#emma and julian would have been far worse

[karouvas]

I really was insufferable during djats era like how did ya’ll stand me…

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

It Can't Happen Here, Sinclair Lewis

Chapter 21-22

CHAPTER XXI

IT was not only the November sleet, setting up a forbidding curtain before the mountains, turning the roadways into slipperiness on which a car would swing around and crash into poles, that kept Doremus stubbornly at home that morning, sitting on his shoulder blades before the fireplace. It was the feeling that there was no point in going to the office; no chance even of a picturesque fight. But he was not contented before the fire. He could find no authentic news even in the papers from Boston or New York, in both of which the morning papers had been combined by the government into one sheet, rich in comic strips, in syndicated gossip from Hollywood, and, indeed, lacking only any news.

He cursed, threw down the New York Daily Corporate, and tried to read a new novel about a lady whose husband was indelicate in bed and who was too absorbed by the novels he wrote about lady novelists whose husbands were too absorbed by the novels they wrote about lady novelists to appreciate the fine sensibilities of lady novelists who wrote about gentleman novelists—Anyway, he chucked the book after the newspaper. The lady's woes didn't seem very important now, in a burning world.

He could hear Emma in the kitchen discussing with Mrs. Candy the best way of making a chicken pie. They talked without relief; really, they were not so much talking as thinking aloud. Doremus admitted that the nice making of a chicken pie was a thing of consequence, but the blur of voices irritated him. Then Sissy slammed into the room, and Sissy should an hour ago have been at high school, where she was a senior—to graduate next year and possibly go to some new and horrible provincial university.

"What ho! What are you doing home? Why aren't you in school?"

"Oh. That." She squatted on the padded fender seat, chin in hands, looking up at him, not seeing him. "I don't know 's I'll ever go there any more. You have to repeat a new oath every morning: 'I pledge myself to serve the Corporate State, the Chief, all Commissioners, the Mystic Wheel, and the troops of the Republic in every thought and deed.' Now I ask you! Is that tripe!"

"How you going to get into the university?"

"Huh! Smile at Prof Staubmeyer—if it doesn't gag me!"

"Oh, well—Well—" He could not think of anything meatier to say.

The doorbell, a shuffling in the hall as of snowy feet, and Julian Falck came sheepishly in.

Sissy snapped, "Well, I'll be—What are you doing home? Why aren't you in Amherst?"

"Oh. that." He squatted beside her. He absently held her hand, and she did not seem to notice it, either. "Amherst's got hers. Corpos closing it today. I got tipped off last Saturday and beat it. (They have a cute way of rounding up the students when they close a college and arresting a few of 'em, just to cheer up the profs.)" To Doremus: "Well, sir, I think you'll have to find a place for me on the Informer, wiping presses. Could you?"

"Afraid not, boy. Give anything if I could. But I'm a prisoner there. God! Just having to say that makes me appreciate what a rotten position I have!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I understand, of course. Well, I don't just know what I am going to do. Remember back in '33 and '34 and '35 how many good eggs there were—and some of them medics and law graduates and trained engineers and so on—that simply couldn't get a job? Well, it's worse now. I looked over Amherst, and had a try at Springfield, and I've been here in town two days—I'd hoped to have something before I saw you, Sis—why, I even asked Mrs. Pike if she didn't need somebody to wash dishes at the Tavern, but so far there isn't a thing. 'Young gentleman, two years in college, ninety-nine-point-three pure and thorough knowledge Thirty-nine Articles, able drive car, teach tennis and contract, amiable disposition, desires position—digging ditches.'"

"You will get something! I'll see you do, my poppet!" insisted Sissy. She was less modernistic and cold with Julian now than Doremus had thought her.

"Thanks, Sis, but honest to God—I hope I'm not whining, but looks like I'd either have to enlist in the lousy M.M.'s, or go to a labor camp. I can't stay home and sponge on Granddad. The poor old Reverend hasn't got enough to keep a pussycat in face powder."

"Lookit! Lookit!" Sissy clinched with Julian and bussed him, unabashed. "I've got an idea—a new stunt. You know, one of these 'New Careers for Youth' things. Listen! Last summer there was a friend of Lindy Pike's staying with her and she was an interior decorator from Buffalo, and she said they have a hell of a—"

("Siss-sy!")

"—time getting real, genuine, old hand-hewn beams that everybody wants so much now in these phony-Old-English suburban living rooms. Well, look! Round here there's ten million old barns with hand-adzed beams just falling down—farmers probably be glad to have you haul 'em off. I kind of thought about it for myself—being an architect, you know—and John Pollikop said he'd sell me a swell, dirty-looking old five-ton truck for four hundred bucks—in pre-inflation real money, I mean—and on time. Let's you and me try a load of assorted fancy beams."

"Swell!" said Julian.

"Well—" said Doremus.

"Come on!" Sissy leaped up. "Let's go ask Lindy what she thinks. She's the only one in this family that's got any business sense."

"I don't seem to hanker much after going out there in this weather— nasty roads," Doremus puffed.

"Nonsense, Doremus! With Julian driving? He's a poor speller and his back-hand is fierce, but as a driver, he's better than I am! Why, it's a pleasure to skid with him! Come on! Hey, Mother! We'll be back in nour or two."

If Emma ever got beyond her distant, "Why, I thought you were in school, already," none of the three musketeers heard it. They were bundling up and crawling out into the sleet.

Lorinda Pike was in the Tavern kitchen, in a calico print with rolled sleeves, dipping doughnuts into deep fat—a picture right out of the romantic days (which Buzz Windrip was trying to restore) when a female who had brought up eleven children and been midwife to dozens of cows was regarded as too fragile to vote. She was ruddy-faced from the stove, but she cocked a lively eye at them, and her greeting was "Have a doughnut? Good!" She led them from the kitchen with its attendant and eavesdropping horde of a Canuck kitchenmaid and two cats, and they sat in the beautiful butler's- pantry, with its shelved rows of Italian majolica plates and cups and saucers—entirely unsuitable to Vermont, attesting a certain artiness in Lorinda, yet by their cleanness and order revealing her as a sound worker. Sissy sketched her plan—behind the statistics there was an agreeable picture of herself and Julian, gipsies in khaki, on the seat of a gipsy truck, peddling silvery old pine rafters.

"Nope. Not a chance," said Lorinda regretfully. "The expensive suburban-villa business—oh, it isn't gone: there's a surprising number of middlemen and professional men who are doing quite well out of having their wealth taken away and distributed to the masses. But all the building is in the hands of contractors who are in politics—good old Windrip is so consistently American that he's kept up all our traditional graft, even if he has thrown out all our traditional independence. They wouldn't leave you one cent profit."

"She's probably right," said Doremus.

"Be the first time I ever was, then!" sniffed Lorinda. "Why, I was so simple that I thought women voters knew men too well to fall for noble words on the radio!"

They sat in the sedan, outside the Tavern; Julian and Sissy in front, Doremus in the back seat, dignified and miserable in mummy swathings.

"That's that," said Sissy. "Swell period for young dreamers the Dictator's brought in. You can march to military bands—or you can sit home—or you can go to prison. Primavera di Bellezza!"

"Yes.... Well, I'll find something to do.... Sissy, are you going to marry me—soon as I get a job?"

(It was incredible, thought Doremus, how these latter-day unsentimental sentimentalists could ignore him.... Like animals.)

"Before, if you want to. Though marriage seems to me absolute rot now, Julian. They can't go and let us see that every doggone one of our old institutions is a rotten fake, the way Church and State and everything has laid down to the Corpos, and still expect us to think they're so hot! But for unformed minds like your grandfather and Doremus, I suppose we'll have to pretend to believe that the preachers who stand for Big Chief Windrip are still so sanctified that they can sell God's license to love!"

("Sis-sy!")

"(Oh. I forgot you were there, Dad!) But anyway, we're not going to have any kids. Oh, I like children! I'd like to have a dozen of the little devils around. But if people have gone so soft and turned the world over to stuffed shirts and dictators, they needn't expect any decent woman to bring children into such an insane asylum! Why, the more you really do love children, the more you'll want 'em not to be born, now!"

Julian boasted, in a manner quite as lover-like and naïve as that of any suitor a hundred years ago, "Yes. But just the same, we'll be having children."

"Hell! I suppose so!" said the golden girl.

It was the unconsidered Doremus who found a job for Julian.

Old Dr. Marcus Olmsted was trying to steel himself to carry on the work of his sometime partner, Fowler Greenhill. He was not strong enough for much winter driving, and so hotly now did he hate the murderers of his friend that he would not take on any youngster who was in the M.M.'s or who had half acknowledged their authority by going to a labor camp. So Julian was chosen to drive him, night and day, and presently to help him by giving anesthetic, bandaging hurt legs; and the Julian who had within one week "decided that he wanted to be" an aviator, a music critic, an air-conditioning engineer, an archæologist excavating in Yucatan, was dead-set on medicine and replaced for Doremus his dead doctor son-in-law. And Doremus heard Julian and Sissy boasting and squabbling and squeaking in the half-lighted parlor and from them—from them and from David and Lorinda and Buck Titus—got resolution enough to go on in the Informer office without choking Staubmeyer to death.

CHAPTER XXII

DECEMBER 10th was the birthday of Berzelius Windrip, though in his earlier days as a politician, before he fruitfully realized that lies sometimes get printed and unjustly remembered against you, he had been wont to tell the world that his birthday was on December twenty-fifth, like one whom he admitted to be an even greater leader, and to shout, with real tears in his eyes, that his complete name was Berzelius Noel Weinacht Windrip.

His birthday in 1937 he commemorated by the historical "Order of Regulation," which stated that though the Corporate government had proved both its stability and its good-will, there were still certain stupid or vicious "elements" who, in their foul envy of Corpo success, wanted to destroy everything that was good. The kind-hearted government was fed-up, and the country was informed that, from this day on, any person who by word or act sought to harm or discredit the State, would be executed or interned. Inasmuch as the prisons were already too full, both for these slanderous criminals and for the persons whom the kind-hearted State had to guard by "protective arrest," there were immediately to be opened, all over the country, concentration camps.

Doremus guessed that the reason for the concentration camps was not only the provision of extra room for victims but, even more, the provision of places where the livelier young M.M.'s could amuse themselves without interference from old-time professional policemen and prison-keepers, most of whom regarded their charges not as enemies, to be tortured, but just as cattle, to be kept safely.

On the eleventh, a concentration camp was enthusiastically opened, with band music, paper flowers, and speeches by District Commissioner Reek and Shad Ledue, at Trianon, nine miles north of Fort Beulah, in what had been a modern experimental school for girls. (The girls and their teachers, no sound material for Corpoism anyway, were simply sent about their business.)

And on that day and every day afterward, Doremus got from journalist friends all over the country secret news of Corpo terrorism and of the first bloody rebellions against the Corpos.

In Arkansas, a group of ninety-six former sharecroppers, who had always bellyached about their misfortunes yet seemed not a bit happier in well-run, hygienic labor camps with free weekly band concerts, attacked the superintendent's office at one camp and killed the superintendent and five assistants. They were rounded up by an M.M. regiment from Little Rock, stood up in a winter-ragged cornfield, told to run, and shot in the back with machine guns as they comically staggered away.

In San Francisco, dock-workers tried to start an absolutely illegal strike, and their leaders, known to be Communists, were so treasonable in their speeches against the government that an M.M. commander had three of them tied up to a bale of rattan, which was soaked with oil and set afire. The Commander gave warning to all such malcontents by shooting off the criminals' fingers and ears while they were burning, and so skilled a marksman was he, so much credit to the efficient M.M. training, that he did not kill one single man while thus trimming them up. He afterward went in search of Tom Mooney (released by the Supreme Court of the United States, early in 1936), but that notorious anti-Corpo agitator had had the fear of God put into him properly, and had escaped on a schooner for Tahiti.

In Pawtucket, a man who ought to have been free from the rotten seditious notions of such so-called labor-leaders, in fact a man who was a fashionable dentist and director in a bank, absurdly resented the attentions which half-a-dozen uniformed M.M.'s—they were all on leave, and merely full of youthful spirits, anyway— bestowed upon his wife at a café and, in the confusion, shot and killed three of them. Ordinarily, since it was none of the public's business anyway, the M.M.'s did not give out details of their disciplining of rebels, but in this case, where the fool of a dentist had shown himself to be a homicidal maniac, the local M.M. commander permitted the papers to print the fact that the dentist had been given sixty-nine lashes with a flexible steel rod, then, when he came to, left to think over his murderous idiocy in a cell in which there was two feet of water in the bottom—but, rather ironically, none to drink. Unfortunately, the fellow died before having the opportunity to seek religious consolation.

In Scranton, the Catholic pastor of a working-class church was kidnaped and beaten.

In central Kansas, a man named George W. Smith pointlessly gathered a couple of hundred farmers armed with shotguns and sporting rifles and an absurdly few automatic-pistols, and led them in burning an M.M. barracks. M.M. tanks were called out, and the hick would-be rebels were not, this time, used as warnings, but were overcome with mustard gas, then disposed of with hand grenades, which was an altogether intelligent move, since there was nothing of the scoundrels left for sentimental relatives to bury and make propaganda over.

But in New York City the case was the opposite—instead of being thus surprised, the M.M.'s rounded up all suspected Communists in the former boroughs of Manhattan and the Bronx, and all persons who were reported to have been seen consorting with such Communists, and interned the lot of them in the nineteen concentration camps on Long Island.... Most of them wailed that they were not Communists at all.

For the first time in America, except during the Civil War and the World War, people were afraid to say whatever came to their tongues. On the streets, on trains, at theaters, men looked about to see who might be listening before they dared so much as say there was a drought in the West, for someone might suppose they were blaming the drought on the Chief! They were particularly skittish about waiters, who were supposed to listen from the ambush which every waiter carries about with him anyway, and to report to the M.M.'s. People who could not resist talking politics spoke of Windrip as "Colonel Robinson" or "Dr. Brown" and of Sarason as "Judge Jones" or "my cousin Kaspar," and you would hear gossips hissing "Shhh!" at the seemingly innocent statement, "My cousin doesn't seem to be as keen on playing bridge with the Doctor as he used to—I'll bet sometime they'll quit playing."

Every moment everyone felt fear, nameless and omnipresent. They were as jumpy as men in a plague district. Any sudden sound, any unexplained footstep, any unfamiliar script on an envelope, made them startle; and for months they never felt secure enough to let themselves go, in complete sleep. And with the coming of fear went out their pride.

Daily—common now as weather reports—were the rumors of people who had suddenly been carried off "under protective arrest," and daily more of them were celebrities. At first the M.M.'s had, outside of the one stroke against Congress, dared to arrest only the unknown and defenseless. Now, incredulously—for these leaders had seemed invulnerable, above the ordinary law—you heard of judges, army officers, ex-state governors, bankers who had not played in with the Corpos, Jewish lawyers who had been ambassadors, being carted off to the common stink and mud of the cells.

To the journalist Doremus and his family it was not least interesting that among these imprisoned celebrities were so many journalists: Raymond Moley, Frank Simonds, Frank Kent, Heywood Broun, Mark Sullivan, Earl Browder, Franklin P. Adams, George Seldes, Frazier Hunt, Garet Garrett, Granville Hicks, Edwin James, Robert Morss Lovett—men who differed grotesquely except in their common dislike of being little disciples of Sarason and Macgoblin.

Few writers for Hearst were arrested, however.

The plague came nearer to Doremus when unrenowned editors in Lowell and Providence and Albany, who had done nothing more than fail to be enthusiastic about the Corpos, were taken away for "questioning," and not released for weeks—months.

It came much nearer at the time of the book-burning.

All over the country, books that might threaten the Pax Romana of the Corporate State were gleefully being burned by the more scholarly Minute Men. This form of safeguarding the State—so modern that it had scarce been known prior to A.D. 1300—was instituted by Secretary of Culture Macgoblin, but in each province the crusaders were allowed to have the fun of picking out their own paper-and-ink traitors. In the Northeastern Province, Judge Effingham Swan and Dr. Owen J. Peaseley were appointed censors by Commissioner Dewey Haik, and their index was lyrically praised all through the country.

For Swan saw that it was not such obvious anarchists and soreheads as Darrow, Steffens, Norman Thomas, who were the real danger; like rattlesnakes, their noisiness betrayed their venom. The real enemies were men whose sanctification by death had appallingly permitted them to sneak even into respectable school libraries—men so perverse that they had been traitors to the Corpo State years and years before there had been any Corpo State; and Swan (with Peaseley chirping agreement) barred from all sale or possession the books of Thoreau, Emerson, Whittier, Whitman, Mark Twain, Howells, and The New Freedom, by Woodrow Wilson, for though in later life Wilson became a sound manipulative politician, he had earlier been troubled with itching ideals.

It goes without saying that Swan denounced all such atheistic foreigners, dead or alive, as Wells, Marx, Shaw, the Mann brothers, Tolstoy, and P. G. Wodehouse with his unscrupulous propaganda against the aristocratic tradition. (Who could tell? Perhaps, some day, in a corporate empire, he might be Sir Effingham Swan, Bart.)

And in one item Swan showed blinding genius—he had the foresight to see the peril of that cynical volume, The Collected Sayings of Will Rogers.

