#question mark? its not really long but whatever any ted writing goes in the ted drabbles i suppose !

[jrueships]

Any wiz fic

I have So many.. before the Bad Beal era.. BUT!!! i can share a Snippet of one of my newer old ones!!!!! Just 4 u anon!!!!!

a chorus of synchronized 'oooh's cycled endless throughout the wizards like a snake devouring its own tail, plunging Deni farther down the loose rings of Embarrassment. But its transformation into thunderous cackles dug the grave.

The cacophony of clacking gold against shined silver combined with yodeling wails was enough of an indicator that Montrezl and Gafford were splitting their sides the heaviest.

"Who you writin' LOVE LETTERS to?? What kind of period typical romance BULLSHIT is THAT?"

Looping an arm around his sidekick in coltish disbelief, Trez grinned grillz at the younger, and when that jolly was deflected by bashful bowed head, he instead shared a glance with his partner in crime. Which was swiftly broken, erupting back into wailing as Gafford admired Montrezl's words back in his face.

" a real couple of rodeo Clowns, those two. "

Aaron holiday, arched on his tiptoes, rubbed a sympathetic hand against Deni's shoulder. Shaking his head in a manner of 'don't mind those jingling fools', he muttered hushed and polite, " I'm sure whatever cheerleader you mean those for is going to love it. "

Deni managed a sidewinder smile from the floor, eyes flickering low to share in their secret. A misinterpreted secret, but a secret nonetheless.

Yeah, a cheerleader.

His gaze is back downwards, scanning the ground. They stop at familiar two-toned shoes, pink and white, as he replies a courteous thank you.

Sure.

[pandylovepost]

what are your headcanons for andy and panchos relationships with the other characters in the kingdom? ❤❤❤ I love your blog!!

ohhh i love this question & tysm!! 🧡

it ended up being rlly long so here’s the cut ;)

Pancho

•Julien; Julien is like a brother or cousin to Pancho! He trusts the king more than anything after Julien basically saved .. well himself, but also him. any scheme Julien comes up with that he knows Maurice wouldnt approve of, he’ll go to pancho

•Maurice; maurice has a kind of wary vibe around Pancho ever since Pancho suggested eating him on the sub in exiled. he’s suspicious of him mainly because he wants to protect Julien tho, & he cant shake that Pancho is (or was) a sleeper agent programmed with the sole purpose of killing his best friend so

•Clover: Pancho is kinda cautious around clover since she’s always round the corner ready to bust him & Andy’s schemes. when it comes down to it they DO work together as they aknowledge each others skillsets. literally pancho is the only lemur (from the kingdom) who’s beaten Clover in combat. just once though.

•Mort; Pancho just......aknowlegdes his existance. he’s there i guess. doesn’t find mort as terrifying & creepy as the average citizen but Panch has probably seen worse. or he just doesn’t care. mort also does crimes so theyre just aware of each other.

•Becca & Abner; he’s kinda friends with them cus Andy’s friends with them. he goes round to deliver them stuff sometimes like moonshine or weapons from Andy. He probably shouldn’t pay too much attention to their government conspiracy theories though, they tend to really freak his paranoid ass out

•Timo; Timo is scared of Pancho or at least wary. He admittadly would like to study him tho & Panch is often a great help to him doing manual labour for any of Timo’s big projects

•Masikura; she mindmelded with him once & swore never again. she just doesn’t wanna know.

•Ted; Ted has a lil crush on Pancho (he’s one of Ted’s many crushes) & Panch will lightly flirt with him sometimes when he’s in the mood to. Pancho will bicker & grouch with him but they are really tight friends especially after their time together during exiled.

•Dorothy; at first she saw Pancho as this ideal bad boy type, but then realised how bad he smells cus he hates bathing. She’ll offer him tea like she does with everyone & (begrudingly often) lets him crash with her & Ted when they all stumble back drunk after a night out. Literally her & Ted both just have a mutual crush on Pancho is that not canon though

•Willie; despite being mean to Willie like EVERYONE ELSE IS Pancho and Willie are quite good friends. He’ll go stay with him whenever he’s worried about something cus he knows Willie will understand. sometime’s he’s too panicky for Pancho to be around though cus it sets him off

•Hector; I WANT THEM TO BOND OVER MILITARY HARDSHIPS & EXPERIENCE I THINK IT WOULD BE HELPFUL & HEALING FOR THE BOTH OF THEM! I should write about this sometime..........

•Horst; the DJ friend who he can always have a crazy sesh with; they actually get along pretty good. except when Pancho’s out here stealing his bolos. Like with everyone, Horst just rambles to Pancho when he’s drunk.

•Tammy, Butterfish & Todd; no real connection to them besides that him & Butterfish will often do the same jobs. They usually just make casual work chat. Tammy thinks Pancho is posessed by demons but he doesn’t let that phase him.

•Karl: he’s not rlly a “kingdom citizen” but he’s about there enough so. anyway Pancho just doesn’t treat Karl like the evil genius villain he portrays at all, since Pancho’s own morality is in the grey area, which kinda infuriates Karl that Pancho just talks to him like hes a normal person. he wants Julien’s people to FEAR HIM!!

•Dr. S; Absolutely not. they don’t even really have a friendship of any kind & Pancho is terrified of going to see the doctor as Dr. S literally experiments on lemurs...he’s not about that after what happened with the previous king.......Andy often has to drag him to the hospital kicking & biting to get him to go to checkups

•Nurse Phantom; u know what they’ve never interacted in canon but I think Nurse Phantom senses how troubled & anxious he is & takes a lot of time to talk to Pancho like if ever Andy or anyone else manages to drag him to the hospital, Rob will hold his hand if it comes to it; he goes into major helpful mode like offering him fruit & telling him he’s gonna be alright. He’ll also scold him for getting into so many dangerous scrapes & tells him he’s gotta look after himself!

Andy

•Julien; for some reason Julien just refuses to exile him even after all the bad shit he’s done BUT i think that’s because Andy is overall helpful to him like he ignores all the weirdness for example when they walked in on him & that rat holding a body wrapped in leaves because hey! we need tropheys Andy fast! thats the issue here!! perhaps its Julien’s awful adhd memory though & he just genuinely forgets. Julien is close with Pancho of course so Andy’s been round to the plane for parties & dinner as Pancho’s +1 of sorts— heck even he can be “polite” when he has to be.

•Maurice; Momo hates him. hates him hates him theres no turning back. i mean its hard not to when most of the citizens suffer from rediculous lemur stupidity & ur the only one who can see through this bat when he’s just standing there chatting shit. Very suspicious of Andy— plus he just thinks he’s creepy

•clover; LMAO bUT .....like obviously she hates him for good reason. but i do have this hc that’s way too long to write out that after Julien, Maurice & Mort literally fucked off to go with the zoosters in madagascar 2 Clover was literally responsible for two kingdoms cus she couldnt just leave them with a gecko in charge. I just want some situation where theres a proper twist & Andy ends up mellowing the hell out & actually being useful to her & the kingdom...he has skills but he uses them for nefarious reasons. She’d probably save his life somehow in the post-Julien chaos & he’d b like....”why would YOU of all people save ME?” n she’d b like... “well you are technically a citizen of this kingdom and ....i’ve gotta make sure you’re ALL safe for when ..... if King Julien ever gets back.....”

