#fuck a nine-toed troll

[helloiamace]

Possibly the best phrase I've ever heard

[sillyunicorn]

Snowbaz Mad Lib #14

I'm back with more mad libs!! Thank you @gekkoinapeartree for playing!! Here is your fake dating fairy tale:

Once Upon a Lavender Welcome Mat

Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince, who lived in a disgruntled tower with his 19 capybaras.

One day, his parents announced that he was to be married, which the prince did not want.

To avoid his impending betrothal, he told his parents that he was, in fact, already in love.

“His name is Simon,” he told his parents. “And we have already pledged our love to one another.”

In fact, he and Simon had made no such promises. But he knew he could get Simon to agree. You see, he and Simon had once absconded some beavers together under a full moon, and that does create a certain bond.

The prince sent Dev to fetch Simon, who looked quite sexually frustrated when he finally appeared.

“Sorry for the wait, sire, I was wrestling with some Valkyries. Fuck a nine toed troll, there’s another one!” He pulled it out of his hair and quickly squashed it under his boot.

“I see,” the prince said, questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment.

“So what was it you wanted with me? More help with your Elocution lessons?” Simon waggled his eyebrows.

“That was one time,” the prince seethed. “And no. I need you to pretend to be in love with me so my parents won’t make me marry someone else.”

“Holy Doodle!” Simon said. “I never thought this was how I’d be proposed to. Don’t you think we should do some, I don’t know, wriggling first?”

The prince sniffed haughtily. “I’m not asking you to marry me, just pretend to be in love with me.”

“Well alright,” Simon said. “Actually, I don’t think that will be that difficult. You see, I’ve been in love with you ever since you asked me to slay with you in the forest that one time.”

“Really?” the prince asked.

“Yep,” Simon said. “So, will you marry me?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” the prince replied. And they lived happily ever after.

[forabeatofadrum]

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday, aka calm before the storm. (Getting boostered tomorrow and I’m scared ✌ but I will be... fine 😬). Thank you @facewithoutheart and @bookish-bogwitch for the tag.

I’m going back from Paradiso 3 to Paradiso 2, che col tuo lume mi levasti, since I forgot to add Martin Bunce to the character list on AO3. That’s been rectified. It’s what he deserves! So to make it up to him, have a snippet of him breaking down.

“And look at the Lob’s list, Martin!”

Professor Bunce takes it all in. He’s cross-referencing it himself, to check whether or not my mum and I got it right. We remain silent while professor Bunce checks it all out and I take this moment to eat pasta. (Of course I ordered food.)

“Fuck a nine-toed troll, Lucy,” he mutters after a while.

And I am actually advancing in Hold on to that feeling, my Glee/CO crossover? Can you believe?

Kurt and Blaine walk back to Blaine’s dorm, since it’s the closest to Simon and Baz’s room. Kurt’s talking rapidly, constantly negating what just happened. There must be a logical explanation to this. Maybe Kurt and his parents got hit by a bus on their way to Dalton and this is all a dream.

“That is more logical?” Blaine snorts, “If you got hit by a bus, then why am I here?”

Hewwo @martsonmars @quizasvivamos @esperantoauthor @urban-sith @mostlymaudlin @captain-aralias @blurglesmurfklaine @20xbetterthanu @caramelcoffeeaddict @redheadgleek @wellbelesbian @esperantoauthor

[sourcherrymagiks]

# A Milder March

Good Food

Baz

He comes tumbling in through the door bashing into ever single item of furniture on his catastrophic progress towards me.

"I got them, I flippin did it"

"You absolutely amazing creature, hand them over immediately then kiss me"

He pulls a pack out of his pocket and then crashes his lips into mine. He’s managed the impossible. Like the hero he is. They aren’t available for another week but here they are, six Cadbury Creme Eggs.

I wouldn’t stop snogging him for any less. I dive into mine. Biting the top of and sucking hard at the filling. So good. I concentrate on not sighing.

Simon shifts next to me and coughs into his hand.

“What?"

He blushes and stammers "S’just a bit, well, it’s, fuck it Baz that’s a well sexy way to eat it."

Now I’m blushing too

"What?"

He leans over to take one for himself (I’m shocked at his restraint up until now to be frank)

"Don’t mind me, just keep sucking." He says smiling and still blushing.

I don’t know how it’s possible that in spite of sharing a room for so many years we have never eaten a Creme Egg in front of each other.

I’m sure we haven’t though.

Absolutely positive.

Because if I had seen Simon Snow licking the filling out of a Creme Egg before he was mine I would have immolated.

"Crowley Snow, you’ll kill me."

"What?" He gives me a fake innocent look and then licks again. I’ve got my tongue in his mouth before he can do it again.

"Fuck a nine toed troll, is there anything you two can’t turn into a porno?" Bunce has materialised at the prospect of limited edition chocolate and I could not be less delighted to see her but she’s incessantly fiendish.

She picks her egg up and eats it in two giant bites.

Penelope Bunce has always been a savage, I don’t mind saying.

We both shake our heads at her in a mixture of pity and disgust.

"Oh Penny, I’m going to have to fire you as dread companion for that. It’s just not right"

"If you think that’s bad" she starts and then grabs another "watch this"

She eats it whole and walks out.

Savage.

A Milder March

[fight-surrender]

Whumptober Day 23, 24: “Bleeding Out & Secret Injury”

Word count: 1610

Rating: T 

Simon

“Fuck a nine toed troll!” I curse as I brush the furry grey creature off my shoulder and impale it with my sword. I tend to quote Penny when I do something stupid. Letting this creature get the drop on me was definitely stupid. Particularly given that it’s just taken a chunk out of my arm.

The animal is dangling from the tip of my sword, speared like a particularly gristly hors d’oeuvre. I bring it in for a closer look. It’s almost cute, vaguely guinea pig like, with grey fur tipped in black. Large purple eyes, green whiskers.  Hell and horrors, it’s a polycythema vera.

Penny and Baz are going to kill me. Probably before this bite does.

They’re already angry that I took this job with the coven, rounding up invasive magickal species. Now I’ve gone and gotten myself bitten by one of the very species I was supposed to be hunting.  This is just spectacular.

I flick the creature to the ground and stab it again for good measure.

Baz and Penny said they saw a vera in America, trying to get into Shep’s truck when we were escaping that rogue gang of freakish magical rejects in the dead zone.  Somehow, one must have stowed away with us and now they’ve invaded England. Fortunately, the trolls rather think veras are delicious, so they keep the population in check. However, pockets tend to accumulate in the areas with fewer bridges. The Coven stepped in to help eradicate them and they asked me to help. I suppose that makes me a magickal pest control guy.

Veras aren’t particularly magickal. I think they can teleport for short distances, making them tricky to catch. They pack a nasty bite though. Their toxin does something to your spleen, making you bleed out internally, only your body keeps making more blood. So instead of passing out and dying like a normal person, you just sort of slowly fill up with blood til you like, explode or something. I haven’t really worked out the logistics.

Now I’ve been bitten.

I am not telling Penny and Baz.

Now that I’ve gotten my shit together (thank you new therapist) they have only recently stopped hovering over me. The last thing I need is them wringing their hands while I die a slow painful, possibly explosive death. I suppose I’ll say my goodbyes when things get bad and die alone in the woods, like a cat.

In the meantime, I imagine I should live my life to the fullest. Carpe diem and whatnot.

Baz:

Something is going on with Simon. He’s acting strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, it all just seems a bit…much. We’ve been out almost every day, a different activity. Yesterday, a leisurely tour of the British Museum, followed by curry and samosas in the park (he made me eat). He also made me return the books I stole all those years ago (I can’t believe he remembered that). Saturday was a visit to Ebb’s grave, deep in the wood. Last week we went to Paris, because he’s never been to France (he says the Watford sour cherry scones are still better than any French pastries).

It’s all been enjoyable; he’s been very attentive.

To me.

Loving, affectionate, present.

But it’s weird.

All of this significance. It feels a bit like a bucket list.

I’m trying to enjoy it, but I’ve been feeling off. Not myself. Like I can’t get warm and I can’t get full. I’m thirsty all the time, and nothing I do seems to be helping. I’ve eaten all the rats within a 20-kilometer radius and I’ve even resorted to buying blood from the local butchers. Nothing is helping.

I can’t get Lamb’s voice out of my head, telling me I was malnourished.

I refuse to follow that thought. I’m not—that.

But I’m also getting really tired. Like, exhausted. Like ‘it’s a struggle to get out of bed’ level tired.

I don’t know how much time I’ve got left.

 Simon:

The poison is kicking in. I’m so tired.

Exhausted. Like, I feel as if my arms and legs were lead weights- tired. Dead dog tired.

I’m not sure how much time I’ve got left.

I don’t have to think about that right now because I’m actually in bed. With Baz, and there’s no place I’d rather be.

I’m the big spoon, because I’m always the big spoon. With my arm across his chest I pull him closer and hike my leg across his thigh. I carefully brush his hair away from his ear so I can murmur, “fancy a lie in?”

“Absolutely yes,” Baz croaks, voice thick with sleep. He intertwines his fingers with mine.

We both doze off.

 Baz:

I wake before Simon. It’s an effort just to open my eyes.

I look at his arm, wrapped around my waist. His color is wrong, his once tawny skin is a vague mottled purple, how have I not noticed this?

 Simon:

I open my eyes and look at Baz’s shoulder in front of me. He’s so pale he’s almost transparent. He’s thinner, I can see the bones poking through his skin. How have I not noticed this?

Baz rolls over and fixes me with his thundercloud eyes. “What the fuck is going on, Snow?”

“Er—what do you mean?” I’m stammering, this isn’t how I’d planned this to go.

“You’ve been dragging me through this virtual bucket list lately, you’re acting weird and now you’re purple!”

“It’s not a bucket list.” It is a bucket list.

“Answer the question.” Baz is using his “don’t fuck with me” voice.

Time to come clean then. I pick at an imaginary string on the duvet. “I may have been bitten by a vera.”

Baz’s eyebrows go down and he looks like he’s going to finish me off himself. “What? When? When the fuck were you going to tell me?”

My plan suddenly feels very stupid. “Well, I was going to tell you, when I felt… you know, closer to death.”

“Closer. To. Death?” Baz’s voice cracks. He looks extra murderous.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you to feel all sad and melancholy just because I was dying,” I reason.

Baz sighs and buries his head in my chest. “Simon, you splendid fucking moron.”

I think it might be safe to wrap my arms around his waist and pull him on top of me. I try it.

Baz raises his head and his fangs are popped. Not safe then. “Er—I’m not ready to die just yet, Baz.”

His hand goes to his mouth, I don’t think he realized his fangs were there. “Merlin, I’m a mess,” he says this giddily. “You’re a mess,” he’s laughing now. “We’re a mess squared,” he giggles, it’s a bit manic. He lays his head back on my chest.

I pat his back and smile awkwardly, I don’t laugh. I might blow.

Baz lifts his head again, wiping his eyes. “You see,” he stammers, “I have a problem.”

“OK…?” I offer.

