#smells of their sheep constantly btw

[puphoods]

im going to describe the other two aswell but also putting it in the tags

[adamarks]

simon snow has fucking dragon powers or some shit and this is my goddamn proof

Whilst you people were having a meltdown over Baz and Simon not hashing it out (Simon’s not in a place of understanding his self worth enough for that yet.), I was having a meltdown about Simon Snow The Literal Fucking Dragon. 

Now, this is obviously going to have major spoilers for Wayward Son. I’m going to assume you’ve read it if you’re reading this. I’ve put a lot of thought into this theory and this is a long ass post so I’m putting it under the cut. Now. Let’s go, lesbians!

First and foremost, let’s start with the wings and tail. 

Simon’s wings are established at the very beginning of Wayward Son to represent something. We don’t really get to quite know what that something is until they start referring to Simon’s wings the same way they used to refer to his magic. 

The most direct reference to Simon’s wings symbolizing his magic is in Simon’s section of the prologue at the very end of the book:

“It’s time for me to stop pretending I’m some sort of superhero. I was that-- I really was-- but I’m not anymore. I don’t belong in the same world as sorcerers and vampires. That’s not my story.

Dr. Wellbelove said he could remove the wings. And the tail. Whenever I’m ready. I could go back to school then, or get a job...”

This section directly confirms that yes, these wings are a metaphor for Simon’s magic. They’re all he has left connect him to the world of magic. They’re the only thing still making him feel even remotely on the same level as Baz and Penelope. (This book really was all about the concept of self-worth and how completely lacking it affects not only us but those we love. Phew, talk about a doozy. No wonder we’re all crying.)

Now that we’ve established that Simon’s wings, at the very least, are his one tether to magic, let’s drive the nail into the coffin of the wings and tail being absolutely, 100% symbolic of his magic. 

As I mentioned earlier, the book starts treating the wings exactly the same as it treated his magic. This even starts before Wayward Son. The first mention of Simon’s emotions relating to his wings and tail is in the first book. In the epilogue, in Baz’s section, during the dance scene. 

“His tail whips out of my hand. It tends to slash around when he’s upset.”

This really starts to come out in the last fourth of Wayward when he’s “itching for a fight.”

His wings constantly poke, prod, and generally annoy Baz and Penny because he refuses to put them away. Almost.... like... how his magic..... felt suffocating.... and too much... and he couldn’t push it back... or tamp it down. *cough*

Okay, so that was all pretty basic, boring, base-building stuff, yeah?  Pretty “whatever we get it.” 

Well, here’s where it starts to get fun. 

Let’s talk about Simon’s Mirrors.

Lemme just explain what the hell a mirror is, first. In case we all flunked our high school Lit classes. 

A mirror character is, in simple terms, a character that acts, looks like, or reminds you of one of the main characters. Through these “mirror characters” some important information about the main character is revealed to us subtextually. 

Let’s name our Simon mirrors:

Ebb 

Agatha (she’s being developed as her own character but that’s not stopping her from mirroring our good lad.)

Aunt Fiona (to some extent anyway. she doesn’t really factor here.) 

There might be some minor ones I’m forgetting (I’m not including foils) but these are our main guys. 

I put Ebb on the list first, but let’s start with Agatha, the cranky heroine of our dreams. 

Throughout the whole first book, Agatha is shown to be Simon’s mirror. Them both mooning over Baz in almost the exact same way. (Jesus Christ they’re embarrassing to watch.) The waiting on rooftops, the handkerchief. (Don’t get me started on Simon carrying around Baz’s scarf in Wayward. I’m soft and everything hurts. Our poor, stupid, stupid boys.) It’s not exactly subtle. 

In Carry On, Agatha reveals just how much Simon also resents his fate. He never really expresses it, but Agatha is reflecting to us how he’s feeling. They both get progressively less resigned to the bullshit “Chosen One” fate as the book goes on. They both make it out alive. Maybe everything will be okay. 

