#chog fanfic

[edwinspaynes]

slightly dumb character ask: do you think matthew ever slouched when he stood? if he did, do you think that starts to change post-chot?

(asking for a fanfic)

Definitely when he was drunk. Magnus notes that at the end of ChoG, he's only upright because he's slouching against the wall.

Now? I don't know. I think he would sometimes in that way everyone does, but I don't see him as a super slouchy person. He probably would alone or with close friends (James, Thomas, Cordelia, Alastair, Anna, Ari), but I think in public he's all like POSTURE. FOR THE AESTHETIC.

[gracecarstairss]

If there was anyone who would understand Grace’s actions it would be Jesse, because they lived in the same toxic household and when you live like that, you throw morality to the wind to just survive. He knew full well how manipulative Tatiana is and even stated it multiple times in ChoT, so you would think that he would be more understanding of why she did all those terrible things with her powers. He forgave Lucie for commanding him against his will in ChoG, why is it so different for someone who’s lived a HORRIBLE life and who has nothing just like Jesse. I’ve seriously been agonizing over the way their sibling relationship developed or, shall I say, the LACK of development. We needed a resolution to their issues if they were going to have discourse in the way they did, but we got nothing. My personal opinion is that a lot of the things Christopher said about empathy and not judging Grace for the terrible things she has done is more in line with Jesse’s character and his relationship with Grace, but Christopher needed more character development and a more strengthened friendship with Grace in order for his death to “matter” more because clearly the only one who cared about Christopher dying was Grace. I don’t understand why they BOTH couldn’t have empathy and care for her, but only Christopher could. Only one person is allowed to care about Grace, apparently. Like obviously Jesse would be rightfully angry about all the bad things Grace did but the way that he acted was definitely different than you would think based on his previous characterization and his and Grace’s shared trauma from Tatiana. The way that he was saying that they would get Grace a house in the middle of nowhere and basically banish her actually made me so upset. And the fact that Grace and Jesse don’t live together at the end? It’s like there’s such a rift in their relationship but honestly how would we know because we were given ZERO information. What about how Jesse talking to Rupert for the first time affected him? Oh wait, we never hear about the Rupert thing again! But that’s another rant for another day. I love Jesse and Grace, they only ever had each other (but from this book we barely see that) and I hate how we really didn’t see very much between them. Jesse would never choose living with Lucie over Grace in my opinion based off his characterization but whatever I guess ChoT was a glorified fanfic for everyone except for Grace, Jesse and Christopher UGHHHHH

[4uru]

Can arianna break up pls? Like damn these two give me heebejeebes, anna idolizing zeus, arati being lowkey obssessed at the begining, anna being anna, throw the whole relationship away.

In chog and choi, they had a fucked up relationahip, (i have points, but i dont have the energy to list them rn) but, in chot everything is brushed under the rug and they are all hunky dory again, NO FOR FUCKS SAKE LET IT DIE. Its like they are dragging a corpse of a relationship around honestly. I have complicated feelings about anna as a desi non binary person.

Just let it die, at least for now, let them grow and heal then figure it out, the relationship feels hollow and weird with them currently. It feels forced, there is no chemistry just feels like cc is telling us there is but like WHERE, BESTIE???

Also joshwood seems like a better ship, let #aratiheal2023

I dont like arianna bc i like joshwood mind u, i never felt good with arianna, joshwood was a nice change of pace in the fanfics.

[zoyalannister]

also was wondering what you think about the anna and thomas relationship because i think they could be great. and anna/kit and kit/thomas too! (sorry if youve answered this im p new to tumblr)

No worries, it happens that new people ask me stuff I answered already and it’s no big deal replying :)

I think that Anna and Kit is an underrated siblings relationship, and I wish it was explored more in canon since we have very few moments of them interacting. I love that they are protective of each other, and that Kit shows his "young Gabriel" side when he thinks that Alastair is going to say something homophobic about his sister in ChoG. I think it could have had a lot of potential because they have opposite personalities, and showing two siblings so different and yet who love each other deeply would have improved TLH by a lot.

As for Thomas, I hope you take no offense if I say that both ChoT and some Thomastair stans made me dislike him, so I don’t really have a particular opinion on his canon relationship with Kit and Anna.

However, I wrote my first long fic Exothermic much before ChoT came out, and I think there I wrote what I think should have been Thomas and Kit relationship: two best friends who trust each other and can confide their deepest secret knowing that the other would always have his back.

I hope this answer won't offend you :)

EDIT: I remembered that Thomas appears also in the first chapters of my fanfic How (not) to end a feud, and even though he has a minor role respect to Exothermic, he is still a good friend who supports Kit in his hardesr moments.

[imherongraystairstrash]

Herondales (fanfiction)

A/N: This is a fic about the good ol’ Herondale family. This is sort of like a continuation of the Anna and Christopher fic I made a while back (I’m thinking of doing a third one for Thomas), but you don’t have to read it to understand what scene in Chog I’m writing about. 

Will searched the fields for his children. He told himself that if he stopped walking, the meant he was giving up on his son and daughter. His eyes darted to and fro, but all he saw were ghosts. He didn’t look at the ghost’s faces. He wouldn’t let his mind wander into dark thoughts such as those. They were not dea—

He couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought.

Will shook his head and kept searching.

“We’ll find them.” Cecily said.

Will pressed his lips together and nodded curtly.

Cecily was worried enough about her own son, who was currently laying sick in the silent city, and it was endearing that despite all that, she was worried about Will. And yet, Will couldn’t bring himself to be thankful for that, not when just moments ago, Tessa and he were calling out their names, searching restlessly for James and Lucie, only to discover that neither of them were at the institute at all. That they hadn’t been seen in a long time.

Thomas had called them and said that he they said they would be at the Silent City. That didn’t reassure either of them, but a minuscule flicker of hope had caught ablaze, and they departed shortly after calling Cecily and Gabriel (they put Bridget to the task of calling the rest of the shadowhunter families in London), and putting on their gear.

But now, the wind was catching on the flame, threatening to put it out. Will shook his head again, clearing his thoughts.

They kept searching until Will found a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Papa!”

Will ran to the voice of his daughter. His vision tunneled and all that existed was Lucie, whom he was unsure if he’d ever see again. Lucie flung herself at him and he caught her into his arms holding her tight.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” she whispered.

It was like she was still a small child again, when all he had to worry about was her and James fighting.

“It’s okay, Lulu.” He kissed to top of her head. “It’s all going to be alright.”

She clung onto him.

“Are you angry at us?”

“Extremely. I might just ground you until you are fifty years old.”

Lucie giggled but didn’t pull away. Something about the way she spoke and clung on to him sent a wave of panic through him. He looked over her shoulder and saw Cordelia, Alastair and someone sitting against a tree that could only have been Jamie, from the way Tessa was caressing him.

“Where’s Matthew?”

“He’s distributing the antidote with Thomas.” She said softly.

Nobody had died. Perhaps Will had just imagined the tone Lucie’s carried. The same tone he’d heard so many times. The one people carried when someone dear to them had passed away recently.

James heard a thump as Tessa fell to her knees beside him.

“Oh, Jamie. My sweet Jamie.” Tessa sound exasperated. She pressed her warm hands against James’ cold face. It feels so nice to be loved, James thought. Tessa’s gray eyes looked like they were on the verge of tears.

“Don’t cry, mam.”

Tessa cried anyway. Tears rolled down her face. A face that never aged and never will. In a world where everything was changing, Tessa’s face remained a constant in his life.

“My poor little baby.” Tessa said, kissing James’ face.

She caressed him, her presence resembling that of a light. James was in his mother’s arms and nothing could hurt him. He closed his eyes and let Tessa rock him back and forth. He felt her kiss his forehead and fuss over his injuries, using some of her warlock magic to relieve his pain.  

He opened his eyes just in time to see Will drop down beside them. Lucie was being embraced by James’ aunt Cecily.

“Jamie bach,” Will said, his voice hoarse and eyes filled with terror, “Who did this to you?”

