#jam carstairs

[beyondtheciouds]

A match was lit, and the struck stick was tossed carelessly into the fireplace long before the Consul arrived on the city's other side. The signs were all there; a mistake was sure to be made tonight as the rickety carriage moved down the quiet street into a neighborhood she knew far too well and had visited often. The night was young, and Charlotte had enough aggravation tonight to last a lifetime. Her temper had dissolved into something far worse, an anxiousness, a pettiness that Charlotte Fairchild feared would get the best of her.

Weeks of carrying on like her personal passions did not matter--dissolved her worth. The loneliness had finally caught up with the Consul. Parading around with baked goods for the less fortunate when she wasn't tossed into a shrewd sewing circle of gossipy crones had her wanting to tear her hair out by the roots. Weeks of listening to Henry go on and on about nonsense, how he might be necessary to the community one day, all the talk made her want to run away screaming. A pillar--how he might be more than a guy with few screws loose to their comrades. How his dream would never be.

Days spent being begrudgingly faithful--- helping Gertrude with Henry's baths and keeping a tidy house while her maids gossiped in the kitchen instead of doing what they were paid to do crept up on Charlotte's cold shoulder too fast. Gossip kept her awake most nights. Tending Henry casually turned into months of long hours spent slaving and staying away from her duties to the community. She became a hermit and spent the dragging daylight at home. Often ending up so alone.

Many apparent signs had passed her eyes in the months leading up to her career's demise. So many red flags waved in her face, yet she turned a blind eye as she internally accepted her fate. What did anyone expect? What did she?

Henry was usually out of sorts these days, bamboozled by his imagination and the imagery of science. Often, he sat undressed and oblivious in the sunlight at the breakfast table. He refused to eat until Gertrude took his plate of cold eggs and stale toast away.

Then, he would eat the jam right out of the jar.

After a frustrating lunch, the mid-afternoons were a chore; sitting with him in the lab or the library while he struggled to make sense became a game Charlotte often lost at. 

After supper, he was worse, moody, and intolerable at all-night hours. Sometimes, Charlotte dotted on him, reminding herself his destiny had been stolen from him like hers had. Like a thief in the night, her Henry had painfully drifted away into madness and had unwillingly taken her hopes along with him.

To Charlotte's relief, Henry preferred his own bed and usually slept downstairs in the unused study. The time after dark was hers.

Matthew was nowhere to be found most days, while others he spent tangled in his sheets with mistresses and mimes. Charlotte did not know what to make of his disappearance as he was often gone days at time without a word or sound.  Some days she had forgotten her youngest son existed.

She now wondered if his disappearance was unrelated to that of the Herondales and Miss Carstairs. If he had gone into hiding in Paris as his exploitations often found him in a source of trouble.

If he would turn up dead or in prison.

Charles was usually out, tending to business on Charlotte's behalf in the city during the daylight. He reveled in the fact that his mother had become a hypocrite and now strived to do far better and take on more responsibly in regard to his up and coming position. Unfortunately for Charlotte, the Clave agreed. The members had cited Charlotte was under far too much stress and gave her son the assignments she would have usually handled.

Charles was proud and did not speak to his mother about his work. He didn't want to offend her now that she had sequestered at home. In the evenings, he almost always seemed to have private dinner plans or spent long hours working at his new office so he would avoid any confrontations with her. He usually waited until he knew she was asleep to drag himself home.

That left Charlotte alone with Matthew's dog, Oscar most evenings.

Being dutiful, respectful of their vows, and mindful of their families all for nothing. To be alone with a madman, have a rebellious son on the loose, and, worst of all, a son who stole her happiness. She wanted to scream and cry and carry on like a child.

Pursuing her dalliances made her happy. Her work made her happy. Her family had once made her happy.

All these things gone, leading to a point of breaking.  The loss of oneself.

Tonight, the news of Matthew's and the others disappearances had been Charlotte's breaking point despite her best efforts to tell herself Matthew, of them all, was fine. Tonight, will be the beginning of an end she decided as she sat further back against the plush, green velvet. It was time the wolf emerged from the sheepish clothing regardless of where her son and his friends were taken.

The olive-colored carriage pulled to a stop in front of a large, overpowering brick mansion without the slightest hesitation. The golden wings painted on the panels of the carriage doors glistened like snowy dew drops under the overhead lamplight. It was as if they were stars themselves.

Imposing and threatening gates surrounding the mansion were iron encased in ichor; pickets and posts shaped as sharp arrows were meant to deter all visitors. The stained-glass windows were wide and dark; the heavy ceiling candelabras were unlit. There were no signs of life; no shadows stirred inside, but she knew he was home. 

Maurice was always home at this late hour.

Charlotte quietly scolded herself for dragging the Inquisitor into this mess and the chaos that would ensue such decisions a she waited to be let through. Time and resentment had erased most of what her and Henry had so she was not feeling guilty as her hands itched inside their gloves. What she was feeling, however, was nervous.

A man in a satin black frock coat and elegant top hat appeared out of the shadows, startling the driver for a moment. The driver hesitated before he handed the man a parchment, then whispered words were exchanged.  Charlotte studied his face. It was skeletal; gaunt in the cheekbones and bruised under the eyes, the mysterious man in the top hat.  He tried to peer in with his shadowed eyes through the frosted glass several times at her without success. The horses made obtuse sounds as Charlotte's driver informed the man of their business without so much as a smile or a tip of his hat under the moonlight.

A moment later, the gates opened, and they passed quickly through while Charlotte watched the numerous vacant gardens go by. Greek and Roman; the statues of maidens and goddesses were covered in blankets of pure snow. She heard the click of the lock; the clank of the gate shutting her inside his estate as the man's laughter chimed like a bell, following the carriage as the wheels chugged along in the dark.  Then the man was suddenly calling out behind them, shouting German orders to the few soldiers surrounding the house. Charlotte sensed that he was telling everyone that the Inquisitor had company. He was not to be disturbed.

The night, the open sky; stars as free as she felt.

Arriving at the door, an overweight butler had been waiting with an overly friendly smile. He tipped his bald head as if she were the matron of the house and not herself. The door to the carriage opened and he held out his hand to her.  She exited the small compartment with such grace that he was taken aback. Charlotte swiftly took the old man's hand and his smile widened unsteadily as if he knew her deepest secrets.

The reason for this perfectly timed visit.

Long days and longer nights had passed between tonight and the last time she was at the Inquisitor's estate. The last time had been deep in the summer when the roses were at their blooming peak. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the softness of the petals on her skin and smell the jasmine in the air.

The building had seemed to grow large and foreboding, it suddenly felt foreign to her eyes beneath the lenses of her glasses. She blinked, almost disbelieving she had returned to the Bridgestock Estate.

Warmth and heat filled her body so quickly that Charlotte thought she may have entered an inferno the moment she stepped over the threshold. She had half expected to see Flora hiding in the shadows, her face sharing all of Maurice's betrayals. Shaming them quietly.

The Fairchild carriage waited patiently outside, the old driver shivering as he read yesterday's paper under the dim light of the kerosene lamps. Charlotte knew she could leave. Pretend this was different from what she wanted. What she needed.

Instead of running away, she hastily clasped her shaking hands over one another, her oversized hat swaying like pendulum as she led herself down several narrow hallways and corridors toward the East Wing.

