med1c1nal

[med1c1nal]

IT IS FINISHED

i need to actually work on the carrd

[med1c1nal]

the goal is to give your characters ptsd every time they hear weird science by oingo boingo in the grocery store during the halloween season

[med1c1nal]

i need to actually work on the carrd

[med1c1nal]

HELL IS OTHER PEOPLE (2019) | 1x05

[med1c1nal]

He’s taking quite a lot of last-minute flights back and forth between Los Angeles and the Bay Area. Usually this much isn’t happening at once. Usually he plans to be in one place or the other for an extended amount of time. 

But it is what it is. He can’t turn down opportunities like these.

Distantly, he notes the sweetness in her voice. She seems excited to be speaking to him. He isn’t sure what to make of that, but it’s pleasant.

          “Thank you for calling me. Yes, tonight would work fine. It will be a few hours before I’m back in the city again, though. Is there anything I should prepare for? I imagine I won’t feel my best afterward,”          he says, leaving the pleading creature in its cage and ascending from the lab.

Artificial  cherry  flavored  lip  gloss,  freshly  manicured  nails.  She  curled  her  hair  in  those  big  playful  waves  that  always  gets  her  compliments.  She  spent  the  day  getting  ready,  the  enchantments  and  glamours  used  only  to  enhance.  She's  looking  to  impress,  will  @med1c1nal  be  impressed?  Will  he  notice? 

She’s  laying  on  her  bed,  legs  kicking  out  behind  her  like  she’s  in  a  teen  movie.  Cigarette  between  her  fingers,  ash  tray  balanced  delicately  on  a  pillow.  The  phone  is  pressed  between  her  shoulder  and  her  ear. 

“  Hi,  Hyuntae,  ”       She  saves  the  pet  names.  For  now.  She  doesn't  want  to  be  accused  of  getting  carried  away  too  soon!       “  You  told  me  to  call  when  I  got  peckish?  Like…  When  I  wanted  to  watch  you  play  the  cello?  Are  you  free  tonight?  ” 

[med1c1nal]

He appreciates her graciousness. He also knows the root of every fable about refusing food from strange women in the woods, especially if those strange women indulge in sacred arts.

          “Is my tree at risk of getting struck by lightning again, should your prayers be heard?”         He quirks a brow.        “We wouldn’t want the spirits getting mixed messages. If we’re only asking for rain.”

Hyuntae takes a few steps forward, but keeps his distance.

          “Go on. I’ll watch you.” 

it seems kind of silly to lie now that he's shown himself to be obliging. she turns her back just long enough to pick up the bag. brushing the dirt away, she smiles at him. he's rather pleasant to look at.

“i brought a whole altar with me. i'm praying for a storm. with damage this bad, of course it could've been a wildfire but you see the sort of — bubbling along the split there? like the wood and sap boiled together.” she nods at the right side of the opening. “i think it was hit by lightning.”

it could be recent too, the system that came through back in february was rough even by her standards.

“i have dates, cinnamon pastries and a few flavors of liquor as offerings, but you're welcome to them too. for your patience. ”

[med1c1nal]

She’s right. He will most assuredly keep all his data safe. With another dip of the head and murmur of thanks, he presses the record button on his device.

He notes the time and date aloud, where he is. And then, with a amicable smile, says,          “I’m here with Willow, an otherkind, a ‘dark childe.’ She reads minds. I suppose my first question, at the risk of sounding simplistic, would be—well, how do you do that?”

“You can record. I’d just prefer if you’d keep whatever data you gather very safe. I’m sure you will, though.” She tacks that last bit on at the end with a smile. “Ask away.”

The hope is that if she cooperates enough, it will give him reason to leave her alone in future. Grin and bear it now, find peace later.

[med1c1nal]

Hyuntae is vaguely relieved to hear she did not make a terrible life decision. 

But that matters much less than what she shows him next. He watches her little trick, intrigued. A faint smile plays at his lips.

