#Saving Time and Money with Bookkeeping

[fairmaiden8]

Why Invest in Professional Bookkeeping Services for Your Growing Small Business

Small business owners often struggle with managing their finances. They may not have the necessary skills or experience to handle bookkeeping tasks, which can lead to errors and missed opportunities for growth. In this blog post, we will explore why investing in professional bookkeeping services is essential for your growing small business. Introduction to the Importance of Bookkeeping for Small…

[tittyinfinity]

My mother confuses the fuck out of me

[churchyardvampire]

i need a shirt that says “i dont have generational wealth because draft dodging is a family tradition”

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

money troubles

Januarys in Tulsa were a different kind of hell. You wouldn’t think it would get that cold in Oklahoma, but Darry was surprised every year when December rolled around. His brothers hoarded blankets, stacking them as high as they could go. January and February were even worse.

It was his first winter without his parents, without his father’s salary. Heat was expensive, more so since their windows were thin and the doors couldn’t shut properly. Darry held out as long as possible before turning the heating on.

Pony grumbled a little, wrapping up in blankets and wearing Darry’s old football sweatshirts over every outfit. 

One night in December, Darry was half asleep when his bedroom door opened and his brothers padded their way over to his bed. He barely had enough time to wake up before they crawled on top of him and settled down. Before he could ask what was wrong, he felt Pony’s cold toes being pressed to his shin.

“Y’all are freezing,” Darry murmured as Soda snuggled into his side, forcing his cold nose against Darry’s shoulder. He sighed and rubbed their backs, “I’ll turn on the heat tomorrow.” With his Christmas bonus, they would be fine with the added expense. 

January was when things got hard. 

It was midnight and Darry sat alone at the dining table. When finances were tight, he always did the bookkeeping after the boys went to bed. He didn’t need them worrying, that was his job. And based on his calculations, they’d have to cut back somewhere. It was heat or food. 

Darry’s head fell into his hands. What the hell was he supposed to do? He never wished for his parents more than he did at that moment. A tear dripped onto the notebook paper in front of him. 

He could eat less, leave more for everyone else. That would save some money at least. But not nearly enough. Pony had track, he needed to be eating his fill. And if they didn’t eat with them, he didn’t know where half the gang would get their next meal. 

But if he turned off the heat, well he honestly didn’t know what would happen. He knew he couldn’t stand to see his brothers shivering in the cold, he couldn’t watch them bundle up and pretend nothing was wrong.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He didn’t hear the front door opening, or the footfalls in the entryway. He didn’t know that Two-Bit was inside until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Darry jumped, raising his hands defensively.

Two-Bit smirked and raised his hands, “Woah there, cowboy.” Then he saw the tears in Darry’s eyes. “What’s goin’ on? Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine.” Darry swallowed thickly and ran a hand over his face, “Ain’t nothing for you to worry about. The couch is open if you want to crash.”

Two-Bit’s eyes fell to the page in front of Darry and his eyes widened. Too late, Darry moved to cover it. Two had already seen. “Shit, I didn’t know things were that bad.”

“It’s none of your business,” Darry said shortly. He closed the notebook and slid it under a newspaper. 

He tried to stand up, but Two put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to stay seated. Two-Bit sat down in Pony’s usual chair. He was quiet for a long moment, leg jogging under him. Then he nodded to himself and started digging in his pockets.

A moment later, he put a handful of crumpled bills and a stack of coins in front of Darry. Based on his quick math, it was almost twenty five dollars.

“I’m not takin’ your money.” Darry leaned back as though physical distance could make the money go away. “Where did you even get this much money?”

Two-Bit shrugged, “Texas Hold ‘Em, odd jobs for a guy my ma knows. It’s not even that much money.” It was. It would be enough for food and heat and extra for next month.

“I can’t take this,” Darry pushed it towards his friend. He and Two-Bit had been pals for as long as he could remember, they practically grew up together. Two-Bit was a good guy, Darry trusted him with his family more than anyone else. He knew that Two could use this money for his mom or his sister. Why on earth would he give it to Darry?

“You need it. It’s not even that much.” Two-Bit sighed and for the first time in a long time, Darry didn’t smell alcohol on him. “Look, you help me and the boys, you give us food and…” He nodded his head towards the bedrooms, “I know Johnny is sleeping in the spare room. You forced him to so he wouldn’t sleep outside.” Darry looked down, it was true. “Exactly. So take the goddamn money and keep your kid brothers warm. And the rest of us yahoos that traipse through your door.”

Darry stared at Two-Bit, saying nothing. Two-Bit rolled his eyes, “It should not be this hard to convince a guy to take money.” 

“I don’t-”

“Darry.” Two-Bit and Darry turned around to see Soda standing in the doorway. His hair was all a mess and he looked like he was still half asleep. “What’s going on?”

Darry threw on a smile, “A stray just wandered through the door.” He slapped Two-Bit on the shoulder. “Figured I’d let him stay the night and then go from there. Ya think we should keep him?”

Soda chuckled, “Just until morning.” He yawned. “Y’all need to talk quieter. Pony and Johnny are fast asleep.”

“Will do,” Darry told him. “Goodnight, Pepsi.” Soda just yawned again and waved before plodding back to bed. Darry’s eyes stayed at where he was for a long moment. Then he turned back to his friend. 

Soda and Pony deserved a home that was warm and safe and with enough food for them and all their friends. They needed this money. He could suffer the shame of accepting money from a friend just this once. 

So he grit his teeth and said, “I don’t want to be makin’ a habit of this.”

Two-Bit grinned, “Wouldn’t dream of it, superman.” 

He squeezed Darry’s shoulder, “I’m going to sleep on the couch, tell Johnny that I get the bed next time.” Darry snorted and shook his head, that was never going to happen.

Darry looked at the pile of money for a long moment. His hands shook ever so slightly as he tucked it into the coffee can on top of the fridge. 

When he turned back, Soda was standing in the doorway again, watching him. He seemed more awake now. They just looked at each other for a long moment.

Soda crossed the room in two strides and hugged Darry. Just from that, Soda knew Darry had heard, or at least seen his exchange with Two-Bit. He knew that Soda worried about him, probably far too much. To Soda, Darry accepting help was nothing short of a miracle. 

“I love you,” Soda said softly. “You’re doing a really good job.”

Darry’s throat became thick with tears and he held Soda just a little tighter. “Thank you, honey.” Since their parents died, he’d been adrift, trying desperately to keep everything together. He kissed Soda’s head, “I love you too.” Darry pulled back and pushed Soda’s hair out of his face. Without all that grease, Soda’s hair was constantly covering his eyes. “Go back to bed.”

Soda huffed, “What if I don’t wanna?”

Darry couldn’t help the laugh that bust from his chest, “You’re soundin’ an awful lot like Ponyboy.”

“And he’s my favorite brother, so what?” Soda said sarcastically, earning him a thawk on the head from Darry. A few months ago, that would have hurt, even if it was a joke. Now he knew his brother was being a knucklehead, delirious in his sleep-addled mind. 

“Go to bed, short stack,” Darry said, giving Soda a light shove towards the hallway. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Soda smirked. He gave Darry another quick squeeze before darting back towards his bed. Darry followed him a few minutes later. 

Unable to help himself, he ducked his head into the spare room where Johnny and Pony had fallen asleep. The two of them were curled towards each other like parentheses, Pony’s thumb still holding place in his book.

With a fond smile, he leaned over the bed and pulled the book from his brother’s hands. He slipped a bookmark in and set it to the side table. Both the boys were covered in a thick blanket. Darry adjusted it around their shoulders.

One of Johnny’s eyes squinted open, “What?”

Just like he would one of his brothers, Darry touched his head affectionately, “Just me, buddy. Go back to sleep.” His heart warmed at the trust Johnny displayed as he closed his eyes again and snuggled back down. That was why he needed the money, Johnny needed a safe place to stay.

Darry closed the bedroom door and then moved to check on Soda. His idiot brother was still awake, not even pretending to sleep. Darry leaned into the door frame, “Golly, you’d think you were six, not sixteen.”

Soda stuck his tongue out, only proving Darry’s point. “I’m goin’ to sleep. Wanted to make sure you didn’t try to pull an all-nighter.”

“Goodnight, Soda,” Darry said meaningfully. 

“Night.” Soda snuggled down into bed with a content look on his face. Darry smiled and finally headed back to his bedroom. 

[lordofdestructionm]

The not so subtle sentimentality of Mordecai Heller

With the Lackadaisy Short Film  teaser trailer hitting over 800K views one line from Serafine got me thinking about a side of Mordecai that is not often discussed but is crucial to his character and may play a key part in the comics story before the end

Though it is easy for both other characters in the story and readers to see Mordecai as just a cold killer that cares more about stains on his shirt than ending multiple lives in grizzly ways (and that is true for anyone who makes the mistake of getting in the way of him completing his work) a closer look reveals that, while reserved for a short list of people, there is a strong streak of sentimentality hidden behind the buttoned down aloof professional persona he tries so hard to maintain

His Mother and Sisters

Mordecai was dealt a very bad starting hand in life. With his father dying when he and his sisters were still very young, despite his loving and hard working mother doing her best to provide for them, the family lived in poverty in the slums of New York

As a result Mordecai has to start working at a very early age and being naturally gifted with numbers he becomes a book keeper and soon enough gets drawn into running the numbers for gambling and loan sharking gangs.

All of this was done to try and make life better for his mother and his sisters. In a flashback to when he was on the run from the criminals he had been working for after being caught embezzling funds from them, his life is in danger and he needs to get out of town in a hurry and so jumps on a train in either 1920 or 1921.

