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nyotasaimiri · 2 years ago

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Arc Two (redux) 81

“Hey—Mihre, heads up.” Marcy jolted upright in her seat as the new message icon flashed on screen. The avatar was totally strange to her, though. Some kind of green star? “It’s something new. But who sent that?”

Mihre chuckled and tapped it. “One way to learn that, ssilly.”

Two images opened up and a line of text. Heya, this is Sonny! I’m part of Nyota’s crew. Guess you’re her friend, huh? Nice to meet you! Arrow and I, we found more stuff, and old Esther said send it your way, so here you are.

The first image was a bright green novakid with a brand shaped like a four-pointed star, waving at the camera. Marcy guessed that was supposed to be this Sonny. The second image looked like an ink sketch of some kind, a handful of characters traced out by a very neat hand. “It’s a transcription, I think. A title? This mark here, that denotes a name, and I can see the character for guardian.”

Mihre leaned over her shoulder. “Guardian, is it?” They tapped the screen, very careful not to scratch it. “Floran use this character, the first, for ice. Lasst character, I saw it once, as a ssprout. Very old Floran used it to mean house, I think.” They hummed, deep and rattling. “But guardian, no.” They touched the mark that Marcy had indicated. “Floran ssay warden.”

Marcy frowned. She knew the guardian mark well from Esther’s notes. It was repeated several times in the carvings that Esther had found over the decades. But something in Mihre’s words stuck with her, and stuck hard. “So we have a name, ice warden—yes, I think that ice describes warden—and house. Doesn’t quite feel complete, but it’s a start.”

A second message popped up. Marcy laughed and opened it. “Ah, right on cue. This Sonny is very prompt.”

Mihre smiled in fond amusement. “And ssweet on that glitch there. Ssee?” They were grinning at the first item attached to the new message, a short video that showed Sonny tugging a blue-silver glitch into view. The glitch’s eye bulbs glowed like stars. Was he blushing?

Oh right, this is Arrow. And here’s the next set he got down. I think it’s the last of this batch. Any luck yet?

Mihre snorted. “Impatient, yes?”

“Novakid tend to be,” Marcy said absently as she pulled up the second new attachment. More carefully drawn characters, one very similar to the guardian-warden mark. “A verb, this.” She enlarged it. “This mark here changes it from a state of being to a state of doing. It was really quite the sophisticated language, wasn’t it?”

Mihre shook their head, marveling. “If you ssay so. Floran use ssscent for that, not marks. I see nothing to help with here. Ssorry.”

“That’s fine, I think I’ve got this bit.” Marcy settled back into the sofa and grabbed her drink. The mild sugar helped her focus. “Altogether, it’s something’s name, then I think, roughly, it goes something like this.” She touched each symbol in turn; it wasn’t a linear language, but the marks made the path plain for her to read. It was like following a constellation. “The frozen warden guards its home. Vaguely ominous, that.”

The floran rattled deep in their throat. “Ominous, yes. You should tell Captain Ssaimiri.”

Marcy frowned. “I’ll try. I’m not getting much signal from her right now.” It hadn’t worried her before. With Mihre’s words, though, it did now. Hope you’re fine, Nyota. Please.

The air was beginning to warm, and that made Nyota nervous. Warmer air meant warmer snow, which turned to slush and sudden falls. “Keep close to me,” she told Arjun. “My weight will pack the snow down tighter.”

“Right.” Arjun followed behind, stepping in her steps. “Nice to have my own personal snowplow.”

Nyota snorted and made sure to clear the snow for him better. He hadn’t complained yet, but he was old, even if he refused to tell them his exact age. Probably too old to comfortably slog through dungeons like this. The least she could do was make sure he stayed safe. Her vow to make sure they all got out together, that included him too.

Then the snow stopped, as if something had just swept it off the path. The steady blue light of from the ceiling panels didn’t reach well and Nyota almost froze up; it looked like the floor had opened into a pit for a long moment.

“It’s warm here,” Arjun muttered, catching up. “Still pretty cold, but it’s like a wall, right as you walk in. Might be able to feel my fingers in a minute. Pretty spooky, though.” He stopped just shy of her and patted her back; Nyota wasn’t quite sure if he was trying to reassure her or just find her in the dark. “Right, right. Apex eyes aren’t good with the dark, yeah? Stick with me. There’s a door over there.”