Of the book-burnings in Syracuse and Schenectady and Hartford, Doremus had heard, but they seemed improbable as ghost stories.

The Jessup family were at dinner, just after seven, when on the porch they heard the tramping they had half expected, altogether dreaded. Mrs. Candy—even the icicle, Mrs. Candy, held her breast in agitation before she stalked out to open the door. Even David sat at table, spoon suspended in air.

Shad's voice, "In the name of the Chief!" Harsh feet in the hall, and Shad waddling into the dining room, cap on, hand on pistol, but grinning, and with leering geniality bawling, "H' are yuh, folks! Search for bad books. Orders of the District Commissioner. Come on, Jessup!" He looked at the fireplace to which he had once brought so many armfuls of wood, and snickered.

"If you'll just sit down in the other room—"

"I will like hell 'just sit down in the other room'! We're burning the books tonight! Snap to it, Jessup!" Shad looked at the exasperated Emma; he looked at Sissy; he winked with heavy deliberation and chuckled, "H' are you, Mis' Jessup. Hello, Sis. How's the kid?"

But at Mary Greenhill he did not look, nor she at him.

In the hall, Doremus found Shad's entourage, four sheepish M.M.'s and a more sheepish Emil Staubmeyer, who whimpered, "Just orders— you know—just orders."

Doremus safely said nothing; led them up to his study.

Now a week before he had removed every publication that any sane Corpo could consider radical: his Das Kapital and Veblen and all the Russian novels and even Sumner's Folkways and Freud's Civilization and Its Discontents; Thoreau and the other hoary scoundrels banned by Swan; old files of the Nation and New Republic and such copies as he had been able to get of Walt Trowbridge's Lance for Democracy; had removed them and hidden them inside an old horsehair sofa in the upper hall.

"I told you there was nothing," said Staubmeyer, after the search. "Let's go."

Said Shad, "Huh! I know this house, Ensign. I used to work here— had the privilege of putting up those storm windows you can see there, and of getting bawled out right here in this room. You won't remember those times, Doc—when I used to mow your lawn, too, and you used to be so snotty!" Staubmeyer blushed. "You bet. I know my way around, and there's a lot of fool books downstairs in the sittin' room."

Indeed in that apartment variously called the drawing room, the living room, the sittin' room, the Parlor and once, even, by a spinster who thought editors were romantic, the studio, there were two or three hundred volumes, mostly in "standard sets." Shad glumly stared at them, the while he rubbed the faded Brussels carpet with his spurs. He was worried. He had to find something seditious!

He pointed at Doremus's dearest treasure, the thirty-four-volume extra-illustrated edition of Dickens which had been his father's, and his father's only insane extravagance. Shad demanded of Staubmeyer, "That guy Dickens—didn't he do a lot of complaining about conditions—about schools and the police and everything?"

Staubmeyer protested, "Yes, but Shad—but, Captain Ledue, that was a hundred years ago—"

"Makes no difference. Dead skunk stinks worse 'n a live one."

Doremus cried, "Yes, but not for a hundred years! Besides—"

The M.M.'s, obeying Shad's gesture, were already yanking the volumes of Dickens from the shelves, dropping them on the floor, covers cracking. Doremus seized an M.M.'s arm; from the door Sissy shrieked. Shad lumbered up to him, enormous red fist at Doremus's nose, growling, "Want to get the daylights beaten out of you now... instead of later?"

Doremus and Sissy, side by side on a couch, watched the books thrown in a heap. He grasped her hand, muttering to her, "Hush— hush!" Oh, Sissy was a pretty girl, and young, but a pretty girl schoolteacher had been attacked, her clothes stripped off, and been left in the snow just south of town, two nights ago.

Doremus could not have stayed away from the book-burning. It was like seeing for the last time the face of a dead friend.

Kindling, excelsior, and spruce logs had been heaped on the thin snow on the Green. (Tomorrow there would be a fine patch burned in the hundred-year-old sward.) Round the pyre danced M.M.'s schoolboys, students from the rather ratty business college on Elm Street, and unknown farm lads, seizing books from the pile guarded by the broadly cheerful Shad and skimming them into the flames. Doremus saw his Martin Chuzzlewit fly into air and land on the burning lid of an ancient commode. It lay there open to a Phiz drawing of Sairey Gamp, which withered instantly. As a small boy he had always laughed over that drawing.

He saw the old rector, Mr. Falck, squeezing his hands together. When Doremus touched his shoulder, Mr. Falck mourned, "They took away my Urn Burial, my Imitatio Christi. I don't know why, I don't know why! And they're burning them there!"

Who owned them, Doremus did not know, nor why they had been seized, but he saw Alice in Wonderland and Omar Khayyám and Shelley and The Man Who Was Thursday and A Farewell to Arms all burning together, to the greater glory of the Dictator and the greater enlightenment of his people.

The fire was almost over when Karl Pascal pushed up to Shad Ledue and shouted, "I hear you stinkers—I've been out driving a guy, and I hear you raided my room and took off my books while I was away!"

"You bet we did, Comrade!"

"And you're burning them—burning my—"

"Oh no, Comrade! Not burning 'em. Worth too blame much, Comrade." Shad laughed very much. "They're at the police station. We've just been waiting for you. It was awful nice to find all your little Communist books. Here! Take him along!"

So Karl Pascal was the first prisoner to go from Fort Beulah to the Trianon Concentration Camp—no; that's wrong; the second. The first, so inconspicuous that one almost forgets him, was an ordinary fellow, an electrician who had never so much as spoken of politics. Brayden, his name was. A Minute Man who stood well with Shad and Staubmeyer wanted Brayden's job. Brayden went to concentration camp. Brayden was flogged when he declared, under Shad's questioning, that he knew nothing about any plots against the Chief. Brayden died, alone in a dark cell, before January.

An English globe-trotter who gave up two weeks of December to a thorough study of "conditions" in America, wrote to his London paper, and later said on the wireless for the B.B.C.: "After a thorough glance at America I find that, far from there being any discontent with the Corpo administration among the people, they have never been so happy and so resolutely set on making a Brave New World. I asked a very prominent Hebrew banker about the assertions that his people were being oppressed, and he assured me, 'When we hear about such silly rumors, we are highly amused.'"

[bookishjules]

A Blackstairs Lens on "Don't Blame Me" by Taylor Swift

Don't blame me, love made me crazy

this is a theme we're gonna see a lot through this song (obviously, since this is a repeating line lol), and which I think is so apt for Emma and Julian. Love DID make them crazy in a way, since it was tainted? exaggerated? both? by their parabatai bond, and it was never something they intended. They can't be blamed for falling in love and thereby amplifying the powers of the parabatai bond and turning into literal angels. Also Julian's room full of paintings of Emma ALONE

If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right

not only does this feel like a realization Emma had when comparing Julian to Cameron, but it also feels like something Emma and Jules came to terms with after denying their feelings for each other to such great extents

Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

the fact that the more time these two spend together, the curse thing got worse.. also I don't think there is another ship in tsc that's as addicted to eachother (physically or otherwise) as these two, which could in itself be an influence of the parabatai curse that lingers

I've been breakin' hearts a long time, and

the hearts they're breaking are each other's and their own. We see this in the decisions they make: deciding to become parabatai even though romantic feelings had already begun to blossom, choosing to date Mark, choosing to have Magnus take away your emotions.

Toyin' with them older guys

Just playthings for me to use

not only does this continue the relevance to Emma pretending to be with Mark, but I think it could also relate to how Julian is constantly playing with the big leagues. He's fooling everyone and using carefully placed moves and deceit to ensure that things come out the way he wants, that his family is safe.

Something happened for the first time,

In the darkest little paradise

Shakin, pacin', I just need you

This is Lady Midnight in summation--Emma realizing her feelings for Jules, their first time in the cave--and then later, the anxiety and mess of emotions that came with the discovery of the true consequences of falling in love as parabatai

For you, I would cross the line

the line between best friends and parabatai? between parabatai and lovers? the line that says don't date the brother of the guy you just had sex with? the line of having your emotions stripped by magic? or perhaps simply the proverbial line between morally right and wrong? let's face it these two would do anything for each other (especially Jules).

I would waste my time

I would lose my mind

They say she's gone too far this time

I think its a big thing for Julian to waste time. He's responsible for so much, and yet he will waste his time for Emma, he'll let himself get caught up in whatever she wants. I don't think I need to reiterate about how they pretty much did lose their minds for eachother lol

My name is whatever you decide

it's the way Emma didn't feel like she could call Julian Jules anymore after they slept together

And I'm just gonna call you mine

because really is there any better word when you don't know where one facet of your relationship stops and the other begins? Plus, back when trying to hide that they were together together.. well saying you're eachother's soulmate could be interpretated as completely platonic when you have a parabatai

I'm insane, but I'm your baby (your baby)

Echoes of your name inside my mind

Halo, hiding my obsession

When the most Julian had of Emma was the way he could say her name in his mind, how he couldn't fill it with all the love that had been bound to it for years.. And the way he literally hid his obsession behind closed doors

I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy

They really were poison ivy to eachother, a growing obsession, dangerous to touch but crawling closer and closer all the time. Also I just love imagining Emma as a daisy (funny that she's related to Daisy to hehe). I think @lifeofbrybooks put it so well, how Emma is like a wildflower to Jules: "beautiful and strong, able to grow and flourish in even the harshest conditions"

And baby, for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

them every time they give in to their feelings for each other while parabatai

If you walk away

I'd beg you on my knees to stay

This makes me so sad to think about, especially considering we've seen insecurities along these lines rear their head even after they've been together for a while

I get so high, oh

Every time, yeah every time you're lovin' me

You're lovin' me

Trip of my life, oh

Every time, yeah every time you're touchin' me

You're touchin' me

these horny bitches

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

Ok soooooo… @raziyekroos and I were talking about this post on @khaleesiofalicante’s blog (quick disclaimer - don’t fucking send anyone ANY hate. I’m not criticising the asker in the post or Dani, anyway. Most of my criticisms are directed at Cassandra Clare. But yeah. If I see any hate going around I’ll whoop your ass. I’m serious.)

ANYWAY, back to the point, I… have some beef with the fact that “Alec killed himself because Sebastian was hunting him down for information otherwise he would’ve fought on even after he lost everything” is supoosed to be irrecoverably canon cause… BISH WHERE??

WHERE IS IT CANON???

Sorry about the caps. We’re returning to lowercase now.

Let’s start with Qoaad, the book where we found out about Thule, about everything that happened in Thule.

Starting with this scene:

“Magnus Bane was one of the first great tragedies,” said Livvy as if she were reciting an old story everyone knew. “Bane realized he was turning into a demon. He begged his boyfriend, Alexander Lightwood, to kill him. Alec did, and then turned the sword on himself. Their bodies were found together in the ruins of New York.”

Julian had gone whiter than paper. Emma put her head down, feeling like she might faint.

Magnus and Alec, who had always been a symbol of all that was good, so horribly gone.

This is where we find out that Magnus was killed by Alec, and then Alec killed himself. We don’t know anything about Alec’s motivations, or why he killed himself.

But we do get an idea in this scene:

Clary sighed. “Jace hates being away from Alec at times like this. There isn’t anything he can do, but I understand wanting to be with your parabatai when they’re suffering. I’d want to be with Simon.”

“It’s not like he’s there just for himself,” Emma said. The sky was dark blue and chased with fading clouds. “I’m sure it’s better for Alec, having him there. I mean, I think part of what was so awful for the Alec in Thule was that he must have felt so alone when he lost Magnus. So many of his friends were already dead, and his parabatai was worse than dead.”

Clary shuddered. “We should talk about something more cheerful.”

Emma clearly says that losing Magnus, along with several other friends and his parabatai was what drove Thule!Alec to suicide. Clary doesn’t deny it either - in fact, her reaction suggests the opposite, like she sees exactly what Emma means and she understands. Neither of them know about Alec having information about the resistance and about Sebastian looking for him. They’re not confused about why Thule!Alec did what he did, they’re not questioning his motives or thinking “Alec wouldn’t do something like that, there must be something more to it”

Okay, moving on- we also have this scene

“Okay, let’s talk about the important part.” Magnus turned to Alec with a furious look on his face. “You killed yourself? Why would you do that?”

Alec looked startled. “That wasn’t me,” he pointed out. “It’s an alternate universe, Magnus!”

Magnus grabbed Alec by the front of his shirt. “If I die, you are not allowed to do anything like that! Who would take care of our kids? How could you do that to them?”

“We never had kids in that world!” Alec protested.

“Where are Rafe and Max?” Emma whispered to Cristina.

“Simon and Isabelle are looking after them in New York. Alec checks in every day to see if Max is getting sick, but he seems fine so far,” Cristina whispered back.

“You are not allowed to hurt yourself, under any circumstances,” Magnus said, his voice gruff. “Do you understand that, Alexander?”

“I would never,” Alec said softly, stroking Magnus’s cheek. Magnus clasped Alec’s hand against his face. “Never.”

They all looked away, letting Magnus and Alec have their moment in privacy.

Magnus’s reaction in these scene says a LOT. There’s the fact that he’s seen Alec’s self-sacrificing part before ofc, but it’s undeniable that here, he sees Alec killing himself, in a landscape like Thule, as a very real possibility - enough that it SCARES him.

Magnus isn’t questioning it either. Magnus isn’t saying “That doesn’t sound like my Alexander, are you sure there’s nothing more?”

There’s NOTHING in any of these scenes from qoaad that suggests that Alec killed himself not out of hopelessness after he lost Magnus but because he knew Sebastian was after him for information. NOTHING.

Now, note that qoaad is part of the main canon. It goes without saying, and Cassie knows this too, that the main series (tmi, tid, tda, tlh, and later twp) are… slightly more canon than the other books (tbc, tftsa, gotsm and tec), in that the first set of books has a much wider audience. People are more likely to read them than the second set of books, which act more like a side to the main series. These books are more likely to be read by fans interested in knowing more about their favourite characters than the mainstream audience.

Sooo… if Cassie wants Thule!Alec’s motivations to be clear, why not just put it in qoaad? It would’ve been like, one extra line? Why put it in the side course instead of the main dish? There’s a lot of people who will just read tda without reading gotsm. They’re all gonna believe that Alec died because he was hopeless and not because of any heroic sacrificial reasons. If Cassie wants “Alec killed his self because of Sebastian hunting him down” to be the unequivocal truth, why not just put it in qoaad? Why put it in gotsm?

Speaking of which, let’s look at the side dish gotsm. Keep in mind here, that Forever Fallen, the short story in which this takes place, was released more than SIX MONTHS after qoaad came out, enough time to make small edits and add in some details, and definitely more than enough time to review people’s reactions and see what they thought about Thule!Alec. (I’m not accusing Cassie of anything, I’m just speculating here)

THIS is the scene that reveals Thule!Alec’s supposedly true reasons for killing himself.

Janus remembered another world. Alec had still been clinging to what Magnus had become, at the very last. Those strong scarred archer’s hands, always swift to protect and defend, held him fast. Even in death, there seemed no way to break Alec’s grip.

Janus hadn’t had the chance to take Clary in his arms one last time, as Alec had with Magnus. Janus understood the choice his parabatai had made, the only choice he could’ve made with evil on his threshold and all he loved in ruins.

When Janus and Sebastian found them lying together in the rubble, Sebastian had been furious. He had wanted to capture Alec alive. Alec knew secrets about the resistance, about small pockets of hidden free humans: information Sebastian craved and that Alec had died to hide.

With a howl, Sebastian had kicked at Alec’s body. The desolate lack where the parabatai bond had been screamed. It was one of the few times Janus was able to think, Kill him.

Okay so hmm… where do I begin.

Janus says that Alec died to protect secrets about the resistance from Sebastian, and I’m not arguing with that of course. Sebastian was definitely part of why Thule!Alec did what he did.

BUT, in the paragraph that comes right before that, Janus acknowledges that losing Magnus, along with a lot of other people and things that Alec loved, was part of what drove him to killing himself.

Also, there’s this paragraph from Forever Fallen…

Max, thought Janus. Long ago, the youngest Lightwood. In this world Magnus was alive, so Alec was alive. Alec was the Consul, and they had children. Alec had named his son for that lost Max.

…which pretty much confirms that Alec would NOT have killed himself if Magnus hadn’t died first.

Like, yes, gotsm says that Alec killed himself because of Sebastian hunting him down, but ALSO because he lost a lot, including Magnus.

Now, again, this begs the question, why not just put it in qoaad? If everyone knows about how Magnus and Alec died without having been there, surely they’d also know that they were being hunted by Sebastian? Cameron had insider information since his family was sworn to Sebastian, surely he’d know that Sebastian was looking for Alec? If Magnus and Alec knew they were being hunted, surely everyone else in the resistance would know, too?

It feels almost as if this explanation - that Alec killed himself because he knew he’d be forced to give up information if he lived - was an afterthought. Created in response to backlash, maybe? This isn’t the first time that Cassie had a character with a tragic life kill themself after their partner died and then backtracked on the suicide part to make them look more ‘noble’ instead (*cough* Celine *cough*)

Anyway, speaking of afterthoughts and backlash, there’s also this ask on Cassie’s tumblr

What Cassie is basically saying here is that Thule!Alec wouldn’t have killed himself, no matter what he lost, and only did so because Sebastian was hunting him buuut um *looks at the scenes I added above* it kinda disagrees with her own books?

