#snowbaz Drabble

[yeonjunenby]

1st Snowbaz Drabble since writing block started in Nov 2022!

Tags: Alternate Universe, based on (crossover with?) Percy Jackson series, yes this is that horrible gut-wrenching scene, non cis-hets know the one, sad ending, angst, also not betaed lol 

TW: towards the end there are some thoughts from baz that are dark/suicidal so please be safe if needed!

Completed at 956 words, Teens+

Drabble below the cut for space! <3

Lies.

Lying to hide.

Lying to pretend.

Lying to protect.

Lies seem to be all I know. All I can do now. And yet they do me no favours as everyone seems to distance themselves from me. (Though, maybe that is due to other factors. There are plenty to choose from.) I don’t have any friends, anyone close to me. They all seem to be scared of me because of who I am.

I have ignored the stares. Ignored the whispers. But it seems that there is no escape for me now.

There is nowhere I can hide or pretend to protect myself anymore.

Because in order to save the one person that I have ever had any feelings for, I must reveal my secrets. Eros demands it.

Even if it costs me him. No… not if, it will.

Simon Snow, the boy that I hated when he first entered my life but has somehow wormed his way into my heart. No matter that I knew he has been with his girlfriend the entire time. My heart chooses not to obey me. Making its own choices and following its own path. Now it, along with Simon Snow, have ruined me.

And now Eros wants me to announce my secrets, as my personal sacrifice to save Simon. To reveal how pathetic and disgusting I am to the one person that I care would know. I always knew that Eros was a horrid thing, always spouting off about love, affection, and harmony but demanding a “sacrifice in the name of love” in the same sentence.

“Now, Son of Pitch! Reveal your secret! Let me know what your deepest, darkest secret is.” Eros orders, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I grit my teeth, and decide to reveal a secret, a big one to me and hope that it satisfies the god. “I am—” I swallow harshly even though my mouth and throat are dry, “I’m a vampire.” Memories of Simon Snow trying to prove my affliction for years come to the first of my mind, as I wait for his exclaims of enthusiasm for being right all alone.

However, I’m unable to hear it as Eros shouts, “That is not the secret I desire Pitch!”

I look over my shoulder to see Simon Snow. “It’s fine, Baz!” He calls out across the distance separating us. Having no regard for his own safety as he is tied up and immobilised by endless vines and thorns of red roses. (A bit on the nose in my opinion even if it is Eros.) “I already know that you have feelings for Aggie! Just say it; I promise I won’t be mad.” He says like the bumbling fool he is. Of course, I don’t have feelings for Agatha Wellbelove.

“I don’t—” I snap at him, but cut myself off just as quickly.

“Say it. Tell the truth and reveal your secret.” Eros grins wickedly, enjoying every second of this.

I glower at him, but I’m unable to think of any way out of this. I always knew that Simon Snow would be the end of me. I just never thought it would go quite like this. Whatever, it’s not like I expected anything different. I’m an undead vampire in love with my straight enemy. There is no happiness for me; not in my past, my present, or my future. Maybe it would be best to just save Simon’s life. Reveal my secret and then quietly disappear.

I swallow, feeling my throat bob up and down as I gather whatever courage I can scrouge up. “I.. I don’t have feelings for Wellbelove. I never have. Because I’m gay.” I stop abruptly, though I don’t know if it’s because I hope that is enough of my secret for Eros or if I just ran out of courage.

“More.”

“My secret is that I’m in love with Simon Snow!” I yell, trying to keep my voice level and hide my fear and shame at my admission.

“Finally. Good, Son of Pitch.” Eros grin before disappearing before my eyes. I hear some noises behind me but I ignore them as I know that Simon is being free. He will probably just leave me to get back to his perfect golden girlfriend.

“Baz?” He calls out timidly, which just sparks my self loathing even more since he sounds like he is scared of me. When he was running around telling everyone I was a vampire, he wasn’t scared of me, no, but the fact that he knows now that I’m gay and have feelings for him—that is scary to him.

“Leave, Snow.” I growl out.

“Is it true?” He asks, ignoring my plea for mercy to leave me alone to wallow in my despair. As if it isn’t clear that it was the truth with Eros gone and him now free. All thanks to my deepest, darkest, dirtiest secret being exposed to the one person I didn’t want it to. I don’t answer him, but that doesn’t seem to deter him. “Well… um, I don’t know what to say.” He mumbles aloud.

It causes me to straighten out of my crouched position, whirling around on him in a haze of fury. “There is nothing to say! I never wanted you to know!” My voice cracks at the same time something inside of me does. I feel like collapsing into myself. “Just leave me alone, Snow.” I plead, hoping that he listens.

The tears finally start to fall as I hear his footsteps get further and further away.

It’s better this way.

