Season one of Dirk Gently except that, just beneath the surface, all of the psychic murder children are eldritch horrors.
They seem just a bit too interested when their gaze flickers over you, and there’s something almost predatory in their smile (even Dirk’s too-toothy grin). There’s something in Bart’s careless movements, and the Rowdy 3′s hive mind, and the way that bizarre and frightening states of disaster follow Dirk wherever he goes.
(Just before the breakout RIggins finds a book about cosmicism, finds a name for what he’s felt for years, the sense that ordinary life is a thin shell over a reality that is so
alien and abstract in comparison that merely contemplating it would
damage the sanity of the ordinary person.)
There’s a reason why Blackwing wants them all back so badly.
have you ever noticed how you respond to them? venture with me, for a moment.
you sit in class, and maybe it’s a work day. the class is quiet, minding their own business. you glance up, and maybe you meet their eyes. maybe you don’t.
but there’s that…absolutely gorgeous smile on their face. it’s not even a full-blown, toothy ordeal, but just the most gentle grin you’ve ever seen. how many muscles does it take for them to smile like that? less than thirty.
but it’s enough to set you off, isn’t it? isn’t it incredible?
your heart rate picks up, your mind runs wild – or maybe, you can’t even think at all. your brain is so overloaded that all you can see is that smile and white in your head, but those neurons firing in your brain…it’s all because of the work of less than thirty muscles.
your palms get sweaty, your eyes stop focusing so intensely, and you turn back to whatever you were working on before, God forbid you actually get any work done now.
less than thirty muscles.
how can just a little grin make your body react in a seamless, collective movement of muscles?
oh, but wait and see what happens when you make eye contact with each other.
“But I want to hear you sing.” // photographer!jungkook
Jungkook keeps his steps light and his movements as quiet as possible when his feet pads across the wooden floors, camera in possession, ready for it to start clicking at the focus of a subject. His grin starts to stretch out - silently - as his fingers inch out carefully to get the door open. Despite the creak that cracks through the silence, it isn’t enough to stop the voice that resonates off the tiles with the steam of home, bubbles of happiness afloat and with a couple of clicks that echoes.
Ah, that’s where it stops.
When you peek through the glass that’s not covered by the shower curtains, you yelp and scoot to cover yourself, yelling in the next.
“Surprise?” Not even his toothy grin can get him out of this (literally) when he remains at where he is, bathroom door closed behind him, camera still in possession. Although he can’t quite see you past the running water being hidden by the floral plastic draping from the ceiling, he still smiles when you use it to your advantage, “What’re you doing in here?”
“I heard something beautiful, so I followed it,” Oh hell no, he thinks he’s really cute with his answer, huh? Stepping out to the side, revealing a bit but not enough (to Jungkook, at least), you raise a brow with folded arms, water still streaming down to follow your frown, “So if you see a pretty lady down the block, you’re telling me you’re going to follow her home?”
“Why would I follow you home when I live here too?” Jungkook tilts his head, and you squint your eyes at him, “You think you’re real smooth, huh?”
“You weren’t complaining about it last night,”
“…get out, Jeon,”
“But I want to hear you sing,” He whines, adorably (you won’t say it now) shaking his body as he sets his camera aside to the counter and you shake your head, stepping forward to be hidden and that makes him - “Y/N…”
You show yourself, leaning back with a coy smile, finger curling in a motion that gets him to - “Come here, then,”
So I’m finally cross-posting this here from my ao3 account. I would have done it sooner but that would have required some editing and I’ve just been lazy :-). I figured I might as well put it on my blog (after 3 months lol) just to archive it.
Warnings: Try not to cry I guess.
Disclaimer: This is not a writing blog. I just like to very occasionally write fan fiction when I have the time (and I usually don’t).