Like, if Alec only killed himself to protect the resistance then… why isn’t it more explicit in the books? Why mention again and again how Alec lost everything, and especially how he lost Magnus? Why is it in a fucking tumblr post that only die-hard fans are going to see, Cassandra? 🤨

Like I said, it feels SO MUCH like an afterthought.

And also like… about a lot of the fandom’s attitude towards Thule!Alec… so what if he didn’t sacrifice himself and committed suicide instead? So what? Why should it make him any less of a hero?

Like… I’m not gonna say it’s romantic that Thule!Alec committed suicide after he killed Thule!Magnus because it wasn’t. It was tragic and cruel and it’s MEANT to be tragic and cruel cause that’s the whole point of Thule! And it’s not entirely black and white like… Alec killed himself because he lost Magnus. Alec killed himself because he lost a lot. Alec killed himself because Sebastian was hunting him down for information. It all coexists!!

Saying that Thule!Alec only killed himself because of Seb and that it’s canon is… well, incorrect, cause it’s BARELY canon. The author had to confirm it in a tumblr post. Meanwhile, the books provide plenty of evidence that Alec losing a lot of people, especially Magnus, had a huge role to play in his decision.

Also, Thule!Alec committing suicide doesn’t take away from his character in any way. It doesn’t make him any less of a hero, any less of a badass, any less of ANYTHING, and saying otherwise is just… ????

Anyway, yeah. If you’ve read this far you get a cookie. Thanks.

[starlight-in-my-eyes]

Hope for Dark Wings

A fanfic for twp where Ash reaches Magnus for help

Tag list- 

@shadowhuntingdemigod @bookeater34 @wannabe-warlock @queenlilith43

@adoravel-fenomeno @thomaslightwood  @patriwinterviolette

Dm me if u wanna be tagged or removed :)

Rough day ahead, Magnus thought glumly as he waved Alec goodbye. Jace had taken his little blueberry and Raph for training – whatever training 2 little boys could do but both of them wanted to go with their Uncle Jace. He had closed the door and was just about to go make coffee when he heard a light tap on the door, it was faint but someone had surely knocked it. He peeped through the – well, peephole and saw a hooded figure. A normal person would have rung the bell. He gathered his magic in his hands and made a barrier that wouldn’t allow the intruder to enter without his permission.

“What do you want?” he called

“I am looking for Magnus Bane” the voice was male and young; his voice carried a faint British accent.

“He checked the many wards he had put up when he and Alec had initially started living here and found himself opening the door surprisingly; he should not have done that.

“I am not in working hours right now. Though I am not in working hours anytime of the day for a mysteriously hooded person bear that in mind-”

The hooded figure pulled down the hood of his cloak and Magnus stood gawking at the blond boy. Years of being alive had supressed his curiosity in many things but now all that he could do was stare for all that he knew that this could be an Eidolon demon. Every cell in his body screamed for him to do something, raise an alarm probably but this demon or boy could not hurt him, not with the wards and him standing outside of the house. He gave himself time to relax and looked in the eyes of the boy. Green eyes. But his eyes did not remind him of the Seelie Queen who was all wicked and barbaric instead, they reminded him of his little Biscuit’s during the months of war and when she had no love. A name ran through his mind, Ash Morgenstern. Ash. Ruins. Devastation. But looking at the boy he could not think how someone soo broken can cause much destruction, but then again a broken glass is what makes you bleed.

“I want your help Magnus.” His voice broke Magnus from his reverie. “I don’t know anybody here and who to ask for help, so I came to you hoping that you would be kind. I know you have no reason to trust me but I swear on Fairyland and by the Angel that I will do no harm to you and the people you love. Please please Magnus, I know nobody else I can go to”

His voice sounded soo desperate and soo broken that Magnus couldn’t help but remember helping two other blue-eyed boys. The difference now was that he trusted those two, this one, he did not.

And yet everyone deserved a chance to prove themselves, Magnus had learned. So, he let the boy in but did not set down the wards or his guard.

“Explain” he said.

So the boy did. He told Magnus about how he and the Jace from the other realm: Thule had managed their way here and how Jace was the only person he had. He told him about what the other Jace wanted: Clary, that surprisingly did not shock Magnus. And then he told him about the deal the other Jace had made with the Seelie Queen.

Everybody had been apprehensive of the future but that was because of the Cohort. Nobody could have expected this. Nobody. He was aware his expression to Ash did not change as Ash continued his story but, on the inside, he felt the need to do something, go to Alec and tell him everything, take his little children and lock them in a cellar. He wanted to run to Jace and Clary and tell them everything so they can be prepared but he remained seated on the sofa in front of this boy who seemed shattered, it was as if he had gathered his tiniest broken pieces he could bring himself to gather and mustered all the courage he had to come to him for help.

He realized that Magnus was not the only one who had taken a great risk in allowing Ash inside. Ash also had no reason to trust Magnus as well. He saw Ash wipe away a tear hastily. Magnus knew what it felt to lose the only person you had and worse was that Ash hadn’t lost the other Jace, rather he had turned and taken a path that Ash could not. Ash did not like his mother that much was significant. He also did not approve of a Jace killing the another Jace, and that told Magnus more about Ash than anybody could have guessed.

“You must have heard about me from Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn, you know there’s these incantations on me that make people love and protect me. Jace did not love me, he was merely under a spell. I knew this spell wouldn’t work on you as you’re a child of a Prince of Hell so I came to you. I want you to help me get that charm off me. I am tired of people helping me because they have to, I want someone to love the real me”

Magnus considered. He didn’t have experience with this kinds of spell but then again, most things he did were completely new, such as with Alec. He said he’ll help Ash but also, he’ll tell his friends about their meeting, this will not remain a secret. Ash will not remain a secret. Ash agreed.  

“I just don’t want to meet anybody until the charm is off me. They may come to love me and when we remove the spell all those false feelings will become dust and I’ll have to begin with them again, better not start now” Despite the sorrow in his voice he seemed a little hopeful.  

Magnus understood, “Where will you go and how can I reach you if I don’t know where I can find you?”

“I don’t know where I’ll be going now. Um..you know there are these things called cell phones.....you may not be aware of them but these are small rectangular box like structures and we can use them to contact people very far away.......”

Despite everything, Magnus found a smile creep up his mouth.

~~

Thanks for reading This was my first fanfic ever so if u liked it please appreciate, I’ll feel motivated

[kit-herondale-carstairs]

TDA Characters on TikTok

Julian: doesn’t post very often because he is a father but when he does it is always him painting or drawing something with lofi music or him sharing a tidbit about one of the children or other family members (Kieran, Cristina, Diana, Emma and Aline included and always with their explicit permission). 

- He’s very popular without even trying and most assume he is a young single father (which isn’t wrong).

-  Mostly finds himself on cottagecore or parent side of tiktok. 

- doesn’t understand all the thirsty comments he gets because “I don’t even show my face, Emma, why would they think I’m attractive?” but always shares them with Emma because they make her laugh.

Emma: Does it for the girls and the gays, that’s it. Posts nearly every day and page is generally a mixture of self defense videos, vintage makeup/dress tutorials, and videos slamming the patriarchy but also always does the latest dancing videos and other trends.

- always tries to get others to join in on her trend videos, mostly joined by Mark and Cristina when she can rope her in.

- Nearly broke tiktok when she got Julian to do the “You could have been nicer to me” trend because NO ONE KNEW THEY WERE DATING  AND EVEN THOUGH THEY COULDN’T SEE HIS FACE EVERYONE RECOGNIZED HIS VOICE AND HE WAS SO SWEET WHEN HE OFFERED TO TAKE HER TO HER FAVORITE THRIFT STORE AND BUY HER SOME DRESSES AFTER HE PUT THE “BABY” DOWN FOR HIS NAP. 

- - everyone knows the “baby” is actually at least seven but no one ever said his name because he’s too young so everyone collectively knows him as “the baby”

- solidly on gay tiktok even though she’s straight. 

Mark: Daily blogs. Everyone thinks he’s shit posting because it’s all wild things like standing in a middle of a circle of flowers and talking about “this pixie named Aelia lives here and she’s a BITCH”. Often shows videos of him cooking or baking wild concoctions that range from “Okay, I’d try that” to “this is why God has abandoned us”. 

- Does dancing videos with Emma all the time and often acts as the “creeper” in her self defense videos. 

- Caused a meltdown on tiktok when he casually mentioned his “partners” and started creating videos to raise awareness for polyamory. 

- Revealed Julian was his brother when he posted a video of Julian yelling at him for a solid minute because “the baby is covered in honey, why is the baby covered in honey, Mark? We don’t let the baby bathe in honey even if he really wants to Mark -” 

- solidly on cooking and gay tiktok, often takes a sharp left into “crackhead” tiktok

Kieran: Posts videos of cats he finds and rates them. The lowest ever was a 9.5/10 because “she bit me fairly hard but I scared her and I deserved it for trying to pet her without permission”. 

- does not do any trends or reveal much personal information. 

- Was always considered wholesome until he (on a dare from Dru) posted a video joking about choking a bossy sub that rounded up on kinktok. 

-- everyone went through a brief freak out trying to figure out if he had a partner but it was never solved. 

--- No one noticed that Mark posted a video joking about how “one of his partners was absolutely in the doghouse” accompanied by someone sitting in a cardboard ‘doghouse’ around the exact same time. 

- solidly on animal tiktok but occasionally veers into kinktok with more (less explicit) dom/sub humor. 

Cristina: Does not have her own tiktok but often appears in videos with Emma and occasionally shows up in Mark’s. 

- Absolute sweetheart always, even when she is demonstrating a self defense move with Emma, and is always commended for trying Mark’s foods. 

-- especially commended when trying the foods while, offscreen, their other partner yells about “Hell food” 

- is flattered with all the comments begging her to start her own tiktok but doesn’t feel like she has the time to fully commit to one properly. 

Livvy: (She’s alive, don’t @ me) Does absolutely all the new trends and also does various acting POVs 

- her soulmate POVs are most popular but she also is known for dueting act-along POVS with other popular creators

- also occasionally posts videos rating the best male actors/superheroes and once got into a long drawn out back to back war with someone on whether or not Captain America really had “America’s ass” 

- had a very popular multiple-part series about being a girl in the MCU dating the various Avengers but ended it abruptly after Endgame because “Natasha Romanoff deserved better and it hurts too much”

-she used to post occasional videos where she laments on being the “only single person in the family” but she started getting some very creepy duets and comments from actual adults so she told Julian and they both agreed it would be better for her to stop them

-- Julian did take the time to duet the people being inappropriate and explained very clearly that their actions were wrong and directed towards a LITERAL CHILD and shamed multiple accounts into flat out deleting

Ty: Posts literally whatever interests him. Has two animal series - one where he shares facts about his favorite kinds of animals and one where he showcases various animals he’s found in the tidepools or around the house. 

- has done several video series of rescuing animals and has at least one where Julian could be heard lecturing him on trying to raise wild animals in his bedroom again 

-- tiktok freaked out because this happened right around the same time as Julian calling out all the creeps on Livvy’s tiktok and no one knew that the twins he talked about were them  

- also does videos about his favorite literary works - notably Sherlock Holmes - and true crime/mystery videos 

-- he always makes sure to carefully put in warnings for anything remotely violent or triggering and has never had a single video taken down for violating the rules even when he did a multiple part series on the Black Dahlia and how her crime was ‘absolutely solved but because the man who did it was rich and white, he got away with it and probably also killed at least two other women, one of whom was killed in the Philippines” 

-  sometimes does twin videos with Livvy because she likes them and it makes her happy. 

Dru: Queen of witch/horror/true crime tiktok. 

- got in trouble with Julian for showing actual runes in videos but everyone just thought they were for the aesthetic so it was fine

- most popular videos is a series where she rates horror movies on how they do on the bechdel test 

- sometimes duets Ty’s or Livvy’s videos just to drag them (with love) 

- Has a very popular series on “women who snapped” and is known for almost rarely during part 2s (and therefore having to speak very very fast) 

- also complains constantly because her videos will get taken down even if they aren’t that violent and includes clips from far worse videos from male creators to point out the double standard

- occasionally dives into tiktok drama just to dabble and then sits on the sidelines and watches it happen

-- 100% built a balloon arch to flex on That Balloon Girl 

- solidly on witchtok and horrortok

Kit: King of petty/messy tiktok who also posts random videos about crime and occasional blogs

- switches from either sharing no information to borderline oversharing childhood trauma

- shares videos on borderline illegal ways to get back at exfriends/expartners/exfamily members/general enemies 

-- putting fish in people’s vents, subscribing them to magazines under various similar names, sending them glitter in the mail, opening their oreos and taking out the middle of all of them, putting baby locks on their cabinets and in the outlets they can’t see (like under the bed so they can’t get plug in their cellphone charger at night), etc. 

- is always eating some sort of snack, no matter what he is doing

- also posts videos about personal safety like what locks will actually keep people out and what ones are easy to break into

--caused several minor freakouts when he casually mentioned his father taught him how to do it

- occasionally posts videos with an adorable toddler and a young couple who he refers to as “mom and dad” even though they look at MOST five years older than him and he often makes parental abandonment jokes/comments

- no idea where he lives because he speaks in an American accent and talks constantly about American/California life but everything around him looks very British 

- absolutely dives head first into every tiktok drama and will go for the throat for anyone who makes ableist/sexist/racist/homophobic comments without hesitation

-- his drags are legendarily savage and he has caused numerous problematic accounts to just straight up disappear

- duets videos from Livvy, Dru, Mark, Emma and Julian ( with lots of savage drags) but no one knows how he knows them because he is absolutely somewhere in the UK and all of them are based in California/US

-- he also notably NEVER duets Ty

--- the mystery is finally solved when Kit does a livestream and reveals that he met all of them because he was briefly living with them before getting placed with his family, the young couple who actually are his mom and dad 

---- he is very vague about the living situation but everyone assumes he was a foster child 

- he once caused a mass freakout on Tiktok (that actually spilled over to twitter and buzzfeed) when he announced he was going back to the US to visit friends and then posted a video with the caption “when you see your boyfriend in person for the first time in MONTHS but he’s too distracted by some wet 🐱” 

-- the video panned out from Kit’s unamused face to Ty gently rubbing a tiny wet kitten  with a soft cotton towel 

[the-bee-graveyard]

Congrats on 100 followers!!! How about kitty?

Thank you Fae ❤️

I’m sorry this took so long, I’m lazy

Requests are still open, go here for more details

Alright I call this one Windows, it’s inspired by the scene in Riverdale where Kevin and Betty are talking about Archie because it’s the one thing I remember about that show and it fits:

Twin sisters can be a lot of things. They can be best friends, forever companions. They can also be clingy, and nosy, and they can scare the shit out of you when they sneak into your room unannounced and you look up from looking out your window to see her standing next to you smiling like she was about to commit a murder.

“Shit Livvy!” Ty exclaimed, jumping back. His cat, Irene, hissed and leaped off his bed, coming to rub herself up against Livvy.

“What are we looking at?” Livvy asked, punching Ty on the arm playfully. It didn’t hurt but he flinched, and she moved herself to make sure she wasn’t touching him.

“Nothing,” Ty said quickly, trying to think of a way to close the blinds on his window without Livvy noticing. As if she could read his mind Livvy looked out the window and let out a loud gasp.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed. “Kit got hot.”

Kit Herondale had been their neighbor since the fifth grade when the nice couple next door Tessa and Jem adopted him. He’d been friends with the Blackthorn’s since the sixth. Ty had a huge crush on him since the seventh, Livvy found out about it in the eighth, Kit went to visit family in England at the end of the ninth for the summer, and now they were all back here at the beginning of tenth grade, Kit looking like a whole Greek god.

Ty peeled out the window again. Kit had his window open (he always did) and he sat on his bed shirtless, looking down at his phone. He looked up for a second and Livvy waved. Kit smiles and waved back before looking down at his phone again.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ty hissed. “Now he’s going to know we were watching him, and he’s going to think we’re creeps, and he’s going to tell everyone we’re creeps, and we’ll forever be known as the creepy stalker twins next door.”

“Can’t be worse than Mark being known as ‘strawberry boy’,” Livvy shrugged, referring to when their older brother went to a restaurant and ordered a plate of strawberries.

“It’s a lot worse than strawberry boy.”

“None of that is going to happen, I was just waving hello. We’ve all waved below a hundred times from this window. You need to calm down.” Ty fought the urge to throw a shoe at his sister. Calm down? How the hell was he supposed to calm down? Why don’t they all just start freaking meditating, because apparently, he was the one who needed to calm down. “He stares at you to you know, which means two things. One, the two of you need to start closing your blinds. Two, he totally likes you back.” Ty blushed.

“No he doesn’t,” Ty said. “Now promise me you won’t get involved.” Livvy stayed silent. “Livia Blackthorn, promise me.”

“Fine, fine,” Livvy sighed. “I promise.” 

“Good,” Ty said cheerily, off to go find his bee plushie before bed, he’d let Tavvy borrow it, and Tavvy had a horrible habit of not returning things to their rightful spot.

*Time jump to the morning*

“Ty, please get the door!” His mother, Eleanor called (Author’s Note: Eleanor’s alive because I said so) Ty opened their from door to reveal Kit standing there, a grin that should look ridiculous plastered on his face, but Ty found it cute.

