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posted last year, edited last year
An Artfight revenge I did for FlamingRedAnon! Featuring Lex Laytor
More From family_staralternate_emailmercifulbutbrokenSee Morearrow_outward
My Final Words To YouMetal. The taste of coppery metal lingered as Charles had Henry’s arm slung over his shoulders, helping them along as the two hobbled along the broken-down hallways and corridors. Support beams and wall panels were ripped from their places, exposed frames and wires sparking every so often. Ash. The smoke from the other room spat out soot and ash, which clung to the both of them, darkening Henry’s stark white hair, onto Charles’s jacket, which was slung around Henry’s neck, supporting their sprained arm. Crashing into the station’s docking bay wasn't Charles’s intention, but a shot, breaking into one of the engines said otherwise. It was lucky enough that nothing was too broken. Lucky enough that the exploding ships did not catch them as well. Blood Both of their legs were aching as they finally reached the final escape pod hallway… only to find all of the windows empty, leading out to empty space. The void, bespeckled with small spheres of hot gas, creating clusters of stars. The earth shining up to them both, the sea and lands swirling together with blues and greens, swirled beneath white clouds. Charles winced, leading Henry down to the wall, where a window stood, looking over everything. Henry looked up to him, then to the other pods. “ … none left for us?” Henry asked, voice low, gravely. “None.” Charles shook his head, sliding down the wall as well, finding a spot next to them. “We checked all around this ring, anything else would have been taken or destroyed.” Henry tried to lift themselves up, leaning into Charles’s side more. He obliges, wrapping his long arms around them, pulling them close to him. Another hand came to reassuringly brush away their hair, and Henry looked back up at Charles, a weak smile shining through the dim flashing lights. “… Can we stay like this? Please?” Voice low, quiet, almost not heard over the distant alarm and the rumbling of the station. Charles only responded by holding Henry closer, opting to lift them into his lap. “Wouldn't think of anything else, Sunshine.” He reached his hand forward to catch Henry’s free one, and smiled as his head leaned against the plating behind his head. The two stayed like that for a minute or so, before Henry spoke up again, fingers twirling around Charles’s bracelet. “ . . . Ellie’s is going to worry about us… Do you think she would know at first?” “Most likely.” Charles let out a sigh, then a grim chuckle. “Man… she would think we’re doing another dramatic entrance. Always late to the party, coffee for everyone in hand…” Henry laughed. “Coffee with milk, cream, and a pump of caramel, stirred…” The warm, overly sweet beverage… they could almost smell it. Charles’s own black coffee mingling with their own, and Ellie’s, the sugar wafting from it. They tried to laugh again, but ended up coughing. Charles rubbed Henry’s back, comforting. “… Coffee would be nice… if we get down to see her again… You would get a mocha, right?” Charles joked, Henry chucking as another rumble shook the station, their hands gripping at Charles’s shirt. “Y- Yeah… mocha…” The ship rumbled again, and Henry gripped onto Charles’s shirt tighter. They started to shake, trembling in Charles’s arms. His head went down, nuzzling Henry as he leaned back, holding Henry tighter. Charles’s fingers clung to Henry’s own sweater, still soft… They seemed so happy to get it on their birthday…. “I’m… I’m scared… Charles… I…” Henry’s voice was shaking as well. “I don’t want to… don’t want to…” “I know hon… I know…” Charles’s hand went to brush at their face, pushing away the tears that started to appear at the corners of their eyes, ignoring the ones on his own. “I don’t…” A sharp breath as another rattle made both tighten their grips on each other. “I… don’t want to either.” The rumbling was constant now, pieces tumbling down from the walls, away from the mechanics. Flickers of flames were evident at the very end of the hallway, as more supports crashed down. It took another minute before Henry could find the voice to speak again. “Y… you know… back at home… that lill jar we were saving up for?” Henry chuckled at that memory, dumping out an old jar, washing it out before placing it back on the bookshelf. It was so faint by then, Ellie and Charles