#punch needle stim

[luck-duo]

looking at u w my big eyes………….. daisyduo stimboard 🥺 ?

daisyduo stimboard!! 🌼 didn’t have any art of them on hand so the hand holding will have to do….

x x x

x x x

x x x

[nanmo-wakaran]

jiji

[alastors-stim-broadcast]

x x x / x x x / x x x

my friend made me get all obsessed with hoziers new EP so now I'm subjecting him to stimboards. look at my stimboard boy /ref

[shootingstarpilot]

you know what you should do to celebrate hawai'i, mermay, and the return of dracula daily?

whump helix. \:D/

(no i don't know what that has to do with any of the aforementioned celebrations but you should do it anyway)

...

You know what, you're absolutely right.

And it just so happens that I was researching adrenaline poisoning for COMPLETELY UNRELATED REASONS yesterday, and, well- Helix does seem like the type, doesn't he?

Helix hasn't slept in five days.

For the first three, admittedly, it was because of the clean-up.

Dukov had been rough. The intel from the Senate had been so bad he'd overheard Crys theorizing that maybe they'd intercepted a Seppie briefing instead, right before a sniper had nearly taken his arm off at the shoulder. Three days of mainlining stims until the situation had gone from cataclysmic to merely chaotic. Three days until both Needle and Stitch could get a few hours' sleep, after Helix's own customized blend of reassurance and orders had sent them to bed with minimal resistance.

He was feeling far too twitchy to sleep, anyway.

The next day had been the flimsiwork. His least favorite bit, and it had been easy to reach for another stim from his own stash. Just to power through.

(Besides. The others would get pissy if he finished off the unit's stockpile.)

He sets the last datapad aside and rubs absently at his forehead.

The headache is multiplying, and frustration grows with it.

A twitchy agitation pushes him to his feet and out of his office to find Needle splinting a sprained wrist, poking gentle fun at the blushing shiny whose name he cannot for the life of him remember. The sudden burst of irritation at the sound of Needle's snorting laugh takes him by surprise, and for a moment all he can do is blink owlishly at the pair until Needle glances up.

"Helix!" he exclaims, unfairly delighted, and Helix scowls at him reflexively. "Emerged from your lair at last? Hope you had a good nap-"

"Get some sleep when you're done with that," Helix snaps. "I'll take first shift."

"Stitch is already sleeping, I sent him off an hour ago-"

"Then join him. Get some rest. You should know better than to not take advantage of the opportunity."

Hypocrite, a little voice whispers. Helix squashes it mercilessly, stalking out of the medbay without waiting to hear Needle's response.

Gym. Yeah. That sounds good. He's spent too long sitting in front of a datapad today; he needs to work this twitchiness out.

Then caf, if he's gonna be on shift. Needle and Stitch need the rest.

(He's pretty sure he'd stashed another stim in his gym bag, too.)

And the night... passes.

His datapad never beeps.

Helix hammers at a punching bag until nausea begins to rise, at which point he realizes that he can't quite remember the last time he ate something, and- because he's a responsible medic- heads for the mess.

More time had passed than he'd realized, apparently. The mess is still empty, but there are lights on in the kitchen, and he can hear Terror's muffled shouting as he snags a ration bar off the all-hours table and makes his way out. They'll probably be seeing someone else in the medbay soon enough, if Terror's that loud this early, and he gulps down the ration bar before jabbing another stim into his neck.

Damn it.

The nausea hasn't abated by the time he reaches the medbay doors. He scowls at the wall for a moment, remembers to inhale, and kicks the door open to make himself feel better.

"You look like shit."

When did Needle get here?

Helix can't quite find the answer, but Needle's sure as hell here now- right in front of him, brow furrowed, and blocking his way to the caf machine.

"Move."

"No," Needle says blithely, and before Helix can react to that stunning indignity, warm fingers are curling around his wrist. He stills instinctively, and Needle graces him with a quirked smile before returning his attention to his pulse.

"Tachycardic," he sighs, dropping Helix's hand. "Consider me unsurprised, Dukov was bad. How much have you slept?"

Helix elects for the time-honored tradition of saying nothing.

"...Have you slept?"

Time-honored traditions have to start somewhere.

"All right," Needle says, and Helix isn't sure what happens next- only that suddenly Needle's arm is wrapped around his waist, and they're moving further down the medbay, and then he's sitting on a mattress he doesn't remember seeing-

"You know the drill," Needle informs him, and oh, yes, right, Needle's here too, isn't he? "Start coughing. I'll give you thirty seconds before I start a line-"

Then something clatters at the entrance to the medbay.

"Hello?" asks a wavering voice, and Needle swears under his breath.

"You," he says, poking Helix's nose, "stay right here. I'm just gonna triage, I will be right back. Keep coughing."

Helix glares at his retreating back until Needle vanishes around the corner.

Then it's just him.

There was- something he was supposed to be doing, right?

Yes. Tachycardic, Needle had said- cold packs can help, he knows. The vagus nerve. Right.

But Needle's gone.

He levers himself up and heads for the supply closet, ignoring the way the nausea sloshes in the pit of his stomach.

He steps inside. Flicks the light on.

And promptly vomits all the way down the front of his scrubs.

Something twigs at last.

"Well," he says eloquently, "fuck me."

That is the last thing he remembers for some time.

"You," a voice announces, "are such a bastard."

"Mmph."

"No, no, you don't get to do that. You're awake, I need answers, and to be frank I'm not feeling particularly merciful, you absolute- no. Okay. Name."

"..."

"Helix."

"That."

"I- fine. Nauseous?"

Helix takes a moment to assess.

"No."

"Jittery?"

He curls his fingers into a fist, testing.

"No. Jus' tired."

He can hear a steady beeping at his left, and waves in its vague direction. "Turn that off."

"The fuck I will," Needle snaps. "Consequences of your actions, boss, you're gonna have to deal with it. Where's your stockpile? I checked our stash, you didn't take enough from there to trigger this."

Helix pries his eyes open. Needle is standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, scowling at him.

"Not telling."

A muscle in Needle's jaw jumps.

"Stitch?"

The expression on Stitch's face when he peers around the corner is one of naked relief.

"Yes, Needle?"

"You're on Helix duty. Make sure he doesn't get out of bed, otherwise I'll have to kill him. I'm gonna tear his office apart."

"Tear my-"

"If you'd cooperate," Needle says, with gritted-teeth cheer, "then I wouldn't have to. But since you don't seem to appreciate the fact that you overdosed on your own stims, it looks like I'll have to do it myself."

He's gone before Helix can muster a response.

Stitch, meanwhile, has apparently taken Needle's threat to heart. He climbs onto the bed and splays starfish-style across Helix, wriggling up until they're nose-to-nose, and Helix's burgeoning indignation evaporates in the face of Stitch's too-wet eyes.

They stare at each other for a long moment, and then Stitch lets out a little sigh and tucks his face into the crook of Helix's neck.

Helix gives up considering standing.

"What happened?"

"Epinephrine overdose," comes the muffled reply. Inside his office, something bangs against the wall. "Needle found you in the closet. You were covered in vomit."

His scrubs are clean.

Stitch lifts his face and rests his forehead against Helix's. "Ventricular tachycardia," he says quietly, and Helix breathes out. "You went into v-fib. He had to shock you to get you back."

His face screws up before smoothing out with an all-too-familiar caution, and Helix, aching, rests a hand between his shoulder blades. "I was getting breakfast. Needle did it all by himself. You came back same time I did."

