idiots in the snow

In honour of “speak your language day”, my favourite insult in Polish.

Now, for it to work you need to know that the word “bałwan” meaning “snowman” is an insult meaning “an idiot”, “moron”.
Got it?
Ok, here it goes.

“How much snow had your mother had to stuff in her vagina to give birth to such a moron like you.”

You’re welcome.

anonymous asked:

snowbaz soulmates au where the ink you write on your skin appears on your soulmate's skin and vice versa

Okay, I really let my imagination run away with my words here. :D I really love this trope. But what if we took this a step further? What if, instead of soul mates, this was actually a spell that could be used to communicate with someone from far away?

Sometime around seventh year, this spell is taught in Magickal Words. And you get forced with a partner to learn it. Baz and Simon get partnered up, of course. And Simon botches the spell and makes it relatively permanent.

At first, neither of them really do anything about it. Simon might occasionally draw a stupid face or something on his arm just to piss off Baz. But Baz makes certain to no longer make notes to himself on his skin. It’s like this for almost a month. Until Simon goes on a mission for the Mage, and he receives dozens of cuts all over his arm and a few across his chest. It isn’t until he’s checking his cuts on his way back that he notices something written on his wrist.

Snow. Are you hurt?

Simon is really confused by this at first. Because why on earth would Baz be writing to him when he never has before? He immediately searches for a pen.

I’m fine, he writes back. Why? His handwriting is atrocious compared to Baz’s.

Suddenly, all these small arrows start appearing on Simon’s skin, each one pointing to his cuts. He looks under his shirt at his chest; there are some there, too.

I’m covered in scars, appears underneath his writing.

Fuck. It suddenly makes sense. He must have really fucked up the spell, and now Baz is getting all these marks on his skin where Simon’s cuts are.

I was cut, Simon writes. Do they hurt you?

Not much, Baz writes back. Be careful next time.

Simon doesn’t write back. He doesn’t know what to say. They don’t speak about it at all when he gets back. Nothing happens again until a few weeks later, over Christmas break.

Simon is sitting on his bed at Watford, trying to enjoy the quiet, when a large scar appears along the side of his neck and over his collarbone. He doesn’t notice it immediately, but begins to feel a burning sensation there. It isn’t until he goes into the bathroom to shower that he sees it. It terrifies him to see such a scar that large. He immediately runs out of the bathroom and grabs a pen.

Baz, what happened?    

Dueling. The reply is almost instant.

With who?

My father.

Did you lose?


This almost makes Simon shiver. Baz so easily admitting defeat. In the form of one beautifully written word on his skin.

Simon walks back to the bathroom and stares at the scar in the mirror. It still burns. Burns like magick. Baz must have been hit pretty hard to have a scar left like this. He traces it up and down, wondering what it must look like against Baz’s grey skin.

Does it hurt? Came another set of words on the back of his hand.

It burns, Simon writes. Are you in pain?

I can handle it, forms along his right hand. Simon snorts at this. Of course Baz would be ambidextrous. Simon searches along his arm for a place to write but it’s all full of words. He then looks down at his legs. He’s wearing boxers, so he can write there. He’s not sure if Baz will see it immediately, but he decides to write there anyway.

I’m not left-handed, Baz, he writes. And then because of the extra space on his leg, he adds, I can’t write on my right arm.

So you decide to write on your leg instead? Idiotic, Snow. The reply appears on Simon’s leg, right under his own words. And it was almost instant again. Simon tries not to wonder if Baz is actually wearing pants at this moment.

You wrote on your own leg too, Simon writes.

To prove a point that it’s idiotic.

How is it idiotic if you’re doing it too?

There isn’t an instant reply this time, and Simon realizes they’ve written all the way from his knee cap to the top of his thigh. Something they could only do if they’re both not wearing pants. Simon really tries not to think about it.

(I don’t know what this was, I’m sorry. But maybe I’ll turn it into a real fic one day :D)

  • Emma: We have no idea where Hook is!
  • Henry: Yeah we do. He's in Neverland.
  • Emma: It's hopeless. We'll never find him.
  • Henry: Guys, he's obviously in Neverland. Where else would a semi-sentient shadow come from?
  • Snow: Here. Take this magical pixie dust and save him. Hook needs it more than us.
  • Henry: No he doesn't. We know where he is. Also, don't you have an infant to look after?
  • Emma: If it's the only way, I guess I have no choice.
  • Henry: Yeah, you guys can call me when you're done being dramatic for no reason. I'll be in my room.
Fiery Impulses

  This is my first time writing something like this and to be honest its a mess. Also side note, Simon and Baz are in no way in character. But whatever, it’s for fun. Don’t judge me too hard. 

I know I shouldn’t care, because Baz is my enemy and all that jazz, but I honestly can’t help it. Baz is just too darn careless. I mean, what freaking flammable idiot would smoke? Or mess around with fire at all? Apparently roommate and nemesis Baz.

