#But they didn't so they can only appreciate it as written poetry (they won't)

[zoobus]

Don't care that dorky cornballs hate rap because I truly believe it's difficult to get into any genre of music you didn't get a taste of during adolescence unless you're one of those weirdo freaks who listen to new music their entire lives. Yeah there's a racist element to it but overall I think people who actively listen to music outside of pop but say they don't like rap are telling the truth, the musical components associated with hip hop (I'm not talking about lyrics) are largely unpleasant to their ears. I feel the same way about classic rock.

Like I can show a Hamilton stan Story 2 by clipping. - a queer Be Gay, Did Crimes song where a man took his ass to therapy - and I still don't think they would like it. Appreciate it maybe, but not like it.

[sunnylands-world]

If it's the last time forever

PAIRING: Draco x fem reader

SUMMARY: it wasn't ever supposed to be more than a few nights together but a few nights can lead to three words that can ruin everything

WORD COUNT: 1'243

WARNING: mentions of sex, angst, some poetry I wrote in between

UNIVERSE: harry potter

A/N: hi everyone! Sorry I haven't been as active, adult life is kicking my ass right now, anyway I have a request similar to this so I'm thinking I'll make that part 2

You read the warnings if you continue to read. I'm not to be held responsible.

Comments, reblogs, and inboxes are appreciated and motivational

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVING MY WORK POSTED TRANSLATED OR PUBLISHED TO ANY THIRD-PARTY SITE OR APP. IF ANYONE SEES MY WORK ANYWHERE BUT HERE IT HAS BEEN REPOSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Draco knew what this time meant. He'd come to your door around this hour many times but this time it felt more weighted, like what was behind it was his two way answer for life and choosing the wrong answer would ruin everything, he didn't like this feeling. It was suffocating, wrapping his heart in rope and pulling at it till it bled and left sores; but this wasn't supposed to feel that way and it hadn't always.

It was just sex, it had been for months and that's how it was supposed to stay but going into this he knew the risk of touching, seeing, and breathing you in.

That's what started this in the first place.

He'd wanted you but not like this, not before at least. In the beginning he wanted you to himself for pleasure and pleasure only. He didn't like the thought of sharing what he touched and you were his, just for a night; but after a while it wasn't just a quick leave and enter…

The words that were whispered in a breath, the touches that gripped tighter, and the positions went from just feeling to seeing.

The need to see your eyes, the need to feel your lips.

you'd both broken the rules all because sex gave way for feelings and they were clearly there with every movement but neither of you let the words that would change it all slip…

That's where it got intense, that was the hold back that was the brick of ice on waves of water.

As you opened the door you didn't even meet his eyes, and in the beginning that was how it was supposed to be but now it hurts not seeing them look hopeful and excited to see him.

He only sighed as he looked you over while you fidgeted with your fingers. you were so beautiful so perfect to him, something written out of his own diary…

"We need to stop this," you rushed the words out like they were hot on your tongue and he had to admit they stung.

"I- fine" he said, kicking his raw emotions down the steps and watching them tumble.

"Why can't you just say it, do I really mean nothing to you? are you not even gonna try to change my mind!?" You shouted, cracks in your voice making way for your tears to fall and shaking like you'd cave.

"ricochet, ricochet my love… don't fall apart because of me."

"Say what?! That I want this!" He snapped, still fighting back the part of him that wanted more.

"you won't even fight for us, it's like you're heartless!" You say, pointing at him and every breath sucked in like there's not enough air to breathe.

"Can I hold you close, caress your skin, til you can breathe once again? I am the wave beneath your boat, I know how well you float…"

he wanted to tell you that it wasn't true, that he'd been thinking about you when he wasn't here. that he'd been distracted because he needed to be near you to focus. That every time he said possessive things in your ear he meant it but…he wasn't going to.

