#i finished my other concealer somehow even tho i never use it????? i never use concealer cs i fail to get the right shade each time

[kysvn]

my opp (fit me concealer)

[ashes-in-a-jar]

Tma relisten Episodes 6-10

(Still really long)

Alot of really important details that are going to be very relevant later on. Very facinating how early on you find these out. Relistens are good.

Episode 6 squirm

It's a good thing tma doesn't do much of sexual encounters and their connection to entities. While I'm sure that's a thing that in any realistic universe would exist avoiding it was a good choice. This statement was *shudder*

Interesting that she had no visible mark on her. Also being repulsed by police stations because the sectioned officers could have helped.

Naked in the streets after lighting his apartment on fire. What an image.

So technically the worms were in the archives 3 times: when Jane made her first statement, when Timothy hodge made his and when Jane attacked. The worms are very familiar with the magnus institute.

"This story is concerning. Not because of Mr. Hodge’s experience, although I’m sure it was very upsetting." ace Jon talking very technical about "experiences"

" though obviously it’s a tragic loss of life, etcetera, etcetera." Jon being Jon.

Ecdc are aware of Jane and corruption typical attacks which is off the bat interesting world building.

He's skeptic here because of lack of evidence but does admit the existence of a threat in Jane Prentiss

Also! He knows of her from before probably when he was a researcher. This confused me on first listen because I was trying to remember if she was ever mentioned before this. But she wasn't.

Episode 7 the piper

Wilfred kind of sounds like martin in some way but maybe it's just me assigning poetry to anyone like him.

But he hated apathy which might be very Martin like

Gentle sadness and creeping fear from the music. For violence of war... Is that what it means to immortalize it?

It's really cool that the concept of music in this podcast is associated specifically with war and unwarranted violence. There's a very strong statement in there somewhere that needs to be explored.

God this statement was intense. Lying for such a long time in that trench surrounded by violent death. But what's most interesting is that this statement doesn't feel like a supernatural one and yet... The piper was with Wilfred throughout the various battles and bouts of violence until the moment it was officially over. But in a very subtle way.

The description of the piper is really intense with the 3 faces. I think I missed it the first time but hearing that representation of war and fear is something I'm going to look for in artistic depictions now.

Wait. Who is Joseph Rayner? I know of Maxwell but never heard of Joseph.a victim instead of Wilfred? Collaborator with the Slaughter? Hmmm

I wonder how Accidental it was that the statement from 1922 was filed in the 2000s. Maybe to show that the piper never really leaves and the war never really ends. Ever.

Episode 8 burned out

Wow Hilltop Road already! I forgot how many of the first episodes were so important to the plot later on.

"That side of the road backed onto South Park with fences marking the bottom of each garden." this is wrong btw. Hilltop Road in Oxford does not run along Sount Park but is perpendicular to it, meeting it in the corner with Divinity Road which meets with Morrell Avenue which is the road running along South Park. Just FYI because I had to look this up to get a good picture. But I guess Morrell doesn't sound as exciting as Hilltop (which isn't even at the top of the hill smh)

Ivo lensik describes Raymond fielding as white which makes me automatically think he is not. Just a thought that popped in my mind.

Huh. His family had a history of schizophrenia. And his dad was obsessed with fractals. Being followed by The spiral (all the bones are in his hands) was also part of this story really interesting.

Agnes had mousy brown hair and looked like Raymond! Not red hair ( at least at first) like I pictured. Also she was a hell of a creepy child...

So did he time travel? Seeing the moments of Raymond's end? Seems like time doesn't work right in that place anyway.

Web person being devout church goer is also an interesting touch

Father Edwin Burroughs! I forgot he was here too! The knock reminded me of Mr Spider *shiver*

The priest explaining that the church exorcized demons but what not decisive if ghosts exist was hilarious. Jon dismisses paranormal but asks Martin if he's a ghost is opposite of the church.

Hmmm the web pushing him to cut the tree to uncover box from antique table...

Apple full of spiders ugh. Maybe something web was trapped in there by Desolation and ivo managed free it as Agnes was dying.

"We cannot prove any connection, but Martin unearthed a report on an Agnes Montague, who was found dead in her Sheffield flat on the evening of November 23rd 2006, the same day Mr. Lensik claims to have uprooted the tree." wow that's an obscure thing to find well done Martin!

Jon still looks for credence for this story despite the schizophrenia that could leave him skeptical.

"while I trust Mr. Lensik’s testimony of his own experiences about as far as I can throw a bleeding tree," again Jon with his special brand of jokes.

Episode 9 a Father's love

The Montauk's story! I always thought their family had one of the most tragic ones. The hunt is a really cruel patron with its forced hunger and having other entities use them as tools.

Julia telling the truth of the story to the Magnus Institute instead of the police is also heartbreaking. How desperate and alone she must have felt drowned in that awful literally unbelievable story. The magnus institute feeds off of those people too.

So many of the hunt end up in police it's just... Such a strong statement against that establishment. What do we do to make that less of a horrible, unjust, all consuming system? That feeds on the hunger of some and the abject fear of others? And it doesn't have to be supernatural. It's interesting how season five, of all seasons, is the one that gave us that perspective. The non supernatural one on the subject while the world itself is so far away from the natural. God everything about this idea is so heavy and painful.

I kind of hate Julia's fate because of her background and how much alot of its beginning was out of her control. It's like Daisy. The hunt can never be forgiven no matter how compulsive it is.

The dark that took her mother turned her into part of it? Like the dark liquid?

A dark room to develop his photos of his victims huh? A play on words here.

Oooh they put a heartbeats in the soundscape really cool actually.

So Montauk killed other dark members that tried to leave? For the ritual? Like Julia's mother?

The hunt compelled him to keep the hearts as trophies? which is very self destructive of the hunt to do. Or is it part of the dark ritual with the sacrifices that the heart had to be kept?

I think Montauk was trying to slow down the ritual as revenge that night, rendering the sacrifices he helped create useless. Which is why pitch came after them that night and dissappeared once Montauk finished his ritual.

Sourcing the Serial killer enthusiast community. Love that the archives use whatever source of info they can access.

So Maxwell dissappeared in 1994 from public eye land yet the cult kept working towards a ritual. But now in secret? Their timeline always confused me.

Episode 10 vampire killer

I never noticed Trevor came right after Julia! Oooh this is so much connecting the dots so early on!

Vampires are so disturbing here makes you ever wonder how the hell media like twilight were ever created. But hehe the monster ****er community has always been a vibrant one. Not these vampires tho.

Trevor is so sassy I love his statements. Like Julia it really makes me sad how consumed he became at the end and how awful his death was. Once again the tragedy of the Hunt.

"I taught myself to read, I read as much on the subject as I could, and it isn’t covered often or clearly in those books I have found." can you imagine what kinds of books he might have found during the sexy vampire Era? This is a hilarious picture to paint.

So vampires feed off of blood and not fear which is an interesting creature to have in this kind of universe. Although hunters are also like that but there is still alot of fear and awareness involved with that while the vampires try to conceal themselves until the last moment.

There's alot of mosquito imagery in these vampires which is... Ugh

Also interesting how many time Trevor just uses the vampire's full name. Never shortened and never talked about in another title. Sylvia McDonald this Sylvia McDonald that. Also the other vampire. They always had a name that was psychicly imposed on the victims to be remembered fully. Very Stranger behavior.

Ahhhh the one vampire weakness... Drrrugs.

It's also very flammable which sets interesting precedence to setting unnatural things on fire to make them disappear.

Alard dupont comes in a later statement right? Yeah in 56

Martin was there when the statement was given which was 2010 and in 2016 he's 29 so he worked there for a while! At least since age 23 perhaps we'll find out even earlier. And he was still scared to be found under qualified after all this time! Oof...

I wonder how draining it is to give a statement that it kills someone who is sick.

The government is in on this! Looking for the teeth Trevor gave the institute... Somehow that strikes me as hilarious in the world building of this podcast. And it really leaves Jon no choice but to concede that there is something to the statement even if he refuses to use the term vampire like Trevor did so freely.

[asgardianthot]

Hunting Season (sambucky) – Part 5

Series Masterlist

Warning: mention of abuse

Words: 2597

A/N: I know I sort of disappeared for a while lol school work has been insane and I’m just beginning to get used to the stress of being an art major, especially under these circumstances :/ All my free time I spent doing fanart tho so it feels like forever since I last wrote! Anyways, enjoy the following set of heavy declarations between these two loverbois because I loved writing this chapter!

Another note! In case it’s unclear, the flashback in the second half is what happened the night of the first chapter, when Sam invited Bucky over to help him with his financial problems and such, and he ended up getting drunk and being dragged to bed (when Sam asked if he said anything stupid, Bucky lied and said no)

When they reached their bedroom, Bucky let go of Sam’s grip, softly enough so that Sam would know he wasn’t tumbling from mere drunkenness. Even though he did tumble a bit on his way to the bed. Meanwhile, Sam closed the door and turned to aid his friend.

"I'm fine, Sam.” Bucky reassured him as he sat on the edge of the mattress, “Just wasted, 's all."

Sam, however, was determined to look after him, "Sit." He ordered.

James nodded with acceptance and took a breath, feeling the alcohol wash away and making room for sleepiness. Almost immediately, a knock was heard on the door, to which Sam checked to see if Bucky looked decent enough, in case they had to deal with any family members.

“Who is it?” Sam asked before opening.

He was relieved to hear a female voice which belonged to the maid, Nicole.

“I brought your coffee.” Her statement sounded more like a question.

Sam let go of the breath he was holding and received the platter, not without before thanking her with a kind smile. He waited until she had left to shut the door for good; the next person to come knocking would be met with them pretending to be asleep. Neither Sam nor Bucky were in the mood to withstand more judgement, but especially Sam wasn’t in the mood to deal with any other Barnes than the one in that room.

Sam offered the mug to Bucky, "You still want it?”

Yet the man made a grimace before rubbing his left eye, letting Sam know he was sleepy now and was in no need of sobering up through caffeine. It was better to just go to bed. When Sam put the mug away, James laid back on the bed with exhaustion. A few seconds later, he felt Sam’s hand taking off his shoes.

"Thanks." Bucky said in a hoarse, almost embarrassed tone.

Once Sam finished taking off the drunk man’s shoes off, he tossed them aside and sat on his butt, groaning with tiredness. What his eyes spoke to Bucky was uncertain, but there was a clear hint of disappointment. Sam didn’t mean to, but his entire body was rejecting the patience he tended to have for his buddy.

"What's got you so jumpy, dude?" Sam finally spat out what was in his preoccupied mind.

From the bed, Bucky looked down to the man on the floor and saw concern. Love. Someone who cared, and Bucky’s every fiber rejected the possibility of giving into it. He put up a big emotional wall between them and proceeded to fake disinterest. He scoffed, rubbed his sleepy eyes again and began looking up at the ceiling with nothingness dwelling in his eyes.

He shrugged and spoke as if it was nothing, "You know what's got me jumpy."

It had to do with Brock, obviously, and he didn’t feel like discussing the sensitivities of the past relationship right now. But Sam knew his friend and he knew he had never seen him react that defensive to anyone before. So aggressive, and excessively responsive. Sam wasn’t an idiot.

"No, I don't.” Sam replied sternly, “I know he's an asshole, and he's manipulative, and he's horrible, but I think there's more. And I really want you to tell me, if that's okay."

The way Sam phrased it, Bucky knew he already suspected the answer. There was no use hiding it, and he felt like lying about it would turn the whole situation into a bigger deal. There was no deceiving Samuel Wilson.

He bit the inside of his cheek, concealing his disgust, and replied in a monotone, "He kicked my ass, okay?"

Sam frowned, but his friend couldn’t see him.

"He what?"

Bucky sighed loudly. No matter how hard he tried to derail the subject, he knew he had to tell the details. He was finally giving in, and he hated it.

"I was... walking out that door for the last time, you know, he said he was tired of me leaving and coming back.” He turned his head to avoid facing his friend before continuing, “So he- whatever, he sort of... yanked my hair and stuff.”

The silence that followed gave room for Sam to believe there was more.

“Kicked me.” Bucky completed the details, then cleared his throat in an attempt to get rid of the knot in his throat, “Like I said, he kicked my ass."

"That's a big deal, Bucky,” Sam stated, his eyes big and apprehensive, and filled with an indiscernible mix of negative feelings, “that's abuse."

"So, it was. What'd you care?"

As much as Sam knew, deep down, that Bucky was speaking out of mere rejection of his own feelings, he couldn’t help but feel offended at the assumption that he could not worry about it.

"Because I care.” He raised his voice with disbelief, “God, of course I do, how couldn't I?"

He gained no response from James. In the midst of the horrific news, Sam had to remind himself of the fact that the man was still wasted, therefore he couldn’t ask too much of him. Sam wanted to know more, he wanted to have a real heart-to-heart, he wanted to go downstairs and smash a glass to Brock’s smug and damage his face permanently. Instead, he steadied himself, somehow. It took him a few long and difficult seconds to gather his calm, but he managed to do so.

He stood up and went to the bathroom to put on his pajamas. He seized the walk to throw Bucky his pajama pants, not too gently. The last thing he saw before shutting the bathroom door was Bucky’s inaccurate hand grabbing the item from the other side of the bed. When Sam came back from brushing his teeth, he saw Bucky in pajama bottoms and shirtless, passed out on his belly.

During the half hour to follow, Sam tried to catch some sleep, but his mind was elsewhere. More agonizingly long minutes passed, and all he could think about was that he would be too tired at the hunt the next day, which made him think of the Barnes and their guests, which made him think of Brock and how much he wanted to kill him for hurting Bucky.

Eventually, he heard choked noises coming from the man he was giving his back to, and later he realized that those noises were sobs. He turned and saw Bucky, curled up on himself, also giving Sam his back and trembling slightly as he failed to conceal his own crying.

"Buck." Sam called softly.

"I'm sorry.” He replied, his voice cracking, “I'm sorry for everything, for bringing you here, asking for money, fuck, I'm sorry for being your friend."

The final statement broke Sam’s heart even more than the sound of Bucky’s sobs. He placed one hand on the side of his torso, where his ribs contracted at the rhythm of his hectic breathing and attempted to calm him, mostly by telling him a comforting truth.

"Don't say that, man. I love you." He reminded his friend.

"You shouldn't.” James denied it, “God, I'm a mess, I drag everyone into my shit, and now I dragged you. You- you don't deserve this."

"Hey.” Sam interrupted, “You got some issues, doesn’t mean you're not a lost cause."

"No, but I am.” Bucky’s pitch dropped an octave, managing to express more sorrow and certainty than before, “Not even Brock fucking Rumlow could handle me, he said I was so-“ a hiccup cut his words short, “so damaged that... that not even he- he could stand me."

"He was manipulating you."

"I know, but he's right!” his own words surprised him, and they truly cut like knives, “I'm such a fucking-“

"Hey." Sam cut him off, hugging him from behind.

"I'm-"

"You're my best friend, remember?” He said sweetly, “You're a great guy. And I'm a great guy, so I know what I'm talking about."

Barnes shook his head, "No."

"Just let me hold you, dude."

At the sound of that, Bucky’s breathing calmed a little, realizing there was no convincing Sam of his own self-flagellating thoughts. Sam believed he was good, and perhaps, only perhaps, it gave Bucky a tiny bit of hope. He eventually loosened next to Sam’s embrace, and they accommodated themselves in a cuddle. Sam ran his thumb up and down Bucky’s naked shoulder, as a reminder that he was there.

"You're okay.” Sam whispered soothingly, “You're dealing with stuff. We'll manage."

We. Bucky couldn’t help but warm up at the thought of a ‘we’.

"Thank you.” Bucky croaked, then swallowed with difficulty, “For everything."

Silence and calm being insured, they slept like that, cuddling until morning came.

-

A few weeks ago. The night before.

“Okay, Professor Wilson, you got homework to grade tomorrow.” Bucky groaned humorously as he struggled to hold Sam’s weight on his feet.

The wine they had poured for themselves was long gone, but its disappearance was, at least, ninety percent Sam’s fault. While Bucky’s senses were untouched, even though he was the one whose life was falling apart because of his miserable living situation, Sam seized the opportunity to get absolutely wasted nonetheless, leaving the task of getting his ass to bed in Bucky’s hands.

