#charlestair

[lightstairs1902]

SHADOWHUNTERS COUPLES AS TAROT CARDS

CHARLESTAIR

Charles Alastair

Seven of swords represent: manipulation, lies, cheating, abuse, irritation

On this card you can see this man is looking back bc he is trying to get away with something. Swords represent mind so you can interpret it as getting away with gaslighting. As we know he is gaslighting 24/7. He is also manipulating Alastair and just trying to get away with the marriages but also keeping Alastair at the same time.

THIS CARD SCREAMS CHARLES

Eight of swords represent anxiety, being silenced, psychological issues, feeling trapped in situation

You can see that that woman has blindfold on which signifies being blind to reality, but this blindfold can fall if this person wants it. I think feeling trapped in situation is saying a lot. He is kinda silenced by what Charles wants and he is not standing up for himself. Not seeing the reality that this situation is not serving him but also being controlled by Charles thinking that's how it should be.

Reversed 8 of swords is about relief, leaving this situation, standing up and finding solutions

As we saw at the end of CoG

In tsc deck you have them as Jessamine and Nate which suits them as well but in this deck you don't have tlh only 3 or 4 cards in 78 cards deck Alastair is not there

[lifewouldbebetteronmars]

!!!PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THE TAGS!!!

Title from no body, no crime by Taylor Swift

Angstmas Days of Summer Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I Think He Did It But I Just Can’t Prove It

It had been two years now, since the day Thomas had died. He was murdered, if you asked Alastair, but everyone, including law enforcement, said it had been an accident.

An accident my arse. Alastair thought to himself as he studied his “murder board”-as Cordelia called it-for what had to be the thousandth time. Most people would have given up by now, with two years having passed and no evidence to the contrary that the death had been anything but accidental.

But not Alastair Carstairs. He would never give up. Not until justice had been served.

And if he had to serve justice for Thomas himself, then so be it.

He’d done so much on his anyway, how could this be any different?

Two years ago, the love of his life had been killed, his waterlogged body found in the Thames. An accidental drowning. The toxicology report said he’d been drinking heavily that night, so heavily that he must have fallen off of the bridge and into the river. A complete accident.

It was an answer that everyone else believed and accepted. Thomas’s friends, his family, everybody. Everyone but Alastair. He knew it wasn’t an accident, it had been murder. He even knew who had done it.

Charles Fairchild. His ex-boyfriend.

He certainly had the motive and the means to kill Thomas, to even make it look like an accident.

He was a jealous man, a possessive man. He hadn’t liked the fact that Alastair had moved on and he had made sure everyone around him had known that fact.

Everyone knew how much Charles hated Thomas, yet they called him paranoid when he even suggested the possibility that Charles may have had something to do with Thomas’s death.

Charles may have been a bad boyfriend, Alastair, but he’s not a murderer. Cordelia had assured him, the first time he had brought the idea up to her.

Charles would never hurt Thomas. He’s my brother. Matthew had said, getting angry when Alastair kept trying to push the point.

Alastair, dear, we miss Thomas just as much as you do, but blaming Charles for it isn’t the way to grief him. Thomas’s own parents had said that to him. Alastair couldn’t even give them a response to that, he just simply left with no explanation.

And now he hadn’t talked to any of them for months.

They all acted as if Alastair just couldn’t accept Thomas’s death, like he just couldn’t grieve and his way of coping was to not accept that Thomas’s death was an accident.

But they were wrong. Because Alastair wished more than anything to believe it was an accident. But so much just hadn’t added up. And he couldn’t ignore that.

The toxicology report, for one, Thomas hadn’t been drinking that night. He’d been at home all night and he’d had one beer, but that was earlier in the evening with the rest of the Merry Thieves. He couldn’t have been that drunk from one beer that he’d had hours earlier.

The two of them had even gone to bed early.

Alastair hadn’t known where Thomas had gone when he woke up in the morning to the sound of his doorbell ringing and an officer there to let him know that Thomas’s body had been found in the Thames.

They’d gone to bed at 10:30 P.M. and Thomas’s body was found around 6 A.M. the next morning, he’d been dead at least three hours, putting his time of death around 3 A.M.

That in itself left Alastair with four hours of time where Thomas couldn’t be accounted for.

Charles didn’t even have a solid alibi for that night. He said he’d been at home sleeping, something no one could prove but believed anyway.

And even besides the toxicology report, what had Thomas been doing at the Thames anyway?

The police’s theory had been that Thomas and Alastair must have had a fight that night and Thomas had gone out to go cool off, possibly to go drinking at a bar close to the bridge.

But Alastair knew he and Thomas hadn’t fought that evening. Everything had been calm, they’d been happy, nothing had happened.

So why had he been at the Thames?

And what about Thomas’s phone records? Which had been mysteriously wiped clean. Police said he was probably doing an internet purge, something his friends had backed up.

But that wasn’t even Alastair’s biggest question: what about the stalking?

Thomas had reported some instances of stalking to the police in the months before his death.

His tires were slashed. Four different times.

He was mailed photos of himself with his head cut off.

Threatening text messages, phone calls coming from unknown numbers, it all seemed to add up to a stalker.

He’d taken his claims to the police only for them to be brushed off. And they were brushed off yet again when his body had been found.

Thomas had been sure he knew who is stalker was, the same person Alastair knew Thomas’s killer was.

Charles Fairchild. Thomas had figured it out after the last pictures were mailed to him. They were intimate pictures of himself and Thomas, doing things they wouldn’t want anyone else to see.

There were messages written on the pictures this time, calling them both slurs and derogatory names. Alastair had never seen Thomas as angry as he had been when he saw the picture calling Alastair a slut.

Alastair had recognized the handwriting on the photos, the same handwriting he had spent years staring at.

That was how he had known it was Charles. There was no one who would really go after them, and their relationship, as harshly as Charles would.

No one had been as jealous of their relationship as Charles had.

No one hated Thomas as much as Charles did, whether he was Matthew’s childhood friend or not.

No one wanted to hurt Alastair like Charles did, like he had during their relationship with his words and his bruises.

No one would have targeted Thomas, he didn’t have any enemies, except for Charles.

No one had the motive Charles did.

It all circled back to Charles and no one else could see it, but Alastair could.

He looked to the photo of Charles pinned to his “murder board” and scowled. It was covered in pins and red string, connecting it to all of the other evidence.

“You did this, Charles, and I know it.” he spoke directly to the picture, even though he knew it couldn’t hear him or even respond back.

“Nobody may believe me right now, but one day, I’ll prove it. Just you wait.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So do you guys think Charles actually did it or is Alastair really grasping at straws here?

Let me know in the comments!!!

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

@tessherongraystairs @petalsofaflower-shutupthomas @wagner-fell @littlx-songbxrd

[laylax13s]

I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!!!

I'm back to writing!! A new fanfiction is coming (the last hours + Alastair is the mc), it will be pretty depressing and disturbing I may as well warn you. I am not sure about if I should put it into mature or explicit category though, could you help me out?

Contains: r*pe, SA, @bus3, @busive relationships, multiple serious mental conditions, @dd!ct!ons, dr\/gs

[sheisbeautyweareworldass]

i said i want thomastair serving the hurt/comfort trope, not that i want thomas imagining charlestair hurt/comfort trope. c‘mon 🧍‍♀️

[tessherongraystairs]

Is it a bad time to mention that my next angst fic is titled after Memories-

And it’s a Charlestair fic

OH NOOOOOOOOOO

[iloveallmyocs]

Alliance

Tw: outing, toxic relationship mention, after affects of toxic relationship (?), alcoholism mention, physical abuse implications.

I feel like my matthew is out of character, lets just pretend this takes place in an au where he doesn’t out Kamala to Cordy.

also since this has some triggering topics, pls feel free to call me out/give me shit if I didn’t handle it well. srsly. do it. That’s how I will learn and improve.

also I tagged every. single. one. of you! (it took like 20 minutes)

Don't look at him, Alastair told himself. Just look straight ahead. Yes, keep going. Breathe.

"Al- Mr Carstairs!" Called out a voice.

Alastair rolled his eyes before turning around.

What did Charles want this time?

"What?" He snapped, before looking around to check if there were any curious onlookers.

The two of them were alone outside the London institute, everyone else was on the inside attending what Alastair was certain to be the twentieth party they held that year.

"My mother told me something about you. I didn't believe what she said at first, I thought she was joking-" answered Charles. He burst out laughing before he could finish his sentence.

"She wasn't joking. It's true" confirmed Alastair, much to Charles' horror.

"She said that you expressed interest in running for the position of Counsul!" Said Charles, raking his hands through his hair.

"I am of age and I have been studying for it for a while now" shrugged Alastair.

"But- you can't just do that! You know how much I've wanted it! You're just trying to take the one thing I've ever wanted from me out of spite!". Charles' face almost turned to the colour of his hair.

"I'm not taking it away from you" said Alastair, his tone even although his hands had began to shake from being in such proximity to Charles. "I'm only competing for the same position. It's more likely that you'll win anyway, you know you have an advantage over me". He didn’t use the word ‘nepotism’ only because he didn’t want to escalate things further.

Charles opened his mouth to speak but closed it again because he believed him. "And I'm not doing it out of spite. I'm doing it because I have wanted to do it for quite some time. I've wanted it even before we met, actually"

Charles let out a frustrated noise. Closing his hands into fists, he stepped closer to Alastair. As if out of reflex, Alastair shuddered and took two steps away from him. 

All of a sudden, witchlight from inside the institute spilled on the ground between the two boys' shoes.

