#me and this fucking technical documentation due soon

[ptb-composer]

1. Bedroom or cafe's if I know I need to focus and hit a deadline. The human noise helps.

2. When the plan comes together and the ideas just slot together properly.

3. Starting a new song and having no inspiration for what it should be.

4. I usually have PM Seymore binge compilations on in the background.

5. Composer, Steven Sondheim and Joe Hisaishi

6. I don't usually create characters, but fav character I've written for was Chloe Price in Life is Strange musical demos.

7. Terry Pratchet/Rick Riordan.

8. Five man band.

9. Romantic or ballad scenes

10. Ana's Mitchel

11. Listen to songs in the style I want it to be, go ajzijejzdisj this doesn't work, listen to different songs until something sounds right, copy down the sheet music, fuck with it, delete it then try to re create the fucked with version from memory.

12. Alcohol, partying, gaming, general forced socialising.

13. Listen to new music and broaden my stylistic knowledge.

14. For Gideon The Ninth the musical demos, I reaserched Gregorian chant music for the first tike since I dropped out of university due to stress of not understanding shit.

15. Listening to new music

16. Spotify

17. 3-5 hours on a good day. When starting a new project I always spend like 8 hours making the first song taking little to no breaks in a writing frenzy then regretting it the next day.

18. I'll usually throw out the whole song and write something completely new.

19. This is a show of death and love a grizly tale we tell, of liers, lyctors, lesbians and cavaliers that fell.

20. Check my YouTube in bio for the first 5 songs.

21. She owns you.

22. Most I've had is 22, current one is only 4.

23. Multi, that's what works in musicals best. Just to give the lead actors little breaks and time for quick changes.

24. Lyrics are basically just poetry.

25. Linear, non linear plays don't do that well. Might try one, one day.

26. Stand alone. It's hard to do a series of plays. Not impossible but hard.

27. Roughs are my demos that go out as part of a pitch document.

28. Fucking everyone.

29. The gays. Aka me. I write things I want to see.

30. "Oh Rachel see you someday, upon that silver screen. I will hold you close, again, see you soon my queen." Sung by a hopeless tumblr lesbian in a story set in 2013.

31. Captain Aiglamene, she appeared in 1 scene and I couldn't get a vibe for her musical identity so I just went generic as fuck with her.

32. Surt. His music was so fun and just flowed. I wrote his song in 1 sitting.

33. Technically yes. I'm writing music though.

34. Scrawled on the walls. I'm mentally sane I swear.

35. Jesus the lesbian is a wannabee escape artist who just wants to escape Pluto and join her dad's army.

36. She dies.

37. "What's the point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes" Dan Hardcastle. Aka Nerd³.

38. Well the outline is someone else's story I'm adapting sooooo, very good, great success.

39. Not my original characters.

40. Essentially fanfiction, of what if this story was full of gay people singing.

41. Currently 3. Trying to focus on 1 but 3 are burning in the background.

42. Look at fan art and take an amalgam of popular costume parts.

43. Yes in audio book format. I'm horribly dyslexic and books hurt my eyes and brain.

44. This will be in my head all day.

45. It's impressive to make boring non classical music.

46. It would look fucking dark and need to be animated. Animated musicals are fucking pumping potion cat snake.

47. I start by reading the book that already exists and song spotting. Going through the book and going, that scene should be a song. Oh this is dramatic as shit, song. Awsw tender, song.

48. Rock.

49. The middle, it slogs.

50. The current one, lesbian necromancers solving a murder mystery in space and singing.

51. Skeletons, ginger, Catholic, goth, lesbians.

52. I started writing when I was fucking depressed and it helped me out of my mental illness. 5 years ago.

53. It means escape from the darkness.

54. If you're thinking about writing, write. If you keep putting it off you'll never write anything.

New ask game for writers

1. Favorite place to write. 2. Favorite part of writing. 3. Least favorite part of writing. 4. Do you have writing habits or rituals? 5. Books or authors that influenced your style the most. 6. Favorite character you ever created. 7. Favorite author. 8. Favorite trope to write. 9. Least favorite trope to write. 10. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about. 11. Describe your writing process from scratch to finish. 12. How do you deal with self-doubts? 13. How do you deal with writers block? 14. What’s the most research you ever put into a book? 15. Where does your inspiration come from? 16. Where do you take your motivation from? 17. On avarage, how much writing do you get done in a day? 18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like? 19. First line of a WIP you’re working on. 20. Post a snippet of a WIP you’re working on. 21. Post the last sentence you wrote in one of your WIP’s. 22. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied and a project is ultimately done for you? 23. Single or multi POV, and why? 24. Poetry or prose, and why? 25. Linear or non-linear, and why? 26. Standalone or series, and why? 27. Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished? 28. And who do you share them with? 29. Who do you write for? 30. Favorite line you’ve ever written. 31. Hardest character to write. 32. Easiest character to write. 33. Do you listen to music when you’re writing? 34. Handwritten notes or typed notes? 35. Tell some backstory details about one of your characters in your story ________. 36. A spoiler for story _________. 37. Most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you. 38. Have you shared your outline of your story ________ with someone? If so, what did they think of it? 39. Do you base your characters of real people or not? If so, tell us about one. 40. Original Fiction or Fanfiction, and why? 41. How many stories do you work on at one time? 42. How do you figure out your characters looks, personality, etc. 43. Are you an avid reader? 44. Best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten. 45. Worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten. 46. What would your story _______ look like as a tv show or movie? 47. Do you start with characters or plot when working on a new story? 48. Favorite genre to write in. 49. What do you find the hardest to write in a story, the beginning, the middle or the end? 50. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had. 51. Describe the aesthetic of your story _______ in 5 sentences or words. 52. How did writing change you? 53. What does writing mean to you? 54. Any writing advice you want to share?

[bawkrya]

infodump. now !!

WEEEEEEEEEEEE

ok so im going to keep this singular ask topical (the others r goign to b unrelated) and talk about my bitch Norve & co. Note, im following my own lore and taking what i like from canon and doing what i want with it. not following canon strictly WHATsoever

This is the Great King Norve, or most commonly known The Holy Flail/Jhortanas Holy Flail. have his sexy gijinka wip too

as his title implies, he belongs to the Plaguebringer! Norve is said to be among one of the first followers of the Plaguebringer, but he wasn’t quite a dragon when he was born. He was more of a bundle of untamed magic that managed to gain enough sentience to begin trailing after a god, which happened to be a really young Plaguebringer. The Plaguebringer saw just how fucking Potent his magic was at the time and was like wow, that could be useful, and snapped up this ball of magic and forged him into a Flail to be used during battle.

Any time this mf struck something, it would basically be an insta kill. His spikes were always coated in Plaguebringers most dangerous shit, like wyrmwound soup type shit, on top of being coated in “perfumes”, so even breathing too close to him could get someone very sick very fast.

After the war between Plague and Nature settles slightly from the beginning, he gains a physical dragon form, which ideally would be an imperial but i dont see that happening for me anytime soon, but also like he wasnt really a modern dragon breed ofc. He was like, a REALLY really proto-type plague breed that never saw the light of day for a good while, but eventually he would be pushed into other forms because of how unstable it was, on top of his already fucky magic.

Norve. LOVED the plaguebringer. VERY passionately. he had no basis of what is considered modern romance, so for us in the present time, he would seem near obsessive of her. He was at her side at basically all times, if he wasnt in dragon form he would be a flail latched onto her in some way, etc etc etc, she did Not leave his site, and vice versa. This dedication to her became pretty well known, so he’s documented in a view historical texts as a Worshipper & Weapon of the Plaguebringer.

so, BECAUSE of how much he adored her, a lot of mfs are confused as to like. why the hell he’s against her now. After a more “recent” aka 2000 years ago war between Plague & Nature yet again, Norve very Very suddenly pulled away from the Plaguebringer with little to no stated reason why. He was still a dragon, he had his Own following under the plaguebringer and was responsible for a lot of shit, he was event connected to the sprites and goblins and shit so its like. Hello? but he was like. Fuck you guys. and dug a hole in the ground as far as he could. which is how he meets Pentes!

Pentes is the Lord Alluvium! He was quite literally mud when King Norve found him, and norve only realized he was even there bc he tried digging into him and pentes was like Hey. Kill Yourself. and norve was like wow. ok?

So norve puts this mf in a JAR and carries this sprite bitch around until Pentes eventually gains a “Dragon” form by pure exposure from Norve. Norve, again, is a very potent magical guy, so its stupid easy to just gain magic if you cant die from poison from him. which is what happens with Pentes! Pentes had his own magic tbf considering he had sentience, he just didnt have enough cultivated to take on a proper form that wasnt Mud. 

But he does take that form! They become besties, and Pentes eventually takes over an old Plague civilization and becomes the Eternal King, which is how he ends up marrying Xanthia, and he gets his own mess of drama because Pentes is for a lack of better words a cunt

anyways while Pentes is stirring shit, norve heads over to Old Light Area and finds Trolen!

trolen is a Proto-Imperial, meaning he was one of the very first made, and is absolutely RIDDEN in shade-muck, so much so that he can technically be considered an Emperor due to accidentally absorbing some mfs. It’s only really apparent in his horns though

so instead of just suibaiting norve, Trolen actually tries to kill him when they first meet.

Im still hashing out the details of their first meeting bc its supposed to be really intense, but these guys are gay. they end up just infatuated with each other. its supposed to be “downlow” but deity esque beings really dont know how to be downlow, so one of Trolens titles is literally King’s Wife. She’s old as hell, makes emperors bc she thinks its funny, and eventually moves down to the giant fucking hole that Norve dug and turns it into a literal castle that has the same vibe as the Lord Darkness’ castle from Legend 1985 LOL

slightly before they met though, Trolen created Anura

anura this sexy bastard is a problem child. to Trolens standard. hes also very much a “YOURE NOT MY DAD” kid to Norve, so while Norve claims him as his son when it comes to religious shit surrounding him on top of political, they dont really talk. LOL. so norve doesnt rlly care about whats going on between anura and trolen in the present, he only rlly cares if trolen starts to get like, actually upset by whats happening, but trolen doesnt take anura seriously enough rn to be mad abt him rebelling LMFAO.

more recently tho, Anura got a baby Emperor sister named Marigold

and this one norve DOES claim to be his little baby daughter that he loves so much and spoils to death because HE helped make her      (he chose the imperials trolen used)

Marigold is really obedient, but Anura is like 90% sure its because of how young she is (shes 50~ yrs vs Anura being a couple thousand), so hes holding out on her starting to turn on Trolen, which is when he’ll take her in. She doesnt really like Anura rn tho. but she LOVES norve and if she isnt hanging out w her mom she is hanging out with her dad. No one knows why Trolen made her tho bc he was pretty blatant that it wasnt for any sort of “family” thing, he wouldve just revived a singular one instead of using a lot of energy for a triple head, so its made a lot of dragons anxious bc whoops another holy war might happen heehee!!!

which that fear is only worsened bc norve is having gay sex with the harvest god.

So. Norve created the dragons of vermin right like theyre the vermin thats what all of these guys are apart of, and as of 100 years ago, Locust joined the dragons of vermin. he is one of the twins that make up the Insecta Kings, and they are the gods responsible for Harvest and etc. Right. so theyre the opposite of the vermin! So why the fuck is one of the harvest gods in the vermin gang and banging the leader.

thats something trolen also wants to know, but many are speculating its because of Norves recent call to murk the fucking Grand Deities (aka Plaguebringer/Gladekeeper/etc.). Locust is a very sleazy/greedy bitch and he wants NOTHING more than to gain as much power as he genuinely can. Hes unfortunately a very polar opposite of his brother Mantis, and just does Not give a proper shit for the people who worship him, and its mostly because hes had no genuine exposure to “human” (dragon rather) mortality or in general experience. Basically he cant bring himself to have empathy for something he knows nothing about personally

anyways so hes been striking deals with Norve in order to push for the killing of the Grand deities, and in the mean time norve accidentally informed him hes gay, which really sucks for the last two wives that Locust killed bc he panicked when he started talking to women. like you couldve told him that sooner?

ok thats all i have for my brain right now. my Lorekeeper Adrasteia holds a current wip that goes into a bit more detail of the individual vermin bitches, on top of the lads having tidbit information in their bios themselves except for like, Norve and Marigold.

[starrynite7114]

everything is you: nine

A/N: I figured, why not update this too? LOL So, I would like to already apologize. The first half of this chapter is very angsty and has mentions of sexual abuse. I know it gets tiring for this slow burn, but I promise it will be worth it. 

Thank you for all the support! I really appreciate it! Also, I posted the everything is you short: first meeting! Enjoy! Love you all!

everything is you

one : two : three : four : five : six : seven : eight

Word count: 9952

Warnings: Angst, sexual abuse, death

Masterlist

tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @thewarriorprincessxo : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life :  @claytoncardenasbabymama : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @mrs-losa : @1-800-imagines : @phoenixhalliwell : @lady-pswrld : @dazzledamazon  : @getyourcrayoncas : @fvckthisbxtchup : @lukealvxz : @scuzmunkie : @lilac-tea-time : @danie1432 : @cocotheclown : @soaronmywings : @my-rosegold-soul : @buttercup812 : @itskiranbitch : @angelreyesgirl : @sheeshgivemeabreak : @vicmackeybullshxt : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer : @khyharah : @strawberrywritings : @cherry-icetea : @fuzzy-jellyfish : @losolvidad0s : @brownsugarcoffy : @courtrae89 : @prdsdjarin : @blessedboo : @marvelmaree : @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat : @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead : @thesandbeneathmytoes : @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind : @maddie-georges : @pearlkitten33 : @aquamento : @incorrect-mcdanno : @that-chick212 : @imanerdychubbyqueen​

Thanks! @carlaangel86​ <3

Coco chuckled as he watched Alena take another shot. His baby sister called him over to San Diego and he decided to bring Riz over with him. Whenever Alena called he came and along with all his other brothers. They all had such a soft spot for Alena.

“Damn, so Monica is Cruz’s teacher? I mean, it’s been years, I’m sure it’s not a worry.” Riz reasoned with Alena.

“Doesn’t matter, he’ll be single soon and it’ll be just like all those romantic comedies and my Korean dramas.” Alena laughed before taking another shot. “It’s so smooth, I love drinking with you two. I hope we can still hang out once Angel and I are divorced.”

“Shut the fuck up Alena, we would disown Angel first before we would disown you.” Coco shook his head. “Why wasn’t Angel invited?”

“I don’t want to see Angel. We don’t always have to be together.”

Riz laughed. “Right, you tell him that.”

Angel has been blowing up Coco and Riz’s phone ever since they got to Alena’s. He was upset that he wasn’t invited, but he had to stay in Santo Padre and be with Cruz. Alena was in San Diego since she had a work emergency. 

“When was the longest time you didn’t see Angel? Was it the time he served?” Coco questioned. The club truly pulled through for Angel then, taking care of Alena and Cruz when he served time in jail a few years ago. 

It was a hellish 18 months and Cruz was only two years old. Alena held on strong and when he got out, Coco thought Angel would get his head out of his ass, he almost did, but this thing with the rebels popped through.

“Yeah, it was.” Alena frowned remembering that time. It was hard for her to be apart from Angel, but she tried to visit him all the time. His sentence was cut short to 18 months instead of the slated three. She was incredibly thankful for that. She documented every move Cruz made.

“Why didn’t you tell him how you felt when he got out?” Coco really hated watching this whole thing between Alena and Angel, mostly due to Alena. 

She was too good for him Angel. Not in the sense people thought, but more of the fact that, Alena was too kind to Angel. Out of her pure love for Angel, she stood by him regardless of his actions because she wanted to be there for him. He shouldn’t push her, but he wanted to. They were fucking adults, it was time to end the games.

“So when are you going to confess to Angel?” Riz questioned.

“The way I see it, you have nothing to lose Lenny.” Again, Coco was playing Devil’s Advocate, but maybe if Alena confessed, Angel would get his head out of his ass.

Alena was silent for a moment. She had nothing to lose, Coco was right. This also maybe the large amount of alcohol she consumed, but as people always said, her mother raised no bitch. “Fuck it, I’m going to call him.” Alena picked up her phone.

Riz and Coco picked up their shot glasses, encouraging her.

“Damn right, fuck social norms and tell that mother fucker you love him.” Riz encouraged. 

“You’re right!” Alena giggled, taking a swig straight from the Soju bottle. “Angel doesn’t love me, so the fuck what? I love him and he’s going to know.” 

Angel listened to Alena talking to whoever the fuck she was talking to, though he assumed it’s Coco and Riz since they told him that they would be going to Alena’s apartment. He wasn’t worried, he trusted them, but he was still antsy. His heart rate increased hearing Alena tell his brothers that she loved him, even if he didn’t love her.

He couldn’t wait to confess to this silly girl, the woman who’s had him since he could remember. 

“Cielo?” He called for her attention.

“Angel,” she dreamily greeted him. “How are you?”

“I’m good baby girl, are you doing okay?” He smirked, loving that tint of pink on her cheeks.

Alena nodded her head, biting her lip. “Do you have company?”

“Yeah baby, Cruz, but he’s asleep.” Angel moved his camera so she could see Cruz.

“My baby!” Alena squealed a little too loudly. She covered her mouth, giggling with Riz and Coco laughing in the background. 

“You having fun?”

“Always, they’re my favorite Mayans!” She blew kisses at the two who pretended to catch it. 

“What about me?” Angel pouted.

“You’re in a different league.” Alena scoffed, before she laughed. Angel loved seeing Alena so damn carefree. He just wished he was with her right now. “Angel, want to know a secret?” She moved closer to the screen, so she could whisper it to him. Drunk Alena was absolutely adorable, but she was also handsy. “I love you, not as a best friend, older brother type of love, which is disgusting, but I’m in love with you. I would give up anything for you. And I did, I gave up Paris for you because I just wanted you to have Cruz. When I first saw you hold Cruz, you should have seen the smile on your face.” 

Riz and Coco watched as Alena confessed to Angel. They slightly regretted encouraging her, but Alena needed this, so did Angel, Alena might not remember, which was fine, that’s what they’re here for, to record the whole thing. 

Angel felt his heart clenched as he watched the tears fall from Alena’s eyes. He wasn’t sure what Riz and Coco gave his wife, but he was appreciating this. It was definitely different to hear from Alena that she was going to walk away from him.

“I just want you to love me Angel. I want you to see me as more than a friend, I want you to love me, to hold me, to just be here for me.” Angel didn’t want Alena’s confession like this, but he figured this was as honest as he was going to get her without her self doubt plaguing her mind. “I remember during prom, I wanted you to take me because it would have been a magical night, but you took Emily’s friend to help EZ out. Then after that, every other woman came and you know, that’s okay, because you were happy. But I wanted you to look at me just once and tell me I was beautiful, that your eyes were only for me.” Alena wiped her eyes. “When I told you my coach was touching me inappropriately, you made no hesitation and helped me. When I told my father he accused me of not wanting to swim anymore, an ungrateful child. Then he kicked me out and you and your family took me in. I wanted to end my life, but it’s like you knew because you were always there when I was losing myself.” 

Riz and Coco’s heart broke as Alena told Angel how she felt. They always knew their relationship ran deep, but this was something else. Riz never knew about Alena’s coach, but Coco did. He also knew why Alena let the motherfucker touch him. Thinking about not having Alena in their lives, if she was successful with ending it all, their lives would be much dimmer, darker. And Angel wouldn’t be what he was, an obnoxious loved up puppy, who was honestly one of the best fathers’ they knew.

“But I know that you like being the hero, to take care of someone, which is why you tolerate me. I want to let you know that you don’t have to anymore. I love you, and because I do, I’m going to let you go. Fifteen years, I’ve been in love with you for fifteen years.” Alena smiled such a broken smile that Coco and Riz almost reached for her phone, but they were frozen. It was like she needed this, this had to happen. “You have Cruz now and when we divorce you’re free to do whatever you please, just please don’t take Cruz away from me. He’ll be all I have of you. I know he’s technically your son, but he’s my son too.”

Angel gripped the phone harder, the tears streaming down his face. Is this what he did to her? Is this how much he’s hurt her? He could never take Cruz away from her, he could never be away from her, neither of them could.

Alena took another drink of the bottle. “Want to know something pathetic?”

“Alena.” His voice was broken, running his fingers through his hair as the burden on Alena’s shoulders came out. 

“No, listen.” She placed her index finger against her lips, telling him to not speak. “I knew what I was getting into, knew what would happen if I let you in, but I didn’t care. For once, I felt like you saw me and it felt so good. We were a family, you, me and Cruz. You always made me feel wanted and loved during those brief moments that you would show how much you care for me. Dumb stupid and naive Alena.” She let out a sob, wiping the snot coming from her nose. “Every time I’m about to walk away you always reel me back in, but not this time. I’m letting you go, not to be with Victor or anything, but so you can meet the love of your life and have a family with her. I really wished we had a child, just so I can have them and Cruz.” She managed to smile into the camera. Finishing the bottle, she placed it on the table, not even registering Angel’s reaction to this whole thing. “I love you Angel Ignacio Reyes, and because of that, I wish you a lifetime of happiness and love, even without me. You don’t have to protect me anymore, remind me of my silly appointments and medication refills, you’ll be worry free, just like my father when he walked away from me. I won’t burden you with myself anymore.” She looked up at Riz and Coco. They could tell she was barely holding it together. The two looked at the broken young woman before them and immediately stood up. Riz took Alena, crushing her onto his chest while Coco took the phone. He looked at Angel who was a sobbing mess as well.

“I’m on my way.” 

EZ immediately came to take care of Cruz. He didn’t ask any questions, especially seeing how distraught Angel was and the fact he spoke to him. Angel got on his motorcycle and sped all the way to San Diego. When he arrived, Riz and Coco were on the couch, solemnly drinking. They looked up at him, ashamed of what occurred.

“Hermano, it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. She was telling us how much she loves you and we just encouraged her to confess to you since she had nothing to lose, we knew she had nothing to lose.” Coco sniffled, wiping his eyes. “I didn’t expect for her to,” Coco sighed. “You have to fix this Angel, Alena deserves better than this.”

“Where is she?” 

“Her room, she worked herself up and had an asthma attack.” Riz frowned. “She’s fine, we remembered how to use her nebulizer and gave her medications. She’s better now.”

“Thank you.” Angel’s eyes were locked on Alena’s closed door. “You two know where the futon and shit is.”

“Don’t worry about it, we got it. Just take care of your wife.” Coco’s heart broke watching Alena work herself up. They wanted to give Alena the night off, to release her inhibitions, but not like this. They both knew they wouldn’t leave till they saw Alena up and breathing later on in the day. 

Angel quickly made his way to her room, quietly opening and closing the door. He found Alena on the bed, still crying but not as worked up. She didn’t even get up to check who it was.

“Coco, can you get me more Soju, I feel like it’s leaving my body.” Alena giggled. “I can smell Angel.” 

Angel would have laughed if he wasn’t hurting so much. He did all of this shit to Alena, he hurt her so much. No amount of groveling would ever forgive his sins, but from now on, he was going to make sure he would treat her better, be better for her.

He was in such distress, he didn’t even put on his kutte. He just had sweatpants on and a hoodie. Taking off his hoodie, he placed it on Alena’s chair. Alena was facing her side of the bed. He put one knee on her bed and Alena still didn’t turn to face him. He laid on his side, placing a hand on her hip.

“Hey baby,” he whispered into her ear as he made himself comfortable.

Alena turned to face him then, her eyes were red from all the crying, eyelids puffy. She smiled and placed her hand on his cheek.

“Oh man, I must have drank so much, I’m imagining that Angel is here.” She caressed his cheek. “Hello Imaginary Angel, you feel and smell real.”

Angel had to smile at that. “You doing okay?” He brushed her hair back, making Alena close her eyes.

“Yes Imaginary Angel.” She offered him a small smile. “I hope Real Angel doesn’t hate me because of everything I put him through.”

“Alena, I could never hate you.” He felt his tears well up again. Hearing Alena say all those things, how she was going to kill herself, how he tolerated her, and how she was a burden, it shattered Angel’s heart. How could she even think that? “How can you think you’re a burden to me? That I tolerate you?”

“Because everyone does. I’m the girl that everyone walks all over and forgets. I’m the one that everyone needs till I serve my purpose. I’m the one that gives, because I want to help everyone. I’m sickly, weak, and everyone just tolerates me because they need me.” Alena took her hand off Angel’s face, placing it in between them. “All the women who befriended me wanted an in with Real Angel, EZ or my brother. Carla is the only person I genuinely have. Real Angel likes being the hero, he feels second best to his brother, which is crazy because he’s better than EZ. He has a big heart and he always saved me when I needed him. Maybe you can visit me imaginary Angel, so I won’t miss real Angel as much.” She closed her eyes, covering her mouth as she coughed. “I’m preparing for the day he walks away, but it’s really hard.” Her eyes opened, a few tears falling from her eyes, her voice breaking as she said the last word. Her voice was just above a whisper.

Fuck, Alena was killing him.

“Alena, listen to me. I love you, I really do, I’m sorry I took as long as I did, but you’re the love of my life. It’s not about tolerating you, you’re never been a burden to me. If anything, I felt you were tolerating me. That I was burdening you. You do so much for me and I’m a fucking idiot for never noticing. I’ve taken advantage of you, but never again.” And that was a promise. “You’ve done so much for me and Cruz. He loves you as much as I love you, maybe even more. You’re our life Alena. Don’t prepare for a life without me, because there is no life without you.”

Alena giggled, pinching Angel’s cheek. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Imaginary Angel is saying all the things I want real Angel to say. I hope you visit me often when Angel divorces me.” Alena snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her running his fingers through her hair.  “Imaginary Angel, I love Angel so much. Want to know a secret? The coach told me that if I didn’t let him touch me, that he would hurt Angel, cause he noticed how Angel always waited for me after practice. But don’t tell Angel because I never told him.” 

Angel froze hearing Alena’s words. 

That motherfucker did what now?

No, Alena would have told him.

No.

He pulled away from her and noticed how heavy her eyes were she was getting sleepy.

“Alena, hey, wake up.” He cupped her face, softly rubbing his thumb on her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered open, giving him a sleepy smile.

“Please tell me that isn’t true, please don’t tell me it is.”

“About the coach? It was imaginary Angel, he told me that if I told anyone, no one would believe me. That real Angel wouldn’t want me anymore cause I was tainted.” Alena intertwined their hands in between them. “He told me to think of real Angel while he was touching me, that I would enjoy it more. I didn’t, and he would get mad and hit me.” Alena frowned, looking at Angel’s chest as she spoke. “He tried to rape me the day Angel took that video of us. I never told Angel that my father let him in our home and he touched me there too. My father trusted him because he was the son of an old friend.”

Angel sat up, he couldn’t take it. Alena didn't do this, not for him. He wasn’t worth it. How could she let that happen? The rage within him was strong, beyond anything he ever felt. That motherfucker touched his precious Alena, using him for her nightmare.

He was going to find this motherfucker and he was going to kill him.

“Imaginary Angel, real Angel has been my hero and I would never want anyone to hurt him.”

“So it’s okay for you to be hurt for me?” Angel didn’t mean to be harsh, but he was angry.

“I can take it, for him I could. I’m strong to you know, for him and Cruz I am.”

“Alena,” Angel wiped his tears, running his fingers through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me? You had every opportunity to do so, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because he said he would hurt real Angel, I couldn’t risk that. Angel is all I have. My family could turn their backs on me, but he never did.” Alena looked down at him. “Can you hold me again imaginary Angel, you feel like real Angel and I just want to cherish every moment we have left together. Please come visit me when he’s gone.”

Angel hated that she was preparing for this life without him. That she was preparing to endure for him again as long as he was happy. He always planned on being better for Alena, but he definitely was this time around. There was no way Alena was going to do this again, keep things to herself. They were a team, a unit and he was going to have her believe it.

Angel immediately held her. He couldn’t stop the tears from coming down from his eyes. He was going to fix this, Alena would never have to feel this type of pain again. Once everything settled, he was going to find that coach and fucking kill him, something he should have done ages ago.

“It’s going to kill me to see him with someone else.” Alena was running her fingers up and down his back.

“You’re never going to see that cause I love you and only you.” Angel knew this reassurance wouldn’t register, but he would prove it to her.

Alena laughed. “Imaginary Angel, you really are saying everything I want Real Angel to say. You know, I hope he dates Adelita when we divorce. She would be good for him, he needs a strong woman to hold him down. Or maybe Monica, cause she’s good with kids and she was the one that got away.”

“You don’t think you’re strong cielo? You’re the strongest person I know.” And she was. For having to deal with him, Alena was the strongest person he knew. This was killing him. How could he want anyone else when he had her? “She isn’t the one that got away Alena, I willingly let her go.”

“Real Angel really loved her. And now she’s back, it’s like a romantic movie.” He heard her voice crack at her last word. He told her not to worry about it when they dropped off Cruz a few days ago, it was silly of him to think it would register or sink in for Alena.

“Alena, I fucking told you, Monica doesn’t mean anything to me.” 

“It’s okay, Imaginary Angel, you’re really boosting my confidence.” Alena giggled. 

“You’re driving me insane Alena. I don’t need anyone else, but you. If there is anyone that would be the one that got way, it would be you and that’s never going to happen.” Angel was determined to make Alena his, at least in her eyes because for everyone else, it’s been them for a long time. 

“Victor told me that he was going to help me become stronger. He’s such a nice guy. I would date him just so it’ll make the aching for Angel less.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.

“That’s not going to happen Alena, I told you, it’s you and me. I’m not going to divorce you.”

“Maybe not you imaginary Angel.” Alena giggled again, rubbing her face against his chest. “You’re so warm. Want to know what sucks?”

“What?”

“I let Victor kiss me to see how it felt and it was nothing compared to Real Angel.” Alena sighed. “I’m pathetic. Everyone is compared to Angel, but I’m sure all the girls Angel dated, I fail in comparison to, especially Monica.” That wasn’t true. They failed in comparison to her. “When that woman was sewing his patch on, that hurt. But Angel was moving up in the club and I was so happy. I’m really going to have to avoid him, which is why I’m moving to New York.”

Angel did not like all the revelations that were going on. 

“New York?”

“Sssh, don’t tell Real Angel. Victor has been talking to me about this art program there and I really want to try. It would help since my life revolves around Angel. I’ll still be here for Cruz and visit him whenever I can, but I’m going to leave, unlike Paris, I’m going to go and nothing is going to stop me.”

She was doing it again. She was plotting to leave him.

Jokes on her because that just wasn’t happening.

“You think I would let you go?”

Alena pulled away from him, looking up at Angel.

“Well hopefully you don’t imaginary Angel, you’re going to keep me sane.” She bopped his nose with her finger. “But real Angel won’t care, he already has Cruz, I’m not useful anymore. Remember I told you, everyone cares till I’m no longer useful and I’m not. Geez, pay attention.” She laughed. “He can be with Monica.”

Angel wanted to shake Alena. How could she even think he wouldn’t care about her leaving him? How could she think Monica was the one that got away? That was hardly the case. Most of all, how could she think that he was going to throw her away because she was no longer useful? This was ridiculous.

“I know this isn’t registering to you right now, but I’m going to prove to you that I love you and I’m worth it. You’re the love of my life Alena, I would never let you go. I’m a selfish bastard and that’s fine, as long as I have you. I would be lost without you.”

Alena remained silent. And Angel wasn’t sure if she fell asleep.

“You think he’ll miss me.”

“I always miss you.”

Alena’s breathing evened out, her body relaxing against his. Angel laid on his back, placing Alena’s head on his chest. He was done with the games. His girl needed him and he would give her the world, whatever it took.

Angel reluctantly left Alena since he didn’t want her to freak out knowing he came to San Diego. He knew Alena wouldn’t be ready to talk about it, he wouldn’t push her either. So now, he was waiting with Cruz anxiously as Alena made her way down from San Diego. Coco and Riz stayed and he requested for them not to mention anything. This was between him and Alena.