While Bucky found his friend’s drunk state amusing, leading his tumbling body to the bedroom turned out to be harder than he thought. Sam’s entire weight relied on Bucky’s upper body strength, not to mention his resistance to being babied.

“N’a don’t.” Sam protested.

“Well, you’re drunk.” Bucky sighed.

Sam’s lips curled into a smile and he directed his wine-smelling breath directly towards Bucky’s face, almost taunting him, “Yes’am.” He slurred.

Bucky looked the other way with exasperation before bettering his grip on Sam’s unstable body, losing his patience.

“Come on, man, help me out.” He complained.

Finally, the two managed to cross the door to Sam’s bedroom, and being so close to dropping the dead weight on its bed, Bucky started realizing how tired his own arms were.

“You hittin’ the gym or something?” he mocked, almost out of breath, “Why do you weigh ten times more than the last time I did this?”

“Mmm-maybe I put on old man fat.” Sam said in a grumpy tone, “Like an old man.”

Barnes rolled his eyes while taking a breath to recover his physical strength, “You’re not an old man.”

As soon as he let Sam’s body fall dead on the mattress, Bucky sighed with contempt, yet went back to his babysitting task by leaning down, hovering over Sam’s face.

“Hey.” Bucky put on a stern, yet not serious voice as he pointed a finger at his friend, “I hope you remember this tomorrow, ‘cause I’m about to drop some knowledge, okay?”

Sam’s lost expression didn’t change though, “M’kay.” He mumbled.

“You’re not old.” James began, “You’re a youthful, incredibly handsome man, and any woman would be lucky to have you.”

The hyping words caused Wilson to snort amusingly.

“I bet all of your students drool over you but you’re too much of a good man to even notice.”

This time, they both laughed.

“I dunno…” Sam shook his head, his eyes not really focusing on anything.

“Say it with me. I’m hot.” Bucky demanded.

“’m hot.” The other repeated.

“I’m a catch.”

“I’m a catch!” He raised his voice with a deep, exaggerated tone, clearly concealing his laugh.

Bucky then squinted with amusement, “And I got a fine piece of ass.”

That got the last of Samuel, provoking him a loud chuckle that satisfied Bucky enough to decide his job as drunk-babysitter was completed.

“Alright, go to sleep, hot stuff.” He smiled and stood up straight.

Sam, however, stopped him before he could leave, “Wait. I got some knowledge, too.”

His words were difficult to pronounce, and even more when he struggled to sit. He gave up on trying and simply rested on a more upright position, supported by his forearms. Bucky watch him do his best effort and prepared for the drunk babbling that was certainly about to happen. He crossed his arms and was incapable of concealing his smile.

“Alright, go.” Bucky taunted him.

“You’ve always… been too good for him.”

At the sound of that, Bucky’s smile dropped. He wasn’t expecting a serious chat, and less one about Rumlow. He didn’t know what to respond, and so Samuel went on.

“He’s not even that great, he’s just… so good at lying, he-he made you think he was.” He declared, frowning like he was trying to understand the injustice, “And you-you tried to…I dunno, see the good in him. ‘cause you do that, you find the good in people.”

Sam’s gaze lingered, focused on Bucky’s expression, but it didn’t seem like the drunkenness allowed him to process the fact that Bucky was neither content nor comfortable with the conversation. After a few seconds of silence, Bucky spoke in a cold, partially upset tone.

“Why would I do that?” He asked out of genuine curiosity for Sam’s insight on the matter.

“’Cause you’re good!” The man replied with an instantly escalading smile, definitely not reading the room, but entirely confident in his own words, “You’re the goodest- no, that’s not…” He stopped himself by laughing at his own made up word, finally catching on how unintelligent he sounded.

“Alright.” James cut him off dryly, “Time for bed.”

But Sam was too invested in conveying his strong opinions to his friend, so he barely even heard him.

“His hair is dumb.” He continued naming Brock’s flaws, “And he’s the dumbest guy alive for treating you like that. ‘Cause you, you… God, if I…? If I had you-?”

Before he could stop stammering, Bucky raised his voice and interrupted him.

“Sam, go to sleep.”

Being too wasted to protest or even understand why Bucky was acting in such a way, Sam dropped his head down with exhaustion. He nodded in agreement of the fact that he should go to sleep, and plopped on the pillow behind him.

Sam was too far gone to consider the weight of his words. But even if he was sober, he would never know to what extent what he was about to say would hurt Bucky. Because Bucky had considered it before, years ago. He had thought, in his darkest days, that if only Sam liked men, if only Sam dared to look Bucky’s way like something more than a friend, perhaps Bucky could have had a shot at real love. He fantasized, long ago, that Sam’s love would be a breath of fresh air, that Sam could teach him what respect and real care could mean.

In his brightest days, however, before Brock, he had felt something beautiful. There were no selfish reasons, no wishful thinking, simply… something. Bucky had felt something beautiful towards his best friend, something that made him think perhaps he was capable of beautiful feelings, he was capable of loving selflessly. The problem was that if it ever came out into the light, and Sam found out, he wouldn’t reciprocate, and then Bucky would have risked everything. He decided, eventually, that Sam’s friendship was more important than his hope of becoming the kind of person who felt beautiful love.

That kind of confusion, Bucky hadn’t felt in years. Not since he shoved it all down his throat and pretended he had never even considered Sam as something other than just his best friend.

So, whatever Sam was about to say right there, Bucky refused to hear the end of that sentence.

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: here

Read the previous chapter (On Tumblr): here

Summary: “I’m egging your house for a dare, but you’re parent is a cop and now they’re yelling at me, so I told them you were my ex and you wronged me, and now you’re coming outside, so please just go along with this, I really don’t want to go to jail” AU When Simon Snow agreed to egg some posho’s house, he never thought he’d find himself here - The only thing standing between himself and a criminal charge, the word of a handsome stranger.

Chapter: 4/?

Words: 3,831

Baz

SS (20:14): What are you up to anyways?

ME (20:15): Well, I was reading a book. But now I’m talking to you ... Obviously.

SS (20:15): Oh shit, sorry. I can text you l8r if you prefer. I didn’t mean to bother you.

ME (20:16): No. Don’t worry, you're not bothering me. I wanted to talk to you … You’re far more entertaining than Austen, anyway.

SS (20:16): Okay cool :D

SS (20:16): Austen? Like ... Jane Austen? Is that for school?

ME (20:17): No. Just for fun.

SS (20:18): WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?

SS (20:18): I had to read Pride and Prejudice for the GCSEs. It nearly killed me!

SS (20:19): I’ve never really been the best at reading, but that just took the piss! I swear to God, I didn’t understand like half of the words!

ME (20:20): That's understandable, to be honest. I will admit that the language can be a little 'flowery' at times. If you’re not really into reading, Austen isn’t exactly the most accessible literature. The stories are good though.

ME (20:21): Did you watch the film?

SS (20:23): Yeah, no kidding. I despised that fucking book!

SS (20:23):  And, kind of. We watched, like, half of it in class, but we never finished it - Ran out of time.

ME (20:24): That’s unfortunate, it's pretty good, as far as adaptations go. I have the DVD somewhere. If I can find it, we could watch it together when you come over, if you’d like?

SS (20:24): Aw yeah defo :) That sounds good.

SS (20:24): Are you free tomorrow?

SS (20:25): Not for me to come over dw - I know you want to wait till your dad is away.

SS (20:25): If not dw. I know it’s a bit short notice. Soz.

ME (20:26): Don’t worry. I’m free, as far as I know. Why? What did you have in mind?

SS (20:26): I was wondering if you wanted to come play footie with me?

SS (20:27): Josh and Nathan are out.

SS (20:27): So it would just be us 2.

SS (20:28): If that’s okay with you? I know footie with just 2 is a bit difficult.

Pathetically, my chest surges at the sight of it … Just us two. It’s more than okay. It’s perfect.

BP (20:30): That’s okay, I’m sure it would still be fun - I’d like to come. What time were you thinking?

SS (20:30): 1:30ish. I can do later/earlier if it’s better for you tho.

BP (20:31): No, that won’t be necessary. 1:30 sounds fine.

SS (20:32): Okay good :) The pitch is a few mins away from the home. I could come and pick you up if you like? We could walk down together?

BP (20:32): Is my house on the way?

SS (20:33): Nah. Not exactly. I don’t mind tho it’ll only take, like, 15 mins more.

BP (20:34): I can just drive down to your house. There’s no need for you to go out of your way.

SS (20:34): Oh okay, sure. Sounds good :)

SS (20:34): Lazybones ;)

SS (20:34): Do you need my address?

BP (20:35): Yes, Snow. As talented as I may be, I’m not a psychic.

SS (20:35): Aha lol. Bigheaded much?

SS (20:36): I live on Pallot Road. Number 61.

SS (20:36): Do you know where it is?

SS (20:36): Idk the postcode off the top of my head. Soz.

BP (20:37): Yes, I know it. I’ll be there at 1:30.

SS (20:38): Cool. Can’t wait :)

I falter, unsure of how much of myself I’m willing to give away. I’ve never been good with openness - Hiding behind sharp words, and a false air of indifference. In that respect, I’m Snow’s antithesis. He’s a boy without walls - Open and forthright, to a fault. Defenseless, yet not afraid. I don’t believe that he’s ever tried to conceal any part of himself, around me - Even when we were literal strangers (Which, despite how it may feel, was barely a week ago). And, we’re certainly more than that, now (Well, I hope so, anyway). So why should I keep pretending? Why not just be real? Why not be a little more Simon Snow? I mean, he could hardly fault me for it - That would just be immensely hypocritical.

I type out my response in a rush, staring down the screen critically. Realistically, all I’m doing is parroting him. And while I know that, it feels like something much more. It feels like a partial admission of another truth. Another, much more frightening truth … That Simon Snow appears to have found himself in my affections, in a way that nobody else has before. That being with him makes my heart pulse, and my soul sing … That I’m a helpless, lovelorn fool.

Nevertheless, I scrunch my eyes closed, and hit send quickly (Before my courage, inevitably, dries up).

BP (20:43): Neither can I. It’ll be great to see you again.

————————————————————————————

He’s already standing outside when I pull up to his house. His bronze curls whipping around in the wind, messily, and a hand tracing the hem of his hoodie absentmindedly.

Shyly, I slide out of the car, and pace over to him.

“Good morning, Snow.”

“Hey, Baz!” he chirps, smiling over at me.

“You’re actually ready on time, this time. Congratulations!” I toy.

“Hey! Piss off!” He gruffs, sweeping his hair back, out of his face. “I was three minutes late. That doesn’t even count!”

“Au contraire - It most certainly does count. I was deeply inconvenienced by your casual approach to promptness. I had to sit on the stairs for a whole five minutes ... I looked like a complete prat.”

“Not my problem,” he shrugs. “You didn’t have to wait right by the door, you moron. That is completely on you.”

“Whatever,” I scoff, my face flooding with heat.

He lets out a laugh - Deep and rumbling. “You know for a smart guy, you really are awfully dumb sometimes, Baz”

I roll my eyes dramatically, unable to think up a comeback. Stumped, I decide to move the conversation forwards ...

“Have you got everything you need?” I ask, nodding my head towards the backpack in his hands - Not even bothering to question why he’s chosen to hold it that way.

“Yep. I brought a ball, and everything!”

“Perfect,” I mumble, nudging my hand against his, and pulling the bag from between his fingers. “I’ll just put this in the boot, and then we can go ... Hop on in, Golden boy.”

————————————————————————————

Simon

Baz is ruthless on the pitch (Just like I’d imagined he’d be) - Pelting across the grass at a breakneck speed, and booting goal after goal into the back of the net. Truly, He’s a sight to behold - All straining muscles, and wicked grins. I’d be basking in it … If I wasn’t so bloody annoyed.

He’s absolutely thrashing me (Of course) - 5 to Nil. It’s an absolute disaster on my end, having, apparently, lost any sort of scoring capability. And, to make matters worse, he’s not exactly coy about it - Assaulting me with a constant stream of ' Are you even trying, Snow 's and over-exaggerated, false yawns. Utter prat.

In my desperation, I stick my leg out in a particularly botched attempt at a tackle, accidentally clipping the back of his ankle, and sending him tumbling to the ground. Shit.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, squatting down onto the floor besides him, and flipping him over with a tug to his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry. I was trying to get the ball, I swear I didn’t mean to do that.”

He glares up at me, his full lips twisted into an acrid scowl. My stomach sinks at the sight of it. Shit. I’ve really fucked this up.

But then, he’s chortling heartily (Apparently incapable of maintaining his cruel act, any longer). His face scrunching up delightfully, as his eyes well up with joyful tears.

“What the fuck even was that, you complete barbarian,” he laughs, clutching at his stomach, stupidly. “Couldn’t stand losing, so you thought you’d just try knocking me out instead ... That is definitely a foul, Snow”

“I know, I know. It was an accident though, I swear,” I whine. “Just ... Shut up, and let me help you, you dick.”

I stick a hand out, pulling him up into a sitting position. He’s a mess - Small clumps of mud and grass clinging to his face, and a nasty, bloodied scraze disfiguring his knee. Yet somehow, even with all the marks of my stupidity, he still manages to look infuriatingly good.  

I take his face in my hands gently, tilting it towards mine. The laughter dies out, suddenly - His face falling marginally, as he goes eerily quiet. Unperturbed, I continue my ministrations, brushing my fingers across his face, sweeping away the debris as I go.

“I really am sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“It’s alright, Snow. I was only teasing. I know it was an accident. It’s fine, really, it’s just a little scrape - Nothing a wash and a plaster won’t fix.”

“Okay,” I huff, relieved. “I didn’t bring any with me, though ... But, there’s a first aid kit back at home. We could go and patch you up there?”

“No. If it’s alright, I’d rather do it back at my own house. It’ll be much less awkward that way”

“Oh,” I drone, my voice weak with disappointment. “Sure.”

How the fuck did I manage to mess things up so quickly? We were supposed to spend the rest of the day together (I mean, neither of us ever actually said that, but it was definitely assumed), and now, within one poxy hour, I’ve managed to kill all chances of that. I'm such a bloody idiot.  

“Cheer up, misery-guts,” he giggles, “There’s no need to strop - You can come too. You might just have to sneak in through the window, or something.”

“Okay, sure,” I beam, stupidly elated. “I can handle that.”

————————————————————————————

Baz

As it turns out, he really can't handle it.

“Christ, Snow,” I hiss. “You’re being way too loud. Shut up.”

“It ain't my fault! I don’t know why the fuck you thought I would be able to climb up this thing properly. It’s made for flowers Baz, not people!”

He has a point, to be honest. I knew that getting him up the trellis would be a challenge, but we didn’t exactly have many other options.

I thrust my hand out of the window, gripping onto his forearm tightly, and shifting my weight to support him properly.

With that, his body starts shaking violently, a poorly concealed chuckle escaping his lips.

“I told you to shut it, moron,” I scold (Although, there is no real malice in it - The smile is clearly audible in my voice).

“I’m trying, really. It’s just - It’s just this is like some shitty version of Romeo and Juliet, Baz. You can’t blame me!” He laughs. “It’s funny!”

“Yes well … Romeo was much more graceful about it than you!”

“Shhhh. I’m doing my best. I’m almost up! You should’ve gotten me a rope or something, it isn’t my fault!”

“Oh yes, Snow,” I deadpan. “Sorry. Let me go and grab the ten foot rope I keep under my bed at all times”

“Hey! I don’t know what kind of kinky shit you’re into! You could've had a rope lying around somewhere!”

I don’t even try and justify that with a response, choosing, instead, to focus on helping him up.

Eventually, we manage to pull him into the room - Snow plopping down onto the floor, with an unceremonious thud.

Laughing hysterically, he props himself up against the wall besides me, and rests his head against the side of my shoulder.

“Thanks for helping me up. I was so scared I was gonna fall back into that stupid rose bush.”

“It’s no problem. I didn’t really fancy having to explain to Father why you, of all people, were sneaking into my bedroom.”

“Hmmm,” he hums, his throat vibrating distractingly, against my shoulder. “You need me to help you with your leg?”

“No. I can handle it … I was going to have a quick shower, actually, if that’s alright with you? Get it properly cleaned up and everything, you know."

“Oh yeah, that’s fine,” He murmurs, lifting his head up, and shifting his body sideways (Away from mine). “What - I mean what am I supposed to do, though? Do you want me to hide somewhere?”

