#and simon's like idk what to tell you sis i can get it apparently

[attorneytrash]

Headcanons for how Aura and Nahyuta would interact? 👀👀👀👀👀

listen first of all i have this hc that since Aura is currently in jail she pesters Simon about his love life whenever he visits and he tells her the truth which is "I'm dating a literal royal from a foreign kingdom" and he'll bring in like. gossip magazines where there are paparazzi shots of him and Nahyuta and the whole time Aura just thinks he's pulling the most elaborate prank on her. and then when she actually meets Nahyuta she’s like listen friend. how much is he paying you to do this because i’ll double it if you tell me where he’s getting these magazines printed they’re so realistic

[chadchady]

Yknow, if there’s anyone to blame for this it’s Embry ( @embry-garrick ), not me, he suggested it. Pulled out my big boy words for this

Alpha Gaz, Soap, M!reader. TRANS Omega ghost

CW: double penetration, P in V x 2, omegaverse, trans Simon FTM, dabble short shitty

3.5k characters

600 words

It's been an incredibly challenging week for Simon. He has been buried in paperwork for hours on end, battling a dreadful cold, and experiencing that all-too-familiar sensation of unbearable warmth spreading over his skin, leaving him constantly drenched in sweat. When Simon woke up on Saturday morning, it came as no surprise to him that his thighs were slick and his underwear was completely soaked.

He knew his heat had been creeping up for a while now, though he never anticipated its arrival. Forcing himself out of bed, he sluggishly walked over to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of his disheveled appearance in the mirror. Ew. That’s unappealing. Hell if he cared, which he didn’t. He couldn’t just skip work cause of some measly desperation. So back to his office… his confined space… basically prison with the heat of his own body, the slicked boxers making sitting uncomfortable and the scent of his alpha teammates walking past.

The situation went from bad to worse when his teammates, Kyle, Johnny, and you, all alphas who could probably smell his arousal from three miles away, entered his office in search of him.

"Is there something wrong, Ghost?" Gaz inquires with concern, casting a worried glance at the disheveled and perspiring figure of their lieutenant. Despite his apparent distress, Soap wears a small, knowing grin on his face.

“Nope…” he grumbles, obviously lying for results to be in his favor. He suppresses a whine growing in his throat, inconspicuously rubbing his thighs together in desperation, a need for relief overcoming any sense of decency. Hopefully nobody has noticed the quiet crinkling of his uniformed pants.

“Come on Si, we’re not that oblivious, just tell us what’s wrong? We can surely help” Soap smiles, he knows, everybody knows, Simon knows he’s leaving a potent smell everywhere he’s walked all morning. A collective chuckle from the three men snaps Simon out of his thoughts. He realizes why when he hears himself.

Hghnnn mmmm- he stops himself

He was fucking moaning and whimpering and grinding against his own office chair. He’d gone and extra exposed his heat and desperation to his teammates. His cheeks grew red and hot fast, more from embarrassment than knowing he just got slicker at the thought of those Alphas knowing…

Getting lost in his thoughts once more and getting interrupted again. His swiveled chair had been moved from behind his desk to infront. His eyes meeting the hungry gazes of those animals, he follows their gaze down, seeing that he’d leaked so much slick there was a damn stain on his pants…

(Idk how to write sex erm, this quite predicament)

“Ghost, you don’t seem okay to me” you chuckle, half teasing, half concerned and maybe a little aroused. It wasn’t your first time seeing Simon like this. You were his go to during heats, and he was yours during your ruts. Despite your own teasing, you felt a burning desire in your stomach. And with a quick glance over at your accomplices whose pants have seemed to miraculously tightened.

Simon didn’t know how fast it happened, his mind had been dazed, a fog of desperation stopping all coherent thoughts from forming. Somehow, someway, he’d agreed to take all three of them. And he didn’t realize until he was laying down on his bed. One of his mates behind him, one under him and one In front. Through his daze, he could hear Kyle and Johnny fighting over his sopping wet hole…

As a running theme here, his thoughts interrupted again by an involuntary cry out as both Kyle and Johnny slip into his hole and your cock hanging above his face, slipping into his mouth whenever he moaned…

ERMMMMM I DONT WANNA FINISH IT! SO J WONT

Also for those who don’t know, I was recently in a car crash that affected my health. Not too badly but enough to discourage me from doing a lot of stuff. I’ve been getting better, I have so many drafts I will be finishing. I apologize for my inactivity and lack of posts.

[simonalkenmayeris-still-dead]

CC1 - The Myth

OR why am I subjecting myself to this nonsense?

As I have mentioned, a friend of mine began reading The Book, and sent me some choice excerpts.  I became intrigued.  Not because it’s good, it actually seems pretty creepy, but because I think Si accidentally wrote a paranormal romance.

So before we even start the book, there’s a disclaimer. IDK if it was in the original book.  It begins “Dearest Gentle Reader,” which is not a great start if I’m the one reading because I hate that sort of affectation in writing.  

Like, if someone writes “dear readers” in a fanfic, it has to be really good for me to continue reading.

This disclaimer is basically saying that although 2012 was such a long time ago, and Simon was an ignorant fool when he wrote this, he can’t be bothered actually editing it properly, so please forgive him ahead of time if he did something wrong.

If you ever find yourself writing something like this, you need an editor.

Just so you know, nothing happens in this chapter.  It’s supposed to be an introduction to Simon and how he’s a monster, but you do NOT need a whole chapter for that.

Simon also really needs an editor.  There are multiple sentences in this chapter that lack correct sentence structure.  

For example, in the first paragraph we have this “Yes, I eat people, though the correct term is anthropophage”.  For this sentence to make sense, anthropophage would need to mean “eating people”, as in the act of eating people, it would need to be a verb.  So, when I google this, which Simon tells you to do, I get this result

An anthropophage or anthropophagus was a member of a mythical race of cannibals

So anthropophage doesn’t refer to the act of eating people.  It’s a noun.  It refers to not just cannibals (which Simon maintains he isn’t) but a specific race of cannibals.  

That sentence makes no sense.  And there are plenty of similar sentence constructions throughout this chapter.  I’m not going to point out all of them, except where they affect the narrative, because we’d be here all day.

After Simon begins his “succinct” first paragraph, in which he repeats himself four times, he decides to open with how we must be feeling.

As many of you may know by now, I am not a fan of being told how I must feel, whether that is to my face, in a blog post, or in a book, so he’s losing me.

I also really hate Simon’s “voice”, because it’s really inconsistent.  He veers wildly between what I assume the author thinks is some sort of period affectation, and modern English, when he could have chosen one.  

This is partly because the person writing doesn’t have a style, and partly because they haven’t had their work edited.  And because Simon doesn’t research.  The best way to mimic a style of writing from a certain period is to read things from that period. You can’t just shove words like “one” or “quaint” into your writing and expect it to sound authentic.

Anyway, Simon’s long and belaboured point, is that everything we think we know about monsters is wrong.  He spends another 3 paragraphs reiterating this and then passes up the opportunity to use the phrase “you may not believe in us, but we believe in you.”  This is a good phrase, human minds like repetition.  Instead we got “you may not be afraid of us, but we are still here.”

Disappointing.

Then we have some maths and may I just say, if maths is not your strong suit, do not try to put it in your book.

Simon has heard that up to fifty thousand people go missing every year.  He doesn’t know that, he’s just heard it, so from the outset, he’s not even using facts.

For some reason, he thinks missing people must either be murdered or assume a new identity. Those are the only two options he has.

In reality, a huge number of missing persons are not exactly missing, they’re people escaping abuse situations, and they get reported missing by their abuser.  Those people aren’t assuming a new identity or dead.

Simon also thinks all humans dump corpses in national forests.  I don’t know why he thinks this.  I expect there’s a lot of cleanup after dumping someone in a park.  Would it really be worth your while to drive all that way when there’s probably somewhere closer in a city where you could get the job done?  This is what cement boots are for, right?  I also don’t think murderers go to all that trouble of dumping a body just to leave it out in the open like that.  They’re going to at least dig a grave.

It’s also apparently unfeasible that anyone could adopt a new identity without a single hitch.  But you don’t actually have to adopt a new identity seamlessly to “go missing”.  The going missing part is just where you drop your old identity.  Hitches in adopting a new one are a separate issue.

Or maybe I’m just sensitive to this because I’m trans.