asking what it was for, and them never telling. “Yeah Hen? You emptied it again last month… what for?” A chuckle. “What, are you going to tell me now?” “In my room… under the mattress…” A cough, the air getting thinner by the minute. “… I got you something. Both of you…” A smile cropped up again, tears now fully flowing. Then, sobs. Full out sobs. Charles held Henry close as he too began to cry now. He didn't know, but the emotions were so heavy… “I wanted to travel the world with you two, I wanted to get a nice home with you-” A heave for air. “A home with a garden… a home with the dog… the dog you always wanted, a cat Ellie wanted…..” Another heave. Charles leaning in on the both of them. “I… I wanted to marry you guys… ” The rumbling of the station ripping itself apart exploded into silence, as Charles gripped onto Henry, who then mimicked them, as the both of them felt the burst of heat of the coming explosion, consuming the toppat station in a magnificent, massive fireball. Fire The heat was immense, the flames licking up everything in its path. Consuming the fabric of suits and dresses still hung up in closets, bedsheets, and pillows charring up in rooms. The chairs in dining rooms, uneaten food still left out in the panic, and in the unoccupied kitchens. Carpets in hallways, curling with the heat generated. The metal plates glowing a fire engine red, radiating more heat. And fire consuming the two still stuck on the station. Silence.trophy A Garden, Bitter and Sweet “ Right? Do you think we have any leftover walnuts out there? “ It was looking to be a fine day, in the fall. Leaves were turning to a nice gold and amber color, falling down into large piles, soon to be dumped into composting bins. A younger man, just nearing 27, was looking back at the small window, catching his husband's eye. Right sat up, brushing off the dirt that had collected itself on his pants. “ Ey dunno. Maybe check ‘he pantry? Should be air-dried by ‘ow “ Right called out, now walking back to the back porch, ready to enter the house. Dirt-caked shoes were tugged off, more dirt shaken away from his pants, and the sliding door was pulled open. Right smiled as Reginald came pacing forward to peck a kiss onto his cheek. Right chuckled in response, reaching to hold his husband's hand in his own. “ What for? ‘Ye makin something new, or… ? “ “ I want to try a new crumble combination. You know how Hen likes them when I mix them together and top the muffins off with- “ A small kick against the wooden fence surrounding the overgrown backyard resounded to the two men with a soft thump, then two small hands collapsed on the top of the wooden frame. Right started towards it, footsteps approaching the two tiny hands, before a small bag was pushed over the edge, falling on top of the strawberry bushes Right planted last week. Right paused, looking at the dark blue bag that… just fell down… blue… “ ‘Enry! What the ‘hell? “ Right stepped over the now very much smothered strawberry bush to grab and sling the bag over his shoulder, and to reach forward to grab his child, who was trying to scale their fence like it was the Eiffel Tower. Henry squirmed a bit, before being dropped back down into the backyard, Right now staring at him. “ What in ‘he world you doing here sprout? You should be in school- “ Right went to reach out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, but had to take a step back, because Henry just crashed into his side. Right returned the hug, turning to look at Reg, who was now at the doorway. One look down at their small child hugging at his husband's legs, and Reginald walked back into the house, pulling a large mason jar out of the fridge, and pouring it into a pot on the stovetop. By the time the apple cider (with a few cinnamon sticks tossed in ) was done heating up, and poured into Henry’s favorite mug, tiny gemstones appearing as the cup was heated up, Right had Henry snuggled up in a blanket on the couch, and was talking with him. Short, small hand movements were pulled out from the small bundled-up piece of fabric, signing to Right. Hands pulled down from his eyes, already prickling with a sign of tears. Sad. Hands go down, two pats close to the ground. “ . . . kids? “ Right questioned, looking at Henry. He looked away, down at the carpet. A hesitant nod. “ What did they do? Did they hurt you? “ Reg now walked over, setting the cider on a side table. “ Was it that Felix boy? “ Henry made a noise, curling more into