but i tried for you simon

“What you are is a fucking tragedy, Simon Snow. You literally couldn’t be a bigger mess.“
He tries to kiss me, but I pull back- "And you like that?”
“I love it.” He says
“Why?”
“Because we match.”

Rainbow Rowell, Carry On

2x08 summary- Magnus’ POV

Alec: I need you to throw my brothers rune ceremony

Magnus:

Jace: I know you had sex with my brother, I felt it

Magnus:

Maryse: I heard you liked to drink

Magnus:

Max: *freaked out* How much of you is a demon?

Magnus:

Clary: I hate Simon! I’m leaving this party

Magnus:

Jace: Maryse just tried to kill me! Look at the non-existent axe in the wall!

Magnus:

Iris: *steals Magnus’ spell book*

Magnus:

Raj: I wanted to know if you were up for a threesome

Magnus:

Clary and Jace: Clary can make runes and has pure angel blood that could potential destroy the whole downworld but we wanted to be secretive

Magnus:

Shadowhunters: *exist*

Magnus:

prejudice in fantasy lit and the use of metaphor

reallybigshadowhunterstvfan said:

what can you say about making Simon a shadowhunter, Mrs Clare? it seemed odd to me that after a whole series of battling for equality between species/races, the downworlder had to become a shadowhunter. not only he basically ceased being a minority, he also became a part of a privileged community, and it just didn’t sit well with me.

Just for the record — I’m not Mrs. Clare; there is no Mr. Clare. I am married, but my pen name is not my husband’s property. :-) 

I think this is a very interesting question that brings up a ton of issues, but there are some aspects of it I’d love to clarify — for instance, I am puzzled at calling Simon “the Downworlder.” Is he more a Downworlder than Magnus? Things like that actually are really important when discussing stories — if he were the only Downworlder in the story, that would be one discussion, but he isn’t, and therefore his story does not speak for the experience of all Downworlders or even a small fraction. 

I am sorry you were surprised negatively by Simon’s story in TMI. Simon never wanted to be a vampire — he always hated it, and unlike Raphael and Lily, he never joined the community of vampires but instead spent all his time with Shadowhunters. Being a Daylighter had already changed him from being any kind of regular Downworlder, as did bearing the Mark of Cain: both made him even less “the Downworlder” and more of an anomaly. It also separated him from the other Downworlders, who treated him with distrust. In my experience, very few readers expected Simon to remain a vampire, given that it was something he never wanted or got used to, and that it was not his dream. More on that in a bit.

As to the question, to me the suggestion that Shadowhunters are “the privileged” and Dowworlders are as a block “the marginalized” — instead of being a complicated metaphor in which they sometimes but not always stand in for people who have had their rights curtailed —  overly simplifies the situation. It is an argument seems to ignore the fact that in fact, humans exist along axes of privilege and marginalization: that people can be privileged in one way and marginalized in another and that when Simon becomes first a Downworlder and then a mundane and then a Shadowhunter, he is not moving clearly from marginalization to privilege, but rather exchanging some types of privilege for others (he remains white as a Downworlder, and is a Daylighter), and exchanging some types of marginalization for others (the marginalization of being a Downworlder for the marginalization of being a mundane-born Shadowhunter and a Jew in a world where Shadowhunters are meant to have one religion). 

Because the argument disclaims spectrums of privilege and marginalization, it also suggests that the world of the Shadowhunter Chronicles is one in which there are no gay or POC or trans people in existence; one in which there is no racism, homophobia, ableism, cis privilege, or bigotry against the neuroatypical. But that is both problematic erasure, and also not true of these books. Downworlders don’t stand in for people of color or LGBTQ+ people because people of color and LGBTQ+ people are in the books; they have not been subsumed into metaphor. (I know the showrunners said there was no homophobia in the Shadowhunter world, only warlock-phobia, but that’s the show, not the books, and it has a different world and world-building. I notice this is a question I get since the show came out, and I sometimes wonder if it’s a question of confusion between the two different universes? It’s easy for that to happen.)

Fantasy prejudice metaphors are complex and confusing and they rarely work as a one to one comparison (in other words, there is a difference between saying that this fantasy situation is reminiscent of this real world thing and saying this fantasy situation is exactly the same as this real world thing. For instance, one of the really interesting things about True Blood is that it made many deliberate parallels between “vampire rights” and GLBT+ rights — referring to vampires “coming out of the coffin” and “God Hates Fangs” on church signs. However, its vampires were also often violent predators who killed and ate people. The argument that Simon “basically ceased being a minority” (while, somehow, remaining Jewish) is similar to making an argument that True Blood was saying that gay people kill and eat their neighbors; I’m fairly sure in fact, they weren’t. They were reaching for a resonance — the echo of a real world situation that would give a layer of relatability and meaning to their points about difference. But they were not creating a literal “these things are the same” comparison or they wouldn’t have had vampires chewing off people’s heads.

So: are Downworlders discriminated against? Yes, sometimes, by Shadowhunters, who are a small specific group. Do they “stand in” for a specific minority group? No, they cannot, because they are accessible as a metaphor to any marginalized group or groups whose rights have been abridged. Also: the world at large does not discriminate against Downworlders because they do not know they exist, nor do they privilege Shadowhunters because they don’t know they exist either. It would be one thing if this was a high fantasy and Shadowhunters and Downworlders were all there was, but these books are set in our world, and the characters experience real-world bigotry, racism, homophobia etc. because of it.

Alec sighed. “Sorry to wreck your vision of our happy family. I know you want to think Dad’s fine with me being gay, but he’s not.” 

“But if you don’t tell  me when people say things like that to you, or do things to hurt you, then how can I help you?” Simon could feel Isabelle’s agitation vibrating through her body. “How can I—” 

“Iz,” Alec said tiredly. “It’s not like it’s one big bad thing. It’s a lot of little invisible things. When Magnus and I were traveling, and I’d call from the road, Dad never asked how he was. When I get up to talk in Clave meetings, no one listens, and I don’t know if that’s because I’m young or if it’s because of something else. I saw Mom talking to a friend about her grandchildren and the second I walked into the room they shut up. Irina Cartwright told me it was a pity no one would ever inherit my blue eyes now.” He shrugged and looked toward Magnus, who took a hand off the wheel for a moment to place it on Alec’s. “It’s not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It’s a million little paper cuts every day.”

 *** 

“He hurt you. It was a long time ago, and I know he tried to make up for it, but—” Bat shrugged. “Maybe I’m not so forgiving.” 

Maia exhaled. “Maybe I’m not either,” she said. “The town I grew up in, all these spoiled thin rich white girls, they made me feel like crap because I didn’t look like them. When I was six, my mom tried to throw me a Barbie-themed birthday party. They make a black Barbie, you know, but they don’t make any of the stuff that goes with her—party supplies and cake toppers and all that. So we had a party for me with a blonde doll as the theme, and all these blonde girls came, and they all giggled at me behind their hands.”

***

If we carry the theory through (Shadowhunters are THE privileged, Downworlders are THE marginalized) that means that Alec, as a gay Shadowhunter, is more privileged than Simon, a straight vampire. That Ty, who would be locked in a mental institution if the Clave discovered his autism, is privileged beyond white, rich, immortal and powerful Malcolm Fade. It’s saying that when Cristina encounters a wealthy, white, straight, misogynist male werewolf in Lady Midnight who tries to force sexual attention on her, she, a Latina woman, is the one who is the privileged character because she is a Shadowhunter and he is a Downworlder (though Sterling has arguably, given that he lives outside the supernatural world, never experienced a whit of prejudice because of it.) So I’m sure you can see where the problem lies.

It also erases Simon’s Judaism entirely. Stating without caveat that Simon has become “part of a privileged community” means ignoring the fact that Simon is Jewish; that he decides in Tales that he will continue to practice, and that he was the only Jewish protag written by two Jewish authors that I’m aware of having been on the bestseller lists last year. He didn’t think about being a vampire as he was preparing to transform — he never wanted to be one or consented to be one, nor was he part of the community, as Raphael constantly pointed out — though he does later think of having previously been a Downworlder when interacting with vampires and Shadowhunter prejudices. He thought of the important thing to him: his Judaism, which he both couldn’t and wouldn’t give up. To me it is personally painful to think that for any reader, Simon’s status as a vampire is more significant than his status as a practicing Jew.

