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#you laugh but this is the divination wizard's primary mechanic
luckyspike · 5 years
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Definitely Not a Wizard - A Good Omens Fanfic (or: Crowley breaks several rules of Aziraphale’s bookshop)
Me at 9pm: I’m just gonna write a quick fanfic just to get some of this energy out.
Spongebob title card: Several hours later.......
Anyway look it’s more fic with Crowley and kids because I’m a predictable sap that likes children interacting with eldritch horrors.
--
In the days following the Nahpocalypse, and indeed, the years, Crowley and Aziraphale settled into a routine. They moved out of the city, and set a primary base of operations up in the countryside. Retirement, Aziraphale had initially thought, was appealing. Oh, he’d keep the bookshop open one or two days a week, he had said to Crowley, as the demon drove the Bentley to the chalky cliffs of South Downs, just initially, until he settled in, but probably after a year or so he’d be ready to let it go.
Crowley had nodded and said nothing. He was no Agnes Nutter, but he had known Aziraphale for 6000 years, and he was fairly certain ‘letting it go’ was not anywhere on the agenda in the future.
He was right. Four months in, when the winter was harsh and the weather was hideous, Aziraphale found Crowley in the greenhouse, lounged back in an overly-ornate garden chair, fingers steepled, glaring at the plants lined up before him. An iced coffee rested on the arm of the chair beside him, condensation running down the outside of the cup in the pleasantly warm humidity of the greenhouse. The plants, trembling, steadied somewhat when the angel came in, brushing his hands absently through their leaves while Crowley rolled his eyes. 
“What is the point,” he said, gesturing to the row of comforted plants, “of menacing them if you’re just going to come through and tell them it’ll all be alright? I’ve been working on that aptenia for weeks! I nearly had it!”
“Ah, well, I’ll bring it comfort in its brief life, I suppose. Say, Crowley,” the angel pulled up a chair beside the demon, who was watching carefully as the aptenia stilled for a moment, and then resumed trembling, perhaps more than before. “May I impose on you?”
Crowley paused. “Depends,” he replied, eventually. “Can’t say I’m really in the mood at the moment, angel.”
Aziraphale waved his hands and laughed a little. “No, no, not that, you incorrigible old snake. No, I’m wondering if you might be available to … well, I’m thinking of opening the bookshop a bit more. You know. Just … obviously not selling anything.”
“You’re bored,” Crowley observed, languid and smug, reclining even more aggressively in his chair and taking a leisurely sip of iced coffee. “You’re bored and you need me to drive you to London so you can open the bookshop more and -”
“Yes, that’s what I just said,” the angel answered, peevish. 
“Are you lonely? Not enjoying my company enough?” There was no offense in it, no meanness. He prodded Aziraphale in the side. “Not as fun to intimidate me, eh? Just don’t give the same thrill of customers.”
Aziraphale glared. “Do you want to drive me to London three days a week or not?”
Crowley sipped his drink again and let his head fall back, feet propped up on a potting table. His eyes closed, although he never stopped smirking. “‘Course. Been waiting for you to ask for the last two months.”
“You don’t have to be so self-satisfied about it,” Aziraphale said with a frown, settling back in his own chair with his arms crossed. “Smug.”
“Don’t I? It’s sort of my scene, angel.”
“Hmph.” Aziraphale didn’t argue. Rather, he looked to the demon, dozing to his left, and then to the rows of plants in the greenhouse. And then he smiled, broad and honest and full of mischief. “You know,” he said, suddenly raising his voice to a near-shout, “he really quite likes all of you!” Crowley’s eyes snapped open. “I see the way he looks at you all sometimes! He’ll never say it, but he does like you, all of you, in his own way!”
“Angel!”
Aziraphale rose, and primly brushed the non-existent lint from the front of his waistcoat and pants. He turned to Crowley and smiled with divine beneficence. “I must protect and comfort. It’s my scene.” He started to walk away, back to the cottage, stroking the plants on the opposite side of the row, this time. They leaned toward his touch. “Would you mind tomorrow, by the way?”
“I might,” Crowley muttered.
“Excellent. I’d like to open the store at nine, if you wouldn’t mind.” The doors closed behind him, and Crowley crossed his legs as he glared after the angel, arms crossed over his chest. 
“If you don’t mind,” he repeated, mocking. “He’s lucky I like him.” He raised his voice, and glared over the greenhouse full of plants. “Unlike you lot!” With a grunt, he hoisted himself to his feet and began stalking through the rows of plants. “Surprise inspection! I’d better not see a single blemish, you miserable heaps of pre-compost!”
Miraculously, he didn’t. Not even a single droopy leaf. Even the aptenia. In the cottage, Aziraphale smiled and turned his page.
It did start as a chauffer arrangement*. Three days each week, Crowley drove Aziraphale into Soho and dropped him off at the bookshop. Sometimes he would come in and spend the day, sometimes he would leave and ramble around London. On occasion he would go on a day trip elsewhere, usually Tadfield. In the spring, he enrolled** in a university physics course. He did homework. It was interesting, and a nice way to spend the time besides, now that he was more-or-less retired.
Well, mostly retired. He did tempt his classmates to procrastination and cheating at times, because old habits die hard, and they were university students anyway so they hardly needed a full temptation. Just a gentle push, really. Also, Aziraphale noted somewhat astutely one night over wine, if everyone procrastinated studying then the average grade for the test would be a bit lower, possibly resulting in a generous curve, which Crowley invariably benefitted from. Crowley, mid-way through an equation, glared at him for the remark, but didn’t dispute it.
“Oh, I need a favor,” Aziraphale said after a minute, and more fevered scratching from Crowley as the worked at the equation more. The demon glanced up.
