#NEW SEVEN SPIRES EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP

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Mutually Assured Destruction

Alternate last year at Watford fic, written by the previous owner of simon-and-basilton

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve / Chapter Thirteen / Chapter Fourteen / Chapter Fifteen / Chapter Sixteen / Chapter Seventeen / Chapter Eighteen / Chapter Nineteen/ Epilogue

Epilogue

SIMON

It had been months since the Battle of Watford, as they’d taken to calling it. It had been months, months that felt like hell and things worse than that.

Within the first month, the members of the Old Families that had been responsible for the attack had been tried by the Coven and thrown into a prison for mages while they awaited sentencing. The minors who’d been involved in the attack had been pardoned.

In the second month, the Coven turned to dismantling the Mage’s reign. Mitali Bunce, Penny’s mother, had become the new headmistress.

In the third month, Simon had wanted to die. Well. That had been true of the first months as well. But in the third month, Watford had finally been reopened for the spring term. The White Chapel’s smoldering remains had been rebuilt and the new teaching administration was in place.

Simon hadn’t gone back. They’d given him the opportunity to, of course—how could they not? He was the motherfucking Chosen One. (Because that had gotten him so far already.)

But he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t be in that place. Never again.

Everyone else went back, though. Well—Agatha hadn’t. She’d disappeared sometime during the battle. Penny got texts from her every now and then, and she sounded happy in America. But everyone else had gone back to Watford. Everyone Simon had left.

They went back and it was quiet. He was quiet, at least. His mind was always too loud.

There were too many flashbacks, too many memories. Too many things missing.

Baz, stabbing himself.

Baz, bleeding.

Baz—

Simon couldn’t think about it. He couldn’t, and yet he couldn’t think about anything else.

The invisibility spell had dissipated along with Baz’s breaths. His chest had stilled, and Simon didn’t run. He couldn’t run. All he could do was wrap his arms around Baz’s cold chest and cry.

Fiona Pitch had ripped him off her nephew. Maybe, if he’d had his magic, he could’ve cast a healing spell strong enough to close the wound, repair the injuries.

Instead, he stood there, arms wrapped around himself, wanting to scream or run or do something. Anything. He couldn’t help, couldn’t save him, couldn’t stop the blood from pooling on the stone floor. All he could do was watch as Fiona poured magic over Baz All he could do was watch the wound slowly close, Baz’s eyes slowly open.

They healed him, but not completely. They couldn’t heal him completely.

Simon could’ve healed him completely, if things had gone differently. If he hadn’t been reduced to a useless, crying mess. If the Humdrum hadn’t drained him of everything.

 *

BAZ

Simon had never run from the Pitches. Because he was a damned fool, actually.

Whenever Baz called him that, though, he said, “At least I didn’t stab myself.”

Maybe it hadn’t been the best move. His father had called him melodramatic, his aunt had called him the biggest fucking idiot to have walked the earth. Simon had kissed him, right there in front of everyone. The bastard.

“You do understand that you could’ve died, don’t you?” his father had asked him the next morning. He was laying in his bed—his bed—in his room at Watford. They’d deemed him too weak to be moved back to the new Pitch house yet.

“That was, in fact, the point,” he’d replied, voice sour. It still hurt like a bitch. That was what you got for running yourself through with a sword, apparently.

He wasn’t entirely sure that he could’ve died, in all seriousness. But it was best not to say the word “vampire” around his father. Malcolm didn’t like to be reminded of his son’s shortcomings. Baz had once tried to avoid words like “gay” and “boyfriend” for the same reason.

“I hadn’t realized you were suicidal,” Malcolm had said.

“Not suicide, necessarily. It was a sacrifice. So Simon could get away.”

That was when his father had called him melodramatic. Which was true, but still.

Simon had been leaned awkwardly against the opposite wall throughout that conversation, looking as uncomfortable as you’d expect from someone who was standing in the same room as a man who had been trying to have him killed just 24 hours previous. A man who also happened to be the father of his half-dead vampire boyfriend.

That had been three months ago. Now, he’d recovered, mostly. Physically, at least. Vampires heal more quickly than other people do, so it hadn’t taken him long.

