#although one day i hope my answer will be les mis i keep trying to read it

[bashsbooks]

for bonus points, tell me what book it was!

[kira-bitz]

Edd was already fed up with his situation. How had it come to this? Well, the events have not happened long ago, they were still fresh in his memory.

And it was that his parents didn't saw with good eyes that, as he grew up, Edd developed a greater interest in cartoons and comics. Even traditional arts like painting and sculpture were alternatives they were willing to accept for their oldest son, but comics? Animations? He wasn't even talented enough to stand out from the crowd and have a promising future. This is how, when Edd mentioned his intention to study animation after finishing his studies at school, his father didn't hesitate to give him an ultimatum:

- Either you choose a traditional career as how it has to be, or you finance them by your own.

Edd already saw that answer coming, so he wasn't discouraged by his father's words. In a way he understood his fear, but that wasn't going to stop him, he would prove to them that he could fulfill his dream with or without their help. He had already planned what to do in advance, because due to the great income of money from his family, he knew that the loan or grant options wouldn't allow him to cover much of the cost of his studies if he continued living with them, so he was already focused in finding a part-time job. On the other hand, his friends Matt and Tom told him about their intentions to share a flat, in order to live in a more central place. Nothing could go wrong.

But there he was a year later, exhausted from the fifth merchandise landing of the night at the supermarket. Too tired to get home and get on with his college projects, he just wanted a shower and sleep. Wasn't there another type of work that drained less of his energy? A job that didn't take up so many hours of his day?

This is how Edd began to investigate in different places, increasingly corrupt sites, until in one of them reached at his ears the information of a certain business that was done in a night pool club, where in exchange for "requests" of clients a good sum of money was paid. Edd hesitated to try after seeing what kind of requests there were, but one in particular caught his eye.

“A guy on my campus constantly harasses me. I have denounced him repeatedly, but I haven't received a response from the authorities since he has not physically attacked me. I just want to give him the scare of his life so he can leave me alone. I'm scared."

Edd thought about it for a moment as he looked at the contact number attached to the application and the amount to be received for said service. He was tall, maybe not the most muscular boy, but he had knowledge of fights from his most rebellious school years. Plus, he had a pretty convincing dummy gun. Maybe... he could try.

When the day came, Edd took one last look at the photo of a blond young man to confirm that it was the same one he was watching casually walking down the sidewalk in front of him. He crossed the street while pulling on his hood and shoved the boy shorter than him into the alley, away from the public view. He grabbed him by the neck almost lifting him off the ground as the guy emitted little screams of terror:

- I know you, George Smith. I know where you live, your boring schedule, and that you were now on your way to see your friends Tyler and Henry at the place a few blocks from here. Too bad I'll have to spoil your fun.

Wide-eyed in sheer terror, the smaller guy watched as Edd took his gun from his back pocket, pulled the hammer and aimed it at George's head.

- If I see you near Miss Emily Brown again, I will come for you again, and I will not be alone.

Between screeches and gasps from George from the tight grip, Edd slammed his knee into his stomach, completely knocking the air out of his lungs. Finally, before George could catch his breath, and with one swift movement, Edd hit George over the head with his gun, knocking him out instantly.

The tallest one looked at the scene for a second and felt the adrenaline rush inside him. He has never felt something like this. It reminded him a bit of the school fights of yesteryear but with a much greater intensity. He felt control and uncontrolled at the same time. He liked it.

Slowly, Edd began to take more and more requests from people he called "in a situation of need for not acting of the law" sometimes allying with others like him when the service required more than one individual, and even going so far as to buy a real gun and learn how to use it to take less risk. With this new inflow of money, he could leave his other job since in less hours he was earning much more, he could pay for his studies without problem, improve his work team and pay the rent for his home.

And so he did, the day his new computer and drawing tablet arrived was the happiest day of his life. Tom and Matt were undoubtedly happy for him and when he finally had everything set up he called them over to see his latest model equipment. Edd didn't expect them to come into his room filming and celebrating the fruit of so much hard work. Between congratulations they took one last photo to keep for the memory.

- Thanks guys. You are the best.

Finally, already in the darkness of the night, an Edd could be seen without being able to sleep. Since, although in a couple of years he should no longer have the need to continue with this work, something had awakened in his being that said that what began as a need, was turning into an obsession.

---

Well here I brought the first promised backstory of the boys in the EW Lone Digger AU. I hope you like it! Please remember that this is fiction and that threatening people is bad, carrying weapons is bad, illegality is bad, etc asdfg.

And there is a small cameo of Ghost Friends since I will be part of the team of the first episode as character designer and that makes me happy 💖.

I take this opportunity to comment it is very likely that next week I will open commissions again, but I must adjust the prices and it will be probably 5 slots only for now.

Y para mi gente hispanohablante, abajo del Seguir Leyendo se encuentra la versión en español 😘

Edd ya estaba harto de su situación. ¿Cómo había llegado a esto? Bueno, los sucesos no habían ocurrido hace mucho, aún seguían frescos en su memoria.

Y es que sus padres no vieron con buenos ojos que, a medida que crecía, Edd desarrollaba un interés mayor por las caricaturas e historietas. Incluso artes tradicionales como pintura y escultura eran alternativas que estaban dispuestos a aceptar para su hijo mayor, pero ¿comics? ¿animaciones? Ni siquiera tenía tanto talento como para destacar del montón y tener un futuro prometedor. Así fue como, cuando Edd les mencionó sus intenciones de estudiar animación al terminar sus estudios en el colegio, su padre no dudó en darle un ultimátum:

- O eliges una carrera tradicional como corresponde, o la financias por tu cuenta.

Edd ya veía venir esa respuesta, por lo no se desanimó con las palabras de su padre. De cierta forma entendía su temor, pero eso no iba a detenerlo, les probaría que podía cumplir su sueño con o sin su ayuda. Ya tenía planificado qué hacer de antemano, pues debido a la gran entrada de dinero de su familia, sabía que las opciones de préstamos o subvenciones no le permitirían cubrir gran parte del valor de sus estudios si seguía viviendo con ellos, así que ya estaba mentalizado en encontrar un trabajo de medio tiempo. Por otra parte, sus amigos Matt y Tom le habían comentado sus intenciones de compartir un piso, para de esta forma vivir en un lugar más céntrico. Nada podría salir mal.

Pero ahí estaba un año después, agotado por del quinto desembarque de mercadería de la noche en el supermercado. Muy cansado como para llegar a casa y avanzar en sus proyectos universitarios, solo quería una ducha y dormir. ¿No existía otro tipo de trabajo que drenara menos de su energía? ¿Un trabajo que no ocupara tantas horas de su día?

Así fue como Edd se dedicó a investigar en diferentes sitios, sitios cada vez más corruptos, hasta que en uno de ellos llegó a sus oídos la información de cierto negocio que se hacía en un club de pool nocturno, donde a cambio de “solicitudes” de clientes se pagaba una buena suma de dinero. Edd, al ver el tipo de solicitudes que se habían dudó en intentarlo, pero uno en particular le llamó la atención.

“Un sujeto del campus me acosa constantemente. Lo he denunciado en reiteradas ocasiones, pero no he tenido respuesta de las autoridades ya que no me ha agredido físicamente. Solo quiero que le den el susto de su vida para que me deje en paz. Tengo miedo.”

Edd lo pensó un momento mientras observaba el número de contacto adjunto a la solicitud y el monto a recibir por dicho servicio. Él era grande, tal vez no el chico más musculoso, pero tenía conocimiento en peleas de su etapa escolar más rebelde. Además, tenía un arma falsa bastante convincente. Quizás… podría intentarlo.

Llegado el día, Edd miró por última vez la foto de un joven rubio para corroborar que era el mismo al que estaba observando caminar despreocupadamente por la vereda de en frente. Cruzó la calle mientras se colocaba la capucha y empujó al chico más pequeño que él al callejón, alejándolos de la vista pública. Lo sujetó del cuello casi levantándolo del suelo mientras el chico emitía pequeños chillidos de terror. Sacó su arma y apuntó a su cabeza:

- Te conozco, George Smith. Sé dónde vives, tu aburrido horario y que ahora te dirigías a ver a tus amigos Tyler y Henry en el local a unas cuadras de aquí. Lástima que tendré que arruinar tu diversión.

Con los ojos abiertos de puro terror, el chico más pequeño vió cómo Edd tomaba su arma del bolsillo trasero, jalaba el percutor y apuntaba a la cabeza de George.

- Si te vuelvo a ver cerca de la señorita Emily Brown vendré nuevamente por ti, y no estaré solo.

Entre chillidos y sonidos ahogados de George por el fuerte agarre, Edd le propinó un golpe seco con la rodilla a su estómago, sacándole completamente el aire de los pulmones. Finalmente, antes de que George pudiera recuperar el aliento, y con un rápido movimiento, Edd golpeó a George en la cabeza con su arma, noqueándolo instantáneamente.

El más alto miró por un segundo la escena y sintió cómo la adrenalina corría en su interior. Nunca había sentido algo así. Le recordó un poco a las peleas escolares de antaño pero con una intensidad mucho mayor. Sintió control y descontrol a la vez. Le gustó.

Poco a poco, Edd empezó a tomar cada vez más solicitudes de gente que él llamaba “en situación de necesidad por el no actuar de la ley”, a veces aliándose con otros como él cuando el servicio requería más de un individuo, e incluso llegando a comprar un arma real y aprender a usarla para correr menos riesgos. Con esta nueva entrada de dinero podría dejar su otro trabajo ya que en menos horas ganaba mucho más, podría pagar sus estudios sin problema, mejorar su equipo de trabajo y pagar la renta de su hogar.

Y así lo hizo, el día que llegó su nuevo computador y tableta gráfica fue el día más alegre de su vida. Tom y Matt estaban indudablemente felices por él y cuando por fin tuvo todo instalado los llamó para que vieran su equipamiento último modelo. Edd no esperaba que entraran a su habitación grabando y festejando el fruto de tanto trabajo duro. Entre felicitaciones tomaron una última foto para guardar para el recuerdo.

- Gracias chicos. Son los mejores.

Finalmente, ya en la oscuridad de la noche, se pudo ver a un Edd sin poder conciliar el sueño. Puesto que, aunque en un par de años ya no tendría la necesidad de seguir con este trabajo, algo había despertado en su ser que le decía que lo que empezó como una necesidad, se estaba convirtiendo en una obsesión.

[storiesforallfandoms]

for the revolution ~ enjolras;les mis

word count: 2101

request?: no

description: she wants to fight for her country, but he won’t let her, so she decides to disguise herself

pairing: enjolras x female!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, death, mentions of steamy stuff at the beginning

masterlist

i watched les mis for the first time last night, so if this has an inaccuracies please forgive me as i’m currently writing after one viewing (also i’m gonna be changing how it all ends just for a more fluffy ending instead of a sad one)

His body was pressed against hers, both of their bodies still stuck together with sweat. Enjolras’ lips gently grazed her neck, causing her to giggle every time he touched her sweet spot.

It took a lot of will power, but finally Enjolras separated himself from her. He began to stand, only for (Y/N) to take hold of his hand and pull him back into the bed.

“Must you go already?” she asked with a pout.

“I have to meet with the boys,�� he told her, although he moved his arms around her to hold her close.

“You’re starting a revolution tomorrow, you can spend one night with your girlfriend. Especially since you are leaving me tomorrow.”

Enjolras sighed and kissed the top of (Y/N)’s head. “Not this again, my love. You know I am leaving you for your own safety.”

(Y/N) propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at her boyfriend. “I do not understand why you won’t let me join you lot. Gavroche is fighting with you, and he is a child!”

“You know it has nothing to do with your gender, as you keep insisting it is. It is because I cannot stand the thought of you being hurt. This is my fight, our fight, this isn’t a fight for you.”

(Y/N) cupped Enjolras’ face. “It is our fight, Enjolras.”

He sighed and pulled away from her. He turned his back to her as to make it easier to dress himself to leave. He knew that if he looked at (Y/N)’s face he would cave and stay with her. He promised his men he would meet them tonight, he had to meet them tonight. They started their revolt in the morning.

(Y/N) watched sadly as Enjolras reluctantly pulled his clothes on. She understood that he was just worried for her safety, but (Y/N) was also worried for his. She knew how dangerous this was going to be, she knew that the policemen would not stand down against the Friends of the ABC, and neither would Enjolras and his friends.

She just wanted to protect him, and to fight for her country at his side. She wanted to be a part of history.

Enjolras turned to look at (Y/N) one more time. She looked up at him with those beautiful eyes that he loved more than anything. He approached the bed and leaned over to gently kiss her forehead.

“I will come back to you, my love,” he promised.

“I will be waiting,” she responded.

Enjolras smiled. He had to pull himself away from her before convincing himself to stay.

Once the door closed behind him, (Y/N) softly counted to 60, making sure he was gone and that he wasn’t coming back, before she quickly jumped up from the bed. She made quick work of collecting some of the clothes Enjolras had left at her place and pulling them on. They were very obviously big, but nothing too suspicious. And they covered any...identifying features on her body.

She picked up one of Enjolras’ hats and stuffed her hair underneath it. There was no way to change her face, the face that Enjolras knew so well. She just had to hope that he wouldn’t see her, or that none of his friends would recognize her face.

Her heart was racing as she made her way to the pub that she knew the Friends of the ABCs always met at. When she arrived, they were already setting up the barricades. She was quick to join, trying to blend in the best she could.

“Oi! Who are you?” asked one of the men. (Y/N) recognized him as Joly, one of Enjolras’ friends. He was looking at her long and hard, waiting for her response. She privately prayed that he wouldn’t recognize her.

“I-I - ” she stuttered, trying to come up with an answer.

“She’s with us Joly.”

Another familiar face came to (Y/N)’s aid, but this one, much like her, was dressed in a disguise.

“You don’t have to be so suspicious over everyone, Joly, she is just a young buck like us,” Eponine said, putting an arm around your shoulder. “Come, arm yourself.”

She led (Y/N) away from a still suspicious looking Joly.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) whispered to her brave friend as she picked a gun and shoved it into the waistband of Enjolras’ pants.

“The same as you apparently,” Eponine responded. “I want to be part of the revolution, and I’m trying to look out for Marius.”