And then, in explaining why he isn’t going to claim his species is completely responsible for all missing people… Simon cites two things that do not cause people to go missing as examples for humanity’s awesome cruelty.

Awesome?  Not awful?  Okay then.

I understand that he’s trying to make a point, the theme of the book is obviously “humans are more monstrous than a real monster”, but the point loses something if you make it with a stupid example.

Oh and then we come to my favourite part of this chapter.

It is an experiment. A point. An argument for the furthering of knowledge. Mixed with a little boredom, if I am honest. You are a test subject. By reading this, you give consent to tell me what I need to know.

An experiment isn’t supposed to be making a point, Simon.  That’s not what experiments do.  Also, what is that last sentence?  Is he a mind reader now?  

I think Simon may be a little fixated on the “by <performing act> you give consent” concept.  But if you are telling someone something, you’ve presumably given consent.  The act of communicating with someone actually implies more consent than reading a book.

Now I’m gonna skip down to the part where he decides I don’t believe him.  I hope this telling me what I think isn’t going to continue all through the book because I’m not sure I can handle it.

Also, Simon really wishes this book had ended up on CW network. I know this because he says how disappointed he would be if that happened.  I personally wouldn’t write anything about the possibility of my book being adapted for screen in the book itself.  It kind of sounds like you think it’s your due when it’s really not.  Or like the only reason you wrote the book was to get rich off it.

There is one notable part of this chapter, and it’s this

If you are hoping to hear my account of slavery, you should know that I was fixated upon the flavors of meat raised in the terroir of Virginian tobacco plantations, and didn’t even notice the skin color of any given human.

We all know how Simon would excuse this, he’d say it’s not his fault he’s a monster blah blah blah.  But honestly, this is racist.  Even setting skin colour aside, is he trying to tell us he didn’t notice some humans were being treated as chattel?  I would think that’s something he would need to keep abreast of, considering he says he targets his food according to whether they’d be missed.

He also says his purpose isn’t to rewrite our past, which gives a great indication of what he thinks the past is (all the big events you learn about in primary school, no society and culture).  But that’s exactly what he wants to do.

Skipping down some more, over the part where he says if I find him funny, to consider he may not be kidding – it’s okay Simon, I’m laughing at you, not with you – and the part about diaries being a proper pursuit.  Even past the insult about mentally ill people.

BECAUSE THEN WE GET

“harangue me about being a second-rate author; but please be polite.”

Does Simon know what harangue means?  It means a tirade.  It’s not polite.

Another paragraph about how we shouldn’t care about his feelings because he doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks.  And this next bit.

“You are encouraged to embrace this tale however you see fit, communicate with its author any way you can”

Except, apparently, from creating a tumblr blog, that is very wrong.

And that’s it!  Literally nothing happened.  Hopefully things get more exciting in Chapter 2.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

01. It Became a Thing

AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends. Few things: I started the story at age 10, but will not stay there long, because I don’t necessarily want to write the length of their traumas, but I did want to at least kick off with that time period. This is being written before the season ends, so no, not canon outside of the train thing, because idk all their business like that.

2410 words and here we go...

He was pretty sure that it was fate that brought him here or something very similar, yet scientific. He didn't really believe in fate. If it was real he hated the fact that his life was meant to be this way.

This way being alone, often attacked for being a little different. None of them seem to know nor care that he was only different because he didn't really have anyone to show him there was another way to be. So, he was just the way that felt comfortable. He thought it was fine! It was fine to be the smartest kid in class, even if focusing on things made him irritated, because they weren’t the things he WANTED to focus on. He thought it was fine rambling on about books he’s writing at the age of 10. He thought it was fine, building little figures, not good expensive ones like his dad had, but like... affordable ones that didn’t work as well and made him work hard for the final product. He thought he was fine.They didn't.

Simon wasn't really in the mood to be beat up today so, he ran, and it was the most his body had ever done. The boy pushed it to the limits. He didn't know where he was going, but he was growing tired, saw a door and he went through it. He rushed into what he later realized was a school not his school, but some other school. Some fancy place. He decided not to run into the bathroom they might check there.

He kept running and running. He turned the corner and down a hallway and he heard the door open behind him. He heard their feet coming! They were following and probably would catch up! He rushed into the first next door that he saw, and that's where he met her.

She was on stage and she was dancing. He looked out of the window and saw his bullies run past the door he ducked crouched and scurried towards a seat in, what he now realized, was some type of auditorium. He'd just wait it out. His bullies would tire of searching for him and go. Maybe they'd catch him tomorrow, maybe not. But, he determined that he was not leaving the seat unless they came in...

She was wonderful. a nice distraction from his current predicament. Her limbs were elegant in their fluid movements and she danced with fierce concentration and sharpened skill. Her hair was pulled up into a bun and the skirt she wore flowed as she moved, but showed her perfect legs. Her skin was amazing too. She was... too pretty for words. He was so mesmerized, he didn't watch the door, so he didn't see when his bullies peeked in the window and noticed him slouching in a seat.

They opened the door, trying to sneak in, but, it was 4 of them. Not as stealthy as one dude in a hoodie, so she noticed them, first.

"Hey! You can't be in here!" she fussed and came storming towards the door. "This is a closed rehearsal!" She had a deeper voice than anyone expected, her being a small, though slightly tall little girl and as she made her way towards them, even though they realized that she was even smaller than he was, there was something about her that startled them.

One of them lied, "We're sorry, Little Cutie, just collecting our friend here."

Now, she noticed him. She looked at him, searching the room, looking desperately for an escape, and she knew - these weren't his friends. She may not have had any friends herself, but she had seen them before. On websites and stuff. They didn't look scared of each other. And she KNEW looking scared. She was often scared. Scared of her thoughts when she was alone, scared of the fact that she was always alone... she looked at the speaker and said, "He's with me."

The boys laughed and she went over to the blond boy and gave him a hug, "Play along," she whispered. Like she had to say that. "I’m finishing rehearsal and he’s my friend, coming to support me as I practice a very hard number."

They didn't buy it. There was no way Sci Fi Si could ever even be FRIENDS with a pretty rich girl, much less... But, she looked to be retrieving a cellphone and they didn't know the penalty for being in this school, so, they left.

She walked behind them and locked the door, just in case. "Thanks. You just saved my life." He said. She frowned at him and his smile faded.

"Are those goons gonna wait around until Midnight?"

"No. They'll just harass and/or beat me up tomorrow." He said, then looked at the ground and muttered, "I'd better bring a change of clothes." When he looked back up, she was staring at him with some confusion. "Sometimes it gets messy." Her eyes widened, but she didn't say anything. She was still just staring at him. He felt like... judging him... he didn't like it.

"How long were you in here?" she asked.

He imitated the music with his mouth, because it was all he could recall of when he sat down. He hadn't checked the time and he didn't know how long he was there or any of the stuff that he saw her do to describe it... She laughed and covered her face with both hands, "Soooo.. you saw some of my worse work. Great."

"That was your worse? It was amazing!"

"What do you know about dance?"

"Nothing but-"

"So, that's what your critique means to me. Nothing." She gave him a fake smile. he looked hurt and she hadn't meant to wound the guy, but... she didn't like for people to see her when she wasn't at her best and this guy HAD. She laughed and touched his arm, "Don't be so dramatic. Technically... it's true. It’s not an insult. You don't know anything about dance, you said so yourself. So, how could you know that I missed steps or didn't nail two moves? I was just being honest... not mean."

He blushed, looked at her hand on his hoodie and too soon, she withdrew it. "Anyway, they're probably gone and I need to get my routine flawless, so.." she unlocked the door and kicked it open, smiling at him.

"Thanks again, ummm...?"

She narrowed her eyes, confused at his weird inflection of voice, but questionably responded, "You're welcome?"

"Simon," He answered the wrong question, but gave her the answer to his anyway. She didn't realize that he was waiting on her name. She didn't know if she should share it. But, he seemed nice enough. He was wearing socks and sandals and they were worn, like he’d been in them for a while, but - he was still waiting.

"Grace Mon..." Usually, she'd say, "Grace Monroe, of the Monroe Square Monroes." But... that would be saying too much in this case.He was a kid, around her age, but he was still a stranger and could’ve had some kind of scheme going with an adult waiting nearby..

"Goodnight Gracemon," he said, genuinely and walked out. She watched him go down the hallway and turn the corner, then she chased him.

"Hey!" he turned, surprised.

"Umm... I should walk you out. At least to be sure those guys aren't outside waiting..."

