#ugh now i miss dirk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkhymns-fic · 4 years ago

Text

How I Became the Sea

On a routine fishing trip, Lloyd meets a selkie girl named Colette - and from then on, she was like a secret he wanted to keep all to himself.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Dirk Rating: T Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for Day 5: AU / Crossover! I wanted to pair a selkie story to match with this art by @frayed-symphony and also because I have been thinking too much about a selkie au with them.

Lloyd had once dreamed about being adrift at sea.

His body floated just above the waves, the sky a dark and angry red, rain pelting his face and hair. Every time he opened his mouth, sea water rushed through, trying to clog his throat, trying to drown him. He tasted salt on his tongue, felt the tinge of the lightning as it crashed across the clouds. He was lost, and there was nothing he could do.

But in the dream, he felt arms grab hold of him. They kept him in the water still, but he no longer sank. The arms were strong, secured him in their grip. He would be okay, if he just let the waves take him along and ride the storm out.

Dirk had told him that such a dream was an omen.

“Be careful you don’t sink now,” Dirk had warned his son before he set sail, out in the boat he had long promised to make by himself. “Many sailors would postpone their trip after having a vision such as yours.”

“Good thing I’m not like most sailors!” Lloyd had argued, waving away such concerns. “It was only a dream anyway.”

He was not old enough to have weathered the superstitions, to look up at the roiling sky at dawn and make sense of the portents in the water beneath. But maybe, that was just all part of his luck.

The sky had been clear when he set out. He checked the rigging on his small boat, packed away his fishing gear, and then set off. The boat wobbled when he stepped inside, but his hands held onto the edges as he easily seated himself.

He had done this numerous times, the waves lapping at his vessel, the sea so dark if he leaned over to look. Even if he fell overboard, he would simply swim. There was no danger here at all.

He was not usually the only sailor either. Off in the distance, a much larger sea vessel lumbered along the waves, puffing smoke out of its center, acrid and harsh to the lungs if he were to get any closer. Back on shore where the ports were, locals fixed the ropes, took to fishing there instead of bobbing all the while out on the water. No fishermen were too close too his spot, no one except the raucous seagulls, which occasionally tried to nip at his bait box when he opened it.

As he settled his boat on the water, he gathered the net to hang from the side, then went to retrieve his rods before he noticed something odd. He sighed upon realizing. “Did I really forget to put the fishing line on this morning?” He had slept in for a bit…

With that, he went and searched through his packs, hearing the splash of water to his right. The fish must have been lively today, and he was already missing it!

He kept searching through the tight corners of his little boat, but couldn’t find the fishing line anywhere! “I thought I…put it here…” Another search, but he only came upon the same boots, the same pack full of bait. “Where is it…?” Ugh, did I really leave it at home?

A soft voice floated to him, so light that a strong gust of wind could have blown it away. “Is it this?”

He turned. A hand was outstretched, holding the plastic cord gently in its palm, the line wrapped around it as clear as silk.

“Oh, thank you! I was looking for that.” He took the fishing line gratefully. Then stopped. Then thought a moment.

He was out in the middle of the ocean. So, another hand… was kind of weird, wasn’t it?

When he moved to look over the side, he didn’t do it quickly or with loud movements. A hand carefully placed itself over the rim, fingers pressed against the damp wood, the thin lines of a fishing net he had also brought along with him, ready to be cast out into the water.

Sunlight fell over waves, so bright that it blinded him. Salt on his tongue, eyes still peering through the light, he found her there – and felt familiarity.

It’s said that beauty cannot be trusted when it’s from the sea. A wondrous pattern can lure any curious sailor to fall overboard, or a song so piercing the heart can smash a ship to pieces against rocks hidden beneath. But the girl that peeked her face from the waves only blinked, her golden hair unfurling all around her, like the serrated drapes of a strange curtain.

Lloyd leaned forward, just a bit, as his tiny rowboat wobbled, the splashing water taking over sound.

He saw the shape of a fish tail far beneath her in the swirling dark, saw the trails of scales that dotted her shoulders, and the curved fins that poked out from the sides of her head.

There was a name for this, along with a story, and a lesson hidden away… if he could just remember it.

Silence, except for the creaking of the rowboat, moving with the shifting waves, stretched between them. He knew the girl could speak, but she didn’t do it now. She only placed her hands on the side of the boat, looking up at him with a curiosity Lloyd couldn’t help but share. The way she touched the boat looked as if she were about to knock, asking to be let in.

“Hi…” Lloyd finally spoke, still in awe of her. He started at the hair that looked as thin as twine, the sheen of the scales of her tail refracting the sunlight, even when submerged in the deep. Water bobbed up to her chin, and it seemed she was sinking lower and lower, away from him.

“Wait! Um…” Lloyd nearly reached out, stopped when he thought he saw her flinch. “What’s your name?”

The girl stared – the selkie – and the word only floated to his mind through the gruff voice of his father. Old stories told in the quiet evenings, through the crackling of the fireplace that would make him feel so warm that he’d fall asleep, curled up in great arms.

Her hands were near his own, hovering near scratches and dents that were on its side, from years of salt peeling away the paint, from scuffing too close to rocks or piers when Lloyd had first started sailing.

“I’m Lloyd,” he told her, just loud enough for her to hear through the lapping water.

A blink, eyes that matched the shade of the sea when the sun hit it at certain angles in the early morning, and then she spoke.

But she spoke while her mouth was half-submerged in water. “Bluppbb,” was all she said.

“..Huh?” Lloyd started, then smirked, small laughter bubbling from his lips.

The girl only seemed to realize just then what she had done. “Oh!” She rose further up, nearly knocking heads with Lloyd from the motion. “I’m sorry!”

“T-That’s okay!” Lloyd said, and he couldn’t seem to push away the grin on his face. “I just couldn’t catch that.”

The selkie was now half-over the rim of his boat, water trickling from her hair. She was mostly bare except for the scales around herself, like speckled turquoise that was patterned against the skin, falling like rain into the sea below.

But he noticed something else about her – she was smiling too.

“Sorry,” she apologized once more, her tail fin splashing in the water. “My name is Colette.”

It is in those old folktales that his father would tell about the sailors who found selkies, how compelled they were to keep them to themselves.

Lloyd wondered if that was what he was doing, sailing out to the ocean each day to fish, to the exact spot where Colette waited for him.

“Here, I got you something,” he told her one day. It had been routine to always give each other something nearly whenever they met. Once she had given him a polished pearl, its surface so white and luminous, and another time, she had given him a bunch of seaweed she said was good for having with food! With Colette, it was always a surprise.

“Is it another figurine?” she asked him, and he remembered her wide-eyed fascination as he gave her an old carving of a dolphin he had fashioned out of oak. But both the salt and pressure of the water had been too much for it, and she confessed how it had fallen apart in her hands when she swam back down below.

“Hopefully it’s better than that,” he said, and handed her a necklace, its chain colored red, the gem in the middle winking from the sun. “It’s waterproof, so you should be able to take it without it rusting!” And he had heard of jewelry weathering the depths of the ocean, so hopefully this could work as well?

In comparison to the jewel-like scales on her, maybe the necklace looked drab and plain. But still she took it with excitement, fingers already sliding across the chain. “Is this a human invention?”

“Er, I guess so,” Lloyd said with a shrug. “I just made it. You said you liked shiny things, so I tried to make it extra shiny too!”

And maybe that was true of all selkies? Lloyd wasn’t sure, but he was hesitant to ask his dad, or anyone about it. All that mattered was Colette’s happy grin, and how she looked at the gem in the middle that caught her reflection. She even flicked out her tongue to lick at it!

“It tastes funny!” she said, laughing as she did so. “I like it!”

“Well, it’s not meant for eating!” Lloyd corrected. “You just wear it around your neck.”

“Oh.” Colette looked at it again, bobbing up and down the water along with the rowboat. She managed to work the clasps of the chain open, and just when he thought she would put it on, she held the ends of it back to him. “Can you show me how?”

“You already got it halfway,” he said, but took the chains, her hands brushing against his, damp from the sea, yet still so warm.

He knew that people typically turned around to let someone else latch a necklace on them, but Colette wasn’t like most people, so she stayed facing him, watching as he leaned forward to put her new gift on.

He was close enough to catch each individual scale that lined her head fins, see the sharp curve of her teeth as she giggled at the sensation of his fingers over her neck. “It tickles!”

She was the most interesting person to him. “Almost got it,” he finally remembered to say. “And…there!”

Moving back and seeing her in full, he wished he had crafted something better. The gem he had used look dull compared to her, the shape of the pendant too plain against her existence. Yet even so, Colette looked happy.

“Thank you! I still have to give you your gift.” She then reached her hands underneath the water, tongue sticking out of her mouth as she searched… and then leaned back up, a multitude of little mussels cupped in her palms. “Some food for you!”

Of course, Lloyd happily accepted, as he still would be if she just gave him an old tire that had run down from the river and out into the sea. (Which did happen… He figured he could find some use for it).

It would be another trip where he barely caught much, of anything at all, though he could use the mussels Colette had given him as a substitute. Even so, he’d have to come up with a reason to his dad why his fishing trips had been so unsuccessful lately.

He just wanted to keep Colette to himself.

Two months after Lloyd had started seeing Colette, Dirk had once stopped him at the door, the hour so very early.

“The fish don’t bite so much during this season,” his father had told him, working on mending their wooden coffee table – one of the legs had snapped after Noishe had jumped on it. “Sure you should be going out at this time?”

The lie was ready at Lloyd’s tongue, and maybe on other days, he’d feel bad about it. Instead he grinned, winding the net around his fist. “Fall down seven times, get back up eight. I shouldn’t give up yet, right?”

“Hm,” Dirk muttered, but the lie wasn’t called out. And with that, Lloyd hurried out the door. He didn’t take note of the red skies.

He made the same preparations as always, tying up the rigging and securing the oars, bringing along his boxes of bait and fishing lines, and the net that he hooked to the end of his boat. Then he rowed out to sea, past other sailors that were in the distance, moving further and further away until he reached a sort of privacy out in the open water – to where Colette always waited for him.

Except she wasn’t there.

Sometimes she’d be late, apologizing and explaining how she had tripped over a shellfish on the way. Lloyd would ask how someone could trip while they were swimming… and then they’d forget what they were even talking about in the first place, her arms leaning against the boat, playing with his fishing lines as her fingers got tangled in it in intricate patterns, and him watching it all with a smile, once again barely catching any fish at all.

But he waited, and waited, and continued to wait. It was soon past noon. Colette never showed up.

The boat creaked underneath his weight. The net felt rough against his fingers as he still held it on the rim of the boat, its ends barely reaching the waters. Gazing out over the strangely calm waters today, he pulled back the net, moved the oars out of their handles, and headed somewhere new.

Maybe it was curiosity that made him go down a different direction to shore. He passed by other boats, those much bigger and with greater nets at their portside, at the sailors who gave him a quick glance before returning to their work. There was something pulling at him then, something in the skies, only now noting their color.

His father had warned him of omens, but never said that the omen would be for him.

It was like water, clogging his throat.

Colette had not been far.

It had been mid-afternoon when he set out, the sun still bright despite its lurid color. Now it was early evening, the waves crashing more frequently against his boat, pulling at his oars. The wind bit at his bare arms, trying to throw salt in his eyes. He felt coated in grime, felt as if he had been rolled into the ocean, left to marinate until the salt soaked him dry.

It was the shine of her hair that drew her to him.

He found her tangled in fishing nets on the shore, the sky still so red, even in the dark. Red-tinged clouds at night should not have made him so worried. But they did, making him hastily pull his boat to shore, unmindful of any rocks or gravel that could have torn the underside. He leapt from the side, rushing to her, his feet sinking in the sand with each step.

She didn’t have her scales anymore.

“Colette?” he called out. Only silence back, tinged by the red skies. “Colette!”

He caught a sharp glint in his sight; the necklace she still wore, the pendant laying squarely on her chest. And there, tangled around her legs, was a blanket of starlight. He stared at it, trying to make sense of its fabric and shape.

She stirred slightly, her mouth half-buried in the sand.

He had to get the net off her first.

As he got closer, Lloyd was reminded of the poor seals that would get tangled up in such nets, fisherman careless in how they cast it out, too low into the waters where such animals fed in. The lines would be so tough and the struggle so unbearable that it would cut through their skin, staining blood right onto the sand.

He could already see the bruises around her arms, her shoulders, and on her newfound legs that he was sure she didn’t use to have… But at some point, she must have passed out, stopping her struggles to sleep everything away. Lloyd took his small whittling knife that he carried out of sheer habit, and then carefully sliced open the net, one thread at a time.

When she was finally in his arms, she felt light. Still, that strange blanket was over her, but it looked so thin. Surely it wasn’t enough to shield her from the cold.

He felt her move, her hands reaching to grab at his shirt in her sleep. “..Nn…”

“It’s okay! I’m taking you home.” And Lloyd did not know that the words he just said were echoes of those from before, of those who wanted to keep what they found to themselves, clutching that same coat of starlight in their hands.

As he walked further inland, leaving his boat on the shore, the sky stayed red, long into the night.

Dirk had already gone to bed, but even if he was awake, Lloyd would make sure to keep quiet. So, with all the remembered stealth from his adolescence, he opened the back door of the house, which led to a storage room where fishing tools, old furniture, and other supplies were kept. Through that room, he snuck into another stairway that led upstairs, one that was closer to his room, where the floorboards didn’t creak as much.

The selkie girl was shivering in his arms, even as they finally went inside, away from the biting cold of the shore. The strange blanket she had was cradled against her stomach, half of it laying over Lloyd’s arm. It felt soft to the touch, yet still so thin. What was it…?

“Colette,” he called out again, bringing her to his room and stepping around a pot by his door, containing a healthy cast iron plant he had been growing for the past few years. “Can you hear me?”

For a moment, she stirred, seemed to try to say something, before falling quiet again. Through the half-open balcony doors of his room, he saw the red tinge of the dark sky.

He had to get her warmed up, so he tucked Colette into his bed, careful to not irritate her scratched-up wounds on her arms. Even with his sheets, she still shook. So Lloyd acted on instinct and pulled out one of his spare jackets that hung on the bed, draped it around her shoulders like a second set of blankets.

The red of his jacket was brighter, like the red of the clouds that passed by his window. The light from outside shone on that strange fabric Colette had been carrying, dark like a piece of shadow that had been cut, still housing stars within.

He was curious, and as Colette slept more peacefully, Lloyd reached to grasp the star-studded fabric from her hand, which snuck out from the blanket. It really was so soft to the touch, and it had a texture to it that Lloyd couldn’t really place.

He felt like he should know what this was… But it wasn’t coming to him at all.

“It must be a blanket,” he thought aloud, fingers going over it, reflexively folding it up into a neat square to easily carry. Maybe he could just store it somewhere until Colette woke up? Yeah, that would work! And just as he stood up, carrying the fabric in both hands now, nearly almost hidden away in his grip, he heard a creak from his bed, a soft sigh and a familiar gasp of his name.

“Lloyd..?” There was something about hearing her call to him that made him want to smile, already turning to her ecstatically.

“Colette, you’re up!” He grinned, seeing the red shade of the sky paint against her hair as she slowly sat up. “Do you feel okay?”

She was staring at what he held, and then shrunk away against the headboard of his bed. “So…you’ve taken it…”

And it was only then that he realized, the knowledge of it slowly dawning like the slow crack of a weathered bark of a tree, as the tree would fall and fall almost too slowly, until it snapped halfway from its stump, its end crashing harshly against the ground.

Her coat felt so soft in his hands, his thumb and forefinger rubbing against it gently.

Colette smiled at him, but it was not with the abandoned glee that he was used to seeing whenever he rowed out to see her, the kind that showcased sharp teeth, and highlighted the bright scales of her fins. Only now did he notice that those fins, once on both sides of her head, were no longer there, and her mild attempt at a smile showed no sharpness.

