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sucrosette · 5 months

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★— ⋆｡˚ [Unexpected Things]

For Day 14 of Carry on Countdown 23, Blade. @carryon-countdown

Basil's gone and done it. Poor lad's gotten himself stabbed, and it's only taken 3 years out of law school. At the very least, his nurse seems nice enough.

Rated T for near-death experiences, excessive cussing, and Basil checking out his nurse too blatantly.

This is part 1 of the Nurse/Lawyer AU I started on Day 8.

⋆｡˚

‘Oh, bloody hell–’

I need an ambulance. There is a gaping wound in my gut. I am losing a lot of blood. I have enough presence of mind to shrug off my jacket and ball it up to press over the wound. Vaguely, as if from very far away, I think about how I should call for an ambulance. I don’t think I’ve got consciousness enough in me to make the call.

I should really make the fucking call.

I keep fumbling over the keys to my phone as I stumble my way through the alley and out onto the pavement. 999 should not be this hard to dial. My fingers should not be this bad at dialing three whole numbers. Especially not if they’re just the same number repeated thrice over. If I can manage to make it to the pavement I can dial bloody emergency. I’d never seen a blade go so deep past skin before. I don’t think I have enough strength to keep standing.

I shortly find out that I do not.

I am flat on the ground. Did I pass out? Maybe for a moment. Apparently, I’ve managed to get through to emergency though, because someone is asking me to answer on the other end of the line. Someone is Asking my name and situation. Vaguely, I pull my phone closer to me, close enough so the operator can hear.

“Stabbed…” is about all I can mutter out, but she asks for my name and location, so at least I know she heard me. I sigh out, laying flat on my back and staring up at the moon in the sky above.

I manage my location. The moon is blinking at me, blurred morse code messages I can’t quite decipher. Or my eyes are closing and my consciousness is slipping. I can’t really tell which it is, but the latter seems more likely.

I repeat the intersection one more time into the phone. I think the operator is talking me through keeping consciousness, but I don’t think she’s going to succeed. Somehow, I give my name, or at least part of it. The operator sounds really worried for me. What was her name? Crystal? Maybe Krystal. Krystal with a K is such a choice of a name– Kardashian fodder stuff. Not that I’m judging my only link to potentially surviving this whole situation. I will judge her parents though.

“Is your name Crystal with a C or with a K?” The operator stops talking for a whole two seconds, and I cough out a laugh in the moment of silence. I am not doing well, but at least she confirms her name starts with a C. “That’s good Crystal, your parents aren’t shite people.”

The moon is still flashing its blurred morse code at me. Probably, it’s also trying to tell me how to stay conscious. The moon is worse at this than Crystal is.

“I’m sorry, darling, but I think my capacity for staying alive might be a touch dodgy at the moment–”

Crystal keeps talking, telling me to keep pressure on the wound, not to move, ect ect. I don’t register all of it. Distantly I hear sirens.

The world goes dark.

⋆｡˚

I wake up in a hospital bed and for a moment I’m surprised enough that I woke up at all that I fail to see the pretty nurse next to me. I apparently managed to skip the whole ambulance ride and repair process too. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I’m also starving. I also really need a drink. I also really need to take a piss.

Alright, body, calm the fuck down, one step at a bloody time.

I start sitting myself up, groaning the whole while, and the nurse who had been diligently taking my vitals drops everything to stop me in my tracks. “Hey, there, Handsome,” the nurse says with her hands on my shoulder, gently keeping me in place, and I can’t help but notice that they’re stronger than they look at a glance. Either that or I’m especially weak in my freshly stabbed state. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Bathroom?” My voice cracks on the word. Lovely. I’m making a lovely first impression. Fuck.

“Well, let’s get you into a chair. You’re not quite standing ready just yet.” Their voice is terribly gentle despite the seriousness of their tone, sweet and steady, a comforting thing, and in my probably still somewhat drugged state I almost say as much.

Instead, I keep my head enough to respond in a very smart and on topic way, “That bad?”