Maybe. Maybe if we were born in another lifetime, maybe things could have turned out differently. But that might just be my broken heart’s hopeful thinking. 

Hope you enjoyed this?? it feels weird to say that since this is hella sad and I despised this scene in the PJ series, but I’m just so happy since this is the first thing i’ve written since my block started!

[facewithoutheart]

I hurt myself thinking of Simon and Baz adopting a kid. Simon’s nervous, maybe it’s sort of spur of the moment. They’ve been planning for awhile (Baz has sooo many books; he’s reading them with Penny whereas Simon likes to sits with Daphne and Lady Ruth to hear their firsthand experience) but when the call comes you’re never prepared. Penny’s got a checklist and she’s calling out items while Simon packs the car. Meanwhile Baz is updating the group chat and yelling, “You don’t need seven sandwiches, Simon! It’s only a thirty minute car ride!” And Simon and Penny echo back, “It’s on the list, Baz!” But they eventually manage to get packed and on the road, waving back at Penny who’s going to the market to pick up essentials on their other checklist.

Simon drives to where they’re meant to pick up their child, steady hands under pressure and all that, and Baz drums his fingers on his thigh until Simon reaches over and threads their hands together. “It’s going to be fine,” he says, and Baz wants to argue that Simon looks like he’s five seconds from shitting his pants. Baz squeezes Simon’s hand instead.

They do eventually make the handover, sign the paperwork, and then it’s the two of them, packing their child into the car seat (Simon wrangles while Baz calls out instructions). “Gentle, gentle!” Baz reminds Simon and Simon wants to bang a fist against his own head in frustration but then he hears that word again. Gentle. And he gives that to himself as well.

It’s a quiet ride home. “Calm before the storm,” Baz jokes, his eyes ever on the precious bundle strapped in behind him, and Simon swallows his lips in a strained smile.

“I’ll take first watch,” Simon says, after they’ve managed food, diapers, and a strangely quiet child given all the change and emotional upheaval circling around them.

There’s something twitchy about Simon’s offer but Baz chalks it up to new fatherhood jitters. He should argue; maybe he should stay up first given his experience babysitting his siblings, but he’s exhausted and sticky. Besides, these days Simon babysits as often as Baz. He trusts Simon, and displaying that trust goes a long way toward Simon feeling it for himself. So he kisses their child on the forehead, then Simon, then his child again, then, “Stop, stop,” Simon laughs, swatting away Baz’s insistent lips, “we’ll be fine. I’ll call you on the monitor if we need anything.”

“Okay,” Baz frowns, and then he subjects his family to another round of kisses, just in case.

It’s three in the morning when Baz hears it: a stifled sob over the monitor, distinctly adult in nature.

Simon.

Baz walks softly to the nursery. He finds Simon in the rocking chair, their child pressed to his bare chest. Tears stream down Simon’s face.

“Love, what’s—”

“I just got her,” Simon says. “Less than twelve hours ago. I just got her.”

Baz reaches out his arms, a move Simon misinterprets. He holds the baby tighter to his chest.

“No, no. Don’t you see? I just got her. And I can’t,” Simon hiccups, “I can’t imagine giving her up.” He looks up at Baz. “I love her. I just got her and I love her and she’s mine and I can’t, I can’t…”

This time, when Baz stretches out his arms Simon moves to give up the baby but Baz clicks his tongue and pulls them both in his arms. “It’s okay, little puff,” he says, kissing Simon’s cheek before the baby’s. “I’ve got you, now.”

[forabeatofadrum]

Spotify wrapped game: snowbaz and #84 👀

Oooooh, Lush Life by Zara Larsson.

I live my day as if it was the last Live my day as if there was no past Doin' it all night, all summer Doin' it the way I wanna Yeah, I'ma dance my heart out 'til the dawn But I won't be done when morning comes Doin' it all night, all summer Gonna spend it like no other

A tricky one, since this definitely seems to be more like “hooray I an single let’s party!”, but the first two lines do make me think about good ole Simon. So here is a little Simon POV. I just [clenches fist] want them to be happy normal boyfriends.

--

I think I deserve to party.

I always think I deserve to party.

I’ve dealt with enough shit to last a lifetime, so now that I am finally doing freat, I deserve to make the best of it. I think a celebration is in order. If you had told me a few years ago that one day I’d be at peace with my lack of magic, that I had a job that I like (forklift certificate, here I come!), and that I was dating the love of my life, I might have laughed.

But it’s real. It’s my life. I am at a place where I can afford to be a normal guy, who goes out drinking with friends, who has a flat in Hackney Wick and who gets invited to parties by Baz’s uni friends. There is no one trying to kill me. There is no constant danger to be fought.

So I am dancing in the club, with Baz. It’s still summer so we have all the time of the world, or so it feels, before Baz’s classes start again. Agatha is swaying next to us, with her arms around Niamh. It’s the first time the four of us are going out together and Niamh said “she knew a place”.

