#i suppose... probably should start adding that to these posts again so i can keep track of them

[mikkolas]

their packbond rituals intrigue me. they act like they got married in vegas while fucking plastered and just refuse to get it annulled

[valeelavvale]

The bet

featuring : Fernando Alonso / female reader

summary: In Montreal for a Hugo Boss event, Lily and Fernando pick up their usual teasing game, but this time, something shifts. Between jokes, challenges, and unspoken glances, one bet leads to dinner, and dinner might just lead to something more.

genre : Basically Fernando being Fernando, but with a mustache.

word count : 968

Lily was sitting at a small table, writing a press release to present that evening’s event. They were in Montreal, and Hugo Boss had organized a high-profile launch that Fernando and Lance were supposed to attend.

They had already filmed a promo video, and now all that was missing was the caption for the Instagram post to introduce the initiative to the fans.

She was so focused that she barely noticed someone sitting down in the chair across from her, but then caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye and recognized him immediately.

“I’m busy… and if you’ve come again to beg me to fake an illness so you can skip tonight’s event, the answer is still: no,” she said.

“Despot,” Fernando replied with a grin. She glanced away from her screen to look at him.

“Oh shit, you actually did it,” she said, bursting out laughing.

“I lost the bet, didn’t I?” he said, amused, as she kept laughing uncontrollably.

“You really got the mustache, Fer?” she asked, laughing. “I didn’t think… I mean, we were clearly drunk when we made that bet, I’m impressed.”

“There were like twenty witnesses, how could I back out?” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You haven’t told me how I look.”

“Because I still don’t know,” she replied. “You… you look like you walked out of an ’80s TV show.”

“I’ve also been told I look like a ’70s porn star…” he joked, making her laugh even harder.

“I don’t know… I need time to get used to it…” Lily said. “How long do you have to keep it, according to our bet? Two weeks?” she asked, smiling.

“Two weeks, longer if I get used to it,” he said.

“Sorry, and what does Jen think about it?” Lily asked, amused.

“I’m not sure Jen thinks,” he replied absentmindedly.

“Oooh, asshole…” the woman laughed. “You’re such an asshole, Alonso, but… I think you’re right. Why isn’t Miss Long Legs here?” she asked teasingly.

“Because I didn’t feel like it. And don’t call me an asshole,” he replied, pointing at her warningly.

“Spoiler alert, you are,” she whispered sarcastically. “But I find her unbearable anyway,” she added in a low voice, making him laugh.

“So I should let Hugo Boss know you’ll be attending tonight… like this?” she asked, referring to his new look.

“If I shave and break the deal, you’ll ruin my life for the rest of the season…” he remarked.

“Me?? I’m an angel,” she protested, while he looked at her, clearly skeptical.

“I don’t feel like going tonight. I’m too old,” he said.

“Alonso, the ‘I’m too old’ excuse doesn’t work with me. We’re the same age. Maybe it works on Miss Long Legs when you’re too tired at night…” she said playfully.

“Trust me, I’m never too tired for that,” he smiled with an adorably smug grin.

“Who knows…” she said, doubtful, then started laughing. “Let’s do this: we go, you smile for a bit, sign a few autographs, and then halfway through, we escape and you take me out to dinner,” she suggested. “Let’s leave Lance to his fate.”

“Sounds like a fantastic plan, boss,” he agreed.

“You know… I think I might not hate the mustache after all,” she said, staring at him. “You look… more mature,” she laughed.

“You mean older?” Fernando said suspiciously.

“We’re not old,” she interrupted. “You and I, we’re not old, we’re youthfully challenged, and anyway, we still keep up with all the crap those twenty-somethings throw around.”

“I’d say we do worse,” he said, barely holding a straight face.

“I don’t count skydiving or the Barcelona shot contest that made you lose that bet as worse,” Lily said, looking at him.

She would have denied it until the end of time, but her back-and-forth with Fernando was probably the best part of her race weekends. Mustache or not, the man in front of her was stunning, and there was no point denying it.

“You’re staring at me,” he said, lowering his sunglasses.

“I was thinking about the mustache…” she replied, “…you’re sexy, Alonso…” she said plainly.

“Honored… you’re not one to hand out compliments easily,” he smiled.

“Neither are you…”

“I told you that dress in Barcelona made your ass look incredible…” the driver justified, raising his hands.

“Yeah, that’s true, you did say that… maybe you even added something else… But Miss Long Legs was next to you, and she ruined the moment…” Lily said, resting her chin on her hand and looking at him.

“Well, she’s not here this weekend,” Fernando stated simply.

“I think I have a dress that makes my ass look even better, now that I think about it,” she agreed with a smile.

“I suggest wearing it to dinner tonight…” he said.

“And then?” she asked softly.

“And then I don’t think I can keep explaining the rest of the evening’s plans out loud,” he said, lowering his voice too.

“Arrogant… you think you already know how it’s going to end?” she asked.

“No, but I hope so…” he said seriously. “And maybe I have a shot since I’ve been staring at your cleavage since I sat down and I think you noticed…” he added.

“I noticed, and I didn’t do anything to stop you,” she agreed, holding his gaze with ease. “We’ve been dancing around this for a while now…”

“A bit too long, if you ask me…” he commented.

“You thought I’d fall at your feet immediately?” she laughed.

“I wouldn’t have liked it if you had. This…” he said, pointing at her and then himself, “…this I like a lot more,” he admitted.

“Then I’ll see you tonight. Bring the mustache,” she said, standing up.

“And you, that dress you mentioned,” Fernando replied, watching her walk away.

[thepseudowoodo]

I am almost ready to get this up on AO3 and then start posting there concurrently with here. Won't that be something special.

Title: Measured With Blood

Rating: M for themes of canon-typical violence and sexual content

Summary: Hans reflects on his relationship with Henry and how it is viewed by the people around them.

Part 1 | Part 2 Part 3: Musa

The man Musa had, surprisingly, decided to stay with the pack when they moved from Suchdol back to the Devil’s Den. It was temporary, he assured them, as he made plans and arrangements to resume his travels through Bohemia. Hans sat with him at one of the tables inside, helping the man to gently dry the leather covers of the books they had been looking at together. They were laughing at being chased inside by a sudden rain shower when Henry joined them. 

“What’s all this then?” He asked, flopping down next to Hans so their arms brushed together, despite the table being otherwise entirely unoccupied. 

“Lord Capon and I were reading together when the rain began,” Musa chuckled, setting aside the last book with a sigh. “It was a bit of a rush to gather our things and bring them inside.”

Henry glanced out the front door as one of the alemaids darted in as well, and he whistled at the downpour. “Did you get everything in?”

“Aye, everything except our drinks,” Hans sighed. “Alas, the last of my good wine, all gone to water.”

Musa snorted. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around for Christians?”

The trio laughed, and Henry stood again with a sigh. “Well, rain or not, I have some work to do at the forge.”

“Ah, yes. The sword for your brother,” Musa said. “Have you started it yet?”

Henry nodded. “Aye, I’ve got the blade shaped, I think. I need to check it and get it looking nice now. Should be able to quench tomorrow. Maybe tonight if Tomas doesn’t need the forge.”

“It sounds like a lot of work. Do not let us keep you, friend.”

Henry dropped his hand onto Hans’ shoulder briefly, and Hans felt the warmth of it radiating through his entire body. They waved goodbye as he set off for the inner yard door, and Hans struggled not to let his gaze linger too long on the retreating form. 

“I didn’t know he was forging a blade,” he said. He was proud at how casual he sounded. 

“Yes, for Samuel. He lost his when the Frenchman took him captive.”

Hans hummed, reaching for the book he had been leafing through before their retreat. “A thoughtful gift.”

“I don’t know their situation well, but Henry seems to think it will have some special meaning, if he forges the blade himself. Beyond the normal gratitude for work well done, that is,” Musa added, leaning his chin in one hand with his elbow on the table. 

“Henry’s adoptive father is Samuel’s blood father,” Hans said with a shrug, “though Samuel never knew him. Martin - that was his name - is the one who taught Henry everything he knows about smithing. A sword he forges is the closest Samuel will probably ever get to having something made by his father.”

“Truly?” Musa seemed surprised. “He never mentioned any of that, simply said he wanted Sam to have something well-made.”

With a sigh, Hans closed the book again, knowing now that the two of them were well out of their studies now. “I think it bothers Henry, that Samuel never got to know his father. He wants to share what he can with him.”

Musa’s teeth flashed intimidatingly white against his dark face when he grinned. “You know your man well,” he said, eyes slanting in a tease. 

“We’ve been living out of each other’s pockets for weeks now,” Hans spluttered, feeling a flush bloom on his cheeks. The way Musa had said your man had sounded a particular sort of way, even accounting for his heavily accented Czech. “And even before everything went all to shit, I’d like to think we were-”

“Were…?” The other man prompted when it became clear that Hans wasn’t going to finish the thought. 

“Were… I’d like to think we were… friendly.”

“Friendly.” Hans couldn’t identify the tone, but he was sure skepticism was part of it. 

“Yes, friendly.”

“Just friendly? Not… friends?”

“I-” Hans froze like a deer spotting a hunter, and it took several seconds for him to recover himself. “He was- is my closest friend. Even then. But I wouldn’t dare to speak for his feelings at the time. I’m afraid I was quite the abominable prick not so long ago.”

Musa laughed uproariously. “You are of a pair, you and Henry,” he said through his laughter. “I am glad he has you.”

Hans didn’t really know what that meant, and he said so. Musa just grinned at him again. “Henry told me something similar one day when we were stuck in that fortress. He claims you are his best friend, and although he hated you dearly at first it did not last long.”

“Yes, well, the feeling is mutual then. My guardian gave him to me as a page to spite us both.” 

The black man’s eyebrows rose. “He said it was not duty to serve you.”

The memories of all the times Henry had reassured Hans of the same thing brought heat to his rain-cooled skin. “He claims that now, but when he first joined my service, it was against both our desires.”

“And yet, such an unhappy beginning has come to such a pleasant ending. It makes me glad,” Musa replied, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “Henry has rapidly become a treasured friend of mine, and I am relieved that he has someone so dear to him at his side. You must take care of that man, he is truly a rare creature.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Hans replied, glowing with pride at this praise for Henry. “He’s saved my life more times than I can count.”

“His heart is good and strong. I am a coward, and proud of it, But I have watched him leap feet-first into everything he does. And somehow, he always manages to land.” 

And again, though none of the praise was directed at him, Hans felt his chest swelling with pride. It was true, everything Musa said. Henry’s heart was golden, with a core of steel. Beautiful and shining, and strong to its very depths. Hans felt honored to have watched that heart rise from the despair Henry had gone through, to have it directed towards him, sharing Henry’s light with him. “Watching him is like staring at the sun, sometimes,” Hans said finally, fiddling with the cover of the book in front of him. “Or it feels that way, sometimes. Henry is like the sun, and everyone around him is just a moon, a mirror reflecting the light he produces.”

Musa nodded slowly. “Except that he shines brightest next to you.”

Hans blinked. “What?”

“You two are like mirrors, reflecting the bond between you. And a light caught by not one, but two mirrors?” Musa smiled with his entire face, an expression that Hans found charming in the extreme due in no small part to the dearth of people who ever showed him expressions like it. “That light shines much, much farther than it would on its own.”

Hans chuckled. “Yes, well. I suppose it comes from always trying to best each other.”

“I think it comes from trying to be the best for each other. A bond so pure and strong is rare these days, and it pleases me to know that there are still men who can find such strength in each other. Like the minstrel stories, yes? It is very… What is the word I want… knightly! It is a very knightly brotherhood.”

“Knightly! Yes, of course,” Hans’ tried to laugh over his sudden nerves. How had this man struck so immediately upon the heart of his feelings? So near the truth, just barely missing it. He felt the sudden urge to change the subject, unsure of where the conversation might go if it continued the way it was. “But- but surely you’ve seen friendships like ours before? You’ve traveled so far! Tell me some of the stories of where you’ve been.”

