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#grace blackthorn
anglesherondale · an hour ago
The Last Hours girls as Tea ☕️
How I’d like to imagine they have their tea;
Cordelia Carstairs
Golden with daisies; warm and soul-soothing ✨
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Lucie Herondale
Gorgeous with lots of flowers, both delicate and strong 🌸
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Grace Blackthorn
Classical and elegant; in appearance and in taste 🤍
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Anna Lightwood
Divine goddess energy in a cup 🌹
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Kamala (Ariadne) Bridgestock
Beautiful and cosy; the -let’s spend Sunday in bed- tea ✨
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(Images from Pinterest)
Which one are you? 🤍✨☕️
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brightwoods · 7 hours ago
I know I still have asks to answer and I will when I’m around again, but for now I’m just here to shitpost quickly before bed because this sound has been stuck in my head all day
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axoloteca · 8 hours ago
***For a better experience listen “Confrontation” by Anthony Warlow.
"Jesse, Please!" Lucie screamed as the boy who had previously protected her in the dark nights ran into the darkness itself.
"No, no Lucie, get away from me." He hissed her while with the sword with the pattern of thorns he increased the distance between them and she had to back away. The strength he now possessed thanks to the runes would prevent her from stopping him and now she no longer had the power to command him.
"I won´t go, ever!" tears welled up in Lucie's eyes. "Please don´t leave me." Lucie reached out her hand over Jesse's pale body, but he pulled away from her.
"What do you not see? I'm a danger to you, How are you sure you're talking to me? How do you know that at night I will not have your neck in my hands, that I am capable of killing- ” he whispered her and hiding his eerie green eyes with the mop of dark hair on his face. "He will come back, he will."
"My father- he will come, he will help us." Trying to close the distance between them, she cautiously advanced as if he were a scared cat, she had never been so terrified in her entire life. "Also Cordelia with Corta-"
A throaty laugh came from him "The one Lilith controls, It´s impossible."
Now she had to turn back from him because wielding the sword he approached her and with his hand that held the scar of his existence, he placed it carefully on her burning cheek covered by her tears.
"Mizpah, Lucie Ella Herondale." He whispered, closing his eyes as his tears finally spilled down his eyelids.
She remembered the words from a passage that she had taught him thanks to her mother "And Mizpah, for he said, the Lord watch between me and thee when we are absent one from another."
And as the sun set behind the Cornwall mountains he walked into the woods, Lucie lying on the ground stopped hearing the footsteps on the grass and the night silenced everything around her.
"Somebody help me, please!" Lucie knelt down with her hands on one chest and made a small, broken crying sound.
 He ran until he had no more air in his lungs, his strength was exhausted and he did not possess a stele to increase it. Hours had passed since he entered the forest, there was only darkness. But a light from the lake attracted him, the moon. The single ray of it was reflected in the calm waters and the fireflies joined to illuminate the chilling night.
Getting a little closer, Jesse watched his reflection in the lake. He could only see a pale-skinned boy, his eyes consumed by sleepless nights after knowing what had happened. After seeing the runes on his skin, he felt the world collapse again, it was like what happened seven years ago, only now he carried someone else's life. His mother gave him up, he was a danger to Lucie and his sister, and he never knew who he really was and if everything he thought belonged to him or was influenced by someone else, after all he was HIS anchor.
"It's over now I know inside," he mused. "No one will ever know, the sorry tale of Jesse Blackthorn and those who died." He grabbed at the collar of his shirt, he was drowning. "No one must ever know."
If the Clave found out about everything that happened and if Lucie was still by his side, then he would condemn her. He felt his heart beat painfully.
“They'd only see the tragedy. They'd not see my intent. The shadow of Belial's evil would forever kill the good that I had meant.” The voice was a harsh whisper, how could he have believed that he would become a shadowhunter one day? That he could still harbor hope. He had wanted it so badly that he was blinded, and now he was here, reborn and ashamed, staring into the darkness.
"Am I a good man? Am I a mad man?" He got up from the wet grass. "It's such a fine line between a good man and a-" Jesse hesitated. Those lives he had taken, he had always been a pawn.
Sudeenly a voice slowly began to resonate loudly around him, around the forest.
“Do you really think that I would ever let you go? Do you think I'd ever set you free? If you do I'm sad to say It simply isn't so, You will never get away from me!" The voice scoffed.