To be honest, Jungkook had no idea what to expect when his mother (without his permission) signed him up to be a volunteer at the small local hospital. He imagined wearing a girly striped smock while cringing as he changed a sickly, middle-aged man’s bed pan. He imagined wanting to tear his ears off after hours of listening to elderly patients gripe about backhanded politics, overly complicated technology, and how his ear piercings made him look like some kind of “flamboyant thug.” Hell he even imagined getting roped in a doctor’s desperate plan to save a patient’s life who’s been impaled by a stop sign like in those ER shows he secretly binge watches when no one’s at home.
What he didn’t expect was to be led to the long-term stay ward by a pale, blond haired nurse, who looked like he rather curl up in the nearest comfortable spot and take a nap then be a full-time medical worker and be introduced a teenage boy with bright red hair and an even brighter toothy grin sitting upright in scratchy, white hospital bed sheets.
“Jungkook, this is Jimin.” The nurse drawled out with a deep, but lazy tone. “Jimin, this is Jungkook. He’s the volunteer assigned to you to keep you company for a few hours a week. Try not to scare this one off with your greasiness.”
The boy, Jimin apparently, let out a high-pitched laugh. “Ah Yoongi hyung I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why would I scare away someone as handsome as Jungkook here.” He ended with a flirtatious smirk and eye-smile directed towards said boy, making Jungkook highly consider turning about face and walking straight out of this hospital without even a glance back, but despite himself he stay rooted to the same spot sporting an annoyed look on his ‘handsome’ face.
“You see that’s what I’m talking about.” Yoongi let out an exasperated breath and turned to leave Jungkook to his fate but stopped to give Jungkook a side long look. “Hey this might be asking much but please be patient with Jimin. He’s a good kid, an annoying little shit at times, but a good kid nonetheless.” Jungkook just nodded at Yoongi’s sagely advice as said nurse shuffled away, kind of struck speechless at the fact that a medical professional would call someone a ‘little shit’.
Jungkook wearily walked towards the empty chair that was adjacent to smiling boy’s hospital bed and sat down. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed by as Jimin stared at the teenage boy waiting for him to open his mouth and Jungkook stared out of the large sliding window, determined to avoid looking at the guy that had some nerve to openly flirt with him 10 seconds after meeting him.
“Ah I see, you’re the shy type. I guess that means I’ll have to be the ice breaker.” Jimin rubbed his chin in a comical, but contemplating manner. “I know,” he snapped his fingers as an idea popped inside his mind. “Want to know what I’m dying from?”
Snapping his attention away from watching a bird bully a squirrel, Jungkook couldn’t help to give the red-haired boy a wide eyed ‘are-you-serious’ look. He couldn’t believe that came out of someone’s mouth.
“I see that got your attention.” Jimin gave him smug smirk (that looked suspiciously similar to the flirty one he gave Jungkook a few minutes ago, Jungkook noted wearily). “Yeah well I have cancer-leukemia to be exact. I actually had it when I was little kid and it was thought it was gone and I was in remission but then BAM!” Jimin clapped his hands for emphasis, startling Jungkook a bit. “A few months after my 17th birthday I get the news that it’s come back.” He let out a short sigh before plastering a genuine grin on his face. “Such a life, but enough about that boring stuff. I want to know about you.”
All Jungkook could do was stare, absolutely befuddled at the sight before. How could someone, anyone, talk about dying from a terminal illness as if they were discussing the weather. There was only one thing Jungkook could think of to respond with.
“You’re…really strange, you know that?”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
Strangely enough Jungkook found himself back in the same wooden chair the next couple days, partially ignoring Jimin as he whined at him for barely answering his rapid fire questions. Even Yoongi raised a blond eyebrow as Jungkook signed in for work at the front desk earlier that day.
“Oh so I guess the kid didn’t scare you off yet with his shitty attempts at flirting.”
“Jungkookie~” His name was annoyingly drawn out, snapping him out of his musings.
“You’re ignoring me when I’m trying to ask you questions.” He put on a childish pout. “I swear kids these days are so disrespectful to their elders.”
“Okay first I don’t know why you feel the need to ask me so many questions; I’m not that interesting. And second you’re only two years older than me, though I have hard time believing that.” Jungkook eyes roamed over Jimin’s shorter stature and slightly chubby cheeks.