Another crashing sound. Something splinters.

"You should apologize," Stitch says sternly, and Helix chokes out a laugh.

"'m sorry, Stitch," he says, and tries his best to squeeze the hand Stitch is holding. "I didn't mean to."

"High epinephrine levels can compromise rational decision-making," Stitch informs him. "I know."

"If I promise not to get up, will you move?"

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, but-"

"Mm. Then no."

"Stitch-"

"Deep pressure therapy lowers heart rate."

"Is that what this is?"

"Yes."

"Not a hug?"

"That comes second."

"Okay, Stitch," Helix sighs. Deep pressure therapy or a hug, whatever it is- it's working.

He's asleep in less than a minute.

When he dips briefly back into the waking world, he can feel the dip in the mattress.

"Stims are taped to the bottom of my desk drawer," he says quietly.

"I know," Needle mutters.

Silence.

"How's my desk?"

"I'll get you a new one."

Another, longer silence.

Fabric shifts as Needle leans back, folding his arms across his chest. "I'll be keeping count."

"Okay."

Helix twists his head to the side, peering upwards.

Needle is staring at the wall.

"You don't have to get me a new desk," he offers.

"You're shit at apologies, you know."

Helix falls silent.

Then Needle sighs, too loud in the dull lights of the night shift, and Helix sees a wry smile twist across his face.

"Go back to sleep," he says, "and I won't ask for one."

Helix obligingly closes his eyes, and for once, doesn't say anything scathing when Needle's hand settles on his forehead.

Wait. One thing-

"Hey," he mutters sleepily. "At least now you know what it's like."

"What?"

But Helix is already asleep.

[triforce-of-mischief]

sensory ask game! Legend + literally every/any number you want to discuss :)

1. (A sound they find soothing): Ravio's silly nonsense songs

2. (A sound they find irritating): Blades being sharpened (years of practice and it still gets on his nerves)

3. (One or two prized possessions they often hold in their hands): Moosh once Sun gives him to Legend

4. (Something they always carry with them): Ravio's bracelet

5. (Any stims, nervous habits, or things they do when they're super focused?): Fidgeting with rings

6. (What's their favorite color to wear?): Red or blue

7. (Which outfit do they feel the most at home in?): The most mismatched variety of protective clothes possible. Pants are bad sensory

8. (Who do they feel most comfortable hugging/being hugged by?): Ravio, Warriors, Red

9. (Favorite way to be touched?): Gentle touches around his ears, being held

10. (Something about their physical appearance they're embarrassed about): Pink streak in his hair (on bad days)

11. (Something about their physical appearance they love): He thinks his violet eyes are pretty cool

12. (What's their morning routine?): Coffee

13. (What's their evening routine?): More coffee Journaling

14. (Favorite foods?): Apple pie

15. (Favorite drinks?): Apple juice

16. (An object that comforts or calms them): Moosh again

17. (Any destructive habits when they're angry?): He relies too much on his Punch Ring

18. (What's something they love to create with their own two hands? Which creation are they most proud of?): Little origami creatures

19. (What makes them have to leave the room because they're overwhelmed?): Discussion of needles (on a bad day)

20. (A song that instantly transports them back to a certain memory): Ballad of the Windfish

21. (What is their favorite kind of weather, and why?): Sunny with a hint of clouds, it's perfect adventuring weather

22. (Do they have a place they retreat to when they want to get away from everyone/everything?): Granny Syrup's hut

23. (What's their favorite color or color combo for decor?): Red

24. (Are they clumsy?): Only when nervous; years of experience have steadied his hands

25. (Their favorite scent): Apple blossoms

26. (Describe their favorite chair (or any piece of furniture that's their favorite): He likes curling up in the corner of a couch

27. (Are they afraid of heights?): A little

28. (Do they have any sensory triggers related to past trauma?): The sound of knights' armor, the smell of rubbing alcohol, anything related to the ocean or storms (on bad days)

29. (Is there a certain object they tend to hold/fidget with?): Ravio's bracelet or Moosh or his rings

30. (Which other character do they find most irritating (or distracting) to be around?): Wild

31. (Which other character do they find the most restful to be around?): Warriors, Red, Hyrule, Ravio

32. (What is their ideal work environment in terms of light, sounds, other people, etc.?): Well lit, specifically chosen music, one or two other people

33. (Describe their workspace, if they have one): He only has once small desk in his room that he rarely uses

34. (What type of gift do they most like to receive?): Anything that can be useful

35. (How do they feel about holidays?): He loves learning about and celebrating new traditions

[liliallowed]

Honestly if Crimson could feel I would hug them and then punch them as hard as I could. Or the other way around it depends how recently they were being evil little gremlin. I might just poke them in the eyes too for measure. Tho if they could feel I think I would feel bad for hurting them too much.

I imagine at first they'd be extremely hyper sensitive to EVERYTHING and get over stimmed... then slowly adjust.

they'd jump at every slight poke you made of them. it felt like tiny needles. it felt so... unexpected.

they probably would be too scared to try anything. it's not because they feared death. no they were unfamiliar to pain. it was new and anything new set off danger alarms in their brain.

eventually they might tolerate you giving them a pat in the back or hugging them...

poking them in the eye will probably get you stabbed though. they have their soul on fight or flight mode 24/7 and if they were a cat they'd be in the spikey hair pose stressed af constantly.

it's like... having constant chills on your back. all the time.

they REALLY don't like unexpected touching. if you want a hug, tell them before hand.

if they know what they're bracing for though... that will help.

they... don't understand why it feels like that when you hug them.

how their fighting flame is just snuffed out. it's warm. it's soft... safe. it's... real. it's real. it's real. they can FEEL your hand with their fingertips... they might grip a bit hard... to test. to make sure.

they'd probably break into a sob not understanding what this feeling is or why they're feeling it.

they don't understand.

why?

[marauderswolf22]

okay so im gathering all my emotional strength to tell my school psychologist of my suspicions that i might be autistic, and i wanted to ask some autistic people here if you make these things too? mainly, if those things are stimming? but most of them im sure are and im kind of doccumenting or sharing them (I JUST YAPP OK?)

there are 20+ points in this so i've made this sweet thing to make it look more sensible

many times a day my left leg stands straight, but my right one bends a little, makes little jumps. it's always in rhythm, i usually do it when i talk to someone

i can hold eye contact, but only with my 3/4 closest people when it's REALLY close (like we're touching noses kind of close). when i try holding it with my teachers i literally am playing a mind game, counting, choosing which direction i have to look at now, it's exhuhasting

i really don't understand non verbal clues. my polish teacher really likes me and often when i ask something, she just gives me a winkle and smiles. and im like ??? and she does additional smaller things when i ask what does she mean, but i don't have a bloody clue

when i was small schedules were so imporant to me (they still are but i mask more). i set myself 21.30 (9.30pm) as the time to go to sleep, even tho my parents were complete fine with me staying up longer. every time i've been 'late' for my bedtime even 5 minutes i was crying and it was so hard i still remember many situations like this

i don't just dance and sing/lipsing to music. i like to 'show' the lyrics with my body and i think it's more than just dancing. and also, seeing my friends enjoying their favourite music, i look like im on some hard drugs in comparison to them lmao

i did this thing that i feel every autistic child did, so when it was loud, i would cover and uncover my ears rhytmically so the sound will do the funny loud-silent-loud-silent thing

i wholeheartedly (is this how you write it? idc) HATE any needles on me. i hate the feeling of something small and 'pointy' on my skin, even a pen

