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#bunce legacy
facewithoutheart · 2 years
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the vibe is bittersweet, the number is 3, and the character who is not simon or baz is penelope bunce. give me a prompt babyyy
Trope: Rivals to Lovers.
Christina adds: but how do they fuck?
It’s been a bitter battle to the final, and the clock is counting down. But it’s not the score that matters, not to Baz, who made Simon promise that, win or lose, they’ll walk out of this arena as strangers.
Not lovers like they’ve become, not rivals like they used to be.
Worse than having had Simon and not having him again is the promise that they’ll become nothing to each other when the final buzzer sounds.
It’s not like Baz wants this, despite the fact it’s his terms to which Simon agreed. It’s just… Baz’s career can’t take another hit. It’s not actually a sign you’ve made it when you’ve got PR legend Penelope Bunce on speed dial. It’s a sign you’ve fucked up your mother’s legacy so irreparably that you’ll have to break the heart of the man you’ve come to love for just the chance of gaining back the public’s sympathy.
As they stare at each other over the line, Baz begs Simon with his eyes to read his mind. To give him a reason to call off his own plan.
To win, under terms he can’t even begin to imagine.
“Save me,” Baz pleads, silently. Desperately.
The whistle blows.
The game is on.
It’s anyone’s guess as to how the sordid mess will end.
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normallyxstranger · 1 year
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Fictober22 (@fictober-event) Day 17 — "Are you serious?"
featuring Adam Lowell & Lang Maddox — characters from The New Ashton Chronicles, written & role-played by F.R. Southerland (@normallyxstranger | @frsoutherlandauthor | www.frsoutherland.com) © October 2022
original fiction
general warnings: death mention
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     Adam thought he’d never see these boxes again—or, more accurately, he never thought he’d see the stuff in these boxes again. For a moment, he could only stare down at the mess of papers and books and photographs. Did his mother know about this? She should. This stuff was hers, right? Or was it his now? 
     A thousand thoughts fought for dominance in his head, along with almost as many emotions. Surprise, that these momentos were still around. Anger, because he never knew. Sadness, at what it meant.
     He let out a breath, stepping away from the boxes and wiped at his nose. The dust from the storage locker irritated his sensitive nose, bringing on the urge to sneeze. Somehow, he managed to hold it off, giving a great sniff. A mouse—or several mice—had died here. He’d have to find them, clean them out. He’d have to clean this whole thing out. Why his mother had pushed this off onto him was messed up. Maybe she knew these boxes were here. Maybe she knew what he’d find and wanted to spare herself the emotional turmoil. Ignore obligation.
     And that made him angry too. She’d leave him to it, to handle his father’s legacy.
     The man had left when Adam was barely old enough to remember him, taking off with a younger woman, forming a new pack, even fathering another son. Not a day went by that he didn’t think what might’ve been, dealing with the confusing, conflicting emotions that came with it. Even twenty-some years later, he was left wondering. 
     The anger he felt toward his father had tapered off into a sort of sadness, which proved to be the strongest thing he felt right now toward the man he hardly knew. 
     He gave a sigh and picked up the topmost box, shifting it to check the ones beneath it. He’d just torn the packing tape off of it when he heard soft footfalls at the storage unit’s metal gate. Lang’s familiar scent followed. Adam turned for half a second to see him there, and smiled before turning back.
     “Hey.”
    “Hey,” Lang answered, taking shuffling steps into the storage unit. “Smells like something died.”
     “Mice, I think. I’ll get to it.” Adam pushed some of the bigger boxes aside to make room for his half-brother. “I found something.” 
     Maybe, he thought, it just might be something Lang could use. As much as Adam lamented the shortcomings of his parents and his father’s absence, he knew his brother got screwed even worse. Their father died before he was born and Lang’s mom a few years later. Lang had been an orphan, with no ties to their pack or any other wolves—until Adam had decided to track down his father and found him. And now—now he had connections and family, and Adam had found a sort of peace and calm with his tumultuous emotions.
     Lang didn’t have that. Not yet. 
     There really was no need to consider it for too long. “I found something,” he said again, gesturing to the open box. 
     “What is it?”
     “Some stuff of Dad’s. Some papers. Books. Pictures.” 
     Lang’s dark eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”
     “Yeah.” He stepped aside to make room for him. “I didn’t know this stuff was here. I think it was stuff my mom put away after he left. Stuff she didn’t want around any more. Stuff that was uh too painful to have around.”
     “Yeah,” Lang said, reverently reaching for some of the photos. “I get that. It’s something I would probably do too.” He went quiet as he studied one of the pictures. “I only ever saw one picture of him that my mom had. And I don’t know what happened to it after she died. I forgot what he looked like.”
     He looked a bit like both of them—the same blond hair, but with Adam’s blue eyes and Lang’s wide smile. Flipping through the bunch, Lang found one of just their dad, standing in front of a tree, dressed in blue jeans and a flannel shirt, beer in hand. Casual and happy.
     “Can I—can I have this one?”
     The question wasn’t necessary. The answer would have always been ‘yes’. Adam smiled. “Take it. It’s yours.”
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forabeatofadrum · 1 year
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There is nothing ironic about show choir (7/30)
Notes: Natasha who, idk her!
AO3
Prompt: Veil
BAZ
Madam Bellamy looks like she’s seen a ghost.
Truly.
The Veil has lifted and I think her husband came back from the dead?
I’m not expecting anyone to Visit me, to be honest. Yes, my mother got killed, but she has no more unfinished business, especially now that the Mage is dead. In my third year the Coven decided to reach out to other creatures in order to work together. That’s also why it’s safe for me to be an open vampire and I am not the only creature at Watford. (Rutaceae has a goblin!)
In the third year it also became clear that he sent the vampires that killed her and Turned me.
Honestly, all I can think of is that she’d come back to talk about Vitis. My mother was part of the previous Watford show choir when she was in school. Even as a headmistress she’d visit the rehearsals. When the Mage ended choir, among other things, that part of her legacy got erased as well.
I am bringing it back.
This is my last year and I want to win Nationals with me leading Vitis.
And I have a plan.
It’s kind of backhanded, but I will do what I must.
Madam Bellamy is definitely in a weird mood, so I see my chance.
“Madam?” I approach her after rehearsal.
“Oh, Basilton…” she says when she sees me.
“Madam, have you already thought about the setlist for Sectionals?” I ask. So far we’ve been doing small numbers and vocal practises.
“No,” Madam Bellamy says shortly. She’s really in a weird mood. She looks at me but she isn’t really seeing me. I’d feel bad for taking advantage of the situation, but she flat out ignored me for six years, so I don’t care.
I smile.
“Can I make a suggestion…”
--
“Original songs?” Agatha asks.
I nod.
“Have you been watching glee again?”
I roll my eyes.
“I didn’t get this idea from that TV show,” I huff out. Everyone in choir has watched glee. We’ve had glee watch parties, but that’s also why Rutaceae and Vitis call themselves show choir, not glee clubs, even though they’re the same.
“Sure,” Agatha says with a smile.
Although I genuinely didn’t take it from glee, Agatha does have a point. I suggested original songs in order to have an advantage over Rutaceae. That’s what I am reminded of when I see Simon and Penelope Bunce walk on the Great Lawn.
Our eyes meet and he stops in his tracks. Penelope rolls her eyes and she tries to drag him away, but we keep staring at him. I give him a crooked smile. Next to me, Agatha lets out a huge sigh.
“Vitis will reign supreme, Agga,” I say, “Good thing you switched.”
“Whatever,” she mutters.
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wickedslashdivine · 1 year
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Your hl oc is absolutely beautiful and she looks amazing! Can you tell us more about her?
Aww thank you!
Well I'm still kind of actively creating her as I go lol, but I'm going with the Hogwarts Legacy, Ancient Magic user lore for sure.
