carry on countdown


Originally posted by charnellecatastrophe

Called It

A YouTuber AU SnowBaz fanfic for the Carry On Countdown


Simon Snow’s first YouTube video is one of my favourites.  It’s as painfully awkward as any other YouTuber’s first video.  He sits up too straight in his chair, he smiles and laughs too mechanically, and the film quality itself is poor, with half of his words lost to shoddy editing. Yet despite all this, it’s adorable.

           And of course, it’s the origin of the biggest OTP on YouTube, SnowBaz.

           “Hi guys,” Simon waves at the camera, his hand going all pixelated at the movement.  “Welcome to the first video on my channel!”  He’s inserted a sound effect of people cheering.  I have to laugh.  It’s so damn cringe-worthy.

           He goes on for a few moments, trying to make jokes and jump-cuts that work, when finally, it’s everyone’s favourite part.

           “What are you doing, Snow?” comes a voice from off-camera.  My heart turns to mush.


           Simon’s new flatmate, or at least he was new at this point.

           “Making my first YouTube video,” Simon grins up at someone behind the camera.  “Come say hi!”

           “-bleep- no.”

           Even the censor sounds old, like it was stolen from the year 2007.

           Simon looks a bit panicked, like he’s realizing that he’ll have to edit out the swear word.  A door slams somewhere out of the shot.

           “That’s my new flatmate,” he tells us.  “His name is Baz.  He’s kind of a prat.”

           “Just you wait,” I whisper at my computer screen. “Just you wait.”


           Simon and Baz do not get along.  At all.

           That much is clear from the first video, but it become increasingly obvious as Simon posts more frequently.  He often films in the living room, which drives Baz insane.

           “Why don’t you film in your own room?” he says, audibly annoyed.

           “The lighting in there is terrible,” Simon protests.

           “Well, I’d like to be able to walk around my own flat, if you don’t mind.”

           “Go ahead, no one’s stopping you,” Simon shrugs. “Besides, the viewers keep saying they want to see you.”

           “Well, who wouldn’t?”

           Good old Baz.  Sarcastic and full of himself.  They don’t appear to realize it, but the two of them balance each other out perfectly.

           Little by little, Baz begins to make his mark on Simon’s channel.  At first we only hear him from off-screen, offering his two bits about nearly everything Simon has to say.  Many of his comments are admittedly quite mean and uncalled for, but Simon never edits them out.  Baz is the invisible heckler.  Viewers begin to latch onto this weird relationship of apparent hatred and, as YouTube viewers are wont to do, turn it into a new ship.  “SnowBaz” they call it, and before long the comment sections on all of Simon’s videos are full of things like “I ship it” and “OTP”.

           I try not to fall victim to this shipping trend myself.  It feels insensitive to me, shipping real live people that I’ve never even met like they’re objects of sorts.  But even I can’t deny that the two of them would be cute together.  Provided they stop hating each other.

           Then Baz appears onscreen for the first time.

           He’s on the couch in the background, facing away from the camera.  All we can see is long black hair.  He only moves when he’s shouting ridicule at Simon’s words.  Once he turns his head further to make himself heard, and we catch a glimpse of the light brown skin of his face.  This time the comments are all “is that Baz?” and “OMG BAZ”.

           After that he starts to appear more often. Sometimes he’s facing the screen, looking down at his phone or a book.  He’s tall, and his hair reaches his shoulders.  The expression on his face goes between concentration and a sneer, that latter of which he reserves for his heckling.  It doesn’t take long for people to start commenting on how attractive he is.  Still Simon leaves all the footage of Baz in his videos, not hiding a single rude comment from his viewers.

           Once, Simon tries to get Baz to join him for a “meet my flatmate” video.  Baz responds simply by flipping Simon off in the background, which Simon has to pixel out. He’s gotten better at editing at this point.

           Sometimes Simon posts daily vlogs on days when he does things that he considers exciting.  The things that Simon finds exciting are too cute for words.  They tend to be little events like going to a coffee shop, things that are almost mundane but for some reason they excite him. He does this thing where he dances when he’s excited.  He’ll bob his head cheerfully as he walks, glad to just be out.  He’s gone to the grocery store with Baz a few times in his vlogs.  Those videos are some of the best ones.  They bicker about everything from which kind of milk to get to who gets to carry the baskets.  Sometimes we can see Baz’s mouth quirk like he’s trying not to laugh, like all this bickering is just a game for him.  Of course, this sends the SnowBaz shippers into a frenzy, the idea that maybe, just maybe, Baz doesn’t hate Simon as much as he lets on.