The door opened and Cruz immediately jumped down the couch.

“Mama!” He ran over to Alena and she picked him up, showering him with kisses. 

“Hey Cruzie,” she cooed, rubbing their noses together. “Mama missed you.”

“I missed you!” He wrapped his arms around her neck. He peppered her with kisses as well making Alena smile.

Angel stood up and walked over to Alena. He took Cruz and placed him on the ground, making the young boy frown.

“Daddy, it’s Cruzie and mommy time.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I know little man. Daddy deserves love too.” Angel chuckled. He couldn’t help it. He hugged her, pulled away, cupped her face and kissed her. “Hey baby.” He pecked her lips one more time before stepping away. He saw the blush on her cheeks as she smiled, looking down at Cruz, not wanting to meet Angel’s gaze. He wasn’t obtuse of the effect he had on her, but after last night, he knew to not take advantage of what he had with Alena. His heart was still hurting.

She let that despicable man touch her to protect him. 

The rage he felt was indescribable. He felt powerless because he should have ended this man’s life. Alena told him it was only for a few months, but he doubted that now.

He was certain that it was ongoing for more than six months and that hurt him again. His precious Alena endured for him and whatever he suffered through was nothing. She thought he didn’t want her. His hot and coldness towards her left a mark. This would be something he’ll try to fix for the rest of their lives, but that was fine because Alena was worth it. 

They all sat on the couch, Alena strategically placing Cruz in between them.

“I was thinking we should go to the zoo tomorrow.” Angel’s eyes were just focused on Alena. Her confession, New York, everything was plaguing his mind. 

“Um, sure, I’ll ask Letty if she wants to come.” Alena kept her eyes trained on the television, PJ Mask was a stationary in their household.

“How was your night?” Angel questioned.

“Good, it says I FaceTimed you, did I really do that?” Alena hoped she didn’t say anything crazy. She had the craziest dream that she had a full blown confession to Angel and she was talking to an imaginary Angel. God, her dreams could be so vivid at times. 

“Yeah, you, Coco and Riz were just messing around.” 

Alena nodded their head. “Yeah, I had like eight bottles of Soju last night, unwinding to the fullest.”

Angel chuckled. “I bet. You doing good baby?”

Alena finally looked over at Angel and she smiled, nodding her head. “Yes, why? Am I missing something?”

“I’m just checking on you cielo.” 

“You don’t have to, I’m okay.”

“How can I not, you’re my wife, I always have to make sure you’re okay.”

Alena nodded her head. “Well from now on, don’t even fret over me, I’m fine.” 

This was it, she was pushing him away again. But not this time. He wasn’t going to let her.

“Tough shit Alena, I worry about you so regardless if you want it or not, I’m always going to check in.”

“You don’t have to worry about me Angel, you know I would tell you if something is going on. I’m an adult, I can handle myself you know.” Alena was curious why Angel was looking at her like she would break apart any minute. She didn’t like it and made her feel something else occurred last night.

“But that’s the thing, you wouldn’t tell me if something was bothering you because you’re trying to spare me.”

Alena was confused by his statement. Though it was true, she wondered why Angel was bringing it up.

Cruz looked at his father then his mother, cuddling closer to Alena. “Do I have a sibling yet?”

Alena and Angel looked at one another, bursting out in laughter. The tension that was rising was broken by their son.

“I thought we agreed on a puppy?” Alena scooped Cruz in her arms, blowing raspberries on his tummy. The gleeful shriek he let out made Angel chuckle.

“No, baby sister.” Cruz shook his head looking over at his father. “Right daddy? Baby sister?” Angel nodded his head in agreement. He wanted a little Alena.

“Why do you want a sister Cruzie? You don’t want a little brother?” Alena questioned.

“No, little sister so she looks like you.” Cruz crawled onto Alena’s lap. He placed his hands on her cheeks. “Then I can take care of her and protect her.”

Alena smiled, thinking of how much of a great big brother Cruz would be. “Yeah Cruzie? What will we name your baby sister if you get one?”

“Mmm,” Cruz thought for a moment. “Alena.”

Alena and Angel both chuckled. 

“Little man, we can’t name your baby sister after mama.” Angel turned to face them, his hand resting on Alena’s thigh. “How about Isabella?”

“I like that!” 

Alena and Angel listened to Cruz as he talked about all the things he could do with his baby sister. Angel looked up at Alena, her confession last night was still in his mind. He was thinking of all the things he could do for his wife, to prove to her that he was as devoted to her as she was to him. Maybe he couldn’t give up opportunities outside of Santo Padre like she could because he was a fuck up and stupid compared to his brother, but he’ll show her he was worthy.

==========

Angel pushed the cart down the aisle, looking at the list Alena gave him. Every once in a while, Angel did the grocery shopping to let Alena rest. She always did the grocery runs for the club and Vicky’s, the least he could do was to do it for their family. He left Cruz and Alena asleep on their bed after a morning of family painting. Much like while they’re sitting watching television, Alena kept her distance, mostly sticking by Cruz. 

He knew what she was doing, and this was not going to go on for long, not if he could help it.

Coco dumped four bags of chips in the cart, Angel giving him an incredulous look.

“First of all, who the fuck needs these much chips. Second of all, Alena likes the kettle chips, not plain old Lays.” Angel kept the Lays Cheddar Cheese and Sour Cream since he knew Alena liked that, but otherwise he took the other three bags, giving it back to Coco. “You call yourself her best friend? She doesn’t like any of the other ones.”

“They’re for me, idiot. Gilly has Alena’s picks.” Coco scoffed, placing the bags back down. Sure enough, Gilly came with a bag of the Lays a Cheddar Cheese along with the Ruffles version of the flavor. He had the kettle chips, original and the jalapeño ones as well. 

“You don’t usually go grocery shopping, you in the dog house?” Gilly questioned as he placed the bags down. 

“Surprised you haven’t told Gilly.” Angel continued to push the cart, adding the pasta sauce Alena requested. She made it easy on him, listing the exact brands and the alternatives he could get.

“He told me.” Gilly had his arms crossed, blocking Angel’s way. “So what’s the plan?”

“With what?” Angel grabbed a box of spaghetti, fettuccine and penne. 

“Alena, are you going to confess soon or are you going to continue to let her wallow on feeling unworthy of your love.”

Angel placed the list down on top of the eggs, narrowing his eyes at Gilly. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but I don’t have to explain anything to you. What’s going on between me and my wife is between us. I appreciate your concern for my wife,” he emphasized the last two words. “But I plan on telling her what is going on soon.”

“You always say that, then you get fucking cold feet and you take back what you say. It’s different this time, I know. But how much more can Alena take? This girl devoted her life to you and the best you can do is confess to her? I get it, that would mean the world to her, but you have to give her a little more Angel. She’s moved mountains for you and took care of your son.” Angel was his brother, something he recognized and held dearly, but much like everyone, he watched this dance for far too long. Last night was what broke the camel’s back for everyone. It seemed that it was a consensus that decided that if Angel took back his words this time, they would make it a point to get Alena the fuck away from him. They wouldn’t let her stand by him. Angel was their brother, but this was tough love.

“You don’t think I fucking know that? You don’t think I know that she gave up her dreams so she can help me? I don’t need you reminding of my shortcomings with Alena cause it’s always in the back of my mind.” Angel didn’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the grocery aisle, but he was thankful that it was early in the afternoon. “I’m not going to take it back. Even though you fuckers hope I do so you can make a move, you all can fuck yourselves.” Angel knew it wasn’t true, but he wanted to push this aside. This wasn’t the right place for this conversation.

“You’re a damn idiot.” Gilly shook his head, moving out of the way. 

The boys continued to get everything on Alena’s list, adding a few things they knew her and Cruz would like. As they made their way to the check out lines, Angel looked over to the side, almost bumping the cart. His eyes landed on Alena’s former coach, Coach Marvin Henderson. As soon as Marvin’s eyes landed on Angel, his eyes drifted to his kutte, Gilly and Coco before immediately turning the other way. Angel could tell how the fear just sunk in on his body, that tensed up. He kept looking back making sure Angel didn’t follow. He was with a woman who looked to be his wife, she was his girlfriend then, and she knew what he did then. Her eyes landed on Angel and she pushed him forward, to create as much distance as possible.

But no distance would be too great to Angel.

His clock was ticking and even he knew that.

Their reputation preceded them, everyone in this small town spoke of them, whether it was out of fear, disdain, or awe, everyone in the town knew what they were capable of. Marvin had left town twelve years ago, Angel made sure he wouldn’t dare return and since he had, the consequences of his disregard to Angel’s warning would be paid in full.

“You know that guy?” Gilly questioned.

“That was Alena’s coach.” Coco was already around then, he knew this guy. “Are you going to take care of that?” Coco turned to Angel. 

“Yep.”

==========

The three Mayans came home and found Alena awake. Cruz was still napping and Alena was doing the laundry. 

Angel noticed that Alena was wiping her eyes and frowned. He walked over to her, softly calling out to her. “Cielo?” Alena didn’t answer, tilting his head, he noticed that she had her headphones on.

She looked up and wiped her eyes. “Hey! I didn’t hear you guys.” She took off her headphones. “Sorry, it was the confession part in my drama and I was just listening to it.” She laughed. Moving to the side she waved hello to Gilly and Coco who were bringing stuff in. “Are you guys staying for dinner? I’m making that baked ziti you guys like.”

“Fuck yes!” Coco called out as he walked out of the door to grab the rest of the bags.

“You spoil us Lenny.” Gilly added.

“Wait, no, it’s family dinner tonight. They can go fuck off.” Angel wiped her tears, reminding him of how she looked last night. He fucking hated seeing her cry. It didn’t even matter if it was some show that made her cry, he hated seeing it.

“I’m okay,” she moved her face away, picking up the basket of clothing she brought in from the garage. 

“Why do you keep pulling away from me?” Angel also hated it when Alena wouldn’t let him comfort her. He fucking got it, she was trying to get used to living without him, but tough shit, that wasn’t happening.

“I’m not, I don’t need you to wipe my tears, I’m fine.” She walked over to her room and just as he’s about to follow her, Coco stopped him. 

“What’s up?”

“They found him, he lives two streets over.” Coco showed him the text message from Riz. “What’s the plan?”

“We fucking kill him.”

“Kill who?” 

Angel and Coco turned to Alena who was holding the empty laundry basket. She eyed them curiously, unsure of what she walked into. Alena wasn’t obtuse and Angel told her everything. 

“We’re gonna kill Creeper, he’s being such a pain in the ass.” Angel chuckled, lying smoothly. “He fucked the order up for our work shirts.”

“Oh, I ordered it for him.”

Coco had to hold back a laugh along with Gilly as Angel scrambled to come up with an excuse.

“Did I say work shirt? Sorry baby, I meant some club shirts he ordered.” Angel felt like an idiot. How could he forget that Alena was the one who ordered their work shirts?

“No it’s okay, no big deal.” Alena laughed it off, slightly enjoying how freaked out Angel appeared. She went back to the garage leaving the three stooges behind.

“You couldn’t tell me she was behind me?”

“I didn’t fucking see her either with you blocking her.” Coco chuckled. “So we doing this tonight?”

“No point in prolonging it, I want him gone. He’s never going to touch my wife ever again.” Angel was quite pleased that Marvin had decided to show his face again. From what they gathered, he’s been back for months, thinking past grievances have been buried. But they haven’t. 

“Are you going to tell her?” Coco nodded his head towards the closed garage door.

“She wouldn’t want for us to kill him.” Angel sighed. He should tell Alena, but she didn’t need to know. She didn’t need this in her conscience. 

==========

Angel walked out of the clubhouse, the night time sky finally taking over. He didn’t want to prolong this since Alena and Cruz were waiting for him. They already had dinner, and made some excuse that Bishop needed them at the clubhouse to keep Alena from questioning anything. But she hardly ever did. She always waited till Angel was ready to tell her. He walked past EZ, not sparing his brother a glance. Coco and Gilly flanked his sides. Gilly unlocked the van slipping in the driver’s seat. Coco covered the license plate.

“Make sure you do this clean, burn their bodies on the other side.” Bishop advised. 

Angel nodded his head and slid in the passenger side. God bless technology and Riz being a whiz, they figured out that the two lived at a home two streets away from Alena and Angel’s home. The fact this mad has the audacity to move so close pissed off Angel. There were no cameras and if there were, they were cutting the power. 

It was close to one in the morning and Angel was going to make sure these two wastes would never see the light of day again. 

They arrived at the street, parking a block away. Before going inside, they slipped on their ski masks, kutte tucked in the van. Angel’s signature chains were missing so they wouldn’t be able to identify them. Coco and Gilly went to the back, cutting the electricity off. 

The two were still awake, so a shriek was heard due to Marvin’s wife freaking out. Angel knocked on the door, waiting for someone to open it. The door opened, it was Marvin. Angel immediately punched him on the face, and before his wife could let out another shriek, he shot her right in the head. The silencer muffled any sound and she dropped to the ground. Marvin wanted to scream upon seeing his wife’s lifeless body, but he expected this.

He didn’t want to move back, but Sheila became cocky, thinking that whatever happened all those years ago was forgotten, he knew better.

Angel locked the door as Marvin moved away from Angel.

“If you want money, I have twenty five thousand dollars in the safe upstairs.”

“Why the fuck would you keep twenty-five grand in your safe?” Coco wasn’t even sure why he would ask, but why would a coach stash that much fucking money at home?

“Or do you want the drugs? They’re in the safe too.”

“Drugs?” Gilly looked at Angel.

Whatever this man was saying was not registering. All he could think about was Alena’s confession and how this man threatened to hurt him, how he used to hurt her, and how he made her life miserable.

‘He told me to think of real Angel while he was touching me, that I would enjoy it more. I didn’t, and he would get mad and hit me.’

Angel took off his mask and Marvin immediately backed away further.

“Angel, man, I left when you asked me to leave.” Marvin was intimidated by Angel then all those years ago. For a nineteen year old, he had an intimidating presence that even rattled Marvin. He knew sexually assaulting Alena was wrong, but she was such a sweet innocent girl, he couldn’t help it. 

“So why did you come back?” Angel made his way over to him, Marvin hitting the wall behind him, he had no more escape. 

“Because I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Do you know that her father kicked her out of their home? Cause he couldn’t believe that you would ever do something so despicable to someone you’ve known since she was a child?” Angel looked menacing. Coco and Gilly cleaned up Sheila, leaving Angel knowing this was something he needed to do on his own. “Did you know that she hasn’t swam in years because every time she did, she would panic thinking of you? Did you know that she had a hard time being intimate since the only thing she could think about were the despicable actions you did to her?” Angel crouched down in front of him, placing the muzzle of his gun resting against Marvin’s head. “You told her to think of me when you touched her, cause it would feel good since you knew she liked me.”

“She loved you Angel.” Marvin’s tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood coming down from his nose. “I heard you were married, why does it matter what happened with Alena? You obviously got rid of her.”

Angel chuckled, leaning over so he was right beside his ear. “She’s my wife.” He growled out.

Marvin froze then. 

How could he be so stupid to think that Alena wasn’t his wife. He’s seen Alena around town, but he made sure that their paths never crossed, he knew once they did, he would be done for. Though he prayed that maybe Angel was no longer in Alena’s life since he was married. Unfortunately for him, he ran into Angel. He and Sheila were going to leave tomorrow and never look back. If he thought Angel looked menacing then, it was a whole nother level now. 

“Angel, listen, you want money? It’s yours. The drugs I have in the safe are worth at least ten grand. I’ll leave right now and never look back, just please, don’t kill me.” He couldn’t beg for Sheila’s life, but he could plead for his.

“When she pleaded for you to stop, did you stop?” Angel roughly grabbed his chin, pushing his head against the muzzle of his gun. 

Marvin sobbed harder, he knew he wouldn’t win this. Cause he didn’t stop, he would hit her or tell her to do it for Angel. 

“You didn’t right?” Angel let go of his chin, hitting him with the back of his gun. “Answer me motherfucker, did you fucking stop?”

“No, I didn’t.” He managed to sob out, sobs that increased when he heard Angel cock back his barrel. “Angel, I’m sorry, please, I can’t take back what I did, but if I could, I would.” His eyes drifted to Coco and Gilly who also had their guns out. “I apologize to her, I saw her a few years back, she was with her kid. She forgave me.” Well, maybe she didn’t and she looked frightened more than anything, but to him, he said his piece and he apologized. That counted for something. 

He remembered that, she called him frightened and was scared that Marvin would hurt Cruz. She thought she was being irrational, but he understood her fear and now, he further understood why she thought he would use Cruz against her.

She had nightmares for two weeks, screaming for Marvin to stop, she had to take some time off work. It was hell and Angel remembered how she wouldn’t tell him the extent of Marvin’s actions. He didn’t push her, he just held her.

He didn’t give a flying fuck if Marvin thought she forgave him. Angel didn’t, and even if she did that didn’t save his life.

Angel didn’t reply and stood up. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t end your life fucking sooner.” Before Marvin could even utter a reply, Angel unloaded his clip on him. He thought it would be satisfying, and it was, but it could never take back his actions towards Alena.

But at least he was preventing it from occurring again.

“You okay?” He heard Coco ask.

Coco and Gilly stood by, watching, hearing Marvin’s words. They felt for Alena and were glad that Angel took care of him.

“No, but I will be.”

==========

Alena woke up, rubbing her eyes. She fell asleep watching the Punisher. She was trying to make a mental note as to where she left off. She sat up and gasped when she saw the silhouette of a person sitting on her armchair. She quickly grabbed her glasses and found Angel sitting down. It was a deja vu moment when she found him sitting down, flipping his keys around after what occurred with EZ.

“Angel?” She called out. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“A few hours.” Angel came home and didn’t even undress. The dirt of the desert was still present on his clothing. When he entered their room, the Punisher was playing, with Alena sound asleep, her head on his pillow. He wasn’t even sure why he shed tears. It wasn’t for Marvin. It was for what occurred with Alena. He sighed. “Can you please come here?”

Alena followed his request, stopping a few feet away from him.

“Cielo, just please come closer, can I hold you?”

Alena was reluctant and her reluctance wounded Angel. But as quick as her reluctance appeared, she quickly sat on his lap, leaning back so her weight was more towards his knees.

“You know I’ll always protect you, right?” Angel placed a hand on her hip and another cupped her face.

She nodded her head. “Of course.” She placed her hand on top of the one that rested on her face. A few strands of his hair were on his forehead. She combed his hair back with her fingers, Angel’s eyes closing at the sensation.

“Do you trust me?” He opened his eyes.

“With my life.”

Angel pulled her against him, surprising Alena. He had his head buried at the crook of her neck, Alena wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect you all those years ago, but that’ll never happen again.”

“What are you talking about?” Alena was confused, but she continued to hold him.

“With your coach, I should have caught on when you stopped hugging me, when you flinched whenever I came close to you. When you began to wear clothing that covered your whole body during the summer.” Angel sighed, his warm breath against her skin.

“It’s okay, Angel. No one could have known. You’ve done so much for me, please don’t fret over me. I’m good, I can take care of myself.” Alena assured him.

“Stop pulling away from me. I know what you’re trying to do, trying to practice some crazy scenario where I’m no longer around, pulling away so it’ll hurt less. Stop it.” He sat back, his hands resting on her thighs, running them up and down. “I love you Alena, there’s never going to be a life where I don’t have you beside me. I get it, you’re trying to protect your heart, but please give me a chance.”

Alena didn’t know what to say. Angel has said I love you to her before, numerous times actually. But this felt different.

‘No, don’t be stupid. This is how you always fall back in. You can keep Angel in your life without any expectations from him.’

She leaned forward, crushing their lips together and Angel immediately responded. She rested her arms around the nape of his neck, moaning against his mouth as she felt Angel’s fingers graze the skin under her breast, his hand had slipped inside her shirt. She pulled away, placing kisses on his jawline down his neck. She bit down, making Angel groan and thrust up into her. Kissing him one more time, she palmed his growing erection making Angel moan out her name. They hadn’t been intimate like this for some time and Angel needed her.

“Sorry, I’m on my period.” She stood up, Angel’s mouth dropping open when he saw the devilish smirk on his sweet, innocent Alena. He turned her into this and he was so fucking proud.

“Oh baby, just wait till you’re done with your cycle.” He smacked her ass. “Or we can fuck in the shower, is it your first day?” Angel stood up, wrapping his arms around her from behind. 

He nibbles at her ear making Alena giggle. “It is, sorry.” She went to use the bathroom, walking back to the room, Angel was waiting outside.

“I gotta take a shower, want to join?”

Alena shook her head, kissed his cheek and went back to bed. Alena was half asleep when Angel joined her in bed, pulling her against him. 

“You never have to worry about that coach ever again cielo.” She felt his lips on her forehead, and as much as she wanted to ask for clarification, sleep took over.

==========

Alena filled out the form for the eye doctor. Angel sat beside her, playing candy crush on his phone. Alena didn’t want him to come, but Angel insisted since he didn’t want for her to go alone. Currently, Alena was on a two week break from work since Mr. Johnson attended one of his nieces’ wedding. Victor invited Alena, but she declined. 

“So, your cycle usually lasts 4 days?” Angel asked in a low tone.

She looked at him and that devilish smirk was ridiculous, but honestly sexy. “Yes, it’s my 3rd day though, so, sorry.” Alena has been teasing Angel. He literally woke up to her giving him a blowjob yesterday morning. He wasn’t complaining, but as soon as he offered to do something to her, she would swat his hand away and walk away, preparing Cruz for school. Today, he woke up to her giving him a hand job and there was just so much he could take without touching her.

Alena was driving him insane.

“Cielo, you keep teasing me, you know payback is a bitch right?” 

“Ssh,” Alena shushed him as she continued to fill out the form.

Angel just chuckled, going back to his game.

Alena gave the form and did a few tests before the Ophthalmologist saw her. Alena really didn’t want Angel to go since her Ophthalmologist, Dr. Wu was kind of cute. It was definitely nice eye candy to have. 

When they called her to the back, Alena somehow convinced Angel to just stay behind. She was led to one of the examination rooms and thanked the assistant Maggie.

“Your husband is quite good looking.” Maggie commented making Alena laugh. Her eye doctor was in another town, so they weren’t exactly familiar with the Mayans.

“Thanks Maggie.” 

Alena sat down on the chair, waiting for Dr. Wu to arrive. Once he did, Alena sat up straight and smiled. He was a good looking man, who was kind and had a really nice smile. His hair was short in length, slightly spiked up on the front ends.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite patient, how are you Alena?” Dr. Wu walked in with her file.

Alena blushed. “Good, but we both know your favorite is my mother.”

“Not true, though I do tell your mother she’s my favorite so she won’t hurt me.” Dr. Wu was a family friend. Prior to her father leaving, she saw Nick often. They eventually lost touch and recently reconnected a few years back.

Alena laughed at that. “And I don’t blame you. My mother is quite intimidating.”

Angel was busy playing his game, wondering if Alena always took this long to finish with her eye appointment. It’s been thirty minutes and he was certain it didn’t take this long. The door opened and when he looked up, his brows furrowed. Alena walked out, eyes trained on the man with her. The waiting room was empty since it was lunch time and she was the last patient they took before closing for lunch. He gave her a bag and smiled down at her. Before Angel could even register what was going on, the doctor hugged Alena, a little too long for his liking and pulled away.

Now he knew why she wanted him to stay behind.

It was Nick Wu, her old childhood friend that he saw her with from time to time when he picked her up. He never introduced himself, and Nick never bothered either.

“It was nice seeing you again, you should definitely come to my parents’ wedding anniversary. Your mom and brother are going. And if it makes you feel more at ease, your father isn’t invited.” Nick wasn’t an idiot and knew what occurred with their family. 

“I’ll let you know, thanks again Dr. Wu.” Alena beamed up at him.

“Lena, you can call me Nick. It’s not like we haven’t known one another.”

“You ready to go babe?” Angel cut in, wrapping an arm around Alena’s shoulders. He looked at this doctor and smirked. “I’m Angel, Alena’s husband.” He stuck his hand out. 

“Nick, pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard great things about you.” He shook his hand. And he has, Alena’s mother always gushed about Angel and Alena has mentioned him a few times. 

“Wish I could say the same about you.” 

“I’ll see you, bye Nick.” She wrapped an arm around Angel and pulled him away from the office. 

Once they exited, Angel didn’t let her go until they got to her car. He opened the door for her and she slid in, placing her purse on the floor. Angel slid in at the driver’s side, turning the car on.

“What was that?” Angel turned to look over at Alena. 

“Hmm?” 

“Is that why you prefer to go alone? Cause it’s Nick?” Angel was jealous, he could admit that. Alena always preferred going to her eye doctor alone and now it made sense.

“Angel, he’s like an old family friend.” Alena explained.

“That I’ve never met.”

“Yes, it happens. Nick never came to Santo Padre.” Alena replied. “And you’ve met him, well sort of, when you used to pick me up from school.”

Angel narrowed his eyes. “Is he married?”

“No, he’s single I believe.” Alena wasn’t exactly sure since she never actually asked Nick. “I’m not sure, I don’t really ask him.”

“Is he one of the people your mother had lined up for you?”

“I don’t know? What’s with all the questions?” Alena smiles teasingly. “Are you jealous?”

“Alena, what kind of a fucking question is that? Of course I am. I didn’t even fucking know he was still a part of your life.” He didn’t like Nick then, he still didn’t now. Angel was unreasonable, but he always liked being number one in Alena’s life. Nick came close to replacing him and he could never forget that.

“Angel, he’s just an old family friend. Don’t worry about him.” Alena didn’t want Angel to be upset over nothing. She didn’t like Nick in that way. He was good looking, but she wouldn’t want to be with someone who had such a close connection to her father. And she also never saw him in that way. She admired him, but it just stayed there.

Angel didn’t reply and drove off. It’s not like he didn’t trust Alena, but it was crazy how he was more aware of all the men he could have lost Alena too. 

The rest of the day went off without a hitch, he just had a small run with the club and he went with Alena to her eye appointment. She got new glasses, so he was glad they went today. He was still thinking about that doctor. He didn’t think Alena was cheating on him, but it just made him uneasy. Were there other men that Alena didn’t tell him about? Alena was also oblivious to men hitting on her unless it was very straightforward.

“Angel?” He looked over at Alena who was standing at the end of the couch where his feet were. He was relaxing here since he wanted to watch television and not bother Alena. And he also might be upset at her little display at the doctor’s office.

“Cielo, you okay?” Angel grimaced seeing the tears in Alena’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you just hold me? If you don’t want to, it’s okay,” Alena approached him, frowning at how small she felt. She hated reliving that assault with her former coach. “Never mind, sorry.”

Angel grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. Alena laid on top of him, wrapping her arms around Angel. 

”I got you, I always do.” He never knew he would miss holding her as much as he did, but he truly missed her. He kissed her forehead, running his fingers through her hair.

“Thank you.”

“You want to go out to brunch tomorrow?”

“With Cruz?”

“No baby, just you and me.”

“Sure.” He could hear Alena fading and he felt himself fading.

This was all he wanted in his life, to have Alena in his arms. 

[ronnytherandom]

I forgot to watch content all week so i wrote about games ive been playing

9/2/2021: The Truman Show

You should fear your fears but embrace them and use them to guide you into the unknown, to explore and experience what life has to offer. Fear stands between you and the fullest experience of life so you must pass through it to better yourself. Heed not the walls built about you and the chains made to hold you. Though the architects insist it will preserve your life, containment is anathema to life. Do not take in faith the benevolence of powers that be; instead trust those who would support and liberate you, guide you through fear and into life.

As best I can lay it out, I think this is the philosophy of the Truman show but there is so much more to read into it also. There is critique of systems of commodification and celebrity (i.e. capitalism) reducing human beings to a consumable good as well as encouragement to find and pursue your goals despite adversity and even sensibility which is also tied to the illusion of economic responsibility. You can’t put a camera inside a human head, you can never “know” them without being an active and intrinsic part of their life, but also there is need for reciprocation. If one half exists with ulterior motive then the entire relationship is rotten; sincere humanity is what creates real connections. Without such your world is fake. A world built around one person is a world where no one can truly live. All these actors have given up basically their entire lives for the sake of watching Truman have his life built around him by outside forces, have allowed themselves to be commodified and dehumanised for the good of one man, Christoph. The man at the top has delusions of grandeur and thinks only of his own bottom line, he cares not for his subjects but simply wants them to do as he tells them because it benefits him to commodify their lives and interactions. Even then he cannot stand to lose control and in seeking to demonstrate Truman’s “realness” he structures his life so thoroughly that eventually there’s no reality left, only a script and adverts. But the people watching still empathise with Truman because everyone in the working class understands what it is to be trapped because real life is our own Truman show and one day we must all pass through fear, step out of the dome and create a real life for ourselves outside of the system of commodification which consumes everyone’s life and removes all realness and sincerity and emotional catharsis from it.

I unreservedly love this film.

14/2/2021: Assorted Game Reviews

Horizon Zero Dawn (Unfinished due to technical issues, 45 hours inc. parts of Frozen Wilds): This game is really cool and really fun. I think it is defined by its incredible setting which somehow creates a fresh feeling post-apocalyptic environment. Said environment creates intriguing alt-future lore and some very interesting environments to explore. I love the machine designs (especially tallnecks!) and was very sad to hear one of their contributing artists passed away recently but I’m glad their work lives on in this visually stunning game. I’m a sucker for Ubisoft-style open world games simply because it tickles a certain kind of itch and somehow this non-Ubisoft game has outdone Ubisoft on their own formula, which is hilarious, but also good for me as running around this world exploring and clearing map markers is engaging fun. Not least because of the combat. I have a minor criticism here that the combat feels slightly awkward on mouse and keyboard, the arrows never seem to go where I’m aiming, but aside from that the experience of fighting is a grand one. Enemies never lose their threat and I love the weak spot system the game employs which makes every tool useful in niche circumstance and rewards curiosity. It specifically manages this in a way that I feel the Witcher series could learn from if it ever returns; by making head on assault less viable and encouraging tactical hunting. I do feel this system makes hunting robots so fun that by contrast hunting humans becomes a chore however, though I noted this improves in the dlc with the addition of humans with elemental weaknesses limited in number as they are. I cannot speak for the story in entirety but what I encountered was pretty good, though I feel as if it was only just really getting going at the point where I could not continue. I find Aloy to be a compelling and well portrayed protagonist and though I can guess about her origin and the ultimate end of the alt-future apocalypse I still want to see how it plays out on screen, so will return to this as soon as I’ve fixed it.

Rimworld (122 hours. Familiar with but do not own Royalty Expansion):

Rimworld is one of those super special games that I don’t think I have a single problem with. Fair warning it can be brutal and is heavily dependent on RNG but this allows it to create truly unique and interesting scenarios on a constant basis. In the wider perspective it could be described as formulaic, with regular cycles of managing the settlement between raids and random events, but the devils in the details. Colonist traits, health and skills dictate how you play and sometimes you’ll be forced to adapt as some colonists simply refuse to perform some tasks. The depth of health particularly amuses me, in that each little part of someone’s body is modelled in a way. If you’re in a firefight you may take a single bullet which grazes your finger and you’re fine. Alternately it could pierce your human leather cowboy hat, your skull and kill you instantly and the game will tell you exactly what happened. The risk/reward element is addictive enough, and that’s without accounting for just how cool it is to see your colony slowly expand. Establishing more and more options for crafting is fun and shows off the full range of different items in the game which is fucking extensive. Between clothing, weapons, armour, sculpture and drugs to name only a few you have the opportunity to create many varied production lines either for your colonists or to trade for money and there is a lot of fun to be had here as well as it is quite satisfying to see psychoid you have grown personally become the cocaine your colonists snort to help them stay awake on limited sleep. From an archaeologist’s perspective it is especially cool to look back over your base and see the hints of how and why structures were built and remember the history of your limitations and development through structure. I think the lore of the universe is really cool too, a very 40k-esque kind of place except with far less order, somehow. But the universe does an excellent job of feeling alive and moving constantly on both a planetary and interstellar level. You can fully believe that while you build wooden shacks to shield yourself from terrifyingly low temperatures there are simultaneously rich pieces of shit living it up on the glitterworld that’s one system over. The music does an excellent job of creating the wild west frontier atmosphere the game cultivates to great effect. Ultimately, for just being a grid with a series of different numbers attached, this game does a fantastic job of creating a compelling, brutal and very real colony management experience. I dont think I can properly put into words the grandness and scope of this one. I didnt even mention the modding scene, which is expansive and tailors to basically any need you could have. The Rim is a terrifying place but theres so much fun to be had.

