nicole

A cute little fic where Baz gets a haircut and Simon just can’t hold his tongue anymore.

Simon

My hand automatically flies to my side to summon my sword when I open my bedroom door and see someone I don’t recognize.

His back is facing me, and when he hears me come in he whips around. “Woah there, Snow, no need for the sword.”

My eyes grow wide and my jaw drops. It’s Baz. Except he’s cut his long black locks short, that’s why I didn’t recognize him. I’m speechless. He was attractive before but now he’s..I don’t even have words for it.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Perfect.

“Close your mouth before flies get in there, Snow.” His hands move up to tug at his newly short hair and I can’t stop staring. His eyes look bigger without hair falling in them and I never noticed before but his eyebrows are bloody perfect.

“You-You,” I don’t even know what I’m trying to say but whatever it is won’t come out anyway. “Yes?” He questions with a cock of one of his perfect eyebrows. “You cut your hair.” I manage to spurt out.

He smirks. Dear Merlin, he looks good. “Very observant aren’t you?” He says in a sarcastic tone. He walks from where he was standing in front of the wardrobe to sit on his bed. I go to sit on my own.

“When did you decide to do that?” I’m still staring at him. I cannot believe how good he looks, he’s got his short locks pushed up into a quiff. “Just today.” He touches his hair again self-consciously. This is a side of Baz I’ve never seen, he seems nervous.

I want so badly to tell him that it looks good but I don’t want it to come out the wrong way, so instead I just keep my mouth shut.

We’re just sitting on our beds staring at each other for what seems like an eternity. Baz scratches the back of his head and breaks our eye contact. “Well, I better get going, see you later Snow.”

He gets up and begins walking toward the door. I can’t let him leave without telling him, it’ll eat me alive. “Baz, wait.” He stops in front of the door and turns around with a curious look on his face. I don’t like how far away I am from him, so I get up and walk toward him.

“It looks good.” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets so I don’t reach up and touch his hair. He gives me a confused look. “Your hair, your hair looks good.” I pull a hand out of my pocket and point stupidly at his head.

He gives me a look and I can’t describe, it’s something between longing and hurt. And Merlin and Morgana, when a slight blush begins to form on the tops of his cheeks, I almost lose it.

“Thanks Snow, I have to go.” He turns but I don’t want him to leave. I reach out and grab his wrist. “Stay.” I whisper. I don’t know what exactly I mean by it, all I know is that I don’t want him to leave, not now.

He doesn’t turn around, just stands there with my fingers wrapped around his wrist. Suddenly I feel ridiculous and take my hand away.

“What do you want Snow?” He turns around and I realize his eyes are the color of the sky on a stormy day. “Nothing, I don’t want anything, I just-” I stop myself, I’ve never been good with words and right now is no exception.

“You what?” He grabs the wrist that I was holding and begins rubbing it, like I hurt him. I don’t ever want to hurt him. “I-” I start again, and fail again. “Spit it out, Snow.”

“I like looking at you.” I don’t want to see the look of disgust he’s about to give me so I look at the floor. For a while all I hear from him is shallow breathing.

“Simon.” He breathes rather than says. It sends shivers through my whole body, he’s never called me Simon before. “Yea?” I reply, keeping my eyes glued to the floor.

“Look at me.” he says quietly, it makes my heart fall to my feet. But I don’t want to, can’t, look at him. I can’t be looking into his eyes when he spits his venomous rejecting words at me. “No.” I say simply. The way I say it reminds me of a child on the verge of crying.

“Fine, I’ll just have to make you.” He says before taking my face in both his hands and kissing me so hard I forget who I am for a second. I never realized it before this moment, but I’ve wanted this for a long time. I wrap my arms around his middle and bring him closer.

- The idea of him cutting his hair scalp short when he first arrives because he can finally have short hair.

- Him being relieved when he is roomed with Bazilton, another boy.

- Him making friends with Penelope, who is one of three people who know he is trans and do not terrorize him for it.

- Simon always either going to the bathroom to change or staying in his room.

- Him finding out too late that he could be on puberty blockers and having to ride out the final effects of female puberty.

- Penelope trying to charm his clothing so he doesn’t stain it or so it doesn’t betray his hips or bound chest.

- Him taking potions around his fourth year to deepen his voice and broaden his muscles and face.

- (Baz noticing all of this and dying inside because ‘Aw, shit, he’s fucking cute.’)

- Simon being nervous and not telling Agatha he is trans until she finds out herself.

- Simon sobbing into her shoulder when she promises she doesn’t mind, that it’s okay.

- Simon’s blood running cold when Baz walks out from the bathroom to see him midway through pulling on his binder.

- Baz turning bright red and stumbling back into the bathroom while shouting “SORRY.” And not coming out until Simon has all his clothing on.