           But there’s one video on Simon’s channel that is the absolute bread of life for anyone who ships the two of them.  Simon is doing a Q&A, and as usual Baz is sitting and reading in the background.

           “This question is from Twitter,” Simon says, reading off of his phone.  “They ask ‘Are you in love with anyone right now?’”

           And if you look closely, you can see Baz go rigid.

           “Well,” Simon leans in close to the camera, “I have been messaging with someone quite a lot.  I don’t know who the person is, but we’ve gotten really close and I’m starting to think -”

           “Could you keep it down, Snow,” Baz pipes up, his voice tight.  “I’m trying to read over here.”

           Simon doesn’t speak of it any further, but Baz sneaks glances at the back of Simon’s head more than once before the video is over. I don’t know how Simon could have not noticed it.  Certainly every single one of his viewers did, which is to say over a million people. Perhaps love is completely daft.


           When I arrive home from work on a particularly rainy day in October, I am delighted to open my computer and find that Simon is in the middle of a livestream.  Comments flow constantly from the sidebar and I settle in to join the party.  He’s in a different room this time, one with a neatly made bed on which he sits, and I gather that it’s his room.  It looks so clean, but I wonder if there’s a disaster hiding behind the camera.

           Simon leans towards us like he’s trying to read all of the comments and questions as they flood in.  He gets a lot of I love you’s and he grins in response, trying to return as many of them as possible.

           “I’ve got to go soon,” he tells us and I sigh in disappointment, “but I’ll answer a few more questions first.”  He’s quiet for a minute as all the viewers catch up with the stream.  “Here’s one: ‘Did you find out who was messaging you so much?’”  He pauses before answering.  “Funny you should ask, because yes, I did, and that’s a perfect segway into what I wanted to talk about.”  He shifts on his bed.  “I have a bit of an announcement -”

           His door opens behind him, and Baz in all his glory appears in it.

           Comments start flying in of “BAZ” and “OMG”

           “What are you doing?” Baz asks without a hint of a sneer in his voice.

           “Just filming a live show,” Simon tells him. He seems… nervous?

           “A live show, eh?”  Baz strolls over and – wonder of wonders – sits down on the bed next to Simon.  We’ve never seen him this close to the camera, and his eyes are this lovely mix of gray and green.

           We’ve also never seen him this close to Simon before.

           My heart kicks up a notch.  I’ve fallen down the slippery slope and now there’s no denying that I ship it completely.  I grab a pillow to hold to my chest and go into fangirl-mode, overanalysing every inch of their proximity.  With a click I maximize the screen, blocking the other comments from my view.  I want to see every pixel of this.

           “I was just going to make that little announcement,” Simon says, staring at his hands in his lap.

           “Ah,” Baz nods, apparently understanding.  “Go on, then.  Carry on, Simon.”

           Did he –

           Did he just call him Simon?

           He never calls him Simon!

           “I can’t do it if you’re here!” Simon protests.

           Baz gives a shrug.  “Then I’ll tell them.”

           He takes Simon by the collar and kisses him.  

           I scream into my pillow.

           Simon and Baz are kissing, right now, in front of millions of people.

           I can practically hear the collective aneurism that the fangirls are currently having.

           They’re still kissing, and Simon is grinning against Baz’s mouth.  It’s the most genuine smile he’s ever graced the internet with, and it’s not even for us.

           I’m tearing up, I’m so happy for them.

           Baz lets Simon go and turns to smirk at the camera. “That one’s for all you SnowBaz shippers out there.  Don’t think we don’t know.”  He winks. He fucking winks.

           And then he leaves.  

           Simon turns back to the camera, his cheeks red and his lips puffy.  He grins sheepishly.

           “Um, yeah,” he stammers, “that’s what I was gonna tell you about.”

           I tap the comment box.

           pennyforyourthoughts: Called it.

won’t be doing the prompts for the Carry On Countdown  cuz my ideas ain’t flowing but I GOT SOMETHING BETTER TO WRAP IT OFF <3

it was fun drawing simon and baz a lot and i would definitely draw them more in the future! :D

Carry On except crucial parts of the story have been replaced with popular song lyrics - snowbaz

i mean they asked for crack. carry on countdown day (?????????). speakin of crack i found out that my school choir sang Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap and i m cryin y’all wtf


Will ruin Carry On for you

Mm. Whatcha say indeed.