Despite this he fixates on writing a letter to send to his mother in which he explains the location of his ill gotten savings and urges her to move with his sisters to cleaner better ventilated housing.

Because the money wasn’t primarily for his benefit

Mordecai clearly loved his sisters very much and they could break him out of his reserved bookish demeanor. We can see even as an adult Modecai holds the memory of his childhood with his sisters, impoverished and hard though it clearly was, very close. Close enough that thinking about them are enough to bring out his very small but very genuine smile that could not be further away from his “ice pick look”.

Atlas

The next imporant relationship in his life is with Atlas May. When on that getaway train he soon realized that cut throats from his former employers are already in the carriage waiting for their moment to pounce

Mordecai is 100% certain that he is about to get a bullet to the head and the tunnel will provide the hitmen with the perfect cover as the darkness and noise descends.

Only for a ray of light to suddenly appear

Atlas gave Mordecai the means to survive, not just by literally giving him what he needed to escape his would be murderers, but by employing him and providing a new purpose when he had nowhere else to go and no idea what to do.

Atlas being dead by the time of the main story, by design we know very little about his personality and relationships with others except for what the people who knew him have to say.

But is is very clear that Mordecai felt a deep loyalty to Atlas. It may even be speculated that he became a surrogate father figure for him, having lost his own father so young and having been moulded while working for him from the scared youth in shabby second hand clothes to a dapper professional bookkeeping bootlegger

This loyalty has not ended with Atlas’s death. He is determined to get to the bottom of the mystery of his murder. This is despite the fact it would be a much smarter move by far for the sake of both professionalism and survival to let dead former employers lie and simply carry out his new role with the Marigold gang no questions asked

Instead it is clear the entire reason he has abandoned The Lackadaisy is not, as Mitzi and the rest think, cold self interest but so he can investigate if the rival gang had any role in his mentors death

Even discussing the topic causes his cold passive exterior to crack and makes him look broken and overwhelmed

Viktor  (You knew this was coming)

As anyone who has followed this account will know this is one of my (and many other fans) favourite dynamics in the series

At fist it seems there is little reason for these two to have any kind of bond. Mordecai is pretty much obsessed with good grooming, high quality tailoring, correct grammar, and tends to go on one-sided rambles when perturbed.

 This clashes hard with the surly Slovak who is often unshaven, relatively casual in his attire, speaks a broken English, and hates people chattering or “noise, noise, noise” as he calls it. Indeed the two often bicker and act as if they can’t stand the other

However for whatever reason, in spite of these big differences, the big bruiser mechanic and the fussy nerdy sharp shooter are able to work very well together and soon become key weapons in Atlas’s arsenal

And in spite of their differences there is evidence, that over the course of the roughly six years they were working together before their bosses death, that these two extremely anti-social personalities actually began to form an unlikely rapport

On the one known occasion when Mordecai actually drank strong alcohol, and predictably got hilariously drunk, one of his chosen topics of conversation is his “friend” Viktor and how “great” he is (including a possibly telling comment about his large physique *cough*)

Mordecai also, despite being the type of person who you would assume would just radiate Scrooge energy, makes a point of buying Viktor a Christmas/hanukka present. Though he keeps up appearances by presenting it as another criticism of Viktor’s fashion sense

Tellingly Viktor voluntarily wears the tie for the rest of the day, something only Ivy (someone Viktor treats as a surrogate daughter) is able to get away with as well.

The two also not only work well together in a professional capacity, but seem to truly look out for each others welfare when on the job. Not only does Mordecai save Viktor from being shot while distracted, Viktor then goes out of his way to retrieve Mordecai’s pince-nez from the staircase of a burning building

While a hilarious moment as Mordecai fails to react in the “correct” way to having just survived a bloody shoot out, it also sums up his entire attitude to people, that he separates the world into those who count and those who don’t. The former are a short list

Viktor, along with the others on here, counts for Mordecai

This is made clear at his chat with Mitzi at the lunch meeting.

Mordecai may have kneecapped Viktor when he left the Lackadaisy gang, but from what we know now this was clearly an attempt to get Viktor out of harms way by forcing him to retire from bootlegging, and quite possibly to avoid Marigold putting him in a position where he would have to fight Viktor if he was told to finish off the failing speakeasy. Something he could hardly refuse if he wanted to keep investigating Atlas’s death

Mitzi seems to know Viktor is a chink in Mordecai’s armour, and of course exploits that to the fullest. When she informs him that his theft of the Lackadaisy arsenal put Viktors life in danger Mordecai’s face makes less than neutral expression

As Mitzi keeps twisting that screw Mordecai knows he is in danger of giving something away and with Asa right next to him he needs to restore his barriers.

In this case quite literally using a menu to cover his face to ensure he doesn’t slip up again

It seem to work as Asa laughs of the idea of Mordecai having a heart beneath the cold exterior (something we know is a big mistake)

Even when the attention is off him and the topic of conversation moves on his gaze remains firmly fixed down at the table.

Until Atlas lets slip some crucial information about Atlas’s last days. So much for there being “no heartstrings to tug on”

I am sure the Lackadaisy Animated Movie is going to be amazing and hopefully will only lead to ever more popularity and attention for this amazing world and its characters

[nuttybarbariantheorist]

Counter Encounters

He was working at the new bookstore on campus the first time she noticed him.

It was the beginning of classes at Merini U and Marcille was doing her best to get everything she needed for the coming courses. It was, she decided, absolutely imperative to get a good deal on schoolbooks in order to save a bit more for necessities. This year wasn’t her first after all…it was her second year in Medical Research, and she was going to do her best! There was a rumor circulating that a new shop had popped up offering some pretty good bargains. Marcille had slipped over to check the moment she got the required book list for her classes.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for this book…its for my class.”

The worker behind the counter looked at her, he had tousled blonde hair and strange gold eyes. There was something familiar about the guy, albeit in a very masculine way. A soft smile lit his face as he answered her. “I can help you find it; do you know the title?”

Marcille dug in her bag to procure the list. As she went to open the envelope her hand slipped and she promptly ending up dropping it in a clumsy fumble. Embarrassment colored her cheeks, as the guy stooped and picked it up for her.

He had the restraint not to laugh. Only offered her the list with a soft. “You dropped this.”

She mumbled trying to hide her embarrassment. “Thanks.”

“So, which book did you need?”

“All of them honestly, just trying to save some money for the rest of school.”

“I get that. Let’s see if we can find what you need. Medical section is back here.”

Marcille followed him to the back of the store. He was really tall, tall enough to effortlessly reach the high shelves for the volumes on her list. He handed her them and quoted the price as they found the right ones. She couldn’t help but pat herself internally on the back at each quote, as the prices were the best she had encountered so far. She teetered as the final volume hit the stack and the bookkeeper paused.

“Ummm, would you like me to hold those?”

She was wavering unsteadily under her load. Nursing books are indisputable bricks and each subsequent one had increased her wobbling. The load threatened to tip her over now. Strong arms shot under hers before she could collapse, the burden lifting away as she steadied herself.

“Woah, easy there.”

The blonde bookkeeper lifted the heavy pile from her arms without trouble.

“Let’s get this lot up front so you can pay…then I can carry them to your car for you.”

Sighing with relief and wishing for something to lean on Marcille followed him dutifully to the front counter. He rang up the titles and she fished her wallet out of her bag and paid.

“So, umm, what was your name?”

“Marcille, my names Marcille Donato.”

“Well, Marcille, can I carry these to your car for you?

“That would be great thanks!”

The price seemed even better than she had previously thought. He carried the books effortlessly out to her little red coupe, loading them in the trunk when she popped it open for him. A million other things to do were crowding her mind and it wasn’t until she stopped at the first light and glanced at the receipt that a sudden realization decked her.

He gave me an employee discount?

The second time Marcille met the blonde man was at the little ice cream shop in downtown Merini sometime later. The shop had the absolute best parfait in town and Marcille felt in severe need of something to cheer herself up. Calculus was physically kicking her ass. The numbers side of her degree was something she had to work very hard to get good at. Medicinal dosage required one to be able to do drug calculations based on a patient’s weight and age. Fractions and decimals were still drifting through her brain from the study and cram session with Falin earlier today. Her friend had suggested a break when she noticed Marcille’s eyes glazing over in the numbness the subject seemed to inspire.

The numbers were still flitting across the backs of her eyes when a cheerful voice addressed her. “Here’s your parfait!”

Her parfait had never stared back at her before. There’s a red dragon head and a wolf head poking up over the rim of her dessert. Cheerful and unexpected extra treats that she didn’t pay for. Marcille could only cover her surprise with a stuttered thanks, green eyes flicking up to meet…gold. Gold eyes and tousled blonde hair. Again. Still tall, though he was stooping a little bit. Marcille couldn’t place his familiar face and before she could question the artistic decisions on her dessert, he’s off to the next customer.

She picked up parfait and napkin and retired to a corner to enjoy it. Curiosity replaced her distress now…as she wondered at the extra goodies. The wolf head was a shortbread cookie, a little soft from soaking in the sweet vanilla ice cream and strawberry syrup, but deliciously crisp besides that. It made her parfait taste a little like a strawberry shortcake and Marcille found she really enjoyed that. The red dragon turned out to be a rice Krispie treat covered in a thin layer of fondant, with chocolate horns. Equally a surprise and equally delicious.