But then Rainbow rolls up with a Sex On The Beach and Gucci sunglasses to tell us that “fuck no everything’s not okay.” (She’s right. God, I could go on a rant about how no one ever talks about how you feel when you’ve defeated the villain. When you’ve escaped the dungeon. Hhhhh)

Wayward Son immediately sets Agatha up as even more of a mirror than she was in the first book. We’re shown right away that the two of them are both in a depressed funk. They’re both at “15%” and miserable. These two are echoing each other like NEVER before and I am LIVING for it. 

Like, we even get this amazing bit in Chapter Four:

“That would feel like an answer to... the question of me. Then I could say, ‘Oh, that’s who I am. That’s why I’ve been so confused.’”

They! Are! Struggling!

Now, how does this relate to Simon having literal fucking dragon powers? Good question, thank you for asking. 

In Chapter Fifty-Six, when Pen and Agatha are stuck in the back of Fuckwad Vampire #3′s car, Agatha says this:

“I honestly thought I could walk away from it all-- like magic was a place. Like magic was a person. Or a habit I could break.

When Simon first came to Watford, he couldn’t make his wand work. He could barely cast a spell. He thought they were going to kick him out, that he wasn’t magic enough. 

“You don’t do magic,” Penelope told him. “You are magic.”

I... am magic. 

Whether I like it or not, whether or not I claim it. Whether or not I carry my wand. 

It’s in me, somehow. Blood, water, bone.”

They!! Are!! Both!! Magic!! 

Magic is in them! Magic is with them! They’re made of the stuff! They can’t cut off this part of them, no matter how much they want to. (lmao. talk about good old internalized homophobia. I don’t really have an opinion on what Agatha’s sexuality is, btw. I’m using homophobia as a blanket term because I have no clue what’s up on that front.)

Simon is made of magic. He doesn’t want to remove his wings. Even though he has to hide them. Even though he thinks he’s a Normal now. Like Penny said, “an aeroplane is still an aeroplane even if it’s on the ground.” (I’m not sure that’s verbatim, apologies.)

Simon still has magic. We just can’t see it. He’s made of magic. He is magic. He was literally conceived during a spell. Bitch is as magical as you can get. 

But where is the magic???? Where’d it go???? Hello????

I’m getting there. I promise. First, we need to talk about Ebb. 

Ebb wasn’t only Simon’s weird Aunt figure; she was his mirror. Ebb was what would’ve happened to Simon if he hadn’t rejected the mage at the end of Carry On. Ebb just gave in. She didn’t want to fight anymore, and she figured Shithead The Great knew more than she did. 

God I just fucking hate Mage so much like holy shit. Anyway, anyway. 

Ebb was the strongest magician next to Simon. She didn’t want to fight. She didn’t want to use her magic for any great purpose. She just wanted to be. Agatha even reiterates this in the epilogue of Carry On.

 “Like, they couldn’t just let her be.”

(No, Simon doesn’t miss killing things in Wayward. He misses excitement and having a purpose. He mainly misses having a purpose. Not having one of those fucking sucks.)

What the fuck does Ebb have to do with this? Why can’t I just get to the point?

My point is!

My Point IS!

That goddamn dragon with the sheep was supposed to remind you of Ebb.

So, let’s do the math. If 1=1x1= 1 then...

Ebb = Margaret = Simon

Sure, sure we had Simon screeching that he wasn’t a dragon. But Margaret was immediately like, 

“Not yet.” She pets his wing. “Are kitten. Someday dragon. Someday ferocious.”

Simon smells like a dragon, but also apparently “smells like iron.” Whatever the fuck that means. I mean I guess it means that Baz could still sippy sippy. (Which is gonna happen or I’ll eat my own toe.) 

One more thing: 

“I wanted wings,” he says. “I wanted to fly.”

“Why tail?”

“I wanted to be free!”

Gee, that sure sounds like what Agatha was saying earlier, huh?

YEAH OKAY HE’S HALF DRAGON!! WE’VE ESTABLISHED THAT!!! WHAT THE FUCK AM I ON ABOUT!!!!

Omg thank you for asking. I’m going to blow your mind with my final point. 

The Final Point: The Baz Problem.

Wayward Son is, by all accounts, Baz’s book. It develops everyone beautifully and everyone has an arc, but this book is where Baz gets to shine. 

