Event - Heavy

[apocalypsehowmods]

↬ Main Navigation

Heavy

➥ Deep

(cw: claustrophobia, existential dread, power loss, victim-blaming, time distortion, supernatural compulsion and hunger)

After the cold snap and plumbing issues comes the calm. For a few days, at least, nothing seems to break. Or break more than normal where the Flophouse is concerned. A heavy snow sweeps through and covers the streets. Not a blizzard, but thick white fluff that forms a blanket overnight. The snowplows aren't prepared and it's simply… quiet. People stay indoors, waiting for the weather to clear a bit. There are light flurries throughout the next few days, topping off the snowfall, and for the most part, the city just shuts down.

Even ADI puts out a notice that employees should stay home. Stay safe, stay cocooned in what warmth you have. Just… stay. Each day the message comes out from a generic work email, help@adi.com:

Shelter in place. No work today. Stay safe. We'll get by without you.

The next day is the same. The snow piles higher overnight, covering windows and freezing doors shut.

Shelter in place. No work today. Stay safe. We're s̴̳͘͠ͅt̶̨͂̍r̵̯̼͊͝ŭ̷͚̳g̶̠͋̓g̴̳̱̔͘l̸̤̻̎i̷̭͑͠ń̵̗͜͝g̷̤͂, but we'll get by.

Day after day. Frost creeps into the corridors of the ADI housing complex and the Flophouse. There is no food or other supplies coming and it feels like the hours are stretching out more and more.

Shelter in place. No work today. S̴̬̓t̸͉̿a̴̫̿ỳ̸͉ ̸̠̉s̸̲͆a̶͙͊f̶̢̏ē̷̤. We can't keep doing this, but we have to.

Attempts to leave the housing areas will be met with walls of snow that appear to be impossibly high. Around the flophouse, especially, it's as though they've been placed into the bottom of an icy hole. The walls stretch up higher than anyone can climb or fly, with only a pinprick of bluish light coming down from the opening above, deeper than anyone can dig through. Not even a magical portal or beam of heat can get through. There's just a wall of snow and/or ice through the portal and more snow beyond the beam. What's more, anyone who has supernatural abilities or is tied to a patron, even those not actively trying to feed that patron, will find themselves feeling increasingly drained, like something is sapping away whatever reserves they have, leaving them hungrier and hungrier, their powers waning by the minute, with a very limited set of options to feed upon.

S̸͉͗ḣ̷̦ȩ̵͒l̷͈̍t̸͎̽e̵̺̓ř̵̠ in place. No work today. S̴̬̓t̸͉̿a̴̫̿ỳ̸͉ ̸̠̉s̸̲͆a̶͙͊f̶̢̏ē̷̤. Why aren't they coming? This is their fault.

S̶͔͆h̸̅ͅȅ̴̮l̵̬̈́t̷̯́e̴̥̐ř̷̙ ̶̳̕ì̷̲n̵͓͌ ̷̮̋p̵̟̈́l̶̢̎a̷̺͠c̷̻̈́ḙ̵̊.̷̦̇ ̴̬̀N̸͕͌o̵͎̊ work today. S̴̬̓t̸͉̿a̴̫̿ỳ̸͉ ̸̠̉s̸̲͆a̶͙͊f̶̢̏ē̷̤. Why aren't ỹ̸̡͐ͅô̷͕̫ù̶̟̣͊ coming? Ḟ̴͓i̷̤͗x̶̨͝ ̴̜͒t̵̯̅h̴͔͛i̸͖̽s̶̱̚!

((ooc: Plain text versions of all messages are located here (LINK). You can also hover your mouse over the distorted text for hover text translations.))

➥ Chasm

(cw: warped perceptions, memory-loss, implied trauma, supernaturally-induced feelings of missing out)

You've missed a step.