I think sometimes it is possible to invest yourself so heavily in a metaphor that you forget the real world that surrounds the metaphor and the flexibility of metaphors in general. The Shadowhunter/Downworlder situation could stand in for the systemically privileged and marginalized of our world: sometimes it does. However it also can stand in for the way totalitarian governments abuse their own people: there are echoes in Shadowhunter history and current events of the Cambodian genocide, of Stalinist violence against intellectuals and resistors. There are also echoes of police brutality — what Shadowhunters have is the privilege of the Law, specifically: the Law is what allows them to enact bigotry in the name of justice, and when they abuse their jobs, it has resonances of the way police can abuse their jobs and use the privilege conferred on them by their authority to murder and abuse the helpless and marginalized. There are also echoes of the way soldiers carry out immoral orders given by superiors: the Shadowhunters are taught to be obedient to the Clave, and one of the ways we know who our Team Good is in any TSC series that they question that obedience. All of these are echoes and resonances: they are not saying that the Shadowhunters are the police, or the US military, or the Khmer Rouge; the resonances provide context and hopefully add a sense of realism to a situation that is fantastical in its nature.

 (It’s also a wise idea not to so totally buy what the Shadowhunters are selling about themselves. They think they’re special and better and awesome, but the books constantly question and problematize that. Shadowhunters also pay a high high price for their runes and their sense of superiority: they die young and often and experience brutal constant violence and the pressures of a repressive society that allows for little divergence from an idealized norm.)

There are reasons that the Downworlders were never constructed to be a specific marginalized group and their situation was never meant to be limited in its relatability to one situation— for instance, it’s very hard to not look askance at the argument that Downworlders are meant to be specific “race” when you can become a Downworlder and then stop being one: when you can, as Simon does, change what kind of magical creature you are, because there is absolutely no correlation between that and what race or ethnicity means in our world. 

 So yes, Simon becomes a Shadowhunter: however, what I don’t see acknowledged here is not just his ethnicity and religion, but the fact that he becomes a Shadowhunter partly because he is aware of the prejudice of Shadowhunters, and fights against the bigotry they show not just to Downworlders but also to their own. He is part of Magnus and Alec’s Shadowhunter-Downworlder Alliance. He continues to work for change from within the system, arguably something almost no one else could do, because there are almost no other Downworlders who have become Shadowhunters. It is odd to me to consider Simon as simply ascending to a height of blithe privilege when he is fact much more like someone who has become a police officer in order to root out corruption and racism in the police, and brings his own knowledge of marginalization (which he still experiences) with him.

That is why Simon in Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy is constantly fighting and bending the rules in the name of his evolving social conscience, though I understand if you haven’t read TfTSA. One of the things about having had a flood of new readers enter fandom because of the TV show is that I’ve seen a lot of arguments based on the idea that TMI is the entire story of Downworlders and Shadowhunters, or the entire story of these characters. I see people talking about characters getting a happy or sad ending in TMI even when those characters go on to feature heavily in the sequel books and could by no reasonable account be considered to have any ending, happy or sad — unless you thought TMI were the only Shadowhunters books that existed rather than a chunk of a larger ongoing mythology. In no sense has Simon’s story ended: you have no idea if he will remain a Shadowhunter or not. Perhaps if you consider the fact that TMI is not a story that has ended for Simon, but rather one that continues, the fact that he has now been two magical species and might well move on to become another will sit less poorly with you? After all, this is not “after a whole series of battling for equality between species/races” this is “in the middle of a whole series of battling for equality between species/races.” Usually the middle of a story isn’t the place it’s best to draw all your conclusions from. :-) 

anonymous asked:

snowbaz soulmates au where the ink you write on your skin appears on your soulmate's skin and vice versa

Okay, I really let my imagination run away with my words here. :D I really love this trope. But what if we took this a step further? What if, instead of soul mates, this was actually a spell that could be used to communicate with someone from far away?

Sometime around seventh year, this spell is taught in Magickal Words. And you get forced with a partner to learn it. Baz and Simon get partnered up, of course. And Simon botches the spell and makes it relatively permanent.


At first, neither of them really do anything about it. Simon might occasionally draw a stupid face or something on his arm just to piss off Baz. But Baz makes certain to no longer make notes to himself on his skin. It’s like this for almost a month. Until Simon goes on a mission for the Mage, and he receives dozens of cuts all over his arm and a few across his chest. It isn’t until he’s checking his cuts on his way back that he notices something written on his wrist.

Snow. Are you hurt?

Simon is really confused by this at first. Because why on earth would Baz be writing to him when he never has before? He immediately searches for a pen.

I’m fine, he writes back. Why? His handwriting is atrocious compared to Baz’s.

Suddenly, all these small arrows start appearing on Simon’s skin, each one pointing to his cuts. He looks under his shirt at his chest; there are some there, too.

I’m covered in scars, appears underneath his writing.

Fuck. It suddenly makes sense. He must have really fucked up the spell, and now Baz is getting all these marks on his skin where Simon’s cuts are.

I was cut, Simon writes. Do they hurt you?

Not much, Baz writes back. Be careful next time.

Simon doesn’t write back. He doesn’t know what to say. They don’t speak about it at all when he gets back. Nothing happens again until a few weeks later, over Christmas break.

Simon is sitting on his bed at Watford, trying to enjoy the quiet, when a large scar appears along the side of his neck and over his collarbone. He doesn’t notice it immediately, but begins to feel a burning sensation there. It isn’t until he goes into the bathroom to shower that he sees it. It terrifies him to see such a scar that large. He immediately runs out of the bathroom and grabs a pen.

Baz, what happened?    

Dueling. The reply is almost instant.

With who?

My father.

Did you lose?

Yes.

This almost makes Simon shiver. Baz so easily admitting defeat. In the form of one beautifully written word on his skin.

Simon walks back to the bathroom and stares at the scar in the mirror. It still burns. Burns like magick. Baz must have been hit pretty hard to have a scar left like this. He traces it up and down, wondering what it must look like against Baz’s grey skin.

Does it hurt? Came another set of words on the back of his hand.

It burns, Simon writes. Are you in pain?

I can handle it, forms along his right hand. Simon snorts at this. Of course Baz would be ambidextrous. Simon searches along his arm for a place to write but it’s all full of words. He then looks down at his legs. He’s wearing boxers, so he can write there. He’s not sure if Baz will see it immediately, but he decides to write there anyway.

I’m not left-handed, Baz, he writes. And then because of the extra space on his leg, he adds, I can’t write on my right arm.

So you decide to write on your leg instead? Idiotic, Snow. The reply appears on Simon’s leg, right under his own words. And it was almost instant again. Simon tries not to wonder if Baz is actually wearing pants at this moment.

You wrote on your own leg too, Simon writes.

To prove a point that it’s idiotic.

How is it idiotic if you’re doing it too?

There isn’t an instant reply this time, and Simon realizes they’ve written all the way from his knee cap to the top of his thigh. Something they could only do if they’re both not wearing pants. Simon really tries not to think about it.


(I don’t know what this was, I’m sorry. But maybe I’ll turn it into a real fic one day :D)

anonymous asked:

Wouldn't he have had the opportunity to end all the stunts without having to sign with Syco? Couldn't he have simply waited until the contract with Simon expired? Now he's stuck with a label whose main goal has been to closet him and make his life a living hell.

1. When would the contract end? Would it? Which contract? I don’t know how many times I have tried to explain that contracts don’t have to have an end date.

2. Would he have had an opportunity even if the contract “ended”? Really? You know that for sure? No other lingering obligations? No NDAs? Just, contract ends and he can do what he wants?

3. Is he stuck? Really? Or did he negotiate from a place of power and end up the biggest fish in their pond?

4. Is it the label’s goal to do that? Or Simon’s? Does Simon still have control? How do you know this?

Look, I have no love for Syco and the team has been shit for the last several months, but we don’t know what’s coming. We don’t know what deals were made. I trust Louis to have made the right choice, whether it’s the choice that had to be made to achieve long term goals or the choice to get what he wants right now. But the biggest thing I trust is my ability NOT TO JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS AND ASSUME I KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON AND WHAT’S BEST FOR LOUIS.

How’s Your Throat? (M)

Pairing: Simon Dominic x Reader
Warnings: ???
A/N: I started this months ago for a request but then things went left and I couldn’t write for a good month or so.  Mianhae to whoever requested this story.  I tried, yet failed.


Have you ever been backstage at an AOMG concert?  No?  Well, it is just as crazy as you can imagine.  Someone will end up chasing someone or they’ll be arguing over something stupid and/or irrelevant.  And please whatever you do, do NOT mention the NFL or the Seahawks.  Unless you want to hear Jay go on and on about the strength behind the 12th man.  

Keep reading

Two can play at this game

April Fools’ Day… the Snowbaz possibilities are endless. Also: @snowbaz-feda looks great and everyone should go check it out


March 31.

BAZ:

‘What did you do to him?’

Snow’s girlfriend has followed me out of the dining hall, her hands on her hips and her pretty eyes glaring.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I say, arching one eyebrow, and it’s true; I have no fucking clue what she’s on about, except that it’s about Snow. Everything is about Snow.

‘So this isn’t your doing?’ Her eyes are still squinted suspiciously.

‘Sadly, I can’t take credit for whatever has befallen Snow, but I’d love to hear about it.’ I pretend that I’m not worried. I tell myself that I’m glad if he’s hurt.