          “Well.”          He looks up from her hand, back at her.          “That’s very interesting, but it doesn’t necessarily mean you aren’t human.”

Which means his presence here remains a mystery, lest she choose to clarify. He is curious, though. It may not further his own research, but these things are worth knowing. Everything is worth knowing.

         “How does it work?”

　　THAT DOESN'T MEAN HE HAD TO SAY YES. Tem feels like she should appreciate his attempt at neutralizing this, but it's just annoying, if not pathetic. He followed through; own it. She doesn't need to be placated.

　　Funny enough, the mention of him having a car makes her uncomfortable. She forgets this isn't Japan; they can't just walk somewhere and be surrounded by things to do and look at. When they get outside, she'll just follow him on her bike.

　　The elevator ride is awkward. Or at least, she expects it to beーshe doesn't expect him to talk, for some reason. Her first response is a disgruntled sigh.　“You don't actually think we're married, do you?”　A hand at the back of her neck, combing through her hair from the underside.　“That's just something he says. You can stop mentioning it.”　She twists her hair around her fingers, pulling at it gently before letting it drop, and then she holds out her hand in clear view for him, palm up.

　　The air cools around them. A small ice crystal begins forming above her palm, growing into a rough, star-like shape before she closes her fingers around it to snuff it out. Tem finally looks at Hyuntae again as she shakes the resulting water from her hand onto the elevator floor.

[med1c1nal]

Sometimes things have to be done like this. It’s unfortunate. He doesn’t take pleasure in it. Mostly. 

          “Jun is a sentient being; it understands, like a human would. Its consciousness may even extend beyond that of a human being. That’s very interesting. That’s also very unnerving. Human but not. A mimicry, for the purpose of feeding. We see this is nature. Not usually this advanced.”         A small digital audio recorder rests among his tools. A green light is blinking.          “It used to be human, and retains certain human qualities. He can understand me. Can’t you, Jun?”

There is a hint of professional friendliness in his eyes. Maybe even some empathy.

          “Don’t panic. I understand this is alarming. I need to see your other set of teeth again. Show them to me, please.” 

It’s worth asking before resorting to other measures. He imagines the scent of blood should still do the trick. 

The  sharp  pinch  gets  his  attention  in  an  instant,  and  by  the  time  he  discovered  what  had  happened  it  was  too  late.  A  hand  shoots  out  to  grip  Hyuntae,  to  keep  himself  steady  —  a  fist  bawling  in  the  front  of  his  shirt.  He  doesn’t  remember  anything  after  that.  Not  being  stuffed  into  the  back  of  a  car,  not  the  pitstop,  and  certainly  not  the  long,  winding  drive  into  the  woods.

It  all  comes  to  him  hazily,  what  he  does  remember,  what  he  was  aware  of.  A  slow,  careful  descent  down  basement  stairs.  Cool  metal  beneath  his  skin.  A  light  so  bright  he  can  barely  keep  his  eyes  open  against  it.  The  smell  of  latex  and  alcohol.  And  Hyuntae,  standing  over  him,  a  face  mask  tucked  neatly  under  a  pair  of  black  framed  glasses.  Jun’s  head  pounds  and  his  jaw  aches;  he  reaches  up  to  rub  the  soreness  from  the  joint  –

Only  to  realize  he  can’t.  Only  to  realize  his  wrists  and  ankles  have  been  bound  to  the  table.  Another  horrific  realization  comes  when  he  tries  to  close  his  mouth,  realizing  quickly  that  he  can’t  —  some  sort  of  dental  device  keeps  his  jaw  from  closing.

“   N  -  no,     p  –  h  -  ease  —  !    ”

He  tries  to  talk  but  he  can’t,  barely  keeping  himself  from  choking  on  his  own  spit  the  collects  in  the  back  of  his  mouth.  He  writhes  helplessly  against  his  restraints  as  Hyuntae  and  the  pliers  in  his  hand  come  in  closer.  Eyes  flood  black  instinctively  as  the  fear  takes  over,  the  drugs  still  coursing  through  his  system  making  his  jaw  muscles  too  weak  to  break the  restraint  so  that  he  can  take  a  finger  or  two.  He  can’t  do  anything  but  writhe  like  a  worm  on  the  cold  metal  examining  table  and  watch  Hyuntae  come  in  closer,  eyes  just  as  dead  as  they  have  always  been.