"I'd tell you something in French because it's pretty, but I can't speak it. My darling, my love. it's hard to be romantic when you're choking on food"

he wasn't sure why but all this scared him, maybe it was because he was in a position that put you in danger or maybe he was afraid of what this all meant but seeing you cry like this dropped his heart Into in stomach breaking it into pieces. He never wanted to be the source of your pain, he only wanted to make everything better but here he was breaking your heart because he was scared.

"Don't cry, please don't cry. I swear I tried but I fuck up sometimes. This isn't an excuse, my pretty muse. I'm an asshole and I know it's true but I sure do give a fuck about you"

"Are you ashamed? Is that it? Does being in love with Harry Potter's sister bother you that much? No, you're a coward. you don't want others to see you with me!"

Your words were full of rage and he deserved it but this was how it had to be, to much was what it would cost and because he hadn't really experienced love he was sure it was worth the risk but he also didn't want it to end like this but telling you otherwise would light a fire in you with hope so he lied.

"yes! I'm afraid I'll look like less if I'm with you!" He said and it sounded like a script he'd rehearsed but it did the job because you felt like a bullet went through you, you were bleeding out, possibly dying.

"Say it isn't true. I'm pulling the rope because I'm in love with you. Be the one to pull it back, fight for what I tried to push back. I won't last long your love gives me a heart attack"

"Get out! And don't even come back again, I never want to see you again, don't speak to me ever again!!" You shouted slamming the door in his face and just like that it was over.

He had to hide his pain as he walked away. He didn't need people to know he was seeing you in the first place. He could hear his father now, picture all the danger this one relationship could be.

He knew if others found out they'd have a field day with the knowledge that draco malfoy was with potter's sister. Word would travel fast like fire on grass, one blade catching and passing along until the whole field burned and that would mean the other death eaters would know. then they'd force him to say where Harry was or worse tell him to trick you into trusting him enough so he could get closer to harry and then they'd want him to kill him.

He couldn't do that to you, he wouldn't.

As time went by his days seemed to be darker than before, much darker and colder than his home.

He didn't like not seeing you anymore, not breathing your air, not meeting your eyes that held a light pulling him and taking him away from all of this.

He wished it was different, pictured a life where he wasn't who he was. Just an ordinary boy without complications but maybe then none of this would have happened, there may not have ever been a him and you.

It made his heart heavy and put a pit in his belly and his throat felt closed and empty. Were you worth it? Were you worth changing everything… he knew you were but he was still just Draco Malfoy and he knew deep down that what happened between you would be the last time forever…

Or maybe it wouldn't

"I can kiss a million roses and forget which one but the reds all stay the same like our love with a claw. I've never been scared of bears because I've never seen them maul but now I know they do have claws, scratching at our love like we've attacked them all. fear not my love, it's not the end for hearts can heal again and roses may grow with new stems…"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MY TAGLIST HAS OFFICIALLY SHORTENED! IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN MORE OF MY WORK FOR DRACO COMMENT BELOW! 🥳

©Sunnylands-world this belongs to me therefore you don't have the right to do anything with my work or ideas without permission.

Nice thought, reblogs, and inboxing is appreciated and motivational ❤

Draco lovers and requests

@alexxavicry, @kyracanwrite, @animeloverfreak310, @phildunphyisadilf

[clairelsonao3]

Happy STS, Claire! I’m thinking about our guy today, and how he is a man of many, many talents. Are there any other skills/talents that have remained hidden from the plot so far, or that you just haven’t had a chance to work into the story? Or is there (gasp) a limit to how damn awesome he can be?

Same q for Louisa! Anything she’s great at we just haven’t seen her do yet? (Other than improv, of course 😉)

Happy STS and thanks so much for the ask, Kate!

Yes, he certainly is, isn't he? I'd like to think we've seen most of his talents, but he still surprises even me sometimes. 😂

Also, I will take this opportunity to note that, gifted as he is, many of the skills he's cultivated -- science, engineering/mechanics, music, chess, computer hacking, even psychological manipulation -- come just as much from hard work as natural talent. Hard work he put in, initially, simply to fight for whatever basic crumbs of respect it could get him. I think back to this line from Ch. 24:

[Free people] didn’t have to spend every spare moment racking their brains to exhaustion, figuring out ways to be smarter and better than everybody around them, for the mere privilege of not being kicked in the teeth.