Factorio (86 hours, mostly 1.1): Having completed a game of Factorio I can tell you reliably that this is one of the best games ever made, thoroughly addictive and fun. If you like numbers, logistics, TRAINS, its gonna be your thing. Not to mention its probably the only documented case of a game with no bugs (so far as official forums are concerned). Strictly speaking this games combat is not the most engrossing thing but good lord do you feel it when you acquire a flamethrower. The way each aspect of the game (production, research, logistics, combat, upgrades for everything therein) feeds into the next is a really well constructed balancing act such that you must experience the full game in order to complete it and I always appreciate this kind of design. I think its one of the best tenets of factory game design especially as its something present in Satisfactory too. Beyond all of this generalised good the game is also excellent in its intricacies, the architecture necessary to build a maximum efficiency base, the level of planning and organisation that can be employed is mind-blowing. Not to mention the mod community, factorion is already an extensive experience and some mad bastards have seen fit to complicate it further, hats off to them. This really is a great moment in gaming.

 Destiny 2 (198 hours, all expansions, played some post Forsaken release, mostly Season of Arrivals onwards, spent roughly £20 on microtransactions):

This is a very interesting and enjoyable experience, but I must say it can be a bit controversial at times. What its does particularly well is moment to moment gameplay and design in all aspects. The game is stunning; between environments, cosmetics, shaders ships and ghosts there’s a vast range of incredible things to see, all rooted in the “pseudo-magi-science” aesthetic it’s got going on. The class design is excellent and you really do feel like you embody this rampaging madman / agile gunman / space wizard archetype, whichever you choose to play. The abilities, especially supers, are very satisfying. Everything has heft and power behind it which can be felt in all aspects of design; sound and animation is top notch. Movement is cool, you can feel how fast you move both on foot and in vehicles and the navigation has a little fun subtlety depending on your class jump, even if you can bounce unpredictably occasionally. But for the love of god why is the wall kick in there? It has only ever served to push me from a ledge into a bottomless pit. You're looking to remove antiquated content? Start there. Some guns are not so good to shoot but there’s such a great range of guns that are fun its like complaining about one drop in an ocean; and enemies are fun to shoot at, each faction distinct in meaningful ways and presenting an effective challenge. Speaking of oceans, that’s one way to describe the lore. I haven’t dived too deep but it keeps going down forever and everything I’ve read is intriguing. As a former Elder Scrolls lore nut this is something I could definitely sink my teeth into, though its much more of a pulpy sci-fi vibe than a pure nonsense vibe. I do think the game has a bit of a loot problem, primarily in regards to the conflict between high stats and looking good. This should never be a conflict, and yes you can apply ornaments to any purple gear but that’s not enough when I spend the entire time grinding power levels and thus must change armour and weapons on a constant basis to progress. This game needs a true transmog system and if not that, rethink how gear power level works. Perhaps rather than earning new instances of gear you always possess a version of it and the loot you acquire in missions just upgrades your instance to your current overall power level? This would serve to do away with the current upgrade system which I think is a needless additional grind. Perhaps it could be retained in using enhancement cores to empower gear as present but necessitating a whole upgrade module to keep your favourite weapon on hand is kind of painful honestly. There is also at present the issue of sunsetting gear, mildly controversial to say the least. If it’s necessary to streamline the game and make it function moving forward so be it but surely loot pools should be adjusted so you can actually get useful loot from older locations? And why sunset personal instances of gear which can be acquired at the regular power level anyway? I had to throw away my favourite bow and hunt down a new version of the exact same weapon for… what reason? I do think destination navigation leaves a little to be desired also. I get that having a physical hub world is meaningful but Destiny does not have a very extroverted community; I can count the times someone noticed me in the tower on one hand. And its not even like there’s fun activities to be found in the same sense as say Deep Rock Galactic, which really does take advantage of its hub. Perhaps for players who simply want to go about their business all of the vendors could be set into a menu system where just clicking an icon takes you to their menu from anywhere in the system rather than, per se, having to go through an entire loading screen (Which takes you to orbit and back) to reach a location which serves simply as the front for four menus. These are established player problems. As a dedicated PvE player I can say that this game is immensely fun in combat and growing in power does feel really good. It’s something I recommend getting into, there’s just some very large creases that need ironing which the Bungie should really take the time to address rather than pushing out new in game content every three months.

[ladyluscinia]

Though, actually, technically, construction documents ARE generally public record on projects that have entered construction due to being filed for permit. Unfortunately, I do not know how this may apply to government projects that could have confidentiality stuff that my boss signed but idk what's up with it??? And I can't ask on account of the whole boss stressing me out so much I'm quitting soon. Like I feel like I should anonymize at least some degree but also I will look really fucking unsure of shit if I overdo it.

I thought I was ready to send out job applications and then ran face first into the realization that at 5+ years of experience I need to show SOME examples of my professional work in a pdf or something because they are going to expect that attached with the resume

[orbitluke]

Birdie - Robin Buckley

Birdie – R.B

Robin Buckley x Reader

A/N: I haven’t written in so long, so apologies for any grammatical errors. I appreciate any feedback and I hope you enjoy :)

Word Count: 2688

Warnings: Angst? 

Summary: Robin has been too scared to let her feelings for the Reader be known and she’s terrified she might have left it too late.

Italics indicate a flashback.

 _________

Robin had sprawled out along the couch in the backroom of home video, making herself comfy as she watched you idly from across the room. You were sat with your back to her, legs crossed on the small chair, surrounded by a bunch of sheets. She watched with curiosity, as you shuffle a few documents, eyes drifting along each paper thoroughly to make sure everything you had written made sense. She couldn’t help her lips quirk up as you let out a frustrated sigh before picking up your pencil, taking the opposite end and dragging it roughly across the page, so you could amend your mistake. She noticed how the flimsy table you were stationed at shook slightly due to your movements, bits of rubber flying off the sides. Your lips were pressed in a fine line and brows furrowed in confusion as you read over the last few lines once more. Robin could see your shoulders visibly relaxing as you placed your pencil beside the various sheets of paper in a moment of relief as you finally finished.

It seemed Keith had given you the task to reorganise next month’s work schedule, to which you insisted you definitely weren’t certified to do so, however, he claimed it didn’t matter as long he had something decent by Monday, persisting he would do it but, he had to leave for a ‘family emergency’ and would have no time over the weekend to do so. He left with the promise he’d let you have next Friday off if you stayed behind to get it done. Robin scoffed at this, insisting that this ‘emergency’ probably entailed Keith and the pile of movies she saw him check out earlier. However, since he was technically store manager you couldn’t really dispute the matter.

“I can’t believe Keith is making you do that shit,” Robin spoke, alerting you she was no longer napping after the 12-hour shift she had just done. Typically she wouldn’t be so affected by it, but she had informed you earlier, that last night she and some pretty girl went to a concert somewhere near Illinois, resulting in her getting home at 7 AM, a mere 2 hours before her shift started.

She sat up straight, twisting her body either side trying to get rid of the kinks that had formed in her lower back. She glanced at the clock, realising it was now 9:56 PM and her shift had ended a little over an hour ago. She could’ve easily gone home straight after her shift, but felt bad that Keith had left you to lock up and sort out the schedule, therefore, decided she would keep you company whilst you finished up, however, as soon as her body hit the couch she could feel sleep consuming her.

“Hey birdie, enjoy your nap?” You asked, twisting your body to face her, your arm hanging lazily over the top of the chair.

Robin’s heart soared at the use of the nickname you had given her a while back after the two of you got far too drunk at Tammy Thompson’s house party and ended up pressed against each other in Tammy’s bath, legs dangling over the sides as you drunkenly laughed and reminisced over your friendship together.

**

“I still can’t believe you punched Joshua McKenna in the nose in 4th grade for saying my Wonder Woman T-shirt sucked.” You laughed, letting out a little snort, as your head lay against Robin’s shoulder.

Robin’s heart was pounding at your close proximity. She could feel every movement you made, the way your shoulders shook as you laughed and she could swear she felt you move closer to her, your left hand coming up from your side and interlocking with hers.

“McKenna was a dick. Still is,” She remarked, “And his taste in superheroes? Whack!” Robin exclaimed, gesturing wildly with her right hand, forgetting that your hands were interlaced, therefore, causing your whole body to move with her, and heat rise to her face in embarrassment.

“Sorry.” She murmured, moving her hand away from yours and into her lap. She glanced at you for a small second, admiring the way your eyes gleamed even in the dull lighting of the bathroom. She noticed you now had the side of your head pressed against the cool tile wall, staring at her with a glazed look in your eyes.

You were both still extremely drunk.

“What for birdie?” You whispered, leaning forward until your foreheads were pressed together. Robin felt like she was about to combust, her heart moments, if not seconds away from exploding. You let a melodious laugh, your eyes flickering between Robin’s eyes and lips.

This had to be the alcohol speaking, Robin thought, too terrified to think what this meant if it wasn’t.

Slowly, Robin leaned in, a breath away from your lips. Her eyes closed, trying to take this all in, however, a moment of clarity made her reconsider.

“Birdie?” Robin questioned, moving back, letting out an awkward laugh and shaking her head slightly at your remark in an attempt to ease whatever tension seemed to have built-up between the two of you. Robin looked back at you and she could swear she saw hurt flash across your face, but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

“Yeah, Birdie!” You laughed lightly, scrunching your face in embarrassment, too afraid to meet her gaze. “Robin is a type bird, therefore, you are my little birdie.” You smiled softly, finally looking up at her.

Before Robin had the chance to even process what had happened, loud banging filled the small room, accompanied by someone asking if the bathroom was vacant.

Almost relieved by the presence of someone else, you yelled back that you’d be just a moment, before clumsily pushing yourself out of the tub and gesturing for her to take your hand so she could also get up.

Robin walked in front of you, letting go of your hand. Your heart faltering at the lack of touch. Robin opened the bathroom door to reveal none other than Joshua McKenna causing the two of you to let out a bright laugh and stumble out of the room, leaving the boy confused, but Robin was somewhat relieved that you were able to leave behind whatever tension had come between the two.

 **

“I’m not even going to be here next month, so I’m literally writing myself out of the schedule.” You groaned, snapping Robin out of her thoughts, as you scoot your chair around to face her. She was finally sitting up straight, hugging her knees to her chest with her head propped between them, hair a little unruly from her nap.

Her heart dropped a little as you brought up the fact you were leaving. Soon to be a freshman in college, meeting new people, whilst she had yet another year of High School left before she had a taste of freedom.

“I gave Keith the late Wednesday shift, so you no longer have to deal with Mrs Jameson.” You mused, remembering how Robin was laid on your bed one weekend, ranting about this older woman who seemed to come in every Wednesday just before closing. She would rent the same movie, but not before gossiping about her sister’s promiscuity and because Robin was far too polite to dismiss her, this caused Robin to lock up long after her shift was supposed to end.

 **

“Perhaps she has a thing for you.” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows. “I mean Steve said she came in asking for you last week. Seemed that she only wanted to you to ring her up.” You continued, causing Robin to press her face into your pillow and let out a disgusted groan.

“She’s old enough to be my mother.” Robin shrieked, however, you couldn’t help notice the blush that stained her cheeks.

“Never stopped anyone before.” You quipped, moving from your spot on the floor where you were busy folding laundry and flopped down beside Robin. “I mean I’m pretty sure Billy has a thing for Mrs Wheeler.”

“Yeah but that’s Mrs Wheeler,” Robin laughed, lifting her face from your pillow. You looked at her in shock.

“What? She’s hot.” Robin defended, rolling on to her side so she could look at you properly. “Like really hot.”

“Not as hot as me though, right?” You half-joked, a part of you a little jealous at Robin’s revelation regarding Mrs Wheeler’s hotness, but nevertheless quickly changing the conversation by announcing that you needed to shower, so she could happily help herself to your Walkman or your selection of comics that laid on your bedside table. But as soon as you got up from your bed and made your way into your bathroom, Robin whispered to herself, “Defiantly not.” with a smile tainting her lips as she was undoubtedly infatuated by you. 

**

You realised Robin wasn’t paying attention, instead, she seemed to be in a world of her own, whilst picking at her nails, a habit that formed whenever she became nervous.

“Hey birdie, you good?” You questioned, your eyes softening as she met your gaze.

“I’m going to miss you.” Her voice faltering as an overwhelming feeling of sadness consumed her, causing her eyes to become shadowy with unshed tears.

“What do you mean B?” You inquired, placing your hand on her knee as a form of comfort, however, the mere touch of your hand seemed to heat her whole body, awakening something inside of her.

“Fuck.” Robin shifted in her seat, now sitting with her legs crossed, but your hand remained still.

“You’re going away to college and leaving me.” She half smiled, wiping the palm of her hand under her eyes in an attempt to stop any tears from falling. She clasped her other hand around yours loosely, mindlessly playing with your fingertips.

“You still have Steve.” You responded, hoping to lighten the mood. Robin rolled her eyes, trying to feign amusement, but you knew deep down she felt just as deflated as you did.

The idea of leaving Robin was gut-wrenching. Not being able to see her every day was a foreign concept to you. She was an integral part of your life, often coming over late at night, shimming up the tree adjacent from your bedroom window just so you had someone to help lull you to sleep and bring you comfort when things weren’t going well, but now you were going to University a few states away and this would no longer be possible. You would no longer see her face every day as you walked into Home Video with two coffee’s clasp in your hand to help get you both through the early morning shifts. Her sarcastic jokes and quarrels with Steve would now just be a memory.

“What about that about the girl you went to the concert with,” You continued, your words becoming weak with every breath. “Angelia was it? She seems nice.”

Lies. You could feel bile rising in your throat at the thought of Robin with another girl. When she first told you about her, you responded politely, trying not to show your lack of delight for this unknown girl, but when she told you that she was technically the reason for her lack of sleep the night before, you realised this was it. You no longer had a chance and she was obviously into this girl.

Pausing momentarily, Robin then whispered,

“Yeah, but she’s not you.”

Robin hated how desperate she sounded, close to tears just because the girl she loved would longer going to live a few streets over, but instead in a whole new state where she could easily find people to replace her. Selfishly she wished you had chosen a University close by so it was easier for her to see you, but Robin knew how much you longed to leave Hawkins. This small town wasn’t made for people like you, an open mind that needed to thrive with others similar, not constraint to a town so lifeless. Going to New York seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity, especially after working so hard to be granted a scholarship. 

Realistically Robin knew that you going to college didn’t mean the end of your friendship. She could phone you, even commute, but something felt so wrong about letting you leave town without telling you how she truly felt.

“We can still see each other right? I’ll be home during break and you and Steve can get the train there whenever you like. I’m not gonna forget you Birdie, you’re my best friend.”

 “That’s it though.” Robin paused, letting out a bitter laugh. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

“I’m only going to University Robin.” You spoke defensively, your mind racing as you moved from your chair to the seat beside Robin on the couch.

It almost felt foreign hearing you call her by her actual name, so used to the way your lips formed her nickname.

 “I’m in love you Y/N/N.” 

 Robin’s heart was pounding as you let out a bellowing laugh. Instantly filling with dread. She swore she could feel her heart shattering. This was it, you were rejecting her and any chance of salvaging a friendship had been destroyed by her declaration of love.

“Robin,” She looked up to meet your gaze. The silence that had consumed the break room was defending. Apart of her wanted to make a break for it, take her bike and ride as far away from Hawkins as she could.

Taking a breath, you tightened your grip around Robin’s hand, pulling her closer until you were only inches away and spoke slowly with utter confidence.

“I love you too. I have done for so long and the idea of not being able to see you every day hurts.” You let out a soft cry. “Fuck B, I thought you really didn’t want to friends for a sec. I don’t want to be without you.”

Breathlessly, you leaned forward so your foreheads were touching, much like when you were both drunk in Tammy Thompson’s bathroom, except there was no sense of reluctance. Robin emitted a small chuckle, her heart leaping at your confession. Finally, Robin gained the courage to lean in and press a kiss against your lips, melting at your touch as you moved in sync with one another, emotion filling you both with warmth. You moved your hands from Robin’s grasp and wrapped your arms around her neck pulling her closer to you. Your chests were now touching as you eagerly tried to keep up with one another, a small moan slipping past her lips as you attempted to make up for the lost time. Her lips fit perfectly against yours, moving in unison until you both pulled apart breathlessly, forehead pressed together with relief and a new sense of giddiness flooding you both. 

 “I wanted to do that for so long.” You exasperated, moving back slightly so you could take her all in.

 “So have I.” Robin replied, lifting her thumb to stroke your cheek gently.

 “What about Angelica.” You questioned, suddenly coming to the realisation that there was perhaps someone out there that would make this proclamation of love pointless.

“There’s nothing to say about Angelia,” Robin spoke. “I only agreed to go out with her to make you jealous.”

You gasped at her words in amusement, relief flooding you.

“Can’t say I feel bad for her though. She ended up abandoning me for some red-headed chick. All I could think about was you.” Robin mused, leaning in close so you could feel her smile against your lips.

“Really?” You questioned. Robin nodded, kind of embarrassed by this confession.

You leaned in once more, pressing a rotation of kisses on either of her cheeks and finally closing the gap between your lips.

“I really do love you Birdie. We can make this work” 

[irene-sadler]

Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

1. my usual due diligence b/c some deeply programmed part of my brain can't not cite my sources::

are you interested in reading some secondary source material about the civic government of a medieval city?* or a primary source document listing the personal expenses of Henry VIII between 1529-1532, a line item of which i copied and modified for this chapter? well now u can i guess, go for it.

 *(there's like no easily accessible canon info about what Rivia (the city, not the kingdom or the castle) is like, but after some side reading about other medieval cities it seemed like it should be roughly the size of York vs the size of London or Paris, which were the capitols of much more important kingdoms to irl western Europe than Lyria and Rivia seem to have been to northern Fake Europe. i mean, before Meve more or less single handedly fucked up an entire invasion force and yeeted herself into international fame obviously.)

2. i posted a short scene i cut from this chapter here. 

 ---- 

  7.

    In the days leading up to the fair, a veritable army of men in armor descended on the castle and town surrounding it, spending a mint of money and tearing up the grass of the green outside the wall with ceaseless practices and a few very real fights. The Baroness, who had graciously accepted the Queen’s invitation, became a semi-permanent fixture beside the hastily erected fence surrounding the field. Despite the cold, she spent the short daylight hours observing and offering opinions and guidance. Gascon arrived with a retinue of familiar-looking rogues that drew a dark frown from Reynard and threw himself happily into the endless clashes. The Baroness watched him for most of an afternoon, then in the evening delivered a detailed lecture indicating how and where his technique could be improved, which he cheerily took to heart. The result, according to his tutor, was that he progressed, somewhat, from a reasonable amateur to something like a professional.

     Meve managed to keep her company often enough to hear many of her opinions. She noted bad habits and technical errors in almost all of Meve’s serving knights, with few exceptions; of Sir Odo, she only remarked casually that he yet showed no sign of losing a step, age or prior injuries be damned. She made the unusually enthusiastic comment within earshot of its subject as he offered advice to a young knight he’d unseated; he appeared slightly surprised and rode over, eyebrows raised.

    “Was that a compliment, my lady?” he asked, looming over the two women where they stood by the fence.

    “Would you like it to be?” the Baroness replied, giving no sign either way.

    “Why not?” he said, matching her tone, bowed courteously in his saddle, slammed his visor down, and rode away. Meve stared distractedly after him.

    “He’ll be an early contender for the prize, I believe,” the Baroness remarked.

    “Well, he’s certainly my favorite,” she replied, airily.

    “And doesn’t he know it,” the older woman muttered, then added, “That man has a target on his back.”

    Meve returned to earth and turned an inquiring frown on her.

    “Look,” the older woman explained, waving a hand to indicate the field at large. “There’s not less than two dozen knights here, and squires besides, as well as more than a few fighters who are neither. Some are no doubt here for the prizes, and some for th’ entertainment value, and others to catch a woman’s eye, but, no matter what their reasons, every man among them would very much like to defeat the Queen���s champion, make no mistake.”      

    The Baroness paused significantly, clearly waiting for her to see a point. Meve, aware that even Reynard lost a match, on occasion, failed to arrive at whatever it was; she shrugged dismissively and said, “Yes, and?”

    “And, therefore, don’t leave his equipment unguarded overnight, or his horse,” she explained impatiently, with a slight eye roll; she added, as an afterthought, “Your Grace.”

    “Oh.”

      After dinner she stared contemplatively into the fire, paying no attention to Reynard and Gascon’s idle chatter nearby. The Baroness’s suggestion - or was it a warning? - weighed on her thoughts. So did the fact that she had yet to find a third judge; a difficult prospect, as whoever she picked might not suit, or, worse, might be inclined to see political significance where there was none. Further, she hadn’t seen the black knight, or even heard anything of him, in well over a week; it was arguably the least of her problems, but bothered her nevertheless. She was jolted out of her reverie only when Reynard shook her suddenly by the shoulder; she frowned distractedly at him, realized he had asked her something, and said, “What?”

    “What are you thinking about?” he repeated, patiently. Gascon stared glassily at her, an expectant smile on his face. She explained about the judge, in brief, expecting their conversation to then go on without concerning itself with the matter.

    “But why d’ you need three judges?” Gascon wondered, instead, slurring his words somewhat.

    “Because there are always three judges,” Reynard replied stiffly, evidently less than perfectly sober himself.

    “The third judge is necessary, I’m afraid,” Meve explained. “A tiebreaker.”

    “Oh,” said Gascon, “I see. Well, what I would do is just get Gaspar or someone t’ do it, and say good enough; I suppose it doesn’t truly matter who does the job, in th’ end.”

    “The joust is serious business,” Reynard said, growing somewhat haughty, “You can’t just appoint some ruffian who can’t talk as an official.”

    “No,” Meve said, soothingly, before Gascon could react, “I don’t think he would do, at all, not to worry. However, Gascon’s drunken rambling has given me a thought - I don’t really have to choose the third judge myself.”

    “What do you mean by that?” Reynard asked, suspiciously.

    “Never you mind,” she said, casually, “You’ll find out soon enough. Anyway - I meant to ask you, Gascon, for a favor.”

    “By all means,” he replied, cheerily.

     “I need you to assign some of your more reliable and sober men to keep an eye on Reynard’s harness, weapons, and above all his horse, until the fair.”

    “Why?” Reynard asked; Meve ignored him, temporarily. Gascon, on the other hand, seemed to immediately understand, and nodded his agreement.

    “Oh, yes, naturally, you do,” he said. “I’ll put my best people on it, not t’ worry.”

    “Thank you,” she said, and then explained herself to Reynard after Gascon departed to see to the matter. He frowned doubtfully and began, “I really don’t think it’s necessary to -”

    “I know you don’t,” she interrupted, a little curtly, “It’s why I didn’t ask you.”

    He fell into a slightly disgruntled silence, obviously offended; she immediately regretted her tone, blamed it on the late hour, and delivered a genuine apology, which he graciously accepted, as he always did.

      At ten the next morning, she attended a meeting with the bailiff, aldermen, and Mayor of the city outside her castle walls. The Mayor was an ancient man who’d been installed in his position some years before she was born, and would not be hurried as he explained, at length, the procedures and trials of the next few days. She half-listened to his speech, delivered in the same didactic voice as always, and to the discourse that followed, well aware of the various topics that would be covered, as they were exactly the same each year for each fair - roadblocks, fire brigades, the necessity to have extra guards at night, the necessity to have yet further guards to keep the visitors out of the stockyard and away from the docks, the vanishingly small probability of snow. The Queen sat, patiently chiming in on the usual occasions to promise a detachment of soldiers from the castle and to offer the use of the stables in the courtyard, if needed, but otherwise waiting in silence for the meeting to wind to a close. There was, she knew from experience, no speeding up the unvarying process, and it was easiest to try; at the end, however, when the Mayor, as always, asked for any final remarks, she said, “I’ve one, gentlemen.”

    The room turned as one to stare at her in collective astonishment; she had never shown the slightest desire to lengthen any meeting in the past, and the atmosphere grew wary and uncertain at the irregularity. She smiled at them, professionally, and continued, “I have a small request only: the jousting event that’s bringing you so much custom this year requires three judges, but I find myself with only two; I thought perhaps you could select the last yourselves and then send ‘em along to the castle this afternoon.”

    She was assured that the thing was in their power to grant and departed in secret amusement, leaving the disturbed city government in full knowledge that, so long as she ruled in Lyria and Rivia, the troubling moment would never be forgotten.

      The city council sent along their choice - a round, dark-haired young woman - some hours later. She received a very dubious look from Reynard when Ethan brought her into his little office, where he sat in consultation with the Queen. Her name was Giselle, she said, and she knew nothing whatsoever about jousting - although, of course, she’d seen many a brawl, because she was a barmaid at the largest public house in the town square; she was just lately seventeen, but had been employed there since she was ten, and fights were expected and even wagered on should the combatants be interesting enough. Meve was, for once, grateful for Reynard’s unyielding sense of propriety; he grew steadily more unapproachable, but said absolutely nothing as the girl finished her introduction and subsided into silence, casting an uneasy glance at his remote frown.

    “Well,” Meve said, pleasantly, “It’s no matter; the finer details of the sport are easy enough to learn. I’m not going to force you, if you’d rather not, but should you like to be a judge tomorrow along with myself and the Baroness, you’re quite welcome.”

    Giselle’s face lit up; she replied quickly, “Oh, yes, I’d love to, my lady.” Meve nodded, satisfied.

    “Well, then, Ethan there will explain the rules and answer any questions you have; you may go along with him,” she said. Ethan promptly turned a brilliant shade of red as Giselle turned a broad smile on him. Meve drew on decades of diplomatic experience and managed to maintain a straight face as the pair attempted to make their escape from the overcrowded office, briefly became jammed together in the doorway, and awkwardly negotiated their way out, one after the other.

    “Gods preserve us,” Reynard muttered, rubbing his forehead painfully, the moment the door finally shut behind them. Meve snorted a laugh at last, perched on the edge of his desk, and said, “She’ll do nicely, I think; seems game enough, given the circumstances.”

    He shook his head at her and asked, wearily, “Is it too early to start drinking?”

    “It is a holiday. However, those guard patrols for the town must be arranged, and I still have to review my steward’s reports -”

    “I’ll bring the reports as well as a bottle, then,” Reynard decided, making for the door; she caught his arm as he passed, kissed him, and pulled away a long moment later to stare into his eyes. He blinked down at her, apparently struck as speechless as his squire, until she released him and said, “Go on, then; I’ll be here.”

    “Actually, I’m not thirsty after all,” he said, not moving away. She flashed a smile, slid her arms around his neck, and didn’t argue.

      Reynard did arrange the patrols, eventually, but Meve was forced to put the paperwork off; there was a feast to attend, and she had no time to read accounts before it began. It had to be held in the courtyard under the moonlight, because the entire city was invited and most of it’s more upstanding citizens had actually turned up, and, on top of them, all the knights and their horde of attendants; the resulting crowd would never fit inside the great hall. Even her usual courtiers had trouble maintaining stiff decorum in the open air, by blazing fires and with an astonishing amount of food and drink in them. The Queen herself sat at a table with the Baroness and Count Odo; the Count was companionably silent as usual, and so Meve passed the time chatting mainly with the Baroness. The women waved off occasional requests to dance in favor of a detailed discussion of feats of arms they’d witnessed during tournaments and battles, until, unexpectedly, Sir Holt advanced on them out of the crowd. The Baroness immediately paused, mid-sentence, and stared him down; he did not appear to notice her pointed, but wordless, dismissal. Reynard stiffened slightly in his seat, eyes narrowing. Meve sighed quietly; she of course knew the red knight was in attendance, because she’d spotted Gaheris out in the lists the previous afternoon, but had thought he’d have had the sense to avoid her.

    However, all the red knight said to her was a polite greeting and a remark on the success of the evening, so far. She nodded at him in acknowledgment; he then turned to Reynard and said, “Count Odo - I look forward to our rematch, tomorrow.”

    “Do you, now?” the Count replied, coldly; then, his conscience apparently made uneasy by his own rudeness, added, “As do I, Sir Holt; best of luck to you, when the time comes.”

    “And to you, my lord,” the red knight said, glanced uncertainly at the condescending Baroness, and retreated without further comment. Meve glanced sideways at the Count’s distant frown and nodded to him resignedly. He needed no further invitation to quit the field, and, for some reason, the remainder of the event seemed to go on with a shade of awkwardness in his absence; her renewed conversation with the Baroness felt somewhat stilted, and the din of the crowd around them oppressive. The feast eventually ended with an inevitable speech by the Mayor, which not a soul attended to; the locals had heard it before and the visitors seemed to be unsure who it was that was lecturing them. The Queen then delivered some much briefer remarks, as expected, which received the crowd’s full concentration, dismissed them to their own devices, and departed.

      An hour later, she was safely in her own private office, puzzling over a line item in her steward’s report: paied to Sir Roger Eres knight upon a bille of Sir John Kimborne knight 153 g., when someone came thundering up the stairs and burst suddenly through the door. Reynard jerked awake in his chair by the fire, alarmed at the noise, saw what had made it, and settled again with a quiet, relieved, sigh. She herself had turned a savage glare on the intruder, but subsided when it only proved to be Gascon, reeking of liquor and panting slightly.

    “It’s late, Brossard. What do you want?” Meve asked, looking back down at her papers. She sat back with a quick, irritated, frown as the Duke strode over, slapped a wide leather strap down on top of them, and demanded, “Look at this.”

    “It’s a girth, from a saddle,” she said, glancing from it to him with a raised eyebrow.

    “Yes,” Gascon agreed, despite her warning expression. Reynard stood with a faint groan, walked over, glanced at it, and said, “Isn’t that one of mine? What’s this about?”

    “Look there, by the buckle,” Gascon said, impatiently, pointing. Meve eyed the area and spotted what appeared to be a wrinkle or crack in the leather; she picked it up to study it more closely, and finally looked back up at the Duke, scowling.

    “It looks as if someone cut it most of the way through,” she said. “And then, what? Glued it back together? A damn good job, too; would never have noticed it, myself, if you didn’t point it out.”

    “It would likely snap th’ instant it took a hard shock,” Reynard added, taking the girth and turning it over thoughtfully. “But when someone might’ve done it, I don’t know. I used this just yesterday, practicing against Roland Orlac; you were there, Meve.”

    “Perhaps they did it days ago, and it was just luck that kept it from breaking, then,” Gascon suggested, shrugging. “Or it could have been yesterday afternoon, before Pug and Gaspar started looking after your things.”  

    Meve swore angrily, already forming a long list of suspects: disgruntled barons, unscrupulous competitors, foreign saboteurs, domestic anarchists. Reynard sighed in weary agreement with her.

    “Well, annoying as this is, it’s not my first overly bitter rival, I suppose. I’ve survived th’ others; this will be no different,” he said, pragmatically.

    “Yes, well, regardless, it’ll be your last. Find out who did this, Gascon,” the Queen said. “I take attempts to sabotage my General’s equipment very personally.”

    “I’ll do what I can,” he assured, grimly.