“Not as bad as it could’ve been,” they answer lightheartedly. And then I see their name tag and pronouns neatly displayed on their chest. Simon.

Alright, Simon.

I roll the name around in my head while she fetches my chair. It’s not a bad name, a bit simple though. Mother wouldn’t have picked it, but then again her chosen husband had an equally boring name, so I suppose that doesn’t really matter, does it?

Crowley, my mind’s all over the place. Where the bloody hell do I get off on comparing Simon to my father right off? I mean clearly he wouldn’t be a homophobe given he was at minimum an out part of the community. That didn’t outright exclude bigots or internalized homophobia but, you know—

I should probably stop thinking so much. My head’s starting to hurt with the liberties it’s taking about someone I’d exchanged a whole five lines of dialogue with.

Oh, thank fuck the chair is here. I start sitting myself up again, but Simon’s quicker, already there to guide me up and over.

…It’s a process.

I feel so bloody betrayed by my body, but Simon talks me through it and I suppose that’s help enough. Embarrassing still, though. Even more embarrassing how I can’t stop myself from noticing how soft his sun-streaked hair looks, how striking his eyes.

As if meeting someone via stabbing was a great way to start a relationship or form an attachment. Fuck’s sake, she’s a nurse, Basil! This is her place of work, I literally know better. I’m just asking to catch a harassment case at this rate.

I just sit for a while in my chair after the whole affair’s done with, my head leaning probably too far back and my gaze intent on the ceiling.

“Do you want to stay there a while?” Simon interrupts my fugue and I realise I’ve probably been holding him up from the rest of her patients.

I shake my head, “No, I’m bloody starving though. Thirsty too.”

“Well,” she starts, not stuttering a second while she’s helping me back into bed, “Technically it’s past supper, but I’ll see what I can manage for you, Tyrannus.”

“Baz,” I correct, even though I’m never this informal with strangers, “Baz or Basil, please.”

“Baz,” Simon repeats, taking a moment to note it on my chart, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“And water?”

“Already done,” she gestures to the bedside table and there it is, already poured in glass for me and everything.

“Delightful,” I manage without an ounce of sarcasm. It’s an achievement, actually.

“Press the button if you need me,” Simon says with a warm smile.

My heart does a stupid flip-flop despite the risk such a thing would be to my life, what with the whole recently stabbed and nearly bleeding out bit. Really inadvisable, heart, let’s just kill us after just barely managing to survive a direct attempt on our life. Don’t be such a numpty, heart, I’d like to live a good while longer.

I manage a nod despite my internal argument with my circulatory system. “I’ll see you back then?”

“More than probably,” Simon answers, “Don’t forget your water.

My heart does another flip-flop when he gives me another smile full of sunshine. Rather against my earlier advice. The idiotic bloody muscle’s practically trying to kill me.

⋆｡˚

I don’t see Simon back for a while, but I also haven’t bothered to press the button. I’d finished my water and my phone was right there next to it, and I’m not sharing the room so I can have the tv on if I like even despite the late hour. I’ve plenty to entertain myself with, or at the very least plenty to distract myself from the pretty nurse trying to invade my mind with his skin painted in freckle constellations and copper curls.

It’s not enough, somehow, and I find myself having to actively resist the urge to push the button for no reason. I’ve not needed much for the painkillers, I’m not popping stitches or going anywhere, and I’m not exactly dying of hunger, so there’s no reason to call Simon unnecessarily.

Still.

I want to.

Thankfully I don’t have to. Simon shows up sometime near three o’clock in the morning with a sandwich in hand and a side of apple slices. I’m pretty sure it’s her lunch.

“Are you allergic to anything?” He asks as he plops himself in the chair next to my bed.

When I shake my head Simon proves me right by keeping half the sandwich for herself. I bite in without thinking about what might be in it. I’m too hungry to be particular right now, and I polish off the sandwich before I can even properly figure it out, washed down with a fresh glass of water and a sigh.