the blanket, hiding. Right held out his hand, slowly reaching for him. “ Henry. Breath. It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. Do you want some cider? You can hold my hand if yes. “ A few moments passed, then a wine as two tiny hands went to grasp at Right’s outstretched one. A smile with a nod, as Reg carefully passed over the warm drink. “ … careful, it’s still hot. “ Henry didn't seem to mind the heat, immediately going to down at least half the cup in one go, taking a deep breath as the cup was lowered. Eyes blink upwards, finally facing his two dads, who were kneeling in front of the couch. He held out the cup to them, which Reginald carefully took to place back on the small table. It was another few seconds dragging on before Henry’s hands moved again. Closed together, horizontally, then opened up again. Book. “ Oh that’s it- “ Reginald shot up, standing up quickly, startling both Right and Henry, who started to fuss, grabbing for Right. He took Henry quickly up in his arms. Standing up as well. “ Reg- calm down. You’re scaring ‘im “ “ Calm down? I am perfectly calm dear- “ Reginald turned, now a phone in his hands. A smile then aimed at Henry. “ Hen dear, you can watch a movie with Dad- I need to call someone. “ “ Would that someone include Felix’s parents or the principal? “ Right questioned. “ Or is it… “ Reginald chuckled. “ Oh just calling Geoffrey… he should be able to help. If you want I could even call Thom- “ “ Reg, no. “ Right sat down Henry on the couch, passing him the remote. “ We’ve talked about this. No past contacts with Henry’s bullies. You know what that could lead to… “ “ Righty, I know, but this is the fifth time they hurt Hen. They ripped his book in half for pete's sake! “ Arms go up in frustration, Right quickly pulling them down, glancing back at Henry. Still watching some show that he found. “ Reg, just.. Listen to me “ Right stared at his husband. One hand in his hair. “ I’ll… I’ll go to the school and sort this out. For sure this time… can you stay home and- “ A hand on his cheek silenced Right as Reginald nodded, the phone placed down on the counter behind him. “ Of course. Go now- I’ll be fine with Henry here. “ As Right pressed a quick kiss to Reg’s cheek, he grabbed his keys off the counter, and waved to Henry before closing the door. The car outside started up, then faded away. Then, the phone was picked up once again, and Reginald started scrolling through the contacts. After a while, one was picked, and the father raised the phone up to his ear, sparing a look at Henry. "They won't hurt you ever again, I'll make sure of it"trophy Are You Listening? Cheers roared through the tavern as the helmed musicians ended another one of their songs, mugs full of beer and ale lifted into the air as the chatter from the crowd started up again. The coming winter has brought nearly all the townsfolk into the (surprisingly spacious) tavern to escape the cold wind from the outside. The kitchens were abuzz with orders being called out, chefs and assistants running about. Checking on the stews, opening the ovens to monitor the roasts, and further preparation of the vegetables harvested just a while ago. Even a few familiar faces were running around, the Gastronomer waving them over and delegating a few other tasks. The main area was still filled with chatter, a few of the louder conversations being speckled around the room. Food was finally being passed around again, and the bar was absolutely packed. Groups of friends and even families all sitting together, in the warmth of the tavern… “Helloooo? Is anyone there? Folks, I think that this knight has lost his way in the mind!” Private Knight finally paused his scoping of the tavern to turn to look at the man seated next to him. Announcer Knight, along with Gun and Iron were all sitting to one side chatting. They were… all able to convince him to come out to the tavern. While the music was nice, the office was far more calm. And quiet. And that’s how he liked to keep it. Better for focusing on the more important things. Private Knight grumbled, shaking his head as he raised his glass to the gap in his helm once more, nursing the small amount of whiskey granted to him for the extra coins he slid to the barmaid. It was quite lucky the Magicist was also here, magic potions and mana to keep up with the constant cooling and chilling of the meat and vegetables… the ice cubes were a pleasant surprise too. Most would only expect the likes