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artnerd1123 · 4 years ago

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Among Us: CR3WM8TS

Docked and Loaded ——————————————

The ship finally arrives at the newly established Sector G base on a new planet. Hopefully, start of work goes smoothly. Hopefully the logs are functioning well, too...

Among Us archive/askblog Fic chapters post

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once again i am chopping a chapter in half to keep it from getting too long. anyway!!! more normal crewmate troubles n dorkiness with some ominous vibes for Flavor (tm). hopefully the next part will come out sometime soon! enjoy this for now!

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Mission Log 10

Ship Model: SKELD D34-H120 Designation: SUPPLY TRANSPORT, EXPLORATION AND DOCUMENTATION OF SECTOR G PLANETS Crewmate Count: 9 Crewmate Colors: DARK GREEN, WHITE, PURPLE, DARK BLUE, YELLOW, RED, LIME, BLACK, PINK

Location: SECTOR G Ship Status: IN TRANSIT Course: PLANET 326-OCE-894 - SECTOR G Systems:

Navigation: COURSE INLAID / STABLE

Engines: UPPER - ONLINE, TANK 0.86 / LOWER - ONLINE, TANK 0.83 / OUTPUT ALIGNED

Reactor: ONLINE / FUNCTIONING OPTIMAL

O2: STABLE

Electrical: STABLE

Communications: ONLINE

Shields: ONLINE / FUNCTIONING OPTIMAL

Weapons: ONLINE / FUNCTIONING OPTIMAL

Security: CAMERAS ONLINE / ALL FUNCTIONAL

Administration: MAP ONLINE / CONNECTION SECURE / SHIP FILES UP TO DATE / ALL CREW ACCOUNTED FOR

Medbay: EQUIPMENT ONLINE / FUNCTIONAL / CREW FILES UP TO DATE

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

Notes: Updates by PINK still taking well to system. Travel into sector G uneventful. Crew bonding time worked into today’s schedule, all crew in attendance for at least an hour. Crew performing normal activities.

===+===+===

Mission Log 15

Location: SECTOR G Ship Status: DOCKED AT [PLANET 326-OCE-894 - SECTOR G] Course: N/A Systems:

Navigation: COURSE REACHED / STABLE

Engines: UPPER - ONLINE, TANK 0.72 / LOWER - ONLINE, TANK 0.68 / OUTPUT ALIGNED

Reactor: ONLINE / FUNCTIONING OPTIMAL

O2: STABLE

Electrical: STABLE

Communications: ONLINE

Shields: OFFLINE / FUNCTIONING N/A

Weapons: OFFLINE / FUNCTIONING N/A

Security: CAMERAS ONLINE / ALL FUNCTIONAL

Administration: MAP OFFLINE / CONNECTION SECURE / SHIP FILES UPDATING FOR MISSION / ALL CREW ACCOUNTED FOR

Medbay: EQUIPMENT ONLINE / FUNCTIONAL / CREW FILES UP TO DATE

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

Notes: [SKELD D34-H120] docked at [PLANET 326-OCE-894 - SECTOR G] successfully. No transport issues to report. All supplies for transport intact and in transfer process to base. Mission files currently integrating to ship system. Crew integrating to mission base to assist in tasks, exploration, and supply dropoff. Weapons and shields offline to align with docking procedures. Course will remain unlaid until HQ supplies further information.

===+===+===

It had been a good long while since Bunbun worked on an exploration ship. She’d been stuck updating supply line SKELDs for awhile, and got bogged down repairing virus bound code in defensive SKELDs for longer. Exploration ships were like little breathers in the middle. It meant she just had to worry about one ship, once all the updates were done. She could sit and watch the stars. Make a friend, if she was lucky. And, on days like these, it meant she’d be helping out with something bigger. Planet 236-OCE-849 was a gorgeous world. A new one, too! Sector G was largely new to HQ. They had high hopes for the planets and inhabitants. This one in particular was the first they’d set up a base on. Crashing waves and strange colorful formations were the source of many rumors across the airwaves. Bun had been unable to see the planet’s surface as they descended, but the views before they made landing preparations were breathtaking. Most of it was enveloped by an ocean. The water bound world was like a painted marble, little bits of vibrant colors poking through. She’d never seen land so vivid. It made her all the more eager to get down to the surface.

The door of the ship opened with a loud hiss of pressurized air. Metal clanked against itself as the two halves pulled themselves apart, the groaning making everything in the vicinity go still. Of course, what happened afterwards was anything but. The gangplank was already lowered, so the cooped up crewmates came scrambling out. Captain Groud was first, their voice echoing back towards the ship as they called for the Mission Lead. Silk trailed after, one of xyr robots hot on xyr heels. Rose and Laser went off as a pair, aiming to tend to any wounded and check how defenses were going. Nanner emerged with supplies already loaded, a couple crewmates from the planet coming to help her transport them where needed. Lemon and Junior were off to check the base’s energy status, the son sticking anxiously close to his father. River, to no one’s surprise, sauntered off the ship to go find somewhere to lounge. Groud said he’d help when they needed him, but from the looks the rest of the crew gave, there was probably a fat chance. That left Bunbun walking down the gangplank last. She was glad now that she’d pulled down her solar visor. The light outside was nearly blinding compared to the ship’s lobby. Around her she could see miles and miles of open sea, the bluish purple waves almost hauntingly familiar. Like an echo of the blue green waters she had back at home… I wonder why the water here is more purple… I bet Rose might know. She only took her eyes off the ocean when something crunched under her boot. She drew back hastily, afraid she’d stepped on some planetary inhabitant- only to draw in a sharp breath from surprise. The ground she stood on was a bright pastel orange. Upon closer inspection, it looked to be made out of some sort of… finely webbed rock? Coral, she realized, eyes widening. Her gaze snapped up to the island they’d landed on. The whole thing looked like a fractured rainbow, colors radiating across the ground. It was all made of the same webbed rock- coral, as she’d remembered. The realization had her bouncing on her heels. I’m standing on an island made of coral!!! She took another hesitant step. It crunched again under her foot. She couldn’t keep herself from giggling as she kept moving, feet dancing over coral that shifted from orange to yellow to green to purple. A myriad of colors, and all so bright!!! She’d never laid eyes on anything quite like it. “Enjoying the scenery?” a voice called, snapping Bun out of her happy dance. She froze in place, instantly standing to attention and trying not to drop her tablet. Another voice laughed, the sound carrying closer as her face flushed. When Groud’s star patched green and Silk’s beat up purple came into view, she let herself breathe. Ok. So. She hadn’t entirely made a fool out of herself. These two, at least, knew who she was. “M-maybe a little, Captain, eheheh,” she called sheepishly. “I’ve never been on a planet with coral islands before.” “Well, it’s a treat for you then!” Groud laughed. “Hey, if you’re not busy, why don’t you go head down to the power room?” “Oh, are the base crewmates busy?” Bun blinked. “Yeah, a little,” Groud nodded. “There’s a lot going on. Lots to update and lots to move.” “That, and Lemon ‘n Junior said they might need some help,” Silk added. Between you and me, I think they just want someone they can rely on to help figure the energy out.” Bunbun’s face flushed again, the warmth from Groud’s voice and Silk’s visor-shadowed smile buoying her mood higher. She’d only been with this crew a few days, but they trusted her this much? … Honestly, she couldn’t tell if that was foolish or not. But things needed fixing, and her crewmates needed help. So, off she went.

The base layout was pretty standard. It was a bit compressed to fit the strange coral island, but they’d managed to fit everything in about the right place. Lucky for Bun, she didn’t have too far to go. The building to the gangplank’s right would give her access to Electrical’s courtyard. The crunching of multicolored polyps beneath her feet made her smile with giddiness, picking up the pace to get inside the base. The door was already left open- standard procedure for operating periods- so she strolled right through. Nobody seemed to be waiting for her in the building’s lobby. She’d guess they were all outside, if it weren’t for a few voices. She could hear a couple people down in the security area. River and some other security crewmates, if her auditory memory served. They were talking pretty boisterously. She hooked a hasty left out towards the courtyard, eager to move on before one of them noticed her. The courtyard was once again standard. Four generators, one control panel along the outside wall, and cagey wire fencing around the edges. Bunbun found herself wondering once again what that was meant to keep out. On a new planet like this, nobody really knew what to expect. It could be anything. Images of creeping beasts and flashing eyes started to bubble up, so she shoved the thought out of her mind. It was fine! The fence would do its job, surely. Just as she would do hers. It’s fine. Lemon and Junior were standing before the control panel, their confused chatter making Bun glad they enlisted her help. From the frustrated looks on their faces, they needed it. They should teach more cross system repair in the academy… oh dear… “You two need some help?” Bun called, striding over to the panel. The pair looked up, relief instantly appearing on their faces. “Bunbun, thank fuck,” Lemon sighed. He leaned against the wall, pulling his goggles back up over unruly red hair. “we’re really goin through the ringer here…” “Y-yeah, uh, any help would be really appreciated,” Junior added sheepishly. He fiddled with his tablet, nervous fingers closing out a couple HQ manual tabs. “Of course, guys,” Bunbun smiled shyly. She tilted her head at the open panel, a mess of wires greeting her. Well. That was. Not encouraging. Her brows furrowed the more she looked, eyes trying to trace input to output and back. “... ok. I uh. I see several problems here.” “That’s an understatement,” Lemon snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t even know where to start.” “Did you make sure to take the relevant systems offline?” Bun asked. “Already done,” Junior nodded. He held up his tablet, a couple tabs pulled up to show electrical systems operating on reserve. “We can’t keep it offline for too long, or else the lights are gonna go out. Which, um, wouldn’t be super fun.” “Right, we’ll have to move fast,” Bunbun replied. “I think I can manage that.” Rubbing her hands together, she eyed the mess of wires before them. She’d handled worse, right? This wouldn’t take too terribly long. It was only when she remembered the other two were watching that her confidence faltered. Was she supposed to help? Was it even ok to take over here??? “... Is, um, is it ok if I… uh… manage it…?” She chuckled timidly, scuffing a boot on the ground. “By all means, dear,” Lemon chuckled, giving her a little dramatic bow as he moved back. “I’ll give you all the space you need.” “Just remember we’re here to help if you need!” Junior offered, scooting back to his dad’s side. He smiled nervously, the sun flashing off his visor as he shifted a bit in place. Gathering courage, if his next little quip was anything to go by. “We might, uh, know the reactor better, but we still know our way around a pair of wire cutters! Eheheheh...” Bunbun smiled gratefully at them both. “Of course, thank you. I’m, um, gonna get on this as fast as I can.” With that, she fixed her attention on the wires once more. Whoever set this base up hadn’t been picky about organization. She could fix that easy enough. She’d just… start by sorting the colors. Taking a breath, the electrician hefted up her tablet, free hand reaching carefully for the nearest red wire. Yeah. This would be over in a sinch. And maybe later, she could go explore a bit more. The thought made her grin wide, fingers flying between wires even faster. Oh, yes. Seeing some more of this beautiful planet would be worth any circuitry headaches. She’d just have to remember to add this to the ship’s log later…

