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julescarstairs · 4 months

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Meet The Gang: That Which Is Precious and Lost Edition!

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So, for those of you playing along at home, my best friend @tsc-reader and I have been writing a TSC Next-Generation Fanfic about our fanon kids of Kierarktina, Blackstairs, Kitty and Morgenthorn for two whole years now, over on Instagram. It’s called That Which Is Precious and Lost. We’ve written a complete instalment of 52 Chapters (which we call Book 1) and are currently working on a sequel, titled That Which is Gracious and Cruel (which we usually abbreviate to TWIPAL2, since TWIGAC makes us uncomfy ✨) as we speak!

Book 1 follows the kids as they embark on an epic journey to save their parents from a certain faerie matriarch, who is holding each of them captive for ransom — what ransom, you ask? Why, it’s none other than an ancient faerie spellbook called the Sage Scripts, which has long since been lost to the sands of time. Sands of time or not, the kids have a meagre fourteen days to find and retrieve the Scripts, and return them to the Seelie Queen’s hands — or run the risk of losing their family once and for all.

In book 2, the stakes grow higher, but there’s not much more I can tell you other than that, lest I spoil some big pointers from Book 1 for you 🤭 what I can tell you is that Book 2 introduces a staggering six more characters to the cast — five of which who are love interests for five of our main kids (and one who is honestly there solely to be an annoyance. You will hate how much we love pulling him into things. We’ll introduce you to those six on a different post, though.)

But I bet you’re wondering just who these kids are — and we would love to introduce them to you! See below the cut to meet our babies: The TWIPAL GANG!

1. Arrius ‘Ari’ Blackthorn-Kingson-Rosales

‘Ari passed a hand over his face and took the time to ask himself why he had to be born into such a ride or die family. He loved them all dearly, but this was getting ridiculous.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Twenty Three: A Saccharine Melody (Written by @julescarstairs )

Ari is the eldest of our ragtag team of Shadowhunters at age 18, and is the son of Mark, Cristina and Kieran. A new adult, he takes it upon himself to guide his baby cousins, and younger sister Celeste, through the trying times that rise before them when their parents are kidnapped and held to ransom. His hair falls in short curls of medium brown, which lightens to a dirty blonde in the sun, and has the signature Blackthorn-Blue eyes, a trait shared by himself and only two other of his cousins. He stands at a staggering six foot four inches tall, though no one can really work out why or how he is that tall (not even us, the authors, but we love him for it anyway.) Ari simply grew, and everyone has come to accept that.

Much like Mark and Kieran, Ari chose a bow and arrows as his weapon of choice. Whilst he is capable with a balisong or a handful of knives, he prefers to work at a distance. In his childhood, he spent hours upon hours of his time mastering the art. Though often humble, Ari isn’t afraid to tell you he never misses.

Ari is a very mellow individual, often seen as the calm, grounding ‘rock’ in the lives of most of his younger family members. He is patient, thoughtful, but if you can scratch away that shell of responsibility that he so often hides himself away in, you will find that he does, indeed, have a sense of humour! (Ask Luc, he’ll tell you.) He loves very deeply, especially his younger sister Celeste, who he spent some periods of his childhood babysitting when his parents were busy with the Shadowhunter-Downworlder alliance, or, you know, ruling the Unseelie Court. Despite being Mark’s son, Ari bears a lot of resemblance to Julian personality-wise, and quite often looks to his Uncle for advice and guidance where his parents’ doesn’t quite suffice.

Ari’s fatal flaw is his stubbornness and his temperament. It takes a lot to send Ari into a fit of rage, given his cool and calm demeanour at the best of times, but if he is pushed over the edge, it’s hard to make him see reason. Like a bull with a red flag, Ari won’t stop something if he has his mind set on doing it, and will do anything he has to in order to get his way. His is a cold, quiet anger, which is frightening in its own regard and amplified by the fact that he stands over most people. The only person, aside from Celeste or his own parents, who has the ability to bring him back from such a dark anger, is Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs, who is only one year younger than him but not afraid to square up against him when he isn’t seeing the forest among the trees.

2. Celeste Blackthorn-Kingson-Rosales

‘Celeste let out a breath. Maybe it wasn't that she was part Shadowhunter. Maybe it was just that it had been a very, very long time since the Unseelie Courts had had a Queen. Now that she thought about it, Celeste wasn't sure there had ever been a Queen of Unseelie. The thought made her lift her chin defiantly. She would be a good ruler. Even if it was just for a short period of time, until her father got back. She would show her people that there was no reason to doubt her.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Ten: Forgotten Memories (written by @tsc-reader )

Celeste is Ari’s younger sister, coming in at 16 years old to her brother’s two years senior. The daughter of Kieran, Cristina and Mark, she has her Father’s blue hair, which changes colour and value with her mood, and her mother’s warm, brown eyes. In a baffling contrast to her brother’s stature, Celeste is among one of the shortest of the TWIPAL twelve’s lineup, if not the shortest.

But don’t let that deter you. Celeste is a pocket rocket, and — much like her brother — won’t stop until she has what she wants, or achieves what she wants to achieve. Promises are like liquid gold to Celeste: when she promises you something, she will not break it, and will not forget about it. She’ll shake on it, pinky-swear, write it in blood if she has to, and will always follow through with what she claims. If ever she is rendered unable to do so, it breaks her heart. Minimum four business days should be allowed for her recovery. And if you break a promise with Celeste? I’d recommend digging your grave in advance, because she will come for you. She might even make it quick, since you did some of the dirty work for her.

Being Kieran’s biological daughter, Celeste takes her role as Heiress to the Unseelie Court throne very seriously. During the course of TWIPAL, Celeste actually splits off from the main gang to take her Father’s place on the throne, since Kieran is rendered unable to do so. She puts a lot of pressure on herself to do well, to do her Father justice and respect him and his wishes in every decision she makes. Every year, on her birthday, Kieran would take her on a walk through Unseelie Tower, showing her anything and everything he possibly could. The year she turned fifteen, Kieran gifted Celeste Windspear, his steed, just as Adaon had handed him down to him.

Celeste’s weapon of choice is a balisong, much like her mother. Unlike Ari, who likes to keep a distance from his enemies, Celeste likes to get up close and personal. She is very easily swept up in the fierce thrill of fighting. Though faeries may fight remarkably cleanly, Celeste does not. She’ll roll around in the dirt if it means she’ll win.

Celeste’s fatal flaw is her perfectionism. Because she so often strives to be perfect, to be everything everybody wants her to be, it makes her a bit of a control freak. Being raised by who she was raised by, Celeste recognises and admires her own autonomy and individuality, so any situation where that autonomy is taken away from her frightens her more than anything. She wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy, let alone herself…

3. Eleanor ‘Ellie’ Blackthorn-Carstairs

‘Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs seldom ever found her home empty— at least, not without a note on the kitchen bench, or a text from her Mom or Dad letting her know they were going out. But when she returned to Blackthorn Hall from patrol, she found the vast home dark and so silent you could hear a pin drop, and there was not a single text on her phone. Maybe some teenagers her age wouldn't mind their parents stepping out without saying anything. Maybe some would savour the quiet ambiance: the faint chirping of crickets out the window, or the hum of wind as it blew past the curtains... But this was not a comfortable sort of quiet. And Eleanor's parents NEVER stepped out without letting her know.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter One: Pure Distilled Horror (Written by @julescarstairs )

Fun fact! Eleanor was the first of the TWIPAL gang to be born from our collective mess of brainstorming. Coming in at the second eldest of the cousins, Eleanor is an only child of age seventeen. She’s Emma and Julian’s daughter, and you would be able to see it from a mile away. She’s got Emma’s blonde hair and Julian’s blackthorn-blue eyes, as well as a face full of freckles, a trait often attributed to the Blackthorn bloodline.