(Y/N) followed Eponine’s longing gaze towards the man she had been hopelessly in love with for years; Enjolras’ best friend Marius. Her heart ached for Eponine, especialyl with the latest news that Marius had fallen in love with a strange, blonde girl.

“I just want to be a part of the revolution,” (Y/N) told her friend. “Enjolras refuses to let me take part, but I want to fight for this country. You cannot tell him I’m here, please.”

“Of course, they don’t even know that I am here,” Eponine promised. “Just...stay safe, please.”

(Y/N)’s eyes trailed back to Marius, who was now talking to Enjolras. She looked at the man she loved, imagining the devastating heartbreak he would feel if he lost her on that day.

“I will,” she told Eponine. “I promise.”

~~~~~~

The watch was boring at first. Little excitement happened, besides the reveal of an undercover police officer trying to infiltrate the barricades.

(Y/N) was sat behind the barricade, huddled next to another of the men, when a shot rang out. She quickly looked over and felt her heart break when she saw little Gavroche holding a bullet wound with one blood soaked hand.

“No!” she exclaimed before she could stop herself. “He’s a child, leave him alone!”

Another shot rang out, hitting Gavroche again. He stumbled this time, his skin turning deathly pale. A final shot deafened (Y/N)’s ears, but she couldn’t tell from what side the shot had come as one of the police officers fell at the same time that Gavroche did.

She began to climb over the barricade, desperate to get to the lifeless little boy. Someone grabbed her arm and tried to pull her back. “Are you insane?!”

“We can’t leave him out there!” she cried, forgetting to disguise her very feminine voice. “We have to bring him back, we can’t leave him!”

Whoever grabbed her pulled on her arm hard, causing her to spin to face him. (Y/N) came face to face with the blue eyes and curly blonde hair she loved more than anything.

“(Y/N),” Enjolras breathed.

(Y/N) pulled her arm free from her boyfriend’s grasp before he could say anything else. She pulled her gun from her waistband and began to fire on the closing officers.

A sense of pride swelled in her as she watched officers fall from her gunfire. The other men followed suit, climbing from their hidden spots and opening fire. They were outnumbered, but they weren’t going down without a fight.

(Y/N) saw the officers coming closer to Gavroche’s body. She looked over her shoulder at Enjolras, who was busy trying to battle himself. She took a deep breath and leaped over the barricade, quickly sliding down to cradle Gavroche’s small body in her arms.

He felt weightless as she lifted him. His whole life ahead of him, taken by those damned officers. (Y/N) had started back up the barricade when she felt a stabbing pain run through her shoulder. She screamed in pain but refused to back down. She was near the top when another searing pain shot through her stomach, causing her to exclaim in pain again.

One of their men took Gavroche from her as another pulled (Y/N) the rest of the way. At some point, she had lost the hat concealing her hair, but she didn’t care anymore. She laid back against the barricade, one hand covering the wound on her stomach. She winced as she put some pressure on it in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

“Out of the way!”

Through her blurring vision (Y/N) could see Enjolras as he knelt in front of her. He looked over her injuries, trying to put pressure on the wound on her shoulder but stopping every time she winced.

“Why did you do this?” he asked her as he pulled her into his arms, cradling her the same way she had cradled Gavroche. “Why did you come like this? Why did you come at all? I told you - ”

“Foolish of you to think I’d listen,” she responded, her voice weak.

Enjolras smiled through the tears forming in his eyes. “You have me there.”

(Y/N) smiled as well before beginning to cough, the taste of something metallic coming up in her mouth. Enjolras held her tightly and kissed her forehead. “Stay awake for me, okay love? We’ll get you help, but you have to stay awake.”

The edges of her view were starting to fill with black spots. “It’s getting hard to see, Enjolras.”

“I know, love, but you have to fight it, okay?” Over the continued gunfire, he shouted, “I need help! Someone, get her some help, please!”

The sounds around her became more and more muffled as the black began to swallow her whole.

And suddenly, she felt nothing.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) woke up some time later. She wasn’t sure how long she had been out. She wasn’t even sure she was alive. She was sure those wounds had killed her, that she was waking up in heaven.

The hot pain coursing through her shoulder and stomach, however, alerted her that this was far from the truth.

She opened her eyes and immediately cringed as the sunlight beamed in through the windows. She closed her eyes as her head pounded from the sudden bright light. Through her closed lids, she could see the light disappear. When she opened them again, she could clearly see the face of Enjolras leaning over her.

“You’re awake,” he said, softly. “I was so scared that you...”

He trailed off as he took her hand in his and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“How long have I been out?” she asked him. Her throat felt raw, from lack of use she assumed.

“A few days,” Enjolras replied.

Her eyes widened. “What? Days? Enjolras, what have I missed? Where is everyone? Have we won?”

“Calm down,” he told her. (Y/N) realized then how painful her wounds felt when she got worked up. “We won.”

Relief washed over her and she couldn’t help but laugh to herself. Enjolras smiled at her response, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

A realization hit her in that moment. “Gavroche.”

Enjolras’ face darkened as he looked down at their intertwined hands. “We...we lost a few good people. Eponine was among them.”

(Y/N)’s heart broke. She felt tears welling in her eyes. “And Marius?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No, Marius made it out. Eponine took a bullet that was meant for him. She...she died in his arms.”

Although the fact that her friend was dead hurt her greatly, (Y/N) was glad to know that Eponine had died in the arms of someone she loved, someone who loved her even if it wasn’t in the same way that she wanted.

“I’m so sorry, Enjolras,” she said, her voice just barley a whisper. “I’m sorry for going against what you asked me to do, and for worrying you like I did. I just...I wanted to - ”

“I know,” he cut her off. “You wanted to fight like the rest of us. I understand. I cannot be mad at you for that. I’m just...I’m so glad you’re alive. I’m glad that I haven’t lost you.”

(Y/N) squeezed his hand. “You’ll never lose me, love. I promise.”

Enjolras smiled and climbed onto the bed next to (Y/N). He took her in his arms and held her close, the way he had that fateful day before the revolution started. He held her tightly to him, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing her again.

(Y/N) settled into Enjolras’ chest, taking in the familiar scent and warmth that came with him. “I’m glad you’re okay, too, love.”

Enjolras smiled to himself and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Rest, love. When you’re feeling better, I’ll take you out into our new world.”

[secret-ssociety]

Behind the scenes

Pairing(s): Aaron Tveit x Reader, Les Mis (2012) cast x Reader

Warnings: This is just fluff. Like one curse

Summary: It is never intended for Enjolras and Eponine to fall in love in the original story, but a lot of things can happen when the cameras are turned off

A/N: I know everyone is waiting for more of the Let Me Down series but I have wanted to do this for a long time bc I am utterly in love with this man and I've always said I don't want to just write Peter Parker's stuff. Might make this several parts, who knows, I like things with parts.

masterlist

requests are open!!

For the first time in the whole day, silence fell upon the set of Les Mis, being only vaguely interrupted by the quiet chatter of everyone else who, unlike you, still had energy to talk. It's not like it was your fault, though, you had no idea of how much running around implied to play Eponine.

Huddled in a quiet corner of what had been built to be the Café Musain, you pushed your knees against your chest and hid your face between them, hoping to catch some rest before Tom decided he wanted to do a scene again. Was it maybe two in the morning? Three? You didn't even know anymore, you weren't allowed to carry a watch around your wrist and your phone was charging in your trailer, but the last time you had checked it was midnight and that had been a few hours ago.

Doing a movie, you had come to learn in your first few days of filming, was quite different from putting up a show. Interacting with your surroundings, going over scenes and even directing your eyes to a certain place while saying your lines was a world away from your common place on stage. You'd had to repress a loud squeak on your first day on set when you saw just how real everything looked, and when you started to try on your garments... you might as well have been a street urchin on Paris, 1832.

A small finger touched your shoulder timidly, waking you up from your fragile sleep and making you lift your head from its place. Your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the light and you even had to squint a little to recognize Daniel standing next to you, looking just as tired, but with a small flame of caffeine dancing in the back of his eyes. Who the fuck gave the kid coffee? You wondered.

"How long do you think they'll keep us here?" he asked sitting next to you. From all your cast mates, Daniel was probably the first one you had grown fond of, but then again, so had everyone.

"Maybe not much longer, unless they want us to be here at noon tomorrow," you answered raising an eyebrow. Being the youngest person on the whole set, you could tell he was trying to hold his own like the adults, drinking coffee and doing his best to stay awake.

The problem with that, you knew, was that caffeine reacted differently on kids and adults: when an adult drinks coffee, it gives them energy for a long period of time, the caffeine is distributed in order to serve the body for good while. When a child drinks coffee, on the other hand, the caffeine gives them a rush of adrenaline that gets them jumping up and down and running circles around the adults, very much like Daniel was doing a while ago, thus burning all the energy they had acquired as fast as they had engorged it.

"You want to rest for a minute?" you asked him, stretching your legs so that he could rest his head on them. He shook his head tiredly, but didn't put up a fight when you grabbed his shoulder and started to lay him down.

Softly, you caressed his hair, while carefully trying to undo the tangles the dirt had made onto his hair to give him that street gamine I-live-in-the-elephant-of-the-Bastille look. In a matter of seconds, he was fully asleep, snoring quietly against the fabric of your skirt.

You heard some of the boys approaching, laughing loudly with cups of steaming coffee on their hands, and were quick to lift your finger up to your lips, to let them know of the resting boy that would be quickly awaken by their laughs. They apologized in whispers, handed you the cup they had brought for you and sat around you.

"Helena is trying to convince them to let us go to the hotel," Alistair commented, although he didn't look tired at all, more like he was amused by everyone else's exhaustion.

You sighed in relief against the cup, which was held close to your lips, making the steam hit your face in a warmth that made you aware of how cold your nose was. Only one gulp of the bitter liquid was enough to warm the blood flowing through your veins and take you back to life, you could open your eyes properly and the first the landed on was one of the most distinctive of your cast mates: Aaron Tveit.

Was there something special about him that made you think of his full name instead of just the first? Yeah, everything. He was the embodiment of the Enjolras Victor Hugo had wrote, the one that had been nicknamed Apollo by his friends. Maybe it was the way he held himself, somehow taller than everyone else, with that revolutionary fire in his eyes and walking around the set like he was actually going to get the people to build a barricade.

Wherever he happened to exist, you couldn't help but feel the presence of an olden god amongst mortals, the time go slower and light to travel in a bliss. There was just something so ethereal about him...

"He's talent, isn't he?" Alistair commented, having followed the direction of your eyes. "Among other things," Eddie joked, perhaps having caught on on the repressed smitten nature of your gaze. Stubbornly, you rolled your eyes.

As if saved by the bell, your director announced that everyone was allowed to go and get some rest, under the condition that you had to be back the next day before lunch. You were so tired, you almost forgot you were on your costume, being remembered by Eddie when you walked straight to the exit.

Up until that day, you had followed you stylist's skincare routine religiously every day after finishing filming, but once you found yourself in your sweatpants and Alistair's sweater, you simply poured water in your face and wiped all the makeup away with a paper towel.

Outside of your trailer, you found at least half of the Amis waiting for you to go grab some pizza while forming a wall to shield a newly caffeinated Daniel from your accusatory eyes. "I just left my cup unattended for a second!" George said quickly. You didn't know if you should laugh or yell at them, but you decided you were too tired to do either, so you simply took his hands and walk with the boys to the minivans the studio had hired for your transportation.

Eating pizza after having barely washed the makeup off of your face and only having a few hours to sleep after? You knew you were going to break out, but that was a tomorrow's problem.

Perhaps it was the magic that gravitated around Aaron that made you look back to see him, walking several feet behind the lot of you and clearly immersed on his thoughts. What you did next wasn't exactly a conscious decision, but it felt as natural as if it were.

"Hey, Tveit," you smiled, stopping before him. He looked surprised for a second, since he hadn't heard you approach him, but then smiled softly at you.

"Hello, Y/L/N," he said back, looking at you with those piercing eyes of him.

"We're going to grab a bite, wanna come?" You asked with a bright smile, one so cute that made it hard for him to say no.

"I don't know, it's late..." he said with half a smile.

"Did you know that pizza wasn't invented until the late half of the 18th century," you said, persistently, making him raise an eyebrow at the random fact, "that means all of our characters died without having ever eaten pizza. Shouldn't we, in order to honor them, do the things they never got to do?"

Aaron tried as hard as he could to fight back a smile at your argument. He had heard from the other guys about your occurrences and funny yet charming way with words, but he still hadn't had a chance to delight himself with it all too much. Maybe you were both too busy, maybe he wasn't as good as he liked to think to break the ice and Alistair had beat him to it.

He was practically convinced already, but still you added, "come on, Enjolras is still going to be here tomorrow morning... er, today a little less morning." You corrected checking the time on your wrist watch.

He was tired and not really hungry, but sill he nodded and followed you to the exit, where the rest of your friends cheered upon his joining.

Thankfully, the place Fra Fee knew was not too far away from the hotel, because none of you would have managed to walk too much after the day you'd had. Pulling a couple of tables together with the help of a waitress who pretended not to be a little starstruck, all of you sat down and ordered. You personally tried to ignore the way Eddie gave you his sit so that you would end up sat next to Aaron.

After ordering three large pizzas and some lemonade, and having grudgingly remembered that you couldn't order a beer or anything of the sort, you resumed your chattery. You soon found that, while you weren't the only theatre actress on the room, you were the only one who had never been on a film before. Still, that didn't mean your previous work had gone unnoticed.

"I was really excited to meet Y/N," Eddie commented on Daniel's side, "because I went to see her in The Phantom of The Opera, in London and I was" he made the gesture of his head blowing up, making you laugh.

"Yes, I knew I had seen you somewhere! You're Christine Daaé!" George exclaimed, interrupting the bite he was about to give to his pizza.