She huffs. ‘Just stay away from him, Baz.’

‘That’s going to be difficult, given that we share a room,’ I drawl. I suppose it’s no use telling her that I can never get far enough away from him. (I can never get close enough, either.)

‘I’m serious. I know you’re enemies and all, but that’s just politics. If you break his heart I swear Penelope will curse you so hard you’ll still be screaming from across the Veil. Hell, I’ll even do it myself.’ She’s practically spitting fire at this point.

‘Wellbelove, what the fuck are you on about?’

She sighs and crosses her arms. ‘Simon broke up with me.’

I try to squash down the hopeful feeling in my chest. It’s not like this is going to do me any good. (Anything is possible). (No, not this.)

‘My condolences,’ I say drily. ‘Or perhaps I should deliver them to Snow.’

‘He broke up with me because of you,’ she snaps. ‘Because of his feelings for you.’

‘Excuse me?’ I try not to let it show on my face. How fast my heart is beating. How much I want this to be true.

‘Just don’t use this to hurt him,’ she insists. ‘That would be low, even for you. Just leave him alone.’

‘Sorry, I’m still stuck on the part where you said Snow has feelings for me?’ My voice sounds too high.

‘Yeah, well, so am I,’ Wellbelove mutters. ‘I mean it, Baz. Don’t hurt him.’

‘What makes you think I can?’ Either Wellbelove is mistaken, or I must be hallucinating. Snow can’t have feelings for me. Snow hates me. He thinks I’m every kind of evil he’s ever known.

‘Because he told me,’ she says. ‘He says he’s in love with you, and I sure hope for his sake that it’s not true. I know you don’t think I’m much of a threat but I promise you, if you hurt someone I care about, I’ll fucking end you.’

‘Right,’ I say. I’m not scared of Wellbelove, but the way she’s looking at me right now, maybe I judged her too quickly. I want to tell her that she doesn’t need to worry, because I’m so in love with Simon Snow that even on good days I think it’s going to kill me, and all of this sounds way too good to be true.

‘I mean it,’ she says, and turns to walk away.

‘Noted,’ I manage to choke out, and now that her back is turned, I let the mask fall. I’m standing rooted to the spot staring after her with what must be a completely shell-shocked look on my face and – Aleister fucking Crowley.

Simon Snow can’t be in love with me. It’s impossible. It’s brilliant.

I look back through the door to the dining hall, and I see Wellbelove walk back to her table, and I realise Snow has been watching for her to come back.

Wait. There’s something I’m missing.

Why would she tell me that Snow has feelings for me, if she thinks I’m going to use it to hurt him?

And then I remember. Today is the last day of March. And that means tomorrow…

I draw in a sharp breath. It feels like I’ve been kicked in the gut. Fuck him. I fucking believed her, even if it was just for a minute. Fuck him for doing this to me. I want to march in there and drag him out of his chair and beat the living daylights out of him (I don’t. I don’t want to hurt him). I want to break down and cry, right here in front of the entire school. Natasha Pitch’s son, the vampire, a heartbroken, sobbing mess.

Alright. Fine, Snow. Fucking fine.

Two can play at this game.


Keep reading

My interpretation of Sign of the Times Lyrics

With Harry’s blessing that we can interpret his work in the way we see it.

I have thought about the lyrics of the song, and  am going to give my interpretation of the lyrics and the changes in Harry’s vocal range. So please listen and read the lyrics at the same time. I’m also going to look at the themes Harry has explored before in relation to being trapped and caged, the freedom of birds and flying, and I am also going to explore closeting.

Above all, I want to say I see this song as being about a couple. Harry speaks with the term “we” a lot - subconsciously he is half of a whole. A couple. I believe Harry is absolutely in love with Louis and this song is about their battle against the Iron Closet. I believe it is a pre-coming out song. I believe it is a warning to the OT and an announcement that Louis and Harry are going to come out with the biggest fanfare possible.

So here goes!

Just stop your crying
It’s a sign of the times
Welcome to the final show
Hope you’re wearing your best clothes

I take this first as Harry and Louis being told to stop complaining, stop crying - they know their situation. It is what it is. I can hear the voice of Simon Cowell, Henry Magee and Richard Griffiths saying this.

And the promise each time this will be the last time you’ll have to pretend - the stunts - put on your best clothes (note, this song is absolutely gender neutral). Each promise that this “show” of being heterosexual and pretending they weren’t together and then they wouldn;t need to do it again but…..

You can’t bribe the door on your way to the sky

You can’t bribe the door - however many times they tried to trade to get more freedom, it never worked. You can’t bribe that door to freedom.

I see this as so subversive. The sky is the limit but it also reminds me of Harry;s many bird tattoos and the birdcage and butterfly. The door was closed. The door was closed by management. They were trapped like birds in a cage. Their iron closet. I interpret the sky and flying as freedom - and seeing Harry flying in the video reminds me of If I Could Fly. And Harry’s one wish when he was 18 years old. 

If you could wish for anything in the world…..”

“Freedom.”

And so I do think the theme of flying, escape, getting away in Sign of the Times follows on from Harry’s writing in If I Could Fly and Happily, and Walking in the Wind and looking at Ready To Run. The birds of freedom - flying and wings and escaping that Birdcage - La Cage aux Folles.

You look pretty good down here

But you ain’t really good

That line “But you ain’t really good” is the most understated but also jarring line in a song I’ve ever heard. It hit me that this could be Harry’s pre-coming out anthem. That he has heard that so often. You look good as you are. Here is your image, Harry. This is how you shuld look - what you really are isn;t good. That teenager in love with his bandmate who just wants to hold his hand and kiss him - bad bad bad.

But you ain’t really good.” - you can hear those people saying it to Harry and Louis.

And that is the end of the first quieter part sung in Harry’s chest voice - the end of that sarcastic quiet patronising tone he and Louis heard for so many years.

The next part is in his beautiful falsetto which I believe represents their trapped situation like trapped birds  - I see this as the private complementation between Harry and Louis of their trapped situation which seemed to never end. “We never learn, we been here before”. 7 years of promises and being told what was right for them and what was wrong about them. 

Just note how his voice changes from the chest voice to this striking falsetto - it’s a different voice. It’s a different situation. To me, it is Harry and Louis in the past 7 years.

We never learn, we been here before
Why are we always stuck and running from
The bullets, the bullets?
We never learn, we been here before
Why are we always stuck and running from
The bullets, the bullets?

We never learn, we been here before - my heart breaks every time on that line. So many promises. So many times they appeared to be close to freedom then they were shit further in the closet.

Why……. indeed. Why are they always stuck and trying to escape the next bullet - the next attack fired at them? The smearings, the stunts, the punishments, separation, each attack trying to wound and kill them - destroy them.

And this verse is sung twice. Because Harry is half of a whole which two people. HarryandLouis. LouisandHarry. You don’t get Harry without Louis and you don’t get Louis without Harry. So it’s sung twice because it is Harry AND Louis. Both halves of the whole in their trapped situation together.

(Basically, this is a masterpiece)

Just stop your crying
It’s a sign of the times
We gotta get away from here
We gotta get away from here
Just stop your crying
It’ll be alright
They told me that the end is near
We gotta get away from here

Harry’s voice changes again in this verse. He returns to his chest voice, and this is a powerful uplifting voice. This is Louis in Just Hold On. If it all goes wrong, darling just hold on. We’ll be alright. This is the times they’ve been told it’s not the last thing but the end is NEAR (note it goes backwards from the the final show to now being The end is NEAR).

The two lines “We gotta get away from here” - I see as Harry who wrote IICF and Happily. Harry who quoted Come Away With Me in March 2016 amidst Babygate. He wanted to escape. But he was supported by the one person who said they could keep going  - it will end soon.

Harry’s voice changes again ever so subtly back to the tone of the first two verses next and we are back to that  patronising voice who told them to be quiet and enjoy the situation..

Just stop your crying
Have the time of your life
Breaking through the atmosphere
And things are pretty good from here

I see this verse as - It’s pretty good from here - this situation you have. You are multi millionaires, have millions of fans, the world is your oyster if you stick with the plan. Enjoy it. Have the time of your life. You can hear TPTB saying it. The patronising talks over the years. Breaking through the atmosphere - the fakeness, the tension, the lies, - the distorted image of the atmosphere that prevented them from reaching the sky or freedom.

And those Powers That Be at the top saying things are pretty good. So enjoy it. And Harry and Louis have repeated this to themselves so much. Things are pretty good as they are. It’s a sign of the times. It is what it is. 

Remember, everything will be alright
We can meet again somewhere
Somewhere far away from here

To me, this is that strong couple knowing it won’t always be like this. They won’t always be trapped. They will not always be separated, made to not look at each other in public. We can meet again on our own…..somewhere safe away from the cameras and the public. This is between the couple. They are so strong.