I. think she can't be a Pureblood because she came to Hogwarts so damn late, so she's a late bloomer and because of that she absolutely feels the POC Pressure™️ to be the absolute best in class and somehow she became Popular as shit in doing so.
She's kinda snooty, very proud of her magic and her house, fiercely loyal to the people she lets into her circle but that's pretty hard to do. She's pretty much a Black cat in a human's body lol. If you just passed her by you'd think she was just mean girl but she's actually sensitive as shit and pretty cool once you get to know her.
She likes to roast her friends out of love and so she really goes in on Garreth, even she would not know what to do with herself if he ever stopped bothering her. She and Garrreth are very Cece And Schmidt coded lol.
She tends to hang with her housemates the most, had a predictable crush on Sebastian but the events of year 5 kinda put a bad taste in her mouth about him romantically. Ominis is a bestie, along with Imelda and Natty.
Inspo:
Cece Parekh
Cordelia Chase
Isis from Bring It On
Penelope Bunce and Baz Pitch from the Carry On series.
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wlwmorganfyres · 2 years
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i cant remember if i said they moved to mt komorebi but..... olly and tiger moved to mt komorebi for their last semester!
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cabin13counselor · 3 years
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Do you ever think about how when Baz said "Because we match" that he was talking about how Simon and him are both tragedies. And then start thinking about how Baz is literally the Watford Tragedy, and everything that happened in that tower will probably go down in the history books as Watford Tragedy 2: Electric Boogaloo. They are both Watford's Tragedies.
Yeah, me neither
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carryonbydefault · 6 years
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carry-on-big-bang · 4 years
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under the milky way
Author: @the-clueless-philosopher​
Artist: @beckettillustrations​
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply.
Tags: High School AU, Writer! Baz, Space Nerd! Simon, Mystery, Political Intrigue, Author! Natasha Pitch, Simon Adopted by the Bunces, Mild Homophobia, Some Internalized Homophobia.
Summary: Simon Snow Salisbury and Baz Grimm-Pitch attend Watford Highschool in the small town of Watford. Simon loves his adopted sister Penelope Bunce, his mom’s library, and space. Baz dreams of being a novelist like his mother, Natasha Grimm-Pitch, the unpublished former town sweetheart. After an incident involving a pride pin and a homophobic teacher, the two of come to an unsteady truce and work together to preserve the legacy of Natasha Pitch, and to make their own legacies.
Word Count: 22992.
Art:
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ao3feed-snowbaz · 4 years
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Fairy Tales (and Other Irrefutable Truths)
https://ift.tt/2YZt0fG
by thedeepestdaydream
The Lost Prince of Watford was nothing but a legend, a fairy tale.
Lord Basilton Grimm-Pitch was much too old for fairy tales. He has more substantial matters to attend to, like preparing to run the country as the next in line for the throne in the prince's absence. But then The Lost Prince returns, unknowingly foiling Baz's plans and stealing his heart in the process. As he and his father plot to to steal the throne, Baz tries his best to honour both his father's wishes and his mother's legacy while desperately trying to ignore his feelings for Simon Snow, the fairy tale made real.
Simon, meanwhile, is trying to meet the expectations of his new-found country, his people, and his friends, all while learning to walk and talk like the prince he apparently is. Not only that, but now he's expected to marry before he can take the crown he isn't even sure he's ready for.
It wouldn't be nearly as bad if Baz wasn't so infuriatingly distracting with all of his plotting...
***
A Princess Diaries 2 AU because why the hell not, right?
Words: 2394, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce, Mitali Bunce, Malcolm Grimm
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Additional Tags: princess diaries 2 au, Alternate Universe - Princess Diaries Fusion, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Modern Royalty, Watford is Genovia, Prince Simon Snow, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Oblivious Simon Snow, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Mutual Pining, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Plotting, Mentions of Past Homelessness, Orphan Simon Snow, Angst, Because it wouldn't be me without it, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happily Ever Afters, because i'm a sucker for them, Rated T for Simon's Potty Mouth
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2YZt0fG
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ao3feed-carryon · 4 years
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by thedeepestdaydream
The Lost Prince of Watford was nothing but a legend, a fairy tale.
Lord Basilton Grimm-Pitch was much too old for fairy tales. He has more substantial matters to attend to, like preparing to run the country as the next in line for the throne in the prince's absence. But then The Lost Prince returns, unknowingly foiling Baz's plans and stealing his heart in the process. As he and his father plot to to steal the throne, Baz tries his best to honour both his father's wishes and his mother's legacy while desperately trying to ignore his feelings for Simon Snow, the fairy tale made real.
Simon, meanwhile, is trying to meet the expectations of his new-found country, his people, and his friends, all while learning to walk and talk like the prince he apparently is. Not only that, but now he's expected to marry before he can take the crown he isn't even sure he's ready for.
It wouldn't be nearly as bad if Baz wasn't so infuriatingly distracting with all of his plotting...
***
A Princess Diaries 2 AU because why the hell not, right?
Words: 2394, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce, Mitali Bunce, Malcolm Grimm
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Additional Tags: princess diaries 2 au, Alternate Universe - Princess Diaries Fusion, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Modern Royalty, Watford is Genovia, Prince Simon Snow, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Oblivious Simon Snow, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Mutual Pining, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Plotting, Mentions of Past Homelessness, Orphan Simon Snow, Angst, Because it wouldn't be me without it, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happily Ever Afters, because i'm a sucker for them, Rated T for Simon's Potty Mouth
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forabeatofadrum · 2 years
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l'amor che move (il sole e l'altre stelle) - epilogue
Notes: And here we are, we’ve reached the end. Don’t mind me. There’s something in my eyes. It’s tears!
AO3
2017
BAZ
Simon Snow saved the World of Mages and no one will ever know.
When The Mage went missing in September 2016, the World of Mages fell apart. He’d been in total control for so long. The Mage Men scoured every part of the World of Mages, they spit through all his private diaries to check his whereabouts, they raided many homes.
They don’t know that their glorious leader is buried in an unmarked grave on a mountain near Brescia.
Dr. Wellbelove, of all people, is the one who took action. After six months of political disarray and instability, he suggested that the Coven should have a re-election. An honest one, for the first time in almost two decades. Mitali Bunce and the underground resistance had spent those six months trying to find all the dirt on The Mage and his most loyal followers, including the ones in the Coven.
Let’s just say that I’m glad that I didn’t live in England during that time. I heard that the trial against her eldest son was brutal. The Mage was never an outright violent dictator, but that doesn’t mean that he and his Mage Men didn’t commit crimes towards the World of Mages. Some people who opposed him disappeared. (People are finally saying out loud why they disappeared.)
In late March 2017, The Mage was declared dead and Mitali Bunce was appointed the head of the Coven through elections. She immediately dropped all discriminatory laws against the Old Families and my aunt Fiona now works with Coven to prosecute Magelings who are complicit to the disappearances. According to Daphne, the two of them have a friendly work relation. Fiona’s gone from distrusting Mitali Bunce to almost admiring her. It’s quite interesting.
Some of The Mage’s policies on anti-elitism are being continued, and without a dictatorship to uphold them, the World of Mages will hopefully be more fair and equal. Mitali’s daughter, Penelope Bunce, is head of Creature Relations, a new department that tries to equalise and unify mages with other magickal species.
(I don’t really know how that happened, but Agatha told me that Penelope Bunce fucked off to America after Watford and she fell in love with a creature loving Normal.) (Penelope Bunce is a mystery.)
