Murphy’s law

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  1. Watford Cove

    ao3feed-snowbaz:

    https://ift.tt/2OtsPTg

    by

    Baz Pitch only cares about smoking, skipping school, and riding his motorcycle. That is, until he meets a beautiful new kid who is bright everywhere Baz is dark. But a lot of things stand between them. Can they find a way together? Or will it make them fall apart?

    Based on “Punk/Pastel AU” request.

    Words: 3097, Chapters: 1/13, Language: English

    Series: Part 5 of Tumblr Prompts



    read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2OtsPTg
  2. 11
  1. Alexa, this is so sad.

    ao3feed-snowbaz:

    read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2OxpPWN

    by

    The Magic Words class uses memes to devise new spells. The Alexa meme plays a song that describes what you’re feeling.

    Words: 3926, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English



    read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2OxpPWN
  2. 11
  1. Bunk Beds

    ao3feed-snowbaz:

    read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2u4DATi

    by

    Over the past week and a half, I’ve witness three splinters impale Snow, had my head hit sitting up more than five times, and noticed Snow’s pissing pattern in correlation to what he has with dinner.
    Tonight, though, I decided to slip out early to feed. And maybe I shouldn’t, because now I’m facing a dilemma. Snow. In my bed.

    -

    Simon messed up and spelled the beds together into a bunk bed, and now they’re stuck in a childlike loop of these beds. That is, until Simon passes out on bottom bunk accidentally and doesn’t want to move for Baz.

    Words: 2960, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English



    read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2u4DATi
  2. 10
  1. The observatory

    sugar4ndroses:

    A fanfic about stargazing for the Carry On Countdown


    Simon

    I’m not sure why I thought that Baz would stop sneaking around after we formed our truce. I guess I figured if we weren’t fighting, if we were even trying to trust each other a little, maybe he wouldn’t keep secrets.  

    Clearly, his definition of “truce” is a little different than mine.

    I follow him out of the room after dark, far enough behind that he won’t hear me.  He doesn’t go to the catacombs.  Instead he makes for the second-most frequent place I’ve caught him skulking around: the Mage’s office.

    Usually I wait until I catch him doing something almost certainly incriminating before I confront him, but tonight I’m annoyed.

    “Stop,” I call after him as he reaches for the door to the Mage’s office.

    Baz heaves a sigh and turns around.  “Go back to bed, Snow.”

    “Get out of here and I will.”

    “You know,” he drawls, “considering we have a truce, I’d have thought you would try trusting me a little bit.”

    I roll my eyes at him.  “Love to, but clearly I can’t, can I?”

    “Snow, how am I supposed to get information on my mother if I can’t even visit her office?”

    “It isn’t her office,” I growl, even though it feels like a mean thing to say, “it’s the Mage’s.”

    Baz opens his mouth to reply (something scathing I’m sure) but he stops, and his brow furrows.

    “What?” I ask, not looking away from him, “what is it?”

    “Was that door there a minute ago?”

    I only now realize that he’s not frowning at me, but at the wall to my right.  I look, and there’s a door, wooden and cracked.  It looks like it’s been there forever.

    Which probably means it’s trying too hard.

    I’ve been up to the Mage’s office probably hundreds of times. I would have seen this door before, chances are I would have explored it.

    “No,” I reply, “this door’s new.”

    Baz has his wand ready, and he seems to be preparing an unlocking spell, but I twist the handle and it swings open without so much as a creak on its hinges.  Behind it are stairs, twisting upwards, and a musty smell in the air.  We look at each other, and then I lead the way.

    “Could you possible walk any slower?” he asks after a minute of climbing.

    “Shush,” I hiss over my shoulder.  There’s moonlight coming in through the odd window, we haven’t had a night this clear in weeks.

    At the top of the stairs is a ceiling, and nothing else.

    “A door that leads to nowhere,” Baz mumbles behind me, and I’m not sure if it’s a question or a statement, or just a musing.

    “Maybe not nowhere,” I murmur, and I press my hands against the ceiling.  I feel it budge but I can’t make it lift.

    “Trapdoor?”

    “Seems like it.”

    “Let me.”

    “I’ve got it.”

    Snow.

    I don’t let him, not entirely, but I do let him help.  We shove the trapdoor open and climb up into a bright, round room.

