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alastairstom · 1 month

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Butterflies

A Herondaisy drabble based on @hanelizabeth's beautiful art. Also, @angeldaisies, I think you'll like this one too.

You can read it on Ao3!

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James dimly recalled Cordelia once telling him that she looked better in deep hues rather than pastels. She could not have been more wrong. James knew that his wife would be beautiful in anything she chose to wear, make the wings of his heart beat heavily until it took off inside of his chest. And now, looking upon her in her newest gown, James felt those wings take flight and lodge in his throat.

He was lost for words. Breathless. Angel, Cordelia was a dream beyond anything he had ever imagined.

She spun around, an impish smile on her face. "So, do you like it? I know it is far from my usual attire, but I rather liked all of the butterflies on the skirt." She paused. "There's just so much... so much whimsy-"

James knew that his golden eyes were smoldering as he took her in. "'Whimsy' is perhaps not the word I would assign to what I am currently feeling," he said, his voice deep and rich. He laughed, a low sound in his moth-addled mouth as the butterflies moved low in his belly. "I am thinking more along the lines of 'beauty' and 'excessively hopeless desire.'"

In an attempt at true whimsy, James waggled his eyebrows, and Cordelia laughed. She strolled up to him, lifted a finger, and poked his nose. "Your expression is truly quite amusing," she informed him lightly. "As though I am some sort of angel come to life, though I assure you that I am having far too much fun teasing my husband to truly be angelic."

Up close her opal earrings winked. They were set in gold, bringing out the glint of the globe necklace that James still remembered being fastened around her neck for the first time. The gold complimented the flame of her hair perfectly, and the blue...

Well, that brought out the sky shade of her gown, and the white accents and butterflies and sash offset her rich brown skin. The curve of a smile graced her lips, and James...

He wove a hand around her waist.

He pulled her in close.

And when their lips met, the butterflies in his throat and stomach became too much to bear. He made a small noise of desire as he trailed his hand up the small of her back to rest at the nape of her hair, the thick red chignon brushing the sides of his hands...

Cordelia pushed him away with a giggle. "Do control yourself," she said. "There shall be plenty of time for that tonight, and I will wear the dress if you want."

"I certainly would not complain," James told her in perhaps too agreeable a tone. "But you're right. As much as it pains me to let go, I would not wish to miss our dinner reservation. You know that I can never say no to duck ala orange, tempting though it may be."

The duck was good, but Cordelia was better.

She sat across from him devouring her lamb chops and parsnips, talking of a ridiculous dinner that she had recently had with Thomas and Alastair at their home in Cornwall Gardens. "I am telling you, Alastair gave me those lemons to mock me," she said. "You know how I find them too sour!"

"Very rude of him," James agreed, though there was no mirth in it. He liked Alastair. "Next time we have him over, we'll find a way to get him back. Perhaps an extra lump of sugar in his tea?"

"Oh, no. Set out blackberry tarts and pretend that there are not enough for him. He will be horribly overset by the time I reveal that there are, in fact, more in the icebox."

James laughed.

Over dessert, he told Cordelia about the time that he had gone to a market in Alsace with his father, an overcast day when the sun shone over dozens of cards filled to the brim with books. "And that was my first experience with a pop-up stalls," he said. "And now they are an eternal part of my existence."

"Oh!" Cordelia clapped her hands. "I remembered something. Next week in Camden there is to be a book fair. I saw a flyer for it at Comb's Coffee."

"Well, we're going. Mark the date," he told her. "And I will, of course, buy you all the books you want."

Cordelia grinned radiantly, and the opals in her ears sparkled. "Sounds like I'll be requiring a handcart," she said.

"And don't worry," James told her. "I'll select the most insufferable-looking bargain romance that I see so we can read it before the fire and laugh at its nonsense all night."

"My favorite kind of sleepless night," Cordelia agreed.

"You mean second favorite," James argued.

"No, actually, I don't." She smiled. "Though, of course, our other activities are a very close second, I very much just enjoy spending time with you."

She is my best friend, James thought unbidden. Absolutely and completely, I am hers.

And when he finally peeled her butterfly dress off after a night of laughter by the fireplace, he did not forget that.

#i think there will be a part 2 of this #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #herondaisy #jordelia

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iliveformanyfictionalcharacters · 1 year

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Bee’s Masterlist

Last Updated - 10/14/23

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Fire and Fear - Sam has awful nightmares about Jess and Dean is there to help. (Angst)

Castiel

Jack Kline (Platonic)

Gabriel

Rowena Mcleod

Crowley

Benny

Andy

Multiple

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner

Spencer Reid

Penelope Garcia

Derek Morgan

Emily Prentiss

Multiple

Harry Potter

Young Sirius Black

Young Remus Lupin

Young James Potter

Cedric Diggory

Hermione Granger

Neville Longbottom

Luna Lovegood

Draco Malfoy

Harry Potter

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ron Weasley

Oliver Wood

Multiple

Confessions Of Love - Small stories about you confessing your love for HP characters. (Fluff)

The Walking Dead

Rick Grimes

Daryl Dixon

Death - The Greene Family farm was a miracle to everyone. Except for one person.(Angst)

Glenn Rhee

Multiple

Pirates Of The Caribbean

Jack Sparrow

Will Turner

Multiple

American Horror Story

Tate Langdon

Violet Harmon

Kit Walker

Lana Winters

Cordelia Foxx

Kyle Spencer

Misty Day

Zoe Benson

Blushing Butterflies -Zoe and the reader have massive crushes on each other, only Zoe doesn’t realize it because of the readers calm nature. (Fluff)

Jimmy Darling

James March

Elizabeth

Multiple

The Hobbit/LOTR

Thorin Oakenshield

Kili Durin

Fili Durin

Bofur

Bombur

Bifur

Dwalin

Balin

Oin

Gloin

Ori

Dori

Nori

Bilbo Baggins

Samwise Gamgee

Frodo

Merry

Elrond

Legolas Greenleaf

Tauriel

Multiple

HOO Books!Percy Jackson

Percy Jackson

Grover Underwood

Annabeth Chase

Hazel Levesque

Jason Grace

Leo Valdez

Piper McLean

Frank Zhang

Nico Di Angelo (Platonic)

Multiple

Marvel

Tony Stark

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Wanda Maximoff

Pietro Maximoff

Thor

Loki

Jack Thompson

Peggy Carter

Daniel Sousa

Howard Stark

Natasha Romanoff

Clint Barton

Sam Wilson

Bruce Banner

Peter Parker

Multiple

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Robin Buckley

Nancy Wheeler

Lucas Sinclair

Erica Sinclair (Platonic)

Mike Wheeler

Dustin Henderson

Gareth Emerson

Jonathan Byers

Argyle

Multiple

Horror

Paul

David

Dwayne

Marko

Michael Emerson

Michael Myers

Bo Sinclair

Flowers - Giving Bo the flowers you picked. (Fluff)

