#14 MORE HOURS UNTIL I CAN. HAVE THEM. ON MY ACCOUNT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vi-enti · 2 years ago

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school’s over so back on the fanfic grind (a grind i have not openly shared on the internet since like. 2018), unsure if this is an idea to continue but i am thinking so hard... about the difficulties of the healing process. really gotta purge that poison

. . .

“Hello, this is… Hajime Hinata. The date is… I have no idea what the date is. It’s been 14 days, 9 hours, 47 minutes and 24 seconds since we woke up from the Neo World Program.”

“…I don’t know why I said it like that. It’s been about two weeks.”

“Uhh… I’m not sure what to say here, really. Naegi—Makoto, that is—told me this would be a good way to get my thoughts down. That way if there’s anything I forget, or anything I want everyone to know after… Well, I don’t think I can really forget anything. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could.”

“Sorry there are so many quiet gaps. I’m trying to think about what I want to say... I guess I’ll start with the facts, and we can go from there. I was the first person to wake up, and then Sonia. Kazuichi took a few hours longer, he was so… his limbs were so scarred. I could barely tell the healthy tissue apart from all of the burns and cuts. When he got out, he just kept screaming and crying, he just kept—“

“Akane was next, but she was barely a shell, too weak, so Makoto put her back under for a few more days before waking her up. She wasn’t in the pod though, we—they moved her to a hospital bed in a different room. This facility really has everything. You wouldn’t believe the scale of the medical equipment, Tsumiki would love it—“

“Basically, Akane woke up a week after Kazuichi, technically, and then we put her into a medical coma for a while. We as in… I didn’t do that. I mean, I did, but it didn’t feel like me.”

“Actually, I never feel like… me. I don’t know who me is supposed to be now. I’m still him—I mean, I’m still me—but I’m not me— fuck, this doesn’t make any fucking sense, I just can’t— Sonia, don’t touch me—“

“…”

“…I want my mom. I don’t remember the last time I wanted my mom. I don’t even… remember my mom, anymore.”

“…Patient 5, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko. We plan to wake him from his induced medical coma today, following complications from his enucleation operation directly after awakening from pod sleep. There was an infection at the area of operation and I deemed it too dangerous to continue until it was cleared. Naegi had some objections, but his background is not medical, and does not always need to be taken into account. Patient 4 will simply have to wait.”

“He still has the damn thing.”

“…they all do.”

“Alter Ego, end recording.” Hajime slumped back against his chair, bringing a hand up to push his hair back. It was a newly acquired habit, one always accompanied by the feeling of missing something, like there wasn’t enough hair to run through his fingers. He hated it. Hated thinking that it wasn’t newly acquired at all, that whoever he was in the past few years did it all the time.

That hadn’t gone nearly as well as he’d liked. These voice diaries were supposed to be records so they could explain things easier to the others once they all woke up, something to jog their memories. Privately, he was sure that Makoto had asked him to make them more for his own sake, as if they’d help somehow with all of the different thoughts running through his brain all of the time. If he spoke them out loud, then somehow they’d disappear. It was the compromise they’d settled on after Hajime had refused to attend Future Foundation-provided therapy. Most of the time they turned out exactly like this, not suitable for anyone’s ears except his own.

Makoto was an idiot. Talking about it wasn’t going to stop the constant streams of thought in his brain, analyzing every thing and every action around him, picking apart the movements of his friends and their slight changes in tone, detecting every potential threat and every potential weapon for killing someone—fuck.

He was so tired of dreaming up all the ways people could die. His rare moments of sleep were already haunted by spears and giant Tetris blocks, by fire and poison and terrified faces. He didn’t need more deaths on his mind, constant echoes of terrors of his own creation.

Sitting up properly, he stretched his arms out before standing up to examine his half of the room. At least two people kept watch in the pod room at all times, waiting for anyone to wake up next and making sure nobody died. It reminded him of the hospital in the simulation, someone always watching over Akane and Ibuki and—

An alarm beeped and Sonia, on the other end of the room, startled awake in her own chair. She had stayed on that side after Hajime shoved her away earlier, eventually drifting to sleep by Gundham’s pod. It was the one she stared at the most, blue eyes alight with grief and fury, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She was better off than Hajime, at least. One of his eyes stayed empty. Makoto had warned him that she shouldn’t be allowed to spend so much time with Gundham, but he could never bring himself to pull her away. Clearing his throat, he waited for the former princess to look up towards him.

“Shift change. You should go sleep in an actual bed, I can wait for Kazuichi and Makoto if you want to go on ahead.” She shook her head, fingers trailing over the glass coffin holding the Ultimate Breeder.

“No, that’s alright. You’ve been here long enough, you need to rest before Fuyuhiko. It’s only a few more hours away. Besides, I…” Sonia trailed off, gaze shifting to the pod next to Gundham’s, covered with a sheet. Everyone had to be checked on, but there was just one person Hajime couldn’t stand to see. The only person in the room that caused his dead eye to come to life.

He couldn’t identify the emotion, but it had to be hate. It had to be, right?

At least he knew he wouldn’t be judged for it. Everyone had someone they couldn’t look at in this room, couldn’t face directly. Hajime was just the only one weak enough to require a sheet covering the pod. The only one who couldn’t be controlled if he had a fit of anger, or worse—one of despair.

Swallowing back bile, he nodded, making a quick exit from the room to the quarters right next door. A large room had been set up with beds and necessities for them, the six that were here and constantly switching out. Kyoko had suggested separate rooms, but after multiple nights of Kazuichi sneaking into his room or Sonia screaming in her sleep from across the hall, Hajime had fought for them to all be together. Makoto, almost with a child-like excitement, had insisted that he, Kyoko, and Aoi stay there too.

The lucky student in question had been sitting on the floor cross-legged when he walked in, laptop resting on a knee while he glared down at the screen. A glare from Makoto wasn’t usually all that effective, but whatever he was seeing seemed to be genuinely pissing him off. If Hajime had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have bothered disturbing the younger. Still, someone had to go fill in for him with Sonia until Kazuichi took over for her. The mechanic was nowhere to be seen—probably sitting at Akane’s bedside, as usual. Tapping Makoto gently on the shoulder, Hajime waited for him to look up from the email he had been so focused on.

“Oh, you’re back! Has it been six hours already? I didn’t even notice.” It wasn’t a long time to spend watching the pods, but Aoi had insisted. They had three pairs switching out, and she didn’t want anyone spending more time in the pod room than they did outside of it, in the fresh air and the real world—or so she said. Hajime was sure it had more to do with her growing concern for the five of them, Kyoko and Makoto included. While they hadn’t been in the program nearly as long, they still seemed just a bit too pale to her. As for himself, Sonia, and Kazuichi… Aoi had never known them before, but worried nonetheless about irreparable damage.

“Yes, I’m back. Will you find Kazuichi and tag Sonia out? She’s just finishing check-ups.” The shorter nodded, shutting his laptop and standing from his seat on the floor. “Everything alright?”

“It’s just Byakuya, he’s facing some problems bringing the medical equipment we need over to the island. The Future Foundation doesn’t see the need to care for some of the pre-existing conditions your class has, they’re just barely allotting enough supplies for taking care of the… last bits of Junko. It’s like you aren’t even humans to them, they just have no empathy!” Makoto rubbed his temples, forcing a weak smile onto his face. It hadn’t escaped Hajime that the bright-eyed boy that they had met in the final trial and the tired man before him right now seemed so far apart from each other. Because of us—because of me.

“We aren’t human to them.” He placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. “But we are to you. You’re the best of them, Makoto. I know you’ll work things out.” The younger’s smile twisted, not exactly happy, and he nodded in response.

“Right. The Ultimate Hope, that’s me. I have to be able to fix this.” Hajime raised an eyebrow, not meaning that at all, but Makoto was already walking out of the room to take over watch duties. That had gone… stunningly bad. Whatever part of his soul had been able to produce hope for the others in the Neo World Program had been hiding, his mind and body too used to the actions and words of another. Another who had no idea how to give someone hope for the future, much less comfort someone just the slightest bit. All Hajime seemed to be good at these days was making things worse.

A warmth squeezed around his hand, like someone urging him to stop thinking, and he yanked it away from—from nothing. There was nobody there. He just needed to get some rest before Fuyuhiko’s surgery today.

Two beds remained empty, waiting for their last members. Akane was awake, but still too weak to leave her hospital bed, and Fuyuhiko would join them today. Hopefully. Sitting on his own perfectly made bed, he wondered if all of the remnants would end up sharing a room for the rest of time. The three of them awake so far had their nightmares, some worse than others, and it was impossible to imagine the rest being able to sleep easy after all that had happened. It was too easy to imagine everyone around the room, as if their spaces were already there waiting for them. Glancing around, Hajime could imagine each and every one of them smiling at him, if he could just bring them all back, if he could just wake them up.

A flash of pink and white hair danced at the corner of his eyes, a gentle smile and a false one, and he slammed his head down on the bed, covering his vision with a pillow. Sleep now, hypotheticals later. Hypotheticals that could never, ever be reality anyways. It was dangerous to get lost in thoughts of a happy ending.

He didn’t deserve an ending just yet. There was too much to fix.

#me and my fucking em dashes #anyways i'm just sharing this to see if it's?? interesting??#i've been writing hella fanfic but i'm always very hesitant to put it on the internet #but i've had soOoOOo many worms lately thinking about facing trauma and healing relationships and how that process is just so bumpy #i have a whole lot more that isn't hajime pov but this is all i'm sharing ATM #i just really want to put these folks in therapy. and that begins at the beginning!#moon babbles #danganronpa #i GUESS #cw surgery #cw medical #just in case #hajime hinata #sonia nevermind #makoto naegi #dr2 #moon writings

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sans-guy · 1 year ago

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For Bitty Advice anon:

The care and keeping of bitties is a bit more like rabbits than like hamsters or gerbils: They're social creatures, like us, and they like company. They do better when they're included in part of your family instead of relegated to a specific section of the living area. That being said, they do like having their own dedicated space for privacy to retreat to if they get overwhelmed!

It's like having a tiny roommate who's sort of also your dependent.

