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rhosyn-du · 3 years ago

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Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter One

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3, Tumblr Master Post

Chapter One

“Lightwood’s Mortuary, you stab ‘em, we slab ‘em. How may I direct your call?”

“You know,” Izzy said, “that joke would land a lot better if you hadn’t turned green last week when I mentioned getting to do my first cadaver dissection.”

“First of all,” Jace said, abandoning his laptop in favor of flopping back onto his bed, “it’s creepy that you say ‘getting to’ instead of ‘having to.’ And second of all, no one wants to hear about how much fun you had slicing up dead bodies over Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Max wanted to hear about it.”

“Max also can’t wait to get to middle school because he heard you get to use actual fire in science class,” Jace pointed out.

“Max is just into science like his big sister,” Izzy countered breezily. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”

“Please,” Jace said with far more enthusiasm than the situation probably warranted. “I’m desperate enough for any distraction that will take me away from trying to memorize third declensions that I would love to discuss whatever family holiday drama is so colossal I’m hearing it from you instead of Alec. Is Robert planning to show up uninvited to Christmas dinner with his girlfriend again? Oh! Did Mom finally snap and kill him? Is that why Alec isn’t calling? Is he helping her hide the body?”

“Oh my god,” Izzy laughed. “Dad and Annamarie are spending the holidays in Provance with her family, and there are no bodies to be hidden. This is what you get for taking Latin instead of Spanish like a sane person.”

“This coming from a woman who’s studying both,” Jace pointed out.

“Yeah, because a basic understanding of Latin and fluency in Spanish will both help me get into med school, and I need all the help I can get if I’m going to get into Grossman. Besides, I’d never imply anyone in this family is sane. If you studied more, you’d know that ‘Lightwood’ is just Latin for ‘totally fucking cracked.’”

“Please,” Jace snorted. “It’s not even a Latinate name. It’s Germanic. ‘Lightwood’ is Old English for ‘totally fucking cracked.’ Speaking of which, what’s the Christmas disaster?”

“It’s not a disaster exactly,” Izzy hedged, and Jace felt a sudden frisson of actual unease. Izzy normally had no problem speaking her mind. “It’s not a disaster at all, actually. It’s just. I invited someone.”

“Oh.” Jace relaxed. He didn’t know why Izzy was making such a big deal out of this. In the years since the divorce, Maryse had often encouraged her kids to invite any friends without a place to go to join them for holidays. Izzy’s own roommate had come for Thanksgiving last year. “That’s cool.”

“No,” Izzy said, like he was missing something obvious. “Jace, I invited someone. Someone I’m seeing. Seriously.”

“Oh,” Jace said again, this time with dawning comprehension. “That’s great, Iz. I’m happy for you. Wait, Mom’s not doing her overprotective, no-one-is-good-enough-for-my-children thing again, is she? Is that why you called, you need me to run interference?”

“No, no,” Izzy reassured him, although her voice still held an underlying tension. “Mom’s been great, actually. They knew each other already, so that probably helps.” Jace heard a shaky inhale before Izzy continued. “You, um. You know her, too, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Jace said with forced ease, wracking his brain for any clue as to what could have Izzy so freaked out. Whatever it was, Jace wasn’t going to add to her stress. As far as he knew, Isabelle had never even been serious enough about someone before to even use the term girlfriend or boyfriend, let alone bring them home for Christmas. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“It’s Clary,” Izzy said in a rush. “I’m dating Clary.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and Jace was glad he was already lying down.

“Clary?” he repeated. “M—” He just barely stopped himself from saying “my Clary.” Because she wasn’t, not anymore. Not for a long time. “Morgenstern?” It was a clumsy recovery, but it was the best he could manage. “You’re dating Clary Morgenstern?”

Jace and Clary had met at the beginning of Jace’s junior year of high school. Clary, a year younger, had just lost her mom, and the two initially bonded over the shared experience of having lost parents. But Clary was fierce and bold and so full of passion even in the depths of her grief that Jace really couldn’t help falling in love with her. They’d dated for nearly two years—practically forever in high school terms—and even though they’d both known they were growing apart by the time Jace had to choose between his first-choice college in Boston and staying in New York to go to NYU, Clary would always hold a special place in Jace’s heart as his first love.

“Yeah,” Izzy said on a heavy exhale. “For a while now. That—that’s why I called. I didn’t want it to be weird, you know? For us all to just show up and for it to be a surprise. But I guess I probably shouldn’t have done it over the phone, either. I just didn’t think—”

“Izzy,” Jace said, much more calmly than he felt. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

“God, I should have told you sooner,” Izzy continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. “I just knew it probably would be weird for you, so I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure—”

“But you are now,” Jace interrupted again. It wasn't really a question. “Sure.”

“Yeah,” Izzy breathed. “I’m so sure.”

“Then it’s not weird,” Jace lied. “I mean, come on, my sister is dating someone who makes her happy and who I know will treat her right. What kind of idiot would I have to be to complain about that?”

“Really?” Izzy pressed. “Because I told Clary I wanted to talk to you before we finalized plans. So, if it is weird for you, or even if you just don’t want to be the only single person at the table on Christmas—”

“I won’t be,” Jace interrupted.

There was a pregnant pause, and then Izzy squealed so loud Jace had to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Oh my god, Jace! That’s amazing! Why didn’t you just say you were bringing someone, too, you jackass? Do you know how worried I’ve been about telling you about me and Clary?”

Which wasn’t what he’d meant at all—he’d only meant that Maryse was single, too—but Jace couldn’t resist the excitement in Izzy’s voice, not after her earlier panic.

“If I’d known you were all freaked out, I would have said something sooner,” Jace improvised. “It’s kind of new, and I haven’t even had the chance to tell Mom yet.”

“Let me,” Izzy insisted. “I’ve been trying to get her to admit that she and Luke are an item for ages, and maybe knowing that we’re all happily attached will be the push she needs.”

“Hold up. Mom…and Clary’s stepdad?” Jace was starting to wonder if this was some bizarre stress nightmare brought on by impending finals.

“Yup,” Izzy confirmed, popping the “p.” “They’re not even subtle about how much time they’re spending together, but Mom keeps talking about how they’re ‘just old friends.’” Jace could practically hear the eye roll.

“Anyway,” she continued, “if I leave now, I can catch Mom closing up the bookshop and maybe finally get her to crack. Don’t worry about Christmas plans. I’ll take care of everything. Talk to you later!”

“Iz, wait,” Jace started, but he was interrupted by the telltale beep of the call ending.

Jace stared at his phone, wondering how, exactly, he’d managed to make such a disaster of things. He couldn’t deal with this right now, he decided, tossing his phone aside. He just had to get through finals, and then he could come up with some excuse for why his nonexistent girlfriend couldn’t make it for Christmas. An excuse that wouldn’t make Izzy suspicious. Or Clary. Or Alec. Or— Fuck. Not thinking about it.

He turned his attention back to his laptop only to realize after several minutes of staring blankly that he wasn’t prepared to think about Latin anymore, either. Fuck it. He was going to spend the rest of the evening on the couch, drinking beer and watching stupid people doing stupid things on TV and thinking about absolutely nothing at all.

Because Jace just couldn’t catch a break, he found both the couch and TV already in use. He wanted to be annoyed, especially since he knew this was at least the dozenth time this semester his roommate had watched Return of the Jedi. Part of him was annoyed. But another part of him was…not annoyed. And that was yet another thing Jace wasn’t going to think about.

Jace’s first impression of Simon Lewis, when he’d walked into History and Literature of Music their freshman year, had been that he was kind of hot, in a nerdy way. His second impression, when he actually talked to Simon a few days later, was that the guy was annoying as hell. Over the course of the year, as they somehow ended up hanging out with the same group of friends, it became a tolerable sort of annoying. So tolerable, in fact, that when Jace found himself desperate for a roommate the next summer when Raj bailed on him last-minute, he’d agreed to let Simon have the second room in the surprisingly affordable apartment he’d found.

Jace’s third impression of Simon came four days after they’d moved in together, when he happened to be walking down the hallway at the exact moment Simon stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, a stray droplet of water trailing down his surprisingly well-defined abs. In that moment, Jace must have lost his mind, because he had the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to follow the path of that droplet with his tongue and, oh. Oh no. Jace had been wrong this entire time. Simon wasn’t just annoying. He wasn’t just nerd-hot. He was annoyingly hot.

And Jace was maybe just a little bit in trouble.

Because he’d seen the kinds of people Simon dated. Thoughtful. Driven. Well-adjusted. Unlike Jace in pretty much every way that mattered. Not that Jace dated, but he wasn’t the kind of person Simon hooked up with, either, he was pretty sure.