The door had opened, and Matthew fairchild stood in the doorway, looking thoroughly bored.

"Mother sent me here to check up on you two. Charles, we could hear your noise from inside the room. Stop fighting and come back inside or take your fight elsewhere. Although, mother probably would prefer it if you did the former"

Charles instantly regained his composure, but Alastair caught Matthew noticing his brother's distressed expression.

"Is something wrong?" asked Matthew, no longer bored. His eyes were on Charles, and didn't take them away to look at Alastair.

"It's none of your business" snapped Alastair. The last thing he wanted at that moment was to draw attention to himself.

Matthew's eyes met his. "If it involves you, then I don't see why I shouldn't be involved as well"

"Matthew, Listen to Mr Carstairs" said Charles.

Matthew set his jaw. "No. What do you have to say to him that you cannot say to your own brother?"

"It's about politics, it'll bore you" said Alastair, hoping he could reason with the younger Fairchild.

"Don't worry, it won't"

Charles stepped up. "Fine. Mr Carstairs and I were having a disagreement because he is running for Counsul. He knows-"

Charles stopped talking immediately, and looked at Alastair with a cruel expression on his face. It felt oddly familiar.

Charles stepped closer to Alastair and spoke in a low voice so that his brother couldn't hear him. "Tell my mother that you've lost interest in being Counsul or I'll tell my brother right now. About us. And he is very fond of gossiping"

Alastair tried to keep a level head. "But that would mean that word about you would get out as well”

Charles laughed without humour. “Do you think that will matter to me after losing the one thing that I care about? Alastair, please try to look at this from my perspective”

Alastair softened. “I- Charles, I think we both know know for a fact that you will be the one who will be elected Counsul. I just-" he broke off, not finding the right words.

"What is it that that two two of you are discussing so intently? I'm still waiting, you know" said Matthew, stepping closer to the two of them.

"it's nothing" dismissed Alastair, who decided to head back inside the institute as it was less likely for Charles to pursue him when there where others nearby. He didn't turn back to look at Charles as he entered.

“Alastair and I once had an understanding” Charles blurted out.

Alastair whipped his head back and looked at Charles with widened eyes and then at Matthew. Why did it suddenly became so hard for him to breathe?

Alastair didn’t know how he expected him to react, but what he knew that the way he actually reacted wasn’t it.

Matthew threw his head back and burst out laughing. Was he drunk? From his years of taking care of his father, Alastair was sure that Matthew was sober. Maybe he had lost his mind.

“I’m sorry,” said Matthew, trying to recover from his laughing spell. “but that’s just absurd. How did-” he broke off once again and resumed his laughter.

Charles let out an exasperated sigh. “It began around two years ago. A year later the two of us spent some time together in Paris during his travel year”

Matthew’s smile faded upon noticing the look on Alastair’s face. “You’re being serious”

“But it doesn’t make sense. Wasn’t he seventeen two years ago? And you twenty-three?” he continued. He looked at Alastair and added, “did the two of you ever-”, he shook his head, disgusted. “I don’t want to know. But Charles, he is six years younger than you! And he was not an adult yet!”

Heat crept up Alastair’s face. “I don’t require you to stand up for me” he said to Matthew. “I can do that myself just fine. I’ve been doing it for quite a while”

He turned to Charles and glowered. “Every time I think you have an ounce of decency left in you, I am proven wrong. You want to know what I was thinking when you told your brother about us?”

Charles opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Alastair.

“That wasn’t an invitation for you to speak. At first, I was terrified. Terrified of what would happen when people heard about it. Then, I was relieved, because that was the only way in which you could have power over me and now there that it’s out, you have no hold on me. You’re a spineless, pathetic creature, you know that? Now that you’ve told your brother about us, I can say things like this, which I have been saying behind your back, to your face”

From the corner of his eye, he could see a grin slowly spreading across Matthew’s face. He ignored it and went on.

“Lastly, I was angry. Not at you, but at myself. I don’t know what mental state I was in to fall for you. Back then, I thought that was how love was supposed to make you feel. Now that I have someone else who actually loves me as much as I love him, I realise how wrong I was”

Charles’ left eye twitched a little as he clenched his jaw shut. His hands were fisted inside his coat.

“I am going to stand for Counsul” said Alastair, “and I am going to win. Do what you must to prevent it”

With that, he headed out the gate, after having ultimately decided to walk to his house instead of going back to the party. He kept his head high and didn’t bother looking back at Charles or Matthew.

He didn’t turn around even after hearing the sound of footsteps behind him, he was beyond caring about anything at that point. He held up a single finger, it should’ve been enough to shoo Charles away.

“I didn’t expect you to be familiar with the rude gestures of the Americans” remarked Matthew. “I thought you to be too proper for it”

“You’re the one coming from a prestigious family” returned Alastair, relieved to find Matthew behind him instead of his brother.

“Listen,” said Matthew, his expression solemn, “I don’t know- this is a bit hard for me to say, but I was hoping we could put our past in the Academy behind us”

“I did move past it, you’re the one who kept holding on to it” 

Matthew looked like he had something important to say, but instead just laughed. “This doesn’t mean I am going to start being polite to you all of a sudden. It’s just- people like us need to look out for each other. And I know this is none of my business, I’m only asking because I’m curious and feel the need to protect others like us, so would you mind telling me who it is that you are seeing now? I think I might know him, I know a lot of-”

“Thank you” said Alastair, “and as for the second bit; It’s none of your business”. He tried to hide his smile and fought the urge to add ‘and you do know him’

no one: me doing research for this fic: when was flipping the bird invented?

ahh hope everyone liked it and its not disappointing pls I need to go sleep after this but I won’t bc my country’s education system sucks. I’m tried so pls lmk if there’s a grammar/punctuation/spelling error.

 Tagging all who interacted with that post where I asked if anyone would want to be tagged in this :

@shadowhunting-hooligans @one-fond-mortal @shadowrunner2000 @writeordie-4 @shadowrunner2000 @blackxstairs @lynx-the-treemoss @chaotic-coexistence @thatonebookbitch @doitfor-buckaroo @nicotheangel17 @paulightwood @thechangeling @magnusthefreewheelingbisexual @thestarkster1465 @marzzinaa @a-contented-soul @melanielocke @lovednotrusted @sohalia01 @rznrl @life-through-the-eyes-of @thelastpowers @susufromfinland @pansexualagenderdragon @mariiaarranz @freddyollie @afunkygoodtime @moodymelanist @choisan15 @proofthatshithappend @dreamers-understandtheuniverse @gemmimared @deep-fried-brain-cells @readwithlivvy @frankensteinsdreamhouse @spotsandclawsthings @noxatlas @bookishperfection @jxmesfarrow @theblackthornn @bladesandconstellations @evilsam16 @shadowgays2006 @kiara-herondale @supnafasmbls @lonelybookworm1 @youwerealwaysmysecret @right-where-you-left-me-ts @crying-is-your-latest-fashion @hhvxy99 @aurasobsessionwithtsc @punk-with-trauma @shadowhunterstrashworld @tessa-blackfriar @fortheloveofthecarstairs @nevergonnagiveyouuporlety-oudown @lowkeywannakermit @miss-riddikulus @shadownefelim @charliepants @patalliumapples @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer 

[shadowhuntertrash]

It hurts to love someone who stopped loving you. He knows from experience. 

He knew from all the times he’d dropped everything because Charles ‘needed’ him and how whenever he needed Charles he was ‘busy’.

He knew from the way Charles wouldn’t look at him in front of ‘important people’ even though he never took his eyes off of Charles for that very same reason.

He knew from the way Charles worshipped his body but rejected the color of his skin in the presence of anyone else.

He knew from the way Charles was his everything and he was nothing but a dirty little secret meant to stay in the backroom in the middle of the night where no one could see him.

He knew from the way a part of him died when he realized it was one-sided and Charles seemed perfectly fine and unaffected.

It hurts when someone stops loving you but it hurts even more when you realize it was never love.

[melanielocke]

Illicit Affairs

A while ago I wrote a fic about Alastair’s relationship with Charles and posted it on AO3 (titled Tolerate it there) 

The original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31293734

I rewrote it because some of the details were wrong and some parts I didn’t like anymore, so I’m posting the new one here. 

CW: toxic relationship, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), some of which sort of pressured (Since Alastair is a minor, it definitely cannot be considered consensual), mentions of alcoholism

It had been a long time since Alastair had visited the Paris Institute. Last time must have been the Herondale party when he was fourteen. It was a magnificent building, often said to be second only to the London Institute, and the second largest in Europe. He would be staying here for a year, away from his family. He’d pressed his parents about it for months. They’d thought he was too young for a travel year at sixteen, but after speaking of it with his mother he’d been allowed to go. Alastair guessed she felt sorry for him, being trapped at home again, and had decided he deserved a break.

Paris would be a chance to start over, or at least he hoped so. He’d thought the same of Shadowhunter Academy though, and what a disaster that had been… He didn’t quite dare hope here would be better, but he did know Charles Fairchild would be here and the few times they’d met he’d been very kind to him. Alastair had met him here, ironically, at the Herondale’s party when he was fourteen. Alastair had been so eager to impress powerful people, and Charles had seemed very impressed with his manners and his knowledge on shadowhunter politics. They’d started writing each other letters, and Charles had become Alastair’s first real friend. He certainly didn’t consider any of the boys from school his friends.

