#asphalt guiltily gear

[quartzroolz]

New character, new edit.

[quartzroolz]

Good to see this is being put to good use.

(asphalt edit by @quartzroolz)

[thewhumperinwhite]

Guardian Angel, part 4

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

(I’m gonna make a masterpost for this one later today cause I’ve got.... Some Plans for this one)

@whumpitywhumpwhump

TW for: religion/Christianity, including probably some mild blasphemy; mild body horror (reanimated corpse); referenced seriously ill parent.

----

The priest seems like a nice enough guy, based on the not-even-two-minutes of interaction Karim has had with him. He’s also looking at Karim with deep concern and not moving from his seat in the front pew, so at this moment he’s Karim’s least favorite person on earth.

“I can’t tell you why I need it,” Karim says through gritted teeth. “I just need it. It’s an emergency.”

The priest’s frown deepens, and Karim fights back a frustrated groan. “What emergency are you having that you think holy water will help with?” the priest says, in the kind of calm voice you use for children you think are idiots.

“None of your business,” Karim snaps, because he’s way, way too stressed to come up with a convincing lie, and not crazy enough yet to think this guy with his carefully-ironed cassock and his uber-sensible wire-rimmed spectacles will believe the truth.

The priest sighs and removes the glasses, slowly, like a teacher who thinks you’re making them tired on purpose.

“Young man,” the priest says. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t bless water and just give it to you. The Church sanctions the use of holy water for a limited number of purposes. Now.” He looks at Karim with an over-exaggerated kindly-old-man expression. “I’d be happy to accompany you and help you with whatever emergency you’re facing.”

Karim scowls, and points behind him toward the back of the sanctuary. “You can’t pretend it’s a, a controlled substance or something, you’ve got a big bowl of it just sitting back there.”

The priest looks over Karim’s shoulder. At the end of the sanctuary’s center aisle there’s a big glass bowl nestled in the top of a carved wooden stand. He looks back at Karim, looking patiently disapproving in a way Karim hates down to his bones. 

“The font is intended to remind parishioners of their baptism when not in use,” he says, a bit more severe, and then his face softens and he turns to face Karim fully, folding his hands in his lap. “Young man, I’m happy to help, if something is frightening you. I understand there are many things you might wish for holy protection from. Tell me, what is it that’s got you so upset?”

Karim stares at the man for a second. Then he says, “Oh, fuck this,” and turns on his heel to run.

By the grace of God— who he can apologize to later, if he thinks of it— the bowl that comprises the top of the font isn’t secured to the bottom, just like he hoped. It’s heavy, but now that he is actively sprinting out of a church he’s filled with enough adrenaline that the weight seems very manageable. A little of it slops over the front of his hoodie when he spins to shove the door of the church open with his butt, but it’s still more than half full by the time he skids to a stop next to his mom’s car, awkwardly repositions the bowl— it’s way too big to hold securely, but by some miracle he doesn’t drop it, maybe that means God is fine with it after all— and pulls the car door open by shoving the toe of his sneaker under the handle and yanking it towards him.

“What the Hell are you doing?” the priest squawks from behind him, and Karim laughs hysterically.

Whatever else this is, it’s a much better distraction than stealing his mom’s car ever would have been.

Art half-sits up in the back of the car, his eyes widening when he sees Karim holding an entire baptismal font balanced on his knee. “The fuck are you—?”

“What do I do with it?” Karim yells, because they don’t have time for this.

Art blinks at him at the same time that he hears the church door slam behind him, which means the priest is only the length of the parking lot away now.

“Wh— fuck, here,” Art says, and he leans forward, grabs the edge of the bowl with his good hand, and tips the bowl toward himself. Karim follows his momentum, pouring the entire contents of the font over Art’s ruined arm and leg, and incidentally also soaking the rest of him and practically flooding the backseat of Karim’s mom’s car, which he doesn’t have time to think about at the moment.

Karim slams the back door, turns, holds up the empty font, and sets it down on the asphalt next to the car, and blurts, “Thanks Father!” before he spins, throws himself back into the driver’s seat, jams the car into gear and peels out of the parking lot literally as fast as the car will go. He looks up once to see the bewildered form of the priest, holding the bowl and staring after them, and then he grips the steering wheel hard, feeling laughter bubble unstoppably up out of his chest. He can feel the hysterical edge to it, but he doesn’t try to stop it; this is the best he’s felt in—well, in six months, at least.