    It takes me a second to figure out why it’s so bright. The walls, the ceilings, everything is made of glass.  The moon is illuminating the whole room, the silver embroidery in the rug we’ve crawled out onto is practically glowing with light.

    “An observatory,” Baz breathes.

    I stare up through the ceiling.  “How do you figure?”

    “Maybe from the massive telescope you’ve somehow managed to miss.”

    The telescope, once I notice it, is indeed massive.  It looks old but well-polished, like it’s been taken care of for however long it’s been here.

    “How in the world have we had an observatory at Watford and never known about it?” I wonder, approaching the telescope.

    “That door isn’t always there,” Baz suggests, “maybe the observatory only appears on clear nights.”

    It would make sense, I suppose.  I lay a hand on the cool metal of the telescope, and it seems to hum, like it’s waking up.  “How do you move this thing?”

    As if it heard me, the telescope swivels a little on its base, its gears clicking as it turns.

    “Magic, I assume.”  Baz is beside me all of a sudden, I didn’t hear him come over.  I catch a glimpse of the moonlight hitting his face.  He’s ridiculously pale but right now it actually looks like he’s supposed to be, not like he has no blood or whatever it is that makes vampires that ashen.

    “I wonder if it’ll track an object,” I rub my thumb over the surface, “like a Normal telescope.”

    “What do you want to track?”

    “The moon.”

    Immediately the telescope hums to life again, turning slowly until it has aimed itself directly at the moon.  I didn’t mean to command it, I didn’t even say it with magic, but somehow my intent must have been enough.

    “Really Snow, the moon?”  Baz rolls his eyes at me.  “Out of all the objects you could look at in the sky, you choose the one thing close enough for us to see on our own?”

    I ignore him and stoop to peer in the lens.  I’ve never gotten to look through a telescope before, and the moon has always fascinated me (it looks so close that I can never comprehend how it can be so far away, and so big).  Baz can mock me all he wants.

    At first I don’t think I can see anything.  There’s just dark, and sometimes if I angle my head right, there’s something bright, but nothing defined.

    And then my jaw drops open, because the big bright thing that I’m looking at is the moon, up close and personal, and it’s almost unrecognizable.  “Crowley,” I whisper.

    “What?”

    “It’s amazing.”

    “It’s the moon, Snow.”

    I could stare at it for hours, drinking in the craters and the shadows, but I back up because I need him to understand.  “You look at it.”

    He does.  He’s quiet, and he doesn’t mutter anything like I did but I still see the moment that it hits him because his mouth softens and I feel my stomach drop like I’m on a roller coaster.

    I should be trying to figure out why that is, but I’m too busy staring.  Not at the moon, at him.

    Look away, don’t be staring at him when he looks up.

    He looks up, and I’m still staring at him.

    “What, Snow?”

    I blink a few times.  “Nothing.  Pretty cool, right?”

    “Admittedly cooler than I expected.”

    “You pick something to look at.”

    Baz tilts his head at me.  “Are we taking turns now?”

    “Sure, whatever.”

    “How uncharacteristically civil of you.”

    I try not to groan aloud.  “Baz, have you ever gotten to look through a telescope this big before?”

    “No.”

    “So take the opportunity,” I tell him.  “It’s not like we get clear nights like this very often. What do you want to see?”

    He thinks for a second, then lays his hand on the metal. “Saturn.”

    The telescope swivels almost ninety degrees on its base, and it’s aimed closer to the horizon now.  I put my ear to its side and I can hear the gears creak as they track the planet.

    Baz bends to look through the lens again, and his face doesn’t change this time, but it’s already softer than it was when we got up here. I find myself studying the transition from his jawline to his neck.

    “What’s it look like?” I ask, hoping I sound lighter than I feel.

    “Small.”

    “That’s all?”

    “It’s far away, Snow.”

    His voice is quieter than it usually is when he talks to me, I guess because he’s not really focused on me, but it almost sounds… gentle.

    “Can you see the rings?”

    “Yep.”

    “What are they like?”

    “Exactly how they look in pictures.”  He stands up and steps aside for me.

    When I look, I’m expecting something big and bright like the moon, but Baz is right.  Saturn is small and soft, and the same tan-orange that it is in photos.  The rings are even harder to see, but they’re definitely there, and then the realization hits me: I’m staring at Saturn. It’s there, its rings are there, and I’m all the way over here, on Earth.

    “Huh,” I murmur, “it’s actually there.”