I puff out a breath, amused by his sincerity. “No, Snow,” I drawl. “You don’t have to hide yourself away in the wardrobe. You can just wait around here. Nobody is going to come in - Don’t worry.”

“Oh, right” He mumbles, glancing his eyes down towards the floor. “Cool.”

“Yeah. There’s plenty here to keep you entertained, though. You could play on the PS, or watch some TV … Or, you could read something, I suppose. Although, I know you’re not big on that.”

He smiles over at me, his freckled cheeks puffing out wide. It’s frustratingly adorable.

“Yeah, maybe not that. I’ll probably just watch TV, if that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” I say, jumping up, and treading over to the en-suite door. “I won't be long, though, honest - I’ll be back in half an hour, latest.”

————————————————————————————

It definitely took me longer than half an hour. Although, that was Snow’s fault entirely - His lovely tackle, had left awful clumps of mud matted into my hair, so I had to give it a proper wash.

When I step back into the room (My hair still annoyingly damp), Snow has got himself starfished out across my bed, his chin propped up in his hands. He looks completely at ease, laid out in my bed like that - Even with the, admittedly, rather intimidating decor of my room.

Stepping besides the bed, I scoop his legs up in my arms, and swing them over to one side of the bed - Making room for myself besides him.

“What are you watching then, Snow?” I ask, laying myself down onto the duvet.

“Dunno. Some crap cop show. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“No?” I ask, gasping with faux incredulity. “Would you like to play some FIFA instead? That way I can thrash you again, without sustaining any serious injuries.”

“Don’t be a wanker, Baz,” he scolds. “You know I didn’t mean to do that!”

“I know, I know,” I coo. “I’m only messing with you. Don’t stress.”

He glares at me, pouting his lips out, slightly. “Okay then,” he agrees, a sly smirk spreading across his face. “I actually play a lot of FIFA, you know. So, I reckon I’m going to enjoy beating you … Would serve you right for being such a cocky bastard!”

I raise my eyebrows in challenge, punching out a quick, mirthless laugh. “I’d like to see you try, Snow. Do your worst … We’ll see who comes out on top!”

————————————————————————————

For all my arrogance, I will admit that Snow was actually a very worthy opponent (Although, I’d never tell him that).

Considering that I’d been playing everyday for the last two months, I had assumed it would be an easy victory - But, as it turns out, I was wrong. He put up a more than admirable fight - Actually leading for the majority of the match. But, of course, I still managed to beat him - Hammering in a goal on the ninety-third minute (Much to Snow’s dismay).

“For fuck sakes!” He fumes, throwing the controller down onto the bed, childishly. “I almost bloody had it, as well!”

“There, there, Snow,” I tease, pressing a hand to his shoulder in a mocking comfort. “There’s always next time.”

“Piss off, Baz!” He whines, flopping back against my pillows with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve had enough of this shitty game!”

“Alright,” I breathe, slowly laying myself down besides him, as I desperately try to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside me. “Do you want to play a different game, then?”

“No.”

“Okay,” I drawl, my voice rising with uncertainty. “So … You want-”

“Just wanna stay here for a bit,” he gruffs.

“Okay. We can stay here, then.” I agree, my voice hushed.

As silence settles over us, I steal a glance over at him.

He’s got an arm stretched out over his face (The synthetic material of his football shirt, straining against his broad shoulders, perfectly), and beneath it, I can see the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

Unobserved, I take my opportunity to scan my eyes over him, appreciatively. Sprawled out against my bed, he looks positively obscene. His hair mussed intoxicatingly, where it rests against my pillow, and every revealed inch of skin decorated with constellations of moles. For a moment, I envision pressing my lips against them, lavishing each and every mark with the attention they deserve, but I quickly restrain myself. Allowing my mind to wander now, when he’s so close to me, would be an irreparably idiotic move.

In an attempt to cool myself down, I flutter my eyes shut, and shift my focus onto the steady puff of his breathing - Slow and constant. In and Out. In and Out. In and Out …

————————————————————————————

Embarrassingly, I’m halfway to sleep when he speaks next.

“Baz?” he whispers, poking my arm lightly. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, my voice deep and lazy with tiredness.

“Okay. Cool,” he sighs. “Can - I mean, can I ask you something?”

“Hmmm. Of course” I hum.

“It's just that, I’ve been thinking … Did - Did you mean what you said the other day?”

I scoff, quietly. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific, if you want me to answer that, Snow.”

“Right yeah. Obviously,” he huffs, clearly frustrated.

Opening my eyes, I tilt my head over to look at him - Our eyes meeting immediately. His deep blue boring into my grey. This close, it’s far too intense.

Caught off guard, and humiliatingly wonderstruck, I avert my eyes, focusing my gaze on the canopy of my bed, instead. I feel my face flush with heat, once again, and pray to God that he doesn’t notice. That would be the last thing I need, right now.

“I just - I mean what you said to your dad,” he continues, stammering slightly.

“What bit?”

“When you were all like - 'Oh don’t worry Father, he's one of mine',” he explains, making an absolutely atrocious attempt at mimicking my accent. “I just mean like - Do you really have lots of, like - I don’t know ... Guys?”

“No,” I drone. “There’s no one else ... Never has been. I just said that to get him off of your case. He doesn’t really like talking about that stuff, so I figured it would be effective.”

“Oh,” He breathes. “Okay.”

I pause, unsure of what else to say. The silence stretches between us painfully - Tangible tension flooding the air. And then, I feel it. It’s barely a brush at first - Easy to play off as a simple accident, given our close proximity. But then, he continues. Pressing our hands together more fervently - His skin impossibly warm against mine. It’s searing - The contact lighting me up from within, as hopeful sparks ignite within me.

I gulp, audibly. “Why?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“Just - I’m just like … Curious, I suppose,” he murmurs, his finger tip tracing it’s way along the side of my thumb. It’s feather-light, but it weighs like lead in my heart. And I think that, maybe (just maybe), he might be trying to tell me exactly what I want to hear.  

He presses on, nervously, his voice wavering slightly. “It’s just that -”

Suddenly, there’s a banging at the door - Loud and insistent.

Panicked, I shove him off of the bed, sending him flopping onto the floor with a girlish yelp. Biting back a laugh, I rush over to the door, and pull it open ever so slightly.

“Basilton. Dinner is ready. I don’t know what on earth you’re doing in here, making all that racket, but you need to come downstairs now,” Father chastises.

“Of course. I’ll be down in just a minute.”

“Alright. Hurry down though. Please don’t keep us all waiting. We don’t want to start without you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Father,” I taunt, my tone laced with sarcasm. He’ll definitely lecture me about that later (He’s never impressed with my 'petulant attitude'), but, right now, I don’t particularly care.  

Closing the door behind him, I scurry over back to where Snow is sat.

“You have to leave,” I whisper, rushing out the words with a frightful urgency. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time. You just - You really have to leave. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone ... So, you can't really stay.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hushes. “It’s fine. Don’t stress. Do you want me to go right now?”

“No,” I cry. “Just - Wait until I’ve been down at dinner for a few minutes - Then you can leave … That way, you can be certain nobody will be creeping around outside.”

“Okay, sure.” he says, smiling over at me.

Looking at him - I hesitate. “But - Are you sure you’ll be okay climbing? If you’d rather wait, I’m sure that I can find some other way to sneak you out, a little bit later. I could say I'm going out to the bin, or something. If you were quiet, we might be able to get away with it.” “Baz,” he sing-songs, teasingly. “I’m sure I can climb down without your help. It’s only one floor.”

“Yes well,” I deadpan. “Forgive me for thinking it may be best to find an alternative route. You didn’t exactly dazzle me with your speed or grace in getting up here.”

He snickers, squinting his eyes at me daringly.

“Yeah, but it’ll be easier going down. So chill. I can handle it - Trust,” he reassures. “You’ve seriously gotta go and get your dinner now, though. If your dad comes stomping up here to yell at you, it’s game over for me! And then fussing over this would've been entirely pointless”

“Okay,” I huff, standing and pacing over to the door, reluctantly.

Flashing him a quick smile, I call out a quiet “Message you later, Snow,”, and then, I leave him.

————————————————————————————

I’m just tucking into my dinner, when an almighty crash tears through the hush of the dining room. Of course, I know what it is immediately - Simon bloody Snow falling off of that god-forsaken trellis.

Fucking hell. I knew I should’ve tried to sneak him out another way.

I mean, what if he’s hurt himself? It’s not exactly a steep fall, but it’s certainly enough to do some damage. And the only reason he is even here, is because of my stupid, desperate plot to get to spend more time with him - And now, he's probably laying out there with a broken leg, or something. God. I'm such a selfish dolt.

Anxiously, I slide my phone out of my pocket, beneath the table, and hurry out a quick text.

ME (19:27): Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Do you need help?

I wait, holding my breath as my leg bounces under the table, impatiently.

SS (19:28): Nah. Don’t worry. I’m good.

SS (19:28): I might’ve killed your flowers tho :/

SS (19:28): Sorry!

I smile to myself privately - Doing my best to hide my grin behind my hand.

That bloody disaster is going to be my undoing, I swear.

[jungshookz]

You know what would be great???? Culinary student! Jin and a hopeless y/n who eats ramen out of coffee pots and eats cool whip straight out of the can. Also ily and I hope you know that

→ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

→ genre: what a surprise it’s bratty!y/n, culinarystudent!jin and his fancy pasta, humour, a touch of nsfw because i’m obsessed with jin’s broAd shoulders it’s almost ridiculous

→ wordcount: 3.4k

→ note: i hope i did ur request justice also i love u more :~)))

(gif isn’t mine!) ((also i was going to use a gif of him actually cooking but tumblr refusEd to accept it so i’m sorry)) 

listen

being completely honest

jin thinks you’re really cute

like SUPER cute

like he’s really REALLy frickin attracted to you because you’re just so??? yOU and somehow it works and it gets his gears GRINDING okay

you were the one who moved in right next door and you greeted him with a friendly smile and a ‘here, i baked cookies!’ and of course he accepted the cookie because he’s not a complete monster

but good GOD

that cookie was awful

and to be fair he’s a culinary student so it makes sense that he has high standards but even a fOOL would know that your cookies were god-awful

before you got the chance to distribute your nasty cookies out to the rest of the people on your floor jin was like hEY hEY how about you give me.,.,,. all of your cookies,.,.. because i,.,. really like them.,.,., and.,., i want to eat.,.,. all of them.,., thank u., yes,.

anyways

you’ve known each other for almost eight months?

and nothing has happened because let’s be real

you’re both wussies

and no one’s admitting anything to anyone so you’re kind of in this flirty-friendly space and you’re both FULLY aware that there’s like.,.,. a sprinkle of flirting going on.,,

but you know what

that’s beside the point

he doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about his undeniable crusH on you

because right now all jin can focus on is the fact that you’re eating ramen out of a coffee pot

let him repeat himself

you’re eating ramen

out of a

a COFFEE pot

you’re in the middle of rambling to him about your day and he’s trying to pay attention to what you’re saying but he wants to scream every time to pause to sluRP out of the coffee pot

laundry room gossip is a pretty normal thing for you two

you’re both so busy during the day

you with your classes and jin with his culinary classes

so once or twice a week you’ll both coordinate a time to come down and do your laundry together (you guys usually shove all your clothes in together because u end up saving some $$ too) and you’ll both end up sitting there for a couple hours just talking to each other while waiting for your clothes

jin raises a brow before pressing his lips together

his mother raised him not to be judgemental but COME ON

RAMEN

out of a COFEE POT??????

out of all the things he’s seen you done this has to be the absolute worst

here are a couple of examples as to what monstrosities you’ve exposed him to:

a cold pizza sandwich (two slices of cold pizza with a drizzle of ranch and crunched up cheetos as the filling)

cereal eaten out of the baG ITSELF (u poured the milk in and everything)

chicken pancakes?? aka shredded deep fried chicken and shredded cheese mixed inTO pancake batter and panfried and then topped with a dollop of sour cream and a sprinkle of green onions

one time you made scrambled eggs in a mug and dat shit looked nasty

but this

this doesn’t even make sense

disrespecting what looks like a pretty high-quality coffee pot (he remembers you got it for christmas or something) by using it as a holder for $1 ramen

it’s probably going to stink up the coffee pot and every time you make coffee it’s always going to have that faint aftertaste of chicken broth

a shudder goes down his spine and he winces

you perk up when the drying machine suddenly beeps and stops rumbling “god finaLLy”

jin keeps his eyes glued on the damn coffee pot as you set it down next to your basket and go to retrieve your freshly-dried clothes

you bend down and pop open the dryer and the loud hiss makes jin look over

“jin?” he glances away quickly and looks up at the ceiling as a poor attempt to conceal the fact that he was totally just checking u out just now

“hm, what?” he clears his throat

“aren’t you going to come and get your clothes?”

“oh, right.” jin pushes himself up off the ground and grabs his basket

he props it up on his hip and starts picking out his clothes from the pile

“hey, these are cute.” jin can’t help but smirk as he twirls a burgundy thong around his finger

your cheeks flame up immediately

“cut it out, you perv” you scowl playfully and grab it from him quickly

the little voice in the back of your mind can’t help but wonder if perhaps jin would be interested in seeing you wear the thong

it comes with a matching bralette

hm

“ya-“ jin pokes your arm and you look over at him “was that your dinner?” he points to the coffee pot and you glance over at it “didn’t you have ramen yesterday?”

“…yeah. instant ramen has been my dinner every day for the past week. why?” you hum nonchalantly and continue picking through the pile

you help jin out and toss one of his white t-shirts into his basket

jin can’t help but let his jaw drop

you’ve been eating processed garBAGe for the past weEK

how???????????

“it’s never enough for me tho so i usually eat a bag of chips too. i might have a frozen mac n’ cheese thingy in the freezer so that’s an option too.” you gasp excitedly “ooh i can crumble the chips over the mac n’ chee-“

“oh my god.” all of a sudden jin reaches over and puShes the rest of the clothes into his basket before grabbing your wrist and dragging you towards the door

“hey, we haven’t finished sorting out the-“

“we’ll do it later i just need to get some actual foOD into your system before all the MSG and sodium starts breakING down your internal organs”

as he’s dragging you up the stairs (the elevator is broken again what a surprise) you can’t help but admire how b r o a d his shoulders are

the cotton shirt he’s wearing is kinda thin and u swear u can see his back muscles flexing slightly

you can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like

running your hands all along his back

digging your nails into his shoulders as he,.,,., y’know

wrapping your legs around his tapered waist as he.,,.,.,. y’knOW

s i g h

you purposely pull back a little so jin slows down and gives u more time to ogle him

are you a pervert for doing that

you might be

“let me see what’s in your fridge so i can work my magic”

he’s never actually been in your apartment before

well

he’s never had a reaSon to

(you always wanna invite him in to watch a movie or something but u get shy and shrivel up immediately)

he has a good idea of the layout because his place is exactly the same as yours

he’s not surprised to see that your place is relatively neat and organised besides a couple scattered markers on the coffee table and a throw blanket tossed haphazardly over the couch

there’s a candle burning away in the middle of the coffee table that makes your place smell like warm vanilla

but then

he enters the war zone

the kitchen

oh my god

this is a living nightmare

this is HIS living nightmare

there’s just

he sees all the takeout boxes in the bin and the pizza box sitting on your kitchen island and the- well that must’ve been your breakfast or something because you sprinkled cinnamon toast crunch on a bagel smeared with waY too much cream cheese

“oh hey i forgot about this” a piece of jin’s soul dies and floats up to heaven when you pop the rest of your cinnamon-cream-cheese-bagel monstrosity into your mouth and chew thoughtfully

why does he like you

“ah, i probably should’ve offered you a bite… i’ll make one for you tomorrow if you want!”

whY DOES HE LIKE U

“i’m… good. i think i’m more than good.” he shudders before nudging past you heading to your fridge “lemme see what we’re working with here…”

“you know you really don’t have to make anything for me. i told you i had a frozen mac and cheese…” you’re rambling and jin is most certainly not paying attention to you mainly because he’s shocked becAUSE you have like NOTHING in your fridge

a bottle of three-cheese ranch

a couple oranges, an avocado, and one red apple

a half-eaten sandwich?? it looks like turkey and a shitload of mayo

a takeout box with…,,. three pieces of orange chicken and a piece of broccoli that you’ve taken a bite out of

a baby carton of chocolate milk and a regular sized carton of milk

and a can of cool whip

unless he makes an orange-chicken-turkey-avocado sandwich with ranch on the side accompanied with a glass of chocolate milk with a dollop of whipped cream on top there’s not a lot he can do here

is thiS how you live

“you know what, maybe you should just come over to my place!” jin closes the fridge and clasps his hands together “yeah, let’s do that.”

