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#the mage really went too far trying to hide that he's Simon's father
wolfywordweaver · 3 years
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Trans Mages Week 2021 DAY 6 - solidarity, pastel/punk
NOTE: this started out with the idea that Baz's dad didn't accept him being gender fluid but has somehow morphed into something a bit more. There's MalMage, a brewing storm, genderfluid vampire Baz, potentially gender confused Simon, biker gangs, magic, fantasy world building, 50s inspired towns, and political intrigue. What a mess. I don't know where I'm going with this, but it's possible that I'll morph this into a full blown thing.
The roar of the motorcycles was a familiar buzz in Simon’s ears, something that usually lulled him into a state of zen. However, this time there was a change in the feel of the roar, and he could catch a different scent on the wind. There was a town up ahead.
It took conscious effort to keep his folded wings from stretching out behind him at the thought of being able to make a stop and maybe even spending a couple of days somewhere. The Mage’s Men had been on the road for a while, slowly making their way to a kingdom out further past the High Mountains.
There had been a few odd jobs here and there to keep them fed and content until they got this big one, and he was hoping that maybe the nearing Watford would have a little something to do. It had been a while since he’d tasted a nice hot scone or something sweeter than a pack of discount sandwich cookies.
Davy threw back a few hand signs and Simon grinned widely. A much needed stop was just what they needed. The rest of the ride into down was a blur, and soon the whole pack was taking a quick tour to gauge the place.
Watford was a lot like most of the little towns hovering outside of capital cities. Coven’s magic signature was over everything, a bond of protection should anything befall the small town. Davy was not a huge fan of Coven, and Simon glanced nervously at the man.
Davy Mage was the leader of their gang, a man with great vision, testicular fortitude, and a willingness to do whatever it took to reach his goals. He’d earned the title of Mage after years of battle with another family, and Simon was quite lucky to have gained the title of Heir.
Whether Davy was his actual biological father or not was up for debate, but Simon tried not to worry himself about things like that. Davy was the closest thing he had to a father, and knowing the truth of the matter wouldn’t change anything. Any curiosity or whisper of discontent was tucked deep down with all the other things he didn’t want to think about.
Right now, the only thing he wanted to think about was finding a nice inn that offered hot breakfast. Freshly cooked food and a soft place to sleep sounded blissful, and he definitely needed a shower. Offing another round of goblins after his head had left him in dire need of getting cleaned up. Even his leathers had gotten messy in that battle.
Thankfully, the Mage didn’t change his mind and direct them out of town. They rode through the town square, taking in the views of shops and concerned looking citizens. It was normal to have people frightened of them until their intentions were made known.
There were a lot of wandering gangs that were carrying out missions from the larger kingdoms, and most towns never knew if they were on a hit list or not. If these guys were under the protection of Coven, they might be less than friendly for the duration of their stay, but Simon didn’t care. It’s not like he planned on settling here or anything.
Just a bit of food and rest was all he needed to be ready to move on.
The whole gang pulled up to a modest looking inn, and then the engines were shut off. Groaning in relief, Simon swung his leg back over and off his bike before allowing his blood-red wings and tail to stretch out. Premal jumped back in annoyance so that he didn’t get knocked off his feet, but Simon couldn’t be bothered to care.
Everyone knew that they needed to keep their distance.
“Simon,” the Mage barked as he pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair, “get up there and scope things out.”
“Yes, sir!”
Flying was one of the only things better than riding down the open road, Simon thought as he felt the wind whipping around his body. The large wings at his back beat loudly, working to bring him up high enough to skim his hands along the underside of a few stray clouds.
Whooping loudly, Simon dipped and rolled through the wind as he examined the area around Watford. There didn’t seem to be any signs of danger and the Kingdom of Coven's capitol was far away enough that they would probably keep their nose out of the Mage’s business unless a fight broke out.
He was surprised to see a rather large school for such a small town, but shrugged it off and made his way back down to the Mage.
“Looks clear,” he panted upon landing.
The Mage nodded and thoughtfully stroked his neat thin mustache. “Good, good. No signs of the Coven moving?”
“Nope.” Those green eyes narrowed in annoyance and Simon quickly corrected himself. “Uh, no, sir.”
“Perfect.”
All of the Men waited outside while Davy and Simon went in to negotiate a stay. Things almost always tended to work better in Davy’s favor when he had Simon hanging around.
Blue eyes took in the modest décor of the place and noted that there was a lot of school memorabilia. These people were awfully proud of their school. The goat on the coat of arms was kind of silly, he thought. Once the negotiations were through, Simon was put in a room with two other Men and they all unpacked their few belongings.
Simon enjoyed a hot shower and washed off the reminders of the past few weeks. He still had a healing wound from a sword to his side a couple of weeks ago, but there was already a scaly patch over it helping it heal.
The scales would fall off after it was completely repaired, another strange bit of the magic that always seemed to be around him.
Once he was washed clean and in fresh clothes, Simon got the Mage to magically hide his wings away so that he could better explore the shops. There had been too many mishaps with his wings and broken goods and the Mage didn’t want to pay for anymore so he would begrudgingly oblige.
With all that finished, Simon strode out on the town in his cleanest pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with his leather jacket over it. Premal had cleaned his leather’s already, a kind gesture considering that Simon had been too scared to try again after catching his first pair of leathers on fire with his attempt to clean them.
Everything about Watford felt clean and quaint. There were perfect rows of homes, perfectly manicured and maintained gardens and yards, and rows of tidy shops he could explore. There weren’t really any children to be seen, and Simon realized that they were all probably still in school.
That thought made him a little sad. He’d never been to school. For the first half of his life he had actually been feral, a wild beast of a thing whose only thought was keeping itself alive. Then the Mage found him and took him in, teaching him the ways of people.
The magic that ran hotly through his blood belonged to the world of people, but the wings and tail were something else entirely. He’d heard the whispers of “dragon” often enough to wonder if that was his origin, but it had been too long since people had even seen dragons much less conversed with them. No one knew anything of dragon children.
Walking through the bookstore, Simon allowed his fingers to drag over the spines of the books, enjoying the different textures and designs. The shop keeper’s eyes were firmly planted on him, but the man said nothing. None of the adults did.
Maybe it was his tail, visibly swaying behind him. It hadn’t ever been as much of a nuisance as his wings, but it was still odd enough to put most people off. It made it hard to even get a date these days, but he still didn’t like hiding away these parts of him, especially for something as fleeting as a one-night stand.
“When does the school let out?” Simon asked with what he hoped was a casual tone.
The man blinked at him in surprise. “Three o’clock for the young’uns,” he replied with a gruff voice. “And 4:40pm for the graduates. Same as all the other schools.”
“Ah.” The man was looking at him even more curiously and Simon found himself leaving the store rather quickly afterwards.
A café called Pritchard’s caught his attention, and soon Simon was happily tucked in a corner scarfing down a pile of steaming hot scones. He’d never had sour cherry ones before, but was beginning to think that he had a new favorite now.
The bell over the door rang, and Simon peeked over the high-backed booth to see a small group of students come in chattering.
