#nikhil clayton

[argeriant18]

I wonder how Nikhil Clayton's holding up with all the Gambit scenes in "X-Men '97" these days lol

[chungledown-bimothy]

SO many um, actually guests i'm really fucking excited about

but oh my god nikhil clayton has been neck deep in comic fans trying to um actually him for YEARS now, i am so excited to see him turn the tables

[blitzendoggo]

Scars and Hearts

Glib is very self-conscious of his scars and his friends just want to help. 

No ships. Just college idiots being college idiots. (2896 words)

**

Step. Step. Groan. Step. Step. Stumble. 

Step. Step. Fall. Stand up. Step. Step. Groan. 

All of him hurt. Parts of him that he didn’t know could hurt, hurt. 

“How do you trip over the air?” Glib scolds himself as he limps towards the dorm room. “It’s fucking air!” He huffs, clutching at his actively bleeding stomach in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. “And why the hell was there a statue with an actual goddamn sword at the bottom?”

The walk to his dorm -which generally takes just short of ten minutes- has been a nearly thirty-minute adventure. Breathing hurts, his vision is blurry, and he can’t walk in a straight line for more than a few steps. With the way he is walking, he could easily be mistaken as drunk, if it weren’t for the trail of blood he is leaving with every step and his very obvious limp. 

With the door to his first floor -and Glib counts his singular lucky star for that. He doesn’t think he can climb any more stairs at this moment- dorm room in sight, he takes stock of his injuries again. 

His right ankle is rolled at the very least but is most likely broken, judging by the way it throbs in pure pain every time he puts a minute amount of pressure on it. He has a shallow gash in his thigh that is bleeding sluggishly, and a matching cut that runs from the top of his right hip that ends just under his sternum. Most of his ribs feel bruised while at least one of his right ribs feels fractured. His right shoulder was dislocated but Glib popped it back into place once he picked himself off of the ground. His hands and his face are scraped up pretty bad, not to mention the new collection of bruises that are forming all over his body.

“Alright,” he mutters with a stuttering breath, “ice for my shoulder and ankle, stitches for my stomach and maybe thigh, rubbing alcohol for the scrapes, strong painkillers for the ribs, and a nap for the rest of it.” He coughs weakly as he finally gets to the door. With the caution of someone who has gotten hurt too many times he slowly opens the door before throwing it open fully with slightly more confidence. 

Sitting in the living area is Specks and Phlash debating theology, B.B. working on his godforsaken gun again which does not appear to be loaded (“I only make mistakes like that once!” B.B. had said a week before making the same exact mistake again. His eyebrows and facial hair have just grown back.), and Charlie doing some homework in the corner. Only Charlie notices Glib enter the room, seeming to welcome a distraction from her work that isn’t religion-centric.

“Hey, dude,” she says as she rolls her shoulders and cracks her neck. “We were starting to get-” she cuts herself off as she takes in his haggard appearance. This is by no means the first time Glib has come back to the dorm injured, but it is the first time he’s come back this hurt. “...worried,” she finishes her thought, eyes never leaving him as he sways slightly in the doorway. 

“Well, I’m still-” He cuts himself off with a wet hacking cough which makes his mouth faintly taste of blood. He leans heavily against the doorway as he gets his bearings back. With a shaky hand, he wipes his mouth across the back of his hand before saying weakly, “I’m still alive.”

“Glib!” Specks exclaims, running over to him as fast as his little goblin legs will carry him. “My friend, what happened!” 

The human blinks at him slowly before connecting the dots. 

“Oh. I, uh, fell down the stairs at the paladin building and collided with the statue,” he explains as he pushes himself off the door and stumbles further into the room. If he can make it to the hallway, he’ll be homebound. “It's amazing that for a magic school the, uh, statues don’t actually move,” he jokes, but it falls flat as he coughs and a bit of blood dribbles from his lips. He just needs to get to his room, to his med kit.

“Woah there,” Phlash says as he stands up, head nearly knocking into the ceiling as he crosses the room in three large strides. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” With Phlash standing this close, Glib can tell he is slightly high which explains the theology debate. 

“My room?” Glib says, not really understanding why everyone is suddenly so worried for him. Sure, he looks like death, but he’s not actually going to die from this. Nothing is majorly hurt. A little ice and he’ll be fine. 

“Why?!” Specks yelps, his comically large eyes making his expression much funnier.

“That’s where all of my healing stuff is?” Glib says, more like it's a question than a fact. 

Specks looks at the others in a “did I hear him right?” sort of way before looking back at Glib.

“No, absolutely not.” He throws his little goblin hands into the air before doing what Specks does best: take control of the situation. “Phlash, pick him up and put him on the couch.” Phlash grunts and affirmative before gingerly picking up the very hurt human, being extremely mindful of the open gash in his stomach. “Charlie, get one of our spare blankets and throw it over the couch so I don’t need to worry about the blood.” She nods before running down the hall to get a university blanket. “B.B.” His head snaps up from his machine. “Go get a bowl of warm water and a rag please.” B.B. looks mildly confused before quickly taking stock of the situation and springing to his feet to help. “Now, I’m going to get your so-called ‘healing stuff’,” Specks states before turning on his heels and marching into Glib’s room.