If it were someone else, someone less pretty, who didn't magically smell nice, even with that undertone of sweat, he'd have asked, "What are you gonna do? Ballet them away?* but, Gracemon had been kind when he needed a save and also, she was checking on him? His mom didn't even check on him...

"And it's just Grace." she laughed awkwardly and she opened the door of the school and glanced around, "Coast looks clear. If... they're after you tomorrow... come straight in. I'll be here."

"Are you almost done?" he asked.

Now, she erupted into a fit of laughter and held her belly. Whenever she caught her breath, she just said, "No. Nowhere near. See you around." she vanished into the building and Simon looked around. It was dark. But... this is a nice neighborhood and she seems used to this... Still... it seemed wrong to leave her. Then again, he had no idea when she'd finish, she probably had a ride, AND, he needed to immediately get started on her character for his novel. Some type of stunning princess or something. Reluctantly, he headed home, with his mind full of a girl he'd just met. He had no idea how much that was gonna become part of his life. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he saw a train station. He’d never been on one by himself before, though...

Whenever he went to the booth to ask questions, he’d missed it, but there were maps, so he looked at one and figured out the way he needed to go to get home. 

Some time later whenever he came running inside, he immediately went into his parents’ room, breathing heavy and said, “Mom! I’m sorry I’m late. I ended up on the other side of town and I missed the train coming back...”

The woman took a deep breath, shut her book and looked at him. “Simon. Did you knock before you came in here?” She asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Aren’t you supposed to?” She asked.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yet, you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll go now... Enjoy your book, Mom.” She watched him leave and opened her book again. He shut the door behind him and went into the kitchen. Nothing was prepared. He looked into the fridge and saw that they were apparently out of all of the casseroles that the neighbors had brought by. He pulled out a few items, sure that he could make something work with them, but... not really... He might need some help.

His father was in the garage, working on a model train. There were several photos of his little sister, hung up at his father’s work center. “Dad? Are you hungry?” he asked.

Unlike his mother, his father didn’t even glance up at him, though his tone was nice enough, “No, I’ll be fine. You can eat without me.” Simon didn’t know how to tell him that wasn’t why he asked. So, he went back into the kitchen and LUCKILY realized that there was cereal. He could do cereal! Even his sister could do cereal and she had only been... 4. Both of his parents were taking it really hard. He didn’t want to resent them or feel like they loved her more. She was gone and that was obviously painful... But he was still there... And neither of them had cared since they lost her. 

There was no peace. Not at home with these two adults that had given up on him. Not at school with those bullies. He didn’t have anywhere that he could escape. So, he threw himself into fantasy stories, and he was content to live there, if he could have. The only other place that might be better was that auditorium, across town, with the pretty ballerina... that reminded him, he had some drawing to do!

.

Whenever Grace returned to the auditorium, her instructor was there, waiting, stern faced. “Have you been practicing while I ran my errand, Grace?”

“Yes! Yes, I have.”

“Well, let’s see it, then,” the woman gestured towards the stage and Grace rushed to perform her presentation. She felt when she made the same mistakes that she had mentioned earlier to that kid, and although she kept going, it made her chest feel extremely tight to know that she messed up. At the end, the teacher sighed and suggested, “Perhaps I shouldn’t leave you for even a moment. Where were you when I came in?”

“I was walking a kid outside who had stumbled in here, running from bullies,” Grace said, cheerfully.

“Grace... What did your parents say about trying to talk your way out of hard work?”

“It really happened. Just check your footage,” Grace pointed towards the camera. 

“Very well. At any rate, from the top...”

The driver met Grace outside and she was fortunate that she didn’t have to go to school at a crowded school, because after practice, she was always so tired and her body was sore and her feet throbbed. But, not being in a school also meant not seeing other kids. And even coming to this auditorium to practice her part for a dance recital - which her parents insisted she had down pat before ever even meeting the other girls - was such a break from her typical lifestyle. She’d convinced them that she needed to practice on the stage that she would be performing on first, and even had to admit that she didn’t feel confident about dancing with other girls and that she was scared. Her parents hated that word. They translated it to laziness. They translated everything to laziness. She wasn’t “tired,” she was lazy. She wasn’t “sick.” She was lazy...

Just thinking about it made her want to get out of the car one day at a stoplight, run away and never come back. But, where would she even go? She was stuck here. This was her life. She had a recital next week with a bunch of strangers and the most that she had talked to another kid in she couldn’t even remember how long had been a fluke. She wondered if he made it home okay, though. Simon. He seemed like a really nice kid. She wanted to protect him. Wanted to get those bullies to stay away from him. She laughed a little bit, creating these scenarios of how she might rush in and save this kid and then she might have a friend! 

She sighed. Daydreaming was lazy, and she was pretty sure that she was never gonna see that kid again.

Until of course, she did. The next day. She noticed him enter this time, and she smiled brightly, but continued dancing as her instructor counted off counts. That was her best practice yet! And, her instructor even agreed that Simon could stay, as long as it didn’t distract her. Whenever she left, she took him with her and had the car bring him home. It... became a thing. She... made a friend.

Next

[early-sxnsets]

Drunk Text

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43179500

Chapter 4/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 2002

Chapter Summary: Baz's friends get him a little drunk, which scares Simon half to death. Cue nervous spamming, best friend's advice, and a single picture.

BAZ

(strings_n_roses): gods.mistake: i dont know i guess im just scared of losing her family's attention???

My eyes scan over his text in the drop down, thumb pressing onto the screen to keep it half-showing. It's probably not a good idea to be talking to him about this right at this second, but I don't want him to feel abandoned (especially given our topic). The tiny graphic of the Instagram logo looms in the forefront of my mind even after I close my phone, thinking of a response.

A hard lemonade bottle rolls and rests against my thigh, making me look up at Dev as he pops open another. Despite calling them a “Gay drink”, he's already gone through two of them.

“Oy, you've barely had shit,” he says, twisting off the top of his third as he eyes my one half-empty bottle.

“Yeah,” Niall adds, eyebrows narrowing as he lifts his own drink. He bought an even shittier wine cooler. “Loosen up a little, you wound up dick.”

Reluctantly, I bring my bottle to my lips and swing, maintaining eye constant with Niall. Even with a weird shiver in a response, he doesn't look away. Neither do I--not until the bottle is finished. With a pop of my lips, I lower the glass and smirk. “There--happy?”

“I… guess?” He says slowly. “You okay, mate? What's wrong?”

What's wrong? What's wrong? Snow's texting me from his bathroom, too tired from crying to get off the tile, and I can't help him in any other way than to talk to him. That's what's wrong. “It's nothing. Just shit. That's all.”

Dev's foot nudges mine, making me disconcerted with their mutual care for my emotions. Usually, they just let me sulk, but tonight… tonight's odd. They're boozing me up and getting me to talk (for once).

I turn my head head away, looking towards the long, creaking window of mine. It nearly brushes the floor, and looks out upon the broad, rise and fall of our garden. The winter season leaves it beyond chilling.

“Can you open that?” I ask, voice tired as I nod towards my cousin. He blinks at me at first before rising to his feet and drawing it open. With a hand on my bed frame, I haul myself upright and onto my feet before digging through my nightstand. In the back lies a pack of cigs and a lighter I snagged from Aunt Fi's flat.

Only Dev takes one when I offer, seating myself right on the ledge. Neither of them bat an eye, except Niall's concerned staring as I lean against the frame, striking the light.

“Fine, don't answer,” he mumbles, taking back a mouthful of his drink.

I let in a drag, feeling it burn the back of my throat as I slide out my phone. Both the boys sit silently, exchanging glances as I finally type back a semi-coherent response for Simon.

The already buzzing of my head from the nicotine doesn't fully help my thoughts as much as I hoped it would.

strings_n_roses: christmas is over now, so the holidays are gone. if she weighs heavily on you because of the break up, then it isn't healthy and definitely not a pain that you deserve

strings_n_roses: and i know she drives you home, but maybe someone on your team will drive you instead if you ask

strings_n_roses: there's options other than discomfort

I suck in, turning off my phone with the app left open. The sound of Niall's shifting is nearly enough to make me want to yell. Their collective concern is barely appreciated, given it seems to be so sparse when actually needed.

In all honesty, I shouldn't blame them. I'm not in school, and they're just trying to help when they can. still, I can't shake the emptiness of their situational devotion to my feelings.