“Uncle Pritchard, is it true?” a beautiful person asked. She was taller than everyone else and had quite a striking figure.
Pitch black hair was neatly wrapped in a bun at the nape of her neck. She had a lovely silk blouse with wildflowers on it tucked into a sensible black pencil skirt and very shiny shoes. Simon always liked shiny shoes.
He also quickly noticed her pointed ears and the fangs peeking out over her lovely lower lip. A vampire? In this little place? The fact that no one was staking her meant that she was probably a pet or something, so he settled himself down and observed as quietly as possible.
“Kids, you shouldn’t be out-” the man tried before he was interrupted.
“They let us out early,” another young lady stated with the authority of a warlord. “Are there really mercenaries in town?”
He rather liked this one’s wild hair. It was tied back with a thinning ribbon and Simon wondered if the poor thing would give out and set loose the mane of curls.
“Now, now-”
“A gang in town!” Someone else squealed excitedly. “I can’t believe it! Nothing this exciting has ever happened before!”
“Our town had a showdown of Mages barely fifteen years ago,” the first girl snapped in annoyance.
“Yeah, but we were like babies,” someone else added.
“Kids,” the café owner tried again, his eyes nervously shifting towards Simon.
“Do you think they’re here to challenge Mr. Grimm?” the second girl asked with a grave tone. “He won’t go down without a fight.”
The first girl looked almost ill at the thought and the man quickly reached out and took her elbow. “Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. No one’s challenging anyone. They’re just passing through.”
Simon stuffed the last scone into his mouth and continued to enjoy watching the others hovering around the cash register. There was something quite refreshing about seeing other people his age who were so clueless to things like how gangs operated. Sure, there were a few roving bands of bonety hunters who would ride into places and raze them without provocation, but those were usually taken out by gangs like the Mage’s Men.
It was bad for business all around to have groups destroying villages and cities, so kingdoms wouldn’t put up with behavior like that. Even as a roaming gang with no kingdom loyalty, the Mage’s Men knew better than to get the ire of an entire kingdom pointed in their direction.
“Uncle, are they-”
“Really now, kids,” the man interrupted exasperatedly. “Do you want to order something or not?”
They all looked taken aback by his response and Simon grinned. The man obviously didn’t want them saying anything to offend him while he was sitting right there. It meant that he was scared too. Simon wasn’t easily offended, and really couldn’t care less about what some small-town gruffs thought about him or his family.
Deciding to take pity on the man and give them all a chance to gossip in peace, Simon stood up, his boots hitting the tile loudly. Everyone at the front of the building jumped in shock and Simon kept his most confident smile in place as he stared at them all.
“The food was good, mate,” he addressed the older gentleman and tossed a few bills on the table.
His eyes moved towards the group of young adults and found that tall girl. Her legs were even more stunning now that he could get a good look. With a brazen wink in her direction he strode right up to the front door and decided to head back to the rest of his group.
He hadn’t got more than a few meters from the café before the bell was ringing and there were marching footsteps behind me.
“Pardon me, you brute,” a voice demanded, “but you owe me an apology!”
Turning back in amusement, Simon glanced up into those indignant silver eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” she snapped back.
“What for? Don’t like a compliment?”
A blush burned on her grey cheeks, but she stood her ground.
“Th-that wasn’t a compliment!” she protested. “That was rude! I am not a piece of meat to be gawked at!”
Blue eyes roamed over her more carefully this time and noted the more distinguished larynx and the deeper pitch of voice. “It’s not gawking, doll. Just admiring.”
The sputtering person seemed completely thrown off, caught somewhere between being even more offended and slightly flattered.
“It’s rude to stare!” the vampire shot back, seemingly not understanding why Simon wasn’t apologizing or backing down.
“People stare at me all the time,” Simon replied honestly. “I don’t waste my energy on caring whether they’re being rude or not.”
Those grey eyes looked completely baffled for a moment before the motion of Simon’s tail caught their attention. Eyebrows shot up and that lovely mouth gaped for a moment, allowing a better view of those darling fangs. It was nice to get to admire such things when they weren’t gnashing at you.
“Oh, you’re a...”
Simon shrugged. “They don’t have a name for my type, doll. Are you someone’s pet?”
“P-pet?! Not at all! My father is the mayor of this town!”
“Ah.” Simon gestured towards his ears. “Don’t really see a lot of you out and integrated into the towns. Makes sense with your dad, though.” The vampire self-consciously touched at their ear and Simon stepped forward carefully. “I don’t mean it it in a bad way, doll.”
“I’m...” The vampire coughed to clear their voice and shook their head. “My name is Baz. Please call me that. And it’s they/them.”
Simon jutted out his hand in greeting. “Simon. Good to meet you.”
“He/him?” Baz asked carefully as they took his hand.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Davy had called him a boy from the moment he captured Simon, and the young man had never given it a second thought.
“A pleasure, Simon,” Baz greeted politely.
Warmth filled his body and Simon enjoyed the feel of that hand in his. Baz had oddly rough hands for someone as posh as they were, but they also had a smokey smell to them that made Simon feel comfortable and almost...safe.
Not one to ever let an opportunity pass by, Simon stepped even closer and put on his most charming grin. “Say, Baz, wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” The vampire seemed to choke on their breath, but Simon pushed forward. “I’d like to get to know you.”
He wasn’t certain if this place had certain courting rules, but he was sure that the Mage could get him out of any jam he walked into. The man knew how much he liked holding hands and getting close to other people. He’d tried something serious with a previous Mage’s Man but it hadn’t gone over well and the guy his head smashed in by a Numpty as Davy’s warning to the others to keep their hands off of Simon.
Simon was an Heir and weapon first and foremost, and having people fuck with his emotions was a no-go. So, Simon was limited to random dates and one-night stands any chance he could get.
“Uh, I...” Baz swallowed thickly and nodded. “Okay.”
“Can you come out for lunch?”
Baz nodded and Simon felt a happy warmth fill his body. “Alright. Here at noon, yeah?”
“Okay,” Baz responded shyly. There was a definitely blush burning on their cheeks.
Simon squeezed Baz’s hands and then quickly made his way back to the rest of the gang.
*****
The café owner glanced nervously between the two young people as he set the strawberry milkshake between them, but Simon ignored him and focused completely on Baz. The Mage had struggled to hide the wings away that morning because Simon’s magic was buzzing excitedly, but they were thankfully still tucked away.
While Simon was dressed the same as the previous day, he took the time to admire Baz’s outfit. They looked so polished and put together with their tan slacks, shiny belt, green polo shirt, and a fuzzy sweater neatly hung over their shoulders and loosely tied around their collarbones.
“How long have you been a vampire?” Simon asked dreamily as he leaned forward and rested his chin in one hand. Baz really was quite pretty.
“Since I was five,” they replied softly, a hand automatically coming up to cover the fangs.
“Don’t cover them,” Simon stated softly. “I like seeing them.”
“Oh,” Baz replied with a slight squeak before they leaned forward and drank down a bit of the shake.
There were two straws in the glass and Simon felt his body throbbing with happy energy. Everything about this place was sweet and delightful!