“How’s my favorite Blackthorn doing?” Kit asked.

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking Christopher,” Ty’s little sister, Dru said as she walked by them. 

“I see you still have an attitude problem,” Kit said.

“How was England?” Dru asked. “Are you as big an asshole to the British as you are to the Americans?”

“Drusilla Blackthorn, we don’t fucking swear in my damn house.” Kit gave a dramatic gasp. Ty was pretty sure he was being sarcastic, Kit was good at that. “Shit! And yes, Christopher Jonathan Herondale doesn't discriminate, he’s an asshole to all.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” Ty frowned, making Kit’s smile widened. He lost the frown, it was hard to frown when Kit smiled like that. Ty cursed his heart slamming in his chest, he swore everyone else could hear it. 

“Is Livvy walking with us?” Kit asked. They’d agreed before Kit left that summer to walk together for the first day of school, and Ty was touched Kit didn’t forget. He certainly hadn’t, he’d been waiting every day since Kit left to see him again.

“Livvy will not be walking to school with you,” Livvy said from the stairs. “Livvy’s getting a ride with Julian and Emma, it’s too hot to walk. Livvy will also stop talking it the third person, it’s fucking annoying.” Bullshit, Ty thought. Livvy’d rather walk through the desert than ride with Julian and Emma, she always complained about their obnoxious amount of PDA. And if Livvy went with Julian and Emma then he’d be stuck all alone with Kit and things would get awkward and Kit would find out about Ty’s crush and he’d hate Ty and Ty would have to flee the country to avoid seeing him every day.

Ty was about to tell his sister to suck it up and grab her backpack when his mother walked into the room. “Kit! Hello!” Eleanor said, waving enthusiastically with one hand, the other hand fiddling with a pipe cleaner. 

“Hi Mrs. Bla- Eleanor,” Kit said. Eleanor insisted no one called her Mrs. Blackthorn, she said it sounded too formal and it made her feel old.

“I just came to tell you to have a good first day Ty,” Eleanor said. She came over a kissed her son on the forehead, slipping his fidget toy in his pocket quickly before heading back to the kitchen. “I love you!” She called.

“Should we get going then?” Kit asked. Ty nodded and wrapped his backpack, putting his hands in his pockets so they wouldn’t flap so much. Kit said it many times before he liked it when Ty flapped his hands, but Ty was just used to hiding it. 

“I thought of you all summer,” Kit said as soon as they walked far from the Blackthorn house. “I missed you so much. You’re so much better than Tessa’s Aunt Harriet.”

“At least you got to go abroad,” Ty sighed. “All I got was listening to Livvy complain about the heat and Dru ranting about the new season of some horror show she watches.”

“Mark and Helen came home though, didn’t he?” Mark went to college in New York with his boyfriend Kieran and girlfriend Cristina, and Helen and her wife Aline both had high paying jobs as lawyers in New York too,

“Yeah, Helen and Aline came for a week and then Mark came for two,” Ty explained. “Helen brought me a keychain for my bag, and she brought me a copy of A Study In Scarlet. Of course, I already own it, but this one was a different edition.” Ty paused. “Am I boring you?”

“Never,” Kit replied. Ty looked at the other boy and saw the other boy staring at him. Kit then whispered something, so quietly Ty almost didn’t here him, “I love you Ty, I love you.” Ty stood still, his body refusing to move. Plenty of people said I love you, but those were just words. And even if Kit did mean them, that didn’t mean he meant them in a romantic way. 

By the time Ty came out of his frozen state Kit had already turned and begun to run in the other direction. Kit was fast, but Ty was faster. He caught up to Kit in no time even though the other boy had a head start and grabbed his wrist. Kit spun around, his eyes filled with tears that hadn’t fell yet.

“Can I-” Ty asked. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course,” Kit asked. Ty pressed his lips to Kit’s, and the kiss was everything Ty could have imagined. When they finally pulled apart Kit had the same ridiculous grin from earlier on his face.

“We’re going to be late to school,” Ty said.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Well it’s the truth.”

“Won’t be the first time.” 

“For me it will be.”

“I forgot what a goody two-shoes you are.”

“Fuck you.” Ty took Kit’s hand and smiled as they finished their walk to school.

Maybe twin sisters weren’t so bad.

Ty’s phone buzzed.

Livvy: Get your mans bitch

He took it back, twin sisters were definitely that bad.

[thetypedwriter]

Chain of Iron Book Review

Chain of Iron Book Review by Cassandra Clare 

You know, I was actually really irritated when this book came out because once again, the Dark Artifices seems to be shafted for this new series (that nobody asked for) to shine, but fortunately I wasn’t as bothered by it as I predicted I would be. 

In case you are in the small minority of people who haven’t heard of Cassandra Clare and her millions of Shadowhunter books, Chain of Iron is the next nephilim installment in Clare’s never-ending series. 

Chain of Iron is the sequel to Chain of Gold, and the series as a whole is a sequel to the Infernal Devices series, but a prequel to the original Mortal Instruments as well as the Dark Artifices which is the sequel series to the Mortal Instruments. 

I would be surprised if you weren’t baffled right now. 

I’ve said this before for other Shadowhunter installments, but these books are not user friendly for new folk. You genuinely need to have read the other series to get full enjoyment and understanding of these books.

 If you do read them without having read the others, I'm sure it would still be enjoyable to a certain extent, but a large case of ensemble character and relationships will be lost to you and a big portion of these novels are the relationships within them. 

To delve right in, Chain of Iron has our main cast of friendly teenagers nicknamed the Merry Thieves (which I just abhor, sorry, not sorry) return from Chain of Gold after fighting one of the princes of Hell, Belial, and now with Cordelia and James being married as to avoid a scandal of Cordelia’s reputation and James’ criminal record. 

In addition, there is a new serial killer on the loose murdering shadowhunters at dawn and stealing their runes. Most of the book is dealt with trying to catch the culprit, the Consul and Inquisitor along with the whole of adult shadowhunter authority being inconsequential and inept as usual (how these people became parents are beyond me as they never have any sort of clue what their children get up to) along with side plots including raising Jesse Blackthorn from the dead and romance galore in typical Clare fashion that makes you want to rip your hair out because if everyone just communicated and was honest there would be no issues. 

The beginning of the novel is molasses slow.

I’ve come to expect this with Clare’s books. Actually, I think I’ve figured out the formula entirely. Here is is:

Mostly nothing of consequence happens for nearly 400 pages except for character building and small instances of plot 

Intersperse some random demon attacks for flavor 

Everyone is beautiful, everyone is in love, and love is the most groundbreaking, earth shattering thing in existence 

Get into the last 200ish pages and shit hits the fan with action, misunderstandings, and confessions 

Nobody is honest with anybody and lying is commonplace

End the behemoth on a cliffhanger so that the audience is kept in suspenseful anxiety until the next installment 

You can’t see me, but I am bowing right now. 

Genuinely, that is how 90% of Clare’s novels pan out. Obviously, as she has a very successful and long-running book series, the formula works. 

That being said, there are some vices and virtues to it. 

For this book, the beginning was slow. Almost nothing of significance happens for most of it and it's a dredge to get through. 

However, it’s mundane to get through in the same way that reading fanfiction of your favorite characters is mundane. What Clare does for 400 pieces of paper is build up her characters and their relationships. Normally, you would do this interspersed with plot, but not in this case. 

It’s not very conventional, but it kinda works?

I definitely struggled connecting with the characters from this series more than any other of Clare’s novels. The Mortal Instruments, as the original, were beloved if a little cheesy. Then came the Infernal Devices with witty Will, soulful Jem, and intelligent Tessa. Then we got the Dark Artifices, which to me, is still the best as Julian, Emma, Mark, Christina and the others are the most flawed in any of the series and I enjoy that. 

I enjoy that they’re not perfect, I enjoy that they’re devious and conniving. It makes them more interesting and more worthwhile to read about. 

Instead, the main characters in Chain of Iron and the subsequent series are mainly James, Cordelia, Matthew, and sometimes Lucie. I would argue that no one else matters in the book and are just added in for some sugar, spice, and everything nice. 

Some of you might be outraged at this statement. What about Grace? You might say. Or Jesse? Or Thomas, Christopher, Alistair, Ariadne or Anna?

They don’t matter. 

They matter in a very small, plot convenience, fluff ensues kind of way, but not really in any way of substance. Or, at the very least, that’s how I feel. 

Anna is just there to be cool, Thomas is a gay gentle giant with literally no personality, Christopher is so basic and is essentially the Trader Joe’s version of Henry who was better and more interesting as the first, Alistair is a redeemed bully, and Ariadne is an orphan who loves Anna. 

The end. 

Once again, sometimes Clare bites off more than she can chew and I wonder if she just throws these characters in there just because it makes her happy. 

As for our main protagonists, they’re mediocre. Matthew is definitely the most interesting in the bunch and I was jubilant to see him get more screen time this time around. The increasing realization of his alcohol abuse, his feelings for Cordelia, his nonplussed attitude. 

All of it is intriguing. I still don’t like him as much as other protagonists from other installments, but he is by far the winner of this triad. 

James is too perfect, too beautiful, and a worse version of his father. If I wanted more Will I would have turned to fanfiction of the Infernal Devices instead of imagining up his son. The only interesting thing about James is his demon connection which is not even something he does, but rather something that is done to him. 

Cordelia is banal. Once again, she’s too perfect, too brave, and too kind. Literally nothing is wrong with her. She’s level headed, intelligent, forgiving, and fierce. 

Basically, she’s boring to the brim. 

I do think Clare did a better job this time around to include more of Cordelia’s Persian heritage, but it still mainly fell to the backburner of her lackluster and blank personality. In fact, I think James made more of an effort for Persian food and culture than Cordelia did, but I digress. 

Also, a small note, but still with weight, why does Cordelia have eight names??

It bugs the living daylights out of me that in a single sentence she will be called Cordelia, Layla and Daisy. 

Clare. Give the girl one name. My god. 

Actually, as a side note to this side note, Clare is talented at many things, but nicknames are not one of them. EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER IN THIS NOVEL has a nickname and all of them are horrible. I have never in my entire life known a Matthew that has gone by the nickname Math. 

What. In. The. World. 

Anyways, the only other character of note is Lucie. I like and dislike Lucie. Lucie is also boring and her novelist passion is aggravating to me. However, I did like her turn with necromancy and her increasing desperation to save Jesse that drives her to work with Grace and lie to her friends and family was a much-needed note of interest. 

Overall, this book did make me like the characters more than I did in Chain of Gold, but it took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to get there, more than what I think should have been afforded. If you need to kill 400 trees in order to make me like your main characters, that’s a problem. 

Whatever the method, I do care about them more than I did previously so I suppose mission accomplished. I do think some of the strongest relationships in the book are the romances, but then also the parabatai bond between Matthew and James. 

Matthew and James have one of the best relationships in the book and I’m equally frustrated and intrigued how things will play out with Matthew now having confessed his feelings for Cordelia. 

I do feel like female parabatai get shafted in a lot of Clare’s novels compared to the boys. The coed pairs often do well like Clary and Simon or Emma and Julian. Otherwise, the boys far outrank the girls in terms of bond and friendship. 

Even in this novel, the “friendship” between Lucie and Cordelia is laughable. They barely talk to each other or spend time together and when they do is shallow.  Whereas Matthew and James seem much more involved in each other’s lives. 

That being said, if you noticed I didn’t speak much of the plot it’s because for me plot comes very much second in a Shadowhudenter novel. It’s there of course, and it’s entertaining, but I do enjoy the characters and their relationships more than anything else which makes Chain of Iron  better than its predecessor but still worse in my view than any other of Clare’s novels. 

Plot just doesn’t compare to the soul crushing love and friendships shown between the pages, for better or for worse. 

Recommendation: The Dark Artifices > Infernal Devices > The Mortal Instruments ...and  The Last Hours fall somewhere after the Mortal Instruments and the trillions of side novels that Clare has co-written with other authors and all seem to be about Magnus Bane.

Score: 7/10 

[thatnerdnextdoor24]

Under the Mistletoe

I’ve been holding onto this baby all year. Happy holidays!! Enjoy it the best you can with the ones you love

This is Part One. Read Part Two!! 

Ao3

More Kit/Ty

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

Shadowhunters were never much into Christmas. In this, they and Kit had in common. Johnny Rook thought Christmas as pointless and just another mundane marketing ploy. Though it was strange, when his first Christmas in this new realm approached, it was nice to know that he wouldn't be missing anything.

That's what he had thought, anyway. But it appeared that Tessa and Jem were much more interested in the holiday shenanigans. When Kit had woken on the 1 of December that year, he had come downstairs to find that the ghosts of Christmas past had vomited all over his house. Tinsel draped along the walls, shiny glass ornaments on a humongous tree. The scent of cinnamon drifting in from the kitchen. Then there was Jem and Tessa dancing together in front of the fireplace, Bing Cosby singing holiday cheer from Tessa’s vintage record player. 

It had surprised him to say the least. Then again, Jem and Tessa weren't Shadowhunters anymore. They lived life in between, stuck in the middle of Downworld, Shadowhunters, and mundanes. His first Christmas with them had been daunting. They had opened their arms to him, wanted to give him love and warmth and acceptance. And that almost made it worse. Because Kit didn't know how to act. He felt awkward when someone asked what he wanted for Christmas, and then even more embarrassed when they actually gave him what he had asked for. 

It's taken a few Christmas's for him to get the hang of it. Though Kit thought that a little bit of embarrassment would always stick with him. Now, years later, after adventure, after adventure, after adventure. Christmas came by again, and Kit found that he truly wanted it. He wanted the white snow, the cinnamon cookies, pine trees, candy canes, brightly wrapped presents, and, most importantly; a vision of cuddling by the fire, with the one he loved most. 

It may not have been the first Christmas Kit spent with Ty Blackthorn, but it was the first where the Las Angeles Institute held the annual Christmas party. So maybe that meant something to him. Kit didn't really know exactly why he had decided that it would be this Christmas. This year. This...week. (Was it really so soon?) In which he would finally do it. Over the past years, they had both grown. Up, apart, up again, and back together. If anything. Kit learned what he should have already known. That Christopher Herondale and Tiberius Blackthorn, were written in the stars. Destined to be together, no matter what may come their way. 

So it would be this year, this Christmas. Where Kit would do the most terrifying, horrifying, yet exciting, righteous, thing he had ever done. 

Kit was going to ask Ty to marry him.

And if one was going to marry Tiberius Blackthorn, there were a few things that one needed to do.

First, one needed to notify the rest of the Blackthorn Clan, and let them know that you were marrying their brother. So that's what Kit had done. He had decided three weeks ago that it would be this Christmas, when he proposed to Ty. So, that same day, Kit drove to the house that Julian and Emma shared on the beach, (about a 40 minute drive from Kit and Ty's downtown apartment.) And knocked on the door.

He had been so nervous. When he had sat at the kitchen table with Julian and Emma. They had thought that something was wrong. But Kit had no doubts. None at all. He knew he would have no regrets. "I'm going to ask Ty to marry me." He blurted. Julian had choked on his tea, Emma had beamed. Kit knew he had to finish talking before Julain could start. 

"But I'm not here to ask you for permission. Because that's not your choice, it's Ty's. So really you don't have a say in this. So I'm not asking you for permission. I love Ty. And so do you, and I know that you were more of a father to him than a brother. So it was only fair that you would be the first to know. I love Ty. And I want to marry him." Kit had never felt so sure about anything in his life. 

Julian could see that in the way Kit held himself, in the soft pitch his voice took when he talked about Ty. It was the look in his eyes, and the twitching of his fingers. Kit loved Ty so much that at this moment, nothing else mattered. Julian laughed. Kit jumped in surprise and Emma scooted away, they exchanged a quizzical look while Julian caught his breath. Finally, he sighed, looking up at Kit with a warm smile. "Okay." He said.

Not really what Kit had expected. "Okay?" He and Emma echoed. Julian nodded. "You said you're going to ask Ty to marry you. And I'm telling you 'okay'." His face was beaming, and Kit felt his heart burst and the tension in his shoulders drop. He may not have been there to ask for permission, but it definitely would've been bad if Julain had disapproved.  

It had been such a weight off his shoulders. And once he had said it out loud, to another person, it didn't feel so much like a far off dream. The more people he told, the more right it felt. Because there had been a lot of people to tell. He drove to the L.A. Institute to tell Helen, Aline, and Tavvy. He had to get a portal to New York so he could tell Mark and Christina. Dru had been at the New York Institute with Kit's parabatai, Ash. So he had told them too. Only Ash had already known. Because Ash knew Kit maybe even better than Ty did.

Then he had to tell his side too. And he had to do that before Ash did. (He couldn't keep a secret. Probably a fairie thing.) Jace had been so excited he wanted to call everyone he knew, it was a good thing Clary had been there. Portaling again that day was exhausting, but he made it to Devon. Tessa had beamed, Jem had cried. Mina was nearly as excited as Jace.

It was almost dinner time when he finally got home. Ty had been waiting, laying on the couch with a book in his hands and Irene in his lap. The smile he gave Kit was soft, lovely. It melted Kit completely. He had promptly sat on the floor in front of the couch. Ty raised his arm so Kit could lean his tired head against Ty's chest. Ty let his arm back down, hand tucking into Kit's hair. "Read to me?" Kit asked quietly.