After what seems an interminable time, someone is finally able to tunnel through, to get out of the massive snowy prison everyone has been trapped in and-

And the city looks normal. Checking the wall you just came through, it's not actually there. As soon as one person makes it out, the effect collapses for everyone. There's a wintry wonderland of Gloucester beyond, and it seems like things have gone on without everyone. But there is a sense in the air that something has happened, something earth-shattering that everyone missed out on.

People on the streets seem to have a look about them. Haunted? Something happened, but when they're questioned about it, they can't seem to come up with an answer as to what. They just seem… confused, overwhelmed. Yes, something happened. No, they can't tell you what. Weren't you here for it? Didn't you see it? Didn't you feel it? How could you have missed something that big?

That feeling will sit with characters as time passes, dragging down on them. It may even begin to feel like a physical weight for the most affected. You missed it. You could have done something to change things, but you missed it.

➥ Stuck

(cw: flooding; natural disasters; damage to homes, workplaces, and possessions; references to burial, suffocation, crushing, and murder; supernaturally induced anxiety, responsibility fatigue, and feelings of inadequacy; illness.)

The feeling of having missed something only intensifies back at ADI headquarters. It looks as though the storm itself attacked the building; several exterior doors have been broken off their hinges, ice expanded within the metal past its breaking point, and the expansive water damage and muck ground into the carpets, walls, and battered elevators conjure images of an indoor avalanche…or a glacier pushing its way through, slow but biting cold and utterly inexorable.

There's no time to dwell on what's happened, on the days of hunger and isolation nor whatever disaster occurred here. There's too much to do, too much to fix, one crisis after another. There's the obvious problem: the need to repair the building and proof it against the cold wind that still blows in across the foyer, but no matter one's work area there is more to do than can be done. Endless requests and projects flood in from every quarter, all of them urgent, all of them important. As soon as one thing is finished, three more problems emerge: contracts to manage, investigations to be made into reported phenomena, glitching computers to repair, vandals to repel from the gaping wound that is the lobby entrance in the middle of the night–the list goes on, and on, and on.

Rumors circulate, stories about a prisoner in the depths of the building's secret basements who disappeared into the crushing ice and grit that had filled the cells, disagreements about whether it was a rescue or if the unnamed prisoner was suffocated, snuffed out by some indiscriminately vengeful force. No one seems to know the truth; no one even seems to know the name of the prisoner, who they were, what they had done to end up there. No one has the time to look too deeply into it; even head of security Neil Grace, is caught leaping from task to task, never catching up long enough to turn his attention to the matter in any meaningful capacity.

The struggle to keep up, the futile effort to keep one's head above water, never relents. No matter one's priorities at work or at home, something is always wrong, always in need of attention, the knowledge of things undone needling at the edge of consciousness like a toothache in one's soul. The Flophouse is in a disastrous state worse even than ADI headquarters, a wild-eyed Bonnie all but pouncing on residents with an endless list of tasks to fix it, to make the building livable again. At the ADI apartments, exhausted caretaker Benny Holt seems to traipse up and down the halls at all hours of the day and night with his toolbelt, gaunt and exhausted and tapping at doors in reply to requests to fix plumbing, lighting, and water damage that never seem to stay fixed. Local staff and interdimensional residents alike begin to fall ill, bodies and minds burning out under the strain, but giving yourself time to rest and heal means piling more work on those around you.

There is no time. There is no rest. There is only the work you are failing to complete.

➥ Sink

(cw: claustrophobia, suffocation or near-suffocation)

As if that isn’t enough, there’s still investigative work to be done. Once again, it seems as if Coffins Beach is a site of interest, as ADI has been tipped off that there might be something (or things) in the water. Again.

For safety’s sake - and perhaps to make sure that no one collapses out there alone - pairs are sent out to the beach to keep an eye on the water and to see if anything interesting has washed up. Orders are to both watch the water and walk along the beaches and through the dunes nearby.