Eleanor is just as chaotic and energetic as her mother is, often bouncing off her younger cousin Luc’s obnoxious, sardonic energy with witty remarks of her own (can you tell that Luc is going to be an important character to the narrative? I’ve mentioned him in two other characters’ descriptions already.) She is a strong swordswoman and she knows it, and as a result she has a competitive edge. She isn’t arrogant, but she knows her strength and her worth. She isn’t backwards in coming forwards about the things she wants.

But, despite everything, Eleanor is a balanced individual. Whilst she can be loud, bubbly and barbaric, she also has her Father’s maternal/paternal instinct, and is very quick to swoop in and lift people up when they’re falling apart inside. Where Ari is the dad of the TWIPAL gang, Ellie is very much the mom (but she’s not a regular mom, she’s a cool mom!) and it’s BECAUSE of their shared maternal instinct that Eleanor can call Ari out when he’s out of balance. She knows him better than he wants to admit, and will back him to the ends of the earth — as she will all of her cousins, especially LJ, whom she wants to be Parabatai with desperately, if her deep fear of the Parabatai bond wouldn’t keep holding her back.

Eleanor’s weapon of choice is Cortana, since she inherited it from her Mother. She values the heirloom dearly, and loathes being parted from it more than anything. Whilst she will always be found with Cortana strapped to her back, she is also quite competent with a crossbow, thanks to her dear old Dad.

Eleanor’s greatest weakness is her trust — or rather, her inability to trust. This excludes her family, of course, since she’s grown up among them and knows them better than she knows herself. But whenever new people come into her family, she isn’t quick to trust them. This is all primarily due to one person, who blindsided both her and her family into believing he was in love with her, only to drop her and walk away in a heartbeat. Whilst trusting too easily can be a flaw, being afraid to trust can put strain on new relationships she develops over time.

4. Livia ‘LJ’ Blackthorn-Herondale

‘LJ’s feet had barely touched the floor when she began to run. She sprinted through the hallways of the upstairs of her house, overcome with fear. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She could hear the commotion coming from the floor below, something crashing to the ground, metal clanging against metal. When she got to the banister, LJ didn't hesitate. She jumped. There was the brief feeling of weightlessness as she fell, before she landed hard in a crouch on the floor. LJ burst through the doorway ofher living room, just in time to see a flash of blonde hair, a glint of gray eyes, and the spark of a Portal disappearing into nothingness.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Two: Stuff of Nightmares (written by @tsc-reader )

LJ is the third youngest of the TWIPAL gang, at fifteen years old. (She’s only the ‘third youngest’ because the last couple of characters in the lineup are twins, and were born two months after her.) The adoptive daughter of Kit Herondale and Ty Blackthorn, LJ has long, black, curly hair and dark eyes to suit. In average lighting, her eyes seem black — but in the sun, or if a lamp or campfire hits her eyes just right, you’ll find that they’re actually a dark violet. LJ, despite being the youngest girly in the gang, happens to be the tallest, standing above both Ellie and Celeste but below Ari and the twins (who you will meet below.)

LJ was found on Kit and Ty’s doorstep, a classic image of a baby in a basket, swaddled in blankets. Neither Kit nor Ty know who left her there, only that the mysterious individual trusted them to look after her, and that they were going to look after her with their whole hearts. Sure, there must be a reason why they were chosen to look after baby LJ, but that was a fact they were yet to learn. With Livvy’s endorsement (because, yes, she is still here as a ghost), they named her Livia as well, but her whole family calls her LJ — with the exceptions being Kit, Ty and later Eleanor, who call her Liv.

LJ is a very, very bright young woman, nothing short of a brainiac. She is the first to seek logic and reason in everything she and her cousins come across — even in matters of magic, when logic and reason don’t really come into the picture. She’s also, possibly, the most levelheaded character in the entire gang. I’m convinced she carries their collective braincell 99% of the time (and the other 1% of the time is taken up by Ari and Oberon, who can lead when their siblings aren’t driving them insane.) In a way, LJ idolises her Father, Ty, for his intelligence and innovation. She spent hours upon hours of her childhood sitting with him in his study, watching him work on projects and inventions, and as a result she has developed an inventive streak within herself as well.

Liv’s weapon of choice is the Herondale dagger, handed down to her by Kit. When the dagger isn’t feasible, however, she also has a keen hand for throwing knives. Any small, sharp object — a dagger, a knife, a dart — is LJ’s specialty, but thats not to say she hasn’t at least made herself competent at every other weapon she can get her hands on. On top of that, LJ trained herself to be ambidextrous, not only to be able to handle weaponry better, but to be able to work on projects and experiments for longer periods at a time whilst minimising fatigue.

LJ’s biggest weakness is how she feels restricted by how little she knows. LJ can often spiral into a state of self-deprecation if she can’t solve a problem or puzzle herself. Even if her intelligence runs rings around that of her cousins’ — Ari himself actually comments on this — she beats herself up endlessly if she cannot work something out that flew over their heads. Liv puts a lot of pressure on herself to be great, to know the answers to anything and everything when it’s physically impossible for her to do so. She gets herself down a lot, but Ellie is the first to lift her back up and remind her that if she doesn’t know now, she will find out soon.

Second to Eleanor, LJ’s closest companion among her cousins is none other than Oberon Morgenstern, one of the twins. Oberon often finds himself recruited by LJ as her lab assistant, whether it be voluntary or not. He doesn’t mind, though, because if helping LJ means seeing her smiling and happy, then he’d do it any day of the week. The two are close, a dynamic explored regularly through TWIPAL’s fifty-two chapters, in a number of ways.

Speaking of Oberon, that brings us to our next character in the lineup…

5. Oberon Morgenstern

Oberon rarely ever lost his cool in bad situations, but his twin brother lying unconscious on the ground was clearly the exception. He sped downwards, the world turning to a blur around him. He landed in a crouch, bracing himself on the ground with his hand. Ari looked over at him, surprise touching his face at Oberon's sudden appearance, but he sat back on his heels, letting him take over. Whipping out his stele, Oberon sketched a neat iratze on Luc's arm. "Come on, brother," Oberon said softly. "Come back to me. Stay with me." He touched Luc's cheek lightly with his fingertips. His twin's face was icy, his pale curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. A few seconds passed.

Then Luc's eyes fluttered open, ocean blue behind his eyelashes. "Oberon," Luc said, his voice hoarse. "Im okay."

"Lucas Andrew Morgenstern, you are not okay." Oberon said, his fear coming out as anger. "Stop being an idiot, and tell me what's wrong.”

