#which is to say ridiculous fanpersoning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notlikeotherbirds · 5 years ago

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Based on this post but instead of just one angel fanpersoning about Aziraphael and Crowley pining there are gigantic fan clubs in both heaven and hell around the ship. I came up with the idea with @magical-bee and wrote this:

Some Scene setting: The war between hell and heaven is happening and Crowley and Aziraphael are in the middle

Crowley is getting stabbed by an angel and everyone around them immediately stops fighting and stare at the attacker, shook and in disbelief. Aziraphael hurries to his love super dramatic with tears streaming down his face not noticing what's happening around them kneels over Crowley and whispers calming words and just holding him. The angel who attacked Crowley has been captured by bystanding angels and demons and while everyone is totally hating on him they're also kind of glad that they get to see this beautiful moment between their otp. When Crowley is at the brim of death and Aziraphael is sobbing telling him he loves him literally all demons and angels are sobbing too and the fight has stopped completely because they're all busy holding each other and crying over how sad and beautiful this is. Suddenly a very bright light appears all the angels and all the demons are illuminated by the Almighty’s light. The ones who were still fighting stopped now because She is here. She (obviously a certified sipper™) steps over to the angel and the demon cowering on the floor of the battlefield holding on to each other. One of them almost dead but still with the last energy he has holds on to the only thing that matters to him, Aziraphael, his love. The other looks up terrified shielding his love with his body. "You can't have him, please don't take him from me" there are tears streaming down his face. God smiles at him and his love. She bends down and picks Crowley up Aziraphael can't stop Her from doing it (even though he really, really tries). The energy in the room is electrifying what is She going to do now. She holds her creation (a fallen one but still Her child) and gently kisses him. It's a small kiss on the forehead but from it a light emits spreading all over his body lighting him up. Aziraphael looks terrified as his love, as he believes, leaves him. But the light dims and Crowley is still there, his eyes are closed and he has a little mark on his forehead but he looks the same as before. The tension in the room is unbelievable everyone is looking at Her and the demon in her arms. Then Crowley opens his eyes. A sigh big enough to be heard on earth goes through the masses of demons and angels. Crowley looks up to God in disbelief but She just smiles and sets him on the ground. He has barely touched the ground when Aziraphael is already wrapping his arms around him passionate enough to make both of them fall to the ground together, wrapped around each other. Their embrace is deep and long and for a moment the crowds think they might have merged to one creature but then Crowley pulls away slightly looking at Aziraphael "I thought I lost you" he whispers (loud enough for all of them to hear, or maybe it’s just quiet enough to hear even the smallest of wipers) and Aziraphael stares at him angry for a moment "You thought you lost me? You almost died I watched you die. You don't get to say that. I thought I lost you... everything... you. I couldn't even stay with you. She took you from me and I..." there are tears running from his eyes and sobs stop his flow of words. The anger is gone there is just grief and relief and love left. "I know I'm sorry. It's all right. I'm here I didn't die, see" Crowley has put his hand under Aziraphael chin to make him look in his eyes, to reassure him that he isn't dead. To show him that he's here. Aziraphael looks and sees and then he takes Crowley's face in his hands and kisses him. For 6000 years has he wanted this (knowingly or not is unimportant now) and now he can't stop it anymore. He thought he had lost him and he got a second chance, he's not going to waste it. His lips meet Crowley’s and the world explodes they both wanted this, no, needed this for so long that they could swear they hear angel choirs sing and firework explode with the force of hell fire. Crowley returns the kiss with the passion of centuries of (not so very well) hidden feelings and hopelessness and now hope. He pulls Aziraphael closer running his hands through his golden locks and over his cheeks and neck and back and God it feels good to finally touch his Angel. Aziraphael is not less active deepening their kiss reducing the space between them until he basically sits on Crowley. When they pull away finally panting and smiling the angel choir doesn't stop and the fireworks just get louder. They finally look up. It's not entirely clear what is happening but it does look like there is firework and angels singing and demons too? And they're not fighting anymore. The weapons are on the floor neglected and there are dances and tears of joy and demons and angels are hugging each other.

