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abbacchiosbelt · 3 years

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Someone Great | Yandere!Satoru Gojo x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k.

CW: Manipulation, yandere behavior, kidnapping. SFW but allusions to not sfw acts.

"What's wrong, sugar?"

Gojo's sing-song voice makes you cringe - he knows what's wrong. It's just like him to play the fool, to pretend that he was innocent in all of this and that you were the one with the problem. You glare at him and he holds his hands up, the grin on his face never faltering.

"You know I'm just doing this to keep you safe. How many times do I have to tell you—"

You cut him off, repeating the phrase he had attempted to drill into your head back to him. "You're the strongest. No need to tell me again."

Gojo shrugs, unbothered. "I'm the strongest." You roll your eyes at his need to repeat what you'd just said, the words only meant to stroke his out-of-control ego. Gojo plops down where you're tied up on his couch, snaking an arm around your shoulder. Even if you pulled away, there would be no escape from him. Some bullshit jujutsu sorcery kept you bound to your current spot, unable to move. Gojo squeezes your shoulders with his broad arm, making you wince. "C'mon, at least look at me. You know I love you."

Anyone else in the world would be lucky to see Gojo's eyes and hear those words from him - you'd felt lucky once, too. But that was before Gojo took an interest in you, before he took control of your life.

"Baby," he sighs, pressing a peck to your cheek. "You've gotta get used to this. You can't keep fighting me forever. I know you love me too."

"It's been a week," you spit. "A week since you trapped me here."

"And haven't I treated you well?" Gojo replies, calm.

"I would never hurt you. You'll realize one day that this is what's best for you."

There was a distinct divide in the world you lived in - there were civilians, and there were Jujutsu Sorcerers. With the sorcerers came curses, although the average civilian wasn't meant to be aware of curses or what they entailed. You, however, had become a frequent flyer when it came to needing the help of Jujutsu Sorcerers.

When you were born, a curse attached itself to your back. Later, you'd learn that there was a man in the hospital room with your parents meant to dispatch the very thing that had attached itself to your back. You were only 5 when your grandmother had told you about the family curse - each child born in your family was cursed upon birth. It had been happening for centuries. Allegedly, one of your ancestors had done something to anger an obscenely powerful curse. Your life would be filled with troublesome events, she'd said. But it wasn't all bad. There were people in this world who could dispatch such curses. They could see them, unlike you or your family. Your life wouldn't be easy, but it wasn't over before it began.

It wasn't easy. People tended to avoid you, even when you were young and innocent. It was hard to make friends, and most of the interaction you got aside from your family involved the sorcerers dispatched to take care of the ever-returning curse on your back. They were kind to you, but they were always distant. You did the best you could, hoping that one day someone would be able to see past the gloomy aura that followed you around.

That someone came in the form of one Satoru Gojo, dispatched to dispel your curse when you were in your mid-twenties. You had recently moved and registered with the local technical college. By now, it wasn't a big deal to you to tell people about your curse, especially to jujutsu sorcerers. They always were a bit odd, and though you had never grown close to any of the sorcerers who had serviced you, their presence was more calming than the presence of your peers.

Gojo had been sent to your home, the technical college hoping to ease your burden (and unknown to you, hoping to offload Gojo for just a couple of hours) by not making you take the train. His arrival was like no other jujutsu sorcerer you had met - he'd barged in your house without knocking, a broad smile on his face and stylish sunglasses covering his eyes.

The shriek you made at his surprise intrusion was undignified, but the white-haired sorcerer didn't seem bothered. He had laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "Aah, sorry. I thought this was an urgent deal." He raises his eyebrows as he watches your lips contort into a frown. "I'll knock next time."

"You'd better," you mumble, and Gojo smiles.

"Or else?" He quips, taking a step towards you. You didn't even know this man, and he was acting like this? This is who the technical college had sent over?

"I'll request someone else." You respond, curt. He laughs, loud and jovial. What was with this man?

"They didn't tell you about me, then?" He crosses the distance between the two of you and sticks his hand out, tongue poking out of his mouth. You take his hand, dubious, and he shakes it with vigor. "I'm Satoru Goju, and I'm the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer."

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He really had an ego on him. He takes your silence in stride, still smiling. "I know. You don't meet people like me every day. But trust me, I'm here to help you. Don't you feel better knowing that I'm here?"

As much as you wanted to tell him no, that he's a certified, over-bearing maniac who just barged into your house... You can't help but bask in the comforting aura he emits. Something about him, despite his manic personality, felt safe. The air in the room felt calming—

Gojo notices your sudden shift in behavior and tilts his head, still smiling "When we shook hands. No need to worry about it coming back for a while."

"Oh," you reply, amazed. It didn't take the other sorcerers long to dispel the curse on your back, but it usually was a bit of an affair. Satoru Gojo had gotten rid of the damn thing without needing to lift his pinky finger. "Well... Thanks." You shift from side to side, suddenly feeling small in his presence. Maybe he really was the strongest.

Gojo puts his hands in his pockets and leans back, relaxed. "If you really want to thank me, let's go into town. I'm starved."

The awe you felt immediately dissipates and turns back into annoyance. Sure, he had done you a great favor, but it was part of a contract you had with the college. Now he wanted food? Still... You couldn't deny that you were curious about him, even if he was managing to press all your buttons upon your very first meeting. You sigh, resigned to the fact that you knew you would regret it if you didn't take him up on his offer.

"Fine. Let me grab my bag." Gojo claps his hands together at your response, humming contentedly.

"Great! I have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I hope you're okay with sweets for lunch..."

Gojo goes on and on about his favorites while you grab your bag, fighting with yourself not to roll your eyes at him. What had the college gotten you into?

II.

As time passes and Gojo visits you to remove your clingy curse, the two of you grow closer. It's slow, at first. He gloms onto the fact that he annoys you and revels in it, smiling with glee every time you roll your eyes at him. At one point, he removes his shades when he arrives and teases you about the expression on your face for the rest of the day. It's like he can read your mind - you want to kick yourself for being so obvious, but it's impossible with someone like Gojo around. No matter what he does or how much he makes your blood boil, the calming aura surrounding him never falters. You feel at home around him. When you start to feel something tugging at your heart whenever he's around, you know you're at the point of no return.

You don't expect anything, though. Gojo is beyond your level - it's not a judgment of yourself, but simply a fact of life. Besides, Jujutsu Sorcerers were hesitant to get in relationships with civilians from what you'd learned over the years. You couldn't blame them, as their line of duty would put their partner in harm's way. The least they could do was be with another sorcerer who was able to defend themselves.

It comes to a head one evening when Gojo had stopped by unannounced. You weren't due for another curse removal, but you didn't mind his company. You had answered the door in your pajamas, not expecting anyone other than perhaps a neighbor wanting to ask you a question. Instead, you opened the door to see Gojo standing there dressed to the nines and holding a gigantic bag from the sweets store you and he frequented.

"U-uh." You stammer, feeling at a loss for words. "Gojo?"

He shifts from side to side, and you catch the tiniest hint of nervousness from him. Odd. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. I know you're curse-free right now, but I always want to check on you."

You balk at how smoothly he'd confessed, ushering him in without saying another word. You weren't sure what to say - had Gojo really just said what you think he'd said? He always wanted to check on you? Surely he meant it platonically, there was no way he looked at you romantically.

Gojo sits down on your couch likes he owns it and pats the spot next to him. You sit down without thinking, watching Gojo carefully as he unloads the bag of sweets on the coffee table. He talks about the different sweets as he places them gently onto the table. His blindfold had been pushed up, revealing those sparkling blue eyes of his that made you feel like you could gaze at him forever.

"Are you even listening?" You snap your head towards Gojo, finding his lips just a breadth away from yours. He had moved closer, close enough so that you could feel the warmth of his body, and you had been too distracted by your thoughts about him to notice the very real physicality of him.

"Gojo," you mumble, He pulls back a little and simply gazes into your eyes, waiting for you to continue. For a man who always talked, he was being rather quiet right now. "Why did you come here?"

Gojo smiles, soft - it's a look you haven't seen on him before. "Why else?" He leans towards you, oh-so-close again. "I can't stay away from you."

Whatever self-control you had is gone, and you lean forward to press your lips against his. He responded immediately, using one of his broad hands to cup your face as he deepens the kiss. The tension between the two of you is palpable, and the heat flooding through your veins is telling you more, more, more—

But just like that, he pulls away, sighing.

"Gojo?" You ask, concerned. Was it you? He looks at you, the longing in his eyes obvious.

"You know you can call me Satoru," He says, playful. But a second later, his face falls into a serious expression again. "I want this. I want you." He turns to face you, sliding one of his hands onto your thigh. "But this isn't what jujutsu sorcerers do. The danger you would be in if we were together... I can't put you through that."

As much as you want to argue, you know he's telling you the truth. You place a hand atop his. "Satoru, then. I think it's obvious I want this too." He smiles and gives your thigh a tiny squeeze. "I won't force you to do something you're not comfortable with. But, you'll still be my friend, won't you?"

Gojo chuckles, but there's no mirth in his laugh. "Who else would annoy you? Ah... I could never be without you, either." He turns away from you and stares into the distance, closing his eyes. "Maybe..." He shakes his head suddenly and turns back towards you.

"I should go." He bites his lip, staring at you. "Or maybe... just once. We could be together."

Oh. Oh.

"I'd love to, Satoru."

III.

Once turns into twice, and twice turns into three times. Gojo departs after cleaning your sheets and making you breakfast, ignoring your pleas that he didn't have to do any of that. 'It's the least I can do,' he'd said, smiling all the while. It had felt off, though - like there was something unsaid. You'd chalked it off to melancholy over the fact that things could go no further, and had spent the rest of the day busying yourself with chores.

The visits continue, though, even when you don't have a curse that needs expelling. Things don't make it to the bedroom again, but Gojo is intense. His eyes are always on you, and he's practically plastered to your side. When you go out he keeps his distance, but he's always on alert. He takes your hand when he knows no one is looking and sneaks kisses to the top of your head in private. You accept it, knowing that this is how things have to be.

It concerns you when suddenly, Gojo starts to appear at your apartment every day. You'd thought about giving him a key, but you couldn't remember if you had or not - yet he had a key, and he'd told you that you'd very much given it to him. Perhaps it was the curse muddling with your memory, he'd suggested. It had happened before.

It's fine, then. He's just looking out for you - it's the best he can do in the current situation. Gojo starts to spend the night, walking around your apartment at inane hours to make sure things were okay. When you're sleeping, he checks your phone (he'd watched you put in the password) and your calendar. He deletes texts from people he doesn't approve of and removes calendar dates when they interfere with his schedule. It's all to keep you safe, of course. You are the most important thing in the world to him.

You're blissfully unaware of this, writing off any strange incidents happening to you simply because of the curse that clung to your back. Even when it wasn't present, it still appeared to meddle in your life. As long as Gojo was there, though, you felt safe.

You never expect Gojo to be the one who makes you feel unsafe.

IV.

A particularly busy week at work left you unable to see Gojo for longer than usual - you were working, and he was out of the country on official business. You couldn't answer his calls or texts like usual, only replying every once and a while when you had the chance.

When Gojo returned, he was angry. You'd never seen him angry before, yet here he stood in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as he lectured you about answering his texts. It was unusual, and it felt wrong. You weren't dating him. You were just friends. That had been established by Gojo himself, so why was he acting like this?

"Satoru, you're not my boyfriend. You don't need to keep track of me every second. Even if we were dating, it'd still be too much."

He grits his teeth at that, clearly not impressed. "Don't you understand how much you mean to me? I can't stand it when I'm not with you."

You give him a pointed look. "This is... too much. I don't like it when you act like this." As much as you cared about him, this was ridiculous. He wasn't your keeper. You think of the threat you made the first day you met him. "I can request someone else to dispel my curse." He glares at you. "We'll still be friends. We just need some time apart."

"You don't get it." Gojo scolds. "I didn't want to do this, but I can't take it any longer. You can't take care of yourself. I need to protect you." He's on you faster than you can blink, and the last thing you see before your vision goes black is his angry expression softening back into bliss. "Just go to sleep. We'll be home soon."

When you wake up, you're in a strange room with no windows. It's pitch black, but whatever you're laying on is heavenly. It's plush, and it smells like Gojo— Gojo. You panic, sitting up in a hurry and rushing towards the door. Locked. You shake the handle and pound on the door, confused and terrified. "Satoru? Are you there?" You yell, panic in your throat. "Please, let's talk! Please, Satoru!"

The door swings open and you fall back, gazing up at the towering figure before you. Gojo had never intimidated you, but the way he stood above you now was terrifying.

"How are you feeling, sugar? I hope that didn't hurt." He steps into the room and flicks on the light switch, alighting the room with a soft blue glow. He crouches in front of you and pushes his blindfold up, a manic smile crossing his lips. "I love you. I want to keep you safe. This is the best solution," Gojo says. "It's the easiest solution."

"W-what?" You're baffled by his words, by his behavior. What had he done? "Satoru, this isn't... This isn't normal. You have to let me out of here." You pause, trying to think of something to push him towards your favor. "We can figure our relationship out. I-I didn't mean what I said about requesting someone new, I just got scared."

"And I don't want you to be scared of anything," Gojo says, giving your head a condescending pat. "You won't be as long as you're here with me."

You grunt, frustrated. He was the reason you were scared! "I can't stay here forever. You won't do this to me."

"I will." Gojo tilts his head. "I told you, I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Tears well in your eyes - what else could you say or do? Nothing was getting through to him. Gojo notices the tears brimming in your eyes and leans forward, wrapping his arms around you. What once felt comforting feels suffocating, the warmth of his body and the familiar scent of him all too much.

"This is what's best for you. I promise."

#jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere #yandere satoru gojo #manipulation cw #kidnapping cw #my writing #jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo

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cicobuffs · 3 years

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herbert west relationship headcanons

pairing: herbert west/gn!reader (no y/n)

there’s just such severe brain rot when it comes to this man i like him so much

words: 800

This man drinks black coffee like nothing in his coffee just straight black coffee

And unless you also drink black coffee, you’re just in the kitchen like wtf sir how are your tastebuds the way they are

Herbert has passed out in the basement lab before and I’m convinced he has some sort of little makeshift bed or something down there

Okay so as we know Herbert is in his lab for literally H O U R S and his s/o and/or Dan have to drag him back upstairs, on god, everyday

You just gotta thank Dan for helping Herbert back upstairs on a regular basis cause Herbert goes literal dead weight when asleep

Dan doesn’t mind though as to the fact he’s fond of you and thinks you’re good for Herbert

Not everyone would make an effort to lug Herbert up from his lab to an actual bed on a everyday basis

Herbert doesn’t get jealous all that much

At least he doesn’t think he does

He is way too cocky to not be jealous a little bit

The times he sees you and Dan laugh with each other for a bit too long or gaze lingers for more than it should something in that tiny man's head goes WEEWOO WEEWOO go get your partner

This is especially prevalent if you’re in a conversation with someone

He acts even more boastful than he already is and maybe a little bit touchy like an arm around your waist with a squeeze every now and then

This man is touch starved will he admit it? No of course not, his brain won’t let him but if you even give him the slightest bit of affection he’s gonna yearn

If your arms graze eachother he’s just like wow,,,welp that's my touch quota for the day no one speak to me now

He is the type of man to like not go to bed until 5am but would tell his s/o to go to bed at 9pm

You try to stay up for him because y’know you want your dumb scientist boyfriend in bed with you but you cant make it past 3 am

Herbert asks when you went to bed cause you walking around upstairs annoyed him and you were like 2 am and he’s just like HEY that's what i do stop that

He WILL trick his s/o into helping him with his experiments he has no shame

He’s like oh can you help me with carrying something and next thing you know you’re fighting off some random limbed reanimated creature with a broom and sheer willpower

This man has waddled his ass upstairs like “🧍🏻‍♀️can you get the spare bat the one in the lab broke” and you’re just like “sir please how did the bat break and why do i feel like i'm in danger ”

Herbert is entirely like literally just get the bat or shits about to go down

Call this man any type of pet names and he physically recoils

Herbert isn’t the most affectionate person (really he's the most difficult person to deal with relationship wise)

He's also aforementioned very touch starved how does this man function

You can call this man Herby and hes just like gagging mentally

That doesn’t mean he wont accept a subtle in passing “hun” thrown at him

Or on your end, he might call you a shortened version of your name or like “honey”

Don't point it out though unless you want to only be called your name for the next few months

I think Herbert would enjoy just your presence around him

Like if you’re just sitting in his lab reading a book while he’s working

Or if you both are watching tv on the couch

He likes the little things y’know even if that means you two aren’t interacting just enjoying each other’s company

He isn’t the best with physical affection like hugs, kisses, etc.

Wow so romantic when your knees touch while sitting on the couch and he doesn’t pull away

He doesn’t mind occasional hand holding or rather pinkie holding when you both are in his lab late at night

He's at his most touchy affectionate when its late late at night and he's so severely tired

He's too tired to be sharp and cold and he would really much rather be in bed with you asleep

Attached to your side when he finally gets to bed or if you’re still awake you hear him coming up the stairs and you meet him halfway

You lead him to bed hand in hand and its unspoken moments like these that really make you realize that despite his sharp, clever exterior he does care and love you

Just a clever science man wowie :)

#that 3 am motivation i have WOW #herbert west #herbert west x reader #reanimator #reanimator x reader #herbert west headcanons #my writing #☆ reanimator

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mymarifae · 2 years

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i took like 5 benadryl to help me get sleepy so now i’m getting those Sleepytime Images and i knew i’d need to share this one w u bc it involves ur epic girlboss giselle so here we go:

i kno u mentioned how toriel and giselle have a very tense relationship and how kris and berdly dating Might pose some problems for giselle so just. imagine if you will. kris and berdly decide to go to the sadie hawkmans dance (or prom or whatever big dance of ur choice) like As A Thing. not just as friends but like. yknow. Going Together. and giselle’s happy on one hand bc ohhh her little boy is growing up he has a date!!!!! but on the other hand she’s like ah fuck. now i ACTUALLY have to talk to toriel (not for like. permission or anything. but esp w a big dance u gotta like coordinate outfits and meeting times and who’s taking pictures at What House—idk i went to prom alone but i remember this being a thing for a lot of my friends in relationships)

so she decides to be the mature adult abt things and invites toriel and kris over to her house for dinner (w berdly there of course). and Oh My God does it go poorly. shit is just AWKWARD right off the bat like giselle will try a joke and it just Does Not Land w toriel and so she just has to laugh it off while thinking “jesus christ is this how asgore feels???” like idk i don’t think toriel holds active animosity but i’m sure whatever lore u have for them both means toriel isn’t giselle’s biggest fan. esp w seeing berdly being so emotionally shut-in and independent. and it’s awkward for berdly and kris too bc they want this dinner to Work bc they want their parents to Like Each Other so things aren’t Weird but they’re also not rlly sure how to help??? and also they’re just nervous in general bc now the parent of their partner is here in the room w them so they both must be on their best behavior

this is mostly bc i’m picturing a dinner scene a la shrek 2 and i think it is so real it hurts. it’s made even better by the thought that giselle is probably so not used to cooking big meals since she mostly orders out (or berdly cooks for himself—he’s actually pretty good) so the cooking scene is a nightmare and it rlly colors the dinner scene So Well. by the end of the night things do get better tho. i think giselle and toriel sit w wine while the two kids play video games in berdlys room and they talk abt life and being single moms and giselle gets like. rlly honest?? which is New for her. and toriel can tell she means well and rlly is taking big leaps in being a strong presence in berdlys life so they forge a kind of bond. maybe a friendship! maybe not. up to u honestly it’s ur character i just like playing in the space and had to share :-)

eating a salad rn and the shrek 2 bit made me inhale a piece of lettuce because every time i think of that scene i think about this specifically now

so i was just imagining giselle spinning around in her office chair - that she for some bizarre reason decided to bring to the dinner table instead of sitting in a normal chair - while toriel glares daggers and kris and berdly watch in awkward silence. and it killed me

ANYWAY IT'S FUNNY YOU BRING THIS UP because i was actually thinking about the same scenario. berdly actually didn't tell giselle he was going to the dance with kris as a Date at first, because just. habit of not talking to her about important things. and then he belatedly remembers they're on better terms so he tells her, awkwardly, and he's like BUT YOU DON'T NEED TO MAKE A BIG DEAL OUT OF IT OR ANYTHING, it's just a silly little dance.

much to his despair, giselle does make a big deal about it and she's like pestering him with questions about what he's going to wear, what kris is going to wear, are you two coordinating??? you two better be coordinating-- by this point she's known they were dating but if they're serious enough to go to the dance together, aka something that is really not up either of their alleys AT ALL,

maybe she should do that thing she's been putting off for a while now. talking to toriel. establishing just a bit of common ground with her. and so Dinner

toriel doesn't hold active animosity at all !! it's more so something giselle has fostered like - SHE responded to toriel with unnecessary hostility and toriel was like ok that's the game we're playing...?? basically toriel reached out to her a long time ago, when berdly was in her elementary class, because she had concerns about giselle's parenting and was worried she was letting work eat up too much of her time. stuff like giselle always being the last parent to come pick up berdly after school, berdly's marked aversion to joining the other kids in play, etc.

giselle's kind of a young mom? i guess if berdly is like 15-16 she's like... 34. so when this confrontation happened, she was still quite the hotheaded, spunky youngster (she's mellowed out a lot now). and she didn't take kindly to toriel's "overstepping" and kind of. blew up. "berdly is an incredibly capable child and does not need me smothering him the way YOU smother your own children."

yeah idk it's basically a butting of heads over parenting styles. toriel believes a child needs constant nurturing, and giselle believes a child needs Room to grow and needs the space to do their own thing. both of them take their respective approaches too far - toriel IS in fact smothering, and giselle is too distant. toriel has always been more mature than giselle and has been open to reconciliation from day one, if giselle will bow her head and take the steps to pursue it. which she hasn't been humble enough to do Until Now

the dinner is a bit of a mess. giselle is not a good cook and underestimates how long food takes to cook, so kris and toriel arrive a long time before anything is ready. berdly is Trying to help. he's begging her to let him help because she's so bad at this it's painful to watch. she keeps shooing him away - "i'm being a mom right now okay?! I'M going to cook for YOU." and once kris gets there she bans him from the kitchen entirely ("what is kris going to think? go spend time with them!")

i was thinking toriel actually helps her finish dinner instead ^^ which eases some of the tension and makes it easier for them to connect a bit later, when the kids aren't present. because when a teenager feels awkward they have this special power of making everyone else in the room feel 10x more awkward than they do. it's painful to sit through and berdly and kris eat as fast as physically possible and excuse themselves and i really do like the idea of toriel and giselle sitting together over a glass of wine or two... they'll never be besties but they have the potential to become decent friends once giselle sets some of her fiery pride aside :)

#berdly often insists he bears little resemblance to giselle but no you can SEE it. they have very similar personalities #giselle is just older and has had more time to tame her Attitude #ANYWAY THABK YOU FOR THE ASK I LOVE HEARING YOUR THOUGHTS always a good night when u send something in!!!!! 💗💗#mailbox #giselle

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

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Bloom, Bloom, Pow! |1| - CHANGMIN

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!! Please enjoy the first half of nearly 17k of pining for the boy I would be pining for if he was in my life <3

Special thanks to @wingkkun for helping me come up with several parts of this story!! I don’t know how you deal with me, Kai, but I really appreciate it <3

(Suggested playlist: Bloom Bloom, DDD, and Just U by The Boyz :D)

Pairing: Changmin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint, university!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 9.4k

Dancing with you, Changmin feels like flowers are blooming in his heart.