(Jace confessed his fourth impression of Simon to Maia several months later, after many, many shots of tequila. Maia laughed at him for a solid five minutes, but she also poured them another round and never mentioned it again after they sobered up because she was actually a pretty good friend despite how much she always seemed to enjoy Jace’s suffering.)

“What’s wrong?” Simon asked around a mouthful of instant ramen. Jace refused to acknowledge that the way his cheeks puffed out when he ate was cute.

“Just.” Jace shook his head. “Holidays. Family stuff.”

“Your sister planning to make Christmas dinner again?” Simon asked.

“Worse,” Jace said, flopping onto the other end of their stained Goodwill couch. “She’s dating my ex.”

Simon winced. “Ouch, dude.” Simon poked at his noodles with a pair of well-used disposable chopsticks. “You still have feelings for your ex?”

“What? No, of course not. It was ages ago, and we were practically still kids. And the breakup was mutual.” He made a face. “But Izzy’s bringing her home for Christmas.”

“Okay, yeah, that could be a little awkward,” Simon conceded.

“It gets worse,” Jace admitted. “When she told me, I kind of panicked and said I was bringing someone home, too.”

Simon frowned. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not,” Jace told him. “Which is kind of the problem.”

“Wow. You really know how to make things difficult for yourself.”

“Thanks,” Jace said. “Very helpful.”

Simon shrugged, then said, as casual as if he were offering to toss Jace’s towels in with his to make a full load at the laundromat, “You could always take me home with you.”

Jace stared. “What?”

“I mean, I’m going to be in the city anyway,” Simon continued, “and it’s not like my family does Christmas. I think Mom and Becky can manage the traditional Chinese takeout and Fast and Furious marathon without me.”

“Your family watches The Fast and the Furious on Christmas?” It was the only part of that Jace was emotionally prepared to process.

“It used to be Die Hard, but Mom’s got a thing for Vin Diesel, so now we alternate years.”

Jace stared a moment longer, waiting for any of this to make sense. On the television, Boushh threatened Jabba with a thermal detonator.

“Right,” Jace said when it was clear the situation wasn’t going to make sense of itself. “Okay. Rewind to the part where I’m supposed to take you home with me for Christmas and, what, pretend you’re my boyfriend?”

He could picture it all too easily. Simon wielding his enthusiastic charm to keep Izzy out of the kitchen while Jace helped Maryse make dinner. Simon joining Alec in coaxing Jace toward the piano when it was time to sing carols. Simon flushed and smiling after a couple mugs of Magnus’s deceptively alcoholic eggnog. Simon’s hand in his because that’s just something boyfriends do.

It was a horrifyingly tempting prospect.

Jace pushed those thoughts away, crossing his arms over his chest and directing all the scorn he felt at himself into the stare he leveled at Simon. “What’s that supposed to accomplish other than giving me a headache?”

“Hey,” Simon said, setting the dregs of his ramen down on their secondhand Ikea coffee table, “I’ll have you know that I make an excellent boyfriend.”

That wasn’t exactly news. The fact that Simon was friends with basically all of his exes said as much. But Jace wasn’t about to let on that he paid that much attention to Simon’s dating habits. Or to pass up such a good opening. “That why you’re single?”

“Not the one currently desperate for a holiday date here, pal,” Simon pointed out.

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty eager to be my holiday date just a second ago,” Jace said, adding a wink just to be obnoxious.

“It was an offer, jackass. One which I now deeply regret.”

“Which you should,” Jace told him, turning to the TV and pretending to watch. “Now we can both forget this conversation ever happened, and I can go back to figuring out what I’m going to tell my family about why my nonexistent significant other can’t make it for Christmas this year.”

“Right,” Simon muttered, picking up his bowl and turning his own attention back to the movie.

Jace told himself he didn’t feel just the tiniest bit disappointed.

“The thing is,” Simon said several minutes later, as Boba Fett tumbled into the Sarlaac pit, “my cousin Rachel is getting married on Valentine’s Day. And my Bubbe Helen is still pretty cranky with me for breaking up with Maia.”

Jace frowned at him. “You and Maia dated for like a month and a half. Over a year ago.”

“Yeah, well,” Simon said, “Bubbe Helen really liked her, but I think maybe that’s because Maia’s the only person I’ve ever brought to a family function. So, I was thinking maybe if I brought someone else to Rachel’s wedding, she’d get the hint and drop the Maia thing. And then you suddenly needed someone to take home for Christmas, and I thought we could, you know, help each other out.”

It was a terrible idea, and Jace meant to say so. He really did. But what came out of his mouth instead was, “You want to introduce me to your grandmother?”

“I mean,” Simon said with a shrug, “she’d probably be happier if you were Jewish, but I honestly think she’d be happy to see me with anyone who’s not a total asshole. Ever since she found out Maia and I aren’t together anymore, she’s been acting like I’m going to end up a lonely old maid or something, which I totally don’t get, because A, I’m only twenty-one, and B, she doesn’t think it’s a problem that Becky’s single and Becky’s two years older than me.”

“Glad to know I meet the very minimal requirement of not being an asshole.”

“Not a total asshole,” Simon corrected with a teasing grin.

“You’re really making a compelling case for trying to convince our families that we’re a couple,” Jace said drily. But he was maybe just a little bit weak for Simon’s smile, so he added, “But you might as well tell me how exactly you think this would work. Theoretically.”

“Theoretically,” Simon repeated. “Right. Well, we’d need to come up with a game plan, obviously. And rules. Rules that we actually follow, because that’s where things like this always fall apart, when someone ignores the rules.”

“Where things always fall apart,” Jace repeated. “Is this something you do often?”

“What? No! I just mean like in movies and stuff. Fake dating is practically its own genre, so we have a ton of examples for how not to do it, and…” Simon frowned as his voice trailed off. “And now that I’m saying this out loud, I’m realizing how dumb it sounds. You’re right. We should forget this conversation ever happened.”

“Or,” Jace said slowly, knowing he was going to regret it but unable to stop himself, “we could spend some time coming up with a plan and then decide if we think it will work.”

“Wait, really?” The slow grin spreading across Simon’s face did nothing to ease Jace’s sense of impending doom, but it did fill him with a soft warmth that made the doom easier to ignore.

“Why not?” Jace shrugged with practiced nonchalance. “I’m done with classes at noon tomorrow if you want to do it then.”

“I’ve got a break from then till three if you don’t mind meeting near campus,” Simon said. “Say, Java Jones at twelve-thirty?”