So what else? (I’ll try to speak as hypothetically as possible and NOT turn any of these into spoilers!) It's been stated that he never bothered to put much effort into learning about finance or economics. But besides unabashedly loving money as only someone could who's never had any, he actually has some business acumen and could be capable of being a good entrepreneur, business leader, and investor, were he ever to get the opportunity. Particularly because he has a unique understanding of the dangers of unchecked capitalism and thus understands how it can and must be used as a force for good instead of evil.

He has good hand-eye coordination, and with his appreciation for the fine arts, he's decent at drawing and even painting, although I suspect his skills would fall more along the lines of art forgery than creating anything of his own. 😂 And although he doesn't have much experience, I feel like he would be good at handling weapons and have good aim with a gun (though I haven't decided whether we'll get a chance to find out before all is said and done...) And there are a couple of other less-deadly pastimes involving similar skills which he may eventually prove surprisingly decent at. I can't say much more than that, so feel free to speculate!

That said, he will NEVER be good at cooking, ever. And though Louisa may well improve her skills in that area someday with practice (she might even yet learn how to work an espresso machine 😂), I’m afraid there's no hope for him.

She, meanwhile, was okay at sports and physical stuff growing up; she just didn't really enjoy competition that much. She's totally untrained in self-defense, but we've seen that she is surprisingly bold when it comes to defending herself. She might eventually take up some type of martial art, simply to improve her confidence levels and to make sure she won't ever feel helpless again. (Neither one of them like that feeling very much). Also, she can write! She's definitely written poetry in the past (which of course she would die before showing to anyone), and although it was typical angsty teen girl material, I can say it was at least slightly above average.🤣 But I think her main writing talents lie in nonfiction, and I could see her turn to conducting research and writing and publishing persuasive essays or op-eds to advocate for the causes and principles she believes in.

[1ts-4ll-1ust-w0rd-v0m1t]

ABOUT JEVA/COLLECTION OF WORK

Hey! I'm who you'll call Jeva!

Jeva is not my irl name, but it is my chosen initials irl. It will work for here!

I'm a novice at writing, but I definitely use it as a coping mechanism. Even further, it's some of my art, and I want to share my art dammit! Even if it usually comes from my pain. Especially since writing is one of my healthier coping mechanisms, and it should be encouraged.

My poems are usually written while having an emotional "high," which so far has only been negative or somewhat bittersweet. Some of my poems were written years ago when I was still a teenager, and I think they contain that specific youth. Two of them (the love poems) were written more recently. I'm planning on getting into writing more as it's always been an interest of mine, just not one I thought was personally achievable. I don't think it's healthy to restrict myself like that, and I'm trying to work on that part of myself to be more free.

The story I'm writing is something I've been planning in my head for years with no idea what to do with. I was hung up on it being just right and everything. so hung up that I became worried that I wouldn't bring it into existence at all! So I decided to just wing it! It's never going to be perfect anyway, so why not embrace chaos!

That was a lot about my writing,

I should probably talk more about myself. I'm 21 year old trans man, and I'm gender nonconforming, so my pronouns are he/they, I'm also bisexual, demi aroace and in a T4T relationship with my boyfriend/partner/comrade of 13+ years. So I'm with all that I'm just a .little gay boy, I don't care.

I'm officially diagnosed with ptsd/left open to c-ptsd, generalized anxiety, major depressive disorder, and autism. So if you're ever looking at my art and wondering "what the fuck is wrong with this guy?" that's just what I have medically recognized. I believe I have more going on, in terms of I think I have adhd/add, dyslexia, a dissociative disorder from trauma, etc...