He sits up a little, straddling me. He traces my scars with a long, pale finger. “I’m—starving.”

“Well, let’s order delivery then,” I grab his thighs to push him off so I can find my phone. He plants himself, hands to my chest and I can’t move. Vampire strength.

“No love, it’s not that,” he looks down, takes a breath then looks back at me. “I’m starving—of thirst. “The animal blood doesn’t seem to work anymore…” his voice trails off.

“Oh,” my mouth is hanging open, even though Baz has thoroughly trained me to close it.

“So here I am, the bloodthirsty vampire, dying of thirst,” he cracks up again, “with my half dragon boyfriend who is literally dying of excess blood.” He chortles and wipes his eyes again, “it’s like a goth Hallmark movie special. A match made in hell.”

He’s giggling, but he also looks a little sad.

“So,” I say, once he’s caught his breath. “Just so I have this straight,” I point at him, “you don’t have enough blood.” I point at myself, “and I’ve got too much of it?”

“Yes, that about sums it up,” Baz concedes.

Blimey, what are the odds?” I wonder.

“A million to one, I’d wager,” Baz sighs.

“Well, what are you waiting for, you barmy git? Come over here and bite me.”

“It’s not that simple, Snow.” Baz is frowning at me again.

“It bloody well is that simple, Baz,” I say feeling sparks of anger.

“What if I Turn you?” It’s almost a whisper.

“Shepherd said that most vampires don’t Turn people, and so what if you do? I’m going to die anyway if you don’t do anything.  At least this way, you’ll get a good meal out of it, and we can figure out the rest later. We’ve been through worse.”

Baz pushes my hair off my forehead, “we have been through worse.”

I reach up and pull Baz back down on top of me. He settles on my chest. We’re nose to nose. I run my thumbs along his cheekbones. “Now come on and bite me. You look like shit you know.”

“Thank you, Snow. You’re looking rough and weedy yourself.”

I kiss him then, even though that’s probably not a good idea, given the blood lust.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

“No.”

“Will you do it anyway?”

“Yes.”

“I love you, Baz.”

“I love you too, Simon.”

I close my eyes, and then, in a rush of warmth and cedar and bergamot, Baz bites my neck.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

whumptober day 8, 10, 11, 12

Ok I’m totally falling apart as far as staying on schedule here so tonight you are getting another combo fic, incorporating four prompts!!

Day 8: Stabbed

Day 10: Unconscious

Day 11: Stitches

Day 12: Don’t Move!

Penelope

It started off easily enough. Cross the water to Long Island, a uninhabited islet near Hampshire. It didn’t take us all that long to get there. Langstone Harbour is a little over an hour from Watford.

Took longer than that with the bus but there’s no helping it.

I must say the Mage is simply terrible with logistics. He saddles Simon with missions but never tells him how to get there or how to get back. He doesn’t even spring for tickets or reimburse Simon for expenses. I’ve half a mind to send a letter to the Faculty Board or the Coven but I don’t want my mother getting wind that I’m helping Simon. I’d probably be able to hear her yell from here. And Morgana knows what spell she’d magic up to stop me from helping again.

I’m not going to risk that. I’d rather deal with the Mage’s stingy ways than have my mother find out what we’re doing.

It turned out that this place isn’t much of an island at all, name notwithstanding, although my preparatory research did reveal that it was inhabited in the Bronze Age and even up into Roman times. That’s why the Mage wanted us to go there.

There’s some sort of talisman he’s discovered through scrying. I didn’t think the Mage believed in crystal balls or images in pools of enchanted spring water.  Simon says he uses all available means of magical discovery and that scrying is a fairly common practice in Wales. That’s where the Mage is from. Simon says he rarely speaks of it.

We made our way to the island right before dusk and I magicked up a causeway. Simon wanted to steal a boat. Why steal when we can use magic? A stolen boat leaves a trail, a memory for the Normals, something out of the ordinary. A magickal causeway and a judicious “through a glass darkly” is all that’s necessary for something like this. No one will even know we were here.

Or so I thought. The Mage neglected to mention that this island is protected by the Mer people. And that this talisman has some magical significance to them. Typical.

We made it over without incident and I cast a few finding spells, using a sketch of the talisman the Mage had provided. It took about an hour but we found it, plucked it out from the center of a stone mound and stashed it in Simon’s pocket, wrapped in a scrap of cloth.

One of Baz’s linen handkerchiefs to be accurate. Simon can be so petty sometimes.

It took a fair bit of magic to keep the causeway up that long—the island was a fair distance from the coast, and the span wasn’t as simple as a footbridge across a river or ravine, like I’ve done before. I could feel my magic waning as we made our way back across.

Which is, of course, when the Mer people showed up. They rose up out of the water, on either side of the causeway. Dark-haired men, heavily muscled, wielding tridents at us. Mer people have their own kind of magic and they don’t particularly like anything crossing over their watery domains. Particularly not mages. There is all kinds of history there, none of it good.

I could see my causeway start to shimmer ahead of us. We only had a short distance to go, the shore wasn’t that far ahead, but then the causeway had flickered completely away in front of us, leaving me and Simon balanced on the edge. I darted a look behind me.

Merlin’s teeth. They’d erased it behind us too. We were stuck on the little remnant, surrounded by them.

Reasoning didn’t work. Simon called the Sword of Mages and made quick work of a few of them, slashing through their tridents and slicing some arms off as he did. It got a bit ugly then. Simon got blurry at the edges, like he gets when his magic rises up. He was moving so fast I could barely keep his sword in sight. He had me tucked behind him with a “can’t touch this.”

I don’t know why he didn’t do it over himself too but Simon never casts protective spells on himself.

He won’t weatherize himself either, even if it’s pouring rain. I don’t know if he forgets or he’s just incapable of doing it. I think he just forgets. He doesn’t think of himself that way, as needing a shield or a defense. Just everyone else.

We were outnumbered and Mer people are fierce when they’re feeling slighted. Or anytime they’ve got strangers near them, to be honest. I was trying to cast nets and churn up the water but it was difficult to cast when I was stuck behind Simon and hard to avoid getting him tangled up or knocking him off this remnant of my causeway.

A trident had whipped in front of my legs but the spell held it off.

Simon hadn’t been so lucky. He got speared in the side by another raging Mer-man. It was enough of a shock to make him go off. We ended up on the shore, under a tree.

It takes me a moment to clear my head and brush the sand off me. That’s when I get a look at Simon.

He’s bleeding and there’s a huge gash along his side. It looks like he got stabbed and then the trident tore along the surface of his flesh. It’s nasty looking.

Wide. Gaping. Blood pouring out of it.

“Don’t look at me like that, Penny. I’ll be fine. Just give me a “get well soon” and I’ll be alright.”

His breathing is too fast.

I point my ring at him and it gives me a half-hearted glow. Fuck a goblin. I need more power than this. I point it at him and cast a “get well soon” and a “right as rain.” The bleeding slows up and his breathing slows too, but the wound is still there.

I can’t think of any other spells right now. “Early to bed” comes to me and I cast it. Simon grabs my hand. “It’s all right, Penny. It’s better. I can manage.”

He can’t, the great thumping git. He’s got a bleeding hole in him, literally a bleeding hole, and a good eight-inch gash along his flank.

I need help. I don’t know how I’m going to get him back to Watford. The bus will take too long and we’ll draw too much attention if he’s bleeding on the bus. I doubt a “nothing to see here” will last long enough, the way I’m casting right now.

I find a blanket in a rowboat nearby and I cast “sanitized for your protection” on it before I tear it into strips to bind Simon’s wound with it. I make it snug enough that he gasps when I tighten the last bit.

“Bloody hell, Penny.” “I can’t have you bleeding out, Simon.” My voice is curt but I pull his arm over my shoulder and we limp our way to the station. He rallies a bit for the trip home.

It feels like we’re traveling forever.

We finally make our way to Watford by cab and blast it, the bloody drawbridge is up already. Fuck a nine-toed troll. I am going to skin the Mage the next time I see him, I swear to Merlin.

What am I going to do with Simon? I need to get him inside, I need to get him to the infirmary. We’re standing here, staring at the drawbridge, at the moat, at the gap between us and the wall, trying to figure out what to do.

Simon chooses this exact moment to pass out. He slumps right down, sliding away from me and falling into a heap at the moat’s edge. I drag him back. The mer-wolves have a keen sense of smell and I wouldn’t put it past one of them to crawl up out of the water to investigate the scent. They have a unnerving nose for blood.

I’ve had enough of bloody mer-creatures for one night, thank you very much.

I’m wracking my brain trying to think of a way to contact Agatha. If I could reach her she could get the nurse or the Mage or even Miss Possibelf, if the Mage is gone. He’s gone half the time as it is. He sends us off on these blasted missions and isn’t here to claim the artefact he sent us to find in the first place, the barmy bastard.

I’m on my knees casting “get well soon” on Simon again when I hear a voice calling my name.

“Bunce?”

I look up to the ramparts and see Baz’s pale face shining in the moonlight.

“What the devil are you doing out there, Bunce? And what have you done to Snow?”

Beggars can’t be choosers. Baz Pitch is a blessed sight at the moment.

“Stop chattering, Basilton Pitch, and help me. Simon’s hurt and I can’t get across the moat.”

He frowns down at me and for a moment I think he’s going to turn away. Next thing I know he’s over the ramparts and floating down across the moat, calm and collected, as if he casts “float like a butterfly” every day.

“What’s the situation?” he asks, as he lands, sinking to his knees next to Simon. I can see why Simon gets irritated with him. He even makes kneeling in the mud look elegant.

I give him as vague a story as I can. He shakes his head at me. “Can’t the Mage do his own dirty work?”

It’s startlingly close to my own opinion on the matter. It was fun and exciting the first years. But we’re sixth years now and it’s getting a bit irritating to always be at the Mage’s beck and call. It would be nice if he did some of this on his own. I don’t know why it always has to be Simon.

Baz’s grey eyes meet mine. “I don’t know if I can carry him over the wall with the spell,” he says.

I know that.

“And I can’t magic the drawbridge down.”

I know that, too.

“Can you get the nurse, Basil? Or Miss Possibelf?”

He looks down at Simon then and in an uncharacteristic motion takes Simon’s hand in his, pressing his fingertips to Simon’s wrist. “His heart’s racing. How bad is he hurt?”

“Bad enough. I got the bleeding to slow down but the gash wouldn’t heal.”

Baz’s nostrils flare at my words.

Oh fuck.

I point my ring at him, leaning over Simon menacingly. I hope I look menacing. I’m not sure. I probably just look tired. “Don’t move, Baz. Stay back.”

He knocks my hand away. “Calm down, Bunce. I’m not going to hurt him. I may loathe Snow but this is perhaps the least sporting way to inflict damage on him.” His expression softens. “Let me help.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you either. Now will you shut up and let me help or not? You’ve dragged me into this, I may as well make myself useful.”

His wand is in his hand and he’s pointing it at Simon. I want to push him away. I want to shout at him to stop.

I want him to help me.