“what do you mean?? i have plenTy of food in my fridg- okAy” you stumble over your feet when jin grabs your wrist and drags you away from the fridge

when you enter jin’s place he pushes you down on the couch and you nearly bounce off of it “you stay here, and i’ll whip something up for us.”

as he turns to head towards his kitchen he hears a vioLent schrrr

he turns back around and your finger freezes on the nozzle on the whipped cream canister

“wha- where did you even hiDe that” jin furrows his brows and you shrug before squirting some more into your mouth

“you sure you don’t need any help??” you’re already bored and you’ve only been here for less than a minute

“i don’t want you burning down my kitchen, so i’m good.”

“but i’m boRed and i’m hunGRY” you whine and flop back against the couch

jin raises a brow before bending down and grabbing the remote

he turns the tv on and it just so happens to be playing the late-night cartoons

perfect for a petulant child like you

miraculously jin gets 20 minutes of peace and quiet until he hears you whining again about how hunGry again

that’s what happens when you eat nothing but empty calorie foods

your eyes light up with excitement when jin emerges from the kitchen

he has a rag tossed over his shoulder and a grey apron hanging around him that you assume is from his culinary school

his cheeks are kinda pink from the heat of the kitchen which is adorable

he sits down next to you and you turn to fully face him while crossing your legs

he hands you the plate

wow

“….do you go to culinary school or something?” you tease and jin snorts

the pasta’s been plated into a loose nest and there’s a pretty little basil leaf sitting on top

“chicken, bacon, and spinach spaghetti. and since you’re a whipped cream freak we can have assorted berries and whipped cream for dessert.”

“assorted berries.” you mock quietly and jin scowls playfully before handing you a fork

he doesn’t know why but he’s a little bit nervous lol

like he KNOWS he’s good at cooking but for some reason he feels like he’s presenting a dish to gordon ramsay or someone of that calibre

you twirl a bit of pasta around the fork and shove it into your mouth

and you didn’t think it was possible

but you’re pretty sure your mouth is having an orgasm

HOLy shit

fireworks are going OFF

the bacon has retained its crisp

the spinach is wilted but not toO wilted that it’s falling apart

the chicken is so soft and tender

the spaghetti is cooked *ahem* al dente

and the sauce!!!!

it’s so creamy

so flavourful

you swallow your bite and blink down at the plate of pasta

“what’s wrong?”

“this is…. almost too good.” you mutter and poke at a piece of perfectly cooked chicken before stabbing into it and popping it into your mouth

jin’s cheeks warm with pride as he watches you continue to eat

“it’s almost as good as my frozen mac n cheese meals.” you joke and jin resists the urge to smack you with his rag

it doesn’t matter if you’ve eaten 20 pounds of food for dinner because you’ll always aLWAys have room for dessert

especially if dessert involves whipped cream

it’s healthy-ish!! it’s basically dairy and don’t u need dairy for strong bones or something

and strawberries and blueberries are fruit

and fruit is healthy

so if you really think about it assorted berries and whipped cream is the ideal combo if u wanna get in shape

jin doesn’t trust you with the canister of whipped cream (because he’s 100% sure you’re just going to hog all the cream and squirt all of it into your mouth) so he’s squirting some out onto a particularly juicy looking strawberry that he knoWS you want to devour

he turns and offers it to you and your mouth opens automatically as you lean forward to take it into your mouth

“hold on now.” your brows immediately knit together when he pulls away juSt as you’re about to take a bite “admit it. my spaghetti is much better than your stupid mac n cheese meals.” there’s a glint of playfulness in his eyes as he points to his ear and waits for your response

“i dunno. i get the mac n cheese from whole foods so you know it’s good.” you tsk but keep your eyes right on the berry hovering in front of you

“huh. i guess i’ll be enjoying this seasonal japanese strawberry for myself, then.” jin pouts mockingly

“nO i WANT IT“ jin yelps when you’re suddenly clambering over and grabbing his wrist so that you can shoVe the berry right into your mouth

now

a normal person would eat the berry and then return to their seat

unsurprisingly

you are far from a normal person

you keep your hold on his wrist and suck the whipped cream off his thumb after swallowing the strawberry

god have mercy

your eyes flicker up and you see jin staring right at you with parted lips

“…something the matter?”

and within one second

the berries and your trusty canister of whipped cream have both been abandoned in favour for

well

“can’t believe it took you thiS long to make a move” you murmur against jin’s mouth and he responds by nipping at your bottom lip

“says you!” he gawks before proceeding to press kisses down your neck

and you finALLY get to feel his muscles rippLe underneath the soft cotton of his shirt as you slide your hands from his waist to his back

meanwhile jin’s hand has found its home in between your legs and your eyes flutter shut “god, jin…”

“something the matter?” he mocks before pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth “you gonna admit it now?”

“admit wha- oh, jin - admit whaT”

“that my food is better than your frozen TV dinners” you would’ve burst out laughing if it weren’t for the shocks of electricity tingling up your spine

“n-no way-“ your back arches against his chest and your mouth falls open in a silent moan

and suddenly

you let out a pathetic whine when jin’s hand pulls away from in between your legs “fine. i guess we’re done here!” he sits up but keeps your legs wrapped around his waist

god

you are just a vision aren’t you

you’re flopped back against the arm of the couch

your chest is heaving slightly

your cheeks and nice n rosy

“you are the absolute worst.”

“c’mon… say it…”  he hums and slides a finger from your knee cap to your inner thigh

you know for a fact you two aren’t done here because jin’s already hooked a finger into the waistband of your shorts but you’re naturally a veRy impatient person and so-

“fine, you idiot. your food is significantly better than my frozen TV dinners. happy?”

“…i’ll take it.”

((spoiler alert: you are rewarded with not one not two but thREE mind-blowing orgasms for admitting it))

((maybe you should learn to be less stubborn))

“good morning!” jin is startled awake when you plop on top of him with your legs on either side of him “it’s 10 o’clock and i made us some food”

“christ, don’t scare me like that!” jin scolds you playfully and reaches up to pinch the side of your bare thigh

you’re wearing the shirt he had on last night and it’s starting to droop off your shoulder

“good morning indeed.” his voice is thick with sleep and his hand slides up from your thigh to grasp at your waist “whatcha got there?”

“cinnamon toast crunch bagel” you murmur with a mouthful of bagel and swipe at a lil chunk of cream cheese on the corner of your mouth “my wonderful creation that i made fresh for you”

you’re getting crumbs all over jin but he can’t seem to care because the idea of a cinnamon toast crunch bagel makes him want to throW YOU ouT THE WINDOW

he sits up slowly and wraps an arm around your waist before nuzzling into the crook of your neck “you’re lucky i like you otherwise i would throw your wonderful creation righT into the garbage bin right about now.”

you scoff in mock offence and pull away from him before jabbing a sticky finger into his bare (b r o a d) chest

“don’t knock it til you try it!!”

“the day i try one of your inventions is the day i- mmph!” you shut him up and shove the last bite of your bagel into his mouth before clasping your hand over his mouth so he can’t spit it out

jin chews slowly

and swallows

what the hell

that actually..,,. that tasted good

“that was okay, i suppose. kinda sweet. but i can think of something that might taste a little sweeter.” before you know it jin is flipPing you over and you find yourself pinned underneath him

you’re a giggling mess because you’re trying to get the cream cheese and sugar particles off your fingers but jin is being very vEry distracting

“hOLd on a second sir i have breakfast waiting for us in the living room!” jin’s already made his way down your chest and is about to set up shop in between your legs

he looks up at you before offering you a cheeky grin “…i’m in the mood for breakfast in bed, aren’t you?”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

masterlist

[bigsnzstanacct]

The King’s New Allergy (1-3/5ish I think?)

Okay this is the last one I’m gonna post for a bit I think. Male, Mer/lin fanfic if  you squint maybe, not quite gigantic sneezes but also WILDLY unrealistic in volume.

---

I. The Night Watch

“Ha-ehhhh… ehhhhhh… hHHEEEEHHHHHhhh…”

I could practically see the castle walls shaking. I was on the king’s watch, posted just outside his bedchamber. Ordinarily the night’s watch over the king’s chamber was an uneventful, easy enough job. But that was ordinarily. And these were hardly ordinary circumstances.

“hheeeEEHHH! EEEHH! HEH! HEHH! HEHHH!”

“ ‘ere he goes again…” complained Caspian, the guard assigned the watch with me, rolling his eyes, and covering his ears, for all the good it’d do. “Whole castle’ll be wakin’ up five hours early in three… two…”

I did likewise, covering my ears in preparation for the explosion.

“HUUUUUUUHHHHHH…”

“…one…”

“HUUURRRRRRRRRSSSSCCCCHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” The king fairly roared.

I heard more than one started yelp in the aftermath of the king’s sneeze. But those were faint, only perceptible to an elite guard like myself, trained to notice all manner of slight, subtle noises. The king’s sneeze, however, was neither slight, nor subtle. It was a veritable war-cry. Worse than a war-cry, I myself had heard the king’s war-cry and it had nothing on his all-consuming, castle-awakening, sleep-destroying…

“HHHHHAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRSSCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEEEEYYYYYY!!!” Our Vesuvial monarch erupted again, adding an involuntary—surely involuntary, he SWORE up and down it was involuntary—scream to the end, in case the body of the noise hadn’t been sufficient.

“How long y’think ‘e goes on this time, Damien?” Caspian asked, nodding towards me.

Frankly, on the strength of that first wall-rattling sneeze, he was either going to blast the irritation out in four or five full-strength sneezes, or else…

“Sounds like ‘is nose is tickled right good, my friend.” I confessed, shaking my head, “I’m afraid it’ll be a long night for all of us. We’re in for more fits tonight. And he’ll be in a right mood in the morning. It don’t let him sleep anymore than it does the rest of us. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this allergy of the King’s was more than an allergy…”

“AAAAAAAAEEEERRRRRRRRRRSSCCCCHHHHHHHHUUUUHHHHHHHH!!” The nasal bombardments continued, that one less vocal, more nasal, still a wall of sound that surely awoke what precious-few castlefolk had managed to cling to sleep through his first two sneezes.

“Arrrggghhhhh… and you know if ‘e sneezes all nigh’, ‘e’ll prob’ly sneeze half the day too… that’ll be no sleep for us either.”

“Says you,” I replied, “I sleep down in the lower town.”

“You’re telling me, you can’t hear those great big galumphing—“

“AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

“That. You’re telling me you can’t hear that down in the lower town?”

“Well, of course you can. But you know my brother does a bit of the…” I wiggled my fingers a bit, to indicate the forbidden: magic.

“Warded the house ‘ave you? Smart one.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Caspian, you can still hear ‘im if it’s a really big one. But it’s faint, an’ I’m a plenty heavy sleeper when I want to be.”

“HaahHHH… AHHH-HHOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRSSCCCHHHHHHHH!!”

“Gods, that was a big one!” Caspian exclaimed, “Even after all this time, ‘e still shocks me with how big they are. I know it’s a whole ‘thing’ with the royals, the whole sneezing like the thunder thing. Lord knows the princess could rattle the walls good before they married ‘er off to whatever kingdom she’s gone to, but…”

“EEEEHHHHHHTTTSSSSSHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“But even Princess Eleanor couldn’t compare to this,” I finished for him. And it was true, she couldn’t. None of them could. In fact, before this whole… thing started happening, I’d personally thought the whole “descended of Jupiter with sneezes of the thunder” thing was a great crock of shite. Not that I blamed them of course; royals had to have some mystique to maintain their legitimacy, and the gods know I’d worked under worse kings as a sell-sword, before I found my place here. But still, seemed like another load of royal horseshit. Until a fortnight prior, when the king had been plagued with the most terrible allergy that seized upon him and wrung out of him sneezes that seemed fit to wake the dead… or perhaps to rival the thunder in their volume and violence. It hadn’t been so bad, the first few days. But after that first night, when the allergy refused to leave him, even in his sleep, awaking the king with the most awful irritations—who subsequently woke the entire castle with the most awful sternutations—the people of the castle had been less than enthusiastic, turning to barely-concealed rage. Lack of sleep did that to a castle. It wasn’t every night, of course, and it wasn’t as though the king sneezed constantly through the night, but… it was certainly enough to set the entire castle on edge. And this, the third night in a row? Well, blessed be the gods for gainful employment solely at night.

“AAAAARRRRRCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” The king thundered again.

“That one sounded tuckered out!” Caspian exclaimed, “y’think that means he’ll taper off soon?”

I shook my head. “It was a bit smaller than his usual but… mark me, we’ve got plenty left in this fit of his. If the gods are kind—“

“HHEEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR-CCCHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” And there was the loudest sneeze yet, perhaps the loudest I’d heard from him since the whole business began. I nearly jumped in fright, and poor Caspian leapt fully into the air. He was only lucky he stifled his squeal of shock—more than one guard had already been replaced for reacting too noisily to the king’s eruptions. Poor thing. I think it embarrassed the king. He was already suffering, he didn’t need the reminder of how much he was inconveniencing everybody else with his inability to get a hold of his accursed, enormous, explosive, seizing sinuses…

“AAAAAAEEEEEEEEESSSSSCCCCCHHHHHHHHUUUHHHHHH!!”

“If the gods are kind, we’re halfway through. If not… for all we know this fit’ll go straight into the second and we’ll barely get a reprieve for thirty minutes.”

“Gods, I don’t know how you do it.” Caspian said, shaking his head at me, and clutching at his chest, trying to recover from the fright the king had given him. “They really weren’t this bad, during the war? I know you fought in his unit, back when ‘e was just the prince.”

“Oh, well… ‘e sneezed plenty big back then too. Woke us up more than once, tho half the time I think it was on purpose. It was always suspiciously close to time to march. But that…” I shook my head, “that was a bunch of soldiers, sleeping light and sleeping rough, ready for action at any time—you know he had us on the dangerous route, aroun’ through that forest—and sure, ‘e was loud but this is—“

“HHAAAAAAAAA-SHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“This is different. This is worse than I’ve ever heard ‘im, by far. I heard tell in the old days, if ‘e caught cold, you could hear him, real faint, down in the kitchens. But not like… you know old Caliphrea said it sounded to her like he was right next to her bedside. First night she woke up all ready to curtsey and ask what the king was doin’ in ‘er bedchambers!” I chuckled.

“You don’t think…?” Caspian said, looking at me meaningfully and giving a little wiggle to his fingers.

At last he’d got it. I’d been hinting around at it for a while, but. It wasn’t wise to speak too openly about these things. A little enchantment of a bungalow in the lower town, sure. The occasional herbal pick-me-up, a little help with the chores… that much was fine to speak about. That much had changed, since the bad old days, where magic was concerned. But this? Speculating that the king had been ensorcelled? Especially with something like this, something so close to the mythology that had always surrounded the crown? To attribute it to anything other than the king’s royal blood and manly fortitude (at least in earshot of any of the nobility) was unwise, to say the least. But now that he’d said it, I could reveal a bit more of my thoughts.

“HAAAEEEESSSSHHHHOOOOOOOOOO!!! AEEEEESSCCCCHHHOOOOOOOOO!! HUUHHH… AAAATTTTTTTTTT-CCCHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOEEEEEYYYYYYYYY!!!”

Or, at least, I could if the king stopped sneezing long enough for me to be heard over the din. And to think this was only his first fit of the night…

— II. The Head Cook

“EEEEEEAAAAAACCCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

Thank the gods I hadn’t bothered to attempt sleep. Five nights running, and my old bones, and my bad health, I think the king’s sneeze might have shocked me into an early grave! Saints and heavens, louder than ever! And the gods know the king would never forgive himself for that, would probably set that sorcerer of his—not that the king’s manservant was to be referred to as a sorcerer, and wasn’t that peculiar, though it’s hardly the first not-entire-secret-secret that’s gone around this old castle, including the nasty business about the king’s own mother… oh dear me I’m rambling. Well in any case, I’d die of fright, he’d send down the sorcerer to save me and before I knew it I’d find myself an undead cook, cursed to make the king’s favorite pastries for all eternity. Which, after some consideration, doesn’t sound all that bad, especially if the sorcerer fixed my aching hip. I quite like making pastries.

