#tot flask

[wheucto]

who else has heard of trials of twelve here

this is the original image i based it off of

also trials of twelve is by the youtube channel of the same name. it has the style of like. an older object show, but it's currently ongoing (as of july 2023). the next episode's on sept. 1

[heartfullofleeches]

I am politely asking for you to write about Erin cross dressing please

(Going off an old request I vaguely remember with Erin overhearing you like feminine guys)

"They're so cute- Hey, Y/n what do you like in a partner?"

Erin leans back in his seat away from the commotion at his table to eavesdrop on yours. You were surrounded by friends flapping their gums over someone one of them was interested in - put on the spot for not giving your two cents.

"Uh, I don't know- someone pretty I guess."

"You mean like those people you follow who wear nice makeup and skirts?"

Your coughing fit is enough of an answer for everyone listening in on the conversation. Erin returns to his group, subconsciously groping his features. He had some softer details thanks to his mother, but was he what others would call pretty? The tingle in his chest combated the nausea from eating school food at the thought of you praising his looks. He picks up a tater tot and chucks it at a girl across the table; it being the only way to get her attention otherwise.

She picks it out of her fruit cup. "What the hell, Erin?!"

"Shut up and give me your lip gloss, Bea."

"Why in the fuck would I do that?"

"I'll tell coach you're the one who stole her flask and replaced it with bleach for giving the lead spot in the parade to someone else."

Beatrix angrily shifts through her bag. "Here."

"Thank you." He tosses her his unopened cup as he gets up from the table and heads to the bathroom. He stops by the janitor's closet and jimmies the broken lock until it pops open, grabbing the out of order sign. He wants for everyone to come out of the restroom and sets the sign up as he enters.

Erin reevaluates himself in the mirror. His long hair did confuse the older crowd when they saw him from a distance. He tucks it all into a high ponytail using a spare bracket as a band. Next, he pulls out the cheerleader's makeup. This isn't his first time with the stuff. Both his mom and older sibling dressed him up in the past whenever he asked about their clothes and was interested in trying them. He let his mother put eye shadow on him whenever they went out as a family.

Erin dispenses some of the gloss on his finger, puckering his lips as he cakes them in the foundation. He smacks them together to even the coat out and looks at the results in the mirror.

It's a start. The gloss is barely noticeable outside bright light, but it adds a little more volume to his lips. He goes back in to work on other parts of himself, but the bell cuts his session short.

"Shit!"

Erin hurries out of the bathroom and down to the cafeteria; forgetting about the sign in his haste. The dining area is nearly empty by the time he gets back, and you didn't have the next period together. He looks back to see if you've already gone, the next person to walk by bumping straight into him.

"Sorry- Oh, hey Erin."

"Sup."

You look him up and down. Erin's teeth pick at his lips in anticipation.

"Not much. You look good. See you next period."

The light force of you walking by almost knocks Erin off his feet. You said something nice about him. He didn't think he'd get this far. Maybe a passing glance, but you completely acknowledge him. You thought he looked good. It was a high he never wanted to fall from. One he craved more of with only one possible solution.

-

Erin hisses in pain as the teeth of his skirt's zipper lodge into his skin. "Fucking damn it-"

He pulls the fabric away from his hip and zips it up; kicking an empty shipping box under his bed. It sticks out of the corner due to the other packages overcrowding the space, but he was too excited to take care of them now or throughout the week they all had arrived. The skirt was the final piece of his outfit which also took the most time to arrive. Erin hooks mini pearl earrings in his ears and pulls his shirt from inside the shirt before looking at himself in the full body mirror by his closet.

The outfit consisted of an off the shoulder light pink top and a black skirt that went down to his thighs. The rest of his legs were covered by white stockings and his ginger hair was yet again pulled back. He wore a more noticeable shade of gloss on his lips and his long eyelashes were extended with the use of a wand. His regular choker was switched with a red one with a heart shaped dog tag. He had muscle, but the skirt hugged his body in a way that showed off his curves. Staring at himself, Erin felt pretty. Time for the next phase.

Erin snaps a photo of him at the mirror. He then gets in his bed with his back against the headboard. He grabs a pillow and hugs it to his chest, tugging his shirt down a bit more as he gets into position. He makes sure that his stocking clad thighs are in frame as he takes another pic and pulls up his contact. He knew your number by heart from the various acquaintances he hustled it off of and when you gave it to himself yourself for a project, but what good boyfriend doesn't have their partner in their phone without a cute title?

Erin sends you the pictures without saying a word. He waits about five minutes to pick up his phone again, both happy and disappointed you haven't opened his text.

"Sorry for the pics. Lost a bet and sent them to the wrong number."

His heart leaps out of his chest as his phone chimes.

"No worries. Hope this is okay for me to say, but you look pretty."

It's more than okay. Erin stares at his phone for ages; eyes rolling over the message countless times yet his brain fails to retain it to memory. He'd probably explode if it did. He experiences a moment of clarity in wondering what your expression was when you saw him. Did you see him as desirable. Did you crave him as badly?

Luck worked in Erin's favor that night - for he may soon have an answer.

"Hey- actually, do you want to come over? I'm bored and thought we could hang out or something."

[ohnogodpls]

Hi!

I would like to say that I love your Neuvillette art!

It’s warm and copmfty and your Neuvillette has such grandpa energy he makes me want roll him in blankets and give him hot chocolate.

Also, idk if you saw, but I find the description of Neuvillette’s speciatlity dish very funny:

“Neuvillette's specialty. He claims he specifically selected the purest, chill waters from the highest mountains to create this exquisite and matchless treasure. Though it does have a refreshing quality, as for how the overall flavor of the soup is no different from ordinary soups, it's probably best not to mention it...”

Grandpa goes to such lengths to make sure we drink only the purest water and so to not upset him we say nothing ToT.

Aww yeah I saw it and it's so silly and cute. He is a very refined gentleman and will treat his friends to the very best :)c I just imagine him taking special comfort in cooking something with extra effort, taking some time off after a busy week to just get the best herbs, the best ingredients from the market and then he just goes on a whole trip to the mountains to get like one flask of water :D

[flaringfoxsoul03]

Obey Me Headcanons!

Note: Personal hcs that I’ve thought about! All about the brothers!

Trigger warnings: Mentions of alcohol, drugs, emotional abuse, bodily harm, suicidal thoughts, sexual abuse, depression, anxiety, eating disorders, murder

———————————————————————

Lucifer

Contrary to belief, Lucifer definitely drinks more than just Demonus. Despite it being his favorite go to in general and usually available alcohol, there’s more kinds of demonic alcohol that exists. Having being with the Demon Prince almost always, this demon with literally no ability to stop needs a stout drink and Demonus isn’t always on hand

I also personally believe that he has a little flasks that magically bigger on the inside. One for coffee and one for alcohol. And yes, he’s accidentally mixed them up once before and let’s just say he definitely struggled that day. Diavolo, Barbatos, Satan, and Belphie were they only ones to realize this and ultimately decided that Lucifer may need the weekend to recover. Satan and Belphie together decided to run and do their eldest brother’s work for the weekend with a couple of instructions from Barbatos while Diavolo pampered Lucifer. Lucifer found it hard to accept until after dinner at the palace when Diavolo sat him down and explained what he hoped to do for him. Albeit embarrassed, Diavolo was allowed and Lucifer actually had a pleasant weekend, no punishments needed to be dished out when he came home on the next school day and even gave rewards to Satan and Belphie for doing the unexpected (this turned into allowing Belphie and Satan to do two pranks that he purposely fell for, each one led by the other as it was agreed upon and couldn’t be deadly or destroy work for Lord Diavolo)

Lucifer often sneaks (as in actually taking a break) off to take care of Cerberus more often than not when he can’t handle the stress anymore. It’s not like the Avatar of Pride can really hire anyone to take care of his massive demonic dog, it’s kinda of got a reputation for turning demons and most other things into chew toys before they see Lucifer again

Secretly wears sweatshirts with hoodies when he’s having a rough go at it. Only ever wears it in his room with the door locked magically and physically. He can’t stand the idea of looking unkempt in front of anyone, but also suffers severely from his own heavy loads of stress that having some comfort while working is better than none

Mammon

Mammon definitely smokes weed. The poor demon allows himself to be a punching bag day in and out without a thanks, he’s also gonna need his own personal stress reliever

Unlike Lucifer, Mammon isn’t addicted to it as he limits how often he indulges and what he’ll go through. Definitely helps take off the edge of his brothers and haters spiteful words on those especially rough days

Some days are too much and he’ll self harm himself, he’s a masochist, he’ll reason to no one in particular. He’s never let it slip to the others because he’s not too fond of dredging up bad memories of him and Michael before he went to Lucifer. He, again, doesn’t indulge very often and usually takes place after smoking weed if it doesn’t stop the absolute mind numbing pain that attacks him almost daily

Gets high with Satan and Belphie when he caught them with a ridiculously large amount of weed and helps them cover up their tracks in exchange of dipping into the weed stash with consent of course. Still occasionally gets high with one or both of them, Satan more often as his little brother is an anxious smoker

Leviathan

Despite downplaying himself, Levi is incredibly strong. He works as the Admiral Captain for the Devildom’s Navy scene, he’s dealing with waves not many come back from. Worst that came of it is that he was soaking wet with a few bruises here and there after an excursion from a tropical storm on a sea voyage home. The ship he was on was the only one to return from the trip relatively unharmed despite starting with 5 sea vessels…

He doesn’t realize it yet, but he totally is able to control water similar to waterbenders, but it’s more of mental image of it and the water following that image guideline. He definitely could fly in the sense he uses water bending techniques in the air to propel himself any direction he gets

Has a heat lamp he’ll lay under when the weather is suboptimal for sea demons, he has a hard time regulating his own temperature. Though he is prone to inadvertently sunburning or catching himself on fire due to him passing out comfortably, so more often than not Beel will watch him in favor of snack bribes from Lucifer and Levi putting on one of Beel’s favorite TV shows in Levi’s room with the promise of cleaning up after himself

Levi has been considering getting some piercings or a couple of tattoos in honor of his favorite animes, but he’s too terrified of the pain and the people he’d have to deal with. More so the people, can’t stand normies. Also, hasn’t told anyone about these ideas because he’s not quite sure how to put it into words when Asmo and Mammon talk about more suggestive piercings at the dinner table the one time Lucifer was staying at the castle for the weekend…