of King Pridemoor to have access to such a luxury. “I dunno friends, it sure looks like we have lost our dear detective up in the skies! Better call Propeller and his fleet. What do you think dear friends?” Announcer Knight brought his tiny microphone towards Iron, who was in the middle of singing along to a small tune Gun commented on. Iron whipped her head around, stammering as she was nudged on the spot. Her drink remained on the table, hands just in the process of reaching for it. “Dear listeners, I think we have lost Iron too! There’s gotta be some-” “Leave ‘er be, Radio Boy.” The rough voice spilled out of the dark helmet, making Announcer pause, turning back to face Private. “Thought you’d keep the mic at home.” “Well I’ll be, we got you back! What were you all silent about, buddy?” The nickname made him scoff, going for another sip of his glass. Announcer leaned in closer, eager for any kind of answer, anything to add to the story—- … Private Knight kept silent, still sipping from the glass. Announcer huffed. “Alright buddy, I’ll put the mic away. Off the record, just for you.” The knight propped the mic up against the bar, switching it off before resting his arms on the bar. “Now listen, I know you like to keep up appearances and all, but It’s been killing me inside—” “You can think like that?” Unseen eyebrows raise, as Private turners just a bit more in his chair. Announcer scoffed, and Private took the chance to flag down one of the barmaids again. Sliding a few gold coins her way, she took his glass. “Of course I can! Any dear listener needs to have something to listen to with emotion! Listening in to a deadpan deep voice like yours needs more added to it. And while they can’t exactly see you on the radio it would certainly help.” Private Knight paused. His entire body stilled. It was even as if his jacket, still slung over his shoulders has frozen in the slowly increasing warmth of the tavern. The Barmaid swung by again, sliding a new glass of cold whiskey into his hand, a comforting chill. A few moments dragged on, the band in the background starting up once again. “…. Why would I be on the radio?” Private took a quick sip from the glass, the drink burning as it trickled down. “No real use for it, lest for notifying residents of ramped thefts. Regardless, I’m not going on air.” The reaction from Announcer was… Private had to glance out of the gap in his helm, trying not to directly look at the man. He was quiet, a hand to his chin. Private sighed heavily, opting to stare directly in font of him, off to the glasses of alcohol on display. “… what’s on ‘yer mind? I can hear it from here.” “Well, I truly think more folks would be interested in seeing you more. You’ve got fans, you know.” Now he was bringing more attention to himself. Even Iron turned around to stare at the two, an unreadable expression under the helmet. Private’s face was growing warmer by the moment, so he grabbed the fresh drink, downing it. Throwing his head back just a bit, the glass was set a little harder than intended back onto the wooden bar. He groaned. “I don’t need fans, Radio Boy. I require people to follow the law as intended. And since men are men, they don’t listen to reason.” “Well what’s the fun in listening to reason?” Announcer leaned back, before quickly grabbing the bar before he tipped and fell over onto the floor. “You said yourself there was no reason to come out tonight. And look where you are…! Er… Detective Man! HAH!” His laughter filled the space, almost drowning out the band, loud guitar making Private deaf to the world around him. Private heaved in a huge sigh, waving over one last barmaid for some water. She nodded, turning around to tap some from a water barrel just past the bar. Announcer huffed, opting to lean against him. “You really should go out with us moreeee…” Private nudged the knight off of his shoulder, now holding onto the glass just a bit stronger. “Buddy, how much have you drank tonight?” Now he turned to face him fully, hand still firmly on the glass. “Here’s a lesson for you, drink some water before you get too out of hand and I drag you out of this building myself.” “I haven't drunk a DROP of alcohol, my good sir.” Announcer leaned back, a bit more carefully this time, shrugging his shoulders as he lifted his hands. “But you are just a cool glass of-” Announcer Knight suddenly had a fist grabbing the front of his shirt. Private Knight dropped the glass of water onto the bar table, swinging