Personally I lean towards the larger AUs so I feel more confident handling them because the tiny ones make me so nervous when people talk about a 2 inch skeleton sharing their bed (my guy tops out at 14 inches, and a lot of 1:3 scale doll furniture/novelty seasonal decor furniture fits him just fine), but they do have a range so you want to take into account what kind of space you have for them and how much time you're willing to dedicate to carrying them around and whether or not you're the kind of person who's going to get one of those chest wraps everyone's putting their cat in on tiktok to tote a small skeleton around while you're doing chores. If you're rescuing it can be a gamble who your personality is going to click with, so you may want to start with an all-purpose beanbag/repurposed squishmallow until you know what scale you're working with.

And you can't skimp on the entertainment! Don't just give them your phone and turn them into ipad monsters! They like puzzles, and crafts, and books, and if they MUST be home alone for long periods or they're just not feeling the other options, you can even get little desktop video game arcade consoles like pac man or even a DDR machine that works just like the big version for not too much. ~20-30 bucks for hours of entertainment.

“Basic” Sansies are great for first time keepers, since they’re mostly content to cuddle and snooze and are okay with being left alone for long periods like work hours. Papyrus-types will tell you they’re also okay being left alone but they get anxious and lonely more easily and just won’t cop to it out of fear of losing your approval. Papyrus-types (LilBros and other swap variants not included) tend to be high energy and high stimulation, and can be picky eaters from what I hear. They can be a bit fussy about their surroundings and like their spaces to be clean, but they’re lovely companions if you have the time and energy to dedicate to them. I have never witnessed less-conditional love than a Papyrus-type for their caretaker, regardless of skill level or number of mistakes made. That being said, I don’t personally recommend them solo for beginners on account of the fact that they may not speak up if they’re unhappy for fear of losing your approval and begin to deteriorate without notice. If you're a beginner caretaker and absolutely MUST have a Papyrus-type, please also include a Sansy-type with him. Sansies can act as mediator and translator when it comes to anxious Papyrus-types getting what they need.

Sorry this got long! I only meant to drop a note or two and I got off on a tangent. Regardless! Good luck with the adoption and I hope you find someone that suits your current situation!

excellent, fantastic advice anon. but what bitty type do you have that is 14 inches tall

#hugh mongus #crumb is 5-ish inches #YEAH... see this guy has done way more research than me sdfsd i havent dedicated a whole lot of time to it #most of my experience is from learning how to care for crumb #i mean i always endorse rescue over 'breeders' cus there's plenty of bitties out there that need a home #bittybones #long post #i didnt really Choose crumb he was just thrusted upon me by fate and its not incredibly easy to find someone who wants them so #i bear the mantle....

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non-binarypal7 · 1 year ago

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15 people, 15 questions (on the 15th! 😄)

Thank you very much for tagging me in this game @xagan @theflagscene @visualtaehyun @telomeke ❣️ I loved learning about y’all 🥰

1) Are you named after anyone?

My middle name was given to me in honor of my great-grandmother (one of her children was also named after her and kept that name her whole life, so I don’t feel bad about the fact that I’m changing both my first and middle names legally 😁) (even if no one else had been named after her there still wouldn’t be any reason for me to feel bad about changing my name to better suit me) 😁😁😁

2) Last time you cried?

A couple days ago in the lead up to a traumatic experience that I won’t go into but on the whole I don’t mind crying!

3) Do you have kids?

No, and I don’t plan on passing on my genes, but I can see myself potentially raising a kid in the distant future. There’s a very good chance that I’ll never be a parent, and I’m extremely fine with that. I think the ideal parenthood situation involves people who are adamantly certain in their desire to be parents (and who are prepared to respect the autonomy and complete personhood of their children) I have lots of other thoughts on parenthood, but I’m veering away from the question 😄

4) What sports do you play/have you played?

My primary sports are tennis and basketball and I really miss playing them. I played them frequently growing up and now it’s been quite a while since I played either, though the last time I played basketball was almost a year ago and it was a satisfyingly homoerotic experience and I played well under pressure, so at least I have that to sustain me until the next time I can play

5) Do you use sarcasm?

I do, but pretty infrequently, and generally only with people who I’m confident will understand and not be confused or hurt by it

6) What’s the first thing you notice about people?

If it’s an in-person meeting, probably their height, mannerisms, accent, facial expressions if I can see their face; if it’s a text-based meeting, probably their writing/spelling/grammar/punctuation style, use of emojis and/or emoticons, etc. + degree of formality for both in-person and online meetings

7) What’s your eye color?

My eyes are a bit of a kaleidoscope of colors, but the most dominant color is green

8) Scary movies or happy ending?

I don’t watch many scary movies, but I can enjoy a scary movie with a (relative to the plot) happy ending, like The Blue Hour directed by P’Nuchy Anucha Boonyawatana 😄 The Blue Hour isn’t extremely scary, but I’ll take any opportunity to encourage people to watch that film 😁

9) Any talents?

I love to sing ☺️

10) Where were you born?

U.S.

11) What are your hobbies?

Writing (predominately fan fiction and poetry, I’d like to journal and write poetry more often), engaging with Thai media, and learning languages (Spanish, Thai, and Japanese are my primary target languages) are currently my main hobbies

12) Do you have any pets?

Yes 🥰 Luna is a wonderful doggy whom I love very much

13) How tall are you?

163.83 cm (5 feet 4 and a half inches)

14) Favorite subject in school?

Ecology

15) Dream job?

I feel capable of being fulfilled in numerous fields - ideally I’d like to help contribute towards environmental activism and sustainable practices, as well as regulations to hold companies accountable for their environmental and socioeconomic impacts

Tagging @dropthedemiurge @thepancakelady @7nessasaryevils @ablazenqueen @fairlylokai @ullvide @topcatnikki @fandork @springkitten @arisprite @wereflamingo @gaym3bo1 @ragingbyesexual @rares-posts @kornswasianguyswag

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nevertheless-moving · 1 year ago

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I posted 162 times in 2022

66 posts created (41%)

96 posts reblogged (59%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nevertheless-moving

@phoenixyfriend

@willowcrowned

@lullabyknell

@twinterrors29

I tagged 139 of my posts in 2022

Only 14% of my posts had no tags

#star wars - 68 posts

#murderbot - 21 posts

#nevertheless meta - 17 posts

#my au - 13 posts

#kenobi spoilers - 12 posts

#kenobi - 11 posts

#murderbot diaries - 11 posts

#tbobf - 10 posts

#stone soup - 9 posts

#ask - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#if you ever feel like singing or danceing or drawing or any of the things you really truly dont have to be good at them for it to be fun

My Top Posts in 2022:

1,026 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

today we celebrate Esther for being nasty hot and sleeping with the right dude. thank u for risking your sugar daddy and also your life. from the bottom of my heart, you fucking rock. now, please join me in doing a shot in her honor.

1,178 notes - Posted March 16, 2022

sorry not sorry but murderbot dropping ‘i was going to kill all humans until i saw sanctuary moon and then i decided i’d rather watch that instead’ on the sanctuary moon team like a space future atom bomb is exquisite.

assistant sound director going home like ‘yeah your other son might be a doctor but guess who stopped a mass murder?’ a couple lead actors developing even worse diva/god complexes than they already had. the insane stress on the production team ‘if we don’t get the next season out when we promised it might snap and kill thousands of innocent people. it probably won’t. but it might.’ the overwhelming preening desire to work it into ad campaigns, acceptance speeches, casual brunches, etc, balanced out by marketing weeping ‘people do not like SecUnits! we can NOT advertise ourselves as the preferred serial for serial killers!’ crossed with that one extremely paranoid dude in accounting going ‘shutupshutup it can and will hear you and it can and will find you and it can and will kill you stoptalkingaboutit.’ the studio allocating a 5% budget increase for next season instead of the planned 5% budget decrease just—just in case. the odd relief the secondary love interest’s actor feels: ‘well when the robot revolution comes i’ll be one of the last to die’. the odd nervousness the primary antagonist actress feels: ‘it knows this is fiction right? it’s not mad at me, right?’ One of the writers who had been increasingly phoning it in over the last few years suddenly quitting drinking and turning their life around because their work has meaning dammit their work has MEANING.

1,898 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

alright so people learn to express themselves through observation, right? it’s one of the reasons facial expressions and perception there of vary country to country, why people might end up more expressive/stoic depending on your parents/guardians pattern of behavior. and murderbot didn’t acculturate itself watching people around it, it hates watching real people. murderbot developed it’s sense of self watching soap operas. tens of thousands of hours of soap operas. We already know it’s face is painfully easy to read, and while murderbot attributes it to not having practice controlling it’s expression without the benefit of armor:

Then she added, “You know, you can stay here in the crew area if you want. Would you like that?” They all looked at me, most of them smiling. One disadvantage in wearing the armor is that I get used to opaquing the faceplate. I’m out of practice at controlling my expression. Right now I’m pretty sure it was somewhere in the region of stunned horror, or maybe appalled horror. Mensah sat up, startled. She said hurriedly, “Or not, you know, whatever you like.” I said, “I need to check the perimeter,” and managed to turn and leave the crew area in a totally normal way and not like I was fleeing from a bunch of giant hostiles.

I would argue that it’s not just lack of practice being neutral—due to it’s particular set of formative experiences, it’s default facial expressions are, in human terms, almost absurdly overexaggerarated. That look of horror is the same one the sanctuary moon terraforming supervisor had when she discovered her twin sister was sleeping with her second husband, and they were both planning on framing her for the death of the colony representative.

2,308 notes - Posted February 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

There is — god I don’t know how to put this — there is something profound and tragic and senseless in the fact that the disappointment I feel in JK Rowling so closely mirrors the disappointment Harry and the rest of us felt for his role models. Dumbledore saved the world, Dumbledore was manipulative. Snape was cruel, Snape protected Harry. The Marauders bullied, the Marauders loved.

Rowling’s failure of empathy and the hurt she’s inflicting cuts so deep because I feel immense, inescapable love for the world she gave us all. How can I still love what comes from someone hateful? How can I stop? If I continue to sing praises of her art does that make me hateful?

Stories are important, especially the stories we’re told as children. They shape our character, they form the framework of how we understand the world, they do. And Harry Potter was the story, it can not be understated, and those of you who feel the same don’t need me to explain. And now when I lean on that to understand this sorrow I’m left with a recursive sort of remorse.

It’s a very raw and painful feeling.