“Ahhh, my friend. Let me tell you of the Sultan’s palace…”

[end part 3]

[kjack89]

Dial Drunk

5 times Enjolras bailed Grantaire out of jail, and one time, well...

The door of the holding cell clanked open and as one, the nine men sitting inside glanced up. “Alright,” the booking officer said in a bored tone, glancing down at his clipboard. “Bail’s been posted for arrestees Bahorel, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, Feuilly, Joly, Lesgle and Prouvaire. You’re free to leave after you sign out at the front desk.”

There were a few grumbles as the men started to get to their feet, but Enjolras remained resolutely seated, his brow furrowed with a frown. “What about Grantaire?”

The man in question chuckled darkly, tilting his head back to rest it against the wall of the holding cell. “Is that actual concern for me that I hear, Apollo? I could die happy.”

Enjolras ignored him. “Pontmercy was supposed to post bail for all of us,” he said instead, aiming his words at Courfeyrac as if the man was somehow still responsible for the actions of his former roommate some five years after they had stopped living together.

Courfeyrac just shrugged. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I mean, we all know Marius is a bit of an idiot, maybe he miscounted.”

Combeferre shook his head. “I’m probably wrong and should defer to the lawyers amongst us but I thought I remembered reading something in one of the articles about reforming pre-trial detention that an individual can only post bail for 8 detainees at a time.”

“And so I must’ve drawn the short straw,” Grantaire sighed. “Story of my fucking life.”

Bossuet clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder. “On the other hand, you could take it as a compliment that Marius thinks you’re the one most likely to survive an extended stay behind bars.”

Bahorel snorted so loudly the bars of the cell almost rattled. “Sorry but literally not a single one of us would survive an extended stay behind bars.”

“Speak for yourself,” Feuilly said. “I know how to whittle.” At the blank looks he received, he huffed a sigh and added, “So I can make a shank. No wonder none of you would survive in jail.”

“This is making our goal of prison abolition seem oddly self-serving,” Joly murmured in an undertone to Jehan, who stifled a laugh.

Combeferre cleared his throat. “Not that I’m not sympathetic to Grantaire having to be stuck in here, but I’d just like to remind everyone that since Marius posted bail, we’re technically now here voluntarily.”

“Yeah so GTFO,” Grantaire said with a grimace masquerading as a smile. “Let me rot in peace, etcetera.”

Enjolras looked like he wanted to argue more, but Combeferre muttered something in his ear and he made a face before filing out of the cell. “Serious miscalculation on Marius’s part with this one,” Courfeyrac said brightly as he followed everyone else out. “Because God knows you’re going to complain about this for the rest of all time.”

Grantaire gave him the finger and Courfeyrac winked as the officer closed the cell door behind him.

Sighing again, Grantaire sat upright, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck before settling back against the bench. “You need anything?” the booking officer asked.

Grantaire shook his head. “Nah,” he said dismissively. “Not my first rodeo. Hopefully I won’t be stuck overnight, but I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Oh, yeah?” the officer said with mild interest.

Grantaire nodded. “Central booking at the 16th Precinct is a piece of shit,” he said brightly.

The officer barked a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave Grantaire a long look. “Should I ask what you were picked up for previously?”

Considering the answer to that question was a vast litany of misdemeanors (and felonies reduced to misdemeanors) that the boys in blue tended not to appreciate, Grantaire hesitated. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer at all by the crackle of the officer’s walkie-talkie. “Just a moment,” the officer told him, heading out of the booking area and Grantaire let out a sigh of relief as he slumped on the bench.

“You’re free to go,” the officer said upon returning, and Grantaire looked up, surprised.

“Really?”

The officer nodded, opening the door to the holding cell. “Bail was posted. So I guess you’ll have to save your rap sheet for the next time you’re in here.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “I’d say there won’t be a next time, but…” 

He ducked out before the officer could respond to that, making his way to the front desk, stopping in his tracks when he saw Enjolras leaning against the desk, clearly waiting for him. “What’re you doing here?”

Enjolras straightened. “It didn’t feel right leaving you in there,” he said with a shrug that didn’t quite come across as nonchalant as he’d probably intended. “And I happened to have some cash on me, so…”

“Between this and being worried about my welfare, you’re gonna give me the wrong impression,” Grantaire said.

“Guess that depends on what impression you’re getting,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire’s eyes flickered to his and away again, feeling suddenly tongue-tied. Enjolras cleared his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Anyway, we should get to the Musain to debrief.” He glanced at Grantaire. “Unless you’ve got something better to do.”

Grantaire just shook his head, and gestured for Enjolras to lead the way. “After you,” he said, his voice low, and together they walked out of the precinct, their arms just brushing against each other as they headed to meet their friends at the Musain.

— — — — —

“Jesus Christ,” Enjolras muttered as the booking officer removed the handcuffs from a sheepish-looking Grantaire. Well, as sheepish as a man sporting the beginnings of a pretty impressive black eye could look, anyway. “Here,” Enjolras said roughly, holding an ice pack out to Grantaire. “I posted your bail as well.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire muttered, taking the ice pack and wincing as he pressed it against his eye.

Enjolras pursed his lips as he gave him a once-over. “Any other injuries I need to worry about?” he asked.

Grantaire just shrugged. “Nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

“Because that’s reassuring,” Enjolras sighed, rubbing his forehead, but when he looked at Grantaire again, there was something almost soft in his expression. “You didn’t need to do that.”

What he could see of Grantaire’s expression tightened, just slightly. “You didn’t hear what that guy called you.”

He said it calmly, evenly, but his hand automatically balled into a fist at the memory. Enjolras reached out automatically to rest his hand on Grantaire’s fist until it relaxed. “It doesn’t matter what he called me,” he said, his voice low. “I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can,” Grantaire scoffed. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Enjolras just shook his head, running his thumb across Grantaire’s bruised knuckles, a testament to the fact that despite the black eye, he’d emerged from the fight victorious. “I should’ve brought another ice pack,” he murmured.

Grantaire just half-smiled, twisting his hand so that he could lace his fingers with Enjolras’s. “It’s fine,” he said softly. “It doesn’t really hurt at the moment anyway.”

Enjolras cleared his throat and looked away, but he didn’t try to untangle his fingers from Grantaire’s. “Well,” he said, “we should, uh, get out of here.”

“Before they realize you have about a half dozen outstanding warrants for your arrest?” Grantaire asked with a smirk, his voice quiet enough that only Enjolras could hear.

“You’d be amazed what having a multi-million dollar settlement pending against the city will do to the police’s willingness to bring you in,” Enjolras said with a smirk. “Not that I want to test that, of course.”

“Liar,” Grantaire said, grinning. “But better safe than sorry, I suppose.”

He started toward the door, pausing when Enjolras didn’t immediately follow. “Thank you, by the way,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire glanced back at him.

“Anytime,” he said simply. “Thanks for bailing me out.”

Enjolras gave him a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Just don’t go making a habit of it,” he warned. “One day I won’t be here to bail you out.”

“Only because you’ll probably be locked up with me,” Grantaire said.

“Well,” Enjolras murmured, not quite able to stop his smile, “you’re not wrong.”

— — — — —

Grantaire rested his elbows against the bars of the holding cell, his arms dangling into what was technically freedom on the other side. The booking officer, some new guy he didn’t recognize, gave him a look but didn’t say anything, which he took as a small victory, and he allowed himself a small smirk.

A smirk that faded as soon as he saw Enjolras, escorted by another officer. “No dice on bail?” Grantaire asked, seeing the look on Enjolras’s face.

Enjolras shook his head. “No, they’re going to go through the whole arraignment rigamarole. I’ve already let Pontmercy know.” He made a face, casting an irritated look at the booking officer who was pretending not to listen to their conversation. “Apparently they take battery of a police officer pretty seriously these days.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Grantaire muttered. Enjolras sighed and Grantaire gave him a look. “Don’t even start,” he warned. “This wasn’t about you not being able to take care of yourself—”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” Enjolras interrupted, his voice tight. “I’m well aware that cop would’ve bashed my head in if you hadn’t intervened.” He shook his head and sighed again. “I was going to say thank you.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said, managing a tight smile. “You’re welcome.”

Enjolras just shook his head again. “You still shouldn’t have done it,” he continued, “because honestly, I’m not worth all that—”

“You are, though,” Grantaire said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Enjolras scowled and Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Fine, then why don’t we make a deal?” he said. “I’ll stop defending you when you stop bailing me out.”

“At the rate you’re going, I won’t be able to anyway,” Enjolras said sourly. “Not without putting up some major collateral.”

Grantaire shook his head. “And I’m definitely not worth that,” he said.

Enjolras’s eyes met his. “You are, though.”

For a moment, it looked like Grantaire might argue. Instead, he reached for Enjolras’s hand, bringing it up to kiss his knuckles through the bars of the holding cell. “No touching,” the booking officer barked, and Grantaire rolled his eyes as he reluctantly let go of Enjolras’s hand. 

“Will you be at my arraignment?” he asked.

Enjolras shrugged. “Someone’s got to post whatever bail amount the judge decides,” he said.

Grantaire half-smiled. “In that case, I’ll be the one in the front.” 

“Pretty sure that’ll be the judge,” Enjolras murmured, grinning when Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise.”

“It’ll be the only thing that gets me through spending the night in here,” Grantaire told him, and it was Enjolras’s turn to roll his eyes, though there was obvious affection in the motion.

“Pretty sure Bahorel was right,” he said. “You definitely wouldn’t survive in jail.”

Grantaire just shrugged. “Only if you were in there with me.”

Enjolras shook his head, reluctantly backing away toward the door. “Still time,” he said, and Grantaire’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid while I’m locked up in here.”

Enjolras just smirked. “See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder as he left, and Grantaire sighed, though there something strangely content in the noise, despite, or maybe because of, the circumstances.

— — — — —

Grantaire didn’t meet Enjolras’s eyes as he rapped his fingers impatiently against the front desk at the precinct, waiting for them to bring him his personal effects. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Enjolras asked, his voice tight. Grantaire looked pointedly at the conspicuous clock on the wall and Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “Exactly, it’s 2 in the fucking morning. I have a 7 o’clock meeting, which you knew damn well, so why you had to go pick a bar fight with some guy twice your fucking size—”

“So sorry to be an inconvenience to you,” Grantaire drawled, slurring his words just slightly. “Can’t imagine what it must be like to have made plans that get interfered with by someone else’s priorities.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “Are we really doing this here and now?” he asked.

Grantaire just jerked a shrug, not meeting his eyes. “Do you have something better to do?”

Enjolras sighed and scrubbed a tired hand across his face. “I’m sorry that I had to cancel tonight,” he said, with as much patience as he could seemingly muster, considering the circumstances. “But I needed to get this proposal done ahead of the meeting tomorrow, and I don’t really see what the big deal—”

“You never do,” Grantaire interrupted, still not looking at him. “That’s the problem.”

“You knew going into this—”

“Just like you knew going into this that I’m a drunk and a disaster,” Grantaire interrupted, finally looking at Enjolras, his expression hard. “Well, congratulations, Apollo, it looks like we both knew what we were getting into and yet somehow, we’re both still disappointed.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “I’m not,” he said tiredly. “I’m not disappointed, Grantaire, because that would require me to actually expect better from you, and I learned my lesson on that a long time ago.”

Grantaire just grinned, a horrible, twisted grin. “Right back atcha.”

The officer returned with Grantaire’s belongings, and Grantaire grabbed his phone, wallet and keys, returning them to his pockets. Enjolras took a deep breath, but whatever he clearly wanted to say seemed to stick in his throat, and he looked away. “C’mon,” he said instead. “Let’s go home.”

Grantaire nodded once, shoving his hands in his pockets as he slumped after Enjolras, neither man touching the other.