About a year ago Charles had sent him a copy of Machiavelli’s the Prince, which had become his favorite book. And recently Charles had informed him that he would move to Paris for a year to replace the head of the Institute, and had suggested he come there for his travel year. He was a bit young, that was true, but being so isolated wasn’t good for his progress and even his parents couldn’t deny that spending time with the consul’s eldest son was good for their family’s social standing.

He entered, carrying his bags with him. He’d tried to pack lightly, but Risa and his mother had added all kinds of things over the past week and now it was still heavy even for a trained shadowhunter to carry on his own.

‘You must be Mr. Carstairs,’ a woman said.

Judging from her dress and lack of runes, Alastair guessed she must be one of the mundane servants here.

‘That’s right,’ he said.

‘I’m Madeleine,’ she said, ‘I’m a maid here. Come, I’ll show you to your room.’

He followed the servant woman to a bedroom, where Alastair dropped his bags. Madeleine left him there to unpack, and Alastair took his time. He hated mess, and preferred it when everything had its proper place. He’d packed a few of his favorite daggers, and took them out, looking carefully for a proper place for them.

After a while he noticed someone was standing in the doorway. Familiar red hair, styled carefully, and dressed in a stylish grey suit. Charles Fairchild. He didn’t look much like his younger brother, and although everyone was always fussing about Matthew’s looks, Alastair preferred Charles’ serious face, the way he dressed like someone powerful instead of like a clown.

‘Look at you, all grown up,’ Charles said. ‘It’s been a while, Alastair. I’m glad to see you arrived.’

Alastair hadn’t seen Charles in person in over a year. He still looked very handsome, and Alastair was glad he was here. Everything was better than being home around his father.  

‘I’m glad to see you too,’ Alastair said. ‘Congratulations on making interim head of the institute.’

‘Thanks. It is a great opportunity for me. I feel like every shadowhunter politician should have some experience at an institute. Growing up in Idris leaves one a bit sheltered from the harsh realities of Shadowhunter life, I’m afraid.’

Alastair wondered where his childhood fit in. He certainly hadn’t grown up somewhere safe and sheltered, but if it made him a better Shadowhunter he had no idea.

‘That’s why many shadowhunters take a travel year, don’t we?’ Alastair said.

‘Exactly. I lived in London myself before coming here, although of course that is where my family is from and demonic activity there is exceptionally low. Come, I’ll show you around the institute. I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks myself, but I have figured out the lay out.’

Charles showed him around, leading him to the main hall where most of the meetings were held.

‘You’re not yet old enough to be in enclave meetings, are you?’ Charles asked.

‘I will turn seventeen in a month,’ Alastair said. ‘So no, not yet.’

‘Shame, I think you would do well. Of course, I will give you permission to come and watch. That way, you’ll still learn plenty.’

Did Charles really think he would do well?

‘You’re very mature for your age,’ Charles continued. ‘Nothing like my brother. I can’t believe you’re only sixteen.’

Alastair did not want to discuss Charles’ younger brother, but was flattered Charles thought he was mature. Of course, he had to be, since he’d had to take care of his father from a young age. Being young and immature was a luxury Alastair did not have, unlike Matthew Fairchild.

‘I think I would like to watch enclave meetings,’ Alastair said.

Charles showed him to the training rooms next, and asked him about his preference for weapons and Alastair told him about his spears.

‘Spears, huh? I thought I saw you with daggers in your room.’

‘Those are decorative, mostly. I collect them. But I always carry at least one spear with me when I go outside, you never know when something might happen.’

Alastair remembered the vetis demon Clive Cartwright had released all these years ago at the academy. How he’d been too scared to tell his “friends” how he felt about the prank, that it was a terrible idea. He’d gone along anyway, thinking that if he was there at least he had some control of the situation. Then Clive had died, and perhaps Alastair could have saved him, had he carried his spears. He’d never left them behind again.

‘Seems a bit unpractical,’ Charles said. ‘How do you even carry a spear?’

‘Not at all. You see, these can be folded, so I can comfortably carry them underneath my suit. And they allow me to fight demons from a bit more distance.’

Alastair hated it when he got covered in blood, ichor, and other bits of demon parts, but fortunately that didn’t happen as often anymore. He still hated the way he looked after a fight though, with his hair all over the place and his clothes messy, but it was better than being covered in blood. He always put great effort into his appearance. With people constantly judging him for how he looked, he couldn’t afford to be seen with even a hair out of place.

‘Would you like to show me a bit? I’ve never trained with spears myself, nor seen anyone else do it. It’s a bit of an unconventional weapon after all.’

Alastair hesitated, and then unfolded one of his spears from underneath his suit. He’d still been carrying it even when there was no need inside. He guessed he’d forgotten to take it off, that’s how comfortable they were underneath his clothes. It was convenient now though, since he didn’t see any spears in the training room. He didn’t feel like changing into gear just for a demonstration, that would come later during training, but he did step into the training room. It was much bigger than what he was used to at home.

Alastair threw the spear, hitting a target about as far away as he could hit from here, hoping it would impress Charles.

‘I usually carry more than one spear, so I can throw them as well without ever being left unarmed.’

‘Clever,’ Charles said. ‘I’ve mostly trained with swords myself. Of course, I do spend most of my time on Shadowhunter politics and there’s much I can teach you about that. And maybe someday you can teach me how to use a spear.’

Alastair suspected Charles wasn’t much of a fighter, but he didn’t mind. At least he didn’t have to worry about someone who spent most of his time writing letters and arguing with older shadowhunters. Charles was very unlikely to get hurt somehow, which allowed Alastair to let down his guard a bit.

During his first few weeks in Paris he continued to spend much time with Charles, the older man showing him around and telling him everything about his work, how to run an institute, and the experience he had helping his mother with her work as Consul.

‘Have you considered a career in politics yourself, Alastair? Maybe head an institute someday, or even become Inquisitor.’

Alastair had not, but he was intrigued. ‘I’d probably not do such a great job. I’m not great at getting people to like me.’

At the academy some people had liked him, of course. His “friends” who’d found his witty insults hilarious. And little Thomas Lightwood, who had followed him around for some reason. Alastair had always found his presence a bit uncomfortable, the way Thomas had seemed to see right through him. Yet at the same time, being adored did feel nice.

Most of the time he tended to antagonize people, keep them at a distance. It was safer that way, people who were scared of him would not hurt him.

Charles put his hand on his shoulder. Alastair knew it was only supposed to be friendly, but it didn’t feel that way. It sent a shiver down his spine and Alastair desperately hoped Charles hadn’t noticed. He didn’t want to know what Charles would think of him if he knew how Alastair really felt about him.

‘You don’t have to worry about getting people to like you,’ Charles said. ‘Not when you can make them owe you.’

Alastair wasn’t quite sure what Charles meant, but it sounded promising. He could make people owe him. And perhaps with Charles’ help, he could make his way up in the Clave, and escape the shame his father had brought to the Carstairs name.

He also knew none of that was likely to happen. He knew that if people discovered what he really was, he’d lose everything. He’d bring more shame to his family than his father did, which Alastair thought was completely unfair.

‘I like that,’ Alastair said. ‘I can work with that.’

‘Sure you can. But if it’s any consolation, I like you.’

At that, Alastair smiled.

The evening before Alastair’s seventeenth birthday, he discovered a note in his room.

Come to my bedroom at midnight. Make sure no one sees you.

C.F.

 Alastair wasn’t sure why Charles would want to see him in his bedroom, but he was also curious. He liked Charles in a way he hadn’t often liked people. Sure, there had been men he found attractive, but he felt like he connected to Charles. The older man seemed to understand him in a way no one else could, and was always willing to give him advice and teach him about shadowhunter politics. He had no idea, however, if Charles was like him. He would think it unlikely. Charles was a respectable man, a powerful man. Charles would be consul one day. But Alastair guessed powerful men had their secrets too, and why else would Charles invite him to his bedroom?

Alastair decided to go. He used his stealth to get through the institute unseen, something he had been good at for some time. When he was young, he’d always made sure no one discovered him before he found his father passed out somewhere. He knew even then what could happen if the wrong people found him alone on the streets at night.

No one was up at this hour, but he made sure to be quiet and not wake anyone. He found his way to Charles’s room, and quietly knocked on the door. For a moment he worried he might have gotten the wrong room and someone would be asking what he was doing here at this hour, but Charles opened the door, and rushed him inside, closing the door behind them.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d come.’

‘You asked me to.’

‘I did. Come, sit.’

Alastair sat down in the armchair. ‘Why did you want to see me at this hour?’

‘You seem like a man of many secrets, Alastair,’ Charles said.

Alastair couldn’t deny that exactly. Between his father and his romantic feelings for Charles, he had plenty of secrets.

‘You might not have realized,’ Charles continued. ‘But I have a secret of my own. Something that I’ve had to hide. I haven’t told a soul.’

Alastair tilted his head. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘I wanted you to know my secret, because I’ve suspected for some time that your secret is similar. And I couldn’t risk anyone else finding out, so now is the best time.’  

‘What sort of secret?’ Alastair asked, trying to sound more innocent than he was.

He suspected what Charles meant, but he wasn’t about to reveal that in case he was wrong.

Charles took in a deep breath, and Alastair could tell he found it difficult to share, even now. ‘I like men,’ he said. ‘I’ve known for several years, but I’ve never been able to tell anyone. But I’ve noticed the way you look at me… The way you respond when I touch you. I thought you should know that… that you aren’t alone.’

Alastair was left speechless for a moment. Even if he’d suspected, hearing Charles say it out loud was different. He’d known he liked men for several years, but he’d never told anyone and had never met another man he knew was like him. And Charles was a man he was definitely attracted to.