I want to organize everything somehow attached to here so everyone can have a base to go off of, including myself. I'm okay with people giving me notes on my writing. Depending on what is said, I might implement it into my writing and poetry. It also depends on how what is said is said to me. If you come at me being a dick I probably won't respond well, I don't listen to dicks, I suck them. I believe respect is earned, not given. That being said, if you see anything you believe to be a word error, misspelling, bad or lacking punctuation, grammar errors, it would be appreciated if it was pointed out to me. Sometimes, I purposefully use grammar in a way people may think is off because it conveys the point better. Grammar and language is subjective, and I tell you whether it was intentional or not! As for spelling mistakes and whatnot, as I mentioned, I'm probably dyslexic or idk just illiterate. I legitimately don't see it. It's actually really helpful to have it pointed out. Just be a meany. My excuse for but punctuation is that I legitimately was never taught, like I didn't understand when I was taught and when I asked for extra help I was just told, "well what do you think needs to go there?" So, um, I have a fragile understanding of how punctuation works, I just fake it till I make it. Thank you if you end up helping me!

Thank you for reading this, If you did! I hope you enjoy my chaos!

My poem collection...

My AO3

[flowercrown-bard]

Thank you @samstree for the prompt and I also saw @a-kind-of-merry-war demanding mouse-names, so here we go!

"Pleased to make your aquaintance, my good sirs. It's not every day that I find myself with such fine company." Jaskier inclines his head, his most charming smile dancing on his lips. "I am sure you've heard of me, but for propriety's sake I shall introduce myself to you fine gentlemen either way." Jaskier sits up a little straighter and spreads his arms wide in one of his trademark dramatic gestures - well. He sure tries to spread his arms, but he gets stopped pretty much immediately by the shackles around his wrists.

He curses silently, but like the performer that he is, he keeps his smile on his face.

"My name is Jaskier, also known as Julian Alfred Pankratz, former best friend and barker of the White Wolf, master of the seven liberal arts and most handsome and most renown graduate of Oxenfurt. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

There is in awkward pause, then -

"The pleasure is all mine. I am Mr. Whiskers," Jaskier says to himself, in a pitch much higher than usual. The mice sitting at his feet only stare at him in confusion. Yeah. Jaskier would have judged himself too if he had any damns left to give. So he does what any good bard would do when his audience isn't very appreciative of what comes out of his mouth: he continues with an even brighter smile and pretends that he isn't a complete idiot for trying to make friends with mice.

"And I am Mr Whiskers' mouse-spouse," Jaskier says in a deeper voice. He tries very hard not to think about the fact that his pitch now sounds exactly like it had twenty years ago when he had imitated a certain witchers' voice to tease him. "And my name is - uh..."

Jaskier trails off, looking helplessly at the mouse who blinks up at him curiously but doesn't offer any solutions to the problem of Jaskier not knowing any other mouse-appropriate names.

In his normal voice Jaskier says, "Huh. I guess if you're Mr Whiskers' spouse, you'd be Mr Whiskers too? Or Mr Whiskers Two?" The mice exchange unimpressed glances and Jaskier sighs, letting his hands fall back down into his lap.

"Yeah, no I didn't think so. That would get confusing really quickly. I am very sorry, my dear, but I'm afraid I don't know any other mouse names. My creative genius apparently runs dry at one mouse-name per day. That's what I get for pledging myself to one muse and one muse only. As soon as he leaves me, so does all poetry and creativity." He cocks his head. "Oh! But you could be my new muse! So I probably should call you something that I could fit into a song. Something like... In a lovely house/ there once lived a mouse/ with a handsome spouse/ whose name was Klaus - No. No no no, absolutely not. The metre would be all over the place and it sounds like something Valdo Marx would have written in his first semester. No, that won't do at all. Maybe... Hmmm."

Jaskier winces and shuts his mouth immediately. No need to think about how similar he sounded to Geralt for a second there. No need to think about him at all. Then again...

"You know what? My...someone I once knew had a time honored tradition. He could call all of his trusty animal companions Roach. Now of course that is not a good enough name for a noble mouse such as yourself and I will most certainly come up with a better name, but - "

The mouse shuffles closer, making soft tap-tap noises with his tiny feet. Then, it sniffs a little at Jaskier's leg and begins climbing it until it reaches his hands.