— — — — —

“He’s not technically under arrest,” the cop told Enjolras as he led him back to the holding cell. “But that’s because we couldn’t really mirandize him when he was passed out.”

Enjolras eyed Grantaire, sprawled across the bench in the holding cell, and sighed. “So once he’s coherent, he’ll be charged with, what, drunk and disorderly?”

The officer nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced at Enjolras. “Look, it’s not my place, but, uh, maybe look into getting your friend some help?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras murmured, his expression drawn. “Maybe.” He sighed and turned. “Guess I’ll go preemtively pay his bail—”

“Apollo?” Grantaire croaked, and Enjolras sighed again.

“Give us a moment?” he asked the officer, who just shrugged.

Enjolras crossed to the bars of the holding cell, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. “Tell me,” he said, his tone clipped, “were you trying to get hit by a car by passing out in the street, or would have just been a fun little side effect of this spectacular attempt at blowing up your life?”

Grantaire groaned as he forced himself into a sitting position. “Honestly don’t remember if it was deliberate or not,” he muttered, swaying slightly as he blinked unfocusedly at Enjolras.

“There are easier ways of killing yourself,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire managed a small, sharp smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve considered those as well.”

Enjolras’s expression tightened and he looked away. “You used your one phone call for me,” he said.

Grantaire shrugged. “Didn’t know who else to call.”

“Probably anyone besides your ex.” Grantaire flinched and Enjolras sighed before telling him, as firmly as he could manage, “This is the last time. Do you understand?”

Grantaire barked a dry, humorless laugh. “If there’s one thing I can promise, Apollo, it’s that this won’t be the last time.”

“Maybe not for you,” Enjolras said. “But I’m done. So the next time you get picked up for a bar fight or public intoxication or whatever suicidal shit you decide to get yourself into next time, call someone else.”

He didn’t wait for Grantaire to answer, just turning on heel to leave him in the holding cell while he went to go pay his bail.

One last time.

— — — — —

The phone rang, and rang again, and Grantaire’s grip on the phone tightened. “Come on,” he muttered to himself. “Come on, pick up, pick up.”

But the phone just rang until the tinny, robotic voice informed him that no voicemail had been set up for this phone number, and he heaved a sigh as he hung up, a headache blooming in his temples that had absolutely nothing to the better part of a handle of whiskey that he’d worked his way through that evening. 

“Nothing?” the booking officer asked, and Grantaire ground his teeth together at the fake sympathetic tone.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’, and he scrubbed a hand across his face before heading back to the holding cell.

The booking officer trailed after him. “Do you, uh, want to try calling someone else?”

Grantaire just shook his head. “No,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest as the officer opened the door of the cell for him. “I’ll try again later. He’s probably asleep.”

The officer glanced up at the clock that showed it was barely 10pm, and he shook his head as he closed the door after Grantaire. “Your choice,” he said with a shrug.

Grantaire sighed heavily as he slumped down onto the hard metal bench, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach for an absent glass or bottle of beer, or else for a hand that used to be his to hold. His throat felt tight and he swallowed hard, tilting his head back to rest it against the wall of the holding cell.

He closed his eyes against the tears that he could feel prick in the corners of his eyes, though he honestly didn’t know if he was crying because Enjolras hadn’t picked up, or because there was a part of him that still thought that maybe, in the morning, he would. One more time.

[dangerpronebuddie]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday!!

Tagged by @spotsandsocks @tizniz who both shared MARVELOUS stuff y'all should absolutely show some love! 🩷🩵

Been a while! I'm still technically not here lol, but I'm around more than I told myself I would be. I can't help it 😅. The Make Me Write is keeping me going, so I thank y'all for that (and if you want, you can still send in emojis 😉). I've written more since posting that than in about a month. In fact, I figured out one of the best loops of the time loop fic! So here's the start:

Buck's phone buzzes and he snaps his eyes open to bright sunlight streaming in the windows of his loft. He buries his head in his pillows and screams until his lungs give out. What the fuck happened? It was supposed to fix it! He didn't hurt Eddie. Why is he still stuck here? He grabs his phone and frustrated tears prick his eyes when he sees the same text from Tommy. He’s never tried not going to the tour. His eagerness to see Tommy never let him really think before agreeing. What would happen if Buck didn’t go? Tommy and Eddie would still leave him for the fight. Of that, he’s certain. At least he wouldn’t have to stand there like an idiot while Tommy smiles at Eddie. The pang in his chest sharpens and he scrubs a hand over his eyes. Maybe he could avoid them the entire week. Maybe it’d be for the best. He’s just been getting in the way. It’s clear who Tommy wants. And it’s not Buck. Buck opens his text thread, ignoring the message he’s seen too many times, and types out a reply. Buck: Maybe some other time? Tommy: Probably for the best Guess we both have to take a rain check And, because Buck is a master at pressing into fresh bruises, he replies: Buck: Something better come along? Tommy: Yet to be seen You know Eddie best after all Buck throws his phone aside and falls back onto the bed, grabbing the nearest pillow to shove over his face and scream into again.

(tags under the cut! As always please let me know if you want to be added/ removed):

@lover-of-mine @loveyouanyway @daffi-990 @kitteneddiediaz

@ronordmann @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus

@thekristen999 @monsterrae1 @diazheartsbuckley @wildlife4life @misshiss727 @rainbow-nerdss @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@tidesreach @disasterbuck @lonelychicago @epicbuddieficrecs

@lunarspark-cos @idealuk @slowlyfoggydestiny @mourningeddiesfagstache @playinginthunderstorms @elvensorceress

@lin27 @jshadow01 @orangeboxfox92 @thegeekcompanion @emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx @maraskywalkers

@kaseysgirl86-blog @darkrose6578 @totallynotagoraphobic @dandelioncasey @bibuckbuckgoose @whatsgoodinthehood22 @mari-lwyd-cryptid-blog

@lady-elaine @buckley-diaz-rules @buddiedaydreamer911 @monroemary @pirate-hunter @snowviolettwhite @hermoineindisguise

@nonspeakingkiku @eddiedisasterdiaz @drunkandsupportiveeddie @gnoeltop @keynb @cassi-brooks @-syrup-sue @punkrock00 @shannonhutchins @aroqueerfandoms @unlifeira @marissaleec @kissyboytroye

@lyricfulloflight @charlzie-ghost @hypersensitivitywitch @kindlingtotheflames @wallywise @zerokrox-blog @hawaiianlove808 @retromodgirl @allygateobeanz @savlikesbluengreen and anyone else who wants to share!! 🥰🩷

[writesology]

in which ace gets lost on his way to class. thank the seven his dorm head is there to help him!

+ bonus drabble below the cut <3 happy valentine's to these losers

(takes place post-dorm ace vignette, but before book 2 aka right in the middle of ace's big fat crush on his oblivious dorm head)

"Shit, shit, shit, I'm gonna be late!" Ace dashes past groups of students in the hallway, magic pen gripped tightly in his hands as wind magic swirls around him. "And I don't even know where the hell I'm supposed to-"

"Ace Trappola! What do you think you're doing running in the hallways!" The first-year freezes at the familiar voice (and no, his heart didn't skip a beat) and turns around to find his dorm head glaring at him with crossed arms.

Two weeks ago, seeing Riddle would've added to his pent-up frustration, and he probably would've gotten his magic sealed (or re-sealed) by the end of their interaction. Now, they're at least on good enough terms that Ace has some hope he won't be arriving to class late and collared.

Plus, there are a few upsides to having his dorm head here at this very moment, none of which have to do with how cute he is.

"Dorm head! Sorry, but I really need your help right now," Ace says as he approaches Riddle. "My magic analysis discussion went overtime and then Trein switched his lecture hall last minute, and I was running because I have no idea where room 2408 is, and if I'm not there in five, I'm gonna be late again! Please, you wouldn't let me be late, right?"

Riddle thinks for a second, then nods. "In that case, it can't be helped. Very well, I'll take you there." Ace is just about to cheer and thank his dorm head for the directions, but then Riddle takes his hand and starts leading him down the hallway, effectively making his brain short-circuit.

Holy shit. Riddle's holding his hand.

The touch sends sparks through his fingers and up his arm, until all Ace can think about is the warmth of Riddle's hand in his and how perfectly their hands fit together and-

...he needs to think about something else. If he keeps going with this, Ace is fairly sure he'll burst into a ball of flames, never mind that fire magic is Riddle's specialty and not his, and so the first-year tears his gaze away from their hands and tries to look at the scenery.

Keyword: tries, because his eyes drift back to Riddle again and again. Eventually, he gives up and looks at Riddle's face instead.

His dorm head is saying something, probably about how he should have better manners than to run in the halls, but none of the words are registering in his brain.

Actually, Ace would be surprised if anything could register in his brain with the way he feels all tingly. Maybe he should just skip lecture at this point-

"-ce. Ace!" The first-year blinks, and suddenly Riddle's waving one hand in front of his face with a look of mild concern. "I said we're here. Didn't you hear me?"

"Oh." Ace glances up, and sure enough, they're standing in front of room 2408. "Th-thanks, dorm head."

Riddle frowns, and fuck, that should not look as cute as it does. "Are you alright? You look rather red."

"Fine. I'm fine, thanks." Ace does his best to give a relaxed smile, and thankfully, Riddle believes it.

"Very well. Just be sure to get proper rest if you think you're coming down with something." The first-year shoots a thumbs-up at him, and Riddle nods. "Right then, I'll be-"

"Wait!" His dorm head startles and turns back to look at him, his head tilted questioningly, and Ace internally curses the tremor in his voice. "I, uh... why did you, y'know... take me here yourself? I thought you would've just given me directions or something because you're such a busy guy."

"Well, there was a chance you might have misinterpreted, and then you really would've been late. I can't have one of my dorm members getting lost or being late, so leading you here myself was the only surefire way. And besides, I'm not so busy that I can't help you personally."

The answer is so honest and overwhelmingly Riddle that it almost hurts. "O-okay! Sure. Thanks a ton, dorm head."

"It was my pleasure." Riddle smiles lightly before he turns to leave. "You should head inside. And be sure to pay attention, or you know what's coming."

The smile tips him over the edge, and Ace hurriedly pushes the lecture hall doors open before plopping down in the first empty seat he sees and burying his face in his palms with a groan.

That beautiful boy is going to be the death of him. And Ace doesn't mind it one bit.

[unquietspiritao3]

hecklers welcome vinyl review and thoughts on how the heck james did this

excessive and spoilery comedy-nerd thoughts on the hecklers welcome vinyl/kettering recording below the cut!

James was not lying when he said this recording was of a very chaotic gig. The amount of heckling got so out of hand, he had to give up on his planned material in the end. Which I was expecting going into it, because I'd seen someone on tumblr who was at the Kettering show saying the same thing. If I hadn't had that warning, though, and if I didn't have my own bootleg recording of the NYC show I went to, I might've been disappointed at just how little of the actual material made it onto this vinyl.

All that said, I'm glad I have this recording, because one of the things I love most about comedy is dissecting how it works! And thanks to my relatively-heckle-free show, I didn't really get to see how James was managing his concept for the tour without totally losing control of the audience. The vinyl definitely gave me a lot of fascinating insight there.

I've only listened all the way through once, so these are just initial thoughts. I'll probably find other things when I listen again and again in the future. Also, most of this is me guessing things. I know from a friend who was at the RHLSTP live recording James did a few weeks ago that he talked more about his process for the tour there, and I'm looking forward to hearing if any of my speculation is confirmed when the podcast drops.

The main thing that stood out is that James seems to have jokes/bits that are reserved specifically for getting the audience back on course. If you were at a more well-behaved show, you might not have heard them!