‘You’re right,’ Alastair said after an uncomfortable silence. ‘I do like men. And I like you.’

Charles took his hand, brushing over it with his thumb. ‘Can I kiss you?’

‘Please,’ Alastair said, a bit overwhelmed from everything.

Charles leant over and kissed him, gentle at first, then a bit firmer. Alastair had never been kissed before, had never considered it possible, and certainly not with someone like Charles Fairchild. He’d never imagined Charles might be like him, and even then that he would want this with him.

They broke apart. ‘I presume you understand, Alastair, that no one can know,’ Charles said. ‘We would both be ruined, if people found out. But if we’re careful, we can be together.’

Alastair was fine with that. He wasn’t ready for anyone to know about him liking men and wasn’t sure he would ever be ready.

‘I won’t tell,’ Alastair promised. It wasn’t like he had anyone to tell.

Charles didn’t say anything and kissed him again, hungrier this time. Demanding. He dragged him to the bed. Alastair wasn’t sure what was happening, but it felt good. He’d never thought someone could love him, but Charles did. He was a bit scared of rushing it, it was all so new. Charles began to remove his clothes and Alastair allowed it, still not sure what was going to happen. 

When they were finished, Alastair tried to find a comfortable position next to Charles.

‘Happy birthday, Alastair,’ he said, kissing him again. ‘But you do have to leave.’

‘Can’t I… Can’t I sleep here?’

‘I wish you could, but it would be suspicious if people saw you leaving my bedroom. At this hour, no one would see you leave. I’ll see you tomorrow. I have a gift for you.’

Alastair was a bit disappointed he couldn’t stay any longer, but he quickly dressed himself and sneaked back to his own bedroom. He slept well for a change. He could still feel Charles’ lips, his hands exploring him.

The next morning, Charles did indeed have a gift for him. ‘I realized how important your dagger collection was to you,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you have one of these yet. It’s called a poignard, and was popular in France during the renaissance.’

Alastair smiled as he took a look at it. He didn’t have a dagger like this one, that was true. He’d wanted one for a while, but hadn’t gotten around to buying it.

‘Thank you, it’s beautiful. It’s true that these were popular in western Europe for a while, but they were also the primary weapon of the army of the Savafid empire in Persia during the 16th and 17th century.’

‘Oh, I did not know that,’ Charles said.  

He spent much of the next months sneaking his way in and out of Charles’ bedroom at night. Hiding an affair was exciting, of course, and Alastair loved the thrill of it, but it was also difficult. When they saw each other during the day, Alastair had to fight to keep a neutral face, to hide any signs of affection. But at night he could be with Charles, comfortable for a while until he had to leave his room without being seen. With Charles he could let his guard down in a way he’d never done before. And he gave Charles everything he had, everything he could give. The other man could be demanding, and Alastair did not want to disappoint. He wanted to be enough for him, to be able to give him all he needed.

After a few months, Charles mentioned the topic of marriage when they were alone at night.

‘When I return to London, it is very likely I will enter an engagement with miss Ariadne Bridgestock. She’s the daughter of the Inquisitor, and such an alliance could prove quite useful.’

Alastair felt his heart sank. ‘But I thought…’ He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. I thought you loved me, he wanted to say.

‘It will likely be a temporary engagement,’ Charles said, taking his hand. ‘I do not care for her as I do for you, you know that. But to be allied to the Bridgestock family will certainly help me be elected Consul when my mother’s term ends and maybe then we could truly be together.’

Alastair’s eyes went wide. ‘Do you really think that’s possible?’

‘Perhaps. But I would not mind if you chose to marry. I would still want to be with you.’

Alastair determinedly shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I know I could never love a woman like I love you, and I’d never want to deceive someone of my love.’

‘Not all women mind,’ Charles said. ‘But I understand.’

Alastair was not so sure he did. But he didn’t like fighting with Charles and his lover had the gift to make him forget about whatever he was angry about as soon as they were in his bed together.

There were times when he did worry about the state of their relationship. When Charles decided he couldn’t accompany him when he wanted to see the city, claiming they couldn’t be seen together. Working together wasn’t an issue, nor was Charles teaching him about politics, but they certainly couldn’t go see the city together. And especially when Charles again brought up the topic of marriage, this time suggesting it would be good for both of them if Alastair got engaged.

‘I’m not going to change my mind on this, Charles,’ he said. ‘I do not want to be married to someone I do not love.’

‘And what will you do when your parents ask why you refuse to get married?’

‘I’ll figure something out. Besides, since we move around so much we barely meet other shadowhunters. It’ll be easy enough to convince them I simply haven’t met anyone I like.’

Alastair dreaded going back to his parents, away from Charles and from Paris and from everything that made him feel safe. But he also missed his mother and sister and regretted not being there to protect them. He wanted to mend the bond with Cordelia, but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t tell her the truth about their father, and he certainly couldn’t tell her about Charles.

Charles paused. ‘You are very young. You still have plenty of time to find someone. But at some point you will be expected to marry. It could become very difficult to get ahead if you refuse. And what would your parents think, when you show no interest in women or marriage whatsoever?’

‘I guess so. But plenty of people marry for reasons other than love. My parents did, although they did fall in love over time. You’ll understand when you’re older.’

Alastair felt uncomfortable when Charles said that. His lover considered him a child still. Hadn’t he complimented him on how mature he was? Yet Charles often did not take him seriously, as if he was too young to understand. He often commented that he would understand things better when he was older. He was old enough to sleep with Charles though. He couldn’t make sense of it. So he did the best he could to please Charles, to show him he was mature and that he did understand. But when they differed of opinion, Charles always dismissed his ideas. That was fine though, he would be an adult soon enough and then Charles would have to take him seriously.

Except when Alastair arrived in London, nothing much seemed to change. Alastair attended every enclave meeting, now old enough to speak there himself, and did the best he could to have valuable input in these meetings, but Charles rarely listened. He preferred the sound of his own voice, even in the emergency they were in, which Charles wasn’t handling well at all. Just let me help you, he wanted to say. Just admit you cannot do this and you need me.

Not to mention here he was confronted with the presence of miss Ariadne Bridgestock, Charles’ fiancée. Alastair didn’t resent miss Bridgestock, he didn’t know her very well but he understood that as an adopted Indian woman, she was in no position to refuse to marry Charles. But he wanted Charles all to himself, to be the first thing on his mind, he didn’t want him to get married. He guessed that was not possible for someone like him. They’d always have to keep up appearances. He’d always have to be a secret.

Charles wasn’t there when Alastair needed him either. He was busy with his work, or with his fiancée who was ill and unlikely to wake up anytime soon, when Alastair just needed someone to talk to, someone to hold him. He had no one but Charles, no one he could confide in. He loved his sister, but he needed to protect her, not burden her with his struggles. Nor did he think she’d understand how he felt about Charles and he did not think he could take that rejection. He knew Layla was frustrated by his distance, but what else was he supposed to do?

So instead he was alone in his bedroom, after Charles had told him he didn’t have time to talk, to be more careful and not speak to him like that in public. Charles had promised he would come see him late in the evening, and he would just have to hold on until then. He knew Cordelia was spending more and more time with James Herondale and although he didn’t hate them as much as he pretended he did, he didn’t trust them either. They were so reckless, running towards danger and dragging Cordelia with them. Just like Charles, Herondale and his friends had no idea what they were up against and vastly overestimated their abilities to solve the situation, and one of these days Cordelia would get hurt because of it. And what would happen when his father was convicted? When Cordelia would inevitably find out the truth? Alastair didn’t want her to know, but at the same time he could barely stomach how she tried to rescue him as if he was some sort of hero.

Alastair cried for most of the day. His mother and Risa had gotten used to him locking himself in his bedroom by now and had left him, Risa only knocking once to announce she’d made tea. He hated crying, he hated being vulnerable like this and having to hide, but sometimes he couldn’t do it anymore. The anger had faded away and all that was left was emptiness. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was crying over, the way Cordelia kept putting herself in danger, the state of his relationship, his father. Plenty of options. It happened more and more frequently that he collapsed when he was sure no one would see, and Charles was never there to help him through it. He guessed he was expecting too much. But if Charles asked for him, told him he needed him, he would be there, always, no matter how inconvenient. Because he loved Charles.  

He’d calmed a bit when it was time for dinner, and when everyone else had gone to bed, Charles did come for him. Alastair didn’t feel like arguing again, and instead accepted that even if it was a bit late, at least Charles was here now. He drew a soundless rune on the door, just in case someone would wake up and hear them.

‘Have you been crying?’ Charles asked.

To anyone else, he would have denied it. But Charles he trusted, even if his lover was not careful with his feelings at all. ‘A little,’ he said.

‘It is unbecoming for a man to cry,’ Charles said. ‘You’ll learn, in time, to deal with your emotions better.’

‘Perhaps I would have if you had actually made time for me when I needed you,’ Alastair bit back.

‘You know I was busy,’ Charles said. ‘Really, Alastair, I thought you were past this.’

He didn’t dare say anything else on the topic. He wasn’t sure he could take Charles’ dismissal. Charles was right, of course, he was too old to cry, had been for a long time, but what else was he supposed to do? The longer he held it in, the worse it got, and as long as no one actually saw him when he cried, it was alright.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you came.’

‘I am too. I missed you.’