"Didn't you say on the first table reading that your dream role is Esmeralda, from the Hunchback?" Aaron perked up, making you blush a little.

"Esmeralda, Christine and Eponine," Alistair numbered, only giving you time to nod, "are you planning on becoming the Holy Trinity of French Theater?"

"I'll be able to say the Holy Trinity of French Theater died in my arms!"

You almost spilled your lemonade at the exclamation, unable to contain your laughs, very much like everyone else on the table. You didn't mean for your face to be as red as it was in that moment, but you couldn't help it when everyone seemed to be so interested in your past work. Despite attention being your line of work, you didn't know how to handle it that good.

It was when Daniel's adrenaline burnt off, as you had predicted, and he was found too tiresd to even keep his head up that you came back to the hotel, with the quiet company of Aaron, who had also offered to take the young boy back to his room. You were both in silence, though it was not an awkward one, it just wasn't necessary to talk to enjoy the other's company.

"We're getting a cow," he said suddenly, when you were approaching the entrance of the hotel.

"What?" You asked with a confused smile.

"We're getting a cow, on the set, tomorrow," he clarified grinning, "she will be there for the scenes of the barricade."

"Why would a cow be on a barricade?" You questioned with a laugh, opening the door for Aaron, since he was carrying Daniel, and receiving a little thank you in return. "Not that I'm complaining."

He laughed in return and followed you to the elevator, making sure neither the young boy nor the jacket he had put over him fell from his embrace. The cow thing had just been to start conversation and be able to ask what he really wanted to know, although he was a little pumped up about the cow.

"Do you want to do what Alistair said?" He asked curiously, "About being the Holy Trinity of French Theater, it is."

"I had never thought about it that way, but it sounds quite nice," you answer thoughtfully. "Though, I believe I would have to play Eponine on a stage, rather than a set to really earn that title."

"You're not liking movie making so far?" He asked somewhat amused, specially when you whipped your head to look at him with wide eyes.

"No! That's not what I mean," you talked so fast you nearly stumbled through your words, but the kindness on his eyes made you sigh and calm down. "This has been amazing so far and I would never underestimate the huge effort it takes to make one of these. I mean, I've only been doing this for a couple days and I'm already beyond exhaustion. And yet it has been wonderful, the set and the preparation and just seeing all the work it implies is... unbelievable."

You knocked three time on the door, to see Daniel's mother not two seconds later. Aaron had been worried that maybe she would be concerned and even a little mad at how late her son was coming back, but you had been texting her throughout the extra hours of shooting and to let her know you were going to take him to eat something before coming back to the hotel.

She kindly thanked you both, took Daniel (who was still sound sleep) on her arms and gave Aaron his jacket back, to then close the door. Without saying much, he walked you to your own room, prompting you to continue.

"Where was I? Oh, yeah! So filming a movie is... I'm running out of adjectives, but it's really great," he chuckled slightly, "but I don't think it can top the feeling of being on the theater," you sighed dreamily.

"On stage, there is no take two, the things you're doing can only be done once. There's..." your tongue ran through your lips, an action Aaron found almost mesmerizing, as you tried to find the words to describe the thing you loved the most in the world. "There's this feeling, when the show is about to start, the lights dim, the overture starts and you get goosebumps and you heart starts thumping at the moment you come on stage, there's something about that moment being unrepeatable and having the eyes of the crowd on you, the adrenaline is just... is like the identity line that divides the actor from their character disappears and in that moment you're not quite them, but you're not you, you're just..." you let out a breath at the inability to find the word and, for a moment, you worried you might have bored him with your rambling, but he had that bliss over his face, the one only a theatre actor knows and has, that told you he knew exactly what you're talking about.

The next morning, back on set and with your costumes again covering your backs, Aaron found himself so hypnotized by the sight of you rehearsing with Amanda his tea got cold and was utterly scared when Eddie's palm fell onto his back, dragging him out of his day dream.

"Is this the part when the Phantom is stalking Christine?" George asked jokingly, making Aaron roll his eyes.

For someone who made so much fun of him for becoming Enjolras, he had certainly developed Grantaire's mocking nature.

"She's really talented," the blonde man answered nonchalantly, drinking from his tea and making a face when he found out the drink was cold.

"I see," Eddie said handing him his tea, "are you seeing our dear Y/N under a new light?"

Was he? It would be a lie to say he didn't come back to his room with you occupying every single one of his thoughts, his heart fluttering who had managed to put his passion for theatre in words. Had his hands always became a little shaky around you? Yes. But today it was even worse.

Today, your voice giving life to Eponine's thoughts and emotions could make his cheeks blush or bring tears to his eyes in a matter of a second. Today, you walked around with a strange light over you, one that didn't allow him to look away while, at the same time, reprehended him for staring. Today, you were more than an artist, an actress. You were something more than human.

"Nonsense," he replied stubbornly, "I have always known how talented she is."

Before he could get a sarcastic comment or a snide yet friendly remark, the three men's chatter was interrupted by the two previously mentioned ladies rehearsing The Robbery, one of the scenes you planned on filming that day.

"It's the police! Disappear! Run for it!" Your strong soprano voice cut all chattery in one swift motion. "It's Javert!"

He probably held his breath for as long as you held the note. Once you opened your eyes, you seemed a little embarrassed at all the eyes on you, but Aaron didn't understand just what did you have to be embarrassed about.

Eddie shook his shoulder, "breathe, mate!"

[cncofantasias]

“I Am Never Too Busy To Be Your Back Support” - with Richard

Y/n is stressed out from working full time and going to college, she’s put too much on her plate and it isn’t until one day when she’s ignoring Richard all day because she’s studying; that she finally tells him she needs help.

-

It’s 6:32 pm on a Saturday night and you’ve been doing hours of homework all day, you were restless trying to keep up with your growing college workload as well as maintain a full time job. You didn’t have your parents to lean on for tuition support so the only way you could afford to go to college was by working a full time job at night and going to school during the day. Your phone had been on ‘Do Not Disturb’ all day, as you stayed at your desk switching between the pen and the keyboard finishing papers for assignments that were due soon.

Your boyfriend, Richard, had been trying to get in touch with you all day long while he worked in the studio. He began to grow worried that you were mad at him for some reason and ignoring him.

It wasn’t that you were purposely ignoring him, but you didn’t have time to be texting him back & forth when you had so much work to get done with so little time.

-

I glanced at my phone for the 5th time in 10 minutes; I couldn’t believe she hadn’t texted me all day. I racked my brain thinking of all the things that I might’ve done to make her mad at me.

‘Did I forget some sort of birthday? An anniversary?’

‘Did I leave the seat up when I went to her apartment?’

“Ay qué pasa porque te miras tan estresado?”

I sighed and rubbed my head, “y/n hasn’t answered me all day. No entiendo porque y estoy preocupado por ella.”

Christopher nodded his head, “te entiendo porque no te vas temprano y la buscas en su casa a ver si está ahí?”

I nodded and before I responded to him I grabbed my keys and ran out the door to go looking for her.

-

“Therefore... no no no let’s use ‘In so forth’.. se escuche mal eso también..”

I was at the conclusion of my second paper and for some reason nothing was sounding right. “Al carajo! They’re just going to have to take whatever I write y si no le gusta pues puede comer mierda esa vieja —“

The doorbell rang just as I was cussing out my teacher through the paper that I was almost done writing. I glared at the screen one more time, “vas a ver cuando regresó.”

I quickly answered the door to find my poor boyfriend with a worried look on his face. He quickly pulled me into a hug.

“Where have you been huh? Te llamo y llamo, te mando mensaje por mensaje y no me contestas. Dígame porque me tienes aquí preocupado por ti pensando que hice algo mal cuando estás aquí en tu casa todo el día en tus pijamas? Me estabas volviendo loco preocupado que algo te paso o que me estabas ignorando y no sabia que hacer —“

You quickly cut him off pulling him into a hug again as tears started falling from your eyes.

Richard quickly reached and held onto you tight, “mamita I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m so sorry please to cry because of me bebita.”

He rubbed your back as he kept uttering apologizes thinking that he made you cry. You shook your head at him, “tú no me hiciste llorar mi amor.”

He lead you inside to your living room as he closed the door behind him, “porque lloras? Qué pasó?”

You looked at him with tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes contemplating whether you should tell him or not. You didn’t want Richard to worry about you or think less of you for crying over school work but you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“This past month I’ve so stressed Richie estoy trabajando demasiado para pagar mi escuela y la renta. I can barley keep up with anything because I’m so tired all the time. I’m so behind in my schoolwork and nothing that I do is good enough,” I started breaking down in sobs again as the burden of what was going on fell on me again.

“Mami why didn’t you tell me? You know I’ll always help you no matter what it is: money or your schoolwork or just for support?”

“I didn’t want to worry you with my problems and I thought I could handle it by myself. But I just got buried in everything and now I feel so helpless.”

“You’re not helpless y/n, you’re so independent and strong. You’re so smart and just because you can do it alone doesn’t mean you have to. Yo estoy aquí para ayudarte somos una pareja, when I was afraid to go to the interview you helped prepare me for the questions, you went with me, and you supported me. You gave me confidence that I was going to do well and because of you did do well. We do things together bebe yo siempre te quiero ayudar en todo lo que puedo. No matter what I’m doing, where I am, or what I have going on I am never ever too busy to be your back support mami. I’ll drop everything en in segundo para ti.”

I nodded my head taking his words in, I started feeling better knowing that no matter what he has going on, I knew I could lean on him and he’d still be there to hold me up. And vice versa.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you baby, I really thought that I could handle it and-“ he shook his head and pulled me in closer “it’s okay mamita. Yo entiendo. But you know that I’m super supportive about you getting your degree. Ahora what’re you working on and what do you need to finish?”

You told him all your projects that you had layed out on your desk and you guys came up with a plan so you could get your work done in time. Because of him you not only got an A on all of your papers but he helped you pay some of your bills so you could work less so that you wouldn’t overdo it again. Although you felt bad letting him pay for your bills, he insisted that he wanted to do it and regardless of what you said he’d find a way to pay them.

“And besides you can get me back later,” he winked at you as your face blushed.

-

This was my first imagine like this so I’m sorry if this is cringe but overall I hope you liked it and don’t judge me too much based on this.

[crossgartered]

P5R Liveblog (13/?)

Haru arc

[[MORE]]

Oh...? Are you hung up on Wakaba, too, Doctor?

Oh, Rumi. ...Who's Rumi?

IS IT KASUMI'S SISTER??? bc you know there's weird stuff going on there

Probably not but this is for wild guessing anyway

If we can believe Kasumi then her sister is younger than her

And that'd be pretty weird to talk about in a romantic context

The problem is if kasumi is to be believed

she's dead I know she's dead I don't think she knows she's dead but she's super dead

Or in a coma I guess but let's be real here

I don't trust Shibusawa in the slightest. He's definitely going to try to take that research. I wouldn't be surprised if he was one of those men in black suits, either. He's rich - he goes to the Wilton on a whim, with his "buddies" - he could definitely be one of Shido's men.

OMFNDJD THIS LES MIS KNOCK OFF FILLS ME WITH JOY

Hoo boy. Maruki... I don't think you'll be very pleased with our answer. I do think you have good intentions, now, but you will definitely be an antagonist here.

I'm still really impressed with Chihaya. She really thought that the protag would hate her once she told her story, that her fortune said he was supposed to hate her, and she "never thought [he] would overturn even that fate". And yet, she told him anyway.

A Yusuke & Ann showtime!! : D I wonder what it'll be like?

THATS SO INCREDIBLY ANIME I LOVE IT

Haru idolizing superheroines vs Ann idolizing lady villains fight

I cannot waittt to see what they do with cognitive Haru, if they decided to make her this time around

YUSUKE CAN DUPLICATE IN PALACES?!?!?

A Will Seed with lasers barring the way? Interesting.

FUTABA FINISHING TOUCH FUTABA FINISHING TOUCH!!!!

Huh, it's kinda goofier than I was expecting.

"When a person is continually faced with oppression, they come to welcome its presence." Yusuke : (

"Such psychological trickery is being used here. I... experienced it first-hand for many years." YUSUKE : C

It's kinda nice that those workers are being blocked by lasers instead of us being too intimidated by their number to just go after them. ...Am I remembering this correctly?

Oh, Noir... I'm glad I get the option to ask if she's okay.

The Yumizuki High uniform really does suit Yusuke.

I wonder if there's a way to talk to people about their outfits.

Does Futaba's thing happen in place of Joker's, now? That's kind of a shame

HEY DO YOU THINK IT'S POSSIBLE TO HAVE FUTABA SHOWTIMES?!?????

Airlock time.

Man I want to see robot/cyborg Haru so badly come on Okumura I know she's here

This stuff about being okay for 30 sec as long as you close your eyes and mouth sounds wrong but I don't know enough about the condition of the human body in space enough to dispute it so okay I fuess

Anyway this is run by clap your hands if you believe kinda magic so it doesn't really matter anyway (also, thank god for Futaba saying that it'd work)

It's interesting - space factories/stations aren't a typical heist target (nor are castles, tbh, but museums, banks, pyramids, casinos? Naturally) (space stations in general can be, in the right genre. But this is set up a bit unusually for that). Corporate offices of shady companies, however...

Spaceeeeee ahdskdjs this is SO COOL

what the fuck what the fuck was something else going through the airlock?!?!

Ugh, how aggravating. I had been able to get the Will Seed the entire time until I pulled the lever that allowed me to progress

What is this shadow???? I'm not sure I know it! "Pagan savior", huh?

No, guys, there's another airlock room. Stop saying 'the treasure is just beyond that door!' when there is a whole other area/floor to go through. Especially since you have a map

Futaba gets motion sickness...oh no I'm so sorry ;u;

I...actually remembered the first half of the solution to the transfer line. I got out of there in practically no time. Heck yeah!

"Thou hast to awakened to the ultimate secret of the Sun, granting thee infinite power..." Yoshida...! TAT

I always end up maxing him right around the end of Okumura's Palace. I feel so bad. His newfound popularity is gonna absolutely tank soon. ;-;

Man, who even gets elected after the populace starts caring again? I don't know how Japanese politics works, really, like at all, honestly, but probably he has a subordinate who can take his place. But like, his whole crew's gotta be corrupt, right? Especially someone who'd be his replacement. Though honestly, considering how paranoid he got by the end, he probably chose someone weak-willed in order to prevent