•mort; ??? sometimes theyre legit business partners. Mort can get in on a good scam. that second rub’s gonna cost ya. theyve probably been in the same prison before at one point. Mort’s so old.

•Becca & Abner; his fellow anti-establishment pals!! he doesn’t fully believe all of their ideas & theories but he loves em cus they’ll always buy self defence scorps off him. They get along & they drink a lot together by the stagnant watering hole. they’ve seen Andy in horrible states; all 3 of them are an idiot squad when theyre together. Becca & Andy argue a lot cus even she thinks some of the things he says are wack sometimes

•Timo; i have this hc that Timo, Andy & Karl knew each other when they were kids they kinda bonded together during school cus they were three non-lemur losers who got bullied for their eccentricity & varying levels of intelligence. Timo will sometimes go to Andy for stuff but he is his last resort really

•Masikura; probably mindmelded with him once & just saw a vision of him daydreaming about being kissed by Pancho & since then she was like. “Im not scared of the bird demon he’s just a big softie. where is my shipment of “ect” for my tea, that bird demon’s late again—“

•Ted; Ted is such an easy mark he can sell almost anything to him if he’s cheery enough. Helps that Ted thinks he’s really cute so Andy can just easily sweet talk him into buying whatever dodgy product he’s got at the moment. he knows & interacts with Ted mainly through Pancho being his friend!

•Dorothy; rlly wild hc actually that Dorothy used to be a propper crime don before she settled down with Ted— or when Ted was shifting into Snake more frequently back in the day for whatever reason—so Andy knows her from the criminal underworld. Cus of this he’s very respectful towards her... he’s seen what she’s capable of

•Willie; Andy could walk round the corner with his wings outstretched & say “boo” & Willie would pass out from shock. He’s also very easy for Andy to sell to- his fearmongering really works on Willie he’s very suseptable to it

•Hector; Hector doesn’t take any of Andy’s crap he’d probably just hit him with a broom if he came round his hut to sell him dodgy hand cream honestly

•Horst; Andy keeps him topped up with a steady supply of beverages...........Horst will actually sometimes ask him & Pancho for help with importing various new vinyl records

•Tammy, Butterfish & Todd; that family buys a LOT of product off him since they’re just typical americans basically he finds it rlly easy & reliable to sell stuff like drinks & toys to them. Tammy kinda hates Andy though & like Pancho, thinks he’s a demon. Doesn’t help that Mort nicknamed him “bird demon”.

•Karl; like with Timo i hc he knew him when they were in highschool—! Karl found Andy infuriating & so annoying though & didn’t consider him a friend at all. a lot of his early lazer guns were born from Karl’s growing need to shoot Andy out of the sky cus he’d fly up to get out of reach of his claws when he’d annoyed him.

•Dr. S; i hc that Andy and Dr.S are business or trading partners of sorts but they keep it very lowkey. Andy probably handles hits and the crazy snake doctor requires bodies and “test subjects” for his manic experiments. Andy is the perfect guy for the job! When Nurse Phantom is unable, Andy will hide the evidence of Dr.S’ malpractice for a reasonable fee, of course. He dislikes going to checkups himself though— he doesn’t like people knowing too much about him! Plus Dr.S always “””jokes””” about “””studying””” him because he finds the fact Andy is a flying mammal facinating & talks about using Andy’s wings to create a frankenstein flying lemur.

•Nurse Phantom; Rob just lectures him about being reckless & getting into fights everytime he sees him. Kinda the same as Dr. S really, but he does tell him like.. Hey I used to be pretty mean & put people in danger too. And that there’s always time to turn another leaf. Andy usually just scoffs, collects his paycheck, & leaves.

[raywritesthings]

Wrong Road to the Right Place 19/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, John Diggle, Ted Grant, Thea Queen, Tommy Merlyn, Moira Queen, Malcolm Merlyn, Walter Steele, Felicity Smoak Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel finds herself curious about the marks Oliver showed her that night in his bedroom - and the tattoo on his left shoulder stands out in particular. When she discovers its meaning, she finds herself questioning everything she knows about the man she doesn’t want to admit she still loves. *Can also be read on my AO3 page*

Oliver sat, pouring over pages and pages of notes, schematics and documents. Five years’ worth of them, and yet it seemed unreal.

“How does a person sleep at night, knowing they’re planning that?” Digg asked behind him, not for the first time. “He must not even see them as people.”

The enormity of it was crushing. A whole neighborhood. Potential casualties in the hundreds, maybe a thousand. Everyone in the Glades, the people who came to the Verdant, the Big Belly Burger where Carly Diggle worked and Laurel’s office all gone in a single act of terror. That was what they were up against, and without the aid of some mystery man concealing his face Oliver would never have known until it was too late.

The worst part of it all was that while these were files originating from Malcolm Merlyn, they had come from a different source: his mother.

“She knows about all this...how could she…?”

He didn’t finish the question because he already knew the answer. Him, Thea, Walter. And there was maybe the one spot of good in all of this, because Felicity had been able to find the reason why his step-father had gone missing. But it also told them that Malcolm was a man of his word who would follow through on the threats that he made.

The door to the base opened and Laurel hurried down. “I got your text. What did we find out?”

“See for yourself,” John answered. Oliver left his seat to let her read over the most relevant pieces. He could tell as each new part of the plan was processed just by the paling of her cheeks and the growing horror in her eyes.

“Does he have the bomb?”

“Not according to the latest status report.”

“Then it’s still at Unidac.”

He nodded.

“That might be our best shot, Oliver,” said John. “If we can get into Unidac and destroy their work, that sets Merlyn back months. Maybe years.”

It was a solid plan with only one flaw. “Unidac was bought by Queen Consolidated. Not Merlyn Global.”

“Malcolm probably wanted to cover his tracks. It would’ve looked suspicious for Merlyn Global to suddenly acquire a tech company,” Laurel pointed out. “And it gives him cover for if the police were to look into anything.”

“Exactly.” If he went into Unidac tonight, Laurel’s father and his people would be asking his mother questions. She would be the one implicated, not Merlyn. Exactly as the businessman planned, no doubt.

“Oliver, I know this isn’t easy, but she is involved,” Diggle pointed out. “If Merlyn does go down, she’ll be going with him. He’d make sure of that.”

“I know that, I just—” He didn’t know how to articulate his feelings. His father was far from perfect, Lord knew, but she was his mother. And everything she had done was for him and his sister. Could he turn around and condemn her?

Without the hit on Laurel, it would have been a resounding no. But now?

