i'd rather be mortal

of men and amoebas

“Seriously, dude? This again?”

It was starting to get real old, real fast, having this guy swagger in on his high horse talking nonsense about magic and snatching artifacts out of her hands. Uhm, hello? How exactly was she supposed to become a full-fledged Agent of W.A.R.E. with this cute GUY constantly undercutting her credibility here?

“Artifacts are dangerous. Magic is fictional. I appreciate the assist earlier, but you need to fork over the straitjacket. Houdini’s other artifact is NUTSO, I don’t even wanna guess what that thing can do once it gets amped up.”

“Of course I know it’s dangerous! But it’s not some artifact for you to pile into your Antiques Road Show-- It’s magic!” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And I don’t care what sort of agency you work for-- this is staying with me. I’m going to be locking it away where it can’t hurt anyone else.” He gestured to the jacket, contained in what looked like a clear trash bag.

yes or no

He might’ve just choked on his drink there. 

Ask Claudia out? No no-- she was far too irksome to put up with. Houdini’s straightjacket belonged back in Halloweentown-- not locked away in some warehouse where the government could do who knows what with it. 

Not that he didn’t trust his own kind but-- if warlocks could go mad with power-- mortals could as well.

As for Claudia-- she was cute but-- a bit young for him and way out of his league. She was smart and sassy-- a free spirit. There was absolutely no way someone like him could keep up with someone like her. He was too-- boring.

“No.”

yes or no

Much as he detested being stuck between two worlds-- his magic allowed him to protect his family. It was his duty as the man of the house to protect the entire Cromwell clan. Perhaps, if he were younger and more naive, he might’ve said yes without hesitation. But now?

yes or no

There was no telling how many cursed and magical objects were in that Warehouse that Claudia had spoken of. How mortals managed to contain them all this time was a mystery- but for certain they needed to be properly contained.

dead poet’s society starters

“Neither. I’m just the guy keeping you from being fried. No biggie.” He explained, shrugging his shoulders. This girl was terribly stubborn-- but Dylan had a job to do. He had to contain the magical anomaly and lock it back up where it couldn’t hurt anyone.

To leave it in the hands of mortals would be beyond foolish.

dead poet’s society starters

“That’s a pretty cynical view of the world. Everyone has the capacity to be a jerk. She wasn’t my type anyway. Just using me for my Chemistry notes.” Dylan professed dejectedly, shrugging his shoulders. How girls had the power to string him along so effortlessly remained a mystery. Probably had something to do with hormones. 

“…right. Magic’s real. And I graduated from Hogwarts, can’t you tell by my accent?”

dead poet’s society starters

“No-- it’s fine. They were right.” He waved a hand. “I’m a freak. You-- You deserve to hang out with people who are cooler than I am. I’ll be fine.” Dylan chewed on his lip whilst avoiding Max’s gaze. Who was he kidding-- trying to be buddies with someone like him?

“Just me,” Sarah echoed, her grin widening as her tongue slithered up to touch her teeth, delighted by the simple answer. Just me, just me, but they weren’t really just me, neither of them were. Oh no. They were something far greater than JUST ME. They were dusty tomes that smelled like crisp paper and lucky rat tails left high in the rafters for a charm, bubbling cauldrons that smelled of the promise of an eternity spent young and beautiful and loved, the fingers of the wind combing through their hair as they rode high enough on a broom to touch the stars.

Sarah pulled herself up to her full height, body swaying with unconsciously with a sensuousness she rarely denied, and looked at the boy with light eyes that twinkled mischievously.

“I be as much witch as thee, boy.”

Her fingers reached longingly for him again, aching already for the magic that flowed in his veins, too long absent in her memory; she turned the involuntary action into an invitation, turning the hand over and offering it to him instead. Her home was near, was it not?, as was her bed–should he like it–and, if nothing more of interest to him, Winnie’s grimoire. They could raise her sisters together and sup well. It had been too long since Sarah had had such handsome company. “Our Master would tell us to raise mine sisters, would he not? Come, my home is near–with your help it would be done in a trice, and my gratitude would be yours for the taking.”

It should be said that on these last words, Sarah leaned some forward, coquettishly presenting her bosom to leave less to chance a misunderstanding betwixt them.

His heart was already racing from nerves alone. This witch was terribly aggressive-- which only threw him off. Dylan had spent his entire life trying to be normal. He only learned how to weave spells to help his family out. But this was beyond anything he wanted.

She was-- she was outright propositioning him.

Why was it that the folks he didn’t want to flirt with him were the ones that did? He liked humans. Plain old-- normal humans. Being stuck between two worlds as he was came with a lot of stress. Marnie and Sophie leapt at the chance to be witches. Meanwhile Dylan had plodded along reluctantly. 

Whether he liked it or not, his magic was paramount to keeping his family safe. It was the only reason he elected to use it. Magic was best used to protect folks-- to help others and not one’s self. To use it for cooking, cleaning, doing homework-- it was a waste.

Dylan felt his cheeks blaze crimson in color as he shook his head, attempting to find some way to get away from her. “I-I don’t think-- that’s a good idea.” He stammered nervously.