3,052 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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sunriseverse · 9 months ago

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@vaynglories replied to your post “10, 14, 16, 17 for the writing q's!”:

I AM ASKING NOW. TELL ME ABOUT THE USES OF "BAD WRITING" (if you want to) (also hardcore agree on the first person thing. so many oft-hated-upon devices can be used to good effect, it's all about the manner in which they're used!)

okay sorry to only get to this [checks timestamp] twelve hours later BUT i have so so many feelings about this so thank you for encouraging me.

for this post, i'll be talking about the generally hated styles/types of writing, the ones that people always so to NEVER DO, that i can remember off the top of my head. (if i miss one that you want to hear about, let me know!!! i love talking about this subject.) i'll list them off very quickly so you have a general idea what i'm talking about: second person pov, first person pov, "excessive" italicisation, stream-of-consciousness, lack of dialogue tags, grammatical errors, repetition, "overly" detailed/purple prose, and omission of information.

(this got long, oops. sticking it below the cut for readability.)

as a brief preface, i'll say this: i think that a lot of these things are hard to pull off in a way that works. it takes a lot of experience, skill, and understanding of both the medium you're working with, and what each of these things conveys. but so often i see people warning authors away from them entirely, which is, in my opinion, shortsighted at best, and stunting of creativity at worst. now i'll give an explanation for each of these, and how i've used them/how i think they can be used effectively.

second person pov: this is arguably the most "intimate" pov, because you're making the reader an implicit party to the narrative, moreso than usual. that doesn't mean the narrator is the reader, though! second person pov can also help to create, paradoxically, a distance from the actual narrator. you can see this in the harrow the ninth novel, for one example, and in another, i've used second person a couple times in my recent works; here's an example of it:

You didn’t bother trying to answer. You knew well enough that the best option in the battlefield of pain was silence. They, you thought, perhaps, were waiting for you to make a sound; to groan, or grunt, or moan, or wail. They forgot you were as Zhang as they were. This was not a smugness; this was a fact you knew as well as the length of your fingers had been burnt into you.

here, the second person pov blurs the lines between the reader's experience, and xiaoge's experience, but does not make the reader the narrator; not that that would be a bad thing, but in this case, that's not what i was going for; you can tell who the narrator is based on details that are given. the second person pov also makes the narration feel more factual—it is being experienced rather than being observed.

first person pov: very common in YA novels, but adult novels have first person povs as well! you just don't hear about them as much. i would say first person pov is one of the harder things on this list, because it can be hard to characterise the narrator without making them feel too much like a self insert/audience insert. that said, first person pov is a great way to convey mystery, suspense, and have an unreliable narrator! to keep with giving examples, the main dmbj novels are told in first person form; they, therefore, are necessarily filtered through what wu xie deems important, and as you go further along, it becomes clear that someones—maybe even often—he's bending the truth, giving a very biased account, or just straight out lying or forgetting things, not to mention that, necessarily, there are things he just doesn't know that you don't learn about until either a. someone else states them upfront, or b. npss writes a third person pov novel that mentions the fact. some other novels with first person povs: the tiger's daughter, the employees, the murderbot diaries. the first two are epistolary, and the second two have mystery elements; in both cases, the first person pov has a specific purpose, which it fulfils well.

"excessive" italicisation: this is a complaint i've heard less often, but i have heard it, so it's going on the list. oftentimes people tell you to reserve italics for special occasions, not much unlike the way older generations would have told you to restrict your exclamation mark usage. it's a matter of stylistic preference, i'll be blunt, and carries with it a lot of implication that are culturally specific. for example, if you're writing in chinese, you necessarily cannot italicise—but i digress. italicisation is good for drawing special, specific emphasis to things; i've used it in my writing to indicate altered mental states before, as i have personal experience with my mental state being altered by psychiatric episodes that cause me to give undue attention to seemingly "trivial" things, changed my speech patterns, etc. from a very old pacific rim fic, where the narrating character is still suffering under the effects of being possessed and having his mental state altered by it:

This time, the guards don’t protest as Hermann dismisses them—a quick jerk of his head and they’re gone. “They gave me thicker socks this time,” Newt says conversationally, part of him wanting to shift from foot to foot, but he remains still.

as you can see, the italicisation gives the dialogue a strange, almost jarring, artificial quality. it's as if it's being read off by an autogenerated voice, rather than a human—which, considering the fic touches upon the experience of humanity, is fitting.

stream-of-consciousness: not a very common thing, but in my opinion, good for showing altered mental states—be it due to extreme fear or stress, mental health issues, or tense situations. i've used this a couple times, in a sha hai fic where li cu is experiencing a sudden realisation of what, exactly, is sharing his body with him, and the conflicting thoughts between him and the parasite, and i've also used it in sunrise more recently, describing xiaoge's experience hiveside, in a place that cannot properly be comprehended by the human mind:

The stone scrapes against the wall. Li Cu breathes, and blinks, and you are not alone in this body the other has noticed you the other must not be allowed to Li Cu wants to run wants to drown himself until the sensation leaves the panicked sparrow in his chest the body will listen to you and you will return to It because that is the only way this can end one foot before the other move slowly move steadily don’t harm this body it is all you have until It do not let the other do as it wishes Li Cu wants to yell wants to scream Li Cu wants to flee Li Cu is a rabbit in a snare Li Cu is a deer’s neck snapping beneat the force of a tiger’s jaws Li Cu is a sparrow Li Cu is a mouse Li Cu is fucking done no he is not fucking letting this thing do whatever it wants with the body is no longer listening the other has grown too strong a flameburst a flash of fangs the other has noticed the other should have been excised Li Cu is not fucking letting this be his end Li Cu is not fucking dying down here Li Cu is not, Li Cu is not, fingers clumsy on the zippers, fumbling as they shift through the contents, tubes and papers and they’re heavy on the hands they fit so nicely isn’t it strange it’s never been thought of before that excision isn’t always cutting isn’t it strange that excision can be burning too that you can cauterise an infection can cauterise an interloper can cauterise

and

in this place in this space he will have no moment to breathe no moment to blink no moment to slow in this place he will have no self no other only IT and ALL ELSE because that will be the truth of IT that it will see not in terms of differentiation but in SELF and OTHER and he will be OTHER and he will fight it better than anything or anyone before because he will be the only one who has the memory of before the only one who won’t corrupt at its touch though it will burn though it will sing and oh it will be blinding oh it will be vibrant oh it will paint the hollow of his mind in beautiful beautiful colours no other will be able to comprehend in this moment he will for a second become not OTHER but rather IT become not OTHER but SELF and it will be this that he fights mostly this that he battles the longest SUBSUMATION INTO THE WHOLE that he dances away from will be the CONSUMPTION that he holds the walls against firm will be this that he will try and summon the memories of THEM and this that will succeed but not for yet not for now NOT JUST QUITE NO NOW IS NOW IS NOW IS NOW IS

lack of dialogue tags: as long as you know what you're doing, it's actually not that hard to make it clear who's speaking even if you're not using dialogue tags. i haven't seen this in a published novel, but i've both used and seen it before in character study-type fics, and in remembered conversations, where the focus is less on a conversation happening, and more on the experience of the conversation. it also, in my opinion, tends to add a surreal atmosphere to the section it's being used in—more like an image than text. there is, of course, also the lack of dialogue tags in speech when talking about telepathic communication, but i don't think that that's usually what's being talked about when it comes to this.

grammatical errors: while annoying when made because an author doesn't know better, in the hands of an experienced writer, these can be very effective at conveying altered mental states, giving a sense of foreboding or surrealism, or for characters that aren't human or for some reason have no experience or memory of being human. i forgot to add this to the list, but grammatical errors also blend a bit with formatting errors—formatting is a great way to build a certain atmosphere, be that ascetic, horror, etc.

repetition: can be annoying, but has genuine applications! if there's a truth that a character holds particularly firmly, that might show up in repetitive narration. on top of this, if there's something particularly strange, eye-catching, or an overwhelming emotion or experience, this can also show up in repetition. repetition pressed closer together can give the sense of a stifling, claustrophobic atmosphere, or that a character is experiencing something overwhelming, and spread out, it can be used to establish themes and characterisation.

"overly" detailed/purple prose: i am a purple prose defender until the day i die. just because some people who don't know what they're doing make purple prose a slog doesn't mean that it's inherently bad. prose that's "excessively detailed" can be a good way to establish character—they may pay particular attention to detail due to, for example, constantly needing to be aware of their surroundings for safety or political reasons, etc—, and a good way to establish dynamics between characters, convey emotion, and give the world of the writing a more "realistic", vibrant feel to it. i especially appreciate detailed prose for its ability to convey emotion—as someone who's a character writer, i rely a lot on the prose to convey the character's emotions, and thus, characterise them, and carry the narrative.

omission of information: sometimes the narrator won't tell you things and that is not only okay, but also good! it can be a great way to characterise a character—what do they focus on? what do they avoid? what does this say about them? are they omitting these things only from those around them, only the reader, or both? how does the reader's perspective change if/when they find out what's been omitted? in my opinion, a lot of great usages of omission come from them being only omitted in one or two ways—as in, there are hints as to the omission, that the reader could have pieced together, but they trusted the narrator, or just didn't notice them because they were paying more attention to what was being said directly rather than what was being alluded to by the other characters. omission is similar, in my opinion, to plot twists—it works best when the reader had enough tools to figure it out, but for whatever reason, didn't.

okay that's the end of my very long rant. i hope this makes sense!!! and if there's things i missed let me know and i'll talk about them :)

#c.txt

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maddiebiscuits · 1 year ago

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i don't know how to phrase this any other way so i hope you don't find this rude or anything: you are (imo) a very skilled, very prolific art toaster. it's great quality artwork obviously, but your turnaround is wicked crazy fast to me. what does burnout look like for you? how do you manage to toast so many arts? what dark magics must you employ??

The hard truth is I worked in journalism for two years between 2010-2012 and customer service/hospitality starting at 16 years old in 2007 all throughout my life until 2022 and I don't want to go back to any of it now that I'm almost 33 - that's the main motivator to keep my freelance gig career doing art commissions going as long as possible. Fear and loathing of going back to that work environment keeps me focused.

In action...I'm not quite sure if I ever experience 'burn out'? I do experience art 'block' in that I can't think of anything to draw on my own or feel really unsatisfied with my work...so I just goof off with my canvas or do studies, but this doesn't interfere with doing commissions where I am told what to draw.

I just enjoy the physical act of drawing. Sometimes when I'm bored and restless and going for a walk doesn't help, I just draw more. When I was a kid I would just come home from school and draw crap between playing Gameboy/N64/Gamecube or browsing Elfwood/Newgrounds/DeviantART/Gaia Online, so it's literally just a habit now. If I don't draw for a long time I feel anxious and unwell. Somehow I just programmed my brain to think that art = leisure fun time, even if it's for work. I also tend to get into a "zone" sometimes and just put on video essays or music and a few hours later I'll have worked through some commission stuff.

