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#chain of gold fanfiction
moony401 · 1 year
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Is anyone else upset about how little Herondaisy there is in Chain of Thorns? Like I know I’m insane but I wanted at least some of these things;
Cordelia to make a sacrifice that led into James bringing her back, linking into why the Carstairs owe the Herondales
The Layla and Majnun story and for James to read to Cordelia when she was wounded after doing something brave.
James to call Cordelia ‘Layla’. (Even “Daisy, my Daisy” didn’t feature…)
The line “I suffered every thorn for you I would again”.
Chess games where they revealed things to each other?
Second marriage runes.
For the Belial confrontation to be more Herondaisy focused.
A proper love confession. Like Will had his whole Tale of Two Cities “Last dream of my soul” speech, I was convinced James would have a “to the last hour of my life” love declaration.
Anyways….
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the-merry-thieves · 11 days
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Curzon Street Confrontation, rewritten from Anna's POV
An Anna Lightwood fanfiction/POV rewrite
After an eventful debrief at Curzon Street, Thomas, Christopher, and Anna walked out to the front steps together. Cordelia’s news of the night was still spinning in Anna's mind when she saw Ariadne standing beneath the steps.
“Ari.” Anna moved leisurely toward her on the pavement, making a point of stopping to take a puff of her cheroot. Ariadne had donned her gear from earlier that day and was now in an olive green dress that came in at the waist, accentuating her elegant figure. She looked as beautiful as she always had. “Taking a walk?”
“I wanted to see you,” Ariadne said. “I thought we could—”
Anna stopped the other girl in her tracks. She wouldn’t let Ariadne say anything that might faze her, wouldn’t let Ariadne see the reaction her words might evoke. “Go to the Whispering Room?” Anna blew a long, slow smoke ring and watched it dissipate into the cold night. “Not tonight, I’m afraid. Tomorrow afternoon, if you—”
Now it was Ariadne’s turn to interrupt Anna. Her voice was steady with resolve. “I was hoping we could go to your flat.”
To this, Anna said nothing, only willed her face not to betray her. Over the past two years, she had worked to make her flat a place of comfort, a place that was fully hers. She did not think she could bear being in such a vulnerable space with Ariadne. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I have an assignation tonight.”
This was true; it was no secret that Anna had a penchant for debauchery, and that she enjoyed the novelty of having a different girl in her bed with each fortnight. Besides, after the battle at the courtyard, Anna had been in the mood for a little fun with a pretty mundane girl. That is, until she saw Ariadne.
Ariadne faltered, and Anna could see a momentary flicker of hurt pass through her eyes. But she covered this up with a smooth, cordial nod of understanding that made Anna’s heart pang inexplicably.
“Today,” Ariadne pressed on, “when we were in the courtyard—when we were first attacked—you pushed me behind you.”
Anna raised her eyebrows. “Did I?” she asked in her best nonchalant voice, tapping the cheroot between her fingers.
But it was no use; they both knew it was true. Anna knew that she had been unguarded in that instant, letting her face reveal true fear as she thrust Ariadne out of harm’s way. She cursed herself—two years of forgetting, reinventing, and she was still letting Ariadne throw off her guard. She wouldn't let it happen again, starting with this encounter.
“You know you did,” Ariadne said. “You would protect me with your life, then, but you will not forgive me. I know I asked you earlier—”
Anna sighed. “I am not angry at you, nor trying to punish you. But I am happy with who I am. I do not desire a change.”
“Maybe you are not angry with me,” Ariadne said. Dampness had gathered on her long eyelashes; she quickly blinked it away. “But I am angry with myself. I cannot forgive myself. I had you—I had love—and I turned from it out of fear. And perhaps it was foolish of me to think I could pick it up again, that it would be waiting for me, but you—” Her voice trembled. “I fear it is because of me that you have become what you are. Hard and bright as a diamond. Untouchable.”
The cheroot burned, disregarded, in Anna’s hand. But she merely said, in a cool tone, “What an unkind characterization. I cannot say I agree.”
“I could have managed with you not loving me, but you do not even want me to love you. And that I cannot bear.” Ariadne laced her hands together. They were chapped red from the frigid night air, providing an idea of how long she must have waited for Anna outside the house; Anna hated that she noticed this. “Do not ask me to come to the Whispering Room again.”
Anna shrugged, feigning indifference. You are Anna Lightwood, conqueror of others' hearts and ruler of your own; you will not let anyone see you otherwise, she reminded herself. “As you wish,” she said. “I had better go—as you know, I do not like to keep a lady waiting.”
Anna swiftly strode down the steps without another glance at the girl who had broken her heart once and had just broken it again tenfold. She managed to walk only a short distance before sinking down into the unforgivingly hard cobblestone steps of a neighboring house. She laid her head down on the steps and shook silently; no tears would come. She had not cried in so long, it seemed her body had forgotten how to do so.
Anna knew that she had pushed Ariadne away this time, that she had hidden her heart away with intention. For this very reason. So you wouldn't get hurt when something of this sort happened. She thought, trying to convince herself of the assertions she had clung to for years. But if they were true, why did she feel as though her heart had just been run through with a thousand daggers?
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Alright, I hope you enjoyed!! The dialogue is verbatim from the book so credits to the wonderful Cassandra Clare (and of course the characters are also Cassie's), but Anna's thoughts/the things in between are mine!
I'd love to get more involved in the fandom and meet new Shadowhunters-loving friends, so please comment your thoughts and message me if you want!
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luciehercndale · 4 months
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I really love your Ghostwriter fics! Is there any chance I could request a mildly spicy fic of Lucie and Jesse’s wedding night? No pressure if you don’t want to. I know a lot of people think they’re too innocent and youthful for that sort of thing, even as adults, but personally I think that being physical would be an important part of their relationship given how Jesse was literally semi-corporeal for most of the story.
Alrighty, anon. It took me a while (you sent this ask on October 2 lol) but finally, after almost two months and half, I am here with what you asked for. So this is my take on Lucie and Jesse's wedding night, which is something I see happening 5-6 years after canon.
I wrote two versions because I wanted to make it as accessible to people who don't like E-rated things. The E-rated fic is from Lucie's POV, whereas the M-rated (I swear it's cleaner than it seems) is from Jesse's POV. I think this story took me a while to write because they are so dear to me and I wanted to write it as realistically as possible. And... here it is. I hope you like it 💜🥺
PG/M Version (Jesse's POV)
E Version (Lucie's POV)
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ghostwriterfest · 5 months
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Ghostwriter Fest
2023
Hello all! Welcome to this year's ghostwriter fest! The TSC fandom hasn't celebrated Lucie and Jesse in a while, and we decided we should change that!
Ghostwriter Fest will run October 30 - November 6, and late submissions will be accepted until November 1st for reblogs or on the AO3 collection. We've included some prompts below, loose enough to allow lots of creativity.
October 30th - Green and or Blue
October 31th - Snow/Winter
November 1 - Ballroom Dancing/Masquerade Ball
November 2 - Writer AU
November 3 - Post-canon
November 4 - Ghosts/Monsters/Supernatural AU
November 5 - Fairytale Ending
There are no rules except no hate and to support each other. Please send an ask if you have questions. Have fun!
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reality-exodus · 3 months
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The Last Hours of a Herondale
Ch.1 Better Angels
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Pair: Matthew Fairchild x reader
Words: 2k
Summary: James' twin sister, just like him and Lucie has an unexplained ability, she sees visions of the past and the future occasionally when she touches an object or a person. What happens though, when she sees herself dying?
Warning: maybe blood?
I was surveying the demon battle; I didn’t ponder much as my twin brother and his Parabatai danced with the demon. I was sitting ready to intervene in case it was necessary, I had a bad feelings and unfortunately my gut was usually not mistaken.
James disappeared once again, it used to happen a lot more than that, and it would keep happening to him. The moment he was out of sight I jumped down from the rooftop I was observing. Before I landed I heard Matt’s scream, I immediately took out my whip slapping it in the air as the electricity. I didn’t know if my brother was back and I couldn’t care less about the usual catchphrase Matt would mock me with before running into a battle “Sit back and watch how it’s done”. He is my brother’s Parabatai, namely, the same as James. I was holding Matthew’s stele at the ceremony.