The outline of his reflection became more blurred with each second of observation, the eyes of the reflection seemed to change from green to dark, he had a white suit spattered with blood and a fierce smile like that of the Cheshire cat appeared across his face ... With a slap Jesse stirred the waters. It was like he was in a dream, he couldn't stop himself.
“All that you are is a face in the mirror! I close my eyes and you'll disappear!" Jesse said.
“I'm what you face when you face in the mirror! Long as you live, I will still be here!" replied his reflection smiling.
“All that you are is the end of a nightmare! All that you are is a dying scream! After tonight, I shall end this demon dream!" He exclaimed, shook his head and thinking about what would happen next he turned his back in the direction of his chest.
 Unexpectedlly hands fell on Jesse's shoulder, his reflection was no longer in the lake, but a figure of flesh and blood just like him, he raised his eyes and met the icy depths of Belial's gaze.
"This is not a dream, my friend and it will never end!" Belial shook his head savagely. “This one is the nightmare that goes on! Belial is here to stay! No matter what you may pretend and he'll flourish, long after you're gone! "
Belial chuckled.
“Soon you will die, and my memory will hide you! You cannot choose but to lose control! " Screamed Jesse shuddering and staggering back a step.
“You can't control me! I live deep inside you! Each day you'll feel me devour your soul!" Belial said defiantly.
“I don't need you to survive, like you need me! I'll become whole as you dance with death!" Jesse said flatly. "And I'll rejoice as you breath your final breath!" He threw himself at Belial.
But everyone turned and Jesse's body was immobilized on the ground by a leg that was held on his chest, the sword had gone flying and was swinging between the lake and the shore.
"I'll live inside you forever!" Belial yelled heading over to Jesse, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"No!" Jesse echoed in disbelief. It couldn't be true, he wouldn't allow it to be true.
"With satan himself by my side!" Belial's eyes twinkled accompanied by a crooked smile.
"No!" yelled the boy. In one nimble move Jesse rose to his feet and Belial dropped to one knee, reaching for the sword and gripping the hilt so hard it was burning his palms.
“And I know that now and forever. They'll never be able to separate Jesse from Belial!" He contained an expression half fury, half amusement.
“Can't you see It's over now? It's time to die!" Jesse roared.
"No not I! Only you!" Belial laughed, his green gaze fixed on him.
"If I die You die, too!" Jesse charged at Belial, leaping through the grass, but Belial jumped away fast enough.
"You'll die in me. I'll be you!" Belial spread his hands with a feline lopsided smile.
The single sentence shook Jesse to the ground. Something in him rebelled.
“Damn you Belial! Leave me be!" Jesse demanded.
"Can't you see? You are me" Belial said shrugging his shoulders with fiery green eyes.
"No! Deep inside-“ He should attack Jesse thought, he should pounce on Belial but he raised his left hand and pointed at Jesse's heart.
"I am you! You are Belial!" Belial raised his furious eyes and laughed mercilessly.
"No - never!" Jesse stared at Belial with a flat, desperate gaze, pulling away from him.
"Yes, forever!" Belial cracked his icy smile, regaining his old nonchalance.
"God damn you, Belial! Take all your evil deeds And rot in hell!" Jesse raised his sword, in those moments he was the young Nephilim warrior he always wanted to be with the sword shining in the moonlight.
"I'll see you there, Jesse!" His voice rose, broken. Belial widening Jesse's green eyes in horror and spasm, his body leaning back.
"Never!" Jesse shot Belial one last incredulous look before pointing the Blackthorn sword at his chest, the point of the sword splitting the fabric of his shirt collar and hot blood gushed out, it was like wildfire.
 There was not a sound, no more responses. Just a glint of light, the sky responded.
 "Jesse." He heard Lucie say.
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@queenmollixofshadows @nc-scketch @666-notsatan @ohcoolnice @runeless-parabatai @cordaisya @lucie-blackthorns @livvyheronstairs @rinadragomir​ @delilahssbard​ if u want to be added/removed to the tag list please send me DM and I´ll be grateful!
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cordelia-cardale · 13 hours ago
The prompt number 16 is quite interesting lol 16. “Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” Choose the ship/character you like :)
Hello! Ok, there are literally zero reasons as to why it took me a year to write this bloody thing except maybe that I had some not fun moments and also this literally never could have been written if I hadn’t waited this long. I don’t know if you’ll read it. You’ve probably forgotten about this in all fairness but if you do read it I hope you like it. 
