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tscclace · 1 year

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I'd appreciate it if you check out my new fanfic In Another Life by fandom_lover_101 on AO3 where Clace finds themselves stuck in a dimension without Shadowhunters or demons but there are still downworlders. I'm currently working on chapter two. It's short chapters (2,000 words each) so I can update frequently and it being less likely to be abandoned. I prefer longer chapters, but I really want to just get the content out there sooner rather than later

#clace #tmi fanfic #clace fanfic #clary fray #jace wayland #jace ligntwood #jace Herondale #tbe mortal instruments #the Shadowhunter Chronicles #tsc fanfic #fanfiction #tsc #tmi #post City of glass #clary x jace #sizzy #malec #Valentine morgenstern

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diana-bookfairchild · 2 years

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@flufftober Day 11: Poetry, Art, Music, Craft

Jace wasn’t sure how it had started.

Maybe it had started the day he played Simon the song he’d composed for Clary to ask if he thought she’d like it.

Maybe it had started when the fifteen-year-old redhead stubbornly stood her ground in the Pandemonium and made him curious and half already head-over-heels.

Maybe it had even started the day Valentine had begun to teach him the piano.

He wasn’t sure how any of it happened, but he was definitely happy with the results.

Simon knew perfectly well when it started: two days before Clary and Jace’s one-month anniversary. He wasn’t perfectly sure if they were celebrating their relationship or their father’s death or their winning the war but he decided not to ask.

“Where do you think we should go?” Clary asked, looking anxious, swinging her legs, sitting on the table.

Simon didn’t answer for a moment, too occupied with considering when his mother would get home. It had been another wonderful day of throwing his mother’s food away and hiding the fact that he was now a vampire. He was just thankful that drinking Jace’s blood had made him able to withstand the sun again, because dealing with that would have been impossible much longer.

“Si,” Clary said impatiently.

“Sorry,” Simon blinked. “Right. You think he’s ever seen a movie?”

His best friend nodded. “He’s seen a couple,” She made a face. “He’s obsessed with The Birds. Maybe I should just show him another to get him off that.”

“That’s just bad taste,” Simon smirked. “Think he shows that in other areas too?”

Clary seized a cushion from the couch next to her and lazily tossed it at him. In past times, he would have dodged it. This time, her shadowhunter aim struck true despite his vampire reflexes.

“Take him to dinner,” Simon said, laughing. “Candlelit and everything. Maybe one of those places you like to sketch the sunset.”

“Planning on it,” Clary said, smiling brightly too. Her red hair fell into her eyes. Simon valiantly tried to ignore the urge to push it out of them – like he’d tried to ignore all signs of his continuing feelings. “What else, though?”

“The arcade.” Simon decided. “He’d love the fighting and racing games.” Simon had to grin imagining the look on Jace’s face at seeing Dance Dance Revolution. The piano was one thing, that was entirely another.

Clary brightened up. “That’s a great idea! Thanks, Simon.” She checked her phone. “I have a while before I have to get back to the Institute. Want to go check the new comics in the store out?”

Simon shrugged. “Sure. Should be fun.” He and Clary always had fun though, whatever they did, so it didn’t really matter.

He was thinking about Jace. How he’d turned into someone he admired from the ‘fake blond’ he’d hated with a passion. Enough to approve Clary’s relationship with him even with a broken heart. He couldn’t believe he knew Jace well enough to give his girlfriend ideas for a date. And that he liked thinking of him on the Dance Dance Revolution machine, all sweaty and grinning with that lazy arrogance he always had.

Clary’d had ideas of what her life was going to be since her childhood.

She was going to backpack around Europe with Simon. She was going to study Art, hopefully in NYU or Columbia. Maybe she’d specialize in art therapy eventually, or architecture or design. That part hadn’t been too clear. Simon would take a nice safe major for his mother, while focusing on his music. They’d live together.

And eventually, she’d meet someone who made her heart race. Who was handsome and charming and appreciative and loving. And she’d get a job and maybe a pet and maybe kids later in life.

That had all been for later though.

And she’d never thought about what would happen with Simon then.

Simon had been a constant for more than a decade in her life. She couldn’t imagine it without him. He was part of who she was.

But Clary had never imagined that he would find someone when she’d find a boy. She’d never taken him for granted in the usual way – she’d always treasured his friendship – but she realized she had taken his presence in her life for granted; never once imagined that in her future he might not be there.

She remembered how jealous she’d been of Izzy when they’d first met – la belle Isabelle with her grace and beauty and deadly smile and whip, with whom Simon had been smitten instantly.

She’d always imagined that the one she loved would come into her life and change it forever – that romance would come into one’s life with pomp and blare, clear and instant.

And it had. She loved Jace. Jace was everything she’d imagined – beautifully handsome, appreciative of her and her art, broody but kind, a knight in shining armour. He was also everything she’d never thought she could love with such a fierce intensity – snark, trauma, an overprotectiveness that extended to making decisions for her. Being her father’s adopted son.

But love had also somehow managed to creep up on her, silent and invisible, unfolding from her friendship like it had always been inevitable. Simon was an open-book, lighthearted, clumsy even as a vampire. Nothing like her childhood dreams of romance. And yet, loving him was childhood innocence. Easy as breathing. It came naturally.

Two boys, nearly nothing alike, and they both had an unimaginable hold of her heart.

Jace had never thought he’d ever feel romantic love.

He’d thanked the Angel everyday for Alec and Isabelle and Max. Robert and Maryse too, but his siblings had always been more family to him than them. He knew they were fond of him, but to them he was their ward. To his siblings, he was family. A Lightwood through and through.

For him, they were enough. Of course they were.

And then he’d met Clary.

She was … everything. She was the whole world, his whole world. He wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d fallen in love with her. She was always unexpected. He had no idea what she was going to do or when. He’d had no idea he was going to kiss her until he did. He hadn’t known she would come for him at Renwick’s until she did. He hadn’t thought in his wildest dreams that she would slap him for putting her life at risk rather than throwing herself at him for saving her.

Romantic love wasn’t something that he could shrug off, apparently. Even when he knew she was his sister, even when he knew it was wrong, even when she’d been dating someone else, loving Clary wasn’t a switch in him that could be turned off.

He had never felt as much jealousy as when he’d seen Simon kiss Clary’s wrist in Magnus’ house. He’d burned with it, the rage and sadness enough to power several cities.

He still wasn’t sure when Simon had turned from the annoying mundane tag along to someone he valued.

It had become clear, eventually, that without Simon there was no Clary. If Clary was the world, Simon was the axis that kept it spinning and stable. The evenness to her temper, the caution to her impulse, the light-heartedness to her angst, the carefreeness to her troubledness.