“Someone tried to take my coat earlier today,” she said, the blanket sliding down her legs, legs that she moved with awkwardness, hands placed against her knees. “I was swimming by the rocks on the shore, playing with the seal puppies there… when a man on a boat that made a terrible noise came by. He used something to catch me, and it cut at my skin.” Her fingers gripped each other lightly, marks that he had missed painted on there too. “He knew where my coat was… where it ended… and how to grab it from me…”

Lloyd stood within the middle of the room, watching her silently, seeing the night sky catch the glint of the necklace he had made for her. “Did you think it was me?”

Colette raised her head in guilt, opened her mouth part-way, then closed it again. It was only then she seemed to notice the jacket that was hanging off her shoulders, and she reached out one hand to bring it closer. “No. He didn’t have your smell.” Her voice grew quieter, barely heard over the wind outside. “And his hands felt different.”

Lloyd once again looked to the shroud of starry darkness he held, and now saw it as the same shade as the scales that surrounded her tail, that highlighted the fins and made the light in her eyes sparkle. This held Colette in every seam, in the way it draped over his arms as warm as sunshine. It was so hard to not just hold it against his chest and find some place for it to keep, so that he could always go back to it when needed and –

Colette kept looking at his jacket that he put on her with little thought. Her fingers caught the long strips white tassels that trailed from the collar. “You have mine… but you gave me yours?”

Lloyd quickly walked up to the bed and, with a moment that let him linger too long on the coat against his fingertips, placed it on the bed, practically at Colette’s feet. “It’s yours! You should have it back.” I shouldn’t want it. And even though he would never take it from Colette, knowing what it was and its very importance, he winced at his feelings still, at the strange way he had considered it. Too many stories? Or remembering how Colette had smiled at him when he clasped the necklace on her? “I only wanted to bring you here so that you could rest first.”

She still tugged at his jacket, and so the next words fell out of his mouth without him even thinking on it. “You could keep that too, if you wanted!” Had it been too stupid to say? But he kept going, watching how her hair fell around the red leather fabric. “You seemed cold, so I put it on for you.”

Colette gazed at Lloyd wide-eyed, and with his words, she pulled the jacket around her torso, the loose sleeves falling at her sides to lay folded at the mattress. “I do like yours… Is that really okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine!” Once again he looked to the dark, folded up shape on the bed, but stopped himself from touching it. “I can make us some hot chocolate. You want any? And you can stay here until you’re ready to go home.”

She looked to say something else, but then paused. Her hands went from the jacket to the selkie coat that was folded with care. “Home… Um, yeah! I don’t know what chocolate is, but I would like some.”

Lloyd smiled, and the strange feeling from before seemed to wash away from his mind – even if some of it lingered still, watching Colette unfurl the selkie coat like a piece of the night sky. “Heh, I think you’d like it.”

And with Colette still wearing his jacket, legs folded underneath her on the bed, she stayed with him for the night. He helped bandage up her scratches and other wounds, moving aside the jacket to get at the ones near her shoulders. He then taught her how to hold the mug carefully in both hands, but told her it was okay to drop it if she needed to, for the mugs were of polished wood and didn’t break as easily. He also showed her the way to put on his jacket, so that she sat across from him, decked out in the red of his coat. It was still unbuttoned down the front, her necklace plain for him to see.

The hour grew too late, that not even Lloyd could keep his eyes open. He yawned wide, enough to crack his jaw just a bit. “Sorry… You should sleep. I think I should too.” He got up from the chair he had placed next to the bed so they could chat easier. “I can make us breakfast in the morning.”

Colette said nothing at first, seemingly content in looking at him. The silence made him see her again, at the way her selkie features seemed to have vanished, looking just like the girls from town… except, no, her eyes were still different, still that deep blue.

“Where will you sleep?” she asked him, pulling him out of a strange daydream.

“I was just going to be downstairs… I won’t be gone.” He’d have to pull out the couch which was rather old and stiff, and wake up early enough to avoid his father’s suspicions, who already woke up early enough as it was.

“But this is where you usually sleep?” she asked him, tilting her head.

Lloyd scratched at his hair, still half-dusted from the sea breeze. “Yeah? But, it’s yours tonight.”

And then she took his hand, held it between her own, fingertips tracing along his knuckles and thumb. With the way she touched him, it was almost entrancing, like a spell.

Later he would wonder, and later he would brush that away. Already had he been drawn to her, when she splashed in the water, smiling sharp teeth.

“I still remember them grabbing me,” she whispered, sinking into his jacket, comforted in it. “I… would like to not be alone.”

Lloyd’s memories were hazy ever since, just remembering the feel of her hands as she drew him close, the brush of her hair just against his neck. He thought he remembered the rhythm of someone’s breath, something warm and comforting – and then the taste of salt on his lips. But it had been sweet, like taffy, and the arms around him like blankets that kept him safe.

At some point he must have fallen asleep, for when he woke up the next morning that was clear and blue, lying on his bed, Colette had left.

She had taken both his coat and her own.

For the next few weeks, he no longer saw Colette, even as he passed by the same fishing spot they would once gather at each day.

But this time, he no longer worried for her, unlike before. Because sometimes she’d still leave him little gifts; once her own fashioned necklace of seaweed and pearls, floating at the top of the water’s surface. Another time, the curious splash of a baby seal that had pawed at a boat’s side, holding a seashell, carved with unfamiliar runes over its surface. And once, when he had been fishing, (and actually getting his catch), he found a lock of her golden hair on his hook, fashioned curiously like a bow, the shape of it enough to make him laugh.

Even though he missed her, he knew that most likely she would never come to meet face-to-face with him again. He had held her coat without her consent, had thought about keeping it stored somewhere out of reach. He was happy to, at the very least, receive her gifts.

“Suddenly you’ve become a much better fisherman,” Dirk commented as he looked over Lloyd’s catch one day, taking a mackerel to fillet and gut for their dinner. “Found a better spot this time?”

“Not really,” Lloyd said, determined to not lie anymore to him, even if his dad would never know about it. “The fish just come easier now.”

Lloyd started dreaming again of floating out to sea, the skies full of stormy red. He’d dream again of arms holding him close, keeping him safe in the water. He knew he was safe now, that he really had nothing to fear. So he’d open his mouth, and still be able to breathe, something sweet on his lips. He’d look towards the oceans depths and feel a hand hold his own tight, guiding him all the way.

If it was still an omen, he didn’t know what it meant. And should an omen make you feel this comforted anyway?

One day, Lloyd didn’t go on another fishing trip, but instead went out into town to restock on supplies; the tilled soil for the gardens, the kibble for Noishe, the paint for the much bigger ship he was going to build someday and sail out into the world. If he was going to be a sailor, he figured he should start acting like one!

So when he came back home, carrying the supplies from his truck to the garage at home, he didn’t expect to see familiar golden hair at his doorstep, talking to his father.

“He just went out to the city streets, but he shouldn’t be long,” Dirk’s voice traveled to him. Then he saw the shorter man turn to him, his thick beard lifting with a hidden smile. “Ah, there he is. Lloyd! You got company!”

Lloyd was unsure if, perhaps, he was still dreaming.

But he didn’t stay back, instead he walked, then ran to the house, only remembering to stop just before crashing right into her. Noishe was nearby as well, head leaning towards the girl’s hands to get a pet from her.

“Colette?” Lloyd said, too dumb to keep such precious words hidden, his father’s eyes still on him. But he was looking at her, standing on two legs again, dressed in a long skirt, though her feet were bare. Her blouse was loose, matching the afternoon sky, along with the satchel slung over her shoulder. And her hair fell down her shoulders and back like a golden cascade.

No scales, no fins, but it was her, the selkie girl right at his doorstep.

“Lloyd! It’s so good to see you,” she said to him, hands clasped before her. “I hope it’s okay to visit?”

Nothing could stop the stupid grin forming on Lloyd’s face, the light laugh that tumbled from his throat. “Yeah! I just didn’t think… I just hadn’t seen you in a while.”

By this time, his father had decided to give them some privacy, heading back inside through the front door and taking Noishe with him. Lloyd wondered if Dirk knew anything about Colette, but everything about her passed for human, down to the clothes and the smile she showed.

Once they were alone, he had to ask her, remembering only one other time she had appeared this way to him. “Is everything okay? Do you still have your-”

At that, Colette held out a hand, stopping him gently from continuing. But her smile never faltered.

“There’s something I wanted to give you… That’s one reason why I came here. If you don’t mind?”

Lloyd shook his head, and then watched as Colette reached into her satchel, unlatching the front to pull something from within. Something dark and studded with jewels like stars, like scales deep underwater, catching the sunlight.

He already felt it against his palms as Colette handed the coat to him.

“I still have yours. I was wondering if you would like mine as well?” And she giggled as she asked, his necklace glinting against her blouse, the chain still never having rusted.

#tales of symphonia #colloyd #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloydweek2021 #fanfiction #one shot

9 notes · View notes

alinaastarkov · 5 years ago

Note

Are there any specific Jonrya Quotes that doesn't mean sibling love? If so which ones?

Yes! Loads! Thanks for this ask.

She [Ygritte] is no older than I am. Something about her made him think of Arya, though they looked nothing at all alike. "Will you yield?" he asked, giving the dirk a half turn. And if she doesn't? - Jon VI ACOK

I don’t know about you guys, but it’s not often I’m romantically attracted to someone who immediately reminds me of my sibling. But hey, maybe that’s just me.

Ygritte watched and said nothing. She was older than he'd thought at first, Jon realized; maybe as old as twenty, but short for her age, bandy-legged, with a round face, small hands, and a pug nose. Her shaggy mop of red hair stuck out in all directions. She looked plump as she crouched there, but most of that was layers of fur and wool and leather. Underneath all that she could be as skinny as Arya. - Jon VI ACOK

Once again, I tend not to imagine my (future) romantic partner’s naked body and think of my sibling. I’m starting to sense a pattern 🤔

"NO!" Arya and Gendry both said, at the exact same instant. Hot Pie quailed a little. Arya gave Gendry a sideways look. He said it with me, like Jon used to do, back in Winterfell. She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers. - Arya I ASOS

Even Arya is comparing her (future potential) love interest to Jon. It’s an epidemic!

She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier. It was hard to tell how plump or thin Ygritte might be, with all the furs and skins she wore. - Jon II ASOS

Yet another instance of Jon thinking of Ygritte’s body beneath her clothes and thinking of Arya. Hmm, suspicious 👀

"If you kill a man, and never mean t', he's just as dead," Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? - Jon III ASOS

Kind of strange to question his relationship to Arya, especially after all of those inappropriate thoughts regarding Ygritte. And to question only Arya? Seems like someone really wishes they weren’t blood related so it wouldn’t feel wrong to think of her that way...

"It wasn't Longspear, then?" Jon was relieved. He liked Longspear, with his homely face and friendly ways. She punched him. "That's vile. Would you bed your sister?" "Longspear's not your brother." - Jon III ASOS

Real smooth, Jon. Real smooth. Notice how he totally dodges the question? How we never get an answer on if he would bed his sister? Perhaps because the answer is yes?? Notice how this sounds a lot like it might tie in to “their passion will continue to torment them until the secret of Jon’s parentage is revealed in the last book”? Very suspicious.

"He's with the Night's Watch on the Wall." Maybe I should go to the Wall instead of Riverrun. Jon wouldn't care who I killed or whether I brushed my hair . . . "Jon looks like me, even though he's bastard-born. He used to muss my hair and call me 'little sister.'" Arya missed Jon most of all. Just saying his name made her sad. - Arya VIII ASOS

“I know where we could go," Arya said. She still had one brother left. Jon will want me, even if no one else does. He'll call me "little sister" and muss my hair. - Arya XII ASOS

Maybe not explicitly romantic per se, but it is telling that she genuinely believes her own mother and brother would not want her for superficial reasons and because of the people she killed in self-defense, but her belief in Jon doesn’t waver for a single second.

Jon has a mother. Wylla, her name is Wylla. She would need to remember so she could tell him, the next time she saw him. She wondered if he would still call her "little sister." I'm not so little anymore. He'd have to call me something else. - Arya VIII ASOS

Arya’s questioning her relationship with him too?! To distance herself from him and subconsciously make it easier to deal with romantic feelings in the future?! Will it ever end?!

"It's just a sword," she said, aloud this time . . . . . . but it wasn't. Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile. He used to mess my hair and call me "little sister," she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. - Arya II AFFC

This is so sweet and the specificity of his smile over the more general descriptions of the rest of her family mark it out as different in some way.

She had never cared if she was pretty, even when she was stupid Arya Stark. Only her father had ever called her that. Him, and Jon Snow, sometimes. Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. To her sister and sister's friends and all the rest, she had just been Arya Horseface. But they were all dead now, even Arya, everyone but her half-brother, Jon. Some nights she heard talk of him, in the taverns and brothels of the Ragman's Harbor. The Black Bastard of the Wall, one man had called him. Even Jon would never know Blind Beth, I bet. That made her sad. - The Blind Girl ADWD

Arya loves Jon so much she wishes he could meet her alter-egos too. Ugh, the romantic angst is too much.

"He's to marry Arya Stark. My little sister." Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton's bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she'll fight him. "Your sister," Iron Emmett said, "how old is …" By now she'd be eleven, Jon thought. Still a child. "I have no sister. Only brothers. Only you." Lady Catelyn would have rejoiced to hear those words, he knew. That did not make them easier to say. His fingers closed around the parchment. Would that they could crush Ramsay Bolton's throat as easily. - Jon VI ADWD

Once again, Jon thinks of Arya in a way that a brother really shouldn’t think of a sister. Funny how he specifically says “Ramsay Bolton’s bed”, and not just any man’s bed? Maybe because he can imagine her in someone’s (his)? Either way, weird thing to think about, Jon. And a very violent reaction to your sister’s marriage. Way more than his reaction to another sister’s marriage. Definitely intense feeling that goes beyond sibling bond.

"I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?" "Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly …" - Jon VI ADWD

Need I say more?

Jon felt fifteen years old again. Little sister. - Jon IX ADWD

This is not so big in terms of non-sibling feelings but it is a very intense reaction and also I love Jon being such an emo little shit here cause... Jon, bby, you’re sixteen. Calm down.

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled. "Winter's lady." Jon squeezed her hand. - Jon X ADWD

This is such a romanticised scene and the fact that it mentions Arya at the same time, and Jon’s intense feeling again, gives me pause and made me put it on this list.

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl. - Jon XI ADWD

Again, veeeerrry intense feelings, the mention of her wedding night again, and the fact that he once more questions his relationship with her. It’s too repetitive and obvious not to mean something.

You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … "I think we had best change the plan," Jon Snow said. - Jon XIII ADWD

So, Jon thinks of his former lover and Arya right after, repeats the phrase “I want my bride back” specifically in reference to Arya, and imo “bride” is not what you call someone you have only platonic/ familial feelings for. That would be very weird. Then he abandons all his vows, something he had the opportunity to do and didn’t at least 3 separate times, for and only for Arya, and if that ain’t just the most romantic shit you ever heard. And then of course he literally dies with her as his last thought. Romantic. As. Fuck!

There is more than this, but you asked for things that don’t also mean sibling love, so here you go! 🤗

#asoiaf #jonrya #jon snow #arya stark #jon x arya #jonarya #my meta #sort of #shut up neve #Anonymous #neve has mail

105 notes · View notes

struwwelzeter · 4 years ago

Note

Because i miss your design themed rants (it is good word here) i would like you to rank Rammstein album covers from designers point of view.

Ah, I love you. This got VERY ranty.

This is kinda hard because I tend to judge the entire packagaing/notes, and when I count that into it the ranking would be ever so slightly different. I’ll mention it for each I have Opinions (TM) on, but yeah, this is solely going on cover. I’ll only do the studio albums, not made in germany or the DVDs, or this will get too big.

7th: Rosenrot.

I know lots of you are gonna hate me for this. It’s not that I don’t like it, I do, it’s beautiful. Unfortunately it’s ... slightly lazy. It’s I think their most obvious cover and obvious feels like it’s good design but never truly is. It’s got that first idea feel, if that makes any sense. There is always that project where you go “uh can’t think of anything, but this works.” It’s not a bad thing, they clearly still knew what they were doing. It’s just ... that typical photoshop post apocalyptic composit that lost of metal/alternative bands did at some point. They all did it because it’s cool. No argument there. It’s just that I expect a bit ... more.

