The best little magician in candyland

infaimous​:

ᴘɪстυʀϵѕ οғ ᴀ ᴅɪғғϵʀϵɴт мϵ

bullshituberalles‌:

infaimous‌:

  Only looking at the book, Stark can tell it’s got that tiny, squashed-together typeface that will give him a headache after two pages. While he complains about reading, he’s happy to let Mason think it’s laziness rather than openly admit how difficult he finds it.

  “What?“   Distracted from glaring at the book, he wrinkles his nose, shakes his head.  “Fuck that! I’ve gotta live with the guy, I don’t need to know what he thinks about when he’s jerking off.” - like the Limey’s posters of half-naked dudes in new wave bands don’t give that away already.   "I can find some unsuspecting stranger.“

  If it’ll help keep others’ thoughts from his mind, he supposes he might actually read the damn thing.   He finally reaches to take it.  "So, you’re saying in order to stop hearing people’s thoughts, first I’ve gotta learn to listen to them better? Wait."   A sly, suspicious look at Mason from the corners of his eyes.   "If this is you trying to make me more psychic so I can help you ferret out blackmail material, you’re gonna have to cut me in on the profits, y'know.”

“That wasn’t my intention but I imagine nothing I say will convince you of that. So, assume what you like of my intentions for helping you.” Though, he can’t blame Stark for coming to that conclusion.

“However, I suppose it doesn’t matter who you practice on as long as you are practicing. Hell, I’d even offer my own mind if I wasn’t almost certain you’d use it your findings as a weapon. Or you know, blackmail material, as you put it.” Maybe that’s just his paranoia showing. “I am simply trying to be a good friend. For once.” He even offered a reassuring smile in addition to his words.

“Anyway, it’s as I said. Focus on one thought in the person’s mind, block out all the rest. That’s how you start. Get used to doing that and yes, reading minds for specific information will be easier, should you ever want or need to… But it should also eventually help you control the strength of your telepthy so you’re not hearing things you’d really rather not.”

Stark is idly looking over the first few pages, but he isn’t sorry to have a reason to look away, squinting at Mason. "Why the fuck would I blackmail you? You don’t have anything I want.” …yeah. That’s debatable. He has to avert his eyes from the uncharacteristically sincere smile.

Deciding after next to no effort that he’s not in the mood for reading right now, Stark closes the book with finality. “Thanks. For trying to be a good friend or whatever. Not a bad first step. You know what’d be a great next step? Letting me crash here tonight so I can skip whatever Limey tantrum my roommate’s gonna throw if I come back. I kinda mentioned it before but I think you were too busy envying my telepathic prowess to notice.” - another shining example of just how bad Jimmy is at asking for help. If there may be another, more personal reason to feel anxious about this request, he hides it well behind his usual poker face and nonchalant rambling dialogue. He tilts his head, squints just one eye this time. “All right, so maybe I do want something from you. I’m not gonna try to blackmail you, though, that’s waaay too much work for a place to sleep. I’d rather pass out on a couch in the rec room than go to all the trouble of digging up your dark secrets, if you really don’t want me here.”

bullshituberalles​:

infaimous​:

As they set out again in their self-made cage of magic and electricity, Stark also keeps an eye out, scanning the alternating shadows and patches of moonlight. The fog that’s crept up makes visibility so bad he can hardly see to the edge of the shielding.

“Holy fuck, is that another compliment?” Naturally, he uses distracted sarcasm to conceal his genuine surprise and pleasure, throws a exaggeratedly wide-eyed look at Mason before quickly returning to their surroundings. “All in one night, too, must be a record.”

A movement to his left causes him to slow his steps and only distantly pay attention to the guy’s following words. The fog finally thins to reveal a crow, or raven, or some fucking blackbird - Stark’s not a damn ornithologist - rather than a slavering hound, but he still flinches when the bird quarks noisily and takes flight. Clearly, this place is getting to him, too. And how the hell did they end up so far away from the road?

“Yeah, it was fucking hardcore. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not repeat the experience. Next time let’s go to a movie or something.” However flippant his voice is, it’s also barely above a whisper. He’s not going to even address the fact that Mason still wants to do the damn ritual tonight, as if they’re not both tense and filthy and wrung out and smelling like actual death. Because it’s Mason - of course he wants to do it now. Admittedly, Stark’s curious too, but… “Can we also at least take a shower beforehand?”