“Sure,” Jace agreed to the background of Jabba’s sail barge exploding. He hoped that was less metaphorical than it felt.

~~~

“I thought we were planning a couple of fake dates, not staging a major military operation,” Jace said as he surveyed the notebooks and stacks of paper strewn across the rickety cafe table in front of Simon.

“Oh, sorry,” Simon said, hastily shoving exactly one of the many notebooks into his backpack. “I was just reviewing notes for my econ final while I waited.”

“Is all of this really necessary?” Jace asked, attempting to clear enough room on the table for his coffee and the banana muffin that was attempting to pass for lunch.

“It’s so necessary,” Simon told him, reaching over to steal a piece of Jace’s muffin. “I don’t want to end up like Melissa Joan Hart in My Fake Fiancé.” He popped the piece of muffin into his mouth. “Or Melissa Joan Hart in Drive Me Crazy. Oh! Or even worse, Melissa Joan Hart in Holiday in Handcuffs.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

Simon sighed heavily. “I’m saying we need clear, well-defined rules if this is going to work.”

“Is rule number one ‘don’t be Melissa Joan Hart’?” Jace asked, snatching his muffin away when Simon reached for it again and taking a pointed bite.

“No,” Simon said, with far more seriousness than Jace thought the situation warranted. “That’s rule number two. Rule number one,” he continued, opening a blue notebook to a fresh page, “is ‘absolutely no sex.’”

Jace choked on his muffin.

“If there’s one thing everyone seems to agree with, it’s that things always break down when that rule gets broken,” Simon continued as though Jace weren’t struggling to breathe around a mouthful of muffin and why Simon thought they even needed a rule for that.

Jace washed the remaining crumbs of muffin down with a generous swig of coffee, then leaned back in his chair with a deliberately cocky grin. “I mean, I know I’m damn near irresistible, but do you really think you need a rule to keep from jumping me?”

“Rule three,’’ Simon said, scribbling furiously in the notebook, “treat each other with the same respect we’d treat people we’re actually dating.”

“Hey, I would have the same question for someone I was actually dating.”

Simon looked up from the notebook. “That explains so much about your dating history.”

Jace flipped him off, and Simon flashed him a shit-eating grin. “Nope, sorry, rule one. But,” he continued, serious once again, “we should have rules about what kind of physical affection we are comfortable with. Like, I know we don’t normally do hugs, but it would be weird if we never hugged in front of your family if we were dating, right? What about holding hands, is that too much? And what about kissing? I’m definitely cool with cheek kisses, but I don’t know—”

“Simon,” Jace interrupted before he could get too worked up. Or make Jace think about more things he really shouldn’t be thinking about. “You’re allowed to hug me. And hold my hand. Honestly, I’m sure I’d be fine with anything you’re comfortable doing in front of my family, so how about we just go with this: casual touches are fine and for anything else, I’ll follow your lead.”

The look Simon gave him was so searching that Jace almost worried for a second that Simon would be able to see right past his crossed arms and feigned nonchalance to the part of him that was less worried about showing physical affection than how much he wanted it, the part that avoided hugging Simon because he liked it.

“Okay,” Simon said finally. “But you have to promise you’ll tell me if anything I do bothers you even a little bit.”

“You mean like singing Shake It Off at the top of your lungs in the shower?” Jace asked.

“That was one time!” Simon protested. “I was up all night studying and under the influence of too many energy drinks. We agreed never to mention it again.”

“No, you told me never to mention it again and I laughed at you.”

“See, this is why we need rules. You’re already breaking number three.”

“Yeah, because we’re not pretend-dating yet,” Jace said. “That one might be a little rough, but I’m sure I can manage with some practice.”

There was that searching look again, but then Simon nodded like Jace had said something particularly insightful. “You’re right, we should practice.”

“We—what?”

“If we’re going to convince people who actually know us that we’re dating, then we should practice first,” Simon said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “Not just the rules we know are going to be hard, but all of it, so we can work out any kinks in the plan before showtime.”

And maybe it was reasonable, but it was one thing to put on a show for his family, for Simon’s family, for a few days at a time in places that might be familiar to each of them individually, but that weren’t theirs. It was entirely another thing to do it here, in the cafe they went to at least twice a week, or on campus where they’d first met and had to keep on attending classes for at least another year, or even worse in the apartment they shared, around their friends—

“I really should have thought of it earlier,” Simon continued, blissfully unaware of Jace’s inner turmoil. “My best friend back home, she’s an amazing liar. Like, seriously, she got away with everything when we were kids. But any time she needed me to back up her story, she’d make me practice with her like a hundred times until she knew I could convince her mom and stepdad, even after I got good enough that I didn’t have to practice to convince Mom. Man, those two could sniff out the tiniest discrepancy in any story. Like, if normal parent bullshit detection is a one, my mom’s is probably a solid three, but Fray’s parents? Eleven, easy.”

“I’m pretty sure no one I’m related to has supernatural bullshit detection,” Jace told him. “And it’s common knowledge I’m a better liar than you are, so if you can fool your mom without practice, so can I.”

“Maybe,” Simon conceded. “But a little bit of practice couldn’t hurt, right?”

Jace was pretty sure that it could hurt, actually, but he was also pretty sure he was the only one in danger of getting hurt, so it probably wasn’t worth consideration. Especially weighed against the hopeful enthusiasm in Simon’s expression.

“What did you have in mind?”

“We could start by pretending we’re on a date right now,” Simon suggested. “We’re already sharing a muffin. So, just treat me like you’d treat anyone you were on a date with.”

“My dates don’t usually involve this many notebooks,” Jace told him. “And if my date stole my muffin, the date would be over.”

“Come on, you’re not even trying,” Simon said, gathering up the papers and notebooks. “You’d really ditch your date over a muffin?”

“Absolutely,” Jace insisted. “They’d have to be seriously good in bed to make up for it, and I’m pretty sure rule number one says you’ll never get muffin-stealing privileges.”

“If the biggest benefit to sleeping with you is getting to share your muffins, then I’m not the one missing out,” Simon told him.

“You selling your body for muffins now, Lightwood?” an amused voice interrupted. “I bet I know a few people who’d toss a bran muffin or two your way for a chance at that ass.”

“Which is why you’re not my pastry-pimp, Roberts,” Jace said, smirking at Maia as she helped herself to one of the table’s empty chairs. “I only trade this ass for top tier, gourmet muffins. If your muffins don’t have at least two Michelin stars, I’m not interested.”

“I give him a week until he’s working corners for Entenmann’s,” Simon told her. “He was just threatening to walk out on our date over a bite of mediocre banana nut.”

Maia’s eyes widened. “Your— Oh, shit, sorry,” she said, scrambling out of her chair and throwing them both an apologetic smile that Jace was pretty sure wouldn’t be directed at him if he were sitting with anyone other than Simon. “I swear I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just thought you were studying or something. You guys have fun, and I’ll just—”

“It’s a practice date,” Jace interrupted, “not an actual date. And Simon’s a dirty muffin thief who won’t even put out, so I’m not sure it really even qualifies as any kind of date.”

Maia looked between the two of them, then slowly lowered herself back into the chair. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what exactly is a ‘practice date,’ and why are the two of you on one?”

“Jace needs a fake boyfriend to take home for Christmas, and I need a fake date for Rachel’s wedding,” Simon explained, snatching the last bit of Jace’s muffin without remorse. “And we thought we should practice dating before trying to convince our families that were actually, you know, together.”

“That’s a terrible idea, and I regret any part I played in the two of you becoming friends,” Maia said flatly.

“Yeah, that would probably worry me more if you didn’t say that like twice a week,” Simon told her.

“Oh god, Simon, what did you let Jace talk you into now?” another voice asked, and suddenly there were three more people crowding around their tiny table, because apparently all of their friends were at Java Jones today. Which, in retrospect, Jace should have expected, given how often they all hung out there.

“It was actually my idea,” Simon told Maureen, sliding his chair closer to Jace’s to make room for her, Bat, and Lily. “Jace is taking me home to meet his family over the holidays, and I’m taking him as my date to my cousin’s wedding.”

This proclamation was met with a stunned silence that was broken when Lily turned to Jace and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“That’s for abandoning me, jerk,” Lily told him. “Not that I can really blame you—either of you,” she added, giving both Jace and Simon an appreciative once over, “‘cause damn—but I thought we had an understanding.” She sighed heavily. “Now that you’ve gone over the dating Dark Side, who’s going to be my wingman? You’re probably going to start doing all kinds of relationship-y things and talking about feelings—” she said it like it was a dirty word “—and crap like that.”

“I am not going to talk about my feelings,” Jace said, at the same time that Simon said, “We’re not actually together. We’re just pretending.”

“They’re planning to try to convince their families they’re dating even though they’re not,” Maia explained. “Because they apparently think that’s not just a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Oh,” Lily said, sounding oddly disappointed.

