#livvy is still alive because there's no sadness in this house

[gay-otlc]

Jealousy: Sokeefitz oneshot

So... uh... I posted about the Sokeefitz oneshot I was writing a while ago? Well, now it’s finished. Unedited because I’m lazy.

Even as an Empath, jealousy was a difficult emotion for Keefe to describe. Maybe even more difficult than love. Love was easy to describe; the feeling of huddling around a campfire after nearly freezing, a laugh that you wish you could listen to forever, being unable to tear your eyes away from their smile because it's brighter and more beautiful than anything you've ever seen. Love was being in someone's arms and knowing you're safe, it was feeling like you're separated by inches when really you're oceans apart. It was the knowledge that, when you're with them, there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

Love was a feeling Keefe knew well. It was what felt like sunlight every time he sees their faces, and what the canvas showed every time he went to paint with them in mind. It's what kept him going through the days when Lord Cassius called him worthless and he agreed. More than anything, he wished it was what they felt in return.

And that's where jealousy came in.

Jealousy was fire, but not with the comfortable warmth love had. It was hotter than everblaze and just as unpleasant, ready to consume Keefe and burn him until nothing remained, just a pile of ashes that still wished for love he was never going to get. Beyond the concept of fire, Keefe had no words to describe jealousy, though it's a feeling he was well acquainted with. Keefe was no stranger to jealousy, and tonight, sipping lushberry juice at Fitz's Winnowing Gala and watching him twirl Sophie around as they talked and laughed too softly for Keefe to hear and looked utterly, beautifully, sickeningly in love, as they had been for at least the last hour, jealousy was especially prominent.

It was the only thing he could feel. Keefe wasn't even entirely convinced he was an elf anymore. Maybe he was just an entity consisting entirely of envy.

He'd been so happy when he received the invitation to Fitz's Winnowing Gala, so stupidly happy. He must have looked like a fool, holding that piece of paper like it contained all the secrets to the universe, like it was the most valuable thing he'd ever received. The moment was something he now looked back on with something between a smile and a grimace. A smile, because his sheer euphoria in that moment was nearly contagious, dancing around his room and nearly crying with joy because he was on Fitz's match list, he was on Fitz's match list, and because Fitz wanted him there, at the gala. Fitz was willing to consider choosing Keefe as a match, willing to consider spending the rest of his life with Keefe. It was a small chance, but more of a chance than he'd ever dreamed he might have, and that was enough to celebrate.

And of course, he cringed looking back on that happiness as well. Because he really did look like a fool. And besides, it was idiotic to think that chance really meant something, that a fleeting moment of hope, of maybe, could ever turn into something real. Of course it couldn't. Fitz loved Sophie, it was obvious from halfway across Everglen's massive ballroom, they were so in love.

Even being on Fitz's match list, being on a boy's match list, was more than Keefe ever thought he'd get. Same sex matches were only allowed recently, after Della came out and dumped Alden for Livvy, and her popularity throughout the Lost Cities convinced enough people to support this ridiculous notion that love is love. It was really incredible that Keefe's bisexual disaster of a self could even be matched with both boys and girls, and what was he thinking, hoping for more? Pushing his luck?

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Didn't he already know he was stupid, when it came to the belief that maybe, possibly, he could have a chance with someone he loved? When he thought maybe, maybe he might have a chance with Sophie, despite knowing she would never be interested in him? Not instead of Fitz, not in addition to Fitz, never. No matter how much he flirted, all the times he tried to impress her, everything he did to try to prove he was worth her time, it never worked. She would never feel the same way, with that warmth and sunlight and happiness he felt for her. Never.

Angrily, Keefe shoved a custard burst into his mouth, trying to be polite and nod along and smile as Biana stood to the side with him and talked about how happy she was with Marella. He tried to be happier for her, he did, but it was so hard. It was so hard to be happy with her love life when his own was such a disaster. As she talked, Keefe's eyes couldn't stop drifting over to Sophie and Fitz, who were still twirling slowly, orbiting each other, because they were the center of each other's universes and nothing else matter, not when they were so enamored, leaning in closer, and closer, and closer... he couldn't watch, but he couldn't not watch. It hurt to watch, but he couldn't tear his eyes away as Fitz gently tucked a strand of hair behind Sophie's ear, leaving his hand to cup her face...

"Keefe?" said Biana, concern in her tone. "Are you okay?"

Both of them. He was in love with both of them, so much it hurt.

"I need to get some fresh air," he choked out, turning around and rushing to the doors. Unable to resist sneaking one last glance towards Sophie and Fitz, he found them kissing, kissing each other and not him, and blinked back tears as he stepped outside. It was cold, enough for Keefe to distantly wish he'd brought a jacket. He barely noticed the frigid air, though, not when the flames of jealousy kept him nice and warm.