(I didn’t think Niamh would “know places”, but of course she knows the queer spots in London.)

Together with Baz and Agatha, I start exploring these places for the first time and it feels so freeing. I feel so alive. I kiss Baz on the dancefloor and no one bats an eyelash.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” I say. His vampire hearing makes it possible for him to hear me over the music.

“Me too,” he does have to lean closer.

I will definitely come back here. We will definitely come back here. After we’ve scoured all the other places that Niamh can recommend. The four of us party up until 3am or so, but that’s when it’s time for us to go. Mostly because I want to go home. No one minds, especially not Baz, since it means we’ll go home together to the flat in Hackney Wick.

Agatha and Niamh say goodbye, since they’re staying at Niamh’s flat, and Baz and I go back to our flat. Our flat. Still sounds unreal. We don’t take public transport. Instead, Baz just straight up carries me home with his vampire speed and strength. I am definitely not complaining.

“That was fun,” he says, “We should do this more often. Also just the two of us.”

“Yes, yes,” I say happily, “Doing it all night, all summer.”

“Circe, are you quoting that song that was playing?”

“I liked it!”

“Of course you do,” he says fondly.

So this the DJ, because it kept coming back, but I don’t mind.

And maybe partying all night all summer is a bit too much for anyone, but it’s still summer and I can see plenty of more partying with Baz in my future.

[orange-peony]

Thank you so much for tagging me @larkral, @cutestkilla, @artsyunderstudy and @rimeswithpurple.

I've had a really rough week, so words have struggled to come. Here's a snippet from the last chapter of See how it shines:

In the end, it’s Draco who finds out by accident.

Harry’s accidentally left one of his notepads on the sofa, and Draco spots it after lunch. It’s lying face-down on a cushion, abandoned mid-sentence when the doorbell rang and Harry jumped up to open it and welcome his boyfriend with a smile.

When Draco lifts it up to move it aside, his eyes land on Harry’s unruly handwriting and widen. Draco’s eyebrows lift then knit in confusion as grey eyes move on the page. He probably recognised the protagonist’s name. Harry feels his palms getting clammy, his heart racing. He could just ask Draco to leave it. He could snatch the notepad back or summon it with his wand and then come up with an excuse.

“Harry, what is—”

“I’m a writer,” Harry blurts out, instead.

I've also started a little snowbaz drabble for a prompt:

“Baz, you’re needed in room three,” Niall says, looking like he hasn’t slept in two days (he probably hasn’t). “Your boyfriend managed to get another injury for the sole purpose of coming to snog you.”

“Snow is not my boyfriend!” I reply for the umpteenth time, but my legs are already moving faster than I thought my tiredness would allow.

What the fuck has he done this time?

Tagging (and apologies if you've already done it): @pato-roldnart, @bubble-gumhead @j-nipper-95​, @martsonmars, @hushed-chorus, @rimeswithpurple (happy belated birthday!) @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @thewholelemon , @letraspal, @crazybutgood, @okay-sky, @littlewinnow, @fatalfangirl, @cutestkilla, @facewithoutheart, @imagineacoolusername, @blackberrysummerblog, @tea-brigade, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @ebbpettier, @captain-aralias @alexalexinii, @regretfulcorrine, @leithillustration, @vukovich and @peachpety.​

[babygirlwolverine]

pinned post/about me <3

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names and pronouns:

bex 💜 | jasmine 🩷 | sapphire 💙 (she/her)

oliver 🧡 | baz ❤️ | sebastian 💚 (he/him)

riley 💛 | logan 🤍 (she/he girlboy name)

dr. sexy | starry | bubbles (she/her or he/him)

tracks: #deancaskiss

cas-coded cas girl

ao3

backup blog: @angelcaswinchester

28, bi and asexual

just your local small animal/exotic veterinarian!

~ coastal cowboy, disney adult, shark lover, dan + shay fan, coca cola obsessed, jeep girl

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~ veterinarian sideblog @drsexydvm

~ taylor swift sideblog (for my girl) @downbadwakingupinblood

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[brilla-brilla-estrellita]

Ten Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tag @shrekgogurt! I'm missing these on my dash, apparently, becuase I've only seen yours and one other! I'll have to go search for everyone else's.

How many works do you have on AO3? 3 (technically 4 but we orphaned one of them out of shame)

What’s your total AO3 word count? 19,544

What fandoms do you write for? I guess technically the answer is Simon Snow and Heartstopper, but the Heartstopper stuff is also crossed over with Simon Snow, so.... I also have a collection of Harry Potter drabbles from high school (and I think even one from a few years ago???) in my phone that will never see the light of day.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes! Because they're so nice and lovely and someon took the time to write to me, so I want to write back, but then sometimes idk what to say other than "thank you!" so I second guess myself and put off responding for a while and then one day I go "OH SHIT I never responded to that one???" and I go back and I just post the "thank you!" I'm a mess.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Nope

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! With one person (my best friend), and it's definitely the best thing I've written. I think I'd probably do really well collaborating with more people, but I'm still so scared to show people my work, especially my in-progress work! I need to leave the comfort zone, but also... that's hard.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? SnowBaz SnowBaz SnowBaz!