Part 1 | Part 2

TBZ Masterlist | Interwoven

~ you

It starts like this.

Ji Changmin is notorious for his dancing, not because he’s bad at it (he’s arguably one of the best students in the dance department), but for his habit of moonwalking through the university halls. Headphones stuck in his ears, phone in hand, he twists and twirls around campus, eyes closed in concentration or fixed on some faraway point in space, lost in the realm of his music.

And the strangest thing is, he never bumps into a single person.

Oh, he might brush against an arm or two. His fingertips might graze a shoulder with a butterfly’s touch, his feet just barely skimming over another’s shoes. But crashing into someone? Knocking into a wall? Never.

It’s fun to see, really, when you cross paths with him or when he shows up on the school Snapchat story. Even though you only know Changmin by name (Kevin talks to him, but you haven’t had the pleasure), there’s something endlessly graceful and fascinating about the way he moves, slipping through the crowded halls with the cheerful air of someone who doesn’t care about what other people around them think.

It starts with an impulse, just something to lighten up your mood. You’re walking to one of your least favorite classes (look, writing might be fun, but certainly not the way your professor teaches it) when Changmin’s bright orange mop of hair appears ahead. A slight smile creeps up your face as he comes closer, an unstoppable force parting the crowded sea of students.

An idea pops into your mind.

Trip him up.

Briefly, you question yourself. Why?

Like that meme, your brain supplies a concise answer. You gotta.

You’re grinning, moving before your mind can even process what your body has decided to do. Stepping awkwardly around a couple of other students, you place yourself right in Changmin’s path.

He twists.

You turn.

He lurches.

You step.

He flashes you a confused look, his usual faraway gaze replaced with something bemused and even slightly annoyed. For a second, you feel a flash of uncertainty – what if he doesn’t see this as the joke you mean it to be? After all, you don’t even know each other. How is he going to take this?

But he must see the teasing smile on your face and the glint in your gaze because his eyes sparkle, lips stretching wide into the brightest grin you’ve ever seen him wear. His moves take on an exaggerated cadence, arms stretching widely, legs smoothly twisting around your much less graceful feet as he twirls, just avoiding your flailing hands jokingly trying to stop him.

Changmin wins, of course. Your mediocre attempts at obstruction are nothing against his skill. As he slips away, he flashes you a smirk of farewell, leaving you with only the memory of a bright smile, graceful limbs, and an awkward dance.

You expect it to be a one-time thing. It’s so stupid when you think about it later – what the hell possessed you to do that, anyway? You’re cringing just thinking about it – so there’s no way, you tell yourself, no way that Changmin would bother to acknowledge your presence again. When you walk down the same hall a few days later and see a bright orange head of hair artfully bobbing in your direction, you just smile a bit at the residual memories.

But Changmin catches your eye, his gaze brightening when it meets yours. As the curve of his lips widens, one graceful finger twitches slightly in a tiny gesture – get over here. His eyes glint – try me.

A grin spreads across your face as you step closer. Why not?

And so, again, you dance.

. . . . .

~ changmin

Changmin doesn’t really know what makes you so special. He doesn’t know why he indulges your twists and turns, weaving in and out of your awkwardly stepping feet on the way to class. He doesn’t know why he didn’t just give you a weird look the first day you stepped into his path, avoided you as best he could and walked away.

But that would’ve erased the smile on your face, he reasons, thinking back to the memories. It would’ve extinguished the sparkle in your eye, muted the brightness of your expression into something far less brilliant. And despite the fact that Changmin barely knows who you are, has only a vague recollection of your name from when someone once called to you down the hall, in that moment, he subconsciously knew that there was nothing he would willingly do to dim your sparkle. Not a sparkle of beauty, necessarily, or of mere physical loveliness. No, in your smile, there’s something deeper, something brilliantly incandescent that strikes right into Changmin’s heart.

Other people think it’s stupid. Younghoon, for example, wonders if he’s gone absolutely nuts the first time he witnesses the dance (well, Changmin calls it a dance – Younghoon says it looks more like a cult ritual). “What the fuck was that?” he asks after you walk off, raising an extremely confused eyebrow.

Changmin just shrugs, watching your figure disappear down the hall before slipping back into his usual moonwalk. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “We just do it.”

“You’re so weird,” Younghoon mutters, shaking his head slightly. “Do you even know their name?”

Again, he shrugs. “Y/N, I think?”

Younghoon chokes. “You think?”

If Changmin thinks about it, it is kind of stupid. You stepped into his path in a crowded hallway and proceeded to try and trip him up, all while wearing a huge grin on your face (that Changmin thinks is beautiful, but he won’t dig into that just yet). Changmin, instead of trying to get away, decided to indulge your fun. You’ve never exchanged a single spoken word – he isn’t even sure you know his name, though he can’t really say anything because he isn’t sure he knows yours – and you’ve rarely interacted, even nonverbally, beyond a few smiles and the little confrontation that happens every Monday and Wednesday at approximately two-ten in the afternoon when the two of you walk down the same hall.

But it doesn’t feel stupid, not in the moment. It feels right, somehow, grinning as widely as his lips will allow while you try to step all over his toes. You never manage to trip him, not in those few seconds of dance, but Changmin appreciates the effort and laughs along with you, exaggerating his movements and pretending to almost fall, just to see the smile on your face grow wider.

So the stares don’t matter, not to Changmin. He can stomach the strange glances, the hidden smirks, the subtly raised phones trying to catch the scene for the school Snapchat story (anyway, if it bothers him enough, he can terrify Jaehyun into deleting it). He can shrug off Younghoon standing like a silent tree nearby, stuffing his face with bread and praying no one associates him with his squirrelly best friend, because seeing your brilliant smiles and hearing your stifled laughs are more than enough to get him through the rest of the day.

“You never smile that widely around me,” Younghoon remarks one day, “and I’m your best friend.”

Changmin just shrugs as he flashes you one last grin over the sea of students in the hall, turning back to face his friend. “Well,” he says, purposely trying to be infuriating, “there’s a reason for that.”

Younghoon whines, of course, pouting his lips in the way that wins him so many admirers around the school, but Changmin ignores it in favor of thinking about your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle and your limbs fly in your attempts to throw him off his balance.

Yes, he thinks, there’s a reason.

The reason is that your smile is more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen.

. . . . .

~ eric

Eric considers himself pretty well-versed when it comes to feelings. He’s fallen in love a lot, even with people he often doesn’t even know too well. Something just always pulls him in – a particular smile, a mischievous glint of the eye, the way they tap their pencil against their chin when deep in thought. He falls easily, quickly, and a little too hard, and as a result, he can recognize the look in his own eyes (and in others’, too) when he’s fallen head over heels for someone lovely.

He doesn’t have too many problems shooting his shot, either, which is nice. Sunwoo’s told Eric several times that he’s jealous of the way he can walk up to someone so easily and go, “Hey, I want to get to know you a little better – mind if I take you on a date?” To Eric, though, it’s just part of the process. He gets nervous, no doubt, but more often than not, if he’s courteous, he’ll at least meet a new friend, even if the feelings don’t end up being reciprocated.

When Eric slams into you on his board one day – what the fuck were you doing, anyway? Trying to trip up that wide-eyed kid with the dimples? Though to be fair, he shouldn’t be skateboarding in the halls – the first thing he notices is your pretty smile, the embarrassed grin you give him as he apologizes profusely, extending a hand to help you up. His heart thumps once.

True to himself, Eric’s ready to drop a flirty pickup line, make you laugh a little, and ask if he can get you a coffee or something to make up for the trouble. The words are forming on his lips, just about to burst from his throat when he feels a laser gaze glaring holes into his back.

Against his better judgement, Eric looks back slightly. The doe-eyed boy you were, what – interacting with? Dancing with? He needs to go over that scene in his head again – is staring back with so much concentration it looks like he wants to tear out Eric’s entire soul.

You drop Eric’s hand and he looks back, startled by the sudden lack of touch. “Don’t worry, really – I’m not hurt. Thanks for helping me up,” you say.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Your voice.

If Eric’s heart wasn’t already fluttering over your smile, it’s certainly fluttering now over your voice. God, it makes Eric want to just be your friend, at the very least. There’s a perfect mixture of warmth, gentility, and kindness in your tone, sprinkled with something so very sweet that soothes his ears.

Hell.

But by contrast, your smile is distant, like you’re thinking of something beyond the moment. Eric takes the current brief silence to look where your eyes flit off to, trying to see who you’re fixated on.

The doe-eyed boy is walking away, shifting gracefully through the group of students currently converging on the path. Your gaze follows his disappearing figure, something longing and endlessly lovely in your expression.

Ah, Eric realizes, heart sinking slightly. You’re already in love.

The memory of a gaze glaring holes into his soul briefly flashes in his mind, causing Eric’s slightly dampened smile to curl into a light smirk.

From the looks of it, the doe-eyed boy seems to be in love with you too.

Eric looks at you again. “I’m really sorry about that,” he says honestly. “I definitely shouldn’t have been skating in the hall, but I’m glad you aren’t hurt. I hope I haven’t made you late to class?”

You shake your head, smile now focused. You’ve returned to the present. “You’re good,” you reply, briefly checking your phone. “I’ve still got a few minutes.”

“Well, just the same, if you ever want payback in some form or another, just ask around for Eric Sohn.” Picking up his board, Eric flashes you a smile, wishing slightly that your longing gaze was fixed on him, not the dimpled boy who’s long since disappeared. “I can buy you a coffee or something to make up for it.”

“Might take you up on that one of these days,” you grin. “I’m Y/N. Wanna exchange numbers so I can leech that coffee off of you?”

Heart thumping wildly, fingers tapping quickly, Eric enters his number into your phone, saving himself as Eric Sohn 💙. He hopes you don’t mind the emoji.

“Blue heart?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you take the phone back. “Not a red one?”

Can’t exactly do that when it’s clear you’re in love, he thinks, though he doesn’t say that out loud. “Nah.” He shrugs. “Figured that’d be too much. Need to get to know you a bit before I do anything more, right?”

A sweet, soft smile spreads across your lips, and Eric has to fight hard not to melt at it. “I appreciate that, Eric,” you say, pocketing your phone. The way you say his name blooms in Eric’s ears. “See you later, maybe?”

Eric knows he probably shouldn’t make judgements so quickly, but it’s hard not to believe in your sweetness with your kind voice and gentle smile. You deserve love, he decides in that moment, with the doe-eyed, dimpled boy who clearly loves you back.

Mentally, he puts a stamp of approval on the mission formulating in his brain as he nods. “See you,” he says, grinning.

Even if he isn’t the one you’ll fall in love with, he can at least help a new friend find their happiness.

. . .

~ kevin

Kevin thinks there’s a special place in hell for lovebirds who clearly like each other but won’t even consider the notion of actually talking and maybe going on a god damn date.

And there’s an extra-special little island in that ocean of fire for such lovebirds who have never spoken a single word to each other in their lives and have only communicated through stupid smiles and mushy eyes and worst of all, motherfucking mating dances.

Yes, that’s what he calls your tiptoe-tap dance-whatever-the-fuck-they-are dances with Changmin. You hit him the first time he said it out loud, but what else can he call it? There’s no other term that fits the situation nearly as well. It’s weird and strange like most mating dances are, and most importantly, the two of you are head over heels in love.

“We’re not in love!” you snap when Kevin brings it up. “How can we be in love if we haven’t even spoken once?”

Kevin nearly spits out his drink.

“You’re telling me,” he enunciates slowly once he’s recovered, “that you have never spoken to this guy, the same guy you were worrying about to me yesterday because you didn’t see him in the hall on schedule, not even once?”

When you nod yes, scowling in embarrassment, Kevin legitimately faceplants into the table. He stays there for several whole minutes, trying to digest the situation and the sheer idiocy of two of his closest friends.

Doesn’t matter. You’re clearly in love, or at least have a very hopeless, incurable crush on Ji Changmin. And if Changmin’s face is anything to go by, he’s head over heels for you too – Kevin’s never seen his friend with that big of a smile on his face or that sparkly of a look in his eyes.

He wants to vomit just thinking of it.

Okay, fine, so maybe some of this abhorrent disgust is due to the fact that Kevin is single and not exactly ready to mingle after several disastrous blind dates. Maybe some of his annoyance at your mating dances is unfounded. But in his defense, the two of you are stupid as fuck.

He’s in the middle of complaining about this mating dance phenomenon to his freshman friend, Eric Sohn, when Eric puts out a hand. “Wait, stop,” he says, halting Kevin mid-complaint. “Are you talking about Y/N and that… that guy, with, like, really round eyes and a dimple?”

Kevin’s eyes narrow. “How do you know them?”

“Well, uh, I accidentally crashed into Y/N on my board while they were doing…” Eric helplessly waves his arms around.

“The mating dance,” Kevin supplies.

“That’s a horrible name, Kevin.”

“It’s the closest thing that explains it.”

“Well, whatever.” Eric cringes. “I gave Y/N my number in case they wanted me to like, buy a coffee or something in exchange for nearly committing a murder. So that’s how I know them. Not sure of the other guy’s name, though.”

Kevin sighs. “Ji Changmin.”

“THAT’S CHANGMIN?”

“Shut up!” Kevin snaps. “Just let the whole dorm hear your screaming, won’t you?”

“Sorry,” Eric snips back, though more quietly this time. “But you all talk about how he’s scary as shit and always dancing? He wasn’t dancing when he walked off, and he looks like… I don’t know, a child? I thought he was a freshman.”

“Wait.” Kevin puts his hands on Eric’s shoulders. “You just said Changmin wasn’t dancing when he walked off?”

Eric slowly shakes his head. “I don’t think so?”

“Oh, my dude.” Kevin begins shaking Eric back and forth. Eric’s head wobbles on his neck for several seconds before he comes to his senses and knocks Kevin’s hands off of his shoulders, scowling. “Eric Sohn, you are fucked.”

“What?” Eric’s eyes immediately turn panicked. “Why?”

“Ji Changmin dances all the fucking time,” Kevin says, putting his head in his hands. How has Eric already fucked up this badly in his first year? Kevin’s a mess, but he can say he’s solidly a B-level mess, meaning he more or less has his social shit together, even if not his academia. “If he wasn’t dancing when he walked away, that means he was pissed off.”

A beat of silence. Then – “Would it help if I had a semi-sort-of plan to get him and Y/N together?”

Kevin’s head snaps up. So maybe Eric isn’t entirely clueless. “So you know they’re literally in love with each other?”

Eric rolls his eyes. “It’s so obvious,” he whines. “Why haven’t you even thought to play Cupid?”

“Because Y/N is stupid and won’t admit that they have feelings, and I haven’t talked to Changmin that much this semester because we have different classes,” Kevin groans. “They’re both so stupid.”

“Eh.” Eric gets a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s hard for a lot of people to realize they’re in love.”

Silence falls as Kevin tries to pin down the familiarly weird feeling his friend is exuding. Eric’s gaze stays faraway, fixed on some point in the metaphorical distance (he’s staring at a wall covered in tacky posters and random sketches – there’s no way he’s enamored with Kevin’s half-baked drawings of trees and scissors and shit).

He looks sad.

“Oh, Eric.” Kevin’s frustration falls away as he pulls the freshman into a hug. “You like Y/N, don’t you?”

Eric doesn’t even deny it, he’s so far past that. “It’s stupid, Kevin. I’ll get over it, I always do. It’s just a crush.”

Not for the first time in his life, Kevin wishes he had his friend’s maturity, even though he wouldn’t enjoy the root cause. Falling in love as easily as Eric does would be too hard for Kevin to deal with. “Eric Sohn, you are one of the most selfless people in the world,” he declares. “You don’t have to do this, you know? If it hurts, you don’t.”

“No, Y/N deserves love.” Eric puts his chin on Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin takes the opportunity to pat his head. “Changmin does, too, and I think they’ll find it together. God knows he was staring holes into my back while we were talking.”

Kevin thinks he’s going to melt. “You’re dumb as fuck,” he says fondly, laughing at Eric’s squawk of indignation, “but you’re sweet. Too sweet for your own good.”

“… Is that a compliment?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” Kevin pulls back from his friend. “Ready to play Cupid?”

Eric nods, sadness partially replaced with mischievous fire. Kevin will take that much for now. “Yeah!”

. . . . .

~ changmin

Changmin doesn’t expect to be punched in the gut when he’s going with Younghoon to get a stupid cup of coffee.

Okay, no one actually punches him. But it certainly feels that way when he sees you sitting with the skater boy kid who knocked into you the other day, talking at a table by the window.

Younghoon doesn’t notice at first, just goes up to the counter to order at the (overpriced) campus Starbucks. Changmin loiters nearby, waiting for Younghoon to get his drink and come over, all the while trying to not obviously stare at you and the other kid having an animated conversation just a few feet away.

“What’s with the pout?” Younghoon asks, trying unsuccessfully to scare Changmin with his sudden presence. His own lips turning down with his failed attempt, he follows Changmin’s gaze to the two students sitting by the windows.

“I’m not pouting,” Changmin says, pout deepening.

Younghoon nearly spills his coffee, he snorts so hard. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll just pretend you’re not moping over someone you’re head over heels for whose name you don’t even know.”

If Younghoon actually spills his coffee when Changmin elbows him in the ribs, no one can tell. The look he gives the taller boy is enough to silence him for the next half an hour, at least.

He tries to focus, he really does. Though the drinks are overpriced, Changmin won’t deny that the coffee-scented air of the Starbucks is pleasant. It’s mid-afternoon, a time when most students are in class, so it isn’t too loud, either. But despite all of this, Changmin can’t focus on psychology. His eyes keep drifting over to the table by the window, where your conversation still hasn’t ended.

“Ji Changmin.” Younghoon waves a hand in front of his face after his concentration wanes for the umpteenth time. “You came here to study.”

This time, Changmin doesn’t deny the pout that settles on his lips. “I know,” he says, genuinely upset now. He wants to focus and get this studying done, he really does, but he just can’t put his mind to it.

Younghoon sighs. “Why don’t you just try talking?” he asks, eyes flickering over to where you’re still chatting animatedly with the skater boy. God, it’s been at least half an hour – haven’t you finished your drink? Why aren’t you gone yet? Why are you still here, invisibly punching Changmin in the chest every time you smile at the skater kid?

The words slip out of Changmin’s mouth before he can stop them. “What if they’re dating?”

There’s a moment of silence. Then Changmin realizes just what he’s indirectly admitted to his best friend.

Fuck.

“Well, that’s the first step.” Younghoon reaches over and pats Changmin on his slumped head. “Admitting your feelings. Proud of you, Changmin.”

Scowling, he slaps the hand off his hair, ignoring Younghoon’s yelp of indignation. “Not funny,” he whines, putting his head back down. “What if they are?” God, he should’ve helped you up before that skater boy did, run over and given you a hand first. Now skater boy’s on a date with you and Changmin feels…

Oh, God.

He’s jealous.

Shame and embarrassment flood his face at the realization. This is gross, his mind wails. Why does he feel jealous over you, someone he’s never even spoken to? The only semblance of interest you’ve given him is your initiation of the sidewalk dance. And maybe your smile.

Changmin’s pout deepens impossibly further. Actually, you probably give your lovely smile to every person you meet. He isn’t special. In fact, he’s betting that the skater kid fell for your smile too, the smile that makes it feel like stars are raining around his feet.

“Hey, earth to Changmin?” Younghoon waves a hand in front of his face. “You good?”

“No,” he replies, burying his head in his textbook again. “Leave me alone to mope.”

Younghoon just snorts, pats his head, then goes quiet, presumably back to studying. Meanwhile, Changmin doesn’t even bother to make a pretense of looking at his book anymore. He just stares into darkness.

Feelings, he decides, fucking suck.

. . .

~ you

Eric, you come to find, is a really fun guy. He might be a little awkward, but he’s clearly got a warm heart, and with every second you spend with him, you find yourself feeling more and more comfortable in his presence. With him, an entire hour and a half pass in a flash before you check your phone and realize you have class in less than ten minutes.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, hastily putting your things together. “Time passed so quickly. I didn’t keep you from doing anything important, did I?”

He just waves a hand. “Don’t worry!” The bright smile that’s been gracing his face this entire time grows even wider. “I don’t have a lot on my plate at the moment. It was fun talking to you.”

“Me, too.” You push your chair in. “Let’s do this again sometime? I’ll buy my own coffee, though.”

Eric’s grin makes him look like a puppy. You have the irrational urge to pat his head and coo. “Of course! See you later, Y/N.”

“See you.” Waving once, you exit the café, ready to head off to class.

Just outside the building, though, something makes you linger. You feel weird, like someone’s staring. Quickly, you look back through the window of the Starbucks. Eric’s still there, talking to a tall boy in one corner, but he isn’t looking at you.

Your gaze shifts, and invisible heat floods your cheeks as Ji Changmin stares back from behind the glass, seated at a table at the far end of the café.

He’s wearing glasses today, you notice blankly. They’re round, frame his eyes perfectly, and make him look god damn adorable.

Your heart flutters.

For a moment, you just stand there, rooted in place. What do I do here? you think desperately. What are you supposed to do when you’ve never actually spoken to him, only exchanged greetings in the form of weird dance steps (if they can even be called that) and, well, smiles?

Oh. Smiles.

Those work, you guess.

Slowly, you curl the corners of your lips into what you hope is a grin. It grows wider as Changmin smiles back, eyes crinkling and teeth showing as he waves to you from inside the café.