It was unclear how much time passed, as he leaned against the wall and wished things were different, hated that they weren't, and let jealousy wash over him every time he remembered Fitz and Sophie kissing. Which was often. A photographic memory was very annoying. Eventually, Keefe realized he was shivering and leaped back to his house. It fixed the cold. It didn't fix the jealousy. Nothing could. Eventually, he fell asleep, but even dreams couldn't get the image out of his head, even sleep couldn't extinguish the fire of jealousy that just burned and burned and burned.

The next day, he wanted nothing more than to lie in bed and wish Sophie loved him back, or Fitz loved him back, or ideally, both loved him back, but no. They still weren't interested, Keefe was still jealous, and he still had to go to Foxfire. After a morning of trying his best to avoid the new happy couple (couple, meaning two), they finally cornered him after lunch.

Keefe smiled, pretending he was okay, better than okay, he was happy, because they were happy. So incredibly, disgustingly, stupidly, painfully happy together. "Hey, guys," he said, keeping his voice as cheerful as physically possible. "Congratulations on finally making Fitzphie official. Or is it Sophitz? Who knows. Anyway, yeah. Congratulations." He took a deep breath as Sophie smiled, squeezing Fitz's hand. She was wearing her cognate ring. They were both wearing their cognate rings, and it practically looked like engagement rings. Or wedding rings. Keefe clenched his jaw, wondering how he would survive the next five minutes of having to endure this, let alone the rest of his life.

"You left really abruptly last night, I never got the chance to thank you for coming to my Winnowing Gala... you okay?" Fitz asked.

No, not really, he wanted to say, but Keefe forced himself to grit his teeth, swallow, and lie. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just wasn't feeling too well after all those custard bursts I ate." He laughed, but it sounded fake even to his own ears; tears stung his eyes and he fought them back. "I'm... I'm happy for you." As he said the words, his heart broke- no, it wasn't breaking. It was burning, being slowly destroyed by jealousy's flames. His heart burned and he forced himself to ignore the pain. Be happy for Sophie and Fitz, he ordered himself. They're happy, and if you really love them, you'll be happy that they're happy.

No matter what he told himself, it was impossible to really muster up that happiness, when his own heart was burning.

"Are you sure?" Sophie said, voice soft. "I may not be an Empath, but it's obvious you're really upset."

"No, I'm fine," Keefe argued, very badly.

With the hand that wasn't currently holding Sophie's, Fitz gently nudged Keefe. "Hey. If you want to talk about it, you can talk to us. We're your friends."

Friends. It was meant to be a good thing, Keefe knew, a reassurance, a word of support. Friends wasn't meant to be an insult. A taunt. That wasn't how Fitz meant it, and yet, it didn't take long for that to be all Keefe could hear, the word friends echoing over and over in a nearly mocking tone as jealousy brewed and bubbled beneath Keefe, burning in his chest and building like lava until he threatened to explode. Before Keefe could take the time to carefully construct a facade and plan his response, the walls around him collapsed and he did. He exploded.

"Exactly! Friends! You're my friends, you're both my friends, but that's the only thing we'll ever be. Neither of you will ever want to be anything other than my friend, but that's what I want more than anything. I'm so in love with you, both of you, but you're happy together and the only thing I am to you is a friend. I just..."  All the anger seeped out of him, leaving him with nothing more than a sort of resigned sadness. Nearly worse than jealousy. "...I'm sorry. I love you both, but you're in love with one another, and that's okay. It's okay. I'm... I'm happy for you." Keefe took a step back, then another, ready to run and hide and eat unholy amounts of ice cream and drown in jealousy. This was stupid. He was so stupid. All of this was stupid.

Sophie and Fitz, both of whom had been briefly still with shock at his outburst, came alive again. "Keefe, wait!" Sophie called, brushing her fingers against the edge of Keefe's cape as she reached out. Against his better judgement, he obliged.

"We definitely love each other," said Fitz, gesturing to himself and Sophie. Keefe clenched his teeth and nodded. "But... Sophie's not the only person I'm in love with. And I'm not the only person Sophie's in love with. Keefe, we were actually talking about it earlier, and wanted to ask if you'd be willing to form a sort of... triad with us."

Even as an Empath, Keefe couldn't quite find the words to describe the feeling rising in him right now. It was impossible to keep the smile off his face as he nodded and ran into a group hug.