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Twenty-Four: An Exquisite Dance (written by @tsc-reader )

Listen, we don’t pick favourites in this household, but the Morgenthorn twins are definitely a step above the rest. Oberon, and his brother Luc, who you’ll hear about next, are fraternal twin brothers, both the sons of Drusilla Blackthorn and Ash Morgenstern. Oberon is the older twin, and even though there were only a few minutes between their births, he isn’t afraid to tell you, your friend, or even Luc himself that he’s older. He takes his role as ‘the older twin’ very seriously, much to Luc’s irritation at times. Oberon is a gentle soul, with his mother’s dark brown hair — which falls in picture-perfect curls around his face no matter how many times he runs his hands through it — and his Father’s green eyes, reminiscent of his Fairchild heritage. Much like Celeste, Ari and his brother, Oberon has the tapered ears unique only to the fair folk, though they aren’t quite as pointed as a full blooded faerie gentry. He stands at five foot ten inches at age fifteen, which renders him the second tallest of the TWIPAL gang, second only to Ari (he is about one inch taller than his brother, which he also may or may not rub in his face from time to time. Oberon isn’t arrogant, but will take any opportunity to humble Luc when it arises.)

One thing that sets Oberon apart from his faerie family members is his wings, which he also inherited from his father, Ash. At age ten, a pair of black-feathered wings sprouted from his spine, taking permanent purchase between his shoulder blades. It was only a matter of time before Oberon — and Luc, for that matter — found that these wings were integral to his way of life. As a result, he is very skilled in the ways of flight, and utilises his higher vantage point regularly during battles and patrol.

Oberon is a deeply, deeply loving young man, a gift who keeps on giving even when his heart has been scraped dry, trodden on, broken and put back together again. His open, forthcoming kindness and friendliness may seem quite startling to most people when they first meet him, but it can also be very deceptive — because underneath that warm, loving teddy-bear that Oberon so often is, lies a dark, determined warrior who isn’t afraid to stand between anyone and anything if it means protecting those he loves. He is a very intelligent young man with a gift for strategy and deception. If it weren’t for his heart, for the fact that he loves and is loved by his family (and his boyfriend, Aaron Longford, who you will meet on another post), Oberon would make for quite the terrifying enemy.

Oberon is protective of no one more than he is protective of Luc. He and his brother have a very special bond, unlike no other. They are seldom seen apart, and when they are separated, it’s cause for concern. Their connection transcends the waking world, so much so that if they’re found sleeping side by side, they’ll often sleep-talk to each other. Oberon loves Luc so much that is causes him a lot of pain and heartache, especially as the narrative grows thicker, deeper and darker. Oberon hasn’t known a time in his life without Luc, and will do everything in his power to keep it that way. Wherever Luc is, Oberon will never be far behind. No matter how far Luc falls from grace (because, believe me, he can be ungraceful sometimes) Oberon will be there to catch him. Oberon and Luc were born into a social climate where people are still wary of the Morgenstern name, and as a result, the boys have always believed that, in part, it’s been them against the world. Oberon made it his mission to change the Council’s perception of the Morgenstern name. This means keeping both himself and his brother in line.

Oberon’s weapon of choice is Phaesphoros, the first of two Morgenstern family swords. Though the ‘normal’ world’s Phaesphoros was destroyed along with Sebastian Morgenstern during the Dark War, it is said that Ash brought both Heosphoros and Phaesphoros back from Thule with him (at least, in the TWIPALverse he did.) When the boys turned 10, and were old enough to bear marks and start their formal Shadowhunter training, Ash laid the two swords before his sons at let the blades choose their bearers. The connection was almost instant: Phaesphoros chose Oberon, Heosphoros chose Luc. It only made sense, after all, for the twin brothers to have twin blades.

Oberon’s biggest weakness, his fatal flaw, is his tendency to self-sacrifice. Whilst he might be a gift that keeps on giving, this doesn’t always work in his favour. He is quick to throw himself under the bus or in front of a train if it means preserving the wellbeing of those he loves most in the world. Whilst he performs these grand, sweeping gestures of self sacrifice under the pretence of nobility, he’s rarely met with the reactions he was expecting to get from them. It’s actually Eleanor, during a late night conversation in TWIPAL’s epilogue, that expresses how Oberon’s selflessness concerns her. There is a fine line between selflessness and not valuing your own life, after all. But, for all the conflict it causes, Oberon is steadfast in his decisions, as he is in everything he does, and firmly believes that every sacrifice he makes, no matter how big or small, is for the better of those he loves: of Luc, of Aaron, of everyone.

Even if Luc disagrees.

6. Lucas ‘Luc’ Morgenstern

‘… a whirlwind of memories rose before his very eyes: Luc falling out of bed the first time he and Oberon had slept in their new bunk bed, and Oberon being the one to help him up off of the ground. Oberon being unable to sleep the night before they got their first marks, and Luc being the one who sat awake with him until he lulled himself to sleep. Luc crafting matching bracelets for himself and his brother with teardrop-shaped agates as the centrepieces - agates, because they symbolised safety and security, and there was nowhere Luc felt safer than by his brother's side. Oberon throwing himself into Luc's arms, sobbing, when they finally reunited in the labyrinth.

The deluge of memories struck Luc like many punches to the gut, leaving him doubling over and gasping. He had always thought that he needed Oberon more than Oberon needed him, but watching his life laid out before him now, Luc realised that he was wrong, so very wrong. Because Luc was half of Oberon just as much as Oberon was half of him. Together they made a formidable warrior, in which Luc was the sword and Oberon the shield. But what good was a shield without a sword? A sword without a shield? Without one or the other, they were incomplete.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Forty-One: My Sword, Your Shield (written by @julescarstairs )

Luc Morgenstern is the firecracker to Oberon’s lit candle. Despite being twins on paper, Luc couldn’t look any more different to his brother in terms of colour palette. He has Ash’s platinum blonde hair, which manages to stay stylishly spiky as Oberon’s stays stylishly wavy, and the signature Blackthorn Blue eyes, which give him the appearance of a high-brow Snow Prince. But despite his difference in hair and eye colour, both he and his brother share near-identical bone structure. There’s no mistaking that they’re twins, no matter how different they may seem at first glance. Both Luc and Oberon (which I forgot to mention above) have faces full of freckles, a trait brought out by many of their days spent outside in the Los Angeles sun. Like Oberon, Luc has a pair of silken black wings, which sprouted from his back at the ripe age of ten. He has mastered the art of flight alongside his swordsmanship, rendering him a highly skilled and agile opponent (something Luc himself will tell you, even if you didn’t ask.)

Luc has a loud personality.He’s proud, cocky, obnoxious and dramatic in the best possible way, to the point where it’s charming — because as confident as Luc is in himself and his abilities as a Shadowhunter, he never actively puts anybody else down in order to make himself look good (unless you put him down first, in which he will engage in verbal combat, but don’t take any of it to heart.) Luc can be quite hotheaded, a stark contrast to his brother’s colder, quieter anger, and struggles to curb his temper, especially when people challenge his pride. He’s got all the witty, sarcastic comebacks, something he shares in common with his older cousin, Eleanor. Luc is also the self-proclaimed President of The Disaster Blondes, a group consisting of three people — Himself, Eleanor, and Skylar, Celeste’s girlfriend — who have banded together for two reasons, and two reasons alone: one, they’re all blonde, and two, they’re all down to try any batshit crazy scheme under the sun, even if it’s to their detriment.

But despite Luc’s loud, self-assured exterior, he is actually very self conscious, deep down. He cares deeply what people think of him, and how they perceive him as a person. He worries, often, that he is seen as a bad person, and doesn’t believe that he is able to be loved. He experiences a sort of imposter syndrome, where he believes that he shouldn’t be among these people who love him so much, that he doesn’t deserve the good things that come his way. This is a trait that develops more in the latter half of TWIPAL, but a trait that presents itself all the same. It interferes with his relationships regularly, both past ones, present ones and future ones.

