gemma simon

the most unrealistic thing about carry on is how simon barely/never says “mate” even tho they live in london, i mean?? have you ever talked to a british person??


So for Valentine’s day, I made my (non-existent) Valentine, who is obviously as obsessed with “Carry On” and Simon Snow as I am, some bookmarks that each have two quotes - one on the back and one on the front. For the top picture I choose Simon Snow quotes from the Gemma T. Leslie books (the excerpts from “Fangirl”), for the bottom picture the quotes are from Rainbow Rowell’s “Carry On”. Hope you like ‘em! ;-)

The first from the right is all about scones, second reads a spell and a saying from Baz, the third is about interactions between the Mage and Simon and the fourth is all Penelope and what Simon shouldn’t do.

Btw which bookmark is your favorite?


If you are a fanfic author for the book Carry On by Rainbow Rowell you are writing fanfiction for a book that was written by a real author because she was inspired by one of her own fictional charcter’s fanfiction about a fictional series written by a fictional author that the real author created in her other fictional book. 

*world explodes*


rainbow rowell, how dare you write gemma t leslie to write simon snow with a preference for RAISIN scones?? imagine if carry on never was. we’d live forever in a world where simon snow prefers raisin scones with cream to sour cherry scones with butter. madness.


read it here on AO3



I’d figured it out fourth year. I’d started getting hungrier, all of a sudden- started feeling urges I hadn’t felt since I was eleven.

“Vampire puberty” had hit me at eleven years old, consisting of terrifying cravings of blood and a constant longing that never left. This was particularly bad timing, as I was just about to start Watford, and my family was afraid of me possibly losing control. I could’ve not gone to Watford at all that year, saving myself a million problems to come, but I went anyways, insistent and stubborn.

That had been a bad time. Constant thirst made me cranky- crankier than I usually was, anyways. And being around Simon Snow made me absolutely insane.

It was his magic. Not only was I hungry for his blood, but his magic- it drew me to him constantly, like I needed to be around him, like I needed it, like he was this sun of energy and I was an orbiting planet…

And he said, when we first met, mildly, “How did you do that?”

I looked down to where he was pointing, and it was a simple Stick with It spell- I’d attached my notebook to the side of my bag, since there wasn’t enough room to fit it into the internal space.

And I looked back at Simon in disgust, hungry, cranky, wanting him, wanting his blood, wanting to drink his blood, and his magic, his crackling, electrifying, overflowing, spilling sparkling magic…

And I remembered who he was.

Who the Mage was.

And who I was.

And how this idiot- this Normal- waltzed in, Mage by his side, an avalanche of stupid dynamite magic at his command, and no fucking idea how to use it.

This is not how it was supposed to be. Old Families knew. Magician families knew. We knew how to be safe.

And he didn’t.

And all of this, this realization that came with a simple question and knit eyebrows, it washed over me alongside overwhelming hunger-

And I snapped, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Snow had startled, narrowed his eyes, and I had walked away. That was a bad first impression, but it didn’t have to be like that. I know that we could have fixed it. We could’ve made nice, I could’ve stopped being such an asshole, Snow could’ve forgiven me. Possibly. But I just… couldn’t. I couldn’t be that friendly person. Because every time he was near me, it was the same rolling avalanche of emotional burden. It was the same nebula of a headache that drove me to near insanity. His stupidity, his name, his connection to the mage, his magic, and his blood. All pounding on me. All screaming for my attention.

And he was always around me.

And it just stuck. It wasn’t as though I turned into anyone different- I was always cynical, biting, dry, even as a kid. Always had been, since seeing Mom that day. So it wasn’t like I was a changed person, it was just that around Simon, the worst parts of me came out- lashing, poisonous, childish and uncontrollably immature.

And I was a Pitch. And he was a… Whatever he was. An Other. An Outcast. Not an ally of mine.

He was the Mage’s secret weapon.

Even if I had been perfectly polite to him in the beginning, and we became friends, it would have never worked out.

My family had never been friendly towards the Mage and his political allies, but when I got home that summer, they didn’t bother to mask it. They had near declared war.

And I was to take Snow down, somehow.

So I tried. For a while. Second and third year, there were constant tryings. I remember releasing a chimaera, luring him out into the merwolves moat, sending him into The Woods. Always, his stupid magic, a stupid burst of magic ready to save him, setting him off and nearly taking me with it.

And then, fourth year, after a few more weak tries, I’d noticed it.


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