The café was bustling now and she spared a few more minutes to carefully watch the man behind the counter. He never paused very long and seemed pretty competent in his work, making the drinks and handing them to patrons. None of the desserts looked remotely like hers though.

She pulled the last bit of cream through her straw and went to wipe her mouth with the napkin and did a double take. Written on the flimsy paper in hurried scrawl was a message.

Cheer up Marcille!

Wah…What…the guy at the counter…how did he know her name?

Is he flirting with me?

Marcille tried to get a glimpse of his name tag thinking it might jostle her memories. He just didn’t seem to hold still long enough for her too…

Her phone buzzed pulling her thoughts from the almost familiar guy, back to the stark reality of her looming Calculus test.

She stood and after a moment’s hesitation, tucked the napkin in her jacket pocket. Dared a final glance at the tall weird blonde guy putting whip cream on a sundae and left the café.

Maybe it was just the sugar in her system, but she did feel a little more cheerful.

It was another month before she saw the guy again. Falin had invited her to see the second DalClan movie. And Marcille was late. The traffic was a bit heavier than normal and she had needed to make a call to Falin, asking her to go in and save them some good seats. By the time Marcille parked at the theatre she only had a couple minutes left before the show.

She hurried into the building and practically careened to the counter, whipping out her wallet for a ticket and a small bucket of popcorn. Falin probably hadn’t bought any since she had needed to buy her own ticket. Her friend kept to a strict budget with not a lot of wiggle room for spending.

A large bucket of popcorn appeared along with her ticket. Marcille took it automatically and turned to go. She looked back briefly, a belated thank you dying on her tongue.

Wait, is this the same guy…?

Golden eyes and surprisingly neat? blonde hair. It wasn’t nearly as tousled this time and almost looked like it had been recently combed. He was smiling cheerfully at her and it wasn’t until he told her. “Enjoy your movie!” that Marcille’s free hand flew to her mouth as she realized the time and made a mad dash for the doorway that lead to the screens. A silent promise to ease the curiosity in her brain, to stop by the counter afterwards to finally confront the stranger. Who seemed to be everywhere and nowhere simultaneously in her life.

Falin was sitting in the middle row middle, which made getting to her awkward, but the seats were really good. Worth the few pieces of popcorn that made an escape when Marcille finally waded over to her. Commercials were still blaring on screen, so she hadn’t missed anything important. Falin smiled at Marcille as she handed her the popcorn bucket.

“Wow, that’s the biggest one… I’m glad you made it!”

Marcille sighed and dropped gratefully into the theatre chair rolling her head back dramatically.

“Gahhhh, traffic was so bad! I was sure I was gonna miss it!”

Falin crunched popcorn thoughtfully. “But you didn’t.”

“It was a near thing, I got distracted again…I think that guy I told you about works here too…The same one from the bookstore and the café.”

“Oh?” Marcille completely missed the very devious glance her friend aimed at her. “What did you think of him?”

“I don’t know him, how am I supposed to have an opinion on him…Oh…he did give me a large popcorn when all I paid for was a small. Huh…”

Three people seemed to shush her at once, as the lights dimmed and the Dalclan theme began to play sweetly over the speakers. Falin dared to cup a hand to her mouth and whisper softly. “You know…my brother works here too.”

Too? Are they? No, no way, he looked way too masculine to be her brother.

Marcille shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth and chewed. Mind flickering over golden eyes and blonde hair.

“You again!”

She finally catches him. He’s standing there holding a package and shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. He hadn’t been at the movie theatre when they left, Marcille had looked.

“…y-your package?” He’s slightly taken aback by her abrupt declaration…sweating and nervous. Not helped by the fact that she surges up to him and jabs his chest.

“You’re Falins brother?!”

“Um.” He holds the box to one side and lets her maul his vest. She’s over a foot shorter than him so the results probably looked like an angry shiba inu berating a golden retriever.

“Why didn’t you say something? Tell me your name. Anything?”

He stared dumbly at her. “I didn’t want to seem weird to you.”

“Weird…weird is seeing you everywhere and not knowing who you are!”

He shook free of her grip and offered his hand.

“I’m Laios. Laios Touden.”

Marcille took it in a firm shake with a huff. “You already know mine.”

“Heh, yeah, Falin told me…but I didn’t realize it until after I talked to you at the bookstore.” He squinched his eyes shut and said her name with a grin.  “Marcille.”

“Why on earth do you work so many places? The bookstore, the café, the movie theatre…now you’re a delivery driver?!”

Laios rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. “I help Falin with her school bills…if she worked full-time it would really hurt her studies’, I want her to have her dream job on day, so...”

The fiery indignation in her died. For the first time, she noted the sleepy bags under his eyes, the absolutely limp way he carried himself, this guy was tired. He was working four jobs to help his sister. There was no indication he was taking any thought or care for himself. “Do you have any free time today?”

Confusion clouds his tired face. “Huh?” She repeated the question and his eyes warmed and focused on her. “I’ll be off from this job at 7.”

“That’s kind of late, but please come back here when you finish.”

“Ummm…” He blushed. “May I ask what for?”

“Oh, no nothing risque, just…there’s three things you need to do better.” She rubbed her cheek thoughtfully. “Really just two…I think you are probably getting plenty of exercise. You can’t take good care of Falin if you aren’t taking good care of yourself. So, I’m gonna teach you how to balance your schedule and maybe do some meal prep!”

He chuckled softly and agreed. “I’d be happy to come over tonight.” She took her package from him then and for the first time since meeting him, smiled sunnily.

“Tonight then Laios.”

She disappeared inside and missed the soft pale blush on his cheeks, as he turned and headed back to work.

This was inspired by a super cute doodle an artist I admire did. Could not for the life of me get the idea out of my head until I wrote this.

I can message anyone with the art link per request! But I want to respect their privacy as I am gonna label this how I wrote it. Direct any flack at me please. The art was adorably platonic and I am the shipper here.

[rockwgooglyeyes]

concept based on the “what if?” of “what if Ivan didn’t go back with Till when they ran away and instead ended up with the rebellion?”

(also based on this post from @alalnsted)

note: this is going off of the assumption that they were in their early teens during their escape attempt (~13-14)

While watching Till run back to the garden despite being given a chance at freedom, Ivan comes to the conclusion that nothing he can ever give Till will be enough. If nothing Ivan could ever offer Till would compare to Mizi, and he only annoys Till, then he has no real reason to stay. Ivan believes that Till will be happier without him around bothering him constantly and he will be forced to watch Till be in love with Mizi, as well, so he chooses to leave instead. He thinks of it as a selfish decision, leaving his friends and his beloved behind, but he also thinks that they will be better off without him, so it’s not that hard of a pill to swallow.

After leaving, Ivan kind of just drifts for a while before crossing paths with Hyuna, who he recognizes from the Garden. Hyuna recognizes him too and scoops him up off of the street because he reminds her of Luka and if she can take care of Ivan, and he turns out fine, then maybe that will mean that she didn’t fail Luka (and that she didn’t fail Hyun-Woo, by extension)

Taken under Hyuna’s wing, Ivan grows up into someone a little more crass and brusque than his charming persona in canon- as Para (@shakingparadigm) said, his child self is actually really close to his real self, and his child self is blunt, quiet and stoic- and I think that if Hyuna, Dewey and Isaac were some of the figures he was growing up around as a teenager, he would end up presenting more authentically insofar as he would kind of lean into that more brutally-honest side that we can see when he's a little kid. He might be a little more sarcastic and outright rude but he would still have some of his more playful nature we see in his canon adult self (after all, Hyuna’s definitely easygoing and witty, and she, Dewey and Isaac definitely seem like they enjoy just fooling around and shootin' the shit together)

Ivan becomes the rebellion’s bookkeeper! He would still be able to fight and go on missions himself but he would mostly make sure that the money and the documents are in order, allowing the rebellion to execute more covert missions and stay on budget. I just think he’s more of a strategist/planner than someone on the front lines.

At his canon age of ~22 (I think), the new ALNST contestants are announced and he realizes that Sua, Mizi and Till are part of that group, I think he would probably panic. The human rebellion in and of itself seems like it is focused on dismantling ALNST as an institution anyways so having a mission surrounding the upcoming season makes sense but Ivan initially removes himself from it, because it’s personal and he doesn’t want that kind of attachment to cloud his judgment. Hyuna drags him into it, either right before Round 1 or after Sua dies (I really don’t know if I want to keep Sua dying in or not because as much fun as it would be to have Sua, the whole point of this AU is kind of to have Ivan and Mizi both grow on their own, separate from their partners. Ivan would get to do that pre-ALNST and Mizi would do it afterwards). Ultimately, they save Mizi. She and Ivan have a tearful reunion. Though she isn’t happy with him for making her think he was dead, she forgives him.

Eventually they save Till, too, but that’s actually less important tbh. I mean. Ivan and Till have a reunion and Till is glad to see that Ivan is still alive and that Mizi is still alive and he has to work through his own guilt and Ivan is kind of just . . . tired because he might still be in love with Till but at the same time, he came to terms with the fact that Till would never love him back a long, long time ago and he’s way past hoping for something like that

I'm thinking of writing something with this idea but if anyone has any notes or ideas in regards to this AU please let me know! I have some doodles for it that I'm probably gonna post later today or tomorrow . . . who knows though haha

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: miss me in your bones | chapter one

pairing: dad’s best friend!joel miller/female reader

chapter rating: PG13

chapters: 1/?

read on AO3 | masterlist

summary:

When Joel Miller started his own contracting business, he didn’t expect all the administrative tasks that came with it. As a result, his budding business is in desperate need of help.