“You've been acting odd,” Dev adds first, giving me another drink. I take it, finishing my cig first. Looking at the burning end of it, I hand it out the window and crush it against the stone of the wall, leaving the butt on the sill as I climb off.

The drink is always better when you start the second one. “Just life shit. Doesn't matter,” I say, leaning back against the wall as I exhale slowly. There it is. The odd, mostly empty stomach nausea I get whenever I get to drink. Hits me harder, and makes it stronger. And almost definitely going to fuck me over, but it's only a few drinks (and I'm a lightweight, because fuck genetics).

As my eyes fall shut, I feel the jostling buzz of my notifications. Without hesitation, I pick it up and read it through as more messages slide down.

(strings_n_roses): gods.mistake: i dont really have friends on the team to drive me

(strings_n_roses): gods.mistake: or really anyone, except penny and sort of agatha, i guess

(strings_n_roses): gods.mistake: and her dad. her dad loves me

(strings_n_roses): gods.mistake: fuck im a little lonely fucker sorry im a killjoy and you're probably doing something more interesting with your life and im just ranting like an idiot fuck sorry

I ignore both Dev and Niall's looks as I attentively swipe it open, head spinning. I barely pay attention to what I'm saying, trying to get a word in before he has a chance to belittle himself further.

strings_n_roses: don't apologise at all. im heer to yell towards

strings_n_roses: after all im judt drinking im not ewally doingmuch

SIMON

My heart nearly stops, throat catching as I reread.

He's drinking. Fuck.

Vision blurring and body weak, the process of pulling myself upright makes it a battle all in itself.

The bathroom floor is filthy, but it felt like home. One minute I was standing, washing my hands silently in the sink, then I met my eyes in the mirror and crumpled onto the old, ratty bathmat. I'd just cried, a quiet sob into my wrist as the details of the room overwhelmed me. The dripping of the sink, the burning of the lights. The fear of losing Penny because I've practically lost Agatha already.

I don't even know if I miss her. I don't know if I want to miss her. I miss her family at Christmas--this was the first year since moving here without me going to the Wellbeloves for the holidays. I know I miss the way we'd sit together in silence, shoulder to shoulder and watching Doctor Who, but I don't know if I miss us.

She'd told me today that I'm too much. It's been months since the break up, but she said she still had something to say. That something, apparently, is that my life's unnecessary overwhelming, and I don't make her happy.

I told her likewise to me, even if I didn't mean it.

Maybe I did. I don't know.

I don't know anything.

I don't know why Baz is drinking. He'd told me a month or so back that he does occasionally, but he usually refrains from drunk texting. Says he doesn't like waking up to messages he didn't mean to send. I wonder what's different tonight.

I wipe my eyes, sniffling as quietly as possible as my trembling fingers tap out a response.

gods.mistake: please drink water

gods.mistake: and limit yourself. dont drink too much fuck just slow down

gods.mistake: did you eat? make sure youre eating

gods.mistake: please dont do anything stupid just please dont hurt yourself

At first, he's silent. The read receipt pops up, then stays still. Something in me thumps, then grows in strength as I struggle to breathe evenly again.

I've seen it too often. Too fast--too soon. The spiraling, the life destruction. The kids a few years older than me stashing stolen pill bottles under beds and liquor in their pillow cases.

I don't want him to hurt like that, and I can feel it already. The biting edge of coping.

My hand slides through my hair, settling amongst tangled curls as I shake. A disappearing picture from him pops up, starling me slight before I exhale, opening it.

It's his hand, the flash on it as he holds a pint sized glass of water. I can recognize it from his pictures of violin playing, scattered throughout his damned aesthetic Instagram account. It's the only part of his body I can recognize, and I know it well. Smooth on the back, and calloused fingertips with sharp jutting angles of his joins. His skin is a midtone of soft brown, like the shade of a perfect cup of tea, and his palm fades much lighter. You can tell he's some posh arse, because his nails are always trimmed and buffed.

And there they are, holding a glass of water with a crudely drawn smiley face on the screen. The room is mostly dark around it, and I can only make out hardwood floor and a thick, red carpet.

(gods.mistake): strings_n_roses: i'm okay i promise! i'm a healthy boy

(gods.mistake): strings_n_roses: :)

(gods.mistake) strings_n_roses: i’m with friends rhey’re takint xare of me i promise i an ok!

gods.mistake: ok ok im sorry for freaking out im sorry

I chew on my nail, biting around to the cuticles as my eyes squeeze shut. I'm overreacting again. I'm blowing up.

I tap out of the app and pull of my messaging, pulling my one of few conversations--Penny.

im losing it right now penn

its so stupid and youre gonna hate me but im losing it fuck me fuck shit fuck fuck fuck

You've texted your last fuck, buddy

It's the swearing police

I've come to ask for a recount of why on Earth you're sobbing

its stupid its so stupid im sorry

its baz hes drinking

and i panicked and messaged him a ton but im worried i pissed him off and he might hate me what if he hates me

fuck shit fuck

Do you have any basis on him hating you???

Did he text you all angry???

no but i feel it im stupid and i know it i feel it

First of all, stop

Second of all, if he's not angry, he's not angry

Third, why does this matter so much? You barely know him

thats not true we talk everyday

He's online, Si

You can lose him in a snap, why care?

Why do you even trust him so much you don't know what he looks like ://

i know what his hands look like

thats something

and just idk i trust him he seems to care

and we like the same stuff and i just

idk

i trust him

why are you talking about this again now

i thought we were over this

I said I was tired of you talking about Baz at lunch, I didn't say we were over the conversation

I'm just worried, that's all

Fuck knows you don't have someone else to worry about you over this, and he could just be some arse praying on you because you're vulnerable

People do that, you know

hes not some 80 year old creep penn

he seems as young as he says

and he doesnt use me or anything we just talk

im ok im safe i swear

hes just scaring me

Just be safe, Simon.

Something makes me jump, and it takes a full moment to register that it's Davy knocking around downstairs, doing whatever he does in his study. I should be in bed. He knows I should be in bed. He'll want me to be asleep, after all.

I tiptoe out carefully, knowing where the floor doesn't creak as I slip back into my room and in bed. The blanket's shit and scratchy, but it's something.

As I plug my mobile in, I send out a quick message to Baz, letting my embarrassment ease through while I swallow my pride.

gods.mistake: im sorry for freaking out

gods.mistake: sleep tight pls

[jcmorgenstern]

3x12 “review” (aka whining)

Okay so 3x12! First the things I liked, so this doesn’t come off as a gigantic whining list of things I hated. (I feel kind of bad I didn’t do a 3x11 review because I actually really liked that one, but I guess I have more motivation to whine than anything else).

readmore for length and sanity.

So things I liked:

Luke and Jace interaction! Though the pacing was absolutely insane and I absolutely refuse to believe that the Clave has the infrastructure in place to take detailed barometric readings in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE SIBERIA, so detailed that Jace can easily pinpoint exactly where the apartment was. Like I wouldn’t believe they have that kind of detail in rural Iowa, let alone a place that’s colder than balls.

That last point was all whining.The Morgenstern sword!! Y’all have NO idea how long I spent being mad that Valentine didn’t have it in the first two seasons. It now seems a bit odd to introduce it now considering Valentine didn’t in fact ever have it, but whatever. Also Clary being like “fuck Morgenstern weapons” was kind of funny considering her kindjals are waiting at home.

Magnus’ storyline. Though it’s kind of weird and rushed and confused, I’m just glad my man is getting some real focus on him as a person rather than a love interest or idk some overblown “son of Edom” thing.

Cain was, I admit, a really cool and interesting concept, and I already really like Pasha!! I hope he’s continuing to get better after his surgery. Don’t love as much how they’re mainlining Lilith as the Biggest Bad Ever and a Whole Evil B*tch (more on that lovely term of endearment later).

Mirek was really cool, kind of had to laugh at the “demon middle class.” Can’t help but wonder if the “status quo” thing was a deliberate political joke or not. Either way, Jonathan has never met a structure he doesn’t want to overthrow. Does the Clave spark joy? Apparently not.

MELIORN IS BACK!!!!! And wants a threesome, apparently.

Jonathan peevishly being like “I forgive you for trying to kill me, btw” and Clary just rolling her eyes and ignoring him.

Jonathan’s fucking GAAAY. (Or bi. pan. whatever. You do you. All I’m saying is THIS BITCH RAINBOW). I do not care what the intention was, that’s what I’m choosing to get out of it.