- Baz being uncharacteristically awkward when he comes out and mumbling that “He won’t say a word, Snow.”

- Them moving to London and Simon finally being able to take hormones that can actually do something.

- Baz kissing Simon’s stomach and falling just short of his binder so he doesn’t make him uncomfortable.

- Baz’s stepmother joking that “It’s a shame one of you can’t give me grandchildren” and Simon dying laughing while Baz slaps his arm like “Shut the fuck up.”

Simon: That’s embarrassing!

Baz: We’re married,,

vinegar and bleach makes chlorine gas, which is highly toxic

ammonia and bleach makes chloramine, which is highly toxic

rubbing alcohol and bleach makes chloroform, which is highly toxic

hydrogen peroxide and vinegar makes peracetic/peroxyacetic acid, which can be highly corrosive

A/N: A Snowbaz drabble for @soecrates <3 Happy late birthday!!

Simon has never woken up before Baz. So he assumes Baz is at breakfast when he wakes up and goes to shower, humming an off key tune. He dresses quickly in the dorm and is about to leave when he hears a low groan.

Startled he turns to see a lump in Baz’s bed, moving.

“Baz?” Simon starts. He cautiously makes his way over and sees dark hair spread out over the pillow. The rest of Baz is hidden under a pile of blankets.

Simon considers leaving him there. It’s what Baz would do if he had slept late. But Baz is never late. It just doesn’t happen.

Simon slowly reaches out a finger and pokes the lump of blankets before quickly pulling back.

Baz groans again and rolls over, blearily blinking his eyes.

“What Snow?” he says, lacking his usual venom.

“Um, you’re late.” Simon says.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Then leave me alone.” Baz rolls back over.

Simon considers this for a moment, but he can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. Maybe Baz is plotting something. He’s doing this just to mess with Simon.

He pokes him again.

“Baz?”

“What” comes the muffled reply.

“Are you- are you okay?”

“I’m fine Snow, just leave me ‘lone,” Baz has rolled back over to face Simon. His face is pale, paler than usual. Simon thinks it looks kind of green. And there are beads of sweat on his forehead.

“You don’t look fine. Are you ill?” Simon asks.

“I don’t get ill,” comes Baz’s reply.

Without thinking, Simon presses the back of his hand to Baz’s forehead. He’s burning up.

“Baz, you’re definitely sick.” He can’t just leave Baz here, ill. What if he’s dying? Simon goes to the bathroom and gets a washcloth, running it under cold water and wringing it out. He comes back to Baz and carefully lays it on his forehead.

He hears Baz sigh and his eyes fall closed.

Simon watches him carefully for a bit, to make sure he’s still breathing, then decides he’s done what he could. He leaves the dorm as quietly as he can and decides to head to breakfast; if he hasn’t missed it already.

He can even ask Cook Pritchard for some soup while he’s there. He’s related to Baz, so he’ll probably help.

Penny ignores him when Simon tries to talk about Baz’s odd behavior.

“Can we not talk about Baz for once?” complains Agatha.

“But he’s sick!” Simon says, “Do vampires even get sick?”

Agatha rolls her eyes as Simon slathers more butter onto his scone.

“Seriously, Simon. Shut up.”

“But-”

“You have crumbs on your cheek,” Agatha interrupts.

Simon brushes at his face, completely missing the crumbs, before turning to Penny.

“Pen?” he asks.

“Yes Simon?” Penny mumbles, eyes still on her book.

“Do they?”

“Hmm?”

“Do vampires get sick?”

Penny glances up at him before sighing and closing her book.

“I can’t say I know Si.”

Agatha sights dramatically and gets up, moving to sit with Trixie and Keris.

A bell rings signaling fifteen minutes till first hour. Simon has a free period that he usually uses to visit Ebb or sleep some more.

Today though, he says goodbye to Penny and goes to get soup from Cook Pritchard.

When he gets back to the room, Baz isn’t in his bed. Simon pauses a moment and looks around. He knew Baz had been messing with him. It was all a plot to make Simon feel bad.  

He’s about to leave again when he hears retching coming from the bathroom. He quickly sets the soup down on his desk and runs into the bathroom.

Baz is curled around the toilet, miserable. His face green and his eyes dull. He retches again and Simon automatically moves, pulling Baz’s hair away from his face.

“Simon?” Baz asks. Even his voice sounds ill. It’s too soft and scratchy.

“Here.” Simon says.

Baz opens his mouth to say something but only retches again. Simon scrunches up his nose and does his best to ignore the smell of sick. He looks around and grabs a hair tie off Baz’s side of the sink, doing his best to put his hair up like he’d seen Baz do it. It’s lumpy and some stray hairs escaped, but it isn’t in his face anymore.