Good thing his best friend’s daughter is home for the summer from college. And sure, he’s always been attracted to you, but he can keep that under control.

It’s just one summer, right?

author’s note: oh look, another multi-chapter joel miller au. this one will be a slower(er) burn than “cruel summer”, with more angst. i’m in my folklore era, sorry y’all. please consider leaving a comment if you liked the chapter! 💕

content warnings/additional tags: au - no outbreak, age difference (21f and 36m), mutual pining, dad’s best friend!joel, college student!reader, no sarah, brief mention of joel’s attraction to the reader when she’s 17.

“You still need help with your bookkeeping?” Joel’s best friend asks as they sip their beers, basketball game playing on the TV.

Joel has recently branched out and started his own contracting business, a dream he’s had since he started working fresh out of high school. He’s taken a few night classes and earned himself an associates degree in business administration from the community college, in the hopes that it might help him not drive his budding business venture straight into the dirt.

What he wasn’t prepared for was the volume of administrative tasks he’d have to take on. Invoicing, pricing, scheduling, negotiating, and the list keeps growing. Joel just wants to bring a vision to life with his hands. He doesn’t want to have to sit at a computer for hours a day before getting to the fun stuff.

He sighs. “Yeah, I’m drownin’ in all that stuff. Seems like there’s not enough hours in the day to be doin’ the dirty work and get all that shit done, too.”

“Well, my daughter’s comin’ home for the summer. She said she was lookin’ for a job so that she can save up some money before goin’ back to school in the fall. She could help you out. She’s good with computers,” his friend says. Joel swallows.

Joel’s lived next door to you and your dad for four years now. When he first moved in next to the single dad, you were seventeen, getting ready to finish up high school and head off to college. You were your dad’s pride and joy, a sweet girl with brains and beauty that he bragged about constantly. You’d gotten a full academic scholarship to UCLA, no small feat, but you’d been required to spend your first two summers on campus fulfilling a certain number of credits, which meant you hadn't visited home in some time due to the cost.

This also meant Joel got a reprieve from the inappropriate thoughts he’s had about you since the first time he met you. When you’d stood by the door with your dad, welcoming him to the neighborhood, but all he could think about was the curve of your lips as you smiled at him or the way you looked up at him through your lashes when he spoke, hanging on his every word like he was spilling the secrets of the universe.

For his first year in his new house, you were there when he came over on the weekends, watching football with your dad or doing homework at the kitchen table. Joel was there for your graduation party, and sang Happy Birthday as you blew out the candles for your eighteenth year. He helped your dad pack up his truck with your boxes of stuff and waved goodbye from the driveway as you set off to college.

And the whole time he had to beat the thoughts of pressing a hand to your thigh beneath the dining table or pulling you to the side to kiss you senseless. He was equal parts relieved and disappointed when your dad drove you over a thousand miles away.

Your dad is still waiting for an answer, and Joel can’t come up with a good enough reason to say no to his offer of your help. He needs it.

He can keep himself under control for one summer.

“Sure, that would be great,” Joel replies with a strained smile unnoticed by your dad.

“Great! I’ll let her know.”

________

You’re so excited to be home for a whole summer. Between your rigorous course load over the last two years and the cost of housing and travel, you haven’t been able to visit home. Your dad pays for half your housing on top of his own expenses, so you didn’t want to burden him more with travel costs.

“How was your flight, kiddo,” your dad asks as he wraps you in a tight hug.

“Went well enough. Definitely better than driving for two days with some stinky old man,” you tease. He pushes at your shoulder.

Your relationship with your dad is a close one, the result of being the only child to a single parent and all his efforts over the years to make sure he does the best job he can. And while he often had to work overtime, he was always there for you when it mattered and never made you feel like you weren’t loved.

“I’m happy you’re back, squirt. House is too quiet without you,” he says as he pulls away from the pick-up area and rejoins Austin traffic. His words make your heart clench.

“Just another year and I’ll hopefully be able to get a job closer to home,” you tell him.

“With that fancy degree, I’m sure you’ll be able to get any job you want.”

The fancy degree in question is in aerospace engineering. Ever since your dad took you to visit the Kennedy Space Center in Florida on a rare vacation out of the state, you’d been hooked on the idea of helping get rockets to space.

“Hopefully. With all the private space exploration initiatives, should be plenty of jobs to go around. California is fun, but Texas is home.”

He smiles at you, a big wide grin that you’d missed in your time away.

“Listen, you know how you said you wanted to find a job for the summer while you’re home?” He asks. You nod. “Well, Joel started up his own contracting business and is hopin’ to get some help with the administrative work. Schedulin’, contracts, bookkeepin’. I know it’s not what you’re studyin’ or anythin’ but it might be nice to give your brain a break from all that fancy math you do.”

Your stomach erupts in butterflies at just the mention of your dad’s best friend and neighbor, Joel Miller. Ever since you first met when he moved in next door, you’ve been smitten. He’s a bit younger than your dad, somewhere in his mid-thirties while your dad has crossed the threshold to his forties. He’s tall and broad with muscles defined from hard labor, dark curly hair that’s almost always unruly, and kind brown eyes that have started to crinkle in the corners with a life well lived.

He’s so gorgeous it actually hurts.

You’ve spent a fair share of your nights away from home thinking about Joel Miller as you slid a hand into your pajama pants. Did he ever think about you? You doubt it, but a girl could dream.

In your daydreaming, you almost forget to answer your dad. “Oh, uh, sure. I can help out Mr. Miller,” you reply, clearing your throat.

“Thanks, sweetie. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the help.”

________

Joel is cursing up a storm as he tries to clean up the spare room he uses as an office and storage area these days. There’s papers everywhere, supply quotes and contracts and instruction manuals across every surface to the point where the old laptop he uses for work sits buried, battery dead from neglect. He tries to sort everything into a neat pile, but the pile is too big and scatters everywhere once more.

You’re supposed to start working with him at nine this morning. He’s got a consultation scheduled after lunch, giving him plenty of time to show you the nightmare you’re walking into.

There’s a knock at the door and Joel rushes from the back of the house to answer.

You’re standing on his porch, as you have hundreds of times, but after two and a half years away at school, the girl he’d waved goodbye to one August morning has disappeared. Your hair is drastically different and your face has lost the roundness of your teen years, but the smile that stretches your lips is all too familiar.

“Hi, Mr. Miller.”

________

You shift your weight from foot to foot as Joel’s gaze drifts over you, the feel of it hot over your skin. His forehead and neck are dappled with sweat, shirt sticking to his chest in a way that’s so inviting you have to clench your hands into fists at your side to keep from reaching out.

How is it possible he’s gotten more attractive?

“Hey! Welcome home!” Joel finally says, stepping aside and allowing you to cross the threshold.

His house has changed, yet feels overwhelmingly familiar all the same. He’s updated the flooring since you’d left, and you see the gleam of shiny stainless steel appliances in the kitchen.

“You renovated the kitchen?” You ask, stepping down the hall and into the living area to have a closer look. “The counters are pretty.”

He’s replaced the old dark cabinets with natural wood and the laminate counters are now a sparkling white quartz. He stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Yep. First project for my portfolio,” he says proudly. “Did the whole thing myself.”

“Impressive.”

You stare at each other for a beat before Joel clears his throat.

“You, uh, you wanna see the office?” He asks.

“Sure.”

He leads you to the back bedroom and pushes the door open. “It’s…kinda a mess.”

“Kinda?” You step inside, eyeing the haphazard piles of paper dubiously. “Mr. Miller, this is a war zone.”

He cringes. “Yeah. S’why I need help,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Got so caught up with the networkin’ and job bids that I just let all this suffer for it.”

You huff a laugh, dropping your bag to the ground. There’s a desk in the middle of the room, covered in stacks of paper. A laptop sits open, screen dark, amongst the files. A bookshelf along one wall holds a printer and a number of large hardback books pertaining to business administration and general contracting guidelines. Along another wall are stacked boxes. You peek into one and find an array of tile samples.

“Think you can manage?” Joel asks.

You smile at him. “You know me, Mr. Miller. I’ve never backed down from a challenge.”

“Joel. Just…call me Joel.”

“Okay…Joel.”

He smiles, and the way it reaches his eyes makes your heart flutter. You swallow nervously.

This will be fine.

It’s just one summer.

Joel Miller tag list:

@huffle-punk punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb

Join a tag list

[poorlittleyaoyao]

Care to share your backstory for Meng Shi?

Anon, I would LOVE to! I want to write about her so badly, but I have neither the stamina to finish it nor the skill to execute it properly. Here is a big wall of text of my THOUGHTS and FEELINGS described to the extent possible without needing a cw:

Meng Shi is the only child in a solidly middle-class (insofar as "middle-class" is a thing you can be in that setting) family of artisans (Painters? Scribes? The MDZS world inexplicably has no civil service system, so they can't be court clerks.) in a mid-sized riverside town near Yunmeng. Her parents teach her to read and write so she can help with the family business. She also learns to play the guqin for fun and because down the the line it'll be an attractive quality for a marriageable young lady to have.

When she is 14, her hometown is devastated by a catastrophic flood. (I go back and forth on whether this is the work of supernatural forces unchecked by cultivators--thus contributing to JGY's decision to spearhead the watchtower project later on--or if it's a regular old environmental disaster.) Her family's home and wealth are all lost, and her family themselves are all drowned save for Meng Shi and her father's youngest brother.