There is still time to leave, she thought. A deep breath and her fear gripped her like a forlorn lover as she passed open and empty rooms, closed and locked doors. I can still go home to Henry.

A glance in a hall mirror caught her by surprise; her round cherub face felt childish; brown eyes were wide, cheeks pink, and lips parted. Her skin glistened with sweat, and the small opal twinkled; the stone was dangling at her throat as it would have when she was young and naive.

Charlotte remembered when she dove headfirst into politics, not knowing where it would lead her as a female. She could not replace her father's proud look as she was first announced head of the London Institute.  How that memory rooted itself between the rocks, he formed in her heart.

The two maids scurrying about the unkept halls caught her attention. Both women knew her well by now. Charlotte was not one people tend to forget quickly, regardless of her title or position.

One of the women stopped, smiled, and greeted her by name. Then the maid had told her to go right in as Charlotte raised her hand to knock on the hardwood door of the Inquistior's Private Office. The door, she knew, would be unlocked. Charlotte had been expected.

Charlotte flatted her hand against the cooling wood as the maid vanished around a corner, singing some off-key ballard. Am I really doing this? Am I really doing this again?

Maurice had been waiting patiently for her. He opened the door before her bony knuckles hit the wood, his long face lit ablaze by the candlelight beyond him, and she swooned.

He was smiling, large, dark eyes alight with what Charlotte recognized immediately as longing. His thin upper lip held a glisten of sweat, and she could already taste the dry, dirty whiskey dripping from the corners of his curving mouth. The top three buttons of his starched white shirt were undone, exposing dark strands of hair plastered on milky skin. The sight brought Charlotte back to a time before she was a leader. A time when she was just a girl with a dream in her heart and a boy in her mind. This boy.

A long fur coat and matching gloves; a jeweled reticule and a pair of freshly shined ladies leather boots had become tangled in the furniture not long after she entered his office. Wedding rings and family Signas became discarded on an end table as if they were nothing more than heirlooms. A black robe and a periwinkle gown hanging on the coat rack next to the door blocked the light, casting the room in shadows. The hat, tossed carelessly to the floor.

Calming.

Maurice was the calming to the petrifying storm that raged inside her soul. He eased her as he was easing her now. The rush cleared her ears; voices she no longer wanted to listen to ceased.

"Draw from it, Charlotte. Let it pull the truth from you, clear your mind. Relax. You are safe here. Everything is off the record." Inquisitor Bridgestock smiled, his large mouth twisting, exposing yellowed teeth crooked and chipped. The white shirt he had worn now caressed the back of his chair. "There it is, dear. Inhale, exhale. Now, tell me what you know."  His long fingers tolled the servant bell as he watched her chest rise and fall beneath the eggshell chemise.

Charlotte did just that; she inhaled and exhaled, but the ugliness remained on the tip of her tongue. I am married. You are married. I am your boss. What are we doing? All her insecurities about her position had come flooding up from somewhere deep inside. Guilt and shame huddled together in the pit of her stomach. Acid buildup climbed her throat. The voice ridiculed her and called her a hypocrite, and it only took a fleeting moment to realize the voice was Matthew's.

 Consul Fairchild is a dream, a fraud.

Charlotte realized everything in and about herself was a calculated mirage set in place by her father. Life as she knew it was false: her marriage, her children, her career, and her very existence had been planned and staged by her father to keep the family name going after losing his heir. 

Her affair would undoubtedly ruin her career, ruining her family's name. Her downfall would leave Charles and Henry mortified. Her divorce would leave the public stunned. The community would be decimated. Her friends would be devastated. Scandal after scandal.

Her exile. Her death. Everything was now in jeopardy-- she dropped her life into Maurice's calming hands. His steady hands.

Her father would be so disappointed. Her mother highly mortified.

Matthew would laugh. Tell her she was a joke. She was just like him.

Matthew...

Charlotte lost focus, hiding her tears as a maid entered and began tending to her, rubbing intense smelling and weirdly warm spices on her bare shoulders and neck. The heat flowed into her as the woman whispered words in some misinterpreted language and moved her hands slowly in Charlotte's chestnut hair.

Hypnosis was a new age practice; one Maurice Bridgestock had just discovered in the recent weeks. One he had been dying to try out on the Consul particularly. A watch sat idly on his desk next to a black and white swirling box with a pull chain attached.  Two mugs of steaming tea sprinkled with a peculiar opaque powder were arranged neatly on the desk by another stone-faced maid who quickly left.

Maurice delicately sipped from his cup.

Charlotte lay on her back, her petite body set up on the chaise opposite the awkward Inquisitor Bridgestock who sat at his large, oak desk in a sea of smoke. His mouth was still oddly parched, and his lips puckered at the sourness of the steaming liquid coasting down his throat. Charlotte closed her eyes and tried for a third time to refocus her energy even though she imagined his clammy skin still against hers. Their bones entwined on the fur of some deceased mammal.

A fire beyond.

Maurice had waited so long to get Charlotte Fairchild under his spell. He swore to himself this time he wouldn't let her go. He had loved her from afar for so long and now here she was, delivered once more in the palm of his hand.

A gift.

The sage that was burning on the silver tray upon his desk was giving Charlotte a slight headache, leaving her feeling sluggish and faint. Her long hair felt like it was being untangled from the tight bun at the top of her head. "Maurice," she said, breathless. "Belial is back. He's taken the children. James and Matthew. Lucie and Cordelia."

Maurice Bridgestock did not blink at the name of the demon prince, or of the missing teens. The Inquisitor was callous towards the Herondales and Carstairs, but he did have a soft spot for Charlotte's son. So, he let his face remain neutral and just eyed Charlotte curiously as the maid wordlessly untangled her hair. Excitement coursed through his veins, light and giddy at the thought of finally using the Mortal Sword on Tessa Herondale.  He would kill her with the sharp edge after she told them the truth. He took a deep breath, slowly and casually said, "When Charlotte? Tell me when you knew."

Charlotte's cheeks reddened. "Well..."

"Go on dearie," he said sounding like the big bad wolf.

She looked as though she did as a teen, long before she took the long arm of the law's hand. Her hair now hung in loose curls down her back, cascading off her shoulders. Maurice's heart skipped an unexpected beat. He was still in love with her. She looked just as he remembered. It felt like only yesterday had gone by when he had known her as nothing more than Lottie Fairchild. Innocent, smart and sweet. The girl he thought he would one day marry.

His red riding hood.

A log in the fireplace spat ash furiously and the maid yanked a knot free as if the idea had been preposterous at the start, even in his youth. Maurice licked his lips, contemplating his next steps.

Charlotte took another breath, long and deep. "I... I was not told he was back until this evening. He could have been here for months while Tessa Herondale went on about her daily life. That is, until late this afternoon."

"Go on," Maurice said, a wicked smile on his face.

#cassandra clare #the shadowhunter chronicles #the last hours #charlotte fairchild #Maurice Bridgestock #au

[sanbond]

I hate that a good soul like George Lovelace was killed and was deemed unworthy of being a shadowhunter but a devil like Zara dearborn had angel blood flowing in her veins and she is NOT WORTHY of it.

