#cassandra clare fan fiction

[luciehercndale]

The New Guy With The Gentle Smile - Thomastair

I had too many self-indulgent ideas that I didn't want to invest too much time about and turn them in long one shots, so that is how this collection came to be. This means that this collection will contain drabbles set in different moments of TLH (pre and post canon) at different stages of Thomastair's relationship. I want to write about random things about their life, silly things, I don't know - this is meant to be fun and non linear, so you may read the drabbles as standalone pieces. The first one is set at the Academy and Thomas and Alastair are 13-14. I wrote about their first encounter :)

Read on A03 💜

“Who is the new guy?”

Alastair never thought that he would be interested in the answer to that simple question. Every once in a while since he had joined the Academy, there was a new student. Some of them were worth his time, some others were not. 

He scanned the training room for the latecomer until he found him by the window. His hair was a dull brown, typical white boy brown, and his build wasn’t memorable either. Alastair thought the new student was as old as him, yet he looked younger. 

“Someone who wants to suffer, maybe,” replied one of the guys in his clique, whispering behind him. “He’s a Lightwood.”

“What? Who is his father?” asked another. “The one with the father in politics or the less famous Lightwood?”

“Who cares? The only thing that matters is that we have a new subject to annoy, don’t we?” it was Augustus Pounceby this time, who replied viciously. 

Alastair was still eyeing the newcomer with a frown but he knew his friend was a little obsessed with that precise Lightwood family, the one with the father in politics, and their younger daughter. Gideon Lightwood’s son, not Gabriel’s, Alastair answered in his thoughts. Thomas. He must be Thomas Lightwood.

Alastair knew that the question was aimed at him, but he dismissed the guy with a hand as if he was worth nothing, and went to Thomas. Whatever he would say to him would affect how others would behave with him, so he decided to test him first.

“Lightwood?” he demanded sourly. Thomas was minding his own business – Alastair noticed he was reading a book of poetry in Spanish – and he barely moved his head in acknowledgment. Alastair’s tone didn’t mean to be harsh, but it had to be. For his sake.

At last, Thomas Lightwood turned his attention to him. “I’m sorry?” he said with the hint of an apologetic smile which reached his hazel eyes. “I was lost in my book.” 

Alastair glanced down at the volume. “What is this about?” he wondered, unable to translate nor to see the words clearly from his position. He loved languages, but he had yet to learn Spanish. Seeing the new guy with a gentle smile reading Spanish poetry reminded him that he needed to hurry and learn it. Perhaps next time, they could discuss it together.

“Coplas por la muerte de su padre by Jorge Manrique,” he explained, showing what he was reading. Seeing that Alastair nodded, but didn’t speak, he continued: “He is a poet from the medieval age in Spain. He wrote this elegy after his father’s death.” 

“And what does it say?” Alastair asked, unable to stop himself. He was curious to know why someone would dedicate poetry to their father, and Thomas was about to answer when one of Alastair’s acquaintances cleared his voice behind him. He rolled his eyes. “Well?” he inquired venomously. “What do you need?”

“You were taking so long, Carstairs,” it was Thoby who came. “We need to go. Break time is over. Augustus and Piers already left.”

“I didn’t think you cared so much about being punctual to class,” he answered sternly. “Lightwood,” Alastair gazed down at Thomas, whose expression was neutral but still warm. “I will see you next time in class,” he nodded his head to greet him and the other guy did the same. 

He wanted to stay and talk. Talk about Spanish poets, ask him when he learned Spanish. Talk about all the things Augustus, Piers and Thoby didn’t give a damn about, while he did. But he couldn’t. He had a reputation to uphold, and showing kindness to a stranger in front of one of his lackeys wasn’t in the books. 

Perhaps Thoby had saved him when he interrupted him, but he still got mad after they left the room and were out of Thomas’ earshot. “Do not interrupt next time,” he warned Thoby. “There is no class after this and I was still questioning him.”

“I just wanted to save you from the Lightwood boy,” Thoby said. “He was talking nonsense.”

Alastair shot him a glare. “It isn’t nonsense until I say so,” he said icily, his tone final. “We don’t touch Thomas.” It was an order.

“Is it Thomas now?” Thoby shrugged and shook his head. Alastair wanted to slap him so hard but he tried to restrain himself. Thoby was a disgrace. “Are you afraid his daddy is going to come after you if we mess with him like we do with other people?”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” he seethed,  “Keep away from Lightwood,” he ordered, and Thoby shrugged. Alastair wondered if he should keep away from him too, but he would think about it another day. 

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this <3

I tried to imagine how Thomas and Alastair's first encounter at the Academy would go, and I figured that the latter would approach him first and try to see if he was a friend or a foe. They are about 13-14 here, hence why I thought Alastair wouldn't have known Spanish by then (bc I headcanon that Alastair also learned Spanish at some point, like Thomas). We know from CLS that Thomas followed Alastair around at some point, before Alastair and his gang started harassing James and the others.

