From the Insect to the Archangel: Chapter 13
Title: From the Insect to the Archangel, Chapter 13: In Which There Is Dreaming
Characters: Nostalgia Critic, Nostalgia Chick, Spoony, Marzgurl, Linkara, Goggles, Sage, Insano, Ask That Guy, Nella
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Summary: Team TGWTG wakes up as very different people, and are sent on a spiraling path towards...well, for the moment, confusion.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone involved here.
A/N: I...I'm so sorry.
Check-In 3
Critic sighed as he entered his house. He was relieved, for several reasons. One, he was getting a few days in his own house. It was tiring, making sure Insano didn't do anything retarded and evil, then avoiding all the questions about what he and Insano had been talking about.
Secondly, his house was there. He'd been worried about what he was coming home to, having left Chester and Ask That Guy to their own devices for so long. It was a sty, of course, and it smelled like ass, but it was there.
Ask That Guy wandered into the kitchen as Critic was digging through the fridge for something that at least looked edible.
"Oh," he said in surprise. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Just got here," Critic muttered, strangely unconcerned with having Ask That Guy at his back. "Would it have killed you to make a grocery run? Jesus."
"I've been making hookers buy me dinner," Ask That Guy admitted. "I think Chester's been eating his own hair. Are you back to your usual levels of freak yet?"
"Kind of." Critic frowned at a container of tuna salad. "I think it's moving."
"Probably." Ask That Guy wandered out of the kitchen. Critic threw the tuna on the counter, half-surprised when it didn't growl. He returned to his fridge-diving, scratching his head idly, and swore when he felt the skin break. He was still getting used to not wearing the gloves, pressing down too hard to compensate for fabric that was no longer there. Sighing at the reminder of his "condition", he closed the fridge and debated whether or not anything would be living in the pantry.
There was a warmth on his cheek. He touched his fingers to it, and they came away red. "Must have scratched harder than I thought," he muttered, grabbing a paper towel and pressing it to his head.
It soaked through almost immediately, dripping blood onto the floor as he pulled it away. "Fuck!" He grabbed the handtowel off the rack and used it instead, but wetness seeped through his fingers instantly.
He was starting to feel very, very tired. He stumbled against the table, dropping heavily to the floor as footsteps approached.
This shirt is never gonna come clean, he thought numbly, even as the world blacked out over Ask That Guy's grinning face...
----------------------------------------------------
Nella grabbed Chick in a hug as soon as she exited her car.
"I missed you," she said emphatically. "And I was worried. You could have called."
"I was...busy." Chick pulled back and Nella did a double-take. "What?"
"Your eyes," Nella said quietly. "They're green. Like, solid green."
"Shit." Chick's hand flew up to her face. "I must have scared the hell out of that gas station guy."
Nella made a vague hand motion. "Not around here." She grabbed Chick's hands, grinning. "C'mere, I've got something to show you."
"My stuff - "
"Will still be there in a second. Come on." Nella dragged Chick into the house, where every available surface was covered in flowers. In vases, hanging in bunches, pressed in wooden frames...if it could hold a flower, it was.
"Woah," Chick murmured. "Secret admirer?"
"That's the thing," Nella said excitedly. "They just spring up in the yard overnight!"
"Spring?" Chick raised an eyebrow at Nella's exuberance. "Present tense?"
"Every night for the past two weeks," she confirmed. "The yard's completely full every morning."
"And you pick...all of them."
"...they're pretty," Nella said defensively.
Chick rolled her eyes. "Fine, yes, pretty. Put your bottom lip back and come help me get my crap. You're just lucky I don't have allergies."
Nella grinned, following Chick back out to the car, blind to the tulips already pushing their way out of the grass.
--------------------------------------------------
"That is not a word, Spoony," Linkara said sullenly. "Take it off the board."
"It's totally a word!"
"It's from D&D," Marzgurl corrected. "Which doesn't count."
"Whose side are you on?" Spoony accused. Marzgurl smiled at him, fluttering her eyelashes.
"I'm on the side of English."
"Will you all shut up?!" Insano snapped from across the lab. "It's hard enough having to completely redo everything without you morons arguing over freaking Scrabble!"
"You're just made 'cause you lost first," Linkara said dismissively.
"It's not my fault my vocabulary can't be contained on a 15x15 board," Insano grumbled, going back to his computer.