#tsc #shadowhunters #tmi #George Lovelace #Zara dearborn #TDA #the dark artifices #the lord of shadows #simon lewis #shadowhunter academy #emma carstairs #jam carstairs #julian blackthorn #Annabel blackthorn #the queen of air and the #the lady midnight

[vaughnedits]

The Infernal Devices headers.

like or reblog if you save it.

© devlinmurph on twitter if you use it.

#the infernal devices #the infernal devices series #the infernal devices headers #will herondale #jam carstairs #tessa gray #headers #quotes #random headers #books #books headers #book #books quotes #quotes headers

[9395]

“Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry.” ― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

#I'm really proud of this???? idk #also MY FIRST EDIT #noice™ #i had to do a tid edit first obviously #tid #the infernal devices #tidedit #tidsource #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #nephilimdaily #tscdaily #litedit #yalitedit #tmi #tlh #tda #tessa gray #will herondale #jam carstairs #jessamine lovelace #willhrondale #magnus bane #lit #yalit #literature #young adult #ya literature #mine

[potato-jem]

jem carstairs // 不忘

warning: long post!

a/n: i spent way too much time on this. is finding essays fun a red flag?

lyrics and translation, sourced from: https://radishtears.home.blog/2019/07/23/lyrics-bu-wang/ 

jem carstairs, a boy with a tragic past who came to london with nothing but his violin, a terminal illness and his kindred soul, is arguably one of the best characters ever written, hands down. despite his hardships, he makes sure that everyone he cares about feels the deep love he has for them, and would be the type of person to smile when you walk past, no matter if he knew you or not. 

one of the main parts of jem’s story is when he is forced to undergo the ritual to transform him into a silent brother for his own survival, at the cost of never marrying the love of his life, the bond between him and his parabatai being forcibly tethered and being separated from his five year home of the london institute. for over one hundred years, he had to watch the people he loved most die, while he was forced to serve the greater good for the shadowhunters. none of these deaths affected him like the death of his parabatai, will herondale. 

keeping this in mind, the song 不忘/bù wàng (translation: don’t forget) was sung by singer, wang yibo, for the chinese television series, the untamed (陈情令). it is a beautiful song with such meaning, entirely sung in mandarin (jem’s first language), composed with a combination of chinese and western instruments, violin included. 

now, let’s go through the lyrics that i think are linked to jem:

云深夜微凉

皎月清风拂心绕

一人对雪望

望尽前尘事过往

The night in the Cloud Recesses is cool

The bright moon and clear breeze winds around my heart

Someone watches the snow

Gazing into the days long gone

NOTE: cloud recesses refers to a location in the untamed tv show (you should watch it)

this can be interpreted as jem reflecting on the days of when it was just will and jem. jem often reflects on his time with will and with tessa, so he doesn’t forget how he felt for them, but the runes of a silent brother nulls his emotions. “the bright moon and clear breeze winds around my heart,” can be interpreted as a representation of this experience, having to associate his emotions with objects so he remembers what it is to be human. “gazing into the days long gone” is quite self-explanatory, as jem always has his two favourite people in the back of his mind (annoying the rest of the silent brethren.)

你还在问吗

问尽古来世人的痴狂

谁又在远方

再问世间故人

黑白毁誉几多量

Are you still asking?

Asking after all the relentless fools that came before

And who is there in the distance?

Asking again the departed people

Black and white, praise and blame, what is it all worth? 

one of jem’s most frequent lines, an automatic reflex of his, is the question “will, is that you?” sadly enough, i would only imagine that this reflex doesn’t leave him. the first part of the chorus can be interpreted as an internalised monologue, telling himself that will is gone (because will is indeed a relentless fool). “asking again the departed people:” constantly imagining will in his mind, giving him some sort of sarcastic remark or some genuine advice. and the last sentence, “black and white, praise and blame, what is it all worth?” refers to jem’s inner turmoil towards the end of his time in the silent brotherhood. 

还能忘记吗

云深共许一诺人茫茫

君又在何方

相望不忘

Can you still forget?

In Yun Shen, amidst the crowd, we made a promise together

And where are you now?

That exchanged gaze, unforgotten

maybe, not in yun shen, but remember this? 

“Will rose slowly to his feet. He could not believe he was doing what he was doing, but it was clear that he was, clear as the silver rim around the black of Jem’s eyes. “If there is a life after this one,” he said, “let me meet you in it, James Carstairs.”

“There will be other lives.” Jem held his hand out, and for a moment, they clasped hands, as they had done during their parabatai ritual, reaching across twin rings of fire to interlace their fingers with each other. “The world is a wheel,” he said. “When we rise or fall, we do it together.”

Will tightened his grip on Jem’s hand, which felt thin as twigs in his. “Well, then,” he said, through a tight throat, “since you say there will be another life for me, let us both pray I do not make as colossal a mess of it as I have this one.”

yeah, that’s all i’m saying on the matter.

还能忘记吗

看客散去唯你我不忘

与君在身旁

别来无恙

Can you still forget?

The world passes by but I remember only you

You are by my side

Unchanged since we last parted

okay, this is the last verse of the last chorus. jem finally returns to the shadowhunter world, as jem carstairs. he is free from the restrains of brother zachariah, which ironically is the name he chose for himself when joining the brotherhood as it means “remember.” he finally has a chance at a normal life, without yin fen, without weird steampunk things walking around, without a dark war occuring (for the time being), and yet he still thinks of will. he only got to have will for five years, and for a love so big, jem had mourned his entire lifetime for all the time he lost. 

the great andrew garfield said, “i hope this grief stays with me, because it’s all the unexpressed love i didn’t get to tell her,” which has links to the relationship between jem carstairs and will herondale. will won’t see jem marry tessa, or meet jem’s children, or grow old with him - will did that all years and years ago, while jem was trapped in his eighteen year old body for 129 years. 

this song, despite being sung by a different character for another man, perfectly describes jem’s life experiences, in particular his relationship to his parabatai. although jem’s character is not limited to just being will’s parabatai or tessa’s husband, the lyrics represent the love he felt for them both and his disconnection to the shadow world, once his eyes and lips are sealed shut. 

honourable mentions:

满足 - xiao zhan

heavenly - cigarettes after sex 

always forever - cults

#potato jams #music #comfort character #character concept #shadowhunters #the infernal devices #tid #ghosts of the shadow market #jem carstairs #james carstairs #parabatai #silent brothers #brother zachariah #jem #tsc #shadowhunter chronicles #song analysis #song association

[adamarart]

Here we have the beloved by all James Carstairs from the Infernal Devices and Ghosts of the Shadow Market by @cassandraclare​. What can I say about this beautiful person? That it was so hard to draw him. Looking up another artist works, I found out that is completely different from one piece to another. So this is my illustration of him, hope you like this version. 💚 also, no need to say that the Infernal Devices boys won by far with 186 votes over 84 from the TMI and 82 from the TDA. So... you know who is next😏

#jem carstairs #james carstairs #the infernal devices #the infernal devices fanart #jam carstairs fanart #james carstairs fanart #shadowhunters #shadowhunters books #shadowhunters fanart #cassandra clare books #cassandra clare #Cassandra Clare Fanart #Clockwork Angel #Clockwork Prince #Clockwork Princess