“You can shower after we do the ritual,” Mason insists as they continue to move steadily. He’s squinting through the dark and the fog, just able to make out where they’re going. “I did not do all this shit just to wait even longer when we get back, and I am not risking anything compromising the success of this ritual. You can wait to take a shower.”

@infaimous [ continued cuz why not. ]

—————

"Uh, I took it that way 'cause that's the way you said it, angel eyes."

"Yeeeeah. So would Kasabian or Cherry Moon or any of the rest'a your People's Temple of creepy worshippers. You've got an On Demand orgy of unattractive pathetic third-rate magicians anytime you want it. But bragging about it just makes you sound desperate...you're not that desperate, are you?"

bullshituberalles​:

@infaimous​ [continued]

  Whatever expression was on Jimmy’s face drops when Mason pipes up in that patronizing tone. But he doesn’t interrupt. Only watches blankly without blinking. He remains silent after the cunt stops talking, for a few seconds too long, in a vain hope that this time the echo of his own words will make Mason realize how he sounds.

  No such luck, of course.

  “We both know exactly why you don’t get Parker or Kas to help you. Yeah, they’d recite your stupid lines in the order the book says like a couple'a good parrots - not that you ever give em the crackers they earn.” Snatching the highlighted pages from Mason’s grip, he mockingly points at their separate incantations, too. “If you read this part at the same time I’m reading this part, instead of in turn, it’ll weave the aether tighter around the spell, so the next section will have a fuckload more power.  …plus we should add the vegvisir symbol to the north side of the circle, so the summoning locus is more exact.”

  Stark sets the book back down (with care; he’s not trying to entirely piss off Mason), puffs his cheeks out, shrugs carelessly. “Or you can do that cute thing where you ignore to my impeccable instincts and get the same mediocre but sufficient results as everybody else.  That’s probably just as good as my way.”

Now it is Mason who stays silent for a good few seconds, brows furrowed in confusion, a hint of annoyance mixing in too. “You barely even studied the damn spell and suddenly you know better than the book?” Though as he looks over the spell again and considers Stark’s words, they really start to make sense. Frustratingly.

Dark Magic sentence starters

“Awww, you did that cute thing again where I talk and you don’t listen to me,” Mason replies, and perfectly times his bitch face right at the end of the sentence. “You read this part...” He points to one part of the spell, then another. “And I read this part.”

An exasperated sigh leaves his lips. “I even highlighted everything you need to do, so you can just follow the spell as it goes. Then, you will know exactly what you need to do and when. Though, if you had just read the whole thing through, to yourself, like I told you to do first, then I would not have to be repeating myself right now. Yet, you wonder why I threaten to get Parker to help me with this shit. Or Kas, or literally anyone who isn’t you!”

Send “voicemail” to hear my muse’s drunken voice messages they leave on your muse’s phone [accepting]

“Oh, for fuck sake, Jimmy! Now, you’re too good to answer your damn phone? Oh, wait... You’re probably just too stupid to remember what it’s ffffucking for! Stupid twat! You know, I never even drank before I met you… I didn’t fucking smoke either! What does that tell you about you, huh? I’ll tell you what it fucking says about you! It says that you’re fucking... You’re dumb! And stupid! And… nobody likes you! You just fucking waltzed in and started acting like you’re better than everyone else, but you’re not! I worked my fucking ass off to learn everything I could about magic, practice it as often as I could! Every time it came down to sleep and more practice or research, sleep always came second! And you just pull something out of your ass like it’s nothing, and just lap up the attention like the smug motherfucker you are!”

-drops his voice low and sloppily hisses the words down the phone- “But you know why you’re so good at magic? Because you know pain, Jimmy. That’s where magic comes from. Pain. And I don’t have to wiggle around in your brain to see it. It’s all over your face, your body. Every intricate detail of you is covered in scars. The emotional kind that only the truly fucked up can see...And you know what? If you took a look at me, if you really looked…You don’t have to get inside my head, Jimmy… You just have to look, really look, and you’ll see. Get over yourself and look past the uptight, Grade A Cunt that you pretend to hate. Look deep into these Angel Eyes that you love to get lost in, and you’ll see it. My pain.”

“Is that your way of trying to find something out about me besides being a ‘cunt’? Points for efforts.”