“Dodge” I exclaimed as I had the demon still for some moments, I took out a dagger and threw it at the demon. Matt followed my instruction without further notice.
My plan though didn’t work out for long as the demon escaped the tie of my whip letting me fall backwards.
“Y/N/N!” Matt exclaimed and turned at me, he was actually worried.
“I won’t break Matt, where did the demon go?” I asked and stood up and stepped forward as I activated the voyance rune upon my wrist.
“Lurked back into the shadows” he spoke up confidently. Matt paced further in the dark alley and the demon hissed loudly and gripped his shoulders tightly. He screamed as the demon managed to dug its nails to his shoulders, its mouth opened up in four and he hissed to his face as I leaped on its back and stabbed it with a seraph blade but before its blade could dug through its skull its head turned 180 degrees, its stinky breath straight to my face.
Moments flashed and I saw my brother be back. Deumas roared again and pressured the blade to its chest yelling the angels name, but once he threw Matt off of him and then its attention turned to me, James was already there, he swung his arm back pulling my seraph sword out as I fell on my back in the shadows.  James looked like he was losing it.
“James!” I yelled, unaware if he heard me, the demon slapped him as he seemed to disorientate. I groaned in pressure as I prevented another hit to my brother with my daggers. Suddenly the demon was swept off his feet, three chords wrapped around its legs pulling it backwards. It was Thomas standing behind us with his bolas. Thomas was tall and had a massive physique.
“I am alright” my brother assured me and I dodged to the side retrieving my weapon and returning it on my belt. I let my whip loose again and trapped its upper body as Thomas was still holding it in place. With the corner of my eye I noticed Christopher helping Matt, before I returned to the demon that soon burst out in an explosion of ichor and demon blood that showered me and everyone else but my brother.
“Matthew, Y/N-.” My brother begun and as I was wiping the slime from my cloths.
“How- Wha-?” Christopher shuttered and I raised an eyebrow.
“Do you mean how we tracked down the last demon in London?” James asked as he carefully offered me a napkin. “Or that it is also the most disgusting thing?” I was surprised on how calm and normal his voice sounded. I knew he was innerly shaking.
“Or that James managed to make us a mess and yet stay out of it.” I commented to lighten the atmosphere as I wiped the last bit of ichor from under my chin there was a small burn mark from it there. He was the only one untouched.
I saw Thomas roll his eyes in annoyance as he was covered in ichor as Matthew sputtered the seraph blade that defused. “This is an outrage” he commented tossing the weapon aside. “Do you know how much I spent on this waistcoat?” he asked with annoyance and complaint.
“Plus no one told you to go demon hunting dressed like an extra from the Importance of being Earnest” James pointed out, he handed another napkin to his parabatai as well. He was standing between us.
Thomas spoke commenting on Matt as well. Therefore I didn’t hear him. “James, your hand…” I noticed a gash across his palm, I took out my stele and touched his at hand. He removed himself from his grip looking at me for any sign of seizure but I pointed at my gloves and smiled as I drew an iratze. It was usually Matt’s work, but it was only a gash.
Us twins had our very own gift as our parents call it trying to convince us it is not a curse,  though nor me neither my brother feel it like a gift, it is an uncontrolled ability we have, that activates randomly. James changes dimensions, he comes back though, his episodes do not last this long and there is nothing we can usually do as he physically disappears. I on the other hand, see visions, usually unclear and enigmatic concerning the object or the person I came in contact with. While I see those dreams, I am falling into a sort of seizure. This happens since I am ten, my uncle Jem though, gifted me a pair of enchanted gloves to wear and I have to admit that it has been helpful.
“Thomas! Stop scrubbing at me” Christopher said, windmilling his arms. “We should go back to the Devil and get cleaned there.”
“I agree, its starting to get chilly.” I spoke and secured my stele inside my pocket. Matt looked at me and removed his fancy waist coat and placed it around my shoulders gently.
“Care to tell me how much you spent on it?” I asked in a mocking way as everyone started walking to the Devil’s Tavern.
“Its useless now either way” Matt replied as I wrapped it better around me while we were walking there. I rarely went to the Devil, it was a hide out, a safe spot for my brother and his friends. I knew it wasn’t true but I felt as I intruded… Maybe because this is how I felt when someone invaded my atelier or music room.
“I almost didn’t recognize the lot of you when you tramped in here covered in whatever you call it…” The waitress commented and I looked at her, Polly I think it was her name. There were welcome exclamations galore, the boys were really loved around here, fairly though.
“Its been ages since we have seen a demon in London” said James
“I reckon they are all too scared to show their faces…” Polly spoke.
“Scared?” James asked confused. The rest of the boys were spread across the Tavern, Christopher and Thomas went to eat and drink some water, while I saw Matt bottoming up a whole glass of a brownish liquid which was one hundred per cent alcohol. 
“Scared of what?” I wondered and her gaze fell upon me. She wrinkled her nose, a werewolf she is, she probably smelled ichor, blood and sandalwood upon me.
“And what a beauty like you is doing in such dirty shit hole.” She spoke, obviously avoiding my question.
“You have seen me before…” I commented puzzled at the reaction of the wolf. She extended her hand and gripped my chin lightly and turned my head to the side. I felt my breath be caught upon my chest, intention was good as she dragged her finger behind my ear taking a drop of ichor.
Within seconds James gripped Polly’s wrist and threw it away from me. I turned to my twin, I knew he was there but I was not there, I could see a girl, Polly, go down an alley, she was so carefree and happy until the person next to her suddenly started to change. She would scream and shout for help but the eldest werewolf didn’t seem to be phased, he simply bit her. I squeezed my eyes, I couldn’t watch and therefore there she was, young Polly, her expression twisted in pain and agony from the lycanthropy infection. I opened my eyes again and I could see, or more like sense my brother, he was calm, it was a usual thing for me. I would be alright in about five minutes. I let out a soft cry I was surveying Polly turn into a werewolf for the first time. It felt like forever until I shot up.
I looked around, I found myself into the attic of the Merry Thieves, it was a small space with one bedroom. I was laying on the bed while I still had Matthew’s coat as a blanket over me. I took my time to make myself obvious and I caught an interesting conversation about ‘Grace’
“Her name is Grace” said James, a hint of annoyance upon his voice. I could smell the gin on him as he was sitting on the bed next to me.
“Exactly, Grace” Agreed Thomas “Aunt Tatiana’s always kept them both in splendid isolation in Idris- no visitors at all- but apparently she’s decided to move back to London, so my parents are all in a dither about it” he explained and this unlocked so many memories of our childhood times in Idris where James would secretly go to meet Grace. I did not like her that much as I got along better with Barbara Lightwood, Thomas’ eldest sister.
“Grace? To London?” James asked in complete disorientation.
“Seems Tatiana wants to bring her out in society” Thomas looked puzzled at my brother’s reaction. “I suppose you’ve met her in Idris? Your house is next to the Blackthorn manor, isn’t it?” It was true, We used to meet her every Summer.
There were moments of silence as there was no one responding so it was the time to make the fact that I returned to reality known. “And where will she stay?” I asked the thing my twin wouldn’t dare and I felt his relief wash over his figure as he turned at me.
“Hello there” James smiled at me and patted my knee as I was curled in a ball under Matt’s coat.
“Are you feeling alright? You seemed to doze off at Polly’s charms” Math’s voice sounded smooth and sweet as he joked with me.
“I will live, apparently” I smiled lightly as I felt uncomfortable to speak about Polly. “Too bad for your coat, you won’t have it back today.” I added and curled in a ball under it. It had his smell.
“No worries, it was disposable after James’ smart move” Matthew replied with a charming smile and he patted my head gently.
“Awee how sweet of you” spoke up with a sigh. I felt lightheaded as I sat up, making an effort to balance my head. James held my shoulders not attempting to touch me again, afraid that there would be another episode.
“Your hand…” I noticed as it seemed that my iratze didn’t work as needed.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Matthew asked and his slim but muscular hand slipped out his stele. I could see his veins as he was preparing his stele.