“Aish, this kid.” The red-haired teen gave him a faux glare before slipping into his usual smile. “But what do you mean you’re not interesting. Everyone has something interesting about them, like…do you collect anything?”
“Play any sports?”
“Not really.” That was kind of lie. Jungkook was actually really good at sports, but participating in organized sports never appealed to him.
“Know anyone famous like Big Bang?”
Jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that one. “Of course not.”
It amazed Jungkook how someone who was sick with such an aggressive illness could be so energetic. His dark eyes lit up when Jungkook walked in the room and had yet to stop shining as he roamed around the slightly spacious room while talking about everything and nothing.
“Come on everyone has something about themselves that’s interesting. How about music?”
“Yeah like can you play an instrument? Or sing, dance?”
Jungkook was just going to say “no” but thought better to tell the truth to maybe end this meaningless conversation. “Well, uh, I can sing, I guess.” He averted his eyes, embarrassed at his admission. Not many people knew about his love of singing. That privilege usually belonged to his parents, brother, his old childhood friend, and his shower at home.
A calm silence spread throughout the room after Jungkook’s admission. Averting his dark eyes back to a now silent Jimin, Jungkook was surprise to see a soft look gracing Jimin’s face, taking place of the usual flirty grin.
“You can sing?” He asked softly, more softly than he’s ever been since they both met.
“Uh yeah, nothing special.” Jungkook shrugged his shoulders as his eyes desperately flitted around the room looking for anything, something to distract him from the strange look the usual jubilant boy gave him. They finally settled on the various “Get Well Soon” cards strangely organized on Jimin’s mostly cluttered desk.
“Can you sing for me sometime?” The question had Jungkook refocus his attention to Jimin, who still had that weird look on his face. For some reason Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to look away this time.
Jimin let out an amused snort at the younger’s cryptic answer. “You know I actually wanted to be a singer, an idol even.”
Now it was Jungkook’s turn to let out an amused snort. “Really?” To tell you the truth Jungkook couldn’t even imagine being one of K-pop’s many idols. Sure he loved Big Bang and highly admired G-Dragon, but you couldn’t pay him enough (or not pay in some cases) to have makeup caked up on his face almost every day, do body rolls and hip thrusts in front thousands of teenage girls, and have very risqué fanfiction written about him and one of his bandmate (or in some scenarios all of them). He just rather stay in Busan and loudly play video games with Taehyung, low key stalk G-Dragon’s Instagram, and secretly practice girl group dances in his room.
“Why does everyone always say that?” The red-haired teenager let out a sad puppy pout that made him look even younger than he already did. “I always thought it would be cool to have fans from Korea and internationally, travel the world holding concerts, and learning all sorts of choreography. It might seem like a hassle to some people but it’s a life I wouldn’t mind experiencing, even if was for one day.”
“Yeah but…” The younger hadn’t really consider the upside of being a singer. It was often hard reading idols faces; were they really happy with their life style choice, why did they choose to sign a binding contract just to have their face and private life plastered all over the internet, what is their goal? In all honesty Jungkook thought if he decided to become an idol, there may be a chance he end up resenting himself.
But of course he didn’t say any of this Jimin.
“But aren’t you too short to be an idol? The fangirls would have a hard time seeing you on stage.” He couldn’t help replying teasingly.
“Yah you’re really are a brat!” Jimin complained even though he was struggling to hold in a smile.
And despite himself, Jungkook couldn’t help let slip a chuckle from his lips, amused by Jimin’s red hair and even redder face.
Jimin stared out him for a little before bursting out in laughter himself, forgetting all his previous frustration towards the younger. “Ah Jungkookie you’re so cute when you smile.”
Jungkook quickly dropped his smile and looked away with an exaggerated eye roll. “I’m not cute and don’t call me ‘Jungkookie.’”
“I beg to differ.” Giving Jungkook his signature eye-smile. Glancing back at him, the younger couldn’t help but notice how genuine Jimin was being. Maybe this once he’ll return a compliment.