[matthewfairchildssilverflask]

The Last Hours Squad Jamming to Modern day Pop music

James Herondale: Monster (Shawn Mendes and Justin Bieber)

Matthew Fairchild: Montero (Call me by your name) Lil Nas X

Lucie Herondale: Willow (Taylor Swift)

Cordelia Carstairs: Pov (Ariana Grande)

Thomas Lightwood: Holy ( Justin Bieber ft. Chance the rapper)

Christopher Lightwood: Adore You (Harry Styles)

Anna Lightwood: Save your tears (The Weeknd)

Jesse Blackthorn: No time to die ( Billie Eilish)

Alistair Carstairs: Heather (Conon Gray)

Grace Blackthorn: Chemtrails over the country club ( Lana Del Rey)

#the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #james herondale #lucie herondale #cordelia carstairs #the last hours #matthew fairchild #alistair carstairs #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #grace blackthorn #anna lightwood #the chain of iron #jesse blackthorn #chain of gold #tlh spoilers #chain of iron

[astriefer]

Caratairs siblings & Piano

Sona taught both Cordelia and Alastair to play the piano.

Alastair had - and still has - a love for music, so when they were children he was content in sitting on the piano and creating music for hours.

Cordelia, on the other hand, tried but was easily frustrated when she didn't get it right. Playing herself just was not her jam.

She found it exceedingly fun to dance with her father while her brother and mother played simultaneously on the Piano together.

This is also one of the happiest moments from her childhood.

She was very sad when Alastair stopped playing.

Some of their fights were over Alastair's refusal to play for her on the piano. She stubbornly tried to make him do it, but eventually gave up.

She didn't like playing herself, so the piano was left unused most of the time. she sometimes heard her mother play the piano in the evenings and recalled Alastair's abandoned hobby.

Alastair loves playing the piano, but after the Academy and life, he just couldn't enjoy it as he used to, deemed it useless for his duties as a Shadowhunter. Later he wished to it again, to hear and create music under his hands, but he wasn't sure he deserved to create something as pretty as music.

Cordelia is capable of playing some melodies but prefers much better to hear her brother play.

Very few people know Alastair can play, including: Sona, Elias,Cordelia, Charles and later Thomas.

When she first heard him play the piano again she just froze, shocked, and watched his hands moving on the keyboard. It was beautiful despite he was rusty since he hadn't done it for so long. Cordelia couldn't explain the warmth flooding her heart at the sight.

As time passed by he began to play more skillfully, regaining his skill in the arts of playing the piano.

Cordelia loves to sneak around and listen to him play. (Sometimes Alastair notice and sometimes he's too lost in his music and rhythm to get annoyed by it.)

Sometimes, Cordelia passes by a room where he plays, and just keeps walking with a smile tugging at her lips.

Alastair wouldn't admit it, but he secretly like his sister sneaking to listen to him play. He likes to play for her as well, but no torture will make him say it out loud.

Cordelia almost cried when Alastair asked their mother whether she would like to come and play with him. Sona did cry.

James complimented Cordelia piano skills when he first heard her, but was cut off by Alastair coming in the room saying "I heard our baby sibling making better sounds than what you pulled out from that poor piano. And it's not the piano's fault."

When the situation with Thomas calms down and they are together, Thomas caught Alastair playing the piano. Ever since, Thomas would ask Alastair to play for him. In some of the times, Thomas would sing along. Alastair holds these moments close to heart, and he loves playing for him.

Cordelia would relentlessly tease Alastair for playing for Thomas. "Oh," she would say, "I know it's very hard for you, dear brother, but shouldn't you pay attention to the keys instead of staring lovingly at my friend?" "My, What do I need to do to get you to play for me as you do for Thomas? Shall I send you love letters as he does?"

Alastair gets back at her by recalling embarrassing moments from their childhood to whoever is ready to listen.

One of the few things that calm Baby Carstairs is the piano. They love the piano. They especially love when their big brother plays it.

Once, Baby Carstairs threw a tantrum and they couldn't calm him down. Alastair reached to the piano and started playing, but the crying wouldn't stop. So Cordelia decided to swoop her brother in her arms and sat him on the piano bounce next to Alastair. Alastair played few notes before waiting for his sibling to do the same. At the start they were pouting and fussing, then slowly started to follow, then crying because they didn't get it right, then determined. In the end, their sibling traced the keys, copying Alastair's gestures clumsily at the encouragement of them both.

That's when they started to follow their brother's example and learn to play the piano.

Sometimes Alastair will sing (an inappropriate) song while playing. Sona, Risa and Elias disapprove but Cordelia only claps her hands in joy. Baby Carstairs will mimic their older sister, and that's all Alastair needs to keep doing it.

#We will never get it in the books but I thought it worth a share #sorry it's so lame I can't think of much more but you're welcome to add more #yes it's lame but should I do some Thomastair headcanons? #although they'd might ve a version of all the headcanons I've already consumed of Thomastair #alastair carstairs #cordelia carstairs #baby carstairs #elias carstairs #sona carstairs #the last hours #tlh #chain of gold #tsc #chain of iron #the shadowhunter chronicles #thomas lightwood #chog #tlh headcanons #carstairs family #the carstairs siblings #carstairs siblings #carstairs siblings supremacy #the carstairs family #not funny I'm sorry but I can't do better than that #Am not sassy #james herondale #charles fairchild #posted on the seventeen day of the month at seven and seventeen minutes pm #thomastair #thomastair headcanons

[bitofanattitudeproblemherondale]

Emma Carstairs and Kit Herondale bonded over Reputation by Taylor Swift. I said what I said.

They jam to this is why we can't have nice things with that bad bitch energy.

(Ft Jules shaking his head but secretly smiling)

#this is canon #emma carstairs #kit herondale #cassandraclare #shadowhunters #chain of gold #the last hours #taylor swift #tsc #the dark artifices

[shadowhuntertrash]

Arianna🐣

Anna loves driving, windows down and music up. Ariadne love to ride shotgun gun, she gets to be in the car with her feet up jamming with Anna without the stress of driving or the need to focus. They do this quite often when they want to get away.

Anna calls Ariadne a list of different names: Ari, honey, darling, sweetheart, anything that will embarrass Ariadne. Ariadne tried to get back but she couldn't find anything that embarrassed her until she stumbled upon love by pure chance and Anna got all stuttery and was blushing furiously and Ariadne was like YES and so now she only refers to her as Love.

Ariadne loves singing along with the radio and whenever Anna catches her she gets all shy but Anna loves to hear her sing so she makes her feel more comfortable by enthusiastically playing the air guitar so Ariadne doesn't feel as embarrassed. It works.

Anna memorized Ariadne's order first. She always pays extra attention to Ariadne and while she loves to mix up her mean choice Ariadne only ever eats one thing.

As intimidating and fearless as Anna pretends to be she is scared shitless when it comes to anything small that crawls. Let it be spiders, centipedes, beetles, cockroaches, literally anything and will scream until Ariadne kills it.

Ariadne asks weird questions when she can't sleep at night, Anna finds it highly amusing. (Why is pizza round but the box square- Anna stop laughing I'm serious.)