He hears Art laugh, too, from the back, though he mostly sounds confused, and meets his eyes in the rearview mirror, grinning. “Did it work?”

Art laughs again, breathing hard, and his answer sounds a bit strained. “It’s— in the process of working.” Karim can hear some deeply unpleasant cracking sounds from behind him. In the rearview he can just see Art stretched out on the back seat, his neck a tight painful arch, exposing his scarred throat. “Fucking— hate this part,” Art mutters.

Karim catches his breath, though his stomach hurts pretty bad from laughing. “You need me to pull over?” he says, trying to watch the road while also craning to see if he can see what’s happening any better in the rearview.

“No no, it’s—ah—it’s fine. I’m—” Art laughs, bitterly. “Used to it.”

Karim frowns at the rearview, where he can see Art’s eyes squeezed shut in obvious pain, and once he’s put another three blocks between them and the church, he pulls into an empty parking lot and turns around in his seat.

“Jesus,” he says, wincing back immediately.

Art’s leg seems to be almost done knitting itself back together, but Karim does get to see about three seconds of the bones snapping back into place. Art collapses back against the seat, panting.

“God,” Karim says. “I’m— um. I’m sorry, dude. About hitting you.”

Art waves his newly-repaired arm dismissively, then lets his hand drop onto his forehead, where Karim can see the cracks where he hit the windshield have closed up, too. 

They’re a bit harder to see, now, lit by street lights at an odd angle, but it doesn’t look like the scars on his throat and arms have gone anywhere.

“‘sfine,” Art says breathlessly. “You’re lucky it was me, actually. Would’ve killed anybody else.” Pushing his hair out of his face, he cracks one eye to squint at Karim. “What the fuck were you going so fast for, anyway? And is this— what, Farah’s car?”

Karim jerks backward hard enough to honk the horn with his spine, making them both jump badly. “You know my mom’s name?” he blurts. That’s the most terrifying thing Art has said so far.

Art raises an eyebrow at him, like that’s funny. “I know Farah, yes,” he says, smirking. “You could not pay me to try and steal her car, to be honest. What the fuck—is—” He trails off, the smirk sliding off his face, and he sits up, running his hand through his hair and no longer looking at Karim. “Wait,” he says, apparently to himself. “2009. Shit.” Then he turns his head and looks at Karim like Karim has just turned into a hurt puppy before his very eyes. “Your father,” Art says quietly, and Karim feels his stomach muscles tense painfully, like he’s waiting for a blow. “I’m sorry. I forgot about that.”

Karim looks at the dead boy, and his ears immediately start to buzz a little.

“Is that why?” Art says softly, looking at Karim with his dead eyes full of pity. “Are you—”

“No,” Karim snaps. Art blinks, surprised, and Karim shakes his head, stiffly. “That’s not what we’re doing. I don’t know you from shit, and I’m not talking about this.”

He isn’t sure what he’s expecting—more pity, maybe, or else a fight—but Art nods immediately, saying “Okay, right, yeah, absolutely,” so fast he trips over the syllables. Karim watches his shoulders relax, like he’s grateful for the out, and it soothes a little of the knee-jerk that was building bitter at the back of Karim’s throat, too. “Absolutely, dear, whatever you need.”

Karim breathes out, trying to come down from his immediate defensive position, and then he shakes his head, slowly. “Hold on,” he says. “Hold on, you—you noticed the year right off,” he accuses, frowning at Art, who jumps guiltily. “I said it was 2009 and you—swore, or something, like you knew it was bad. You must have known about,” he swallows hard, makes it come out, “about m-my dad from the beginning, or… you…”

He trails off. Art is looking away, chewing on his cracked and colorless lower lip. When he looks back at Karim, his face is hard to read—somewhere between discomfort and nervousness and maybe guilt, too.

“What?” Karim says, alarmed.

“It’s, um. It’s gonna be kind of a big year,” Art says.

[midnightcindy]

To Love a Sinner: Chapter 3

        The usual. That meant that it was a normal night, nothing too crazy needed. Probably no body, just a little roughing up and then Alyn and Leo would be on their way. Hell, if the guy talked easily they might actually be getting to go home at a reasonable hour.

        The “usual” meant the auto warehouse across town. It was the perfect spot for Robert to secretly own as a front for his interrogation. Being a loan shark was a tough business; especially when the money came from illegal drug trafficking.

