pareeksha-putlocker-10k-blog

[loopstagirl]

Firefighting

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 202: The Devil You Forgot. Words: 1000

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“It won’t. You have my word.”

“Very well. Dismissed.”

It took effort not to salute his father (unironically) before walking out. Gordon left the infirmary, hating that the debriefing had to take place in there. But no one wanted to leave Virgil, despite him still sedated against the pain of the burns.

Gordon didn’t want to leave, either. But there was something he had to do.

He moved with purpose, taking the stairs two at a time. He rapped once on Alan’s door then barged in without waiting for a response.

“Gordon!” Alan’s tone was too high, too eager. At least he wasn’t completely oblivious.

Gordon ignored him. “Tin-Tin, honey, can we have a minute?”

“She can stay.”

“It’s okay.” Tin-Tin glanced between the two brothers. “You look like you need to talk.”

As she moved, Gordon winked at her. “Loving the new parting by the way, suits you.”

“Thank you.” Tin-Tin smiled at him, but the look she shot Alan showed it wasn’t only Gordon he was in trouble with.

“I said something looked different,” Alan protested. But Tin-Tin left, closing the door behind her.

“So-,”

“Why did I just cover for you?” All the levity had gone from Gordon’s voice. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t tell Dad and Scott what really happened out there; why Virgil is in the infirmary.”

Alan went pale. “How is he?”

“3rd degree burns, Alan. How’d you think? Brains has him sedated for now.”

Alan sat down on his bed; hands clasped between his knees. He’d gone pale, but Gordon was in no mood to comfort him.

“You need to see him.”

“I can’t,” Alan muttered. “I can’t face him.”

“Deal with it. I covered for you with command, but you owe Virgil an apology. And why, exactly, did I even need to cover for you? You were on the rota to check the foam levels.”

“I did.” Alan deflated under Gordon’s glare. “I thought I did. I guess I just… forgot.”

“Forgot? The devil you forgot! Distracted, more like.”

Alan flushed. Gordon wondered how many shades his brother would go through before this conversation was over.

“I thought I’d done it!”

“No. You thought you’d skimp on it, sneak off with Tin-Tin and hope we didn’t get a rescue needing the equipment. But we did get a rescue, Al. One you didn’t even go on!”

The fires had raged hot and fierce. Gordon had joined Virgil and Scott on the ground, tackling some by hand while Virgil had taken the FireFly further in to reach trapped survivors. He was almost there when the foam had run out. It shouldn’t have done; it should have had twice as much in the tank.

But Virgil, being the heroic idiot that he was (and clearly having spent too much time around Scott), decided it didn’t matter he was in the worst of it. He’d got out, grabbed nothing more than a glorified fire extinguisher, and gone in on foot.

He’d rescued the trapped civilians. He’d got them back to the FireFly.

That was it.

Scott had ordered Gordon to use the cannon on Two to douse the rest. They hadn’t previously – too much of a risk for the trapped survivors. But it didn’t matter anymore. They trusted the FireFly could pick up where it’d failed before, and keep Virgil safe.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you have to say it to,” Gordon snapped. Before he could stop himself, he’d sunk on his brother’s bed, lying back. He was exhausted.

Coming home, he’d put Two on autopilot so he could be with Virgil. But it’d still been stressful, and a relief when his father and Brains had appeared.

“Why did you cover for me?” Alan asked quietly. “You could’ve told Scott.”

“Bro-code, Alan,” Gordon muttered. “Since when have we grassed each other up?”

For their entire lives, they’d been covering for each other. But Gordon propped himself on his elbows.

“But I’m not doing it again. Not for this.” He meant it. Pranks were one thing. Alan being distracted this time could’ve cost their brother his life. “You’ve gotta grow up, kid.”

“Contradiction,” Alan said, with an attempt at a smile. Gordon rolled his eyes.

“C’mere.” He held out an arm. Alan smiled, going in for a hug, then yelped when Gordon pulled him into a headlock instead, digging his knuckles into the younger man’s scalp.

As he shoved Alan away, his little brother looked at him.

“Are we okay?”

“Apologise to Virgil,” Gordon said, “then we’ll be okay.”

Heck knew he could never stay mad at his kid brother.

-x-

Back in the infirmary, Jeff looked at his eldest son. Scott wouldn’t leave Virgil’s side until his brother could come as well. There was going to be a long battle ahead of him to wrangle his boys. But he didn’t care. As long as they could get Virgil back on his feet, that’s all that mattered.

He cleared his throat softly until Scott looked up.

“Gordon.”

“What about him?”

“He’s covering for Alan, isn’t he?”