He’d nearly given his life for the vampire, back on the ship. I would have let you, he’d said in response to Simon’s horror at his capability of draining Jace’s blood. The first time saving him, at the Dumort – that had been entirely for Clary, because he didn’t want to see the panic in her eyes any longer.

The second time … despite his jealousy, despite Simon being a downworlder – it had not been for her. At least, Clary hadn’t been the only reason.

And it had been enough to at least somewhat trust him. We have Clary in common, he’d said. We both care for her. She’s important to both of us.

Jace wasn’t sure what exactly to make of that.

Nevertheless, the vampire was his best source as to whether Clary would like the song. So off he went.

“You’ve composed a song for Clary,” Simon said, staring at Jace. “And you want me to say if she’ll like it.”

“If you’re done rehashing what we’ve already established, vampire. . .” The Shadowhunter drawled.

Simon held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. There’s a piano in the other room. We can use it.”

“Why exactly do you have a piano?” Jace asked curiously, watching Simon through narrow gold eyes from his seat on the piano. His eyes are so. . . otherworldly, Simon thought, unwillingly enraptured. He shook it off.

Simon had to smile at the memory of the story. “Clary and I were ten, my sister Rebecca was twelve and she’d decided she was going to be in the school orchestra. And Luke said he had a piano in his house, so she decided she was going to learn to play it. But then Clary said—”

“Alright, alright,” Jace rolled his eyes. He looked, oddly pensive and for a moment, almost jealous. But what would he have to be jealous of? He was the one dating the love of Simon’s life. “By the Angel, you’re a more long-winded storyteller than Isabelle.” He stretched his hands out and considered them, before laying them on the piano and beginning to play.

Simon had no idea how to describe what followed. He knew Jace was talented. Jace was good at pretty much everything he did. But he hadn’t expected the music Jace played to resonate with him so deeply. He could see Clary as Jace saw her: the red hair, the gleam of mischief, the temper, the courage.

Simon’s guitar was lying next to the piano from the last time he and Rebecca had played together for one of their family gatherings (Mom, Luke, Jocelyn, Clary, and Aunt Betty). Simon hardly knew when he picked it up and began to flow with the song.

The melody dragged him into a high – into a trance he couldn’t escape. He didn’t need to know the technicalities of it, he could just play. It was like the times Clary got inspiration for her drawings; she literally couldn’t stop drawing or explain where all that was coming from.

The last notes faded away and the spell was broken. Simon and Jace stared at each other.

“You. . . You understood—” Jace cleared his throat and stopped, like that would prevent Simon from understanding what he was saying. The way they had synchronized, the way he had understood what Jace was playing and been able to reproduce it on the guitar. . .

They understood one another’s music.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Jace asked finally.

Simon wasn’t sure who the sudden roaring jealousy he felt was for. He wasn’t sure of anything. “I’m sure she’ll love it,” he said in a brittle voice.

Clary spent a lot of time sketching Jace.

She could never quite perfectly capture him, though she never stopped trying. She supposed it was the same with all artists regarding people they loved: their essence was always frustratingly missing from the art.

Her pencil made an unintentional skid across Jace’s wing. Irritated, she sighed.

“Clary?”

“Jace!” All her attention was instantly on her boyfriend, who was leaning against the doorway. She set aside the sketchbook and bounced up to him. “What are you doing here?”

Jace took her hands and pressed kisses to them, avoiding the obvious charcoal spotted places, giving her shivers. “Watching my beautiful artistic girlfriend create marvels?”

Clary smiled. “You can be here for that too, but I really don’t think that was your main intention in coming.”

Jace shrugged, looking uncomfortable. It sometimes still blew her away how he trusted her enough to be vulnerable around her, when sometimes he couldn’t be around Alec and Izzy, who were dearest in the world to him, his parabatai and sister. “I wanted to see you,” He whispered. “You’re always, well – when I see you, I always feel more … grounded.”

Clary knew what he meant. It was the way she always felt when she saw Simon. She didn’t think he’d take well to that comparison though.

“Did something remind you of … the War?” She asked gently. They’d talked about it, but it was still a landmine of a topic around everyone. Clary personally thought the lot of them needed therapy.

Jace laughed wryly. “Not that. This time at least.” He kissed her before she could question him further.

Even recognizing the deflection technique, she kissed him back, winding her hands in his hair the way she always liked to. Sparks flew between them, as they always did. Jace never handled her delicately, never seemed to think she wasn’t strong despite his smothering overprotectiveness. He tasted of danger, of fireworks, and yet of the coolness of mystery and night.

So different from Simon, who felt like childhood, like lemonade, the sweet aftertaste that lingered and made you happy. Who held her like she was delicate china.

Jace lifted her up and Clary hooked her legs around his hip. “Don’t think,” She gasped. “That you’re going to escape my other questions—oh, again!”

Jace smirked and his teeth scraped against the same spot on her neck. His hands moved from her waist to her cheek and the bed, and her sketchbook was knocked off it.

Its pages turned as it landed on the floor, ending on a sketch of Simon, smiling gently with flyaway hair in the moonlight, the Mark of Cain vivid. There was an eerie stillness and yet soft bright light to it that seemed to capture him exactly, making her fond of it, much more than all the ones she’d made of him over the years while learning how to draw.

Jace picked it up, face emotionless, and considered it.

“Jace—” Her mouth fell shut. She didn’t know what to say.

“You love him,” He said.

There were any number of things she could have said: I love you. He’s my best friend. I didn’t even know, until recently.

All of them were true, but they would’ve also been cop outs and if there was one thing that she wasn’t, it was a coward.

“Yes.”

Jace looked thoughtful. “And … You love me too?”

Clary exhaled softly, and caught his hand in hers. “You know I do.”

His face softened. “Yeah. I do.” He sat on the bed, pulling her down next to him. “What are we doing, Clary?”

Clary felt panic stir in her. He wasn’t breaking up with her. Was he?

“We’re in a relationship,” she said with forced calm. “And you’ve just found out that I am also in love with my best friend.”

“Unconventional,” Jace quirked a grin. “But then again, our relationship always has been like that.” The relief she felt caused the melting of tension she didn’t even know existed. If he was joking, things were fine. “Can’t even fault your taste,” He said sadly, shaking his head.

Clary had to suppress a grin at the similarity to the conversation she’d had with Simon only a day back. “Aren’t you the one who always called him a rat faced bastard?”

“He did go and get himself turned into one.” Jace muttered defensively. “But no, there’s something about him. . . He isn’t half bad-looking.”