Meng Shi and her uncle travel and take on what work they can to support themselves, but her uncle is frustrated that he as a skilled craftsman has to work as a laborer and/or as a junior outsider subservient to a family no better than his own. He is unwilling to keep his head down and work his way up. He resents his newfound poverty and resents his niece, whom he views as a burden.

After spending some time in the merchant hub of Yunping, Meng Shi is abruptly taken to what she is told is a matchmaker. She answers the woman's questions honestly--yes, of course she is a maiden! yes, she can play an instrument! no, she doesn't think she has any ailments--but senses that the vibe is off. She's even more suspicious when her uncle won't let her see the paper that the "matchmaker" has him sign. When she catches a glimpse of the text, she tries to run. It does not go well.

Meng Shi latches onto reading, painting, and music as connections to her life before the flood. Since these things are also part of her appeal to clients, she has a repertoire of texts to read and music to play during work that is distinct from what she reads and plays for herself. It is of paramount importance that these things are kept strictly separated.

Since these skills are not shared by the other women in the brothel, they also enable her to mentally separate herself from them and her current life in general: she views herself as Different and Better, and her circumstances must therefore be temporary. This lets her keep going, but it also tanks her chances of forming kinship with the other women.

Her one friend in the brothel is Sisi, who is a couple years her senior and looked out for her when she first arrived. Meng Shi continually repays this kindness until Sisi's contract is bought out years later by a wealthy merchant who wants to make her his kept mistress. (Relatedly, JGY does not realize Sisi is among the women he exploits for his patricide until after the fact: as far as he knew, Sisi was still living with that merchant somewhere in Yunmeng.)

Meng Shi earns extra money by helping the madam with bookkeeping, a task she eventually teaches her son. She tracks expenses and revenue and knows exactly how much debt each woman or girl has left. The contract documents themselves are kept locked away and she fantasizes about finding and burning them. (When she is older, she briefly has the chance... and doesn't take it, because any hope of Meng Yao being recognized as his father's son hinges being able to prove her own identity, and the prospects for her as an unwed mother with no family or resources are slim even if she manages to shake the stigma of the brothel. She sticks with the devil she knows, because at least here she has the bare minimum of food and a shelter.)

She also keeps meticulous records of every man she ever has to serve--names, appearance, preferences, any details they share about their lives. It's insurance if things go badly, and she finds that they treat her somewhat better if they think they matter.

Meng Shi is 20 when Jin Guangshan hires her, and her decision to carry his child to term is a calculated one: since JGS has no heirs at the time Meng Yao is conceived, Meng Shi figures JGS will take her as an official concubine for the sake of his family line. The risks and physical hardships of childbirth and pregnancy are deemed worth it, because being beholden to just one man who can confer status and security is a hell of a lot better than the brothel, no matter how insufferable that man is.

Meng Shi is nonetheless blindsided by just how disruptive a baby is, never mind how long it takes her body to recover from childbirth. When Meng Yao is old enough to sleep for long stretches and no longer needs to eat every few hours, a new problem arises: where to keep him while she works now that she can't stow him in his cradle. Sisi will watch him when she can, but the other women aren't inclined to communally babysit a child they didn't choose for someone they don't like. Meng Shi gets the madam to agree to move her to a larger room, with enough space that she can partition off a section just for herself and Meng Yao. With the resultant increase in what she owes for room and board each month, plus the cost of feeding and clothing her son, Meng Shi's net income plummets. (Having a separate space makes it worth it, though.)

Even with the partitioned section, Meng Shi tries to keep Meng Yao away from the room entirely when she has to work. Eventually he works downstairs in the restaurant, but when he's younger, Meng Shi sends him up to the roof with a book and candle when the weather permits so he will be left alone.

Teaching Meng Yao to read and write isn't just about making sure he's a Proper Young Gentleman; it's also a way for her to share the things she loves and connect with her son through learning the way her own parents connected with her.

She likes to make as big a fuss as she can about festivals and birthdays, because she and Meng Yao deserve something nice.

Since the Jiang clan doesn't practice musical cultivation, and the pamphlets Meng Shi acquires for Meng Yao emphasize swordsmanship above all else, she only teaches Meng Yao the very basics of the guqin. He likes to listen to her play, though, and she composes lullabies for him that are later modified to help him with meditation. He does not like to meditate without her in the room.

She writes to JGS at least once every two months. He never responds. She tells Meng Yao and herself that perhaps he simply hasn't received the letters, though she suspects that's not the case.

There's a temple to Guanyin in the hills outside the city. It's a couple hours' walk each way for her when she's healthy, so Meng Shi doesn't get to go as often as she'd like. The monks there are kind to them, and Meng Shi is never sure whether it's because they're monks and kind to everyone, or because they don't know who she is.

No matter how much of a burden Meng Yao is, or how much she sometimes regrets her choice (to have a child, to not run away before, and on and on), Meng Shi never once considers trading Meng Yao's wellbeing for anything. She wonders what sort of monster her uncle must have been to sell her.

She is ill for a little over two years.

The only time she ever raises a hand against her son is when he suggests, in a calm and rational voice, that he should take on her debt instead. She's horrified by her action, but it has the desired effect.

She is initially buried up in the woods near the temple. Meng Yao counts his paces carefully so he can find the place again later.

[mademoiselle-red]

The Inheritance

Once upon a time, sometime around 1948 to be precise, in a place far far away, in a small wine town in a place called Sichuan, in the middle of a civil war, a man said to his wife and baby son: “I have to leave with the army for a while. I’ll be back before Chinese new year.”

The wife said: “Then we’ll try to survive long enough until you return.”

The new year came and went. There was no trace of the man. No letters, no messages, nothing. Where did he go? Did he die on the road? She didn’t know. And when the new government set up shop in her town, she decided it was better to assume he died in the war.

The wife kept her promise and survived. She went to live with her brother’s family.

“Auntie, where is uncle?” My young grandmother would ask.

“We lost him during the war,” her auntie would explain.

Several new years came and went. The young son grew up in his uncle’s house, knowing only that his father had been a simple bookkeeper who’d perished in the war, and the adults did not like to speak of him.

According to my grandmother, her cousin lived a good life, but died young from a sudden illness, unmarried and childless.

After her son passed away, the mother continued to live in the house he bought for her, just a few streets away from her niece, until she passed away too. She went peacefully, my grandmother said, after a long battle with cancer.

My grandmother buried her aunt next to her cousin, and then moved on with her life. Over the next few decades, she met and married my grandfather, raised three daughters with him, and retired in her late-fifties after a long career as a school teacher.

And when all her daughters left home one after the other to pursue their own careers and start their families, she and my grandfather sold their old house and moved to a more spacious one across town.

And then one day, some time in the 90s, a man from a place far far away showed up in a suit in this little wine town, looking for an address written on an old crinkled piece of paper to a house that was torn down decades ago.

The old neighbors on the street didn’t remember where that family —a single mother and her young son —had moved to.

But he still had a few days left on his visa so he kept asking around town. And on the last day of his trip, he found an old lady who remembered that the young mother’s brother had a daughter who had been a school teacher at her local elementary school.

And with the help of a retired teacher from the same school, the man found himself knocking on the door of a house on the other side of town.

“Hello, my name is ——, I come from Kaohsiung, and I’m looking for the niece of ——. He left this town in 1948 during the war. He was my father’s best friend.”

~

In 1948, a bookkeeper for the army left his mountainous hometown on a truck, got on a train, and then on a ship, and sailed to a foreign place called Kaohsiung. There, he was given a room to sleep in, and told he would be back home before the new year.

Several new years came and went, and the army discharged him, gave him some money, and told him he was free to do what he wanted. But he was not allowed to return home.

And so he bought a truck with the money and started a delivery business with a buddy from the army.

The decades went by, the buddy started a new family in their newfound home, but the man remained alone. His buddy’s children called him “uncle” and he doted on them like they were his own. And when the children were all grown up, they looked after him like he was indeed their uncle. On his deathbed, the man said to one of the children who called him uncle: “I have a wife and son in a small town in a place called Sichuan. I saved up some money for them over the years, but could not find a way to contact them. Please find them for me and give my son his inheritance.”

And so this is the story of how my grandmother was visited by a stranger one day out of the blue, who sat down for tea, told her a story, paid his respects at a grave, and left her with a rather hefty bundle of cash and gold, all within the span of one afternoon.

The end.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Runaway - Chapter Thirteen.

Oh! We reached 30 notes yesterday and I’ve left you waiting on the update! I’m so sorry guys, but it’s here now :D I hope you enjoy it! As always, thanks for your engagement, I’m so thrilled that you all love it as much as you do. 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,230

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Damn, I’m so glad your parking garage is underground!”

Hannah was simply glad he and their baby had arrived there in one piece, with the force of the storm that had rolled in. It had been expected, Manny even setting out earlier than planned in order to miss it, but been hit by it halfway to Hannah’s apartment, the rain absolutely torrential. If he hadn’t been turning his vehicle onto her street by the time it really began to pelt down, he would have pulled over and waited it out, it was so bad.  

“I gotta say it, HB. You’re looking sharp as hell, mamas,” he complimented, noting that it was the first time he’d seen her in such attire. She wore a pair of dark grey pants that flared slightly, a white bodysuit and a pair of fancy looking, silver heels.  

“Why thank you,” she began, her smile a little shy. “This is the first time I’ve had to get dressed up all business smart since giving birth. I’m just glad the bodysuit holds my mommy belly in!”  