“Hey so when you finally sing for me, can you do it without a shirt on like Taeyang-sunbae?”
Or maybe not.
“I change my mind, I’m definitely not singing for you.”
I definitely vote u do the hydrochloric acid spill prompt!
This one got two requests! Woo!
Please note that I am absolutely AWFUL at science so kindly forgive any inaccuracies on that front. <3
Spending the evening working on a project in the science lab wasn’t how you had originally envisioned your night going, but you could hardly argue with the opportunity to watch Jillian Holtzmann working in her element.
Watching your classmate’s carefully chaotic process was like watching an artist, or some kind of particularly demented magician. Behind her tinted glasses (which you were fairly certain were not proper regulation safety goggles) her eyes were alight with interest and the color rose high in her cheeks as she measured and mixed various volatile chemicals as if they were as harmless as flour and water. Her usual goofy smirk was temporarily replaced by an expression of extreme concentration and excitement, brows furrowed over fiercely attentive blue eyes. Her lips continuously went through a cycle of pursing, biting, and sticking out her tongue and chewing it as she worked.
Holtzmann was so engrossed in her painstaking yet somehow haphazard methods that she only noticed the beaker full of clear, pungent liquid at her side when her elbow accidentally nudged it onto its side, splashing the strong-smelling contents all over the front of your shirt. It soaked through and immediately your skin began to tingle and burn painfully. Holtzmann let out a strangled squawk of alarm and leaped off of her stool, knocking it over backwards.
“Ooooohhhh my god!!” she babbled, grabbing your arm and hauling you out of your seat and dragging you bodily over to the corner of the room where the emergency chemical spill shower was located. You stumbled into the open stall in confusion, protesting belatedly as she seized the hem of your shirt and pulled it up over your head in one impressively swift jerk, leaving you shivering in nothing but your bra as the chilly lab air hit your skin. You clapped your arms around yourself as goosebumps sprang up and spread across your exposed flesh.
With far more excitement in her eyes than you felt was entirely warranted, and more than you were quite frankly comfortable with, Holtzmann yanked gleefully down on the shower handle. A gush of icy water drenched you, soaking through your remaining clothes and plastering your hair to your forehead. You gasped at the shock of the pressurized water, striking you like frozen little needles.
After you were sufficiently saturated, the shower clicked back off. Through the rivulets of water streaming down your face and dripping into your eyes, you saw Holtz grinning triumphantly at you.
“Fixed it!” she announced brightly.
Shivering pathetically, you stepped out of the shower. Holtzmann slung an arm around your bare shoulders, careless of the fact that you were still soaking wet. While you glowered moistly at her, Jillian’s eyes fixated pointedly on the bulge of your breasts over your arms and the plain black bra you wore, goofy grin not fading in the slightest. If anything, you could swear it got broader and even more toothy, eyebrows raised appreciatively.
“Nice, uh…whaddaya call it…decolletage?” she asked, gesturing with her middle finger to your cleavage.
“Did you just refer to my boobs using an 18th century colloquialism?” you demanded through chattering teeth. Her side was nice and solid and warm, so despite your considerable frustration and indignance, both at being stuck and soaked in a freezing cold laboratory with no shirt and at being leered at under the circumstances, you leaned closer to her, drawn by her warmth of body and character.
“Ya know,” Holtzmann mused thoughtfully, dismissing your complaint without addressing it. “If I’d known you looked this good wet and shirtlessm I’d have dumped hydrochloric acid on you much earlier in the semester.” Her eyes met yours and she lifted her brows matter-of-factly. “And more often.”
“Give me your jacket,” you bit out, flushing red to the tips of your ears.
Holtz complied without complaint, shrugging out of her blazer and draping it gallantly over your trembling shoulders. It hung loosely on you and didn’t do much more than your bra in terms of covering your chest, but it was warm from wear and smelled oddly of hydraulic fluid and some kind of flowery, spicy shampoo. Holtz gave you another appreciative up-and-down, then casually smoothed your wet hair back from your face before fairly prancing back to the abandoned lab table.