“Thank you.” Nyota put a hand on his shoulder. She could see him just fine by his white hair, almost glowing under the faintest bit of blue light that reached them, but she did not mention it. Humans could be touchy about that. She found herself remembering again that he had quite a few apex friends. Had he guided them like this before? He offered it so readily.

The door slid open at a touch, eerily silent. Nyota realized that they hadn’t heard anything but their own footsteps and breathing for a while. No alien creatures around here, then. But something told her it was not yet safe to relax.

#arc two #repost

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anger-anon · 20 days ago

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Course I would, silly~ Mmmm, so silly~ C... Cm'ere...

*holds out their hands*

-PT

I-I’m not ssilly, y-your silly!

*💢 giggles as he stumbles forward, taking PT’s hands into his own*

Show me- show me the way my- my ddear!

#anger anon #💢 anon #pt anon #asks

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fandomwandererer · 4 months ago

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wait ssilly idea. John is a conniving bastard, but likes kids, so his reasoning forttaking danny in was 80 percent he's a kid who needs training and 20 percent if I hang around him enoug i willget free power with only a few rare weaknesses, which i can counter with x and y and z

#10 dcxdp

John constantine brings Danny up to the watch tower so one of the Hero's can watch him as he dose a mission

#dpxdc #John Constantine adopts Danny Fenton

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bkugsa · 4 years ago

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" you’ve been crying, i can tell. " u fucking wu

yes , for certain , he has .... is. the boy has been crying for many hours now , for days on end , like a routine. the routine has made his body truly oh so weak: mentally and physically. the shakings rom such a weak boy should never be heard: could never be heard. so why was it that bakugou was hearing him now? proto was always the one to always hide his true negative emotions that lay within: and from his brother was no exception. in fact , he did it more often than not with the other. there’s been more times he can count that he has felt the fear of being rejected the love he has so desperately craved , and for a good reason. bakugou was never one to tell or take feelings: and sadly , proto wasn’t an exception to that rule either. is this how brothers treat each other? with such distastefulness: a broken bond. a bond that was like a thread , the type to cute very easily , and yet the other has cut it to shreds. little specks of what used to be a bond lay on the ground beneath them. ❛ huh? ❜ out of all the people in the world, bakugou was not one katsuki expected in the slightest. maybe iida-kun , izuku , hell , even kirishima. [ but it should be known that he hadn’t expected anyone at his door in this hour. ] his heart almost wants to dance with pride and glee: but then he remembered the kind of person that his brother was. his brother , the type that is so cold to even call his own brother worthless , thought he had nothing but hope and happiness for him. a deep part of him knew that , secretly , his nickname wasn’t as as cute as he thought. it was the confirmation yesterday that had really hit him like a nail on the head to stop being naive as he was. if you lie to yourself enough times , you eventually start to believe it. he had used that advice for bakugou for so , so , so long ... maybe he shouldn’t stop it. it would make them both happier , he thinks.

katsuki’s body still shook. he still silently cried as his back still remain in front of his twin. he had no intention of turning around: not even now , all odds against the world he would mask it up with another dumb story. i forgot , he remembers texting to the other and all he got back was bark. bark that lead to yesterday’s big bang , bark that lead to right now. the phone in his hand is shut off and slid under his bed in a weak , almost rude attempt to hide it by the way he assumes his brother would be that stupid. it was true: he was indeed looking at their dms again in an attempt to maybe process it better. an attempt to not have a big , shitty fit [ the way his brother would’ve described it ] but out all of the attempts he had always failed. failed that how he had failed the one behind him the most. it seemed he would always be an emotionless , hopeless mess. ❛ n-nno i haven’t you’re so ss-ssilly , kats! ❜ then explain why you’re stutterin’ and shakin’. that voice rings in proto’s head , the one of the other that was stronger him. he was always stronger than him it seemed , but right now it was more prominent that most. how many times had he felt like this? how many times had he felt like the other was above him , looking down at him? that was not because of their heights either: for the boy on the ground was 6′1 and the other was 5′7 at most. it was the power dynamic , it was the way prototype’s quirk was so much worse than the finished. explosions .... how could he even compare? how could he even compare to someone as powerful , godly , even , when he can’t even use his quirk for more than two minutes without bleeding. tears hit even harder like a drum to his head. at the reminder that he will never , never , never , compare to be so strong: so beloved. proto could imagine it now , bakugou on the pedestal of number one while the sihitty prototype remain a sidekick for some stupid inflated ego of a hero. so , bakugou , then?