To wit: In the planned material, very close to the beginning, he explains that he doesn’t like doing standup comedy and that he’s had a pattern of getting angry at his audience. He tells a story of a particular gig early in his career where he didn’t handle a heckler well. Then it’s supposed to be sort of a record-scratch-‘you’re-probably-wondering-how-I-got-here’ thing for the rest of the show, with lots of stories from his childhood and such.

The important part to understand is he establishes the ‘I hate my job’ concept early enough that hopefully there are no heckles to derail it, so he can count on being able to do callbacks to that material at any point. This was demonstrated about 15 minutes into the Kettering show, when he went from managing a heckler, to doing a bit about a list of reminders/affirmations he keeps on his phone and reads through before each gig. I didn't get to hear this bit at all in NYC! And it was a delightful additional insight into James’ psyche and very funny, so I’m so glad it made it onto the vinyl.

I’ll share what he revealed of the list in a separate post instead of burying it in a bunch of meta. For my purposes here, the only thing to know is the last item: ‘you don’t have to keep on doing this if you don’t want to.’ To which he added, ‘I could run out here and play the drums’, and immediately started playing the child-size drum set he has on stage. And once he was done playing, he went straight into more of the material I'd heard at my show.

So that's the other half of the ‘get the gig back on track’ strategy I didn't see until now. In NYC, he went over to the drums or the tetherball set occasionally, but it wasn’t even acknowledged in his material. He'd go over, play, then continue with the next bit. But in this ‘list’ routine, he uses the drums very specifically to sort of reset the show. He goes from dealing with a heckler, to doing a joke he can stick in anywhere as needed, to playing the drums, to picking up roughly where he should be in the actual sequence of the material.

I imagine the drum solo also gives him a pause where he doesn’t need to talk and can think through how he might have to cut or rearrange things to manage his timing. Not that it mattered in the end for the Kettering gig, but I can see how it would work quite well when half the audience isn’t unruly teenage boys, haha.

So interesting!

[bluestar22x]

The Fallen Warrior: Chapter 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (nicknamed Willow)

Other Characters: Ellie Williams, Tommy Miller

Summary: A nephal can only remain hidden for so long

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 4,300(ish)

Warnings: Fowl language, angst, POV switches, nods to show's plot continues

Author’s Note: Back at it again. I know I'm so slow to update this one, but it's getting where I should be able to post more often real soon. Fingers crossed.

xxx

"So how's Ellie settling in?" Tommy asked as you sat down at a table in the local bar with him and Joel, beers in hand.

It had been a week since you'd taken her in, eight days to be exact, and it was the first day you'd dared to leave the house for anything but groceries, having taken some time off of work to help the girl transition into living with you.

"Alright," you told him honestly. "Ellie's got a mouth on her, and she doesn't like talking about her past, but I can tell she really wants this to work out..."

"However?" Joel prompted, having heard the pause at the end of your sentence.

"However the adoption agency side of things isn't going well," you said, "I haven't told them about Ellie yet, she's made me swear not to until I get approved, but I went to see all the officials I needed to see to get permission to adopt a kid and it turns out it is going to be a lot harder than I expected. Did you know it can take up to six months or more to get an okay? And even if I do get it, that doesn't mean they'll let me adopt her in particular."

"Well, that's just stupid," Tommy commented, after taking a sip from his bottle. "Why wouldn't they let you pick her? Or her you? Surely if she wants to live with you that would be that."

You sighed. "You'd think so, but apparently it doesn't work that way."

"Fuckin' red tape," Tommy muttered.

You chuckled. "Yeah. But I'm going to save the cursing for later, if it doesn't happen. I'm not giving up hope yet. If I have to fight for her I will."

"What will ya do if they don't let you take her in officially?" Joel inquired.

You huffed. "I have no fucking idea. What I'm doing now is technically illegal. Harboring a runaway, they call it. She can't stay with me for the whole process or I'll risk them finding out. And if they turn me down, she'll be stuck in the foster system once more until she runs off again. Who knows where she'll end up after that."

Joel's expression turned grim, knowing fully well where she'd end up. On the sharp side of an angel's blade.

"Well, we won't let that happen," Tommy assured you.

You scoffed. "Sorry, but what are you going to do? Take me and Ellie on the run with you?"

"Maybe not," he said, "But Joel and I can give you glowing references as we planned. That's a start at least."

You smiled. "Thanks. Though I could probably use some aiding and abetting if that's too much to ask. I don't want you guys to get into trouble, but I could use some assistance tomorrow."

Tommy raised his brows in surprise. "Oh?"

"There's a lady that's supposed to stop by to check out the house tomorrow," you explained. "Ellie obviously can't be there when she shows up. I was hoping you two would watch her for me. Keep her at your place until she's gone."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Joel told you. "She don't like me."

"She didn't trust you," you said. "There's a difference. But she knows you and Tommy are friends. If I tell her it's the only way she'll jump at it."

Joel and Tommy shared a look of concern.

"She won't tear the house down," you promised them.

"That's not what I'm worried about," Joel said.

"If the lady finds out Ellie's a runaway I will tell her I lied to you and that you both didn't know," you added.

He grunted. "Not that either."

"We'll look after her," Tommy decided, interrupting you both. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"I'm probably asking a bit too much of our friendship," you mused.

He shook his head. "Don't matter. Just means you'll owe us when we have to bury a body."

You snorted. "Ha ha. You think you're hilarious."

He flashed you a wide grin. "Cause I am."

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder. "Sure, cowboy."

There was nothing to be done that night about it, so you changed the subject after that, trying to keep things light.

But while Tommy was on board, you could tell Joel wasn't. For the rest of the night he was quieter than you'd seen him in a while, clearly mulling over something. But whenever he got this way and you asked what was bugging him he'd just say "nothin'" and that was that, so you didn't bother.

You'd later realize that his "nothin'" was actually a hell of a lot.

x

When they got back home at eleven, Joel and Tommy parted ways for a while.

Tommy was going to stake out your place for a few hours and reinforce the invisible wards that he and Joel had put up on your house the night Ellie had moved in. It would keep her hidden from other angels, or at least make it difficult for them to pinpoint exactly where she was.

It was also taking a little bit of their power away every time they renewed it, but it wasn't like they weren't already getting closer and closer to being completely mortal anyway. Being cut off from Heaven (and Hell) did that to an angel.

It was probably why Joel didn't sense the angel in his kitchen until after he turned the lights on and saw him.

The angel was unassuming looking in appearance and stature. Small by adult human standards, barely reaching five foot two inches and bony all over, but it was an illusion, just like the way he was lounging in one of the kitchen table's chairs, as if he had no care in the world. Joel remembered him instantly. He hadn't been there the day Jophiel had struck down Eva, but he was her finest soldier. Her right hand man, as humans put it. To forget him would have been dangerous.

Joel froze in place by the edge of the room, fear coursing through his veins. "Zuriel."

"Jaoel, brother." The angel smiled, but it was not warm. "Nice to see you again. It's been a while. What have you been up to?"

"You don't get to know," Joel said gruffly. "You here to kill me finally?"

"We gave up chasing you centuries ago," Zuriel stated, swinging one leg over his other casually. "That ended the target on your back. Michael and Jophiel don't care that you and Thomas are here anymore, so long as you continue to not be in our way and you do not...reproduce."

His expression twisted in disgust, the idea of mating with a human absolutely repulsive to him. What resulted was even worst as far as he was concerned.

Joel had already heard it from him way back when the first nephilim had begun showing up on Earth.

"Then why are you here?" Joel asked, making fists with his hands and clenching his jaw.

"You do not know?" Zuriel questioned, quickly playing off his initial surprise. "There's a nephal nearby. We can't quite pinpoint where it is, and we were wondering if you had sensed it?"

"No," Joel lied. "You know what it's like for fallen angels. Thomas and I have been here too long to recognize others by their power easily. I didn't even know you were here until I saw you with my own eyes."

Zuriel hummed. "True. And no chance it's yours?"

"Fuck you, Zuri," Joel hissed.

He huffed. "I'm not your type."

"Out!" Joel snarled, pointing to the front door. "We haven't done anything worthy of you bothering us. Go on your way."

Zuriel hopped onto his feet and strolled over to him, a smirk plastered on his face. "Careful how you speak to me, Jaoel. You're not an archangel anymore. You can't be sure you can still win a fight against me."

Joel narrowed his eyes at him. "An even playing field has never perturbed me."

"True."

Zuriel passed him and headed for the door. "If you notice anything, you know how to summon me."

"Why would I help you?" Joel inquired, his jaw starting to hurt from how tense he was keeping it. He'd forgotten how good Zuriel was at getting under people's skin. He'd never been the one under attack. Zuriel had never toyed with Jaoel. He'd once respected him; but that was a long time ago, before Jaoel had loss much of his power and changed his name to Joel.

"Cause if you don't, if you hide a nephal from us, we will end you," Zuriel said over his shoulder. "And we'll make sure Thomas is first."

With that, he stepped out of the house and banged the door behind him.

Joel was left fuming, still standing at the entrance of the kitchen.

The anger quickly morphed into dread.

It was only a question of how long he and Tommy would be able to hide you and Ellie from Zuriel and the others. They already knew Ellie was in the city. Eventually they'd figure it out, wards or not, and it would be in a matter of days, not weeks.

Joel wanted to rush over to your house immediately and tell you to follow him, go on the run with him and Tommy, but he knew to convince you he'd have to reveal the truth about himself to you, and he wasn't quite ready for that yet.

Besides, Zuriel could be watching. It would be better to wait. At least until after your meeting with the adoption agency's representative.

It was an excuse, but he needed time to pack and plan anyway.

x

It was one in the afternoon when you walked Ellie over to the Millers' house, an hour before the representative from the adoption agency was supposed to show up.

When you entered with her, Joel and Tommy joined you both by the door and exchanged brief greetings with you.

"Ellie, this is Tommy and Joel." You waved your hand at each of them as you spoke their names and she nodded.

"Remember what I told you," you pleaded, taking one of her hands in yours.

Ellie huffed. "Yeah, yeah, best behavior, they're your friends."

You kissed her temple before she could avoid it, and you turned to the brothers.

"Thanks again for watching her."

"No need," Tommy insisted.

"Okay, I'd better go," you said, backing away. "I'll come back to pick Ellie up as soon as the visit is done."

"Good luck," Tommy said.

"Thanks!" you called out as you left the house. The screen door slammed behind you, and then there were three.

Ellie glanced awkwardly over at Tommy, then at Joel. "Soooo...got any board games?"

"No games," Joel said shortly, turning away, still not liking the idea of being stuck with the kid for a few hours, even though he was trying to save her.

"We got movies," Tommy offered, gesturing for her to follow him into the living room. "You can pick one to watch."

"Do you have hot chocolate?" she asked.

Joel couldn't help but stop and turn to face her, eyebrows arched. "You want hot chocolate in eighty degree weather?"

"Willow has it almost every night," she replied defensively. "Says it's her go-to cheat treat. I'd never had it before she had me try it a few days ago and I like it too. What does it matter if it's not winter? Texas never actually gets a real winter."

She had him there.

"We have some in the kitchen pantry," Tommy told her. "You know how to use a water boiler?"

"I'm fourteen fuckin' years old," she muttered after rolling her eyes. "Of course I know how to use one."

She strolled into the kitchen and Joel followed her, observing quietly as she grabbed the appliance off the counter and headed for the sink to fill it up.

He'd been thinking all day about giving her an invisible ward that would help her hide better from the angels outside of your home, and how he would manage to do it. He didn't know if a better opportunity would come up, so he took it.

He raced over to the sink as she opened the faucet up and snatched up her wrist, shutting the water stream off at the same time. Using more of his power he burned the invisible ward into the skin under his fingertips and she hissed at the brief but sharp pain that resulted from it before yanking her arm away from him.

"What's your problem, dude?" she snapped. "Crazy old man."

"Can't use the tap water for drinkin'," Joel explained. Another lie in two days. "It's not safe. Got arsenic. We've got a jug of water in the fridge, use that."