Oh wait hold on I just looked up how this works. Apparently, uh...

Huh. I'm not sure if the cabinet resigns if the prime minister does usually or if that's just if the house passes a vote of no confidence. But, the prime minister appoints the ministers, so if the prime minister changes then there could be an issue there, probably?

But anyway. Looks like the Diet would immediately try to vote for a different person once the prime minister seat is vacant.

Huh, I wonder who gets voted in, then. Well, we only know of 2 candidates other than Shido, and Yoshida doesn't have the funding or even (yet) the popularity to become prime minister, so Matsushida is really the only other choice unless they pick someone we haven't heard about.

Oh my GOD I hate the school. They're being such assholes to Kasumi. She got 3rd place!!! That's amazing!!! This isn't even a school specializing in gymnastics!!!!!! YOU SPECIALIZED IN VOLLEYBALL AND EVEN IF THAT WERENT THE CASE YOURE TERRIBLE

*ahem* Anyway.

You can tell that Maruki is quietly pissed and honestly? Valid. Super valid. Same, Maruki, same.

She's not gonna get that text, with how her phone is.

"we took in those sisters to improve Shujin's standing, but at this rate, we're only going to end up suffering for it." Oh??? Oh??????

"not only have we lost one of them, but the other ones not doing us any good. Talk about a waste of effort..." Hooooly shit you asshole

Wait, hold on, it's October already????!? November's just a month away!! I have less than 3 months for social linking! And I still haven't maxed knowledge or kindness! (Or guts, but whatever) I've only maxed 1 person! Although I'm close to maxing Ryuji & Ann & Yusuke. And some npcs

AHHHHH CUTSCENE CUTSCENE!!!!

So the keywords - lab, stadium, and ... Either Maruki or Kasumi for the person. OH MAN AND EITHER WAY IM ALREADY IN MY PHANTOM THIEF CLOTHES

ONE OF THEM DOESNT TRUST ME

It's probably Maruki, right? Bc of the lab... But also I thought the whole wish fulfillment thing was going to be his cogpsi project... With the help of Jose, maybe...

Speaking of Jose, Jose looks like a toy, especially with that hair and those ears. I wonder what material he's supposed to be? Based on the ears I'd say plastic, maybe, but the hair looks more ceramic to me.

Anyway, back to the relevant FUCKING PALACE WOOHOO

I haven't even sent a calling card for Okumura yet so we're not dealing with this anytime soon

Ooh, this music... <3

Oh man, I totally forgot I had Morgana in the maid costume. I gotta get him into something more serious

Why is dancewear not the p5dsn costume??

This is...really empty...

I am suddenly really scared at what the people are going to look like

There are pigeons here...

But wait, if this is Maruki's Palace, then this is bc of all his grief... He doesn't want anyone to hurt, ever again. The people will be their ideal selves, probably...

...I'd love to see a cognition of myself, tbh. That won't happen, but I'd love it.

This place is really beautiful... With the music it seems like a sad place...

Look at all these wires

That's probably the sister, right?

Unless that's the cognition of Yoshizawa when she was alive and her current self is her ideal self.

The shadow attacked the cognition???!?!

YUP this is definitely Maruki's Palace

Hmm. Interesting.

Oh, Cendrillon really is perfect for her, huh.

SHES DOING A MAGICAL GIRL TRANAFORMATION WHAY

WHAT

WHY????

IM NOT UPSET ITS JUST A LITTLE WHAT????

Does her outfit look like mine a little bit bc she's using me as a role model for her source of confidence - confidence that she is using/interpreting for her inner rebellious spirit?

Wait, lost my train of thought

Aww, I mistimed that. I was hoping to get a Kasumi finishing touch

MORGANA-SENPAI

It is definitely an unfair consequence

Oh, so that's why, narratively, her phone sucks. It's to prevent us from figuring out whose Palace it is.

Yeah, this time it's entirely on you, Morgana.

... it's because of gymnastics? And not because you disagree with us on an ideological level? ...okay. sure. Whatever.

Hoo boy. This is gonna suck when Okumura has his mental shutdown. I wonder how she'll react.

She is of the Faith arcana, whatever that means. Maybe she'll keep faith in me? I did max her half-confidant

It's cool, Kasumi. I really didn't do much. You may have a debt of gratitude or whatever but like you don't actually need to repay it. Just keep being my friend and maybe one day you'll quit keeping score

*sigh*

If only. Too bad you're probably dead.

SHOWTIME WITH HARU? SHOWTIME WITH HARU? PLEASE?

Oh, Mona-chan. I figured as much, but I was still hoping...

Anyway, Haru&Mona showtime still very good!

Man, I would kill to hear their explanations for what they're doing.

...this is incredibly violent, isn't it? I anticipate it with bated breath

Oh man, can you imagine a showtime with Kasumi? Maybe with Akechi, if Atlus isn't going to give me one

Which, fair enough, from a gameplay standpoint

Still. : (

"the Phantom Thief Basic Training"?

Oh, good, we're actually addressing cognitive people with Haru.

Oh, this is either gonna suck if they address the implications, or we're gonna see cognitive Haru. >: 3

Dream world, huh...

THE YUSUKE-HARU FRIENDSHIP IS SO UNDERSTATED AND UNDERRATED I WANT MORE CONTENT

THERE SHE IS!!! THERE SHW IS!!!!

Oh, man, I had a lot of feelings during that fight. That time limit though

I like how they updated this fight

Although I think I'm a little underleveled, potentially. I could not destroy her before she self-destructed, and it took me a while to beat the chief directors and executive director. Oneshotted Okumura himself, though.

OH MAN I SHOULD HAVE READ THIS BILLIARDS BOOK EARLIER

I DIDNT REALIZE I COULD INCREASE MY TECHNICALS????

I already thought that technicals were beefed up from how they were - I guess this is part of that!

Wish I had another book on kindness, ugh.

SO THATS HOW THEY CHANGED POSITION HACK

Ann & Haru have such similar colors. I wish they would have darkened Haru's a little bit more

Wait I never got to see the Haru-Mona showtime

I even had both in my party : (

GOD IWAI YOU'RE SO SHADY

I forgot to start his social link until now whoops

Although I've only had my guts high enough for past ~2ish weeks so there's that at least

Guh, I have to get to Mementos and start up Shinya's...

How many part-time jobs does this have? Like, 5? Maybe 6, if you count him helping out Sojiro? The convenience store, the beef bowl place, the flower shop, Crossroads, and now the gun shop. Anything I'm missing? I feel like I'm missing one.

Desire & Hope is really pretty. The Desire underneath is kinda weirdly desaturated compared to the hope, though. Not sure if it actually works as well as Desire did by itself. Idk. They're both good, but I liked how Desire looked a bit more. I understand that D&H has personal meaning, though. Who knows, maybe in person I would feel differently

I kinda really like that Yusuke tends to go more abstract with his stuff, even if he does try out a bunch of different styles

Maxing Yusuke. And thank god for Affinity Readings. Finally got Ryuji at a point where I can max him.

Oh. I had forgotten how Kamu Susano-o looks. ...

[likeaguardianangel-archive-blog]

send an ask: get to know your author: Answer them all please :D

omg xD honestly. why this? i can’t haha.

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

Not that I know of? I feel like I get the urges to write certain subjects and then I look around eagerly and hope that someone will like it enough to write it with me. I haven’t purposely held off on too much. Although I guess I do hold of on M/F couples with Barry sometimes, though it’s not really about the story and more about what I’ve said in #2.

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

Oh god. I get embarrassed so easily. I’m probably most embarrassed by any smut I’ve written. Because I always feel like such an impostor. I know so little about it in truth, haha. I’m always like ‘oh god, I am this virgin over here who really doesn’t know how that shit feels’ and then like dramatically flop on my bed or something. So I guess those types of things I get embarrassed by easiest, as I am the kind of person who can write words like dick or cock or whatever, but saying it aloud gets me all flustered. It’s truly embarrassing.

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Usually I just write from what I read first, the first paragraph and go from there. Sometimes though, if my rp partner said such a good line that my muse was like ‘omg I have to say /this/’ then I start from there and work my way through the post backwards. But that doesn’t happen super often. Usually it’s just the first to last strategy.

4) favorite character you’ve written

I think that’s a tough choice. Like, I’ve written so many characters, and I’ve loved them all for very different reasons. But since I’ve been missing this one particular character lately, I’m going to say him: Jacques Crevette. He was originally a character from a Disney RPG, a personified version of the shrimp from finding nemo. I know, you’re probably looking at me right now like: why such an obscure character?? The thing is, they had an awesome skeleton for this character, featuring the ability to heal via touch, and I thought that was so so fascinating. It’s really funny, because the skeleton originally said this character would be aloof etc., but my muse sort of became its own thing. A bouncy, energetic, people loving character that liked to sing when he was happy, but also sing when he was having a tough time. He was an interesting muse. I think the fact is he was so weird, and to me it feels I developed that character from the ground up and I am incredibly proud of him. I miss him something fierce.

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing

Well, I was surprised that I ended up writing Barry. For a while there I really didn’t think I would be doing that. But I also think...okay so there was this intense character in this fandom I was in (les mis), and i would have the desire to write him (Enjolras), but I was so so so incredibly intimidated by the idea of writing him. Like, I was sure that my take on him would be so terrible and it would end up being this horrible disaster. Honestly, a lot of muses I took up from the les mis fandom were like that. I lack confidence sometimes. It’s how I am.

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

I’m not sure. I try not to go back and look too often because I tend to be pretty self-conscious about what I’ve written. I have anxiety so it’s not very productive for me to take a look at what flaws I can find. I know what I want to do better with (description), and for me that is more than enough.

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

Wellll. I say I write, but I can never say what I write or really who I write with. My mom used to put down my rping a lot when I was growing up, so I’ve learned to just...keep what I write to myself, even when I’m really excited about what I’ve been writing. No one really knows that I rp and that’s kind of how I think it’ll stay tbh.

8) favorite genre to write

Oh man. I love a little bit of the romantic comedy sorts of elements, but also angst/drama. Fantasy is always fun (dragons guys. Dragons are the fucking best). Really anything that is missing a bit of realism is great. I mean come on guys, I write The Flash. I love the superpowers and the ridiculousness in some ways.

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Sometimes I go to Netflix and I do a rewatch of the Flash. Usually it’s like the sad episodes where Barry cries (admit it: he’s beautiful when he cries), but sometimes it’s episodes like the Duet one which is just fun. So fun. And then other times if it doesn’t need that much of a push, just my own motivation, I pull up my spotify playlist for Barry and I listen and let the words that I think fit him wash over me and help me get writing.

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

I can do either one. Honestly I write with my family in the living room at times, and others I write while I’m in my room alone. Really that doesn’t matter to me as long as no one invades my personal space with it.

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

I think I’ve improved some of my writing of dialogue? Honestly, Barry is such a talkative character, it’s really been a focus for me to work on intonation and emphasizing certain words based on how he’s feeling. So I think that I’ve gotten a bit better with that? I don’t know, that’s the best I can come up with.

12) your weaknesses as an author

Dear god I mean....I think I write too much in my character’s thoughts and not enough of actions or what’s going on at that same time. Honestly that’s what’s been bothering me the most. I’ve been trying to improve that but we’ll see how that goes.

13) your strengths as an author

Ummm....that I’m willing to go in so many different directions? Idk that I can write decent dialogue, and I think that the characters I do choose to actually put out there have such strong personalities. I might struggle in description, but I do make up for it with their thoughts and what I think would impact them the most. Is that a strength? I feel like it is.

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?

I make playlists for muses as a whole. So I have a Barry Allen playlist, a Steve Rogers playlist, etc. And then I have a couple of ship playlists and that kind of thing. I don’t ever base it on a thread, but I do on characters and their relationships.

15) why did you start writing?

Well my friend introduced me to an rp thing when I was like...11? at the time I was god awful, but I really enjoyed it and I would see some talented writers who were doing so much more at the time, more in depth, paragraphs and all and I wanted to be able to get to that point. I am, perhaps on occasion competitive for the weirdest reasons. The first few things of writing were like horse based or hp based, but I think when I got to HP stuff, I wanted to be able to write things that the books or movies just didn’t cover. I wanted to be able to put voice to things that could have happened but didn’t.

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

Haunt me? Oh god yes. I did a horrible, truly horrible take on Lucifer from SPN. I just...the directions I went make me really mad at myself. Like just...no. no no no no no. I’m scarred just thinking about this. Ugh god help me but I was so fixated on a thing back then. I refuse to be like that. Yikes. Just. Yeah. Lucifer. Even thinking it is embarrassing, so I just don’t want to go any further in detail there.

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

I would tell myself not to push myself before I was ready. Not to throw myself in the adult world before I really knew what I was doing. When I was thirteen I was already writing smut and stuff which is just...I shouldn’t have. You see the stuff about illegal and all now, but nobody was making a big deal out of it at the time. But I think I could have benefited just...not doing that until I for sure was ready.

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

Ummm. I’m not sure? I think maybe the Percy Jackson books a little bit in terms of the snarky little thought process of the character and the way that’s done. Ummm....I don’t really know how to describe my writing style so I’m not sure if certain works did influence me like that. There’s that novel the Things They Carried which has a unique way of describing things and thinking. Maybe something from there, Harry Potter without a doubt as that is a huge influence. Maybe some Tolkien? Eragon? I don’t know man.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

Well, if it’s really complex I end up opening a word doc, as I have a super organized rp partner who did it long before I did. And since they influenced me there, I now write up timelines if I feel like I need to remember/mark it down. I honestly haven’t done that with anything on here yet. I probably should. But you know. Whatever. The point is yes. Google docs if I need to organize things.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

It depends on the day and the mood. Sometimes I can just sit down and whack out multiple replies and keep at it. Other times I write one or two and then say ‘good job Lena, you done enough today’ and go read. It really depends.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

I cringe. Honestly that’s just the way I am. I can’t look back on stuff too often for that reason.

22) are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

