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Carry On Countdown 2019 - Day 17 - Witches

At Watford, Magic is just the air we breathe. It’s not what separates us from each other; it’s what keeps us together.

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My unread books and my bank account when I buy a new novel:

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COC Day 7: Parental Figures

Word Count: 1289

Summary: Natasha, Ebb, and Lucy are friends behind the veil and they get to catch a glimpse of Baz’s Leavers events. 

Thanks to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for the beta read and she gets full credit for coming up with the last line of this ficlet :) 

Ebb:

It’s not so bad being dead.

Mistress Pitch found me and took me under her wing as soon as I crossed over, around five months ago. She was right furious when she learned that Davy’d been the one that killed me. Pacing back and forth she was, slinging curses. Magic is different here, we still have it, but it doesn’t really go anywhere. Just thunder and lightning, smoke and ice. Honestly, it was a bit nice to see her so riled up, like my death meant something. Like my life wasn’t a waste.

Life (such as it is) here beyond the veil is nice. There are different departments where you can volunteer if you want. Or you can do nothing all. You can sit around and read all day with a cat in your lap if you want. They’re everywhere here, dogs, cats, nanny goats, surprisingly friendly cattle, all kinds of creatures, it’s lovely, really. Natasha works at the department of spells. They get to decide what new phrases become spells and what old ones go away. Too much responsibility for me to bother with, but Nat loves it. Mostly I just wander around, maybe hang out with the goats. Sometimes I like to poke around the department of weather, stirring up thunderstorms for fun. Nothing too dangerous though. I leave the mayhem to others, I’ve had my share. 

Mistress Pitch (or Nat, as she insists I call her) has introduced me to Lucy Salisbury. She’s Simon’s mum. Can you believe that? That poor boy orphaned by his father’s terrible ambition. I suppose he wouldn’t be who he is without Davy’s interfering. But then again, maybe Simon could have been born without all that power. Without all that pain. A regular boy. A normal life. 

I loved Simon Snow like a son; he never quite fit in, like me. I did what I could to help him all those years at Watford. But in the end he was alone on that horrible night, against Davy and the Humdrum. All by himself, Simon versus the world. Saved the day he did, but at what cost?

Lucy is like Simon, a bright beam of sunshine. A gem. She plays rugby here, I like to watch.

My thoughts are interrupted as Natasha and Lucy take my hands. “Come on Ebb!” Nat’s eyes are sparkling. She’s lighter now, almost childlike. She laughs more easily, smiles more freely. Entirely different from the stern headmistress she was when I knew her at Watford. “The ceremony is starting!” Nat is practically giddy. I let myself be pulled back to the White Chapel. I won’t think about the last time I was there.

Everybody knows the Veil lifts every twenty years so the dead can visit the living. What they don’t know is that the Veil thins annually, at the end of Watford’s school year, for the Leaver’s Ceremony and Ball. I suppose so the dead can catch a glimpse of the future.

Lucy and I flank Natasha as we watch her son give his speech, each of us holding her hand. Tears are streaming down her lovely face and she looks positively radiant. I give her hand a squeeze. Nat lets go to wipe her eyes as she turns to me. “He’s using parts of my leaver’s speech. My heart is so full right now, Ebb.”

At a comment from Basilton, Nat laughs, her eyes sparkling. “I do miss those sour cherry scones,” she says with a warm smile.

“Oh those were ace!” Whispers Lucy, eyes wide. “I would eat those with great slabs of butter. They were my absolute favorite.”

“Shhhh,” Nat admonishes with a playful smirk, gently poking Lucy in the ribs. “My baby is speaking.”

“Yes, Mistress Pitch,” smiles Lucy, rolling her eyes and making a zipping motion across her lips.

As the ceremony ends, Natasha points to the crowd and says to Lucy, “That one there, the one snorting like a lunatic, is my little sister, Fiona. Bit of an anarchist, but very much a softy under all that prickly exterior. She’s the strength of the family, the heart and soul.” Nat places her hand on Lucy’s arm. “She would never admit it. She’d say I was the smart one, the success. But I just played it safe. Fiona lives life fiercely, on her own terms. There’s power in that too, she just doesn’t see it. Basil’s life is fuller, richer, better for having her in it and not me.”

“Well that’s a bit depressing,” I snort, giving Nat a light shove.

“Seriously,” Nat retorts. “At that time, I was all about following the rules, keeping up appearances. I may very well have killed my son, knowing he’d been Turned.” She smoothes her long black hair, “it was the right thing to do. Pitches always do what must be done.”