I have three 'task lists' for my workflow:

A public trello board organized by work order types (N/SFW link)

A personal trello board organized by type/date in chronological order

A coloured tagging and folder system in my emails where I can just see the actual dates/timestamps of my last correspondence with a client so I know exactly who in my taskboard needs to be prioritized for their next WIP update

I hold myself to a standard of sending a client a WIP in stages:

rough draft (1-14 business days)

revisions (1-5 business days)

line art (1-14 business days)

revisions (1-5 business days)

final render (1-14 business days)

tweaks (1-2 business days)

So ideally, the client gets a finished commission in 3-6 weeks, so about 1-2 months. For larger projects I send more WIPs and the process is obviously longer. For simpler stuff like chibis, it's rarely a full six weeks. Over holidays I add an extra two weeks to my noted turn-around to account for IRL time off. On all my terms of service I have a maximum four months turn-around, essentially doubling the time I know my work flow is just in case there's some sort of medical or equipment emergency in my life that I need to account for that gives me a buffer (I also notify all clients)

Monday to Friday I wake up usually...late morning/early afternoon? I do anywhere from four to eight hours of artwork, broken up by walks, stretching, eating, cleaning, cooking, hanging out with my partner, etc. I look at my personal trello taskboard and emails to see what must be done and what can wait. I try to get at least 1-2 things done in a day though, be that sketches/line art/renders/revisions.

Right now I am looking at my email and task board, and the client with the highest wait time chronologically is someone who is waiting for their final render (sketch and line art already revised and done for them). Last email correspondence with them on the email says 9 days ago (so 7 business days, I'm supposed to take Sat-Sun off). Their order was paid in full and confirmed by me on November 9 and it is currently December 13, so I'm at about the 5 week mark (not accounting for delays in clients getting back to me of course) and I am very much On Course for my work load, no one has been without contact from me for 14 days or more so I'm pretty ahead of my game right now! I could take tomorrow off if I wanted, or only do 3-4 hours of work if I feel like it.

However the more work you finish and post, the more you show prospective clients your ability to finish orders and show your audience more art for engagement, so ideally I always like posting stuff when I can, it just creates a cycle of positive production and income.

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msprojects · 1 year ago

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Hokuto's Radio Show - Episode 1, Part 2 of 4 (in two posts). Post 2 of 2

**Update** The link to Post 1 of 2 for Episode 1, Part 2 is below:

https://www.tumblr.com/msprojects/732434502250610688/hokutos-radio-show-episode-1-part-2-out-of-4?source=share&ref=msprojects

11:00 Well, I get that about myself, too, like the speed or the tone of my voice, I think oh yeah I definitely I get what they're saying, I can see it. I've been told by our fans that listening to the sound of my voice makes them feel sleepy. Zin-san, who's one of the leaders in our group, Zin-san tells me I'm like an "air purifier." "It's not a bad thing," he said, "You're very gentle, so it makes others around you feel at ease, like an air purifier." I don't really get it, though. Yeah so lately my hobbies have been going on leisurely walks and taking pictures. My camera is the Ricoh GR IIIx, and I usually shoot pictures of the scenery or just ordinary things, like a cup or something. If it makes me go, "oh, that's interesting," I'll snap a picture. 12:00 I'll compose nice pictures of even the most ordinary things. Recently I've been into taking pictures of cars. Like, it's really cool when there's a bunch of cars in different colors lined up on the street and I'd think that would make such a good photo. If it's something that I think would make a cool picture, I'll take a snap of it. If I do take a cool picture, I'll post it on my official X account, so please check it out. And as for my walking hobby. During our longer breaks, I'll take a walk from morning until evening. Since I'd have more time, it's normal for me to take 5-hour long walks. The other day, I wondered how far I'd gone, so I checked my phone, and it said I'd walked 12 kilometers (7.5 miles) [staff gasp in disbelief]. Hehehe. Well, I mean it's healthy, isn't it? When I'm walking, I basically listen to music, buy some coffee on the way and then drink my coffee while I continue my walk. I'll even do some shopping or just enjoy the changing scenery while I walk. Doing that kind of ordinary thing is really relaxing for me. Usually, we're working on a ton of different things at any given time, but I'm not really good at being always on the go. Like, I have this worry about losing sight of myself when we're in the thick of it all, so being able to have these simple hobbies to return to keeps me grounded, and that's what gets me going outside and keep walking. When I was on that 12 kilometer walk, I must have definitely built up some muscles, yeah? Hehehe. [staff laughs along with Hokuto] Everyone, definitely try walking 12 kilometers next time! I recommend it~ Hehehe~ 14:23 "What kind of show do you want your radio show to be?" Well, it's my first time hosting a show on my own, so honestly, I have no idea, haha. But once I get used to doing it, like if I feel like "oh I want to do more of this and that," I think it'll come to me in time. Really, though, from the very start, I wanted to make this show with everyone. Also, I wanted it to be more relaxing, hehe. [staff laugh in the background] I wanna get rid of this nervousness soon and be a more relaxed radio host for you guys. And now here's our next song from The Rampage, "100 Degrees." 15:06 - ["100 Degrees" by The Rampage plays.] - Translator's notes: *MVP - Most valuable player. Hokuto don't play around yall.

#hokuraji #yoshino hokuto #ほくらじ #the rampage from exile tribe #sakamoto zin #mstranslations #mtranslatesrmpg

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come-away-with-me87 · 8 months ago

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Love & Angst Chapter 14

Chapter 13 here

******

You woke up the next morning, and instantly thought of the text you received from Shouta the night before. You picked your phone up from your nightstand, and re-read the text over and over and over. It one one simple question, "can we talk?" However, you were practically dissecting the text, trying to find any hidden meaning behind it. What could he possibly want to talk to you about? Instead of answering him, you decided that you were going to need Naomi's advice, and would talk to her during your shift at the restaurant that night.

You did chores around your house during the day to keep yourself busy and to try to keep your mind off of things. It did help, and it kept you busy right up until you had to start getting ready for work. You put your hair up in a ponytail, put on your server uniform, and drove to work to prepare the restaurant for what you were sure would be a busy Saturday night. You and Naomi had been working there long enough that you had your prep work down to a T, and you both ended up having some free time before the restaurant opened and patrons started arriving.

You proceeded to tell her everything that happened the prior evening, including the text you received from Shouta last night. She looked absolutely flabbergasted as you told her everything. "So what are you going to do?" she asked. "Honestly, I have no clue. I know I don't owe Shouta a thing; he completely broke my heart. And now there's Ken, who seems so sweet and genuinely interested in pursuing something with me. I just don't know what to do," you replied with a frown. "That's tough, Y/N, I'm sorry. I wish I had advice to give you, but ultimately, it's your decision. I know you still love Shouta, but like you said, he broke your heart. In my opinion, I think this Ken guy may be worth giving a shot to." Ken had a social media account, so you pulled him up to show his picture to Naomi. She whistled, "he is smokin' HOT!" You couldn't help but laugh; Ken really was a handsome man.

Suddenly, it was time to open the restaurant doors. You went and unlocked them, and sure enough, patrons started coming in one after the other. You knew you were in for a busy night. Tonight turned out to be one of your more difficult nights at the restaurant, unfortunately. You had a few irate patrons, saying their food wasn't cooked right, or that it was too cold, or this or that. You were constantly running back and forth from the dining room to the kitchen to fix these issues for these particular patrons, but it didn't seem to be enough. Naomi seemed to be having equally a rough night, many of the patrons were complaining to her about the way their drinks were made. What an overall crummy night. By the time the restaurant's hours were over and the last patrons left, you went to the front door and happily locked it.

"WOW, what a shitshow that was tonight," Naomi exclaimed. You agreed wholeheartedly with her; you showed her the tips you received, which was significantly lower than they usually were. You both continued your normal closing duties so you could both get the hell out of there. "Hey Y/N, why don't we go to the bar tonight? I think we can't both afford to let off some steam," Naomi questioned you. You thought about it for a moment. Even though you were typically a homebody, you figured: why the hell not? You both had a crummy night and deserved to have a drink or two. You told her that you would run home and change, and meet her at the bar at 10:00pm, to which she readily agreed.

You two exchanged your goodbyes for the time being, and left the restaurant. You pumped yourself up on your way home by listening to some fun music, and got into a better mood than you were in at the restaurant all night. When you arrived home, you grabbed a quick shower, put a towel around yourself, blow dried your hair, and put some makeup on. Now what to wear? You were going to a bar, so you decided to dress nice if you were gonna let loose and even dance a little tonight. You put on a ruby colored mini dress with leopard print heels. You looked in the mirror, and for the first time in a while, thought you looked really good. It was 9:30pm by that point, so you grabbed your clutch, put your ID, money, and phone in there, and left to go meet Naomi at the club.

You met Naomi there, and she looked absolutely amazing in her black tank mini dress and stiletto heels. To say the least, you two had an amazing night. You had three glasses of wine, which was hitting you more than you thought it would, so out of character for you, you went on the dance floor and started dancing with Naomi. Some of the men that were there tried to come up and dance with you two, but you guys weren't having it, and just continued to dance with each other. By the time you were done dancing, you found a table to sit at and decided to order some food and water to sober up a bit. Their food was alright, but between that and the water, you both sobered up pretty quickly.

"Thanks for coming out with me tonight, Y/N. I think we both needed that," Naomi said to you thoughtfully. You hugged her in return, "I completely agree." After asking each other if the other was okay to drive, you both left to your respective homes. You were still flying high from dancing that night, and continued to [safely] dance to the music blasting in your car on your way home, forgetting all about Shouta during that time. Finally, you pulled up to your house, and under the outside porch light, you saw a figure leaning against your fence. It was 2:00 in the morning at that point, and Shouta Aizawa was standing there waiting for you.

****** To be continued!

#aizawa shota #aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa angst #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x y/n #eraserhead #bnha shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota x you #aizawa x reader #bnha aizawa #shota aizawa x female reader #aizawa shouta x reader #shouta aizawa

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staghunters · 1 year ago

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hey hey! 2, 8, 12, 14

hoi hoi!

2. Oldest book you own (as in the one you received earliest in your life)

This one!