Lifting Lola from her car seat as Hannah reached for her, he gave her another quick tour with his eyes, frowning. “What mommy belly? I swear, that’s the exact same figure as you had before you got pregnant.”

“See?” she gestured with a sweep of her hand before receiving the baby into her arms. “Power of the bodysuit! Believe me, once I take it off, it’ll flop right back out!”

Manny rolled his eyes. “Mommy’s crazy, ain’t she bubs?” Lola gurgled right on cue. “See? The kid agrees.”  

Hannah laughed softly through her nose, carrying her into the kitchen, Manny seating himself down at the breakfast bar. “So, you wanna wait it out with us for a while until it passes?”  

Turning to look through the huge lounge windows, seeing the way the trees across the other side of the street were swaying, he thought that was likely best. Just then, the whole apartment lit up, a huge clap of thunder booming, Lola’s eyes widening. She only laughed and wriggled, though.  

“Ahhh, just like daddy, aren’t you, tiny mamas,” he spoke, watching the curiosity his daughter viewed the storm with. “You love a good storm.”  

“Coffee?” Hannah asked.

“Please,” he spoke, reaching for Lola across the counter so she could free her hands. “So, why the fancy threads today, then? Business meeting?”

“Something like that,” she confirmed, sticking a pod into the coffee machine. “I had a round of interviews earlier, as I’m looking for two more bookkeepers to come and work for me. My client list is now beginning to extend beyond my capabilities to do everything myself, so they’ll be working from home for now until I manage to find a small office space to rent. I might wait on that, though. I mean, if covid taught us anything then it’s that if it isn’t imperative to have an onsite location for your staff, then you get to save a lot of money. I dunno. What do you think?”

He straightened a little, his mouth upturning, pleasantly surprised to be asked his opinion. “I think you’re right. Digital technology and communications mean that you can easily run things via Zoom meetings and all that, client meetings can be done elsewhere, too, take ‘em for lunch or something, that’s a nice touch. I dunno, guess you’d only need an actual office if your business grows to the kind of size where it’d be detrimental somehow to have your staff all scattered around.”  

“Yeah, yeah, that is a good idea. I like that. Thanks,” she smiled, handing him his coffee. “So, what’s new with you?”

Ahh, adult conversation. Easy back and forth. No screaming. He’d missed it.

Also, she’d asked about him. Carmen never bothered, only throwing wedding questions at him of late, it seemed. “Yeah, same old, really. Gramps wants me to head back home for a few days next week, got a new colt he’s having issues with he wants me to go get thrown around on. Apparently, my bones don’t break as easily.”

Hannah laughed, pouring herself a glass of wine. “Well, he is seventy-one. His days breaking in the crazy youngsters are likely behind him now.”

“Oh, but it’s alright for my ass to get up there and run the risk of snapped bones, huh?”  

“You’re a cowboy who turned outlaw. If that isn’t one of the toughest breeds of man you can get, I don’t know what is,” she complimented, sipping her wine, her heart melting when Lola yawned, her head thudding against her daddy’s chest, grasping the soft flannel of his dark blue and green shirt. “I think someone needs her milk and bedtime a little early.”

“I’ll sort her out. She had a bath earlier because she got covered in paint. We went to see Willow and Lily for a little play date and let them do hand and footprint paintings. The fucking mess they got into, shit! They weren’t dry by the time we left, but I’ll bring yours over when I have it. The kids had a blast, it was awesome. Lily got actual canvases, so they look all fancy and stuff,” he explained, Hannah beaming. He was truly taking to fatherhood like a duck to water. “You go put your feet up.”  

Doing just that, Hannah sighed softly, thinking to herself how lucky she was as she sat down on the couch, the dark green velvet moulding around her in a plush hug. Sipping her glass of claret, she felt content, until the feeling of nostalgia began to rise, taking another sip in an attempt to keep it abated.  

Every time she saw Manny, and more pertinently, how brilliant he was with their baby, she felt something inside her ache a little. The way they’d sparked, how easy it had been between them back when they’d first met still very much in existence, too. Chemistry never really died, though, she was beginning to learn. The reality of it hit her every time, though, the fact he was engaged, even though at present, she didn’t know how happily. The last time they’d had a conversation about it, he hadn’t sounded like he was particularly content in his relationship.

Once Lola was dressed for bed and fed, they put her down, Hannah playing the soothing ambient music that Manny had discovered worked a charm in settling her to sleep, creeping out of her room again and going to sit back down in the lounge.  

“Hungry?” she asked. “I’d call for a pizza, but I’m not having some poor delivery guy battle through that just to bring me dinner.”  

“I’m okay, Lily made me a sandwich the size of my damned head, but you go ahead.”

“Alright, I’ll go put out a plate of stuff I can pick at, and then if you want anything it’s there.” She went first to change, coming back out in a pair of simple, light grey sweats and a black vest top, heading to the fridge and rummaging around. She returned after a few minutes with a huge sharing plate, full of cold meats, olives, tomatoes, fresh bread, cheeses, carrot batons, mini cucumbers and various dips. She’d just got it down on the table when her entire apartment was plunged into darkness.  

“Damn, it’s been a while since we’ve had one so bad, the fucking power got knocked out,” Manny commented, rooting in his pocket for the petrol lighter he knew he had in there, flicking it to lit and moving the flame to light the wicks on one of Hannah’s gigantic coffee table candles. She looked through the basket she kept her wax melts and burner oils in, pulling out a lighter from there and going around the apartment, lighting all the other candles that lay dotted around.  

Just as she sat down, his cell began to ring, Manny answering it with a slight look of discomfort. “Hey darlin’, what’s up?” there was a pause, Hannah being able to hear the demanded question of ‘where in the hell are you?’ before a pile more shouted words followed. “I’m still at Hannah’s, I didn’t think it was a good idea to drive back in this weather, even less now the power has been knocked out. Ain’t even any streetlights on here in town, it’s rough out there.”

The presence of her wine glass in front of her face obscured her wincing at the tirade he could hear him receiving, Manny rolling his eyes as Carmen gave him hell. She felt for him, having to sit there and defend a perfectly reasonable decision given the weather circumstances, to a woman who was being the very antithesis of that.  

“It isn’t even that bad out there!” she overheard, Manny’s eyes widening.

“Carmen, it’s fucking biblical out there, baby!” he exclaimed, just as a huge bolt of lightning cracked the sky, the boom making Hannah jump. Immediately, he placed a reassuring hand to her ankle. He was being yelled at, yet he still noticed her little moment of unease.

On and on Carmen continued, cutting him off when he went to speak, Manny becoming exasperated with her overreaction to something that to anyone else, was perfectly reasonable.

“Why you gotta be there with her? Why don’t you want to come home to me?”

His jaw tightened. “Because there’s a horrific storm out there, Carmen, and it was bad enough driving in it once. Would you be going this crazy if I was at the clubhouse to wait it out, or with Angel and Lily? You’re being unreasonable, please see that. I’ll come home when I can. Bye.”

“Yikes.” Raising her eyebrows, she offered her wine glass forward, Manny taking it. She snorted softly with laughter when he drained it in one gulp.  

“You got more of that?”

She jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Another two bottles.”

“Can I stick a straw in one?”  

She laughed further as he got up, leaving her glass on the table and returning with a bottle and a second glass, filling them both. “I ain’t much of a wine guy, but this stuff is pretty good, and shit, I need it. Mind if I crash on your couch? Even if this storm passes, I ain’t in the mood to go back to all of that.” He took a sip, his hunched shoulders finally sagging a little, the tension beginning to dissipate. “She’s a fucking embarrassment sometimes. Sorry you had to hear all of that. I know you did. My girl isn’t quiet in any sense of the damned word.”

Hannah couldn’t bite her tongue in time to prevent the assessment that slipped out. “She sounds quite insecure, to rather you risk your safety driving back through a storm than to wait it out here with me. Something tells me that if you were still at Lily’s place, she wouldn’t take in issue with it, like you mentioned. It seems to be driven by me specifically.”  

“Well, she might as she’s intimidated by Lily, but you’re right, it’s a you thing.” He looked conflicted for a second, weighing up whether to reveal it all. “She hasn’t come out in as many words and said it, but she’s hella jealous of you. I think that’s understandable enough, though. You’re the kind of woman others could easily feel threatened by.”  

Hannah hadn’t actually met Carmen, his fiancée being absent whenever she’d dropped Lola round to their house, but she’d seen pictures of her within the home. She looked like a model, so with that in mind, she wondered why the hell she’d see her as a threat. That confusion showed on her face, too, Manny continuing.

“I mean, come on. You live here, downtown, expensive apartment, you’ve got a good career, you’re knockout gorgeous, and you’re the mother of my child.”

At hearing him refer to her as knockout gorgeous, her heart fluttered a little. Carmen could have only seen her in the pictures he’d shown her of Lola back when he first met her, too, when Hannah had thought she’d been looking pretty rough around the edges, frayed by the duress of being a new, single mom.  

“But she’s the one you’re marrying,” she reasoned, sipping her wine.

He let out a long breath, turning to her. “Not if she continues like this, I won’t be. It ain’t the stuff about you, although I would actually like for you guys to get along, but if she keeps on refusing to acknowledge Lola then I just can’t do it. I can’t marry somebody who won’t make even the tiniest room in her life for my daughter. I don’t want it to come to that, I love her, but fuck, HB. She’s gotta give me a little consideration here.”

He paused, turning to her, reaching to gently slap her knee. “Why can’t she be more like you? Reasonable, understanding, emotionally mature? It’s easy with you. It’s just getting harder with her.”