Glib doesn’t have a chance to protest before he realizes all of his friends have launched into action. Charlie’s down the hall fishing through the closet, Phlash is currently holding him as if he’s the most valuable glass item to ever exist, B.B. is in the kitchen area rummaging for a clean bowl, and Specks is digging through his room. All to help him. 

Charlie comes back into the commons first and spreads a thick blanket across the ratty couch and motions for Phlash to put him down. Glib fully prepares to be dropped from five feet in the air onto the hard-as-a-rock sofa, but instead, Phlash gently sets him down. With a type of caution that Glib didn’t know the druid possessed, he begins to feel Glib over, feeling for his major injuries, and is extra mindful of their size difference.  Phlash’s hand is easily the size of the human’s entire head and could hurt him if the goliath isn’t careful. Charlie begins to run her fingers through Glib’s hair for similar reasons, but Glib nearly melts into the comforting touch.

Specks comes bounding back into the room with the med kit in his hands, babbling the entire time. “I’m sorry, I would heal you, but I already did a lot of spells today!” 

B.B. comes back with a bowl of water and places it on the table next to the couch. He pauses for a minute to look at Glib, clearly concerned. “No one, uh.” He clears his throat before nervously fidgeting with one of the braids in his beard. “No one did that to you, right?” 

Glib blinks blearily at him, the slow amount of blood loss catching up with him. “N-no,” he mutters, slowly bringing a hand up to rake it over his face. “No one did this to me.”

B.B. nods, excepting the answer for now, before stepping back out of the way and returning to his tinkering, notably not nearly as enthralled by the gun. He keeps looking back to Glib every few seconds before looking back to the machine. 

Specks taps Phlash and motions for him to move. Phlash grunts before standing up and moving to Glib’s other side. He plops down next to him and arranges the human so that he is leaning against the high druid. Glib almost immediately sags into the goliath, letting himself feel the exhaustion for the first time. Charlie removes her hands from his hair but stays behind him.

“Can I do anything to help?” she asks, her voice softer than Glib has ever heard the bard speak.

Specks shakes his head as he arranges himself between Glib’s legs and opens the kit. Charlie watches them for a moment before walking in the direction of the kitchen.

“His ribs are fractured and bruised, he has a cut on his leg and a deep ass one on his stomach, there’s something up with his shoulder, and his ankle is fucking shattered,” Phlash explains as he watches Specks inspect the human’s injuries. 

Specks hums in acknowledgment as his nimble fingers dance over the noted injuries. He clicks his tongue as he gets the wet rag and brings it over to Glib. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and begins to lift it, startling Glib into sitting straight up. His hands fly to his shirt and tugs it firmly down. 

“No!” he yells, breathing heavily and staring at Specks. “Shirt stays on.”

Specks’ eyebrows pinch together. “But Glib,” he starts slowly, treating him like a scared wild animal now. “I need to be able to clean the cut.”

“So?” Glib snaps, anger compensating for his other emotions. “Do it with the shirt on!”

“Glib, I can’t do that,” Specks says, still extremely confused. “I can’t clean it properly or stitch it up if it is covered.” He studies Glib's face for a moment, seeing right through the anger. “It’ll get infected and scar horribly.”

“And?! What’s one more ugly scar!” Glib hisses, tears building up in the corner of his eyes. His friends can’t see his scars. They can’t. It can’t happen again. He won’t let it. 

Specks and the others look at each other with concern before Specks says, “Glib? What are you hiding?”

“You don’t want to see them!” He snaps, tears rolling down his face. “They're ugly and- and horrible and- you just don’t want to see them! I won’t let you” He fights to get up for a moment, but Phlash easily holds him in place.

“Glib, we all have scars,” B.B. offers slowly, watching for any change in his demeanor. “I have a lot of them from the amount of times I’ve blown myself up.”

“But those aren’t like mine!” he sobs, words slurred and scratchy. “Those have a purpose- a story! Mine are just from dumb mistakes!”

The others look at each other, trying to silently decide what to do while Glib has an active panic attack over his scars. 

Charlie slowly stands and walks behind the couch. 

“I’m going to touch you, okay?” she says. She waits until Glib nods before burying her hands back into his hair and running her fingers through it in a similar way she did before. The wizard is too anxious to hear her quietly mutter a spell, but he very quickly feels its effects. Glib calms down but not a lot. It slows his breathing and allows him to actually communicate with Specks.

“All I need is for you to lift up your shirt,” Specks says calmly. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Glib swallows hard as he nods. Specks pulls up his shirt exposing the wounds and all the scarring around it. 

He can feel Specks' eyes instantly go to the crescent moon scars under his pecs.

Glib tries to blink away tears and keep his breathing level, but he fails spectacularly. He braces for a negative response and with every second that passes, his anxiety doubles. 

He’s a moment away from falling back into a panic attack when Phlash suddenly asks, “how’d you get that one?”

“What?” Glib asks, feeling as if he can’t breathe.

“This one.” Phlash repeats touching his stomach. “How’d you get it?”