Watching the water doesn't seem to yield any results, no matter how long it's observed. Nothing washes ashore either. But then there's the dunes. Sooner or later, it seems like climbing them and walking among them is all there is to do. Anyone who has spent any time at Coffins Beach might notice that they seem a bit larger than they have been in months past. Not inconceivably, but noticeably. There are dunes tall enough to scale the sides up to the top, though some are still no more than little mounds.

It doesn't matter which, when you fall into it. Small hill or gentle mound, one minute you’re walking on the surface. The next minute, as you put your foot down, it begins to sink. It can't be sinking, of course, sand dunes on a beach don't have quicksand. They’re nothing but dense piles of sand. You can't fall into a sand dune.

You are falling into a sand dune. There’s a hole in the sand, just wide enough for your body and you have fallen into it. Perhaps you're a little bit lucky and your partner witnessed it. Maybe you aren't and you suddenly just disappear. It's a long fall, though, down a tube of sand that seems hard-packed around the edges. At first. The drop is just far enough that light can be seen from above, but not the top of the hole itself. Call out. You might be heard. And maybe your partner is already trying to get you out.

But the moment you hit the bottom, it seems like the hole becomes unstable. Especially if someone is above and trying to reach down. Even if they're not, though, sand begins to crumble from the edges and sides of the tunnel, falling down on the body trapped at the bottom of it. A slow trickle, not a burial. Not yet. Still, it could be, if rescue doesn't come, if the person left up above can't dig you out. Meanwhile, the sand falls and falls, pressing down on limbs and creeping up your body. It’s cold and struggling only seems to make the sand fall faster.

Surely you’ll be rescued before it covers you completely. Or soon after. Surely.

➥ Mod Notes

• GENERAL - Players are welcome to play NPCs for themselves when they are needed in a thread. If you need more information on general behavior for these types of NPCs, please feel free to ask! In general, the information provided in the prompts should be sufficient and ordinary people will act like… ordinary people! You're welcome to make up any details beyond that for your specific scene. Please remember that character deaths are permanent and plan accordingly!
  
  
• DEEP (16-20 February) - Characters will be trapped in their homes for five days, confined to either the Flophouse or the individual apartment buildings within the ADI complex. It will feel like significantly longer, even for characters with fully accurate internal clocks. Travel outside of these bounds will be impossible, even with the use of supernatural abilities. The network will be fully operational; though, not the regular internet or anything beyond the internal ADI network. Characters will also receive periodic messages from help@adi.com begging for help, even as they order everyone to shelter in place.
  
  Characters who are outside their homes when the snow starts will find they're able to get inside just fine, but will not be able to get out again. Characters may be trapped with people who are not their standard roommates/at their usual housing, if they're unlucky (or lucky).
  
  
• CHASM (21-24 February) - The first character(s) to break through the snow barrier will feel an especially powerful weight fall upon them before there's suddenly just… nothing. The snow walls are gone. Even if another character was in the middle of digging through, the snow is just there one minute, then gone the next. Characters will experience a profound sense that they have missed something. This may dissipate within a day or maintain over several days. Anyone trying to question residents of the city will receive confusion and incredulity, but no answers. There is no indication that anyone seemed to notice the walls of snow. Even some of the natives at ADI will be perplexed. All non-native NPCs and some native NPCs will have experienced the same thing as the PC characters.
  
  
• STUCK (21-28 February) - The need to be doing more than they can will be ever-present for all NPCs and player characters. Those who would choose to eschew responsibilities at work or try to reprioritize will find that there is always something in need of doing that is important to them, to the point where new problems may seem to arise in impossibly, almost cartoonishly quick succession. Tasks and problems can be mundane matters related to work, building repair, and living spaces; as well as minor supernatural occurrences similar to past Dogtown TDM prompts (players are welcome to make up small supernatural encounters; anything that would affect other characters beyond a single thread should be submitted as a player plot). Characters may find themselves feeling mentally foggy and struggling to focus on core issues in the face of this inundation of needs from the people and environment around them, and may fall sick from overwork. These effects will overlap with both the Chasm and Sink prompts.
  