What are your writing strengths? Right now, I'm not feeling like I have any writing strengths. I am at an all-time-low in confidence these days, including creative writing. All that being said, I enjoy dialogue and find it comes most easily, so I think dialogue is probably my biggest strength? Even when I was starting to like what I was writing, I didn't feel like I had any strengths other than dialogue. Like I said, I'm a mess.

What are your writing weaknesses? Descrtiption is rough. And I have a hard time writing like... soft physical touch? At least if I know someone else is going to see it. Doesn't even have to be erotic in any way, just regular ol' sweet kisses and hugs and idk whatever other touches. I'm a very touch-positive person in real life, but writing it just feels awkward. And I think it does have more to do with whether someone will be reading it or not, so maybe goes back to the confidence issue. Maybe I should bring this up with my therapist...

First fandom you wrote for? Harry Potter, but the first fandom I published for was Simon Snow.

Tagging: @bookish-bogwitch @onepintobean @technetiumai @martsonmars @cutestkilla

@fatalfangirl @ileadacharmedlife @moodandmist @thewholelemon @mooncello

@theearlgreymage

[talentpiper11]

WIP Wednesday

Hey all! Thanks to @monbons and @rimeswithpurple for the tags :)

I'm still working away at the SnowBaz soulmate AU— it's taking me a while because this is the first fic I've written in the first person (and it does NOT come easily to me. Gah.) The observant among you probably noticed that the little Simon-centric drabble I wrote the other night (find that here) was written in the third person, because that just flows so much more smoothly from my brain. I'm trying, though!

In the spirit of WIP Wednesday, here are a few scattered segments I've put in since Sunday:

A Baz Bit:

That doesn’t get the reaction I was hoping for, either. I was aiming for indignation, but I seem to have arrived at confusion instead. It’s a dangerous game I play with Snow, riling him up until the room shimmers with the poorly-contained force of him; one day, I know, this will end in flames. But not today. Today he isn’t so much as throwing a spark. I doubt that means he’s learned control, though— more likely I’ve simply missed my mark.

A Simon Bit:

I sit back to examine my lists, holding the paper up vertically above my desk. Penny insists that the verticality is an important part of the list-making process, and I’m not inclined to disagree with the expert. I’m satisfied with their construction, but less so with the conclusion it’s all pointing me toward. The solution is obvious enough that if Baz weren’t at football pitch, he’d be making fun of me for having to write it all out to see it, but that doesn’t mean I like it.

Next up are a few scattered segments as we skip forward in time! Miscellaneous characters will be given POVs on Simon as he grows up— if you have a suggestion, let me know and I may include them!

That's all for today.

Thanks again to @monbons and @rimeswithpurple for the tags! And a hello to:

@larkral @raenestee @youarenevertooold @simonsnowsfreckles @prettygoododds @roomwithanopenfire

[c0nsumemy5oul]

Simon Snow is not a man of words. But a picture is a thousand words so who needs them anyways?

No, he may not be able to find words to express his admiration so he draws. Sketches. Paints. Whatever material he can get his hands on. From charcoal to oil paint. He loves drawing. Almost as much as he loves magic.

It keeps his mind quiet. Helps him calm down. Simon is aware he doesn't look like the kind of person who can handle a water brush very well and he can't. But it doesn't matter what or how well, as long as he draws.

more under the cut

He started as a child in the orphanage. They had free time between their classes and were encouraged to find something to do. A hobby.

Simon hated reading, and also writing for that matter. And the other things the children did never interested him. But crayons.

He drew with that and slowly progressed to pencil colours and then eventually charcoal. His favourite medium. He used it to draw so much.

Birds, sceneries, people.

He had a speech therapist who was nice to him. Nicer than anyone ever treated him. Simon now suspects she might've been a magician. He made her a portrait to tell he how much he appreciated her. Since he didn't like to talk much then. Still doesn't.

It wasn't very good. In fact, it looked nothing like her. But she loved it nonetheless.

Simon got excited. He drew more people since. Made him better. He got the features closer. His drawings became more detailed. Certain expressions that used to be hard became so much easier. Like small smiles or faraway stares.

Until his last year in Lancashire.

He was 11, the quiet trouble child who kept to himself. Drawing outside on a hot summer day, leaning on a tree and sketching out a flower in front of him.