“Ms Caliphrea… ’e’s off again!” Tarran said, as she shuffled into the kitchen, still in her nightgown, looking harried and upset. I should never have told that girl she was my favorite of the maids—she was always seeking me out, more and more since the King’s booming sneezes had started up. She was a sweet girl, but somehow in the evenings she never had the energy to help me mix dough and cut tarts.

“Worse ’n last night!” I said, commiserating as I poured the milk and sugar in with the flour, shortly before the king proved me right with a great thundering

“HHHHHHHAAAEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSHHHHH!!!”

You really could hear him just as clear as bell, as if he’d been right next to me. Though clear as a bell might’ve been something of an understatement. The king’s sneezes—

“HHHERRRRRRRRAAAAAAASSSCCCCHHHHHEEEWWWWW!!!”

—were more like standing inside a great cathedral bell as it was being rung, filling your whole head with sound, resounding and resounding til it was all you could even think of. At least, that’s what they were like lately. The good King’s never been a quiet sneezer, that I can say with a great deal of confidence. Even when he was still the Prince and not a crowned and holy King, he’d still sneeze loud enough that I could hear down in the kitchens. Of course, then his chamber was right above the kitchens, even if a few floors of the castle above. And it was loud, true. (Although I might exaggerate the tale a bit, that’s my right as a matriarch of this castle!) But back then he wasn’t being heard in the lower town, I know that; no one sneezes that loud. Or no one did, because these days…

“EEEEEEEAAAACCCCCCHHHHOOOOOOOOOO!!!! HAAAAAACCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!! HHHHAAAEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“Auuggghhh…” Tarran moaned, “I’m just so tiiiiiiired, mum. I don’t mean to complain but…” She flopped down onto the counter, rather dramatically. I must’ve been tired myself because I’d ordinarily scold her for such behavior, but I just nudged her over a bit, so I could get at the rolling pin. The first dough, that I’d made earlier in the night, would be rested and ready to roll out soon.

“But it’s just… does the King have to sneeze so loudly?” she whined, “I’m half-deaf, mum! And my sis, she works in the stables and she says it frights the horses so they’ve got to keep someone to the stables all the time and if his sneezin’ didn’t wake the stablehands as much as it does the horses…”

“He can’t help it, you know that,” I said, giving her a gentle pat on the head. “If he would, he could. The King loves his people. You know he’d do anything to make things better for us. I’ll bet the king has tried five or six times to exile himself til he gets his sneezing under control. But we need him here—”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-EEEERRRRRRRRSSSSCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“MERCY!” I yelped, “that was a loud one even for ‘im! Must’ve been brewing in there for a while… now what was I saying, Tarran?”

“Blah blah blah he’s a good king and he loves us and we need him here. I don’t care, mum, I just wanna sleep!”

“Now Tarran—”

“HHHEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRSSCCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!”

The king sneezed again, with a scream at the end that rattled like the thunder. In fact, that’s exactly what it sounded like, like the King was a one-man storm, like a clap of thunder…

“Mum?” Tarran asked, tapping at my shoulder. “Mum, you were saying?”

“I was… I was saying…”

“HEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAASSSCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” The King sneezed again.

“Tarran. Tarran, have I ever told you the tale of our royal family and the great gods of Olympus?”

“The great who’s of a-what-ness??”

“The gods of Olympus… Jupiter, the King of the gods. Our royal family is descended from the god of…”

“AAAAAAAAARRRRRREEEEEESSSSSCCCCCHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Louder still. It seemed that the King’s roars were louder than thunder, louder than ever…

“Tarran… in the morning… go and fetch the physician, will you? Tell him that old Caliphrea wants to see em. Tell ‘im it’s important, and to come right away.”

“YYYEEEEEESSSCCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! HEEEESSCCHHOOOOOOOOOO!!! AAAAARRRREEESCCCHHHHH!!! HEESSCCCCHHHH!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYEEEEEESSCCCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

“Oh by the gods!” Tarran exclaimed. “How is he doing that? If I sneezed that loud I’d… I’d blow up! It’s impossible! D’ye hear that mum? How are any of us supposed to sleep with the King storming away up there…”

I put an arm around her, going back to rolling out my dough before cutting it and putting it in the oven. The storm was over for now, you could always tell after a big fit of sneezes like that. “There there child. Run along now and catch some sleep before he starts up again. You know the King’s manservant has been called back to the castle; between him and that old physician of ours, we’ll have the King fixed right up in no time, isn’t that right?”

“Yes mum. I’m sorry… I don’t mean to speak ill of the King I’m just… I’m just so tired…”

“So run along now, and get your rest. Odds are he’ll start up again before the sun rises. Get in your winks while you can.”

“Yes mum. I hope it’s a long time before he starts up again this time. Me poor ears can’t take much more!” She whined, giving one last forlorn look back at me before she slunk back to her chambers for a bit of rest.

For me, I had plotting to do. I knew the old physician knew of the stories, the legend of the power of Jupiter and all that. All us of a certain age knew the fairytale. But not all have been in this castle as long as I have. Not all remember how the stories can come true. And besides, I had baking to do! And he was going to start up again soon. If I needed my rest, I’d take it during the day while the maids spread the food throughout the castle. Of course, the King had taken to sneezing more and more during the day as well… but with any luck, between my old stories and the physician, and the King’s sorcerer heading back this way… hopefully our nightly disruptions—and our exhausted King—would be set right soon enough.

“Sneezin’! Of all things, sneezin’!” I chuckled to myself, “Well, wonders never cease around here. I’ve certainly seen worse.” I murmured as I cut the dough and carried it towards the ovens. — Bugger. Blighter. Codswollop. Addlepate. Nincompoop. Stubborn old never-changing know-it-all arrogant clotpole of a king!

“AAAAEEEEEEEESSSSCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

And damn near the most attractive man in the whole history of the planet!

It was enough that he’d lied, said he was fine, said it was just a little allergy, said it was no worry at all if I went out on a quest, said he’d deal with it, said he’d solve the issue just fine on his own… and never even bothered to think that he might keep up the entire kingdom! That was all enough, but that the problem I was now—finally—called upon to solve was so gods damned distracting…

“HHHHAAAAAAARRRRRRAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“Bloody hell, they’ve gotten louder! Ohhh, you don’t know how much you’re helping me with this sleeping draught, er, I mean, this sleeping medicine." The old villager assured me. And ordinarily I would be gracious and more than glad to help but right now all I could offer him was a distracted,

“Oh, yes, of course, uh…”

For all I knew, he was nattering on in the background, joking about the draught or magic or the sneezes but oh the sneezes were all I could focus on, all I could think about, waiting for the next one to strike wondering how each one was impossibly louder than the last, standing on edge, hoping I’d be able to hide my reaction to the next gigantic, impossible, ridiculous, practically supernatural:

“WWWWWWHHHHHHHHAAAAAAASSSSSHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEEEEYYYYYY!!”

“Bloody hell, he’s putting me on!” The words leapt from my throat before I could contain them but by all the gods if it didn’t seem like he was making them louder, more vocal, more desperate just for me…

I had to get out of here, preferably without visibly adjusting myself.

“Alright, so nice to talk to you but I’m afraid I’ll have to go, of course I’m glad to help you, as the King’s Right Hand it’s my duty to help everyone in the kingdom but especially our beloved capitol citizens and..”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAASSSSHHHH-HHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“Oh by all the gods that was a bellow, he’s practically roaring them…” I bit my fist. Apparently whatever cursed robbed him of control of his nose left my mouth similarly uncontrollable. Who would have thought I’d ever have a secret to conceal from the people more than the magic? And yet, here I was shuffling out of a house, grateful for once for the abundance of robes our damned “apothecary” insisted I wear, because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could restrain myself from reacting to the constant eruptions coming from the throne room, where I knew he was attempting to hold court, but couldn’t because his nose, his beautiful nose, his itching, twitching, out-of-control, world wonder of a nose wouldn’t let him conduct state business, was more demanding, more powerful even than a king, forcing him to surrender every few moments to another magically-amplified:

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAARRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

He was always a loud sneezer. I wouldn’t say that was the first thing that attracted him to me. No, that wouldn’t even be true. But I wouldn’t lie and say I didn’t notice it either. He’d get colds, back when I was his manservent, and I would tend to him and try so hard to pretend every great galumphing roar of a sneeze didn’t make me want to swoon. And the servants, the kitchen staff, even the knights would laugh and joke that he had the sneezes of thunder, that they could hear him all over the castle and into the lower town, well… it might have been a joke then, but it certainly wasn’t now. Neither the range of his boistrous sternutations, nor their thunderous source.

“AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRAAASSSSSSSHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“Gods!” I cried out, unable to restrain it. The townsfolk would think, there goes the King’s Right Hand, as annoyed with him as the rest of us are. But annoyance was as far from my mind as the King was from his senses when he sent me away, in the midst of what I knew was not some ordinary ailment. Even before they’d grown to their present titanic scope, I knew there was something unusual about this new allergy of his, something stronger, deeper. I almost felt my magic react—of course, I figured it wasn’t exactly my magic that was pulling me to stay with him, care for him. These things can be hard to tell apart. Apparently it was both.

Was it three? Five? Ten? Twelve? Seventeen? more roaring sneezes he released on my walk from the lower town up to the castle? I couldn’t keep track, distracted by how desperately I wanted  to go either to him, or to my chambers; to comfort him, or to relieve the ever-mounting tension I felt every time he—

“HHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“By the ancient—!” another bitten off curse. It was as though I was walking through a wall of sound. The shockwave of his sneeze felt as though it bodily pushed me back, washed over me like a wave. Was it my magic that was tingling my skin or was it just… me? These things could be hard to tell apart. But no, no time to focus on that. How ironic that this of all things would be the most successful attack on the kingdom in years, practically decades. How could anyone have known between his pride and my predilections, we would find this perhaps the hardest to break of all known curses?

I had trained. Trained ceaselessly, trained til I had control over my magic that I could only have dreamt of as a younger man. (And did, actually). And as such, ordinarily breaking such a curse—powers of the ancient gods notwithstanding—would be… well, if not child’s play, certainly achievable. But as desperately as I focused on the needs of our Kingdom, there was always a tendril, and edge of my dumb desire, that I could not will into the spell. To break a curse like the King’s “allergy,” one bound up in centuries old magics even I knew more by feel than by fact, would take all my concentration, all my will. But I could not bend all my will to the containment of these eruptions he called sneezes, not when there was still a part of me that found nothing in all the world more attractive.

But I had to put that out of my mind as I passed through the castle halls. I was approaching our apothecary’s chambers. My old Druid rival, turned a friend. Still, friend though he might be, I knew better than to trust him with a secret like the real reason I was unable to break this curse—the mockery might literally never end. Still, I had to suppress a shudder when the King sneezed just as I passed by the Audience Chamber, where he was still doing his best to conduct offical business.

“W-we shall not see a rihhHHHH… riiHHHHHHHHHHHH… HIIIIIIIIIIIIHHHHHHHHHHH…”

I couldn’t help my curiosity, couldn’t help but peer in to see a chamber full of petitioners and nobles, scribes and scholars, openly bracing themselves, covering their ears, looking at the King’s working, flaring, twitching nostrils as though they were facing down a lance at a tourney, hunkering down in the hopes that their ears would survive another:

“HHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Oh by the g-gaaaAHHHH… gods I… I’m s-sorryaaaAAHHHHHH… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSCCCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! Damn! No rise in the tahhh… tax… oh…”

He sounded so pitiful, so miserable, so utterly at the mercy of the tickle in his nose. The sneezes sounded as though they were wrenched from him, and I cursed myself for my weakness—surely my love for him ought to be strong enough that all of my being would spare him this suffering. Surely that love ought to outweigh that tendril of silly, foolish desire…

“RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH-EEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!”

I couldn’t stand this much longer, caught between the pleasure of the sight and the torment of my powerlessness, not before the King’s new allergy, but before my own stubborn selfishness. Whoever managed to work this curse, to channel the magicks of the King’s bloodline in such a frankly ridiculous way, surely they never could have suspected they would practically grind royal business to a halt, since the king could hardly get through three sentences without succumbing to sneezes that shook the castle to its foundations.

I could only hope that the apothecary had a remedy where I did not. I suspected I was still red in the face when I arrived at his chambers, to see him standing outside, smirking.

“I see you took some time to check on our monarch and his nasal bombardments,” he drawled, smirk never fading.

I could have asked him how precisely he knew I had taken such time, but I knew that was a question I would do decidedly better not to ask. “Yes, I have.” I replied tersely.

“Oh, the King’s Right Hand is too austere and wise for a bit of ribbing from the Court Physician I see. Alright, alright, we’ll play this your way.” He said, as he ushered me into his chambers. I could hear the laugh in his voice, and despite my very firm pledge never to use magic to harm, or for selfish ends, I quite wanted to curse him into silence. Although that would prevent him from telling me about his remedy, assuming he had one.

“Yes, of course, I have a solution. Never thought I’d be the one to solve a magical malady with you around but I suppose this is why it never hurts to have a backup, hm?” He said, mirth still dancing around his eyes. I perhaps would have succumbed to a desire to at least place a mild hex on him but of course, the King intervened with a—

“EEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRAAAAASSSSSSSHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

It would be undignified, and untrue, to say I had to stifle a moan. It was just surprise.

“Ah, I see the typhoon still rages.” He said, looking up at me under coy eyelashes. “Well, it won’t for much longer, as I have devised a solution!”

I wanted to scream at him to get on with it, but frankly I didn’t trust my voice as another great cracking “HHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRSCCCCCCCCCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” lascerated the air.

“So, we know that you are unable to directly attack this curse. And while there are rituals I could perform—very lengthy and painful rituals which I would not at all enjoy—” his curving lips belied that statement but beyond a raised eyebrow I did not dare comment, “that would separate our King from the ancient Olympian magicks that echo through his bloodline.  Oh, pause for thunder!”

“AAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

I wanted to ask him how he knew that the King was about to sneeze yet again, but so often with the Druid it was better not knowing.

“In any case, while I could accomplish such a ritual, the consequences on our King’s temperament, abilities, and frankly his sheer dumb luck may be unpredictable. Whatever silly hedgewitch stumbled her way into this curse was dealing in forces far beyond her comprehension or abilities. In all likelihood, all of this involves nothing more than an enchantment on some pollenating plant or other that causes the pollen to excite the Olympian magicks with which our King is imbued. All that energy excited, with nowhere to go, what can it do but release. At this point, the King is probably less responding to an allergy than releasing pure Olympian magick in the only way his body knows how. Which I suppose is better than him manifesting lightning bolts, or perhaps the magic itself tearing him in two. Or three. Or five. Or any number of pieces, really, given the nature of wild mag—”

I was about to interrupt him, to demand he get to the point, but of course the King’s nose did it for me: “HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

That one seemed to be the loudest yet. Maybe this theory of magic all riled up with nowhere to go was true. And whatever the magic was, it seemed to be more and more riled by the second.

“So!” he said, either brought back on track by the King’s exp,losion or the impatience he saw on my face, “we could track down the agent causing the reaction, which would presumably involve exposing the King successively to every flower that grows in the nearby region to see which most excites the Olympian allergy, rather than the King’s ordinary sensitivities to pollen, which in turn would involve some sort of measure both of magic and of, well volume…” he continued, his smirk back and wider by the second. He wanted some sort of reaction. I wouldn’t give him one. If I could summon a yawn for myself, I would.

“But then again, the exposure might excite the Olympian magicks too much and well we’ve already discussed the possibilities there… in any case, after much thought, I have finally come to the correct conclusion! It will require your assistance, of course, although in a roundabout way, as you seem to experience some sort of… disability… when it comes to this particular magical circumstance. Our issue is that the King’s wild magick needs somewhere to go. So we shall simply tell it to go to you!”

“To me?!” I couldn’t help but blurt. I had done my best to stay stoic during his explanation—any reaction risked revealing too much—but this was too much. “You mean, when the King sneezes… forever, it will… send ancient Olympian magic into me?”