"You like the name Roach, huh?“

The mouse let's out an adorable little squeak that makes Jaskier's lips twitch.

He holds his breath and watches with almost embarrassing excitement as the mouse puts one tiny foot on Jaskier's hand, looking up at him with big black eyes. Black like Geralt's eyes after drinking one of his potions. Jaskier had never been able to deny those eyes anything.

"Fine," he sighs and lifts the mouse in his hands up so they can better look each other in the eyes. "You can be Roach. On the condition that if you ever meet Geralt, you won't snitch on me and tell him that I'm no better at coming up with names than he is."

Roach gives another squeak and curls up in Jaskier's hand, as if there was no place more comfortable.

Maybe, with enough patience, Jaskier will be able to train his new mouse friends to bite through his shackles. Or maybe he could send them out like messenger pigeons and find Geralt for him.

Eh, probably not, but a bard can dream. For now Jaskier is just glad to have made new friends. Though he really, really wishes he could have his old ones back.

[o-wyrmlight]

alright because you're interested,,,

-okay so first of all i love height headcanons and i think it would be so goofy if lily was actually the tallest but like. just barely her and cacao are basically the same height but she's just ever so slightly taller

-this is almost unrelated but dark cacao writes poetry that's what i always say. hewrites poems for his partners (pv and lily keep them all in a binder) it's practically the only way he knows how to show affection

-pv loves to play with lily and cacaos hair

-i have a hc that all the ancients went to the magic academy together i am obsessed with this idea dark cacao transferred over at some point they all came together to form one friend group through gc and hollyberry beginning to talk (pv dragged lily along in that extrovert that adopted the introvert kind of way since he was friends with hollyberry already)

-lily gives pv ridiculous little nicknames that she calls him one of these is nini. she couldn't come up with any good ones for cacao so she played of of pvs and calls him cici she apologizes all the time for not being able to come up with a more creative one

-pv wrote love letters to lily and cacao while they were in school he somehow managed to get them to the two without them seeing him. although cacao very easily figured out who was sending the letters just by listening to pv talk for a little while. lily is a little oblivious (a little being a lot) and just. didn't put two and two together

-lily is very bad at drawing but she loves it and pv draws with her sometimes (he is even worse than her because his eyesight? terrible)

uhh i know i have more but this is all i can remember right now <//3 thank you for letting me share

While I don't personally think that all of the ancients went to the magical academy together (since it's an academy that specializes in magic, and I don't think that every single one of them are knowledgeable about magic and how it works), I won't lie and say that it isn't a neat concept for an AU. (And I may or may not have come up with little animatics in my head revolving a few Mean Girls musical songs and Cookie Run Kingdom characters. Dark Enchantress is Regina. But I digress.)

Anyway I love poetic Dark Cacao who has a hard time with expressing his emotions but an easier time figuring them out through written words. He can take his time with it, and while it probably takes him hours to write out a simple poem, I like the idea of him appreciating that he could... take his time with it. Maybe it even helped him process how to speak his mind more when he became a king. Love that positive reinforcement.

Also love Pure Vanilla playing with others' hair I love that to death. Headcanon that Pure Vanilla has restless hands that feel like they need to do something at all times. And whenever he doesn't have anything else to do, his hands fidget with his stave, which is usually enough in that moment.

Anyway super sweet headcanons they deserve to hold each others' hands

[astriefer]

Please have this messy, badly written scenario as a humble gift to you, because I wanted to do something since I reached 200 followers!

Bits of Truth

They stood in front of the Carstairs' townhouse in Cornwall Gardens. Christopher seemed mildly confused about what they were doing there as if he had not been paying attention. James shared one last glance with Thomas before he knocked on the door.

A few bits of silence flew by, in which they had held their breaths. Then footsteps tapped on the floor, and the door cracked open.

