#happy new year this is my gift to everyone but especially to Baz

[emuchipmunk]

19 | Jared McCann x American Teenager - Ethel Cain

Part 5 of the Spotify Wrapped x Hockey series

[carryon-anon-fest]

ART

I Just Wanna Dance With You (G)

The Prom AU

Firebreathing Simon (G)

Make A Wish (G)

G/T+

The Best Laid Plans of Magazines and Men (T)

Helping Baz learn to flirt with Simon in a healthy way seemed like a brilliant idea. Unfortunately, Dev and Niall's plans and their friend's capabilities are a bit of a mismatch. 'A bit' being an egregious understatement. Hilarity, predictably, ensues.

Craziest Season (T)

Baz is bringing Simon home for Christmas this year, so he can finally meet his family. The catch? Baz is not out to any of them yet, contrary to what Simon originally believed. They end up pretending to be just roommates, but it's fine, really. It's only for five days. What can possibly go wrong in only five days? (Everything, apparently.)

When We Fight We Fight Like Lions (But Then We Love and Feel the Truth) (T)

Simon and Baz are secret agents, working for W.A.T.F.O.R.D (the Worldwide Agency for Threat Flagging Operations, Reconnaissance and Defence) They have to go on their biggest mission yet, to infiltrate a top-secret weapons convention. The only problem is, they have to do it under the cover of a newly-wed couple...

The One My Soul Loves (T)

The “Worst Chosen One” has a gift for technology. What if that had been encouraged instead? This time, he and Penny stop the Humdrum before eighth year. Simon finally has time for his dream project: a soulmate finder app. Others find love, but Simon’s match won’t download the app. Can he find peace with this? Why is Baz acting strange? What will happen when an unhappy user curses Simon, driving up the stakes to find his soulmate?

Classroom Politics (T)

At twenty-five, Simon Snow’s life is finally on the up. He’s got his magic back, people listen to him, and he can draw the Sword of Mages. A lot of people think he should lead the Coven. But not everyone. The Old Families still see Simon as their enemy and they’re quite willing to quote obscure magickal law to stop him ascending to Mage. Simon’s never backed down from a challenge, though, or let anyone stop him doing what he needs to do. He’s not starting now. Even if it means going back to school.

However Souls Are Made (Ours Are the Same) (T)

Fiona wants to come out and shock her parents, so she enlists Ebb to help. Ebb agrees to fake-date Fiona for the hols—they're best friends, aren't they? She can help Fiona out a bit. Except Ebb has been half in love for years and Fiona is plotting, as is the Pitch way.

Why We're No Longer Allowed to Do Boardgame Nights (T)

After a disaster on the night of 2 February 2019, I have decided to conduct a report to look into a case that ended horribly, after starting as a simple boardgame night. This report is constructed entirely of witness statements. Let’s begin. (Aka, The Gang decide to have a night of Monopoly, Twister and other such things, and it goes tits up)

The Kind of Love I Want (G)

An awkward conversation between Simon and Agatha leads to new revelations and a friendship reborn.

Happier Memories (G)

In which Simon decides to plan, and Baz decides to do something impulsive.

Here, Kitty-Kitty... (G)

Simon adopts a cat. Baz pretends to hate him. It's probably safer for everyone this way...

In the Middle (T)

Simon should be overjoyed at his Penelope's engagement, the second of his sisters to be so fortunate, but all he can think about is Mr Grimm-Pitch. He fears he has ruined the greatest chance of happiness he could ever have hoped for.

Today Is Tomorrow (T)

Simon Snow's having the worst day of his life... over and over and over again.

Mirror, Mirror (T)

For all the Mage's claims that Simon Snow was the World of Mages' prophesied savior, the Humdrum certainly wasn't the only danger their world faced and Simon certainly wouldn't save the world alone.

The Coolest Part (By Far) (G)

When Penny leaves for a study trip, Simon and Baz are left all alone. And who can blame them for getting a kitten? In their defense, they were left unsupervised.

Hallmark Presents: Amid the Winter's Snow (T)

Big city businessman Baz Pitch just wants to get the promotion he's been gunning for. When he travels to his quaint hometown for Christmas, he (literally) runs into the most handsome man he's ever seen and ruins his day. Thus begins the animosity of a lifetime as the town prepares for the annual Christmas Eve Ball. Baz never asked for love. And he definitely never asked to discover the True Meaning of Christmas.

How I Find Myself Without You (T)

At a dinner party with friends, Penny, Shepard, and Agatha come clean about their relationship...and about where Agatha's been living all this time.

If You Wanna Be My Lover (T)

It's the week before graduation, and former roommates Simon and Baz run into each other at a particularly lively karaoke night. In between terrible renditions of "Brown-Eyed Girl" and "Mr. Brightside," they just might begin to realize what it is that they really really want.

NSFW FICS BELOW:

So Close, We've Always Been (E)

Simon Snow has worked in security for most of his life, having dealt with some of the most difficult clients. None has come as close to being as frustrating as Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. The man is stuck-up, arrogant, and a complete arsehole. He's rude, careless, and Simon really should have quit months ago. Until there's something more that keeps him by Baz's side... Namely him being the best shag Simon's ever had. He may insist that the nights with Baz mean nothing, but not even he can prevent the feelings that start to flicker beneath the sheets.

Hard to Get (M)

Dev needs a favour. Baz agrees despite his better judgment. Because it really wouldn't matter to anyone, especially not to Simon Snow Salisbury. Or would it?

Kiss Him, Then Go. (E)

Tomorrow morning, Simon Snow will face his lifelong nemesis on the battlefield. But tonight, he sneaks into the Pitch family compound, and seeks out his former roommate.

Feed Me I Live (Drink I Die) (M)

Off the sofa, out of the flat. That's Baz's only goal when he brings Simon along with him to a house Fiona discovered on her vampire hunt across the country. There was only supposed to be books there. Baz knows books. Simon knows how hungry creatures grow.

Midlife Crisis (E)

Following his midlife crisis, Baz finds himself in the middle of the countryside. It’s plenty annoying as it is, without the trouble of him meeting the local constable Simon Snow, whom he somehow finds attractive. But that is only due to the bloody fresh air, right? Not in one hundred years would Baz fall for someone like him.

[early-sxnsets]