“Fifty bucks,” Bat announced, “says that when this blows up in their faces, Jace is the first one to break down and call Maia in a panic.”

“Hey,” Jace protested.

“Oh, you’re on,” Maureen said, ignoring Jace entirely. “Sorry, Simon, but no one panics quite like you.”

“I’m in,” Lily said, “and I agree with Maureen that Simon will break first, but his call to Maia will be interrupted by Jace calling five minutes later.”

“Why am I the one getting all of the panicked calls?” Maia wanted to know.

“Because you’re the only person at this table who isn’t an asshole,” Simon told her, “but nothing’s going to go wrong, let alone panic-inducing levels of wrong, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Dude,” Jace said, “she’s an asshole to me.”

“You like it,” Maia and Simon said in unison, causing the rest of the table to collapse into laughter.

“Okay, fine,” Maia said around her giggles several minutes later, “if you’re all betting, then count me in, too. I bet that these fools,” she looked pointedly at Jace, then at Simon, “don’t call me when this whole thing goes to hell, but I somehow end up having to haul their asses out of trouble, anyway.”

“I rescind my assessment of you as not an asshole,” Simon told her.

“I’d think twice about calling the woman who’s going to haul your ass out of trouble an asshole if I were you,” Bat said.

“Back to this pretending to be together thing,” Lily said. “What exactly does that entail?”

“That’s actually what we were trying to figure out when you guys showed up,” Simon told her. “We started a list of rules, but we only made it to four so far.”

“Your list should definitely include making out,” Lily said decisively. “Having made out with both of you, I can say with confidence that you’re definitely missing out if you don’t. In fact, you should try it now so we can let you know if it looks authentic.”

“You just want to watch them make out,” Maureen said.

“Yes,” Lily told her. She didn’t add ‘duh,’ but it was implied. “I always want to make hot people make out. But in this case, I’m also being helpful.”

The ensuing argument over the line between helpful and self-serving was thankfully cut short by the opening guitar line of Blonde Redhead’s Barragan.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta take this,” Simon said, holding up his phone. “I’ve been playing voicemail tag with Becky all week.” He looked at Jace. “Talk more about this later?”

“Sure,” Jace told him.

“Tell your sister I said hi,” Maia called after Simon as he headed away from the cafe’s crowd.

“You know,” Jace told her in a low voice, “you could always tell her hi yourself instead of always asking Simon to pass messages.”

Maia gave him an unimpressed look. “After everything I just heard, I’m pretty sure you’re the last person in this room I should be taking relationship advice from.”

“Bite me,” Jace told her, but he didn’t disagree.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

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laualla · 5 years ago

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Roswell 1x06 South 285

Here we come, with one of my favourite episodes in this show, so let's go.

-Michael NO (we are starting good already)

-You are so not sneaky

-I would die if I had that assignment

-Liz's false hopes are amazing

-"tracking down your subject" That sounds creepy

-Liz is suspicious

-Of course, Topolsky was behind it, i had forgotten

-Max looks so guilty

-Max is also a dad, protecting his son in public but being so upset with him and letting him know

-And then there's Isabel with "can we get to the part where you were arrested?"

-Michael is like a rebel teenager whose parents had punished him without using the car

-Max and Isabel are his parents, I could write an essay on this

-Maria is flailing around her keys and he's just there, like an idiot

-The most awkward interviews in history

-Very subtle look, Max

-Isabel is rude but she's also nice

-Kyle you are an asshole

-Max you are an idiot (I feel like I say this everyday)

-Bad back my ass

-"You're stealing my car" Yes, Maria, very observant

-"Oh God, you're kidnapping me! No, wait, you're abducting me!" This is the best sentence in the episode

-Maria is so clever

-Isabel's full-mom-friend-mode has been unlocked

-Max, do not try to protect Liz, it's her best friend we are talking about

-The fact that Max only lets her get into the car because of Kyle makes me SO mad

-A part of me secretly loves Topolsky

-"At least she knows what species I am" Shit, Liz, where di that come-back come from? I'm proud

-"That's like, in another state" Yes, Maria, Texas is another state

-Michael, honey, everything is wrong with your driving

-They argue like a married couple and I live for it

-Michael is convincing

-"I really gotta pee." She really has the face of an angel when she says this

-This is the first real moment they collaborated and I'm proud of them

-"You owe me big" Yes, yes he does

-Kyle the detective, is this a Valenti thing?

-I really don't think the Sheriff is a bad dad, he is just too curious about other teens at the same time

-Liz is another kid and Isabel is so done

-I like that they are having an honest conversation

-Isabel has officially adopted Liz as another of her dumb children

-For being a secret agent, he's not very subtle

-Maria's car is shit

-They really do argue like a married couple

-Michael, be more fucking careful, you could've blown both of you up

-The fucking balloon cracked me up

-"Michael wait"

-Max, you are acting like an idiot. Is it just male alien genes or what?

-Kyle why?

-Valenti, why?

-"It's like the porno version of Aladdin" Fucking hell, what is this show

-I ship them a lot

-Maria does have a point

-Michael is nice for once and I'm proud of him. The growth

-Liz is done

-Isabel is getting ready to kill someone. Also she is third-wheeling hard and I pity her

-I've just seen the old version of Doritos lol

-Maria looking subtly at the bed gets me

-"Not if you're the last woman on Earth" I SHIP THEM SO MUCH AAAAAA

-Maria has been kidnapped and still tries to get her homework done lol

-Michael is actually so intelligent, I sometimes need to be reminded of it

-And here is their point in common: hating Roswell

-Michael got emotional, I can't believe

-"Not if you're the last alien on Earth" MY HEART. FUCK

-Also can I make a pause to talk about how beautiful Maria is? Thank you

-Liz still has high hopes and they never come true

-Btw, Max you're stupid and I don't say it enough, I hate Max

-Isabel, once again, being the intelligent one

-Maria, can you be more clumsy?

-Michael calling her "honey" makes me soft. Also, can you hear me scream?

-Isabel knows him so well. It's mother instincts

-Fucking Kyle

-Michael NO! You idiot

-Why do all men think they can do what they want with Liz?

-Thank you, Liz. I'm sorry for all the times I've called you an idiot

-Liz is standing up for herself and I'm living

-Maria is with her and they are just friendship goals

-I can't believe that Isabel is the only one that listens to them. Well, I can believe it, but I'm mad

-They talk like they killed someone, but they just wanna know where they're from

-Look at my squad, still incomplete, but getting there

-The key is like Liz, gets the hopes up for nothing

-Liz and Maria are a pack, if they aren't holding hands I believe they will die

-Everyone is waiting for Michael and that is such a change from the beginning, when they didn't trust him for almost nothing

-Maria is useful and my shipper-heart is alive

-My son is a genius

-Fuck you, Valenti, you scared my children

-Hi, Topolsky

And, to be continued... See you next week

#roswell 1999 #tv: roswell #roswell #roswell 1x06 #roswell rewatch #south 285

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malecsecretsanta · 5 years ago

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Merry Christmas, @KaijuusandKryptids!

*****

Just Another Family Dinner

Alec smiled to himself when he stood in front of the mirror. Family dinners were never appealing to any of the Lightwoods, but that was in the past. The Lightwoods finally became the family they were supposed to be. Every sibling, except for Max who was still young, was heading to the dinner with their lovers. It was a beautiful sight, and all the gang was happy because finally they got to be a normal family, well, ignoring the fact that said family dedicated to erase evil and fight demons. Alec’s mouth curved up, he didn’t care if they weren’t normal, all he cared about was that he had all of his beloved ones by his side.

Evil defeated once again, the Lightwood’s decided to make a family dinner on one of the fanciest restaurants in the city. Of course it was Magnus’s suggestion.

Magnus was sitting at the bed, watching his boyfriend getting ready to go to dinner. It was a beautiful sight, and Magnus felt so lucky to be the one who Alec loved. His boyfriend was wearing a stunning black suit. Magnus did know that all men looked so much better in a suit, but hell, Alexander Lightwood was in another whole level.

A well fitted suit and a white shirt beneath it with the first two buttons unbuttoned. was everything Magnus needed to be drooling. He caught Alec’s gaze in the mirror and smiled. Now that he had admired his shadowhunter, Magnus went to the dressing table to apply his make-up. Once he was done he got up and took his boyfriend’s hand in his. It was a beautiful night and they decided they had the time to go to the restaurant like mundanes. Maryse, Robert, Max, Izzy and Simon were already sitting at the table laughing and talking.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” Magnus said once they took their seats.

“Hi, mom, dad, guys, what are you talking about?” Alec asked.

“We were just guessing what couple would be the last to arrive.” Maryse said.

“We decided to arrive in the mundane way. We had time. And I’m a little offended because I have a perfect timing.” Magnus said.

“Right. Like when you got to the institute just in time to stop Alec’s wedding.” Everyone laughed at that. Even Alec. He really had been so wrong.

“I still remember that movie scene.” Simon said. “That was the day I began with the shipping.”

“Like I said, perfect timing. On the other hand, where are my biscuit and the annoying blond? You weren’t talking about that, am I right? Because I don’t know about you but my guess is that they are doing some reckless stuff.”

“Or naughty.” Izzy said.

