#i wanted to try to figure out some sort of basis before i made it specifically be sonic so i could try to make the other characters

[loveletterworm]

Awesoem

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Hot take maybe but I think Bertie would be FAR more likely to survive the first two months of Dracula than Jeeves would be. Bertie has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Jeeves consistently underestimates how dangerous a situation might get (Steeple Bumpleigh, the club book) because he’s overconfident about his level of control over any given situation. He'd handle Dracula masterfully if they faced off in England, but on Dracula's home turf? Much more doubtful.

I realize this might be a tough sell, so I will explain further (or it's not a tough sell, and I'm going to explain further because I want to). (criteria taken from @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula) Without further ado.

Would Jeeves and Wooster survive Castle Dracula?

Jeeves

Jeeves' survival will depend on how long Dracula finds him more entertaining than irritating. On that basis, I don't think he's long for this world. On the one hand, he has a huge wealth of knowledge about English society and culture that he can recite perfectly from memory. That should buy him at least a little time with noted teaboo Dracula.

On the other hand, he would be absolutely no fun as a vampire plaything. Jeeves cannot be got. Sneaking up on him while he's shaving will yield zero reaction (though that's at least good for his short-term survival--given that, although he DID take the crucifix from the old woman out of politeness, he certainly isn't going to wear it. The rules of fashion don't go out the window just because you're in a spooky castle). Then, although managing the whims of rich jerks is not an insignificant part of a valet's job, Jeeves usually does this by bending his employers to his will. Dracula is not the sort of employer this will work on. It'll just add insult to injury when on top of being impossible to scare, NOW Jeeves is telling Dracula that his favorite cloak is several centuries out of fashion and he's not allowed to wear it anymore.

Jeeves will 100% go exploring in the areas he was told not to go-- though to be fair, he MIGHT actually get away with this, what with his superpower of appearing in rooms without being seen or heard. Said superpower might save him from the brides as well (though this is by no means guaranteed). Since I find it doubtful that Dracula would come to rescue his annoying ass, not being noticed is his best defense.

There are a couple other things working in Jeeves's favor; the question is just whether they'll be enough to save him.

He DOES know shorthand, and could try to send coded letters. He might even have the foresight to squirrel away some extra stationary where Dracula can't find it. But could he get them posted? Would it even do him any good?

He certainly has enough cultural literacy to figure out what his new boss is pretty quickly. If he didn't chuck the crucifix out the carriage window, he might start carrying it around in his pocket.

Psychology of the individual, sure, but the individual in question is a 400-year-old vampire who lives in an isolated castle in a foreign country and is regarded as a terrifying mythological figure in the surrounding villages. Jeeves has never come up against anything this alien before, he's cut off from his normal resources, and opportunities to play people against each other are limited.

He probably has enough upper body strength from all that shrimping and fishing to climb the wall, so he COULD escape if he wanted to, if he survived long enough. It's just, again, that overconfidence, and also Dracula has a vast library full of rare old books that are entirely at his disposal. He's keeping his eyes and ears alert for potential escape strategies, of course, but I don't see him being as desperate to get out as Jonathan was.

There are just a lot of "depends on"s here, and I'm not convinced that luck would shake out in Jeeves's favor, all things considered.

Bertie

Bertie is so perfect for the job of Castle Dracula Prisoner it's like it was made for him. Think about it. Being held against his will in big manor houses comes more naturally to him than breathing. He's afraid of things that are scary. A lifetime of dealing with Aunt Agatha has made him the world's preeminent expert in "curl[ing] up in a ball in the hope that a meek subservience [will] enable [him] to get off lightly." He will NEVER go exploring in places he's been warned away from if nobody is forcing him to (Rev. Aubrey Upjohn's office notwithstanding. There were biscuits in there). He's both fun to talk to and easy to toy with (and extremely English). A+ prisoner. Dracula adores him.

In my opinion, Bertie is at Castle Dracula either because Aunt Agatha got some wires seriously crossed and thinks he’s going to meet an eligible potential bride (I mean, there are certainly brides there), or because Dracula has something Aunt Dahlia wants him to steal (far less likely, given that one of Dracula’s THINGS is famously not owning anything silver). Either way, he's shown himself entirely willing and able to escape down drainpipes if a sitch gets too scaly.

He DOES take the crucifix, and DOES wear it (which is what will save him during the shaving scene, because you KNOW he's going to jump a foot and cut himself like the dickens). He's read enough supernatural goosefleshers to be genre savvy about terrified old women cryptically pushing crucifixes into one's hands. I also think his sunny disposish endeared him to the villagers, and they were particularly vehement about urging him not to go. He doesn't speak German or Romanian, but he's empathetic enough to recognize Pure Terror. So by the time he actually gets to the castle, his imagination is already running wild and he's plenty aware that he is in imminent danger.

I think the biggest risk to Bertie will be the brides; whether or not he's susceptible to trances, if he thinks they're trying to marry him, it's against the code of the Woosters to turn them down. But that only becomes an issue if he comes face to face with them, which, luckily, I think is unlikely on account of the aforementioned "won't go exploring" (and if he did, Dracula would definitely rescue him).

I'm inclined to say due to his drainpipe-escape habits that he WOULD be able to climb the wall and MAY attempt to sneak into Dracula's room to look for the keys if his desperation grows to outweigh his fear. Whether he does or not, though, he does NOT have the stomach to attempt shovel murder, and therefore won't get magic brain fever, and may very well simply walk out the front doors when the people come to take the boxes away. OR he climbs his way out like Jonathan did. Either way.

When Bertie tells this story at the Drones later, Tuppy will say that no doubt it's been greatly exaggerated and all that probably happened was that he spent a couple months in an oldish house entertaining a weird loner.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Melted

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): smut :))

Notes: Writing this in honor of the 105 degree heat I had to endure a week ago. Also Fierce might be a bit OOC but I want my sexy daddy rn

Masterlist

It was so damn hot.

Blistering heat swept across your skin, practically glowing from the thin layer of sweat, and you sat on the porch and considered your life choices. It was just your luck that your AC decided to die on you in the dead of summer, which is why you were outside in some booty shorts and a bikini top, hair up and popsicle practically down your throat.

"Jewel?" A voice rumbled from the depths of your home, and the Fierce Deity stepped onto the porch, the wood creaking under his impressive bulk. He stopped short as soon as he caught sight of you, eyes wide with some unidentifiable emotion that you were positive had to do something with your current state of (un)dress. Not that you were particularly impressed when you caught sight of his fashion choices.

"Okay, I know you're a god, but how can you wear that," you gestured incredulously to the full set of armor he was sporting. "Why can't you melt like the rest of us?"

The deity gave a short laugh, moving to sit beside you. "I was not aware you would prefer that, though perhaps I can offer an..." his tone deepened. "alternative."

You raised an eyebrow and delivered a sharp, slurp-y suck to your popsicle. There was no way in hell you were going to fuck in this heat, not when you were positive a warm breeze would send you into cardiac arrest. "Nice try, but I fancy my life."

For a second, you could have sworn his expression turned pouty, but it was quickly replaced with a small grin. It was rare to see him so... carefree (even if he was hinting to having sex on the hottest fucking day of the year), and you almost felt inclined to humor him. Almost.

"Of course, but I have taken the liberty of exploring your territory," back was the feral glint in his pupil-less eyes. "are you aware of the springs on the eastern border?"

Aside from the fact that he talked like everything was a military campaign, he did have a point. The only problem was that the neighboring children didn't consider your 'territory' as private as he did, and you had no doubt they were there now. "Thanks, but I don't feel like exposing myself to a bunch of children," you snarked, finishing off your popsicle with one last hearty slurp, blind to how the deity's eyes immediately snapped to watch the spectacle with rapt attention. "Now, we could fill my bathtub with ice cubes, but I doubt you'll fit."

"Inconceivable," was Fierce's deadpan response, and you wondered if letting him watch The Princess Bride was a bad idea.

"Exactly," you flicked the wooden stick into the trashcan and wobbled to your feet. "Welp, I'm going to get naked and hope my skin peels off so I can be cool."

It was almost funny how alarmed he looked at your statement. "You will do nothing of the sort, my vow—"

"It's a joke, it's a joke!" you interjected before he could go all guard dog on you. "The heat's not doing any favors to either of us right now."

A hand sealed itself over your wrist, preventing you from stumbling inside like you hoped. You raised your eyebrow at the deity currently holding you captive, waiting to see if he would explain himself or if it was time for you break out the mom(tm) voice again.

"You need not worry about the children, they would not dare disturb you in my presence."

Of course he had threatened the children. It was to be expected that, whether intentional or not, the Fierce Deity was an imposing figure, and you had no doubt that it had taken nary a cold glance to send those poor kids running for the hills. You pinched your temples with your free hand at the very thought of another encounter with the HOA on the basis of the seven foot deity stalking your land at night. "Oh my god, please tell me you didn't chase them out."

"I did not have to," intoned the deity, as if that made it any better. "They left as soon as the leader caught sight of me."

And by 'left', you just knew he meant 'ran screaming for the hills'. "Fierce..."

"That is my name."

You deadpanned. "No shit, Sherlock."

"That is... not my name."

You were done. Tugging halfhearted in his hold, you whined. "C'mon man, it's too hot for this—"

Without warning, the Fierce Deity rose to his feet, practically casting a shadow over your sweltering form, and hoisted you, butt first, over his shoulder in one quick motion. You gasped in outrage, fists banging on the back of his armor, which did no damage whatsoever. "H-Hey! Put me down!"

Was this really happening? You were half-convinced a fever dream had taken hold of your sanity, because while Fierce was, well, fierce, he definitely wasn't the type to throw you down somewhere and make love to you... or was he? You could count the number of 'encounters' you'd had with the deity on one hand, as you relationship hadn't developed in that way until recently, and he had always waited for you to initiate, though you weren't dense enough to miss the way he glanced back at you with an expression with absolute want. Clearly, this display was him coming out of his metaphorical shell, and you were so here for it. Not that you weren't going to give him a run for his money first.

"Fierce!" You kicked your feet, though they didn't go far with the protective arm slung over the backs of your thighs. "Fierce, are you listening?"

"No," responded the deity honestly. "You would have used the phrase if you truly wanted me to stop."

Fuck, he had you there. You had been the one to suggest a safe word in the early hours of your newfound 'relationship', and Fierce quickly agreed. Though the word 'vow' had entered the conversation, it was quickly shot down, with the deity explaining that his vow to you was a sacred, unbreakable thing, and he had no wish to sully it. You were fairly sure him fucking your brains out wouldn't do that, but relented quickly when you realized just how serious he was.

"That doesn't mean I can't be annoyed with you," you snarked, though it was more playful than anything. Your house had long since disappeared as you traveled further into the forest, though it was hard to tell just how far he had taken you.

