#carry on
letraspal · 2 days
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You can start a family who will always show you love…
I came back from work earlier (well, technically, I sneaked out, but that's another story) to find my favorite album playing softly in the background and my favorite people giggling on the carpet in front of our tree surrounded by a mess of toys. Simon is doing a funny voice for the wood horse and our kid finds his father’s quip very amusing.
Henry is in that lovely age - that I wish we could freeze for a while longer - where he thinks Simon and I are the coolest people alive. Especially Simon, he's always so awestruck with his father, and Simon... Simon is all heart-eyes for him.
"Looks like you two are having fun, can I join you?" I say and they immediately jump on me. Henry hugs my leg and Simon wraps his arm around us both.
I'm home.
COC 2022, DAY 8: LYRICS @carryon-countdown
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Day 7: Veil
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“The Veil is closing. It will be twenty years before I can see my son again”. - @rainbowrowell
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krisrix · 21 hours
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COC Day 09 ▪︎ Staff
Professor Minos, my beloved
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oyabun-draws · 1 day
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coc 2022 Day 9: Staff
for this prompt I combined the prompt staff and the prompt wlw into one !
referencing this scene in carry on:
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anikamercat · 2 days
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COC prompt 8: lyrics
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ohmycuckoo · 4 hours
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Meanwhile, in Simon's head: *Baz* He's up to something, I'm sure of it".
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palimpsessed · 1 day
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Looks like it’s take your vampire boyfriend to work day at the construction site.
@carryon-countdown Day 9: Staff
This one is for @carryonmylovelies especially who, like me, read that Simon was getting his forklift licence and needed to see it immediately. It just took me a while to do this.
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Baz probably has an obligation to invent a new spell that will help the people who live upstairs forget these lyrics.
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dazed-squid · 3 days
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Natasha Pitch looks softer through the veil. Gentler. Much sadder, too.
@carryon-countdown day 7: Veil
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johnwgrey · 1 day
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excalisbury · 1 day
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Happy Carry On Art Remix, friends! I had the honor of remixing one bit of @letraspal's domestic snowbaz art series!
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Look at how cute they all are!! I love Annie's art in general (I think I've remixed or been inspired by her art a few times outside of official events) and this art was simply too cute!
So I decided to draw Sophie and Petra being Simon's shoes and Swithin and Baz walking in to investigate the mischief. My brother and I used to love doing this to our dad and make him walk around with two full children clinging to his feet. I can tell you from experience as a teen babysitter that it's very tiring.
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stardustasincocaine · 19 hours
Day 8 - Staff
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Putting the cock back in COC on day 8 with a shitty, shitty joke 😌
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Day 8: Lyrics
It's Simon and Baz's last winter break before they graduate, and subsequently never see each other again. They should be glad to be rid of each other, right? But then why are they clinging to what little time they have left? Why is it so hard to say how you really feel? 
(or, a fic inspired by the song Head Over Heals)
Length: 2532
Warnings: none
Read on AO3 or below the cut
“Looks like it might rain,” I say, leaning my forearms on the porch railing. The night sky is filled with cold gray clouds—the moon barely visible.
Baz makes a non-committal sound and takes another drag from his cigarette.
I don’t know why I followed him out here. It’s dark and cold and I’m breathing in second-hand smoke. I should have stayed inside with Shep and Penny. I should have left the party as soon as I saw Baz.
I never learned how to leave Basilton Pitch alone, though. The only thing worse than being around Baz is not being around him.
And a small, very stupid, part of me is convinced Baz invited me out here. I was laughing at a joke Shepard made, Baz was leaning against the living room wall, acting cool and better than everyone else at this crowded party. I looked up, across the people playing beer pong, and we locked eyes. He looked bored. I probably looked buzzed. Then Baz tipped his head towards the hallway and slipped away, through the house and out the sliding glass door.
He was probably just flicking some of his obnoxiously pretty hair out of his face, not gesturing for me to follow him out back. But I did. And now I’m out here, bothering him during winter break when we’re supposed to be enjoying the time we have away from each other and the tiny dorm room we share.
Freshman year Penny said I followed Baz around like a lost puppy. I argued with her about that at the time, but I’m starting to see her point.
I feel stupid, stood out here with nothing to say. No reason to be near Baz. I don’t know why he hasn’t told me to fuck off yet.  