I put my arm around Natasha’s neck, “Love, I’m so sorry. You’re a different person now. I know you’d never do that.”

Nat cocks her eyebrow at me, “Well, hindsight is twenty-twenty when you’re dead isn’t it?”

I bark a laugh, “Crowley, you’re morbid.”

“Ladies, I hate to go, but I have an appointment,” says Nat airily “Shall we meet up for the leavers ball?”

“What are you on about?” Lucy says quizzically. “There aren’t appointments this side of the Veil.”

“I’ve a meeting with my son,” responds Nat as she wanders away. “See you in a bit.”

***

“He’s here!” Lucy exclaims with wonder, her fingers touching her lips.

I rub my hand up in down her back. “He’s a lovely boy, Lucy, you should be so proud. Saved the world of Mages, he did.”

“So handsome, my sweet rosebud boy.” Her hand goes to her heart as tears glisten in her eyes. Lucy’s eyebrows go down, “Why does he have wings? And a tail?”

“I think it had something to do with the saving of the world of Mages,” Natasha appears, sliding an arm around Lucy’s waist. “It certainly gives him a bit of flair, doesn’t it?” Nat looks happy but a little tired.

“I’m not sure anyone else can see them,” Lucy observes.

“Basil does,” says Natasha. “He just wrapped Simon’s tail around his wrist. Are they friends now? I thought they were enemies?”

“Well,” I say, “They’ve certainly had their share of altercations over the years. But I’ve had my suspicions.”

“What do you mean?” Natasha tilts her head at me. Lucy looks curious.

“Those boys are obsessed with each other, far beyond any simple rivalry.” I raise my eyebrows and look between Nat and Lucy, cracking a wicked grin. “Blimey, you could cut the sexual tension between those two with a knife.”

Lucy widens her eyes and covers her ears in mock horror, “I can’t think of my baby and sex in the same sentence, Ebb. Gross.”

“Shut your mouth,” Nat says, trying to fix her grin into a scowl. “My boy is innocent and loves only his mother.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, motioning at Simon and Baz. “Well, your innocent babies are currently snogging their faces off on the dance floor.”

“So, friends then,” Nat said, sliding her arms around my and Lucy’s waists, her lips pulled up in a warm smile.

We stay for a bit, watching the boys dance.

“If they get married, we could be sisters,” says Lucy, planting a kiss on Natasha’s cheek.

“We’re already sisters, us three” Natasha says. “Joined by our love for these wayward boys.” She pulls Lucy and me into a hug and places a kiss to each of our temples.

Lucy raises her head for a last look at the boys, “You know, I’m really surprised they don’t have sandwiches.”

[waywardmages-blog]

“If you’re tired of kissing me I’d better go.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald / The Beautiful and Damned

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COC - Day #12

I heard this song only a few weeks ago and ever since I finished Carry On, it breaks my heart because I can really see a scenario where it may fit. 

It’s a short one this one but I really just went with the lyrics and used them a bit too.

Premise: Baz and Simon are no more but still, they are always on each other’s mind, even till the very end. 

Thinking of you at the same time

Carry On Countdown - Day #12: Song or Music Inspired

Song: Same Time by The Script

Baz

It all ended on New Year’s Eve.

Penny had this ‘wild’, if you can call it wild, idea about throwing a party to ring in the New Year at her and Simon’s place. Since I practically live there most days, I was roped into the planning and setting up. Penny is a whirlwind at the best of times and so she had Simon and I racing around like headless dragons, making sure everything was perfect. Penny is a complete and utter perfectionist.

The weeks running up to the party were fine. Christmas came and went in a flurry of snow and snogging. Simon and I spent it wrapped up in each other, barely fighting – a feat for us. I couldn’t help but showering his moles with kisses every time we were close and occasionally Simon would brood and I’d question his feelings, but we settled our issues quickly and simply enjoyed each other’s company. It was bliss. Our first Christmas together as a couple and every moment just made me grin. I had to keep pinching myself and asking how this happened. How did Simon become mine?

I don’t need to ask that question anymore.

Simon isn’t mine.

It ended in drunken slurs, shattered glasses, slammed doors, and tear-streaked faces.

Every night when I close my eyes, I see Simon stood out in the rain, his golden curls plastered against his freckled skin. The rain streamed down his face, mixing with his tears. I tried to call him back but he spread those stupid, leathery wings of his and flew away. There was no way to find him then. He was gone.

That was the last time I saw him.