Anna didn't really ever tell her parents, they just knew. She did however tell her brother who had in turn smiled and nodded, hugged her tightly and told her he was proud of her. Ariadne didn't quite have that loving atmosphere when she came out. (It lead to her leaving in the middle of the night and staying with the Carstairs)

Anna would very much whisper inappropriate things in Ariadne's ear at meetings or when Ariadne is talking to her father. Ariadne yells at Anna for it but it secretly really turns her on and she loves it a lot.

It depends on what they need reassurance on. Anna needs reassurance on the fact that Ariadne really does love her and won't leave her because she starts questioning. Ariadne needs reassurance that what they're doing is right and that Anna isn't going to leave her because she's boring and not always up to Anna's crazy schemes.

Typically Anna is a gentle kisser, she likes to take her time with Ariadne because now they have all the time in the world. Ariadne like to kiss harshly because she's been waiting for so long and always had to reign it in and now she doesn't have to.

Ariadne has had punctuality drilled into her since she was little. She is always exactly five minutes early to everything. Anna on the other hand is fashionably late to everything and normally stolls in casually about ten minutes late

Ariadne has a knack for taking beautiful pictures. She takes pictures of friends and family and Anna is always blown away by the love she manages to capture in her photographs.

Though she would never admit it, Ariadne is actually quite messy and often falls asleep before cleaning up whatever she had gotten out or was doing before she fell asleep and Anna just looks at her fondly and picks it up for her.

Both of them can hold their liquor but when it comes to acting sober Ariadne is much better. Anna turns quite openly inappropriate and loud and laughs at everything which is against her normal mysterious aura but Ariadne just gets quite and overly polite.

Anna likes taking Ariadne on adventures because its out of Ariadne's comfort zone but she always has tons of fun when she's on them.

#arianna #ariadne bridgestock #anna x ariadne #anna lightwood #tlh #the last hours

[oatzmeal]

Alastair Carstairs

“Cordelia glanced over at Alastair; he was expressionless, but his hands, jammed into his pockets, were fists.”

#tsc #tlh #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #chain of gold #chain of iron #alastair carstairs #cams edits #cassandra clare #cordelia carstairs #james herondale #lucie herondale #matthew fairchild #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #jordelia #thomastair #shadowhunters #magnus bane #malec #tid #the infernal devices #tmi #the mortal instruments #tda #the dark artifices #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #blackstairs #ty blackthorn

[hiyorri-n]

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Watercolor fan art of James (Jam) Carstairs — one of the main characters of the "Infernal Devices" Cassandra Clare's book series

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• Paper for watercolor

• Graphite pencil

• Watercolor paints

• White guache paint

#artists on tumblr #artworks #art blog #fanart #my arts #my art lol #my drawing #traditional art #fan art #book characters #watercolor illustration #watercolor art #illustration #book fanart #books #fantasy #fantasy books #cassandra clare #infernal devices #shadowhunters #james carstairs #jam carstairs #арт #арт блог #фанарт #мои арты #мои рисунки #рисунок акварелью #фэнтези #книги

[oldguybones]

Hello! I’m new here and just read the angst fwb prompt you wrote (which broke my heart btw) and was wondering if you would be willing to do a part 2 please?

Part One Found Here

Eddie hated weddings. Every single thing about them was a painstaking dance of misery. Being invited to one was bad enough, but he couldn’t imagine having to go through the grueling process of planning one. He liked to tell himself that he could understand why Richie had barely been a part of his life for the past year or so. That surely the only reason driving his absence was the fact that he now had a bride to answer to, an eager one at that who insisted his voice he heard throughout the wedding planning process. Eddie wasn’t sure if he bought it without some ulterior motive lurking behind true intentions. 

But then again, Eddie hadn’t approved of Sandy since day one. All their mutual friends knew this. Richie himself did too. Eddie didn’t exactly keep it a secret and it definitely put a strain on their already strained relationship. It seemed like it had only been a matter of days; on Thursday, he kicked Richie out of his room after Richie had been happily buried inside him just a couple minutes prior. By Sunday, Richie had a new girlfriend. Dumped by his fuck buddy who caught feelings and then he immediately found a girlfriend.

Eddie tried to tell himself that it didn’t hurt. He tried to tell himself this was just how it was going to be. In the end, he told himself about a million different things, anything really to feel better about the whole situation. He could feel his stomach churning as his fingers shakily tied a knot in his tie. If anyone has any reason these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace. Over and over again, he practiced what he would say in response to that. He wasn’t sure he would ever find peace if he didn’t make his feelings known, more known than they already were anyways.

He grabbed his jacket off of the back of a nearby chair and shrugged it on. From head to toe, he was impeccable, not a single hair or thread out of place. Sandy had been insistent upon the combined look of their wedding party. Eddie scoffed at the idea that Richie didn’t even get to dress his own groomsmen and yet she was so concerned about his involvement in the wedding planning. Uh huh. Sure. Eddie couldn’t help the way his eyes rolled from merely just thinking about it.

The door behind him creaked open and someone stepped inside, closing the door behind them. Eddie looked up into the mirror to catch the reflection of whoever it was. His breath caught in his throat. Richie stood behind him, clad in the picturesque black and white tuxedo. His hair was greased back and out of his face, which was missing his token thick rimmed glasses, in favor of contacts. 

He looked handsome. There was no denying that.

But he didn’t look like Richie. He didn’t look right and it made Eddie’s heart ache to pinpoint the parts of Richie that were missing, the little things that made him who he was. They were all dulled down into this respectable groom, about to be a respectable husband. This wasn’t right.

“Richie…” he began shakily, turning around to face Richie, even if it hurt like hell to do so.

“I know,” Richie agreed to whatever words he thought Eddie was about to say. He held his arms out to the side and did a slow turn, “I clean up good, don’t I?”

“You look great,” Eddie choked out, barely. His soft brown eyes were brimming with tears, and his throat ached with the effort to hold them back. 

“Eds…” Richie whispered worriedly, taking a step to rush over to Eddie.

“No,” Eddie said firmly. His hand flew up to prevent Richie from coming any closer to him. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t bear to see this wrong version of Richie pledge his life away to a woman who wouldn’t even appreciate him for who he really was. “I can’t do this, Richie.”

“Do what?” Richie asked cluelessly, though the furrow of his brows revealed that maybe he wasn’t so clueless after all. Perhaps, above all else, it was suspicion.

“I thought I could do it,” Eddie continued, bringing his hands up to jam against his eyes in a harsh attempt to keep his tears at bay, “I thought being your groomsmen, supporting all of this, I thought it was the only way I could stay in your life. And even after you broke my heart, I still wanted that. I’d rather have you in my life and be miserable than say goodbye to you.”

“Eddie, where’s this all comin-” Richie tried to fit in his query but Eddie kept talking right over him.

“But I can’t!” He exclaimed, shaking his head. “I just can’t watch you marry someone who doesn’t appreciate you! Someone who doesn’t love you for every last, annoying piece of what makes you who you are!”

The room fell dangerously silent. After a moment, they could hear the commotion of the guests arriving at the venue and the hustle and bustle of the wedding they were both supposed to be a part of. It made the tension hanging in the air thicker, even more unbearable than it had been moments ago. 