So Ty did.

It had become their norm. For Ty to lay on the couch like this, for Kit to sit like this, for Irene to purr softly while Kit stroked her fur. For Ty to read outloud, in his steady voice. Kit closed his eyes, and was certain once more. He was making the right choice. 

That had been three weeks ago. Three long, stressing, weeks. That mostly consisted of Kit going into jewelry shops, getting nervous and antsy, and running out again before his sticky fingers, well, stuck to anything. 

He had taken Ash with him to a few stores. It helped to have him there when Kit got nervous. But, Ash had to keep squeezing his arm, so often that the store clerks thought that they were the two getting married. Ash found this hilarious and laughed so hard that he nearly knocked over a display case of diamonds. They were then escorted out of the store, and Kit was still ringless.

Kit relayed this dilemma to Dru that night while the three of them were walking through Central Park. The ground was covered in snow, they were all bundled up in their warmest clothes. Despite the cold, Central Park was the only place in New York where Ash didn’t gain a headache from all the iron of the city. They had spent the day in NYC, getting some last minute Christmas shopping done. Being in the city that long, had started to give even Kit a headache. He could only imagine how bad Ash’s head had started pounding, but Ash hadn’t said anything about it. Of course, Kit had been able to tell that his smile didn’t reach his eyes or that he wasn’t completely listening to them. So he had casually steered them in the direction of the park, claiming he was done with shopping for the day.

 Dru gave him a curious look and said, “Just give him your Herondale ring.” Kit blinked at her, and Ash lifted Kit’s right hand up, studying the ring. “I didn’t know this was the Herondale symbol…” he murmured. Kit decided to ignore him for a moment, giving Dru his full attention. She rolled her eyes, “Honestly Kit, do you know anything about Shadowhunter weddings?” 

“....Gold clothes?”

“You’re hopeless.”

 Dru was probably right. To be fair, Kit had never been a part of a shadowhunter marriage. He had only even seen a couple of them. But at least now he had his ring problem sorted. Kit had to admit, exchanging family rings did have something romantic going for it. 

So alerting the Blackthorn Clan; Done.

Getting a ring; Done.

Actually popping the question…

Work in progress. 

Kit spends that night at the New York Institute. They had returned and Dru had pestered him with questions about the engagement and the eventual marriage. Then the rest of the New York Institute residents broke out the drinks and the poker chips. Alec and Magnus were called over, and Kit was not allowed to leave. Not that he really wanted to, either. Even if he did miss Ty, he liked hanging out with friends, too. And he knew that Ty could use some time to himself every now and then. He did text Ty for a moment, letting him know that he wouldn’t be home that night. 

Kit

I’ve been forced into a

game of poker. 

don’t wait up. 

Sherlock <3

How bad are you

losing?

Kit

How do you know 

I’m not winning??

Sherlock <3

I’ve played poker with 

you Kit. You suck at it

Kit

O ye of little faith…

Sherlock <3

It’s not a test of faith. 

You just suck at poker

Kit

I’m crushed.

My own boyfriend 

doesn’t believe in my

Poker face :(

Sherlock <3

Again, how badly are you losing?

Kit

Ash is kicking my ass

Jace is trying to steal

my chips. 

Simon thought we 

were playing black 

jack.

Clary and Isabelle are

cheating and teamed up,

combining their cards.

Magnus is the dealer

and is definitely giving

me bad cards on 

purpose. 

Sherlock <3

I don’t think he is, love. 

Pretty sure you’re just bad at poker.

Kit

Akdsnfskjfsa

stoooooop

I’m gonna win!!!!!!

Sherlock <3

Sure

And when you lose,

 I’ll give you a kiss to make it better. 

Kit

:(

And when I win 

I’ll give YOU a victory kiss

;)

Sherlock <3

Sure you will, baby.

Kit smiled at his phone like an idiot for a moment. When Ty called him “baby”, something just melted right in his chest and he felt like a fifteen year old boy catastrophically in love with his best friend all over again. 

Then Jace tried to steal another one of his chips and Kit had to swat him away and pay attention once more. 

He did finally crawl through a portal home that morning, around eight. But seeing as LA was three hours behind, Kit wasn’t surprised to enter a quiet and warm apartment. Irene lifted her head from where she was curled up on the couch, she yawned at him and then went back to sleep. That was about at warm a welcome as he expected. Kit crept, silently, into the bedroom. Where rumpled sheets and a lover were curled up, tangled in one another. Ty lay on his stomach, arms sprawled out. He was laying on Kit’s side of the bed. 

A smirk graced his lips. For a moment, he leaned against the door frame, and just drank the picture in. The sun was barely coming up, scattering red and orange through the window and across the bed. Ty’s lithe and strong body outlined against the pale bedsheets and the worn quilts his mother had made so long ago. One, red and green for the Christmas season, was pulled up, above his chin. His black, silky, hair spilled just over the top of it.

 Kit could just barely make out Ty’s eyes shutting even tighter against the sunlight filtering in.  Using all his fairie and shadowhunter stealth, Kit pulled the curtain back, blocking out the sun. Ty sighed and relaxed. Carefully, gently, Kit climbed into the bed, beneath the quilts and blankets. He sank into the warm and familiar comfort that always came from being with Ty. Wrapping his arms around Ty’s middle, laying on his side and nuzzling his face into the back of Ty’s neck. He felt Ty hum beneath him. Felt the low baritone rumble through his chest and ripple up his neck. 

He pressed a kiss into his (hopefully) soon to be fiancee’s soft curls. “Go back to sleep,” Kit whispered, the sound barely audible and low and throaty even to his own ears. Ty moved his hand to take Kit’s from where it rested around his waist. “Welcome home,” He murmured, sinking deeper into Kit’s embrace. Kit smiled, “What are you doing on this side of the bed?” He asked, because Ty liked things in order and he liked having his own side of the bed where he could keep his pillows straight and sheets tucked in while Kit’s side of the bed often laid a rumpled mess. “M’mells like you…” Ty trailed. 

Kit feels his entire face heat up, and he’s grinning from ear to ear as he gives Ty another gentle squeeze and a kiss on the back of the head. "Did you win?" Ty asks, he sounds nearly asleep again. Kit chuckles. "Not at all." But Ty has already fallen back asleep, his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. It only takes a few moments, with him breathing in Ty's scent and the blankets warm around him, for Kit to drift off completely.

[khaleesiofalicante]

I dont like when people use the excuse of a difficult childhood to explain when a character is acting in a bad way. That's what abusive people tell others when they are caught committing abuse. I know that when your a teenager your feelings are a mess but that doesn't mean you should treat like that. You can have a difficult childhood and still be a decent and good person. And when someone mentions that they think julian is scary 👀. Don't know, maybe I see signs of some ppl I know in him

100% agreed.

Your trauma is not an excuse to treat other people like shit. I have always felt that if anything our trauma and pain must make us more empathetic and kind towards other people - because we are intimately familiar with the feeling. This is actually the main reason why I love Magnus - because he has always been kind to everyone despite his own pain. 

Of course, this is all easier said than done. 

So far I don’t find Julian’s behavior deeply concerning. I don’t know maybe it gets worse in the future - but I hope not. I think what Julian really needs is a support system because right now he is the support system for too many people at the same time and his only support system is Emma - and we know how that’s going right now. 

Any child or teenager (or person) would feel better and stronger when they have someone they can rely on. Someone they can trust (Julian explicitly told Diana he doesn’t trust anyone and that made me sad). 

So, I hope Julian finds that - because what he is going through right now is not healthy for him. He needs be supported. He needs to be comforted. I think that would help him. I hope he gets that. 

[fieryfantasybooklover]

Everything Isn't Enough - A Jemma fic

First collab with @pleaseleaveamessageblog

SHE IS AWESOME PLEASE CHECK OUT HER BLOG AND HER WRITING!!

---------------------------------------------------

Diana Wrayburn was left in charge of the Los Angeles Institute for the weekend. The Institute’s normal heads, Helen and Aline Penhallow-Blackthorn, had gone on a short trip with the Consul and his husband. The majority of Helen’s younger siblings were also away from the Institute. Mark away in Faerie with Cristina Rosales and Kieran Kingson. Drusilla in Idris studying at the Shadowhunter Academy. And Tiberius, far away in the Carpathians, at the Scholomance. Julian and Octavian were still in L.A. Tavvy, still being under the age required to patrol, remained at the Institute with Diana while Julian and his former parabatai, now girlfriend, Emma Carstairs were on patrol duty for the night. 

It was a normal night. Patrol nights had been slow recently, so the two were perfectly fine with going by themselves. Also, they were Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn. The two were basically legends at this point. They had been transformed into True Nephilim not even two years ago and lived through it. The two were the dream team. They were damn near unbeatable. That’s what everyone believed, at least.

“Think it’ll be a slow night, Em?” Julian asked. The two had just begun their drive into the city, Julian watching the road and Emma the sensor. They did not expect to see anything out of the ordinary. Because shifts normally alternated, Diana had briefed them on Mark and Cristina’s patrol from last night. No irregular activity had been noticed.

“If it’s slow we can always drive down to the beach,” Emma answered. “We’ll have time.” And just as expected, they did just that. After about an hour and a half of no problems or run-ins with a demon, the pair decided to take their patrol to a place with a better view of the sunset.

“Should we text Diana to get the “Okay?” Julian inquired, knowing that Emma had no intention of playing it safe. 

“Jules, we are adults,” Emma replied. “Plus it’s a slow night, I doubt she’ll even care. I’ll bring the sensor and my phone, just in case.” Emma was aware that anything could happen, they were Shadowhunters, she needed to be prepared for anything. 

What they weren’t prepared for though, was a nest filled to the brim with Scorpio demons. They walked down the beach, hand in hand, weapons ready, if necessary. However, as the made their way further down the beach, Emma noticed that the sensor in her pocket was becoming warm. 

“Jules,” She said. “Be on guard, the sensor is heating up.” He looked at her and nodded, now being made aware of a potential threat, his attitude was immediately shifted. 

“How close?” He asked.

“Not sure.” 

“Emma! Watch out!” Julian yelled. It was only at this moment that he had become aware of the presence of a looming Scorpio demon. Julian, drawing a seraph blade and calling out “Gabriel!” with great force as he prepared to face off the demon. Emma, drawing Cortana, silently moved to flank him. The demon, yellow eyes narrowed to slits hissed, revealing its needle-like teeth. This was the moment the battle calm descended in one swift motion. The rest of the world fell away, becoming distant and insignificant in the face of this hulking, bestial threat. 

The demon was the first to lunge, moving as quickly as a blur, barbed tail whipping and spearing towards Emma. She barely managed to dodge, avoiding the needle-like tail. Julian darted forward, then, using the seraph blade to cut deep into the demon’s side, causing a spray of ichor that spattered over Julian. Contact with the liquid made his skin burn. The demon hissed louder, lunging backward before moving with lightning quickness towards Emma. But this time, she was ready, dodging the moving demon and sinking Cortana deep into the demon’s side, killing it in a single fatal stroke. The demon sunk to the ground, disintegrating into nothing. 

Julian exhaled deeply, waiting as the rest of the world came into focus again. Turning towards Emma, Julian’s euphoric feeling of victory faded unbelievably quickly. Emma had sunk to the ground and was clutching her side tightly, her face contorted in pain. Julian dropped the seraph blade to the ground with a clatter, rushing to her side. “Emma!” he shouted. Bending over her, he inhaled sharply at the sight of the vicious stab one penetrating Emma’s side.

“It stabbed me right before I killed it… I didn’t realize it until it was gone.” Emma whispered her face was drawn and pale, the mere act of talking seeming to drain everything from her. 

“Hey hey hey Em stay with me. Stay with me, you’re not dying here.” Julian whipped out a stele, drawing an iratze on her as quickly as possible. The rune faded into her skin, and both anxiously waited for the injury to vanish or at least get milder in some way. When the wound continued to bleed and Emma doubled over wincing, it was clear the rune hadn’t worked. What’s going on? This isn’t normal. Julian’s mind was racing, panic beginning to take over.

Emma was fading fast; it was clear, the poison that had been in the demon’s tail consuming her from the inside out. It feels like fire in my veins. she thought as she faded in and out from consciousness. “Julian, what’s going on?” She managed to say before passing out again.

“No no no no no no Emma hold on please hold on. Don’t leave me now.” Julian begged, tears streaming down his face. Helplessness nearly crippled him at that moment, drowning him in a wave of infinite blue-black darkness. “Help! Somebody, please! Help me!” Julian shouted. Yelling to the angel, praying that he was being heard, but knowing even as he spoke that it was hopeless. They were alone, and beyond help at this point. Emma was convulsing at this point, violently shaking and shivering. Julian frantically drew more iratzes on her, dozens more, hand flying in desperate gestures. But as each one faded, his remaining slivers of hope faded, leaving him cold and empty. 

“Jules,” Emma whispered faintly in a raspy whisper. “I love you.” 

“Oh, my Emma. I love you too.” Their eyes met in that moment, and only a few moments passed before Julian was forced to witness the life vanish from behind her eyes. Her soul, her spirit, her life, everything that made Emma Emma quietly vanished, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell. At that moment, Julian’s heart splintered into pieces and he sobbed. Gripping Emma tightly, Julian sobbed as his very being broke to pieces with grief and sadness and regret and every other possible feeling. 

Have you ever seen the light leave someone’s eyes? Julian had seen it happen more times than he’d care to remember. The moment when you look into a person’s eyes and you know their heart has stopped beating. He had watched some of his closest relatives pass before his eyes. He had looked his father in the eyes as his soul left his corrupted body. He had watched his precious sister’s life be taken away far too soon.

But this? This was infinitely worse. The knowledge that not only was she dead, he had done nothing but sit and watch. All of his efforts seemed so pointless now, insignificant. His Emma’s last words echoing in his mind. Jules. I love you. And he loved her. So much, more than anything he could possibly dream of. For years, she was what kept him grounded. She was what his life was centered around. She had gone from being his first love to being his forbidden love. But that never stopped either of them. Julian had lived silently in love with her for years until their curse was broken. Then, finally, he went back to being his Emma. He would have done everything for her. But now, everything wasn’t enough.

I should have done something else, something more. I could have saved her. If I could have done something better, she would still be here. Julian sobbed to himself, folding inwards under the weight of crushing guilt and grief. Why am I so helpless? Why didn’t I do something, anything else? Em, I am so sorry. I will be sorry until the day I die, and it will never be enough. Because I couldn’t save you, or anybody else. 

[suchalovelydisaster]

Everything Isn’t Enough

An Angsty Jemma Fic

My first collaboration with @fieryfantasybooklover​

Read it on ao3!

It was an ordinary patrol. That’s all it was supposed to be. Nothing else was meant to happen.

Word Count: 1,396

Tw: Self hate

Diana Wrayburn was left in charge of the Los Angeles Institute for the weekend. The Institute’s normal heads, Helen and Aline Penhallow-Blackthorn, had gone on a short trip with the Consul and his husband. The majority of Helen���s younger siblings were also away from the Institute. Mark away in Faerie with Cristina Rosales and Kieran Kingson. Drusilla in Idris studying at the Shadowhunter Academy. And Tiberius, far away in the Carpathians, at the Scholomance. Julian and Octavian were still in L.A. Tavvy, still being under the age required to patrol, remained at the Institute with Diana while Julian and his former parabatai, now girlfriend, Emma Carstairs were on patrol duty for the night. 

It was a normal night. Patrol nights had been slow recently, so the two were perfectly fine with going by themselves. Also, they were Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn. The two were basically legends at this point. They had been transformed into True Nephilim not even two years ago and lived through it. The two were the dream team. They were damn near unbeatable. That’s what everyone believed, at least.

“Think it’ll be a slow night, Em?” Julian asked. The two had just begun their drive into the city, Julian watching the road and Emma the sensor. They did not expect to see anything out of the ordinary. Because shifts normally alternated, Diana had briefed them on Mark and Cristina’s patrol from last night. No irregular activity had been noticed.

“If it’s slow we can always drive down to the beach,” Emma answered. “We’ll have time.” And just as expected, they did just that. After about an hour and a half of no problems or run-ins with a demon, the pair decided to take their patrol to a place with a better view of the sunset.

“Should we text Diana to get the “Okay?” Julian inquired, knowing that Emma had no intention of playing it safe. 

“Jules we are adults,” Emma replied. “Plus it’s a slow night, I doubt she’ll even care. I’ll bring the sensor and my phone, just in case.” Emma was aware that anything could happen, they were Shadowhunters, she needed to be prepared for anything. 

What they weren’t prepared for though, was a nest filled to the brim with Scorpio demons. They walked down the beach, hand in hand, weapons ready, if necessary. However, as the made their way further down the beach, Emma noticed that the sensor in her pocket was becoming warm. 

“Jules,” She said. “Be on guard, the sensor is heating up.” He looked at her and nodded, now being made aware of a potential threat, his attitude was immediately shifted. 

“How close?” He asked.

“Not sure.” 