We Are Far Too Young and Clever

Archive Link:��https://archiveofourown.org/works/20327977/chapters/48197671

Chapter 1/6 of We Are Far Too Young And Clever

Word Count: 3,068

Summary: Youtube's a buzzing, content-creating platform, where people from all walks of life can create and share. Simon Snow and Baz Pitch are on a rise at two very different angle, but by the coincidence of shared people, they clash and come together at all the right (and wrong) times.

~~~~~~~~~~

SIMON

I don’t really remember how it started.

Well, that’s a lie. I remember starting it. I remember setting up my mobile, using a mirror to make sure it was at the right angle (using random little things like Penny’s tiny bottles of face cleansers and such to keep it propped, despite them continuously slipping). I remember it being half past 3 in the morning on a Thursday right before a final. I wasn’t studying. I can’t study--I can’t make myself study, I should say. Never could. And, I remember laying out craft scissors, glitter glue tubes, googly eyes, and finding old class notes to go to town on.

I remember the build up.

I remember the upload, and I remember thinking nothing of it.

But I don’t remember the rise.

More to this, I don’t really know why anyone really watches my videos. I think it’s sort of dumb to watch a man now climbing further into his mid-to-late twenties sitting on his living room floor, working in a ranging the state of his soberness from completey dry to beyond wrecked, and doing shitty primary school crafts.

But then again, I’m the man making them, so I guess I’m not particularly the one to judge on this front.

Part of me still really doesn’t connect the popularity with myself--like it’s been Penny’s doing. Which, she says, might be partially true. She already had a decent enough following, but I’m on a completely different genre. She does educative videos, and she stays popular because they’re on current events topics (defines hot topics, explains what a certain celebrity is in trouble for, yada yada). I call her the cliffnotes of the ever-rolling social media 15 minutes of fame. She asks me if I’ve ever needed to read a book with cliffnotes, and I didn’t have much defense besides “You know, I was an English minor.” (“For the first year, yeah.” “Still, had a year of it.”)

But for me? I don’t do anything new or appealing.

I think I might be a handsome face (which, in all honesty, would be a nice brag, if I could actually maintain a relationship). Or maybe it’s because I can get a bit funny, especially when I’m plastered. And there’s never really any instructions when I do these things. I have a Pinterest board, a google search option, and a flow of craft store gift cards at my disposal to make shit work.

Or, maybe, I’m just entertaining.

I’m not really confident on that front, but I’ll take what I can get.

I don’t mind it much. People seem to like the videos, and I never mind making them. Brilliant distraction, and surprisingly decent income (especially since crafts require products, so sponsors are easy to get for videos, and I never feel really guilty because I’d have to get shit to use anyway).

Penny gets on my arse about my sleep schedule, though.

“Why can’t you do special editions of Simon’s Arts ‘N Crafts in the morning?” She asks, or more complains, hovering over the kitchen bar with a mug between her hands and her flannel pyjama bottoms on. It’s nearing 1 in the morning now, and I’m just cracking open my second beer. (Don’t actually like them, but they’re tolerable.)

“Aesthetic, Penn.” I cringe after a thick gulp, squeezing my eyes tight. Shit tastes like a gym sock. “Premise of it all to put up a video that looks like a bloke who hasn’t properly slept in 10 years on his floor trying to build a shitty flower crown.”

She’s been a bit fed up with it for a little while, and I can see her point. Insomniatic tendencies aren’t something you particularly want to profit off of, but it pays the bills (and gives me something better to do than stare at my ceiling and try to count sheep into the thousands).

I hear her huff, my back turning to grab my mobile off the counter as I try to chug back a few more gulps.

Thumbing through notifs, I see a post alert for Baz Pitch. Something on Twitter--commenting on the flawed mentality of what socialistic systems are seen as vs what they are, or some other poshly worded bullshit about something that only really matters if you’re taking a secondary school course on politics.

Or if you’re Penny, I guess.

“You’re looking at Baz’s shit again,” she mumbles over her mug, sipping slowly as I glare back.

“What?”

“You get this look on your face--that one where your brows come together and makes you look constipated.”

“Yes, and? What about it?”

She smirks. “Well, you only ever get that when you’re looking at something Baz posted.

I pull my brows together when I look away, just for emphasis, and slip my mobile into my pocket. “Not only,” I counter, going for another pointed sip and holding back a cringe as I point at her, going on. “And it’s only because he’s full of himself. I don’t need, nor do I want to hear his halfhearted ramblings on something that he won’t have any affect on.”

“Then why do you have him on post-notifs?”

I try to look offended, but I just stare, mouth hanging open. “Maybe I like to keep a keen eye on him.”

She hums, unsatisfied.

“Excuse me for wanting to keep track of the man I’ve got an ongoing tiff with.”

“Ongoing tiff? Is that what you’re calling it now?”

I shrug, ignoring that with another shitty gulp.

“Look, Simon, just talk to the bloke. He’s a smart guy, if you give him a second of your time and attention beyond a twitter feud over some dumb shite like his family upbringing.”

“He’s rich, Penn! Guy’s a hypocrite.”

“Maybe,” she gives me a halfhearted shrug, leaning more over the counter. “You’re just mad that he’s got more following on his personal Twitter than you do on your proper Instagram.”

“Of course not.” She’s right, but I won’t dare admit it.

I’ll never admit to being jealous of Basilton fucking Pitch--some bloody political page gone pretty boy vlogging. His main work is only relevant because he talks about shit that’s within the dizzying political-sphere, nothing of which is something I really like to think about (I vote for whoever Penny describes as the best, then hope some other prick doesn’t throw us deeper into the cesspool that is this Brexit nightmare).

But he has his vlogging channel. A popular one, at that. Talks about what he’s reading, where he’s traveling. Skincare routine. Mindless bullshit, that I’ve forced myself to sit through just so I have a proper excuse to go off complaining about him.

Never seen the bloke break a proper smile, though. Not even in fan pictures. He smirks, and he’s got a barking, bitter laugh, but I’ve never heard anything that relates “Joyous” and “Basilton” in a similar sentence.

It’s a wonder he and Penn interact amicably.

She scoffs at me, sipping her tea slowly as my shoulders slump, beer can held tight enough in my hand that it’s denting in at my fingers. I should probably let go of it.

“Are you gonna help me set up?” I ask, deflating from the conversation and trying to distract with a new one.

“If you need help.”

“Need? No. Want? Yeah.”

She rolls her eyes, settling the mug down onto our countertop anyway before turning to start dragging the lights out of the side closet while I polish off my drink and head to grab my camera and tripod.

I’ve gotten better at this over the years. Swapped majors from social work to media studies, then minored in advertising, once the channel had hit 1k subscribers. Hadn’t quit my dayjob at the cafe until I hit 100k, but the steady rise since hasn’t been bad to us. Penny’s got a decent income, too, and she still decides to work in the school’s library as she’s working on her PhD in Sociology.

The flat’s a better one than the one we’d started in. We’ve even got a guest bedroom (screams disposable income). And, well, nicer equipment. A real sense of seriousness and maturity while we work.

Well, mostly.

I’m speaking as the grown man with a metal cabinet full of crafts supplies.

Business man with craft supplies.

Makes me sound more professional than “Newly 27 year old Youtuber who does nothing of serious impact, other than hoping to make others smile while throwing together terribly made, barely functioning crafts.”

I make my way back into the living room after setting up the camera and wandering back off, arms full of supplies as Penny starts setting up cameras, glancing over her shoulder. “What’d you choose tonight?”

I look down, then plop myself onto the floor and spread out my shit. “Uhh,” I say, shifting through. “I was thinking a beer can ghost.”

“Beer can ghost?”

I nod, holding up the gauze and glue. “As a Happy Halloween episode.”

“It’s not even October yet, Si.”

I shrug. “September’s close enough.” I grin, going off to grab my empty beer can and sprawling back out onto the floor. “Want to join in?”

“I think I’ll take a rain check for this episode, thank you.” She smiles teasingly, brushing past and messing my hair a bit as I’m settling myself onto the hardwood floor. I don’t take it harshly; I never take her harshly. I don’t think I’ve got the room to take it harshly, given I don’t seriously have anyone else in my life besides her (at least on a consistent basis).

“Suit yourself!” I call back, watching her disappear into her bedroom while shutting the door behind herself.