#tsc #thomastair #tlh #tsc fan fiction #tsc fanfiction #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #chain of thorns #chain of iron #chain of gold #tales from the shadowhunter academy #tweey.writes #thomas and alastair

[zickmonkey]

Fairchild Family Fic

Mild Chain of Thorns spoilers, Matthew tells his parents his secret. 2,270 words. Also soon to be cross posted on Ao3.

"Jamie?" Matthew had knocked on the office door Cordelia had led him to, before opening it completely, not waiting for his parabatai to call back. Surprising himself when he opened the door without trouble from his shaking hands.

"Math?" James was already looking towards the doorway, towards him, his eyebrows drawn in just enough his face began to crease, his golden eyes direct on Matthew.

"My- my parents leave for Idris, tomorrow. It's their last night in London-"

James cocked his head, "Are you thinking of going back with them?"

"No." He shook his head. "Oscar and I are staying. I was going to tell them, tonight, about-about what- I was going to tell them, before they left. I was- I was hoping you'd come with me."

His friend's head was at enough of an angle that his dark hair was free, tumbling off his forehead in groups, looking messy and carefree. But his face didn't match, the look of worry didn't leave it while he nodded.

"Of course, Matthew. Of course I'll come with you." James stood up, putting aside any concern he visibly felt for his friend and smiled. A gesture Matthew appreciated, when his friends smile had come to be such a comfort over the years, a common similarity.

• • •

James had held Matthew's hand the entire carriage ride to his parents house, keeping it still in between both of their laps.

"I don't know what I'll do," Matthew murmured, "if they don't forgive me." They were stopped outside of his parents house, should've been going in it. But he wasn't ready to move, just yet.

"They will, Math. There's not a doubt in my mind that they will." His parabatai had gently let go of his hand, signaling that it was time to go, but he leveled a clear look at him first that said he wasn't done with what he was saying. "But Matthew, will you forgive yourself with them?"

"I'll try."

"That's the most I could ask for."

James stepped out of the carriage without waiting, giving Matthew no opportunity to change his mind. Not when it would mean leaving his poor bestfriend stranded.

His hands were shaking as he followed James, standing beside him, both of them facing the Fairchild home. His hand no longer held his parabatai's, instead they only held each other in a half hearted attempt to keep them still that failed miserably.

"What if they don't let me in?" Matthew looked at his friend with what felt like the fakest smile he'd ever put on, trying pretend it was a dumb joke and not something he really was scared of. He couldn't bare the thought of walking up to the doors only to be locked out, worse if he'd have to knock and they'd refuse his entrance.

"It's your home, Matthew. And they're your parents. Their door will always be open to you."

"They might not consider it my home anymore. . . I've rarely visited since I moved out. Recently I haven't at all, aside from after Edom. After Belial, and London. . . I'd let my mother lead me home, I slept in my old bed, but I'd left early in the morning. Before they'd woken." He could only imagine how it must of hurt his mother to find him gone like that, without even saying goodbye. It made him want to go inside even less.

"Your mother will let you back in now, too. She will lead you to the same bed, if you need it, she will love you just as much Math."

He shook his head, hanging it just enough he could see the shined black leather of his shoes, before he separated his hands and reached one out to ask for James's.

"I don't suppose if they cast me out yours would take me in? They accepted a ghost, why not someone who attempted matricide?" This he had completely meant as a jest, but Jamie did not laugh, even for his benefit.

"They won't cast you out, Matthew. You're their son."

He allowed himself one more breath before he lead James up the steps, and despite having a key, knocked.

He could not have bared to try the key to find out the locks had been changed, so he did not try.

It took too long for someone to answer.

Long enough that he began to believe they'd spied him through a window and had refused him entry, that he should just turn and leave.

He'd just begun to tug on James's hand to do so, when the door opened.

Matthew stared at his mother, and his mother stared back.

"Matthew," It was less greeting, and more of a numb surprise she hadn't meant to voice. "James. Hello." She hadn't stopped looking at her son.

"Is Charles home?" He asked.

His mother had always been small, both height and stature, but she'd always had a way about her that made her feel so much bigger. You forgot, when she was in a room, that she was so slight, so small, she was always in charge. If not in charge, confident to the point you'd know to turn to her if anything went even slightly off plan.

He hadn't felt as though he towered over her until now, and it was less that he felt tall, but more that he felt she was small and delicate and he was massive. He was taking up all the space- he felt as though he couldn't breathe, he had to be taking up all the air as well- and leaving none for her, for his mama.

She looked briefly disappointed, before she shook her head.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course you can. Is that why you knocked? Did you think-"

"I forgot my key," Matthew lied smoothly, and silently yelled at himself. He was here to be honest, and he started it by lying.

Charlotte stepped from the door frame, Matthew stepping in, finally letting go of James's hand.