"That is why I shall never cease to adore you."

"I, what—" You squawked in abject embarrassment despite the fact that you had seen each other naked multiple times. "Y-You can't just say stuff out of the blue like that!"

"Inconceivable," came the second movie reference of the day. "I would never utter an untruth to you."

The fuck? Sure, he liked call you his treasure when he was balls deep, and there was no shortage of affection from him when you found yourself alone together, but you'd hardly expected such a stoic man to... well, it was as if he was trying to fluster you!

And, by god, was it working. Heat rushed through every part of your body at the thought of him taking control for the first time in, well, forever. Initiating was your thing, but now...

With a face redder than a beet, you muttered. "You better carry me back, dick."

You yelped when something distinctly close to a hand came down on your left ass cheek, not hard enough to hurt, but it got your attention all the same. "I intend to," came the deity's smug promise as you grappled with the fact that he had just smacked your ass.

Before you could muster a response to the insanity that had just occurred, Fierce pushed past a gaggle of branches--making sure they didn't smack you in the process, which was honestly the sweetest--and marched into the clearing where the hot springs resided. You waited patiently for him to set you down, regarding the bubbling spring with thoughtful consideration. The water was cool, that much you were sure of, and the area was blissfully empty of squawking children.

"...You may be on to something here."

A chuckle rumbled from Fierce's mouth, and he began to remove his armor. You froze as his breastplate and tunic came off, revealing miles of battle-scarred skin, glistening temptingly in the blazing sun, then scrambled to remove your shorts the second he undid his belt, because damn if you weren't going to get a piece of that. "You're such a bad influence," you teased, tossing your shorts to the way side as his leggings flew to the ground below. While you had the foresight to put on a pair of swim bottoms, the deity had done no such thing, standing naked before you without a care in the world. You were glad to see him so confident, even though it was wholeheartedly unexpected. "Scaring kids so we can play hooky."

But Fierce wasn't fazed, marching forward to scoop you up once again. You laughed in surprise, arms falling around his neck, legs wrapped around his very naked waist, as an arm came under your ass to support you. "I live to serve," rumbled the deity softly, and you pecked his lips with a cheeky grin.

"I know."

You giggled when he entered the spring, tall enough that no water reached you for a few steps. You wiggled out of his grasp as soon as the water touched your bum, paddling away happily in the blissfully chilly spring. The deity made no move to grab you, standing waist-deep with his arms crossed over his delicious chest. You began to tread, swiveling your body to face his. "Isn't it nice?"

Fierce offered you the ghost of a smile, though the softness in his eyes said what he didn't. "It is."

Still treading, you continued: "You know how to swim?"

He nodded, expression flashing to something more grave. "How am I to protect you without?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Chuckling, you paddled back over, leaving a trail of bubbles in your wake, hands outstretched like a child. The Fierce Deity caught you under the arms, pulling you close. His skin was cool, and you snuggled closer, practically purring... until something very familiar poked your prone thigh.

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of heat in your abdomen that had absolutely nothing to do with the weather. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you quipped: "Is that a sword or are you just happy to see me?"

Fierce's large hands slid down to cup your rear, covered only by the thin fabric of your swim bottoms. His expression seemed to darken when you arched slightly into his touch

"Fierce..." you breathed, running your hands over his broad shoulders as his hardness slid against your core, and it was then that the deity chose to capture your lips in a searing kiss, pulling you impossibly close. You moaned into his mouth, water rushing past your bare sides as he backed you against a conveniently-placed rock at the edge of the spring. He pressed you to them, deepening the kiss as you pawed at his shoulders.

"--Wait," you all but gasped when he broke the kiss. The Fierce Deity froze, hands stilling. His gaze never left your face, studying your panicked expression as he waited for you to speak. "--What if someone sees?"

A hand came up to stroke your cheek, tender enough that you scarcely believed it had happened in the first place. "No one shall disturb us," your deity soothed, but you knew that if you truly wished it, he would stop without so much as a complain. It was simply how he was.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, averting your eyes for a split second. It wasn't that you didn't believe him, but there was something so taboo about enjoying each other in such a public space. Gaze flitting back to him, you whispered: "...Promise?"

"I vow it," was his response, so sincere that you could have cried. Heart swelling, you gave a shy nod and pulled him in for another blistering kiss. The Fierce Deity's reaction was slow, but purposeful, as his hands stroked up and down your sides, eventually sliding upwards to hold your cheeks. Your legs tightened around his waist, bringing you impossibly closer to his rock hard dick. You broke the kiss, offering him a small, cheeky grin that coincided perfectly with the slow roll of your hips. The tips of the deity's ears pinked and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "I guess you are excited to see me."

Instead of responding, he dove for your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point gently. You whimpered, chin tilting up for better access. His hands roamed back down to your sides, noticeably cautious, and you realized why when they cupped your breasts, thumbs stroking your pebbled nipples through your bikini top.

"Fierce!" You quivered as his tongue lathed over your neck, peppering the trembling skin with featherlight kisses. It didn't matter that you had done this before--it was amazing every time. He tweaked a nipple carefully and you broke. "Ah!"

Your hands grabbed hold of his stark white hair, tugging softly as you struggled to contain yourself. Your back arched when one of his hands slid across your spine to untie your top, tossing it aside as soon as the fabric slackened enough to be pulled off, baring your breasts to the open air. You shivered, half from the chill and half from the intensity of his stare, as though he would never get tired of you.

Almost reverently, the Fierce Deity dipped his head, taking a nipple in his hot mouth. You threw your head back when he rolled the other one between two thick fingers, plucking the tender bud hard enough to make you squeal. His gaze snapped to your face, drinking in every single one of your reactions with such a starstruck glint in his eyes that you could hardly stand to hold his burning look.

"Please," you whimpered, unsure of what you were actually asking for. Maybe it was his body, pressed closer than you could ever imagine, or maybe it was his soul, practically cradled in the palm of your hand. You felt as though would die for those eyes, gazing up at you with more emotion than you knew what to do with. "Fierce..."

Maybe it was the way you said his name, or the way you looked above him, face flushed a deep cherry as you panted for breath, but the Fierce Deity released your nipple to press a sweet kiss to the top of your left breast, directly over your beating heart. A soft gasp left you when his hands cupped your ass and he lifted you onto the rock, laying you down like you were the deity in this relationship.

You craned your neck to watch him settle between your legs, face to face with your undoubtedly soaked swim bottoms. Calloused hands stroked your hips, but Fierce didn't go further, staring at you with a questioning gaze. The tips of his fingers grazed the waistband, and his voice practically rumbled through you.

"May I?"

It warmed your heart that, even now, he was still this soft, this gentle with you, always asking before going further. Every one of his touches was a question that you were all too eager to answer, practically trembling with anticipation. "Go ahead," you whispered, shooting him a dazzling smile. Your swim bottoms were abruptly removed, but you didn't find it in yourself to care when his mouth immediately sealed over your throbbing pussy, delivering a strong suck that had you clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises. A sort of growl reverberated through you and the Fierce Deity was immediately above you, gently removing your hand and pinning it to the stone with his own. The head of his dick pulsed against your entrance, but you weren't able to appreciate it when your chin was abruptly grabbed.

"No," rumbled the deity in a tone that reminded you of the distant crack of thunder, so close that you could feel his breath against your face. "I want to hear you."

You could have cum at that very moment.

Holy. Shit.

You could only manage a wobbly nod, jaw nearly at the floor, and he scooted back down, giving you a pointed look before lacing your fingers with his, holding your hands at your stomach as he reacquainted himself with your swollen clit, suckling the throbbing bud with enough force to make you moan louder that you had in your life. After a few seconds, he pulled back, tongue flicked against the small nub before he dover down to absolutely devour your dripping cunt. Your hips attempted to buck at the overwhelming pleasure, but they didn't go far with your arms in the way. You yelped as that godly tongue licked a stripe from base to clit, then diving down do slurp at the slick of your entrance. If there was any hope of you holding your moans back before, there certainly wasn't now, even as you twisted and shivered. Even so, there was no reprieve from that glorious mouth of his as he chased your every which way, rumbling lowly against your lips when you moved a bit too harshly.

"Fuck, Fierce–" you wailed as the coil in your belly tightened more and more, drawing you closer to the precipice of orgasm than you thought possible. it was all too obvious that he definitely wasn't human, and you were living for it. "Oh god, I'm going to–"

You finished the sentence with a shrill cry when he released one of your hands to push two thick fingers into your pussy, crooking at just the right angle that–paired with the sharp, all-consuming suck he delivered to your clit–made you quite literally see stars as your orgasm crashed into you like a speeding train. Your body shook, back arching with wild abandon, as you screamed your release to the bright, blue sky, too far gone to care whether anyone saw you or not.

Fierce released you when the tremors stopped, removing his fingers from your overstimulated cunt, though it wasn't for long, as he had you in his arms before your knees could drop from their folded position, cradling you to his naked chest as he made his way to shore, carefully sitting against a stone beside the bank with you in his lap, head buried in the center of his chest.

"Are you alright?" came his concerned rumble, and you couldn't help but chuckle, lifting your head to deliver a swift kiss to his chin.

"Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you?" you asked softly, pushing some hair from your sweaty forehead.

"Many times," answered the deity with a small smile, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. He tasted sweet, a bit musky, and you couldn't imagine anything better... until you registered the pulsing penis–large and thick, wreathed in trimmed white hair that most definitely matched the drapes–settled against your aching cunt. It was sweet that he was giving you time to recover, but you wanted that in you now.

"Fierce," you moaned, rocking your hips slowly into his dick. A soft groan was your answer, and his hands were at your hips, guiding you up. Panting, you took him in hand, bringing the tip to rest snuggly between your drooling folds, angling yourself to that the appendage brushed heavily against the base of your clit, eliciting a shiver and moan.

Something dark glinted in the deity's stark eyes for a split second, but you didn't dwell on it when he began to push you down on his cock; slowly, as to not harm you, but there was definitely an insistent edge to his guidance that you couldn't help but notice. That, combined with the subtle clenching of his jaw, was all you needed to know on the subject. Gathering your strength, you sealed your hands on his shoulders and slid all the way down in one fell swoop, drawing a surprised gasp of your name from Fierce himself. You knew he wasn't much of a talker during sex, which was why moments like this were so damn delicious.

Gathering your strength, you began to bounce with reckless abandon, drawing more grunts from your lover as he grappled with the newfound pleasure. He always did what was good for you, which made returning the favor all the more overdue.

"Does that– huff, feel good?" You asked between bounces, making sure your grin was as cheeky as could be, reaching up to grasp handfuls of his hair. You tugged gently, forcing him to bend down for a sweet, sweet kiss. His hands tightened on your hips, but no move was made to restrain you, so you continued like your life depended on it, moaning softly as the head of his dick caressed that spongey spot within you with every swooping thrust. "You're always– haa, fuck, doing things for me, s-so I'm going to return the–...ohhh god, favor."