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SHIP SYSTEM REALTIME LOG: System setting: DOCKED [STORAGE AND VENT MONITORING]

Location: SECTOR G Ship Status: DOCKED AT [PLANET 326-OCE-894 - SECTOR G] Course: N/A Systems:

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

…

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT

Storage Chutes: MATERIAL BUILDUP DETECTED

Vents: CLEAR

…

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

#cr3wm8ts #au:c #among us oc #bunbun among us #groud among us #silk among us #river among us #lemon among us #junior among us #thats everyone who actually gets like. dialogue of some sort LSKJDFLSKF #n e way #yea this was half an excuse to have more bun bein a nerd in the bgLSKJFS #this planet? important #the next chapter's gonna swap perspectives tho so >:333 #hope y'all enjoy SLKDJF #arty writes

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patchdotexe · 4 years ago

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So basics of what the AU is? Can ask better questions when I know what I’m questioning:P

i did a bunch of scribbles for it here but!! basically “what if everybody was aliens with cool powers from a setting i made in 9th grade”

Henry is an unnamed species that is kinda hard to explain but they have an innate ability to adapt&evolve in response to any situation, including gaining new powers or shapeshifting into something that better fits the environment or etc. these adaptions can also be brought on by strong emotions! the flipside of this is that is that if a shift is strong enough to where they kinda lose their sense of self / identity, it can lead to them “fracturing” and splitting apart into two people: one of which is the original, and the other which is based entirely off the shift.

henry... doesn’t do that all the way. henry doesn’t fracture. he still gains new bullshit superpowers, and he does do some shapeshifting stuff sometimes, but it never gets to the point of a shift in identity that would cause a fracture. this is a Pretty Big Deal because it means henry just has a whole lot of shit in his repertoire, on top of being an anomaly because his species doesn’t originate in that universe-- henry has no idea how he got here and no memory of who&where he was before, and was going to be captured by the CCC after his big heist if not for the government getting to him first.

also, because he’s henry, he does still have timeline weirdness! this might actually be why he doesnt fracture, because everything is already happening So Much.

Charles is a limolus, the primary species of the setting! he’s an ace pilot, and was stationed on Earth for a while as part of an assignment, which led to him picking up an embarrassing amount of American culture, including knowing what Fortnite is. he also got a pair of headphones & a cool jacket! the jacket somehow fits him, the headset doesn’t but he loves it too much and wears it constantly even if Galeforce keeps trying to get him to not. he also learned English while on assignment, and “Charles” was the name he was given by the humans he interacted with on base because they couldn’t pronounce his original name and he kept it.

as a limolus, charles has some psychic abilities! he mainly uses telepathy to bother henry long-range, but can also levitate and has some other fun tricks up his sleeve. also he has the fun ability to crash himself into things at top speeds because of his levitation meaning he can just slingshot himself around regardless of physics. henry dislikes this.

Ellie is also a limolus! i dont have as many details down on her yet bc most of all that ^ was came up with while drawing and i only did a couple sketches of her before getting tired, but her psychic powers are way stronger than charles’s and she’s a force to be reckoned with. she’s definitely got some kind of mysterious past, considering she still got locked up in a maximum-security prison.

the Toppats are infamous space pirates & thieves known throughout the solar system. they’re a whole lot of random species-- Reginald’s a musae, aka a fucked up long weasel basically-- and they are going to be hell to design.

uhhh god thats so many words i am SO sorry

#leo chirps #henry stickmin #leos reply #pat.txt #limoliverse #stickmolus au #skyscream3112 #ask #txt

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ranma-rewatch · 4 years ago

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Episode 20: You Really Do Hate Cats!

(CONTENT WARNING: This blog post contains discussion of phobias, child abuse, and people doing the worst thing to intensify those problems. Those things are in the show, I didn’t just bring them up out of nowhere.)

Well, it’s that time again. Time to grab a balloon and tell my friends what I think of an episode of Ranma 1/2. We’re starting the first arc of season two with this episode, though oddly enough I feel like I mostly remember what stuff is going to happen in it. But maybe I don’t remember right? I’d love it if that is the case. Though...speaking of that...there is a certain character I have dreaded appearing in this series, and I’d hoped he wouldn’t appear for a while, but I checked and he appears this season. I...I thought I had more time. Oh well, let’s do this episode and I’ll worry about him when he gets here.

Okay, well, for the most part, this episode is actually a lot better than I remember it being. As it turns out, some of the details mutated in my head in the decade since I last saw it, and I actually thought things were worse than they were.

The episode starts in the Kuno manor, where our favorite swordsman is practicing to once again fight Ranma Saotome. But he’s not alone, because for the first time we meet Kuno’s henchman, Sasuke. He’s a ninja, and he’ll do whatever Kuno tells him to do, but he probably won’t do it very well.

From there, we see Ranma’s dad is training him in stupid ways again, and they get back to the house to find Shampoo has mailed Ranma something from China: a pink cat. That’s a problem, because Ranma has a severe cat phobia. It’s not random, either, Genma directly created it. See, when Ranma was 6, Genma thought he should teach his son Cat Fu, which he heard about from an ancient martial arts manuscript. The way to teach it is to cover the disciple in fish sausage and through them into a room with starving cats.

Obviously, that just ended up traumatizing Ranma, and the very next page of the book would have told Genma that training someone that way is very stupid. Kasumi, drawing on the common misunderstandings people have about exposure therapy, thinks that just inviting a ton of cats to be around will help, but of course it doesn’t, it makes Ranma even more distressed. Sasuke is hiding under the floorboards though, and he runs off to tell Kuno about Ranma’s weakness.

At first, Kuno says something about how he could never cowardly use an opponent’s weakness to unfairly win, but then he still makes Sasuke tell him about it, because he can still use it to win in an honorable way. The plan they go for is pretty ridiculous: they leave a note in Ranma’s locker that Akane’s been kidnapped, and he has to go to the gym to save her. But Akane is standing next to Ranma as he reads the note, so he knows that’s not true.

He goes anyway out of curiosity, only to find Sasuke there dressed up as Akane. With the wrong color wig. Even though the trap keeps failing, Ranma walks into it anyway because he has nothing better to do, until he realizes what is going on: cats. But Ranma manages to fight the fear and pretend he’s okay, hoping to just take Akane out of there, but then it becomes clear Sasuke took the extra step of also bringing an enormous tiger.

That’s when we cut back to Genma and Kasumi, and the old man explains that he tried curing Ranma of his phobia, but his way of doing so was to just keep throwing him at hungry cats, only changing the type of food attached to his body. All of it just made the problem worse, but it also actually led to Ranma developing Cat Fu. When Ranma gets scared enough, his mind just let’s go and he mentally becomes a cat.

That happens in the basement of the school, making it easy for him to beat the tiger and escape, just in time to kick Kuno’s butt without even trying. But he doesn’t stop there, and starts running around the school still acting like a cat. Akane follows him just as the dads show up. Genma says the only way to break Ranma out of it when he was a kid was with the help of a kindly old lady, but she’s dead. So, Genma tries dressing up and doing it himself. That fails, so they try catnip, forgetting that Ranma just thinks he’s a cat, so the stuff doesn’t really affect him.

The situation does kind of solve itself, as Ranma doesn’t attack Akane, as she’s afraid of, but instead curls up in her lap to purr. The whole school is watching, so that’s embarrassing for her, but then he kisses her and she freezes for a second before throwing Ranma into the school pool. Oh, and the pink cat is watching and didn’t like that. The curse activating returns his brain to normal, and Ranma has no clue why he was thrown in a pool. Akane walks home, cursing Ranma for doing that, but sounding conflicted.

So, the big thing I misremembered about this episode was I thought Genma did all the cat stuff with 0 thoughts about how it would affect Ranma and not giving a crap how it affected his son. That is actually not the case, he’s clearly really torn up about the phobia, though he still says some bad stuff about Ranma being ‘unmanly’ for having a phobia. He even tried to cure Ranma, a few times. It’s just that, well, his actions still traumatized Ranma. Sufficient ignorance is indistinguishable from malice, as they say. Genma is still, on the whole, abusive to Ranma in my opinion, but he’s not as bad as he could have been, I have to admit.

This was also just a funny episode. The comedy largely worked, even if some of the jokes didn’t quite land. Kuno and Sasuke were especially good, and I found Ranma fighting his fear both humorous and kind of inspiring. The man has a hell of a willpower. Not going to lie, the Cat-Ranma just immediately going for Akane’s lap and then kissing her was cute, I really liked that. Of course, I’m a sucker for anything with them, so I’m an easy mark there.

It’s also interesting how this works as the first part of a large arc, because if you didn’t know that was the case I can imagine thinking this was just a standalone episode. The pink cat was the impetus for the plot, but it’s what will drive the coming episodes forward.

One thing I found annoying was how different the dub and sub were this time around, in terms of script. The dub had a lot more bashing of Ranma for being scared of cats, including from Akane. That isn’t in the subtitled version at all, and I thought the episode worked a lot better there. I’m always a fan of taking liberties with a localization in order to make the story work better in the new country, but I don’t think we needed Akane insulting Ranma for his trauma.