i often just 'dig' my fingers into my skin (not to the point it's painfull, im just playing with it) when im thinking/focused. or just rub my fingers over a specific area of skin, or just scratch myself (my atopic dermatitis 💀). and i often just play with my lip lmao

idk if anyone else does it, but i really often do kind of a 'bubble' filled with air with my mouth and really slowly push the air out? but i've noticed that really recently so i have to look at it closer). while writing this post i've done it about 4/5 times

the uneven shoe laces!!! it drives me mad and i can't walk more than a few steps with them. boots with this little straps and belts are even worse, it feels like it's never even

when i eat, i almost plan it. if i eat, for example meat, potatos and a salad everything must go in order, and the last bite is the most important part. when it's the meat when it was supposed to be potatos i feel unsatisfied and sometimes literally have to have a bite of potato lmao

i also like to 'scretch' (also not to the point when it hurts) my in-between-collarbones (to the center) with my thomb on one side and other fingers on the other. it's always really specific and i do it when im bored/stressed. when the anxiety is higher is kind of softly (or rarely less softly) punch myself with my left fist, on the area of my sternum

the dinosaur hands. i've also discovered this in myself quite recently, and now i see i do it relatively a lot

i also sleep with the hugged-to-the-inside-dinosaur-hands. it's really uncomfy AND really comfy at the same time

i really dislike the feeling of veins. like i make a face even if i touch a more permanent my one (this sentence feels like it does NOT make sense)

anything similar to uneven-freshly cut nails or not smooth wood makes me go insane. that's one of the reasons why i keep my nails naturally pretty long (and i also dislike the feeling of the skin 'below' the nail that is suddenly feeling everything???)

i've already talked about it a few weeks ago, but till about a month ago i was SURE an eye roll is the cartoony eye roll when you do almost/complete full circle. and i learned it's just rapidly looking in a different direction??? what???

i sttrugle to use slang. not lol and stuff, but more recent, trendy things that all my friends already use but i just don't understand. even if i know the deffinition i have no clue how to properly use most of these words.

when my friend says something in a funny way i feel the ultimate need to repeat it. and i think i sometimes use this the incorrect way, when my friend just says something in a different than usual tone. n one has ever corrected me, suggesting that it wasn't meant to be funny, but often no one laughs. but i can't stop doing this!!!

it's the ultimate thing. when i was smaller, a pre-teen, and even now as a teen, i extremly copy the characters i like. it happens just after i've watched/read a piece of media i really like (it can also be for the 1st time), and i really liked a character. i've had one case when i wasn't even a super fan of the character, but it was just the main one and they're really succesful. so, from just after i watched it (or when I AM currently watching it) till the maximum of 5 days later i 'mimick' this character. i see scenarios when i behave like them. i use a similar tone, i have similar mimicry, i imagine myself saying jokes in their style!!! i've never done this in front of anyone else, always in my own room alone, but it was always very strong. it also makes me quite happy sometimes. it happens less often now im more self aware, but when i was smaller sometimes i wasn't fully aware that im doing that.

sooo, i feel like i've oversheared, but i feel alright with it so why should i care? oh and also, to your information, that is NOT everything. i just have no remaining energy to continue the list for now

[xenostims]

꒰ 🌵 ꒱ ↬ ❝ ambroidering ❞

[starrynightstims]

Source

[punchitime]

Random small facts about my OCS that will probably never be brought up again (unless someone asks about them) -

—

Sterling has tics, they're not from tourettes but Ster does have them. They're not sure what they're from but it doesn't happen often enough to really get in the way of something. They're mostly just physical and are small, small enough for Sterling to be able to play them off as stretching, just shivering, or trying to crack their neck. The vocal (which there isn't many of) ones are harder to cover up.

Main ways to "summon" the tics is to talk about tics, Ster thinking about them, or seeing someone else tic. Sterling is just so used to hiding them so by habit they do.

Atlas on the other hand stims a lot, far more often than Sterling anyways. He doesn't bother to hide them (only time he really does is in a boxing match) and does them normally. Most are with his hands/arms

(In the punch out universe, i did not make this irl) Absolutely Ster and Atlas made a TikTok and/or YouTube channel just about daily things for them or just them trying challenges/games for fun. If it's an online game Finn has "guest starred" on more than one occasion

Atlas both wants a tattoo but is silently terrified of needles. And has Thalassophobia (fear of the ocean/deep, open water) and refuses to go out to open water on any kind of small boat

Sterling is actually scared of heights (like high high up heights. If someone picks them up and they're fine even if it's Soda they'll be ok, I mean like "I can probably be VERY injured if I fall" kind of level of height) but they've been acting so "fearless" their whole life for people around them that they just don't let it show much. But… the fear is clear to see if you watch their eyes and breathing specifically.

Finn has Taphophobia (fear of being buried alive), she isn't sure why she has it but she's terrified of the thought.

Atlas falls in love very easily, though will on rare occasions do something about it and at least try to shoot his shot

Finn doesn't as easily but she has had crushes here and there, hit or miss if she does anything about it. Usually keeps quiet about them just in case Aran hears about it (you can't tell me he wouldn't poke some fun at that)

Sterling rarely falls and has FAR less than both Finn and Atlas, but when they do they fall HARD. They're also a silent/"secret" hopeless romantic, though keeps that all to themself

Sterling associates people they know with different songs. Why? They don't know, it's just something they've been doing since they were a kid. Only thing is that they have to know them very well before mentally deciding "their song"

Sterling is a contortionist, and so is their mother (who taught her how to do so). Sometimes Sterling forgets that fact and kinda bends unnaturally to see who called for them.

Most common being someone yelling for Sterling while behind them and they just casually bend completely backwards… usually scares tf out of people by accident (and Ster usually has to reassure them that they're fine and it's normal for them).

All of the trio has so many out of complete context videos of (tbh mainly Sterling) each other doing stupid shit

Absolutely some are videos of Sterling in the boxing ring singing and just someone's scream in the background echoing, making Sterling stop for a few seconds before laughing and stopping the video.

Speaking of which… Atlas and Finn absolutely know the "ghost in the boxing ring" rumor is Sterling, but stays quiet about it because they know Sterling just wants to see how long until someone else realizes it's just Sterling and not an actual ghost.

Sterling actually helps Atlas train by being a appointment. Truth is... is that they sometimes do win the training rounds. Surprise surprise the cameraman DOES know how to box.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

him halting over words and nat gently encouraging him to keep going and assuring him he doesn’t have to be embarrassed and he’s doing well, the baby isn’t judging she just wants to hear chris’s voice. and he can keep going 🥺

CW: Brief reference to past pet whump/noncon, adult illiteracy, some stimming, referenced parental death

Naomi and Natalie are in the kitchen talking over lunch, eating grilled cheese and tomato soup while they plan some kind of party for Miss Ruth that the old woman isn't supposed to know about.

Their voice filter softly through to the living room where Chris sits, legs crossed, humming while lining up a set of blocks from darkest to lightest color. He's already eaten, and so has Kaelah, Naomi's daughter. He could have gone back to his room, but instead he decided to watch Kaelah, and felt himself melt happily when Naomi didn't even hesitate before saying it was okay for him to be alone with her in the living room.

He was never trained for Domestic or Companion work - he was never meant to be wanted for those things, only for one other thing, the thing he never wanted - but he likes kids, and they seem to like him, and he likes that Naomi thinks he is a good person, good enough and smart enough to not hurt something so precious to her.