Coming from Jace, this was a bald statement of attraction. That made her consider him more carefully. Jace, who had once thought Simon was the worst and most inconvenient person to grace the earth. Jace, who had his face carefully neutral and playful, his hands clenched and the strange tenor of his voice when he was speaking of emotions but was trying not to be emotional.

“You’re in love with him too.” Clary realized as she said it.

Jace exhaled, and his hand trembled. Clary squeezed it reassuringly. I’m here, it said. You’re not alone. If you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t, but emotions won’t kill you.

“Love is rather an exaggeration, I think,” he said at last. “But there may be more to my feelings for him than I thought.”

Clary stared at him. “I can’t believe you even admitted that much.”

That startled a laugh from him. “Isabelle couldn’t, either.” He said. He was smiling the way he always did when he spoke of his brother and sister. “But Alec said. Well. He said that his relationship with Magnus had only come about when he went to thank him for saving him, and thereby, ‘talking and admitting feelings’.” Jace wrinkled his nose as he always did at those things. Clary felt her heart swell in fondness.

“Well,” She said. “That is definitely more emotion than I expected from Alec.”

Jace snorted. “Yeah, the hard-as-stone thing is a whole façade. He’s a total softie.” There was a pause. He sighed. “I’m going to have to do this whole thing again with Simon, right?”

At this, Clary giggled. “Afraid so.”

“Damn it.”

“You’re inviting me to your one-month anniversary dinner?” Simon stared at his best friend. She always had barmy ideas, but this was ridiculous even for her. Then something occurred to him. “Does Jace know?”

“Of course he does,” Clary said, sounding offended.

“Right. . . .” Simon trailed off, wondering why.

“He wants you to bring your guitar,” the redhead added.

At this, resentment built up in him. So Jace thought he could just get him to play the song without even asking in person? A confession of love that wasn’t his to the girl Jace knew he loved? He ignored that the hurt stemmed from the fact that he’d thought playing Jace’s composition together was theirs and theirs alone, that their duet had been private, a secret treasure for his heart.

Well. Clearly not.

What had he even expected from Jace?

Clary obviously saw that he was going to refuse. “Please, Si,” she said, her green eyes wide. It was the same expression she got every time she wanted to do something recklessly stupid, Simon refused to get involved, right before he’d do it anyway and both of them got grounded by their moms. It was completely unfair because Clary knew the effect that expression had on him. His firm wall began to crumble rapidly.

“Fine,” Simon sighed.

Clary smiled brightly. “Great!” She peered closely at him. When he raised an inquiring eyebrow, she gave a very Not-Clary awkward laugh. She hesitated. “What do you think of Jace?”

Simon stared at her. “Are you seriously asking for my approval of your boyfriend a month after beginning to date him?” His not-beating-anymore heart began to pound. If anyone could figure out how he was feeling, Clary could. She knew him best, even though she had a total obliviousness to any feelings directed her way. And he really didn’t want to have a ‘yes, I fancy your boyfriend, except maybe not really, except I definitely do because I think he’s stupidly attractive and snark and courage humanized and an incredible musician with whom I’ve played a duet like never before’ conversation with her.

“Yes, I am.”

“Well. . .” Simon swallowed. “Jace is. . . .” Play it cool, he told himself. “Alright.” That came out way too stiffly.

Except Clary didn’t seem to think so. She studied him for a moment and then went back to smiling brightly, kissing his cheek and heading out of the house.

Simon wasn’t sure if the ‘I have a crush’ lightheadedness he was going through was because of Clary or Jace.

“I thought you were going to a mundane restaurant?” Simon asked, frowning.

“We were,” Clary said. “But we couldn’t exactly take you somewhere they wouldn’t serve you blood.” She was leaning into Jace.

They’d turned into a couple that used ‘we’ for everything, Simon thought bitterly, trying to hide his surprise at how they’d changed their plans for him.

Dinner went easily, much to Simon’s amazement. He’d expected having dinner with the best friend he had been in love with for years and her boyfriend for whom Simon had also developed feelings for would’ve been awkward, but this was natural. And it gave him way too much hope, ganging up on Clary with Jace, laughing at Jace’s stories of his and his siblings’ antics, nodding in commiseration at the way Jace’s face fell when he mentioned Max and Clary kissed his cheek in comfort.

They were a good couple, he noted with a sad-proud feeling. He was happy Clary had found someone who loved her so much, someone who was so amazing even he’d begun to … Well.

Jace kissed the remaining strawberry chocolate off Clary’s mouth. Simon’s throat closed up. He was torn between continuing watching and feeding some fantasies and jerking away because this was his best friend dammit! Clary pulled away and cleared her throat. She exchanged an indecipherable look with Jace.

That made him anxious. He could always read Clary.

Clary pulled out two papers, and Simon recognized them as coming from the sketchbook Luke had gifted her for her fifteenth birthday. She pushed one towards Jace. “This is for you,” she said nervously, twisting her hair with her fingers the way she always did when she was tense. “I know it’s not much, but considering—”

“Clary,” Jace said with a sharp inhale. He looked like he was about to cry and Simon felt uncomfortable at witnessing such an intimate moment. He wondered why Clary’d asked him to come. “It’s beautiful.” He said, sounding awed. “You- I look – well. Thank you.”

Simon caught a glimpse of it. It was a sketch of Jace, sitting, leaning back, looking remarkably pleased with himself and yet softly happy. The way he crossed his arms, the way his chipped tooth made his smile imperfect, the way his eyebrows relaxed, the light reflected from his golden wolf eyes. . . . Every detail revealed how much Clary had poured herself into this piece.

Every stroke was an ode to how much she loved him.

Simon couldn’t breathe through his longing and jealousy for a few moments – it was pretty good he didn’t actually need to do it anymore. He ignored them kissing.

“And Simon,” Clary said, holding out the other rolled up sheet. Her eyes were bright. With trepidation, with hope. “This is for you.”

Finally feeling like they’d come to the point of why they’d asked him to come there, Simon’s hand trembled a bit, feeling the same emotions Clary displayed so openly. He took it and rolled it out.

He stared at the drawing, wondering, hopeful, fragile enough that a breeze could knock him over. Time stopped, and the world paused.

It was Simon. Simon with his hands stretched out, smiling half-seriously half-playfully in the moonlight, the Mark of Cain very visible.

Clary poured her emotions into all her work – he’d seen breathtaking emotion-wringing portraits of hers of sceneries, their mothers, Rebecca, the Lightwoods.

This – this was different.