Dr. Wellbelove retired from the Coven, now that his work was done. The only reason he was ever on the Coven was to take down The Mage from the inside, and now The Mage is gone. Turns out that he wasn’t naïve, but an active spy for the anti-Mage resistance. Dr. Wellbelove now expands his medical work. Martin Bunce’s research is still ongoing. A lot of new dead spots appeared one day but then it just stopped and no one knows why, but there’s also hope that the magic will return one day. Miss Possibelf became the new Headmistress of Watford and she’s turning it into a proper school again, instead of a training camp for future soldiers.
The World of Mages is so much more better and safer for me than before, but I opted to stay in Salò with Simon.
No one back there knows what really happened. Simon, Ms. Snow and I have all kept our mouths shut. I didn’t tell my family, even though Fiona keeps saying that she wants to personally congratulate the person who offed The Mage. (She’s one of the few people that believe that someone killed The Mage.) (Which means she’s one of the few people that’s right.). I didn’t tell Agatha, even though her father is now one of the faces of the progressive anti-Mage politics and the new era of peace.
Let The Mage and his legacy die in a mysterious and dishonouring way.
Maybe one day the truth will come out.
After all – and I hate to say this – but The Mage was right about one thing. The Greatest Mage prophecy has always been real. Simon was the Chosen One and he stopped the greatest threat to magic. Only The Mage didn’t know that he was the greatest threat to magic.
Simon Snow.
The love of my life.
He killed his dad and he sacrificed his magic to save his mum. After a year I’ve gotten used to it. I still remember what it felt like to be around Simon and all that power, but Simon’s still Simon. It took him quite some time to work through it, but he’s at peace with himself. Interestingly enough, he doesn’t miss doing magic. I can’t imagine that, but as Simon would say, I always think with my wand. He grew up as a Normal, so he’s never gotten used to doing magic when there’s also a Normal alternative and he hated doing magic.
The thing that hit him wasn’t doing magic, but having magic. He’s slowly gotten used to the empty feeling that he now carries around all the time.
“I suppose it’s similar to losing one of your senses,” Simon once said to me, “You don’t actively think about something like your hearing or your sight, but you have it. It’s there all the time. And then one day it’s gone and you have to readjust your life, but it doesn’t make life any less worthy or great.”
In fact, he insists that he misses feeling my and Ms. Snow’s magic more than that he misses feeling his own magic.
“You two felt like home to me.”
Sometimes he dreams that he still has it, but there’s never magic leaking from him. There’s no supernova in his chest. His bracelet is a Normal bracelet now. (To him, I can still feel the magic from the bracelet. It’s just no longer bound to Simon’s, since there’s nothing left to bind to.). He gave it all away.
He saved his mum and killed his dad.
He killed The Mage.
And now he’s killing our kitchen. What happens after you saved an entire world? You sign up for a cooking class.
--
SIMON
“Fuck,” I grumble. How am I ever going to get this linguine allo scoglio right? I know that I’ve become better at cooking, but I have challenged myself with this one. I’ve never prepared anything with seafood before.
After everything that happened last summer, I needed to do something to take my mind off of things. The first month was a disaster. I spent most of my time taking out my anger on my mum and Baz. I was a terrible son and boyfriend, but they sticked around.
I just didn’t know what to do with myself.
How do you go on from killing your own dad? Yes, he was a bad man and yes, I never really knew him, but I still killed someone. My dad.
Baz still blamed himself for it, no matter how many times I told him that he shouldn’t. If he hadn’t come to Salò, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have learnt about magic and my dad wouldn’t have tracked us down.
Honestly, it was hard for us to be together. We’d gone from a loving and strong relationship to two ghosts that darted around each other. We wanted each other, but we were so messed up after it all. We tried to carry on, but it was difficult in the beginning.
My mum is the one who helped us out.
She’s also changed by what happened. How can she not? But she’s more at peace than ever, now that she doesn’t have to fear my dad anymore.
But yeah, mum is the one who suggested that I needed to do something. I signed up for a cooking class, since I love food and it’s a shame that none of us is decent in the kitchen. My mum still breaks her spaghetti, so she still isn’t allowed in.
Baz also signed up for a class: an Italian class. I mean, I was a fucking terrible Italian teacher, so it’s for the best.
Slowly, we were able to move on and heal from what happened. It still stings. I still have nightmares about my mum’s body in the woods, or about my dad’s skin peeling off and his eye hanging out of its socket, or about Baz spelled to the ground in that shed, or about when my dad hugged me and I wanted to crawl out of my skin, but I am working on giving it a place. I think it’s working.
What’s definitely not working is this stupid linguine allo scoglio.
“Fuck!” I yell out again. It’s my go-to swearword for cooking mishaps.
“I thought this cooking thing was supposed to be therapeutic.”
Baz is standing behind him. I didn’t feel him coming closer. I used to recognise my mum and Baz everywhere, even before I knew I had magic, but that is all gone. I’m fine with not being a mage. I’d lived most of my life as a Normal anyway. I am more than okay with no longer being the powerful mage from the storybooks. I was shit at magic. I only excelled at basic spells anyway. Although sometimes I miss the way his magic used to feel. It felt like home.
Maybe in another lifetime I’d be more devastated by losing my magic, but I don’t live in that lifetime. I lived most of my life without (intentionally) using magic, so I am fine. Yes, I miss some little things, like Death by chocolate, but Baz can still do those spells for me, especially now that I moved in with him. Still, overall I think that giving up my magic was one of the best things that happened in my life, together with meeting Baz. Once I was at peace with it, I realised how much at peace I was in general.
I ask Baz to spell my food.
“Love, food spells are wonky,” he says with a smile. He knows that I know that. “Besides, what’s the point of you doing something with your hands if I spell it all for you?”
“This dish has to be perfect, Baz!” I say. It’s true. I am practising for a special occasion.
“You have two more weeks before they come to Salò, Snow. Two more weeks to perfect this linguine allo scoglio. Also, they really won’t mind if it isn’t perfect. They’re more excited about finally meeting you.”
I groan in frustration. It’s true. I am meeting my grandmother and uncle for the first time in my life and I am nervous. I’m channelling all that nervosity in this damn dish. My mum’s been in London for a month, reconnecting with her friends and family. With my dad declared dead, it’s safe for us to go back. She’ll come back to Salò in two weeks with my family in tow.
I didn’t join her. I wanted to give my mum the time and peace to do this for herself.
I have two more weeks to prepare, and I have two more weeks alone with Baz.
“Snow, please wrap it up,” Baz says, “You have enough time. And we have to leave in an hour.”
Yes, two more weeks alone with Baz and we’re going to use that time wisely.
I give in under the condition that Baz spells the kitchen clean, because I have made a huge mess.
An hour later, I’m driving us to San Felice del Benaco. The windows are rolled down and Baz’s hair is flying in the wind. He’s growing it out and it looks incredible. Baz sings along with the annoying radio jingle, but I don’t mind.
We’re going to explore the town and then we’ll rent another boat. It’s been a year since our first trip on the Lago di Garda and we thought it’d be nice to do it again, but to visit other places in the area. You’d think that after a year we would’ve visited them all, but no, we travelled to other places in Italy. (Baz loved the outlets in Toscana. He bought a lot of Gucci.) (I still think Gucci’s ugly.) (It’s a secret I’ll take with me to my grave.)
I am focusing on the road, but when the light is red, I look to my side when I feel Baz’s hand on mine.
He gives me a big smile.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I say back.
Who would’ve thought that his arrival in Salò would change my life so much? Yes, we’ve had rough times in the past year, but we’re still here. We’re still together.
Two weeks. He’s going to be all mine for these two weeks. He’s hopefully going to be mine forever.
The light turns green. I accelerate. He’s still holding my hand.
We arrive at San Felice del Benaco. It’s a very small place and the only reason that we’re here is because it’s cheaper to rent a boat here. (Baz told me that he can magickally counterfeit money, but that that’s not recommended.)