He’d guessed as soon as Gordon had made his report. If he’d truly been responsible, he wouldn’t have been standing to attention. He would’ve been as close to Virgil as he could get.

But he also knew Scott knew it. There was no way his Field Commander would’ve listened in silence if he truly thought Gordon was to blame.

“Yeah,” Scott said, his tone heavy. “It’s what those two do.”

“Go easy on him.”

“On Alan? Look what he’s done.”

“No,” Jeff smiled. “On Gordon, for lying. You boys are too loyal to each other.”

He looked at Scott, almost on top of Virgil’s bed to be there for his brother, and smiled. He was furious with his youngest, but proud of his fourth-born. It took a lot to hold onto that kind of loyalty when this was the outcome.

Alan may have a way to go. But Gordon had grown up.

[ngkiscool]

Next please

The weekly prompt of @flashfictionfridayofficial was FFF202 The Devil You Forgot

Fandom: Lucifer (Good Omens if you squint), 830 words, no cw

"Next please!" My station was empty, but no one approached it. On the one hand, if offered me a few seconds of relatively rest, but on the other hand, if forced me to shout. Can't be seen resting, not during the rush hour at the Higher Ground.

It was noon of a rather lovely day, finally a sunny day after a week of showers. People strolled in the street, couples shared brief kisses when they thought no one was looking, even the people with the really expensive suits walked a bit slower and enjoyed the rare weather.

Warm beams of sun filtered through the curtains and shed light on the coffee shop, colouring the place with picturesque shades. It also nearly blinded me unless I squinted, despite the many, many times I asked the manager to fix the curtains.

The queue was longer than I've seen in a long time, and not just because of the weather. As if the regular costumers weren't enough, there was a reinforcement – people from the comic con just around the corner.

All day long, I had to deal with costumers who gave me the most unusual names and throw a tantrum if I spelled their name wrong. Some, God forbid, had even asked me which costume they were wearing, and seemed genuinely hurt when I hadn't recognized which TV show it was from.

Honestly, I don't have anything against adult people who dress up as creatures who only exist in a fantasy world. Some of the costumes were pretty, and it was clear that making them required a lot of time and skills. But, just like I don't go around and show my latest sewing art to bus drivers, I don't pay too much attention to my clients' costumes. All I want from them is place a not complicated order and leave a big tip. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Next in line!" I called again, a bit louder this time, and it worked. A costumer approached me, and I started the usual drill of taking their order. Things went smoothly, or as smooth as can be expected when one orders coffee, and I started to relax. Maybe that costumer will act normal through our whole interaction, and won't demand me to guess what was his costume.

It was a good one, I'll give them that. The suit was expensive looking, but nothing a person of means can't find easily. The wings, thought, they looked almost real. They were white, and big, each feature moved separately, and the wings even moved in coordination with his shoulders. Even after seeing a parade of costumes all day long, they seemed special. Like I said, I'm not interested in cosplays myself, but as an artist (and yes, sewing is an art, thank-you-very-much) I can appreciate craftsmanship when I see one.

Usually, people love to get compliments on their costumes, but something vibed weird with this person, so I decided to refrain from commenting. The opportunity, thought, rose when he finished the order, and I asked for his name. The voice matched his outfit – silken, strong, and confident.

"Lucifer".

"I see you are really in the character, even the wings and everything!"

"In character?" A red glint shone in his eyes, gone before I had the chance to complain about the curtains. Maybe if the manages received complaints from customers, not just employees, he would do something about it. One can only hope.

"Yes, with the wings and everything. Very impressive, if you don't mind me saying. Are you participating in the cosplay contest? I'm sure you will win first place."

"Cosplay?"

The temperature in the coffee shop dropped suddenly, and I shivered despite being all hot from being near the oven. The air conditioner hadn't changed, and it didn't look like the other clients had noticed it. Weird.

"Never mind, it's been a long day. I'll just make the order, and here is a piece of lemon cake, on the house".

At last, the coffee was ready, the cake packaged and together napkin and utensils, the take-away bag was handed to him. Our fingers touched briefly, and I felt a chill running through my body, but it was very short. Long day indeed.

I turned to clean the coffee machine, and when I finished and turned to the till again, I was surprised to find a twenty note on it. It was unexpected for two reasons: firstly, it was quite a large sum, as usually people left a fiver or a tenner. Twenty was very rare. Secondly, and even more unusual, was the fact that I hadn't served any costumer in the past few minutes.

Anyway, as my experience at costumer service taught me not to question money, I took the note. Attached to it was a small, white feather, but that hadn't helped to explain how it got there.

Confused, I shook my head, and got back to my work. "Next please!"

