he he he heee

4

Interior of Dusty’s hangar.

By the way, what a great fan you lost, Rip.

oh-flug-me  asked:

"Boss! Get back here! You're sick!" Flug ran after Black Hat after he collected a few things and stuffed them in his first aid toolbox. It was for both if Black Hat tried to kill him and if the demon get himself hurt. "Boss, come on. You don't have to do anything, I'll handle it."

   Black hat stumbled onto the walkway that lead from his abode to the rest of the street, flopping himself against the gate that separated his estate from the rest of the world. He panted, God, why was he so tired- so hot, was he sweating?  Oh god his head, his stomach, it hurt. An arm snaked around his waist. He couldn’t see or think straight. He glared back with a snarl. He didn’t want help- he could damn well get help on his own.

   He would’ve mocked Flug, “I’ll handle it,” As if, but he was so sick that he– Heee- oh god. He coughed and felt something rising in the back of his throat. He hitched and black goo and gunk and god knows what erupted from his throat, he hunched over and it landed on the grass with a sizzle. He grew weaker, gasping for air once he was finished vomiting, he stumbled back and fell flat on his ass. He held his head in his hands, god it was pounding, make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!!! 

I’m pretty excited because things have lined up in such a way that 2016 is kind of starting with a bang! I’m getting a haircut tonight (just something fresher, don’t panic peeps) and tomorrow I’m going to be in a parade! I’ve never been in a parade before and it’s kind of one of those bucket-list items for me so when my work needed some volunteers for balloon handlers during the Fiesta Bowl Parade I thought why not?