6th: Herzeleid

I know it’s iconic, but. The execution?! Terrible. The colours of their skin and that flower?! Too different to feel monochromatic, to same same to contrast nicely. Too much texture. What is that?! The positive bit is the placement of the typography because, neat! Most people fail at that. I like the blue-grey there aswell, how about you’d added that to their skin a little? No? Ok.

Also, this (Richard speaking):

“The bloody sleeve! What a crazy situation that was. We approved the photos in a car park without thinking what we were letting ourselves in for. When we saw what the designer had done, we freaked! We looked so… gay! All of us stripped to the waist. It was like an ad for a gay porno film. So we had to say, sort it out. Make us look straight again. Change the sleeve.”

Who in the fuck works like this?! Nevermind, I know it was a considerably younger Dirk Rudolph, but fucking hell, have some self respect, all of you. I know they didn’t know what they were doing, they probably had the management/record company comission it, and that was still the time graphic designers were seen as just pixel pushers from that time it took 3 days to layout a poster. Still. What was that brief?! Could you have sat down for 20 minutes and talk, perhaps?! Also, I hope this is how Richie learned to be the nightmare client I know he is. Don’t approve layouts in a car park, what the fuck is wrong with you.

It’s a pity because the concept? Nice. Sculpted men infront of flowers, what else do you want from life. Why crysanthemes, tho? Too textured in that macro shot. What is that photo angle?! Might try and redo that if I ever feel like it.

5th: Reise, Reise

This breaks my heart a little, because it’s my lonely island album. And it isn’t bad by any stretch. Actually, their album cover game is ridiculous, can I have that established as a general benchmark? It would make for a lot less mental break downs. The thing is ... I like the idea. Make it look like the black box, cool. The problem is the type. It makes it look like “Flugrekorder Nicht Öffnen” is the album title. To be fair, Typesetting is my main thing, and album artists get it wrong (imo) 99 out of 100 times. I wish they would have comitted more and just left the titel off and solved it with a slide in, or a sticker or something like that. It’s just a bit ... weird. What works brilliantly is that it’s very memorable, stands out on the shelf, is unusual, all of that. It’s iconic. I do like it very much but I had to place something here.

4th: Liebe ist für alle da

Now the thing with that album is that it has two covers. If I’d gone by the original one, I’d have to place it behind Reise, Reise. Everything RR has in impact, this is missing. It’s too dark, has too many pieces, it won’t stand out on a shelf. Especially not in the CD age when it was on 12x12 cm. Even on a Vinyl, it’s ... just not that impactful. Sure, the photograph is beautiful but meh. Luckily there is a second option. And that - is almost like a logo. It works as a symbol, and that makes it so strong. Less is more. Brilliant. You can draw it from memory. It’s so iconic, the kind of stuff that starts showing up in subways, drawn on the back of a seat and sprayed on walls. Tell me you never wanted to paint that on a flag and take it to a pride parade. I am sure some of us have.

I do want to mention the booklet in this, because it does bump it up a little too, because where the panorama image fails as a cover, the inside is done so beautifully with the fold out, the type setting, everything. It’s special, and done with love and it shows.

3rd: Mutter

There is just something about this that is so, so, so memorable. Everyone recognises this. If you ask anyone over the age of 20 to describe Rammstein with an album cover only to someone less familiar, is anyone gonna say anything but “they’re the band with the embryo in close up”?! Maybe this is subjective because that’s how I first got exposed to them, but I don’t think so. It’s such a powerful image. It’s both beautiful and uncomfortable, the way Rammstein as a whole and that album in particular is beautiful and uncomfortable. It’s stunning. That’s it. Unfortunately, this one falls apart inside. The went too far with the whole Matrix inspired cyber elements. It’s trendy and trendy never stands the test of time, in that it has the same problem Rosenrot has, but much worse because it’s not even done that well. They could have just used the photos and kept it raw. The type setting on the cover is as good as it gets with albums tho, so I am happy.

2nd: Sehnsucht

Ah, Sehnsucht. The most perfect band shoot they ever had. Helnwein just ... did it. I don’t know, it both defined and summed up who they are aesthetically for the longest time. It’s the visual statement that says “this is Rammstein”. It ... just looks like a band that sings about heartbreak and necrophilia is supposed to look like. Don’t you agree? How else would it look like? Even that omniously coloured beach. It’s as if the predicted the mood of True Detective, only less Hollywood. That darkness we don’t want to see, that can happen anywhere. And where they fell short with Mutter, where they added too much on to these powerful images, they just added the type. Granted, it was the 90s so it’s slightly experimental type. But unlike most type in the 90s it stood the test of time. Add the whole variable cover versions and chefs kiss! Beautiful work. Makes me happy and emotional and ugh.

1st: The White Album

I’m just calling it that now. The Matchstick. You know, good design is made up from three components only: Concept. Commitment. Execution. The concept of this is so streamlined and clean. It’s the entire Rammstein story narrowed down to a single little thing. It’s small and ordinary looking but it can become dangerous and big. It’s underestimated. A little piece of wood with a head of phosphor and calium chlorit and yet you can commit the most legendary arson. It’s the personification of the thing that has become synonymous with them: Fire. It says so much with so little. And then they comitted to that. No useless typography, a simple but oh so well done photoshoot, the simple text on white. They didn’t ad too much additional ideas on to it, they trusted that one to carry and it does. They could have done without the black and white match stick arrangements inside, although I’m not even sure if that’s not just a limited edition thing, it’s a bit too much almost. They got scared a little there. The execution is also well done, I have very little to critique, only that I feel it lacks a tiny bit of love. The thing is, the more minimalist you go, the more love you have to put into each element. I feel like the spacing of the type should have been fixed in a few places but honestly that is being very very picky. Or not. Because if it wasn’t for that, and the teeeeny tiny commitment issue, this should have been a candidate for the packaging grammy. I mean it should be even the way it is, but we all know how those fuckers ignore our boys.

I’m done. Can I use this as application? Do you think if I send them a run down of basically tearing them apart they will hire me?

#my version of i will be a rockstar is i will win the packaging grammy #just you watch me #it’s roughly 35 years until the end if my career and just you watch me #rammstein #album cover #graphic design #i need a ramble tag #rammstein asks

61 notes · View notes

bladekindeyewear · 4 years ago

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-12-25

I’m not going to spend time BLOGGING an upd8 on Christmas morning!

...yes I am who the fuck am I kidding. (Bonus stuff and Hiveswap are still well on hold though.)

So are we gonna follow up on the main ship? Probably not, right, with that perfect Karkat point to cut away, right? We’re just going to leave Roxy’s question hanging, as well as makeouts etiquette, and leave while having seen a COUPLE FRAMES of non-possessed canon Jade with only whatever fun fanart was inspired across the internet by the moment to tide us over????

Yeah, probably.

Ugh, more Dirk. I guess it’s overdue. :(

> CHAPTER 16. Welcome to my Secret Lair

Oh huh, I guess not? So... Jane’s, or Rose and Kanaya’s?

Karkat stays for longer than John thought he would. They talk a bit, but mostly they are quiet. Eventually, Karkat gets called away on yet more important war business, leaving John with one final touch on the shoulder. John leans into it in response, though he’s a bit ashamed of chasing down a sliver of physical affection so soon after obliterating Karkat’s evening like he had.

Pretty much, yeah. Can’t blame either of them.

When Karkat is finally gone, John still doesn’t move. It isn’t as though he has nowhere else to go, since there are quite a few places he might attempt to make himself useful, for better or for worse.

You’re still abandoning the task that was explicitly yours to protect your literal kid and his friends, but, oh well. Low-point. Dave dead, house dead, broke news, I get it.

He just doesn’t feel ready for that yet. The remnants of his house are still smoldering, and he can’t stop staring at them. It would make sense, he thinks, to want to root around through the rubble for anything that’s still intact; some half-charred keepsake to claim as the last thing left that’s still his. But he doesn’t want to do it, and he doesn’t want to think about it. And he still can’t move.

Can’t move. No Breath huh? What’s going to get him to, then?

> (==>)

Oh boy, that might help. XD She’s pretty good at that.

> (==>)

Still with the waistline gap. And was his phone always yellow like his God-Tier shoes?

ROXY: hey john can u do me a quick solid ROXY: actly idk how quick itll be but its definitely solid ROXY: harry anderson says i just missed u being here but could u skip back on over?

Nice, huh! No judgment, just a hey-any-chance-you-could-swing-back. He sort of needs to be needed right now, in a simple, almost everyday non-judgmental way I guess. (That’s what he NEEDED anyway-- whether he deserved it though is up for debate.)

ROXY: i need help w/smth and yr darling boy is holed up in his room working on some fuckin craft project or other and cant be bothered

YES SEW JOHN A BETTER FITTING FUCKING OUTFIT

ROXY: and now that me and u are freshly on speakin terms again i might as well take advantage of that olive branch and put u to work ROXY: assumin you havent died in an air raid, that is ROXY: which id also be interested in knowin about so if u wld be so kind as to reply instead of leavin me hangin

Heheheh. Gosh Roxy is always the best.

JOHN: yea yea sorry im here. JOHN: i just had a hard time getting my phone out of these fucking tiny pants.

Hah.

JOHN: and also my house is bombed out so i'm kinda grappling with that. JOHN: but i honestly am not sure how much longer i need to sit around staring at it. trying to align my memories of my youth with whatever is happening right now so JOHN: short version is no i’m not dead, and yeah i can come back over there and help you out. ROXY: oh sweet yr alive and down to do manual labor its a win/win JOHN: see you soon.

Yep! Pulled away from all the metaphorical, ultra-meaningful bullshit, back to some brass tacks with some easy humor. Definitely something Roxy can do well.~

> (==>)

EXCUSE ME. What is that outfit and pose. Did you--

ROXY: sup ROXY: follow me ROXY: well were just going to my room so i guess technically u know the way JOHN: haha ok.

Did you invite him over for the manual labor of banging you while your son is sewing in the other room

Or maybe the labor is making him a new sibling. JFC

Is this plan part of why we got the sudden content warning that was mocked or was that mainly for Hiveswap

John follows, trying to shake the ominous feeling he got from what she’d just said. He’d been in and out of this house a lot in the past few days. Why should this be any different?

I DUNNO JOHN DOES THIS SEEM DIFFERENT TO YOU

> (==>)

Yea this seems like a fucc room.

JOHN: it’s not like i could forget! ROXY: ya i guess u only really saw the living room when you were here the other day but i have changed some stuff up ROXY: done a lil redecoratin here n there

So it’s MORE of a fucc room than previously >__>”

ROXY: may have to do a smidge more if my old bff decides im next on the list for bombing out ROXY: but so far so good

Ah geez.

ROXY: just a coupla exploded cars in the yard from some shenanigans our dear son and his friends were in but u kno it is what it is!!!

Well, that’ll buff out easy.

ROXY: can i get u anything? ROXY: just made some coffee JOHN: no, uh, i’m good.

Of course she has a fancy handled winecoffeeglass (and the handle does look ridiculous but it’d be too hot to hold otherwise)

Roxy shrugs and swirls her own coffee around in her novelty mug. John looks around. A lot about the room is the same. The family photos, the rug. There’s a lot more cat stuff in there now, though. The bed is new. John feels like he’s about to take a test he hasn’t studied for. He makes himself focus on what she’s saying.

That would be the feeling.

> (==>)

MY GOD. Roxy is so fucking good at this holy shit

She KNOWS she’s making him squirm and she loves it

JOHN: so uh anyway. JOHN: what was this favor? ROXY: yo why dont u just come rest yr tush for a bit ROXY: take a lil relax next 2 me here JOHN: haha uh. JOHN: roxy i uh. JOHN: im flattered, but i don’t know if that’s really the right step right now. JOHN: don’t get me wrong, everything seems so fucked up right now that when i try to think about what might actually BE the right step, it feels like a huge cartoon question mark might physically manifest over my head. JOHN: but I’m not sure if um rekindling our physical relationship is really the best--

So is Roxy trolling him, about to reveal she wasn’t thinking of sex and was just making things seem sultry? Or just had “lol jk” as an option-select, maybe.

> (==>)

ROXY: r u kiddin me rn egbert JOHN: i’m not? unless you were, in which case yeah lets say i was also kidding. JOHN: oh my god, i’m sorry, i don’t know why this making me freak out.

OH NOOO NOT THE DISDAAAAIN - CRITICAL HIT D:

ROXY: i remember our past boot knockin with fondness but that is a situation im not interested in revisiting

boot knockin XD

ROXY: look john ROXY: i was trying to be polite about it ROXY: offering u sustenance n rest n all ROXY: but you look like shit ROXY: i just wanted to catch up on the whole heinous war situation were in and maybe check in on e/o before leaping strait to the real n actual nonsexual manual labor favor i have in mind for u JOHN: oh.

Hey, she can’t help looking sexy she’s too good at it.

Is the manual labor moving the crashed cars? Can’t Roxy pull that off on her own, or... banish the cars to the void or something? (Oh, but WOULD she want to do it on her own when she can rope in John and bring him down to earth by giving him a useful task? And admittedly his strength and wallet would make things easier.)

John feels his shoulders unbunch. Of course. Yeah. He’s almost embarrassed by how relieved he feels. So what if his ex wife wanted to hook up? Shouldn’t that be a situation he could navigate? Don’t people like to find solace in human physical connection during dire times? Why did the idea of it make his mind white out in panic more than, say, any number of the traumas he just experienced?

Probably some gender stuff mixed up in there too, June.

He doesn’t know, but he believes Roxy that he must look pretty haggard. He probably feels haggard? Maybe sitting down will feel better.

Just put your feet up yeah

> (==>)

WHAT A CUTE IMAGE

JOHN: sorry. like i said, my "how to react to stuff" meter is completely fucked right now. ROXY: thats fair bud

she’s used to being patient with you don’t worry otherwise you never would’ve gotten this far

ROXY: real fast i do need to do a quick takeback of all that shit i said last time we talked about janey not being literally the most evil person we knew or whatever ROXY: i guess i was hopped up on arguin or somethin since that was before we hit our conversational vibe bc of course u were right and i shoulda listened

Ouch. Yeah, we saw just lately just how far off the deep end she was. (Where was that funny upd8 reaction art summarizing the bit where Kanaya was holding Tavros hostage and Jane was transparently debating “hmm do I let my son die?” and Kanaya and Tavros were just looking at each-other flat-mouthed nervous? I REALLY wanted to share that but I don’t usually want to reblog or put most stuff HS^2 not under a read-more, for spoiler purposes, usually.)

ROXY: im just glad ur ok ROXY: or like alive JOHN: yeah, jury's still out on "ok" but, you know. ROXY: ya ROXY: u said ur house is gone?? JOHN: yep. JOHN: completely. ROXY: jeez ROXY: i would ask how ur feelin but like the answer 2 that has got 2b "prtty bad"

Talk it ouuuut~~ get those feels out there and articulated john

JOHN: yeah. JOHN: i mean. JOHN: no? JOHN: it’s weird. JOHN: it feels like it should be a bigger deal, I guess? JOHN: like it’s my HOUSE. JOHN: but mostly it always felt like my dad’s house? JOHN: and when i started living there after i moved out of here, it was like i crammed myself back into whatever was left of my kid self? JOHN: and it didn’t feel good, but it at least was familiar, you know? JOHN: like living there let me feel closer to my dad, trying to be like the way i remember him, or like how i remember him wanting me to be, or something? JOHN: and i didn’t realize how much i hated doing that until i saw it all go up in flames. JOHN: so i guess i could have used my powers to stop the fire and save whatever was left of the place, but i couldn’t bring myself to do it. JOHN: like some fucked up part of me was glad i got there too late? JOHN: so i just sat there, watching, trying to figure out why watching my house burn down felt like i was being released from prison. JOHN: and even now i keep trying to explain it away, as though it’s because of how fucked up everything else is that it made me feel good. JOHN: but that’s just bullshit. JOHN: it DID feel good. JOHN: i DO feel free. JOHN: sorry.