Robert and Maryse just closed their eyes. Too much information. They all remembered that time almost two weeks ago when Izzy had found the couple in a very compromising situation. Of course she had to tell everybody. Now every time someone goes to the weapons room accompanied, they get suspicious glances. Jace and Clary appeared by the door and took their seats after saying hello to everyone.

The waiter came and took their orders. It was Magnus’s turn to warn Robert about the ingredients in his plate, he wasn’t going to like them. Robert changed his order, after thanking Magnus for his advice.

The food arrived and so did the drinks, all the family made a toast because once again they had defeated the enemy and were safe and secure with all the people they loved. Everyone was glad they could have a little time of peace for themselves.

The night passed with mockery and laughs and soon all the conversation went to the child memories.

“Yeah, but seriously, you think you have your smart boyfriend and everything, you see him like that and think he has always been like this, what you don’t know is that he was the one who slept in history’s class.” Jace said to Magnus. Magnus snorted.

“Yeah, I might have been asleep a few times, but at least I wasn’t trying to impress the girls.”

“Well, it isn’t my fault that girls found history so attractive.”

“You didn’t exactly were showing of your knowledge, more like your new movements with a sword.”

“Uh, what sword?” Simon asked.

“Simon!” All the Lightwood’s whispered-shouted.

“Hey, relax. I’m joking. ” Simon raised his hands in surrender. “I don’t know what age we are referring to, I guess I was just trying to figure it out if this was the beginning of the...”

“Book club?” Clary complemented. Clary already knew how Jace got his conquests; the book club was full of girls.

“Fun fact,” Max said, joining the conversation. “I really don’t know a person who doesn’t ask ‘do you read?’ to Jace when he mentions that.”

“You traitor! I do read.” Jace said, feigning betrayal.

“That’s a joke that never ends, you have to understand that.” Izzy said, sipping her drink. Jace looked at her with a mischievous smirk, Alec saw that and immediately knew what was about to happen.

“You mean like the joke about your cooking skills?” Sadly, they all had to laugh, including Isabelle.

“You are paying for that, you know that, right?”

“It was worth it.”

“But seriously, who can actually cook in this family?” Asked Magnus.

“I mean, there’s a difference between a person who cooks and one that literally burns everything.” Maryse said.

“Mom!”

“Sorry, dear. Magnus is right, we aren’t chefs but hey, you scared me more than once when you were at the kitchen.”

“Fair enough.” Izzy said.

“I know for a fact that I can’t cook, Maryse is a decent cook as well as Jace, Clary, Simon and Magnus.” Robert said.

“What?” Alec asked.

“Does that count? Magnus literally has magic in his hands.” Clary said.

“Yes, that’s what Alec says all nights.” Jace said, winking.

“Jace!” All the members of the family reprimanded him, except for Magnus and Alec, the latter was busy blushing while Magnus just stood there with an incredulous look. That reckless blond was so going to pay, but that would be for another day.

“Oh, right but when you eat my food I don’t see you guys complaining.”

“We wouldn’t do that but what’s fair is fair.” Simon said.

“I still can’t believe I’m not in that list, though.” Alec said.

“Bro, we are cut from the same cloth, don’t question the Lightwood DNA.” Isabelle said.

“Damn it.”

Magnus put a comforting hand on Alec’s knee. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you have me by your side, we are never going to die of starvation or poisoning.” Alec chuckled.

Life was good. He had a wonderful family, there was mockery instead of just politeness, and his parents had finally accepted their kid’s partners. Simon, Clary and Magnus were part of the family now, a family that each day seemed to know more mundane stuff. Alec was happy to learn, it seems that the little annoying mundanes weren’t actually annoying and had a lot to offer, and Magnus was just so glad that he could introduce Alec to this culture.

For Max’s disgrace all of his siblings remembered his childhood. He ended up with his hands on his eyes and red ears. Yes, one could be a charming and funny baby but why did all have to remember that time? However, he had seen plenty of photographs. “Clary, have you ever seen a picture with Jace running scared because of a rubber duck that mom was holding?” Everyone, except Jace laughed at that. It was even funnier because Jace had more than 10 years.

“Young man, they are little beasts, and I didn’t know it wasn’t real.”

“By the angel, I knew about that but I didn’t know there was a photo. I need to see it.” Clary said, laughing. “Oh, come on, it’s something I need.” She insisted when Jace just stared at her. Finally, he gave up and started laughing.

Alec smiled and thanked the angel that Max didn’t talk about him and Izzy, they had a lot of embarrassing photos. Why do all moms love to take photos of their children while bathing them? He didn’t get it. But he was glad Max seemed happy with just making fun of Jace.

The night was finally coming to an end. Everyone took their glasses and said cheers. They celebrated being together and being safe. All of them went to the Institute, except for Magnus and Alec. They took a portal home and collapsed on the couch.

“Well, the restaurant was fine, right?” Magnus asked.

Alec smiled. His boyfriend was a perfectionist and even more if all the Lightwoods were involved. It has been a while since they accepted him in the family and yet, the warlock was always trying to make everything perfect. “Of course it was. You are perfect.” Magnus just liked a little of reassurance. He knew the family loved him but still, it was very new to have a family like this. It made his heart flutter.

“Are you tired?” Magnus asked.

“Nope.” Alec answered, even if his body was feeling a little heavy. They had planned a movie night just for the two of them and he wasn’t going to miss it. “Come on, let’s see this movie you’ve been talking all week.”

“It wasn’t all week.”

Alec raised one of the eyebrows that Magnus loved so much. And the warlock went to find the movie. When he was done, he came back to the couch and snuggled close to Alec. The shadowhunter’s head rested on Magnus’s shoulder when the movie began. Magnus waved his hand and a cup of hot chocolate appeared in their hands.

A romantic movie. Sappy, funny and, in Alec’s opinion, amazing. He would be damn if he admits to his fellow shadowhunters that he actually liked the movie, but it was just Magnus and yes, by the end of the movie Alec felt light, happy and so lucky. He laughed when Magnus made jokes about calling him by a nickname. All the options were awful. And he asked Magnus if would’ve liked to be courted the way it was made almost fifty years ago. Magnus’s eyes sparkled when he said he thought it was something beautiful. Perhaps Alec could do something like that for him. For example, he never wrote a love letter, could he do it now? Maybe.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” Alec shook his head. “Nothing.” At Magnus’s incredulous expression he continued. “I was thinking that I really liked the movie, and how much I love you.”

“Aren’t you adorable? Attacking me with that sweetness of you, it should be illegal.” Magnus kissed his nose.

“Me? Adorable?”

“Yes, mighty, brave and bold shadowhunters can be adorable, Alexander.”

“All right, but you are adorable too.”

Magnus thought, not for the first time, how lucky he was. If someone had told him ten years ago that a shadowhunter would find him adorable and be his boyfriend he would have laughed and declared them out of their mind, and yet here he was, feeling happier than he ever had. Magnus kissed him slowly. Alec smiled into the kiss, making Magnus smile too. The warlock really enjoyed all the kind of kisses they shared, because behind them there was love. It was Magnus who broke the moment.

“Next time you are picking the restaurant.”

“What? No.”

“You’re telling me that after all this time we’ve been together you didn’t learn anything from me.”

“If I recall, you were the one who just two hours ago was asking if the restaurant was fine.”

Magnus kissed Alec’s lips, silencing him.

“Just a warning: next time we go to the institute I’m so going to find all the pictures of you as a child.”

“You’ve seen plenty of them.”

“I said all of them.”

“I’m almost sure you indeed had seen all, it’s not like we had tons of pictures.”

“It’s for science.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. And hey, I don’t know why you are so afraid. We’ve seen the pictures together.”

“I’m glad Max didn’t tell more of the stories behind the pictures.”

“Why? I’m almost sure Clary and Simon already know enough.”

Alec chuckled. “More than they need to. I need to keep the mystery.”

“Shadowhunters.” Magnus said, as if that explained it all. Perhaps it did.

“Shut up, mister ‘I survived the Big Bang’.”

“I’ve never said that. And I am not that old.”

“And yet, you go around telling people that you’re 500, 600, even 800 years.”

“You know what? Once, my shadowhunter boyfriend told me something about ‘mystery’, maybe he was right?” Alec smirked. He loved the teasing. He loved the playful relationship they had. The seriousness they could have. The competitiveness. The laughs. He loved everything. He loved Magnus.

“He is always right.”

“Mm. He is also funny.”

Alec snorted. “He sounds like an awesome guy.”

“Yeah, he is. I’m so lucky.”

“I think he is the lucky one.”

Magnus pecked his lips. Alec barely suppressed a yawn. Magnus laughed.

“Let’s go to bed, darling.”

Magnus got up from the couch and offered his hand to Alec. Alec let himself to be led to the bedroom. Sleep had taken over Alec’s body. He sat on the bed and watched his boyfriend undress. He liked that Magnus didn’t use always his magic. If he had time, he would do things like every other human. Alec’s lips were forming a little smile, from the moment he saw Magnus get dressed for dinner he thought he looked breathtaking. His cobalt suit along with the black shirt had him sneaking glances at him all night. Oh, how much he liked his man in a suit. His man. Every time he said that was as good as the first time, he was so happy that finally he could say that out loud. It was amazing. When Magnus finished he came to see his boyfriend.

