Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Max closed his YouTube Studio app, satisfied. His newest upload had scored a solid 6th place out of his last 10 videos when ranked by views and he was confident it’d rise up a couple more spots with time. This called for a celebration, he decided, inhaling deeply before blowing loudly through his bagpipes. A few passersby turned to look at him with faces ranging from curiosity to disgusted exhaustion. Some got closer to observe him, surprised by the peculiar instrument choice, while others, much more used to Max’s antics, sighed loudly and hurried their pace. It was unusual for Max to play at the same place this often, but he was a man on a mission.

Said mission had nothing to do with his current audience, the clients of the Half Foods supermarket across the street. If it were, it would have been much easier, as he was sure all the cashiers in it wanted to throttle him already. No, his objective was proving to be much more resilient.

Max had set up shop right directly in front of another shop’s window, which should’ve been enough to raise some complaints. The establishment, covered in velvety curtains and dim lights, was some sort of esoteric store. Card readings, magic crystals, restaurant recommendations, exorcisms, wheels and much more, read the sign proudly displayed up front. A whole load of bullshit, obviously. It absolutely could not continue, and Max was going to make sure it wouldn’t, with his thorough investigation and awesome youtuber abilities. In fact, this was going to be his big video essay debut, a definite instant hit. Max, of course, had failed to consider that the handful of people who were subscribed to him on YouTube did so to see him eat shit on the ground, not to watch a sloppy long-form video. But Max wasn’t very good with numbers anyway so it wouldn’t have stopped him.

“Ohoho, what a delight it is to have you here as always, Mr Bladder!”

There it was. The cheerful voice that followed Max even in his sleep. He turned around to find a 7ft tall man dressed in a stupid wizard costume. He was exiting the magic store while clapping, faintly, as if to not bother the neighbors. The neighbors, who were already bothered anyways because of all the bagpipe music. How considerate.

“It’s Blunder,” he corrected, with the frustration of someone who has this conversation near-daily. “Max Blunder.”

“Yes, of course, of course!” His elusive target smiled without a care in the world, in a way that indicated he was still not going to get Max’s name right any time soon. “And how can I help you today, Mr Boulder?” There it was.

Max squinted at him, furrowing his brow, scrutinizing the man.

He had not been able to find much information on him. The wizard was an enigma at best, and at worst, the most infuriating person Max had ever met. There were many different ways in which this guy could “help” him, but none of them were likely to happen. So, Max settled on staring at him as closely as he could.

And there was a lot to look at, and not just because of his frankly ridiculous height.

You’d think the most flashy thing about him would be the wizard costume that he always wore. And well, you wouldn’t exactly be wrong, he even had several of them, but it was not just that. He also had bright green eyes, and a scar that crossed over one of them, covering a decent portion of his face. He probably thought it made him mysterious or something. Lame. Max didn’t care for it. No, the thing that bothered Max the most was his beard. It was an off-white color, had a slightly synthetic look to it and, most importantly, didn't even match the thick, brown hair that flowed down his shoulders. Sure, he had a couple of greyish locks around his bangs but they weren't even the same shade. This man genuinely wore a fake beard every single day as part of his wizard persona. Having elaborate eccentric personas was the bread and butter of conmen of the magical variety, according to Max’s investigation, which may or may not have consisted of watching a few TV shows. They needed to put on an act to make themselves look more legit and impressive, and Max thought that was just pathetic. He made a mental note to emphasize so in his video essay.

“Take off that beard,” was what he settled on saying, still glaring holes into the man’s face.

“Take it off? Ohoho, don't be silly, Mr. Bolder!” The wizard dismissed him with a chuckle, but his hands instinctively flew up to his jawline, carefully brushing the part where the beard met the skin. “I couldn't possibly shave in the middle of the street!”

Max squinted his eyes even more. “Sure you can. Because it’s not a real beard.”

The man laughed heartily. Despite being allegedly a giggly old man, his face didn't even have laugh wrinkles.

“Oh, so that is what this is all about! I’ll have you know this beard has actually won many prizes and competitions! An often forgotten trial of the famous Mythreach tournament is none other than a contest for who has the finest beard! People travel from all over the world to participate, and it is a matter of much pride for both the bearded and the barbers!”

This was another thing about him that annoyed Max to no end. His tendency to go on eternal rants about things no one cared about in the slightest. Max was willing to bet there wasn’t even an ounce of truth behind them, given that, again, his beard was fake so obviously no decent barber would give him any prizes.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, one particular sound saved Max from his fate of 5-hours of beard monologue. His stomach grumbled.

“Oho, are you hungry, Mr. Bladder?” The wizard’s eyes twinkled. “May I treat you to some lunch? Restaurant recommendation is my specialty!” He proudly pointed at the sign beside his store.

Max weighed his options. On one hand, being in this guy’s company for an extended period of time sounded dreadful. On the other hand, he was indeed hungry. And he would need to observe him closely if he wanted to make any progress in his investigation. And maybe the man would take off the beard to eat. And, most importantly, food. Max would never turn down food.