“Aziraphale, if you’re going to open the shop four days each week, we might as well move back to London.”
“Oh? Oh! No, no that wasn’t what I was thinking of.” 
“Oh.” Crowley propped his chin in his hand and tapped the pencilpoint on the paper. It was a wonder he didn’t have smoke coming out of his ears, Aziraphale reflected, the way he was looking at the paper. 
Well, Aziraphale had said math might be wise to take first, before physics. No one to blame but himself, really.
“I have an appointment tomorrow,” Aziraphale said, continuing when Crowley hummed in distracted acknowledgement. “I’m meeting a woman about a first-run printing of Harry Potter. With the shop only being opened a few days per week, I’d hate to close it down for a few hours in the middle of one of the days for the meeting.”
“Why? Planning on selling something?”
“No, but people do like to browse.” He leaned forward and to the side slightly, so he would poke into Crowley’s field of vision. “Would you mind watching the shop for me for a few hours while I have my meeting?”
“Huh?” Crowley looked up, and then visibly re-wound the last minute of conversation in his mind. “Since when do you buy fantasy?”
“It’s a cultural phenomenon, Crowley.” Aziraphale waved a hand. “And that’s irrelevant, besides. Would you be able to watch the shop? Please?”
Pursed lips as the demon considered the request. More idle pencil-tapping. The point snapped off, and Crowley didn’t seem to notice. “Just … just make sure nobody messes up the books, right?”
“Yes. And don’t sell anything.” Aziraphale’s eyebrows arched as he allowed himself a hopeful smile. “Please?”
Crowley sighed. “Yeah, I can do that. Fine.”
During the commute in to London the next day, Aziraphale distracted himself from the no-less-than-twelve near-discorporations by quizzing Crowley on Bookshop Management Principles. “Are children allowed?”
“Only if accompanied by parents,” Crowley recited, monotone. “And they cannot touch anything earlier than a fourth edition, or the books in the children’s section.”
Aziraphale smiled. “And what if someone wants to buy a book?”
“Encourage-them-to-leave-but-please-don’t-terrify-them,” Crowley replied, mechanically. “How long is this appointment? An hour? It’s not like your shop has just huge amounts of foot traffic, Aziraphale.” He looked to Aziraphale and read the expression on the angel’s face. “Two hours?”
“Probably closer to three. I expect there will be bartering.”
“Hm.” The Bentley rumbled on. “I’ll still manage just fine.”
“I’m sure you will, dear.” Aziraphale patted Crowley’s arm, and there wasn’t a trace of irony in his smile. “I have no doubts.”
Crowley did leave for a few hours after dropping Aziraphale off - likely to hunt down a decent cup of coffee and spread a few wiles around, which would be typical - but he did return ten minutes before Aziraphale planned to leave for his meeting, coffee in hand. Aziraphale smiled, and looked him up and down, hands clasped in front of him as he appraised the demon before he left.
He looked nothing at all like a shopkeeper. But he looked everything in the world like Crowley, which was, in Aziraphale’s opinion, much better. He laid his hands on Crowley’s shoulders for a second, smiled, and then turned to grab his briefcase. “Remember, keep an eye on teenagers, and don’t let anybody fold the pages or bend the spines, and don’t sell anything.” This last was said in unison with Crowley, who tried to look annoyed but mostly just looked amused. 
“I can handle it, angel. I incited original sin, I think I can manage a shop for three hours.”
“That’s … not reassuring.”
Crowley pushed Aziraphale - gently - toward the door, giving him an extra nudge between the shoulderblades at the threshold. “Have fun getting your letter to Hogwarts, see you in a while.”
“It’s a first edition Harry Potter book, not -”
“Goodbye, Aziraphale.” The bell over the door tinkled as the door closed. On the other side of the glass, Aziraphale was glaring at him. Crowley waved and, with a sigh, the angel turned and started off down the sidewalk to his meeting. Crowley watched until he faded out of sight and into the throngs of people on the London sidewalks, and then turned to the shop, empty at the moment, hands in his pockets. “Right.” Aziraphale always kept a chair by the window next to the perpetually-unused register, and Crowley dropped into it, appreciating the sunbeam coming through the window and the warmth it provided. He closed his eyes, and briefly considered Going Snake just to enjoy the sunbeam all the more, before his withered and blackened but surprisingly-resilient sense of duty chimed in with the opinion that Aziraphale definitely would not approve of either napping on the job or watching the store in the form of a ten-foot-long viper. And certainly not both at once. He would probably even be cross.
Crowley opted to play a game on his phone instead. 
It was a full 45 minutes into his shift before a customer entered. She was college-age, dark hair and eyes, vaguely reminiscent of someone he’d known in Mesopotamia. Maybe an ancestor, he considered. Probably not, though. That was a long time ago. She looked around the shop, obviously at a loss as to where to begin, before she caught sight of Crowley in his chair. She straightened a bit more, and he sat up slightly, under the pretense of politeness. “Uh, hi.”
“Hi.”
“Do you … have any Ursula Le Guin?”
Crowley raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “No idea.” There, that ought to put her off browsing around. She cocked her head. “Just watching the shop for the afternoon, sorry. Not really clear on all the inventory.”
“Oh.” She looked to the shop, and her shoulders relaxed a little as she looked across the stacks of books, the shelves with their haphazard organization. “Is it OK if I look around?”
“Yeah.” Crowley pulled his phone back out and propped his feet up on the table with the register on it. “Of course. Let me know if you need help.” The look she gave him indicated she rather doubted there would be anything he could help her with, and she wandered off into the shelves. Crowley settled back in. Suited him fine. He returned to his game, although he kept one ear on the woman, and would glance up from his game on occasion, just to make sure she wasn’t up to anything, like stealing or worse, trying to buy something. 