“Emma! Watch out!” Julian yelled. It was only at this moment that he had become aware of the presence of a looming Scorpio demon. Julian, drawing a seraph blade and calling out “Gabriel!” with great force as he prepared to face off the demon. Emma, drawing Cortana, silently moved to flank him. The demon, yellow eyes narrowed to slits hissed, revealing its needle-like teeth. This was the moment the battle calm descended in one swift motion. The rest of the world fell away, becoming distant and insignificant in the face of this hulking, bestial threat. 

The demon was the first to lunge, moving as quickly as a blur, barbed tail whipping and spearing towards Emma. She barely managed to dodge, avoiding the needle-like tail. Julian darted forward, then, using the seraph blade to cut deep into the demon’s side, causing a spray of ichor that spattered over Julian. Contact with the liquid made his skin burn. The demon hissed louder, lunging backward before moving with lightning quickness towards Emma. But this time, she was ready, dodging the moving demon and sinking Cortana deep into the demon’s side, killing it in a single fatal stroke. The demon sunk to the ground, disintegrating into nothing. 

Julian exhaled deeply, waiting as the rest of the world came into focus again. Turning towards Emma, Julian’s euphoric feeling of victory faded unbelievably quickly. Emma had sunk to the ground and was clutching her side tightly, her face contorted in pain. Julian dropped the seraph blade to the ground with a clatter, rushing to her side. “Emma!” he shouted. Bending over her, he inhaled sharply at the sight of the vicious stab one penetrating Emma’s side.

“It stabbed me right before I killed it… I didn’t realize it until it was gone.” Emma whispered her face was drawn and pale, the mere act of talking seeming to drain everything from her. 

“Hey hey hey Em stay with me. Stay with me, you’re not dying here.” Julian whipped out a stele, drawing an iratze on her as quickly as possible. The rune faded into her skin, and both anxiously waited for the injury to vanish or at least get milder in some way. When the wound continued to bleed and Emma doubled over wincing, it was clear the rune hadn’t worked. What’s going on? This isn’t normal. Julian’s mind was racing, panic beginning to take over.

Emma was fading fast; it was clear, the poison that had been in the demon’s tail consuming her from the inside out. It feels like fire in my veins. she thought as she faded in and out from consciousness. “Julian, what’s going on?” She managed to say before passing out again.

“No no no no no no Emma hold on please hold on. Don’t leave me now.” Julian begged, tears streaming down his face. Helplessness nearly crippled him at that moment, drowning him in a wave of infinite blue-black darkness. “Help! Somebody, please! Help me!” Julian shouted. Yelling to the angel, praying that he was being heard, but knowing even as he spoke that it was hopeless. They were alone, and beyond help at this point. Emma was convulsing at this point, violently shaking and shivering. Julian frantically drew more iratzes on her, dozens more, hand flying in desperate gestures. But as each one faded, his remaining slivers of hope faded, leaving him cold and empty. 

“Jules,” Emma whispered faintly in a raspy whisper. “I love you.” 

“Oh, my Emma. I love you too.” Their eyes met in that moment, and only a few moments passed before Julian was forced to witness the life vanish from behind her eyes. Her soul, her spirit, her life, everything that made Emma Emma quietly vanished, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell. At that moment, Julian’s heart splintered into pieces and he sobbed. Gripping Emma tightly, Julian sobbed as his very being broke to pieces with grief and sadness and regret and every other possible feeling. 

Have you ever seen the light leave someone’s eyes? Julian had seen it happen more times than he’d care to remember. The moment when you look into a person’s eyes and you know their heart has stopped beating. He had watched some of his closest relatives pass before his eyes. He had looked his father in the eyes as his soul left his corrupted body. He had watched his precious sister’s life be taken away far too soon.

But this? This was infinitely worse. The knowledge that not only was she dead, he had done nothing but sit and watch. All of his efforts seemed so pointless now, insignificant. His Emma’s last words echoing in his mind. Jules. I love you. And he loved her. So much, more than anything he could possibly dream of. For years, she was what kept him grounded. She was what his life was centered around. She had gone from being his first love to being his forbidden love. But that never stopped either of them. Julian had lived silently in love with her for years until their curse was broken. Then, finally, he went back to being his Emma. He would have done everything for her. But now, everything wasn’t enough.

I should have done something else, something more. I could have saved her. If I could have done something better, she would still be here. Julian sobbed to himself, folding inwards under the weight of crushing guilt and grief. Why am I so helpless? Why didn’t I do something, anything else? Em, I am so sorry. I will be sorry until the day I die, and it will never be enough. Because I couldn’t save you, or anybody else. 

[ti-bae-rius]

The Heart of New York (part 1)

“You really should eat breakfast.”

“Working,” Ty muttered, ignoring Livvy’s stern protest from where she floated listlessly above the unoccupied bed in his room. His lack of roommate was frankly a relief. The Scholomance was great for small nooks and crannies to hide in away from other scholars, but sometimes he just wanted somewhere to lay down and escape people altogether. Except for Livvy. It was worse when she wasn’t there, when thoughts of everything and everyone he’d left behind filtered through. There was Julian and Emma, back from their travelling and back to being the new demon-hunting legends of Los Angeles. There was Mark, with Kieran and Cristina in their beautiful faerie cottage, separated from everyone but each other. There was Dru, though she sent postcards and photos that Ty covered his walls with. And Tavvy and Helen and Aline. And then, tucked away in a cardboard box, wrapped in packing tape and then sealed in a safe, were memories of Kit. 

“You’re thinking about him,” Livvy said softly. “You have that look on your face.”

“Shut up. I’ll go get breakfast, okay?” Ty said, blushing.

“That’s the spirit. Nothing like some light haunting to keep you eating properly,” she teased, and Ty shut the door to his room, a heavy book tucked under his arm to read at breakfast. His life had been occupied for the last year with the demon he was researching. Elusive, photophobic, and - until now - undocumented, the demon was a complete enigma. Which, of course, meant it was a perfect candidate for his investigation. It was called a nyrual, and Ty was itching to find one. He wanted samples of its hide and ichor to study. But up here in the Carpathian Mountains, the cold-blooded demon was unlikely to appear.

He sank down onto the end of one of the long tables that ran the length of the room with a cup of tea and a pastry, the book open beside him. He was careful not to get any flakes of pastry on the pages and, when he was done, pulled one cotton reading glove on to leaf through the pages. His work was spreading across the table, maps and diagrams seeming to burst out of his notebook and onto the table all around him. The only thing that made him look up was when he hit the bottom of his mug and became aware he was drinking the tea leaves at the bottom. 

“Someone’s coming,” Livvy warned and Ty prepared himself. She always kept an eye out to see if anyone was headed over when he was working, giving him those precious few moments to pull his mind away from his work. Changing from one task to another was never something that felt completely comfortable, like a piece of his brain was still with the last thing, but having it not be so instantaneous was a help.

“Blackthorn, you have a letter.”

Ty pushed his headphones around his neck.

“A letter,” he repeated absently. “Thanks.”

He glanced up at his classmate and she winked. That was happening more and more recently. Sometimes he wondered just what they saw in him, what warranted the sideways glances and giggles and winks. He’d looked at old photos and didn’t see all that much difference. Girls liked guys with muscles - Ty knew that. But he wasn’t strong, not like Julian. He looked more like Mark, lithe and long, with willowy limbs. Though he trained to keep his skills honed, he spent more time hefting heavy tomes from room to room and climbing the ladders attached to the library shelves than he did doing strength and cardio.  But then, he wasn’t sure he wanted the Scholomance girls to look at him like that. He didn’t know what he wanted. All he did know was that no one made his heart race and his stomach knot the way memories of Kit did. But still, he didn’t know what that meant – if it meant anything at all. There was guilt there, and fear, and a nagging grief that seemed to whistle through the hole it left in his chest like wind through the rocks off the LA beach. A million emotions mixed together meant it was hard to isolate any in particular, which was just fine as far as Ty was concerned.

He went back to his room with the letter, books tucked under his arm, and put it all down on the desk. Letters were usually from his family, and he’d read it later. He hoped it was from Dru, maybe including some photos from home, or a cool piece of sea glass she thought he’d like. His desk drawer was full of trinkets from Dru; a handful of cherry blossom from his first spring away from LA, a pressed bush mallow flower that grew near the brush, the shed skin of a rattlesnake. It was just itching to be opened now. He edged a finger under the flap of the envelope and started when he saw the official Clave seal.

“Who’s it from?” Livvy asked, floating closer to read over his shoulder.

“Alec Lightwood,” Ty breathed. Alec Lightwood was a god amongst men, a personal hero of Ty’s. He was quiet and serious and unbelievably smart. Ty would never want to be Consul, but he wouldn’t mind being like Alec. His eyes scanned the letter now and his hands spasmed in excitement when he got to the end. “Livvy!”

“I saw!” she exclaimed, twirling around in her white burial gown happily.

“I am writing to you because I’m aware of your research into the nyrual demon species. We believe we may have located a pod in the New York’s Brooklyn area. We will be leading a hunt tonight at nightfall. If you can spare some time and researchers, we’d be glad to have you. Shadowhunters will be waiting for you on the corner of Fulton and Franklin from eleven tonight. Thanks in advance, Consul Alec Lightwood,” Ty read, then looked up at Livvy, wide-eyed. “Wait, eleven? That’s...that’s nine here. That’s...” He checked his phone - there was barely any service here anyway, it was functioning mostly as a clock and a notepad - and leapt to his feet. “That’s less than an hour.”

 He started strapping on gear frantically, Livvy reminding him where his knives and stele were stored. Everything felt rushed and manic, and the rest of his team didn’t even know this was happening yet. With leg holsters half-buckled and his robes streaming behind him like banners, Ty tore through the Scholomance halls, knocking on the doors to his fellow researchers’ rooms, telling them the plan one by one. By the time they were gathered by the portal, everyone drawing runes on each other with haste, Ty already felt breathless. Livvy was muttering reassurances, lingering close by. Only when the head of the Scholomance stepped forward did everyone fall silent. It was hard not to; the Scholomance was led now by Jia Penhallow, after she’d stepped down from a governmental position to spend more time with her family. Even now, the Penhallow name and her gaze commanded attention just the same way it always had.

“Centurions, you are the greatest scholars the Shadow World has to offer. This is a unique academic opportunity, a fact I’m sure is not lost on you. The Consul is counting on you. You are the next generation of graduates from this hallowed establishment. Do not let us down.”

Ty felt as if he was vibrating. His whole life had led up to this. Every day he’d spent working all night because he thought he’d found a lead, every time he was yanked out of sleep by a sudden idea that sent him running through the halls to the library in the darkness, every backhanded comment about his worth on this mission. It was leading up to this. His project, the demon he was investigating, with his research team. They were headed to New York, to the very core of modern Shadowhunter politics, and he was right there at the centre of it. He looked around at his team, who all looked back, wide-eyed. They looked alert, even though most of them had only woken up a half hour ago.

“Blackthorn, would you like to give any final instructions to your team?” Jia offered, and Ty stepped forward. Though speaking to even one of them individually in a social setting seemed like a potential threat, speaking about work was fine. This was his thing; this he could do.

“You should all have brought some containers for samples. If you can draw ichor, or remove any hide from the demon, transfer it to a sterile container as soon as possible. Anything you can take to examine later - saliva, swabs, anything - will be useful. Remember that the demon is photophobic, but this is a last resort. We want to study it, so your witchlights and any bright device is a last resort. Spread the word to Shadowhunters to avoid seraph blades where possible. The light will scare them off, and if we’re going to figure out what this demon’s modus operandi is, we need to gather intel before we can dispatch it.” He pushed his headphones over his ears, grinning. “Let’s go.”

He let the others go first, lingering back until only one of his team stayed. She glanced back at him worriedly.

“Are you seriously going to wear those to a battle?” she asked, nodding to his headphones.

“If I want to get back alive, I am,” Ty told her. She wavered but turned and leapt into the portal.

Ty took a deep breath and turned to Jia, who gave him a nod of good luck, and walked away. He looked up at Livvy, who grinned.

“Go. Your team are waiting. I’ll be right behind you.”

He nodded, shook out his hands like he was drying them to relieve some of the building anxiety, and stepped confidently into the swirling surface of the portal, his boots finding the disconcerting nothingness on the other side before the noise of the battle and the New York streets hit him in a wall of sound.

[spiltscribbles]

All The Lights Are Sparkling For You  |  Part I

~*~

“So a sixteen ounce almond latte with a pump of lavender and honey?” The barista chortles, flipping her pretty ginger hair and batting her lashes.

“Precisely gorgeous,” Kit says with a smile that makes her flush. 

“Cool, that’ll be right up.”

“Brilliant!” Kit gives two quick wraps of his knuckles against the countertop before pivoting around and sliding into the seat across from Ty, pretending as if his chest doesn’t seize at the sight of his insanely intense sea glass eyes and the pedal soft curve of his cheek.

“She likes you,” he says in that stripped down way of his before taking a bite of his sub, a bit of mayo getting on his cupids bow, and thanking Kit when he passes over a napkin.

“You flatter me Tiberius,” Kit snorts before snatching the other half and eating it himself, only partially curious of how much it might look like a date from the outside, and entirely ignoring how much he wouldn’t mind if it was.

“Everyone likes you,” Ty shrugs, blasé.

“They tell me it’s the smile.”

That makes it so Ty lets out a breathy, little laugh, and Kit can’t help but liken it to the most beautiful instrument. He’s always so proud whenever he can make it so Ty’s eyes go incandescent and there’s the slightest dimple right on the apple of his cheek, when Ty looks effortlessly beautiful and happy to be here.

Kit knows that this sleepy Oregon town on the coast is as far away from LA— where Ty was brought up— as anything could be. He knows that Ty choosing to go here for University was a way for him to strike out on his own, apart from the huge Blackthorn clan that Kit’s only ever seen pictures of, but has been exceedingly jealous of ever since. Kit knows that Ty has never really fit into his own skin here, that if it wasn’t for Kit’s constant insistence that they spend days on days together at the start of their freshman year that Ty would’ve been perfectly content keeping to hisself for the four years he’s here until he could go back home. But still, Kit also knows that they were meant to be in each others lives, in some major capacity.

He thinks back to his mother— her pale gold hair and the twinkle in her eyes— She use to always croon that the stars were set out for us, that kismet and providence would lead us to the people we’re meant to be. Kit was a little boy then, one who was to busy making a ruckus wherever he went to spare any of his time to understanding what she meant with those sort of proclamations. Even now, so many years divorced from her death, Kit doesn’t think any of his decisions were chosen before he ever knew the options, but a small part of him does like the idea that some peoples stars were lined up in the exact right breath that they were destined to cross paths and to create an entirely knew one for just the pair of them. One that was glowing and glimmering and perfect.

Kit’s sure that Ty’s one of those people— maybe the only person save for Tessa and Jem— And if he could make Ty even slightly happier than he was, then Kit considers it a job well done.

“Order up,” the barista from before chimes as she slides across the coffee and a slice of the lemon loaf. “On the house handsome,” she winks before strutting back to her post.

“I’ll take that,” Ty says before plucking the dessert from Kit’s non suspecting hand.

“Rude.”

“Life can be like that,” Ty just reasons before picking up his chirping phone, face grimacing at the sight of the text.

“Everything’s okay?” Kit asks, tentative.

“’s just Livvy.”

Kit can feel his face scrunch up in confusion. Every time Ty even alludes to his twin sister— a pixie sized, beautiful brunette with eyes that are a mirror of Ty’s own— he’s only ever beaming with light and glee and it’s probably the only times Kit looks at Ty and he seems totally whole.

“Is she alright?”

“Wonderful.” Ty intones, tossing the device to the side and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, delicate hands beginning to tap and flutter around the table in a nervous sort of tension.

Kit’s becoming even more nervous than before.

“Don’t leave me in suspense Tiberius, what’s going on?”

“Nothing… Erm ah, nothing really.” Kit levels him with his patented are you shitting me grimace. “It’s just, my older brother…”

“Mark or Julian?”

“Julian, he’s getting married.” The locomotive sized weight on Kit’s chest suddenly dissipated and he swats Ty on the forearm.

“Hey! What’s with the frown you ass! That’s great news! It’s with that pretty blonde right? Emma?”

Ty nods, still impossibly glum looking.

“Ok Tiberius, I’m really confused to the whole woe with me thing you’ve got going on right now.”

“Livvy’s designated herself the head wedding planner.”

“Alright… and the problem?”

“I just know that Dru’s bringing her boyfriend Jamie, and Helen’s bringing her wife Aline, and of course Mark’s got his Kieran and Christina-“

“Okay man, i’m seriously not following any of this but we’re going back to the bit where Mark’s got two partners apparently? Which I personally find unfair and a bit elitist.”

Ty ignores him and just continues rattling off these names that Kit only slightly recognizes.

“Magnus and Alec are gonna be there and like just stand around being better than everyone! And Jace and Clary! Definitely Isabell and Simon too!”

“Am I having a stroke? Ty as my best friend you’re obligated to tell me if I’m having a stroke.”

“You know this’s all just a big ploy by Livvy, right?” Ty charges, mouth curled.

“This wedding… The one between your brother Julian and his long time girlfriend Emma, is a ploy? A ploy by Livvy?”

“She’s worried about me! She’s always worried about me! She thinks that I’m sequestering myself here, was mad when I came home over the summer and told her I hadn’t gone out with anyone all year.”