his legs around to slide off the stool. He started to make his way to the door, dragging Announcer along, stammering and sputtering. “H- hey hey HEY!! You left my mic behind, AND your drink- why- where are you tAKING ME?!” The front door of the tavern swung open, Private Knight dragging his friend just a bit further down the side of the building. After finally letting go, Announcer finally stumbled backward away from his friend. Brushing off his now very wrinkled shirt, he reached out to lift his hat, wiping his brow. His eyes rise to see Private reaching into his jacket. “WHAT?!” Announcer took a few more steps back, tripping over his own feet. His legs tangle with one another, making him fall to the cobblestone path below. One hand goes up, shielding him from the incoming arrow through his skull- “Listen I'm sorry for all that in there, really I'm sorry for all the-” A pause. No clink of a metal arrow into the crossbow. Announcer peeked past his outstretched hand, fearful confusion mixing in his soul. Private stared back at him. A cigar held in his hand. A cigar. He got scared by a cigar. “… Announcer, what did you think I was going to do?” The knight still on the ground let out a weak chuckle. “…. Sssssssomething that my listeners wouldn’t be very happy about?” Announcer let out a weak chuckle, as Private groaned. Of course… he should have figured. Reaching out towards him, he offered a hand. Announcer took it, pulling himself up to stand right in front of the tall detective. Well, just by a little. The detective made his way back to the wall, leaning against it as he pulled out a lighter, igniting the end. After a bit, Announcer joined by his side. “… So. Why did you drag me out here, apart from smoking? Even my listeners know I don’t smoke.” A pause, as he tilted his head. “… Was it the comments?” Private took the cigar from the gap in his helm, exhaling the smoke, allowing it to seep from the helmet into mystifying twirls and ribbons. The cigar still had a trail of it on one end, following as he waved his hand. “… You could say… that. And I came out here. To think.” “To… think?” “Yep.” Private took the cigar back to his mouth, breathing in deeply, and after a bit, exhaling again into the chilly sky. “Far too loud in there. Plus, no one can hear us. Better for both of us.” “What do you mean by that, Detective?” Announcer tilted his head, a hand going to rest under is chin. “What does go on in that head of yours, I wonder…?” A smile could now be heard in his voice as the man turned to lean against the other wall, allowing him to face Private. The detective sighed, shaking his head. “If you keep chatting with me, I can’t think straight Radio Boy.” A smile was now heard in his voice, smoke emanating once again from the metal masking his face. Announcer perked up. Raising his hand, about to ask, but that quickly came back down. The two men remained outside for a while, the loud music still heard from within, along with the cheers of the crowd. Eventually, after the cigar was (surprisingly quickly) finished and tossed, the detective spoke once more. “Alright. I’ve decided.” He stepped in front of Announcer. The radio host looked slightly up, trying to meet the unseen eyes of the other man. “I’ve… determined that your comments are. Acceptable.” He turned away to look down the street. Announcer followed his gaze, but when the same old street stared back at them… he looked back at the other. “I only. Need you to answer me… this.” Private Knight coughed, bringing his hand up to where his mouth was. He leaned back against the tavern wall, looking down at Announcer Knight. “Where are you wanting to go with this.” “What do you mean?” Private huffed. Internally, he thanked himself for having a helmet that covered so much of his face. “What I mean, is what do you see us as? Because from what I can see, you want that to change. So tell me.” Private Knight suddenly felt his helmet lift a bit. Announcer pressed the faceplate of their mask up against his lips, He stared in shock, his face still hidden under the helm turning and burning a bright red. Announcer stares for a moment, hands still on the sides of his helmet. He stared. The other stared back. Announcer started to pull away, but Private places his own over his. Then, he chuckled. Outside in the cold, it was far more calm than in the tavern. And quiet. And that’s how he liked to keep it. Better for focusing on the more important things.Similar ArtworksSee Morearrow_outward