Vincent Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Bubba Sawyer

Disabled S/0 - Bubba Sawyer with a S/O who uses a cane. (Fluff)

Nubbins Sawyer

Choptop Sawyer

Thomas Hewitt

Patrick Hocksetter

Henry Bowers

Victor Criss

Reggie Huggins

Losers Club (Platonic)

Norman Bates

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Spooky Lovers - Just two people confessing their love during the spooky season (Fluff)

Randy Meeks

Tatum Riley

Brahms Heelshire

Billy Lenz

Tiffany Valentine

Carrie White

Multiple

Meetings - Meeting all the Lost Boys (Fluff)

Grease

Danny Zuko

Kenickie

Putzie

Fear - Putzie has a nightmare and Danny gets worried. Platonic or Romantic; your choice.(Fluff)

Fever - Putzie is extremely sick and after trying to tough it out he seeks help from Danny and Sandy.(Fluff)

Date? - Putzie gets help from his friends to ask out his crush.(Fluff)

The Sting In His Heart 1/2 - Putzie’s been bullied his entire life, it’s been getting worse and worse with every school year. But now that he has four overprotective friends on his side, what's going to happen to those bullies? (Angst)

Blurb - (Fluff)

Doody

Sunny

Multiple

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amaranthine-fangs · 2 years

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gluskids theme songs

to be contiuned and updated when i see fit

Julian

all i want is you now - rebzyyx, hoshie star

baby bride rag - roar

dead hearts - stars

in our bedroom after the war - stars

kiss me, son of god - they might be giants

somethin stupid - frank sinatra, nancy sinatra

one more hour - tame impala

sunglasses at night - corey hart

freshman boyfriend - xo_willow_archive

im so crazy for youuu

so 0bscene - punkinloveee

Thomas

home - luke mccormick

mountains - message to bears

wolf - first aid kit

saint bernard - lincoln

saint bernarnd 2 - lincoln

happy pills - weathers

if god didn't want us to snort worms he wouldn't have made them cylindrical! - mimideath

my smile is extinct - kane strang

dear fellow traveler - sea wolf

tangerine ocean - cahama

Sunny

in my mouth - black dresses

hopelessly devoted to you - olivia newton-john

butterfly - smile

all the good girls go to hell - billie eilish

we'll never have sex - leith ross

angel of love - cali crisis

beauty is empty - lullaby layla, keevin

hey lover - the daughters of eve

fool - cavetown

you're somebody else - flora cash

Morris

sex, drugs, etc. - beach weather

sleepwalk - forrest day

coffee breath - sofie mills

idfc (acoustic) - blackbear

sex on fire - kings of leon

my alcoholic friends - the dresden dolls

nice docs, baby! - blue foster

military fashion show - and one

pride - kendrick lamar

snow (hey oh) - red hot chili peppers

Connie

hello kitty - jazmin bean

oblivion - grimes

final girl - graveyardguy, slayyyter

joan of arc - arcade fire

mr. brightside - the killers

i just wanna run - the downtown fiction

creep - radiohead

what the hell - avril lavigne

just a girl - no doubt

pain - boy harsher

bang bang bang bang - soho dolls

Cordelia

ecstasy (apple of my eye) - strawberry switchblade

she's a big boy - mcbaise

season of the witch - donovan

keep your lips sealed - the do

oh to be in love - kate bush

bimbo doll - tila tsoli, bj lips

your love is my drug - just valery

dj whore - s3rl, tamika

18 - anarbor

killshot - magdalena bay

puppy pound - jazmin bean

Caspian

knee socks - arctic monkeys

anything - catfish and the bottlemen

in between - willis

this is love - air traffic controller

everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears

amber - 311

setting sun - lord huron

stolen dance - milky chance

midnight city - m83

stuck in the middle - tai verdes

#theme song masterpost #jk its actually just for the gluskids lmao #eddie gluskin #eddie gluskin x oc #oc x canon #outlast #outlast whistleblower #outlast wb #fankids #fanchildren #oc theme songs

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therend · 3 years

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Ok so my first language is Farsi and i just wanted to share some of my favorite endearments with you. I like to imagine the Carstairs siblings using these while talking to their men, or teaching these to their men, since both Thomas and James know Farsi but can obviously use learning some extra soft phrases.

Jānam / Jan-e dēlam جانم / جانِ دلم

Jān in persian means life, soul. When you call someone jānam, you're calling them your life or your soul. Jān-e dēlam is another way of using it, and it means "my heart's soul", or "my heart's life". You can use both just to call someone, the way you may call someone dear, or idk, babe. but the way i like it best is for answering someone's calling you. For example:

James: um, Daisy...

Cordelia: Jānam?

James: can you please pass me the sugar?

Which translates to:

James: Daisy?

Cordelia: Yes, My Soul? Yes, The Person for Whom I'm Willing to Give My Life? do speak, Dear Human Being Who I Love Deep Down in My Entire Being? (I'm not making it up it means all this!)

James, tearing up: wH –

Another example:

Thomas: Alastair?

Alastair: Jān-e dēl-e Alastair? (a.k.a: what were you meaning to tell me, You Who Are Alastair's Heart's Soul? You Who Are The Reason Alastair's Heart (=his love, affection, tenderness) Lives Within his Chest?

And this phrase is actually used, and very commonly. I'm not making it up.

Fadāt besham / ghorboonet beram فدات بشم / قربونت برم

Both mean "I'm willing to be sacrificed for you". Commonly used, for when you want to express lots of tenderness.

Doret begardam دورت بگردم

Another way of saying the latter one, but with more ✨ spice✨. Its literal translation is "I would dance around you". That sounds weird in English, i know. But hear me out: you know how bugs can't help themselves getting close to light sources? There's this trope in Persian literature, about The Candle and The Butterfly. The Butterfly is always flying around The Candle, so close, because it's so in love with The Candle that it can't survive being away from it. The Butterfly keeps dancing around The Candle, admiring it. It's a tragic love story: The Butterfly's wings will always burn, flying that close to The Candle, and The Candle will cry tears of wax, seeing its lover's sad end, until there's nothing left of its body, and it, too, will die after The Butterfly. it's used to say i would be there for you, love you, adore you, even if it's going to cause me such a terrible death. It means in my opinion you're worth being sacrificed to.

Golam گلم

Gol is the Persian word for flower. It's so common to call your beloved golam, which translates to "my flower". Flower in Persian literature is usually used as a symbol of lover, since birds seem to be in love with it, and a symbol of beauty, since, well, it's beautiful. So by calling someone your gol, you're telling them they're beautiful and lovely and you love them so much.

Negar نگار

The word itself means a beautiful, artfully done piece of art (usually drawings and stuff like that). But since Persian poets are all a little bit Extra (well, aren't all poets, really?) They started using this word when referring to their lover, and they did it so often that now negar is used as another way of saying "lover", empathizing the fact that said lover is beautiful (and not just beautiful by appearance and looks, since the beauty of art itself, sinks so much deeper than just the colors and shapes you can see at first sight. God, Matthew would love all this). Oh, by the way, the word Negar is also used as a girl's name – not that you can only call your lover your negar if they're a girl.