He casts a “get well soon” and I can feel the power of it. I press my fingertips to the blanket bandages and they come away wet.

“I think we’ve got to close the wound. I think that’s the only way we’ll get the spells to actually take.”

“Unwrap it then.”

“Can you handle it, Basil?” I’ve never addressed this with him. I’m not even sure I believe Simon. About Baz being a vampire.

But I can’t risk it. I can’t risk Simon.

Baz raises one eyebrow and quirks his lip. “I can handle a little blood, Bunce.”

Baz

Aleister Crowley, I hope I’m right. Thank magic I fed just a bit ago. I’ve got a full belly, blood sloshing through me still. The rats were plentiful tonight and I was thirsty.

It should be fine. Everything should be fine.

The scent of Snow’s blood hit me when I was still up on the ramparts. It’s what made me look down. I know that scent.

I’d recognize it anywhere.

I’ve smelled it all too often; from when I’ve hit him myself, from all the nights he’s crawled into bed after one of the Mage’s missions.

He smells like bacon and warm cinnamon buns. Like hazelnut coffee and campfire smoke.

He smells good enough to eat.

I can’t let myself think like this.

I have to do this. I have to help Simon.

“It’s fine, Bunce. Unwrap the layers yourself, if you don’t trust me.” That keeps me from getting blood on my hands. I don’t know if I could handle that right now.

Bunce meets my eyes and we stare at each other for a long moment. Then she nods and unwraps what looks like a plaid fleece blanket from around Snow’s waist.

The gash is ugly. It’s ragged and a good six inches in length, gaping near the stab wound but tapering off at the end. There isn’t much active bleeding. It seems the spells have at least managed that.

I don’t know how to heal a wound. I’ve not had to do this before. Experimentation seems a bit risky. I try to think of something that might bring the edges together but my mind is a bit of a blank, between the glimpse of Snow’s freckled skin and the rising scent of his blood surrounding me. I may be a tad woozy from it all.

Bunce shoves me. “Do something.”

“I’m trying to think what to do.”

She huffs. “If you can’t think of a way to seal the wounds then we’ll just have to stitch him up.”

“You must be joking.”

“I’m waiting for a better idea from you.”

She’ll be waiting a long time then. I’m blank other than healing spells so I hit Snow with a few more of those to stall for time. The wound narrows a bit and the bleeding stops completely, thank magic.

He’s still out cold. Blood loss and shock, I’m assuming.

“A stitch in time” I cast and a threaded needle shimmers in front of me. I’m not sure if I should use my wand or my hand to direct it. Bunce makes the decision for me. She grabs the needle and starts to make the first stitch. She manages to make three uneven stitches before she groans and covers her face with her hands.

“Ugh. I don’t know if I can do this.” “What do you mean you don’t know if you can do this? You asked me to help. I’m helping. Come along now, Bunce, stitch away.”

“I can’t. It’s awful. The way the needle feels going through his skin and the way his flesh quivers when I do it.” She shakes her head. “You do it.”

I stare at her. “You can’t be serious.”

The glare she shoots me over her glasses is menacing. Bunce can be quite terrifying when she chooses.

I bite my lips. I do not want to touch Snow’s skin. That would be an absolutely terrible idea. I may want to trace the constellations of moles that dot his chest and abdomen but now is most certainly not the time for that.

What am I thinking? There’s never going to be a time for that.

I shake my head to clear it.

I really can’t afford to get any of his blood on my hands.

I lean over him, wand pointed at the needle Bunce has abandoned on Snow’s skin. “I’ve got this all sewn up.” I make the sewing motions with my wand and the needle parallels my movements, slowly stitching up the wide wound, inch by inch. I make her tie the knot when I’m done.

She casts a “sanitized for your protection” on the blanket remnants, which is truly an inspired spell. I’ll have to remember that one.

Once she’s got Snow all bandaged again, she moves to place his head on her lap, gently stroking the hair off his face.

I imagine it’s me doing that. I think about how his curls would slip through my fingers, how the calluses on my fingertips would catch in his hair. How I’d stroke the side of his cheek . . . bloody hell, I need to stop this.

I drag my eyes away.

“Anything else I can do, Bunce?”

“Cast another healing spell, would you, Basil?”

I cast another healing spell. And another. Just in case.

I don’t think I can magic Bunce and Snow over the wall. We’ll just have to wait until morning, when the drawbridge comes down. Or flag the goatherd down at sunrise and have her magic us over. Fiona says she may be unassuming to look at but she’s a powerhouse when she chooses.

I wouldn’t know.

The night is getting cooler and the breeze picks up. I magic my coat into a blanket and Bunce does the same with her jacket. We wrap them around Snow and huddle together for warmth, Snow’s head still pillowed on Bunce’s lap.

He’s inches away, closer than he’s ever been before, except when we’ve been fighting.

It’s too much, having him here like this, so close, so still, so quiet. It’s unnerving. I’m worried that he hasn’t woken up yet. I’m worried he’s lost too much blood. I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong though and I try to convince myself it’s just exhaustion and blood loss.

I can’t help it. I reach over and lay my cold hand on his forehead. It feels warm but not too warm. What would I know? I’m not a normal temperature myself.

Snow turns his head into my palm and rubs his forehead against my hand. I snatch it back, not daring to meet Bunce’s eyes.

She places her hand where mine was. “He’s not running a fever, if that’s what you’re worried about, Basil.”

“I’m not worried. Just thought I’d check is all.”

I get another one of Bunce’s penetrating stares. I don’t say anything. I just lean back against the tree we’re huddled under and tilt my head up to look at the stars.

I follow the patterns of the stars but what I see in my head are the patterns on Snow’s skin.

It’s going to be a long night.

[schreibfeather]

Penny has officially corrupted me. I now say “Fuck a nine-toed troll” at least once a day. (It sounds amazing in a posh rp accent :D)

Penny is a character in a book btw. She’s amazing.

[mintaero]

i bet on losing terms

snowbaz watching FIFA!

“You aren’t exempt from bets just because we’re boyfriends. In fact, you’re more susceptible to petty bargains just because we’re snogging.”

read on Ao3

SIMON

Baz has gone completely and utterly bat-shit crazy.

He always gets like this during the World Cup, all aggressive and hostile. He’s been shouting at the TV since half time, and I don’t think he’s realized that the people on the other side can’t hear him. Last FIFA, Baz nearly broke the television remote when Germany won because he was gripping it so deathly hard.

“Baz, settle down,” Penelope croons from the sofa, not looking up. She’s typing away furiously on her computer, her hair piled in a messy ball on the top of her head. She’s been working on her thesis statement for days, yet somehow, she can find time to watch the World Cup with us.

“Fuck off, Bunce. Brazil and Switzerland are going.” He’s sat back down on the couch—finally—but he still looks like he’s about to jump back up and pounce on the television at any given moment.

“Who do we want to win?” I ask, readjusting myself on the ground beside Baz’s feet.

The announcer on the TV mumbles something about a player being apparently injured, and Baz curses.

“What was that, Simon?” Baz arches his eyebrow but doesn’t look at me. I accidentally bump my wing on his back, and he scoots forward like he thinks I’ve just asked him to.

“Who—”

“YES, ALISSON!’ Baz shouts, springing up and rubbing his hands together. He’s glaring at the TV with a sort of manic energy. He’s a manic person.

I sigh and throw my head back. There’s no talking to him when he’s like this. “You’re going to break the sound barrier.”

Baz glances down at me. Only for a second. “Bunce, please explain to Snow that breaking the sound barrier only occurs when you go fast. Not when you’re loud.”

“Heed his words, Simon.” Penny stops typing and looks at me.

“Come on, Marcelo. Come on, come on, come on,” Baz chants. He gets so into FIFA, it’s not even funny. Living and breathing it until a winner is announced, and then suddenly he’s back to his usual self. He always seems so much healthier and alive when the World Cup is playing.

Baz is the only person I know who gets less stressed when FIFA’s on. Maybe not less stressed, but he forgets to focus on the usual things that stress him out. Like university or eating. Baz has been a prick about eating. Lately, it’s a win if I get him to snack on some crisps, let alone a full meal. Maybe I take back what I said about Baz being healthier.

Penelope slams her computer closed a little too harshly and stands up, stretching her arms over her head. I reach over and try to tug down her skirt that’s bunched up a bit too high on her thighs, but she swats my hand away and does it herself.

“I’m going to get out. My thesis statement isn’t going anywhere, and Baz is going mental and I can’t stand another minute of it. You want to come, Simon?” She unties her bun and shakes her hair out.

I consider getting up to sit on the couch, but I don’t want to feel the springs of the couch move every time Baz jumps up, so I stay sat on the space between the couch and the coffee table and pull my legs up to my chest. “Where’re you going?”

“Tesco’s, probably. Are you coming?”

“No, I don’t think so. Will you get me something there?”

Penny rests her hand on her hip and tilts her head to the side. “Like what, ‘mon?”

“I dunno. Roast beef sandwich? Scones? Do you think we’re getting low on butter?” My stomach rumbles at the thought of a warm cherry scone with butter spread over the top and slowly melting. Since Watford, my accessibility to really good sour cherry scones have gone down dramatically, so I get by with mediocre biscuits and I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! butter. (Baz frequently tries to remind me that I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! isn’t butter.) (“It’s margarine, Snow. Margarine is different from butter.”)

“Simon, we’re never low on butter. I’ll get you a chocolate sweet, yeah? Baz, you want—”

“No, thank you, Bunce. I’d rather no—Oh, oh, OH! OH!” The red-jersey football player on the screen headbutts the ball and scores a goal. Two more instant replays of the goal are shown in slow motion, and Baz is practically screeching his head off. I get the feeling that no one quite expected the red-jerseys to get a goal. Baz surely didn’t, either, because he’s cursing like a drunken Scottish banshee. (Those things are little shits if you ever meet them. Especially the Scottish ones. Wit as sharp as a blade, but the darkest sense of humour.)

Penny tuts. “Honestly, Baz. If you’re going to curse like a basic American white girl turned into a banshee—” even she knows “—then do it privately. It’s unsettling.”

Baz makes concise eye contact. Precisely, he enunciates each word, “Fuck a nine-toed fucking troll, Penelope goddamn Bunce. Fucking Switzerland just scored a mother ass-fucking son-of-a-bitch goal with a shitting-on-your-nipples fucking headbutt. I am the fucking one who’s fucking unsettled.”

Penelope’s face twists like she just drank some rank Ribena. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Don’t forget—”

“Chocolate sweets, yeah, I know. See you.”

“See you.”

And then she’s out the door. She didn’t take her car keys, so I know that Micah’s probably out front right now, waiting for her at the bottom of our flat.

“Baz. Would you sit down?”

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Bunce. Fuck. Off.”

“No, you.” I push myself off the ground. “I’m going to make a sandwich.”

“I don’t want one.”

“I know. I wasn’t going to ask you.”

He mutters something too low for me to hear, so I push myself off the floor and head towards the kitchen. I dig around the fridge for sandwich supplies, then to the pantry for bread and crisps. (Salt-and-Vinegar, the bastard.) (He knows I don’t like those.)