Baz comes back to Watford:

I look up at the sound of booming, well-pitched thuds, blasting through the doors to the Great Hall.

“Hello,” Baz announces, soulful. “It’s me.”

- - -

In the Pitch family library:

“No one is seducing a vampire.”

Baz snaps his glare to me. “WHY THE FUCK YOU LYIN’?!”

- - -

When bae comes back for you:

I open the door and see Simon, clad in dirt, as well as half of the countryside. My jaw drops as realisation descends on me.

My milkshake brought the boy to the yard.

- - -

Bae just set the forest on fire:

The forest is on fire, and Baz looks away from me. “Just leave - this isn’t for you.”

80’s synthesized drum-pad beats play out of the trees.

“Never gonna give you up,” I insist. “Never gonna let you down.”

“I fucking hate you.”

- - -

Simon realises his ambiguous sexuality:

The flames burn around us, Simon’s hands cupping my jaw as he stares at me. He looks so helpless, so determined to save me like the hero he is. So gorgeous.


Then he says: “I really, really, really, really, really, really, like you.”

“Romance is dead.”

- - -

The Mage dies:

The Mage goes limp under my touch, dread and guilt rotting through my body. I weep, mouth slack, but just tense enough to mumble out: “Mm…whatcha say…”

Baz frowns. “Snow, is this really the time-”

“That you only meant well…”

“Simon, seriously.”

“Well, of course you did-”

The Mage takes a deep, unpredicted breath, then says: “I came back to life because you need to stop.”

In good hands

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


The Veil has closed.

           But there’s so much unsaid.

           And I’ve found a crack.


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


           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.”


           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.


           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.


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.


           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.


           “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.”



           “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.”


           “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.



           “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.


           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.


The Veil has closed.

           I won’t be back.

           But you seem to be in good hands.


Time travel AU:) (my contribution to the @carryon-countdown)

Edit: oml just realized I forgot his tail sorry

~ Day 9 - Music ~

Plotting (Baz’s Theme)

So I tried to come up with a little theme with baz in mind and this is what happened… It’s more for the humorous side Baz and these are some of the times I had in mind when I thought about the song….

• When Baz stormed through those doors like the badass mother fudger he is (and the bass line would sorta be in sync with his footsteps as he strolled up to the doors and then the doors fling open once the main theme starts)

• Whenever Baz smirks and starts teasing Simon

• When Baz practically dies inside after seeing Simon on his rug (and simons like omg you’re wearing jeans)

• Whenever he yells at his sister for not knocking


• Also it kinda makes me think of Simon crawling through bushes and sneaking after Baz like ‘Penny, he’s plotting something. PLOTTING.’ Basically whenever Simon’s like 'He’s plotting.’.

Hence, I named Baz’s Theme 'Plotting’. (It’s legit stuck in my head now for Crowley’s sake)

There’s probs a few more scenes it’d fit but those were the top ones on my mind - HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!


A Pumpkin Mocha Feud breaks out on instagram.

Carry On Countdown day 2: Social Media

Close quarters

A fic about hide-and-seek for the Carry On Countdown


There are many places to hide in Watford.  Almost every corner is dark (spelled that way), there’s no shortage of secret passageways, and the halls can sometimes feel a lot like a maze, especially if you’ve been there a long time (it’s like Watford always has to feel new and unknown).

           So many places to hide, yet I can’t seem to find a single one.

           Rhys has reached seventy-five in his count to a hundred, and he’s spelled his voice so that everyone playing can hear him counting from anywhere in the castle (it won’t work outside the castle, but you’re cheating if you go out there anyway).  I’ve tried every spot I know of, but I guess I wasn’t the only one to know about them because they’re all taken by the time I get there.  Even the bottom step of the staircase – apparently Trixie knew you could pry the boards off pretty easily and climb in (also I’m thinking she can maybe shrink herself to fit into tight spaces because I barely fit in there when I was eleven).

           I hear Rhys get to eighty and I’m starting to panic a little.  Not behind the curtains in the entrance hall, they’re taken by a couple kids I don’t know very well.  (They know me, though.)  (Everyone does.)  Not in the secret wall opening behind the suit of armor (of course Gareth knows about it, he’s been more mischief than good since he got here).  Niall is doing a terrible job of concealing himself behind the armor on the other side of the hall (no secret opening behind that one unfortunately) and Keris has somehow managed to spell herself into the tapestry (she actually has quite a lot of power, it seems) and I can’t think of a single place to hide.