Your mood, already lightened by your conversation with Eric, skyrockets impossibly as you wave back, mouth splitting into a grin that stretches from ear to ear.

God, since when did just seeing Ji Changmin make you feel this happy?

In a moment of heightened stupidity, you point up to your eyes, drawing circles with your fingers in a motion that you hope indicates glasses. Changmin points to the frames on his face, and you nod, hands forming two thumbs ups, which your unthinking brain hopes will convey the fact that you really like how he looks with them on.

It feels like it should be impossible for Changmin’s smile to get any wider, but it does. Through the window, you watch him clap a hand to his mouth shyly, shoulders shaking slightly as he presumably laughs. It makes you laugh, too, and you wave one more time before walking away.

Then what you did actually hits you, and like that first time you stepped in Changmin’s path, you put your face in your hands and cringe as hard as your body will allow.

You really did that, you scold yourself. You really made circles with your fingers and gave him fucking thumbs ups because you liked his glasses.

You’re a fucking moron.

. . .

~ eric

When Eric walks up to Changmin’s table to talk to his friend, he immediately reevaluates his entire opinion of the doe-eyed boy.

His face is buried in the textbook when Eric starts approaching (which, first of all, mood). However, when he gets closer, Changmin lifts his head out of the pages and fixes him with the deadliest, pointiest glare that Eric has ever faced in his life.

Eric now sees why Kevin calls Changmin scary as fuck. The stare he gave when Eric crashed into you was nothing compared to this.

His eyes feel like daggers slowly slicing into Eric’s skin.

“Um.” Eric stops a couple feet away from the table Changmin’s sharing with the friend he needs to talk to. The friend looks up curiously, and Eric seizes the chance. “Can I, uh, talk to you? For a second?” he asks, desperately hoping they can get away from Changmin’s glare as soon as possible. “Please?”

The friend blinks once, then nods. “Be back in a minute, Changmin,” he says, about to stand up.

“Why can’t you talk to him here?”

Oh, God. If Eric wasn’t ready for the whiplash that came with seeing Changmin’s soft features versus his sharp glare, he really wasn’t ready for the soft tones of his voice contrasting with the venom blended in. Everything about Changmin, at first glance, screams innocence and sweetness.

What the fuck goes on behind that exterior?

“Um,” Eric stalls, desperately trying to think of an excuse. “I –”

“Don’t be rude, Changmin,” the friend cuts through smoothly, standing up. Eric immediately feels dwarfed by this guy’s long legs, but he doesn’t care as much as he normally might because he’s so glad he’s getting rescued. “Let’s go.”

The Starbucks isn’t large, but Eric follows the friend to a far corner, away from the table. Once they’re there, he clears his throat. “Um –”

“Are you dating them?” the tall guy interrupts. “The one you were here with before?”

Once the question settles in, Eric starts shaking his head violently. “No, no, I’m not. No. I just – well, I slammed into Y/N on my board, so I offered to buy coffee for us sometime to make up for it?” He tries to smile. “Not dating.”

“Oh, thank God.” The friend rubs his forehead. “Changmin was going to have an aneurysm.”

Well, that confirms that his near-death at the eyes of Ji Changmin wasn’t in vain. Relief and sadness run through Eric’s brain at the confirmation that yes, Changmin is head over heels for you. “Yeah, uh, I was actually going to ask about that.” He swallows. “Are you and Changmin close friends?”

A curious look. “Yeah, you could say that. Why?”

“Well, I don’t know if you know Kevin Moon, but he’s sick of watching Y/N and Changmin pine over each other without bothering to make a move,” Eric rushes out. He can still feel Changmin’s gaze boring holes into his skin. “But Kevin doesn’t have classes with Changmin this semester and he definitely hates my guts, so…” He sighs. God, this is harder than he thought it’d be. “Basically, are you tired of watching them pine, and do you have the time and energy to play Cupid with us?”

For a moment, Changmin’s friend just stands there, staring him right in the eyes Eric. Then a smirk spreads over his face. “Of course I do,” he says, now grinning like a god damn maniac. “Count me in.”

A breath of relief rushes out of Eric’s lips. “Thank God,” he mumbles. “Give me your number. We start plotting this weekend.”

His phone comes back to him with a new contact named Kim Younghoon in it. “Why are you doing this, anyway?” Changmin’s friend – Younghoon – asks as Eric puts the phone away. “What’s in it for you? Didn’t you only meet Y/N when you crashed?”

“Their pining is disgustingly obvious,” Eric says matter of factly. “I’ve been Kevin’s friend for years, and now I’m also Y/N’s. Why not alleviate both of their pain by getting them together?”

Younghoon looks at Eric, almost like he’s appraising him. Eric feels kind of like a bug under a microscope and he’s absolutely sure this tall guy is going to take back his agreement and call him weird before he suddenly smiles widely. “You’re cool,” Younghoon declares as though he’s just made a scientific discovery to rival Einstein’s photoelectric effect. “Looking forward to... whatever this is.”

With that, Eric ducks out of the café as fast as possible, leaving the smell of coffee and (thankfully) Changmin’s burning stares behind. Once outside, he pulls out his phone again and creates a group chat.

To: schemerz

Eric: younghoon and kevin say hi to each other

Kevin: hi younghoon

Younghoon: hi kevin

Step one of operation cupid is complete. Eric grins.

Eric: pack your bags boyz we begin scheming tomorrow

Younghoon: why do we need to pack bags

Younghoon: are we going somewhere

Okay, well, maybe this will take some time, Eric thinks, looking at Younghoon’s texts. But it can’t be that bad. You and Changmin are so obviously crushing on each other. It won’t take too much work to make get you two together, will it?

. . . . .

~ younghoon

Younghoon genuinely never knew that trying to get his best friend together with the person he likes could be this infuriating.

It’s not only that he has to continually reassure Changmin that no, skater boy – whose name is Eric Sohn, stop calling him skater boy, I can hear the “derogatory” even if you don’t say it out loud, Changmin – is not dating you, yes, he heard it with his own two ears, and yes, Eric said it with his own words. Saying this over and over, honestly, is annoying enough. Younghoon can deal with that, though. It’s just a product of Changmin’s own insecurity and lovesickness, nothing that he can control.

But actually trying to set the two of you up?

Torture.

They first devise a stroll at the mall, just to get you two to actually maybe talk. Kevin demands that this plan be put first because he cannot stop screaming over the fact that the two of you are so whipped but haven’t spoken a single word to each other ever.

Which, honestly, same. But at least Younghoon doesn’t yell about it in the group chat.

(Sometimes, looking at all of the capital letters in Kevin’s messages gives him a headache.)

The plan is to invite both you and Changmin to the mall, then ditch so the two of you will maybe actually exchange a few words with each other by the end of the day. It’s going pretty well – both of you have agreed to go, completely unaware that the other is showing up – but then you have to cancel because of a sudden quiz you need to study for the next day.

Well, fine. Younghoon just ends up shopping with Changmin for the entire afternoon (Eric still ditches for obvious reasons – cough, Changmin, cough – and Kevin has to study for the same quiz, which he curses about endlessly in the group chat for an entire day). Not a big deal. Younghoon likes clothes, and against his better judgement, he likes Changmin.

So no harm done. Besides, there’s always next time, right?

Wrong.

The university dance team has a concert coming up that Kevin begs you to go to, all under the guise of supposedly supporting one of his friends, Juyeon. When you show up at the venue, Younghoon can still tell you’re confused over why you’re there – you don’t really know Juyeon, he hears you hiss to Kevin, so what’s going on? – but you seem nice enough. Friendly enough. Younghoon likes you immediately.

This plan isn’t as straightforward as the mall-ditching one. A certain Ji Changmin is one of the best dancers on the team, so he has his own solo halfway through the show. Younghoon proposes that Kevin force you to show up so you can melt over Changmin’s performance and either profess your love right then and there (which is the ideal case) or at least compliment the dancer on his skills. Either way, it gets the two of you to talk.

So, suffice to say, Younghoon is pissed when his well thought-out, perfectly structured plan falls apart when you have to leave before the end of the entire show because your roommate needs you to do something or the other that is somehow more important than you confessing your undying love for Changmin.

(Nothing, he complains later in the group chat, could be more important than that. Not even your roommate nearly setting the whole dorm on fire. Eric might beg to disagree, but Younghoon will just tell him to beg.)

Well, it kind of works out. Your roommate’s fuckup doesn’t happen until after Changmin’s performance, and Younghoon gets a front row seat to your jaw literally dropping when he comes onstage and starts dancing the way his dance major body always does. Younghoon legitimately thinks he could pick stars out of your eyes, the way you’re staring at Changmin. And even though you have a hand over your mouth, he can easily tell you’re smiling like no tomorrow.

So Younghoon gets the satisfaction of both seeing your reaction to Changmin’s performance and telling Changmin that his crush watched him dance. The wave of shock that immediately crawls up his best friend’s face makes Younghoon want to cackle and shake his head at the same time. It gets even better when Younghoon relates the look on your face as you watched and the compliments you told him to pass on.

Changmin has never smiled that widely or that shyly, ever. As his best friend since childhood, Younghoon will attest to that. It’s amazing and offensive and slightly gross.

God, Changmin’s whipped.

But this small success doesn’t make up for half of the entire plan that failed. You and Changmin still didn’t talk, after all, even if you fell even deeper in disgusting love. So Kevin advocates for a return to the simple method of making plans and ditching.

This time, it’s a movie that the schemer line (hey, Younghoon came up with that name – he thinks it’s a damn sight better than Kevin’s “The Boyz,” regardless of what the younger boy says) plans to ditch you two at. Kevin suggests horror, mainly because he’s not going to be there to watch it, but also because of the ages-old cliché where you’ll probably get scared and hold Changmin’s hand or some shit.

(Younghoon knows it won’t be the other way around not because of some sexist idiocy, but because Changmin laughs at possession and ghosts and keeps horror movie masks in his room to scare his friends with. He thinks Annabelle and Chucky are cute. Worst case scenario, you happen to enjoy horror too, and the two of you bond over your weird interests. Which isn’t even a worst case scenario, because you two will talk, and that’s the whole point of the plan.)

They really think it’s going to work this time. Kevin reports you arriving on time to the theater and immediately runs off so you won’t see him and start asking questions like why he’s hiding behind the potted bushes outside a nearby bistro. Younghoon and Eric wait with bated breath at the campus café for any last-minute updates before Kevin gets back.

When Kevin actually shows up at the café, having taken the bus back from the theater, they’re about to celebrate a plan finally completed. Younghoon thinks he’s going to start screaming from relief.

Then a text shows up on Kevin’s phone from you, asking why he never showed up.

Panic.

When they finally get their minds together, Kevin rattles something off about a family emergency and a call he had to take, which gets you off his back for a bit. But then he asks if you actually went to see the movie anyway.

It turns out you left fifteen minutes later when no one showed up.

No one.

Meaning Changmin never got there either.

Eric slams his head on the table. Kevin looks like he’s about to explode. Younghoon himself is about to throw his drink at something when he gets a text from Changmin mere minutes later, asking where he is and why no one’s at the theater.

breadhoon: it’s so late?? why didn’t you text earlier??

qminnie: the bus was late :/// why isn’t anyone here? I know it’s not just because the theater is dark, I walked around all the seats and couldn’t find you or kevin

Kevin starts screaming.

As Eric’s shoving a yelling Kevin out of the café and apologizing to the baristas, Younghoon just fires off a quick excuse to Changmin, who’s apparently still at the theater – I’m really sorry, my dad called about something and it ran super late, just watch the movie and let me know how it is – all the while internally screaming as loudly as Kevin physically is in this moment.

Later that evening, Kevin texts the group chat with the question on all of their minds.

moon boy: how is it that all of our plans fucking failed

Younghoon just wants to jump off the top of his dorm building.

It turns out that Eric, despite being the youngest of the three of them, has the most brain cells. He proposes something so simple but with the potential to be so effective that it blows Younghoon’s mind.

“Well, if ditching them to be alone doesn’t work, we might as well just be there,” he reasons over morning cups of coffee (courtesy of Kevin, who lost rock paper scissors and is still pouting over it). “Someone throws a party, we all show up, and we can play, like, mafia. Or truth or dare or whatever. That’ll get them to interact, probably.”

It’s a beautiful plan. Younghoon hugs the younger boy and proclaims him the smartest freshman he’s ever met (“I’m pretty sure I’m the only freshman you’ve talked to this year, Younghoon.”). Kevin praises the higher beings for the seven tenths of a working brain cell that Eric holds.

They work out the details quickly. Sangyeon will host the party – he holds one every other month anyway, so it won’t be too much trouble to let him know what’s going on. Besides, his parties are usually pretty controlled, so less risk of someone doing something illegal and freaking everyone out. Younghoon, of course, will bring Changmin. Kevin will bring you and Eric. In turn, Eric says he’s going to bring his friend, Sunwoo, because, quote unquote, “I need a freshman to keep me sane after dealing with you messes of upperclassmen.”

(Well. He has a point. Younghoon may look put together, but the only things that register in his thoughts most of the time are anime and bread. Kevin doesn’t even bother looking put together, which only speaks volumes about his level of brain chaos.)

“If this doesn’t work,” Kevin declares the moment they finish hashing out the plan, “I’m going to drown myself in one of the fountains.”

“It will work,” Eric says, determined. “It has to.”

Younghoon doesn’t say anything. All of their past failures have taught him to keep his mouth shut. However, if this plan fails, he’ll gladly jump into a fountain with Kevin and inhale water up his nose.

. . . . .

~ you

“You’re not going to ditch me, are you?” you ask for the umpteenth time, narrowing your eyes once more at your (now exasperated) friend.

“No,” Kevin groans, rubbing his temples. “I’m not going to ditch you, and for the last time, there were emergencies, okay?”

You want to give them the benefit of the doubt, you really do. Especially Eric – there’s no way he would do anything malicious to you on purpose (meanwhile, if Kevin was mad enough, he just might), he’s just too sweet. But first Kevin dragged you to this dance show that you’ve never been to before, which was weird enough, and the timing for that last movie cancellation was too coincidental to not be suspicious. If it was just him cancelling, you might not question it, but none of the three showed up.

Kevin’s planning something, probably with Eric and Younghoon. You just don’t know what.

“Uh huh.” You make sure to show your disbelief in those two words as you walk up the steps to Sangyeon’s house. “Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”

“It’s so big,” Eric says from behind where he’s finally caught up to you two. His friend, Sunwoo, lingers quietly at his side, though his wide eyes betray his amazement.

“I always forget how big this place is,” Kevin agrees, ringing the doorbell. “Just stay on the ground floor, though, it’s not too bad. And watch your drinks. Sangyeon’s parties are usually pretty chill, but anything could happen.”

You snort. “Yes, Mom,” you mock, just as the host himself opens the door. “Hey, Sangyeon!”

“Y/N!” He pulls you and Kevin in for a short hug, then smiles at the visibly nervous freshmen standing behind you two. “Oh, hi! You must be Eric and Sunwoo, right?”

They just nod, still awed. Kevin stifles a snort as your lips curl into a fond smile – it’s weird to remember that you used to be a freshman just like them,. There isn’t much more time to think, though, because Sangyeon quickly ushers the four of you inside and all of your thoughts drown in the party’s chaos.

A couple of hours pass in mind-numbing peace. Kevin mixes you an atrocious cocktail that you pour down the sink when he isn’t looking. You watch Jacob shake his hips on the dance floor while Kevin twerks to Beyoncé. Even Eric and Sunwoo, who were originally just hovering around you, loosen up after a shot or two and find someone else they know to talk to, a freshman whose name you’re pretty sure is Hyunjoon.

Things are going well, you think in your tipsy haze. No one’s thrown up yet, no one’s passed out (well, Felix looks pretty sleepy, but he’s a sleepy drunk – how much Jisung already managed to give him to drink, you aren’t sure), and best of all, no one’s done anything stupid that’ll go viral on the school’s Snapchat. This is nice.

Then Kevin grabs you by the wrist, done twerking, and hollers unintelligible words in your ear as he drags you to the edge of the dance floor. He says more, but all you catch is “watch” and a yelled “YOUNG BOON.” Or something like that.

Confused, you just try not to spill your drink as Kevin pushes you through the crowd that’s forming in the living room. There’s a lot of yelling and cheering as the music changes, and then someone gets pushed to the middle of the dance floor.

A hand flies to your mouth.

It’s Changmin.

“Kevin,” you hiss. “Kevin! That’s Changmin!”

Even drunk, your friend manages to give you the most judgmental look you’ve ever seen. “No shit, Sherlock,” he snaps. “Just watch!”

For a moment, Changmin just stands in the middle of the circle that’s formed, eyes wide and doe-like (and absolutely fucking adorable, even under the red lighting). Then something in him shifts – it nearly gives you whiplash – and the dancer Changmin you saw that day Kevin dragged you to the concert comes out in full force.

It’s short, his performance, much shorter than the five-minute long solo he had at the concert. But holy fuck, it’s explosive. Even the smallest flicks of his fingers seem to send off sparks of light, red glinting off his face and the buttons on his shirt.

He has you captivated, so much so that you don’t register Kevin shifting until he’s positioned almost directly behind you. Changmin’s dance is winding down, a softer look coming back into his previously focused eyes, and everyone’s cheering and starting to clap before a harsh shove sends you sprawling forward.

For a moment, you stand right in front of Changmin, eyes undoubtedly wide with confusion as the situation filters through your muddled brain. Embarrassment begins to spread through your body as people begin to chant, “DANCE! DANCE! DANCE!”

Fuck.

This must have been Kevin’s plan.

Whipping your head around, you try to find and glare at your friend (you’re seriously rethinking that title), but he’s already disappeared. You then try to shrink back into the crowd, but they don’t let you. Someone plucks the cup from your hand, erasing your last excuse for leaving the circle of screaming partygoers as you look around desperately for a way out.

Then a hand extends into your vision, fingers twitching in a gesture you’ve come to associate with a certain person at a certain time at a certain place, two ten p.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays just inside the literature building.

Slowly, you look up to see Changmin shyly smiling back, eyes glinting in the way you’ve come to (not so) secretly adore.

A grin unconsciously spreads across your face as he launches back into his dance, more laid-back and flowy this time, much like the moonwalks he does down the halls at school. Almost on instinct, you lurch into his space, barely managing to brush over his foot as he nimbly steps away.

On a normal day, the dance you do is already messy and weird to passersby – you’ve made your way onto at least one of the university Snapchat stories already – so you can’t imagine how this looks in the moment. It must seem so uncoordinated, especially with your limbs loose with alcohol (Changmin still moves as steadily as ever, what the fuck) and the fact that you can’t really see where you’re stepping in the dim red light of the room. But it doesn’t matter – Changmin’s grinning so widely and you’re laughing, really laughing, loud enough to overpower what you think is Kevin’s yelling (it sounds something like “WHY ARE YOU DOING YOUR FUCKING MATING DANCE AND NOT DANCING LIKE A NORMAL PERSON?”, so it must be him), and everyone’s cheering and clapping and even though you can see a few phones being pulled out, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter. All that matters is your fingers brushing against Changmin’s, his laugh ringing in your ear, and the smiles on your faces until –

Until Changmin grabs your outstretched hand, tangling his fingers in yours, and encircles your waist with his free hand before dipping you down until his face hovers just a foot above yours.

Someone’s screaming, someone that definitely sounds like Kevin, but you can’t process it. Everything feels like you’re underwater – muffled, blurred, indecipherable. All you can think of is how fast your heart is beating, how hot your face feels, and how intensely Changmin is staring into your eyes.

Holy shit.

You can barely breathe.

When Changmin eventually lets you up to screams and hoots, your knees almost buckle. If not for his fingers still entangled in yours, you probably would’ve collapsed, but he seems to sense this and grips your hand even tighter.

The smile can’t leave your face, even though it turns smaller and shyer as the crowd disperses and you’re left holding Changmin’s hand for no reason. You should let go, probably, but you don’t want to, and Changmin doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it either. Still, the physical link between you two only grows more and more obvious as the two of you stand in silence, unable or unwilling to speak.

Changmin finally breaks it. “Hi,” he says in this voice that legitimately makes you want to crumble into the ground. It’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s something entirely uncharacteristic yet at the same time so fitting for the boy who just danced his heart out on Sangyeon’s living room floor. “I’m Changmin.”

Your voice leaves you, and the minute you take to find it feels like an eternity. These are your first words to him, your mind screams – don’t say anything stupid!

Staring into his sparkling doe eyes, you swallow hard before saying your first words to the boy who may or may not have already stolen your heart.

“Hi,” you say, smile threatening to grow even wider, wide enough to split your face. “I’m Y/N.”

. . .

~ changmin

He’s only heard three words from you, but Changmin thinks he could drown in your voice. It’s lovely, smooth in a way that flows over his body like warm spring rain. Willingly, he would stand under the shower of your gentle tones, putting his face to the sky and letting your words wash over him, soothing his skin.

Vaguely, his mind tells him that it’s way too early to start waxing poetic about your voice. You’ve only spoken three words to him, for fuck’s sake – what is he even doing?

A whisper that sounds suspiciously like Younghoon floats through his brain. You’re whipped.

Well. He just might be.

“Isn’t this kind of weird?” you suddenly say, jerking Changmin out of his you-induced haze. The smile on your face is a little embarrassed, now, and he catches you glancing at your fingers still linked with his. Briefly, he wonders if he should let go – he’s the one who first grabbed your hand, after all, what if you’re uncomfortable? – but you don’t seem to hate it. If anything, your smile grows a little shyer.

Changmin may think horror movie dolls are cute, but your smile is even cuter. He might melt right then and there.

Belatedly, he realizes you’re looking at him, waiting for a response. “Um – weird?” he replies, praying that his voice doesn’t crack.

(It doesn’t, not this time. Thank the lord.)

You look down again, this time at your feet. Probably out of embarrassment. “I mean,” you say, silvery voice tickling Changmin’s ears, “we’ve been interacting for at least several months.” The full force of your smile hits Changmin as you raise your head. “But we’ve barely spoken a word to each other.” When you laugh, he hears bells. “Isn’t that strange?”

“Well, when you put it that way, yeah.” Changmin giggles (yes, he fucking giggles, what the hell, why can’t he sound any cooler than he really is?). “But I think it was lucky. Well, I think I was lucky to meet you.”

He wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. He wasn’t fucking supposed to say that – what’s wrong with him? He used to be so good at watching his words – but at least, despite his embarrassment at having revealed this part of him, he gets to see you flustered. It’s adorable, he thinks, so much more adorable than anything else in the world. “How come you, um, stepped in my way that first time?” he asks, genuinely curious.