Goggles came down the stairs, looking at once despondent and annoyed, and sat next to Marzgurl, resting her head on her shoulder.
"Hey," Marzgurl said. Goggles sighed in response. "What's the matter?"
"Sage is grumpy," Goggles muttered.
"How can you tell?" She shot Spoony a dirty look.
"His migraines are getting worse," she said quietly. "He won't let me help." Marzgurl tipped her head against Goggles' in a sort of shoulder-hug, and Goggles just pointed at Marzgurl's letter tray.
"Cheating," Linkara cried as Marzgurl set her tiles down with a grin.
"At least it's a word."
--------------------------------------------------
Critic sat up in bed, sweating heavily, and pressed a hand against his mouth. Heat, almost enough to burn, radiated through the glove, and he yanked it away. He hadn't had a problem with his...Linkara called them finger beams and he went with it. He hadn't had a problem since the last time he'd had The Nightmare. Although, he reasoned, bleeding to death while Ask That Guy pointed and laughed was pretty high up there on the Terrifying Shit o'Meter.
He climbed out of bed, heading to the bathroom with the intention of washing some of the sweat off of himself. He was already starting to feel clammy. He splashed his face and wiped at the back of his neck with a washcloth. The water seemed odd somehow, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He chalked it up to him not wearing glasses - his eyes played tricks on him sometimes.
The faucet choked and sputtered, and he watched as the water grew pinker and thicker, until a stream of blood was slowly filling up his sink.
"Fuck," Critic breathed. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck..." His eyes were wide and his breath was coming short and quick, and he pressed his hands over his face in an attempt to clear his head.
He felt wetness, and when he pulled them away they were red.
"No," he whimpered. "No. Fuck. No. Fuck.."
He looked in the mirror, despite his mind screaming at him not to, and saw the blood streaming from his eyes, smeared across his face. He jerked backwards, away from the image, and the bathtub connected with the backs of his knees, making him fall, crack his head on the tile, vision swimming, darkening, so tired, so tired, sleep will make it better, sleep will make it safe, just sleep, just sleep...
Chapter 14
Fair warning, I don't know how updates are gonna go. I've finally remembered where I was going with this, I just need to write it, which will probably happen while I'm in class. 'Cause I pay attention like that.
Characters: Nostalgia Critic, Nostalgia Chick, Spoony, Marzgurl, Linkara, Goggles, Sage, Insano, Ask That Guy, Nella
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Summary: Team TGWTG wakes up as very different people, and are sent on a spiraling path towards...well, for the moment, confusion.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone involved here.
A/N: I...I'm so sorry.
Check-In 3
Critic sighed as he entered his house. He was relieved, for several reasons. One, he was getting a few days in his own house. It was tiring, making sure Insano didn't do anything retarded and evil, then avoiding all the questions about what he and Insano had been talking about.
Secondly, his house was there. He'd been worried about what he was coming home to, having left Chester and Ask That Guy to their own devices for so long. It was a sty, of course, and it smelled like ass, but it was there.
Ask That Guy wandered into the kitchen as Critic was digging through the fridge for something that at least looked edible.
"Oh," he said in surprise. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Just got here," Critic muttered, strangely unconcerned with having Ask That Guy at his back. "Would it have killed you to make a grocery run? Jesus."
"I've been making hookers buy me dinner," Ask That Guy admitted. "I think Chester's been eating his own hair. Are you back to your usual levels of freak yet?"
"Kind of." Critic frowned at a container of tuna salad. "I think it's moving."
"Probably." Ask That Guy wandered out of the kitchen. Critic threw the tuna on the counter, half-surprised when it didn't growl. He returned to his fridge-diving, scratching his head idly, and swore when he felt the skin break. He was still getting used to not wearing the gloves, pressing down too hard to compensate for fabric that was no longer there. Sighing at the reminder of his "condition", he closed the fridge and debated whether or not anything would be living in the pantry.
There was a warmth on his cheek. He touched his fingers to it, and they came away red. "Must have scratched harder than I thought," he muttered, grabbing a paper towel and pressing it to his head.
It soaked through almost immediately, dripping blood onto the floor as he pulled it away. "Fuck!" He grabbed the handtowel off the rack and used it instead, but wetness seeped through his fingers instantly.
He was starting to feel very, very tired. He stumbled against the table, dropping heavily to the floor as footsteps approached.
