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Hi HI HI HI HELLO hi all!!! uhm long rambles under the cut
So...hi... 😿 I'm sorry I've been really inactive for the past few months. I took some time off for myself (i was mostly busy with college and commissions). I hope everyone's doing okay!!! I'll try to go back to posting soon as a way to get through my 2nd year in college because i really miss the daycare attendants 😿😿 I have a lot of drawings of them stored in my gallery, I think I'll slowly post them day by day!
For now I just posted my selfship <\\33 also idk if anyone knows hadestown here but i just finished watching the musical!!?? ITS SO GOOD 😿😿 someone should write a fic with this au...... eclipse are orpheus,,.. and erm.. freddyxbonnie for hades and persephone...uhm.. okay ok goodnight all
ALSO also!! im sorry, ill be sure to answer my asks soon TT maybe only some of them that are still relevant, ill answer,,, i appreciate all the asks though, thank u so much for the kind messages!!:^(((
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i mean "posts about Black people" in a broad sense, that can mean anything from struggles to Black joy, and when you see the notes, most of the time it’s double digits, three if I'm being generous.
start being comfortable posting Black people's words in your blogs, the same way you'll reblog posts about transness, gayness, disability, because these specific topics can affect you
start actually giving a fuck about Black folks and reblogging our words is the barest minimum
11:35. I’m laying in bed and I’m thinking about writing but not actually writing, and also how hungry I am but I also refuse to make something because I need to watch something while I eat because I refuse to sit in the darkness of my room while eating a sandwich.
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I'm having bad back pain from a 10hr shift at work so I'm gonna project it onto Hiccup,,,, Comfort Fic incoming!
⋆⊱༻𖥸༺⊰⋆⊱༻𖥸༺⊰⋆⊱༻𖥸༺⊰⋆
Hiccup who's back aches up a storm after spending more and more time hunched over Toothless. Good posture isn't something taught on Berk. Only pansies care about elegance and properness. So he's stuck being the first one to learn about overtly tensing your back during flights and how much poor posture actually hurts your body.
He's laying in bed after a long day and by Thor's hammer he cannot sleep. No position rids him of the pain and Gothi is both too far and probably asleep by now. It's not urgent enough to wake her. Sharp pains jut out at random moments and his neck feels like there's a rod in it. It's his own personal hell.
He feels Jack before he sees him; the room drops several degrees and a gentle wind brushes along his forehead. Hiccup opens his eyes. Brilliant, icy blue stares back, upsidedown and twinkling with mischief just 15 centimeters above him.
"Well hello there Chief-son. What are you doing awake?" Jack questions, dodging the obviously more pressing question.
Hiccup ignores him to ask it, "If you thought I was asleep, were you going to watch me sleep?"
Jack tuts at him. "You oughta know answering a question with a question isn't how you solve your problems, Hic. Now tell old Frost why you're awake."
"And if I don't want to?"
"I didn't ask if you wanted to."
Hiccup wishes he was actually annoyed enough to groan. Unfortunately, he's quite fond of his snowy friend. Jack only visits Berk sporadically to bring a light snowfall. His time with Hiccup in the comfort of Hiccup's home is limited. The easy joy Hiccup attributes to just Jack existing overpowers the annoyance of his bratty nature. Though, that's usually the case. Without much consideration, Hiccup relents. He wants to complain anyway. He waves Jack away, only mourning their separation for a moment. Jack settles on the floor besides his bed, crossed arms on the bed. He rests his chin atop them, allowing Hiccup to stay laying down.
"My back hurts."
"Who's the real old man, now?"
Hiccup glances over, eyes narrow. "I seem to remember you have, I don't know, about 3 centuries over me?"
"I don't see your point."
Hiccup rolls his eyes and continues, "It's been getting worse when I take Toothless flying. Not sure why. I can't get the ache to go away." He shifts into his side, as if to prove his case, wincing.
Jack looks unimpressed. "You can't be serious."
Hiccup gives him a flat look. When Jack just stares back, eyebrow raised in defiance, Hiccup finally groans like he was meant to. The smile Jack barely hides only confirms this was part of his plan all along.
"Jack-"
"You spend all day curled up like an overcooked shrimp-"
"Hey!"