He's proud, and nervous, and Kaelah has already tried to pull a small pile of books down over her own head. But he caught those before they fell, so he still feels pretty good about it all.

Now, they're playing blocks, although mostly Kaelah is ordering him around while he lines them up. But it's like playing. And lining the blocks up in a perfect row is soothing, and feels good.

It's right for them to line up just so, turned at right angles to each other on the ends.

Kaelah - two years old with frizzy dark curly hair and bright big brown eyes - is watching Chris with rapt fascination as he works. She has a matching unicorn t-shirt and leggings on, and Chris would wear unicorn shirts if there were any in his size.

Or if Jake wore them, because they'd be safe shirts, then.

"Wed," Kaelah says, solemn and demanding, and smacks at a big red block. "Wed, K'iss."

"Red," Chris says, softly, emphasizing the R sound, and taps on the block, then picks it up and adds it to the line. "That's, that's, that's red... red block."

"Wed," Kaelah agrees, and smacks the block again.

"Good, um, good color, good, good color, Kay," Chris says, and finds another red block to place next to the first one. "Reds, reds are good."

Jake is out with Addie, and Antoni let Kauri take him shopping at Kauri's favorite thrift store. Leila is out with who Chris thinks is her boyfriend, not that Leila tells anyone anything ever. It's just Chris and Natalie, Naomi and Kaelah.

The toddler pushes herself to her feet and walks with an unsteady gait back to the big bag that the blocks came from, pulling things out to discard on the floor without looking, clearly on a mission.

Chris watches, head tilted, hair over his eyes. He's been growing his hair longer, and the copper brushes almost to his shoulders. Some days he holds it back with a clip.

Sir would hate his hair this long, but Chris likes it, likes the swoosh of the end of the strands along his skin if he tilts his head just right, the soft weight on the back of his neck so unlike his collar. A weight he can lift just by pulling it back. A weight he controls.

Sir would hate his earrings, too, two black studs punched in his earlobes and then one tiny silver ring up in the shell on the right side. He wants one in the cartilage, too, but he has to work up the courage to look at the needle again.

Kaelah pulls out stuffed ponies in rainbow colors and a brown fuzzy monster with disturbingly real-looking teeth she calls her "ugler friend", a small bag of glow in the dark unicorns in flat green, GI Joe's, a firetruck that makes siren noises and lights if you press a button on the side, a confused looking plastic fireman, and then finally a box larger than her own head, with big thick cardboard pages.

"Weed, K'iss," Kaelah says, toddling back over with the book clutched in her chubby fingers, dropping it without ceremony directly into his feet. "Weed. Weed now, weed, weed, K'iss!"

Chris runs his fingers over the smooth shiny cover, squinting against the first hint of a headache when he looks at the seemingly hand-drawn letters in yellow layered over green and blue and red. "Good, goodnight Moon," He says haltingly out loud.

Kaelah grins, flashing little baby teeth, clapping. "Moon book!" Then she makes her eyes very big and says, "Pleaaase Moon Book?"

Chris's heart skips a beat, nerves sparking over his arms, but he gives a faint smile and nods. He can do this. The book isn't so many pages, and he's been working so, so hard. He hasn't passed out trying to read in weeks now. Last week he even read Kauri a whole poem.

Kaelah plops herself right down in Chris's lap, snuggling her back right into his chest, her soft frizz of hair tickling his narrow chin. Chris opens the book and looks down, taking a deep breath.

His head hurts in warning, but it's not too bad. And if he's going to be able to go to college, he's going to have to be able to read to take the test for it.

When he starts to read, he feels a strange sense of being somewhere else, a long time ago, and that he isn't the one reading but the one being read to.

"In, in the... The gr... Guh-errrr... gr-ate... great green, green room there was a, a, a... a tuh-ehl... tele... telephone, and a red buh, balloon... and a pick-... picture of the cow juh-... juh-humping oh, over the moon..."

His voice is low and halting, and Chris has to push through the static and ache that tells him not to do this, it's against training, against policy, it's not allowed. He hates his reading voice, slow and stumbling, sounding out phonetics. He's eighteen years old, almost nineteen he thinks, and he can't read.

His lips press together, fighting the sadness and anger. Chris isn't angry very much - he's too happy for that. But sometimes happiness at what he has still gets all mixed up with his furious grief over everything he must have lost.

Whoever he used to be could read, he knows that. Whoever he used to be could read, and do math problems that didn't involve pictures of apples, and wouldn't have to struggle to read to a little girl the easiest book in the whole world.

This is your favorite, huh, baby?

The memory of her voice has been worse when he reads, but he doesn't tell anyone.

He's afraid if he tells, he'll stop hearing it again. He doesn't know whose voice it is, not exactly - sometimes he does but then the memory is gone again and he forgets - but he knows he loved her, and she's dead, and her voice is all he has to hold onto.

"I'm sorry," He whispers. "I'm, I'm, not... not not a good reader."

Kaelah, thumb in her mouth, turns to look at him and pops her thumb out. "K'iss," She says, firmly. "Weed, K'iss. Bun bun kitty."

"I, I know-" He's not sure how, but he does, he does know there's bunnies and a kitten and mittens and the old lady still whispering 'hush'... "I'm just, just, so bad, and-"

"Keep going, honey." Nat's voice is soft from the doorway and he looks up to see her leaning against it with one hand, in her usual jeans and shirt. Her shirt says PEARL JAM and Chris tenses as he realizes he read the words without thinking.

It didn't hurt any worse than the other reading already has.

"Keep it up." She smiles down at him, her brown hair carefully braided and laying over one shoulder. "You're doing great, Chris."

"But, but, but, but I, I, I keep having to... to-to sound it out," Chris says, slumping a little.

Kaelah smacks the open book with her hands. "K'iss more!"

"She doesn't mind that," Nat says gently. "She just likes your voice, and you. Take your time. Everybody starts somewhere, and you've already gotten over the biggest speed bump."

Chris swallows, looking down again. "I, I have?"

She nods and Chris licks at his lips, moving his finger to find the words to start again.

"And... and there, there were three little bears sitting on chairs-"

Oh, I did all those without sounding it out, he thinks, with a stab of something like a sharp pride.

"-and two little kittens and a pair of, of, of mittens..."

He turns the page and Kaelah takes up sucking her thumb again. Chris is aware of Nat still watching from the doorway, the warm and reassuring weight of her presence, and how badly he wants her to be proud of him.

"And a, a little toy house and a young mow, mouse..."

You got this, sweetie, you're doing so good! I'm so proud of you, reading so early! Screw your doctors, baby boy, we got this, you and me! Screw 'em for saying you wouldn't read!

Chris lets the elation in the voice of the woman he doesn't remember carry him through the rest of the words when he turns the pages again, bit by bit.

"And a comb and a br, brush and, and, and a bowl full of mush... And, and a quiet old lay-... lay-dee... lady who was, was whis-... whis-perrrr... whispering, 'hush'."

Goodnight room, reads a tiny boy's voice inside his mind, as the headache throbs but doesn't stop him.

"Goodnight room," He whispers, echoing the boy, the memory of someone he isn't anymore. "Goodnight moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the, the moon."

Kaelah pats his hand with hers. Her little fingers are always damp. "Good job, K'iss," She encourages him.

Chris looks up to see Nat's smile.

"Good job, Chris," Nat says, and he breathes in the praise, lets it settle in his bones and rush through his blood.