God is standing at a distance to the crowd of ancient enemies and long-time friend and fan club participants and smiles. She would tell them to stop the fighting and end the war but She doesn't feel like that will be necessary anymore. Some Angels have miracled their swords into confetti canons and some demons have miracled balloons in the air. The Battlefield has turned into a party, the biggest party since the creation of the universe. Crowley and Aziraphael, confused at first, quickly get picked up by some fellow supernatural entities and get a brief explanation of the surveillance footage and the fan club and the reason for the celebration (Aziraphael and Crowley at last getting around at kissing each other). While at first they can't believe it soon enough they decide to deal with the thought of what to do about the spying and the fan circles later and join the party. Which mostly means they get some alcohol from the bar someone miracled to the former battleground, current party floor and make up for time lost pining.

Gabriel and Beelzebub are pretty shocked at the turn of event and decide to neglect the common foot folk and leave together to discuss how ridiculous their people are being, cooperating together to celebrate of all things....what again?

#good omens #crowley #aziraphael #innefable husbands #fanfiction

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aporeticelenchus · 6 years ago

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Courfeyrac/ Bahorel , since you mentioned it? (ooh and maybe Bahorel/ Marius, since you are the only person I know who's even jokingly written it?XD)

Bahorel/Courfeyrac

Do not want. Ptooey.

I am neutral, indifferent and serene. Send me a rec and change my mind.

I’ll enjoy anything as long as they’re in it.

I’ll enjoy anything as long as they get a happy ending.

Break them and make them bleed.

Swaddle them in fluff.

I’m mostly interested in gapfilling and exploring their canon interactions. I don’t have anything exciting to say about them because I don’t have a specific canon interaction I really want to explore and I have a preferred Courfeyrac ship anyway. But they are definitely both full of Enthusiasms!

Throw the canon out the window; bae deserves better.

Gimme crackfic. This is really where this duo belongs; ridiculous adventures and occasional arson.

Gimme all the tropes.

Subvert the tropes and set them on fire.

I am a simple soul: I’m here because they’re hot and sometimes naked.

Here is my OTP. Come between them and I will…ship and let ship, because I am a civilized fanperson, but CAN’T YOU SEE THEY’RE PERFECT TOGETHER??! (Or perfectly, fascinatingly, shippably dysfunctional, in certain cases.)

I have favoured and disfavoured ships. Convince me. Seduce me.

I had an OTP once, but then this amazing author, [insert author here], seduced me. Goddammit.

Fandom bicycle, baby! \o/

I have no shippy feelings at this time.

My feelings cannot be summed up by this meme. Have a seat while I put the kettle on.

Bahorel/Marius

I genuinely can’t even imagine this existing in the fandom wild outside my Fakest Fake Dating AU.

All I can think is “who’s going to tell Courfeyrac”

“Hey Courfeyrac one of your friends seduced your awkward drama roommate with the dark romantic streak a mile long and you’ll never believe - actually yeah ok you might believe which one it was.”

If this happens it is 99% because Bahorel sees Potential in Marius. He’s going to put him in a kilt and have him read poetry under the moonlight in a graveyard to see if something Awakens in him.

…1% because Marius is super hot. Duh.

Bahorel is going to hide all of Marius’ razors to see if he can grow a wild and rebellious beard.

In conclusion I can very easily see Bahorel casually flirting with Marius, in the same way he casually flirts with humanity at large, but what are the circumstances in which Marius does not react with either confusion or terror I just could not say.

#Elenchus chats #meme responses #pilferingapples

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hedgehog-o-brien · 5 years ago

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I’m so proud rn it’s ridiculous

[bit of backstory: I spent seven years as a member of a Christian student’s association, which can be compared to a very very mild fraternity/sorority I guess. Pretty heavily Christian though, from all kinds of denominations: from Roman Catholic to Evangelical to anything in between. Best years of my life, honestly, and I’m gonna tell you why below.]

I met a guy, a couple of years ago. Let’s call him Jeremy (it’s not his name, but close enough). I was a fifth-year at the moment, he was a first-year but we were still the same age, from the same part of the country, we both studied the same subject and so we kinda hit it off. As friends, because I just came out of an ugly breakup with Fellow Fanperson (oh yeah, that happened. Don’t think I ever told you guys, but yeah. FF and I broke up in... 2014? I guess? Any questions, ask away but that’s not... well, that kinda is what this story is about, but not in that way. I’m not making any sense. Let’s continue).