Yeah. I can’t write anything about space/outer space or throw any of my muses in that sort of setting. I also can’t handle other people writing excessively detailed gore? It’s like, if I don’t have the control on what gore it is and how it’s done I just...I feel sick and I can’t do it and I overthink about it. Like one time another writer killed off my muse’s husband, and the way they did it (without consulting me on that particular way of dying) well it had my nauseous for weeks. I think most anything else I can write if we talk about it, but those two things are iffy for me.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

I feel like my brief tenure in an apartment has helped me a little in context of thinking of how some of my muses would live etc. Before that I only had the vaguest idea of how people handle apartment living. Haha. I know, it’s helpful to experience shit. I can’t think of much else.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

Yes. Actually for a thread me and @keeperoftheliars were doing, or are still doing I think technically. I like...look. The reason I originally wasn’t going to do Barry is cause I don’t science. I feel kind of bad for leaving the science out a lot of times but so does the show. They often forget to demonstrate Smart Barry who is in fact a CSI etc. Anyway, I’m digressing, but Barry had to talk about fingerprinting criminals, and to my immense displeasure, I did research what would happen if people damaged their fingerprints in often gruesome ways and what would be done about that. Unpleasant. For my writing of Steve Rogers, I read up a lot on the different illnesses that he had, on how he would have lived in the past, in order to understand what things he might still do today, out of habit, or out of respect for that time period. Yeah, I definitely research where I can on subjects I don’t fully grasp.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

(okay so this is a few paragraphs, but i really really enjoyed this starter)

As was becoming the frustrating norm, Barry just wasn’t fast enough. Zoom had an insane strength to him, only bolstered by Barry’s own speed. The loss of his father had caused something in him to shatter. The hatred towards the other speedster fueled Barry, but as he chased the other through his city, he knew that that hatred alone wouldn’t help him stop the guy. But it pushed him forward anyway.

Barry had shut off his coms half an hour into this ridiculous race with Zoom. He knew what his friends and family wanted. They wanted to work together to handle him. But Barry had lost enough in this fight to want them to have nothing to do with it. The man had been monstrous enough to kill Barry’s father right in front of him. He likely wouldn’t stop to think about his feelings with anyone else important to him.

He couldn’t watch another person he loved die. And, admittedly, he was still slightly bitter about the fact that his friends had locked him in the pipeline to keep him from going after Zoom. He kept running, twisting past cars and trees and chasing after Zoom, always chasing. He had never had a moment where he had come close to equaling the other’s speed.

At some point though, it seemed Zoom tired of simply having Barry chase him around, and before Barry knew it, the other darted out towards the speedster. catching him completely by surprise, the other speedster’s punch hitting him in the stomach and sending him flying backwards. The lucky thing: he didn’t crash into any cars or civilians. The unlucky: he collided with a very solid wall, not having had the time to ready himself to phase through it as he could have.

Everything ached. And Zoom was there a moment later, grabbing him by his throat and lifting him up, seemingly delighted by the power he held over Barry. Barry managed to get a few hits in, and found them running again, though this time it barely went another block before he was sprawled on the ground in the park. He groaned, forcing himself to his feet as he tried to prepare himself for the next blow.

[inktaire]

I was indirectly tagged by the beautiful @pettedavis and I love oversharing so why not

Your last 1. drink: Coffee. What else is new lol 2. phone call: Technically a customer while I was at work. But outside of that, one of my best friends named MJ 3. text message: Group chat with my brothers since I treated them to lunch today 4. song you listened to: Avalanche by Walk the Moon (although lowkey the only song I listened to yesterday was Fourth of July by Fall Out Boy bc America) 5. time you cried: A couple of days ago because I got the flu and was so frustrated about it (and also was super anxious about missing my shift at work bc of it) 

Have you ever 6. dated someone twice: No 7. kissed someone and regretted it: Yeahhhhhhh 8. been cheated on: Not to my knowledge 9. lost someone special: My dad 10. been depressed: On and off. I don’t qualify for depression though 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: Once last Halloween. To be fair, my uni goes hard on Halloweekend

3 favourite colours: Maroon/Burgundy, Black, Military/Olive green

In the last year have you 15. made new friends: Yeah! 16. fallen out of love: No 17. laughed until you cried: Yes and sadly usually it’s at either memes or my own jokes 18. found out someone was talking about you: No... at least I don’t think so 19. met someone who changed you: “Honestly like not to be corny but literally everyone I meet changes something in me some way” <- keeping pette’s answer bc same 20. found out who your friends are: I grow to understand who I want to keep around throughout my relationships with people, so it’s not a “last year” revelation. 21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: Yep

General 22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: I know who 99.9% of them are. I’m actually friends with closer to maybe 40% 23. do you have any pets: A dog and I love him more than people 24. do you want to change your name: I debate going by my middle name sometimes if that counts 25. what did you do for your last birthday: My extended family came over for dinner and then I went to church. Gotta love having a holiday for a birthday. 26. what time did you wake up: 9:15am ish. I’m so tired. I stayed up til 4am watching Try Guy videos 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: Reading fanfiction I think  28. name something you can’t wait for: My hypothetical future where I live in a hipster apartment in the city with my best friend Kate and I’m an independent woman who knows what she’s doing. But that’s more of a day dream than anything else  29. when was the last time you saw your mom: Last night 31. what are you listening to right now: Shame by Adam Lambert 32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: Probably 33. something that is getting on your nerves: Nothing in particular 34. most visited website: Tumblr and AO3 35. hair colour: Dark brown with slightly lighter dark brown ends. I tried to ombre it, evidently it didn’t really show up. 36. long or short hair: Long. I had a pixie cut once.. not going back there. 37. do you have a crush on someone: I think some people are cute but that’s about it 38. what do you like about yourself: Eyeliner skills. But less superficially, I like how I accepting I am. 39. piercings: Doubles on my earlobes 40. blood type: A+ 41.nickname: None that I use on a day to day basis 42. relationship status: Single 43. zodiac: Capricorn 44. pronouns: She/hers 45. favourite tv show: Sense8 47. right or left handed: Right 48. surgery: Do wisdom teeth count 49. sport: to watch? Boxing 50. vacation: I really want to go to Italy! But my favorite place that I have been to was El Nido, Palawan in the Philippines 51. pair of trainers: Does this mean shoes? Combat boots or black gladiator sandals during the summer

More General 53. eating: Nothing currently. I just came back from a Thai restaurant though 54. drinking: Also nothing 55. i’m about to: Take a nap or watch Netflix. Probably both. 56. waiting for: My paycheck 57. want: Financial stability :) 58. get married: Not anytime soon 59. career: Probably working with minorities. Specifically the LGBTQ+ community. I’m a psych major, so probably as a therapist or a humanitarian or something idk

Which is Better 60. hugs or kisses: Hugs. But lowkey both 61. lips or eyes: Eyes 62. shorter or taller: Taller (that’s not hard though bc I’m short) 63. older or younger: Older or the same age 64. nice arms or nice stomach: Arms  65. hook up or relationship: Relationship. But also friendships 66. troublemaker or hesitant: Hesitant I guess? I love spontaneity, but I find comfort in routine

Have You Ever 67. kissed a stranger: Yes 68. drank hard liquor: Many 69. lost glasses/contact lenses: All the damn time 70. turned someone down: Yes 71. sex on the first date: No 72. broken someone’s heart: I hope I haven’t 73. had your heart broken: Yes 74. been arrested: Nope 75. cried when someone died: Yes 76. fallen for a friend: Yeah

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 77. yourself: Ish 78. miracles: Debatable 79. love at first sight: Attraction at first sight, but not love 80. santa claus: Nope 81. kiss on the first date: If it went well 82. angels: Who knows

OTHER: 83. current best friend’s name: Kate. I would literally follow her into the pits of hell and back (also scratched out current bc??? I’ve known this binch for almost 13 years she’s here to stay) 84. eye colour: Brown 85. favourite movie: Kingsman, Les Mis (2012), The Theory of Everything

This is a hella long questionnaire but I’m tagging @maebmad @returnofthemadking @sunny-day-sky @raventaire because I’m nosy and oversharing is fun

[ragsandmuffins]

Musical Theatre Themed Ask

Okay, I’m gonna answer... all of these! (Because I have a paper to write and zero motivation. And also: musicals.)

Oh, and by the way, I’m going to assume that every “Broadway” is a “Broadway/West End” because Tumblr is a free platform.

1. What was the first musical you saw?

Mary Poppins, West End, 2006 (not 100% sure about the year)

2. What musical got you really  into theatre?

Les Misérables - saw the film, started stalking the actors, you know how it goes.

3. Who was your first Broadway crush?

Aaron Tveit (he’s the main one) and Samantha Barks - like I said, stalking the Les Mis actors...

4. Name three of your current Broadway crushes.

Um... still Aaron Tveit? Plus Rob Houchen (Les Mis London) and Cleve September (In the Heights London and soon Hamilton London) - Also, I get “talent crushes” not physical attraction crushes.

5. Name four of your dream roles.

Only 4? Natalie Goodman, Enjolras, Maureen Johnson, and HERCULES MULLIGAN!!

(I can’t sing, act, or dance, nor am I a man, so...)

6. Favourite off-broadway show:

Heathers and The Last Five Years

7. Favourite cast recording.

Gotta be Hamilton, it’s just such a well-produced album. Bonus points for including nearly the entire show.

8. 2013 Tony opening number or 2016 Tony opening number?

2012? The Book of Mormon thing is just pure gold!

9. Favourite show currently on Broadway.

Broadway: I guess Hamilton - There are way too few that I actually know.

West End: Les Misérables forever!

10. A musical that closed and you’re still bitter about. Rant a bit.

In the Heights London! Though I can’t really complain, they extended their initially run several times and now they’ve cast my amazing Sonny as Laurens/Philip, so... But it was just so good!!

11. Best stage to screen adaptation?

Les Misérables. Controversial, I know, but I usually kind of hate movie musicals. With this one they did something new and different and I think it works. The Last Five Years is pretty good too, though it lost a lot in the adaptation (couldn’t be avoided).

12. Worst  stage to screen adaptation?

Rent. I’m sorry, I love the show, I love the cast, but it all feels so staged and wrong and meh. Also, they cut Goodbye Love and left in fucking Santa Fé which adds exactly nothing to the plot!!

13. Favourite #ham4ham?

Gotta be the Schuyler Georges, but there have been so many great ones...

14. A musical you would love to see produced by Deaf West?

Oh, tricky... Maybe Next to Normal? That has a lot to do with people holding things in and failing to see each others’ struggles.

15. If you could revive any musical, which one would it be and who would you cast in it?

Not exactly a revival, but bring Next to Normal to the West End already! That show’s got a sodding Pulitzer. And London’s only a 2 hour flight away from where I live, not a transatlantic one, so I might actually be able to go see it.

Oh, and give Spring Awakening another chance, West End. Maybe adapt some American Sign Language into British Sign Language and...?

Also, maybe revive Rent, Broadway? (And cast Aaron Tveit as Roger... please?)

16. If you could go to a concert at the 54 below, who’s would it be?

That list would be waaaaaayyy too long...

17. Do you watch broadway.com vlogs? Which one is your favourite?

I’ve seen a few, but I don’t really watch them on a regular basis, so no favourites...

18. Make a Broadway related confession.

I really, really hate South Pacific. It was part of our American drama syllabus, as an example of a musical. Quite apart from the fact that I think it’s a godawful, sort of racist and sexist show (it’s from the 40s, go figure), it displays LITERALLY EVERY cliché about musicals!

19. What do musicals mean to you?

Hard to say... Apart from hours and hours of ALL the emotions, some awesome internet buddies (looking at you, @frei-und-schwerelos), I’ve got generally more interested in and knowledgable about theatre, which is a great asset when you study English. Musicals have also introduced me to a wide range of music I wouldn’t normally listen to and so many talented people I wouldn’t have known about otherwise...

20. Express some love for understudies and swings!

Okay here goes: I went to see the West End production of Memphis because of Killian Donnelly and then he unexpectedly wasn’t on that night - bummer. But then Jon Robyns just knocked it out of the part (and I only ever listened to Avenue Q and Spamalot because I watched clips of him when he was in those shows).

My first Thénardier was Adam Pearce and his version of “It was me wot told you so...” is the funniest one I’ve ever heard (he kind of went “No? Sorry, fair enough.”).

The second time I saw the show Adam Bayjou was Valjean and his Bring Him Home was one of the best I’ve ever heard (effortless high notes).

Also, Charlotte Kennedy was Cosette that time (she’s principal Cosette now) and her performance was so incredibly sweet! (She also brought some brunette power into the sea of blond that were Marius and Éponine.)

And Jordan Lee Davies was Bamatabois both times and he was great!

Oh, and my Christine from Phantom was the wonderful Lisa-Anne Wood.

21. Best Disney musical:

Mary Poppins - My first ever musical, fond memories, I still wear the Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious shirt my dad bought me (11 years ago... didn’t fit then, fits now).

22. Which Disney movie should be made into a musical?

Uh, I don’t know. Tangled’s funny...

23. Which musical fandom has the funniest memes?

Hamilton and Les Mis. I mean, the Les Mis/Mean Girls crossovers alone...

24. Name a character from a musical you would sort into your Hogwarts house.

Well, the test sorted me into Hufflepuff (great house), but I know that I am a Ravenclaw (and, as we know, the hat listens to you). Okay, Ravenclaw... maybe Melchior from Spring Awakening?

25. Name a Broadway star you would sort into your Hogwarts house.

Ugh, that’s even harder! Sorry, no clue.

26. Best on stage chemistry?

Hmm from what I’ve seen live, Rob Houchen and Carrie Hope Fletcher were pretty darn amazing together.

From what I haven’t seen live, Jennifer Damiano and Adam Chanler-Berat, and Justin Johnston and Michael McElroy seemed fantastic.

27. A Broadway duo you love.

I’m gonna say Jonathan Groff and Lin-Manuel Miranda, but I’m not sure I understand the question...

28. What book, tv show, movie, biography, video game, etc. should be turned into a musical?

Umm... I don’t know. Supernatural sort of is a musical... A Lord of the Rings musical in the style of A Very Potter Musical might be fun. The Fellowship of the Sing? I’ll show myself out.

29. If you could make a jukebox musical, what artist or genre would you pick?

I doubt many people know her but: Vienna Teng. For three reasons (aside from me liking her songs): 1. Her songs tell stories. 2. She often writes from the perspective of “characters.” 3. Her songs are actual poetry!

30. Favourite role played by _________________?

I don’t get it. What am I supposed to put here?

31. What musical has made you cry the most?

I don’t actually cry often at musicals (internally I do), but It’s Quiet Uptown from Hamilton got me bad the first time. And I once listened to Next to Normal when I was already feeling like shit - bad idea! (Don’t listen to There’s a World when you kind of want there to not be a world, kids...)

32. What musical has made you laugh the most?