No-one knows where he went. Not even Penny. Unless she is lying to me.

So now, I have nothing left.

Every night, I lay awake with my mobile laying on my chest. Often, I feel it vibrate and I grab it too fast. It’s never anything: a weather update, a news flash, or a vibration I imagined. When I do sleep, I dream fitfully, kicking and shuffling. I dream that a text flashes on the screen saying ‘forgive and forget’ and Simon comes through my door.

That would be too perfect.

It was all too perfect.

Somehow though, despite not knowing where he is or what he is doing, I know he is thinking about me. He thinks about me in my half-made bed, waking up alone. I know he opens his eyes and he sees me, smirking at him. I know this because I’m thinking of him at the same time.

Through the day, I wander the streets. I pass bars, cafes, shops, restaurants, places where the silhouettes of things we regret pass me by. When I pass these places, my heart jumps out of my chest and I can’t catch my breath. I wonder if he thinks of me when he passes these places. If he passes these places now.

Years go by without a word and yet I still wake, thinking of him, despite the other beside me in the bed.

Simon

It’s his wedding day. Penny has told me the exact time and date of it all. Just before the ceremony starts, I imagine him in his grey suit, his hair slicked back, a smirk flickering upon his lips and yet somehow, I know he’s thinking of me.

All the years will go by and I don’t think we’ll ever not think of each other.

Somehow, we’ll always be thinking of each other at the same time.

We’ll be wondering all our lives about what could have been. We’ll wonder if we would have even made it. Those thoughts always fill me with guilt. Was I the reason this all ended?

Am I the reason that we become old and grey, both move on, and at the end of our lives, we still think of each other at the same time?

Baz

All these years later, I am still thinking of him. I have lived my life but mine will never end. His has and now it will always just be me thinking of him all the time.

[waywardmages-blog]

me_irl

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*touches things*

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From @veggiedayz: “Blackberry has a song he wants to sing for you.” #cutepetclub [source: http://ift.tt/28SdMmN ]

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Motherless, Magickless, Worthless - COC Day 11: Angst

Not sure on this piece at all but I gave it a go. If you haven’t read to the end of Carry On then don’t read this. I hope some get enjoyment out of this :) Angsty Simon, sweet Baz.

For COC 2019: Day 11 - Angst

Word count: 1280

Simon

I am so fed up of hearing ‘it’s fine’, ‘it’s going to be okay’, ‘you’ll get through this’, ‘we’ll get through this’. It is infuriating.

It is not fine, it is not going to be okay, I will not get through this, and we most certainly won’t get through this.

Baz and Penny have quickly learned to not pat my back or rub my shoulders, but it doesn’t stop the ‘reassuring’ words or the pathetic glances at me. I lost everything that day. I lost him, I lost my magic, I lost my soul, I lost everything. They don’t seem to understand, how could they?

Penny walks on dragon eggshells around me, trying to plate my food high with my favourite treats and chastising me if I barely touch anything. How could I eat when I feel so empty? Any time food touches my lips, I want to vom. Penny tries to pretend nothing has changed, she reassures me that I still have friends and still have Watford. She blabbers on logically and optimistically about everything and anything. I zone out often. I stare into space. It is then that I feel Baz’s eyes on me. I know he’s scanning to see how pale I am, how sallow my skin has become, how dark the bags under my eyes are becoming. I can see his mouth smooth into a fine line and his brows furrow. Sometimes his lithe fingers will lift and hover over his lips. I know then that he is deep in thought. He’s trying to work out how to fix me.

Days later, it is too much…

“Please, just stop!” I scream at Baz, my voice cracking.

I forced him to sleep in his bed last night, but I wake up and he is staring at me, intensely. His face is twisted with concern and I just cannot handle the pity anymore.  

Baz’s brows knit together immediately, the way they do when he doesn’t understand what is going on or how someone feels.

“Stop what?” he asks and sits up in bed.

I am prepared for what’s about to happen. I see his long legs sweep out of the bed, ready to come over to mine and wrap his arms around me. He will bury his head in my neck, kiss my mole, and pretend that I am safe and normal, and nothing has changed.

Before he can do anything that I predicted, I jump out of bed and just run. I don’t even bother changing, I don’t have time for that.

I run and run. I race down the stairs, stumbling slightly on the last two crooked ones. I run over the drawbridge, screaming as I do, shouting to the heavens how nothing is fair. I find my eyes glancing towards the place where it all happened…where she died, where he died…where I died.  

I screw my eyes shut and run even faster.