Anywho. Break up. Me not really a happy bunny. And since Jeremy and FF were pretty much the same guy, so I was very much holding off the relationship boat but otherwise, we had fun hanging out and talking and being shy little geeks in our own little corner of the student’s association bar.

And when I met Jeremy, he was. A guy. Guy-guy. Ratty t-shirts, jeans, long hair that was not really well-groomed, etc. You get the picture.

Fast forward a couple of years.

I’m a seventh-year now and about to leave the association and the town. Jeremy is in his third year, has had some study setbacks, hit some other roadblocks but also made some changes. For instance, his hair’s still long but shiny and smells fruity. He’s wearing bright nail polish. He’s never told me or talked to me about it, but even then I had some sneaking suspicions that Jeremy might be on some kind of road of self discovery.

Fast forward another two years. It’s an association reunion and I walk into the bar to be greeted by Jeremy, who’s still a member (fifth year, for those of you who have been keeping track). And Jeremy.

Is in full face make up, foundation, eye shadow, lipstick, and when he steps out from behind the bar, I notice he’s wearing a skirt. Like, knee-length, black over black tights but still, noticeable, a skirt.

And that already made me so happy for him.

That he’s got the courage to be himself, in an environment that I’ve always known to be inclusive (despite whatever everybody thinks (rightly so, I know) when they see the label ‘Christian’) but I hadn’t known-known. If you know what I mean. I mean, theoretically I knew everybody should be accepted. But we all know that theory isn’ t practice and that it’s all too often that people say ‘yes, well, but we didn’t mean this’ .

Anywho.

I talked to Jeremy. We lost touch (I’m very bad at keeping in touch with people, no joke) but yeah, my suspicions were correct. He’s definitely figuring some things out, and he’s not sure if he’s cis or trans or something in between, but the way he’s dressed right now, that feels right. And yeah, he’s gotten some odd looks, especially when people visit the association for the first time, but overall? To everybody, he’s still Jeremy. Only Jeremy wears skirts and make up now. And that’s cool.

And that already made me so happy that I almost started crying right then and there. Especially, and here we get back to Fellow Fanperson for a bit, since FF also liked to doll himself up but he was way too ashamed to admit it to anyone except me and some other close friends (I told you they were alike). The fact that Jeremy wasn’t ashamed and showed himself, me and others that there was nothing to be ashamed of? Boy, I know several people who could learn a lot from him.

Third flash forward to five minutes ago.

I’m supposed to be at work but actually I’m on FB, browsing like you do when you’re bored af. And I come across a picture of, like, a fraternity subdivision of the student’s association. Like, all the guys have bonded there together bc the association was mostly girls and they needed some guy-time or whatever. It’s cigars and whiskey and ugly ties and sparerib nights and everything you’d think of when a bunch of adolescent dudes get together.

So I see that picture. And

That’s Jeremy in the sweet red dress.

And the founder, this 40-something suburban Christian guy, the founder of the all-guy-subdivision has responded to the picture, saying he’s incredibly proud to see this, to see the honor of the Diogenes Club (yes, that’s what it’s called, yes I find it funny as hell and no they don’t like it when you point out to them what Diogenes was really like) held high.

And that’s why I’m hear, holding back tears while trying to get back to a translation about fitness equipment.

#personal #long rambling

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multsicorn · 6 years ago

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How do you ship Parse?

thanks for asking! I have way too much to say.

I’m mostly interested in gapfilling and exploring their canon interactions.Throw the canon out the window; bae deserves better.

Cause these two make a wonderful pair ;).

I don't think there's any character, ever, where the core of my interest in them isn't something about canon. With Parse, specifically, something not exploring any of the things that interest me in canon - being a kid dealing with another kid's mental issues in a weird high-pressure environment; building your life back up in the aftermath of said bf(f) almost dying, then ghosting you, in, again, a weirdly public where you have to be private environment - either directly, or indirectly in an AU, feels like it's kind of missing the point.

But also FUCK YES throw canon out the window: give him a supportive team, either through AUing or (now that I've acclimated to canon this long, ha) through changing it; let him stop pining for his high school boyfriend (yes, even though I ship them); give him a full and wonderful life offscreen that we haven't seen on. LET HIM BE HAPPY. ('I’ll enjoy anything as long as they get a happy ending,' however, does not apply, cause I do want the hard parts to be acknowledged and not irrelevant.)