Jealousy didn't completely go away, not quite. It sometimes made a faint reappearance, like when Sophie and Fitz danced or did their Cognate exercises, or when Keefe couldn't entirely shake the feeling that both Fitz and Sophie wished they were together without him. And even as an Empath, Keefe never did come up with any words beyond fire to describe jealousy, but due to its increasing rarity, that didn't seem necessary anymore.

The emotion he still felt he had to describe was love, but love was easy.

Love was the feeling of huddling around a campfire after nearly freezing, a laugh that you wish you could listen to forever, being unable to tear your eyes away from their smile because it was brighter and more beautiful than anything you've ever seen. Love was being in someone's arms and knowing you're safe, it was feeling like you're separated by inches when really you're oceans apart. It was the knowledge that, when you're with them, there's nowhere else you'd rather be. Love felt like sunlight every time he saw their faces, and what the canvas showed every time he went to paint with them in mind. It's what kept him going through the days when Lord Cassius calls him worthless and he agrees. More than anything, love is what Keefe is absolutely elated that they feel in return.

#sokeefitz #i think i did okay writing polyamory lamo #*lmao #i can't type #please lmk if you liked it #i wrote this at like 2am so probably not though #oh well #shai's writing

[softieforshadowhunters]

i will stand with you

blackstairs fanfiction!

read on archive of our own : https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244527

soooo i’m very new to tumblr and fanfiction but i decided to write a short story about emma and julian since they are my favorite ship in tsc. it’s just a little feel-good story where julian comforts emma as she deals with her fear of the ocean and the death of her parents...i hope you enjoy!!

The fear had been ingrained in her since the day she found her parents’ mutilated bodies washed up on the sand in Los Angeles. It didn’t matter that they didn’t actually die thrashing around in the waves, scrambling towards the surface, begging for air. It didn’t matter that they had been killed by a warlock on dry land and left lying around for someone to stumble upon. The fear was born that day, and the fear still lived on. 

Staring out at the endless deep blue abyss, all she could feel was the fear — the tightening in her chest that made it hard to breathe, the beating of her heart steadily growing faster and faster and faster, so fast that she thought it was going to break through her chest but she couldn’t breathe or speak or —

“Emma. Emma, look at me.”

Emma tore her gaze from the sea and turned towards the voice. It was that voice, his voice, that had always been able to reach her when no one else’s could. It was his words that brought her comfort — they always had and they always would. From the secrets whispered in her ear when they were just children to the vow of loyalty and friendship that he proclaimed to her in their parabatai ceremony to the promises he breathed against her skin every morning when they woke up in each other’s arms — that he would never leave her, that he would always protect her, and that she was his happiness, his refuge, his universe, his Emma. Even now, years and years later, it was his voice that she loved to hear the most. 

“Emma, love, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

Over and over he whispered those two words against her as he held her close, his breath stirring the blond strands of her hair. 

“Jules,” was all she could manage to say. 

Responding to her voice, he began to pull away from their embrace, but Emma tightened her hold on him so that they were pressed up against each other even closer than before. She wasn’t ready to talk — she just needed him to hold her. Her skin tingled as he ran his hands up her arms that were wrapped tightly around his waist. He started at her elbow, tracing soothing lines up to her shoulder before wrapping his arms around her fully, letting one hand rest in the center of her back while the other found its way into her hair. She heard him softly telling her that she was safe, that everything was alright, that he loved her and would always protect her, but she felt so far away. All she could hear was the crash of the waves banging against the shore again and again and again. She felt like she was drowning and it didn’t matter that she was on dry land, up on the porch of their little house that sat quite a ways from the water. She had to get away from it all or she was going to drown.

“Can we go inside?” she whispered against Julian’s shirt. He smelled like he always did — cloves, soap, and salt — and she knotted her hands in the fabric as he lifted her up from the waist to carry her inside. She brought her legs around his torso and crossed her feet so that they rested against the small of his back. She squeezed her thighs so that she was wrapped so tightly around him that she worried for a second that he might not be able to breathe. It wasn’t that she feared that he would drop her — Julian was strong and she trusted him more than anyone in the world — but her ears still rang with the beat of the ocean waves and he was the only thing that kept her from falling under their dark cover. 

Julian sat down on the edge of the bed and scooted back so that he was leaning against the pillows layered in front of the headboard. Emma was now seated in his lap with her knees on either side of his waist. Despite the change in position, her arms were still locked around his neck and her forehead rested against his shoulder. He traced circles on her back and whispered soothingly into her hair. Everything about him — every word, every touch — was soft and gentle. 

Emma could hear Kieran’s voice in her mind telling Julian that he had a ruthless heart. She could see herself standing in front of him when they were still parabatai telling him that he had scared her, the way he crafted lies with ease and delivered them without batting an eye. But this Julian, the one who held her now, he was gentle. Because Julian was gentle with the things that he loved. 