He had a bag that he'd gotten from one of the orphanage staff which he used to store all his drawings. From little scraps to huge pages of paper. The bag rested beside him on the grass. He'd felt very comfortable and happy which didn't happen often back then.

The flower he was drawing was stepped on by a worn-down boot. Simon looked up only to be faced with one of the teenage boys and his gang behind him. They were all older than him.

They snatched his drawings, dumped them on the ground and stepped on them. They made fun of him. Simon can't exactly recall what they were saying, but at some point he just snapped.

Next thing he knows, the boys are running away, three of them bloodied in the face and two limping.

Simon was sent to bed without dinner.

It was the same night the orphanage burned down. All his drawings turned to ash.

But even though he didn't stop drawing people and faces, he figured it's best not to show them to anyone, keep them hidden. Things could literally end up in flames.

inspired by the artist simon prompt:

simon makes a portrait of baz, and then loses it. a few days later, baz finds the paper in one of their classrooms, and when he sees it's him, he discreetly takes the paper and puts it in his bag. once he's in his room, he takes it out and looks at it more intently, feeling in a bit of awe for whoever drew this, but also confused as to why they would draw him of all people, and feeling a bit like his privacy was broken into, as he looks so soft and beautiful in the drawing, and he knows he never looks like that in public.

when simon comes into the room, he sees baz looking at his drawing, and asks him who drew it. baz, not wanting to reveal that he just found it in a class, is all like "what do you mean, i drew this myself, it's a self portrait. can't you see how well done it is, obviously i did it"

New Carry On prompt!

[the-lincyclopedia]

I got tagged by @cricketnationrise over a week ago but have been super busy, but hey, better late than never, right?

Rules: give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

Most hits: "Love in the Time of Influenza" - Carry On, Snowbaz - a sickfic that's mostly popular because of this lovely art by @vkelleyart

Second-most kudos/fourth-most bookmarks: "Face the Future with You" - Check Please, Zimbits - a fluffy romantic fic that doubles as an autism PSA

Third-most comments: "Take Me to Court" - Queen's Thief, Gen (as in the category, although honestly also the character) - a drabble series set during KoA based on Hozier's "Take Me to Church"

Fifth-most words: "The Story with Many Beginnings" - Heroes of Olympus, Jasiper - a Jason-lives fic where Jason and Piper get back together after college

Least words (other than podfics): "Gen's Least-Favorite Things" - Queen's Thief, Gen (again, the category and the character) - a parody of "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music

I'm not tagging anybody because I think a lot of people I would have tagged already got tagged and now the time has passed, but if you want to play, feel free to pretend I tagged you!

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

for ao3 wrapped 15, 16, and 26 💕

thanks for the ask!

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

I have a thing that's "a Princess Bride AU" but it's loosely based on it (and I really mean loosely, Agatha can turn into a leopard in this thing). The thing here is that I've done a lot of "trying to figure out" how to work the characters into it and what's really my plot and how to solve it etc so I've only written a couple of paragraphs. It kinda feels too big? I don't have the brainpower for it (yet, hopefully). And I'm personally not into the "replicating this media exactly as it is or only with small changes but with my blorbos" because different characters would change the story, wouldn't they? I'm more into "borrowing this and that from this media and maybe referencing a couple of things" – and that complicates it haha

I also have a thing that I've started for the erotic gropefest, and a sleeping beauty AU (but i might write this one for the sleep COC prompt as something super short)

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Fluff. Also angst. I've discovered I can be pretty quick to produce both – just don't ask me for world-building or plot details and the like (if you ever see in my fics "character can't remember [detail that would explain part of the plot or why they are outside etc]" that means I couldn't be bothered with defining it and decided it wasn't relevant to the story or the scene anyway haha.

26. What’s your most common category?

I had to open ao3 to figure out what exactly counts as category lol – M/M because I write snowbaz the most! After this, I have written or done something with Agatha and Simon in some capacity more than once, but you couldn't pay me to tag them as a ship (I use "&") so I only ever used F/M once, gen once, F/F once too (it would be twice if I upload that Margaret/Blue drabble)

From this ask game

[ebbpettier]

WIP TAG GAME

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

i like to give fics and chapters and everything VERY pretty titles: but before they get those titles? yeah you're gonna be able to immediately tell which ones are which

(NOTE: i am including the titles, but NOT the notes. with the exception of the very short ones, each of these fics has an extensive document of Notes because i love research more than breathing even though i am good at neither)

(also some of the notes had even sillier names, instructions for myself, etc. there's also notes IN the fic margins and titles. i have so many notes. i'm buried in notes.)

TRANS BAZ HOURS IDK

What's Mine Is Yours

Everybody Wants To Be A Cat

Prince Lindwyrm/Shed A Shift

UNDYNE SIMON FIC (LADY OF THE LAKE OHSHIIIIT? ASK CAT)

Here There Be Dragons

THIRTEEN O' CLOCK. search for bookmark.

