heterophobiclightworm

[heterophobiclightworm]

after seeing heartstopper i just. really really want will gao to play jem. he's the right age for tid era jem, and he's musically talented and i just think it would be perfect

#infernal devices #jem carstairs

[heterophobiclightworm]

Thomas and Alastair in chain of iron! <3

characters belong to @cassandraclare

[heterophobiclightworm]

Me after today’s installment of Secrets of Blackthorn Hall

[heterophobiclightworm]

Emma to Bruce

Dear Bruce,

It’s tea time. Now that Jules and I are living in England we are trying to embrace the concept of tea time, though as you already know I prefer to take my caffeine in the form of chocolate. (Unlike Cristina, who is literally addicted to coffee.) Chocolate chip cookies, brownie bars, ice cream—any form of chocolate is welcome and acceptable, and there is excellent chocolate in England. I have become addicted to Galaxy bars.

Julian is outside talking to the contractors — I can see Round Tom waving his arms around about something — so I thought I’d take a moment to fill you in on what happened since my last entry.

If you recall, we found a silver flask at the Devil Tavern that seemed to set off all Ty’s Ghost Detector alarms. It was a beautiful flask . . . etched with flowers and butterfly wings, and the initials MF. We brought it back to Blackthorn Hall and had a look at it in the bright light of day, where I immediately remembered where I’d seen that butterfly design before.

On the Fairchild family ring.

I know this because of Clary. (I don’t spend a lot of time staring at her jewelry, Bruce, but Shadowhunters are pretty into family symbols, generally speaking. And there was that time I borrowed her jacket in Faerie and then went to Thule and everyone thought she was dead because her ring was in the pocket…but that’s a story for another time. I’ve got enough to document in the present.) So Jules and I agreed that whoever owned this flask was likely a Fairchild whose first name began with M. Genius-level Sherlock detecting, I know.

Over a lunch of toasted cheese sandwiches we decided it would be better to do a little more diligent research rather than diving right in and asking the ghost ARE YOU A FAIRCHILD, Y/N. So we sent a fire message to Helen and Aline. There are several old Shadowhunter family histories in the LA Institute library, and we asked them to have a look for Fairchilds who had first names beginning with the letter M. I guess Helen was up early, because she got back to us pretty quickly with a short list of candidates. Medea Fairchild, Myles Fairchild, and Matthew Fairchild. It wasn’t clear from the records whether any of them are ancestors of Clary, but I am curious! (I personally hope Medea is, because that is a badass mythological name.) Anyway it didn’t take us long to nominate a candidate for Owner of the Silver Flask. (Drumroll, please, Bruce.) The candidate is….Matthew Fairchild!

We deduced this because Medea died in 1802 at the age of seventy-eight, and Myles died in 1857 at fifty-nine. So, given the timeframe we’re looking at—Jem said his friends were hanging out at the Devil Tavern during the early part of the last century—Matthew, born in 1886, was the only one who fit the bill. (There wasn’t a death date for him, apparently, which doesn’t mean he lived forever or died at birth, records from around that time tend to be spotty.)

Without further ado, we returned to the dining room to contact our mystery ghost. I swear, even though we’ve swept it multiple times, that room just seems to get dustier and dustier. I’d left some papers from the Blackthorn archives (which is a kind way of saying “from the pile of junk with occasional interesting stuff in it”) stacked on the dining table, and they were all in disarray. It made me wonder if the ghost was trying to read them in our absence.

Julian cleared his throat. “Attention, ghost,” he began.

“Maybe they don’t like being called ‘ghost’,” I hissed under my breath. “Maybe we should refer to them as ‘Deceased Person.’”

“That sounds medical,” said Julian. “Like we’re in a morgue.”

We both became dispirited about the idea of being in a morgue. After a moment’s thought, Julian said, “How about wraith or phantom?”

The curtains stirred even though the windows weren’t open. Apparently phantom was the popular choice.

“Matthew?” I said, slowly. “Matthew Fairchild?”

It’s a nice name, Matthew. I thought about Matthew Fairchild, born in 1886, and wondered what he’d been like. Wondered if all that was left of him was a breath of air stirring the curtains in our dining room.

Though the curtains weren’t stirring right now. They were utterly still.

“Are you Matthew Fairchild?” Jules asked, clearly deciding we needed to be more specific.