Laying everything out on the counter, I glance at Baz. He looks near to throttling someone. I’ve never known that he actually likes to watch football games rather than play in them; for him, I always thought playing football was more of a pastime. A diversion for everything that was at stake.

It fit that I’m wrong about him. I was wrong about everything before, so. Naturally.

He runs his hand through his hair, resting it on the crown of his head before pulling it through the rest of his locks. He’s switching his weight between both legs consistently, and it’s making me anxious.

“You’re making me anxious,” I say. “Stop pacing.”

“I’m not pacing.” He snarls, a bit brashly. “I think they’re going to tie.”

“Who?”

“Who?” Baz echoes, looking back at me and sneering. Crowley, I thought we were past the sneering by now. “What do you mean, who? Switzerland and Brazil. I think they’re going to tie.”

“Rubbish. Brazil is mighty fit, they’ll win for sure.”

He shakes his head and turns back to the screen, watching it intently. I go back to making my sandwich.

“I bet you £20 that Brazil’ll win,” I say, slicing a tomato cleanly down the middle. When he turns back around, an eyebrow is arched as high as his widow’s peak.

“Fifty.”

I groan. “C’mon Baz, it’s just a bet. Twenty’s fair.”

“It’s fair,” he grins wickedly, and I feel heat crawl up my neck. “But it isn’t fun.”

“Fine. Forty.” I mush the two halves of the sandwich into one and take a bite. “That’s the highest I’ll go.”

“Deal,” he flops back on the couch, kicking his feel up on the coffee table and stretching his arms on top of either side of the couch. “Also, you’re a terrible negotiator. I would’ve gone down to thirty if you’d asked.”

“Fuck you, Baz. Seriously.”

“Ah, no. That would be you that just got fucked and lost £40 to me.”

Forty fucking pounds. I can tell there are roses on my cheeks even before I brush my knuckles against them. The only reason I’m blushing is because he just implied that I was fucked by him. By Baz. He can’t just say that.

Crowley.

I set my sandwich back down on the counter and open the cupboard, reaching for a plate. (Penelope always scolds me when I get crumbs on the couch.)

“Sh-Fucking hell!” Baz yells from the living room. He startles me so badly that my wings fly open and my tail starts whipping around by my hips and I jerk my hand back down to my side.

He’s mental.

“Baz!” I gasp. “Don’t do that!”

He looks back at me, and I can tell from the way that his expression softens that he just realises he’s scared me. “Sorry, love. It was a really close goal.”

Absolutely mental, I tell you.

Baz looks back at the match, and I huff at the ground. My sandwich has dropped. Knocked off by my tail, more like, but still. There are bits of tomato and lettuce strewn about, and one half of the bread is sticking to the bottom cabinet. I squat down and start peeling the cheese and such off the tiles and wood, grimacing.

I shouldn’t have used the good cheese.

It takes me a second to get back from the squat, but I manage to make it up without all the blood flowing to my head. (Merlin, it’s not like I’m elderly.) The tomatoes are leaking in my hand, so I bumble to the bin and dump my hand.

Setting aside the deflating realisation that I don’t have enough mental compacity to make another sandwich, I shake some crisps into the nearest thing on the counter, which happens to be a (thankfully, clean) mug. I bring the mug back to the couch and flop down alongside of Baz, daring to rest my head on his shoulder. He made me drop my sandwich. He can live without moving for a few minutes as I grieve.

“I hope you’ve got your £40 on hand,” Baz says, his shoulders tensing when a player on screen kicks the ball and narrowly misses the goal. “Because you just lost the bet.”

I shake my head, popping a few crisps in my mouth. “There’s still stoppage time.”

“You’re placing your remaining hope on the very last 2-3 minutes of the game? How very calculating you are,” Baz pulls his head away and looks at me. “And you chew like a hyena.”

I shove him a bit, picking my head up off his shoulder and grabbing another handful of crisps. “Isn’t it laugh?”

He looks at me funny. “Beg your pardon?”

“I mean,” I kick my legs up on the coffee table. “Don’t hyenas have that bloody insane laugh?”

“Yes, they quite do. However, my laugh is going to be just as ridiculous when you hand over forty pounds.”

I groan. “So bloody cocky.”

“It’s not like I spelt the match in my favour, now is it?”

My eyes widen. “You didn’t.”

He laughs. High and quick. “No, I didn’t. It’s in Russia for Crowley’s sakes; my magic can’t stretch that far.”

I relax into the cushions and try to focus on the screen, silently urging any team to score again. I really could give less of a crap who scores, but someone needs to. I’ll be damned to Slough if I have to pay Baz half my daily paycheck.

There’re twenty more minutes until the 90-minute mark, so I munch anxiously on some more crisps and try to focus my nerves on the stoppage time. The minutes tick by slowly, slowly, slowly, until I feel myself fighting to keep my eyes open. It really isn’t an exciting game. I could always just…simply nod off. Even for a few minutes.

A few minutes won’t hurt anyone…

“Simon?” Baz pinches my arm, and I pull my elbow away. Somehow, I’ve managed to curl up on the opposite side of Baz, my face smushed into the sofa. “Snow, wake up. The match is over.”

I open my groggy eyes and groan. “Mmpgh. Is it?”

“Yeah, you fell asleep.” Baz pokes at my cheek. “Also, guess what.”

I roll over, my wing stretching out in the space beside me. Where Baz is. “What?”

I feel the heat of his breath as he leans down to whisper in my ear, the hairs on my arms standing up as he says, “You owe me forty pounds.”

Fuck.

The bet.

I sit up fully, matting the side of my hair back down with my hand. “I want to see the score.”

“Get up, then.”

“I am up.”

“No—Get your phone and check the score. It’s not going to change the fact that you, Snow, just lost £40 to me with a picayune and trifling bet.”

There’s a sort of silence in the air, and it’s because, I realise too late, that the TV is turned off. I shove Baz over to his own side and reach for the coffee table, where my phone is, and unlock it.

According to a Google search, Baz is right.

Christ and Crowley’s Christmas, that bloody wanker. He’s right. The match ended in a tie, and I’d missed it.

“Baz,” I throw my phone back on the couch and stand up. “Don’t I get a discount since we’re shagging?”

It takes Baz a full 30 seconds to recover from that. Stuttering slightly with a newfound pink tinge on his cheeks, he says, “You aren’t exempt from bets just because we’re boyfriends. In fact, you’re more susceptible to petty bargains just because we’re snogging.”

I groan again. My wallet’s in the armoire by the front door, so I drag my feet all the way there, giving Baz the middle finger the whole way.

“I can’t believe you’re making me pay you.” I open the drawer and chuck my wallet at Baz. It hits him in the chest. Good. “Take only forty.”

Baz grins at me. There’s still a hint of pink on his cheeks. “Calm down, Snow. I’m not going to embezzle money from you.”

“Like you are right now?”

“You lost a bet, fair and square. Stop whining about it.” Baz neatly removes two twenties out of my wallet, placing it in the back of his jeans and then tossing it back to me. I grab it just before it slips out of my hands and put it back on the drawer.

“Next game, you owe me forty.”

“That isn’t…That isn’t how it works, Simon.”

I scoff, raking my hand through my hair and walking back to the couch. “You’re buying dinner tonight.”

“Technically, you ar—”

“Fuck. Off.”

Baz smiles again, and I have to look away. He settles back into the sofa with a cheeky grin on his face (I can’t decide whether I want to kick or kiss it off) and turns back on the television. It’s paused on a match recap directly following the actual match, the two broadcasters have frozen mid-sentence, lips parted.

I make sure to keep my knees and wings far away from him as I sit on the couch. He’s still grinning. I’ve gotten more accustomed to his smile, it’s more of a lighthearted sneer than anything.

“Could you move ove—”

Baz swings his legs over mine and sits right in my leg. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, as the side of my leg is shoved up his crotch and he’s more or less standing over me than sitting on me.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Me, giving you your money’s worth.”

Before I can ask what in Crowley’s name that’s supposed to mean and how it relates to a bet, he’s holding my jaw and shutting me up with his lips.

Maybe this time won’t be an implied fucking.

[femslashy]

solemates

written for @bazinjeanstm‘s birthday!! :D

length: 631

genre(s): fluff

triggers/warnings: i’d avoid this if you don’t like feet tbh but otherwise it’s clean

AU where your soulmate’s name appears on the bottom of your foot. Canon compliant post-Watford established relationship goodness ( ﾉ ^ヮ^ )ﾉﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNA!!!!! DO U KNOW HOW HARD THIS WAS TO KEEP A SECRET IT WAS SO HARD BUT YAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! UR OLD!!

Simon

Baz doesn’t believe in soulmates.

He’d told me once, in sixth year, during a fight. (Well, he’d laughed when I’d said Agatha was my soulmate, which is practically the same thing.) (Probably.)

Now that we’re together, Baz claims he still doesn’t believe. I suspect he’s just scared. Probably thinks vampires can’t have soulmates or something ridiculous like that.

He doesn’t believe we need something to tie us together like that. And neither do I, not really. Just–well it would be nice, wouldn’t it? To know that the person you’ve chosen to spend your life with is the person you're meant to be with. To have that sort of certainty. To know you’ve found the one.

A tiny voice in the back of my head tells me that the universe has had plenty of time to give us a hint; years, in fact. If we were really meant to be together, shouldn’t the names have shown up already?

I push that thought away. Obviously we weren’t ready; no one finds their soulmate that young. (Except maybe Penny. But she doesn’t count; her boyfriend is American.)

Something feels different about tonight. My foot’s been itching like crazy. I’ve barely been able to sleep. Now the feeling is shifting, moving from an itch to a burn to…nothing. It feels fine.

I’m almost scared to look. I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’d wake Baz up if I wasn’t afraid I was imagining things.

And then I do. Look, that is.

Fuck a nine-toed troll.

Finally.

Baz

There’s a foot on my pillow. That’s the first thing I see when I open my eyes.

A foot.

It’s Snow’s, I think. (Not that I spend a lot of time staring at his feet, just–we’d been roommates since we were 11. I’ve seen his feet.) That leads me to wonder exactly why Snow’s feet are on my pillow, and what is– “Baz!” It’s muffled by the duvet, but I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Snow whispers again, urgently, “Baz!” and then…what the fuck?

“Did you just kiss my foot?” Merlin, is this the point in our relationship where Snow reveals his foot fetish? Wings and a tail are one thing, but a– “No,” he says, and he sounds like he’s grinning. “I kissed my name.”

“What?” Fuck, surely he doesn’t mean what I think he means.

“Merlin, Baz, didn’t you feel it? The itch? The burn? Then…” he trails off, looking like he’s searching for the word. “The sense of…the sense of..fuck, I don’t know. Rightness. Like everything–like the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place.”

I blink slowly. “What are you on about?”

“I’ve got a name on my foot.”

“I’m aware.”

“It’s your name. And you’ve got mine.”

What.

“That can’t be right, Snow,” I say snidely, “I’m not even alive.”