Before going at it, I take and post a quick Instagram picture at the layout in front of me, adding Halloween-themed emojis (so everyone knows I’m serious about wanting to get festive) as the caption.

I sigh and clear up my space, glancing around to make sure the area looks clean-enough, then get up to press start. It takes a second to make my way back and get myself properly situated on the floor, exhaling quietly and collecting my thoughts before shooting my head up and grinning at the camera angled a few feet away and slightly above eyeline with me.

“Hey everyone! Welcome back to Simon’s Arts ‘N Crafts!”

BAZ

I don’t understand the hype of Simon Snow.

I never truly have. He feels like he’s the sort of mindless bloke to pull out a guitar at uni and unironically start playing Wonderwall.

Allow me to rephrase; I don’t understand the hype of Simon Snow’s channel.

Snow himself, on the other hand, is a different story.

Cheerful smile, rosey cheeks. Curls that stick out at all angles (you’d think he’d try to style them properly, given he’s got the time and money now, but he doesn’t; he looks as disheveled as the day his channel began). Snow’s an utter mess just trying to occupy himself while avoiding other aspects of life, and somehow, for reasons I can’t chalk up to anything but his glittering disposition, he’s popular.

Not too popular, no. A couple million popular. Sponsored by major chains popular, due to the spike in young hobbyists trying to “Unleash their inner child” following his lead. But, of course, he donates huge portions to schools, giving them arts supplies and, for some saintly reason, gives to orphanages too.

I wonder at times if there’s anything deeper than just a handsome public face and overly generous donor. And, usually, I try to doubt there is, but I can’t quite ignore the occasional sign that Simon Snow may be a saint, and I fucking hate him for it.

I hate him for a number of reasons, starting with “He hates me”, and ending with “He’s gorgeous, and he hates me”.

I scroll down my Instagram feed, then refresh, immediately getting his post as a priority (I feel as though I’d be damned if anyone knew how often I go to simply look at him, or try to snoop through his older pictures to put the pieces together). It’s not much; his lap, which is a pair of grey joggers (Chris, I bet he looks fit in them), mismatched athletic socks, and a pile of half pulled-apart gauze, supplies for paper mache, an emptied beer can, and a sponge brush laying on a disposable plastic tarp. It’s simply captioned with a set of emojis that are definitely a few weeks too early.

baz.pitch Can’t count a calendar, Snow? Not surprised.

I stare at the comment for a brief moment, jaw clenching and swallowing back the strange, twinge that comes with our either interaction as quickly as it appears before trying to scroll and avoid any further thoughts on the matter.

It isn’t much longer before a notification drops down, hanging over the top of my screen.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Are you still awake, or sleep-commenting?

I snort and tap onto it, letting the direct messaging screen load up.

baz.pitch: I am awake

baz.pitch: Is there something you want, Bunce?

Penelope Bunce and I interact far more than I’d originally thought we would. At first, when she first reached out, I’d assumed we’d quarrel, given her general harshness brought through her Twitter account, but I soon learned that she and I have a good bit in common. Personal views align, and she’s got a devilishly sharp sense of humour on her (not that I’d ever tell her, of course). Never thought I’d consider her not only an ally, but a friend in this harsh digital age, but I’ve found solace in her conversations.

That, and she teases Snow for me more than I could ever repay her for.

When I say tease, it isn’t quite the taunting I find myself regularly drawn into, but rather the simple name drop can be enough to get him to squirm in place (I know; I’ve seen it through live streams). I’ve never found it in myself to say any of my opinions on Snow to her, but given her intellect, I’d assumed she knows far more about my views of him than what Snow knows himself.

Which, at times, scares me. Nobody should know any vulnerability about me, unless I know equally as much incriminating information on them.

But so far, I haven’t had much a reason to worry.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Do you know when you’ll find yourself in London again?

Interesting question.

Intentionally? Who the fuck knows.

As of recent, my life has consisted of no proper flat (which has begrudgingly left me living in my family’s manor, avoiding a permanent residence) while I hop about the island, then once a month, I spend a week in some various part of Europe. I just see it as trying to squeeze the most out of my life as a pitiful bachelor, but some others (Snow) consider this as me being a privileged arsehole and not wanting to commit to a proper life. (For the record, I regularly donate to LGBTQ+ nonprofits, but you don’t see me flaunting it in my personal work.)

Whatever. He probably hasn’t gotten snogged in the back of a Porsche in Venice during late spring.

Although, admittedly, that wasn’t very fulfilling.

Those trips never quite are.

And, sadly, neither are the men. All looking somewhat of a similar face; square jawed, wide-nosed. Long necks, wide shoulders, and curly hair that I love to tug and hold back.

But none of them are ever named Simon, and none of them hit quite the spot that this damned yearning has held.

Which is, I suppose, why I’m rarely ever in London. I’m not sure what I’d do with myself in London, unless I’m there with a purpose. I feel like I might go off the rails and try to actually find Snow without the guidance of some other party. I’d be a walking disaster.

baz.pitch: Depends on why you’re asking

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Well, a couple of reasons.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Which all ultimately have the same suggested outcome of us collaborating on a video, and I’m not particularly set on getting myself out to Hampshire to sit in your frankly terrifying mansion.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Plus, you can put me out of my misery and finally speak to Simon in person, for once. He’s driving me mad, and at this point, I’d pay for you to just put him to silence in person, for once.

As tempting as it seems, a small part of me worries that Bunce is believing that I’d sock Snow instead of snog him (maybe both are possible, but assaulting someone on their own property is risky at best).

I stare at my screen for a good, long pause, worrying at my lip as her typing pop-up ceases. It’s hard to not leap at opportunities I really wish to take--to just hold my dignity to somewhat of a respectable point.

But Snow crashes any barriers of my real rigidity.

He has for well over a few years now--ever since we were introduced digitally.

I’ve found myself watching his videos, over and over again, and trying to imagine how we’d play about. I like to wonder whatever happened to that pretty girlfriend of his (I’m aware they broke up, but he’s certainly too private to share the rest).

It’s been years since I first heard about Snow, and since then, I can’t quite get him off my mind.

It’s quite dizzying, trying to get Snow off my thoughts. I try to occupy--I try to fulfill. I try to find my way through life without some dull half-rivalry, full-teasing he and I share through out linked lives, but it’s like a drug. Draws me in, making me wish I had more of a good thing while trying to ignore that the good thing isn’t quite good for me, but rather simply a shocking want, prickling under my skin and bringing me back for more.

In all the things I do to occupy myself--to occupy the life I’ve been trying to lead (without success)--Snow’s been my favorite distraction. And I might just have to break through this and meet him, for once.

baz.pitch: Give me a time and a place and I’ll fit you into my schedule

[whosxafraid]

[ x ] @brooklynislandgirl

The box addressed to Luka during mail call is small. Smaller still the one inside it. It can be fitted to a computer usb but includes an adaptor for his phone. Because she thinks of everything. It’s a strange gift. The drive is filled with one video. It starts with her in the morning, sans make up, still in her pyjamas and holding up a cup of coffee. She smiles sleepily into the camera. “Mornin’ Lulu. If ya watchin’ dis, means ya got my Christmas present. I know bein’ ovah-seas can be really hard, especially when ya feel cut off an’ alone from da people ya considah family. So…wi’ dat in mind, dis video gonna be me takin’ ya t'rough a day in da life. One ya can hold onto, one ya can watch whenevah ya missin’ us. Missin’ me.” And she does just that. It cuts off just before she slips into the shower. Resumes when she’s dressed again. They go to morning mass, then she helps serve breakfast to Father Vinnie’s homeless congregation, before passing out blankets and hats, gloves and other winter survival gear. She holds one little girl against her hip ~born to motherhood was Beth~ and the rest of the kids sing carols and thank Luka and his unit for their donations, and helping Santa find them, even though it isn’t Christmas yet.