"Where's papa? Downstairs?"

"No," His mother was still watching him, and only him. "He's in the sitting room."

"Good." He'd replied. "I need to talk to the both of you."

His mother nodded, only now looking away, starting her walk towards the sitting room Matthew was equally familiar with.

He was used to the soft neutrals of the furniture, the way it was both refined and regal, a part of him missed it. He missed his home.

And he missed his father, who sat in his chair, busy with something in his hands before he'd looked up and smiled at his wife. Then, noticing them, at his soon and his son's friend.

He barely let his mother sit down before he started talking.

"When I was in the academy there was a rumor about me. I didn't- or about our family. I- I didn't believe it, at first, but then I couldn't stop thinking about it." He hadn't even gotten to the real hard part yet, and still he could not look at either of his parents. "It was that I was a bastard. That Henry couldn't possibly be my papa. That it was Gideon Lightwood, instead."

"That's what you needed to discuss with us? Matthew. . . of course Henry's your father. Gideon is a friend-"

"No. I- that's not it. I know now that you're my papa," He looked directly at his father, the man he had once been so close to. He looked unconsciously to make sure his father was perfectly intact, still so used to taking care of him, and despite the distance felt himself relieved when he saw no new burns or cuts on his skin, his browning red hair wasn't even tinged. "And you are the best papa I could ever have. I am glad that it is you.

"I am not accusing either of you of mistakes, I am telling you of my own. I am asking for forgiveness."

He took a moment- he wanted to keep going, instead of leaving them wondering any longer.

He didn't know how to continue when all he could hear was his heart beat, all he could feel was the cardiac muscle slamming against his ribs and his lungs refusing to inflate.

James put his hand back on Matthew's, and he could breathe again.

"When I was a boy, I believed it. I did the unforgivable. I went to a shadow market, I was young and stupid and I was tricked. I'd thought I'd bought a truth potion. I never should've doubted for a moment who my father was, I never should've played with the faeries.

"I made the scones you always liked, mama. And I added some of it. I was going to hear the truth, I'd decided. But it was all a lie. I was a fool.

"I'd nearly killed you."

He took a moment before he said what was left, his head hanging low.

"And I did kill the baby. My sister.

"I'm sorry. I am so so so sorry." He felt like all of him was shaking, he probably was. His stomach was in his throat, almost literally. It was taking all of him not to vomit on the floor. He was trying to avoid crying, and wasn't entirely sure he was succeeding.

James's hand tightened on his own when neither of his parents spoke.

Matthew had known James was wrong. He had known that what he'd done was unforgivable. He'd let Cordelia convince him it wasn't. He'd let James.

"Matthew," he heard his mother, but he didn't look at her. "You've kept that to yourself this whole time?"

He didn't hear anger in her voice, though he was sure that's why she was asking. Because he'd known what he'd done and he'd let them love him.

"I know." He murmured. "I should've told you. I should've told you so you stopped loving me. I'm sorry, that I let you continue to after everything. I tried to get away, so that you'd stop-"

"No, Matthew." He was surprised, this time, when it was his father, sounding surprisingly clear. And there. "You should've told us so we could help you."

He hadn't meant to, but he looked up. He was shocked by how gentle his father sounded. The way he heard no anger from either of them.

He didn't see it, either. His mother's hand was tightly in her husband's. Both of their brown eyes were darkened just slightly by the shadows of their drawn in brows while they watched him.

"Help me?"

"Yes, Matthew. We could've helped you let go of this burden, earlier."

"I wouldn't have deserved that." He knew it was what he was asking for now, that he shouldn't he arguing against it.

"You did. You do. Matthew, you made a mistake. It would be a different story, if you had meant the harm you caused. But we know you hadn't meant it, we know you, Matthew. We know you never would've done it intentionally."

"And Matthew," he looked from his father, to his mother as she took over the conversation. "We lost you too. We lost our baby, but losing you was harder.

"We just want you back."

He looked between both of them, back and forth, even once looking towards James. "You forgive me?"

"We do." His mother nodded.

Matthew had stopped trying to keep his tears away, now. They poured down his face while he stayed on the opposite side of the room as his parents.

He felt small again. Young. He wanted his mother to hold him, he wanted her to stay in London instead of return to Idris. He remembered when he'd held her skirts so tightly as a small boy begging her not to leave and he had the urge to do it now.

"I've stopped drinking." He said instead. Instead of asking that they hold him or stay longer. He was grown now, and while he wasn't a fan of his brother, he was sure Charles had never fallen at their feet and begged them to love him.

"You have?" He heard a tone of happiness in his mother's voice.

"I have. I stopped- I stopped after Paris. I- I've been sober for- for a couple weeks. I'm trying."

"That's wonderful, Matthew!" His mother stood up from where she was sitting, gently separating her hand from Henry's, and walked towards him.