“Fuck…” I sink back against my pillow and let my eyes close, tenderly poking around the stitched up wound in my gut.

“Stop that,” Simon scolds with a swat in my direction, “Just because it’s not that bad doesn’t mean you can just poke at it.”

“How bad is not that bad?” I still stop, even if I ask the question as if I wasn’t going to.

“Not bad enough to need surgery,” Simon answers between bites, “You’re lucky enough your assailant didn’t knick any arteries or organs, but bad enough that if you put too much strain on it or pop a stitch the doctor will be Very upset with you.”

I can hear the capital in his voice. I don’t press further, letting my eyes slip closed in the moments following.

“So who’d you piss off enough to end up in this state anyway?”

“Is that normally the sort of question you ask a patient, Simon?” I can’t help cracking my eyes back open to serve them an incredulous look. At least I hope that’s what it comes across looking like. Who’s to say what I actually looked like, between the tiredness seeping into my bones and the ache in my gut.

Simon snorts out an amused laugh at me and my look only turns more sour. Or, again, I hope that’s what comes across. “Maybe if I were on the clock I’d be more tactful.”

“You’re spending your off hours with me? How unprofessional. I’m a lawyer, you know, I know how that could come across.” Even as I say it, there’s no threat behind the words. I’m leaning up to look at her more properly and she’s still smiling that sunshine smile and I can’t help but smirk back.

“It’s just my lunch, we’ll see about off hours later,” Simon’s being coy, but I can’t help but notice that he looks good doing it.

“You’re really toeing the lines of respectability, I’ll have you know.” Even I think I sound pompous at that, but Simon just keeps grinning over at me, so maybe she likes pompous sorts anyway.

“Is that how you got stabbed? Pissed off a client? Got on the wrong side of the mafia then?” He asks it like a flirt, tone all low and sultry, and I can’t help but laugh.

This is definitely not how one normally flirts. “Not exactly,” I answer as I settle back down in my bed, letting myself relax before carrying on, “A client’s ex-husband. I’m a divorce lawyer, and some men don’t handle that too well, it seems.”

Simon lets out a whistle of surprising length as he starts at his apple slices, “I was thinking criminal lawyer would be hotter, but I think I could be into a family court kind of guy.”

I shift as carefully as I can onto my side and perk a brow at this too pretty nurse ineloquently munching her lunch beside me. I’m still unreasonably attracted to him. “That’s incredibly unsubtle, Simon.”

“I know, Basil, but you’re not too subtle yourself.”

“What gave me away?”

“Heart palpitations,” Simon answers simply, “And I caught you staring at my bum when I left the room.”

“I was not!” I have to deny it, even if I had been.

“Sure you weren’t,” Simon hums, head quirked to the side and watching the guilty flush that was surely on my cheeks spread, “But how do you feel about the idea of shared off time? When you’re not such a vulnerable stabbing victim at some point even.”

“Is that how you’re asking me on a date, Simon?”

“Is that how you say yes, Basil?”

I purse my lips at him, a little bit of dramatic flair showing while I stretch out the moment in unnecessary anticipation. We both well know I’d already agreed. “That depends on your taste in the theatre. Are you a musical sort of person at all?”

“I could learn to be,” Simon answers, almost too earnestly.

I like that earnesty too much. “Well, I can appreciate someone who’s willing to learn for me. Give me your number and I’ll call you when I’m less recently stabbed. I’d like to be able to walk properly if I’m going to take such a pretty thing out on the town.”

“You’re really pushing for that lawsuit now, aren’t you?” Simon teases.

I’m a little too proud of the fact that I still managed to get his number programmed into my phone by the end of her shift though. I know full well I’m going to call him before I’m done healing though, even if I try and tell myself to not rush into things.

When I do call, a mere two days after I’m discharged from the hospital, Simon doesn’t seem to mind my blatant approach in the least.