Changmin doesn’t expect the embarrassed snort that comes out of your mouth, but it makes him laugh. “You know that meme, the one where it’s like ‘why are you doing this?’ and your brain just says ‘you gotta?’” Rolling your eyes slightly, you snicker. “That’s what went through my mind. You never bump into anyone, so, well, someone had to try to mess you up.”

Changmin’s going to print a hundred copies of that meme and tape them all over his dorm. He will never be so grateful for a stinking Internet horcrux in his entire life.

Well, okay, he’s probably exaggerating. But still.

“That’s mean,” he says, purposely pouting his lips. “Why would you want to mess me up?”

You elbow his ribs, giggling. “Someone has to bring the king down at some point.”

Changmin’s about to take advantage of his current burst of confidence to respond to that – “You think I’m the king?” – and possibly fluster you even more, but someone’s yelling “LOVEBIRDS!” in a voice that sounds a little too much like Kevin’s. Both of you turn around instinctively, which probably only fuels the lovebird fire (though Changmin can’t bring himself to care at the moment).

“WE’RE PLAYING MAFIA!” someone else – is that Jaehyun? Probably – yells. “GET OVER HERE!”

“Mafia?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “That…”

Changmin can hear the exasperated apprehension in your voice. He hears it in his own whenever his friend group gets together to play the game. “Let’s just see what happens,” he suggests, trying hard not to melt when you look over at him. “Someone might do something stupid?”

Your laughter sounds like sparkles, wind chimes twinkling in the breeze. Changmin wonders what he wouldn’t give to hear it for the rest of his life. “You’re right, you’re right.” Glancing once more (and smiling a little wider) at your still-linked hands, you jerk your head in your friends’ direction. “Shall we?”

As he nods, Changmin privately thinks that there’s nothing in the world that could dissuade him from following you.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for this stupid oblivious couple GOD)

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normal-thoughts-official · 3 years

Note

Do you think Alec and Magnus use condoms? How do you think warlocks deal with STD?

REALLY interesting question, i must say that i love it. thank you anon. i hope you know that i will take it way too seriously

okay, so the first question is, ARE magnus and alec susceptible to STDs? unexpected p-words are not a problem because warlocks are sterile anyway (and, if you subscribe to both magnus and alec being of the same AGAB, also because it's not possible to get both gametes or whatever), so let's focus on the STD aspect (really important!). i think human STDs would not affect them, or at least not magnus. maybe alec because shadowhunters are notably more susceptible to weaknesses humans have, like disease and mortality and whatnot. but would human STDs affect warlocks?

i tend to go with no, because warlocks are immortal. immortality, especially as it is built in the sh verse (immortals can be killed but their body won't die on its own) kind of implies that they have, like, supercells or superorgans or something, that don't deteriorate - or, alternatively, that can rebuild way faster than they could be deterioriated. im saying that because stuff like aging and eventually dying is essentially the process in which your body can no longer replace dying cells at the same speed at which they die, which leads to your body weakening as a lot of its functions are impaired. therefore, immortality as in not aging and not dying on your own but still being able to be killed if you are, say, stabbed, implies that that process simply doesn't happen. so we have one of the two: either the cells don't die, or the speed at which they are replaced never changes

in my understanding, this implies that diseases don't affect immortals. maybe they can even contract them, but their body is too strong for it to have an effect. like having a disease without symptoms. but i tend to believe that rather than living with 8945134081 deadly viruses and bacteria inside them just sleeping around, the viruses and bacteria simply can't live inside them - both because superbody means super-immunological system and because superbody means that the bacteria and viruses essentially have no place to grow in, as they can't break their cells or whatever it is that that particular strain does

like - and that is true particularly for viruses as far as i remember, not so much bacteria - the way these mfs work is that they attack the cells of a body and use them to reproduce. but if you are talking about a body that has cells that are essentially unbreakable or so highly regenerative any attack on them is dealt with so quickly it doesn't even have an effect, i don't think any virus should be able to break into their cells in the first place. they would die without reproducing and bam, done. if you are going with the second theory (warlock cells do die, they just can keep replacing them as much as they want without a problem) then you probably have a situation where the virus can reproduce, but its reproduction doesn't lead to any problems because the dead cells are replaced as fast as they are killed. in that case, the warlock would be, technically, carrying the disease indefinitely. but i tend to think that considering how strong that body is and the fact that they have an immunological system (as they are half human and have no reason not to inherit that from their human parents) that is ALSO mega strong would mean these viruses would probably be eliminated quickly

bacterial diseases are different since mostly what bacterias do (again as far as i remember) is that they live inside the body, not necessarily inside the cells, but using the body's space to reproduce, and eventually their presence - usually due to the fact that they produce toxic elements that affect the host - leads to nearby cells dying/the space they are in deteriorating, etc. but again warlock's cells are either essentially unbreakable or highly regenerative, so that wouldn't be a problem, and they could overpower invasive bacteria easily before a colony could form. so, no human bacterial diseases would be able to flourish, either

and that's not even considering the fact that as they are half human they probably have an immunological system that is ALSO superstrong and therefore able to fuck up any disease causers. or the role magic might take in protecting the body, like, who's to say the magic itself doesn't kill any invasive bacteria or viruses that come into the body before it can do anything? why not?

so all of that, allied with the fact that many viruses and bacteria are evolved to develop within the systems of a particular species (for example, that particular virus has evolved to grow in a cow's digestive system, and therefore can't survive for long in a monkey's or a human's), is interpreted by me as "warlocks can't contract human diseases", since warlocks are a different species from humans, as are shadowhunters. sure, they're hybrids, which makes this part of the argument a little more complicated but obviously their demon side is stronger than their human side, since they are immortal. and demons definitely aren't getting rabies or whatever because that is just too fucking lame

so okay! no human STDs. we have established that now. bUT, i think it's possible that warlocks are able to contract their OWN diseases - strains that attack warlocks specifically, particularly a warlock's magic, since again they kind of have a superbody but i feel like the magic is a more fragile thing, especially as they aren't fully magical (because they're half human)

don't ask me how these work <3 obviously magic can interact with non-magical beings and elements so maybe there are bacteria are viruses that developed specifically to settle in magical components, but that sounds like a huge evolutive leap since magic is so different from like, cells. or maybe there are also magical beings that work as disease transmitters in a similar but essentially different way. and they probably can also be transmitted via sex because i mean, why not? sounds as good a mean as any

but, could magnus and alec transmit those to each other? i don't think so, because shadowhunters have wildly different magic from the one warlocks do - their magic is angel magic, warlock's is demon magic, AND, furthermore, they work in completely different ways. for starters, shadowhunters magic is so pathetic diluted that some of them don't even consider it magic at all. i mean, that is also because of good ole racism (hardly the first time racism led people to call the exact same thing by different names so they can convince themselves their way of being is superior even when it is the same) but there is a huge difference because warlocks are able to conjure and interact with magic and have it as a part of their beings and experience of the world through it, whereas shadowhunters can "borrow" particular powers for a small period of time at best. it is possible that the magic doesn't even exist within them, they are just capable of handling it inside their bodies for some time, which is why they need runes to use it and it has a limited effect

so i think diseases that affect warlocks could not be passed between magnus and alec, and WOW is it weird to realize that magnus and alec are of different species. like i knew that but when that knowledge comes to practice it's just so weird. anyway

and idk if diseases that affect warlocks would be able to live dormant inside shadowhunters and then be transmitted because, like i said, shadowhunters have completely different magic if they even have it at all, and i don't think the disease beings that live in warlock magic would be able to be inside their body. so, to answer your first question - i don't think magnus and alec would NEED condoms, because i don't think they are capable of passing STDs to each other, and in at the very least magnus' case (debatable for alec, i tend to think that because shadowhunters are essentially human they can catch any disease humans can, altho maybe they have a rune to begone them) i don't think they can even catch human STDs. and magnus has a cum kink so that probably means no condoms

as for how warlocks deal with STDs! like i said i think they are only affected by STDs (and diseases in general) that affect their magic, not their body. so, they probably have treatments for those. we gotta remember that warlocks have a very developed society full of academics, so they probably have worked to find cures for magical diseases, if they exist at all. so, there are probably particular treatments for those. i don't think magical diseases abound or anything, particularly because the amount of magical beings is pretty limited and magic is so different from non-magical elements so non-magical beings such as viruses and bacteria would have to change a lot to be able to evolve into magic-affecting beings. again, if they even exist. but yeah i think they as a (group of) society(ies) have worked on cures for those. which is funny to think about because like, do they blast the magical diseases with begone rays or something? please say yes. id love that

with all of that being said, i hope u know that i was planning on answering asks the next weekend (not this one, the other one) cuz ive been busy as hell lately and it'll be the first time i'll have time lmao, and i was literally just in a bathroom break between readings when i saw this ask and i just couldn't resist answering it. this is it. what broke my studying resolve. magical STDs. you should be proud

mandatory disclaimer that please for the love of god use condoms, you are not immune to STDs. also, this post is about show canon, not book canon, so i don't care if this is in accordance to what the books say. also, i'm no expert in healthcare, this post is just for fun, so don't take anything i used to build my arguments as scientific truth or anything like that

#sh #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #dirty words #hello everyone! i have been gone for quite some time. please accept: this #now back to studying #lore #meta #ask #anonymous #long post #im not sure if this is very comprehensible but i did my best

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

Through flames and oceans (for the fic title)

u know. this was supposed to not go the direction it did. but it did.

People say they will do a lot for love. They will walk through flames, cross an entire ocean for love.

Bruce tells himself that that’s the stupidest fucking thing people say. He, for one, will not do that. There is also the unspoken reason of that love really isn’t in the cards for him.

Currently, he’s running away from his ex-girlfriend’s dad, General Ross, because he may or may not have done some experimentation and turned into a rage monster, but also revealed some state secrets.

Come on, can you blame him? Cosmo said twenty-year-olds need to accomplish something before they hit thirty. And he’s quite sure he just made the list.

But as for love, he is thinking about it right now because his ex-girlfriend found a very nice girl named Valkyrie, and they’re kind of set to have an engagement party, and “would you please come to the United States to help us celebrate?”

Betty is a wonderful woman, really and truly. And Bruce is okay with how their relationship ended, because it’s not like Bruce could come to family dinner and expect anything besides murder or maybe cold potatoes. And Betty deserved someone far better than him, and from the picture that was sent, it looks like Valkyrie is an amazing catch.

But there is the small matter of making it to the States without getting caught. He is on quite a lot of “no-fly” and “travel restrictive” protocols. This sucks, by the way. He had frequent flier miles saved up and everything.

It sucks, at least, until he remembers Tony’s number and calls it.

(Tony had given him his number, but sometimes he forgets that four and nine are two distinctly different numbers.)

“Brucie, baby! What can I get for you? Don’t worry, the government hasn’t been able to tap my phone calls since I was seventeen and mostly joking about finding out where their secret weapons storage is.”

“Betty’s having her engagement party, and I’m invited. I kind of need a ride home.”

“Where are you located at, right now?”

“Buenos Aires.”

“You lucky son of a bitch, god I miss it there. You having a good time?”

“When I’m avoiding government agents, yes.”

“Hm, well i’m sending a new employee of mine to go and get you. Big guy, probably Swedish.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t presume if someone’s Swedish or not, Bruce. I’m a terrible person, but not that terrible.”

“I...I don’t follow your sense of humor.”

“No one does, that’s why celebrities call me avant garde and ahead of my time.”

“Good to know. What’s your new guy’s name?”

“Thor.”

“Are you...are you fucking with me?”

"Darling, you’d be having a much better time if I was.”

“I don’t like the energy we’re manifesting here,” Bruce deadpans.

Tony snorts. “Okay, hippie. He’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Just stay tight where you are, sugar.”

Thor is a gigantic man. He parts crowds like it’s what he was meant to do, and maybe it is. Bruce stares up at him.

“Hello Dr. Banner,” Thor says, smiling gently. “You are Dr. Ross’s friend, right?”

“Um...yeah. I am.”

“Excellent. I’m a friend of Valkyrie’s, is it okay if I go ahead and fly out to the airport nearest their house?”

“Uh, is Tony okay with that?”

“Of course. And we can stop at your house if you need anything.”

“Oh, I don’t have a house. Or an apartment. You would not believe how much the US government hates my credit score.”

Thor chuckles a little bit, leading him back to a nondescript car.

“Right this way.”

Thor is cool as a cucumber on the outside, as they’re driving. He’s mindlessly tapping on his phone as Bruce stares out the window.

Inside? Oh, Thor hates Val for this. So much.

so, you didn’t think to send me a picture of dr. banner? just the address?

lmaooooo called it. betty owes me something now. fuckin nerd. just ask him out.

no. we still have to bypass american security

which you are “old hat” at. or did i forget that you nearly almost charmed the pants off of one of the airline people?

we don’t speak of that.

relax. stark’s taking care of it anyway.

The airplane ride home is uneventful, thank god. One of Tony’s jets awaits, and the pilot is very surprised to see a man who ranks number four on America’s Most Wanted List to be there.

“You...you know Tony?”

“And you know what an NDA is,” Tony announces over the intercom. “Bruce, welcome. Mimosas are premade, in stock. Sit back and enjoy the ride! Thor, you do what you gotta do to make sure Bruce stays safe. Enjoy the bridal shower!”

The pilot is a bit apprehensive. But mostly okay. Bruce promises nothing’s going to happen, he’s just going to drink tea and catch up on news about the current state of things.

Bruce gets bored with finding out that things are still terrible, so he talks to Thor.

“So...are your parents just really into Norse mythology, or did they know you’d come out a huge guy who has the potential to probably stop Ragnarok?”

Thor chuckles, the laugh rumbling and deep.

(Okay, that’s hot.)

"My parents’ names were Odin and Frigga. You could say they were traditionalists when it came to my brother and I.”

“You mean...?”

“He embodies the name a bit too well for my taste, but yes.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah. Let me tell you about the time we accidentally crashed a fashion week thing...”

Bruce laughs a lot about that story. Thor’s laugh is majestic, and they sit a little bit closer.

By the time the plane lands, they’re great friends and Thor reaches over Bruce in the baggage area and wow that man has very defined muscles.

Not that that’s important. No, that’s like. Not important at all. So what if Thor is very well-muscled and maybe this will play into Bruce’s intrusive thoughts/daydream thoughts at later intervals? Does not matter. At all.

(Oh god the man smells like salty ocean air Bruce has got it so so bad. So Bad.)

Tony greets them at the landing pad with a wide grin, eyes lighting up.

“Well, don’t you two make the happy couple,” he teases. Bruce turns red. This does not go unnoticed.

“Bruce, honestly, you run away from government and my friendship, and this is what gets you--”

“A bridal shower? To get me home? Yes,” Bruce says, cutting in not-at-all smoothly. “Now, where are Betty and her bride staying at?”

“Oh, they’re staying at the cutest little bed and breakfast for their bridal shower. Rented out the whole thing--well Pepper did, it was our wedding gift to them, and of course I mean Pep’s wedding gift, because I have something else planned-”

“Please tell me that you do not have a house bought for them,” Thor says.

“Complete with a laboratory and gymnasium,” Tony says with a wink. “I’m kidding, they already have a house. I just kind of kicked them out for a week while I remodel their entire kitchen. Val gave me the colors, I was surprised that she has taste.”

“If she hears you say that, she’ll kick your ass.”

“Which is why she won’t,” Tony reminds Thor. “Now, let’s get to unpacking. Bruce, I’m getting you some good shampoo, holy shit your hair sucks.”

“Thank you Tony, I love and value our friendship and our kindness towards each other as well,” Bruce deadpans.

“Oh come on, you have to look good. It’s your ex’s wedding party!”

“You make us sound so dramatic,” Bruce says with a snort. “We broke up. Big deal.”

“You and Betty...?” Thor asks.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. We were dating, and then I pissed off her dad, who happens to be a general. I mean, also the government. But mostly her dad.”

“Wow.”

Thor’s type shouldn’t be feral scientist. But it is.

They’re led inside, and Tony bids them goodbye.

“Duty calls,” Tony says airily, waving. “Make yourself at home, don’t put coffee grounds down the disposal or I will kick you out. Rogers is still nursing his wounds.”

“Noted,” Bruce says.

“I drink tea,” Thor answers.

Bruce shares a look.

“You too?”

“Yeah, I prefer it over coffee most of the time.”

Bruce smiles.

“I think we’re going to get along.”

They have a couple of days until the wedding party, and Thor has never seen New York. Bruce is fairly sure that no one will even see him on the CCTV footage as long as he’s walking next to Thor, so he deems it good enough to go and get a bagel.

Thor is a very gentle man. That’s a good quality.

He smiles at a little girl, who is staring, open-mouthed. Even gives her a little wave. Bruce grins.

“You like kids?”

“I do. They mostly just want to have fun, want to see what the best of the world is. I think we all need that occasionally.”

“I’ve never thought of that,” Bruce confesses. He takes a sip of his coffee.

“I love watching my cousins,” Thor continues. “The way they grow and figure it all out, it’s rewarding. What about your family?”

Bruce freezes.

“Um. I don’t exactly have a family.”

“Then you’ll just have to meet some of my cousins,” Thor amends, smiling as he sips his drink. “You’d like them.”

“I’d like that,” Bruce says, grinning. “What’s next on our New York agenda?”

"I told Loki I’d visit some stores for him and pick up some items he’s been wanting.”

Have you ever seen a sales associate from Chanel be terrified at your presence? No? It’s worth it.

Bruce is kind of concerned.

“I...are you...?”

“My name is Robert, uncanny similarities,” Bruce responds. “We both were born in Ohio.”

“Why is it always Ohio,” Thor mutters. “You reckon my brother would want this shoe or that?”

“Ooh, definitely go with the heel. I think that’s good.”

“Gotcha.”

Next shop is Dior.

This goes a bit out of hand. His whole line about being Robert with Incredible Similarity does not go as planned.

He and Thor are on a subway, currently running away from some authority figures and calling Tony.

“I was in the middle of learning drama about high society that I can use in my next romance novel, are you joking?” Tony hisses.

“You write romance novels?” Thor asks.

“Now is not the time to question that, I’m in the middle of making sure you get a car to your next stop. How well do you both know what a Chrysler is?”

“The building, right?”

“God, I hate you so much,” Tony groans. “No, um...it looks like the wing things that they give army people when they do something that I guess they think is cool.”

“Oh. Okay. Get in that car?”

“Yes. It’s gonna be red with silver detailing.”

“Tony, they’re gonna know it’s us.”

“Believe me, they won’t. Trust me.”

So as it turns out, it’s not the most ostentatious vehicle.

Because Tony pulls up in a lifted pick-up truck, painted a sparkling, neon green with bright orange wheels.

It is the ugliest goddamn thing Bruce has ever seen. Also the most effective.

Thor nearly shoves Bruce into the car, and they’re sitting too close, and Bruce probably shouldn’t be focusing on the fact that Thor’s hair is now artfully messy, but here he is. Doing that.

“So, sorry that before the wedding shower we’re being hunted down by the government.”

“Not the worst thing that I could be doing on a Friday,” Thor says with a shrug. “I think you’re just about the most interesting person I’ve met, Bruce.”

He smiles at him. Bruce’s heart skips a beat. He can’t tell if it’s because of the eye contact or the fact that they’re in close proximity. Maybe both.

“You wanna go on a date after all this?” Bruce blurts out.

He does. And as soon as he says it, he kind of regrets it because they’re in a car with glittery silver interior seats and he’s also in pants that have seen better days, and his hair is a Mess.

(Also self-esteem issues, but Bruce is used to that so he’s not counting it.)

“Like, after we get home or when the government gives up on finding you?”

“I don’t know. Whichever one comes first?”

“Technically, I think I count as army jurisdiction, and military budget is a fountain of money.”

“Ah. Then home it is. How do you feel about ordering in?”

“Mm, sounds good,” Bruce says, grinning. “You’re the best.”

“Well, I certainly try,” Thor says, grinning right back. “You wanna go to Betty and Val’s shower together?”

“Yes. Do we have to amend our ‘how-we-met’ story?”

“Not at all. Valkyrie used to run an underground fight ring. She knows the feeling.”

“How has that not come up in conversation?”

“We were kind of preoccupied trying to figure out what a Chrysler car looked like.”

“Oh, true.”

At the wedding party, Bruce and Thor are very happy. Betty and Val roll their eyes and laugh as they talk.

“Leave it to my dad to ruin everything,” Betty gripes.

“Well he didn’t ruin this party or my meeting Thor,” Bruce defends. “Besides, you know what happens if he steps a foot near you.”

Betty grins.

“You serious?”

“Can’t promise you’ll get your security deposit back, but yes.”

Betty pulls him into a hug.

“You’re too sweet to me.”

“Yeah, tell me that after he steps on the limousine.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry,” Thor says, grinning. “I think Tony has some sort of security feature worked in.”

“Oh, he does,” Val says. “He’s threatened to pull some of the contracts for safety gear. Won’t go through with it, but Ross can’t touch the wedding. Best gift ever.”

When the party gets late, Thor and Bruce are sitting out on the porch. Clean-up is happening, and they’re taking a break. Thor thinks that Bruce has never looked more beautiful in a rumpled yellow shirt, soft lights making his face glow.

“I’m glad I met you,” Thor murmurs, moving a stray curl.

“Really?” Bruce asks, smiling softly. “I think I’m glad I met you too.”

Bruce grins behind his door when they make it home. Thor had kissed him on the cheek, and while that wasn’t too big of a deal, it was a big deal to him.

“See you in the morning, dear,” Thor had told him.

He was going to be up half the night with that line running through his head.

A lot of people do a lot of things for love. Bruce still wouldn’t walk through flames, or swim across an entire ocean, but he’s starting to understand.

#lovelyirony writes #GOD. this was supposed to be sad and now it isn't only because i had a funnie thought #thorbruce #bruce banner #thor #tony stark #betty ross #valkyrie #OF COURSE I PUT A RAREPAIR SHIP IN THERE WHAT ELSE WOULD I HAVE DONE?#valbetty #idk what the ship is called but i like #thor is In Love #Bruce is Awkard but u know what. okay #go him #best line is about the chrysler

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jidai · 3 years

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jidai’s budget mutuals/friends appreciation

Hi, all! I’m quite late with this but I decided to put a small friends and mutual appreciations post in hopes of brightening up the end of this year a little bit. ❤️ If you were tagged, please make sure to check below for a small little message from me. However, I want to make it very clear that I truly appreciate all of my mutuals. You guys brighten up my dash and always reblog or create so many funny and creative posts. I just wanted to give a few special shout outs to those that have taken out the time to reach out and interacted with me past my ask box or we just see each other often.