I clamber over branches and feel the familiar pull of thorns, ripping my pyjama leg. I continue to scream and shout and punch and lash out. If I still had my magic, I would go off right now. My wings would flap furiously, and steam would emanate from my body. I’d create a planet size hole in the magickal atmosphere and make magic vibrate through the bloodstream of every single mage in this godforsaken school.

Instead, I have nothing. I am just Simon.

Simon Snow, the motherless, magickless, worthless.

I know I am probably waking every single living being in this forest.

Good.

I want one to be so angry with me that it will blow me to oblivion. Then the pain would end, then I would stop feeling so empty and so useless.

And that is when I cry.

I slump to the forest floor and put my head in my hands. The tears come freely, and I sob.

I can feel something watching me in the distance, but I continue to sob, hoping whatever it is will finish me off. I’ll be gone soon, and Penny and Baz can just get on living their perfect, magic lives without me in the way, boring them to death.

“Snow?”

I think I imagined the voice, his voice. His smooth, deep tone. It sends shivers down my spine and I just cry more.

“Snow, what are you doing here?”

“Snow?! What is wrong?”

There it is again; I still do not lift my head, but I suddenly feel his touch and I know its him. I know his hands better than anyone’s.

His arms embrace me and pull me in, holding me tight as if I am a child, needing comfort. He rocks me back and forth but I pull away, too quick. His body jolts and I blink back tears enough to see the wounded look of rejection open his face but his eyes still swim with pity.

“Stop looking at me like that!” I shout at him. This time it’s my turn to furrow my eyebrows. I screw my face up, contorted in both rage and sadness.

“Like what?” Baz asks coolly. He always has shaken off rejection too fast.

“Like I am a teapot that needs to be glued together. Like I am a puppy who needs a home. Like I am just a charity case that you keep around because you feel sorry for me!” My voice gets higher but it breaks and the tears have choked me. The words instead come out like a strangled sob.

“What on earth are you on about, Snow?” Baz exclaims, looking even more puzzled.

“You called me Simon once…” I whisper. I realise how pathetic it sounds but I cannot handle all of this right now.

“Simon…  Snow… just whatever! Just tell me what is going on with you?” I stand in front of him, my leathery wings standing tall against my back in the darkness; a permanent scar from that day.

I shake my head. “How do you not know?”

“How do you not see how I am not like you anymore! I am not magic, I can’t go to this school, I’m not the Chosen One…I shouldn’t even be your roommate!”

“I shouldn’t even be…”

I let out a sigh as I stop flapping my arms around, dropping them exhausted at my sides.

“I’m not good enough…Not for this school…Not for Penny…Not for you…” I visibly droop but suddenly I am engulfed in his arms. I instinctively drop my head against his shoulder, smelling the aftershave that long ago used to nauseate me.

“You’re an idiot, Simon Snow,” he whispers, his lips gently caressing my ear.

“An absolute twat, really. You absolutely belong here and who cares if you’re not like me? You’ve never been like me! I have never seen your fangs before, have I?” I shudder with a sob in his arms.

“You belong, you fit in, and you are more than good enough for me, Simon.” He whispers and I manage to smile slightly. I move my head to his chest and feel him lightly kiss the top of my head.

“I will also add that thank fuck you have no magic left…You were a right disaster with it anyway.” I manage to laugh as he pulls a lopsided grin. He places his fingers beneath my chin and lifts my head. He pushes his lips against mine and I give in. I relax in his embrace and when we pull away, he holds me there for what seems like hours.

I may not fit in or belong or be who I thought I was but I am not alone. I have something way better than magic anyway.

[waywardmages-blog]

Let the fight begin!

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I know you’re tired bitch but keep fucking going

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How could this be... This is the most heartbreaking fic ever. I knew angst day would kill me!

COC Snowbaz 11- Always Ends in Flames

COC #11: Angst Day

Simon and Baz don’t know if they’ll make it… maybe they’re just not meant to be?

~ Sometimes we don’t have happy endings with the people we think we will- and that’s okay. It won’t kill you. *Sad wink*. Enjoy! ~

“Simon, anywhere you are is-” He cuts me off.

“Where you want to be, I know!” He lifts his hands up in exhaustion. I’m bloody tired, too. “But honestly, Baz, I think… I don’t think we were meant to be. I don’t feel like this is right- not anymore. It’s too hard.” It’s taking every fucking thing in me not to cry. (Which is bloody hard when your boyfriend is breaking up with you on the grounds of ‘not feeling right.’)