#Carry On Countdown #COC 2023 #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #my writing #there's more of this to be posted #Bigender Nurse Simon Snow (He/She)#Lawyer Baz Pitch #general sickfic fluff #Reference to the extended Grimm family #this is part one #i saw this prompt and said 'oh let's stab basil!'#i also said 'oh let's make it a comedy!'#please enjoy

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lesbians4omori · 10 months

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from my tiktok but it had to be said.

#art by me #my art #digital art #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #basilton pitch #basil #the other basil is the one from omori #will probably be three basils after i read the picture of dorian gray

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lupimemes · 2 years

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“uno reverse” is a spell in the carry on universe and there’s nothing you can do to tell me otherwise

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #basil grimm-pitch #wayward son #any way the wind blows #rainbow rowell

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pumpkin-wants-a-cherry-scone · 8 months

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musk deer exist. I can't remember where I first learned this but it was a months ago. I was reminded on them today. and then I thought of Baz.

and well

now I had to make a furry baz, y'know? I had to. I had no choice in the matter. a musk deer. I should make simon a goat or smthn. what would penny be? idk. i'll figure it out. maybe. I'll see.

#I could NOT figure out what color to make the clothes #like????#drawing is hard but I really really wanted to draw this #the leaves as suppose to be basil #because I'm very funny #hkdhkdkhxbdk #does it look like baz?#i don't know #but its suppose to be #its an brainstorming sketch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #the coat is not as bright irl the lighting is weird

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bookish-bogwitch · 12 days

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Hello! I don't have any new words to share from Basil Pitch's Diary, but thought I'd share the BPD plot timeline that lives over my desk. Here it is, redacted but for one spoiler.

Art credits from top left: Basilton Grimm-Bitch by @artsyunderstudy Baz Pitch by @dead-cherry-bitch "Twinkle, twinkle little star!" by @dancingwdinosaurs

I just needed to physically move things around to grasp what could / should go when. When I finish writing an event, the paper slip comes down. (It's not to scale in terms of chronology--this started about halfway through the story.) At this point I've changed a lot and it's out of date but I've kept it up for inspiration. I mean--look at him! He deserves an HEA.

Tags & hullo to @facewithoutheart, @thewholelemon, @cutestkilla, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @mooncello,

@raenestee, @rimeswithpurple, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @hushed-chorus, @emeryhall, and anyone reading this.

#baz pitch #other people's art #my writing #sort of #process pics #basil pitch's diary #wip wednesday

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shrekgogurt · 5 days

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Happy Wednesday y’all! I bring you big pining from the distance makes the heart grow ouchier chapter. (Y’all thought you had already seen the peak pining in IKABIKAM? Oh, dearests, you’ve seen NOTHING yet.)

Baz POV, present:

The loss of a fantasy. That’s all. It’s the loss of an escape that never would’ve been. Not in reality. Not in a way I actually want. And so, instead, the Instagram notification burns a hole in my pocket. A reminder I ignore for the time being. What’s a little longer? A little more? Forever and ever on.

I’m at a party.

I will talk. I will charm. I will have fun. Like muscle memory. Like the tattoos on my arm.

I had a life. I have a life.

Someone asks for my name.

“Basil,” I introduce, stressing the ‘ah’ sound.

It’s the most neutral option. Friendly enough, but not overly so. Basilton is too contrived in the American accent and for all my resoluteness, I still don’t want to be called Baz right now. Not without the ghost of a Celtic lilt. (How the notification burns, indeed.)

I forgot! I get to announce chapter titles in the wipsday posts! So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings of course. It’s only natural.

youtube

Alright I’m tagging! I wish I had a list I just copy and pasted but tumblr actually hates linking tags that way so I just go down the alphabet every week and hope I don’t miss anyone.