Emma knew that his heart wasn’t ruthless, it was simply broken — just as hers was. They both had lost so much and endured pain that no one should have to endure. It left them shattered, simply fragments of who they could have been if their parents were alive, if there had never been a war, and if they had been normal parabatai — parabatai that had never fallen in love. But their parents had died, and they had fought in a war, and they had fallen in love, but together they picked up the broken pieces and they each served as the glue that held the other together. It was love that turned Julian from an innocent boy into a man — a man who killed his own father to protect his siblings, who raised four kids when he was only twelve years old, who watched as his sister died in his arms, who started wars and won them no matter the cost. It was love that made Julian ruthless. But it was love that made him gentle too. 

Eventually Emma’s heart rate slowed and her grip on Julian loosened. Sensing this change, Julian spoke.

“Em?” he whispered.

The years they had spent together allowed them to hear the words left unspoken between them. Emma knew that he was doing more than simply asking if she was ready to talk. In just that one syllable, there were hidden promises: that if she was ready to talk then he was ready to listen and that if she wasn’t, then he would hold her close until the time came. All she wanted was to stay wrapped up in Julian’s arms and let him tell her over and over that she was safe and that he loved her until her fears faded away, replaced by his soft voice and his strong hands. But she was a warrior. This was simply another battle that she had to fight.

Emma took a deep breath to ground herself and squeezed her eyes shut as she lifted her forehead from the safety of Julian’s shoulder. She kept her eyes closed as she straightened her spine so that she sat upright in Julian’s lap. Even when she felt him push a lock of hair behind her ear and even when he kissed the tops of her eyelids with a tenderness that made Emma’s heart squeeze in her chest because she didn’t deserve this boy or the love and patience that he showed her; she didn’t deserve someone as good as Julian; she was broken beyond repair and she didn’t deserve someone who was so willing to break himself apart to put her back together — even then, she kept her eyes closed. It was not until she heard his voice that she let herself see his face.

“Emma, look at me,” he breathed.

The first thing she saw was the pair of blue-green eyes that she knew so well starting back at her. She remembered the night on the beach when she had looked in his eyes and seen pure fear and desperation. In some ways it had been terrifying to see him so out of control — Julian was supposed to be the level-headed one who kept her grounded and tempered her blazing fire. But that night the walls he had built so carefully around himself fell apart in front of her.

“We are bound together Emma,” he had said. “Bound together — I breathe when you breathe, I bleed when you bleed, I’m yours and you’re mine, you’ve always been mine, and I have always, always belonged to you!”

Now when she looked at him his eyes were clear — the wall had been gone for so long now — and his gaze upon her was steady. There was overwhelming gentleness in those blue-green windows mixed with a tinge of sadness at seeing Emma in pain. Without thinking, she ran her thumbs under his eyes and down his cheeks as though she were wiping away his tears. She was the one with wet cheeks, however, not him. 

He smiled softly and his eyes fluttered shut at her touch for just a second before he was looking at her again. 

“Ems, talk to me,” he pleaded and the softness of his voice broke whatever wall was holding her together. 

“It terrifies me,” she cried, choking on her tears. “I can’t think or breathe or move and I just imagine them dying over and over again and I never got to say goodbye and I —”

A sob escaping from her throat interrupted her spill of words and she quickly clasped her hand over her mouth to cut it off. Julian tightened his arms around her and pulled her closer to him so that she was curled up against his body. He kissed her temple and spoke to her softly promising once again that she was safe, that he was there and he wasn’t going to leave, that above all else he loved her and everything was going to be okay. When the sobs that racked her body subsided, Julian spoke again. 

“Your parents loved you, Emma. And I wish they were here.” He planted a kiss on her shoulder before continuing. “God, I wish they were here. I wish they all were here, that we could have all made it out in one piece.” He took a shuddering breath and Emma knew that he was thinking about Livvy and remembering her sweet smile and bright eyes that lost their light when she died in Julian’s arms. She knew that there would always be a hole in Julian’s heart where Livvy should be and that there was a part of him that would always be broken. No matter how hard she tried, that piece could only be healed by his sister’s touch — a touch that he would never experience again. 