Gimme all the tropes.Subvert the tropes and set them on fire.

I would probably select this pair for any ship or character I care to read about at all! I love many many tropes - all the varieties of enforced closeness, from huddling for warmth through fake dating through arranged marriage, etc. - I love AUs that fuck around with 'what is the nature of a relationship,' such as soulmates or D/s (or I guess more recently popularly A/B/O) AUs. I'm always here for plot devices such as magical transformation, time loops, or HI HERE'S A BABY.

(I am usually not a fan of the 'total AU' type of trope, though, as opposed to 'canon with extra features,' which is a++.)

But… I prefer for the tropes to bend to the characters and canon-ish world, rather than the other way around. I don't need them to be subverted - I've enjoyed tons of tropes played completely straight - if the tropes as-is are well suited to illuminate the character(s) and relationship(s), that's great! But I am ALSO always a fan of a good thoughtful trope subversion.

… On the one hand, my baseline is always multishippy. But on the other hand, I have become… pretty OTPish about Jack/Parse over my years in and out of this fandom.

(come between them and I will… not read that particular fic! Or even worse I will READ IT and SHIP THEM IN IT ANYWAY and also NOT TELL YOU. how dare.)

Not because they're perfect together LOL NO - though I do think they ~could be~ good, better than anyone else that we know for either of them (yes reading against canon) - and I do think they were better for each other back in the Q than they weren't, no matter what Jack said. But 'mutual lifeboats in a storm' isn't what I ultimately want for either of them.

Nor do I think they're fascinatingly shippably dysfunctional! (I mean. I don't entirely NOT think that.) But… I think they were a fascinating mix of function and dysfunction back when they were together. And I think that THE PROCESS of both of them becoming less dysfunctional, and, most importantly, healing from the wounds they left each other with, finding a way to deal with the ghost of one’s past, fully and honestly, as a person, in the present… that's the bit that's perfectly, fascinatingly, ridiculously, compellingly shippable to me.

#meme #if anyone else wants to play.. i'm still here...#i think i'm gonna start playing more on tumblr again #jackparse #omgcheckplease stuff /#stultiloquentia

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 7 years ago

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Night Time in NYC

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3645

Summary: Simon has no sense of direction and ends up lost in his recent home city of New York. But a helpful stranger offers to get him home. Based on "kiss that was regretted/more than one kiss" request.

Read on AO3

AN: Once again, Theo returns with the ridiculous and cheesy snowbaz fic. This is just pure tooth rotting fluff for all your fanperson needs. Hardly any angst at all really. Just Simon and Baz being pining idiots. After writing the The Sailor and The Siren I needed to do something simple and sweet. I had a lot of fun with it, cause who doesn't love uber fluff? :)

Simon

I don’t know where I am. Which is normal, but usually harmless. I can use Google maps to find where I’m going. But my shitty phone has decided to completely die on me. I hit in a desperate attempt to revive it. And it stays a dead brick.

“Shit,” I hiss.

Godammit. I should’ve accepted Penny and Micah’s offer for a ride home. But no, I decided to be fucking noble and self sacrificing and walk back to campus.

Alone.

In New York City.

At one in the morning.

I’m an idiot.

I think I’m walking in the generally right direction. But I don’t recognise anything. I’ve been living here for a less than a month so I still get lost. Numbered streets are easy, my arse.

From the distance, in the general silence, I hear noise. Muffled, but noise. People! Somewhere open. Where I can find someone with a phone and call a cab to get home! Thank every god for all night places in New York fucking City.

Following with my ears, I head towards some low rise brick buildings. As I go down a long dark alleyway (I’m going to get stabbed), the noise gets louder, stopping in front of a metal door. Thumping electronic music comes from behind it. Must be some nightclub. Aht bright red emergency exit sign hangs over it. Normally, I’d just leave and not risk going through a bloody emergency exit. But I’m beyond desperate. So I turn the handle

Holy shit. It’s like the TARDIS, bigger on the inside. Strobing multi coloured lights fill the massive room. I’m immediately engulfed in a sea of people. They’re all milling about around me. Talking, dancing, drinking. Dear lord, is this is what a real night club is like? It’s freaky. I don’t like it.