Lunch at her favourite vegan cafe and she chats about how impressed she was that he even got some of the ship’s crew to pitch in for her church’s children’s programs and that thanks to them all of the kids and most of the adults will have hot meals for weeks. Not to mention a roof over their heads until after the new year. She has never looked so radiantly happy, and promises to show him when he gets home just what it all means to her. The it’s normal errands, picking up Andy’s dry-cleaning, dropping off lunch and donuts for Baz. It’s having a coffee in Central Park, and a stolen moment or two from Jay wishing him the best of holidays and Happy Hanukkah. Closer to sunset and its video of lights and displays and the snow drifting down in multi-coloured showers that melt into her hair.

Eventually she even takes clips and things from the ER, no patients though. She wouldn’t endanger them, or violate patients rights but there’s some quiet moments while working on her charting, and the nurses also send their greetings. She takes pictures of the doctors who no longer treat her like chattel.

The video ends nearly a full 24 hours later as she is exhaustedly dropping into her brother’s chair, and her eyes can barely stay open. “So, dat’s it. A day back at home because ya no can be here. I hope it makes ya feel less lonely. Love you, Lulu. Come home safe to us. Mele Kalikimaka!!!”

Mail call and...he doesn’t really realize the way his head snaps up from his book when his name cuts across the room. Or for that matter how more falls out of his bunk than climbs. His feet struggling to shift him across the space as quickly as possible, while his dips and dodges around the low hanging pipes in the ceiling. All he knows is once his fingers are wrapped around the rather small box, it only takes a second for smile to start forming on his lips. A little less deftly working his way back to his bunk, as he tears into the package.

A small sound of amusement at the shark that ends up in his palm, a check of the box to make sure he hadn’t overlooked everything. But then it all becomes a bit..confused. Brows knitting together. She sent him a usb? That was...odd. Then again his mind almost instantly starts buzzing with all the things that could be on, verses what mostly would be on it, verses what actually was on it. Because Beth? She isn’t your typical...well anyone. She’s her. But just to be safe...he’ll be using that adapter. Doesn’t need any of the lads possibly seeing or hearing something they don’t need to. 

So the shark is tucked away in his bunk for safe keeping until a few hours later when the lot of his squad are sleeping off a few contraband food parcels that no body asked where House got them from. 

And it’s a bit like single player twister, when he finally hears House kick against the bunk beneath him, their particular not so complicated ‘all clear’ signal. Turning around in a way he can reach where he’d hidden his treasure. Another angle managed that wasn’t natural for his phone and earbuds. And then its simply turning the damn thing on, letting it boot. Getting everything plugged in and opening the file. And...

              “Good mornin’, beautiful.”

Mouthed more than said, a warm little grin on his face. One that grows by fractions when she explains what this whole home movie is about. A documentary of Beth’s life when he’s not there? He’ll take it and with lots of than---Okay extra lots of thanks, because damn that view. He wasn’t expecting that. And he’ll never admit to the fact that he rewound it once...okay twice before letting the video play on unhindered. World can judge him if it likes but he’s been gone pushing 19 months now. He misses much more than just her bright personality.

The camera cuts in a slightly shaky manner and then its off to the proverbial races. Mass that makes him feel...alot guilty he lets that slip so much when he’s not home. And he makes a mental note to do better, while simultaneously knowing...he really won’t. Then breakfast for the homeless and handing out much needed supplies.Caroling and the cutest wee lass on Beth’s hip that makes long for other things, but swallows it down because that’s not really his decision. The thanks from the children has him all teeth smiling nose inches away from the screen as he is.

That only grows wider when it all changes up to Beth out to eat at her favorite cafe. (He recognizes the signage in the window.) Chattering on about how grateful she is everyone helped. How far that help is going to get those kids and most of the adults food in their stomachs and somewhere warm to sleep. And even though its only video he can see it can’t he? How happy she is. How she seems to glow with it. And between that and the way she’s framed by the snow lined window behind her--he maybe misses home just a little bit more than he did moments before.

He’ll have to find a way to share this bit with the lads, though artfully removing the last few seconds because they don’t need to be privy to just how Beth might choose to fulfill that promise. Because he knows they’ll be just as happy the ‘chitlins’, as Mason called them, got all the things they needed. And at least some of the things they wanted, because Gorilla had insisted and his kids had jumped all over the quest. Drug their school mates into it. Shown up at Beth’s church per Gorilla’s wife’s email with a Santa sized stash of toys for all the programs kids. Without a dime of the donated funds spent.

Then its a flurry of every day ordinary things. Dry cleaning, dropping off food for the engine gremlin. Coffee in the park with Jay. Where he reads far more into the wink she gives the camera than Beth ever would think too. Things like : Everything is set for Christmas morning. Everyone’s got their jobs. It’ll be perfect or I’ll kill them all. We got you, Jamba.

And from there it’s more...subdued. Clips of her filling out charts. Small breaks with coffee he can taste the Styrofoam cups from here. And maybe now and then a thumb subconsciously traces the lines of her face. Trying to wipe away the exhaustion. Forgetting his own in the wake of it. A small awkward sense in his stomach as a few of the nurses from that first Thanksgiving that had all but attempt to climb him like a tree, offered hellos and happy holidays.  

Next came a few paused photos of some of the doctors. A few of which he can tell are smiling for the sake of well...a lot of things.  Because he’s far more perceptive than Beth sometimes gives him credit for. So he’d flexed just enough to make it clear, she wasn’t up for dibs. Especially for slime bags like that. And that if they didn’t keep their hands to themselves he’d ruin their medical careers. Which had nothing to do with lawsuits. 

A few more sped up clips of her making rounds. Talking with the other nurses. Coffee with one of the janitors that had missed their bus, and Beth had taken it upon her self to spend her break making sure they weren’t standing out in the cold alone. Something that again makes him miss home, miss her more than he had before he’d started this whole thing. So by the time the video is crawling towards its end, Beth curled up in her brother’s chair---there’s an aching want to be there. A need to pick her up and tuck her into bed. Settle up beside her and sleep until who cared in the afternoon. But he can’t. An---

Everything stop. The video. His breathing. His heart for a certifiable few beats. Why? Because had she just? No. No way that couldn’t have been what she said. And he’s backing the video up. Turning up the volume in his ear buds and Sweet Holy Mary...she did. She’d....said........it. And perhaps irrationally his ears burn as he backs it up and plays it again over and over. The blood in his veins heating to levels that might be embarrassing if anyone could notice. The glass like quality his gaze suddenly has and---

That. That right there was the best Christmas present she could have ever given him. The best...anything she could have given him. And he knows right then, middle of no where South which ever ocean sea they’re in now...he’ll never forget what it sounds like, or what it felt like to hear it. Second hand through a video or not. She’d said it and he wasn’t ever going to give it away. Except maybe to return it. But that would have to wait until Sunday. Radio silence as they were for the next few days. And there’s a heavy sigh in the quiet of the bunk space.

Sometimes...he really---disliked the hindrances that came with the responsibility.

[maggotmouth]

      rises from the dead like mushu hullo it’s nora ( gmt, she/her) n i’m sorry didnt do my intro yesterday, i woke up in a bath, happy new year. anyway bridget is a mess, the angsty socialist leftie liberal who gets fucked at the pub and goes off on one about immigration or the welfare state or the pay gap. very talkative n bubbly, carefree but also.... cares too much. always in docs but only the vegan ones. usually in a beret with an anarchist symbol painted on it. wears a long green trench coat covered in badges for alt punk rock bands or a red denim jacket that she hacked into a crop jacket with a pair of kitchen scissors. film nerd. got in on a partially subsidised scholarship and works in a bar and a fast food place to pay for her accomodation. 

heres a pinboard. everythin else is below this cut, like this post n i’ll smash that im button for plots x

it might be HER SOPHOMORE year but I still think BRIDGET MATUSIAK looks exactly like MARGARET QUALLEY and sometimes I think the FEMALE is actually them. Of course I’m wrong, as they’re TWENTY and studying FILM while living in FIDELIS here at Lockwood. The ARIES can be rather CANDID and GARRULOUS, but also kind of FICKLE and ERRATIC. Their most played song on Spotify was NOBODY REALLY CARES IF YOU DON’T GO TO THE PARTY by COURTNEY BARNETT, so I think that says a lot.