    “What did you think, Snow?” Baz chuckles behind me.  “That Saturn was a conspiracy?”

    “Of course not,” I scoff, “but I guess I’ve never really had proof that Saturn exists beyond pictures.  Now I do.”

    “You and I need to have a chat about object permanence.”

    My hand slides across the surface of the telescope and bumps into his.  I stand and whip my hand away, and a “sorry” is on the tip of my tongue, but it stops there.

    Because Baz is standing a lot closer than I was expecting, and I can’t even see his face without looking up.

    His eyes are as silver as the embroidery in the starlight.

    His mouth still looks soft.

    I’m staring at his mouth.

    “Snow,” he mumbles, and I think he’s going to tell me to back off, but he doesn’t seem to be able to finish his sentence.  Which never happens.

    I’m still staring at his mouth.  I should stop.

    I don’t want to.

    My stomach has dropped again and it’s cold and scary but I think I like it a lot.

    “Sorry,” I finally manage, but I haven’t moved away.

    Come to think of it, neither has he.

    I want to kiss him.

    That thought scares me as much as the cold stomach.

    “We should go,” Baz whispers, like he hopes it’ll break the spell.  It probably should.

    I want to kiss him, then go.

    “Probably,” I breathe.  That’s all I can do.  Breathe.

    Kiss him.  Then go.

    I finally manage to look away from his lips, but then I look at his eyes instead and that’s an even bigger mistake.

    Because he’s looking at my lips, too.

    So I rise onto my toes and my mouth fits against his.

    I half expect him to jump back or slap me or something to that effect because that’s how all our interactions seem to end but he stays until I break the kiss.  I don’t breathe.  I open my eyes tentatively.  His are closed and his brow is slightly drawn, like he’s still figuring out how to respond.

    “I…”  I don’t get any further, but my stomach is even colder now and not a good cold, more like ice and I can tell I’m going to start shaking.

    His eyes open and they’re gray because they’re only half-open, not enough to catch the starlight, but I’m still captivated by them.  “What?” he whispers.

    He smells like his shampoo (cedar, and something citrusy) and it’s like his neck, his chin, his mouth, they’re drawing me in again.

    “I shouldn’t have.”

    Baz lets out a slow breath.  “Maybe not.”

    At this point we should definitely both be backing off, but neither of us do.

    I kissed him.  Now I should go.

    It wasn’t enough.

    “Baz…”

    This time he pulls me to him.

  2. 651
  1. Mistletoes

    ao3feed-snowbaz:

  2. 11
  1. I Wish It Was Me

    ao3feed-snowbaz:

    read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2CkEUII

    by

    At Watford, Simon finds out that Baz has a boyfriend. It takes some time for him to realize why it bothers him so much… and then he does.

    Words: 1889, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English



    read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2CkEUII
  2. 16
  1. Recapture the Magic

    pitchonthepitch:

    rainbowbaz:

    Summary:  “If you don’t meet your spouse at Watford, Penny says, you could end up alone – or going on singles tours of Magickal Britain.“

    Ten years after Watford, Simon is lonely and magic-less, and ends up doing exactly what he vowed he would never do - going on a singles tour of Magickal Britain. The only problem is that out of all the mages in England, he’s been matched with Baz Pitch, who seems just as moody, rude and annoyingly attractive as he used to be.

    8.4k words. Old enemies to lovers, Post-Watford, Matchmaking, Getting together, Fluff and Angst <3


    Thank you so much to the amazing @velvetnoodle for beta-ing and helping me to feel confident in my writing again! <3 So much love!!!

    Read it on AO3!

    Everyone please stop what you’re doing and read this! (Some quality fic right here, friends 👌)

  2. 145
  1. (kisses are) a far better fate than wisdom

    bazmontout:

    ao3feed-snowbaz:

    read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nqaFpw

    by

    “The worst part is, it’s not even Christmas. Wait, who am I kidding, that’s not the worst part. Not by a mile.”

    Baz and Simon get caught under some enchanted mistletoe. Things escalate from there.

    (Or, how Baz and Simon ruined the author’s plans for a perfectly straightforward enchanted mistletoe trope fic by refusing to just talk about their feelings.)