The weather is divine. There’s barely any wind (although Baz still has to spell his big sunhat.) (Yes, he still has the sunhat!) and the water of the lake is as beautiful as ever. I’m the one steering now, but Baz’s stood next to me to take over if needed. He is touching my back lightly.
Steering a boat at high speed is fucking amazing.
Baz looks at me with a big smile on his face. I know I should be looking ahead of me, but I steal a small glance.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you too,” he says back.
We’re cruising on Lago di Garda. I may or may not have made some vroom vroom noises. We pass Salò on our way to Moderno, which is our first stop for this trip. The city looks beautiful from this perspective.
Salò.
The place to be. Our place forever.
--
End notes: And that’s a wrap on Paradiso 1. I still can’t believe this fic happened. I got a random idea and I wrote a 70K+ words fic in a month, which in turn became a trilogy. It was quite a ride and I want to thank you all for coming with me, especially the subscibers and the frequent commenters. And I want to once again thank Marta for supplying me with the necessary Italian knowledge. Folks, it’s hard to write a story set in a country you don’t know much about.
I created a post with some photo’s of all the places that Simon and Baz visited in this story. I also created a post with all the personal easter eggs that I’ve hidden in the story. Oh, and here’s the placeholder titles for the chapters.
Thank you all for reading, and if you feel like it, you can join me for the upcoming sequel, which takes place in 2019 and without giving too much away, it’s going to be about the Italian magickal community, Shepard Bunce being an amazing friend, and Simon and Baz (especially Baz) trying to find peace with who they are.
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thewesterndoor · 5 years
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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow Characters: Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce, The Mage (Simon Snow), Fiona Pitch Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Swords & Sorcery, Omega Verse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Baz, Alpha Simon, Knotting, Blood Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Demons, Action/Adventure, Eventual Smut, I'm Going to Hell, The thirst is real, Aged-Up Character(s) Summary:
Simon Snow lives on the edge of a knife, waiting for the one wrong move that will finally throw him into the abyss. With his alpha urges barely contained and his magic unmanageable the last thing he needs is a job from the Mage, but Simon can’t afford to say no. The job is simple enough but a chance encounter with a cold and calculating omega leaves Simon reeling and pulled into a mystery that has haunted the town of Watford for over a decade.
As heir to the Grimms and the Pitches, Baz was never supposed to be an omega. He might’ve been forgiven not being born an alpha if a childhood attack hadn’t also left him as a living vampire. Instead he’s only a liability, hidden away in the countryside, with any freedom hard won, but a threat to his mother’s legacy has him risking it all. This brings him face to face with Simon, an alpha who just might be capable of tearing apart Baz’s careful world. Does he dare trust the alpha who is working for the very man destroying Watford? And can Baz allow himself to give into his hunger?
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wlwmorganfyres · 3 years
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gay people!
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The 4 Times Baz Tried to Say I Love You and the One Time He Actually Did
This was inspired by the Carry On Countdown day 24  prompt ‘ways to say i love you’, but life got in the way and it’s a little late :(
Big big thanks to @slightlystalesushirolls for dealing with me as I wrote this!!
1.
Baz looks into the face of the boy the Crucible has brought to him, his supposed mortal enemy. But instead of the Mage’s pet, instead of a hateful creature, instead of whatever vile things Fiona’s said about the kid, Baz sees himself. To clarify, he sees another boy, terrified, and thrown into the deep end, but ready to fight. So he takes the hand extended in front of him. And stares into the most beautiful, ordinary pair of blue eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes. Eyes that he’s failed to notice, lost in thought as he is. And curls the colour of bronze. And a sprinkle of freckles, like fairy dust on golden skin. The chosen one is… handsome? Attractive? Incredibly lovely? This is completely unexpected. No one warned him about this. For once in his short but meticulously and carefully planned out life, Baz is flustered. Stunned. Gobsmacked. He tries to form words. Nothing comes out. He tries again. This time, a faint syllable emerges.
“I…”
This is more difficult than expected. What is he even going to say? Baz is hit with a realization, one that takes awhile to process. He has somehow become absolutely smitten with this boy he barely knows. But if he can just get the words out, the boy before him will know just how he feels. Maybe he believes in love at first sight too (not that Baz would ever admit to believing in love at first sight, he’s far too old for that fairytale nonsense). For a split second, Baz feels brave.
“I think…”
But the weight of his family and their legacy press down on him. How could he do this to them? After everything they’ve worked for, after his mother gave her life for his. The weight is heavy, far to heavy for the small shoulders of a young boy.
“I hate you!”
2.
Baz is fifteen years old, and busy daydreaming up a world where he doesn’t have to pretend he hates the chosen one, where he is happy and light and free, where Simon Snow loves him back. His peaceful dreams of a flat lit by the soft beams of the afternoon sun and making out by the window (he is a teenage boy) are immediately interrupted by said chosen one himself storming into their room.
“Aww Snow, is something wrong?”
Simon scowls. “Fuck off, Baz. I’m not in the mood for your sinister nonsense.”
Internally, Baz sighs. He would like nothing more than to comfort the idiot before him, soothe his worries, make sure everything will be okay. But even if he did, Simon would definitely think he was joking. There’s no point. As Simon crashes around the room, Baz continues his daydream. Risky business, he knows, but what Simondoesn’t know won’t hurt him, and there’s nothing wrong with a little self indulgence, so long as no one ever finds out. Not like there’s mind readers in here anyways. 
He’s so caught up in his domestic daydreams that he almost misses it when Simon leaves. In fact, he’s so caught up in his daydream that he forgets, for just a second, that they’re mortal enemies. He forgets that Simon doesn’t, wouldn’t, could not love him under any circumstances. Baz’s brain goes blank, and for a blissful moment Simon is just leaving their flat to do some errands, maybe get some groceries. When he comes back, Baz will kiss him and they’ll be happy together. For now, though, Baz bids his boyfriend adieu.
“Love you!”
A very frustrated Simon turns so forcefully that there are probably skid marks left on the floor, and Baz is snapped back into reality.
“What did you say?”
Baz backtracks furiously. Fuck. “I said that I loathe you! Whatever’s going on in that thick skull of yours doesn’t mean you get to treat our shared space like trash! Have some manners!”
During the fistfight that follows those comments, Baz feels a combined sense of relief and regret.
3.
“You like her too, don’t you. But that’s too bad, because I’ve already asked her out!”
Baz looks up into Simon’s gleeful face.
“What are you talking about?”
Simon’s grin stretches wider, if that’s possible. “Agatha, obviously! I see you look at us whenever we’re together. I can tell how jealous you are!”
Baz swallows. He is jealous, but not of Simon.
“So, when I asked her out, and she said yes, I made sure to come up here and rub it in your stupid, plotting face!”
Simon continues talking, but Baz’s mind is elsewhere. His heart sinks. Hard. It was inevitable, obviously. The school’s golden boy and golden girl getting together. He’s pretty sure that there’s a pool going on whether Agatha is going to ask Simon first or Simon will ask Agatha (although that’s been resolved now), and everyone knows how perfect they would be together. Agatha Wellbelove, the sweetest, loveliest girl in all of Watford known for not just her beauty but her kindness, and Simon Snow, the handsome, dashing hero, the mage’s favourite, the chosen one. They fit together like puzzle pieces, her softness smoothing out his rough and both of them bathed in golden light. Like Barbie and Ken, made for each other. Yet, in a small, secret corner of his heart, Baz has unconsciously held onto the tiny hope that maybe, just maybe, this could work out. That after the war was over and the dust settled, Simon would turn to him. That Simon would choose Baz the same way Baz would choose Simon. In a heartbeat. After all, haven’t they been through everything together?