He sighs, sounding exasperated. “We’re not going over this again. You’re alive. Alive enough for a soulmate, even.”

“But I’ve seen your foot, just now. There’s nothing there.”

Snow lazily kicks the duvet away, and I see it, on the bottom of his other foot.

It’s my name. So that must mean…

I sit up so fast that I narrowly miss kicking Snow in the face. (I do, however, clip a wing with my toe; I don’t miss his small grimace, as much as he tries to hide it.) Grabbing my ankle, I pull my leg so that the bottom of my foot is visible and–

Bloody hell, he’s serious. It’s there.

Snow’s never going to let me live this down.

“For the record,” I say, “I still maintain that the idea of soulmates is–” And that’s all I manage to get out before he tackles me. My head hits the pillow as his lips hit mine, and I feel it. That connection.

And I believe.

[carry-on-kissing-snowbaz]

Werewolf Adventures (Spooky Week Day 7)

Just a fun little fic in which Baz and Simon go looking for a werewolf in the Wavering Wood. Happy Halloween everyone! @snowbazspookyweek

Word Count: 1.8k

Baz

Snow was driving Baz mad. He kept pacing the floor in their room like he was on the verge of an epiphany and gnawing at his bottom lip. Baz felt the brief urge to offer to do that part for him but quickly dismissed the idea. Much as he wanted to, offering lip-gnawing sexual services would not be a good idea.

“Snow can you place sit like a good dog and stop pacing the rug?” Baz asked, irritably.

Snow stopped, glaring at him.

“Do you not care at all about the loose werewolf?” Simon asked.

Baz shrugged.

“He’s a student. I thought you’d be on his side, what with him having magic and all that.”

Snow rolled his eyes.

“Of course I’m on his side. But it’s a full moon tonight.”

“It’s also Halloween,” Baz said, “A night when students like to have fun. He’s probably just blowing off some midterm steam in the Wavering Wood.”

Snow took an unconscious step towards Baz.

“He was dared to go in Baz. Jared has never gone in the Wavering Wood before. Even if he manages to stay, well Jared, when he transforms, he might still get lost.”

Baz sighed.

“You managed pretty well during your first Wavering Wood visit.”

Snow frowned.

“I went off and made a decent crater in the woods, I don’t think Jared and I are comparable.”

Baz studied Snow’s face, trying to figure out why Snow had allowed the conversation to go on as long as it had.

“Why not take Bunce out for an evening stroll then? I’m sure the two of you could find him,” Baz said.

“She went home to help pass out candy,” Snow said.

“And Wellbelove?” Baz asked.

Snow dropped his eyes away.

“She hates the Wavering Wood,” Snow said, “And besides, we’re not really talking right now.”

Baz frowned.

“Why not?”

“We broke up,” Snow said, flatly.

Baz felt a surge of excitement and then an instant answering feeling of guilt. Snow was obviously unhappy about the breakup and there Baz was feeling like he’d won the lottery. It was messed up and he owed Snow, even if Snow didn’t know anything about it. 

“I’ll go with you,” Baz said.

Snow blinked in surprise.

“You…you will?” 

Baz sat up and put on his shoes.

“It’s obvious you’re trying to get me to go with you. So let’s go,” Baz said.

Snow grabbed a sweatshirt and threw it over his head quickly.

“We have to be careful, Jared might be afraid and dangerous.”

Baz noticed that Snow didn’t correct him about his previous statement. Had Snow actually been trying to get Baz to go with him?

“Don’t worry,” Baz said as they left, “I’m using you as a human shield.”

Simon

Simon had been in the Wavering Wood with Baz only a handful of times and all of them had been against his best wishes. This time though, he had practically asked Baz to come with him. Whether Baz wanted to admit to it or not, Simon knew he was a vampire. He hoped that having Baz come along would help them find Jared faster.

A small part of him wanted Baz there simply because he wanted to be near him. Simon tried to ignore that part.

Simon was not worried for himself. If Jared attacked them in earnest he knew Baz’s spellwork was good enough to immobilize him. He only hoped that they could get to Jared before anyone else, or anything else, could.

“What is it that you think is out to get Jared?” Baz asked.

“Well,” Simon said, “Anything I suppose. The Wavering Wood is fucked up.”

Baz laughed.

“Truer words have never been spoken,” He said.

Simon felt his heart thump unevenly when Baz laughed. Cursing to himself, he tried to get ahold of his feelings. It was not the time to get goofy with Baz in the woods.

“So why did you and Wellbelove break up?” Baz asked.

“What?” Simon asked, suddenly panicked.

As he said this, he forgot to duck under the tree branch Baz had just pushed up and walked under. The branch smacked him in the face.

“Fuck a nine toed troll!” Simon shouted, covering his face.

Baz turned and swore.

“Can you please watch where you’re going? The plan isn’t to run face first into Jared, is it?”

Simon felt slight pressure on his arm. When he opened his eyes he found that Baz had grabbed his arm to steer him forward. He glanced at Simon’s face.

“Is something wrong?” Baz asked.

Simon shook his head, unable to speak.

Baz studied his face for a moment, and then his hair.

Simon felt his breath leave him as Baz raised a hand to touch his hair. He had barely ruffled Simon’s curls when he brought something to Simon’s face.

“You had a leaf in your hair,” Baz explained.

Simon felt his whole face go red.

“Thanks,” He said.

They continued to walk. Simon watched as every now and then Baz’s nose flared unnaturally. He knew this was his way of tracking Jared. Simon wondered if Baz knew Jared’s scent or if he was just tracking for a werewolf in general.

“So,” Baz said, “Wellbelove, break up, what happened there?”

Simon bit his lip.

“Well we’d kinda grown apart,” Simon said.

Baz sneered.

“That’s it? Three years together and you end it because of that?”

Simon felt himself get defensive.

“You’ve never been in a relationship, you don’t know. It’s enough to make you need a break.”

That made Baz quiet.

Simon softened a bit.

“There was more though,” Simon said.

“Well, don’t make me wait all night,” Baz said.

Simon looked down at his feet. As much as he hated the Wavering Wood there was something satisfying about the crunch noises his feet made as he stepped on the multicolor tree leaves. Even in the dark of night he could see the flashes of red and yellow underfoot. 

“I liked someone else,” Simon said, quietly.

Baz stayed quiet for a moment.

“And who’s the lucky girl?” He asked.

Simon felt the desire to be honest, to lay his feelings on the line. It was Halloween night, the time of year that people put on masks in order to do things they would never normally do. But they weren’t trick-or-treating and Simon didn’t have a mask to hide behind. 

“Not the lucky girl,” Simon said.

Baz was a few steps ahead of Simon. He watched as Baz’s back muscles tightened. 

“Unlucky girl then?” Baz asked.

Simon stopped walking.

“I…Baz I need to tell you something, I think that I like…” 

Baz turned to look at him, his face unreadable.

“Simon…”

Baz

Baz refused to believe it was possible. Snow was standing there, cheeks red like overripe apples and his eyes downcast. It didn’t make any sense for Snow to like him. Was this the part where Snow started to laugh and tell Baz what a good trick he’d pulled off? But no, Snow seemed rigid with real emotion.

“Simon…”

Suddenly Snow’s whole expression changed. His eyes went wide and Baz watched as his hand flickered instinctively to his side.

With a feeling of dread, Baz opened up his senses.

“There’s a werewolf behind me isn’t there?” Baz asked.

Snow nodded, eyes glazed with fear.

Baz supposed it made sense that during one of the most important moments of his life, a werewolf named Jared would come and fuck it up.

He swung around and raised his wand.

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” Baz said.

The magic hit Jared before he could attack Baz. But it didn’t hold. The spell was normally meant to calm overexcited young dogs or puppies. It didn’t have much effect on a fully matured werewolf. He snarled at the both of them and charged. Simon raised his own wand, shaking.

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Snow said.

Baz froze as he watched Snow’s magic hit. The spell was normally used to uncover a person’s true form as a way to counteract a glamour. It was not used to force a transformation on a werewolf. And yet, Baz watched as Jared returned to his human form. 

“Sometimes you scare me,” Baz said, eyeing Snow.

Snow shrugged.

“Happy Halloween?”

Jared groaned on the other side of them, embarrassingly naked. Baz whispered a conjuring spell and threw a robe at him wordlessly. It was likely Jared had gone into the Wavering Wood fully dressed and lost his clothing somewhere in the midst of his nighttime adventure.

The three of them walked back to their rooms, Snow eyeing Jared like a disapproving parent.

“Jared why would you go into the Wavering Wood alone? You could have been eaten!” Snow said.

“I think the chances of me eating someone else were higher,” Jared mumbled.

“Oh and that’s so much better,” Snow griped.

Baz was only half-listening. He didn’t want to discuss Jared’s idiotic choices. He wanted to go back to the conversation he’d been having with Snow in the woods. 

Finally they deposited Jared back to his room and made their way to their own.

Baz strolled over to Snow’s bed and leaned on the bedpost.

“So?” Baz said.

Snow eyed him warily.

“Yes?”

“Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted by Jared?”

Simon

Baz hadn’t forgotten about Simon’s bitten off confession in the Wavering Wood and he wasn’t letting it go. He was pretty sure Baz knew already and that denying it ever happened was a useless idea. Still, he felt like crawling under his bed and shoving his fingers in his ears.

“I like someone,” Simon said.

“Yes,” Baz said.

“I like…you,” Simon said.

Baz inhaled sharply.

“I don't expect you to do anything with that information,” Simon added quickly.

“Do you like me enough to kiss me?” Baz asked.

“I-what?” Simon said, completely flustered.

Baz crossed his arms over his chest, defensively.

“Do you like me enough to kiss me?” Baz repeated.

Simon stood there for a moment, totally uncomprehending.

“I mean…yes. But I would never do anything you didn’t want me to do.”

“Who said I didn’t want you to kiss me?” Baz asked.

Simon stared at him.

“Do you want me to?” He asked, in utter disbelief.

“Yes,” Baz said.

Simon moved without fully having decided to. He was walking across the length of the room, eyes on Baz’s suddenly vulnerable face. It felt like a moment fragmented out of time, singular in its rarity.

“Simon,” Baz said.

And then he was kissing him. It felt like an eclipse of everything they’d ever said and done to one another, overshadowed by something more luminous and powerful. Simon gasped when Baz’s breath huffed into his mouth. The feeling undid him, made him feel as if his knees were no longer reliably under him.

Baz kissed him back, his mouth soft and unpracticed in a way that made Simon’s chest hurt. He wanted this more than he’d ever wanted anything else. Everyone had told Simon he was made of magic, but he hadn’t felt like it until that moment. 

They continued to kiss, content to spend the rest of the night inside their room after a night of hunting a peer-pressured werewolf.

[sillyunicorn]

Snowbaz Mad Libs #9

More Mad Libs!!!! This one is for @palimpsessed, thank you for playing!! Original game post here.

Once Upon a Celadon Ennui

Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince, who lived in a ramshackle tower with his 69 puffer fish.