Also taking this opportunity to thank everyone for following me. I’m at 400 followers! This is insane. I’m not sure why you’re all following tbh but to celebrate I forced myself to finish this long overdue fic, hope you like it! Also disclaimer: I love all of the characters from TLH. I am aware of the existing debate around Matthew and Alastair and my writing in here does not represent my point of view. But I I decided to represent Matthew and his view in this way for story telling purpose. Please don’t come at me with gun blazing. If you do wanna talk, we can, but in peace 😊💕
Somewhere Where Our Shadows Meet, It Feels Like Coming Home - 
a Fairdale one-shot (is that even their brotp name???) 
This was the fifth time James was rereading the passage of the book he had picked up. It was no use. Each time he finished the page he had already forgotten the beginning. His mind was foggy with a multitude of thoughts. Thoughts about Lucie and her strange dalliance with a boy who used to be a ghost, about Grace which inevitably led to unsolicited questions on his own identity, and, as much as he tried not to think about it, thoughts of Matthew and Cordelia. He really did not enjoy these last kinds of thoughts. He couldn’t help but imagine what kind of relationship could have blossomed between the two during their trip to Paris. He knew how Matthew felt, but when it came to Cordelia, he had no single clue. He constantly wondered as to whether she hated or loved him. Daring to hope that he hadn’t ruined everything. Just for that hope to vanish the next second because there was no possible way he did not ruin it. And even if ever decided to ask her, he would have no idea how to approach the topic without sounding like an arrogant bastard.  
James let out a long breath, rolling his shoulders, trying to let go of the tension. He was pretty sure that if he ventured to look at himself in the mirror that was hung above the chimney, he would see huge dark circles beneath his eyes. Circles which color could rival the color of London’s night sky. A result of many nights plagued by bad dreams and worry. During some of those sleepless nights, James had gone to Cordelia’s room. The first time it was under the pretext of looking for books. Her room had been full of her personal belongings. A bottle of perfume on her vanity table, an evening dress carefully laid out on the chaise longue, a copy of Majun and Layla on her bedside table. So many little pieces of who Cordelia was scattered in a room she had run away from. She hadn’t been back to Curzon street since that night. Upon arriving in London, she had decided to move back with her mother using the excuse of the soon-to-be new baby’s arrival. James kept going to her home though, eventually admitting to himself that he did so because of the smell of Jasmin that lingered. It was the closest thing he had to a semblance of her presence in the house. It was a soft smell that grounded him. It was also a heady smell that reminded him of the sweetness he had lost.
He shook himself out of thoughts of her. Something he had gotten quite good at to be fair, considering how many times he thought of her in the span of a day. Pushing himself up from the table he was leaning against, he closed the book he was reading, giving up on understanding it, and made his way to the window. Outside the sky was tinged in pastel colors drawing the day to a close. James would slowly make his way back home. He would rehash the day, come up with new plans to wake his sister from her deep sleep, find out that these plans would fail again come morning, and finally decide that he would need to eat a bite because going to bed with an empty stomach was just not advisable. His parents had offered for him to stay at the Institute with them but James had refused. He preferred the calm and silence of Curzon Street. He found that the bittersweet cloak that covered his house was, in some ways, almost reassuring. Maybe he was going insane. Just when he was ready to go bid his goodnight to his family, he heard the doors of the library open wide behind him and slammed shut again.
“Did you know?” Matthew growled. James might have thought that he himself had gone slightly deranged chasing down the smell of Jasmin throughout his home, but at least he did not look half as unhinged as Matthew looked right this instant. Matthew’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, and his fist clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white.
“Are you alright?” James asked, keeping an even tone.
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
Matthew took a few strides in James’ direction. His stare holding James’ gaze in place as if daring James to contrary him. “Did you know about Thomas?”
“Um yes,” James nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I do know Thomas.” At that Matthew narrowed his eyes and almost seemed as if he was trying hard not to grind his teeth. Noted. Attempts at humor and alleviating the situation were not going to work. “What about him?” James tried again. His smile replaced by a serious gaze.
“Did you know about Alastair?” Matthew asked, almost spatting out Alastair’s name.
James took a few steps back, reinstating the much-needed personal space for such a conversation. James did know about Alastair, but only because Thomas had looked so miserable and James had pried so insistently that Thomas had had no choice but to give up his well-kept secret. James had understood, sometimes you couldn’t choose who you fell in love with. Sometimes you fell in love with something that only you saw in the other person. Love was usually shrouded in mystery this way, best not to question how it worked. Obviously, by the look of things, Matthew did not agree.