The messages are ordered by your URL, so you might have to scroll for awhile before you see your messages. I’m so sorry lmao.

Happy New Years, everyone!

@25th, Nonnie, the Young Genius. bro, remind me how old you are 🧍‍♀️ Like my brain CANNOT fathom the thought that you’re so skilled at SO many things and you’re not even in your twenties??? PLEASE SPARE THE TALENT. i will even accept crumbs. But I’m writing to tell you that you are such a wonderful presence on my dash. I always look forward to your gfx. They’re so SO good and you’re improving from one post to another. Like WOW. Now, you’re even starting an art blog, too? You’re so dedicated to the arts. I respect that a lot. Your hard work and commitment will bring you very far in life, whatever you decide to do.

I love interacting with you. You’re such a big sweetheart and full of positivity and energy. I look forward to seeing more of your art and gfx ❤️

@biscuitwalk, Dann, the AK Wiz. Dann, I know you’re not as active on here so idk when or if you will ever read this but I want to say that I miss you and your creations so, so much. I will say it a hundred times over and OVER but you inspire me so goddamn much. You have no fucking idea. Your works are absolutely gorgeous and unique. I can look at it once and I can instantly recognize your style (and your cute lil’ pufferfish <3). The way you utilize colors and implement various techniques, shapes, textures into your work. Goddamn, you’re so good. I always look to your work if I ever need inspiration and they help me brainstorm. God, I wish I could put it into words how much I adore your works.

We didn’t really talk for long but you seemed like such a kind and fun person to be around. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, wherever you are. Stay safe <3

@elriccs, Mirai, the Short King. 🧍‍♀️ ok look I know, I know I’m TERRIBLE at replying to you and I’m so fucking sorry. I absolutely love to talk to you but my dumbass cannot seem to reply in a timely manner LASELKSAL. That’s on me and I gotta do better. Anyways!!! Thank you SO fucking much for always leaving such kind messages on my work. I swear to god you’re one of my biggest hype man and I ALWAYS look forward to reading your tags. They’re so funny and it makes me all tingly and happy inside. Bro, like, you just radiate big fun vibes, bro. I really hope that I can get to know you better so I can just insult you until it’s too late to walk away </3

And of course, let me also remind you that I love your works so much. They way that you utilize your textures and those muted colors... OOMPH *chefs kiss* I will always love--

@lockhvrts, Em the Soulsborne GOD. hi em 🥺 it’s been awhile since I’ve had a proper conversation with you and I hope you’re doing okay! I miss you and our conversations where we do nothing but geek out and complain about the game industry lmao. if you manage to read this, I just wanted to let you know I miss your presence here. It’s been kinda dull not seeing your beautiful soulsborne gifs and your game rants. Let’s catch up soon. <3 stay safe and well!

@nathanprescutt, Benn, the Man. BENNNNNNNN. I love you a lot bro. I know we haven’t had long conversations for some time and I hope I can change that! You were my first friend on this blog and I will always appreciate it. I remember us just geeking out over your works and how I would always send you a gfx request like once a week LMAO. The one thing that I have always appreciated about you was the fact that you’re very opinionated (if not, very vocal on your stance on things) and you hold your ground. There were a few time where you encouraged me to speak on topics that I think I shouldn’t and that stuck with me for quite awhile. I’m still a nervous rambling mess when it comes to debates but just know that the one time you supported me to voice my opinion--I hold it very dear to my heart.

While I don’t spend much time together, I will always remember our animal crossing session. It was so much fun just trashing and chilling on your island. Especially the bar :( that bar was fucking AMAZING. Maybe once FFXVI comes out, we can geek out hehe

Also, thank you so much for sending in photos of all your doggos, omg. I miss seeing them so much I hope they’re doing well. Stay hot, my German bro lol. Ich bin sehr dankbar, so eine tolle Freundin zu haben. ❤️❤️❤️

@noxdivina, Lin the Big Dick Daddy Kind. The church is open for business bitch and I’m here to preach the GOSPEL.

Okay, jokes aside, I’m really happy that we became mutuals. You’ve always give off this like, mysterious cosmic vibe (????? huh). And your selfies just further proves that you are wtf. But you’re always so kind to those that you interact with. You’re an absolutely sweetheart and like I just want to give you a giant hug every time we interact. You’re such a soft human being. It’s so nice being around you. It’s like being tossed in the oven and baked at 250 degrees F for 25 minutes. And to boot you’re really talented, hello? God really said let there be a perfect human being and yeeted you into the universe. Thank you for always leaving such kind messages and words in my DM/askbox/works. I cherish them so much. I hope I can get to know you better in the future bc you’re rad, bro <3

anyways, updated drawing of u and maya:

i always assume you’re in a black fur parka 24/7 and maya is coatless neck down. also deck me with those jacked arms of yours thanks 🧍‍♀️

(edit: fuck i forgot to draw a PARTY HAT ON MAYA IM SORRY)

@rokuseis, Sei, the Dumber.

i have nothing to say to you go away you banana hater ASELKSAEKL

BITCH, you doo bee getting on my nerve 24/7/365 🧍‍♀️ you were an unexpected but a very welcomed addition to my life. I can’t believe we really went 1 fuckin’ year without speaking to each other and then suddenly our friendship blew up because over a stupid BANANA. Now you gotta deal with me and my stupid, random, crude ass messages daily. I cannot. Clown to clown communication. But thank you so much bitch for being there for me and telling all of these funny ass stories and life experiences.

I know I don’t say it a lot because when we talk it’s literally just dogs barking at each other but I want to make it clear now: I love your humor and vibe so much. You never fail to make me laugh anytime I talk to you and I appreciate it so much. I can’t tell you how many times I felt better after talking to you. Even though sometimes your fucking jab hits hard and I end up actually inSULTED BY IT. But thank you for becoming my friend and I look forward to all of our stupid moments together. Looking forward to shitting in your sink when I finally fly to your home <3

@wolfamongthem, Anna, the Grinch. Please don’t hurt me for that title. I'm just saying if someone needs a live casting, it’ll be u. Anyways, did you know that I was so fucking intimidated by you for a long ass time, even before we became mutuals aseljas LMAO. I always see your gifs around on explore and they’re so gorgeous and then I look at your text posts and it’s u roasting people like there’s no tomorrow- 🧍‍♀️ bitch I was SCARED OF U KSKS. Now that I’ve talked to you a few times, you’re really funny like where do you find those reaction memes????? Like bro you and your shitposts is my morning cup of coffee.

Anyways, in 2021 I expect a full-fledge review of all AAA games from you-- no more shit talking in the tags let it all out BITCH. Thank you for being such a great mutual! I look forward to see what weird shit you will send me the next time we talk lmao

@zenien, Selm, the I’m-gay-for-Lady-Maria-or-anything-that-moves-in-BB-Bitch™. ok bitch if I’m being honest I wrote yours last so my brain is FRIED. so everything i say from here is raw from the HEARt cause that’s all I got left. But anyhow, we savin’ the best for last! honestly, i didn’t expect you to barge into my life like that. i really didn’t. i was just gonna keep admiring with my 7 feet (2.1336 meters) pole. I’m glad you made the first move because look where we are wtf 🧍‍♀️ friends??? I wouldn’t believe you if you told me that in 2014 when I first followed you lmao.

You’re such a kind soul. I know you may disagree but I’m determined to convince you. I can’t tell you how much I want to thank you for taking the time to talk to me during my rough bits. It’s like sitting on a wooden bench in a park during sunset and you sit next to me, just enjoying the vast sky. You radiate such peaceful energy. It’s very calming. Or you know, 2 seconds later i’m suddenly suplexed by your 40 tons of insults like what--

Thank you for everything, so far. Truly. It’s been so fun listening to you talk about your Bloodborne journey and see your reactions live. It’s been so fun to see you post your graphics and it continues to blow me away. It’s been so fun hearing about your life and the stories of your adulthood. Every words that we have exchanged, I hold dearly to my heart--more than you ever know. Love u bitch.

#for mutuals #mutuals don't ask about your titles i was being quirky LMAO #this took so long so i hope it works properly sksks #it hasn't been proofread so enjoy the mess

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lunar-lair · 4 years

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Few lil extra details abt the dead Reigen AU just cause I felt like mentioning them:

Reigen also lacks shoes, for,,,,,,obvious reasons. He doesn't really notice, though; it isn't much of a difference for a spirit, ya know?

Fun fact, when he possesses someone for too long-say...5 hours or more, smth like that-blood starts dripping from their right temple. It doesn't hurt; hell, it doesn't even have a source, and normal people can't even see it cause it's Ghost Shit, but I just wanted to give him a version of Dimple's...you know, dimples. It's his giveaway, one of those things that would tip an esper off to a possession outside of spiritual presence.

*Grabs you by the shoulders* dimple can be a parent figure to reigen.

*DIMPLE CAN BE A PARENT FIGURE TO REIGEN*

Like,,,,,,,,,ghost adult, ghost teen, bada bing bada boom u've got urself a tiny ghost family

It's like that concept where Reigen adopts Teruki, kinda, w the personalities, but just. Ghost Time u kno

Also Ekuseri is the central adult ship!! Yaaaayy obscure ships

It's kind of the only option-well, the only semi-popular option-with Reigen out of the picture, and I thought the idea could be fun, especially with the two of them being the only adults among a sea of kids + 1 dead kid.

Speaking of which, they are, indeed, The Local Dads, once Serizawa gets his shit together after Claw. (Though, he sees Reigen as more of an odd-circumstanced friend due to Backstory Reasons, which I'll reveal next; not tonight, though...I'll leave you all wondering a little bit longer ;))

Also speaking of which, in this AU, the Kageyamas step up a little to help out the kids and inegrate Serizawa back into society a little. They're my Replacement Reigen for situations where he would have to be A Adult to do the thing he does in canon, basically.

But you know that galaxy brain idea where the Kageyamas basically adopt Reigen? That but Serizawa

I'm still not sure if he'll just live with the Kageyamas or not? He doesn't have the office now, is all, so I don't know,,,,,,how or where he would. Go to work. Maybe he finds a good convience store job once they've helped him out a little, and he just stays until he finds a good apartment, basically.

Yeah, I think that'll work, we'll go with that

Other notes, Reigen *does* curse a lot in this AU due to that mentioned gang, and he's also about just as excitable as any other tiney Reigen you see floating around

Along with the added sass, Mob gets and makes jokes a little more in this AU due to Reigen helping him figure them out. He's still emotionally dulled at first, and he's still socially awkward, of course, but having a friend his age (spirit or not) helped boost him along a little.

Reigen used to be a little easily annoyed when trying to get Mob to understand a joke, but he's used to walking Mob through them, now.

Reigen himself is actually a little less rude here because Mob was actually able to call him out on it instead of just taking it, too.

They have an *endless* fount of inside jokes. (Mob is very proud of them; usually *he's* the one who can't get the joke, but now it's one only him and Arataka can get.)

Reigen doesn't like possessing people much; he doesn't like the idea of puppeting someone's body around without their permission, and it reminds him just a *little* too much that he's a Whole Ass Ghost, y'know?

But Mob?

That's a whole different ballpark.

Mob lets Reigen possess him a lot to have conversations when it's just hard to talk, when one of them is sad and they just want some Comfort (beyond what laying down together can get them), or when Reigen is hella tired and needs a goddamn nap. (He takes the best ones curled up in the back of Mob's brain, letting him take control while Reigen hides out in his body.)

It's useful for keeping Reigen safe from espers or other ghosts, sometimes, it allows Reigen to fight people for Mob...it's just useful all around.

But due to how often Reigen possesses him, they're really good at fluently switching control, and sometimes it's kinda trippy, cause they both talk to you or each other through Mob's body and his face switches wildly back and forth between Reigen's expression and his own flat one, his voice and Reigen's, and it's just a little Wild. (Mob has complained (jokingly) more than once of aching cheeks after a possession session (yes Reigen came up with that name) due to how much Reigen smiles.

Reigen just smiles back at him and says 'thaaat'ss my job!' all drawn out and happy with a thumb pointing at his chest every time.)

Speaking of Reigen fighting, he's also still got his fighting skills! Again, gang, you know how it is.

Ritsu still doesn't like Reigen, but it's more cause he's jealous and wary of him from what he hears than anything else.

After seeing how close he really is to his brother, though, he warms up quickly enough.

Teruki kinda just thinks Reigen's really cool in this AU instead of like,,,,,admiring him. They just become pretty good friends, vibing and going 'o shit me too!!' when one of them talks about putting up an act and shit.

Teruki kinda becomes Reigen's dumping center for the small circle of bullshit Mob didn't quite get and Reigen becomes Teruki's dumping center in return.

They also sass each other. They sass each other A Lot. Half of their conversations are joking insults; same goes for Ritsu, honestly.

Get the three of them together and they'll just roast each other for an hour, laughing at every other one bc 'oh my God that dug *deep,* absolutely perfect!'

Mob's glad Reigen has people he can be unsensitive with after all those years of dealing with him, genuinely and totally. Reigen's first response has always been something rude, whether he means it or not, and while Mob understood most of that, some of those insults got to Mob even if he didn't really want them to, and over the years, Reigen started doctoring his responses. Now he didn't have to, really, when every insult was a joke.

(You've gotta wonder why he resorts to insults immediately for humor, though, huh? Makes you wonder if he had to see the bright side of some insults, huh?

Just more backstory hints, poking out. ;))

Well that got..........way longer than I intended it to

But here are a lot of the basic foundation points for the series; things that are always applicable, or just general notes on how relationships and things like that go/will be going. I'll probably make another post adding on to this-or maybe even just reblog this one, who knows-as I go along and establish some other general ideas for Mob and Reigen's friendship, more on Tome, etc., but until then, here's my pile!

I'll be making separate posts for all of the plot points/ important things in the AU as I go, too, starting with Reigen's past, whenever I get to it. Hope you're glad I'm dropping hints ;)

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poisxnyouth · 4 years

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teacher dave chapter 5 (d.d)

A/N: well...........here we are........aren’t we? it’s been a while (over a year...). to all of y’all who have been in my inbox begging for this for so long - this is for u <3 -hailey

WC: 3.1K

“Shut up,” David whispers harshly as you hike up your skirt, propping yourself against a shelf in his storage room. The sound of his fingers tugging down the zipper of his black jeans seems too loud, juxtaposed with the noises of your breathing. You don’t pay attention, hands on the back of his neck, as he tears open a condom and rolls it on, stuffing the wrapper in the breast pocket of his white dress shirt. He spreads your legs and supports your weight against the shelf, routinely placing a hand over your mouth as he slips it in slowly.

David feels you breathe heavier into his hand, eyes boring into yours, before he pulls it away and drops his head to your shoulder, hips moving steadily. He goes carefully, both hands gripping your hips tightly and holding you up as he fucks into you, the only noise being the conglomeration of your quiet breathing. On a particularly harder movement, you gasp as he hits deeper and the shelf shoves against the wall loudly, your legs wrapping around his waist. He makes a lower noise in the back of his throat before you speak in a whisper, “Is Miss Sh-”

“Be quiet,” he cuts you off, shaking his head, “I really don’t want to think about her right now.”

You nod as David’s grip readjusts, pushing your thighs up and pinning you to the shelving, leaning up and attaching your mouths. The strip of wood is pressing perpendicularly into your spine and you can already feel the bruises David’s pressure is going to leave, his teeth gently clashing with yours as he continues his movements.

It only takes a small whimper into his mouth for him to pull away and put his hand over your lips once more, eyes scanning your face deliberately. He whispers quietly, voice gruff, “You like this?”

You nod against his grasp, a silent urgence for him to speak more, “Get yourself off. I would do it, but I’ve got my hands full.”

You obey, fingers running from the nape of his neck down his shoulders and his front, moving to touch yourself. David’s gaze drops between you as your free hand tangles strands of his hair between your fingers, his breathing heavy, “Faster, honey. We gotta hurry this shit up. It’s taking too long.”

His hips speed up, too, hitting deeper, and you feel his fingertips press harder into your skin as you get closer. David shuts himself up as he cums by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, simultaneously tugging each other closer. He slinks away quietly moments after, removing the condom and tying it as you move to slip the sleeves of your blouse back over your arms and adjust your underwear. He does the same, rebuttoning and tucking his dress shirt, quickly tying his tie into a Pratt knot. David’s rebuckling his belt as he watches you peek under the fabric to glance at the marks on your shoulder, quietly speaking, “Sorry, baby. It’s habit now.”

The new outlines of his teeth on your shoulder aren't the only ones, accompanied by deep violet bruises embossed into your skin from previous storage room sessions. He does it to keep himself quiet, and they always bruise deeply, but it catches his eye during class when he spots you subconsciously pushing at them. David’s regret is only a guise.

He takes a step forward and kisses you deeply, hands on your waist and tugging your body closer to his. You feel both of his palms slide down to the width of your hips and down to your ass, gripping tightly.

“God damn it,” David gripes as you run your hands down his front, stopping to fiddle with the flap of his belt, “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“So are you. We don’t have time,” you say in a whisper, fingers still on his belt. His semi-hard dick nudges your thigh slightly, and you take it upon yourself to begin unbuckling him.

“Stop it, sweetheart,” David’s hand leaves you to push away your touches, “I want you to do something for me.”

You tilt your head, placing your hands on his chest and gazing at him in a way which urges him to continue, “Go sign yourself out, drive to my place, go in, and wait for me until I get home.”

“It’s twelve, I’ll be waiting for-”

“Do it,” he says again, pressing kisses down the column of your throat, “I’ll give you the key. I need to fuck the life out of you, not this piddly shit. I’m tired of it.”

You look at him doubtfully before agreeing, watching him pull his keys from the front pocket of his jeans and remove his house key from the ring, placing it in the palm of your hand. David continues speaking, “No clothes when I walk in, please.”

“Dinner tonight?” you ask him, moving to straighten his tie, “After?”

David shakes his head and presses a kiss to your cheek, voice dropping, “I’m not your boyfriend.”

“You should be,” you reply quickly, eyes rolling, “It’s not like we’re fucking other people.”

He clears his throat and steps away, realizing he missed a button on his shirt and correcting his mistake, “Speak for yourself.”

“Excuse me?” you blink, instant attitude as your eyebrows scrunch together, “Then what the fuck, Dave?”

“It’s so easy to get a rise out of you,” he says easily, hands coming to your waist, faces close, “Yes, we can have dinner. You know that you can stay as long as you want to.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you gripe, hitting at his chest, “I was literally like, ‘Oh, so that’s why he doesn’t want to be a thing-’”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now,” David urges, shaking his head, “Later. You know the drill.”

He kisses you quickly before abandoning the room, momentarily leaving you to your own devices as he turns lights on in his classroom, hearing him piddle around aimlessly. David, without fail, forces you to toss the remaining condom - every time. This means you have to grossly carry it around with you and discreetly find a way to throw it out; usually in the metal disposal box of a bathroom stall on campus. Regardless, it’s disgusting, and he never understands why it’s a bone of contention.

“Honestly, Y/N,” David shrugs as you time your way out of his storage room, waiting a few minutes to exit after him, “Just throw it out of the window when you leave. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s gross!”

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes, going through papers on his desk, “Your paper sucks.”

David stuffs your paper into your hands, the number sixty-five scribbled and circled at the top of the page, “Do it over and do better. Actually, do it while you’re waiting for me. I want it done when I get there.”

“Are you kidding me?” you protest, annoyed with his presence, “Why are you being such a dick?”

He tuts and shrugs his shoulders, “I literally told you how to get an A and you didn’t listen to me. It’s up to you, now.”

“How am I fucking you and I still get this?” you drop your voice, “Is that really how this works?”

David steps towards you, hands stuffed into his pockets, “I don’t give a fuck how good you suck my cock. Bad work is bad work. Get over yourself. Fucking doesn’t give you an A.”

“I suggest,” he continues, “You leave, and work on that now. You have a lot to fix.”

You huff, sighing deeply as you stuff it into your bag, “I hate you so much.”

“The horrible price I pay as your teacher,” David quips sarcastically, leaning against his desk, “Cry me a river, sweetheart.”

“I swear, sometimes you do it on purpose,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “You give me shitty work just so I pay more attention to you.”

“Asshole,” you retort, “Maybe it’s just bad work.”

“Nah,” he tuts, fingers running through his hair, “You know what kind of shit I like to see from you. Teacher’s pet.”

David glances at his watch and then you, sighing deeply, “You should leave. The bell rings in . five, and I have copies to make. I’ll see you later. Text me if you need anything.”

“Fine,” you say, still annoyed with him, “Computer?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he shrugs at your question of using his personal computer, standing up straight from his position against his desk, looking around before pressing a kiss to your lips. You take the hint and bid him goodbye, clueless as to why you’re giving him the pleasure of knowing you’ll oblige him for whatever he asks of you.

Every single margin of your paper has arrows and his scribbled, sloppy handwriting, describing your mistakes in harsh detail; one of them specifically reads, “Am I really this bad of a teacher?” David’s notes all come across sarcastic and overly critical of your writing, explanations, and citations.

“If we ever get into an argument, it’s a guaranteed win for me. Your reasonings suck.”

“This is exactly what I told you to not,” he underlines five times, “do. So why did you do it???”

“I hate that I’m going to have to read this twice in my life. Do better.”

“Jesus! NO.”

Even his annotations piss you off, and you’re annoyed as you sit in front of his computer, rewriting it to his specific taste. You finish rewriting the paper after three hours and raiding his fridge for a few beers in the middle of the day, and he’s completely unsurprised to see the pile in the trash when he walks through the door.

“I should’ve known you’d steal my shit,” he gripes, not actually caring as he sets his things down, unbuttoning his collar and making his way over to you. You’re still in front of his computer, parked in his chair, and David presses a kiss to your forehead, leaning down to read what you’ve written.

He only skims through a couple of lines before nodding his head and standing up straight, “Already better. Print it, I’ll grade it later. Why are your clothes on?”

David tugs at the sleeve of your blouse as he takes a swig of your drink, watching as you stand and begin to pull off your clothes. He makes a common admission before you lean up to kiss him, “I’ve been thinking about this ever since you left. Thought about you snooping through my stuff and my dick got hard.”

“I didn’t snoop,” you reassure as he shamelessly drags your hips closer to his, “But maybe I should have? What’s there to find?”