“Malcolm still has a hostage,” Laurel said. “Your mother’s documents wouldn’t have Walter’s location, but is there some lead we could follow to get to it?”

Oliver shook his head. “If there was, she would’ve followed it.”

He was paralyzed on all sides by indecision. Acting on the Unidac intel put Walter’s life in jeopardy, but could they wait to find Walter before acting on the information they had?

“Maybe instead of following your mother’s leads, we follow her,” Digg suggested. Oliver looked to him with a frown. “You told her I was reaching out to some contacts, right? You say to her one of them got back to me and said they found Walter dead. She goes to Merlyn and tries to call the whole deal they got going on off. He’ll have to give her proof he’s still alive.”

It was a risky bid, but he could see where it was going. “We trace that proof.”

His friend nodded.

“Okay, but after we rescue Walter, what if Merlyn decides your mother is a leak?” Laurel asked. “He could move this Markov device to another facility or change up his plan entirely.”

“Then we strike in two places at once,” Oliver decided after a long moment. “Digg will get into Unidac while I get Walter. It’ll have to be simultaneous.”

“Two solo missions at the same time. Won’t be easy,” Digg remarked.

“That’s not even everything,” Laurel added. “I just filed the deposition against Edward Rasmus before your text came in. He’ll know there’s a case against him now.”

“And so will the Bratva,” Oliver finished for her. This was not good. Obviously, Laurel couldn’t have turned that family away. Scum like Rasmus deserved to be prosecuted for stealing from the innocent. But it complicated things.

“I’m worried about them,” Laurel said. “If Rasmus has ties to the mob, what’s to stop him or them from sending someone to enforce the Moore’s silence?”

Nothing was the answer to that and they all knew it.

“Walter and Unidac will be time-sensitive,” he told her. “We have to go there tonight.”

“Of course you do.” Laurel took a breath and said, “God, everything’s moving so fast.”

“If it was one thing at a time…” He didn’t like the idea of splitting his focus, of worrying about two separate dangers not just to his family but the people of the city. If it was a choice between Laurel and others, it was one he didn’t want to make because he knew which he heart would choose.

But she shook her head. “I’ll talk to Ted, see if he has any advice. You shouldn’t be anywhere near this case, anyway, or the Bratva might suspect the Hood has ties to us.”

It was the same rationale for why he hadn’t gone to the drug deal with the Count in his vigilante persona, and it was just as crucial now.

“Be careful wherever you go now. They’re going to have their eyes on us.”

Laurel nodded. “That goes for you, too.”

Oliver couldn’t help a smile. It had been a long time since anyone who knew what he was capable of had bothered to worry about him.

“So we all know our plans of action,” Diggle said. “This is gonna really play our hand. I know Felicity thinks this information is genuine, but do we know we can trust it?”

It was something that had been niggling at the back of his head as well. Oliver didn’t like relying on others in a mission, especially when he didn’t know them. And if there was maybe the faintest chance that the information was bad, that they would be acting falsely, that his mother was still, perhaps, somewhat an innocent even after all she’d done…

He turned to Laurel. “You spoke to him.”

She took a breath, and he could see her visibly steeling herself. “Yes.”

If it were any other situation he might have laughed. Laurel was all heart, and it showed on her face. “You know who he is.”

“I do.”

“You do?” Digg echoed.

Laurel raised a hand. “But I made a promise. He wants to keep his anonymity for now. I don’t want to scare him off.”

He tried to tamp down a frustrated reply. Who could be so important—

And then he knew. Or he thought he did, because it had to be wrong. How and why would he have—?

He had to be sure. “You trust him.”

Laurel nodded. “Completely.”

“Well,” Oliver said, a million questions buzzing in his head. “That’s all I need to know.”

Laurel closed her eyes. “He’s going to kill me.”

“You didn’t break your promise,” he assured her.

“Hold on, now you know who this questions guy is?” Asked John.

“Yes, and we can trust him.” He said nothing else under Diggle’s scrutiny, which he could tell the other man was annoyed by.

“I don’t think it’ll take much,” Laurel assured their friend. “He’ll have to come back here if he wants the information we had decrypted anyway.”

“If this ends up being some kind of trap,” John began.

“It won’t be.” Oliver checked his watch. “If we’re going to do this, I need to go speak with my mother.” It was not something he was looking forward to; he hadn’t actually seen her since they’d moved out of the Manor. A part of him worried he would give himself away.

“I’ll call Felicity,” said Diggle. “She’s gonna need to track whatever tech Merlyn uses to prove he’s kept up his end of the deal.” He moved off to the other end of the base as he got out his phone.

Oliver turned back to Laurel. “Tommy.”

She shrugged, her lips curving in something like a smile. “I was just as surprised as you are. I guess he got tired of being the last one to know everything, so he did some digging himself.”

Oliver nodded, trying to process the idea. True, Tommy had done some extraordinary things in the past — a trip to Hong Kong came to mind, which he guiltily set aside — but to turn to illegal methods like this?

“I have been a bad influence on both of you.”

“Now you sound like my father,” Laurel pointed out. “I think this city’s been the biggest influence on all of us.”

That certainly held true.

Laurel stepped up closer. “I’m sorry I couldn’t just tell you myself.”

But Oliver shook his head. “I understand.” Laurel and Tommy had a bond, one that had been forged stronger over the years in his absence. He couldn’t fault them that. “If it had been me in your place, I don’t know that I wouldn’t have agreed to the same terms.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing we know each other so well.” Laurel’s smile faded. “After tonight, things are going to get more dangerous.”

“They will.”

“I should warn my father. I just don’t know how to do that without...without telling him everything. Which is impossible,” she added before he needed to.

He didn’t have advice but he could provide assurance. “You’ll find a way.”

“You should talk to Thea,” she told him. His lips pulled into a frown. “Ollie, there are potentially huge changes about to happen in her life and to the people around her. She should be at least a little prepared.”

He knew she was right. “I just want her to be safe.”

Laurel stepped up closer to him. “And she will be. We’ll make sure of it.”

He sighed, taking Laurel’s hands in each of his. “I don’t know how everyone I care about comes out of this. On the island, that was something that happened, too.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, thinking of Shado. “I didn’t think I’d have to make those kind of choices here.”

“I’m sorry. But we’ll make them together.” Laurel went up on her toes, to hug him rather than kiss him, which he found he truly needed more. When she pulled away, she cupped his face. “Just one thing at a time. We all know what to do.”

He nodded. “Talking to my mother. Not exactly an easy task considering.”

Her lips curved in a wry smile. “Tell me about it.”

“Oliver, ready to go?” John called out.

“Yeah,” he answered back. Laurel let him go, and he headed out to the car. Oliver did his best to try and forget the rest of their plan in the moment; right now, he needed to be convincing despite the confusion and disappointment he felt towards his mother. He needed to lie as effectively as she’d been lying to him.