Hey, a Character Spotlight again! Haven’t had one of these in a bit, and this one is for Sasuke Sarugakure. Let’s start with his voice actors. In the English dub, he’s voiced by Robert O. Smith. Does that name sound familiar? It should, I talked about him recently, since he’s the one who voiced Genma Saotome in the dub as well. His voice for Sasuke is extremely comedic, going for an over-the-top pathetic voice. He makes Sasuke just sound like comic relief, which he is. What’s interesting is what the other actor does with him.

In Japanese, he’s played by Shigeru Chiba, another voice actor from this show in Japan who is just known for a billion things. Standouts include Buggy the Clown in One Piece, Emperor Pilaf and Raditz in the Dragon Ball franchise, and dubbing over John de Lancie as Discord in the Japanese dub of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I was completely shocked to hear him play Sasuke with more gravitas, using a very serious voice that one would expect from a ninja, which clashed perfectly with the situations and his character design to make the comedy far better than in the dub. One of those rare times I’m actually preferring the Japanese version!

As a character, Sasuke is interesting because he’s not in the manga at all. For reasons none seem to know, the creative team for the anime decided to delay introducing minor character Hikaru Gosenkugi, and replaced him with Sasuke. We’ll get to Hikaru when he appears, but I don’t really mind Sasuke’s addition to the show. Giving Kuno a henchman just makes his dynamic even better, and there’s something I just really like to Sasuke’s almost naive way of trying to plot and scheme. I don’t actually have any deep analysis, at least not as of yet, just wanted to give him a moment in the Spotlight for being something interesting.

I didn’t expect to like this episode so much! It wasn’t great, there were parts I didn’t care for, but on the whole I’m happy to see my expectations overcome. I’m putting this episode in the middle of the pack, at the #10 slot. It was fun, but it has a lot of better episodes when it comes to making me smile. (Or cry.)

Episode 7: Enter Ryoga, the Eternal ‘Lost Boy’

Episode 12: A Woman's Love is War! The Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 15: Enter Shampoo, the Gung-Ho Girl! I Put My Life in Your Hands

Episode 9: True Confessions! A Girl's Hair is Her Life!

Episode 2: School is No Place for Horsing Around

Episode 19: Clash of the Delivery Girls! The Martial Arts Takeout Race

Episode 6: Akane's Lost Love... These Things Happen, You Know

Episode 13: A Tear in a Girl-Delinquent's Eye? The End of the Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 17: I Love You, Ranma! Please Don’t Say Goodbye

Episode 20: You Really Do Hate Cats!

Episode 16: Shampoo's Revenge! The Shiatsu Technique That Steals Heart and Soul

Episode 8: School is a Battlefield! Ranma vs. Ryoga

Episode 11: Ranma Meets Love Head-On! Enter the Delinquent Juvenile Gymnast!

Episode 4: Ranma and...Ranma? If It’s Not One Thing, It’s Another

Episode 5: Love Me to the Bone! The Compound Fracture of Akane's Heart

Episode 1: Here’s Ranma

Episode 3: A Sudden Storm of Love

Episode 10: P-P-P-Chan! He's Good For Nothin'

Episode 14: Pelvic Fortune-Telling? Ranma is the No. One Bride in Japan

Episode 18: I Am a Man! Ranma's Going Back to China!?

Next time we’ll continue this tale with "This Ol' Gal's the Leader of the Amazon Tribe!" which, as you might guess from the title, will introduce a new character. This one’s actually from the manga! See you then, y’all.

#episode 20 #You Really Do Hate Cats!#ranma 1/2 #ranma saotome #genma saotome #akane tendo #tatewaki kuno #sasuke sarugakure #anime rewatch #anime analysis #cw: phobia #cw: childhood trauma

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yamisnuffles · 4 years ago

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Dig Down

Part 9 of Too Much of a Good Thing

Hell comes to congratulate Crowley on the Spanish Inquisition. When Crowley's curiosity gets the better of him, he ends of shaken to the core.

Read on Ao3

“You, my friend, are a terrible model.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow at Leonardo. “What? How can anyone be a terrible model? All I have to do is sit about. Maybe you’re just a terrible artist.”

“Maybe so.” Leonardo laughed and set his sketch aside. “But I would hardly call what you do sitting.”

Crowley had one foot tucked underneath him and the other thrown over the arm of the chair. He was reasonably certain he hadn’t started in this position. He’d done his best to channel Aziraphale, back straight and hands folded neatly on his lap, when first Leonardo had started his drawing. He flung both of his legs out and used the momentum to stand. His floor length braid swung pendulously behind him.

“Can’t help it,” he said with an easy shrug. “Sitting around that long is unnatural.”

Leonardo gave him an appraising look. “What’s unnatural is the way you walk.”

Crowley stilled instantly. “What’s wrong with the way I walk?”

“I didn’t say it was wrong. Really, it’s quite pleasant to watch but it does make me long to see the muscle and bone beneath. There is certainly something intriguing going on there.”

Aziraphale had commented a few times on the way he walked. Then again, Aziraphale had also commented on his hands, his nose, his hair, his eye, his freckles, his knees, his teeth, and everything else about him. To hear it from another, he worried he didn’t look as convincingly human as he hoped. It made him conscious of every step to a degree that very nearly caused him to trip. He saved himself by leaning against the table where Leonardo’s sketch had been cast aside.

He plucked the red chalk drawing up between long, spindly, ostensibly human fingers and examined it with eyes he knew were not a color found amongst mortal men. The face was cleverly rendered but everything from the shoulders down was decidedly more gestural.

“Mind if I take this?”

Leonardo dismissed the image with a wave. “Go right ahead. I can hardly use it for anything, though perhaps you can repay me by sitting for a portrait. Your face makes for a good study, even if the rest of you refuses to behave. You’d make an interesting angel, I think.” When Crowley sputtered incoherently in response, Leonardo laughed again. “A piece I was commissioned for,” he explained. “Or, part of one, anyway. For now, I have other work to do and I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your angel.”

Crowley felt his cheeks burn. Rather than try for a reply he knew would only come out as a garbled mess, he carefully rolled up the drawing and bobbed his head in thanks. “Well, whenever you want to get that portrait done, you know where to find me,” he said as he hastily made his exit from the studio. He could only take so much embarrassment in one day and he was sure Aziraphale had stored some up for him back at their villa.

Once he was out of the busy streets of Milan, he snapped his fingers. A note appeared, tucked into the drawing. A gift from our mutual friend, it read, to help you anticipate my return home. A grin and another snap sent it ahead. He could have gone with it but he enjoyed walking the Italian countryside. It put him in mind of breathless, startled confessions of love and kisses under the stars that added a spring to his step. He couldn’t bring himself to worry if that walk was passably human or not. He was all but skipping down the sun baked road when the smell of something putrid wafted through the summer air. He skidded to a halt just in time to avoid tripping over Hastur as he rose up through the hard packed dirt.

Crowley scowled. He should have miracled himself home and saved himself the trouble. He could very well still leave but if Hastur was bothering him, it was for a reason. It always was. It was also always something miserable that he didn’t want Aziraphale dragged into. He’d had a few hundred year’s peace after their initial meeting and, while Hastur hadn’t come around with any more job offers, he usually bore information. Wretched, gut wriggling stuff that Crowley was probably better off not knowing but could never seem to resist.

He had enough time to collect himself, to cross his arms and pretend at calm. Annoyance. He knew he could fight if he needed but he really preferred not to. Luckily it had been some time since a demon had forced him to it. Chances were today would be no different. All the same, he’d keep himself wound and ready, should it come to it.

Hastur emerged fully with a sneer already on his face. Crowley resisted the urge to push him right back down into the earth and instead asked, “What do you want? You’re sort of ruining my attempt to enjoy the fresh air.”

The corners of Hastur’s mouth widened slow and sloppily as the filth he reeked of until it formed a too wide smile. “Just came to congratulate you, Crowley. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

Crowley merely blinked. He couldn’t think of anything of note that he’d done in the past couple of centuries. Really, he’d been remarkably good, even by his own sometimes nebulous standards. He’d helped inspire a saint or two, been a patron of the arts, and had handed out the occasional blessing. Mostly he whiled away the time with Aziraphale, wherever they found themselves living as Aziraphale did jobs for Heaven. He’d even taken on a few of Aziraphale’s jobs, first as a way to let Aziraphale chase his own pursuits and then simply because he’d wanted to. Aside from helping a fellow angel skip work, he’d practically been a model angel.

“Hit your head on the way up from Hell, did you? I haven’t done anything.”

“Don’t be so modest. Weaponizing questions, really. Everyone Downstairs is impressed with this one. I’m almost jealous.”

Crowley felt a prickling down his spine. Something about this put his teeth on edge. Other than the obvious, that it was Hastur speaking to him, he didn’t know what it was about this that made him so uneasy. He wanted urgently to be home with Aziraphale. It wasn’t just the usual desire to be with his husband but something deeper than his bones. Deep as his very essence. This was the sort of warning urge that had sent him deep into the stars, once upon a time, a warning that things would shift irreparably if he did not act.

He shook the stiffness from his limbs. No need to be tense. No need to run. It was just Hastur and whatever he was babbling about. He hadn’t done anything- he really hadn’t- and nothing the demon said would change that. He took a step to walk around the demon. “If you’re done…”

Hastur angled himself to stop Crowley. He would have grabbed him if Crowley hadn’t already been on the defensive and ready to slip away. “Tell me how you did it? How’d you talk the humans into this Inquisition in Spain?”

- - - -

Crowley wasn’t sure what day it was. He wasn’t sure where he was but the near empty bottle in his hand implied a tavern or something of the sort. Usually drinks were poured into cups, though, so there was a chance he’d grabbed a bottle and taken it somewhere. That, or someone had let him simply drink from the bottle. Either way, probably not any sort of fine establishment. He wasn’t sure if he felt good or bad, either, but that was by design— don’t feel anything, don’t think. Seemed to be working fantastically judging by the fact that he could neither see, sit, nor think straight.