          The cracked asphalt leading up to the building was overgrown with weeds that had to be either stepped on or around. As Alyn and Leo shoved apart the large, industrial doors, they were met with a cheerful voice. “Hi guys!”

          Leo smiled warmly at the kid that jumped to meet them. “Hey, Nico. How’s things?”

          “Fine,” Nico said, tossing his thumb over his shoulder. “The boss is actually finishing up with this guy now. I’m surprised he even called you.”

          Alyn looked directly where Nico’s thumb pointed, and he could see a tall brunette, hair falling over his face, with blood splattered across his once pristine white dress shirt. There was someone, a faceless person whom Alyn would never need to know, tied to a chair and whimpering before him. The man reached behind him, and pulled the gun from his backpocket.

          Alyn didn’t even blink when the gun went off directly into the person’s head. Nico flinched, and turned back around to see the arc of red staining the floor. “Oh,” he said, “so that’s why he called you.”

          Just then, Robert glanced up, tossing his hair back. “Well look here,” he said warmly. “If it isn’t the Crawford twins come to join us.”

          Leo nodded, saying, “Evening, Robert.”

          Alyn only jerked his head toward the body, still propped in the chair. “You have us on clean up tonight?”

          Robert gestured with his arms outstretched toward Alyn, a grin on his face. “Ah, Alyn. Business first, as always.” Robert seemed to chuckle to himself as he walked toward the twins. “Just take care of it as you always do.”

          Alyn nodded, sweeping toward what was left of the figure in the chair. Leo stayed behind. “So Robert, about our pay for this month…”

          Alyn caught the bits of their conversation that echoed around the metallic space. Robert answered, “Of course, direct deposit as always…”

          Alyn glanced over to Nico, who was standing awkwardly at the side of the room. “Nico,” he called. “Come here.” It was lesson time.

          Nico quickly scuttled toward Alyn, who was standing directly in front of the body.

          “Now,” Alyn said, “What do you think we’re going to do with this?” Alyn smirked when Nico rattled off an exact procedure for getting rid of evidence. It was a proud moment.

          Later in the middle of the night, three figures stood on a boat just far enough off-shore so as not to be seen, in a part of the ocean that was particularly deep, and particularly full of fish that loved to feed on decomposing organic material. It was a quiet kind of work, a systematic routine that Alyn had gotten used to. It was mindless and familiar, and Alyn was able to distract himself from the exact circumstance as long as he kept to that routine. That was working well for him; until Leo piped up.

          “I know you like her,” Leo said, tying a rope around the corpse’s ankle.

          Alyn’s muscles bulged from beneath his black tee shirt, the leather gloves on his hands squeaking as he picked up the weight from the deck. He was still locked in his work moving the cinderblock, barely listening to Leo. “Hm?”

          Leo ran a matching gloved hand through his hair. “You’re into Billie, aren’t you?”

          Alyn dropped the heavy block onto the boat deck. His voice came out too loud when he said, “What?”

          “Who’s Billie,” Nico said excitedly from his spot on the railing, where he munched loudly on a bag of Twizzlers. He was similarly dressed, without any gloves. He was, after all, just observing for tonight.

          “No one,” Alyn said quickly, pointing at Nico.

          “She’s Alyn’s new girlfriend,” Leo teased, hopping up from his kneeling position at the foot of the dead body between them.

          “Shut the fuck up,” Alyn mumbled, kneeling down to attach the other end of the rope to the block of concrete.

          “Listen man,” Leo continued, shrugging as he walked leisurely toward Nico, “if you like her, it’s totally cool. I’ll step off.”

          “No,” Alyn growled beneath his breath, “I don’t like her.” He huffed loudly as he synched the final knot together and rose to his feet.

          Nico snorted, kicking his feet playfully on the side of the boat. “He’s totally lying,” he said to Leo, who chuckled as well.

          Alyn swept to the side of the boat and snatched the bag of candy from Nico to toss it into the water.

          “Hey!” Nico yelped, a candy braid dangling from his teeth. “That was my dinner!”


        “Tough shit,” Alyn said, stalking toward the body. He picked up the cinderblock again, scrunching his face with slight effort to set it on the railing. “Is anybody gonna help me or are we just here to gossip about who I’m fucking?”