“Please sit down,” James pointed to one of the green velvet armchairs. “I’ll pour you a drink.” James said, making his way to the stash of liquor in one of the dark wooden commodes. James had always wondered what kind of people, for what kind of situation kept alcohol in the library of all rooms. It always seemed to him that a secret stash of tea would have been more appropriate. Now he understood what kind of situation required people to put alcohol in every room, even if it was just one abandoned bottle of Parkmore. “Is Whiskey alright?” James turned his head in Matthew’s direction.
“So you knew?” Matthew answered, seemingly in a staring competition with the mustard yellow wallpaper in front of him. “He told you?”
Whiskey it would be for a total lack of all other present choices James thought as he started to pour a glass.
Matthew kept going on his verbal onslaught towards the wallpaper. In all fairness mustard yellow was a color that could potentially enrage everyone. “How can he? It’s Alastair that we are talking about. It’s not as if there wasn’t any other man in London that Thomas couldn’t have a fling for.”
James very much doubted that a fling could start to describe Thomas’s feelings for Alastair. However, seeing how Matthew was nearly spitting out every single one of his words, he thought it safer not to share this piece of information.
“Matthew, please calm down and control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” James handed the glass to Matthew, which he waved away.
“No, thank you. I don’t drink.”
James squinted. “Since when?”
“Since Paris.”
James couldn’t help but feel a pinch in his chest at the mention of Paris. Paris city of lights, city of lovers. An escape his friend had taken with the only girl James had ever, truly, loved since he was barely old enough to understand the concept. It was a wondrous thing how much pain a single word could hold.
“What a strange place to decide to stop drinking.” James took a sip of the honey-colored liquid, trying to hide his hurt to the best of his ability.
“Cordelia asked me to. That was her condition for coming with me.”
James did not want to go in the general direction of a conversation that involved Cordelia. Especially not if that conversation was with Matthew. He had written a letter. James had understood. He slightly had the urge to strangle his best friend for going with her; for loving her; he did not quite know. But that was it. They hadn’t spoken of Paris nor of Cordelia together and that was for the best. Neutral conversations were for the best, they could avoid the hurt and the blame, and if James let it come to that again who knew what would be next. Yet he couldn’t help but ask.
“Why did you leave?”
Matthew turned to James, his anger receding ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” A beat, a choice to either keep going or retreat before it is too late. A beat, a choice to see where this could go “why did you go to Paris?”
“You owe me an answer first. Did you know about Alastair?”
“How could you not tell me?”
“You weren’t here Matthew.” James’ voice almost broke, almost. “How was I supposed to tell you anything?”
James had wanted to throw so much more at Matthew’s face. Throw words that he wouldn’t be able to take back. He had been feeling so alone. So utterly lost after Grace’s admission. After Cordelia’s departure. He had needed his best friend. He had wanted to tell him so much, to figure it all out with him. To have Matthew hold him at times when he didn’t know if he could hold it up together and tell him, simply, that he believed in him. But Matthew hadn’t been in London. He had been in Paris. Happy. With Cordelia.
“And you accept it?” Matthew asked, carefully studying James.
“I guess it depends on what we are talking about. In any case,” James turned away from the fireplace to look at his friend. “why are you so against it if it makes Thomas happy?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because Alastair doesn’t deserve to be loved?”
“Maybe it is more about deserving a second chance rather than deserving of love. Maybe it is about getting a chance to fix your mistakes. Surely no one is worthless of that.”
“Sometimes the mistakes are too big to fix.” Matthew shrugged, breaking eye contact.
“Is that why you ran away?” The question was asked so softly as if asked any louder and James would be terrified to see Matthew run away again. James wasn’t sure he could bear it, no matter how much frustration towards Matthew he still felt.  
“I didn’t run.” Matthew shook his head. His gaze far and distant as if in another land, in a shadow realm. “I took a train, there’s a difference. And I left because of Cordelia.”
James had an inkling he hadn’t left because of Cordelia but rather Cordelia had followed in a desperate pursuit to drown both of their sorrows in the glamour of a city like Paris. After all, Paris was so similar to Matthew, it was no wonder he had chosen it. At the surface, both were golden and shining like a polished jewel box. Once that jewel box was open, however, shadows, pain, and sadness would pour out like a damn breaking loose.