It’s Oberon that keeps Luc in balance, even when he isn’t actively trying to. Luc depends on Oberon more than he realises, sometimes, and often feels like he needs his older brother more than Oberon needs him, even when this isn’t the case at all. Luc would die for Oberon, just as Oberon would die for him, but he would also kill for his brother, get his hands dirty, if it means that Oberon is safe, well and happy. It terrifies him, how much he is willing to do for Oberon. He wants nothing more in his life than to be Parabatai with his brother, to reinforce the strength and power of their bond with an oath signed in blood and fire.

(Luc can also be found third-wheeling on a lot of Oberon and Aaron’s dates, but Oberon doesn’t really mind. Nor does Aaron, who has just accepted that his brother in law will be down to hang at any given opportunity.)

Luc’s weapon of choice is the shortsword Heosphoros. Like Eleanor, he has a very personal connection to his sword, often talking to it and reminding it (yes, the sword) how much he loves it. Luc trains ruthlessly, with the desire to be one of the best Shadowhunters of his generation, if not the best. Combat is also a release to Luc, who can be found decompressing and letting off steam in the training room of the L.A. Institute, just as often as he is found formally training.

Where Oberon’s greatest weakness is his tendency to self sacrifice, Luc’s is his tendency to self sabotage. Luc is fast to deny himself good things and positive outcomes purely because he himself doesn’t believe he deserves them. Aside from his tendency to self-sabotage, his only other weak point would be Oberon himself. If not for Oberon’s bottomless love and faith in him, Luc would tumble into an irreversible darkness. As much as Luc desperately wants to rewrite his own legacy, independent of his family’s sinister history, if Oberon were to give up on him, Luc fears that he, too, would be the one to light a match and watch the world burn.

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There you have it! After nearly 3,000 words of ceaseless rambling, you’ve met the core six characters of @tsc-reader and I’s TSC fic, That Which Is Precious and Lost. Whilst the story in full is accessible on our Instagram accounts, we are more than happy to reformat and repost the chapters here on tumblr if there’s enough interest in them 🤭💗 (so, if you would like to see TWIPAL make an appearance here on Tumblr, let us know! )

We would also LOVE to hear your thoughts on the main six! We’re always open to feedback, and will take any opportunity we can to talk about these silly little guys 🤭🥹💗)

Also going to tag a few peeps down here who I think might find this interesting:

@princeash

@bookishjules

(Also, there was one person here who posted a whole post about their fanon kids of the TSC gangs but I CANNOT find you. I am so sorry. If you’re seeing this please, give me a sign.)

And, of course, my best partner in crime @tsc-reader who I have already tagged copious times in this post 🤭🥹💗 love you, girl!

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ashanimus · 1 year

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This Belos Essay is Gross

I fully admit I did this to myself. I voluntarily went HEY you know what animates me like a vengeful eidolon to the point where I could chew solid stone while laughing? Ragging on the history of Christianity in America! Oh look! A cute gay show about disabled witches sticking it to Puritan Cult-Peddling Murder Grandpa (also known as Ash's personal bugbear)? SIGN ME UP? Lets dissect this dreadful son of a bitch in the context of his theological bullshit!

But then I get to the parts where I have to think about Belos and all the Grimwalkers and its sicker the more I think about it. Everyone knows of course its just. The depth of the violation and desecration and depravity in its own context is Beyond Grotesque.

I'll elaborate more on this later, but Puritans were obsessed with how a person's remains were kept. This scabrous donkey's bastard was mutilating the unburied remains of the brother he murdered for 400 years. The thing that makes me insane is that any attempts to tell himself "I'm saving your soul, Caleb" had to have petered out pretty quick in that process. He discards the Christian name. Starts calling them all Hunter. Witch Hunter, a title, a job description, a fucking factory tag. He even started branding them after a while, which we know now is a death sentence no matter how perfectly obedient they could have hoped to be. He knows he's not saving Caleb. He's farming the experience of his death.

"I'm starting to think you make those things just to destroy them."

Belos demurs, "Of course I don't, Collector. It hurts every time he chooses to betray me."

The fact they included this line from the Collector--someone who has observed and gleefully enabled this sick fuck for centuries--seems to suggest Belos' denial here is a weak one.

He does enjoy it! They show us! As soon as Luz and Hunter enter the mindscape, he goes out of his way to sabotage Hunter's loyalty. He gleefully drags the kids around, building up the reveals that will make Luz crumple to her knees and destroy Hunter's entire world. The timing. The showmanship of it all. He smiles when he flicks Hunter's little forelock.

"What a shame. Of all the Grimwalkers, you looked the most like him :)"

These are the words he intends to kill this kid by. The dude has been playing this game for CENTURIES and still enjoys the process of torturing them before he slaughters them. How many Grimwalkers died with some variation of "What? Who is Caleb?" on their lips--but the part that haunts me are the ones who lived long enough to say "Sorry" before they were killed. Phillip isn't saving Caleb's soul, he's punishing him over and over.

So why does he do this? How does the Puritan part factor into it? Other than the pleasure of murder that is. It makes me think of how the main purpose of missionaries is to experience rejection. Particularly when it comes to sending kids out from the church. The purpose of the whole affair there is to reinforce that The World Bad, and Rejects the Word of God, and the Only REAL community you have is the Church. They understand you. This creates not just the insulation that gives them a chance to practice the script of the Rejected Religious Warrior, but create distance from reality.

Belos has been working on the worlds most horrible DIY project. He's been doing it for 400 years. What on earth can sustain that laser focus, him working while his body monsterizes and turns to evil Ghibli goo around him? Man hasn't eaten real food in 400 years.

His brother's death! The point of no return in Phillips villain origin (inciting incident: the moment Caleb fell for Evelyn). Each incarnation is going to to have a witch's pointed ears and the Grimwalkers pink eyes, wear different scars that Belos himself stuck there, but it's still his face. Sure it's a younger face than Caleb had when HE died, but at this point it hardly matters. Phillip is farming Caleb's death to re-inspire the moment where genocide entered his heart. These witches have taken you from me, Caleb. I'll make them all pay.

But first, I'll make YOU pay.

This bitch was going to take time out of the Day of Unity to kill Hunter if he got him. My god. Given that he was pressed for time I like to think it would have been quick but god if this is any indication...ugh.

I feel gross! 8)

#toh #the owl house #toh spoilers #toh hunter #hunter wittebane #emperor belos #this is so messed up #ari don’t look!#this will end up in the video essay with more stuff but I had to get my thoughts out because its making me insane #ash's owl house meta

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dearlyjun · 1 month

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your tags on the last post???? yeonjun please 🙏 I'll pay the fees

-ari

OHHH SHIT im being passed the microphone

this might be tmi but I used to have a boy toy that would send me ~videos~ and I was always afraid to turn the sound on 😭😭 I was stupid and shy to admit I liked it LMAO

yeonjun would probably be like “turn the sound on baby” and he’d be whining your name or some shit as you can hear him jerking off…saying nonsense about he needs you so bad…you’d look so pretty with your mouth around his cock…FUCK IM

and he’d send tasteful dick pics…or like the outline through the sweatpants. biting his lip or having a stupid smirk on his face.