She wrapped her arms around him so tightly he let out a loud breath by accident, before he buried his head in her shoulder, and sobbed harder. He held her back just as tightly. Not letting her go for too long.

When finally he let her go she stepped just slightly back, before returning to her chair, and her husband.

"We have good news, too." Matthew watched him place her hand back with her husband's. "We're expecting another baby."

"You are?"

"We are. And we are very happy that you'll get your chance at being a big brother."

#jamie shut the fuck up #just vibing #personal blog #books #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #charlotte fairchild #henry fairchild #chain of thorns #fan fiction #fan fic #chain of thorns spoilers #chain of thorns fanfiction #matthew fairchild #james herondale #matthew gets forgivness #cot #cot spoilers #the infernal devices

[theladyofbloodshed]

I... I found a video from readwithcindy called "unboxing soap gate" (2018) and I've never been so dissapointed in the acotar fandom. I didn't know about the acotar sup box that happened in 2018 and apperantly there was this whole mess about the dick soap (it represents Rhys's dick 💀💀). Strangly, I'm more pissed about the fanfics and letters because it was being sold, which means someone got all the money of it. Also.. In that video cindy read a letter that is "from Azriel" to the acotar stan who bought that box and I cringed so hard. "I will fuck you soon- Azriel" BROOO 💀💀💀

Everyone can have fun and stuff and I know I shouldn't judge but.. cmon. Go to twitter and write "acotar soap dick" you'll see acotar stans warning others to not use the soap dick for your own pleasure, only to use it for bathing 😂

I have heard bits about soap dick gate. I think one of the big issues with the soap was the fact ACOTAR was marketed as YA at the time. And they sent out a dick in a box. Also, the soap had a SUCTION CUP on the end. However, the box's creator did flag the box as only suitable for those over 18 and stated that the book itself is marketed for YA despite the sex scenes. A lot of authors were not happy with fan fiction being sold in the box as it's illegal.

I think this is why SJM/Bloomsbury ensure that anybody making money off of her creation has to be officially licensed.

I have watched 2/3 of Cindy's videos where she reviews acotar and I find them so funny.

#i was just reading some of the author comments about the ff being sold #and somebody said it's like if they took HP characters and money from them #okay but wasn't 50 shades twilight FF #and the love hypothesis reylo fan fic #and cassandra clare wrote dramonie fiction #we are always inspired by others #and some ff writers do a better job than the actual writer #anon asks

[acciotwinz]

I finished Chain of Thorns and I am in denial that we will never see these characters again. I am in denial over who dies and all that has been left unsaid.

So, in order to fully live in ignorance, I am opening requests for The Last Hour characters!

PLEASE SEND ME MATTHEW REQUESTS

#PLEASE SEND ME MATTHEW FAIRCHILD REQUESTS #matthew fairchild x reader #matthew fairchild #Matthew Fairchild fics #the shadowhuter chronicles #shadowhunters fics #James Herondale x reader #jesse blackthorn #James Herondale #jesse blackthorn x reader #the last hours #the last hours fics #Matthew Fairchild fic #Matthew Fairchild fan fiction #Christopher Lightwood #Christopher Lightwood fics #in denial over Chain of Thorns #chain of thorns #Cassie clare #Cassandra Clare #jj writes #send in inspiration #send in Shadowhunter requests #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #alastair x thomas #jordelia #ghostwriter

[thetimetraveler24]

Okay so the Fearless Rune and the Ao3 logo look kind of similar and I’m not sure what to do with this information.

#shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles #shadowhunters tv #cassandra clare #fearless rune #runes #shadowhunter runes #archive of our own #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction

[fic-history]

Filing Off the Serial Numbers: Professionally Published FIcs

While texts that we might call fanfiction in the most basic sense of the term have been published in the past (think Wide Sargasso Sea), modern fanfictions have only started to go pro in the past few decades. Fanfiction authors will pull all their fic from the internet, change the character names and other ties to the source media, and publish their works as original fiction. This is a process known in the fannish community as “filing off the serial numbers,” and it’s generated a lot of controversy as more and more fan writers take their work to the professional publishing stage. In this iteration of Fic History, we’re going to explore three of the most well known professionally published fanfictions.

The Mortal Instruments

Cassandra Clare is a household name to any fantasy or YA fiction lover, but you may not know that she also used to be a household name in the Harry Potter fandom. Then writing as Cassandra Claire (peep the i), Clare was a Big Name Fan who was revered in fandom circles for writing The Draco Trilogy, among other fics, which helped to shape how the fandom characterized Draco. She pulled all of her fics from the internet prior to the publishing of City of Bones, but the name of the series that City of Bones belongs to, The Mortal Instruments, shares a name with a Ron/Ginny (yes, incest) fic Clare penned in 2004. 

I want to clarify that The Mortal Instruments is not officially a published fanfiction, but fans have noticed similarities between main characters Clary and Jace and Clare’s characterizations of Ginny and Draco, and a passage from one of her Draco fics appears verbatim in City of Bones, save for a few name edits. Due to the popularity of the series and Clare’s past as a fan writer, I chose to include the series here.