Is  Jun  going  to  die  tonight?  

[med1c1nal]

He looks her up and down once, brief. Is she Wiccan or some such? That would make sense. They can wander awfully far on their little mushroom trips.

Normally that would compel him to shoo her off. Back to Burning Man with you, dear. There’s something about her eyes, though. And the way she carries herself—with purpose, as if this is really important to her. The audacity of asking to stay is a little funny, too.

          “I suppose that’s fine.”

He’ll be watching, though. He tries to peer past her, expression neutral.

          “What have you got there?”

it can be dangerous work. she isn't caught often, but more than once she's stared down the barrel of a shotgun. the kinds of people who tend to hoard prime acreage, assuming they ever actually set foot on the property, don't take kindly to intrusion. it's not so different from back home. feigning dehydration or heat exhaustion usually gets her out of it though, and laying on the accent real thick sometimes helped. but based on the man's tone, that doesn't seem to be necessary this time around.

she stands, turning to face him, briefly putting up her hands to show she's unarmed. the goods are left on the ground in their sachel.

“oh, sorry. i didn't see any signs.” not that she would've heeded them anyway. “i didn't realize how far out i was. i stopped to pray.” a red and white rosary dangles at her hip. looped into it, a rough, silver cartouche pendant inscribed: 𓋴𓅱𓏏𓐍𓁣.

“is it alright if i finish?”

[med1c1nal]

#the things I want him to do to me 🔥🥵

Lee Dong Wook as Seo Moon Jo

Strangers from Hell 타인은 지옥이다 // Episode 6

[med1c1nal]

          “Go right ahead,”          Hyuntae says, smiling politely.          “I apologize if my visit is unwelcome. I was sent here. I hope you understand that. Anyway. I’m parked on the curb just outside.” 

He isn’t sure where to take her. Maybe they can just go for a drive. The criminals he works with like to go for drives when they talk to people. It’s rather smart, really. A captive audience. And words flow easy in a car, eyes drawn away from one another. 

          “Does your husband believe that you’re not human?”          He glances at her.          “He implied it to me, but I understand he gets carried away. If he struggles with something it must defy explanation.” 

She could very well be human. She looks human. Granted, many of the otherkind do. 

　　TEM STARES. Does he think she's afraid of him?

　　“It doesn't matter. Just not here.”　They can't go too public. Even though Nebula seems to have no concern for her these days, the Kishitani's still pop in from time to time. And who knows when either party will suddenly decide to get interested again.

　　Tem shuts the door. She stands there for a second, closes her eyes and takes a deep, measured breath. Once it’s been released, she turns and flits through the apartment, grabbing a few things, a jacket she won’t need, then returns to the door. Feet crammed into boots she doesn’t bother tying yet, the tomboy slips out into the hallway, as if Hyuntae seeing inside is some sort of taboo.

　　Hands behind her, still grasping the door handle, Tem leans against it and looks at the supposed “scientist,” trying to appear more solid, forcing herself to quash the misery that had hit her prior. She forces a brighter expression onto her face, which is still different from her initial reaction of skepticism.

　　“Okay!” She sighs immediately after without meaning to, but doesn’t let her demeanor crumble again. It is what it is. It shouldn’t matter to her. If he wants some stranger to investigate her or whatever, then fine. It’s nothing she isn’t used to.　“Do you mind if I smoke?”

[med1c1nal]

He smiles, appreciative.

          “Thank you very much.”          He dips his head slightly.          “The other girl held things back, too. None of my questions are intended to cause discomfort. I would just like to understand. If you don’t want to answer something, just say ‘pass,’ and I won’t press.”