“I am the one who’s getting you out of that suit, am I right?”

Alec’s smile told him everything.

He exaggerated his movements, that had the Nephilim smirking. When he was done he helped Alec to climb on the bed and covered them with the sheets. He took his boyfriend in his arms and Alec just snuggled closer to him while humming.

“Good night, Magnus. Love you.”

“Sleep well, darling. Love you too.”

Magnus kissed his temple and smelled his Alexander’s hair. He was finally at home and he knew this life with Alec was his happy place.

#KaijuusandKryptids #malecsanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

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ti-bae-rius · 6 years ago

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Pre-QoAaD release fic (Kitty) Part 2 of 2

(TW: The Cohort being assholes, mention of grief/death.) Obviously, LoS spoilers. This was kind of meant to be a fun little fic before QoAaD releases. Yes, I did leave this very late.

You can read part 1 here!

As soon as the portal guard checked their portal pass and marked it void with a stamp, handing it back to Ty, the two set off through the halls of the Gard. The moment they turned a corner, out o view and earshot, Ty stopped. “Okay, the meeting is in the basement. I scoped the room and I found a place we can listen in from. Come on.” The two of them hurried down some stone spiral stairs and when they reached a corridor at the bottom, Kit looked along the walls that were lined to the floor with tapestries showing important events in shadowhunter history. Halfway down the hall, Ty reached out and drew aside a tapestry emblazoned with a depiction of Jonathan Shadowhunter and his sister Abigail. He saw Ty’s eyes linger wistfully on the art before he beckoned Kit. Ty pulled a hairpin from his bag and shoved it into the lock of a door behind the arras. “Don’t you have a rune for this?” Kit hissed as Ty jiggled the hairpin in the door. “My track record with open runes isn’t great,” Ty shot back. Kit nudged him out of the way impatiently and took the pin from Ty’s hand. In the fifteen years living with his father, Kit had learnt to pick a lock. The mechanism gave and the door popped open, the boys dashing in and shutting themselves into the dark room as Zara’s familiar voice came on the other side, along with dozens of footsteps. “That was close,” Kit breathed. A ray of light tore through the dark room. Ty had a small torch in his mouth, held between his teeth. He motioned to a ladder attached to the wall and indicated for Kit to climb. When Kit was a few rungs up, Ty started climbing himself. Pulling himself onto the platform at the top, Ty removed the torch from his mouth and put a finger to his lips. Kit took the hint. “Where are we?” he whispered, shuffling nervously closer to Ty. “We’re in one of the box balconies. And down there,” Ty said, twitching aside the flag that hung over the balcony’s exposed side, keeping the boys hidden. Kit peeked through the makeshift curtain and saw the huge room below, a large circle of chairs dominating the space. A huge set of double doors creaked open and Ty readjusted the flag carefully. “Down there is the Cohort meeting,” Ty finished in a whisper, switching the torch off and casting the two of them into darkness, the space lit only by the half-light of the room below which was slowly filling with Cohort members. As Kit’s eyes adjusted, he could make out the vague shape of Ty beside him on the small balcony. Ty held his arm out and pointed to the rune he’d just drawn on his forearm by the minimal light of the main room below. He looked visibly uncomfortable and Kit understood why when Ty mouthed something: heightened hearing. Kit put his arm out and let Ty mark him with his second rune. It was strange, Kit thought, that all the runes he had were applied by Ty. No wonder Ty was uncomfortable; he was already way more sensitive to noise than Kit without runes. The burn of the stele as it touched his skin made Kit hiss in a breath and dig his nails into the meat of his palms. When the pain eased a little, the two of them focused their attention to the conversations of the meeting beginning below.

“My father being in charge is the best thing that’s happened to the shadow world for centuries,” Zara declared and a group mutter of assent rumbled through the echo chamber of a meeting. “Since Father has bigger issues to handle, I’ll be leading the meeting. Did you see he took the banner of that Downworld-lover, Alec Lightwood and put a photo of me up instead?” “It’s for the best. It’s not good for the shadowhunter children to see someone like that celebrated as a hero,” Samantha Larkspear said. Her twin, Dane, barked a laugh. “We could make a whole list of problems with that...I don’t even want to call him a shadowhunter.” “Well, he isn’t one. He’s with that Downworld whore, Bane, and one of his kids is a half-demon too,” Samantha said. “Gotta feel bad for the other kid though, the shadowhunter. He needs a real, shadowhunter family, with a mom and a dad. He needs saving from them.” Ty was boiling with rage. Magnus and Alec, and their sons, had come to look after them in London when Emma and Julian were in Cornwall, and they were the kind of family Ty had always kind of wanted. They were loving and affectionate and, regardless of the Cohort’s disagreement on Magnus and Alec’s child-rearing ability, Rafael and Max had two, doting and devoted parents, which is more than Ty had had in years. And the idea Alec didn’t deserve to be deemed a modern day Nephilim hero was so absurd Ty could hardly believe these people thought what they did. “We don’t have time to dwell on that mess of a family,” Zara said, though her voice seemed to communicate the fact she’d like to. “They’ve run off back to New York anyway. What I’m more concerned about is the fact that the Blackthorns have their tainted slut sister back.” She spat the words and they felt jarring and sharp, like venom flying from her lips. Ty wondered how many minds had already changed from that toxin, how many people had been poisoned. “I can’t believe Jia Penhallow is Consul. How can she possibly be in government and let her daughter marry that?” Jessica Beausejours spat, the French lilt identifying her to Ty even though he couldn’t see her. He could feel himself shaking with rage, felt Kit’s eyes on him. Helen - his beautiful, caring, empathetic, understanding sister - was not a ‘that’. He forced his breath to even out, even as Jessica went on. “The funeral was...something.” “Yeah, something great,” Dane added. These four or so voices seemed to be dominating the space, though Ty knew there were at least another dozen people there. “I’ll give the Blackthorns this: they put on a show.” “I still can’t believe that Ty kid climbed onto the pyre,” Samantha grinned. “I can’t believe he didn’t stay there,” a new voice replied. Ty’s head jerked up in recognition. “If the freak burnt, it’s not like we’d be losing a shadowhunter.” Paige Ashdown, only 15, was part of the Cohort. And she knew too much. Ty knew there was a reason Julian had kept them separate from the rest of the shadow world, knew he was different. He wasn’t stupid; he knew his siblings weren’t the same as him. But Paige knew him. Paige could tell everyone what she knew, could ruin everything. Kit looked across at Ty, who’d frozen. He was no longer shaking, just blanched and wide-eyed. Without a word, Kit shuffled closer to Ty and put a hand over Ty’s where it rested, braced on the ground, clammy and shaking. “Ty...” he began in a whisper. “Shh, I’m trying to listen,” Ty replied under his breath. He was moonlight pale but his jaw was set determinedly. If he was hurt - and Kit knew he was - he didn’t say anything, just focussed harder on the task at hand as the Cohort’s laughter died down and Zara spoke up. “We need to push for the Registry to pass. With my father being Inquisitor, we have the voice and clout in the Council we always should have. Families like the Blackthorns and now the Lightwoods prove that registering downworlders is necessary for maintaining pure, shadowhunter bloodlines. Honourable lines are being corrupted by tainted blood. As true, full-blood Nephilim, we can’t stand for it. It’s just simple facts; shadowhunters are superior warriors, so the purer the Nephilim blood, the better the warrior. It’s why I’m going to be the next Jace Herondale. I have pure blood. Father and I-” “Take a shot every time she says ‘father’,” Kit muttered and heard Ty huff a quiet laugh beside him that filled Kit with a strange sense of pride. When the two of them tuned back in, Zara was still talking. Shocker, Kit thought, rolling his eyes. “Why should we dumb ourselves down to fight alongside-” “Say, ‘mudbloods’,” Kit said, under his breath. “Please say ‘mudbloods’.” “-shadowhunters who don’t have the same Angel-given talent because somewhere in their line, one of their family screwed around with downworlders and brought shame on the whole shadow world? It’s ridiculous!” The others muttered their agreement and Zara turned to Dane Larkspear. “Dane, what have you found out about the so-called honourable shadowhunter families?” “Well, we know the Lightwoods are corrupt now, but did you know that not only was Isabelle’s fiancé a vampire before he was a shadowhunter, but their ancestor, Benedict Lightwood, died of demon pox.” “No wonder the Lightwoods are so messed up,” Zara said. “It’s in their genes to be downworlders’ bitches.” “The Herondale line too-” Dane continued before Jessica interrupted. “That’s not news, Dane. We all know that Tessa Gray bitch ruined their line. How Jace is still so amazing, I don’t know.” “I would totally kill that Clary for a chance with Jace Herondale,” Samantha giggled. Ty wondered how serious that death threat was. It was sinister paired with the playful laugh of teenage girls with crushes. “You wouldn’t struggle. She’s like 5-foot-nothing and basically a Mundie,” Zara commented. “She really doesn’t deserve Jace.” “Anyway,” Dane said, clearly impatient with the girls’ gossipy chatter about Jace. “I’m not talking about that. That Kit kid is hanging around with the Blackthorns, he’s the lost Herondale from that traitor Tobias’s line.” He seemed satisfied with the wave of noise that went through the room at this. The mention of his name had made Kit’s palm sweaty where it rested on Ty’s hand. “Not only that, he’s descended from the First Heir, Auraline.” He paused for effect before he said the words that made Kit’s hand spasm. “A