“There you are.”

That voice was familiar. Made something warm settle into the sloshing sea of alcohol in his system. “Here I am,” he agreed.

“Perhaps you should stop drinking a moment and look at me.”

Crowley sank down to embrace the bottle. The glass was cool against the side of his face. It felt nice. “Nah. Think I’ll just stay like this,” he said. Or, tried to say, judging by the slurred garble that slipped out of his mouth.

There was a long sigh. “Crowley.”

The bottle was carefully pried from his grip. He tried to resist, muttered a few choice curses, but was easily left slumped against his own folded arms. A gentle hand landed on his right elbow and when he turned to look at it, a face came into view. It took a moment for him to focus well enough to bring any of the features clarity but it could have stayed a bright, blessed blur and he would have known that face anywhere.

He picked up his head and beamed. “Ziraphale, s’good to see you.”

“I’m surprised you can see anything, judging by the state of you. Why don’t we get you home?”

Crowley shook his head. He abruptly stopped when the whole world seemed to shake with it. “Nope. Too drunk. Would probably discorpra- discapor- die if I tried a miracle.”

“Well then, why don’t you sober up?”

Aziraphale’s voice was low, sharp, and even. It was the sort of voice that in any other situation would have had Crowley worried but he’d done too good a job of getting rid of silly things like worries at least half a dozen bottles ago. Maybe more. He’d lost track after the first five or fifteen.

“Told you,” he said, resting his chin in the palm of one hand, “no miracles. B’sides, I don’t wanna.”

Aziraphale stared at him. “You don’t want to?”

“Nope.”

Crowley popped the ‘p’ and then repeated the sound until he fell into a fit of giggles.

“Then allow me—”

Everything was too murky for Crowley to remember why exactly the idea of sobering up sent his heart pounding and his stomach plummeting but he instantly snatched Aziraphale’s wrist to stop it from happening.

“No.”

“If you really feel so strongly about it, I won’t. Can you at least tell me why?”

Crowley opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head. Every time he reached toward the source of that feeling, something fractured and threatened to fall away completely.

He heard another long sigh. An arm wrapped around his back and another under his legs. Suddenly he was being carried. The lift into the air made him dizzy. He buried his face in Aziraphale’s chest. His shirt smelled nice. Like… flowers or something. Something pretty and nice. Like Aziraphale.

“You smell nice.”

“I’m glad,” Aziraphale replied flatly. “Do you have a room?”

“Dunno.”

“You don’t— where have you been staying all this time?”

“Dunno. Has it been a long time?”

Yet another sigh. Crowley felt like he should start taking count.

“It’s been over a week since I expected you back.” They started moving and Crowley had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop feeling dizzy. “Well then, if you don’t have a room and you won’t let me sober you up, what do you say to me bringing us both back home?”

Home. For much of his existence that had been a moving target with Aziraphale as a constant center. It didn’t need to be a physical place, the heart of it would always exist someplace beyond, but at the moment it was. More importantly, it was somewhere away from here. Whether he could articulate why he didn’t want to be here any longer, he knew how happy he was at the thought of leaving, particularly in Aziraphale’s arms.

Crowley hummed appreciatively and pressed in as close as he was able. There would always be a part of him that worried he would forget this form if he shifted back into his serpentine one but he missed the simplicity of it. He could never feel quite so much as a snake and he could instead rest easier, coiled around Aziraphale’s shoulders. Maybe he still would, when he sobered. He knew that Aziraphale would love him no matter his shape. It might not be better but it would be easier and, at the moment, that sounded very tempting.

There was a feeling of compression and then expansion as a miracle sent them both home. Instantly Crowley was inundated by the rich smell of oak from Aziraphale’s heavy wooden desk with a whiff on top of ink and parchment. He remembered the sound of wind rustling through the olive trees and the scratch of a quill as Aziraphale passed the nights writing while Crowley slept. Or tried to, anyhow. Oftentimes he would lay with one eye open and watch Aziraphale work by candlelight.

He thought of those nights as Aziraphale laid him on a bed that was far more comfortable than it had any right to be. Aziraphale took a seat on the edge of the mattress. Apparently neither of them was willing to break the silence that had fallen between them. Instead, Aziraphale quietly ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair. Or tried, as he got caught in hair that had managed to tangle despite being braided.

“When was the last time you brushed your hair?” Aziraphale asked as he drew his hand back to himself. “Or bathed? Or did anything to care for yourself?”

“You said I’ve been gone over a week? Then, uh, yeah. Probably something like that. S’not like we need to bathe or anything. Not like humans do.”

“You do if you’re going to soak yourself in alcohol and drunken humans.”

Crowley groaned and buried his face in a pillow. As it happened, an angel’s metabolism didn’t allow for passing out drunk, or that had been his experience over the last however many days of attempting to reach blissful oblivion. Maybe he could sleep, though. That might be alright.

He forgot why he’d been avoiding sleep until it overcame him. He’d gotten complacent since his marriage to Aziraphale. Even in the worst of times, life with his Principality had been a waking dream and the sleeping world had shaped itself accordingly. But the world wasn’t painted in only soft shades of cream and powdery blue, sometimes it was the harsh, steely grey of cruel human ingenuity or the slick scarlet shine of blood. The blood wouldn’t wash from his hands no matter how ferociously he scrubbed. It gathered under his nails, stained his skin, and blemished the band of gold around his finger.

Then there were the screams. They were never ending. If he pressed his palms tight as he could over his ears, they still rattled through his bones. He suspected he would continue hearing them even if he banished his ears altogether with a miracle. He just wanted them to stop. He screamed for them to stop. He begged and pleaded like he had for little else in his long existence.

Silence returned with two words. “Wake up.”

Crowley’s eyes snapped open. He breathed in gulps through a raw and ragged throat. He looked impulsively at his hands but they were clean. The screams had been his own, the blood imagined, and yet he couldn’t seem to free himself of the sensation of either. He rubbed senselessly at his forearms until a pair of arms encircled him like a vice and forced him to stop.

“It’s alright, dearest. You’re alright.”

“It’s alright? I’m alright?” he repeated, each statement transforming into a question in the mouth of a non-believer.

“Yes. I’m here. You’re safe.”

This time there was no doubt. There never would be, not in Aziraphale. He relaxed into Aziraphale’s arms. “Yes.”

“How about a bath?” A snap and the scent of lavender filled the suddenly humid air. “I’ll take care of it. All you’ll have to do is relax.”

Crowley let out a hollow puff of laughter. “Is that all?”

Aziraphale gripped him by the shoulders and sat him up so that they were face to face. There were tears obscuring his storm grey eyes. “Then you don’t need to do even that. Simply let me take care of you as best I can, alright?”

Crowley nodded when his throat tightened too much to make a reply. He loathed seeing Aziraphale cry.

Aziraphale helped him to his feet and out of his clothes. Each article of clothing was removed with more care than it deserved, stiff and smelling as it all did of a week’s worth of drinking in whatever establishment would have him. If he thought too closely on that he was liable to consider once more what had driven him to drink in the first place and, for Aziraphale’s sake, he was determined to at least try to relax.

He set his eyes on their bath. It was a lovely thing made of delicate white marble. Carved on the outside were scenes of angels dancing and drinking and generally having a lot more fun than real ones did. Bathing came and went in vogue with humans, but Aziraphale had developed a special fondness for it in Rome and so they’d kept a private bath wherever they settled since. Such, he supposed, was the luxury of not worrying whether the locals had plumbing anymore or not. One quick miracle and they had a full tub with steam that rolled in easy clouds off the surface.

“Come now,” Azirphale said as he took one of Crowley’s hands, “let’s see if this helps you any.”

Crowley let Aziraphale lead him to the bathtub and then climbed in without letting go of Aziraphale’s hand until he’d lowered himself most of the way down. Aziraphale carefully undid the braided hair that trailed after Crowley like a train. Once done, he gathered it up into a careful coil and deposited it in the water with Crowley. The water rose to the edge but didn’t spill over. It was just enough for Crowley and not a drop more.

Crowley let out a long, trembling breath as the hot water worked its wonders on him. He wasn’t quite as fond of bathing as Aziraphale but he did very much enjoy the act of being bathed. It was a bit like sleeping, without the danger of nightmares. Instead it was the very best sort of dream, shaped by the one he loved the most. Strong, calloused hands worked at the tense muscles in his shoulders and scented water poured over his head from a glittering copper vessel. The ritual of it was a comfort bordering on the sacred.

Aziraphale rubbed a small dab of scented oil on Crowley’s temples. “I got Leonardo’s sketch,” he said.

“I should hope so,” Crowley replied, “or I would have to worry my miracles are starting to go awry.”

Aziraphale nudged Crowley into a seated position so that he could better comb out water loosened tangles. “It was quite lovely. I do hope that you told him that and that you thanked him for his patience. I could tell you were as restless as ever at your sitting.”

“Er—” Had he thanked Leonardo? He couldn’t remember. “Oh! He asked me to come back for a proper portrait. Said I’d make a good angel.”

Aziraphale laughed softly. “At least someone thinks so.” The comb hit a snag and was replaced for a moment by careful fingers. “I don’t know how you managed this.”

“Dunno.”

“You do have a talent for finding trouble.”

When one segment was finished, Aziraphale moved to the next and the next in meticulous fashion. Crowley’s eyes fell closed as he sank into the comfortable rhythm of it. He felt like a bit of flotsam tossing gently in the waves without a care in the world.

“I suppose this hair is what put Leonardo in mind of angels,” Aziraphale continued. “I don’t think you’ve had it this long since Eden.”

Crowley opened his eyes again as he pulled himself from his quiet reverie. “I mean, I was a snake for quite a while after that, so hair was sort of off the metaphorical table.”

“Indeed. But… it’s nice. I like it quite a bit when it’s this long. Of course you know how I love it no matter the length—” Crowley ignored the burn in his cheeks and Aziraphale continued to comb. “—but it’s nice to remember simpler times.”

“For the, what, handful of minutes we had them?”

“Even so.”