We found out in this book that vampires are immortal.

This introduced a whole new issue, an issue that surfaces every time immortality is introduced as a possibility for one character but not the rest. 

Someday, Baz will be left alone.

He’ll inevitably outlive everyone he cares about. We all know our poor, beautiful, delicate bastard boy couldn’t take it. How deeply he cares is his most beautiful and wonderful trait, and this could break him. 

I wonder, how long does a dragon live?

Penny talks about the improbability of Simon and Baz in Chapter Three. 

“Star-cross’d lovers. ‘From forth the fatal loins of these two foes.’ The whole shebang.”

Simon’s magic was always described as smoke and fire. The first creature we learn about Simon fighting was a dragon. (Chapter 1, first page of Carry On)

“You’ve slain a dragon, Simon. Surely you can manage a long walk and a few buses.”

 God, I just really hate Bitchface the Mage. Anywho.

Simon. The One Who Came to End Us. Simon. The One To Save Us All. Simon is the dragon and the knight. He’s his own worst enemy. His arc will be completed once he accepts the “dragon” part of himself. It’s poetic as fuck, I must admit. 

Simon has to find love and care for himself, and then this baby dragon will be grown. He’ll be “on top” as Margaret had said. (God, could you imagine all the dragons waking up? How fucking epic would THAT be? Fingers crossed.)

The monster that drains living things and the monster that burns all in its wake. These losers are starcrossed, but they complete each other. Dumbasses. I just love them so much why can’t they get their shit together. 

Simon and Baz’s storylines are utterly intertwined. They’re perfectly matched. Simon might not know it, but their hearts are already tied together; they beat in sync. They’re two stars orbiting each other. And, if we’re all very lucky, maybe they won’t crash. Maybe this story won’t end in flames. 

So, in conclusion, I really really really want Simon to breathe fire. The only other way I could see this twisting is the wings somehow going away and Simon getting a regular-magician amount of magic. That’s kinda lame tho and doesn’t complete his arc correctly. This dumb boy is a dragon now and there’s nothing we can do about it. (EDIT: actually yeah simon’s not gonna lose his wings no way in fuck. check out my meta.)  Also? I would sell my soul to see Simon getting really possessive over really weird objects for his hoard. 

Thank you for sticking with me this far, dear reader. I’ll leave you with this thought: Baz is Donkey and Simon is the dragon from Shrek. 

Check out my other meta on the future of simon and baz’s relationship and how penny and agatha relate 

scarf meta as well check it

Gonna be tagging peeps so this can circulate better. 

@carrybits @neck-mole @watfordwallflower

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Books and Answers

Masterpost (makes this easier, this is chapter 25 btw), Ao3

Word count: 2842

Warnings: stuff from the last chapter mentioned, implied past trauma and flashback, hostage situation, syringes, implied human experiments

Logan woke up to a splitting headache.

He blinked and the light falling past the curtains burned in his eyes.

He winced and it took him another few minutes to be able to open his eyes.

A glass of water stood on his bedside table, together with a small pill. He reached out slowly and drank almost the entire glass before he took the pill and drank the rest.

Virgil must've left it out for him-

Virgil.

Logan shot up almost falling over from a wave of dizziness.

He had strangled Virgil.

There was no body on the floor.

So he at least hadn't killed him.

He had strangled his son.

Fuck.

Logan ran out into the hallway and turned around himself once before rushing to Virgil's room.

"Virgil?!" his own voice made his headache spike.

The room was empty. The bed as unmade as ever, the skulls neatly on their shelves, drawings and posters on the walls.

Logan nearly fell down the stairs and burst into the empty kitchen, went on into the living room and ran back up the stairs.

"Virgl? Are you here?"

He ripped open the bathroom door and stopped.

The sink was covered in tiny bits of dark purple hair. A carton was visible in the trash can.

Logan grabbed it and pulled it out.

Purple hairdye.

Had Virgil dyed his hair?

But where was he now?

There was no blood anywhere so at least Virgil hadn't cut again.

But he was still gone.