In his head, somewhere deeper than the conditioned ache, she whispers, Good job, Tris, I'm so proud of you.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

[honey-dewey]

Random Dewey Finn headcanons (?) I came up with while eating my breakfast

Before Dewey wanted to be a big rock star, he wanted to be an astronaut. 

His aunt gave him his first guitar for his 10th birthday, thus sparking his love of rock music. 

One of the major reasons he never quit music was because of that aunt. She passed away early, and was constantly the only member of his family that truly believed in him. 

Dewey’s mum was kind of absent, so he was raised primarily by his dad. 

Dewey and Ned met on the first day of high school, and were inseparable for all four years. 

Despite both of them liking both, Dewey likes Star Wars more, while New prefers Star Trek. They have debates of epic proportion over which of these preferences is better. Dewey somehow always wins. 

One of the reasons Ned let Dewey live with him is because Dewey is an amazing cook. He never eats what he makes though. 

His specialty is breakfast foods

While he may be an amazing home cook, he’s an even better baker. 

Dewey is highly sensitive to textures, especially food and fabrics. 

Because of this, he rarely tries new foods, sticking to a decently firm schedule. (He really likes hard boiled eggs) 

It’s also why he likes sweater vests. The actual sweater doesn’t touch his skin, but he can rub his hands up and down the knit when he gets overwhelmed. 

He’s also sensitive to criticism. Along with that, he cries easily. 

After the whole School of Rock incident, Dewey did some quick online classes on teaching. When a music teacher position at Horace Green opened up, he was the first one contacted to fill it. 

During SoR shows, Dewey has a tendency to get very hyped, and this eventually leads to a collapse, usually on the bus ride home. It happened once on stage, where he just went still and quiet all of a sudden and then began to panic. 

All of his kids know exactly what to do during his collapses. 

They made him (yes made him) a stress doll. It weighs about twenty pounds and looks like a panda. They lay it across Dewey’s chest and let him lie down on a blanket. The kids then surround him to make a protective barrier. It’s a very effective method. 

It took almost thirty years for Dewey to get diagnosed with mild autism, anxiety, ADD, and seasonal depression. His mother was a firm believer that mental illness was a hoax. 

He did try and take medication for it, right when he started teaching full-time. It made him nauseous and tired and so unlike himself that he quit after three months, a decision that was fully backed by his students. 

He eventually did go back and get a new prescription for his ADD. It works surprisingly well and doesn’t make him act any less like himself. 

This isn’t even a Headcanon. It’s straight up actual canon from the Broadway.com Stick it to the Man video! Dewey stims! He knocks his wrists together and does the raptor hands! (I don’t think his hands were truly by his side at any point during the entire show) He taps his feet and shakes his hands! His facial expressions are always on 10 and he scronches his face when he’s excited! His head go bop! He’s a stimming Boi!

Also have you ever seen a neurotypical person dress like that? Ever? Nope. Sweater vests and jeans and sneakers (that look like heelys) is not a neurotypical outfit. 

Dewey doesn’t like rainy weather, nor does he like the cold bite of winter. He has a heater and a happy light in his classroom for rainy and/or cold days. 

His favorite season is fall. He really really likes to step on leaves and hear that satisfying crunch. 

Dewey also has a weakened immune system, and is pretty vigilant about his health. He takes vitamins and vitamin D supplements, and yet always ends up with some kind of illness in winter. Despite this, he refuses to get any kind of flu shot. 

Dewey’s list of phobias includes: needles, heights, clowns, and the dark. 

He’s dead terrified of the dentist. Ned has to practically drag him every time. It’s not even that he has poor dental hygiene or has actual odontophobia, he just hates the experience. The combination of strong smells and uncomfortable touches and horrible noises overwhelms him so much. 

For much of the same reasons as his hatred of the dentist, Dewey dreads getting his hair cut. Social interaction mixed with weird feelings on his surprisingly sensitive head and the constant background noise and the hair spray-y smell make it an experience Dewey’s hated since childhood. Now, Ned usually cuts Dewey’s hair because he’s really not picky about how it looks, and Ned knows exactly how to go about the job without causing Dewey to hyperventilate and cry. 

He uses a night light! It’s the fun kind that projects stars on the ceiling. 

Dewey is the king of field trips. He’s always just as eager as the kids to go, and he loves to learn niche facts. His favorite field trip location is the aquarium. 

Dewey quit drinking after his 23rd birthday, when he blacked out and woke up in some random girl’s bed. She promised they didn’t do it, but ever since then, he’s terrified it’ll happen again. 

Speaking of which, Dewey’s a virgin. 

Once, one of Dewey’s female students came to him and said an older man was following her to and from school every day. Dewey was later suspended from work for a week for punching a man and putting him in the hospital. Once they knew why, the school board unanimously decided not to punish him. 

Dewey absolutely insists all of his kids call him Dewey and not Mr. Finn. 

He’s the most supportive teacher in the entire school. He’s got name tags on every desk with each kid’s preferred name and pronouns. When Billy comes out as non-binary, he makes the pronoun switch immediately and puts a beautiful stained glass-esque progress pride flag in one of his windows. 

Someone hatefully vandalized said pride art project and Dewey actually cried. His kids all banded together to make a new one. 

Sometimes, the kids purposefully ask Dewey to sing certain things because his voice gets so damn tender and beautiful, as opposed to the usual bombastic singing they’re used to. (Think like. Some of the 35MM songs) 

Dewey has a routine with his drinks throughout the day. Two cups of coffee in the morning, one at home and one at work. One water bottle before lunch and one after lunch. A Gatorade or some other fitness drink after school, usually during band practice to make up for how sweaty he gets. And one cup of lavender citrus tea with extra honey after dinner. 

He broke his only water bottle about four months into teaching full-time and started to use a plastic one every day. Ned decided that wouldn’t do, and got him a Mandalorian water bottle. Dewey loves it to bits. 

Dewey doesn’t celebrate any one version of a holiday. He’s equal opportunity for any and all holidays, but he grew up Jewish. That doesn’t stop him from helping Ned put up his Christmas tree every year. Nor does it stop him from celebrating Yule with his online friends. 

Despite being Jewish and mainly celebrating their holidays, Dewey loves Christmas music and starts playing it as soon as he can. The kids dare him to hit those ridiculous Mariah Carey high notes in All I Want For Christmas. He does it. 

He also once sang ‘Little Drummer Boy’ to his kids the day before holiday break. He only played his guitar softly and by the time he was done, each and every kid was fast asleep. (He played Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer as well) 

Dewey absolutely collects soft blankets. He has four halloween ones, two Tim Burton ones (a Beetlejuice and a Corpse Bride), eight winter holiday blankets, and three miscellaneous. He brought them all into class once and built a blanket fort to teach his kids about ancient civilization. 

Speaking of which, his teaching methods are unorthodox at best, and at worst downright crazy. But he always teaches and he always makes it memorable. His class has the highest test scores in the school. 

Dewey usually teaches using music or hands on activities. He plays soft background music during every class no matter the circumstances, and said screw the building’s lights and uses primarily lamps and strings of Christmas lights. 

He also kind of forgets that he teaches essentially middle school, and he swears every so often when he’s super passionate. Like when he taught the kids about the US Presidents and called Andrew Jackson a racist bitch and Richard Nixon a lying bastard. 