Doesn’t Baz know Simon the best out of anyone, and vice versa? Baz is certain he cares about Simon more than anyone else in the world, more than the idiot mage or Agatha Wellbelove or even Penny Bunce, who clearly loves Simon dearly. There is no one else on the planet that Baz loves with such passion, but when he opens his mouth, his heart beats too fast and the words get tangled up and he says nothing at all.
4.
It’s mid-October, and Simon Snow walks into their room looking like a used punching bag. He’s shaking slightly, his face is bruised and cut up, he has a limp, and bandages cover his left arm. He looks worn and weary, far older than his seventeen years. Baz wants to gather him up, find out what happened. Baz wants to take whoever’s responsible (probably the incompetent mage) and beat them within a centimetre of their life. Baz stares for a moment too long at the beautiful boy in front of him and wonders for the millionth why the world let someone so perfect become so broken.
Simon snarls, voice cracking. “What are you looking at?”
‘You’re beautiful.’ Baz thinks. ‘I love you’, he wants to say desperately. ‘I love you and I’ve loved you since the day we met, when the Crucible brought us together and even if you killed me I’d love you still. I want to kiss the tears from your face and hold you in my arms and tell you that darling, everything will look better in the morning because you, Simon Snow, are a fucking miracle, and the world rights itself around you. My world rights itself around you.’ Baz inhales, exhales deeply.
“I was looking at your stupid expression, Snow. Your mouth was hanging open so wide I thought your jaw might fall off.”
5.
Everything is on fire. At least, that’s what it feels like to Baz. Watford is under attack, children’s screams echo into the night, and the world around him burns. Tonight, everyone else seems to be just as flammable as him.
As he runs through the gates to face the oncoming horde of monsters, several of Baz’s classmates fight alongside him. It’s funny that the Mage, supposed protector of the school, isn’t there to help. He’s probably fled in his cowardice. Despite this, the staff are fighting from the towers, casting protection spells and shooting down the occasional beast as they evacuate students. Of course, on the front lines, there’s Dev and Niall, his trusted friends and loyal compatriots. Unexpectedly, there’s also Bunce, Rhys, Elspeth, Gareth, Trixie, and Keris. It’s strange, to be on their side for once. He thought it might end the other way around, but here they are, coming together as one to defend Watford, their home. And come together, they do. Waves of magic hit goblins, chimeras, numpties, and other assorted creatures, while spells fly through the air like lightning. In fact, actual lightning flies through the air as well. It’s starting to storm, with rain lashing over the faces of the fighters and lightning crackling and thunder sounding in the distance. As it pours, Bunce, ever resourceful, casts a ‘keep clear’ onto her glasses. The rest of them copy her, using various spells to defend themselves from the weather as well as the beasts they’re fighting. As the battle intensifies, he feels his fangs emerge, but he doesn’t care, and no one else does either. Why would they care about something so trivial, when they’re winning?
As their opponents retreat, Agatha Wellbelove runs out of the Wandering Wood with Simon on her tail, yelling. The battle shifts. The forest is on fire. Suddenly, Keris screams as Trixie collapses into her arms, and Baz can’t tell whether or not she’s alive or dead. He can hardly make out anything through the rain, smoke, and bodies. As other move to cover them, magic and sparks dance together, intermixed with ashes blowing from the slowly smoldering forest. Every hair stands on end. Baz is covered in blood, so much blood, and he can’t even tell if it’s his. The pace speeds up, because if they’re going to win, they need to win now. Alistair fucking Crowley, this is cutting it close.
There is a seemingly endless stream of monsters, despite their efforts. It feels more and more like their reserves are dwindling while the numbers of the enemy stay the same. As merwolves emerge from the moat and they’re besieged on both sides, Baz casts spell after spell trying to find one that works. He finds the right words in an old Christmas carol. As silver bells rain from the skies above, the merwolves hiss and retreat.
In the midst of the battle, Baz sees Simon. He doesn’t care anymore if else anyone sees them. This could be the end, so fuck it. As he navigates himself through the sea of combatants, he sees Simon doing the same. Soon, sooner than expected, Simon is within reaching distance. They fight back to back.
“Snow, Simon, I—” what if, after tonight, he never sees Simon again? The thought is terrifyingly real. Visions of the chosen one dance in his mind’s eye, a bloodied body broken for good, bronze curls buried in mud, soft blue eyes unseeing. There is so much to process, so much to say, and far too little time. So it slips out in a bare whisper.
“I love you.”
He tries again, louder, more forceful. Trying to cut through the screaming and muck and grime. “Simon Snow! I love you!”
Simon stops for a moment, shocked. Time stops, and it’s just the two of them.
“I’ve loved you since I was eleven, and I think I’ll love you forever! If this fight doesn’t go our way, I want you to know that I died loving you, because you’ve been my light all these years and if you go, I’ll go too because there’s no bloody way I’m going to live in a world that you’re not in!”
Simon looks at him again, tears in his eyes. He turns and takes a step towards Baz.
“Baz,” he says, “Baz I feel the same—“
And that is where Simon, sweet, impulsive, stupid Simon, makes a mistake. You never turn your back on the enemy in battle. The goblin he was fighting stabs, fast and dirty, at Simon’s back. As he collapses, Baz lets loose a cry and lets go of every primal, feral urge he’s been holding back. Fury and adrenaline aid his movements and he slices through with spells and brute strength. He carves out a rough patch for him and Simon, enough to breathe and check if he’s alive because there’s no way in hell this is how it ends. Simon looks so small.
“Baz,” he whispers. “Baz, listen.” Simon goes into a coughing fit, and his hands are splattered with red when he stops.
“Shh. It’s alright. You don’t have to talk.” Baz is all tenderness now, even as the horde creeps in around them. Nothing in the world matters more than this.
“I need you to hold my hand, right now. I’m going to give you some of my magic.” Simon is curled up now, blood flowing fast from his back. That much magic use will surely damage his shattered body more than it already is.
“Simon—“ He looks again around him; the gate is breaking. Monsters surround the walls. Watford is almost done for.
“Baz, now!”
Baz hesitates for a split second before grabbing Simon’s hand, and promises to himself that he will not let go. No matter what happens.
The spell comes to Baz, almost laughable in its simplicity. He holds hands with the boy he’s loved forever, and feels magic greater than he’s ever know well up inside of him. His blood sings, filled to the brim with potential and fire.
“Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.”
A flash of white light and the battlefield stills. Slowly, slowly, the monsters disappear, like photographs developing in reverse. As the swarms fade from view until they’re nothing more than dust motes in bright light, something stirs behind Baz. He turns. Against all odds, against everything, Simon Snow is alive.
“He’s here.” He whispers, and Baz is at his side in an instant.
“Who’s here, darling?”
Simon raises a shaking hand, and points. The air around them changes, and he sees his celebrating, mourning classmates and teachers stiffen. Magic is draining rapidly from the land, leaving Baz feeling parched and dry. There’s a little boy on the field now, maybe eleven or twelve years old, bouncing a red ball. Baz starts, but as the child walks towards them, it’s clear that he only has eyes for Simon.
As he approaches, the stares of everyone rest upon them. No one moves a muscle, save the child and Simon, who is starting to push himself up, though he’s pale with loss of blood. Baz tries to help him, or stop him, but he’s paralyzed. The kid is eerily familiar, and it’s only when he speaks do the pieces click in Baz’s mind. A younger, dirtier Simon Snow is before them.
“Hello.” He says. “I think you’ve been expecting me.”
Simon looks at him, stares for a second, like his eyes need time to focus. Baz wants to scream, but time seems like syrup and the air is so still.
“I know how to stop you. I wasn’t sure before, but I’m sure now.”
The boy sneers at that.
“What are you going to do? Stab me with your little sword? Use a big, powerful spell? I’m the Insidious Humdrum. Fighting me is pointless.”
“No,” rasps Simon. “I’m not going to fight you. I’m giving back what I took from you.”