She had been in the shop for about fifteen minutes when another customer entered. Crowley almost groaned. Unreal.
At least this one seemed more than passingly familiar with the bookshop. She paused at the threshold and nodded to Crowley, trying not to make a show of looking around the store. “Mr. Fell not in today?”
“He’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Crowley answered, counting down the minutes in his brain. “Had a meeting.”
“Are you a … friend of his? Watching the store for him?” She watched Crowley nod in agreement. “Ah. Er, I’ve been coming in on my lunch for the past few days to read a book.” She glanced to the other woman in the shop, and then took a step closer to Crowley, lowering her voice. “Mr. Fell said it was alright, only I couldn’t afford to actually buy the book.”
“Yeah, some are quite valuable.” Crowley became conscious of the tone of his voice, the sprawl of his knees, and wrenched the temptation knob down to a respectable 5 out of 10***. He looked back to his phone. “If he was alright with you reading over lunch I’m not going to stop you. Just don’t, you know, fold anything or anything.”
She stood back a little, visibly disappointed. “Great,” she said, though her voice was a little flat. “I’ll be careful. Thanks.” The book in question was set to a table to the side, which had no labels but was piled high with books rife with bookmarks, and she took it from the pile before walking softly back through the shop to the little sitting area by the wall opposite the register. Crowley forced a smile when she looked to him, before she opened the book and settled in to read.
Eventually, the first customer of his inaugural shift at A. Z. Fell & Co. left, looking disappointed. He smiled and waved at her as she went. The second customer also left, about forty-five minutes after coming in. She paused at the table after she set her book back down, obviously considered saying something to Crowley, and then thought better of it, leaving with a subdued smile and a little wave, which he returned with rather more enthusiasm than necessary.
Two confused customers in as many hours, he thought. Not too bad. With a little more hostility he might even be able to make them disgruntled. Maybe there was something to this bookshop thing. He continued with his game, and considered it further. One hour to go, he thought, and he started tapping his foot to the game’s music out of sheer infernal cheer.
Two-and-a-half hours into his shift, the bell above the door tinkled again. Crowley looked up, and then down. Faintly, an alarm bell sounded in the back of his brain.
An unattended child.
Oh, sure, they’d established that unattended children weren’t allowed, but Crowley was rapidly realizing that Aziraphale had not told him what to do in such a circumstance. The kid was looking at him, though, all wide green eyes and a messy red hair piled into an attempt at a ponytail. “Hi,” she said quietly.
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you lost?”
The girl stepped back, toward the door, and then glanced into the street outside. “No,” she answered. “Um, my … my dad is out there talking to a friend, just there, and he said I could come in and look around.” Crowley thought about that. Well, she was just looking. Right? No harm in curiosity, he thought, without a trace of irony. Besides, she was probably … ten? Eleven? Thirteen? Somewhere in there. Crowley had never been good at guessing human ages, and he hadn’t gotten better with time. The girl looked worried. “That’s alright, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Crowley made a decision, and secretly hoped that Aziraphale would not mind or, even better, would never find out about it at all. “Yeah, s’fine. Just, ah, be careful with the books. They’re all … very old.” He looked to the children’s section. “Oh, except those back there. You can look at those.”
She looked to the indicated section, and then turned back to him, obviously slightly offended. “Those are for kids.”
Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. Which is why I pointed them out.” He paused. “You are a kid, aren’t you?”
Scratch slightly offended, now she was clearly offended. “Yes I’m a kid. But I don’t like to read kid’s books.” She looked around. “What’s the oldest book here?”
Crowley shrugged. “Dunno. Not my shop. I just work here.”
She frowned. After a beat, she turned away, and started to wander the shelves, looking but not touching, studying the dusty spines and the gilded titles. Crowley watched her for a minute, and then settled back into his chair, even going so far as to pull his phone out as if to play his game, but he never started it. As inconspicuously as possible, which was very inconspicuous indeed for a 6000-year-old demon, he watched her. She would pause, now and then, in front of a book. He could see her hand twitch at her side, or clutch at her paisley skirt, but then she would think better of it, and move along the shelves, never touching anything, only looking.
Five minutes in, he asked, “So what kind of books do you read, if not kid’s books?” She looked at him over her shoulder. 
“I like … books about history,” she settled on. “And. Well, and some kids books. If they’re good. If they have like, good magic in them and stuff.”
Ah, magic. Crowley squashed down the urge to nod. That was alright then. He was beginning to wonder if she was truly a human child, and not some kind of supernatural being that looked twelve-years-old but didn’t read kids’ books and had self-control more impressive than some adults. But no, magic was alright. Human kids loved magic. 
“I like Lord of the Rings,” she went on, continuing her perusal of the shelves. “My dad always says he thinks it’s too complicated for me, but I read it anyway.”
“No harm in it,” Crowley agreed. He’d tried to read The Hobbit once, years ago, but he’d gotten bored ten pages in and promptly stuffed it into a shelf at Aziraphale’s shop, never to pick it up again. “Did you read all of them?”
She nodded, and this time when she looked at him, her eyes were a little brighter, a little less wary. “Nearly,” she said, eagerly. “I’m on the last one - The Return of the King. Did you read it?”
“Nah. Just saw the films.” Her face fell. “They were good films, though,” he added, somewhat unconsciously. “Er.”
She serpentined down an aisle, looking the books up and down, her hands alternatively playing with her hair, or picking at her skirt. “I don’t know what to read next,” she said, unprompted, right as Crowley decided she was probably alright, and anyway this level wasn’t going to beat itself.