Satan

As stated before, Satan also smokes weed, but he prefers to do it in the company of someone he trusts. Specifically Belphie or the rare occasion Mammon. He gets far too anxious by himself and he worries that Lucifer will come in at any moment when he is high

Satan, despite being very academically gifted, does actually participate in sports. More specifically, the demon version of cross country. No one really knows about this since it’s not as highly celebrated as Fangol, but his team is very much supportive regardless and gets to go to many cat cafes as after their demonic cross country meets. This is how he keeps in shape during the shenanigans his family gets into when he is unable to exercise on his own time

This demon has said a word or two of influence to humans before teleportation out of the Devildom was forbidden that may have resulted to the nation wide phenomenon of cat cafes in Japan and other parts of the world are starting to catch onto this popular trend with other varieties than just cats. No one knows but himself, which he is very proud of himself which manages to baffle Lucifer once in a blue moon when he feels his little brothers random swells of pride

Has considered starting a professional writing career, but I think he’s stuck on the idea that he has to choose a singular group to focus his stories on instead of writing for all groups with different styles. Let him figure it out, he’s going to realize at some point when his brothers are fighting over a similar topic and that’s when he’ll get started on it. It’ll probably turn into a giant project he’ll love so much

Asmodeus

Has been the victim of rape only once before. Asmo was just completely shocked and out of it for weeks when it happened to him and it took him awhile to process it. The only ones who knew initially was Lucifer, Solomon, and Barbatos. Simple enough to say, they took care of Asmo and the moron who thought it was a good idea to mess with the government of the Devildom. Asmo eventually told his other brothers everything which turned into a massive movie night sleepover in a common room while in a new group chat without Asmo dug around for details to see if they could still get involved with dealing out the deck of cards the idiot who touch Asmo would have to work with. Luckily, Barbatos figured this would happen and left the moron alive for the rest of the brothers to take a shot at

Definitely a supporter of the LGBTQ community, doesn’t need to say much after the hashtag “Princess Asmo” made scenes everywhere with Asmo all done up in a princess dress for a photo shoot for Majolish with a spoiler picture on Devilgram with him saying in the description, “Not all princesses start off as princesses,” with the hashtags supporting the LGBTQ community. This was also mistaken as an engagement announcement to Diavolo due to him also being in the photo spoiler in similar regalia. There was a post about it by the RAD newspaper and and RAD newsletter online explaining by the official sources (aka Lucifer and Barbatos) that it was not the case, just Diavolo wanting to experience the hardships of how much work the fashion industry puts into their work. The full reveal of the photo shoot showed it was not just a royal version as they showed off many different styles of clothing

More often than not, Asmo often gets hired as a interior decorator, exterior decorator, or the rare occasion both as he is famous for working with themes and turning them into fabulous fashionable places. Pictures, rumors have it, do it no justice. And they’re always right

At one point, Asmo did think about getting a long term pet. But he couldn’t choose which one he wanted to be associated with for the rest of their lifespan, so he’s still trying to weigh out pros and cons and to see which one Lucifer would allow him to keep

Beelzebub

Has a severe case of a eating disorder due to immense amounts of guilt he feels almost constantly. I see him more as a bulimic kind of a guy, he can not not eat, but he also feels like he doesn’t deserve it. Only Belphie has picked up on this and more often than not trying to stop Beel from harming himself. It hasn’t gotten to the point where he needs to make Beel or the others aware of his condition, but is definitely a stressor for the twins for different reasons at the moment

Doesn’t really get it, but he records his workout sessions and posts it to Deviltube. He had to get pointers from Asmo and has gotten help with editing by Levi and usually has Belphie record them if they’re together, which is usually the case. Surprisingly (yet unsurprisingly), to Beel, his Deviltube has gained lots of attraction due to what many call “insane workouts”

Usually has lollipops in his mouth while he’s working if he can’t get a full snack in before homework time, but that’s assuming he doesn’t just straight up chomp them away or his saliva isn’t so potent that it basically dissolves in his mouth within about a minute. His favorite brand at the moment come from Madam Screams, known to make real screamers for the mouth-bursting flavor as time passes

Is very much a local and very popular food critic, but more often than not, Lucifer, Satan, and Belphie have to translate Beel speak for the rest of the population in the food industry so they don’t accidentally make an entire business die just because Beel said it was good as his only response

Belphegor

Definitely has self harming tendencies, but refrains from actually doing something on purpose due to his twin connections. He’s not too keen on the idea to how he could explain to Beel why he could feel Belphie actively harming himself

As stated before, Belphie smokes weed. Not only as a stress reliever, it also allows himself to really think to himself about issues he was just sleeping away. He’s definitely a quiet smoker, not as talkative which can occasionally freak Satan out if they’re smoking together. Other than the rare occasion of Mammon joining in for a few hits here and there, he usually prefers to smoke by himself

Unlike Mammon and Satan, Belphie is very much addicted to weed. Once he starts, he can’t get himself to stop until it’s all gone. In an attempt to regulate himself, he lets Mammon and Satan keep track where the supplies are and always asks them to set an amount for him. They unknowingly keep Belphie from overdoing it and frequently, which is nice when you don’t have enough self control yourself to manage it. However, withdrawal symptoms kick his ass hard and ends up sleeping a lot more to recover

Absolutely is an assassin. Only Barbatos knows as Belphie is often given missions from him to complete which help regulate the pathetic crime rings that still exist in the Devildom. His alias is known and feared as the Nightmare Crusher, often leaving an example of demons who thought they were above the government in grotesque fashion. None of his brothers are any wiser than what Barbatos tells them or bothered to put it together

——————————————————————-

That’s it! Hope you liked what I’ve tried to come up as what I thought was near original!

~Fox

[mint-hiddenite]

Vriska Undertale

Technology

Ancient Gem Colony Ship - Ancient Troll Colony Ship

The Appalachian - The Appalachian

Attack Pods - Voot Runners

Chrono Panic 4 - Overkill's The Walking Dead

Communication Hub - Communication Hub

Destiny Destroyer - Viral Tank

Diamond Communicator - The Tallest Communicator

Diamond Ships - The Alternia (The Black/Blue/Yellow/Pink Massive(s))

Dondai Supremo - 2001 Honda Civic

Escape Pod - Escape Pod

Flask Robonoids - SIR Units

G.UY.S. Dispenser - G.U.Y.S. Dispenser

Garnet’s Keytar - Dirk’s Keytar

Gem Destabilizer - Zodiac Destabilizer

Gem Drill - Sexy Drill “The Penetrator”

Gem Pedestals - Zodiac Pedestals

Gem Warship - Troll Warship

Golf Quest Mini - Star Wars Mini

Greg’s Van - Sans’ Van

Hand Robonoid - Minimoose

Holo-Connie - Holo-Miku (it/its) (Hologram)

Holo-Pearl - Holo-Onceler (it/its) (Hologram)

Hot 2 Tot - Hot Tot Pic

Hyper Space - Ludicrous Speed

Injectors - Inculcators

Jelly Jiggler - Horse Plinko

Jenny’s Car - Baby (Dean’s Impala)

Limb Enhancers - PAK Legs

Meat Beat Mania - Dance Dance Revolution

Observation Orb - Observation Pyramid

Peridot’s Voice Recorder - ZIM’s Voice Recorder

The Perils of Pweepwee - Kirby’s Dream Land (Purple Caprittarius Zodiac)

Plug Robonoids - SIR Units

Prime Kindergarten Control Room - Prime Bucket Control Room

Punch Buddy - Dummy

Race Rush - Sugar Rush

Replicator Wand - Replicator Wand

Road Killer - Grand Theft Auto 5

Roaming Eye - Dalek

Robot Shooty Thing - Pea Shooter (it/its) [Plants vs. Zombies Series] (Bio Machine)

Ronaldo’s Phone - Guillermo’s Phone

Shattering Robonoids - Control Brains

Skee Ball - Skee Ball

Spinel’s Injector - Pinkie Pie’s Inculcator

Star Skipper - Down with the Cis

Steven’s Phone - Vriska’s Phone

Steven’s TV - Vriska’s TV

Steven’s Video Game Systems - Vriska’s Video Game Systems

Sun Incinerator - Star Destroyer

The Teacups - The Vanilla Extract Cups

Teens of Rage - Street Fighter

Tsunami - Tidal Wave Runner

TubeTube - U-Toobz

Turbo Race - Sugar Rush

The Universe Mach 3 - The Undertale Mach 5

Virtua Teens if Rage - Street Fighter 2

Visor Robonoids - SIR Units

Whacker Man - Whack-a-Mole

Whacker Man Jr. - Whack-a-Mole Jr.

[bedlamsbard]

1K written today -- end of the chapter is in sight.. At this point I'd normally optimistically predict this weekend, but Dragon Con is this weekend so that's exceedingly unlikely.

Snippet from Of Home Near chapter 10.

Natasha Romanoff Rogers was sitting at the end of a table with Jones and Falsworth a little ways along it, talking quietly and playing cards.  They both looked up as Peggy came in, then got up at her nod and moved to the opposite end of the table.  Natasha looked up too, her expression wary as Peggy sat down across from her. Her eyebrows rose slightly as Peggy produced Howard’s flask and poured a tot of his good brandy into her mostly empty coffee cup, then found a new cup and poured herself some, sans coffee.  From the smell Peggy could tell it was ersatz coffee, not the real bean. “What do you want?” Natasha asked her, sounding tired. “Do you hate me?” Peggy asked her.  It wasn’t the question she had meant to ask. Natasha shook her head. “Why would I hate you?” “Because I’d take your husband if I could.”  It was the first time Peggy had said the words out loud and even she winced a little at how blunt they were.  She had never wanted to be that kind of woman; she wasn’t particularly enjoying finding out that she was that kind of woman. Natasha shook her head again. “That’s not exactly grounds to hate someone.  If I’m going to hate someone, I have better reasons for it.”  For a moment her expression was bleak, though Peggy had the impression she was being allowed to see it. You hate them because they tell you who to kill, who to fuck, who to be… “It was true, wasn’t it?” Peggy asked her. “What you said to Larionova today?”

[askmadcomcrew]

THROW EACHOTHER UNDER THE BUS

WHATS SOMETHING YOU KNOW ABOUT ANYONE HERE THATS A RED FLAG

Hank: Doc doesn't know how to tie his shoelaces.