Logan realised a few minutes later that his shoes were gone and dialled Emile's number. Maybe Virgil had gone to Emile and Remy. They were like uncles to him after all.

---

Janus woke up slowly.

They were cuddling someone and opened their eyes to figure out who the actual fuck was in their bed.

Oh, right. Virgil had come over last night.

He looked different.

His hair had been shoulder-length for years now but he'd shaved most of it, leaving him with an undercut and purple hair at the top of his head. There were no tear tracks left on his face and the bags under his eyes were as dark as ever, making Janus wonder how long he'd gone without sleep this time. They glanced at their alarm clock. It'd ring in a minute.

They waited, watching the long thin second's finger move steadily until it reached the 12 again and the minute finger moved to quarter past.

A shrill noise cut through the room and Janus reached out over Virgil and turned it off.

"What-?" Virgil squinted and pat against their arm as if trying to find out what it was in his halfawake state.

"Morning," Janus greeted him. "Are you okay?"

Virgil stared at them for a moment before shrugging. After the way, he'd shown up Janus wasn't sure if they could expect much better.

"What day is it?" Virgil asked.

"Don't fucking know," Janus chuckled.

They grabbed their phone and unlocked it.

"We're lucky," they said. "It's Saturday. We don't have school today."

"Thank fucking god."

Janus contemplated for a moment before speaking up again.

"Can I ask what happened yesterday?" they finally asked. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Virgil looked away from them.

"Maybe... Maybe later but I don't think," he shook his head. "Not now."

"Okay," Janus nodded and got up, grabbing a shirt they had felt on the back of their desk chair. "Are you hungry? Mum bought some new cereal yesterday."

"A bit... Won't your parents ask why I'm suddenly here? Or who I am?"

Janus hesitated.

Right, neither Mum nor Luan had ever met Virgil in all the years they'd been friends. Even when they'd talked about him they had never actually used a name. They'd only ever called him 'a friend' or similar titles. Then again, both Mum and Luan tended to go to bed as early as possible to catch as much sleep as possible, since they had to get up early. Even while still looking for work Mum tended to be busy for the entire day and stood up with Luan. So, it wouldn't sound too weird if Janus just said that Virgil had come by after they had gone to bed. They'd just have to leave out the fact that it had been like three am and that Virgil had climbed in through the window and cried.

"I'll handle it," they said. "Don't worry. I'm an excellent liar."

The two of them left the small room and made their way through the apartment, Virgil's eyes scanning everything they passed as if he was looking for hidden clues to a puzzle only he knew about. Janus knew the feeling. It was how they constantly felt around Virgil.

The smell of coffee greeted them as they entered the kitchen.

"Morning," Luan mumbled and took a sip of his big 'Good Morning' mug. It had a jawning cartoon sheep under the phrase and had been his favourite ever since Mum had given it to him for Valentines Day six years ago.

He did a double-take and rubbed over his eyes as if to check he wasn't seeing things before staring at Virgil, looking vaguely confused.

"I could've sworn there was only one teenager in this household," he muttered into his coffee before calling towards the bedroom. "Babe? Did you have another child while I was at work?"

"What?" Mum called back her footsteps came closer and she stopped in the door to the living room.

"This is my friend, Virgil," Janus introduced quickly. "He came over after you two went to bed last night."

"Just some stress at home," Virgil mumbled and shrugged awkwardly.

"Oh," Luan nodded. "That makes a lot more sense. I need more caffeine."

"Nice to meet you, Virgil," Mum took her own steaming mug from the counter. "Do either of you want any coffee?"

"Not today, thanks," Janus got out two bowls for cereal while Virgil just shook his head.

---

Patton turned on the speakers he hadn't needed in months as soon as he got down into the shop.

The calming music filled the shop and he let himself just listen and breath for a few minutes.

He knew exactly what had triggered the night terror. He had almost expected it even.

He really had to start turning off the news as soon as they talked about any sort of science involving labs and experiments.

Patton gently caressed the petals of a full red rose. He'd take it slow today. Give himself the time he needed to fully believe that he was safe, that they couldn't and wouldn't hunt him down and drag him back there.

He was fine, he reminded himself, taking a sip of his rose tea.