“Huh?”
“After I finish the book, I mean.” She sighed, the troubled sigh of a pre-teen facing a significant personal crisis. “Mum says I should just re-read them, really savor the parts I liked best the first time around and maybe find even better ones the second go-round. But I want to read something new. I don’t feel like re-reading them right now.”
“Ah.” 
She looked to him. “I was going to ask you for recommendations, since you work in a bookshop, but you haven’t read them.” She shrugged. “My maths teacher might know a good book for next. He gave me The Hobbit in the first place.”
“Maybe.” Crowley stared at his phone for a minute, and then, in a fit of benevolence that made him feel slightly nauseous, he got up, and crossed the shop toward the girl, hands in his pockets, studying the shelves she was in front of as he drew even with her. She watched him, carefully. “You like magic, you said? Good magic?”
“Not like stage stuff,” she clarified quickly, in case he had any designs of pulling a quarter from behind her ear or a length of scarves from his jacket. She did not know how near of a miss she had had in that department. “Like real magic.”
“Right, obviously.” He traced along a shelf of books, which were not organized by any recognizable system at all, and then stopped. He considered the book in front of his hand, apparently - A Brief History of the Sonnet, First Edition - and the girl looked dubious, before he reached between books, and pulled out another one, which had not, prior to that moment, looked like it could have existed. The girl blinked.
“Did you just - ?”
“Stage stuff,” he said, dismissively. “Old trick. Anyway, here. You might like this one.” She looked down to the cover, orange and battered, with a garishly-rendered suitcase on the front. With legs. And teeth. She raised her eyebrows. “It’s got real good, proper magic in it. And it’s funny.” She looked to him, and he shrugged. “I like funny ones.”
“Right.” She turned the book over, slowly, and then looked back to him, suspicious. “It doesn’t have a price tag. Where did you get this from, anyway?”
Crowley beamed. “A magician never tells his secrets, didn’t you know?” She gave him a look that suggested of course she did, and to stop being ridiculous. “Must have been an oversight, missing the tag. I think it was …” he licked his lips, under the guise of thinking, considered the strength of the metal smells coming from her backpack, and said, “Two pounds.”
“I don’t know if I have that.” Nevertheless, she carried the book up to the register, and plopped her bag down on the table to rummage through. “I’ve got ... “ she studied the handful of coins, and then looked to Crowley again, although this time there was an accusatory undertone to her look of amazement. “Exactly two pounds.”
“Lucky coincidence, then.” His watch clicked - three hours - and he glanced to the door. “You buying it or not?”
“Are you a wizard?”
“No.”
“Only you’re wearing all black, so if you are a wizard, you’re an evil wizard.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not a nazgul, are you?”
“I have no idea what that is,” said Crowley, completely honestly. “So I’d imagine not. Listen, you want the book or not? I bet you’ll like it.”
She looked from him - a hint of a glare, which was novel - to the book, and back to him. And then she laid the coins on the table. “Okay. But if I don’t like it, Mum always says I should ask for a refund.”
“You won’t get one here.” He pointed to the ‘Returns welcome,’ sign, and then miracled it to say ‘No refunds, no returns,’ hastily, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
“Wait that sign -”
Crowley didn’t hiss. He didn’t growl or do anything menacing. He’d already broken two rules of Aziraphale’s bookshop, and he’d be blessed if he’d break any more. Instead, he looked to the street, where the girl’s father apparently suddenly realized his daughter had been missing for the last twenty minutes, and looked into the shop, wide-eyed and bewildered, before he caught sight of her through the glass doors and waved.
“Oh, would you look at that! Looks like your dad’s looking for you, well, so sorry to see you go, but hope you enjoy the book -”
“You are a wizard!” the girl said, a broad grin spreading across her face, even as Crowley placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and started pushing her toward the door. “That’s not stage magic, I know it can’t be -”
“Not a wizard!” he interjected with forced cheerfulness. “Don’t tell anyone that! Definitely not a wizard! Goodbye!”
“Dad, this guy’s a wizard!” she said, pointing to Crowley, before he pointedly shut the door behind her. The girl’s father looked to her, and then to Crowley, through the glass of the door, and then smiled a tired smile, offering up a shrug as if to say, Kids, right? Crowley nodded, and then turned on his heel, heading straight back to his chair and his blessed game and the quiet bookshop where there were no children or customers and certainly no wizards.
He’d have to look up nazgul or whatever later.
When the bell tinkled again - again - five minutes later, Crowley did groan in exasperation, a little, but he bit it off before it hopefully became too noticeable. He looked up and Aziraphale, briefcase in hand, met his eyes. He looked, confused, from Crowley, to the change on the table, and back to Crowley.
“What did you do?”
Crowley stammered for a second and then managed, “Nothing.”
“You sold a book,” Aziraphale said, in a low voice. He looked back to the change. “You sold a book for two pounds.”
“I didn’t.”
“You sold a book to a …” he closed his eyes, and Crowley winced. He could feel the angel’s energy stretching out, feeling the space, reading the recent past as easily as Crowley might read a gossip magazine in the coffee shop checkout. Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open. “You sold a book to an unattended child!” He dropped the briefcase, the better to put his hands over his face. “Oh, Crowley.”
The demon sank into the chair a little. “Wasn’t one of yours,” he muttered, defensive.
“You’re going to tell me next the child saw you conjure a book out of nowhere?”
“No,” Crowley said, and it wasn’t a lie. He honestly had no intention of telling Aziraphale anything of the sort. “No, just, ah, said I’d nip around the back and get it. I got it from … somewhere else. Another shop.” He paused a minute, and considered that. “It was stealing. Very demonic.”