Sanford: I once watched Deimos eat a tater tot off the floor.

Deimos: I've seen Sanford drink milk straight out of the carton before.

Doc: I think Hank himself is a walking red flag.

Tricky: RED FLAGS!? OH, I LOVE RED FLAGS!!! ESPECIALLY IF THEY USED TO BE WHITE AND ARE NOW RED BECAUSE I PULLED IT OUT OF SOMEONE'S FRESHLY SPLIT OPEN CORPSE!!!

Jeb: Doc's experiments are beyond inhumane. Crackpot is an insane cultist who thinks himself more powerful than he really is. Hofnarr is...Hofnarr.

Crackpot: Dr. Christoff used to drink on the job. I know what was in that flask! Heh heh!

Sheriff: I ain't in the business of tarnishin' folks' reputations that don't need tarnishin'. I wouldn't want anyone talkin' bad 'bout me, so I ain't gonna talk bad 'bout anyone else. Comprende?

Phobos: Why would I waste my time on petty gossip? If I don't like someone, I'll just kill them.

Auditor: I'm sure my fellow employers have more to say about me than I do them.

[brievenuitinnsbruck]

Zomermaanden deel 2

Het volgende is een relaas van invloeden, artikels, podcasts, foto’s, woorden en flarden van ideeën die deze zomer voorbij kwamen. De zomer in Innsbruck heeft zich volledig ontvouwen: wisselvalliger als in de winter, natter en met frissere avonden als in de rest van Europa. Nooit een hitte-golf en altijd alles nat van de dauw tot later als 8h. Gras is groen, niet dor, zelfs als het goed platgelopen werd, zoals in de parken.

De mogelijkheden voor berg-liefhebbers zijn oneindig. Augustus is op verschillende vlakken de schoonste maand van de twaalf. Een maand van stro, mosselen, hete asfalt, glimmende appels, komkommertijd. Toch in Oostenrijk. Een maand voor de kleur oranje. Of is dat gewoon gevoelsmatig? Jaren was geel mij lievelingskleur. Sinds enkele weken merk ik dat ik vooral aangetrokken wordt door de kleur oranje.

Twee andere tonelen in de wereld geven een andere indruk. Ook in deze maand gaat de oorlog in Oekraïne genadeloos door. Ze wordt met de dag oninteressanter, pijnlijker, menselijker en vuiler. Midden augustus was ook (op de verjaardag van mijn geliefde broer) 1 jaar Taliban-bezetting. Dit evenement raakte snel ondergesneeuwd door andere Europese luxe-problemen. De berichtgeving was even chaotisch als de Amerikaanse uitmars. Omdat het minder gemakkelijk te verstaan als als Poetin versus de rest, hebben de meesten onder ons het dan maar gecategoriseerd als ver-van-ons-bed-show. De informatie-oorlog die zo sluw gespeeld wordt in Oekraïne, staat niet op punt in het Midden-Oosten... 

Hieronder een kort relaas van de Oekraïnse schrijver Artem Chekh (gestolen van the Monocle newsletter, een aanrader trouwens).

Into the woods

I live with 20 combatants, all recruits in Ukraine’s Territorial Defence Forces, in an old house in Polesia, a wetland region north of Kyiv. The columns of Russian troops aiming for Kyiv passed through here. Every family can tell you about the horrors of the occupation. Residents of the area help us with food: milk, eggs, venison. We help them with gasoline and our presence. They are calmer with us, they say. If we are here, there is no enemy.

In late March the Russians were forced to turn back from the capital and my unit was moved into the woods near the border with Belarus. We heard stories of murder and looting, mined cemeteries, raped girls and boilers stolen from houses. When we entered a new village, the women would surge towards us, hugging, crying and thanking us. But we were embarrassed. We hadn’t liberated these lands; we hadn’t chased the Russians away.

My unit moved here to prevent a new attack on Kyiv, to build defensive ditches, dugouts and bunkers while more armed units are fighting in the east and south of Ukraine. We have come to terms with the fact that the war will be long and we will have to reconquer our territories one at a time. This is a great and terrible war. But I know that we will win. We have no other option.

I’m lying on an army couch. I haven’t taken off my shoes because I’m on patrol in half an hour. We are prepar­ing to go somewhere closer to the fighting in the east or south. I’m glad because, right now, the stoves in our house are so hot that I can’t breathe. A long night of patrolling the woods is ahead of me. I’ll lie down for a while, then I’ll make myself a coffee, fill my flask and go out into the dark woods, hoping to finally meet a deer. I have never seen a live one before.

Peter Attia blijft ook prikkelen met toffe artikels en podcasts. Eén van zijn recente nieuwsbrieven ging over over de risk compensation theory.

Dit concept verwijst naar het valse gevoel van veiligheid dat je creëert door een helm/gordel/ander beschermingsmateriaal te dragen. Deze moderne hybris zou onze rem op risico-vol gedrag verminderen en ons hierdoor meer gevaar doen opzoeken. Daardoor zouden dus bv. fietshelmen statistisch gezien ‘slecht’ zijn voor ons.

Het concept is moeilijk te onderzoeken en lijkt mij eerder gewoon een fancy naam voor het feit dat ons hele leven nu eenmaal een spel van statistiek is... Het is in elk geval iets waar quasi elke bergtocht over gesproken wordt. Veel berggidsen dragen om deze reden ook geen helm of lawine-airbag...

To grind. Wroeten. Een activiteit die persisterende inspanning en concentratie vraagt. Een schoon woord, dat wordt uitgebouwd in dit filmpje van Shimano.

Een ander land dat ik blijf volgen is Rwanda. Hieronder een uittreksel uit ‘De Tijd’ van een Belg die goed weergeeft wat er broeit in Kigali.

Mentorship.

Iets essentieel om te blijven groeien. En groeien op een duurzame manier. Initieel moet je majeure stappen zetten. Dan moet je dagelijks uitgedaagd worden, “überfordert sein” (zoals het zo mooi klinkt in het Duits). Maar eenmaal dat je bijna of even goed bent als je collega’s/vrienden/concurrenten, dan heb je de plateau-fase. Die is niet slecht. Je kan hier perfect blijven. Je kan hier gelukkig zijn en de wereld elke dag een klein beetje beter maken. Maar als je die laatste percenten wilt binnenhalen en dit op een manier dat je je geconnecteerd voelt met je omgeving en iets dat daarboven stijgt, dan heb je een mentor nodig. Iemand van een andere generatie, een vriend, een persoonlijke band is essentieel. Maar iemand met meer ervaring en die er zelf ook profijt/plezier uithaalt om jou te helpen.

Fietsen, fietsen, fietsen. Innsbruck ligt op een passage die heel wat bikepackers verbindt. De snelwegen en jaagpaden zijn gevuld met alle vormen en maten van fietsers. Je herkent ze aan minstens 1 grotere zak die aan hun stuur of kader hangt. Allen worden ze aangetrokken door het zuiden. Niet om daar aan te komen maar vooral om de weg ernaar toe, namelijk over de Alpen.

Zo geraakte ik op de fiets aan de praat met een Duitser uit München. Hij was wat op zoek naar zichzelf, was hang-over van de vodka van de avond ervoor en was onderweg zonder eten. Daarnaast had zijn eerste tocht hem al opgezadeld met een neuropathie-probleem. Ik gaf hem handschoenen en al mijn energiebars. Hieronder uittreksel van onze schrijfsels.

De link naar het artikel waarover we het hebben, vindt u hier.

[nethercomfies]

For the event thing, I'd love to ask Albedo with prompt 12 (the "is that a drawing of me?" One), Gorou with 48 ("even if the world is burning i just want to be with you") and Xiao with 36 ("you wrote a song for me?")

I'm in the need of fluff with my fav charas and also I'm just a sucker for Xiao's connection with music and dance akdnsnsn

Hey, Fifteen!! I uh… Hope you're still in need of fluff with them now, sorry it took so long ahaha ToT

Note: Since I already did the one with Albedo here, I got a different prompt for him, being “That is not what the instructions said”!

Characters: Albeo, Gorou, Xiao

Prompts: Various

Content: Mostly fluff, a bit of angst for Gorou, discussions of anxiety for Xiao; Albedo and Gorou are canon verse, Xiao is modern au, gn!reader

For my 200 followers event

Albedo — “That is not what the instructions said.”

You cough and desperately wave your hands around, trying to get rid of the smoke caused by the explosion caused by… You. You were supposed to try mixing this potion on your own after Albedo explained the basics to you, but something must have gone wrong. With a defeated sigh you set down the flask and look over to Albedo for help, only to find him trying to stifle a laugh.

“Did you tell me to do that on purpose?” You huff, only to have Albedo break out into laughter in return. You didn’t think he’d trick you like that, especially considering how adamant he is about lab safety, but with how he’s doubling over laughing right now, you’re not so sure anymore.

“I didn’t, no. I’m laughing because your expression after that concoction exploded was really cute,” he says in between small giggles that make it hard to stay mad at you. After he’s gained his composure back, he walks over to you, glancing over your shoulder. “What did you do anyway?”

You give him a helpless shrug. “I don’t know, you tell me! You’re the one teaching me alchemy here, you know?”

Albedo picks up the bottle, swirling it around a little before moving to smell it. “How many drops of whopperflower nectar did you give in there.”

You think for a moment, trying to remember. It was 3 dandelion seeds, 1 sweetflower, 4 snapdragons, and… “6 drops of whopperflower nectar?” You finally offer.

“Well, there you have it,” Albedo says, giving you a soft smile. “That’s not what the instructions said. Look again!” He pulls the old alchemy book over for you. 5 drops of whopperflower nectar it says.

“It was just one more drop, how could I have known it would immediately blow up in my face?” You frown.

“That’s an entirely different mixture. Actually, I sometimes help Klee make her bombs with that,” Albedo explains, pulling you into a hug. “It’s alright, you’ll know better next time.”

“I feel like I’ll never get a grasp on alchemy the way you do,” you admit with a frown.

Albedo cups your cheeks, rubbing off a smudge of dust from the explosion with his thumb. “I’ve been doing this for a long time now… You’ll get the hang of it eventually. I’m here to guide you,” he assures you, kissing your forehead. “Now, how about we try making that potion once more and this time I’ll make sure nothing happens, yeah?”

Gorou — “Even if the world is burning, I just want to be with you.”