Then we have the beautiful falsetto and that ongoing repeated trapped situation of Harry and Louis (this is why it is repeated, it’s their neverending trapped vicious circle)

We never learn, we been here before
Why are we always stuck and running from
The bullets, the bullets?
We never learn, we been here before
Why are we always stuck and running from
The bullets, the bullets?

And back to Harry’s chest voice - the couple together. The repeat of “It’s a sign of the times” as they have been brainwashed to thinking. 

Just stop your crying
It’s a sign of the times
We gotta get away from here
We gotta get away from here
Just stop your crying
Baby, it will be alright
They told me that the end is near

To me, the repeat of “We gotta get away from here”  is again because this is two halves of a whole. “Baby, it’s alright” sounds so much like the lyrics in Home and Strong. Harry even sings “Baby, we could be enough.” Louis has called Harry “Baby”. It’s their term of endearment. Harry is Louis’ baby. And Louis is Harry’s baby.

Back to the falsetto - the trapped situation of the vicious circle they cannot escape from. The attacks from those bullets.

We never learn, we been here before
Why are we always stuck and running from
The bullets, the bullets?
We never learn, we’ve been here before
Why are we always stuck and running from
The bullets, the bullets?

And then we have a change in Harry’s voice as he is rising to the climax of the song. This is the point when we I feel he is saying this is the time to stop. They have kept going in the same situation and accepting because it’s what they know.

We don’t talk enough
We should open up
Before it’s all too much
Will we ever learn?
We’ve been here before
It’s just what we know

To me, this IS the point of change. The language changes from being told by the person in the past and repeating what they said. Now, Harry says We don’t talk enough - they have been essentially silenced - their love is spoken through the canvas of heir bodies by their tattoos which scream out Harry and Louis’ love for each other.

“We should open up

Before it’s all too much”

And that says it all. Harry Styles is not going to be silenced on his love for Louis Tomlinson. They are not going to be beaten. 

This verse also has an interesting change in the phrasing from “We never learn” to asking “Will we ever learn?” And he answers why they haven’t learnt before. Because “ we’ve been here before, It’s just what we know.” It is what it is. It’s a sign of the times. They got accustomed to living in that trapped situation of promises and being let down. They had an amazing life except for not being able to be free to be themselves and show they love each other.

The final verse is that climax with Harry’s voice showing its power - its strength. It is life affirming. They have made their decision. This is Harry’s warning. Harry and Louis are not going to run away from those bullets anymore. They are going to talk. They are going to open up.

This is the point that Harry’s voice takes full volume and sounds enough strength for two people. We have got to - got to - away…. they have to be free. .

Stop your crying, baby
It’s a sign of the times
We gotta get away
We got to get away
We got to get away
We got to get away
We got to get away
We got to—we got to—away
We got to—we got to—away
We got to—we got to—away

I believe there is hope in that final verse. This is the warning that Harry and Louis are coming out. They are not staying trapped in that cage any longer.

Harry and Louis have got to get away. Together. And i believe they will get away together.

And again, reflecting the fact this is a couple who think and behave together, we have the repetition because this two people who make a whole. Soulmates.

Harry has opened that door to the light and he has washed away the vile grubby nasty things he has been told about himself and Louis over the years. He is sharing this baby with the world in more ways than one.

In his video he is flying over the Isle of Skye - over the sea. Freedom.

And, hearing how happy and relaxed, how giggly and positive Harry has sounded in his interviews, I do believe this song is his gay anthem on his experience with Louis of their forced closeting, being trapped like two birds who couldn’t sing and soar.

I believe that cage has is opening and they will soon be free to speak, to sing, to hold hands, to fly and soar together.

Freedom. Together.

Voice-Over (Miniminter x Reader)

Request: Hi! Can you do a Simon imagine where y/n is a beauty youtuber or something like that and he does her voiceover for a video please!

A/N: I don’t really watch makeup videos so I’m sorry it took so long and if it’s not super accurate

Originally posted by ultsdmn


(Y/n) spun lazily in her chair as she scrolled through her contacts looking for one of her YouTuber guy friends that would be up at this hour. She was supposed to have this video out yesterday but there was a problem with the audio when she tried to record with her microphone.

“Hey, Simon?” (Y/n) asked, putting the phone up to her ear.

“Hey, (y/n). What’s up? And why are you up? It’s 4 in the morning.”

“Could ask the same to you, but I was wondering if you could help me with a video really quick.”

“How can I help? I know nothing about makeup.”

“That’s kinda the point.” (Y/n) said laughing. She could hear Simon sighing and rubbing his face. “You don’t have to put makeup on anyone. Don’t worry.”

“Thank God.”

“I’m able to come over right?”

“Always.”

~

(Y/n) pulled her phone out of her pocket as she pulled into Simon’s driveway. She parked behind Vik’s car and texted Simon that she was there. (Y/n) shut the car door and made her way up the front walk. If she was quiet enough and really listened for it, she could hear some of Simon’s friends recording and yelling over games and pack openings. She cradled her laptop in her arms as the door opened, engulfing her in warmth. She forgot how nervous she got around Simon in person…

“Hey.” Simon said stepping aside and gesturing his arm for her to come inside. “What can I help you with?”

“Okay so my microphone isn’t working and I need to do a voiceover for a video I was supposed to have out yesterday. But-”
“Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“I thought you’d be busy!”

“Busy doing what? I can make time for you.”

“Stop it! I want you to do the voiceover though. That’s the thing.” (Y/n) said trying to change the subject quickly. Her hands were shaking.

“Oh God. I said I don’t know anything about makeup!” Simon said slouching slightly as he began walking towards the stairs.

“I know! But it’s kind of a thing on YouTube right now for beauty vloggers to have their boyfr - guy friends - do voice overs for their videos.” (Y/n) said catching herself suddenly as she followed Simon to his room. He laughed slightly.

“You were going to say boyfriend.”

“I mean that’s what it usually is. I just don’t- yeah. You know what? Let’s just drop it.” (Y/n) said feeling sudden dejection.

“Sorry,” Simon said sitting down in his chair, reaching out his hand for (y/n)’s laptop. “So I just need to get this straight before I do it. You want me to watch the video and narrate what I think is going on even if I have no real idea?”

“Exactly.”

“Great casting choice. Let me tell you.” Simon said before taking a drink of water and pressing record. (Y/n) sat down on the edge of Simon’s bed, trying not to laugh at the mocking voice he was using.

~

Simon pressed the stop button and turned around with a bewildered face. “You look like you just fought in a war.” (Y/n) said laughing.

“I did! How do you do that? It looks so complicated!”

“It’s really not. It just takes practice.”

“What do you want me to do with the audio file?” Simon said breathlessly.

“Can you just email it to me? I gotta edit it and schedule it and that stuff.”
“I gottcha.” Simon said typing on his computer before (y/n) stood up to take her laptop and leave, “Y-you know you can stay. If-if you want.”

“What?”

“You can stay here.”

“Like for the night or until I finish editing?” (Y/n) asked hesitantly.

“Either.”

“Are you sure?”

~

(Y/n) was still editing and running through the video even after Simon had gotten into bed. He watched from beside her as she clicked around the screen making sure the audio was synced up before she exported the video, set the thumbnail, and gave the title and description.
She was in the midst of typing ‘Day to Night Look | Miniminter Does My Voiceover’ when Simon interrupted her.

“Wait. Change that.”

“Change what?”

“Instead of miniminter.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. It’s just that if you want to change it to boyfriend, I wouldn’t complain.”

a couple little things that pop up whenever i think about simon and jace and kissing:

  • mostly they kiss with their mouths closed because simon’s highkey nervous of accidentally hurting jace. simon’s characteristically considerate, careful, but it’s so easy to lose himself in jace that it happens, sometimes, and simon always moves away with a worried, “sorry, sorry! are you okay? oh God,” the second jace gasps from somewhere deep in his lungs. even though jace always tries to pull him back with, “no, fuck, get back here,” it takes an embarrassingly long time for simon to catch on to the fact that jace’s gasps are accompanied by his toes curling and his fingernails scratching at simon’s back and jace is into it, the thrill of running his tongue along the edges of simon’s fangs and getting to that trace of venom that always lingers.
  • simon kisses jace’s runes every chance he gets and asks, “and what does this one do?” jace maybe answered truthfully once, the very first time, but now he lies every time because it makes simon’s dimples deepen into a smile when jace says ridiculous things like, “this makes me fly,” and, “this one lets me read your mind.” simon laughs and says, “what am i thinking right now, then?” and jace, of course, quips an awful line like, “obviously how much you want me,” and simon presses his mouth to the rune (it’s actually the one for speed) and says, “nuh-uh, try again with something that isn’t always true.”
  • jace does get this overwhelming need to kiss simon when he’s rambling but it’s not to get him to be quiet - it’s because when simon’s going off about something his eyes are bright and his smile is wide and it hits jace one day that simon talks so much around him because he just wants jace to know what’s going through his mind and when affection overtakes your heart the way it does with jace when he hears simon talk so freely the only thing you can do is kiss them, to abate that pressure in your chest just a little. “are you trying to shut me up?” asks simon, and jace just kisses the frown on his face one more time. “as if i ever could,” he says, shaking his head, “what happened next?” 
Maid For A Day - Dave Hodgman

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Dave Hodgman/Reader

Word Count: 4345

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (both receiving in a way), Master Kink

Notes: I blame Persona 5 for this idea. It was just a funny idea and I can see Dave’s friends trying to get him laid. This is kinda just pure silliness that leads to fucking a hot guy.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

"Snow, you know that is /my/ bed you're lying on."