[venomous--fics]

Surprise!

Summary: You and Eddie are married and are expecting a baby and Venom doesn't understand. At all. But then there's another surprise!

Pairing: Eddie Brock/Venom x Pregnant!Wife!Reader

a/n: So I'm back. Sorry.. My laptop had to be fixed. Something was wrong with the screen dealio.. But it's all good now!!! Take this blurb I found in my documents while I work on other stuff! It's a bit short.. tis why its a blurb. also dont mind the names.. one of them is really related to eddie while the other is just a name i liked.

p.s. if you more of "eddie learning how to dad." just ask.

p.s.s. used that gif for no other reason than it made me laugh. youre welcome.

STORY:

Your baby is due any day and you couldn't be happier. Eddie was a wreck because he has spent his days putting together the nursery and Venom has been driving him up the wall. Venom didn't understand why human had offspring the way they did.. Even though Eddie explained it to him a thousand times.. He even had to tell V to butt out while you two were .. Trying to do the deed. He still doesn't get it.

"V, man, I'll get you a book-"

"I cannot read, Eddie."

"We'll google it later."

"I don't know what a GOOGLE is.. Eddie--"

"Just SSSSSSH! For one second, man.. Trying to figure out how to fold these baby clothes."

Eddie held up a onesie that looked like a cute pair of yellow overalls with flowers on it. You two were expecting a girl and it finally dawned on Eddie how huge this was. He stared silently at the outfit as he lowered it to his lap.

"It is ridiculously tiny, Eddie."

"Yeah," Eddie said quietly, "It is.. Isn't it."

He looked around the room that he decorated and painted.. In the house you both worked hard to buy.. And Eddie shed a tear. He never thought he would have any of this. He was a schmuck when he met you. He had lost his job and fiance.. He got a weird alien stuck inside him- Yet, you wanted to stick around.

"Are you sad, Eddie?" Venom asked.

"Far from that. I'm just really happy."

The moment was cut off by the sound of a glass breaking downstairs. In no time at all, Eddie was in the kitchen, where you were leaning on the counter, looking as though you just got kicked in the gut.

"What is it?! What's wrong?" Eddie rushed over to you.

"I think my water broke." you chuckled, only to groan in pain.

Eddie began running around like a chicken with its head cut off, "Keys. Bag. Uh.. Keys, can't find them."

You smiled, sighing as you looked at him, "You left them by the front door. And you put the bags in the trunk last week."

"Right." Eddie came over to help you, "I knew that."

The three of you got into the car calmly and Eddie, sweating through his shirt, tried to get to the hospital quickly, but not too quickly.

--

Three hours later, you're in full on labor and your baby is almost out and you couldn't be more relieved. The nurses and doctors and telling you encouranging things, but all you hear is youe husband reassuring you that you got this.

Soon enough, you heard the cries of your baby and a wave of relief came over you as you saw the nurses take the baby over to a table.

You dropped your head back into your pillow and let out a huge breath.

"Well, don't get too comfortable." your doctor chuckled.

"Why not.. Is something wrong?" Eddie stammered.

Your doctor smiled as she adjusted on her little stool, "The next baby should be here shortly."

"Another one?!" You and Eddie snapped.

"You....knew it was twins.. Right."

"Twins." Eddie went wide eyed. "Oh God."

You watched as Eddie fainted onto the floor. You looked back at the doctor, "We ..uh..didn't know.."

"Well now you do." she beamed, "Surprise!"

A new pain hit you as the next baby was about to be born. You appreciated your doctors humour, but in the moment, not so much.

As you were pushing another human out of you, the doctor explained how you might not have known. Maybe the second baby was hidden behind the first one, so all the ultrasounds only caught one heartbeat. Either way, baby number two was coming out and you couldn't change that now. You just want to take a nap after this is all said and done.

--

Eddie's eyes fluttered open and he realized he was on a nice plush recliner, still in your hospital room. Everything was groggy and his head hurt, but a quiet humming calmed him as he came to. He glanced over to your bed, where you were resting with two bundles of blankets resting on your arms, which were being supported by pillows.

You looked so tired and in need of a warm bath, but to Eddie you looked like the most beautiful woman to ever grace the Earth. You were looking so lovingly at the bundles before you, cooing and humming tunes. Eddie almost didn't want to disturb you.

"Daddy's awake." you cooed at Eddie.

Eddie slowly got up from his chair and came over to your bed, carefully taking a seat close to you. He looked at the babies, already so in love and ready to protect them at any cost.

"The girl I named Jamie, like we discussed.. And our surprise little boy.. I thought Tyler was cute."

"Jamie and Tyler Brock." Eddie repeated, "I like them."

"You want to hold one of them?"

Eddie, obviously, said yes and awkwardly picked up and cradled one of the babies. You had to inform him that that was Jamie. Eddie looked down at his newborn daughter.. You and Eddie had the name picked before you even knew the baby was a girl. Jamie was the name of Eddie's mother, who he never got to know.. But still loved dearly.

Jamie's faced scrunched up a bit as she realized someone new was holding her. She didn't cry, however, she just nestled back into her blanket and continued sleeping.

Venom finally spoke up after a long time of being radio silent, "So this is a human baby.."

"Yes, V. Her name is Ja-"

"It is very ugly and gross."

Eddie was quite offended, actually. He opened his mouth to give Venom a piece of his mind until the alien cut him off.

"I love them already. I will eat anyone who tries to harm them."

Eddie sighed, understanding that technically you and him had three kids.. Not just two. But Eddie was still happy, nonetheless.

Eddie wiped a tear away as he smiled, "So this is how it feels."

"Mm?" you cooed, scooping up Tyler and looking at Eddie.

"Ah.. Y'know," he seemed embarassed for some reason, "True love.. Happiness. The whole nine yards."

You looked at Tyler, who was yawning, "Yeah. It is."

A comfortable silence fell over the room for a very long time. You and Eddie had managed to cuddle close enough, and you were on the verge of sleeping for 30 years.. Before everything dawned on you.

"Eddie.."

"Hmm." Eddie hummed, eyes closed, baby carefully resting in his arms.

"We need another carseat..."

Eddie's eyes shot open. You were right.. You only had one. And the snowball began rolling. You would need another crib, and more clothes, another stroller.. And he thought sleeping or showering with one baby around would hard enough... He realized he might never sleep again. Or shower. And those were some of his favorite things to do.

And he realized even more stuff.. He had no idea how to even dress a baby.. Would he break it? How do you feed it? What if it cries. He had a lot to learn and fast.

Eddie stared at the ceiling as his brain died, "Fuck."

"Eddie don't swear. There are babies here."

[currentfandomkick]

Bio! Dad Strange Part 9

Jason returns, may be a 2 parter to cover tim getting kidnapped and the aftermath. Will let you know at the end. We are getting to Marinette dealing with Ladybugging soon.

Marinette wasnt sure what to think this year. She met The Barry Allen last year. She also figured out 2 heroes pre-flash revelation and two more after—in her defense Hero Stalker’s old theory on The first Robin did Batman in. it is not her fault 5 founding members have the multiple-persona game of a booger.

She was also Tetch (Mad Hatter. Doesnt deserve the name) and Mr. J’s, Jerimah’s, last victim before they died. Then some idiots revived Jerimah. She hates his cult a lot, okay.

Everyone was on high alert and trying to keep her inside. The thing is, she hates being inside. She’s inside for designing, sure. Research? She’ll live.

But 24/7 inside time?

Never a good combo with her.

Rose’s plants may be snitches, but they seemed to agree on the over coddling. She’s ten, can break phones by tapping them, and is defiantely more off her stickers than on at the moment.

The one on her was uring her into some alleyway. If she was reading the movement pattern right, a gang fight.

Lovely, she usually did these with some sort of supervision but they were all being rude and she needed time outside.

She checked her belt, a few pairs of ball weights tied together with one chain each to make bolas clipped to back. She has a taser in hand, and a few rubber bullet loaded gun on one hip and a stun gun her size in the other. She had a packet of zipties and rope up each sleeve. Easy to giftwrap and humiliate bad people, like Batman does.

She blinked once when she saw—new player? In a bright red full face helmet that looks horrible. And he’s holding that gun make all wrong to max out usage. Ugh, amatuers.

Some part of her groaned about a potential run-in with Batman and his new Robin—she was pissed about Tim not telling her still—and decided this was as good an anger management as any. New vigilante, maybe the sirens would help him find a team.

She snuck up behind a few members, quick to grab the guns and move them out of reach. No need to give anyone playing possum an easy out, right—she saw a mix of her people in with the gang. She needed to teip this guy up before he hurt the RKC street kids and honoraries tangled up in this.

“Hey helmet, if you’re gonna shoot them you’re holding the gun wrong.”

Helmet turned to see her. She didnt grab her usual harley-knock off outfit for helping today. She wanted to be Pixie Pop for a bit. And if the Rogues forgot that she’s Pixie well, better for her, right? Pixie just wore her hair like Tinkerbell and wore a bit of green.

The guy he was aiming at made to run.

Marinette grabbed a makeshift bolas and threw it at his knees. She recognized him from one of the RKC hit lists—human trafficker. He fell with them wrapped around tight and defiantely injured bith his knees with how the weights hit him.

“I, Pixie Pop?” Weird, no one had seen her as Pixie in two years. How’d he know it was her?

“Yeah. Havent been around much lately.” She threw another bola at another guy. “You new?”

“Talk after i kill these guys.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, because really?

She threw a knife to screw his aim into non-lethal on one guy. “Kick their ass first, some RKC are in here.”

Helmet oddly did as she said, switching from guns to—is that. A. Sword?

She twisted to punch the guy sneaking up on her. Helmet threw a sword and landed it in his shoulder.

“Thanks!”

“Holy shot you’re really here this time.”

“Did you get hit with feargas as a baby or something?” Her partner being prone to dellusions and good with weapons was a bad thing.

“Just came back from the dead is all.”

marinette hit the guy going for helmet with her stun gun.

“That’ll do it!”

Helmet turned to one of the guys, gun at the ready. She had a feeling Helmet needed a lot of help, or else one of Rose’s agents would be down.

“If you know about pixies, you should know she got an upgrade to having some trust dust.”

Marinette walked over to the guy, letting her tracker plant take a look. The flower bloomed and he got a face full of ‘filter-less pollen’ that’s as close to a truth serum as Rose could make. After all, people can turn sides.

“Truth pollen?” Helmet was staring at her closely.

“Yep.” Marinette turned to her victim. “Are you helping the traffickers?”

“Does infiltration and killing them count as helping?”

Helmet stared at them then.

“Which team?”

“HKT ma’am. How did you get rose to give you one of those?”

“Think for a minute who she gives these to.”

“Comanding officers of the the RKC reconn and interigation but there’s only 15 and i met them all when i joined in the fall.”

“Im the summer help when theyre not puppy gaurding. Now, i have to do zipties on the traffickers, think you can help?”

“I lost coordination from the pollen.”

“Of course you did.”

Marinette turned to see Helmet staring at her. Like she should be dead, not the new revival guy.

“Good enough.”

“I thought only Poison Ivy could do things like that.”

“I have a badass team, well, when they aren’t going overboard. One week kidnapped and suddenly im made of glass.”

“Pixie you are what, ten?”

“So? Two of my best friends went missing becuase no one stepped up, one of them resurfaced as an idiot a year later but still.”

Helmet stopped then. “Two?”

“Hero stalker went after our big brother vanished.. he came back as an idiot.”

Helmet paused. “Hey, you check the others and i’ll help you drop off the good ones at a doctor or something.”

“Zipties are at the ready. Mind doing your share?”

Helmet did as she asked, working with her until all was squared away.

“Okay, my tracker gave off a signal to the RKC to gather our guys here, and—why are bleeding?”

Helmet looked up at her then. “I am?”

“... you’re coming with me since i dont know if you need a transfusion, but i know a guy who can help.”

“I’m driving.”

“On what?”

“Motorcycle.”

Marinette let him walk her to it, and she got on first. He ‘drove’ them while the plant told her when to turn. They ended up at her dad’s clinic as ‘Mr. Smith’. He was so grounding her.

“Smith, i need help,” she tried.

Her dad came out and paled when he saw her carrying Helmet. Before he passed out he let her take it off. “Red hoodie... oh god he said he was revived.”

Her father worked out the blood bags while she checked the wound, bullet still in there. She got it out with tweezers. No major damage to the muscles and shit. How many scars did he have? Pre or post revival?

When he came to she turned to her father and said one thing.

“So this is my new brother. Dont try to get out of it, he kept me alive when i was comstantly pixie, and you said if he was in a bad place then you’d take him in, no questions asked.”

Strange sighed, nodded, and went back to fixing Helmet up.

The next day he was forced moved into an extra room by hers. Somehow there was already clothes his size and style in it.

“Pixie...”

“Im determined and my honorary aunt is a cat burglar.”

Helmet hugged her.

“So for the documents, what do you want to go by?”

Helmet said he didnt want it to be obvious, given who he was before.

“Its not like you were robin.”

“I was.”

“.... i know two robins now, pre-robining. What is my life?”

“ you are ten, calm down. And you knew dick?”

“Met him as Nightwing, not very friendly. But uh, remember hero stalker?”

“The idiot who followed me and B?”

“Yeah, so funny thing, it was a thing that he wanted to be Robin when you went off from Gotham, and then he somehow managed to convince bats to take him on.”

“That Child is Robin.”

“Will be another hero soon if he knows what’s good for him—he’s too easy to make.”

“Wait, you know who he is-is or—”

“I know 5 secret identities and want to lodge a formal complaint about heroes having no secret identity game.”

“Youre ten. I refuse to let you deal with legal things.”

“But illegal is still on the table?”

“I am a vigilante, of course it is.”

“Good, so can we tlak about how dumb Supes secret id is? I photoshoped glasses on as a joke and looked at my file and knew.”

“Wait have they found you yet?”

“No? I dont think so. Not the mom and step dad or father one yet.”

“But its.”

“I know, but i can keep multiple secret identities. They cant handle one. What is this bull they drop in my lap? No masks for two of them, and the three with cant even manage a basic gait switch?”

“I am so glad you noticed too.”

“Also we need to intervene with Hero Stalker.”

“Does your father know-know or...”

“Knows i know, but knows im not telling even in death.”

“Fair. So, heads up i am going to yell at the JL after killing B for impact.”

“How about beating him up instead and kidnapping Hero Stalker? Bats is fine just needs an adult working with him.”

“Maybe. If my mind wasnt so fucked i’d send the Dick a text or something about this, but i think he hates me so that probably wouldnt work.”

“We have planning time, that’s what my house arrest is good for. Now name.”

“... i want to go by Jay.”

“James work?”

“Sure.”

“James “Jay” Smith then. And we are fixing your vilagante outfit.”

“What’s wrong with it.”

“Your helmet has a nose. And the who this is shit for discreet armour. I’ll get a rant in fifteen on armor history from a fashion obsessed friend and make something for you using that, ok?”

“Do i have a choice?”

“I am your little sister offically. resistance is futile.”

—

So the long awaited return of Red Hoodie/Red Hood/Jason Todd.

For refrence (as age is weird here) Jason looks 14/15 here, but due to dead years is technically 18

Tim is 12

Marinette is 10

Dick is 20something.

Bruce is 30something

Heads up, this will be a two parter for this summer. As i love the next part but need sleep.

@ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @emeraldpuffguide @dast218 @weird-pale-blonde-person @mystery-5-5

[prorevenge]

Boy meets girl

I often pressed V for information on how she earned income but she would give conflicting answers about grants and scholarships until one day.... About 6 months after our first meeting, she finally tells me and IT. IS. NOT. GOOD. I was interviewing at a professional school when I receive the call, she's in trouble, BIG TROUBLE, and needs my help. She tells me she earns money by doing others' assignments for them. $200 to write a paper and $800 to complete an online class, usually a 100 level introductory course. She describes the method she uses to circumvent the ITs detection of others completing others assignment and how her client wasn't doing his part to copy/paste and submit from his own computer. He is failing the course and blames her. He threatens to turn her in. Her plan is to refund his money and wants me to 'follow him to see if he goes somewhere alone and take his phone' because that has all the evidence of their communications. HOLY SHIT! SHE WANTS ME TO COMMIT STRONG ARMED ROBBERY, a FELONY for her! I'm not going down for this or with her and I know nobody would believe me. ENTER: military experience - if there's no record, it didn't happen. So, I agree to help her, somehow, as soon as I return to town. I go to V's dorm the next night and she shows me EVERYTHING. Her list of clients, their blackboard passwords, how she meets them, how she defends them during honor code violations, etc. So I tell her not to worry, I'll handle everything on the day she refunds his money. Relieved, she goes to bed but before she lays down I ask to use her computer for on assignment and she says "sure do whatever you want". In my state, if you let someone use your electronics, its called "having privilege" and anything you do with their computer which may harm them is legal as if it your own computer. So, I took screenshots of her conversations with her clients, I open google settings and screenshot all the blackboard users and passwords stored on her computer. I go to her messenger and screenshot their conversations. Back home, I compiled our recordings and saved our facebook conversations. A week later, I made up an argument about an upcoming New Years Party and broke up with her. Then sat on the information I had on hand for 2 more weeks thinking about what I should do.

I remembered how she has a history of arrests from high school to freshman year for stealing from outlet malls and selling their loot online. Never formally charged. She, of course, omitted this from her application into professional school. How she admitted "finding a mark" and using them to pass her courses. How she denigrated others who were completing courses through hard work. How she used her position as honor council to get her friends out of trouble while helping to expel others for doing exactly what she was doing. How she cheated on me multiple times, used me, manipulated me, tried to make me commit a felony and ruin my life. SHE HAD TO BE STOPPED.

Knowing she was friends with the faculty on the honor council, they often bought each other gifts, I had to go above their heads. I gave names and descriptions of the events to my program director. He then goes to the honor council, anyway. I was called into the honor council's head office of "Corrupt Administrator" CA. CA tells me I should delete the information I have because it could become a civil matter and I should consider my "self preservation." She schedules another meeting with me a week later. I return and she asks if I want to make a statement about V. Guess what I said, I tell her "no, I deleted everything and I don't remember" because I was in the military and I know how to 'play ball' when superiors tell you to shut your mouth. But the most important reason I decided to not file against V directly was due to the fact I was applying for a military scholarship to pay for professional school. Since I did not follow through, the program director filed an honor code violation complaint against V on a date [suggested by CA]. A month later they tell me their investigation was inconclusive and they will close the case due to the director waiting 1 day too long to file according to the school's academic policy. CA set us up! However, since the director used my name as a source, they must notify V because students have rights to know their accusers. FUCK.MY.LIFE. CA fucked me and ruined any chance for a case against V based on a technicality. Now I fear for my safety because V tried to get me to strong arm rob someone now I just implicated a dozen cheaters who have as much as her to lose. CA schedules a meeting with V and tell her about an ongoing investigation and tells her she will be kept up-to-date. I know the investigation is over and now they are just doing formalities. V requests the information of the investigation and they promise to email it to her. V calls me for support even though we aren't together. She is crying and talking about killing herself. She tells me her dad had been paying for her college this whole time and starts coming clean with other lies. I feel bad and almost regret everything. Maybe she is not a sociopath, maybe she is really sorry. She stays at my house the next few days, I'm watching her trying to keep it together. THEN HER FUCKING CLIENTS START COMING TO MY HOUSE. She is still doing their assignments! She NEVER LEARNS!

Finally she gets the investigation info and there's my name. She calls me 130 times in 3 days, sends her friends to my classes to tell me to come to her house, finally I do. But I don't go into her room because she will trap me. She takes my phone so I can't record. She tries to get me to sign a paper saying I fabricated everything and its all false. I tell V, "They already closed the investigation, you wont get in any trouble why should I implicate myself and get in trouble? It wont solve anything!" And she pleads, "Do you still love me?" I shake my head and walk out. Two days later, police are waiting at my house to serve a 72 hour emergency protective order (EPO) commanding me to stay away from V. I know what she is up to. She is trying to get me to violate the protective order, discredit me, and send me to jail. Its very easy to lie to create one and lie to say it was violated.

NOW ITS NOT JUST REVENGE TIME, ITS WAR

Here's the plot twist: I never really deleted the files as I told CA. TYVM, Google drive.

After the 72 hours EPO expired, another EPO arrives which lasts two years but requires a court appearance. This is a huge problem because I am in the US Army reserves and it requires the handling of firearms which is illegal under an EPO. Her lawyer calls me and threatens me not to "participate in anymore investigations against her" and sends a paper tiger. I get a lawyer, lets name him "Folds like a lawn chair". He tells me "who will they believe: a pretty girl or you?" I fire him. Get a better lawyer, a trial lawyer, called "Miss Badass Esq." and prepare for war. Miss Badass requests a copy of V's EPO from the court. It essentially says I was blackmailing her, threatening to beat her up, and I broke into her room to steal incriminating information against her. All lies. I provide my lawyer the entire history of our relationship: 600 pages of facebook and text messages showing she is the aggressor, the abuser, in the relationship, phone call history, all the recordings and screenshots of her cheating ring. I make a poster sized chart of her room and the events that transpire there the day in question when she tried to trap me into signing a statement taking responsibility for her actions.

Courtdate: We made V and her lawyer look REALLY stupid. They were going with the 'pretty girl' strategy. But the dorm gave us records showing she was signing me in and out of her room, so it discredits the need to break in. The call logs: 130 times in 3 days and aggressive texts showed she wasn't actually afraid of me adn it was her, not me, being aggressive. And when he asked what I had to use to blackmail her, her lawyer said "just some tutoring papers" for which the judge said, "that doesn't sound like anything wrong. What power did that give him over you?" They had no response. My turn to speak, I explain how she tried to get me to rob a guy, how she wanted me to write a letter to take the blame, how she used her position as honor council chair to break state law and violate academic policy. And summarized we were only there because she wanted revenge on me. I watched V and her lawyer stutter and squirm uncomfortably under the judges questioning, case dismissed.

All that information I gathered to defend myself was not going to go to waste. I took it to a newly hired honor council investigator called "Meg" who had no affiliation with V. I told her what CA had done to defend V. A week later, I was told the by Meg there had been a meeting with the school police, the provost, their legal team, then the provost himself decided filed a complaint against V. I had to meet with the police to file a statement about V trying to recruit me to rob someone but other than that I was out of the loop. I later learned the results: V lost her her slot at that school's professional program, her program director yelled at her at the top of his lungs, "YOU WILL NEVER GO TO ********* SCHOOL, I KNOW ADMISSIONS AND I WILL SEE TO IT", she got expelled, her TWO degrees (biomedical engineering and biology with a minor in chemistry) were withheld for 6 years and her transcripts would carry a permanent mention of an honor code violation, her clients who graduated had their degrees retracted with similar mentions on their transcripts, and current clients were also expelled. The school changed its policy on reporting date requirements to like 60 or 90 days. Me? I am in professional school. V had her chance to get away with all of this until she tried to get revenge on me. I reduced this super villain from owning a fleet of beta male minions, being the most connected person in the university, and having a lucrative future in ripping people off in the medical industry to the last time I saw her: riding a fucking scooter.

(source) story by (/u/Apophis1942)

[derrickdent]

BBHMM, OR HOW TO DEAL WITH THE DEADBEAT CLIENT

You’re a fucking freelancin’ badass, with a semi-steady flow of work, and you’re living the dream of doing **insert best/fave thing here** , and getting the money from your biggest fans. Can’t be better, right? Well, one of things you were probably not informed about is what happens when the dream sometimes becomes a financial nightmare. 30 day waits for payment. Invoices and reminders. Anxiety waiting for that check. Clients that don’t seem to care that you’re eating peanut butter for breakfast, lunch, and dinner while your payday is delayed in a death spiral of perpetuity. Getting stiffed sucks, and you gotta keep the lights on. How can you keep this bullshit at a minimum? I’m not a financial expert, but I’ve eaten a fair amount of shit trying to get money from clients that have a sense of urgency about everything except paying me. There’s a ton of info about this online, but hopefully my lewd voice in the choir is helpful. (Samuel L. Jackson voice) LET’S GET YOU YOUR MONEY, MUTHAFUCKA. FROM THE BEGINNING

Make sure that you get everything down in writing. Have a statement of work or a contract that states your scope of work, your fee, deadlines, usage restrictions, deliverables, and any notes about late fees, payment timetables, and billable expenses. (Example of a statement of work).

Make sure that a client knows that you can’t begin work without acknowledging these terms. They should return a signed copy of this document, or acknowledge its terms via email. Sometimes there’s a rush situation and you may be pressured to dive in. It’s still a clients responsibility to make sure everything is taken care of on paper, to protect you and to ensure that they are also in the best position to get the best from you. 

If they “politely” ignore the contract, then reiterate the terms in a follow up email, with a polite call to action (ex: “Hi! I’m just making sure that we’re on the same page about what the scope of this project is all about. I going to be [**rates, usage, time, deliverables, expected expenses, payment expectations here**]. Is that correct?). It’s important to get this down on the front end. Depending on your state, this counts as a legally binding statement.

NOTE: Try to get an upfront deposit if you can. 30-50% is normal, and this is also a test of whether the client will be good for it after all is said and done. This is also an incentive to put your best foot forward. Some clients will balk at this, but if the early “what is your rate?” convo suggests this is a possibility, go for it. This also depends on the industry. This is almost impossible with editorial, and though I’ve heard mixed stories in publishing, it’s hard to get an advance or deposit unless you’re doing a full book. Large corporations often have a convoluted accounts payable system that pretty much guarantees money will be slower than human evolution. The best results I’ve had are with small, dynamic businesses and individual clients. Once they confirm the terms, then you can begin scheduling and first steps in a project. FAST FORWARD TO PROJECT COMPLETION

INVOICE IMMEDIATELY. Seriously. Do NOT delay this. Most clients are not going to remind you to send one after you’ve finished a project, and you are ultimately responsible for this. (example invoice). Include the basics: your business name your contact info and address the client’s info and address an invoice number total due  

Don’t forget an invoice number- accounts payable folks have a hard time placing your invoice in their system without one, and you don’t want to delay things because of a technicality. You can use a simple numbering convention: I use my initials and a double digit combo (ex: DD01). Also, if you haven’t gotten an EIN, get one from the IRS. WHEN YOU APPLY, ONLY GO TO THE .GOV IRS LINK. SCAMS ARE A-PLENTY AND I WANT YOU TO AVOID TEARS THO. An EIN is great, because it can be very compromising to keep putting your SSN out there, and in some cases an EIN can get you paid faster. You should itemize your work in the invoice, similarly to how you would find items on a receipt (ex: 1- Illustration for “client and application”, **brief description** = $THIS AMOUNT.00) Write amounts in dollars and cents. Instead of “$3000”, write “$3000.00”. Again, this helps your client or client’s accountants process your payment a touch faster, and saved time counts. Include a line with a total of your billable expenses. These are items that you HAD TO purchase to finish your work. Make sure you keep your receipts, and make a PDF slideshow with scans of those items for transparency’s sake. Send that PDF with your invoice. Finally, include a line that is the grand total of EVERYTHING. Put that total in BOLD PRINT just to make sure that it’s clear what the client owes. If necessary, you can include direct deposit info. This includes your routing and account number. This way, you give the client another way to pay you, and you can fight off the delay of waiting for a paper check. Even though it’s assumed in many places, make it clear that payment is due NOW. From the moment you send the final invoice out, the onus is on the client to pay up. They should confirm receipt of this, but if they’re slow after a day or two, give them a quick email reminder. NOTE: If you have a client’s phone number, keep it handy. This will come in handy later. FAST FORWARD TO A FEW WEEKS LATER AND YOU HAVEN’T BEEN PAID YET

Either way, you’re waiting (and hopefully pursuing other work!) for money that you need. The timeframe for a reminder varies. Some people will drop a friendly note after 15 days. I tend to be a bit generous, and will wait until 10 days before the invoice is late. The email is friendly, and assumes good faith. Something like: “Hi! I just wanted to touch base about the payment for this invoice. Is there any progress on this? Is there anything I can do to assist with this? Please note that you will be 30 days late on (date here). If so, then a (late fee percentage) will be added to the final amount due.” The key is to emphasize some kind of fiscal penalty. People don’t like to spend more money, so you’ll, at the very least, get a response to let you know that things are being processed. You may also get redirected to an accounting department. If you get a number or an email to them, HOLD ON TO THIS INFO. Hopefully, at this point, the client gets the push to make good on payment. FAST FORWARD TO 30 DAYS AND NO PAYMENT

At this point, you are apprehensive because no one wants to wait to be able to pay bills, eat pizza, and enjoy their own Netflix account. The dynamic changes now, because this is the day that the client has to pay you before it’s late. Tomorrow is late. In some states, you have legal recourse to pursue payment (In NYC, the default timetable for freelance payment is 30 days). You should email your client reminding them that payment is due today. If you have their number, call them as well to reinforce this message, but emails are important now. Each email you send is a recorded effort to receive payment, and they are timestamped for posterity. Note that a client may have already sent a payment out, but the check is transit. Also, calling/emailing an accounts payable department will reveal that a payment has been made and it will be in your bank account in a few business days. Get confirmation of this before you continue. AFTER THE INVOICE IS 30 DAYS LATE

Clients need the benefit of the doubt, but it’s their responsibility to pay you now. After 30 days, you have “permission” to increase the frequency of your correspondence. During the first 10 days of being late, I will email and call every other business day (Monday, Wednesday, Friday was my model, but it may differ for you).  Afterwards, I will check in once a day. This may seem excessive, but persistence goes a long way. You may get an exasperated response, but don’t stop until you get a confirmation of payment or a layout and timeline of the payment. If you have a contact within a company, use them as your ally within an organization. It’s easier to get things moving with someone on the inside, and pressure on them will translate to pressure elsewhere to get you to stop asking for your money. Be professional, but direct. They owe you, and any further delay will result in additional fees, and possible collection action (including legal action to collect). If you have a number for accounts payable, hammer them hard. They will be probably be your last line of communication, and you’ll need to get an email to reach them again, an employee name to refer to, and a timeline for payment. 

SIDEBAR>>> NYC CREATIVE PROS AND THE FIFA ACT

If you live in NYC, you have an additional resource: the city government. The NYC Department of Consumer Affairs (DCA), and The Office of Labor Policy and Standards (OLPS) have a complaint form that you should fill out as soon as the client is over 30 days late. The Freelance Isn’t Free Act (FIFA, passed in 2017) is very clear that what your client is doing is ILLEGAL, and the city will assist you in gathering materials to make a case for nonpayment. Fill the complaint form out, be very specific about your client and any related contacts. Note, they are not legal representation as much as they’re navigators who will help you find legal counsel and resources needed to file a claim in court. Remember when I said to get everything in writing? That’s important. It may be a bit of work, but find every email thread related to your freelance gig. If you’re doing this on your mobile, open the thread. Go to the first message. Find where the “print” option is. You’ll be taken to a preview window. Look for the “download” button. This is really easy with Gmail. You can basically save the entire thread as an organized PDF, with messages in chronological order

Do this with every gig-related email attached to the overdue payment. Save these PDFs to a folder. Create sub folders that can put this correspondence in context, like chapters (ex: one folder is “Beginning of Job”, another “Job in Progress”, another “Invoice/Payment Requests”). This will make it easier to navigate everything. Include the PDF folder (zipped) with your complaint folder. OLPS will take a sec to get back to you, since you’re not the only person in NYC that gets stiffed. After about 5 biz days, give them a call. This can help you get ahead of the pack. You will receive a call from an OLPS office case manager who will confirm your info. They will ask if you’ve been paid. If yes, then you can thank them and call everything off. If not, they will send a certified letter (WITH AN OFFICIAL ASS LETTERHEAD) to your client, reminding them that they’re late. They have 20 days to respond to this- if they don’t, then they will basically be on the hook to go to court for a nonpayment case. You’ll have to either get a lawyer to rep you, or you can rep yourself, but the client is on the hook to prove they don’t owe you. Since you already have a record of your interactions, this will be very difficult for them. It should be noted that clients tend to get reallll antsy when the government says that they owe money. They’ll probably contact you directly. Keep up with these responses. Each email builds out the timeline of your case, and is fodder for the cannon. At this point, they usually pay up. DISCLOSURE: I’ve never had to go to court, so you may need to look elsewhere for advice. This may be a good place to start. SPEAKING OF DOCUMENTATION- I forgot to add that you should record your calls when speaking to clients that are late. ACR is a free app that allows you to record your calls. Make sure recording is legal in your state, and always let clients know that the call is being recorded. You can borrow the “for quality control purposes” line if you’d like. Sometimes people will try to circumvent documentation by using the phone. Don’t let them weasel out of that. LASTLY, this is specifically related to NY. The parts about documenting your correspondence are universal, though. Wherever you are, a vital part of making a civil case is piling on the material against a deadbeat. Be vigilant and persistent. I would suggest looking into whether there is a state govt. entity that you can go to about civil cases, and also look up if there are any local volunteer/low cost lawyers in your area. 