Probably Avenue Q and Something Rotten

33. Current showtune stuck in you head:

Well, you just put Hard to Be the Bard in my head!

34. A musical that has left you thinking about life for a long time or deeply inspired you.

Les Misérables... I haven’t spent a single week without thinking about that show (or, indeed, the book) since early 2013.

Next to Normal also gave me a lot to think about.

I keep discovering new little bits of genius in Hamilton lyrics. Also, I’m writing a paper on the early US for the second time in under a year and characters from Hamilton (otherwise know as historical figures) keep popping up. Seriously, I’m writing about the Whiskey Rebellion and every time I read Hamilton’s name my brain goes PAY YOUR FUCKING TAXES!

I’ve also thought quite a bit about Heathers and The Last Five Years, because both of them have had productions where they genderbended (genderbent?) a main character, which made me think about how it changes the story and why.

35. If you could perform any ensemble number , which one would you pick?

“If you could...” Are you implying that I don’t?! Come on, any theatre geek who claims never to have done a solo rendition of One Day More is definitely lying! Oh, and I rapped myself all the way through One Shot the other day and made only one mistake - one that Lin’s made before, so I’m proud!

36. Name a musical you didn’t like at first but ended up loving.

I don’t think that’s really happened... There have been shows where I thought “What in the holy hell is this?!” and ended up loving it. I mean, what in the holy hell is Avenue Q?!

37. What are some costumes you’d love to try on?

Give me that red vest! Also, let me play Enjolras! Yes, I know I’m a woman and can only hit that low “foooorm” when I’ve got a really bad cold, but fuck all that!

I’d also really like to try on Elphaba’s Act II dress, because it’s epic!

38. Favourite dance break.

Hmmm... I don’t really have one? The one in Cool and the ballet in Somewhere where they sort of replay what’s happened are pretty amazing (both West Side Story).

39. Favourite Starkid musical:

A Very Potter Musical is the only one I know... Sorry...

40. What’s a musical more people should know about?

Well, where I live, most people have heard of Cats, Phantom, and Mamma Mia and that’s about it.

But in general, I’ve never met anyone who’s even heard of Assassins (although many people who have met me have now heard everything about Assassins - I’m that kind of person).

41. What are some lines from musicals you really like?

Okay, this is gonna take a while...

"Can you remind me of what it was like at the top of the world?” (In the Heights)

“Oh, my friends, my friends, don’t ask me what your sacrifice was for.” (Les Misérables - internal Niagara Falls!)

“Here, put some hail into the chief.” (Assassins)

“But the sky’s gonna hurt when it falls. So you’d better start building some walls.” (Heathers)

“I’m not mad that you got mad when I got mad when you said I should go drop dead!” (Tick, Tick... Boom!)

“My God, in God we trust, but we never really know what God discussed.” (Hamilton)

“What doesn’t kill me doesn’t kill me.” (Next to Normal)

And just for fun: “Honest living, honest living, honest living, honest living,...” (Rent)

42. Name a Tony performance you rewatch and rewatch.

In the Heights, Next to Normal, Hamilton, and Spring Awakening (both versions).

[coffeeselfies]

This is technically the “I think I need coffee,” selfie, but it’s been so long since I’ve posted that I figured anything was better than nothing.

I’m still trying to sleep through the inspiration of a very wonderful Bob Goff.

I. love. him.

But on to darker things, like my not-so-distant past!

Hahaha. So I was looking for an old assignment I e-mailed myself, and instead found a bunch of cryptic-heavy things I had texted one of my rarely used e-mails from my phone.

So of course I’m going to put them together, here, since I will probably just lose them otherwise. And because everyone on the internet loves reading the things I e-mail to, well, myself (WAIT, DO I NOT HAVE FRIENDS, WHAT IS MY LIFE). :p

4/12/12 - A veces no quiero hablar Por Nada con mis amigos. Solamente, "Hoy me dice ,estas loca, pero le esta loco a Juan!" Y mas Nada. Yo quiero hablar about cosas lejas. Ayer y Hoy hable con jean y veronika, solamente small talk primer. Pero despues, yo decido hablar about the things which I was.actually thinking about lately, the deeper layers. My thoughts were kind of awkward. Random. But I'm so glad I did, it lead to such good convos! As if, although my own thoughts or specific revelation (another one about love, of course), but led to true, sincere convos from the heart. Yes! Thank you, Lord. It's funny how I won't open up and ill get frustrated at the lack of depth in a conversation, yet really all I need to do in some cases is just jump right into the true issues. Ahh small talk kills me.

3/4/12 - He asked us a few questions: Who are you using?

How are you using them?

Physically. Sexually. Emotionally. Spiritually. Monetarily.

How can you restore that? Who's using you? Do you love money, and use people?

Or do you love people, and use money?

5/9/12 I think my id and superego are in conflict... I prefer that psychological term to saying that right vs wrong or my flesh is in rebellion, I guess. I just want to do all sorts of things that aren't of God, and i don't even know what to do. I think I need to just remember that life is short, and not about what I want. I'm getting too caught up in the worldly details, my visions going, my path, every time I think I'm expanding it, is getting more and more limited. Goodnight, from post Dave n busters with cartel, post umsl, going to school tmrw. 

5/17/12 - "Can you keep a secret?" I should have realized by now that this question should be answered with fear and heaviness rather than curiosity.

5/29/12 - I dreamt that, after they thought I had left, my parents started fighting. Loudly, viciously, hatefully. I came down shouting, 'stop it, stop it!!' But their heads were already covered in blood, as I'd they were going to kill eachother. I never found out if they stopped or not, because dad called to me in real life from the other room. At first I wondered if I had really been shouting, and that's why he had contacted me, but no, it was just about bulk trash being today. Something sounds like its gnawing on something, I can hear and feel the vibrations of it through my pillow. Creepy. 

6/4/12 - I have always been a compassionate person – making little houses for wounded snakes and worms – befriending the kid who’s got no one but himself for company, partnering with the girl who doesn’t really speak English. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve recognized that God has been faithful in granting me patience, mercy, and grace as well, and I know that these are not my own,  but I am meant to share them with the very people God has give me a heart for – the downtrodden, broken, and outcast, and ultimately just humanity in general.  This has, more or less, been my (more recent) life pursuit. To follow God’s Will for my life, regardless of where it takes me. So far that has meant giving hope to weary and often lost travelers of Amsterdam, mentoring at risk juveniles and raising awareness for human trafficking in Los Angeles, running English and Summer-School programs for Chinese immigrants in New York City, training and creating jobs for families in Haiti, as well as hosting events and creating opportunities for girls to leave brothels , learning how to run a business in Mexico while also helping out at various orphanages for disabled Children, and even just being there for my own family and friends when they’ve needed it most. It has meant months of Ministry Training schools, years of living in International Community Houses, working in roles that range from administration, to construction, to managerial, and an ever growing reliance on and relationship with Jesus Christ.I’ve been back in Saint Louis for a year now,

7/1/12 - Today started strangely, my head still a little blurry from the wine from the night before. I went to church, very late, where daren had a cupcake waiting for me. Why? Because Tuesday I had admitted I had experienced some downer bdays and he realized that it was my half birthday. Mom came, cried, we hugged, went to the church picnic.. I went home, told dad about her accident, and he just started weeping, so hard that his nose began to.bleed. I stroked his hair and.got a bit teary eyed.and then we got.on our knees and prayed... Later was feeling down and missing Luke, but jean got me out.

11/11/12 - And with your hands in the air, your feet barely touching ground, I take that smile to mean that life is finally turning 'round. And we laugh til we cry and we dance til we cant, and I feel free as can be each time I see that gleam in your eye. Then the secrets come out and its less about being blessed and more about a high. So when you're dancing I'm wondering if that's you, and when you're singing, I know you would be singing.the blues... But that gleam in your eye, well really its more of a glaze all along, I just saw what I wanted as you,strung me along. 

12/20/12 -

Well the queens off her throne Hiding in a stairwell Feet strewn about the stairs Seeming barely aware That her kingdom awaits The king, divorced long ago He's crying Where's his iron fist? Seems he's traded it for sentiment "Pathetic!" He might self accuse If only his tears would let him Seems everything's a dream these days, Some hellish, some sweet But all 

--

I used to find the idea of receiving a text in the middle of the night strange.

Now, after years of practice, I find it comforting, perhaps a reminder that I am not so alone as I would feel.

I hadn't realized this, of course, until now.

Now, when I wake up to nothing but darkness and my own thoughts.

Now, when, regardless of whether I toss myself awake at 2am or 4am, there is no message.

There's nothing to reassure me that there's another person in this world who is awake and eager to share a moment, even a small, electronic message with me.

1/11/13 - Today Gave my testimony. Adopt a block, played ninja. Eva likes hanging out with Christians. I break rules and have real convos with the disciples. Play bs. Go to angelus temple. Do food distribution. Met hosea who talked to us because he thought I was pretty, was super catholic, thought tim was my bf, etc etc etc

1/29/13 - Oh hi, I'm feeling cold and pathetic, and thought I would ... Email myself. That seems fitting. Somehow emailing yourself feels much more pathetic than just journaling. Right now I feel like I wish anyone, absolutely anyone , would sit down across from me. Even the old creepy man who, after asking a few non essential questions, left me for the warmth of the indoors, or... I don't know, a donut. Why do I feel like this.Lord? Is it because I am not so busy in school? Is it because Adam moved and despite the fact that I was barely hanging out with him last semester anyway, he was a crutch, and knowing that at 1am when I feel pathetic and lonely and confused, I can't even text someone I know would care? I mean. I know others would care. But we aren't exactly on that level just yet. What is my life? Why am I this way, and why do I want attention for it? Or why do I feel the need to find someone who would , what, save me ? From myself.? From my thoughts? Why am I seeking comfort in shallow things, the wings of friends and acquaintences and , frick, anything. Whywhywhywhy. I don't know. Is this what life is like for people? Lord, you are the one God, the only thing worth it, you are good when no one else is, am I getting caught up in things that I shouldn't, what am I even going on about? Life life life. It's all good, right

2/13/13 - (From a voice to text translator)

tomorrow I'm supposed to have an awkward cuddling session with my love scene manager and a love my phone from church I'm not sure how I get myself into these awkward situations but I definitely am good at it office tomorrow my uncle is moving in for a month but should be really awkward and I wish that I had a lock on my door and the house I'm learning that the things that I desire to have a find myself feeling empty when I do get them but I'm happy about it because it gets me clarity because it shows me that nothing else really matters is just kind of in my head really got the only thing that matters is the only thing I should pursue S I miss Adam I know you won't hang out that much before you left but now I guess I'm missing him double I don't know I don't know what I mean exactly but he's been gone a few weeks now and it's weird not having a best friend to talk to you about everything I have a lot of friends I have a lot of good friends but this is different it is different when you have someone who knows so much about you already and you don't have to tell the back story every time you tell them a new story because I already know who so I'm so is or why you feel that way or white was a bad idea that you did that so I'm also giving up ice cream and I'll call for lunch and I'm going to be time to eat a lot better subject tomorrow hopefully that I've also really just been wanting to be free of employment just live and everyday wake up and say what I want to do without help homeless people if I want to make something I want to sell another day love you babe I wanna go out with a friend I make my card I definitely don't want to spend 5 shifts a week at cartel but at the same time I don't feel like I'm self disciplined enough to not have a job I'm just getting tired of the creepers and the internet the kids off work as well as yeah I don't know ent from my HTC on the Now Network from Sprint!

8/18/13 -

Woke up really missing my dad. Go figure. Able to properly seduce emotions into a flat, shruggable denial ever since those first few days, and now, on the day I hoped to "stay strong" the most, I can't stop thinking of part of the song he wrote for Rachel, only now in regards to him - "I miss you, in the summertime.. I miss you, in the wintertime.. I miss you - all the time. I love my Rachel Sue." Only.. Daddy-o, or something. Ahhh.. Thank you, Lord, for such a kind father. Please help today glorify your name, run smoothly.. its so obvious we can't do it without you.

8/19/13 - I miss my dad. I am sad that I'll never have him burst in my room in November at three am with pancakes and lit birthday candles because he started thinking about some of the birthdays of mine he had missed, and wanted us to be able to celebrate  together. I can't drink milk or even look at rootbeer without hearing him ask for some, so eagerly, and then sigh 'mmmm, now that's good,' so contentedly after his first sip. I miss that his crazy stories are not going to be things that I share in everyday conversation with my friends, because they're all old stories and it will seem out of place. who do i have to talk to about my dad? no one. it makes everyone sad. theres no one to just share his life with, aside from close family, and that will be limited. Everyone keeps telling me I'm so strong. What does that mean?I'm strong because I didn't start sobbing when I spoke? Because I'm smiling and laughing with you? Is that strength or disposition? Blake said that I was handling this better than anyone he's ever seen deal with death. What does that mean? 

12/13/13

I see a sadness in your eyes.Behind the words, another message.The weight of your world becomes tangible, heavy, a thickness that weights me like a fog rolling in with, strapping invisible bricks to my body. Sometimes it's your words, blatant and straightforward, other times it's the sighs, the eyes that flash with emotion for just a moment, Did you know that's been seen? So many words, how can they be contained? I hear things you've never said, I see 

1/03/14-