I shove my way through the bustling people, trying to find the bar. I bump into a guy and mumble “excuse me.”

“Hey sugar,” he says, taking my wrist, “why don’t you take off your coat and stay awhile?”

I blink rapidly, then look behind me to make sure he’s actually talking to me. “Um, what?”

He raises an eyebrow, smile seductive and obviously trying to tempt me. “I said why don’t you take your coat off? You can’t really find a guy in that.”

“Oh, uh, I’m not here...for that.”

He lifts both brows. “Then why are you in a gay dance club?”

Oh. Oh shit...

I look around the club. It’s mostly populated by impossibly buff men in tight shirts, standing very close and obviously talking in low, seductive voices. This is definitely a gay club. Not that I have a problem with gay people. (I’ve never given much thought to my sexuality, but I’m probably not 100% straight.) It’s just very unfamiliar and a bit intimidating. I’ve never been in straight club, let alone a gay one. And being so lost and stressed out, I don’t really feel like being flirted with right now.

“I uh, I...I gotta go,” I stutter out.

I rush off towards the bar. Maybe the bartender has a mobile I can borrow. Or maybe I’ll be thrown out for not paying. That would suck. I practically crash into smooth black counter, panting slightly. Fuck, the heat of the club plus my coat is not helping my stress levels. I hang my head, breathing slowly. I could really, really use something good right now.

“Hello,” someone with a posh British accent says next to me. “How are you?”

I turn to my left, and my heart promptly stops.

He’s gorgeous. Like, supermodel gorgeous. With cheekbones sharper than Benedict Cumberbatch, shining reddish-gold skin, and eyes like a goddamn hurricane. His relatively long black hair is slicked back like some old movie vampire. But it’s a weirdly good look on him. Makes him look sexy and sort of mysterious. His black t-shirt is tight on his defined chest. Equally dark jeans hug him in all the right places. The way he leans on the bar is confident but not cocky. Just self-assured. And it’s so, so hot. (80% straight maybe.)

“H-Hi,” I stutter. “Can you help me? I’m...lost.”

He cocks a perfect eyebrow. “But now you’ve met me and found your way? How sweet and cheesy.”

“No. I mean, I’m trying to get home, and I’m really lost. Like I don’t know where I am.”

Now both brows shoot up to his stark widow’s peak. His face convulses strangely for a second, then he suddenly bursts out laughing. He doubles over holding his stomach. My blush reaches my ears.

“Nevermind,” I grumble.

I turn to leave, but a slender fingered hand grabs my shoulder. I stop, mostly from the jolt his touch sends through my system.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, laughing toned down. “How can I help?

I sigh, but still turn back to him. “I’m trying to get to Amsterdam and West 114th but my phone’s dead and I’ve never been in this area before and I’m obviously not a local and I just moved here like a month ago. So...I’m lost.”

“But, the streets are numbered.” His eyebrow furrow is so fucking cute. (Wait, no, focus Simon!)

“You’d be surprised at my ability to get turned around.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his thin lip. “Understood. That’s Columbia, right? I know how to get there. It’s not that far. I’ll walk you.”

“Oh! No! You don’t have to. I mean, I don’t want to ruin your night.”

He waves his hand dismisvely. “I’m bored anyway. And I don’t want to risk you getting my directions then turning to the opposite way. C’mon, I need to get my coat.”

He motions me to follow, and strangely enough, I do. We squeeze through the bustling, sweaty crowd. The man bobs and weaves like a slinky snake. His body is so lithe, it’s incredible. We end up at the actual entrance, which has a coat check. Strange Man talks to the attractive behind the counter. He’s all smooth looks and easy words. I sort of envy him.

I expect the coat guy to hand him a fine wool jacket, or some versace coat (do they make coats?) But to my utter shock, he’s handed a puffy bright green ski coat. It’s not ugly per se. Just, kind of normal. This guy looks some seductive romance novel vampire. People like that aren’t supposed to wear a coat with ripped seams that squeezes his waist to make him look like a green Michelin Man. He leaves a tip for the coat guy and signals for me to follow. I scurry up to him.

“C’mon,” he says cheerily, “let’s go.”

We walk past a very intimidating bouncer and back out into the frigid New York air. Mystery man lets out a long exhale, breath clouding in front of his face. He motions for me to follow him up the street. It’s a bit difficult to keep up with his long legs.

