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Welcome back, paid account!
I am setting out on the final reading!push of Princess Arjumand Draft 1, Chapter 2 (to be followed by a nap - hopefully longer than the one I just TRIED to take, boo - and then the final writing!push). By the time I am finished, I will (uh, hopefully) have finished in three days, hazardous amounts of Red Bull, a polyphasic sleep schedule, many, many hours of Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 26 in D Major on repeat,and a partridge in a pear tree, what usually takes me a good week of skulking sullenly around the library and procrastinating.
Maybe this is karmic redressment for the wailing and rending of garments / library shenanigans / drifts of paper everywhere that accompanied Ch.1? Whatever, I'm not complaining.
Anyway, my point was: COMMENT SPAM. Quick, before I decide not to push my luck and delete my LJ again until everything is handed in! Pretty pictures! Rants! Drabbles! Retarded youtube clips of babies and cats! GO.
I am setting out on the final reading!push of Princess Arjumand Draft 1, Chapter 2 (to be followed by a nap - hopefully longer than the one I just TRIED to take, boo - and then the final writing!push). By the time I am finished, I will (uh, hopefully) have finished in three days, hazardous amounts of Red Bull, a polyphasic sleep schedule, many, many hours of Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 26 in D Major on repeat,
Maybe this is karmic redressment for the wailing and rending of garments / library shenanigans / drifts of paper everywhere that accompanied Ch.1? Whatever, I'm not complaining.
Anyway, my point was: COMMENT SPAM. Quick, before I decide not to push my luck and delete my LJ again until everything is handed in! Pretty pictures! Rants! Drabbles! Retarded youtube clips of babies and cats! GO.
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Fun fact: I stood outside that Duane Reed and wrote this OOM in my head while Aspen and Gramarye got sodas last night.
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Which... I think I am probably going to go rectify now, actually.
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I would like to do that as well, but if I sleep now I might wake up at like 11pm and have to go back to bed soon and... not. >:/
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He was thoroughly sick of packing, but just because it took him the space of ten minutes on the phone with the mattress company to make sure all his worldly belongings would be safely sent on to the next... world (still damn weird to think about, but 'damn weird' was not exactly unusual for Upstairs) didn't mean it was the case for everyone. Aziraphael had, it seemed, thousands of boxes. It appeared that he had been cheating for a number of years, so the more boxes of books that Raguel removed from the drafty church through that awful acidic drizzle to the cargo container, the more seemed to be inside. Crowley was busy supervising the packing of his car - an ancient land vehicle that he'd stubbornly refused to upgrade when private air travel became affordable. Raguel came out of the cathedral for the umpteenth time with crates stacked higher than his head, stomping a little because he knew he'd be doing this on his own until the damned container was full. Aziraphael was in mourning for the stonework or something and could barely be budged from the sanctuary, and Crowley was busy breathing on his car's paint job and drawing sigils in the mist of his own reflection. It wasn't like Raguel didn't have anything else to do. Honestly, it was enough to make any ange-- CRASH.
He had just walked into the car. Crates spilled everywhere, pages fluttering and starting to sprout the telltale spots of dampness that signified the rain would eat right through. And those crates were heavy, landing on the car... there were dents.
"Shit," he muttered, while Crowley, wide-eyed, rushed over to look for damage. He stared at the marks with an openly horrified expression, and didn't seem to have the words.
"I can fix it," Raguel said plaintively, lifting a hand over the worst of the scratches.
"No," Crowley choked, and something about the look in his eyes made Raguel back away. The demon went about the business of repairs and Raguel focused on cleaning up the books.
He finished loading the container. Crowley didn't speak another word to him. Eventually he muttered something about an appointment he had to keep somewhere in the States - what used to be the western desert - and Crowley didn't even look at him. He wondered suddenly if they'd tell him when they were leaving, if they'd even all wind up on the same transport ship. If Crowley was really this pissed off, he doubted it.
Well. For the greater good, and all. Flash.
He took off before anyone noticed anything amiss. Crowley was left blinking at a full cargo container and his pristine, antique Bentley, just as Aziraphael emerged into the rain.
***
...I swear, in my head this was a comedy. Anyway. Time 2! >:]
these are a few of my favorite things...
http://www.ifilm.com/video/2687900
Enjoy!
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I'd scream, but a) they're here and b) I'm too tired.