“Oh, uh,” Glib says as he traces the scar with his eyes. “I think I fell down a- down a hill or something,” he says lamely, not expecting the smile he gets from Phlash.

“I got this scar from climbing a tree as a wolf,” he explains pointing to a scar on his arm. “You’d be surprised how hard it is to climb when you don’t have thumbs.” He leans forward and points to a series of round scars on Glib’s arm. “How about this scar?” he asks, pointing at another one.

“Dog bite I think,” Glib offers, not catching onto what Phlash is doing.

The druid laughs and points to a scar on the side of his hand. “A goliath child bit me. The little shit had some sharp teeth.”

B.B. comes over and asks about another scar on Glib.

“Hot iron rod. My dad used to be a blacksmith,” Glib explains watching Baldrick carefully. 

The gnome-dwarf pulls off a glove and points to a series of scars littering his fingers and knuckles. “Most of these are from sticking my bare hands into hot furnaces or touching hot metal,” he says casually. 

For the next serval minutes, they trade scar stories as Specks cleans, stitches, or wraps all of Glib’s various wounds, some new some old. He doesn’t notice how every couple of minutes Charlie will mutter a Calm Emotions spell to keep him from spiraling again while the others talk to him.

Glib isn’t certain when he falls asleep, but he knows he must have because the next time he opens his eyes, he’s lying in bed, lights out, curtains drawn, and a bowl of Glib-safe food setting on the table on the other side of the room. He slowly sits up and notices he has no shirt and no pants. There is an assortment of bandages wrapped around his entire body. Anxiety flares up immediately. His friends saw his scars.

He replays the entire interaction and comes to the startingly realization that his friends don’t care about his scars, and Phlash seemed to be genuinely intrigued by them. He rakes his hands up and down his sides, minding his injuries as he calms himself and reels in his emotions. One panic attack is enough for today. 

After sitting in bed for another moment, he slowly gets to his feet. He puts a little weight on his right ankle and regrets it. He falls back onto the bed, hissing in pain. There is a tight wrap around his ankle and foot, but Glib belatedly realizes he probably shouldn’t put any weight on it regardless. 

With a huff, Glib stabilizes himself on his left foot and hops to the desk. He quickly and efficiently wolfs down the flavorless mush before hobbling out of the room.

He’s barely taken a step (hop?) out of his room before his friends swarm him.

“Let me get that,” Phlash says, taking the bowl from his hands.

“Wha-” Glib sputters, but B.B. cuts him off. 

“Are you sure you weren’t pushed?” B.B. demands, cocking his gun and holding it threateningly. Charlie stands behind him and nods encouragingly. They both have a murderous glint in their eyes, and their antics immediately cause Glib to forget his anxious fears. 

“Yes, I’m sure-”

“You shouldn’t be standing on that!” Specks shrieks shoving the other two out of the way so he can be in front of Glib. “Go lay back down!” He tries his best to look threatening, but he looks closer to an angry kitten than anything scary. Specks huffs before yelling, “Phlash! Come pick him up!”

“I’m coming little man,” a gruff voice calls back, followed by heavy footsteps. Phlash comes back over and scoops Glib up like he was nothing more than a sake of mushrooms. “Where am I taking him?” 

“The living room please,” Glib interjects before the goblin can say anything. “I’m not going back to sleep, but I also want to make sure that they-” he points to B.B. and Charlie, “-don’t go and try to fight someone for pushing me down the stairs.”

“So, someone did push you down the stairs!” Charlie exclaims, looking very proud of herself.

“No! That’s not what I-” Glib huffs before sighing loudly. “No one hurt me. I’m just very clumsy and tripped over air, headed first, down the stairs,” Glib says with a forced calmness to his voice. Charlie looks very disappointed and B.B. slowly lowers his gun, clearly upset that he doesn’t get to shoot a bully through a wall. 

Phlash, having decided that this conversation was clearly over, carries Glib into the living room. He places him in the center of the couch before sitting down next to him with an audible thump. Charlie comes in next and takes the extra spot next to Glib, and she is followed in by Specks. Specks clambers across Phlash’s lap and he settles on the sofa’s arm. The two of them light into a completely different theology argument as Charlie picks up her textbook from the side table. B.B. comes in last. He carries several scrolls and dumps them on the floor, spreading them out in a circle before beginning to work on a new project. Glib sees gunpowder and a spell rune too close together before deciding that it's probably best to not worry about what Baldrick does in his spare time.

Glib slowly starts drifting to sleep, happily surrounded by his best friends who don’t care about his ugly scars or his anxiety. He would gladly spend the rest of his days right here.

Hopefully, his midterms go well, and he won’t have to retake any classes without them. 

[orreryofworlds]

If anyone has been a fan of @nikhilclayton on Tiktok, check out his Kickstarter for an animated project based on his Bumbling Immortal series of videos.

[chungledown-bimothy]

!!!! oh my god??? nikhil clayton?!?!?! when i was on tiktok, his account was my favorite on the whole platform bar none.

i am SO fucking excited holy shit

and BEGGING for a gambit question let the man go off about his boy