“I think you’re pretty,” Simon added, falling back on his tried and true brashness. He enjoyed seeing the blush light up on those cheeks. “Beautiful really.”
“You’re quite outspoken,” Baz retorted, but the smile remained on his lips. “And a flatterer.”
“I like to speak the truth,” Simon replied honestly. “And if I like you, I don’t see the point in not saying so.”
“Don’t you like to get to know someone first?” Baz asked curiously.
“I’m getting to know you now,” came the laughing response. “What’s your favorite scone?”
And with that, the two of them carried on an easy conversation. The strawberry shake dwindled down between them, and when Simon slid his hand across the table to drag his finger against the back of Baz’s hand, the vampire didn’t pull back. Their fingers hooked together as they talked, and both left lunch with dreamy looks on their faces.
As Simon meandered back to the inn, Davy Mage stood in a hall quite familiar to him and stared at a large portrait. The woman painted in it stared down at him severely, and he couldn’t keep the curl of distaste off his lips.
“What are you doing here, David?” a tired voice asked.
Davy looked over to see Malcolm Grimm, his all-white hair a shock from the memories he had of the man.
“You look old,” he sneered angrily.
Malcolm didn’t rise to the bait. He just stood next to the younger man and stared at the portrait. “Grief ages you, David.” The men stood next to each other quietly, each reminiscing over times gone by. “What are you doing here?”
The truth was dangerous, so Davy danced around it. “Passing through to another job. A Mage’s work is never done.”
Most Mages through history had settled into a town and worked from there, but Malcolm didn’t want to point out the obvious.
“Are you happy?” he asked, a heaviness in his words that had been there for so many years.
“What do you care?” Davy snapped, the irritation bubbling up.
“I’ve always cared.”
“Fuck you!” Davy growled as he wheeled on the taller man and shoved him. “Fuck you!”
The hurt was heavy in the air and Malcolm stared at the white-knuckled fists clenching his lapels. He’d seen that same grip so many times already and it opened up the wounds of his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, knowing that nothing would make it better.
“We’ll be leaving soon,” Davy replied after a few moments, a crack of emotion breaking through the words. “And I won’t ask again.”
“I know.”
Davy stepped back and released the creased material of the suit. He ran a hand through his neatly trimmed hair, a bronze brown that had once hung loose and carelessly over his forehead.
“I’ll be at the same place,” Davy added quietly, almost in defeat. “You’ll know where to find me.”
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insanescriptist · 6 years
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Rereading the Fairy Tail manga for research purposes, so having reached a little past chapter 100, here’s impressions:
-Natsu’s not a complete idiot
-He’s just a mostly thoughtless one who doesn’t see destruction as a bad thing or as something to avoid. Hence why he doesn’t try to limit it
-He’s actually bad at intentionally trying to destroy things. Accidentally however...
-Dragon Slayer Magic is technically using an Enchantment to temporarily transform parts of a person’s body to be like a dragon’s. Which makes sense considering an Enchanter made it.
-Considering that magic can change a person’s body in various ways, accidentally making it possible to turn into a dragon should have been expected.
-Actually considering that due to Lacrima, Cobra and Laxus don’t have inner dragons doing the anti-body thing to prevent that specific side-effect, chances are they will turn into dragons eventually if they keep using it.
-Same for Sting and Rogue, since their dragons are dead.
-A lot of Natsu’s attacks are actually magnified by the enchantment; Natsu’s sheer destructive power makes a lot more sense that way. Natsu however has no sense of scale so he does things like 500x times more powerful than he needs to
-Happy is a lot smarter than he appears; he’s just an obnoxious little shit-stirrer
-Lucy stayed with Mira while trying to find an apartment to rent; also it’s Mira that hands out a copy of Lucy’s apartment key to her team.
-So they’re not breaking in. Mostly.
-Gray so killed a person without blinking; he froze a guy’s head solid during the whole ‘Lullaby Incident.’
-It’s Gray’s speed with his magic that makes him dangerous
-Gray has his issues but he’s a lot more prideful than a person would expect; intelligent fighters are great okay?
-Lyon however I have issues with. Lots of. How did you get followers? Especially ones that were part of a mage guild? Did you put out an ad in Socerer’s Weekly? How did you pay for all the supplies you’d need for a group of people for three years? How did you even move Deliora?
-Also Gray’s from the ‘northern continent’ so um... plot-hole space? Unless there’s like a second ‘northern continent’ so the ‘western counties’ remark by Ur makes sense
-need to go look at that book Levy has on one of the splash pages; is a world map
-Actually there’s a lot more death, but it’s mook death so we don’t care. See how the army was ‘defeated’ by Eisenwald or whatever it was called. This is further combined with the mooks that died at the Tower of Heaven; not just in the slave revolt flashback but when the tower is destroyed and they’re crushed, followed by the unstable magic of Etherion doing whatever to the crystals
-Lucy knows she weaker than them physically; she at least makes up for it by having a wider background knowledge of magic. Too bad none of this ever gets followed up on in other ways.
-Lucy is uncomfortable taking jobs without the rest of the team; no wonder you’re a broke bitch. Taking jobs with just Natsu means your income is breadcrumbs.
-Lucy’s also had to have renegotiated her contracts with her keys several times; otherwise she’d have only access to all her spirits on Wednesday as that’s the only ‘day’ Aquarius originally let Lucy call her on.
-When Lucy got Loke? She went and accidentally renegotiated Celestial Spirit Magic contracts in general. Because for Loke’s story to logically work out, a mage could only have one Celestial Spirit out at a time. With Loke jamming Karen out, she couldn’t summon another.
-So Lucy made it possible for summoners to have two out at one time; clearly the time for Spirit Double Battles is near
-Also Karen probably had another magic of some sort. Celestial Spirit Mages by themselves are considered weak because there’s so many conditions built into using the magic; when to use the spirit mostly but also all the agreements between the contractors. Hence Lucy must have renegotiated all her contracts at least once, as Lucy uses her keys more indiscriminately as the series progresses. It’s a versatile magic, but limited to having the item, having the contract, being the day of able to use the spirit’s time/energy etc
-Lucy might want to look into learning some other magic to be more well-rounded; as intelligent as she is, runes would be easy enough. So would re-quip. You’ve lost your keys how many times now?
-Laxus what are you wearing when first introduced? Please tell me that it was laundry day and you were wearing a gag gift from Bixlow, even if Bixlow hasn’t been introduced yet. Because awful. Let Natsu burn it, please.
-Also Laxus, considering the size of the communication lacrima in the guild, how large is the one you’re carrying? Also how do they work because the one Urtear has with her later is like the size of a basketball. Not exactly portable.
-Cana is awesome and has great leadership skills; she lead the defense of the guild against Phantom while Erza was out cold and Mira was being useless
-The Guildhall clearly has several sub-levels. Mavis’ body is well hidden and probably the reason why the basement hasn’t flooded despite being next to the lake. Makarov, I love you but it’s probably Prech/Hades who reinforced the shit out of the sub-layers.