You can tell Gorou’s frustration is growing with every new setback the resistance has to suffer. Cut-off supply chains, hurt soldiers, lost battles… You admire the strength he shows in front of his men, always putting on a smile and offering words of motivation for them, no matter how dire the situation is.

But when he slips into bed next to you in the evenings, you see the dark circles under his eyes, the facade he puts up cracking when you pull him closer to let him bury his head in your chest. It takes a toll on him, even if he tries his best to hide it.

He seems especially tired tonight, not even changing his clothes before he drops into your arms, just breathing in your scent for a while. “Today’s battle didn’t go as expected at all,” he eventually mumbles as you pet his head, careful not to hurt his ears. “I don’t know how many more losses the soldiers can take… And I can’t blame them for losing hope, either.”

You hum in response. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve got this,” you assure him, letting out a small sigh. “I wish I could be of more help to you guys as well, but…”

“You do,” Gorou cuts you off, lifting his head to look at you. “I don’t know if I could just push through like this if it wasn’t for you. I want a future for us where we can just be happy, without constantly having to worry about the vision hunt decree or whatever else the shogunate is trying to do… You give me the strength to get up and keep going, even if it’s hard. Because even if the whole world is burning right now, I just want to be with you.”

You cup his cheek, smiling at him. “In that case, I promise to stay by your side, so you always have something to fight for. I’d like to see that future you speak of, together with you.”

He softly smiles at you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll get us there,” he promises, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

Xiao — “You wrote a song for me?”

It always amazes you what a calming effect Xiao has on you. Not even ten minutes ago you were nervously pacing up and down your room, hands growing cold in a small rush of anxiety, your heart beating a little bit too fast — And now that Xiao has his arms wrapped around you in a welcoming embrace, you feel your worries melt away, replaced by the fondness your boyfriend always fills you with.

He pulls away to look at you, a soft smile forming on the edges of his mouth that only you ever get to see. “So, are you going to tell me what you called me over for now?” He asks, casually letting himself drop down on his usual spot on your bed. For a split second, you grow nervous again, but you shake that feeling off and focus on your boyfriend in front of you.

“Yeah…” You start, “I’ve actually wanted to show you something,” you explain, taking one last deep breath before pulling out your laptop and sitting down next to Xiao who watches with a curious glance as you pull up the file you wanted to show him. He rests his head on your shoulder, absentmindedly reading the many file names, many of which he recognizes as songs you’ve written in the past. Eventually, you find what you’re been looking for, and Xiao’s eyes widen a little when he reads the file’s name.

“Xiao” is all it says — It could be anything, really, but the fact that it’s saved with your other songs would mean that… “You wrote a song for me?” He asks, causing you to shoot him a nervous glance, feeling insecure after all.

“I did… Oh, but if you don’t wanna listen to it, that’s fine. We can just pretend I never-”

Xiao places a hand on yours, giving you a small smile. “What made you think that? You know I love your music. The fact that you wrote something just for me flatters me.” You feel your anxiety fall off at his gentle words — Of course, there was nothing for you to worry about. Not when it comes to Xiao.

He lifts your hand to press a kiss on its back. “So, you wanted to show it to me now?”

You nod, handing him one side of your earphones.

While the song is playing, your eyes are fixated on him, curiously watching his expression and the smile that just seems to grow wider and wider. Xiao leans his head on your shoulder, wrapping an arm around you as he listens.

Once it’s done you look at him expectantly. “What do you think?” You ask.

Xiao smiles up at you. “I think… I might have a new favorite song. That was beautiful… You’re truly talented and I’m glad I inspired you to write a song.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Well, you do inspire me a lot… I’m glad you liked it.”

“Actually,” Xiao starts, giving you a little smirk as he grabs your hand, “could we listen to it again? But this time… I want to dance with you.”

Taglist: @yaeism @thelost-in-time @kaeyasstarlight @reinaphoria @xxsweetdreamzxx @xiaoslxt @xialatvs @the-mourning-stars @evisnotok @orchidishh @zorosbozo

Blue names are the ones I can’t tag. If you see your name marked blue, feel free to fill out the taglist form once more to get it fixed ^^

Wanna join my taglist? You can do so here!

[opulentbastard]

Sam’s flask gag resulting in Laura telling Marisha “You’ve got some good tots [tits]” and Marisha and Matt agreeing and then the party levels up and the episode ends. good ending

[jwillowwolf]

Magic and Miracles - Chapter 1

Sanders Sides Big Bang fic, Chapter 1!

< Prologue | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Summary: Roman huffed. “Anyone could have done that.”

“Well, if they knew the spells, then yes,” Logan agreed.

“He’s just jealous of the grand show you made of it,” Remus chuckled.

“I am not jealous.”

“Oh, then why are your eyes so green?”

“They’re naturally this colour, idiot.”

“Ah, but not in such a poisonous shade.”

Warning/s: food mention, fantasy racism.

Characters: Logan, Emile, Remy, OCs, Virgil, Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus.

Read on AO3

1 | A Whole New World

Logan had been figuratively buzzing with anticipation ever since Mr Ainmosni had come to the bakery and offered him the chance of a lifetime. Now, one week later, he was about to be picked up for his first day of school. Everleigh had come around to see him off, and Emile had made them both pancakes with Crofters jam for breakfast.

“Do you think you’ll get to meet the prince?” Everleigh asked during their meal.

Logan shrugged. “Probably not. He’s never shown his face in public since he was a kid, after all.”

“Why though.” Everleigh wondered. “He’s the crown prince after all. Aren’t princes supposed to be big public figures or something?”

“Perhaps he hides his identity for the sake of protection. Again, he is the crown prince.” Logan pointed out.

“I guess you have a point there. Ooh, you are going to get to meet some nobles though.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You’re the first non-noble to qualify for a magic license, so your classmates must be from the nobility.”

“Hmm, that seems most logical. Though I will meet and study with them, I doubt we’ll become friends.”

“Again with the selling-yourself-short! You’re awesome Lo, anyone, noble or otherwise, would be lucky to befriend you. Just don’t go getting yourself a new best friend, okay?”

“I’d never dream of it. But if I’m going to be spending so much time studying, then I hope you’ll consider finding yourself more friends.”

“I’ve got a library full of books, I don’t need more friends than that.”

“Ev…”

“Okay, I’ll socialise, if you do the same on your end.”

“I still don’t think anything will come of it, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Hey, kiddo, did you make sure to pack enough underwear?”

“Dad!” Logan exclaimed in embarrassment while Everleigh snickered at the question.

“I’m being serious, Logan. You don’t want to run out.”

“I am positive that I’ve packed everything I’m going to need.”

“Even your-”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t finish my sentence.”

“I’ve packed clothes, books, hygiene products, spare clothes, and a spare binder.”

“Okay. Don’t forget to take a break from binding every few hours. If I hear anything about you neglecting to do so, then make no mistakes I’ll march over there myself to see that you do.”

“I know. I can take care of myself dad.”

Everleigh snorted. “If it weren’t for us, you’d have probably worked yourself to death.”

Logan looked at her with a you-are-not-helping expression, then turned back to his dad. “I’ll be fine. Besides, Mr Ainmosni is going to be taking care of us.”

Emile frowned. “I don’t doubt that Remy is a good teacher if he’s been put in charge of this, but I feel that he’s not completely… responsible.”

“He definitely fancies you if the constant flirting was any indication,” Everleigh teased.

Logan snickered. “Yeah, you went red as a tomato.”

“Oh shush,” Emile scolded, blushing at even the memory.

“I’ll be okay though, you really don’t have to worry.”

“You know I will either way, but I am proud of you. It feels like just yesterday you two were tiny tots running around the bakery. Now, look at you! A library apprentice and a wizard in training.”

“We have come a pretty long way, haven’t we,” Logan smiled.

Everleigh laughed. “I don’t think I’m anywhere near as accomplished as you.”

“I wouldn’t be where I am without you. How else could I have studied those library books for countless hours without you making sure to keep tabs on them.”

“It’s not like I had much to worry about when you read at the speed of light.”

“I’m going to miss studying there.”

“Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. It’s not like you’re going to the next town over or anything.”

“I suppose. Though I really won’t be able to spend as much time there as before.”

“Don’t go getting homesick already, Lo. I already miss you, but this isn’t a goodbye.”

“Definitely not. I’ll probably visit this weekend.”

“Then I’ll be here Saturday morning to hear all about what you’ve done.”

Logan nodded. He was glad that they would stay friends, even if they could only see each other on weekends. He’d known Everleigh since they were babies after all. Not having her around would be weird.

The bell above the shop door rang and the trio in the kitchen heard Remy call. “I have arrived!”

They went to the bakery and saw Remy standing there in the same outfit as before, however this time he had a strange flask in his hand.

Emile frowned. “What’s that?”

“Midnight elixir. My own special concoction. It’s a touch bitter but really helps if you need an energy boost. Want a try?”

“Oh, uh, no thank you.”

“Woah, are you guys riding in that?” Everleigh gasped when she saw the carriage parked outside.

It was a standard chestnut brown box carriage with white swirls and spirals decorating it all around, and a pair of beautiful cream coloured horses pulling it.

“Yep. Ready to go, Logan?”

Logan nodded. “I just need to grab my bag from upstairs.”

He quickly went and got his suitcase then paused a moment to look around his room. He wouldn’t see it again for a while. Honestly, he’d never been away from home for longer than an overnight stay at Everleigh’s house. The reality of leaving everything he knew behind was both exciting and frightening. He truly didn’t know what to expect at this magic school apart from that he’d learn magic. This was a huge step to take and he wasn’t entirely sure of his readiness anymore.

But when he got downstairs and saw his dad and Everleigh’s proud expressions, he knew that there was no turning back now. He had a goal after all, and this was going to help him achieve it. He wouldn’t freeze up and disappoint them now.

Farewell wishes and goodbye hugs were quickly exchanged, then Logan and Remy got into the carriage and were off. Logan looked out the back window as they drove away from the bakery, out of town, and to the location of the Srednas Magic School.

“Mr Ainmosni-”

“Just Remy, kid.”

“Remy, where exactly is the school?”

“The school is, for now, the Srednas Manor. The Prince wants to have a proper school built, but this first class is only the test run, so to speak.”

“Test run?”

“The council wants to be sure that a school would be a successful idea before the Prince can order a real one to be made.”

Logan nodded. “I suppose that’s why it’s not publicly known.”