Ellie looked at him oddly then headed for the refrigerator and used the water inside instead.

She boiled the water all by herself with Joel hovering and Tommy plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs, neither of them having anything better to do. They were supposed to be watching her and that's what they were doing, even if it made her clearly uncomfortable, from the way she kept glancing at them.

Once the water was at a high boil she shut off the appliance and Joel handed her one of their plain green mugs, getting it from an upper cabinet that was too high for her to reach.

"Thanks," she said awkwardly before pouring a pack of powdered hot chocolate into the mug.

She went on to add the water, but she tipped the boiler over a little too fast as she did so and some of the hot liquid dripped onto her left hand that was holding the mug in place.

Cursing she jumped away from the bar the mug was set on and let go of the boiler so she could focus on cradling her freshly burnt hand.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

Joel sprung into action, carefully grabbing the injured hand with his right one and guiding her over to the sink again to put her reddening skin under a cool, steady flow of water to soothe her pain.

"Keep your hand under there for a while," he ordered her, and she glanced up at him, surprised. It took a moment for Joel to figure out it was because of the gentleness in his touch and voice.

It had been all so automatic, something he'd done more than once for Eva when she'd burnt herself while cooking, although then it had been a bucket of water he'd used. Eva had never been careful enough when she got distracted for one reason or another.

Joel cleared his thickening throat and backed off. "I'll go wait in the living room."

He didn't look at Tommy as he passed, not wanting to see what his expression might be. No doubt his curiosity would have been piqued by his quick action and tenderness.

It was nothing to think about. He'd gotten used to it; caring for mortal beings, humans and sheep alike. They all had been so easily hurt. And he'd always been there to tend to them. But only a select few. Only the sheep on the farm. Only Eva and Sarah. Only those that meant something to him.

His attentiveness had simply been instilled into him. He didn't actually care about Ellie, not beyond wanting to prevent another nephal from dying on his watch anyway.

But that, in no doubt, was not what Tommy would be assuming, so Joel avoided his gaze.

He didn't want to question it too.

x

Ellie was three minutes into digging through their video tape and DVD collection when she threw her hands up in defeat.

"How can I choose?" she exclaimed. "These movies are all for ancient people!" She picked up one of them, an aged video tape of The Maltese Falcon. "This one's even in black and white!"

"Hey, that one's a classic," Joel argued from his spot on the couch, a little insulted.

She nodded vigorously. "Oh, I know."

Tommy, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, grinned and almost laughed, but a glare from Joel shut it down.

Ellie sighed and put the tape away on their movie shelf. "Unless a copy of Jurassic Park manifests out of nowhere I'm going to need your input. Something made after 1980 at the very least."

"We could watch Young Guns," Tommy suggested. "Haven't watched that one in a while. It's based on Billy the Kid's story. The outlaw."

"I know who he was," she said before turning back to Joel. "What about you."

"Curtis and the Viper 2," Joel and Tommy answered in unison.

Ellie beamed at them. "That sounds so random. What's it about?"

Joel shrugged. "Nothin' much really."

"Dude, you recommended it," she said.

"It's about a young man named Curtis who has to fight his enemy, known as the Viper, to save his wife from him," Joel explained hesitantly.

Ellie searched through the DVDs to find it and lit up when she saw the cover. "Is this some kind of karate movie?"

"Kung Fu," Joel corrected.

"Basically the same thing."

"Karate is a Japanese martial art," he told her. "Kung Fu is Chinese."

Ellie smirked. "Whatever you say, old man."

She removed the disc from its case and slid it into the DVD player under the TV. "I might like this one. Karate, Kung Fu, they're all cool."

Joel silently agreed. He'd never tried it for himself, had always opted for an efficient bawling style of fighting when he hadn't had a blade in hand, but he had full respect for Eastern Asian martial artists. They trained hard and had the skills to show for it.

Ellie did end up engrossed in the film, seemingly enjoying the skillful fighting as much as he did, more so than the actual plot.

She spent most of the movie leaning forward on her elbows, eyes rarely straying from the screen.

But by the time the credits were rolling, she was fast asleep, head pressed against the armrest of the couch opposite to where Joel was sitting, her socked feet brushing against his thigh.

It reminded him of all the times Sarah used to fall asleep beside him, legs swung over his, or head on his lap.

He could feel Tommy watching him observe Ellie, but he ignored him, too lost in the moment and his memories.

Okay, maybe he did care about her. Nothing grand, just a basic fondness. She was as snappy as any human could get, a real pain in the ass at times, but he admired her strength of will, and he could see the innocence she was hiding somewhere deep inside. It was all in her eyes, ones not so unlike Sarah's.

And Ellie was the same age as Sarah had been when she'd died.

Maybe it was a sign. A sign that he was meant to protect her. Why God would want him to eluded him, but that was typical.

A sudden knock at the back door startled both Joel and Tommy and woke Ellie up. She rubbed her eyes and glanced around as the brothers sprung to their feet warily.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Stay here," Joel commanded. "Tommy, you too."

Tommy nodded and stood by Ellie to guard her while Joel headed for the door cautiously.

When he opened it a female angel was standing on the other side, slim but not skinny, pale with straight midnight hair that reached her middle back, and almond shaped eyes that stared into his soul.

He knew her well, just like his previous visitor. He stiffened, not sure what to expect from her. "Celina, what are you doing here?"

"I came to warn Thomas," she replied. "And you. I know we never interacted much, but Thomas was my friend, and so you are too. Zuriel is on his way. He knows you are harboring the nephal."

"You told him," Joel growled. Assuming.

"No!" she shouted. "I would not. I may be working under Zuriel, but I don't agree with any of them. I differ in their opinion that she must be destroyed. I have always. No being should be condemned for what they are. Only by what they do. And she has not harmed anyone to our knowledge."

"Who figured it out then?" Joel inquired.

"William," she answered. "He is a newborn angel. Trained by Zuriel himself. He was standing watch nearby and sensed her while she and her guardian were walking over to your house. Saw her. They've been planning ever since. Waiting until dark so they could attack without gaining the attention of prying human eyes."

"You need to go," Joel said. "They'll kill you if they find out you warned us."

"Not before you know," Celina paused, "They have more plans for the nephal girl than death. For the last century the demons have been rising again. More than ever before are breaking out of Hell. Michael wants to drain the nephal dry of her blood and use that blood, the power in it, to strengthen the weakening gates, to prevent more demons from walking the Earth. She is the key to saving the world."

"There must be some other way," Joel protested.

"In a way," Celina told him. "We need a lot of nephal blood, too much for anyone to survive if it were taken all at once, but her blood does not need to be fresh. It will strengthen the gates enough for the barrier to last for centuries even without a sacrifice. Joel, promise me you will keep her safe, but also promise me you will drain her of her blood, put it aside, and use it once you have enough. The world will end if you do not take the risk of going to the alter."

"Even if I did do that, I do not know the incantation to use," he admitted.

Celina shoved a hand in the back pocket of her jeans and handed him a piece of folded paper. "This has everything on it that you need to know to complete the ritual; including which alter to seek."

Her eyes darted left to right. She made shooing gestures at him. "Now, with all respect archangel, get out of here, now!"

He tipped his head at her. "Thank you, Celina."

He got a stern look in return. "Don't make me regret it."

Joel kept his eyes on her long enough to see her unfurl her dark wings and fly away, then rushed into the living room.

"I heard everything," Tommy told him when he entered.

"Get Ellie into the truck," Joel ordered him. "I'm going to empty the safe of our cash and throw some necessities in the duffel bag. One minute."

Tommy nodded and turned to Ellie. "You heard him."

She folded her arms. "I'm not going anywhere with you unless Willow comes, and until I know what the fuck is going on."

"Bad people are coming for you," Joel explained.

She blinked at him in disbelief. "What?" Why?"

"No time to tell a story," he told her. "We will answer all your questions later."

"I'm still not going without Willow," she declared.

"We'll get her too," Tommy promised. "I'll go get her. Just stick by Joel."

He shared a glance with him and Joel gave Tommy a single nod of permission. There was no use fighting Ellie over it and you were likely in danger too, especially if Zuriel arrived to an abandoned house. He would seek you out; demand to know where he'd taken Ellie.

Tommy darted across the street, and Joel got to work shoving whatever he could into a single duffle bag that he kept in the main closet for emergency use. There were already supplies in it, toothbrushes and paste, combs and spare clothing for him and Tommy, but he had much more to add in. The money, their blades, their fake IDs and passports, small drinks and snacks. The bag barely zipped when he was finished.

He and Ellie were out the door when you and Tommy reached the truck.

"I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me what's going on," you said, hand on hip.

"There's no time!" he exclaimed.

"Then you'd better be quick," you told him.

"Fine," he spat, tired of humans resisting him. Why couldn't you and Ellie just trust him?

"There's angels after Ellie," he revealed.

You scoffed. "I was thinking serial killer, but that's even better. Are you missing some meds or somethin'? This isn't like you."

"It's true," Tommy insisted.

"And how do you know that?"

"'Cause we're ones too," he admitted, letting his wings free to stretch wide out, not caring if any of the other neighbors saw. There were more important matters now.

Your jaw dropped as you stared at them, as did Ellie's.

Joel just sighed. He really would miss Austin.

"Holy shit, his wings are fucking real!" Ellie gasped. "Willow, they're fucking real!"

You swallowed hard. "Why are they after her?"

"We will tell you both everything once we're all safe," Joel swore. "But if we don't leave now, I won't get the chance to."

You nodded and turned to Ellie. "Get in the truck."

"They're fucking angels, Willow!" Ellie yelled.

"And they're friends," you said. "Go on."

Ellie watched as Tommy tucked his wings away once more then turned quickly to climb into the backseat, leaving the door open for you.

With a final glance to Joel and Tommy, you followed her in.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed @solanumofthestars

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[quibbs126]

*sigh* I don’t know. I don’t even really know why I’m posting this in the first place, I don’t really like it

I’d say what it is, but you can read what’s on the tin. I thought it’d be cool if I drew that g2 Optimus design, because I think it’s cool looking and Optimus might look good in black and red, and with pink eyes

This was my reference by the way

But no, I couldn’t figure out how to make him look right. I thought maybe I could try sketching him in another style, but no, that didn’t work either. But I finished the sketch and thought it looked halfway decent, but when I went to do lineart I realized it wasn’t. But halfway through lineart I just gave up and slapped it together, slapped some colors on him, wrote some stuff on the page, I guess to fill up the black spaces I know I wasn’t gonna fill with actual drawing, and now we’re here

It’s the fucking arms I tell you. I still don’t know how they’re supposed to work, and I don’t know how to pose them either. So they look like shit. But I can’t just not have them, so they have to be there

And I don’t really know what’s happening on the shoulders either, particularly the wheels. I know I made them too small but I don’t know how to make them look how they do on the toy either

I considered trying a more stylized art style since the 3D was fucking with me, but my brain couldn’t figure out how to do that either, so I’m stuck doing the same thing over and over again, drawing in circles and wondering why I’m not getting anywhere, while simultaneously being unable to figure out what I’m doing wrong

So now we’re here. It looks bad. The shoulder pentagons are too small. The face is too tall. The colors on the face are all wrong. The arm is all off anatomy wise. I forgot to color in the black on the back despite going in and adding lines for them. The grill’s off. The chest doors don’t look like doors the open up, they look stuck to the rest of him. He barely looks 3D because I’m bad at doing this

But I got far enough, and I knew that even I start over on a new canvas, I wouldn’t want to delete it by this point, so I might as well finish it instead of having it taunt me every time I see it. So here we are, as I’ve said multiple times

I really wish I was better at drawing Transformers. I should be at this rate, it’s been a couple months. But no, I don’t know how to improve and I keep staying with the same mediocre art, because I don’t seem to like trying. I do try, but it’s not improvement, it’s just me making the same mistakes over and over again. Like with arms and the joints