“Guess you’ll find out sometime,” David shrugs, teasing as he attaches your mouths and places the Corona back down, hand on your ass as you tug at his tie. You blindly untie it, dropping it to the floor and focusing your fingers on the buttons. His free hand works on his belt, both of you breathing heavily into the kisses while he gently pushes you towards his bed.

It’s a familiar stumble as he sightlessly steps out of his shoes and shrugs off his dress shirt, a too formal garment for his profession, jeans pooling around his ankles. His fingers pull your underwear down your legs and unclasp your bra, lips leaving yours and quickly placing themselves on your skin. The saliva on your skin is visible, the light hitting it, as you lie on his bed and he kisses downwards, eyes fluttering closed as he settles between your legs.

The fact that you have been fucking your teacher for weeks now, no matter how much you do so, never becomes routine. Every time it happens, you’re just as shocked as the first time, and you relish in the noise he makes as he tastes you and holds your thighs apart, pressed against the side of the bed. David watches your face like a hawk as he goes down on you, mentally noting every indication of enjoyment you supply him with.

You whine his name and tug on his hair as he leaves a painful hickey on the sensitive skin in the uppermost of your inner thigh. He pulls away and glances down at his work, bringing up his fingers to rub over it and press into it, watching as you gasp in momentary pain.

He rolls his eyes, murmuring under his breath, “You’re the one who likes being all marked up.”

David digs through his bedside table for a condom before you pluck it from him and toss it, tugging him closer, “Come on. Please? I’m on-”

“The shot. Yeah, I fucking know,” he rolls his eyes again, “You try this shit almost every time.”

“Daviiiid,” you say, pushing slightly at the waistband of his briefs, “It sucks with one.”

“Fine, just this once, but I’m pulling out,” Dave gives in, “You’re my student. No babies.”

“No babies,” you repeat, nodding and kissing him again, palming him gently before tugging him out. He pushes the undergarment down his legs and settles between you again, taking his time and watching your face.

“Hit it from the back,” you suggest, attempting to move over.

“No,” David stops you, holding you down, “Here.”

You easily give in and you feel him push into you as one of his hands wraps around the circumference of your neck. The sight of your cheeks going a reddish pink, eyes rolling back and mouth dropping open, is enough jerk off material - should he ever need it - to last him for the rest of his life.

“Fuck yes,” he says at the sensation of being bare, head dropping as he groans slightly, “So much better.”

David watches your face become redder before he removes his touch, a white handprint visible from his pressure. He holds himself up above you as he closes his eyes, hips moving steadily. He gives into you, pulling out and rolling you over onto your stomach. You instinctively arch your back, one of his hands coming to your shoulder for leverage as he slowly slips himself inside, grunting deeply and twisting his face up as he bottoms out.

A higher pitched whine emerges from your throat, your moans mixing with his as he fucks into you. He roughly pulls your body by your shoulder to meet him in the middle, grip tight, and he doesn’t stop you when you begin shamelessly touching yourself. You feel David kiss sloppily down your spine, teeth grazing gently.

He wishes he could see your face when he stops his movements and reaches around to press against your lower abdomen, feeling you slacken and grip at his forearm, suddenly a million times noisier than before. Combined with your own caresses, you nearly instantly cum at the combination of sensations.

David follows you shortly afterwards, hastily remembering to pull out and jerk himself off, cum splattering across your lower back. He feels the sweat trickle down his back as he recovers, panting and breathing heavily as he blinks himself back to reality. He reaches for his shirt on the floor, carelessly wiping you clean and tossing it back onto the carpet. Dave doesn’t pay attention as he tugs his underwear back on and you climb under his covers, running his fingers through his hair.

“Shit,” he groans, getting in next to you, “I kinda pulled out...a little late.”

“Jesus, you suck,” you sigh, pressing your thighs together and scooting closer to him, head on his chest.

“No babies, though,” David says, holding his pinky up, “Right?”

“No babies,” you repeat, half-heartedly pinky promising with him, “Can you grade my paper?”

“I just came,” he reasons, shaking his head, “Give me a fucking sec.”

“I love my job,” David begins randomly, eyes closed again, “But God, I miss blunts.”

“You smoke?”

“Not anymore,” he says sternly, slapping at your arm slightly, “Don’t try to talk me into it. They test us.”

“I was just asking,” you roll your eyes at his accusatory tone, changing the subject, “You should be my boyfriend.”

David opens his eyes lazily, glancing down at you, “You’re horrible at pillow talk, you know that?”

“You deflect every time I bring it up,” you comment quietly, “Just say no already.”

He sighs and you feel the band of his watch land on your waist as he throws his hand over your torso, fingers rubbing delicately at the skin as he stares at the ceiling, “It’s not a no.”

“But it’s not a yes either,” you reply, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, “Which is a maybe, which is actually worse than a no.”

“You’re too cynical,” David shrugs and shakes his head, one hand smoothing over your hair, “It’s not that deep, sweetheart. I’m still your teacher. I know that you know why I have reservations, and you know what it would mean if we did. I’m not sure I want that for you.”

“For me?” you reply, turning to look at him, almost offended, “What would be at stake?”

“Not dating your teacher?” he responds, tone becoming ruder, “If this became anything more, I’d feel like I’m taking something away from you. You still have a few months left before you’re done. You shouldn’t be thinking about me.”

You scoff ignorantly, unmoving, “So, you wouldn’t even try it?”

“Sure, I’d try it,” David rushes out, “But, honey…”

He sighs again stressedly, swallowing, “You’re not listening to me. It’s not about you; this would be short-lived at its best and you know it. It’s not like I’m going to be leaving here, and you are.”

You both go quiet in each other’s embrace and David makes a soft groan before getting up, walking over and grabbing your paper from his printer. You watch him from his bed as he tears the cap off of his red pen with his teeth and leans against his desk in his underwear, spitting the cap out and reading your essay quietly. His eyebrows remain scrunched together as he grades it, scribbling and writing sporadically, the noise of the pen against the paper noisy in the silence.

You watch him chew on his lips as he flips through the pages and rereads paragraphs, quickly scratching a grade at the top of your first page. David tosses your work on the bed before speaking, “Better. See what happens when you listen to me? I’m showering, if you’re coming.”

It’s a one hundred, accompanied by a messy, scribbled heart.

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themockingcrows · 4 years

Text

Dream Eater

This fic is rated M! John/Dirk, John/Hal, Dirk<3<Hal AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464264 cw: nuditty, kidnapping, fae and faeries, spirits, vomiting, soul theft, dreams and nightmares, mentions of dream sex, Hal is a trashbag.

When John starts having dreams about his boyfriend, he assumes nothing is out of the ordinary. When the dreams turn to nightmares, he's concerned. When dreams become reality and he's faced with a creature hellbent on keeping him in his world, will he be able to find a way home again?

It was summer when the dreams first started, but autumn when they really came to a head for John. Near nightly he’d see his boyfriend in his sleep, and while he assumed it was just fondness that drove the visitations, or the fact they were together so often to begin with during the daytime hours now that it had been four years together, it was seeming more and more like something else was going on inside his mind.

The Dirk in his dreams was oddly affectionate, showering him in kisses and touches that usually only came after a prolonged period of relaxing in one another’s presence. The Dirk in his dreams was also ethereally attractive, almost as if a halo were burnishing his pale hair, obscuring parts of his face and eyes with the reflective light. Butterflies tended to dance around, sunset colors on their wings, some with bright electric blue eye spots. Whenever John was with this Dirk in his dreams, everything felt better. The kisses, the attention, even the sexual escapades felt realer than real, leaving him aching in the morning for more when he woke. More than once he’d had to feverishly jack off just to be able to clear his head and function the following day.

Dirk in reality didn’t seem to want to pay the dreams any heed. He found them amusing, or at least said he did, but didn’t want to discuss them further than the bare minimum. It was kind of frustrating, really. It made John not feel heard, but what could he really do? Dirk wasn’t into dream stuff, and that was that. On the recommendation of his friends he wound up searching for dream meanings, and found that the sex, mind blowing as it was, was just a sign that he could have that kind of passion in real life. The butterflies had a meaning too, more positive, dealing with longevity and romance, spirituality and joy, creativity. Great sex, long life, romance and joy sounded like a pretty good omen.

Now if he could just get Dirk to actually listen to him about them, maybe they’d be able to tap into the elements he’d been experiencing and they could recreate them.

Tonight was another dream, the butterflies leading a nude John from a circle of mushrooms where he’d ‘awoken’ to what looked like a grand table set with food and elaborate tea sets, some scene from Alice in Wonderland he was sure. All that was missing was a rabbit and a mouse, for the mad hatter’s position seemed to be filled by a similarly nude Dirk, who sat pouring two cups of tea for them to partake of. The liquid was a rich reddish color, matching the decadent desserts and fruits and jams that speckled the table. Dirk smiled as he approached, and beckoned for him to take a seat. The chairs all looked overstuffed and plumply comfortable, but John settled into one nearest Dirk’s right hand and accepted his cup, drinking some of the liquid.

Even in a dream it tasted like what he assumed ambrosia tasted like, sweet and fulfilling to his very core, warm down his throat and settling in his stomach like a syrup. He was quick to drink a bit more as Dirk spoke to him.

“Do you love me?”

“Well. Yeah, of course I do,” he said with a soft laugh.

Dream logic, he supposed. Calling into question any doubts he might have. At least there weren’t any, at this point.

Dirk smiled softly before taking one of the cakes on the table and slathering it with a bit of jam, then took a careful bite.

“Would you tell me anything?”

“I try already but you’re kind of a dick sometimes,” John said with a smirk, looking over the spread again from where he sat before he reached for a raspberry and ate it, surprised by the perfect balance of sweet and tart. It’s like these things were made just for him, ripened and blended just right.

“Would you give me anything, if I needed it?” Dirk asked with the same smile.

“Uh, yeah. ...Wait, do you need something?” John asked, suddenly a bit concerned. In his dream hunting he’d learned that sometimes dreams were portents of the future or deep insight. Maybe Dirk was needing something that he didn’t want to ask for? It wouldn’t be the first time John had had to drag something out of his boyfriend.

“I do,” Dirk said, looking sad suddenly. “I need all of you...”

“Dirk you’ve uh... You’ve kinda had all of me before,” John laughed slightly, brows coming together as his face reddened. “Multiple times? Even in dreams? What more is there to give?”

“A lot,” Dirk said, finishing his treat before standing up. The table seemed to sink into the ground in front of him, all the treats disappearing beneath the grass as butterflies flocked in ever increasing numbers. When nothing was in his path, Dirk came and leaned on the arms of John’s chair, getting right in his face. This close, John could finally see Dirk’s eyes, a piercing red that reminded him of Dave’s in a way. This might be a dream, but somehow the wrong eyes and the suddenly threatening, shark like grin that his boyfriend was giving him made John cower in his seat. He was far too exposed to be feeling scared, the warm sensations of the tea party giving way to the ice cold of a nightmare.

“U-uhm...”

“Your heart. Your body. Your soul ,” Dirk rasped, his voice too low. His red eyes looked crazed, his teeth too sharp, and his laughter that came sounded like breaking glass to John’s ears.

He woke in a cold sweat, tangled in his sheets, huffing for breath, eyes wide in terror. The alarm was going off on his bedside table, leaving him to wonder if he would have woken up at all when things went sour, or if things would have gotten worse. John rubbed his damp face and yanked his sweat soaked blankets off of him to get up and change clothes, dressing for the day as much as he needed to before grabbing for his phone.

He had to tell Dirk about this one. He absolutely had to.

The phone rang before he finally heard the familiar voice on the other end, tired, as if-

“Did you not sleep again?”

“Did you call me just to antagonize me about my sleep schedule?”

“No, I- Look, I had a dream. Another one.”

“Here we go.”

“Listen! You were in it again! And you were wrong!”

“... I was in your dream and I was incorrect about something? Wow, what a nightmare,” Dirk said sarcastically. John smacked his forehead and groaned in annoyance.

“No, no, I mean you were wrong. Like something was wrong with you. Your eyes were the wrong color and you were talking about my soul and laughing like a maniac.”

“John, you had a nightmare,” Dirk rationalized. “I’m sorry you had a rough night’s sleep, but they happen.”

“I was looking up dream stuff the other day an-”

“And that’s probably why you had a fucking nightmare, do you know how hokey all that dream analysis stuff is?”

“I don’t know, man, some of it was pretty interesting. It explained a lot of things I’ve been thinking about, an-”

“You’re just as likely to get reliable information from horoscopes,” Dirk sighed. “Look. I’m not wanting to piss on your parade, but really John. I was just a nightmare. The dreams are just dreams. We’re near each other all the time, your brain just remembers the things we do and say and parks them in new orders and mishmashes them with everything else you’ve ever seen and done and thought till it’s like new.”

“I know how dreams work!”

“Then you know how nightmares work, too.”

“UGH forget it, forget it... Why’d I even bother, you never want to talk about dreams.”

“If it’s aspirations I’ll talk till your ears fall off and your voice goes creaky, John. But dreams are just made up things your brain creates to keep you pacified at night. They’re hallucinations. Try not to get too hung up on’em, okay? You keep having the same types of dreams because you’re so focused on figuring them out, of course the themes will be similar.”

“But the nightmare…”

“Was a nightmare.”

John was quiet for a moment before he grimaced.

“It really scared me, Dirk. Like, honest to God scared me.”

“...Okay, look, that was probably a dick move on my part.” Dirk sighed quietly, considering his words more carefully. “Do you want me to come over?”

“You haven’t slept yet, have you.”

“No, if you must know, I was busy.”

“Take a nap and then you can come over,” John reasoned. “I don’t want you half dead, I want you to be comfortable to lay on.”

“If you just want to lay on me, wouldn’t a nap be the perfect thing to do at your house?”

“No, I’ve uh. I’ve gotta change the sheets.”

“...John, you didn’t-”

“I DIDN’T PISS THE BED, GOD, I just sweat a lot from the nightmare!” John cried, leaning down with one hand to yank the bottom sheet off the mattress in one hard tug. It came free and dragged the entire contents of the bed down to the floor with it on his feet, leaving John grumbling in annoyance.

“Okay, okay, I was kidding. I know you would never admit to it even if you did.”

“DIRK.”

John could almost hear the smirk in his voice. “I’ll call you after I’ve slept, then. Catch you later, John.”

Annoyed, John hung up when Dirk did and dropped his phone on his desk before turning and crouching down to gather the sheets and pillowcases up off the floor. What a mess, he didn’t feel like doing laundry, but apparently that’s what he was going to do first thing in the morning. The bedding joined the other laundry in his hamper and he headed downstairs with it, wandering the short trip to the utility room before freezing, hand ready to reach into the darkness to flick the light switch on. For a split second he swore he saw eyes in the darkness, red eyes and sharp teeth that made his heart clench in panic, before he shoved his hand in and turned the light on. Illuminated, there was no obvious threat in the room aside from an early morning chill for his bare feet.

He did his laundry. He ate breakfast. He spent the afternoon laying on Dirk playing videogames together and shooting the shit to make up for Dirk’s attitude earlier in the day and because they had planned to do so anyway. The nightmare was all but forgotten as the days turned to weeks and new dreams filled the void left from the nightmare, proving Dirk’s theory correct about the dreams increasing frequency because he was focusing on it. Sometimes he still saw red eyes in the dark, or right as he was about to wake up, but it was easier to forget them.

...At least till the night the dream returned, larger than life.

John could feel his head sagging, his body going all but limp on the soft mattress, but knew he was still awake. He could feel his surroundings, the strange half sleep of a nightmare where he could just picture his sleep paralysis demon forming at the foot of his bed to loom over him, a shriveled hag there to suck the breath from his lungs. Yet, the hag never came. Instead, Dirk came, surrounded by ethereal butterflies.

“Time to get up, John Egbert. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us,” he said softly.

How had he gotten in here? Dirk didn’t have a key to the house, and it was so late he didn’t think his father would have let him inside. He’d never heard a knock, though he’d also been kind of concerned about the paralysis and potential demon coming to eat his face before he could fully wake up.

“Up, up, up, we’re going to be late,” Dirk cooed.

As if he were a puppet on a string, John pushed back his blankets and stood up, glassy eyed and silent, trapped inside his body like a sleepwalker who was aware of where his body was going. Dirk watched him silently as he pulled on his glasses and a hoodie, one of the ones Dirk himself had left during one of his many visits that John had started living in because it was comfortable. He didn’t recall giving his body the order to put on clothes on top of his pajamas. Was he going to put on shoes, too? Where were they going?

To the window, apparently. That’s how he’d gotten in. John could have sworn he’d locked it, but he’d also be lying if he said it was the first time Dirk had ever snuck into his room late at night. Dirk exited first, and extended a pale, ungloved hand John’s direction to urge him to follow. John came right along, though on the inside he was getting more and more frantic. He wasn’t in control of his body, could Dirk tell that? He didn’t want to go outside, the roof was slick from rain recently, and it’d be cold. He didn’t want to go outside barefoot at all, but the roof would just be dangerous.

He tried to pull the plug on his waking nightmare.

He failed.

He took Dirk’s hand and followed him steadily out to the roof, perfectly balanced despite his fear, the night sky overhead cloudy and speckled with stars whenever the rain laden puffs would move out of the way enough. A crescent moon illuminated the grass below shimmering like diamonds with dew, far enough below that John would definitely break his neck if he slipped.

Dirk jumped backwards and landed with catlike grace on the ground below, barely bending his knees… and opened his arms upwards with a grin that showed too many teeth beneath the sharp bottom edges of his dark shades. He reminded John of a shark, unappealing and dangerous, even more dangerous because apparently he knew how to make John’s body listen to him. Following an unheard command once more, John approached the edge of the rooftop, bare toes peeking over the edge of the slick eaves to the gutter that definitely couldn’t hold his weight.

He extended a leg, and screamed inwardly, panicked, not wanting to land in the hospital.

John fell, weightless and full of panic, only for Dirk to catch him as if he weighed nothing, setting him down on his feet on the wet grass once again. He lifted a hand and gestured as if he were calling a pet to heel, and John continued his sleepwalkers shamble after him, first through the grass of his yard and then onto the cold asphalt of the road.

John lost track of how long they walked, toes long numb from the cold and the repeated contact with dirt and stones and sticks, mind in a frazzle over what to do as he followed his pied piper boyfriend into the woods. The chilled scent of pine needles and wet, spongy earth flooded John’s senses, normally so soothing, but now terrifying. What was happening? What was going to happen? Why the fuck was he being taken out to the middle of nowhere like this by his boyfriend?

Had he snapped?

Was this some weird surprise? Some… some experiment he was keeping secret?

Was he in danger? He’d caught him after jumping off the rooftop, but this was crossing some serious boundaries that John couldn’t quite put together in order right now due to how scared he really was.

They continued walking until Dirk suddenly stopped and turned around, opening his arms once more with the same shark like grin that had chilled John to his core earlier, the least Dirk-like thing that he’d seen in his life. Dirk never smiled like that. Dirk’s smiles were subtle, fleeting flashes and soft shying away before finally warmly rolling out beyond his control.

This smile was threatening, all danger.

“Come here, John… That’s right,” he said as John took more sleepwalker steps forwards into what looked like a circle of mushrooms. Once in range, Dirk grasped him into a tight hug and crooned, grasping his chin with his hand to make him lift it, planting a kiss onto his lips. “Perfect, sweet John Egbert... and now you’re mine…”

The lips were cold as ice, sending a chill down his spine even as the night sky seemed to sickly shift its cast from a deep blue and starlight to something more akin to dawn in the blink of a swirling eye. Where were they? This wasn’t the same forest they’d been in minutes before that John could tell, this was… this was different. Different, but he could recognize it from his dreams. The mushroom circle, the pathway the butterflies had led him along before, and in the distance a table sat empty of tea and pastries.

As if on cue, the butterflies appeared, some massive and bigger than his head, others small as his fingertip, all the colors of the rainbow. Things seemed too vivid suddenly, too bright, and nausea ate at him. John’s eyes rolled back into his head as his knees went slack, losing the vision of the world and the strange Dirk to darkness.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When John woke, it was to a butterfly perched on his nose, its delicate feet tickling his skin and its large eyespots visible as it fluttered its wings slowly in front of his eyes. He reached a hand up to swat it away before he looked around in alarm, trying to figure out where he was. This was definitely a space he’d never seen before, not even in his dreams. He had been resting on a massive cushion the size of a small bed on the floor, legs curled up to make himself as small as possible in his sleep. His hoodie was gone, as were his clothes he’d been sleeping in, replaced with what at first looked like a sheet of its own. On closer inspection though, it seemed to be a sheet of some kind of fine fabric with butterfly patterns of varying sizes on it, blue silk with white and silver details, pearls emblazoning some of the more detailed portions, the style loose and held with clasps and pins. It was honestly the prettiest thing John had ever seen, let alone the softest on his skin, but it didn’t change how strange it was that it was suddenly on his body. Where the fuck were his clothes?

“Ah, you’re awake. Excellent. I know the transfer between worlds can be kind of a lot even for beings like myself, I suppose a human constitution just isn’t up for it.”

The voice was familiar, causing John to jerk his head around towards the source, but he only frowned upon seeing it. There Dirk was, though not his Dirk, dressed in a similarly styled silk garment, though in red with black and gold accents, butterflies big and small with the same small pearls. Around his neck rested a silver cage necklace, with a small electric blue marble resting inside. The not-Dirk Dirk approached with what looked like a breakfast tray laden with sweet berries and tea, pastries and crockery identical to that of his dream. His throat ached just from the memory of how sweet it would be, how perfectly ripe the berries, before he felt a cold chill as another memory came to the forefront. Dirk seemed to recognize his fear, because he smiled at the same time.

“I mean you no harm, I promise. After all, I have all the time in the world to get to know you now,” he said, setting the tray down near John’s cushion before going to take a seat on another cushion near a table. “Please, eat. It should settle your stomach somewhat.”

“I’m not hungry, I want to know what the fuck happened!” John insisted, ignoring the tray. “Who are you?”

“My name is Hal,” said the not-Dirk. When John continued to look confused, he only smiled again. “I take it my form isn’t pleasing to you?”

“It’s too similar to someone I care about a lot.”

“Ah, that’s his problem, not mine. I’ve had this form for a lot longer than he’s had his. The resemblance is uncanny though, I admit. His family is likely displeased. Or they would be, if they were still keeping tabs on me.”

“Tabs? What about his family?” John asked, shifting his weight and the fabric to face this person more head on, not trusting him to be out of sight for a spare second.