“So,” I say after a long stretch of silence, “do you have a name?”

He flicks his grey eyes over to me. “Yes. Would you like to hear it?”

Okay, so he’s a total smartarse. Why do I find that frustrating yet attractive? “Sure, if you feel up to it,” I deadpan.

He smirks, chuckling slightly. “I’m Baz. And you are?”

“Simon, Simon Snow.”

“Hm. Interesting name.” His tone is shows the slightest twinge of interest. It makes my heart stutter a bit. “So how did you end up accidentally wandering into a gay nightclub?”

I look at the ground sheepishly. “Uh, I was out with my friends at some karaoke place. They offered to give me a ride but their place is in the opposite direction, so I said I could go on my own. But then my phone died, so I just wandered into the closest place with people. Hence...”

“Hence the gay nightclub.”

I shrug. “Yeah. Not my smartest move.”

He shrugs too. It’s somehow more graceful than mine. “Well, you found me. So I’d say it was a pretty smart move.”

I flick my eyes over to him, just for a moment. His smile is only slight, but it’s there. I turn away again, too embarrassed to keep looking at him.

“Why were you in the club?” I ask quickly, aching to fill the even brief silence.

Baz sighs and kicks the sidewalk with his polished boot. “My stupid friend/roommate's idea. He keeps pestering me to go out and meet someone. I finally snapped and said I’d go to this club tonight if he’d stop bugging me.”

“Oh. Sorry for taking you away from it...”

He waves dismissively again, the exact same motion as earlier. “I told you, I was bored. No one there interested me. I’d much rather be home with my books.”

That catches my attention. Books? Movie vampire guy loves books? I thought he’d spend his time practicing smoldering expressions in the mirror. “You a bookworm?”

“That’s what Niall calls me. He says my library puts Oxford and Cambridge to shame.”

“What do you read?”

He sighs noncommittally. “Lots of stuff, I guess. Mostly historical texts though. I like English language development, how it evolved over time. Just a hobby though.”

Wow, what a hobby, I think immediately. He reminds me way too much of Penny. Learning weird shit just for fun. I just stick to what I’m good at, never straying from my numbers. But he tries different things. I find it just as admirable in him as I do in her. Maybe just a bit more, because I don’t find Penelope unbelievably attractive. (65% straight, tops).

We walk past a raised cement beam. Out of habit, I jump up to walk on it. (I always take an opportunity to jump around. Penny calls me a child.) Baz looks at me strangely. But I like being up here. It gives me a better view of him.

“So,” I say dragging out the vowel. “You’re English like me, right?”

He raises a brow. (He seems to be really good at that.) “Accent gave that away huh?”

I roll my eyes like Penny does.“Oh shut up, you know what I mean. Where are you from in England?”

“Hampshire, originally. You?”

“London. I came here for school.”

“I did as well. You go to Columbia, right? Or we’re walking to the wrong campus.”

I chuckle and look away nervously. “Uh, yeah. For maths.”

“Wow, impressive. That’s a tough program to get into.”

I turn back to him. His eyes are wide with genuine impressed awe, one lip corner quirked up in a smile. My cheeks feel hot. I hope I’m not too red. “T-Thanks. It's difficult but, interesting.”

"I'm glad to hear.

I reach the end of the beam and jump down, swinging around a lamp pole. I land right in front of him and stumble on a crack on the sidewalk. Suddenly, he catches me, hands clasping both my forearms. He looks at me wide eyed, now loose black strands falling in front of them. (The hair gel isn’t that strong I guess.) The sensation of his touch shoots up my nerves so quickly and intensely I nearly fall again. Before I do, I pull away, walking next to him again. Though I think we’re a little closer. Not sure if he’s moved towards me or I’ve moved towards him

“Where do you go?” I ask, voice rapid and even more nervous.

Baz bites at his lip anxiously. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

My brow pinches together, mouth turning into a confused frown. “...alright?”

He looks at the ground, like I have many times tonight. “I...go to Juilliard.”

Oh. My. God. My jaw practically hits the floor. “Holy shit!”

“You promised not to freak out,” he groans, head rolling back

“You didn’t warn me it was fucking Juilliard! Are you like, a super talented actor? Or a future Broadway dancer?” I try not to imagine Baz in a tight black leotard (it’s very difficult).