The curtains gave what I can only describe as an annoyed little shake. This stirred up some more dust, which made the air hazy. I heard a noise behind me and whirled around. The stack of papers on the table tipped over. Papers were being flung in all directions, by an unseen, angry hand.

“So — you’re not Matthew Fairchild?” I said, fighting the urge to sneeze. “Look, it’s fine if you aren’t — we just want to help — we’ll keep looking —”

The papers stopped flying. The room was quiet again. Hushed, even, like the inside of an Institute. I guessed our phantom friend had departed and I realized I was disappointed. I’d really been hoping we’d find an answer . . .

Then Julian laid his hand on my arm. And pointed. Goosebumps exploded across my skin. In the dust on the floor, an invisible finger was writing words — writing in the old-fashioned cursive that had become familiar since our arrival at Blackthorn Hall.

One by the one, the words appeared, the letters shaky and spiky, as if the ghost were agitated.

Read the diary

The imagine of Tatiana’s diary sprang into my mind. I knew, somehow, that was the diary the ghost was referring to. More words appeared:

READ THE DIARY

READ THE DIARY

READ THE DIARY

“But I have,” I said, without thinking. “I have read the diary.”

Julian turned to look at me, a blank expression of surprise spreading across his face. “Emma,” he said. “What diary?”

#oh i am sick #if it's matthew: that's fucked #if it's not matthew but another of the merry thieves: that's fucked #i know like obviously.... they're all dead in 'current' canon time but :( #also matthew not having a death date is certainly..interesting

[heterophobiclightworm]

WILL HERONDALE “Life is a book and there are a thousand pages I have not yet read."(x)

[heterophobiclightworm]

Make me choose: @disastrousdesidumbass asked; Raphael Santiago or George Lovelace?

Keep reading

[heterophobiclightworm]

😍😍😍 I'm in LOVE with this piece by daylightgrey

(Permission to post by the artist)

[heterophobiclightworm]

Emma to Dru

Dear Dru,

Hey, baby bat! So how’s Shadowhunter Academy? Still having a good time? How’s the roommate — Thais, isn’t that her name? How’s having a roommate? I always kinda wished I’d gotten to go to SA, although obviously the weather was better in California. But you like things dark and gloomy! Just, you know – try to get some sun sometimes, okay? While I know you love your ghostly pallor, vitamin D is a real thing.

Not that we’re getting any sun here in Chiswick, where England is being fully England with the weather. I guess it goes with the house, though. You’re going to love this place when you see it, by the way. It’s the most goth building you’ve ever seen. The whole place is full of crumbling statues and faded wallpaper with creepy stains and a LOT of these dark brambles—

Huh, I guess it makes sense there are a lot of black thorns at Blackthorn Manor. Still, they’re a huge pain to cut back. Why didn’t your ancestors go with something less pointy? This was owned by Lightwoods for years, why no light woods? We may never know.

(I always forget about the Lightwoods because I think of it as Blackthorn Manor but I found a diary of a girl who grew up here, hidden under one of the floorboards. Like way back in the 1870s. She’s just a normal Shadowhunter teenager of the time, complaining about boring history lessons and obnoxious older brothers. Normal stuff! She’s about 13 in the part I’m reading but it goes for a few years. Her name was Tatiana Lightwood, I wonder if Isabelle and Alec have heard of her?)

Anyway, Jules is working hard on de-spookying the place, but trust me, it’ll still be gothier than a ripped fishnet whenever you get to see it. It’s going to be ages before we’re done with all the hallways full of empty birdcages and decaying books. This house is big. And extremely busted.

Also . . . haunted. At first I think we were both in denial. It was just weird moving shadows, cold spots in places — if this was one of your mundane movies, we’d still be arguing about what was going on. But we’re Shadowhunters. We know ghosts exist. And we finally broke down and admitted to each other that there’s definitely one in this house. Somebody’s moving small objects around and playing the piano off in the distance… low, haunting bits of sweet music we can both hear. But here’s the thing — the only piano here isn’t even playable. It rotted through a long time ago.