Fifty Shades of Grey

Starting in 2009, an author going by the screen name Snowqueens Icedragon began publishing a Twilight BDSM AU fic titled Master of the Universe. It was deleted from the internet in 2011, and in early 2012, Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James was published to international acclaim and revilement. These two texts are the same story by the same author. While Fifty Shades generated a lot of stir in the media for being a doctored fanfiction (something many people had never heard of before), it generated a lot of stir in fandom spaces for a few reasons. One, many beta readers had worked on the story when it was a fanfiction, and those readers received none of the profit (Jamison 2013). Two, the book was now essentially mainstream media’s only perception of fanfiction, and given that it was being heavily criticized for being a poorly written inaccurate (in terms of the BDSM stuff) smut-fest, it gave fanfiction a bad name. 

The After Series

The most notable and recent example of filing off the serial numbers I can think of is the After series by Anna Todd, known to the internet originally as Imaginator1D. You may know the series now as a best-selling set of novels featuring college students Tessa Young and Hardin Scott that received a set of movie adaptations starting in 2019, but the original iteration of After was a college AU that starred characters Tessa Young and Harry Styles of One Direction fame. Harry’s then bandmates were featured as friends and stepbrothers of Styles, while Tessa is an original character. The After series also received/receives a lot of flak from fannish communities for not being a very high quality example of fanfiction, as well as glorifying what many viewed as an abusive relationship between the two leads.

Publishing your fanfic is forever going to be a touchy subject in fannish communities. Some are completely fine with it, and some fans see it as the ultimate fan sin. As Anne Jamison wrote in Fic (see Bibliography page),

“The fan culture tenet that ‘thou shalt not profit from fanworks’ has been, depending on who you talk to, an almost sacred and inviolate, wholly necessary founding principle of fandom. To others within the same community, it’s only been a necessary evil.”

She also notes that the fact that the term fanfiction doesn’t have one solid definition, and doesn’t actually clarify how close the story is to the material it was based off of. This doesn’t even bring into question the ethical dilemma surrounding profiting off of a fic that beta readers worked on for no cost. All in all, filing off the serial numbers will always be hot button issue in fandom, and I’d love to hear what thoughts y’all might have on it!

Happy reading,

KP

Further Reading:

#mortal instruments #the mortal instruments #cassandra clare #anna todd #after #fifty shades of grey #50 shades of grey #e l james #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction history

[tandonshows]

Amy, Co-host of Book Talk for Book Tok, joins me on You Are What You Love (the podcast where guests talk about the piece of media that changed their lives) to discuss one of the biggest online to traditional publishing success stories, Cassandra Clare's The Mortal Instruments. 

We discuss how Amy discovered Cassandra Clare through her Harry Potter fan fiction, why Clare's publishing journey meant so much to Amy, and how the books changed our view of feminism and femininity. Tangents include whether haters have the right to put artists down, chasing the thrill of the young adult books that excited us in our teenage years, and why fan fiction can make you a better writer. 

You can listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podacsts.

#podcast #podcast recommendation #fandom #you are what you love #fan fiction #fan fic #spotify #ao3 #marissa tandon #tandon productions #city of bones #cassandra clare #the mortal instruments #simon lewis #jace herondale #clary fairchild #isabelle lightwood #clary fray #harry potter #draco malfoy

[linyve]

City of Bones by Cassandra Clare

New review of an old read

Title: City of Bones Series: The Mortal Instruments Author: Cassandra Clare Genre: YA Urban Fantasy Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books Publishing date: March 27, 2007 ISBN:9781416914280 Synopsis: Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray unexpectedly witnesses a murder committed by mysterious teenagers at a New York City club. As the body vanishes, Clary discovers a hidden world of Shadowhunters,…

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#book review #book reviews #Cassandra Clare #City of Bones #clichés #cringe-worthy #disappointing read #fan fiction #inconsistent narration #info-dumpy writing #juvenile #lacking depth #lacking originality #one-dimensional characters #unsatisfying #urban fantasy

[callowing]

I love reading fantasy books and getting to a point where I can definitely tell the author has been on some fan fiction sites.

#SJM definitely has read some fan fiction in her time #Holly Black for sure #Cassandra Clare CONFIRMED

[hitechlatte]

So apparently more books than I thought were actually fanfictions previously?!?!?

Was reading this article and this blew mind:

https://collider.com/successful-fan-fiction-books/#39-city-of-bones-39-2007-mdash-cassandra-clare

Makes me want to eventually write some more original stuff lol. Maybe once I'm through my current line up of fics I'll whip something up

#fanfiction #fanfic #creative writing #writing

[thevagabondexpress]

a mad scientist and an angry fanauthor v. the harmful myth of the cinnamon roll. or, some issues a tsc fan sees in tsc, pt. ii

"Alas, Christopher is far more at home with beakers and test tubes than he is with female company. Let's just hope he doesn't pitch poor Rosamund into the refreshment table." — James Herondale, Chain of Gold

Cinnamon roll. You know the term. You've heard it around. I don't know if it's still in use, maybe I'm dating myself with it. But you know what it means.