It was easy with him, too. Far too easy. Far too natural. Far too tempting, as her eyes flitted to between his legs when he slumped down a little further, his thighs falling wider apart, the bulge of the most perfect cock she’d ever seen filling out the dark denim entirely too well.  

Oh lord.  

[scbhagat]

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[confettifox-ships]

I picked the prompt 30, brushing against each other, linking fingers together for a second.

My F/O is Mordecai Heller from the series Lackadaisy. He's a triggerman for the speakeasy Marigold, though he used to work for the Lackadaisy, up until his mentor, Atlas, was killed. Mordecai is quite proper and cold in his demeaner, if not socially awkward and he struggles to express himself. Mordecai's parents were of German and Jewish descent and lived in poverty. Mordecai had to take care of his sisters and secretly worked as a bookkeeper in underground gambling rinks as a child for the extra money, so got an early start. Might explain his pessimistic attitude.

My S/I is Silver May. He was taken in by Atlas, the owner of the Lackadaisy, and not only worked with Mordecai back in the day but now currently works with Mordecai at the Marigold (a speakeasy fronting as a hotel). Atlas saved Silver from a terrible marriage, which has left Silver a bit skittish about romance. Silver is pessimistic, but playful and mischievous too.

Dynamic wise, Mordecai is more tender with Silver than he is others, and Silver is shy with Mordecai. Maybe they're standing on the outskirts of the Marigold Room together and have a brief hand hold for comfort? Thanks in advance!

how did you know learning to love is my favorite trope of all time? here u go, i hope you like it 💕

You feel the delicately sharpened tip of Mordecai’s claw as it unsheathes slightly. It brushes through your fur and presses so gently against your skin that were it not for the way you’ve been watching as he eases one digit against yours, you wouldn’t even have known it was touching you. He’s always gentle with you. He must want to be.

Outside of the Marigold, the air is crisp and bitter, though clear and the night lights are bright. The chill makes your fur prickle up and when you spare a glance at Mordecai, you see his has done the same, fluffing up against the cold. The scruff of fur on his neck puffs up from beneath the collar of his long coat and his breath comes in soft pale clouds, but those are the only indications that he could be cold.

The green of his eyes turns silver in the moonlight. There’s a strange beauty to his practicality, and of his lapses of it, especially when it comes to you. His serious mask slips at the times only you can see him. You curl your finger back around his, squeezing slightly. The physical affection burns your paws, leaves the pads of them hot, though not in a way that hurts like it used to. Mordecai lets go just as the sensation becomes too much to bear.

Wordlessly, he holds the backdoor of the Marigold open for you, ushering you in with a flock of his tail, the white tip catching the light brightly. Inside, the noise returns and you miss the sounds of his breath. But you can see him across the room and can see the way the habitual sternness melts away any time he catches your eye. Such gentle reciprocity of affection overwhelms you in the best possible way, leaving your fur prickling and tingling at the roots.

[pettyrevenge-base]

Treat Your Employee Like Crap? OK, I'll Hire Her...

My bookkeeper reminded me of this now that she's retiring, I'd forgot how she came to work for us... She's been our 'Mother Hen' and office fixture so long I forgot...

Close to 25 years ago, I was estimating and quoting a metal working job, factory expansion job, about 100 miles from my home/shop.

The owner was berating a fairly young bookkeeper about how a computer glitch was her fault, and using completely inappropriate language.

When we went to the job site, he explained how she 'ONLY' had a local collage degree in bookkeeping & business, and if he didn't keep her on the back foot she would want a raise & benefits, and mentioned she had to keep the job because she was a single mother.

We cut steel, installed it, so I saw this girl cry, work through lunch, be the last one to leave her department, etc.

I talked it over with my then girlfriend (now wife) about poaching this trained girl since we desperately needed a resident bookkeeper/comptroller... Like needed one 5 years ago... But if I did it would burn bridges with a customer.

Don't think I did anything that wasn't goal oriented for me/my business, we had SERIOUS issues with taxes/compliance at the time...

My girlfriend went to the job site with me, sit with this girl (young lady) and slipped her a business card not knowing if she would want to move from a city to the country... Etc.

She had worked there 5 years, got no raises or benefits in 5 years, desperately wanted another job, but knew the boss/owner would kill her job reference since she saw him do it before.

My wife rented her a little place for cheap, she started with us, and untangled the last 3 years of mess in about 3 months, for the first time ever the monthy reports were on time and the tax paperwork was done on time...

Even managed to talk the IRS/state revenue out of most of the fines/penalties.

She QUICKLY became "My Girl Friday" since she killed problems in minutes that had plagued me for years... (actual education AND experience, along with being sharp as a tack)

She met her husband here, had her wedding lakeside here, they built a house here, had two more kids here, and spent 25 years working here (High-Grand poo-bah of the office! Killer of paperwork dragons!).

She and my wife have become great friends since they both lived 'City' lives at one point and we are all country folks.

Although I kept a professional distance, so I was quite surprised when she broke down in tears at her retirement get-together saying she owed her entire life to us...

Well, no she doesn't, I was more than willing to throw money at the paperwork monsters to get the tax/compliance people off my ass!, She saved the company!

MODEL Employee, Wonderful Wife, Great Mom, and all around good person.

She doesn't 'Owe' us anything, she EARNED everything she worked HARD to get it. It's my good fortune to have been in the right place at the right time, and the right time in her life. I'm sure with her intellegence, willingness to work and learn she would have done well once she got away from that A-hole...

The Revenge.

I knew the customer I poached her from got into all kinds of tax, employee pay, and state/federal regulation problems about 6 months after she left... But I just found out when working with the state/federal tax people she leaked about his shady dealings, when we dealt with labor relations people she leaked about his shady dealings, and so on... She knew EXACTLY where to point the investigators and they didn't disappoint...

I've seen her use the innocent, "My LAST employer did this this way" or "My boss is going to be VERY ANGRY I messed this up" when talking the people out of fines or penalties from back when she didn't even work here! So thinking about it I know how she worked it into conversation without actually 'Snitching'... and they ran off, foaming at the mouth and left us alone... Sly girl! But OUR sly girl!

He lost the company inside of 18 months of her being here, it's still there and producing, just under entirely new owners & managment.

Don't screw with the people cooking your books!

She, by the way, got us through every audit from everybody/agency. Even a super audit from the IRS about 7 years ago and got complemented from the auditors about how organized and efficient she was, and how pleasant she was to work with.

She said it was 'Easy' when we followed the rules (you know, the rules I didn't know about or understand). My eyes bulge at the mention of Taxes & Easy in the same sentence...

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Quark

By Ames

Do you have the lobes for business? This week, we’re putting our knowledge of the Rules of Acquisition to the test with one of our favorite Ferengi characters: Quark! He really does it all: he tends bar, he runs a profitable casino, he romances ladies who you’d think would be way out of his league, he snarks with a certain gooey chief of security, and he schemes! Boy, does he ever scheme.

The Ferengi overall are a bit of a mixed bag, what with their ultra-capitalist, extremely misogynist society, but Quark proves throughout Deep Space Nine to be a complex and well-written person, full of contradictions and character growth. So read the full contract below and listen to this week’s podcast episode (jump to 55:53) as A Star to Steer Her By takes a seat next to Morn to try to catch the ear of the bartender. Come to Quarks, Quark’s is fun, Come right now, Don’t walk: Run!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

Make him an offer he can’t refuse Ferengi-centered episodes are typically goofball comedies and worth a laugh or five, and “The Nagus” gets us off to a quite funny start. Quark’s performance as Zek’s successor is full of funny little touches, and the allusion to The Godfather with Quark stroking a gilvo as if it were a lapcat is a good joke indeed. Quark would make a fine nagus, I say. And a decent godfather.

Who wears the clothes in this relationship? Quark may start out as a typical Ferengi, but we see glimpses of his development to becoming a better person due to hanging around all these hoomans. In “Rules of Acquisition,” he’s prepared to pay Pel ten bars of latinum to set her up in a new life, and then outthinks the Nagus when she reveals herself as a female. It’s a small step, but a big one for a Ferengi!

Being with you was the happiest time of my life Somehow, Quark is at his best when paired with reciprocating love interests. In “Profit and Loss,” (not to be confused with “Profit and Lace”), he earnestly attempts to get Natima Lang to safety when the Cardassian government is after her for being a dissident. Sure, it starts off one-sided and creepy, but Natima and Quark’s love turns out to be mutual and really sweet!

Behold the power of math! Yet again, we’re highlighting an episode in which Quark is romantically paired with a kickass female and he comes out looking swish! Not only does Quark battle D’Ghor in “The House of Quark,” but he also exposes the fraudulent bookkeeping D’Ghor had done for Grilka’s house. Quark allows Grilka, one of our favorite Klingons, to realize her agency and be her best.

If they want their money back, give it to them? People give Sisko all the credit, being the Emissary and all that, but in “Prophet Motive” we get to see Quark go into the wormhole to talk to the prophets himself! To save Zek from whatever personality rewriting the denizens of the celestial temple had done to him, Quark takes it upon himself to ensure that Rule of Acquisition #10 remains true: Greed is eternal!

The bigger the risk, the bigger the win Quark’s lobes might only be rivaled by his spine, as he demonstrates an absurd amount of bravery when he disarms the bomb that had Kool-Aid Manned into the ship in “Starship Down.” The thrill of gambling with their lives is perfectly captured in the scene and you feel both the relief and exhilaration when Quark and Hanok don’t explode into little bits.