@alexalexinii @artsyunderstudy @aristocratic-otter (started reading The Snow Fox this morning btw) @bookish-bogwitch @brilla-brilla-estrellita @captain-aralias @cutestkilla @dani-vc @ebbpettier @emeryhall @erzbethluna @excalisbury @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @hagnoart @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @ineffable-grimm-pitch @j-nipper-95 @larkral @letraspal @martsonmars @messofthejess @mitranian @monbons @mooncello @ninemagicks @nightimedreamersworld @onepintobean @palimpsessed @prettygoododds @raenestee @rimeswithpurple @roomwithanopenfire @theearlgreymage @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @urban-sith @valeffelees @whogaveyoupermission @wellbelesbian @yellobb @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

#Youtube #can you tell i recently rewatched bridgerton lol #ikabikam #wipsday

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theearlgreymage · 10 months

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It is finally here! The COBB Project that myself and @ivelovedhimthroughworse have been working on together!!

This is a Greek Mythology AU inspired by Lore Olympus by Rachel Smythe ❤

Read it here on AO3

Prologue |

Chapter 1 | Accompanying Art by Apricot

Chapter 2 | Accompanying Art by Apricot

Chapter 3 | Accompanying Art by Apricot

This work is a part of the Carry On Big Bang 2023 Event (@carry-on-big-bang )

Summary and Additional information below the cut

Fandom: Carry On | Simon Snow Series - Rainbow Rowell

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow

Characters: Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce, Natasha Grimm-Pitch, Malcolm Grimm, Ebeneza "Ebb" Petty, The Mage (Simon Snow), Lucy Salisbury, Fiona Pitch, Nicodemus Petty, Daphne Grimm (Simon Snow), Pippa (Simon Snow), Lamb (Simon Snow), Shepard (Simon Snow), Agatha Wellbelove, Dev (Simon Snow), Niall (Simon Snow), Gareth (Simon Snow), Rhys (Simon Snow), Insidious Humdrum (Simon Snow)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Inspired by Lore Olympus, Slow Burn, Hades!Simon, Persephone!Baz, Pining, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, False Identity, Arranged Marriage, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Eventual Sex

Summary:

The Underworld is a fickle realm. Difficult to control on one's own - which leaves Simon in a difficult predicament. Find a co-ruler or eventually crumble and lose everything. But Simon doesn't want to burden anyone with this responsibility. Determined to find a way to do things in his own way.

Natasha has raised her son in the Mortal Realm, planning an idyllic future for him. Whether he wants it or not. That is until Malcolm shows up with a plan for Basil. One that Basil doesn't want and is willing to flee from. Determined to choose his own fate.

So what happens when these two gods who are both struggling with their own destinies cross paths?

#Aster & Narcissus #Greek Myth AU #Carry On #Simon Snow #Simon Snow Series #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz #baz pitch #snowbaz #Fic #art #cobb 2023

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aristocratic-otter · 10 months

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Phew, it's been a while since I posted on a Sunday, huh? Well, I have to say all of the gifted writing y'all have been sharing today is inspiring, so I had to join in.

Thank you to @confused-bi-queer, @prettygoododds, @nightimedreamersghost, @hushed-chorus, @nausikaaa, @artsyunderstudy, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @moodandmist, @facewithoutheart, @larkral, @j-nipper-95 and @ileadacharmedlife for the tags this last week.

Sentences below the cut

From my Age of Sail Au:

“You didn’t come to dinner.” Baz looks away, his posture stiff. “Why not? Are you sick?”

His lips tighten. “I’m not sick. I just don’t find it particularly pleasant to be around people who hate me.”

From my COTTA, Snow Fox:

Gareth is puffing and gasping, like he’s just run ten miles. He tries to speak, but can’t get the breath for it. “Ease up, man,” I say, patting his back. “Catch your breath. It can’t be all that urgent.”

If anything, his face gets even redder and he shakes his head frantically, still trying to push words between his gulps of air. “No…Simon!...the men…they’re…heading to…Pitch…Manor…to burn…it all down!”

From Saving Simon Snow (I may be taking this in a slightly different direction, so I don't know if this part will stay, but, eh <shrugs>):

“How on Earth can you not know this, Simon?”