Alastair wished Charles would stay with him, but as always he left when they were finished. It made sense, of course, Charles wouldn’t be able to explain sleeping over at the Carstairs house without anyone suspecting. Still, he wished he wasn’t alone. So he cried again, even if Charles had said it was unbecoming. No one would hear him. No one would know just how broken he was. He’d considered leaving Charles, but who was he kidding, Charles was all he had. He didn’t know how he’d survive without him.

When Cordelia came to talk to him about Charles, Alastair panicked. He was relieved to hear she still accepted him, but how could she have eavesdropped on his private conversations? That hurt the most, knowing that even if she claimed to love him, she didn’t trust him. He knew she hadn’t meant to find out he liked men this way, but she’d followed him because she’d expected him to reveal secrets he’d promised to keep. He remembered how she’d called Charles cruel. How he’d defended Charles’ actions to her, claiming he wasn’t cruel, how everything he did was so they could be together.

Charles said that all the time, but Alastair wasn’t sure he believed it anymore. It seemed more like everything Charles did was to further his career, and sometimes Alastair felt like an afterthought. Or perhaps someone Charles could satisfy his physical needs with, only tolerating that Alastair loved him with everything he had. They usually met to have sex, after all, but there could be much more to being with someone. Like how he’d taken Thomas to a museum, had walked along the Seine with him… Charles didn’t want any of that. The longer he thought about it, the more sick he felt. He still went to see Charles, even if he was disgusted by what he’d done to miss Bridgestock, how he’d abandoned her when she was in coma and replaced her with miss Grace Blackthorn. Even if he wasn’t sure he still liked it when Charles touched him.

Perhaps Cordelia was right, perhaps he should leave him. Charles wasn’t going to be what Alastair needed. And then there was Thomas Lightwood… Thomas, who’d grown up to be tall and strong, but also brave and kind and heroic. Someone Alastair didn’t deserve for sure. But perhaps he could have another chance. Perhaps he could leave Charles.

He looked at his dagger collection, one of the few things that brought him comfort anymore. It felt like there was one stuck inside of him, had been for years. Removing it would hurt, but it was the only way to survive. Having made up his mind, Alastair began to write a letter. He remembered how Alastair had refused Thomas entry into his house, refused to let him make the antidote. How Thomas had insisted that he did know what he was doing. Thomas was a hero. Charles had almost ruined the antidote, and Alastair wasn’t even sure he would have minded. If miss Bridgestock had died, no one would be able to contradict his story of breaking off the engagement before she’d fallen ill.

He knew it wasn’t the best way to break it off, that he should face Charles, but he wasn’t sure he could. He knew how well Charles manipulated him, making him forget his worries with soothing words and kisses. He couldn’t face him, but hopefully if Charles read his letter, he’d know to leave him alone. He was done with this half love, and even if he would end up alone it would be better than whatever he was to Charles. He deserved better.

[bemtevis]

charles and Alastair as if I'm being honest by Anna Clendening

...just listen to it okay

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

gave away my trust for pennies

this fic is dedicated to the lovely @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas. happy birthday bestie!

this fic is a continuation of the latest snippet. as a warning, this got a bit darker than I intended. I see this fic as an escalation of how I've written Charles' behavior in the past, and he is undoubtedly Bad in this fic. A lot of it is told from Alastair's perspective as the one being abused. Please be safe! It does have a positive/hopeful ending.

content warnings: toxic relationship, emotional abuse, gaslighting, physical abuse, coerced sex

the fic title is from the song tears of gold by faouzia!

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Alastair was a bit surprised when it was not Charles who opened the door. In Paris, he was always very careful that he was the one to greet him.

Christopher grinned at him. “Oh, hullo, Alastair, you must be here to see Charles. I think he’s upstairs in his study.” In the few days that Alastair had frequented the Fairchild home last summer, Christopher had been a bit too distracted, or dying, to be around much, but over the past week, they’d become a bit more acquainted. At first, Alastair was worried about Christopher knowing, about him figuring out what he and Charles were, but Charles insisted he was too oblivious to notice. Alastair was doubtful that was the case, but he suspected that Kit just did not care. He seemed far more interested in Alastair’s love of history and his affinity for mathematics than whatever he and Charles were doing behind closed doors.

Alastair nodded and hung his coat beside the door. “Thank you, Christopher. How have you been?”

“I’m quite well, actually. I’m making great progress on that fire-message technology I was telling you about. Your advice was very helpful. In fact, it would be incredible if you had a few minutes and could come down to the lab and help me and Tom.”

Alastair felt the wind knock out of him at the mention of Thomas’ name. Of course he was here. It made sense; he was Christopher’s cousin. He knew from last summer that he typically spent quite a bit of time with him in the lab. And yet the idea of him here, in this house, just downstairs, was disorienting.

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to follow Christopher downstairs and avoid Thomas’ gaze and forget that there was anyone who actually lived in this house. He doubted that Charles would like that much, though. “Sorry, but I’m already running late. Perhaps next time.”

Christopher smiled politely and returned to the lab as Alastair made his way to Charles’ study. He knocked on the door gently before letting himself in.

Charles looked up in surprise. “Alastair! What are you doing here?”

Alastair ignored the pit of disappointment that fell through him. “I told you I was coming over today.”

He smiled warmly, in the way that always seemed to make Alastair’s worries melt away. “Of course. I- I must have lost track of the time.”

“What are you working on?”

“Oh, it’s just… Well, I’ve been trying to do more research on everything that happened… I just can’t get rid of this idea that it isn’t really over.”

In the week since Charles had nearly died, and he’d been plagued by nightmares ever since. He insisted that he was fine and rejected Alastair’s offers to stay with him as he slept, but he seemed to spend every waking moment going through the details of each case. Alastair understood, he was the same way, he needed knowledge to feel in control of the situation. For some reason, his father’s murder was the exception to the rule, but if it was to help Charles, he would do anything. “Perhaps I could help?” he asked.

“I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not; I’m offering. I’ve done some research of my own, you know, of similar patterns of crime. Even before you were hurt and before my- before Elias died, I had been researching Shadowworld and mundane crimes, in hopes that I could find something that would help.”

Charles laughed dismissively. “And how exactly would that help?”

Alastair gritted his teeth. “I don’t know, Charles. Perhaps it would make more sense if I explained.”

He scoffed. “Why do you always have to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Act so passive aggressive. I was only asking a question! Go ahead, explain.”

“No, you were right, it’s silly, forget I said anything.”

“I never said that, Alastair. Don’t put words in my mouth. I don’t understand why you came here just to pick a fight with me. You know how difficult it’s been for me since I was attacked.”

Alastair wanted to scream. He wanted to demand to know why he seemed to be hurting so badly but scoffed at any attempt he made to help. He wanted to go through the stack of papers in front of Charles and pull out the sheet that described Alastair’s father’s dead body and tell him that he wasn’t the only one losing sleep over what happened. He wanted to demand to know why Charles changed the subject every time he tried to talk about Elias, even before he died. Especially before he died. He wanted to laugh and cry and ask him how it was so easy for Charles to make him feel this bad.

Alastair didn’t scream. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t cry. He simply sat down. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be here if you would like any help or want to take a break.” It was easier this way.

He took out the book he was reading and they continued in silence for a long while.

“Would you like something to eat?” Charles asked after a couple of hours had passed. “We could get something from the kitchen.”

Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t eaten in a while. He often forgot to eat when he was busy or upset or got lost in a good book, which were the three moods he typically cycled through, much to Risa’s dismay. “That sounds nice.”

When they arrived in the kitchen, it seemed as though Thomas and Christopher had the same idea.

“Oh!” Christopher exclaimed. “I was just about to come and tell you there’s food ready.”

Charles didn’t say anything in response, only picked up two plates and began serving them food.

“How are the fire-messages coming?” Alastair asked, attempting to make polite conversation.

“They still seem to be spontaneously combusting on occasion, but we’re working on it.”

“It’s nice that you and Charles are friends again,” Thomas commented with the most innocent face he could muster. “I know how close you were in Paris.”

Charles dropped the fork he was holding and it hit the table with a clatter. He turned sharply and left the room.

Alastair felt panic wash over him. “Yeah,” he said softly, quickly finishing gathering their dinner and returning upstairs, none of them saying a word more until he was gone.

He brought the food to the study, but Charles wasn’t there. He put the plates down and left to find him. He spotted him from the corridor and froze. He was so angry. He charged towards him, but Alastair couldn’t move. Charles grabbed his arm tight enough to make him flinch and pulled him back towards the study.

“Let go of me!” Alastair said, but Charles only held him tighter.

When they got back to the study, Charles slammed the door so hard it made Alastair jump, and before he could get his balance back, Charles shoved him into the wall. He reached out to steady himself, accidentally knocking over a small vase on a nearby shelf. He flinched at the sound. Had Christopher and Thomas heard? This wasn’t a townhouse, though. This was a large manor, though smaller than Cirenworth, but he could remember many nights his father threw liquor bottles at the wall behind him while Cordelia slept peacefully a wing away.

“What in Raziel’s name was that about, Alastair? Did you tell him?”

“What? Of course not! I would never!”

“If you didn’t, then how does he know?”

“He doesn’t know anything! He said we were friends, Charles! Everyone knows that we were friends in Paris!”

“That’s not what he meant and you know it.”

“Charles, please, I didn’t say anything to him, I promise,” Alastair begged. He tried to conceal how frightened he was.

“It must have been your sister, then. Raziel, I told you you couldn’t trust her! This is all your fault!” He turned away, running his fingers through his hair in distress.

“I’m sorry,” Alastair said before he could stop himself. He needed to calm him down. “If he does know, he won’t tell anyone. None of them will. It’ll be okay, no one will find out. We’ll just be a bit more careful. It’ll be alright.”