The FIFA Act has been a gamechanger in giving freelancers more power to get what is owed to them, and my hope is that other cities follow suit, or organize to get similar legislation for this purpose. SIDEBAR AGAIN>>> LAWYERS

Another way to get a client to pay up faster is to lawyer up earlier. After 30 days, you should see what your options are. If you can afford it, you can consult with a lawyer and get a pro opinion about your case. They may be able to send a stern letter to your deadbeat client (WITH AN OFFICIAL ASS LETTERHEAD) prompting them to pay or else. Like with a government agency, people don’t like surprises from legal. They will probably pay up quick, but if they stick it out, then you can file a claim and take them to civil court. This will be costly for you and your client, so nonpayment usually gets resolved before this happens. If not, know that if a court rules in your favor, the client will have to pay you and cover your legal fees. My experience with lawyers is limited, and I would suggest looking elsewhere for particulars. Also, keep in mind how much you’re owed. A $300 case may not be worth as much squeeze as a $3000 or $30000 one. If it’s a low ball sum you’re owed. You may have an easier time calling it a loss and moving on. 

EDIT: I’ve been told that contingency fee lawyers are out there that don’t collect fees until after an event (like you winning or losing a judgment for example), but they’re kinda like unicorns for freelancers and tend to take on bigger cases. It doesn’t hurt to see if any are out there anyway!

NEW!>>> COLLECTION AGENCIES

So, you may want to seek help through a collection agency. They have the time and resources to call, mail, and chase money when you’re trying to focus on good clients that pay on time and are depending on your A game.

The good news is that most are contingency fee based. That is, they won’t collect anything from you until they get the money from your client.

The down side? They can take anywhere between 18-40% of what your client’s debt is. Note that I didn’t say WHAT THEY COLLECT. If your client owes $100, and the contingency based fee is $30, an agency will take $30 even if they only get $60.

Also, based on a lawyer friend’s input, if your collection agency is legally shady, you may be indirectly on the line if your deadbeat client decides to sue said agency. Also your payment, connected to the collection agency and your client’s legal battle, will be held in indefinite limbo. 

So do your homework and weigh your options before taking this route.

FAST FORWARD TO 60 DAYS Fortunately, I haven’t had to do this, but you can start pursuing legal action to get your money. Check on state laws to make sure this is the case, as well as the particulars about filing a claim. By this time, you should hopefully have a lawyer or some legal counsel at your disposal. If you don’t, then look up the laws of your state and local area to see where you stand if you have to rep yourself. Remember that as long as you have written acknowledgment of your terms of work and written acknowledgment of your invoice, things should lean in your favor. THE END

HOPEFULLY this has been helpful. The best parts of freelance (independence, flexibility, control, and self-prescribed wages) are often at odds with the pitfalls (feast-or-famine dynamics, wearing of all of the hats, taking all of the risks). It can feel like robbery when you put your blood, sweat, and tears into a project only to have an empty bank account as thanks. Some of this info is boilerplate, and some is from direct experience. If any of this relates to you, and you were able to get closer to your hard earned scrill because of this, I can die happy(er).

GOD SPEED AND GET PAID, GODDAMMIT!

ADDENDUM: One of the things that I didn’t emphasize enough is that doing this will be emotionally draining. Unless you are a robot or a stone cold Type A business beast, it will strain you. Make sure that you’re taking care of yourself mentally.

If you have a partner or family, make sure to take the help and support they provide and don’t turn your money issues into a personal issue with them.

  Also, doing this requires energy. It will feel like a part time job, and even if there are late fees that factor into what you get paid, this will largely be unpaid labor. 

Persistence is key, but I’m not going to pretend that it’s not hard or that you won’t have other obligations that make keeping up the effort difficult. I’m lucky in that my girlfriend and I have a relatively low-expense lifestyle, and no dependents, and we’re both fairly flexible because we both freelance full time, and that we had a bit of financial padding saved to weather the storm. Mileage will certainly vary.

Edit: Tumblr is weird about making links visible, so I put them in bold body font for you to find them easier.

[thelamppoststation]

Future’s Past by TheLampPost

In 2008, a year after James managed to get off that godforsaken rock, he receives a visit from a young woman with blue eyes and blonde hair. She hands him a locket and a letter, then demands answers to questions that he didn’t even know existed. Post season 6 (Suliet) - This story is also partly set during the DHARMA days.

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Chapter 2: The Plan             

       DHARMA Initiative: Sonar Fence, July 1975      

She started across the field at a brisk pace, but by the time she got to the path beyond the bushes she'd broken into a run. A sudden wave of nausea twisted her insides into knots, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was due to her newly discovered condition or genuine nerves. This could not be happening. Not to her. Not after all she'd done to prevent exactly this type of scenario from coming to pass. Hell if she'd ever deliver a baby on this island again. Hell if it ever be her own.

When the pylons sprung into view, she stopped. The giant misshapen percussion bells on concrete sticks of terror stood tall and proud across the field in all of their youthful glory, not quite made for musical bliss, but blissfully fulfilling a purpose that kept people as arrested as would a theatre filled audience. Different purpose, same effect.

She crouched down, and flipped the lid on the data pad. Funny how the code was always the same, no matter what decade: 1623.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She whirled around. What the–?

"Miles!"

Where in the hell had he come from? He looked straight at her, narrowed eyes darkening the core of his black pupils, he looked almost threatening, and a familiar tightness settled in her chest, spread all the way down to her spine and back up her arms. She hadn't been on the receiving end of this much blatant mistrust in a long time.

"You scared me," she said, and smiled.

"Where are you going, Juliet?" he wasted no time.

She shrugged, hoping for it to come across as casual.

"I thought I saw something on the security monitors, figured I'd check it out. You know how Horace gets if we sound the alarm prematurely."

"Does LaFleur know you're out here?"

"Of course James knows."

Miles narrowed his eyes even further, causing for his already impossibly narrow slits to turn into even sharper ones; it almost reminded her of dark light peeping through the cracks of a badly insulated shed. He wasn't buying it. Damn him for tempting her into playing so much late night Poker. Miles was good at deception, but he was even better at recognising it. He'd been able to figure out all of her tells straight off the bat, and now she didn't have many, if any, left.

"Why are you lying to me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw you," he took a step closer, and she had to suppress the urge to take a step back. "You were nowhere near the observation deck. I only followed you out here because I saw you flail out of the infirmary like a possessed madwoman. What's going on?"

She bit her lip.

"Look Miles, even if I told you; you wouldn't understand."

"Well," Miles crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Let's see what LaFleur'll have to say about that then."

He reached for his walkie, but before he could so much as pull the device from his pocket she'd already launched herself at him, pinning him to the ground with two hands above his head.

"What the actual fuck, Juliet!" he trashed against her, but she had a good grip on him, her weight pressing down hard on his lower abdomen. Maybe, if he had been a little heavier, or more muscular like James, he would have been able to break free, but Miles was about as scrawny as a malnourished field mouse.

"Get off me!"

"You don't want to do this, Miles!"

She gave him a hard look.

"They'll have seen you on the monitors by now anyway," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised if LaFleur is already on his way!"

She tightened her grip on his wrists.

"It would take them at least five more minutes to get here," she said. "Look, Miles, you're my friend and I really, really do not want to hurt you, but if you don't let this go, you'll leave me no choice."

He stopped, and stared, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

"You're serious?!"

She gave a curt nod.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me! Fine!" he slackened. "Go, then! You fucking Hilary Swank wannabe. See if I care."

She pulled his walkie from his pocket, and slipped it into her own jumpsuit before rolling off of him. He let out a loud, ever so exaggerated, cry.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded, rubbing his wrists where red marks had already formed around them. She bit her lip.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Oh really? You're sorry?!" he spat. "LaFleur'll have a field day when you get back!"

"Please, don't tell him."

"You expect me to lie after you nearly broke my neck just now?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Hardly."

He let out a derisive snort.

"Yeah? Well, tell that to my impending hernia!"

Leave it up to Miles to add a side dish of drama to an already tense situation.

"If I'd wanted to break your neck, I would have."

"Well, THAT," he pointed at her. "That's a real comfort, thanks Juliet! I'll be sure to pass that along to the DHARMA folks at the next town meeting."

For all of his sarcasm she did feel guilty. Over the past year they'd become allies, friends even. Jin, Miles and James, the most unlikely group of people to have ever met and band together. Yet, over time, they'd all turned into more than just collateral casualties of time travel. If there was anyone she could trust it should be Miles, but there was just too much at stake. If she told him about her plans, then he'd tell James, and that would lead to more questions, and then accusations. She might even have time to stop and think, rethink. She couldn't risk that.

But then, maybe; she could throw him some breadcrumbs, some food for thought to chew on. It would give her a reasonable head start.

"Come," she said, holding out her hand. He took it, albeit reluctantly; she pulled him to his feet.

"I'm going out there to find Richard."

"Eyeliner Tarzan?"

She shook her head, that was almost amusing.

"You've been spending too much time with James."

"Says you."

"Excuse me?"

"You think that Jin and I would think that all of those bumps in the night we hear is just your furniture coming to life and humping itself? Which by the way–" He froze, catching her impending look of doom.

"One more word, just one more", her eyes threatened.

He cleared his throat, inching a calculated step backward.

"Why do you need to talk to Richard?" he changed the subject.

"Miles," the threat not completely gone from her eyes. "Just make sure that James doesn't follow me."

"Can't stop that guy from doing anything he doesn't want to do. Or, well… technically, wants to do."

He sniggered, amused by his own disaster of a joke, and she took that opportunity to slip between the pillars; as expected the pylons remained compliantly oblivious to her frame. Thank God for small mercies.

"Then stall him!" she threw over her shoulder.

"Whatever!" he yelled after her.

No matter his tone, she trusted Miles to be discreet. None of them should want to be stupid enough to ever risk their cover being blown, and besides where else could they go? Everything depended upon them keeping up appearances. Miles would reactivate the fence the moment she'd gone, and even though he denied it now, he would lie for her; if only for a couple of hours.

She sprinted down the overgrown path, twigs and leaves already sticking to her jumpsuit.

She'd better find Richard soon.

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       The Jungle, July 1975      

When James had first asked her about eyeliner Benjamin Button, she hadn't quite known how to respond. Before the 815 crash, Ben had only ever referred to Richard as his advisor, or the island's intermediator.

To her, Richard had simply been the mysterious man who'd first recruited her, and then delivered her to Ben as would a postman a package. Afterwards she only ever saw him sporadically. He preferred to live with another group at the Temple, a remote place in the jungle that even the D.I. had had a hard time locating in their day. But whenever he wasn't at the Temple he would intermittently show up at the barracks carrying perfectly symmetrically folded pieces of parchment paper; "Orders from Jacob", Ben would say.

The first time she heard that name, she'd asked:

"Jacob? Who's Jacob?" Ben had been evasive at first, but clear in his reply "Jacob protects the island; he protects us."

What Jacob was protecting them from, he wouldn't say. Instead, Ben would often talk about vague miracles and electromagnetic energy. She soon found out that they all looked to Jacob as worshippers would to a deity. She looked to Ben a lot back then, as he seemed to hold most of the answers in that regard, but after a while he started to misinterpret her intentions, invading her privacy in a manner that reminded her of how Edmund used to corner her out of nowhere.

Alarm bells screeched ear damagingly loud; she distanced herself from Ben, and turned to the others instead. She asked Amelia about the DHARMA stations, Harper about the Initiative, Ethan about the Sonar Fence and the submarine, but it wasn't until she asked Goodwin about the strange noises in the night that she finally received a truthful answer. "I'll show you," he said. The following day he took her out into the jungle, where they both silently watched an immense pillar of black smoke rise up and down into the air, moving about like a creature out of a horror movie.

She stopped asking questions after that, realizing that whatever was going on on the island didn't abide by any of the natural laws of the universe that she'd been taught to acknowledge rationally. The revelation didn't deter her inquisitive mind, though. So, without permission, she started looking for answers elsewhere. She rummaged through poorly conserved documents, discovered secret underground passageways, and abandoned DHARMA stations; still, whatever had happened to the D.I. remained a mystery that even she couldn't solve on her own. It wasn't until Alex took her out into the jungle, after a particularly heated argument with her father, that Juliet was finally able to lay that question to rest. Against Ben's explicit orders, Alex had shown her a pit filled with twisted curiosities that turned out to be decomposing bodies in faded navy colored jumpsuits. With a start she realized that it was them, that they'd never left, and had been there all along, so close to the barracks.

Horrified she asked what had happened, Alex replied:

"My father."

Like a homesick child Juliet'd crawled into bed that night, craving her sister's comfort more than ever. As she closed her eyes, she imagined that melodic voice soothing her; the feel of familial arms protecting her from the monsters that used to live in her bedroom closet when she was a little girl. For a moment she was eight again, and her sister her protector.

For months, she'd clung to those memories like a drowning woman to air, and with each new burning breath she watched herself drift further from the shores of that longed for existence, until one day, the image on the horizon curved and her sister dropped from view completely.

By 2002, Ben had her bound to an unbreakable promise, a chain and ball shackled to her soul. Goodwin taught her how to mask her longings, tempering her burning desire for home. And while, like a parasite, Ben continued to try to worm his way into her heart, (often dropping by unannounced with wild flower bouquets and Belgium chocolate) she taught herself to carefully stave off his advances, until she could stave them off no more.

Between 2001 and 2004, she lost nine women to a nameless invader that dragged her to the edge of insanity. It left no traceable data for her to analyse, and for months, she ploughed waist deep through a disease filled swamp of misery and despair. She located its entrance into the body, she watched how it tore through her patients, and she knew when it killed, but she remained blind to where it housed. All she could determine with absolute certainty was that it was happening, and that there was nothing she could do about it. And while over time, the memories of those nine wounds turned into rough skinned scars, any thoughts that she might have had of Richard slipped through the cracks of her subconscious, not to resurface until 1974.

Who was eyeliner Benjamin Button? James's guess was as good as hers.

She returned her attention to the road ahead, where she'd been trampling through bramble bushes, and wadding through clear water brooks for the past hour. She made sure to keep her estimated guess of the Temple's location on her right, while taking careful stock of her surroundings on her left, moving about with extreme stealth; the way she'd been taught to move about by them. It had become second nature to her now, like falling down and standing back up. But then, so had lying, cheating and manipulating her way out of impossible situations. There were moments, like these, when that realization hit her hard. She hadn't always been like this. In fact, she wasn't anything like the woman she used to know. That person had had morals, integrity, and no backbone whatsoever. It seemed like decades ago, but it had only been four short years since she'd last behaved like Edmund's string puppet, a lapdog with no discernible purpose. Not anymore. She'd learned her lessons the hard way: to lead or to be led, to harm or to be harmed, and to kill or to be killed.

She looked up, the wind had changed; she was close now. As another minute past she caught soft whispers, the kind that used to include hers. Pots clinging together, the crackle of a midday fire, the swishing of fabric, hands clapping, laughter. She stepped closer: shouting, more laughter; the careless rustle and bustle of people living their lives.

She could see them now, and for a moment she watched them from behind overgrown bushes. She crouched closer, twigs bending under the weight of her fingertips, but not snapping. She was more careful than that.

To her surprise, she recognized a lone woman next to a boiling cauldron that stood perched in the middle of the camp. A young Amelia. Pensively, she stirred the pot, cooking what smelled like a mixture of island vegetables and boar meat. A little to her left a young girl sat crossed legged in front of a boy, playing a clapping game. She couldn't quite make out their faces, but she briefly wondered about their names, if she knew them –would know them. There were more people, young and old. Some she recognised, others that had either died or left long before her arrival. Also, more children that would grow up to be vague acquaintances or book club participants.

She suppressed the urge to flee, deterring the heart racing expectation that foreshadowed her presence; the image powerful enough to change her mind. She rose slowly, then stepped out into the open with bold determination, her hands held high up above her head, one foot in front of the other. It was a stupid move. They were unpredictable and much more dangerous than their future counterparts.

She took another step closer, a branch snapped in two. Their reaction immediate: eyes turned on her at an inhuman speed, silence muzzled the buoyant atmosphere. Various threatening clicks snapped into place, weapons balanced high upon army trained arms. She counted five men swiftly closing in on her.

"Who are you?!" one yelled.

Why are you breaking the truce?" another demanded.

She turned to look at each of them, he wasn't among them.

"I need to speak to the person in charge."

They laughed; the echoes of their derisive mirth pressing down on her courage.

"I don't think you're in any position to be making demands, lady."

She really wasn't, but that didn't stop her from staring down a very young Tom Friendly. He couldn't be much older than twenty-five. Once, her superior in age and status, now her junior in years as well as knowledge. This was strange. Would he recognise her 26 years from now? Was that why he'd always been so nice to her? Because he knew?

"Stand down!" a rough accented voice suddenly cut through the group. Every face in the clearing turned, but Juliet had a hard time tearing her eyes away from Tom.

She'd never meant for him to die. If only she could warn him somehow, forge a connection through time and prevent a bad future outcome from coming to pass. "Whatever happened, happened", Daniel's voice thundered through her mind. Did her Tom know that she was the one who would end up digging his grave? Young Tom's riffle pointed straight at her, would he be the one digging hers? Would it come full circle, right here? Right now?

"What have we here?"

She forced her eyes away. A woman, roughly her own age and similar in looks, approached the group.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Juliet blinked, confused, her mind half on Tom still.

"Where's Richard?" she blurt out.

The woman sniggered.

"Richard? What makes you think he'd want to speak to the likes of you?" affirming whispers, and nodding figures stepped up behind the woman.

"He'd want to know I'm here."

"He'd want to know you are here?"

Their amusement peaked.

"And what, pray tell, makes a DHARMA puppet such as yourself so special that Richard'd want to know?"

DHARMA puppet? She hadn't heard that one before. But if evidence was what they wanted, then she had nothing to worry about. They seared it onto her skin for a reason, after all.

"Check my back," she said.

"What?"

"My lower back, check it."

The woman's expression shifted, a concoction of amusement and disdain spawning forth some mild interest that stretched to the curving of her brows.

She looked at Tom.

"You heard the woman,"she shrugged. "Check her back, Tom."

Tom nodded.

"Unzip," he demanded.

Juliet compliantly pulled her jumpsuit down to her waist, revealing a white tank top underneath; with the barrel of his rifle Tom pushed the fabric up, and as the mark that lay seared upon her skin sprung into view, the tension in the air shifted once more.

Sharp intakes of breath seemed to suck the oxygen straight from the surrounding trees, travelling all around and down the wide clearing.

"Who gave that to you?" the woman asked, turning a whiter shade of pale as her eyes darted from Tom to the others.

"Let me talk to Richard first," Juliet repeated.

"Who gave you that mark?!"

"I'll tell Richard!" she countered.

"Tell me!"

"No!"

Her eyes darkened, and before Juliet could comprehend what happened next Tom had already slammed the butt of his rifle into her lower back. With a loud cry she crashed to her knees, rough hands pulled her up by her hair, and as the pain shot through her head and down her back it was hard to focus; the feeling similar to that of hundred needles sticking through her skull all at once. She looked up, the butt of another riffle hanging suspended in mid-air, aimed straight at her stomach. Reflexively she put her arms out, protecting that which she couldn't stand to lose.

"No! Stop!" she begged, her voice hoarse. "I'm pregnant!"

The man hesitated, his rifle poised, held back only by sheer doubt. He looked to the woman in charge.

"I'm one of you!" Juliet cried out, anger temporarily casting out all rational thought.

The woman motioned for the others to stand down, and Juliet heavily dropped to the ground, her heart hammering against her ribcage at a painful speed. She couldn't be sure of what she would have done if the man hadn't hesitated, but she sure as hell knew that the outcome wouldn't have been in his favor.

"You're no more one of us than any traitor who bears that mark will ever be again."

"At least it shows that at some point, I was one of you," she wheezed.

"A fleur-de-lis is hardly an original mark."

"Yet," she took in a painfully slow, but controlled breath. "This design is unique, and you know it."

The woman's upper lip quivered, extreme agitation forming around the corners of her mouth.

"Richard!" she called, never breaking eye-contact.

It was then that Juliet recognised her, the intense icy blues, the thick British accent. This had to be the famed Eloise Hawking. For some reason she'd always pictured her to be taller, and broader. The type of woman who enjoyed deer hunting and hammer throwing on early Sunday mornings right before dawn broke through the night. She'd imagined a wild tempered shark. But this? No. Not this. Eloise was slim, petite even, moving about with the same grace as a proud lioness. A hunter by nature, always with her pride in mind, nothing like a shark. Yet, the lines about her eyes mirrored Juliet's own mask, hiding an intense past filled with contradictions. Maybe, in another life, they would have been friends.

"Who's this?"

Richard appeared as summoned, popping into view like a genie out of a bottle. He looked exactly the same. He always looked the same. They locked eyes, and Juliet felt a shiver run down her spine. Bizarre, just bizarre.

"She bears the mark," Eloise barked. "How can she bear the mark?"

Richard looked confused, not quite comprehending what Eloise was referring to, but as he studied Juliet there lay sudden recognition in his eyes. It betrayed a thought, as though he'd been waiting for something like this to happen.

"What mark?"

"Our fleur-de-lis."

He stepped closer, Tom lifted Juliet's top again, stepping even closer Richard bend down, lightly touching the mark, his fingers cold on her skin.

"How is this possible?" he asked, looking up at Tom.

The young man stammered, but Richard shook his head, and waved him away.

"Where did you get this?" he said, for the first time really looking at her. "This is a very particular mark. Who gave this to you?"

"Jacob," she lied.

"What did you say?" a slow staccato punctuated each word.

"I want to talk to Jacob."

He studied her closely, his eyes burning holes into her skin. He knew more, much, much more.

"Take her to my tent," he ordered.

"What are you doing?" Eloise demanded.

"I need to talk to this woman in private."

"That's against the rules of the truce!"

"Jacob wants it so."

"How in the hell–"

"Eloise!" Richard cut off. "Trust me."

Juliet was sure that if Eloise had had fangs Richard surely would have fallen victim to her seething rage by now. But she stood her ground, respecting the wishes of a deity whose existence she probably had to take on faith as much as Ben had had to.

Firm hands guided her past Eloise, and the woman gave her one last foul look in passing.

Once inside Richard motioned for her to sit, then turned to the men behind her.

"Leave us," he ordered.

"I don't think–"

"I really don't care what you think, Brian. Leave us, now!"

Brian muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, but did as told, motioning for the other man to follow suit.

"What's your name?" Richard asked, once they'd left.

"My name?"

"Yes, you have one, I trust?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well?"

"Juliet."

"Last name?"

"Carlson."

"Carlson?" he frowned.

"Burke," she corrected. "Look, I–"

"Juliet Burke," Richard continued.

She stopped, rendered somewhat speechless by the interruption and this strange obsession with her name.

"You know what's funny, Juliet?"

Richard turned around, and sat down on the cot in front of her; the bed creaking beneath his weight as he pensively leaned forward on his arms.

"Two days ago, Jacob appeared to me," she sat up straighter; a pounding pain shooting through her back; she ignored it.

"He told me the strangest thing. Jacob said, that in a couple of days time, I should expect a woman by the name of Juliet Burke to come striding straight through the jungle into our camp, demanding to see him."

She stared, unmoved.

"Exactly, like you did just now," he paused. "Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

"I don't know what to tell you," she said, chilled by the thought of predestination. Although, by now she'd learned that there really was no such thing as a linear passage of time. She was living proof of that.

"No, I didn't think you would. But Jacob gave me a note," from his chest pocket he pulled a perfectly symmetrically folded piece of parchment paper, her name written in the centre in indelible ink, Jacob's ink.

She reached for it, but Richard held onto it, forcing her to look up to where his eyes met hers.

"I'm to go with you," he said.

"Go where?"

"Wherever it is you plan on going."

He let go of the note.

With trembling fingers, she unfolded it.

Jacob's message was short, poetic even:

"You may leave, But only once.     Return,     and you are     to stay.     

Choose wisely, Juliet.     

Richard will show you the way."      

        - Jacob     

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A/N: I know it took me a while to get this chapter up! I'm sorry! I always try to be as detailed and coherent as possible in my writing, and this one took a lot of time to figure out. I love writing from Juliet's POV, though! She's so incredibly complex, and I wanted to bring that to live more in this chapter. Hope it shows!

I decided to change the title of the story, because I just wasn't happy with it. I personally think that this new title does the story more justice; I just hope that changing it didn't make it too hard for you guys to find the story again. I promise, the title won't change again. This is it.

I also wanted to respond to the Guest who left a review on this story on ff.

First of all, thank you so much for your kind and encouraging words. I hope you'll continue to enjoy this story, and I truly appreciate the kind of detailed review that you left! I always love to hear what goes on in the minds of those who read my stories. Thank you for that! And also, yes the summary might give away a bit much, but it also only reveals the tip of the iceberg of what I've got in mind for this story! The true purpose of the summary was to create an expectation. I'm actually very curious to know what you think it means! But all in all, even if it means what you think it means, there's a lot more to it than just that one storyline/chapter. Ha! I hope I'm making sense!

Anyway, thank you all for reading this story. Hope to see you again in the next chapter!

[sunlitblue]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before (3)

and here’s part three! sorry, this part doesn’t have too much plot stuff, but that’s only bc the next one is gonna be pretty exciting. thank you to everyone who’s been giving this story love, you’re all angels. enjoy! <3 (also i’m still figuring out some of the plot of this, so message me w your theories on who sent the letters or send me memes u think race would tag you in!) 

part 1 / part 2 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8

The next day, you stayed at school a little late, figuring you could catch Race after track practice to discuss your… arrangement. It also had the added benefit of allowing you to avoid Jack, who you knew was spending most afternoons at the community theatre across town, helping them paint backdrops for an upcoming show.

 (You weren’t stalking him, or memorising his schedule, or anything. You were just observant. You took note of behaviour. That was it.)

 Race was on his last lap around the track when he saw you sitting on the bleachers. You gave him a little wave and his face lit up with a smile. He winked and kept on running. When he was done, and presumably back in the locker room, your phone pinged with four rapid texts from an unknown number.

 hey babe I’m just showering and then I’ll come see you ;)

this is race btw

i’m really good at texting like a boyfriend

fake or otherwise

Even though he couldn’t see you, you rolled your eyes anyway.

 Yeah, okay hotshot

Come find me on the bleachers when you’re ready

When Race showed up, with a red face and wet, curly hair he gave you a cheeky grin, looked around to see some of the track team boys were still milling around, and he placed a quick peck on your cheek. You didn’t let yourself blush, remembering that it was all for show, and you pulled up a Word document on your laptop.

“Okay, so, this is going to be our contract,” you said, preparing yourself for his teasing.

“We have a contract? This isn’t Suits, man. It’s a fake relationship. We don’t need a contract!” 

“Uh, we so do need a contract, Higgins! We need to draw boundaries and limits and we need to stick to them.”

 He rolled his eyes and moved a little nearer to you on the bench, so that he could see your laptop screen.

 “Wow, nothing like a list of comprehensive rules and guidelines to really bring the romance, huh?”

 “Fake-romance,” you corrected him.

 “Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, what’s first on the contract?”

 “Okay, first up, no kissing.”

 He spluttered comically for a bit.

 “No kissing? How are we supposed to convince anyone that we’re dating if we can’t kiss?”

 “Look, plenty of couples avoid PDA. We can still, like, link pinkies or whatever.”

 “Link pinkies? Wha-? Are you living in the 80s? This isn’t Grease, babe.”

 “Look, Race, physical stuff may not mean anything to you, but it’s important to me, okay?”

 “Whoever said physical stuff didn’t matter to me?”, he muttered under his breath. But, after a moment he sighed. “Fiine, put it on the contract.

 You typed it up and looked expectantly at him.

“Okay, you get no kissing, but, number two, you have to hang out with me and my friends at lunch and come to parties with me.”

“Technically, that’s two and three. And, I get parties, but why lunch?”

He stared at the ground.

“Spot always sat with us at lunch, so he’d definitely notice if you were with me and the guys.”

“Fair enough.”

You typed that, and then said, “Also, we cannot tell anyone that this is fake. Gossip spreads like wildfire at this school so nobody can know that this isn’t a real relationship. Not even Albert, or your track team buddies.”

“Obviously. And don’t act like I can’t keep secrets. You can’t tell Davey or Katherine. I had journalism with her last year and I’m pretty sure that she would disapprove of this plan.”

He was right, of course he was.

“Fine, deal. Anything else?”

“Oh! You have to come with me on the ski trip trip in December,” he said triumphantly.

Your high school’s annual ski trip was infamous for being the weekend when most of your school lost their virginity. Some schools had the night after prom, but your school had two days and a night spent in the mountains.

“The ski trip? As in the one just before Christmas break? We’d have to stay together for three months to go on that.”

“Listen, no one in a relationship would ever let their boyfriend go on that trip alone. And, if we’ve gotta keep up until then, then so be it. Spot will definitely be there, so he’ll notice if I’m with someone else. We can break up after the trip, no harm, no foul.”

“Okay, fine. But we will not be sharing a room.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Anything else you want me to add, oh wise one?” you asked.

“Uh, well, there is this one thing,” he said, sounding a little hesitant. You motioned for him to go on. “Well, Spot always thought it would be cute if I wrote him little letters and put them in his locker or gave them to him, or whatever, and I never did it. Um, if he saw me giving those to you, he’d probably get pretty jealous.”

“Badass Spot Conlon, who would beat up anyone who looked at him wrong wanted love letters? That’s so cute!”

“Yeah, there’s a lot more to him than just being angry and bitchy. I bet he’s got his college boyfriend writing him all sorts of letters now,” Race scoffed.

“He left you for a college guy? That’s rough, Race. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, its whatever,” Race quickly said. “So, that’s the contract, then?”

“Yeah,” you said, satisfied.

“Perfect,” he grinned, and his blue eyes were twinkling again.

“You do know that you missed the bus today, right?” he said, after a moment.

“Uh, yeah, I was just gonna walk home.”

“Holy shit, what is it with you and walking? Do you not have your license?”

“Uh, I do. But driving terrifies me and I’d probably end up killing someone – or myself – if I drove every day. But, yeah, I don’t mind walking.”

“Well, if you’re dating me, there will be no walking. I’ll give you a lift home and a ride to school in the morning, if you want one.”

“Are you serious? You don’t need to do that, Race.”

“Nah, I want to. What kind of fake-boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

He smiled at you and you realised that Race had been right the day before. You could do worse. As far as fake high school boyfriends went, Race was probably one of the best options you had.

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks, Higgins.”

“No biggie. Now, let’s go. The Bachelorette is on tonight and I need to see who Becca chooses.”