Kit spreads out his hands, very narrowly misses toppling over his drink. “Sisters am I right?… Actually am I right, I was an only child growing up and Nian has only just begun learning her shapes so I doubt she’d be much of a comparison.”

Ty’s expression goes very, very flat.

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“And you’re so serious.”

“Look, I know Livvy, okay. This’s just part of her grand plan to finally pair me up with someone!”

“A grand plan… Kit repeats, slow and confused.

“She’s worried about me, she thinks that everyone needs like a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever to be happy.”

“I see.”

“She’s gonna try and pair me up with like somebody I don’t even know for the entire wedding! Like some way worse version of a blind date. Just you watch!”

“Aren’t weddings like only a few hours?”

“Not in Blackthorn standards,” Ty bristles, begins to spin his phone with the pop socket Kit had gotten him a couple weeks ago because it had his initials and it was a cheap version of getting something actually monogrammed, which in all his dorkitude Ty actually loves to have, has got all his pencils imprinted with his first and last names, and middle initial. It’d all be infuriating if it wasn’t so cute.

“Yo man I’m sorry, but Livvy’s got your best interest at heart, you know that.”

“I know,” Ty sighs, runs a hand through his dark hair . “I just wish she didn’t feel like responsible for me all the time.”

Kit purses his lip in discomfort, suddenly feels an intense kinship with Ty’s twin whom he’s never met. He’d like to tell Ty that it’s not a feeling of responsibility but a gesture of love. She wants to make sure he’s taken care of because her heart wouldn’t feel complete if she wasn’t doing that. Kit wants to tell him it’s not because he’s a weight on her shoulders but because he’s the first person to look at him and make Kit feel like he’s being seen. The first person to touch him softly instead of automatically assuming he’s been cut from metal and steel and brimstone. The first person to have caught and effortlessly kept Kit’s attention, the only one who’s ever made it so Kit’s skin feels like it’s been lit on fire with every surreptitious glance.

Oh, erm— Ah, but that’s all completely from livvi’s hypothetic perspective, not from Kit’s. Not at all, not even slightly.

“Mmm,” Kit clears his throat, trying to clear his head of all those sorts of thoughts, less he risk the best friendship he’s ever known. “Well Livvy obviously just wants to make sure you’re happy, I bet if you just told her that you’ve already found a date for the wedding she won’t bother to try and play matchmaker.”

Kit’s taken aback when he sees an all too familiar gleam in Ty’s gorgeous eyes and his head popping up in sudden, acute excitement.

“Yes! Brilliant! Totally! Watson you’re a genius!”

Kit can’t help but preen, feels a warmth coiling deep inside him at the sparks Ty’s quite literally radiating.

“I’m glad you’ve finally came to the light Tiberius.”

“You’ll come then?”

“Oh, ah, what?”

“To the wedding! You’ll pretend to be my date, in a romantic sense I mean.”

“Ahh,” Kit feels like he’s been succor punched, is especially confused to this parody of what he’s been privately wishing to hear for over a year now. “Run that by me again?”

“you’re a genius!” Ty crows, fists clenched and smile bright. “It’s not even that large of a leap! You’re the only person I tell them about and I bet if I tell her now that we’ve begun dating she wouldn’t even prod when I bring you to the wedding in January!”

Kit still feels very much so out of the loop.

“THey’d probably want you to spend Christmas with us too, would that be alright with you? You guys don’t really celebrate right? Jem’s a Buddhist and you said Tessa is atheist right?”

“Ah… yeah?”

“Oh awesome! I’ll call her and tell her now!” Ty leaps out of his chair, gathers Kit in for a tight hug before scurrying off to a quieter corner of the union to chat with Livvy.

“Wait, what just happened?” is all Kit can manage out, blinking owlish in Ty’s wake.

[writing-in-verse]

The Bird and The Bees (and The Blackthorns) Part Three

Part three of my collaboration with @ti-bae-rius! you can read Part One and Part Two here! Click here for Lauryn’s Headcanon list! The master-list should be linked here too once everything is up.

Enjoy!

Kit was hiding. At least, that was the unofficial reason he was in the library and not in his room or wandering the halls of the Institute where he could be found by Julian or Emma. It had been a few days since Magnus and Alec’s wedding on the beach in front of the Institute, an event which had caused murmuring among the Blackthorns about Julian and Emma’s late-night display of affection. These murmurs and mutters had prompted Julian to hesitantly propose that his younger siblings should learn ‘the facts of life’, something Kit was not keen to hear about from Julian Blackthorn of all people.

He was first ambushed by Emma the day after the wedding in the armoury when he was with Dru, teaching her how to effectively pickpocket. Kit was wearing a jacket adorned with bells secured by safety pins and Dru was repeatedly putting her hand in the side pocket, trying to get the Herondale ring that was placed inside without disturbing any of the bells. A slight cough from behind them had Kit and Dru both jumping, the coat’s chime echoing off the walls.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” Emma remarked with a devilish smirk that indicated she’d been watching for more than a few minutes.

“Training,” Kit replied, his composure brought under control and honed into a confident swagger as fast as it was ruffled. His knack for this was a Herondale trait, or so he’d been told. He turned to Dru. “For all your Shadowhunter talk about style and grace, you really struggle to pick pockets.”

“Really, Christopher?” Dru glared at him while using his full name, a privilege she’d claimed for herself. Kit just shrugged back and gave her a wink.

In fact, Dru had been pretty successful in picking up this skill like she did any other Kit had taught her; managing to look inconspicuous without a glamour, following a target in a busy crowd (that had been an interesting day out), and the ever-popular class of ‘how to lie convincingly’. Her being a Shadowhunter had made many of these skills second-nature for Dru, but it was clear she trained in fighting demons, not dealing with people.

“Well,” Emma said, suddenly a lot more uncomfortable than she was five seconds prior. Body language, that was another important lesson, something more politically experienced Shadowhunters picked up. But demons didn’t really have complex body language, just different levels of murder. “Seen as you’re in the educational mood, Julian wants to start teaching you all about…getting older.”

“Are you going to tell us that we’re definitely going to stop growing, because I have only just gotten comfortable with the idea and do not want anyone to put that much personal therapy in turmoil,” Dru said, hiding her confusion behind humour.

“Oh no.” Kit had gone white, then started to go red and began to slowly make his away to the door. “I should get going, this sounds like a family thing…and I’m sure Dru doesn’t…I’ll just see myself out.”

“Not so fast, Herondale. I think it might be best if you were here for this.” Emma gave him a knowing smile, and Kit wondered if he should tell her it was another Blackthorn sibling he was pining after.

He started to laugh and gave Dru a look that told her everything she needed to know about what Emma thought. It was this aspect of having a close friend, communicating through expression and looks alone, that still delighted Kit and he thought he was putting it to fantastic use. Before Dru could succinctly tell Emma just how hilariously off-base she was, Emma continued.

“Look, you’re growing up Dru, and it’s normal for boys to start giving you some extra attention. Even more so when your body starts to…change.” Emma was trying to be as tactful as she could and waited for any reaction from Dru. She wasn’t expecting the one she got.

No amount of training in composure could have stopped Dru from bursting out laughing, vaguely gesturing to her chest and continuing to laugh for a solid minute. Eventually, she regained her composure and headed towards the door, Kit on her heels, taking the opportunity to make his own escape.

“Oh, by the way,” Dru said, turning to Emma before leaving the training room. “Kit’s a pretty good-looking guy - I mean he’s a Herondale; it’s practically cheating - but he is really not my type. No offence, Kit.”

“None taken,” Kit replied, smirking at her. He thought a lot of Dru, knew she would make someone very happy one day, but he had eyes for only one black-haired boy and, even if he hadn’t told her about Ty, he had a feeling she knew and that when he was ready to tell her she’d support him wholeheartedly.

That was about half a day ago, give or take; Kit hadn’t brought his phone to the library with him and he’d practically lived here since Emma had attempted to teach him about his friend’s anatomy. Dru knew where he was, and he’d asked her to tell Ty in case the other boy needed him. She knew her brother had spent almost every night in Kit’s room, that it had become his routine, so she understood Kit’s request. Well, she understood an aspect of it; she didn’t understand that Kit wanted to see Ty more than anyone but so far, he hadn’t come looking.

Kit was using the time to do some research, learning as much about practical Shadowhunter skills as he could, which he’d started by learning runes. Scanning the contents page of an old bound green book, he suddenly noticed there was a note on the inside page warning to only study one rune at a time that seemed quite serious. He decided to start working on the rune for fire. This was partly because Kit was fifteen and setting fire to things sounded fun, but also because he’d heard of fire messages and wanted to learn how to send them to people – Ty being at the top of that list.

He’d just gotten comfortable drawing the rune with some confidence and was about to send something to Dru (he both found the idea of sending her a message like this funny and wanted to show her he was learning her life as much as she was his) when he heard the door opening. He dived down a space between two shelves and crouched low, hoping no one would bother to look too hard.

“Dru?”

“Livvy?” Kit walked out of his hiding spot. “Dru isn’t here, I haven’t seen her since early today when we were ambushed by Emma.”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to her one-on-one, but I’ve barely seen her.” Livvy looked disheartened, and Kit wondered what the matter was but didn’t want to push. “What are you doing in here? Is that the Gray Book?”

“It is, in fact, a green book. I didn’t think it had much particular significance, although it does suggest to not read too many runes at once,” Kit shrugged.

“The Book of Gramarye is a book where all the runes are stored for Shadowhunters to learn. You should only read one rune at a time because the mind is pretty fragile, so reading too many runes causes headaches or worse, depending on how many you read.”

“So, not a book to read casually then?”

“That’s probably not wise.” She peered over his shoulder at his notes curiously. “Is that that the fire rune? What would you be learning that rune for?” She looked at him with brows raised.

“I heard you could send messages to people. I thought if I learnt I could send them to you, or Ty, or Dru,” Kit replied in a rare moment of level-headed tenderness. He’d gotten used to the Blackthorns and had allowed himself to trust them in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone else.

“So, you’re hiding from Julian and Emma to learn how to send secret messages to your boyfriend? That’s pretty cute, Kit; didn’t think you had it in you,” Livvy smiled, enjoying the slight jab. “If we were to judge your romantic creativity by our first kiss, I’d say you’re really outdoing yourself.”

“You’re forgetting that you asked to be kissed, and Ty…is Ty my boyfriend? Are we making it that official? It’s not that I don’t like Ty: I do, it just feels like our first kiss wasn’t long ago. It’s also weird to be calling it ‘our first kiss’ don’t you think?” Kit attempted to smirk as he went and sat in his seat, closing the Gray Book, but Livvy could see his shoulders were tense and the humour didn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah, that is weird. I don’t think I’d want to kiss you again. No offense.”

Kit laughed. “You know, you’re the second Blackthorn girl to tell me that today. It’s starting to wound my pride. You’re right though; I’ve always liked girls, but then Ty comes into my life and I start questioning everything. I want to hide behind jokes and, apparently, library books because I don’t know how to feel.”

“Before you came crashing into our lives, or Ty came crashing into your basement, we didn’t know anyone outside of the Institute. I was always with Ty trying to help him make sense of things that I still didn’t understand myself. You’re fifteen Kit, you have time to work it out, and until then just do what feels right.”

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course,” Livvy nodded, sitting down beside him in the little alcove they were tucked in. “What is it?”

“I…I always thought I was straight until I met Ty. When I kissed you, I liked it, but it wasn’t like when I kiss Ty. When Ty and I are together, I feel more complete. Ty is like…an anchor, when I feel overwhelmed. When he started sleeping on my floor I actually slept more soundly than when he wasn’t there, and then the first night he slept in my bed I never felt safer.” Kit was just staring at the floor without really looking at it, instead seeing things only he could. “I remember the first time we kissed,” he continued after a moment. “For the first time, I wasn’t thinking about any of this, I was just thinking of Ty and how much I wanted to be there and nowhere else. Then I began to…register what I was feeling and how it felt…right, but it was so different to anything I felt before. At first, I was terrified I’d made some mistake and I’d hurt Ty trying to explain, then I was scared he was just experimenting on someone safe and it wouldn’t happen again, but it did. I wanted that, I still do, but I don’t know what that makes me. Am I gay? Am I straight? Does it matter? I really like Ty, but what if I hurt him trying to work that out?”

Livvy thought over what Kit had told her and wondered how to respond. Kit and Ty’s relationship was so new that neither were ready for any next steps, and yet Livvy herself had so little experience in how to handle a romantic relationship, she had no idea how to advise someone else’s.

“I guess, you take it all one day at a time. I don’t know what that looks like or how hard it will be, but I’m always here for you Kit for as long as that takes. Also, don’t worry about trying to label yourself, just focus on being happy,” she smiled and got up, glancing once more down at the Gray Book. “I think it’s cute what you’re trying to do, but you need to be more patient when drawing the rune, there’s a certain grace that comes from using a Stele.”

“I’ve seen you guys draw these runes in seconds. I don’t want to ask the demon if he can wait around because I failed art class.”

“You need to slow down. It needs to be accurate to work.” She gestured abstractly with her hands and Kit smirked. “Where did you get the stele from anyway? I didn’t think anyone had the time to give you one let alone teach you how to use it.”

“Julian gave me one, and then Ty replaced it with one of his old ones.”

“Oh,” Livvy replied, eyebrows raised. “Ty never gives his possessions away. He really likes you. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Kit said, looking suddenly serious. “I just hope I don’t let him down.”

“You never could. He doesn’t just go and sleep in anyone else’s room apart from mine, and you’re the first person from outside the family to properly understand him.” She levelled her eyes and held Kit’s stare. “When you’re ready to tell the others about you and Ty, the whole family will support you. Julian’s overbearing at times and Helen will always want to protect us, but you’re a part of the family now and everyone can see how happy you make Ty.”

“Thank you, Livvy,” Kit gave her a warm and affectionate smile.

“It’s cool,” she shrugged. “Now, I’m going to track down Dru. Good luck hiding from the rest of the family. I hear Julian is calling in Magnus and Alec for some queer sex education and let me assure you, Magnus will not let you miss a single lesson if only for his own enjoyment. I also think it might be good for you, if you’re willing.”

“Thanks, Livvy, but I’ll take my chances for now. Good luck finding Dru; I wish I could help but I’ve just been so busy all day.” He gave her a wicked grin. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you, Kit.”

Livvy turned and left the library, musing over the discussion she’d just had with her brother’s...partner? Boyfriend? This was early days, she told herself, there didn’t need to be labels for any of it. She hoped both of them could work out their insecurities, but the conversation only made her realise her own lack of experience. It was strange; Ty was seemingly growing faster than her, and she felt like life was leaving her behind. With a final sigh Livvy set off to find her sister, hoping they’d be able to work through all this together.

[searchforthescars]

for the prompts: “i’m so sorry” and you can write for whoever you’re feeling the most ;)

hahahahaha so this took way too long and I’m so sorry BUT it’s almost 4k words so maybe that makes it better??

HERE BE QOAAD SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

So basically after I read the Thule section of QOAAD I wanted to write something in which Livvy comes back to her family. Partially, it’s because it’s an angsty/heartbreaking/wonderful concept, and also because I wanted an excuse to examine Livvy’s trauma.

So here, enjoy. (:

Her family knows she’s coming. They’re prepared; in fact, Tessa says Julian is beside himself with excitement. Livia thinks she’s ready, too. The new Los Angeles Enclave is in Diana’s capable hands. Maia and Bat and all the rest of her council have practically begged her to leave.

Tessa tells Livia that the smart thing, the Blackthorn thing to do was to go. Looking back, that’s probably the thing that convinces her.

“You’re loyal,” Tessa says, brushing a stray hair from Livia’s cheek. “All Blackthorns are. You’re loyal and smart and strong, and you don’t know what to do when you aren’t needed.”

“I’m not,” Livia whispers. “Not anymore. Diana doesn’t need me, and neither do Bat or Raphael or-”

“I know,” Tessa says. “But your family does. Your loss tore a hole in them that nothing can repair. You know Julian wants you there. He invited you once and you said no because of duty. Because of loyalty. But now, I think it’s time.”

Livia nods. Tessa summons a Portal. As Livia steps forward, Tessa touches her shoulder, right above her tattoo.

“I hope there is a day when you no longer feel the need to wear this,” she says sadly.

Livia forces a smile, a tiny close-lipped thing. “Me too.”

Her eyes sweep the sea, the sand, the caves. She thinks of Cameron, his body walled inside the Silent City. She thinks of Rafael and Diana and Maia and all the others that have loved her fiercely, trusted her willingly. She thinks of the scorches in the marble and concrete of the Grove where a body once burned. She thinks of executions. She thinks of victories.

“Go,” Tessa says clearly. “Go, Livia Blackthorn.”

Livia steps forward. The last thing she sees before the Portal closes around her is the sun rising over the horizon of the new Los Angeles.

The first thing she sees when she opens her eyes is a very worried Emma hovering over her."You're lucky I didn’t sit up," Livia says, picturing their foreheads smacking together.Her voice sounds rough to her own ears. She was trying for a dry tone, but her voice just sounds...empty.

Emma winces and leans back, allowing Livia to sit up. “You should take it easy,” Emma says nervously. “You ended up on the beach, probably a little dehydrated.”

“I’m fine,” Livia groans. Her head pounds, but she sits up anyway, swinging her legs over the side of the infirmary bed and taking in a room she hasn't seen properly in almost ten years.