#long post /#gm yall #bombfire

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fledermausforstrauss · 5 years ago

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Day 4 - Frozen

Crowley is late, Aziraphale is worried. Crowley does something stupid, Aziraphale Tries His Best. 1,821 words.

Always thankful to @pie1313 for the help, she gives me too many good ideas. No such thing as writer’s block with her around.

—–

Aziraphale looked over his shoulder at the front door, waiting for the little bell above the entrance to ring in the particular way Crowley always seemed to make it ring.

They had made plans for the night. A new musical was opening up in the Playhouse Theatre and Crowley had bought them good tickets. Aziraphale had been waiting for him, but he hadn’t shown up in time for them to make it to the show, which left Aziraphale wonder where he was.

The walk from Crowley’s flat to the bookshop wasn’t long, and it was an even shorter drive, especially in the Bentley, which Crowley would certainly be driving with the weather the way it was.

It had been steadily snowing the whole day, piling up on the streets and impeding traffic, turning London into a wintery wonderland.

For a moment, Aziraphale worried the Bentley might’ve got stuck in the snowy streets, but he knew better than to doubt Crowley’s pride and joy. If the Bentley could make it through a wall of fire, it could make it through a bit of snow.

It had only been a few moments since the show had started, but Aziraphale was really starting to worry. He tucked a bookmark into the book he hadn’t been reading and put it aside, pulling his coat on.

He stood at the front door, his hand on the handle as he looked out the window. It had grown dark, the orange glow of the street lights reflecting off the mounds of snow and the still-falling flakes that continued to fill the air.

There was a familiar shape in the snow, taking up the parking spot in front of the bookshop.

Aziraphale’s frown deepened as he pushed on the door, only to meet resistance. He stood on his toes and pressed his face against the glass to look down at whatever was blocking the door and gasped. He pushed the other door open and knelt in the building pile of snow, reaching out to brush the snow off the form curled against the door frame to reveal a shock of red hair.

He worked frantically to clear the demon of snow, muttering to himself as panic made his heart race. Crowley was curled tight on himself, his skin as cold as ice.

Aziraphale gently took the tinted glasses off and pressed his hands to Crowley’s cheeks, patting the side of his face gently.

“Crowley? Come on, wake up.” He took the demon’s hands in his own, finding them frozen stiff. “Oh, dear.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, reaching out with all available senses. He could feel just the faintest trace of Crowley’s essence still coiled in his corporeal form.

He hadn’t discorporated. Yet.

Aziraphale scooped Crowley into his arms, carrying him into the warmth of the bookshop, placing him on the couch and brushing the damp hair from his forehead. He pulled the tartan blanket off of the back of the couch and tucked Crowley in, trying to think back to his knowledge of the treatment of hypothermia.

As soon as the demon’s form was covered with a warm blanket, Aziraphale snapped his fingers, replacing his damp clothes with dry pajamas, drying his hair, and adding another thick blanket.

“Alright, now I just have to…” Aziraphale looked Crowley’s form over, trying to remember what came next. “…Ah. Right.”

Aziraphale pulled his chair next to the couch and sat, his entire frame tense as he bit his lip.

“Now I just have to wait.” Aziraphale mumbled.

He took Crowley’s hand in his own again, running his thumb over his knuckles and studying the paint on the demon’s nails. He could feel the skin of Crowley’s hand starting to warm under his fingers and let go of the breath he had been holding.

The old clock in the corner of the bookshop ticked away as Aziraphale tried hard not to count the seconds between each of Crowley’s breaths, but it was the only thing he could focus on. They were far too slow, and so shallow that he was sure he would miss them if he wasn’t giving it all of his attention.

He leant forward and rested a hand on Crowley’s cheek, confused and concerned when his skin still felt icy to the touch. He furrowed his brows and slid his hand under the blankets to find the demon’s chest just as frozen.

“Why aren’t you warming up…?” Aziraphale muttered to himself, running his hand along the chilled skin of the demon’s arm until he found himself holding his warm hand again. His mind raced for a moment before his face fell slack in realization. He ran his hand down his face, feeling like an idiot.

Their corporeal forms were fundamentally human. Aziraphale had been treating Crowley’s hypothermia as he would a human’s, and in any other case, that would work just fine, but Aziraphale had forgotten a key fact in his panic.

While it was true Crowley’s body was human-like, the demon was, at his very core, a serpent.