About an hour after opening the bell over the door rung for the first time.

"Good morning- Logan!" he felt his heart leap at the sight of Logan. it had been almost a month and he'd missed him far more than he'd expected to.

"Hello, Patton," Logan smiled at him. He looked tired and a few strands of hair hung into his face. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good," Patton smiled back at him. "Is something wrong?"

He reached out with his powers and felt Logan's distress, panic and soul-crushing guilt. He could guess that something bad had happened but it was hard to tell where the emotions came from through the chaos they had created in Logan.

"I- Uhm... I made a mistake," Logan said. "Have you seen Virgil by any chance? He won't answer his phone and no one I asked so far saw him."

"No, I haven't," Patton frowned. "What happened?"

"I did something... bad and he ran away last night. And I understand that he doesn't want to see me right now but I just have to make sure that he's alright."

"Okay," Patton said. "Well, as I said, I didn't see him but if I do I'll tell you. And I'll check if he's alright."

Logan gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Patton. It means a lot."

For a moment they stood in silence.

Patton wasn't sure what to say.

Part of him wanted to apologize for the kiss but he wasn't sure if he really should.

"I'm sorry I didn't contact you after our date," Logan said suddenly. "I didn't mean to ghost you like that."

"Oh, it's fine. But... could I maybe have your number?"

"Of course," Logan pat down his pockets. "I... forgot my phone at home."

Patton chuckled.

"Don't worry, I have a pen," he grabbed it from under the counter and took Logan's hand. He wrote down his mobile number and handed Logan the pen, offering his own hand.

Logan took it so gently as if he was afraid of breaking Patton.

Slowly he wrote down his number and it tickled slightly.

Then he put the pen down again.

"I have to go now but... I'd like to go out for coffee again. Or maybe something similar. It was nice."

Patton nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I'd like that. I hope you find Virgil. Like I said, if I see him I'll make sure he's okay and tell you."

"Thank you. And if you do and he doesn't want to see me...  can you please tell him that I'm so, so sorry. He doesn't have to forgive me but I just want him to know that."

"Okay," Patton nodded. "Will do. I hope I'll see you soon."

Logan gave him one last tired smile before turning and leaving the shop again.

Patton watched him go and reached out with his powers again.

Logan was still upset, worried and guilty but the panic had lessened ever so slightly. Considering the situation Patton counted that as a small win. He hoped he'd get a chance to talk to Virgil.

Part of him wanted to know what had happened, the other part wasn't sure if it was his place to know. He wasn't a part of their family and this clearly was a thing between the two of them but he also wanted to help. Not only because he cared about Logan but also because he was worried about Virgil, running around somewhere in these streets, probably just as upset as Logan - if not more - and maybe making bad decisions.

He smelled at his tea and enjoyed the warmth on his face for a moment.

For the following hours, nothing much happened, a few customers, a small chat with Ms Cho and nearly two pots of tea.

Patton closed the shop a little earlier than usual and moved up to his apartment to wrap himself up in his blanket and watch Cartoons.

He turned on the TV and lazily flicked through the channels. Some documentary, a Cartoon for toddlers - not really the kind he wanted to see, a reality show, a cooking show where Gordon Ramsay was yelling at some poor guy about carrots, the news -

Patton stopped as the sight on the monitor behind the moderator registered and turned up the volume.

"- according to the authorities there are seven hostages in the building. The Professor hasn't made any demands for their release so far. We'll keep you posted as soon as anything happens."

Patton's stomach dropped.

Seven hostages.

He couldn't stand by and do nothing. Logic was his opponent, it was his duty to fight him and free those poor people from his captivity. He downed the last bit of his tea and stood up to get dressed.

Damn Logic.

While he put on his armour, hoodie and boots one thought wouldn't leave him alone.

This wasn't Logic's style at all.

Hostage situations were something he expected from Psyche, maybe sometimes from Sleep or gangs, but not from Logic. Something was off with it.

He pushed the thought aside and climbed out of the window, only turning on the LEDs in the heart on his chest when he was a few buildings away from his apartment.

It took him fifteen minutes to reach the library Professor Logic had taken over.