Sanam صنم

This one's another completely irrelevant word whose meaning was changed by the poets. Sanam means idol. You call someone your sanam when you're so madly in love with them that they literally become your god. (Thinking about Mr. Hozier, huh?)

So. These are what i can think of right now! Hope you enjoy skjsksks.

Check out the second post here!

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shadowhuntertrash · 3 years

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Mmmmm tlh gang as animals

alastair ♤ hedgehog 🦔

cordelia ◇ turtle 🐢

matthew ♡ golden retriever 🐕‍🦺

lucie ♧ lioness 🦁

thomas ♤ raccoon 🦝

james ◇ sloth 🦥

jesse ♧ butterfly 🦋

christopher ♡ dolphin 🐬

kamala ☆ elephant 🐘

eugenia ¤ seal 🦭

grace • peacock 🦚

#animals ‼#tlh gang as...#tlh #the last hours #james herondale #matthew fairchild #christopher lightwood #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #cordelia carstairs #lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #grace blackthorn #eugenia lightwood #kamala joshi

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i-sold-my-soul-to-house-wrath · 3 years

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The 'Tied-To-The-Bedpost' Scene - Chain Of Iron

James retired to his room with Thomas, who helped nail the window shut before heading back downstairs to play cards.

Cordelia, after visiting her own room to change into a comfortable tea gown, joined James, who locked the connecting door firmly after her and moved a chair in front of it for good measure.

Then he began to get undressed.

Cordelia supposed she should have expected this. The whole idea was that James would go to bed, after all, and he couldn’t be expected to sleep with his shoes and jacket on. She pulled a chair up beside the bed and settled herself on it, Cortana across her lap.

“Your drive today,” he said, undoing his cuff links. His shirt sprang apart at the wrists, revealing the strong line of his forearms. “Did it lift your spirits?”

“Yes,” she said. “There’s a fanciful story of a barrow in the Berkshire Downs where if you leave a coin, Wayland the Smith will mend your sword. I brought Cortana there, and it does seem to be sitting easier in my hand now.”

She wanted to tell him the rest—of Wayland the Smith, of her swearing fealty as a paladin. She had not told Matthew. It was too new, then, and there was too much wonder in it. And now, she found, she could not tell James, either; it was too much, too strange a tale for tonight. If all went well, she would tell him tomorrow.

“They say Wayland the Smith made the sword Balmung, which Sigurd used to kill the dragon Fafnir,” James said, stripping off his jacket and braces. “A king imprisoned Wayland, to try to force him to forge weapons. He killed the king’s sons in revenge, and made goblets from their skulls and a necklace from their eyes.”

Cordelia thought of the blue stone necklace Wayland had been wearing and shivered a little. It had not looked even a bit like eyes, but nothing about the man she had met made her believe him incapable of the deeds in the story James was telling.

“They say all swords have souls,” she said. “That makes me feel slightly uneasy about Cortana’s.”

He smiled crookedly, unbuttoning his shirt. “Perhaps not all the stories are true.”

“We can hope not,” she said, as he clambered onto the bed in trousers and undershirt; there were already pillows stacked against the headboard, and a coil of rope on the coverlet. The undershirt left his arms bare from the elbows down, traced with black Marks and the pale scars of faded runes. “I will tie my wrist to the bedpost, here,” he said, “and then, if you could tie the other wrist, it would be safest, I think.”

Cordelia cleared her throat. “Yes, that—that does seem most secure.”

His glanced over at her, his hair ruffled. “What was the trouble with Cortana?”

“It had not felt quite right in my hand since we fought Belial,” Cordelia admitted; that much was the truth. “I think that his blood might have affected it somehow.” Which Wayland himself explained to me, but I cannot tell you that.

“Belial.” James took the rope, carefully looping it around and around his left wrist and binding himself to the bedpost.

His head was down; Cordelia watched the muscles in his arms flexing and relaxing as he secured himself. Though it had been months since the summer, there was still a visible line where his skin was browner, then whiter, below the sleeves and collar of his shirt. “That is why I wanted you in the room with me.” His voice was low, almost rough. “The others know Belial is a Prince of Hell, but only you and I have seen him. Only we know what it means to confront him.”

Finished with the knot, he sat back against the stacked pillows. His hair was very black against their whiteness. For a moment, Cordelia saw again that blasted place where they had fought for their lives: the sand flaming into glass, stark trees like skeletons, and Belial, with all his beauty, and every bit of humanity burned from him.

“You don’t believe the others would be willing to stop you if it meant harming you,” she said. “But you think I would be.”

James gave the ghost of a smile. “I have faith in you, Daisy.And there is one more thing I must tell you.” He squared his jaw, as if he were steeling himself for something. “I kissed Grace today.”

The night lay before James in all its possible horrors, yet at this moment, his whole world seemed to have narrowed down to Cordelia. He knew he was staring at her, and could not stop himself. He did not know what he had expected—she did not love him, that he knew, but he had broken their agreement, his promise to respect her dignity.

In a way it would be easier if she did love him, if he had broken a romantic agreement. He could throw himself at her feet, beg and apologize. She could weep and make demands. But this was Daisy; she would never do either of those things. She said nothing now, only her eyes seemed to have gotten a little bigger in her face.

“She came here,” he said finally, unable to bear the silence. “I did not invite her. You must believe me; I would not have done that. She came unexpectedly, and she was upset about the murders, and—I kissed her. I don’t know why,” he added, because he could not explain to Cordelia what he could not explain to himself, “but I will make no stupid excuses.”

“I noticed there was a crack,” Cordelia said, in a low, expressionless voice, “in the metal of your bracelet.”

The rope looped James’s right wrist, partially concealing the bracelet. Glancing down, he saw Cordelia was right: a hairline crack ran along the metal. “I may have punched the bookcase, after she left,” he admitted. His hand still ached from the impact. “It may have split the metal.”

“May have?” she said, in the same low voice. “And why are you telling me this now? You could have waited. Told me tomorrow.”

“If you are to watch over me all night, you should know who you’re watching,” said James. “I let you down. As a friend. As a husband. I didn’t want to compound that by keeping secrets from you.”

She gave him a long look. A considering look.

“If you wish to leave,” he said, “you can—”

“I am not going to leave you.” Her voice was measured, even. “On the other hand, you have broken our agreement. I would like something in exchange.”

“As if I had lost at chess?” She never failed to surprise him. He almost smiled. “You might want to ask me at a different time, when I am not tied to a bed. The services I can render you at the moment are limited.”

She stood up, leaning Cortana against the wall. The red tea gown she wore was loose but of clinging silk material, with bands of black velvet ribbon at the hem and sleeves. Her hair was a shade darker than the silk, her eyes the same color as the velvet, and fixed on his as she climbed onto the bed.

“Adequate to what I need, I think,” she said. “I want you to kiss me."