Before long, Race had dropped you off at home, with a cheeky wink and promise to text. As soon as you were inside, your phone lit up with a message from him.

see ya bright and early tomorrow morning, girlfriend ;)

You rolled your eyes and typed a quick reply. Then, you went to contacts and your hand hovered over Katherine’s name. You’d have to tell her what had happened with Jack and explain that you were now (somehow) dating Race Higgins.

The phone rang twice, and you could practically hear the smile in her voice when she greeted you, as bright and cheerful as ever. You talked for a little bit about school and she told you about college and you realised that you probably couldn’t put it off for any longer. As soon as you said that you had something to tell her, she sounded more than a little worried.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“This story is going to sound pretty weird but hear me out. You know when I was little, I used to write those letters to myself?”

“Yeah, you said that your mom told you to do it if you ever needed help figuring out your feelings.”

“Yeah, well, not all of the letters were to myself. I wrote some to guys I had crushes on and I swear that I never sent any of them out, but, um, somehow, some of those guys, got their letters?”

“Oh, shit. That sounds stressful. Who’d you write to?”

“That’s the thing that I need to tell you… When you first got with Jack, I thought that I was into him and I wrote him a letter. I was never going to send and I’m pretty sure I didn’t actually have feelings for him, I was just a little torn up because it felt like I was losing my best friend to my sister. But, uh, he got the letter. And, I figured that I should tell you before you heard it from someone else. And, also, uh, Race Higgins and I are dating.” The last sentence slipped out so quickly that you hoped she had missed it.

She was silent for a long time and you were worried that the phone might have died while you were talking and then, you heard a sigh.

“That is… a lot. I’m not going to lie, I am pretty pissed off right now. I don’t care if you were into Jack or not. You wrote a love letter to my boyfriend, while I was dating him. And Race Higgins? Like Spot’s Race Higgins? What the fuck? Look, I’ve got a report due tomorrow, and I really don’t need to be stressed right now, so we can just talk about this some other time.”

She was definitely mad.

“Kath, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you, I swear.”

“It’s fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

She hung up. It was not fine. You felt like crying and crumpling yourself into a ball, when your phone pinged with a notification from Instagram.

@racehiggins tagged you in a post.

It was some stupid meme, and you knew he’d only tagged you in it because people from school would see it, but it brought a smile to your face, anyway.

Race was getting pretty good at making you smile, and you hadn’t even been fake-dating for a week. Maybe, this would all work out well.

TAGLIST: @hungoverhellhound @seriously-ceci @the-butterfly-anon @ben-cook-can-cook @pinecovewoods @brendonuriehimself

[peaches-of-1]

RENT AU

This is queued for Dec 24th 9PM EST. You’re welcome. The cast is as follows.

Mark: Hui

Roger: E’Dawn

Mimi: Hyuna

Tom Collins: Namjoon

Angel: Key*

Joanne: Maman

Maureen: Hwasa

Benny: CubeEnt- Park Choongmin

A/N: In the show, the character Angel is referenced to with mostly female pronouns. To keep with the pronouns of both Angel and Key I will use he/him as well as she/her to reference the part.

The full moon was high in the sky. It had been so cold this winter that the power had been going out often from being frozen and all sorts of water damage. It was hell especially for Hui and E’Dawn who technically weren’t even supposed to be living where they were living. Outside, a small tent city had sprung up in the lot next to the old publishing factory. It was freezing even with the tin trash can filled with found logs and discarded planks or their “illegal wood burning stove” as Dawnie liked to call it. Things were fine, their good friend Choongmin had told them it was fine to live there without rent since they were so close. Then again, E’Dawn was his stage name. He hadn’t been using it a lot recently because he wasn’t really on stage that often.

Hui had gotten into video making and used his phone as well as an old video camera to capture the footage he needed. He turned the camera to himself.

“Um, December 24th, 9pm. Korean Standard Time, from here on in, I shoot without a script. See if anything comes of it instead of my old shit.”

Since all his scripted stuff hadn’t gone over well with several dozen failed videos that were taking down due to copyright infringement when everything was from his own mind. It just so happened to be eerily similar to some script a kid wrote when they were in elementary school. Hui had never read it, but whatever. He turned the camera to his roomie and best friend E’Dawn who commonly went by Hyojong.

“First shot, Hyojong, tuning the Fender guitar he hasn’t played in a year.”

“It won’t tune” The blonde and brown rooted babe said.

In return, Hui teased, “So we hear. He’s just coming back after half a year of withdrawal.”

“You talking to me?” He began to look up with his death stare.

His silver haired friend turned his phone to a different direction, “Not at all…” He turned it back to his friend, trying to get a close up. “Are you ready?” He asked to Hyojong who didn’t answer because he knew his friend was like this.

He held the focus steady and got a good shot of his downturned head, “Tell the folks at home what you’re doing, Hyojong.”

“I’m writing one great song--”

The phone rang. The old camera was recording from its table without anyone’s knowledge, but Hui paused his phone. “SPEAK” it was the sound of their answering machine. Someone was calling? Who the heck could it be?

It was Hui’s mother. She wanted to tell her son how much she loved them. From the background, he heard screams and giggles and someone else call her mom. She then said that his step sister and her kids sent their love. His mother then went on to remind him not to leave the hot plate she sent him on whenever they left the house. Then came the final blow.

“Oh, and Hwitaek, we’re sorry to hear that Hwasa dumped you. I say c’est la vie, so let her be a lesbian! There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Love you, mom~!”

Hyojong pat his buddy on the back at the mention of the past relationship. Hui rolled his eyes and waited for his mom to hang up before starting where he left off. As soon as the blonde began to speak once more, the phone rang again.

“SPEAK!”

A lovely deep voice came from the receiver, “Chestnuts roasting~”

Excitedly, Hui rushed the phone, “Namjoon!

“I’m downstairs!” The man in a snow white beanie said to whoever was listening.

He picked it up, “Hey!”

“E’Dawn-hyung picked up the phone?”

“Nah, it’s me.”

Namjoon nodded, “Throw me the key.”

His older friend smiled at the thought of seeing his friend again and threw the key out the window knowing his friend would catch it, “A wild night is now preordained.”

Hyojong continued trying to tune his guitar in the background. Namjoon smiled but soon his face turned to fear as he saw some of the neighborhood thugs start to approach him.

“I may be detained.” He hung up quickly.

“What does that mean, detained?” The phone rang again, and Hui put the phone to where both him and his roomie could hear. Thinking it was their friend again he asked, “What’d you mean, detained?”

Instead a snarky, “Ho ho ho.” came through the phone.

“Choongmin!” They were excited until Hui put the phone to his chest and then they revealed the truth by saying. “Shit!”

They didn’t like Choongmin, or Minnie as they called him despite the man being a few years older than the both of them.

“Dudes, I’m on my way!” He sounded like he was in his car...a sparkling white Range Rover nonetheless. He had taken a vacation recently.

“Great!” They looked each other in the eyes. “Fuck.”

“I need the rent.” Minnie switched his phone to the other side.

They were confused and asked what rent he could possibly be talking about. He said it was the past year’s rent which he “let slide.” Hui called him out on his bullshit saying that it wasn’t that he let it slide, he said that they didn’t have to. Hyojong reminded him it was when he bought the building. Hui reminded him that they were roommates even though he now treated the two of them like dirt.

“Remember, you lived here?” E’Dawn asked.

Choongmin chuckled, “How could I forget? You, me, Dawnie, and Hwasa.” Then he asked about the soulful diva.

Hui mentioned her show tonight and Minnie said he already knew. He asked if the glasses wearing boy was still her so called production manager. He was...until two days ago. When asked if they were still together, it was revealed that they had been broken up for over a month now. Hyojong pulled the phone over to say that Hwasa was now in love with someone else. Their hyung was surprised to hear that she was already dating someone new and asked the man’s name.

It wasn’t a man’s name per say, it was Maman. A woman.

Another chuckle, “Rent, my friends, is due, or I’ll have to evict you. See you soon.” He said as his black haired lover showed up in the bedroom of her husband in blue lingerie. He hung up.

Hyojung began to play again as his friend hung up. Hui began recording once more. Suddenly the Fender stopped working. Of course. The power blows just as he’s getting to record again. It’s too dark right now, and people from the whole block would be looking for some place to stay or something to steal for a bit of cash. Attention turned from making the next groundbreaking documentary to securing what few important things they had before they were taken.

“How do you document real life when real life’s getting more like fiction each day?” the silver haired man asked. “Headlines, breadlines, and now this deadline. ‘Eviction or pay’?”

E’Dawn decided to jump in and complain about how he no longer had any inspiration for his writing, “How can you write a song when the notes sound wrong though they once sounded right and rare? When the notes are sour where is the power you once had to ignite the air?”

They were hungry and frozen and this was the life they had chosen. Some life, huh? But they had no jobs. No source of income. How were they supposed to pay a whole year of rent to their backstabbing buddy? Hui decided to light candles. Hyojong decided to look something that could be put into their “woodburning stove” when there was no wood in sight. Not much was in sight, but they knew their apartment inside and out. There had to be something. A chill ran down the songwriter’s spine.

“How can you generate heat when you can’t feel your feet and they’re turning blue?”

Hyojong found his old flyers, “You light up a mean blaze with posters!”

“And screenplays!” Hui added his own failed works to the trash bin which his friend flicked a match into.

The two boys couldn’t even afford a lighter. How were they supposed to afford that rent?

Maman was at the lot where her girlfriend would be performing trying to figure out how to get the microphone to work. Especially the reverb at a certain volume. It shocked her and she jumped back. Out of frustration, the light brown haired woman stood up and called her lovely...though sometimes unfaithful girlfriend Hwasa.

“Hey, darling. Did you eat?”

She instantly tried to change the subject. It was obvious that she hadn’t.

“But, darling, you haven’t eaten all day.”

Hwasa was worried about puking on stage and that was why she didn’t dare eat anything before her performance.

“You won’t throw up~ you won’t throw up!”

She sighed and said that she’d get a some ramyun or something. However, she did then ask how things were doing with the reverb.

Her girlfriend bit her lip nervously, “The digital delay didn’t blow up exactly~ There may have been one teensy, tiny, spark.”

“I’ll just call Hui then. He’s really good with this stuff.”

If there was one things among many other things Maman couldn’t stand was how that every time something digital or technical didn’t work, she’d want to call her ex. He was an ex for a reason. She was Hwasa’s significant other now, not that scarf wearing loser! Though they had never met, Maman’s lovely girlfriend always talked about the scarf she got him before they broke up. Never saying why they ended things in the first place. She had her ideas, though.

“You’re not calling Hui!”

~~~~

With only is coat sleeve left on his right arm, Namjoon wondered how people could survive in a world like this when every day was lived through random chance. Good or bad. Today was his bad luck of the draw since he had been beaten up and left in the cold once the thugs had taken his only coat. He already didn’t own much, and now this? Joon tried to get somewhere for help, but who would even help someone like him?

“Welcome back to town!” was how things should’ve gone. His head spun. “I should lie down. Everything’s brown and uh-oh. I feel sick!” He turned to puke on the nearest surface which happened to be a gutter.

“Where is he?” Hui asked as he threw another script page into the flames, wondering where his friend had gone after the key had been thrown down.

Namjoon was real dizzy and needed to rest. He couldn’t get help if he were dead. Maybe things would be better that way. No, no. He had to kept moving no matter how much his injuries hurt everytime he struggled to take a breath.

~~~~

Dawnie got the last of his flyers and posters from the wall wanting the fire to last as long as possible even though it probably wouldn’t even last the next hour. There was no way they could do anything to pay the rent they supposedly owed to their now holier than thou ex roommate.

On the street, Key hugged Hyuna tightly even kissing her cheek and giving her some of the cash he had just gotten from a job. He was going to his regular spot by the huge Christmas tree in the park to play on his bucket for cash. It was like a drum for him and sometimes even better offers came by. As soon as he left, Hyuna ran into her ex Choongmin and instead of actually talking to him, she darted in the other direction. She didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

He was on the phone with his wife anyways, looking for his car now that he was done playing with one of his many mistresses. He wasn’t sure if that was his ex Hyuna or if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

“Allison, baby, oh you sound sad.” But he ignored her quiet sobs and continued complaining about his own problems. “I can’t believe those two after everything I’ve done. Ever since our wedding, I’m dirt. They’ll see. I can help them all out in the long run.”

~~~~

Hui recorded the flames as more paper was thrown into it. Maman said that she wasn’t a theatre person and would never be a theatre person like her ex had been. That’s just how things were and if she couldn’t except it then--

Instead of listening to her most precious toy gripe about not being what she needed her to be, Hwasa called up Hui to sweetly ask if he’d help her set up her microphone for the show later tonight. Even though he said no the first time, he quickly said yes after she called him his favorite nickname.

“Ok, alright, I’ll go!” He said and hung up. Then Hui started looking for his coat.

There was just so much wrong with the world right now. Their personal situations didn’t help either. They were broke. Nothing they had tried to do prior even worked. Why were they even here? The stress was overwhelming when the raging, shifting winds of change kept ripping away at the fabric that was life.

“What do we do to combat...this?”

“Draw a line in the sand and then make a stand.” Minnie’s voice rang in their heads.

“Use your camera to spar.” Hyojung suggested.

Hui loved that camera too much, so he said, “Use your guitar.”

It felt like the world was screaming at them, “When they act tough, you call their bluff!”

They then decided they weren’t gonna pay that damn rent. They didn’t owe him a damn thing after the way he’d been treating them. They didn’t owe anyone but themselves and there was nothing to owe themselves as far as they saw. Not last year’s rent, not this year’s rent, and sure as hell not last year’s rent. Hell, everything was rent.

On the street once more, a homeless man was singing to himself, “Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are ringing…” He looked around and scoffed. “Not here.” And held out his hand to a passerby who might have some change to spare.

He ignored the achy Namjoon holding his stomach and stifling his moans of agony. In his fuzzy brain, he knew he was trying to get to somewhere familiar after being dragged away and running but not escaping. He just couldn’t remember where exactly. Key was beating his bucket drum though he hadn’t gotten much money tonight. The holiday season was about giving, but not many people thought it applied to them.

It sounded like someone was in pain, so he stopped. Silence except for a few sirens in the distance. Then Key began to play again and saw him...an injured man with a torn beanie holding his stomach or his arm. He didn’t look so good. Then again, no one on these streets rarely did.

Key judged the situation and decided to ask, “Are you ok, honey?”

“I’m afraid so.” He joked weakly.

“They get any money?” He had probably been mugged.

Namjoon scoffed, “Had none to get. But they purloined my coat.” He held up the only remaining piece of it and screamed in the general direction of his attackers. “Well they missed a sleeve!”

Key jumped down from where he was playing with his bucket to get a closer look at the attractive stranger, handing him a rag to dab at his wounds. Namjoon thanked him.

“Hell, it’s Christmas Eve!” He sat down on his bucket while Joon struggled to tie the rag around his injury. “I’m Angel.” Key said, giving his stage name in case he turned out to be wrong about this guy.

“Angel~” Namjoon repeated.

When he looked at the stranger, his eyes grew. Angel was so god damn beautiful. Namjoon had never seen a man so attractive. He looked at him again and smiled.

“Indeed.” He licked his lips and lowered his glasses. “An angel of the first degree. Friends call me Joon, Namjoon.”

The lights of the tree came on since it was now dark enough for them to be seen in their full beauty. It was as if a halo of light surrounded the two men. Angel. Angels were blessing this very meeting between Key and Namjoon. The two looked at the Christmas lights in sync and smiled at the splendor.

Namjoon spoke up, “Nice tree.”

Key smiled and launched into his plan since Namjoon seemed like a good guy, and he obviously needed help.

“Let’s get a Band-Aid for your knee. I’ll change. I’ve got a life support meeting at 9:30.” Catching himself he explained. “Yes this body provides a comfortable home for the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome.”

“As does mine.” Joon admitted.

He was surprised, “We’ll get along fine. Get you a coat, have a bit, make a night.” The chipper man grabbed Namjoon’s and took him along to help with the healing process, maybe get some meds. “I’m flush.”

The younger man was happy to go along with it, but then he remembered he was supposed to meet with Hui and E’Dawn, “My friends are waiting…” He tried to say.

Instead, Key looked at him, “You’re cute when you blush. The more the merry, ho ho ho~” and booped his squat nose. “And I do not take no.”

He continued to pull along a limping Namjoon. Despite the pain he felt all over his body, the injured man smiled at the hope of being treated so well by a complete stranger. The fact that this stranger was so very handsome didn’t add to the pain, either. He’d get to his friends sooner or later.

Hyojong moved an empty bucket under the hole in the ceiling and when he turned around, he saw Hui with his warmest and least torn up jacket in his hands.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

To which Hui replied, “Hwasa calls.”

The musician scoffed, “You’re such a sucker.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to see her show at the lot tonight or come to dinner? “ He held out his friend’s leather jacket.

“Zoom in on my empty wallet.” Hyojong made the movement with his hand and picked up his guitar once more.

“Touche.” The he reminded his friend, “Take your AZT.”

Close on Hyojong, his girlfriend Jieun left a note saying “We’ve got AIDS” before slitting her wrists in the bathroom. He hadn’t been the same since then. Still, he did as told and took the pills that held off his illness for another day.

As he set the leather jacket on the table, Hui said, “Check up on you later. If you change your mind...you have to get out of the house.”

The blonde turned around without replying and began tuning his guitar once more, black painted fingernails picking at the strings. His friend sighed and left the house, sliding the door open and letting it close with a thud that resonated deeply within Hyojong.

“I’m writing one great song before I…” He couldn’t help playing the familiar tune his fingers went to whenever he thought of her. Whenever he tried to play anything else, it just didn’t sound good. He growled in frustration and put his guitar down.

What did he want?

One song. Glory. One song before I go. Glory. One song to leave behind. He wanted to find one song, one last refrain. Glory from the pretty boy front man who wasted opportunity.

He remembered one song that had the world at his feet and caused glory in the eyes of a young girl. A young girl. Everyone was chanting his name, “E’Dawn! E’Dawn! E’Dawn!” but that wasn’t how things were anymore. Now he had to find glory beyond the cheap colored lights one song before the sun sets.

Glory on another empty life.

“Time flies.” He said to himself. “Time dies! Glory!”

One blaze of glory. One blaze of glory. Glory!

“Find glory the song that reigns true. Truth like a blazing fire.” He hovered his fingers above the illegal woodburning stove. “An eternal flame. Find one song...A song about love.”

Glory from the soul of a young man. A young man. He had to find the one song before the virus takes hold. Glory like a sunset. One song to redeem this empty life he had made.

Still, he had it in his head that time flies and then there would be no need to endure anymore. That time dies since time didn’t matter without her.

A knock on the door broke Hyojong out of his memories. It was probably Hui having left something behind.

As he opened the door, the man asked, “What’d you forget?”

Hyojong wasn’t expecting to see a young girl with fire for hair and bright red lips. She had on a white crop top and ripped jeans. There was a army green shawl or something draped on her shoulders as well. He had to blink.

“Got a light?” She asked.

He let her in and looked for his box of matches, “I know you. You’re shiving.”

To which she replied, “It's nothing, they turned off my heat and I'm just a little weak on my feet. Would you light my candle?” She held it out to him and then raised an eyebrow. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing, uh your hair in the moonlight?” He tried to play it off and struck a match to light the white candle she held. “You look familiar.”

She got a bit wobbly while walking to the door, and so he reached out to catch her, letting their eyes lock for just a moment. “Can you make it?”

The girl nodded and sashayed over to the window, “Just haven't eaten much today at least the room stopped spinning, anyway. What?” She caught his gaze once more.

Hyojong quickly looked away, “Nothing...your smile reminded me of--”

“I always remind people of…” The red head rolled her eyes. “Who is she?”

“She died, her name was Jieun.”

Not wanting to talk about it, the girl blew out the candle and held it out to the blonde stranger, “It's out again. Sorry about your friend. Would you light my candle?”

And so he did, this time the light flickered right between their faces making her eyes glow even more than before in their innocent yet mischievously charming way. He wanted to say something but not much came to mind as the mutual gazing continued.

“Well…”

“Yeah?” She tilted her head before pulling one of her hands back. “Ow!”

Getting nervous, Hyojong said, “Oh, the wax, it's--”

“Dripping!” The girl started to slide her legs up the middle of his, slowly as he said, “I like it between my…”

He pulled away, blushing, “Fingers, I figured..Oh, well, goodnight.”

Hyojong realized he had been holding his breath the entire time and finally allowed himself to exhale once the door was closed. However, the door closing had made the light go out once more, and so she knocked on the door.

“It blew out again?” He chuckled, slightly frowning when she came in without even glancing at him.

“No, I think that I dropped my stash.” She searched the ground with her eyes.

So Hyojong let her look as he leaned against the table, trying to recall why he recognized her, “I know I've seen you out and about...When I used to go out.” He pointed. “Your candle's out.”

She sighed at her candlestick and while retracing her steps, “I'm illin', I had it when I walked in the door. It was pure. Is it on the floor?”

The woman got on the ground using her hands and knees to look under the table, and the way her curves filled out the tight jeans she was wearing…

“The floor?” Hyojong repeated as he couldn’t even try to remove his eyes from her form.

She smirked and chuckled, “They say that I have the best ass below 14th Street, is it true?” She said with a little hip wiggle.

“What?”

“You're staring again.” She beamed with another eyebrow raise.

He began to blush and his eyes frantically looked not at her, “Oh no, I mean you do, have a nice--I mean.You look familiar.” Hyojong tried to change the subject back to their previous conversation.

“Like your dead girlfriend?”

“Only when you smile, but I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else.”

That’s when the redhead nodded, “Do you go to the Cat Scratch Club? That's where I work, I dance. Help me look!”

“Yes!” He said, smirking at the memory, “They used to tie you up.”

“It's a living.” She shrugged.

“I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs.” He got in front of her eye line and held his wrists together above his head, letting himself smile a bit.

The strange girl smiled too for a bit and then continued to look, now standing, “We could light the candle. Oh, won't you light the candle?”

Another match was struck to light the used wick, but still Hyojong had to say something knowing another reason why she felt so familiar, “Why don't you forget that stuff? You look like you're sixteen.” “Add ten, still I'm old for my age. I'm just born to be bad!” She did a little dance as she went to another area of the room to see if she could find what she needed.

Hyojong folded his arms, “I once was born to be bad. I used to shiver like that.

She shooed away his concern, “I have no heat, I told you--”

“I used to sweat--”

“I got a cold.”

Not convinced, “Uh huh, I used to be a junkie.”

“But now and then I like to…”

“Uh huh”

“Feel good.”

Seeing the small packet on the floor, Hyojong picked it up, “Oh, here it…”

She whipped her head around, “What's that?”

“It's uh candy bar wrapper.” He hid it in his back pocket.

Playing coy, the woman approached him, “We could light the candle…” which he playfully blew out. “Oh, what'd you do with my candle?”

She began to chase him, lunging for his pocket, but Hyojong moved out of the way before she could catch him.

“That was my last match.” He said, leaning against the metal table.

“Our eyes'll adjust. Thank God for the moon” She did the same.

“Maybe it's not the moon at all. I hear Spike Lee's shooting down the street.”

She pouted and scooted her hand towards his, “Bah humbug, bah humbug~”

“Cold hands…” but he didn’t pull away.

“Yours too.” She tucked a fiery strand behind her ear and turned his palm upwards, “Big, like my father's.” Then she twirled, letting her shawl flutter around her. “Do you wanna dance?”

“With you?”

“No, with abeoji.” She teased.

“I’m Hyojong-ie.”

Her leaning forward made him lean back and he didn’t notice where her hands were going, “And the name of your noona is...Hyuna~”

She pulled her hand back revealing the small back of drugs was back in her possession and left the room before he could get it back. She giggled and winked at him before she dashed down the steps. He sighed, letting her go.

Yeah. It was better to just let her go.

Somewhere a phone waited unanswered and so the callers got the answering machine instead which rambled, “Hi you’ve reached Hwasa and Maman, leave a message. Don’t forget OVER THE MOON, my performance protesting the eviction of the homeless and artist from the 11th street lot tonight. The lot between A and B. Party at Life Cafe to follow!”

It was Maman’s parents.

“Well, Maman, we’re off. I tried you at the office and they said you were ‘stage managing’ or something.”

His wife searched her purse in the background, but her voice could still be heard on the recording, “Remind her that those unwed mothers in Harlem need her legal help too.”

He nodded, “Call Daisy for our itinerary or Alfred at Pound Ridge or Eileen at the state department in a pinch. We'll be at the spa for new year's unless the senator changes his mind.”

“The hearings.”

“Oh yes, Kitten. Eomma's confirmation hearing begins on the tenth. We'll need you--alone--by the sixth.”

She scolded her husband for adding such unnecessary info, “Yeobo!”

He cracked a smile, “You hear that? It's three weeks away and she's already nervous.”

“I am not!”

“For Eomma's sake, Kitten no Doc Martens this time and wear a dress. Oh, and Kitten, have a merry…”

“And a bra!!” Since she didn’t tend to wear one as she favored a more butch fashion style personally.

It turned out that Hui did forget something (his charger) and ended up returning to his apartment to get it. However, when there was a knock on the door, he forgot what he was meant to do since only one man could knock that way.

It was Namjoon, finally!

Hui even joked as he set up the camera for a good angle, “Enter, Kim Namjoon: computer genius, teacher, vagabond anarchist who ran naked through the Parthanon.”

The beanie wearing genius tossed groceries to the nearest person who tossed it to the next who tossed it in the makeshift kitchen. Bustelo, some kimchi, banana by the bunch. A box of Captain Crunch will taste so good!

“And firewood!” Namjoon held up a thick ass log.

Hui was glad to see his friend again, “Look, it's Santa Claus!”

He paused and nudged E’Dawn, “Hold your applause.”

“Oh, hi.” The blonde replied.

“Tsk ‘Oh, hi’ after seven months?”

He chuckled, “Sorry.”

Namjoon grabbed the unmistakable bottle out of his bag, “This boy could use some Jinro.”

The two cheery boys wrapped their arms around Hyojong and sang, “Oh holy night!”

E’Dawn moved away from them, “You struck gold at MIT?”

He shook his head, “They expelled me for my theory of Actual Reality which I'll soon impart to the couch potatoes at New York University.” then be pat his mopey friend on the back. “Still haven't left the house?”

“I was waiting for you, don't you know?” He replied.

“Well, tonight's the night! Come to the Life Cafe after Maureen's show!” He responded happily.

“No flow.” Meaning Hyojong was broke.

Namjoon then went to the door and put his hand on the knob, “Gentlemen, our benefactor on this Christmas Eve whose integrity is only matched by talent, I believe. A new member of the Alphabet City avant-garde Kim Kibum, jagi~” He opened the door.

The two other men looked at each other since it had been forever since he used that term for anyone. What was even more unexpected was to see a firm but slim body in a bright red Christmas dress with white fur trim, zebra print leggings, and Mary Janes. Her hair was in two curled ponytails with white pom-poms on the bands.

She(?) twirled in and it was as if a harp was playing as she did so. Then she displayed two thick piles of cash, one to each of the boys.

“Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.” Her(?) glittering red lips formed.

The men grabbed it and then stared at her in awe. “Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.”

Namjoon added, “And you should hear her beat.”

“You earned this on the street?” Hui thought Namjoon had fallen for a prostitute with two drum sticks tucked in her zebra printed belt.

She shook her head, “It was my lucky day today on Avenue A when a lady in a limousine drove my way. She said: ‘Darling be a dear. Haven’t slept in a year. I need your help to make my neighbor's yappy dog disappear.’”  This Akita, Evita, just won't shut up. He criss-crossed over to the bucket that all the groceries had been carried in and began to bang rhythmically on it. “I believe if you play nonstop that pup will breathe its very last high strung breath. I'm certain that cur will bark itself to death."

Then she repeated her cute little phrase, “Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me. Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.” and then continued her story. “We agreed on a fee A $1000 guarantee tax free, and a bonus if I trim her tree. Now who could foretell that it would go so well, but sure as I am here that dog is now in doggy hell.”

She climbed up on the latter near the door, “After an hour, Evita in all her glory--On the window ledge of that 23rd story.” She used her drum sticks to count upwards. “Like Thelma and Louise did when they got the blues, wwan dove into the courtyard of the Gracie Mews.”

“Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.” The girl leaped off in heels to be closer to the boys who were beating out a rhythm on their own random pieces of furniture. “Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.”

The beautiful girl broke into a drum solo on the table and the walls and even the chairs, sounding very good and skilled, not even breaking a sweat or messing up as she moved from surface from surface frolicking and bringing up the mood. Even twirling and jumping on the table without missing a beat.

“Back on the street where I met my sweet,” He caressed Namjoon’s hat and moved down to his face to grab his chin. “Where he was moaning and groaning on the cold concrete. The nurse took him home for some Madecassol, and I dressed his wounds and got him back on his feet! Sing it!”

The other joined in, feeling amused at themselves for quite enjoying this tale of their friend’s new lover about killing a dog.

“Today 4 U. Tomorrow 4 me. Today 4 U. Tomorrow 4 me. I said Today 4 U. Tomorrow 4 me.”

Then she sat on a spinning office chair and motioned for one of them to give her a spin, which Hyojong ended up doing.

“Today 4 U. Tomorroooooow 4 me!” She landed with her black heels firmly on the ground and struck a pose.

Then Key hugged Namjoon and the boys laughed having a grand old time until a familiar voice sang out, “Joy to the world…” before looking out the window and yelling. “Hey you bum! Yeah, you, move over! Get your ass off that Range Rover!”

Everyone rolled their eyes at Park Choongmin who took off his glasses and tucked them in his pocket.

Hui spoke up, “That attitude toward the homeless is just what Hwasa is protesting tonight.” He turned his camera on himself. “Close up: Park Choongmin the third. Our ex-roommate who married Alison Grey, of the Westport Greys. Then bought the building and the lot next door from his father-in-law, in hopes of starting a cyber-studio.”

“Hwasa is protesting losing her performance space not my attitude.” He posed and grinned once he saw the camera on him. Namjoon covered the lense, not wanting anything positive about him to be recorded.

E’Dawn spoke, “What happened to Choog-ie? What happened to his heart and the ideals he once pursued?”

“Any owner of that lot next door has a right to do with it as he pleases.” He shot back.

To which Namjoon replied by raising the soju bottle, “Happy birthday, Jesus!” While trying to remind the greedy man of his conscience.

“The rent.” He held out his hand.

“You're wasting your time.” Hui said.

“We're broke.” Hyojong added.

“And you broke your word. This is absurd!”

Choogmin tried to sweet talk them, “There is one way you won't have to pay~”

“I knew it!” The blonde scoffed.

Looking out the side window, the businessman let his imagination run wild, “Next door, the home of Cyberarts, you see and now that the block is re-zoned, our dream can become a reality! You'll see boys. You'll see boys~!” He saw it wasn’t working, so he tried explaining his vision a different way.

“A state of the art, digital, virtual interactive studio. I'll forego your rent and on paper guarantee that you can stay here for free...if you do me one small favor.”

Hui asked with a straight face, “What?”

“Convince Maureen to cancel her protest.” He batted his reptilian eyes.

“Why not just get an injunction or call the cops?”

The snake replied, “I did, and they're on stand by. But my investors would rather I handle this quietly.”

Hyojong scoffed, “You can't quietly wipe out an entire tent city then watch It's a Wonderful Life on TV!”

“You want to produce films and write songs?” He spoke to their passions. “You need somewhere to do it! It's what we used to dream about. Think twice before you pooh-pooh it. You'll see boys. You'll see boys…?” He lifted Key’s skirt to see if the audience was actually all men.

Rude and uncalled for, and Namjoon put Key behind him and glared at Park Choongmin who backed up and sat on the table.

His hands arched in the sky, “You'll see the beauty of a studio that lets us do our work and get paid. With condos on the top. Whose rent keeps open our shop. Just stop the protest and you'll have it made. You'll see…” He put his sunglasses back on. “Or you'll pack.”

He escaped before he could get any more backlash.

Key scoffed, “That boy could use some prozac.”

“Or heavy drugs.” E’Dawn suggested.

“Or group hugs.” Hui said, getting confused and amused stares in return. “Which reminds me…” Namjoon said, scoffing. “We have a detour to make tonight. Anyone who wants to can come along.” He said pointedly to Hyojong.

Key replied, “Life support's a group for people coping with life. You don't have to stay too long.”

Hui threw his jacket back on, “First I've got a protest to save.”

“Roger?” She asked.

He shook his head, “I'm not much company you'll find.”

“Behave!” Hui lightly scolded his pessimism.

“He'll catch up later. He's just go other things on his mind.” Key said. “You'll see, boys!”

Hui and Namjoon chuckled but agreed at this turn around of phrase, “We'll see, boys.”

Hyojong scoffed, “Let it be, boys!”

Namjoon smiled at Key, “I like boys.”

And Key smiled back, “Boys like me.”

Silently they just decided to go along their lives while they waited for Hyojong to come around sooner or later. They’d see.