“You deserve that, Richie,” Eddie said in a quiet voice, finally though barely breaking the agonizing silence. “You deserve someone who loves you for who you are. You deserve someone who laughs at all your stupid jokes and listens to all of your ridiculous accents! You deserve someone who loves every last crazy curl of your hair and someone who doesn’t force you to wear contacts!”

Richie seemed to consider it for a moment, his brows wrinkling in confusion. “So, I’m just supposed to call off my wedding? Is that it?” he demanded, “Leave my fiance at the altar because you think she’s not good enough for me?”

Eddie’s lips parted in soft disbelief. For a few passing moments, he couldn’t find anything to say. He was stunned to hear such a tone coming from Richie, from his childhood best friend, who he always hoped would end up being his husband one day. But just like he couldn’t make the world stop turning, he couldn’t make Richie love him.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispered, closing his eyes and letting a few tears trickle down his cheeks. “I never should have done this. I should’ve just left it be. But I just can’t.” He took a step closer to Richie, testing the boundaries. “And I know this is so incredibly selfish. But I love you, Richie. Okay? I always have. I love every last piece of you and above all else, I just want you to be happy.”

More silence followed. Eddie contemplated walking out the door entirely; he couldn’t take much more of the loaded silence. It was beginning to worm its way into his psyche. He already knew this wasn’t going to end well, he didn’t need to wait and find out.

Right as he reached the door to leave, he felt a hand circle around his wrist and pull him backwards. Eddie stumbled a little, but spun around to face Richie. He hardly had any time to process it before Richie’s arm wrapped around his waist, pulled him in closer and then their lips were connected in a powerful kiss that threatened to buckle Eddie’s knees. 

His hand came up to cradle the back of Richie’s neck, the other resting on the bicep of the arm Richie had wrapped around him. The kiss was firm, lasting only a few seconds but the sparks flying between them made it feel like a lifetime. This one, brief kiss thrilled Eddie more than the entirety of their friends with benefits situation ever had years ago. It took his breath away. 

They pulled apart and pressed their foreheads together.

Eddie swallowed hard at the raw intimacy of the touch. It was everything he ever wanted in one soft, still moment. “What does this mean?” he whispered, unable to stop himself from ruining the moment with whatever definition he crazed so desperately. 

“I don’t know,” Richie replied softly, the breath of his chuckle tickling Eddie’s lips. “I don’t know what this is or what it means. But I-I know that I always have the best time when I’m with you and I’ve missed you so much these past few years.” He brushed back a stray piece of hair out of Eddie’s face. 

“I didn’t go anywhere.”

“I know,” Richie’s lips curved up into a smile. “I just-I missed the way we used to be. You, me, your college dorm. Those were some of the best years of my life, Eds.”

Eddie looked up at Richie with what he could only describe as heart eyes. The leftover tears shining in them lingered, now out of pure happiness. “Mine too,” he whispered, unable to help the wide grin that spread over his face. 

It seemed to be contagious because Richie wore an identical one. “I don’t know where to go from here. But I’m really hoping you’ll go on the journey with me.”

“Could you be any cheesier?” Eddie questioned, throwing his head back with a laugh. As it trailed off, he stood on his tiptoes to kiss Richie again. Right before their lips touched, he whispered, “I love that about you.”

And, in the future, when they told their kids how they got together, the story would end with them trying to sneak out of a second story window and the subsequent ER trip that followed. 

Taglist: @maximusfraker, @eds-kas, @iamworried7, @flix-net, @reddiesetandgo, @saturnsocoolioyep,  @tinyarmedtrex, @bbyeds,  @was-i-even-reddie,  @its-stranger-than-you-think, @s-s-georgie @thelazyeye, @studpuffin, @stylesmelon, @xandertheundead. @eddiefuckinkaspbrak, @jem-carstairs-is-perfection, @constantreaderfool, @nancynwheeler, @purplepoisonedgem, @reddieobsessed, @reddieslashgeneralhorror, @kaspbrak-tozier-reddie, @ultrapaninibred, @sarafigueiredo13, @svnnyflwr, @lifesucksheres20bucks, @trashmouthtozierr, @rebecca-the-queen, @darkobsidianquill

#My Work #Reddie #Prompt Filled #Anonymous

[beyondtheciouds]

.28.

Part 1.

Cordelia groaned for the tenth time, her slim, manicured hands flying through the pastel silks and earthy linens in the massive oak trunk at the foot of Lucie's bed. She groaned again and stretched her arms. Her dark eyes swept up through her lashes and glanced at the clock above Lucie's headboard.

Quarter of seven and the script had been flipped inside out. Cordelia's fiery temper was sparking at a dangerous speed. She didn't exactly have time for this type of time consuming ordeal.

Lucie fully expected James and Cordelia to be on the train tonight. Cordelia had yet to tell her fiancé the plans. Or pack.

Her fiancé. James was her fiancé. Cordelia stiffled a nervous laugh with the bite of her teeth on her lip feeling like she owed him way more than the Let's go see Lucie excuse. Months had slipped by with James claimed as hers and yet she was struggling; the future in and out of focus. It felt like her life was no longer her own. These desperate tightly wrapped threads; pieces of precious time stitched together with white lies and blunt deceit. Cordelia's grave was a shallow hole in the ground; her wedding the weight she could not wait to be lifted.

Linette Herondale's marquis diamond sparkled on her ring finger in the waning light filtering in through Lucie's periwinkle curtains. The ring twinkled as if reminding Cordelia she had an obligation to James.

A wink of good luck. A message from beyond.

Her fiancé. Still, the word sounded strange in her head and on her lips. Cordelia had never conceded to call him by that title when she introduced him.

He was James.

He'd always be just James to her.

She couldn't tell him the truth.

She could.

She wouldn't give away Lucie's secrets.

She would.

She shouldn't break her promises to Lucie.

She should.

How many times had she dug through the contents of the trunk in the last half hour? How many times had she read the context of words in Lucie's letter, memorizing it word by word so she remembered the items Luce requested?

Cordelia grimaced, reciting the list in her head, her lips moving breaths of air. Although the door was fully opened, she felt secure with Lucie's secrets. And besides, no one else was here besides her brother.

Arum Lilies. Bones of a sparrow. Spindles of a spider. Eye of newt. ...and lastly the graveyard dirt of a traitor. All wrapped up in a silken green scarf.

The scarf, Cordelia knew had special meaning to Lucie although she would never elaborate. Even so, Cordelia knew the expensive accessory had been Matthew's favorite and he did not give away such pieces easily or freely.

Matthew, Cordelia thought throwing her hands in the air, thinking of the blonde boy she had become a little too friendly with. The act defiantly pushed carefully brushed mahogany tresses over her shoulder. What would he think of this nonsense? What would he think?

Cordelia thought she knew what he'd think as well as she knew the back of her hand. It was the same thing that she was thinking. Lucie had gone mad.

To Cordelia all these creepy things seriously sounded like the ingredients of some horrible spell.

Cordelia had no idea how right she was.

For all her sense, she couldn't imagine why Grace would want them or what her best friend was doing with the dark items.

Lucie had assured Cordelia though that bringing these items were all necessary for her plan to save Tessa.

So Cordelia believed Lucie.

Cordelia set out on a dark scavenger hunt the moment she was free and able. She followed the instructions and she had ended up empty handed thus far.