He glares at me, and he looks so cute doing it that I can’t help pushing up and nipping at that plump bottom lip. He yelps, and then laughs.

“Haven’t you ever watched…you know, porn?” I ask, more gently.

Simon averts his eyes.

From my COBB (posting next week!) (a bit more than six sentences, but context was important):

I don’t know this Baz.

I’ve never seen him being nice before. I mean…I’ve never seen him interact with people beyond his two friends and the teachers, really. With his friends he just seems cold and aloof–unless he’s joining them in mocking me. With the teachers, he’s coldly formal.

But whenever he and I are in proximity to each other, we mostly interact with each other. I watch him to make sure he’s not plotting something, and he makes snide comments aimed at me even while never truly looking at me.

He looks at Shepard. Worse, he looks at Shepard like he’s smiling, even though the edges of his lips don’t lift.

From Westward Son:

Before we began, Tashima told me to have something in my mind, something to focus on. Something to take my mind off of the sweat and heat and stifling air. I choose to imagine my dearest wish: a log cabin in the Oregon woods, with a porch swing and a vegetable garden. A parlor full of books and the faces of those dearest to me in the world. Simon and Baz. And Shepard. With a gold ring on his left hand and a broad smile on his face.

From To Heal A Broken Mind:

I blink sleep-crusted eyes and then lift my chin to look up at him. He’s sitting beside my hip on my bed, his hand still in my hair. He looks like he’s been hit by a lorry. His face is white and pinched, his eyes red. His hair forms a tangled halo around his head–he must have been tearing at it.

He looks–tragic.

From The Naked Next:

As I hurry towards engineering, I tap my communicator and say, “Lieutenant Brody?”

To my surprise, there’s an answer. But it doesn’t sound like our chief engineer. “Yes, Basil?” she purrs.

I stare at my own chest, as if I can see through the silver piece of technology to the source of the voice that emerges from it. Niamh Brody has never once called me anything other than “Lieutenant Grimm-Pitch” when she’s feeling respectful (or just “Pitch” when I’ve annoyed her).

Tagging for future or a long, slow wink:

@angelsfalling16, @annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @giishu, @ic3-que3n, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @letraspal, @messofthejess, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @rimeswithpurple, @raenestee, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @theearlgreymage, @thewholelemon, @tea-brigade, @whatevertheweather, @whogaveyoupermission, @yellobb-old

#cotta 2021 #cotta 2023 #Age of Sail AU #American Revolution Au #cobb 2023 #House AU #Star Trek AU #oregon trail au #canon divergent #Forced Marriage

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martsonmars · 1 year

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Happy Wednesday, friends! Words are still not happening, and normally I wouldn't post, but I have a busy day ahead (well, after sleeping) and need to know I'll find validation on Tumblr.

I am, however, attempting to plot what might become my COBB fic. I promised to myself that I will sign up as a writer only if I manage to fully outline it and start writing before sign-ups close, so it might not happen (I signed up as an artist anyway!), but last night I figured out some plot points that were troubling me, so I have hope.

I am writing random lines that I'm not even sure I'll use in the fic, so have some of them (heavily redacted, or where's the fun?):

“So you all came here with every intention of [REDACTING REDACTED], and then [REDACTED] was [REDACTED], and none of you did it?”

———

“This doesn't make any sense.”

“Unless they're all lying.”

“They must be,” [REDACTED] said. “Because I don't feel particularly [REDACTED].”

———

“Sweet Jesus,” the man said. “Are you the real Basilton Bitch?”

Basil thought of removing his sunglasses to emphasise his glare, but the [REDACTED] sun was unforgiving, and it made him miss England more than a decade of [REDACTED] had. He hoped the man suffered from a severe case of mispronunciation of plosive sounds, but the whole high-on-life vibe he had going on seemed to point in a totally different direction.

Basil straightened his back. “It's Mr Grimm-Pitch to you, thank you.”

The man's grin didn't falter. He extended his hand with the enthusiasm of a puppy eager to be pet. Basil didn't recoil (10 points to him for another successful social interaction), but he stared at the unwanted gesture until it was no longer in his field of view.