[theoriginalsapphic]

death's other kingdom

For @flashfictionfridayofficial

Title: death's other kingdom

Word count: 543

She always show up at nine on the clock. She comes in, dressed in white as the rest of the orderly working there, but whereas the color make them look frigid and austere, on her it makes her appear like an angel coming to save him from this place. He doesn’t belong here; he knows that much.

He doesn’t know where he is, locked in a sterile and morose enclosure like a wild animal that was abducted from his habitat in some faraway land. Everyone either looks at him with a murky, tenebrous look in their glassy eyes, with just pure detachment and scientific curiosity, or with a fixed gaze that tints their irises with scarlet that reveal their subdued thirst for blood whenever they see him.

Everyone but her.

She is not like the rest of them, with her sweet, auburn eyes, and her delicate, diligent hands and the tired but determined look settled in her features. Anytime her coarse fingertips touches his knobby hands, he gets her message: trust me.

Every once in a while, the harsh, fluorescent lights overhead provoke greyish smudges in his vision and blur parts of the woman in front of her— her pleasant smile turns into a grimace stretched painfully in horror, and her friendly eyes become wide and lachrymose with dread.

It doesn’t matter because she is beautiful anyway, with the pronounced lines of a permanent frown between her brows and the tinges of white ash on her fingers from her early smoke breaks. Trust me.

The windows are barred as to forbid any natural light from coming in, the artificial lemon smell from the detergent used to wash his clothes burns his nostrils, and the constant squeak of sneakers on tiled-floor functions as the soundtrack of his daily life. He is trapped in here, and she is his only true ally in this inhumanity.

He taps his skeletal, gnarly hands, and he catches his reflection on the glass outside his room, looking pale as time-worn bones but he isn’t scared; he doesn’t feel fear anymore. He is a patient man; he can wait for her to break him out of here and save him.

—

The police sirens blare in the distance. He can only stare at his slender hands painted crimson and the blood-stained cleaver to testify for what he has done. He stares at his wife laying on the hardwood floor, with her mouth wide open in an aborted scream and the accusatory betrayal of her dilated pupils glaring at him.

He didn’t do it— he could never harm the woman he loves.

He didn’t do this. Someone must had walked in when he didn’t notice, murdered her, and then put the knife in his hand. That is the only way to explain it.

He didn’t do this. The Devil must have tricked him, manipulated him, and forced him to take away from him the one woman he ever loved.

He would never do this; he would never hurt anyone, let alone his wife.

He didn’t do this.

He didn’t do—

He didn’t—

He—

As the walls of the living room are casted in shaking hues of blue and red, he stops existing, leaving a hollow carcass to deal with the fallout.

[m-aximumjoy]

Some interesting similarities between the forms of Falling Devil and Darkness Devil.

There’s the use of multiple bodies to create a singular form, the angular shapes, the mantis-leg-like appendages, the sheer height.

These two also share very strong hand motifs, which makes sense for both of them: when it’s dark, you have to feel your way around, usually with your hands; when you’re falling, you try to grab onto something with your hands.

I’m curious to see if the other Primals look anything like these two.

[denkies]

Me: i ❤ doomed relationship

The doomed relationship: *fulfills the "doomed" title*

Me:

[armandistrans]

adding onto the post i made this blog for:

armand and daniel with their little ponies.

[monachopsissssss]

fanart for weapon by name by @cnwolf-brainrot (hope its ok to tag)

[storytellering]

Hi tumblr how we feeling about some 4N cosplay ⚡️

photos taken by @fadiesismin

[himbionn]

I'll spend my days so close to you

cause if I'm stood here, then I'm stood here

and I'll stand here

I'll stand here with you

[weirdbabs]

thinking about that theory that peekaboo is a sliver of the wight in the locker, and how maybe that means it maintains a sort of connection to the other part and would be able to see part of what it sees and FUCK. FUCK. I JUST REALIZED IT ONLY KNEW HOW TO SAY PEEKABOO WHEN THEY FIRST MET. OVER AND OVER. HIDING ITS FACE WITH LITTLE HANDS. ALMOST LIKE

IT WAS PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK

[honeyandmahogany]

Seeing someone else's Raphael PicMix, I got reminded that I made these weeks ago. And what better place to share these true works of art then Tumblr?!

[valithiri]

Interview with the Vampire (2022-) | 2.08 | 1.03 | 1.02

Louis and his rage

[ancestral-steppe]

[icedlava1]

Dante with ADHD is real guys

[esteemed-excellency]

BYEE

[raayllum]

So Aaravos' parallels to Rayla is being a banished elf separated from her family; for Callum, it's being a mage who went too far likely out of desperation to save loved ones; and for Ezran, it's an inability to ultimately let go and relinquish your anger and hatred towards the people who have taken them from you.