His blood seemed to speed up in his veins. “What?”

She was kneeling, facing him; their eyes were on a level. The gown spread around her as if she were a water lily, rising from leaves. Its deep collar plunged low, edged with white lace that feathered lightly against her brown skin. There was a look on her face that reminded James of her expression the night she’d danced at the Hell Ruelle. A determination close to passion.

“You will one day find your way back to Grace, who knows of our situation,” she said. “But I will marry some other man, and he will know I was married to you. He will expect me to know how to kiss, and—do other things. I do not expect a complete tutorial, but I think I could reasonably ask that you show me how kissing is done.”

He remembered Cordelia dancing, all fire. He remembered the moments after that, in the Whispering Room. He could say to her that she hardly needed any teaching from him; she knew how to kiss. But his mind was consumed with the thought of this man, some man she would marry in future, who would kiss her and expect things from her—

James hated him already. He felt dizzy with it—with rage toward someone he did not know, and with how near she was to him.

“Get on top of me,” he said, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears.

It was her turn to look surprised. “What—?”

“I am tied to the bed,” he said. “I cannot get up and kiss you, so I will have to sit here and kiss you. Which means I need you”—he held out his free arm, his gaze never leaving hers—“closer.”

She nodded. A flush had spread across her face, but otherwise she watched him, wide-eyed and serious, as she moved across the bed toward him, crawling a little awkwardly into his lap. His blood was already running hot and fast through his veins as she settled her knees on either side of his hips. Her face was close to his now: he could see the darkindividual lines of her eyelashes, the movement of her lower lip as she took it between her teeth.

“Tell me again what you want me to do,” he said.

The smooth column of her throat moved as she swallowed. “Show me how to kiss,” she said. “Properly.”

He put his free arm around her, angling his knees up so that her back was against his legs. The tea gown rustled, the material tightening as she moved, molding to her shape. He could smell the scent of her perfume: smoky jasmine. His hand slid into her thick, satiny hair, cupping the back of her head. She sighed, settling more closely against him; the feel of her sent a jagged shard of desire up his spine.

Her lips were heart-shaped, he thought: that dent in the top lip, the circle formed by the lower. She was no longer biting her lip, only looking at him, her eyes filled with the same cool challenge with which she’d faced down the Hell Ruelle. There was no reason to treat her as if she were afraid, he realized: this was Daisy. She was never afraid.

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” he said, and when she leaned forward to do just that, he kissed her.

Her grip on him tightened immediately; she exhaled against his mouth, surprised. He swallowed her gasp, parting her lips with his tongue, until her mouth was hot and open under his. He teased the corner of her mouth with butterfly kisses, sucked and licked at her bottom lip as she gripped his shoulders harder. She was trembling, but she had asked him to teach her and he intended to be complete.

With his free hand, he stroked her hair, pulling the last pins from it, tangling his fingers in the thick strands. Her hands moved to cup either side of his neck, her fingers in the curls at his nape. His tongue teased hers, showing her how to return the kiss—how the exchange could be a duel of lips and tongue, of breath and pleasure. When she sucked at his bottom lip, he surged up against her, deepening the kiss ruthlessly, his free hand fisting in the back of her dress, crushing the material.

Oh, God. Thin silk made hardly any barrier; he could feel her body all up and down his own, the shape of her: breasts, waist, hips. He was drowning in kissing her, would never get enough of kissing her. The softness of her mouth, the noises of pleasure she made in between kisses—she moved to get closer to him, her hips rocking against his. A sharp hiss escaped between his teeth. His arm ached; he had been pulling and pulling against the rope restraining him, his body operating by its own set of needs and desires now.

Cordelia moaned and arched against him. Sparks shot through his veins; the need to touch her was blinding, searing, the ache growing in his blood to do more, to have more of her. She probably had no idea what she was doing to him—he barely knew himself—but if she kept moving like that—

She was his wife, and she was adorable, incredibly desirable. He had never wanted anyone like this. Half out of his mind, he moved his lips across her jaw, down to her throat. He could feel the beat of her pulse, inhale the scent of her hair, jasmine and rose water. He kissed his way down, teeth grazing her collarbone; his lips grazed the hollow of her throat—

She drew away swiftly, scrambling off him, her face pink, her hair tumbling freely down her back.

“That was very instructive,” she said, her calm voice at odds with her flushed face and rumpled dress. “Thank you, James.”

He let his head fall back against the headboard with a thump. He was still dizzy, blood slamming through his veins.

His body ached with unexpressed desire. “Daisy—”

“You should sleep.” She was already gathering up Cortana, already sitting back down in the chair by his bed. “You must, in fact, or we will never know.”

He struggled to regulate his breathing. Bloody hell. If she were anyone else, he’d have said she’d intended this as revenge: his body felt ravaged by wanting her. But she had settled herself calmly in her chair, her sword across her lap. Only the slight disarrangement of her hair, the red marks on her throat where his lips had been, showed that anything had happened.

“Oh,” she said, as if just recalling an item of shopping she’d forgotten. “Did you need your other wrist tied as well?”

“No,” James managed. He was not about to explain why further proximity to Cordelia seemed like a bad idea. “This is —fine.”

“Do you want me to read to you?” she said, picking up a novel from the nightstand.

He nodded very slightly. He was desperate for a distraction.“What book?”

“Dickens,” she said primly, opened the volume, and began to read.

#MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA #CORDELIAAAA #REVENGEEEEE #lmao rip #this was hot #jordelia #james herondale #cordelia herondale #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #the last hours #coi #chain of iron #kita's mind #i love this scene #<3333333

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lifewouldbebetteronmars · 3 years

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My Headcanons for Thomastair’s Children:

Their children include; their two adopted daughters Rosie and Harriet. Reminder that this is Modern AU, bu Jasper’s can be for either Modern or post TLH. I might do this for the other ships kids if people like this!

Rosie Lightwood-Carstairs (Age 5):

She was adopted when she was an infant, after being abandoned at a hospital by her biological mother

Rosie is named after Thomas’s deceased older sister, Barbara, and her full name is Barbara Rose Lightwood-Carstairs

She only goes by her middle name because she knows it makes Thomas sad and she doesn’t want to make her father sad

To her and Harriet, Alastair is “baba” and Thomas is “daddy”

Rosie is a social butterfly kind of child, along with being very curious, two things that don’t always go well together

She has a habit of accidentally wandering off while in public and which makes Thomas worry that she’s actually going to get lost some day

Even though she’s not biologically related to him, many people say that she looks a lot like Thomas, which is true

It’s because of her light brown curls and hazel eyes that people say that

Christopher is her godfather and Cordelia is her godmother

Matthew is her favorite uncle, much to Alastair’s chagrin

She doesn’t like to play music, but likes to sit with Alastair when he plays

Rosie likes to draw and paint (especially finger painting)

Alastair and Thomas always hang up her artwork on the refrigerator, they never throw gjem out, they just give them back to her when the fridge gets too full