The gates of the Manor shut with finality as the car went up the drive. John stopped the car momentarily in front of the house and pulled away once Oliver had exited. Inside, he found his mother and Thea just sitting down to dinner. His sister looked up with surprise giving way to happiness. “Ollie!”

“Hey, Speedy,” he replied in a far more subdued tone, his eyes quickly finding their mother again. She looked far more reserved than Thea by comparison, almost afraid.

If she was afraid, it was because she knew that in setting an attack on Laurel, she had put them on opposite sides. And she didn’t even realize what she might have to fear from him — if she were anyone else.

Oliver let that conflict within him fuel his performance. “I have some news. It’s about Walter. Um, Mr. Diggle heard from some of his contacts in the CIA…”

Thea gasped as he trailed off. When he glanced up at his mother again, the shock on her face looked completely genuine. She looked to be buying it.

When it changed into anger, he knew she had.

“No. No, that’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, mom,” he said, some part of him still aching at seeing the distress he was causing her.

“Whatever Mr. Diggle’s contacts told him, it’s wrong.” She stood up, striding from the room.

“Mom!” Thea called.

“I’m going to sort this out, sweetheart. Stay in the house, both of you.”

Oliver kept his gaze down until he heard the front door open and shut. Then he started to leave as well.

“Ollie!” Thea shot up out of her chair and ran to intercept him. “Where are you going?”

“To follow mom,” he answered truthfully. “Just to make sure she’s okay.” That part was the lie. “Do what she says.”

“But—”

“Please, Thea,” he said. He could see the worry and the frustration in her eyes now. Laurel was right; his sister was struggling to understand what was happening all around her. “Just for a little longer.”

With that nebulous promise — to her and to himself — Oliver got on his bike to follow his mother to Merlyn Global. Once his surveillance tech got Walter’s location, it would bring him one step closer to tearing Malcolm’s plans for the city and for his family down.

And potentially one step closer to tearing them all apart.

—-

Ted got out of the ring just as he noticed Laurel approaching at a fast clip. She wasn’t dressed for boxing, either.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” Ted walked them back to his office. “Alright, what’s happened now?”

“I filed the deposition against the businessman the Bratva are tied to today, which puts the family in danger. I was wondering if tonight, I could bring them here to hide out.”

“While you do what?”

Laurel shrugged. “About the only thing I can think of. Tell my dad what’s going on so the police can set up a sting operation.”

It was the responsible option at the least. He might have even been inclined to agree with it a few months ago. But he couldn’t help asking, “And what happens to you?”

“Well,” Laurel began before taking a deep breath. “I’m probably going to be answering a lot of questions about my connections to the Bratva.”

“Which may get back to the boyfriend.”

“I would never turn him in.”

“Yeah, but if your father’s anything like you, he’s a smart guy. He can put two and two together.” Ted frowned in thought. “I’m not sure I like Robin Hood. He’s a little too eager to dish out capital punishment for one thing. But I worry even more about what might happen now in his absence.”

Like it or not, the Hood was an established presence in Starling City. His capture would cause a power vacuum, and there could be far worse waiting to fill it.

“I don’t know what else to do. Rasmus and the Bratva have to be stopped, but the Hood has a different mission tonight.”

“Important?”

“Absolutely,” Laurel said with such conviction it was striking. Ted wondered...but no, the less he knew, probably the better. The deeper he got into this, the more likely he was to end up back in the fight himself.

But was that such a bad thing?

He had hung up his suit for good after Isaac had gone too far and a man had ended up dead. It had seemed the right thing to do at the time. But if he could save lives now by putting it back on, what other choice did he have?

“Okay, then here’s what we do,” he said at last. “Moving the family is only going to alert these guys that you’re ready for them. We’re going to have to set a trap.”

“With the family as bait?” She looked pained even saying it.

“It’s risky, but from what I know of the mob, they’re only gonna send one guy. Make it look like a burglary gone wrong. I can handle one guy.”

Laurel blinked in shock. “You would?” When he nodded, a smile lit up her face and he thought she was barely holding back from hugging him. “Ted, thank you.”

He shrugged. “I’m not in the business of letting good people suffer. Now, do you have their address? If we’re gonna do this, we need to know the terrain. And make sure they’re ready to move the minute anything starts.”

Ted closed up the gym early and went with Laurel to scope out the family’s small home. There were a few different points of entry which might make things tricky, but he had a feeling the hired gun was going to come through the front door. There was a spot he could wait between two houses across the street that allowed him a view of the front and one side. It would have to do. Laurel and he parted ways, her to get the family ready and him to prepare.

He returned under the cover of darkness in his old suit. Putting it on felt like donning a second skin for the first time in so many years. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. Ted watched and waited. Stakeout had rarely been his style, but he was willing to do it to keep a family safe. Eventually, his patience was rewarded.

An otherwise unremarkable looking man with a closely shaved head and dark skin came walking down the street. He held a briefcase and little else. Still, he set off the warning bells in Ted’s head, and he’d learned years ago never to ignore them. When the man approached the Moore’s front steps, he knew his suspicions were right.

Ted crept from the shadows, light on his feet as he approached. His mark tensed, so he figured it was best to go for broke.

“Scuse me,” he called out. “Pretty late, don’t you think?”

The man whirled around, and Ted was forced to dive into a roll to avoid the bullet that came from the briefcase. Clever disguise. This guy had brought a gun to a boxing match. Normally, that’d decide things right there. Not against Wildcat.

He was back on his feet and leaping forward before the man could take better aim, delivering an uppercut with his leading fist while his other hand ripped the briefcase from his opponent’s grasp.

The assassin fell back against the door but quickly got his guard back up. A fighter, too. Good. Ted was ready for a fight.

They regarded each other. In the ring, he might have tried getting the man circling, but he wanted his focus away from the house and the movement going on inside.

There was a small trickle of blood leaking from a corner of the assassin’s mouth, but his eyes were practically gleaming. “Even if I’d expected a vigilante, this would be a surprise.”

“That’s the idea.”

“I’m intrigued, but since you’ve seen my face, we’ll have to skip the pleasantries.”

They both flew into action, Ted landing a flurry of blows. He could tell the man was straining to reach the briefcase, but he kept him boxed in on the front stoop. As long as this was a fistfight, he had the upper hand.

His opponent got in a lucky jab, and Ted grunted, staggering back. He’d been slacking, apparently. Training would have to be stepped up, for him and his student.

Just as the man made to lunge for the briefcase a few feet away, the door flew open and a nightstick came down on the assassin with a sharp crack. He went down like a ton of bricks, revealing a person in all black from their boots to the mask they wore over their eyes and the knitted cap hiding their hair. “You alright?” Laurel asked.

He relaxed his stance. “Sure.”

“You didn’t think I was just going to watch, did you?”

“Guess not. Where in the hell did you get that?” He asked, gesturing to the nightstick. 

“Borrowed it.”

“And I suppose you borrowed the mask from your boyfriend?”