After getting bullied throughout all of high school, Dewey came to terms with what his body looked like, and now he really doesn’t care. (He did have a lot of fun smashing the scale his mother got him for his birthday once) 

Dewey was supposed to teach his kids about mental illness for a suicide prevention thing the school did, but got about halfway through before he had a breakdown and the kids declared the rest of the day a bust. They watched cute animated movies instead of learning for the rest of the school day. 

Speaking of animated movies, Dewey really loves Studio Ghibli. 

The first time one of his kids called him ‘Dad’ he cried. Then they kept doing it and now he’s had to accept that he’s basically a father to about 30 11-year-olds. 

If you ask any kid in the school who their favorite teacher is, they will not hesitate to answer ‘Mr. Finn.’ Even if they aren’t in his class, he’s their favorite. 

Dewey’s classroom is always open for lunch. It’s quiet and calm, usually with a movie going in the background. 

He also stays after school for about an hour every day, helping kids with homework. He hates math with a passion but that didn’t stop him from trying to figure out Katie’s math homework with her. 

Even at home, Dewey cannot stand the quiet. He either has his headphones on or the radio going. Silence just isn’t an option. 

Dewey once got pneumonia and tried to come in to work anyway. The kids made him go home. He didn’t really put up much of a fight. 

The first instrument Dewey ever learned to play was the piano. He started to learn when he was super young, and that was how he learned how to read music. His kids didn’t even know he knew how to play until they walked in on him practicing one day. 

Dewey says ‘fuck gender roles’ and wears the girl’s skirts to a few SoR concerts. He likes the way it makes his legs look. 

Some jerk parents constantly tried to get Dewey in trouble for months because they didn’t like him and thought he wasn’t ‘high class’ enough for their kid’s education. Dewey was so stunned when they showed up during one of his classes that he couldn’t speak and just started to cry. Said student stood up and called their parents out. Two days later, those parents were off the school board. 

Meanwhile, on the other end of the spectrum, Dewey found out a new kid he’d received was being abused at home because they weren’t getting high enough grades and he yelled at the kid’s parents in front of all the other staff members. 

Essentially, Dewey can’t defend himself at all, but will not hesitate to protect his kids. 

Dewey has said multiple times he would die for his kids. He’s always 100% serious, especially during lockdown drills. 

Once, the school had a lockdown that wasn’t a drill, and Dewey managed to keep his entire class silent and calm while mentally preparing himself to lay his life down for his kids. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. 

Dewey’s also said he’d seriously consider adopting any of the kids if their at-home situation was that bad. 

When he finally could, Dewey moved out of Ned’s house and into his own cramped loft apartment. He’s in love with the apartment, even though it’s tiny and kinda smells. 

Dewey has almost no concept of volume control. He’s slightly deaf from constantly doing very loud shows and sometimes shouts because he thinks that’s a normal speaking volume. 

As one of, if not the actual, youngest teachers at the school, Dewey is universally adored by the rest of the staff. It took a while for all of them to get on board with him, but now they all really like him. 

Dewey’s favorite fruit is pomegranate. There’s just something super cathartic about cutting into a pomegranate and slowly de-seeding it. Plus, it tastes super good. But he only likes them if he can de-seed them himself. 

One of the ways Dewey grounds himself is by pressing things to his mouth. He usually just puts his hand up on his face or the end of a pen in his mouth, but whenever he has a blanket, one corner is up against his lips. The same goes for stuffed animals. They’re always against his face. Most of the time, he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. 

[hyena-frog]

One of the most amazing scenes in Dark Age was when Darrow talked to Atalantia - he was broken emotionally after seeing his beloved wife and Sovereign trampled by the mob, but he never gave in, he still called out that devious bitch (btw, Darrow swears a lot in DA, that's how much shit escalated). It was glorious and heart-breaking at the same time. Darrow can compertimentalize his emotional baggage extremely well, but 😭😭😭 What are some Darrow DA acenes you loved?

That chapter was so hard to read. 😭 That chapter, and up until the moment when Virginia’s supplies finally arrived, was Darrow’s lowest emotional point in the whole book. (I nearly cried at the end of the chapter when he lay down to stare at the ceiling, clutching Pax’s key.) But Darrow kept it together, even while Atalantia gloated. I was fascinated that Atalantia complimented him (even though she was being totally gross about it), and said: “No betraying inflections. No microexpressions of grief. Simply obduracy, despite the dread clawing at the back of your eyes—a doomed army, a lost child, a dead wife... That is a Peerless Scarred...” (Page 283) Society Golds can call Darrow the “Slave King” and other derogatory things all they like, but even their dictator can acknowledge this lowly Red has a steel spine.

I like to think Darrow’s call outs both before and after Atalantia broke the news of what happened in the Senate got under her skin too. First he tells her she was Magnus’ least beloved daughter for her debauchery, then that she is afraid of Darrow and his army and of “becoming Pyrrhus.” I can’t help but notice the next time we see her private quarters, the meditation chamber has become austere and empty, almost like she took some of those words to heart and changed her frivolous decorations to something more in keeping with an Iron Gold. But that’s just me.

Compartmentalizing emotions is something Darrow does well, maybe too well, to the point even Sevro can get fed up with it (but that’s mostly on Sevro). But that trait is exactly what kept Darrow’s army afloat on Mercury. Even with his heart broken, he didn’t compulsively decide to give in to Atalantia’s demands nor did he decide to attack her in some suicide charge. He was able to think clearly enough to admit he can’t make an unbiased decision and left it up to his high command. It was both a sign of respect for his army and clear proof that he truly doesn’t believe in his own myth. He’s just a man. I think this is ultimately what pivots Harnassus to being 100% behind Darrow as leader. And what snaps Calloway out of his stupor after Orion’s death.

(Everyone swore a lot in DA. Shit escalated at an exponential rate. Darrow, Daxo, Core Golds like Cicero and Atlas. I’ve never seen so many “fucks” in this series. And little Electra got in a “cunt” or too. Whoever says Pax and Electra don’t act their age have obviously never met the same kids I have. 😂)

The simplest answer to your question about which Darrow scenes I loved, is all of them. I loved everything Darrow did in this book even though his story line was the heaviest overall. But I thought long and hard and came up with 5 scenes I enjoyed the most (presented chronologically, not ranked):

1) “We brush away light resistance at the downed Storm God.” (Page 134) I get such a thrill every time I read that line. It’s so funny (and satisfying) to read Darrow’s nonchalance after Lysander’s attempted stand against Darrow just a page before. Boy got his ass thoroughly thrashed. Meanwhile Darrow didn’t even know he was there. He had bigger fish to fry.

That said, this first point actually goes to the entirety of Darrow’s last chapter in Part I. Him running back and forth all over Heliopolis to help his army, to the point Harnassus thought the men must have taken hallucinogenics, because there is no way all of them saw Darrow during the battle, right? And Darrow having a heart attack from over-stimming and general exhaustion, but still wanting to fight. 😭 He’s so good. When Harnassus reached up to cup Darrow’s face, told him to rest, and that they will carry the rest, it was the first time I thought there was more to the man, which I’m glad paid off at the end.

And of course, Screwface’s legendary “Hic est Lupus, motherfucker.”

2) “Sevro’s Palace” — It was Darrow’s only moment of comedy in the whole book (aside from occasionally teasing Rhonna about Alex) and I cherish it. From Glirastes’ dramatics, to Rhonna refusing to go into Sevro’s room for the sardine side quest, to Darrow getting an ass full of needles because he didn’t think Sevro booby trapped his room (of course he did, boyo), to this part:

(Page 494) -chef’s kiss- It’s so good.