Thomas approached me with a toast and I chuckled lightly as he offered it to me. “You something bad for Polly, didn’t you?” he asked me. Math and Jame were further but I could notice that they were listening to me.
“I did, but I am actually used to seeing bad things” I explained and certainly did not deny the fact that I was hungry too much. “This is pretty good” I smiled at my cousin as he poured some water in a glass.
“I don’t mean to be the first one to leave a party” announced I, so as to get their attention “however I shall be making my way to the institute.” I spoke up and James seemed to dislike the idea.
“Perhaps you should stay for a bit and then we can return together.” My brother remarked and looked at me. I was trying to understand was it he was fearing fathers wrath or he was extremely worried about me.
“No, I’d rather not” I smiled at him “Do not concern yourself James. I will be completely fine. I promise.” I sat up taking my time to stand up from the old wooden bed of the attic. Thomas was right next to me, I am certain he was pondering where to support me if needed without jeopardizing to have another episode.
“How exactly do you expect me to do that, when you just had an episode” he remarked as he approached me once Math was done drawing an iratze rune upon his skin
“And you had an episode of your own as well and with us not knowing what was the cause of it. At least with me you saw it coming.” I spoke with my voice raising by the note. I was so disturbed by the fact that he considered the incident with me so much more important  than his even though it was considered during battle.
“Y/N!” he exclaimed.
“James!” I yelled back almost immediately, it was a reflect that took over and I could not control. I knew that I was supposed to be the delicate girl amongst the boys that were mostly friends of my brother. Nevertheless I could not stand the unfairness of the matter. I was the girl he was the boy we were in the same danger and our troubled moments were just as random and I could not fathom the fact he was being the same phallocratic male like the ones were asking for my hand were.
I started walking to the exit of the attic and Matthew got my elbow. I tried to conserve my gaze therefore I just couldn’t help and stare at him, deadly. “I am going home on my own! I am pretty capable of doing so and I do not need anyone to protect me or my honor. In case it wasn’t noticed I saved Math twice just some hours earlier when you had one hell of a random disappearance to God knows where. Perhaps papa would be interested in a more detailed version of tonight’s success.” I stated, my angry gaze met James’ who’s blood I could feel boiling.
“You wouldn’t dare.” He growled, his teeth greeted and his jaw clenched, his outfit was still well-stood unlike mine. I looked like I was in a battle indeed, my hair tucked in a messy bun with all the braids rogue and my clothes filled with stains and scratches.
“Well, I thought you wouldn’t dare to imply that I wouldn’t make it home alone… And yet here we stand.” I spoke up and threw the coat at Matthew who caught it.
“No keep it, I will come until some point, I need some quality bourbon not this, whatever it is.” Matthew spoke and walked out.
“Whatever” I shrugged my shoulders and walked out of the attic. I knew this would calm down James, just as I knew Matthew would trust me, even though he looks like he doesn’t care at all about me or anyone for that matter…
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thrxughthenxght · 8 months
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You said to give you requests so here I am!
"Are we flirting?" "That's up to you." For gracetopher??
Lock & Key
Prompt: "Are we flirting?" "That's up to you."
Words: 1568
Thank you so much for this Bella!! I really like how this turned out and it's just in time for gracetopher week day 7 🤗 Thank you!
Also I haven't read CoT at all so forgive me if this isn't canon compliant. I did my best to be semi-canon. Let me know if you'd like to be on my taglist!
If Christopher wasn’t with his family or his friends he was with Grace. They were walking outside or reading in the library, but most of the time they were in Christopher’s lab, Grace preferring his home to the Fairchild household. Christopher missed the supplies Henry had but he had decent enough items in his lab, and he preferred Grace comfortable. Grace was often tense around other people, even if he tried to assure her all was well. She was quick to jump and fidget and twice she had been the first to exit a room if something startled her, always ready to exit. Now, in the light of the candles on the walls, he noticed the change in her edge.
Her shoulders were relaxed as she measured, and her knees were bent in front of her, her feet resting on the highest run of the stool she sat on. She lacked a corset so could slouch, when usually she was rigid like a log. Her hair was tied upon her head, a few bright strands falling from the hastily done updo. She wore the smallest pair of goggles he could find, and they framed her icy eyes, letting the light illuminate the iris'. Her lips were pressed in a hard line, a slight squint to her features in the thinning of her eyes and wrinkles of her nose. She was deep in thought with that face, and Christopher was both shocked and mortified when she suddenly looked up.
She raised an eyebrow at his staring, and he turned away. "Apol-apologies," he murmured softly, trying to focus on his notes. "You were very focused."
The goggles made a soft noise when the leather scraped the wood. She walked over to him, peering over his arm at the notes. "You're allowed to look at me," she said. "You're not the type to hurt a woman because you find her attractive."
"I wouldn't- I, um-" he sputtered for a moment, tripping over words as he did his own feet when he stepped backwards. He fell on all fours, his rear hitting the stone floor and a grunt flying from his mouth, cutting off his scramble for a response. They stared at each other for a few long moments, then Grace quickly turned away and covered her mouth. Christopher shot up, dusting himself off in the few steps it took him to get over to her. His hand hovered over her shoulder. "Did I startle you? I'm sorry-" Her shoulders started to shake gently and when she looked up he saw the crinkle by her eyes, but no tears. He furrowed his brow. "Are you... Are you laughing or crying? Because I'm not quite sure."
She let her hand fall, and a wide grin was on her face as she laughed gently. He started to lower his hand, relieved he hadn't upset her. He knew she was sensitive to sudden things, whether it be words or movements or memories. He smiled when her laugh got louder, and simply stood and watched her attempt to compose herself. "You fell," she giggled. "Am I truly that frightening?"
He crossed his arms and tried to further straighten his spine. "Grace Blackthorn, you are terrifying."
She smiled. "I'm just a woman."
"And a brilliant one at that."
She shifted to lean on the desk, smiling softer now, but it was close to something mischievous. "Am I not seductive enough for you?"
"That is not a part of your danger."
"No?"
"No. Some people can be seduced. Everyone can be outsmarted."
She smiled. "Well, then I guess we're very dangerous people."
"Indeed." For a moment it was silent, and Christopher cleared his throat. He shifted and broke his stance, looking down before meeting her soft, thunderous eyes. "Is this flirting?"
She shrugged and crossed her arms, tilting her head at him. More of her hair fell to the side. "It could be."
"Are we flirting?"
"That's up to you."
He stood still, trying to understand what she wanted him to do. It occurred to him that many times she had stated she trusted him, but he didn't want to break that trust. Grace was also a person he could spend him time with that involved his primary joys and interests. He loved his friends but he felt best alone with Grace in his lab, their lab. He wanted Grace to be... something, anything. Not to be his but to be theirs. He wanted everything to be theirs. His heart, her strength, his intelligence, her brilliance. He wanted them to be something beyond a friendship but he'd simply never had that before and it was frightening for him. All of Grace's experiences with such things were part of the reason she did not believe in herself or other people, and that scared Christopher most of all. He couldn't bear to be another man on the list of those who wanted her only to hurt her in some way.
"I think-" he snapped his mouth shut, correcting himself. He said he "thought" things far too often when he did in fact know things. "I would like us to be flirting."
She grinned. "So would I."
He lifted his hands gently, as though she could hand him answers. It would be much simpler that way. "What happens now?"
"Well," she said softly, pushing herself off the desk and walking to him until their chests were barely an inch apart. "I would be alright if you wanted to kiss me. Or... touch me, I suppose."
He shook his head. "You want me to do something?"
"Do you not want to?"
"I am frightened to."
She nodded, but her smile was never gone, just a little flicker of light to guide his lips to hers. It was gentle, just a small peck on each other's lips, but it was enough to make Christopher's face warm. She drew back by falling off her toes to her heels and opened her eyes. He blinked for a moment, then started to pull at his sleeve.
"Kiss me again?" She nodded, and he saw a light pink pulling at the snowy complexion of her face.