Rosie usually ends up giving them to her siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, anyone who wants them

She totally has Gideon wrapped around her finger and Sophie likes to tease him about it

Cordelia nicknamed her “petal” and khoshgelam (“my beautiful” in Farsi)

Eugenia calls her “Little Babs”

Thomas calls her “Rosie Posie”, everyone else has also called her that on occasion

Thomas also calls both of his daughters princesa, which is Spanish for princess

Alastair calls her eshgham, which is love in Farsi

Everyone has gone to her princess themed tea parties at least once

Lucie once caught both Matthew and Alastair with tiaras on their heads and feather boas around their shoulders, all the while drinking invisible tea and eating invisible scones

She took a picture of them and sent it to Thomas, who promptly died of cuteness overload

It was on all of the TLH gang’s Instagrams by the end of the day

She is closest to Molly Fairchild out of all of her “cousins”, since they’re the closest together in age

Rosie also loves to play with Cordelia and James’s boys, always making sure that Owen and Michael don’t leave Elliot and Samuel out of their games

Harriet Lightwood-Carstairs (Age 3):

Her name was Harriet when Alastair and Thomas adopted her, but they gave her the middle name Sona to honor Alastair’s mother

She was officially adopted just before her second birthday, but had been with the Lightwood-Carstairs since she was ten months old

Harriet is actually Rosie’s biological sister

Thomas and Alastair were told of her existence from the person who fostered her before her adoption

They immediately wanted to adopt her and they didn’t think twice about it

She has so many nicknames (more than Rosie) that it’s a wonder she knows her real name

Rosie calls her “Harryo”

Alastair and Thomas call her “Hettie”

Isidore and Immy call her “Harry”

Thomas calls her princesa and querida mía (my darling)

Alastair calls her azizam (my dear)

Everyone else has their own nicknames for her

Eugenia and Ariadne are her godmothers (she has no godfather, just two godmothers)

She is shyest one out of the Lightwood-Carstairs kids and she really only comes out of her shell when around her family

Harriet is often seen being held by her parents or godparents

Almost everyone has been a victim of Harriet clinging onto them

It’s like a rite of passage at this point

She loves it when Alastair or Thomas sing to her and often attempts to sing along with them

Thomas swore it was the cutest thing he has ever seen when he walked in on Alastair singing a lullaby for Harriet during nap time and she attempted to sing along

Alastair thinks she’ll be an amazing muscian one day

She speaks with a small lisp that everyone finds adorable

Rosie often drags her along when doing things and says the two of them are partners in crime

In conclusion, Alastair and Thomas are happy and love their children. The end.

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beyondtheciouds · 3 years

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30. Part 2 of 3

"I'm not going anywhere."

Once upon a time there was disengaged and distressed damsel who was supposed to lean out of a tower, praying for a perfect escape. The mission; written on paper was simpler to read between the twisted lines of prose. A famous plot for such a tale of fairies. Instead of damseling distress, our amoured princess found herself outside a cryptic tower.

The roles reversed revealed she was searching six degrees of separated spiritual awareness for her soulmate. The girl, a strange one, indeed was traditionally quite beautiful and kind. Her fairytale qualities had made her a lit match for the handsome prince on many a destitute and dark day.

Her face; oval and cherub cheeked was sweet with everlasting sandstorm curls. Those curls bounced as the heavy axe swung around and around; slicing the prickles of thorns one by one. The last cherry kissed breaths of innocence tortured her heart as blues focused relentlessly on cutting down the evergreen thorns. She was stoical in her approach.

An emotionless blackbird; sure as her name, a stain on the glassy reflection of the burning brilliance of the sky. Light was less than an hour away and she hacked and hacked at the briars until she was untangled. Her hands stung and her muscles burned, and still she pressed onwards.

A church clock chimed five in the distance and the ghost of her remained locked in the moment, steadily tearing and threading thorns. Swollen rose petals were chanting the ancient Latin refrain quietly into the air.

Redi a fluctuationem iusto.

The sky; omnious with luminous shades of yellow and gold; red and orange burned back the black, dark desires as the tower became a pillar in her vision. As if an answer, the clouds opened, spilling tears of regret. Soaked with tears of the angel, our princess's present priorities became irrelevant. The spirits sang their misery to her; cried out the crimson spilling from her palms like a psalm.

The Blackthorns buried secrets twisted her heart; enemy snakes secondary to their belated blasphemy.

Gold simply found a new hollow; a place to call home on the pale throat of the girl's prisoned prince.

The locket was calling for her to come home.

Jesse was calling for her.

Entombed; the ghost boy was an uncurible romantic that had the bad luck of having been written on a path of disillusionment and degradation. His love for the princess had lasted longer than the stars knew. Longer than the moon felt. The heavens aligned with the planets in perfection and harmony the day he first met her in the forest.

Resurrection was his destiny.

Death had been his fate.

But, clinging to the here and now had cost the prince dearly. He knew there were decisions and deceit that clung to his soul, dragging behind him an eternal chain of thorns.

Jesse could hear her heart thumping like the beat of a drum through the crumbling ways of the castle tower. The sweet sound beckoned him like children and church bells.

Our prince, unbeknownst to either had a sinister purpose for staying in the inbetween; he had been a human sacrifice to his mother's insanity. The damning death of his father and the decaying dynasty that his mother had traded her solitary sanity to the devil for became his purpose the day he burned with fever.

Jesse Blackthorn had been meant for the destruction of herons; those desirablely efficient and elegant family of fledgling that had cost his mother everything.

Reader; a private reminder in reference to Romeo andJuliet; lovers starcrossed; mismatched by name. The stage had been set for the unsuspecting crossings of this far fetched fairytale.

My only love sprung from my only hate!

Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

Prodigious birth of love it is to me,

That I must love a loathed enemy.

Fast forward.

The forest was quiet; cold and unkind. Lucie stood in silence; listening to the dirt bend. If she listened hard enough, she could calmly calibrate the change in the atmosphere. Animals were no longer woodland friends; insects had become nusom foes with yellow eyes. The wind had stilled as if anticipation ran through the bones of the trees to the roots of the Earth. Glass jars of fireflies lit up the circle in a vibrant, blinking outline.

Bright eyes were watching beneath the brush; curious and meddlesome. The energy was in the simplest of shadows, perched as birds on the crooked branches.

Bare.

That was how Lucie felt as the shadows hung over. Jesse wasn't sure if this would work, she had known he had reservations from the start. The plan had been borderline absurd. It had taken alot to convince him out of the castle and into the clearing.

Watching. Waiting. Wanting. The spirits were impatient and impacted the atmosphere.

Judging her heart. Everyone was judging her heart.

Lucie became her worst fate; an open book for the world to read. A sigh of sorts escaped and to think the small silver lining was a lifetime away. She felt the chill of death clutch her fingers; a distracting touch more dangerous and damaged that neither ghost nor girl could imagine. Manifesting, a visible hand held onto flesh and bone, bonding.

It is alright, Lucie. Everything will be alright.