  
• SINK (24-28 February) - Characters who find themselves falling into one of the dunes will end up in what appears to be a vertical tunnel that is definitely too high to climb back out of, regardless of how tall the dune actually seemed to be when they were on top of it. The temperature of the sand is very cold and in addition to possible suffocation, characters may find themselves slowly freezing. Struggling or rescue attempts will quickly make the walls of the tunnel unstable. Additionally, the tunnel may not be exactly straight, depositing characters slightly or more than slightly off of their original falling point.
  
  

↬ Main Navigation

Comments

[demonicmiracle]

On the plus side, Crowley's threshold for awkward is very high, both on account of being as fucking old as he is, and because he's sort of weird and that inevitably comes with a certain amount of awkwardness.

"S'fine, I've had a lot worse than a bear hug." He knows it runs a lot deeper than that; she's not really apologizing for the hug, it's for the rest of it, probably a little bit for the way her expression fell the moment she decided to believe him.

He tucks his hands into his pockets, tipping his head in the same direction she indicated before starting to walk that way, assuming that Donna will keep up. "Sorry I'm not whoever you were looking for. You called him a doctor?"

There are two purposes here: maybe it'll help a little, if she wants to talk about this friend she's missing, but it'll also sate Crowley's curiosity. He wants to know what sort of person it is, that looks like him but isn't him.

[thedoctorsmate]

Donna heads out onto the beach, and the sand creaks in a way that's just a bit disturbing. Like they're walking across old hinges that need a bit of oil. She tries not to let it get to her as she glances out to the shoreline. They're supposed to be looking for things in the water, supposedly. She does look back at his question, though.

"Yeah, he's, um... I guess it's a sort of PhD thing? He's not human. Dunno his real name, but that's what he goes by. The Doctor. Reckon it's stuck long enough, probably counts for his real name at this point."

[demonicmiracle]

If he's being honest, he's less interested in actually spotting something, and more eager for the opportunity to stretch his legs and get away from all the strange shit going on at ADI headquarters.

Half-assing things is kind of his brand, anyway.

And what Donna says is more interesting than some nonsense happening in the water. He glances at her a little sharply, with obvious interest. "What sort of not human?"

[thedoctorsmate]

That tone earns him a longer side-eye. She's been open about the Doctor up until this point, though, and he's with ADI. There doesn't seem to be much danger in telling him. Not like he'd be doing himself any favors if he tried to out the man if he ever turned up. "Alien sort. Had any run-ins yourself?"

[demonicmiracle]

The tension that had quickly crept in disappears at Donna's answer; it isn't another demon with the same corporation as him. Which was a silly fear, considering how eagerly he was greeted when mistaken for this Doctor. No one gets that excited about seeing a demon.

"We don't really do that kind of thing where I'm from." He doesn't know about Newt's run in with the aliens, but that was Adam's doing, so it probably doesn't count anyway.

There's more he could say, and he hesitates for a second, fussing idly with his sleeve, not sure how much he should reveal. If Donna hangs out with someone who's an alien, though, she probably won't freak out too much. "But I'm not exactly human, either."

[thedoctorsmate]

She stops walking and turns to look at him again, giving him a long, scrutinizing once over. "If you tell me you're a Time Lord, too, and you all regenerate into the same set of bodies, I swear to god. First? That's really creepy! Like out of this world creepy. Second? Why?

"I know he already lopped off his hand and got another one. You're not... hand... brothers, or something, are you?"

[demonicmiracle]

Those were... a series of words that Crowley theoretically understands individually, but that make absolutely no sense when he tries to conceptualize what the Heaven she's talking about. Time Lords and hands and some other nonsense???

"No — I — wh — you — what?" The tripping over his words in confusion is probably, also, familiar. "I mean, I've had this same body a couple times, but not like whatever the deuce you're going on about."