“Did you see the sunset last night? It was gorgeous,” I try talking to him again.
Baz finally turns to look at me. The wood railing he leans against presses into his hip. Gray eyes peer down his long, crooked nose at me. I turn my neck to look up at him from my hunched over position.
If this is what gets his attention, I’ll keep talking. “It was mostly orange but like the underside of some of the clouds in the west, wer-were this crazy-pretty purple.”
Baz doesn’t say anything, so I keep going—I put my half empty cider can on the porch railing, and reach into my back pocket for my phone, ready to show him the grainy pictures I took of the sky yesterday. I move closer to him; one of my hands brushes his cool fingers griping the wood railing.
He flicks the ash of his fag and then pushes my hand away from him with a small sneer.
Anger bubbles up in me. He’s always doing shit like that: keeping me at a distance with a calculated system of touches. We only make contact when he’s pushing me away. It’s infuriating. It makes me want to shove my hands onto him, to bury myself in his chest and tear him apart, so he can’t get rid of me.
“Did you want me alone to talk about the weather?” Baz asks annoyed, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” I huff. I don’t mention I think he wanted me out here. He’d think I’ve gone mad. (Maybe I have).
Baz scoffs.
“So uh, how’s break been for you? Are you looking forward to finally being rid of me?” I ask, with a teasing smile. It’s easy to fall back on our familiar scripts of insults and fighting.
“I am counting down the days, Snow, had an advent calendar customized for the occasion,” he says grinning. He takes another drag, then hesitates before continuing, “I’ll admit, I am a little nervous about finishing this school year.”
“Well if the great Basilton Pitch is worried about his marks then the rest of us are well and truly fucked,” I joke.
He doesn’t smile, or even roll his eyes at me. Baz just looks at the ground.
“It’s not grades. It’s-I’m not sure what I want to do with myself after school. I don’t know if child education is even right for me anymore.” He slumps a little—his lips forming into a small frown.
Okay Baz must be a little drunk. There’s no way he’d be talking to me about his anxieties if he were sober.
I want to reassure him. I hate to admit it, but he’s brilliant—and charming when he wants to be—I’m sure he could be successful in any field he wanted.
“Do you not like it? Or are you worried you’ll be rubbish? Because I’ve seen you a few times with your siblings, you’ll be fantastic as a teacher.”
Baz’s cheeks flush just slightly, and for a moment a small smile crosses his face, but he quickly schools his features into the allure, uncaring mask I’m so familiar with. There are cracks in it this time though. It’s subtle: his cheeks are still red, and the corners of his mouth are ever so slightly pulled up. I doubt he even realizes this, but nothing about Baz escapes my attention.
My chest warms with the knowledge that I made him smile. Or no—it’s probably just the few ciders I drank. Yeah, that is what’s making me all warm and fuzzy inside.
“You don’t know anything, Snow,” he mumbles, before taking another drag. His eyes are glued to the wood we’re standing on. “My father’s always on me about not working hard enough for this, he thinks I’m wasting money. He wanted me to be a lawyer, or a doctor.”
“That’s bullshit,” I exclaim. Baz works harder at his education than anyone I know, besides Penelope.
“It’s just how he is,” Baz says like he’s trying not to care.
“It’s bullshit,” I say again, trying to get through to him. “Does he not know how dedicated you are? Does he not know you’re at the top of all your classes?” I ask, angry at the idea that anyone would try to discredit the passion and work Baz puts into his schooling.
“Enough, enough,” Baz waves me off. He tucks a stray lock of black hair behind his ear, his gray eyes shifting to the left. My eyes follow the movement of his long fingers. He looks at me again, long eyelashes fluttering. His mouth still smiling so small it’d be hard for anyone else to pick up on. And-
Oh. Oh fuck.
Inviting Snow out here was a terrible idea. His plain blue eyes shine in the faint moonlight, and he’s pointing that blazing sunshine smile of his at me. I can’t handle being this close to Simon Snow; it’s like standing in the middle of a burning forest. I was set on fire the moment we met.
I used to hate him. Those first few months my crush on Simon was insufferable, and I was terrified of my presumably straight roommate finding out I was gay. It frustrated me endlessly, so I took it out on him. I didn’t realize what I felt for him had turned into love until I’d established myself as the villain in Snow’s life. And then it was too late for me to do anything but watch myself burn.