Baz chuckles, shaking his head back and forth. “Nothing that exciting, sorry. I go there for music.”

“What do you play?”

“Violin.”

Strangely, I can see it. Baz with the instrument under his chin and stretched out across his long arm. Dragging the bow across the strings, grey eyes closed in concentration, humming along to the tune...

“Simon? Hello?”

I’m snapped out my stupid day dream. Baz is looking at me very confused. I turn away, hoping to hide the blush I know is increasing on my cheeks.

“That sounds really cool, actually.”

“Really?”

“Y-Yeah, really. Violin is fucking hard.”

“Thanks. Few people say that.”

I can’t help but smile, and neither can he apparently.

He cups his hands around his mouth and breathes out, air misting through his fingers. “This city is too fucking cold,” he mutters. He reaches into his coat pockets and draws out a pair of garishly orange knitted mittens. They have large holes in them where their maker dropped stitches. Baz notices me staring at them.

“What?” He says.

“Oh, uh, just...your gloves are...interesting.”

He giggles (fucking giggles, holy shit). “Yeah, I know. My younger sister made them for me before I left. To keep me warm. She’s only 7 though, so knitting her skills aren’t exactly perfect. The sentiment is what’s important though. Wearing them reminds me of her.”

What kind of guy wears shitty mittens made by his little sister just because he misses her? A perfect one, I think. (40% straight at most.) “That’s actually quite sweet.”

“Why thank you” he chuckles. “Do you have any siblings?”

My shoulders droop. “No. I...I don’t know who my parents are. Proper little orphan Annie here.”

“Oh. I’m very sorry.”

The look of pity on his face makes my heart hurt, but not in a good way. I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. I shrug all the way up to my ears. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Don’t need parents. Got my own little family now.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

I sigh, catching a pole and swinging around it far too dramatically. I need to stop for a second, gather my head. Baz stops too, looking at me curiously. “I mean, I’ve got friends who are way better than whoever abandoned me. Penelope, her boyfriend, Micah, Agatha, they care about me and I care about them. And Penny says family isn’t who your related to but who you love. So they’re my family, I guess. Closest I’ve got. Don’t need blood relations.”

I lift my head up from the ground. Baz is no longer looking at me with pity. I’m not sure how he’s looking now. Something between confusion, wonder, and...maybe admiration. I hope it’s admiration. I may be projecting though.

I let go of the pole, shoving my hands in my pockets and keeping my head down. “I-I don’t know, it’s dumb.”

“No,” Baz says firmly. “I don’t think so. It makes sense.”

I look up, just slightly. His grin is soft, caring and understanding. But it’s not small and sort of hidden like before. It’s wide and obvious and meant for me. If my blush was bad before it must be raging now.

“Thanks,” I say quietly.

We resume walking again. I don’t stoop as much. We stay in comfortable silence, but I sneak glances at Baz. His hair is completely loose now and falling in his face with a bit of a wave. It looks better actually. Makes him look more human, less out-of-reach gorgeous.

Just as we round a corner, I spot something familiar. A big ridiculous statue on top of a building glass building.

“Hey!” I say excitedly. “I know that thing! We’re really close.”

Baz squints at where I’m pointing, frowning in the most adorable way possible. “Ugh, I can’t see it. Hang on.”

He opens his coat and reaches into the inside pocket. To my utter astonishment, he pulls out a pair of rectangle wireframe glasses. Like that of a university professor or a librarian. Once he puts them on, he stops squinting. They rest on his long nose perfectly. And now Baz has made full transition from mysterious sexy club goer to violin playing, adorable little sister having, puffy coat wearing, language history nerd. Yet somehow, I like him even more than I did at first.

“Huh,” Baz says, “you’re right. I know it too. We just have to go through that gate across the street.” He turns to me and sees my slack mouthed expression. His brows push together adorably. “What? Is something wrong with my face?”

“Uh, no! It’s just...you wear glasses?”

He takes them off quickly. “Yeah. Well, I’m supposed to. I don’t usually though. I’m near sighted, so I can usually get away without them. They just make me look so bloody dorky.”

“I don’t think so,” I blurt out, immediately dropping my gaze to my feet. “I-I don’t think they look dorky. They look...nice. On you.”