He assumes.

[thedoctorsmate]

It is familiar. Some of the similiarities in mannerisms and accent just make things all the worse, all the more uncanny. "Well, then what exactly are you supposed to be? Some other sort of alien?"

[demonicmiracle]

"Absolutely not." The audacity of the accusation, even if he's now left with the realization that he'll have to explain what he is. It's not... necessarily a problem, except he's wary of labelling himself a demon, when the people here are already dealing with something dangerous.

He doesn't want to end up on the wrong end of a witch hunt. "I'm —" He waves a hand in a vague gesture, as if that explains anything. "I was created by an all powerful being, along with a lot of other things like me, to help Her with the housework. Metaphorically speaking, there's not actually a house."

That's certainly one way to define angels.

[thedoctorsmate]

"What you're like a robot?" Because her mind goes to building as creation. Although... "Wait, hold on, someone just created you to do their chores. But you're... intelligent. That's horrible! Is she keeping you as slaves?"

Even if he is a robot, he's clearly one who has a sense of self. And that turns her thoughts to the Ood, to the way they'd been treated before she and the Doctor had managed to wedge themselves into matters on the Oodsphere.

[demonicmiracle]

That reaction earns about as much confusion as her explanation of the Doctor did, though it quickly shifts to something closer to amusement. Humans are so odd, sometimes.

"First time anyone's called me intelligent." This is a joke, he's played at being clever plenty of times, something that's easier when he can do things like stop time and also has way more knowledge of how the world works than most people.

That said he doesn't know what the definition of a mammal is, so it really depends on the situation. "Anyway, we weren't really supposed to be. Suppose it's sort of like if your roomba decided it had free will. Not that I'm a robot, although that would be terrific, robots don't have stupid bodies that break." Wait, he's getting sidetracked. "Doesn't matter. I quit, there was a whole thing, now I just hang about on Earth 'cause I like the wine and music."

Well! That's not the whole truth at all, but it's not entirely a lie, either.

[thedoctorsmate]

"Well... good for you." Donna nods smartly, at least... sort of satisfied with that explanation as she starts them walking along the dunes again. "So what if you started out as a roomba? Doesn't really matter what you were, just what you are. And if you managed to get out of it? All the better.

"Did you and the other roombas unionize and walk out, or something like that?" If he quit, maybe the person who created him just decided to let them go? That wouldn't be so bad.

[demonicmiracle]

Thank Satan for his stupid long legs, it makes traversing sand slightly easier, even if he's very much not made for this kind of terrain. If he could change his shape, he'd get rid of limbs altogether and slither along, but that's not exactly an option, so he'll just have to keep walking.

Also: Donna is his new favourite person.

"Fucking — thank you." He gestures at her in a way that's meant to indicate like, appreciation for her actually getting it. "Well, I thought we were unionizing. Except it was a bit more like a hostile take over and it was a whole... thing. Never trust the boss's favorite, I'll tell you that for free, 'cause it turns out they're usually just as much of a dickhead."

This might be the weirdest summary of the war between Heaven and Hell that anyone has ever given.

[thedoctorsmate]

Donna blows out a breath. "Dun' have to tell me that twice. My fiance was popular at work. So good at his job, and I was... I was just a temp. No one special at all. He was paying attention to me, though. Gossiping about all sorts of things, talking about how when he ran things, it'd be different. It'd be better. And y'know what?

"Turns he was dosing me with some sort of science particle things my drinks. That's why he started talking to me. Needed a proper human incubator for spider-people food. That's how I met my friend who looks like you, actually. He was looking into all that. Stopped me getting eaten once Lance showed his true colors, so that was nice. But he was planning on unleashing spiders on our world in return for... I dunno. Power? Protection?

"It's balls winding up worse off because you listened to someone you trusted, who you really believed in. Sorry that happened to you." She glances over at him again. "Different idea, but... yeah. Unfair. S'blooming unfair."