This was like Jace’s. From which anyone could tell that each stroke was an expression of love, that the artist loved the subject beyond all measure – the eros type of love.

“What is this?” His voice was tight.

“Simon,” Clary’s voice was trembling. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Simon had wanted to hear these words for years. He dropped the paper, but Jace’s reflexes were fast enough for him to catch it before it fell into the remains of his blood waffles.

“What?”

“Would you like some poetry to make things clear?” Jace asked, leaning back casually, like hearing his girlfriend confess her love for someone else was an everyday thing. His eyes pierced him, and the message was clear: Say you love her back, because I know you do. If you break her heart now, I will stake you through the heart.

Not that Simon needed that, thank you very much.

“I – I love you too, Clary, Of course I do.” He spoke. Clary smiled up at him with tremulous hope. “But why are you--? What are we going to--?” He stumbled over his questions.

“That depends on what your answer is to this,” she nudged her boyfriend.

Jace sighed deeply. “I wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with you, vampire.” He drawled.

Simon was not prepared for this. He pinched his arm to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Jace!” Clary chided.

Jace gave her a petulant look. She nodded her head fiercely in Simon’s direction. He interrupted. “You – like me?”

Jace stared at him, clearly recognizing the wishes and dreams and hopes he had put into that one question. “Yes,” he said softly. “I can’t say I love you – but. When we played the – at your house,” he glanced at Clary, who apparently didn’t know about that. “You understood me. You understood my … music. And even before that. You refused to lie about my family to leave the prison. You stayed with Clary despite everything. Even your goddamn pop culture references.” His whole face softened. “And Clary loves you.” It closed. “What about you?”

“And Clary loves you.” Simon agreed, his mind whirling. That was the basis of everything: as Jace had put it a bit more than a month ago; Clary was what they had in common. They both cared for her. “You’ve saved my life. So many times. Despite my being a Downworlder or mundane. You understand my music, you keep up with me in every argument and fight we have. You never treated me differently after I was Turned. You kept me sane while I was in prison. And you’re quite possibly the most frustratingly handsome person I’ve ever met,” Simon rambled. “How could I not?”

Jace looked completely stunned. Then he blinked, and the usual knowing smirk spread across his face. “How could you not indeed.”

“So. . . So. . .” Simon ignored that. “If we all love each other, then. . .?”

“Simon Lewis,” Clary said, exchanging a look with Jace. “How would you like to join our relationship and try being with us?” Jace looked at him in supposed boredom, but Simon knew him well enough to recognize the barely concealed hope.

“I. . .” Simon pinched himself again. “Definitely.”

“Really?” Clary asked, voice trembling, her eyes bright with tears.

Simon laughed hoarsely. “Clary, I’ve been in love with you for as long as I’ve known what romantic love is. I love you. Of course I’ll jump at the chance.” Like I did before, went unsaid. He’d gotten a bit too emotional at the end, but Clary was worth it.

She leaned in and kissed him – and Simon couldn’t help feeling that this was so much better than their previous ones. Clary let out a sigh and her breath was warm and she was so beautiful and tasted like heat and strawberry and chocolate and felt like home. She was incredible, and kissing her was all he could focus on.

Then she dropped back, and even before he could complain of the sudden loss, Jace had swept in. Jace kissed like he did everything else – intensely and fiercely. If Clary had been the steady love and home, Jace was the windstorm that swept everything away in its wake, yet so awe-inspiring to behold. Kissing him was an exhilarating fight, and their teeth clacked together. Their first kiss left him even more breathless than he usually was.

Simon watched Jace and Clary kiss too, and now – now watching it didn’t create any jealousy, just pure simple happiness and awe. Disbelief swirled in his head. The two people he loved – and now they were in a relationship. He felt Clary’s foot twine around his, in the way they had always done in boring functions since their childhood, and feeling bold, he reached over and took Jace’s hand.

Jace’s gaze snapped up to meet his, and then he smiled and winked. He held the cup of coffee Clary had been drinking from up, and when Clary reached up, he held it even higher.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Jace,” She said in a clipped tone that did nothing to bely her happiness. “Give it to me.”

“Why?” Jace asked, shrugging. “Not my fault you’re so short.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game there, Heronwood,” Simon said cheerfully to his new boyfriend.

“Heronwood?” Jace echoed, eyes as narrowed as Clary’s.

“Herondale plus Lightwood,” Clary nodded solemnly. “It’s a beautiful portmanteau.”

“And it suits you perfectly!” Simon laughed.

Jace gave a yelp as Clary elbowed his arm harshly and dragged her coffee cup away from him, all three of them laughing all the while.

Simon’s dead heart swelled as he looked at them – his gorgeous amazing girlfriend and boyfriend.

“I love you both,” he said recklessly.

Jace smiled suddenly, the sweet smile in Clary’s drawing, very unlike the sarcastic asshole grin he usually had. “We love you too.”

Jace could just imagine what his fa—Valentine would say.

His daughter, and a vampire.

But now, now after he was dead, after all the abuse was finally out in the open, he looked at his incredible partners who understood him and his music and his trauma so well and had now begun to argue about something something in a tv show and thought about his home and his adopted parents and the siblings who had stuck with him through thick and thin.

Every time Valentine had told him he was unworthy of love. Every time he’d broken a bone of his. The dead body of his beloved falcon. Valentine lecturing about how parabatai led to destruction. How love destroyed.

He was wrong. So, so wrong.

It all mattered, of course. Abuse couldn’t be resolved by a relationship.

But still. He was lucky. He was so glad he had made it here.

“We’ll need to talk about this,” he said. “How we’ll make a relationship like this work.”

“We do,” Simon agreed.

“But later,” Clary said. Playfulness danced in her eyes. “For now. . .” She kissed him again, and he closed his eyes and just ... enjoyed the feeling of Simon’s hands on him and Clary’s lips on his.

So very lucky indeed.

#flufftober #flufftober2022 #day 11 #the mortal instruments #tsc #cassandra clare #jace herondale #simon lewis #clary fairchild #climonace #clary fray/jace herondale/simon lewis #polyamory #getting together #established clace #mutual pining #post city of glass #canon divergence #fanfic #expression of love through music and art

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gracie-rosee · 3 months

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Sometimes I feel like I’m part of the few people in this fandom who is obsessed with these books in a normal way.

I love Rhys and Nesta. I love Azriel and Lucien and Mor and Elain. I love Cassian and Amren and Varian. I love Gwyn. I love Emerie. I love Jurian. I love Vassa! I love everyone.