The Humdrum has reached them now. He’s not angry, not disdainful anymore. He seems inquisitive, and when Simon extends his trembling hands, he takes them. Simon closes his eyes, and Baz sees the strain in his face. It takes him a second, but everyone on the grounds seems to start realizing what’s happening. Simon is pushing his magic into the Humdrum, who’s accepting it willingly. All Baz can do is stare as Simon weakens, wringing out every last drop of magic from his tired body for what seems like hours but could be minutes, even seconds. Time passes strangely when everyone is frozen in place, unable to tear their eyes away. Suddenly, he collapses against Baz. It’s over.
Miraculously, the dead zone lifts. Magic returns to them, flooding in as if some gate has opened, and Baz starts to cast every single healing spell he knows. Simon is non-verbal, looking up with blind eyes and all Baz can think is I’m losing him.
“Hold on love, I’ve got you. Keep your eyes open and it will be okay. Just keep your eyes open…”
Bunce comes up first, followed by Wellbelove and Dev and Miss Possibeif and a torrent of other students and teachers. They form a healing circle, frantically trying to stem the flow of blood. Nothing seems to be working, either because their magic reserves have been depleted, or Simon is too far gone. Baz can’t tell. In the chaos, the Humdrum has slipped away into nothingness.
This is Baz’s nightmare, his personal hell. He’s dreamed of fire and blood and the sting of bitter tears, but it’s always been Simon standing above him, while Baz dies looking into those perfect, ordinary eyes. It’s not supposed to be like this; the chosen one in his arms, the little life he has left draining rapidly from his bruised body.
“Please,” he whispers. “Please.” The word echoes in his skull, and Baz is reminded of the old lullaby. He owes it to Simon, he figures. To sing him to sleep, to comfort him this last time. He prays that this will make up for each time he couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t say anything when he knew Simon was hurting. He knows it isn’t enough.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey…”
Baz is crying now, fat teardrops running down his face. He hasn’t cried this hard since he was a child. He lets out great, gasping sobs, hardly able to get the words out, but he owes this to Simon. Everyone around him has gone silent.
“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you…”
They’re too young for this. Far too young  to die in a war that isn’t theirs. Simon Snow deserves to be more than a faded flower, a name in the history books. He deserves to be alive and vibrant and so bright it hurts to look at. With this thought in mind, Baz sings the last bit of the song. He puts everything he has into it, desperately hoping it will be enough. A last-ditch effort to save the one he loves.
“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
But the chosen one is silent and grey from blood loss, his face smudged with ash and dirt. Carefully, gently, Baz wipes the grime from his face, smooths out the unruly curls like he’s always dreamed of doing, though not like this. Never like this. He silently places a kiss on Simon’s cold lips. How long has he imagined this moment? How many times has he wished and hoped just to brush his lips against Simon’s? But he always thought that his lips would be warm. Right now, it’s like kissing ice. He looks at the face of brilliant, golden boy he’s been in love with since the beginning, with no tears left to cry. Then Simon opens his eyes, and kisses Baz right back.
For a moment, it’s just them. Just tongue and lips and teeth and Simon and Baz just like it should be, just like it’s always been. The battlefield and everyone in it melts away and Baz wants to stay like this forever. 
Bunce’s screams puncture the space first. As he opens his eyes, he can’t even be mad, because Simon looks so happy to see her. They’re crying big, dripping tears, and she embraces both of them, hugs them so hard that Baz wheezes and Simon cries out and everyone around them starts, remembering that Simon is still injured. With renewed energy, healing spells are cast, potions conjured, and bandages are wrapped. Despite this, Simon can’t feel his legs. Baz carries him as everyone walks back to Watford, together and triumphant. Simon muses that maybe it’s permanent, but losing the use of his legs seems a small price to pay for his life. He grins, and Baz smiles fondly.
“What do we do now?”
“We carry on, love. Just like we always have, just like we always will.”
Simon smiles wider, if that’s possible, and leans in for another kiss.
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gin-n-chronic · 5 years
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Carry on Countdown: Day one, Flower shop au
Word count: 1308
Simon is about to close his and Penny’ s shop, when a mysterious and handsome bloke comes in.
Simons pov
I stand on the stepping stool, watering the Marigolds in my flower shop. I hum along to a song I had listened to on the way here. It is about closing time, so I'm trying to fix everything. I continue watering and fixing the leaves of the flowers until I feel a light tap on my upper back. I look down to see a guy with shoulder length black hair, wearing a nice suit.
"Excuse me sir, but do you happen to have any Rose of Sharon flowers?" He asks. I smile at him and climb down from my step stool.
"Yes I do, follow me, sir." I lead him to a small section of my store where I keep the summer flowers. "Here they are," I go through the bunches of flowers and pick out a nice bouquet of flowers.
"Do you happen to have a vase I can bring it in?" I nod as I smile at him. He is a good looking bloke. I bring him to one of the two counters I have at my store.
"What color?"
"Do you have a clear glass one?" I nod as I grab one of the nicer ones. I bring it back to him and I place the bouquet in the vase, and arrange it to be nicer.
I grab a small card. "Would you like a card for whomever you are giving this to?" I offer the card to him, he shakes his head.
"Its for my stepmother, I'm seeing her and my family today. I'm sure that won't be needed." He explains to me. He smiles, "Thank you, though." So that must be why he is wearing a suit. (Its not that he looks bad, he looks very nice in it.) I hand him the vase of flowers.
He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and fishes out a wallet. "What do I owe you?"
"11 pounds," he nods and takes out the amount I asked him for and hands it to me. I open the cash register and put in the money.
"Is this your shop?" He questions. 
"It was my mothers, but she passed away when I was 8, and gave it to me. So me and my god sister, Penny, run the shop." His face falls, looking guilty that he asked. "Don't worry, its okay that you asked, a lot of people do, and I'm not sad my mother died, it was her time. And now I keep her legacy going by running this shop." I grin as I say this, he smiles back.
"Thank you, I best get going now. Thank you again for the flowers," he tells me, he starts walking to the door, he turns and waves before he leaves. I smile and prop my elbows on the table and sigh. I hear the door to the back room open and shut. Penny walks past me, not looking at me. Her earbuds are in her ears and she is humming along to the song. She walks to the front and turns off the neon open sign. Penny turns to see me swooning, and flashes a big toothy grin.
"You met a bloke, didn't you?" I feel my cheeks darken and I take my arms off the counter and sit up straight. "Simon you're a mess, so, who was it?"
"No one, Pen," I'm lying through my teeth. I stand up and grab the broom to put it away. She runs in front of me and still has a big grin on her face.
"Bollocks! I know you met someone, and if you don't tell me who, I will check the cameras!" She starts backing up to the back room slowly.
I shrug, "Go ahead," she runs into the back room, and I follow her. (Not running like she was, though.) I walk through the opened door, to she her gawking at the screen.
"That's Baz, he goes to my uni!" My heart leaps at the sound of his name. I curse under my breath, I only met him today, and he probably doesn't even like me back. Hell, I might never see him again, yet here I am, swooning over a bloke I just met.
"Go on," I tell her as I sit next to her. "Well, he is one of the more quiet folks, but from what I know, he comes from a long line of rich folks. He is one of the smarter ones too, but of course I still top him." She boasts as she runs her fingers through her thick purple hair. "But ive talked to him a bit, and he seems nice."
"That's all I needed to hear." I say as I get up. "You want to leave?" She nods and turns off the monitor. We grab our coats and turn off all our lights. Maybe Baz will come tomorrow...
~Next day <3~
I clean the vases as Penny walks around watering this time. Its nearly 7, and its almost time to close, and I had gotten my hopes up that Baz was coming. I sigh as I walk over to the counter. I crouch under it to get more cleaning spray. As I grab the bottle, I hear someone clear their throat, thinking it was Penny, I sigh and stand up, looking at the ground while wiping my hands on my apron.