          Leo raised his hands, moving to help his brother. Nico pouted, still bitter about his lost candy. The two moved together, Alyn directing Nico to balance the block on the edge of the boat’s rail while the twins heaved the body over the side. Nico shoved the block off as the figure hit the waves, and the three of them watched the faceless person sink into the depths.

          There was a moment of silence as the person disappeared. “So,” Nico said, nudging Alyn’s arm. “You are fucking her?”

          Alyn shoved Nico back, harder than necessary, and ripped off his gloves.

          Leo laughed loudly, watching his brother stomp into the cockpit. He tore off his own gloves, disposing of them, and then slipped Nico a fist bump. “Really Alyn, I don’t get what the big deal is,” Leo chimed, sitting behind Alyn on the floor.

          “I already told you, Leo,” Alyn said, shoving the boat into gear, “I don’t like Billie. She’s a good fuck, but that’s it.”

          “And I’m telling you,” Leo said, pulling a carton of cigarettes from his pocket and placing one between his lips, “you’re lying to yourself. I’ve seen the way you act after sex, man. That’s not just a casual fuck to you.”

          “Woah,” Nico said, leaning on the doorway, having to brace himself as Alyn shot the boat forward. “You watch them have sex?”

          Leo laughed, flicking his lighter to light the cigarette. “Nico,” he said, taking a drag. “Alyn and I have a special relationship with this lady. She’s into both of us.”

          Nico’s eyes widened, then he shrugged, and plopped down next to Leo. “Impressive. She hot?”

          Leo groaned. “Fucking sexy. Kinda freaky, too, but she’s all class when it comes down to it. She’s a real doll, I can see why Alyn is falling in love with her.”

          “When did we decide this?” Alyn almost shouted.

          Leo chuckled. “Dude, it’s cool! Just take her out on a date or something.”

          “No,” Alyn shot. “I am not into Billie. I do not want to take her on a date. I do not want her to myself. Our current relationship is fine.”

          “Ah,” Nico chimed in, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Fine, but it could be great. It could be perfect.”

          “Nico,” Alyn hissed. “One more word from you and I’ll send you down with the next corpse.”

          Nico pursed his lips together quickly, earning a chuckle from Leo. “Alyn, what’s wrong? You’ve dated girls before.”

          “Yeah, and they’ve all ended horribly,” Alyn said, a little too honestly. He winced. He thought about the girls he had taken out before. He could wine and dine, he could be a gentleman; but none of it was real. Leo went quiet, and Alyn sighed. “It doesn’t matter if I like Billie or not,” he said quietly, shoulders slumping. “I’ll still be spending most of my nights out here, dumping dead people into the ocean.”

          “What, you’re worried about her judging you?” Leo shook his head, his words coming out with puffs of smoke. “She already knows what we do for a living, man. She doesn’t care.”

          “That’s because she doesn’t have to live with it,” Alyn said, turning the wheel to avoid a swelling wave. “I do. She can fuck a couple of gangsters and then go home and have a cup of coffee, curled up with a cat or whatever she does. She doesn’t need to be pulled into this any more than she already is.” Alyn ducked his head, hair covering his eyes. “I don’t get that kind of life.”

          Leo took a long drag on his cigarette, staring guiltily down at the floor. “Alyn, I’m sorry.”

          “No,” Alyn said, straightening his shoulders. “What we have is good for now. It’s easy. It’s simple. It works.” Alyn shifted down, pulling the boat into Robert’s private dock. He sighed. “Just leave it alone.”

          Leo stuck the cigarette between his teeth as he pulled himself to his feet. He clapped Alyn on the shoulder. “All right, man. If you insist.”

          Nico hopped up beside him, and clung to Alyn’s arm. “I’ll love you, Alyn,” he said sweetly, eyes glistening as he stared up.

          Alyn stared down at the kid’s big moony eyes, and laughed. He ruffled Nico’s pink hair, and smiled. “Thanks Nico, I owe you some Twizzlers.”

          Nico grinned, and hopped off the boat. Alyn stared down at the steering wheel, the moon reflecting off his knuckles. He closed his eyes, thinking for a moment that Billie’s face wouldn’t appear on the back of his eyelids. He was wrong.

[quartzroolz]

Brisket and Asphalt are lesbian and a couple. I don't care what anyone says, I will fistfight Daisuke in a Wendy's parking lott to make it canon damn it.