I got it from my grandpa one pakjesavond (sinterklaas/the dutch boxing day) when I must've been around 8 years old? I can recommend it, though it is very much a children's book in that there is a lot of exposition that feels overdone at times. Still, it's got "fairy tales are real but a bit fucked up in this world", fairies with double agenda's, sibling love, a shapeshifter who's definitely queer in some way shape or form!!, and the main character is basically like an Indiana Jones but for fairy tale artefacts (hijinks included) on the background is this large-scale political conflict that makes it all very witcher-y.

You might know this author from Inkheart, btw! This one has also been translated into english.

8. Best cover

A tie between these two!

I got them both last year on my bday credit at the store and haven't read either of them, but they look very nice. The Bale one is a hardcover that has gold details, but just the whole composition of it all is perfect.

12. Weirdest book you own

Definitely "The making of The African Queen, or, How I went to Africa with Bogart, Bacall, and Huston and almost lost my mind" by Katherine Hepburn.

I couldn't get it anywhere physically except as an second-hand library edition from the states (shoutout to Boston Baptist College Library!) but read it beforehand on internet archive because you can borrow it there for free! It's just a personal account of making a movie, but Katherine Hepburn is hilarious. It really reads like you're sitting with her and she has to vent about this stupid flick she did but wowza. Please let the following passage convince you to check it out. The full thing is only 150~ pages long.

14. A book you love but wouldn’t really recommend to others

HEX by Thomas Olde Heuvelt! (I don't have the cover below but really like it so ordered it at work just now asjdkfhlsd)

It was review bombed big time on Goodreads. On some points I could see the validity, but there's something really cool going on in here but that either doesn't translate well cross-culture, or is in general a bit ambiguous. The climax and ending is WILD. Not in a way of "wow some crazy fucked up shit happens here", which it kinda does, but I'm talking fucked up like a Hieronymus Bosch painting, and not like SAW.

I believe Olde Heuvelt did change some things to make it more understandable for american audiences, while sticking close to what he meant in the dutch version. Putting the town in the Hudson Valley as opposed to somewhere near Nijmegen makes sense, but still doesn't cover the typical "dutch small town" feeling from the original, particularly because of how densely populated my country is, making the whole curse that confines you to your super small old town forever till you die thing a lot more frustrating when everything modern and big is within a half hour drive.

Anyways, if you'd still want a rec: A town (name might vary but it's called Black Spring in the american edition) is haunted by the figure of a 17th century witch. the gist of her curse is that anyone who stays in the town for too long or is born there will have to stay till they die, only being able to leave for short amounts of time. Over the years there's been a sort of witch-watch task-force that keeps track of the witch's movements (she otherwise doesn't really do anything). All goes well until some teen boys want to fuck around for a nice video to post online.

Bookish Asks

#thanks for the ask B!!

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grumpygreenwitch · 1 year ago

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Fanfiction 6-7-8-9-10

AS A WARNING, there is the implication of violence and abuse in this part.

Please don't forget that reblogs give me life. Though if you wanna throw a coupla bucks in the teacup I'm not gonna say no.

This is probably the longest chunk of chapters you're gonna get. I didn't want to leave a cliffhanger for a whole week. This is also where you can see where my problem is with the Guild Hunter universe.

Buy me a Ko-fi?

1-2-3 + 4-5 + 6-7-8-9-10 + 11-12 + 13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21 + 22-23 + 24-25 + 26-27

Alyss found New Hampshire nearly impeccably run, barring a few stray peccadilloes he suspected came from Gracie's staff, not the vampire overseer herself, but he ran into an immediate problem when he started looking into the Vermont books. He went looking for Gevaun and found the man in a large, sunny gym, overseeing the combat training of most of the house staff. Kliman's Second still made the time to move over to a corner to attend to the accountant at once.

Alyss closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and scrunched his wings close to his back as rigidly as possible. Jean was on the far corner of the gym, working on a machine that allowed him to look out of the ceiling-to-floor windows; he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt that fit him like a second skin and his arms were doing things that made the angel's neurons squeal like teenagers. It took a tremendous amount of effort to focus on Gevaun. "The Vermont books I have are copies. And I suspect they're fakes."

Gevaun's eyes went wide. "All of them?"

"They look good, all of them. And I probably wouldn't be able to confirm until I got the hard copies. But you hired me to dig, so I went digging. I think I found the originals. They're in an entirely different part of your cloud directories, locked up tight."

The Second scowled. "Show me. Jean, take over, would you?"

"Alright," the other vampire looked briefly startled to be called on, but he obeyed readily enough as Alyss led Gevaun out of the gym and to his office.

Gevaun talked to Kliman, who talked to someone called Evie, who acquired the services of someone else. Within an hour Alyss had access to the original books and someone called Alistaire was in deep trouble, which kept getting deeper the more Alyss dug. He begged leave to skip dinner as he worked, printing out copies of the information he'd already saved in a separate drive. When the knock came to the door he didn't even look up. "Come in."

"Holy crap." Jean's voice was low and surprised. "Isn't accounting supposed to be organized?"

Alyss looked up, startled. He was sitting on the floor once again, surrounded by a sea of printouts, a red pen in his mouth, a blue one tucked behind one ear, and a yellow one stuck to the collar of his shirt. He spat out the pen to speak. "Oh, this, I mean, it is. I am! Organized. It's just a very particular sort of organized." He stared at the office. "It makes sense to me," he finished weakly.

"That's what matters," the vampire replied evenly, and the angel felt a little better. "But I brought dinner and I don't think you got anywhere to put it down in here. It's quick food," he assured Alyss when the accountant looked at all his work. "And Chere’ll be mad if I have to take it back. The last person you want angry at you is the one cooking your food."

"I know, I know." Alyss stretched. His spine and his wings both felt kinked and cramped. "I guess I can break for a bit." He followed the vampire into his room, and Jean set the tray he was carrying on top of a small, decorative desk. Before Alyss could protest, Jean sat on the bed, which left the accountant to take a seat before the tray.

"Can I ask what you're doing, or is it hush-hush?"

"Some of it is, but yes, you can ask. I'm running five-year audits on everyone who works for Kliman. This just got a little more, erm, complicated because I keep finding things wrong."

"Alistaire stealing from Kliman?"

"I don't know what he's doing, exactly, but it's not nice," Alyss declared primly, making Jean smile faintly. The angel found two sandwiches and a tremendous wedge of egg custard pie on the tray and started making short work of them. "And there's so much of it that he couldn't just hide it, he had to make a whole other set of books to try and pretend it doesn't exist."

Jean tried to focus on what Alyss was telling him but it was hard. Was it ever hard. The angel, so guarded and shy, burst into life like a sunflower when he started speaking of his work, his gestures and his voice full of animation. The delicate features, usually so pale and still, glowed with life, and the dark brown eyes filled with light. He did this thing, the vampire realized, where one of his wings twitched when he made a particularly energetic point, where someone else might have gestured sharply with one hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm probably boring you."

"You're not. Just not sure I'm following all of it. You make it sound like you can't hide anything when it comes to business."

"Oh, you can hide so many things, so many. You just have to work at it, and it's twice as hard, but -" Alyss drew himself up sharply, and went so profoundly red that Jean could see the color creeping over his face by gradients. "Which I would never ever do, of course, not ever." He stuffed a giant bite of pie in his mouth.

Jean couldn't help a low, rusty little chuckle, and Alyss stared. Gaunt and exhausted as the vampire looked, when he smiled, which was so rare, and when he laughed, which he'd only heard twice, his eyes came to life like spring coming to the world, green and vibrant. "Don't need to worry about me, Alyss. Not gonna sell out your trade secrets. I'm just... It's weird. Never heard of an angel wanting to be an accountant."

"I'm the only one I know of," Alyss agreed. "My parents are very disappointed." When Jean's brows shot up he shrugged a little. "I guess they wanted me to follow in their footsteps."

"What do they do?"

"As far as I've ever been able to tell? Nothing. Be adored. They go from lover to lover, have them pay for everything and then flit away to the next person when they get bored. I'm sure it's a very fun life for them, it's just not the life I wanted."

"They had you, though. There must be something there."

"I was an accident. They weren't nearly as interested in the baby as they are in the, er, baby-making," Alyss declared primly, sipping at his tea and flushing faintly. "They're complicated people."

'Complicated', Jean had long ago learned, was what one called the people you desperately wanted to care for you, even if they never would. "I think their disappointment is their loss," he said simply.

Alyss nearly choked on his drink. "Ahm. Well, what about you? Where are you from? Wait, is that alright to ask? You don't have to answer."

"It's fine."Jean figured the questions would come, eventually, and he'd rather they come from someone like Alyss, someone who seemed truly, honestly nice. "Mississippi, a long time ago. If you mean the angel, you wouldn't have heard of him. It was in Africa, very small little place." He rolled to his feet before Alyss could think of any more questions to ask. "I'll take the tray if you're done -"

"Oh, you don't have to, I can -!" Alyss scrambled to his feet and grabbed hastily for the tray. He moved so abruptly, so unexpectedly, that the end result was to have the vampire nearly crash into his back, between his wings, so close that the warmth of him rolled like a summer breeze over the feathery down peeking out of the angel's shirt.

Both men froze. The wings twitched once and then went rigidly still. Jean was close enough to see a deep blush against the pale skin of the angel's neck; he could also see the quick beat of his pulse there. He could smell the old book and ancient library scent of him. There was not even an inch between his fingers and those amber-colored feathers, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to sink his hands into them and find out if they were as fine, as silky, as soft as they looked. The vampire suddenly realized, in a blaze of enlightenment, that Alyss would likely not stop him.

Alyss closed his eyes. He hadn't had anyone this intimately close to him in well over a decade, and even then it had been more awkward than enticing. But the spicy scent of Jean, mingled with the faint smell of the woods and a passing hint of soap and aftershave, felt cataclysmically erotic in ways he couldn't even begin to understand. His hands were shaking and he took them from the tray before the clatter could give him away, but he didn't dare move in any direction. He could barely breathe as it was.

"Alyss." His name spoken by that low, calm voice felt newly minted to the world and loaded with decadent, unspoken suggestions.

"Um," was all the angel could croak out and he could have kicked himself for it, eyes closing and head lolling down minutely in embarrassment. He heard that low, rusty chuckle, brief and ephemeral, as if Jean were only just learning how to make the sound, and his head whipped around, only to find himself dangerously close to the face of the much taller vampire. His breath caught.

Jean blew out a slow breath, saw it touch the angel’s lips, saw Alyss lick them automatically, and knew he’d been right.