A wave of relief passed through James that not Sona nor Risa or any other maid came to open the door. Then he thought what a peculiar thought it was for him to be relieved by. Alastair looked at them, frozen in place, blinking a few times as if he didn't believe they were truly there. He rejoined his composure hastily. He didn't let them in - he stood in the front door and his eyes searched theirs for an explanation. It was like a weird staring contest. Eventually, Alastair spoke first. "Cordelia is not here. You know it fairly well."

He moved to close the door. "We haven't come for Cordelia," he said quickly, which received another incredulous glance from Alastair. "Well, we have. But not because we thought she'd show up here. We came to talk to you."

Alastair narrowed his eyes, expressionless, and considered James. Then he glanced at Christopher and Thomas, noting their desperate eyes. "About my sister?"

"We won't take long," promised James, despite he wasn't sure it's true. Alastair studied him, and James felt himself going rigid. He leveled Alastair with his indecipherable gaze.

Then Alastair had stepped back from the door and ushered them in. "My mother is in her bedroom, resting, and Risa went shopping for supper. So, you have to be quiet. Make it quick.'

~~~~

Alastair took their coats and tilted his head towered the parlor. A kettle whiselted in the kitchen. As he gestured them inside he turned the other way. A fire burned in the chimney, and a book rested peacefully on the armchair. When James examined closer he discovered it was written in Persian. Thomas mumbled something about Persian poetry.

Alastair came inside with a tray and James thought he was, for a change, being hospitable, but he ignored them and disappeared up the stairs. When he got back, empty-handed, James assumed the tea was for his mother. Alastair placed the book on the table as he sat down in front of them. Thomas and Christopher set on a love sofa and James set stoned on another armchair. He didn't waste time being the kind host, James presumed. "What it is about my sister?"

The golden-eyed boy decided the best tactic was started from what he knew. That wasn't much, but it was the most important thing, and he was certain about it, at the very least. "I love your sister."

Alastair raised his eyebrows, amused. "Yes, that's something that tends to happen between married couples, I've been told."

James shook his head. "This marriage, of Cordelia and I," just saying her name on his lips made a treacherous skip of his heartbeat, full of hurt and love. "It was a sham marriage."

Alastair pools of dark marble were fixed on James when he explained, rather awkwardly, the events that led to their marriage. And then events that led to Cordelia leaving the country. He prospected Alastair would be outraged, throw spears at them, maybe even recite some very angry poetry phrases in Persian. Instead, Alastair was very still for very long. When he did speak, the words weren't the James expected them to be. "I knew the marriage wasn't out of love," Alastair said calmly. "But I didn't expect you to tell all that rubbish."

James blinked. "It's the truth."

"Oh, I know," Alastair returned with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I doubt you would come up with such a ludicrous idea on your own, even if just to spite me. and I also know Cordelia wouldn't have slept with you unwedded, no matter how much she loved you."

All the thieves caught their breath when Alastair leaned forward, his month curving in an odd angle. "I also know being married to you was a wish she never thought would come true, and that you cared for her. You claimed her as yours and you defended her. It was good for Cordelia, and so I said nothing."

James snorted, although he hadn't found the conversation funny. Not the least. "I thought I loved Grace at that time. I felt bad when the thought of living with Cordelia was more appealing than I expected." The thought of Grace made his features harden. "And because of Grace, for years I've been blind. Manipulated. I lost my wife and Parabatai. She played with me like a doll; messed with my feelings, messed with my life. This is unforgivable."

He did not notice Christopher who tensed up and fixed his spectacles on his nose. "She did some bad things," he said, surprising them all. "But I don't think she's evil."

James furrowed his brow. "She's like a siren: beautiful and compelling, but going after her will only end in you being drowned."

"I see," Alastair said, turning back to James. "But why? Why did she do it?"

"Does it matter?" James asked. "She hurt so many people. She doesn't even deserve to apologize. It won't matter anyhow - the damage is done. After all she has done...sorry will never be enough. Nothing will."