Untitled Document

Untitled Document

The Dose Makes The Poison

PENNY AND TRIXIE ARE NOT FRIENDS

gay transgender goblin sex

SNOWBAZ DRABBLES

(only 2 of these are planned to be shorter than 5 chapters and my average chapter length is about 5k-7k. DO YOU SEE MY PREDICAMENT.)

@stitchyqueer and @ileadacharmedlife were kind enough to tag me so [blindly spins the wheel] i'll tag @shrekgogurt and @artsyunderstudy!

[facewithoutheart]

Not Mine

drabble, 601 words, established SnowBaz

I thought one day I’d look in the mirror and see the Mage staring back.

But this is one of those Things I Don’t Think About. AKA Things I’ve Thought About Once and Then Swiftly Pushed Down Into a Pit Deeper Than The Well Agatha Once Got Trapped In.

Thoughts that are Not My Problem.

Baz thinks about it. I see him sometimes, frowning at his jawline in the mirror like his father’s jowls are going to show up without permission or warning. Then he’ll dart a look in my direction and the fear will hover in the air between us. He waits for it to land, forgetting I’ve had quick reflexes since that time the Humdrum sent a hoard of buttercries my first week at Watford. I swat this thought away just as easily, even without being able to call the Sword of Mages. Hyah! Take that.

(I’m pretty sure if I were still in therapy my doctor wouldn’t consider mentally karate-chopping intrusive thoughts a sign of progress but her last notes called me “markedly improved” and she let me go without setting a follow-up appointment, so. Thbbft.)

Although, if I’m being honest, maybe it’s less a factor of repression that I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about whether or not I will one day look like the Mage. Because, honestly, I’m too busy seeing how I look like Gran. Or Grandpa. Uncle Jamie.

My mum.

Gran made me copies of her old photo albums and I lose myself in them sometimes, seeing all the ways I connect to this person I never got to meet. Her eyes. Her shoulders. Her hair.

Her freckles.

She smiles in her photos; the Mage never smiled. Not really. Sometimes he’d try, like he thought I needed his face to show that expression, but it was never his.

I smile. I have smile lines. Baz likes to trace them. Mostly when he thinks I’m sleeping but sometimes when I’m awake. He’s got them, too. No jowls, though. I don't even think not yet after that statement because I don’t think that’s the way he’ll end up looking like his father.

(My bet’s on the silver hair.)

(Mmm.)

Not every son looks like his father. And I realize that’s not something I get to choose. Maybe one day I will wake up with a terrible moustache and Baz will hold me down before I’m even completely alert just to shave it off so I can’t see.

Which is silly.

But that’s love.

Love is the way Baz fears I might one day look in the mirror and see the man who nearly killed me. The man who manipulated me, abandoned me. The man who was meant to be my father but never ever deserved that title.

Love is the way Baz worries over the things I can’t. He holds that fear outside me. He’s ready for the day when it lands.

But I don’t think it ever will.

Maybe this is less a Thing I Don’t Think About and more a Thing That’s Not Mine.

This face is mine. These wrinkles are mine. These freckles, moles, shoulders, eyes … mine.

So is Gran. Uncle Jamie.

Baz.

I don’t look in the mirror and fear. I see. That means—

“Mmm,” Baz hums, coming up behind me, his arms wrapping around my middle as he hooks his chin over my shoulder. He catches my eye in the mirror. “What’s that brain of yours thinking?”

I smile, spinning around so I can kiss away the furrow digging between his brows. “Nothing,” I say. “Nothing at all.”

[forabeatofadrum]

an ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIP(s)

Thanks for tagging me @wellbelesbian! Better late than never, eh?

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s):

Just Some Guy and Ljubili se. Those are my "active" WIPs now, because if I had to list all of them... oh boy. Although I'm working on Just Some Guy more.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Outsider POV + Chosen One shit = disinterest

Queer journey + long distance = chaos (I think???)

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

For these two, none. I know Matt is MCD, but it stands for Matt Christopher Davis.

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

I don't really have alternative titles, but they do have nicknames. I call Just Some Guy "MCD" because it's just funny to me and Ljubili se "Klaine in Ljubljana 2" which is ridiculous cause they're no longer in Ljubljana.

5. ⚠️Which WIP your most likely to finish or update next?

Just Some Guy. I only need to finish one more chapter and I've been updating it weekly.

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Ljubili se is in "drabbles and oneshots" and Just Some Guy in "Non-glee drabbles and oneshots" because I am chaotic and put all my writing in those two docs, unless something becomes too big, then it gets its own doc.