I was kind of saying some Breath/Blood stuff at the time of him losing his last tie to his stubborn sticking-to-his-kid-self bit? Except now we’re mixing it in with June Egbert and his gender-identity questions too.

ROXY: no need 2 apologize ROXY: we just delved in2 my whole gender thing last time so it seems fine for u to have a turn JOHN: i didn’t say it was a gender thing.

Oh shit

ROXY: well no i just meant like i did some sharing ROXY: like referrin 2 the topic i brought up when we chatted last ROXY: but like now that u mention it ROXY: *meaningful pause* JOHN: … JOHN: i JOHN: ROXY: lol well we can move on 2 the favor part if youd rather ROXY: stick a lil pin in that topic n come back 2 it when u have had sleep

Are you just INCREDIBLY incisive Roxy or have you and John talked about this before?

ROXY: like i said the other day its not like this shits figureoutable in 1 sitting anyways JOHN: yeah... ROXY: sooooooo ROXY: movin on

It’s just fine for Roxy to slow-roll this yeah, if she’s going to pry open that door a little

ROXY: dont be mad but theres a part of the house u didnt know abt the whole time u lived here JOHN: what? ROXY: yea ROXY: i got a secret lair ROXY: for my sciences

OH FUCK YES SCIENCE LAB, of COURSE Roxy would want a cool science lab basement because she always wants a cool science lab basement

ROXY: and i get to it via a transportalizer underneath our bed ROXY: which is 2 heavy 2 move by my lonesome so i just needed to borrow some o your aforementioned powers of wind

Okay no. Wait. What the fuck?

First of all, as funny and MSPaintAdventures-y as furniture being in the way of things is, why would you block it with a bed too heavy to move, but,

Second of all, more importantly, how is a GOD-TIER ROXY not strong enough to lift a heavy bed?!?!?!? Either she’s lying to get John involved in things or this is a gendered cop-out because these characters are superheroes at the TOP of their echeladders, given obnoxiously powerful video-game strength and athletics only to then have ascended into DEITIES. God-Tier Roxy could probably have lifted a bed like that when she was SEVENTEEN! And now she’s an ADULT, out-of-shape or otherwise! If this were a whole CAR I might be willing to handwave it, but just a heavy BED?!? And none of the GUYS are going to have this much trouble lifting a bed like this, are they?? This just feels like following classic cartoony gender tropes in the complete absence of these characters’ super powers, what the fuck, and also Roxy if you didn’t make it Transportalizer-only access you could have given it an entrance you could phase through with your fancy powers to get to. FUCK.

This feels stupid.

ROXY: so if u dont mind woosh away JOHN: uh ok, well... JOHN: a secret science lair, sure, i can deal with that. JOHN: why not! JOHN: it doesn’t work out great when i do the windy thing indoors, though. ROXY: aight then no wind bending just use your mangrit

Roxy flexes, the corner of her mouth pulled up into a familiar grin. John feels his guts, so recently calmed, twist up into knots again. Her eyebrows shoot up and the smile loosens. He must have shown something on his face.

You’re already THIS sensitive about gendertalk?

ROXY: ok or just like push when i push ROXY: we both got sick muscles ROXY: no other adjectives necessary JOHN: yeah ok. ROXY: on 3?

Please, please reinforce the idea that they both have sick strength, because they fucking do and the idea that Roxy actually a hundred percent NEEDED John to do this is BS.

> (==>)

JOHN: holy shit? ROXY: sorry to lop yet another huge scoop onto ur lil brains ice cream revelation sundae JOHN: so wait, if this thing's always been under the bed, how’d you get down here before without me? ROXY: well thats neither here nor there john JOHN: i mean it is kinda. Here. ROXY: fine ok checkmate ROXY: i dont ACTUALLY need ur nerdgrit for this escapade ROXY: like im sorry but i said it ROXY: i mostly just wanted to see you and show u wats down here

THANK FUCKING CHRIST.

If that wasn’t actually just a lie to get him involved I was going to stay SO mad. Of COURSE Roxy can move a fucking BED no matter how heavy it is. OF COURSE.

ROXY: and also uve been ~sent for~ JOHN: ok but like ROXY: john i am inviting u 2 my inner sanctum ROXY: i am literally bringing out the word "sanctum" in case u werent already clued in 2 how cool this is ROXY: so do u wanna go into my secret lair or wat JOHN: yeah!? JOHN: yes? i guess? ROXY: aight good

Yes John of course you want to stop fighting it

ROXY: then as they told me in the hospital before lil h a was born ROXY: just push

eyeroll, but yeah, of course

> (==>)

Oh cool, sprite form version of her loungewear.

> (==>)

Sorry for my compulsion to post every full-frame image of Roxy in this awesome outfi-WERE YOU KEEPING CALLIOPE UNDER YOUR BED THIS WHOLE TIME?!?????

That’s like... almost a fucking metaphor isn’t it???? For the relationship you preferred in the other timeline and possibly THIS one TOO or

ROXY: hey callieee i got him ROXY: o damn john sorry i shoulda also told u callies here weve been hangin out again ROXY: 1 more freak for ur bean

Oh huh, so this isn’t an always thing. And these two can get close in more than one timeline where it would’ve worked out nicely. :)

JOHN: oh it's ok, my bean feels pretty well adjusted to freakage at this point so keep them coming if you like! ROXY: k cool i will JOHN: do i get to know what that big thing under the sheet is? ROXY: hmmmmmm no JOHN: oh ok. JOHN: are you sure? i mean, it seems like a pretty prominent feature of the room. JOHN: space. JOHN: wherever we are. ROXY: and a totally mysterious n COMPLETELY inconspicuous feature it will have to remain for now ROXY: we r kinda in a hurry here fyi ROXY: and by that i mean ROXY: we are in precisely the amount of hurry that means im excused from having to a that specific q rn JOHN: right, sorry. JOHN: i will pay no attention to the object behind the curtain. ROXY: u catch on fast egbert ROXY: anyway theres more cool info coming so just follow me

I don’t have any big theories. Is it just the Hiveswap device or something? If Calliope helped with it it’d help explain the Cherubic theme.

> (==>)

JOHN: so... this is all downstairs? JOHN: it seems like you had a lot of work done. ROXY: well no not x actly ROXY: were in the old meteor JOHN: under the house??? ROXY: ok so ROXY: in hindsight it may have been a bit misleading 2 say like ROXY: "downstairs" ROXY: in reference to a place which is hells of buried underground and may not actually be literally under the house ROXY: but there is no time to explain all that rn john so instead im going to refer u to my adorable little green friend here CALLIOPE: #U_U# ROXY: (hehe) CALLIOPE: *AHEM* CALLIOPE: hi john! CALLIOPE: long time no see. ^u^

Cherubs just really like dark cavelike places full of weird tech don’t they.

> (==>)

THEY’RE SO CUTE

JOHN: oh, uh. hey callie! JOHN: it sure has been a while huh. JOHN: now that i think about it, the last time the three of us hung out like this... CALLIOPE: was when i was aggressively third wheeling yoUr prenUptial coUrtship? CALLIOPE: if yoU dont mind, john, i'd rather not rehash that period of oUr lives. CALLIOPE: it was more than a little painfUl for me. JOHN: oh. JOHN: god, jeez, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to-- CALLIOPE: hee hee john i am only pUlling yoUr leg, don't worry. CALLIOPE: if anything i was personally a little thrilled with how things shook oUt in that respect. CALLIOPE: imagine, if yoU will, a yoUng cherUb raised in solitUde, whose only solace was the convolUted and tUmUltUoUs romantic schemata she projected onto her only friends from another Universe. CALLIOPE: and then fUrther imagine that this yoUng cherUb, throUgh varioUs even *more* convolUted contrivances, ended Up in the company of those selfsafe friends as an eqUal participant in their sphere of social discoUrse! CALLIOPE: it is a joy the like of which yoU possibly cannot fathom. u_u

Reinforcing that things turning out this way was in fact the FANTASY that Calliope was writing over in the Canon timeline. Just, heavily, HEAVILY implied that the Candy timeline is -- or at least originated as -- Calliope’s fanfiction as a Muse of Space, and its competition for audience interest with canon is the essential conflict between alt!Calliope and Dirk (or Dirk and Andrew Hussie).

CALLIOPE: so to pUt it simply, getting to experience sUch emotional drama myself was an impossibly enriching experience. CALLIOPE: possibly a first for my species! CALLIOPE: it's actUally qUite interesting, if yoU ROXY: *nudge* CALLIOPE: oh, right. yes. i'm getting a little carried away, haha. CALLIOPE: argh, i'm sorry, this is not how i planned to begin this vital conversation.

Vital conversation? What sorta truth-bombs are coming?

CALLIOPE: but to sUmmarise, what i was trying to say is: CALLIOPE: don't beat yourself Up aboUt it john. CALLIOPE: besides, hUman divorces are even more fascinating than i had ever imagined, and being able to witness yoUrs in motion was an honoUr. CALLIOPE: so i consider Us aboUt even at this point. JOHN: hahaha!!! JOHN: okay, well that's good to know! CALLIOPE: ^u^

Holy SHIT that was savage! And we’ll NEVER know whether or not she really intended it so savagely, either.~

JOHN: so um... JOHN: i hear that there's this big secret thing you wanna tell me about? CALLIOPE: oh right, yes of course! CALLIOPE: let me jUst say first of all how thrilled i am that yoU're on board. CALLIOPE: i wasn't sUre if yoUr natUral inclinations woUld have preclUded yoUr coming to such a place as this, and yet here yoU are. CALLIOPE: this whole endeavoUr will be *so* mUch easier with yoUr help.

Uh oh.

Hopefully babies aren’t involved.

JOHN: oh! well, shucks. JOHN: not really sure what that means but i'm just glad to be of use somewhere, haha. JOHN: which, speaking of somewhere, CALLIOPE: ah right, right. yoU're probably a little cUrioUs as to where the dickens we are. CALLIOPE: how much do yoU know aboUt black holes? JOHN: um... like, the big space things? CALLIOPE: they aren't always big actUally, and in fact their relative smallness is practically their defining qUality. JOHN: oh. CALLIOPE: bUt okay i think we are on the same page. CALLIOPE: so, what if i told yoU that we are inside of a black hole right now.

Oh dear, we’re getting into the canon/noncanon divide?

JOHN: um... JOHN: like, HERE? JOHN: we just transportalized into a black hole? CALLIOPE: no, i mean, what if oUr whole WORLD was inside a black hole. JOHN: ok.

Yeah, that’s gonna be John’s reaction. “ok.” Pretty much inevitable.

CALLIOPE: earth c, or at least oUr version of it, has, from the moment we crossed the victory threshold, been inside a black hole. JOHN: ok. CALLIOPE: and not just any black hole, bUt the very black hole in which the green sUn Ultimately met its demise, allowing oUr victory in the first instance! JOHN: huh! ROXY: ("huh!") ROXY: (rofl my fucking ao egbert) JOHN: (shhhh!)

And Roxy enjoys his non-reaction reactions as much as we do, hehe.

CALLIOPE: bUt, paradoxically, the critical moment which determined its capture within the black hole happened *after* that point. CALLIOPE: i refer of coUrse to yoUr decision not to retUrn to the mediUm and fight my brother. JOHN: wait, wait. JOHN: you mean, the meat and candy thing? JOHN: oh my god. JOHN: you mean i actually DID make a mistake that day. CALLIOPE: well, that's not exactly what that-- JOHN: ugh, i fucking KNEW it! JOHN: i'm so sorry. JOHN: i'm so sorry that i put the earth inside a black hole everyone. ): ROXY: john ROXY: listen ROXY: u have got to get out of this mindset i am begging you JOHN: ):

Yeah shake him out of this shit.

ROXY: your choice literally didnt matter ROXY: the whole thing was symbolic in the first place ROXY: literally symbolic in the case of the picnic i mean come on ROXY: it was just some steak and a plate of candy suckers JOHN: oh. CALLIOPE: i mean, i wouldn't go so far as to say that the meal we shared was unimportant, given the sacred significance of the two options i presented. CALLIOPE: but yes, yoUr choice of snack was infinitely less important than the choice which it presaged. CALLIOPE: and even then, calling it a choice woUld be sorely misleading. CALLIOPE: think of it like a coin flip. CALLIOPE: the series of events that led to Us being trapped beyond the event horizon of an Ubermassive black hole could be considered "tails", while the events which would have occUrred otherwise could be considered "heads". CALLIOPE: since both were possible, and paradox space is the way it is, they actUally both happened. and we jUst "happened" (hee hee) to get tails instead of heads. JOHN: you mean we ended up with the bad possibility. CALLIOPE: not at all! since both possibilities depend on one another's existence, it really doesn't make sense to call them "right" or "wrong". they both just "are". JOHN: o...kay... CALLIOPE: u_u

Yeah, it’s going to take a bit more than that to convince him he didn’t make the “wrong decision”.

CALLIOPE: i realise that this may be a lot to process. CALLIOPE: it's easy to forget that this wasn't obvioUs to everyone from the beginning. CALLIOPE: anyway, the reason i went on this tangent in the first place was to explain that the space we are standing in right now has a special significance, in that it is the location which corresponds to the black hole's singUlarity. JOHN: oh, wow. JOHN: um. JOHN: ok so, sorry if this is a dumb question to ask suddenly, but what does being inside of a black hole actually... mean for us? JOHN: is that bad? JOHN: is it like in movie, um, JOHN: shoot. JOHN: roxy what was that matthew mcconaughey movie from your earth that we watched? ROXY: u mean interstellar JOHN: RIGHT. JOHN: the one with the organ. JOHN: man. i cried at that movie so much. ROXY: lol u can say that again ROXY: iirc at least part of y u got so weepy was the fact that u couldnt believe a version of earth existed where ppl got 2 watch more mcconaughey films than you JOHN: listen. JOHN: i simply don't think you all appreciated the gift you were given. CALLIOPE: i don't believe i'm familiar with this particular film ^u^;; ROXY: oh dont worry cal you didnt miss much JOHN: (gasp)

This is all gold

ROXY: but the important point is that no its not really an interstellar type situation here egbert ROXY: ur not gonna enter a weird time vortex and change the trajectory of a little girls life with the power of love JOHN: aw.

Dammit, now we have to be on the lookout for that possibility. Or it did sort of already happen more than once to John. ...Whatever.

CALLIOPE: to go back to your original question, john. CALLIOPE: it's not strictly speaking "bad" for Us to be inside of a black hole, mUch thoUgh that contradicts most of what anyone knows about them. CALLIOPE: of coUrse, if we had fallen into it, that woUld be a whole other kettle of fish. CALLIOPE: the tidal forces woUld have stretched Us all into spaghetti and then ripped us apart! CALLIOPE: bUt the natUre of oUr arrival was more akin to simply "being" here, sUddenly. one moment we were not, and the next moment we were, and somehow always had been. CALLIOPE: in everyday, practical terms, being inside of a black hole has very little bearing on Us. CALLIOPE: i mean, the natUre of space and time is a little finicky in here, bUt for the most part it doesn't seem to be anything too oUt of the ordinary. CALLIOPE: bUt beyond that, it means that we are sealed away from the rest of existence. CALLIOPE: oUr sphere of inflUence is limited to the sphere of the black hole's bounding horizon. CALLIOPE: as far as everyone else is concerned, we might as well not even exist! JOHN: is there no way we could let anyone know that we're in here...? CALLIOPE: almost certainly not!

No? So this doesn’t have to do with the divide?

