Hello

[wren-likethe-bird]

In good hands

A fic about Simon learning the truth for the Carry On Countdown

Lucy

The Veil has closed.

           But there’s so much unsaid.

           And I’ve found a crack.

Simon

At first I think the voice is just in my dream, but then I start to wake up and it’s still there.

           “Simon.”

           I spell the lights on to see Baz sitting up in bed, staring at me with wide eyes.

           “What, Baz?” I groan, “I’m trying to sleep.”

           “That wasn’t me.”

           “Simon.”

           Neither Baz nor I say a word, but the lights flicker off again on their own.  The voice seems to be coming from everywhere.  It’s soft, almost a whisper, and now that I can hear it better it sounds feminine.

           “What’s going on?” Baz asks.

           The woman appears between our beds.

           Baz jumps back with a shout and normally I would have my sword ready by now but this time I know not to.

           “Simon,” she says to me, like she’s pleading.

           She’s short, and there’s a pale glow coming off of her but I think her hair is blonde.  Her eyes are big and blue.  

           “I thought the Veil had closed,” I say warily.

           “I had to reach you.”

           “Who are you?”

           She stretches a hand out to me, and maybe I was drawing nearer without realizing it, but I can almost feel it when she palms my cheek.  “It’s me.”

           “I don’t know you.”

           “I haven’t much time.”

           “Then tell me.”

           She looks like she might start crying.  “You are not the Chosen One.”

           For a second, the globe stops turning.

           “Davy chose you,” she says, her voice tearful. “He chose me.  He said we were stars.”

           “Wait,” I try to stop her, “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

           “He said we could change everything.”

           “Who are you?”

           She takes my hand in hers and I can just barely feel it.  “I wish I’d been here, Simon.”  She smiles through tears.  “My rosebud boy.”

           Baz’s intake of breath is quiet, but she spins around to face him.

           “It was you,” he says to her, “not my mother.”

           “No,” I tell him, “it was your mother.”

           “Don’t let him,” the woman says, but she’s talking to Baz now.  “Don’t let him hurt my boy.”

           His brow furrows.  “I know you.”

           She grabs his hand in both of hers, and he flinches back a little but holds her gaze.  “You can’t let him,” she begs.

           “I won’t.”

           “Who are you?” I ask one more time, my voice getting louder because she’s becoming translucent and I need to know.

           She returns to me and kneels beside my bed.  “My boy,” she whispers, pressing her forehead against mine, “my rosebud boy.”

           Something about her eyes, about her voice, strikes a chord in me, and I think I know her.

           “Mom?”

           She covers my eyes with her hand, and for a second I can smell her, and she smells like home.

           She’s gone when I open my eyes.

Baz

I’ve been back for hardly a week and everything is already sideways.

           Snow and Wellbelove have broken up. Wellbelove has made several passes at me.  I can barely sleep without being back in that coffin.  The Veil has opened and I’ve missed a Visiting from my mother.  Snow and I have formed a truce.

           And now the dead are finding ways through the Veil to talk to him, apparently.

           Snow looks… well, he looks like he’s seen a ghost, and I’m shaken enough that I probably do, too.

           I can’t get her face out of my mind.  I knew it as soon as I saw it, but I couldn’t figure out how at first.  Then she spoke to me, and I knew her eyes, her mouth, the way her brow drew in.

           Because they were him, and I know him like I know to breathe.

           Snow hasn’t moved since she disappeared, and I’m starting to wonder if he even can.

           “Snow?”

           There’s a sob, and he clamps a hand over his mouth like it wasn’t supposed to come out.

           I want to tell him it’s okay, that I won’t make fun of him this time, to just cry until he’s better, but I don’t know how to make any of these things not sound stupid.  It’s clearly not okay.

           And anyway, he seems to have given up on not crying, because he’s hidden his face in his pillow and I can see his shoulders shaking, even in the dark.

           We’re silent, apart from the occasional sob from his bed.

           Then,

           “How did you know her?”

           He’s looking at me, and his eyes are wide.

           “There’s a photo in the Mage’s office,” I tell him, “of him, but younger, with some other students.  She was one of them.”  I don’t mention how chummy they look in the photo, or that I was only able to recognize her from how much she looked like Simon.

           “It was her, that night,” he says, “talking through the Veil.  She called me her rosebud boy.”

           “Simon.”

           “Don’t.”

           “Don’t what?”

           “Don’t call me that.”

           I frown.  “I thought it was ‘Snow’ you hated.”

           “You only call me ‘Simon’ when you’re afraid I’m going to break or something, like I’m a spooked animal.”

           It’s a perfect opportunity to say something horrible (he’s already crying, I wouldn’t even have to try) but I can’t bring myself to hurt him right now.