With another push to her toes she connected their lips again, but this time it was longer. His heart thumped, and another part of his anatomy wanted to join in but he wouldn't allow anything to ruin this; This rush of emotion and immense joy he felt now that he knew Grace wanted him in what was hopefully a similar sort of affection. He could only trust his brain and Grace at the moment, and when his brain slowed that trust fell to solely Grace, but he was quick to trust her to lead him wherever his heart desired. Sometimes it seemed she knew him better than he did. He had seen Matthew kiss girls before, had seen James kiss Cordelia, but he didn't want to do anything James might have done and he didn't fully trust Matthew to be his romantic guide. Instead of wrapping his arms around her he simply rested his hands on her arms, pulling her gently to him and leaning his head down so she didn't have to reach for his lips. Their chests pressed together, and she wrapped her arms around his forearms in return, much like a lock and key clicking into place.
They drew away from each other, and Grace relaxed against him, placing her head on his chest. He stiffened, but took a deep breath when she placed a hand over his heart. "Are you alright?"
She asked, turning her head and looking up at him. He frowned. "Me? I'm fine. Are you?"
She smiled gently. "More than fine, Christopher. I'm very happy."
His smile was quick and light, and he put a gentle kiss to her head, making sure to lean slowly in the event she wasn't happy with the action."I'm glad. I am not one for romance, but," he shook his head, "I have never met someone so wonderful."
She ran her other hand along his arm in soothing lines. "And I have never wanted to love someone so much."
"You could love me?"
"Anyone could love you."
He adjusted his glasses. "I'm not quite sure."
She shook her head. "I know it."
"Then love me."
She laughed gently. "It's not so simple."
"Do you understand love, then?"
"Not in the slightest. Though," she glanced down at the hand that ran the length of his arm. "I'm sure it's like an equation. You need multiple components and some time, then everything will fall into place."
He smiled. "That sounds quite nice."
"Then maybe we should work on it," she looked back up, her gaze so gentle he wanted to hold her closer. "Together."
Together was all it would take, just like many of their experiments. They could go through everything step by step, hand in hand, double checking and erasing their mistakes to make it right. They would figure out how to love, how to be together, as one. That seemed the perfect thing to him, two parts of a whole. One mind and one heart split into two people. That was how they could love, in small pieces they would eventually pick up and fit back together. It was as simple as a lock and a key, with the same hidden depths and perfect unison.
He nodded. "Together."
••••••••••••••••••••••
@iammadeofmemoriesforlife @grace-lightwoodd
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compressednerve · 4 months
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I'm bored at Thanksgiving festivities with Parasite's family so here is a doodle of Trench in his sexy flannel and heather tee shirt and jeans as described from @phenanthreneblue's epic smash hit "Burning The Turkey"... but the wallet chain and neck chain are added by me. Because I love it.
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heronchildlove · 1 year
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Hey everyone, I found the secret second epilogue of Chain Of Thorns. It shows what happens with James, Cordelia and Matthew some years down the line, trust me on this one
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nerdieforpedro · 13 days
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Hi! For your ask game:
🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis
🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?
Jess!!! 😘 Hi!
🛼 = 🏠👓👦🏽📦🤝confusing as it only refers to the first chapter but you know, I don’t make sense. 🤣 It’s my Modern Din where he moves to OFC’s neighborhood after she’s had some circumstances lead her to moving in with her aunt who live next to Din and Grogu. ☺️ (I did cheat again with this but I did give a bonus this time.)
I may…or may not be working on more tales from beyond the gold chain…will they include chain restaurants? Smut? Smoking? Sweatpants? That damn silk shirt? All the above? I dunno, you tell me Jess my sister in Lucian who we may honestly trade between on the boulevard 👀 Erm…🤭 Anyway…
🏜️= Comments I enjoy are those that usually include something about my fic that they liked. Could have been the over all feel, could have been a certain part resonated with them or made them feel x emotion. Because that’s the mind of writer I aim to be. 🥰 I also enjoy ones that are surprised that I wrote something for x Pedro or Oscar character because surprise is always fun it if I enjoy exploring different characters and what I can do with them.
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I’m just going to back into my puddle that had gold chains, sweatpants, silk shirts and beskar all in it. Might be 3 business days or more. Delays due to shipping and all that. 🥸
Fanfic writer ask game
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laylax13s · 1 year
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I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!!!
I'm back to writing!! A new fanfiction is coming (the last hours + Alastair is the mc), it will be pretty depressing and disturbing I may as well warn you. I am not sure about if I should put it into mature or explicit category though, could you help me out?
Contains: r*pe, SA, @bus3, @busive relationships, multiple serious mental conditions, @dd!ct!ons, dr\/gs
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boredfangirl16 · 1 year
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Chain of Lies
Chapter 5: Wounded Souls 
“But Cordelia is alright?” His mother asks for the dozenth time. Alastair is starting to wonder if he should’ve insisted that Cordelia comes home, solely to give their mother physical proof of her well being. It’s tiresome being asked the same question over and over in different words. 
“Yes she is fine, maman,” Alastair insists. “A couple of scratches, but nothing that can’t be fixed with an iratze. She only went to the infirmary to ‘make connections’. Something that you put into her head.”
“You would rather she knows the truth?”
“No,” Alastair says softly, his eyes downcast. 
“Then let her believe what she wants,” his mother says. “Besides she needs to marry and the best way of doing that is by charming the influential. She’s only doing what we planned.”
He refrains from saying ‘what you planned’, because while he knows it would protect his sister, Alastair couldn’t bear to see her in a loveless marriage because of their father’s mistakes. He has already given up enough for that man and he would hate for his sister to have to do the same. Besides, he already despises the thought of loveless arranged marriages for his own reasons. Ones that still hurt, even after all of the destruction of this afternoon. 
“I understand,” he says shortly. “I’m going to retire for the day, if you do not mind?”
His maman nods, but it’s evident she doesn’t like the thought of him locking himself in his room for the rest of the day. She never has understood his need for privacy. Cordelia was always a sociable child within their family, while Alastair has always been more reserved. It only got worse after he learned about his father’s “illness” and after returning from the Academy. Perhaps that’s the reason why everyone loves her more. It would make sense. Alastair was never a likable child and has grown into an equally disgruntled adult. 
He climbs the stairs, but before he can run into his room and shut the door behind him, he’s stopped by Risa. 
“Are you alright, Mr. Carstairs?” She says blocking his path. 
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“There’s blood and ichor on your shirt. I overheard that your sister is just fine, but I didn’t hear anything about your wellbeing.”
Alastair gives a small smile to Risa. 
“It’s nothing. I can take care of myself,” he assures her. 
“I know you can,” Risa says. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to. You do realize that you are only 18? No matter what anyone else says, you are still a child. You are allowed to show weakness and you are allowed to lean on others. You are not alone.”
“Thank you, Risa,” Alastair says sincerely. “But I haven’t been a child in years.”
Risa sighs deeply. “If it was up to me, that wouldn’t be true.” She shakes her head, seemingly lost in the past. “Now go get cleaned up. I’ll keep your mother occupied so that you can have the evening to yourself.”
“Thank you,” he says again and he means it. 
He locks himself in his room and changes into something that isn’t positively filthy. By the time he feels clean enough to burrow himself under his blankets, he’s exhausted. The day had gone even more terribly than he could have ever imagined. A dull picnic filled with endless small talk is better than one that ends in death and destruction. 
By the angel, his troubles sound insignificant given the day’s events. Piers looked dead, not injured or badly wounded, but dead. He’s always had a complicated relationship with the boy given his time at the Academy, but he would never wish this on him. Sure, he’s arrogant and can’t hold a conversation about anything that isn’t himself, but he’s just barely an adult. He hasn’t lived life, he hasn’t had time to change. He deserves more than the gruesome fate that has befallen him. Piers Wentworth is a bully and as dull as English tea, but he doesn’t deserve to die. 
Then there’s Ariadne, who he’s wished to despise, but simply cannot. She was amusing and snarky in ways that few are. If she wasn’t Charles’ fiancee, they could’ve been friends. She’s certainly more interesting than the other women who are simply looking for a hand in marriage at any social gathering. Ariadne was different. Of course that could be partially due to her attraction to women, but Alastair has a nagging suspicion that she might just be an interesting person. 