bridget n her mum alice were more like sisters growing up, probably because of the closeness in age. alice should’ve known that you couldn’t have a thirteen-year-old-daughter at 27 without everyone knowing you’d been one of those girls who gave it away fast as a hot potato, and maybe bridget should have known that she’d inherit more than her mother’s wide eyes, that things had a way of circling back, that at fourteen she too would lose it on the floor of a swimming pool changing room, soggy back, poka-dot nylon pulled down to her ankles.

her parents met in high school. her mother alice was a roman catholic – uneducated in matters of safe sex, mother mary around her neck, bras hanging over wooden crucifixes – and willing to give it to the first boy who seemed interested enough, gift-wrapped or not.

i say they met in high school, bridget’s dad wasn’t actually in school, they met at the high school. he was the father to a girl down the road. alice knew nothing of the girl besides her name and the few encounters in the corridors facing a stoney stare that screamed homewrecker. it only happened once, but once was enough. soon the pitter patter of tiny feet sounded along the hall of the home for wayward women, alice’s parents having thrown her out as soon as they knew a child was growing in her womb.

gilly (referred to as junior) was born two years later, the son of a mechanic and handyman named gilbert “gilly” senior, who - while a slow-witted man – was likable enough. alice, gilly bridget & junior lived in a colorado trailer park and whenever she wasn’t at school bridget would be in gilly’s workshop doin her homework surrounded by parts of exhausts.  was raised in a workshop basically.

like her mother, bridget fell pregnant barely out of her gingham print dresses, hair in two plaits down her back, teddies still lining her bed. unlike her mum, she was not box-shipped out to a home for fallen women but rather booked into a clinic, given a pill, just like taking your vitamins.

her mother flaked out when bridget was around fifteen and junior was twelve, leaving gil to adopt the two as legal guardian and raise them in the forge. she’s lived with gilly ever since. they’re not sure where their mother went. some say she rededicated herself as a virgin and joined the convent in penance for her sins. some say she works in a las vegas strip club and sells pills to minors.

used to do sponsored silences and hunger strikes for kids in third world countries. was that kid in school who was always raising money something. i mean its kinda cute but also she just wanted the acclaim and attention so.... and most of the time it didn’t even make it to the disadvantaged kids she was raising it for cos her mom needed rent money or to buy the kids new shoes n they could barely afford much themselves

she’s a strident feminist, an activist for human rights and animal rights, a vocal vegetarian and an all-round soapbox sadie. catch her in the quad shouting about human rights through a megaphone.

aesthetic: cuffed jeans, thrifted or stolen. white converse, more grey tbh through years of wear. crop tops and plaid shirts tied round her waist. a long green trench coat with loads of badge pins for alt-rock bands and independent films. red denim jacket, also covered in badges n pins. smudged mascara. glitter smeared over cheekbones from the previous night. cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

an aspiring screenwriter. she has a very image-based view of memory and experience. always doing a screenplay or shooting film. her style has a lot of catholic iconography (think virgin suicides styler or baz luhrmann’s romeo + juliet if it was done on a super 8 camera) bcos catholicism is one of the few things she remembers about her mother. she’s never actually tried to find her mum / find out about her, jst…. occasionally channels that energy into her work.

hypersexual and kinda manic-depressive (though not diagnosed) probs bcos her upbringing was a bit unstable, she started life in a house that was literally designed to rehabilitate “fallen women” and she was a looked after child for a while when the adoption papers were still going through… struggles a lot with feeling unwanted, especially since her grandparesnts refuse to acknowledge her existence cos she was born outside of marriage….. so she craves feeling wanted,, like despite being a real women’s rights activist ad hating objectification, at the same time to bridge there’s nothing better than someone sizing you up with hunger in their eyes

she’s queer, but i guess she favours women, and is incredibly vocal in her support of the lgbt+ movement. often at ralleys. has done a face-sitting protest. really is that bitch

there’s a degree of anger for anger’s sake in bridget. she likes passionate, angry music – particularly garage rock, punk and riot grrrl. she loves the slits and skinny girl diet. viv albertine inspired her to take up bass guitar.

working two jobs to pay for uni currently !! works at the bowling alley polishing the shpes and fixing the bowling lanes, and also is a burger flipper at mcdonalds. a lot of her time is spent in the record store, plugged into a set of headphones, head-banging in the corner to a scratched record. music, for birdie, is a form of escapism. that and dropping acid in parking lots lmao.

massive film buff. is majoring in film at uni also spends a lot of time at the movie theatre n probably has like a season ticket. is one of those pretentious film nerds who’s like “what do u think of goddard’s work?” but also just really into shitty horror movies

she spends her evenings in downtown bars willing away her boredom, trying to find something that’ll jerk her out of apathetic lethargy. she toys with the idea of becoming a stripper — it certainly pays better than fixing bowling lanes — but she lacks the energy to dance for several hours a night.

she loves b movies and slasher flicks. at parties, she’ll occasionally try to make a horror of her own, on a super 8 camera in someone’s basement, very paranormal activity, but she’ll inevitably get bored, or too drunk and give up, like she does with most things in her life. she lacks drive and motivation. she’s bright but there’s no hunger in her.

writes shitty poems on the back of napkins and quotes dead philosophers she’s never read. romanticises herself a lot. like will be standing there in a ripped t-shirt and her undies smoking a cig like “hmmm… i bet someone is falling in love with me right now”

is vegetarian for environmental reasons but snorts coke at parties ?? sis, it don’t add up

loves dirt. ate a worm once because someone dared her too. shamelessly disgusting.

she’s slightly obsessed with true crime, up late watching documentaries on the manson family murders.

she’s fickle and enigmatic. one moment she could be your best friend, the next, she’ll behave like a total stranger. bridget’s unpredictable because she’s still unsure of her own identity, frequently flitting between different characters, like snake skins, before she grows bored of being bubbly and eager and becomes spiteful again. her core personality traits are probably forthright, impulsive, restless, thrill-seeking, selfish, melancholic.

an awful person, really

feel free to im me if u wanna plot, here are some plot ideas i stole, or, like this post and i’ll hit u with a message!

[chaos-is--asexual]

More (!) SnowBaz One Shots

Its been an hour since they got her and they still couldn’t think of a name. Simon held the dog’s leash as they walked down the busy streets of London. A week after their pivotal We Should Get a Dog discussion they found themselves in one of the many animal shelters London had to offer. The couple was instantly smitten with the stout American bulldog because, well, she appeared to be smiling, underbite and all.

“Baz, darling, loved one, we need to get this dog. She wants to be loved. By us. Lookit, she even has upside down fangs.” Simon then pointed to the aforementioned underbite.

It didn’t take much to convince Baz.

Which is why they were currently wracking their brains for the newest member of their family. Simon held the dog’s leash, but the dog was leading him more than Simon was walking her. His arm was outstretched all the way, and Baz would be a damn fool if he didn’t notice the way Simon’s arm was toned underneath the cotton of his Iron Man comic shirt.

She was panting heavily, and Simon and Baz weren’t sure if it was due to all of the excitement of the day, she was hot, or maybe she just tired super easily.

“Okay,” started Simon, “we gotta give our furry little friend a name. Say the first name that comes to mind.”

“Veronica.” Baz blurted out.

“Too harsh.”

“Cheryl.”

“Too average American housewife.”

“Blossom.”

“Oh my god Baz you have been watching way too much Riverdale.” Baz blushed slightly, and Simon would be lying if he said he didn’t find it adorable. “But… what about the name Betty? I kind of like how it's the quintessential grandma name.” Simon looked at the ground, waiting for the snark that was bound to leave Baz’s lips.

But it never came.

“I think that’s a perfect name, Snow.” The two, well, three, of them stopped in their tracks, and Simon and Baz looked at each other and shared a smile filled with blissful happiness. Baz then bent down on the sidewalk and looked right at Betty.

“Welcome to the family, Betty Snow-Pitch.”

And to think Baz said he didn’t like dogs.

———————————————————————————————————

