that's it. y'all. i'm publishing this fic. let's go.
simon snow got into a pretty minor car accident. nothing much; just a fractured arm and some things like that. then he gets treated and heals and moves on with his life, and all, and —
except he hasn't changed the emergency contact on his phone in 5 years. because he forgot. and so baz shows up — baz, his ex-boyfriend, and it's baz, sitting next to his hospital bed, being so fucking sweet — what can he do when his heart is still in a chokehold?
they dance around each other, pining and yearning and aching, until they crash.
[teen, 19.1k, complete, non magical au, post-breakup getting back together, angst with happy ending]
go read it! :D
thanks for the six sentence sundays that got me through this, y'all.
Thanks @hushed-chorus, @palimpsessed, @martsonmars, @johnwgrey, @bucketfishy, & @confused-bi-queer for the tags 😘😘😘
I wrote a lot of very different stuff this week, mostly due to an ask game which sent my inspiration soaring. And then I posted these two very different stories:
Rat Bastard [T, 1.2k, Rat!Baz, nipple biting]
I bite the pad of skin just below my mouth. Like I’m going to let Simon peep at my rat-cock. (Or my big rat-balls.)
in death as in life [T, 1.3k, Ghost!Baz, MCD, HIV/AIDS]
“I’m not keen on the labels. Never have been. Gun to my head, if I’d have had to put my finger on it, I’d have just called me yours.”
I also added words to a bunch of other WIPs so let’s do some short one-liners, shall we?
Two weeks later, my bedroom door slams open. “Wake up, Chosen Fuck.” Blue Lace aka Bad Wolf
In my cupped palms, I bring the errant ice to Niamh. “I’m afraid he’s well past revival.” Mystery Project
Thank you for the tagging @palimpsessed @martsonmars @johnwgrey @aroace-genderfluid-sheep good morning!!!
This week, I managed to sepparate a chapter into two of my ballet AU because I was editing some stuff (I’ve had 7 chapters written since August) and chapter 5, the next one, was already big, so I had to split it because now chapter 6 reveals why the hell I decided to write the damn fic and what inspired it, so it needs more explanation, therefore more words too.
So, I continued with the scene I showed you on Wednesday about SnowBaz being forced to work together because I love that trope.
“Put your hands here,” he commands.
He pats his hips and I do as I’m told. He moves my hands to where he wants them; he smiles a bit.
“Tickles.” He pulls his face into a serious expression. “Straighten your elbows.” I do. “I’m going to take you by the back.” He rounds my body, and holds me. “See? You’ll put your hands like that after feeling me up.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not feeling you up, Snow.”
“You touch my face and slide your hand down until you’re holding my waist.”
“You want me to—” I swallow as I look at his naked, flushed, perfect chest, “to touch you. Like that. You want me to feel you up.”
He smiles so widely it almost blinds me. “For the performance!” he says, unaware of the effect he has on me.
thank you for the tags @hushed-chorus and @martsonmars !
i don't have anything new to share this week — but i did publish my fic, if anyone missed it, and i'm so happy with it! so today i bring you another snippet from it: both to tempt those who haven't read it yet, and to bring myself motivation to start on a new one. i have ideas 👀 maybe i'll even finish something in time for halloween. anyways, simon pov:
he keeps his eyes on the road, and i keep my eyes on him, watching the way he sways lightly to the music. if i'm leaving anyway — is it worth it to tell him? that he has a chokehold on my heart? that i have forgotten how to breathe since i first saw him, and i still do not know how?
not quite six sentences, but long enough that it might as well be.
read the fic! [teen, 19.1k, complete, non magical au, post-breakup getting back together, angst with happy ending]
good luck on everything you all are doing :) @erzbethluna @katmiscellanious @facewithoutheart @ivelovedhimthroughworse @raenestee @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @ileadacharmedlife @yeonjunenby. no pressure!
I wrote more this past week than in the previous month and a half, and it feels fucking incredible! On Friday I also beat my personal best of words in a day, which used to be around 3.5/4k and is now more than 7.5k! I'm on a roll, and I'm trying to focus on the 22k I've written in six days instead of focusing on the fact that I'm neglecting my COTTA and I haven't started prompt fest fic yet. Whatever! Can't force inspiration, and I have a plan to get back on track with my most urgent WIPs as soon as I get this one out of the way.
So, have three snippets from the mystery project I shared on Wednesday! All from Penny's POV. Total: a thousand sentences.
“What are you doing?”
I find Simon [redacted; sad].
I don’t get homesick anymore—it’s been too long, too painful—but I can still recognise that look when I see it. The soul-deep ache for a place you used to call your own but you’re not sure you’ll ever see again. (I didn’t.) Simon could leave and find his way back home anytime, but there’s too much in the tension of his shoulders, in the cloudiness of his eyes when I mention it. He’s in too deep. I guess we both are.