———

“I thought you said you'd stop with your panic-induced online shopping. Not that you'd start ordering literal trash.”

@wellbelesbian @urban-sith @tea-brigade @sillyunicorn @mostlymaudlin @facewithoutheart @palimpsessed @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @johnwgrey @fatalfangirl @prettylightsbigcity @whatevertheweather @confused-bi-queer @moodandmist @bookish-bogwitch @letraspal @dragoneggos @captain-aralias @takitalks @excalisbury @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @gekkoinapeartree @bazzybelle @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @basiltonbutliketheherb @ivelovedhimthroughworse @nightimedreamersworld @artsyunderstudy @ionlydrinkhotwater @yellobb @orange-peony @ic3-que3n @whogaveyoupermission @yeonjunenby @erzbethluna @larkral @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @shrekgogurt @raenestee @onepintobean @stitchyqueer @hushed-chorus @theearlgreymage @technetiumai @jbrrring @stardustasincocaine @angelsfalling16

#wip wednesday #my writing

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namedafterflowerstournament · 9 months

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Botanic Tournament : Basils Bracket !

Round 2 Poll 2

#botanic tournament #tournament polls #basils bracket #round 2 #basil stag hare #redwall series #redwall abbey #redwall #baz pitch #basilton pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #simon snow #simon snow trilogy #carry on

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sucrosette · 4 months

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★— ⋆｡˚ [Cleansed]

For Day 27 of Carry on Countdown 23, Gift. @carryon-countdown

Filthy Anniversary Smut continued, or: aftercare smut. As Simon Snow and Basilton Grimm-Pitch deserve.

Rated more explicitly E than the first part of this. For Baz being overly gentle and forceful at the same time.

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It’s two in the afternoon and they haven’t left bed yet. Well, that isn’t entirely true. And it was less that they hadn’t left bed yet, but more like Baz was keeping Simon in their hotel bed. Simon might have tried to claim it was against his will, but that would’ve been a load of shit. Simon had stumbled into the bathroom at some point after nine in the morning, but then he’d stumbled right back into bed after. He didn’t want to leave bed as much as Baz didn’t want him to.

Baz, on the other hand, had left to get the breakfast they’d ordered in from the restaurant. French toast, slathered in berries and syrup and whipped cream, with fresh coffee and a side of bacon for each of them, absolute decadence in their morning after. He’s also left twice over the course of the morning to get Simon more water, a crime, according to Simon Snow himself. A crime in which he was the primary victim.

Simon’s whining only makes Baz laugh harder while he forces Simon to hydrate.

It’s a slow morning, a tender morning, and Baz spends his spare moments kissing over the burns and scratches and bruises over Simon’s skin. Every kiss presses into his skin like a gift, every sore spot treated with the balm of Basil’s lips, over and over again until Simon is squirming from too much attention.

“Baz–” He gasps as Baz presses another kiss into the dips of Simon’s hips, it’s been hours like this. Simon’s tail slides around Baz’s waist and drags him closer, “–think m’worked up enough, don’t you?”

Baz hums his answer, nipping over soft skin while his hands rub soft over Simon’s thighs, his kisses trailing over the soft curve of Simon’s stomach, tongue darting over sensitive dips in skin and tasting still more of his love.

He keeps going even as Simon asks again.

And again.

And still again.

He keeps trailing kisses over every inch of skin until Simon’s been near fully cleansed on Baz’s kisses, the tender touch of lips and tongue soothing every sore, both phantom and all to present. Baz pushes Simon onto his stomach and repeats the process all over again. His hands join lips in those tender attentions over still more hypersensitive skin, over wings and tail and the precious nape of Simon Snow’s neck. It’s that spot that practically unmakes Simon, collapsing in on himself.