           “What should I do then?”

           He’s quiet, like he’s thinking.  “Come here.”

           “Snow.”

           “You don’t have to try and comfort me or anything, just come over here.”

           I hesitate, but it’s like he’s drawing me in. He’s always drawing me in.

           I push the covers back, cross the room, and sit cross-legged on his bed, facing him.

           For a moment, neither of say anything.  His breathing seems to have steadied for now. He doesn’t look at me, which is good, because that way he can’t see how I’m looking at him.

           Then he scoots closer and places his forehead on my chest with a solid bump.

           I huff out a chuckle because he’s ridiculous (and extremely cute).

           “S’not funny.”

           “I know,” I say, sobering, “I’m not laughing.”

           “I need a living thing right now.”

           You’ve come to the wrong guy, I think to myself but I know what he means.  Someone who’s there, now, and isn’t going to vaporize at any moment.  I’m momentarily glad that I still have a heartbeat, because right now he’d notice if I didn’t.

           “Baz?”

           “Hm?”

           “I think it was my mother.”

           “I think you’re right.”

           “How do you know?”

           “She looked like you.”

           His shoulders start to shake again and his hands fly up to cover his face and that’s when I decide fuck it.

           I wrap an arm around his shoulders and he responds immediately like he’d been waiting for permission, clinging to my waist and sobbing into my shoulder.  My other hand comes up to smooth his hair and he’s practically in my lap now but I pull him closer anyways, and his grip on me is like a vice, tightening because he knows I’ll allow it.

           “Shh,” I tell him, “breathe.”

           He tries, but it’s like he can’t get a full breath.

           “Hey.”  I push him back but only far enough for him to meet my gaze.  “We’re gonna figure it out, okay?”  His curls fall into his face and I brush them back with my fingers.  “You help me find my mother’s killer, I’ll help you figure out what your mother meant.”

           “What if she’s right, Baz?”  His eyes are wide and wet.  “What if I’m not the Chosen One?”

           “Then your life just got a whole lot easier.”

           He chokes out a laugh, but it just turns into a sob and I pull him back to my chest.  His hair is tickling my neck and it’s all I can do not to press kisses to the top of his head but even though this is so different than anything we’ve ever done, I know we’re not there, so I rest my chin on his head and try to convince myself that it’s enough.

           I plan to get up as soon as he calms down enough to let me go, but even when his breathing slows his grip doesn’t loosen, and I think maybe he’s fallen asleep like that.  “Simon?”

           “I know,” he says into my shirt, “but don’t go.”

           Wonder of wonders.

           “Alright,” I murmur, “I won’t.”

           He’s starting to sag in my arms, like the weight of everything has finally turned into exhaustion.  I tip us carefully sideways so we’re lying down on his bed, and he seems to relax a little but he doesn’t let go, and I don’t think he plans to.  I reach down with one arm to pull the covers over us, and we’re wrapped around each other like I only ever thought we would be in my wildest dreams.  One of his legs hooks around one of mine, like he needs to bring every part of me as close as he can.

           I don’t know how we’re going to come back from this, but I know I don’t ever want to.

           At last, his grip loosens and his breathing deepens.  The rhythm of his chest against mine is steady and I can feel myself slipping away.

           Just before I fall asleep, I hear him.

           “Baz?”

           I only have the energy for one word: “Here.”

           Maybe that was all he wanted, because he doesn’t speak again.

           Maybe I’m delirious with everything that’s happening, but I’m feeling particularly brave.

           So I press one kiss to his forehead before slipping away entirely.

Lucy

The Veil has closed.

           I won’t be back.

           But you seem to be in good hands.

[mydarlinginej]

read in 2018: emergency contact by mary h.k. choi

[psytudying]

2hr study session • 2.16.18 #2of100 Attempted to study ~psychology~ mixed with theology, it was super interesting! Made my desk awfully messy, but nonetheless, it was a good morning sesh!

[brodnork]

EXCUSE ME WHAT 

[brodnork]

why am i being threatened

[onesaralorraine]

[bobabee]

[michelangeloo]

.

[yesterdaysprint]

Daily Capital Journal, Salem, Oregon, March 31, 1956

[cwote]

please stay.

[cwote]

it’s okay to breakdown sometimes 

[thequantumqueer]

guys i found the best one

[thequantumqueer]

the gif is animating in the little preview attached to notifications, but it won’t animate in the post itself and im pissed

[sympolite]

honestly, the fact that it’s not animating at all makes this ten times funnier, imo

[studyblr]

concept: waking up early, eating a healthy breakfast, going for a run, drinking enough water, finishing assignments on the first day and not last minute, having clear skin, not being stressed 24/7, 

[little-pink-post-its-deactivate]

You messed up. And that’s okay.