James closed his eyes, “Later.”

He didn’t want to tap into what he had witnessed. Not again.

Lucie kneed down beside them and Tessa hugged her tightly. Will put iratze runes on him and held him close.  

James let himself be loved by his family. When he closed his eyes, he didn’t see horrors anymore.

When they got to the institute (walking, since nobody had brought carriages), Will felt James shudder at the sight of the stairs.

“Do you think you can walk up them?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” James said as he leaned heavily against his father.

Will hated seeing his son suffer. He could see James trying to stay awake. Tessa had sent Matthew and Lucie to wash up as she got salve for Jamie. Will took one look at his son before he scooped him up in his arms, as though James were a small child.

“Papa—” James said.

“Shh, let me carry you, Jamie.”

James looked as though he was going to protest, but was too tired to open his mouth. His head lopped against his father’s chest as Will carried him up the steps. Even when there were no more steps to walk up, Will didn’t put him down. He carried him until they reached Jamie’s room. He was putting him down on his bed just as Tessa came in. She put down the salve and water she’d brought up with her and wrapped her arms around Will’s waist, putting her head on his shoulder.

“Our poor baby.”

“How did this happen, Tess?”

“I don’t know, Will.”

James woke up in his bed. Tessa was stroking his hair to wake him up, and spoke to gently, telling him they had to clean his wounds. It was still dark out, and James was half awake as his parents washed the dirt off of his skin. At one point, Tessa was rocking him in her arms, singing a lullaby, positioning him so that his back was exposed. His father must have been treating the wounds there. James wasn’t even aware that was a place where he was hurt. All he knew was that his mama was warm. Every time he slipped into unconsciousness, he relived those terrible moments. Yet, he could hear his mother’s sweet voice guiding him to safety. His father’s arms carrying him when he couldn’t carry himself. He never knew how lucky he was to be so loved. He wanted to cry when they left. He wanted them to stay with him the entire night. He tried to call out to them as they walked out, but he voice was gone.

He was alone for a while, until Matthew came. He laid down beside James and that reassuring feeling was back. He put his head on Matthew’s shoulder, and felt a wave of warmth go through him. One that only came when you were with your parabatai.

“Good night, Jamie.”

“Good night, Math.”

And both boys, equally exhausted, slept all through the night.

[vashs-posts]

ohk so let's all imagine this.

Thomas loves languages. So i assume he loves travelling too, because then, he gets to explore new languages. Alastair speaks Persian, and tbh Persian was spoken in many South Asian countries as that time (zorashtrians, etc)

Imagine Alastair and Thomas going around south asia and living it up. Thomas knows hindustani (modern day hindi) and urdu. He knows Nepali and Bengali. They travel across modern day India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, Bhutan etc while having the time of their lives. They portal in and out of institutes, and bring in souvenirs for their beautiful cirenworth house.

Alastair barters with the rich Persian merchants and gets rich. We all know that Alastair is going to be an amazing politician, so by virtue he's an amazing speaker. Everyone loves him. And they love Thomas too, because even tho he's a white man, he's keen to learn their culture.

They both drink tea in the Mysore, and Hyderabadi palaces with the kings/nawabs. The nawabs gift them beautiful weaponry and paintings.

They take long walks in the palace lawns while men and women admire them through the eyes of ancient Bengali poetry.

They go hunting through the huge jungles. They train with the army and teach the new soldiers how to use weapons.

They wear kurtas with beautiful gold embroidery on it.

At night they sit on the rooftop of the Mysore palace. They look at the city below them with its candle-lit pathways, and the sky above them. They count their blessings along with the stars.

Now this is such a comfort headcannon for me.

[lost-in-fictionn]

[heronchildlove]

Those 2 tidbits had me wondering and I went to check and found out something quite interesting. Aside from each other, both Cordelia and James notice how Matthew smells so often, and describe him the same way as each other. The only other person that does that is Ariadne about Anna. Once. And these 3 have all of these:

It is quite interesting indeed. Three people so attuned to each other, using this so intimate trope with each other interchangeably, hmm I wonder what it means :3c

[cuebooks]

A Punishment of Friendship

(Part 1)

Main Characters: Grace Blackthorn & Alastair Carstairs

Series: Yes; Part 1

Word Count: 2,052

Prompt: Grace & Alastair (platonic) after Jesse’s raising

Tw: Curse word

Any questions or comments? Feel free to ask. Asks are open and anonymous is on!

Hope you all enjoy!

It had been a week since the Clave took Jesse, searching him– questioning him. They were furious with Grace and Lucie, and Grace understood why but she also didn’t. It wasn’t technically necromancy; besides, how could they be angry the girls brought the firstborn Blackthorn back, a shadowhunter back, her brother back? He wasn’t hurt, thanks to them. He was as him as the day he died. But they only waved a hand when she tried to explain. Why have a trial when only one side has to speak? 

But none of it mattered; she was here, in this room, in the middle of faces. She quickly glanced at Charlotte, who stood by the door, watching Grace in the middle of the room and Lucie in a chair by a corner with Cordelia and her family next to her. Kamala and Alastair were pressed into the corner where Charlotte stood. 

Inquisitor Bridgestock stood in front of Grace, the Mortal Sword laid next to him after he finished questioning the girl. Her platinum hair was down, curling at the edges against her white dress, simpler than she normally wore but as pure as her mother always dressed her. Kit and the others talked Charlotte into letting them stand in the corner opposite her, Matthew laying in a chair beside Thomas and Kit. They had claimed the idea that they needed to be there to support Lucie, Cordelia, and James, and she relented. Accepting this isn’t a battle she really needed to fight. It wouldn’t harm anyone.

“Grace Blackthorn,” Maurice Bridgestock finally said, “after questioning you I am putting you under full guardianship of Tatiana Blackthorn, you are under her control and are permitted to only stay on the ground of Blackthorn Manor. You can have no contact with Lucie Herondale or Jesse Blackthorn until a decision regarding Jesse Blackthorn and his,” he paused, fumbling inside his head, “situation has been decided.”

Grace kept her face composed in front of another thing to silence her. Another part of time stolen from her hands and given to Tatiana. Maybe that’s why she looked young because she stole Grace’s innocence, her happy days, swallowing the happiness she stole to gather behind her heart, so out of touch and cold.

Tatiana had been pinned as the innocent mother, her child running amok. Scorned by the girl she took in and loved, it was almost beautiful to Grace that a bitch like her could cry. As if water was a renewable resource, nothing important, free to be casted off a cheek to become an obliterated drop. Her adoptive mother feigned innocence and sorrow at her son’s return. It was weird how short an amount of time it took for Tatiana’s name to dwindle in her life, from mom to Tatiana to her. No longer acknowledging Tatiana’s name with decent respect as a human. It didn’t matter what Grace called her; Tatiana would always see her as a sword to be sharpened till it no longer served a purpose, the occasional child slipping from her lips but only in a derogatory voice. Clipped faster than either of their hearts could beat.

“Please, may I stay in the London institute? I can not be far from Jesse, from others at this time.” She let a pleading tone seep the words. She hated him, but she loved her brother more, so she let her dignity float away from her for now. Letting it fall at his feet like so many men wished to see.

Inquisitor Bridgestock continued with a ruthless and unbothered tone, not even minding his own actions. “I cannot allow that due to Lucie Herondale’s connection to the Institute, you would be in too close of contact. Instead, you may be a ward of someone else if you wish to be closer to the Institute but speaking that Tatiana is your only family, that is not possible.” And suddenly, the light was stolen from the room, whisked off into the stars, something so far away that you could only wish to see the twinkling light. And sometimes, the clouds and streetlights did not permit even that.

She wanted to be close to Jesse, even if she couldn’t see him, at least experience some things he did now, with, well, being brought back to life. She’d hear the same rain pattering on the roofs, the same traffic and disturbances, hear the same wind brush against their separate windows as if the wind would pass their presence, their messages to each other. It was something so little she was asking for, so tiny it slipped through her fingers. 