"What is it now, Penny?"
"Um, its not Penny." I jerk my head up to see Baz in a nice jumper and dress pants. I feel my cheeks grow hot as I stutter an apology.
Baz laughs, "Its quite alright," I place the cleaner on the counter.
"Its quite a shock to see you back so soon." I tell him. 
"Well, I was going to come earlier, but thought it would be better to come now. You know, I know your God sister, Penelope Bunce, am I correct?"
"Yeah, she told me she knows you." I state. He nods at me, his wavy black hair bobbing from the movement.
"By the way, I am Baz." Baz notifies me .
"Simon,"
"Charmed, so, Simon I came here to make a request for you."
"And that is?" I ask him. He places his elbows on the counter and places his head in his hands.
"I would like you, to acquaintance me on a date." I feel my neck grow red and the red spread to my face, I pull at my collar, not knowing what to say. I hear a loud squeal come from the one and only Penny. Baz chuckles and looks me in the eyes.
"So, what do you say, Simon?"
"Erm... Sure, okay!" I tell him, he stands back up and grins. "So, when do you want to meet up?"
"Is now okay?" Baz asks me.
"Well, I'm still in my work clothes..." I point to my White t shirt and jeans. (My t shirt is now stained a bit green.)
"I think that hardly matters." He assures me. I hear Penny walk up behind me. 
"Just go Simon, I can close up." I start to interject, but she stops me. "Just go Simon, I'll be fine." I sigh as I take off my apron, and run back to get my old bomber jacket. I run back out after I had put on my jacket. I look at Baz, who is grinning, and I smile at him. I walk out from behind the counter. He holds out a hand to me, and I happily take it.
As we leave I grab a rose from one of the many we have by the door, I hold it out to Baz who takes it with his other hand. I beam at him, and he smiles back. We walk out the store, hand in hand. Heart and heart.
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basic-banshee · 6 years
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large black coffee (part 5)
A Carry On Coffeeshop - AU/ College - AU | inspired by this beautiful art.
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7
I’d never really thought about what a date with Baz might be like, and while this is definitely not what I would have assumed, this is exactly what I would want.
Baz
“Simon, he’s here!”
Bunce is standing in the doorway in front of me and I swear her hair is a different colour than it was two days ago. I can’t see inside the flat because she’s blocking it, and her hands on one hip as she leans against the door. Her eyes are trained on me, going over my frame carefully as if she’s searching me for weapons.
“Is that food?” she asks curiously, eyeing the plastic bag in my hand. I nod.
“Smart man,” she grins, and steps back to grant me access.
Their flat is small but almost impossibly cosy, with a couch and overstuffed chairs pushed into the corner and almost every spare spot littered with books. Snow is on the couch in the corner, his eyes locked on to the TV, where it looks like he’s watching some baking show — or so I assume, until I see him glance sideways at me and then quickly glance back when I catch him.
I drop the food on their kitchen counter and shrug out of my coat. The movement is more difficult than I’d like to admit.
“What’s that?” Snow asks. He’s trying to pretend that he’s not interested.
“Take away,” I respond. “I figured we’d need fuel. There’s enough for you as well, Bunce.”
I shift uncomfortably from my kind gesture. Snow’s eyes are wide, and he’s staring between me and the bag with an expression of pure delight.
I’d expected some kind of reaction — I know Snow loves food, he spends all of class shoving snacks in his face — but I didn’t expect this level of adoration.
“Where are we setting up then?” I say stiffly. I’m deeply uncomfortable. I want to get this going, but this is Snow’s flat. He’s in charge. Normally that sentence would thrill me, but not tonight. I want to kill him. I want to destroy this PowerPoint. I want to burn this entire fucking project to the ground. I don’t even care that I’m here, with Snow, on a Friday night. I’m miserable and nauseated. And my nose is stuffed up.
“Oh, er,” he says. My eyes flick in annoyance. He hasn’t thought this through. 
“I’m going to Agatha’s,” Bunce announces. “The table is yours.” She quickly snaps her laptop closed and gathers up the mess of papers and books spread out in front of it. Suddenly my pulse ticks up. I wasn’t prepared to be alone in Snow’s flat with him. 
She’s out the door before Snow or I have a chance to say anything, and then, suddenly, we’re alone.
Snow is just staring at me. 
I suppose I’ll have to take charge, then.
I drop my bag, pull out my computer, and settle myself at the table. I pull up the ridiculous presentation we’re supposed to be working on, and turn to him.
“I’ve made the basic structure, and done the bibliography. All we really need to do is organise the slides and compile our research together.”
Simon
He showed up with takeaway.
I’d never really thought about what a date with Baz might be like, and while this is definitely not what I would have assumed, this is exactly what I would want.
Not that this is a date. We’re studying. It’s definitely not a date.
If this were a fantasy date, he’d be wearing those joggers. I bet he wears the joggers at home.
This is mental. I’ve got to snap out of this. It’s difficult though; ever since I caught myself admiring Baz, he’s all I can think about. I guess it’s not that different from before. I definitely thought about him a lot. I’d think about his hair that time he had it half up and half down, or how his eyes were the exact colour of a rainy day. 
But now I keep thinking about wanting to to run my hand through his hair. And I think I want to kiss him. That’s definitely new.
I’ve got to stop. He’s over there, half dead, pushing through to get our bloody project done, whilst I’m here, objectifying him. I hate this. I hate him. This is weird. He looks like shit, like he’s going to drop dead at any minute.
Baz
This was a bad idea.
I still feel too sick to take control of the situation. I shouldn’t have agreed to come here. I should have just told him to do his part and send it to me.
At least I managed proper trousers today. 
I still can’t believe I went out in those joggers. I never wear them. But I didn’t have the strength to button my real trousers, and when you’re that sick, you don’t have much capacity for self respect. 
I feel well enough to care today, but I almost wore them again. I spent all day sleeping in the damn things, and I was exhausted when my alarm went off, reminding me that I was to meet Snow, and the idea of putting on real clothing suddenly seemed impossible. And somewhere, in the back of my mind, was that fever-induced hallucination from the other day, wherein I was positive that Snow had checked out my backside.
I wish I had worn the joggers.
Simon
I’ve got to stop staring at him. I have to look absolutely mad. 
I grab my own laptop from the spot on the couch next to me and move to the table. I set up across from him and eye the takeaway. Would it be rude to crack into it first?
He’s already seated and typing away at his laptop, so I decide to go for it. Food calms me. 
“So why are you in this class?” I ask in between shoving three chips in my mouth. He doesn’t even look at me.
“Why are you?” he snaps back. I think he’s tired. He’s not as sharp today, and there are dark circles underneath his eyes.
I shrug.
“No one told me I had to take it first year. I sort of just found out.”
“Your advisor didn’t tell you about the mandatory first year seminar?” 
I shake my head.
“Nah, I ‘spose he had a lot on his mind at the time. Anyway, I only found out when Penny was talking to her younger sister about it, and I realised I hadn’t taken something like that, so, you know, here we are.”
“Your advisor had so much on his mind that he couldn’t do his literal job of telling you what classes you needed to take?”
Baz seems to be hung up on this point. His lip curls up. 
“Incompetent,” he mutters, still looking at his computer. “Who’s your advisor?”
“Professor Mage.”
Baz stops typing and turns to me. He looks seriously pissed.
“Mage? The dean? The dean of the college was too busy to tell you what classes to take.” He’s practically crackling with derision. “Typical. You should have put in for a transfer.”
My hackles go up. Yeah, I was pretty pissed at Mage for forgetting that detail — and I sometimes wonder if there’s anything else about my degree he’s forgotten to tell me — but I feel a bit protective of him. He’s really gone out on a limb for me. 