Things I didn’t like:

the plot of this episode is pretty much enough material for an entire season. They compressed it so much people are calling it a filler episode. Jace and Luke figure out the secret of the apartment (which is untraceable), go to Siberia, figure out Jonathan is alive, find Clary and rescue her and that’s only about 15 minutes of footage overall. That could be spread out over 15 episodes.

On the Simon side: they find the first fucking vampire, become his new bestie, get the only thing in the world that could rid him of the mark without any sort of price or even really having to ask, they get back into Faerie without any problems, Meliorn takes them right to the Queen despite knowing Simon has a weapon of death on his face, she agrees without argument to unmark him not even knowing if he’ll explode or what, the mark is off in about 14 seconds, the FUCKING DRUG PLOTLINE IS BACK AG A. I N. And then rose petals. That could have been the entire SEASON.

No Maia. (I know she’s in the next ep I just want to complain).

It’s also weird because it seems like Malec is progressing on normal time and the other two story strands are progressing on some extreme kind of fast-forward. It gives you all kinds of whiplash. If there was any kind of thematic overlap or even an attempt to connect the strands thematically it might work to ground the other storylines but it. Does not.

I hate that the apartment is Lilith’s and not Valentine’s, and that apparently it can only go to a few select spots now. NOT. THE. POINT. Point = missed.

And onto the things that bothered me the most: the whole treatment of Jonathan and Clary, and the Sizzy. For which I need an entire section to bitch.

Jonathan and Clary: why god have you abandoned me

* Ok so honestly, I had to go and check to see who wrote 3x11 and 3x12, because  it had to be different people. 3x11 was by Todd and Darren, and 3x12 was by Alex Schemmer. Schemmer has only written one other episode in 3a (3x03), which explains to me why he seems to have missed a fair bit of lore. To me, the huge difference between 3x11 and 12, which basically deal with the same plot line (Clary kidnapped by Jonathan, wary of him, trying to escape) but in hugely different ways and different focus.

In 3x11, the focus is all on Clary. Her initial confusion, her fear, anger, the attempt to escape, the attempt to kill Jonathan. All shot from her point of view. She takes more action than he does—she runs away, she grabs the knife, she stabs him. He is mostly reacting to her, running after her, offering her soup and tea and trying to win her over. Even when he does talk, the scenes where he talks about himself are brief and she shares equal part in the conversation.

This makes sense, as she is the main character.

In 3x12, everything is about Jonathan. From the first shot everything is about him, the camera focusing on him even when Clary is the focus of the scene (i.e., when she’s finding new clothes—and was a shirtless scene necessary? Like we get it, you nearly killed poor Luke in a gym somewhere, thanks for the update). Every time he and Clary talk, it’s just him talking at her. “I forgive you for killing me.” Telling her she’s good at art. Telling her there’s an Institute nearby. Telling her he likes art. She can barely get a word in edgewise from the get-go, and it only gets worse on the hot chocolate “date.”

He says the whole point is to get to know each other better, but he LITERALLY talks about himself the whole time. Clary barely even reacts, just makes eyes at a phone. He doesn’t even seem to notice she’s not listening. Like guys, this is every bad tinder date ever. Then they go to to the antiques store, and even then she’s shuffled off—shoo! Get out of the scene!! Even the French guy interrupts her at every turn and she gets shuffled off like a sack of potatoes *again*.

Like don’t tell me Clary couldn’t kick his ass and then explain things to him when he’s pinned to the ground. It would be faster, safer, and if Jonathan shows up again she can be like “ohh he was threatening us!! Look, I beat him up to keep us safe!” and Jonathan would buy it hook, line, and sinker. Since killing people in broad daylight is ok, clearly the show isn’t worried about the realism of fighting in the streets.

And then she’s shuffled off AGAIN, and although the show clearly understands that being kidnapped and controlled by your dangerously unhappy brother who seriously has the creepy hots for you is a pretty freakin SCARY situation, it still shows all this from Jonathan’s point of view, teasing the “romance” of it all and giving us hehe teehee little slips of it (like the shirtless scene). And then when she finally is able to break free and actually do something, he yells “BITCH” at her and runs off, and she falls into Jace’s arms, completely forgetting to act like a real human being.

The reason why 3x11 works so much more for me is that Clary is at least an equal partner, and is given space to react and actually do things; in 3x12 they seem to take any excuse to bundle her off, keep her out of frame, mute her reactions. Jonathan and his feelings take center stage and suddenly Clary is a side character in her own story. 3x11 is more compelling because Jonathan is legitimately trying to win her over, trying to connect with her, personally. It’s obvious he cares about her opinions as a person and her as a person—you couldn’t replace her with a cardboard cutout and the scene would read the same. They actually interact. In 3x12 he’s just ranting at her about himself while she sits there. On no narrative level is there any sort of connection or interaction.

Like imagine the situation differently. They’re in art store, because lbr the real museums prolly wouldn’t let them shoot there, and Clary is talking to Jonathan about her favorite prints and artists. He’s listening, maybe a little too intently, maybe talks about a piece he likes and what it means to him. She looks unnerved. As they talk, the camera follows her gaze, and we realize she is trying to find someone’s phone to take it. She’s pretending, of course, but there is something charming about Paris. Jonathan keeps offering to buy her souvenirs, very awkwardly, trying to find something to please her. She picks something to make him happy. He returns from the register just before she can make a grab for someone’s phone and bolt for the door. He suggests they go to the cafe across the square. We cut to where they’re sitting down, she’s tearing into a croissant. Jonathan is wearing a “I <3 PARIS” cap, which is a bit jarring and distracting. Clary tells him it looks silly and he takes it off. He mentions in a forcedly offhand way that this is where he met Sebastian Verlac, and seeing her expression, quickly adds that he knows what he did is wrong. She says something along the lines of “do you, tho” and he launches into his monologue. She tells him that she liked Sebastian Verlac, even though she never met the real him. He looks happy at first, then seems to understand what she means, and his expression darkens. He tells her that that’s exactly what Valentine said she would say—that she likes Sebastian, not him. She looks disturbed at the mention of Valentine, and he takes the opportunity to tell her the whole thing about not wanting to hurt anyone and the whole thing being about killing Valentine.

And yada yada yada you get the idea.

Honestly the whole rescue felt very contrived—how convenient Clary has been posthumously pardoned one day before her rescue! And then Jonathan calling her a bitch—haha no thanks. The entitlement is uhh Not Great.

Anyway tldr @ Alex schemmer Clary is not a sofa pls give her some human emotion pls and thanks

Sizzy: why god have you abandoned me, the sequel

Honestly writing that entire wall of text wiped me out but ill try

The drug arc is the bane of my existence

Im so tired

I thought we’d be done in season 2 yet here we are at the end. Drug arc: 1. Actual character development: 0.

Why is this the ONLY plot line the show can remember or keep running for more than 2 episodes. WHY

Why does she even like Simon. They never interact. They don’t even know each other. Everything is just an excuse to get them together. it’s forced and leaden.

Playing her and Raph off as badwrong and her and Simon as rose petal romantic is weird af dude. Izzy has just been the tail end of male characters’ storylines for so long and I’m tired.

If they’d played it off as a sacrifice on her part I might be less mad, like paint her as a hero but it just felt like this was expected of her. It was romantic because there was nothing else to do and OF COURSE she couldn’t refuse!!! Please be realistic, she’s a woman. Think of herself even a little? Impossible!

Never mind she could have easily used her medical training to open a larger artery, pour the blood into his mouth, and iratze herself as soon as Simon was cogent enough to be out of danger. He was already woken up enough to drink the blood she poured from her hand. No biting/venom necessary. Lmao.

Stop treating Izzy like shit just to force a romantic storyline seriously lmao

Aaaaanyway lol that was like 20000000 words but those are my thoughts if you made it to the end you deserve a trophy or smth

[ktrsvo]

well the prompt I have for you is from the book (but I keep picturing the movie Simon so its definetely a cross over? Idk)... In the book after Bram realizes who Simon is he overhears Abby talking to Nick about Simon and some guy named Cal, thats when he gets jealous (totally is during that email where he tells Simon hes glad everything is working out for him).... WELL, I wanna see Bram's side of it you know? Because I have this feeling that Bram liked Simon WAYYYYYY before he knew Simon was gay

ocean eyes

Simon has an idea on who Blue is, but he isn’t Bram.

guess who just rewatched love simon w/ her friends today? (this is gay culture) so here’s a quick one, fellas, im in a mOOD :-D

Bram rereads the email an extra couple times, and honestly? There’s nothing on this stupid planet that can make his scenario any better. Not Sam Smith songs, and certainly not sad Reddit sob stories. Nothing, nada, zilch.