Think of someone sixteen years or older that you consider to be a cinnamon roll. Get a good picture of that person, fictional or real, in your head.

I was a cinnamon roll for a very long time. That's how my friends treated me, that's how my first girlfriend treated me, and it's even, in a few cases, a monicker they directly applied to me. And I hated it. It showed that they only cared to know me on this superficial level of "adorable baby too good and pure for this world." They didn't care about the less adorable, less innocent, less naïve, and definitely also a high school student and not a child who lay underneath the oversized spectacles, the choice to keep my business to myself (my school friends simply did not need to know what I read and wrote on AO3 or how foul my mouth could get if I wanted it to) and the long-standing hyperfixation. They didn't want to see about the parts of me that didn't fit their precious archetype.

Does this sound familiar?

Enter Christopher Lightwood. I can guarantee you this was his experience, except that never once do we get enough from his point of view in the series to let us actually see it. Maybe I'm just projecting here (because why wouldn't one project onto their fictional crush) but I had issues with the way Cassandra Clare wrote, framed, and treated Christopher long before his narrative's ending in Chain of Thorns. He was mistreated consistently by the narrative, by the society around him, and unconsciously by his own closest friends.

Think about it. He's consistently dismissed, even by those closest to him, as the cinnamon roll, the mad scientist, the one who's bad at social interaction, the one who's definitely not interested in romance, with no input from Christopher himself whatsoever at all to confirm or deny any of these stereotypes. He's constantly belittled, his friends and even his sister treat him like he's six, not sixteen (upon hearing of his death Charles calls him "Little Kit" as if the person in question wasn't two years away from being a legal adult). They seem to think he can't take care of himself just because he's absentminded, nobody ever tells him anything important (Thomas only realizes he should've told Christopher about Alastair once Christopher's gone), and any time he tries to step out of the "mad scientist" box his decisions are questioned and he's thrown right back in. Say what you will about Grace Blackthorn but she and Henry are the only people who actually get Christopher, who not only understand him but make attempts to understand him at more than a superficial level.

And because nobody's obviously outright hurting him and he doesn't have a deadbeat and/or abusive parent and he's pretty good at just keeping a cheerful face on about it because being angry and mean doesn't do anything but make a situation worse, you don't even realize it until you go back through and look for yourself. And I encourage you to look for yourself. I'm only the pastor, I ain't the Bible.

And guess what? Christopher Lightwood is also a textbook cinnamon roll.

Except he's not. There is no such thing as a cinnamon roll. They don't exist, no more than Santa Claus or Alexandria's Genesis. And that person you've just called a cinnamon roll? Yeah, they're gnashing their teeth, ready to scream.

The cinnamon roll is a myth. A harmful myth, one used primarily in three ways: by allo people against ace, aro, and aroace people, by neurotypical people against people with autism, adhd, and similarly-presenting neurodivergences, and by cis and binary trans people against nonbinary people, to infantalize them, to put them in a neatly definable category, and to keep them in that box where they have no power. As a person who is all three: a grey-asexual, nonbinary, and neurodivergent, it was a deeply hurtful label I couldn't escape.

Neither could Christopher.

And in the end, it killed him.

"some issues a tsc fan sees in tsc" is an attempt to break down the unacknowledged things in tsc that i unearthed reading chain of thorns, rereading the rest of the series in preparation for it, and writing two longform fanfics (one of them a genderbent canon reworking) for the last hours. click on the "some issues..." tag to see more of these.

#some issues a tsc fan sees in tsc #tlh #tsc #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #vent post #fan analysis #analyzing the last hours #christopher lightwood #asexuality #neurodivergence #fan essay #beautiful cinnamon roll too good for this world too pure

[luciehercndale]

A Different Kind of Music - Wessa

Set a few months after Will and Tessa get married. So let's say 1880-1881. They are deciding how to renovate the ballroom of the Institute, but things take a different turn when they get creative. ;) This was inspired by the amazing hot art by the talented @/thorndale/elisial_art on tumblr/Instagram <;3 Warning: Mature

“This room is such a mess,” Will glared at the windows, where long drapes of red velvet hung on by a literal thread. “First thing we’ll change are these curtains, I don’t like red,” he flinched, as if red offended him for some reason. 

Tessa could only smile as they paced the ballroom together. She couldn’t believe it. Just a few months ago, they said their vows and they sealed their union. She was Tessa Herondale now, and even though not everybody saw it the same way, it didn’t matter to her. Only Will mattered, and the future they intended to build together in this place, which needed a little redecoration, according to him.