(my hot take is dick pics and shit are hot if tasteful and good. like don’t just whip out your dick and show it to me lmao)

#ash speaks #txt hard thoughts #ari ☆

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solthewizard · 1 year

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rip remus lupin you would've loved aristotle and dante

#remus lupin #remussy #aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe #ari and dante #aristotle and dante dive into the waters of the world #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #moony #wolfstar #wearing red converse in a james potter ash lynx and ari and dante way #marauders #moons #aristotle #dante #remus #lupin #werewolf boy

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papabirdurskeks · 4 months

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When your husband brings food to the nest and doesn't clean it after nor understands how annoying it is

#soulsborne #dark souls 3 #dark souls #father ariandel #corvian #oc #Restored Painting AU #sketches #don't worry Dunstan will be fine #Ari is just annoyed with him xD #he does it often xD #ashes of ariandel

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carewyncromwell · 2 months

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"You want a ride to fame? I've got the fastest route! What's it gonna be? Are you in or out?"

x~x~x~x

HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri // Rakepick's outfit // Duncan's outfit // the more "court-worthy" outfit Duncan eventually bought for Jacob

x~x~x~x

The day Jacob Cromwell first arrived at the palace of Spades, he earned more than a few skeptical side-eyes. It was hard not to judge Jacob poorly, when he strolled inside dressed in clothes more appropriate to working in a mechanic's shop than in one of the most powerful royal courts in Cinderhaven. His black slacks and white shirt were clean and his boots were polished, yes, but he'd rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and the lone pop of color in Jacob's outfit -- his red suspenders -- were far too informal for such a setting. And yet Jacob walked with his head held high, almost arrogantly so, and went straight to work in his new workshop just down the hall from the office of his boss, the also very recently installed Jack of Spades, Duncan Ashe.

One of those most skeptical of Jacob -- at least at first -- was the Ace of Spades, Patricia Rakepick. She had been the one hold-out in selecting Duncan as Ulrich Scheller's replacement, citing his young age and subsequent lack of experience as rationale, but she'd ultimately been overruled. Not only did the King of Spades, Oskar Doyle, support Duncan's promotion, but the Queen of Spades had agreed with it too, before her tragic death. Even Ulrich Scheller himself was steadfast about Duncan being the one to take his old position.

"Mr. Ashe may be young, but he has discerning judgment -- far better than even I had at his age," the former Jack had said. "I've always valued his counsel as my subordinate, and I think the Court of Spades will come to appreciate that very same counsel once he takes my place."

Rakepick was not convinced. And, to be fair, it was hard for her not to feel some resentment at how seemingly easily it had been for Duncan Ashe to climb the ranks of power, while still fresh out of university. Perhaps it was dumb luck or the fact that Duncan was a young man with a good sense of dress from a reasonably well-respected family -- a more objective source might also have pointed out that Duncan was a far more likable person than Rakepick. Even despite his brusqueness, he could be witty and funny and yet also dedicated, down-to-earth, hard-working, and supportive. Duncan chased his ambitions with laser-precision, and yet he also never failed to take helpful input from the people around him. His pride was never so inflated that he couldn't take constructive criticism or admit when he was wrong, nor was it an obstacle to him making iron-clad friendships that gave him people in his corner who stuck with him solely out of sincere enjoyment for his company.

Rakepick's critical view of Duncan Ashe, however, completely justified her initial suspicion of Jacob Cromwell. This suspicion quickly flickered out, though, when she made a point to stop by the Jack's stooge's new workshop.

It was still quite early that morning — most of the King’s, Jack’s and Ace’s staffs had only just started their work for the day -- and yet that oddly chipper new "favorite" of the Jack of Spades' was already hard at work. He’d arrived a good half hour before his scheduled shift and used that extra time to hang up the blueprints for the couple dozen projects he'd already hashed out to show "Ashe" when he arrived later that morning. Then, at his formal start time, Jacob set about testing out his new power-saw (which the curly-haired young man had fanboyed over when he first saw it) to cut out a metal skeleton for his blimp prototype while also making some alterations to the blueprint on his desk.

By the time Rakepick dropped in, she found Jacob in the midst of a short "break" in his work, which entailed him adjusting the screws on a device set up under his desk.

Because Jacob was so preoccupied with what he was doing, he didn't get a good look at who had entered. And because he was so used to being an overworked part-time mechanic, cook, and librarian, his first instinct was not to stop what he was doing, introduce himself to the person, and ask how he could help them, but to greet the stranger cheerfully without even looking up from his work.

"Hey there! Come on in and look around if you’d like — I’ll be right with you!"

Rakepick cocked her eyebrows at the young man largely obscured under the desk, tightening the screws on what looked like the foot pedal of an old sewing machine. With a roll of her eyes, the Ace looked around — only to be startled by the prototype hanging over her head.

It resembled — for lack of a better term — a small mechanical dragon, with its “head” and “limbs” cut into halves hanging from separate wires. The wings were crafted out of aluminum, carved wood, and fabric, and the “body” was a balloon with multiple model stairways attached to it and aluminum “legs” hanging off of them and cut open to show off rooms on the inside. Even the head (adorned with two thick lightning rods as horns) was cut down the middle to show off a miniature cockpit on the inside.

Rakepick actually raised her gloved hand to shift the head around, her eyes widening with interest upon the intricately designed interior. It even had a miniature control panel with what looked like tiny fuses. When she tapped at one of the levers inside the model, two spotlights appeared out of the dragon’s mouth, casting a light down onto the multiple blueprints laid out on the desk.

"It’s a modified blimp," said Jacob’s voice from under the desk. "Those mouth lights would be hydroelectric-powered, via collected rainwater -- I originally thought of using solar power, but too much concentrated heat could run a risk of the thing catching fire, since the blimp itself would use hydrogen...much less rare alternative to helium…"

Rakepick raised her eyebrows. "Hydroelectric power, you say?"

Didn’t Duncan Ashe bring up something once about hydroelectric power in one of his meetings with Ulrich Scheller…?

"Yeah!" said Jacob cheerfully, still not looking up. "I brought it up to Ashe a while ago, shifting our main source of power away from coal and toward hydroelectric -- and he thinks it’d be a great way to save money for other projects. Plus water's much less hazardous to work with…though if coal can be mined more safely, I reckon it could still be used, just in smaller amounts…still need to make a prototype or two for that project…"

Then this person was where Duncan Ashe stole that idea from. Rakepick pursed her lips. It seemed this new Jack really was good at getting credit not rightfully owed him.

"But hey, there's only so much time in a day!" Jacob laughed to himself. "Only sent my letters of resignation in yesterday morning — didn't really have time to get all these ideas out of my head, before that…"

Rakepick glanced around. By her count, she could see five unfinished blueprints hung up on the wall, one more and several printed graphs on the work bench next to an old phonograph, and what looked like a row of small plant boxes with thermometers stuck in each one.

"…You did all this just in one day?" she asked.

"In half a day, a night, and some of this morning. But yeah."

This boy works hard, thought Rakepick.

"Though a few ideas I'd been ruminating on for a while, beforehand," Jacob pressed on. "I just hope it's enough…I've never worked as any kind of advisor before. Don't really know how much my work will be commission-based and how much will be free-lance…"

Rakepick crossed her arms, considering the young man's spade-gloved hands under the desk testing out the little sewing machine wheel he'd attached to the leg of his desk. Only when he turned it did Rakepick realize it was attached to the phonograph on the desk, and the wheel turning also made the crank handle rotate.