“Well, I think that’s more than enough for today,” she announced in some kind of weird impression you were entirely unfamiliar with and collecting her things.
“You think?” you asked sardonically.
Either she didn’t hear you or she chose to ignore your comment, because she straightened up, turned to look at you with those round blue eyes, and said, “You can keep that, you know,” pointing to the blazer before slinging her bag over one shoulder and heading for the door. As she passed near you, she paused and patted you fondly on the cheek with a grin and frustrating bite of her lip. “That’s a good color on you.”
As you watched the door swing shut behind her, you couldn’t tell which she had meant; the jacket, or the vibrant red blush burning across your face like acid.
If this is what Blaine will wake up to for the rest of his life, everything he’s heard about married sex is a lie. Then again, no one with anything to say about married sex has been married to Kurt Hummel.
(Anon prompted: “Blaine asks Kurt to leave his ring on when they’re being intimate” and this is where it went.)
This time yesterday, Blaine was lying in bed in his apartment, his new-but-not-new boyfriend lying next to him, rousing him awake because “Blaine, baby, get up,
Santana and Britt are getting married, we have to get ready, we have to
pick up your mom, we have to drive to Indiana…” And Blaine had
grumbled, pouted, laid on top of Kurt to keep him in bed for as long as
possible, because then Blaine wouldn’t have to face the possibility that
he might’ve dreamt their reunion after all.
So, I’ve seen people’s concepts for an “Alpha Flowey” for Underfell, and it’s got me thinking - what would make him want to assume that form? What exactly would the final battle be about? Wouldn’t he, upon becoming a near-god at the end of a pacifist or neutral run, just fix everything?
Well, that’s the thing - he WOULD fix everything. He’d make everyone friendly and nice BY FORCE. Instead of letting the monsters open up to each other when they’re comfortable, and learn kindness and compassion on their own terms, he’ll just take away their free will, and he’ll finally have what he wants. He’ll finally have the friends he’s been trying to make for so long. He’ll finally be happy, and safe, and loved. And it’s thanks to you that he has the human SOULS to achieve that… after all, isn’t that what you’ve been trying to do all this time? Then why aren’t you happy? Why aren’t you smiling!?
So of course, when you tell him that what he wants to do is wrong, he throws a god-sized temper tantrum. He accuses you of being no better than they are. And then he assumes his ‘Alpha’ form, and attacks you with everything he’s got, with the intent to brainwash you and MAKE you love him. ‘Cause even if he’s been nice to you all this time… he’s still soul-less.
Synopsis: You had
only gone clubbing because your best friend didn’t want to arrive alone -and
she needed a ride- and as expected, you got abandoned. But you weren’t alone in
being abandoned by your best friend.
The music pounded through your body, beat matching that of
your heart. Pushing through the sweaty bodies of those around you, you tried to
make your way to the bar to get out of the awkward situation. Taller men were
staring down on you like you were merely a chunk of meat; other women were
looking at you like you were competition. They had to fight for people’s
attention while you got it unwillingly.
Having finally of escaped the crowd, you took a seat at one
of the empty stools at the bar and ordered yourself a drink. You simply
couldn’t enjoy this sober. You were only here because one of your friends
dragged you here, although, she seemed to be enjoying herself on the dance
floor with someone who she was bound to wake up next to tomorrow morning. She
probably wouldn’t even notice if you left without her. Even so, you knew you
had to say, when she got too drunk even the slightest thing made her emotions
go insane, one reject on the dance floor and she would tear the place down. You
made sure to keep at least one eye on her the whole time.
When your drink had been made and placed in front of you,
you took it to your lips and drank it small sips at a time, watching the dance
floor. At one point, a boy -not much older than you- stumbled up and occupied
the stool next to you, ordering a drink for himself. Letting out a deep sigh
and relaxing his shoulders, he turned to you and saw that your attention was
purely on the people dancing; if you could call it dancing.