Baz groans and leans his forehead against the cool porcelain.

“Are you done?” Simon asks. “You know..” he trails off.

“I think so,” Baz says.

Simon takes Baz’s elbow and pulls him up.

“C’mon.” he says.

Baz complies, letting Simon lift him up off the floor and help him back to his bed.

He collapses against his pillow and looks at Simon blearily.

“Why are you doing this? Helping me?”

“Y-you’re sick Baz!” Simon stutters. “I can’t just let you be sick. Besides, I’m used to you plotting. My life gets boring without you plotting against me.”

Simon doesn’t actually know why he’s helping him. It’s probably something to do with how pathetic he looks. His eyes are dull and his hands are shaky. He’s nothing like he usually is. ‘You could almost forget he’s evil when he looks like this,’ Simon thinks.

Baz laughs and then groans, clutching his stomach.

“Are you going to puke again?”

“No.”

“Good.” He takes the washcloth from earlier this morning and moves it towards Baz’s face, but Baz pulls away.

“Baz.” Simon looks at him, eyebrows raised. Baz stares back.

“Let me help you.”

Baz huffs but doesn’t move away again when Simon brings the washcloth to his lips and wipes them off. Simon does his best to ignore the fangs pressing into Baz’s bottom lip. He’s too sick to attack him right now; that was a problem for another time.

“Do you think you can eat?”

Baz shakes his head.

“C’mon Baz, just a few bites. You need food to get better.”

Simon goes to the desk and brings the soup over. He lifts a spoonful to Baz’s mouth and Baz glares as he accepts it, carefully swallowing.

“I don’t need you to hand feed me, Snow,” he says after the first bite. But he didn’t sound mean or bitter, just exhausted.

“Oh really?” Simon asks. “Fine. You do it.”

He hands the spoon to Baz and watches him try to steady his trembling fingers. After three attempts at getting a spoonful of soup Simon snatches it back.

“I thought so,” He says, raising another bite of soup to Baz’s mouth.

With Baz eating something, his fangs pop out even more.

A thought occurs to Simon.

“Baz?” he asks slowly.

Grey eyes meet his and he opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again decisively.

“Do you need, like, blood?”

Baz snaps his mouth shut so quickly he can hear his teeth clack together. The muscles in his jaw stand out as he clenches his teeth. He’s obviously uncomfortable, resembling a wild animal caught in headlights.

“I- I’m not going to tell anyone Baz,” Simon says quickly, hand on his leg in an attempt to reassure him.

“Not even the Mage?”

Simon hesitates and Baz scoffs, a bit of his usual self appearing for a moment.

“I thought so.”

Simon straightens his shoulders and meets Baz’s eyes.

“No. Not even the Mage. Now do you have like an extra storage of blood or something for when you get sick?”

“Vampires don’t get sick, Snow. I’m already half dead.”

“Okay… but you’re sick now.”

“Shut up Snow.” Baz turns away and Simon can’t help but notice how hollow and grey his cheeks are.

“Seriously Baz, I can get blood for you. Not from people or anything but-”

“Do you really think I drink human blood?” Baz snaps.

Simon stops. He doesn’t know what to say. Baz is a vampire and he’s evil. Why wouldn’t he?

“Of course I don’t,” Baz continues. “Why do you think I’m in the catacombs all the time?”

“…Right.” Simon says. “Listen I’m sure Penny knows a spell or something that can-”

“No!”

“But Baz.”

“No.” Baz swallows. “No one else can know, okay?”

Simon looks at Baz, yet Baz doesn’t budge.

“Okay, Baz.”

Baz finally drifts off into a restless sleep. His eyes flutter and he cries out occasionally but he seems to not be dying so Simon heads down to the catacombs.

Simon can’t believe he’s doing this. ‘And for my enemy’, he thinks. But right now Baz doesn’t seem like an enemy, or a monster. He seems like a boy. A sick boy. Who Simon feels a duty to help.  

He shakes off feelings and thoughts of Baz and focuses on his task at hand. He pulls out his wand, not able to think of any easier way to catch a rat.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

About fifty rodents scurry out from the walls and Simon tries not to shriek.

“Go down like a lead balloon!” he shouts.

The catacombs go quiet again.

Simon stares at the rat massacre and sighs, lowering his wand. Baz had better appreciate this.

He lugs about ten dead rats back up the stairs in a backpack he had brought down and sets it beside Baz, who wakes up immediately, nose twitching.

Simon watches as he tentatively opened the bag and peers in before glancing at Simon. His mouth seems suddenly fuller than it was a few seconds ago.

“Thanks,” Baz says. The ‘s’ drawn out in a slight lisp.

