And everyone around me is having babies and the babies are very cute so I wanted to Simon and Baz as babies with their dads
Baby Baz is babbling away at Malcolm and baby Simon thinks being held like a floppy football is a fun game that this weird adult that hangs around his mom sometimes plays with him 😅*
*taking a page out of MRB and making it so Davy is still Simon's bio dad but I imagine he and Lucy mutually agreed she'd have full custody
Taskmaster but fantasy and Greg Davies is still a normie who takes almost everything done with an attitude of critical equilibrium.
"Yes, I know that you didn't touch it with your actual hand, but isn't Mage Hand just a projection of it?"
And in the comments of the youtube videos you have arcanoscientists arguing between themselves about the spirit of Mage Hand versus its actual practice and why Hugh Dennis should have been allowed to get away with a really shitty skeleton football game because 'one of them looks like he's having fun'.
hey, what's up! i hope everyone is having a good week. i'mma bit under the weather today, honestly, but on the bright side, my lovely lady is home with me! 😄
thank you so kindly to @hushed-chorus @ivelovedhimthroughworse @imagineacoolusername @cutestkilla @larkral @you-remind-me-of-the-babe AND @artsyunderstudy for tagging me today, i was so excited to see what y'all've been working on, and like holy shit, this is such a wicked talented fandom!? for real, y'all are so brilliant.
i've reached that point in Without Sun where i don't have much recent progress to share, all the ✨ spoiler-y ✨ shit is happening, so i'mma share a snippet from an earlier scene instead today. 🫥
November cuts them with a cold breeze.
“Right,” Simon replies tightly, dropping his gaze. Around his knees, the heather billows, heaving wind through the stalks like the hills are a chest breathing beneath him. He chews the inside of his cheek. “Look, if—” The Mage tilts an ear in his direction. “Sir. If you’re going to ask me to leave again, my answer is still no. I know you’re worried about safety, but. There’s only been one attack this year, and. I mean. Well, my marks have even been better and, and I just think—”
“Simon.”
He plucks a twig from his sleeve. “Sir?”
“I’m not here to talk about that.”
Simon looks up, staring into the Mage’s sharp, steady face. Something grim is always lurking behind the impatient blue of his eyes, but he appears sincere, the corners of his mouth have softened.
“Then?” Simon asks. “Is it the Humdrum? Have you found something?”
“It’s an arrest.”
“Oh.”
The Mage grasps his upper arms. His hands are kind of like Simon’s. Broad, heavy palms that are thick and rough with calluses. His thumbs press down into the hollows between Simon’s collarbones and shoulders like he’s trying to punch a set of holes through him. “Simon,” he says again, seriously, dipping his head forward, “you trust me, don’t you, my boy?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Good.” The Mage nods, his fingers biting, almost bruising. “You’re a good boy.”
Simon smiles. A real smile, because he doesn’t know yet what the Mage is about to say next, and those words do mean something to him. Something they can only ever mean to boys like him. Boys who start with nothing and nobody to love them. Boys who are named by a marker, and raised by a dozen careless strangers.
Tag, you're it! 🪄 @raenestee @thewholelemon @blackberrysummerblog @captain-aralias and anyone else who might feel like sharing something, i would love to see what you're working on!
Thank you for tagging me: @ic3-que3n @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @forabeatofadrum @artsyunderstudy @stitchyqueer @shrekgogurt
I haven’t been able to write too much because I’ve been READING. Real books!!! I’ve started reading AFTG. So i’ve been busy
HOWEVER, I wish I could share a bit of Chapter 12 of my Ballet AU but everything is very spoilery, so I will just show you this secret WIP I have:
It’s going to be veeeery long and very very angsty. This fic is me trying to prove the hypothesis I have with @erzbethluna that MalMage is canon.
If this is not of your like, go away!
Watford Young MalMage, everybody:
DAVY
“So, I talked to eighth year Ryan from the Old Families,” I start. “He said you were looking at Maya in a weird way, and that you were freaking her out. Do you care to explain that?”
“Maya?” he asks, finally turning to me. “Maya Bates? No, of course not. She’s not my type.”
That’s what I thought.
“But you were staring at someone?” I go on.
He looks uncomfortable. He was.
“Well…” he starts.
I raise my eyebrows, silently asking him to continue.
“You don’t like her,” he says.
“I don’t like anyone. Only you.”
“I know, I know.” He stands up, and walks anxiously around the room, scratching his arm. “She’s from the Old Families.”
“Malcolm. Almost everyone at Watford for the past thousand years are from the Families. Would you mind being a bit more specific?”
“I know, but she’s from the Old Families.”
The chair knocks the floor when I stand up too quickly.
“You fell for Natasha Pitch?!” I scream. “Are you stupid? The Pitches are the most arrogant, self centered arseholes anyone knows, not to mention elitist, racist, and very possibly clasist, and you fell for her?”
“I wouldn’t say I fell for her, but—”
I take him by the shoulders, making him focus on me.
“You can’t be with her,” I say, shaking him. “If you marry her, you—”
“Whoa!” He cuckles nervously. “Whoa. Hold on.” He pushes my hands off him gently. “Who said I was going to marry her? It’s a silly crush, Davy. I’m telling you I find her pretty, and you’re already picturing us with a family in a big house, and a dog.”
Please, tell me I’m not the only one who’s invested by MalMage
“Should I weep over her death?” he asks, his voice too loud. “When it means a generation of magickal children have learned how to use their power? Am I supposed to be sorry? I’m not sorry! What is the greater good?”
I still couldn't find a description for the mage besides brown hair and a 'pencil thin moustache' so I went with that... And accidentally made him hot... I'm not proud of it...