But then the comedy quickly turns heart-wrenching as Darrow is forced to truly reflect on Sevro’s absence for the first time since the end of Iron Gold. We learn a lot about Sevro through Darrow’s eyes, like Sevro’s soul being his armory, that is, his family. How Sevro being raised by an absent warlord affected him and informed his decision to leave for Luna. How Darrow understands the decision even if he doesn’t agree with it.

What ultimately gut-punched me good was how seeing Sevro’s soul laid bare like that made Darrow resolve to ask for his forgiveness, and to be a better husband and father.

3) “Meat Straw” — The infamous “twitching meat carpet” line is disgusting yet everyone remembers it. Just like Darrow’s violence throughout the finale. Horrific but beautiful in a way. But I like the very end of the chapter the best:

(Page 691) Why? Reaper laughing like that was hot. I don’t have a deep reason for everything. 😂

4) This one is technically cheating because it’s multiple scenes but, I liked each time Lysander acknowledged how cool or frightening or cunning Darrow was. Here are a couple specific examples from the final battle:

(Page 693) Really cool imagery comparing Darrow to a tiger.

(Page 695) “Red acrobatics” 👀👀👀

5) The final showdown between Darrow and Lysander. What I like to call the razor jousting scene. The two of them on giant sunblood horses, charging each other down a dark street, is just the coolest mental image this book gave me. Even though Lysander cheated with that extra razor, and it resulted in one of the most tragic casualties of the book (Darrow’s razor). I’m glad Lysander got a shattered arm out of it. Plus, Darrow remained seated despite his own shattered arm and a razor in his lung, while Lysander went flying, the Pixie.

Thank you for the ask!

[vegetacide]

Whump●tober -  Unconscious

Veg-notables:   For whumptober. I’m doing this out of order and I don’t know how much I am going to be able to produce for this but I am going to give it a go..  Thanks to @gumnut-logic for all her help.  She beta read this for me and enlightened me about my subject matter.   You rock!  

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning:   Just a heads up for migraine sufferers this post deals with them. 

Characters:  K/V, Scott

Whumptober - TaG universe 

10. Unconscious

Enjoy...

oOo

The silence in the cockpit of Two was a drastic contrast to the days events. It was almost numbing in its entirety and the muteness in comparison to the past forty-eight hours sent a shiver of discomfort down Virgil’s spine.  

As the adrenaline ebbed and drained away a twitchy feeling settled over his tired frame. He scrubbed angrily at his face and roughly sank his hands into his jet black hair, leaving it in complete disarray.  

Slumping back in his seat, tired brown eyes glanced over the displays and absently took note of the post flight checks. Just a few more minutes and the data would be uploaded to the island servers leaving him free to debrief, shower and hopefully fall into the much needed oblivion of sleep that his body seriously craved.

Watching the information continue to scroll across the screen as the program verified each of Two’s systems, Virgil felt an even deeper lethargy settle over him and he allowed his head to fall back on the padded rest.  

Call outs had been on an uptick lately and Virgil was having a hard time remembering when he’d last managed to a solid eight hours of rack time or even when he’d had a full meal.  Trying to recollect the last thing he’d consumed; other than coffee and stim’ tabs, had a sudden stab of pain flare in his temple.

Clenching his lids tight against the agony as the overhead control panel blurred out, he flung his arm across his face and buried his head in the crook of his elbow. Effectively blocking out and hiding from the glare of the panels around him that seemed to be lighting the place up brighter than the sun.

Taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it out his nose, he waited for the discomfort that had started to throb through his head to subside to a manageable level. In. Out. In. Out, repeat.  The pain didn’t abate in the slightest but grew in intensity.

Rubbing at the growing ache, he hissed out a curse as his comms pinged with an incoming transmission.  Forcing his posture upright, he plastered an acceptable expression on his face and flicked the line open, praying that it wasn’t another mission.   

“Hey Scott, what up?” 

The holo of his eldest brother floating blue and transparent above the control console frowned at him. “You coming up?” Virgil blinked a couple times as the image before him doubled and shifted back again. 

Virgil gave a nod and held back a wince as the movement of his skull drove a railroad spike through his cerebral cortex. Quickly schooling his features and hoping the eagle eyes of his brother hadn’t noticed, he flicked a few random switches. “Ya, just finishing up the post flight.  Had an odd reading from the aft thruster and had to run additional diagnostics. Be up in five.” 

“Okay,”  His brother replied back but didn’t sign off.  He hung there, arms crossed a moment and the intake a breath told Virgil that the commander of iR was suspicious.  “V, you okay?”  

Virgil cursed to himself as an aura flared in the corner of his eye,  “Ya, I’m good. Long day” He added a casual shrug before continuing.  “Almost done, meet you in the lounge in a few.” He forced a smile he hoped would reassure his brother that he was just busy and closed the line down.    

As the muted light of the holo dissipated Virgil all but folded in half, head dropping into his hands with a groan.  Biting back the nausea that started rolling his stomach and swallowing as his mouth started to salivate, Virgil fought his gag reflex and gruffly ordered the sun shade down over the view screen, plunging the cabin into darkness.  “Fuck..”  He moaned out, pressing his fingers into his eyes as the world went sideways. 

8-8-8

Scott sat back in his father’s desk chair and frowned as he watched the time tick by on the open data screen that was scrolling stock market details in front of him.   Something felt off,  he knew  his brothers were tired and worn from yet another rescue. They’d been busier than normal lately and it was started to wear but his big brother senses were tingling.

Fingers steepled, his frown grew as another minute past and still there was no sign of his Second.   Sitting up, he flicked the statistical data away and brought up an overhead blueprint image of the island. With another quick flick, coloured numbers appeared and overlaid the island villa floor plan. 

A couple of the numbers were moving about the island, going about their business of relaxing and enjoying the down time.  Alan; Scott could hear from where he was sitting, was down in the kitchen searching for something edible and singing horribly off key.   The red number three on the screen blipped merrily on the map before him in correlation.

The next closest numbers were his own and the submarine yellow four that indicated Gordon in the pool but the verdant number two was what drew Scott’s eye.  It blipped slowly and unmoving in the bowels of their island home, right where his brother’s ‘bird was berthed.  

Narrowing his eyes, Scott took only a moment of contemplation before double tapping the motionless number.  The screen shifted, flipping the island to a side view  and zoomed in on the hanger. The side profiles shrank as the screen split and tabled, moving to the top, left corner.  Mission data along with Thunderbird Two’s status flashed below, all scans showing green. The opposite half of the screen filling with the audio channel info and flight suit bio readings. 

On a whim, Scott blew the bio readings up for closer inspection and drew in a concerned breath.  The numbers were way off base line.  O2 levels were crap,  pulse was quick and thready and body temp readings wonky.  "Shit…" 

"What's up?" Came the lilting voice of their security expert from the base of the landing stairs, her eyes zeroing in on the screen as she stalked across the room.  

Scott spared her only a brief glance as he flicked back over to the house schematics and punched in a series of commands.  Instantly the storm shutters started trundling down over the villa windows and the over head lighting reduced. 

There was a yelp from Alan downstairs followed by something shattering, Scott ignored it as he turned his attention back to Kayo.  “Down in Two.” It was all that needed to be said.

“Another one?” She asked even though Scott knew she really didn’t need the answer.  

“Looks like it.” 

She mirrored his earlier expletive.  

8-8-8

They found Virgil in a shivering heap on Two’s flight deck fading in and out of consciousness and Kayo held back her panic as she sank down on her haunches beside him.  