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

I’ve heard stories of physical fights between them, but I kind of don’t care. Just let me play chess in peace. If they want to knock each other’s brains out, be my guest. One time I walked to class and Simon almost shoved Baz against the wall in anger, and I just passed them. I think more students are kind of used to their escalations. So, no, I don’t care. Arnold says it’s rude of me to think that way, but it’s not out of malice. It’s out of disinterest. “Really, I don’t get politics,” I sigh.

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

I scrapped two scenes in Just Some Guy. The whole premise of the fic is that Matt honestly doesn't care that much about what the fuck is going in with Simon Snow and entourage. Originally, the kidnapping of the Mage in the 6th year had an entire scene where he, Leslie and John discuss it. And in the 8th year, there was an entire scene where Matt and his dad learn about the Mage's death, because once again, John and Leslie show up to discuss it. But in the end, I realised that Matt just... doesn't care. And those two scenes therefore felt very forced and it dragged the chapters down. The snippets aren't bad. They're just woefully unnecessary. I was like "I need Matt to acknowledge this" and I realised I didn't. I put both of them under the cut at the end of this post.

Hey, it ain't spoilers, cause everyone who's read Carry On knows what happens to good ole Davy.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Unfortunately for me, my mind's already started planning for this year's Klaine Advent/December Fanworks Challenge. Why is this unfortunate? Well, I still have to finish the 2023 one, Ljubili se.

But this idea is pretty neat. It's inspired by J.M. Frey's Accidental Turn series. That's all I'm sayin.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

Actively, 2. Maybe 3, since bamboo ceiling is rotating in my brain. Don't ask me about the others in my WIP Hospital.

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

I AM FUCKING STUCK ON LJUBILI SE BECAUSE JUST LIKE LJUBIM TE I JUST FIND KURT'S POV HARDER/LESS INTERESTING TO WRITE.

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

Kudos back!

I think this post has been passed around in the Snowbaz fandom, so I am passing it to the Gleeks: @thnxforknowingme @caramelcoffeeaddict @coffeegleek @quizasvivamos @bitbybitwrites @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion @rockitmans @special-bc-ur-part-of-it and whoever else!

Year 6: Mage's kidnapping

When I come home from Christmas break, something is definitely up.

“Did I miss anything?” I whisper to Leslie. We’re walking towards the Dining Hall to meet up with the others.

Leslie looks around.

“I heard this from John,” she leans in, “that the Mage got kidnapped over Christmas.”

“What?!” I exclaim.

“Shut it,” Leslie hisses. Some people are indeed staring at us. “The Coven is keeping it quiet at the Mage’s request. He cannot afford to look weak in front of the Old Families and the Dark Creatures.”

“Then how does John know?” I ask, but I think I already know the answer. John just knows stuff. And so far he’s always right. Maybe he’s a Seer, or something. Not that those are real, but damn, John is a strong contender.

And yes, Leslie tells me that John just knows.

Leslie and I enter the Dining Hall and John waves. Everyone’s already here. I look to Leslie to say something about it, but she’s already run to Sam to catch up. I shrug. Leslie can be mysterious as well.

I sit next to John and I inquire about the Mage’s disappearance.

“Yeah, Simon Snow saved him and all that jazz,” John says quietly.

“Shouldn’t the Mage be the one protecting him, not the other way around?”

“You’d think, huh?” John sighs.

I look around. I assume others know as well, but no one discusses it openly. Even the Old Family kids don’t taunt Simon Snow about his mentor allegedly being kidnapped.

“Why did you tell Leslie?” I ask.

“Because I knew she’d tell you.”

“Why is it important that I know?” I ask, “You know I don’t care about Chosen One stuff.”

I care more about the pudding that’s in front of me. Fuck yeah, pudding. Both my mum and my dad are decent cooks, but they have nothing on cook Pritchard.

John shrugs.

“I needed you to react to it for story reasons,” he says.

“… Okay,” I say and I scoop some pudding on my plate, “Did it work?”

John nods with a smile.

“Yes, it did.”

--

Year 8: Mage's death

“Okay, so, the Humdrum attacked the Pitch Manor, where Simon Snow so happened to be. The day after, it attacks Watford. Simon and the Mage are there. Simon defeats the Humdrum and lost his magic. He kills the Mage. Is that… all?”

“In a nutshell,” Leslie says.

“Why would Simon Snow kill the Mage?” my dad wonders out loud. That is indeed the most surprising part, not even the fact that the Mage killed Ebb, the goatherd.

“The investigation is still in its beginning phase,” John says, “But it sounds like the Mage maybe wasn’t a good man after all.”

“Huh,” my dad says. That’s all. But it summarises it perfectly. Look, my dad and I are just some guys. We don’t have big opinions on the status quo, so we never really questioned how things are.

“So, what now?” I ask.

“There will be an inquiry into the Mage’s death,” Leslie explains, “Mitali Bunce is interim headmistress. Rumour has it that Simon Snow’s magic hasn’t returned, so who knows if he’ll come back to school.”