Time seemed to meld together when he kissed you, tongues swirling together in a dance only known to the two of you. The Fierce Deity wasn't a man of many words, but you felt his devotion in the way he pulled you close, his desire as his hand snaked down to play with your swollen bud of a clit, and his love in the way he looked at you with absolute, unadulterated adoration.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were in love with Fierce , which is why you reached beneath you to fondle his balls, large and heavy, in a featherlight caress, drawing another half-moan from the depths of his throat. You joined the chorus when the coil in your abdomen began to tighten once again under his careful ministrations. Your hips and thighs burned as you struggled to keep pace, huffing and puffing as determination flashed in your eyes. he did so much for you, so how could you not return–

As if on cue, Fierce's hands returned to the sides of your hips, gripping your love handles with a conviction. His legs, once straight, curved as he planted his feet on the ground and delivered a harsh thrust into you that had you screaming like a maniac. Over and over, he pounded into your poor pussy, rocking your very soul as you fought for stability, arching your chest into his own, which he told advantage of in the form of his mouth closing in on a bobbing nipple, sucking deftly as he practically hollowed you from the inside out. A myriad of whimpers left your throat, raw from all the yelling, but there was nothing you could do but scratch your nails down his biceps, crying your pleasure to the sky above.

It was then that your climax hit you with the force of a tsunami. You threw your head back with a half-sob when he slammed your hips to his own, holding you in place as you thrashed and babbled in overwhelming pleasure, eventually wandering up to control your upper body so he could press gentle kisses and bites onto your tender flesh. One thrust later and scalding cum filled your overstimulated, drooling pussy, but you were far too gone to react with anything other than a soft moan.

Exhausted, you allowed yourself to fall back into his chest, heaving with exertion. The Fierce Deity held you close, and you simply existed there for a few precious moments, drinking in each other's presence. It was only when his hands stroked over your spine, eliciting several shivers, did you find your voice again.

"W-Wait, I need a–" you tried to sit up–mildly panicked at the thought of him wanting to go again–but a gentle hand kept you down. "–I need a break."

"I know," came your lover's comforting rumble. He sounded weary, but you knew it wouldn't last; he was a god, after all. "How do you feel?"

"Fucked," you snarked tiredly, earning yourself a tender swat to the ass that felt more like a caress than anything. "I'm joking– I'm tired."

"I can tell," sneered the deity, hands coming under your armpits. You did your best impression of a rag doll as he lifted you off his massive dick, standing up and cuddling your prone form to his chest. You loosely wrapped an arm around his thick neck, black spots dancing in your vision when he bent to retrieve his clothes and yours. "Sleep, my dove."

And who were you to refuse? With a sleepy rumble, you pecked his shoulder once more and allowed sleep to take you.

The next morning, there was a note on your front door.

You had awoken in your bedroom, satisfyingly sore, to one of Wild's patented omelets on your nightstand. You grabbed the accompanying fork and ate the still warm creation before traipsing down the stares to greet the boys, though not before exchanging the large tunic placed over you for some regular clothes, because while you loved wearing Fierce's clothes, you had some sense when it came to the other men in the house knowing of your... escapades with the deity, who was nowhere to be found. Time informed you that he was 'out', which was code for 'likely doing something illegal because no one wanted to fight him', but it was far too early to deal with whatever bullshit that scenario would bring.

You saw the note–which was really just a sad piece of notebook paper taped to the center of your door–after getting the mail. Puzzled, you retrieved it, tucked the mail under your arm, and nearly dropped everything when you read the blasted thing.

It was a note from your neighbor, Cindy, a middle-aged woman with either two or three kids–you had fallen out with her after she caught the Fierce Deity stalking over her property line in the dead of night–informing you that your guard dog had struck once again and she was calling the police if she saw his 'satanic cosplayer ass' again.

After taking a moment to gather your bearings–and once again contemplate the insanity your life had become, you crumpled the note, opened your mouth, and bellowed: "FIERCE DEITY!"

That's a wrap! I hope y'all enjoyed the product of my conversation with @h4wari. I'll do edits tomorrow so feast on this unedited sin.

Tag List:

@ash-staff

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Time of the month

Eddie Munson x reader

Summary: You started your period, and Eddie tries to help.

Warnings: fluff, menstruation, mention of sex.

A/n: Not proofread. no minors allowed.

The front door slamming startles you in your spot, huddled in various blankets and pillows. Eddie scans the dark living room in search of you until his eyes land on your figure. There you were hidden beneath all sorts of fluffy blankets with the ever curtain closed.

He laughs to himself, "Hey sweetheart, I'm home."

You look over to him, faking a smile. "Hi."

Eddie frowns." What's wrong? "

"Got my period." You murmured.

He pouts out his bottom lip, moving closer, sitting next to you. "Anything I can do?"

You shake your head no, leaning over to lay your head on his chest. Immediately, Eddie wrapped his arms around you.

"I heard sex can be the cure." He half joked.

You groaned, hiding your face. "Eddie!"

He lets out a belly laugh and moves to stand bending down to give you a quick kiss. He kicked off his boots and placed them by the door.

"M'just playin." He smirked.

"No, you weren't." You pouted.

His smirks grew wider as he watched you."Yeah, you're right, doesn't hurt to try."

If you weren't in the state you are right now, he'd call you cute, but he knows better.

"You sure? I can really pound those cramps outta ya." He joked again, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

All you could was groan at his attempt to make you laugh.

Eddie is in a playful mood, and you were absolutely not. Your cramps had you hunching over in pain. You went through three pairs of panties after bleeding through them by accident. The last thing on your mind is sex. You know he's really just joking deep down, but the thought makes you wince a little. You've been in the same position all day. Huddled under numerous blankets you could find with a heating pad on standby.

He puts his hands on his hips, looking around his trailer. You could tell he's trying to come up with a solution to your problem. Unfortunately, the only solution is dealing with it for four days until it's gone.

Eddies' coveralls were covered in grease from the dirty cars he'd been fixing all day. You could see some of the grease smudged on his neck and face. His five o'clock shadow thickening up around his jaw. If it wasn't for your period, you'd definitely would take him up on his offer. You always thought he looked good on a daily basis. But there was something about how he looked after coming home from a long day at work that made you want to jump on him.

"Wanna take a shower with me?" Eddie spoke softly.

Your face softened, and the pout that was close to being permanent on your face disappeared. "Yea."

"After we clean up, I'm gonna order out and rub your back. You like that?" Eddie walked over to help you stand. Taking your hands into his.

"Mmhmm--id like that a lot, but you don't have to." You tried to argue feeling slightly guilty.

A back rub sounded like heaven, but he's been at work all day. The last thing he should be doing is waiting on your hand and foot. You were perfectly fine resuming what you've been doing all day anyway.

"Ah, ah, don't start. Let me help make you feel better." His tone is gentle, but his face was serious. You knew there was no arguing your way out of this.

"Okay, can we rent a movie too?" You sighed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

"Of course, whatever you want." Eddie squeezed you tighter to him.

He leads you to the shower and helps you undress. You asked him about his day loving how worked up he got at his coworkers sometimes. Eddie told about how some guy came in for an oil change that ended up lasting hours since the poor man had never had one before. You washed his hair, running your nails through his scalp. He hummed every time you did that for him. You swore if he was a cat, he'd be purring right now.

"All done?" Eddie asked, moving around to block the water from hitting your face.

"All done." You smiled, playfully tugging on his chin, causing him to giggle.

"Let's get you warmed, and then I'll make you feel better for a little while." He whispered.

Eddie did as he promised. He fed you. Warmed you up in his arms as you cuddled in his lap. He rented you The Princess Bride to watch. When the movie was over, Eddie guided you to the bedroom where he rubbed your back until you finally fell asleep.

"I love you." He bent over to kiss your cheek.

"Love you too." You muffled in your pillow. You were relaxed and your cramps subsiding. Sleep overtaking your exhausted body.

[sapphorror]

Okay, but Zim and the Tallest are actually legitimately one of my favorite dynamics in any piece of media solely on the basis of how hilariously compelling and compellingly hilarious they are. like imagine the most annoying guy you know from alien grade school grows up to be the worst terrorist your society has ever seen, which incidentally ends up facilitating your own rise to power, and when he kind of almost ends your whole civilization it is a little bit your fault because if you'd let him do his actual assigned job maybe he WOULDNT have stolen a mecha and taken it out on your entire planet. you repeatedly try to send him off to the sorts of places meant to quietly swallow him but somehow he keeps coming back at the most embarrassing, inconvenient, and sometimes catastrophic moments. and at some point during all of this he's low-key imprinted on you as surrogate absentee parental figures, despite the fact that you are a) his age, and b) can't fucking stand him. you're not sure whether it started before or after he rested his entire sense of identity on a rivalry with some random human child plagued by crippling daddy issues but that has definitely not made it any better. you want to kill him but this entire situation has made you feel so unbelievably weird that you've somehow roped yourself into doing a bizarre long-standing pantomime with him instead, like a dysfunctional romantic relationship wherein you keep resolving to break it off but immediately lose your nerve the second you try to look them in the eye. He'll call and you'll be like "I really am gonna end it this time" and somehow it just doesn't happen. You abuse your power to bully him into submission, but it always backfires. You try ghosting but it turns out he's clinically insane. You don't know how any of this happened but you are beginning to suspect there may be no escape. You wonder if he still has the pocket-sized plasma cleanser you begrudgingly lent him in your third year of Elite training.

(he does)

((you're still ticked off that he never gave it back))

[audreyscribes]

"Sand Sugar" Young! Gaara x Older Sibling Figure! Reader- Naruto Fanfic

Author's Note: I was looking at my old devianart page, looking for an art I did years ago and I found the small amount of fanfic works I posted there. The basis of the story was too good and much like what I did for the Clarisse x Reader fic, I thought why not post it here? For archival purposes. So here it is. Please enjoy and thanks for reading! NOTE: This was originally once a "Gaara x Big Sister OC" that was posted in 2014 but I have re-edited it to be a Neutral Gender Reader fic instead. I am also not that deep into the Naruto fandom or too much of the lore. I did at one time watch all of S1 and S2, but that was years ago so don't expect too much.

You sighed as you walked through the Village hidden by Sand. It was one of those days that you had to walk around following your gut. After a while, you found yourself at the playground. You stared at the entrance of the playground, wondering if your subconsciousness wanted to bask in the nostalgia of a long gone childhood; before you had aspirations, before you realize the reality of living as an adult. 