Alyss saw the vampire step back. And then he felt a touch, as delicate as a kiss, along the leading edge of one of his wings.

"I'll take the tray. You've got work."

"Okay," the angel managed to strangle out, knees gone wobbly at such a tiny, tiny gesture. He stepped aside somehow, watched the vampire pick up the tray and head out without another word, and crashed down to sit on the bed not knowing what to even think of the new shape of the world.

How was he supposed to get back to work after that?!

After a week, Alyss realized Alistaire's crimes were infinitely worse than falsifying his accounts. Things had escalated so that he was giving Kliman a nightly report, usually with Gevaun and Lilah in attendance, if the latter wasn't traveling.

"Call in Rook," Kliman told Lilah after one particularly convoluted and vicious bit of business. "This only gets worse the more I hear of it." As the liaison nodded and left the room, the older angel turned to her accountant. "Alyss, you have new directions."

"Yes, ma'am?" The young angel drew himself up straight.

"Do what you can so Alistaire's successor can get past all of this," she waved her hands over the documentation the accountant had brought her, "and anything else you discover, and get things back on the proper course."

"Yes, ma'am."

She waved him away and Alyss picked up his papers and fled the room. He was just past the door when he heard Gevaun's voice rumble.

"He's going to run."

"He will try," Kliman said icily. "Rook will make sure he does not get far."

Alyss rushed down the hallway and up half a flight of stairs, and that was as far as he got. He leaned against the wall, shaking, holding onto his paperwork as if it were a life raft. He didn't know anything, not the warmth of the house around him, not the rainy view outside the round window off to one side of him, only the hammering of his heart.

"Alyss?"

The angel nearly jumped out of his skin at that familiar voice. When he spoke, his words were shaky with relief. "Oh, Jean."

The vampire moved closer, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, well, um. I think I just killed someone." Alyss tried to shrug, it came out a shiver. Tried to smile and it came out terribly wobbly.

Jean's brows shot up, and he moved closer still. He'd have expected any number of reactions from an angel who admitted to such a thing; Alyss' was not on that list. Instead of saying anything he touched, very lightly, the back of one of those white-knuckled hands. "Alyss -"

"I've been working on the Vermont data, I mean, you know I have, everyone knows I have, of course you'd know, and I keep finding things wrong, and more and more wrong, and of course I report everything to Gevaun and Lilah and Kliman, so they have to do something about it, but I got so used to everyone being happy here, everyone's happy here, and I didn't think -"

"Alyss," Jean said a third time, and put a calloused thumb over the angel's lips.

Alyss cut himself off with a squeak.

Jean had to very sternly talk himself into pulling his hand away. "Did you put a gun to Alistaire's head? Did you force him to do whatever it is he did?" When the angel shook his head meekly, Jean shrugged. "He's a grown man, Alyss. He's nearly two hundred years old, and he's worked for Kliman all of his free life. He knows the rules. He's the one who chose to break them. And when he could've come clean he chose to go in even deeper." Very carefully, very pointedly he added, "his crimes aren't for you to carry."

When the angel drew in a stuttering, uncertain breath, his brown gaze skittering away, Jean had to accept a realization he'd been shying away from. "You're not used to places like this, are you. Kliman's house. Where everyone's... happy." God, more and more the vampire was being forced to accept that the accountant might actually be a decent creature.

Alyss shook his head. "I've seen such things, Jean," he whispered. "They aren't fair and they aren't right and no one does anything about them because they're vampires." He huffed. "’Oh, they're just vampires’," he mocked a snooty tone, then scowled. "We made them that. We made you that. And then everyone just, just -"

"Hey." Jean caught the accountant by the shoulders and shook him lightly. "Can you change Alistaire?"

"No. I mean... No, I don't even know him."

"How far back do your records go?"

"Oh, I'm anywhere between five and twenty years in for some of them and I'm still -"

"I know it’s different for angels, Alyss, but for normal people twenty years is an eternity. People can change so much in twenty years, if they want to. He just got worse. Was he going to stop if you didn't catch him?"

Jean watched that sweet brown gaze dart this way and that, running from reality, trying to find an answer other than the truth. In the end the angel sagged down, beaten. "No."

"God." The vampire looked at nothing in particular for a long moment before giving Alyss his attention again. "You're nicer than anyone deserves, you do know that?"

"I'd like to think I'm the normal level of nice," the angel replied in a mutinous murmur.

Jean had to grin at that. "I'll help you to your room." When he saw the amber wings twitch, the vampire reconsidered. "Have you been to the sunroom yet?"

"I don't think so."

"Come on. We'll drop off your stuff and I'll give you the tour I guess no one gave you when you got here."

The weather shifted to crisp, chilly and sunny autumn days; the change, as much as the shift in the direction of his work, helped Alyss shake off his glum.

Much of it, he had to admit, had to do with his conversation with Jean. The vampire hadn't been cruel but he'd been blunt, and honest, and calm. Alyss might not like it but he knew Jean was right, and to a certain degree so were Gevaun and Kliman. He couldn't, wouldn't ever approve of the casual, gleeful cruelty he'd witnessed against other vampires, but Alistaire was not the sort of vampire that would respond to kindness. To him it was simply a weakness to be exploited.

It made Alyss mad, though. Alistaire's attitude was precisely why no one cared when other vampires suffered at the hands of their angels. One horrible rotten apple, ruining life for everyone else in the barrel.

The Connecticut angel arrived early next morning. He was very much what everyone expected of an angel, tall and powerfully built, young, with sharply defined features and piercing eyes, short brown hair and red and brown wings serrated with white. He suffered a hug from Kliman which he stiffly tried to return, shared a strong, friendly handshake with Gevaun and ignored the fact that the entirety of the house staff was peeking out of every window. When they were introduced he examined Alyss for all of three seconds and immediately dismissed him. The accountant gratefully scurried back to his office, where he stayed until dinner time rolled around and he was told Kliman's enforcer would not be joining them, having already gone on his way. He still spent dinner listening to the staff swoon and gush over the Connecticut angel, fleeing as quickly as the excellent chicken pot pie allowed it. Listening to other people list the many ways in which he himself was not a noteworthy angel wasn't his idea of a good time.

If it weren't utterly unthinkable, he would have put something terrible in the Connecticut books just to be horrible and petty and mean. But it would have been... well, horrible and petty and mean. And dishonest, which was something Alyss tried never to be unless he were specifically hired for it. And even then he was always very dubious about taking on that kind of job, because it unfailingly got complicated and sticky and unpleasant.

Besides, as he paced restlessly through his office and room, staring at his tablet, he was already wondering if he hadn't ended up embroiled in precisely that kind of situation.

Maine wasn't adding up.

Maine was run directly from Kliman's home, directly by the angel. Chere ruled over the kitchen, yes, but part of the reason Kliman had a liaison was so she could oversee her house and her state personally. Every decision that might have caused the books to be wrong would have to go through her. Could it be a test? To see if Alyss really was as good as he claimed? Could it be a trap? The discrepancies weren't terribly big but they were there, needling him.

Alyss snatched a cloak and threw himself out of the balcony, circling once and gliding down to the short, lighted path that followed the perimeter of the pond. He had to get away, had to clear his head. He needed the silence of the woods; he regretted his choice almost immediately, when the cold of the season, compounded by the proximity of the water, slammed into him and left him shivering. He wrapped his wings around himself as best he could and clung to the cloak, muttering very unkind things about his inability to ignore the cold.

In the dark and the silence, the distant sound of an unfamiliar engine came to him on the breeze and for a moment he fancied he heard Jean's voice. It shot a pang through him and he realized he missed the vampire; he hadn't caught a single glimpse of him through the entire day. Shivering, he hurried in the direction of the sounds. He found himself going through the dark woods, on a road he didn't recognize and could barely be called one, and pulled his wings even closer to himself, wary. The road brought him to another side of the marshlands that dominated a good third of Kliman's estate and to an entirely unexpected sight.

Across perhaps fifty or sixty feet of still water he could see the wooden walkway that ran along the other side of the marsh. There was a boat there, the shallow-keeled type, engine humming very quietly in the still, cold air. Three people were already on it, two of them huddled down as close to one another as they could, the third minding the engine and holding a violet-tinted, very small light. There were six more people on the walkway, and even as he looked Alyss recognized one as Gevaun. Kliman's Second was wearing dark, comfortable clothing, and even as Alyss looked he saw the vampire pick up one of the other figures and set them down gently on the boat, holding on until the new passenger had found their footing. By his side, someone else in a dark, heavy lined jacket handed over a small bag.

Alyss knew that jacket. That was Jean. What was going on? The whole thing had the feel of something clandestine and dangerous, but Gevaun and Jean were... well, maybe not friends but they were good people. Gevaun was the sort of person that came to mind when the angel thought of the word 'stalwart'. And Jean, well, Jean was Jean.

Skirting the edges of the marsh and hoping that he wouldn't run himself into any more horrible spiky briers, Alyss inched closer to the strange little gathering. He paused at the very edge of the woods without setting foot on the walkway, knowing that if he did he'd be far too visible, even if the vampires didn't scent or hear him. He was honestly surprised they hadn't heard him already; to the accountant his passage through the woods had sounded only a little quieter than an avalanche.

He was close enough to hear Jean speak in that low, calm, steady tone he knew so well to one of the other people, a smaller figure than most of them there, though the angel was still too far away to make out the words. The vampire then picked them up, careful and slow.

There was still a muffled cry of pain ringing clear over the marsh.

Alyss gasped out loud and surged a step forward before he knew what he'd done, driven by an instinct older than the world. He froze almost immediately, but the heads of both the vampires had whipped around as if they were starving predators who'd scented blood. The angel groped blindly behind him for support that most obviously wasn't there, backing away from the scene. He turned to run.

A painfully strong grip caught his shoulder, spun him around and slammed him wings-first into the nearest tree. He cried out in surprise more than pain, reaching out to try and grab onto his attacker... and froze.

A knife, a long hunter's blade keenly sharp on a weathered wooden handle, was pressed against the skin of his throat, just under his chin. Alyss froze, disbelieving and terrified, a tiny chirping sound of panic escaping him.

Gevaun's eyes went very wide when he realized who he'd caught. His expression, which had sharpened to nearly wolf-like lines, crashed into chagrin, and he very succinctly summed up both the situation and everyone's feelings about it. "Well, crap."

"Walk, Alyss," Gevaun commanded, turning the accountant around to face the walkway, his tone brooking no argument.