It was her turn to comfort him now, to save him from the thoughts that ran through his mind each night; the thoughts that drove him into a spiral of guilt and grief so deep that it left him frenzied and lost whenever he resurfaced. She pushed herself up onto her knees so that he had to crane his neck back slightly to look at her face. She pressed her lips to his forehead and wrapped her arms around him, resting one hand at the back of his neck and the other in the curls of his hair. They were both so broken; scarred by their trauma so deeply that it woke them up in the middle of the night sweating and screaming and breathing heavily, but they were always there to comfort one another. Sometimes it was Julian holding Emma in his lap while the nightmare subsided and other nights it was Emma shaking Julian awake, pulling him out of the dark places that his mind took him, grabbing his face in her hands and waiting until his eyes cleared with the realization that the nightmare wasn’t real but Emma who sat in the bed beside him was. 

They were broken yes, but they were also strong. Even after losing so many, they still chose to love, and it was the love they had for one another that soared above it all. They were strong in that they still found joy and laughter despite the sadness they had endured and they still saw hope for a better future even with the darkness of their past casting a shadow over them. They were strong. It was what they whispered to each other on the nights when the nightmares came — they were strong, they were okay, they had each other and they would make it through. 

Julian pulled away and looked up at Emma, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. He looked her in the eyes and spoke, no longer allowing himself to be comforted when he knew that Emma needed it more. 

“I know that it scares you.” His voice was steady and his gaze upon her never wavered. “But we fear things because we value them. For so many years you believed that it was the ocean that took your parents, that they died hidden underneath the surface in endless darkness. And so you feared the ocean because it took the two people you loved most in the world. And it may take years before that fear subsides, but you are strong, Emma Carstairs. You are the strongest and the bravest person I know and when the day comes that you want to dip your feet in the water, I will stand with you.”

He leaned up to brush his lips against her jaw and then her neck before settling back down again. He took her face in his hands so that she was looking straight into his eyes. “But until then,” he whispered, “we will stay on dry land and I will stand with you here, too.” 

With a small tilt of his head he brought his lips to hers. He let his hands travel down her back until they found a place to rest on her hips while Emma brought her hands up to cup his face as she deepened the kiss. She ran her thumbs across his cheeks and allowed herself to get lost in the taste of his lips. She opened her mouth over his, breaking the kiss for just a second before connecting with him again. It was slow and gentle — exactly what both of them needed. They loved each other with a passion that burned inside of them like fire, but sometimes a brush of lips and a whispered “I love you” was all they needed to keep themselves from falling apart. 

Emma pulled away, at last, still holding Julian’s face in her hands. Their foreheads were pressed together and Emma looked down upon Julian’s closed eyes, his dark eyelashes resting on his cheekbones. He looked so young, so innocent — there was no ruthlessness in this boy. But no matter how he looked, Emma knew that he had grown up too quickly in order to take care of his siblings and that his innocence had been stolen long ago, replaced by blood on his hands. Julian Blackthorn was ruthless, but only to those who threatened what he loved. And Emma was the one he loved the most. 

“Julian,” Emma whispered into the space between them. 

He mumbled a soft “Hm?” and opened his eyes in response to her voice, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

“I love you,” Emma said quietly. 

He brought his hand up to push her hair out of her face and allowed a single golden strand to flow across his palm as his fingers traveled down to the frayed ends. “I love you too, Emma,” he whispered back. 

They sat in the silence for a while, arms wrapped around each other as the sound of waves crashing against the shore seeped into their little house. Finally, Emma spoke. 

“Jules?” 

“ Yeah?”

“Can we go put our feet in the water?”

He slowly moved his forehead away from hers and looked at her closely for a long time, running his finger across her face, tracing the shape of her lips. He couldn’t help but smile. This was his Emma — a warrior who faced her fears head-on and never considered even for a second that they would get the final say. 

“Are you sure?” was all he said.

“Yeah,” she replied and her mouth slowly grew into the shape of a smile. It was that smile that brought Julian a feeling of happiness so strong and so deep that sometimes he thought that it would kill him. But no, he would survive it, he would survive all of it — all the wars, all the battles, all the demons in the world. You could turn a thousand soldiers against him and he would come away victorious just for the chance to see that smile one more time.  

“Yeah, I’m ready. All I need is you,” she said.

“You have me,” he promised her. “Always and forever, you have me.”

#blackstairs #blackstairsfanfiction #shadowhunters #shadowhuntersfanfiction #emmacarstairs #julianblackthorn #jemmablackstairs #thedarkartifices #fanfiction #tda #cassandraclare #theshadowhunterschronicles #ladymidnight #lordofshadows #queenofairanddarkness

[searchforthescars]

okay but consider??? au in which livia DOESNT DIE???

HI HELLO THANK YOU

also sorry for this lol @helen-blackthorn might kill me but oh heckin well

It burns.

Something is twisting and writhing under her skin, red-hot and angry, all-encompassing and terrible.