He opens a new document on his laptop. 𝙳𝙴𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙸𝙲 "𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙺 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙴" - 𝚂𝚄𝙱𝙹 𝟶𝟶𝟹 - "𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚆"

          “May I record this conversation, Willow? I’d like to refer to it later.”

"Ask away," Willow says. "I can't say I'll answer all of them, but what I'm comfortable with I'll share."

Hands splayed against the tabletop, Willow appears relatively relaxed. His unsettling gaze is met with her own keen stare, and she wonders faintly if she creeps everyone out the way he creeps her out, now. She hopes that her brand of observation is a little sexier. He's very proper. Clinical. Her intentions are very different. When she stares, she's trying to undress the soul.

[med1c1nal]

He’s the forward one? Hyuntae quirks a brow.  (Well, maybe. Sedatives are more of a fifth date sort of thing.)

          “There’s a difference,”          he says, prim, curt.          “Not much known, not much to know—there’s a difference. It can’t be both. Those are antithetical statements.”

He takes another few steps forward. Slowly.

          “If there’s not much to know, we already have all the information we need. If there’s not much known, though, then there’s so much to know. We just haven’t discovered it yet. But we will.”          He smiles. Close enough now to touch Jun, he places a firm, gentle hand on his back.          “You and I are going to help each other understand.”

He needs to act fast, before the boy gets spooked again. His other hand swiftly emerges from behind his back and needle finds vein.

The hand on his back proves useful when he goes down. Hyuntae is in the precise position to catch him. He takes note of Jun’s prominent Adam’s apple; it’s very noticeable with his head tilted back the way it is. He touches it lightly, once, then catches himself. More thorough examination can be done later, when he’s properly gloved.

It’s time to go now. It’s going to be a long drive. He needs to make a pit stop at the apartment to gather some things and pick up Claudette. He hadn’t intended to leave the city tonight.

Jun  pulls  the  cigarette  from  his  lips,  breathing  in  the  velvety  smoke  that  threatens  to  spill  from  his  lips.  He's  polite  enough  to  blow  the  smoke  up  and  away  from  Hyuntae,  most  anyone  else  at  this  party  he  bets  wouldn't  have  been  so  kind.

“  Well,  yeah,  of  course  I'm  curious.  I…  It's  happening  to  me,  I’d  like  to  understand  it.  And  I  will.  Probably.  But…  You're  just…  really  forward.  And,  uh  —  ”        You  freak  me  out.  He  won’t  say  it  to  his  face  though.

Even  so,  he  can't  think  on  what  happened  in  there  for  very  long  without  swearing  he  can  still  feel  those  long,  delicate  fingers  on  his  chin,  his  thumb  pulling  down  his  lip  —  he  takes  another  drag  and  looks  to  the  side.  He's  all  too  aware  of  that  penetrating,  surgical  stare  studying  his  face  and  his  reactions,  and  just  how  hot  it  makes  the  skin  underneath  it.   

“  If  you  talked  to  Tabby  then  you  probably  know  a  lot  more  about  all  of  this  than  I  do.  I've  heard  there  isn't  even  that  much  to  know.  or  that  is  known.  so  —  ”

Why  is  he  standing  like  that?  If  Jun  didn't  know  any  better  he  would  think  Hyuntae  is  hiding  something  behind  his  back.

[med1c1nal]

should brit marling be the dead faeries fc. or perhaps the ex fiancé. exactly how much of the oa / i origins do i want to rip off

[med1c1nal]

          “Before you did something ill-advised?”          Hyuntae offers helpfully, eyes as empty as ever. He smiles.          “I understand. You’re high. Overwhelmed. And the world must already appear so different to you now, even without the altered state.”

And how does it appear to him? How do his unearthly senses operate? Hyuntae dissects him with his eyes, filing these questions away for later.

          “I meant no offense back there.”          He takes a few experimental steps forward. The subject is easily startled; he must take care.          “Examining you. I’m only curious. Wouldn’t you be?”