-Loke probably overdid it during the attack by Phantom Lord and probably shaved off a few months of his ability to stay in Earthland while defending the guild. No wonder he was looking so terrible after
-Juvia once dated Bora of Titan’s Nose; you know the guy in the first chapter that Natsu beat up? You’re better off without him.
-Juvia dear, a crush is not love and you’re being somewhat obsessive; that it only gets worse and is eventually reciprocated is less than ideal; maybe it’s those last few chapters of Naruto but I keep seeing Sakura/Sasuke parallels in the ‘chase the man down for a pity fuck, get it, get a child, have ongoing depressive episode’?
-I probably wouldn’t mind this so much if Juvia had more of a personality than ‘love struck, obsessive fan.’ Like what are your ideals, what do you like that’s not about Gray?
-Lucy’s tragic backstory is probably less lonely when you consider she probably could hang out in the local ‘large’ village; she’d be slumming it but she at least would have had friendly acquaintances
-The staff do love her and she them; Lucy just doesn’t have her father’s love
-Jude is a piece of work that deserves to be told off; also, marrying Lucy to nobility for land to expand business so your eventual grandson will inherit?
-Fuck you; Lucy should have slapped a bitch. As it is, refusing to do so probably put a nail in the coffin of your business Jude.
-There’s a difference between ‘army’ and ‘rune knight’ and the latter are solely answerable to the ‘Magic Council.’ Also the ‘Magic Council’ seems to be a continent spanning organization separate from the national government, meant to monitor and organize mage guilds.
-It being corrupt as it is later is not really a surprise as there’s really not a lot to hold them accountable; Jellal and Ultear infiltrated the council and it’s implied that Jellal through work for the Council was named Wizard Saint.
-There’s probably more than just those two who have infiltrated the ‘Magic Council’ organization. Those two are just notable for having reached such a high level, as they both had voting power.
-Erza’s actually a holder-type mage, who can also use caster-type magic
-Specifically re-quip is a caster-type magic but she uses both the inherent and charged abilities of her armor and weapons to further her strength and abilities physically and magically. She’s also got some telekinesis so she can also further use this to ‘wield’ more weapons
-Erza’s oblivious to a lot of social things, which is not surprising as she’s not actually the social type.
-She’s missed so many people having a crush on her: Simon, Lucy, Gray, Bisca... yeah, Erza turns people into useless lesbians. Gray somehow manages to avoid this, possibly through the power of stripping. More probably through friendship and being in a Rivalry with Natsu
-Rivals is a relationship status okay; someone where between committed and it’s complicated
-Erza’s ability to kill a bitch gets nerfed for plot purposes; namely Jellal
-Jellal, you being evil I like. You have personality. You’re an asshole but somehow charming with your teenage boy sense of humor and extra-ness. Your fashion sense however needs work.
-Jellal was clearly in charge of getting supplies and such for his minions/slaves. And yet he can’t import a fashion sense? Clearly skipped movie night too much
-Wally so did make movie nights happen; they can probably quote movies verbatim
-Jellal focused a lot on Natsu. Not for his magic but because he wanted to fight Natsu. No evil plotting here
-Simon, you are so pathetic, this is why you’re a plot point later, so you can actually be useful after death
-Also Erza, ‘Eternal Wizard Saint’? Aren’t you just going a little far in your imaginary funeral. Makarov’s speech was in character but, a little more realism
-Oh and there’s more mook death in the Tower of Heaven arc; I think I mentioned it before? Them getting crushed by a collapsing tower and then vaporized by unstable magic? No wonder Erza and Jellal were spit back out; plenty of people died.
-Erza probably ripped open her second origin/magic container here, trying to absorb and direct the unstable Etherion magical build-up
-The way the story is framed makes you think the dragons are out and in hiding somewhere, instead of being spirits inside their slayers or something
-It’s probably a flashback?
-Oh and Lucy can make fireworks too; clearly gate keys are not just for summoning spirits
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Office Crush
Rating: T
Genre: Fluff and light angst
Word Count: 4385
CW: Alcohol
Summary: Baz has been pining after his boss' son for ages. Office crushes are just the worst, huh? Based on "a kiss given to the wrong person" request.
Read on AO3
AN: Sorry this took so long! I've had some bad writer's block but I think I've kicked it. Hope you all enjoy some pining angsty Baz :D
Baz
Most people despise their jobs. I count myself lucky that I mostly enjoy it. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have it’s... disadvantages. One particular disadvantage actually. And he eats far too many cherry scones.
Mage & Associates is a very recent financial firm. It was started by David Mage (definitely not his real last name) and practically exploded. Now they manage the money of companies across the UK. I feel lucky to work here, despite my mother and father’s personal dislike of Mr. Mage. (Some old feud I really don’t care about.) What I didn’t expect was for Mr. Mage to have a loud, obnoxious, devastatingly handsome son.
I’m sitting at my desk, trying to finish another report, when someone crashes into the chair next to me.
“Hey how’s it going Bazzy?” he says, scone crumbs around his mouth.
“I told you not to call me that,” I mutter.
Simon hangs his head back with a groan, bronze curls falling back over the chair. “God why are you always so serious?”
“One of my last names is Grimm.” I brush some crumbs off my desk. “Why are you bothering me, Salisbury? I actually have work to do. Unlike you.”
“I have work! I’m just taking a cherry scone break. Want some?” Simon rips off a piece of his sour cherry scone and shoves it in my face. I swat his hand away.
“If you did your job with the same enthusiasm shown in your pastry eating, this company’s work would halved.”
He juts out his bottom lip. God why does he have to be so adorable when pouts? It’s maddening. My resolve almost falters. “You’re always so mean, Pitch.”
“‘Still so constant, lord.’”
“Pfft! Only you would insult me with Shakespeare.” I turn to stare at him. “Yes, I know Shakespeare. I went through the same school system as you.”
“You’re just full of surprises, Salisbury, I’ll say that.”
Simon grins. He has a very beautiful smile. I picture it in my head at least twice a day. “Thank you for that sort of compliment, Baz. Now,” he claps a hand over my shoulder (I try to ignore the jolt of sensation that runs through my arm), “I’m going to do your oh so beloved work. See ya later.”
He walks off with a little skip in his step. I lean slightly out of my cubicle, just watching him move, and sigh under my breath. God I’m pathetic. What am I, a bloody teenager? Here I am, 25 years old, with a bloody crush. This is my daily routine. Salisbury comes to my desk, I insult him because I’m too nervous to do anything else, and then I watch him longingly like a pining idiot. It’s my own personal hell.
“You’re so obvious, mate.”
“Gah!” I nearly jump out of my chair. I turn to glare at Niall, who’s leaning his head over my dingy grey cubicle wall.
“For fuck’s sake, Niall,” I huff, “give a man some warning.”
“Sorry for not announcing my presence while you were ogling Mage Jr’s arse.”
I look down, hoping to hide my blush. “I wasn’t ogling his arse...”
“Alright, casually observing his backside. That more appropriate?”
“Oh shut up.”
Niall makes his way to stand at the entrance, leaning against the side. I don’t look over in fear of seeing his definitely judging expression.
“How long have are you gonna keep pining after Salisbury and do absolutely nothing?”