So, we have a ghost. But they don’t seem definitely or even particularly hostile. It could just be a bitty poltergeist, or a passing unquiet spirit. I’ve just started going through papers and it’s obvious Some Stuff Went Down Here at some point, lots of weird references to demons and bindings. (Oh, I’m putting a thing aside for you, it’s a taxidermied raven covered in flowers, I think it used to be part of a really extra hat.) So the potential for unquiet spirits is definitely there. One more thing to deal with along with the need for all new drains. (What, exactly, are drains?)

Anyway, I can’t wait to see you and oh no, I spent most of the letter telling you about the house but I really do want to hear about the Academy and your roommate and teachers, like is Catarina there? What about Ragnor? Have you seen Jaime lately? Tell me everything!

XOXO

Emma

PS I just found out who Tatiana Lightwood thought was the cutest boy in London. Will Herondale. Wasn’t that the guy Tessa was married to, a long time ago? Would she think this was funny? I mean, it’s kind of funny. Always a Herondale, you know?

[heterophobiclightworm]

pairing: Nesta/Cassian/Azriel

rating: explicit

word count: 2438

#nsfw #acotar #nesta archeron

[heterophobiclightworm]

Julian to Mark

Mark Blackthorn

℅ Helen Blackthorn

Los Angeles Institute

Malibu, CA

Dear Mark,

Don’t worry about the parchment scroll yet, I’ll get to it at the end of the letter.

Hello from Chiswick! It’s pronounced like chizzick, it’s just outside central London, and it is a collapsing ruin. The house, I mean, not the neighborhood, which is cozy, a little suburban, lots of green space, quiet. You’d like it.

I should have been in touch before, I know that – and I’m sorry. We had to move fast to save this place and I knew a fire-message wouldn’t reach you. Blackthorn Hall may be a ruin, but it’s our family’s legacy, one of the very few things that we’ve inherited from Blackthorns past. I feel this sense of responsibility, a need to preserve the place for Tavvy and Dru, for Ty and Liv — well. You know.

It was us or the Clave, and they would have knocked it down and put something else in its place. It’s easily in bad enough shape that knocking it down would be the practical move. But it’s ours, and I kind of love it. I mean, if we don’t love it, who will? It can be truly beautiful again, I believe that. You should visit when you get a chance—all of you there are invited, of course—but be warned that if you come in the next couple of months you will be put to work.

This brings me to the parchment, which is the estimate and contract from the faerie builders for the renovation work on the house. I was hoping you and Kieran could look it over for faerie trickery, both in terms of whether their rates seem reasonable, and also to make sure they don’t get Tavvy if we’re late with payment, that kind of thing. They came highly recommended—they’re brownies? I think? They look like big garden gnomes. I mean, it’s probably the pointy hats. They could take them off, of course, but I guess they like them. They must know they look like garden gnomes. Anyway, they seem trustworthy and industrious and all that. But faeries do love tricking humans. Let me know what you think.

Oh, I should explain that there is one part of the house that is in all right shape and has all the “mod cons,” as they say here. It was redone in the Sixties and, well… it is groovy. The cons are Mod as well as mod. I am not sure you will get that joke but don’t worry about it, it was pretty stupid. The thing is, I’d never thought about it, but I realized this must have been fixed up by our grandparents. The timing works out. So this must be where Dad lived, once. And Uncle Arthur. It was where they grew up. And I realized: they, too, must have been groovy.

Arthur. Must have at one point. Been really groovy.

I just want you to sit with that for a moment, the way I did. It creates a feeling I believe to have never been felt before by any human being in the world.

You should see the clothes. I mean, really. You should see them. There’s a consignment shop’s worth of vintage stuff here and none of it suits me at all. You’re welcome to it but it is almost all synthetic fabrics and would not go over in Faerie itself.

Aaand I know I’m rambling. I was trying to avoid saying this, but there’s something about this house. It reminds me of some of the nights you and I used to ramble around the Institute back home. Which I know is weird, London couldn’t be more different than the Santa Monica Mountains — I miss the wildfire tang in the air, the smell of the chaparral and sage, the coarse dirt under our feet. (Do you miss it too? I feel like it has to be very different where you are in Faerie.) But there were plenty of times, especially when we were younger, when we’d tell ghost stories out there and scare ourselves that something was watching us. Maybe something was, though I’m inclined to think now that it was something friendly. Here in this house I get the same watched feeling, like there are eyes on me, shadows I see out of the corners of my own eyes that disappear when I turn around.