“Why would I do that? I like Mage. He’s done a lot for me.”
“Like almost cause you to delay your degree?” Baz spits out.
“No, he sponsored my application because I didn’t know any alumni.”
Baz’s fingers have frozen above his keyboard now, and he turns to stare at me.
My stomach drops.
Baz
Snow is the charity case.
I don’t know how I never put this together before. Now that I hear it, it’s obvious. Of course Snow is Mage’s pet project. Who else would be?
Ever since he took over as Dean after my mother’s death, Professor Mage has been on a reform kick. He’s petitioned to lower the graduation requirements to make them less difficult. He’s expanded scholarships, and been on a mission to open up acceptances. And these would be good reforms, if it weren’t for the fact that they were actively devaluing the prestige of the university and destroying the academic excellence that my mother worked hard to achieve.
I’d heard there was a charity case kid in my year, some kid that did not have the grades or scores to get into Watford, who the Mage had picked up in bumfuck London, “sponsored”, and pushed through. 
It was all my father would talk about for a summer, the kid who Mage was determined to push to the top of the class, who would give back to the community, who was going to show how much better Watford would be out of the hands of the wealthy elite.
When my mother was dean, the school was ruled by the elite, I’ll give him that. You needed an alumni connection or some kind of sponsor to get in. But my mother made sure every student deserved to be here based on merit. No one bought their way in.
“Mage sponsored you?” I repeat quietly. Simon shrugs.
“Yeah. He gave me a huge chance. I’m not going to give him grief for forgetting one class.”
“Is that why you’re an English concentration? Because Mage teaches English?”
Simon shrugs again.
“A bit. He suggested it, and it seemed like the most sensible route.”
“So why were you in Statistics last year?”
I can’t help myself, I know I’m interrogating him, but I’m just so unbelievably shocked by this turn of events. Snow is the charity case. The kid who doesn’t deserve to be here.
That isn’t even what pisses me off, honestly. It’s his dedication to Mage.
Professor Mage is a self-important prick who has spent years destroying my mother’s legacy, and Snow is practically licking his boots. Does Snow just do everything he’s told, even when he know it’s not in his best interest? Or does he just hero worship Mage?
And not to mention I’ve now let slip that I remember him from before the cafe, that I remember him from that class. No wonder he struggled in it.
He’s flushing though. His ears are turning red and he’s staring at the table, and he’s getting flustered because he’s starting to sputter.
“I... I had to take maths”
“Why not take the same entry level maths all the Humanities kids take?”
“Because, well, it was full, and—“
“Because Mage told you to.”
“So?”
“Because he wanted you to succeed outside your element and prove you deserve a spot here.”
“What’s wrong with wanting me to succeed?” He shouts. He’s pushed back from the table, and he’s breathing heavily.
Simon
This absolute prick. This complete, utter, absolute fucking prick.
I knew his mum was the dean here before; as soon as I heard his name I knew. Mage talks about his mum all the time, about how elitist and classist she was.
Penny thinks Mage is actually a bit sexist and racist, especially when he gets on those rants, but I’ve told her that he just wants to make the school more accessible. He’s not shutting people out, he’s helping people get in.
“So far our great ‘diversity champion’ is a white man who has thus far lowered our acceptance requirements, overloaded student housing, accepted students who can’t keep up, and replaced our one-on-one, analytical, research-heavy, tutor-based classes with huge lecture classes designed to teach kids how to make power points,” Penny snapped back. I know she was just quoting her mum though, because her mum has said the exact same thing.
Penny doesn’t like Mage, and it’s been a bit of a stressor in our relationship, but at least Penny believes in me. Even if he got me in as a test case, I’ve done well. I’ve done really well, even considering when I make a total muck of things. I dig in, and I always get myself out of my messes.
And now here’s fucking Baz, who got in on his name, who doesn’t know shit about me, who’s demeaning that success.
He’s gone quiet again, but his eyes are still burning.
“And did you succeed in Statistics?” He asks quietly. I flush. He knows I didn’t. He watched me flounder all term until Penny helped me squeak by.
“Why did you apply to Watford?” He asks suddenly. I don’t even have a chance to tell him off for making fun of my maths incompetency, because I’m so thrown.
“What?”
“Why Watford?”
“My... I was told to. Someone suggested it to me.”
“Do you always do what you’re told?” He sneers. “Your parents must have been very proud, to find a way to get you in here and then set you off. Did you choose this, or did they decide for you? Have they told you what you’ll be doing after graduation? Has Mage told you?”
I could kill him. My hands are shaking like they haven’t shook in years, and I’m ready to throttle him.
“I applied here because I aged out of the care home and wanted to go to uni, and my social worker said I had great scores and was a good candidate for a scholarship Watford was offering. I don’t know what I’m doing after graduation. I focus on things one step at a time.”
I meant to shout it, but it comes out quiet.
I’m glad I didn’t throttle him, because my even, level voice has shocked him far more than my fists ever could.
Baz
I’m an absolute prick. A complete, utter, absolute fucking prick.
Simon
He’s still staring at me, his grey eyes wide, and I just need him to say something. 
I see that he feels bad. I can tell, he’s realising he went too far, but then it’s shifting, and I know what’s about to come. I know his face is about to change to pity, and I won’t take pity, not from him.
Baz
“I got in here because my mum used to be the dean. I had perfect scores, but even if I didn’t, I would have gotten in.”
I don’t know why I’m saying this. But I feel like I have to do something, say something to show that I know I went too far. It would be better to just apologise, but I don’t know how to do that.
“I didn’t take this class because I thought it was stupid and I assumed I could get an exemption because of who I am, but Mage wouldn’t let me.”
Simon
I was not expecting this.
“You’re an elitist prick,” I say.
Baz
“Yes I am,” I say slowly. “And you speak like a Neanderthal.”
Simon
“Is that supposed to be an apology?” I have no idea what’s happening, but Baz nods.
“Yes, it is.”
“You can’t even say it,” I say. “You can’t even apologise without insulting me.”
Baz
“Do you want me to be nice to you? Do you want me to congratulate you on pulling yourself up through hard work, and apologise for making shitty assumptions about your background?”
He nods.
“Yeah, actually, that would be great.”
“I’m not going to apologise for not liking Mage. Sponsorship or no, he’s not doing you any favours by forgetting about your education until he needs to shove you into a difficult position to make him look good.”
“It’s just maths. It’s not like he asked me to go slay a dragon.”
“Simon, he pushed you into a class you had no business being in, which could have severely impacted your grades and kept you from graduating. Do you see me in a creative writing class? No. Because it’s outside of my skill set.”
Simon
“I bet you’d be good at it,” I say. It pops out before I can help it. This entire thing has been mental. We were supposed to be working on a project, and instead we shouted at each other about the academic prestige of a fucking university and then I told him I’m a fucking orphan, and now we’re arguing about maths. This is insane. This is so fucking insane.
“What?” He says. He sounds a bit dense. It’s not his usual reply.
I shrug.
“I’m just saying, you’d probably be good at it. You’re good at literally everything else.”
I flush a bit. I didn’t intend to compliment him.
“No I’m not,” he says. I laugh.
“What are you bad at?”
“Being nice.”
I blink. But then I shrug.
“I dunno, you’re pretty nice to me.”
Baz
What kind of world did Simon Snow grow up in if he thinks I’m a nice person?
“No, I’m not,” I say slowly. “I’m actually pretty terrible to you. You’re the one who’s nice to me.”
Simon looks stumped. His mouth is hanging open and I want to shove up out of this chair and bite it. I would jump him right this moment, if I wasn’t having a bit of disassociation from my overdose of cold syrup.
“How about we just try being nice to each other, then?” he says. 
And then he smiles. 
And he kisses me.
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