 When I first caught him smoking, it was in the catacombs. I was being snoopy as usual but I mean, he’s a vampire who likes to plot my death and other evil things and I’m just a guy trying to prevent that. At first I thought he was just down there to mope and plot, but when I saw the cigarette I realized he was also down there to make bad life decisions. He acts like he is such a genius, yet there he was toying with death. It’s like he doesn’t even care about the enemy-ship we have going on. It sincerely pissed me off to no end. I honestly should’ve left at that point but my dumbass was so filled anger that I decided that making a fool of myself was a better idea. So did what any normal nemesis would do to another nemesis, and I marched straight up to him and plucked the damn cigarette out of that idiot’s mouth. He stared at me, mouth open and eyes wide with shock. I then realized I had no plan going forward. 

“What the hell Snow?” In stark contrast to his usually composed and emotionless face (unless evil is an emotion), Baz’s face looked the most confused I had ever seen it. (I guess if there is one consolation from this mess of an encounter, it would be the shocked look on his face when I took the cigarette.)

I looked at the small cigarette in my hand and then back at Baz, and then back at the cigarette. Backing away slowly, I think I said one of the most stupid things I have ever said in my lifetime. 

“Smoking’s bad for you.” And with those words, I fled the scene, Baz’s cigarette still in my hand. I ran back to our room, ditched the cig on the way, and when I got to my bed I dove under the covers to reflect on my own bad life decisions. 

 I woke up in the morning refreshed and ready to block that out of memory for the rest of time, when I saw a pack of cigarettes on Baz’s desk. I suddenly felt it again. An overpowering feeling of anger at my moron roommate. An itch came over me and I found myself inching closer and closer to the pack of cigarettes. My hand hovered over them and I found myself rationalizing my stupidity in my head. I mean, if Baz’s dies from one of these cigarettes, I might never find out what his family is plotting. So it’s my duty to take these cigs and dispose of them. With that final thought, I grabbed the pack of cigarettes. 

 I immediately felt the magic on them, but it was too late. Baz had cast a spell on the pack, and me being the imbecile I am, I fell for it. My hand was now magically glued to the darn cigarettes. And of course that was also when Baz decided to drop into our room.

 When he saw the predicament I was in, his signature cocky grin appeared on his face. 

 “You are really as stupid as I thought you were.” He lazily walks up to me, his cat-like smile only growing wider.

 “So are you going to tell me what the heck you were doing last night and what the hell you are doing with my cigarettes glued to your hand?” He asks me.

“You know why I have your cigarettes glued to my hand you asshat, you spelled them.” I huffed at him.

 “Well yeah, I spelled them, but that doesn’t explain why they are in your hands.” He tells me like I’m the idiot here. (Which I guess I am, but he is equally an idiot.)

I stare at the floor, not really knowing the proper response for this situation. I’m not exactly sure why there in my hands either.

 “If you’re not going to tell me, that’s fine I guess, but have fun with those cigarettes glued to you all day.” He starts to walk away and I panicked. (I’m sure I could’ve found someone to unspell the pack from my hand, but I wasn’t thinking clearly at that moment.)

“Wait! Wait…” I pause unsure of how to explain myself. “Well you see, cigarettes, um, you have to light them, with fire, and umm…”

The moment of realization on Baz’s face is also the moment I die a little on the inside. (Baz and I haven’t talk directly about the whole vampire thing, but he knows I know.) Baz’s grin at that moment turns into the most sadistic looking smile I have ever seen. To be honest, it scared the crap out of me.

 “Are you worried about me Snow? Afraid I’ll catch fire?” He starts a small flame in his hand. And darn it, I can’t hide the panic on my face. And then Baz does the most horrifying thing to date that he has ever done. He giggles. Baz the vampire, my roommate, my arch nemesis fucking giggles. (And it’s kind of cute. Wait scratch that, it’s not cute, it’s weird, I meant meant weird. )

 He steps closer, and suddenly my backs to a wall. To be honest he is low-key terrifying and confusing the shit out of me right now. 

 “Why are you so concerned Snow? I thought you wanted me dead?” He puts the flame out in his hand and stares me down. 

 “Well, deads kind of harsh, don’t you think?” I try to inch my way out of this uncomfortable situation, but he has me backed into a corner. I find myself staring back at him, more specifically his lips. 

 “Whatcha staring at Snow?” My face itself seems like it is on fire, as my eyes shoot back to his. His own eyes are unreadable, but they usually are. But then I see it. The dip in his own gaze. And holy crap, he’s also looking at my lips. And leaning in. I tell myself to move, but I get this irresistible urge not, and clearly I’m more of an impulse guy. So I lean in to meet his lips. 