Mentally, he was a mess. But then, who wasn’t?

His family had agreed not to kill Simon, on account of the fact that he hadn’t intentionally destroyed their home, and because Baz was dating him. Simon losing his magic was a plus, because they considered him harmless.

Baz was pretty sure they’d considered disowning him when he told them that he intended to continue dating Simon, but he didn’t really give a fuck.

It was worth it. All of this, everything, it was worth it. Because it had ended here.

Here, with them together.

 *

SIMON

He hadn’t planned on coming here. Walking through the gates, seeing the rebuilt chapel, which had been nothing more than smoldering ruins last time he’d been on campus—it made his chest feel heavy, like he was still suffering the effects of smoke inhalation.

It’s been months. Five months. Get your shit together, Simon.

His common sense still had Penny’s voice.

The sky was royal blue, with the nighttime rolled out over the heavens like a canvas.  Stars dripped down around him, and he closed his eyes, tried to breathe.

Breathe, dammit.

So many memories. Baz, hating him. Kissing him. Loving him.

Before that, Agatha. Penny. So many people—he was wild with the thought of it, so many years soaked up into the soil of this place. The ground of the Watford School of Magicks was more holy and hallowed than that of any church he’d attended. Even the fancy churches with the spires and stained glass windows.

The music was filtering down and across the grass, making the night magical. Or maybe it was the magic that made it magical. Simon wouldn’t know, he couldn’t feel it anymore.

With a deep breath, he pushed his way through the doors and into the ballroom.

It wasn’t hard to spot Baz, looking casually elegant. He had his head bent close to Headmistress Bunce’s, and he was laughing politely. Simon had gotten to see his real laugh, the one where he threw his head back and sounded reckless, crazy—it was so much nicer than that carefully rehearsed chuckle.

He stopped halfway across the room and reconsidered. The phone calls, the emails, the meetings on weekends—he and Baz had been acting like boyfriends for months now, while he was in London and Baz was still finishing up the year at Watford. But actually being here, it took him back to a time before they shared secret kisses in their room. Back to the last ball they’d held in this room.

Back when the only thing he and Baz had shared was a room and a mutual hatred.

Standing there, he could almost go back. Back to a time with magic, with the Mage, and without Baz.

But that’s not real. That’s not real.

This is real.

He grabbed Baz’s shoulder, and he jumped. He turned. He smiled, took Simon’s hand.

This is real.

 *

BAZ

Simon was panicking in the ballroom, so they went outside. A few other couples had filtered out and onto the grass.

There were lightning bugs. It was beautiful, or maybe that was just the romantic in him speaking.

It made him think about the last time they’d stood on the Great Lawn and danced, after the Mage had confronted them.

So much has happened since then. So much, and yet.

And yet Simon still couldn’t dance worth a damn.

They swayed awkwardly across the grass, Simon with his head on Baz shoulder, Baz with his cheek pressed to Simon’s hair.

Beautiful.

Simon tried to lead, and Baz tried to lead, and they ended up conceding to move back and forth at random. That was how it was, anyways. Mutually assured destruction, because neither could win. All they did was lose.

Fuck that. We both win.

Of course they both won.

They both won when they moved to London, Baz sharing a flat with Fiona (“Try not to stab yourself today, huh?” “Shut the fuck up.”) and Simon with Penny.

They both won when a nosy waitress had glanced at Baz, Simon, and Penny sharing a table and said “So which one of you boys is the third wheel?” and Penny said, “Me, actually.”

They both won. And lost, sometimes, of course. That was the way it was.

But despite the losing—losing their temper, their minds, everything—Baz only had one thought in the mornings, when the sun poured liquid gold over bronze hair and blue eyes.

This is what happily ever after feels like.

[viralhottopics]

I love Trump. Hes doing what he said. Presidents supporters keep the faith

Womens Marches and widespread criticism of the Muslim ban have not dented the loyalty of Trump voters

Cast-iron hooks, childrens vinyl records, classic food packages, tobacco baskets, vintage-style olive buckets and a rotary-dial telephone fill the shelves at James and Jess House of Goods. The antiques store opened two years ago, styling itself as rustic, hipster, chic with a twee strapline: Mostly old with a little new.