“No, it’s my bed,” Simon protested, trying to shove me away with his flailing, golden, drunk arms. 

I tried to convince him that that was, in fact, my bed, but I had a feeling I’d ingested quite a few pints myself, so I just fell into the sheets beside him and tried to ignore the fact that Simon bloody Snow was pressed up against my side and was warm, warm, warm. 

When I woke up, I felt Simon’s laugh before I heard it, and I asked him what was so funny. 

“We argued over whose bed this was.”

Slowly, I blinked my eyes open, my gaze drifting over to Simon’s grinning face and remembered, oh yeah, we’re married.


Send me the first line of a fic and I’ll write the next five!

Beauty and the Beast AU

I really liked the idea of doing a Carry On Beauty and the Beast AU after seeing the movie. After seeing @ace-artemis-fanartist do this AMAZING fanart AU version I decided to go for it! Let me know if your interested in this becoming chaptered :) The next chapters are available here: 2 3

Simon

The castle loomed darkly against the grey sky, a shadowy figure in the crisp wilderness. Simon shivered lightly in the cold weather, rubbing his arms against the wind. He wasn’t sure why he had come here; it wasn’t like he actually owed his father anything. But he had tracked him to this desolate place and felt the familiar need to keep his father close to him.

His footsteps crunching in the snow were the only audible sound. The place was incredibly eerie, even if it was beautiful. He had no idea what his father was doing in a place like this or why he hadn’t reached out to him. But it seemed dangerous; Simon’s magic swirled close to the surface of his skin.

As he reached the doorway he paused. Something told him that once he entered this place he would not come back the same. If he wanted to, he could walk away, let his father conduct his strange business in this creepy castle, and return to life in the village. Agatha was waiting for him there with a thousand promises in her brown eyes. There were a million reasons for him to walk away.

He took a deep breath and pushed the heavy doors open. His heart beat rapidly as he waited for something to jump out at him. As the seconds ticked by though, he noticed that the entryway was empty. With a frown, he stepped through the threshold. 

The room was dank, as if it hadn’t seen sunlight in many years. As he stepped further into the castle he noticed a large sitting area to his left. Seemingly on its own accord, the fireplace lit up with bright orange flames. Simon jumped back a step and put his hand over the hilt of his sword. But nobody attacked him from behind the large fireplace. 

Simon had been raised around magic his whole life, loved it even, yet he felt there was something wrong about this place. It was as if the castle dripped in something heavy, a kind of twisted magic hung in the air. 

“Look Niall! I told you he would come!” He heard someone hiss behind him.

Simon froze, trying to appear as if he hadn’t heard the voice.

“Oh, shut up Dev!” Another voice whispered.

Simon whipped around, sure that he would discover who was speaking and found himself utterly confused. Behind him, on the stairs, lay a clock and candelabra, as if left there by mistake. 

“What in Merlin…” Simon muttered.

The place was starting creep him out. Figuring it would be useful in the dark space, Simon picked up the candelabra and started up the grand staircase. The castle was obviously quite large and, in its own eerie way, very grand; but Simon could not understand what it was doing in the middle of the woods. Had his father, deluded by his own power, built a castle in forested isolation to pretend to be king? Simon had to admit that it was not that big of a stretch for his father. It didn’t, however, explain the strange whispering. Or the dark magic.

He found a corridor off to his left and walked up the stone steps, knowing that his father had a tendency to seek high ground. Eventually it became clear that he was in the dungeons of the castle, something that would normally cause him to go back to the main staircase. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was getting closer to his father with every step. Eventually he turned a corner and found the one cell that wasn’t empty in the vast tower.

In the corner his father lay balled up, his green cloak stained by the water dripping from the stone ceiling. Simon drew in an audible breath. Stirred by the noise, David Snow turned and looked at his son, his eyes blank. Then he jumped out of his slumped position and threw himself at the bars.

“Oh my son! My son! Thank Merlin you’ve found me!”

“Father…what happened to you?”

His father’s eyes shifted to look behind him.

“I was looking for something in the woods…I got lost. Eventually I found this place and decided to rest here for a bit. But Simon, my boy, there’s something terrible in this place.”

Simon glanced around him.

“Yeah I know. I can feel the dark magic here.”

“No!” His father yelled, grabbing Simon’s jacket through the bars, “You don’t understand! There’s a thing here, an evil creature! He’s the one who locked me up!”

Simon wondered if his father had hit his head.

“I’m sure he was a horrible man if he could do something like this to you father, but let’s not get carried away.”

His father’s eyes widened and his face went white. Weakly, he let go of Simon and backed away from him, his eyes focused on something behind Simon. His legs began to shake.

“Not a man…” His father trailed off.

Simon felt a chill run down his spine.

“A beast.”

Simon whipped around and came face to face with his father’s captor. He was taller than Simon, enough so to loom over him. His skin was as grey as the sky outside the castle, and his eyes were the same color, if not a little stormier. His hair was jet black and wild about his face, as if he hadn’t cut it in years. All of this, strange as it was, was still human enough. 

But the fangs, the horrible, sharp fangs that protruded from his dark red lips were undoubtedly beastly.  His expression matched the cruelness of his appearance, a mask of pure and utter rage. 

Simon did not know what to call this person, as he somehow had ascertained the creature in front of him was indeed a person. His sword was already drawn, but he had the sinking feeling it would do little against the menacing man in front of him.

“You dare take up a sword against me? In my own home?” The man hissed.

Simon swallowed loudly.

“I-I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that you…well, you surprised me.”

The man studied him.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Simon said.

“Well why haven’t you put your sword down yet? Seeing as you only drew out of bewilderment.” 

Simon deliberated. Putting down the sword meant relinquishing his best weapon and left him vulnerable. But keeping it drawn would likely make the man attack. Slowly he sheathed his sword. 

“There,” Simon said.

The man sneered.

“What are you doing in my castle? I don’t like trespassers.”

Simon clenched his jaw.

“I wasn’t trying to trespass. My father went missing a few days ago and I tracked him here. I didn’t realize the castle was occupied by you.”

The man snarled loudly.

“So you’re the son of this disgusting excuse of a man?”

Simon growled back at him.

“How dare you talk about my father like that!” Simon yelled.

The man threw him up onto the bars in a rush, barely exerting himself. Simon had been right to assume that the man was unnaturally strong. He felt his breath rush out of him against the force of the blow. 

“Your father tried to slit my throat in my sleep.”

Simon wanted to deny it, to say his father would never be capable of such a thing, but he knew that he couldn’t. Unfortunately, Simon could very well imagine his father doing just that sort of thing. The man waited for Simon to defend his father and when it was clear he wouldn’t, set Simon down.

“Simon,” His father whimpered, “He’s a monster! I only thought I was doing the right thing!”

The man laughed darkly.

“Is that so? Is stuffing your bag with dozens of my possessions doing the right thing?”

Simon looked down. His father was not a good man, Simon knew this already, but he was the only family he had left. Whether he liked it or not, he would need to break his father out of the castle.

In a flash Simon had his wand out and pointed at the monstrous man’s throat. He was prepared to say a spell when the man laughed raucously. Simon paused, his mouth hanging open in confusion.

“Going to cast a spell are you? I don’t think you’ll have much luck with that.”

Simon realized that although he could feel his magic, he couldn’t tap into it.

“Why…what’s wrong with this place?

The man pulled back his upper lip to expose more of his fangs. It was truly a terrible sight, an image that made fear run up the length of Simon’s body.

“It’s cursed. Like me.”

“What are you?” Simon whispered. 

Something flitted across the man’s expression, too quick for Simon to decipher. As quickly as it had come, the look left the man’s expression and was replaced by cold disinterest.

“Enough questions. Your father will spend the rest of his life rotting in this cell; I don’t care what you think about it. He committed treason as far as I’m concerned. “

Simon sagged in defeat. The smart move would be to respectfully apologize on behalf of his father and to leave. It was in his best interest to leave his father, and this mysterious man, behind him forever. After all, his father had committed horrible crimes; he deserved to be here.