"-pushing against the Wind," Jack continues, "which is already hard enough. AND you're turning with Toothless the whole way tensed up half the time doing spins this past week. You're really wondering why your back hurts?"
Hiccup frowns, hiding indignantly. "I've been doing this for years! Besides, flying has been really easy lately. Toothless must be getting stronger because it hardly feels like there's any drag lately. Although," Hiccup trails off, eyebrows pinching. He gets that far away look when he's thinking through something. "...Now that I think about it... That doesn't make sense."
The room suddenly feels slightly colder. Hiccup focuses back on Jack as the winter spirit laughs oddly, leaning off the bed. He starts picking frost off of where he was settled. It's dark in the room besides some moonlight falling in through the door to the landing Jack clearly entered from. Still, Hiccup could almost swear Jack looks... Blue in the face?
"Oh, so Toothless's strength suddenly makes you immune to the force of the Wind?"
"Well..."
"Be careful how you answer. The Wind might not like your stance," Jack teases.
Hiccup knows this could be a joke, but the Wind is Jack's actual friend so... He might need to tread lightly. He chews on the pros and cons for a moment as Jack's grin gets wider. A draft of Wind pushes Hiccup's bangs up, forehead out in all it's glory. Hiccup quickly pats it back down, shooting Jack a glare and huffing.
"You're not responding. So I'm going to assume I win this argument." Jack hums impishly. Hiccup heaves a sigh that could rival his father. Jack snickers but says no more on the subject of the Wind. "So that's it? Why don't you ask Gothi-"
"It's the dead of night."
"That it is."
Jack taps his staff in his lap, slowly raising until he's floating in the air upside down again. As he muses, a light sprinkle of flurries rain down in Hiccup's room following his aerial treading. He mutters to himself, voice soft and whispering along the Wind. Hiccup can't understand a word he says. No matter. Jack's muttering is familiar. Comforting. Hiccup curls up under the blanket and leaves Jack to his thoughts. It doesn't take long for Hiccup to go back to his frustration. Gods, his back really does hurt.
A while later, Jack snaps his fingers and races out the window. Hiccup stares at the open sky and waits. He's very good at waiting for Jack. Does it more often than he cares to admit. The atmosphere just feels... Emptier when Jack is gone. It takes a longer while for Jack to come back. Hiccup is face down on the bed seething in his discomfort by then.
"You're already in position. Perfect."
Hiccup gasps turning over quickly at the sound of Jack above him. He's holding his staff out to the side, a bag of something quite heavy-looking hanging from the crook. It's steaming.
"uh..."
"Turn back over before they cool down!"
"but-"
"Hiccup, please. I'm trying to help."
Hiccup once again considers that befriending the winter spirit is possibly the oddest thing he's ever done. But Jack has been the second best thing in his life after Toothless even when he's impulsive or won't elaborate on things. Hiccup diligently lays back on his stomach.
He hears what he can only assume is struggling and the shifting of clothe. A weight is deposited with little grace onto his back and Hiccup yelps. It's VERY warm. Wrong. It's hot.
His voice cracks as he warns, "Jack-!"
"Wait a second! I know! It's just stones! The blanket is under them. You won't burn. Just try to relax."
Hiccup isn't sure how that's supposed to relax him but he obeys. The stones(?) are shifted around until they're layered evenly across his back. A few seconds later, Hiccup sighs in relief. The heat of the stones and the weight of them are divine. He sinks further into the bedding.
"What," Hiccup purrs, "is this?"
Jack laughs softly coming down to rest back at his spot on the side of the bed. "Hot stones from the forge. I cooled them down a bit. It's a method I've seen used by other tribes. Supposedly it helps you relax."
Hiccup moans lowly in response. The room drops a couple of degrees again and it only makes him groan in delight. It keeps getting colder.
"Can you close the window," Hiccup asks with his face smooshed in the pillow. "I think the Wind is running around in here."
A gust of Wind blows around his hair to prove his point.
"Sorry, Im just enjoying the heat," he mumbles apologetically.
The Wind blows harder at his head as if annoyed. He hears Jack make a strange noise but hears him listen. The landing door closes with a dull thud. The temperature rises just a bit. Jack returns to his spot. They slowly fall into soft conversation. Where has Jack been the last few weeks? How are the kids doing in dragon training? Has Leif's Nadder given birth yet? What kind of snowball fights had Jack started recently?