 Our lips meet in a soft, hesitant way, both of us waiting for the other to stop. But for some reason we don’t. We keep exchanging soft kisses back and forth, like secrets, and it’s a perfect moment. At least until I realize that dumbass still hasn’t unspelled that cigarette pack from my hand.

Bittersweet Death

: ‘Are you drunk?’
: fluff
Word count
: 2225
: Simon comes home late one night and lays himself next to Baz in bed. He says things, but Baz is sure he’ll regret it the next day.


When I come back from hunting, Simon isn’t there, which is unusual. I wonder whether he’s followed me again, but I didn’t notice anything. (Also, he hasn’t followed me for a few months now. I was glad about the break, but I still don’t really get why.)

Sometimes, he makes me feel like I’m suffocating. Sometimes, I feel like I’m drowning in a pit of despair. (And it’s not just because I’m being dramatic – there are moments when it feels like I’m going to die of the pain, of the longing.)

But tonight, he’s not here. (I’m torn between missing him and relief. It’s torture being in love with your enemy.)

I lay down and stare at the empty bed beside me. The stars shine brightly tonight and I can hear the wind rustling against the window. I wonder what he’s up to at this time of the day. (Probably with Wellbelove.)

Suddenly I hear something crashing against the door and jolt. Is this him? (He’s clumsy, but not even he would make this much noise so late at night.)

It must be somebody who lives inside the Mummer’s house. I hear some metal clashing together (keys?) and somebody swearing. Maybe it is Simon after all?

Whoever it is, he gets the door open and stumbles in. I can only see his slumped shape, his head hanging low. What’s wrong with him?

He slams the door shut behind him and I wonder whether he’s angry. (At me? I wouldn’t know why, but that says nothing.)

For a moment, he just stand there in the middle of the room. He stares at the ground and I stare at him. Then he lifts his head and his gaze meets mine. The moonlight reflects in his eyes. He makes a step forward and his lips curl into a smile. (Mood swings?)

‘Baz,’ he whispers, and he sounds high. And then he giggles. (Crowley. Giggles.)

Keep reading

Deepest Darkest Secret


This is an eighth year AU, and it’s going to have around 20 chapters. It’s based on this little thing I wrote for FEDA and promised to continue. Also posted on AO3 here

Soulmate AU where you’re born knowing your soulmate’s biggest secret.

Chapter 1. Baz.

My soulmate is the Insidious Humdrum.

I’ve known this since before I was old enough to know what the Insidious Humdrum was. At first I thought I was actually going to fall in love with the Insidious Humdrum, which confused the hell out of me. Is it even human? (Then again, I’m not human, either.) How could I fall in love with a supervillain?

I don’t think anyone in the World of Mages actually understands what the Humdrum is. In the break before eighth year, I sat in on a series of Old Family meetings, each more useless than the last. Some of them are about strategy and the Mage. Fiona keeps insisting that I have to know things about Snow that we can use to our advantage.

‘We avoid each other as much as we can,’ I keep telling her. ‘He fell asleep on his Latin homework at least six times last year. That’s all I’ve got.’

It’s a lie. Fiona’s right; I do know things about Snow. Everyone knows their soulmate’s deepest secret, even if their soulmate doesn’t know it themselves. His future biggest secret is the darkest, most important one, and the one that the least number of people will ever know.

It makes sense that it’s him. I’ve been hopelessly in love with him since fifth year and it already feels like a lifetime. He’s got his fingerprints all over my soul. It has to be him.

Not that I’ll ever admit it to my family. My love, my downfall, my biggest secret. (Bigger than the fact that I’m a vampire, because there are at least three adults who know about that, and I’m never telling anyone about Simon.)

Keep reading

  • Regina *about to sign adoption papers*: Yes. Everything seems correct.
  • Emma *bursts through the door*: The hell it ISN'T. I’m her baby’s daddy, you're not leaving me out!
  • Henry: There she is.
  • Regina: What the hell are you doing here?
  • Emma: Adding Swan to her last name, what else?
  • Officer: Okay... "Isabella Swan-Mills" it is?
  • Regina *looks into Emma's eyes*: So we do this together?
  • Emma *beams at her*: Always.
  • Zelena *rolling her eyes*: Looking at you is giving me diabetes. Just sign the damned papers, and also- [summons another stack] -while you're at it; GET MARRIED ALREADY!
  • Regina: What?!
  • Emma: Whoa whoa!
  • Henry: Seriously, Moms, stop pretending. It's time we're all living under the same roof.
  • Snow *shakes head*: This is Ruby all over again.
  • David: You're not fooling anyone, ladies.
  • Regina: That obvious?
  • Emma: Damn... If even "Snow White" can tell, what does that say about us?
  • Snow *raises eyebrow*: That you're two idiots... in love.
  • Emma and Regina smile at each other: That we are.