    Words: 3942, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English



    read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2nqaFpw

    A-

  2. 13
  1. Cafe Conversation (4 Weeks of Fluff Day 8)

    bazmontout:

    carry-on-kissing-snowbaz:

    In this AU, Simon and Baz didn’t get together when they investigated Baz’s mother’s murder. Hope you enjoy! @4wksoffluff

    Word Count: 1468


    Simon

    Penny was quite obviously annoyed with Simon. They were sitting at a table at a café and Simon was ignoring her completely. A few minutes ago he had spotted a man across the street with longish black hair and an incredibly familiar frame. Simon was almost certain it was Baz but it was too far away to be completely sure. 

    “Simon who are you staring at?” Penny asked, cheeks red with frustration.

    “Um, I don’t know…does he look familiar?” Simon asked.

    Penny glanced in the direction he was looking.

    “Does who look familiar? There’s like a million people sitting over there.”

    Simon bit his lip. Now he wasn’t so sure it was Baz. He’d hoped Penny would immediately recognize him and reassure Simon that he was right. But if he was wrong he didn’t want to be accused of being obsessed with Baz, even if he actually was. 

    “Oh I just thought I recognized the guy with the black hair,” Simon mumbled.

    This time Penny turned and gave her full concentration. 

    “Oh, you mean Basilton. Yeah I think that’s him,” Penny said.

    “Oh,” Simon said, keeping his eyes averted.

    Since they’d graduated Watford three years ago Simon hadn’t seen his former roommate ever again. It had been strange at first, no longer sharing a room with someone who’d always been there since he was eleven. Eventually he had gotten used to it, but it didn’t mean he’d stopped thinking about Baz. Over time he’d begun to question whether or not he’d ever really hated him or if it had been something else entirely.

    Penny was studying him, a smirk on her face.

    “Let’s invite him to eat with us,” Penny said.

    Simon’s eyes widened, panicked.

    “No! He looks like he’s already seated. Besides, he probably doesn’t even remember us,” Simon said.

    Penny snorted.

    “Baz was just as fixated on you as you were on him at Watford.”

    “Shut up,” Simon hissed.

    Penny stood up and grabbed her cloth napkin, waving it in the air like a signal.

    Hey Basilton! Yeah, you! Come over here and converse with your fellow alumni!” 

    Simon knew his face was beet red, knew it but had no idea how to stop it. He couldn’t look up, couldn’t even speak, as Penny settled back into her seat and watched him triumphantly.

    “You’re welcome,” She said.

    “Excuse me?” Simon choked out.

    Just then, Baz arrived at their table his expression amused but distant. He was wearing dark wash jeans and an expensive looking dark green sweater. His gray eyes seemed to spark against the hazy gloom of the morning. Simon felt his heart thump faster as Baz took a seat next to him.

    “Ah, the Watford heroes. How’s life as a retired chosen one and side-kick?” Baz asked.

    Penny huffed angrily.

    “Side-kick? I’m the one who figured out how to get Simon’s magic back, I think I’ll settle for the brainy tech hero who helps the idiot brave hero in her spare time, thank you very much,” She said. 

    Baz glanced at Simon and away.

    “So he’s not a Normal after all?” Baz asked.

    “I’m right here,” Simon mumbled.

    “No he’s not and he’s a lot better at magic these days, now that he has a normal amount,” Penny said.

    Baz, without looking at Simon, turned slightly in his direction.

    “So how did you miraculously bounce back?” He asked.

    “Agatha’s dad noticed that I still had some magical energy. It was really low and nothing I could really access but he assured me it meant I wasn’t a Normal. Then Penny spent some time with various energy spells and tried to channel it to my magic. Overtime I healed, not a big deal,” Simon said.

    “Would have been easier with you Baz, what with your connection to Simon’s magic,” Penny said.

    “A deal is a deal. He helped me find my mother’s killer and I, well I didn’t kill him. Nothing else was required of me,” Baz said. 

    “I’m so glad we got to catch up,” Simon muttered. 

    “Damn, they only have the fake sugar packets. I’m going to go ask for some real sugar, I’ll be right back,” Penny said.

    When she left, the table went silent. Simon played awkwardly with the edge of his menu and glanced up at Baz. He made a noise when he realized Baz was already staring back at him. There was something in his eyes, something that told Simon not to say something stupid in that moment. Instead, he stared back without saying a word.

    “Would it have really helped? Me having done the spells?” Baz asked.

    “Probably,” Simon said.

    “Do you think…do you think we’re still connected? I mean, to your magic,” Baz said.