“Well, not forever. Over time it will… hm… it will establish a flow with your magic. A sort of… channel for the magic to travel. So rather than release in a sort of uncontrollable, violent…”

“HHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“…that,” he chuckled, “rather than that, if his magic is excited, it will simply flow into your infinite supply of magic, of which it is already, in some sense, a part. And presumably if you are in regular and close contact with the King, which, as his Right Hand you must be, the magic will naturally flow back to him, in gradual, manageable amounts, which shouldn’t cause such a—”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!”

“--dramatic reaction.”

I couldn’t help but lean against the counter for a moment, as I felt my knees give a bit with that last sneeze. I still had reason to doubt the Druid, although his plan made sense. And he truly was an ally, he’d proven that a thousand times over. Still, his alliegence—as he regularly made plain—was not to our King, much less to our Kingdom, and still less to me, in any real way. His alliegance was to prophecies, to the Old Religion, and some role that my magic—not me, but my magic—supposedly played in their Grand Design. But at present I could have given a flying codswollop about a grand design. All I wanted was to be at the King’s side, and sooner rather than later. And I wanted this problem solved. So…

“Alright. How soon can the remedy be prepared?”

“I’ll need a list of herbs…” he said, brandishing a rather long scroll, “how would you like to relive your former days are the physician’s apprentice, and help me gather these? I couldn’t possibly entrust it to anyone else, and it will help the spell for you to have as much proximity to the ingredients as poss—”

I did indulge myself in a bit of magic to summon the scroll from his hand. I may or may not have also indulged myself in sticking my tongue out at him. Which of course only promptly caused me to bite said tongue when another great rushing

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRCCCHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

—resounded through the castle. The Druid’s face remained placid, smirk constant, but I could tell inside he was quaking with laughter.

“Alright, alright, I’ll gather your ingredients. Just… help him. Please.”

“Of course I shall. I am ever at your service.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” I muttered, as I turned to go, already scanning the scroll for the list of elements needed for this remedy.

“Hm, what was that?”

“HHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you over all that, gotta go!”

And with that I rushed from the Druid’s chambers. I suspected I heard a chortle through the closed door.

[lookwhatilost]

i finished my second watch of bojack s6 p1 and here’s a predictably massive post of some thoughts/observations abt it

spoilers under the cut obviously

the “fuck” of the season definitely came in a moment that i didn’t expect, but i rly liked how it was used. like, it was a callback to when gina dropped it in the last season –– something that traumatized her vs a reaction to her PTSD symptoms. a lot of people seem unhappy w it but i think it’s more powerful than people are giving it credit for being

the gatsby reference in e3 rly brought to mind that there are, like, a lot of gatsby tie-ins w this show and i never rly pasted them together mentally bc of the ubiquity of the “rich guy is utterly depressed and alone” trope. like, the imagery related to the pool, the shallow parties, the yellow car, the spacious but empty house, the billboards staring him down as he drives when he’s hallucinating in s5. charlotte/daisy being a weak parallel in that he had feelings for her when they were younger, held onto them for years, only for her to be married when they reconnect, but it’s worth mentioning that the glow stick balloons were green.

someone on reddit pointed out that jameson’s baby in e1 had physical traits associated w fetal alcohol syndrome. like, short, upturned nose, eyes that are far apart, and low ears. it’s hard to say if it’s intentional, but he’s drawn w a lot more detail than a lot of the other babies i’ve seen in the show. if it’s purposeful, like, that’s amazing attention to detail

i liked how the season opened on a planetarium flashback, because honestly, the immediate aftermath of sarah lynn’s death is definitely kind of glossed over in s3 when it initially happens. and though i suppose the added information isn’t terribly surprising (like him lying abt the events that lead up to her overdose and minimizing his own role in it as much as possible), it did make me wonder why i hadn’t thought abt it before

bojack rly does show signs of serious growth in the 6th season and it’s cool to finally see him move forward w/o simultaneously backsliding in other ways. a lot of his good actions in previous seasons were only rly things that benefitted him. and there are a lot of examples of it, but i think the one that stuck out to me the most was w his therapist. when he fell off the wagon, it’d have been rly easy for bojack to look the other direction and walk away like we’ve seen him do before. realistically, he has no real incentive to care for doctor champ’s wellbeing if he’s no longer staying at pastiches, but he checks him into rehab anyway, and when doctor champ throws his insecurities in his face to be hurtful, he immediately identifies it for the petty jab it is instead of letting it fuel his negative thoughts and using it as an excuse to dive into self-destructive behavior. honestly e6 was the emotional high water mark of part 1, even though it wasn’t the kind of gut punch that the dramatic, narrative focused episodes of bojack tend to be

i’m glad that the writers finally /did/ something w todd that made him feel like an actual character instead of jst a device for the comedy part of the show. i used to watch this show w a friend and we always used to say that todd had very little depth given the amount of screen time he occupies and seeing them move away from that was refreshing. his struggle w jorge is very relatable as someone whose parents have always pushed me towards things i didn’t sincerely want based on their expectations and desires for me vs my actual opinions of what success and happiness would look like for myself. but, on the other side of the coin, there’s finally a little bit of confrontation of the fact that todd’s erratic behavior and shenanigans are very taxing things for people who care abt him to deal w. and todd is rly the only character who’s somehow defied the show’s formula in that he never faces accountability for the things he does. like, he’s enabled PB’s impulsivity many times and drove him to bankruptcy, care of PB Livin’, and it’s a detail in the show that’s never truly been acknowledged or talked abt at all. he fucked PC over when he wouldn’t follow through w his sham marriage to courtney, and it was met w a cheesy speech from her abt how he needs to follow his heart and do what he thinks is right. it always struck me as a weird oversight, and to finally see someone take him to task for how taxing his behavior can be was refreshing. his only other “depth” was the asexual stuff and honestly? that is stupid and does not actually count for anything

if it didnt warm your heart when PC named her daughter ruthie then you dnt have one. i wasn’t as invested in her narrative as i’d have liked to be, but its good when PC is happy and that’s what everyone wants

IM SO GLAD JUDAH IS BACK. also i still hope he and PC end up together (and maybe she has a viable pregnancy this time w him a la sex and the city charlotte but that’s a little too cornball sappy for this show). generally rly enjoyed how characters from previous seasons were incorporated this time around. but i dnt want them to bring back vincent adultman jst to spite everyone who’s always saying “bring back vincent adultman”

pickles is still my least favorite character even tho the surprise wedding episode was probably the one i found the funniest. realistically i wanna see things work out for PB but his relationship w her is obviously not the move for him, and she’s also the worst

i like diane and guy together, they have rly good chemistry but i also have a bad feeling abt where things are headed w them. he seems ambivalent abt how principled she is and the scene where his son comes to the party and he makes her leave when he could have jst introduced her as a party guest if it even needed to happen at all... there was jst something off abt it. like you can definitely see the cracks in the foundation already and it’s disappointing

the scene btwn PB and bojack where bojack says to him “but i understand that feeling of needing to bottle up your guilt, not burden other people w it. you think you’re protecting them from your toxicity, you convince yourself that you’re being selfless, but it comes out in other ways and it infects everything” hit close to home bc it reminded me of someone i used to bond over this show w and like... whew

i rly love how the dominoes are being set up w the reporters (even tho their his girl friday shtick got old fast) bc the way things are culminating, the story getting out is liable to expose bojack for everything. if they approach penny and she talks to them abt what happened, she’s liable to tell them that bojack and sarah lynn went to ohio to find her in the time before sarah lynn overdosed, and the pictures that her classmates took of them could establish a time frame. he was in new mexico when he was supposed to be filming secretariat, and that knowledge could lead to them finding out that he’d been digitally replaced in the movie. when this information gets out, it’s very likely that gina will dogpile onto it w the truth abt what happened on the set of philbert, since trying to conceal her ptsd is actively hurting her acting career bc of the reputation she’s developing as a problem actress, and even though she dznt *want* to be “that girl that got choked by bojack horseman”, she won’t have a choice if she can’t get jobs otherwise. i guess there’s always a chance that penny and charlotte won’t talk to them, but now that hollyhock knows about what happened in new mexico, either way his personal life will be hurt by this. i’m not sure what’ll happen to him professionally, since there’s a recurring point the series has been making w famous people never being held fully culpable for their negative actions, and it’s a dicey thing for them to approach w a character that many viewers find sympathetic without ending on some myopic note abt cancel culture (whether intentionally or by popular interpretation) but im excited

i also hate how my obsessive watching and rewatching of this show meant that the intended pete repeat reveal (like, you’re not supposed to recognize him until his identity becomes obvious through the prom night story) was sort of compromised for me bc i recognized his voice and the second he introduced himself, i placed him IMMEDIATELY but it was still such a great scene. it’s the most tense i remember feeling when watching and an all around great cliffhanger

the final line of e7 comes off as some rly grim foreshadowing–– “it looks like you found solace in our show. stay if you’d like. in 30 minutes, we start over”. but it’s such an incredible line in context. my god, i fucking love this show, you guys

[movienotesbyzawmer]

August 21: Mission: Impossible II

(previous notes: Mission: Impossible)

Not gonna lie, this is without question the Mission: Impossible movie that is remembered most unfavorably by me and, I'm pretty sure, everyone else. My recollection is that they tried SO SO SO SO HARD to make an action movie for Today's Kids; I'm typing this with the title screen of the 4K Blu-ray blasting its turn-of-the-millennium neo-metal version of the classic theme with Tom Cruise running in front of a wall of flame and it's just like come on. Is there even must fun spycraft in this? The first one promised lots of gravely furtive glancing, world-class makeup disguises, and dazzling gadgetry. Did this movie's director John Woo replace those with just way way way too much shooting and chasing and sexy vehicles? That's how I remember it but it's been a couple of decades.

I should probably address this series' exciting approach to director selection. The first one was directed by the legendary Brian De Palma, who brought us Carrie, The Untouchables, and Carlito's Way. Whether or not this one worked out, the trend here seemed to be to choose a respected director with a certain cred that could be imported into the franchise. More on that as this series unfolds. I am now to press play.

Opening scene is about a scientist who injects himself with something while a voiceover teases us with I-already-forget-what.

Oh, he's pals with Ethan; they're on a plane together out of Sydney when some bad-guy shenanigans totally thwart the whole fly-to-the-destination-safely thing. But! It wasn't even Ethan! It was good-ol' makeup fake-outery! It was a heist to take the warn leather pouch that the scientist had.

This I remember - during the opening credits, the REAL Ethan Hunt is climbing somewhere impressive, all freestyle like. All the related supplemental marketing materials never fail to talk up Tom Cruise's penchant for doing his own stunts, but these don't look real.

He then receives a fancy techno-message in a very, very dramatic and action-movie-ish fashion, which is that someone flies a helicopter by his climbing mountain and fires a rocket near him containing message-glasses tech! The voice in the message glasses sounds like Anthony Hopkins. Is it Anthony Hopkins?

Anyway now he has to go to Spain to recruit Thandie Newton and here is where it's already starting to get way too the-style-of-John-Woo. There is a flamenco show and Ethan and TN spot each other across the room. There is SLO MOTION and SPANISH STOMPING and ACOUSTIC GUITAR, and THOSE TWO GAZING AT EACH OTHER. I tell you I do not care for it.

What happens next is TN proceeds to use fancy technology and lockpicking skills to steal a well-concealed necklace. Ethan tags along flirtatiously. She still tries to steal the necklace even though this Lothario, this smarmy but irresistible cad, is trying to distract her with his testosterone.

Ugh, I was very right to remember not liking stuff about this movie. Ethan fails to recruit her at the jewel heist, so he car-chases at her the next day! He calls her during the car chase to irritate/seduce her, and she's all "you'll have to catch me ha ha", and it ends in a nearly fatal crash and then they KISS. The director worked very hard to ensure the kissing was HAWT, and Ethan has now successfully recruited TN for both spy work and boinkage.

Anthony Hopkins! He is in the next scene! That really was him! How did I forget that he is in this movie. This scene where he meets with Ethan and fills him in on everything is effectively expository. But then after he knows what he's gotta do, he walks with INTENSITY and it is in SLOW MOTION next to a BURNING EFFIGY THING with ELECTRIC GUITAR MUSIC GOING ON.

0:33:40 - Oh now it's a little more what I like, with a montage about using spy tech to get Ambrose, the bad guy who was pretending to be Ethan on the plane in the beginning, to track TN. And to further assure us that there is techie-fun to be had, Ving Rhames returns to be that guy for Ethan's team. But there is also time in this sequence for shots of TN walking slowly and looking super pretty. You know, so she can seduce Ambrose. A flowing scarf figures prominently in this imagery. A John Woo Film.

I like that they tricked Ambrose into thinking he is so damn smart for tracking her down. I also like Ambrose's compound on Sydney Harbour, it is a bitchin property.

Scene just happened where Ambrose seriously menaces his friend and uses a cigar-clipper on his finger. Ambrose is a bad friend.

But then they're all at the horse race game, even Ambrose's injured friend, who we learn is named Stemp and who is spying on TN, and Ethan and VR are spying on them all. There are shots of TN doing sleight of hand to steal a tape from Ambrose's pocket and it's pretty good spy-shot stuff.

I guess I should mention that there's one more guy on Ethan's team of four, an Australian guy. I haven't caught his name, so he is Australian Guy now, and he is pretending to be an employee of the horse race game venue. He gets bullied by Stemp! We don't like Stemp!

The tape she stole, they watch it right away and it shows footage of what the virus (there's a virus problem at the center of this) does. It is effective, and a little shocking.

But then, this is surprisingly actually kind of well-conveyed - they made it VERY clear that the tape was originally in Ambrose's left jacket pocket, and they showed very clearly that TN returned it to the wrong jacket pocket, AND it's obvious a moment later that Ambrose knows it has been replaced in the wrong jacket pocket. Don't know why, but at least it's keeping us on top of this situation.

Also not-too-shabby is how they're doing the consequences of Ethan and TN fancying each other, except then she has to go and seduce Ambrose and that's uncomfortable and drama-making. In Ethan's defense, as well as Ambrose's, I am also in love with TN right now.

1:02:12 - Ethan disguised himself as Scientist, the dead one from the beginning, and I'm just saying I'm glad this movie is embracing the disguise-craft theme that was established in the first movie. Ooh, is the show like that too?

And then just as I've typed that, it turns out that Ambrose did an Ethan disguise (it was established by Anthony Hopkins that Ambrose was an IMF agent so he can do that stuff too) to trick TN into outing her intentions. They make it very clear that there is voice-fake tech with their disguises that involves a wire mesh thing stuck to the throat.

Next up is a heist scheme to break into a skyscraper where they're growing stuff about the virus, and it's a little bit of that style I liked so much in the last movie, with the added twist that Ambrose is somewhere else anticipating what Ethan's planning, and, I think, plotting a separate, way-better heist. They're still talking about it and the heist is happening and it is suspenseful! I totally like this more than I remember.

1:13:30 - Ethan is at the part of the heist where he's at fancy lab facilities with robot arms and AI voices and oddly no people. VR and Australian Guy are observing everything that's happening using technology and Australian Guy's helicopter, making it more suspenseful, but I also don't know exactly what's going on? We appear to be where Scientist originally injected himself, and Ethan is I think killing the virus while also somehow visualizing Scientist injecting himself.

But then that all goes away because a platoon of thugs in black burst in and are shooting at Ethan. It all quickly became an action movie with blazing guns and VR's tech van getting bombed.

In the fracas it's clear that one of the injector guns contains the last of the virus, and also gunplay might shatter it and make them all infected, so that's decent suspense. But also, the lighting in this bio-lab is like a nightclub, with inexplicably roving spotlights and neon accents that pop in 4K.

TN is in the mix, and she decides to inject the last of the virus into herself, and there's a dumb moment where it's like ETHAN YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO SHOOT ME WITH YOUR GUN and Ethan, Man of Ethics, does not do that. Instead there is more gunplay and Ethan jumps out a hole he made in the wall.

1:28:45 - We've moved to new location, a new compound, and it's on a guard-patrolled island and Ethan sneaks up on a guard and does a totally unnecessary body-flip martial arts move to take him out. I think he needs to steal the antidote from this compound so that he can save TN, who is somewhere else. He is visually passionate about this mission.

Ethan got caught sneaking in to this new compound by Stemp, and he did a whole grenade blowup thing but he still got caught. It's a trick, right? Yup, he put an Ethan mask on Stemp and a Stemp mask on himself and got Ambrose to kill Stemp. He realizes he just killed Stemp because of the finger injury, good job with that.