I've tried reflecting on 2013.. tried finding words which could somehow, miraculously encapsulate all of the growth, struggle, joy, depression, transformation, and experiences that it contained. It will be one of the most memorable years of my life, for many reasons, but it may also be one of those years that the full impact of may be lost on me for awhile now.In the past few weeks, I've been looking through journals, photos, and letters, remembering and realizing exactly how many changes this year has brought. Led my first missions trip, felt the loss of saying goodbye to one of my best friends, discovered what living with not just my dad, but my uncle Ken, five chickens, two cats, two ducks, a dog, and whoever else decided to stay over was like, became the missions director at middletree church, became an AUNT to the most beautiful little Emelia Skye, gained a new set of amazing and wonderful friends, played nurse/daughter/friend/staff member/sister/maid/hopsicecare/barista/student/leader to the point of confused identity and exhaustion, left cartel to become part of the Caife Caife family, DIDN'T leave the country for the first time in yeaaaaars, actually had to turn down exciting travel/jobs, speaking opportunities, and a leadership position with a non-profit (rather than seek them out, like usual), spent 7 months of the year experiencing the beauty, hardship, and love of caring someone who is dying in more and more ways every day, the trauma and release of my dad's actual death, the months following that are nothing but fog, sorrow, and blurred memories, the 14-state family road trip of a lifetime, moving to the Loop with Dani, experiencing being 'home for the holidays' without any actual family to be home with, and .. I don't know.. the Sara of today, who can look back on things only a year ago and find I have a whole new perspective on them. ..I only wrote one public (well, as public as it can be when I have a total of 8, predominately inactive followers) blog post in 2013, mostly talking about overcoming fear to become the person I feel I'm called to be. It was mostly inspired by revelations from the LA Dream Center trip, and I can't tell you how nice it is to be able to look back on the goals and dreams I wanted so desperately to become a reality, and to be able to say that, even through all the changes and sorrow of this year, that they were able to come to fruition. I'm not in to new years resolutions, but I do highly recommend kickstarting your year with an inspiring, transformative experience, which can set the trajectory for how you are going to live, what goals you will meet or fall short of (but still come closer to, which is still GROWTH, something to celebrate!) in the coming adventure of 2014. No matter what 2013 held, don't let fear of who you were just last month keep you from being who you want to be tomorrow. This little blog post is nice for me to re-read, because it reminds me of my fears, and what overcoming them, even one step at a time, can lead to. 2013 was a hard year for me, but it has also brought me to exactly where I feel I'm supposed to be right now. 

1/29/14 - "I'm good" I wore the reassuring words like a blanket. Cover, no, smother whatever was beneath, within.   Protect yourself from the cold, vulnerable words might slip thru the holes in the blanket... exposed means they can feel temperature of your meaning. Heavy, heat from the heart. you can feel their response.  Pray for a warm touch, but there's always risk of icicle daggers

2/19/14

it's just that

I have a lot of thoughts

ideas, fears, ..a lot of places that I'd like to explore

But they feel so heavy when it's just me and them

feels like there’s a lot of trees to climb before i get to the clouds

and I'd like to share them with someone

who cares about them just as much as I do,

someone with just as much to risk,

who understands each side of the story.

And sometimes, I see planets in those eyes,

but have no rocketship to get me there

And I see that depth, but there's just no way to tap in

Im searching for someone to explore with

those infinite galaxies in your mind and mine.

Someone to make sense of it,

write poetry about it

but not get so caught up that it's just us - no

Always God first.

Always seeking his planets, his stars, his truth..

and maybe that's the adventure..

[dragon-trainer-phryne]

tag meme

tagged by @librarian-amy and @magitekbeth

Name/Nickname: Lizzy Height: 5′3″ Without Heels Pronouns: She/her Hogwarts House: Slytherin Myer Briggs type: I keep taking the test and keep forgetting the results....so lets just pretend I put exactly what you expected here and call it a day? Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius  True Zodiac Sign: One that is easier to spell? How many/what languages do you speak: English and ASL Favorite color(s): Honestly....I don’t have an actual favorite color...or a least favorite color....or a favorite color group....or a least favorite color group. I like/dislike them all equally. Pet Peeve(s): Fashion, History, IDIOTIC TEXTBOOKS, POINTLESS DEATHS IN NARRATIVE, STUDENTS NOT EVEN READING THE QUESTION OR THE ANSWER AND JUST PICKING A MULTIPLE CHOICE OPTION. (SERIOUSLY....DON’T DO THAT....ESPECIALLY IF YOU HAVE A TEACHER LIKE ME WHO PUTS THREE RIDICULOUS OPTIONS AND THE SENSIBLE ANSWER EVERYNOWANDTHEN) First Fandom: Vaudeville Entertainers -> Golden Hollywood. Specifically Burns/Allen, Jack Benny, Bob Hope.....ect.  Favorite Show: See favorite color question....I don’t do favorites very well... although this at least has contenders for “I really like these shows and love when they get put on”: MFMM, Star Trek TOS, HTTYD, Galavant....and .... idk? Chopped?  Favorite Movie: Can do favorites for different moods....hows that? Bad Brain Day: HTTYD Need to desperately just belt my heart out: Les Mis TAC Need some level of comfort/Security but still have moderate brain functions availiable: Jurrasic World or Indiana Jones 3 Hate myself and want to torture my poor heart?: Captain America TFA Want to just shut off and try to not do anything dumb cause my brain is overwhelmed?: Hobbit/LOTR All other moods: Idk, I don’t really have other moods at this point?

Favorite Book: Gracie: A Love Story written by George Burns. (Close second, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn....behind that.....well...just be proud I actually had a favorite on this one...ok?) 

One random fact: I sing opera better than I belt showtunes.

Tagging: people.....tag yourself. 

[exkernal]

Fanfic: The Life and Death of Hector Rivera, Chapter Two

Hector watched Coco grow. Coco began to crawl around on the floor, and Hector would pretend to chase her, as Coco’s delighted giggles echoed around him. She clutched tightly at his fingers as she took her first uncertain steps. He beamed with pride when she said her first word, “Papa,” and couldn’t resist teasing Imelda. She bounced up and down,, clapping her hands (her version of dancing) whenever Imelda sang or he played the guitar.

They were still poor. Life was hard. But Hector couldn’t find it in himself to complain, not when he came home every night to Imelda and Coco, when he could hold both tightly to his chest know that, finally, he had a family.

Imelda met him outside as he came home from work on his eighteenth birthday.

“What is it?” Hector asked, after twirling Coco around. Imelda was acting odd, like she was hiding something.

“A surprise,” she said vaguely. “You’ll love it—well, I hope you will. You need this. You’re old one is practically falling apart.”

“What is it?” he repeated, assuming she meant a new pair of shoes or jacket.

“Come and see."

There, perched against the stove, was a brand new guitar. This one was all white, but decorated much like his old one, with the same skull design at the handle. It even had a gold tooth to match his own (he had not been quick enough ducking out of the way of the Lopez brothers’ fists).

“Imelda,” he breathed out in awe, “it’s wonderful.” He turned to her. “How did you afford this?”

“I saved up,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. After all, I can’t have my husband going around the plaza looking like a bum.

“Thank you,” he said, embracing her, Coco caught in the middle of them. This was the best gift he’d ever been given. He knew that he would cherish it for the rest of his life.

As Coco grew, so did Ernesto and Hector’s reputation. They began accepting paid gigs at weddings and quinceañeras, not just within Santa Cecilia but in neighboring towns as well. The winning combo of Ernesto’s charismatic showmanship and Hector’s songwriting turned them into local celebrities. For the first time in their lives, they were earning decent money from their music. As a result, he didn’t need to work as many hours, allowing him to focus more of his time on writing music. He’d taken to writing everything down in a small, leather-bound journal. As his twentieth birthday approached, he’d already written dozens of songs for them to perform.

They performed all but one.

Nights in bed were the ideal time for Hector and Imelda to talk. Their daily lives were so busy between work, music, and a growing child, that it was difficult to find time during the day for a real heart to heart. Especially when so many of their daytime conversations involved bickering or playing music for Coco (Hector’s favorite way to relax after a day of work). After dark, while Coco was fast asleep in her room, the husband and wife could finally talk together as they lie in bed, just the two of them, unencumbered by the rest of the world. And although he would never say this out loud (he wasn’t suicidal), Hector valued those rare occasions that Imelda let her hair down, both literally and metaphorically, allowing her seldom seen gentler, softer side to shine through.

“I was thinking,” Imelda said, nuzzled against his chest, “that we might be able to start our own business.”

“Oh?” Hector asked in a teasing tone. “And what would we sell, querida? I don’t think there’s much demand in Santa Cecilia for guitar makers or singing instructors.”

“I know that,” she answered, a little brusquer, though it quickly vanished. “I was thinking something like…shoes.”

“Shoes?” Hector laughed, surprised.

“They’re practical,” she said, “everyone needs shoes, even scruffy musicians like you.”

“Fair enough, but there’s still one little problem: we don’t know how to make shoes.”

“We can learn,” she said. Hector squeezed her closer against his chest. “Senor Castillo hasn’t done much with work in his shop since his wife died, and his daughters have all moved away with their husbands. I might be able to persuade him to teach me.”

Hector knew firsthand how effective Imelda’s powers of persuasion could be.

“Perhaps, querida, but I have my music to think of. We’re starting to make some real money from it. Enough to provide us with a good life.”

“For now,” she said, “but we won’t be young forever. We need something dependable, to put down roots that we can pass down to Coco. She’s young now, but she’s growing fast.”

There was truth to this, he supposed, but for the life of him he couldn’t see himself as a shoemaker. He almost wanted to laugh at the very idea. Besides, no matter what she said, he knew his music career was booming. He couldn’t throw that away now.

“I’ll consider it,” he said.

“Hector, I’ve been thinking,” Ernesto said one evening, as they made their way home from a wedding in a nearby village. Hector was in good spirits, despite the cramps in his fingers and the weariness that nagged at his body. He was beat. He wanted nothing more to crawl into bed and cuddle up against his wife. Yet their performance had been a smashing success, which was really all that mattered. “Remember when we were boys and you told me that you wanted to be a musician?”

“How could I forget?” Hector said with a wistful smile. “And I’d say it came true, seeing where we are.”

To his surprise, Ernesto did not share his smile. His friend wore a serious expression, which was such a rarity for him that it forced Hector to pay attention.

“I wonder…are we really? Oh, sure, we perform for crowds, you write songs. We certainly are musicians of a sort. It’s just…Hector, I think we’ve hit a wall.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We’ve reached as far as we can go in Santa Cecilia. Playing for fiestas, never going farther than a day’s journey. I can’t help but feel that we’re squandering our potential.”

“What are you suggesting?” Hector asked. His heart hammered in his chest. Part of him wanted to challenge Ernesto, to tell him that things were just fine, that he had never felt more complete in his life. But another part of him felt the truth in his friend’s words. In some ways, Hector was still the foolish little dreamer with his head in the clouds, the boy his abuelita always scolded. He knew there was more to be had.

“We have a gift. You have a gift, amigo. I could only dream of being as good a songwriter as you! We make an incredible duo. If we take a chance, if we seize our moment, we could become the most famous musicians in Mexico. Maybe even the world.”

“Oh, come now,” Hector laughed, “I won’t pretend that I’ve never dreamed about it, but the world? I think you’re getting carried away, Ernesto.”

“I’m telling you, you have a gift. And it’s being wasted while we’re stuck here.”

Hector ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Ernesto. I have a family to consider.”

“Ay, you do. Think of how much you’ll provide for them if we become famous. Imelda will never have to work again. Coco can go to the best schools and have the best clothing. Her future will be secure.”

It was tempting. Hector pictured himself playing for a packed auditorium, travelling the world with Imelda and Coco at his side. He saw a version of his daughter who would not have to leave school like he did, not have to work like a dog just to get by. He saw Coco happy and educated and secure.

“Think about it,” Ernesto said, throwing his arm around Hector’s shoulders, jostling the guitar strapped to his back. “An announcer bellows before a spellbound crowd, ‘Presenting—de la Cruz y Rivera!’”

Hector shook his head. “You mean Rivera y de la Cruz.”

“No, no, it’s in alphabetical order, you see.”

They laughed, eyes dancing with the possibilities.

Imelda, as even a child like Coco could have predicted, did not take it well.

“Let me get this straight,” she said. She wasn’t yelling—yet—but her body shook with barely suppressed anger, like a hurricane battering against a flood wall, moments before breaking through. “You’re telling me that you want to abandon your wife and child to becoming a travelling musician, and I’m supposed to, what, give you my blessing.”

“I’m not abandoning you,” Hector said, wounded. “And—keep your voice down,” he hissed, risking her wrath even further, but Coco was playing in the front yard, still within potential hearing distance. “This is only temporary, mi amor. A few months at the most. I could make enough money to keep us comfortable and happy forever. Don’t you want that for Coco?”

She was not swayed. “Of course, that’s why I suggested opening a business. To put down roots. Not for you to chase down your own glory and adventure with bigheaded Ernesto and then use your daughter as a convenient excuse. What happens if it doesn’t work out, eh, Hector? Where will we be then?”

“I have to try, Imelda,” he pleaded. “You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand!” she said, her lips twisted into a disgusted grimace. “I know what musicos are like; out all night, chasing girls—”

“Ay, querida, I can see it now: the girls won’t be able to resist this hombre muy guapo,” he teased, raising his eyebrows.

His joke didn’t land well, not that he really expected it to.

“Oh, yes,” she snarled, “you can make your stupid jokes, but I know what’s going to happen those long nights that you’re away.”

“Imelda,” he said softly, “you know that I’m not like that. You’re the only woman for me.”

“That changes nothing,” she said, as firmly as before, but he thought he saw her shoulders relax a little. “You’re still abandoning us.”

“Never,” Hector vowed. “You and Coco are my world. It’s just…I have to try, Imelda. Maybe I’ll fail miserably, but I won’t be able to live with myself if I’m always wondering ‘what if.’ At least this way I can say I tried.”

Her stern exterior started to slip.

“And,” he added, “if it doesn’t work out we’ll open your shoe store.”

“Senor Castillo seems agreeable,” Imelda said, “I think he’ll give me lessons. And you will write to us at least twice a week and telephone once a month.”

“We don’t have a telephone,” Hector said.

“The Guzmans do. We’ll arrange a time and day once a month. They owe me a favor.”

“Deal,” Hector said, feeling like a weight had been lifted.

“I still don’t like this,” Imelda said.

“I know, mi amor,” he said, taking her into his arms. “That’s why I’m eternally grateful to have the best wife in the world.”

If telling Imelda was difficult, than telling Coco was heartbreaking.

“But why?” the four-year-old asked turning her huge, luminous eyes on him. She was Imelda in miniature, but with a rounder face, and a few hints of Hector sprinkled in.

“Papa needs to travel to play his music,” Hector said, trying to explain it as best as he could. “Papa’s an okay musician, right?”

“The best,” Coco nodded fervently. Hector scooped her up into a tight hug, spinning her. She laughed directly into his ear. He wished he could hold this moment forever, the sheer joy of having a four-year-old daughter. He felt confident in his decision before; now, faced with the reality of leaving Coco, a part of him wanted to tell Ernesto that he changed his mind.

“I’ll write you letters every day,” Hector promised. “Mama can read them to you.”

“I’ll miss you,” she said against his chest.

“I know, mija, I’ll miss you too,” he said. He was suddenly struck by an idea. “Remember our song?”

“Remember me,” she answered.