“Your nose is going to peel so badly in a few days.” Remarked Baz sparing a glance from the driver’s seat at his boyfriend, who was preoccupied with looking out the window, looking like a tired toddler. His bronze curls were disheveled, sand peeking out from the base of his scalp, new freckles already forming on his cheekbones, and, of course, a nose the color of strawberry jam. (Someone forgot to reapply sunscreen after they took a dip in the water.)

“Ugh, yes I know Baz. I’m burnt. I’m crisp. I have baby skin or whatever you called it earlier. We get it, the sun’s wrath conquered me.” Simon said playfully, a hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. Baz chuckled, his nose crinkled up. “Oh Christmas,” Simon said with realization, “Penny is absolutely going to destroy me. My nose, my shoulders, even my bloody legs— I look like a walking tomato.”

Now Baz was full on hysterical laughing, his nose all scrunched, eyes squinted, lips revealing every one of his pearly whites. He “good-naturedly” stuck his hand out to pat Simon on the shoulders, an act of comradeship he claimed, which resulted in an aggravated wince from Simon. With his pale gray eyes back on the road and arms lazily gripping the wheel at 10 and 2, he said “Oh cheer up, Snow. Maybe we can pick up some aloe vera gel on the way home. I’d be more than happy to rub it on your toasty shoulders.” Baz and Simon made brief eye contact, Baz raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Simon smiled a sweet, shy smile, exposing a dimple in his left cheek. “Alright, Baz, then I think this whole sunburn ordeal might be worth it after all.” Simon went back to gazing out the window absentmindedly. He stuck his hand out of the open car window, making waves in the air, angling his wrist this way and that, redirecting the breeze.

The drive home from the beach was filled with content silence. Their bodies tight from the sun, sand trapped in the seams of the fabric seats, sunglasses lazily resting on their heads, and golden, late-afternoon rays capturing the moment forever in a hazy glow.

———————————————————————————————————

It was a year after the incident. You know, the incident from last year during winter break. With the Mage and Ebb and Simon— yeah, you know the one.

Simon and Baz had just arrived back at Simon’s apartment from Watford. Penny was staying with her parents.

Watford had thrown a remembrance type event to celebrate Ebb’s memory, the conquer of Good over Bad, the evil, the Insidious Humdrum, or whatever you would want to call it. Everyone was “invited,” but it wasn’t a celebration where people sent out invites or anything. It was like a funeral, people heard about it through word of mouth.

Headmistress Bunce wanted to honor the courage of everyone involved the whole affair, carefully avoiding any mention of the Mage.

Baz saw how hard it was for Simon to be back, especially on the anniversary of the night that Simon lost his gift, his power. He could practically feel the pain radiating off of Simon. Baz wanted to be a sponge and absorb all of his troubles.

He saw that he only cried once during the whole affair. When he saw Ebb’s portrait as they walked into the school.

But they were home now. Thankfully no one stared at Simon for too long or asked him how it felt being magic-less. If they did, so help him god, Baz would have made them wish they’d never been born.

Simon climbed into bed, not bothering to shower, simply slipping on his sweatpants and a worn gray cotton t-shirt. Baz followed suit, carefully taking off his clothes and hanging them up neatly in the closet. (It didn’t matter that he didn’t live there, half of Simon’s wardrobe was filled with Baz’s things.) Baz climbed into bed and snuggled up next to Simon, enveloping him in his arms.

“Love,” he started tentatively, “do you want to talk ab-“

“No, Baz. I love you, but I can’t relive it right now.” His voice was muffled. Simon had his good days and his bad, like everyone. He was working hard with his therapist to overcome the trauma of that fateful winter day, and he was also relearning who he was. A sometimes painful and heartbreaking process. But for the most part, he was his usual annoyingly charming self. But today was one of those really bad days.

“Tell me a story, Baz,” Simon whispered. They would play this game sometimes when life became too overwhelming; they’d escape themselves for a little bit.

“Okay, love.” Baz nestled his head in the space between Simon’s head and shoulder. He began: “There was once a prince, and he was so stupidly brave. And kind. Like, he was the type of guy who would’ve washed the windows of a children’s hospital dressed as Spiderman type of kind. He was made out of it. He tried to make everyone feel like they had a special place in this world.” Baz paused, thinking about where the story should go next. He reached up and brushed his fingers through Simon’s hair.

“But, somehow, the prince realized that he wasn’t really a prince.” Baz could tell Simon knew where the story was going, but he was kind enough to let him continue. “However, it didn’t matter that he wasn’t technically a prince anymore, because he was still himself, ya know, just without all those fancy titles. He was still stupidly brave, and more good-looking than anyone had a right to be, and still so marvelously kind.” He paused and kissed Simon’s ear. “You are still you, Simon. Please, never forget that. Never forget that I will always love you, Simon, in any form. Chosen One, prince, vampire, toad, it doesn’t matter, you are still you.”

The pair of them stayed quiet for a long time when Simon finally broke the silence and turned to face Baz in the dark. “I love you too, Baz, in any form. Forever.”

“I know, Simon.” They leaned their foreheads against each other, an act so intimate, more so than any kiss, and it felt like their hearts were jolted using jumper cables. “Let's get some rest, love.”

And they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

[thatyorkshireguy-blog]

Thumbs Up Friend

The 1 week countdown is on! Like Craig David, I have 7 days left to get all my sh*t sorted in the UK and then get on that bird and fly across to Chile.  For my next post I just wanted to highlight a few individuals and the importance of friends in life. 

The weekend just gone has seen me have a party with my nearest and dearest at a friends house, and also today is International Mens Day, so it seems fitting that I use this day to name drop a few positive influences in my life over recent months (Not just men). My words will not do any of these people justice but it’s just a way of getting some thoughts down

First and foremost I want to mention the man above who is holding a mannequins head: James Hartley aka Baz 

Over the last few years me and this bearded fellow have become very close and probably the gent who I have spent the most time with during recent times. He has always been there to keep me grounded and calm in times of crisis or when important decisions need to be made.  

He played a huge part of my first fight camp and was even in my corner during my second fight. James is a frequent traveller and has spent much of his time over in Australia. So he has also given me quite a bit of guidance with travelling abroad and a few pointers of what to expect. 

James isn’t built for the UK.  Like me, he is a hippy of this world and appreciates warmer weather and the beauty of nature around him. Which is why I’m so happy that recently he has been awarded his visa, meaning he can now go live in Australia.  Old Bazzer will be hopping on his own flight during December and I am so very happy for him.  I sincerely don’t know what I would have done without this man over the recent times and i’ve had the best year going on a variety of adventures. 

Phil (aka bruno) & Melanie Brookes

I don’t think I know a couple like these two. They are everything and two people I love so much.  Two people so very different yet work so beautifully it’s so heartwarming to see. 

I’ve been friends with Phil a long time and our friendship has just continued to grow and grow. Phil recently got married to Mel and I had the pleasure of being 1 of the 2 best men on the day which was a very humbling moment.  

Over the weekend, both Mel and Phil sat me down and gave me so many words of reassurance and I feel so very lucky that I have these two as a comfort blanket should my future not go the way it is currently intended.  Instead of waking up on Sunday with a mighty hangover and the fear of what I had done or who I had to apologise to....... I woke up with a stinking hangover and a heart full of love. 

I can’t believe these two care for me like they do and it’s just an incredible feeling to have them.  I really can’t thank these two enough for everything they have done, and it’s mind blowing to realise what impact I am actually having just by leaving the country. 

If you read this, I love you both very much and thank you so much for your words of support. 

Just beautiful people with hearts bigger than anyone I know. 

The Glovers 

My 2nd family.  

I’ve spent the last 5 or 6 Christmas’s with these guys and lived with both Liam (right) and Paul (left).  Mum and Dad of the family, Jane and Jim have also been like 2nd parents.  

Liam played a huge part in giving me a kick up the a$$ when I was at a bit of a low and needed that push to do something about it. 

Myself and Paul were inseparable but as many things in life happen, we all have things to do and changes to make, so unfortunately I haven’t spent as much time with Paul over the last 12 months as I would have liked. 