This shirt is never gonna come clean, he thought numbly, even as the world blacked out over Ask That Guy's grinning face...
----------------------------------------------------
Nella grabbed Chick in a hug as soon as she exited her car.
"I missed you," she said emphatically. "And I was worried. You could have called."
"I was...busy." Chick pulled back and Nella did a double-take. "What?"
"Your eyes," Nella said quietly. "They're green. Like, solid green."
"Shit." Chick's hand flew up to her face. "I must have scared the hell out of that gas station guy."
Nella made a vague hand motion. "Not around here." She grabbed Chick's hands, grinning. "C'mere, I've got something to show you."
"My stuff - "
"Will still be there in a second. Come on." Nella dragged Chick into the house, where every available surface was covered in flowers. In vases, hanging in bunches, pressed in wooden frames...if it could hold a flower, it was.
"Woah," Chick murmured. "Secret admirer?"
"That's the thing," Nella said excitedly. "They just spring up in the yard overnight!"
"Spring?" Chick raised an eyebrow at Nella's exuberance. "Present tense?"
"Every night for the past two weeks," she confirmed. "The yard's completely full every morning."
"And you pick...all of them."
"...they're pretty," Nella said defensively.
Chick rolled her eyes. "Fine, yes, pretty. Put your bottom lip back and come help me get my crap. You're just lucky I don't have allergies."
Nella grinned, following Chick back out to the car, blind to the tulips already pushing their way out of the grass.
--------------------------------------------------
"That is not a word, Spoony," Linkara said sullenly. "Take it off the board."
"It's totally a word!"
"It's from D&D," Marzgurl corrected. "Which doesn't count."
"Whose side are you on?" Spoony accused. Marzgurl smiled at him, fluttering her eyelashes.
"I'm on the side of English."
"Will you all shut up?!" Insano snapped from across the lab. "It's hard enough having to completely redo everything without you morons arguing over freaking Scrabble!"
"You're just made 'cause you lost first," Linkara said dismissively.
"It's not my fault my vocabulary can't be contained on a 15x15 board," Insano grumbled, going back to his computer.
Goggles came down the stairs, looking at once despondent and annoyed, and sat next to Marzgurl, resting her head on her shoulder.
"Hey," Marzgurl said. Goggles sighed in response. "What's the matter?"
"Sage is grumpy," Goggles muttered.
"How can you tell?" She shot Spoony a dirty look.
"His migraines are getting worse," she said quietly. "He won't let me help." Marzgurl tipped her head against Goggles' in a sort of shoulder-hug, and Goggles just pointed at Marzgurl's letter tray.
"Cheating," Linkara cried as Marzgurl set her tiles down with a grin.
"At least it's a word."
--------------------------------------------------
Critic sat up in bed, sweating heavily, and pressed a hand against his mouth. Heat, almost enough to burn, radiated through the glove, and he yanked it away. He hadn't had a problem with his...Linkara called them finger beams and he went with it. He hadn't had a problem since the last time he'd had The Nightmare. Although, he reasoned, bleeding to death while Ask That Guy pointed and laughed was pretty high up there on the Terrifying Shit o'Meter.
He climbed out of bed, heading to the bathroom with the intention of washing some of the sweat off of himself. He was already starting to feel clammy. He splashed his face and wiped at the back of his neck with a washcloth. The water seemed odd somehow, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He chalked it up to him not wearing glasses - his eyes played tricks on him sometimes.
The faucet choked and sputtered, and he watched as the water grew pinker and thicker, until a stream of blood was slowly filling up his sink.
"Fuck," Critic breathed. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck..." His eyes were wide and his breath was coming short and quick, and he pressed his hands over his face in an attempt to clear his head.
He felt wetness, and when he pulled them away they were red.
"No," he whimpered. "No. Fuck. No. Fuck.."
He looked in the mirror, despite his mind screaming at him not to, and saw the blood streaming from his eyes, smeared across his face. He jerked backwards, away from the image, and the bathtub connected with the backs of his knees, making him fall, crack his head on the tile, vision swimming, darkening, so tired, so tired, sleep will make it better, sleep will make it safe, just sleep, just sleep...
Chapter 14
Fair warning, I don't know how updates are gonna go. I've finally remembered where I was going with this, I just need to write it, which will probably happen while I'm in class. 'Cause I pay attention like that.