“Basil–” Simon groans out against the mattress, his arms no longer supporting him properly, his knees nearly failing him seconds later, “You can’t– you can’t keep teasing me… I can’t take it anymore… I’m gonna bloody burst, please–”

Baz licks a long stripe up Simon’s spine and then kisses his way back down again, pausing at the small of his back, “You’re not still sore from last night?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Simon groans, legs spreading apart for Baz to slide between all the easier, “You made me like this, now do something about it.”

The demand makes Baz laugh soft over Simon’s skin, but he moves for Simon all the same. He presses a thumb against that tight hole, red and abused still from the night before, but Simon swallows up that digit all the same. His palm presses soft against where Simon wanted him most, where he was aching for Baz’s attention, leaking for it, but he keeps his touches slow and soft. Baz stretches Simon with languid, lazy circles of that thumb inside him, rocking his hand steady against that point until Simon’s practically sobbing for more.

His voice is a stuttering mess for Baz, a litany of pretty pleases, need you, want you, miss you and more, all for Baz to soak up. Baz answers each and every soft, pleading cry with his own soft comforts. A kiss over the jut of Simon’s hipbone, or a teasing nip just under his ribs, or a soft reassurance. “I’m still here, love, I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you,” Baz murmurs in a voice so dark, midnight would envy him.

His thumb slips free of that well used hole, freeing his hand more to rub over that ache, stroking slow over it, soaking Simon that much more in his own mess. Baz shifts his way back down, forcing Simon’s tail to adjust, slipping around his arm inside while Baz’s tongue finds that needy hole, dipping just inside, teasing still more, until Simon’s lost nearly all capacity to speak.

His tongue dives in deeper, finding the remnants of their mix and swallowing it down greedily, and then right back in to find still more. Baz moves in slow circles. His tongue, his fingers and palm all work in tandem, at that torturous pace that has Simon near in tears. He knows Simon’s begging for release, begging to be unmade at the will of Baz’s attentions and only Baz’s attentions. He knows Simon’s burning for it now, but he doesn’t bother hurrying the process.

Baz waits.

Baz waits until his palm’s a mess with Simon’s want, his fingers slipping all too easily over skin, all too raw from his unrelenting touches. Baz waits until Simon’s sobbing has gone quiet, his voice too raw from mindless begging to make words happen the way they’re supposed to. Baz waits until Simon can’t stop himself anymore, until he knows he could just… breathe cold air against Simon’s aching hole, against that point, dripping with want, and make him fall apart.

And that’s exactly what he does.

Baz slides his hand just so, fingers flicking over that heated, soaked point just once before he pulls back enough to breathe cold air over him, and Simon spills sloppy onto the sheets beneath him.

Baz dives back in before Simon’s anywhere near done. Simon’s knees give out while Baz’s tongue slides over every aching inch, catching that spend, swallowing down as much of the mess as he can, cleaning his love all over again as he works Simon through it, humming like it’s the only breakfast he’d really wanted this morning.

Simon’s chest is heaving, his wings are twitching and his tail is flicking mindlessly. Baz sucks a soft mark into the curve of Simon’s ass, his chin dripping with Simon’s mess and his own saliva, and he knows he could keep going, but he has grace enough to give Simon room to breathe.

“Done?” He asks quietly, but Simon’s already shaking his head. “No?” Baz asks again, letting loose a low laugh.

“Mmn-mmn,” Simon purrs for him, “Not till you are,” he manages, voice broken but perfectly content.

“You’re sure?” Baz already knows the answer though.

Simon’s tail flicks his arm for the tease. “You too…”

“You can’t even move, love…”

“Don’t care,” Simon huffs, “You too.”

“More water first,” Baz is already standing to get it and Simon groans out loud for it. Baz tugs at Simon’s tail before he can find the words to his annoyance, “No protests or I’ll make you wait longer.”

Simon pouts, but swallows the urge to protest, and it’s far from the last thing he swallows.

#Carry On Countdown #COC 2023 #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #my writing #there were no pants from the start #Basil being in charge is my kink #author highly recommends aftercare sex #author also recommends overstim

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