Why can’t I get better? Am I just not trying? I don’t know how to try better

I have thoughts I want to share with people because I think they’re neat, and I know any thoughts I do have will only gain traction and be seen if there’s art attached, at least here on tumblr, and because I am an artist, I have to try and draw them. Especially because I’m anti-social and a cheapskate, so I can’t ask someone I know who can draw Transformers good and I won’t commission anyone for it either. I’ll only get what I want if I do it. But I’m bad at doing it

So it’s either write it out and see some people like it, but it’ll only be for the next couple days before it gets forgotten and I too forget about it, and it’ll never do as good as if I did draw it, or draw it but not as good as it needs to be, so people won’t really care about it anyways. Because my flat drawings aren’t really good anyways, just mediocre, and I write too much on my drawings and go on tangents, meaning people probably aren’t gonna reblog it with their own thoughts on anything I said either

But this is just me being greedy anyways. No one’s entitled to give me their opinions, especially when I know my thoughts are stupid anyways. I don’t really know anything about Transformers, not like other people do, I’m just some casual person who just got here and should just go back to Cookie Run at this rate, but is stupid and keeps thinking that maybe she’ll get good at this and have opinions people actually care about

And don’t go on here telling me that I shouldn’t put so much emphasis on what other people think, so long as it makes me happy. It doesn’t work like that with me. Drawing the thing’s only half the fun for me, and sometimes that varies. The real fun comes from telling people about the thing I made, and the ideas I made for it, especially when they tell me what they think of it. If I draw something and nobody sees it, and I don’t tell anyone about it, what was the point of me drawing it? Even if I enjoyed it, heck when I do, I’m even more motivated to show it to people, because I’m proud of it, or that pride comes later when I see people really do like it. These things are intrinsically tied together for me, I can’t separate them

What’s even the point of all this? I’m just complaining at this rate about basically nothing, at least nothing to do with what I drew. But I don’t like what I drew. But I made it so I have to show it, at least to get a semblance of what I was going for out there. I’d like to think maybe if it did, someone better could get what I’m going for and do it better, and I can see it better, but no one ever does. I’m not good enough for that. Maybe some people did, but not anymore, I’ve grown too big for my britches. And also we’re not in the same fandoms anymore

And I write all this, but it feels almost performative. Like I’m putting on an act of frustration and disappointment and anger and whatever other emotions I can’t quantify right now. Because this’ll still be on the post. I’m still gonna post this. I’m still gonna diligently put my tags in it like any other post. Like I’m doing this for show. I’m not, but I’m making a deal of it publicly online, aren’t I? So I must be doing this for attention

*sigh* Well I suppose it’s my own fault

I’ll probably try to attempt this again some day, maybe even later today or tomorrow (actually probably not, I work tomorrow), because I never got out what I wanted, but I can’t figure it out right now and I’m too lazy to make it any better. So take this not very good quality art that I really shouldn’t even be posting, but hey, it’s content, isn’t it?

[purityvalentine]

okay lets try and be sensible and logical about it

what are the things i have to do and want to do

there is no way i can remember them all at the same time so i will have to come back and edit this post whenever i remember.

colour wheel. currently one of my most daunting tasks, needs to be completed, no deadline, but the longer it takes, the worse i feel.

commission. it's for a friend and they are patient but i still don't want to take forever. stressful, high priority. DONE

art trade. technically should be commission but i'm unfortunately... whatever i'm not getting into it. needs to be done at some point, but i've not heard from them either so it's looming over me but not urgent.

commission fix. have to go back to an old commission and fix something. not a huge task but it's also lower priority so it feels bad to try and work on when there is higher priority things like the current commission. DONE

merch stuff. this has many divisions but currently i'm trying to keep actual contact with an artist and not ignoring the emails because of my overwhelmedness and even that is. gwgehghh. at least once the preparation stages are done then it will just be me being like. yes. it is good. not huge but like every email HAS to be prioritised and i need to NOT take FOUR GODDAMN DAYS TO REPLY AGAIN ASSHOLE.

chibi model. again, lots of divisions. no deadline but another thing that makes me feel bad the longer it takes.

nun needs new legs/shoes

office lady needs new legs/shoes

emo needs new legs/shoes

racing needs drawing

astronaut needs drawing

mecha pilot needs drawing

magical girl needs drawing

outdoors needs drawing

all of the new legs need to be added to the rig, adventure model textures needs to be fixed, rigging needs updating (by me)

connected to the above, i need to find a safe 🏴‍☠️ of live2d cubism again because i deleted mine years ago due to low computer space

also i'd like to add that new heart hairstyle, my main idol outfit, and alternate eye colours to the chibi model. very low priority i'm already dying here

uh. like. streaming. i need to stream. i want to stream. this is a constant and a high priority that just constantly slaps me in the face and the longer i go the worse i feel

artfight is approaching and i would really like to draw my characters some references for that.

oh fuck artfight is approaching so i want to be done with the colour wheel and my commissions before then

covers. i need to make. a cover. i need to record. songs. i need to record SOMETHING for the love of CHRIST PLEASE I'VE BEEN LEARNING JUST RECORD A FUCKING SONG PURITY WHY IS IT SO HARD (progress made)

mini painting. i need to prime more of my guys. i need to stream mini painting. i need to practice more. i need to paint the test coco.

AUGH back to the merch i need to get the design i drafted last year either MADE or find an artist who can make it because i really want it

need to stream more so i can be ready if [redacted] ever opens auditions again but even if they don't i want to be streaming regularly before vexpo so i can talk [--------------------------------------]

need to update my toyhouse with the art i forgot/new art especially the one that p****s did because i feel bad i haven't uploaded it and i dont want to make them think i don't appreciate it because i do (as usual i've probably still missed plenty of stuff but i got some of the things i missed in there at least)

okay real life stuff i need to get those tests ordered that i found so i can find out what's going on with my health because once i do THAT then i can book that private doctor's appointment to actually try and make some progress with mental health stuff. especially after being told to my face that i seem [redacted] because true but ouch that is not supposed to be visible mum's responsibility now lmao

honestly i need to start applying for jobs again even if it makes me wanna kms but also with all the other stuff i want to do i feel like that might just smash the jug of water that is my brain so. but also not having a job is destroying me too so like. catch 22.

also i should probably like talk to people/my friends but that just sets off a whole chain of anxiety. god everyone probably thinks i hate them i need to [redacted]

need to get my passport renewed -> need to turn myself into a decent looking person and find a passport photo booth to renew my passport

need to get all the tech i've replaced/am replacing organised and ready to take to the second-hand store, reminder to self they they wanted me to id it all first before i take it, i also probably don't want to carry all of that into town so i need to find a store with a carpark near it and then organise a day where my mum is available during the day to help me get it there

old graphics tablet

really old tablet (samsung) (needs factory reset first if i can find a charger)

graphics card

the htc vive that doesnt fit in my room

switch lite (where the fuck is it????)

still gotta sort the CPU issue because the return thing got fucked

need to do that thing related to that old company i worked for

do my taxes and not leave it until the last fortnight this time

update the starting screen slideshow with new art

[theageofsims]

Story process asks, no. 10 & no. 12! 😊

Hi, thanks for asking me these questions :)

[TEN] Clearly it would be Makoto so I can just let my cats sleep around with other cats and produce kittens while I don't keep a steady job… and sleep with Judith Ward's mean ass to the point I get her pregnant even though I'm supposed to be a gay man -- LMAO, sorry. I had to once again throw some MAJOR SHADE to Makoto

Honestly? I'd probably want to be Gloria at this point in time because now that I'm a type 2 diabetic, I can't eat fucking cake when I want to eat cake. If I was Gloria I'd have a fridge full of cookies and cakes and pies… not because that's what I ate before I became a diabetic or what made me one, but because now that I am one I can't just eat that stuff whenever my hormones or anger wants me to eat it. THIS WAS A TRIGGERING QUESTION apparently, LMAO!!!! I'm kidding… but also, she's in a serious relationship William fucking Jones now. That's like being involved with Batman… well… maybe not Batman, but Bruce Wayne at least! I should haver probably said Indiana Jones instead, but I'm trying to not mention another Harrison Ford character (that I adore) so… yeah. LMAO. But it would have worked out because Indy is a scientist anyway.

[TWELVE] Being able to have visuals added to stories I would have written elsewhere anyway. I think I've mentioned it at least a couple of times that I've been writing stories my whole life practically. I was about 9 years old when I used those wild colored gel pens my parents bought me for school and all the notebooks to write fan fictions on my favorite musicial artists, made up characters, tv characters, and movie characters. I continued as I got older. Aside from riding bikes outside with my friends, going to the movies and the mall, or just hanging out with them at thier houses or them at mine, in my spare time I would write stories.

One thing I always wanted to do was be able to draw and I can't. I'm really creative in a lot of ways, but I can't seem to learn how to draw no matter what I do.

Anyway, so I spent years writing, but all of the visuals were in my head. I didn't think that I'd ever use the Sims to help me get some of my stories across (I still actively write fan fiction, but I post it on Archive of Our Own and there's no images to go with them) becaus I've been playing the Sims since Sims 1. My first attempt at a sims story and simblr started somewhere in 2014/2015 with the Sims 3, but it never amounted to anything.

I didn't really think I'd end up writing a story that I've stuck with for so long, but there's many factors why that's come to be. It may happen for my other stories as well, I just don't know yet.

I guess a truth, though a unique one, is that I love movie characters a lot and I have my favorite actors/actresses who play a wide range of characters. Clearly Harrison Ford is my most favorite actor for many years now and I've spent a lot of those years writing fan fictions with his characters as well as other characters from other things I love, but also made up characters of my own.

Every time I watch a Harrison movie I always wonder what their lives are like outside of the movie -- or what happens to them at the end of the movie? So that's where fan fiction comes in not just for them, but for all the characters I love. It's like fleshing out their characters even more and giving them a new life or new experiences with different sorts people.

It's just something that comes natural to me as it did when I was writing fan fiction for the tv show NCIS or before that, with The X-Files. All of my fan fiction from age 13 to age 20 had to do with Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Skinner, Krycek, and everyone else from The X-Files because that was my total jam during that phase of my life (but it will always be one of my most favorite TV Shows) anyway.

So I guess my "simblr story writing process" isn't really a simblr story writing process, but just more of a story writing process but with pictures. I get to see my favorite characters visually unlike I've never been able to see them before and I love that… if that makes sense?