“Thinking,” he mumbles, and it strikes me that I already know him well enough to understand that getting an answer means he wants me here. “What if—What if I’m not enough?”
A funnier one.
Simon is looking at me as if I've just killed his mother and I'm wiping her blood off my fingers. My fingers are currently red-stained, but it has nothing to do with mothers or homicide. It's berries.
“Was it—Was it… the last pancake?”
He flops down on a stool next to mine, the slump of his shoulders showing the level of defeat one would expect at the end of a battle and not in front of an empty plate. Or at least that's what anyone would expect if they didn't know Simon.
I lick my fingers, feeling only marginally guilty about it, and then I smirk at him. “It was.”
“Why did you eat it? I trusted you.”
Bonus Gareth content and tags under the cut:
“Shut up. And leave Simon alone.”
“Simon…” He clicks his tongue. “Yeah, works well with that arse.”
“Could you please…” I wave a hand at him. I don't even want to waste words.
“Leave you alone? And miss whatever's going on with Mr I'm-Basically-Starved-But-Not-Even-Malnutrition-Can-Stop-This-Ass? I would never—” I'm spared the end of that sentence thanks to the shrill sound of his belt buckle lighting up. “Fuck.”
Happy Sunday, y’all! Thank you for the tags @artsyunderstudy @martsonmars @ileadacharmedlife @cutestkilla. Honestly means the world to me!
Still working on my little creation, Stress Management. Here’s a moment of pure sexy panic from sweet Baz when Simon invites him over to his flat.
I’m freaking the fuck out. If I go home with Snow, even if it’s just to make a fucking pot of risotto, what then? What if my body starts reacting like I’m going home with Snow? I have loved this boy for as long as I’ve known how to love. What’s to say my body wouldn’t react impulsively and start doing annoying body-like things? Would I be able to hide that?
But I go. Oh, God, I go. And I go willingly.
I’ve put up the flimsiest of fights. It’s too far. (It’s not.) I don’t have a change of clothes. (I do.) You’re probably just as messy as when we were in school. (Who fucking cares.)
Here’s another small moment of Simon losing his ever-loving mind when faced with Baz in athletic wear:
He’s wearing a goddamned sleeveless mesh shirt. Fucking mesh. (The mesh is mostly opaque, but I can still see a hint of his skin. Muscles. Chest hair. Bone. Jesus Christ.) On bottom, he’s wearing yoga trousers with a waistband that comes to a V in the front. A fucking V. Both pieces are black. Both pieces make me want to bash my head against a wall.
hey, we're back! am i going to be the first post? *laughs in utc+8*. anyways, hello, school has started again, and i am still trying to work on golden hour, but it's a little bit hard. either way, we've hit about 17.5k words yesterday, and the first draft would be done by the next sunday, likely 20-22k words. can't wait!
a recap on what golden hour is about: simon snow was in a car crash. his emergency contact happens to be a certain tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch, his ex-boyfriend of 5 years ago, because he forgot to change it. and he comes, and so we have it: an angsty get-together-again fic.
we begin with a little bit of lighthearted banter :)
"biggest clown i've ever seen," he had muttered under his breath, the first time i rolled up my pizza to prevent the toppings spilling off, for maximum pizza-eating efficiency.
"i'm the biggest genius ever." i shoved my creation into my mouth. "you just won't admit it."
"that would only be the case if you were the sole person alive."
and i can't keep all of this to myself. i'm dying to share this with the world, so have more!
a little bit of angst:
i don't catch him at night again after that, because i sleep so soundly, and perhaps he does it often; but i don't let myself hear. i don't let myself see. i fear that i cannot bring myself to leave, after.
and then, finally, sappy fluffy thoughts, or whatever they are:
suddenly i no longer mind losing. not when it puts such a lovely grin on his face. i would do anything to keep his smile there. i would be a loser, willingly, if i were losing to him.
and here are some tags; thank you everyone for being so kind and welcoming to me. this is a great place. can't wait to see what everyone is up to, but no pressure at all! @erzbethluna @katmiscellanious @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @ivelovedhimthroughworse @raenestee @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @ileadacharmedlife @yeonjunenby. and thanks for the tags from last week!
this is gonna be my first completed fic in two years (assuming i manage to complete it). so that is extremely exciting. look forward to it :)
alright everyone. i fulfilled my promise here's baz's one!! fire, heart (because of his love for simon), and violin :) honestly the fire is probably my favorite part of this. (the right pic looks weird because of the shadow. hm.)
i kept track of the time i spent on this (almost exactly 3 hours) and tbh So Worth ❤️ obsessed with these boys!