“I know,” Simon started, “That what my father did was despicable.”

His father moaned weakly in his cell.

“But,” Simon continued, through gritted teeth, “I cannot simply leave him here. I have no hope of beating you in a fight without my magic and I don’t wish for my family name to cause any more violence in your home.”

The man frowned.

“And so?”

“And so…” Simon trailed off, “Punish me instead.”

The man’s eyes widened. From behind him he could hear his father shrieking with happiness. Simon closed his eyes, trying to quell the pain in his chest. 

“You would take your father’s place?”

Simon felt his father grab his leg through the bars. He was kissing Simon’s calf.

“Thank you my son. Oh. Bless you. I won’t forget this.”

Simon’s throat hurt.

“Yes, I will take his place.”

The man pointed in disgust to his father, who was crying in happiness on his hands and knees.

“You would sacrifice your entire life? For a coward like this?”

“Enough questions,” Simon threw the man’s earlier words back at him, “Just let him go and do what you want with me.”

The man glared at him for a minute, as if he was unwilling to accept Simon’s offer. Eventually though, he pushed Simon aside and unlocked the cell door. His father sprang out and ran down the stairs, without a backwards glance at Simon. 

“I’ll come back for you Simon! I swear it,” He heard his father shout out from below.

Simon knew it was a lie. He knew that unless he found some way to escape on his own that he would be stuck here until he died. David Snow was not a good man but he was an even worse father.

The man allowed Simon the dignity of entering the cell on his own as opposed to throwing him in. Keeping eye contact with him, the man closed and locked the cell door.

“Your father is a selfish and cruel man. But you…”

Simon waited for him to continue. With a shake of his head, the man turned away and began to walk down the stone stairway.

“You are a fool.”

With that, the man walked away, leaving Simon completely alone. Sighing, Simon slid down to the floor. He wished he could say that the man was a monster, that he had forced Simon’s hand and treated his father unfairly. But the truth was cruel, and Simon had to bite his lip to stop himself from screaming.

The truth was that his father had deserved what he got.

And the beast had been right; Simon Snow was the biggest fool of all.

anonymous asked:

I feel like the E part wasn't supposed to happen at LAX but his "team" used his arrest to drag him even more (see anything the sun puts out). Do you think he has a team other than Rusty looking out for him? That can spin the story into him wanting full custody or something bc of how vile Briana is? Like this is Ann Marie, Simon(s), the Sun's last chance to make Louis out to be unstable & unfit before contracts are finally up and it ends. They can say they dropped him when reality says otherwise

Yes, I agree. I think they’re taking what happened at the airport and exploiting it to the fullest extent they can. They’ve tried to do this type of thing before and they don’t even need to set it up - for example, they tried to make Louis look out of control by completely fabricating a story about him getting kicked out of a hotel. They used that moment with Liam and Louis roughhousing onstage to make Louis look like he was out of control and his bandmates were so over it that they were getting physical with him. They’ve also put him in situations with paps when he’s been vulnerable (like after his performance on TXF) and they’ve even spun joking confrontations with paps into something ugly for the sake of making him look unhinged or angry when he’s not. I think the drama with the fan and the way things went down with the pap was a lucky added bonus for them.

I think Louis is really smart and has people around him that care about him and are looking out for him, both personally and professionally, even though it’s really fucking hard to tell sometimes (especially on the professional front). He has a great lawyer that he accessed quickly and who put out a positive statement for him when his PR did nothing and he seems to have someone keeping a lot of the press quite friendly in the U.S. while Louis’ own team poisons his image in the UK press. So I hope that he has an incredible team waiting in the wings to step in when he’s free of this mess and helps undo most of the damage. Thankfully, there are plenty of ways to make him look sympathetic and we always have to remember how short the public’s attention span is. Right now, though. Right now, this is fucking infuriating.

Your Move

The nine times Simon and Baz prank each other and the one time they don’t

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Epilogue

April 1

Simon

I find the letter at the foot of my bed when I wake up.

 

Simon,

 

I don’t know exactly how to say this

I’ve been sitting here staring at the blank page for ten minutes

Why did you have to be the Mage’s Heir?

I wish this didn’t have to be so hard to say

Crowley, this is ridiculous

We’ve lived together all this time and

Bet you thought I hated you

I don’t hate you

I can’t even explain what I

Why did we have to be enemies?

Fuck it.

 

I love you Simon Snow.

 

Baz

He finds me outside the dining hall, and when he storms towards me I see the letter in his hand. I brace myself.

Simon

“When did you even write this?” I begin.

           Baz looks taken aback.  “What does that have to do with anything?”

           “And why did you have to write it today?”

           “It’s April Fool’s Day, Snow,” he tells me, “or did you forget already?”

           “That’s just it,” I say, my voice getting louder. “Why would you write something like this on a day where it could be a prank?”

           “For exactly that reason.”

           “Well, what am I supposed to think?”

           He gives me a look.  “Think whatever you want, Snow,” he shrugs, “I’ve made my move, just focus on making yours.”

           I glare up at him a second longer.  His eyes are gray and deep and almost sad.

           His mouth is right there, and his lips look soft like his hair.

           I wonder if he’s noticed where I’m looking.

Baz

I wonder if he’ll reach up…

           Or if I’ll have to reach down…

           Or if I’m even brave enough…

Simon

I’m not brave enough.

           I step back while I still can, before I’ve been staring at his mouth too long or before one of us closes the distance.

           I wish I had some sort of parting phrase, something more eloquent than “fuck you”, but I don’t.

           So I turn and walk away, feeling his eyes bore into my back, feeling that same magnetic tension I’d felt when I’d left him to cry away his own nightmares.

           I wait until I’m around the corner before I start running.

Baz

Maybe a love letter is a lame April Fool’s Day prank, but when else am I supposed to tell him? When else would he take it with a grain of salt?

           Except he didn’t take it with a grain of salt, even today.

           I hope it makes him hate me.  I hope he burns it in front of me.  I hope he makes me burn it with my own fire.

           I wish he would just break my heart and leave it at that.

           Because the only thing worse than knowing he hates me is not knowing.

Simon

I could have kissed him.

           I wanted to kiss him.

           Why?

           I’m outside when I run out of breath and I lean against an ivy-covered wall before pulling my phone out of my pocket and dialing Penny’s number.

           “Hello?”

           “Penny?”

           “Hey Simon, what’s up?”

           I squeeze my eyes shut.  “You’ve got to help me.”

           “Why, what’s wrong?”

           “I…”

           “What?”

           “I almost kissed Baz.”

Penelope

I find Simon sitting on the ground against a wall, and the grass is wet but I join him anyway and wait for him to speak.

           “What’s wrong with me, Penny?”

           I shoot him a look.  “Nothing’s wrong with you, Simon,” I assure him, “you’re just scared.”

           “Baz hates me.”

           I don’t answer.

           “And I hate him, right?”

           “If you have to ask me, then you probably don’t.”

           “But I must,” he insists, “I always have.”

           “Things change.”

           “Not this.”

           “Where is this even coming from?” I ask.  He hands me a folded slip of paper.  A letter, and even though it’s not signed, it’s clear who wrote it.  

           “It was on my bed this morning.”

           “You do realize this is probably a prank, right?”

           “But that’s just it,” he sits forward urgently, “I can’t tell.”

           “Simon,” I tell him firmly, “if he does feel this way, then what better day to tell you than on a day you might not realize it’s true?”

           “But why wouldn’t he want me to realize?”

           “Oh, I don’t know,” I scoff, “maybe because you’ve been mortal enemies your whole life and he’s supposed to kill you and it would be bad enough if he thought you hated him but even worse if you didn’t?”

           He doesn’t respond, weighing the possibility in his mind.

           “Quick question.”

           “What?”

           “Who almost kissed whom?”

           He shakes his head.  “I’m not really sure anymore.”

           “Did you want to kiss him?”

           It’s a long moment before he gives the slightest of nods.  “Why would I want that, Penny?”

           I put a hand on his knee.  “Oh, Si,” I murmur sympathetically, “you know why.”

Baz

I only go to the room for a minute after lunch to grab a jacket, but when I get there, there’s a note on my bed.

Baz,

 

I love you too.

 

Simon

Of course I do.  How could I have doubted for a second that I did?

Baz

I avoid him for the rest of the day, spending most of it wandering the catacombs and when that gets boring, the Wavering Wood.  I climb to the top of the highest tree I can find and close my eyes, trying to remember how it felt yesterday.

           I don’t know if I should be reading into the note or not, but that’s probably my own fault.  I did it to him, so he did it to me, all on the one day of the year dedicated to practical jokes.

           Yet neither of us have actually said April Fool’s.

           I wait as long as I can to return to our room for the night, and by then it’s dark already.  Simon doesn’t appear to have come up yet, but the window is open, so he must have been here since I found his note.