Gently brushing his hair back from his forehead, she sighed at the sight.  His skin was sallow and damp with perspiration and he quaked as his body temp kicked up a notch.  “You idiot, what have you done to yourself?” She questioned softly as Scott settled down at her elbow and passed a med-scanner over his sibling.  

“This is a bad one.”  He whispered as he finished and pressed an IV kit into her hands. He pushed to his feet and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I’m gonna go grab a stretcher.  We gotta get him up to his room and it doesn’t look like he’s gonna move otherwise.”

Kayo nodded in reply and Scott disappeared through the access hatch.  

Sighing as she looked at the pained expression on Virgil’s face she set to work unbuckling his baldric, relieving him of the top half of his flight suit and went in search of a viable vein. 

Swabbing the inside of his forearm clean she tried not to let how unresponsive he was to her prodding bother her but she was having a hard time of it.  She knew the corded muscle under her hand intimately and seeing it so slack was more disturbing than she cared to admit.  

She gave her head a shake and shut the thought process down, now was not the time and cursed as she failed yet again to breach a vein.  Damn it, his veins were a mess and she was having a hell of a time trying to find one that wouldn’t collapse as soon as she touched it.  

Squaring her shoulders, Kayo tried again with a smaller gauge and the sting of the needle fishing around roused Virgil from the darkness. His foggy eyes flickered open. Unseeing and blood shot they scanned around blindly. “..Tin..?”   His voice was rough and barely audible through the clattering of his teeth.

Kayo shushed him softly and comber a hand gently through his sweat soaked hair. “It’s ok,  I got you.” She whispered, bending down to skim a kiss over his brow before returning her attention to his shot circulatory system.  

“..S..s’rry..”  He groaned out as a wave of pain pulsed through him.  

She couldn’t help the confused chuckle and a soft, worried smile tilted her lips. “What for?”  She questioned nearly pumping her fist when she finally hit pay dirt.  Catheter in place, she grabbed a line and with little fuss set up a saline drip to replenish his depleted system. 

“Worrying..you.  Can see...see it in your..”He stopped abruptly, the colour bleeding out of his face as he took on a decidedly green cast. ..”oh god...” 

Kayo swore and steady him as he lurched to one side and proceeded to lose the contents of his  stomach all over the decking.  Grabbing an emesis bowl she held it out for him before too much damage could be done. Not that Virgil had much to bring up. 

As he dry heaved, all Kayo could do was rub a gentle hand on his back in slow, steady circles and try him couch him through the retching. By the time he was done,  Virgil was a weak, quivering mess and needed help to settle back down on the cool, diamond plating.  

“That sounded like fun.”  Came a voice from behind her as Scott returned from the medbay and crouched down beside them, his eyes glancing over the IV bag hanging off the back of a seat, “Hey Virg, how ya doing?”  

Virgil just grunted by way of reply, not even bothering to open his eyes and rolled over onto his back, his chest heaving with the movement. 

“That good, huh?” he turned to Kayo and pulled out a veil, speaking softly  “I’ve got Alan just outside to help get him upstairs but if he is at the yacking phase of the ride we gotta get this into him first or the trip is going to be rough.” 

Kayo took it from him and read the label.  It was a fast acting cocktail of painkillers and anti-nauseants that she knew Virgil hated with a passion but options were limited.  He was too far gone and they couldn’t very well leave him here on the deck of Two while they waited for the migraine to pass. 

Grabbing a sterile syringe she handed the lot back to Scott to deal with and lent down to Virgil’s ear.  “We’re giving you the cocktail,  I know you hate it but we don’t have much of a choice and you need it.”  

Virgil sank the heel of his palms into his sockets and with bared teeth clenching down as a new wave of torture attempted to make his brain explode.

With tender fingers, Kayo wiped an errant tear from his cheek and waited for his nod of approval.   He was lucid at the moment and due to that they couldn’t just pump him full of drugs unless he agreed to it. 

“Virgil?”  She questioned again, laying a hand on his heaving chest. “Let us help..” 

A small, brief nod from him spoke loudly of how much he was suffering.  

She looked to Scott who was already sliding the syringe into the IV injection port. His eyes meeting hers, he depressed the plunger and Virgil was lost to the black void of drug induced oblivion and she was thankful for it. 

8-8-8

TBC

Next post can be found HERE

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

[natwhumps]

From Chapter 8 of the Archon Arc

A sharp pain lanced through her head as a wave of dizziness rocked her. The adrenaline that was buoying her upright was gone. Her muscles seized and she curled into herself. A groan escaped her lips. “Did she use the epipens I gave her?” Lexi’s voice shrill in her ears. 

Jaal looked at Vetra, both of them dumbfounded. Ryder could only nodded at Lexi’s question. “No choice,” she said through clenched jaw. “Had to.”

“Goddess!” Lexi exclaimed in exasperation. “Get a gurney!”

Ryder writhed on the ground. The assembled moved quickly to give Lexi space to work with while others scrambled to get what Lexi asked for. She felt a sharp jab of a needle in her neck and a sharp cold sensation travelled down her body. “Painkillers but I don’t think it will help much,” Lexi explained. “You are coming down from the stims. I warned you about this.”

Scott’s voice loomed over her as she kept her eyes squeezed shut. “Sara, Sara,” he called, fear obvious in his voice. 

If she could, she would have punch him in the chest in a bid to soothe him. The pain had left her with no voice or control over her body. Tit for tat. Turnabout is fair play. Hands began to lift her onto a gurney and there was forward motion. “Get her to the Hyperion!”

Sweet, blissful darkness claimed her. For how long, she had no idea. She drifted in and out of consciousness as voices came in and out. Lexi’s was a constant, while Scott’s is another. Cora’s voice came through to yelled at people to get out of the way. Ryder could feel Jaal’s hand on her forehead. A small buzz of bio-electricty was the only comfort she could take their contact. 

“…SAM node now… needs hard connection…”

Someone was pulling her hair back to access the port at the left side of her head. There was a sharp jab and a jolt pierced her mind. Ryder cried out. “Hold her down!”

Hands clamped down on her limbs as she struggled ineffectively against them. Am I dying? Is this for real this time? As quickly as the jolt came, it faded. There was a pull and something warm trickled down the side of her head. SAM’s voice came through her mind. “Pathfinder, you are in safe hands.” SAM said. 

“Get her to the medical wing, now!” Lexi instructed

Then darkness swept up and engulfed her whole. 

Read the Rest on AO3 | Read it from the start

[eeee-lye]

I reblogged a post for my stim blog about a DIY craft, and I legitimately spent two paragraphs talking about the importance of pre-punching holes when sewing through paper or cardboard, followed by how, even though I have three different commercial awls, my best awl is still a giant tapestry needle taped to a broken felting needle and I had a whole class of student bookbinders to back that up.

I seem to have this unaddressed need to get into handmade bookmaking again.

This is why Sandry fa Toren is my favourite even though my clothing style involves jeans and shirts and running shoes. If I were in the Circle universe, I’d be a stitch witch. I’d just be a stitch witch in breeches who makes books and stim toys and struggles with the smell of glue but does it anyway. Oh my god, can you imagine a Circle-type craft mage book about a bookbinder?

*adds it to very long writing To Do List*

(Sandry would be even more my favourite if she weren’t just Word of God asexual, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. I really should re-read everything Sandry one day just to make notes of all the bits that seem to me ace.)