Anyway, I really wish you were here. I’d bring it up with Emma, but I don’t want to freak her out. She’s started the massive job of sorting through decades of papers and journals that used to belong to the people who lived here, and I’ve started painting the ballroom. I know Emma has been in touch with Cristina, please send my love to her and to K as well!

Your loving bro,

Julian

PS: I realize now I don’t know where this letter will find you, so let me clarify that “all of you are invited” from the LA Institute, not “all of you are invited” from the Unseelie Court.

[heterophobiclightworm]

Dearest Magnus,

Jem, Kit and I are so looking forward to your visit. In preparation, Kit has been attempting to teach Mina to say your name. She’s almost got it, but you may have to content yourself with being called “Agnes,” as she has trouble with the M — very trying for her as she is so advanced in her speech, just as you say Max was. You should have heard them in the kitchen this morning. “Who is coming to visit, Mina?” “Agnes!” I feel that your alter ego, Agnes, would wear sequins and be absolutely deadly at whist.

Thank you for your thoughts about the wards. I will look for labradorite at the gem store in Exeter. I tried what you suggested with the chickens—I was able to borrow a Blue Orpington from a neighbor on the last quarter moon. Since then chickens seem to be avoiding Kit, so maybe it will work on demons too? (Though can you really tell when a chicken is avoiding someone as opposed to just being a chicken?)

Jem and I are endeavoring to walk a narrow line, keeping Kit safe and hidden while also providing him with the most normal life we can. We don’t want to lock him away in a tower like a fairytale princess—he’d be miserable. And Mina would be miserable, she just adores him and rides everywhere on his back, clutching onto his shirt with her little hands. It reminds me of the way James and Lucie used to ride on Will’s shoulders. I suppose times change, but children never do.

We’re trying to allow Kit freedom wherever we can. He’s enrolled at the small school in the village, where a few of his friends know about the Shadow World and others don’t. There’s a local pack of werewolves who we’ve become friendly with, and some of their children go to school with him. I’ve begun to suspect that Kit has a girlfriend, but he’s secretive about it. (I guess that’s another thing that never changes about children—how secretive they are. I just hope he knows he can tell us anything. Especially related to demons, or in Kit’s case, the fey. A hundred and ten years later and I’m still edgy.)

He’s a puzzle, our Christopher Jonathan Herondale. About some things he’s opened up, and is willing to talk to Jem and me about them freely — his father, and what it was like growing up being able to see all sorts of peculiar things but not really understanding why. About being taught to fear Shadowhunters. About his concerns about his heritage — what it means, what kind of power he might have. I think it frustrates him, not knowing.

Other things he won’t talk about. We have asked him about Ty, as you and I discussed, but he’s like a brick wall about their friendship. Whatever happened he won’t speak of it. I think Livvy’s death hit him harder than we guessed, too. I’ve heard him call out her name in his sleep, always in this very despairing way. Sometimes he’ll say Not if you do this. Not if you do this, Ty. I feel like whatever they fought about, it must have been awful. But people can be terrible when they’re grieving; we both know that.

You can probably tell from everything I’ve said how much I — how much we — love Kit. I just love him, Magnus, like he was my own. He is my own. I’d kill anyone who wanted to hurt him, just as I would protect Mina or Jem with my life. I never thought I’d have this again, this perfect family I love so much it hurts. Strange after so many years to be so surprised by one’s own feelings — but I imagine it’s much the same for you, isn’t it? Speaking of which, I hope you and Alec and the kids are well. Please let Max know that we found his superhero cape—it was inside the piano.

I enclose a picture from your last visit here. How adorable they all are!

Love,📷

Tessa

[heterophobiclightworm]

the institute series » new york institute

“said to look like an old gothic cathedral, the institute is covered by a glamour, allowing mundanes to only see an abandoned church, almost in ruins. the interior of the institute is enormous, and it has a huge library, a training room, a sanctuary, like all institutes, and also a greenhouse filled with dozens of plants.”

[heterophobiclightworm]

cassie's live summed up

"secrets of blackthorn hall" novella-type collection based on julian and emma will start coming out in august, and will be updated every monday, going on till august 2022.

it will be canon and there will be references to it in twp.

it will be set around a year and half after tda (after their travel year), so in, like, 2014.