CALLIOPE: there are very few ways for anything to escape the kind of predicament that we are in right now. one of them is to be an all-powerfUl being with control over the very fabric of space, with the energy of two Universes at yoUr disposal. CALLIOPE: in which case, escape woUld become rather trivial, if a little Unscientific. JOHN: ok. i am going to assume that we can't just do that. CALLIOPE: yoU've hit the nail on the head, UnfortUnately. U_U CALLIOPE: the method i described was the one employed by my alternate self, who yoU may recall crashed through the event horizon in the body that once belonged to jade harley. CALLIOPE: she departed through a pUnctUre she created in the black hole's surface shortly after consUming my brother, a deed which provided her with the necessary "oomph", and which was frankly rather breathtaking to watch. =u= CALLIOPE: bUt Upon her departUre, the rift closed for good. as far as i can see, there's simply no way for Us to commUnicate with the world oUtside the black hole.

What the heck? Calliope SAW all this? Is this her Muse powers at work, letting her observe these things, or was she there? And John certainly did NOT see ANY of what Calliope just said happen.

CALLIOPE: i woUld certainly be very sUrprised to find oUt that anyone had managed sUch a thing!

So we’re going to find that out if we haven’t already. Maybe something to do with the way Vrissy just conks out narcoleptically?

JOHN: ...right. JOHN: so... let me just get this straight. JOHN: knowing that we're inside of a black hole... does that actually change anything? JOHN: like, can't we just go on living like normal? CALLIOPE: oh absolUtely not. CALLIOPE: i don't know if yoU've noticed john bUt this world is on the brink of a total cataclysm. JOHN: oh.

Um, what?

CALLIOPE: oUr exclUsion from the overarching coUrse of events which governs all reality means that oUr existence here is liable to dramatic and violent Upheaval. CALLIOPE: to pUt it another way, becaUse nothing in here "matters", we are likely to be sUbjected to things which are a bit bats in the belfry, for no reason other than it's totally insignificant to the wider canon of reality. CALLIOPE: and mUch thoUgh i am personally titillated by some of the conseqUences of this predicament, it is a degrading way for Us to live. u_u JOHN: that's... certainly one way to put it, yeah...

No plot-armor for your entire timeline, I guess, yep. Outside of canon, we can imagine and write about ANYTHING happening to the characters, or just drop their existence entirely, much like a doomed offshoot timeline. It’s a plot stability that depended heavily on the threat of Lord English and being trapped in a story, and without it things are bound to see a BIT chaotic (or “degrading” if you view it as subjected to the whims of fanfic writers, certainly).

CALLIOPE: at first, i believed that this was simply necessary. Us playing tails to oUr coUnterparts' heads, the black to their white, and so forth. CALLIOPE: bUt over the years i have come to the conclUsion that this is simply not kosher. ROXY: its total bs is what it is CALLIOPE: right, yes. CALLIOPE: a steaming pile of bUllshite. CALLIOPE: and so we have decided that something needs to be done aboUt it.

Ah fuck. You’re going to regulate non-canon? “Canonize” it? Is the fact that you eventually succeed at whatever it is you’re trying to do part of why we have the story presented to us in this bifurcated structure?

ROXY: this is finally where u come in jegbert ROXY: we gots quests for yous CALLIOPE: hee hee, yes. CALLIOPE: or *a* quest, to be specific. JOHN: oh boy! ROXY: (this fkin nerd i s2g)

Roxy and Calliope setting him on this quest as a Rogue of Void and a Muse of Space feels fitting.

JOHN: i'm not sure how i can go about freeing us from a hellish space prison, but i'm up for giving it a try i guess? JOHN: i have... literally nothing better to be doing at this point. except for maybe hanging out with harry anderson. ROXY: nice save lol

YEAH WE’RE STILL GLOSSING OVER HOW YOU LEFT HIM UNPROTECTED, JERK

ROXY: but u dont need to worry abt busting us outta space jail tbh ROXY: thats not ur problem to fix JOHN: oh. JOHN: i'm... not sure i follow, then. ROXY: i mean yeah ur gonna obvs facilitate it in a sense ROXY: but only by going and busting the person who can actually help us outta normal earth jail CALLIOPE: we need yoU to free vriska from the clUtches of oUr misgUided friend jane, and bring her here, to the singUlarity. ROXY: weve been calling it the plot point CALLIOPE: yes, the plot point is a key part of oUr plan. CALLIOPE: as far as we have been able to sUrmise, the only remaining method for escaping oUr grim confinement depends on leveraging the UniqUe properties of this location to create an event of sUch catalcysmic proportions that it simply cannot be contained within the black hole any more. CALLIOPE: something SO dramatic, so hyper-relevant, that it becomes ontologically impossible for anyone to ignore it. CALLIOPE: for that, we need an individUal of sUfficient narrative cloUt, so to speak. CALLIOPE: and to liberate her, who better than the embodiment of the aspect of freedom itself? CALLIOPE: ... CALLIOPE: phew. okay, i'm finished. CALLIOPE: CALLIOPE: sorry, that took longer than i expected to go throUgh.

..............................

OOooooh, kay.

Whatever this is, it’s going to be really weird and PROBABLY infuriating and/or shippy, and I’m probably not going to like it. Plus it seems like it’s some sort of inverse belated canonization of some other black-hole-rescue theories I went on about at some point. Although, related to that link, “aspect of freedom” if anyone wasn’t paying attention! That’s a (sorta-)canon mention of the purpose of it!

They’re going to attention-wh-- attention-hog themselves out of the black hole so that they’re “considered canon” too, or close enough. Huh.

ROXY: what r u talking about cals that was great ROXY: i could listen 2 u plotsplain for years CALLIOPE: oh you >u< ROXY: fyi this was why i wanted u to get a move on eggbread ROXY: so callie could have more time 2 infodump ROXY: thats love bitchhhhhh JOHN: hahaha. JOHN: ok, well, i think i understood all that?

Love with who? Callie, John, both?

In reality, John isn’t sure what most of this means. But on balance, it feels okay? He’s gone back and forth about a hundred times in the last week about where his place in everything is, so he might as well ride this out. Plus, the last time a Lalonde kind of told him to do something, he thinks that he chose not to, and look where that got him. And it’s not like he has other plans. He may as well do this! It’s at least going to get him involved in things again, if nothing else. He turns to go, and then hears a sound. It’s the sound of feet and knocking on doors, echoed through stone and digital static.

Oh shit. Is Andrew trapped behind some fourth walls behind the curtains.

> (==>)

Oh RIGHT also that DEVICE is where they want to bring Vriska. Are they going to overturn part of canon itself with a super-retcon thus making this timeline unbelievably relevant or--? Maybe make all the PESTERQUESTS canon or something?! I don’t know. Maybe they’re INTENTIONALLY starting the game like Vriska wanted to??????

Guh, this is something so big that I don’t WANT to theorize about it, do I.

JOHN: did you hear that? ROXY: wha ROXY: oh yeah uh ROXY: i may have messaged rose and kan and jade to check on them too ROXY: so its prob onea them showin up ROXY: they don’t need to know bout all this tho ROXY: we got time to chat with them b4 u go get vriska

No, even if it’s a knock at the somehow-top-level-house-even-under-buried-- oh, right, maybe it’s covering in part a monitoring system that looks up there. But still, part of that sound was DOUBTLESS these two hiding something, all standing in front of the curtain like that.

JOHN: i’ll go stall em. ROXY: thx babe ROXY: oh is it 2 soon for that joke or JOHN: no, weirdly enough, that one’s fine. ROXY: oh good ok see u up there soon!

How is calling your significant other “babe” not cool REGARDLESS of gender?! Like wasn’t that always cool? --Oh wait is it because they’re not together or... but... guh, I don’t know.

Anyway, see y’all after the holidays at least.

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #spoiler #spoilers #Roxy Lalonde #John Egbert #Calliope

17 notes · View notes

casual-eumetazoa · 5 years ago

Text

thanks for the prompt @confused-android ! oof, took me longer to write this than i thought (or actually it took me like an hour but i postponed it till my exams were almost over). first - the word “enthralled”? i vibe with it. second - this kinda turned into a vaguely brotzly piece with some autism acceptance on the side, hope that’s okay. third… hope you like this! so here goes

———————

The Case of the Stolen Flower Basket (as dubbed, unofficially, by Dirk) started out on a more relaxed note than most of their cases: in a flowershop, with a stolen basket. A basket, mind you, that was stolen in broad daylight from a closed room, under mysterious circumstances.

It also started with Dirk ending up in a flowershop, accidentally, while he was trying to find an ice-cream place. And it wasn’t even a case then, as much as Dirk’s brief but intense obsession with closed room mysteries, but I digress.

Point is, a basket was missing, a basket thief was at large, and the holistic crew of the holistic detective agency found themselves in a huge abandoned storing space, following up on a “lead”. Todd, Dirk and Farah walked the damp bleak corridors, opening any block that seemed suspicious. Most of them did, and most contained a truly bizarre collection of items.

One was filled up entirely with broken IKEA furniture. One was stuffed to the brim with an assortment of left shoes. And, perhaps most unsettling, one consisted of nothing but headless dolls of various shapes and sizes, along with some disfigured plush animals.

-What the hell was this place? – Todd wondered, prying open yet another door.

Behind it was an empty space, containing exactly one chair with exactly one empty jar perched on the edge of its seat.

-The warehouse of a profoundly odd collector. – Dirk proclaimed. – He… had an excess of money, and wanted to collect things, but the normal things people collect like stamps or candy wrappers were too boring for him, so he did this instead.

-Found anything important? – Farah’s voice echoed against the crumbling walls.

-Yes! – Dirk yelled back.

-No. – Todd corrected, then turned back to Dirk. – An eccentric collector then huh? – Evidently, he had decided to entertain Dirk’s guess. – What about this one then?

He pointed at the nearest door and immediately proceeded to kick it down. It was meant to be a slight push, but instead the door caved in completely, slipping off its hinges and crashing against the floor with a deafening metal rumble.

-Sorry! – Todd bit his lip.

He saw Dirk wince and then almost shrivel up at the sound, arms pulled suddenly towards his chest, as if trying to protect himself from the noise.

Noises. Dirk did not do well with them. And Todd knew that all too well.

-Sorry. – He repeated. – I didn’t mean to do… that.

-It’s fine. – Dirk mumbled, trying his best to shake off the feeling and get back into investigative mood. – What’s in it then?

They stepped over the dilapidated door and into the tight storage space. Inside it were a few pieces of old furniture, half a dozen sealed boxes, at least a whole heap of sawdust, and…

-Todd! – Dirk really did try to tone down the enthusiasm, but alas. – Look!

First, Todd noticed Dirk’s flapping arms, and the smile on his face, and felt his own lips stretch into a grin. Only then he turned to check what was in there, and realized that the wall of the storage space was lined up with various musical instruments. Guitars, mostly; electric, acoustic, even toy ones…

-It’s your thing! – Dirk beamed.

-Yeah. – Todd agreed. – It’s my thing.

He approached the wall and picked up one of the guitars.

-It’s expensive. – He declared, and checked the instrument for any signs of wear and tear. – And new. Damn. – He went slowly through the collection. – Well, these aren’t the very top of the chain, but they’re fancier than I used to have.

He took one of the electric guitars – a slick, bright red beauty – and held it gently in his hands. He hadn’t played guitar since he bashed his last one against the wall of the Ridgley building… that happened less than a year prior, and yet it seemed a lifetime away.

-Can we take some? – Dirk asked, then, not waiting for a reply, picked out one of the guitars at random. – They’re no-ones so it doesn’t count as stealing.

-I guess I could take one or two. – Todd agreed. – They’re as good as thrown out at this point. No use for them collecting dust in here.

-Where the hell are you two? – Farah’s voice chimed through the corridor.

-Over here! – Dirk shouted back.

-Ugh. – Todd muttered. – I have to pick now. Wait. Actually… - He looked at the guitar he had in his hands, then the one Dirk was still holding, and smiled with the corner of his mouth. – Those two are good. Let’s go.

-Guys. – Farah nearly avoided a collision with the broken door as she entered the storage space. – You should see this. Now. – She paused. – I think I found a skeleton.

The guitars were then stashed in the corner, and waited patiently for their new owner to crawl on all fours into a basement, poke some human bones with a stick, and emerge – dusty, exhausted, and deeply confused.

The evening was slow and peaceful. While Farah was busy making phone calls and trying to arrange for someone to examine, discretely and unofficially, a mysterious unidentified skeleton, Todd and Dirk stayed in Todd’s apartment. Or, rather, at the apartment that used to be Todd’s. He didn’t remember the last time he had a dinner there, and besides, Dirk spent more nights than not in the guest bedroom, so it was really their apartment.

-Do you have any ideas about how the basket connects to the skeleton yet? – Todd asked, placing two cups of tea on the table.

He didn’t have to ask Dirk what he wanted; he knew his (rather narrow) range of food and drink preferences by heart.

-Not a clue. – Dirk admitted, and raised his gaze to the ceiling, staring attentively at some smudge. – I think we should go to Claire’s house.

-Why the owner’s house? – Todd asked.

-Feels relevant. – Dirk shrugged, eyes still focused on the smudge. – Oh. – He turned in his seat suddenly. – The guitars! Can you play for me?

Todd sighed. He anticipated this happening.

-Well, - he said, - I can’t play the electric one cause you need equipment for it and we didn’t steal any, and I haven’t played an acoustic guitar in like two years, but…

-I don’t care if it’s not your best or some equally stupid excuse. – Dirk interrupted him. – You know I’ll be impressed no matter what.

Todd laughed shortly, and nodded. It was true – Dirk was impressed and excited by seemingly everything, from the fluffy blanket assortment at Walmart (he had to touch every. single. one.) to the Sacred Wisdom shared with him by Todd that the number on the package of pasta tells you how long it will take to cook it. Dirk was also somehow oblivious to his own talents, insisting that connecting eleven entirely unrelated pieces of information into a complete narrative was “simple” and “obvious”.

-Fine. – Todd caved in, and got up to fetch the acoustic guitar. – But I probably won’t know the cords of the songs you like.

Considering that Dirk mostly listened to obscure European rock music, 80s pop, and Disney soundtracks, it was hardly surprising.

-Not tuned at all, probably. – Todd, the guitar now in hands, returned to his seat and gave the strings a test stroke. – Yep. – He nodded. – Gimme a few minutes.

He tuned the guitar as best as he could, and tapped his fingers on the table, trying to decide what to play. Dirk had watched him with curiosity and was now sipping his tea, waiting for the music to start. Todd paused, took a deep breath in, and began to play the first song that he was sure he remembered – “Behind Blue Eyes”.

The music flowed; Todd focused on the movement of his fingers, on the vibration of the string, and the metal at his fingertips. He sang the words softly, almost as an afterthought. He had forgotten how good it felt to make music happen. The song was in the air, brought to life by the motion of his hands, and the night was young, and he was lost in the moment. He skipped the electric guitar solo and went straight to the final reprise of the chorus.

Then the music stopped, and silence fell on his shoulders. He kept quiet, not saying anything, waiting for Dirk to react. That is when Todd realized that Dirk wasn’t talking – and Dirk was always talking. He talked over movies, and news on the TV, and shop assistants and, on one memorable occasion, over a talking parrot. It’s not that he was rude - it’s just that his head was so full of words, constantly, that they had to be let out.

But Dirk wasn’t talking now. Now he simply sat in his place, eyes transfixed on Todd’s hands, blinking.

-Are you okay? – Todd asked.

There was a pause.

-Mmm? – Dirk blinked faster and looked up, meeting Todd’s gaze, startled slightly, as if waking up from a pleasant dream. – Yes. Yes of course I’m okay.

-You kinda zoned out a little bit.

-I did?

-Yeah.

-You play really good music. – Dirk smiled softly.

-Thanks. – Todd smiled back.

-It’s nice to not be… attacked by sound for a change. – Dirk added. – Can you… keep, playing, please?

-Sure. – Todd replied. -I mean, I don’t remember that many songs, and…

He remembered enough songs for a whole mini-at-home concert.

It doesn’t end there.

Together, they spend many an evening consumed by music, music brought to life by Todd, for Dirk, specifically for Dirk, and for him only. Todd plays everything – every song he has ever loved, acoustic versions of Mexican Funeral pieces, approximate renditions of whatever is on the radio these days…

Dirk makes requests. Todd googles guitar tabs and practices while Dirk is still asleep, in the ungodly early hours of the morning, sitting on the windowsill of the apartment block while people leave for first shifts at work. He has performed in front of huge crowds, and music journalists, and many girls (and guys…) he was trying to impress – but nothing has ever felt as personal, crucial, tender, as playing for Dirk.