If the House of Goods was in Washington DC, it would be a decent demographic bet that its owners voted for Hillary Clinton. But it is 75 miles away in Washington County, which Donald Trump won handily. And while the capital city has been roiled by protests since Trump moved into the White House, from where James and Jess are sitting he is doing just fine.

I love Trump, James Zawatski said. I give him credit for doing what he said he was going to do; a lot of politicians dont. Im 47 and I never voted in my life but I did this year. We needed someone with a set of balls to do what needs to be done. Im tired of those liberals.

Trumps asteroid-like impact on Washington DC has caused bewilderment, consternation, disorientation, puzzlement and anger. Democratic politicians have been knocked off balance by a brash adversary while Republicans are struggling to adapt to an unpredictable ally. The media have rained criticism. Residents of DC where Clinton beat Trump by 90.9% of the vote to 4.1% express their mortification and fears. And last months Womens March on the capital was a dramatic statement of anti-Trump resistance.

But across the frontline of Americas increasingly tribal politics in Hagerstown, Washington County, Maryland, the perspective is turned on its head. Whereas critics see Trumps travel bans as un-American and sowing chaos at airports, supporters see him as keeping them safe; where critics see him blowing up foreign policy as he spars with Australia and slaps sanctions on Iran, supporters see him getting tough; where critics see him firing the acting attorney general and trampling on the constitution, supporters see him boldly smashing the old order. And where activists protest, columnists fulminate and millions recoil in fear of a world spinning towards catastrophe, supporters dismiss them as liberal cry babies and praise Trump as the first politician to keep his campaign promises. They see him not as a rampaging rhinoceros but a straight-talking strongman.

His plan to build a wall on the US-Mexico border is one example of this worldview complementarity. I love immigrants, I love Mexicans, but theres a way to do it, theres a procedure, said Zawatski, himself descended from Italian immigrants. These people come and theyre entitled to more than me whos busting his ass seven days a week. Were a great country but were being taken advantage of.

Personally I wouldnt spend money on the wall. Id just shoot them as they come over. Then they wouldnt come.

Zawatski had little sympathy with the hundreds of thousands who took part in the Womens Marches, many of whom wore pink pussy hats and carried placards condemning Trump over his past boast about feeling able to grab women by the pussy. He does not merely turn a blind eye to Trumps misogyny but condones it: What man never grabbed a womans pussy? What man doesnt talk in the locker room about what he did to a woman the night before? Women do that too. Were all human. His wife, Jess, 35, agreed: Its a guy thing. I know James talks like that among guys. So I dont hold it against Trump.

The Womens March, she added, was the stupidest thing ever because some were saying theyre being treated unequally. Women can stand up and go after what they want. Men arent standing in the way.

James Zawatski in his shop. Photograph: Chet Strange for the Observer

As Zawatski, wearing tattoos on his arms and a T-shirt with the legend Tattooed and employed, spoke to the Observer, a man stole a decorative sphere off its stand (total price $79) from the pavement outside the store. Zawatski spotted him and raced outside, prompting the man to surrender the object without acrimony.

Technically this is the hood, he remarked. There are a lot of barber shops here that are not barber shops, if you know what I mean. Comparing himself to Trump, he added: I tell the police chief, Do your job. Just do it.

Hagerstown has a drugs problem and several closed-down shops and cafes stand empty. But it challenges and scrambles perceptions of the map seen as crucial to Trumps victory. It is neither the Republican-voting deep south nor the pivotal rust belt portrayed in his dark and divisive inaugural address as containing rusted-out factories scattered like tombstones under the rubric American carnage.

On the contrary, it sits in Maryland, which Clinton won with more than 60% of the vote. It is an almost pretty city of church spires and historic buildings, boasting a fine art museum, biking and hiking trails, theatres and a tourism office, replete with leaflets about the areas civil war heritage and Hagerstowns origins involving an 18th-century German immigrant. On Thursday, students could be seen pouring out of an arts school after class.

Washington Countys median household income is $56,477 (45,000), above average for the nation but well below the state average of $74,149. The county voted 64% for Trump, 31.6% for Clinton. It is a red county in a blue state or, as Clinton supporter Al Steinbach, a 64-year-old sales rep, vividly put it: I call Maryland the vagina map: right down the centre is blue; left and right is red. Welcome to divided America.