Keep Reading on A03 💜

#tsc #tsc fan fiction #tsc fanfiction #wessa #will and tessa #will herondale #tessa gray #tid #the infernal devices #clockwork prince #clockwork princess #clockwork angel #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #tweety.writes

[zickmonkey]

Charlotte X Henry fic, COT spoilers

I don't know the word count but short, probably soon to be cross posted on AO3, description under cut.

Henry and Charlotte discuss their presumed dead son before Charlotte joins the shadowhunters in London.

.......

"Charlotte," Henry was looking up at her so intently, his brown eyes wide in his face. She was still so unused to having to look down to see him, her husband and her had always been such opposites when it came to their heights. He had been the tallest in the institute, she the shortest, even when the boys were still exactly that- boys.

"Perhaps you shouldn't go."

She looked at every wrinkle in his face, some of the creases deepening with the way he gazed at her. His thick eyebrows were drawn in, his lips were downturned.

"Henry. . . I know that you'd rather I stay safe, but I can't just remain here and have the others do the hard work for me." She brought her hand to his face, gently cupping his stubble lined cheek. "I'm the consul-"

"You're also a mother." He interrupted her. "Cecily is not going."

She felt his words through her entire body, though she didn't move her hand. She knew her husband was smart, she always had, but she also hoped that now his eccentricity would kick in, his tendency to be oblivious, and he would not realize that their son was almost certainly gone. She wished he'd instead say something about her going to get Matthew back, as though he were just optimistic.

"Christopher is dead. We know that. We don't know that Matthew is." She didn't say the rest- that maybe she could help get him back.

Charlotte also refused to look directly into her husbands eyes, worried she'd see hurt at how cold she'd said it. So unlike her. And over a boy they both cared for deeply.

"Lottie. . ." He brought his own hand up to hold hers, his index finger running gently along the back of it, blindly tracing the voyance rune they all knew without thought. "Matthew followed James to Edom, do not hurt yourself with delusions of him returning."

She could see as he spoke her young son, with the blond hair that made him look so out of place in their family, his green eyes. She wanted to be mad at the way he spoke with just a certainty that their son was gone, and that while he did it gently he did not do it with a sadness.

But she knew that was only because the sadness would come later. She knew him well. Henry would return to the main hall the second she left, he would be there to answer any questions anyone might have- however unlikely people were to ask him. There was a certain credit to being the consul's husband, more of one, when said consul was away and there was distrust about the inquisitor.

It was not that he didn't feel grief for Matthew- he was feeling that right along side his grief for Christopher, they both were. It was that his job now was to tell her to stay, to hurt openly beside him. And when that didn't work, like they both knew it wouldn't, to not hide from those who did stay.

"Even if Matthew is truly gone," She did meet his eyes again now, the brown of his irises seeming dulled while the whites of his eyes shone just slightly with tears he didn't fully release. "London might not be. And there are others to fight for. Lucie, Tom."

She didn't see Matthew when she looked at her husband, just as she knew she wouldn't see him if she looked in a mirror. But she could see all the times Matthew had followed after his father. The times he'd take Henry for walks and they'd talk. When she'd go into his laboratory late at night to retrieve her husband only to find him accompanied by a ten year old who should've long been in bed.

She saw memory after memory of Henry and Matthew together.

Charlotte loved both of her sons equally, she always had, but still she knew Matthew had always been more his son than hers.

#fan fic #fan fiction #cassandra clare #the shadowhunter chronicles #shadowhunters #the last hours #the last hours spoilers #tlh spoilers #tlh fanfic #chain of thorns spoilers #chain of thorns #cot #charlotte fairchild #henry fairchild #matthew fairchild #cecily herondale #christopher lightwood #cecily lightwood #one shot

[sudaca-swag]

cassandra clare plagió contenido de fan fiction de hp. ahre no leas nada que escribió esa conchuda.

I DONT CARE I DONT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT HOMELESS PEOPLE ahre no, perdonen chicos pero estoy leyendo el universo de cazadores de sombras desde hace 12 años y pienso terminar todos los libros que saque, no soy perfecta ✊🏼✊🏼

[patricia-von-arundel]

What is booktok?

Idiots on Tiktok who push garbage books into multiple slots on bestseller lists and then shove books actually worth reading in alongside them, so that someone who unfortunately tries the former first will never give the latter a chance. It's also a place where publishers are more than happy to gain free publicity for their authors - not because of any effort on their part, but rather, expected (and uncompensated) effort of the authors themselves. Authors are not influencers, or, often, particularly polished at all in visual/auditory presentation. Instead of letting the book speak for itself, it's pushing authors to sell an image. And then who gets attention? The Alex Asters of the world: young, attractive, and selling their story (in Aster's case, apparently a fictional one), not the book's. This is not new (see: book tours, or Oprah's book club and A Million Little Pieces), but it's ramping up in ways I find ridiculous - and potentially harmful for authors who can't or won't play this game. Who buys a book because the author is pretty? (Idiots. The answer is idiots.)