The skeleton is identified, and the stolen basket is discovered. The convoluted twists and turns of the story, which involves a near-extinct flower, a 77-year-old Russian spy and an actual African prince, come to their natural close. The excitement and danger are over, if only for a brief respite, and peace is restored. A new case will arrive soon enough… but until then, they have their tiny apartment, and Todd has his guitars, and music lingers in the air, and Dirk is enthralled with the music, still and speechless in his seat.

They look at each other, and they understand each other precisely, and, for once in his life, Dirk has no words, and needs no words, and wants nothing else but to listen. God knows, his life is never safe or simple, but now Todd is here, and the world is really not that bad, and he is happy.

The Earth continues to spin. New bizarre, perplexing and astonishing things will happen. Songs will be played, and words will be said in time. Maybe, in part at least, because someone ran, and never looked back, and left behind all their belongings, even their very expensive guitars…

Sometimes – most of the times – the Universe wants them to help it. But, on this occasion, it is gracious enough to help them in return.

#dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dirk gently #brotzly #autistic!dirk #actuallyautistic #dghda fanfic #paradox nerd post

50 notes · View notes

fanfics-only-for-me · 5 years ago

Text

Call of the Void (Part 1)

Word Count: 1704

This is gonna be hella boring chapter cause I really just wanted to set the scene I’m half done the next chapter so expect that soon. This is my first time actually writing anything so some advice will be great ngl <3

How are the Titans going to handle the reluctant new stray Dick picked up and what exactly is she running from? Rose doesn't exist and Jeremiah is dead. Everything in the show is the same up to when they find Rose on the telly. Imma just swap her with y/n cause I'm a narcissist. Y/N is 18 nearly 19. Don't @ me cause i know this is hella shite. Readers bi but I’m not certain if she’s gonna be romantically involved with anyone yet.

Coffee Drops

Dick's been trying to get Rachel to come out of her shell for the past few months. Knowing about Rachel's struggle fitting in with her peers at school and the recent events surrounding her family, both biological and adopted, Dick deemed a routine would be best. It would be a way for Rachel to feel at ease, and comfortable. When Dick was initially adopted by Bruce back when he was young and struggling with his own family stress so to speak, he found that once he fell into an established pattern of behaviour, his mind would settle too. Thus a routine was swiftly established.

The day would begin with light training as a group and then a small rest, a bit more training and finally breakfast. During this early morning rest period, Garfield would head off to his room and play whatever game he was currently obsessed with. Lately, it was some platform based game, Dick even gave it a go once but never got invested, perhaps he was a bit too old for this sort of stuff, either way, gaming definitely wasn't for him. It wasn't for Rachel either. She tried playing with Garfield one morning but as soon as her character died; she left leaving Garfield and the console alone. Dick didn't like having Rachel alone for too long but he didn't want it to seem obvious and push her away.

God knows what Jason does during his downtime, and judging by what was found on the batcomputer, Dick doesn't want to know.

Thus birthed their new routine: every morning they'd head off to get coffee together, changing shops every couple days due to Dick's paranoia-fueled habits, Rachel is still a missing person after all. Dick began to enjoy these coffee trips with Rachel. He doubted he would ever have kids of his own, especially after Dawn and himself ended. He did enjoy this feeling though; being Rachel's confidant and support, her father-figure so to speak. He felt the same towards Garfield but not as intense as with Rachel.

It was on one of these coffee trips that he noticed something strange. They were at a new coffee shop, the place had a retro yet Cool Kidz vibe to it, filled with guitars, records, and exclusively old looking wooden furniture abundant with those circle stains you only get if your coffee cup leaks a bit.

"Got a triple venti mocha for Rochelle and a small coffee for Dirk"

"Dick"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, uh... never mind." Dick grabbed the two drinks from the counter feeling a fair bit uncomfortable with the barrister's annoyed gaze directed at him.

"Here", Dick said handing the mocha to Rachel.

"Nice." laughed Rachel before heading towards the sugars with Dick following close behind.

"So have you put any thought into our name?" asked Rachel taking a sip of her drink

"What do you mean?"

"Ugh," Rachel grunted placing her drink on the small counter.

"Well, you, Hawk, Dawn, and Donna were the Titans," she reasoned reaching for the sugar jar and tilting the sweet crystals into her drink, "So, what are we? The New Titans? Titans 2.0?"

"Titans: The Next Generation?" Dick jokingly offered.

"You're not helping" dismissed Rachel as she finally placed the sugar back down.

"Look, Rach, it doesn't matter what you're called. It matter's what you do. We're training for whatever's next." he reassured her.

"There's never a shortage of people out there who wanna screw things up for the rest of us." he continued, "You know what they say, 'All it takes for evil to succeed-"

"-is good men and women to do nothing." Rachel interrupted after licking the stir and throwing it in the bin. She's heard the same speech from Dick countless times by now. It seemed as though this little motivational speech of his was more so for himself than anyone else. To convince himself that this wasn't for nothing; he wasn't chasing the shadow of his own past glory, but instead carving a new, brighter path for his current family.

"That's right." said Dick turning to leave, "Good men and women not doing nothing."

"You could put that on a t-shirt, Dick," Rachel muttered following after him.

"Maybe I should," Dick scoffed, reaching the door and holding it open for her.

Dick got caught for a minute in the doorway as a few others took the opportunity to slip through the generously opened door. After a few of those awkward smile things and some "you're welcomes" later, Dick finally got away from the door and headed towards Rachel. The car was a few meters away from the shop's entrance, parked beside a ‘50′ speed limit sign. Once Dick clicked the doors open Rachel immediately plonked herself down in the passenger's side spilling a bit of her mocha on the concrete below. Dick's eyes glanced at the drops splattering on the ground before taking a step towards the driver's side door.

It took a second for his mind to process what his eye's caught, but when it did, Dick looked back down towards the coffee drops. Working as a detective for a number of years, Dick could easily pick out the small puddle of blood on the concrete. Dick ran over last nights news in his head, no shoot-outs or other violence that could explain how it got here. It definitely wasn't old, less than 12 hours judging by the still red pigment yet it wasn't fresh seeing as it wasn't disturbed by the early morning foot traffic meaning it had to of dried before rush hour. It happened last night. Looking around the area for anything that might help explain things, Dick noticed the blood on the signpost next to him. It was quite low down, a few smudges of blood on the pole resting near his knee. Bending down to have a closer look, Dick noticed the small groves; definitely a hand print.

"Dick?" called Rachel, leaning out of the now rolled down window.

"One minute, I'm just checking something."

Dick quickly gave a once over on the ground surrounding him, checking to see if there was some sort of trail hinting towards the injured person's route. 9 am on a weekday: the street was crowded. He could barely see the ground but even so, Dick thought he should at least see something, the start of a trail at least. They probably got into a car Dick concluded straightening up.

'This is a busy enough street with a lot of businesses,' Dick reasoned with himself looking up towards the buildings CCTV cameras, 'a lot of them would have caught something.'

"Dick?" Rachel queried again.

"Coming," Dick said hopping into the car before pulling out onto the street.

"What were you looking at?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know yet, maybe nothing," Dick replied, "Maybe something, I'll double check when we get home."

Rachel rolled her eye's a bit at the "home" part but seemed satisfied nonetheless.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Once they got back to the Tower, Dick and Rachel walked together towards the training room. Rachel was supposed to continue training with the others and Dick needed to pass by the training room to get to the computers.

"Fuck man!" shouted Jason.

They're fighting again.

"You said don't hold back." defended Garfield.

"What were you fucking doing? I was fucking blindfolded" continued Jason.

"You said, 'Don't hold back.'" Garfield quoted rather annoyed as Rachel and Dick came round the corner.

"Should I get the hose?" joked Rachel prancing over towards Gar.

"What's going on?" Dick asked the two.

"We did what you said, the blindfold thing, and then he went nuts on me." complained Jason.

"He said 'Don't hold back.'" Gar quoted for the third time that minute.

"Then why do we even learn to fight like this, man?" Jason complained again.

Dick knew that Jason wasn't settling into the tower like the other two but unlike Garfield and Rachel, Jason was here to train.

Jason didn't like the Titans tower, he thought it would be more intense like with Rachel's father but this assumption was quickly cut down. Training in some way or another every day and never actually going out and using what he learnt only caused his anger to boil with no escape for the steam except through his words. Verbally fighting and arguing at the slightest irritation was his only outlet so he did it every chance he got.

"Hey, it's idiotic." continued Jason heading closer to Dick, "We have eyes."

"In battle, anything can be taken from you." Dick addressed the group stepping forward.

"You're hands," Dick accentuated this by twisting the fake sword from Jason's hand.

"You're feet..," Dick stabbed the training mat between Gar's feet.

"And you're eyes." Dick was now looking down the dull edge of the wooden sword towards Rachel's face.

"No matter what is taken, you must be able to keep fighting." Dick lowered the sword and turned towards the other two, "And win. All right get changed, I'll be busy for a few hours so no attack scenarios this morning. Go have breakfast."

"Yo, look, it's been three months man," Jason said to Dick, "When do I get to go back to Gotham City?"

"Bruce doesn't think you're ready, and neither do I" Dick explained, "Look, man, you blew your privileges."

"What?"

"The Batmobile joyrides, the motorcycle on the staircase." Dick continued.

"I was practising my tactical manoeuvres." Jason tried to reason.

"And those websites you bookmarked? You know that's not what the batcomputer's used for."

The two argued back and forth before Dick tried a different approach.

"Okay, look, here's the thing," Dick began, "I could actually use some help with the others. They don't have the experience you have."

"Yeah. Yeah, for sure."

"Have you notice how they sort of look up to you? Follow your lead?" Dick asked,"When you're on point, they're on point. When you're not?"

"It's true" Jason smirked.

"They need your leadership, Jason... I'm not Robin anymore. You are." Dick patted Jason Shoulder as he began heading off towards the tech room.

"Hey wait," called Jason, "If I'm Robin...Who are you?"

"That's a good question."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

#titans x reader #angst #father figure Dick Grayson cause i lowkey have daddy issues:)#fanfiction #DC #DC x reader #self insert #slow build #call of the void #part 1

40 notes · View notes

fandom-games · 5 years ago

Text

“I don’t hate this,” Todd admits, propping his laptop on the coffee table and leaning back into the couch. He tugs a blanket over his legs and wiggles until comfortable. “It’s quiet, no one is trying to kill us, and I’ve played more guitar in the last month than I have since like, undergrad.”

“I hate this,” Dirk says, leaning over until he’s visible on the screen as well. “I'm bored and we have no cases.”

“But no one is trying to kill us,” Todd reminds him. “That part is good.”

"And you get to listen to the Todd Brotzman play guitar, all the time,” Tina laughs, toasting them through the screen with a can of La Croix.

“The Todd Brotzman,” Dirk echoes her, turning a teasing smile to Todd. Todd wrinkles his nose in dismay, but Dirk bops forward to press a kiss to his cheek, and Todd blushes.

They’ve barely left the apartment in months, and weekly video calls with Tina are one of the highlights at this point. The universe seems to have gotten the picture that running around is a terrible idea, and has responded by putting a complete hold on all cases. All of them. The agency is closed, but Dirk isn’t even accidentally running into baffling situations that only he can solve. No dragons, no wormholes, no taxidermied ducks. He hasn’t even found any lost cats or missing heiresses, which is frankly uncanny.

He’s honestly driving Todd up the wall – Dirk is far too used to dashing around, jumping into danger, and making trouble to adapt easily to living in quarantine – but it does help that he’s found something new to distract him.

“You guys are sickening,” Tina says, as Dirk peppers more kisses onto Todd’s face. Todd raises a hand to shove his face away, and Dirk makes a wounded noise and clutches his smushed nose.

“Ugh, you’re a rotten boyfriend,” he informs Todd, and flounces off the couch to get something from the kitchen and pretends he isn’t still listening to the video call.

“I can’t believe you guys are finally dating,” Tina says. “Like, I kinda assumed you were when we met, and then you weren’t, so I figured there was a reason?”

Todd’s eyebrows snap together. “Like what?”

“I dunno,” she shrugs. “Like, you already dated and gave up, or he was straight, or you’d sworn a life of celibacy, or something.”

“You thought he was straight?” Todd asks, incredulous. “or that – that I swore to be celibate?” He scrubs a hand over his face, half offended and half laughing. “I thought you were a fan, Jesus, Tina.”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Tina says, holding her hands up in defense. “You guys were the one with the whole ‘friends-to-lovers-to-friends’ vibe going on, long term.”

“…I don’t even have a response to that,” Todd says, and twists to call into the kitchen. “Hey, grab me a drink?” He turns back to Tina. “In the spirit of not being able to throw something at you through the computer, I’m just going to switch topics. How’s work this week?”

Tina and Hobbs are doing their best to keep the peace in Bergsberg, but it’s tough enough to stop teenagers from drag racing, let alone to get people to wear their masks while at the farmer’s market. “Bunch'a shits,” Tina mutters. “Joren Stone keeps calling us when someone asks him to wear a mask while shopping, and I had to literally shut down a barbecue yesterday. There were, like, forty people there.”

“Jesus,” Todd grimaces.

“That's awful,” Dirk says, sitting back down and handing Todd a glass of water, gulping from his own. They tend to drink beer (Todd) or wine (Dirk) while hanging out in the evenings, but it feels wrong to drink in front of Tina when she’s just earned her one year chip.

“You’re telling me,” Tina says. “I got into this whole thing for Hobbs, and it’s not really feeling worth it right now.”

“I can imagine,” Dirk says sympathetically. He’s pressed up against Todd’s side, and he’s warm and solid. The AC in the apartment leaves the place freezing, even at the beginning of August – it’s a good excuse to cuddle up, to share blankets, to sleep in overlapping piles of limbs and breath. “Are you still staying on his couch?”

Tina nods and twists away from the screen for a second to show off Hobbs’ living room behind her. “It makes sense – we’re both on shift pretty much non-stop lately, and someone’s gotta watch Mustard.” The cat in question chirps at the sound of her name, and Dirk instantly makes a cooing sound and leans way up close to the laptop.

“Sweetie!” he croons, setting down his glass and wiggling his fingers at the screen. “Oh sweet Mustard girl, come say hello to Uncle Dirk.”

Mustard chirps again, then scrambles up onto Tina’s lap; if Tina’s grimace is any indication, she doesn’t skimp on the claws. Mustard headbutts the laptop screen, to Dirk’s delight, and purrs loudly enough to be heard through the built-in mic.

“Oh my darling,” Dirk says. “You perfect creature, you lovely honey girl, I miss you. You are a perfect, faultless being, and I hope that Tina is treating you like a princess.”

“She’s a barn cat, Gently,” Tina says flatly, and Dirk sniffs.

On Farah’s last trip to Bergsberg, Dirk had tagged along. He’d assumed he’d also be staying at Tina’s apartment, and it took no small amount of explaining to get him to understand that this was a romantic weekend for Farah and Tina, he would not be staying with the two of them, and he was welcome to sleep on Hobbs’ couch. He was soundly adopted by the orange critter, and still refuses to believe that she isn’t a pampered housecat instead of a scraggly mouser with a predilection for sleeping on faces.

Mustard gives one final purr at the screen and hops back off Tina’s lap, leaving a drift of orange fur in her wake. Tina sighs tolerantly.

“Anyway,” Todd says, giving Dirk some serious side-eye. “Cat aside, that super sucks, and I’m sorry things are tough right now. And especially sorry that people are being such idiots, and it’s your problem.”

“Eh.” Tina shrugs. “At least I have a job that lets me out of the house. I think I’d fall back off the wagon if I were stuck at home.”

“I don’t know,” Todd says, nudging Dirk. “It has its perks.”

“No, it’s awful,” Dirk says, and huffs when Todd nudges him again. “Unremittingly terrible.”