faerie.” However, this revelation was nothing compared to what Dane followed up with, voice alive with glee. “The Lost Herondale line have a nasty little habit of ending up dead in suspicious circumstances. It turns out, a little group called the Riders of Mannan tend to be behind it and they’ve already tracked Kit down and almost got him but Bane interfered. But, what that means is that the Unseelie King’s bloodhounds, the most deadly assassins in the shadow world, have their sights on one untrained fifteen year old with blood weakened by Faerie interference.” Dane almost growled the last words. “Kit Herondale doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Shit!” Ty looked across, about to shush Kit, but he stopped. Kit was rigid with fear, shaking like a leaf. From down below, a voice rung out. “Did you hear something?” “Kit, we need to go,” Ty said firmly, and flung his backpack onto his shoulders, turning the flashlight on and holding it between his teeth as he began to climb down the ladder. Kit didn’t move. “Kit,” Ty said awkwardly around the torch. Kit looked down and his fight or flight kicked in. He scrabbled to follow Ty and the two took off as a voice in the meeting hall confirmed knowledge of their eavesdropping. “I think we have a spy.” The two of them burst through the huge double doors of the Gard and out onto the crest of the hill, overlooking Idris in all its spacious greenery. Ty was mentally calculating. Kit was already breathing hard and Ty wasn’t sure the boy’s shaking limbs would hold out long enough for them to make it home before the Cohort reached them - they had horses after all. Diana’s weapons store was closer, but it wasn’t worth risking her not being in. Plus, seeking refuge there would mean having to explain what they’d been doing. Absolutely not. He could hear footsteps nearby. They were running out of time. If Livvy was here, she’d know what to do. Livvy. “Come on,” Ty said, and grabbed Kit’s hand, pulling him around the side of the Gard and into the private graveyard around the back. Most shadowhunters went to the Bone City when they died. That’s where Livvy was, Ty knew, part of the monument of shadowhunters who’d died serving the Angel. But some families buried their loved ones in the cemetery behind the Gard. Kit walked dazedly over to a grave marked ‘Celine Herondale’. He faltered, a hand atop the tombstone. It felt cold and almost wet to the touch, like it had held centuries of rainwater and family’s tears in the stone. “I know she wasn’t from my line, but it feels weird seeing my last name on a gravestone,” he admitted. His voice sounded shaky and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure of the words before they were hanging in the tense air. The low temperature seemed to freeze what he said in place between them. “So, what now? That’s just it? Fifteen years of pleasant ignorance and now I have a target on my back.” He gave a laugh that sounded harsh and insincere. “This shadowhunter stuff sucks, y’know?” “You’re safe in Alicante,” Ty pointed out, lingering back a little. “The Unseelie can’t walk on Idris ground.” “So I just hide here forever?” Kit questioned, exasperated. “I just...hang out here with the Cohort until I die of old age or stress, whichever comes sooner?” “I’d hazard a guess at stress,” Ty commented. “God, I feel like I could cry,” Kit said, rubbing a hand across his face with a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Then you should cry. I won’t let them hurt you.” Ty sat down on the bench behind them. “I let them kill Livvy. I won’t let them kill you.” “You didn’t let them kill her,” Kit said, sitting down beside Ty. The stone bench held the same cold, almost damp feeling. “It wasn’t something you could’ve stopped from happening. One moment everything was okay and then...” “Then it wasn’t,” Ty finished. “Then it wasn’t,” Kit agreed. Ty looked out at the graves and sighed, resting his chin on his hand. “Is it bad I kind of wish Livvy had a grave?” “I don’t think that’s bad. Why do you wish that?” “I wish I could come and sit with her,” Ty said. “I could come and tell her about what I’m doing, about missions, about you and the others.” Kit glanced across and felt horror grip his chest when he saw Ty’s eyes were glassy. There was nothing he could say that would make this better. “I miss her,” he said softly, voice splintering like wood. It was the first time Kit had seen him close to tears since Livvy had died. It felt so much worse than the recklessness, but Kit knew it was definitely healthier than bottling everything up. Uncertainly, Kit edged closer until their elbows touched. “I know,” Kit said. He was casting furtive glances across at Ty and rubbed his sweaty hands on his jeans before he put an arm around Ty’s shoulder. He felt Ty tense briefly, felt his own toes curl, then Ty relaxed and Kit felt the anxious knot in his stomach loosen a little. “I know you do,” Ty said simply, looking out over the crest of the hill, above the headstones and turned dirt and yellowing grass. “That’s why I told you. I knew you wouldn’t think it sounded weird. Your dad died too.” “He was all I had.” “But now you have us.” Kit smiled down at his feet despite himself, “Yeah.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t care what the Cohort thinks of you, there’s a life out there for you, Ty. Maybe it’s a different one than it would have been if Livvy was here, but there is a life for you. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but your life can go on. She’d want your life to go on, Ty.” “Will you come too?” Ty asked. “Wherever ‘out there’ is?” Kit nodded and squeezed Ty’s shoulder. “Of course I will.” He knew those four words were a promise bigger than he could fully comprehend, a solemn vow. He knew that and meant it anyway. Perhaps his life wasn’t as secure as it had been a year ago, a fortnight ago, an hour ago. But it was still a life, and without it he wouldn’t have felt Ty’s head loll against his shoulder, wouldn’t have heard Ty’s breathing slow as his cheek brushed the material of Kit’s jacket. It was still a life worth living, for as long as he could get away with living it.

And that’s it! I hope everyone enjoys QoAaD. Once it’s released, I won’t be using tumblr too much but I’ll try and queue lots of posts (if I can remember how to queue after all this time!). I’ll still be online for a few more days, but I hope you enjoyed this fic. TDA means the world to me, and I’m so grateful to have journeyed through it with all of you. Here’s to TEC, TWP, and TLH. x

#kitty #KITTY FIC #ty and kit #kit and ty #kit herondale #Ty Blackthorn #tiberius blackthorn #tsc #tda #the dark artifices #QOOAD #queen of air and darkness #Fic #fanfic #cassandra clare

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glowstickia · 7 years ago

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I did @paranaturalsecretsanta again this year! This time I had @insultme-notmyfandoms. I lovingly call this au, Alchemy au. Hope you enjoy!

[AO3 Link]

Summary: Max finds the journal of a master alchemist and uses the notes inside to help him get his mother back.

Nicholas Flamel created the Philosopher's Stone, the elixir of life. The stone can transmutate mercury into gold and promise of immortality. This marvel of alchemy, the Magnum Opus, has not been recovered or replicated. Many have tried. Only a handful throughout history were able to formulate the structure of the stone. Forgeries made of glass and ruby have passed hands through black markets and con men swiping the replicas out from dead men's corpses.

The stone, linked with crimson, the color blood and the birthing flames of a phoenix never...existed. Yet, myths and legends swirl around it like a child's bedtime story or an alchemist's brewing potion. These legends brought hope to budding alchemists as they sought wonder digging through old symbols and notes of their masters. Perhaps, there is a way to extend life…

Max stole a glance around him as he adjusted his satchel. He pulled his cap down to shade his eyes as he slipped the leather bound book into his bag. His eyes stayed to the cobbled road as he weaved his way through the crowded, losing the sound of alarm from the bookseller yelling out from his stand.

He clung to his bag as he duck and passed around people, his eyes darting to shops on the street corners as he walked. Apothecary. Book keep. Brewery. Another bookseller. Fortune Reader. Herbalist. His heart raced as he passed the lavender and glass jars of dried herbs being carried out by a customer dressed in feathers and a wide brim hat. He didn't slow until he found himself kicking an overturned brick and walking down a slanted street. The cast iron lanterns hanging from curled blackened metal, swung gently in the breeze. None were lit as the sun still shone high in the sky.

He breathed easy as the crowd here thinned significantly. His hand dug into his satchel again, brushing against cold glass and well-worn leather. He sighed through his nose and stared ahead, walking with confidence as he passed another block. The peeling green sign greeted him as it swung lazily in the breeze. The Corner Store. A smile tugged at his lips as he strolled in, pushing the front entrance open. A brass bell chimed loudly as he entered. "Dad!" Max called, walking passed isles of groceries and everyday household products, "I'm home!"

Dad Puckett clicked buttons on the register, his glasses, thick and slightly fogged, glinted from an unknown source of light. "Son." He said, grinning as he pulled the lever of the cash register. It chimed. "That'll be four and three quarters."

The customer before him fumbled with his coins. His bushy mustache rocked on his face as he dug into the small, faded, snap bag in his hand. "Er, right."

Max quickly slipped behind the counter, attempting to avoid the gaze of shining glasses from his teacher. The man knew stars and words of the well read dead, someone one should never meet in a dark alleyway on a Tuesday night. His noodle wrath struck fear into all.

Max hadn't realized he was holding his breath until his little sister, Zoey startled him at the top of the stairs. She gave him a lopsided grin as one of her baby teeth poked past her lips. "Ha! Bit jumpy today." She said before bounding down the stairs. Max watched her leave before making a break to his room and swinging the door shut. He slid down as relief washed over him. He made it. He kicked off his shoes and stood, gently placing his bag on his bed before flopping face first into his sheets. Safe. He was safe.