"It matters," Alastair said. "Because you don't know her side of the tale. You don't know what she thinks. What she feels. You don't know if she had to do what she did."

He was tempted to say Grace has no feelings at all. "I believe I'm allowed to be angry."

"I do agree that what she had done to you is far above a jest or a play with hearts," there was a strange flame burning in the deep ponds of Alastair's dark eyes. "And you have no obligation to forgive her. But why not hear what she has to say? You are the one with the power. You know the truth. She can not affect you any longer."

James shook his head. "You don't know Grace," he said coldly, gravely. "She will try to use me. She will try and make me do as she wishes. I will not be a pawn in her game again. She controlled my life long enough."

Alastair glanced away, pondering over something. Thomas turned his head nervously between James and Alastair. For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Thomas inquired, "Why do you insist James will hear her out?"

"You have no idea of her motives," Alastair retorted. "What she's done - she must know it's wrong. And she will have to live with this knowledge for the rest of her days. You are allowed to be angry, James, and rightfully so. But don't let it blind you. That you have been kept from certain kinds of evil doesn't mean everyone else had. You have no clue what led her to those decisions." Alastair looked distanced. James managed to guess he's not been talking only about Grace. "You should talk to her. You may not forgive her, but you deserve to understand, to know why to hear the plain truth. And you should let her mourn what she could have had and lost."

James wasn't sure he fully comprehended. "I wouldn't have loved her. Even without the bracelet issue - my heart belongs to Cordelia."

"What do you mean?" Christopher asked. "That not everyone had been kept from evil."

Alastair shrugged. "I met Tatiana Blackthorn only once. She's a madwoman. She doesn't seem like the kind of caring, kind mother to pet her daughter's shoulder. Besides, Grace seemed to be controlled by Tatiana, rather than working alone or alongside her."

"She took the love of my life away from me," James growled. "Nothing can atone for that."

"The love of your life is my sister," he reminded James. "I can hardly find the idea of her being heartbroken a good thing. And the one who caused this pain is not much liked, as well. But you shouldn't think that just because you would've done it otherwise, it was an option for her. You can't know what are the options in front of people. You can't know how they feel unless you talk to them. So talk to Grace, James. Then seek out my sister. If you love her like you claim you do, will you give up on her so easily?"

"No," James stood up, "I will not."

Alastair nodded. "why did you come and tell me about your little schemes? Why now?"

Now, after so much time of lying, why tell the truth? Why not keep it in its cage of delicately made lies?

James cut his gaze to the book on the table. Thomas answered instead in a quiet voice. "She is your sister. You must have been worried about her. We wanted to tell you because - because you deserve to know the truth and understand why things happened the way they did."

What Thomas did not say was what none of them wanted to admit. Cordelia ran away to Paris with Matthew. Even if she'll be back in only two weeks - they all were worried sick. James couldn't blame her, he was awful and blind. All of this was a mess. If she needed time to calm down in Paris, he couldn't deny it of her, even if he had a say in this choice.

Alastair studied Thomas, and James felt the half-Persian hadn't quite believed them. It was true - they needed his help in the future. But it was a start. "Anything else? A ghost friend? Another evil aunt?"

"No," Christopher affirmed.

"Good," Alastair said. James might have imagined it but he thought he saw Alastair sneak a glance at Thomas before standing up. "Now get out of my house. Risa will be here any minute."

~~~~

I- how?? Thank you so much, everyone!! 🙈 Thank you, you can't understand how much it means to me. 🥺

This is mind-blowing. Truly. For whatever reason you follow me, know that I love you <3

Tagging some of my mutuals, you are all wonderful and make my time here so much better (not all of them because my brain is all wonky, but I mean all of you): @kit-12 @littlx-songbxrd @pink-party-dino @shadowhuntertrash @gummybears-4u @itsdaughterofthemoon @mcrrythievcs @fictionally-fantastic @reyna-herondale I'll tag more but I don't want to bother anyone so... thank you!! I don't know what people find in my blog, but I am grateful, and I appreciate all of you endlessly.