Booktok makes the bullshit bad-fanfiction-to-bad-novels of Cassandra Clare and EL James look like publishing blips. Hell, it makes me hate something more than I hate James Patterson. 😅

There's nothing wrong with pushing books you loved through social media. There's nothing wrong with authors having social media to interact with fans. (I love that they do that!) There is something wrong when it becomes a game of pretty faces and manufactured backstories, with little or no expectation of literary quality or even of minimal talent. Or if it becomes expecting authors to have social media (or insisting they do!) if they want their writing to have any chance at all while Tiktok drools over the latest Colleen Hoover garbage.

[lovecrafts-iranon]

Here are some of my thoughts on the authors I am insane about. Some of them I think are good, some of them I think are bad, some of them I haven't even read! It's more like "how do these people (especially the way others talk about them) factor into my personal mythology" and less "do these people write good books." To explain this better I will start with the one I can explain most precisely and write plenty of words on, Cassandra Clare/Claire.

Cassandra Claire

Cassandra Claire was the biggest Big Name Fan in the Harry Potter fandom and used her fandom success to become a bestselling YA novelist. I have read all of her fanfiction and a few of her YA books. The first book of her famous fanfiction and the first book of her first YA series are both passable as average adventure stories with bloated romance subplots, but after that they balloon in size and become entirely focused on boring romantic drama. So I don't like her work but it's not like she's the worst author ever. In her fandom days, she had several scandals, the biggest being that she plagiarized both funny TV quotes and paragraphs from a published book in her fics.

The way people reacted to her was what fascinated me so much. Her fans called her a Goddess. People were having late night group chat release parties for new chapters. If you go to any Harry Potter fan's LiveJournal around the time she was big, there was a mention of her. The hype was so big. I had before dismissed fanfiction as the kind of thing I would ever write, but when I saw records of Claire, I desperately wanted the kind of attention she had. Wanting her fame was the reason I started writing fanfiction. I read her fics and her drama and thought I could do even better than her. I would be just as popular but never plagiarize, so I would be even more popular. And my stories wouldn't be boring romance crap, so even more people would want to read them.

Isaac Asimov

So Isaac Asimov is the original and eternal "guy I want to be" (when it comes to writing. I hear he was a creep in his personal life but that's not what this is about. Whenever I talk about him here I'm just talking about him as a writer). He's the king of science fiction. I can always pick up a book by him and know it's going to be good. If you think about who the archetypal science fiction writer is, his name pops up first. And that's what I want! I want my name to pop up first in people's minds! That's the biggest dream since forever. For my name to pop up first. Whenever I read his writing, I thought, this is so good, and at the same time I had a deep feeling that someday I wanted people to feel the same way about my writing that I did about his. (And of course there's always the little I-can-do-better voice saying well he wasted his time on having a wife and kids while I would be fully married to the job...) I want to be him more than anything. I would be willing to spend all my time for decades to be like him. Well, if I could. I used to think I was good enough to be him. Once I got proof I was not good enough, my life has been years of nonstop misery. Mourning, really, over the me-as-Isaac-Asimov who died.

Henry Darger

If Asimov is the God figure in my mind then Darger is the devil. He's the worst type of person to become (as an author) and the person I am constantly terrified of being. Putting all that effort in, millions of words, for nothing. The writing equivalent of digging holes and filling them back in using all of your time for the rest of your life. A writing void. A writing black hole. Nobody will ever call Darger a great writer or even say his writing improved with practice. They will only say he was an interesting feller. That's not what I want to be, that's not enough! And there are so very many of him. Sort any amateur writing site (such as a fanfiction site) by word count and you'll find plenty with no audience. You can find a lot of Darger works by going on the TV Tropes forums and clicking the links in people's signatures. It's horrifying the amount of effort sustained over a lifetime these people put in only for zero fame. It looks worse than death to me. Becoming a Darger is a big reason I want to kill myself, though so far I have been too cowardly.

Vladimir Nabokov

I like writing and chess and bugs. So did Nabokov. Only he was way better than me at all three. It's just weird to me he was into the same things. His success and my failure at the exact same stuff shows that a general ability to succeed at things (we can call this intelligence) exists and I do not have it.

H P Lovecraft

He was really crazy. Sometimes I think there's a cutoff. A certain amount of crazy you can be and still end up writing things others end up enjoying. And beyond the cutoff you become a Darger. Lovecraft exists just before that cutoff. And I'm after the cutoff. I used to think of Lovecraft as kind of inspirational as a crazy person but not anymore.

Ken Liu

Ok I'm not that crazy about Ken Liu. But his name makes me sad whenever I see it. I loved reading his short storied in high school and I always fantasized about telling him in person as a peer. I wanted to be in the same general group as him. We could be friends because we would both be successful science fiction writers, you know?