One day, his parents announced that he was to be married, which the prince did not want.

To avoid his impending betrothal, he told his parents that he was, in fact, already in love.

“His name is Simon,” he told his parents. “And we have already pledged our love to one another.”

In fact, he and Simon had made no such promises. But he knew he could get Simon to agree. You see, he and Simon had once addled some pantaloons together under a full moon, and that does create a certain bond.

The prince sent Elspeth to fetch Simon, who looked quite terrorized when he finally appeared.

“Sorry for the wait, sire, I was wrestling with some night mares. Fuck a nine toed troll, there’s another one!” He pulled it out of his hair and quickly squashed it under his boot.

“I see,” the prince said, questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment.

“So what was it you wanted with me? More help with your Debate lessons?” Simon waggled his eyebrows.

“That was one time,” the prince seethed. “And no. I need you to pretend to be in love with me so my parents won’t make me marry someone else.”

“Oh Lordy!” Simon said. “I never thought this was how I’d be proposed to. Don’t you think we should do some, I don’t know, demolishing first?”

The prince sniffed haughtily. “I’m not asking you to marry me, just pretend to be in love with me.”

“Well alright,” Simon said. “Actually, I don’t think that will be that difficult. You see, I’ve been in love with you ever since you asked me to transmogrify with you in the forest that one time.”

“Really?” the prince asked.

“Yep,” Simon said. “So, will you marry me?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” the prince replied. And they lived happily ever after.

[forabeatofadrum]

che col tuo lume mi levasti - chapter seventeen

Notes: Thank you Spinazzino for randomly having a restaurant. It is very convenient for the plot.

AO3

–

SIMON

There’s a restaurant called Osteria Catarusco. We told the other researchers that we needed to discuss something for professor Bunce’s wife’s birthday. It’s incredibly unprofessional, but that was the best excuse we could come up with, so we headed to the Osteria for some privacy.

My mum does most of the talking. Professor Bunce’s face remains neutral throughout the entire explanation.

“And here, September twenty-third. That’s when Simon killed Davy and saved me. That’s the last time dead spots appeared, both here and in the World of Mages.”

Professor Bunce takes a huge sip of his drink.

“Okay, and we can match the first dead spot with Simon’s birth?”

“Martin, I never told anyone where Davy and I lived after Watford, but it was in a hidden cottage near Llanfynydd. The location of the first dead spot! It must’ve passed our home, but it’s near.”

“Shit, Lucy.”

“Yeah, shit indeed, Martin,” my mum says before continuing, “And here, August fifth 2016. Simon went off for the first time in Verona.”

“So we can account for three moments in Simon’s life. His birth, the day he grew into his magic, and the day he gave his magic away,” professor Bunce counts on his fingers. There are only three dates and he’s staring at his hand. “Lucy, these are three dates and they are nineteen years apart. Dead spots appeared between 1997 and 2016.”

“I’m getting to that,” my mum says and she rubs her temples. She is desperate for professor Bunce to understand. This is the uneasy part. I know what she’s going to do. My mum opens her satchel and she takes out a diary. “But Simon has used magic all throughout his life. He just didn’t know and he couldn’t reach his full magickal potential until August fifth 2016.”

She opens the diary. My mum was paranoid during the first nineteen years of my life, because she tried to keep magic hidden from me. As a result, she’s tried to document every instance of childhood magic that she could see. It’s been years since all of this magic shit happened and I’ve long forgiven my mum for lying to me, but seeing how she closely monitored me during my childhood does make me a bit uneasy.

“This is probably- no, not probably, definitely an incomplete list. Simon didn’t do a lot of accidental magic before he grew into his magic, but here’s a list of dates.” Then she slides another sheet of paper to professor Bunce. “And here’s the Lob’s list. Look at it, Martin!”

Professor Bunce takes it all in. He’s cross-referencing it himself, to check whether or not my mum and I got it right. We remain silent while professor Bunce checks it all out and I take this moment to eat pasta. (Of course I ordered food.)

“Fuck a nine-toed troll, Lucy,” he mutters after a while.

“See!”

“But Simon’s done more accidental magic. There isn’t a dead spot for every magickal moment.”

“True, true, but look!” my mum points towards her notes. She’d written down all the dates of me doing accidental magic, but also what I did. “Martin, little things like opening a door don’t correspond to a dead spot, but here!”

“’Shortened his own hair with magic’,” professor Bunce reads out loud before looking at me, “You did what? That’s advanced for a three year old!”

“Greatest Mage and everything,” I deadpan. My mum snorts. To this day, I still don’t know why my thoughts were magic or why I could put magic in ordinary words, but that was a thing. “I don’t even remember doing that.”

“And I was so grateful for that,” my mum sighs deeply, “Imagine you magickally cutting your hair at, what, sixteen? How was I going to explain that?”

“I was stupid, mum, I probably would’ve believed it anyway.” I think back to what I said at Emma’s house. Normali really are dense, aren’t we?

“Mer-lin!” professor Bunce reads through the notes.

“Merlin indeed,” I mutter. I didn’t want this to happen either. I was done being the Greatest Mage. I mean, I am, I don’t have magic, and I’ve moved on. Damnit. I don’t want this to be true, but the evidence is undeniable.

And there’s more. I poke my mum.

“Oh, yeah,” my mum has another book. It’s Baz’s book on magickal myths and legends. He used the same book when I went off in Verona. That’s how he learnt that I was the Greatest Mage. He lent it to my mother a few weeks ago. It’s a good thing she forgot to return it.

My mum opens the book to the page on the Greatest Mage. Me.

There’s two pages. The first page is all the ‘facts’ of the Greatest Mage myth, and that’s the page that Baz ran through after Verona, but the second page is filled with speculation. We don’t really look at that. We should’ve done it earlier, since it has something important written down, but I can’t stand looking at that book, so Baz never read further out of respect.

“‘Magical explosions so big that they could possibly tear…’” professor Bunce trails off. His eyes dance around the page. I know how that sentence ends. My mum and I talked a lot about it yesterday.

“‘… tear holes in the magickal atmosphere’,” I finish, “‘Their amount of magic could throw the magickal world off-balance’.”

“But this is just speculation,” professor Bunce taps the page, “This book is about fiction and legend.”

“So it everything about the bloody Greatest Mage prophecy. You all believed that my dad was delusional. And yet I’m sitting right here,” I say and I wave, “Hello.”

Professor Bunce groans in frustration. It’s very loud and the owner of the restaurant asks us if everything’s alright, but my mum quickly tells her it’s okay.

“So we have this description of Simon’s powers, dates that line up, and these kinds of dead spots appeared in both the World of Mages and the CoMa, Great Britain and Italy, the two places where Simon’s lived,” my mum summarises.

“What do you think, professor?” I ask.

Professor Bunce blinks a few time. He’s processing all this information. I get it. I’ve been there. (Yesterday, to be more precise.) (I still haven’t properly processed all of this.)

Professor Bunce looks at his cup of coffee. “I think I’m going to need something stronger than this.”

--

BAZ

Agatha, Penny, Shepard and I are sitting on the floor in a circle. I am reminded of the Christmas Party.

After Fiona told me about the numpties, I ran. As in, I literally ran. I couldn’t think and I used my super speed to run all the way to fucking London, which would’ve been cool if it had been any other situation. It only took an hour.

I tried calling Simon, but he didn’t pick up. So instead I arrived at the Bunces’ doorstep in tears. Penny took one look at me and she ushered me inside. She called Agatha and now we’re all sitting on the floor.

My parents will kill me for missing the birthday, but I don’t give a fuck.

I’m lying in Agatha’s arms. We’re drinking, but no one’s drunk. I don’t want to be an emotional drunk, although it’s tempting to just knock myself out.

“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Penny asks again. Shepard tells her to back off.

“Knee, please.”

“What?” Penny asks.

“Penny,” Agatha also sounds disappointed. Penny just doesn’t know when to quit. At this point it’s easier to just tell her. I look up to Agatha.

“Hey Agatha,” I say, “Remember when I was kidnapped by numpties?”

She’s one of the only three people at Watford who knows. Dev and Niall are the others. Dev heard it through the Grimms and if Dev knows, then Niall knows. Agatha’s the only person I ever told.

Agatha nods, looking grim.

“What the fuck?” Penny exclaims, “When did that-” Her eyes widen when she realises. “Oh. Our last year at Watford.”

Smart woman.

“Turns out that The Mage was behind that,” my voice cracks, “He tried to hide me from my mother’s Visiting.”

“Oh, oh Baz!” Agatha’s arms tighten around me. I start crying and I burrow my face in the crook of her neck. My entire body is wracked with sobs and I cry loudly. Agatha keeps whispering soothing words in my ear. She’s not Simon. I wish Simon were here. But Agatha’s great too. She’s one of the other most important people in my life.

Someone rubs my back and I use my echolocation to find out that it’s Penny. (Emma taught me a lot of new tricks back in Rome.)

“My mother came back for me and I fucking missed her, because the motherfucking Mage made sure of it.”

“Maybe you’ll see her again,” Penny says kindly. I’ve never heard her sound so soothing and comforting. “The Veil lifts every twenty years. If she missed you this time, she’ll come back. You just have to wait fifteen more years.”

I sniff. “I don’t think so, Bunce. Nicodemus reckons that The Mage hid me away to prevent me from finding out that he killed my mother. We now know, and we also know that Simon killed him, so she’s avenged. There’s no reason for her to come back.”

“Wait,” Agatha says, “I think we missed some things here, Baz. Who’s Nicodemus?”

“The Mage killed your mother?” Penny shrieks in shock and disgust, “No! The vampires did!”

I lean away from Agatha to look at Penny. I now remember that she’s the only person in this room who doesn’t know shit about vampires, including the fact that I am one.

“Nicodemus told me and Fiona the truth,” I say sadly.

“Nicodemus?” Agatha asks again.

“Fiona’s vampire fiancé.”

“What the fuck!” Agatha and Penny say at the same time. Shepard takes a swig of his beer bottle.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Agatha says quietly.

Penny isn’t as quiet. “Vampires? You talked to a vampire? Your aunt is engaged to one? Baz, this is very serious. You’re both breaking the law!”

“Knee,” Shepard starts, but Penny talks over him.

“No, no, no! Talking to vampires is highly illegal. I won’t rat Fiona out, but Circe, Baz, this is big! Fiona’s on the Coven! Guys, you can get stricken from the Book for this!”

And I’m too tired to fight. I’m too exhausted and upset to still care about Penny’s feelings. I should be more tactful, since I am about to change everything, but I am tired. Instead, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Well, Bunce, your name is on top of the list,” I bite out. Agatha’s body tenses against mine and Shepard takes more sips of his beer to avoid talking. “Cause you’re talking to one right now.”

Penny looks around the room. “What? No, I’m not.”

I laugh. She doesn’t even clock that I’m telling her that I’m a vampire. I bare my fangs and when her eyes fall on me, she jumps up and backs away in shock. Her ring hand is pointing towards me and I can feel her heartbeat skyrocket. It’s even worse than Agatha’s reaction.