“Yeah, getting ideas through the council is a pain, even for royalty. I’m surprised they let you obtain a learners license without too much fuss. Though you should be cautious about any interactions with Councillor Allen. He was not happy when he heard the Prince invited you to his school,” Remy chuckled.

“He wouldn’t really be able to do anything against me, would he?”

“With how you won the favour of his highness and Lady Silvia, not a chance. But you will need to be careful. Now that you’re practising magic, you will be interacting with nobility, and any mistakes made in their world can mean an end to your reputation and career.”

“I don’t know if I would do much socialising.”

“Kid, you are the first-ever wizard to come from a commonwealth household. Nobles are going to find a way to meet you and they’ll either see you as an opportunity or an opponent.”

“Opportunity?”

“You already caught the notice of the Crown Prince. They’ll want to take advantage of that. And at the same time, they might see that as a problem since you’re getting his attention over them.”

“I’ve never even met him.”

“They won’t care. They may even believe you have anyway.”

Logan frowned. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”

Remy nodded. “Yeah, but if you need anything then you can just ask.”

“Does social standing fall under your teaching duties?”

“Nope. But I don’t mind helping people, and honestly, I think that you have something… special. You’re forging a path for others who may want to learn magic themselves. I think that’s worth investing in.”

“So, this isn’t for anything like points with my dad?”

Remy laughed. “While that seems like a benefit, I truly didn’t think of it before you said something.”

Shortly after that conversation, the carriage came to the silver gates of the Srednas Estate. The driveway was paved with white stones and went all the way up to the large manor house which was built of brilliant dark wood and stone bricks. It looked to Logan like a small castle, with even a tower on the left side that stretched high above even the forest trees.

The carriage stopped just outside of the enormous front door, and Logan found himself staring up in awe as he followed Remy out.

“Well, I believe we are the last to arrive. Follow me to the classroom. The others should be waiting there for us.”

Logan followed Remy down the halls. When they finally arrived at their destination, Logan noted that there were seven small desks set in a sort of semi-circle. They were all facing one large desk with a big chalkboard behind it. As Remy had predicted, the other six students already occupied the room.

Two elves were sitting together by the two desks far left, talking about something animatedly to one another. They looked similar, with broad shoulders, long dark curly hair, and almond tanned skin. Their eyes however set them apart from one another, the one on the left having bright green eyes while the others were deep red.

Sitting on the desk of the red-eyed elf was a water sprite with a kind smile. He had a petit build, bright brown eyes and messy blonde hair with small variously coloured flowers braided in. His skin was a peachy hue apart from the blue-green splotches that identified them as being a sprite.

Standing by one of the large windows in the back of the room were two students. One a demi-wolf, the other a Dragonborn. The Dragonborn stood with an air of confidence and superiority. Paired with the scales that covered the right half of their face, they seemed quite intimidating. Their eyes were mismatched, the left one a normal brown while the right one was bright yellow with a black slitted pupil. Their blonde hair was nearly completely hidden by their ivy cap.

In comparison, their demi-human companion seemed rather timid or perhaps on edge, if their body language was anything to go by. Their tail hung low, slowly swinging side to side, and their wolf ears were focused forward, listening intently to the Dragonborn’s words, while their deep brown eyes glanced routinely around the room and out the window.

On the other side of the room, by a bookshelf full of large tomes, stood the last student. He was slender and pale, with black hair that faded into dark purple and hung slightly in his stormy grey eyes. He was leaning with his back against the shelves, eyes focused on the pages of the book in his hands, at least until Remy and Logan had entered. At that moment, the boy looked up through his fringe and focused his stormy eyes on Logan.

For a moment Logan felt frozen. Those eyes seemed to be reading him like a book. Searching his very soul for… something. But the feeling only lasted a moment as the boy looked back down at his book with a thoughtful frown. How peculiar.

“Okay, everyone, take a seat. Preferably at the provided chairs.” Remy said as he turned to take his own seat behind the large desk facing the semi-circle.

The sprite hopped off the elf’s desk and sat at the desk beside them. The Dragonborn took the next seat, and the demi-wolf sat beside them. The boy at the bookshelf returned his book to its place then sat at the desk on the far right. Leaving a seat for Logan between the boy and the demi-human, which he promptly took.

“Alright, class. I don’t expect you to become best friends or anything, but we are a small group so I hope you will at the very least get along with each other. For that, you’ll probably need to know each other, so we’re going to go around and introduce ourselves. I’ll start. I’m your teacher, Remy Ainmosni, my pronouns are he/him, and don’t worry this is not alcohol,” Remy said as he gestured to his flask. “Who wants to go next?”

“Oh, me!” The sprite said excitedly, jumping up. “Hi, I’m Patton Lilyhart, I use he/him, and I’m excited to get to know you all.”

Remy nodded. “I like the energy. Who wants to continue?”

“I shall.” The green-eyed elf declared, standing up from his seat with a confidant and regal air. “My name is Roman Elvar Goldheart Arthur Leafstone, and my pronouns are he/him. I am the eldest son of Lady Leafstone and heir of the Lyrecrest Ilse.”

“An impressive introduction, Roman, but next time you can just say your name is Roman Leafstone, we don’t need your full given name,” Remy commented, then gestured to the other elf. “Your turn.”

The red-eyed elf stood, though she held herself with a more casual air and wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulders. “Sup, I’m Remus, he/him or she/her, and this is my less-handsome twin.”

“You’re wrinkling my cape,” Roman complained, only to have Remus stick out her tongue at him.

Remy nodded with an amused smile. “Okay, snake eye, you’re up.”

“I am not a snake,” the not-half-snake hissed. “My name is Janus Embyrn, they/them, and I am a Dragonborn.”

“Good for you, snake eye. What about you, Wolfie?” Remy asked, completely ignoring the fiery rage burning in Janus’s eyes.

“My name is Willow, um, Redrunner.”

“Are you sure?” Remus asked. “Cause you don’t seem so confident about that.”

Willow shuffled nervously in their seat. “I- well… you see- uh-”

“Demi-humans don’t use last names,” Logan declared.

Willow nodded gratefully at him. “Yeah, but if needed then we use the name of our pack. I hail from the Redrunner pack and use she/they pronouns.”

Remy nodded then turned his attention to Logan and the stormy eyed boy. “Okay, which of you two wants to go?”

“I’m Virgil Tempest, he/him,” the boy declared.

They all waited a moment for him to say more, but he simply gestured for Logan to go. Logan made a mental note of that and then cleared his throat.

“My name is Logan Picani and I also use he/him pronouns.”

Patton gasped. “Oh my gosh, you’re the star guy! Right?”

“If you are referring to the spells I cast at the license test, then yes that is me.”

Roman huffed. “Anyone could have done that.”

“Well, if they knew the spells, then yes,” Logan agreed.

“He’s just jealous of the grand show you made of it,” Remus chuckled.

“I am not jealous.”

“Oh, then why are your eyes so green?”

“They’re naturally this colour, idiot.”

“Ah, but not in such a poisonous shade.”

“Let’s not fight,” Patton intervened. “You did very well on your presentation Roman.”

“Thank you, Pat, but I am still not and have never been jealous. Especially of a human.”

“Watch your words, elf,” Janus growled. “You wouldn’t want us to think you’re racist.”

Roman glared darkly at them but was interrupted by Remy before he could reply. “Never mind presentations, and races, and titles, none of those things matter here so there’s no need to discuss them. All of you were chosen with equal faith in your abilities as competent mages who could better the kingdom. I hope you can appreciate this opportunity and act civil with each other for the duration of your time here.”

Everyone was silent but Logan could practically see sparks of violent tension between Roman and Janus. They were going to be a problem for each other but with any luck, they wouldn’t pull the rest of the class down with them. Logan doubted he had that much luck, but he hoped anyway.

“Now, the rules are as follows,” Remy continued, ignoring the tense atmosphere. “Firstly, you are to stay on school grounds, unless permitted by myself to leave. Secondly, lessons will take place in the late morning and early afternoon, whatever you do outside of that time is up to you. So long as it doesn’t interfere with classes then I don’t care what you do. You’re old enough to watch yourselves, and I am not a babysitter, so I expect you to keep out of trouble for the most part. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner will be served in the dining hall, food is allowed outside of these hours, but not permitted inside of your rooms. Speaking of your rooms, you may decorate them as you like, but please remember to keep them moderately tidy as the cleaning staff will only come through once a week-”

“Once a week?”

“That’s what I said, Roman.”

“Do you expect our beds to go unmade for that long?”

Remy shrugged. “I would hope you could at least do that for yourselves. You’re not infants after all.”

Roman opened his mouth to protest further but was cut off by Janus. “What food is to be served, exactly?”

“Not sure. You can inquire with the chef for a menu and tell them of any dietary requirements too. If and when you interact with the estate staff, I expect you to be polite and respectful towards them. Any questions?”

“Can we explore the garden?” Patton asked.

Remy smiled. “Yes. The estate is yours to explore, apart from the tower.”

Remus’s eyes shone with curiosity. “What’s in the tower?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. If that’s all, then I think I ought to show you all to your rooms to get yourselves settled in.”

Remy got up and walked to the door, not waiting to see if anyone followed him. Roman rose in a dignified manner and went after him with Remus walking beside him. Patton practically skipped behind them and Janus followed with their own nonchalant air and Willow beside them. Virgil got up too and looked over to Logan for a split second, almost like he wanted to say something, but decided against it.

It was barely the beginning of his first day and Logan already felt that this was going to be a stressful time. He really had no idea how he was going to navigate interacting with all these people. He didn’t have to do that when he was independently studying before. By accepting this chance he was entering a whole new world.

And he was more than ready to conquer it.

[srsly-messed-up-fruitloop]

Supper’s Ready

Word Count: 2,033

Summary: A couple of weeks have passed since Danny’s accident with the portal. Fortunately, so far, he hasn’t experienced any symptoms at all, not even ghostly ones. Until one day, he begins throwing up ectoplasm.

Or, my take on Portal!Danny

Warning: Includes depictions of nausea and vomiting so...read at your own discretion

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Danny awoke with a groan. He clutched his stomach and squeezed his eyes together as a wave of nausea hit him. If he could, he would’ve laid there forever, curled up in a ball fighting the sick feeling in his stomach. But it kept getting worse, and worse, until his instincts drove him to blindly stumble to his bathroom. Kneeling before his toilet, he held his mouth open, wishing for whatever he ate earlier to just come out already. It felt like an eternity before his dinner left him. Panting, he laid his cheek against the toilet seat as he felt the nausea starting to subside.