“Really?” Todd presses teasingly. “Not one single good thing about being at home with me all of the time?”

“Not a thing,” Dirk says, trying his hardest to keep a disdainful expression on his face.

“So finally admitting that you love me –”

“Excuse me,” Dirk sputters, “but I am pretty sure that you told me first that you love me.”

“Didn’t happen,” Todd says, and almost drops his water when Dirk shoves against him, wriggles a hand under his elbow to poke at his side. “Didn’t happen!” he yells to Tina, trying to squirm away without making a mess. “You said it first! You did!”

“You’re a liar, Todd Brotzman,” Dirk laughs, and it could sting, it could be a prick into the wound of years of guilt, but it’s nothing but fond and loving and light, and Todd feels nothing but good and loved and safe.

~~ So I had no idea what this was from at first, but once I was informed and searched up a bit about it, I really enjoyed this fic! It made me laugh and smile throughout! This fic made me want to check out Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency! 98 points! -Jade

#Team Mix A #Round 1 #Challenge 2 #submission

27 notes · View notes

themockingcrows · 4 years ago

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

18 notes · View notes

kathyorihara · 5 years ago

Text

Finished Venture bros and...

- when I was little and it showed up on my TV I avoided it cuz I thought it would be scary or fucked up. Like the rest of adult swim shows.

-Hank and Dean are babies but dean is on thin ice rn

- I ship Billy and Pete cuz like they married before being married

-Dean with facial hair was a no for me but the emo hair a yes, I blame prince zuko.

-Monarch and his wife are couple goals like 2nd to Morticia and Gomez.

-Brock is their mom and their Dad

-Someone please put subtitles of what H.E.L.P.E.R is saying it helps my mush brain.

-Poly couple of Hench man 21 and the Monarch with his wife if possible I would be okay with.

-Sergeant Hatred um.... on one side he loves the boys like Brock on the other he should be 50ft away from children.

-Rusty and Malcolm being bros possible but unsure about

- Rusty knows he a clone or blocked it out his memory

- Kinda want Triana back to see Dean deal with how things left off

-Give me more Pete White in gothic clothing please

-Hank should search for his mom with Dean after he bitch slaps him and dumps serena.

-Serena in that ep reminded me of hs drama that just ugh someone call her out. (Mrs. Monarch).

- Who the fuck is the bear

- does Dirk know about his sister, and what she did with Hank

- Dr. Orpheus and his friends more eps please

-obvi time travel is gonna happen in a future ep

- I miss when they called their dad dady now it’s pop

-Brock would so take em to get tattoos or piercings

- FUCK Quarantine I WANT NEW EPS OF ALL MY SHOWS

#venture bros #dean venture #hank venture #rusty venture #brock samson #pete white #billy quizboy #dr.orpheus

53 notes · View notes

ask-the-party-god · 5 years ago

Photo

The Birthday - Part 1

DAVE: and its like

DAVE: sure you know whatever fuck it

KARKAT: …

DAVE: im too deep and invested in this fucking story already

DAVE: if attila the hun can be santa i guess she can also be the reincarnation of an alien god with yaoi hands

DAVE: what do i even know

KANAYA: (How Did This Conversation Devolve Into This Again Dear)

ROSE: (I have no idea, but I’ve counted seven tangents from the original conversation topic already, and I’m expecting it all to come back to the start in another four, give or take.)

The Thirteenth of April. An Earth-wide celebrated holiday, the day of Creation, the day the Creators returned and graced the inhabitants of the world they made with their presence, the day they descended to stay, and live among mortals. The day you won the game, and claimed the Ultimate Reward, as rulers of a new reality.

To be completely honest, you never really jelled with the grandiose vibe of this holiday.

ROXY: and she was like, ‘ur an outlaw of gender’ and im like oh my fuckin god thats the BEST thing anyone has ever done w/ my title <3 im savin that one

DIRK: Fitting, for sure.

DIRK: I recall a similar experience in the past with my own Mythological Role.

CALLIOPE: i believe that was a conversation we had, in fact! ^u^

DIRK: Yeah. Prince of Heart, Destroyer of Souls. That was a rather enlightening talk. You can probably twist these nonsense names to mean whatever badass or stupid thing you want them to.

JAKE: Well you sure make it sound easier than it actually is! Why *page* and *hope* are already kind of a doozy on their own let alone twisting their meaning in a humorous or intriguing way.

ROXY: aw jakey im sure we can work w/ that

ROXY: specially given the uh page duds

ROXY: like ur the sexy robin of glowy bullshit

DIRK: Oh my god.

ROXY: a saucy and sparkly peter pan

JAKE: Hmm…

ROXY: THE HIMBO OF ASS fuckin got it B)

CALLIOPE: roxy please i’m trying to politely hold my laUghter, bUt yoU’re making it very difficult!

JAKE: Theres that word again! Jasprose has been calling me that but despite knowing my fair share of obscure slang

ROXY: (lmao)

JAKE: I havent been privy to this ones meaning yet!

ROXY: not so fun bein on the receivin end of weird-ass words huh jake

JAKE: So…

JAKE: What DO you mean im a himbo exactly?

DIRK: …

Your name is Jade Harley, and to be honest, you don’t really care about the Day of Creation. But then again, you’re also privileged enough to BE one of the Creators. No, the Thirteenth of April is a much more private and personal day for you and your group of friends. The birthday of Jane Crocker, your ectobiological progenitor, but most importantly, at least in your eyes, the birthday of John Egbert.

God, you love your ecto-sibling so much.

Over a decade ago, back on your island, you fantasized about the things you would show to your friends once you entered the Game, the fated Session you’d seen in your dreams, night after night. John, out of all of them, was always the closest to you, asleep just a short trip over from your own tower, having awful nightmares. Haunted by that which was yet to come. You tried to help him wake up for years.

And then, when he finally did, your Dreamself was gone.

Barely any time to have fun, barely any fun to be had in the first place. And once the Scratch erased everything, and you brought the Session along with you, it felt as thought those dreams may become a reality, that you would, at long last, have one of your closest friends in the whole wide world there, able to hang out with you.

Well, you suppose at least one iteration of you DID enjoy a three year journey alongside John and Davesprite. You really wonder how different your trip would have been if you had your friends with you.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: So what’s it gonna be, sweet buns?

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Got a wish in mind already?

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Better be careful what you think of, or it may become a reality right in front of your very eyes. ;3

JANE: Oh Jaspie, please…

JANE: We’re in the middle of a party, can’t you control yourself just a teensy tiny bit?

JASPROSESPRITE^2: You and I both know the answer to that question already, mrrow~.

It’s okay though. You’ve put it all behind by now. You won the game, and John was back. All of your original friend group made it, crossed the threshold, and became the Gods of this new world. And it has been fun! It really has been so much fun, you’ve met so many different people, and you have discovered so many different things about yourself!

But not everyone is as eager and excited as you are.

You really don’t know what goes through his mind most of the time, but you know John is not doing so fresh. After going through so much, after thinking you would never see him again for three long years… Despite him being alive, it’s not like you have seen that much of him lately either way.

“not today”, “i’m feeling a bit off, sorry!”, excuses, all of them, but you want to respect his… You don’t even know, honestly. His privacy? His desire to mope around all day? Ugh. But you simply couldn’t handle him being holed up and alone in his Birthday of all days. It took a while to convince him, but you did it. And it has been…

JOHN: …eally fun.

JADE: huh?

JOHN: i said this has been fun!

JOHN: i’m… sorry i haven’t been THERE too much lately, jade.

JOHN: but i’m glad i listened to you.

JOHN: it’s been waaaay too long since the last time i hung out with all of you guys.

JOHN: i…

JOHN: i missed this.

JOHN: thank you.

JADE: :’D

JADE: awww, cmere you adorable little sweetie!

Your arm curls around his back, hand pressed to that messy mane of his, longer than you remember him having let it grow before. There’s an almost… Nostalgic longing in those bright blue eyes of his, and you can’t help but wonder if there isn’t something else he’s missing today.

…

Not like you can do much about it. The party is just getting started, and you intend to make the best of every second. Here, today. With your friends and family.

29 notes · View notes

thewebcomicsreview · 5 years ago

Photo

Homestuck 2 Liveblog, Part 3

(See older parts here or on Tumblr here)

Chapter 3: How Are your feelings

We’ve got a new ship, which appears to have sails for some reason, and it’s either rocketing forward with determination, or crashing. Presumably, this is the ship containing the Meatworld Crew, who set out to rescue Rose from Dirk’s mind control. God, this plot is so complicated.

In anyone else’s hands, this is just a microphone. In my hands it’s a pipe boat.

The one spoiler I had for this chapter was that the ship design was stupid, and...yes. That says “Grandpa Harley” a lot more than the Theseus did, though I don’t think Canon Jake ever smoked.

Oh boy, the narration text is in the first person. It’s also lowercase, so one presumes this is Calliope, in Jade’s body? I thought Calliope was trying to maintain the role of invisible narrator, though, and she’s calling attention to herself more obviously than any of the other narrators.

Me on my way to steal your girl by possessing her and floating around all creepy for three years

JADE: the prince’s power grows.

KARKAT: JESUS CHRIST!

Heh. This art is really nice. Jade’s speaking in Calliope’s red text, so she is indeed possessed by Calliope. Poor Jade. Homestuck proper is 8,192 pages. The epilogue is 100,000 words, and we’re 100 pages into Homestuck 2. Jade has been stuck on a boat, possessed, unconscious, dead,possessed again, or otherwise out of the story since Cascade, all the way back on page 4,109. No wonder she became a hedonist. Of course, who’s fault is it that Jade missed the final battle.

(From Homestuck 1).

I always read this as foreshadowing that Jade would get a big moment, and it never happened. Hopefully someone on the writing team remembers that Jade is supposed to roar to life and show everyone who’s the real master. But for now, alas, the real master is Calliope, hypocritically fighting for the free will of all by taking Jade out of the story again. Anyway, that was a long tangent and a lot of search (give me back the .txt file of the whole comic, Viz!) back to Homestuck 2.

Oh hey, DaveKat is canon now, I forgot. It’s mildly annoying that Dave and Calliope are in the same scene with the same text color, but whatev.

Aww, Karkat’s wearing Dave’s shirt. How cute. Less cute: Calliope’s added her red to Jade’s outfit, including her logo. She’s really just as evil as Dirk, isn’t she?

Also, I don’t know if this sprite style quite works for a “leaning up in bed pose”

This just looks odd. Probably doesn’t help that we’re see Dave without shades for I believe the first time ever.

KARKAT: OH, PARDON THE FUCK OUT OF ME FOR OVERREACTING A LITTLE WHEN MY GOOD FRIEND "POSSESSED JADE" BUSTS INTO MY RESPITEBLOCK AT 5 AM!

Aw, I missed this, a Karkat tantrum.

I like this dynamic. But if they’ve been on this boat as long as Dirk has been on his, Jade’s been possessed for three years.

Why are Dirk and Calliope’s powers growing, though? Especially Calliope, shouldn’t she be maxed out by now? She literally ate Lord Engl-

....

Calliope is powerful enough to escape Candyland because she ate Lord English, and Lord English is partially comprised of Dirk, so there’s quite literally a little bit of Dirk inside Calliope right now. That’s maybe something to keep in the back of our minds, but now I’m theorycrafting.

The only way twenty-somethings can afford an apartment this night is if they live somewhere with a killer commute, which is why it takes three years to get anywhere

Okay, phew. So this Roxy is trans, but the Roxy on Candyland isn’t. That’s something I’m going to have to be careful to remember lest I use the wrong pronoun for the wrong one and everyone gets mad at me.

Dirk, like the coffee, getting roasted here

So, has this crew not been chasing Dirk for three years, or has Dave just been all “I sure am comfortable with you being trans now” incessantly from age 23 to age 26? I guess that’s pretty in-character for him. Everyone seems to not be used to a situation they should be used to be now so far, but maybe that’s just for our benefit as readers who can’t remember all this nonsense?

I love how Kanaya the Fashion Troll is basically the only character in the entire franchise to go “Fuck I haven’t been onscreen in over ten years I should change my look”. The big bow is Rose’s from way back when her and Kanaya first met, which is a cute nod.

Okay I get that they want to remind these things to the reader, but Dave. Dude. She’s your sister-in-law. She’s been your sister-in-law for 7 to 10 years depending on how long you’ve been on that boat and she’s been a vampire that whole time. Someone give this boy a set of flash cards, Jesus Christ!

OBVIOUS FORESHADOWING ALERT: This story is about a “young prince”, and this is going to be a metaphor. The young prince is Dirk, the Prince of Time, and the Rose is....Rose.

Aww, this is cute. I should have put on Kanaya’s Theme while reading this, it fits the mood of the scene really well.

Oh man, none of these people know John’s dead

fffffffffffffffff

Okay, so that’s 7 years between the end of Homestuck 1 and the Homestuck Epilogues. Dirk’s been on his boat for three years, but we’re with the Meat Crew at the start of their journey, (which means Roxy only recently came out as trans, which I guess makes it less weird that Dave is still processing it).

But god, this is a lot of timelines to keep track of. I guess it’s fun in a way, being intensely convoluted was part of the fun of trying to piece together Homestuck 1′s plot, but I think I’m this close to busting out a white board where and how old everyone is actually fuck it

God as my witness, I will one day have a vague understanding of what the fuck is going on in Homestuck and I will die trying!

This seems metatextual, in that the characters are more complete when they have like a goal and stuff. Or it might be the Homestuck 2 writers taking a subtle jab at the Epilogue writers, that everyone’s better off having left the epilogues behind and moving on to Homestuck 2. That might be reading too much into it.

Of course, as soon as I say that we cut from Dave talking about how everything’s better to Karkat talking about how everything’s worse.

Wait, non-god Calliope is on the ship? UGH, the whiteboard already needs to be updated! The epilogues implied she was too scared of god-Calliope to leave her room, so I’d assumed she’d stayed behind. Damn it.

Heh. Also: Huh? Karkat is making a lot of assumptions here, given that Terezi, Sollux, and Aradia are all alive, he never saw Gamzee die, and Vriska dying just made her more powerful.

And that’s the update! I like these character interactions, even though they’re mostly just sitting around and naval-gazing like in Act 6 and the epilogues, because at least it’s got some jokes it feels like it’s all going somewhere. And starting next month, it’s going to be going there twice as fast

#Homestuck #Homestuck 2 #Homestuck 2 Liveblog

32 notes · View notes

darkhymns-fic · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet Desserts in the Desert

Lloyd and Colette are back on their journey for the Exspheres, but Lloyd still worries about how he left things between them last time. So worried that he hadn't remembered at all that it was his birthday.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: PG Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: For Colloyd Week Day 3: Birthday Present. Takes place after Dawn of the New World. Includes birthday cakes, baths, and maybe something about presents.

In all honesty, Lloyd had never really gotten used to the desert.

“Ugh, I was just sweating buckets not even an hour ago,” Lloyd was muttering to himself. Well, not exactly to himself. Noishe was with him, both hero and dog seated just outside of the sole inn of Triet. There was still the taste of sand on his tongue from earlier, but now the air was chilly, the night sky so clear with its smattering of stars. The wind blew slightly, along the faint rustling leaves from the scarce palm trees that dotted the streets.

He quickly went to put on his jacket which had been damped with sweat before, watching the clear night sky above him. Few people were outside, the hour getting late, and probably smart enough to know when to go indoors. But he couldn’t do that, not just yet anyway.

“Wish I had fur like you…” he muttered, still somewhat fumbling with his jacket.

Noishe’s ears perked at the statement, blowing soft mist in the air with each of his pants. But all that left his note was a confused whine.

“Ah, forget it.” Lloyd just half-buttoned his jacket before laying his hands on the ground leaning back. “Colette said she was just going to a shop…Wonder what’s taking so long.”

Finally back on their journey together, he and Colette had decided to traverse familiar places. It was also convenient, Triet only a short week’s travel from Iselia. Still, this desert town wasn’t exactly one of his favorite pitstops. Hot days and cold nights – the change was always sudden, and when Triet had gotten its first taste of snow after the world regeneration, it didn’t help matters. And Lloyd swore that it was chillier than usual now… even though the mana should have been stable. Maybe he was just sensitive to the cold.