Simpler times. Crowley hardly remembered them. Yes, he’d forever recall his first sight of the delightfully soft Principality, high on the eastern wall of Eden, when he’d been nothing more than an out of place Seraph with perhaps a few too many questions on his lips. But any memory of that time was overshadowed by what came after. And then what came after that. And after that. And on and on and on despite all the good mixed in.

Crowley pulled his knees up and hugged them close. “Hey, so, uh, with my rude awakening earlier, I think I’ve sobered up enough to, er…” He ran his tongue over his teeth and pressed extra hard on his left incisor, which had always run a bit sharper. He didn’t want to talk about it but it was a dark and hungry secret that he worried would devour him from the inside out if he didn’t. “I remember everything, if you wanna hear about it.”

Aziraphale stilled for a moment and then continued combing Crowley’s hair. “Only if you want. You can take whatever time you need.”

“No, I should— I want to now. Maybe then I can start to forget without an ocean of alcohol to help me along.”

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut but when he did, he could see that faces of humans contorted beyond recognition by unfathomable pain. It was no wonder Hell was impressed. The humans were up here serving up the sort of punishments even demons might not have dreamed of. He looked instead at his hands beneath the surface of the water and reminded himself that they were not stained in blood. He tried to remind himself also that they were clean of any guilt in this, but he was less successful on that count.

“So,” he continued when Aziraphale didn’t make any response, “ran into Hastur on the way home.”

“What did that wretched demon do this time? If he’s the one that caused all this, I’ll… I’ll… well, let me think on it but it will be suitably ghastly, I assure you.”

“No, it’s not— he didn’t do anything. Well, guess he did but not like that. Not that I’m against the idea of you laying down some holy wrath on him, if you’re so inclined. But I’m—” Water splashed as he gestured broadly at himself. “Because, well, how much have you heard about the Spanish Inquisition?” He only waited half a heartbeat before charging on. “Hell thinks I cooked it up, since it’s all being done in Her name and with the whole, you know, inquisitive nature of it. Aziraphale, it’s awful.” He emptied his lungs into that word and still it didn’t seem to be enough. “Monstrous. Wretched. Abominable. Really, really… bad. I’d say hellish but apparently they hadn’t even thought up half the things these humans have. Got the impression they’re taking notes.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s voice sounded so small behind him. “Oh, Crowley. Why did you go look?”

“Had to, didn’t I? If everyone thinks I did it, I should at least know what I’m getting my name on.”

Aziraphale’s hands fell away from Crowley’s hair as he rushed around to the side of the bath. “But you didn’t have anything to do with it! You know you didn’t, my dear, so why torment yourself over what a pitiable bunch of damned creatures think?”

“Well, it’s not like they’re completely out of bounds thinking I’d gone and corrupted the humans again, are they?”

“It’s not— Crowley, how many times are we going to have to have this argument? You can’t take all of humanity’s sins on your shoulders.”

“I can try.”

“You certainly can and I know that you do, but I wish you wouldn’t. The humans will do whatever they will do, for good or ill. You know that. Not even the Almighty can stop that.”

“Why the blazes not?”

Aziraphale froze except for a sudden fluttering of his lashes. “What?”

“Why can’t She put a stop to this? They’re committing atrocities in Her name. She’s fucking well put a foot down in the past, drowning a whole load of people and—”

“Stop!” The walls of the villa shook at the command and for a moment Aziraphale seemed much larger. He shrank back down as he grabbed either side of Crowley’s face. “Stop, please. Not another word like that.”

Aziraphale crushed their lips together in a fierce kiss. He kept kissing until Crowley no longer had the mind or breath to argue further.

“Please,” Aziraphale said once more. “Not this. If there’s one thing in the entirety of existence you don’t question, let it be this. For me.”

Crowley could feel the drip of tears onto bath wet skin as their foreheads pressed together. He wanted for all the world to agree to that. Even being able to lie about it felt like it would be a weight off his shoulders. His life— their lives— would be so much easier if he could. If he could just trust in whatever damned plan there was, he might not have spent the last week drunk out of his mind.

He pulled back enough to look Aziraphale in the eyes and frowned at what he saw. “I made you cry again.” He bent forward and kissed the tear tracks off round, ruddy cheeks. “I’m sorry, angel. I won’t say anything like that again. Not to you.”

Aziraphale’s brows lowered over watery eyes. “Not to anyone.”

“Right. Not to anyone.” Crowley sank into the bath and deeper into himself with a hunch of his shoulders. “I promise I’ll try not to even think on it, not ever again. I just want to be with you and to be happy with that.”

Aziraphale laced their left hands together so that their rings pressed together. “You have me and you always will.”

#good omens #good omens au #go au: tmgt #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #angel!crowley #my writing #fic

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always-anxious612 · 4 years ago

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Magic in the Air: Chapter 5

Description: Patton offers to help. That’s all he’s really ever wanted to do. Help his friends. But will that eventually lead to a mess that he wasn’t prepared for?

Pairings: roceit, analogical, intruality, platonic DRLAMP

Warnings: food mention, blood mention, slightly gorey image mention (please let me know if I missed anything or if you want something tagged)

Word Count: 1,746

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

“Watch out!”

The yell came from the living room and at the sound, Patton instinctively ducked (quack), biting his lip as a book slammed into the kitchen wall behind him. He had been doing a lot of that recently…ducking that is. With Roman, Virgil, and Dee all working on their magic over the past few weeks, the household had become a bit of a chaotic mess.

“Sorry, Padre.” Roman apologized coming into the kitchen to grab the book. “You ok?”

“Perfectly dandy, Ro.” Patton grinned, standing up and patting Roman on the back. Roman returned the smile and hurried back to the living room when Logan called his name.

“Hello, Patton.” A smooth voice greeted from the front doorway. Dee made his way into the kitchen to stand next to Patton and sighed gazing int the living room. “How is our favorite prince doing today?”

After Roman had gained a little more confidence, he had started having his lessons separate from Dee once again in order to make the best of all of their schedules. Needless to say, their schedules had become a bit hectic ever since everybody started gaining magic all of a sudden. Even Remus and Patton were swamped with trying to help Logan in his experiments, keep up with their own class schedules and being there for the three struggling with controlling their magic.

“I think he’s doing great. Only one book flew in here today, so that’s a bonus!” Patton cheered, smiling at Dee.

“Oh?” Dee purred letting a soft grin inch its way onto his face. “How marvelous.” Patton nodded in agreement, looking toward the living room where Roman had six things hovering in the air.

“That’s the most he’s gotten to, right?” Patton asked as Roman started moving the things in a circle in the air. It looked like he was juggling without actually touching anything. He’d been working really hard to get that part right. Since he had had his magic a bit longer than the others and now knew a bit more about his limits thanks to…what had happened, he had really mastered just floating the objects and had moved on to rotating them, moving them, and adding more objects. It was amazing to see him improving rather fast, even if he sometimes still lost control of an object or two. After he had set the objects down, he glanced into the kitchen and spotted Dee. With a quick word to Logan, he ran over and jumped at his boyfriend. Dee let out a little oomph as he caught Roman and supported his weight while the actor wrapped his legs around Dee’s waist.

“Did you see, Dee?” He gasped, like an excited child. “I got six objects up this time.”

“I saw, my prince. You did amazing!” Dee encouraged, pecking Roman on the nose.

“I’d say you’re actually improving quite quickly Roman.” Logan chimed in from where he’d come to stand at the doorway of the kitchen. Roman smiled gratefully at him as he finally released Dee.

“Thanks, Lo.”

“I’m only speaking the truth.” Logan replied, smirking softly as Roman blushed at the compliment. As Logan opened his mouth to continue, a heavy thumping on the staircase drew all of their attention.

“Logan, we’re gonna be late for class! You said you’d come get me ten minutes before we had to leave.” Virgil panicked as he rushed suddenly downstairs and headed toward the door. Surprised, Logan checked his watch and cursed under his breath.

“Great job today Roman. Don’t forget that you and Dee have tomorrow off because I have to help Virgil make one of the backgrounds for the play.” Logan reminded as he grabbed his bag and quickly followed Virgil to the door. Patton smiled after them, giggling at how obvious it was that they were dating. They hadn’t outright said it yet, but it wasn’t hard to tell. He knew that Dee knew as well from the knowing looks he kept giving the two. It was great that they got to work in at least one of the same classes together. With Logan being in Theater Design and Technology and Virgil being in Stagecraft, they often worked together on projects for the school’s major productions too. In fact, all of the others were also pursuing careers in theatre: Dee in costume designing, Remus in stage makeup, and Roman in acting. However, Patton himself was majoring in Dance. Sometimes he was a bit sad that he was the only one that never got to help in the production of the plays, but he at least got to help Roman when he was auditioning for a musical and needed help with the dances. Plus, Remus often helped him practice his partnered dances since he had always been interested in the subject. Speaking of Remus…

“Has anyone seen Remus? I have something he needs for his makeup class.” Patton remembered.

“I think he was in his room last I saw him.” Roman answered as he began to get the ingredients to make himself a sandwich.

“Would you like a sandwich Pat?” he offered, looking up.

“Aw, thanks kiddo! That’d be great! Could you make one for Remus too? I don’t think he’s come out of his room all day, so he probably hasn’t eaten.”

“Sure, but I am not adding sardines to his ham sandwich this time. He wants those he can get them himself.”

Patton giggled softly before heading upstairs to get the makeup brushes he had for Remus. He had borrowed them to do his makeup for a costumed dance routine he had to do for class last week and kept forgetting to give them back, but Remus could only last so long making up excuses for why he didn’t have his makeup brushes in a makeup class. He was getting ready to knock on Remus’s door when he heard angry muttering from the other side. Slightly worried, he hesitantly knocked on the door anyway.

“Remus? Kiddo? Roman made some sandwiches for lunch if you want to come and eat” he called. The muttering fell silent but there was no answer.

“Um, Are you ok?” Patton asked hesitantly.

“’M fine.” Remus responded, sounding unconvincing. His answer was much quieter than usual and there was a slight waver to his voice.

“I’m coming in, ok?”

When there was no answer, Patton took that as an ok and cautiously opened the door.