And now he’s talking to me like he cares about what I have to say. And I’m (idiotically) opening up to him, which for some unfathomable reason he’s being nice about. It’s the most we’ve said to each other without getting antagonistic. It’s doing wonderful (cruel, painful) things to my heart. I can’t help but think about his future, and mine, and the imaginary one in my head that we spend together.
I should leave—go back inside, or take the tube home, but I’m weak. And Snow’s standing so close to me I can almost feel the heat radiating off of him.
We go back to uni for our last semester together in a few days, and then whatever I have with Snow will be over, permanently. I’ve always known he wouldn’t be in my life forever, but lately I’ve really been living in the past, trying to pretend this (as if there is a this. As if I’ll ever be anything to Simon Snow) will last longer. I’ll drag tonight out as long as I can.
“What are your grand plans after graduation?” I ask, desperate to keep him here with me. I puff out smoke from my cigarette. Snow puffs out a warm breath into the cool night air.
He looks like his brain’s overheating.
I’m in love with him.
I drop my head into my empty palm. Everything hits me so fast I feel dizzy with it. I’m in love with Basilton Pitch. Holy shit. Of course I don’t realize until I’m already head over heels and truly fucked. My heart’s racing so fast I think it’s going to burst out of my chest. I can’t breathe.
Fuck, okay, I need to calm down. It’s not that big of a deal, yeah?
I try to focus on what Baz asked me. He says something about graduation, and plans after.
“I-” my brain is scrambling to come up with words that make sense “-I don’t know. I went into mathematics because I like it, but I’ve no clue what jobs I could even get with my degree.” I shrug. The academic advisor’s been on me about figuring out my future, but I’m not good at thinking about that shite. It’s too overwhelming, so I just don’t think.
Baz stares at me in disbelief. “How do you not know your career options?”
I shrug. “It’s scary,” I admit to him. “I never thought I’d make it to uni. In the care home I never thought I’d graduate secondary school.”
I try not to say things like that to people. They either look at me with pity or try to be encouraging by saying I would have found a way to finish school even as an orphan. I hate both reactions.
Baz doesn’t do either, he just nods.
This is okay, I can handle this. I can fancy Baz for a few months and then graduate and move on like it’s nothing. Easy-peasy.
I’m staring at his lips. I can’t stop staring.
They look so soft, and kissable. I want to know if his mouth is as cold as his hands always are.
Baz raises an eyebrow at me.
I flick my eyes up to his. He’s giving me that look—the one that usually means he wants to throttle me for being a prat. It sends an electric thrill down my spine and settles in my core.
“Sorry I sh-” I feel my face burning up “-I shouldn’t have said that, about secondary school.”
I force my gaze away from Baz’s mesmerizing face.
“What do you want to do? With your life, without thinking about education or money or other bullshit,” Baz asks.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I don’t think about it.”
He looks puzzled. I expect a jab at my intelligence, but it never comes.
“I think blacksmiths are cool, but like, is that even a career anymore?”
Baz lets out a loud laugh.
“Shut up,” I groan. For one fleeting moment I thought we could be pleasant towards each other.
“Sorry, sorry,” Baz composes himself. “I think that’s hot-cool. It’s cool.”
I can’t help the giant smile that takes over my face.
“Shut up,” Baz rolls his eyes.
“I’m just surprised, you’ve never told me how sexy you find me before.”
“Oh god,” he groans. I laugh at his pained expression. “Please make it stop,” he dramatically begs.
“It’s okay, we all know I could never measure up to the standards of the great Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”
I should go along with Simon’s self-deprecating joke, but I can’t let him go on thinking he isn’t the most attractive man in existence, and the ticking time bomb on our relationship has me feeling desperate.
“You want to know something embarrassing?”  I ask.
He nods.
“I was so mean to you when we first met because I had a raging crush on you and was too closeted to admit it.”
Simon’s eyes widen. I can see the cogs turning in his brain. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just looks like he’s choosing his next works carefully. Something I can’t imagine Snow has ever done before. It worries me. Maybe I’ve truly fucked things up this time.
“You know what else is embarrassing?” he asks. “I just realized tonight that I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year.”