Cordelia sighed angrily, sitting back on her knees. The royal blue skirt of her dress curled around and under her legs. Breathless, the intricate white lace trim caressed her bare feet and she subdued the giggle burning like liquor in her belly.

Feeling frustrated, Cordelia says, "I have looked eighteen times and there is no green scarf in this forsaken trunk!" Her voice is an octave or two too high. She says this to Alastair, who lies sprawled like an alley cat on the chaise lounge. He's been lazily pretending to be reading yesterday's newspaper for the last hour.

Alastair looked up from the article on motor cars and raised an eyebrow. Cordelia saw that his dark eyes were exceptionally curious as he peeked over the edge of the London Times. His lips are stretched in a thin, disappointed line. "You should leave well enough alone. Go see Lucie and when she asks, tell her you couldn't find the scarf."

Cordelia grimaces and puts her hands on her hips. "She will know I didn't look hard enough. It is not easy to lie to her."

Alastair was genuinely concerned, but his curiosity outweighed any further questions brewing. He was indeed very vexed, but mostly interested as to what his sister's soon to be parabatai was doing with very dangerous and dark items.

Items he knew were strictly forbidden by the Clave. He wasn't pleased Lucie was dragging his sister into whatever scheme she had gotten herself jammed in.

He kept quiet as he scowled.

Cordelia chewed on her lip. Could she tell Alastair? Could she trust her brother as much as Lucie trusted James?

Cordelia was raised to answer that question with an immediate yes, but she felt this was Lucie's secret, not hers.

So, she said nothing and shrugged her shoulders.

Alastair rolled his eyes in annoyance but didn't press any further. He resumed reading, but his lips were drawn in a tight line. "Secrets are really becoming a trend around here, aren't they, Cordelia?"

Cordelia gulped quietly. Alastair was tip-toeing around what he already knew.

Thomas cleared his throat loudly, interupting their conversation. He had startled both Cordelia and Alastair to a jolt. The Carstairs siblings matching dark gazes both slid to the doorway.

Alastair held his breath, keeping his disinterested facade. The truth was, Thomas Lightwood was growing on him.

Cordelia blinked, smiling. She kept thinking she saw her brother sit up a little straighter at Thomas's arrival.

Alastair exhaled as a blush flushed out the annoyance in his stern face. "Hello Thomas."

"Oh," Cordelia gasped, her own face pinkening to a spring rose. "Tom! Hello!"

Thomas was never one for greetings so he stared at them blankly before his brain kicked in and his mouth started moving. "Have you looked under the loose board on the bottom? Sometimes Lucie hides stuff in there." Thomas had sounded like he'd searched Lucie's room before and that made Cordelia weary.

Usually, he gave off the impossible impression that he was happy. Today however, all Thomas did was eye Cordelia skeptically as if something about her bothered him.

The idea that he would be suspicious of Cordelia needed additional attention, but now was not the time. Cordelia reached into the linens again and pulled back a loose board on the bottom. As she yanked up, she'd snagged the ring on something sharp and small.

Thomas's large hand gestured to Cordelia's letter lying discarded on the floor. "I'm surprised she didn't mention it in the letters."

"How do you know Lucie sent that to Cordelia?" Alastair asked, setting the newspaper down beside him. He tried not smile at Thomas. He cleared his throat and successfully retained his distant expression.

Thomas was the opposite. He tried to smile all friendly at Alastair. This was the game they had to play. "Oh, let's just say I have a knack for figuring out all her spots."

Thomas was standing in the open doorway of Lucie's bedroom. To Cordelia he appeared almost comfortable, like he'd been in that position a thousand times before. He leaned his large frame against the doorway. His hazel eyes were keen as he watched Alastair watching him.

Thomas wore dark brown pants held up by black suspenders that raced up his back. His white, linen shirt had a few wet spots, like he'd been doing physical labor; sweating. The shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. Thomas was uncharacteristically careless and open, exposing tan muscles that never faded.

Cordelia shivered, pulling her hand free. Warm liquid gushed from the scrape across the palm of her hand. Her dark eyes swept up watching her brother's eyebrows knit.

The sun was setting. It was getting late.

This was the first time he'd looked; really looked at Thomas. Alastair's world had tilted; roating sideways. He was frozen, stricken and startled.

Speechless, Alastair could only awkwardly clear his throat as his mind ran with scenarios. He couldn't stop imaging Thomas without the shirt, so his darkening eyes roamed down. His heart thumped in his chest; beating like a drum before he shamed his gaze to the floor. Not in front of Cordelia. Never again in front of her.

Alastair coughed, glancing out the window. He needed a distraction that didn't come in the form of a tall, tan, muscled guy.

Cordelia raised her eyes at her brother as he licked his lips, staring out into the growing darkness. Her own curiosity had peeked as she looked between the two boys. She had known of Alastair and Charles, but Thomas? She couldn't be sure his breeze blew in that direction. Time would tell.

Cordelia, frustrated at the waste of time, stood up. She adjusted her skirt and frowned, looking squarely at Thomas. It was on instinct she felt to scrutinize him as she grabbed a sheet from the pile in the trunk and wrapped it around her bleeding hand. "Where else?"

Alastair looked horrified as he turned away from the window. "Cordelia. Your hand. Do you need a izrate?"

Cordelia groaned, tightening the makeshift bandage as her brother pulled his stele from the pocket of his maroon waistcoat. "I'll be fine for now."

Thomas let out a quick, nervous chuckle, refocusing his hazel eyes on Cordelia. "Lucie has lots of hidden treasures in her room."

#cassandra clare #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #cordelia carstairs #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood

[jonismitchell]

hey arden do you have any book suggestions? i don’t have any preference/specific genre i’m looking for but i just need something new to read while in quarantine :)

you’re in luck! i happen to be a massive nerd and i’m going to compile a gigantic list of recs for you. here we go.

the only classics worth reading: i want to preface this by saying i did not pick these books because they are written by women. they are just good and they happen to be by women. this reinforces my theory that only women can write.

emma by jane austen: better than pride and prejudice by a long shot. the characters are funny, the romance is swoon worthy (don’t think too hard about the age gap), it says very smart things about society, and i could write an essay on how it revolutionized fiction.

wuthering heights by emily bronte: my all time favourite book about how awful people are and how the cycle of abuse perpetuates itself. it’s absolutely exceptional in every respect. i won’t go into too much detail because i don’t want to give anything away, but you should definitely read this book.

jane eyre by charlotte bronte: i’m not saying i’m a bronte sister stan, i’m just saying i’m a bronte sister stan who can’t be bothered to take five seconds to copy the accent. anyway, i read this book when i was a wee lass and i stole it from an apartment in nice. the characters are genuinely amazing, and it’s an early feminist book, which i think is fantastic.

the handmaid’s tale by margaret atwood: you don’t get more feminist classic than this. set in a dystopian future where women are only valued for their ability to procreate, atwood examines gender roles and still delivers a brilliant adventure story. if you end up liking this, try the power by naomi alderman, which essentially tells of the opposite society.

the bell jar by sylvia plath: an introspective story about mental illness. it’s the type of writing that i feel hits hard at about any age, and i remember feeling really haunted after finishing the whole thing in a night. definitely high up on my list of amazing novels.