It will be very strange not spending the festive period with my 2nd family but I love them and thank them so much for the constant support they have given me over the last 10 years. 

Nic Marsden

I can’t write about my friends who have made an impact without writing about Marsden. Like Liam Glover, she was a huge influence on me changing my life around. I made a pinky promise on the night that changed my life to go ahead and fight. I kept that pinky promise. 

Nic is an incredible person, not just with me but with so many people, especially my team mates at CMMAA.  She might be single handedly the least selfish person I have ever met.  Myself and Nic bonded straight away when we met a few years back and along with Baz, we formed a trio and became inseparable last year! 

This lady played a huge part of fight camp no1 and gave up so much of her time to make sure I was prepared.  A person who hasn’t had the easiest of lives and a person who despite some big challenges faced, her heart continues to be huge and faces everything head on. 

I will be sad to say good bye to this person and she deserves all the happiness in the world. Thank you Nic. For everything. 

Charles Martin Martial Arts

A few years back I was recommended this place to train for a charity kickboxing event. I truly didn’t realise what impact this place would have on my life. 

Right from word go, the founder, Charlie Martin, made me feel at home and just understood what was going on in my head at the time. I love this man and love this place. 

Over the last two 1/2 years I have formed an incredible bond with this place and I will continue to support them with anything they need following my move. 

I have made some amazing friends and the place is full of amazing people. One of which is Richard Herbert who offered me a roof over my head in recent times and where I have lived in 2018. A talented martial artist who also has a kind heart. I might not show it much to Richard because my life has been at 300mph but I am very grateful for this chap helping me out and also providing me with a very fun zoo of animals to live with. So much so that I might have to steal one of his cats who I have fallen in love with. 

The big cat in the top picture is Jeff Leggott. He has been an incredible person in my life of late. We just click and he has a really big heart too.  He put so much time to one side for me and really put me in a good place for my second fight. I had the pleasure of returning the favour and cornering him. He won by 2nd round tko. It was an emotional night and I was just so proud of the guy following all the hard work he had put in! 

Thank you to everyone at Charles Martin Martial Arts.  You’re all incredible people and I will just miss you all so much.

Liam Swift and the Helm team

I mentioned Liam Swift in a previous post, but this guy deserves all the thanks. We met about 10 years ago and our paths just keep crossing. He’s a huge reason I am in the position I am in with my job.  He has also supported me during my career on a number of occasions. 

What Liam has created at Helm, a co-working studio in Doncaster, is just awesome. It houses some incredibly gifted creative talent and each one of them (Including my hero’s at Mini Kicks) has made such a positive impact on my life. They have all pushed me on my own adventure and all provided sound advice and listened to any fears I have. 

I will be a Helm member in South America and will continue to work with and support each other moving forward. 

These guys rock my world! 

Feeling Lucky

This post could be the worlds longest if I actually thanked every one of my friends, even just close ones, and if you don’t see your name on this, don’t think your impact in my life is any less significant.

I looked around at the weekend and my friends  had put on a get together for myself, and my broski James Hartley (Oh and celebrating a new kitchen haha) but my god did I feel like the luckiest man in the world.  I am moving to Chile to be with a beautiful, kind and caring woman.....but I am leaving some incredibly special people.  Big Stu, Leanne, Frank, Den, Clare, Ben, Marj........you’re awesome. 

My biggest fear about leaving, is the gap in my heart and mind that could be left  , knowing that my friends are not around the corner, but after spending so much time with them leading up to my adventure, I know full well that all I have to do is pick up the phone to get help and support. 

I firmly believe there isn’t a friendship group like my own and I don’t think I could be any more loved than I am right now. FUCK GUYS!!!!! I FEEL SO LOVED!  You are all amazing and i’ve got a massive heart shaped boner for you all right!

I might be going solo on this adventure to be with my lady, but I know you’re going to be with me every step of the way, one way or another. 

[forabeatofadrum]

che col tuo lume mi levasti - chapter one

Notes: I didn’t want to have a huge author’s note on the small prologue, so I didn’t mention it there, but the title is once again from Dante’s Paradiso, canto 1, line 73. It translates to “it was your light that raised me”.

AO3

--

2018

BAZ

Simon Snow loves butter.

Luckily, the Salisbury home is filled with it. Lady Ruth loves to bake. Simon and his grandmother are in the kitchen using an ungodly amount of butter, but it’s the festive season, so they have a lot of cakes to bake.

I try to tell Simon that I’m off to Fiona’s flat, but he’s too busy mixing butter.

But I don’t mind. I love how relaxed he is when he’s around his grandmother. Simon has only known his grandmother and uncle for a little over a year, but they act like they’ve always known each other. It warms my heart.

So I don’t want to interrupt this moment. Instead, I tell Ms. Snow and Jamie that I’m heading out and I ask them to pass the message to Simon.

I grab my coat, knit hat (made by Lady Ruth) and scarf (gifted by Ms. Snow) and I head towards the underground. Fiona knows that I’m coming. She told me that she needed to ask me something important and that it needed to be in private.

I ride the tube and it’s crowded with tourists. Everyone wants to explore London in December. Not me, though. I don’t miss England at all, but Simon and I have family here so it’s expected to come home for the holidays. I’m already dreading Christmas Day. Fiona and I will have to go up to Oxford to have a nice Christmas with my parents.

Well, it can’t be worse than last year, when I took Simon with me. I told my parents that I was seeing someone in December 2016, because I had to explain why I wanted to stay in Salò for Christmas. Besides, Ms. Snow and Simon weren’t known to the World of Mages yet. The Mage hadn’t been declared dead back then.

But by the time the next Christmas happened, Ms. Snow had reconnected with the World of Mages and we decided to show Simon England. We spent Christmas Day at Oxford and Boxing Day at London with the Salisburys.

Christmas Day. What a disaster. My father was clearly uncomfortable with Simon being there, Daphne was overly polite, trying not to look homophobic as usual, but she still insisted on calling Simon ‘my friend’, and Fiona, in her drunken state, suggested that we have sex in my parents’ bed as payback. (It was tempting, but we didn’t do it.). I thought my father had no more influence on me, but the discomfort was too much. I barely acknowledged Simon out of fear for my father’s reaction. It was a mess.

At least my siblings adore Simon, especially the twins. And Simon bonded with Mordelia over something called a Winx Club.

Simon’s family and my family finally came together last summer, when everyone visited Salò. They were all invited for a big lunch at Ms. Snow’s house and of course everyone recognised each other. The Salisburys already knew me, but the Pitches didn’t know that Simon was the son of the recently returned Lucy Salisbury. (Or Lucy Snow. She goes by Lucy Snow now.)

That made it more bearable. Daphne actually calls Simon my boyfriend now. I think my parents were ashamed to be in bad standing with the well-liked and noble Salisbury family. Still, my father isn’t happy.

Ms. Snow’s return to the World of Mages was big news and the fact that she has a son with The Mage was even bigger news. We keep Simon out of the spotlight, at his request, but everyone knows that he exists.

The three of us came up with a cover story for why Simon’s a Normal. We don’t want to tell people the truth. Instead we came up with the lie that Ms. Snow had to flee from The Mage because he did not tolerate his son being a Normal. Yes, The Mage has always been an advocate for low-powered mages, but those are still mages. So Ms. Snow left and Simon grew up in Italy and at a certain age, his mum told him about magic.

Over time, we’ve told some people the truth. Lady Ruth, Jamie, Martin and Mitali Bunce, Agatha, Penelope and Shepard all know and they’ve all sworn secrecy. Literally. With magic.

I am never going to tell my parents. They would love to dance on The Mage’s grave, but I am never going to tell the truth. Honestly, I think we’ve told everyone who deserves to know.

The train stops at the right station and I mind the gap, please when I step on the platform. The walk to Fiona’s flat is short. I have a key so I don’t have to ring the bell. When the lift arrives on her floor, I feel it.

Something’s wrong.

A vampire.

I rush towards her door and I hear a scream coming from behind. I take my wand and the door opens for me when I reach for the handle. I barge in, ready to kill whatever vampire that’s attacking my aunt, and that’s when I see it.