To his right, Garrett’s going on about some dumb, freshie stoner kids who were caught dealing behind the bleachers just a few days ago. Something about ziploc bags, spray-paint canisters, a couple hundred bills of cold hard cash. He even mentions a Cadillac - though Bram’s not paying enough attention to see its relevance to the story.

A waitress comes by to plunk down their orders, but Bram’s not hungry. Not anymore. So his plate of chocolate chip waffles sits untouched, until Liam reaches over and pulls it towards himself. At one point Garrett shoulders Bram to gain his input about, what, the mechanics of boob physics in anime - but since the current look on Bram’s face is saying, “I don’t give a shit right now,” in practically bold neon letters, Garrett claps him on the shoulder and thankfully lets it slide.

Liam isn’t having it, though. Christ. His eyebrows knit together tightly, the way it always does when he’s puzzling over his girlfriend’s texts like he’s looking for cracks, some hidden undercurrent of deception, and, really, Bram wants to tell him to please, back off, but.

It’d only pique the guy’s curiosity. Get him onto Bram’s case like some certified Blue’s Clues super sleuth. Fucking Sherlock Holmes 2.0.

“You okay, dude?” Liam says, leaning over the table on his elbows. Trying to catch a glimpse of the secrets stewing on Bram’s phone screen. Like, oh no, what could they be? His own girlfriend’s messages? Videos about titties bouncing?

Well, it’s probably a good thing that Bram’s about as straight as a curly straw.

“Yeah, I’m just tired. It’s been a really rough day,” Bram says, trying to casually shove his phone inside his pocket so that Liam won’t focus on him as much. And it works. So good for Bram.

Later that night, when he gets back home after enduring that hour-long rundown of the amazing dribbling techniques that apparently won a school not from their district a national gold medal, the first thing he does is flip open his laptop. Naturally.

Then, this is where his critical thinking skills come into play  - the difficult part. God.

Bram resists the urge to face-plant on his keyboard.

Jacques - no, Simon, as in Simon Spier - doesn’t think Blue is Bram. Doesn’t suspect it’s him. Apparently the image on his mind is some dreamy, blue-eyed artist who’s presumably from his theatre class. Some boy with a nice singing voice, and a 64-pack of Prismacolours and superhero comic books stuffed inside his Kanken bag, probably.

The image assembles itself from Bram’s superficial observations of the seemingly highbrow, artsy types in their school. Theatre kids, all of them. Lovers of The Secret History, photography, minimalism, flowery prose, and Romance languages.

In Bram’s head, they’re gathered in a blinding stairwell that smells vaguely of nail varnish and resin. Wearing white Chuck Taylors with phrases inscribed along the vamp, the laces removed and looped around the hooks of their boyfriend-cut jeans. Amor vincit omnia, one reads in a purposefully messy scrawl.

And another - dulcius ex asperis - in slanted handwriting. All wide spaces. Narrow letters.

Yeah, sure. Cool.

Okay, Bram doesn’t know where he’s getting at - it’s probably the resentment that’s talking its traitorous mouth off - but the point that remains is this: Simon has a crush on someone. And that someone isn’t him.

Which is fair enough, if Bram’s thinking about the whole matter from a logical standpoint, all subjectivity aside. It’s not like Bram is the only person out there who fits the criteria Bram’s been hinting at in their messages. Like, lover of Oreos? Unofficial Night’s Watch Member? Really? Bram knows this one guy in the cafeteria who eats the stuff everyday. Inhales it like it’s oxygen, and he’s on lifetime support. He could probably be into Game of Thrones, too, for all Bram cares.

Come to think of it, he was wearing a House Stark shirt this one time, one with a really detailed direwolf and that green escutcheon -

Bram shuts his eyes.

Groans.

______

So, that boy Bram’s been thinking about? Mister Ocean-Eyes aka Simon’s version of Blue?

Cal Price.

He overhears Abby and Nick discussing it one day, as he’s walking to class. Not the Blue part, of course. They don’t know about that. No one else does. Unless Simon told them, which is unlikely.

“Think it’s Cal that’s on his mind?” Abby says to Nick in a voice low enough that only someone really paying attention can discern. “Like, Si was looking at him weirdly during practice yesterday. It was really sweet, y’know. You should’ve seen it.”

“Weirdly, as in -?” Nick makes a face Bram can’t see, but it makes Abby giggle and shove at him playfully. Meaning it’s an expression of the lovesick persuasion.

Abby lets out another snicker. “Yeah, like that!”

Nick shrugs. “Well, maybe, then? Seems like it, I guess?”

Then, the two of them round the corridor and disappear into the Global Issues classroom, the traces of Abby’s laughter somehow lingering in the air. Like a spritz of perfume.

Bram’s hands tighten where they’re gripped around the straps of his backpack.

____

……..

Anyway, it looks like things are working out the way you wanted them to. So, good for you.

Blue

Bram doesn’t bother looking the message over before he clicks on “Send.”

___

…..

Can we just pretend none of this ever happened and go back to normal?

Simon

Honestly, if only Bram could.

___

He could, Bram finds out the next day, when he accidentally locks gazes with Simon.

When Simon gives him that smile - that small, half-moon smile Bram is so, so weak for.

He could, Bram thinks, looking away quickly, blushing.

He most definitely could.

[eversall]

Idk if you've ever watched Friends, but Jimon + the gang finding out about their relationship in the style of Monica and Chandler

i have watched friends and asdfghjkl i love monica and chandler and this is one of the best episodes ever so this prompt is extra amazing. obviously, all credit goes to friends for the plot. also, i want to point out that this fic by jess ( @softjimon) has more friends!jimon and reading her thing is 100% the inspiration i had to finish this one so quickly. 

fool around like we’re sixteen and secret || jace/simon, 3k+, secret relationship + fluff || (ao3 link coming soon!)

In March, Simon goes away for a weekend to Vermont. Songwriting boot camp, he claims, he and his writers are sequestering themselves away for a few days to work on his upcoming album. Jace happens to be out of town that weekend too, because - as he tells Alec and Izzy - he was called to consult on a case involving an adoption scam.

“Since I have experience,” he explains, “they want me to be there for their initial analysis.”

Alec believes him. Why would Alec not believe his brother, his FBI case partner, his roommate, his best friend? 

He doesn’t even think about it until the next Monday, when Jace gets back on a red-eye flight, grinning about apparently seeing Raj and Duncan together in an elevator in the hotel he was staying at, and they’re running around trying to get ready for work.

“I’m out of shaving cream,” Alec calls from the restroom desperately, “I can’t show up to work looking like I haven’t slept in seventy-two hours!”

“In my carry-on, use my bottle, I haven’t unpacked yet!” Jace yells from his bedroom. So Alec rushes out to the living room, digging through the duffel bag on the sofa, and comes up with not one but two bottles of shaving cream. One’s sleek and black, and the other is…Batman themed.

“What is this?” Alec asks as he smirks, waving the bottle at Jace, who’s walking out of the bedroom. “Discovering your inner child, are you? Your puberty-driven, cartoon-character supported shaving?”

Jace freezes, and his eyes go comically large. “Uh…I found it?” He offers. Alec raises an eyebrow, and decides that he’s not judging. He just doesn’t have the energy right now.

“If you want to re-live those hormone fueled years, be my guest.” He laughs as he tosses the Batman bottle at Jace, and then goes into the restroom to shave.

It’s not a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

But then, later that night, he and Jace go across the hall to Clary and Simon’s place so they can is wait for the other two to get ready for dinner - which, God, both of them are so high-maintenance - the only person allowed to be that high maintenance is Magnus, and Alec isn’t biased, shut up Jace -

But as he and Jace lounge on their (much nicer, antique) sofa, and Clary is trying to get her earrings untangled from her hair, Simon makes several trips back and forth from his bedroom to the bathroom, frowning and muttering to himself.

“Si,” Clary finally asks, amused, “are you…alright?”