Not knowing what to do else, you decided to lean against the wall, watching a group of kids play ball. Their laughter brought a small smile to your face, before you caught something in the corner of your eye. Your eyes wandered to a kid with red hair alone by his wholesome.

You stared at him before your eyes narrowed down in worry. Why was he out there alone? Where are his friends or his guardians? His parents or siblings? You did a quick scan around to have some indication of company belonging to the boy, yet nothing stood out to you. 

You heard the ball fly and your head turned back to the playground. The ball that the group of kids were playing rolled to the lonely kid as he stared at it like it was a foreign object. So foreign yet so familiar.

After a few seconds, he picked it up and seemed to want to give it back to the kids but you quickly caught the look of absolute fear and disgust, as they yelled something about a demon or some sort. They all ran away as the kid seemed awfully depressed as he watched the kids run away from him like he was going to kill them. 

Your heart clenched at the face he was making ad before you knew it, your feet had carried you over to him. You made sure to make your footsteps known before you gently touched his shoulder. Yet he jumped still as if he was spooked. His head whipped towards you and stared at you with frightened, wide eyes. The sand seemed to rattle and you thought it was the wind, but the voice in the back of your mind whispered something else.

You didn’t want to scare and agitate  him any further so you took a step back, hands up in the air with the best non-threatening gesture you could muster. You saw his tensed shoulders drop slightly and the agitated sand from before, seemed to go silent almost. A suspicion and realization was forming in your mind, but you were committed and crouched to his level. You gave him a smile, your hands still open for him to see.

He seemed to relax more, making you smile more. 

“Hey” you greeted first. 

“Hi…” he said, a bit afraid like he wasn’t used to talking to people.

“What’s your name?” you asked him.

“G-Gaara…” and you blinked at the name. So this was Kaze-Kage's son? From what you’ve heard, he has one of the tailed beast inside him; the Shukaku. Now you were starting to get the picture and the voice in your mind was becoming more right. 

“Hey Gaara.” you greeted once more, “My name is [first name].”

“Hi…” He said meekly.

“Why are you out here, alone?” you asked him, a bit worried. He looked down like he was about to cry. Immediately, you begun to panic while feeling like an idiot. Trying to cheer him up, you searched through your back pocket. It was a weak gesture but you grabbed a bunch of objects and held it out to him. He looked at your hand while you slowly revealed some candy to him.

“Here…want some?” you asked, stuttering with your heart beating against your chest with cold sweat prickling on your skin.

He stared at it before shaking his head. You were confused and more worried, as you kept up your appearance and tilted your head at him, “You don’t like candy?”

He shook his head, “No…I like candy.” He said, “But I don’t know if it’s poisoned or not.”

That threw you in for a loop as you blinked at him in surprise. He already knew about food having poison in them? This kid’s life must be tough. Was your thought before it transitioned to “man is this what being generations of ninjas have to deal with?" To the horrifying thought, “Oh dear Kami, someone has tried to poison before.”

You looked at the colourful sweets in your hand, pondered for a moment before you looked at him, “I promise there isn't any poison in them, but if you’re not sure, why don’t you pick a few out and I’ll eat it, okay?”

He stared at you before looking at your hand. He seemed to ponder and probably thought you were bluffing before pointing a few out. True to your word, he picked those up the most colourful candies and you opened your mouth. He slowly unwrapped one before dropping one inside. You closed it and chewed it, crunching it. You then grinned and tried not to show how you were going to regret this decision, “Come on, did I say to pick out a few more?” 

Gaara looked at you bizarrely before you opened your mouth waiting and he quickly unwrapped a few ones and it wasn’t long before your mouth was stuffed with candy. You then puffed your cheeks to exaggerate how much candy you had and imitating yourself as a hamster. Garra giggled and the sweetness of it almost made your heart burst (Nooo, it wasn’t the rush of sugar that was sitting in your mouth, what were you talking about?)

After a while, letting it dissolve, you then opened your mouth to show him it was all gone. You waited for a few minutes while playing Tic-Tac toe in the sand, before Gaara seemed to be convinced there wasn't any poison in it. He looked expectantly at the candy and you patiently held them out. He seemed to ponder the flavours and colours before he picked one up and tentatively ate it. His whole face brightened up as you giggled. Without thinking, you softly patted his head as he seemed surprised but quickly seemed to enjoy it. You tried not to let your face falter as you felt your heart breaking at the reaction, even more so as he tentatively held your hand to lean his head more.

You got up before you held your hand to him, leading him home. A ninja appeared in front of me as Gaara yelled “Yashamaru”.

You merely let go of Gaara’s hand as he ran up to him. Seeing as he knew the ninja and he was happy, you began to leave; now that Gaara is now with his guardian.

(you wondered where he was this entire time…was he watching you this entire time? But if that was the case, then he should’ve appeared earlier… questions begun to fill you and the sugary sweetness of the candy in your gut begun to turn bitter-)

You turned around to go back to your own home and give yourself a long teeth brushing session, when you felt a tug on my leg. You stopped to look down and saw Gaara, looking at you with his light wide, turquoise eyes. You then knelt down to his level as he gripped your arm like an actual child. You smiled softly at him, tilting your head to the side as you saw Yashamaru not too far away. “What’s wrong Gaara?”

He looked down like he was struggling to say something but you waited. He looked up like he was a bit hesitant but he finally got the courage to speak, “Will I ever see you again [f/n]-Nee/Nii?” 

You blinked at Gaara; thinking me as his older sister already but you merely smirked at him. You messed the top of his head, tickling him. “Of course! All you have to do is call me and you’ll see me~” you said, giving him a grin. 

He beamed before giving me a hug. You admittedly froze for a moment before you returned back with a warm hug and a kiss to the forehead before he ran to the ninja waiting for him. You stood back up while waving him good bye as he did the same. (You could see Yashamaru silently observing and deducing you from over his shoulder and you had a feeling you were going to be interrogated later).

When they were out of sight, you merely sighed to yourself before smiling. Whatever it may be, you had a feeling you were going to this kid no matter what, for a long long time.

[scremogirl]

☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒꥟✧☀︎︎

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐞𝐬

!TWO-FACE/HARVEY DENT ADDITION!

this shit had me doing back flips. one of y’all need to help me figure out this link thingy before i quit. ٩(╬ʘ益ʘ╬)۶

Harvey Dent. A respectable businessman, lawyer, best friend of Bryce Waye, and millionaire playboy. After the chemical explosion, his life changed forever, something inside him trying to claw its way out. Or should I say someone? With his literal other half, he now wore the name Two-Face. Somewhat of a crime boss, not as established as BlackMask and not as sophisticated as the penguin; a very loose interpretation. One of the most dangerous rogues in Gotham, that’s for sure.

Walking down the hall to your destination, you press the button on the side of the metal door to request entry. This office is way bigger than you expected it to be. Compensation for who and what you’ll be having to deal with on an almost daily basis. Setting down your boxes on the large desk, you look around and take a deep breath. As the hour passes you decorate your room to your liking. You sit down in your swivel chair spinning around from time to time to ease your nerves about the arrival of a new patient. You’ve heard many things about Mr. Dent, but unfortunately, none of them are any good.

You hear a loud buzzing sound, signaling to you that someone is here. Hearing the jingling of chains and muffled voices, you see two guards use slight force to push Harvey through the door.

“Good Morning Ms. (L/N),” says the warden.

“Morning Brahms, How are you?” Whatever he says is lost because your eyes land on the man searing your skin with his gaze. You shift from one side of his face to the other, cautious to not stare at the more grotesque side in order to not make him uncomfortable. You’ve read in the files that Two-Face doesn’t appreciate eye contact very much. Understandable.

“Anyways,” says Brahms, snapping you back from reality.

“This one has a bit of an attitude this morning, if you want we could stay and make sure no funny business happens,” gesturing to the guard holding Harvey’s opposite arm.

“That’s alright, sessions are meant to hold some sort of privacy anyways,” From your peripheral you see Two-Face narrow his eyes at you, less hostile, but one shows skepticism and the other slightly appreciative. Creepy.

“Alright then, we’ll be right outside if you need us,” and with that, they walk Harvey to the bench on the opposite side of the room and leave. He stares at you unmoving, likely assessing you.

“So, Mr Dent, or should I call you Two-Face?” You wait for a reply but he stays silent, leading you to continue.

“I’m Dr. (L/N); your new therapist and/or psychiatrist depending on what they see from outer sessions, knowing this place they’ll make me do both,” you mumble that last part under your breath.

Again he doesn’t respond, so you continue on with your introduction. Tell him what you read in his files, what you expect out of your sessions, the works. As you're talking though, you somehow miss the ringing of the chains and handcuffs. Before you know it he’s made his way around your desk with a hand around your neck.

“You talk too much,” he says, lifting you off the ground and slamming you against the bookshelf behind you. You grasp at his wrist a little as you gasp for air.

“I could just end you right here, y’know that? What’s it to me?” He stares deep into your eyes, so much for not liking eye contact. He’s about to speak again when he feels a sharp jolt through his body. He drops you and flies back, crouching down on the floor. You reach up to your throat and cough up a little before speaking,

“I don’t mind a bit of choking, but nothing near as homicidal. Didn’t your mother teach you how to treat a lady?”

“What the- What the fuck was that?” He grumbles out slowly trying to stand back up.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve myself, how’d you think I managed to stay here as long as I have?” He looks at you with curiosity and searing anger. His expression changes as both his eyes widen and lips slightly part as he watches the forming bruise on your neck slowly disappear.

“Don’t look so surprised Mr. Dent, you’ve probably seen more impressive things,” you straighten out your clothes, fix your hair, and push your glasses back into place. You slowly walk over to your seat and gesture at him to go back to the couch. He begrudgingly complies still in shock…literally.

“You’re a very hostile one Mr. Dent, want to tell me what that’s about?” He goes blank again, mumbling “You deal with this,” before a softer more weary expression manifests on the right side of his face.

“I’m sorry Dr. (Y/N), he’s never really liked any of the therapists here,”

“Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Dent, as you said before I am your new doctor. I look forward to working with you,” you say with a soft smile.

“Now, I believe I asked you a question earlier,” he heaves a deep sigh, turning his gaze down to his feet and hands sliding down his face in exhaustion before continuing.

“He just- he just doesn’t like other people. He can barely tolerate me, always trying to fight his way past me,” you hum as an encouragement for him to continue.

The remaining session goes over pretty smoothly except for a couple of protests from Two-Face when Harvey picks out his flaws. They’re surprisingly calm, just has a bit of a temperament. You write the last note in your pad and close his final.

“Thank you, Mr. Dent; Two-Face. It’ll be quite the experience working with you two,” and with that, the timer signaling the end of your session rings. The guards walk him and take him away, but, before they can drag him all the way out, he glances back at you one last time with a slight smirk.