Stevie Nicks and fucking Slick. I stare at my aunt and the man on top of her for a few second before my mind fully registers what I am seeing. When it does, I recoil in horror and I immediately cover my eyes. I didn’t want to see that much of my aunt, thank you very much.

“Basilton!” Fiona scream out. I hear a thud and some other noises, but I don’t want to uncover my eyes until she’s put on some pants. The same goes for the man who was on top of her.

The man, who is definitely a vampire.

I recognise vampires immediately. He’s definitely one of them. At least he wasn’t murdering my aunt. On the contrary, my aunt seemed very happy. (I now realise that she was screaming out of pleasure, not pain.) (Merlin, why am I here?)

“What are you doing here?” Fiona asks at that exact moment.

“You told me to come over,” I tell her.

“I didn’t expect you to get here to early!”

“It’s four in the afternoon, Fiona. I can’t call that early!” I let out an exasperated sigh, “Are you decent? Can I open my eyes?”

Although I will probably never unsee what I just saw. Great.

“Yes, yes, we’re decent!”

I open my eyes. Decent is an overstatement, since my aunt is still buttoning up her blouse, her hair is a mess, and her lipstick is smeared, but at least she’s wearing clothes. I give her a quick look before turning to the vampire.

He looks dreadful and not because he’s a vampire or because he also looks undone, but because he has an incredibly unpleasant face. Handsome in an angry way. Like the lead singer of a band who resents how popular his music is with teenage girls. The best I can come up with is that he looks like a sleazy Kurt Cobain, but that would be offensive towards Kurt Cobain.

He looks at me and I know he recognises me as a vampire as well.

“Baz,” Fiona says, “Meet Nicodemus Petty. Nico, meet my nephew, Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

--

SIMON

Do you know how wonderful it is to have someone in the family who’s as passionate about butter as you are?

My mum’s culinary skills are questionable, but according to my grandma, so were my granddad’s. It’s sometimes still weird to think that I have grandparents now. Anyway, my mum probably inherited her lack of culinary skills from my granddad, but love for food is still part of our blood and I am very happy.

My grandma and I are making cakes for all of our loved ones and friends. Yes, I have friends now. My mum’s best friend’s daughter and son-in-law, to be more precise. I met them last year, after Christmas. My mum, Baz and I were going home to Italy for New Year’s, but before we went home, my mum’s best friend invited us over for dinner.

(Well, she invited me and my mum. I just dragged Baz along.)

That’s where I met Penny and Shepard. Apparently, Penny and Baz went to school together and they were academic rivals. Penny was very confused to hear that Baz hadn’t started university yet, since she dove headfirst into the academic world and she’s on the Coven. She’s very ambitious. Baz has started university by now. He’s doing distance learning, since he’s enrolled at the London School of Economic, doing a bachelor in Language, Culture and Society, but he’s living in Salò with me.

Penny met Shepard around the same time that I met Baz. Penny had gone to America to be with her then-boyfriend, only to get dumped in a humiliating way. But she met Shepard, who’s Normal.

Apparently, that really shook the Bunce family. The Bunces aren’t an Old Family, like Baz’s, but they had some sort of magickal elitism of their own, so when Penny came home with a Normal, her mother threw a fit.

(And a demon was involved at some point, but you know what, I can’t keep up with all of their stories.)

Turns out that my mum was the one that thawed Mitali Bunce’s cold attitude towards Shepard. When my mum reconnected with her, she mentioned that she has a Normal son. (Me. I am the Normal son.). At that point, Penny and Shepard had eloped (for visa reasons, but also for romantic reasons), and Mrs. Bunce welcomed them back into the family and they had a small wedding reception.

And now, Shepard Bunce and I are best friends.

So I am making him an American butter cake, since he is American after all. (I considered making a Sheperd’s Pie until I learnt that it isn’t an actual pie.)

“Looking good, lad,” my grandma says when she peeks inside the oven.

“Thanks, gran,” I say and I grin. I still grin every time I call her gran. “I think it’s almost ready.”

Two hours later, I am standing in front of Penny and Shepard’s flat. They live close to my grandma.

Shepard opens the door and he smiles widely when he sees that I am holding a cake box.

“Knee!” he shouts over his shoulder, “Knee, Simon is here and he’s brought cake!”

(Knee is short for Penelopknee. Apparently, Shepard once called her that by accident, since he thinks Penny’s knees are very cute, and it sticked.)

I follow Shepard inside and I see Penny, who’s decorating the Christmas tree.

“Ah, Simon!” she says when she sees me, “Good to see you! Where’s Baz?”

“He’s still at his aunt,” I say. In fact, it looks like Fiona’s holding him up. “He’ll be here soon, I hope. Otherwise he misses out on cake. Am I the first?”

Penny nods. “Agatha just texted me. She’s running a bit late.”

“Baz will be happy to see her,” I say. Baz often laments that he misses Agatha. Now that I also have a best friend who lives in a different country, I can understand. Shepard and I are only one hour apart, but it’s different for Baz and Agatha.

Now that I think of it, Baz is also running late. He left hours ago. I wonder what is happening at his aunt’s house.

--

BAZ

I spend at least an hour freaking out and hurling insults towards the both of them.

“This is what you wanted to tell me?” I scream out, “You could’ve just told me that you’re dating a vampire instead of waiting for me to see how you get railed!”

I am absolutely hysterical. I don’t know what’s worse: learning that my aunt is with a vampire or walking in on her having sex with a vampire. Both, honestly. Both are equally terrible.

“How do you even know a vampire?” I say and I point my wand towards Nicodemus, “How do I know that he’s not thralling you?”

“Baz,” Fiona lowers my wand, “You are a vampire.”

“Yes, but I am your nephew!” I exclaim.

“I should make some tea. Anyone wants a cuppa?” Nicodemus says loudly. He doesn’t wait for an answer. He probably doesn’t want to get caught between us.

(Also, I could go for some tea. I’m back in England and it’s fucking cold.)

“Baz, let me explain,” she says. She puts her hands on my shoulders to calm me down. She used to do that when I was younger and I hate how it still works. When I’m feeling somewhat calm, I almost sit down next to her on her sofa, but then I remember that my aunt just had sex on it, and I prefer to stand.

“Explain, then.”

“Nico used to be a mage.”

That shuts me up pretty quickly. I blink in shock. Used to be a mage?

Fiona also looks bitter when she says it. “Nico and I went to school together. The two of us were stupid as shit, but Nico’s sister Ebb grounded us. The three of us were the best of friends and we took a piss at everything. Your mother was headmistress back then and she hated that I wasn’t taking my education seriously, but I wanted to have fun. Nico, Ebb and I had fun. And I loved Nico, even back then.”

I need to sit down. I have a bad feeling about this. I still refuse to sit on that sofa, but I pull out a chair.

“But Nico… he wanted to live forever. He left our world, Baz. He crossed over. He willingly let himself get Turned. As punishment, his wand was snapped and he was stricken from the Book.”

I feel sick. A mage willingly got Turned? Getting Turned is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. The vampires that killed my mother also killed me that day. But this Nicodemus Petty volunteers?

Fiona gives me a sad smile.

“I know. I was hurt and betrayed by his actions as well. He tried to take us with him. Me and Ebb. Your mother stopped both of us, in her own way. I didn’t want to get Turned, because I knew that Natasha would kill me for it-”

I suck in a breath. I know that my mother wouldn’t have let me live as I am. I know she got bitten that day and that she killed herself. I had to read it in the Magickal Record when I was still at Watford.

Fiona doesn’t notice, she’s too caught up in her story.

“- and Natasha gave Ebb a job at Watford. Ebb never wanted to leave and your mother make sure that she didn’t have to.”

I remember Ebb. She’s the goatherd. I never spoke to her.

“But a year ago, Nico came back for me. No one can know about it. It’s forbidden to even speak to vampires.” Fiona looks up at me and she gives me a cheeky grin. Yes, I am a vampire, but no one has to know. No one does, except for my parents, Fiona, Simon and Ms. Snow. “So we’ve been seeing each other in secret.”

“Why the fuck are you telling me this?” I bite out. If it has to be a secret, then why am I now part of it? Merlin, can I ask her to spell me stupid. I hope she erases the image of her and Nico having sex in the process.

“This wasn’t what I wanted to tell you, but I also didn’t expect you to get here so early.”

“I have to be at the Bunces later today for a Christmas party. What did you expect?” I tell her, “Wellbelove is coming. What is it that you want to ask me?”

Fiona quickly looks at the kitchen. Then she takes out a wand and she casts a silencing spell around us. Even so, she leans closer.

“Where’s your mother’s sapphire wedding ring?”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

--

End notes: The endearment Penelopknee is a reference to The Mirror Pair by facewithoutheart.