But someone shifted, steps clicking closer till they wavered behind Grace. “I’ll offer her shelter,” he spoke, and Grace had no clue who it was, but her body went rigid; it was a man. She couldn’t turn to see him; she didn’t want to give either of the people next to her the satisfaction of knowing they held her life in their hands, her future squishing and writhing away between them. Suffocating. A feeling she was too familiar with.

The Inquisitor only stared at Alastair, a bit in disbelief and annoyance, when his proposition made sense. But it flickered away, into the darkest parts of his eyes, consumed before he looked at Alastair again. No emotion or thoughts pulling at his muscles. And Grace wondered if he and Tatiana practice the same washed facial expression together.

“If Consul Fairchild agrees to it, that is fine. But if I find you have broken any rules, you will be punished, Alastair.” The black-haired boy only nodded. 

“Thank you,” he spoke. He really didn’t have many options in the world of words here; he was barely walking on whatever beam was placed beneath him. 

“I see no problem with it, Maurice,” Charlotte said, using his name, ignoring his title like he had Alastair’s. She could always play a placid person. Charlotte was more intelligent than him, and she wouldn’t fall for his disrespect to whatever he wanted her to fail at. She knew better; there was a reason she was Consul, and he wasn’t. 

“I see no problem with it, Maurice,” Charlotte said, using his name, ignoring his title like he had Alastair’s. She could always play a placid person. Charlotte was more intelligent than him, and she wouldn’t fall for his disrespect to whatever he wanted her to fail at. She knew better; there was a reason she was Consul, and he wasn’t. 

“Fine, William Herondale will help you and Grace figure out the situation. Charlotte will do what she sees fit. This matter is now only in her hands.” He wrapped up the Mortal Sword and carried it out, nodding toward Charlotte as Gideon rolled his eyes at his back, crossing his arms as the Inquisitor passed. Charlotte, him, and Sophie hated him. He was ruder than ever was necessary, and Sophie never hid her disdain for him, always making Charlotte laugh with her comments. 

Tatiana peeled herself from whatever shadow her soul blended into. “Grace can stay with me,” Alastair only shook his head, moving toward Tatiana, between the two women. As if trying to cut whatever rope Tatiana was trying to lasso around Grace.

“You heard Inquisitor Bridgestock. And Consul Fairchild, it has been decided. Her word is final.”

“I am her mother, I get her.”

He shook his head, “a real mother that cared would have stood up for her like they had,” nudging his head toward the Herondales surrounding Lucie, who looked at Grace in disbelief, mixed with something like regret. “They went in search of Ms. Herondale and stood up for her. You stood in the corner, smiling.” Grace never heard him speak, at least not like this, as if something struck him and he no longer fought against it, a venom poisoning his tone.

Tatiana recoiled her hand back onto her hip, no longer pointing at him accusingly. “Yes, I noticed it, Mrs. Blackthorn. You may share her name, but you do not share her best interest that suits her and only her.” He looked at her in the eyes, sewing his hate for parents like her into every second. He lowered his voice to a hush, “you remind me of my father, Tatiana, and that will never be a compliment. You shouldn’t hold yourself to such high standards; people will only laugh when you fail to complete them.” Grace glanced up at him, fighting a smile at the only person whose words spoke a semblance of the pain and hatred she felt. The anger she wanted to throw at Tatiana like scalding water scooped out of her chest and frozen into words he spoke. “You refuse to be her parent, but I can offer her help, even if she doesn’t need it.” He flicked his eyes to Grace, and she caught his gaze, it was shiny, soft, and finally, she was given a look of respect. Something Tatiana never granted her, and she stood up straighter. “But I can offer it.” 

Her face flushed red in anger. “You can not help her, Alastair,” the name pressed with anger like a branding, hot and painful. “You could not even help your own family.” She whipped her words at him, lashing at his heart. “I will get Grace back.” She hissed before walking out the heavy doors. And Grace watched as Alastair exhaled, and funnily enough, he looked like he was prepared to offer help; he was dressed in an azure suit that pressed against his darkly tanned skin, his hair gelled back lightly enough to get it out of his face. The slight curling waves in it providing texture. The Carstairs ring clung to his ring finger as he clutched and unclutched his hand, the other silver bands on his hand clinking together with the movement. Has he always dressed like this?

Grace realized she never really looked at anyone in this room, the dresses, the patterns, the ruffling skirts. She never really had the chance. 

“You are free to choose if you would like to stay in the main building of Cirenworth Hall or the separate section next to it.” Alastair turned toward her. “Either you choose, I will not walk into your space; none of us will without your permission.” He turned his voice to a whisper, “Inquisitor Bridgestock may think you did something wrong, that you are a prisoner but you aren’t. I would have done the same if it was Cordelia in Jesse’s place.” He only smiled and nodded at her as he turned. “I’ll be by Cordelia when you are ready to decide or Consul Fairchild has talked to you. Come collect me, and we can figure out what to do.” He smiled, and she only nodded, breathing as he walked away. 

Something was settling in her stomach, something like steel. Hard and unmoving. And for the first time in a while, she realized it was her nerves surrendering to her; no longer charged with the fear Tatiana controlled them with. They were entirely hers, and she felt a little giddy, a little sad that it took someone to interject the deal. But from now on, she wasn’t under Tatiana’s control, and from the sound of it, she wasn’t under Alastair’s either. She was free in the only semblance of the definition she ever found. She nestled her heart into the word hoping it’d be enough to intertwine her future alongside its letters, her blood rushing to write the repetition of letters inside her body. And the corner of her lips pulled, pulled into a smile. Small but there and entirely for her.

———————

Tag list: @hidethebreakables @magigingercal @life-through-the-eyes-of @cutesheepstuff @styxdrawings @rinadragomir @lescahiersdesable

Sorry for the wait. It turned out to be a lot longer than I ever thought. Thank you for waiting! And also figured out the read more tab! (Who’s proud? 🥲)

[astriefer]

Thomas always mentioned so much Alastair's hair and yet we were robbed of his thoughts when he probably touched it in the sanctuary.

[edwinspaynes]

Idk if you write like requests but if you do would you ever consider writing a fic of James defending cordelia in some way? Idk I just read a post abt when he threw Augustus in the lake when he insulted tessa. And I just wish we could’ve seen a scene kind of like that (maybe not that dramatic) but with him defending cordelia - I kind of wish race had acc been discussed a bit in the book lol, I remember a couple snippets way before chog which suggested it may be discussed but i guess cc changed her mind. Obviously no worries or pressure if you don’t want to I just thought I’d ask if it’s something you might have considered writing :)

This is something that I would be interested in writing, and I have adopted a friend's headcanon that Cordelia pretends to be a foreign queen from a made-up country when people are racist to her and imply that all brown/middle eastern people hail from the same culture. (@belle-keys, shout-out to you). And I do think that James would defend her, and he would 100% do all in his power to descemate a racist asshole.

The thing is though that I am whiter than white bread, and I feel like writing a fanfic that exists solely to confront/explore issues of racism is perhaps not my place. I do incorporate realistic racism and how it's contended with in both other fics and my original books (because I do have characters of colour who would have been impacted), but an entire story about how racism impacts a woman of colour in 1904 and how her white husband handles confront it is, I feel, not something that I am the correct person to write, if that makes sense?

Sorry, I'm not trying to be a butt, but I don't think I'm the right person to pull it off in a realistic way no matter how hard I try. <3

[thomaslightwood]

Thomas & Co. - Lucie, Christopher, Eugenia

I just wanted to make some headacanons about Thomas' relationships with his friends and family because we were robbed of content about this 🤧

if you have any requests about Thomas' relationships with somebody, I would be happy to obligate! I'll try my best to post more headcanons on the next few days and I'm still looking for ideas ☺️

Hope you enjoy this!