Steinbach, who is literally afraid of what Trump might do, reads the Washington Post daily and listens to National Public Radio. When I turn to Fox News and see what the other side are saying, Im appalled by the extreme side they are on.

In the past, it has been argued, communities would be bound together by local newspapers and radio stations, establishing at least some common ground; now, in the age of fragmented digital media, everyone with a phone is an island. Last Thursday, Anthony Kline, 38, a labourer, sat in a no-frills bar watching a new Facebook video made by a bearded, muscular man who claimed to be in Iraq.

The man, called Steven Gern, said he had asked local Iraqis what would happen if he took a walk in town and they had replied he would be snatched, tortured and beheaded on video. This being so, he claimed, why should he let Iraqis into his country? Kline, gripping the phone in his tattooed hand, said: This is as real as it gets.

Trump recently told the CIA that he is in a running war with the media. Kline, who awards the president eight marks out of 10 so far, said: Mainstream media news is definitely partial. They put on what they want you to hear or think. Most people are not educated enough and they take things at face value.

The chorus of liberal outrage that greets Trump daily not only falls on deaf ears among his supporters but appears to harden their view that he is taking on a privileged, self-centred elite. Reflecting on the Womens March that followed inauguration day, Kline said: Youve got a lot of mommys-liberal-baby snowflakes that are used to having their way. Its like your spoiled kid not used to being told no. Once you tell them no, they dont know how to react.

Across town, Marlon Michael, 50, still has a Trump make America great again banner outside his home, part of a duplex with vinyl walls and flagpole with the stars and stripes. The country was going downhill and the rest of the world didnt respect us any more, he said. Trump vowed to bring all that back just like the old days. And the verdict so far? Michaels answer would be unthinkable in swaths of Manhattan: Hes doing wonderful. Hes doing everything he said hes going to do and you cant ask for more than that from a politician.

Democrats, activists and media commentators have denounced Trumps executive order banning travellers from seven Muslim-majority countries, both for its bungled execution and its sinister intent. Chuck Schumer, Democratic minority leader in the Senate, said: There are tears running down the cheeks of the Statue of Liberty tonight. Even Republican loyalists quailed.

A Reuters/Ipsos poll found about 31% of people said the ban made them feel more safe, while 26% felt less safe. Another 33% said it would not make any difference and the rest said they did not know. But Trump voters like Michael, a former US marine who works in home construction, give it a full-throated endorsement. It should have been done eight or 12 years ago, or after 9/11, he said. For the past eight years weve had a president that was a little lighthearted towards the Muslims. We lock our doors so people dont create havoc in our homes; its the same with America. Were shutting our borders so people dont create havoc.

Christianne Smith in a Hagerstown coffee shop. Photograph: Chet Strange for the Observer

Michael, too, watches Fox News CNN has too much false bullshit thats not true and Trump calls them out on it and has little but contempt for the Womens March. Fucking stupid. For what? What more privileges do you want? Women have equal rights. Theyll still be fighting for it till the end of time. Wearing a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt with an image of fingers in an up yours sign, Michael gives Trump nine out of 10. My only complaint is that I wish he would stay off Twitter.

The election demonstrated that, despite Barack Obamas plea otherwise, there are blue states and red states in America. But there are also blue and red counties. One of the defining splits in the election was between voters with a college degree and those without: according to the FiveThirtyEight website, Clinton improved on Obamas 2012 performance in 48 of the countrys 50 most well educated counties, but lost ground relative to Obama in 47 of the 50 least educated counties critical to her defeat.

Trumps debut in the White House has done little to heal the rift, with each side viewing his policies, pronouncements and antics through a rival prism. Sitting in a coffee shop in Hagerstown, Christianne Smith, 20, an African American student, gave him a score of two out of 10. Hes unfit, inexperienced, he said. He doesnt have the best interests of the people in America. I dont understand how he became president. Maybe its because I didnt vote. So its my fault.

Read more: http://bit.ly/2lbMeKj

from I love Trump. Hes doing what he said. Presidents supporters keep the faith