I am reminded that this movie is from the director of Face/Off, so I needn't have feared that the mask/disguise conceit would be forsaken.

But did he get the antidote? He must have. Sometimes when I'm typing notes I miss stuff, but he's now motorcycling away while VR and Australian Guy are providing support from their chopper.

This is now the vehicle-chase opera that I remember ending the movie so terribly extendedly. Much gunplay. Vehicles pirouette with violent elegance. Ethan can do such exquisite dances with his motorcycle and firearm. This climaxes in the ridiculous feat of Ethan and Ambrose riding their cycles at each other and jumping at off them at each other to finish the job sans vehicle. It ends as a tussle on the beach, and Ambrose has a knife that almost gets in Ethan's eye. The visual on that is striking. But it's no good, Ethan is too Tom Cruise for him. He gets the knife from him and DISCARDS THE KNIFE, and punch-kick-fights him a lot instead. Ethics.

Turns out Ambrose has a gun after all oh no. But then it turns out Ethan is standing by a sand-obscured gun somehow also oh good. He does a thoroughly storyboarded sand-kick-body-twirl gun recovery that ends like you'd guess.

So although there are some dumb things about this movie, I think it's better than I remembered. And having just watched the first one, I think it actually did a good job of having a story where you don't have to ignore a lot of stupidness. It's not like it's an especially good plot, but it didn't try to make you forget its holes like the first one. I still like the first one better, though.

(next: Mission: Impossible III)

[wannaonestars]

boyfriend! jung sewoon

the ideal boyfriend oh my goodness where do I start with this angel

literally an angel sometimes u swear u can see his halo and wings

he was rly good at concealing his feelings before u two got together like no one could tell he liked you

but he always brought you snacks and pastries when y’all met and that was how gwanghyun realized his bro had a crush

sewoon couldn’t even deny it when gwanghyun brought it up he just smiled a little and scratched the back of his neck LIKE HOW CUTE

he confessed to you with a song he wrote and composed :DD and he’s not the type to express a big amount of emotions (i’m pre sure this could be phrased cleaner but i’m a dumbass so this is what y’all are gonna have to stick with) but when you said yes he smiled from one ear to the other and couldn’t get it off for the rest of the day

super sweet and thoughtful?? always knows how to take care of you and what to do when you’re upset aka buying your fave drink or giving you a soft massage

literally if something between you two ever happens he always?? just immediately gets his priorities straight and resolves everything instantly 

once you were messing around with his guitar and ur stupid clumsy hands snapped the strings and you were like oh...my god.....and bc u panicked u dropped it too and got several scratches on it good job

u thought he would definitely get mad bc man guitars are exPENSIVE but when sewoon saw what happened he rushed over and actually asked u if you had hurt yourself

told u to not worry about the guitar because it’s “just a few scratches”

um wasn’t this guitar like five thousand dollars

he seems utterly amazing and flawless but he’s probably the type to forget his keys twice a week bc he’s too busy thinking about the next line to a song he’s writing

sort of an airhead sometimes? he didn’t realize you were cheating at monopoly and had stolen $5000 from the bank until you told him

but it’s ok bc he’s cute 

also he probably didn’t even get mad by how terribly he lost from your cheating he just laughed at himself for being so ditzy

your name on his phone contacts is sousuke

if u don’t understand the meaning of the above statement pls google the movie ponyo

ofc it’s definite that a talented person like sewoon would use you as his muse and compose songs with you in his mind but he’s too shy to show them to you 

after a year he had like ten songs about you written but stashed away bc he’d die of embarrassment if u ever discover it

but ALSO sewoon loves cooking!! imagine waking up to the smell of his beautiful done breakfast

sewoon in a cute ponyo apron setting down plates of eggs and bacon: a concept

even if you can’t really cook whenever you do like the tiniest thing in the kitchen like maybe peel the onions and carrots for him sewoon smiles gently and thanks you even though he probably could've done it a million times better

he cooks lunch boxes for you too like your classmates/coworkers are so envious that you have jung sewoon as ur boyfriend

he’s rly casual about skinship?? he doesn’t get embarrassed about pda at all and it may seem as if he’s nonchalant about it but you always see this satisfied smile on his lips whenever you let him drape himself over you

he’s a big fan of just loosely holding you and having your head rest on his shoulder while his rests on top of your head

just being with sewoon is so nice tho like whenever y’all are cuddling he always has an arm around your shoulders and his legs tangled with yours

let’s not forget that he smells nice [SEONGWOO VOICE] everytime everywhere and that makes cuddling with him just SOOTHING like it has the same effects as going to some high quality spa with a bunch of expensive incenses 

sewoon smells nice no matter what tho?? like it could be stinking hot day and he’d still smell like he bathed in flowers

he’s so incredibly GENTLE like it feels as if he holds your hand with just the right amount of grip...never too loose or too tight it just feels PERFECT

also sewoon’s hands are pretty af??? they’re so slender and smooth

it always feels so reassuring when you’re with him

he gives you rly sweet pep talks before a nerve wrecking presentation or a stage performance like somehow the words “you’ll do absolutely fine” sound so much better and different than when you hear it from your friends

always gives you these warm and encouraging smiles no matter what you do and once you finish whatever you had to get done and go rushing back to him he always chuckles and presses a kiss on your face

speaking of kisses sewoon’s kisses are like...rly relaxing

it’s not like his kisses feel lazy but it’s never a quick rushed peck it’s always more of a really soft and planted kind of feeling?? like once he kisses a spot on your cheek the sensation on that spot doesn’t stop burning for a while

words can’t describe how perfect he is 

but numbers can 

he’s a frickin 10/10 y’all

[krakenator]

Chapter 17 aka “Dune”

SPOILERS are sprinkled around extremely liberally for The Property of Hate

Masterpost here

RGB: oh fuck

That’s… that’s actually really neat. We get confirmation soon that everything in this world has color as blood, not just RGB. So, you can actually see it in this tree stump- idk if that’s how sap actually works but it’s a cool as hell visual

That’s a neat way to highlight how FUCKING UNNERVED AND AFRAID RGB IS SEEING THIS BULLSHIT

Oh fuck. Oh that is really not good. Oh no. oh god it’s a domino effect. No trees means nothing is holding up the sea which means the darkness can’t do anything on its own. This is gonna ripple back to the market isn’t it. Oh god

With the sea collapsing like this, Click may get released from his watery grave quicker than imagined…

YIKES

Ok, at least it stopped and stabilized. For now. buuuut that particular exit is completely unusable now

HEY WAIT A MINUTE *rewinds a few pages* YEAH REMEMBER THAT HUGE SCHISM CRACK FROM REALIZING RGB’S MURDERED MANY HEROES AND BEING TOLD TO SHOOT HIM? Yeah that shits GONE now

How the fuck? That hasn’t happened before. Hero’s had to sleep to heal her schism in the past.

AND ITS COMING BACK? One page after they’re out of the darkness and that schism is starting to think about making a reappearance. WHY THO

CONSIDER THIS: darkness ALSO has healing properties? Whereas total Light will burn, scorch, and white you out from existence, total Dark will hide, conceal, and heal you.

Then again, Hero’s schism didn’t heal on her first journey through darkness to get to the Market

So... more likely it was something to do with their bonding in the last chapter, or- or even though the Nightmare gave her a bad scare, it is still technically a DREAM, and dreams whether they are nice or scary will still heal you up a bit? Interesting if true. Alternatively, the sheer proximity to that literal blockade of dreams was just so, many and potent that Hero didnt even need to be asleep for them to work a little magic on her

I still think I’m onto something about Darkness also having healing effects, however! Consider the evidence:

RGB was fucking WRECKED right before Negative come out to play way back in chapter 6. Just utterly destroyed. He was COVERED IN BURNS from being PUNCHED ACROSS A FIELD and then his circuits got ELECTROCUTED. But Negative doesn’t have any of those injuries, and neither does RGB once Negative has finished his job. Negative, confirmed to be Made of Darkness, heals RGB from whatever dumb-fuck nonsense he’s gotten into to make Negative have to step in

EVIDENCE #2: that black residue Hero leaves from being impaled on the sick tree. Just because RGB believes nothing they did contributed to the tree’s revival doesn’t mean that’s entirely true. If Hero somehow left behind a lil bit o’ Darkness in the tree, then maybe it might have thawed a little/slower on its own even without the Butterfly also melting away the [—–]

One last, slightly off-topic thing before we get back to continuing the actual chapter, people produce soft lights and flowers when they sleep, right? and those flowers fade away once they wake up. RGB’s never done that, but Negative spawns blue roses that break apart when he’s done his business. My point being... RGB doesn’t dream. If he only ever actually asleep when Negative is awake?

RGB’s overabundance of color comes into play once again

“this sand is stained by the blood of dead trees” wow I did not remember this section of comic being as metal as it is

Wait the fuck a minute. Hold on. Hold- hold on

RGB IS A FUCKING COLOR BLEED PUN

RGB’s explanation is great for why this place is littered with husks of vehicles, but let’s think about what else probably ends up here, all those objects of sentimental affection and names- laptops, favorite pens. stuffed animals! The Sands are like a junk yard. and things occasionally get washed into the Sea, or the Sea washes them up here... just a cool cycle overall

SPECTACULAR TEAMWORK LOVELIES KEEP IT UP

back on the schism- its definitely much better than when they left the Market, but worse for having exited the Darkness. its more of an impression of a dip that a gaping wound right now

OH. So, yeah the sun piece will probably run into its brother whilst in the ocean, but RGB’s right- it probably went there in order to be hidden over other reasons

BUSTED

RGB: you did WHAT? You SOLD your FINGERS? Without TELLING ME? What made you think you could go and do that, I would’ve handled it!!

Hero, remembering that time she saw RGB rip his whole hand off and give it to an owl he met 2 seconds ago: I mean…

Yo can we… talk about RGB’s entire train of thought (LMAO) here? That he’s upset about Hero trading away parts of herself but doesn’t really give a fig about doing the same to himself? He’ll sell off buttons or an entire hand, but Hero gives away two fingers for a friend and he’s upset that she didn’t let him know, because he’d have handled it? On one hand it’s very “adults being horrified at children having to take on responsibilities and experiences they shouldn’t have to” which I am always about, yet on the other hand I’m getting a “RGB really doesn’t value himself much at all does he” vibe and yikes my heart

Like, between the self-worth issues touched on here and “maintain illusion of control and confidence by saying big words smartly”- same fucking hat. RGB needs to stop being relatable

“saying HUGE words, just INCOMPREHENSIBLE LETTERS when angry” is also. Yup. That’s uh. That’s me. goddammit

...... for me, this is what i would personally call the Nightmare Scenario

YOWCH that looks like it hurt. At least the good news is RGB will be able to recolor himself over a bit of time. Not sure if he’s also able to regenerate indelible lineart, so… better just not have to find out

also; that’s literally a train of thought. Why’s it colored like Negative, though? Is this a train made of Darkness?

YUP it’s a Darkness-cloaked train- how fucking weird must this look on Hate’s side?

Fdhafjk I forgot, they have NO IDEA what happened to Click. Amazing

what.... in the fresh hell is going on in this panel

BUT, super interesting implication that Hate can’t LEAVE this place, and that without Dial to get audio, or him/the Butterfly to go out and interact with things, Hate is very hands-off

but honestly wtf is the slanted speechbox? “this side of the script”??? i love it but what does this mean

RGB points out that charging through the sands like this should be destroying it, yet it remains perfectly intact throughout all of this, even when BURROWING INTO THE LITERAL ERASING SANDS. Interesting implication that Darkness can’t be erased. Interesting implication that Negative would be entirely unaffected by sand as well

IS DIAL EATING POPCORN? HOW

Who wants to bet this is gonna be an inkwell

AND DIAL IS LET OUT OF HIS CAGE!

Who the fuck would be the third party that’s sent this hell-train out to scoop up and deliver our heroes to them? 

The idea that the kidnapper has at least once before been a kidnapee is just so funny to me. HOW DOES IT FEEL RGB??

(war flashbacks to THIS MORNING when RGB: broke into song, rocketed himself across the market via explosion and a slingshot, and wouldn’t stop making puns the entire time) my man is a ball of stress but damn if he isn’t able to react in the moment

The good news is RGB’s color regen process is pretty slick- his back’s already back to normal

Your humansona’s a real Jackie Chan madman isn’t he RGB. a real Tom Cruise motherfucker. Some Buster Keaton level shit.

I SHOULD SINCERELY HOPE SO, you’re wearing like TWO lucky objects on your person currently. If that can’t give you even a smidgen of stat-boosting...

now CHECK THIS OUT: it seems like RGB starts running into weirdness BEFORE he charges directly into the dream-infested car. A film-reel overlay effect, and lookit his hat-  negative stripes of shadow

Chiaroscuro: “the effect of contrasted light and shadow” created by light shining in weird ways and directions. interesting chapter title to use, uncle mod, on a chapter which has got the pure whites of the erased desert/Hate’s realm directly contrasted with tree stumps and this weird, darkness train

Don’t you hate it when you run directly into a gas cloud of dreams

So we got a jewel (a box?), white and black hands, the iron again, a teardrop shape, what might be RGB’s Mystery Button, all with film reels

And speaking of that iron, we also get the fiery sharp shapes again… which morph into S’s. it’s a sound. a SSSSSSSSSSS

I just had to go look up what an iron actually sounds like and… yeah. It makes an SSSS sound

Human RGB is… unfairly handsome. Of course he is. AND I SEE THAT TV IN ON THE LEFT MOD

Hey wait a minute

That’s not my bastard man

NOBODY in this comic has spoken in ANYTHING other than black or white colored text. and now here is this ancient MEMORY MAN speaking in ORANGE?

well actually the ‘co-worker’ is speaking in like really dark maroon? BUT STILL

“we split” has returned, 15 chapters later

The duality of these two title pages is really something- past and present getting whacked awake, the similar position present RGB has fallen to mirror past-human-guy, going from the Light of the memory to the Darkness of the train

ACTUALLY, RGB didn’t even LAND like that. he fall on the floor like THIS. he’s SHIFTED to reflect the decayed, old, deteriotated and fragile memory currently playing out in his head

AND CHECK OUT THOSE NEGATIVE-STRIPE GLITCHES! WOWIE! Lots and lots of foreshadowing to the upcoming Neggy appearance coming very soon to a screen near you!

[thenewtdimension]

It all points to you - pt.1

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader Prompt: Soulmate AU requested by anon. One shot(x) or Chapter (x) pt.1/2 || (next part) Word count: 2.3k Warnings: none Genre: Fluff? Maybe a Tiny Speck of angst? A/N: I’m tremendously sorry for all the tardiness!! University has started so it’s all gotten pretty hectic.. to make it to to you, I’ve decided this is gonna be a two chapter fic! The next chapter will be probably uploaded next week tho, as I have yet to finish it. Also, this isn’t some of my best work.. it really isn’t...so please bear with me. Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors!

The world seemed to work in odd, surprising ways. For every person existed another, tied together by an inconspicuous red string of fate. Those, no one could see, though they had no reason to. On each person's wrist lay imprinted a compass, working restlessly all hour of every day of every year, hoping for the bearers' attention to glance their way just at the right moment, just at the right second the string's ends could intertwine.

At least half of the population was a result of this, of having been aware at the time their half crossed their path. They were, mostly, the married and the bearers of children.

Some say it destiny proven to be true. Yet in the back of most people's minds flashed a thought very possible. That is, while they say that, one way or another, pairs will have more than one chance to meet, there are those who never stop wondering.

The world didn't play on destiny, it played on chance. And being a horrible gambler yourself, you decided to ignore all thoughts of attempting to find the person at the end of your shared string. If you were to meet, so be it. You believed it was better not to force it.

If voiced aloud, some would call you mad - you see, no one wanted to end up alone. No one. So everyone, or almost everyone, tried their very hardest - obsessed, actually, over the burden the compass ensued.

Eventually, you came to hide such a thing. You became negligent to the idea, completely absorbed in your own little world instead. Being a witch left little time for those types of worries to cross your mind, either way.

You had developed a love for Herbology and healing since childhood. After graduating Hogwarts you were thankful to have gotten a permit to open up a small herb shop - while also being able to operate as an emergency healer if needed. As of late, however, you had planned to close the store for the time being and restock on some fresh herbs and fungi.

It was a routine you had created thus far. Each month the shop would be closed for a few days and you'd go around either Britain or a wider range of European land in search for this fungi or that plant.