Lucie Herondale: A new Friendship

In the beginning they didn't know the other is studying Farsi. They each started to for their own reasons, on their own (a.k.a the Carstairs)

One day Thomas' family goes in the Institute and he spots Lucie's Persian dictionary and notes

He gets exited. At the time he doesn't have many friends and he sees this as opportunity to make a new friend

He shyly start a conversation with Lucie about it and she gets exited too because she finally found someone who has the same passion as her

Since then they regularly schedule meetings to study Persian together and Cordelia sometimes comes to help them

After Thomas comes back from Spain they renew their meetings

Lucie is the first one who found out about the tattoo and she teases him about it all the time

Thomas was determined not to let her see it because he feels he'd reveal something too personal

And Lucie respects that. She understands what is like to keep people away from your personal business

(She doesn't stop the teasing tho)

Christopher Lightwood: The Brother Of His Heart

Even tho Matthew is the mum friend of the Merry Thieves, Thomas personally took the task to look after Christopher

He often keep an eye on his cousin when they're in the Devil Tavern because he's worried for his safety

Thomas likes to watch Christopher while he does his experiments. Because Kit is often fully focused on it, especially when it's just the two of them

Thomas takes care Christopher to not set himself on fire and to keep his workplace clean when necessary

When he's with Christopher he's not worried what he says because he knows Kit wouldn't judge him

And Christopher knows that - that's why he loves when Thomas curse in Spanish It means Thomas is enough comfortable around him to let his guard down

When Barbara dies their roles are interchanged - and Kit start to always keep an eye on his cousin

For a while Thomas barely care what's happening - he barely eats and have trouble sleeping. Cecily and Gabriel are very kind but part of him is hurting because he can't share his grieve with his parents and sister

Christopher is the one that cares about him then - he makes him eat, he makes Thomas train and move, he distracts him

Thomas is half of the reason why Christopher is so determined to found the antidote - he wants to help Thomas in the only way he knows

Together they experiment day and night. Sometimes Christopher makes a little explosions on purpose to cheer Thomas up

(aaaand because he loves to hear him curse in Spanish)

Eugenia Lightwood: Are We Alone Now?

For most people it's regular day. But for Thomas it's one month since Barbara died.

He is alone in his room. He can't eat, he can't sleep because something is haunting him restlessly

Eugene quietly enters the room, not wanting to startle him

He looks at her, a dark shadows under his eyes

"Do you remember when I was small and I was very sick?"

None of the family could forget

Eugene has lived in quiet fear almost all her life that the most precious thing the world has ever seen will be gone

She just nodded

Thomas continued, “Now I-... Whenever I think about Barbs I feel like that again. Weak. Helpless. Frustrated I can do nothing.”

“Oh Tommy,” Eugenia sighed

Thomas' eyes filled with tears. Barbara was the one who gave him this nickname. The rest of the family used it sometimes too but Thomas could see the joy in his sister's eyes when she said this nickname. Because it was something she gave him, something personal between them

Eugenia sat on the bed next to her brother

She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Thomas hugged her and he leaned his head on her's too

They stay silent for a while

“Are we alone now?” Eugenia whispered

Thomas was thinking the same, all the time since Barbara died. They had each other, their parents, his friends... but without Barbara there was a big hole that was eating the light

“No,” Thomas said. He was surprised that he actually believed it.

“We feel lost now but... We are not alone. We have never been and never will be. Because we have each other. We have our family and friends. We are anything but alone.”

“It still hurts,” Eugenia whispered, in the edge of tears

“It does,” Thomas quietly agreed

Together they watched as the sun was rising through the window. It was Barbara's favorite part of the day.

They both thought how much Barbara would love it. And because she couldn't see it anymore, they watched it for her.

[rainingpouringetc]

so hug all your friends and let them know you’re not letting go

ch 1 - what’s it like to be alone on a sunday

alastair/ariadne/grace/christopher/eugenia/jesse friendship fic for ya :) | read on AO3 | masterlist

---

It took them a rather long time to all find each other. Looking back, it seemed almost a miracle that they had. It seemed a miracle that they hadn’t allowed childhood gripes and societal biases to come between them and tear their little found family apart.

Alastair and Ariadne credited themselves with being the first of the group. Grace disputed this, saying she and Jesse had known each other far longer; Christopher and Eugenia chose to remain silent on this matter. 

“You lot might’ve known each other,” Ariadne liked to say, brown eyes gleaming, “but Alas and I were the founds of this group. We’re the ones who brought the six of us together.” And she was right.

It had started with a ball, which took place a short time after Cordelia’s engagement party. It didn’t much matter which one it was or even who was hosting—all that mattered was it had been dreadfully boring and Sona had been harping on Alastair for standing morosely on the edges of the dance floor.

Eager to stop her constant nagging, he had approached Ariadne Bridgestock and politely asked for a dance. He had never exchanged more than a few words with her directly, though Charles had told him much about her. He did know that she was like him; the way she watched Anna Lightwood—like she was untouchable behind a pane of glass, only to be longed for from afar—was much too familiar. It helped his own cause that she was the Inquisitor’s daughter. Sona would be delighted.

Ariadne had been perfectly proper in accepting his request to dance. They had been silent for the first few bars of music until Charles and Grace twirled by, eliciting an eye roll from Alastair. Ariadne raised an eyebrow at that, a knowing smile playing on her lips. It was easy, after that, to strike up a conversation. They had a mutual contempt for Charles, and gossiping about him came easily. From there, it wasn’t much of a stretch to talk about other things. They chatted mildly about Shadowhunter politics before swiftly moving on to upcoming social events (which they were both looking to avoid). By the end of the song, they were enthusiastically chatting about a library a few blocks away from the Institute that neither of them had been able to go to yet but were both desperately hoping to browse.

“Care to join me for another turn around the room?” Alastair asked, flashing a rare smile.

“Why, of course,” Ariadne replied, taking his hand and allowing him to draw her close as the music started up again. “We have much to discuss if we’re to decline Catherine’s invitation to the park next Friday in favor of allowing ourselves to be lost in the library.”

They did just that. Cordelia was a bit cross with her brother for leaving her to go to the park alone—“You’re not going to be alone, Layla, you’ll still have James and Lucie and all their little friends”—but, after a bit of light bickering, she bid him farewell and slunk off to the waiting Herondale carriage.

Alastair found Ariadne at the library, already with her nose buried in a book. It was the perfect way to start a friendship, he thought later. They spent the day exchanging their favorite books and authors, each leaving with a back-breaking pile when the sun dipped below the horizon. Ariadne proposed they stop for dinner, but Alastair declined, stating he wished to stop the rumor mill before it had a chance to begin. They themselves might know that nothing of that sort could occur between them—it was simply impossible—but the rest of the Enclave did not. Ariadne was quite gracious about it and gave him a kind smile before disappearing down the road toward her house.

After that day, they sought each other out more and more often. Every party and ball found them chatting on the edges of the room. Every dreaded social event found them disappearing to a nearby park or library, anywhere to enjoy each other’s company in peace. Alastair found himself drawn not just to Ariadne’s gentleness but also her startling wit. It was good, he thought, that she so often chose to turn the other cheek when confronted with a tense accusation. If she wanted, she could cut those gossipers down with a few sharp words. It was like looking at an alternate timeline in which Alastair had never gone to the Academy and rather grew up warm and loved. Instead, he had been forced into thick skin and a quick tongue, one that often got ahead of him.

Eventually, every lonely night found them at each other’s doorstep, propriety be damned. Alastair learned to climb the trellis up to Ariadne’s window; he learned to knock three times before ducking his head in preparation for her throwing the window open wide and inviting him in. She always had a robe nearby for nights like this, as well as an empty closet for him to hide in should someone decide to drop by unexpectedly. Ariadne, in turn, learned to keep a stock of Risa’s favorite chocolates; she learned to bribe the maid into letting her steal away up the stairs to Alastair’s room at midnight and not breath a word of it to the other Carstairs. He had an uncanny way of knowing when she would be there. He was always waiting to open the door before she had to knock.