[demonicmiracle]

The first part of Donna's story is perfectly normal, and he expects to end with some arsehole using her and screwing her over, which is about par for the course with men, in Crowley's experience.

Then she starts talking about spider-people, and his eyebrows get higher and higher as he tries to wrap his head around it. Sure, he's a demon that's older than time itself, but he's used to that. Aliens are kind of new. Spider-people are kind of new. It's all a bit weird.

The basics are still the same, though, and once he gets over the weirdness, once Donna gets to sorry that happened to you, his face does something complicated, because he's not used to — empathy, when it comes to this. It doesn't really matter that he wasn't telling the entire truth, what she says still hits close enough to make him feel Some Kind Of Way about it.

So he does what any well adjusted person does when faced with unfamiliar emotions, and shrugs. "S'fine, really, it wasn't that big of a deal. Not half as shite as someone trying to turn you into an incubator. Sounds like he'd have had a great time in a place like this." He's not gonna mention that he's tied to the Web. He has enough tact for that.

[thedoctorsmate]

"Huh..." It's not much of a laugh. "Yeah. He, um... died. So. Turns out when you work for someone awful, they might end up doing awful things to you, too. Can't say he deserved what he got, but he got it anyway." She heaves a sigh. "But lookit me making things all heavy. It's been bad enough this week. This month?

"Sort of hoping we don't find anything out here, honestly. Just a nice walk on the beach."

[demonicmiracle]

If Crowley can relate a little too closely to awful things happening to people who work for awful people, he decides that's also best kept to himself. "Sounds like he did deserve it, a bit." Donna can be nice about it, Crowley doesn't have as much empathy, which might be ironic considering he's in a similar position.

Although it's maybe a little different, if this guy was only doing it for power.

He also chooses not to comment on the badness of the week-slash-month. That might invite questions, and he sure as hell doesn't want to talk about any of that.

"Oh, don't say that, you've jinxed us. Some horrible sandworm or what have you is about to eat us." That seems on brand for this place.

[thedoctorsmate]

"More worried about sand flies than worms. Or sand... I dunno. You hear the creaking from it as we're walking right? Dun' like that. It's creepy." She blows out another breath. "But a name like Coffins Beach? God, they need someone sensible on the city council to rename it.

"What'cha think about Hinge Beach, then? Less dire."

[demonicmiracle]

Things that Crowley typically doesn't think about: insects. Minor inconveniences aren't exactly something that registers to a demon. He's going to have to get better about remembering all that nonsense.

"No one voluntarily living around here is sensible, so you're outta luck there." He's known humans to live in some remarkably shitty places, but that's regular sort of shitty, not whatever's going on with this place.

He was, probably, going to say something more, judging by the fact that he opens his mouth to do so, but before anything can come out, there's a shift in the sand underneath his feet, and Crowley is just — gone. He doesn't even have time to yelp, which he'll be grateful for later, since it saves him the embarrassment of having sounded distressed in front of another person.

For the moment, his primary concern is the fact he's sliding down a damn tunnel made of sand. He does have time to cuss about it, even if it might not be audible from above, cursing up a storm as he tries and fails to slow his descent. Hitting the bottom isn't much better than the falling, not when it's freezing — he's so fucking sick of being cold — and the tunnel that was so solid a moment ago begins to crumble.

For all that he wants to shout and panic and try to climb his way back up, he does his best to keep calm and still. The entities work on fear, which means the whole point of this is to terrify him before it kills him, and he refuses to give it the satisfaction.

[thedoctorsmate]

"Maybe we should get out of dodge, road-trip it somewhere else, set up shop back in London." Donna scoffs. "The Doctors more likely to look for me there, anyway, if he gets here. Any chance you've got any experience forging passports? Or maybe I could go to the embassy? Claim I got mugged..."