“I never thought you’d try to run away from me.” James knelt in front of Matthew, his knees landing on the soft midnight blue carpet. “That one day, I’d become a part of the shadows that you try to outrun.”
Matthew turned around so fast and reached for James’ face. His green eyes were darker than usual. “You’re not my shadows, Jamie Bach. You’re my home. You are the reason why I still believe I’m worth being forgiven for.” He said those words like a damned man dying for a confession, following blindly a faith he held so dear to his heart, hoping that that faith could be his saving grace. James understood that he had become that faith.
“Forgiven for what?” James asked.  
“I can’t tell you.”
“It’s me, Matthew. What is so bad that you cannot tell me?”
“I can’t tell you because I’m afraid. I need you to stay with me. I need you to believe that I am good, even if it means that you believe in a lie.”
“Matthew …”
“If you keep choosing me and believing in me,” Matthew interrupted. If he couldn’t finish now, he never would. “then maybe I can believe that I am no monster.”
“You are not a monster, you are my parabatai.”
James felt like they were back on that bridge, at night, so close to being let in in Matthew’s secrets. Back then James hadn’t been in control of himself, he hadn’t known what was happening to him. He had lost his chance. It would not happen again. It could not happen again. James was so tired of walking a frayed rope line with Matthew, guessing at hinted truths. Being someone’s constant north took work and time and effort but because it was Matthew, James could do it. He would always do it and he needed Matthew to know that as clearly as they both knew that one day would come when they would both cross the other side together. Because after all, that was what it had always been about. Despite shadows and lies and deceptions and miscommunication, they would always be together. So James continued.  
“Do you know what that means? It means that I made a promise to you. I said entreat me not to leave thee, for wither thou goest, I will go. If aught but death part thee and me. I will not leave. No matter what you’ve done, I will stand by you, because that is the choice that I have made. That I still make. There is not a thing in this world that you could have done that would make me stop loving you, calon fy enaid.”
Matthew looked up at James and teased “Does that mean that you accept my feelings for Cordelia?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I must say, I don’t think I’m her type. It’s a pity, really.” Some strands of Matthew’s hair fell in his eyes as he shook his head. James could see the old Matthew again. The carefree one that balanced out his own shadows so well. The one he would choose and forgive a thousand times over because he too was his home.
“All right, all right.” Matthew threw his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. “I just … wish you could promise that I would not lose you.”
“I promise.”
“You can’t promise something you don’t know.” Matthew said before he started to talk about his own misbeliefs that had led to a terrible accident. James listened and did not judge and stayed long in the night after Matthew had said everything that had weighted so heavy on his heart for so long. And somewhere, under the warm light of oil lamps and next to a warm fire, the frayed rope between the two started to mend and James could only describe the feeling as one of coming home.  
Tag List: @lady-ofroses @clockworknights @the-axewielding-herondale @tess-the-dreamer @coloandreablog
Do let me know if you want to be on the tag list and I’ll happily add you! (I have a tag list now visibly, wild and mind-blown) I will try to post more now that my exams are somewhat done. Who am I kidding? There will always be more stuff to do XD
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axoloteca · 15 hours ago
Will: I hated the Lightwoods and my sister married one
Jem: I get it
Will: I hated Tatiana and my son was after her adoptive daughter
Jem: Dude, but that didn't go any further
Will: I know, but what I didn´t expect
Jem: Oh no
Will: It's that my daughter married Tatiana's son!
Jem: But...
Will: Grandson of Benedict Ligthworm!
Jem: *speechless*
Will: The last thing I need someone of my grandchildren to marry a Bridgestock!
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belle-keys · a day ago
On Grace's Character Development
I always see those "which TLH character are you most like" posts on different platforms, and whenever I think about it, I try to envision the traits of the characters, right, in order to see who I'm most like, and it hit me that with Grace, we don't know any of her personality besides what we've seen of her when she was with Christopher in that one scene.
Like throughout the story we don't get much of Grace's personality, ya feel, we get glimpses of her trauma, her backstory and her emotions, but we never really get to know what she's like and how she behaves under normal circumstances cus she's always on a mission to do Grace Things. Tatiana claims that Grace is a blade but it seems to me that she's actually a pawn. Like, Jesse is snarky and passionate and selfless and he's dead, but what can we say of Grace's character? She's not actually a sly or malicious person like my girl is in cages by her hands of those with power around her and she's been given no autonomy at all, BUT, when she's with Christopher, it's only then we get actual personality traits: curious, ambitious, really clever, innovative, smart smart, etc.