"I'd rather just go -"

"Matt has a rifle, Jean has a shotgun, I have a lot of knives and you're just getting to your third century. Walk."

Huddled miserably in his cloak, his wings dragging behind him and his whole body shaking in incomprehending fear, Alyss dutifully walked up to the little scene he'd spied on the walkway, his feet occasionally catching on the uneven planks.

"Alyss." Jean's tone and expression were both stricken. Behind him, three figures huddled closer at the sight of the angel. Alyss could all but smell the fear in the air, thicker even than the unmistakable scent of the vampires. He could also smell blood, and it made his feathers shift restlessly. "What," Jean demanded, "are you doing here?" He was having trouble accepting that he might have misjudged the angel so badly, or believing that Alyss could indeed be a spy. He didn't make that kind of mistake, he never had.

"My head was full," Alyss muttered, and there, before the vampire, the person that he'd come to trust above all others in Kliman's house, it was as if a dam had broken. "It was all numbers and chaos rattling around and I couldn't get it to stop because it's all a mess that I can't, I can't fix because it's these books, for here, for Maine and those shouldn't be wrong but they are and -"

"Alyss." Jean lifted a hand to quiet the angel, to soothe him as he had before, and Alyss jerked away, fear in the rich brown of his eyes. The vampire froze. It was a gesture he was far too familiar with, that flinch. His life had been full of it for the past few centuries. But he'd never been the one to provoke it on someone he knew, someone he cared for. He stepped back, his features graven in stone. "Gevaun -"

"I have no bloody clue what to do," the other vampire admitted in Berber.

"He's not a spy," Jean matched the language.

"Jean, I know you like the sunflower but he was there. Hiding in the woods, looking at us. That's normally called spying."

"He's not a spy!"

"Even if he's not, now what? We cut him loose and hope he doesn't tell anyone? His mouth runs, you'll have noticed!"

Jean had no response to that, the very concept seeming so utterly outlandish to him, so he switched tacks. "What do you want to do, kill him? Somehow? He's not old, but he's old enough to make it hard. And how do we explain that when the Refuge comes asking after him?"

"There's no one who'd come asking for him," Gevaun replied ruthlessly.

Jean saw the flinch a second before Alyss joined the conversation in the same language. "I speak Berber, you know." He sounded tired and defeated.

Everyone went quiet once again. Behind Jean, one of the huddled figures started shivering so hard their teeth were clacking. Alyss automatically threw his wings back and undid the clasps on his cloak.

"What are you doing?" Gevaun demanded.

"They're cold," Alyss murmured, slipping the cloak off and stepping forward.

"What," Gevaun tried to step forward between the angel and the three figures, but found his way momentarily barred by one of those amber wings, "are you doing, get -"

"They're cold!" Alyss nearly shouted at the vampire before moving forward.

The shivering figure was a young man, absolutely beautiful, with very pale skin and refined features, eyes gone wide with terror at the sight of the angel. He was so cold in the bleak New England night his lips were turning purple, but he didn't move. His fear went to confusion, and then embarrassed gratitude, when Alyss threw the cloak over his shoulders, to cover the flimsy embroidered tunic and blousy black pants that were all he wore. "Gracias."

"De nada," Alyss replied automatically, stepping back and whirling to face the two vampires. "You're both wearing jackets. You're both old! He's a baby, and you didn't think to give him one? To bring a blanket or something for him? For the rest of them?"

The silence lingered before Jean admitted, "We don't speak Spanish, neither of us. We didn't know who was coming, only that -"

"Jean!"

"- only that they were coming," the vampire finished stubbornly, and he and Gevaun glared wordlessly at one another.

"Oh, for the love of prime numbers!" Alyss cried out, turning once again, his voice gentle and his question pointed. One of the other three, a woman, spoke to him in a different language, and he switched seamlessly to match her.

"Oi," the vampire at the boat's rudder suddenly called out. "I'm sure this is a problem for you lot, but I need to get them out of here quick." He threw in an extra incentive. "Van's heated."

Jean turned around. "Alyss," he called out, and gestured to the third woman, who was wrapped up in a fine woolen blanket stitched with ribbons and exquisite embroidered edges. "Tell her I will help her into the boat, but it's gonna hurt."

"Why is it -" The question withered in Alyss' mouth as the truth, finally, bloomed to life in his mind.

Runaways. They were all runaways.

He turned to the woman, who was staring sightlessly at the marsh, and began gently asking questions, rolling through every language he knew. She twitched at one point, and finally turned to not quite face him when he translated for Jean.

"It's only pain," she murmured emotionlessly, her Finnish without accent. "I will try not to cry out this time."

"She understands," Alyss told Jean, his mouth dry with the new, growing horror of it. He turned to the other woman waiting on the dock. "You're all... This is... You could die, you know, you could die if they catch you," he told her in Polish.

She scoffed. There were bruises like shadows all over her face, and scars all along her neck; as a vampire she was young enough that she wasn't healing quickly, and her healing was not clean. Either that, or someone had made an effort to make sure she got no benefit of either. "Better to die than to go back to that life," she replied, and her conviction was ironclad.

"Is that... why you're here? All of you?"

"No." Her gaze darted to where Jean was carrying the Finnish vampire onto the boat. "No. Some of us are here because they would have never let us die."

That thought, Alyss found out, was even more horrifying than the possibility of a cruel death.

He shook his head when the young man offered him the cloak back and stood there, watching while they all boarded, and then as Jean and Gevaun shoved the boat away with long poles until it was clear of the cattails bordering the walkway. Someone lifted an arm and waved before the boatman turned off his light and the darkness swallowed them all.

Alyss automatically waved back and heard Gevaun sigh, saw the Second rub at his face. Well, as far as the angel was concerned there was really only one thing he could say, and so he said it. "Your accountant is absolutely terrible and hasn't bothered to hide all of the money you're stealing for this at all."

Gevaun turned very slowly to stare at the angel, his expression full of disbelief. "You audited us?"

"Of course I did!" Jean saw Alyss' wings twitch with the angel's exasperation. "You hired me to audit you!"

"To audit them!"

"To audit New England! Which you're part of! What, were you expecting I'd do a terrible job?! Or, or, or not do my job at all?!" When Gevaun, caught off-guard by the very obvious counter, sputtered, Alyss barreled on. "And it's lucky it was me and not someone from New York because your books are the worst mess, no one's made so much as an effort to hide the fact money's going missing everywhere, I can't imagine what something like this costs, except obviously not enough to buy blankets or, I don't know, have something warm to drink when they -" Alyss trailed off, another piece of the puzzle clicking into place.

Hot cocoa and warm croissants, always ready in the kitchen.

Gevaun looked sheepish. "Chere was asleep when we got the call."

Alyss covered his face and made a wordless, high-pitched sound of impatience.

"We weren't expecting this many of them!"

"Then you make plans for when it happens, because it's going to happen! Things always go wrong. Always! That's one of the first things you learn running a business, that's why you make plans, and contingencies for the plans, and contingencies for the contingencies, and you don't very well leave them lying around on your documents for when the Guild comes calling, which honestly I'm astonished they haven't -"

"Kliman happens," Jean pitched in, voice quiet, arms crossed.

"What?" Alyss lost track of the conversation, turning to face the other vampire.

"If the Guild comes by, Kliman happens to them," Jean repeated. "She shuts down their skills. Part of her power."

"How's that going to help if someone in Manhattan decides to go over your books electronically? Or if they send in angels or, or, or the Consort? Couldn't you at least, I don't know, pretend like you aren't getting runaway vampires to safety? Did you go to the cheap bin for your accounting? Do you even have one?!"

"We do, b-"

"Well, then I want to talk to them," the angel demanded, drawing himself up, an effort to look commanding that was entirely ruined by the fact he was shivering in the cold. "I want to talk to your accountant," he declared primly, and it almost sounded like a threat. Almost. Except for the part where he tripped on the walkway once again when he tried to stalk off into the dark.

"Let him go," Jean's voice was very low when he spoke to stop Gevaun, who'd whipped around to follow after the angel.

"But -"

"But his mouth runs?" The vampire's brows went up. "He's an accountant, Gevaun. He's been an accountant to hundreds of angels and vampires, most of them the kind no one else wants to touch. And nobody's heard a peep of the crap he probably found and fixed on their books, have they?" He clicked his tongue, walking sedately away. "His mouth runs," he mocked. "We better go wake up the, uh, the cheap bin accountant."

Alyss went to his room and paced, and flailed, and argued with himself a great deal.

On the one hand, he couldn't disagree with what Gevaun and Jean had done. Yes, vampires were dangerous, predatory, horrible. Yes, many of them were no better than Alistaire. At the middle ground, they were no better than Andrew, content to coast through life doing the bare minimum. Or Gracie, clueless and happy to remain so. And the threat of losing control to their hunger for blood was always there, always.

But at some point the burden of Alistaires meant that everyone had stopped looking closely at the matter. The angels, the Guild, they had given up the entire vampiric population as a loss, blood-thirsty fiends without will or thought, bent merely on greed and destruction. The Guild had even made a concerted effort to render the VPA toothless, unable to protect those like the Finnish woman. They'd been so busy wanting free reign to hunt the monsters that they'd set up the victims to be trampled in their wake. Bloodlust was treated as a noose around their neck, a sword forever dangling over them. Alyss had long ago given up trying to understand the sheer stupidity of that way of thinking, because it didn’t affect him. It didn’t touch him.

That night, it most certainly had touched him.

On the other hand, every mortal who wished to become a vampire chose to do so. They chose to accept a hundred years of servitude. They were given the contract to read, to consider, to sign or reject as they saw fit.

But a contract did not excuse the abuse he'd seen on the Polish woman. Or the horror he hadn't seen on the Finnish woman.

He was, Alyss realized, losing the argument to a part of himself that was heavily implying that rules and laws were more like guidelines, really, arr. And he didn't know what to make of it. He was an accountant. He lived his life to bring numbers to order by following a very specific set of rules. Certainly he could twist them, bend them, but he had always done his best to abide by the rules and to do what was right. Never before in his life had the two principles been so diametrically opposed.

There was a delicate knock on the door he'd locked, and he dug the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Please, Chere, I really don't feel like eating!"

"It's not Chere," a cheerful woman's voice replied. "I'm the accountant."