Aziraphale was looking at him with weariness, and possibly frustration, but that seemed to be softening to amusement more and more by the minute. “But it definitely wasn’t one of mine, was it?”
“Definitely not,” Crowley confirmed. “So really, I only broke one rule. And I did get two other customers to leave without buying anything, so overall a net win for my first day, don’t you think?” Aziraphale didn’t roll his eyes - not quite - but he did smile. “You get your book?”
Aziraphale sniffed. “It has a coffee stain in the middle of the fourth chapter. It’s going to take time to get it out. No miracles,” he said quickly, when Crowley opened his mouth. The demon’s mouth clicked back shut. “And would you believe the woman didn’t want to come down on the price at all, even with that? I spent the better part of the time negotiating with her over the value of a coffee stain on a book versus the value of the cup of coffee itself.” He sighed. “Honestly.”
Crowley nodded sympathetically. “The absolute gall.” He stood, made a show of stretching, and asked, “Since you’re back and all, I have a little errand of my own I need to run. Mind if I step out?”
Aziraphale frowned, and then nodded. “Of course not. Thank you,” he went on, his face softening into a smile, “for watching the shop, Crowley. Even if you did sell something.” He glanced behind him. “And … and changed the sign. What did you do?” He blinked when Crowley kissed the bridge of his nose, and then watched as the taller of them walked out the door with his typical swagger, without another word. He watched him go, smiling all the while, and then turned back to the change on the table. “You’re ridiculous,” he sighed to himself, in the bookshop, his smile never fading, before he swept the change into a donations tin by the register, and set about his new book.
Two blocks away, Crowley ducked into one of the chain bookshops, glancing furtively around before he did, in case Aziraphale had tailed him. With no puffy, wonderful, probably extremely judgy angel in sight, he slid through the door, and made a beeline for the sci-fi/fantasy section, careful not to make eye contact with anyone on his way through the store. 
His personal collection was down by a book. He needed a replacement. He found it, there on the shelf, with the rest of the series, and picked it out, thumbing through the pages and not smiling when a favorite passage caught his eye. Definitely not smiling. He closed the book - probably time for a re-read, he thought - and turned to the door (certainly not the register - he might be going a little soft in his retirement, but not that soft), but he paused. Just a minute, he thought, and he wove through a few more shelves, pausing in front of a rather impressive display of The Lord of the Rings and all associated paraphernalia. He frowned. And then, under his breath and inaudible to anybody else within earshot, he said, “Oh, why not. Isn’t as if I don’t have time,” before he grabbed The Fellowship of the Ring off the shelf, and slithered out.
-
* No capital ‘A’ required.
** Meaning he showed up and nobody questioned his presence there.
*** He generally rested at a natural 9, but was capable of levels between 12 and 15 when pressed.
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illeity · 7 years
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Winter 2017 Anime Awards!
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(From the ones I actually watched.)
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Best Overall: 3-gatsu no Lion/ March Comes in like a Lion
Into the light.
With consistent quality during the second part despite a shift in focus, perfectly managed tone that never leads to excess sentimentality or overt levity, and a story that ebbs and flows with such grace that it melts metaphor and direct description like an impressionist painting, Chica Umino's March Comes in Like a Lion remains the top spot for two consecutive seasons for the simple reason that it tells a rich story of individuals and making meaning.
In the first part, it introduces shogi professional, sometimes student, and introvert Rei Kiriyama and the facets of his life, particularly his close ties with the Kawamoto siblings. At the beginning of Part 2, Rei hugs the youngest Kawamoto sibling, Momo, and says that he has personal and professional matters to deal. While he sees the Kawamoto family as comfort and healing, he understands that he can't come running to them each time. With a major tournament upcoming he stops visiting them and the narrative shifts to the lives of the Shogi players that he plays against. With their own dreams and regrets, he becomes an observer of their lives as he compares it against his own, not to pass judgement on his failings, but to see the possibilities there is to life and to recognize that in the end, there are no bad guys, just people driven by very different motivations and showing how they cope with the consequences of a lifetime of choices.
With another season later in the year and a two-part live action movie currently showing in Japan, the series deserves all the accolades it gets. And if you're ever in the market for something substantial, with a deep, beating heart, this is your anime.
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Best Drama: Youjo Senki, The Saga of Tanya the Evil
What is a god to an non-believer?
Tanya von Degurechaff is the fiercest, deadliest, and most cunning soldier of the Empire (Not-Germany) as they wage the first World War (Until it becomes muddled when they introduce a Panzerkampfwagen IV.). She's also under thirteen years old and is hated by God, or a god.
Why is that?
The god sees Tanya has such little faith in him and has therefore cursed her: Should she die a death that is not natural, she will be taken off the wheel of reincarnation and sent to hell.
But why a kid? And why so much hatred for an individual?
While these questions are answered to an extent, the most important thing to consider is that these driving forces are what sets up Tanya as she is placed in conflict for most of the war as she struggles to survive. She puts in as many legal means as possible to leave the war, only to have her end up on the front lines anyway, whether by her own fault, or by divine intervention.
As she leaves a trail of bodies, her actions reverberate throughout the war as everyone slowly pushes down into a black hole, no matter who is winning. And as with the nature of war, there are no heroes, only murderers.
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Best Comedy: Kono Subarashii Sekai ni Shukufuku o!
"This anime is like every insane D&D story I have ever heard." -henlp
The second season of Konosuba! continues the adventures of Satou Kazuma as he is pulled from the real world into a fantasy world where RPG game mechanics exist in reality. He's accompanied by a Goddess who drinks too much and wastes her skill points on party tricks, a Wizard who knows only one spell (and collapses after every use), and a Crusader who can tank, but cannot hit any living thing with her sword (not out of principle, she just can't hit at all). Also, that Crusader is a masochist.