"I think that depends on whether that project on your desk is something the Jack commissioned," said Rakepick, "or if you came up with it for him by yourself."

Jacob laughed. "Oh, this? Nah, this is just a personal project...I wanted to use it back at the mechanic shop, originally, but I didn't have proper room for it...Wyn, my sister Carewyn, she let me keep it in pieces under our window, until I could figure out where to put it -- "

Once Jacob had finished his adjustments, he got up off the floor at last, sat down in his chair in front of the blueprint, and pressed the foot pedal. The pedal made the wheel rotate, which subsequently turned the crank on the phonograph so that it could play the record set on it.

"When the red, red robin comes bob-bob-bobbin' along...along... There'll be no more sobbin' when he starts throbbin' his old sweet song..."

Jacob's almond-shaped blue eyes lit up in delight seeing his invention working right, and he cheerfully sing along to the next few lines.

"Wake up -- wake up, you sleepy head! Get up -- get up, get out of bed! Cheer up -- cheer up, the sun is red! Live, love, laugh, and be happy..."

Rakepick's eyes trailed over the modified phonograph, along the careful metal-work attaching the disparate pieces and the screws securing them to the work bench. All this effort and inventiveness, for something this boy wasn't intending to get any reward for from his employer...

Rakepick's lips curled up in a very slight smirk. She had to admit -- she was impressed.

Still pedaling away to play the song on the record, Jacob finally looked up at the person who'd entered his workshop with a smile. That smile dimmed, though, when he realized just who he was talking to.

"Oh," said Jacob, startled. His foot stopped pedaling as his eyes flitted quickly to the sword at Rakepick's side and the stylized silver-white pauldrons on her shoulders. "Uh...you with the military or something?"

Rakepick smirked. "'Or something.' Patricia Rakepick -- Ace of Spades. And you'd be Jacob Cromwell, of course."

"Uh -- yeah." Jacob looked sheepish.

Rakepick's smirk widened a bit. "You seem surprised to see me."

"Sorry -- I didn't think anyone outside of Ashe's people would be interested in any of this," said Jacob, sounding slightly abashed as he crossed one leg across his lap. "I mean, this stuff's really more for interior projects -- nothing that fancy..."

"You sell yourself short, Master Cromwell," said Rakepick. She once again indicated the prototype of the blimp hanging from the ceiling. "Frankly I'd say with a brain like yours, you could make a rather fine Jack yourself, some day."

Jacob's blue eyes went very wide. Then, almost immediately, his expression gained a much darker look -- one that swept through offense and disgust so thoroughly that it was close to revulsion.

"Uh -- no," he said incredibly bluntly. "Ashe is the Jack."

"I never said he wasn't," said Rakepick, "merely that you're more than qualified for such a position. More qualified than many candidates I could envision as Jack...or King, for that matter..."

"I wouldn't want the post, in any case," Jacob cut her off. "I'm not here to do Ashe's job, or the King's."

So this boy had no ambition in that direction? That was reassuring, to Rakepick.

"Good to hear it," said the Ace, before she added a bit more lowly, "...Though it occurs to me that may be why you were brought here in the first place."

Jacob's eyebrows furrowed. Rakepick folded her arms behind her back as she considered him.

"Mr. Ashe brought up your ideas to the rest of court, long before your arrival," she said grimly. "He's glided to where he is partly on the back of your creativity -- is it so surprising that he'd want to keep leeching off of your efforts and use them to earn further prestige for himself?"

Rakepick's eyes narrowed a bit.

"Your talents are far too impressive for you not to get full credit for them, Master Cromwell. I can think of quite a few projects outside of the Jack's domain that could use a mind like yours -- ones that would pay very well and offer further rewards, for your efforts."

Jacob, however, had already closed himself off visibly -- he slouched back in his chair and crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing.

"No offense, Madam Ace, but I'm not here for money or 'prestige' or whatever. I don't give a damn about politics -- I'm here because I want to do something useful, not prance around like a show horse, schmoozing with people. The only power I care about is the power in my brain and in my own two hands -- and I intend to use them to work really hard and make things that solve real problems. I want to help Ashe and the Country of Spades, however I can."

Rakepick's brows raised. This boy wasn't interested in financial reward either? A truly rare breed, to find at court.

"...That's quite noble of you, Master Cromwell," she said, and she meant it. "And it's for that reason that my offer still stands. If you wish so much to be of use, your talent and creativity would be incredibly useful, in giving the army the means to protect the Country of Spades. Your blimp prototype, for instance -- I imagine it could be a perfect flagship, with some minor alterations and a proper set of guns -- "

"Guns?" Jacob repeated, appalled. "Madam, the blimp of that prototype is full of hydrogen. Anything using gunpowder could risk setting the whole thing ablaze. That flying machine is strictly meant for long-distance transport, to reduce travel time and be more resilient to bad weather..."

"A very good idea, when our King has to travel frequently to other parts of Cinderhaven."

The stylishly dressed Jack of Spades had materialized seemingly out of nowhere and walked up behind Jacob's chair, bringing his hand onto his subordinate's shoulder. Jacob looked up at him, and his expression immediately brightened.

"Ashe!"

"I'm flattered that you approve of my staff appointments, Madam Ace," said Duncan, though his voice betrayed a notable edge, "but as you might've noticed, Jacob has quite a few projects already in the works for his place here, working for me. I'm afraid any commissions you might wish to offer him will have to wait."

Rakepick pursed her lips. She got the feeling that Duncan had overheard a lot more of her and Jacob's conversation than he would've admitted -- he was more than clever enough to eavesdrop for important information before making himself known.

"Perhaps," she granted. She turned on her heel, but paused long enough to shoot a cold smile over her shoulder at Duncan. "But don't hoard him away all for yourself, Mr. Ashe. A young man of talent like Master Cromwell could change the world, so long as he has the freedom to chase his own success."

Duncan clenched his jaw as the Ace strolled off.

"Don't hoard him away" -- you dodgy geebag, if you even think of trying to snatch Jacob up for yourself -- !

"What a weird woman."

Duncan looked at Jacob, startled, to see the man frowning very deeply at Rakepick's retreating back.

"She acts like she's complimenting you, and then she says things that make absolutely no sense," Jacob muttered irritably. "'So long as he has the freedom to chase his own success' -- as if I somehow don't? And insinuating that I'm here to do your job...I'm a technology guy, I'm not here to waste time kissing up to people..."

"Good to know you think I'm wasting time," Duncan said very dryly.

Jacob looked sideswiped. "Huh? What, no -- I didn't say that! I said it'd be a waste of time for me to do that..."

"Of course it would -- I'm already doing it," Duncan cut him off smoothly with a wry smile.

His smile then faded as his face grew more serious.

"...Jacob...what Rakepick said...it's not true, not a bit of it. Of course, yes, I did share your ideas at court -- but I did not take credit for them...I told the former Jack they were yours. And I didn't want you here so you could do my work for me or make me look better. I wanted you here because...well, your ideas are useful, and I..."

I want you around. I want you around all the time, not just at that old tavern every Tuesday and Thursday...

Duncan swallowed, his dark eyes flitting down to Jacob's lips and back up into his blue eyes.

"...I do...want you to succeed. I want your work to be appreciated. All of it -- whether it's for me or not."

Jacob grinned. It made his blue eyes sparkle, even though his face lacked any light of revelation about the unspoken sentiment in Duncan's posture.