“Thanks for today Doc, I’ll be sure to use all that new information later,” he says, glancing down at your neck. The guards look at him, between each other, and then you. They give you a quizzical look as you just raise an eyebrow. As they walk out you sit there a little confused. You couldn’t seem to decipher which one of them was talking. That thought is pushed to the back of your mind as two different guards bring another patient in. Well, we’ll just have to see how the next session goes.

[worriedvision]

Former (Part 4)

Part 3 here. Gender neutral reader, more Tighnari here than the previous part.

--

"Collei!" Amber calls, Collei running up with energy as she reunites with her friend. "It's so good to see you again! How long are you here for? I'll get a room booked for you!"

"I'm just here for a day or so. Gotta get back to work after." Collei giggles.

"Oh, is that a pack of those cards? Let's get a drink and have a match!" Amber suggests, Collei nodding as she follows Amber.

"As I was saying, Master Albedo, I think it would be better to have some sort of private space for these lost visions so we can be certain nothing like this happens again." You explain, both of you pouring over the details regarding an employee stealing the visions from the original keepsafe.

"But how could we be sure only we'd be able to lock it efficiently? Normal keys can be stolen easily, and tape can pick up fingerprints..." Albedo hums in thought.

"Well, what if we had some sort of code for the room? And we could change the code on a daily basis so only we would know what the code is?" You ask, Albedo nodding to himself.

Collei looks over after hearing your voice, and she excuses herself for a moment.

"_! It's so good to see you." Collei starts. "Master Tighnari has been really worried. He wants you to come visit!"

"Oh, it's nice to see you Collei!" You start. "I don't think I would be able to do this, my office is stationed in Mondstadt and there isn't an ideal space for me."

"Oh..." Collei trails off. "Master Tighnari really wants to see you again. Is there any way you could come back?"

"He made his feelings clear, Collei. I don't think I could, given how many people know about it." You explain.

"Collei, over here!" Amber cheers, waving her over.

"Well, let's catch up later! I can't be in Mondstadt for too long, hopefully I catch you." Collei nods, rushing off to sit with Amber.

--

That afternoon, you had received a tip from an anonymous individual in Sumeru. There had been reports of visions being sold off as delusions, said individual saying they knew the common meet up spot as they and several others had gone there at the same time slot. Deciding to chase this, you inform Albedo before rushing off.

Unfortunately, you didnt think of who would be purchasing a delusion. You get to the location, just outside of Ghandarva Ville, and the moment you stop to look around, you realise too late the people who gave you the tip did not, in fact, try to get a delusion.

They had been paid a very hefty sum of mora to make you stop getting lost visions returned. Looking around you, you realise you have no escape route. You had self defence lessons, but that wouldn't keep you safe enough.

"Help me!" You scream, the eremites getting closer. "Please, someone!"

--

Tighnari had been talking to Cyno, once again asking if he had any luck in finding you, when he heard your scream for help. His ears perked up, and Cyno figured out where the screams were coming from based on where Tighnari looked. As Tighnari grabs his bow, Cyno is already sprinting to the location.

By the time Cyno got there, you had been curled up on the ground, the self defence completely gone. He turns the corner, some eremites running away like cowards as the others continue to attack you. Tighnari arrived shortly afterwards, some forest rangers also tagging along, and he orders for them to chase after the eremites that ran away. The other eremites got detained by Cyno, him dragging them away, and Tighnari had finally seen you for the first time after regaining his vision.

Before he can let himself get emotional in front of everyone, he knows to carry back to his home so he can take care of you. The moment he does, however, he becomes selfish.

He can't stop hugging you, not for a minute or so. He needs to reassure himself you weren't out of his life, he hoped you could feel how much he missed you with the hug before he gets to work as a doctor instead of a lover.

After taking care of your wounds, thankfully not dangerous but definitely painful, he sits at his desk as he keeps a close eye on you, writing to Mondstadt to inform them of the situation.

[lobotomyd0ll]

Little Girl Lost

Getting sober from hard drugs, especially heroin really is like being reborn. I've spent years nodding off, numbing & forgetting. Each time you pull a plunger of the rig back you chip away parts of your identity... Until there's nothing left. I think that's why it's so hard to stay sober. When you realize you don't know who you are anymore it's terrifying. Your own thoughts and feelings feel foreign to you. So you run back to the one thing that feels familiar, even though its the very thing that put you in that predicament in the first place.

I've had a thousand different "personalities" before I stopped shooting up. All of them were failed attempts at trying to establish a life for myself that could never be lived because I was still killing myself on a daily basis. Each persona dying quicker than the last. It wasn't until I had spent years in therapy, without doing drugs that I finally got to know myself. People always tell you that they miss the person you used to be before you ever picked up substances. And so a lot of people strive to become the person they were before they became a junkie. The problem with that is that person is what lead you to selling your soul. The person you used to be was in so much pain they sought out a lethal relief from it.

The person you were before you got high is never going to come back. They were gone the minute you found out what it felt like to not feel at all. When you get clean you have to figure out how to live life again while trying to figure out who you are at the same time. And if you started doing drugs when you were a kid like I did, you never really had a chance to grow up either. Most addicts have some form of mental illness too. In my case I am bipolar. It took me years after getting clean to figure out who I truly am. I've been sober for 5 years now and it wasn't until about 1-2 years ago that I felt like I had finally "found myself." I hate the term "found myself" because its always used in such cliché examples, but if you are in recovery then you know that its the only way to describe what its like.

Every day I'm still finding myself. When you're in active addiction your only focus is getting drugs and doing drugs. In all that time you didn't do things that "regular" people did. You didn't explore different hobbies or watch tons of movies. You didn't binge watch your favorite tv shows or read books that changed your life. I'm not saying you never do those things while you're on drugs, but most people (like me) barely ever explore different interests because my main interest was heroin.

Now that I am sober and I am completely aware of who I am and what I love, I appreciate everything so much more now. My interests are not just interests anymore, they are my life line. My obsessions. My oxygen. I am autistic so I have a ton of special interests too, but all of my interests mean a great deal to me. Nowadays if i discover a song i like i will listen to it on repeat for 3 days. I will watch the same film 20 times in a row without getting sick of it. In my opinion, addicts never stop being addicted to something. I think us addicts will always replace drug addiction with an addiction to something else. It could be a lot of things or one big thing. It differs between different types of people. Heroin almost killed me and I wish I could take away all the pain and suffering it caused me and everyone around me, but in a weird way I am sort of thankful to have gone through it because of the way it has made me view life today.

I appreciate little things so much more than other people do. I enjoy video games that make me happy in a way that people enjoy going to an amusement park. My favorite books, characters, fictional environments and songs are all little pieces of who I am. I am so grateful for media. I'm so grateful to have constant access to it via my phone or television, etc. I love that I can write about it all I want to whoever is reading this blog. I'm not really sure with where I'm going with this post, I just wanted to share what was on my brain. I am currently trying out new forms of art and incorporating my interests into filmography, crochet, painting, etc. & I was thinking about how just 5 years ago I didn't even know I possessed the talent for some of these things. & How if I hadn't gotten sober I never would have discovered who I am. Getting sober is very freeing, but true freedom is knowing exactly who you are and embracing it. I used to try to shrink myself to make other people feel comfortable. My style was "too much" for them or the way I come off to certain people seems "weird." I decided actually pretty recently that I'm not doing that anymore. I shouldn't have to feel small because others want me to. I went through hell to discover who I am and I intend to be myself and do what I love and what makes me happy, unapologetically.

[ibrithir-was-here]

Dreamling Ever After AU

I have had a thought for another fairy tale AU, this time based on the fantastic Cinderella movie Ever After.

The basis would be Hob, in his lowest 1600s point, before the 1689 meeting, manages to finally land himself a job, working as a servant for a strange, sorceress lady who works him like a dog and treats him as less then one, but at least lets him sleep indoors by the fire and have food and drink.

(It's Thessaly. He gets stuck working for Thessaly)

I'm thinking that Thessaly has captured some fairy servants, and is keeping them trapped basically in her manor along with Hob, who she picked up because she can sense his immortality and thinks he's some other sort of magical being she can bind and draw power from. But really he's just so desperate for bread and board he'd stay anyway without being bound.

Hob being Hob ends up befriending the fairy servants, and when Thessaly sends one of the servants off to be tithed to Hell to get a favor from another fairy Hob goes to save him, as he's not bound as they are as the spells are ment for magical beings.

He goes disguised as a fairy noble--via help from the little magic the fairy servants are able to scrounge up and maybe an amulet they stole from Thessaly or something--to protect him from the reap fairies who will be there.

(He has one blue eye based off his Stranger's, pulled from his thoughts as the fairy servants weave the glamour around him)

So Hob's glamoured up so much to survive Faerie that Dream, who's visiting the fairy courts, doesnt recognize him (his powers are kinda wonky in Faerie anyway we'll say, wibbly wobbly Plot Convience-y) and thinks Hob is a member of the fairy courts, and finds himself intrigued and charmed by this strangely down to earth and kind fairy lord.

(During this time Hob meets and befriends Nuala who fills the Gustav/friend role, her brother might fill the spy-guy role working for Thessaly)

So yeah Hob would keep sneaking off to Faerie to meet dream after his fellow fairy servants encourage him and such, and he's also trying to search for ways to break their bindings to Thessaly and free them.

And he keeps running into Dream and just barely missing Thessaly catching him as she's of course mucking about and now has her eye on weasling her way into the Endless' graces as he's the biggest fish in the pond.

But Dream finds that he more and more only has eyes for his fairy lord, and Hob has long since fallen head over heels for his Stranger as he's gotten to finally know him these last few weeks.

During this time Hob also meets Death, who comes to check on her brother as he's spending a lot of time in Faerie and she wants to make sure he's not going after Titania again or vis versa. She recognizes Hob instantly of course, having made him who he is and knowing everyone.

She knows also sees what a good influence he is on Dream, and determines to help this along. In the disguise of an old woman she gifts Hob a pair of magical shoes-- made from ones he once gave to someone poor in his more prosperous days-- that will protect him from fairy snares so he can better navigate pretending to be part of the fairy courts (there's an old legend about how if you give a pair of shoes to a beggar in life they're given back to you in death in order to walk through hell to heaven, and I'm fiddling around with that a bit)

Eventually of course Hob realizes he has to tell Dream the truth and that he's no fairy lord, just plain old Hob Gadling, who has nothing to offer anymore, no wealth or fame or magic, but only his heart.

Thessaly has figured it out by now of course, and after burning his picture of Eleanor and Robyn after making him trade the magic shoes Death gave him, locks him away so he can't go to the fairy ball.

But he's broken out by Death, who was summoned by the fairy servants, who also managed to steal back and hide the shoes. Death makes him an outfit and encourages him to go tell Dream the truth and trust in Dream's love for him over anything else.