He doesn’t remember the last time he threw up. Probably when he was a kid. It couldn’t have been mom’s cooking, right? He recalled the glass of milk he had before bed. It did taste a bit funky.

He stood up, sparing a glance at his dinner once again. He was just about to flush it away until something caught his eye. A single translucent drop of something that glowed brightly green. Jazz probably did have a point about not keeping the ecto-weenies in the fridge.

A couple of weeks have passed since Danny’s accident with the portal. Unfortunately, the portal remained unfunctional since the brief moment when he had activated it. At first, Jazz and his friends were extremely concerned for him. After all, he was practically electrocuted. But seeing that there were no lasting effects, over time they’ve let go of the incident. Things resumed back to normal, save for Jazz becoming a lot more protective of her little brother.

Danny flushed and rinsed the foul taste from his mouth. He made a mental note to throw out the milk in the morning as he climbed back into his sheets.

~

A few days later, Danny was sitting at his desk in his bedroom, struggling to understand why he kept getting this one math question wrong. He swears he’s following the same steps in the textbook example. He was just about to give up and move onto the next question when his mouth suddenly felt dry. No, not again. 

Ever since that night he puked, Danny’s stomach really wasn’t having it. More and more often the sick feeling would return, except nothing came out of it. He rested his head on his homework, waiting for the nausea to pass. At this point he just wanted whatever bad food, stomach bug, or whatever to leave him already. Maybe he should ask his parents to take him to the doctor.

At that thought, his gut uncomfortably lurched and he barely grabbed his wastebasket in time. It’s a shame those tater tots from the cafeteria had to go to waste. Just when he thought he was finished, he felt a painful jolt in his abdomen and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt something, with an almost slimy-like texture pour out. The sensation of it running up his throat made him feel even sicker than he was.

He took a moment to breathe before opening his eyes again. He almost dropped the bin at what he saw. It was the same glowing green substance he saw that other night. Except this time, it took up three quarters of his wastebasket! He couldn’t even see his lunch from earlier.

Slightly panicked now, he quickly scrambled up from his desk chair to get rid of it. If Jazz saw him now, she’d never let him hear the end of it. 

After flushing it away, he turned to the sink to clean himself up. But, the sight of himself in the mirror made him freeze.

He saw that green fluid, staining his white shirt as it steadily dripped from his chin. He almost gagged when he still felt it present in his mouth. But what truly frightened him was his now green irises, glowing brightly in the same intensity as the fluid. 

What was wrong with him?

~

Ectoplasm. That’s what was inside him.

Over dinner, his dad was excitedly explaining how he had extracted the substance from a ghost. His mom joined in, explaining its scientific properties. And while Jazz expressed her disgust at bringing something like that to the dinner table, the whole conversation was lost to Danny’s ears. All he saw was the small vial his dad was showing off, containing the same substance he had been heaving out daily in the last week.

~

Danny was in the middle of an English test when he felt it. It wasn’t all that painful anymore, and he’s gotten used to holding it down just long enough until he could get to a washroom. Still, it always was very uncomfortable. And inconvenient, especially at times like now. He raised up his hand and cringed as Lancer stared at him suspiciously.

“Yes, Mr. Fenton?”

“Can I—uh...go to the bathroom?”

Lancer sighed as he glanced at the clock. “Fine. Please hurry back though, you only have 20 minutes left for the test.”

“Thanks Mr. Lancer,” Danny mumbled as he got up from his seat. He fought the feeling of Wes glaring a hole in the back of his head, along with the weird stares from some of his other classmates. Sam and Tucker worriedly watched as their friend left the classroom.

Alone, in the bathroom, Danny used his hands to brace himself against both sides of the stall, as he crouched in front of the toilet, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He hated doing this at school.

He counted to three and then let go, expelling the seemingly endless supply of ectoplasm within him. Every time he did this, there was always that little nagging voice at the back of his head, telling him that he really should tell someone about this. His parents should know what to do, right? But, every time he attempts to do so, he just...he can’t go through with it. Hearing them rant about their pure hatred for ghosts and the inventions they’ve created just to torture them makes his stomach lurch for a whole other reason. He knows they love him...but...what if they try to hurt him?

As for Jazz and his friends, he honestly can’t bring himself to burden them more after the portal accident. After all this time, he still occasionally sees the guilt in Sam’s eyes. Besides, who’s to say this won’t go away on its own...right?

He wiped his chin with the back of his hand after he felt nothing else coming up. However, he was greatly mistaken. 

The next moment, sheer agony shot through his abdomen, causing him to lose balance and hit his back against the stall’s door. It never hurt this bad before!

His body went rigid when he felt a frightening chill freeze his insides. A burning green—almost yellow light was all that he could see as he was overwhelmed by the brutal sensation of his insides being ripped apart. His mouth was forced open by an invisible force as something else crept up his painfully inflamed throat. It wasn’t ectoplasm this time.

Panting heavily, all Danny could do was lay there against the door as the blinding light and pain gradually faded away. The first thing he saw after regaining his vision was a spectral tail disappearing into the ceiling.

~

“Good morning, this is Tiffany Snow reporting Amity Park’s latest breaking news. Recently, we have received several reports of ghost sightings. Witnesses have expressed that these ghosts have been trespassing their homes, destroying property, and terrorizing civillians. The Amity Police Depar…”

“Those no good specters!”

“Jack, honey, do you know what this means?”

“Of course Maddie, the town needs us!”

“But the sudden increase in ghost activity, it must mean something…”

“What are you sayin’ Mads?”

“Where would these ghosts be coming from? Natural portals don’t stay open long enough for any significant entities to escape the Ghost Zone. Unless...maybe something is causing them to stay open longer?”

“You might be onto something, gosh Mads you’re so clever! Well, better get right to sealing up those portals for good. Oh, I got the perfect idea for an invention!” Jack exclaimed as ran downstairs into the lab.

“Danny?”

Danny just realized he’d been holding his breath throughout his parents’ conversation. At the sound of his mom’s voice directed at him, he dropped his spoon. “Y-yea mom?” he stuttered as he anxiously gazed at her.

She was holding a silver-gray thermos with metallic green details. “Today, I’m packing your lunch in the Fenton thermos. We’d be horrible parents let you kids go to school defenseless. Just remember to point and push, okay?”

“Um, okay. Thanks mom,” Danny mumbled. 

She kissed his head before he could protest and said, “I’m going to help your father out. Have a great day at school sweetie.” 

After his mom disappeared downstairs into the lab, Danny morosely glanced at his half-eaten cereal. He’s probably not gonna keep it down anyways. Fenton thermos in hand, he grabbed his backpack and left to catch the school bus.

~

Danny could almost say he’s gotten used to being nauseous all the time. Now when he threw up, more often than not an actual ghost would come up. But now, the guilt from causing all the recent ghost activity grew with each passing day. Yet, no matter how much he’d tried stopping himself, all he did was make the pain even more unbearable. Something was seriously wrong with him.

One day, he recovered quickly enough to see an octopus-like ghost escape into the school’s hallways. As he exited the washroom, he saw the ghost hurling textbooks at students and scaring anyone that got near. 

This was all his fault. He winced as he saw poor Mikey get his glasses knocked off his face by his own math textbook. He had to do something. Wait. Danny reached into his bag, finding the now empty Fenton thermos.

“Just point and push, right?” he muttered to himself as he took aim at the ectopus. A light blue beam shot out the thermos, enveloping the ghost and pulling it inside. Danny blinked as he noticed the small display on the flask read 25% CAPACITY.

“Huh, that was easy.”

~

Using the Fenton thermos to capture the ghosts really helped ease some of his guilt. However, all too soon the thermos had hit its capacity and Danny had no idea what to do with it.

He’d secretly borrowed another one from his parents and already that one was full too. He needed to figure out something quick.

“Hey dad?”

“What’s up Danno?”

“Uh...how do you get rid of ghosts?”

“Son, I’m so glad to see you taking an interest in the family business! Me and your mom are still finding out a way to get rid of those spooks for good. For now, we’ve got the Fenton Ghost Weasel and the Fenton thermos to catch them.”

“But, what if you run out of space to keep them?”

Danny’s dad scratched his head in thought. “Never really thought much about that. I guess when the time comes, we just gotta send those suckers back where they came from. Maybe by then, we’ll find those portals that are causing us all this trouble.”

Back where they came from? 

By now, Danny knows that the accident with his parents’ portal had to have something to do with his...condition. And considering that all the ghosts are coming from inside him...maybe the portal did end up working after all. Except, not in the way he’d expected. He tried not to think too much about it. How an opening to an entirely different dimension was...inside him.

But, he had a more immediate problem to worry about. And as much as the solution grossed him out, he had no choice. 

Currently sat on his bed, Danny stared at the two full flasks in front of him. His dad’s words rang in his ears as he unscrewed the cap off one. His stomach turned uncomfortably as he spared a glance at its contents.

Bringing up the thermos to his lips, he squeezed his eyes shut to brace himself for what he was going to do next.

Here goes nothing.

[leylinefiction]

Call and Answer: Chapter 1

This is a sequel to No More Yesterdays.

Brooklyn

New York City

1943

Edith Erskine clings to the hand of the young German farmhand. New York City is loud, dark, and busy. A cold spring rain has soaked through her wool coat, dress, and puddles into her oversized shoes. She’s six years old, scared, and all she wants to see is her father. The German farm boy had promised her that he would take her to her father. They walk into one of the large buildings, their wet shoes squeaking on the black and white tile of the lobby. Her companion points to a wooden bench and she sits there obediently.

“Papa?”

The farm boy takes his soaking wet hat off his head and twists it in his hands, water dripping on the floor. “Dein Vater ist tot (Your father is dead).”

“Tot (dead)?”

“Ja (yes).”

Edith is too shocked to cry. Her father is dead. Her mother and brother are dead too. She jumps up from the bench and runs for the door. All she can think of is the camp, the tables, needles, and dead-eyed soldiers leaning over her. Instinct tells her to bolt so she does. Unfortunately the rain has made the tiles slick like ice and she falls a few feet from the door. The door opens and Edith watches as a pair of women’s heels walk over to where she’s laying. The shoes are polished so brightly, Edith can see her face in them.

“Who is this little darling?”