Police were surrounding the building and one of them was trying to get Logic's attention.

Patton landed next to him and the man stopped, putting down the megaphone.

"I'll try to get in through the roof and get the hostages to safety," Patton told him. "Try to keep him distracted.

"Be careful," the policeman frowned.

"Will do."

He scaled the side of the building and looked around on the roof for an entrance.

He quickly found a small window which he managed to slip through and found himself in a dusty attic, full of old books. He sneezed and froze, listening for footsteps.

Silence.

Good.

That meant nobody had heard him.

Slowly Patton snuck towards the stairs and down into the highest floor of the library. and looked down through the balcony like opening down all the way.

The hostages were on the lowest floor, huddled together, but he couldn't see Logic anywhere. Maybe he was finally talking to the police now.

Patton snuck down the stairs, listening for anything suspicious all the while.

On the second floor, he hesitated again, just to make sure that Logic was nowhere near the hostages.

There were four college students, whispering among each other, a woman holding her baby close and rocking back and forth, a man nervously biting at his nails and a couple holding onto each other tightly. They glanced into different directions from time to time as if looking for the Professor. So they didn't know where he was either.

Patton stepped back from the railing.

"Hello, Heartrate," a smooth voice behind him made him freeze.

Slowly Patton turned around.

"Hello, Logic."

Professor Logic looked tired, his usually so bright eyes dull and lifeless.

"I'm glad you came here."

Patton blinked in surprise.

"And why is that? Do you want to fight me?"

"No," Logic shook his head. "I don't. I want to ask you something."

"Really? Why I don't approve of you holding these poor people, maybe?" he hissed.

"Oh, them? They can go. I don't care for them. I just want to talk to you."

"Doesn't look like they can go."

"Then tell them," Logic shrugged. "I don't care."

Patton frowned. Logic's emotions seemed to indicate that he was speaking the truth. Slowly he turned around.

"Hey!" he called to get the people's attention. "You can leave! Everything will be alright! Just go outside!"

They seemed to hesitate for a moment before scrambling towards the doors.

Patton watched them go until they were out of sight, just to be sure that they'd be alright. Even if Logic didn't seem to be lying, he couldn't be sure.

"So," Patton turned back around, "what do you want from me?"

Your powers. Are they your fault or someone else's'?"

"What?" Patton asked, taken aback.

The words "None of your business" were at the tip of his tongue. The anxiety from last night was still in his bones and just thinking about it made it tingle all over again. It was none of Logic's business. Patton's trauma wasn't his to know about. The scars on his arms were his own to count and see in the bathroom mirror.

"Are they your fault or someone else's'? If it makes you more comfortable, mine are most definitely my fault."

"What do you mean by that?" Patton's frown deepened.

Had Logic done the kind of experiments to himself that they had done to him?

Patton felt his throat close up, memories he'd tried to bury years ago, flashing through his mind.

Logic frowned.

"Do you... You don't actually know where powers come from?" he asked slowly.

Oh, Patton knew too well where his powers were from. The syringes, tests and transfusions were haunting him.

Logic looked away for a moment.

"Trauma," he suddenly said. "Powers come from trauma. There is a gene few people have that triggers a trauma response, resulting in people developing powers."

Trauma?

It hadn't been the tests?

Or, it had. Just mot in the way Patton had thought for years.

"Mine was my fault thanks to my own bad decisions. Who's fault are your's?"

Patton clenched his teeth, trying to process the new information. If powers stemmed from trauma, that meant all of them were traumatised, right? Not just him but Logic, Sleep and Psyche too. Were they really all just traumatised people fighting each other?

"Someone else's," he said tonelessly.

"Mhm. I see. Can I ask how your powers developed? Did it happen quickly or fast?"

"Why are you asking me these questions? I'm not sure. I think they came slowly. One thing after the other until I just... had them."

"Thank you. I just wanted to know if there was a difference," Logic nodded to himself and turned to leave. "Goodbye."

"Wait! Why did you want to know this?!"

"If strange things happen around town or something, it's my fault. We'll see what kind of powers will be the result."

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake , @isabelle-stars