He seems like a curious boy—though perhaps that assumption is only because of his large, gentle eyes.

Jun  had  been  outside  pacing  for  a  few  moments  before  he  decided  on  the  garden  —  running  his  hands  through  his  party-tousled  hair  and  over  his  hot  face,  trying  to  drink  up  as  much  of  the  night  air  as  he  can  to  sober  himself.  God,  what  the  hell  was  that?  Why  is  this  the  second  time  this  guy  has  decided  to  show  up  at  the  worst  possible  time?  And  why  won’t  he  just  leave  him  alone?

The  cigarettes  he  fished  out  of  his  pocket  were  crumbled  and  broken,  unprotected  from  their  original  cardboard  package  that  must  be  getting  crinkled  in  that  one  guys  back  pocket  —  although,  by  the  looks  of  him,  that  pack  is  probably  long  gone  by  now.  Even  still,  Jun  tries  to  salvage  what  he  can  of  the  least  bent  and  broken  cigarette  —  beggars  can’t  be  choosers,  and  fuck,  does  he  need  this  right  now.

He  thinks  about  finding  Zero  in  the  party,  pulling  whoever  he  has  on  top  of  him  off  so  that  he  can  borrow  his  attention.  Maybe  Felix  will  have  the  time  for  him  too  —  or  Tabby,  whose  sure  to  be  in  her  room  by  now,  overwhelmed  by  the  light  and  the  music  and  the  drugs  —  his  mind  turns  to  them,  their  comfort,  his  skin  prickles.  His  breath  gets  heavy. Jun's mind and his hands wander a bit.

He  doesn’t  notice  Hyuntae  coming  up  behind  him  until  he  speaks.  The  boy  jumps,  whirls  around  to  face  him.  What’s  left  of  his  cigarette  barely  hangs  onto  the  moisture  of  his  lips.

“  …Didn’t  you  say  you’d  leave  me  alone  if  I  showed  you?  ”        He  can’t  look  him  in  the  eye,  too  busy  trying  to  fight  the  effects  of  the  drug  —  his  drug  —  coursing  through  him.  Yet,  he  still  offers  an  answer.         “  —  Shit  was  getting  weird.  Had  to  remove  myself  before  —  ”        before  what?  Before  you  killed  him?  Or  before  you  kissed  him?  Which  would  be  worse?

[med1c1nal]

Already, he’s taken to studying her. He might as well.

She seems wounded. He spares her the indignity of pity, but it isn’t pleasant to see. He wonders at her nature, as well as the nature of her union. 

Again, he finds himself irritated at the personal element of this. Izaya is a messy, spoiled brat with a collection of personality disorders as extensive as his knives. Why involve him in this, whatever it is? If his curiosity hadn’t already been piqued, he’d really rather leave the poor thing alone. 

          “Certainly. We can talk anywhere. Would you be more comfortable in public?”

He feels the need to reassure her. He offers a respectful smile. 

　　NOT TODAY. Tem leans against the door. “You plan on coming back?” Bold to admit already. She holds his gaze, steady, until the next part.

　　Inhuman. In any other context, this wouldn’t bother her at all. But that’s the reason Izaya reached out to him. Her steely demeanor cracks, and her eyes fall to the floor as her energy is sapped from her in that instant.

　　“…Izaya hates things that aren’t human,” Tem murmurs, not having meant to say it out loud. Her disagreement on “supernatural” being a bad term is overwritten up by her sudden gloom. She grips the door, leaning against it, hesitating to open it. All of this makes her feel so worthless, including the way this person talks about it.

　　“…Okay.” She sways slightly, a different person from the snappy girl a minute ago. She still doesn’t want to let him in. The apartment Izaya picked out, furnished almost entirely by him, is starting to encroach from behind her. It feels like it’s going to swallow her. She wants to get away from it.

　　The accountant looks back up, eyes softer, a little pleading.

　　“H…Hyuntae, right? Is there somewhere else we can go?”