“Nope,” she answered lightly, coming down the steps. She took out a pair of handcuffs she had clearly liberated as well and snapped them over the assassin’s wrists. “This one’s mine to keep. Now come on, the Moore’s alerted the authorities.”

Before he knew it, his student had looped her arm through his and they were quickly making their way from the scene. In an alley, Ted pulled back his cowl and she took off the hat, her hair falling down around her shoulders.

“So, any pointers?”

Ted smirked. That enthusiasm was good; it would be invaluable after a time, when the work eventually might take its toll. Nobody could force themselves to be out here unless they really believed in it.

“Why the hat?”

“Had to hide my hair somehow.”

“Do you?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“This is gonna sound crass, but one of the best weapons you have at your disposal is looking like a woman.”

She crossed her arms. “That did sound crass. Want to qualify your statement?”

“Look, I know better than to think this way, but plenty of guys out there are gonna think they can go easy on you because they’re arrogant. It’s your job to teach them otherwise.” That got a grudging smirk out of her, which he returned. “So forget the hat.”

“Don’t I need something to cover my hair?”

“Who says it has to be your hair?”

She didn’t miss what he was saying. “A wig.”

“Might even help throw the police and anyone else off your trail.”

Laurel nodded.

“One other thing you’re gonna need. A name. Especially since you’re planning on working with a partner.” Ted still had his misgivings about the Hood’s harsher methods — he’d never wanted to cross that line himself — but seeing as Laurel had explained a bit of her boyfriend’s background he could understand it a little better. It helped that since she’d joined up with him, the archer’s body count had significantly dropped. Maybe once she was out in the field officially, they could get that down to zero or damned close.

“We’ve been talking about that,” Laurel told him on a sigh. Something about it indicated she hadn’t found one she liked yet. “How’d you pick Wildcat?”

“My fighting style, mostly. It’s how people described me. That plus I’m a southpaw, it fits. What are your boys calling you?”

Laurel snorted at his description of her partners, then admitted, “Pretty Bird, for the time being. It’s kind of an inside joke,” she added at his raised eyebrow.

“Well, you have any particular liking for birds?”

She shrugged. “Not exactly. My dad got Sara a canary one year for her birthday, and it just drove us all nuts chirping away...but maybe that’s what I want to be.”

A canary, ripping through the criminal underbelly and sounding her song of warning in the Glades, Starling’s proverbial coal mine. Not a bad idea. And as he looked over her dark attire, it hit him: “Black Canary.”

Laurel looked at him, a light in her eyes. It was the right one, and they both knew it.

They found themselves at the halfway point between his gym and Queen’s club, meaning they would go alone the rest of the way.

“Well, I’d say we can consider this good work tonight. Now we just gotta prepare for your boyfriend’s associates once they realize they’ve been crossed.”

“If only that were all,” Laurel said grimly. As she walked away, Ted found he really wanted to ask what that meant, and what he could do.

He smirked at himself. So much for giving this life up.

—-

John felt an uncommon bout of nerves as he stopped the car outside of Unidac Industries’ facility. He’d been on far more dangerous assignments, both in Afghanistan and for the Hood’s mission, but this was the first time he was really going out solo as himself.

Or the self people would hear about on the news, rather. He checked again that the helmet Oliver had rushed to have custom made for him was in place, then got out of the vehicle.

It had been a simple matter to have Felicity pull up Unidac’s blueprints, so he knew exactly where to avoid cameras and the sight lines of any guards as he approached the building. John drew in a deep breath, then unholstered the weapon at his side. 

He turned and kicked the front door in, firing off two shots at the guards sitting at the front desk.

“What the—” They each slumped over, out cold for the next half hour or so.

A woman passing down the hall screamed and dropped her coffee mug. It shattered on the floor, followed by shouts of surprise and alarm throughout the building as John quick-marched down the hall.

“I’m not here to hurt anybody,” he said. “Just keep out of the way.”

He’d armed himself with a tranquilizer rather than his usual gun. For one thing, that weapon was registered to John Diggle, and for another, he wasn’t interested in permanently injuring these scientists. Even if they did know what they were doing and what it was supposed to lead to, he figured the police and the courts of law could deal with them. He was only here for one thing: the bomb.

With the security guards taken out, the remaining scientists that tried to put up any resistance were easy pickings. They weren’t trained soldiers or battle-hardened insurgents, at any rate. John cut a swift path into the lab said to house the Markov device.

He paused in the doorway. “Damn.” The thing was huge!

But fortunately not armed yet when he checked it, so he sent it toppling to the ground. The casing cracked on one side and some of it dented inwards. John reached in to rip out wires and smash any small parts he could find. Then he picked the whole thing up and dropped it again, this time cracking it in two.

He threw a chair through a bank of computers and servers along one wall as well for good measure. He hadn’t permanently hurt anybody at the facility, but he didn’t mind trashing their stuff. Served them right. John wondered with amusement what Oliver would say about the insurance bill that was no doubt going to end up on his mother’s desk after this. If his mother would even be sitting at that desk for much longer.

“No, no! What are you doing!” An older man hastily pulling on a lab coat rushed in, probably summoned by the alarm.

John raised the tranq gun and fired, watching with only the slightest wince as the man crashed to the floor seconds later.

“Believe it or not, this is for your own good.” Or the city’s good, anyway. This guy probably lived in some McMansion outside the city limits and didn’t know anybody in the Glades.

John turned to go when he spotted some files lying open on the workstation next to where the device had been sitting. He picked them up, but sirens had him quickly racing out the door.

He only just got out of there in time and thanked every deity known to man he wasn’t stopped by any cop cars on his way back to the base. He found it empty; Oliver and Laurel were still preoccupied with their own tasks, then.

Mission accomplished, he felt his heart rate slow down as he set the helmet aside and began flipping through the documents he’d stolen. John wasn’t naive enough to think these were the only copies Unidac had, but it might help to have as few in circulation as possible.

As his eyes scanned the text, they widened. “Oh, no, no, no.”

The door to the base opened above him, and two sets of boots descended. “I’ll tell you after we get you over to see Walter,” Laurel was saying. She’d started pulling her mask off and Oliver had his hood down.

“Does it still let me call you Pretty Bird?”

“Shut up.”

“Hate to interrupt, but we got a problem,” John said, turning to face the pair with the file in his hands.

Oliver and Laurel exchanged a look, the easy humor leaving their expressions and postures. Oliver stepped forward. “Did you destroy the device?”

“Yeah, the one that was there. But this file I grabbed says it was one in a set.”

He watched both of them pale. “How many more?” Laurel asked.

“One, according to this.”

“My mother’s files—”

“Must not have been updated or Merlyn was keeping the second one on a needs-to-know basis, and she wasn’t needs-to-know. Oliver, it doesn’t say where the second one is.”

He watched his friend grit his teeth, his hand clenching around his bow. Laurel reached out and took his free hand.

“Ollie, we still have time. We can find it.”