All this to say it makes me so sad that Grace was forced by her evil mother and a demon to be a caricature of a femme fatale but it also makes me soft knowing that we're gonna get the development of her character and see her blossom alongside Christopher (who is our unproblematic bean!). Like the narrative and the other characters themselves moulded her into a one-dimensional person, a walking epithet, The Seductress if you will, but now we're getting a glimpse into the fact that she's a multidimensional person that doesn't actually spend all day being an Edwardian incarnation of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct.
This is the girl that was inspired by Estella. Grace deserves better!
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nefilim1975world · a day ago
La traición y el dolor son hechos de la vida.
Cadena de hierro – Cassandra Clare.
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edwardianbookwhore · a day ago
ive been OBSESSED with reading about the circle lately.
i read tmi like 6ish years ago and i don’t really remember anything that happened so it feels like completely new information to me.
the circle situation feels like 9 grace situations, where 9 young shadowhunters were manipulated into doing some bad stuff and the question that kinda looms over it is “do they deserve redemption?”
id love something set in the circle, maybe a novella collection? where each novella is a different member of the circle and how they were manipulated by valentine. i know there was a graphic novel series planned that got cancelled but I’d love to see something replace that.
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chlo-tk · a day ago
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Here’s the finished set of TLH characters! I know you’ve seen all of these drawings before but i thought it’d be fun to put it all together. I hope you like it!
Tap for better quality.
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lightwoodmiau · a day ago
Petition for splitting Chain of Thorns into two books. I know, it’s usually a movie thing, but no way CC can fit all the content we need into one book:)
(And I love Cordelia and James. But they already had so much page time, I want the others to shine:))
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anglesherondale · a day ago
James’ last dream before he wears the Gracelet, is of Cordelia
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James’ first dream after he’s taken off the gracelet for the first time, is of Cordelia
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— @anglesherondale
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merry-thieves · 2 days ago
I’m honestly a bit afraid that Grace will be on the Cover of Chain of Thorns and not James just because it would be easier to do... 
And I just really want James on the cover (also he is basically the second protagonist in this story and while Grace isn't unimportant she isn’t a main-main character)
I’m back btw
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If I can't have you...
I don't want anyone: James Herondale, Jesse Blackthorn
That's okay: Thomas Lightwood, Cordelia Carstairs
No one can: Grace Blackthorn
That's alright, but you have no idea what you are missing out on: Matthew Fairchild, Lucie Herondale, Anna Lightwood
I'll just sleep with your brother: Charles Fairchild
Bitch who the hell said I wanted you in the first place: Alistair Carstairs, Christopher Lightwood
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carstairs-hopelessly · 2 days ago
Just saw two people cosplaying as human Wall-E and EVE and I thought it was a Christopher Lightwood and Grace Blackthorn cosplay 🤭
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fictionally-fantastic · 3 days ago
Ooh, Grace Blackthorn for the character thing, please
| who? | HATE them | not a fan | don’t care about them | they’re okay | I like them a lot | LOVE them | OBSESSED! BE MY FRIEND! MY PRECIOUS BABY! | 10/10 would bang |
Who I ship them with: christopher (but like... ok they’re in a queerplatonic relationship okay)
Who I ship them with friend wise: alastair and eugenia !
If we’d be: | enemies | nothing | friends | dating | married |
send me a character!
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fictionally-fantastic · 3 days ago
tlh as elle woods gifs bc i watched legally blonde again and remembered how much i love her
cordelia wounding belial in chog:
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grace at the end of coi, probably:
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lucie deciding she’s going to be a writer even tho she’s a shadowhunter:
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alastair @ tmt:
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thomas at the end of coi:
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cordelia hearing james say ‘thank god’:
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cordelia when lilith revealed herself:
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deadinsidegal · 3 days ago
Looking back on the names of all Cassie's series, I think it's obvious as to why. The Infernal Devices focused on what the devices where, the Mortal Instruments focused on the aforementioned mortal instruments, we know what the Eldest Curses are, and we know what makes up the The Dark Artifices, but what makes me so interested is The Last Hours, we don't know what these are. My theory is that the whole trilogy happens because of what happened in the last hours of Jesse's life. So far, I think that there is a long game over this for Tatiana and Belial, with Grace and the bracelet and James, and Belial's anchor in Jesse. I definitely think that what happened in the last hours of Jesse's life will become more apparent in Chain of Thorns. What are other people's theories?
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