           As I stare at the window, something dark and long swoops through the outside air lazily.

           I venture closer, and it swings by again, but this time I see what it is.  A dragon’s tail.

           Part of me wants to yank it hard and send him tumbling (his wings would save him anyway, no harm done), but I just poke my head out the window and find Simon on the roof, his tail dangling over the edge.

           “What in Merlin’s name are you doing up there?”

           “Turns out I like high places,” he replies without looking at me.  I should go back inside (I don’t have anything else to say), but the sky is clear tonight and the moon is hitting his curls in a new way and I could study them for hours.

           “What are you looking at?” he asks when he catches me staring.

           I shake myself out of my trance.  “Nothing,” I say, ducking to retreat back in.

           “You should come up.”

           “What?”

           “Up here, it’s a great view.”

           “I can see just fine from here, Snow.”

           “Yeah, but…” he trails off, still gazing out over the grounds, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

           “You can come down if you want to talk to me.”

           “Where’s the fun in that?”  He shoots me a shy smile like he’s not sure if it’s allowed. “Seriously, just get out here.”

           I peer over the windowsill to the moat.  “I’ll fall.”

           “No you won’t,” Simon scoffs, “I’ve seen you climb.”

           “And I fell.”

           “I’d catch you.”

           He won’t look at me again but I can tell he’s not going to take no for an answer.

           I look anywhere but down or at him as I scramble over the sill and up onto the roof, not taking the offered hand but not slapping it away either as I might have done yesterday.

           One almost-kiss and you’d think the world was turned upside-down.

           Well, two almost-kisses.

           I settle into place beside him, anchoring my feet so I won’t slide down the angled roof.  It’s really not the most comfortable position, and the night air is colder up here, but now that I’m here I can see what he was talking about.  The Wood is like a quilt draped over the land and the hills roll like waves into the distance.  “Not a bad view,” I concede.

           “Told you.”

           “It would be a shame if I were to push you off the roof right now.”

           “You won’t.”

           “You sure?”

           “Yes.”

           “Why?”

           “You just won’t.”

           I should, just to prove him wrong. Yesterday I might have.

           “Baz?”

           “Yes?”

           “Why haven’t we teamed up before?”

           I give a dark laugh.  “It might have something to do with being mortal enemies.”

           “Is that what we are?”

           “Well, it’s no secret that the Old Families want me to kill you.”

           “So why haven’t you?”

           “Are you getting impatient, Snow?”

           “You’ve had every opportunity, but even the times that you have legitimately tried, you’ve ended up saving me.”

           “I’ll make a note to stop doing that.”

           “Please don’t.”

           “I doubt we’d make a very good team, Snow,” I chuckle quietly.

           He looks genuinely curious.  “Why not?”

           “I think there has to be a certain level of trust in a team.”

           “I trust you.”

           I raise an incredulous eyebrow at him.  “I sold you out to a goblin yesterday, and now you trust me?”

           “It seems that way.”

           “Maybe that’s the reason we wouldn’t make a good team, because of your horrible decision-making skills.”

           Simon just laughs.  “You weren’t actually trying to kill me, and besides, look how it turned out.”

           My mind jumps straight to the almost-kiss at the top of the tree and I’m suddenly grateful for the darkness hiding my blush. “What do you mean?”

           “You killing that goblin,” he practically gushes, “that was incredible!”

           I shrug.  “Goblins are stupid, it wasn’t exactly difficult.”

           “Exactly. Imagine if we’d teamed up years ago, the Insidious Humdrum would be long gone by now.”

           “How boring our lives would be.”

           “We wouldn’t have to be enemies.”

           I look down at my legs.  “We’d still have to be enemies.”

           “We could be unlikely friends.”

           “No we couldn’t.”

           He glances at me carefully.  “Maybe not,” he agrees after a pause.

           Maybe he could be alright with friends, but I don’t know if I ever could.

           Fuck the Families.  Fuck the Mage.  Fuck the roles we’ve been given and the parts we have to play.  Fuck it all.  I just want you, Simon Snow.

           “Baz?”

           “Hm?”

           “Why did you have to write that letter today?”

           I don’t know if I’m shivering from the cold or the question, or both.  “I’ve already told you why.”

           “Why couldn’t you have written it tomorrow?”

           I cast him a sideways glance.  “You know that April Fool’s Day isn’t the one designated day of the year that I’m able to lie to you, right?  Saying it any other day wouldn’t make it true.”

           “If it were true,” he says slowly, “today would be the perfect day to say it without the risk of being taken seriously, right?”

           I shrug carefully.  “I suppose.”

           “Baz?”

           “What?”

           He looks me right in the eye.  “Did you mean it?”

           I hold his gaze.  “Why are you expecting the truth?”

           “Because I trust you.”

           “That’s right, I’d forgotten.”

           He waits expectantly.

           “It doesn’t matter what I say,” I sigh, “you won’t believe me.”  It’s the grave I’ve dug myself.

           “Baz?”

           I don’t answer, just meet his eyes.

           “Did you ever consider,” he murmurs, “even for a moment, the possibility that your letter would mean something to me?”

           I don’t speak, I can’t.

           “Or that maybe my note wasn’t a prank?”

           I gulp.  “The thought crossed my mind, but it was too ridiculous to entertain.”

           He shifts fractionally closer but I can already feel the energy start to crackle between us.  “It’s not that ridiculous.”

           “What are you saying?”

           Simon’s eyes are dark like indigo, his hair framed by the moon behind him.  “I think…”

           I can’t breathe as I wait for him to finish.

Simon

I don’t know if I can say it.  Writing it down is one thing, but saying it face-to-face, and this close…

           Baz’s eyes are silver, illuminated by the moon behind me.

 

Baz

“Do you know why I woke you from the nightmares?” he says suddenly, and I want to slap him for changing the subject.  (And then kiss his cheek.)  (And then kiss his mouth.)

           “Because I was keeping you from your beauty rest?”

           “Because you were scared, and… it hurt me to see you hurting like that.”

           He won’t look at me again, and I want to take his chin in my hand and make him meet my eye, but I stay still and wait.

           “When you had the nightmares,” he eventually continues, “you didn’t just say no a lot.”

           I already know where this is going.  “What else did I say?”

           “My name.  Simon.”

           Figures.  “I was afraid of that,” I nod.

           “Can I ask what you were dreaming about?”

           It takes a long time for me to answer.  “I had to kill you.”

           “And did you?”

           Just the thought brings tears to my eyes.

           “You don’t have to…”

           “Yes.  I did.” He’s silent as I take a ragged breath. “That’s why it’s my worst nightmare. I know I’ve been told all my life that I have to kill you, but if it ever really came to it, I want to think that I’d be brave enough to refuse.  But in my nightmares, I always give in.  Sometimes you kill me at the same time, and then at least I know I won’t have to carry on living in a world without you…”

“After I woke you,” he says a minute later, his voice getting quieter and quieter, “I hated myself for what I’d done to you.  I wanted to comfort you, to hold you until you fell asleep again, but I was too afraid.  When I walked away, it was like someone was ripping a piece out of me, and then I hated myself even more.  I thought the feeling would go away, but it didn’t.”  He looks me in the eye, and he looks terrified.  “It still hasn’t.”

He’s only inches away.  There’s tears in his eyes to match mine.  

“I think…” Simon moves even closer, “I think I meant what I wrote.”

My heart goes quiet, but I’ve never felt more alive.

“I know,” I whisper, “that I meant what I wrote.”

It’s taking everything in me right now not to fall against him.

I don’t miss his eyes as they flicker to my mouth and back up. When he speaks it’s less than a breath. “May I…”

“Please.”

He takes a handful of my shirt and pulls me down to him.

Simon

Baz tastes like citrus and wood smoke and I’m immediately lost in the scent.  His mouth is softer than I could have imagined and I want to be gentle, to move slowly, but I can’t stop myself from opening his mouth with mine.  I feel his sigh vibrate against my chin as I deepen the kiss and oh, it’s not enough.  I want to hear every sound he has, to explore every inch of him, to stay here forever discovering.  I know right now that I’ll never get enough.

Baz

Simon kisses me like he’s starving, like he can’t get enough, yet he’s gentle.  His mouth is slow and deep, and my hand is in his curls before I even know what I’m doing, angling his head and moving slow, like we have nothing but time.  The tears are spilling over from my eyes and I can feel the moisture of his own tears on his cheeks, but we’re both kissing through our grins, giddy and desperate for more.

Simon

Breaking away from him is like pulling the plug on life support, but he stays no more than a breath away.

“Are you shaking?” I whisper.

“It’s cold up here, Simon,” he murmurs back.  “Not everyone has an internal furnace like you apparently do.”

I grin and wrap my wings around the two of us.  “Call me that again.”

He presses a gentle kiss to my mouth.  “Simon,” he breathes, and I can’t stop myself from pulling him in again.