“Merlyn will know about Unidac once the news covers it, if not before. It’ll be a race against the clock, for him and us.”

Oliver’s phone buzzed on the table where he’d laid it. John leaned over for a look. “It’s Thea.”

“You have to put in an appearance at the hospital,” Laurel reminded him. “I can stay with John. I probably should—”

“I’d prefer you with me,” Oliver admitted, then clamped his lips together as if he could take it back. It was clear he was rattled and feeling vulnerable, which he hated being.

“Then I can do that,” Laurel assured him, not even missing a beat. “Let’s get changed.”

She headed for the back of the base and Oliver followed. John set the file back down, taking out each individual page to spread out on the table.

Device 1 of 2, pickup by client, was the original line that had caught his eye. Beneath it was written Device 2 of 2, assembly on site. But where was that site?

He looked up when the two returned in civilian wear.

“I’m gonna keep studying this thing, see if there’s any clues that might indicate where a second one could be stored.”

Oliver nodded on his way out. “Send photos of the file to Felicity to get a second pair of eyes.”

“Right. Hey, is that family alright?” He remembered at the last second.

Laurel threw a smile over her shoulder. “Fine, thanks to Wildcat.”

John nodded. It figured that of all the gym trainers Laurel could have picked, she stumbled on the one with a vigilante past. Made him wonder what her — and Oliver’s, apparently — connection was to this questions guy as well.

None of those things were his priority at the moment. They had a ticking clock that in only a short time could become very literal.

—-

Laurel hung onto Oliver as he navigated their way through the streets on his bike. Not only was it for her own safety; she liked to think of it as the hug he didn’t feel he could ask for right now.

In a few minutes, they would be face-to-face with Mrs. Queen, where she could see plain as day just how little Laurel had followed her request. Laurel wasn’t sure what she thought about the Queen matriarch anymore. Yes, Malcolm Merlyn was a dangerous man who had proven himself capable of following through on his threats — the Gambit was only one example — but to know the older woman was perfectly aware of his plan for the Glades and was doing nothing about it, to know that she had somehow made peace with the idea of all those people perishing...it was unthinkable to her. She could only imagine the turmoil Oliver had to be in over it.

They parked and followed Thea’s directions to the room Walter was resting in. The rest of Oliver’s family was already inside, and Mrs. Queen’s smile froze as she caught sight of Laurel.

“Oh.”

“Mr. Steele,” Laurel greeted instead, knowing now was not the time. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Thank you, Miss Lance.” He was thinner than she’d last seen him all those months ago at the Queen’s Christmas party, but fortunately looked otherwise unharmed in the physical sense. “I’m very glad to be among familiar faces again.”

Oliver reached out to clasp Walter’s shoulder briefly, choosing to speak with his actions rather than his voice. It was probably for the best.

A soft tapping on the doorway distracted all of them. Felicity Smoak stood there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt a family thing,” she immediately excused.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Mrs. Queen asked.

“A friend,” answered Walter.

Felicity smiled and stepped up to set the flowers down. “I just wanted to welcome you back, Mr. Steele. But I should get going, because of, um, work I need to be doing.” Her gaze darted to both Laurel and Oliver before she made a swift exit. Laurel gave her the slightest nod as she went.

“So, Ollie and Laurel started dating again,” Thea said to break the tense silence that ensued.

“Well, congratulations to both of you,” Walter said.

Laurel managed a smile. “Thank you. It’s been...interesting.”

Oliver raised both eyebrows at her. She raised them right back.

“Right, well. We should probably let you rest, Walter,” Oliver said at last. She could tell by the line of his body he was incredibly uncomfortable in the cramped space trying to maintain all the lies in front of his family. Laurel slipped her hand into his and followed him to the door.

They nearly crashed into Malcolm Merlyn on the way out. Laurel couldn’t quite stop the slight jump at his presence.

“I’m sorry,” Merlyn said with perfect politeness. “I just heard the news. Walter, so wonderful to have you back safely.”

Laurel felt the grip Oliver had on her hand tighten to an almost painful degree. She squeezed it back, knowing exactly how angry he had to be right now as she felt rather the same.

“Thank you, Malcolm.”

“I truly hate to interrupt, but I hoped to borrow Moira for a few moments,” Merlyn continued. Now even Thea frowned. “I’ll be sure to return her as quickly as possible.”

Mrs. Queen stepped away from Walter’s bedside. “I would hope so.” Laurel had to move back against the door as she passed. Up close, she could make out the same lines of tension in the mother that were present in her son.

Oliver led her out into the hallway, watching Malcolm and Mrs. Queen disappear around the bend in the hallway. “He won’t do anything to her,” he muttered, and Laurel knew the assurance was for his own sake as much as hers.

“Of course not. It’s too obvious. Either he wants to know if Walter said anything incriminating them or it’s about Unidac.”

Oliver let out a sigh but almost immediately stiffened; a different Merlyn was making his way down the hall towards them.

“Hey, I saw on the news. Walter’s back?” Tommy was facing Oliver straight-on but his eyes kept darting to her. Looking for information.

“Yeah,” Oliver replied, his eyes closing for a moment. She wondered if he, too, was blaming himself for this; the three of them had done everything together. Was Tommy following them into this life because of that? “And we need to talk.”

Laurel tensed. Since Oliver had guessed the truth, she had been hoping this confrontation would be much more private. It took them a few minutes to find a secluded corner of the hospital.

“Tommy, what are you doing?”

Their friend blinked, then gave a disbelieving laugh. “Really, you’re gonna give me the lecture?” He turned a betrayed look on her.

Laurel raised both hands. “He guessed.”

“You didn’t have to tell him he was right!”

“Keep your voices down,” Oliver instructed, his voice turning sharp. “Your father and my mother are in this building, Tommy, and if they find out what you’ve done—”

“So you got it decrypted. What’s my father’s plan?”

“We can’t discuss that here,” Laurel stated. “It’s too sensitive, and you’re going to want somewhere private to yell.”

He eyed her warily. “It’s that bad?”

“Worse.” She was sure, as much as Tommy had disliked his father for as long as she’d known him, even he wouldn’t be able to imagine what Mr. Merlyn had planned.

“So when can we talk?”

Oliver shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about. We’re handling it.”

Tommy scowled. “You wouldn’t even have the information you do if I hadn’t gotten it. It was sitting in your house the whole time, Ollie, but I was the one who risked my butt getting it for you, so I think I have a right to it.”

“We have a lot going on right now.” She could see Oliver’s frostiness for the shield it was. Part of it had to be the hurt he still felt at Tommy’s initial reaction to his secret identity; the other part, she suspected, was him trying to push his best friend away to keep him out of it.

“Like what?”

“Like the Russian mob,” Laurel admitted freely. This was her problem, after all. “They wanted to use me to help one of their associates. I didn’t do what they asked, so now it’s just a matter of time.”

Tommy swallowed. “They’re going to come after you?”

She nodded.

He looked between her and Oliver again. “You’re going to need help.”