“Alright, sure.”

Max ended up following the wizard to a nearby park. Following a random stranger whom you didn’t trust was not Max’s greatest show of self-preservation, but he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to food. At least it wasn’t very likely that he’d get murdered at a park on broad daylight.

“Is this your great lunch recommendation?” Max questioned.

“Be patient, you silly goose!” The wizard laughed, and then guided Max to a separate area, where a few food trucks were parked. “This is the place! Many don’t know about this, but on the second week of every month, this park holds a food truck congregation that-”

Max quickly tuned him out, scanning the menu. The specific truck he’d been led to seemingly offered a variety of sandwiches, each more greasy than the last. Just the way Max liked them.

“This truck in particular is interesting because of the bread they offer!” The wizard’s explanation kept going and going. “It’s similar to a baguette, though not quite, as it’s actually a variant that’s traditional further down south. The crust is not as thick, and it’s wider, with a nicely fluffy interior! My personal favorite is the potato omel-”

Max glanced towards the inside of the truck to find they were indeed displaying some loafs of bread that matched the description. “Cool. Then I’ll have one of these,” he said, pointing at a bacon-filled sandwich that was on the menu, ignoring whatever other recommendation he was being given.

“A wonderful choice, Mr Bladder! I’ll have one as well!” the wizard ammended, interrupting his own monologue at last.

As the owner got to cooking, Max drifted away to observe the nearby area. This place would be a good setting for his next video. He had noticed a set of stairs down a path that would be cool for recording some tricks. No one in their right mind should, however, attempt to do backflips on a staircase unless they wanted to get themselves killed or were a well-trained professional that would for sure not fail, which Max wasn't. Thankfully, this is a comedy story so he should be fine.

He was inspecting one of the benches when Mr Wizard came back holding two paper bags. “Your lunch is ready!” he called out, smiling. He seemed to always be smiling, Max noted.

They both sat on the bench and Max peeked inside the bag he’d been handed. The sandwich was indeed huge, filled with meat, some lettuce and tomato (for a healthy meal) and even a fried egg. This was sure to rank highly on Max’s books.

He pulled the sandwich out of the bag and took a big bite.

“This is amazing!” he exclaimed, but his mouth was full, so it came out a little muffled, with a couple of crumbs flying around.

“Haha, I’m glad you liked it!” The wizard smiled. “An interesting particularity of this sandwich is that although in other regions they also have a similarly named one, the ingredients are different. This is bec-”

“Spare me the spiel!” Max whined. “Are you going to let it get cold?”

“You do have a point there!” Max watched with bated breath as the wizard opened his paper bag, about to eat.

But, much to Max’s chagrin, he did not take off the beard to eat. There went his first lead. He was not going to let that deter him, though. He'd just have to create his own opportunities.

“Well,” he started up the conversation again. “What is your name?” He truly had not been able to find any information on the guy. The bar was very low.

“Why, of course, it’s Mr Wizard!” the man giggled, then had the audacity to wink at him.

Max stared at him with a deadpan expression. “No, it’s not.” He was not here to fool around.

“But it is!” Mr Wizard’s eyes twinkled brightly with amusement. He had to be messing with Max.

“Come on, be serious. I've told my name many times already!” And you still get it wrong, Max muttered to himself.

“I promise you that I am being as serious as I can be, Max!” Oh so he did know Max’s name after all. Which probably meant that he was, unfortunately, being truthful about his name situation.

“So that’s all I’m getting? No first name, no last name?” Max kept pushing, getting increasingly frustrated.

“It’s my last name of course!” Mr Wizard continued in a sing-song voice: “Mister Wizard!”

Max massaged his temples.

“Alright. If you’re not going to give me anything to go off, I’m just going to… throw names at the wall and see what sticks. So, Allen, do you really wear that every day?” He pointed at the garish wizard costume the man donned. The beard would be an issue for another day.

To be completely fair, he didn't always wear the exact same outfit. Max suspected he only owned wizard costumes. Today's had a long green tunic that completely covered up the rest of his clothes, and reached all the way down to his pointy shoes. Max wondered if it was custom-made or something, because the wizard was freakishly tall, but the fabric looked too low-quality to be tailored.

“Hoho, would you like to stick around and find out?” Wink.

“I already see you nearly every day, Jason,” Max deadpanned, unfazed.

That finally caught Mr Wizard off-guard. Even past the brim of the hat, the fake beard and the scar that adorned his face, Max saw his eyes widen, and if he focused enough, he’d notice a small blush spread across this cheeks.

The fluster barely lasted a moment though, and was soon replaced by a giddy giggle: “You're right! We do!” he repeated, more to himself than anything. “Can I expect to see you again tomorrow, then?” he asked, disgustingly hopeful.

Max himself wasn't much better, because he replied:

“Sure, sure.”

Much later, Max would realize that he hadn't paid for his own food at all.