Summary: Ten years after Simon and Baz get drunk-married in Vegas during the events of Wayward Son, Baz learns a shocking truth: Simon remembers everything from that night. And now, he’s got to spill that secret to save their marriage.
“I don’t want to be like this.” I’m staring at the puddle of water I failed to mop up. “I don’t.”
Baz stands. Like a man approaching a wild animal, he walks to my side. Slowly, he curls onto the floor beside me.
We lay there, him and I. His body position mirrors mine. His hand rests between us, reaching.
He’s always reaching toward me and I’m always failing to meet him halfway.
“What do you want to be like, then?” he asks. “What do you want to be?”
[Teen, 3.8k, WS-era, Accidental Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending]
it's so lovely in the carry on discord for real it's like you can ask 'help is this canon or fanon. i do not remember' of ANY specific detail and someone will come to your aid with 'actually it was mentioned briefly in page xxx of awtwb so it's canon' it's sooo i'm always so impressed wow!
Omg! Do I get to start this today? What a rare pleasure 🤩.
Finally got my prompt-fest fic almost done. I’ve been floundering in this google doc for awhile. Then yesterday I got a hankering to write friends to lovers and thought, “Oh! That accidentally-married-in-Vegas fic is like friends to lovers, even though they’re already dating at the time!” It’s WS-era. You know how it goes.
Not explaining the plot further but I will leave you with this tag “the inherent challenges of yes anding your way to marriage before you have a proper conversation about childhood trauma” and the following snippet:
“I don’t want to be like this.” I’m staring at the puddle of water I failed to mop up. “I don’t.”
Baz stands. Like a man approaching a wild animal, he walks to my side. Slowly, he curls onto the floor beside me.
We lay there, him and I. His body position mirrors mine. His hand rests between us, reaching.
He’s always reaching toward me and I’m always failing to meet him halfway.
“What do you want to be like, then?” he asks. “What do you want to be?”
Yours, I think, instantly and wholly. I want to be yours, forever, and ever. But I’m nineteen. I’m on the bathroom floor of a hotel room we’ve paid for with magic. Stolen, essentially. I haven’t found the NowNext. I haven’t saved Agatha; I haven’t saved anyone.
Not even myself.
Who am I to ask forever of Baz? Who am I to permanently burden him with the never ending failure of every decision I’ve ever made?
So I ask him for what any nineteen-year-old man, lost in America, shacked up in Vegas with no bright future, would want.
“I want to be drunk.”
And because I can’t help myself with new WIPs, here’s a short clip from a piece I thought up awhile ago and finished last night because of a random burst of energy:
I’m five seconds from rolling up my sleeves and taking on the monster myself when Simon shouts, “Moon Prism Power!”
Non-pressure tags and hugs (with consent if you want them) to: @sillyunicorn @martsonmars @urban-sith @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @fatalfangirl @whatevertheweather @stardustasincocaine @captain-aralias @forabeatofadrum @aristocratic-otter @moodandmist @johnwgrey @takitalks @jbrrring @excalisbury @confused-bi-queer @palimpsessed @tea-brigade @cutestkilla @creepyspice @ivelovedhimthroughworse @bookish-bogwitch @bazzybelle @dragoneggo @letraspal @artsyunderstudy @orange-peony @nightimedreamersworld @messofthejess @ionlydrinkhotwater @basiltonbutliketheherb @ileadacharmedlife @stitchyqueer @castawaypitch @whogaveyoupermission my two speedo-serving loves @erzbethluna & @ic3-que3n thank you for your service 😘 & new peeps @hushed-chorus @bucketfishy @katmiscellanious hi hello!
can you imagine being a teacher at watford at that leavers ball when simon and baz went public. like there’s no way i would have thought after simon incessantly stalking baz and them constantly trying to curse each other in public “oh they worked out their differences and finally got together.” i would have thought “holy fuck they just pulled the longest con of all time so that they could be boyfriend roommates for eight years”
thank you @bookish-bogwitch and @ionlydrinkhotwater for the tags! and for everyone who’s been tagging me these last few weeks—seeing your posts in my inbox massively helped me pick up my laptop again!
i’m writing again! (woo!) i moved house last month and just wasn’t able to bring myself to write again up until this week, but i missed it massively and so with prompt fest coming up, here’s six sentences i managed to write this week :)
(Penelope Bunce and her bumbling apprentice didn't need to know about the many nightmare-plagued nights where Simon's arms were the only thing in the world I had left to cling onto. Or how his eyes glazed over with panic the first time he told me about his parents' abandonment. Or the time a storm blew over so angry, so determined to cause destruction, that I thought it would destroy my tower and crush me under it. But for the first time, I hadn't wanted it to. Because Simon Snow made me want to live. Or at least, not want to die.)
i’m so excited to post this! it’s (predictably, from me), become much longer than i anticipated, but i’m really really happy with it so far :))