I ship Elain and Azriel, and I believe they’re going to get the next book. I love Elriel but I also really love what Elucien could be and I read Elucien fic and I make art for them!! I’ve read Gwynriel fics because my amazing writer friends wrote them, and they are incredible.

I love some characters a lot more than others for sure, but I’ve never dedicated my entire blog to being anti-anything.

I hope this reaches the right audience. I want to make more friends who like and ship different things than me because I love seeing why people enjoy them so much. If something makes you happy, hell yeah I wanna know why!

This isn’t a joke. I want to be friends with people who have different likes than me. But every time I go and follow someone who likes a different ship than me, their blog is full of negativity towards everything and everyone else. :(

I want to fill my feed with nothing but positivity. If this is calls to you, hi. Let’s be friends!

#Sarah j Maas #maasverse #throne of glass #acotar #crescent city #idk if I should tags ships because I want to reach the right people on ALL sides. but I also want to *reach* all sides.#but I’m also making this post in hopes that I get blocked. yes. I want to get blocked by people who don’t like this post. thank you

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princessofmerchants · 3 months

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My prediction about the next four books SJM will publish

I wanted to get this down somewhere, in part to process my angst about the possibility of what may come last in this next cluster of book releases 😫 but also to record the plot and character threads I am seeing as important heading into the next stretch of books SJM will release.

This includes HOFAS, ACOTAR, and TOG spoilers so it's after the break.

DISCLAIMER: These are just my guesses based on various interviews SJM has given both before and after the HOFAS release — THE ONLY SERIES BOOK THAT'S CONFIRMED IN THIS LIST IS ACOTAR5 BEING NEXT, and with that one, the main characters and plot threads I'll mention have also not yet been confirmed (beyond an avalanche of textual evidence 👀)

So, here are my predictions, circa 1.5 weeks after HOFAS was released:

➡️NEXT: ACOTAR5 - Az/Gwyn + Nesta and the Valkyries (which should also include Mor, ideally in a shared storyline with Emerie), Illyria / Ramiel / the Prison (and maybe a return of the pegasuses to Prythian), Gwydion and Truth Teller (not to mention the other two Made blades Nesta forged in ACOSF - also will Narben make an appearance? 👀), and I also think the first part of the Autumn Court drama may be told in this book - the truth about what happened between Mor and Eris, Beron's ongoing treachery, and Beron may die in this book making Eris High Lord (though some of these items may also be in ACOTAR6 instead - I do think the Mor and Eris story needs to come out in ACOTAR5 though, for Az to make peace with his 500 years of pining for her)

➡️FOLLOWED BY: A Throne of Glass crossover book - Shifter Fae + humans, more history and context about when the ancient Erilea Fae world-jumped to Midgard and served the Asteri, a story that creates threads and connections (of some kind, no idea how, and not sure which ToG characters it would entail) to Lidia (deer shifter with fire magic a la Aelin), Tharion (and the Mer as a people - ToG stans, remind me, were there mer in the ToG series at all? I'm pretty sure Rigelus says they hailed from the same world as the wolves and other Midgard shifters - I've read ToG in full but not as closely as ACOTAR and CC), and Ithan (wolf shifter with ice magic a la Dorian)

➡️THEN I AM THINKING: CC4: House of Many Waters - This would be the continuation of the story threads SJM did not resolve or finish by the end of HOFAS: Lidia's "service" to the Ocean Queen (and more RuhnLidia story with Brann and Ace 😍), Tharion/Sathia with Flynn and their earth magic / Avallen and the pegasuses, Ithan as the new Prime of the Wolves (and something with Perry - why did the antidote fade for her so fast?), Firstlight Zero, widespread distribution of the antidote, Ariadne (where did she go??!), and maybe more portal hopping to Prythian for Bryce, Hunt, Ember, and Randall (OH and maybe Ruhn here too, to get him in the same room as Rhys 👀) to further develop the cross-world friendships we saw forming in HOFAS

➡️WHICH MEANS FOURTH IN SJM'S AIRPLANE TAXI LINE WOULD BE (SOBS): ACOTAR6 - Elain/Lucien, Band of Exiles, Firebird retelling, Koschei, the mortal queens, and the conclusion of the big magical conflict that began with the finding of the Dread Trove in ACOSF, not to mention the Archeron sisters finally acknowledging and healing all of their familial baggage that was born from their collective and generational hardships from their time as humans (so Elain also coming to terms with her Seer powers and being Fae / no longer human - also answering the question: What happened when Elain went into the Cauldron?), I also think some of the Autumn Court drama would play out in this story Helion/Lady Autumn and Lucien's heritage (Day Court heir?), as well as more information about Papa Archeron from the time period of ACOWAR when Lucien traveled with him (LOTS of processing complex and problematic parents in this one!)

Again, these are JUST MY IDEAS - the ToG book guess is based on SJM saying after ACOTAR5 she's excited about the world her next book will be in which she implied was not the CC or ACOTAR world, and which will be emotional for her because of "who may pop up" - if that doesn't scream a return to her to the ToG universe then I don't know what would.

Then the 3rd and 4th predictions follow from that 2nd one being ToG and what I think she may focus on in it to add layers to her crossover - which seems like something she would want to do after how much work she's put into it so far.

I think there's a stronger and deeper fanbase for ACOTAR6 than there will be for CC4, so I think that could impact a decision to write and release CC4 first (since us ACOTAR stans would wait decades for the conclusion of that story and still buy a bazillion copies of it).

WHICH MEANS (SOBS), if these books are released one every 1.5 years on average... It may be quite a few years until we get our Elucien book 😭 ACOMAF came out in 2016. It would be PAST 2026 when ACOTAR6 gets released, over 10 years, until we get to see what actually comes of Elain's and Lucien's mating bond, if the above winds up bring true.

I swear, Eluciens are going to get the trophy for longest wait to see these two in their endgame, bless our patient souls 🏆

(There is always a chance the last two in the list will be in reverse order, with ACOTAR6 followed by CC4, but even if that winds up being the case, it would still be three books from now for ACOTAR6.)

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oliviajdjarin · 2 years

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Ruhn Danaan: Personal

Pairing: Ruhn Danaan x fem!reader

Summary: Ruhn thought fake flirting wouldn’t get under his skin. He was wrong.

Warnings: Major jealousy, reader seduces a male, reader gets felt up by a male, reader wears a tight dress, reader has her hair done, Ruhn shatters a glass, allusions to sex, reader is alluded to having curves, LOTS of swearing, Queen Bryce is here too, ruhn bleeds, let’s pretend the White Raven didn’t *spoiler* explode. Set during the events of HoSaB (sort of), spoilers!!, I apologize if things don’t line up with canon.