“I lost my Batman themed bottle of shaving cream.” Simon says, frazzled. “I guess I left it somewhere in Vermont while I was away -”

“Oh?” Alec asks, frowning. That’s weird, certainly, that this is the second time that he’s encountering this Batman-themed bottle, but that’s fine. Coincidences happen. “How was Vermont?” He asks politely.

“It was great,” Simon’s suddenly smiles, his eyes going dreamy, before his expression smooths out into a smirk. “I saw Raj and Duncan making out in an elevator -”

Alec’s eyes widen and he bolts upright, just as the door opens and Magnus and Izzy waltz in.

“You what - “ He hollers as Izzy yells “Clary!” and Magnus says, loudly, “I think the barista down there hates me”, and at the same time Jace jumps off the couch, his face pale as a sheet, and tackles Alec to the ground. In the ensuing chaos and noise, Jace bodily drags Alec into Simon’s bedroom, and Alec splutters as Simon follows behind and shuts the door.

“You!” He says dumbly, pointing at Simon. “And - you?” His finger swings wildly to point at Jace, who rolls his eyes.

“Yeah.” He says. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“So, to clarify.” Alec asks. “This isn’t some huge coincidence, you both went to Vermont for the weekend to…?”

“Romantic getaway.” Jace says, at the same time that Simon says “To have uninterrupted sex.”

“Uninterrupted - “ Alec starts spluttering again.

“Babe, don’t break him.” Jace says, amused. Simon grins as he grabs his hair gel off his dresser and starts styling his hair.

“Why did you both lie?” Alec crosses his arms and regards the two of them. “There were so many ways I could have found out, and discovering that the two of you fucked for three straight days isn’t the way I prefer.”

“We just wanted to keep this to ourselves for a little while longer.” Simon says, his fingers working through his curls as he glances at Jace through the mirror and smiles softly. “It’s nice to just be in our own world.”

Jace smiles back, and it’s embarrassingly besotted. Alec wants to bang his head against a wall somewhere, but also -

“I’m happy for you guys.” Alec says gruffly, and Jace and Simon both beam at him. “Stop smiling like an idiot, Jace. Batman themed shaving cream, honestly.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” Simon says, snapping his fingers. Jace snorts, and kisses him. And the way Jace leans into it, the way Simon’s shoulders relax, the way they both look at each other - Alec supposes it isn’t the worst secret in the world to keep.

.

Clary finding out is entirely by chance. She’s just passing through the living room when she hears the buzz of a vibrating phone from the sofa cushions, and she pauses and sets her bowl of popcorn down, tossing pillows aside to find Simon’s phone getting a flurry of incoming texts.

[jace]: u free babe?

[jace]: alec’s left to bother magnus or something, idk

[jace]: come over, we can do that thing you’ve been asking for since i can be as loud as i want now ;)

[jace]: tell clary ur gonna do laundry when really ur gonna do me

Clary shrieks and tosses the phone back onto the sofa, scrambling backwards and grabbing her popcorn. Mouth agape, she cradles her food to her chest and spends a horrified few seconds thinking oh God, is this karma for when Simon walked in on me making out with that girl in eleventh grade? Is this my punishment?

Then another thought hits her, and she straightens up and smiles, munching on a few kernels of popcorn thoughtfully. Laundry, hmm, is that the excuse Simon’s going to use?

She can’t say she’s not happy for them. It’s clearly been a long time coming, and they both would do anything for each other. It’s sweet. She’s a little hurt that Simon didn’t tell her, but she gets it. It’s their thing, and if they want to keep it a secret, it’s fine.

That doesn’t mean she’s not going to have a little fun with it, though.

Half an hour later, Simon finally appears in the apartment, after a long day at the recording studio. He groans, and heads straight for the couch as Clary watches, with no small amount of glee, from her position at the kitchen table.

“I can’t believe I left my phone.” He says morosely. “Clary, why am I like this?”

“Beats me.” She says cheerfully. “I like that you’re like this. It makes me seem like such a high-functioning adult.” She throws a few pieces of popcorn at him, and he distractedly grabs at one of them and pops it into his mouth as he scrolls through his phone. He flushes a deep red, slowly grinning, and he locks his phone and tucks it into his pocket.

“Got a lot to do this evening.” He starts saying loudly, heading into his room as he continues to talk. “Gotta clean my room, write some emails, do some laundry - “ He appears in the living room again, toting his laundry basket, which Clary suspects is full of clean clothes. “I’m just, ah, going to go do that laundry. Maybe I’ll answer the emails from my phone while I wait - “

“Oh, you’re doing laundry?” Clary asks, making a big show of looking surprised. “You wouldn’t mind doing a few pairs of jeans for me, right? I really need them before I head to the studio tomorrow.”

“Your…jeans.” Simon stops and looks baffled, and then, bizarrely, he looks around the room, like that’ll help him figure out what to do, and he sighs and smiles at her. Clary almost feels a little guilty when he says, sweetly, “Of course I can. Give me whatever you need!”

.

Izzy finds out in what she later claims is a worse way than Clary. She’s looking at an apartment in the building over, and all things considered, it’s going pretty well, until she goes to the window.

“Oh my God,” She says, laughing, “look, Clary, it’s Jace and Simon. We can see your apartment from here.” She turns, but Clary’s gone - presumably to the bathroom, she can hear the sink running. She turns back, and -

Simon has Jace pinned against the wall next to the window, holding his wrists loosely over his head with one hand and grabbing his ass with the other. They’re kissing like their life depends on it, with Jace shamelessly rolling his hips and chasing after Simon’s lips every time Simon pulls back.

Izzy is scarred for life.  

“What are they - oh my God! No! Why are they - don’t do - oh my God!” She yells, skidding backwards with her hands clapped over her mouth. Clary comes tearing out of the restroom, hollering “What, what?!”, and then she skids to a stop when she sees what Izzy’s looking at. To Izzy’s surprise, she just makes a face and mutters a curse under her breath before throwing the curtains closed.

“God, yeah.” She mutters, turning to roll her eyes. “They’re a thing.”

“This is - wow.” Izzy’s almost stunned by the revelation, but not quite. Jace and Simon have always had a certain tension, and it’s undeniable that the two are romantics at heart; they’re good for each other. What’s stunning is that they’ve managed to keep it a secret. “Wait, how did you find out?”

“I saw some of Jace’s texts to Simon.” She shudders. “Every time Simon says he’s doing laundry? He’s going over to Jace’s and they’re…” She trails off, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, and Izzy laughs.

“Sex.” She says, enunciating the word, and Clary shudders theatrically. “Really, laundry is their code word? That’s so…sickeningly domestic.”

“Oh, not anymore.” Clary grins, perching on the arm of the sofa. “Now I ask him to actually do my laundry.”

“Oh you are horrible.” Izzy rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “They don’t know you know?”

“No. I’ve been having fun with it.”

Izzy thinks about that, and then a slow smirk spreads across her face.

“Not enough fun, I think.”

.

Alec walks into the room, sees Clary and Izzy whispering, and immediately backs out.

“Nope, I’m going back to my apartment.” He decides, but they look up and immediately fix him in place with their stares.

“Alec,” Izzy says very seriously, “we need your help.”

“For what?” Alec asks warily. Izzy gets up and approaches him, crossing her arms.

“We know something,” She says slowly, “and if we tell you it needs to be a secret - “

“Oh, no.” Alec says immediately. “Absolutely not, I’m not doing this secrets thing again, have fun - “

“No, come on - “ Izzy drags him to sit at the kitchen table. “It’s for a good cause.”

“What’s the good cause?”

Clary comes over and braces her hands on the table. “Jace and Simon.” She says, and Alec squints at her suspiciously.

“What about them?” He asks slowly. Clary and Izzy share a look, in that weirdly synchronous silent language they have - when are they going to start dating? - and nod.

“There’s something you should, um, find out for yourself.” Clary says. “Why don’t you go to your apartment and knock on Jace’s door?”

Alec immediately freezes up. One of the most unhelpful things about knowing his brother secret is that he and Simon are now taking it as permission to go at it in their room while Alec is still in the apartment. They’re quiet, sure, but the walls are paper thin, and Alec just really wants less of a sex-dazed Simon walking around. He’s terrible at chess when he’s like that, and Simon’s pretty much the only person that’ll play chess with him.

“Simon’s doing laundry with Jace.” Alec says slowly. “That’s what they said.”

“Go check.” Izzy insists. “Humour me.”

Alec blanches at the thought of what he could walk into, and immediately responds with a horrified “No.” Izzy’s eyes widen at his reaction.

