#just one more sip

[faofinn]

Day 12 - "Just One More Sip"

@mediwhumpmay

Kieran had, all things considered, settled in well at secondary school. Sure, he had Alfie, who helped no means to an end, but they both had their own struggles the other couldn’t understand. 

Tai helped, able to break everything down and explain their diabetes in a way he understood. He hated that his son had diabetes, but he was glad that he could help.

It had been a long day at school, maths first thing followed by history and english and then double PE. Ever the worrier, Kieran was already convinced he was coming down with something, but it was football so he didn't want to sit out. He adjusted his insulin, grabbed some dextrose tablets and headed out of the changing room with Alfie by his side. 

They had fun, still off the age where they enjoyed PE and causing chaos. The class were in high spirits as they headed back in to get changed. The twins had verb getting slightly more independence too, much to the fraying of Harrison's nerves. They were allowed to walk to the carpark at the end of the street by themselves, but the pair would be picked up by someone from there. 

Kieran was lagging as they left school, a headache starting to brew. He kept chatting away to Alfie though, figuring he probably just needed a drink when they got home. There was no point worrying his brother when their dads were just around the corner. 

"Kieran?" Alfie tried for the third time. "Kieran!"

He turned to him, snapping. "What?!"

Alfie pulled a face. "Don't yell at me. You've just stopped walking and you're ignoring me. Are you alright?"

"Just don't want to talk to your stupid face." He spat, arms folded with no intention to move. 

"Kieran? What have I done? You don't look too great. Where's your phone?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because you're my brother, idiot." He muttered, grabbing Kieran's phone from him and swiping his arm. 

"Hey! Give it back."

"No. Where's your glucose tablets? You had them in PE."

Kieran frowned. He'd left them in his pe kit, and the kit was in his locker. "School."

"Idiot. Do you have any more?"

"How am I supposed to know?" He spat.

"Because it's your bag!" Alfie replied, exasperated. He knew it wasn't his brother, that the hypo was messing with his head, but it always hurt when he spoke to him like that.

"Here, drink this." Alfie shoved a can of pop in his face, rummaging through his own bag - he always kept spares somewhere.

"I'm not thirsty."

"I don't care. Drink it." Alfie snapped, authority in his tone. 

Kieran was slightly taken aback, and did as he was told. He screwed his face up at the taste, moving to put it down. "I'm not drinking it. I don't like it." 

"Kieran, please. You're having a hypo. Just keep drinking it, just one more sip, yeah?"

He grumbled, tears suddenly overwhelming him. He felt rubbish anyway and now Alfie was yelling at him and making him drink things he didn't want to and it just wasn't fair. Kieran shoved his bag away, not caring as the contents spilled across the pavement. 

"Kieran!" Alfie hissed. "Just drink your drink, it'll make you feel better. I need to call dad too, he'll be able to help."

With one hand calling their dad, the other continued to rummage through his bag. He gave a triumphant noise as he grabbed his tablets, shoving several into Kieran's hand. "Chew these."

They seemed better than the drink, so he did as he was told, the wall propping him up more than he was sitting. "Fine."

"Thank you. Keep chewing them and then swallow, yeah? They'll make you feel better." Alfie continued muttering, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to comfort. "Let me check your levels again, hopefully they'll be better."

As he swiped, the phone connected, and relief rushed through him. "Dad." He breathed. "Kieran's having a hypo. I need your help."

Tai had been waiting for the boys, on an early finish at work. When he saw Alfie calling, he assumed it was just to say they’d been caught up or forgotten something and they’d be there soon. He didn’t even get a chance to speak before his son did, and frowned. 

“Okay, where are you?”

"By the shops." 

“I’ll be a minute, yeah? Have you got some sugar into him?” Tai asked, already getting out of the car. 

"I'm trying!"

“It’s okay, you’re doing great.” He said, tucking his phone under his ear as he grabbed his stuff from the glovebox and headed in their direction. “I’m coming, just hold on a minute, yeah?”

"Okay." Alfie turned abxk to Kieran. "Come on, have another tablet, another drink."

Kieran groaned and swiped at Alfie's hands. "I don't feel well."

"Yeah, cause you're having a hypo. This will make you feel better, honest. Please, just one more sip?"

Kieran let himself rest against Alfie, absolutely exhausted. He did as he was asked, though, chewing on another dextrose tablet as he drank. "What am I at?"

"You were 2.8 the second time."

"That's low."

"It was lower. Drink." He encouraged, praying for his dad to hurry up. "You need to finish it all."

Kieran grumbled at his brother. “Can’t you drink it if you’re so obsessed with it?”