Those nights, so full of loneliness and despair, were the ones when memories came back to haunt them. Those were the nights when Alastair thought about his father, about the Academy, about all the things he convinced himself were his fault. Those were the nights when Ariadne thought about her life in India, about Anna, about all the things she convinced herself she could have done differently. Those were the nights when they silently reminded each other that they weren’t alone, that they deserved better.

Their bond was somewhat unexpected but nevertheless irreplaceable.

They supposed it was only a matter of time before something should change.

---

It was perhaps a month after Cordelia’s engagement party and Alastair was climbing up to Ariadne’s window. His day had been long and fraught with awkward encounters with the Merry Thieves. Thomas was still blatantly ignoring him and Matthew was his usual charming self. James was a bit more tolerable, and Christopher didn’t seem to entirely know what it was they were all upset about, only that he’d better be upset about it too. All Alastair needed, he thought, was someone to tell him he had been trying his best. His mind kept snagging on Thomas’s words. If you come near me or speak to me at any point after this, I will knock you into the Thames.

He reached the top and, light as could be, knocked thrice. He ducked his head but, to his surprise, no answer came. Frowning, he tried again. When Ariadne still did not come to the window, he huffed in frustration and lifted himself up to peer into the room. A light was on, which was a bit odd. Usually, the house had gone to bed by now; it was well after midnight, after all.

It wasn’t until far too late that Alastair realized Ariadne was not alone in her room. He met the steely gray eyes of Grace Blackthorn and nearly let go of the trellis in shock. He’d nearly forgotten she was staying with the Bridgestocks. Grace’s eyes widened, then snapped to Ariadne—whose back was, evidently, turned to the window—then back to Alastair. She stormed to the window, flung it open, and hissed for him to just get inside already.

Once Alastair had pulled himself through the window (a rather unpleasant experience he doubted he’d ever get used to), Grace turned to him and rather looked like she wished to smack him. “Why on earth,” she whispered, voice dripping with rage, “are you crawling through Ariadne’s window at two in the morning?”

It was a fair question, but one he had no desire to answer. “What are you doing in Ariadne’s room at two in the morning?” he deflected, lifting his chin haughtily.

“I had matters to discuss with her,” Grace told him, voice tight. Ariadne rolled her eyes.

“As did I.” Alastair leaned against the bedpost with a casualness he did not feel, crossing his arms and regarding Grace with practiced iciness.

“You had something so important to discuss that it could not wait just a few more hours for proper social calling times?” Grace raised a silver-blonde brow at him. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

With that, she swept out of the room, through an odd look over her shoulder at Ariadne.

“Do you think she ever gets tired of being so bitter?” Ariadne questioned, then looked apologetically at Alastair. “What I mean is… I suppose she must get lonely. I can’t imagine Charles being good company to her, and she hardly talks to anyone else.”

Alastair considered this. I wouldn’t wish Charles’ company on anyone, he thought for a moment, then caught himself. It was odd, thinking about Charles. For so long he had given his whole heart to loving Charles. Now, that love had twisted into bitterness, but not necessarily because of who Charles was. His brain hurt thinking about it, so he asked, “What was it she needed to discuss with you?

Ariadne shrugged and pulled her robe tighter around herself. “She didn’t get around to it. You got here the same time she did.”

They waited a few days for repercussions, sure that Grace would find some way to use this against them. Ariadne wasn’t sure if Grace had mentioned something to the Inquisitor or not. It would be quite scandalous should it get out that Alastair had been in her bedroom at two in the morning.

Days passed, and nothing happened. It seemed they were in the clear.

The next time they saw Grace was in the park, at a social event they usually would’ve tried to skip. She was there with Charles, who seemed too busy chatting with snobbish Shadowhunters and their parents to notice when Grace slipped away and came over to meet them.

Alastair and Ariadne were standing together by the waterfront. Cordelia had gone off to find Lucie, and Ariadne had come alone. As Grace approached, they both tensed, steeling themselves for some form of blackmail or threat. Instead, she simply nodded politely in greeting and said, “Well, isn’t this a bore.”

Alastair raised an eyebrow. It certainly wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “Indeed it is. And how are you, Grace?”

“Oh.” She waved the question away with a flap of her gloved hand. “Well, what is it you two usually do to get away from events such as this?”

Alastair exchanged a glance with his friend. A knowing smile sat on her lips. He turned to Grace. “We’ll show you.”

---

Sometime between when Grace had left and when she returned, Charles had gone from talking enthusiastically about dreadfully boring political matters with some of the more prominent names of their parents’ generation to sighting exasperatedly at the antics of the Merry Thieves and company, with whom he was now engaged in conversation. From what Grace could tell as she approached, Thomas and Christopher looked like they would rather not be there. Lucie was whispering something in Cordelia’s ear, and the latter was standing dutifully by James. James himself looked rather bored as he interrupted whatever it was Charles was saying to Matthew.

Grace braced herself, took a breath, and stepped up to her fiancé’s side. “Charles?” she said mildly, erasing any hint of emotion from her voice. He looked down at her in surprise. She could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on her as she continued. “You need not wait for me when you’re finished. I’m departing early.”

Charles’s red brows furrowed. It might’ve been cute. Grace wouldn’t know. “Why is that, dear?”

“Ariadne Bridgestock and Alastair Carstairs invited me to browse a favorite library of theirs,” she said calmly. “I accepted. They’re waiting for me by the carriage now.”

As if in disbelief, the group turned as one and looked over to the Inquisitor’s carriage. Alastair and Ariadne, true to their word, were talking quietly to one another just next to it. Alastair whispered something, his eyebrows raised and a smile on his face. As he spoke, Ariadne tipped her head back in laughter.

Matthew watched the two with barely concealed fury; Thomas looked rather like someone had just slapped him. Grace filed it away, intending to inquire into the reasons of their reactions as soon as she could. Perhaps there was leverage to be found there.

The others largely looked on with mild bemusement. “I didn’t know they were friends,” Lucie said, her voice tinted with surprise. “Do they have an understanding?” she wondered aloud. She turned to Cordelia. “Did you know?”

Cordelia looked hesitant to answer. Her eyes were on her brother, and they were softened by love. Something snagged in Grace’s mind. That feeling dancing in Cordelia’s eyes was all too familiar. It was how Grace felt when she thought of Jesse.

Grace interjected before Cordelia could say anything. “I shouldn’t leave them waiting. Goodbye, Charles.” She nodded a farewell to the others and made for the carriage, never once letting her posture sad as they burned holes into her back with their stares.

---

It was a bit different with Grace there. Ariadne hadn’t quite decided that it was a bad different, thought. She was willing to take a chance on the girl, foolish as it might prove her to be.

Alastair clearly already regretted the decision to invite her along as the awkward silence in the carriage dragged on. He set his jaw, crossed his arms, and stared determinedly out the window—telltale signs that he was retreating into himself again. Ariadne sighed, searching for something to stay to the girl beside her.

“Do you have a favorite book, Grace?” she finally asked politely. It was proper enough, and they were going to the library after all.

Grace considered the question for a long moment before she responded. “I’ve always loved The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. Have you read it?”

“I have not,” Ariadne told her. “I’ll look for it when we get to the library. They have so many books, I’m sure they’ll have it somewhere.”

The silence began to creep up on them again. “Well,” Grace said, breaking it, “what about you, Ariadne? What is your favorite book?”

Ariadne brightened. “The Prisoner of Zenda. If you’d like to read it, I have a copy of my own at home—you needn’t worry about finding it at the library.”

Grace dipped her head in a nod, and Ariadne spied the faint beginnings of a smile on her face. Grace turned to Alastair, who was still pointedly not looking at either of them. “And you?”

A muscle twitched in Alastair’s jaw. Ariadne could almost see the conflict raging in his eyes. This had been his idea, she wanted to remind him. They were giving Grace a chance. The tension went out of his shoulders as he flicked his dark eyes to Grace’s. “Machiavelli’s The Prince.”

Grace looked rather pleased by his answer. “That one I’ve read. I quite enjoyed it.”