“That is none of your business.”
“Um, it is if I have to keep suffering through your annoying infatuation. Every day I hear you two make jabs at each other, then listen to you whine about how hot he is and how he’s probably straight. C’mon Baz, just ask him out.”
I hunker down at my desk. Of course Niall doesn’t get it. When you spend years in the closet, crushes are hard enough as is. But crushing on your boss’ son? That’s a bloody minefield. What if he rejects me? What if he freaks out and tells his father? What if he just, never talks to me again?
“No,” I say flatly.
Niall just sighs. I can hear the exasperation just in his breath. “Fine, whatever. Just ogle his arse for the rest of your life.”
“I was not ogling!”
Christmas time rolls around very quickly. The office is decorated in horrendously bright reds and greens. Some of my more enthusiastic co-workers are wearing antlers or Santa hats. And we all know who the most enthusiastic man on the planet is.
“Ho ho ho! Happy Christmas one and all!” Simon shouts, bursting into our floor in a red hat.
Everyone claps. Except me. I just keep staring at my monitor instead of him.
“Now I’d like to cordially invite all of you to Mage & Associates’ annual Christmas party. There will be tunes, there will be booze, and there will be holiday cheer!” They erupt in whoops and hollers. (God, sometimes it’s like working in an American frat house.) “This Friday, floor 8, 9:00. Hope to see you all there!”
My overly excited coworkers give a last cheer. I wander up to see Simon bows extravagantly, the little pom-pom of his hat falling forward. I look back at my computer with it’s comforting emotionless numbers.
“So,” Simon’s voice rings in my ear, “you coming, Baz?” Of course he has to come sit next to my desk. Why does this man insist on torturing me?
I snort. “What do you think?”
He throws his arms on my desk and leans his chin on them. “I think you’re a ginourmous stick in the mud, with an even bigger stick up your arse. So you’ll be skipping it. Like a total Scrooge.”
“I’m not a Scrooge. I’d just prefer to not watch my co-workers drunkenly sing Christmas carols.”
Simon throws his arms up for effect. “But that’s the best part! People having fun, getting into the Christmas spirit.” He knocks my arm with his fist. “C’mon, Grimm-Pitch. Loosen up a bit.”
My eyes flick over to his. His sunshine grin makes my heart stutter. Fuck, I’m weak. I sigh and shake my head.
“Fine, I’ll come to the party.”
He squeals and claps. (It’s adorable.) “Awesome! Make sure to wear something festive.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What counts as festive, Salisbury?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Something green, something red, something red and green? If you own anything that’s not grey or black.”
I glare at him. “Very well. I’ll find something... festive.”
“Awesome!” He stands up, hands on his hips. “Can’t wait to see you there, Baz.”
He walks away again, but I don’t stare. All I can do is replay his words in my head. He can’t wait to see me, he can’t wait to see me . Dear lord, I have to stop over analyzing.
Salisbury is wrong. I do own something “festive”. A simple pine green button down shirt. I think my mother made me buy it because she had the same concern about my penchant for monochrome suits. (I wear colour, just not a lot)
The party decorations are nuts. Tinsel is strung up on every light fixture. Paper Santas are taped to the wall. A giant Christmas tree covered in sparkly ornaments is in the corner. Everyone is dancing and/or drinking. However, I am against a wall, deciding whether to roll my sleeves back up or leave them down. I can’t figure out which looks better.
“Oh my god, stop fidgeting!”
I turn to see Niall, holding two cups of eggnog. He hands one to me. “I’m not fidgeting.”
“Your shirt is fine . You are fine . Now stop picking at your damn shirt and try to have fun.” He raises up his glass. “Happy Christmas, Baz.”
I sigh, and clink (more like clunk) our plastic cups together. “Happy Christmas, Niall.”
We both take big sips and look out into the crowd. People are dancing and jumping to the remixed Christmas carols. Salisbury’s out there somewhere, I think. I haven’t seen him yet though. I know I shouldn’t be nervous (of course he’s going to be here) but my stomach is like a swirling thunderstorm.
“Are you going to dance?” Niall asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe,” I mumble, drinking more eggnog.
Niall chuckles. “Hey, that girl is wearing the same shirt as you.”
I look where he’s pointing, which is seemingly at Penelope Bunce, the purple haired woman in accounting who’s friends with Simon. She’s jumping around happily. We exchange witty banter in the break room constantly.
“Niall, what do you mean ‘that girl’? That’s Bunce. And she’s wearing a dress.”
Niall shakes his head. “No no, not Penelope. The blonde one next to her.”
I tilt my head head, then I see her. She’s dancing just behind Bunce and I have no clue who she is. (Guess she’s someone’s friend or date.) She is very pretty and very blonde, hair long and bouncing with the beat. Niall is right, sadly. We are wearing similar green button downs. Her’s is a woman’s version though. Still, I’m wearing the same shirt as someone else.
“Shit,” I groan. “Someone call the bloody fashion police to arrest me.”
“Oh stop it, it’s not that bad. C’mon, let’s dance!”
I sigh. “You go. I’ll join later.”
“Fine. Stand here, being a stiff. Simon will love that.”
I give Niall one long glare as he goes to the makeshift dance floor. He’s right though. I’m a total stiff who doesn’t know how to have fun. What the hell would Simon see in me?
“Baz! You came!”
Speak of the Devil, Simon comes rushing towards me. He’s wearing a ridiculously ugly bright red Christmas sweater. (Rudolph with a sparkly pom pom nose? My god.) The flush in his cheeks tells me he’s had more than one cup of eggnog. He swings an arm around my shoulders, making me tense up more than I’d like.
“Well I said I would, didn’t I?” I say as calmly as I can.
He rolls his eyes lazily. “Well yeaaaaah. But I wasn’t sure you were gonna show up. But you did! Which I’m very happy about.”
My cheeks almost flush as red as his. “Happy to be here, Salisbury.”
“Please, you should call me Simon. We’re all friends here!’
My heart tightens, nearly breaking. Of course we’re just friends. What else should I have expected? I shift uncomfortably and look down. “Yeah of course. We’re all, friends...”
“Let’s go dance!” He tugs roughly on my sleeve. Maybe I’m finally feeling confident, or maybe it’s the look on Simon’s face, or maybe it’s the eggnog. But despite my better judgement, I go with him.
Whoever picked this music (probably Simon) has terrible taste. Dubstep jingle bells? I move slightly to the beat. Salisbury jumps up and down, pumping his fist in the air. The multicoloured lights catch in his hair. God, how can it sparkle like that?
He reaches forward to lazily drape an arm across my shoulder, pulling us closer together. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest. Tolerating his presence so close to mine during work is hard enough. Now there’s less than half a foot between us. I can see his every beautiful mole, every glint in his blue eyes, every flash of that gorgeous grin. It’s almost more than I can stand, but like hell if I’m going to waste this opportunity.
I cautiously place my hands on his hips. Just lightly touching the material of his stupid jumper. He doesn’t shove me away. Instead, Salisbury lets his other arm fall on me. He smiles at me lazily, then pulls himself forward until I can feel his hot alcohol laced breath on my ear.