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Charles refused to make eye contact.

“No- No, of course it’s not. I don’t want anything you don’t want. I was idealistic, hopeful for the future, but - Charles, I’m a Persian man from a disgraced family, I’m enough of an outcast already, you know this. I don’t want our affair to be discovered any more than you do.” I just want you to look at me.

“Promise me. Promise me, Alastair, you won’t talk to Thomas anymore. He already knows too much. Promise me you won’t tell your sister we’re seeing each other again,” he demanded.

Alastair hated it when Charles told him what to do, and was historically not very committed to keeping these promises, but perhaps this was one he felt he could answer honestly. “I promise. I promise, Charles, I won’t.”

After a long period of silence, Charles finally spoke, “Alright. You’re right.” He looked at the broken vase on the ground and shook his head. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry, you just showed up so unexpectedly, and then Thomas- and you know how stressed I’ve been recently. I didn’t mean to get so angry with you. It will never happen again.”

“It’s alright,” Alastair assured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “I know, it’s alright. Maybe you should try to get some rest, darling. I’ll clean this up.”

Charles nodded and left for his bedroom.

Alastair picked up the larger pieces of the vase and swept the rest up in a few papers, like muscle memory from his childhood. He couldn’t shake the guilt that came to him so easily these days, sticking like layers of paint coloring his body and soul. He couldn’t stop replaying the image of Charles leaving, still not looking at him, clearly so upset.

With the vase picked up, he scanned the room. Their food sat cold and uneaten. He considered bringing the plates down for someone to clean them, but he couldn’t bear the possibility of running into Christopher or Thomas again. It would be someone else’s problem tomorrow. He turned off the lights and blew out the couple of candles Charles still liked to keep and headed towards the bedroom.

When he got there, Charles was waiting for him. He pulled Alastair close and kissed him deeply. They continued for several minutes until Charles reached to undo Alastair’s belt.

Alastair caught Charles’ hand in his. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said softly.

Charles frowned. “Please, please, Alastair, I want you. I need this.”

Charles’ hand was a paintbrush, covering him in another layer of guilt, and he knew that Charles would get his way. “I don’t-”

“Please, I need a distraction. You need to make it up to me, for earlier.”

Alastair swallowed and resigned. “Alright.”

***

When Alastair woke in Charles’ bed, it was still night. Charles was shaking him. “Alastair, you need to go. Before anyone sees you.”

Charles’ bed was so warm, and the night was so cold. “I could stay a little longer.”

“No, you need to go before anyone notices. Please don’t test me tonight.” Charles’ voice was so cold, so harsh, it chilled Alastair’s blood while making his heart race.

“Okay, okay,” he told him while hurrying to redress himself. He hesitated as he left. “Sweet dreams, ātashé del-am.” Fire of my heart. Charles didn’t respond.

Alastair raced into the night, nearly forgetting his glamour rune, trying to steady his heart and mind. He stopped at a small park near the Fairchild home and sat down on a bench, trying to push the prior night out of his mind.

***

By the time Thomas finally left the lab, it was late into the night. He hadn’t intended to stay so long, but they’d lost track of time. Christopher was staying in the guest room, but since everything that happened, Thomas’ parents worried if he wasn’t back home by morning.

He wasn’t quite ready to go home yet, though. He went the long way around.

The park was empty, as it usually was at this hour, but one person sat on a bench, looking down into his shaking hands. Even in the dark, he thought he recognized that silhouette. “Alastair?”

He put his hands down to stop them from shaking. “Leave me alone.” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been crying.

“You’re upset. Did something happen?” He sat down beside him.

“Yes, Thomas. I spent a single night with someone and he can’t seem to leave it in the bloody past!”

“I- Do you mean what I said earlier? I didn’t mean anything-”

“Bullshit, Thomas. Your silly little letter before the Townsend’s musicale didn’t mean anything, either, did it? You wanted me to feel guilty.”

Thomas bit his lip. Of course, Alastair has always seen through him. Always. “Fine. Fine, yes, you’re right, of course you’re right, I’m sorry. I wanted you to feel guilty because you broke my heart, you walked away from me and directly towards another man, and it still hurts. I still miss you as much as I did that very first night. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, all the while, you’re with him, and I hate it. How did you move on so easily? Did I mean so little?” Thomas could feel his heart breaking, just as it did, over and over.

“No- I- I don’t know. I don’t-” He put his head in his hands, repeating one phrase over and over, like a mantra. Nemidanam. I don’t know.

“Alastair,” he said, and he reached for Alastair’s arm, trying to get him to look up at him, but when he touched him, he tensed, as if in pain. It was brief, but it was there. “Are you hurt?”

He felt so stupid for feeling so jealous, for not seeing what was right in front of him.

***

Alastair tried to shake off the pain when Thomas touched him, but he must have not been fast enough. He hadn’t even realized that Charles had grabbed him that hard.

“Are you hurt?”

He felt panic rising in his chest. “What? No, why would you think that?”

“You just flinched.”

“Maybe because you grabbed me!”

“I didn’t- Just let me see, please.” He pulled his witchlight out.

He should just tell Thomas to piss off and quit harassing him, he knew, but instead he reached for his sleeve. He doubted there would be much of anything there, anyways. His skin rarely bruised. When he pulled his sleeve back though, he could see in the witchlight what he couldn’t while getting dressed in Charles’ dark bedroom: the dark discoloration wrapping around his lower arm. He pulled his sleeve back down just as quickly, not daring to look at Thomas.

“Alastair, did he- did he do that?” His voice was a pained whisper.

Alastair spoke slowly. “I didn’t… He didn’t mean… It was… He’s never… He’d never… I shouldn't've… He’s just… He said… This was…” I didn’t realize that was there. He didn’t mean to hurt me. It was an accident. He’s never hurt me before. He’d never hurt me intentionally. I shouldn’t have instigated him. He’s just going through a hard time. He said it wouldn’t happen again. This was my fault. All of the words got caught in his throat. And then he started to laugh.

He laughed, and he said, finally, “My whole life, I’ve been terrified of becoming my father. I thought it was inevitable, and so I never thought too hard about all of the times Risa said, ‘Esfandiyar, to khili shabieh mahdarat hasti.’” You’re too much like your mother. As his mother had once defended Elias, he now defended Charles. He always thought that turning into his father was his worst nightmare, but now he could feel all the resentment he’d held for his mother, for her refusing to leave, even when he hurt them. Perhaps there was more than one nightmare, after all.

“You don’t have to be,” Thomas said softly. “You can change the story; you can change the ending.” He’d forgotten that he spoke Persian. “Please, tell me what I can do to help.”

He didn’t want help. He didn’t want to think about any of this. He wanted to be someone else, anyone else, anywhere else. He looked up at Thomas and pulled him into a kiss.

Thomas pulled away immediately. Of course he did. Why would he want him now? He didn’t know why he’d done that. The guilt was a wave now, crashing over him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I- We can’t do this right now, Alastair. You were right; it’s not the right time.”

“I believe I told you that we would never work, actually.”

“Maybe. I don’t- I don’t know. Maybe we won’t. Maybe we’ll be better as friends than lovers. All I know is that this is not the time for us to find out.”

“Friends?”

“It seems like you’re missing a few.”

“And how would your other friends feel about that?”

“My other friends can mind their own bloody business. They don’t control me or my life or who I choose to spend my time with. I care about you, Alastair, I really do,” his voice broke as he spoke. “I want you to be happy. I want you to be safe. I don’t want anyone to hurt you, which I know is hypocritical because I have, too - me and my friends. And don’t tell me it was deserved, because we both know that it went beyond just what happened when we were schoolboys.”

Alastair’s voice shook. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Thomas.”

“Tell me you’ll be my friend.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll try.”

Thomas pulled out his stele. “May I?”

Alastair pulled his sleeve back up, past the bruise. Thomas’ touch was gentle as he traced the healing rune. It was a welcome difference from the night before. They both watched as the majority of the mark disappeared.

He pulled his sleeve back down as Thomas asked, “What are you going to do now?”

“I should probably go home,” he said lightly. “After, I don’t know… In the past, Charles hasn’t taken too happily to me leaving him.” He thought for a moment. “It’s ironic, you know, what you said. About me walking away from you and towards him. Because when I left him, I walked directly to you.” His voice barely more than a whisper.

“The engagement party,” Thomas realized. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry, too. I wish there was a world where we could have just been together, where I wasn’t… who I am, where it wouldn’t have been so messy.”

Thomas’ fingers brushed up against his cheek as he pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. “I don’t mind, Alastair. I never anticipated this being easy. It’s not something you ever need to apologize for. Will you let me walk you home?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. You spent more than enough time making sure that I got home safe.”

Alastair sighed but agreed.

They walked in silence for the most part, and when they did speak, Charles was never mentioned. It almost felt normal. When they arrived at his door, Thomas took his hand and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“Do you do that to all of your friends?” he teased. Even in the dark, he could see the blush rise to Thomas’ cheeks. “Good night, Thomas,” he said, letting himself in.

“Sweet dreams, Alastair.”

Thanks so much for reading! I know that got a little dark, but I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought!