If she died, would Charles get engaged again? Surely he could claim to be mourning and put off any more engagements before he becomes Consul. The minute Alastair thinks of it, he dispels the thought from his mind. It’s disgusting. She’s more than some fiancee and certainly more than an obstacle in Alastair’s happiness. Ariadne is person, with family and friends who would miss her dearly. It’s more than he could say for himself. 
The last victim was Barbara Lightwood, who Alastair knows very little about. She has some sort of understanding with Oliver Hayward and is sister to Thomas Lightwood. Past that he can say nothing of her character or the life she led. The only reason that he thinks of her at all, is because of Thomas; he cannot imagine the pain he must be enduring. If Cordelia was dying in the infirmary, Alastair would be inconsolable. He would also probably become a very bad person, snapping at anyone who dares to cross his path. Absolutely nothing like Thomas who is the closest thing to an angel that has walked this earth in centuries. Alastair would make the argument that he is even more merciful than Raziel himself. Although, he doesn’t think too much about Thomas. It’s best to keep him in the recesses of his mind, only addressed when absolutely necessary. 
He shakes his head of all his thoughts. There’s no use to worry about the past when the damage has already been done. None of the victims will care if he lies in his bed thinking about them, so he gets up and sits at his writing desk. At first, he isn’t quite sure what he’s doing. He picks up a pen and some paper and then starts to write. 
Alastair knows who he should be writing to, he knows the man that he should be consoling, but instead another comes into mind. One, who no matter how deep down he pushes him, finds a way to rise to the surface. He doesn’t even know what he’s writing. It might not even make sense by the end of it, but it’s all true. Every word he writes is free of sarcasm or snarky remarks. It’s the bare bones of truth that Alastair rarely lets anyone see. He doesn’t even know if he’ll send it anonymously. It might just sit in some drawer collecting dust until someday he throws it away, but he knows that he wrote it. He knows that there’s a very small part of him that can still be kind and compassionate. 
Thomas looks at Barbara’s practically lifeless form in dismay. Everything happened so quickly. One moment it was picnic and the next a bloodbath with his sister in the middle of it. It was impossible. Demons don’t come out during the day. He’s equally baffled and terrified. The whole thing seems like some dreadful nightmare that he can’t seem to wake up from. 
He’s barely even noticed the comings and goings of the Silent Brothers. In fact, he’s grateful that none of them have tried to speak to him because it would take everything in his power not to break down as they announce her condition. 
Everything will be fine. Barbara will be fine. She has to be. 
James tried to sit next to him, but he couldn’t bear it. Not yet. He couldn’t listen to the condolences and false promises that his friends are bound to make. They have no clue what the future holds and their lies will only make everything worse. He would rather harsh truths than sweet lies. 
He sits in morbid silence holding her hand, until their parents come. His mother has tears in her eyes and his father looks as if he’s itching to do something, anything. Thomas supposes that’s one thing they have in common. He doesn’t even remember what they said to him, he’s numb, so out of it. All he knows is that he left the infirmary to stand in the corridor. Everything seems so wrong and he doesn’t know what to do in order to right it again.
Then James comes around the corner and Thomas rushes over to him.
“My parents are here,” he says, his voice low. “James, I need something to do. Something that might help my sister. I think I might go mad otherwise.”
He isn’t even joking. Every moment that he sits and twiddles his thumbs is one moment closer to Barbara leaving to a place that he cannot follow. That cannot happen. He will not allow it.
“Of course—we all must help Barbara,” said James. “Thomas, in the park, Barbara saw the demons before everyone else. She was the one who warned me.”
“She had perfect Sight even before she got her Voyance rune,” Thomas says. “Perhaps because my mother was a Sighted mundane before she became a shadowhunter. We’ve never been sure—Barbara wasn’t terribly interested in testing her abilities—but she always had unusually keen senses.”
“It is almost as if she could glimpse my shadow realm,” James murmurs, just barely audible. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes that gives Thomas hope. He’s putting something together, something that they can do to help Barbara. He doesn’t quite know what it is, but James has always been the smartest schemer of the bunch. “We need to round up Matthew and Christopher. I have an idea of what we can do.”
Thomas nods. “Christopher has just returned from Chiswick. I saw in the entry hall. But as for Matthew I suspect he’s not in the-the best state of mind. I believe I saw him by the carriages.”
“You fetch Christopher, I’ll get Matthew,” says James with a sigh. “We’ll meet in the ballroom.”
The boys go their separate paths as Thomas looks for his cousin. He isn’t all that hard to find as there are sparks coming from around one of the corners, that Thomas promptly puts out. Christopher would set the whole Institute on fire if left to his own devices. He supposes looking after his cousin is one way to keep busy. It’s a job that never seems to end. 
“Christopher, we’re meeting in the ballroom,” Thomas says as he takes his cousin by the arm.
“What for?”
“James has something in mind.”
“How come we listen to James’s plans without question, but not mine?” Whines Christopher. 
“Because his have never ended in fire nor explosions.”
Christopher sighs deeply, but goes along with it and Thomas is secretly grateful. He isn’t sure if he could wrangle the group together given the state of things. He can barley keep himself composed. 
The pair arrives before the rest of the Thieves and Thomas decides to pace the room back and forth until the doors open, revealing James and Matthew.
“We must bar the door,” says James. “They don’t lock, and we can’t be interrupted. Matthew, can you stand?”
The boy falls onto one of chairs at the side of the room looking out of breathe. He’s blinking as if there’s too much light in the room, even though that is far from the case. 
“I am quite all alright,” he says, waving a hand. No one believes him. “Please continue with your plan. What is your plan?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment,” says James. “Thomas?”
He nods and shoves a sideboard in front of the doors. His muscles are good for one thing, he supposes. 
“Perhaps some water?” Christopher says to Matthew, looking rather worried. 
“I’m quite all right,” Matthew repeats. 
“I found you drinking from a flask and singing ‘Elsie from Chelsea’ in the Baybrooks’ carriage,” says James darkly. 
“It was private there,” says Matthew. “And well-upholstered.”
“At least it wasn’t the Bridgestock’s carriage, because they have already experienced enough tragedy today. Nothing bad has happened to the Baybrooks,” says Christopher sincerely. 
Thomas can’t help, but blink at his cousin. The strangest things come out of his mouth, at times. 
“Nothing until now,” says James in retort. “Christopher—was everything all right, dropping off Miss Blackthorn?”
His infatuation with the Blackthorn girl must run deep if he’s bringing her up at a time like this. Thomas still can’t wrap his head around that situation. 
“Oh, perfectly,” says Christopher. “I told her all about culturing bacteria, and she was so fascinated that she never spoke a word!”
Oh, Christopher. 
James busies himself by piling chairs in front of yet another one of the doors as he continues the conversation. “Did you have to tell Mrs. Blackthorn what had happened at the park? She can’t have been pleased.”
Christopher shakes his head. “I confess I didn’t see her. Miss Blackthorn asked that I drop her at the gates, not the front door.”
“She probably doesn’t want anyone to see the state of the place,” says Matthew with a yawn. “The gates alone are festooned in rust.”
“Thomas,” James says to him softly. “Maybe a healing rune?”
A while back, James discovered that healing runes sober Matthew up enough to be functional. It’s a temporary cure for his drunkenness, but none of them really know what to do about the underlying issue. None of them have dared to confront the boy about his problem, they all know he will just deny it. 
Thomas approaches Matthew slowly and sits down next to his friend. “Push up your sleeve, then, there’s a good fellow. Let’s wake you up and James can tell us whatever mad thing he has planned.”
“We’d better check the locks on all the windows. Just to be sure,” says James. What in the world is he planning? Whatever could need this level of privacy?
“It seems somehow blasphemous to use Marks to rid oneself of the effects of alcohol,” Matthew says, as Thomas puts away his stele. The rune immediately takes effect and he looks much more like his normal self. 
“I’ve seen you use your stele to part your hair,” says James dryly as he locks at the window locks. 
“The Angel gave me this hair,” replies Matthew. “It’s one of the Shadowhunter’s gifts. Like the Mortal Sword.”
“Now that is blasphemy,” interrupts Thomas.
Christopher joins James in his quest to check all of the window locks without question. Thomas and Matthew both look hesitant. 