Agatha gets up and she turns us around. She’s now standing in between me and Penny.

“Don’t you dare hurt him, Penelope. You’ll have to go through me!”

Merlin, I love Agatha Wellbelove.

“I- I- I-”

“Bunce, you’re about to have a heart attack. That’s how fast your heart is beating,” I say airily, but I am also fucking terrified right now. Even Shepard seems to be debating whether or not he should shield me. “I can sense it.”

“No, you’re not!” Penny yells. She actually yells. “You can’t be.”

She still has her ring pointed towards me.

“I ran here from Oxford. Vampire speed.”

“Knee,” Shepard touches Penny’s leg lightly, “Knee, darling, he’s speaking the truth.”

Penny looks at her husband and she looks betrayed. “You knew? You both knew?”

“I only found out yesterday,” Agatha answers, “But I swear to God, Penny, I will fucking fight you. Yes, I am also freaked out by it, but he’s still Baz!”

“And I sort of figured it out myself,” Shepard says, “And I also agree with Agatha: he’s still Baz. He’s been a vampire for, what, fifteen years?”

“Seventeen,” I say.

“No, this- this can’t be. We were at school together. You’re a mage!” Penny screams and I can’t stop looking at her ring. She doesn’t lower her arm.

“And a very skilled one, thank you very much,” I jeer. It’s all to cover up my anxiety. I haven’t used insults and annoyance as a cover since my Watford days.

“Mages who get Turned get their instruments snapped and their fangs pulled out!”

“Yeah. That’s precisely why my family told no one, Bunce!”

“Knee, I’ve been trying to tell you that vampires aren’t all evil,” Shepard whispers. I can hear it, obviously.

“I can’t be bothered to explain,” I say loudly. It’s true. This day has been terrible so far and I don’t have the energy to tell Penny everything that I’ve learnt. I am grieving my mother, I am angry at The Mage, and I am scared that one of my best friends is going to hurt me. “Shepard can do it.”

“With pleasure, man,” Shepard gives me a thumbs up.

I am a fucking mess.

I want Simon.

“I’m going to call Simon.”

“Simon knows too?” Penny asks.

“Of course he knows, Bunce. We’re in love,” I say, offended. Why wouldn’t he know? Agatha helps me get up and I leave the room. When I close the door behind me, I hear Shepard talking about vampires. Really, he can do it.

I take out my mobile and I speed dial Simon. It’s late. He should be home by now. I need him. He’s always there to light up my life. There’s this Italian quote from this poem that Simon loves. Che col tuo lume mi levasti, or ‘it was your light that raised me’. Simon’s light raises me. I wait for him to pick up. He has to be awake.

I’m proven right, because he picks up.

“I was just about to call you,” he says as a greeting. I immediately start crying again. Just hearing his voice makes me let go.

“Simon.”

“Baz? Is- what happened?”

“Simon!”

--

SIMON

“Simon!” he cries out.

“Where are you? Are you safe? What is going on?” I ask frantically. My mum is looking up from her laptop in panic when she hears me. “Baz?”

“I’m at the Bunces with Agatha. I am safe. A lot just happened,” Baz croaks out. He sounds terrible.

I let out a sigh of relief. He’s with Shepard, Penny and Agatha. He’s not somewhere in a ditch. When your boyfriend calls you, crying, panicking, unable to speak, your mind wanders to the darkest corners. He’s not at the birthday, though.

“Okay, you’re with friends. Phew.”

My mum also looks relieved to hear that.

“Sorry, love, a fucking- a lot happened. Shit. Fucking Christ.”

Oh, that’s bad. Baz doesn’t swear like a Normal.

“Is this about Fiona?” I ask.

“No. Yes! Wait, no, not really. But yes, kind of.”

“Baz, you’re not making any sense.”

He’s still crying. It’s difficult for him to speak, which rarely happens. I’m the one who’s occasionally inept when it comes to talking, not Baz, Mr. Linguistics Major. Something is definitely wrong.

“Just- just be here with me, love,” he breathes out, “I just need you to be here with me right now.”

“I am. I’m here.”

My mum taps me on my shoulder and she shows me a note that says that she’s going to the night supermarket. The fridge is stocked, but I know she wants to give me and Baz some privacy. I nod and blow a kiss.

I was going to tell Baz about our scientific breakthrough, but that can definitely wait. I sit down on the sofa and I wait for Baz to calm down. I talk about all the food that I’ve eaten, just so that he can hear my voice. I tell him that I’m going to cook cannelloni later.

When I mention that I miss my sword, Baz laughs.

Finally!

“Like, knives are cool, but I have a fucking sword, Baz!” I say happily.

“You and your sword,” Baz says, “I like your sword.”

“I want to say something very suggestive right now, you get that, right?”

“Snow!”

“Am I wrong?”

“Fuck.”

“I miss your sword.”

“Snow!”

“I do, I really do.”

“Aleister fucking Crowley, I just learnt something new and harrowing about my mother and you are propositioning.”

“You did?” I say, dropping the funny tone.

I hear Baz suck in a breath. “Yeah. And Penny found out that I’m vampire and she’s not taking it well.”

“Jesus Christ on a biscuit,” I mutter.

“I told you,” Baz sounds tired, “A lot happened. Turns out that my mother came through the Veil, Snow.”

“… I don’t know what that means, Baz.”

Silence. I am used to these moments. Someone mentions something from the World of Mages, I make clear that I don’t know what it means, and the other person needs a moment to readjust since they’re not used to explaining. I wait for Baz to explain.

“Circe, it basically means that ghosts come back from the death. It happens every twenty years and it’s a very short time window. My mother might’ve Visited me, but your dad had me kidnapped.”

The idea of ghosts coming back from the dead should shock me, but I’ve heard worse by now.

“The coffin. The numpties.” I know that story. Baz’s told me. It was hell for him and he prefers not to think about it, but I needed to understand why Fiona kept telling him to move to the backseat. (I also think it’s very rude of her to joke about something traumatic like that.) (I’ve started joking about killing my dad, since humour makes it easier sometimes, but Fiona cannot do that about other people’s burdens.)

“My mother came back for me, and I missed it,” Baz sounds harrowed, “And since we avenged her death, she probably won’t come back again. She probably crossed over.”

“I’m sorry, Baz,” I say.

“So am I.”

--

End notes: Speaking of random places, Llanfynydd was also chosen by putting my cursor somewhere in Wales in Google Maps. And I don’t know who started Dev Grimm, but I’m sorry Rainbow, but I believe in Dev Grimm Supremacy. I don’t know a Dev Pitch.

[carryonmylovelies]

Carry On Magickal Creatures Ask List

I literally went through the entire book page by page and found all these XD Enjoy!

Banshee: What’s something you love so much that you just really want to run around and scream about?

Bonety Hunter: What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever had to ‘hunt’ down in the store?

Centaur: If you were a centaur, what would be your preferred weapon to fight people with?

Chimera: Have you ever sent a chimera after anyone? And if you haven’t, who would you love to send a chimera after?

Demon: If you could choose any human to be the vessel for your demon soul, who would it be?

Devils: What’s the evilest prank you really want to pull?

Dragon: Does your pet a dragon breathe fire or ice?

Dryad: Would you be a dryad that helps those who come seeking information or would you hide away in the trees and spy on everyone?

Fairy: What type of fairy would you be? (A pizza fairy, a comfy sweater fairy, a rain fairy etc.)

Flibbertigibbet: Is that the sound you make when you sneeze? If not, what is it?

Ghost: If you were a ghost, what’s the first thing you would do?

Goblin: How would you style your fabulous hair if you were a goblin?

***Goat: You recieve a baby goat as a birthday present; what do you name it?

Gnome: If you could grow anything in your garden, what would it be?

Gryphon: Would you rather be an eagle, a lion, oR bOtH?!?!?

Kitchen Skink: If you were to fight a kitchen skink, would you win? (I’m sorry I have no idea what a kitchen skink is)

Leprechaun: What would you do with a duffel bag full of Leprechaun gold?

Manticore: Which would you rather have: shark teeth, bat wings, or a scorpion tail?

Mermaid: Under The Sea or Part of Your World?

Merewolves: What’s the grossest food you’ve ever eaten?

Minotaur: Are you good at solving mazes or do you totally suck?

Ne’er-do-wolves: If you could be any magickal creature on this list, which would it be?

Numpties: How do you feel about people sitting in the front seat when they were kidnapped by fucking numpties?

Nymph: Would you rather sing beautifully or dance beautifully?

Ogres: What is your favorite movie? *cough* SHREK *cough cough*

Phoenix: If you could explode into flames and come out completely unharmed anytime you wanted, what would you use that skill for?

Pixie: What would trail behind you if you were a pixie? (Sprinkles, bacon bits, rose petals, tiny skulls etc.) 

Rakshasa: (Rakshasa means ‘protect me’ in Sanskrit) What does your name mean?

Siren: What is the one thing Sirens could sing about that you would not be able to resist?

Snow Devil: If you had a perfect snowball in your hand right now, what would you do with it?

Sprite: Which would you rather be, a sprite that can breathe underwater or a sprite that can fly?

Tooth Fairy: What do you think the Tooth Fairy does with all of those teeth?

Trolls: What’s your favorite phrase? (Example: Fuck a nine-toed troll)

Unicorns: Would you be a pleasant and gentle unicorn that grants wishes or would you be a powerful kickass unicorn that stabs anyone who gets on their bad side?

Werewolf: Who is your favorite werewolf?

Worseger: How do badgers personally impact your life? Could they get any ‘worse’?

Wraith: Would wraiths be creeped out by you too?

Vampire: Who is your favorite vampire? (Besides our lovely Basilton of course)

*** The goats are magickal fight me

[sourcherrymagiks]

Carry on Countdown 2019

Day 9 - Pattern

Shepard

Penny comes in through the front door with a flurry of leaves. She dumps her bag and collapses onto the sofa.

“Fuck a nine toed troll Shep, whatever you’ve been cooking smells amazing.”

“Good day at the office dear?” I ask her in my best pretend housewife voice. She laughs at me and pulls her legs up onto the couch. I catch myself looking right up her skirt like some lust sick teenager. I’m almost certain she winks at me. Almost. If I was certain then now would be an ideal time to lean over and kiss her.

We don’t get that many ideal times. Between saving the world, uni, writing, goblins and housework there’s just not that much time. Also when there is time there is also Baz and Simon with their endless, constant displays of affection. It’s virtually impossible for me to believe that they were ever sworn enemies. They must have been rubbish at it.

Hell. I’m going to kiss her. What’s the worst that could happen? She could slap me I suppose. I could end up homeless and friendless in a foreign country illegally. Still fortune favours the brave.

“Penny” I start but then I realise she’s fallen asleep. I pull a blanket over her and take her glasses off and then go back to my notebook. There’s always tomorrow.

Penny

I wake up feeling weirdly warm and a bit squished. It’s nice warm, people warm, not warm enough to be Simon, too warm to be Baz. There’s only Shep left.