    “I don’t know. I’m not sure if that was because of all the magic I had or if it was, I don’t know, an us thing,” Simon said.

    “An us thing,” Baz repeated.

    Simon swallowed nervously. His palms felt slick against his jeans and he didn’t know what to say. 

    “Do you want to try it?” Baz asked.

    “Try what?”

    “Try to share it again…just to see,” Baz said.

    Simon bit his lip.

    “But we’re in public, won’t it be a little…?”

    “I won’t do any spells,” Baz promised.

    Simon wanted to tell him that it wasn’t scaring the Normals that he was afraid of but rather the intimacy of it. The last time they’d shared magic had been back in their room in Watford, away from the rest of the world. Simon wasn’t sure he wanted anyone, even Penny, to see them like that.

    He reached across the table and grabbed Baz’s hand. He felt his heart jump and glanced up to see that Baz’s mouth had opened slightly, as if the physical contact had surprised him. His skin was just as he remembered it, smooth and a little bit cold. He tried to relax his mind, to push his magic out tentatively towards Baz.

    Baz gasped.

    “Penny…she said your magic was normal…” He whispered.

    Simon looked away.

    “Simon…are you sure this is safe?” Baz asked.

    “I’m not what I used to be, not at all. There are no more holes. But whoever my parents were, they were powerful. I think I’m even stronger than Ebb.”

    “So you were always meant to be made of magic,” Baz said, wonder in his voice.

    Simon was about to ask what he meant by that when a waiter came and asked for their orders. Simon tried his best to remember Penny’s order and wondered where the hell she had gone off to find sugar. Baz seemed jittery, not able to shake off Simon’s magic.

    “You’re right, it’s not nearly as strong as it was before. But it’s still intense,” Baz said.

    Simon shrugged.

    “Genetics I guess.”

    Baz frowned.

    “Is something wrong Snow? You’ve barely looked at me since I sat down,” Baz said.

    “I could say the same thing to you,” Simon replied, voice defensive.

    Baz clenched his jaw, looking torn.

    “It’s not…I don’t think you’d understand,” He said. 

    Simon made an effort to keep his gaze on Baz steady.

    “Try me.”

    Baz smiled briefly and then sighed.

    “Simon I…I’ve had feelings for you for a very long time. I thought being away from you would help. That I could meet a nice guy in college and forget all about you but it hasn’t happened. And I don’t think it will,” Baz said.

    Simon felt excitement flutter in his stomach.

    “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I don’t expect you to do anything about it or say anything. But, you asked,” He said.

    “Baz-“

    “Really it’s not like you have to say anything, I get it.”

    “Shut up,” Simon said.

    Baz glanced at him in surprise.

    “What?”

    Simon leaned across the table and kissed Baz, a brief touch of lips, before settling back into his seat.

    Baz blinked for a minute or so.

    “Um…” he said.

    “Yes?” Simon said.

    “So uh, does that mean…”

    “Would you please go on a date with me Baz? Maybe next Friday around seven?” Simon asked.

    Baz nodded, cheeks slightly pink.

    Penny ran over, clapping her hands excitedly.

    “How exciting! You two have a date!”

    “Where the hell have you been?” Simon asked.

    “Getting the sugar, like I said,” Penny replied.

    “So, where’s the sugar?” Baz asked.

    She glanced down and swore.

    “I uh, must have dropped it,” She said.

    Baz laughed, his grey eyes crinkling around the corners. Simon couldn’t help but laugh too, especially given how red Penny’s face was. It was cold out, and they all had jobs they’d have to leave for soon, but Simon felt happier than he had in a long time. It seemed that the piece that had been missing from Simon’s life since he’d left Watford had finally come back to him.

    A-

  2. 359
  1. Sick Of Losing Soulmates - snowbaz

    bazmontout:

    rosebudbasilton:

    alright-y-o so this is my first snowbaz fic and I got really carried away with it so let’s just post it before i fuck it up beyond repair okAY

    Genre: fluff?? angst?? baz

    Warnings: mentions of vomiting (not too graphic), lots of talk about death and murder (whoops), graphic making out ;))))))))

    Summary: (AU) Sixth year at Watford, and Simon Snow turns up sick. Baz ‘doesn’t care’. 

    Word Count: 6,139 (JEEZ)

    Seguir leyendo

    B+++

  2. 733
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