“A thing of beauty is a joy forever, Thomas,” says Matthew. “James, why are we locking all the windows? Are we afraid of over curious pigeons?”
“Perhaps they are locking out stray ducks,” chuckles Thomas. Everyone knows about the Herondale’s strange relationship with the creatures. 
James promptly ignores his comment, “I have spent the past four years of my life trying to train myself not to do what I’m about to do. I don’t wish to even consider the possibility of being interrupted.”
“By a pigeon?” Asks Matthew. “Jamie, what are we doing here?”
James takes a deep breathe before answering. “I am gong to deliberately send myself to the shadow realm.”
Thomas’s mouth drops to the floor and joins in with the chorus of protests that his friends are issuing. He wants to do something, but this is mad. James is going to get himself killed. 
“Certainly not,” Matthew says, standing up. “The danger—.”
“I do not think there will be danger,” interrupts James. “I have been in and out of the  shadow realm many time in my life. It has been ages since I fell accidentally into that world.yet in the past week, I have seen it three times, once just before the attack today. I cannot think that it is a coincidence. If I can use this ability to help Barbaras, Ariadne, all of us—you must let me do it.”
Thomas didn’t know that he had seen the shadow realm before the attack. That is quite odd, indeed. 
“Bloody hell,” says Matthew as he rubs at his eyes. “If we don’t help you here, you’ll just try to do this after we’re all gone, won’t you?”
“Clearly,” said James. He motions towards the daggers at his waist. “I’m armed, at least.”
Matthew fiddles with his ring before responding, “Very well, James. As you wish.” Thomas isn’t sure if his hands are still shaky because of the alcohol or because he is worried for his Parabatai. 
“All right. Let’s get on with it,” says James.
They all stare at him in anticipation as if shadows will just appear around his person. 
“Well?” Says Thomas, trying to disguise the hope in his voice. He doesn’t want his friend to get hurt, but he also desperately wants to save his sister. “Go on into the shadow realm, then.”
James stares at the floor and scrunches up his face in concentration. At first, it looks rather silly as his face contorts when looking at positively nothing. Matthew approaches him as James closes his eyes and when he opens them, he shrieks. Thomas rolls his eyes. 
“I really don’t think staring at him is going to help, Matthew,” he says and Matthew steps back. “Jamie, is there anything that might help you begin the process? We’ve all seen you do it… You start to get shadowy, and turn a bit blurry around the edges.”
“When I go into the shadow realm, the realness of my presence here begins to fade,” James says. “But it is not what drives me into the shadow realm. More of a side effect for being there.”
“Often it happens when you are upset or shocked,” points out Christopher, always the observant one. “I suppose we could try upsetting or shocking you.”
“Given everything that’s happened, that shouldn’t be too hard,” says James. 
“Nonsense,” says Matthew as he climbs atop a wobbly looking table. What on earth possesses him to do things such as this? It’s one of the great questions of the universe. “The last time I saw you shocked was when that Iblis demon was sending Christopher love letters.”
“I have a dark charm,” says Christopher sadly. 
“Please recall that I am the pale neurasthenic one and you are the stern heroic one,” Matthew says dramatically motioning with his hands. “It is very tedious when you mix up our roles. We will have to think of something quite impressive to startle you.”
For just a moment, Thomas’s mind wanders to his secret. That would certainly be enough to startle James, but he also might have a heart attack before reaching the shadow realm and that wouldn’t be productive at all. 
“So what is my role?” Asks Christopher. 
“Mad inventor, of course,” says Matthew. “And Thomas is the one with a good heart.”
How wonderful, he’s the nice one. It’s as if his personality has been boiled down to the kindness he gives others. 
“Lord, I sound dull,” says Thomas. “Look, James, come here for a second.”
James walks over to him and Thomas punches him in the gut. He didn’t use all of his strength, but it still sent him flying back into the wall. It obviously didn’t work, as James has not dissolved into shadow, but it does make Thomas feel slightly better after being reduced to a do-gooder for the dozenth time today.
Matthew rushes over him and James tries to catch his breathe, “Thomas! What were you trying to—?”
“I was trying to surprise him!” Thomas yells back. He’s starting to fell bad about just hard that punch was. “This is important Matthew! You don’t mind, do you, Jamie?”
“It’s all alright,” says James breathlessly. “Only it didn’t work. If I turned into a shadow every time something hit me, I couldn’t patrol.”
Thomas shrugs, he supposes that James makes a point. But how are they to get him into the shadow realm? He’s lost in thought, when he notices that Christopher is pulling a bow from the wall. He frowns, but doesn’t really question it until he shoots an arrow at James. His cousin looks completely composed as Matthew throws himself at James and moves him away from the broken window. Sure, Thomas’s idea wasn’t the brightest, but at least he didn’t try to kill their friend. 
“In case anyone was wondering if those were purely ornamental,” says James, getting to his feet. “They are not.”
“In the name of a million bloody angels, Christopher, what the hell did you just do?” Matthew exclaims. “Did you try to kill James?”
Christopher lowers his bow as noises start to come from outside the ballroom, running feet and slamming doors. 
“I was not trying to kill James,” Christopher says defensively. “I was hoping the shock of the arrow flying past would startle him into the shadow realm. Pity it didn’t work. We must think of a new plan to grievously alarm James at once.”
“Christopher!” James exclaims. “I cannot believe you would say that! I also cannot believe you would shoot at me.”
“It had a seventy-two percent chance of working, in perfect laboratory conditions—.”
“We are not in a perfect laboratory conditions!” James shouts. “We are in the ballroom of my house!”
The doors to the ballroom rattle and all four boys look over in horror. 
“What’s going on?” Asks Will Herondale. “James, are you in there?”
“Bloody hell. My father,” James curses. “Look, all of you—get out through the window. Well, the broken one anyway. I’ll take the blame. I’ll say I shot the window out.”
“In the ballroom?” Asked Thomas. All of his friends have lost their minds. “Why would you do such a rattle-head thing?”
“I’m capable of anything!” Says James angrily, grabbing for the bow in Christopher’s hands. Christopher hides behind Thomas’s tall frame and they circle around him as if he is some inanimate pole. “Come on, Kit, give it over—.”
Thomas rolls his eyes for the dozenth time since arriving in the ballroom, “He’s going to say, ‘Because I’m a Herondale’, isn’t he?”
The pounding at the door increases and James makes another grab for the bow. “I am a Herondale,’ he says. “And I am telling you to get out of my Institute so the only one who gets punished here is me.”
“Answer me, James!” Will shouts. “Why have you blocked this door? I demand to know what’s going on!”
“James isn’t here,” Matthew calls. “Go away!”
James gives Matthew a look, “Really?”
“I heard breaking glass!” Will calls. 
“I was practicing fighting moves!” Shouts back Matthew. 
“In the ballroom?”
By the angel, his friends need to learn how to lie. It’s becoming almost physically painful to hear their excuses. 
“We’re trying to distract Thomas! It’s been a very emotional day!”
“What?” Yells Will even louder. 
“Don’t you blame this on me!” Thomas whispers furiously. 
“James,” Matthew say with all seriousness. He puts his hands on his Parabatai’s shoulders and stares into his eyes deeply. Thomas has always thought the Parabatai bond is a bit strange in that way.”If you’re going to do this, you need to do it now.”
“I know,” James says. “Math—help me.”
Matthew leans in close and whispers something into his ear that Thomas cannot hear. James physically recoils from his words and looks at him in horror. He starts to get blurry around the edges. Whatever he said, worked. James is traveling into the shadow realm. 
“James,” Matthews says. “I didn’t mean it—.”
Then James disappears into thin air. Like a shadow, gone in the light. The remaining boys can only stare at the spot he once occupied in silence and horror. What in the world did Matthew say to James to make him disappear from existence entirely? Something worse than even Christopher shooting an arrow at him. Worse than Thomas slugging him in the stomach. None of them speak as they start to comprehend what had happened. This wasn’t meant to happen. James was supposed to be alright, as he always is. This was meant to help Barbara, but now James is gone,
The door to the ballroom is busted open by force, but none of the boys even turn around. What the bloody hell have they done?