"No, I'm not having the hypo. Have another tablet."

He huffed, rolling his eyes, but sipped his drink and obediently reached for another tablet. 

Tai arrived after a few moments, crouching next to his sons. “I’m here.”

"He was 2.2 and he's 3 now but he's all grumpy still."

“That’s good, it’s going in the right direction.” Tai told him. 

"We were playing football and he didn't eat his biscuits at lunch."

“Well, that was daft, wasn’t it?” Tai said gently. “We all make mistakes.”

"Alfie won't stop pestering me." He grumbled. "And he stabbed me? I have my arm thingy for a reason."

“Oh my god, did he?” Tai couldn’t help but tease. “That was mean.”

"I had to!" Alfie protested, suddenly doubting himself. "Because the arm sensor is delayed and he might have been even lower. Right?"

Tai turned to him. “It’s okay, you’re right. You did the right thing.”

"Is he gonna be okay?"

“Of course he is, his sugars are coming up. You did good.”

"I was worried." He whispered to his dad, trying to keep Kieran from hearing it.

“You did great, kid. Don’t worry.” Tai told him quietly, but turned his attention back to Kieran. “I’m gonna need to stab you again in a bit, I’m sorry.”

"You're kidding me."

“I wish I was. I don’t like it much either, but we need to make sure.”

"I feel rubbish."

"Yeah, because you're an idiot." Alfie nudged him. 

"You're the idiot." He replied with a grin.

“You sound better.” Tai joked. “Can you have some more drink for me?”

"Can we buy better pop? I really don't like this one."

“What’s wrong with it?” Tai asked him. “I’ve got some orange juice?”

"Tastes bad."

“Here, try the orange juice.” He offered it to him. 

"Mm, okay."

“Are you starting to feel better?”

"My head is pounding." He admitted. 

“Not surprised. We’ll get you home soon.”

"Am I gonna have to stop PE?"

“No, you’re just going to have to be careful.”

"I didn't mean to."

"Accidents happen."Tai said softly. "I still have them."

"But you're old." Kieran frowned, before blushing. "Not like that!"

"I see how it is." He laughed.  

“I know.”

After a few minutes, letting Kieran sip at the orange juice, Tai squeezed his leg. “Need to check again, and then we’ll get home, alright?”

"Okay. I feel better now, though." He said, offering his hand as the other reached to squeeze Alfie's. 

“Good, that’s good. It’s gonna be a bit of a stab.”

"I know." He sighed heavily, overly dramatic as his dad took the sample. 

“Sorry, I know it sucks.” Tai said, watching the machine. It had come up more now, to a nicer level, and he grinned. “Much better.”

Alfie breathed a sigh of relief from beside them, passing Kieran his phone too. Kieran grinned back. "What is it?"

“Nearly 4, now.”

"So I can stop drinking?"He asked hopefully. 

Alfie shook his head. "You gotta finish it, right dad?"

“He’s right. Finish it please.”

"Okay." He dragged it out, quickly downing the rest of it. "Finished."

“Thank you.” Tai said. “Where’s your stuff?”

"He kicked it over the road." Alfie admitted. "I got most of it back, here."

Tai shook his head. “Of course. Give it here, I’ll carry it.”

"Thanks, dad." Alfie murmured. 

“It’s okay. You’ve got plenty to carry, I’ve got my hands free.”

"Alfie?" Kieran asked quietly. 

“Yeah?” Alfie asked, his attention on his brother. 

"Thank you." He said softly. "Means a lot you were there."

“I’m always gonna be there, idiot. I’m your brother.”

[muteddreamssilentscreams]

The sweetest poison is the hardest to resist

[petite-phthora]

Dp x Dc prompt #4

After discovering weird energy readings coming from the Pit located underneath Gotham, Batman decides to check it out.

Arriving at the scene with Robin, the first thing they notice is not any escaped Arkham rogue or Assassin from the League like they had been expecting.

No, instead, next to the pit sits a random exhausted-looking guy. Next to him are studying materials which he seems to be working on, and he’s also holding a straw that’s dipped straight into the Pit, occasionally taking a sip.

[icewindandboringhorror]

On average, what is the total MONTHLY amount that you spend on dining out*?

*(This doesn't only count going out to restaurants, but also stuff like picking up fast food to bring home, getting a coffee on the way to work, getting a premade sandwich from a grocery store deli during lunch, buying a quick snack from a convenience store or food cart whilst walking somewhere, ordering a pizza or any other food to be delivered to your home, etc.)