“That’s right,” he said, dropping her down, lightly, onto the bed. “We’ll sing it every night at the same time, right before bed, no matter where we are. Got that, mija? Then we’ll still be connected, no matter how far apart me are.”

“I understand, Papa,” she said.

“Good.” He unclipped his guitar case. Coco beamed; she loved listening to him play. “We’ll sing it together tonight, but after that, you’ll remember to sing it on your own, right?”

She nodded solemnly. Coco was funny like that—in many ways such a bright and playful child, but she also had a mysterious air to her, like an old soul trapped in a child’s body.

“That’s my girl,” Hector said, and he began to strum the opening notes. As he leaned in closer to her, she placed her chubby little hands on his face. They were warm and welcoming, and he wanted this moment to last forever, the two of them together, connected by music.

He left the next morning, just after sunrise.

“Remember the song, Coco,” he whispered in her ear. She nodded against his chest.

“Goodbye, Papa,” she said.

Hector lifted the girl high in the air and gave her one last twirl, savoring her delighted laughter. Then he turned towards her mother.

“It won’t be long,” Hector said, pulling Imelda into a tight hug. “And who knows, you might like it better without me to pester and annoy you all the time. Enjoy the peace and quiet, eh?”

Imelda fought to keep her face stern and failed miserably.

“Don’t be stupid,” she told him, “that’s not an attractive look on you.”

“Ah, so you do find me attractive,” he smirked.

“You’re impossible,” Imelda shook her head. “Just remember to write.”

“I will.”

“And phone the Guzmans the days that I wrote down.”

“I will.”

“And don’t so much as look at another woman.”

“I won’t.”

“And Hector,” she said with a smile so sorrowful it could have broken his heart, “good luck.”

He met Ernesto on the road.

“Hector,” he boomed, giving his friend a slap on the back, “I almost thought you’d chicken out.”

“And deprive you of my wonderful company?” Hector said. “Not to mention my incredible talents.”

Ernesto grunted a laugh. His friend was the picture of boisterous energy, radiating excitement and confidence.

“You’re not nervous at all?” Hector asked as they walked. The train station was a town over, about an hour or two on foot. Perhaps if they made enough money Hector could purchase an automobile. He’d seen them before, though never driven one. He was itching to test it out for himself. He imagined sitting in the front seat with Coco on his lap, letting her steer.

“I told you, amigo, I have that much confidence in us,” Ernesto said. “We have the talent, the dashing good looks. All we need is to seize the right moment.”

“And you’re sure this is it?”

“Of course,” he replied. “This is the moment we’ve talked about since we were boys. We’re finally getting to share our music with the world outside of Santa Cecilia.”

Hector had never been on a train before. Ernesto had, once, to visit some far-flung cousins, but as Hector’s family was either dead or in Santa Cecilia, he’d never had the opportunity. He was embarrassed to admit it, but he acted more like a boy of ten than a grown man of twenty-one. He didn’t think he closed his mouth until at least fifteen minutes after the train started.

The seats were comfortable, facing back so that he could see the sights as they rushed by. On the journey they shared drinks, told stories punctuated by laughter, and Ernesto spent a good ten minutes trying to flirt with the waitress, but Hector’s favorite part was the view. He was mesmerized by the hills and pastures, towns and villages, that sped by. For the first time in his life, he truly appreciated that there was a wide world out there, so much larger and grander than he was. Men occasionally left Santa Cecilia, either to go off to war or travel for work, to Cuidad de Mexico or another city, some even venturing as far north as Estados Unidos. Otherwise, the village you were born in was more often than not the village you died in. A part of Hector was content with that life, content to play his music for locals and embrace the role of husband and father. But another part of him yearned for something more.

Ernesto had said that they would share their music with the world. It was a wonderful thought.

Wherever Hector and Ernesto went, success followed. They always drew a crowd, and after one appearance, word of mouth would bring in even more people, all curious about the two young, handsome musicos.

“You were right, amigo,” Hector shouted to Ernesto at the end of a performance, needing to raise his voice to be heard over the crowd, “we really are popular.”

“I told you! But do you ever listen to your friend?” Ernesto laughed. “We just need to see this through, Hector, it’s only going to get better from here.”

They fell into a comfortable routine. They spent about a week or two in one town, depending on its size, living in inns and making sure to perform almost every night. Ernesto lived for it; he seemed to feed off of the energy of the crowd, the bigger and louder the better. Hector, too, was enthralled by their new lifestyle, though from time to time he found himself nostalgic for the quieter moments when he was with his familia. He made a point singing “Remember Me,” under his breath every night before going to sleep, even those nights when he was out playing late or not quite sober.

He made sure to call the Guzmans once a month at the appointed time. First he talked to Imelda, who told him any little detail that struck her fancy (“Senor Castillo is going blind in his right eye, so you can imagine how long it takes for him to find the right materials”) or grilled him about his habits (“That’s what you consider an acceptable dinner? Ay Dios mio.”). Afterwards, she’d put Coco on. Hector tried to tell the little girl as many exciting things as possible, but mostly he just listened to the seemingly unimportant stories that meant the world to a four-year-old.

“I lost a tooth, Papa! I really did! Carlos Jimenez pushed me and it fell out!”

“I’m sorry you were hurt, mija, but it’s exciting all the same.”

“If my tooth doesn’t grow back can I get a gold one like you?”

“It’ll grow back, Coco,” he laughed.

Or:

“I found a cat in the alleyway, Papa, he’s been following me everywhere. I named him Rojo because his fur’s reddish. Mama won’t let me keep him, she says Pepita will fight with him and that he has diseases. Can we get a kitten, Papa?”

Or:

“I can braid my hair all by myself now! Well, kinda. They usually fall out when I start playing.”

Inevitably, the conversation would be cut off much sooner than he would have liked, by an impatient Guzman or Imelda wanting to remind him of something. Hector marveled at how much Coco was growing. Soon she would be ready for school, and not too long after that, her first communion. Hector wondered if he’d be able to teach her to play the guitar; perhaps in a year or two.

Two months away from Santa Cecilia, Ernesto got the bright idea to hire a photographer.

“If we get our photos taken, he can get more exposure,” he reasoned to a doubtful Hector. “We can print them in the newspaper to help get the word out.”

“I don’t know,” Hector said, “they always take so long setting up and by the time they’re ready I always scratch or blink and ruin it.”

He thought about the last photograph he posed for, one that he’d arranged as a present for Imelda. He probably fidgeted more than Coco, only two at the time, but the results were magnificent.

“Quit being such a baby,” Ernesto said. “It will take five minutes.”

It took fifteen, but who was counting? They took pictures of the two of them together, posing with their guitars, and a few individual photos, which the photographer dubbed “headshots.” Hector had to admit that they weren’t bad; he was especially fond of his headshot, since he’d never seen a picture of himself that really captured his personality before.

Ernesto was right, once again: the photos brought them even more attention, which led to more paid appearances. Hector kept his own headshot in his pocket, wanting to show it off to Imelda the next time he went home.

There were girls, of course. Girls were drawn to them like flies to honey, and Ernesto hadn’t changed his womanizing ways. Some nights he didn’t return to their room at all, and Hector would find him the next morning having breakfast at the inn, acting even more cheerful than usual.

A side effect of this was that Ernesto often tried to rope Hector along. One night, after yet another successful performance, Ernesto pulled him over to a side table, where they entertained the lovely Lupe and Renata.

“You were so good,” Renata (or so he thought) gushed with a hand placed lightly on his forearm.

“Where did you learn your songs?” asked Lupe (probably). “I’ve never heard them before.”

“Ah, well, that’s because I wrote them.”

“Ay, Dios mio, you wrote them?!” Renata exclaimed.

“You’re so talented” Lupe said. “And handsome.”

Ernesto gave him a knowing smirk. Hector felt honor bound to set the record straight, especially since Ernesto had most likely mislead these poor woman.

“Mucho gracias, you’re too kind,” he said. “but being a musico has its drawbacks. Being on the road makes me miss home, especially my wife and daughter.”

“Aw, you have a daughter? How old?”

“Four.”

“What’s her name?”

“Socorro.”

“This is so sweet!”

To Hector’s surprise, this only seemed to make them more interested in him, as if being a family man only added to his attractiveness.

“Pardon me, senoritas,” he said, standing, “I, uh, need to use the restroom.”

Ernesto frowned after him, but didn’t say anything.

Ernesto returned to their room just before midnight. Hector was still awake, lying in bed and writing in his leather-bound journal. Ernesto scowled at his friend.

“What were you doing back there? After you left, we were uneven. Lupe was feeling left out, so they both went off somewhere else.”

“Sorry for that,” Hector said, “I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. It’s just, you know, married,” he tapped the ring on his left hand for emphasis.

“Plenty of men are married but don’t act like they’re allergic to girls,” Ernesto grumbled.

Hector thought back to Imelda’s words: “I know what musicos are like.” He knew that a lot of men would not have a second thought about going to bed with Lupe or Renata, married or not. He knew that if Ernesto had a sweetheart or wife back home, he’d probably still chase girls at night. But Hector couldn’t be like that. He knew that Imelda’s anger towards “musicos” was a front to hide her pain and fear. But she didn’t need to be worried in that regard; he’d meant it, wholeheartedly, when he said he only had eyes for her.

“Well, I’m not like those men,” Hector said.

Ernesto shook his head. “What happened to you, mi amigo? You’ve changed in the last few years.”

Hector wanted to retort that he’d always been this way—he’d started his odd courtship with Imelda when they were fourteen, for God’s sake—and that it was kind of, sort of, shitty for Ernesto to put him in situations like that, knowing how Hector felt. But he didn’t say any of that; he valued their peaceful relationship too much to be petty. So he went back to his writing, allowing Ernesto to sulk in silence, letting him get it out of his system.

Before he knew it, they’d been away from home for five months. Hector was only a few weeks away from his twenty-second birthday, and two weeks after that, it would be Coco’s fifth.

Hector was almost scared of how popular they were becoming in such a short period of time. A small part of him had always expected to fail, despite Ernesto’s unwavering optimism. It had been Hector’s dream since he was a niño to share his music with the world, but he couldn’t shake the fear that he’d ruin it somehow, that he really was the daydreaming screw-up that everyone always called him.

However, success did not equal freedom. It seemed that the more popular they became, the more Ernesto insisted that they needed to do. They needed more performances, to travel even farther, to prolong their return home to the ever vague “just a few more weeks.” And while it was wonderful sharing his music, expanding his abilities, five months was an awfully long time to be away from a wife and growing child. While Ernesto basked in the glory, Hector found his thoughts turning more and more towards his family in Santa Cecilia.

It was a letter that sent him over the edge. Such a simple thing, really. Hector had been true to his word, sometimes sending letters twice a week, always making sure to keep Imelda updated on his travel plans. Letters still got lost, inevitably. They moved around so much that sometimes they were already gone by the time a letter arrived, but still, Hector got most of them (or some of them, he actually wasn’t entirely sure how many had been lost).

For the most part, the letter wasn’t remarkable. It contained Imelda’s usual updates on the goings on of Santa Cecilia, her progress with Senor Castillo, and Coco’s growth. There was one tiny difference: at the bottom of the letter, written in large, uncertain letters, was “CoCO”

She wrote her name. His baby could write her own name now. He brushed his fingers over the letters, noting how she capitalized every letter except, for some unknown reason, the first “o.” He imagined Imelda guiding Coco’s unsteady hand, forming each letter slowly. He pictured Coco’s excitement at getting to sign her name for her papa.

Where had all the time gone? How did he now have a child with missing teeth who could braid her own hair and write her own name? What else would he miss, if he stayed away any longer?

Enough was enough. He needed to see his family now. Then, perhaps, after spending time with his family, he could decide how to proceed, but for now, he couldn’t stand another day apart. Ernesto would be angry at first, but he’d understand. Hector began to pack, imagining the surprised looks on Imelda’s and Coco’s faces when he showed up at their casa the next morning, how he’d pick up Coco and spin her around…

“What are you doing, Hector? We’re not leaving for another two days,” came his friend’s voice. The grin slid off Ernesto’s face. “Hector? What’s going on?”

So he told him, and as predicted, Ernesto did not react well. Hector had prepared himself for anger, but he had no idea how to handle the pure devastation that came over his friend, like he’d been deflated. Ernesto pleaded with him even admitting how lost he’d be without Hector’s songs, how he couldn’t go on without his amigo at his side.

Hector felt the barest twinge of guilt to see his childhood friend so distressed, but it was not enough to sway him. Right now, Imelda and Coco were all that mattered.

“Hate me if you want,” he said firmly, “but my mind is made up.”

He turned to the door when Ernesto’s voice called him back.

“Oh, I could never hate you. If you must go then I’m sending you off with a toast.”

There was the Ernesto he knew, bouncing back already. He figured that he owed his friend that much, so paused to share a drink.

“I would move heaven and earth for you, mi amigo. Salut!” The glasses clinked together.

Hector downed his drink without a thought.

“Thank you, Ernesto,” he said, “but I need to catch the train.”

“Let me walk you,” Ernesto sprang to the door. “It’s the least I could do. Besides, I’m not going to be able to sleep any time soon.”

The cool night air hit Hector as soon as he stepped out of the door. He took a deep breath, savoring the knowledge that this was his last night away from home. From tomorrow on, he’d spend his evenings breathing in the smell of Imelda’s cooking, avoiding stepping on Coco’s dolls as he walked around the house, and playing music for his smallest audience yet.

As they walked, Ernesto filled the silence.

“Perhaps this is for the best. Seeing your family will do you good, and who knows, maybe it’ll inspire you to write more. But even if you don’t come back, Hector, I want you to know that it’s been a privilege playing with you. You’ve helped me more than you know…”

Hector barely heard a word. The more he walked, the more he noticed the pain in his stomach. It was gradual at first, barely distinguishable from the minor aches and pains that accompanied daily life, but with each footstep it grew worse. Hector tried to ignore it, but it became so intense that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

What the…? he thought. Did I eat something that had gone bad?

It was like he was being stabbed from the inside out. He hunched over, clutching his stomach, gritting out an anguished cry. He felt Ernesto’s arms around him, heard him say something about a chorizo, but he couldn’t focus on that. All he registered was the pain, and his desperate wish that it would end, for the love of God, please.

His legs were too weak to hold his weight. They buckled underneath him. He just needed to rest. Yes. He wouldn’t feel so weak if he could just rest for a bit, just until the pain went away. He closed his eyes, and felt everything else slip away.