Remus was slumped over at his desk, his head resting on a piece of artwork of a girl with half of her face completely covered in tiny cracks that branched out and bled into the rest of her face and down into her neck…like a china doll that had been dropped and shattered, just on the verge of breaking completely. It was haunting but still beautiful, and though it wasn’t Patton’s type of art, he could still admire the talent and work that went into it.

“That’s beautiful, Remus.” He complimented, still gazing at how intricate the cracks were drawn. Remus snapped his head up and stared at Patton then looked back to his drawing.

“You think?” he asked, chewing his lip as he studied the picture.

“Yeah, of course! The cracks in the face are so intricate and you did her hair so nicely and the way the fractures kinda start to bleed into the rest of her face but fade off. It’s really great. You did amazing.”

“It was gonna be my project for my makeup class. I was gonna add some blood seeping from the cracks and not paint her face so it’d look like an actual fractured human face instead of just a cracked doll and everything! I mean, a cracked china doll is so overdone, right? This way, it’ll look much cooler and probably be a lot creepier. And a bit more gory, with the blood and flesh and stuff.” Remus ranted, smiling at the thought. Patton tried not to grimace at the concept. It really was very cool…just not his type of thing.

“What changed? Did you find a better project to do?” Patton asked noticing that Remus’s smile faded at the question.

“My professor said that it wasn’t possible for someone with my skillset to get it perfected in time and recommended I pick an easier design.”

“What? But that doesn’t make any sense. You’re not going to learn new skills if you don’t challenge yourself. I mean you are in the class to improve your skillset.”

Remus was silent for a minute before speaking again.

“So…you don’t think I have the skillset either?” he asked quietly.

“Wh—No, Remus. That’s not what I meant. Not at all. I actually think this is right up your alley. I’m sure you’d do amazing. I’m just saying even if that’s what he believes, he should still let you do the project. So what if its challenging? You’re there to learn aren’t you? And if you want to push yourself so you can grow, I think he should encourage that not turn you away from it.” Patton pointed out. Remus smiled, but it still seemed too sad for Patton’s taste.

“What if you did it anyway?” he suggested. Remus’s grin suddenly turned mischievous as he raised an eyebrow.

“Patton are you suggesting that I disobey authority? I never thought I’d see the day.” He gasped dramatically. Patton flushed bright red as he slapped Remus’s shoulder playfully.

“I-I just think that if you do it and perfect it anyway, then you can prove it to him that he was wrong.” Patton defended “But this isn’t worth a lot of your grade or anything right? Because it might be best if you don’t test your professor when you can fail the whole class because of it.”

“No, of course not. It’s just a little project.” Remus replied, waving it off and looking away. Patton raised an eyebrow at his suspicious reaction but shrugged it off as Remus continued.

“I need a subject to practice it on though. None of my classmates like to be my subject anymore.” He pouted.

“Well, I could be your subject if you like.” Patton offered.

“You—You will? But this—I mean, this isn’t usually your thing.”

“It’s not but it still looks really cool, and you always help me with my dance routines. It’s the least I could do.”

“Ok, then. Thanks Patty Cakes!” Remus grinned. Patton nodded, hiding a blush.

“Anytime. Now let’s go get those sandwiches.”

Taglist: @catolicabuena @look-ma-im-on-tv @its-always-the-witching-hour @sure-i-exist @wellhellothere09 @star-crossed-shipper @cemmy

#food mention #blood mention #gorey image #roceit #analogical #intruality #platonic drlamp #ts patton #ts roman #ts logan #ts remus #ts virgil #ts deceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fics #my fics #cait writes #ts magic au #ts human au

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timeforelfnonsense · 4 years ago

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Mistress Wit

Wyll x Criella

Rating: T

Ao3

With Patch 3 out now, I decided to make another bg3 oc to romance Wyll! Dafni will still be the main character so to speak of my bg3 writing with Criella serving as a secondary protag & member of the party in Sunshine and Starlight. She and Wyll will also be getting their own little collection with Dafni & Astarion serving a similar role! However, as my writing is pretty ship centered you wouldn't really need to read one to enjoy the other!

Prologue

Criella brought her hands above her head, fists pounding against the transparent shield that kept her snuggly trapped in the mind flayer pod. If she could just find a weak spot…

Ah-ha!

It was faint but, Criella spotted a hairline fracture in the upper right portion of the glass. Perfect. Her tail dipped into the worn leather bag strapped to her thigh seeking her tinker’s tools. If she could just find her mallet she’d be able to shatter the glass and free herself from her confines. She reached for the top of her head, pulling her goggles over her eyes. With one precise strike, the mallet made contact with the pod’s lid. What had started as a single small fracture now spread across the whole surface in a spiderweb of spits and breaks. Carefully, her fingertips traced the somatic symbol needed to cast a gust cantrip.

“Ventus!” With the command spoken a small tempest broke free of her palms sending shards of glass flying across the clearing.

Her boots hit the ground with a soft thunk, the collateral of her escape crunching beneath her feet. She scanned her surroundings nose wrinkling with repugnance. This was definitely not Waterdeep. She’d crashlanded in some sort of hinterlands located god knows where. She brought her fingertips to her temples rubbing away the tension with little circles. She needed to locate civilization and quickly. It was only a matter of time before the dangerous effects of the tadpole squirming behind her eye would manifest.

She dug around her bag until her hand found its target. A spyglass forged of brass, runes of her creation glowing across the tarnished cylinder. Pushing her googles back up, she pressed the scope to her eye looking out into the forest. Her mind tingled, the Spyglass of Clairvoyance reveling a small settlement nestled in a nearby grove. It was no city of splendor but it was a lead. The only one she had anyway. Perhaps, whoever called the grove home would be able to point her towards the nearest healer if they didn’t have one of their own. Her body ached from the top of her horns to the tip of her tail. Even if they couldn’t see to the parasite they could ease the discomfort of being crammed into a pod had caused.

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Criella sat atop a traveler’s chest, her tail flicking idle from side to side. The groves healer had just set out alongside a mercenary band just recently. Meaning her only choice was to doodled among the druids until their Master Halsin returned. She let out a huff of air, blowing away a stray strand of straight, lilac hair from her eyes. If someone were asked to rattle off a list of locations they might find Criella Wit of Waterdeep, a druid’s grove would certainly not have been among them. She’d never been one for nature’s charms. Given the choice between a bustling market or a quiet glen, Criella would have picked the crowded walkways and noisy rabble of the city to the glen every time. At least she was among kin. All around her other Tieflings mulled about weary faced as they set to packing up what little they had. Criella’s gloved fingertips tapped out an anxious rhythm on the side of the chest. Criella knew better than most that right and wrong could be terms with objective definitions. But turning out helpless refugees and children? That was wrong by every definition. She had sat in Zevlor’s quarters discussing the events that lead his people to take refuge among The Oak Father’s servants. They had come from Eturel originally- Collateral damage in the wake of post-Decent xenophobia. People who had once been treasured friends and neighbors became easy scapegoats for the suffering Elturel’s people experienced in the hells. Her grip on the chest tightened. Were it not for the black leather gloves her pointed fingernails would certainly have left a mark on its suede surface. Well, if the druids weren’t going to help she would. She pulled out a well-weathered note pad and nub of charcoal. She could adapt her design for the Protector canon with relative ease. She’d have to find a way to streamline and simplify it given her the groves appalling lack of anything metal. What she wouldn’t do for steel and iron! Perhaps their smith would have some to spare though she doubted it by the state of his forge. “What are you drawing?” a tiny sing-song voice asked. Criella glanced up from her work. A little tiefling girl of no more than 10, was staring owlishly over the edge of her notebook. Criella’s lips quirked, tuning the book so the girl could get a better look at her scribblings. “It’s a diagram of an Eldritch Canon. I’ve made hundreds of the things but today I’m working on one just for you and your friends. To keep you safe.” She explained, tapping the tip of her finger to the sketch, “It’s sort of a… a mechanical cleric! If anyone gets hurt on the road it might be able to help.” “You can make that?” The child whisperer reverently. “I can make anything.” Criella winked, “Just give time and the right tools.” “Could you teach me?” She asked, her lower lip quivering ever so slightly, “I want to be able to make anything! I want to help! I’m not good at fighting or sneaking like the others maybe I’m good at making things!” Criella let out a chime of warm laughter. The little girl’s eyes were full of wonder and optimism despite all she and her kin had endured recently. She’d too had been more interested in tomes and tinkering as a girl. While her peers were swinging sticks and imagining themselves as knights and guardsmen, little Ella would climb the tallest tree in the yard and name it Blackstaff Tower. “Well I can’t teach you how to make everything in just one day but, I can show you a few things.” Criella brought her hand to her lips, sharp teeth tugging the grove from her left hand. With a heartfelt smile she extended her hand to her would-be apprentice, “They call me Misstress Wit of Waterdeep but since we are friends, you can call me Criella.”