"Insane and crazy" is the proper descriptor for the way the series is plotted, as comedic plot points are introduced and escalated versions of those plot points are put to use later on. The characters are made aware that they are in the mess they are in because of the solution that resolved a previous conflict made ample fuel for another. "It gets worse" is another descriptor as they are battered by bad luck and only somehow manage to escape as even their most competent moments are displays of excellence borne out of their utter stupidity. It's a show that's shameless enough to throw everything at a wall to make you laugh, and most of the time, what they throw in, sticks.
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Honorable Mention: Kobayashi-san Chi no Maid Dragon
The Lion falls in love with the Mouse.
Miss Kobayashi is a Systems Engineer who, after a night of drunken revelry, somehow saves the life of a dragon, Tohru. Still drunk, she invites the Dragon back to her apartment, and into her life.
Unlike Konosuba! which fills narrative space with ever increasing, crazy humor, Miss Kobayashi's strength is mixing in the fantastical elements with the mundane, to create the comedy or the heart-warming plots, something that Gabriel DropOut only marginally succeeded in doing.
All throughout are discussions on the comfort between partners and the lives of people from vastly different backgrounds. It's about love and growing into it, even though we've largely been on autopilot. It's about the surprise we get when we realize to what degree people can love us for.
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Best Cute Girl Anime: Demi-chan wa Kataritai, Interview with Monster Girls
Science, Folklore, and Free Hugs
Almost all Cute Girl Anime narratives occur within a casting closed system, that is, primary and secondary characters are all girls and they play off their antics onto each other and whatever conflict they find themselves in. So this is a very special case where the Primary female characters shine in their characterization with the aid of a Primary male character, Takahashi Tetsuo, Biology teacher, Demi-Human Researcher, and member of the pantheon of the "Greatest Teachers in Fiction".
So for the girls, we have Takanashi Hikari, vampire, Machi Kyouko, dullahan, Elsa, Kusakabi Yuki, a snow woman, and Satou Sakie, succubus and Math teacher.
The daily motions of these monster girls is already interesting enough, but a subtle beauty comes from the setting and the way the plot is crafted with a keen eye for science and human foibles.
The world-building is present but hardly emphasized, and shows how the world accommodates the Demi-Humans and their special needs. Vampires get blood packs subsidized by the government, Succubi get visits from Demi-Human agencies to check up on how well they're adjusting to their environment, and the rest are treated not so much because they're demi-humans, but how they are as people. Kusakabe Yuki, for instance, is seen as cold by a few of her peers, but never attribute her nature as a snow woman to be the cause.
The science part is interesting, because several chapters detail efforts by Takahashi trying to explain the physiology of the Demi-Humans, drawing on folklore for insight and the scientific method to explain "how" they function, without asking "why". In Magical Realism, whys have never been the point anyway.
And so we have a Cute Girl anime that stands above and beyond what is generally expected of the genre. By having the willingness to introduce other characters in the mix, we experience something a bit more different in how humor is constructed and how conflict is resolved. True to its efforts to ground itself through science, the warmth comes off even more genuine and realistic.
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Best Sci-Fi/ Fantasy: Little Witch Academia
Better than Harry Potter.
What started off as a crowd-funded film about a young girl aspring to become a great witch, has turned into a full-blown series as it should have from the start. It carries with it all the trademarks of Trigger: Stark and clean character design, slick animation, and a wild ride of a story. Whereas previous works were about killer clothes and literal shared experiences, this one is a straight-forward romp into the realm of fantasy.
Except, while the premise is straight-forward, the execution has all the majesty and scope of an epic tightly-knit inside the trappings of what is essentially a coming-of-age, high school story. Add a pinch of the ever classic industry versus magic trope, excellent characters and well-realized relationships, and you have something that only ever appears plain and overdone.
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Best Girl: Tsukinose Vignette April from Gabriel DropOut
No good or evil, only kawaii.
I have reached the conclusion that in the world of Gabriel DropOut, the one reason neither Heaven nor Hell have made any greater stride against the other is not because of balance, but rather because both are equally inept.
That being said, Tsukinose Vignette April, a demon from Hell, is the worst kind of inept but the also the best kind of character to be best girl: Kind, disciplined, being the one person responsible enough to go over to Gabriel's home to wake her up for school, scared of horror movies, and just... angelic. Compound her difficulty with being the only straight man in a comedy quartet gives her the patience of a saint.
Some people, like Gabriel, could never grasp the responsibility of being a divine being. For Vignette, she was just unlucky enough to not have been born to a role she's a natural in: that of a normal human being.
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Best OP: "Shadow and Truth" by ONE III NOTES from ACCA: 13-Territory Inspection Dept.
"It's never really what it seems."
In the latest of slice-of-life/ food/ mystery anime is ACCA: 13-Territory Inspection Dept, where Otus tries to do his job as inspector in what is ostensibly a Fascist state that is under rumors of a coup.
Of course, the general goal of any good OP is to draw the viewer into the show and communicate what they'll come to expect from it. And for a show with such style and class it's masterful to pick a song that blends hip-hop and jazz as the vocalists rap about the hazy nature of truth as people play games with relationships and politics into each other.
The striking visuals complement the song nicely, with shots of the various characters shifting in and out of blur and limiting visuals to white, black, and one more color for every scene to evoke a unique feel for every single character and teasing the role they'll play in the show.
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Best ED: "Los! Los! Los!" by Aoi Yūki from Youjo Senki, Saga of Tanya the Evil
Bedenke, dass du sterben musst.