Taglist: @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @awayfrmhome @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial  @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @thefoxandthefound @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in  @fortheloveofthecarstairs @life-through-the-eyes-of @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @hidethebreakables @shadowhunting-hooligans @melanielocke  @kiwichaeng @lightwoodsimp  @yozinha-z @ipromiseiwillwrite @skirtsandsweaters @goodoldfashionednerd @wagnerthedragon @americann-idiot @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas @jianming @jxmesfarrow

[littlx-songbxrd]

Wait for me

Chapter i

"The ones who load the dice always say the toss is fair" - if its true

Tw. Toxic ex, manipulation

If Alastair had known the events that would transpire as a result of him opening the door before him, maybe he would have put his pride aside and gone home. Maybe it would have all turned out different, maybe in some universe he did, and his dreams wouldn't be filled with dark corridors and never ending halls. But Alastair didn't know that now, so with one last vote of confidence he opened the door into Charles' office.

Charles's expression should've been enough for him to regret walking in. Alastair attempted to arrange his expression into something firmer and more convincing as he approached the desk. He had always had the ability to mask his emotions well, but he was still getting used to doing so in Charles' presence. For the longest time he had been the one person who Alastair had thought was able to see him, truly see him. It had been long since Alastair had seen him that way, or at least so he told himself as such. He wondered if someday he'd stop looking into Charles' stern expression and feel his confidence begin to wither. If Charles stared he'd stop feeling like he was 16 again.

Alastair straightened his posture before he spoke. "And to what do I have the pleasure of being summoned by the internim consul himself?"

Charles glanced over the Clave papers, his expression formal, not betraying a hint of emotion. Maybe that's where I learned it, he thought bitterly.

“I need you for a patrol mission,” Charles said, dropping his gaze into favor of his paperwork.

“You mean the suicide mission I was notified of this morning? Take me off the patrol.”

Charles finally glanced up at him, taking what Alastair believed was the first real look at him since he'd gotten into his office. "Pardon me?"

"Im asking you to take me off that mission, I never signed up for anything as such so I'd like to be taken off"

Charles' eyes narrowed. "But it says here you volunteered to go inspect the abnormal demon energy that has been recorded in this region."

He then put down the paperwork so Alastair could see a map of London with an area that seemed to be abandoned marked in ink.

"I am telling you that has been a mistake, I never agreed to any of this and shall not be the one to endanger myself because someone might have made a mistake"

Charles sighed, bringing his hand up to his temple. “Alastair I don't have time for this.”

Alastair felt his nails digging into his palms. “I am not lying. Find another, it should be that hard consul.”

“I should've grown used to this I suppose.” Charles's gaze was challenging and demeaning all at once. “You never did like to leave the safety of your own shell.”

“What?” Alastair hated the way his voice dipped to a hoarse whisper. He wasn't a fool, he knew what Charles was playing at, but knowing that didn't diminish the uncomfortable prickling sensation spreading across his skin.

"I'm just stating the truth Alastair" He said, as he turned away from him and continued to organize some papers into folders. "The only fool here is me, believing this time would be different."

His nails dug deeper into his skin .

"I don't think you should be addressing me by my first name" he let out carefully, watching Charles roll his eyes without even looking at him "I also dont think its your place to say anything about my private life."

"It is my place when it makes you refuse to do the mandate you were born to carry out."

Alastair tried to keep himself from crumbling at his words "I already told you I never signed up for this mission."

Charles gave out a humorless laugh, one that brought enough memories Alastair tried not to get hung up in. "You know, admitting you're scared won't kill you."

“Fear of such stupid endeavors could also be stated as common sense.” But Alastair could feel his resolve crumbling, turning to dust the way it always did when Charles would turn his words against him.

Charles flicked his hand dismissively. “You go on then. Clearly I made a mistake thinking you were mature enough to handle such a job, I'll send for a more capable Shadowhunter to replace you.”

Alastair only made it halfway through to the door before he broke. “Where is the patrol location?”

He could feel Charles's eyes on him, the quiet triumphant victory that he held on his head like a crown. It was sickening, but worse was that Alastair still craved it, still craved the way it would feel as if the scars on his heart momentarily stitched together. Only for a moment, his mind echoed.

Charles showed him the location on the map, which he allowed Alastair to take. Gave him some general of the mission but the words numbed in Alastair's ears. All he could think about was how much he wanted to wipe the smugness of Charles' expression, and how much he hated himself for finding comfort in its curves.

"I’d hold no grudge to you if you officially resigned from this operation" Charles mused, his words not the least comforting. "But you'd have to agree that you would be resigning, seeing as you were the one who volunteered in the first place, now that the story you seem to claim that it was the Clave’s mistake."

"And, I suppose, no one could blame you for stepping away" he went on, taking his eyes off Alastair and picking up a pen. "So much time trying to convince yourself a politician has of course had an influence on your fighting ability."

"Mr. Fairchild." he responded through gritted teeth "I already agreed to go."

And even if not looking at him, Charles smiled "Then I guess that's all we have to discuss."

"You can leave now Mr. Carstairs"

~~

Cordelia had decided that the notion of training was far more appealing than the act of it. Of course if anyone asked she'd proudly tell them that training was her greatest pleasure as a warrior and wielder of Cortana, but in truth her heart felt like it was going to burst. Leaning against the counter she tried to bring down her heart rate, twisting her dark hair back when the door slammed open.

Even without taking a look downstairs she knew it was her brother who had opened the door in such a state. Not that it was much to her credit, out of all the members of the Carstairs household Alastair had always had a taste for the dramatics. There was also the fact that it couldn't be anyone but him. Earlier that week her mother had been advised to stay in the silent city for the last part of her pregnancy, and in doing so, she took Risa with her. The siblings were the only current residents of the house

She caught her breath and went downstairs, curiosity creeping through her thoughts. Cordelia had known he had a meeting today, but she had expected him to get back later, much later than this. Has something happened? And scandals running through the institute's walls that caused Alastair to come back early?

Cordelia vaguely thought to herself she should not hope for such things. It was wrong, and frankly rude. But Cordelia couldn't help but want something interesting to happen, for weeks she had been locked in her house after leaving her fake marriage with James behind. They had covered their separation up under the excuse of James mind control by Grace Blackthorn's bracelet.

Cordelia and James had claimed they needed time to reevaluate their union now that James was in the right state of mind, thus Cordelia left for her family's home and James had gone to stay at the Institute with the Herondales. In reality there was very little to discuss, as Alastair had said unrequited love doesn't last forever. It wasn't until she took a step back from the blinding light that was loving James that she realized how much of herself she had given for someone who she couldn't even claim loved her. The last thing James needed after finding out about the bracelet was to have romance in his life, neither of them deserved to keep digging their grave in that marriage. When she was younger she thought maybe love was enough to conquer everything, but now she just thought maybe the person who has broken your heart so many times can't be the one to mend it

So here she was, after weeks of grief over her separation. Now certainly doing better, and certainly unmistakably bored enough to find her brother's business life interesting.

Though judging from the fury on his face, a business meeting wasn't what had caused his bad mood. Their doormat was covered in a flurry of white snow, even more flakes raining down when Alastair whipped his hat off and threw it against the coat stand. Cordelia watched with equal parts concern and amusement as he let his head fall back against the door, muttering a string of barely discernible curses. It's a good thing Maman isn't here to witness this, Cordelia thought dryly.

“Bad day with the enclave?” She asked, watching as her brother slid down to the floor and glared up at her.

“Disgusting. Absolutely repulsive.” He tossed his shoes into a corner and watched as it rained snow on the floor. “Horrible.”

“What happened?”

“Awful things. The world is an awful place. With awful people.”

Cordelia hummed in agreement, picking her way through the snow to sit opposite to him. “Anyone in particular? We have many adversaries.”

“I" have adversaries, you decide you hate them because they hate me.” Alastair groaned and sunk further into his coat.

“It's simply my way of offering support. Did something happen at the meeting?”

“No.”

Cordelia sighed, leaning back on her hands. “When we moved to London I kept a small box of memories from our childhood. In that box I have a little tea kettle that proved very useful for my younger self. Tell me what happened Alastair, or I will hit you over the head with my tea kettle.”

“You're horrendous at being threatening,” Alastair grumbled, pulling himself up into his usual perfect posture. “The meeting was with Charles.”

Well it seemed that Cordelia would have to get the teapot regardless. She didn't bother containing her rage when it came to Charles, he had done nothing to deserve her mercy. Not when he was the reason that Alastair suffered in silence for years, not when he had damaged her brother in a way she couldn't even begin to comprehend. Even now, months after Alastair had freed himself, Charles had a grip on him, he could deny that it affected him but she could see it the way his eyes were fractured between anger and despair in Charles's presence

"Why didn't you tell me the meeting was with him?" she asked, trying to not let the bitterness spill through her words "I could have at least gone with you, are you alright?"

"You know I'm quite capable of dealing with him myself" he countered, but his usual sharp edge seemed numbed by something Cordelia couldn't place. He looked at her as she raised an eyebrow and relented "Yes Layla I am perfectly fine."

"Someone who’s fine doesn’t come into this house cursing mere existence," she crossed her arms.

"Well not everyone is unlucky enough to have to deal with Charles Fairchild."

Cordelia agreed, giving him a quick nod. She understood how hard it could be to be stuck with someone you were having complicated feelings for, the want to get away from it at all cost. She herself had been avoiding James for the best part of the month, even when their split had been amicable and they had agreed to stay friends. She could never understand how Alastair managed to face someone who had done ten times the damage James had done to her without falling apart. It was a good enough reason for him to behave like this, but still Cordelia felt it wasn't quite just that.

"What was the meeting about?"

Alastair just shook his head, allowing his hair to shield his eyes. “Nothing important.”