“Bollocks!” My voice breaks. I’m more than sad. I’m angry. “That’s bullshit, Simon Snow. Nothing has ever felt more right.” I’m insistent; intent on scrounging up what little of a relationship we have left. (Maybe it’s pointless, but when has that ever stopped me from pining and trying?)

“Baz,” He interjects, softly this time. “I can’t do this anymore. We’re too different… too broken. I just,” (Broken… it always comes down to being broken.) He sighs, looking at me with his tear-filled perfectly, heartbreakingly Simon eyes. He thinks for a moment, debating on what to say next. When he figures it out, his face sets in resolve, sadness still brimming behind his facade. “I don’t love you enough.” He breaks eye contact with me. My whole world is collapsing - the air being sucked from the room - and the absolute fucking bastard can’t even look me in the eye. 

I take a step toward him and soften my voice as I say, “How about you look me in the eyes and say that?” I take his hand. He looks up at me, (extra)ordinary face gleaming with tears and snot. He’s a mess. (I would usually think that’s cute- right now I couldn’t hate it more.) His eyes bore into me. Somehow I know that what he says next will be the making or breaking of our relationship. (It becomes very bloody apparent that this could be the end of this- of us. I’m not ready. Could I ever be ready for having no more of Simon Snow?)

“I…” He takes a deep breath, but he holds my stare nonetheless. “I just don’t love you enough to keep going with this. It isn’t working anymore- I’m sorry.” One breath. One single stuttering exhalation of air is all that comes out of my mouth in response. I stumble backwards, my mind going a mile a minute. This is really it. The end of my world. I always knew that his love was too good to be true. Heartbreak. What a funny word- I suppose it does exactly what it says on the tin. 

All of a sudden, I feel as though my nerves have turned to steel, my tears to drying acid and my heart to stone. I went from blubbering to pleading to… well. To this. Absolutely fucking done. I’m a Grimm-Pitch for fucks’ sake. When did I start letting myself cry in front of other people? (Not other people. Simon.) If tears could be reversed and sucked back into your eyes, then Crowley, I think it would happen at this moment. Nothing and no one makes a sound. Not a move. We’re staring at each other and I feel like I don’t care anymore. I’ve gone through too much trial and error with Simon Snow and his ‘love’. It’s been too much. The thing is, if you go through trials and trials and still find errors in the end… maybe it’s the experiment itself that isn’t working. 

“Fine.” He looks taken aback. 

“F-fine? Fine?” He’s breathing more heavily now, but I’m as calm right now as I have been in months.

“Yes, Snow. I don’t know where I’m going to go now, but yes. Fine. I’m not going to stay with someone who doesn’t love me and who thinks I’m not worth it,” I sigh, running another hand through my hair, pulling at the roots. (Simon, tugging at my hair in bed. Always, always so nice and safe. Was there really never any love there? Was I imagining it all?) “But I hope you know that this is it for us, Simon Snow. There’s no going back.” I’m having trouble believing myself to be bloody well honest. (If Snow came back and said he wanted me, I’m sure I’d be putty in his hands once again.) (I’m just making a point, I suppose.)

“Baz, I do love you, it’s just-”

“No, Simon,” My voice is as cold as Manchester in the Winter. “You don’t.” He shakes his head like I’m wrong. (This boy is a walking contradiction. Aleister Crowley, how did I ever love him?) (Because he’s Simon Snow and I just couldn’t help myself.) 

“Where are you going to go?” He asks me quietly, gazing at the ground as if it were far more interesting that our current conversation. 

“Las Vegas, probably. To see Lamb.” I throw venom in my voice like I did all that time ago in Watford. (It works- he shoots his head up at me and glares.)

“You’re going to be with Lamb?!” He hisses. (Hisses, really. Nicks and Slicks, how the fuck could he still be jealous of Lamb? I’m only capable of loving Simon Snow.) Nonetheless, I nod my head. “Fine. Have a great fucking life, Basilton.” With that, he walks away. It’s funny how things can just end so abruptly. We ended as quickly and as angrily and as messily as we had begun. We ended with anger and fire and hate that was once love. (I once thought that the only way we would end is if I died- this is pretty bloody close.)

______

I do go to Vegas. One week later, I’m on a plane headed straight for Nevada. I don’t know what I’ll do there- maybe I’ll finally find my kind. Maybe I’ll find my kind and finally be happy without Snow. As I gaze out the window of the plane and watch the wings glide slowly through the air, I notice something odd. A lot of smoke is coming from the jets, and the wing itself is starting to smoke.