An ode to madness and bloodlust, Los! Los! Los! (German for "Come on! Come on! Come on!") is a war speech in song form with very simple visuals: Shots of Tanya's face in various states of anger/ madness, a battlefield, and a few illustrations by the Light Novel's artist, Neichiru. How and when they're shown is where the song melds and gains greater power.
The angry/ mad face and the battlefield are shown and interchange with each other to follow the beat of the song during the chorus, which are commands in German to attack, take cover, or stand in attention.
Neichiru's illustrations take over during the verses, which celebrates war, the joys of taking away life, and surrendering your own life to your country, which the song sees as a great achievement, good enough to reach heaven for by building dead bodies one atop another.
Listening to the full song is recommended , as it expands on the nihilism even further, calling for those who advocate peace as weaklings and calling for ceaseless violence and depravity akin more to Heaven rather than Hell.
For its dark and horrifying thesis (sung with the voice of a young girl), the song would not be out of place in a battlefield setting where you know there is no way out, so you might as well go and fight and relish every drop of blood spilled, whether your own, or your opponents.
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lordkankai67 · 7 years
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Session 1
Hi there everyone! Today I bring you my write up of session one, where the players face a powerful enemy and learn what they are up against. Let’s get started by meeting our heroes.
Earendil- Earendil is a fallen aasimar paladin who lost his way and his oath to the Platinum Dragon after being tortured by a powerful black dragon with unusual features for two years. After breaking free, Earendil vowed revenge against any dragon he could kill, no matter the cost.
Lila- a protector aasimar cleric in service to Bahamut, Lila is devoted to protecting and helping the innocent people of Toril, using powerful divine magic to shield her comrades. Lila does her best to reign in her twin brother Earendil, making sure that his thirst for revenge doesn’t cost them both their lives.
Northius- A drow raider from one of Menzoberranzan’s noble houses, Northius was left behind after a raid to the surface was repelled, leaving him to the mercy of the sun and his former victims. He was spared on the condition he devote his life to the greater good and the ways of Illmater, and was taken in by the monks at the Monastery of the Yellow Rose. Trained in the martial arts and learning how to use his ki to influence the elements around him, he set out to see the world and put his skills to the test.
Sinnafae- a member of the Luminian race, a rare breed of elves with a connection to the moon goddess Selune, Sinnafae is well versed in almost any subject you can name. As a Lore Master wizard, Sinnafae can twist the Weave to her desires, substituting elements and modifying ranges. She will put her powers to the test on this journey, fighting to keep her compatriots safe.
Z3-R0- perhaps the most unusual member of the party, Z3-R0 is a Warforged assembled by a master smith and artificer from Vaasa. Thorn Blackforge, the smith, created Zero (as he came to be called) to fill a void left by the death of his family. Treating the construct as his own son, Zero soon learned the ways of the artificer, blending magic and technology seamlessly to create useful items and powerful weapons. Sadly, Thorn was poisoned by a jealous rival, and used his last word to tell Zero to “find his son.” Zero took this to mean he had a flesh and blood brother, and set off to find him. Armed with his trusty Thunder Cannon and mechanical allosaur Razorjaw, Zero set out to fulfill his primary objective.
The adventure begins with our party on the way to Heliogabalus, capital city of Damara. Traveling in their own wagon, several of them noticed the sounds of a scuffle up ahead, and Northius spotted a few winged figures fleeing into the clouds. Preparing themselves for trouble, the party soon came across the scene of a battle; a broken wagon lay in the center of the road, with several corpses all around. Six men at arms lay slaughtered, along with a elderly dwarf with snowy white hair and sunburned skin. Earendil and Northius were able to determine the victims were slain by claws rather than blades, and Sinnafae identified scorch marks on the ground as places where devils were slain and returned to the Nine Hells. Zero made a peculiar discovery, a silvery metal leg, broken clean through at mid-thigh that resembled his own construction in some ways. A thick trail of blood led to the top of a small hill, and Lila immediately set off to see if she could aid whoever left it, the rest of the group following their friend. At the base of the hill, they found a most unusual sight-a one legged man determinedly dragging himself along the road with a clawed hand. The man appeared to be an old human, who had one side completely replaced with metal. Although Lila wished to help him, sadly he was leaving bits of entrails on the ground behind him and was not long for the world. The man said his name was Dorn, and told the group he and his party were attacked by devils, seeking a Harper agent named Kara, who fled while he and the others fought, soon becoming overwhelmed. Coughing up blood, he asked them to help Kara, and to tell her that he was sorry he could not protect her better. Having delivered his message, Earendil drew Hyrm and gave Dorn the gift of mercy, as the group quickly set out for a nearby village to find this Kara girl and help- after Zero harvested Dorn’s metal parts for further study and use.
Upon reaching the village, the adventurers noticed the lack of normal village sounds. Earendil and Lila reached out with their divine senses, feeling an overwhelming sense of fiendish evil radiating from the village square. Proceeding cautiously, the twins were soon accosted by two white scaled monsters with bestial features, wings, and stinger tails. Sinnafae’s knowledge let her identify the attackers as abishai, devils in service to Tiamat herself. Quickly launching into battle, the group was able to slay the abishai without too much difficulty, rounding the corner to take in the scene before them- slaughtered villagers on the ground, three black abishai, and an enormous white dragon giving instructions. Upon seeing a hated draconic foe, Earendil launched himself at the opponent, the rest of the party scrambling to follow. Laughing at the audacity, the white called himself the Old White Death, and released a wave of magical fear at his enemies, causing Zero and Razorjaw to halt their rush until they could shake off the effects. The battle intensified; Lila, Razorjaw and Sinnafae slew the abishais, while Northius briefly fell to the white’s frosty breath, only to be swiftly revived by Lila. Sinnafae soon realized their opponent was not a typical dragon, and threw a Fireball, manipulating the fabric of the spell and replacing the fire with radiant energy. The attack badly hurt the dragon, and Earendil pressed his advantage, infusing Hyrm with divine energy and lashing out. Their foe stood defiant, and prepared to breathe his deadly cold once more, until the players heard a fierce battle anthem ring out, healing them all for 30 points. A slim dragon with beautiful, iridescent blue scales plunged from the sky onto the white, breathing a cone of crackling gas onto the Old White Death head, finally killing him.