Taglist:
@artist-in-soul
@laylax13s 
@thelasthours-alastair
@ashisamess
@thedamnephilimfangirl
@youwerealwaysmysecret 
@melanielocke 
@yozinha-z
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still wanting for the herondaisy cot fanfic … 😢
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luciehercndale · 3 months
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That's What Candles Do / Thomastair
So here I am with a Thomastair Christmas drabble. Today I also wanted to be short and to the point and write something fluffy and cute to celebrate this season. More may follow, but tomorrow (because right now I'm tired lol). So enjoy <3
Rating: G Words: 489 Read on A03 💜
“Where did you say Cordelia got this candle?” Thomas wondered, a mixture of pine and something else – maybe cinnamon – hitting his nostrils after the wick started to burn. 
“Amsterdam, I think,” Alastair scrunched his nose. “I am not sure I like this smell.”
“It’s bittersweet,” he admitted. “But it’s growing on me. Perhaps it will grow on you too.”
Alastair shrugged from his armchair, and glanced at the cream colored scented candle sitting on the wooden table that separated him from Thomas’ armchair. 
“Perhaps,” he said. “At least I remembered to light it. Last time Cordelia was here, she ordered me to use this damn candle around this time. She said this is the scent of Christmas, but I beg to differ.”
“Did she?” Thomas chuckled. At that, Alastair rolled his eyes. “Well, it is a gift. Of course, she wants you to use it. Gifts are not meant to be sitting on the mantle and gathering dust.”
“We’re talking about a candle, Tom,” he raised an eyebrow. “That’s what candles do.”
Thomas sighed. “Yes, but this is a scented candle. Keyword being scented. It’s meant to spread its fragrance throughout its surroundings. Look at the soft atmosphere it gives this room,” he gestured at the walls with his hand. “Isn’t the perfect Christmas setting?”
“It just makes it impossible for me to enjoy the newspaper with such bad lightning,” he complained, putting the paper aside.
Thomas shook his head and stood up, something caught his attention behind the window. 
“It’s snowing.”
“Is it, now? Must’ve been the power of the candle,” he joked.
“Come here to see,” Thomas demanded. “It’s picking up. It’s the first real snow of the season.”
Alastair rose from his chair and reached his partner. “You were not exaggerating,” he commented. “That’s really a lot of snow. Just in time for Christmas.”
“I thought you didn’t care about Christmas,” Thomas retorted. 
“Why would I have put some mistletoe above the window, if I didn’t?”
Thomas frowned, and looked up. “When did you put this here? I didn’t see it.”
“This morning when you were away with your father,” he confessed. “And you can blame the candle and the bad lightning for your poor sight.” 
“Would you please leave the poor candle alone?” 
Alastair giggled, putting one of his hands behind Thomas’ back. “Only if you give me a kiss. We’re under the mistletoe, after all. And there’s this hint of winter in the air thanks to the candle. The snow is falling outside our window. And I’m in your arms.”
“I’ll give you more than one kiss,” he leaned closer, one hand resting behind Alastair’s neck, the other on his hip. “I have to make up for my bad sight.”
“Shut up, Thomas,” Alastair said playfully, just as the grandfather clock on the wall struck midnight. “And Merry Christmas.” He dragged him by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him.
Merry Christmas, indeed. 
***
Notes: I don't know why but I feel like Cordelia would be the type to gift a scented candle??? In my mind, she got that candle in Amsterdam during her travel year with James. She wanted to contribute to Alastair and Thomas' house with something they could put on the mantle or use (because candles are soothing and give the right atmosphere). Alastair probably thinks candles are overrated because of electricity, but they are still useful.
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I heard that you were putting out a new thomastair fic. Do you mind telling me what's it about?
ok lets go lets fuckin do this. bear with me here because it’s complicated as fuck.
so, we begin with alastair carstairs on a bright afternoon. he’s angry. cranky. just lost a case and is pissed at a client. about to smash his coffee mug. (alastair is a barrister, which is just fancy british for lawyer.) so, faced with the possibility of smashing his coffee mug or doing something about his Rage™️, he calls thomas and says, ‘can you get over here and fuck me, please’
spoiler alert! thomas and alastair have been hooking up for eight fucking years after accidentally ending up at the same uni.
thomas comes over, they fuck, it’s very cute and very sexy, but thomas has to leave the next morning as he has a class to teach. (he’s a professor of classics at london college university)
alastair goes back to work, stress and anger freshly fucked out of him, and takes up another case. a young uni student just inherited a fuck-ton of money from his grandfather is having his inheritance sued over the fact that his grandfather was unaware that his grandson was gay and if he did know, he wouldn’t have left him so much money. total bullshit, but the family is rich and they have some serious pull.
so alastair says fuck this, let’s get you your inheritance. he works his fucking ass off and halfway through the case’s first day in court, the prosecution brings up alastair’s ‘impartiality’ on the issue of him having a sexual relationship with another man.
surprise surprise! the daily mail just published an article on alastair’s ‘scandal’ of daring to take a case where a young gay man is targeted for being gay. the case is pretty high profile because of the family’s status. (alastair is also a fucking good lawyer.) pictures are included in the article of him and thomas kissing and getting pretty close to fucking in alastair’s living room. they’re both covered enough in the photos, but they’re a horrible violation of privacy and the whole thing is super shitty.
alastair freaks the fuck out and the trial is adjourned, and he runs home to find thomas in his apartment waiting for him, because years ago alastair gave him a key. (they’re totally just hooking up guys)
alastair’s ‘scandal’ soon becomes vaguely trending. all of their friends find out and it’s fucking chaos. alastair is trying his very best not to loose it but he’s not doing very well.
the worst part isn’t the homophobia of it all or the horrific mess of his private acts being posted online, it’s that his career is pretty much ruined. despite having done nothing wrong, even the slightest rumor of a barrister being not 100% bad rep free means he won’t get hired, or at the very least not as much. people don’t want a scandal-associated lawyer because it might sway the jury against their favor. why contract alastair when there’s plenty of other sex-scandal free options?
so alastair’s freaking out about his job when thomas presents this wonderful idea: fake date.
(i fucking know, right?)
it’s actually pretty smart. fake dating will turn the narrative around; suddenly alastair isn’t the barrister who had some torrid affair, he’s a man who’s private life has been grossly invaded, which is the truth. if they give the story the gloss of a committed relationship and hearts and rainbows, alastair won’t be painted as some overly sexual gay man stereotype. he’ll just be a man in love.
they both acknowledge how shitty it is that they have to do this, but agree. they’ll fake date until the trial ends, which alastair will probably win now that the prosecution has been exposed as cheating, homophobic fucks, and everything will be solved. thomas will also stay at alastair’s apartment through this time for totally ridiculous reasons that aren’t true and it’s just because they want to be near one another.
there’s only one problem.
alastair has been in love with thomas for years and despite knowing his feelings are somewhat reciprocated, (he’s a fucking idiot and thinks thomas’s feelings are a surface level crush and a side effect from fucking), he refuses to do anything about it. he doesn’t think he’s good enough for thomas and doesn’t want to wreck thomas’s life by dating him for real. (yes, he’s being self-sacrificially stupid but this is alastair, guys, what did you expect.)
to make matters worse, thomas, idiot and piner extraordinaire, has been fully in love with alastair since he was eighteen. he kept hooking up with alastair all this time because it was the only way he could be near him.
so we have alastair, in love with thomas but pretending he’s just interested in him for sex, and thomas, who’s fully fucking in love and really bad at hiding it. these two idiots are now fake dating and lying to all their family and friends for the sake of alastair’s career.
bomb, meet lighter. things are about to go boom. i swear, this fic has everything i could cram into it.
angst: angsted.
pining: cranked to eleven.
domestic fluff: sweeter then marshmallows.
sex: hot and dirty as fuck.
welcome to my fucking disaster golden egg.
so far, it has over eighty thousand words and it’s not even fucking done yet.
also, i lowkey think it’s the best thing i’ve ever written and i’m hella excited to share it with you guys. i’m gonna stop typing now bc my thumbs hurt and kudos to you if you read this far. 😚 my current plan is to post the first chapter sometime around august, so get ready!
lots of love,
liza💖
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reality-exodus · 4 days
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FANCAST: The Last Hours Fic
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Last Hours of a Herondale
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vashs-posts · 2 years
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An afternoon in the lab
hi!! this is the first fan fiction I have written. Do give me feedback if you read this. Do tell me if I have grammatical errors too since English isn't my first language
characters: Grace Blackthorn and Christopher lightwood from The Last Hours by Cassandra Clare
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Christopher rarely felt this energised after a session of training. Usually, it exhausted him quite a bit, as he wasn’t the fit sort. But this day, kit was really excited- as he finally had a sample of ichor from an iadelon demon and he wanted to run some tests on it.