“You having fun Baz?” He whispers, making me shudder.
“Yeah,” I reply shakily under my breath.
“Good.”
He moves his hips back and forth under my grip. We’re so close I can feel every shift. I’m surprised my brain hasn’t exploded yet. Simon Salisbury is dancing with me. He’s almost dancing on me. Our bodies are so close together. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s intoxicating.
It’s too much.
I pull away. Simon looks at me confused.
“I’m uh, thirsty,” I say weakly. “I’m gonna get more eggnog. Want some?”
He smiles drunkenly. “Sure.”
I power walk away, trying to catch my breath. God what was that? I haven’t danced like that since my club cruising phase in first year uni. And I’m not a bloody teenager anymore! I shouldn’t be doing this, especially with a co-worker, especially with my boss’ son. But... it felt so damn good. I finally had Simon so close to me, the way I’ve wanted for months. Sadly, I’m a stupid coward, who is scared of his own feelings.
I put my hands on he eggnog table and hang my head. I’m such an idiot. I just threw away my chance. Maybe that was Simon’s way of telling me he has feelings too. And maybe I can fix it.
I pour two red cups full of eggnog, and turn to look for him. My eyes catch on an annoyingly red sweater wobbling around. With my nerves steeled, I walk towards him.
I’m a only few feet away when I see it. Simon, under that damned mistletoe, snogging the blonde woman I saw earlier.
I almost drop the cups. If my heart nearly broke before, it’s certainly breaking now. I fucked it up, like I fuck everything up. I ran away and he found someone better. A normal person would scream or cry or something idiotic like that. But I’m Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, dammit. So I just calmly turn around and walk away.
“Hey man,” Niall says as I pass him, “where are you going?”
“Home,” I reply coldly.
“Really? Why?”
“Because I want to alright?!” I snarl at him. He looks very taken aback. It’s not fair to him. I sigh and look down. “Sorry. Just, something happened and I really want to go back to my flat and be miserable, alright?”
Niall’s eyes soften. I think he knows it’s something to do with Salisbury, but he’s not going to say anything. (Good man.) He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Alright, mate. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
I grab my coat and make my way out of the building. I try not to think about everything, but my self destructive mind keeps pulling me back. How could I be so stupid? Of course Simon doesn’t feel the same. I’m a cold, mean, asshole coward who’s too scared to talk to him without sarcastic insults. The dancing meant nothing. He was drunk off his ass. He probably didn’t even realise what he was doing.
The second I get home, I’m going to open a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and feel sorry for myself for exactly one hour. Then I’ll move on. Hopefully.
I try to avoid my desk all of Monday. I do my work in the kitchen, or the lounge, or anywhere else that isn’t my cubicle. If Salisbury can’t find me, I don’t have to talk to him. Yes, I have adopted the logic of a toddler trying to avoid bedtime, but I have few other options.
I’m sitting in the breakroom for lunch, which I never do. Luckily no one else does either. There are far too many much nicer cafe for them to go to. Which leaves me alone with just my thoughts and chicken sandwich. A whole weekend later and I’m still thinking about that party. Dancing with my crush, then watching him kiss a girl under the mistletoe. Maybe that was his girlfriend. I know she doesn’t work here. That’d make sense. But then why was he dancing with me earlier? To mess with my head?
“Baz?”
That voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I look away and will my face from turning beet red.
“Hello, Salisbury,” I mutter.
Simon walks over to me and sits across. I regrettably look up slightly, only to see him in that grey suit he always looks stunning in. Fuck me, I’m screwed.
“What are you doing here? I’ve never seen you eat in the breakroom before.”
“I don’t usually.” Keeping my words brief almost keeps my blush from appearing.
He pulls out one of those blasted scones and munches loudly. “I, uh,” he says with mouth still full, “went to your desk this morning. You weren’t there.”
“You must’ve missed me.”
“Oh. I just uh, haven’t seen you since the party. You kinda disappeared.”
I scoff slightly, and say something despite my better judgement. “Didn’t really enjoy watching you snog your girlfriend. PDA is disgusting.”
His brow furrows, but in confusion rather than anger. “Girlfriend? What the hell are you talking about?”
What the hell is he talking about?! My blood is almost boiling. He can at least own up to it like a decent person. “That blonde girl you were kissing under the mistletoe. Who else?”
Simon hangs his head with a loud groan. “Ugh you saw that? Fuck.” He looks up with an apologetic expression. “That was Agatha. She’s not my girlfriend. I mean, we dated when we were 15, but of course that was a long time ago. Really, we’re just old friends. Her, Penny and me all went to school together. She lives in California now and we barely see each other. But she’s back in town for Christmas so I invited her to the party. For old time's sake.”
“Is that why you kissed her? For old time's sake?” Crap, I hope I don’t sound too defensive.
"No! Of course not..." He starts picking at his nails (a nervous habit I've noticed.) “Well, um, you see, this is embarrassing, but I can’t hold my liquor very well. And I saw her under the mistletoe and my drunken brain thought she was... someone else.” He turns bright red this time. Shit, Simon has a his own stupid crush. Guess we’re not that different after all.
I scoff again. It keeps me from totally losing my cool. “What, thought she was some other blonde? You must have a type.” I can’t avoid the nervous timbre of my voice near the end.
He shakes his head vigorously and looks away. “No, uh actually... I saw the green shirt, and for a second, I thought she was... you...”
I blink rapidly. My mind goes completely blank, and my heart just stops. I’m a hurricane of thoughts and emotions, trying to process his words. He thought it was me? Does that mean he wanted to kiss me? Me? As I’m going through this crisis, I don’t realise I’m staring blankly at a very confused Simon.
“Um, Baz?” he says, waving a hand.
With a head shake, I come back to reality. “Sorry. Did you just say, you thought it was me under the mistletoe?”
Simon keeps picking at his nails. “I, uh, yeah... look Baz, I know I should've said something before. I’ve been meaning to ask you out. But, you’re just so cool and stuff and I’m not! I-I can’t bloody think around you, let alone ask you on a date. I took a shot with the dance at the party, which seemed to go great. So when I saw the mistletoe I was like ‘hey, why not?’ But then Agatha pushed me off and you were gone. I realised I'd really lost my chance.” He starts running a hand through his curls, pulling at them nervously. “I’m really sorry for dumping this all on you. You don’t have to like me back. I’d understand. I mean, who’d want to go out with someone as weird as me?”
I can’t believe it. He’s just as nervous, shy, and awkward as me. Maybe even more so. He’s a fucking tragedy. He couldn’t be a bigger mess. We match.
I bring my chair around so we’re sitting side by side. I take his shaking hand in mine. He turns to me with wide blue eyes.
“So,” I say, “if you had kissed me, how would you have done it?”
Simon’s mouth falls open slightly. It’s his turn to stare blankly at me. “What?”
“If it really had been me under the mistletoe, how would you have kissed me?”
“I-I, uh... I’m not good with words.”
I reach out and cup his cheek. “Then why don’t you just show me?”