Damn.

This dude just saved the world, and he has to think about school?

I mean, I do too, but I am no Chosen One.

Bruh, it must suck to be Simon Snow

[orange-peony]

SnowBaz + DeNiall I Explicit I 26k I Speed dating AU, meet cute, cat café, falling in love over Shakespeare, praise kink, a confident Simon who can also be bossy in bed, smitten Baz, smutty smut.

Summary: The bell goes ding, and I close my eyes. I hear the scraping sound of the chair in front of me. I inhale deeply as I try to mentally prepare for another five-minute-slot of pure agony as another imbecile tries and fails to seduce me.

“I’m an arsonist,” I declare, my well-rehearsed opening line to discourage the next loser. 

“Nah, I reckon you’re just an arse,” the stranger in front of me replies.

I finally open my eyes, and my vision is filled with a mass of bronze curls, freckles and moles. He’s sitting there with his legs spread wide, jutting his chin out and waiting for me to say something, a dare in his blue eyes. I try to ignore the fact that he’s a fucking wet dream come true and raise my left eyebrow at him. He’s not even wearing a pin to signal who he might be interested in.

And he just called me an arse.

This fic was meant to be a drabble 😬 I got carried away with the cats and with this particular Simon.

An enormous thank you to @bubble-gumhead for being a fantastic alpha, beta and cheerleader. A shiny thank you to @pato-roldnart and @avenueofesc for being amazing.

Read chapter 1 on AO3.

[angelsfalling16]

Simon

My mind tends to flash back to that moment. To the look in his eyes.

It seems to happen at the most inopportune times, completely unbidden, in vivid detail.

Baz was kneeled down in a pool of blood. Whose, I still can’t say for sure. I just know that none of it was his.

His hands were covered in it, and that’s what got me more than the blood that was slowly soaking into his normally pristine pants. It was evidence that he hadn’t simply stumbled upon this horrid scene as I had; he took some part in it.

The most jarring detail, though, was the lack of a victim.

What did you do? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to know the answer. The bloody knife beside him was enough for me.

“Go,” is what I told him instead, and when he looked up surprised, I shook my head. “Just go.”

I wanted to say so much more, but what could I have said? That it was okay? Clearly that wasn’t true. But at the moment, there was no body, and I remembered something I had heard once, long ago, no body, no crime.

I repeat that to him now before forcing myself to turn away, hoping I’d never see him again.

But here he is, two years later, standing in front of me, looking as though that night never happened. Like it hasn’t been tearing him up and riddling his sleep with nightmares of blood and flashing red and blue lights and a deep terror, the way it has me.

He smiles, but it isn’t real. It’s just a turning up of his lips, and that look is almost as bad as the look he gave me that night, right before he took off.

“What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he says, ignoring my question.

“I thought you were gone.”

He shrugs and picks up a little goat figurine I have sitting on my desk, and he turns it over in his hands as he seemingly inspects it. Though, I know he’s tuned into every detail except what he’s holding in his hands. It’s just a ploy to throw people off, to hide his true intent.

I fell for the same trick over and over when we knew each other.

But now, he’s just a stranger, and I am acutely aware of his every movement.

“I need a job,” he says quietly.

“Then go somewhere else.”

“I can’t. No one else is hiring. Plus, you really don’t have a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were there that night, too. If say, the truth was to come out somehow, you would be implicated in the matter. Probably spend a few years behind bars at best.”

I can hear the threat in his calm tone, but he has no proof I was there. And he’d have to implicate himself in whatever horrible crime took place that night. He would never do that.

“I don’t even know what happened that night,” I say.

“Oh, but I think you do.” He looks up from the figurine and stares straight into my eyes with a dark look. “Deep down, I think you know. Even if you are unwilling to admit it.”

I grit my teeth. I didn’t do anything wrong that night.

But I guess maybe I did. By letting him go.

But what other choice did I have? I love him — loved him, I correct myself. And I would have done anything to protect him.

He knows that, and now, he’s using it against me.

I shake my head. “I won’t help you. Not anymore. You’re on your own.”

“Okay,” he sighs, setting the goat back down exactly where he got it. “But make sure you truly mean that before you tell me to leave.”

I stand from my chair so that we’re almost eye-level now and he’s no longer towering over me. “I mean it. Now, leave.”

He gives me one last long look before turning away. He stops at the door, though, to look at me over his shoulder.

“I do hope you won’t live to regret this.”

So do I.

a/n: I’m not really sure what this is exactly or where it’s going, but the words just started streaming out of me once I began typing. Do with it what you like; I probably won’t continue it.. It was just an interesting thing to write down.

[bazandsimonsittinginatree]

*slides 30¢ across counter* send me snowbaz fic requests in my inbox