Dusting your apron, already used to the various shades of green and red and other variety of colors splattered on it, you went to help the last costumer of the day.

"Dearie, you will be back by Monday won't you?" A feeble old lady, Mrs. Hobbs, asked. She was a regular, often coming to you instead of St. Mungo's (something about long procedures and lack of patience) for a checkup and some remedies. She was sweet, and you were grateful for the conformity she brought to your life.

You smiled, "Yes, Mrs. Hobbs. Monday at 8 o'clock, as per usual."

Returning your cheeky expression and holding on to her cane, you escorted her as she made her way out.

"I will see you then, dear. Oh, remember to let your compass breath before something bad happens, understood?"

Midway, her words began fading with distance, but you waved and chuckled before the words sunk in. Right. The compass. She must have noticed you had it concealed.

Closing the door with a click, activating the shudders and putting up both a lock and a protection charm, you took off your apron before giving your second home a last look and apparating in your apartment. You had tuned your actions to 'automatic,' truly lacking a desire to think about such things, about soulmates and the myths around them.

But after being days without seeing it, you couldn't help but take off the think piece of silk that covered it. And you stared. On your wrist it glared, arrow still moving lethargically erratic and without rest. It was always like that. Not just for yourself, but for the people that hadn't found their halves as well.

Sighing, you covered it again.

It wasn't that you were against soulmates or finding 'the other half,' you were just too tired to make it your whole life's purpose or sole ambition. So you hid that 'part of life' away and continued onward. At that age, however, people had begun to ask questions. Why weren't you trying to find that person? You could just ignore it, why hide it? You were constantly told to not mess with destiny and whatever it had in store for you. To not hide it for it was central to one's being. Which is why you understood why Mrs. Hobbs said what she did.

After having it hidden for so long, your nights and dreams had become dreadful and dark in a literal sense. Lately it even seeped into your days, a sense of gray overshadowing the passing hours. You suspected it had to do with lack of interest and chase in the matter, but you hadn't put such theories to the test. Not even at night did the silk band come off.

Of course, you weren't going to put it to the test now, for you didn't want to stare at it. Instead, you went and packed some important instruments in your favorite comfy leather bag.

Then, in a manner of seconds, you were far from home again.

The forests of Scotland were amongst your favorites. The different shades of greens soothed your eyes, the barks offering solace and ground when their branches took you too far, be it by imagination or distance. Even when they got thick and the fog reached your knees, you wanted to explore and often kept going. Every new discovery was appreciated and fawned over, from every new herb found to the creatures that scattered about and sometimes hid from your presence.

You apparated into one of the forest's clearings, and carefully got to work. Your feet swiftly took you towards the well-known trees and bushes, while your eyes scanned around for the fungi spots already imprinted in your memory.

It didn't take long to get to your favorite tree. It stood right before a clearing's pathways and the beauty it displayed could leave anyone breathless. The evergreen leaves and the hanging moss swayed in the wind, while its white flowers peppered the air.

You neared the tree, hoping to take its beauty in for a second longer before leaving to find some aconite. But as you went to pick one of the flowers mid-flight, a strong gust of wind suddenly shook the branches, the moss almost entangling your body as it trembled and shivered.

As another wave of wind hit you, your arms instinctively went to shield your face as you heard the whistling sound pass by and… was that someone… talking?

Intrigued as to who would be so deep inside a place people seldom ventured, you lowered your arms and went in the direction of the sound.

That was, until warm hands cradled your head, your face pressed against some man's chest. He wore a vest, soft and mustard colored, and you thought it a bit odd before realization settled in. And your body quickly began to protest, but pushed with little force because of your evident confusion.

"Excuse me! Who-"

But the man held you tighter, although with hesitation, and brought you through apparation behind your favorite tree. Just a few seconds after, the wind picked up. It still managed to shake you slightly.

"Shhh," he whispered, somehow stupefying you enough to drown out your protests. Then, the sound of nasty snapping - of trunks splitting in half - and branches crunching as if under feet soon erupted all around you.

Once your eyes were unshielded, and the man gently pushed you away, both the breeze and sounds had practically stopped. But before you could try and talk to him and demand answers, he apparated back where he held you before. You moved around the tree, hurriedly following him. How dare he- Who- what?

"Who do you think you are-" you began but quickly stopped. Your eyes had gone from hard to soft after locking with his own and understanding what was happening. Because you see, right behind the man, and a few feet from you, stood a dragon.

It was a Hebridean Black, with sleek black scales glistening in the dying sunlight. The sheer size of it, cramped in a rough patch of forest and broken trees trunk and branches, and its overpowering aura left you breathless. Now you knew where the cacophony of sounds had come from. The dragon has just landed.

Letting out a surprised yelp, your hands quickly covered your mouth, as the dragon's amethyst orbs pierced your own - and so did the stranger's blue-green ones.

"I'm actually - ah…. W-would you mind bowing a little? He was a bit hard to calm down, you see," the man asked, and almost instantly your body did as he asked. Clearly, you did not know proper dragon etiquette. Besides, considering the situation, you were almost sure he was not there to hurt you - you were more like a casualty.

And that voice… the hushed, amused yet respectful tone… the longer you heard it, the melodic it turned, and your cheeks colored beet red. You had never, ever in your life heard such a beautiful voice. Of course you wanted to comply, at least this once. The thought was slightly concerning, and you decided to lock it away for the moment.

"Thank you… Arthur is rather prideful, he is," he said, voice piercing you despite the low tone. As an afterthought, could have sworn you heard a quiet "not dangerous."

You straightened just in time to see him move swiftly, but with grace, towards the creature before them. He raised his hand, and you resisted the urge to yell that it might not be the best idea. Yet without any problems at all, the dragon nuzzled his head under a man's hand.

It was an odd sight. They were said to be aggressive so you never neared them. But there he was, a curled haired man, cuddling a dragon.

Weren't they supposed to be looked after by a Scottish clan?

"Isn't he supposed to be in an open space?"

The man's curls bopped slightly as he nodded, freckled hand caressing the creature before him. It… started to look more like a dog, truly.

"Yes, but Arthur seemed to have escaped," he murmured, appreciating how you didn't run away screaming at him for being a 'lunatic' or other dreadful names, "When I heard, I- I couldn't stop myself from helping. He's not dangerous, you know…" And he wasn't sure why, but he couldn’t help but reveal his actions to you, either. He figured you deserved it, after being intruded on what he figured was a once peaceful walk. Yet you stayed, and you didn't yell… on the contrary, you had turned curious.

"I see…" you began, "Is it… alright? Are - are you alright?"

Blinking at both questions, he looked at you as if you had gone completely mental. A woman. Asking about the well-being of a dragon - on that day and age. Not only that, but asking the strange man with it if he was alright after he had held her without consent, without asking - even if it was for your protection.

A burning sensation gathered at his cheeks, and he wondered why the question tugged at his heart and warmed his chest, "y-yes... We're both fine, miss…?"

"Oh," you jumped a bit, surprised at your own rudeness and ears heating in embarrassment, "I am (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N)."

You had begun to move about, picking up a few mushrooms that the wind managed to get out of your bag. It was a distraction, for you knew your feet would lead you closer to them if they had a will on their own. And oh did they lead you closer.

"I've already met.. Arthur, was it?" you asked, gesturing towards the dragon. The man nodded. "But.. What's yours?"

Now only separated by a few feet, you could see him properly. He was very tall and lanky, and you appreciated how it suited him so. The curls atop his head stuck out in every direction - he must have been hit by the wind earlier as well. And his skin, adorned with freckles and light visible scars, was as captivating as his eyes.

His eyes wondered to the ground as he caught your stare, "I'm Newt Scamander," he said and quickly offered his free hand.

You shook it lightly, frowning at the electric current that passed between the touching skins.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Scamander," you said and he scrunched his nose a little.

"Please, just Newt is fine," he murmured, a smile twitching slightly and a hand going for his pocket watch before pocketing it once more.

"It's time to continue now, Arthur. The Macfustys are waiting," he nudged the creature a little, carefully. The dragon let out a grunt like sound that seemed rather whiny, and the man turned back to you.

"Thank you... For your concern," he smiled "and I am deeply sorry for startling you earlier - couldn't have you knocked off your feet now,"

He took a step closer to the dragon before continuing, "Also, seeing as it'll be windy again.. You might want to apparate a few meters out of this area,"

You nodded before moving back, "Yes… and thank you, for shielding me."

The last thing you saw of him was his ghost of a smile, as both of you apparated before Arthur could take flight again. You had left without some of the ingredients.

Once back at your apartment, you let out a shaky breath. The day had been too weird, and you were too tired to do anything but relax.

You were only halfway through the kitchen, with your tea already being prepared in the air, when you noticed your wrist. Its protective silk was gone. And your compass, which once moved incessantly, stood absolutely still.

[sanerontheinside]

@jediknighterrant: 

“It’s nothing,” Anakin insisted.

“Nothing? Really?”

Her hand snaked out to grasp his chin, roughly tilting his face up to the light. The bruise he’d tried to conceal was livid, shaping thin fingers in a brutal slap.

“Excuse me, I have some stupid in my ears. Care to repeat that lie?”

Ok – sorry, this took me ages, I wasn’t sure who to give that line to. Actually, writing children is one thing I’ve done relatively little of, so there was a little bit of awkwardness, too, working with characterisation I don’t explore much. Hope you like it, tho!

There was no way his Master wouldn’t see that bruise, and so now Anakin was hiding. Everyone knew about the lower levels of the Temple, of course – although some preferred to hide in the towers – but they also knew that if you didn’t want to be found, the Force could be confusing here. Lissi knew this place because she had shown it to him. 

Anakin’s face – his ears – burned with shame. He was broadcasting it into the Force, unable to control it or let go. He turned away, wanting to hide. Maybe he thought she’d leave him alone, if he didn’t say anything. After a moment, Lissi sighed and sat down next to him. 

“You have to tell your Master, Anakin. You can’t just let this go on.” 

Easy for her to say. Lissi was never picked on. Anakin didn’t understand it, exactly, though he knew what made him a target. He was an outsider from the Outer Rim, he didn’t sound like any of the children. He was rough and coarse and didn’t know if what he said was rude or somehow bad; he was too good at some things and not good enough at others. At least when he’d gotten into scraps on Tatooine, they’d been scraps among equals. 

Lissi, though, was slight and pretty. Anakin hated that he knew – knew she would have fetched a high price, with her purple skin and the dusting of freckles on her nose. She would have been claimed for Jabba before the bidding even began. The thought made him sick to his stomach – kind, sharp-tongued, fiery Lissi in Jabba’s palace. 

“Ani,” Lissi said softly, “he already knows.”

That only made him curl tighter in shame, and a faint whimper wrenched itself free of his control. 

She sighed, reaching out to rub his back gently. Lissi had seen Master Kenobi on the upper levels, she knew what Anakin didn’t - that Master Obi-Wan hadn’t been the least bit fooled by Kos’s story. Master Obi-Wan looked haggard and worried, and that he was giving the instructor the mother of all headaches just for taking the side of ‘it doesn’t matter who started it’. Lissi hadn’t understood everything, and didn’t wait around for very long before she went off to find Ani, but some of the things Master Kenobi had said were downright frightening. Something about the situation having only gotten worse since he’d been an Initiate. 

That was not a pleasant thought. Hadn’t she heard that some of Master Obi-Wan’s yearmates had died?

Lissi resolved not to think about that, though. Probably just silly rumours. 

“Why don’t you go to him?” she asked, trying not to sound like she was pushing, only curious. 

Anakin shook his head, face hidden away against his knees. “He wouldn’t…” 

Wouldn’t understand, Anakin wanted to say. Master Obi-Wan would tell him it’s not the Jedi way, would sigh and assign meditations to release his anger. But how was he suppose to release it when he couldn’t stop thinking – 

“There you are,” a soft voice interrupted his thoughts, kind and surprisingly gentle. “Initiate Saiyu, thank you for keeping Anakin company. If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a few words with my Padawan?” 

Anakin sniffed involuntarily, and Lissi hesitated. 

“You’re not in trouble, Ani,” Obi-Wan said, still gentle. Lissi looked between them, then reached for Anakin’s hand, hoping he’d giver her a sign. Master or no, she didn’t want to abandon him. 

Thankfully Anakin gave her hand a tight squeeze and nodded, which Lissi took as a go-ahead signal. She withdrew slowly, having the grace to be a little abashed at perhaps implying distrust of a Master, but Master Kenobi didn’t seem offended. He gave her a half-smile, and bowed with appreciation. Lissi flushed a little and scampered off. 

Obi-Wan stared at his Padawan’s huddled, shrinking form for a long moment before he sighed and settled himself beside the boy. He rested his fingertips lightly, cautiously, on Anakin’s shoulder, gratified when he leaned into the touch. 

“I never told you about my time in the créche,” Obi-Wan said after a moment, musing and a little regretful. “Perhaps I should have. It might have prepared you for some of the things you’ve already seen, though I doubt it would have made it any easier.” 

The sniffles quieted a little, and Anakin shifted closer to his Master. Obi-Wan sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding his Padawan to lean against him. 

“I once got into a fight with a crèchemate of mine,” Obi-Wan said Anakin stilled against him, which brought a faint smile to his lips. Oh, Anakin, he thought, and went on: “Provoking me was a favourite game of his, and I’m sorry to say I fell for it far more often than I should have. He goaded me into a match, at the end of which we were both rather bruised and rough-looking. Rather than take myself to the Healers and be forced to answer questions and tell them who had done this to me, I went back to my quarters and patched myself up as best as I could.”

Anakin stiffened, finally looking up at his Master, bruised cheek for the moment forgotten. Obi-Wan smiled a little at the sight of those large blue eyes, red-rimmed, wide with shock. He reached with his other hand and brushed a stray tear from Anakin’s cheek. The warmth of the Force danced over the bruise, healing and erasing any sign of the handprint. 

“I didn’t want any more trouble from him,” he explained softly, “and if I went to someone, if they tried to have him censured - well, that would be inviting trouble.” His expression turned solemn. “That didn’t work.” 

Anakin blinked. “What happened?”

“He went to the Healers himself, and told them I had cornered him.” 

Obi-Wan watched Anakin’s eyes widen, and then his Padawan sputtered in a flash of anger. “But – but –”

“Shh,” Obi-Wan forestalled any further words, lightly resting a fingertip on Anakin’s nose. “The point here, Anakin, is that you cannot let someone else tell your story for you. You cannot turn around and hide in the lower levels, letting them speak for you. Yes, alright, perhaps you were goaded, and your control failed. Perhaps you attacked in anger. It happens, sometimes. Sometimes those fights are not worth having. In time, you’ll learn to choose those battles more carefully, to have better control – I hardly expect that of you when I could not do the same myself. But it is equally true that sometimes your opponent will not quite adhere to the Jedi way, either.” 

Anakin bit his lip and looked away, processing that. “What do I do then?”

Obi-Wan sighed again and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Padawan, all I ask is that next time Initiate Kos gives you any trouble, you come to me. He has already been assigned a different schedule, but that will not prevent him from seeking you out, should he wish to.” He squeezed a narrow shoulder. “We’ll be assigned missions soon, Padawan mine, as soon as you finish this round of exams. But a lot can happen between now and then. Please, if anything should make you feel like you are not safe, tell me. Use the bond.”

I will always answer. 

Anakin looked up, rather like he hadn’t expected to hear Obi-Wan’s voice in his mind at all. He smiled, though it looked pretty ghastly on his tear-stained face. A fond huff escaped Obi-Wan as he wrapped his arms tightly around his Padawan. “Come on, off to bed with you,” he murmured rising and picking the boy up off his feet. 

For a moment Anakin wanted to protest that he could still walk, but Obi-Wan forestalled him with a shake of his head. “No, Ani. I can feel how tired you are. I think maybe you don’t realise how deep into the lower levels you went,” he added, and started walking. 

Perhaps that was true. Anakin fell asleep almost immediately, head resting against his Master’s collarbone, his ear pressed over the soothing sound of his heartbeat. He awoke only briefly as he was gently tucked into his bed in the Padawan room, and then he was asleep again before he could say anything about the nightmares or the cold. But the next morning he found himself wrapped in not only a blanket, but also his Master’s cloak. He didn’t remember any of his dreams, and his Master, fully dressed, lay curled up on the floor by his bed.