This was the right thing to say. The corner of Alastair’s mouth twitched upward in pleasant surprise as he engaged her in a conversation about the book and its contents. Ariadne listened, warm happiness spreading in her chest. She hadn’t read the book—it was on her list—but listening to the two of them talk about it with such enthusiasm was enough to melt the tense atmosphere she’d been so worried would settle over them all. Ariadne was reminded suddenly of the night she and Alastair had met and danced and talked and talked.

The conversation turned so that she could join back in, and by the time they reached the library, they were all chatting as though they were long-lost friends. Perhaps they were in another life.

Time passed like sand slipping through fingers, smooth and fast and easier than it should have been. Ariadne knew much of their conversation was close to the surface. Grace was still not quite trustworthy enough for anything deeper. She was all tangled up with James and Charles and now Cordelia as well—Ariadne didn’t blame Alastair for being a bit chary of interacting with her. Still… a part of Ariadne felt like maybe Grace could grow to be a close friend like Alastair had.

i hope you guys enjoyed! i love this idea so much, they all deserve happiness and i wish they could find it together.

tagging @ohcoolnice @stxr-thxif @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @doitforthecarstairs @itsdaughterofthemoon @imherongraystairstrash bc i hope y’all like this lol. send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future updates <3

[polin-erospsyche]

The prompt number 16 is quite interesting lol 16. “Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” Choose the ship/character you like :)

Hello! Ok, there are literally zero reasons as to why it took me a year to write this bloody thing except maybe that I had some not fun moments and also this literally never could have been written if I hadn’t waited this long. I don’t know if you’ll read it. You’ve probably forgotten about this in all fairness but if you do read it I hope you like it. 

Also taking this opportunity to thank everyone for following me. I’m at 400 followers! This is insane. I’m not sure why you’re all following tbh but to celebrate I forced myself to finish this long overdue fic, hope you like it! Also disclaimer: I love all of the characters from TLH. I am aware of the existing debate around Matthew and Alastair and my writing in here does not represent my point of view. But I I decided to represent Matthew and his view in this way for story telling purpose. Please don’t come at me with gun blazing. If you do wanna talk, we can, but in peace 😊💕

Somewhere Where Our Shadows Meet, It Feels Like Coming Home - 

a Fairdale one-shot (is that even their brotp name???) 

This was the fifth time James was rereading the passage of the book he had picked up. It was no use. Each time he finished the page he had already forgotten the beginning. His mind was foggy with a multitude of thoughts. Thoughts about Lucie and her strange dalliance with a boy who used to be a ghost, about Grace which inevitably led to unsolicited questions on his own identity, and, as much as he tried not to think about it, thoughts of Matthew and Cordelia. He really did not enjoy these last kinds of thoughts. He couldn’t help but imagine what kind of relationship could have blossomed between the two during their trip to Paris. He knew how Matthew felt, but when it came to Cordelia, he had no single clue. He constantly wondered as to whether she hated or loved him. Daring to hope that he hadn’t ruined everything. Just for that hope to vanish the next second because there was no possible way he did not ruin it. And even if ever decided to ask her, he would have no idea how to approach the topic without sounding like an arrogant bastard.  

James let out a long breath, rolling his shoulders, trying to let go of the tension. He was pretty sure that if he ventured to look at himself in the mirror that was hung above the chimney, he would see huge dark circles beneath his eyes. Circles which color could rival the color of London’s night sky. A result of many nights plagued by bad dreams and worry. During some of those sleepless nights, James had gone to Cordelia’s room. The first time it was under the pretext of looking for books. Her room had been full of her personal belongings. A bottle of perfume on her vanity table, an evening dress carefully laid out on the chaise longue, a copy of Majun and Layla on her bedside table. So many little pieces of who Cordelia was scattered in a room she had run away from. She hadn’t been back to Curzon street since that night. Upon arriving in London, she had decided to move back with her mother using the excuse of the soon-to-be new baby’s arrival. James kept going to her home though, eventually admitting to himself that he did so because of the smell of Jasmin that lingered. It was the closest thing he had to a semblance of her presence in the house. It was a soft smell that grounded him. It was also a heady smell that reminded him of the sweetness he had lost.

He shook himself out of thoughts of her. Something he had gotten quite good at to be fair, considering how many times he thought of her in the span of a day. Pushing himself up from the table he was leaning against, he closed the book he was reading, giving up on understanding it, and made his way to the window. Outside the sky was tinged in pastel colors drawing the day to a close. James would slowly make his way back home. He would rehash the day, come up with new plans to wake his sister from her deep sleep, find out that these plans would fail again come morning, and finally decide that he would need to eat a bite because going to bed with an empty stomach was just not advisable. His parents had offered for him to stay at the Institute with them but James had refused. He preferred the calm and silence of Curzon Street. He found that the bittersweet cloak that covered his house was, in some ways, almost reassuring. Maybe he was going insane. Just when he was ready to go bid his goodnight to his family, he heard the doors of the library open wide behind him and slammed shut again.

“Did you know?” Matthew growled. James might have thought that he himself had gone slightly deranged chasing down the smell of Jasmin throughout his home, but at least he did not look half as unhinged as Matthew looked right this instant. Matthew’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, and his fist clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white.

“Are you alright?” James asked, keeping an even tone.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

Matthew took a few strides in James’ direction. His stare holding James’ gaze in place as if daring James to contrary him. “Did you know about Thomas?”

“Um yes,” James nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I do know Thomas.” At that Matthew narrowed his eyes and almost seemed as if he was trying hard not to grind his teeth. Noted. Attempts at humor and alleviating the situation were not going to work. “What about him?” James tried again. His smile replaced by a serious gaze.

“Did you know about Alastair?” Matthew asked, almost spatting out Alastair’s name.

James took a few steps back, reinstating the much-needed personal space for such a conversation. James did know about Alastair, but only because Thomas had looked so miserable and James had pried so insistently that Thomas had had no choice but to give up his well-kept secret. James had understood, sometimes you couldn’t choose who you fell in love with. Sometimes you fell in love with something that only you saw in the other person. Love was usually shrouded in mystery this way, best not to question how it worked. Obviously, by the look of things, Matthew did not agree.

“Please sit down,” James pointed to one of the green velvet armchairs. “I’ll pour you a drink.” James said, making his way to the stash of liquor in one of the dark wooden commodes. James had always wondered what kind of people, for what kind of situation kept alcohol in the library of all rooms. It always seemed to him that a secret stash of tea would have been more appropriate. Now he understood what kind of situation required people to put alcohol in every room, even if it was just one abandoned bottle of Parkmore. “Is Whiskey alright?” James turned his head in Matthew’s direction.

“So you knew?” Matthew answered, seemingly in a staring competition with the mustard yellow wallpaper in front of him. “He told you?”

Whiskey it would be for a total lack of all other present choices James thought as he started to pour a glass.

Matthew kept going on his verbal onslaught towards the wallpaper. In all fairness mustard yellow was a color that could potentially enrage everyone. “How can he? It’s Alastair that we are talking about. It’s not as if there wasn’t any other man in London that Thomas couldn’t have a fling for.”

James very much doubted that a fling could start to describe Thomas’s feelings for Alastair. However, seeing how Matthew was nearly spitting out every single one of his words, he thought it safer not to share this piece of information.

“Matthew, please calm down and control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” James handed the glass to Matthew, which he waved away.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink.”

James squinted. “Since when?”

“Since Paris.”

James couldn’t help but feel a pinch in his chest at the mention of Paris. Paris city of lights, city of lovers. An escape his friend had taken with the only girl James had ever, truly, loved since he was barely old enough to understand the concept. It was a wondrous thing how much pain a single word could hold.

“What a strange place to decide to stop drinking.” James took a sip of the honey-colored liquid, trying to hide his hurt to the best of his ability.

“Cordelia asked me to. That was her condition for coming with me.”