For a minute there I thought you were talking to me as a friend As we said in the Odo post, the relationship between the constable and the barman is one of the best explored in the series. We can read between the lines how much they respect each other but just can’t say it. So when Quark (in his jammies!) goes to Odo when he’s hurting over Kira in “Crossfire” and pretends it’s just for his business ventures, we all know what it really means.

I claim the Right of Proclamation One good episode with Grilka deserves another! When the ever-glorious Grilka comes to Quark seeking financial advice in “Looking for par’Mach in All the Wrong Places,” Quark goes above and beyond to win her favor. He even practices how to fight with a bat’leth and learns some of the basics of Klingon culture, all while remaining true to his Ferengi identity! Qapla’!

Let me pour you another By the time we get deep into the Dominion War, Quark is keen to play both sides, but he does his part for the little resistance band too. In “Behind the Lines,” he slyly gets Damar shitfaced enough to spill all the information he has about taking down the cloaked minefield. Like another good bartender I could name, Quark’s main role is to tend the bar and to listen.

Nobody moves except you Soon afterwards when everything in the resistance is going headlong downhill in “Sacrifice of Angels,” Quark practically single-handedly (okay, with Ziyal’s help) saves the day! He tricks a guard using a hasperat soufflé and then straight up shoots two Jem’Hadar goons and rescues everyone from the brig. If it’s not the first time Quark has deliberately killed, he sure plays it that way.

Ferengi can be just as tough as Klingons Quark’s choice to assemble an all-Ferengi elite squadron to rescue Moogie in “The Magnificent Ferengi” may seem hare-brained (it’s a goofy Ferengi episode, after all), but it also speaks to his pride in what Ferengi can accomplish. There’s also a pure familial love for Moogie that is worth all the latinum in the Nagus’s reward (minus the finder’s fee, of course).

My, what big ears you have Finally, Quark would want to flaunt how he turned out to be right in “The Siege of AR-558” when the standoff with Jem’Hadar soldiers results in massive casualties, including costing Nog his leg. But Quark staunchly protects his nephew and uses his superior Ferengi hearing to detect incoming Jem’Hadar soldiers and blow them away before they can finish Nog off.

—

Worst moments

A contract is a contract is a contract We could really, really, really have done without this detail. Sarda, one of the Dabo girls, reveals in “Captive Pursuit” that Quark has sexual favors written into their contracts. It’s one thing for the Ferengi to be misogynists and kinda sleazy, but it’s a whole other level for him to engage in sexual manipulation, harassment, and assault. And for the writers to play it as a joke!!!

You Ferengi, you think you’re so clever but you’re stupid We gave Bashir a pat on the back the other week when he saved Jadzia’s life in “Invasive Procedures” when Verad and his hired goons kidnapped the Dax symbiont. But remember that it was all Quark’s fault that these worm snatchers got onto the station in the first place! In his greed to make another illicit deal, Quark let them through the docking ring. All for a little latinum.

I’ve been waiting for you Can we all agree that it’s a bad idea for the holodeck to be able to create holo-images of real people because it will always get gross? Geordi did it in “Booby Trap,” Barclay did it in “Hollow Pursuits,” Odo did it in “His Way,” and in “Meridian,” Quark violates Kira’s privacy to create a sex object for that creep Toran and make a little profit, which is a running theme with him.

No nephew of mine is going to disgrace our family name by joining Starfleet The way Quark scorns Nog for wanting to follow his dreams and join Starfleet is also a pretty bad look for the boy’s uncle. First he tries to forbid Nog from applying to Starfleet in “Heart of Stone” and then he rigs up the holodeck to ensure he’ll fail his exams in “Facets.” Quark just comes across as an overstepping asshole when it comes to his nephew in these cases.

Quark’s Treasure, ready to depart Shocking no one, Quark is looking to make another deal in kemocite which he couches in generosity while bringing Nog to Starfleet Academy in “Little Green Men.” And of course this gets them stranded in the past in Area 51 for a while, breaking the Temporal Prime Directive and perpetuating the trope that Quark will put profit over his family members at any cost.

Great Exchequer, take me now! I like to call “Body Parts” “Missed Opportunities: the episode!” When Quark learns he owes his desiccated remains to Brunt, Quark just… gives up on life and plans to get himself killed by Garak. And this is supposed to be a comedy! This is so not in Quark’s character and I lament that we didn’t get an episode of Quark faking his own death, which would be infinitely funnier and better!

Why, Quark? Why did you kill my baby? While most of Quark’s schemes are just typical goofy Ferengi shenanigans you’re meant to roll your eyes at and accept with a snicker, Quark actually sidles up to committing atrocities when he gets into the arms racket in “Business as Usual.” When even Jadzia, who’s the most forgiving of his Ferengi ways, won’t talk to him anymore, you know he’s gone and done wrong.

Oo-mox for Fun and Profit After years of development into a slightly better person, and just when you start thinking “maybe that episode in which Quark put sexual favors in his Dabo girls’ contracts was a fluke,” “Profit and Lace” comes along. The teaser shows Quark asking Aluura to consider giving him oo-mox or he’ll consider firing her. And by the end when he should have learned better, he’s right back at it. VOMIT.

You’re the worst thing that ever happened to the entire Ferengi Alliance Speaking of “Profit and Lace,” there’s more to hate in this deplorable episode. Quark gets into a screaming fight with his mother, blaming her radical feminism as the cause of all their problems with Brunt dethroning Zek as nagus. It’s an ugly fight in an ugly episode, and Quark cruelly goads his own moogie until she has a heart attack, jeopardizing their plan to reinstate Zek. And nearly killing her!

The REST of “Profit and Lace” I’m not done shitting on “Profit and Lace.” It should be obvious why we rated it hands-down the worst episode of Deep Space Nine, and Quark’s depiction of Lumba is at the heart of it. It’s like Quark has never seen a woman before and concocts the most demeaning caricature. The hormones are inexplicable. The walk is atrocious. The whole thing flies in the face of any message of equality the show might otherwise champion, all for the sake of a Ferengi joke.

I loved Jadzia as much as anyone in this room After pining for Jadzia in season six almost as much as Julian, Quark weasels his way onto the mission to get her soul into Sto-vo-kor. Throughout “Shadows and Symbols,” it feels like all he wants is to one-up the grief of the actual widower in the room, Worf.  Quark makes Jadzia’s death all about him and whines that Worf isn’t gracious enough that he’s there being underfoot.

Someone has to speak up and I’ve decided that someone is me As if all the ogling of Jadzia wasn’t enough, poor Ezri gets targeted by Quark once she arrives on the station. Quark butts in and advises her not to get involved with Worf in “Once More Unto the Breach,” and it’s none of his damn business! The scene plays it off like it’s romantic and funny and cute, but it’s all self serving because he fancies her. Ugh, why did only men largely write this show?

—

All bets are final and there will be no reimbursements. That’s it for our Quark chat, but we’ve got more Ferengi characters to spotlight on the way (save me). So make sure you’re following along here, keeping up with our watchthrough of Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast, place your drink order over on Facebook and Twitter, and you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.

[zahroreadsthings]

A history...

Question: How do you answer?

Response: 'I'll tell you if you tell me.' I'm curious, too.

Check notes for previous instalments

'I'll tell you if you tell me,' you say. You're curious too.

'Fair game. I asked first, though.'

'Yeah.' You close your eyes. You thought Lex knowing that you're a disgraced street magician would make this easy, but your mind's tangled with thoughts you've barely tried to pick apart.

From the start, then. You open your eyes again to stare at the sun reflecting off the water. 'It goes way back. I was fine at bookkeeping, and I actually like tax law and keeping numbers and - hey, stop laughing.'

Lex passes a hand over their face and forces their expression to neutrality. It doesn't work. 'Sorry. Go ahead.'

'I mean, I was good at it but the repetition was driving me crazy. So I picked up magic tricks to stop myself from getting bored. Just little stuff with cards and coins in front of a mirror, but I was having so much fun I started playing for friends and parties. And I got real good at it, and it turned out I had a bit of a dramatic flair and liked showing off so I got more serious. Applied for my licence, started performing as a street magician and magician for hire after work. Got involved in the local guild, made friends. I still miss them.'

You look down to follow a bird gliding in the air. 'I started putting my own spin on things and the tricks always went so well and felt so natural. So I started a double act with this guy from the guild. We worked on a trick together for ages but when we first played it in front of people...' You hook your fingers around the railing and swallow past the lump in your throat. 'He got hurt. Real bad. I couldn't... yeah. I stayed while he healed, but still. There were a few days when we were worried he would die. I couldn't stay after that. So I just - I just quit my job. Packed up and left. And now I'm here.'

You try to feel relieved it's all out but your throat still feels like it's being squeezed. It's a challenge to keep your breathing even. You hope Lex will say something.

They take a while to break their silence. 'I thought it would've been an unpaid licence or something.'

The grip around your throat loosens and you huff our a laugh. 'I still owe some pocket money to the city council.'

'I won't turn you in.'

'Thanks, Lex.'

'Man, my thing isn't much of anything. I grew up in the canal city down south. Spent more time in the water than out of it, and my family being fishers didn't help. This one time the city hosted a witch meet and I got talking to a coast witch. He said he became one after one saved him from almost drowning and he wanted to give something back. When you're a coast witch you can feel... Anyway, you know, place like that with a lot of water... everyone knows someone who's drowned.

'And then I almost drowned - just doing dumb kid stuff - and a coast witch pulled me out and something clicked in my head. I didn't want to do anything else and ran here.'