~~~~

So, now we follow Hui as he went to go help Hwasa fix her microphone or something or other as he did when they were dating. Even when they weren’t dating, until she fired him as her production manager. Anyways, Hui would always be there for Hwasa one way or another since he still had a soft spot for her.

Using his phone, he filmed himself, “And so into the abyss, the lot where a small stage is partially set up.”

“Line in…” a voice mumbled from inside. “I went to Harvard for this?”

“Close on Hui’s nosedive.” He walked inside and took a moment to pause.

“Line out…?”

The man asked himself, “Will he get out of here alive?”

Then the honey blonde woman gawked as she saw the only man that would show up here, “Hui?”

Even he stopped to take in the situation, “Hi.” He gave a bow.

“I told her not to call you!”

Hui shrugged, “That's Hwasa, but can I help since I'm here?”

He approached the box surrounded by wires of all sorts. Maman quickly walked in front of it, her red scarf flying momentarily as she moved quickly to stop him.

Then she acted casually, “I've hired an engineer…”

“Great!” He replied with a tense smile. “Well then, nice to have…” he started to turn around.

“Wait!” Maman said, swallowing her pride. “She's 3 hours late!”

Hui joined her at the box while she explained, “The samples won’t delay but the cable--”

He nodded, “There’s another way. Say something, anything.” He motioned to the microphone.

Maman said the typical theatre thing she thought of, “Test, 1, 2, 3.”

The film nerd rolled his eyes, “Anything but that.”

She sighed, “This is weird.”

“It’s weird.” He agreed.

“Very weird.”

“Fucking weird.” He said with a head tilt.

“I’m so mad that I don’t know what to do. Fighting with microphones, freezing down to my bones, and to top it all off I’m with you.”

This was very familiar to Hui, “Feel like going insane, got a fire in your brain, and you’re thinking of drinking gasoline?”

Maman couldn’t help but nod, “As a matter of fact--”

“Honey, I know this act. It’s called the Tango: Maureen.” He did a tango pose. “The Tango: Maureen. It’s a dark, dizzy, merry go round. As she keeps you dangling…”

“You’re wrong!”

“Your heart she is mangliiiing.”

“It’s different with me!”

“And you toss and you turn cause her cold eyes can burn, yet you yearn and you churn and rebound.”

The long haired blonde paused at how deja vu this all sounded, “I think I know what you mean…”

Together, they said, “The Tango: Maureen~.”

Not so much focused on the tech, Hui asked, “Has she ever pouted her lips and called you ‘Aein?’”

Proudly, Maman crossed her arms, “Never.”

“Have you ever doubted a kiss or two?”

She bit her lip, “This is spooky.” Then she took her chance to ask her own questions. “Did you swoon when she walked through the door?”

“Every time, so be....cautious.”

“Did she moon over other boys?.”

Looking directly into her eyes, “More than moon.”

She held her stomach, “I’m getting nauseous.”

Hui stood in the middle of the stage and held out his hand. He cleared his throat and motioned her over. Maman looked behind herself. Surely, he wasn’t asking her? But he was. So she looked him up and down and unbuttoned her jacket and took off her scarf to have less hindrance. Then she took her hand. The two began to tango on the stage as naturally as if they had been dancing together for years.

This took Hui by surprise, so he asked, “Where’d you learn to tango?”

“With the French ambassador's daughter in her dorm room at Ms. Porters and you?”

They paused, “With Moon Dahye, the president’s daughter at the Korean Sundance Film afterparty.”

Giving a cocky smirk, Maman began to take the lead flawlessly while Hui had some trouble following. As a man, he never had to do it before.

“It’s hard to do this backwards.” he admitted.

To which Maman dipped and said, “You should try it in heels.” which she never really wore nowadays. She then dropped him while realizing how absurd this whole things was and finally admitted to herself. “She cheated.”

“She cheated!” He said in a sure tone as he stood up.

“Maureen cheated.”

“Fucking cheated.”

“I’m defeated, I should give up right now,” She said, pulling her hair out of its too tight bun.

Hui tried to cheer her up, “Gotta look on the bright side with all of your might.”

“I’d fall for her still anyhow,” She conceded.

With a playful wiggle of his hip (which got a laugh in return) the two began to tango together once more. They realized when you’re dancing her dance, you don’t stand a chance. Her grip of romance makes you fall.

“So you think might as well--”

“Dance a tango to hell.” She finished.

At least they’ll have tangoed at all. They did the Tango: Maureen where you gotta dance ‘til your diva is through. They had pretended to believe her ‘cause in the end they couldn’t leave her. But the end it will come, still they had to play dumb ‘til they're glum and they bum and turn blue.

Out loud, Hui asked, “Why do we love when she’s mean?” as he returned to the box.

“And she can be so obscene!” She said, lifting her boobs and squishing them together in her dress shirt.

“Try the mic.” He said.

Into the microphone, Maman spoke, “My Maureen~” and the “een” part reverberated like it was meant to.

Raising his arm in success, the film nerd smiled, “Patched!”

“Thanks!” Maman said, returning her hair into its bun since her parents would disown her if she ever cut it.

“You know, I feel great now!” He said with a chuckle knowing the Maureen he knew never really changed.

To which Maman pouted, “I feel lousy!”

Then her phone, which was resting on a table, rang. Hui was gonna pick it up to give to her, but instead she stopped him with a, “Nuh-uh-uh.”

He raised his hands in defeat.

After collecting herself, she answered, “Hey, honey, we’re--AEIN?”

Hui started to laugh until he caught the blonde woman’s glare. She put on a smile.

“You’ve never called me aein before!” The man stifled a laugh, and she looked at him once more. “Forget it. We’re patched.” She hung up.

They looked at each other, “The Tango: Maureen.” and sighed.

At the Life Support Meeting, everyone introduced themselves. “Jae”, “Matthew”, “Sunhee”, “Bom”, “Krystal”

“Hi, I’m Key.”

“Namjoon. Kim Namjoon.” He bowed to the leader.

“I'm Jiyong. Let's begin.” They began to speak the affirmation, “There's only us. There's only this …”

And Hui entered, interrupting, “Sorry ... Excuse me ... oops.”

“And you are?” Jiyong asked in a patient voice.

“Oh, I'm not--I'm just here to--I don't have--I'm here with--” He waved to Key and Namjoon who smiled back. “Um--Hui. Hui, I'm Hui.” He looked around. “Well...this is quite an operation. Can I?”

He pointed to the camera, and everyone nodded once they heard it was just a life documentary and not news.

Jiyong smiled softly, “We'll continue the affirmation.”

Everyone picked up where they left off, “Forget, regret or life is yours to miss.”

Matthew spoke up, “Excuse me, hyung. I'm having a problem with this, this credo. My T-cells are low. I regret that news, okay?”

“Alright, but Matthew, how do you feel today?”

He looked around, uncomfortable, “What do you mean?”

“How do you feel today?”

“Okay?” He shrugged.

“Is that all?” the older man pushed forward.

He sighed, “Best I've felt all year.”

“Then why choose fear?”

Matthew chuckled, “I'm a millennial; fear's my life!” He sighed. “Look, I find some of what you teach suspect because I'm used to relying on intellect, but I try to open up to what I don't know. Because reason says I should have died three years ago.”

The last part caused Hui paused as that last sentence sounded like something Hyojong would’ve said. Probably had said before.

Still, they pushed on, “No other road. No other way. No day but today.”

Hui continued recording.

Rock and roll. The absolute shredding of a guitar. Add drums. That’s what made up Hyuna’s soul. She sang and performed to the music in sparkly blue lingerie, with her hair pinned up and ready for action.

“What's the time? Well it's gotta be close to midnight. My body's talking to me, and it says:”

“Time for danger!” Her frequent visitors screamed out loud.

She giggled, “It says ‘I wanna commit a crime’ ‘wanna be the cause of a fight’ ‘Wanna put on a tight skirt and flirt with a stranger.” She leaned in front of a obviously horny man with a dumb smile on his face. Five bucks from five people already.

“I've had a knack from way back at breaking the rules once I learn the games. Get up. Life's too quick. I know someplace sick where this chick'll dance in the flames.” Another $200 with a couple of boob wiggles and more singing. “We don't need any money. I always get in for free. You can get in too if you get in with me.”

She blew a kiss to one side of the room while walking to a rather expensive looking target, “Let's go out tonight. I have to go out tonight!” She let down her hair and slitter fell out of it onto the mans lap before she sat.

A rather tough and stoic man covered in tats stood next to the clients to make sure they didn’t touch while they were looking.

“You wanna play? Let's run away; we won't be back before it's Christmas day.” She was lifted up by some stage dancers to make her body look like a cross. “Take me out tonight…” She leaned closely into and older man’s ear and whispered, “Meow!”

And snatched away a thick stack with a, “Ha!”

Her shift was over, so she walked home to her place in glittery, strappy heels and sung to herself, “When I get a wink from the doorman, do you know how lucky you'll be that you're on line with the feline of Avenue B?”

Hyuna set her bag inside her apartment now in white leggings with bananas on them, knee high yellow boots, and a matching crop top as she continued to party by herself.

“Let's go out tonight. I have to go out tonight. You wanna prowl, be my night owl? Well take my hand we're gonna howl, out tonight!”

Then she got to the fire escape through her window and sat on the edge, “In the evening I've got to roam. Can't sleep in the city of neon and chrome. Feels too damn much like home, when the Korean babies cry. So let's find a bar, so dark we forget who we are,” Hyuna grabbed onto the stairs above and yelled into the night, “Where all the scars from the nevers and maybes die!”

She started to climb when she saw blonde hair walking past the upstairs window, “Let's go out tonight! Have to go out tonight. You're sweet wanna hit the street? Wanna wail at the moon like a cat in heat? Just take me out tonight!” She knocks on the window and is let in by Hyojong.

Hyuna entered saying, “Please take me out tonight~” When he ignored her and went to play his guitar, she took it from him. “Don't forsake me, out tonight!” Then the red head  got up on her knees while she was on the table, “I'll let you make me out tonight!”

She tried everything to get him to say yes. Tonight. Every pose and flirt. Tonight. Hyuna wanted him. Tonight.

The red head was even able to get his hands wrapped around her waist and went in for a kiss before she was rejected and he moved away from her.

“Who do you think you are barging in on me and my guitar? Little girl, hey, the door is that way!”

Quietly Hyuna said, “It’s noona.”

“You better go you know the fire is out anyway. Take your powder. Take your candle. Your sweet whisper I just can't handle. Well take your hair in the moonlight your brown eyes goodbye, goodnight.”

He thought to himself, I should tell you. I should tell you. I should--he felt her creeping up on his shoulders.

“No!” Hyojong couldn’t let himself go through this again. “Another time, another place our temperature would climb. There'd be a long embrace. We'd do another dance; it'd be another play. Looking for romance? Come back another day. Another day!” He leaned on the table facing away from her.

Hyuna wanted to ease his pain and comfort him, “The heart may freeze or it can burn. The pain will ease if I can learn, there is no future. There is no past. I live this moment as my last!” She tried to reason with him by saying the words she had been taught.  “There's only us. There's only this. Forget, regret or life is yours to miss. No other road. No other way. No day but today!”

It got Hyojong to look at her, but he was just to angry at her ruining her own life, “Excuse me if I'm off track, but if you're so wise then tell me why do you need smack! Take your needle, take your fancy prayer. Don’t forget get the moonlight out of your hair!”

She stood and looked at her fiery locks in confusion.

He admitted, “Long ago you might’ve lit up my heart, but the fire’s dead and ain't never ever gonna start!” He paced the room silently wishing for it to be “Another time, another place, the words would only rhyme. We'd be in outer space. It'd be another song we'd sing another way. You wanna prove me wrong? Come back another day. Another day!”

The red headed Hyuna began to leave, but her heart wouldn’t let herself give up on him, “There's only yes, only tonight. We must let go to know what's right. No other course. No other way. No day but today.”

She couldn’t control her destiny while E’Dawn tried to control what he could, such as his temper and yet he was mad that she couldn’t see what she was doing to herself. The road she was going down if she kept doing these poisons.

“I trust my soul!”

“Who says that there's a soul?” He replied.

Hyuna kept going, “My only goal is just to be.”

Hyojong spat back, “Just let me be.”

Still aching for something more, she tried again using the words she was taught, the ones that seemed to resonate with him, “There's only now. There's only here.”

Talking over her, he asked once again to her face, “Who do you think you are, barging in on me and my guitar?”

“Give into love or live in fear.” He pulled away from her embrace as she continued, “No other past, no other way!”

“Little girl, hey, the door is that way!”

They were too caught up in their own emotions that they weren’t listening to the other person. Both were so passionate. Hyuna wanted him to be open and love her as she felt they were meant to be together, but Hyojong couldn’t let himself be open. Not again. Not by someone like her. Who deserved better than him.

“No day but today!” She said.

“The fire’s out anyway.” Though he didn’t really want it to be.

No day but today.

“Take your powder. Take your candle.”

No day but today.

“Take your brown eyes, your pretty smile, your silhouette.” Why wouldn’t she just leave? Did he want her to stay?

No day but today.

“Another time, another place, another rhyme, a warm embrace.”

“No day but today!” Her voice sounded like it was begging now.

He couldn’t waver, “Another dance, another way, another chance, another day!”

No day but today! It wasn’t just her saying it now, but his own mind.

Hyuna tried to kiss him, but he turned away once more. She couldn’t take another rejection...so she left out the front door holding back tears and not knowing that he was trying to do the same. That he was trying to ask you to come back, but Hyojong’s aching heart wouldn’t let him call out to her.

Hyojong picked up his guitar, his safety blanket of sorts. “I’m writing one great song, before I…”

It’s strange when you think about humanity and all the troubles we go through just trying to get by. Some people think they only have themselves while others are frightened to reach out to the people they know they have. Fear is a very real thing. It’s toxic and can still even the surest of movements if it’s let in for just a moment.

Worrying thoughts such as Will I lose my dignity? Tend to stir in one’s mind as they wonder what will happen if they admit something is wrong with them or if they need help. That leads to Will someone care? All in all, people tend to question everything and have no idea what the future holds. That’s impossible to know, but they still ask Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?

And the answer can make or break them.

Will I lose my dignity?

Will someone care?

Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?

Ask yourself these questions, and then live long enough to find the answer. Don’t forget there’s always another tomorrow, and you never have to do today again.

As Namjoon, Key, Hui, and now Hyojong walked the streets to Christmas bells were ringing. They saw a man with wet sleeves holding a bucket and a squeegee. He approached a car stopped at a red light and cleaned its window.

When he went to collect his fee for cleaning, he gave a warm smile, “Honest living, man!” And yet the car sped off. “Feliz Navidad.” and scoffed, sitting back on the side of the road.

There were homeless people sleeping all around the lot, just loitering and not bothering anyone. Not for real. Maybe asking a passerby for money to eat but that’s about it.

One of the men in the warmest clothes he could find and probably the only clothing he owned greeted three officers who patrolled the area on foot, “Evening, officers.”

Apparently they didn’t like his attitude, for the first one started to grab the man’s collar. Hui jumped in with his cell phone and the others did the same.

“Smile for YouTube, Officer Martin.” Hui did a close up of the man’s name tag.

They let him go and left. The homeless man had the last word, “And a Merry Christmas to your family!”

“Right…” You could see he wanted to flip the homeless man off.

As Hui continued to film, he saw a person carrying a lot of bags.

Apparently, they didn’t like being filmed, “Who the fuck do you think you are? I don't need no goddamn help from some bleeding heart cameraman. My life's not for you to make a name for yourself on.”

Key interrupted with a soft voice, “Easy, sugar, easy. He was just trying to--”

They weren’t having it, “Just trying to use me to kill his guilt. It's not that kind of movie, honey.” They talked to their pink haired companion. “Let's go. This lot is full of motherfucking artists!” Still… “Hey, artist, you gotta dollar?”

The companion shook a styrofoam cup, but Hui had no money to give.

“I thought not.” They scoffed and moved onto their train.

Wanting to move the awkward moment along, Key said, “New York City!” and did jazz hands to distract them. “Center of the universe.”

“Sing it, girl--” Namjoon said.

“Times are shitty, but I'm pretty sure they can't get worse.”

“I hear that.” Hui nodded.

“It's a comfort to know when you're singing the hit the road blues that anywhere else you could possibly go after New York would be…” He used his deepest voice. “A pleasure cruise.”

The others laughed at the sudden change in tone.

Namjoon agreed, “Now you're talking.” Then he paused. “Well, I'm thwarted by a metaphysic puzzle, and I'm sick of grading papers that I know. Now I'm shouting in my sleep, I need a muzzle. All this misery pays no salary, so...Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe. Oh, sunny Santa Fe would be nice. We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe, and leave this to the roaches and mice” He sighed, “Ohhhh-oohhh-ooo-oh-ohh”

“You teach?” Asked Key

“Yeah, I teach. Computer age philosophy while my students would rather watch TV.”

She chuckled, “America.”

“America!” The whole train seemed to echo.

He then decided to charm Key some more, “You're a sensitive aesthete, brush the sauce onto the meat. You could make the menu sparkle with a rhyme. You could drum a gentle drum,” Namjoon patted the bucket. “I could seat guests as they come. Chatting not about Heidegger, but wine!” He grinned as he linked arms with Hyojong and ‘seated’ him in a new spot on the train as if he were a customer. “Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe. Our labors would reap financial gain.” He pointed at E’Dawn, Hui, and Key in turn each singing higher that the last.

“Gain”

“Gain”

“Gain”

“We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe and save from devastation our brains.”

They chanted after him, “Save our brains.”

“We'll pack up all our junk and fly so far away, devote ourselves to projects that sell. We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe! Forget this cold Bohemian hell.”

This time it was one of the street performers on the train who sang along to his sighs, “Ohhhh- oohhh-ooo-oh-ohh. Whoa~”

Namjoon smiled and leaned bowed as the doors slid open letting Key go first to step carefully over the gap in his heels.

“Do you know the way to Santa Fe? You know, tumbleweeds... prairie dogs…”

Everyone grinned in unison, “Yeah…”

Then Hui and Hyojong said that they would catch the two later since it seemed the blonde had something he wanted to talk about something. Or someone. The other two agreed and continued to just walk around.

“Alone at last.” Key acted cute to get his attention.

Namjoon was nervous, “He’ll be right back, I promise.” and went to pick up the bucket that had been left behind.

“I’ve been hearing violins all night.” He tried to drop a stronger hint to see if his love interest would pick it up as well.

“Anything to do with me?” He asked, genuinely curious and hopeful. “Are we a thing?”

Key took the bucket out of his hands and held them himself, “Jagiya, we’re everything.” She hugged him from behind, “Live in my house, I'll be your shelter. Just pay me back with one thousand kisses. Be my lover, and I'll cover you.”

Oblivious as always, the warmly dressed man could only hope he was asking to be official and faced his love, “Open your door, I'll be your tenant. Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet, but sweet kisses I've got to spare. I'll be there and I'll cover you.”

The grin he got in return confirmed it. It felt as though their hearts were singing to each other since they were too shy to do it out loud on the street like this. Their hearts beat out, I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love. Now I know you can rent it. A new lease, you are my love. On life, be my life.

They began to be that stupidly cute couple you rarely see and just danced on the street no longer caring who saw them since it was just the two of them that mattered. Their hearts still sang, Just slip me on, I'll be your blanket. Wherever, whatever I'll be your coat.

Placing an imaginary crown on his lover’s head, Key stood on his tippy toes, “You'll be my king, and I'll be your castle.”

“No, you'll be my queen, and I'll be your moat.” Namjoon made a wavy motion with his arms. Then he spoke what his heart had said earlier. “I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love. Now I know you can rent it. A new lease, you are my love. On life, be my life.”

She nodded, “I've longed to discover something as true as this is.”

“So, with a thousand sweet kisses…”

“If you're cold and you're lonely”

“I'll cover you with a thousand sweet kisses.”

“You've got one nickel only.”

“I'll cover you”

“With a thousand sweet kisses,” Key said it first this time.

Namjoon let her, “When you're worn out and tired…”

“I'll cover you with a thousand sweet kisses”

“When your heart has expired”

Key promised, “I'll cover you.”

Together, they belted out everything they had in their heart that had become one with this confession of feelings and display of affection, “Oh, lover I'll cover you. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Oh, lover.”

They held each other closely, “I'll cover you.”

Then they kissed and decided to continue their stroll elsewhere.

To check in with Maman, she was on the phone sorting things out at her office, “Steve? Joanne The Murget case?” She asked for the verdict. “A dismissal! Good work counselor! We're okay!”

Then her cell phone rang showing a cute photo of Hwasa, “Jagiya, wait, I'm on the other phone. Yes, I have the cowbell. We're okay.”

She switched back to her office phone, “So tell them we'll sue, but a settlement will do. Sexual harassment and civil rights, too. Steve, you're great.” Catching something that Hwasa said, Maman replied. “No, you cut the paper plate. Didja cheat on Mark a lot, would you say?”

The lawyer caught herself and closed her eyes, “We're okay. Honey, hold on…” Into the other phone, she spoke, “Steve, hold on…” and then pressed the CALL WAITING button on her cell phone to see who it was.

“Hello? Dad, yes I beeped you. Hwasa is coming to Mother's hearing. We're okay.”

She heard Hwasa say something and switched back, “Honeybear what? Dogbird's lesbian sister? I'll tell him.” Maman switched over and then her dad cut her off before she got a chance to say anything. “You heard?” switch. “They heard. We're okay.”

“And to you, Dad.” Then she hung up the call with her father and was only down to two calls to focus on. “Yes,” She set her jaw at her girlfriend’s sentence. “Jill is there?”

She spoke on the office phone, “Steve, gotta--” but quickly went back to her cell, “Jill with the short black hair? The Calvin Klein model? Steve, gotta go!” Maman hung up the right phone surprisingly and spoke to Hwasa. “The model who lives in Penthouse A???”

“We're...we're okay. I'm on my way.”

Quickly, Maman grabbed her bag and walked out of her office to make sure nothing happened between her girlfriend and the Calvin Klein model Jill.

______

Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are singing...On TV. At SAKS.

“Honest living, honest living…” The squeegeman called out repeatedly trying to get some one to pay him for his work.

The homeless begged all around, “Can't you spare a dime or two? Here but for the grace of God go you. You'll be merry. I'll be merry, though merry ain't in my vocabulary.” They sighed at old memories of being warm and happy if they had them, and if not, they dreamed of the day that they would have a place of their own and food on the table. But for now: No sleigh bells. No Santa Claus. No yule log. No tinsel. No holly. No hearth. No--

“Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” Some rude teens messed with a display that was a well known spot for homeless to sleep, not thinking of the consequences or just not caring.

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. There was no room at the Holiday Inn. And it's beginning to snow. However, when things got bad, there was always something to do. So they opened up shop before things got too bad since they might have been able to make some money and find a place to stay. A small hope, but better than nothing.

“Hats!”

“Bats”

“Shoes”

“Booze”

“Mountain bikes”

“Potpourri”

“Leather bags”

“Girlie mags”

“Forty fives” and most importantly

“AZT!”

They called out to anyone that would listen, often overlapping with one another.

One vendor called out, “No one's buying? Feel like crying.”

Still there was no room at the Holiday Inn. Oh no. And it's beginning to snow.

A large woman talked up her things to Namjoon and Key who were passing by, “How about a fur in perfect shape? Owned by an MBA from uptown. I got a tweed broken in by a greedy broker who went broke and then broke down.”

Namjoon, having gotten his coat stolen yesterday told her, “You don't have to do this…”

“Hush your mouth, it's Christmas.” was his reply.

“I do not deserve you, Key.” The beanie wearing man stared with love in his eyes while his boyfriend searched through the coat rack. “Give, Give all you do is give.”

She squatted down, “Wait, what's on the floor? Let's see some more. No, no, no, no.” He basically hissed at the hideous collection.”

“Give me some way to show how you've touched me so.”

Key didn’t want much, “Kiss me, it's beginning to snow.” He grabbed Namjoon’s vest with both hands and pulled him closer.

Now with the boys Hui and Hyojong, the latter had explained what had happened today with Hyuna. Hui was more surprised not to see him inside the house.

“...She said, "Would you light my candle' and she put on a pout and she wanted you to take her out tonight?”

“Right.” Hyojong confirmed.

“She got you out!”

He shook his head, “She was more than okay, but I pushed her away. It was bad, I got mad and I had to get her out of my sight.”

Hui squinted at his blonde friend, “Wait, wait, wait, you said she was sweet!”

Hyojong just shook his head, not wanting to talk about his big screw up, “Let's go eat. I’ll just get fat. It's the one vice left when you're dead meat.” Then yellow boots caught his eye. “There! That's her!”

“Hwasa?” The only important her in Hui’s life was not the one passing by.

He turned his friend around and pointed, “Hyuna!”

“Woah!”

“I should go--” Hyojong started.

Then both men looked up, “Hey, it's beginning to snow.”

As cops circulated, music from nearby played. “I'm dreaming of a white white Christmas.”

However, even in this snow junkies and addicts of all sorts were trying to get their fix by visiting their local drug dealer who was avoiding the cops that had just left the specific area. They only had one goal and that was to follow the man, follow the man with his pockets full of the jam. Follow the man, follow the man.

“Help me out, Daddy, if you can.” They begged and then asked, “Got any D, man?”

To which the shady figure replied, “I'm cool.” leading them to where he kept his stash.

“Got any C, man?” Another asked.

“I'm cool.”

“Got any X? Any smack? Any horse? Any joogie boogie boy? Any blow?” All street names for drugs were spoken and then handed out.

The police seemed to be too close for comfort, so Hyuna waited for them to move along giving Hyojong time to catch up with her.

“Hey…” He said.

“Hey.” She replied nonchalantly.

Hyojong looked at her eyes, “I just want to say I'm sorry for the way --”

“Forget it.” Hyuna spoke dismissively.

“I blew up.” He stepped forward. “Can I make it up to you?”

She raised her eyebrow, “How?”

“Dinner party?” Hyojong offered.

“That'll do.” She smiled at him.

The dealer came back because he was sure he had missed someone from his original client list today. He wasn’t happy when he saw her chatting with an old customer who suddenly stopped visiting him one day. Had he gone and made his own business?

“Hey lover boy, cutie pie. You steal my client, you die!”

E’Dawn was gonna fight, “You didn't miss me, you won't miss her! You'll never lack for customers!”

He remembered his past self willing to kill for a fix, “I'm willin', I'm illin'. I gotta get my sickness off.” and how skittish he was around enforcers. “Gotta run, gotta ride. Gotta gun, gotta hide, gotta go.”

Holding up two bags of white powder the dealer chuckled, “And it's beginning to snow.”

Choogmin was not happy when he saw a crowd starting to arrive for Hwasa’s show. He even called his wife to tell her, “We're outta luck, Alison, the protest is on!” As the addicts came back when they saw the cops were gone or at least not close enough to see their business being done. The coat vendor was still trying to make a sale with Namjoon and Key.

“L. L. Bean, Geoffrey Beene. Burburry zip-out lining.” She picked one very familiar to Namjoon. “Here's a new arrival.”

The man gasped when he noticed the missing sleeve, “That's my coat!”

To which the vendor replied, “We give discounts~”

He wasn’t about to let her get off, “It's a sham!”

Key didn’t want them to fight, so he said, “Let's get a better one!”

“But she's a thief!”

“But she brought us together~”

Namjoon couldn’t argue with that and pointed to one coat that had caught his eye, “I'll take the leather.

“Honest living!” in the background.

Hyojong introduced his two friends, “Hui, this is Hyuna-noona.”

They bowed to each other and greeted each other politely. Hui hesitated for a bit because he was sure he had seen her somewhere before.

“She'll be dining with us.” the blonde spoke awkwardly.

“I think we've met.” Hui said.

Nearby the dealer was dealing with an unhappy customer, “That is an ounce!”

Hyuna smirked, “That's what he said!”

Then he changed his story, “I said it's a gram!”

Watching more people file in, Choongmin asked his wife, “Which investor's coming? Your father? Damn!” It wasn’t going to be a good impression.

But Hyuna and Hui seemed to be getting along quite nicely as she asked why he had such a large camera and why he never stopped recording. He said he was recording life, and it made Hyojong happy to see people he loved connecting. Still he sort of just hung in the background while they continued talking.

Then he finally spoke up, “Let's go to the lot. Hwasa's performing.”

Hyana turned around from making a silly face in the camera, “Who's Hwasa?”

“His ex.” He motioned to Hui.

Both turned to look at him, and he said, “But I am over her.”

Hui began walking ahead of the maybe couple. Hyuna reached out to hold his hand, but he pulled away.

“Let's not hold hands yet.”

“Is that a warning?” She pouted.

“I just need to take it slow.”

Key helped his love put on his new leather coat after the vendor drove a hard bargain. He looked amazing in it! Namjoon felt good in it too, so he began acting as if he were a millionaire showing off his new threads. Key joined in on the little play and sassily walked into her lover’s arms.

Hyojong thought to himself as he looked at Hyuna, I should tell you, I should tell you. I should tell you, I should tell you.

She also thought, I should tell you.

They opened their mouths at the same time, “I…”

Hui didn’t notice and so he pointed to the sky, “And it's beginning to…”

Namjoon and Key noticed as well, “And it's beginning to…”

“And it's beginning to--” Every person who could see crystals falling from the sky said.

Hwasa showed up on her motorcycle, making a path clear for her and handed her helmet to her girlfriend, “Maman, which way to the stage?”

Snow! It was finally snowing! But that didn’t stop the show from going on. Soon things settled and the performer with short black hair was handed her cowbell. After a quick kiss from Maman, she went on stage. The other stood to the side to make sure she was close in case anything went wrong.

___________

Then the spotlight came on with the clank of a cowbell. Hwasa began her performance.

“Last night, I had a dream.” She looked at all the eyes. “I found myself in a desert called: Cyberland. It was hot,” Hwasa fanned herself  and pantomimed a leak. “My canteen had sprung a leak and I was thirsty.”

A few giggles spread through the audience.

She pointed into the distance, “Out of the abyss walked a cow, Elsie. I asked if she had anything to drink.” The woman struck a strange pose. “She said, ‘I'm forbidden, to produce...milk. In Cyberland we only drink DIET COKE.”

With the fixed reverb, “Diet Coke” echoed and echoed. She sang everything that Elsie said to make sure the crowd knew it was the cow and not her speaking. Why? Because ART because PERFORMANCE! That’s fucking why.

“Yes!” Hwasa said to herself, clenching in her fist for it was working. Then she continued by pressing a button that played violin on cue, “She said, ‘Only thing to do is jump over the moon!’” The music stopped. “‘They closed everything real down like barns and troughs and performance spaces” She stared daggers at Choongmin who was front row. “And replaced it all with lies and rules and virtual LIFE!’” She did the robot.