“Here for a friend?” He whispered close to your ear making
you jump. Barely diverting your attention from your friend, you nodded. “Me
too.” He admitted, “I kind of regret coming, they seem to be fine without me.”
He laughed lightly looking away from you.
“Mine too.” You
shouted over the noise so he could hear you, “As soon as I got here she…
occupied herself.” You laughed making the boy laugh as well.
“Names Jungkook.” He smiled and extended a hand towards you.
“Y/N.” You replied, shaking his hand firmly.
He smiled at you and then looked back to the crowd to find
his friend. “Ah screw it; he can live without me.” He laughed and turned around
to face the bar. With one last glance, you did the same.
“So, Y/N. How are you enjoying this fine evening?” He
grinned a toothy smile and sipped his drink, hiding the burn in his throat as
the liquid trickled down it.
“Well, I would rather be at home on my laptop let’s put it
that way.” You admitted with a chuckle.
“I could change that.” He smirked and as you opened your
mouth to reply two people stumbled up to you laughing.
“Hyegi?” You shouted at the same time as Jungkook shouted:
You both turned to face each other in shock before you got
“We’re gunna take off.” Hyegi giggled and leaned into the
other boy next to her who giggled back.
“O-okay.” You stuttered.
“See ya.” The taller blonde who goes by the name of Namjoon
winked at Jungkook trailing behind your best friend eagerly.
Both you and Jungkook sat there in shock for a few moments
at what had just happened. It didn’t seem to process as fast as it should have.
Sure, you were glad she had the decency to tell you that she was leaving
without you but still. And it just happened to be Jungkook’s best friend as
well. What on Earth were the chances?
“Well… that was something.” Jungkook sipped his drink and
spun back around.
“Yeah…” You trailed off, also sipping your drink.
The two of you sat in uncomfortable silence for a while,
neither of you knowing what to say to ease the tension. Even though the music
was deafeningly loud, it seemed to disappear making the situation even more
awkward. It was as if you and Jungkook were the only ones in the club. And for
the first time since you arrived, you wish there were more people.
Jungkook finished his drink and slammed the glass down onto
the bar so hard you were surprised it didn’t smash into a million pieces
“Do you want to catch a ride home?” He asked boldly, turning
to stare you in the face, “There’s no point us taking separate taxi’s.”
“How do you know I didn’t bring my own car?” You asked with
a smirk making his face drop.
“Did you?” He rose a perfect eyebrow at you.
“Luckily, I did.” He smirked cockily, rising from his stool
and extending a hand out to you. “So, how about that ride?” He asked once
Throwing the rest of your drink down your throat, you took
his hand and walked out of the club to his car. When you got into the car, you
suddenly realised that this boy was a completely random stranger that you knew
absolutely nothing about besides his name. Starting to panic slightly, you ran
a hand through your hair and weighed out the possibilities. What if he made a
move on you? What if he drove you to an alley way and killed you? Everything
flew round your mind as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Is it really safe for you to drive?” You asked, trying to
keep your voice calm.
“Yep, I didn’t drink over the limit.” He grinned and started
the car. You had kind of hoped that he said no so you could leave. Your fingers
found the hem of your black dress and you tugged on it nervously. Jungkook
seemed to notice your nervous habit as he quickly looked at you and furrowed
his eyebrows. Then realising why, he let out a small chuckle.
“I’m not going to make a move on you Y/N.” He laughed making
you snap around to face him.
“What?!” You squeaked. Half offended but also relieved.
“I said I’m not going to make a move on you.” He giggled and
turned the corner. “I’m not that kind of guy.”
You let out a sigh of relief and let yourself relax.
“Oh yeah, where do you live?” You told him and he nodded,
going in the general direction of your house.
The rest of the journey was silent -apart from when he
cursed at someone for pulling out at a red light but then instantly
apologised-. By the time you reached your house, you had fallen asleep in the
passenger seat. Jungkook didn’t seem to mind because when you pulled up outside
your house, he got out first and opened your door for you.