After a brief stare, he grabs my collar and smashes his mouth against mine. It’s a total mess (my teeth nearly cut his lips) but I really don’t care. He’s soft and warm, just like I always thought. I grab the other side of his face, bringing us closer. He grips my shirt like he never wants to let go. We move together fervently at first, all heat and passion. Our tongues and lips battle like two over eager teenagers. But bit by bit, it slows into long, languid kisses. My head is swimming. This is all I’ve ever wanted, and all I want from now on.
We pull away only when we’re out of breath. Simon is flushed all the way down to his neck. I move to hold his shoulders, but he doesn’t release my shirt.
“So,” he sighs, “this silly crush I have isn’t so one sided?”
I chuckle under my breath. “No. Hasn’t been for months.”
He lightly slaps my shoulder. “Thanks for telling me, prick.”
“Well you were the one who kissed your ex in front of me!”
“That was an accident!”
We fall into fits of laughter. His forehead falls against my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him. Slowly we calm down. But I keep holding him, revelling in the feeling of us being so close. He smells wonderful, like cinnamon and sour cherry scones.
“Are we boyfriends now?” He says into my shirt.
I giggle, stroking his hair. “I think we should go on a proper date first, Salisbury.”
He pulls back with one eyebrow raised. “You know, if we’re gonna date, you should probably call me by my first name.”
I frown childishly. “But that feels weird. I’ve always called you Salisbury.”
Simon shakes his head with a smile. “Fine, you big baby.” He plays with the lapel of my suit jacket absentmindedly (I love it). “Well, as a compromise, you could always use my middle name. Though it’s absolutely ridiculous.”
“Oh now you have to tell me!” (I’m far too excited about something so trivial.)
He chews his lips, then sighs. “It’s Snow. Simon Snow Salisbury.”
I bark out a loud laugh, making him frown. He looks down at the floor.
“Oh shut up,” he mutters. “Blame my Mum. She chose it.”
“No no no,” I say, tilting his chin up so we’re eye to eye. “It’s a fine middle name, love. It’s absolutely great.” He still looks upset, gorgeous face all pinched together. “Alright, just so we’re even, I’ll tell you my first name.” Now he looks interested (I’m going to regret this.) “My full name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”
Snow erupts in giggles. I’d be pissed if he didn’t look so damn beautiful when he laughs. He crushes his face into my shoulder, letting me feel every laugh induced sob. “Oh my god,” he sputters, “and I thought my parents hated me!”
“It’s a Pitch family name, so Mother desperately wanted it. But Father and I both hate it. Hence why I’m called Baz and not bloody Tyrannus.”
He moves back, wiping laughing tears away from his eyes. “Well then, I promise only to call you Tyrannus when I’m royally pissed off at you. That way you’ll know.” He flashes me a cheeky smile.
I run my fingers up and down his neck. “And I’ll only call you Simon when it’s just the two of us. So it’ll be special.”
God, he’s beautiful when he blushes. Simon leans up to kiss me again. Just a soft, sweet peck. It sends a warmth through my body I could get used to. We pull back and lean our foreheads against each other.
“This isn’t workplace appropriate behaviour, you know,” I whisper.
“Very true,” he sighs, “my father would have a fit if he saw us snogging in the breakroom.”
I pull back very quickly, hands clasped on his shoulders. “Oh my god that’s right. What if your father doesn’t approve? I cannot lose this job, Snow!”
Snow chuckles and pats my hand. “Don’t worry, love. If my father tries to fire you, he’ll have to deal with me .” My heart races at the protective look in his eye. “And just because we shouldn’t kiss here, doesn’t mean we can’t kiss somewhere else. Say, at a restaurant tonight after work?”
I grab his hand and squeeze it. “I would love that. But I'll only go if you’re still wearing this stunning grey suit.”
“Deal.”
I hear the faint sound of people entering the floor. I look at the clock. “I think our lunch is over. We should probably get back to work.”
Snow sighs heavily. “Fine. Let’s be responsible adults and all.” He gives me one last fleeting peck and stands up. “Meet at your cubicle at 6?”
My pulse races so wildly it’s insane. “Can’t wait.”
He flashes me a smile and walks off. I watch him like always, but it doesn’t feel shameful anymore. I think I’m allowed to do this. The idea of watching Simon Snow Salisbury only fills me with joy now, not also fear.
Once Snow is surely gone, I make my way to my own workspace. I have a very hard time focusing on the numbers with all the nervous anticipation stirring in my gut. My foot is literally bouncing, knocking against my deck.
“Hey what’s got you so jittery?” Niall asks from his usual spot hovering over the wall.
I turn to him with a wide smile “I promise to tell you all about it later out of the office.”
He narrows his eyes. “You’ve very strange, Baz Grimm-Pitch.”
“Yeah yeah, whatever."
However strange I may seem, I don't care. I'm too happy. I’ve got a date with the man of my dreams, who cares for me just as much as I care for him.
I’m certainly living a charmed life.
Aw my angsty son and loud son are happy. Good for them :)
And another kiss fic struck from the list! I'm starting university in a bit so I hope to get most of them done before that. If not then the last few will sadly not be finished until Christmas break. First semester will be murder ugh. Wish me luck, my wonderful fans. And thank you all for making this summer so great with all your wonderful requests and comments. It means the world to me <3
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beselten-pitch · 7 years
Text
Mutually Assured Destruction
Alternate last year at Watford fic, written by the previous owner of simon-and-basilton
Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve / Chapter Thirteen / Chapter Fourteen / Chapter Fifteen / Chapter Sixteen / Chapter Seventeen / Chapter Eighteen / Chapter Nineteen/ Epilogue
Chapter Fifteen
DAVY
The initial attack on the Pitch mansion was, really, the first battle of this war. The Mage had thrown the first punch, made the first move. He was the instigator. The attacker.
He should’ve been hated for it.
But he smiled, rubbed his beard, and told lies.
The Old Families have been launching clandestine attacks against us for years, we just kept it quiet to protect the public.
No, no, of course the students were never in danger.
This was a sensible retaliation. Of course, of course. Yes.
I’m not the villain here. I’m just trying to keep the World of Mages safe.
They believed him.
He came home at the end of the day and his skin was sticky with lies. All of this deception left a residue on his fingers, sweet and acidic. The air smelled like broken promises, like snapped bones and betrayal, and he’d started leaving a film of dust on everything he touched.
This was the price he paid.
Some spells worked that way. They took more than magic from you, gave more than magic back. Those sorts of spells were a handshake with darkness, because they corroded you. Ate away at your magic, your soul, perhaps your skin, eventually.
But if this was the price he paid to make a difference, it was worth it.
This is worth it, he told himself before going to another meeting with a furious parent, another speech before the Coven.
This is worth it, he told himself when he cast quiet spells over their ears, their eyes, so they would listen to his words and agree.
This is worth it, he told himself when he felt razors slicing deeper into his throat with every new time he cast the same charred and blackened spells.
This was sacrifice. This was the only way to be victorious.
 *
PENNY
He hadn’t taken it well, when she finally told him. Of course she’d told him, eventually. It wasn’t the kind of secret that you can hold onto for long, because it wasn’t hers. The impossibility of keeping a secret that wasn’t yours to keep became more evident daily, pulling at her, or perhaps pushing. Either way, it was forcing her forward.