Edith looks up into the face of the most beautiful woman she has ever seen. Large brown eyes that remind her of her mother, especially the way they crinkle at the corner when she smiles.

“Das ist Edith (This is Edith),” the farm boy answers.

“Edith,” the woman says and lifts her easily into her arms. “Was für einen schönen Namen du hast (What a beautiful name you have).”

“Danke (Thank you).” Edith reaches out and pats the soft, dark curls of the new lady. “Ich mag deine haare (I like your hair).”

The woman laughs lightly. “You are just precious. Thank you so much for bringing her.” Still carrying Edith in her arms, the lady slips $500 to the farm boy. “You never saw us.”

Edith watches the farm boy from over the lady’s shoulder. He gives her a small wave and she returns it before she’s carried outside the building and back into the rain.

“Colonel!” the woman calls and soon a man dressed in a similar color and design of clothes comes up the stairs of the building with a large umbrella. The woman fusses with Edith’s coat. “Poor thing is soaked through.”

He holds the umbrella over all three of them until the woman and child are in the back of a dark car. Edith has never been in a vehicle like this and it fascinates her. The seats are leather, soft and worn. The rumble of the engine causes vibrations that make the back of her legs tingle. When the man gets in the back, he shakes out a large wool coat and wraps it around Edith. It smells spicy, smokey, and nothing like what she remembers of her father.

“Here,” the man pushes a silver container into her hands.

Edith takes the offered silver container and starts to take a sip. She hasn’t eaten or drank anything in almost two days and her stomach growls at the offered sustenance.  But the lady snatches the container out of Edith’s hands.

“Colonel! What are you thinking?”

“It’ll warm her up!”

“You can’t give a child whiskey!”

“I was raised on the stuff!”

“Oh, and you’ve turned out to be quite lovely. I have some soup and tea waiting back at the office,” she hands the flask back to the man. “Edith, sprechen sie Englisch (Do you speak English)?”

Edith shakes her head. She can understand bits and pieces of what is being said around her but to use the foreign words frightens her.

“Wir werden es zusammen ausarbeiten (We’ll work it out together). Ich heiße Peggy (My name is Peggy). Das ist Colonel Philips (This is Colonel Philips).”

Edith is starting to get warmer, she understood what soup was and knew that they were going to feed her. “Fraulein Peggy, ist mein Vater tot (Miss Peggy, is my father dead)?”

Peggy looks over at Philips but he is staring out the window. So she gathers Edith into her arms. “Ja, kleiner liebling (Yes, little darling).”

Edith wants to cry; she wants to see her father and is incredibly disappointed at the idea that she will not see him today. But it is the not being able to see him ever again that is too much for her to comprehend. So she sits in silence, between two strangers, wrapped in a coat that doesn’t smell like home, feeling the massive city of New York swallow her whole.

A few moments later, the tears come and Edith feels like they will never stop.

***

Upstate New York

2023

Edie watches the entire exchange that happens by the lake and breathes a sigh of relief when she sees Sam Wilson take the shield. So far, Steve has been correct in his predictions. She hears the faintest rustle of leaves behind her and smiles slightly. Damn, Steve was right on the money.

“Hello, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Hello, random person hiding behind a tree.”

Edie chuckles. “I’m Mr. Rogers’ health care worker. I feel like if I got any closer I would be stepping on a private moment. You know?”

He shifts his gaze back out the two men. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

Edie ignores the almost imperceptible hurt in Barnes’ words. “He talks about you alot, by the way.”

Barnes just nods and they stand in silence until Sam helps him stand and they start walking towards Barnes and her. “Take good care of him.”

“Of course,” she promises.

“He can be stubborn.”

“Never.”

She glances over at Barnes and sees a wistful smile break across his face before he retreats back to where the cars are parked. Sam stops a few feet from her and she falls into her role of caretaker and offers her arm to Steve.

“Sam Wilson,” he motions to her, “this is my caretaker, Elizabeth Hertzl.”

Edie knew he wasn’t going to use her real name but it still feels odd to hear him say it. She shakes Sam’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Mr. Rogers,” she turns to him, “You’ve had a big day today.”

“I have,” he agrees and Sam makes a reluctant departure.

Edie and Steve meander up the small hill to the clearing where the car is parked. Keeping up the schrade, Edie helps Steve into the passenger side of the car before getting into the driver's side. Once they were in the car with the windows closed, Edie spoke freely.

“Well?”

“He took the shield.”

“A success then?”

Steve reaches up to the side of his face, pressing buttons and disrupting the facial mask technology before removing it and the wig. “Yeah, a success.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

Steve shrugs and looks out the window of the car. “I hate, you know, lying to them.”

“So why did you do it?”

“I already told you.”

“Tell me again,” Edie pushes. She knows Steve Rogers, probably better than he knew himself. Lying to his friends, Bucky especially, is not a decision he made lightly. She hopes by having him reiterate his reasoning will help soothe his moral dilemma.

“It’s the only way that Sam will take on the shield and fill the role of the next Captain America. It’s the only way Bucky will work with him, help him. If they think I’m gone, truly gone, then all they have are their ties to me. Eventually, they’ll make it work. They have to.”

“I hope you’re right.”

He fiddles with the gray haired wig. “Me too.”

Edie pulls the car out onto the freeway and soon they’re lost in the sea of travellers. She gives Steve about thirty minutes of quietude before breaking the silence. “Fury has a new lead for us.”

“Oh yeah? Who is it this time?”

“Someone by the name of the Power Broker. They’re apparently running Madripoor right now.”

Steve pulls a face. “Madripoor. Not a nice place.”

“Oh come on,” Edie smiles over at him, “You can finally use that line to pick up a girl.”

“What line?”

“The ‘what’s a nice girl like you doing in a dump like this’ line.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Edie turns on the radio. “Just promise me you won’t use the one that some cowboy used on me in some backwater bar in Oklahoma once.”

“Which was what?”

“Darling,” Edie uses the thickest Oklahoman accent she can, “If I told you that you had a gorgeous body, would you hold it against me?”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Steve grimaces and laughs at the same time.

They share a laugh before the heavy silence descends on them once again. Edie watches him out of the corner of her eye. He’s still playing with the hair on the wig and his face is drawn in sorrowful lines. There’s not much she can do for him at the moment so she continues to drive to Fury’s safe house so they can gather their equipment for Madripoor.

[firjii]

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1206

Fandom: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion

Rating: General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Female Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Martin Septim Additional Tags: arocace relationship, MartinLives!AU, PTSD, Post-Canon Fix-It, Bosmer, Older Woman/Younger Man, tense switching

Summary: Alive but not entirely well some time after the canon events of Oblivion, Martin and the HoK have settled into a quiet retirement in an attempt to heal their various traumas and support each other in ways that few other people could. Written approximately in the style of some in-game documents rather than as one specific scene.

Plain text version under the cut...

The shadows come back easier than they can be banished, but Martin knows that. He’s seen it from the start.

She’d come to Kvatch so suddenly, so randomly, so accidentally. Even seasoned soldiers would have had difficulty understanding what had happened there. By all rights, she should have died: a wood elf with more experience in running away than fighting, a sporadic archer at best, a mage who could only be called a mage because she excelled at a single spell. And some would say she was getting on a bit, even by elven standards. But she knew a great deal about potions, so she’d survived, if only because she’d been weighed down with flasks and herb pouches when she’d gone through the gate.

He’d watched her struggle after that.

With nothing else to compare such an experience to in her life, she’d veered from shock to disbelief to cockiness and everything in between. Common people had looked on her after that with fear, wondering if she’d sided against them, with or without realizing it. She’d hated their suspicion, but nothing in the rumors was beyond what she’d wondered herself. Soldiers and battlemages and bards had stared on in admiration, curious to know the specifics of the tale. She’d hated their gazes but had only rarely squirmed in discomfort. She’d fully realized that if it had been someone else, she’d be among the adoring throngs.

She’d often referred to it as a dream. Martin had lost count of how many times he’d seen the disconnect in her: wanting to be prepared, but learning in secret, furtively, often alone, all because she’d also been in denial about anything like it ever happening again. The impossible couldn’t happen twice – could it?

Martin barely made it out alive in the end – the Hero isn’t the only one who has nightmares.

But she knows this. She never once denies him his time when his eyes become gloomy and dour because a daydream has turned into a flashback or a nightmare. When he wakes in the night screaming, she simply wraps another blanket around him and holds his hand until he falls asleep again. She does it because it is no more or less than what he would do. She does it because it’s all that can be done sometimes.

More than occasionally, their nightmares synchronize on the same night. When it happens, they draw arms around each other, if only to remind each other that they’re not alone in the darkness. They’re not in another realm or another plane anymore. They’re in Mundus, on Nirn, in Cyrodiil, in the little cottage that Martin so carefully chose for them.

On those nights, they seldom fall back asleep easily. Instead they listen for the signs that they’re home: the cattle and goats murmuring amongst themselves the next valley over, the odd bark from a dog, the chickens in the backyard that Martin so painstakingly picked out for them. She’d often remarked that pets were somewhat unusual in Valenwood but that it was the first fact about human culture she’d heartily embraced. He’d thought against getting a dog – they were too much like wolves. Cats and several other small creatures made her nervous. But she was fond of birds. Chickens are just enough to keep her mind busy without being overwhelming, and she enjoys learning all the uses for eggs in Cyrodiilic cookery.

She won’t go outside any more than she needs to. Cities make her panic. Traveling, no matter how gradual and quiet, has made her faint – more than once. The sight of open fields and hills usually makes her sick.

But after awhile, she lets Martin leave for short intervals – an hour or two to speak with a farmer, an afternoon to retrieve herbs and mushrooms, a half day in a town or city. She gladly listens to his stories. He makes a point of only telling her interesting or funny or happy things. There’s no need to mention that the Imperial City is still scrambling a bit to keep things together. There’s no need to tell her that harrowing near-misses of other sorts still happen throughout Cyrodiil.

Instead, he fills her mind with jolly jokes he overheard during lunch. He remarks on the unusual wares he’s starting to see in the shops – at times a sign of reestablished trade with the far corners of the province, at others merely proof of the chaos and banditry that comes with decimated villages and ruined estates.

He also brings back a few more books every time. She appreciates all of them, from history accounts to recent political commentaries to poetry and novels. She claims to be illiterate, but he’s seen her methodically examining books often enough that he knows she simply prefers it when he narrates them for her.