“His family has known about me for generations, though the newer groups don’t know all the details,” he chuckled.

“...What are you.”

“Ah, that’s difficult to answer,” Hal said. “I don’t think your kind has a word for precisely what I am. For now, let’s just say I’m a spirit of sorts.”

“A spirit? Am- Wait, am I dead? Did I die when we went off the roof?” John asked, panicked suddenly. His dad would find his body and- “Fuck, how do I go home?”

“You don’t. You’re not dead, you just live here now,” Hal said simply. “I’ve brought you to my home to enjoy you for the foreseeable future.”

John gaped at him. “Wh-?”

“Humans are such fragile creatures, John. Wouldn’t you say so?” he asked. “Small things can cause their ends so quickly. Accidents, illnesses, acts of God, each other. Wouldn’t it be nice not to have to worry about that? To be able to live forever by my side?”

“I don’t even fucking know you,” John said bluntly, reaching up to adjust the fabric on his shoulder so it fell differently, feeling more and more exposed in the line of those eerily red eyes. The more he looked, the less like Dirk this person appeared in some key ways. His hair wasn’t blonde so much as almost silvery platinum, and his skin was pale as porcelain instead of sun kissed. He looked like some kind of doll, too smooth, too perfect. Too inhuman.

“Ah, formalities,” Hal said with a shake of his head, looking cockily amused that John was paying so much attention to him. “We have the world at our fingertips and you’re concerned about not knowing me immediately. I doubt you knew Dirk when you first met him, yet you came to love him, to be his beloved did you not?”

“I need to go home,” John said, rising unsteadily to his feet on the cushion. The swaths of fabric hung down to his feet almost like a dress, elegant and fitting around the right portions of his body.

“You are home, John. My home is your home now,” Hal said. “You’ll come to love it in time.”

“Where’s that fucking mushroom circle, I’m going home ,” John insisted, looking at Hal once more before glancing to the doorway and back, as if afraid he’d get attacked. Instead of looking upset, Hal gestured towards the door.

“The circle is outside in the woods near the courtyard. Shouldn’t be too hard to find. By all means, go enjoy it, it’s lovely this time of the day.”

John paled somewhat and felt his stomach flip as he backed up a few paces, then grabbed the silk cloth around his legs and lifted it in front of his feet so he could run, dashing out of the room and down a set of stairs. He was panicked, blind and deaf save for the sound of his heart hammering in his ears, a deer caught in the sight of a predator as he fled, turning left and right into different rooms and hallways of the maze-like complex. It took a while, but John made it out of the sumptuously decorated building and outside into the courtyard, manicured grass and flowers so stunning that his steps actually slowed to look at them, mesmerized. Butterflies lazily danced through the air around him, flitting from one flower to the next, lighting on an outdoor set of chairs and topiaries before taking flight again. He swatted the air in front of his face before picking up the silk and running towards a gap in the trees soon as he spotted it, following the path till he came across something familiar.

The table sat prepared for tea, same as in his dreams, packed with the same treats and drinks as before, the same that Hal had brought him. Again his stomach sang for something to eat, his parched throat for something to drink, but he needed to reach the mushrooms first. Needed to look and see for himself, needed to understand how to get home.

The circle was simple, large white mushrooms decorating a perfect circle, their tops looking almost glassy and opalescent to match with what looked like mermaid tear stones and polished glass in the grass around it. The area shimmered and shone in the light, and he could understand now why he’d gotten so overwhelmed when he first stood in it. Even standing there now with nothing happening to him it was too bright, too vivid in color, too hyper-realistic. 4D in the 3D realm.

Notably, though, he wasn’t going home. The mushrooms were mushrooms, there was no button to push, no magic circle lighting up at his presence. He tried saying “HOME” loudly and clearly as if the command would do something. He recited his address. He said his name. He begged. He pleaded.

He kicked a mushroom so hard it went flying and smashed against the trunk of a tree, and stomped to sit at the tea table. Agitated, he poured a cup of the hot liquid and drank it straight, not even caring that it somewhat burnt his throat, that it needed a bit of sugar. John rubbed his chest when it felt not only warm but uncomfortably hot for a moment, muttering to himself in annoyance. Of course he’d burn himself, it was just his fucking luck, but at least the discomfort was quickly over. He helped himself to a few raspberries and was angry at how perfect they were, how sweet, exactly ripe enough on his tongue.

The magic and mystery of these surroundings in his dreams had been interesting before when he thought he was talking with a dream Dirk, imaginary places with his lover of a world that didn’t quite make enough sense, somewhere that they could just be themselves and indulge in their fantasies. Somewhere that, till fairly recently, had felt like a welcoming space.

Groaning miserably, John sank his head into his palms and leaned on the tabletop, wracking his brain to try thinking of a way home.

“Ah, realized it doesn’t work yet?” came Hal’s voice from nearby. John lifted his head with a frown as the… whatever he was came closer, hand near the small cage necklace with its glowing blue stone, putting pressure over whatever heart he had.

“Yeah, thanks for letting me find out on my own,” he muttered. “...Why is this place so creepy?” asked John. “Where’s everyone else? The animals, even? All I’ve seen here is butterflies and you!”

“Oh, you’ll start to see them around soon enough. I thought for the first while it would be better for us to get to know each other better without much outside interference. For you to adjust to your new home.”

“This isn’t my home,” John growled aggressively, hand planting on the tabletop so he could stand more upright. “I’ll figure out how to make you understand that. I’m going home, this isn’t my home, I’m a human and you’re a… whatever you are. That thing in your head isn’t what’s happening.”

Hal gestured to the necklace he wore with a sharp smile.

“Oh. But it is, John. It is…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dirk’s phone rang early in the morning, early enough that even his meager sleep wasn’t enough to make him less groggy on the phone. He slapped at his phone a few times before rubbing his eyes and pulling it to his face. ...Hm. Okay, nine AM wasn’t that early, all things considered. But it was still pretty early for him. The number that was calling him was familiar, but rarely used.

“John? Dude, why not just call me from your phone, I’ve got a ringtone set up any everything,” he yawned.

“Dirk?”

“Oh. Sorry, Sir, I thought you were John.”

“No, no, there’s no need to be sorry,” James promised. He was quiet for a moment before speaking. “By any chance is John there with you?”

“No, he hasn’t come around today yet. Why?”

“I went to get him for breakfast and he was gone. Bed unmade, window open, windowsill damp. I’ve been up a few hours and never saw him leave anywhere, and there’s no way he’d be foolish enough to go out the window. I was wondering if he’d left late last night for some reason.”

Dirk sat up a little straighter. “No, but I’ll keep an eye out for him and call you if he turns up, okay?”

“Please, do. I’ve called his phone and it was left in his room, it’s very not like him... Dirk, he didn’t even take his shoes, they’re still on the floor.”

Dirk frowned, brows furrowing in concern. That definitely wasn’t like John. He wasn’t a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, nor was he the type to worry his dad if he could help it. He racked his brain trying to think of different places John might have gone, apparently phoneless and barefoot. “Is his wallet there?”

“Yes, it’s on his desk too. I can’t imagine where he’s disappeared to, it’s like he just vanished,” James said, voice sounding more concerned.

“Maybe he went for a walk, or sleepwalked or something,” Dirk said. “Look. Call the police and see what they say, maybe he’s at a hospital or something.”

“The hospital, oh, God, I didn’t even think-”

“Hey, it’s just a possibility, right?” Dirk said, wetting his lips. “I’ll go canvas the area near my place while you make your calls. Keep me posted?”

“Of course. Could you call some of his other friends for me while I’m talking to the police? I don’t know if I have all of their information on hand, I’m a bit frazzled.”

“Sure. You got it, Sir.”

James hanging up to get on to his calls left Dirk holding his phone, staring at it, stunned. Where would John have gone that early, barefoot and without his phone or wallet? Why would he leave his window open in this weather? None of this was making sense, and it was just making Dirk more and more anxious. He crawled out of his nest of blankets and pillows to stuff himself into a pair of jeans, already starting to call down the list of people they both knew.

An hour later and there were more questions than answers. A followup with James promised a bit of hope as police took the case as a suspicious disappearance, given the wallet and phone and shoes being left behind. Yet, even that didn’t help quell Dirk’ upset stomach. Nobody knew anything. Nobody had heard from John since he’d been online the night before, and even then it had been brief. He’d been tired apparently, wanting to go to bed at a decent-ish time for John. There’d been no suspicious activities, no strange questions or out of character discussions.

John was regular, normal, everyday John, and it had just been another night as far as anyone was concerned.

Dirk spent the day checking his neighborhood, different haunts they had. Different places they’d gone on dates, or to hang out outdoors. He even went to the woods to check around where they’d found salamanders before, to no luck. By evening, with still no leads, he made his way home and started searching online.

On so little sleep, it was limited in what he’d be able to do beyond what he’d already done, the information he’d already given the police being more than they’d expected from a single person. He yawned as he typed, debating coffee to get a few more hours of awake time with a clear head, but soon decided against it. What use would he be strung out on caffeine and exhausted? What more could he do tonight? Very little.

Regretfully, almost against his will, Dirk made himself sleep that night by sheer force of will. He took his shades off and flung himself back into his bed, tossing and turning for hours till, at last, sleep took him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

John stared uneasily at Hal’s necklace, sensing something… off from it. Menacing in the way it glowed. But. Had it been glowing earlier? He couldn’t recall, but some part of him was sure that if he saw a glowing thing in a little silver cage he’d remember it. It felt threatening, but John wasn’t certain how much was coming from Hal himself and how much was coming from that soft blue glow at his neck.

“Look familiar?” Hal asked, rattling the cage gently. Something in John’s chest stirred and he swallowed hard. “Or are you going to be left in the dark, little hummingbird of mine?”

Hummingbird? John opened his mouth to complain, to question the nickname suddenly bestowed on him, when Hal clasped the cage in his fist and squeezed. The strange feeling in his chest amplified, and with it, nausea. Panic. He put his hands on his throat and wheezed, suddenly terrified. Asthma attack? He hadn’t had one of those since he was a kid! Why now? Why couldn’t he seem to get enough air in every pull?

“Humans are really so fragile,” Hal said, either ignoring or ignorant of John’s predicament entirely. “So simple, as well… Then again, that’s what happens when knowledge of the beyond isn’t taught like it used to be. Simple things. Don’t go in mushroom circles. Don’t name the darkness. Don’t give your true name to some creatures… don’t eat the food,” he hummed, lifting a brow as John began to cough and wheeze harder. He released his fist, and just as quickly as it had begun, John’s discomfort ended.

John gulped fresh air in heavy gasps, not wanting to be without it anymore in case anything else happened to come up and disrupt his airways.

Wait.

Don’t eat the food?

“You’d think that Dirk would at least have had the interests in protecting his own lover from creatures like myself, but no, even he’s negligent,” Hal said, gently rattling the glowing marble in its cage. John felt like his heart was shuddering, and suddenly he realized he couldn’t look away from the light within that silvery cage.

“...What are you doing to me,” John asked, voice shaking. “I know it’s you causing this, what are you doing to me!”

“Doing? Doing. What am I doing,” he asked, curling his fingers gently around the cage again. Instead of squeezing though, he stroked gently at the cage. “I’m playing with my new favorite trinket, John. I think you’ve had it just about long enough, it’s my turn to play with it for the next while. You’ve no need for it here in the world beyond the mortal plane anyway,” he sniffed.

John wet his lips. “What’s your new trinket, Hal.”

“Something that belongs to me, now that you’ve bonded with this world,” he said with a grin. “I thought I’d have to trick you into eating my food here, but no, you did it all on your own.”

John’s stomach plummeted. “Is. ...Is that my-”

“Soul? Oh yes. Funny how small it is, isn’t it? When you condense a soul it becomes perfectly portable like this,” he chuckled. “I’ve collected others over the years, of course, but yours is the prettiest color yet once it finished transferring over... I was worried it would change colors once you gave it up, but no. It’s the same enchanting blue as your eyes.”

Without thinking, John lunged forwards to try snatching the necklace from Hal, scrabbling to catch it till his wrists were caught and squeezed so hard he could feel the bones creaking from the compression. His fingertips went numb, and his joints screamed for release till even he was crying out and trying to retract his hands.

“Let go!”

Hal got close to his face, turned his head and went to his neck instead to take a deep inhaled sniff of his scent before laying a chilly kiss on the skin. “You’ll come to love me soon, hummingbird. Just accept your new little cage, and we can live in peace and harmony… The sooner you give up your humanity, the sooner I can give you the world itself. An entire kingdom at your feet, a new home, a new form. You could shed your human skin and become what your truly are capable of becoming. Isn’t that amazing?”

“G-get off of me,” John insisted, continuing to struggle despite the chill of fear down his back. Hal was too close to his throat, too close to too many vital points for him to relax in the slightest. “Give me that back and get off of me! I want to go home!”

Hal let go of John suddenly, shoving him backwards hard enough he collided with his chair and toppled over backwards onto the ground, silks flying awkwardly to expose him till he scrambled to cover up again and right himself upright. There were marks on his wrists, and for all the world it felt like irons rested on his skin, weighing him down. Never in his life had he felt more trapped than now. When Hal stood, it looked as if the sky darkened, but John realized it was just the butterflies coming to roost around their master’s form in a storm from all sides, thick enough to nearly blot out the sun.

“I’ll give you some time to yourself, John. Give you some more time to come to terms with what’s happening. Let you appreciate the gravity of the situation… When you’ve come to your senses, if you wish for me sooner than I return, call for me and I’ll be there.”

“I’ll never call for you, stay gone forever for all I care!” John yelled, fury boiling in his chest. He rose to his knees and picked up a glass of tea, throwing it where Hal had stood. The most he did was catch some of the butterflies, several falling to the ground with damp wings, unable to join the swirling wall that whisked away their master.

“John… Hummingbird… You’ll learn… You’ll learn just how much you should appreciate me, how much you should enjoy your new role as my bride. I’ll give you time. Even humans learn things with enough time…”

“SCREW YOU AND SCREW YOUR TIME!!”

But Hal was already gone, and now John was stuck, out of breath and enraged, at a fantasy filled tea table that had, if he understood correctly, sealed his fate. Gritting his teeth he jumped at the table, flinging things this way and that, breaking dishes and spilling liquids on the ground, throwing treats into the forest. Eventually, he summoned the same strength his father possessed and upended the tea table entirely, flipping it onto its side with the remaining settings and food. The effort left him drained physically as he was emotionally, but fuck it had felt good at the time.

He explored for a bit after this, back to the building he’d run from earlier, poking around. Hal could apparently come and go as he pleased, but he’d be away for a while. Maybe there was some clue to getting home hidden inside the walls.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dirk’s eyes opened, but he wasn’t certain if he was awake or not. He couldn’t tell where things were in relation to each other, be it items in his room or the open space of some vast new world in the darkness. Form held no meaning. He could feel his stomach roil from the weightless feeling, dizzy, unsteady as if his inner ear were malfunctioning. He reached a hand out to grab his sheets, but found nothing. Instead, he reached behind himself to grasp at the headboard, knowing something solid would help with the dizzy feeling by orienting him upright. If that failed, he’d just need to roll to the floor and hug it for a second to stop feeling the sick sensation in the back of his head.

Something moved in the corner of his vision, catching Dirk’s attention instantly. A butterfly, small and blue, fluttered around in wobbly circles. It seemed to be made of energy instead of something solid, no sign of its legs or antennae, the fluttering mechanical and fake the closer he looked at it. He tried to walk towards it, but his feet wouldn’t connect with the floor, so instead, assuming it was a dream, he made swimming motions till he propelled forwards. Up close the butterfly flickered and flashed before turning to tongues of blue flame, flapping for all they were worth.

The flame, suddenly, was caught up in a cage and pulled backwards from Dirk’s face. The cage was massive, but shrank and shrank until there was hardly anything left of it to be seen aside from the unmistakable silvery shape.

A flame in a cage. Heh. Sounds like something John would come up with in one of his dreams. Dirk wondered what meaning such a dream could have, then remembered that John was actually missing, chest giving an uncomfortable ache in response.

“Dirk!”

“...John?”

Dirk perked up immediately, looking around in the darkness for any sign of new visible objects, but failed to see anything further than the strange silver cage and the blue flame.

“Dirk!” came John’s voice once more, sounding more desperate. “Please, I want to go home. I just want to go home!”

“John! John, where are you?!”

It was pointless to scream, if this was a dream. ...But maybe, just maybe, there was something to dreams after all. What if John was right? What if this was the once in a lifetime chance where a dream really was prophetic? What if John was hurt somewhere, scared and alone, and this was a clue? It made no logical sense, it was so illogical it made Dirk’s head pound, but he shouted all the same.

Any chance was better than no chance.

“I’m scared! I’m scared, what are you?!”

Dirk stopped breathing. ‘What are you?’ Was that what he’d said? Not where are you but what are you. He was scared. He was scared of something, of something an-

“Dirk, help!” shouted a voice overlapped with Johns, which once more gave Dirk pause. It was… his own voice?

“John? I-. ...John, what’s going on?”

“Heeeeelp~” said Dirk’s doppelganger voice in the darkness, before it broke down into a laugh like breaking glass. A face appeared above the silvery cage, then shoulders, a full body, pale and terrifying wrapped in red silks, face accented with red marks on the outside edges of piercingly cold eyes. The figure was smoking from a long pipe, trails of rich red smoke swirling around its body and up into the air. On its back were butterfly wings, massive and decorated with large, striking eye spots that seemed to shimmer when they flapped slowly.

“Who in the fuck- ” started Dirk, before he was interrupted once more.

“Really, Dirk, you finally see me for yourself and that’s all you can say…? Your family’s more pathetic than I thought, if their youngest doesn’t know what I look like,” he said. “My handsome face should haunt all of your dreams from the first to the last so I can eat all your delicious nightmares like candy. And all you can say is ‘Who in the fuck are you’,” he added mockingly.

It took a moment for Dirk to catch on, but when he did his blood ran ice cold. Hal. This was Hal. This was the dream eater he’d been warned about, the spirit who could ensnare wayward sleepers, the soul drainer. The creature that looked unnervingly like the face he saw in the mirror every morning.

“Hal,” he breathed. Then, an instant later, “JOHN-”

“Is safe and sound with someone who’ll take good good care of him,” Hal said with a wicked grin, taking a leisurely step into the darkness as if he were walking on pitch black water instead of being stuck floating and swimming like Dirk was, a swimmer without surface tension to work against.

“Let him go, Hal.”

“Mmm… You make such a good argument, but...” Another drag on the pipe and Hal exhaled another puff of the thick red smoke, perfumed and enchanting. “No.”

Dirk tried to mimic him to take a step, but was stuck floundering and flailing in the darkness as Hal walked around him in slow, lazy circles. “Hal, I swear to fuck, let him go. Don’t you have business with my family? Why not target me? Why target John?”

“My hummingbird is inconsequential to the eventual extinction of your family line,” Hal said. “A lovely trinket all my own to savor and enjoy. Tell me, Dirk. Once a human stops being human, do you think they become less or more beautiful?”

Dirk tried to grasp Hal’s leg, but was disappointed when his hand went right through him. He may as well be talking to a mirage, this was his natural realm of dreams after all, the rules weren’t the same.

“I’ll tell you. They become something spectacular, something humans fear naturally, subdued creatures that you are. I can’t wait to pick him apart and put him back together again for eternity.” Hal smiled and crouched down in front of Dirk, grinning, showing too many teeth. “...Would you like to see that? Have sweet dreams of my hummingbird each night? I could show you everything I plan to do to him starting tonight, if you wish.”

“Don’t you fucking dare , don’t touch him, don’t do anything to him!” growled Dirk, swiping at Hal’s body again and again. “Come on, if you want a fight, I’ll bring a fight to you! That’s what you want, right? My family line, something about my family line, it-”

“Something!” crowed Hal. “Oh that’s rich , you’re wanting to play Prince Charming and rescue your beau but you don’t even know what it is your family means to me! You’ve a deathwish, Dirk, mind that pretty head of yours.”

“I don’t care if I have a deathwish, better me than John being your… Your plaything,” hissed Dirk, continuing to swat in vain at the mirage figure in front of him.

Hal reached out and grasped Dirk’s hair then, suddenly very solid and very much a threat.

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, boy, your goal is worthless. Pointless. John is mine, and will remain mine. He’s broken a golden rule, and not even you can fix that,” he said in a soft hiss. He took another drag from his pipe before suddenly turning it, shoving the heated end against the flesh of Dirk’s neck with a crisp sizzle sound.

Dirk screamed in pain… and sat bolt upright in bed, wild eyed and drenched in chilled sweat. His heart was hammering in his ears, and he could still feel the burning on his neck. He reached up to slap the site of the pain and winced, retracting his hand a half second after impact. A burn. A real, honest to God burn lay on his nape, melding the dream world and reality in ways that, on any other given day, Dirk would have assumed was an impossible way.

He’d heard the family stories, but they were just that, he assumed: stories. Fairytales. Folktales passed down through the family and altered through the generations, not this… this thing. Dirk had assumed Hal was his family’s boogeyman, meant to keep children afraid to step out of line.

The real thing was much, much more terrifying than some monster in the closet.

Dirk scrambled out of bed to get dressed in fresh clothes, trying to wrack his brain for whatever else he could remember his family telling him. Stories. Rhymes. Fairytales. Fuck, what else was real? Ghosts? Vampires? Fucking Bigfoot and Mothman? Maybe Little Red Riding Hood was gonna turn up and beat the shit out of a wolf or something the second he turned his back.

No, no, that was stupid. Focus.

Hal. What did he know about Hal. Dream eater. Dropping your guard could invite him. Things to avoid ran through his mind, the things drilled into his mind by his brother, ranging from giving up true names in the past, something about salt, or milk and bread, to not standing in mushroom circles and-

… Mushroom circles.

Mushroom circles were portals between worlds. There was no way John was taken through dreams alone, his body would have been left behind. If he went somewhere, it had to be physically. There had to be a mushroom circle somewhere nearby. Shoving his feet into his shoes, Dirk ran as fast as his feet could carry him to the woods near John’s home, looking high and low for any signs of circles in the dirt.