"I know, Ashe," he said. "And that's all I want, really, to know my work means something. Sure, the paycheck's great -- " he gave a cheekier grin, " -- makes it easier for me to support myself, Wyn, and Mum, you know...but I took the job because you wanted my help, needed my help. And well, you know me...I like to help people. Especially the ones I care about."

Duncan tried very hard to bite back the flush rising in his cheeks. Somehow Jacob completely missed it, though, because his focus was drawn to the blueprint he'd left on his desk.

"Speaking of which!" he said brightly. He snatched up the blueprint and held it up for Duncan to see. "I sketched out a concept for a new hydroelectric generator, for your upcoming meeting with the King of Spades! I suggested several dimension sizes, since I wasn't sure how big the boiler here is, but I thought the palace would be a good place to test its efficiency and ability to heat multiple levels..."

Duncan looked it over and nodded in approval.

"Not bad," he said, and his lips unfurled in a more mischievous smile. "I think the King and the rest of the court will be very impressed with it, and you, when you accompany me to the meeting."

Jacob was taken aback. "Wha -- ? You want me to -- ?"

"Yes -- but only after I take you shopping for some new clothes. I'm not introducing you to Oskar Doyle in red suspenders."

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphm cardverse #cardverse au #jacob cromwell #patricia rakepick #duncan ashe #my art #art #my writing #fanfiction #lololol while drawing that one extra jacashe drawing under the cut I was listening to kaci battaglia's crazy possessive #and it felt SO much like an inner monologue for duncan seeing rakepick trying to recruit his -boyfriend- subordinate #'call my man again and I'mma F*** you up!' XDDD #also for the record duncan that IS the nicest outfit jacob has at this particular time in his life #lane even cleaned his clothes specially so they'd be spotless ;~;#jacob wanted to wear the red suspenders because red's his favorite color and carewyn supported him because color is good!#jacob did end up really liking what duncan picked out and bought for him though :')#oh yes! and all allusions to the previous king and queen of spades are inspired by lore developed by ari about them <3 #red red robin is a fun parallel because in hphm canon carewyn's animagus form is a robin #whereas carewyn listens to a lot of songs about bluebirds in this canon when lane calls jacob her 'blue jay' in most canons

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djuvlipen · 10 months

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"There is also little indication that Jews or members of political groups targeted by the regime paid close attention to the persecution of German Sinti and Roma in the 1930s.10 Reading Jewish sources—and histories of the Holocaust that draw on these sources—one would not know that Roma lived through new forms of internment before Jews did. In fact, as early as 1935 municipal authorities in Cologne began moving Roma to camps. These efforts accelerated around the 1936 Berlin Olympics, when authorities decided that the removal of “Gypsies” from urban centers would help Germany manage its international reputation.11 By the end of 1936, Berlin, Frankfurt am Main, Düsseldorf, Essen, Dortmund, Gelsenkirchen, and other municipalities operated policed camps for “Gypsies.”12 This confinement of Sinti and Roma to particular living areas allowed the authorities to surveil, register, and more effectively categorize them, eventually facilitating authorities’ ability to deport them to concentration camps.13

If and when German Jews noticed these attempts to isolate German Romanies, they likely perceived them much as other Europeans did, as extensions of long-standing policies toward unwanted populations by welfare authorities, municipalities, and state security forces. Given the long history of anti-Romani policing in Europe, arresting “Gypsies” as asocials might have seemed like business as usual, whereas boycotting Jewish stores seemed like a radical departure. Being treated like a “Gypsy”—“behandelt wie a zigeiner,” as the historian Simon Dubnow put it to describe the abuse of Jews in nineteenth-century Romania—was certainly an ominous sign.14 Yet there was little reason for German Jews to think they would end up in a “Gypsy camp” on the outskirts of German cities.15 Most Jews viewed themselves as people who occupied a fundamentally different place in society than did the Sinti and Roma in their environment. Under these circumstances, it is not surprising that “Gypsy” camps did not show up in early Holocaust histories: the first generation of survivor historians did not understand them as part of their story.16

-- Ari Joskowicz, Rain of Ash: Roma, Jews and the Holocaust, 2023.

#ari joskowicz #rain of ash #quotes #samudaripen #porrajmos #holocaust

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flashhwing · 1 year

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allow me to be obsessed with yet another of my hawkes

#oliver hawke #he's no hemsworth like ari but he IS catered even more specifically to my tastes #ash plays dragon age #this has been a post #that red hawke semi-permanent brow furrow

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pluralitywords · 9 months

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Hi all we found this server while searching for discord servers and it mentioned a term we have never heard of before:

Mindset

Specifically a mindset who was splitagenic

This peaked our interest because we had never heard of mindset being used in this way, especially not with a -genic term.

We haven’t been able to find anything that mentions this term and when we joined the server itself to ask we found that it is inactive with no explanations on what a mindset is exactly.

If anyone knows about this term please let us know!

#member: aris #member: cloud #member: ash #system terms #headmate terms #system origins #headmate origins #pluralgang #plural #system

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julescarstairs · 4 months

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That Which Is Precious and Lost: Chapter One

Chapter One: Pure Distilled Horror

Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs seldom ever found her home empty— at least, not without a note on the kitchen bench, or a text from her Mom or Dad letting her know they were going out. But when she returned to Blackthorn Hall from patrol, she found the vast home dark and so silent you could hear a pin drop, and there was not a single text on her phone. Maybe some teenagers her age wouldn't mind their parents stepping out without saying anything. Maybe some would savour the quiet ambiance: the faint chirping of crickets out the window, or the hum of wind as it blew past the curtains... but this was not a comfortable sort of quiet. And Eleanor's parents never stepped out without letting her know.

"Mom?" Ellie called, wiping her feet on the doormat (an old housewarming gift from Aunt Dru, marked with the letters “ENTER, IF YOU DARE") just inside the Hall's large doors. Her voice reverberated off the walls, leaving only her own echo to offer a reply. After that, there was only silence again. "Mom, Dad. I'm home!"

Eleanor strained her ears, listening for a hint of her parents presence anywhere. Still nothing. Only silence and darkness welcomed her home. Not a single candle nor light was lit in the house, it seemed — not even the kitchen was lit, and there was no light upstairs, or under the doors. Strange.

In the shadows surrounding Eleanor now, she could see the eerie old manor home her parents had been greeted with when they first arrived to fix it up years ago, long before she was born: the one that had been haunted by a restless ghost. She could only navigate the halls by the infrequent moonlight coming in through the windows. Eleanor stopped dead at the foot of the stairs, tipping her head back to look up at the landing above.

She forced herself to laugh, but it sounded more nervous than she'd intended it to. "Listen, if you're trying to freak me out, it's... well, it's working," she admitted meekly, but her voice didn't lower. "You can come out now!"

Maybe Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs had been overthinking that night. Perhaps it had only been an oversight on her parents' behalf. Perhaps it had been something urgent that they needed to leave quickly for. But even then, they would have told her. They would have brought her along if it was urgent. They wouldn't leave her alone in the house in pitch darkness with not so much as a text telling her where they had gone.

Would they?

Indeed, perhaps Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs could have been overthinking that night, if not for the fact that her father's gorgeous paintings that adorned the walls of the main foyer had been absolutely mutilated. Eleanor sucked in a gasp, and staggered back against the wall behind her. Paintings of her mother had their eyes gouged out — one even had a clean slice right down the centre of her body - and family portraits had been slashed with ‘X’ shapes across each face. Even the smaller portraits of Eleanor herself, as a baby, had been sliced at the neck, leaving her looking like her little head had been severed from her shoulders. The implications behind each tarnished painting were enough to make the back of Ellie's throat taste sour.