“Do you know what I think you know?” She hisses. Alec groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know what you think I know.” He says.

“I know you know something, but I’m wondering if what I know and what you know are - “

“Jace and Simon are sleeping together!” Clary blurts out, and then she slaps a hand over her mouth and looks shocked at her own admission.

“They’re not sleeping together, they’re dating - oh hell.” Alec says, when he realizes what he’s walked into. Izzy slams her hand down on the table triumphantly.

“I knew you knew!” She crows delightedly. “Now, you can help us freak them out!”

“Or we could all stop.” Alec bemoans. “Stop with the secrets.” Nobody listens to him. Nobody ever does, because all the people he hangs out with are idiots. (Except Magnus. Though, truth be told, this is probably why Magnus lives a safe distance away from all of them.)

.

Jace is baffled, to say the least, when Simon bursts into his apartment and screeches, with wide eyes, “You sister just grabbed my ass! She flirted with me!”

“She what?” Jace asks from where he’s perches on a bar stool. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure her hand touched my ass in a sexual manner - yeah I’m sure!” He says. “What’s happening?”

Jace never gets to respond, because Simon’s phone rings. “Oh my God, it’s her.” Simon wails, before he answers and puts it on speakerphone. “Hey, Iz!” He says as cheerfully as he can, while his face goes through a series of alarmed expressions. Jace frowns and hops off the stool to sling an arm around his boyfriend, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

“Hey, handsome.” Izzy’s voice sounds from over the speaker, and Jace blanches because her voice is low and definitely dipping into seductive territory. “I was just thinking about you.”

“And I, uh, was just thinking that I have to go! I have something I need to pick up, bye!” Simon says, ending the call and throwing his phone down on the counter. “Am I going crazy? Am I suddenly attractive?”

“You’ve always been attractive.” Jace mutters, pressing his lips to Simon’s temple. “Relax, breathe.”

“Izzy is trying to date me, there’s nothing relaxing about this.” Simon moans, but he eases into Jace’s hold, leaning back and letting Jace rake his fingers through Simon’s hair.

Alec snorts from where he’s sitting in his armchair, and both Simon and Jace startle, looking at him. Jace had kind of forgotten he was there, but Alec is being suspiciously silent, and his gaze keeps flicking to Simon’s phone. An absurd little thought begins to form in Jace’s mind.

“Alec,” He asks slowly, “does Izzy know about us?” Then he remembers all the fucking laundry he and Simon have been doing the past week. “Does Clary?”

“No.” Alec says immediately, looking down at his book. “Of course not. How would I know if they knew? I don’t know.”

“Alec.” Jace warns, narrowing his gaze. Alec flushes, but he dutifully keeps his eyes glued to his book. “Look at me, Alec.”

There’s silence for a few seconds as Jace crosses the room, striding closer to Alec, when Alec finally cracks and throws his hands up. “Yes, they know, can we be done with this whole secret thing now?”

“I knew it!” Jace crows. Simon leans against the kitchen counter and shakes his head.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad an attractive woman turned out not to really be flirting with me.” He remarks, and Jace points at him.

“Watch it, you’re still dating me.” He says. “More importantly, how are we going to retaliate?”

“Retaliate?” Simon asks, laughing. Jace crosses his arms impatiently, dead serious.

“Yeah. Oh, it’s on. Two can play at this game, and we’re going to fucking win.” He hisses. Alec springs out of his chair, looking at Jace in horror.

“Not more of this.” He says, aghast. “When will this nightmare end? And I expect you want me to keep this a secret too?”

Jace looks at him, and Alec flips him off as he stomps to his bedroom.

.

Which is what leads to the current ridiculous tableau that Jace finds himself in, peeking through a tiny crack in the bathroom - where he’s hiding out - and watching Izzy and Simon play a game of chicken as they try to seduce each other in the living room. He’s pretty sure Clary and Alec are on the other side of the front door and watching just like he is as Izzy and Simon play out the weirdest scene Jace has ever seen.

“You have such…impressive biceps.” Izzy purrs, dragging her finger down Simon’s chest - which is nowhere near his biceps! Jace grits his teeth and reminds himself that Simon is dating him, and that they’re just doing this so they can win.

“You’re quite impressive yourself.” Simon says, his voice low, and he moves in closer to place his hand on Izzy’s neck, hesitantly. Izzy visibly startles when he does, and looks momentarily flabbergasted before she soldiers on.

“You should kiss me.” She says, thrusting her chest forward. Simon gulps.

“Okay, yeah.” He says. “I wanna do that too.”

“So do it.”

“I will.” Simon woodenly places his other arm around Izzy’s waist, and Jace momentarily resists the urge to throw something at the two of them and separate them. Izzy and Clary can’t get the better of him and Simon.

“Okay.” Izzy licks her lips, her movements jerky as she leans forward. Simon does so too, inching forward, and the seconds tick by agonizingly as their lips get closer and closer, the space between them shrinking, and then they’re touching and kissing -

“AGH, NO, YOU WIN, I CAN’T KISS YOU!” Simon yells, jumping backwards and tripping wildly over his own feet. Izzy shrieks and points accusingly at him.

“I knew it! And why can’t you kiss me?” She gloats gleefully. Simon’s still breathing hard when he yells “Because I’m in love with Jace!”

Jace’s heart stops and he finds himself moving without thinking, shoving the door open and stumbling out to a stop in front of his boyfriend, whispering a shocked, soft, “What?” At the same time, Clary and Alec spill through the front door, gasping in unison and yelling “Oh my God”, as Izzy throws a hand out and accidentally knocks over a chair. In the ensuing chaos, Magnus appears as well, almost out of thin air, surveying the scene in front of him - Jace and Simon breathing raggedly, staring at each other intensely, Izzy trying to haphazardly pick up chairs as she watches everyone else at the same time, and Clary digging her nails into Alec’s arm as she bounces on the balls of her feet, with Alec alternating between scowling and trying to pry her fingers off, staring proudly at Jace, and smiling at Magnus.

Magnus arches an eyebrow. “Clearly, I’m missing something.” He murmurs, moving to Alec’s side.

Jace ignores all of them. He stares at Simon, who’s finally looking up at him through his absurdly pretty eyelashes, his eyes warm and a little fearful.

“Say it again.” he demands hoarsely. Simon stares at him, and takes a slow step forward, the corners of his lips turning up helplessly in a smile.

“I love you, Jace.” He says, and it seems to Jace like the world comes to an abrupt standstill the second Simon says the words, his vision narrowing down to the man of his dreams in front of him. This is happening, he thinks dizzily, this is real. He gets to have this, have someone who cherishes him and holds him close and makes him laugh, who genuinely loves him.

Jace breaks out into a smile, his veins thrumming with adrenaline as he says “I love you too”, and then they’re surging forward to kiss each other desperately, Simon crushing Jace to his chest as Jace loops his arms around Simon’s neck. It’s way, way too indecent for the audience they have, but this is the first time they’ve said those words to each other and Jace needs to feel Simon, as close as possible, needs to nip at his bottom lip and swallow down the rough groan that works its way out of Simon’s throat.

It feels like hours later when they pull apart to Clary’s loud coughing, and then Simon ducks his head, blushing bright red, and Jace rests their forehead together.

“This is so much more amazing than I thought it was going to be.” Clary says, and Jace finally turns to see her beaming at them. “I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Thank you.” Jace says, smirking. “I’m happy for me too.”

“Alec, dude, thanks.” Simon says fervently. “For keeping everyone’s secrets.”

“Don’t ever make me do this again.” Alec says flatly, and then his face softens. “Also, don’t break each other’s hearts. I’ll be out a brother and a friend, then.”

“Well, it’s good to see that you two are finally telling everyone.” Magnus says, smiling fondly at them. “You don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

“I’m gonna kind of miss going to do ‘laundry’, to be honest.” Simon says, pinching Jace’s side, and Jace laughs, shying away from the touch as the rest of them grin. There’s a beat of silence, and then Clary frowns.

“How did you find out, Magnus?” She asks. Magnus looks at them, puzzled.

“I figured it out the night after they first slept together, after London.” He says, while they all gape at him, Jace and Simon included. “Wasn’t it quite obvious?” When everyone continues to look at him with various degrees of astonishment, he frowns. “How did all of you find out, then?”

They groan, loudly.

“Don’t ask.” Alec advises. “It’s a long story.”