Wyll walked the length of the makeshift training ground. Adjusting postures and offering up every word of tender engorgement he knew. The tiefling children had been ecstatic to meet a ‘real-life hero’, bombarding him with sweet, curious questions the moment he stepped through the gate. After such a warm welcome teaching a few sparing lessons while he waited for Halsin to return, was the least he could do. These children had already witnessed more than many noble old men would in their whole lives. They should have been chasing frogs, enjoying their childhoods without fear. Not training for battles they couldn’t win. Despite the cheerless nature of his thoughts, Wyll put on his warmest, bordering on a fatherly grin. “Not bad! Not bad! Now, remember not to keep yourself so open.” He instructed demonstrating his instruction for a little boy with rusty hair, “Like this.” “Keep it up little one. You’ll be a fine warrior one day!” A lovely voice called. The gentle, golden timbre belonged to a statuesque tiefling woman. Wyll’s heart sputtered a bit when her soft silver eyes fell across his face. A dazzling smile on her rose-petal pink lips. Walking beside her was a child- Nalia, the little girl with a missing horn. He’d invited her to spar but she’d only blushed and ran off. “Wyll! I look at what I made!” Nalia shouted dragging the pretty-pink woman along behind her. When she reached the ring she pulled free a small metal gadget no bigger than her palm. The steal contraption glowed with a soft purple light. It’s slivery surface marked with an inscription: Be Brave, scrawled in infernal. “Aren’t you clever!” He said crouching down to admire her handiwork, “What is it?” “It’s an eldritch canon!” She rolled her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world The woman stifled a giggle, covering her grin with the back of her gloved hand. “Is that safe?” He asked cocking an eyebrow at the smirking beauty. “Yes! think of it as a mechanical cleric, Wyll!” Nalia said winking at her companion, “I’m going to be an artificer just like Mistress Wit!” “That’s right!” Wit nodded, “I think you’ve done enough work for today apprentice. Go on, take the rest of the day off...” As Wit trailed off a strange feeling began to unwind in Wyll's mind. The sights and smells of an unfamiliar harbor city danced across his senses. He could almost feel the sea breeze on his face. He saw a workshop so organized and meticulous it reminded him of his time with The Fist. He felt the uneven surface of cobbles stone under his feet as he tore after a thief, tears stinging at his eyes as the hooded figure mad off with the last project he and a half-drow woman had planned before she left. Lastly the memory of being confined to a pod and dragged to the hells. Wit blinked back at him dazed. Her slender nose wrinkled, her lips turned down in a worried grimace. “We should talk.”

Criella sat across from the Wyll at a shabby picnic table, poking at her gruel with a wooden spoon. The old woman had called it vegetable soup but remind her too much of the oil she used for in some of her machines to be palpable. “Not much for stew eh?” He teased taking a long sip of his bowl, “You haven’t spent much time in the wilds, have you?” “I am I that obvious?” she giggled, “I’m from Waterdeep- I’ve lived there all my life. Not much work out here in the woods for someone in my line of work.” Wyll tilted his head, bringing his chin to rest along the top of his knuckles, “Oh? And what is your line of work Wit?” He hadn’t heard of her? How strange. She was something of an arcane darling back home. If you asked someone where to inspired spellwork or magical mending. If they had any sense they would give you one answer: Wit and Wander. Well- Just Wit since Zoria had left for Neverwinter with her new wife…. “I’m many things; wizard, artificer, genius. Take your pick.” Wyll chuckled raising his tankard in approval of her assuredness, “Impressive.” “And what about you Wyll?” She said playfully, “Let me guess? You are a soldier. Mercenary? No, you are too upstanding to be a sellsword.” “They call me the Blade of the Frontiers.” He stated with a proud nod before continuing “Monster hunter. Hero. Protector of the common folk.” “The Blade of Frontiers? Now that’s a name!” She whistled, “And I thought Misstess Wit was a clever epithet! Now tell me Blade- How did you find yourself aboard the nautiloid?” Before he could respond the sound of a war horn rang out across the grove. Zevlor sprinting past them as shouting about a goblin siege at the front gate. Both adventures sprung to their feet as panic spread among the refugees. “Alright Blade.” Criella purred pulling her storm canon from the holster at her hip, “Let see if you live up to the legend.”

#bg3 oc #Wyll #elf writes #bg3 early access #Criella Wit

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laugesen20pettersson-blog · 6 years ago

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intoxicatingimmediacy · 6 years ago

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You Have to Be Smart to Survive: Daveed Diggs and Rafael Casal on Blindspotting

During a press tour last month, Diggs and Casal spoke with RogerEbert.com about their meticulous approach to sound design, their seamlessly stylized dialogue and why having intelligent characters is a politically charged statement.

RC: The idea was to give every character their version of what was right in their mind. Early on, there are moments with Val where the audience is made to be pitted against her, and we make sure to eventually come around to her perspective, as well as the perspective of Miles’s girlfriend, Ashley. Even for Miles and Collin, it was necessary to have those moments. We liked the idea that it was messy and complex, because that is usually how perspective works.

DD: I am attracted to art that doesn’t present itself as an authority. As an artist presenting a piece of art, you have to be aware of your own blind spots. I think I am attracted to art where woven into the fabric of the thing is this fractured perspective, this idea that there are many ways to look at this thing that you are watching right now.

Your portrayal of the film’s inciting incident—the brawl outside the bar—is twofold: we first see it from a comedic angle, where the clueless white victim is dubbed “Portlandia,” and then from a tragic angle, as we hear the man echo Eric Garner’s cries of “I can’t breathe.”

DD: We do so much work early on to ensure that everyone can feel the world from Collin’s perspective, where we understand a lot of his reasoning for everything and for all of his choices. To present that moment in a way that is comedic allows you to really watch it without judging him initially. Then all of a sudden, you get to see the moment play out from Val’s perspective, in order for the audience to understand much more about her feelings, and also about the nature of this crime. If we’ve done our job right, this shift occurs without the audience realizing it. By the end of the film, you are rooting for a felon convicted of a violent crime, who maybe doesn’t get a lot of second glances in real life. We did a lot of work in the script to try and underscore Collin’s humanity and make sure that his entire self was represented. He is not only the crime that he committed, and even from one perspective, the crime is hilarious if you think about it.

RC: Our intention was to make the entire theater be on his side for most of that fight. Everyone in the room hates the hipster and thinks that Miles is being funny and the fire is entertaining. That flip on the perspective regarding the violence, depending on how we are encouraged to feel about it, matters. It shows how easily you can get swept up in a point of view if it favors your beliefs or is playing to your intuitive nature. We are giving you comedy, and so you are responding to the comedy, same as when you are watching the news. If the newscasters tell you that a person is a villain, you will treat them like a villain. The same trick that is happening in the film is what’s happening on the news every day.

I found the tonal shifts and lyrical dialogue in “Blindspotting” to be so much more seamless and assured than they were in a picture like Spike Lee’s “Chi-Raq.”

DD: We’re doing different things than Spike. “Chi-Raq” was an adaptation of a Classical Greek comedy, so the way he was attempting to use poetry was already forced. It was a forced situation that was meant to draw attention to the fact that the dialogue was poetry and not prose. We are doing the exact opposite. We’re trying to make you forget that you are listening to verse, but still have it function in the same way where it forces you to hear the important things and as a result, you sit forward a little bit in your chair. The writing is different, yes, but the biggest difference is in terms of performance. Carlos also played a big role in helping it feel natural when people are reciting verse but performing it as text. Rafael and I grew up doing that, so we’ve had a lot of practice. In many ways, the film is a reflection of how we grew up interacting with language. That is a big thing in the Bay Area, so we were really just trying to show off what we can do.

I particularly loved when Miles tells Val, “I am as moved by your greeting as you are moved by an elliptical.”

RC: It’s a joke that takes a couple seconds to register, and by the time it does, it’s more of an internal laugh. It’s a headier joke where you are like, “Oh, because an elliptical doesn’t move…” [laughs] But what I love about that line is it gives you a sense of the character’s vocabulary. One thing Daveed and I talked about a lot is how important it was for all of our characters to be really intelligent people. The Bay’s a very well-read place. A lot of the parents are very educated, whether traditionally or nontraditionally, and that savviness, that sophistication also coexists with the norm of city life and street culture. It doesn’t change it, it just gives it this nuance. That is a very heady joke for Miles to make and in any other movie, It would feel so strange for the street dudes to reference an elliptical as a joke in passing. Their intelligence has this broad stroke to it that allows you to watch them process things much faster, which also enables the verse. You know that they’re quick, witty and clever, but you don’t have a good sense of what their knowledge base is. You really just know a little bit about their behavioral flaws and not necessarily the limits of their intellect. For all we know, in every moment we don’t see him on camera, Collin sits around reading all day. There were versions of the script where that was the case. Miles and Ashley watch the news every night, and as younger people, that is not as common.

DD: I think it’s a politically left statement to not have stupid people in our work. We are existing in a world where there is this normalizing of ignorance, which is dangerous and actually untrue. That’s not how people are. I don’t know very many stupid people in my life, certainly not among disenfranchised people because it is hard to live that way. This normalizing of people being uninformed is dangerous because it presents it as okay, whereas that’s contrary to our survival mechanisms. You have to be smart to survive.

How involved were you both in the film’s extraordinarily visceral sound design?

RC: We were deeply involved from the beginning. All of those rhythmic musical refrains and elements to design Collin’s PTSD were originally in the script and decided on before we shot the film.

DD: We set the tempo months before we started shooting with members of my band Clipping. We did some rough passes on sound design elements, and though very little of that stuff got used, we recorded to them. When we performed the scenes, we had clicks in our ear. For the scene toward the end where Collin is in basement, I had that beeping sound in my ear to keep in line with the rhythm.

RC: I had a similar click in my ear during the dream sequence set in the courtroom. We knew super-super early on that both the score and the sound design were going to be essential in tracking Collin’s descent. We knew those PTSD moments were going to ramp up and climax in some of our final scenes, and that everything would have to get threaded back throughout the entire film, so we have alternating start points of when we learn about them, such as car horns or other sounds. We also had to make sure that the sounds were accurate in relation to where the characters were in Oakland, because we knew that people from the area would intuitively know if we had gotten something wrong.

DD: Getting to mix in Dolby Atmos was an extra sort of bonus after we received their grant. We worked with their artists while sitting on Michael Bay’s mixing stage and got to make adjustments like, “Can we throw that train noise back into the right because we know where this house is in relation to the actual train tracks in Oakland?” Coming from music, that was the sort of stuff that we were obsessed with. I am super-proud of the sound design in this film, and next time we do a movie, we’ll do more. We’ll actually start that process way earlier. I think there’s so much more we could’ve done.

RC: Even when we were doing our web series [“Hobbes and Me”], sound design was always our favorite part of the process. That is when everything on the screen comes to life, so when we got to sit in that room, that is where we, as filmmakers in post-production, really got to excel.

DD: That’s the coolest part to me. On my next film, I’m going to have composers onset the whole time.