Dimly, she thinks she might be screaming, straining against something she can’t see, something that’s holding her down as she tries to break free, to get away from this ugly thing burning her alive.

She floats like that for days, trapped and scared, nerves raw from the pain. Sometimes she hears voices, low tones she doesn’t recognize, whispers that remind her of home. Once or twice she hears her name. At least, she thinks it’s her name; she’s been reduced to a mass of pain and ache and burn for what feels like centuries and even trying to breathe hurts.

When she wakes up - really wakes up, not the half-dream state she floats in and out of during the rare times she’s not burning up - there’s something heavy resting on her stomach. 

She reaches down to touch it and it moves, so she jerks back, then lets out a bitten-off howl of pain as the scar on her chest flares white-hot.

Oh, she thinks dimly over the pain that washes over her raw nerves, so that’s what hurts.

“Livvy!” It’s Julian, his warm voice and large hands comforting her, smoothing back her hair and straightening her covers the way he always did when she was sick. “Livvy, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

He sounds like he’s about to cry. She tries to tell him that she’s alright, but the words die in her mouth. Her tongue feels like lead. Her throat aches. She has so many questions - where am I? chief among them - but the energy it would take to summon the words is altogether out of her reach.

“You’re at the Citadel,” Julian explains. “The Sisters knew what to do.”

She nods, the exhausted acceptance of a wounded warrior. Julian moves his chair from down by her torso to up by her head. She lifts her arm to touch his cheek, then raises her arms in the childish hold-me gesture she gave him nearly daily when they were young. She’s suddenly cold, the kind of cold that goes bone-deep, and she just wants her big brother to warm her up and keep her safe.

He gathers her halfway into his arms, keeping her lower half on the bed while he wraps her arms around his shoulders - she ignores the pain in her chest this time - and holds her head to his chest. She can feel his heartbeat.

“You’re so brave, Livvy,” he murmurs. “So strong.”

“And stupid,” she mutters. Her voice is the rasp of nails on glass, but Julian laughs out loud nonetheless. When she looks up, she sees his bright smile, however false and fleeting, and wants to cry. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “You saved us. You saved me.”

He presses a kiss to the crown of her head. She feels seven again. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispers. A tear falls onto her hair. “It was a close call, but you’re going to be okay.”

She stays with the Iron Sisters for two months, healing and regaining her strength, rolling her eyes as they fuss over her and squirming away when they test the effects of blessed metals on her. The Mortal Sword had disastrous effects on those that survived it, they said, and they needed to make sure she wouldn’t be a danger to herself or others.

“They probably think you’ll spontaneously combust or something,” Julian had muttered in her ear. She had laughed and it had hurt, but it felt like the first ray of sun peeking through the clouds after a storm.

Julian was asked to leave after her third day of consciousness. The Sisters had allowed him to stay as a courtesy, but she needed time and he needed to go home. Livia could barely stand to watch him walk through the Portal, and was comforted only by the fact that he could tell the others she was alive.

The first night Livia was alone, she felt it: a wave of sadness so strong, and yet so distant, washing over her, tugging on her heart, making her cry.

“It’s the twin bond,” an elder Sister says sagely as Livia brusquely wipes her tears because Institute heads don’t cry. “You feel strongly when he does, just as he suffered with you when you nearly died.”

The thought stops her cold. He had hurt too? Was that why he collapsed when she was stabbed?

The memory flashes back to her: the shock and pain of the mangled sword through her chest, Ty’s anguished cry, Ty, Ty, I-

She nearly slams into a closed door, then sags against it instead, biting down on her fist and pressing her other hand flat against her chest, feeling the raised scar against her palm. 

He had suffered. The thought is as unforgivable and inexcusable as her weakness.

She turns, pushes her way past a training group and into her room, stops in front of the mirror and yanks down the collar of her shirt.

It’s the first time she’s seen the scar properly. It’s hideous, bright red, puckered and angry, like a vicious fissure left over from an earthquake or a tectonic plate shift. She sees herself cringe at the sight of it.

It doesn’t matter, she tells herself. It’s superficial. It doesn’t matter. But, no matter how often she tells herself so, she looks at the still-healing wound and sees the broken sword, feels the pain, hears her twin cry out once before collapsing onto cold stone.

It’s hard to say what hurts the most.

When she comes home, nothing and everything is as it was.

Everything is as it was. The house is noisy.

She lets herself in with the key Julian keeps hidden under the third porch floorboard from the left and lets the noise wash over her. She hears Emma and Julian taunting one another, the crash of a door banging open and the patter of Tavvy’s running feet. She also hears the steady thunk of a knife landing on a target. She follows that sound.