The wing catches on fire. There’s an emergency. Brace for impact. I know that we’re not going to make it. But as we soar toward the ocean in a frenzy, I can only think about one thing. (My mind hates me.)

Blue eyes. 

Bronze curls.

The fact that Simon Snow is alive, and nobody can hurt him- not even me.

And I always knew that this would end in flames.

[waywardmages-blog]

✨✨🐱

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Back in the days when...

Eh, I enjoyed writing yesterdays a lot so let’s just keep going!

Just a disclaimer, I have only read Carry On. I am receiving Wayward Son for Christmas so all my fics take place in the Carry On universe before Wayward Son. 

For COC 2019 day 10 - Side Character

Mitali Bunce

I often wonder how things would have turned out if she had not disappeared with him. 

If wonderful, beautiful, talented Lucy Salisbury had never met Davy and fallen absolutely head over heels in love. 

I reckon she would still be here, living serenely in an old cottage in the English countryside. She would have chickens, ducks, goats, and sheep racing around the fields alongside four charming young children and a dashingly handsome husband. That is the life I had always hoped for her. The life I hope she has somewhere... For some reason, I feel like I will never know what happened.

Is she still out there? Did she really run off to America? Is she out there living it up in whole foods shops, covered in tattoos she has spelled on herself? Or has she passed? Is she no longer with us? Did something terrible happen to her? Did Davy find her when she ran away? What really happened?!

Some days I could pull my hair out thinking about it, but I am usually far too busy for that. My mobile constantly pings and my computers makes weird noises signifying updates that I have no idea what mean. Pages and pages of documents get sent to my e-mail and some days, when I am thinking too deeply about Lucy and our days at Watford, I spell them away and go back to them another time. 

It doesn’t feel that long ago that we were at school. The three of us - Lucy, Davy and I - used to hang out by the great oak tree that had branches hanging over the lake. Once, Melvin Weatherfield climbed these branches and almost lost his buttocks to a hungry merwolf. The three of us laughed for hours until Lucy and I held our sides in agony. Melvin survived of course but not without a bite mark or two to show the grandchildren.

Down by that tree, I used to stare off across the lake, mentally preparing for the next exam or trying to come up with a clever, new spell, probably something that would silence Davy. Davy was constantly yammering about the unfair system at Watford and always seemed to mumble about great power or something... I can’t even remember as I tuned out so often. Sometimes I spelled bits of paper to smack into his head, ones that read ‘shut up!’ on them. Lucy didn’t care though. Lucy thought the world of Davy. She would gaze up at him admirably with those large, blue eyes. She’d nod along to whatever he said, bobbing her curly blond hair. Davy was her hero and she was his endless supporter.

Of course, Davy lapped this up. He loved attention, he always had. If he wasn’t the centre of attention, he would do whatever it took to make sure he was. I think this is why he liked Lucy so much - she never spoke out of turn, despite how powerful she was, she adored everything about him, and she hung on his every word. I think he liked her maybe but mainly because she thought the sun shone out of his ass. He was an angel in her eyes. In mine, I could see something different. I guess that’s why he took her away. I was told she moved to America but I have never really believed that. I believe Davy promised her the moon, whisked her away and when he had had enough, he tossed her aside. Maybe then moved to America. Maybe...

Despite my clear disdain for Davy, I do miss those days. I miss the glimmer in Lucy’s eyes, Davy leaning against the tree, Martin wandering by shyly and smiling at me. We were a good team - a golden trio. We had fun, adventures and love for one another. I miss that. I especially miss my best friend, Lucy. I will always miss Lucy. 

[waywardmages-blog]

10: Side Characters

Ebb: …and I told him, haven’t been fighting so much lately, have ya? You come out here, drifting like one of my lost nannies, pining for Young Master Pitch. Ever stop to think why?

Dryad: You are preaching to the woodland choir, my good lady. He wandered deep into the Wavering Wood to burden me with his lamentations, mooning for the pale and pretty bloodeater.

Ebb: S'like, sometimes I just want to bash him on the head with my biscuit tin. Wake the lad up.

Dryad: I believe we are far beyond the aid of biscuit tins, my dear goatherd. They could not even understand the pull of the Crucible, all those days ago.

The Crucible: Yeah, don’t get me started. I called it on day-fucking-one. They’re both hopeless.

[waywardmages-blog]

Jdhfjgk this is too perfect

Sooo uhhhh little known fact.... filters work on Baz 👀👀