She can't make herself think about the Institute or her family or the fact that she is now in a world in which she doesn't truly belong. The immensity of it will crush her. So she looks up at Emma and asks the only question that makes sense in that moment.

"Where is my family?"

In Emma's defense, she did warn Livia that barging into Julian's attic-turned-studio would give him a heart attack. In Livia's defense, she wanted to see her big brother again.

“Julian?” she calls from one side of the door. On the other side, she hears a thump and a crash. “Jules? It’s-”

The door flies open. Julian tosses a paintbrush aside and stares at her.

“You have paint on your forehead,” she tells him after a moment, trying to be normal. Trying to be okay.

“Livvy,” Julian breathes, reaching for her, wrapping her in a hug. Like she did in her office, Livia leans her forehead against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of turpentine and paint, cloves and mint.

“It’s okay,” Julian murmurs. Livia’s heart clenches. Is it? “You’re okay now, baby girl. It’s okay.”

She lets him hold her and pretends not to notice when he cries. She wonders, distantly, if she should feel guilty for the dryness of her eyes.

The most gratifying reunion thus far is when Drusilla barrels into the kitchen, grabs a water bottle from the fridge and completely blows past Livia.

“Wait!” she hears Dru shout from outside. “HOLY SHIT!”

“Language, Drusilla!” Julian scolds from near the sink, but he’s smiling as Dru races back into the kitchen, nearly tripping over a chair, and wraps Livia into a crushing hug.

“Are you real?” Dru asks her sister, voice thick with tears. “Are you staying?”

Livia nods, reaching up - up? When did Dru get so tall? - to stroke her sister’s hair. “I’m staying.”

Dru pulls back. Her eyes immediately go to the scar running across Livia’s face. A sudden memory jolts Livia: their mother, standing in the kitchen, her eyes immediately fixating on any flaw in a shirt, a face, a painting.

“You look so much like Mom,” Livia whispers.

Dru reaches out to touch Livia’s cheek. “You look so much like yourself.” She taps the scar. “Except this. How did you get this? It’s so badass!”

“Language,” Julian chides again, giving the pasta on the stove a jab with a fork.

Dru rolls her eyes. “Jules, I’ve heard you and Emma in your room. You use way worse, and way more explicit language.”

Julian groans and mutters something under his breath. Livia can’t help but laugh.

“Come see me soon?” Dru asks. “We have so much to talk about.”

Livia nods. “Whenever you want.”

In retrospect, Livia should have asked Julian why he was cooking. She also should have changed clothes into something this dimension’s Livia would wear. But instead, she wanders the Institute that feels like a stranger’s home, and makes a mental list.

What I Know:

She finds the room that belonged to another version of her without any trouble. It’s right across from Ty’s, the only door with dust on the knob. There are pen marks on the doorframe: her height, and Ty’s, marked out year by year, stopping at age 15.

Livia touches her name. It’s not her given name, but a nickname she hasn’t heard in years. She adds to her list: Everyone called this Livia ‘Livvy’

She opens the closet. It’s modestly full of dresses, long sweaters, shapeless shirts and many, many sets of gear. She can’t imagine wearing any of the dresses. She pulls one from the closet - a green sleeveless dress with a short chiffon skirt and a low back - and laughs to herself. The other Livia liked dresses and gear.

She wanders over to the desk. It’s neat, like her desk at the Bradbury, only with more books: Sherlock Holmes, advanced calculus, computer science and programming.

Something in the back of her mind itches. She reaches for the calculus book and flips it open, batting away the dust that rises up from the pages. The numbers are familiar, but the problems are foreign.

This Livia was smart.

She sits down. The desk chair creaks. Someone other than her must have sat here; the seat is too high. She lowers it until her feet touch the floor.

“You’re shorter than you were here.”

Livia whips around to the door. Emma leans against the doorframe, body language easy, eyes hard. “Sorry,” she says, lifting her hands. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Livia shrugs. “It’s okay.” She looks down at her hands. Did the other Livia have these scars? “It makes sense. During our formative years, we were malnourished.”

Emma raises an eyebrow. “‘Our’?”

Livia feels herself flinch internally. Emma sighs. “You did that here, too,” she says, almost wistfully. “Talked about yourselves as if you were a unit.”

“We were,” Livia says, almost defensively. Two factions of emotion war within her. On one hand, she dislikes the implied denouncement of her relationship with her twin. On the other, it’s been so long since she’s talked about her family without the conversation surrounding their deaths.

Emma’s eyes go to the desk. “You know calculus?”

“I know math.” Livia cracks one of her knuckles. “I don’t know if I know this much of it, though.”

The corner of Emma’s mouth twitches. “I think you’ll figure it out.”

Livia doubts it, but she doesn’t say anything. Emma turns to leave, then looks back. “Livvy,” she says, her voice impossibly soft. “Don’t worry about trying to fit into a mold of another person. Just be you.”

“I’m not-” Livia chokes on the lump rising in her throat. She swallows, tries again. “I’m not what- who you lost. I want to be. I don’t want to cause anyone any more pain. But I can’t pretend forever. And I don’t know what you want from me.”

Emma twists the ring on her left hand around her finger. Livia sees the thorns emblazoned on the silver band and tries not to smile. “At your core, you are the girl we lost. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but take it from someone who knew you since the day you were born, you are.”

“How?” Livia asks dubiously.

Emma thinks for a moment. “After Julian hugged you in Thule, you touched his face. You patted it, as if the shape of his features comforted you. You’ve been doing that since you were a little girl.”

Livia sniffs, once. Emma strides forward to wrap Livia in a hug, her head against the older girl’s chest. It’s a little awkward with the chair between them, but welcome in a strange way.

“The way you talk is the same,” Emma continues, her chin resting atop Livia’s head. “You stand the same way, too. And there’s a very specific way you say your twin’s name that no one could hope to replicate, even if they tried.”

She pulls back, kneels before Livia, and takes her face in her hands. The Blackthorn family ring is cold against Livia’s cheek. After a moment, Emma takes her hand away, pulls off the ring, and hands it to Livia. “Here.”

Livia shakes her head. “That’s- that’s yours. From Julian. I can’t-”

Emma presses it into her palm. “I’ll get another one.” She smiles. “Julian would want you to have it.”

“What do I want?” Julian asks from the hall. Livia holds up the ring. Julian grins. “Yeah. You’re right. Put it on, Livs.”

Livia does. It’s a strangely familiar weight on her hand. Emma kisses her forehead, and she and Julian leave her be.

Livia turns to the desk, to the book full of pencil markings. On instinct, she opens the top left-hand desk drawer, where her desk in the Bradbury held paper and pens.

There, rattling in the desk, are pencils. And, beside them, a notebook full of blank pages.

Despite herself, Livia smiles.

She’s mid-way through her twentieth problem when Octavian barges into the room. “Livvy!” he shouts, flying at her, hugging her tightly. “I missed you! I missed you!”

“I missed you too,” Livia murmurs, rubbing Tavvy’s back. He’s small for a ten-year-old; she can feel his ribs and spine against her palm. “Where have you been all day?”

“I went to the beach with Mark and Tina and Ty,” he says. He pulls away and reaches into his pocket, presenting her with a near-perfect sand dollar. “Look!”

Livia feels her heart start to race at the mention of her twin’s name. She pushes her emotions aside and takes the sand dollar in her hand. “It’s beautiful, Tavvy.”

“You can keep it,” he says, earnest. “Mark says they bring good luck.”

“You need good luck, it seems,” Mark says, entering the room without so much as a hello. He sits on the edge of her bed and winces. “I forget how hard you like your mattresses.”

Livia laughs. “Hi, Mark.”

He smiles at her. “We’ll talk later,” he murmurs as Tavvy continues to chatter about the ocean and seashells and a seagull that took it upon itself to chase Cristina Rosales halfway down the beach.

When Tavvy takes a breath, Mark interjects. “Weren’t you sent here to tell Livia something?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tavvy grabs her hand. “Can you come to the library? We want to surprise Ty.”

“Surprise Ty?” Livia repeats, looking over at Mark for confirmation. “He doesn’t usually like surprises, Tavvy.”

“We figured if we told him, he’d bolt,” Dru says, poking her head into the room. “Come on. He’s getting suspicious.”

Wordlessly, Livia follows her siblings down to the library. She schools her features into the blank expression of calm she perfected over years of leadership, but inside, she’s quaking. She can feel her hands shaking at her sides. Her arms are slowly going numb. Her heart is racing, and she can feel her breath quickening.

She’s nervous, she supposes. And terrified. What if he doesn’t want me? What if he hates me?

“He won’t hate you,” Mark says, as if reading her thoughts. When they reach the library, he hangs back with her. “As surely as I know the sun rises in the east, I know that Tiberius could never hate you.”

Livia looks up at him. “Why are you talking like that?”

Mark laughs. “It’s a long story.” Livia opens her mouth, and Mark shushes her. “No, Livvy.” He pushes the door open. “You have to go in.”

So she does. Ty is leaning over a table, studying something in a thin, black notebook. “The shadow needs to be darker,” he’s telling Julian, who crosses his arms and leans against a bookshelf.

“Now you’re giving me artistic advice?” he asks, bemused.

Ty stands up straight. Livia feels her eyes widen in shock. He’s tall. He’s grown up. He’s practically a man now. “You asked for my opinion, Julian.”

Julian smiles, his eyes on Livia’s. “That I did.”

“What are you looking at?” Ty asks, turning. The moment his eyes meet her’s, Livia wants to bolt.

I can’t do this, she thinks, mouth dry. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t.

You have to, she tells herself sternly. Her resolve - the same resolve she had when she stood on a cliff’s edge, prepared to blow her brother’s head off with a shotgun - strengthens. You have to.

The twins regard one another from across the library. Ty's hands flutter at his sides, then go still.

"Livvy?"

Livia opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. So she nods. Yes, it's me. Yes, I'm here.

Ty strides forward until they're an arm's length from one another. His eyes trace the scar on her face. She can see the conflict in his eyes, a push and pull he can’t resolve. A part of her is relieved. She can still read him. On some tiny level, she still knows him.

Behind Ty, Julian watches them. Livia can see the fear in his eyes, the silent prayer that Ty won't push her away.

She wouldn't blame Ty if he did. She's a transplant, after all; it would make sense for him to reject her like mundane bodies reject a foreign heart or lung or limb.

She looks down at Ty’s hands, now barely shaking. They look strong. They’re climber’s hands, she realizes, and then she has to tamp down the rising memories of knives and demons, water and blood.

Ty links his pinky with hers. She looks up sharply, physically jolting at the sensation, then nearly yelps when Ty pulls her to him, wrapping her in a tight one-armed hug.

“Livvy,” he says again, voice rough. Tentatively, she wraps her free arm around his waist, her upper arm still pinned by his. “Livia.”

"I'm sorry," she gasps against his shoulder. It’s all she can say. He trembles against her, the hand now holding hers spasming. "I'm so sorry, Ty."

He lifts their connected hands and places her other arm over his shoulder. He buries his face in her neck. She can feel the tears on his cheeks.

“Hold me,” he mutters. “Livvy, please.”

She does. She squeezes him tight and tight and tighter, until they may as well be the same person. He responds in kind, tangling his fingers in her hair, smoothing his hand up and down her back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again when he pulls away. “I’m so sorry.”

Ty studies her face. Carefully, he touches a hand to the scar on her cheek. “You didn’t cry,” he says. “Why aren’t you crying? There are tears in your eyes.”

Livia shakes her head. “I don’t deserve to cry,” she says. “I left you. Not the other way around.”

“I left you in your world,” Ty counters. Despite herself, Livia flinches. “And clearly it bothers you.”

“You have no idea,” Livia whispers.

“Actually,” Ty says softly, the saddest smile crossing his face, “I do.”

She does cry, eventually. After Ty disentangles himself from her to get something from his room and Julian sees himself out, she sinks to her knees on the library floor and wraps her arms around her torso. It’s cold comfort, but it’s all she can do to keep herself together.

She remembers the last time she did this. It was when she lost Dru, the last of her family. She collapsed on the office floor and wrapped her arms around herself, digging her fingers into the spaces between her ribcage as if she could break her own heart via her lungs.

Cameron had found her then. He sat with her, his hand on her back, and let her cry ugly, heaving sobs until her energy was spent. She hasn’t cried since. Not until now.

Before she even registers the tears, they’re falling, one after the other until she’s sobbing, biting on her fist to keep from making noise, twisting her shirt in her fingers to stop herself from shaking.

I’m sorry, she thinks, although about what, or to whom, she’s not sure. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“Don’t be sorry,” she hears Ty say, and she knows she shouldn’t be speaking aloud, knows she should stop, knows she should pull it together for him, but all she can do is reach up for him and pull him down to sit beside her.

“Livvy,” Ty sighs, guiding her head to lean on his shoulder, wiping her tears with a soft hand. “It’s okay, Livvy. You’re home now. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you again.”

“They didn’t hurt me,” she gasps. “That’s the point. Everyone else hurt. Everyone else died.” Her voice rises in a heartbroken howl. “And I got to live! It’s not fair!”

Ty is silent for a moment. Then, “I wrote you something.”

Livia lifts her head. “What?” She dashes tears from her cheeks.

Ty holds up an envelope. “I got your letter. But it burned when-” he cuts himself off, color rising to his cheeks. “But I thought...if someone ever went back to Thule, maybe I could reach you.” He places the envelope on the floor in front of her. “You don’t have to read it now. But I wanted you to have it.”

Livia dries her tears. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For everything.”

Ty shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything.” He locks his pinky with hers. “You saved yourself. Here, you saved Julian. And now you’re back, and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

It takes her a moment to realize he’s teasing. When she does, she smiles.

“I was wrong,” he says softly, standing up and offering her a hand. She takes it; he easily pulls her to her feet. “When Julian first told me about you, I was wrong.”

Livia frowns. “About what?”

Ty bends down to pick up the letter. He extends it to her, and she takes it. “You are my Livvy.”

In the middle of the night, Livia wakes up.

She may have had a nightmare; she’s not sure, since she can’t remember whatever dream pulled her from sleep to waking, but, in any case, she’s up now. So she turns on the light, smiling fondly when she sees Ty curled up, asleep on her floor, and reaches for his letter.

Livvy,

When Julian told me about you, I told him you weren’t my Livvy. I believed that, too, up until now. Now, upon further reflection, I think you might be. Everything Julian told me makes sense now. Of course you would have started a rebellion. Of course you would have kept us together. Of course you’re leading the survivors of the Dark War. I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, honestly. You’re a warrior, Livvy. It’s what you do. You protect people from the things that hurt them. You protected me from the world. You protected me from myself.

I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. In this world, you wanted to be parabatai, and I said no. I told you I would always protect you and stand with you anyway; why did we need a pair of runes and an oath? Now, I wish I hadn’t. I held you back, and I didn’t protect you when you needed it most. Logically, I know I was too far away to save you, but you have to know that I would have died for you.

I wish I could have died with you. It isn’t fair that you’re gone and I’m here. It isn’t fair that I’m gone in your world, either. At least here, I have my family. There, you’re all alone.

Maybe there’s a dimension where we’re together. I hope so. I miss you, Livvy. More than anything. I wish the version of you reading this could tell me how long it takes for the world to right itself under the twinless twin’s feet. Because I think my world will always be off-axis.

There’s nothing if you aren’t here.

I love you, Livvy.

-Ty

“You finally get to read it.”

“What the hell?” Livia hisses, lurching back against the headboard. In front of her, at the foot of the bed, hovers a ghostly visage: a younger version of herself with longer hair and an unblemished face in a long white dress. “You’re-”

“I’m you,” Ghost Livia says. She smiles softly. “This is kind of cool, actually.” She cocks her head to the side, seemingly studying Livia’s face. “I’m badass in your dimension, huh?” She crosses her arms. “Let me guess, you hate the scar.”

“How is this-”

“Ty will tell you,” Ghost Livia says. “He’ll tell you everything.” Some unrecognizable emotion crosses her face. “I have to go now,” she says, a little mournfully. “Soul theory is a strange thing. You and I are tied somehow, just like Ty and I are bound. I don’t know all of how it works, but there’s enough of you in me, and me in you, where I can’t stay here.”

Livia nods. “It makes sense. Our timelines were the same at one point.”

Ghost Livia smiles down at Ty, still asleep on the floor. “I don’t have to tell you to take care of him. I know you will. Just…” she searches his face. “Don’t leave him again. We’re not meant to be separated.”

Livia nods. “I won’t. I swear.”

Ghost Livia sighs. She tilts her head up, as if looking at the sky. “Tell Ty I love him,” she says. “Tell him you love him too.”

As Livia watches, Ghost Livia disappears. Ty wakes up with a start, blinking as if adjusting to the light.

“She’s gone,” he says, emotionless.

Livia nods. “I’m sorry.”

Ty shakes his head, clambering up to sit beside her. “I’m not.” He leans into her, bumping her arm with his forehead like a cat until she lifts her arm to encircle his shoulders. “I have something much better.”

She kisses the top of his head and smooths down his messy hair. Her own voice echoes in her head. I kissed him. I told him I loved him.

“I love you, my Ty,” she whispers. When he doesn’t answer, she looks down and smiles when she sees he’s asleep. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”