Chills deepened the thrills; our heroine's heavy heart kissing and telling even as her lips were unable to contain the forbidden phrase. She continued to repeat the latin over and over in rebellious hope.

Although she was temporarily trapped, she could undoubtedly feel the weight of contempt on her brother's face as his eyes roamed her face. Gold flared at her like a moody afternoon sun and she felt a cold calm growing inside. There was nothing more to say to convince him of the convenience of the spell.

Choosing; she could illuminate the ghosts if she wanted to provide her brother with a better understanding. Their voices grew curious and unsatisfied like a impatient hunger. They wanted to see.

She knew James's soul as sure as the hairs on her arms stood in a field of goosebumps. He would see. He would see.

Lucie nodded to Jesse, absolute and eager as a sliver of the moon drifted in slow motion to the soil. "Are you ready?"

His chest pulled in like he was practicing taking a deep breath. "Yes."

The seven sins stood behind the lit circle; invisible and evolving shapes like ships in the night. Demons summoned by the blue and gold eyes of the Herondales were restricted and restless. They were Belial's witnesses in waiting. Proof that the magic was real.

The friends nervously stood in the circle, kicking the dirt. They were very much unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows.

Lucie watched as Grace painstakingly drew the last pentagram in the dirt a few feet away with a burnt stick from the Fairchild's fireplace.

A nudge; a bump of her hip and her best friend was standing beside her.

Cordelia's presence gave Lucie so much hope. James had awoken her out of a deep sleep and convinced her to come. Lucie didn't know what James had told her, but Cordelia looked ready for a fight. She was dressed in gear as the others were; Christopher, Alastair, and James. Cortana glistened in the fireflies light on Cordelia's hip; the blade the length of her leg. Her blood-red braid swung around as she shifted the sword onto her back. She stood rigidly to the right of James, hands splayed. Clearly she was uncomfortable as her dark eyes settled on Grace.

Lucie was still greatful. She smiled sweetly in the dark, her eyes dazed.

Thomas shivered, watching Alastair with wide, bloodshot eyes. His lingering smile held to ill effects of alcohol and Lucie hoped he wasn't turning into Matthew.

The worried look on Alastair's face said he hoped the same.

"Luce, are we starting?" James asked impatiently, dissolving the silence like sugar.

The sky became eerily dark; not a bird fluttered in trees. The sun was hidden behind the hills and Lucie couldn't shake the awful feeling that unequally washed over her. "Yes."

Silence; silence hung suspicious in the air between Jesse and Lucie. She was holding back her tears as his pine green eyes turned to her. A blanket covered scream wrapped around Lucie, pulling tighter than a corset. It was now or never...

There was too much say and not enough time to speak. Lucie froze.

Grace opened the book and shuffled through a few pages. Her gray eyes scanned the aged passages; a finger sliding down and along as she mumbled at certain paragraphs. "Ah, here we are. Et mortui sunt vivi: Resurrectio."

Blue eyes blinked sinsterly in the depth of shadows among the yellow eyed foes. A hideous grin formed; broken, crooked teeth glowing gold in the pit of darkness. Some of the sins gathered together; around the skeletal smile. In their black hooded robes they were indistinguishable from the shadows.

Pink bloosomed like a rose on Lucie's face as she heard the snake calling her name. Jesse quietly let of her hand and tipped his chin up to the sky. He made his way to the center of the ceremony; transparent and translucent as the moon completely disappeared behind the trees.

Jesse was ready to be alive.

Grace was unusually skittish as she clutched the book, shoving it closed back under her arm. She kept looking at Christopher as she rejoined the circle. It was as though he held the key to something far greater than this resurrection.

Grace's butterfly lashes fluttered, but those solid stone eyes were empty; devoid of the previous day's flirtation. "Did you bring Compound X?"

Christopher nodded and proceeded to pull a covered tube out of his boot. It was the same flashy, purple liquid from before. "Yes."

Thomas eyed the tube skeptically. "Are we sure about this?"

"No--" Cordelia started but was cut off by Grace's cold voice.

"But we're doing it anyway." Grace said, opening the book again. "Let's begin."

***

Will Herondale was getting far too old to be challenging princes of Hell. He stepped forward, out from behind the glass wall with his hands grapling for a weapon among the metals. "Let Tessa go, Belial."

Belial grinned broadly at Will, the subsequent approval apparent in his silver eyes. "Or what, Herondale?"

"I will....I will..."

Tessa struggled in Tatiana's grip; her arms pinned behind her back. Her long, brown hair was loose and whipping as she moved. "HE'LL KILL YOU."

Belial smiled wickedly, "Oh, it is so lovely you haven't lost your fire dearest."

Will Herondale was in the worst shape of his life. He wasn't about to attempt an attack on the Prince of Hell, but if it just happened that was another story.

#cassandra clare #the last hours #lucie herondale #the shadowhunter chronicles

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froppy-butterflyfan2000 · 1 year

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Mermay 2023

Cordelia: What a beautiful melody.

Morphea: 🎶🎶🎶🎶

Cordelia listening to Morphea’s song, unaware the dangers of listening to her voice.

Cordelia Thomas Butterfly, daughter of Star Butterfly and Jackie Lynn-Thomas, belongs to the author of the stories of Cordelia’s universe, The Butterfly Ballad and Cordelia & Phoebe, @aj-thegreatest.

Morphea Butterfly Greason, daughter of Star Butterfly and Oskar Greason, belongs to the author of Saga of The Seven Deadly Sins, @dangerpack/@citadelstarcosevendeadlysins.

#Cordelia Thomas Butterfly #Morphea Butterfly Greason #mermay 2023 #mermay #Starkie #Ostar #svtfoe fandom #svtfoe fanart #svtfoe next gen #SVTFOE next gen fanarts #cordelia and phoebe #citadel of starco: the seven deadly sins #saga of the seven deadly sins #sloth #cordelia #morphea greason butterfly #morphea

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citadelstarcosevendeadlysins · 10 months

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Ah, the beach, it is a wonderful time to goes surfing and building sandcastle with your friend, Phoebe Jacobs. Especially when it is the season is now summer, the best season of your entire life, Cordelia Thomas Butterfly! You can goes and have fun at the beach every day until September.

However…

A hardstyle music start to play in the background. That is odd? You could have swore that you heard only just seagull cawing and the ocean waves with car driving and the smell of gas in your nostril. You listen to the music carefully and felt drowsy, not before picking up the beautiful melody. A familiar melody.

Your eyes widen in absolute shock and fear. Your mind went down memory lane, when The Magical High Commission and Dari, with inside help, manage to saves you.

“Interesting,” said the Magic Aficionado, Dari Oridonia-Bloomgren examined you. You felt uncomfortable when being watch. Especially when you were in your mermaid form. You hate being the center of attention. “Who would have thought a mewman is powerful enough to put a mermaid to sleep. Wish I were there for further research.”