James did not want to go in the general direction of a conversation that involved Cordelia. Especially not if that conversation was with Matthew. He had written a letter. James had understood. He slightly had the urge to strangle his best friend for going with her; for loving her; he did not quite know. But that was it. They hadn’t spoken of Paris nor of Cordelia together and that was for the best. Neutral conversations were for the best, they could avoid the hurt and the blame, and if James let it come to that again who knew what would be next. Yet he couldn’t help but ask.

“Why did you leave?”

Matthew turned to James, his anger receding ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” A beat, a choice to either keep going or retreat before it is too late. A beat, a choice to see where this could go “why did you go to Paris?”

“You owe me an answer first. Did you know about Alastair?”

“Yes.”  

“How could you not tell me?”

“You weren’t here Matthew.” James’ voice almost broke, almost. “How was I supposed to tell you anything?”

James had wanted to throw so much more at Matthew’s face. Throw words that he wouldn’t be able to take back. He had been feeling so alone. So utterly lost after Grace’s admission. After Cordelia’s departure. He had needed his best friend. He had wanted to tell him so much, to figure it all out with him. To have Matthew hold him at times when he didn’t know if he could hold it up together and tell him, simply, that he believed in him. But Matthew hadn’t been in London. He had been in Paris. Happy. With Cordelia.

“And you accept it?” Matthew asked, carefully studying James.

“I guess it depends on what we are talking about. In any case,” James turned away from the fireplace to look at his friend. “why are you so against it if it makes Thomas happy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because Alastair doesn’t deserve to be loved?”

“Maybe it is more about deserving a second chance rather than deserving of love. Maybe it is about getting a chance to fix your mistakes. Surely no one is worthless of that.”

“Sometimes the mistakes are too big to fix.” Matthew shrugged, breaking eye contact.

“Is that why you ran away?” The question was asked so softly as if asked any louder and James would be terrified to see Matthew run away again. James wasn’t sure he could bear it, no matter how much frustration towards Matthew he still felt.  

“I didn’t run.” Matthew shook his head. His gaze far and distant as if in another land, in a shadow realm. “I took a train, there’s a difference. And I left because of Cordelia.”

James had an inkling he hadn’t left because of Cordelia but rather Cordelia had followed in a desperate pursuit to drown both of their sorrows in the glamour of a city like Paris. After all, Paris was so similar to Matthew, it was no wonder he had chosen it. At the surface, both were golden and shining like a polished jewel box. Once that jewel box was open, however, shadows, pain, and sadness would pour out like a damn breaking loose.

“I never thought you’d try to run away from me.” James knelt in front of Matthew, his knees landing on the soft midnight blue carpet. “That one day, I’d become a part of the shadows that you try to outrun.”

Matthew turned around so fast and reached for James’ face. His green eyes were darker than usual. “You’re not my shadows, Jamie Bach. You’re my home. You are the reason why I still believe I’m worth being forgiven for.” He said those words like a damned man dying for a confession, following blindly a faith he held so dear to his heart, hoping that that faith could be his saving grace. James understood that he had become that faith.

“Forgiven for what?” James asked.  

“I can’t tell you.”

“It’s me, Matthew. What is so bad that you cannot tell me?”

“I can’t tell you because I’m afraid. I need you to stay with me. I need you to believe that I am good, even if it means that you believe in a lie.”

“Matthew …”

“If you keep choosing me and believing in me,” Matthew interrupted. If he couldn’t finish now, he never would. “then maybe I can believe that I am no monster.”

“You are not a monster, you are my parabatai.”

James felt like they were back on that bridge, at night, so close to being let in in Matthew’s secrets. Back then James hadn’t been in control of himself, he hadn’t known what was happening to him. He had lost his chance. It would not happen again. It could not happen again. James was so tired of walking a frayed rope line with Matthew, guessing at hinted truths. Being someone’s constant north took work and time and effort but because it was Matthew, James could do it. He would always do it and he needed Matthew to know that as clearly as they both knew that one day would come when they would both cross the other side together. Because after all, that was what it had always been about. Despite shadows and lies and deceptions and miscommunication, they would always be together. So James continued.  

“Do you know what that means? It means that I made a promise to you. I said entreat me not to leave thee, for wither thou goest, I will go. If aught but death part thee and me. I will not leave. No matter what you’ve done, I will stand by you, because that is the choice that I have made. That I still make. There is not a thing in this world that you could have done that would make me stop loving you, calon fy enaid.”

Matthew looked up at James and teased “Does that mean that you accept my feelings for Cordelia?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I must say, I don’t think I’m her type. It’s a pity, really.” Some strands of Matthew’s hair fell in his eyes as he shook his head. James could see the old Matthew again. The carefree one that balanced out his own shadows so well. The one he would choose and forgive a thousand times over because he too was his home.

“Matthew.”

“All right, all right.” Matthew threw his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. “I just … wish you could promise that I would not lose you.”

“I promise.”

“You can’t promise something you don’t know.” Matthew said before he started to talk about his own misbeliefs that had led to a terrible accident. James listened and did not judge and stayed long in the night after Matthew had said everything that had weighted so heavy on his heart for so long. And somewhere, under the warm light of oil lamps and next to a warm fire, the frayed rope between the two started to mend and James could only describe the feeling as one of coming home.  

Tag List: @lady-ofroses @clockworknights @the-axewielding-herondale @tess-the-dreamer @coloandreablog

Do let me know if you want to be on the tag list and I’ll happily add you! (I have a tag list now visibly, wild and mind-blown) I will try to post more now that my exams are somewhat done. Who am I kidding? There will always be more stuff to do XD

[incorrectlasthours]

[imherongraystairstrash]

Anna & Christopher

A/N: This one’s for one of the many iconic sibling duos in tsc!! It’s not entirely centralized on Anna and Kit, but I tried my best. Oh, and there are Chog Spoilers so make sure you’ve read the book. Also, thank you guys so much for your kind comments and for liking and reblogging my last fic! It really makes my day!! Next up: Gabrily Wedding! (you guys really love Gabrily haha!! It’s a good thing they’re one of my favorites as well!) -Ana

Anna had come back from patrolling with Thomas when she heard the news: Christopher was attacked by a demon and is now lying sick in the Silent City. Anna had been laughing mere minutes before she entered her parent’s house. Laughing, while Kit was dying. Anna closed her eyes.

When she and Thomas had opened the door to her parent’s house, Anna felt a chill go through her. Cecily sitting was on the floor. Both of her hands were clutching on the telephone she was holding close to her chest. There were tears streaming down her eyes. Her father had been pacing; he was grabbing fistfuls of his hair. Alex was staring at them from behind a door with his eyes wide open. When Gabriel looked up, he walked over to Anna and Thomas and embraced them tightly. Anna knew that something terrible had happened.

Cecily had desperately tried to get permission to enter the Silent City so that she could see her oldest son, possibly for the last time. Gabriel was trying to look composed for the sake of Anna’s younger brother Alex, but he wasn’t able to manage it. Thomas was standing, though Anna could see him slightly swaying. Thomas has lost so much already in the hands of this stupid disease.

Anna still couldn’t believe it. Her brother, her sweet innocent brother, was in agony and dying in the Silent City and there was nothing she could do. The thought of him made her eyes sting and her breath come shallow. She tried to swallow the bile coming up her throat. Anna didn’t want this. They had already lost someone dear not so long ago, she couldn’t bare lose her sweet brother too.  

Anna walked into her old room. It felt strange going in there after so long. The walls were still that pastel color Anna had dreaded when she was living there. Perhaps it was because Anna had more important things to worry about, but the color didn’t seem to bother her anymore. Not that she would ever chose that color to paint anything hers, but it felt nostalgic. It reminded her of a time when she would sneak into her brother’s room and wear his terrible clothes. Anna smiled to herself as she sat down in the bed.

“Anna?”

She looked up and saw Alex, her younger brother, staring back at her. When he was born, he had very dark blue eyes, like her’s, her mother’s and Will’s. But as time progressed, Anna noticed the color changing to a more greenish blue; a mix between her Father and Mother's.