feel good books: sometimes, we need to read something that’s not revolutionary but still radical. don’t worry, i got you. here’s the lasagna of novels.

finding audrey by sophie kinsella: this book is funny, heartwarming, and makes you think. as someone with anxiety, i felt really represented by a lot of audrey’s behaviours. her mom is lowkey nuts, but i feel like that shouldn’t impede your enjoyment of the book.

the shadowhunters series by cassandra clare: LISTEN. objectively cassandra clare is a terrible person. objectively these books are not good. but they are amusing! they are comforting! they are interesting! also, there are a million of them. start with the infernal devices: clockwork angel, clockwork prince, and clockwork princess. set in old old london, this series features the only valid love triangle ever, girls who like to read and kick ass, and boys who are soft and play the violin. next, head to the mortal instruments, which is pretty much drinny fanfiction. don’t think too hard during these and you’ll have a good time. after that, read the short story collections the bane chronicles and tales of shadowhunter academy. if you got really into the lore (like me) these books are funny and a little captivating. finally, get to the highlight of this whole thing, the dark artifices. the one true love of my life, emma carstairs, stars in this brilliant trilogy about forbidden love. yes, it’s super corny, but all these books are super corny. if you can’t get enough of the universe (or accidentally got hooked) try out the collection ghosts of the shadow market. once you finish that, you can read the first books in the new series(es), red scrolls of magic and chain of gold. all of these books are jam packed with magic and vaguely plagarized demons. not brilliant, but a fun ride.

emma mills books: emma mills writes cute happy contemporary romances and i can’t recommend her enough! first & then tells the story of a jane austen obsessed nerd who crushes on a jock. which could actually be about me, and if you trust my judgement, you probably like me enough to read this book secretly written about me. foolish hearts gives theatre kids and boy band stans alike a chance to feel represented in what could be one of the sweetest (and funniest!) romances of all time. famous in a small town gives band kids and people who are clarinet-sized a chance to shine, and includes a country singer who struck me with her similarities to taylor swift. (our song is even referenced in the novel!) by far my favourite would have to be this adventure ends, which is hilarious and heartbreaking and talks about fanfiction without looking down on it. all of these books are definitely feel good and will make you believe in heterosexual romance.

mildly upsetting fantasy: just fantasy trilogies that will hurt you.

the poppy war by r.f. kuang: wonder what harry potter would be like if the magic system was complicated and the murder was high? no, like high on opium? and the plot was based on chinese military history? look no further than the brilliant work of art that is the poppy war. this book is by far the best fantasy out there, i cannot exaggerate that enough. also out is the equally compelling sequel the dragon republic, and the final book in the trilogy is set to hit shelves this year. please please please read this amazing book.

six of crows by leigh bardugo: six dysfunctional criminals try to steal from the most heavily guarded prison in the world. what could go wrong? this novel is intelligent and witty, and will keep you on the edge of your seat as you’re dragged into this scheming and brilliant world. in my opinion, this is the only valid book in the grishaverse. this and its equally well plotted sequel, crooked kingdom.

the gilded wolves by roshani choski: this one is definitely similar to six of crows in its funny and smart main cast. the magic system is super unique and the plot is endlessly enjoyable. it’s also set in old old paris! so france is always fun. there are also tons of mythology references and disaster bisexuals. and apparently the sequel (the silvered serpents) comes out july of this year.

scythe by neal shusterman: the first book on this list by a man, wow! i’m so inclusive. anyway, this genius trilogy is set in a world where humanity has solved almost every single problem, except overpopulation and corruption. an elite order called scythes are tasked with killing and managing the order of death. it’s like the hunger games went took a political science seminar. everything spirals out of control very quickly and the characters are so great. the sequels are called thunderhead and the toll respectively, and the overarching tale is gripping.

the cruel prince by holly black: i’m not kidding when i say this is the only faery book that matters. this book stars a human girl who grows up in the magical world and more violence than is statistically necessary. but it’s good! this is also a trilogy (every book on this list is the first one in a trilogy, i am the worst, i’m sorry) and the sequel the wicked king is quite possibly the best scheme-y magic politics thing i’ve ever read. and the final book, queen of nothing, doesn’t disappoint by a long shot.

contemporaries no one talks about

the boy who steals houses by cg drews: this book has autistic representation! and it’s written by book blogger paperfury, who is even more of a delight on the page than she is on the internet. be warned, this book includes heavy mentions of abuse and graphic violence that are unavoidable. but it will break your heart and stitch it back together again. also, waffles.

some boys by patty blount: this book deals very candidly with the aftermath of rape and public pressure. it is also one of my favourite books of all time for its treatment of ‘bro culture.’ and the heroine, grace, is incredibly strong. i read this book in maybe fourth grade? and it essentially inspired me to start giving a damn about social justice. so yeah, there’s that. (i also haven’t read it since fourth grade, so someone will have to tell me if it holds up).

emergency contact by mary choi: i’m rereading this for the second time right now and it’s still really awesome. it tells the story of an unlikely friendship, big dreams, and does it all through a really interesting narrative voice that manages to effectively capture two very different people. it is yet another romance, but it’s really wonderful and heartwarming. (unlike the other two books in this section).

children’s books that treat kids like people

a series of unfortunate events by lemony snicket: this is quite literally my favourite series of all time. it’s upsetting and kind of wrong once you think about it a lot, but it’s also maybe the best thing ever written. i literally cannot explain how much i love these books. there are thirteen books, so you’re definitely in for a good, long time.  

the mysterious benedict society by trenton lee stewart: three books about propaganda and smart kids and found family. i literally do not know what else you want out of a series. it’s fun and there’s only a little bit of kidnapping, so it’s very family appropriate compared to the other books on this list.

wuh luh wuh

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo by taylor jenkins reid: i KNOW no one shuts up about this book but you really should read it. like, there’s nothing that will ever top the narrative. the drama, the glamour, the girls who love girls, you know? all the components of a brilliant novel. it’s also got some truly poetic prose and genuinely beautiful moments. the reason everyone talks about this book is because it’s amazing. send tweet.

girls of paper and fire by natasha ngan:  (massive trigger warning for sexual violence)  haha! another violent fantasy book that’s part of a trilogy! thought you escaped that, didn’t you? this magic system is brilliant and the book is so good. it’s a breath of fresh air into young adult fiction. and did i mention it’s a wlw romance? i read this during a math class and had to go to the bathroom to cry when i finished it, because there was finally a heroine in a fantasy novel who i could see myself in. there’s also a sequel, girls of storm and shadow, that is equally amazing.

it’s not like it’s a secret by misa suigura: wlw girls with soft poetry vibes. complicated family lives. candidly dealing with racism, sexism, and homophobia. this book is really good. simply read this book.

i have even MORE book recs but i decided to cut myself off because this is the longest thing i’ve ever written for tumblr. hope you enjoy!

#angxlsrolltheireyes #book recs #asking with you

[svnnyk]

I'm one that tends to listen to music while reading, and I'm just wondering what do you guys listen to? Any suggestions?

#reading #long reads #music #books #book #bookstagram #bookworm #love #book lover #lord of shadows #cassandra clare #the dark artifices #los #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #mark blackthorn #cristina rosales #jams #tunes #good music #goodvibes