When he finally spotted the white mushrooms gaily arranged in their near perfect circle a hop skip and a jump away from a stand of trees, he wanted to shout with relief as he jumped inside to stand, prepared for what came. He’d get there and get John and…

And…

Fuck, what was he going to do? How was he going to defeat Hal? He could remember some of the things faeries were apparently weak against, or that they hated, but would they really work against a spirit like Hal that ate dreams and drained souls? It would be like trying to use mosquito spray against an angry polar bear. He was essentially going to be turning up bare handed to try getting John back, and yet even when he thought about it he was hard struck to think of anything he really could have brought that would prepare him better. A normal weapon wasn’t much use in a world where the rules weren’t the same.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he could take a note from the fairytales and use his wits to his advantage.

Dirk was still weighing his options when the surroundings suddenly went blurry, colors running together like wet on wet watercolor gone berserk. He felt nauseated once again, same as he had in his earlier dream, as butterflies began to emerge from the swatches of color and swarm him. Things went dark for a moment in the cloud, Dirk with his arms up to guard his face from the thousands of wings, worried he wouldn’t be able to breathe safely with all the insects flapping about. When they brightened, Dirk dropped down to his knees and promptly threw up outside of the circle.

He shook for a moment before slowly getting back to his feet, wiping his mouth with his forearm. Ugh. Not the best way to make a dramatic appearance, that was for sure.

The forest air was warm, inviting, comfortable enough to sleep in. Leaving behind the mess and the oddly damaged looking mushroom circle, Dirk advanced till he found the ruins of the tea party nearby, then hurried his steps even further beyond when buildings appeared in the distance. No, not buildings, a single splendid compound of topiaries and butterfly gardens, high arching architecture and brightly colored stained glass windows. A castle in its own right, it lay unguarded, an open invitation for Dirk.

“JOHN?” he shouted. There was no point for secrecy. He’d essentially been invited, Hal no doubt knew his home had been invaded. The only reason Dirk was here to begin with was John, and somehow, something in his heart told him he was nearby.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

John had searched every single room he could manage to open the door of from top to bottom. He’d discovered a large kitchen, a library, tons of living quarters ranging from servants rooms to grand suites, and even a music room. He’d found treasures that were no doubt either real or imaginary made real like everything else in this creepy ass fantasyland, and yet he had no interest in touching them or looking them over. Aladdin’s Cave of Wonders struck in his memory, touching the treasure and becoming trapped forever, but it would be overkill even if it were true.

Best not to fuck with the powers that be and get Double Screwed, John decided.

He was about to give up and find somewhere to curl up and wait out a growing headache when he heard his name being called. He grimaced, wrinkling his nose automatically. It sounded like Hal. ...But, wait. If it was Hal, wouldn’t he just appear and do his usual creepy advances and actions? He couldn’t imagine that… that thing doing anything normal like calling for him from a distance instead of just appearing behind him like something out of a B grade movie or teleportation meme. That meant-

“DIRK?” John called, freezing, waiting. Listening. Hoping. Prayi-

“JOHN. DON’T MOVE, I’M COMING!”

Holy fuck.

Holy fucking shit, it was Dirk. It was Dirk, and he was here and he was going to get to go home, and-

“FUCK YOUR NOT MOVING, I’M COMING TOO!” John shouted, already grabbing hold of his silks so he could lift them and run in the direction of Dirk’s voice, taking stairs two at a time as he tried to guesstimate where the shouting was coming from.

“NO, STAY STILL GOD DAMN IT, I’LL BE THERE IN A SECOND.”

Yep. That was definitely Dirk.

“SCREW YOU,” John shouted back, happy enough he could cry.

They reconnected at the foot of a set of stairs, John jumping the last four steps to all but tackle Dirk head first to the ground. Winded but satisfied, Dirk didn’t have a word of complaint. He just grabbed John tight around the middle and squeezed him, head bowed to his shoulder.

“Jesus fuck, don’t ever scare me like that again,” he insisted. “Come on, we’ve gotta get you home, your Dad’s losing his goddamn mind worrying about you and the cops are already-”

“The police??” John said, startled. He figured his dad was upset, but the cops? Holy shit, this was another order of extreme. “I don’t.. I don’t know how to get back,” admitted John. “I tried the mushroom circle I got here through and it didn’t work.”

“We’ll figure it out, maybe it’ll work now that I’m here,” Dirk said. “I managed to come through on my own, without assistance. So. Maybe it-”

“That’s not all,” John admitted, worrying his lip with his large teeth. “It’s. ..Dirk, I fucked up,” he croaked.

“Fucked up?”

“I. I ate something. And drank something,” he said. “I was frustrated and thirsty and crammed something in my mouth after drinking tea like in my dream and. ...Dirk, I fucked up bad, I don’t know how I’m going to leave. He’s got my-”

“Shhhhhh. We’ll figure it out, okay? I promise,” Dirk soothed, squeezing John again. “For now, get off me. We’ll go back to the mushroom circle and see if we can get anything to happen, then we can look for-”

“For me?” Hal asked, strolling in from outdoors. “Lovely weather we’re having. Though it does seem to have brought the pests in from outside,” he sniffed, taking a drag on the same pipe that had marked Dirk’s neck earlier. Dirk flinched instinctively when he saw it as if it would burn him once more, remembering the sizzle of flesh, the heat.

John glowered and pointed to him. “He’s got… Dirk I think he’s got my soul.”

“You think?” Hal said, gesturing to his necklace after blowing a smoke ring. “I squeeze the air from your lungs, and you think I have your soul? You’re lucky you’re attractive, John.”

Dirk shuffled to get up from the ground, standing between John and Hal pointedly, looking for all intents and purposes ready to fist fight. “Let him go.”

“No, but nice form with the asking. Nicely enunciated and everything,” Hal chuckled.

“ Let him go, Hal, ” Dirk said pointedly again. “What do you want? A trade?”

“I don’t do trades, human. Rarely do things I want end up on trades, which means I’d be doing you a favor. We don’t do favors unless there’s something spectacular in it for us,” Hal explained. “I have his soul fair and square in this case, even if he got here originally under different means. Nobody forced him to eat my food, and yet he ate and drank. He’s bonded here now, Dirk. ...Look at him closely. Don’t you already see some changes?” Hal asked, holding one elbow so he could smoke while Dirk panicked and looked towards John as he sat up and slowly stood.

From the outside, John looked normal. Scared and stressed out, but normal. It took real hunting to notice the new tips to his ears, to notice the faint glow to the eyes. Dirk held John’s face in his hands, tracing the edges of his jaw with his thumbs to try soothing the growing terror he saw on John’s face once recognition set in that there were changes he couldn’t detect on his own but that Dirk himself saw.

“He’ll stay here now,” Hal said simply. “I’ll take good care of him, my precious little hummingbird. I had plans to keep him here anyway, but once he broke a golden rule it was more of a self fulfilling prophecy in itself. I don’t make the golden rules, I merely abide by them when they align with what I’m after.”

“...What about a bargain,” Dirk said. “Me for him.”

“I can’t accept a trade, once he’s broken a golden rule. Bargains, mayhaps. But not a trade unless the boon suits me.”

Dirk wet his lips, and racked his brain. Think. Think, think, think, think, what did spirits like? Winning, gambling, bargains, rule-

“...How much did he eat and drink.”

“Enough.”

“I remember Persephone was kept in the Underworld for a translated amount of how many pomegranate seeds she’d eaten. A set number of months,” Dirk said, uncertainly at first then with more confidence when Hal fixed him with a poisonous glare. “ How many months worth did John eat and drink.”

Hal gripped his pipe hard enough that the metal bent before dropping it to the side. Slowly but surely, he allowed his appearance to change, his wings emerging and the red markings reappearing on his face. He fluttered softly off the ground in order to get into Dirk’s face, all but growling at him.

“Are you proud of yourself, boy? Proud for remembering stories? For picking apart minute details to find the needle in the hay stack?”

“How many months, Hal,” Dirk said, unflinching.

“Six, at least,” insisted Hal. “Perhaps more.”

“Six months a year,” Dirk said, wetting his lips. “No less?”

“He drank and ate, you’re lucky I don’t just keep him forever for eating anything at all. Those changes won’t disappear,” Hal said, continuing to stare Dirk down intently, waiting for him to flinch. “Your neck. How much does it ache? I bet it burns something awful. Pity, I fear such a thing would be permanent.”

“Six months. ...John. This is a very serious question. Can you handle six months in and out, if it means getting out at all?” Dirk asked, unwavering.

John could only stare. Was he serious? He laughed a few times before it quieted down in his throat, John realizing that nobody else was laughing. This wasn’t funny. This wasn’t a joke. This was dead serious.

“...If it’s the only way, I can,” John said.

“Let him go, Hal. Collect him in six months,” Dirk said.

“Why should I?” he snapped, fluttering away to round on John, curling around his back and grasping his chin with one hand, his free hand picking up his necklace with the softly glowing marble inside. “He’s mine right now, why should I give him up a day sooner than six months? Why should I go second when he’s already here ?”

“...Because it would make me like you more,” John piped up, going rigid in Hal’s grasp. “That’s what you want, right? For me to like you? I’d like you more if you gave me this chance to get my affairs in order instead of just letting people think I’m dead for half a year. I can’t do that to my father. If you actually care about me at all, you’ll do that for me. And in six months I’ll come back to you.”

Hal frowned. John had a point, and he hated it. As wonderful as it would be to greedily keep him here the six months before returning him, gaining favor with his new human would be a boon.

“Tempting. But I’m already at my limits from allowing you to leave at all. Make the pot a bit sweeter. Your liking me is good, but it’s not enough of a gain to take the bargain out of hand.”

“He’ll be away from me for six months at a time, isn’t that a good enough bargain for you?” Dirk spat. “What better revenge than to hurt me at the same time as making him happy?”

The pot was sweetened just enough to interest Hal in opening the other side of the portal.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

John’s reappearance had been a cause for celebration as much as it was then a cause for tears. Though still a bit confused, James was accepting of John’s explanation of why he’d be all but disappearing in a few months once more, on the grounds that he’d be okay upon returning. That he could handle what was happening. They had promises from Hal about visitations in dreams between father and son that would, hopefully, quell some of the heartache. Any dreams Dirk could have about John would be merely that: dreams of his own making. It was a heavy price, but it had gained John a bit of freedom in a position where he might have had none.

On the day John was set to leave, butterflies awaited them at the mushroom circle, as well as their master dressed in casual human clothes that looked eerily like the outfit Dirk was wearing that day down to the pointy shades. John’s father hugged him so hard he was sure his ribs would pop, not wanting to let his baby boy go till the last possible moment. When he did, it was Dirk’s turn, holding John gently. They’d already said their goodbyes, had made the most of the six months while they could, but it was still a bittersweet parting.

“I’ll be right here in six months, waiting for you,” Dirk said softly. “I’ll dream about you every night.”

“I know,” John said quietly, nudging his chin onto Dirk’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry this happened, John… If I’d just listened to the stupid stories, then-”

“Don’t. We’ve already been over this, you can’t kick yourself for things that aren’t your fault. I’ll kick your ass before I leave and kick it again in six months because I know you’ll have moped over it again,” he chuckled.

“While we’re young?” Hal said. “Are you quite done? I’ve a castle worth of beings to introduce you to and we’re burning dreamlight.”

John squeezed Dirk once more before leaning up to kiss him, pulling back with a grin. “Six months.”

“Six months,” repeated Dirk. “And not a fucking day longer or I’ll come and drag you back myself.”

Slowly they parted, and with his bag on his back, John headed towards Hal and the circle. Hal reached for John’s hand and clasped it tightly for no other reason than to piss off Dirk, pettily delighting in the frown it earned him. They entered the circle and waited… and then were gone.

James breathed out softly and stared.

“You know, you boys explained everything to me and I still half believed it was a prank til the last second. ...He’ll really be back in six months, right?”

“Of course he will. And if not, I’ll get him myself, like I said.”

The two stood there looking at the circle, already feeling their loss.

It was going to be a long six months, and an even longer lifetime afterwards of adjusting to what lay in store for John.

#johndirk #dirkjohn #johnhal #homestuck #my fic

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years

Text

animaniacs - s4e8: mindy in wonderland

episode summary: a lighthearted episode about mindy chasing a rabbit down a hole in the tree she’s always tied to, and ending up in a magical, literary dreamland. there’s no mice, but it’s fun, and takes up the whole runtime, and-- what? no, i-- look, it’s just-- i don’t--

sir, you don’t pay me at all--

alright fine ugh ughghghguhgughgu ugh.

great.

episode summary: the hip hippos are expecting a baby! unfortunately, ordering babies off the internet instead of concieving them through, like, hippo sex? appears to have its’ downsides, and instead they are presented with.... brain.

look, i don’t know either, okay? i’m dragging my hands down my face as we speak.

the rundown:

we open with the stork.

“i got a very special delivery! the rockefellers have been waiting weeks for this one.” he pronounces it “spatial”, probably because he’s high out of his mind. this is not a sober bird. please don’t drop that baby, my dude. that’s going to cause more problems than it solves, really.

spoke too soon, i guess.

unfortunately for him, our dude does exactly that, and ends up taking a bit of a tumble. gets all dizzy. this does not bode well for the plot. or the wellbeing of the baby, actually!

hold up. computer, zoom, enhance.

hmmm. that is a very familiar tiny face. troubling. anyway our resident avian expert on drugs seems to have survived his accident, and drops the baby off to the rockefellers with no further trouble.

they seem to look more. hippo shaped than usual.

“congratulations! you’re new parents!”

you’re welcome, weird stoner bird. they slam the door on him, wordlessly exacerbating his injuries. they care not for his plight, only that of their dearest, darling... not very.... hippo sized...................... baby.

hm.

“oh flavio! darling! a baby of our own, just look at him! let us call him--”

“--alfredo!”

“goo.”

alright. as existentially horrifying as this episode is, i laughed. maurice lemarche, completely dead in the face, sits in the recording booth, stretches his shoulders. “goo.” he says. deadpan. no intonation whatsoever. the audience cheers and he is given a thousand dollars.

i don’t know what it is about brain saying basically anything that appeals to my sense of humour so much. jockey for position basically did me in. i just. every time he says “goo.” i am in TEARS.

the hippos seem to have lost their enthusiasm, as anyone would have if they heard the voice of a grown man come out of their newborn baby.

“he’s... small. very small.”

“goo.”

still, marita sympathises with him. this is very definitely her child, after all! she steals him away to do mom things with, chastising flavio that ‘alfredo’ is “their little boy.”

“oh, you are right, my lightbulb of love. now our little universe has expanded to three.”

yeah, don’t include your.... shoulder... birds, then. asshole.

it’s very cute, i’ll say that. for all the fuss i make about the hippos, they do love each other, in a very healthy way that you don’t often see with married couples on tv. like, they’re kind of slowdancing their way out of the room. it’s nice! they would make good parents.

(”goo.” says brain, in the background, oblivious to the heterosexuality happening around him. “now, take me to my money.”)

credit to flavio and marita; they are very well prepared. this is a very loved baby. i’m not entirely sure how any child would feel about the presence of Clown Bear, but it’s the thought that counts. also i know that’s a changing table? but the design is sick and i wouldn’t mind a chest of drawers like that.

there’s also a theatre, i guess. or..... maybe just a really fancy shower???

Definitely Alfredo is gently placed on his little Alfredo Table. he appears to be asleep, or at least he’s deliberately choosing to keep his eyes closed. can’t think why.

but he, ah. sure went all out for this one. i respect brain for his dedication to the craft.

“now, sweet baby alfredo,” says marita, while the music does a terrifying swell in the background, for some reason, “it is time for your first bath.”

please stop looking at me like that, marita. YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO BATHING. am i about to be inducted into the alfredo cult?? i am, admittedly, a manlet, but i would like to think i am also unmistakably larger than a baby hippo.

(google has no data about the height of a baby hippo, apparently. they do weigh about 100lbs at birth, though, so i guess i have to be careful with this losing weight shtick. not that i’m ever gonna weigh 100lbs, quite frankly, but the minute i do marita’s gonna climb through my window and steal me off to los angeles.)

(i’m terrified.) (on the other hand, they’re definitely going to give me back as soon as they work out how much my medication costs over there.)

i’m literally babbling nonsense, at this point. anyway. brain gets a bath.

remember to Wosh U Mouse. wash he teeth and soul. marita proclaims excitedly that “babies love the bath”, and Definitely Alfredo is Definitely Enjoying Himself, judging by the screaming, so, yknow, good for him.

and then, i guess, flavio just pours boiling water on him for no reason, so brain freaks out and launches himself into the light fitting.

because wouldn’t anybody?

the hippos freak out a bit when the lights stop working, but soon get brain back down to resume their usual Alfredo Activities.

“this is highly undignified.”

but still, marita loves him.

and then she stabs him in the dick, i guess.

“GAH.”

“oops ):”

fortunately, nobody ever died of getting stabbed in the dick (as far as i know?) but even magical babies delivered by amazon need to get their vitals checked, so flavita take him to the hospital anyway.

bomf.

i’ll be dead honest with you, this scene is just torture porn. i’ll summarise it as best i can.

temperature is fine. blood pressure is normal. i am pretty sure inflating babies is not standard medical practice, but brain is cosmically unable to have a good day or he dies, i guess.

the doctor shows up.

“oh, but you’re a cutie. say aaaah.”

“if you think that you’re going to stick that thing in my--”

it’s not very comfortable.

“hmm. rather puny.”

“you have to feed him more.”

NOW LET’S TEST YOUR REFLEXES

i’m pretty sure this man has never been to medical school.

“and now to vaccinate. my, that’s a lot of zeros.”

my, that’s a... screenshot that lives on my laptop now, i guess. hopefully nobody i know ever has to borrow this thing, for whatever reason.

“i’ll see you in three months for a booster shot,” says dr acme, as brain swells and changes colours in a way that no baby ever should.

i feel like this is a good time to interject - my issue with this episode is not the core themes, or anything surrounding them. it’s the amount of unrestrained suffering that goes on within that. like. okay. if this was some kind of consensual dynamic between the three of them for-- whatever reason???? stress?????? - like i wouldn’t mind. i wouldn’t care. consenting adults can do whatever they want with their bodies. this is a positive space. no judgement here on pinkys fault or brains fault dot com.

but it’s not and brain spends most of the episode in pain and terrified and that’s really what i object to above all else. it’s the same problem i have with peatb, really. brain can wear as many cute dresses as he wants, but he’s gotta want to wear them.

but they’re back at the Hippo Digs now so. it’s fine, i guess.

“such a good boy. that trip to the doctor wasn’t so bad, was it?”

hm.

still, it appears i can never escape Terrifying News Lady, even in this hellscape. flavio does the classic dad thing of sitting down with the tv as soon as he’s home, leaving marita to deal with getting Definitely Alfredo settled in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby chair.

what are those straps connected to, anyway??? it’s not the chair, that’s for sure. is brain just wearing a harness for the hell of it? what on earth is going on?

but flavio! it’s time to feed the baby!

“is baby-waby hungry-wungry?” well are you, cranky big head mousie??? huh????

sorry for the paralysing fear that probably caused all of you. undeterred, the terrifying news lady continues to talk in the background about the “richest and most influential child in the world.”

oh no.

flavio vaguely wonders if they waited too long to feed their baby, as he has what could be possibly classified as a tantrum.

“you sophomoric, corpulent, pachycerebal aristrocrats! you are imposters and i demand to be taken to the rockefellers immediately!”

the birds don’t care. they’re chilling. marita attributes this to “baby gibberish” while flavio wonders about the “vocabulary he learnt from mr rogers”. he’s maybe a few hours old, at this point, a day tops, but i guess hippos learn latin in pre-k or something.

anyway so then they stick a tube down his throat and inflate him with guacamole.

and with that, “alfredo looks healthier already!”

this is the second time brain has been inflated in this episode. it is unsurprising that he dedicates his nights from this point to raising absolute hell.

but he needs pats first because he ate too much. :<

cut to that night, i guess! where brain is very convincingly crying. very loudly. the hippos look unimpressed, despite the fact that this is literally the most common factor of signing up for a baby.

“it’s the baby. you take care of him.”

well. alright.

air mouse. nyoom. he seems to catapult himself at something, like, once per episode. it’s on par with the closeups by now, surely.

bomp.

unfortunately, the bear is not weightbearing (bear ing. lol) and falls off the shelf on an epic quest for a Great Big Hug.

the resulting bomp alerts the hippos, who go fully, entirely haywire the moment they work out that Definitely Alfredo is not in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby bed.

turns out flavio sat on him.

“really, flavio, be more careful where you sit.”

so they put a padlock on his crib.

this is completely useless. i know this. brain knows this. he’s small enough to just... fit through the bars. but he decides to be dramatic, instead, because that’s what he does best.

“attica! attica! i want out! let me out!”

i am not old enough to get this reference.

i am, however, old enough to empathise with this exact emotion. i feel kind of bad for the hippos, actually. i’m sure they were doing what they thought was... right? in the context of... thinking they had a baby hippo rather than an adult mouse. easy mistake to make. i go check on my weirdly tiny hippos in their hippo cage all the time.

but who could be at the door?

“there seems to have been a mix up. uh. i have your baby right here.”

and guys?

i need to tell you how fast they just throw brain at the guy. it’s actually a little heartbreaking.

but! it’s okay! he still has time to make it to the rockefellers before they......... die. i guess.

man, this plan was not thought out very well.

conclusion:

thank god this is almost over.

the stork repackages the baby, who is now a good few hours old, at least, and delivers the bundle to the very, very different looking house.

they are not any nicer.

“oh, reggie. just look at him.”

“goo.”

“well, frau haussenheffer, we’re off on a cruise. goodbye baby. see you in a year.”

parenting!

“alright then. staff, we have a brand new charge.”

oh dear.

brain, as one can imagine, is having none of this.

but unfortunately, neither is the carpet.

bomp. cause of death: suffocating in the rockefeller mansion carpet.

good thing it all sort of blurs out, huh.

“brain?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain, wake up.”

“i was dreaming?”

oh, thank god for that.

“oh, pinky, you wouldn’t believe the nightmare i had.” and it’s... probably best not to tell him, actually.

“it must have been a doozy, brain! but, oh, a delivery came for you.”

“it’s the rockefeller baby. can we keep it?”

oh dear.

so let’s ignore the fact that this asks more questions than it answers-- but okay, was that a dream within a dream, and why was brain dreaming about that in the first place, and-- and mark this one down as a severe case of outside influence.

brain: 3 ½ pinky: 5 ½ outside influence: 10

“it’s not too late. i demand that you deliver me to the rockefellers immediately!”

“

“aw, how cute. i just love baby gibberish.”

#patb #a!#pinky and the brain #animaniacs #i'm almost done with a! now!#only one more short to go #more importantly #i'm done with this short specifically. so i never have to watch it again

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