Oh, this was a fight Alyss was more than ready for. He stalked to the door, unlocked it and flung it open. "Do you realize -"

His voice strangled to a delicate whine. There was a sword tip brushing his throat, just above his Adam's apple. It was a fine burnished length of steel, both edges sharpened, without guard; it was done in the old Etruscan style. The pommel was wrapped in leather, utilitarian rather than decorative.

Kliman, wearing a pair of very comfortable hiking pants and a soft pink knit sweater, smiled thinly at the younger angel. "Hello, Alyss. You wanted to talk to me?"

Alyss had automatically thrown his hands up. He looked at the older angel in stunned disbelief and swallowed against the lump of terror in his throat. It refused to budge.

"Back." The smile vanished, Kliman all business. "My house doesn't need to deal with this potential ruckus." She herded him back into the room, the sword never wavering, and closed and locked the door behind her. "Now, there's always the balcony," she admitted. "But if you run I'm going to chase you. And I'm the one who taught Rook everything he knows."

"I won't," Alyss breathed.

"Eh?"

"I won't run, ma'am, I promise."

"Mm. Unlike Gevaun, I'm willing to believe you." She dropped the sword and sheathed it on a half-sheath resting across her back. "Now, you had a speech all ready to go, didn't you."

Alyss opened his mouth. Closed it. "I forgot it," he admitted hoarsely.

She had to chuckle at that. "Well, how about I give you some facts and you can give me the salient points of it. Yes, I know what Gevaun is doing. I am, in fact, the one that started him doing it. I'm not ashamed of it. No, Jean was not supposed to be involved and I'm very cross at them for it. Yes, there was supposed to be a departure tonight. No, half those vampires weren't supposed to be there but one of the safehouses along the pipeline has been compromised. Yes, all of my staff knows; most of them come from the pipeline. No, I'm not actually an accountant but I had no one I trusted to do the book-keeping, considering..." She waved he hand at the balcony.

Alyss pressed his hands close, trying to decide which of his inner halves ought to speak to this new, terrifying version of his hostess. All things considered, he wasn't terribly surprised when Guidelines, Arr-Alyss won out. "You can't do that, ma'am. Respectfully. Everyone forgets to write down things, and in a big household like this money's bound to get lost, but you're financing an entire, uh... pipeline. And it shows. Does it ever, ever show."

One of Kliman's golden brows went up, though she wasn't about to admit to Alyss why it had done so. Instead, very mildly, she replied, "It's that bad, huh?"

"It's... It's... It's somewhat blatant," Alyss explained as diplomatically as possible, unaware that his struggles had left Kliman trying not to laugh. "I'm just saying, it's not hard to hide what you're doing. It's not easy but it's not... If you're trained it's not outside the realm of possibility."

"Hm. Well, that's delightful to know. When can you get started?"

Alyss choked. "Excuse me?"

"You were terribly angry at me before that door opened. You are still angry, you're just more scared than angry. But you know what I haven't heard from you, not once?" Kliman's voice softened. "Disapproval. It's not even a consideration for you." Some of her amusement shone through. "You're upset that I bungled the books, which is fair. But you don't disapprove of what we're doing here, do you."

Alyss felt the argument within him grow to a crescendo, and finally crown a winner. "No. It needs doing, and no one else seems to care."

"We care." Kliman moved closer to set a warm, gentle hand on Alyss' shoulder. "I care. Please, help me, help us, keep on doing this."

Alyss sighed shakily. "Well, I didn't really have anything lined up after this job. I guess I can stay a little longer."

"Wonderful." Kliman beamed at him, whirled around and headed out of the room. "Now come with me."

"Come where?"

"To make sure Jean hasn't killed someone."

"He... what? Excuse -" Alyss hastily trotted after the older angel. "Excuse, excuse me, he, why would he -"

"Child, you can't be so blind not to see he does more than endure your company. Have you seen him suffer any other angels?" Kliman wasn't slowing down. She led the way to her office and threw the doors open to the vast space, full of rosewood furnishings and ancient Etruscan and Hittite art that would have made a museum curator weep. The room was warm, airy and during the daytime it would likely be brightly lit, even without lamps. At the moment, only one half of it was lit. There, Gevaun and Lilah were struggling to keep a snarling Jean pinned down against a desk surrounded by debris. "There! Here he is, safe and sound, now you can stop being so dramatic," Kliman said tartly. "Let him go."

Gevaun and Lilah stepped back and Jean sprang up and away from them, fangs momentarily bared in an entirely feral reaction. Alyss had stopped at the double doors, a hand stretched out, his face frozen in a stricken expression as, again, too many bits and bobs of information came together in his mind.

The fact it took both Gevaun and Lilah to hold Jean down meant the one vampire he'd thought to be the youngest of the three was actually the oldest. And very, very old.

Jean's not staff. He's a guest and he's currently recovering.

A runaway. Memories flickered through Alyss' mind, the way the young Spanish-speaking vampire had frozen in terror at his proximity, the way the Finnish vampire had not even been able to look at him.

Have you seen him suffer any other angels?

No. He wouldn't even join Kliman's dinner table.

"Jean, are you -" Alyss tripped over the wrong words for the right question. "Are you hurt? Are you going to be alright?"

The entire room came to a stop. Jean's mouth had opened but whatever he'd meant to say, the younger angel's question had trumped it. He swallowed hard. "I'm fine," he gritted out and slowly, very slowly, he reached out for that outstretched hand. Alyss clung to the warm, calloused touch of it. "Are you hurt?" The vampire laced his fingers through Alyss', moving closer with a slow calm he was not feeling but refusing to do anything that might make the angel flinch again.

"Well, my pride, my dignity and my belief I'm halfway-clever are all quite dead," Alyss replied meekly, "but no, I'm fine. Really, I'm fine."

"Alyss has agreed to replace our cheap bin accountant," Kliman informed the room dryly, and the other angel went red to his ears. "Thank goodness, because I hate the job. Now, exciting as this all has been, I think everyone should get some rest tonight and tomorrow. Time enough on Friday to face the world once again." She stalked out of the room, and when no one followed her she snapped, "Gevaun, you're already on my shit list, you might want to do something about that." The vampire hurried after his mistress.

Lilah paused at the door. "Alyss?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you." She was gone without waiting for a reply.

Whatever well of righteous indignation had carried the accountant that far chose that moment to run dry. He threatened to go down with with a startled, puzzled little sound, and he'd have crashed face down on the rich knotted rug if the vampire's powerful arms had not caught him and steadied him against his body. "You're fine, you're fine, I got you."

"I can't feel my knees," Alyss declared dazedly, too dizzy to worry that he was clinging to Jean.

"That's fine." Jean shifted, and Alyss was suddenly up, cradled and carried in the vampire's arms. "Not a fighter, are you?"

"Numbers don't threaten people with knives and swords and things," Alyss protested. "And I think I've done quite well, all things considered."

"You did," the vampire assured him, carrying him away from the office and heading for the accountant's rooms. "The adrenaline wore off, that's all."

"Could I have some from the kitchen, please? This is very undignified. And you shouldn't have to carry anyone if you don't want to."

Once again, Jean couldn't help but feel a smile tugging at him. "Chere's fresh out, I think." The door to Alyss' room had been left open; Jean expertly shoved it closed with a foot once they were inside. "I don't mind carrying you," he admitted at last.

"Why? You're like them. You're -" Alyss looked up, and there was so much worry in the sweet brown of his eyes that the vampire felt it like a physical blow. "It had to be worse for you, so much worse, you're old. You're very old." He went limp against Jean's shoulder. "It's not fair. You're so nice. Only nice things should happen to you."

"And that would be the triple-f crash talking," Jean said, his voice gone rough with emotion at that sentiment, so vast and so simply, so easily offered to him.

"I don't swear," Alyss protested primly.

Jean blew out an amused breath as he set the angel on his bed. "Not that kind of 'f', Alyss. Fight, flight, freeze."

"Oh." Alyss suddenly clung to Jean's shirt. "Stay? Please? I just - Tell me they're gonna be alright. Tell me they'll be safe. I keep seeing them and, and -"

Jean touched a thumb to that runaway mouth, frowned, and fought with the entirely too gleeful part of himself that pointed out that those words totally counted as an invitation to the angel's bed, and from there it was a short hop, skip and jump to doing things the vampire had become unacquainted with over the past few decades. The touch of that wing, like silk and sunshine, lingered in his memory, made his fingers tingle.

He slipped onto the bed, kicking off his boots, but he kept a safe distance between them that threatened to kill him out of sheer inadequacy. "We're just a waystation, a safehouse. Boston sends them to us when they come from overseas, and we find them a life elsewhere. Kliman makes sure they have a way to start over. Evie and her people make up new doc -" Alyss pressed close against the vampire's side. "- uments."

"Everyone has a job. You must have done this so many times."

"No. Twice a year on a good year. Once is the norm. Getting a vampire away from this sort of situation isn't easy, sunflower." The nickname slipped out before he knew what he'd done and Jean could only be glad that the angel was too close to sleep to notice it. "Not if you want them to get away clean. Not if you want to make sure they really need to get away; that they're not rogues looking for an easy way out of their contract. I guarantee at least two angels are going to come sniffing by after tonight. Or they'll send the Guild after us again."

He felt Alyss shiver, mostly asleep. "No. I'll erase everything, they'll never find anything they can use, not a thing, not a number, not a single decimal."

"You do that." Jean was silent, waiting. He was rewarded after a few minutes with the steady breathing that announced Alyss had fallen asleep, exhausted by having to do things very much not in an accountant's repertoire.

And yet he'd been fierce and determined, staunch to a fault even in his terror, and it had been very much been terror - the vampire had smelled it on him like fire licking the walls of Alexandria. Jean knew then that he'd been right: Alyss was a truly good person.

He sighed, wanting very much to stay where he was, knowing he should leave. He shifted to try and slip away -

An arm slid over his chest, followed a moment later by one of those amber-colored wings. Jean froze. "Alyss."

"Mm."

"Alyss, I can't stay here."

"Why?"

A plaintive voice inside Jean was indignantly asking the same question. "They'll think I've slept with you."

"But you are sleeping with me," came the drowsy reply.

Jean realized there was absolutely no way he could explain the semantic differences between what each of them was saying to a bird that wasn't really awake anymore. He tipped his head back and chuckled soundlessly. "I suppose I am," he drawled, admitting defeat, and settling down under the angel's embrace.

#alyss and jean #angel #vampire #fantasy #modern fantasy #urban fantasy #nalini singh #guild hunter #my writing #implied violence #fanfiction #male on male

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