When the sun sank and he made his appearance at the dinner table Max slunk back into his room. He eyed the bag, still resting on his bed and took a deep breath through his nose. He climbed onto his bed and dragged the leather bound book out from his bag. With much care, he slid his bag and the fragile contents under his bed. The glass inside clinked against each other as he gently kicked it the rest of the way underneath.

He unbound the journal from its thin leather strap and flipped it open. The parchment was yellowed, old and ink stained. Spills of coffee and potions warped the edges, wrinkling them and discoloring the writing. Symbols jumped out at him as he flipped through notes and diagrams. He licked his lips as his eyes scanned the pages. Maybe it wasn't here. Maybe it... He huffed, closed the journal, and gave himself a deep breath. He needed to clear his head he needed…

He flung backwards, his head smacking the pillow as he groaned into his hands. He needed Isabel. She was good at this sort of stuff, but... He muffled his frustration with his hands. She was the last person he wanted to get wrapped into this...this... His eyes glared at the ceiling as he huffed again. No. This was something he needed to do on his own. The less people wrapped up in this, the better. He sat up in bed. His feet dangled off the side as he stared at the floorboards. His eyes wandered over to the small wooden bookshelf. Books about daring knights clashing against monsters. Books about wizards creating the perfect remedy after learning the universe's secrets from the long journey they endured. Books he knew by heart. Books that called to him. Books that reminded him of her. His feet touched the floor. It groaned under his weight as he took a few strides towards the bookshelf. He sat on his knees and pulled out 'The Stone of the Phoenix'. Tears threatened his eyes as he flipped through the thin chapter book. Colorful images graced his eyes until he stopped on one of the dogeared pages. On the page was the image of a phoenix, fire flaring around it like a sun. The phoenix, wrapped in a cloak of flame and warmth brought light as it flew across the land. Flowers bloomed and ice thawed. People no longer lived in fear of the darkness. His fingers shook as he turned to the next dogeared page deeper into the book. His breath caught in his throat, seeing a blackened figure laying on the bottom of the page. They were holding a lily. The phoenix flew to the weeping boy and dropped a plain river stone in his hand. The boy looked up and asked. "What good will this do?" Tears fell down his face as he clutched the stone tight in his hands. The phoenix bowed. Golden tears dropped from its eyes and plopped onto the stone. As the tears sank into the stone, it began to change color. To the shade of crimson.

"With this," the phoenix said, it's beak remained un-moving, "you can bring her back.”

Max's hands shook as he turned the next page. Tears flooded his eyes, clouding his vision as he stared at the image. The lily was on the side as the figure sat up, beaming at him. Her bright red hair was up in a messy bun, threatening to spill out. Her dark eyes stared into his. "Max." Her voice whispered, hoarse from not being used in so long. Too long. "Mom," the boy cried out, dropping the red stone to the side as he jumped into her open arms.

Paper crinkled in his hands and the book dropped to the floor. He sniffed, wiped his nose with the back of his hand and used his arm to clear the tears threatening to drop. His eyes steadied on the leather bound journal resting on his bed. There is more than one way to raise a phoenix.

Max ducked under his bed, dragged out his satchel, and the small chest covered in dust beside it. A brass lock clinked against the wood as he pulled it out. He gently placed the chest inside his satchel. Glass clinked as he moved the strap to his shoulder. His hand reached for the leather bound book as a second thought. He held it tight as he made his way towards his door. A couple of encouraging words under his breath and a swallow of spit, he snuck out of his room, and descended down the stairs to the store below.

He winced at every creak the floorboards below him gave. Each breath he took hissed in his ears as his heartbeat drummed loudly in his chest. This was stupid, entirely stupid, so stupid. Isabel's voice, one of reason and guilt yelled at him from the deep corners of his mind. But he kept pushing as he danced around the counter, slipped through the shelves of produce, unable to read the ads even with the moonlight barely shining through, and stood, chest puffed in front of the Employee Only sign hanging by a single nail on the back room door.

Courage. Stupidity. Both? He wasn't sure what helped him to this point, but his hand grasped firmly around the door handle. The metal was cold to the touch sending chills and goosebumps up his arm. He closed his eyes. No turning back now. Isabel's voice in his head shouted in disagreement, but stupidity opened the door as courage moved his legs into the darkness.

His fingers graced the wooden shelves, grasping, clawing at the dark until his fingers thrummed against something cold. He pulled it close, dug through his satchel until his fingers found a small box. He held the box of matches in one hand and lantern in the other. Max stood still in the darkness, waiting for his eyes to make out shapes. His heartbeat drummed in his head. A large, cube mass cloaked in darkness is what he clung to first, placing the lantern on top before fingers fumbled with the matches.

Two matches, a singed finger, and a few cuss words later... The lantern flickered to life, casting shadows onto the walls around him. It glowed warm, and bright. Max placed his satchel near the door, and drummed his fingers on the wooden crate. How much noise was he willing to make in the middle of the night with his family sleeping soundly above him? He chewed his lip, breaking skin, metal cleansing his palette. It'd be, enough. He moved the lantern to the side and with a heave, some grunting, and lots of pleading under his breath mix with more cuss words, the crate was to the side of the room. With sleeves rolled, Max dug into his satchel again. Pulling out small glass jars. Herbs. Metal shavings. He pulled out the chest and flicked the lock with his fingers. Later. He dug deeper into his satchel until his fingers grasped at two thin, jagged cylinders. He frowned as he pulled it out. White dust coated his fingers as he rolled the two broken halves of chalk in his hand.

Grasping the leather bound book once again, he flipped through the pages until an image caught his eye. His gaze shifted over the pages as he tilted it towards the lantern. Following the instructions he drew four triangles on the ground, each pointing out like a compass. On two of the triangles, he added a line parallel to the bottom line. Air. Earth. He moved to the center and drew a circle as best as he could and in its center he added a dot. Sun. Gold. He frowned a the notes and then looked down at the diagram on the ground. "Symbols are symbols for a reason." Isabel's voice rang out in his head again. "Fire and water are no longer that. Fire has to point up with air and water down with earth." With the instructions in hand and Isabel's voice in his head now helping him, Max continued to draw symbols along the floor, correcting the mistakes made by the book's owner by Isabel's word.

He leaned back, chalk dust covered his arms and forehead. The white dust clung to him, refusing to let go as he brushed his hand lightly over it. The chalk marked him, just as he marked the ground. He stood and stretched his back. The hard part was done, but time was moving quickly. Too quickly. He turned to his satchel and the contents he pulled out before.

He rattled the glass jars, checking the contents with the dying light of his lantern. Quartz. Water. Dirt. Yep. Check. Got it. His eyes wandered over to the small chest, still locked. He frowned as he picked it up. It didn't need to be touching the chalk did it? He flipped through the journal again, scanning the pages quickly. His vision blurred. Doubled. He held his eyes closed and blinked. Just needed, a little longer. He suppressed the yawn building behind his jaw.

No.

Not yet.

The padlock felt cold in his hands as he shook it a little. He looked towards the center of the circle, then back to the chest. It was in the center before he gave the idea a second thought. With a roll of his shoulders and a yawn escaping on his breath he rubbed his hands together. Chalk dust floated in the air as he stood, hands pressed together. He closed his eyes. And breathed.

Max dug down deep within. He dug further and deeper until he came upon a locked box. The box had chains wrapped around it, thick with rust slowly decaying the iron. Max stood in front of the box, staring at it. In his hands, he held nothing. Until he closed his fist. Cold metal burned his hand, cutting into his palm, but he breathed and continued on. He pressed his hand against the box, felt the wood bite his hand as splinters pierced his skin. Inhale. Exhale. The key, so cold and so heavy dragged his hand to the ground. His hand ran along the chain until he found the lock. He shoved the key in, and turned it. The chain rolled off, clanging the ground as he stood. Inhale. His fingertips pushed between the lid and the box. Exhale. It gave.

The room suddenly felt...colder.

Warmth from his body was dragged away as goosebumps ran along his arms. Eyes, large and sunken watched him. He could feel the weight of their stare through his eyelids. He blinked.

Max felt his heart sink as color drained from his face. The wide, sunken eyes before him blinked. A geist. He created a geist.

Bonus:

Isabel looked between Max and the floating striped pajama clad boy beside him. "You did what ."

Max rubbed the back of his neck as he avoided her gaze. "His name is PJ." PJ waved and grinned at her. "Hello!" She squished her cheeks and dragged her hands down. "You...brought me another idiot boy to deal with?" She leaned forward, eyes glaring into his soul, "I've already got three other boys to deal with other than you Maxwell. I don't need a fifth ."

#paranatural #pnat #paranaturalsecretsanta #maxwell puckett #glow writes #pnatss #gonna be gone next few days so like its a bit early

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