*(If you often dine out in groups/as a household: calculate and divide the costs so that you get a Per Person average. This is for YOU individually, NOT the total household/group costs)

(I'm sure polls similar to this have been made before (very common topic), I just haven't personally seen one that I can remember, so, I was curious to do my own! I was discussing this with a group of people today and it was very interesting to see how widely the number varied between individuals. :0c )

(Reblog for bigger sample size if you can, and feel free to explain your answer in tags if there's anything extra to add!)

[toxiccaves]

still on that robot kick

[ingravinoveritas]

So, in honor of David hosting the BAFTAs this year, The Guardian is soliciting questions for him to answer, and I just needed to share a selection of them...

(Sharing this last one only because the secondhand embarrassment is so strong, and why would you even ask David this. Also agreeing with someone else who said this question is so clearly made for Michael Sheen...)

[ef-1]

🍷<3

[sadisthetic]

my only critique of hi fi rush is that there shouldve been blood. and sure, maybe it wouldve been totally tonally incongruous, but consider this: i want BLOOD.

[skeletoninthemelonland]

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EPISODE 2 AND 3 HAVE BEEN SOOOO FUN im already so emotionally attached to each of these characters.. if anything bad ever happens to any of them im killing everyone and then everyone.

[beardedmrbean]

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

mmm sagau brainrot you and Foul Legacy finally finding somewhere quiet to settle down, somewhere away from the rest of the world, away from the people who call you an imposter. the house is small, but it's comfortable and safe, almost as safe as when Childe holds you in his claws, and you couldn't be more grateful for both him and the house. it takes a while to get acclimated to having a place of your own after hiding in caves and abandoned buildings with Foul Legacy. for a long time you flinch whenever you hear an odd sound, something other than Childe's footsteps or gentle clicks and croons, and sometimes your ears trick you into hearing others, other false people who send you running for the comfort of Foul Legacy's arms. he's with you the entire time, cradling your broken body, keeping watch over your injuries, curling around you when you wake from a violent nightmare, all while letting out sweet purrs and trills. Childe helps you recover, helps you heal from the rest of the non-beliving world's crimes, because the Abyss never forgets the aura of the Creator. slowly, you brighten and begin to live again. your body still hurts, but it's muted, quiet in comparison to before, and you get to see Childe crooning over the scars that litter your skin, a dull gold from your oddly-colored blood. you begin to relish being awake and spending time with him, as you walking into the room always elicits a symphony of happy chirps from Foul Legacy. and for Childe, his Abyssal side no longer aches- instead, it's calming, settling on his shoulders like a warm blanket, and it just feels right. your favorite time is the early hours of morning, when sunlight peaks through the window and you're just waking up, because you get to bear witness to a peacefully sleeping Foul Legacy. if you shift even the slightest, he murmurs and drapes an arm over your torse, only waking when you trace your fingers over his face and horns. with a drowsy yawn, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, urging you to fall back asleep beside him. one day you wake up cold. with a shiver you pull the covers closer to your body with little effect, reaching to tuck yourself closer to Foul Legacy- only to find an empty space. you jolt awake, flinging yourself upright as you look around your old room in the real world, just the way you left it and without a comforting Abyss moth. was it just a dream- no, it couldn't be- the scars still cross over your hands and legs, body aching more than it has in weeks. you curl your fingers over each other, breathing shakily with oncoming panic- you're home- you'll never see Childe again- you'll never be held by Foul Legacy again- the game is real, it shines on your computer- what do you do what do you do what do you do- in Teyvat, Childe screams and weeps over the loss of his god's comforting aura and the weight of the world's sins on your shoulders.

[mrsoharaa]

staying past closing time at your favorite local bar with Suguru, your closest best friend, whom you so coincidentally, have an immense crush on. you guys haven't seen much of each other since after college, so you both decide to catch up at your favorite bar down your street. you know the barkeep well and he lets you stay late (because he's secretly rooting for you both to finally get together!).

[icewindandboringhorror]

What would you choose? :0c

(note: original image is from HERE (link) - but I edited it to add a wider variety of options.. also added $3 extra to the total, even though I know that makes it more uneven lol, I thought if you're adding 10 whole extra items, the money to spend should at least be increased slightly, if that makes sense..)

[abyssalhuntersnerd]

Corset Shark...

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

6. “Not to be dramatic, but I’m back from the dead. Hope y’all missed me.” With Virgil and Remus?

Title: On a Stormy Sea of Emotion

Word-Count: 1.7k

Summary:

"Not to be dramatic, but I'm back from the dead. Surprise!" Remus shoots a pair of finger guns, droplets of blood spraying out from his finger tips, "Hope y'all missed me."

The cloaked figure, the target of his finger guns, does not move. Their facemask, elegantly carved to mimic a raven, stares Remus down apathetically.