As they chat, Jack moves the stones around and nudges them with his staff to check if Hiccup's skin isn't burning. Soon though, the heat begins to get to Hiccup.
" 's hot." He mumbles.
Jack blows on his body, a breeze too cold for Hiccup making him shudder. Jack blows on his face which earns him an indignant squawk. He then goes to remove the stones. Hiccup does not like that option either.
"I can only do so much, Hiccup. I'm a part of Winter remember?"
"Ok, then be winter. Just don't freeze me," Hiccup whines grumbles.
The room is still for a moment. Then Hiccup feels the temperature by his head slowly decend until he feels chilly fingers lay across his forehead. He sighs again leaning into Jack's hand.
"... Better?" Jack's voice is off. Maybe a bit high?
Hiccup leans away worriedly. "Is this uncomfortable? You don't have to-"
The hand rests fully on his forehead again.
"You talk too much," Jack says and that's that.
This time, Hiccup lets Jack talk in that whispery airy way of his. Hiccup understands enough to get the gist but his mind slowly creeps into the space between wakefulness and slumber. Jack's cold fingers trail along his temple, cheek and jaw. Guiding Hiccup into the sleep he'd needed all day.
I just wrote 8 pages when I haven't written in months and was beginning to think I'd never be able to again. Idk what it is, but I am sharing and manifesting this energy for every writer who sees this. May you write 8 quality pages effortlessly and find joy writing once more
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Boston Brand, against his better judgement, came to the House of Mystery when John Constantine called.
“Ghost Business” he said, unhelpfully, when Boston asked. And Boston, nobly, and stupidly, found himself in John’s parlor not long later.
John sits him down at a card table (well John sits, he floats) and begins explaining. John seems in good spirits, which is unsettling enough that Boston chooses not to comment on it. He’s only half listening to John’s preamble when a boy who looks like he just woke up shuffles by the parlor door.
No— not a boy— oh shit, he’s—
“Your Majesty!” Boston floats back, startled stiff. He blinks in disbelief. That aura is nonsensical as it is unmistakable— that boy, the rumpled teenager in John’s hallway, is the High King of Ghosts.
The king looks up at Boston and blinks, slowly. “Hmm?”
Deadman freezes. Even though the king appears to have the form of a teenage boy in mismatched pajamas, his presence saturates the room with power. Boston feels the pull of it, tugging at him like gravity. He has to actively keep himself steady above his chair.
“Oi Danny, bring us a tea, would you?” John snaps in the kid’s general direction. Deadman stifles a whimper, and thanks his lucky stars that the king didn’t vaporize John on the spot. Instead, the boy tilts his head in a lazy nod and shuffles off toward the kitchen.
Deadman might dissolve into a ball of pure nerves. John couldn’t be so witless to not know the Ghost King was under his roof. Unless— it’s possible the king was purposefully hiding. Powerful things tended to be good at disguising themselves when they wanted to. That seems more likely than the alternative— that John knowingly addressed the king like he had an active death wish.
Boston bites his tongue. Was that little outburst enough to reveal the king’s hidden identity? He doesn’t want to imagine what the king might do if he blew his cover.
“Something the matter, Boston?” John smirks, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
His eyes shift between Constantine and the door the king disappeared through. He really should warn John. As much as he likes to joke that John deserved to go to hell, he truly didn’t deserve to be the petty plaything of the King of the Infinite Realms for all eternity.
“John— you—“ is all he can manage to clip out before the boy reappears. He slips over to the table with three steaming mugs in hand.
He sets the teas down with a thunk and takes a seat next to John. Boston had heard the king could interact with the physical world in a way that ghosts like him couldn’t, but seeing it for himself makes him twist with jealousy. The third mug of tea on the table—the one Boston would not be able to pick up— is a taunting reminder.
“Thanks, mate.” John takes a long sip. The king lifts his mug as well, before his attention shifts, finally, to Deadman.
“So, you must be Boston?” The king pins him with green eyes that glow with all the power of the in between. “John told me all about you.”