           I notice the door when Rhys hits ninety.  I don’t recognize it, which probably means it’s up to no good, but I’m out of options.  I run for the door and throw it open.

           I shouldn’t be surprised to find it occupied (I’m not really that surprised, to be honest), but I am stunned to see Baz.

           He looks stunned to see me, too, and not a little displeased.

           “No,” is all he says.

           Rhys is at ninety-five.  “There’s nowhere left,” I plead.

           “Not my problem.”

           It appears to be a closet, and it’s not huge, but there’s room for two.  “Sorry,” I mumble, and I squish in, pulling the door closed behind me.

           “You have got to be kidding me.”  It’s completely dark, but I don’t need to be able to see Baz’s face to know the exact expression he’ll be pulling right now. “I said no, Snow, are you deaf?”

           “Shh,” I hiss at him, and try to settle my heart for the wait.


There was no reason for me to go to this seventh year game night thing, apart from the fact that I knew Simon was going and the least I could do was sour the experience for him. I haven’t played hide-and-seek since I was a kid, and there’s a very small (and repressed) child in me somewhere that’s way too excited about hide-and-seek in a castle.  Simon’s been scowling at me from across whatever game we’ve been playing the whole evening (I haven’t even had to do anything), so overall it’s been a successful night.

           Now, though.  Now I’m in trouble.

           There is definitely not enough room for two in here.  Simon is pressed against my side, breathing far too loudly and I want to reach over and just shut his mouth with my hands (and then maybe kiss it).  “Stop it, Snow.”

           “Stop what, breathing?”

           It would make my job easier.  “He’ll hear you from a mile away.”

           “Can’t help it.”

           “Crowley, I swear I will wait until I hear him coming and then I am pushing you out of here so he finds you.”

           “He’d find you too,” Simon hisses back, “and if he doesn’t I’ll rat you out.”

           “Worth it.”

           He fidgets beside me and my hands are so deep in my pockets because there is no way he’s accidently brushing one of them in the dark.  No way.


On second thought, maybe there isn’t enough space in here for two people.

           I’m trying to breathe as quietly as possible. As much as I want to spite him and breathe as loud as I can to piss him off, I care about winning more.

           And anyway, probably not a good idea to piss off a vampire in such… close quarters.

           I shift sideways so we take up less space, but that was really a bad idea because now we’re face-to-face (not that we can see each other’s faces) and still way too close.  He smells exactly like his soap (trees, something citrusy) and it’s so dark that I’ve lost perception of space.  I only know that my chest is pretty much against his and I have to keep my head down to not be right in his face and this was a really bad idea.


I should toss him out of here right now, but I can’t move.

           Because I’m trapped in a closet with Simon Snow. Because it’s too tight in here to move. Because I’m paralysed.  Because I can’t even breathe without overthinking it right now.

           I wouldn’t even toss him out, I could just give myself up, forfeit the game. Anything to get out of this position.

           Because I hate being this close to him. Obviously.

           Because I can only handle small doses of him.

           Certainly not because I’m afraid he’ll hear my heartbeat (at this proximity it’s not unrealistic).




           “If you don’t get out in three seconds, I’m shouting for Rhys.”

           “I can’t, he’ll see me.”  Or someone else will see I’m with you.  I guess someone will eventually see anyway.




           “Don’t you dare.”


           I want to clap my hand over his mouth because he’s serious (I don’t even have to see his face to know he’s serious), but I can’t see a thing and I don’t know where he is exactly (apart from right in front of me) so I grab his head in both hands and pull his mouth down to mine.

           It shuts him up.


I was primed to shout. I had taken the deep breath and everything (loudly so Simon would hear).  There’s a vocal grenade in me and I’d pulled the pin.

           I was not ready to be silenced.

           Especially not like this.

           The shout dies in my throat with a pathetic muffled sound (I’d like to say it sounded indignant, I’m worried it sounded desperate) and I expect him to pull away in a second but he doesn’t.  He isn’t moving against me, just holding me to him like it’ll keep me quiet and well, it’s working.  

           I wonder if he even knows what he’s doing.


I don’t know what I’m doing.

           I mean, I know what I’m doing.  I just don’t know why.  Or how.

           But he hasn’t pushed me away.

           So I kiss him, properly now, like I would kiss Agatha.

           It’s only a second or two before he starts to respond.


Snow can shut me up like this anytime.