“Alex, bach, are you alright?”

“I’m scared.”

“Come here, cariad.”

Alex walked up to her and she hoisted him up, setting him down on her lap. He wrapped his arms around her.

“What frightened you, Alex?” she said softly.

“Mam got a phone call and begun screaming and crying. I thought she was dying.” Alex told her. Anna could see the fear in his eyes. He had never seen his parents in such despair. Anna planted a kiss on his head.

“Alex, do you know what happened to Christopher?”

Alex nodded, “He’s sick.”

“Yes. Mam and Papa are frightened because they don’t want to lose him.” Anna heard her voice crack slightly.

“Will Kit die?” Alex asked. The tears in his eyes made Anna’s heart break. She held him closer.

“I do not know, Bach. Hopefully, a cure is found.”

“I don’t want Kit to die. He always makes me laugh.”

Alex was clinging on to Anna, his face was pressed to her shirt. Anna stroked his soft hair.

“Kit is silly, isn’t he?”

Alex wiped his eyes and nodded.

“Do you remember when he blew up his closet?”

Alex laughed softly.

Anna’s throat began to hurt. She was not ready to lose Kit. She would never be ready.

All of a sudden, the phone rang. Anna set Alex down, and held his hand as they walked down the hall to where Cecily was answering the phone. Gabriel bent down to pick up Alex and put a hand around Anna, holding her close. Cecily’s eyes opened wide as she dropped the phone. Gabriel let go of Anna.

“Cec?” Her father sounded as though he was dreading the news.

“That was Will.” Cecily looked surprised, “Christopher made a cure before he got sick and Thomas has manufactured it. They’re taking it to the Silent City right now.”

It seemed as though the entire house sighed in relief.

“Wait,” Anna said as her parents were hugging, “Who’s ‘they’?”

“Oh, Alastair Carstairs, Cordelia’s brother.”

Interesting, thought Anna.

“Are we going to see Kit now?” Alex asked.

“Oh no, honey. You are going to stay with Uncle Gideon and Aunt Sophie for a while.” Cecily said, planting a kiss on his head. Alex frowned.

“You can see him tomorrow, bach.” Gabriel said softly.

Alex nodded. Anna felt bad for Alex, but she knew it would be better he didn’t see Kit in the state he was. She did not know what the injuries looked like, but she could only assume they were not pretty.

Anna kissed Alex’s head before he walked through the portal. Gideon and Henry were waiting on the other side. Her father’s brother looked older after the untimely death of his oldest daughter, Barbara. Nonetheless, he was smiling sadly as he watched Alex walk through, and took he hand.

Cecily was kissing Christopher forehead over and over while holding his face in her hands, repeating loving words in Welsh. She had practically flung herself at him, and didn’t seem to be letting go anytime soon. Christopher (who was dazed from the antidote) was confused when he saw his Mam with tears in her eyes, caressing his face (which was burning up) with her cold hands. Gabriel appeared behind her and put his hand on Kit’s head, stroking his hair softly. Christopher had suffered greatly when the poison was in his body. All he wanted was to have his father hold him close in his arms, like he used to do when he was younger. He wanted Mam to kiss him on the forehead like she does whenever he leaves the house. He wanted Anna to ruffle his hair and to tell him to stop ruining his clothes. He wanted to see Alex smile and Thomas’ company Uncle Henry’s lab. These happy memories ran through his head, as though to show how lonely he was.

He didn’t want to die alone.

“Kit,” Thomas had said, his voice hoarse as he gave him the antibody, “Kit, you did it, your antidote worked. Some Shadowhunters are already recovering.” Behind him Alastair stood there, watching. Kit did not understand why he was there, but he was not here anymore. Maybe hallucinations were a side effect; he had to write that down.

Now, his Mam had moved to embrace Thomas and then Matthew, who was taken by surprise. His Papa had moved to the side to make space for Anna, who was smiling widely at him.

“What happened, Kit?”

“Oh,” Christopher was confused. He turned to his father. “Did you not inform Anna that I was attacked by a demon?”

Gabriel and Anna laughed. Christopher was even more confused.

“Only you could find a cure for a disease, be on your deathbed while it’s being made and not understand something as simple as sarcasm.” Anna said.

Sarcasm. “I don’t like that word. It always confuses me.”

Anna and Gabriel laughed again. Cecily scolded them for confusing Christopher while he had been so close to death, not even an hour ago. Anna took his hand and laughed through her apology, which got Gabriel smiling. Christopher blinked. He was very confused.

Uncle Will and Aunt Tessa later came with Lucie. Though he enjoyed their company, Christopher didn’t exactly know why they were here. It felt like a reunion. Maybe he had died and this was heaven. Or hell. He couldn’t really tell without his glasses on.

“Am I dead?”

“Yes.” Anna said

Gabriel and Will both burst out laughing. Cecily elbowed Gabriel as he covered his mouth. Will looked at the ceiling, a wide smile across his face, trying to contain a laugh. Cecily had a murderous look on her face, before turning to Kit sweetly.

“No, Bach. Thankfully,” She turned and shot a look at Gabriel, “You are alive. Unfortunately, both your father and your Uncle Will act like children.”

“What about Anna? She was the reason we began laughing.” said Will.

“I thought you were the Cool Uncle, Will.” Anna said

“I would rather be Mean Uncle Will than have Cecily beat me up.”

“More like the Cowardly Uncle.” Tessa said.

Although everybody laughed, Will looked betrayed. Christopher patted his hand, which was resting on the bed frame, with his own.

Anna watched as Gabriel helped Kit walk up the stairs back to ground level. When they got there, James was still propped up against the tree, talking with Matthew. James Herondale looked as if he had fallen off of a tree on his face, onto pavement, and slid three blocks. And that was an understatement.

“Time to get up, Jamie bach.” Will said cheerfully as Jamie groaned.

“We probably should have gotten a carriage instead of coming by foot.” said Will.

James, who had his eyes closed until then, opened them wide. “Is that a joke?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

James looked over at Tessa.

“Sorry, Jamie.”

James winced as Will tried to get him on his feet.

“Don’t hurt him.” Tessa said.

Will threw a fake punch at James’ face causing Tessa to shake her head. Anna couldn’t help but notice how every time James winced, Will did as well, as though it caused him physical pain to watch his son struggle. Anna thought back at how Cecily had acted when Kit was dying. She couldn’t imagine how broken Sophie and Gideon were. To know that they will never see Barbara again. The thought felt like a dagger piercing Anna’s heart.

They all departed at the same time. Towards the back, Will was making terrible jokes, which induced several groans from James, Lucie and Matthew. Each step James took was labored and heavy, almost painfully to watch.  

Christopher walked along side Anna as they headed towards the house. The antidote worked perfectly, and her brother was soon walking without difficulty, though his chest must still be in pain.

“You scared us, Kit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Anna’s heart broke, “It was not your fault.”

“Oh,”

They were silent for a while. From a distance they could hear Will.

“You know Jamie, when you were a baby, I used to be afraid to drop you because you looked like me and was therefore so beautiful. But since your face is ugly and messed up, now I can drop you all I want! It won’t make a difference!” he said, swaying James slightly.

“Will, if you drop Jamie, I will divorce you.” said Tessa.

“I will approve of that divorce.” James said, wincing through each step.

Anna turned her attention back to Kit. “Alex really wanted to see you.”

Christopher looked around. “Where is he?”

“He’s with Uncle Gideon.”

“Oh.”

Anna looked around. Gabriel had an arm over Cecily and was holding her close to him as they walked. Thomas was talking with Lucie. Matthew was beside Will and James, there to help if they needed it, but as always, he seemed a bit distant. Tessa was looking worriedly as Will helped James walk. Despite all of his joking around, Will was supporting James with all of the care in the world.

“I’m glad you are here, Kit.”

“Me too. I was afraid I was going to die alone in the dark.”

Anna wrapped her arms around her brother.

“As long as I live, you will never die alone, Kit.”