Remembering back to something he had read long before, snakes were incapable of creating their own body heat, meaning Crowley could spend days tucked under thick blankets and he would still be just as frozen as he was when he went in. He needed a source of heat.

Aziraphale looked around the bookshop, trying to come up with something that could gradually heat Crowley. It couldn’t be too hot or too fast or he had a chance of harming Crowley more than helping him.

He looked down at their clasped hands again.

The only part of Crowley that had any warmth to it was the hand Aziraphale had been holding.

He couldn’t help the slow smile that formed on his lips as he had idea.

—–

Crowley awoke wrapped in warmth.

He wriggled deeper into the comfort surrounding him, a soft hum escaping his lips.

There was a breath of a laugh much too close to his ear. He pried his bleary eyes open to find himself staring into a familiar pair of blue eyes. He blinked a few times, his mind sluggishly catching up.

He was curled into Aziraphale’s arms, his own limbs wrapped around the angel’s waist with a tight grip. They were buried under cozy blankets and squeezed into the limited space of the antique couch Crowley liked to lounge on, their legs tangled together in a mess of limbs.

He pushed back just enough to study the warm look on the angel’s face only inches from his own.

“Am I dead?” Crowley whispered.

“You sure tried you best, my dear.” Aziraphale’s smile twitched. “But no. You’re going to be just fine.”

“What happened?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me.” Aziraphale said. “I found you curled up on the doorstep, frozen solid in the snow.”

“The snow…” Crowley repeated, thinking. He blinked owlishly. “Oh no.”

“Crowley?”

Crowley ignored the angel and rolled backwards off the couch, falling to the floor with a thud and taking the blankets down with him. He scrambled, flailing his limbs and he fought his way out of the fabric, stumbling to his feet and taking a step towards the front door.

He paused, looking down at himself.

“Angel….” Crowley said, aghast. “What the Hell am I wearing?”

His usual attire had been switched out for a set of pajamas patterned with Aziraphale’s favourite shade of tartan. He pulled on the front of the shirt to glare at the offending pattern.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I had to get you into something warm and dry.” Aziraphale frowned, sitting up on the couch. “You were soaking wet from sitting out there–.”

“Right.” Crowley interrupted, remembering what he was doing and continuing on his path for the door.

“Crowley, where are you going?” Aziraphale asked, rushing to follow him towards the door. “Don’t go back out there! I just got you warm!”

Crowley ignored the angel and pushed the door open, immediately filled with chill and regret, but not willing to give up so quickly. He knelt in the pile of snow that was still growing, reaching his hands into the mound and searching around the spot where the imprint of his body was faintly discernible.

He pushed snow aside and dug his fingers through the ice, hissing at the cold, feeling around until he caught the corner of a metal case. Just as his fingers clutched at it, he felt strong hands grab him under his arms and drag him back into the warmth.

They tumbled back into a heap on the floor as the door slammed itself shut, the little bell over the entrance swinging wildly.

“What were you thinking!?” Aziraphale demanded, pulling as much of Crowley’s shivering body into his lap as he could and holding him tight.

Crowley clutched the case to his chest, his teeth chattering and his fingers burning from the cold. He smiled shakily at the angel’s worried look and let the case fall into his lap.

“A-Apparently…” Crowley stuttered, struggling to open the latches with numb fingers. “Sss- Ssome people k-keep bookss in– In temp– Temp– In Cold roomss. D-Did you know th-that?”

“It can help keep them preserved, yes.” Aziraphale said, confused.

“W-Well. I didn’t.” Crowley frowned. “Sss–Sseemss ssilly, keeping b-bookss cold.”

Aziraphale watched as Crowley huffed a breath in frustration, snapping his fingers to unlock the stubborn latches. He opened it to reveal a smaller wooden box with intricate carvings embedded with sparkling gems.

“I wasssn’t prepared for how c-cold it wass. Then the bassstard wanted t-to sstand around and bloody chat about books.” Crowley said, disgusted, wrinkling his nose at the idea. “In the cold room!”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale said, his voice low, a curious smile curving his lips. “What’s in the box?”

Crowley opened the lid to reveal a black leather-bound book, gilded with shimmering gold-leaf. The title was elegantly scribed in the same gold, catching the low light of the bookshop beautifully, reading ‘The Canterbury Tales’.

Aziraphale gasped softly.