I flick my eyes up quickly, just enough to catch the grin pulling at both sides of his lips.

“You flatter me too much,” he says in a slightly self deprecating tone.

“Only cause it’s true,” I reply quietly.

Baz spins the spectacles in his hands for a second, and instead of putting them back in his coat, he slides them up onto his forehead. Not exactly on his face but close. It’s actually quite cute. Like he’s a messy haired student. Which...I guess he is. Even if he’s a fancy Juilliard student.

Past the gate, we enter the Columbia campus. It’s beautiful, even at night. I like it. It’s greener than the rest of this glass and concrete city.

“Hey this is my building,” I say, grabbing Baz’s sleeve to stop him.

We freeze in front the lawn. Across the manicured grass is South Lawn, where they put all first year students. It’s huge and block-like and gorgeous. It reminds me of the Georgian buildings in England. Baz flips down his glasses and looks at it in awe, making a little whistle.

“Wow,” he whispers. “I’ve heard of Columbia buildings, but...wow”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Pretty neat.”

“Understatement of the century, Snow.” He puts his glasses back, looking down at me with a nervous smile. “So, I guess this is your stop.”

I shuffle my feet, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah. Should probably get up there before my ro-”

Quick as lightning, Baz leans to my left and kisses my cheek. It’s so soft and light I barely feel it. Like a cool brush of wind against my skin. But my face still goes beet red. I look up. Baz resembles a terrified deer in the headlights, eyelids completely pulled back and lips hanging open.

“I-I, uh-,” he stutters out quietly. “Sorry. That was completely inappropriate. We’ve only just met, I just, I got caught up in the moment, and I guess I just decided to go for it. But I’m sorry that was-”

“You missed.” For once, my words are clear and precise. Baz’s sinking head snaps up, looking even more terrified than before.

“W-what did you say?”

I take a step closer to him. We’re barely a foot apart. I can feel his hot nervous breath on my skin. “You missed. Try a little more to my right this time, okay?”

Red darkens his lovely cheeks like a bashful schoolboy. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” I step even closer, tilting my head slightly to the side. “Seriously.”

He leans down, eyes fluttering shut. I stand on my toes, and we meet halfway.

His lips are soft and cool, lightly pressed against mine. It’s probably the most chaste kiss I’ve ever experienced. Yet I can feel it in every nerve in my body. Baz’s hand brushes against mine, and I move to hold it firmly. His other cups my cheek, thumb tracing over the skin. Our lips part slightly and slot together. And it just feels too right.

I pull back, as does Baz. I don’t want to get myself too worked up on a first date. (Is this a first date? Fuck if I know.) His eyes open only halfway. And his cheeks are so red they’d put Disney princesses to shame. I grin at him, and he grins back. I hold my open hand in front of him.

“Gimme your mobile,” I say. He raises an eyebrow. I sigh exasperatedly. “Look, I’d give you mine to put your number in, but as I mentioned before, it’s dead. So give me your’s so you can contact me again. That’s what you want right?”

His brow falls and his mouth forms an “o” shape. “Yeah, yeah of course.” He rummages in his pocket and pulls out a pristine white iPhone. Once unlocked, he hands it to me. “Here”

I giggle at his background. (It’s a violin pun). Quickly, I enter in my number under “Directionless Moron”, then give it to him. He throws his head back laughing at the contact name.

“Call me,” I say. “Or text me. Just...something me.”

Baz chuckles. “Don’t worry, I will. I definitely want to see you again.”

My grin threatens to split my face in half. I squeeze his hand. “Same here. Goodnight for now, Baz.”

“Goodnight, Simon.”

I walk off down the lawn. Just as I reach the door, I take one last look back. Baz is still standing there. He’s got his glasses on. I realise it’s so he can see me get into the building. To make sure I’m okay, or maybe just watch me. I give one last wave. He waves back. I practically skip the rest of my way to my room.

Man, what an incredible night.

AN: Hope you enjoyed it! Tbh Baz in glasses is my aesthetic so that's they it keeps showing up in my AUs. Honestly he'd look so good in them. Anyway, this was a lot of fun and I hope you all liked it :D

#carry on #snowbaz #snowbaz fanfiction #simon snow #baz pitch #normal au #fluff #mysnowbazfic

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