He's awfully quiet through all these musings. Donna glances over again and-

"Anthony?" She looks around for him, but there's no sign. Except... the sand's been shifting and that looks like a rather gaping hole in the ground that's rapidly crumbling inward. "Anthony!"

What the flip is even happening?! Donna drops to her knees and starts clawing the sand back, trying to get it away from the opening. He's tall. He's so tall. He can't be that far down. "Anthony! Call out to me. Are you there? Oh, god!" He might not be panicking, but she sure is.

[demonicmiracle]

The plan to stay calm would be so much easier if it weren't so cold; he could close his eyes and pretend he'd wriggled into the sun-warned sand to heat his scales, the way he used to millennia ago. But snakes don't shiver, their teeth don't chatter, and they certainly don't have hands to freeze.

But he tries not to lose himself to panic, taking a few measured breaths before glancing back up the way he came, trying to come up with a game plan. Donna's voice cuts through his thoughts, which is — a relief, if he's being honest.

"M'not dead!" That seems the best thing to start with, no point digging in the sand for a dead man. "Don't freak out, you'll make it worse. S'there anyone nearby?"

It'd be nice if she could send someone to get help. He's fairly certain if she leaves, no one will ever find him again.

[thedoctorsmate]

"I'm not freaking out!" She yells as she continues to scrabble at the sand, pulling it away from the top of the hole in giant armfuls to keep it from sliding down on top of him. "And who'd be nearby? They sent us to a bloody deserted beach! We need to get you out of there. Um... Belt! I'll use my belt. You can grab it, and I'll pull you out.

"Your hands are at the top, right? You sort of fell down like... like one of those wiggly men outside the petrol stations?"

Regardless of his answer to that question, she's quickly sitting up so she can fumble with the clasp on her belt and get that off to snake down into the hole.

[demonicmiracle]

If it didn't feel that it'd be unproductive, Crowley would very much like to point out that it seems like Donna is kind of freaking out. He keeps his mouth shut, though, which is also probably for the best, considering all the sand.

"Like a bloody wiggly man, yeah, thank you." He will open his mouth to answer a direct question, even if he's going to be insulted about the comparison while he's at it. She likely didn't it that way, but sometimes the appropriate response to Not Panicking is to redirect his emotions somewhere else.

He can't be too ticked off, though, since she's actually helping instead of just bailing on him. "I reckon I can shimmy up a bit. Gimme a yell when the belt's done." He's going to have to keep his eyes on the sand around him and his feet, as he tries to get something of a foothold in the sand to push himself up, which makes it a little tricky to look up and keep an eye on things.

embrace your wiggly man status, Crowley

[thedoctorsmate]

After a moment of trying to decide how to do this, he threads the belt through the buckle and lowers it down as far as she can go with it wrapped around one hand to keep her grip. "It's down! Put a loop in it. See if you can get that around your wrist all right?"

Focus. She just needs to focus on doing this and not screwing it up and not killing someone because she's skipped way too many arm days. Why couldn't he have got stuck behind a door? She can kick doors.

its not his fault he's a twink 😔

[demonicmiracle]

There may or may not be a significant amount of annoyed grumbling coming from Crowley, but he's still trying to focus on any other emotion rather than fear, and annoyance is just a very easy one to land on.

It isn't going to help him get out any faster, though, so he pushes it aside and reaches for the belt, straining against the shifting sand. On the plus side, he's decently tall, enough that he manages to just brush his fingers against the end of the belt. On the downside, being tall means that he isn't exactly light, and before he can get a good grip, the sand gives way under his boots, dropping him a few inches out of reach.

"Fuck. Nearly had it, don't go anywhere." Not that she would, probably. Hopefully. He has to try again either way, so he huffs out a breath, spends a half second evaluating angles, before all but kicking a leg into the sand near his knees. It's an awkward angle, but it braces his weight enough that he can push up until he does get a hand around the belt, twisting his hand to loop it around his palm. It could be a better grip, but all things considered, he'll take the win. "Got it!"