“It’ss one of o-only ten copies.” Crowley stuttered, puffing his chest out in pride. “And the only p-private copy in the world.”

“I know.” Aziraphale’s smile grew. “Where did you find this?”

“I told you.” Crowley said. “In a very, very cold room.”

“Oh, my dear.” Aziraphale dragged his eyes away from the book to look at Crowley. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Crowley said. “B-but I wanted to. And it would have been f-fine if it weren’t alsso sso bloody cold outsside.”

The angel gave him a fond smile, shaking his head.

“Guesss we missed that play, though.” Crowley frowned. “Ssorry about that.”

“That’s quite alright.” Aziraphale said, the fondness of his smile seeping into his words. “I think I’d rather stay inside in this weather anyways. Curl up under some blankets with a warm cup of cocoa… Care to join me?”

“Always, angel.”

#good omens #go #good omens fic #ineffable husbands

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firebeez · 1 year ago

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A ssilly story about oxygen concentrators that might make you smile.

My neighbours son was born with several health issues, and had one of these (Im pretty sure that's what it was) in his room when he was a kid. One day, my parents took me and my brother over to visit, I don't know how old we were but I think my brother was like 6ish? Anyways he went up to play with the neighbours son and at some point was alone with the machine.

Being a curious ADHD riddled child, of course he poked the weird machine. Somehow he turned something on, and it beeped. And then displayed a number. And then started counting down. Now, being a child, he was of course very smart. He knew what this was. He's seen it in movies! The blinking things that count down! It is of course, a bomb!

So, now convinced he has accidentally activated a bomb that was going to explode and kill everyone, he rushes downstairs to my parents, and in his best child whisper frantically begins insisting that we have yo leave, we need to ho home RIGHT NOW. My parents, completely baffled by this as he won't explain, decide to humor him since he's clearly upset. So they say their goodbyes, pack us up, and off we go. As they're driving home, thry ask what was wrong anc my brother finally explains about the bomb and how we had yo leave or we'd all die! My parents are now trying not to laugh too hard at him, and also ask. Okay, but why didn't you want the neighbors to get to safety too?? He didn't have an answer.

We now always tease him about the time he fully left the neighbors for dead for literally no reason because he thought the oxygen concentrator was a bomb.

With my new bestie, the Oxygen concentrator my toddler had dubbed "Boogie Blue"

#Fire flails through time and space #Im not good at telling stories #But I tried #I think it's funny

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ssunspotted · 5 years ago

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Vellsick and Belle have been quiet.

quick while they are away.

Vellsick. my love. met him at a time i hardly ccould keep myself in one place. met him at a time i was drowning. he held a hand out in patience for me so surely. gave a place tto learn to settle and to be still and ..ok. and to feel ok and to be. wanted. and to learn. saw the thingsi fought to do and gave me a pull up on solid ground to fight harder. he always has wanted to see me my best.. and i always have admired him.

his ssilly smirk has me smile every time i see it. his thin little hands. giddy just to watch him! the way he looks when he is collecting little parts of history in to the shelves or the library. caring for the gardens. perfect hair. stupid jokes. every dumb joke i fall in love he is a menace . his arms hold all of the dead while they rot aand life has a place to start in them again. a constant work. he. is a beautiful force. he is a beatiful man. balancing him self in who he is all of the time.

seen eachother at such lows and highs. Chose eachother and knew it was right. .i cant wait to marry him..

Belle! she is sunlight like an open window. arms open to me from when we first met and it felt..easy. felt easy every single step. if we had not had our long talks? opening up and opening up and holding each other accountable for our selves..

i dont think i would feel quite ..be .who i am. can be letting sourness eat me and shewill have the words to disarm me entirely haha.. fought hard for what we have .literally even. fought and dug our feet in and knew there was no way around it we could choose.

so much warmth! so contagious. in one little woman! one little artist! so bright andhelping new life into the world all of the time. so easy to love.

they both have changed my life.

#thegodofdecay #chicpsychic #my moon and sun

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fenrislorsrai · 5 years ago

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Raising the antichrist

“I trust Adam to not get into trouble beyond his ability to deal with or if he does, to ask for help.”

“He is very capable.” There was a bit of admiration in Aziraphale’s tone.