KIT AND TY ARE IN IT! (they definitely talk about each other, and could or could not be in it at the same time.)

all the stories will be shared online and will be completely free. they will also include artwork and other things.

it will help connect tlh to tda and twp.

chain of thorns release date will be in the july newsletter.

name of the blackthorn sword will be revealed in cot.

lucifer will show up in twp.

cassie said that "something happens" with the tmi gang in the first book of twp that "kicks them out of the story they are in with other people."

cassie thinks that julian and emma will probably hyphenate their names like malec.

[heterophobiclightworm]

Pop over to https://secretsofblackthornhall.tumblr.com/ to read the first installment! It'll update there every Monday starting August 16 (when you can expect the second post) — the first post is just to give a preview of the story! Expect the characters from TDA — Emma, Jules, Kit, Dru, Ty, Kieran, Cristina, Mark, Diana, etc — and a bunch of history dating back to TID and TLH. It's a serialized novel that will be posted online for free and have a bunch of multimedia, with contibutions from artists like Cassandra Jean, sound files, text conversations, and all sorts of fun stuff. It'll run until next August — and hopefully give us all something to enjoy!

HAVE FUN!

[heterophobiclightworm]

Dear Cristina, from Emma

Dear Cristina,

I was going to try addressing this letter to Polyamorous Cottage In Faerieland, but I figured it might never be delivered. :) Ok, ok, I’m kidding. I’m sending it to the New York Institute—Clary says she’ll hold onto it for you. I know Jules and I have been popping around the globe like ping-pong balls, but we’ve finally settled here in London for at least a couple of months, so you can — and should — write me back at the London Institute — I’m not sure the place we’re staying even has an address.

(And sure, I could have just sent you a fire-message, but I have too much to tell you. Buckle up.)

So, a while ago Jules and I were in Manaus, in Brazil, studying the Curupira demon, when we got called into the Rio Institute. They had a message for Julian. His great-aunt — yeah, the one he was visiting when you first came to L.A. — had died. Really sad. And then, remember the beautiful house in Sussex where she lived? Well, she left that to some cousin nobody’s heard of, but she left Julian Blackthorn Hall. Which is a crumbling ruin in Chiswick (kind of a suburb of London). And then we had to come here, because of a codicil in the will (ahem, according to the dictionary, that’s “an addition or supplement that explains, modifies, or revokes a will or part of one”). Either Julian has to fix the place up, get it livable again, in five years, or he has to donate it to the Clave.

Anyway, you know how Julian is. He makes up his mind fast. We Portaled to London the next day after he got the news.

I was all set to eat scones, drink tea, and go on the Eye (all the things I didn’t get to do last time we came to London, due to being pursued by unkillable Faerie warriors.) But that was before we took a black cab from the Institute out to Chiswick and really saw the place.

From the outside it looks like a museum or an old library—you know, big marble columns, grand staircase, big metal dome on top that looks like it should have a telescope in it. (It doesn’t; I checked.) But inside it’s more like a fairytale. Not, like, something from Faerie. Or something from a kid’s movie. It’s like one of those fairytales where a crumbling palace sleeps for a thousand years. It was kind of romantic, for about five minutes. Then we spotted the first rat, nibbling on the tassel end of one of the drapes.

It’s a weird mix of interesting history, weird old art, and total ruin. There are cool portraits of old Blackthorn ancestors, mostly intact. Julian says he doesn’t recognize most of the faces. Some of them have names written on the back of the canvas or on the frame but other than “Blackthorn” none of the names mean anything to any of us. There are wooden chests full of ancient books and papers, and beautiful overgrown grounds that I’m sure were once gardens and are now England’s version of a jungle. There’s an old greenhouse and a weird little brick structure we can’t figure out. (Storage shed? Very small weapons room?) The whole place is just a mess, and most of the house isn’t habitable at all anymore. Someone built an apartment with “updates” off in one wing, probably in the sixties. (The apartment, by the way, reminds me of that vintage shop in Topanga I dragged you to. Remember?) Whoever lived in it left a closet of all kinds of vintage clothes and there’s crazy flower-patterned wallpaper and modern art everywhere. At least the apartment has electricity, running water, and heat, because the rest of the house definitely doesn’t —

I’m back now. Sorry, had to stop writing for a second. Julian was calling me. He was up in what was probably a ballroom? But anyway he took a wrong step and his foot went through the floor. (Not all the way through the floor, which is a relief. But it definitely made a hole.) The ballroom is big and dusty, but you can see how long ago it must have been beautiful, and very fancy. It has these huge French doors that open onto marble balconies, though most of the glass in the doors is gone now.