She smiles, and for awhile – maybe only a moment sometimes – her shoulders aren’t quite so hunched forward, her hands don’t quite fidget about so much, her face isn’t as sickly. Her eyes dance when he comes to an exciting part in a story. She rarely speaks, but she always listens. In time, she even prompts him to re-read certain volumes.

And he always smiles to see it.

They are strangely bound together now: more than comrades, less than lovers – not that he minds – and always, always a careful balance as subtle as one strand of a spiderweb yet as steadfast as the moon cycle. Few people understand it, and even fewer can see that it will be their way of life until they die. Martin knows enough to admit that it is as unavoidable as it is fitting. And why should he want to avoid it? Why would either of them want to avoid it?

Gradually, he finds her sneaking moments at twilight for fresh, cool, sometimes rain-tinged night winds. Sometimes she doesn’t entirely cross the threshold of their home – sometimes she only opens a window – but her face feels the moonlight and open air.

And he always smiles to see it.

She cares for him as deeply as he cares for her. She’s even shown glimmers of craving him. Such it was from their first days traveling together after Kvatch. Yet she still fears too much. She still crumbles too often. She usually shudders if she is embraced, even if the attention only comes from a mild little tot seeking to admire the hero who has become the focus of so many stories.

In the ten years they have known each other, they have only shared a kiss thrice. He is content to let her lead, and if she never asks for more beyond that, she will still be perfect in his eyes.

But in time, she holds his hands when he offers them, the simple reminder of another’s presence enough to scatter the storm clouds in her eyes for awhile.

And in time, she asks him to brace her when the storm clouds consume her a little too much. Quiet times indeed, entire hours spent staring at the hearth, her face ever a melding of heaviness and exhaustion and desperate fear – but softened at the reminder that he can and happily will share her load.

And he always smiles to see it.

[charitysbabes]

Prompt 1

Johnny calls Charity ‘mummy’ for the first time. Prompted by @fmckeown

Charity huffs and wraps her arms around herself with a dramatic shiver; her breath curls in front of her face. She sighs again and nudges Vanessa with her elbow. “Remind me again why we ever had kids?”

She gets a light smack in return. “Think how they must feel. Johnny’s not even got his coat on.”

“Yeah but he’s running around, isn’t he?”

“Then why don’t you go for a jog over there and leave me in peace?”

Scowling, Charity turns back to the game. Well, less of a game and more of a gaggle of hyped up tots charging around a field, but her fiancee insists they come to every one. Next time, she’s bringing a hip flask. 

There’s a rising cheer from behind her and she notices that Johnny actually has the ball and he’s kicking it in the vague direction of the goalposts. It’s hard to tell if he actually shoots or just trips over the ball, but either way it flies into the net. Johnny stands there, grinning at all the cheers and stumbles up to her and Vanessa, even though he’s still in the middle of the game. “I got a point!” 

Vanessa is the first to swoop down and hug him, beaming as if he’s just won the world cup for England. “It was the best goal I’ve ever seen.” 

Charity smiles a little, despite the cold, as Johnny turns to her. “Did you see, Mummy?” She blinks at him, sure he must still be talking to Vanessa, but they’re both watching her with the same crinkle at the corners of their eyes. 

“Course I did, Johnnybobs. Right little David Beckham you are.” She bends down to tickle him, but he wriggles away and bolts back to the pitch, giggling. 

Charity finds Vanessa’s gloved hand, feeling an instant warmth seep through her own bare fingers. Maybe she’ll even come back without the hip flask.

[wandering-lounge]

An idea I thought up while reading this:

“Honestly Angel, whos this guy again? you trusting strangers cause they give you dick?” Cherri shot out.   Black dust nestled in the cracks of the  grey, dilapidated, so called, “sidewalk”. Cherri Almost rolled an ankle earlier from nearly a whole segment was removed.from what must have been a crash. The sky of dead crimson radiated red light on the two.

“Dont worry bout it shuga tits!” Angel said calmly. “I’ve known this guy for a while.” Angel reached into his fluffy ‘breasts’ grinning pulling out a flask sipping it to warm him up for the afternoon. “Besides, he asked me about you for a while. and i thought, ‘ey! we should all hangout!’ good times n all! I think you might like him.”

“So this was all your idea?” Cherri said. “oh thats right! Hes that dude with the weird-ass bar right?”

“you know it! I got there form time to time. we talk all the time.-”

“amongst other things” Cherri interjected with a shrewd expression.

Angel giggled, “we shared a lot over the past.. uh year? two years?”

“Oh? Sharing? What do you know about him?” Cherri questioned with a grin. Grinning in a way as if she knew. To which Angel was sure she knew.

Angel, whore of hell, gettn’ steady with a questionable deadbeat that only he, and Cherri know about. Seems legit.

“Your tune will change like a live tuna fish dropped into a fryer as soon as you see his diggs. My treat”

“since when do you treat me?” Cherri wasnt complaining, getting paid drinks is always nice, weather its by charming wiles, or gunpoint. it was all the same. But Angel? this felt very different for her. 

“so youre like, his only customer right?” Cherri continued.

“what? no? I don’t think so?”angel looked uncertain.”I mean he says he visits all sorts of shit. hes seen tons of people and he even told me that some people have come over to his bar in this hell. He was braggin one day that he once got That shitty news ancha’-” Angel’s brow was furrowed as he snapped his fingers. “you know. that uh, slutty bitch. uh.. Cathy?” 

“Katy? The news anchor Katie killjoy?”

“Yep! thats her”

“that sounds like bullshit.” Cherri laughed smiling even more. despite this guys dubious background, Cherri could see something in his eyes. Her worry was replaced by a warm feeling. Something’s different about this guy. Something thats making Angel happy.

Shattered glass and splintered wood framed an immaculate door. completely out of place on the front of this one store front. 

Cherri looked over to Angel, her brow was curled in a confused manor. She looked back to the front door, The windows were shot out, and she could see inside of the shop, holding all matter of messes, rocks, and garbage. but as she looked over tot he door. It had stained glass resembling an eye on the front. light poured out of the window and glowed from the seams in the door.

“Uh... This is the place?” If Cherri was uncertain before, she definitely felt it now.

“o-yeah.” Angel exclaimed on his cheerful bouncing steps to the door. He knocks gingerly and rhythmically. He bounces in place as hands run thourgh his hair and fluffed his bust. 

A dark form shifts behind the lightened door. Cherri thought the stained glass shifts for a moment. But then the door swings wide open. before she could see anybody a warm voice rings out.

“Angel! Whats up!?”

Cherri watched as the door slowly opened inward as her eye caught a simple looking blue eyed, pink demon smile looking up towards Angel. Angel throws himself to the guy.He gives him a stroke of his beard. While giving his ass an audible spank in the process.

“EY! fucker!” He laughs to Angel’s shenanigans..He looks over to Cherri. “Oh! you must be Cherri! come on in!” Peeling Angel off of him in the process.

Cherri walks into the door only to look inside and not find the piles of rocks and shattered glass she was expecting. The walls were a warm dark brown with red lined seats and a long bar standing in the middle of the room as she entered in. Wooden staris carved to flow so well its as if water itself sculpted it with his tender care. She could see the upstairs have rooms and more booths. Her eye shot back down and saw an entertainment area behind the bar, as well as a staircase downstairs behind the bar with a quaint little sign, ‘employees only.’ the sign gave off a subtle glow of power. there were hanging lamps on every corner. and one above each booth. each giving off a dim orange light. 

“What the fuck?!?”

Cheri shot back to Angel dust to have all six arms pointed with guns. A silhouette of a man sat at the end of the bar only to echo back.

“By what trickery is thissss?!”

Sir Pentious shot up hood extended pulling a ray gun out in response. 

“what the hell is HE, doing here?” Angel growled.

The demon got between them first before walking over to angel. His tone became tense and clear. “put the guns away, gentlemen” He looked over to Angel. “In order to be Served here, theres only a few set of rules you must follow. ‘No fighting, no weapons, no service.’” He looks over back to sir Pentious. “that goes for EVERYBODY, regardless of stature or, “feuds” or whatever you may have.

Angel’s eyes looked back to the pink demon. after murmuring to himself and uttering words under his breath. Angel, actually put his guns away. ‘what the fuck?’ Cherri thought. ‘he fuckin put his guns away! he actually fuckin did it.’ Cherri looked on this fuckin broadway show in disbelief.

“Cherri, bombs too please” Pink boy said calmly. 

She did. Sir Pentious on the other hand held his gun out with conviction. 

“HA! I still have mine” he giggled, 

A shadowy shape erupted out of the floor and swiped over the snakes hands.

His hands were stripped naked. The pink demon twirled around the ray gun like a toy in his fingers. “no guns. thank you” He smiled.

Sir Pentious huffed, “I don’t need the company of such. LOAATTHHHSOME Heathens!” he slinked off of his seat and wiggled over to the door. 

“alright then.” Angel smirked, “the bar is ours then.”

Sir pentious scoffed, “Ill be back!” he shouted outside of the door. 

the pink demon tossed back the raygun through the door. “have a good night Penny! Please come again.” not a trace of sarcasm was felt in the demons statement.

the door closed on sir pentious. He had his raygun back! he can storm the bar with ease and with surprise! He sprang back tot he door, gun in hand. swung it open and...

the inside was covered in rocks, glass, and garbage. it was a small room with nothing to offer, and no souls to be found.

Angel laughed out loud. “I cant believe you service that guy with your goods.”

The demon laughed, “well, he pays... unlike some demons ‘round here.” He smirked sarcastically eyeing up Angel.

Angel giggled, pulling him in close, “im paying off my tab.... Eventually” Angel traced his lips with his finger

Cherri hadn't moved since she entered. what the fuck was this place, what the fuck is this bar doing inside of a small shit shack in satans backyard? What the fuck?

the pink demon walks over to Cherri placing a hand between them. “yo, my names Arty. good to meet you Cherri.” 

She grabbed his hand and shook it. It wasnt hard grip that her hand was met with. it was soft and warm. she looked him up and down. ‘yeah he is kind of cute’ Cherri thought to herself. 

“So!” Angel leaned onto arty’s head. “That stinky snake is out of our business finally. Fours a crowd anyways. How about we start this night off with some of those, potions of yours?” A grin stretches wide on angels face.

Arty’s face flushes a little. I do happen to have some new ones for you...