“That’s not funny.” God, this was a terrible idea.
“It wasn’t a joke,” Simon says seriously.
But it must be, there’s no way I have a chance with Simon Snow.
I want to leave, but my eyes catch the can Simon left on the railing. Its logo is a four-leaf clover. I’ve never believed in good luck charms, but maybe tonight the universe will be on my side.
I look into Baz’s eyes. His gaze flicks down to my lips. I take a step towards him. Baz drops his fag and snuffs it out while keeping his eyes on me.
This close I can feel his breath on my face. It smells like stale nicotine but I don’t care.
I pull him down to me by the back of the neck, and attack him. I don’t hesitate—I can’t—I’ll burst out of my skin if I don’t kiss him right now. Baz melts into the kiss.
Baz kisses me back just as passionately. Like he’s a drowning man and I’m his only source of air. It makes my knees weak.
I tangle a hand into his long dark hair. It’s so smooth. Exactly how I imagined. Baz moans when I tug.
One of his hands cups my jaw, the other moves towards my arse, pulling my closer.
I press him against the wood railing, and then I keep pressing. My hands are reaching for every little bit of Baz I can touch. I can’t get close enough. I need to be closer, I need to meld us together into one. I need to make up for all the time we wasted fighting with each other. Maybe then Baz would know how much I love him. He’d understand what he means to me.
He rubs a thumb across my cheek, then pushes me away, for air.
I pout; I still haven’t gotten my fill of Basilton Pitch.
“Simon,” he breathes.
“Baz,” I say, kissing his bottom lip, it’s swollen from all the kissing. The thought makes my insides fuzzy. I move down to kiss his chin.
“Simon,” Baz says again.
“Baz,” I hum, my lips just under his ear.
He starts to shiver at the sensation, but stops himself.
“Simon,” he says seriously.
I pull away to look at him. “What?”
“Tomorrow, when you’re sober-” he swallows. My eyes follow the bob of his Adam’s apple. “-don’t break my heart.”
“Never. Never Baz.” And I let myself hope he won’t break mine either.
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azocscreativespace · 2 days
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3-12, day 9: Staff
I still couldn't find a description for the mage besides brown hair and a 'pencil thin moustache' so I went with that... And accidentally made him hot... I'm not proud of it...
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@carryon-countdown day 8: Lyrics
It's finally here! The Mage's Heir poem I've been writing for a couple months is finally complete!
The Ballad of the Courageous Fuck
Comes, he comes, the Mage’s heir, A complete numpty, an absolute nightmare, Yet strong and brave, just and true, Though, the grey-eyed mage will be his doom.
He comes with sword raised, comes wreathed in flame, The miracle boy doth live up to his name. Strikes down, he does, the ones in his path, Monsters no match for his mentor-induced wrath.
Comes, he comes, the Mage’s heir, With blade of fire and golden hair, Idiocy abundant and brave’ry untold, The oaf’s magickal flare is pow’r to behold.
Comes, he comes, the Mage’s heir, And should evil meet him there, He’ll win its heart, the raven-haired one’s, The pow’r of the Mage sure to be undone.
On love’s light dragon wings he rides, in the hour of need, To save the world with bended knee. Through fire and flame, he fights, he falls, The savior of magic, the end of it all.
Comes, he comes, the Mage’s heir, And should evil meet him there, The blood will flow, the world will know, Our just and handsome, Blue-eyed, winsome, Lovely, blushing, Mage’s heir.
Credit to @bookish-bogwitch for the title!
I believe it was @carryonvisinata that brought up the idea of all the fancy insults Baz calls Simon are actually from Greatest Mage poems and songs that Simon never learned, and that prompted me to write the first stanza. This was one of the most fun poems I've written, but it was also the hardest because I usually write free-verse poetry. I haven't had to write rhyming poetry in years.
Credit also to @johnwgrey for her photoset, which was open in my browser while I was writing this poem to make sure that I didn't miss names that Baz calls Simon.
I also recorded myself reading this if you're interested in hearing me read it... I do not have any fancy recording equipment, so I just recorded it on a recording app on my phone, but I hope y'all like it.
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gender-luster · 3 months
you're laughing. so many people are going to find out that the queen died via that fucking supernatural meme and you're laughing.
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