Something was very wrong.

"Dad!" Eleanor tried to shout, but it came out as more of a cry, and hurried down the hall to where her Father's studio was located. If he wasn't upstairs— if he was anywhere — he would be in his art studio. Her mother might even be there, too, watching him paint. As Eleanor drew closer to the room, as her trembling hand gripped the doorknob, she found herself hesitating. Her heart was pounding so heavily in her chest that it hurt. Her head felt insanely light as her mind raced. What if she saw something beyond the door she didn't like? What if they were in there, but they were...

No. She couldn't afford to think like that. Couldn't afford to hesitate. She threw open the door to her Father's studio, and nearly doubled over as her chest lurched with pure distilled horror.

Before her was the image of her nightmares.

To say the studio was a mess would be an understatement: an unfinished painting was wedged partway through a window, the canvas torn where shards of glass cut into it. An easel lay snapped on the ground, a small craft table in the corner broken clean in half. The small paintings that hung on the walls here had been mutilated violently, too, and Eleanor's childhood drawings were torn to shreds under her feet. She couldn't even imagine how livid her Dad would be if he found the studio in the state that she did.

Paint had been upturned; there were smears of a dark colour, like blue, on the floor. There were stains splattered up the wall. But those looked humble in comparison to the handprints on the walls, on the floors. Ellie's blood ran cold — so cold that she shivered.

She dropped to her knees beside two of the prints on the ground, and tentatively put her left hand over one of them. Eleanor had always marvelled at how hers and her mother's hands had been the same size and shape— but now the thought only made her feel sicker as her hand fit perfectly over the handprint on the ground. Looking over at the other print in her dizzy haze of panic, Ellie noticed it was slightly larger, longer fingered: one of her father's hands. Whatever had happened in here, they had been together. Of course. She withdrew her hand, and it came away wet. Not a thin kind of wet, like watercolour, but not a thick kind of wet, like oil paint. It was an in between, sticky sensation.

Like blood. Another wave of nausea roiled over Eleanor, sending her head spinning further, as she raised her hand to the moonlight. Bright red. Eleanor almost choked as a guttural sound tore from her throat, partway between a cry and a scream. She got to her feet and ran back up the hall so quickly she almost staggered. She clambered up the stairs to where her parents' room was.

She threw that door open — so harshly it almost fell off the hinges — and found that the bedroom, too, was in shambles. The bedsheets were ripped from the bed, the bedside drawers pulled out of their cabinet. Her parents' personal belongings were strewn across the room. The wallpaper was torn to shreds, and barely clung to the plaster. To her dismay, her mother's family ring laid on the ground under the windowsill.

Ellie sobbed into her fist as she sank against the door frame. Her mind was still racing, with all the worst-case scenarios. There was a pillow, still intact, at her feet. Eleanor sank down on her knees without thinking and swept it up, hugging it close to her chest. She gripped it so tightly in her trembling hands that her fingertips hurt. She inhaled its scent, an odd mixture of cloves, soap and rosewater. It was the smell of home: of her parents, of her rocks. Of her sanity. And she clung to that scent, let it clear her head, as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Now was not the time for weeping. She had to try and make sense of the situation. She kept the pillow hugged close to her, occasionally burying her nose in it, as she pondered what to do next.

Focus, she told herself. She carried the pillow from the bedroom, and drew the door shut behind her. She paced the halls, up and down, back and forth, until an idea finally came to her. She hadn't tried calling them. She hadn't gotten calls from them, but that didn't mean she couldn't try ringing out. It was worth a shot, anyway.

Eleanor drew her phone from her pocket, and dialled her mother's number, lifting the phone to her ear. "Please, Mom," she whispered int the silence. "Please, pick up.."

But it was no use: Eleanor was only greeted by a loud, screeching static noise that pierced her eardrum and made her teeth grind painfully against each other. She cursed, and used all her energy to not fling her phone out the window beside her. It was a weird noise, one that she didn't think phones were capable of making, but she didn't have time to dwell on that. Maybe her Dad would answer, Ellie thought, and dialled her father's number. That, too, was futile: she was only greeted with ear-piercing static once again. Hugging the pillow close, Ellie sobbed.

Where are you? She asked inside her mind, staring out the nearest window. What happened? Are you even alive?

Her frantic thoughts were quickly interrupted at a loud thump downstairs. Tears forgotten, Eleanor scrambled for the landing, stopping herself short. She watched, silently, as a silhouetted figure crept about the halls below. They seemed to be staring up at the tarnished portraits, with their back to where Ellie stood. Admiring their handiwork, she thought bitterly. Cold, sharp rage built up inside her as she slid down the handrail of the stairs. She threw herself at the figure in the hall, drawing Cortana from its sheath on her back as she did. The figure turned, and —

"Ellie!" A feminine voice shrieked as the figure scrambled back into the moonlight, revealing her face. "Ellie! It's me! I'm safe!"

Eleanor's shoulders slumped with relief as she staggered to a standstill. “By the Angel, LJ,” she wrapped her 15-year-old cousin in a tight hug, her breath coming out in a woosh. “You shouldn't creep in like this.”

Livia (commonly referred to as her cousins as LJ, or Livvy Junior) wrapped her wiry arms around Eleanor, clinging to her for a moment. She could feel Livia trembling under her arms, and the sensation only made dread unfurl in Ellie’s stomach. “I didn't know what else to do,” LJ admitted, before pushing herself away. “Or where else to go. I was looking for Uncle Jules, but all the lights were out. I didn't know if him and Aunt Emma had been attacked too, so…”

"Too?" There it was. Exactly what Eleanor had been fearing. She rocked back on her heels as a wave of nausea sent her into a head-spin. “Uncle Kit? Uncle Ty? They're—"

"Missing," LJ's hands shook as she gripped Eleanor's. Ellie listened intently as LJ recounted the events of her evening, her panic levels only rising with each new, frightening detail. Her family's apartment on Baker Street had been trashed, too, and Uncle Ty and Uncle Kit were nowhere to be found. No sooner had LJ finished, Elli's phone rang out into the silence. Eleanor scrambled for her phone, and her heart only grew heavier as she saw the name on the phone: her older cousin, Arrius.

She answered. "Ari. Thank the Angel—"

"Eleanor, something's terribly wrong," Ari said before Ellie could finish.

"You're telling me."

"Are they gone too? Your parents?"

"Yes," Eleanor briefly recounted hers and LJ’s experiences. "What about Uncle Mark? Aunt Cristina?"

It was the same story again. Arrius and Celeste's parents were missing, including Uncle K. But not only that — their youngest cousins, twins Oberon and Lucas, had arrived at Ari and Celeste's family's apartment in New York as they spoke on the phone: Aunt Dru and Uncle Ash were missing, too.

It seemed that all their parents were.

~~~~

@tsc-reader

#tsc fanfic #the shadowhunter chronicles #the dark artifices #the wicked powers #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #ty blackthorn #cristina rosales #kit herondale #mark blackthorn #ash morgenstern #that which is precious and lost #twipal #eleanor blackthorn-carstairs #ari blackthorn-kingson-rosales #celeste blackthorn-kingson-rosales #lj blackthorn-herondale #luc morgenstern #oberon morgenstern

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