Noishe saw his shivering state and decided to help Lloyd by shuffling against him, tail wagging excitedly. But he was also a Very Big dog, putting more of his weight on Lloyd than he probably meant to.

“Noishe! Don’t just sit on my lap without warning..” Lloyd grumbled. But only a little bit, since he was fighting to get rid of the fur that was now in his mouth. “And you’re all dusty with sand too!”

Another whine from Noishe, paired with shining black eyes as he looked at Lloyd.

“Oh, fine… I missed you too,” he said with a sigh, patting behind the big pointed ears. It had been nearly a year since he had just left Noishe at Dirk’s without warning. Since he had left everyone… and yet he and Colette were picking up right where they left off with the Exspheres. Just like that.

But things felt different, like the nights in Triet. Lloyd threaded his fingers through the comforting fur, growing silent. He felt different. Could he accept that about himself? Could Colette? And…where was she? Maybe she realized that-

“Lloyd!” Her voice broke through the hazy veil that had been clouding his head. He blinked. “Lloyd! Happy birthday!”

He blinked again. Huh? Another blink…It’s my birthday?!

Lloyd had to shove Noishe off him, just so he could finally see past the dog and his sea of green and white fur. In front of him was Colette, smiling so widely as she held something in her hands. In fact, it was so big that it seemed to almost cover up her arms completely.

“Whoa! You got me a cake?” Lloyd said so loudly, he was sure he must have woken up a few people from their homes. But he was too busy staring. Colette got him a cake! With frosting and everything!

“Yep! Sorry, I know it’s probably not as nice as the cakes they have in Meltokio…but they have a really cute bakery here. It’s just right next to that hole I made!” She sounded so proud, standing on her tiptoes as she held out the big confectionary treat. “I remember, because when I first came here, I wanted to see all of their desserts. And uh, that’s when I tripped.”

“Oh,” Lloyd said, then grinned along with her. “I guess I must have missed it last time. That’s cool they still keep it up there!” Though he wondered if a desert bakery made sense to him. What if all their desserts had sand in it? Desert…dessert…maybe there was a connection…

But the look on Colette’s face was so happy though, happy with him – and he tried to brush away that weird nagging feeling as to why she would, after all that he did. Luckily, the cake she held was a good distraction. It had swirls of chocolate frosting, topped with black cherries, and it even had all the candles for his age! It looked kind of a lot…How old was he again?

“Do you wanna have a slice?” she asked him, and of course he did!

“Yeah definitely! And no, Noishe, you’re not having any!” Lloyd said immediately, knowing the whines would follow, but he knew that cake just wasn’t good for dogs!

Then as Colette got closer with the cake, he noticed something different. “Is that my face on it?”

This was when Colette started to look a bit less confident. “Um, yeah. Hehe… well, the thing is, they don’t really have any current pictures of you…And I tried my best to describe you! But they still had that wanted poster hanging around, and I think people around here have grown fond of it…And…it’s kinda cute if you think about-”

“Colette, watch your step!”

But it was too late. There had been a stray pebble on the path, and that was more than enough to make Colette ultimately tumble.

“Whoops!”

Maybe it was fate that Lloyd was about to be bombarded with the cake that was decorated with a warped version of his face on it. Not like he had time to move out of the way, Colette only just a few steps in front of him. So that leering grin of his fell right over his own dumbfounded stare, in all of its chocolatey glory, the unlighted candles showering him as they collapsed to the sand-covered ground.

At least it tasted good.

Not only was he covered with sand from earlier as they hiked to Triet, along with his own sweat that was chilled to his skin from the coming of night – but he had chocolate frosting on his hair to top it all off.

“I’m so, so so sorry, Lloyd!” Colette had been apologizing, sounding like she was on the verge of tears as she guided him inside the inn. Noishe had been told to go back to the stables (Lloyd could tell because of all the high-pitched whining), Colette making sure he didn’t get a lick of any of the leftover cake that splattered to the ground. “I’ll clean it up for you right away!”

“Colette, you don’t need to, it’s okay!” Lloyd said as he looked to her. Or, well, he tried to. The cake was all over his face, and it was impeding his sight just a bit. “Just dump some water on my head and I’ll be fine!”

Colette didn’t say anything, but he guessed she shook her head to his suggestion since she was still leading him through the inn. He thought he heard a questioning noise from someone – probably the innkeeper, wondering why he had cake all over his face – but nothing else except for a door opening.

“Uh, Colette, where are you taking me?”

“We have to clean you up! There’s a bathroom down here. Let me help.”

This made him pause for a moment. “Uh. A what now.”

At some point, she let him go, but saw the shape of her (in his chocolate vision) move in front, retrieving a nearby bucket to dump into something big that stood within the middle of the room.

“Let me just fill this up! Then I’ll work on those buttons later…”

Triet’s bathroom was basically just a giant washtub, filled with now-tepid water from a nearby well. Not nearly as fancy as anything from Meltokio’s inns with their running water, or as unique like the warm hot springs. It was just a washtub, one familiar to Lloyd when he would have to fill his own from the river back home. And…when they had to use washtubs to cross the ocean a few times…

Lloyd saw all this once he got to wash his face a little from one bucket, his eyes and cheeks now clear of chocolate, though he couldn’t say the same for his hair. Colette was close, already helping him undress which he was just letting happen despite his weak protests. “I can bathe myself, Colette…” Still, the suspenders were already slipping off his shoulders, with barely a second to spare.

“Hm? Oh! Sorry, too fast?” She giggled, fingers lingering over his sleeves as she traced over the multitudes of silver clasps. “It’s okay, Lloyd. I know how to take this off! You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s not what I… Wait, how do you know?” It was not a statement from Colette that he had been prepared for. Still, he could only watch in fascination as she went about the landscape of his jacket, finally unclasping it with careful and thoughtful motions.

“Just trying to work out this sleeve button here…Oh, and I’ve had some practice with the one you gave me! It’s been really useful!”

“You still kept that ratty old thing?” he asked, genuinely surprised. He felt the sweaty jacket slip off him then, watching as Colette carefully folded it to lay on a nearby stool. Huh, she really had been fast with those buttons…

“Yeah of course! Okay, so now these belts…”

“I-! I think I got it, don’t worry!”

“Hm?” Colette looked up at him curiously, one hand gripping one of his lower belts. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, just…” His heart was beating fast, and if it weren’t for the remaining pieces of cake still in his hair, maybe he could have been smoother about this whole situation a little bit. “Are you like…actually okay with doing this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She tilted her head at him, her hair falling across her left shoulder. “You’ve stripped in front of me before, remember? Back at Dirk’s when you gave me your jacket!”

“But I wasn’t about to take a bath in front of you!”

“Hm, I guess so.” Then another smile. “It’s okay, Lloyd. I don’t mind at all!”

He heard the sharp clacks of his belts unbuckling as she got rid of them, one of them falling to the floor, his swords already having been put away earlier. “But…you’re acting like I can’t do this myself! I’m not a little kid… I’m… I’m 20 years old now!” He just remembered! “Yeah, I’m 20! And I can take baths by myself!” Okay, that sounded a little weird but it was true!

“Oh, I know, hehe. I just wanted to do this for you.” She pulled down his pants then, his boxers were now in view, their color dark and unassuming – a real contrast to all the red he usually wore. “And I need to make it up for ruining your birthday…”

“Huh?” He blinked. “But you didn’t ruin anything…”

“I dropped your cake like a klutz. It was my fault.” She said this while tracing the hem of his shirt, then stared hard at it. “Oh! Forgot about this too.” With that, she pulled the shirt over his head, getting it half-way stuck on his face.

“Colette, none of that is your fau-mmfhgg!” Muffled by the shirt over his mouth, both struggled a bit with it, Colette repeating her apologies over and over until he could finally be free from the fabric.

“Ahhh sorry, sorry, sorry!”

“S-stop apologizing! You have nothing be sorry for!” His head popped out, disheveling both hair and chocolate frosting everywhere. His head was still half-cake at this point. “It’s all my fault to begin with!”

That made Colette pause, clutching Lloyd’s black undershirt in her hands. It was still half-splattered in chocolate frosting, some of it from his hair when he had pulled it. “Lloyd?”

Well, that wasn’t a thing he meant to say out loud.

“Uh..n-nothing. Anyway, that washtub, right?” With sudden reflexes, Lloyd sprinted for the tub, grabbing the very edge of its wooden rim and leaping over it with all the energy he could muster! “Here I goooo!”

“Lloyd! You’re still wearing your boxers!”

Ah crap, he was.

Too late, for he had already splashed right into the washtub, getting lukewarm water all over the floor. He sunk like a rock inside it before breaking his head through the surface, feeling refreshed instantly. His hair must have been rid of the chocolate by now!

“It can be like I’m swimming then!” he explained to Colette with a thumbs-up. “You need to wear clothes to swim!”

“You can’t swim in a washtub,” Colette said, then made a soft hum. “Or can you? I’ve never tried it.”

“Well, if we can row washtubs, I don’t see why you can’t swim in them,” he said in all sincerity.

“Huh, you’re right! Sounds like it’s fun too.” Colette turned away and Lloyd felt a bit relieved, thinking she was about to leave. Then maybe he could get rid of these now soaked boxers too…

…And then Colette instantly came back with soap in hand. “Let’s get you washed up then!”

“H-Hey!” But Colette was also really fast? She was already next to him, rubbing soap suds into his hair, the water splashing around his ears. “Colette!”

“Oh? Did I get soap in your eye?” She was already sitting on a stool right next to the washtub so that she could continue to do her task with more comfort.

“No…” Lloyd was saying, remembering he had a complaint…Or something like it… But Colette’s hands were rubbing his head softly. So soft. Maybe it was something about the soap that made him relax a bit more, laying his head against the edge of the washtub, leaning into her hands. “Just…can wash myself…”

“I know you can,” Colette said, and her tone was more serious than before. Lloyd picked up on it, but the feel of her hands on him got him so relaxed all the sudden. He felt the soap suds sink against his hair, making him sigh pleasantly. This did feel really nice. “I just wanted to do this for you.”

“Hm…” He could only say and nodded. And maybe it was also just what the earlier part of the day brought with it – the water washing away all of his dried sweat, sweeping away the sand that had gotten stuck to his hands or caught in his fingernails, and even soaking up the chocolate from Colette’s birthday cake for him…It really was so nice.

“And I’ve had a lot of practice from washing up Noishe too! Your hair is just like his fur!”

Okay, that comparison may have gotten him out of the dreamy state he had been in, at least for a few seconds. “I-It’s not… And Noishe isn’t good at taking baths! He’d get water everywhere.”

Colette pointedly looked around the room, where water puddles formed all around the floor from Lloyd’s jump. “Hmm…”

“…That doesn’t count...” he pouted, leaning back into her hands. “I’m being good now, aren’t I?”

“Hehe, yeah. See? I told you I could help you with this.”

Another lazy nod, Lloyd already beginning to slip into that relaxed state, his body going a bit limp, half-floating in the water. “Yeah…You’re…good to me…” he said.

Her hands paused in his hair before going back to their circular motions, fingers and soap suds working together to unbind all the stress from him. A part of him knew he had said something too dumb and weird, but the other part of him was, ‘This feels nice, can I fall asleep now?’ Although maybe falling asleep in a washtub wasn’t a good idea…

“Hey, Lloyd? Can I tell you something?”

“Mmwha?” He blinked a few times. Jeez, he really had been about to fall asleep. “Yeah…you can tell me…” Though hopefully she’d keep washing his hair like that as she did so.

“I’m just happy I get to be with you again.” He heard the smile through her voice. “I wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to for a while.”

Lloyd heard her words like he was in a dream, cocooned in warmth, floating within it. But, he needed to do something. He tried sitting up, all while still laying his head in her hands. “I meant…to come back…”

He didn’t hear her respond, still washing his hair. She was probably getting her clothes wet by doing this. My fault, he thought again, but kept himself from speaking too much. She most likely already thought he was being weird about this.

“You know…I tried to make you something like you did for me,” she said, speaking a little more clearly. “But I could never learn how to. I can’t make as beautiful things like you can. I should have tried to last year but, well, you were gone, so…”

His mind paused. The necklace. He turned to her. “You still have it?”

“Hm? Oh of course I do! I always have it with me.” Colette took away one hand to press against her neck. It had been hidden by her overcoat, but there it was, the light from the room reflecting off the links of the necklace’s chain. “See?”

“You dork, you’re getting soap all over yourself!”

“Ah!” Colette pulled her hand away, but some soap suds had fallen over her cheeks. “Sorry!”

But he laughed, somehow feeling…surprised. She really kept it. After he had just suddenly left her in the middle of their journey, she still had it with her.

He didn’t know what else to say at first, still seated within that washtub, the water more tepid, and the soap drying up against his ears. “I didn’t give you a gift for last year either.”

Colette paused as well, as if contemplating her next words carefully. One hand was still near him, gentle against his hair. “Your gift to me was staying safe. And…this is silly, but, I felt as long as I still had this, that I knew you would be safe.” He felt her soft airy giggle against his neck. She was still close to him. “It does sound silly, doesn’t it?”

Without thinking, Lloyd reached for her hand, covered in those suds, some of it trailing down his hand to drip into the water.

“Ah, careful! You’re gonna get it in your eye for sure if-”

He leaned up from the water to kiss her then, the feel of her lips tingling his nerves, warmth bursting through his chest like a small campfire in the cold night. The water drops echoed all around him heightened by the closeness of the room and the washtub.

Colette didn’t flinch or pull away, but leaned into him, any hint of shyness melting away. In her nearness, he caught even more glimpses of her necklace, its shine so bright.

When he pulled away, he meant to say something meaningful to her, as he did when they had gone back to Flanoir and he finally told her he loved her…

…Instead, he snickered. “Oh…uh, got some more soap on you.”

Colette blinked. Looked like she hadn’t expected that response either. “Oh? On my face?” And with her soapy hand, she reached to touch her cheeks, her nose, effectively getting it everywhere.

“Well, now you do! I meant your hair.” Lloyd grinned, reaching up with his other hand to get rid of those soapy bubbles caught onto the fine golden strands. But with the dripping water on him, he just succeeded in getting even more on her, and then just soaking her hair… but he wouldn’t give up! “Hold on, I got it!”

“Ahhh, Lloyd! That’s way too much!” She grinned, reaching for his hands again, clasping it in his own, and then leaned down to steal a kiss from him, the way he did with her… then felt her hands slip from his to rush through his own hair. It was like she was molding it with the strength of the soap.“There!”

“Heeey, what did you do to my hair?” He peeked a glimpse of himself in the water, and while the reflection was a bit hazy, he saw how she had used the soap to pull at his hair from the front, curving it like some weird pompadour.

“Now you match better with your picture!” Colette said with a laugh. “It looks cute!”

“Nooo, I don’t look cute!” Lloyd whined, but with a mischievous grin, he reached for her hair too, no longer being careful anymore. “You do!”

“There’s water getting everywhere-! Whoops!”

Lloyd probably should have expected that Colette would trip again, but he was still unsure how she was able to just tip over at this angle, falling right against him in the washtub, effectively overflowing the tub with both of them in it.

Her falls really were little acts of miracles.

“Well, at least you can get your bath too,” Lloyd said, not minding it at all as she floated on top of him, arms wrapped around her waist. “Since you’re already soaped up and everything.”

“But my clothes are all soaked,” she complained.

This only made Lloyd grin, forgetting all his previous worries and nervousness. Everything felt so natural – why did he think they couldn’t go back to how they were before? “I can help with that.”

“Ahh, that’s silly though..”

“It’ll be a fun birthday present!”

“Lloyd!” but she was laughing too and maybe they did a lot more swimming than bathing in the end anyway.

But it really had been a good birthday present all around.

#colloyd #tales of symphonia #colette brunel #lloyd irving #colloydweek2020

8 notes · View notes