Remus laughs, clasping his hands behind his neck as he leans against a building that makes up the alleyway of their standoff, "C'mon, old man. I clawed myself out of the grave and this is how you treat your 'beloved son, departed from the earth too soon?'"

OR: a Superhero AU featuring Jason Todd coded-Remus.

Pairing: parental dukexity

Warnings: Superhero AU, Death mentions, blood mention, vomit mention, implied self harm, pstd flashback, morally grey characters, angst with ambiguous ending

Thank you for the prompt! This infected my brain all last night and today, hope you enjoy <3

-

Killing isn't that hard of an action, really. There is a million ways to kill someone. Guns, knives, poison or the way Remus liked it--using your bare hands. It wasn't always the most effective, but when your target knocks your knife out of your hands--well, then you gotta go for the jugular.

Remus hums as he picks up his knife, examining it. The blood dripping from its blade landed on his gloves, coating it with a metallic stench. One time as a kid, he received a paper cut and out of curiosity, he stuck his finger inside his mouth to taste his own blood.

It just had a copper tangy taste, not very appetizing. But well, he's never tried someone else's blood, what if it had a different taste? Would a greedy drug lord's blood taste too greasy? Tainted by their lack of remorse and regard for the suffering and lives destroyed in their avaricious pursuit of wealth?

He is almost halfway to enacting on such an impulse, when something shifts behind him. He turns around swiftly, his knife meeting nothing but air. But there is something there, or rather someone.

Remus cackles, his eyes darting around his surroundings. There, in the shadows of the nearby dumpster. He lowers his knife, putting it away for now.

His heart clangs loudly against his ribcage as his ears began to clamor with a loud ringing noise. This moment has always been inevitable since the second he decided to remain in this hellish city.

Remus is many things, but he is not a fool nor is he a coward. He is exhilarated this moment has come at last. Not terrified.

"Hello daddy dearest," He calls out, "it's been a while."

His words are enough to draw out the cloaked figure from out of the shadows.

"Not to be dramatic, but I'm back from the dead. Surprise!" Remus shoots a pair of finger guns, droplets of blood spraying out from his finger tips, "Hope y'all missed me."

The cloaked figure, the target of his finger guns, does not move. Their facemask, elegantly carved to mimic a raven, stares Remus down apathetically.

Remus laughs, clasping his hands behind his neck as he leans against a building that makes up the alleyway of their standoff, "C'mon, old man. I clawed myself out of the grave and this is how you treat your 'beloved son, departed from the earth too soon?'"

He already knows the truth; maybe there was a time this man had regarded him as a beloved son. Back when Remus had been a quiet, subdued child, perfectly manageable and obedient. But that time had long passed.

"I know I probably should've stayed dead but you know me! I'm not great at following rules."

Virgil Storm, or in this case, "The Raven" still doesn't do anything. It is a little unnerving, actually. Remus had expected there to be harsh words thrown his way, or perhaps even be pinned into a chokehold by this point in the interaction.

The Raven doesn't kill. During his first bout at the whole being alive thing, that been a contentious point between the two. Yet, would an abomination like Remus count as a living being?

"And," Remus says abruptly, shifting his weight against the wall, "you can't kill me. You can try, but like. It won't work. I jumped off like a twenty story building--went splat! Like a bug, it was really messy, but I didn't die. Um, you can take a DNA sample to prove it's me--"

"Remus?" The Raven speaks at last, his voice garbled and gravelly from the voice modifier of the mask.

"Yeah, it's me. I mean, we both know Prince Boring doesn't have the guts to pull off a prank like this," Remus smirks, "I'm sure he's happy that I haven't been around to play screamo when I have the aux or fill his backpack with severed Barbie doll heads."

The Raven's cloaked figure starts staggering towards him. Remus moves to stand upright once more, his body tensing. He can take the punch, it'll hurt but it won't leave any bruises. Remus has done enough experimenting to know he can't be physically harmed anymore. At least not permanently in any way that matters.

But rather a punch thrown his way, the Raven's arms seize hold of him. Not around his neck, but around his body, as the Raven leans around him, his cloak wrapping around Remus like a blanket. He is...hugging Remus? What the fuck?

A cold pricking sensation hits Remus, spreading out through every inch of his body. But he does not move to resist the Raven's embrace.

"I'm sorry," His adoptive father murmurs, "I made so many mistakes, I was afraid but I shouldn't have allowed my fear to control me in the way that I did--"

"Aren't you paranoid?" Remus whispers, "What if I'm not actually Remus? What if I'm just a shapeshifter pretending to be him? Or--or something else?"