Aaaand of course Thessaly has to jump in and make it look like Hob has been getting close to Dream for selfish purposes, and Dream is a dork and feels he's been made a fool of and rejects Hob before Hob can explain.

At this point Thessaly decides Hob's been too much trouble and decides she'll use him as her next Tithe to Hell, and sends him off to the well they chuck people down.

Death goes and knocks some sense into Dream, who realizes just what he's thrown away and manages to save Hob (Hob may have half saved himself by then anyway-- using the one magical shoe he managed to smuggle with him--as its what happens in the movie but also let Dream show his devotion and save the dear or something. )

And finally they both are able to get their acts together and confess their feelings...

Thessaly gets whats coming to her, both from retroactively threatening the new Prince Consort of the Dreaming and having captured and sacrificed members of the Fairy Court.

The fairy servants are freed, Hob and Dream have a proper fancy marriage in the Dreaming. And they all live Happily Ever After...

I might turn this into a fic, maybe. I want to at least finish or get close to finishing the Enchanted AU fic first, and we'll see how I feel after that. But I loved the idea and wanted to put it out there to share :)

[aphroditelovesu]

It's really fascinating to see just how deeply seeded the legend of Alexander the Great was and is culturally and mythologically. There are depictions of him from across different cultures and genres (ie Persian, Mongolian, Indian, Medieval manuscripts, renaissance painting etc). I've come across legends and depictions of him diving in a primitive submarine, being carried across the sky by griffins, jousting, and even finding the garden of Eden! When you think about it, its basically fan-fiction about him, so you're kind of carrying on the tradition with "The Lost Queen" 👀...

On that note, you know how Reader sees her name in the history book right before she goes back in time? I imagine Reader would become a sort of legend in her own right, by the oh so beloved wife and Queen of Alexander the Great, but also because no one can pin down her origins, creating an air of mystery and romance. Was this "Lost Queen" a princess from one of the many cities he conquered? A nymph? An angel? A peasant girl Alexander fell in love with on the spot? The jury's still out.

I'd also imagine that historians and artist would gloss over or forget the more... problematic aspects of the relationship and lean heavily into the "deeply in love with and devoted to" bit. The 'great romance' between Alexander and Reader will be depicted in the art of numerous cultures and become an especially popular motif in the renaissance. A love story for the ages! Come the 21st century, there will be numerous documentaries produced and youtube videos made trying to figure out the origins of this 'Lost Queen'. Some may even jokingly-but-not-jokingly suggest that maybe she was a time traveller!

Of course, when and if Reader, I imagine it will be a while before she can wrap her head around the fact of being a historical icon. This girl will have gone through a lot of shit.

Sorry if this was long. I'm just really intrigued by the whole thing 😁!

-- O-

👀👀👀

There are many legends about Alexander the Great, some even mentioned in the Bible, however subtly.

I just thought about that! Y/n will be like a legend, the owner of the stone, the Queen who disappeared and was so loved by the great conqueror. Of unknown and even mythological origin for some, little is known about it. The only official information was about how much Alexander loved her, loved her so much that he almost destroyed the city of Babylon - well, I can't say more, but here's something for you to think about.

I can see that there are statues of her throughout the conquered world, made by order of Alexander to leave her love eternal, her beauty eternal. These statues are the only clues as to what she looked like, although the features are not entirely true.

There is no doubt that their "romance" will be embellished and used as the basis for various forms of art. Nobody knew about the toxic part, the obsession and the terrors, but about how much Alexander loved his Queen and how much she must love him.

Imagine when Y/n goes back to his time and discovers all this? About how his suffering was written down in history as something so beautiful and romantic. The poor girl has been through so much shit and still has to deal with being billed as Alexander's "Beloved Queen"... And the historians and scholars trying to figure out how and why it disappeared...

I loved reading your thoughts on it and feel free to send more if you want! ❤️❤️

~ Lady L

[yukidragon]

Remember one of the asks you had about how MC would reassure Jack if we found out his identity?

I wanted to ask something relating to that, if Jack were to slowly let his mask down around us and start acting like his actual self Joseph do you think he would turn back to Joseph appearance wise too? Sorry if this is dumb to ask I’ve just thought about this for awhile🥲

Don't worry, it's not dumb at all!

I think that if Jack were to slowly let himself be Joseph more and more on a gradual basis, that might be healthy for him actually. While he might never be comfortable using that name again, accepting that not all those traits that made him Joseph were bad would be good for him, I think.

As for his appearance... it's possible that the more Jack thinks like Joseph, the more his appearance will get affected by it. Of course, the second he realizes it's happening, it would probably cause a trauma response similar to the worst ending for the yogurt mini game. It might cause him to backslide a bit.

Sunny Day Jack seems to be a figure that was seen as ideal by the public, and Joseph likely internalized it, comparing how people treated him as Jack verses as himself - a big burly guy with piercings and tattoos who used to be a punk. It's easy for someone to take one look at him and his tastes and just write him off without seeing any other side to him. He was loved as Jack, but not as Joseph... or at least not before he started making friends with his fellow actors. Even then, that's still gaining love because of Jack if you think about it.

The persona of Sunny Day Jack might be something that leaves Jack feeling secure that he's doing all the right things to make him worthy of love, rather than worthless. He doesn't seem to see Joseph as worthy of love, likely having internalized things said to him from his past. This means that being Joseph is something pretty scary for him.

However, if Jack keeps slipping into old habits in small ways and he keeps getting positive reinforcement, particularly from MC, it'll eventually get less scary over time. The less need he feels to be exactly what the character of Sunny Day Jack is supposed to be, the more he can find himself again and accept that he is worthy of love, and not just the character he's trying to portray himself as.

I do think that will affect his appearance. Maybe Jack won't completely shift back to his old look and have some sort of blend in appearances, or maybe he'll be able to be comfortable being the man he used to be and be able to look like his old self completely. It's hard to say for sure, but most likely as he manages to accept himself more, some traces of his former self are going to bleed through, whether he likes it or not. When that happens, he'll need support to see that he's not going to be forgotten again and he is loved even if he's not quite as perfect as he believes Sunny Day Jack to be.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

[heliads]

:D yay!!! I love your Newsies stuff sm (and yes you absolutely should rewatch its amazing). If you have time could you maybe write a Race x fem!reader where she's like Spot's second command and kinda like the "mum" of the Brooklyn kids - they go to her for like comfort and when they have injuries or have problems etc. And she's kinda reserved and such but became friends with Race from when he'd spend time in Brooklyn, and after the strike (during like KONY I guess) he goes to find her to ask for her help like getting everyone fixed up and the like, and at some point from there onwards it's like FEELINGS yknow? No worries if not! Only if you're inspired and have time and such :) I love your writing - you're so v talented xx

grateful for your support in my rewatching newsies agenda. anything for you anon xoxo

masterlist

There’s a newsie from Manhattan wandering your streets again. He’s not supposed to be crossing over into Brooklyn like this, none of them are, but for some reason that hasn’t stopped Race Higgins from showing up time and time again. 

It’s not like this should really matter. Shouldn’t, anyway. Brooklyn is messy and getting messier. One particularly plucky Manhattan boy shouldn’t have an impact on what you’re doing on a day to day basis. Spot’ll do some nonsense involving a good threat or two to scare the guy off. This sort of thing happens once a month, but Brooklyn always ends up on top. Always.

That hasn’t seemed to sway Race, though. Last time he tried this, one of the other Brooklyn generals was in a fighting mood and nearly left the blond with a black eye had you not stepped in and put a stop to the scuffle before it started. No one needed any more trouble when you’ve already got so much as is, or so you claimed.

Truth be told, you’re not really sure why you helped Race out. It’s not like you’ve got any particular fondness for the guy, he keeps bothering you whenever he sneaks over the turf boundaries. It’s like he has a sixth sense for figuring out where you are whenever you’re selling papes. Even when you tell him to bug off and leave you alone, he’ll just start selling half a block down from you, or right across the street. Just close enough that you can see the trademark grin on his face when you roll your eyes and do your best to ignore him.

At the end of the day, it’s not something that should be the pull of too much of your attention. It’s Race, for goodness’ sake, not a rogue Delancey brother or someone who could actually cause you grief. Race just wants to make you laugh, which is weird of him to do but not actually dangerous.

Dangerous is the rest of Brooklyn. Dangerous is what waits for Race when he’s not halfway in your shadow. Dangerous is what made you Spot Conlon’s second in command when there were so many other newsies vying for the title. You know dangerous, and you know how to handle it, how to keep your boys safe. That’s what you should be focusing on the most, not errant Manhattan newsboys who keep getting alarmingly close to making you crack a smile.

But. Well. It is easier to think of boys than trouble. Boys try to make you laugh, for the most part. They don’t come back under the cover of the dead of night, bloody and trembling, talking to you about cops and thugs busting up strikes, about workers from the Refuge who want to brazenly take kids off the street just so they can keep up their numbers. They didn’t always.

Then they did, and suddenly you weren’t quite so easy with your temper and gait anymore. Race was usually quick to a smile, a laugh, a joke. He’d offer you a cigar free of charge, then swear like a sailor at any other boy who tried to even look at his prized possession. You were different, he didn’t want to trouble you. 

So he said. Didn’t stop him from hanging outside your window until you climbed onto your fire escape just to get him to stop throwing pebbles at the dusty glass. You might have spent more than an hour outside that night, and the next one, and the next, but it was only so he’d let the others rest. You falling asleep on his shoulder at least once, then waking to find his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, was pure coincidence.

Race was always carefree. It was his job, you think, his role to play amongst the Manhattan newsies, just as yours was to keep track of your Brooklyn kids. Race used to tease you relentlessly about how the Brooklyn newspaper distribution system would completely grind to a standstill if you so much as got a cold.

It wasn’t entirely a joke, it was true. Race knew it. The two of you could hardly talk for longer than ten minutes before a boy or twelve would come up to you, asking for help on something else. He saw how long you faked your smiles just for the happy expression to start fading into an exhausted sigh whenever no one was around but him. You liked your position in the newsie ranks, truly you did, but it drained everything from you.

Sometimes it felt like it was just you and Spot fighting a losing war trying to keep all of your boys out of trouble. You teach them to be tough and loud and unapproachable, but it will never be enough? How could it be, in this city? Race tells his jokes and you laugh and you try not to pretend that everything is falling to ribbons. At least then you could marvel at the colors.

Still. Race stayed. Longer than you expected, in all honesty. You kept waiting for him to have his fun and leave you to your city that never sleeps, but he came around and it felt more natural by the day. Instead of being surprised that he showed up, you started feeling confused if a week went by without you seeing him.