           He seems to have realized what he’s doing, or he’s come to terms with it or whatever’s going on in his head right now. At any rate, he’s doing this thing with his chin (pushing, retracting, pushing again) that’s threatening to get another sound out of me (probably a much more embarrassing one this time) and my hands find his hips and pull him closer, which he doesn’t seem to mind.  

           I wonder if this is how he kisses Agatha.


Scratch that. This is nothing like kissing Agatha.

           Agatha kisses quick and sweet, fleeting.  She kisses like in a movie, planned-out and over after the correct number of seconds.

           Baz kisses me like he’s drinking from me (which I’m hoping he isn’t, though I don’t feel any fangs).  He kisses me like there’s something unsaid, like there’s no other way to say it.  Like he actually wants it, like his head is spinning as much as mine is (I don’t get dizzy with Agatha), like he knows that his hands on my hips are doing something to me.  His mouth is cold, but that doesn’t stop it from being downright wicked.

           Kissing Baz is nothing like kissing Agatha.

           Kissing Baz is better.


I could die kissing Simon Snow.

           His mouth is hot and downright wicked, and the walls of the closet are the only thing keeping me upright.  He’s pushing harder now, and my back is against whichever wall is behind me (side?  Back? Direction?  What?).  There’s another sound bubbling up in my throat and it’s getting to the point of me not caring how pathetic it is, especially because he’s sighing against my mouth and it sounds maybe a little like a moan and shit, I am never leaving this closet.

           Simon Snow is going to die kissing me.

           He pulls me (somehow) closer by the collar at the same exact moment that I hear the footsteps stop outside the door.

Carry On Countdown PROMPTS!

Today it’s October 25th; so it’s exactly 1 month before the Carry On Countdown of 2017 starts. This means it’s time to reveal the 30 daily prompts!

For every single day from November 25th until December 24th there’s a prompt to count down to the day Snowbaz became canon. (AKA the Snowbaz anniversary AKA chapter 61). The idea is to post content relating to the daily prompt on that day. 

The prompts are given out a month early so you have more time to prepare your fics/fan art/memes/edits/anything for each day. Of course you don’t have to post something for each single day! You can even only participate in one of the days. However this year we will do something special for the people who manage to post something for every single day (if there will be people actually succeeding to do that).
At the end of the Carry On Countdown we will make a Page Of Honour on this blog, where we will honour the people who’ve managed to post something for every single day. (More info on this at the end of the event thought!)

Anyways, time for me to stop rambling. Here are the prompts:

Day 1, NOV 25: At Watford
Day 2, NOV 26: Social Media
Day 3, NOV 27: Time Travel AU
Day 4, NOV 28: Rainy day
Day 5, NOV 29: One word prompt: Dreams
Day 6, NOV 30: Angst day
Day 7, DEC 1: Your favourite trope
Day 8, DEC 2: Hogwarts AU
Day 9, DEC 3: One word prompt: Flowers
Day 10, DEC 4: Song inspired
Day 11, DEC 5: Catching a cold
Day 12, DEC 6: Side characters
Day 13, DEC 7: Domestic day
Day 14, DEC 8 Disney/ Fairytale retelling
Day 15, DEC 9: Pets / animals
Day 16, DEC 10: Crossover day (carry on crossover with another fave fandom of yours)
Day 17, DEC 11: WLW (women love women)
Day 18, DEC 12: Stuck in a … (lift, library, classroom, anything) together
Day 19, DEC 13: Late nights / early mornings
Day 20, DEC 14: On a trip and/or adventure
Day 21, DEC 15: Royalty AU
Day 22, DEC 16: Opposite day
Day 23, DEC 17: Cooking/baking
Day 24, DEC 18: One word prompt: Stars
Day 25, DEC 19: Christmas Decorating
Day 26, DEC 20: One Word Prompt: Family
Day 27, DEC 21: Snowy day
Day 28, DEC 22: Letters to Santa / Christmas wish-list
Day 29, DEC 23: Christmas Presents
Day 30, DEC 24: One word prompt: Anniversaries

If you have any questions about what a prompt might mean or if you have questions about the event in general, feel 100% free to send an ask!
Also, if you don’t have inspiration for one (or more) of the prompts, but you still want to do as many days, you can definitely ask around for inspiration on what to do with a certain prompt.

We really hope that as many people possible will participate in this event. We’re excited to celebrate the Snowbaz anniversary with all of you by creating a lot of wonderful content for everyone to enjoy! We’re excited to see what you make of these prompts. Good luck everyone!