She should have prepared something to say, something beyond, “Simon, I think you’re the Humdrum.”
Because that really wasn’t the best way to start this conversation, that was certain. Nevertheless, that was how it began.
She was sitting on Simon’s bed, studying. He was sitting on Baz’s bed, pretending to study, but instead feeling sorry for himself. He was being incredibly obvious about the fact that he was feeling sorry for himself, actually, what with the sighing and watery eyes and blank stare. Occasionally he’d turn his head just so, and it was clear that he was trying to breathe in the last fleeting scent of Baz.
Maybe she said it just to see his expression change. Maybe the secret just slipped from her grasp, as borrowed secrets tend to do. Maybe she thought it was for the best.
Whatever the reason, she looked up from her noun declensions and said, in a voice that probably lacked the empathy it needed, “Simon, I think you’re the Humdrum.”
It came out like an accusation, which wasn’t what she wanted.
He just stared at her for a second and then began to cry in earnest, which was also decidedly not what she wanted.
“Simon?”
“I thought that maybe that wasn’t it.”
“Simon?”
“You kept looking at me like that, like I was something to be afraid of. And I already thought that maybe I had something to do with the Humdrum—I’m not that stupid, you know. It’s not like I didn’t notice that a hole opened up when I went off. But…I guess I hoped that wasn’t it. That whatever it was you weren’t saying to me didn’t have anything to do with the Humdrum.”
She was quiet, then. Some things don’t need a response.
He pulled his sleeve over his left hand and wiped his tears away with it, and then he wiped his running nose. She glanced at the unused box of tissues on Baz’s desk and back at him, but stayed quiet. He was grinding his teeth together again—he was a box of bad habits, really.
“Do you really think so?” He whispered, as though maybe saying it loudly would make it more real.
“He looks like you, doesn’t he? And the correlation between you going off and the holes appearing can’t be coincidental.” She tried to sound like she was just stating facts, like she wasn’t blaming him. Because she wasn’t.
“So it’s true, then.” His voice was shaky again.  It had never truly stopped shaking, but now it was less like the foreshocks of an earthquake and more like the earthquake itself.
Then, after a moment, he said, “That’s it.”
Not ‘That’s it!’ like he was having a revelation. Not a Eureka moment ‘That’s it.’  Something bleaker than that. A sudden, stomach-churning realization kind of ‘That’s it.’
“What’s it?”
“That’s why he left.”
If the shakiness of his voice had been measured on a Richter scale, she was fairly certain that it would be at least a 5. Maybe higher. A house-shaking level of earthquake.
Baz. It always came back to Baz.
She wanted to scream at him, to beg him to get his head out of his ass, to ask him to just stop with Baz. To try to explain how big a thing this was, how huge and insane and bigger than Baz.
I just told you that you’re the Insidious Humdrum and you’re talking about Baz. Always Baz.
But she didn’t say anything at all. She finally unfolded her pretzeled legs and crossed the space between them, sitting lightly next to him on Baz’s blanket. She wrapped an arm over his trembling shoulders, pulling him against her side.
“He left because he knew. He knew I was the Humdrum, that I was the reason his home was destroyed. He hates me.”
“This isn’t your fault, Simon.”
He blinked at her, frowned a bit. He didn’t have to say a word for her to understand—Of course it’s my fault, Pen. Of course.
“It isn’t. You couldn’t have known. You didn’t do this on purpose.” She considered adding ‘Did you?’ but that much was obvious. Of course not. “This thing, it isn’t you.”
“The Humdrum is what’s left when I’m done.”
She nodded, because it was true. And hugged him, because he seemed to think that she would be too afraid to. And she wasn’t.
You don’t scare me, Simon.
 *
BAZ
Battle plans. Heated discussions. Plotting.
This house wasn’t haunted enough to feel like home, but it didn’t need to. This wasn’t a home. This was the War Room, and they were preparing to attack.
Fuck you, Simon Snow. Fuck you and your perfect face.
There wasn’t much to plan, really, in the end. His father and the other heads of the Old Families just liked to sit everyone around their big dining room table and try to see who looked like the most convincing villain.
Malcolm, with his white hair and easy smirk and powerful voice, almost always won. Baz sneered and looked vampiric and laughed when his cousins leaned away from him, and came in second. They were a particularly villainous looking pair, father and son.
So the Pitches and Grimms and other Old Families sat there trying to intimidate one another with their magic-gobbling spells and easily spent money and fancy suits. They talked of war, but most of them knew nothing about waging one. Malcolm was a farmer, really, in the end. The others were equally powerful but inexperienced.
They were business men playing at war strategists, and the result was a lot of fancy talk and no progress.
Baz only knew how to go to war with himself and with Simon Snow, but luckily that was all they needed him for.
Originally, they had wanted to depose the Mage quietly. But Fiona had showed up with her nose piercing and combat boots, given their subtle revolution the finger, and said, Fuck that, let’s destroy them.
Let’s do my sister proud.
So now, they were going in wands out, spells flying. The deal was this: no damage to the students or the buildings (this part was more of a suggestion than a rule). Intimidation is key. Fight the Mage’s Men and those who resist. Get rid of the Mage.
And to Baz, only one order: Kill Simon Snow.
 *
SIMON
There are no truly good ways to deal with the fact that you’re a supervillain. You could scream, or cry, or chuck yourself out a window.
Simon chose a silent, disintegrating method. He sat, leaned against Penny’s shoulder, and was quiet. He was good at being quiet. Words had always been far too slippery, far too easy to let go off. They escaped him frequently, injured him occasionally, and were generally uncooperative.
The situation did not call for words.
Well.
Maybe it would’ve been better if he said something, explained to Penny that he didn’t want to keep destroying things, tell her that he never wanted this. But all that went unsaid.
Outside, people were lounging in the courtyard or flocking towards the dining hall for dinner. Someone shouted, and there was a popping sound, and then a burst of laughter. It was cold, not in a biting frosty way, but just enough to require a jacket. The sky remained clear, though, and the slanting sunlight cut across the campus, throwing elongated shadows in seemingly random directions.
Some of the students had left. In the mad rush following the Mage’s attack on the Pitch mansion, Watford’s student body had been diminished significantly. Some of them were children of the Old Families that had been summoned home to prepare for war. Others left due to cautious, panicked parents who were calling the Mage irresponsible and dangerous.
Penny had only been allowed to stay under the condition that she called her mother at least once a day and told her that it was okay, that she was safe, that they hadn’t been attacked by the Humdrum or the Old Families or anyone else.
Somewhere, Baz was hiding away. Hiding and hating him.
Somewhere, the Mage was giving another speech, another interview, another apology.
But here, Simon was falling apart.
 *
BAZ
Everything was falling apart.
 *
DAVY
Everything was coming together nicely.
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basilplants · 3 years
Text
An underrated “fuck the Mage” moment is when he tried to get Simon to leave Watford so Simon wouldn’t see Lucy/his mom when the Veil lifted.
Yeah, fuck the Mage.
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