And, when two newsies come to Brooklyn from Manhattan talking about a strike, and neither one of them is Race but both of them need your help anyway, you listen. More than Spot, at least. Spot gets wind of trouble and he shuts down their plea in an instant. Despite the fact that you think this is the best chance any of you will have to change something around here, Spot can’t risk his guys.

You never know when someone will back out without telling you, he tells you later, and then all of you would be stuck out there on the front lines without backup. The ace without the sleeve up which to hide. Brooklyn kids are tough, and they wouldn’t run, but who knows a damn thing about anyone else?

It made you want to scream and cry and run out there anyway, just to prove a point. You heard how the strike went later, how no one showed up except the Manhattan boys because no other borough would come without Brooklyn’s express approval. You catch whispers and threads of the story, but you don’t learn the whole thing until Race shows up.

He’s alone this time, beaten and bruised. You flinch when you see him, even though he’s not swinging. The look in his eyes, though– that’s enough to leave you bloody.

Race puts a hand on your shoulder. The knuckles are bruised, and you try not to notice the spatterings of skin already turning a mottled purple and green. “It’s not your fault. Jackie boy told me you tried to convince Spot to join us.”

You frown, look away. “You got hurt and we could have done something. That sounds an awful lot like I failed.”

Race shakes his head, puts a hand on your cheek so you have to look at him again. “I’m not here for that. This isn’t your fault, it’s his. Pulitzer’s. Him and those damn thugs. Not you.”

You nod slowly. It’ll take some time before you’re able to absolve yourself of the guilt, but you can try. “Let me get my first aid kit, I’ll come back with you, try to patch some of the kids up. Can I assume that a lot of them are worse than you?”

Race’s expression drops. “Yeah. The thugs came hitting pretty hard.”

“Well,” you say in an attempt to cheer him up, “I’d wager it’s because they knew your lot were the toughest around.”

Race cracks a smile, even though you’re sure it must be painful. “Oh, absolutely. I’d topple a building with a single punch.”

You can’t help but cast another worried look towards his hands. Damaged, bruised, and they had tipped his cap towards you just a morning or two ago. Race always liked to playact a gentleman when you were around. As if any of you have money or morals to spare. The only mansion you’ve got is the wide sky above you, the expensive habits of running too fast on green grass. Your gold is a rusty coin or two, your finery hand-me-down clothes. Your mockery of manners is the closest you’ll get to that sort of lifestyle, but it was always fun to fake it, anyway.

“No more punches,” you tell him. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Race retorts, “we’ve got to be out there again tomorrow for the strike. We’se not giving up so easily.”

The thought makes your stomach twist. Race, back out there, ready to get dealt another blow. Maybe this time he won’t be able to pick himself up so easily. Maybe this time he won’t be able to pick himself up at all.

No. You won’t let it happen. This is still your city, damn it, and you have not spent all these years sweating out your sunrises and sunsets to keep it informed just for the last bits of your control to be ripped out from between your desperate fingers.

“You won’t be alone tomorrow,” you decide, “I’ll get Spot to join you.”

Race frowns. “Jack and Davey tried that already, I thought. He said no. Isn’t Spot a dead end at this point? Unless there’s something else you know to change his mind.”

You sigh. “You’re not wrong. I talked to him, though, after your boys left yesterday. I tried. As much as anyone can try to talk to Spot, y’know. I’ll try again, though. The choice he made was–” There are a lot of words you could attribute to Spot’s decision to stay out of the strike. Stupid. Pointless. Backstabbing. You end up saying something a little more polite. “Not what I agreed with, to say the least.”

Race’s lips quirk up in a half smile. “Glad to hear it. I always liked it best when you were on our side.”

You snort. “I’se a Brooklyn newsie, remember? I don’t think we was ever on the same side.”

Race shrugs. “Maybe not in a turf war, but other times we got along just fine.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Race grins, leans a little closer to you. It feels like your whole world is tunneling– you can look at his eyes or his lips, but not both, and it’s enough to make you dizzy. “The last month or two, I swear you almost liked me. Sure, you’re a tough girl if anyone asks, but I know what I know.”

“And what do you know?” You ask carefully. It takes every fiber of focus in your being to keep breathing, chasing every word he says like a high price headline.

Race tilts his head to the side, considering this. Considering you. “I know that you’ve been hanging around me more and more. I know that you aren’t trying to run anymore. I know that no Brooklyn newsie sticks their neck out for someone from ‘Hattan unless they’ve got a pretty good reason. Most importantly, I know that I want to kiss you, but only if you want that too. Do you?”

He’s so close to you now, practically a breath away. Just enough room for you to run if you wanted to, but also for you to do something else, something you’ve been thinking about even when you swore you wouldn’t.

“I do,” you breathe, and that’s all Race needs to lean forward and kiss you at last. He tastes like blood and foolish hope and promises you know he’ll always keep. It’s a damn good mix, enough to make you kiss him again when he starts to break away.

This is how you keep him safe, then. You love him too much and you convince Spot to lend Brooklyn’s support by hook or by crook. You defend the strike and you defend your boy. There are a hundred reasons this could all go wrong, but thousands, thousands more, that all shout for you to keep going. 

Well, you’ve always liked a little bit of danger. Race is good trouble, and you are well inclined to keep him.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @mayfieldss, @amortensie

[slotmachines-fearofgod]

the second chapter of my ahsoka and cody thing should be coming out soon but i wanted to give the crowd a lil sneak peek! shorter than last time, but it’s under the cut for whoever’s interested :)

Ahsoka nodded respectfully before asking, “What is it you needed?”

“Ah,” Cody straightened further, something Ahsoka hadn’t realized was possible until he did it, “I just wanted to offer any sort of advice to you for your stay with us. I recognize you and Captain Rex are close, and he asked that I keep an eye on you. So I suppose... let me know if you need anything.”

Huh.

Okay.

That was unexpected, but she could roll with it.

“You mean like we become friends?” She teased a little bit, smiling with just a little more teeth than normal, “And here I thought you hated friends.”

Cody huffed in mild amusement, “I have friends.”

“You have subordinates,” Ahsoka pushed, testing the waters, “But friends...”

Cody shot her a glare before seeming to remember that he was trying to be professional, “The general and I are good friends. And I’ve made a few on our travels here and there.”

Ahsoka laughed brightly, giving up her facade, “Well in that case, I’m honored to be a part of that circle.”

She felt the Force twitch around Cody again, but it felt less stilted than last time. More natural, less like he was trying to hold back. She’d have to figure out how he did that.

“You had Rex’s vote of confidence,” Cody said, “That’s good enough for me.” Ahsoka’s smile turned a little softer, “He’s a good man.”

“One of the best,” Cody agreed quietly.

Ahsoka was worried about him. And everyone else, of course, but Rex was...well he was Rex. Before even Anakin came around to the idea of having a padawan on board, Rex was laughing at her jokes and showing her the basis of command.

“How did you two meet?” Ahsoka asked. She’d never heard the story from Rex, had never really thought to ask to be honest, but she knew it was long before Rex had ever heard her name.

Cody was still for a moment, likely debating his choices, before saying, “That’s a story for another time. Preferably one when he’s here with us.”

Right. Not exactly friends yet.

Ahsoka dropped it as her comm chimed with a reminder that she needed to head out soon.

“Shall we walk to the meeting together?” Cody offered, holding out an arm like she was some sort of princess. It made her laugh though, and even with his helmet on she could see the tension slowly bleeding out of his frame.

“Of course,” Ahsoka pretended to curtsy before hopping over to where Cody stood and looping their arms together, “Thank you Commander.”

“Of course Commander.”

The air between them was lighter as they walked to the board room. Ahsoka knew that even for her teasing, being friends wasn’t exactly what Cody had offered. It was a start, though she wondered if it was of his own volition or if he truly was only doing it because Rex asked.

She hoped it was the former.

Cody was a good enough resource on his own, but with the added bonus of respect from someone that her men widely regarded as one of the toughest vode out there, getting close to him certainly had its perks. Plus, she felt...safe with him. Not necessarily secure, since he was virtually unreadable both emotionally and in the Force, but she knew that for as long as she was with the 212th, he’d look out for her if nothing else than for Rex’s sake.

She just wished she knew what was going on inside his head.

[bluedalahorse]

Updates below the cut, as I expressed the story of yesterday in somewhat comedic terms, but I’m sure the subtext was concerning.

So yesterday I went into work under a lot of stress about the various deadlines I have to meet. I also noticed I was developing an ear infection. I get those a lot because I have tiny ear canals and sometimes with congestion from fall allergies the whole ENT system gets fucked up. As such I know what an ear infection feels like, so I figured I’d leave work early, go to the urgent care down the road, get some antibiotics, and go home to rest and meet my writing deadline.

Well, I went to the urgent care and after waiting three hours or so they were like, you have an ear infection but your blood pressure is super high, and we need to send you to the ER to lower it. (I have a family history, and with the amount of stress I’ve been under lately, I imagine genetics decided it was time to kick in.) I was freaking out at that point because I hadn’t had dinner yet, and what they were talking about sounded like… idk, how long was I gonna be in the hospital? Forever? And that shit is expensive even with insurance, so, you know.

So I asked if I could call @coruscantrhapsody to come get me. I knew I needed to go to the ER but also that I didn’t want to go, and that I would try to get out of it because I was scared and tired and yet try to make myself appear competent at all costs. I also knew she could convince me to go. So she came to me at the urgent care right away, and she brought plush Sara and plush August, and we made plans to go to the ER together.

And honestly, she got me through it like a champ. We coped through silly jokes and dark humor, and a little bit of singing of Disney songs. When the nurse took my blood sample (which came back in good shape, thankfully) she said it was totally appropriate for Halloween. Then she got me home before midnight and now is working from home today while I stay home. I’ll probably be taking tomorrow off too. I’m going to walk to the pharmacy soon to pick up the meds they prescribed me and then I’m going to come back home and not deal with logistics until the afternoon at least.

I still have some deadlines to meet, but they’re going to be shifting now and I think I can get some extensions for the stuff I need to get extended on. And I think this is the basis of a conversation with my employer about like. Idk. I woke up today 95% grateful for the people who love and care for me and who helped me out yesterday, and I’m also grateful that I lucked out with doctors and nurses that night because the medical system is honestly terrible, but 5% of me is like Fuck The Grind that got me here. You know? And I can sort of bookmark that idea and come back to it when I’m ready. Which I will do. But first, it is time to rest. I can deal with everything else after I rest. And I got home in time to listen to the old War of the Worlds radio play tonight and enjoy it, and that’s incredibly important to me.

Tl;dr I spent an evening in the emergency room last night, hooked up to machines and holding an August Horn plushie in my lap, but I’m ok now thanks to my best friend’s care and all-around amazingness.