Shep would not have snuggled into me on the couch. I need to open my eyes and work out what the actual fuck is going on.

Shit. I didn’t sit down this way around. I’m definitely at the end of the couch where Shep was. My head is in his lap, I would be more concerned about this but I really like it. I don’t want this to get awkward and I do want this. I do. I just don’t want to be the one to start it. Maybe I don’t want to be in charge of this stuff anymore. I can admit when I’m just horrible at something. This relationship stuff is the something I am not good at.

Sheps voice disrupts my train of thought “Morning sleepyhead” then he strokes my hair so lightly I only just feel it.

“Hey, I seem to have sleep snuggled you. I would apologise but I’m not sorry, you’re very comfy”

“I think you should apologise for calling me comfy. I’m not a cushion” he wiggles his knees as he says it making my head bounce about.

I sit up grumbling and muttering. “No, come back, I found a movie about a mutant virus for us to watch, I think a lot of the earths population die and the smart girl saves the day” he’s reaching for the remote.

“OK, you got me. Will you just.... thats it, more that way” I pull and push him until he’s lying along the back of the couch, then I nestle into his arms. This is much better. I trace the demon marks on his arms with my fingers as the tv does its thing. I’m too caught up in Shep to pay much attention. I can feel his chest rising and falling against my back. I’m ready for what’s coming. Im also happy to stay right here. Shep does this to me, he makes me calm and excited. Relaxed and tense. Like I can wait and like I want everything now. I wriggle slightly further back so I’m flush against him. I slide my feet between his calves. The next move isn’t mine.

Shepard

It’s difficult to accept a reality where Penny Bunce is pressed up against me on the couch running her fingers over the patterns my arms. I’m pretty sure it’s real. She smells of chocolate and sage. Her hair is tickling my nose. I can feel her breath on my arm. Her gorgeous thighs are practically bare up against my jeans. I start messing with the hem of her skirt, brushing my fingers across the top of her legs as I do it. So far, so good. She hasn’t chopped my fingers off. She hasn’t moved away. It’s definitely not a platonic thing to be doing. I keep doing it. She backs into me a little more. I’m going to take that as encouragement.

I did expect that she would take over at this point. Penny normally likes to be the one in charge. I think I like this being up to me but it’s terrifying.

I close my eyes and kiss her cheek. Then I do it again. Then I do it again getting closer to her mouth. I need her to turn if this is going to work. I can’t reach her lips from the angle. She turns her head. I want to look at her, I want to take a moment but I need to kiss her. She surges against me when I do. Her mouth opens for me, she pushes against me shoulder to feet. She’s so soft.

This kiss though. I could do this forever. I tug a little at her bottom lip and she moans a tiny little moan into my mouth.

I pull her closer with the hand that’s splayed over her thigh.

That’s when the door opens and Simon tumbles in followed closely by Baz. They both stare for a second then start stammering and slink off into the kitchen. Fuck.

Penny

Nicks and slick they’ve got the worst timing ever. I suppose this is the downside to communal living.

“Shep, would you like to move this to my room?” It’s a bit forward but I worry that otherwise we’re going to lose this chance. I haven’t got the patience for that.

He nods at me.

As we walk towards my room I shout

“Basil, this is not an excuse for you to fuck on the couch”

“Not promising anything Penny” Simon shouts back.

That couch is going to need burning.

[lostchildart]

soooo....here's a shitty drawing of penny bunce (I've drawn her wayyyy to many times) also can we make the term 'fuck a nine-toed troll' a cultural norm please

[ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash]

For the carry on ask thing I really just want to say all of them😂. Or if that takes too long the ones you really want to answer😊 Sunglasses dude just because he's cooler than me

Banshee: What’s something you love so much that you just really want to run around and scream about?

Probably my best friend @thehatwhisperer caus she’s an awesome ‘mythic bitch’ who absolutely supports me through anything, like i can call her about the stupidest things crying and she will always help and console me and make me feel better about myself, no matter what time of day it is and it makes me feel so amazing.

Bonety Hunter: What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever had to ‘hunt’ down in the store?

I once had to hunt down two giant boards of wood, three cans of white spray paint, a spool of wool and 600 nails for an art project, the poor cashier looked terrified caus these planks were like, A1 size, that’s really the weirdest thing ever.

Centaur: If you were a centaur, what would be your preferred weapon to fight people with?

Specialised bow and arrow FITE ME I’M AN AESTHETIC BITCH

Chimera: Have you ever sent a chimera after anyone? And if you haven’t, who would you love to send a chimera after?

I can’t exactly remember if sending a chimera is good or bad, and imma assume bad, so probably ever guy that ever tries to tell me that I’m bisexual when I specifically say that I’m pansexual, and then argues to me about what bi and pan is.

Demon: If you could choose any human to be the vessel for your demon soul, who would it be?

Tom Holland, caus A) he’s hot B) I could date harrison osterfield (If he’s bi/pan/gay/polysexual) C) TESSAAAAAA

Devils: What’s the evilest prank you really want to pull?

Pretending to date a dude and get my parents hopes up then make out with a girl in front of them.

Dragon: Does your pet a dragon breathe fire or ice?

Fire duh, he/she/they could warm me whilst i sleep and keep me safe, and be a great cuddler.

Dryad: Would you be a dryad that helps those who come seeking information or would you hide away in the trees and spy on everyone?

Probably hide in the trees and spy on everyone, knowing me i would chuck berries and them and think I’m being helpful too

Fairy: What type of fairy would you be? (A pizza fairy, a comfy sweater fairy, a rain fairy etc.)

A rain fairy, caus i fucking love rain, the dew drops that it leaves on leafs, the freezing cold winds and the beautiful sound against an iron sheet, rain is my shit dudes. Either that or a night fairy, because i adore the stars and when it is absolutely pitch black and you can literally see the milky way

Flibbertigibbet: Is that the sound you make when you sneeze? If not, what is it?

Either the loudest sound you have EVER HEARD IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE or the smallest noise ever there is no inbetween

Ghost: If you were a ghost, what’s the first thing you would do?

Meet celebrities and fucking haunt their hot asses, like just hang around tom holland and help him out and send him good vibes, or like open doors for tom hiddleston caus he’s so polite, he needs a polite ghost to pay him back for his loveliness

Goblin: How would you style your fabulous hair if you were a goblin?

Like storm from x-men except teal, caus that shits tight

***Goat: You recieve a baby goat as a birthday present; what do you name it?

SHIT PRESSURE I DON’T KNOW ok delilah, caus I’ll sing hey there delilah to her and i ain’t EVER HEARD OF A GOAT NAMED DELILAH

Gnome: If you could grow anything in your garden, what would it be?

Gryphon: Would you rather be an eagle, a lion, oR bOtH?!?!?

Kitchen Skink: If you were to fight a kitchen skink, would you win? (I’m sorry I have no idea what a kitchen skink is)

Leprechaun: What would you do with a duffel bag full of Leprechaun gold?

Well i’m half irish so probably take em out for a pint of Guiness and have a good time with em, chill out and be cool.

Manticore: Which would you rather have: shark teeth, bat wings, or a scorpion tail?

BAT WINGS MY DUDE THAT WOULD BE THE SHIT AND IT WOULD BE SO FUCKING COOL I COULD FLY AND JUST SCREAM AT PEOPLE AND FREAK THEM THE FUCK OUT

Mermaid: Under The Sea or Part of Your World?

Part of your world, i could sing that till i die i swear

Merewolves: What’s the grossest food you’ve ever eaten?

OK SO STORY TIME i used to live in france and there was this place where we got lunch, and once we got this horrible seafood stew, somehow the carrots were undercooked, the mussels were overcooked and chewy, and the fish was falling apart in the stew and tasted rotten, it made me throw up i hated it.

Minotaur: Are you good at solving mazes or do you totally suck?

I once ran through a maze as a kid and never made it to the centre, despite having gone super fast and been in it for like 3 hours

Ne’er-do-wolves: If you could be any magickal creature on this list, which would it be?

I’d be a fucking nymph no joke my dude they’re awesome for sure

Numpties: How do you feel about people sitting in the front seat when they were kidnapped by fucking numpties?

Absolutely disgraced, horrible, disgraceful

Nymph: Would you rather sing beautifully or dance beautifully?

Sing because fuck it i want to be a gorgeous singer, and if i can’t dance then someone can teach me yas

Ogres: What is your favorite movie? *cough* SHREK *cough cough*

THE MARTIAN AND A HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY FUCKING FITE ME

Phoenix: If you could explode into flames and come out completely unharmed anytime you wanted, what would you use that skill for?

Probably exams, if someone dies in an exam then everyone gets their predicted grades and i’m gonna help my buddies out, i joke about it sometimes but damn i would for my friends

Pixie: What would trail behind you if you were a pixie? (Sprinkles, bacon bits, rose petals, tiny skulls etc.)

Fucking lightning my dude, imagine you step on water and fucking lightning spreads on the surface of it that shit would be tight

Rakshasa: (Rakshasa means ‘protect me’ in Sanskrit) What does your name mean?

Sophie: wisdom/wise

Siren: What is the one thing Sirens could sing about that you would not be able to resist?

Self improvement, like if they offered acting classes or art improvement i’d go right over there like fuck the crew of my ship imma crash it and improve myself fuck em

Snow Devil: If you had a perfect snowball in your hand right now, what would you do with it?

Take a picture, then a video of me shoving it down my little brothers shirt and freezing the shit out of him

Sprite: Which would you rather be, a sprite that can breathe underwater or a sprite that can fly?

BREATHE UNDERWATER I COULD EXPLORE EVERYWHERE ONLY 5% OF THE OCEAN IS EXPLORED I WANT TO SEE WHAT’S THERE THAT WOULD BE SO COOL

Tooth Fairy: What do you think the Tooth Fairy does with all of those teeth?

I was always told they take the teeth and turn them into pearls and make beautiful mosaics from the different coloured pearls (this was in a kids book) but i also like the idea from rise of the guardians that they hold memories

Trolls: What’s your favorite phrase? (Example: Fuck a nine-toed troll)

“Aight my dudes”, that or “ah nipple fuck” i don’t know i just love the phrase

Unicorns: Would you be a pleasant and gentle unicorn that grants wishes or would you be a powerful kickass unicorn that stabs anyone who gets on their bad side?

Bit a both, pleasant to my friends or a complete asshole to anyone who insults them, these are my friends, hurt them and u get stabbed

Werewolf: Who is your favorite werewolf?

There was this one animatic of a werewolf who had a boyfriend and called him puppy and that would be my fave werewolf ever, like i might share it on here but it makes me happy af

Worseger: How do badgers personally impact your life? Could they get any ‘worse’?

Not really, badgers don’t ever really bother me and i don’t bother them

Wraith: Would wraiths be creeped out by you too?

Duh, i’m freaky as hell

Vampire: Who is your favorite vampire? (Besides our lovely Basilton of course)

Probably dracula’s ladies, like in the traditional story he has 3 beautiful women who entrance men to their deaths and they’re really kick ass to me

and you’re not wrong sunglasses are so kick ass