A/N: I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this man since I finished HoSaB, so I thought I’d try something new. I hope you enjoy :)

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be very appreciated <3

SJM Masterlist

(I found this drool-worthy art on Pinterest. Absolute full credit to the owner).

You had known the powerhouse that is Bryce Quinlan for over a decade.

And yet, no matter how much time seemed to pass, her stubbornness never seemed to dwindle.

“I’m going Y/N.”

“You’re mated, Bryce. To the Umbra fucking Mortis. They’ll smell it.”

“So? You would be surprised how little that matters to the right male.”

She placed her hands on her hips as she said this, and your eyes trailed down her body. Her skin-tight dress brought out the best parts of her, and the red of her hair was even more vibrant against the dark shade of black.

Beautiful, as she had always been.

“I’m being serious, Bryce,” you responded. “You’re Starborn. You saved this city. If this male has real, usable information on the rebellion, he’s not going to tell you.”

“And he’ll tell you?” she questioned back.

“Yes,” you responded breathlessly. “You would intimidate the Hel out of him, while I am a random female buying him drinks. If I get him drunk enough, he’ll spill.”

Bryce gnawed on her bottom and lip and fidgeted with her rings. A faint pink began to show beneath her freckled face.

“I don’t like this Y/N.”

“I know Bryce,” you responded, “that’s why you’re coming with me.”

“Still,” she replied, “if you get pulled into a separate room, how will I know you’re okay?”

“You know I’ll be okay. I can handle myself,” you said, and moved a bit closer to her. “Whoever this male is and whatever information he has, it’s not worth you being in danger.”

“Danger?” said a voice behind you, deeper and more gruff than either you or Bryce had ever made your voices.

A shot of electricity shot down your spine, and your mouth instantly dried.

“Ruhn,” Bryce mumbled with a roll of her eyes. “Seriously? I want my key back.”

Ruhn Danaan

Half-brother to one of your closest friends, and the hottest male you had ever laid your eyes on.

You turned around with a gulp, reeling in the feeling that his voice gave you no matter how many times you had heard it, and squeezed your hands at your sides.

And there he was. Ruhn Danaan. The Crowned Prince of the Valbaran Fae, and your decade long crush.

Holy Hel did he look good.

It was obvious he had just gotten off from the Aux. His tight black leathers covered him from his back down to his legs, and his tattoos bulged on his forearms. His hair had been the same since the day you met him—long and shaved on one side—but it never failed to do his sculpted face justice. His lip piercing was just visible enough, and the Starsword strapped to his back showed just how broad his shoulders had become over the years.

He was intimidation personified, so much so that it felt like you were standing in his shadow, and you could not take your eyes off him.

You must have been crazy, stupid, insane, but the blue eyes that stared at you every time you closed your eyes didn’t seem to want to leave you either.

You were dressed similarly to Bryce—tight dress, glittery heals, hair and makeup done more so than usual, and fancy perfume emulating off of you— which was making you feel like you should sink into the floor.

Had he ever seen this much of you?

You weren’t embarrassed, you could wear whatever the Hel you wanted, but his slow gaze over you from your feet up to your face sent beads of sweat dripping down your back. He had to have been able to smell your fear—and, of course, other things.

You were so fucked.

“Danger tends to follow me,” Ruhn replied, “but it seems that I followed it this time.” His eyes didn’t leave yours.

He wasn’t talking about you. No way.

Bryce huffed in annoyance. “The only danger here is Y/N thinking she can seduce a rebel sympathizer into leaking information.”

Ruhn’s eyebrows raised. “Seduce?”

You swallowed. “If need be.”

“‘If need be,’ of course you will have to,” Bryce mocked. “It has happened every time you’ve done something like this.”

“Every time?” Ruhn questioned, and folded his arms over his chest. “So you’ve done this before?”

A hint of mischief coated his irises, and your heart had never beat so fast.

“Only out of necessity,” you responded with the best smirk you could muster.

Ruhn huffed out a laugh. “Well Bryce, it seems like Y/N is more experienced in this field.”

“You’re my brother,” Bryce responded. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’d really rather not see you get targeted by the rebellion because of your star Bryce,” Ruhn said, gesturing to her chest.

“I’ll hide it.”

Both you and Ruhn gave her an unimpressed look. You both knew it tended to shine whenever it wanted to.

Bryce groaned in annoyance. “You’re both the worst.”

“Either way I’m going with you,” Ruhn said, tipping his chin up with pride.

“Not in that outfit you’re not,” Bryce responded, and you chuckled.

“And what would you prefer me wear Y/N?” he asked with a tease. Heat began spreading from your cheeks down to your neck.

Nothing.

“Something without a literal target on your back.”

Ruhn laughed through his nose.

“Fine. I’ll meet you ladies at The Raven,” Ruhn said, floorboards creaking as he backed out of Bryce’s apartment door.

You couldn’t miss the hint of excitement coating his eyes, and the heat pooling in your lower stomach.

~*~

The last thing Ruhn expected to see when he entered Bryce’s apartment was you looking the way that you did.

And holy Hel did you look good.

He had known you since you and Bryce were sixteen years old, and as soon as you laid eyes on him, a girlish film went over them. He remembered it. Vividly.

You had obviously found him attractive, and he viewed it as one of Bryce’s silly little friends with a silly little crush.

Until, he was lucky enough for Bryce to reconnect with him. And that was when he saw you. Really saw you.

It knocked the wind from his lungs to see how you’d grown up, and the female you had become. The more he got to know you, the more he realized how self-assured, confident, and fucking smart you were.

And seeing you in that dress. Gods. It cracked the little control he had left into a million pieces.

He had his eyes on you now. He wanted you, badly.

In the beginning, he thought it was just a physical thing, but as the months developed, so did his feelings.

These quote-on-quote “feelings” made him feel like the sixteen year old. He thought he knew his way around women and females, but you tended to send him right back to square one.

And he was about to watch you, potentially, feel up a random man for information.

He brought his drink to his mouth and took a large gulp. He savored the burn of it in his throat.

“There she goes,” Bryce mumbled next to him, and the two of them watched as you slowly made your way closer and closer to the male target. His heart quickened with each step you took.

Bryce and Ruhn were seated at a table far enough from the bar to be subtle, and Ruhn had changed into a plain grey T-shirt and jeans. His hair remained down, and he sure as Hel wasn’t opposed to revealing more of his tattoos.

He saw how you looked at them. He didn’t want you to stop.

“I should be the one doing this,” Bryce mumbled. The male had finally taken notice and introduced himself to you.