Nothing is as it was. Ty is standing in the center of the training room, throwing knife after knife with deadly accuracy, barely giving one time to land before Kit is handing him another.

His eyes are dark, laser-focused, and only Livia, with her practiced eye, can see the slight tremor in his hands. The cord of his headphones swings with every toss. He’s so focused he doesn’t notice Kit shooting to his feet and dropping the knives until there isn’t another weapon to grab.

“Kit-” he starts, annoyed, and then turns to see what Kit is staring at.

“You’re back!” Kit shouts, obviously delighted, at the same moment Ty drops his knife and runs to her, wrapping her in a hug so unexpected she actually squeaks in surprise.

“Ty, what-”

“I missed you,” he whispers fiercely. His hands are steady now. He pulls away and looks her dead in the eyes. “I missed you,” he says again. 

His ever-observant eyes cut down to the scar on her chest. She moves her hand to cover it, and Ty grabs it, pulling it away. “Does it hurt?” he asks, almost childlike.

She shakes her head. “It’s more the reminder that hurts than anything.”

He frowns. “Why? You were brave. You saved Julian. You saved us.”

“The scar,” she says softly. “It’s hideous.”

“I think it’s badass,” Kit interrupts.

Livia grins, reaching out to sling an arm around Kit’s shoulder. Ty links his pinky finger with hers. “I’ll explain later,” she tells Ty, joy bubbling up in her mangled chest when he rests his head on her shoulder and says quietly in their shared language that he still wants to be her parabatai.

For now, she is happy.

#Anonymous #tda #lord of shadows spoilers #lord of shadows #lord help me im back on my BS #sorry in advance for literally......all of this #livia blackthorn #amanda writes fanfiction

[jemsboner]

post lord of shadows thoughts and predictions

okay time to round up all this shit in one post. this is still all over the place though sorry, it’s in no order just writing shit down as it comes to me. this is going to be super long and spoilery so it’s under a read more