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

this week the headline is that i was: Sick. i actually got off to a very solid start to the week on monday, doing all my little habits, finishing my workout program, getting some work done, & going to a friend’s birthday; then tuesday i woke up with what by midday i could no longer reasonably hope was just some morning dryness in my throat and the past six days have been spent resting it off. my symptoms peaked at moderate, and i always feel like there should be a stronger relation between the severity of symptoms and the duration of a cold than there is, but alas. also, last spring i got my hopes up about being “i mean, like, basically almost all better” and my cold that was almost gone returned and then became an absolutelt heinous sinus infection so i am being careful with myself thus time out. tomorrow i will resume normal human activity but i will probably give returning to working out another few days and then, sigh, probably do a couple “build-up” days over a week or two to see if i can mitigate the soreness i always get after a break or at least keep it from interrupting my schedule once i pick up a new 10-week program.

i do feel very lucky that the symptoms waited until tuesday to start because that did mean that after starting working out with this fitfluencer in january 2023, i was finally, finally able to actually complete a program in the time it was written for. i think this little victory is owed to a few things: first, constant little trial and error to figure out the shape of a routine that works for me in many areas of my life so that i didn’t have any weeks i was just too busy and frazzled to get five workouts in; second, probably, to some extent my body just finally adjusting to the demand; third, probably, being still imperfect but more consistent about foam rolling & stretching; and fourth, this sounds weird but i actually believe it, picking up a cottage cheese before bed habit. i did this because when i started this program (for the second time) i noticed that i was going to bed having eaten overall enough (including Getting My Protein In) but still waking up hungry enough that i could tell it had disrupted my sleep (sometimes because i was waking up ravenous at like 3 in the morning) and i remembered a reddit tip i’d once read that came up in a post about sleep on a calorie deficit but which i thought might also apply to a person not trying to cut calories but doing exercise in a way that is intended to cause physical changes in the sense of adding muscle slowly over time… something about the combo of casein, a slow digesting protein, & fat is supposed to keep you full longer. how scientific is any of this? who fucking knows. but my inability to stay asleep went away when i started doing this.

i am also lucky that my symptoms for the most part were not so bad that i couldn’t read. i mean i still spent a lot of time dicking around on the internet because that’s what being sick is for. but i did get to finish some books :)

one reading related quandary i am currently facing is there are so many books i want to read for the first time now that i am reading books again but also i started reading house of mirth as a bedtime read and then was like… actually i’m too interested in rereading this to read it 3 pages at a time while falling asleep. i really do want to hit 50 books and have them be 50 new books but there are a couple things i’ve been interested in rereading for ages… partly because part of what i’m trying to learn to do this year is to more actively read as a writer and think more seriously about what it is i do and do not like in fiction writing as i slowly and nervously and mostly mentally futz around with the concept of learning to write it myself. and it does strike me that in addition to new books (which may or may not be good) it would probably be fruitful to read the books that have lingered positively in my memory which i read as a young and unserious reader, such as the house of mirth. (i can’t really make this argument for tender is the night, because i’ve read it like three times including in adulthood, and part of its hold on me is i find it just about impossible to see the seams, so to speak… but i do in fact want to reread that one too, lol.) perhaps i will allow myself one reread a month assuming that i am otherwise progressing on schedule. this also means i have not been good about bedtime book and i confess i am not sure where to turn on that front… perhaps this is where i try to make peace with poetry?

this week i have some fun stuff planned & am also going to try to work more because i am feeling anxious about (1) money and (2) prep work i’ll have to do in the future, and putting in more hours than i strictly need to will allay at least one of those concerns somewhat. upcoming books are angela carter’s the bloody chamber (stories), toni morrison’s playing in the dark (nonfiction), & sally rooney’s conversations with friends (novel), and as much as i loved love & theft and have already begun to uncover more than i anticipated left in me from the turn of the screw i confess my brain is a little relieved to take a break from marxist cultural criticism & the sentences of henry james. i kinda wanna aim to actually finish this one (1) yellowjackets fic and to do it by season’s end because my interest in the show is already close to extinguished but i like this little story, but we’ll see. next weekend we shall lose some sleep but in return daylight will have been saved!

[8bitsupervillain]

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 8 Matsuribayashi pt. 61

Once again I can’t help but wonder if anyone reading this is brand new to the series. I figure that most of the people reading this have gone through the series in one way or other, and they want to see the newbie’s reactions. But still I wonder if someone saw the sheer volume of posts I’ve made about the series and despite knowing nothing about it decided to read all this. I’m going to appeal to my own ego and say that yes, there’s probably a few who’ve read this despite knowing nothing about Higurashi. Without wishing to sound mushy I’m just thrilled to death anyone other than me has read any of my rambles.

Smash cut to Akasaka standing atop a mountain of Mountain Dog bodies in a bad ass martial arts pose, with the gaming club behind and to the side just in absolute awe at his prowess. Alternate take: posed like a Frank Frazetta artwork with Rika and Hanyuu clinging to his legs while he possess atop the pile shirtless and with a big sword.

I’m sure Rika would be down for a brew.

Well better late than never I suppose. Although I kind of got the impression Irie was more receptive to the idea that Takano was their enemy. He had a healthy skepticism about it, but he seemed pretty on board when Rika talked about it with him in the school. Or so it seemed to me at any rate.

There’s a moment coming up where Rika talks to the rest of the gaming club about the Bloodhounds unit mentioned here. I find it to be a particularly vexing conversation because in the narrative, there’s no way she should know about their existence. I believe it happens soon anyway, won’t I look quite foolish if that particular conversation doesn’t happen for ten more parts?

The real tragedy of them mentioning the Bloodhounds is there isn’t even any art of them in this chapter. I’m interested in seeing an elite military commando squad portrayed in Ryukishi’s art style. Not to sound cruel, but it sounds like an amusing proposition to me.

This reminds me somewhat of an old internet article (2013 or so) written about how most sitcom plots wouldn’t work in the modern day due to the prevalence of cell phones. This method of getting around a bugged telephone wouldn’t work today due to how most phones just forward you to voice mail or something similar if you let the phone ring for more than thirty seconds. Hell even the mid nineties would be a tricky proposition because of answering machines.

Also, Mion is there because I didn’t get the final line there before it transitioned to the scene with the gaming club. Which you probably deduced, but whatever.

I was going to go on a little mini tangent about Rena and Mion being in their school clothes where Rika and Satoko aren’t, but then I remembered at the start of this section it had Rena, Mion, and Keiichi at school. So it was a complaint that had a logical explanation if I thought about it for longer than the zero seconds when I started typing it out.

Now that we’re more than halfway through the final chapter I’m curious to know which art style for the characters do you prefer? Personally I prefer the remake art style, it’s a bit more detailed and offers a more diverse range of facial expressions compared to the console art style. I also feel that it encapsulates the intended feeling of the original art well enough that it can replicate most of their facial expressions on offer there without feeling like it’s more or less just tracing over the originals.

Without wishing to sound like I’m insulting it, the console art kind of feels the most generic of the art styles on offer. It’s a nice looking style, it’s easy on the eyes to look at, but it just feels the most tame, for lack of a better word. Of course, as you’re aware, I’ve been using that for the vast majority of these playthroughs, but that’s to keep a visual consistency, because the 07th mod adds in these various occasional extra arts the console versions added to the games.

The original art style has its amateurish feel to it that gives the series a rather strong identity if you compare it to most visual novels. But again, that comes with the complication that the art isn’t very good. The remake art style meanwhile really captures the essence of the original Ryukishi07 art but adds in a nice layer of realism on top of it, it feels more like a manga meant to cater to the teenage demographic above a shonen or shojo series, but not to the extreme detail of a seinen or josei manga.

[theambivalentagender]

My Comics Process

I've seen other people post an overview of their comic making process, so I figured I'd put up my own for Valley Echoes. Fair warning, a lot of this is probably good examples of what you really shouldn't do. There's bits to it I need to tweak. But overall this is just what works for me.

Step 1: Borderline Maladaptive Daydreaming

I have a general outline of upcoming comics and plot points, mostly in my head, partially written down in a Notepad file named "ejfiejfeij." Sometimes I'll see something like an incorrect quote or headcanon that inspires a part of a comic, and when that happens I'll try to take note of the original creator of said inspiration to credit later.

Several of my comics have been literally inspired by weird things that have happened while playing modded Stardew - one good example being this bit.

Step 2: Sketch Concept

I don't always do this stage in full for every comic - sometimes I just know exactly how things are going to go. But a lot of the time I like doing it because it's a quick way to note down specific visual ideas I have for upcoming comics so I can save time once I get to them.

Funny enough I don't really write scripts for my comics. Again, probably something I should do, but I find writing out scripts actually makes it harder for me to get ideas out fluidly. A script feels like I have to lock down a lot of details right away - that isn't necessarily the truth, it's just how it feels for me, and can result in me not being able to just get the ideas out of my head.

I purposefully keep this stage very, very simplified and loose, mostly for the above reasons. The idea is to keep as much detail-oriented thought away from this stage of the process as possible. You'll see I use certain quick markers to differentiate characters - Shane's sideways hair triangle, Emily's curl, Clint's beard, and Zeke's zig-zaggy hair.

I may write down specific dialogue lines that I know for sure I want in the final comic, but mostly it's just general dialogue ideas or reminders to myself what the "bit" is supposed to be if it's not immediately obvious. I'll add small direction lines if they're important, and quick speech bubbles as a reminder that a character is talking offscreen.

Apologies for my abysmal handwriting. It's readable to me, and in this stage that's really all that matters.

Step 3: Detailed Sketch

This is the part where I finally sit down and take a couple of hours to do the initial comic sketch. Sometimes the final version of this won't entirely match up with the concept. Rarely, I've added or removed panels up until the final image. In most cases, though, this is where the overall comic gets locked in.

I use CSP's 3d models and assets for most of my scenes. I have saved models for each of the characters' proportions, which I find is super great for keeping relative heights consistent. Most of the time when I need props or other set pieces in a scene I'll just use various primatives, however there was absolutely no way in hell I was going to be able to pull that off for the camera, so that's its own asset.

I don't carry my notes over from concept to this stage, I mostly just refer back to the concept layer when I need to add those bits. I've been trying to get more in the habit of sketching out word bubble blocks at this stage to get an idea of how much space I need to leave in each panel. I didn't do this for this comic, which did lead to issues with the one panel where Zeke is trying to walk naturally, but oh well.

Step 4: "Inking"

I like to call this stage "inking" but it's really doing the final clean up layer. This is where I start messing with vectors.

There's actually a lot of steps to this that I can't quite show in this final layer version. Here, I start with just drawing over the lines in the detailed sketch layer with my "inking" pen. I try to keep my lines clear and tend to draw over crossing lines so I can erase the overflow later for a cleaner look. Throughout this stage I'm doing a lot of line adjustments, simplifying where I can, just to make the next part easier.

After I've done all that, I'll go back and adjust line thicknesses. I could probably do a whole post on that alone, but in general I lean toward thicker lines, thickening the lines of clothing, hair, eyebrows, and eyes in particular, as well as thinning wrinkle and other small detail lines.

Step 4: Base Color

I have a pallet of base black-grey-white colors for Valley Echoes, each of which I use consistently for different details. For example, nearly all characters get the same "skin" color (exceptions being Maru, Jas, and Demetrius, who each have their own). Zeke and Shane's hair and common outfit colors are also saved, as well as a few for other recurring characters.

Other than that, I try to "color" according to what needs to stick out in a scene and just trying to make sure grayscale tones aren't too similar next to each other and muddied. If two characters are going to be standing next to each other frequently I try to give them noticeably different shades in their clothing.

The process for this is slightly different for in-color comics. I also have pallets saved for those comics.

Step 5: Details

This is where I'll go back in and add other details that can't simply be added with fill and other tools. In this case, I added Shane's stubble, the blushing in several panels, and Clint turning blue with effect lines.

This is also where I'll add a background. Again, I try to keep the backgrounds so that they don't muddy the foreground elements.

Step 5: Dialogue

This is the bit where I'm likely going to do some revamping in the future. CSP's base dialogue tools are...not great. I'm considering finding another program for doing this bit.

I've also been trying to learn more about methods for dialogue bubble placement in general. This is the bit that can be the most frustrating for me, but overall it works.

How to write the dialogue itself would probably take up multiple posts in of itself. It's a bit instinctual to me because I have much more experience with writing in general. There's also a lot you can say about how splitting dialogue into different bubbles changes how those lines are interpreted, etc.

In this case, a chunk of this comic is taken directly from the original SDV scene, slightly altered for timing purposes. When it comes to canon scenes, it variates on how strictly I follow the dialogue.

After this step, it's just splitting each of these into separate images for each panel and uploading to Tumblr. And I guess that's my very messy, still in development process.

[thatfanficstuff]

Not About You - 28

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x ofc

warnings: torture, dead people, katherine

a/n: so it’s been a minute. sorry. not edited but I wanted to get it posted. future parts should be coming faster. 

After a long beat of silence, Caroline frowned. “What? It was just a joke.”

“No, it was an idea,” Stefan said.

“A great idea,” Damon added.

Lucy rolled her eyes. Normally she’d try to talk them out of it, but to be honest, Mason deserved it. “Have fun I guess,” she said grabbing Caroline’s hand. “’We’re going to get some lunch. I’m starving.”