Cordelia sighed, crossing the rug to sit next to him, folding her legs carefully. “Tell me what happened. Tell me anyway.”

“He assigned me to a different patrol team. That's it. Now will you permit me to go change into gear or will you insist on nagging me?”

“Oh I certainly plan to. I'll come with you.”

“No you will not.” His voice was flat.

“Why is that? I'm already dressed for it.” Unless there is a different reason you want me to stay behind, she thought, watching as Alastair’s dark eyes narrowed.

“And is there a reason you are suddenly enamoured by the idea of patrol?”

“How else am I meant to know why my brother is lying to me?”

“Layla.” He muttered, closing his eyes, annoyance evident in his words. “Leave me be.”

“Alastair,” she mocked gently. “You're more bothered than usual and you clearly are upset at whatever Charles assigned you to do.” She carefully wrapped her arm around his, squeezing his hand gently. “So let me help you.”

Let me help you the same way you've always helped me, she thought imploringly. Let me shoulder some of your burden as my own now.

Cordelia could feel his arm tense at her touch, but he didn't pull away, though his eyes remained closed. "Some things just can't be helped."

"Or so you have decided," she said with absolute certainty, "You do not have to face all your struggles alone, you have simply decided you needed to do so."

"I didn't decide this,” Alastair said, letting go of her hand and standing up. His words conveyed there was more to his answer than he let on.

"What didn't you decide," Cordelia pointed out, throwing her hand into the air "Alastair you can't keep shutting me out whenever you think you're strong enough to deal with things by yourself."

"I don't shut you out always" he carefully admitted, his voice now composed "But that doesn't mean you should know everything."

"Why not?" she crossed her hands.

"Because it's my life" he shouted back, but she could see the underlying meaning of his words. That is was his life that it was his struggles that it was his to solve. A few months ago Cordelia would have left it at that and simply retired to her room, feeling frustrated over the wall between her and her brother. But now, she knew ignoring it wouldn't do anything to fix it, she needed to smash it.

"And I'm your sister" she snapped "So I am forever going to be part of your life. I don't care if you think whatever bothers you is unimportant because it's important to me"

She stood up, meeting his eyes “So what is it? Was the meeting incredibly dreadful? Did you get assigned to a patrol team you do not like? Were you unable to get a pastry from the store you enjoy?" Cordelia knew her accusations were getting ridiculous, she didn't care.

He stayed quiet, lowering his gaze to the carpet on the floor.

"You promised we wouldn't lie to each other anymore," she reminded him, letting her hands fall.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke.

"I didn't decide to not accept your help Cordelia," he sighed "Charles did."

Cordelia felt her face heat and her body tense at his words. “What?”

“He enlisted me for a sucuide mission essentially. He wants me to patrol a highly populated demon area because sending more people would be considered a risk to the Clave. They thought wasting an entire patrol team would've been harmful so they took volunteers. And somehow my name ended up on the list despite me never signing up. Charles wouldn't hear it, he insisted I go.” He laughed bitterly. “and I agreed.”

Cordelia waited.

“I had wanted to say no.” He started, though Cordelia wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. “Charles-”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I believe you. You don't have to explain, you don't owe me an explanation.”

Alastair stepped back to lean against the staircases railing. His gaze lifted to meet hers, and it wasn't angry or furious like she was sure hers was. The same eyes, her mother would always say, and maybe that had been true for when they were young children, untouched by misery. Now while her eyes always burned with too much feeling, Alastair’s only held tiredness and sorrow.

“I don't understand Cordelia.” He said, his lashes lowering to veil his eyes. “You're able to face people that have wronged you with pride but I can only fall apart.”

Cordelia’s heart gave a sharp twist. Alastair’s hands tightened on the railing. Speaking the truth of what he felt always seemed to cost him, so many years of withholding everything led him to be untrusting of himself and others.

“I haven't experienced the world in the way you have.” She started quietly, struggling to piece together her words. “The sort of things you've had to suffer alone I can't even begin to comprehend. But you're still trying, your heart is still so full of love despite having been hurt by so many. If you think I'm stronger than you, you're a fool.”

She reached out to lightly push some of his hair back before wrapping her arms around him. Alastair stood frozen for a few moments before hugging her back, the snow on his jacket leaving pinpricks of cold water on her skin. Holding on tighter, she whispered. “You don't have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

She felt Alastair's head drop against her shoulder. “Okay.”

~~

A/N HEY GUYS

So @cant-think-of-anything and i had a conversation at 2am and may have accidently made an entire crack au we are endlessly attached too. Today we finally finished editing the first chapter! It was written by both of us sending text back and forth at hours no one should be awake in. This is the au I've been teasing in the edits i did here and here

Stay tuned for chapter two in tris account comming soon! We hope you guys enjoy it as much as we did writting it! Care to join us on the foad to hell?

If you have any questions feel free to come to either of our asks!

Tag list (ask to be added/ removed) @adoravel-fenomeno @thewarthatsavedmylife @eugeniaslongsword @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @foxglove-airmid @alice-got-the-blues @writeforjordelia @nott-the-best @icouldnotask @anarmorofwords @styxdrawings @stxr-thxif @shadowhuntertrash

@melanielocke

[lifewouldbebetteronmars]

Title from Vigilante Shit by Taylor Swift

Prompt - “I'm done. I'm done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.”

This fic might be a little OOC but trust the process

Angstmas Days of Summer Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You Did Some Bad Things, But I’m The Worst of Them

Thomas was glad to be back at Alastair’s flat after a night of being ignored at the party they had been too. It was the Herondales’ annual Christmas party and Alastair had basically ignored him the whole time, unless Charles was looking of course.

They’d been wallflowers all night, sticking along to the sidelines and barely talking to anyone else. Alastair generally ignoring his presence next to him.

Unless Charles was watching, then Alastair would be all over him. Arms around his waist, kisses on his neck, sweet smiles that he would give anything to see at another time. But it was all a show.

He knew Alastair was using him and for awhile, Thomas didn’t care.

But Thomas was tired of pretending.

He slumped down into a chair in the corner and put his head in his hands.

“Tom? Are you alright?” Alastair asked, coming to crouch next to him, a soft hand rubbing his shoulder.

“No.” he whispered, almost hoping Alastair wouldn’t hear. But he did.

“No? What’s wrong? Did you not have fun at the party?”

Thomas finally looked up, seeing Alastair looking at him with concern in his dark eyes. He knew Alastair cared about him, he just didn’t want him. “No, Alastair, I didn’t have fun being used all night to make your ex jealous.”

“Thomas, what-what are you talking about?” The other man sounded almost incredulous, as if he didn’t know what he’d been doing to Thomas for months now.

“You only started dating me to get back at Charles, am I right or am I wrong?”

The silence in the room was deafening.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m wrong.”

“I can’t.”

“Because I’m not, right?”

It was silent yet again, Alastair trying to look anywhere but Thomas but Thomas wouldn’t let him do that, he couldn’t hide away, not yet.

He gripped Alastair’s chin in his hand and forced him to look up at him. “I need you to look at me when I say this. Can you do that?” Alastair managed a small nod and Thomas continued. “I'm done. I'm done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.”

“So you want to break up?” Alastair’s voice sounded small.

“Is it really a breakup if one of us wasn’t really in it?” Thomas smiled, a tight, painful smile. “I really loved you, you know. I was so happy when you finally looked my way. But now, I wish you never had.”

With that, Thomas got up and left, leaving Alastair there on the floor with his thoughts, giving him no time to respond.

It wasn’t until he was halfway to his own flag that he felt his heart begin to break inside of his chest and tears start to roll down his cheeks.

He had really loved him, hadn’t he?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m really just proving Kat’s point with these fics at this point, Thomas suffers dead or alive ig

Tagging:

@tessherongraystairs @wagner-fell @petalsofaflower-shutupthomas @littlx-songbxrd @aliandtommy

[lucaonthropy]

Chain of Iron spoiler

Look, that scene with dying Charles calling out to Alastair? I know it's meant to be meaningful or smh but for me it's so fucking funny. Like, he was just there, desperately calling for Alastair while surrounded by some people that had bad blood with him except for Cordelia and James. Like, imagine how confusing it was from Matthew's pov. His big bro, dying, and said Alastair's name??? Out of all things??? Wtf???

[sheisbeautyweareworldass]

.

[anarmorofwords]

TLH as One day at a time gifs

(inspired by @foxglove-airmid doing a similar thing with Derry girls))

Thomas to Alastair in the Sanctuary:

CC making a huge deal of James suddenly speaking Persian when Thomas is right fucking there:

Lilith revealing herself at the end of chapter 25 like:

Cordelia eavesdropping on Charlestairs (jk jk this is a joke)

[the fandom]

Alastair after Cordelia complained she felt lonely at home without him:

Thomas watching his friend marry the girl he truly loves even though he insists he doesn't and did nothing to court her:

Thomas when Will asks him about "any more secrets":

Effie seeing James roped to the bed:

Lucie working with Arianna in ChoI:

[peppermint-cherry]

Just thinking...

Once the Clave finds out about Grace’s powers they are going to know that Charles did not technically want to end his engagement with Kamala...

If they were a conventional couple it would practically be assumed that they’d get back together, so the Inquisitor might as well expect or demand that the engagement is reinstated... Charles is way too invested in trying to fit in to really object to it but could Kamala really refuse it, given the time and context? I doubt it, at least not easily...

Also Charles new engagement to Grace was a huge part in the Charlestair breakup so he miiight try to win Alastair back.

Imagine the amount of extra drama for both Arianna and Thomastair...