“Be careful what you wish for. Wishes do have consequences as well,” said Rune, a member of The Magic High Commission. Then they turned to you. Their eyes are serious and concern for your safety. “Don’t listen to her music, Princess Cordelia,” they said. “You’re lucky you made it back alive. She is a dangerous criminal.”

Remembering Rune’s warning, you grabs a hold of your best friend’s hand and fleeing to safety.

“Oh no, no, no! I should have listen to Rune’s warning! And Dari’s-!” You said, then quickly realize something. “I need to get her advice!”

Phoebe, your best friend and current wielder of your wand is surprise and do not know what it is going on. The music and your reaction.

“Since when you listen to Dari?” Phoebe questioned.

As you and your best friend run for safety, Sloth, also known as Morphea Greason Butterfly take a notice of the two girls fleeing. It is absolutely tiring to look at the two, after finally coming to this universe. Oh well. They will never escape her concert. Meanwhile Apollo, whose listen to Morphea’s music, sadly passed out and is now sleeping on the pavement. Oof.

Apollo, son of Brittany Wong and Oskar Greason belongs to @yah-gurl-ari, AJ’s friend and editor of Cordelia & Phoebe.

Cordelia Thomas Butterfly, Dari Ordonia-Bloomgren, Phoebe Jacobs, and Rune belong to @aj-thegreatest, the author of her Starkie AU series, Cordelia & Phoebe.

Morphea Greason Butterfly belongs to @dangerpack/@citadelstarcosevendeadlysins.

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aj-thegreatest · 2 years

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Here’s what Star and Jackie look like in Cordelia and Phoebe! Wanted to keep their styles, but make them more adult (a relative idea). Also some facts if you’re interested.

Star spends most of her day on Mewni, but comes back home…eventually. Whenever her job is done, and she’s usually late. So Cordelia sees Jackie more than Star.

Jackie runs a skate/surfboard shop (Called Skate and Surf), a rebrand of her uncle’s shop. It’s fairly popular and makes good money. Doesn’t compare to Queen money, but helps for savings

When at work, Star doesn’t wear royal gowns. Instead she wears a professional, but quirky version of her normal clothes. They also look modern! (I’ll try to have those out sometime this week?)

Both Star and Jackie try to plan out date nights! Sometimes they get rescheduled, other times they make it. It’s a toss up, but it’s the thought that counts. Hopefully.

More of a statement but Stars tired! All the time! Those eye bags came at 18, and they haven’t left since.

#svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #star butterfly #jackie lynn thomas #star vs fanart #svtfoe fanfic #cordelia and phoebe #my art #uhhh here you go! hoping I’ll get more stuff out soonish

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alastairstom · 2 months

Note

What is ur personal favourite, hands down recommended reading order? The way you like most, the way that's the most optimal way of reading it? According to you of course (and maybe including extra chapters) ? :))

Key:

Cassie Clare Canon -> If a short story is listed by name, it means I recommend you read it there rather than where I list the rest of the story collection. Or, you know, you could reread the story and have fun ;)

My fanfic

NOT PUBLISHED YET. Indicates a WIP that I am actively working on. I did not list WIPs that I am not actively working on.

My fanfic, but NSFW

@vwritesaus fanfic because I accept all her works as canon and also we share almost every headcanon so they fit in with all the other stuff on this list.

W/T -> Wessa

M -> Matthew

EIR -> Expert in Romantics Series

T/A -> Thomastair

TWLTB -> Together We'll Learn to Breathe Series

J/C -> Herondaisy

Note: I have only included fanfics that are fully canon compliant. I have others as does V, and you should read those too :P But these are just canon and bonus chapters.

TID

When Our Eyes Meet, Darling, I Fancy You

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? W/T

Leaves, Cider Donuts, and William Herondale W/T

Happy Birthday, My Tess W/T

Tale as Old as Time W/T

The Howling Wind W/T

My Hips and Thighs and Whispered Sighs (Oh Lord) W/T

The Whitechapel Fiend

A Tale of a Great Behemoth W/T

Nothing But Shadows

Cast Long Shadows

Come Feel This Magic I've Been Feeling Since I Met You T/A

Every Exquisite Thing

A Combination of Shock and Awe M

The Midnight Heir

The Penultimate Hours

Chain of Gold

Empty Bottles, Heavy Hearts, the Memories of Broken Dreams T & Lily

The Letter Game

Part-Time Soulmate, Full-Time Problem T/A

Chain of Iron

Chain of Thorns

Daisy, My Daisy... J/C

breathe T/A

Enouement J/C

Chrysalism T/A

Can We Dance Through an Avalanche? T/A

Serindipity Ari/Anna NOT PUBLISHED YET.

Adronitis NOT PUBLISHED YET.

A Therapeutic Chain of Events T/A TWLTB

The Closet Game A & C

The Golden Age of Something Good and Right and Real T/A

Butterflies J/C

Prices & Vices (I End Up in Crisis) M & A

Your Flower's Filled With Vitriol M & A

In the Gutter, Looking at the Stars M & A

The Name We Give Our Mistakes M

Summer Went Away (Still the Yearning Stays) M

Love Thorns All Over This Rose J/C

You Drew Scars Around My Stars T/A TWLTB

Passed Down Like Folk Songs (The Love Lasts So Long) T/A

Taffy Stuck and Tongue Tied A & Grace

It's a Love Story (Baby Just Say Yes) J/C

Soul to the Universe (Wings to the Mind) J/C, T/A, M

I Can See You (Up Against a Wall With Me) J/C

Across our Great Divide There Is a Glorious Sunrise M

Fourty-Eight M

Dreamscapes on the Wall T/A

I'm a Fire and I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm T/A

The Diaries of Sir Thomas Lightwood, Age 14 T/A

what's in a kiss (by any other touch would feel just as sweet) T/A

A Troublesome Tale of Truffles & Trifles T/A

Religion in Your Lips (the Altar Is My Hips) T/A

A Dazzling Haze, A Mysterious Way About You T/A

Seeking Lapsang Souchang J/C

The Crown You Never Take Off T/A

Closets of Backlogged Dreams T/A

dear christopher T/A

Life Is Not Complex (We Are Complex) M EIR Eugenia/OC

The Cheap Severity of Abstract Ethics M & T/A

Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby M & T

Got Me Right Where You Want Me, Baby (Could I Be More Obvious?) T/A

More Than Anything: A Thomas and Alastair Drabble Collection T/A

The Besotted Couple's Guide to Half-Baked Mistakes J/C

Privacy Sign on the Whole World J/C

Until the Stars Burn Out: A James and Cordelia Drabble Collection J/C

Flying in a Dream, Stars By the Pocketful T/A

Twenty Minutes T/A

hygge T/A

Like a Candle You Burnt Out T/A

Christmas on the Balcony W/T

The Surprise T/A & C

i'm only me when i'm with you J/C

Every Tear's a Rain Parade From Hell T/A TWLTB

A Dwindling Mercurial High T/A TWLTB

Bloodsucker, Famefucker T/A TWLTB

Baby You Got Lucky Cause You're Rockin With the Best T/A

Is This the End of All the Endings? (My Broken Bones Are Mending) T/A

Dinner in the Dark T/A

For One Moment, Our Lives Met (Our Souls Touched) M EIR Ragnor/Catarina

Fashion Is Ephemeral (Art Is Eternal) Matthew EIR T/A

A Little Sincerity (A Dangerous Thing) M EIR Risa/OC

The Moon in Her Chariot of Pearl M EIR T/A

Days Future: Paris 1912 T/A

A Ribbon of Dream T/A

Kaleidoscope of Loud Heartbeats Under Coats T/A

Moonlight Sonata and I T/A

Connecting the Tide to the Sand That Was Dry T/A

Love on Ice T/A

portrait of a dissipated parisian T/A

Time, Mystical Time M

TMI 1-4

The Red Scrolls of Magic

TMI 5-6

Tales From the Shadowhunter Academy

The Bane Chronicles

TDA, if you absolutely must, but I usually recommend people don't waste their time.