She didn’t wait for a response as she dragged her blonde bestie to her car. Caroline kept her eyes on Lucy but didn’t say anything until they were pulling out of the drive. “You’re seriously okay with this?”

Lucy shrugged. “He almost got our boys killed. He got me shot. Yeah, I’m good with it.”

Caroline studied her for a moment longer before nodding in agreement and turning to look out the window.

They were nearly through with their quick lunch when Lucy’s phone rang. Stefan. “What’s up?” she answered.

“Bonnie and I are meeting at the well on the Lockwood property. We think that’s where Mason stashed the stone,” he said.

“We’re trusting witchy again, why?”

He sighed. “Not now, Lucy. I need you to come home to make sure Damon doesn’t get carried away.”

Lucy rolled her eyes and hung up the phone. Why Stefan thought she was the person for this job, she had no idea.

“I’m going to meet Stefan and Bonnie,” Caroline said as soon as they stepped outside and she was gone before Lucy could even respond.

Annoyance flared through her. They were supposed to stay together for safety but whatever. Lucy had been in a mood most of the day. She didn’t like being out of the loop. And she hated having to get up to help Caroline with her pet projects. The blonde better be glad Lucy loved her so much.

With a sigh, Lucy started her car and drove home. Screaming greeted her when she walked in the door. Entering the living room, she saw Mason Lockwood chained to a chair while Damon shoved something in his face. From the looks of it, it was wolfsbane. Jeremy Gilbert stood nearby watching everything. She shook her head in slight disbelief.

“Damon, what are you doing?”

He looked up in surprise. “Hi Sweetheart. I’m just trying to get some information out of wolfie here. I need to know what Katherine is up to.”

She snorted. “Probably hiding from my uncle. You can’t just torture people, Damon. It’s rude.”

Jeremy huffed a laugh and she gestured in his direction. “And what is baby Gilbert doing here?”

The teenager scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

Damon’s gaze narrowed in annoyance. “He keeps putting himself in the middle of things. Thinks its his business. It isn’t.”

“Aren’t you a vampire?” she asked. Just compel the idiot kid to leave them alone.

The corner of his lip curled in amusement. “Vervain.” Damn it. That meant they couldn’t eat him either. Not that the thought had even crossed Lucy’s mind.

Her gaze flicked from her boyfriend to Jeremy. “Go home, little Gilbert. This isn’t for you.”

When he hesitated, she scowled. “Now or I’ll call your sister and you’ll have to deal with her being glued to your ass.”

He rolled his eyes and put up his hands. “Fine. Geez.”

Her eyes trailed him until he was gone.

“Great. Could you let me go now?” Mason said, breaking the quiet.

Damon backhanded him, making the chair rock. “What is Katherine up to? Why is she in town?”

“She’s here for me, okay?” the werewolf yelled. “She came with me. She loves me.”

“Well, that’s a lie. She’s been lurking around town and interfering long before your brother died. Sorry, Mason, but it seems as per usual, the bitch lied,” Lucy said.

The wolf scowled. “Don’t call her that.”

Lucy shrugged. “Okay, what would you prefer? Heifer, cunt, harpy, hussy, slag, cum-dumpster, jealous pathetic self-centered troll? I’m sure I can keep going if you need more options.”

Mason sneered but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Where’s she staying? That’s all I want to know. Then I can ask her these questions.” Damon was doing his best to sound reasonable. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

Mason shook his head. “Look man, I’m not telling you anything. I love her.”

Damon patted his shoulder and leaned down to talk to him. “I know you do. I’ve been there. But see, the thing about Katherine is she can’t love anyone. She’s going to end up ripping your heart out. Maybe, I’ll do it for her.”

A moment later, he held the wolf’s heart in his hand. Lucy blinked at him. “Was that really necessary?”

“No.” He shrugged. “But it will piss Katherine off.”

Damon had just finished rolling the werewolf’s body up in the tarp when Stefan appeared moonstone in hand. He was followed by Caroline, Lexi, Bree and Lee, Lexi’s boyfriend.

Lucy was immediately tackled onto the couch by Lexi. “Lucy!”

“Sexy!”

Damon rolled his eyes though he still wore his typical smirk. “Hands off my girl, Lexi.”

She stuck her tongue out at the other vampire and tugged Lucy into her side, keeping an arm around her shoulders. “All this hassle is over that?” Lucy asked, gesturing to the moonstone.

Stefan hummed in agreement. “Apparently.”

She nodded as she sent off a text. She received a response almost immediately. “Elijah says he’s waiting on you and to bring the stone.”

The brothers exchanged a look before racing off up the stairs.

Lucy patted Lexi’s leg before pushing herself up to pick up Mason’s wallet and phone that Damon had left on the floor. The phone rang just as she grabbed it. The contact information was nothing but a heart emoji. Hmm.

“Mason’s phone. Can I help you?”

“Who is this?” The voice unmistakably belonged to one of the doppelgangers but Lucy doubted Elena had Mason’s number.

“Who is this?” she asked back.

“His girlfriend.”

“You know, Katherine, for someone with a boyfriend you’re awfully possessive of your exes.” No sooner had the vampire’s name left her lips than both Salvatores were at her side. Damon pulled the phone from her hand.

“Don’t piss her off,” Stefan hissed at his brother.

Lucy blinked at him in disbelief and gestured to the body at her feet. “A little late for that don’t you think?”

“Hello, Katherine,” Damon all but purred.

Lucy frowned at no longer being able to hear the other side of the conversation. Bree smirked and wiggled her fingers toward the phone. Suddenly, Lucy could hear everything. She smiled in thanks at her favorite witch.

“Where’s Mason, Damon? I won’t ask again.”

“Calm down. He’s right next to me. Of course his heart’s on the other side of the room.” Lucy elbowed her boyfriend in the ribs. That was mean. Funny…but mean.

“How dare you,” Katherine snarled.

“Well, now you can just leave town, can’t you? Bye. See you later. Don’t come back.”

“Do you honestly think I don’t have a plan B? or a plan C or…well, you know how the alphabet works.”

“A plan for what?” Lucy asked, knowing the vampire would be able to hear her.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Katherine answered. “Stay out of my way. All of you. I’m warning you.”

With that she hung up the phone.

“Bitch,” Damon muttered before slipping the phone into his pocket. Lucy handed over the wallet so he could take that as well. He pulled Lucy into his arms and gave her a sweet kiss. “We’re going to help your uncle. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Behave.”

“Yes, because I’m the trouble maker. Besides you got me babysitters. I’ll be fine.”

He hummed in agreement and gave her one more kiss before pulling away. The brothers headed toward the door until Lucy’s voice stopped them. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Damon turned back to her, his brows lifted in question.

She gestured to the body at her feet. “Take your mess with you.”

[keepingupwiththecullensblog]

🌟🐺 Welcome back to "Keeping Up with the Cullens," or should I say, "Keeping Up with Bella and Her Emotional Support Wolf"! 😂🐺 Yep, you read that right. Today, we’re diving into the wild, somewhat questionable choices of Bella Swan as she navigates life post-Edward. And by "navigates," I mean she's pretty much using poor Jacob Black as her personal emotional support wolf. The twist? Jake doesn’t even know he’s a shapeshifter yet! Talk about a surprise coming-of-age moment. 🐺😅

So here’s the tea: Bella, still reeling from the "OMG my vampire boyfriend dumped me" blues, somehow convinces herself that hanging out with a 16-year-old kid is the solution to all her problems. Never mind the fact that she's 18 and technically supposed to be the "responsible" one. 🙄 Instead, Bella’s like, "Hey, Jake! Wanna fix these death traps—oops, I mean, motorcycles—with me?" 😏 And Jacob, being the sweet, puppy-eyed guy he is, is all in, thinking he’s just helping his crush out with a cool project. 🚲💥 It’s like Bella’s version of therapy, except instead of a licensed professional, she’s got a lovestruck teenager with a toolbox. 🧰❤️

Now, let’s pause for a second. What would Charlie (or Edward, if he wasn’t off in vampire brooding land) think about Bella suddenly getting into motorcycles? 🚔😱 They’d freak out! But Bella? She doesn’t care. She’s like, "Rules? Who needs them?" And there she goes, dragging poor Jake into her rebellion. It's almost like she’s using Jake as a stand-in for her lost thrill-seeking with Edward. I mean, nothing screams "I’m okay, really" like convincing a kid to fix motorcycles you know your dad would lose his mind over. 😂🤦‍♀️

As soon as Bella starts hanging out with Jake, it’s like magic—she unzombifies! 🧟‍♀️✨ Suddenly, she’s reacting to life again, as if the fog has lifted and she remembers how to smile. It’s like she’s got her own personal mood ring, and Jake is permanently stuck on "happy." 😄 Charlie’s delighted to see Bella living life again, but if he knew what was actually going on… yikes! 😬 Meanwhile, Mike and Angela are all like, "OMG, Bella’s back!" 😃🎉 But Jessica and Lauren? They’re just annoyed, probably thinking, "Great, now we have to deal with this again." 🙄 Seriously, it’s like watching someone who’s been in a coma wake up and immediately decide to run a marathon. 🏃‍♀️

But here’s where it gets even more ridiculous. Bella’s not just hanging with Jake for the company. Oh no, she’s using him as a human (or should I say wolf?) bandaid for her shattered heart. 💔🐺 Poor Jake doesn’t even realize he’s being friend-zoned harder than anyone in the history of crushes. 😩💔 He’s just trying to be a good friend, and Bella’s like, "Yeah, yeah, that’s nice. Now, fix this motorcycle so I can break my promise to him." 🚲💨 At least they decide to do homework together twice a week—of course, because they still have to pretend to be normal teens, right? 😂📚 Nothing says "teenage rebellion" like calculus homework after a day of fixing motorcycles. 📝🏍️

And just when you think Bella might be turning a corner—BOOM! 💥 She sees "Sam’s cult" jumping off cliffs and immediately thinks, "OMG, someone call an ambulance!" 🚑 But Jake’s all chill, explaining that it’s just cliff diving for fun. And Bella? Of course, she wants to try it! Because why not? What could go wrong with adding "potentially fatal leaps off cliffs" to her growing list of questionable life choices? 😂🤦‍♀️ Honestly, this girl definitely needs professional help. 🛋️ Maybe she’s got a bucket list we don’t know about that just says "Give Charlie a heart attack" in bold letters. 😂📋

Even though Jacob’s magically helping her reconnect with life, Bella’s still having nightmares. 🌙😱 She wakes up screaming almost every night, missing her sleep bodyguard. Maybe she should ask Jake to sleep over since Edward isn’t around to protect her dreams. I mean, what could be more comforting than having your emotional support wolf on standby? 🐺😴 But honestly, can you imagine Jake’s face if Bella did ask him to sleep over? He’d probably turn into a wolf just out of sheer awkwardness! 😂

Jake, bless his heart, has no idea what he’s in for. He’s just trying to help his friend, but little does he know, he’s being used as a one-stop-shop for all of Bella’s mental health needs. 😳 And the worst part? He’s not even aware that he’s about to become a literal wolf, which is a whole other can of supernatural drama that’s just waiting to explode. 🐺💥 It’s like he signed up to be in a buddy comedy and accidentally walked into a horror movie instead. 🎬😱

It’s like Bella’s got her own personal therapy wolf, except she’s not exactly paying him in kibble or belly rubs. Instead, she’s paying him in emotional whiplash and unintentional manipulation. Seriously, Bella, maybe a shrink would have been a better idea? 🛋️😅

So, what’s next for Bella? More reckless behavior? More using Jake for his fixing skills and emotional support? Probably. Let’s just hope she doesn’t drag him into something even crazier—though with Bella, that’s almost a guarantee. Stay tuned for more wild antics from Forks’ most melodramatic human! 😂🌲