#blindspotting #rafael casal #daveed diggs

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oasisfound · 4 years ago

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An Afternoon Haze Pg 3 Ch1 The sun was setting and darkness would soon be upon them. And still, he could see the wreckage behind him, too far to turn back, too close to be a decent distance. He closed his eyes, beginning to shake the uncertainty and guilt creeping in... “Come on now, we can't keep our eyes back there, we need to keep going- it was fun! No...don't say that. It still hurts too much” he shuddered and continued onwards. Dragging Ables makeshift sled as he pressed through the ever-deepening blizzard... he had been too afraid to check for a pulse in the last hour...two...three hours?...the sun was moving so swiftly perhaps it was just a few minutes. But his knees ached, now his head hurt...shut up shut up...you couldn't save them “STOP” looking down at his browning petals, he noticed his motion had been slowed so severely to the frost; it had crawled under his jacket and began stabbing through his flesh.He observed the frost..exquisite designs, scorched into his skin...and he started marching on once again. The sun had reached Paradises opening and was casting beams of golden, once hopeful light throughout the snow, Elliot closed his eyes, biting his lip hard...he couldn't block out the memories...he had to relive it, he had to…So... This is how it happened. It was the day we were going to make a point. We were going to speak out against the religious massacre. We were going to bomb the lower storeroom where our parents maintained all the artifacts. It was one bomb one small bomb. Its radius was tiny it wasn't anything it would've barely wiped out the artifacts. We double, triple checked, it even had glitter in it, it was supposed to coat the lower cellar in glitter and ash. But something else transpired.Think…Think…What went on just hours ago… “This one's going to be big. We’ll show them those stupid artifacts are just hurting the people around them” “Elliot I think you’re taking out some pent-up aggression on old collectibles…” “NAH. anyhow it is going to be fabulous. It’ll coat the whole lower cellar in glitter” “oh yeah perfect then they’ll know exactly who did it.” “A bit late I already set it up…” “You- what? Without me.” “I told you my plan, you’ll have no part in it Able, you’ve gotta keep up the perfect child look” “Where’s no perfect child look” “Good good, keep it up, they’ll never suspect us” KNOCK “yEllOW?” From beyond the closet door came the ear wracking ring of Lady Elizabeth’s voice. Elliots Fiance. “I’ve been out on the balcony all day waiting for you! You just left me standing there looking like a complete fool. You made me look stupid. You hurt me AGAIN. You’re the absolute worst possible Fiance I've ever had that’s lived this long and HONESTLY. I can’t wait for you to bite the dust after all you’ve put me through.” “Can we maybe put her in the basement-” “No. go talk to her Elliot. You really need to get it together, you know how her father is, keep this up and you won't make it past the first hour.” “Might be the preferable option…” “well would you rather take the pledge of chastity-” “NOPE!” Elliot kicked the door out, spinning around and taking her hand gently “I’m terribly sorry to have left you there, again, on purpose” “At least I'm trying to make this work, you’re a child.” “A child shouldn't be married off~” “Oh, whatever. Just dance with me and look pretty. You’ll be dead by sunrise” “Oooh, fun, I'm sure I will be.” And we danced and danced...and danced...it, was actually nice...I should’ve been kinder to her...I should've seen it from her side, how horrible it to be treated with such distance before death. We danced for hours and I was bored sick. I made it clear too, I hurt her, and at the time I didn't care...we talked so much about wanting each other dead, but she didn't deserve it… The banquet. “I could probably eat all of this in one bite” “Yeah, and it would be disgusting.” “Aaaooooommmmn” “Oh wow look at that, I was right, you’re a pig” “You’re jusht jealoush “ Able couldn’t stand looking at me, heheh… But what was he looking at...no, who. Taking a moment off himself he realized there was someone else in Ables vision, someone that caught his eye not just once but twice...and not in a good way. ...ah, an Ebonwood. Lady Elizabeth family, a father more likely...Able was watching him like a Hawke, probably covering my dumbass as always…Fast forward...who was in the gala, looking at creepy pictures of my uncle...someone id never really seen before, I didn't pay much attention then, but he feels so familiar...brown hair, dead eyes, pale skin, wheelchair...why do I know that? Ugh...whos next then... mom, dad…? “No no no, can’t do it, nope, they’re fine, they’re ok, they’ll catch up.” He started to shake again “This was supposed to help c-c’mon I get it I was an asshole, b-but I didn't cause this I didn’t I just lived I lived and others might've too so did Able, and all the ones with wings, that's like a lot of them, a lot of them lived, it wasn't me” His legs caved and he hit the snow. “N-no c’mon. C-c’mon they’ll be fine” He started to curl up “S-stop it body s-stop it, we need to keep g-going” He felt his eyes shut, flashes of his mother and father coming to the surface. “S-stop s-stop.” The sun was setting...and the frost creeping under his petals. “I can't make it on my own…” “I'm sorry…” his petals began to shift black, he felt the sludge creeping up his throat and down his eyes “Let go~” his petals flared into the sky, he was pulled up by his back and thrown onto his feet. A wave of black swept over the snow and an eye began to open on his forehead “FUCK. OFF.” Elliot punched the eye, sending himself backward, the eye squinted, and shut. “S-stay down.” he shivered, shutting his eyes, covered in freezing sweat, he squinted, looking into the distance...headlights...about six of them...scavengers. Elliot dragged himself to his feet, quivering as he raised a hand to the sky, a beam of light shooting up from the snow reflecting through the final of his shimmering gold petals, and creating a lance. Untying the cord from his waist he took a defensive stance...and watched...seven headlights...tinted green...a gang without a doubt… He stood his ground, prepared to fight. And as they arrived, circling, blaring their horns, flashing their lights. His ears dropped, he winced but stood tall...no idea where they were, his shaking was evident, becoming more violent as they laughed, his petals changing darker once more, he felt the sludge crawling up his legs. A silhouette made sharper before him, a woman, advancing gradually, reaching a hand out “a Zephline all the way out here? So you must know what transpired” “SH-SHUT IT” he raised his spear, and she pushed it aside with ease, she pressed her hand to his forehead. A wave of green shooting out from him as she pulled forth a necklace of emeralds. Grabbing him by his collar she lifted him up, looking to Able. “get that one too” The dark shot up to him like fractures in ice pitch-black arteries filling his skin, petals falling and skin turning white. The eye opened and two thorn horns jet out from his skull “oh that was a mistake bitch.” They dug their sharpened talons into her chest ripping out a chunk of flesh, she dropped them, tumbling to her knees, he kicked her down turning to the men who already had pulled the emeralds from Able. “heheh...back. The fuck. Off.” He charged, ripping into the first man, while the other stabbed him in the side twice or thrice, sending him down clawing and punching, a third being stepped forth and pressed his hand to his forehead. And the last thing they could Manage was a gargled, defeated laugh. “The afterlife feels funny…” Elliot opened his eyes, sitting in a field of turquoise, on a mountaintop overlooking hills and seas… “there’s no way I made into the elysian fields.” he looked around with a rising grimace “there's no way Able didn't.” he rubbed his head closing his eyes “no...this isn't okay at all, but wherever I am I'm not ready to wake up yet…” he sat down “so...ill wait till I'm ready to wake up…” and there he sat, playing with grass and blossoms, gradually beginning to sense the dull aches drawing him nearer to awareness. “Did you hear that? I think he said something” “He's just breathing Plant boy, dead people don’t breathe so be glad he's at least doing that.” The scavenger muttered, putting on tea in her warn down tiny shack of a house, everything compressed to two rooms and dawning two windows with a skylight. She sat by the old wood stove, watching Elliot with narrowed eyes, bandaged, surrounded by warm embers with blankets stacked up, a few poorly put together tubes attached him to a DIY iv. Bandages wrapped around his chest and arms “the frostbites pretty bad, if he doesn't pull through in the next week I'm pulling the plug.” “no, no-no. I’ll pay you” she raised an eyebrow “with what? You’re a nobody” “you’re a mechanic right?” “scaven-gggg you know what, yeah sure I'm a mechanic.” “we’ll, I could help you out with your shop” “pfff. What shop.” “We could..make one?” “I'm not making a shop to keep your brain-dead brother alive.” “then don't do it for him, do it because you want to! and ...also because I really need your help…” “fine~ but like I said. If it doesn't work in one week, he's out. And so are you” Able let out a relieved sigh, sinking back “This is doable” “PFFT. hah. Sure.” She sat back, pouring tea into a can, and handing it to Able “calm before the storm I guess. Sip up” “no rest for the wicked…” “yeah whatever, so like, do we steam this vegetable or how do you hydrate it” “I could just stick his hand in some water and as long as he gets light he’ll be ok” “Your plants are so...weird. And kind of impressive, if I got cut and just needed some sunshine that’d be-but you plants are usually stuck up so nevermind~” “not all..” “said all.” “point taken, do you have any paper I could use? I have some ideas for your shop” “Already?” “my brother's life is on the line, I’ll be working at this until we get your shop up and flourishing.” “you don’t want to investigate how you got out there?” “what I don’t know can't hurt me, right now is what's important, and right now he’s losing time the less I work” “ok ok desperado.” she scoffed, handing him some paper and a charcoal pencil “thank you…” “uhuh.” she eyed him as he worked, sketching out blueprints and floor plans, signs and locations, he seemed to have a good idea on her inventory “I keep a keen eye out on everything...well...I feel like it's a habit anyways…”

“is mind-reading also one?” Able bellowed out a deep, gentle laugh. “ I try not to do it too much” Her eyes widened “Ok ok not really, we can't read minds, I don’t think so anyway” “let’s hope not. For your sake.” Able moved Elliot's palm into a little dish of water, and opened a window over him, kissing his brow and heading outside to start demonstrating his ideas to the Scavenger, her back and front yard consisted of a junkyard that Able was determined to organize, build and prepare for selling spare parts and presenting his trash to treasures vehicle repair service. Their distant voices brought a tiny smirk to Elliot's lips, sitting in this dull dark pain, listening to his brother work, so long as Able was in earshot, Elliot could count on him...and focus on this long patient recovery...hours of sitting, unable to even open his eyes. It was pure torture. But so long as he had Ables voice to guide him...He knew he could pull through on top.

#Author #Writer #Story #OC #Writing #AIP #Elliot #Able #fairytale

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