Ghosts of the Shadow Market

The Lost Book of the White

Sentimental Boy Is My Nom de Plume W/T

This Beautiful Beast M T/A and Kit H

TWP

#emmalovesfitzloved reading order #please just save this post or track that tag #so i dont have to do this again lol it takes like an hour #i'll update it though #elfl #ask

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jewishjon · 4 years

Note

Since you are taking prompts, can you do a modern AU where Thomas meets Alastair for the first time at a (any) museum?

The Louvre - A Thomas x Alastair One Shot

Someone jostled Alastair’s arm and he groaned. He tried to push past the giant crowd, rolling his eyes. He got on his tiptoes and tried to glance at the painting in front of him, but all the heads in front of him made it impossible to see. He’d promised his art major sister he’d get a selfie with the Mona Lisa, but he couldn’t even see the stupid painting. Alastair hated being so short.

Alastair didn’t even understand what all the fuss was about. It was just a painting, and a rather boring one at that. All these tourists didn’t seem to agree. Annoyed, Alastair gave up and pushed his way out of the crowd and towards the elevator, rubbing his hurt arm. He scowled. Perhaps if he came later, it would be less busy. Somehow he doubted it.

Alastair took the lift down to the bottom floor and walked out of the glass doors, immediately hit by a blast of cold air. After all, it was Paris in autumn. He’d bought an incredibly expensive all day pass, so he’d be able to go in again, although that was the opposite of what he wanted to do right now.

Alastair leant against the wall and crossed his arms, in a foul mood due to the incessant crowds in the Louvre. He didn’t want to disappoint Cordelia, but he wasn’t sure he could brave the crowds again. He’d much rather be strolling down the Seine or hanging around in a vintage bookstore. Major tourist locations had never peaked Alastair’s interest when planning his gap year in Paris, but Cordelia had insisted. Alastair had planned to spend five minutes there and leave immediately, but all the tourists had decided it would go differently.

“All the tourists got you, huh?” Asked a voice.

Alastair looked up and saw a very tall young man with chocolate brown hair standing beside him.

Alastair raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’ve ever had to deal with not being able to see anything in your life.”

The man laughed. “Surprisingly, I wasn’t always this tall. I had a growth spurt.” The man held out his hand. “Thomas Lightwood.”

Alastair shook it. “Alastair Carstairs. You’re here as a tourist too, right?”

The man chucked. “The accent gives it away, doesn’t it? I’m here on my gap year. I’ve been here for six months already.”

“Really?” Asked Alastair. “Me too. I arrived last week.”

“That makes sense.” Said Thomas. “Take a tip from me: never visit big tourist sites. You’re just asking for trouble, and it’s not worth it most of the time.”

“Believe me, I know that.” Replied Alastair. “I’m only here to get a photo for my sister.”

“Then let me help you. You may not realise it, but you’re talking to an expert here. I wanted to see some paintings here too, and it doesn’t matter how tall I am. I absolutely can’t stand crowds. I figured out that there’s window that’s always open at the side of the building. You can use it to get in at... less busy times.”

Alastair froze and stared at Thomas like he was insane. “Are you suggesting that we break into the Louvre?”

Thomas smirked. “You could put it that way, yes.”

Alastair’s mouth fell open. “You’re mad. You’re actually mad.”

Thomas shrugged. “You can believe what you want to believe. But I’m telling you, I’ve done it before. It works.”

Alastair contemplated what Thomas had said, and was about to walk away when his phone buzzed. He picked it up, and saw he had a new message from Cordelia. It said “have you been to the louvre yet?? Did you get a photo??? I want to see!!”

Alastair paused for a second and sighed. “... fine. I’ll do it. But if we get arrested, you have to bail us out.”

Thomas smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s fine.” He took a deep breath. “Do you want to eat lunch with me?”

Alastair tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he looked at the handsome stranger. He nodded.

“Yeah. That would be nice.”

Thomas and Alastair talked at the cafe for hours until it shut at four o clock and they were kicked out. They then walked along The Seine and passed the Eiffel Tower. Thomas showed Alastair his favourite bookshop in Paris, and in no time the sun had set. It was time.

Thomas led Alastair to a corner at the edge of the Louvre building. There, someone had left open a large window. Thomas had said it was to let in fresh air to the staff toilets. Thomas climbed in first. He was so big it took a while, and Alastair had to look away so he didn’t stare at Thomas’ backside or his bulging muscles as he climbed in.

Alastair went in next, and Thomas held his hand to help him in. Alastair brushed some dirt off his trousers and followed Thomas as they crept out of the toilets and into the centre of the museum. They had to stay completely silent to make sure none of the cleaners heard them. The lights were nearly all off and Alastair had to look carefully to make sure he didn’t trip on anything as he walked.

They took the stairs up to the top floor. Alastair had to stop for a second to catch his breath, and scowled when Thomas looked at him panting and chucked lightly. They walked past hundreds of paintings, until they eventually reached the Mona Lisa. Alastair had to admit that perhaps he’d been wrong about it. It was so small, yet it was so beautiful. It had so many hidden layers - like Thomas. Alastair pushed the thought from his head.

Thomas nodded to indicate it was time. Alastair took out his phone and posed next to the painting, grinning. He took a few photos and sent them to Cordelia before putting his phone back in his pocket. Him and Thomas stood next to each other looking at the most famous painting in the world in silence.

Thomas slowly reached out his hand and slipped it into Alastair’s.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Murmured Thomas suddenly.

Alastair nodded, very aware of his hand in Thomas’. “It is.”

Thomas paused. “Like you.”

Alastair froze. Slowly, he turned to look at Thomas, his heart pounding. Thomas leant forward and their lips locked.

Alastair rested his head on Thomas’ shoulder. He didn’t know what would happen next, but he knew that Thomas still had six months left in Paris. Somehow, this felt like just the beginning.

#chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns #chog #cog #cog2 #the last hours #tlh #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #lightstairs #cordelia carstairs

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