[ajpendragon]

A Joyful Heart

A groan on his right woke him, forcing him to lift his head to see who it was. John lay next to him, his wrists bound, clearly having just woken up from the same uncomfortable sleep that Gordon had. “Hey, Johnny. How’s it going?”

“Really?” John rolled his eyes at his younger brother. “How’s it going? That’s the best thing you can think of to ask?”

“Just trying to keep it light. Humor helps in uncomfortable situations.”

“I wish whoever invented that saying would recant their statement immediately. You’ve taken it far too much to heart.” Despite John’s protests, Gordon knew that he was right. The joking had distracted him from the chafing on his wrists and give them both a much needed burst of hope.

“How are you feeling?”

Gordon pushed himself upright, taking a quick inventory of his body. “I’ll live. I feel a bit foggy from whatever drugs they gave us, but it’s getting better. I still have my watch on, too.”

John frowned. Everyone that they encountered on a regular basis knew that their watches had trackers in them, and would have taken it off at the first opportunity. Which meant that they were dealing with an unknown threat this time. Gordon nearly laughed at John’s thinking face, but then he suddenly doubled over gasping for breath, his face screwed up in pain.

“John?”

“I’m alright. I seem to be reacting to whatever they drugged us with, but I think I’ll live. It’s just making it hard to think. My head is killing me.”

Gordon wedged his shoulder under John’s to leverage him up, staying close to give his brother some much needed support. “We’ll get out of here soon, and then we’ll figure out what they gave you. It’s probably something only nerd’s are allergic to, so it’s not bothering me.”

John tried to roll his eyes, but the pain left him breathless again, and he settled back down on his brother’s shoulder. “Ok.” He whispered.

Gordon was worried now. It wasn’t like John to not have a sassy comeback. The drugs must be affecting him more than he let on.

The door creaked open, and a man stepped into the room. They had never seen him before, which was both reassuring and concerning. It always helped in this sort of situation to know what they were dealing with, but it being someone new meant they might be able to get away with things their normal antagonists would be expecting. “Mr. Tracy.”

Both of them looked up. “Yes?”


The man in front of them sighed, seemingly discouraged at their response.

“What do you want?” Gordon demanded.

“Money, obviously.”

“Why, don’t you have any of your own?”

John huffed a laugh at his brother’s joke. Unfortunately, their new acquaintance seemed to find it less funny, as he stepped forward and backhanded Gordon across the face. His lip split, blood dripping down his chin.

“I have plenty of money. How dare you imply that I don’t?”

“Well, if you have plenty of money, why do you want ours?”

“I-I don’t-“ He sputtered. “I kidnapped you for ransom.”

“So I assumed.” John muttered dryly, as Gordon choked on the blood filling his mouth, spitting it onto the ground in front of him.

Their kidnapper bent over him, fisting his hand in Gordon’s hair and pulling his head back painfully. “Do you need to catch your breath?” He asked sarcastically.

“Only from laughing at you.”

John tried to shush his brother before he made things worse. It was too late, however, and their kidnapper struck Gordon across the face again, opening up another cut over his eyebrow. John was knocked off Gordon’s shoulder, and attempted to right himself, but only managed to make himself fall over faster. His head hit the floor loudly, and he groaned, falling limp.

“John!” Gordon exclaimed, trying to lift his brother back up. “Untie me.” He demanded. “I need to help him. Please.” Gordon pulled frantically at his bonds, desperately trying to get to his brother.

Their captor untied the knots, looking genuinely concerned, and Gordon turned immediately to his brother, lifting his head off the ground and checking for blood, fingers feeling for a pulse. He sighed with relief when he found it, weak and irregular, but still there.

“He’s reacting to whatever you drugged us with. If we can’t get it out of his system soon, it might be too late. What did you give him?”

“It was the same thing I gave you. It shouldn’t have hurt him. I just knew I had to give him twice as much as I gave you, because of the hair.”

Gordon stared at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”

“You know.” The man gestured wildly. “Ginger’s require more anesthetic?”

Gordon was livid. “You gave him a double dose of a sedative just because he’s a ginger? That might be true for anesthetic, but even then they start at the normal dose and work up. He’s as skinny as a stick and he spends half his time in space, you could have given him a half dose and he would have been knocked out!”

The man looked honestly remorseful. “I didn’t know. I thought-“

He was cut off by Kayo bursting through the door, Scott hot on her heels. She knelt down on the other side of John, leaving Scott to deal with their kidnapper, who backed into the corner and surrendered as soon as they entered.

“What’s going on?” She asked quietly, stepping in to help.

“Double dose of sedative. He was doing okay up until a couple minutes ago, when he just passed out.”

“Breathing?”

“Steady, for now, but shallow. Pulse is weak, and inconsistent. We need to get him out of here. We don’t have the equipment to deal with an overdose like this in here.”

“Agreed. Thunderbird Two is outside. The medbay is prepped and ready for him. We weren’t sure what we were walking into, so we made sure to have everything on standby.”

Gordon slid his arms under his brother, lifting him up. Shifting his head onto his shoulder, he slowly stood and walked out of the room, Kayo following close behind. He could feel John’s weak breath on his neck, and hastened his steps as fast as he safely could.

They reached Two sooner than he had thought possible, Gordon moving to settle John gently into the bed. Kayo moved smoothly around him, ready with an oxygen mask by the time he put his brother down. She quickly attached the mask as Gordon secured the many monitors to his body.

When they finished, Gordon settled himself heavily onto the next bed. His hands were shaking, breath coming fast. He seemed to have forgotten in his worry over his brother that he was also injured. Kayo took a last look at the monitors around John before pulling out some gauze and rubbing alcohol and coming over to Gordon.

She cleaned the cut on his lip gently, setting aside the used supplies to stick a few butterfly bandages across the split. The cut over his eye received the same treatment. Finished, she took his hands in hers. He hadn’t moved throughout the whole process, aside from his shaking hands, which worried her. “Hey. It’s okay. You did good. He’s going to be alright. You’re out.”

She sat next to him on the bed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, just sitting with him in silence for a few minutes until the machines surrounding John started beeping. They both jumped to their feet, hurrying over to the other bed.

John’s breathing had shallowed, his body completely limp and unmoving. They secured the oxygen mask even tighter and upped the flow, pumping air into his lungs. “What do we do?” Gordon asked, reaching for his brother’s hand.

“You know as well as I do. Keep him breathing, keep him comfortable. It will wear off soon enough.”

“I hate this. I hate not being able to do anything. I hate it.”

“I know. We’ll be out of here in a few minutes, and Virgil said you were to fly Two home. He was very unhappy we left without him. He made Scott promise to keep well below the max speed of Two.”

“I’m impressed he even let him fly in the first place.”

Kayo winked at him. “I was given strict instructions to watch him the entire flight.”

Gordon laughed, just as Scott came marching into the medbay, settling himself at John’s bedside. “You’re flying us home?”

“Yep!” Gordon replied brightly. His smile was clearly forced, although Scott, already bending over John, didn’t notice. He headed briskly up to the cockpit, Kayo on his heels. Running quickly through the preflight checks, he had the plane up in the air as fast as possible. As soon as they were headed home, he opened the comms down to the medbay. “How’s he doing, Scott?”

“Still stable. He just needs to sleep it off now. We’ll get him to bed when we get home, and he’ll be fine.”

If Virgil knew the speeds Gordon was pushing his ‘bird to, he might have regretted letting him fly. Gordon didn’t have the same experience flying her as Virgil, but he knew how to get the best speeds from her, and Kayo was an able copilot. They didn’t talk much on the flight back. Kayo could tell Gordon needed some time to process, although he probably wouldn’t admit it if she asked. She turned on some quiet ocean sounds over the speakers, and watched as Gordon visibly relaxed into his seat.

Virgil was there when they landed, following John’s bed the best he could while on crutches. “What happened?” It was clear how hard it had been for him to be stuck at home when his brothers had needed help, so no one thought to scold him.

“He’s doing fine, Virgil.” Kayo reassured, Scott and Gordon already in the elevator halfway to the infirmary. “He just needs to sleep it off now.” She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Let’s get you sitting down again. You’re not really supposed to be up yet. We don’t need you to injure yourself again.”

They reached the infirmary at the same time as Scott and Gordon finished attaching the last of the monitors to John’s skin. She helped Virgil settle on a nearby bed, then turned to Gordon, who had not moved from his unconscious brother’s side. “We made it back. He’s going to be fine now.”

Gordon mustered up a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Kayo. I think I’m just going to stay here for a bit anyways. I’ll feel better being able to see him.”

That they all understood. There had been too many times they had been forced to watch someone they loved collapse injured from the life they led, and the fear never really got easier to deal with. They just learned how to cope with it better. Gordon settled into a chair at John’s bedside as Kayo delivered pain pills to Virgil and ushered (pushed) Scott out of the room. She attached an oxygen monitor to Gordon’s finger on her way out. “Just in case.” She said. “You did get drugged too. Don’t make me deal with both of you.”

“I won’t.” Gordon promised. The room settled into silence. Virgil quickly fell asleep, his soft snores and the quiet beep of John’s equipment the only sounds in the room.

When Gordon awoke, the crick in his neck told him he had been out for a few hours. He rolled his neck back and forth to work out the kinks, and then realized John was staring at him, aquamarine eyes open, but slightly unfocused. “Hey, John. How you doing?”

“Like I got hit by a truck. Everything is hard to move. And my head is throbbing.”

“I’m sorry. I know it sucks.” Gordon said sincerely. “You just need to go back to sleep. That will give you time to burn the last of the drugs out of your system. I can’t give you anything for the headache yet. I wish I could, but we don’t know how your body would react right now.” Gordon reached out and began to run his hand through John’s hair.

John shut his eyes again, sighing in relief. “That helps. Don’t stop.” He cracked one eyelid back open to glare at his brother. “What were you thinking back there? Antagonizing the person holding you prisoner is not usually the recommended technique.”

“Well, I didn’t see you coming up with any better ideas.”

“I was drugged and basically unconscious! I could barely remember my own name, let alone come up with a plan to get us out of there.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I had to come up with the plan by myself. And you know what they say. ‘A good joke is the best weapon in the world.’”

“No one says that!”

“I say it, so it definitely counts.”

John didn’t answer, and when Gordon looked back down, he was already asleep. Gordon took a moment to enjoy having everyone home safe. People often accused him of being immature, or of never taking anything seriously. He knew that’s what it looked like from the outside, but it couldn’t be farther from the truth. He was fully aware of the seriousness of what they did and the risks they took on a daily basis. But he also refused to allow it to bring him down. His family already bore enough weight. Allowing himself to wallow in fear would accomplish nothing but bring them all down. So he took it upon himself to keep the family’s spirits up with well-timed jokes and pranks. Even if it didn’t feel like much, it was something he could do to help.

And he did it well.