“He did?” Boston’s eyes go wide. He looks to John, who gives half a shrug, and Boston confronts another horrible possibility.
John sold him out.
Ghosts aren’t supposed to hang around on the mortal plane, and Boston has certainly overstayed his welcome. It isn’t far out of character for John to lure Boston here just to hand him over. He’s an offering, or a trade of some kind, a bargaining chip for good favor with a very powerful entity. Either way it didn’t matter much now. The king was here to collect his truant ass for good, and he could dunk Deadman into the afterlife simple as swatting a fly. It’d be nearly impossible for Boston to get back.
Pure panic ices through him.
“I promise I’ve done nothing but try to help. I don’t belong in the afterlife, please— I—“ the pleas fall pathetically out of his lips, but he can’t bother to protect his pride now. He can’t go to the afterlife permanently. Not yet.
“Oh, I know what you’ve done.” The king’s lips curl into a smile, hinting at sharp teeth. Deadman considers dissolving. “Honestly, I’m surprised that you, weak as you are, have done as much good as you have.”
“I—what?”
The king sips his tea. “You only do possession? Really? I guess you have to make do with what you’ve got.”
“I’m not sure I—“ Boston frowns. John’s shoulders shake, holding back laughter. “It’s not funny, con man, that’s the King of Ghosts.”
John nods, perfunctory. “That he is.”
Deadman blanches. “What’s he doing in your house?”
The king smirks. “It’s technically sorta my house, at least when it’s in the Infinite Realms.”
“What?!” Boston hisses, and Constantine does let out a chuckle then.
Constantine leans back in his chair. “Relax. Danny helped me with a demon problem in Gotham. He’s staying here for a while.”
“I helped you?” the king side eyes Constantine, grinning. John raises his hands in a gesture of concession.
“Danny?” Deadman practically squeaks, and oh god, did he just call the king by his first name?
“At your service.” The king- Danny- nods with a mock salute.
Boston opens and closes his mouth, as if that might help make sense of what the hell is going on. “So you’re… not here to drag me back to the afterlife?”
“Nope,” Danny replies, popping the p.
Boston puts a hand to his face, mortified, a whirlwind of anxiety still swirling. It seems John still was finding new ways to try to give him an aneurysm.
“I meant it when I said you’ve done good work,” the king continues. “You help people. I can’t say the same for most ghosts who try to make a life outside the realms.”
Boston sinks closer to the table, sitting beside them as much as he’s capable. He lets the warmth of the king’s approval sink into his chest, as well as the relief.
Boston will berate John for the panic he caused later. For now, he’s just glad to have gotten a royal get out of jail free card.
“Ah, we talked too much, your tea’s gone a bit cold.” Danny nods at Boston’s cup, and Boston bites back a bitter retort. But there’s no mocking edge to Danny’s face, only a kindness, and a familiar conspiratorial bend.
Boston can see why he and John get along.
He reaches for the cup, just to humor his king, and—
His fingers close around the mug, solid, real. He can feel the lingering warmth of the tea, the weight of the cup in his hand. Slowly, he lifts it to his lips to sip. It tastes bitter, and sweet.
He looks up at Danny in shock.
“How?” he whispers.
Danny shrugs. “Ghosts have an easier time interacting with the physical world when they’re around me.”
Boston might cry.
Danny just smiles. “You’re welcome. Oh, and also—“
Danny points over his shoulder to a door on the far wall. The wood of the door is so dark it’s nearly purple. Boston knew it hadn’t been there before, because now that it’s here he can’t ignore it. It pulls at him even stronger than the king does.
“That’s yours,” the king explains. “The House of Mystery agreed to let it stay here so you can have easier passage back and forth to the Realms. It’s not good for you to stay away for so long.”
Deadman understands the weight of this gift innately. But he can’t help the trepidation that tickles at the thought of willingly leaving the living world, even if it isn’t permanently.
“Thanks. I think.” he says finally.
“It’s nothing.” Danny smiles.
John grins, utterly too pleased with himself. “Oh don’t look so glum Deadman, you’re still the number one ghost in my heart.”
“Fuck you Johnny.”
John just laughs, and so does the king, and Boston, despite himself, joins them.
The door, his door, lingers, an open invitation. He’ll leave that journey for later.