Mr Young lit pipe and took a few puffs to get it going. “Always been adventurous lad. No stopping him really once he has his mind set on something. Just really been trick of holding him back just enough that he can see the in-between steps to get to where he wants. It’s a balancing act between getting him to consider he could fail if he’s not careful but not making him so fearful he won’t do anything. You climbed up, now climb down instead of jumping from the top. Or at least wait til I’m there to catch you before you jump. Never had any fear of heights. Absolute devil of a toddler. Used to open all the kitchen drawers so he could climb on top of the fridge and jump off once he got bored. Miracle he never broke anything. It’s like he thought he could fly.”

“That sounds terrifying.” Crowley meant it. If she’d found Warlock doing that… “What did you do about it?”

“We tried latches first, but he kept figuring those out somehow and then we couldn’t get the drawers open ourselves. We ended up putting a bell on top of the fridge so he’d ring that if he figured out how to get up there. There he’d be sitting on top of the fridge, all smiles and clapping his hands going “down, down” at me. And then I’d let him jump down to my arms, so it was a game instead of us yelling at him. We shouldn’t be getting mad at him figuring it out. If we couldn’t outsmart a toddler, that was on us.”

“I don't think I could have stayed calm through that happening all the time. When did he stop?”

“Well we figured he need some kind of outlet that appealed to him more than the fridge. Deirdre signed him up for Mommy and Me swim classes and once he could swim, then he could climb up the diving board and jump off til he was too tired to do it again and was ready for a nap. Worked out in long run since we don’t have to be worried when the kids go off to the quarry to swim in summer. Should go out with them some time, see him show off all the fancy dives he knows.”

“Just so long as he’s not going to try and get us to jump off things. I can only swim well enough to get out of water I fell in and don’t much care for it.” Crowley shuddered dramatically, that sort of full body twitch like a horse dislodging flies.

“Really he’s likely only to coax you in long enough to make sure you can swim at all, if that. He's very sweet with the little kids that are still afraid of putting their face in the water. But for you, there’s usually a potluck out there just before fall term starts. I’ll ask Deirdre about the dates for this year. Then there’s as many people not swimming as are, so it won’t be odd if you chose not to go in.” There was no judgement in Mr. Young’s voice at Crowley’s obvious discomfort with swimming.

“Appreciate it. Though it seemss a ssilly thing to be… poor at at my age.” Crowley could hear that bit of hiss in her voice. Alright, scared of. Any open water over her head was really way too deep ever since… no. And diving and being totally submerged, definite no. She shuddered again at the whole idea.

“It’s a skill. I’m not nearly as good at it as Adam or even Deirdre. That’s been their thing together for awhile, so I haven’t gotten nearly as much practice. Lot of adults haven’t or just don’t enjoy it.”

Aziraphale chipped in. “I’m reasonable at swimming, though I can’t say it’s activity I’d usually pick. For this, I think I would rather need to wear something for that.”

“Yes, please. It’s not THAT sort of swim club.”

“Hang on, wait, angel, really?”

“Not recently. Bracing really. Supposed to be good for your health. But, not appropriate for this situation. I can probably find swim trunks in tartan.”

“Ngk.”

“Tartan is stylish.”

“That’s not… When were you skinny dipping?

“Last time I was in Finland. After a sauna. There’s the ice swimming club in London, of course, but it’s not quite the same experience and they do require a suit.”

“Ice… swimming... “

“Yes, go from sauna to hole cut in the ice for a brief dip. Very invigorating.” Aziraphale sounded very enthusiastic about the whole thing.

“I would DISCORPORATE. And humans do that for FUN?” Crowley might have nightmares about the entire concept later.

“There is usually a lot of drinking afterward. But it’s how a lot of business was done, so really, that’s why I took all those jobs for you, my dear. I knew you wouldn’t have enjoyed it.”

Mr Young fortunately seemed to be stuck on wrapping head around entire concept of Aziraphale being the one that thought this was fun, so might have missed the “discorporate” and “humans” part of the conversation. Probably. Hopefully. He was smoking his pipe in a way that said he was trying to adjust world view to match this information.

-----------------------------------

Just short scene pulled out of longer fic “Find Your Way” over on AO3 as I’ve seen relatively few fics that deal with what sort of issues Arthur & Deirdre might have had to deal with raising Adam. Its pretty clearly indicated that Adam had some power as a child from what was going on in Tadfield. The Youngs had to have been pretty good parents to have both coped with that and have had Adam turn out so normal.

Crowley would have had a nervous breakdown over this kind of thing. Kids are weird, but Not Like This.

#good omens #arthur young #gomens #Adam young

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