ok. posting this then going to bed.

Wallpaper dedicated to
guede_mazaka, but I'm not sure if this was exactly what you've imagined when you asked for all four boys...I've got another one in the works...
and y'know what? I'm not sure if I'm even allowed to call this a wallpaper, because it's basically me shamelessly making an illustration to a fic that only exists in my head.
boo.
however, if anybody else is able to squeeze a fic out of this I would plead for you to go right ahead because *I* certainly completely lack the ability to do so.
oh. and I think I'll do a version that's less bloody. It should make the whole thing less angsty, because right now it's a mishmash of tone and theme. I blame it on Sands.
Wallpaper dedicated to
and y'know what? I'm not sure if I'm even allowed to call this a wallpaper, because it's basically me shamelessly making an illustration to a fic that only exists in my head.
boo.
however, if anybody else is able to squeeze a fic out of this I would plead for you to go right ahead because *I* certainly completely lack the ability to do so.
oh. and I think I'll do a version that's less bloody. It should make the whole thing less angsty, because right now it's a mishmash of tone and theme. I blame it on Sands.
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Er, handwriting not psychotic enough, though ...
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And thank you immensely. I'll let the little conversation stew a bit and see what I can come up with.
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"You have taken on entire cartels," said El. He was sitting on the bed, watching idly as Sands packed his things. Not that they ever really unpacked, living from hotel to hotel as they did, so packing had consisted of shoving two black shirts and a pair of socks into the duffel bag that currently contained most of his worldly possessions.
Sands didn't turn toward him, focusing instead on making sure he had the really important things: bullets and sunglasses. Besides, the habit of 'looking' at someone so they could believe he was listening was remarkably easy to drop once it became totally irrelevant. "And?"
Maybe he wasn't making his point. "Blinded."
"You've noticed!" Sands' voice was bright, cheerful, and specifically chosen to be as exasperating as possible. Never let it be said that he didn't succeed at something when he set his mind to it. "Brava!"
No, the point was obviously not being made. "You are afraid of Lorenzo?"
This earned all the trappings of attention, the turn accompanied by a raised eyebrow and an incredulous tone. "So you WANT to stay around for their emotional baggage?"
He looked again at the photo. He thought she might be one of the waitresses from the club, but it didn't really matter. What mattered was that Lorenzo had already seen it, and El had first-hand experience as to how loud the younger mariachi could get when properly motivated.
Lack of response was an answer in itself.
"Thought so. Coming with?"
His own bag was ready, and his guitar case had plenty of bullets. Enough Colombians had died last night to merit a short break.
"Si."
They left a note.
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*re-reads fic* You packed an impressive amount of characterization into about 200 words.
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...posted!
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Also proud of myself for tiptoeing around the line, "Lorenzo's a screamer."
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but maybe the lines should wobble up and down a little more, since he can't see to keep them straight.
But as everyone else says...THIS IS ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS!!!!
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::mutter mutter:: stupid blood splatters ::mutter::
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as for the lines wobbling...yeah, I agree but ::shrugs:: post-it note
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::glomp!::
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Re: ::glomp!::
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damn you! you're making me late for work.
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Yes, I love fans.
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I'd give you my soul, but I just mailed it to the Depp the other day. WAH. <3 PRICELESS.
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Re: ::glomp!::
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