“Life, life, -ife”

“‘But there is a way out’” Another button showed a child’s drawing of a cow and audio played which repeated. “leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith.” in a sing song voice which Hwasa vocalized with.

“Oooooooo. ‘Only thing to do is ~jump over the moon~!’ I've gotta get out of here!” She screamed and started to pantomime her words once more. “It's like I'm being tied to the hood of a yellow rental truck being packed in with fertilizer, and fuel oil pushed over a cliff by a suicidal Mickey Mouse.” She made a gun with her hand and ‘shot’ herself after putting on one of those cheesey Mickey Mouse ear head bands.

She then head thrashed with every syllable, “I've gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Go--” She coughed and then gathered more breath. “Gotta Gotta find a way, to ~jump over the moon~! Only thing to do is jump over the moon~”

The headband was now on the floor, “Then, a little bull dog entered. His name, we have learned, was Choongmin.” She glanced her shirt real quick to make sure she had the prop and pointed at the man himself who received boos. “And although he once had principles, he abandoned them to live as a lapdog to a wealthy daughter of the revolution.”

Hwasa made her eyes wide and stuck her tongue out like a panting pup. She pressed a third button that turned on a jazzy instrumental and snapped along with it, giving herself time to put on glasses just like the ones her persecutor wore.

“‘Uh one two three that's bull!’ he said ‘Ever since that cat took up the fiddle that cow's been...jumpy. The dish and the spoon were evicted from the table and eloped. She's had trouble with the milk and that moon ever since.” She motioned to her breasts for milk and her ass for moon while concluding the bulldog’s intro with. “‘Maybe it's a... “““female thing”””?”

The short haired Hwasa continued to play as the greedy Choongmin, “‘Cause who'd want to leave Cyberland anyway? Walls ain't so bad~’” She mimed those walls surrounding her on all sides. “The dish and the spoon for instance, they're down on their luck they come knocking on my doghouse door and I say.” She cocked an invisible rifle. “‘NOT IN MY BACKYARD, UTENSILS, GO BACK TO CHINA!’”

“Biddi Bonggg.” said one of the cows behind her.

Fast as lightning, the glasses were hung back on her shirt and she went back into her Cow Pose to continue talking as Elsie. “‘The only way out is up!’ Elsie whispered to me, ‘A leap of faith’!” Hwasa sung in her highest register. “‘Sill thirsty?’” Hwasa smacked her lips and acted as if she hadn’t drank anything in days. “Parched”

“-ched, -ched, -ched”

“‘Have some milk.’ And I lowered myself beneath her and held my mouth to her swollen udder and I sucked the sweetest milk I have ever tasted.” She slurped as loud as she possibly could without actually slurping anything. ‘Climb onboard!’ she said. And as a harvest moon rose over Cyberland, we reared back. We sprang into a gallop leaping, out of orbit. I awoke. Singing…”

She had gotten so caught up in her show that she forgot to press the button. So she allowed herself to break character for a moment and rolled her eyes in frustration. Hwasa pushed the button and did her little dance while the audio chanted, “Leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith.”

“Ooooo. Only thing to do, only thing to is jump. Only thing to do is jump over the moon. Only thing to do is jump over the moon. Over the moon. Over the mooooooo.” Emotion just overcame her and the sound just came out. “Mooooooooooo.” She embraced the cow and yelled into the microphone. “MOOOOOOOOO!”

Her eyes scanned the amused crowd and beckoned, “Moo with me.”

“Moooo…” someone from the back called, barely heard.

Hwasa nodded in response, “Come on, sir, mooooo!”

She refused to stop mooing until all of the audience was mooing with her, save the surrounding cops and Park Choongmin himself.

“Mooooo! Mooooooo! Moooooooo! Moooo.”

“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Hwasa said angrily. Then collected herself slightly, “Thank you.” She bowed.

Everyone applauded, and then she got off stage to meet her girlfriend and friends. They quickly got out of there through a back entrance before the businessman could talk to them. It seemed he wasn’t there, though. Where had he gone?

Well, he was sitting in the Life Cafe with his father-in-law who was also the most important investor of the property where the protest was held. Right now, he was just trying to save his own ass and explaining where he planned to go from here in order for them to get the lot secured with no problems.

Then a horde of like 20 people all dressed as young adults usually did, wildly fashionable but also slightly questionable in taste.

The waiter saw them coming and tried to stop them, “No, please no. Not tonight, please no. Mister, can't. You? Go. Not tonight, can't have a scene.” His voice was deep and Australian.

“What??” Hyojong asked.

“Go, please go. You,”

The blonde pulled Hyuna by the hand past the lone waiter.

“Hello, sir! I said no. Important customer.” He pointed out Park Choongmin and other.

“What am I, just a blur?” Hui asked.

The waiter said, “You sit all night, you never buy!”

“That's a lie, that's a lie! I had a tea the other day.”

He folded his arms, “You couldn't pay.”

“Oh yeah…”

Key stuck a $100 bill in the waiter’s hand to get him to shut up and show that they could pay for whatever was ordered tonight.

Namjoon stared down and playfully leaned on the business man’s head, “THE Park Choongmin? Here?”

“Oh no.” The young waiter groaned.

“Wine and beer!” The hungry young adults demanded as they sat and rearrainged tables.

Hwasa called him, “The enemy of Avenue A.” and looked at the waiter. “We'll stay.”

“Oy vey!”

Namjoon asked, “What brings the mogul in his own mind to the Life Cafe?”

Choongmin asked for a second from the man in a three piece suit worth more than the cafe itself and then held up his cup to the short haired woman, “ would like to propose a toast to Hwasa’s noble try. It went well.”

In the same false cheer, Hwasa said, “Go to Hell.”

The others laughed.

Still, the man wasn’t giving up, “Was the yuppie scum stomped? Not counting the homeless, how many tickets weren't comped?”

She just flipped him off.

Hyojong decided to ask, “Why did Muffy--”

“Alison.” He corrected.

“--miss the show?”

He put his hands in his pockets, “There was a death in the family if you must know.”

Key put his hand to his heart, “Who died?”

“Our Akita.” Choongmin said.

Hui, Hyojong, Namjoon, and Key look at each other, “Evita!”

Someone barked.

Then Choongmin went up to the red head, “Hyuna, I'm surprised a bright and charming girl like you hangs out with these slackers who don't adhere to deals.”

As if they ever actually settled that half ass deal.

“They make fun, yet I'm the one attempting to do some good or do you really want a neighborhood where people piss on your stoop every night? Bohemia, Bohemia's a fallacy in your head. This is Calcutta. Bohemia is dead.”

So Hui stood, “Dearly beloved, we gather here to say our goodbyes~”

Hui and Namjoon held hands and lowered their heads, “Dies irae, dies illa. Kyrie eleison. Yitgadal veyitkadash.”

Everyone began to fake cry and wail and mourn the so called death of Bohemia.

“Here she lies!” Hui continued. “No one knew her worth. The late great daughter of Mother Earth. On this night when we celebrate the birth--in that little town of Bethlehem. We raise our glass, you bet your ass, to…”

Hwasa pulled down her jeans and mooned the yuppie scum she had the displeasure of knowing personally.

From the top of his lungs, Hui sings, “La vie Bohème!” Just for the sake of causing a ruckas.

The others started to slowly chant, “La vie Bohème...La vie Bohème...La vie Bohème...La vie Bohème.”

It even had a funky beat that caused the ringleader to continue this teasing, “To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing, the need to express to communicate. To going against the grain. Going insane...Going mad. To loving tension, no pension. To more than one dimension, to starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension. Not to mention, of course” He did the filmer fingers to frame who he know was Choong-ie’s father-in-law. “Hating dear old Mom and Dad.”

“To riding your bike midday past the three-piece suits, to fruits” the gay members of the group posed accordingly. “To no absolutes, to Absolut, to choice, to The Village Voice, to any passing fad.”

And more importantly, “To being an us, for once instead of a them!”

“La vie Bohème.” the others cheered. “La vie Bohème!”

When Hwasa saw that Maman had come in, she asked, “Is the equipment in a pyramid?”

“It is, jagi.”

“The mixer doesn't have a case.”

Maman gave a shocked face and then started to walk out to fix things.

“Don't give me that face.” Hwasa said before grabbing her arm to pull her around to play with her hair. Just gals being pals.

Mr. Grey cleared his throat, “Ahem.”

“Hey, Mister. She's my sister.” Maman grabbed her ass and then left to go deal with the mixer.

The waiter had been doing his job and started to confirm orders, “So that's five miso soup, four seaweed salad, three soy burger dinner, two tofu dog platter, and one pasta with meatless balls.”

One of the boys looked around, “Ew.”

Namjoon stood up for himself, “It tastes the same.”

Hyuna giggled, “If you close your eyes.”

“And thirteen orders of fries. Is that it here?” The deep voiced Australian asked.

A chorus of, “Wine and beer!” came back at him.

Hyuna and Key made eye contact and jumped on the table to play patty cake, “To hand-crafted beers made in local breweries. To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese.” the two faked sharing a plastic phallus for this next part. “To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo. To huevos rancheros and Maya Angelou.”

Namjoon and Hwasa joined in, “Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion. Creation, vacation.”

Hui held a very shaken can of sprite near his crotch and pointed it towards Mr. Grey, “Mucho masturbation.” the white foam sprayed all over him.

The performer and computer genius continued, “Compassion, to fashion, to passion when it's new.”

“To Sontag.” Namjoon said.

And Key picked up, “To Sondheim.”

Four of their friends body rolled in unison after climbing on top of their table, “To anything taboo.” but also in various positions.

Hyojong and Joon faced each other, “Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunningham, and Cage.”

“Lenny Bruce!” Namjoon referenced E’Dawn’s form.

Hyojong did the same, “Langston Hughes!”

The ever dramatic Hwasa reached to the lights and exclaimed, “To the stage!”

“To Uta” A silver haired girl in combat boots said.

“To Buddha.” Namjoon added.

J-Hope included, “Pablo Neruda, too.”

Walking down the table was Hyuna pretending to have Hui on a leash as he walked on all fours as they sang, “Why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow to blow off Auntie Em!”

Several people joined in to give the businessmen the middle finger but in more...polite ways before yelling, “La vie Bohème!”

Maman was back, so Hwasa went to meet her, “And wipe the speakers off before you pack.”

“Yes, jagi.”

“Well, hurry back.” The short haired performer kissed her lawyer girlfriend.

Mr. Grey raised his eyebrow, “Sister?”

In unison, they played dumb, “We're close.”

And they parted ways to show Namjoon being tackled and kissed by Key while everyone joked, “Brothers!”

Then everyone began partying a bit harder, “Bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens, Carcinogens, hallucinogens, men, Pee-wee Herman. German wine, turpentine, Gertrude Stein, Antonioni, Bertolucci, Kurosawa. Carmina Burana. To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, ecstasy.”

They jumped on and off of furniture, “Vaclav Havel, The Sex Pistols, 8BC! To no shame, never playing the Fame Game.”

Namjoon held a fake blunt, “To marijuana!”

Again things went sexual with people on top of other people and maybe another person just for the hell of it, “To sodomy. It's between God and me! To S & M!”

Hyuna in particular slid close to Mr. Grey and started to pull his tie sexily. He backed up in fear since he was a married man who actually loved his wife.

“Waiter... Waiter... Waiter!”

The waiter then arrived and separated the two, giving Hyuna a look and trying not to smirk so that he could keep his job.

“La vie Bohème!”

Namjoon grabbed a salt shaker and began to use it as a microphone, “In honor of the death of bohemia, an impromptu salon will commence immediately following dinner. Kim Hyuna,” The woman herself began to do the dance she usually did on stage. “Clad only in bubble wrap will perform her famous lawn chair-handcuff dance to the sounds of iced tea being stirred.”

She laughed and covered her red lips as she was helped down by E’Dawn who announced, “And Lee Hwitaek will preview his new documentary about his inability to hold an erection on high holy days.”

Hui bent the now empty mayo bottle to make it look like he couldn’t get it up and then set it on the table, “And Hwasa, back from her spectacular one-night engagement at the eleventh street lot, will sing traditional Korean monk chants backwards through her vocoder, while accompanying herself on the electric cello, which she has never studied.”

Hyuna was taken aside by Choongmin who spoke to her in private, “Your new boyfriend doesn't know about us.”

She looked away from him, “There's nothing to know.”

“Don't you think that we should discuss --”

“It was three months ago.”

“He doesn't act like he's with you.” “We're taking it slow.” She shot back. Unlike their former relationship.

He scoffed, “Where is he now?”

“He's right-- She whipped around and pointed to where he just was a few seconds ago. “Um..”

“Uh huh…” Choongmin said.

Where'd he go?

Hui was the next to proclaim, “And E’Dawn will attempt to write a bittersweet, evocative song.”

Hyojong had realized the electric guitar on stage was abandoned and had to go to it. He played a simple line. The one he always played.

His friend rolled his eyes, “That doesn't remind us of Musetta's Waltz”

Namjoon grabbed the saltshaker back, “And THE Kim Kibum will model the latest fall fashions from Paris while accompanying herself on the 10 gallon plastic pickle tub.”

Key beamed at his love, “And Collins will recount his exploits as anarchist, including the tale of the successful reprogramming of the M.I.T. virtual reality equipment to self-destruct, as it broadcasts the words:”

Everyone screamed at the top of their lungs, “Actual Reality - ACT UP - Fight AIDS!”

Choongmin called for the check so he could get the hell out of there before things got any worse. Hyuna had had it with Hyojong who was nursing a beer. She shoved his shoulder.

“Excuse me, did I do something wrong? I get invited, then ignored all night long!”

“I've been trying, I'm not lying.” He replied. “No one's perfect, I've got baggage.”

“Life's too short, babe, time is flying! I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine.”

His heart leaked out for a moment, “I should tell you--”

She talked over him, “I've got baggage too.”

“I should tell you--”

The others called for another round of drinks. Then Hyuna’s timer went off.

She sighed, “AZT break.” She took out her bedazzled pill pack.

Hyojong recognized the shape, “You?” He took out his own square package with leaves doodled all over it.

“Me.” She saw it and softened her tone. “You?”

“Noona?”

The blonde looked behind him, and he took her to a place out the back that would allow them to talk without all the music and noise happening inside. He had forgotten jackets but even just being near her was enough warmth to last for now. Also, if he didn’t say something now, he would never say it.

He looked down at this hands, “I should tell you, I'm disaster. I forget how to begin it.”

Hyuna didn’t want any sadness, “Let's just make this part go faster. I have yet to be in it. I should tell you…”

I should tell you. I should tell you. There was so much to tell. I should tell you She went first, “I should tell I blew the candle out just to get back in.”

“I'd forgotten how to smile until your candle burned my skin.” He showed her the small burn scar that was still there from the wax.

I should tell you. I should tell you. I should tell you. I should tell… He looked into her eyes. It was still unsaid how they felt each other, but the look was enough.

“Well, here we go. Now we…” Hyojong reached out to her.

She pulled away, suddenly aware of what this meant, “Oh no.”

He tried again and held out his hand, “I know this something is...here goes.”

“Here goes.” Hyuna put her hand into his.

“Guess so, it's starting to...who knows?”

She nodded, her red hair bobbing with her head, “Who knows?” So many questions passed through their minds. Who knows where this relationship would go? Who goes there, as deep as they were going so soon? Who knows how long it would last? Here goes… For once in their lives they were trusting desire, starting to learn. Walking through fire without a burn. They held each other’s forearms not sure how close to get yet. Clinging a shoulder a leap begins. Stinging and older, asleep on pins.

So here we go. Now we…

Hyojong pulled back this time, suddenly scared again, absolutely terrified of the ending coming faster than he could handle.

“Oh no.”

She touched his hand, “I know.���

This simple understanding made him grab her hand even more tightly than before, “Oh no.”

Who knows where? Who goes there? Here goes.

They kissed not knowing what this would mean in the long run and not knowing how long that run would be.

Hwasa was caught kissing another girl with short red hair and then smiled when she saw her girlfriend entering, quickly going to her as if nothing happened. Maman had seen it though.

“Are we packed?” the black haired girl asked.

“Yes, and by next week I want you to be.” She walked past her now ex.

Confused and crushed, Hwasa asked, “Aein?”

“And you should see, they've padlocked your building and they're rioting on Avenue B.” the Doc Martin wearing woman said. “Choongie called the cops.”

“That fuck!” Hwasa said.

This got her a glare from her ex, “They don't know what they're doing. The cops are sweeping the lot, but no one's leaving. They're just sitting there mooing!”

Now they had even more reason to celebrate, “To Dance!” Someone said, pointing to Hyuna letting her get on the table once more.

“No way to make a living, masochism, pain, perfection, muscle spasms, chiropractors, short careers, eating disorders!”

Everyone pointed to Hui, “Film!”

He stood up and said, “Adventure, tedium, no family, boring locations, dark rooms, perfect faces, egos, money, Hollywood and sleaze!”

“Music!”

Key stood and Vogued on the tables, “Food of love, emotion, mathematics, isolation, rhythm, feeling, power, harmony, and heavy competition!”

“Anarchy!”

This time both Namjoon and Hwasa got up on the table and yelled at the top of their lungs, “Revolution, justice, screaming for solutions. Forcing changes, risk, and danger. Making noise and making pleas!”

They made more lists of what bohemia stood for. Each one of them was Bohemia. To people living with, living with, living with not dying from disease!

With linked wild hearts they cheered, “Let he among us without sin be the first to condemn! La vie Bohème! La vie Bohème! La vie Bohème!”

Hui came out of the fray and spoke with pride, “Anyone out of the mainstream? Is anyone in the mainstream? Anyone alive with a sex drive!”

“Or lack of!” A cute short person with an ace spectrum flag pin spoke up, getting a smile from the others.

“Tear down the wall, aren't we all? The opposite of war isn't peace...it’s creation!”

“Woooooooo! La vie Bohème…” The customers had turn the place into a beautifully crazy ruckas.

Hui goes to the top floor and records from the window as he narrates, “The riot continues as the Christmas tree goes up in flames.”

Fire engulfed twinkling lights and plastic bristles. The snow dances. Oblivious, Hyuna and Hyojong share a small tender kiss as they escaped out the back to go home or somewhere for the two of them to just talk. It wasn’t that small, but it was tender. Passionate. Hui worked on collecting footage and thought of selling it.

Inside were yells of, “Viva la vie Bohème!”

[hcavensarrow]

Apparently even monsters are subject to laws and, if they’re broken, legal ramifications, thanks to the Tsukishita. “Isn’t it kind of a dick move to make monsters follow laws?,” you (justifiably) wonder, to which I respond--actually, not as much as you’d think. Allow me to explain:

Laws surrounding local intelligent magical beings (aptly nicknamed the “Yo-Kai Laws” - there’s a formal title the documentation goes by that’s way too dry and tedious for me to even bother coming up with) were actually created largely by - or at least, with the input of - local clans of various yo-kai. This was a long time ago, probably within the first half century of the Tsukishita’s existence, way back before any living (human) memory. (There might be a dragon spirit of a local river who still remembers, though. Who’s to say.)

See, before the yo-kai laws were formalized, there was nothing to say that the Tsukishita wouldn’t just run around slaughtering anything and everything magical, as stupid humans are occasionally known to do, or that they wouldn’t punish these yo-kai for doing the things they simply needed to do to, you know, survive. The Yo-Kai Laws are really less of rules for the non-humans to abide by and more guidelines for the Tsukishita to define what is and isn’t a transgression worth punishing. Technically speaking, they are still written in the sense of laws as they apply to the yo-kai, though. If anything, it’s less of a set of laws as it is a treaty. To boil these down to the bare basics:

1. In general, wanton murder is a no-no. One person dies*? You’ll probably get a pass from the Tsukishita, since they have bigger fish to fry, but if you’re running around tormenting an entire village, demanding sacrifices, regularly drowning people for standing anywhere near your river bank (lookin’ at you, kappa), pillaging, and generally wreaking enough havoc, you’re on their shit list. Kidnapping is also generally frowned upon (outside the case of agreed upon rules--e.g., for the fae, accepting food or drink in their courts, stepping into a faerie circle, etc.; that’s all fair game, technically speaking. It also took a long time and a lot of new clauses for the fae specifically to agree to anything when the Tsukishita presented them with these laws several decades later.) Following that,

2. Defending your territory is acceptable, but with some restriction. For example, if your territory is a river that runs through a local village, maybe don’t drown people on the daily. Honestly, this tends to be the most morally gray area within these laws, since they don’t have a definitive verdict on defending territory from humans who intend to build there, but those have consistently been handled on a case-by-case basis without too much conflict in result. (See #5 for detail on why that is.) 

3. Also, and this would be the biggest one--don’t conspire against the gods. Don’t try to fuck up the natural order of things. Just... don’t do it. This rule also justifies the ‘purifying’ (read: killing) of any corrupted yo-kai who have been overtaken by a more malicious sort of monster, such as spirits of destruction and war (if you’re familiar with Noragami, think akin to Phantoms--creatures born of human corruption, negative emotion, etc.), on the basis that those sorts of creatures are inherently juxtaposed to the gods. 

4. On the flip side, however, the yo-kai laws also promise intelligent yo-kai protection from humans with malicious intent against their kind as well. While this is fairly uncommon, there have been cases where humans have tried to pull shit like this and occasionally with enough numbers that it was an issue. When help is needed or these yo-kai deem it morally necessary for the Tsukishita to step in, they provide their aid as needed.

4.5. This rule didn’t really extend to oni until a bit more recently due to their, like, whole deal. While oni are largely troublemakers there are a few select individuals and sects that act in more of a protective role to ward off bad luck and such--these cases are known to the Tsukishita and came to agreement with them regarding the Yo-Kai Laws over time. (In modern verse, it actually applies to most oni, if only because they’re less of a threat in modern times, and, like, a lot of the trouble they cause can be handled by normal human law enforcement) But for the most part? Momotaro ain’t getting punished any time soon.

5. If there’s ever any question as to what to do, defer to the gods. As direct servants of the gods, the Tsukishita ultimately answer to them--meaning if the gods want something killed, they’ll kill it. If they don’t want something killed, that something stays alive. In less clear-cut cases the Tsukishita will often use a priest or priestess to contact the gods in order to act as a “judge” of sorts.

6*. These rules are intentionally written to be as general as possible in order to encompass as many intelligent species of monster and magical being as possible, including those of different cultural backgrounds (such as the fae, western dragons, trolls, etc.); generally speaking, the Yo-Kai Laws are applied to all intelligent species for the sake of maintaining a certain standard, with certain clauses denoting very specific exceptions (again, see the fae in #1) for the sake of maintaining peaceful(ish) relations with certain species. Most large yo-kai clans of kitsune, tanuki, etc. within Japan are aware of these rules simply by exposure over the years and sharing the ideas from generation to generation, and they remain generally accepted. 

* - Vampires are always the exception. Vampires have no rights. Vampires are not protected under the constitution. (It’s the undead thing.)

[not-poignant]

Thoughts on worldbuilding? What's your process? What's your standard for 'complete enough' to start writing the actual story? Any general advice?

*

Out of both curiosity and my own edification–How fleshed out do you have an idea before you start writing the story? Like, do you start when you have a whole cast, setting, and significant plot figured out, or do you plunge in when you have a feeling and figure it out on the way? @somethingcarefreealwayschanging​

*

I got two asks about this from two different people, so I’m combining them!

Firstly, worldbuilding is different for everyone. My process for worldbuilding is actually different for each story. Some stories I do hardly any work on before I get started (The Golden Age that Never Was), and some I do a lot of research on before I get started (Blackwood).

How fleshed out do you have an idea before you start writing the story? 

Not that fleshed out, honestly. I really don’t like super thorough worldbuilding? It actually puts me off writing and sometimes means I am closed off to better ideas as I go. It’s different for everyone, but for me, leaving a window open for improvisation etc. makes me a better writer, and often gives me loopholes if I accidentally write myself into a corner.

For example, when I started The Golden Age that Never Was, these are the characters I wasn’t aware of / didn’t exist in my mind: Flitmouse, Sharpwood, Eva, Anton. I didn’t know how I was going to end the story. I didn’t know about Grisaille, or exactly what had happened with the Light/Dark. I didn’t have a chapter plan. I didn’t have my major plot points, lol.

The Ice Plague, which is much more planned and book 1 has a chapter plan etc. I still didn’t know that Gille Dubh was going to be in the story until I wrote him in. I’ve already had to move some things around (introduce some things earlier etc.) because Mosk and Eran are moving faster than I thought they would. I have three books of worldbuilding there, mostly on fae and fae lore etc. for Fae Tales, but I still change things, or deviate away.

I mean sometimes my chapter plan is just: ‘Chapter 4 - they fight, bad outcome.’

Anyway, now some technical crap:

Pros/Cons for thorough worldbuilding:

(The examples I’d put here are sadly not yet published. Though I’d tentatively put The Court of Five Thrones under this category.)The Ice Plague: Book 1

Pro - You have a good sense of the world and often need to research less while writing the story. This can help with story flow and writer’s block. Pro - It may give you a security net / safety blanket while writing. Pro - It’s easier to hit your pacing and plot beats in a timely manner, because you can pre-plan for them to happen when they’re ‘supposed’ to. Pro - You can get a clear sense of your character development early, and always be heading towards major character and plot beats. Pro - You have a solid world set up for future stories set in that world.Pro - You can pick the very best parts of your worldbuilding for your story.

Con - If you adhere too strictly to your plan, you may get ‘stuck’ at a point that is just boring or was badly thought out, and this can prevent story flow and create writer’s block if you’re inflexible. Con - I know a lot of writers who get so stuck in worldbuilding, they never write. If you are someone who loves worldbuilding, but has been stuck in a world you want to write for years and have no words to show for it, it’s time to stop worldbuilding and start writing. Con - It’s easy to intimidate yourself out of writing the story. Con - It’s possible to bore yourself out of the story because you’ve planned so much, you’ve ‘experienced’ it and no longer want to write it. Con - You will take the longest to get to actual writing out of every category.Con - The majority of your research and notes - some 95% usually - will never make it into your story, and your readers will never get to appreciate how awesome the foundations are.

Skills you’ll need to learn:

1. How to get off your ass and actually write. If you’re spending years in world-development, and you want to be a writer and not a worldbuilder you have a huge fucking block.

2. How you want to store your information. Word? Scrivener? Google Docs? On Paper?

3. How to be flexible or maintain flexibility so that, when necessary, you can break from your thorough worldbuilding to make a better story.

4. How to bite the bullet and say ‘right, this is enough worldbuilding, it’s time to write.’ I recommend setting a deadline and sticking to it. You can still worldbuild after that, but only in concert with writing / producing content.

Pros/Cons for some-but-not-lots of worldbuilding:

Examples:

Into Shadows We Fall Deeper Into The Woods Inmates

Pro - Lots of room for improvisation, because let’s face it, your planning brain hasn’t lived the story yet, so doesn’t technically know what’s best for any given scene. Pro - Still have a security net while writing, though it’s thinner, with bigger holes in it, lol. Sometimes it won’t catch you. Pro - Room to ‘build the world as you write.’ This might be more convenient, especially when it comes to characterisation. Living the character through writing them often gives a better sense of what they need. Pro - Whatever you focused in on, will probably shine through as a strength. If you dialogue research, your dialogue will be strong. If you setting research, your setting will be strong. Pro - Best of both planning and non-planning worlds, meaning you get to start writing faster, and have more structure than the ‘by the seat of your pants’ writer.

Con - You will write yourself into cul de sacs. Because you haven’t pre-plotted everything, sometimes you will write yourself into corners. You may be good at improvising, but it still feels like shit to realise you might have generated a plot hole or a dead end. Con - The security net has big holes in it. Chances are while writing, you may end up researching something unexpected for two weeks. This can break writing flow. Con - You may need to invent significant plot and characters as you go. Con - Depending on what you’ve dropped, they will be your weaknesses. If you didn’t research character ‘voice and accent’, your dialogue may be weak. If you didn’t thoroughly pin down plot, your plot may be weak. Con - If you are still learning how to improvise, or don’t find a certain amount of ‘terror while writing’ fun as an experience, just not knowing what’s coming may give you writer’s block.

Skills you’ll need to learn.

1. How to be a good improvisor / actor when in a pinch.

2. How to ‘research as you go’ without breaking writing flow. Maybe you write what you need to, and add the worldbuilding back in. Maybe you pause writing and research until you feel confident again (me), or maybe you break up the days so some are ‘writing only’ days and some are ‘research only’ days. The ELEPHANT trick will help you.

3. You still need to know how to worldbuild, you’re just doing it differently. So all the skills of research and structuring and building - you can’t avoid those.

4. Where to see the holes in your structure, and consciously work on those not being weaknesses when you’re writing them.

Pros/Cons of never planning a damn thing, and just starting to write based on an idea:

Examples:

Stuck on the PuzzleThe Golden Age that Never Was The Wildness Within From the Darkness We Rise Game TheoryThe Wind that Cuts the Night

Pro - It’s a lot of fun, lol. Pro - Making it up as you go often means the story has a fresh feel, and your pacing is sometimes more organic, because you’re following the real-time pacing in your body/mind. Pro - You never need to look at a single research document for the most part, especially in the beginning, meaning that you never have to break your writing flow in this way. Pro - You never have to think ‘how will I work this thing into the story that I wanted to work into the story.’ Pro - You learn to trust yourself and your organic storytelling skills. It’s great for unlocking trust in yourself, and there are enough published stories written with this method that it doesn’t prevent you from publishing either. Pro - You can literally start right this second. There is no delay. Usually faster output of stories. Pro - If you’re used to pre-planning, this is actually a great way to get back in contact with who you are as a writer, and refresh your brain! Doing this every now and then let’s you learn how much you’ve grown!Pro - This method doesn’t mean ‘no worldbuilding’ - it just means doing it as you go! You’re still going to end up with documents about the rules and structure of your world and characters for longer stories.

Con - These stories get abandoned most frequently halfway through due to hitting cul de sacs or deadends. A lot of WIPs on AO3 started out like this. Con - Sometimes you just want to write one moment and you don’t have a story, as soon as you write that moment, you’re going to stop writing. That’s fine, but…yeah. Con - No safety net. I hope you don’t like feeling secure in what you’re writing.Con - If you have minimal trust in yourself or your skills, or minimal understanding of story structure in general, you may just end up with a super rambling mess that doesn’t have a plot / with thin characters. Con - Plot holes. Inconsistencies. ‘Oh wait I didn’t know that was so important I need to go back and add some foreshadowing / introduce that character earlier.’ Con - The editing process for publication might really suck. Con - Advanced process, may be impossible to do this well in long stories until you have more experience. (But you may not care about doing it well, you just may want to be writing. Consider: NaNoWriMo usually falls into this category).Con - This method doesn’t mean ‘no worldbuilding’ - so if you hate worldbuilding, I’m sorry, you’re still going to have to do it.

Skills you’ll need to learn:

1. How to tell a story without relying on pre-planning that story.

2. To do this well for long stories, this is an advanced mode and not recommended for beginners. You need writing practice!

3. How to trust yourself as a storyteller.

4. How to use your story as the worldbuilding process. (This means also, editing out infodumping that you were doing for yourself, but that readers don’t need to know).

5. Really great editing skills.

6. How to get yourself out of a corner, or how to do the writing equivalent of a three-point-turn when you hit a dead-end.

7. How to generate more ‘big moments’ once you’ve written your big moment, so that you actually get a story, instead of just writing a big moment, lol.

***

These are not static processes either. Something you start off with no planning you may suddenly take a break on and do a lot of really thorough worldbuilding (see: Game Theory). Something that you start off with ALL the planning you may realise like, idk, 70% of your planning is redundant when you actually start writing, and need to scrap it and improvise.

Tl;dr, I do lots of different kinds of worldbuilding, though I do ‘super thorough worldbuilding’ the least. It’s definitely possible to see which categories you prefer, and troubleshoot each one. :D