In the aftermath of the fight, the dragon shifted to the form of a beautiful human female and identified herself as the song dragon Karasendrieth, also known as Kara. She thanked the group for assisting her, but grew sad when told that her party had died in battle with the devils. She told the group she had vital information for the temple of Bahamut, and requested they help escort her to the capital. After enticing Earendil with the promise of gold, the party agreed, and returned to their wagon, setting out for Damara after Kara gave her companions a proper burial. Upon reaching the capital, the party was escorted into the temple, and met with Kara and her superior Azhaq, a commander of the Talons of Justice, a paladin-like group formed by good dragons. Azhaq warmly thanked the heroes for their aid, and paid them both for their help and the information they then provided on the battle. He identified the white as Arauthator, a name that pricked Northius’ memory- the dragon had been slain almost a year or more ago by a monk from the Yellow Rose. Azhaq agreed, and told the party the mission Kara had been on was gathering information on the Consorts of Tiamat- five chromatic dragons who are the mates of the Dragonqueen, who had infused their souls with infernal power and returned them to Toril in mortal bodies. Although Tiamat was blocked from the Material Plane by another party of brave adventurers (at the end of the Rise of Tiamat module) it seems like she isn’t giving up that easily, and will make one more attempt to return her godly body to the realm and take over the Material Plane.
Although the Consorts are powerful, Kara revealed she had discovered their weakness- the consorts are vulnerable to holy energy, and do not return to the Hells upon death- once they are killed on the Prime, they’re dead for real. Azhaq said that the Platinum Dragon had foreseen these adventurers and considered them key in thwarting his sister’s evil plans, and Azhaq asked them to help them hunt down the consorts. Lila, a cleric of Bahamut, instantly agreed, and Earendil was eager to take the opportunity to slay more dragons. Northius and Sinnafae were eager to test their powers on a true quest, and Zero agreed if Azhaq would assist him in his primary objective.
After their agreement, Azhaq brought them to a large chamber, where he assumed his true form of a massive silver dragon. He breathed a fresh, cold blast of air over the group, granting each of them unique powers in the name of Bahamut. Lila received the ability to shield herself from the power of a dragon’s breath, while Sinnafae could evoke the power of it, as well as summon draconic allies in battle. Northius could draw elemental power to his fists, while Earendil’s blade dealt double damage against Consorts and abishai, as well as striking harder against dragons. And Zero was presented with a box of parts that he discovered he could assemble into a mechanical dragon companion. Azhaq also offered to tutor any of the group in advanced techniques of draconic magic- the Dragon Touched prestige class. After bestowing the rewards upon the group, Azhaq sent them to quarters and bade them good night- except for Earendil, who insisted on a private audience with the silver. Earendil undid his armor, showing the paladin the horrific acid scars that decorated is body. He demanded answers from the dragon about the one who did this to him, and Azhaq informed him that the black that had earned his hatred was none other than Thauglorimorgorus the Purple, the Terror of Cormyr himself. Thauglorimorgorus was also a Consort of Tiamat, and was working to conquer the forest kingdom for his queen. Azhaq cautioned Earendil against blind and burning revenge, and suggested that Bahamut still had faith in him. Earendil didn’t seem to care that much, leaving the temple to stay at an inn, uncomfortable in the holy place of his forsaken god (unbeknownst to him though, Azhaq had paid for the room.”
And that ends session one! Now our heroes know what they are facing, and are starting to learn more about the true scope of their quest. Luckily they aren’t alone, and have been uniquely gifted to combat their enemies. I can’t wait to play again and see what the future holds!
DM NOTES
If you’ve read the Year of Rogue Dragons Trilogy by Richard Byers, you’ll probably be mad at me for killing off Dorn and Rayn. Sorry bout that… but at least Kara is still alive! Hopefully she’ll have more of a role to come.
Several of my players are using homebrew or Unearthed Arcana options. Sinnafae is a Lumninan elf, found here (https://dnd-5e-homebrew.tumblr.com/post/147697395853/luminian-race-by-geekfirelabs), and Northius is playing a modified version of a Four Elements monk that I’ll post when I find the proper link. Zero is a Warforged Artificer, Lila is a Protector Cleric, Earendil is multi-classing into Hexblade Warlock, and Sinnafae a Lore Master Wizard, all which can be found in the UA material from Wizard of The Coast. I found stats for 5e abishais here (https://rpggeek.com/rpgitemversion/320074/pdf-version-next.) Finally, Kara’s stats came from here (http://imgur.com/a/C4qnH). All credit for these races and classes goes to WoTC and the wonderful hombrewers who made them!
I need to learn to be more mobile with my main opponents. It’s a weakness of mine that led to Arauthator dying quicker than I thought, and I’ll have to get a bit better
I’ll do a more thorough Meet the Players after everyone finalizes their backstory; I’m already thinking of ways to weave everyone in.
I’ll try to put up the Dragon Touched prestige class, the Blessings of Bahamut, and Arauthator’s profile up soon. Until next time, see you!
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