Oliver glowered at him. “Tommy, you’re not a vigilante by your own admission.”

“Well I’m your — I’m something, alright!”

Laurel stepped between the two of them before they could really get started again. “Look, Tommy’s right in a way. If the Bratva is sending their own after us, we need all the help we can get. But not from you,” she added to her friend. “You’re untrained, like I said before.”

“Alright, I get the message,” he grumbled a bit, embarrassed. “Got a recommendation for me?”

“Diggle.”

They both blinked in surprise at Oliver.

“Your sudden interest in physical training would raise eyebrows if you did it in public. Digg can get you started on the basics...if you really want some part in this.”

The two friends stared each other down for a time. “Look, I’m still not sold on this whole vigilante thing. It’s not — it shouldn’t be necessary. But, your mom said whatever dad’s doing is for my mother,” he confided in them. Laurel started in surprise. How would destroying an entire neighborhood be in the name of a humanitarian like Rebecca Merlyn? “After he tried to shut down her clinic, I don’t trust him with her legacy. I have to stop him. And you have to stop him for your dad,” he said to Oliver, who nodded. “So then, after that, we’re done, right?”

There was a terrible silence. Laurel looked to Oliver and found the same uncertainty.

Tommy hung his head. “We’re not done.”

“You can be,” she told him gently.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem of being a friend to somebody,” he told her. “Makes it hard to sit at home when you know they’re out there risking their lives like a pair of lunatics.”

Laurel couldn’t help a light laugh. Even Oliver wore the hint of a smile though his eyes remained on the ground.

“If I can’t help you with the Bratva, then what kind of help are you going to get?”

“Laurel has a teacher,” Oliver said.

Laurel meanwhile, bit her lip. “This isn’t going to help my ‘lunatic’ image, but I think we need more help than that.”

Both men looked at her.

“We need someone who’s dealt with the mob.”

Tommy stared at her blankly while Oliver gave a vehement shake of the head. “No.”

“Got any better ideas?” She challenged.

“Wait, who are we — oh no,” said Tommy.

“Well?”

Neither of them had a reply. She hadn’t thought so.

—-

Malcolm waited until he was alone before dropping his genial smile. “We have a serious problem, Moira.”

“I have no idea how any of this happened,” she denied immediately. To both his frustration and relief, he could tell she wasn’t lying; Walter’s rescue was just as much a surprise to her as it had been to him.

Still, the timing couldn’t be ignored. “We have a leak of some sort. Our Undertaking is under attack. I received a call from Unidac an hour ago. An unknown assailant broke into the facility.”

Again, only genuine shock registered on Moira's features. “Did they find it?”

“They destroyed it. That room, and nothing else.”

“They knew what they were there for,” she realized without further prompting.

He nodded. “I had our associate take the liberty of cleaning up any loose ends. The police won’t know what was supposed to have happened there.”

He was standing close enough to her that he almost felt her shudder. Malcolm smirked to himself; hardened as Moira had become over the years, she still reacted badly to the mention of violence. It was the edge he held over her.

“Does this mean our Undertaking is at an end?” There was a note in her voice, almost of hope.

“Not in the least. I had the foresight to commission a second device for our purposes,” he told her, enjoying the way her eyes went wide. “Always best to plan in redundancies in a business venture. Minimizes risk.”

“Of course.” He had to hand it to her, Moira always recovered well. “Then we move forward?”

“Naturally. It’s location will have to be moved to the central-most part of the tunnels to ensure the maximum damage to the Glades itself. The argument will have to be made to seize whatever is left of the neighborhood for the rebuilding.” It was not his ideal plan that he had been building towards the last five years but he was too impatient to commission new scientists to build a second device. So it would have to be a combination of hard and soft power that put the Glades into his hands.

“Very well. If that is all?” Moira already made to move past him, but he took her arm.

“One last thing. Should this second device be discovered, Moira, I will know you have betrayed me. And it won’t be a hostage our associate takes next time.”

He could tell by the tremble in her lips that she understood perfectly.

“Enjoy tonight with you family,” he said last, slipping through mask of respected businessman Malcolm Merlyn back on as smoothly as a glove. He stepped away from her and turned, leaving the hospital.

It had not been the Hood who had attacked Unidac. He was unsure if this was good fortune or not. A new player meant unquantifiable variables.

These challenges were a test of his conviction, he was sure. To determine that he was worthy. He would surmount them all, then enjoy the fruits of his labor made all the sweeter with every additional obstacle overcome.

[sliceannarbor]

Manjula Martin

Author/Editor Managing Editor, Zoetrope: All Story San Francisco, California all-story.com manjulamartin.com

Photo by Ted Weinstein

Manjula is our 10th subject in a new SLICE Special Guest Series, which introduces our readers to extraordinary, creative people – wherever we may find them.

______________________________________________________

Manjula Martin serves as managing editor of Zoetrope: All-Story, a quarterly art and literary publication published by Francis Ford Coppola. In this role, she manages production, circulation, and design as one of only two staff members. Manjula is the editor of the anthology Scratch: Writers, Money, and the Art of Making a Living (Simon & Schuster, January 2017), and the founder of Who Pays Writers?, a crowdsourced list of freelance writing rates. She was previously the co-founder of Scratch magazine, an online journal about writers and money. Manjula’s writing has appeared in the Virginia Quarterly Review, Pacific Standard, Aeon, Hazlitt, The Millions, and The Billfold, and she wrote The Dough, a series about creative professionals and money, for The Toast. Her experience as a writer and editor includes work in magazine and book publishing, copywriting, and communications work with nonprofit, educational, and activist organizations. Manjula earned a bachelor’s degree from Mills College as an adult re-entry student. When she’s not working, you can find her listening to records, writing letters, cooking, or being generally introverted. Manjula lives with her partner in the Mission District of San Francisco. 

FAVORITES

Book:  Ha, sorry, no way. It is physically and spiritually impossible for me to name one favorite book. However, I can tell you what I’m reading right now: Zadie Smith’s Swing Time and Christopher Isherwood’s Berlin Stories.

Destination:  Where the redwoods meet the ocean.

Film:  One of my many favorite films is Billy Wilder’s The Apartment (1960). Also, pretty much anything involving Bogart, Bacall, Astaire, Rogers, Hepburn, Grant, and Hitchcock.

Motto: Your heart is a muscle the size of your fist; keep loving, keep fighting.

THE QUERY

Where were you born?

I was born in a trailer in the Santa Cruz mountains, in California. My dad delivered me.

What were some of the passions and pastimes of your earlier years?

I read a lot, and re-read a lot. I was also very passionate about theater and dance, as well as costume design. And I watched a lot of classic films. When I think back now, I recall a lot of very pleasant moments spent in solitude as a child, spending time in these fictional worlds and feeling very enchanted by them.

How did you begin to realize your intrigue with the craft of writing?

