just_a_dapper_fellow
Fandoms
- Red Dwarf (UK TV) (46)
- Baldur's Gate (Video Games) (5)
- MASH (TV) (4)
- The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald (4)
- Star Trek (2)
Recent works
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Slipping, Falling, Tumbling Down by just_a_dapper_fellow
Fandoms: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
02 May 2026
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Summary
Sleep. Humans required sleep… and Gale was beginning to resent that simple fact.
Elves tranced. Half-elves followed suit in lesser measure. Githyanki required little more than a meditative stillness, rigid as a drawn blade even in rest. Tieflings—well, Karlach seemed to run on something that wasn’t sleep at all, something infernal and relentless, a furnace that did not dim. Even Wyll, although still human by birth, had that infernal pact and demonic blood flowing through him, letting him push beyond reasonable limits. Regardless, they could all operate on far less than Gale knew, in the marrow of his bones, that he needed. He had always needed more, and he was painfully ashamed of it.
Gale, as a human, needs more sleep than the other party members. He chooses to ignore this fact because he doesn't want to slow them down. His body, however, can't keep pushing forever.
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Summary
“Working, working, working,” Jervis murmured under his breath, fingers fumbling back toward the scattered wires. “No rest for the brilliant, hm? Not when there are minds to shape and worlds to bend.”
After Jervis had stopped speaking once again, the silence lingered. Then, soft as dust settling on old wood, came Jonathan’s voice.
“Are you sleeping…”
Jervis froze. The words drifted through the lab in a low, almost breathless murmur. Jonathan rarely spoke outside the odd nursery rhyme. His voice carried an eerie softness, muffled slightly by fabric and distance, yet precise in its rhythm.
“Are you sleeping?”
Jervis has been awake for far too long. Jonathan tries to get him to go to bed.
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Double Kiss by just_a_dapper_fellow for Luminous_and_Wired
Fandoms: The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
14 Apr 2026
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Summary
“Do you play?” he asked, genuine curiosity coloring his voice.
This was where I erred. I knew full well that I understood how to play pool, albeit only through fumbling attempts in my college days, blurred by the influence of cheap booze and low lights, but nonetheless, I knew the game as much as the average man. There was no reason for me not to give him such a simple truth, but my traitorous subconscious and its fatal longing for that which I shan't easily admit in writing had different plans.
Against my better judgment, I replied, “No, I’m afraid I haven’t.”
When Gatsby asks if Nick knows how to play pool, Nick plays the fool in hopes that Gatsby will give him some hands-on instructions. Nick gets his wish... and more.
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As To Not Disturb The Sky by just_a_dapper_fellow
Fandoms: The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
23 Feb 2026
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Summary
I have always been inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores; but even I have limits, and that afternoon, as the clock in my home traced a languid path toward three, I found myself judging Gatsby.
He had missed luncheon.
Now, there are men who miss appointments as they miss trains—casually, with the shrug of one accustomed to the world adjusting itself around them. Gatsby was not such a man. He possessed, instead, a species of attentiveness that made one feel singular in his presence, as though he had cleared a space in the firmament solely for you to stand in. If he said he would meet you at one, he arrived at twelve-fifty with a smile already prepared. If he was detained, some explanation—charming, elaborate, faintly improbable—would arrive in his stead. Silence did not belong to him.
When Gatsby fails to show up to lunch, Nick gets worried and goes to check on him. Turns out Gatsby's business is more dangerous than Nick knew.
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Summary
When Sportacus woke up that morning, he instantly knew something was wrong. For one, he didn’t feel the urge to immediately flip out of bed. His limbs felt leaden and achy, an unfamiliar sensation that he really didn’t appreciate. Secondly, when he turned his head to look at his alarm clock on the bedside table, it didn’t read 8:08. It read 9:34. He had slept in. That was unheard of for him. Elves were creatures of habit, so to break that, something had to be wrong.
Sportacus carefully sat up, trying to assess his condition. Soreness that didn’t feel like a pleasant burn after exercise. Pounding head. Stuffy nose. Oh. Surely not. Surely he wasn’t sick. He was Sportacus! He was Lazytown’s slightly-above-average hero! He was the pinnacle of physical fitness! There was no way he was sick.
Sportacus gets sick and tries to brush it off. Robbie won't let him.