Baz keeps whispering my name between kisses, and I keep falling more and more in love with him.

almondmylkbitch-deactivated2017  asked:

Simon dragging Baz into a Lush store, and even though Baz is grumpy about it, he's the one who ends up spending over £100

I’VE BEEN SAVING THIS PROMPT FOR A SPECIAL DAY. HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, Y’ALL.


“Just fuck me up,” Simon whispered under his breath, eyeballing the Sunnyside bath bomb.

Baz just stared at the metal bucket, overflowing with bath bombs covered in gold edible glitter. He tried to gently guide Simon away from the display, but Simon’s feet might as well have been made out of lead. “No, Snow. I draw the line at glitter.”

Simon just glared up at him, jaw set and right hand already defiantly grabbing a Sunnyside and dropping it into their basket.

“I don’t want to fight you today, love,” Simon said, wiping his hand on Baz’s jumper, “but you did promise to let me go to Lush today.”

Baz flicked the side of Simon’s head and shoved the basket at him. They’d been in here less than five minutes and he was already drowning in all these smells.

The sales lady had been far too chipper when they’d entered, there were too many bright colors, and the gigantic blocks of soap with knives stuck in them were making Baz really uncomfortable.

Simon, on the other hand, was living. He loved all the cute little bath melts, and the Valentine’s Day display they had, with cherub-shaped soap bars hanging from the rafters, was ridiculously cute.

He took a picture to send to Agatha since Penny definitely wouldn’t appreciate the aesthetic properly. 

Simon,” Baz snapped, suddenly leaning over Simon’s shoulder and almost making Simon send the display flying. “Quit doing a photoshoot and get what you need. I agreed on 30 minutes.”

—————

I should have known, Simon thought.

Somewhere along the way, Baz had remembered he loved to pamper himself. Like, really loved to pamper himself.

They’d been in there over two hours before Baz was ready to leave. Now, as they ambled their way back to the flat, there was a clear distinction between Simon’s stuff and his boyfriend’s.

Simon looked down at the reasonably-sized bag of goodies in his mittened hand. He got a couple bath bombs, a shower jelly in a nice cherry scent, and the Ocean Salt scrub because it reminded him of the beach he and Baz went to all the time in the summer.

Then, he glanced a look at Baz’s pile, stacked up toward the gloomy sky. Even with his vampiric strength, he looked wobbly under the weight of bath bubblers, lotions, fizzies, scrubs, eyeliners, shampoos, and boxes of every soap the store carried.

“You know, Simon,” Baz said conversationally, his voice muffled underneath a loofa, “I do think you bought too much.”

Simon snorted, winding an arm around Baz’s waist to guide him from falling off the curb. There’d be nothing for it if all his precious goodies ended up tumbling out all over the busy London streets.

Giggling into the pink scarf he had wrapped tight around the lower half of his face, Simon replied, “I think we’re getting a bit confused on who bought what. But I still love you.”

Baz, beginning to teeter up the steps to the front door of their flat building, paused. Simon heard him hum. “I love you, too. But,” he quipped, “I’d love you even more if you opened the fucking door for me.”

Keep reading

You have something on your neck,“ he observed.
Alec’s hand flew to his throat. "What?”
“Looks like a bite mark,” said Jace. “What have you been doing all day, anyway?”
“Nothing.” Beet red, his hand still clamped to his neck, Alec started down the corridor. Jace followed him. “I went walking in the park. Tried to clear my head.”
“And ran into a vampire?”
“What? No! I fell.”
“On your neck?
—  City of Ashes
simon imagine - play pretend

REQUESTED:   “an image about y/n and simon walking outside together as friends and y/n see’s one of her ex and simon pretends to be y/n’s boyfriend and make the ex jealous and simon is being all cute with her and in the end y/n kinda felt simon was actually her boyfriend"

sidenote: this is a lil different and is written from y/n’s pov but quite personally so ye tell me what you think

I think the worst part about a break up is the anticipation about seeing them afterwards. Because you know you will. Whether it’s five months down the line, or five years down the line, you’re gonna bump into them, and it’s gonna hurt. A lot.

The first few months are the worst; everybody creates heart palpitations. Any tall looking guy with curly hair - and there are a few of those around my area, believe me - are a warning sign upon first glance. But every time they’d turn around, and it would just be a false alarm.

It gets to a point where you almost hope it’s them. Not because you miss them, or you want to talk to them, or even want to see them…but you just wanna get it out of the way. You want to be able to say yes, it’s been five months, and yes, that one strand of hair still falls over his forehead like it used to, and yes, his eyes still sparkle just as much; but I don’t care anymore. I don’t need to worry about that anymore.

No matter how over an ex you think you are, deep down you know you wanna look good that first time. You want to make them regret. It’s not an ‘I want you back thing’ - it’s just a superficial, I crave other people’s validation way too much thing. I knew from the very first day without Y/Ex/N I needed to make him some sort of jealous when that interaction first happened.

And so I did.

It was a late night, sort of. Something like midnight. I was tipsy - not enough to lose responsibility over actions, but enough to be…confident. We were in the centre of London, just Simon and I, finding a place to carry on the fun of our night.

It wasn’t like it sounded - the fun was platonic. We were just a couple of close friends, stumbling around the city that never sleeps with warm, intoxicated breath and blurry smiles.

I heard him before I saw him; his deep, almost shrilling voice, so naturally pitched it was almost inaudible. I think Simon heard him too. I think he tried to pretend he didn’t.

“Y/n,” his hand met with my shoulder blade, his touch so familiar. “I…I can’t believe it’s you.”

I guess in hindsight, I was lucky. It was every girl’s dream. He liked when I wore red lipstick, and I just so happened to be wearing it. He always admired my thighs and on this cold night my skirt just so happened to show them. His eyes reflected the admiration, showing it still burned just as much as it had months before. 

“Jesus. It’s…you.”

The breath was knocked out of my lungs as he pulled me in for a hug, Simon’s hand taking home against my lower back, almost like a warm and comforting stop sign. The embrace was short lived as I pulled away. I edged closer to Simon. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Yeah, it is. Me.” He nodded, his eyes scanning my grown and improved body. I felt Simon tense slightly. The awkward atmosphere was clear.

“So..are you here alone?” I asked, cringing instantly. Way to act smooth. 

“Yeah, yeah I am.” He smiled slightly before focusing his attention to Simon. “And you’re..well, not, I guess?”

I looked between the two men. 

“Oh yeah, um I guess I should introduce you?” It came out as more of a question than a statement, to which Simon couldn’t suppress a slight laugh. I reached out to hit his arm, but he grabbed my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing my knuckles. My lips parted slightly. I quickly shook my head.

“Simon, this is…well, you already know, I’ve cried down the phone to you about him before.” I wanted to hit myself. Drunk brain - STOP. “Y/ex/N, this is Simon. My-”

“Her boyfriend,” Simon interrupted. He reached out one hand as a greeting, using the other to wrap around my waist in order to bring me closer to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sort of.”

“Boyfriend?” The curly haired imbecile repeated, clearly surprised. Yeah, me and you both, I thought to myself. Where had this come from? Simon was my best friend…what had possessed this?

Part of me was kicking myself; the alarm bells were set off instantly at the warmth the word had sent through me. I moved even closer to Simon as he began to stroke up and down my back. My entire body tingled.

The two men continued a slightly, to say the least, bitchy conversation, but I had zoned out completely. Simon’s fingers traced patterns onto the exposed skin of my backless dress and I felt myself melt into him. I liked the secret intimacy of it. As I silently focused on this I felt him look down at me.

“Well, we should probably be getting home. You’re staying at mine, right?”

I nodded. I didn’t have any stuff on me to stay at his, but in all honesty, I didn’t care. In this moment of time he could have asked me to commit a double suicide with him and I most likely would have agreed - I was completely under his spell.

“Alright, babe.” My heart swelled. “Well, it was nice to meet you - sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

I watched as Y/ex/N’s jaw clenched slightly. He was quite clearly irritated, and I quite clearly didn’t care. It was nice to not have any feelings for the toxic fuck anymore. We said our goodbyes - involving him leaning in to kiss my cheek, and me backing away - before we turned around to leave.

“What was that?” I asked, feeling the alcohol’s effects starting to multiply.

“I know you’ve always wanted to make him jealous,” Simon spoke, his hand taking refuge in mine, our fingers intertwining. “I thought you might appreciate a little help in your stuttering state.”

My cheeks heated. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“You look cute when you blush you know, Y/n.”

“Go away, Simon,” I laughed.

“That’s not a nice way to talk to your boyfriend is it?”

I looked down. Boyfriend. I knew the label was a playful tease, and after this night it would never be used again between me and Simon…

but I couldn’t help but wish that it would be.




was this shit?? im not sure idk leave feedback pls ty <3