All my parents are very avid readers and writers. My dad taught me to love poetry; my stepmom taught me to read novels voraciously. And for most of my childhood mom taught writing at the local university. From a young age I helped her correct grammatical errors on her students’ papers. And my childhood interest in theater manifested as an obsession with Shakespeare and Greek myths, which are pretty natural jumping-off points for an interest in literature.

Why does this form of artistic expression suit you?

It’s much easier than painting.

How did you get your start in the business of writing?

I’ve had a pretty varied career as a writer and editor. I always wrote – letters, zines, stories – but started working in publishing at the age of 20 when I dropped out of college and moved to New York. I worked at a magazine, as the receptionist, and then eventually became an assistant editor and wrote and reported stories. I’ve worked variously as a copywriter, an editor, and a journalist, on staff and freelance.

All of that led me to start Who Pays Writers in 2012. From there I started Scratch, an online journal, which closed after a couple years but inspired my new book, also called Scratch, which is an anthology of essays and interviews with writers about making a living. At the time I sold the book, I was working as a freelance copywriter.

During the process of bringing Scratch to publication, I took a full-time job as managing editor at Zoetrope: All-Story, where I now work. So I’ve had a lot of different sides of the “business” part of writing, including the parts where there’s no money or the parts where you’re trying to balance creative writing with “day job” writing.

What led to your coming on board with Zoetrope: All Story in 2016?

I had been an unpaid intern at the magazine many years ago, and the editor and I stayed in touch.

How would you describe the guiding philosophy/mission of the publication?

All-Story is a quarterly, print-only magazine of art and short fiction published by Francis Ford Coppola. Francis believes that short fiction and film are two art forms that are most akin, as both are consumed by the audience in a single sitting. We publish original short fiction and reprints of classic stories that were made into films. For each edition of the magazine we invite a prominent artist—visual artists, designers, filmmakers, musicians, architects— to serve as guest designer and contribute art to the edition and direct its overall aesthetic. We’ve won three National Magazine Awards for fiction, as well as numerous design accolades.  

Do you have a process for selecting the authors you’ll feature?

Quality is our foremost standard. We accept unsolicited submissions (snail-mail only) as well as solicited submissions from literary agents and authors. The way we choose stories for each issue is an organic mix of quality, taste, fit within the particular issue, and je ne sais quoi.

How do you go about selecting the art/visuals for each issue?

My colleague, Michael Ray, and I think of the most exciting artists working in any genre, and then we ask them! Our long list of previous guest designers — including folks like Tom Waits, William Eggleston, John Baldessari, Agnes Varda, Michael Stipe, Kara Walker, Marjane Satrapi, Guillermo del Toro, Chip Kidd, Gus Van Sant, David Bowie, Lou Reed, PJ Harvey, Barry McGee, Mary Ellen Mark— serves as our calling card. I spend a lot of time emailing people’s assistants!

Which author/poet/other have you most enjoyed working with, and why?

Well, I’ve only been at the magazine for a year thus far, so I can’t really speak to “favorites.” But I am a huge fan of Elizabeth McCracken’s work, and we have a tremendous new story by her in the Winter 2016/17 issue.

As far as the design process goes, which is my domain as managing editor, I most enjoy the moment when the guest designer realizes we really mean it when we say they have complete creative freedom and control (within the realm of our budget and physics, of course). A lot of our contributors are very successful, but they are often limited by various constraints in their work, and the idea of complete creative freedom in a 2D visual medium can often re-ignite a certain type of enthusiasm in our artists.

How would you describe your creative process as you begin a project?

The creative process with Scratch was a bit unique, because it’s an anthology. I’m in it as a writer but I also edited it, which involved a lot of so-called “non-creative” work – assigning and editing essays, conducting interviews, curating the order and content of the book, and corresponding with thirty different contributors over the course of a couple years. But I think at its heart the creative process behind it is the same as when I’m working on my novel or writing a personal essay – there’s a delicate balance between form and function, between language and meaning, and it’s the job of the writer – and the editor – to find that balance and hone it until it’s uniquely sharp.

For me, beginnings come easy. It’s what comes after the beginning that’s most difficult, but also most rewarding.

Is there a project/period along the way that has presented an important learning curve?

Everything about Scratch has been a learning curve. It’s a lesson in saying “sure,” and seeing what evolves, but also in learning my own boundaries in terms of bandwidth and resources. I took this project from a flippant idea to a tumblr to a digital magazine to a book, and along the way I’ve learned not only the process of making all those things, but the importance of making what you want to and can make, not just what other people say you should be making or wish you would make.

How has your aesthetic/approach evolved over the years?

I’ve actually always had a pretty firm aesthetic. I’ve always known what I like, even if it didn’t follow any clear external logic. I’m a perfectionist, but I’m also a pragmatist. That comes through in my writing, my editing work, and in things like my style and my sense of décor. In terms of my writing work, my approach has always been dictated by time – work versus work, writing versus writing for work, etc. 

What themes/topics interest you most?

I do a lot of different kinds of writing and editing but I would say a commonality in most of my work is that I’m deeply curious about the relationship between people, culture, and place. I also revel in work that complicates questions rather than simplifies them – I think the most interesting writing doesn’t have, or find, easy answers. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to the topic of writers and money. It’s complicated!

Do you have an artistic resource that you turn to?

Poetry.

Is there an author living today that you admire most?

I have always admired Rebecca Solnit��s career. Rebecca writes about whatever she wants to write about—Eadweard Muybridge, or the art of walking, or activism in post-Katrina New Orleans, for example. The connective thread of her career is her curiosity, illuminated via a skillful blend of memoir and research. Rebecca’s career is, essentially, herself. And I think that is a career to aspire to.

In the realm of fiction, with the Neopolitan novels Elena Ferrante has written an epic masterpiece that’s also a master class in balancing the minute personal and the larger political lives of humans. She’s the real deal.

What is it about the craft of writing that keeps you interested and intrigued?

Writing is communication at its most beautiful.

Do you have a favorite fictional character?

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about Madame Defarge in Tale of Two Cities. I wouldn’t say she’s a favorite, but she’s fascinating and relevant right about now.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?

No one will save you, and you’re going to be all right.

From where do you draw inspiration?

From life.

What three things can’t you live without?

As the Magnetic Fields once sang, “Love, music, wine, and revolution.” Oh wait, that’s four.  

Is there a book or film that has changed you?

I actually don’t think books and films change people, per se. I think they make us more aware of our true selves, or give us a greater understanding of who we are and our places in the world. That understanding, in turn, can change lives. That said, I did get a pixie haircut and move to Paris at age 19 because I was really, really into Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless.

Do you have any advice for aspiring authors?

My advice is: Don’t pay too much attention to advice for aspiring authors. I mean, it can be great to hear what works and doesn’t work for other writers, and obviously I’m a big fan of sharing information, otherwise I wouldn’t have made Scratch and Who Pays Writers. But ultimately no one else will have the career you have, or do the work you do. So stop wasting time reading advice and just go to work.