“No problem,” Simon says, shrugging and sitting on his bed.

Baz gingerly picks up a rat and then glances at Simon.

“You don’t have to watch this.”

Simon scoffs. “I’ve already seen you puke your guts out Baz. I don’t think this is going to change anything.”

Baz self consciously licks his lips and opens his mouth to protest but Simon cuts him off.

“I’m curious, Baz. It’s - It’s kinda cool.” Simon blushes and Baz actually laughs. He laughs.

Simon doesn’t think he’s ever heard Baz genuinely laugh. It’s loud and surprising coming from someone who is so full of glares and smirks.

“You’re crazy,” Baz says.

“You’re a vampire.”

“I guess we match.”

They watch each other for a moment, and Baz cracks a small smile. He must be loopy from his fever, Simon decides.

“Go ahead,” he says, “Do your thing.”

Baz shakes his head but bites down on the rat’s neck and drains it of blood. He gets through about three more before he zips the bag back up and sets it on the ground.

He watches Simon warily for a reaction.

Simon is leaned forward, fascinated.

“So, like, how often do you need to do that?”

“Shut up, Snow.”

“No, really. Can you die if you don’t get enough blood?”

“Snow.”

“And can you control your fangs? Cause they’re not always there y’know.”

“I know, Snow.” Baz leans back onto his pillow and closes his eyes.

“Can you smell blood?” Simon continues, “Can you smell my blood? What do I smell like?”

Baz’s eyes remain closed. He’s quiet for a bit, but finally answers. “Like apples and cinnamon and smoked bacon.”

“So what you’re saying is I smell good.”

Baz cracks open one eye to see Simon grinning.

“Be quiet, I’m ill, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

He closes his eyes again only to feel a hand against his forehead. His mattress dips as Simon sits beside him.

“You’re fever seems to be down.”

“Mmm” Baz agrees.

“How do you feel?”

“Cold.”

Simon is warm. He radiates heat, even through the blankets. Baz can feel him where his thigh touches his side.

“How cold? Cause you could be too cold. If you’re too cold that’s not good either-”

“Shut up.”

“Baz, seriously,” Simon continues, “What if you’re like the opposite of a fever. Like a cold fever,”

“Shut up Snow.” Baz blindly reaches out and tugs on Simon’s arm. Simon loses his balance and falls against Baz’s chest.

Baz keeps his eyes closed. He has to. He can feel Simons breath against his cheek. Simon is so warm. Like a down blanket. But with harder edges and elbows and knees. Simon sucks in a breath as he’s pressed against Baz’s chest. Even sick, Baz doesn’t feel all that weak. He feels firm and unbreakable, and not like an enemy at all.

“…Baz?” Simon asks.

“Stay,” Baz mumbles drowsily.

“What? Are you sure?”

“Warm.”

“Okay, fine. Just to make sure you don’t get an opposite fever,” Simon says. He pushes away all the thoughts trying to race through his mind, determined just to enjoy this. Baz would probably push him away once he woke up and felt better, but for now, Simon could do what Baz wants.

“Mmm,” Baz hums.

“At least let me under the covers though.”

Baz, sleepily, feels Simon crawl over him and get under the covers before slowly wrapping his arms around him. Baz snuggles up to him, to tired to think or care about what he’s doing. Simon doesn’t protest, actually seeming to relax against him.

“Sleep well, Baz,” he whispers softly. Baz’s back is nestled against Simon’s chest and he can feel every breath Baz takes. He likes him here, Simon decides. He doesn’t have to worry about where Baz is and what he’s plotting when he’s right next to him. Simon’s eyes start to close and his breathing evens out to match Baz’s as he falls asleep.

A few Carry On cuties have asked me for book recs similar to it, but I want to taylor my recs to what you all want so I made this guide. There are more books I’d like to add, but this is already a hot mess. Also, below is a link to a good listopia that I think is helpful when looking for m/m fantasy reads.

they’re beautiful and poetic and tragic and heart-wrenching and brave. i highly suggest going and reading the excerpts. 

here’s the one that broke my heart:

PLEASE TAKE YOUR CAT TO THE VET IF YOU SEE THEM DOING THIS BEHAVIOR OVER TIME.

It’s called “head pressing” and it occurs in dogs and cats. 

Head pressing is characterized by the compulsive act of pressing the head against a wall or other object for no apparent reason. This generally indicates damage to the nervous system, which may result from a number of varying causes, including prosencephalon disease (in which the forebrain and thalamusparts of the brain are damaged), or toxic poisoning.

http://www.petmd.com/cat/conditions/neurological/c_ct_headpressing

http://www.vet.cornell.edu/FHC/health_resources/toxoplasmosis.cfm (head pressing is listed as a symptom)