Once I freed Jules from the broken floor I figured it was my only chance to try to talk some sense into him, so I pointed out that this is a gigantic project for two people who have never fixed up a house before, and that we have a perfectly fine place to live already. And the weather is better there.

Jules, being Jules, took his time answering, really thinking about what I’d been saying. Then he said, “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to do it. You’re more important to me than a house. Any house.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to do it,” I said. “I just don’t even know where to start.”

Jules calmly explained that he’d been in contact with some faerie builders of some kind, hobgoblins maybe? who would be here Monday to do “a walkthrough.” Then he put his arms around me and said, “I know we can always live in the L.A. Institute. I love it there, too. But as much as any Blackthorn legacy exists, this is it. All these old papers, whatever secrets the house is hiding, they’re our family history. I want to pass it on to Dru and Ty and Tavvy. I want to give them what I never had.”

Well, what could I say to that? I get it. I have Jem as my living family history. Jules doesn’t have anything like that. And while Aline and Helen run the L.A. Institute now, they might not always, and besides, it belongs to the Clave. I get that he feels like he can’t give away a big chunk of his family’s history without giving them a choice in the matter.

I said, “All right. We’ll see what we can do. If we ever decide it’s too much, we can hold a big family meeting and everyone can vote. Keep the place or not.”

He picked me up and swung me around. Then we started kissing. I’ll be merciful and not give you the details.

So I’ve decided to consider all this An Adventure. It’s like an archeological site, and we are intrepid historians. Later I’ll see if I can convince Jules to put on a tweed coat and a pith helmet while we sort through the debris. Because whoever lived here before had a lot of stuff. It’s a big house, and every room has furniture with drawers and cabinets, and inside every drawer and every cabinet is clutter. Rusty weapons, water-damaged books, little boxes with more clutter in them, costume jewelry, portraits of random people, broken teacups…And remember, we’ll be going through it without any light but witchlights.

Anyway. I wanted to let you know what I was up to, and where we were. Our travel year was basically over anyway, so this is a sort of way of extending it and spending more time together. I’m not sad about that part. I was actually doing pretty well psyching myself up for the excavation of Blackthorn History, until this morning.

I know I said the house seemed haunted, but I was joking. Mostly. I’m not Kit; I can’t see ghosts unless they want me to see them, and so far I haven’t come across any ectoplasmic spirits with messages from The Beyond. But the place does feel odd — I keep finding myself turning around at the end of long, spiderwebby hallways, as if expecting to see something in the shadows. Or imagining I glimpse something over my shoulder in the mirror. I chalked it all up to nerves until this morning, when I came into the dining room and saw that the words “GO AWAY” were written in the dust on the floor.

I literally jumped. I was actually reaching for Cortana before I got a hold of myself. Don’t be ridiculous, I thought. That message could have been written any time. Long before we got to the house. It could have been sitting here in the dust for years, undisturbed.

I have a confession to make, though. I rubbed the GO AWAY message away with my foot. I didn’t want Julian to see it. He worries too much as it is. I didn’t want him to have that same bad moment of shock that I did, especially over something unimportant.

I feel better getting the story off my chest to you, though. Oh dear, Julian is calling for me again, I can’t wait to see what he’s put his foot through this time. I will write again soon, and in the meantime pip pip cheerio from London!

Love to you and the boys,

Emma

[heterophobiclightworm]

Sure would be nice to check the Elain tag without seeing posts about how Lucien is somehow terrorizing and making Elain uncomfortable.

I am mad at everyone for this. I am mad at SJM for not thinking about the optics of having Elain cringe at a biracial, disabled man breathing in the same space as this white girl without explaining what exactly she’s upset about and I’m mad at the fans for running with it and using it as a weapon against other fans in order to prop up their ship.

This shit is so problematic and annoying, JFC.

I don’t think the author had ANY intention of it coming off the way it is, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still a problem. And we should be talking about it outside of who we want Elain to hook up with.

[heterophobiclightworm]

Did I skip the whole newsletter just to find the thomastair art we knew we were getting? Yes I did. BUT LOOK ITS PRETTY