“Relax, Bryce,” Ruhn replied. “She’s going to be alright.”

“You just want to watch this. Pig.” Bryce threw back a shot of some sort of clear liquid.

Ruhn raised his eyebrows and took another sip of his drink.

Maybe.

You leaned against the wooded bar in such a way that your curves were highlighted in the party lights. The makeup you chose brought out your eyes perfectly, and the male was becoming more and more interested in the way your hair curled over your shoulder.

Your eyes flickered over the male, and you leaned closer and closer, inch by inch.

Ruhn leaned forward in his chair, watching your every move. Blood pressure rising.

The male leaned in closer, and brushed your hair from your neck. You tipped your head back to show that you enjoyed it, and the male took the opportunity to whisper something into your revealed skin.

You smiled, eyes closed, and the male’s large hand squeezed around your waist. Pulling you into his chest.

And right at that moment, right as your hands covered his chest and his hands moved down your body, it was as if Ruhn’s senses had been dialed to 0.

The music disappeared. The slight buzz he had disappeared. The flashing lights and dancing bodies around him disappeared.

There was only you, wrapped in the arms of another male, looking fucking incredible.

And smiling.

He expected to enjoy this, but he didn’t. Not at all.

Never in his life had Ruhn’s vision tunneled so quickly.

He felt his heart plummeting to his feet, so fast he felt the nausea hit him like a wave, and his normally even breathing quickened to an uneven pace.

Fake.

This was fake.

Don’t take it personally.

You brought your eyes away from the male’s face and down to his arms. Your fingers that were once splayed over his chest now moved to his bicep, tracing the intricate ink that Ruhn hadn’t noticed before.

It sure as Hel feels personal.

Ruhn didn’t realize how tight his jaw was until it started to grow sore, and he didn’t realize just how many times he had imagined you doing that to him until it wasn’t him.

He could make out Bryce’s faint voice next to him, asking if he was okay, but the lack of oxygen and blood flow through his body only allowed him to focus forward.

The male traced his finger down your spine, and Ruhn’s fae senses allowed him to pick up on the chills that erupted across your arms.

He felt his face begin to grow more and more red, and the grip on his whiskey glass become more and more relentless.

The male watched as you traced down his arm, smirking, and he brought his free hand to the side of your face. He tilted your head to the side, and whispered something in your ear once more.

You rubbed your lips together and nodded, and the male dipped his mouth down to where the tendons in your neck met your collarbone.

Ruhn’s nostrils flared.

And then, as if he had all the time in the world, licked a clean stroke all the way up to your ear, and you exhaled loudly from your mouth.

Ruhn heard it. As much as he didn’t want to, he heard it.

And the idea that he wasn’t the cause of it caused his control to finally snap.

The force of his grip on the glass became too much for the cheap material, and dozens of tiny glass shards rained over the table like a firework.

The liquid from the whiskey dripped onto the sticky wooden table, and the rest covered his hand to his wrist.

“Ruhn!” Bryce scolded next to him, shaking glass shards from her hair and brushing them off her dress. “What the fuck.”

He didn’t even turn to look at her. Or his hand. Even as he felt warm blood start to drip down his wrist as well.

No. He kept his eyes forward, like the trained leader he was, and felt your eyes meet his own.

The male next to you looked annoyed, but not shocked. Like he saw stuff like this all the time. He waved his hand to the bartender, gesturing to clean Ruhn’s table that was now covered in whiskey and glass.

But not you.

You kept your eyesight locked into his, and a thread of understanding stretched between the two of you.

You knew he had been watching you, you knew he shattered the glass, and you knew why.

Your lips grew into a toothless smile, and the thread of understanding pulled tighter.

He knew you knew, and he knew you liked it. He could smell you—what you were thinking.

A similar smile etched on his face.

The rest of the club, the city, the world disappeared as you looked at each other. Knowing how the night would end.

Tag list: (since this is a new character for me, I decided to start a new tag list. If you’d like to be tagged for Ruhn or for any of my fics, please let me know!)

@leahkenobi

#ruhn danaan #ruhn danaan x reader #prince ruhn #ruhn danaan smut #crown prince of the valbaran fae #ruhn Danaan angst #crescent city #crescent city fanfic #hoeab #hoeab spoilers #hosab spoilers #post hosab #throne of glass #acotar #sjm books #sjm #sarah j maas

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slowpress · 2 months

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CROWNS Context:

“Ruled by Maeve and her two sisters, whom they called Mora and Mab.

GOLD

Cunning Mora, who bore the shape of a great hawk.

Canon: We haven't seen Mora's crown outside of TOG

radiant crown of golden spikes—the rays of the sun,

Canon: Helions Crown Canon: Gave up her immortality for a mortal man

In Terrasen, child Aelin had a gold crown, gold and stags symbol of terrasen. Antler crown (burned to ash) stag + flame is mala Avallen has throne of Stags. Rowan's line is of Mora. Assumed: Mala, the gold crown that Feyre wears ch39 MAF

radiant crown of golden spikes—the rays of the sun,

Helions' Crown in WAR

SILVER

Fair Mab, who bore the shape of a swan.

Canon: Mab, who gave up her immortality, crowned a goddess when she died & renamed as Deanna, lady of the Hunt, Aelin's greatgrandmother, the moon, hounds, healing powers, shifting powers,little folk, crown 'silver, pearl, and diamond fashioned into upswept swan wings'

Assumed: Trapped by Koschei / Meave

BLACK

And the dark Maeve, whose wildness could not be contained by any single form.

Maeve… A warrior, rumor claimed, had stolen her heart with his clever mind and pure soul. But he had died in some long-ago war and lost the ring he’d intended for her, and since then, Maeve had cherished her warriors above all others. They loved her for it—made her a mighty queen.

A portrait of a ruthless, cunning ruler who could conquer the world if she wished, but instead kept to her forest realm of Doranelle.”

Assumed: the raven crown rhys wears is Meaves

BRONZE

Canon: Mala, sun goddess, light bringer, sister & sometimes rival to Deanna. Forged Athril's ring

Brannon (fire) and Athril (dearest friend to brannon) went to get the keys from Valg. Meave killed both. Anthill made ring to halt Valg power, and Goldryn.

Assumed: Mala is Mora

STARS

Canon: The Witches crown

Assumed: Rhys also has the witches crown of stars, ch42 MAF

IRON

Canon: Bluebood witches crown, barbed. On forehead. Iron wood = witches broomsticks Iron wood bed that the Archerons were born on Assumed: Like Hunts crown of thorns?