He skipped towards the winding stairs that led to uncle Henry’s laboratory when he heard aunt charlotte call out “kit is that you?” from the other room. 
“Yes aunt charlotte it’s me” he replied cheerily. 
“alright then, Henry and I are leaving for an enclave meeting, try not to blow anything up this time” she told him kindly.
“yeah thank you- I’ll try not to aunt charlotte” he replied with a smile to himself. He really liked aunt charlotte. One because she let him dally about her house whenever he pleased to the point of allowing him to use Matthew's room as a resting place, and two- she never objected to his curiosity and interest in science- as long as he didn’t blow up the place; which he, unfortunately, did a lot. He liked how she always encouraged uncle Henry’s genius pursuits.
As he climbed the stairs he thought that although a partner's encouragement in the sciences was always good, he always craved for his partner in life to be his partner in science too. Like Marie and Pierre Curie. His mind shifted to grace blackthorn, which he thought was odd since they weren’t very well acquainted. He suspected that she was interested in science like he was. perhaps he should ask her to be his lab partner? But he didn't know if she would agree to that, after all, she used to be close to James- and James never had a keen interest in kit’s many experiments. Besides, he thought, she must have been going through a lot. He knew that her mother had been sent to the citadel and that she probably was in no headspace to be courted- not that kit was good at courting girls in the first place. Kit barely knew how to talk to people, let alone court them. 
as he reached the bottom of the staircase he turned to enter the laboratory when he saw a shadow sitting near the Venturi meters. The figure was familiar- short frame, and hair the colour of platinum which glowed like the moon. He saw that she was staring at the ticking pendulum of the grand clock across the lab from her. She looked like she had been crying 
He quickly hid behind the door. Did him thinking about her bring her to the lab? He had read a few books on psychic abilities, was that what was happening? “No,” he thought, those claims didn’t have sufficient scientific backing. Then what was grace doing here? And why had she been crying?
Grace has no idea why she asked for the carriage to go to James’s Parabatai’s place. She still had no idea why, as she slipped into the back entrance and went to the lab. James had to leave with his family to search for Lucy, so he had let her leave Curzon street on the condition that they would report everything to the clave when he got back. After that, she made her way back to the Bridgestock’s residence. Now it was a few days later, and Grace was at the consul's house.
But she hadn’t gone there to see Ms Fairchild, she was sure of it. She entered the laboratory and sat directly across the vast wooden clock. Its steady ticks rang across the room. Tick-tock.  Tick tock.  
As if on cue, tears slipped from her eyes. She didn’t know why she was crying, or rather for what exact thing-out of everything- in particular she was crying about. Her mother always told her she was a stupid, weak child, and now she was crying like one. 
She heard the door swing open slowly and quickly rubbed off her tears and straightened her skirts. it was Christopher. He looked at her curiosity with his beautiful violet eyes. He looked concerned. He was gnawing at his lip and was restlessly pushing the door open. 
“Er- grace is that you?” he said softly. 
Why had she come here? How could she explain this to him? He probably thought that she had lost her mind.
“Christopher! I’m so sorry, I’ll leave right away if you’re busy- I was passing by and er- I wanted something from you- um do you have any dried lavender extract?” 
Dried lavender extract? she thought cringing a little bit at his puzzled expression. Surely he knew that she could make it from the Bridgestock gardens and didn’t have to come all the way here for it. But she couldn’t help it, lavender was the first thing she thought of after seeing those bright eyes of his. 
“yeah! yeah- I could give that to you by tomorrow!” he said brightly. 
“Thank you, Christopher,” grace said. She could feel her cheeks hot with embarrassment as he stared at her with a small smile. The ticks of the clock were louder than ever now. She turned to look at it, to avoid making a bigger fool of herself.
“I always liked the way clocks ticked. Like with a steady frequency, you know?” Christopher told her, breaking the silence. Then he started tapping the table with his long scarred finger and matched the frequency to the clock. She didn’t know why, but she started tapping to it too.
“Ah! Look we’re in resonance!” He said and beamed at her. Then he looked away a little embarrassed. 
“I’m sorry, this might be a little uninteresting to you” he said shyly. 
“No! It’s not” she said, adding “I read somewhere that resonance is when the amplitude increases because of matching frequencies. The book said that with very loud sounds- you could break windows. Is that true?” 
Christopher stared at her. and then he smiled his perfect, cat like smile.
“maybe, I’ve never tried it! We ought to try it sometime don’t you think? I mean I don’t think aunt charlotte would appreciate that too much because the windows might break- but what is that small damage in the grand scheme of things?” He told her excitedly. 
“Anyways, I wanted to run some tests on iadelon ichor. Er-if you’re not occupied elsewhere, would you like to help me?” He asked, as his fingers fluttered a little in his pocket. 
Grace liked how Christopher didn’t think she was uneducated just because she was a woman. She liked how he viewed her as an equal. And somehow he made her forget all of her worries. 
“Sure.” Said grace “as long as I get to blow some things up.- if it comes to it!” 
and Christopher beamed at her again, brighter than the unusual London summer rays falling in through the window that day
And slowly they fell into a routine. Both of them took turns running the experiments, with matching goggles and smocks to protect their eyes and clothes. Grace ran some preliminary tests, while kit scratched away in his books. A couple of times the samples of ichor boiled out of the test tube, or exploded into a huge fire- but overall the tests went rather smoothly. 
Kit found that he worked well with Grace, and she was extremely smart too. When the ichor reacted with concentrated sulphuric acid, it had become a huge fire- and he and Grace had to put it out quickly before it burnt them and the lab. He had looked worriedly at Grace then, to see that she was smiling- and then they both were smiling and giggling over their blunder. 
He liked her company, he liked how she chewed the back of her pen as she took down the observations, or how she furrowed her brow while calculating the density of the ichor. 
By the time they both were done, the clock chimed to indicate that it was 3:30pm. Grace looked at him with a small smile. “Do you want to go out into the garden for a while? I don’t think this much time with ichor is good for us” she said 
“Yeah sure!” he told her as he followed her into the garden. A few silver strands of hair had escaped her bun and he had the urge to put it back in place. he didn’t know why he had that urge. Her hair was beautiful, as the rest of her was. She was more beautiful in her smock and goggles too. Kit never understood fashion, but right now it confused him the most. Why wear expensive dresses when you were beautiful in anything? He was suddenly self-conscious about his rattled appearance and stained clothes.
They had reached the garden. Aunt charlotte’s cook had laid out tea for them after seeing them. The birds were fluttering, and the Sun-rays were falling on Grace’s small face. Her hair was reflecting some of the light- and she looked radiant. 
“Do you know why the sky is blue?” she asked him. He did know, but he wanted her to keep talking, so he didn’t respond.  
“It’s because of Raleigh’s scattering. the light of colours with a wavelength less than blue gets scattered off, while the blue light passes though” she said and looked at him. “Interesting isn’t it?”
“It is interesting.” He told her and leaned back against the chair to look up at the sky. all this talk about wavelength and frequency made kit’s mind wander to all the books and papers he had read about them. He and uncle Henry had spent so much time on documents about light and energy, and he knew many things about frequencies and wavelengths. But the fact that was the most obvious of all, was that Grace Blackthorn for some odd reason matched his frequency perfectly. They were the perfect resonance. 
he suddenly sat up. She was steering sugar in her tea and looking at him with a half-smile. He picked up his teacup too and asked her
“Have you heard of the Curies?” 
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by vash
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