Tapping your shoulder, he whispered “Y/N.” When you merely
stirred, he undid your seatbelt, placed one arm under your knees and one around
your shoulders, lifting you up and carrying you over to your door.
“Ah man.” He whispered to himself when he realised he didn’t
have your keys. Looking around frantically for something to do he realised how
creepy he looked. Carrying an unconscious girl in his arms and looking for her
“Y/N.” He shook you in his arms, “We’re home.” He cursed
himself for saying ‘we’.
“Keys in pocket.” You mumbled and buried your head in his
chest for warmth. No one would believe that minutes ago you were scared of him
making a move on you.
He let your legs fall lightly to the ground but still held
you up as he reached and retrieved your keys and unlocked the door. Picking you
up again, he carried you into your house and kicked your door shut with his
“Rooms upstairs.” You muttered again and he took you there.
Barely believing what he was doing, he put you into your bed and tucked you in.
You couldn’t believe it either but you were half asleep, it all just felt like
a dream to you.
Before leaving, Jungkook scribbled his number onto a scrap
of paper to leave on your bedside table and planted a light kiss on your
077: “your dad is really excited to meet you soon, it’s driving me crazy.”
(Not quite the quote exactly, I hope that’s okay!)
The traffic is slow-moving despite the late hour but even that doesn’t dampen Beckett’s spirits. She hasn’t been this excited in a while, and the fact that even Dr. Burke had expressed his approval of her idea is the icing on top of the cake. “Unconventional, but a good idea,” he’d said.
Her car rolls to a stop at a set of lights and she takes the opportunity to turn around, smiling as her gaze falls upon her quiet, subdued passenger. She can’t help the sigh that escapes, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth in a habit she hasn’t been able to shake since she was a child.
Ohhhhh, man, I’ve got the perfect one! I call it—DUN, DUN, DUNNNNNNN…
The Day Mabel Got Her Braces Put On And It Hurt Like a Million Hammer-Monsters Slamming Her Face: The Saga!
But trust me, it turns into a happy story. And a hungry one! But moving on, vwoop!
So yeah, I got my braces on quite a while ago, but I still remember that day like it was yesterday. The orthodontist-guy’s light was super bright, I found some blue gum under the dentist’s chair, and my mouth was RIPPING MY TEETH OUT STRAIGHT FROM MY GUMS!
Or at least, that’s what it felt like.
On the drive home Dipper let me smoosh my face into his vest, but it only helped a little. See, on the pain-ness meter, braces are like, a 72. Out of 74! 74 is like, death or something.
And nobody in my family had braces, so they didn’t really know how bad it hurt, but like Mom said, when I stopped talking for that long, you knew something was wrong.
Finally, I guess Dipper got tired of me being all mopey—the breaking point was when I couldn’t eat any gummy koalas without my mouth hurting—and decided to do something about it. So you know what we did?
That’s right, COMMENCED ON AN EPIC FOOD QUEST!!!
We’re talking applesauce and mashed bananas. We’re talking yogurt and honey. We’re talking pizza—with a FORK!!! Basically any combination of foods that ended up mega soft, we tried it out. That way, even in my toothy turmoil (Tooth-oil! Ew, wait, that sounds gross), I could still eat something delicious and—well—not painful!
Best of all, Dipper always joined in—whatever I had to try out, he would try it too! Eventually we had so much fun that I just kinda forgot about the pain for that day. And as the time continued, we just kept trying out more and more crazy foods until soon enough I could eat just like a normal human again! Nom-nom!
Eventually I got used to having braces and stuff of course, but now every time I have to get them tightened, Dipper and I make that day a little awesomer by having the zany-bonkers-food fest!
So yeah, there’s my childhood memory, even though it still lives on today! Now, It’s super fun coming up with new foods to baffle my teeth—and Dipper.
I wonder how he’d feel about a mango marshmallow milkshake next time…
Not long after they were teamed up, Smokey Quartz introduced Hornblende to the concept of “flirting”, and after a few drinks, he decided to try it out for himself. Luckily for him, Morganite is pretty tolerant of these things.