FLOWERS

Canon: Tamlins & the little people's crown MOON Crown

crafted of silver and diamond, all fashioned into swirls of stars and various phases of the moon. Its arching apex held aloft a crescent moon of solid diamond, flanked by two exploding stars.

Feyre's crown in WAR

#maasverse theory #sjm universe #maasverse #acotar #post acosf #sjmaas #acotar theory #acotar theories #throne of glass #crescent city #mab #mala #meave

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kockatriceking · 2 months

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whole buncha sketches of Llwelyn Winters, my Fallout OC. he's not any of the protagonists, he's just your average friendly travelling trader who sells delicious food and other scraps. a regular guy, apart from his albinism

...well, he can transform into a Deathclaw. that's probably not so average, actually.

Llwelyn's parents weren't vault dwellers- born and bred Wastelanders, his father was a trader while his mother was a hired gun. They stumbled across Vault 298 when on their travels, seeking refuge from deathclaw attacks.

There they met Dr Rald. The Dr was the last of the Vault Dwellers of 298, but not through luck- no, he engineered their deaths. He had experimented on each and every one of them, mutating them beyond viability, in a quest to create the ultimate survivalist. Somehow he convinced Llwelyn's parents of his noble goals, and his mother agreed to be experimented on.

It would be her demise.

Llwelyn tore his way from her womb when he first transformed. The young Deathclaw then turned on his father, and would've killed the Doctor if he hadn't sealed the medical chamber's doors against him. But was Dr Rald rightly horrified at his actions? No. He was simply in awe that at last his creation had worked- he had created a perfect survivalist, the perfect predator- a Deathclaw that could disguise itself as a human. He continued to experiment on Llwelyn, the child growing up under an influx of chems, radiation, and bioengineering. Making him faster, stronger, tougher, giving him the regenerative abilities of a lizard, the heat-sensing ability of a snake, and of course the all powerful strength of a Deathclaw. There were drawbacks, of course. Llwelyn's snow-white skin being one of them. His albinism makes him not only highly distinctive, but affects his vision poorly and leaves him vulnerable to bright lights. The other setback was the pain of transformation- staying in the human form hurts, aching bone-deep pain that's unaffected by chems. He's immune to them all by now anyway.

Unfortunately, the Doctor was not a particularly pleasant parent, and his own personality is what caused his demise. He frequently forced Llwelyn to fight and kill other Wasteland creatures, from radroaches to dogs to fellow deathclaws. Eventually he began bringing in raiders. Traders. People. All to "test" Llwelyn's strength, his loyalty, his weaknesses.

He finally decided on Llwelyn's 13th birthday that he was old enough to truly test his mettle in the Wastelands. Believing Llwelyn sufficiently broken, and would never leave his father figure, he arrogantly didn't use any kind of preventative measure to stop the youth from leaving.

The moment Llwelyn stepped outside he was gone.

The Doctor hunted him. Of course he did. Posters and bounties for the snow-white deathclaw still can be found in the settlements around Vault 298. It was described as a legendary beast, a powerful monster nigh unkillable with its rapid regeneration and quick thinking mind. He wanted it caught alive- but would pay handsomely for its corpse. He also offered a bounty for his wayward runaway son, a simpleton who just didn't understand the dangers of the Wasteland. Many money-hungry glory hunters sought the albino deathclaw. None ever made it back. The hunters slowly dwindled even as the money grew. Nobody wanted to fight something so horrific as that. The Doctor grew desperate. Too old to hunt Llwelyn himself, without the aid of Wastelanders he had no chance.

Until someone finally answered the bounty call.

Llwelyn himself.

Now 20, the boy's time in the Wastes had changed him. He'd met a kind lone wanderer who'd also escaped a vault and who offered him company in the empty lands. The kind stranger taught him everything about the Wastes, taking on the boy as a wayward son. They'd parted ways with much sadness but also many happy memories, and now Llwelyn returned alone to finish his own personal quest.

He killed Doctor Rald.

Free at last from the good doctor's influence.

The rumours of the white deathclaw never stopped, despite it never being seen. It's said it was the one that tore apart Dr Rald, the man offering its bounty, as some kind of retribution.

Whatever the story, it's something the lonely trader isn't interested in telling. He's just come to the Commonwealth and is far more interested in selling his wares to the people of Diamond City than silly stories about scary monsters. No, it's not odd that he sleeps outside of the protective walls of Diamond City, in nothing but a simple tent. Plenty of people survive sleeping rough. Raiders and radscorpions and super-mutants and ghouls aren't that common. No, he's never seen nor heard any Deathclaws about. They don't commonly reside near Diamond City anyway. It's probably just rumours and imagination. Yes, he's heard about the band of raiders found ripped to shreds nearby. Probably just super-mutants and their hounds. Nothing to worry about. Incidentally, would you like to buy his new stock of guns? Still smokin' hot!

#fallout #fallout 4 #long post #fallout oc #deathclaw #oc: llwelyn #deathclaw oc #'you cant make an oc whose a shapeshifting deathclaw thats too op!1!'#he cries when someones mean to him hes not exactly the king of the commonwealtg #yes hes op but he doesnt have the personality to act on that really #he hates fighting #he only fights when he has to- like when a band of raiders jump his ass #he has terrible claustrophobia btw its why he wont sleep inside diamond citys walls it freaks him out #also he likes to spend at least 1 hour a day in his true shape because ouchy ouch his bones :(#the glasses are prescription!! the man cant see!!#my art

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the-infernal-instruments · 2 years

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Okay but just think about it....

If they hadn't come to Magnus's party to discuss Clary's mind block, Magnus's wouldn't have met and flirted with Alec

If Simon hadn't come with Clary in the institute, he and Izzy wouldn't have met

If Jace had never met Clary, he would still be a broken person who thought that to love was to destroy

Just think, none of these people wouldn't have met eachother if it wasn't for Clary. We wouldn't have Malec, Sizzy, and Clace

She might come across as annoying, but that's only because she will never stop until she gets whatever it takes to save and help the people she loves

I hate how often she's overlooked

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oh2e · 9 months

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I care so much about Simon Lewis. He’s good and kind and funny and loyal and despite everything never loses that. He’s also allowed to get angry and jealous and afraid and lash out. He’s so tenderly human and doesn’t deserve all the things that happen to him.

#I’m on city of glass so far in my reread! and I am feeling SO MANY emotions about simon lewis my bestie #simon and michael glass and alec soul screamers tangle up in my heart together #they didn’t deserve it! at least michael got a happy ending. simon’s was happy for him. not so much for the others. and alec? he deserved so #so much better (avari that BASTARD)#my own post #the mortal instruments #simon lewis #simon <3

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