You procrastinated on your homework.

You crammed for that test the night before.

You didn’t finish the book and started the paper the night before it was due.

You forgot a deadline.

You failed that pop quiz.

You overslept your alarm. 

Even though you promised yourself you wouldn’t, you messed up. And that’s okay.

You’re no less of a person because of it.

You’re no less of a studyblr community member because of it.

You’re no less intelligent because of it.

You’re no less of a hard worker because of it.

You’re no less of a student because of it.

YOU’RE. JUST. HUMAN. 

We all have those bad days. Sometimes, we get tired of constantly being on the grind. We forget to take those me days. We stop and yearn for all of that free time. And eventually it catches up to us and we make boo-boos, but that doesn’t negate all the hard work we’ve put in so far or any of the hard work we will put in from here on out. Don’t let this one lapse in judgement, preparation, or thinking define your week, semester, or year. Use it. Work harder because of it. Make sure that the feeling of regret you have now is something you won’t feel for a very long time. 

Guys, it’s not about being perfect. It’s about letting the imperfections guide you instead of define you.

[underneaththewater]

Little things in Carry On that break my heart

And, by extension, make this book so much more magnificent.

Little Basil thought Father Christmas had forgotten about him.

Simon never finds out about The Mage being his dad. Simon never finds out about Lucy being his mum. Simon never finds out that he is the rosebud boy. Simon doesn’t even know about Lucy’s existence. Agatha does know about her, but she has no idea just how important Lucy is.

Nicodemus and Ebb never get to say goodbye. Ebb just dies and her brother never knows. He thinks she stood him up. And who’s going to take care of the goats now?

Simon would’ve been a great wizard even without all the freaky stuff The Mage did. His parents were both very powerful, there’s no reason to think Simon wouldn’t have been.

The Mage, in his own twisted way, thinks he’s doing the right thing.

Baz never got to say goodbye to his mum, or come out to her, or introduce her to his boyfriend. 

Baz spent months in a coffin.

Agatha’s moved to San Diego and found the life she’s always wanted and she’s happy, but remains haunted by the world she’s left behind and that’s just sad.

[sufferingsappho-deactivated2017]

Like, 90% of infomercial style products were designed by/for disabled people, but you wouldn’t know that, because there is no viable market for them. THey have to be marketted and sold to abled people just so that any money can be made of off them and so the people who actually need them will have access.

I think snuggies are the one example almost everyone knows. They were invented for wheelchair users (Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a coat on and off of someone in a wheelchair? Cause it’s PRETTY FUCKIN HARD.) But now everyone just acts like they’re some ~quirky, white people thing~ and not A PRODUCT DESIGNED TO MAKE PEOPLES DAY TO DAY LIVES 10000X EASIER.

But if at any point you were to take your head out of your own ass and go “Hey, who would a product like this benefit,” that would be really cool.

[swamp-spirit]

This makes informational make so much sense now.

Like… of course there’s no reason for that guy to knock over that bowl of chips. However, the person it was actually designed for has constant hand tremors that would make this pretty rad, but since we don’t want to show that in a commercial, here’s an able bodied guy who can’t remember how gravity works.

Shit. Those commercials suddenly get a lot less funny when you realize it’s pretty much just people ineptly trying to mimic disability.

[xtremecaffeine-deactivated20181]

Or like the thing for the eggs? Like, oh, it cracks eggs perfectly, you only need one hand? IT WAS DESIGNED FOR PEOPLE WHO ONLY HAVE THE USE OF ONE HAND. Or the juice bottle pourer? For people who’re TOO LAZY TO POUR THEIR OWN JUICE? Or FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIFFICULTY BEARING WEIGHT IN THE HANDS.

[bettheriver]

It’s amazing how with just a few words by a few people, my whole perspective on something can shift entirely. 

[fumblingcuriosities]

I feel so ignorant for never having realized this before.

[robotsandfrippary]

Most people I know who own infomercial products are elderly, disabled and poor. 

[yobaba]

thank you - best public service announcement I have seen in a really long time

did you know there are bisexual flowers and they’re perfect

[boganjunkrat-deactivated2017011]

it says so right there in my bio textbook i would never lie to you 

[thefaginogion]

perfect (bisexual)

[negrocops]

reblog if you are a perfect bisexual, support perfect bisexuals, or just really love flowers

[jomjjeoro]

hey guys. this is my invention. check it out

[bastionkeeper]

listen no matter how depressed I am whenever this post shows up on my dash I fucking lose it I just laugh so hard, it’s such a good post. The way it’s presented? Soap on a sink nozzle, okay clearly this is some sort of handwashing appliance. Then there’s just water going everywhere no further explanation it’s so good I’m so happy