"But I know you're you. Do you really think I wouldn't have investigated the assumed grave robbery of my son's corpse?" The Raven counters, "I already have a DNA sample I collected from your confrontation with the Dragon Witch analyzed."

Of course, of course Virgil already had a DNA sample. To any sane person, this might've been a horrifying realization. But for Remus, who spent ten years under the man's roof, this was perfectly normal behavior of a man obsessive enough to run around as a nonpowered cloaked vigilante.

"Remus, you have every reason to hate me or even Roman," The voice modifier pitched upwards in an odd high tone, "but would you'd be willing to come home for at least Janus's sake?"

Remus forgets how to breathe for a moment. There are many reasons why he hasn't sought out his family. He isn't sure if he is willing to accept Virgil's apology, much less risk seeing Roman's face again. But Janus is different. He has always understood Remus in the ways the others never did.

Despite Janus being Virgil's "man in the chair" as it were, he has never operated with the same morals. Remus will never forget the time some henchmen broke into their secret hideout while Virgil and Roman had been away on a mission. Janus had not hesitated to put lead directly into their foreheads.

"I'm afraid I don't indulge in the same mercy as your father," Janus had said, tidying up the mess they'd left behind, "It is my duty to preserve the safety of those I've been sworn to protect, even if comes at the lives of others."

The Raven is a vigilante that is shrouded in mystery. There are rumors that circulate the streets that the Raven is inhuman, a being that moves swiftly and strikes without warning. Some even dare to whisper about the unfortunate ends that some of the Raven's victims have met. What they don't know is that last bit is all of Janus's doing.

It's why Remus has never understood Virgil's hypocrisy. He'll turn a blind eye to Janus's actions but Remus, roughing up a thug a little too harshly? Oh no, no, no, that was the most heinous thing Remus could ever do.

(He wonders what his adoptive father thinks of his actions not only tonight, but the past few months. Isn't this everything his father feared and more? Putting aside the whole "not being dead" thing, isn't this enough to make him irredeemable in the Raven's eyes?)

"Janus?" Remus hesitates, "would he be willing to make his tea?"

"For you, I am sure he is willing to prepare a full spread of pastries along with a pot of tea. He has...missed you a lot, Remus."

Remus's stomach rumbles. He hasn't eaten in weeks--not since he realized his body technically doesn't need food to survive. But he does need Janus's pastries. Those pastries are never a want, but a necessity.

"Okay, I'll go." Remus says, craning his neck to meet the Raven's gaze, "but only because I'm hungry."

Somehow, this causes a snort from his adoptive father. The closest thing resembling a laugh that the Raven will ever do. When he is not the Raven, and is simply Virgil--sometimes the man will actually laugh. Even so, that snort is the closest thing to a laugh that Remus has heard from the man in close to a year before his death.

Remus's legs buckle beneath him, almost bringing the Raven down with him. But it's not from the shock of the old man laughing. No, it's more likely his body protesting his week long streak of not sleeping.

It seems even though he doesn't require as much sleep as before, he still requires a certain amount of it. Or at least, that is what makes the most sense in his hazy racing thoughts.

"I've got you," Virgil whispers, his words unfettered by the voice modifier, "you're safe now."

Arms gather underneath him, as a long Kevlar cloak is draped around his wiry figure. An unwanted memory drifts to the surface; a time where his kid self demanded to be carried home and the Raven obliged without complaint. Roman had trailed after them, begging to be carried as well.

Janus had taken one look at their return (Roman clinging to Virgil's back like a baby koala while Remus was cradled in his arms) and simply raised an eyebrow. But it was clear through his stifled breathing that he found the entire thing comical.

Remus doesn't want to fall unconscious. He'll deny it, protest it with a wide grin and a cackle, that death doesn't scare him. But he is terrified of pitch black darkness.

He fears a confined undetermined space that is meant to seal him away deep in the ground. He fears wood splinters underneath his fingernails as he chokes on dirt as he continues to dig upwards, driven by an urge to survive--to break out of the ground to blessed, fresh air. He fears staring at a gravestone and just laughing until he started vomiting clods of dirt.

What if Virgil is lying about Janus? What if he decides to bury Remus again, this time in a coffin made out of titanium or reinforced concrete--dooming him to a living death?

"No," He mumbles, attempting to grasp tightly to Virgil's cloak, "I don't--"

But his eyes flutter shut against his volition, and he can only hope that they truly did miss him enough; that the words carved on his gravestone were genuine and sincere.

Remus Seagrove

20XX-20XXX

Beloved Son, Brother, Friend

Dearly Missed and Departed from the Earth too Soon