1. I enjoyed Lord of Shadows much more than Lady Midnight. LM was good but it felt very bogged down in character and plot introduction, not its fault it had a lot to introduce lmao. Wasn’t super excited to read los after lm cause it wasn’t that memorable, but now I’m dying for Queen of Air and Darkness. 2. Since LM was (I’m pretty sure been a while) told exclusively through the older kids povs, ty and livvy felt super young despite only be 2 years younger than Julian and Emma, but they really felt like teenagers who are just tired of being treated and seen as children in this one. 3. Um I really feel for Malcolm. Like a lot. Listen I know he went a little of the deep end there, but no one could argue against that he loves Annabel more than anything. All the diary entries and the house he built for them honestly kill me. I really don’t believe he left her alone on purpose which makes me sad because Annabel died believing he betrayed her and that was one of the reasons she killed him. I’m excited to see him before he knew the truth about Annabel in TLH. 4. Speaking of Annabel holy shit. Something is definitely not right with her. I like how powerful she is and she was pretty endearing at the end, she actually kind’ve reminds me of cecily. also I’m dying cause I just remembered while writing this that everyone thought that Livvy looked alike Annabel kill me. I definitely didn’t think she meant to do what she did at the end, obvs an explanation is not an excuse 😏, but she lashes out and then gets scared. she seems to regret killing livvy the moment after it happens and I’m interested to see how this affects her. 5. So I guess with no inquisitor that exile thing is not gonna work. but I still believe that cortana will have something to do with breaking the parabatai bond…it can cut through anything after all. 6. Speaking of cutting through anything EMMA FUCKING BROKE THE MORTAL SWORD. LIKE THAT CAN NOT BE GOOD AT ALL. AND WHAT WAS THAT BLACK SHIT INSIDE OF IT??? 7. I’m scared what Livvy’s death is going to do to Julian because the guy has really been slipping down the mental health slope for a while now. not gonna lie, Julian was TERRIFYING in this book. he really doesn’t give a shit about anyone that isn’t Emma or family. also the red flag for me was when him and Emma were arguing and he smashed that glass, like that is not a good way to take out your anger, but I mean Emma immediately puts a hole in the wall so they’re both not the best examples for how to act in a healthy relationship. also, despite what he told Emma, he seems to be absolutely fine with breaking every other parabatai bond just to be with Emma. listen I love Julian but he seems to be slipping a lil into antagonist territory. 8. Not that Emma wasn’t cutthroat either. she didn’t even consider mercy when it came to Annabel, she was gonna slice right through her, u know until the unseelie king spirited her away. 9. Kit and Ty were adorable. also has it been confirmed that they’re the Wicked Power protagonists? because if not I’m p sure they are. 10. I was so happy to be back at the London Institute. I loved all the little tid and tlh hints everywhere (jem and will’s height charts 😭😭😭) um so Bridget is still super alive somehow uuuuhh?? how??? jessamine is a darling brat as usual. love her. also that line where Magnus said they weren’t the first to think to burn down the blackthorn manor?? tlh reference maybe? 11. while Mark/Emma will always hold a place in my heart I really warmed up to Emma/Julian and Mark/Cristina/Kieran. btw I really feel like that’s gonna end in polyamory, I think cc has been wanting to write and actual poly relationship ( I love herongraystairs but I don’t think it technically counts going by only canon) for a while now, and while only Mark/Cristina and Mark/Kieran were introduced in lm, Cristina and Kieran def gotta a lot closer in this book and seemed to have a lot of romantic tension. anyway new ot3. 12. if u know anything about me u know I’M A SLUT FOR JEM AND TESSA. anytime they were mentioned I started breathing heavy. still sad they didn’t actually appear in this one, but it seems set up for them to appear in the final one speaking of… 13. listen I love Magnus and I want no harm to come to him but TESSA IS SICK I CANT DEAL WITH THIS. LIKE CAN HER AND JEM JUST BE HAPPY AND HEALTHY WITHOUT SOME INCURABLE ILLNESS HANGING OVER THEM. and like what other warlocks have been affected??? IS CATARINA OKAY? 14. y'all that guy with green skin has gotta be ragnor there is not doubt in my mind. cc has always regretted killing him and I’ve been waiting for this tree colored man to return for a while now. I want to know why he’s in hiding tho and he like bolted when Magnus showed up on the scene. 15. EY YO FUCK THE COHORT AND FUCK ZARA. at first I thought they were a little too cartoony of villains, like there was no complexity to them, they just seem like straight up douche nozzles all the time, but then I remembered that they’re based off real issues right now and people really do think like this sooo. but like Zara is absolutely the worst, how dare and her awful buddies talk shit to my children. everytime anything came out of her mouth I was like-LETS GO. OUTISDE. RIGHT NOW. TRIAL BY COMBAT, YOU LYING SNAKE. 16. I really loved the seelie and unseelie courts and their differences. like I agree cc is a little long winded, but her writing has greatly improved since CoB and it really showed in this one for me. I like the unseelie king and I hope we get to see more of him in the next book, and maybe more of Kieran’s brothers, wouldn’t want to let all those cute faerie boys go to waste. 17. as much as I hate to say it, I’m p sure that the seelie court member that was stolen by the unseelie was Sebastian’s and the seelie queen’s kid. LIKE I HOPE IM SO WRONG AND THAT THAT FUCKING KID DOESNT EXIST BUT ALL SIGNS SEEM TO BE POINTING TO HELL CHILD. 18. speaking of Sebastian, the way cc was talking about him before los came out, I was really expecting something big about him to happen, like his ghost (or demon seed ugh) he was barely even mentioned except closer to the end there. 19. oh yeah I can’t believe Clary’s dead???? like I’ve never been a big fan of clary or jace but the way she talked about like she’s already accepted it killed me. like if this happens it’s going to ruin jace. 20. I’ve become very endeared to Dru throughout los, I think she’s my fav blackthorn besides Julian. she’s chubby which is fucking GREAT and tho the whole pretend I’m not 13 thing with Jaime made me a lil uncomfy, he didn’t really flirt with her or anything and their friendship was really cute. it seems to me cc is setting her up with that Ash kid that appeared for 2 seconds. YO @emmascxrstairs JUST ROCKED MY WHOLE WORLD AND SAID THAT ASH IS THE DEMON SPAWN AND IM MAD BECAUSE OF COURSE HE IS LMAO FLEW RIGHT PAST ME. 21. that’s one thing that kills me with cc books, is that other than the main romances it’s usually super easy to tell who ends with who, and that she feels the need to pair EVERYONE OFF. lmao I was actually wondering why a love interest hadn’t been introduced for Livvy yet (Kit doesn’t count cause after that first kiss, it was real obvs him and ty were gonna be the thing) and then she died and I was like…oh…that’s why. 22. like many predicted, Diana is trans and im crying she’s amazing. her and Gwyn caught me off guard but I’m not gonna lie, they’re really cute. 23. also omg I just thought with livvy dying, what if Julian blames it on himself and the parabatai curse kill me. 24.so yeah all in all 👌👌👌 very good would recommend. now time to get fucking pumped for the last hours

#feel free to ask me about anything but i think i covered fucking everything lmao #lord of shadows #the dark artifices #the mortal instruments #los spoilers