#need soft carstairs family content

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

what about....... 💻 for thomastair, with the plot "there's only one bed"? thank u 🥺

i know we're all going off about ariadne & alastair right now but I wanted to get this posted!! thomastair fluff with a little angst. i hope you like this, it was a lot of fun to write! pls check the end for disclaimers, i also cross-posted to AO3. only content warnings are discussion of grief and brief mention of racism.

prompt: “there’s only one bed”

“You’re in luck!” the innkeeper declared. “There are four rooms left.” 

“Thank you, sir,” James responded without question. Four rooms, eight people. “We’ll take them.” James paid the gentlemen and turned to his friends. 

Lucie pouted. “I suppose that means Daisy and I can’t share a room.” 

It was a trying journey, dragging a group of eight along into rural England, but they needed to find the portal that continued to allow Belial a connection to this realm, and their only leads were here. It was the sole way to stop Belial for good. It began as just the Merry Thieves, of course, but then Lucie and Cordelia caught wind of it, and they couldn’t refuse. From there, it was Alastair, who refused to allow his sister to go without him, despite the animosity that still sat between him and the other boys, and Jesse, who insisted that this was the only way to save Grace and free her from Belial’s - and their mother’s - control. As such, the eight of them departed. It might not be ideal to travel with so many people, but it did allow them to split into smaller groups relatively easily - unless, of course, those groups were sharing a room with each other. 

Without Alastair and Jesse, it would be simple: Lucie with Cordelia, James with Matthew, and Thomas with Christopher. However, no one really knew Jesse all that well apart from Lucie, and they certainly didn’t trust Alastair enough to leave Jesse with him for a night. Most logically, the girls would stay with their brothers, but Lucie had been excited about the idea of a ‘sleepover’ with Cordelia all day. The weather was beginning to become treacherous, as it sometimes did during English winters, and they knew they would need to retreat to an inn that evening. 

“Nonsense, Lucie,” Thomas said a little more quickly than seemed logical. “I can stay with Alastair, and I’m sure one of you doesn't mind staying with Jesse.” He eyed his friends. “You two should enjoy yourselves; it’s been a difficult couple of days.” 

Lucie’s eyes lit up eagerly. “Oh, Thomas, are you sure?” 

Matthew’s eyes had darkened and he repeated, “Yeah, Tom, are you sure?” 

Alastair rolled his eyes and ignored the fact that they were solely debating who would have the displeasure of spending the night in the same room as him. 

“I said so, didn’t I?” was Thomas’ reply. 

“I’ll stay with Jesse,” James offered before the discussion could continue into more hurtful territory. 

The innkeeper led them to their rooms, and they settled for the night. 

Alastair gritted his teeth when he saw that instead of two single beds, there was one double. He sighed. “I can go ask for extra blankets; I’ve slept in worse places.”

Thomas paused for a second in confusion. “Don’t be daft, Carstairs, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us.” He turned his head sideways. “Though it might be a bit short…” 

“You don’t have to-” 

“I said, don’t be silly. We’re here to rest, that’s all.” 

Alastair grunted but didn’t push it further. They continued in relative silence as they took turns changing behind the folding screen and freshening up at the wash bin. Finally comfortable, Alastair settled into the armchair beside the bed with the book he’d brought along and tried to consume himself enough in the reading that he could ignore that just a few feet away from him was the very tall, very muscular, very attractive man who hated him.

It wasn’t working. 

“What are you reading?” 

Alastair bit his lip. He hated when people interrupted him while he was reading, but he supposed he wasn’t really reading at all, just pretending to. The cover of the book was plain, a deep red leather with no writing. Whenever he was around folks who were not his family, he was careful to position himself in a way that no one would be able to see the writing inside - writing that did not use the Roman alphabet. He always felt more comfortable with Thomas, though, for some odd reason. He sighed. “Divan-e Shams.” He tilted the book towards Thomas so he could see a bit of the Farsi poetry written inside. 

“Would you read some to me? I’ve forgotten my reading material.” 

Alastair flashed him an incredulous look. “What an important thing to forget.” 

“Yes,” Thomas sighed. “I have realized. So…?” 

Alastair rolled his eyes and did his best to translate. “My desert is without end, my soul, my heart must tear. The world here-” 

“No, no,” Thomas interrupted. “In Persian.” 

Alastair pushed away some of his shock. After all, Cordelia had said that Thomas had been studying the language with Lucie. “Right,” he amended before beginning again. Around the same spot, though, he cut himself off. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“It’s just… it’s meant to be sung. It feels strange saying it.” 

“Sing it, then.” 

Alastair stared at him for a moment. Was this some sort of trick? Was he going to run off to his schoolboy friends the moment he was finished to laugh about what he had done? Was he doing it to get revenge? He pondered all of the possibilities, but his mind rested on just one thought: that perhaps it would be worth it, to play into some cruel trick, if it meant he could say that he’d sung to Thomas Lightwood, even just once. 

“I mean… You don’t have to, but you can. If you wanted,” Thomas said quickly, realizing that he might have made Alastair uncomfortable. 

Alastair cleared his throat and began to sing. He made sure to keep his voice soft and low as he made his way through the ghazal, careful to not allow anyone to hear through the walls. Cordelia would never let him live it down if she heard. He finally looked up at Thomas, who was staring at him intensely. 

“That was beautiful.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you understand any of it?” 

Thomas grinned. “Not a word.” 

Alastair chuckled. “That’s alright. Mevlevi - I believe you folks call him Rumi - was a genius. He crafted phrases in a way… Well, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything else quite like it. He gives new meanings to old words and uses quite a bit of wordplay, speaking of love and loss and longing… I used to think it was a tragedy, truly, that English speakers could not understand, but now… it’s nice. Like a secret only I, and, well, Persia, have access too.” He bit back a smile as he rambled. While the books he had were from his mother, she never had much of an interest in it all, nor Cordelia, so he’d never had anyone to muse about the poet with before.

“I can see why you enjoy it so much. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard something so beautiful before. I didn’t even know you could sing.” 

Alastair felt his brain sputter a bit. He’d become so entranced with the language before him that he’d forgotten that he had just sung it to Thomas. He felt his face flush, and he was grateful that it is difficult to see against his dark complexion. “Oh… It was nothing. I mean, I don’t, really. It’s just something my mum taught me.” 

“It’s incredible,” Thomas said in awe, his face glowing a faint pink. “I, uh, I write songs, you know. I mean, I’ve never told anyone, least of all you, so, you wouldn’t know, but now you do. Just in my head, I mean. Well, sometimes I write them down. I’m not very musically inclined.” His face was growing redder by the second. 

Alastair was careful not to grin too widely. “Sing one, then.” 

“What?” Thomas squeaked. 

“Well, you don’t have to, but you can, if you want to.” 

Thomas threw him a quick glare for repeating his words and then took a deep breath. He was silent for a bit, but then he began to sing, careful not to look towards Alastair. “I woke up thinking you were still here, my hands shaking with regret. I've held this dream for such a long, long time, and now I want to wake up to the rhythm of a wild heart that beats, that beats like a drum. 

“Your light, it follows me in darkness. I'm trying hard, but I can't win, and I've played the victim for a long, long time, and I wanna grow up from the rhythm of a younger heart, it leads, just like a river runs.” 

Alastair stood from the armchair and moved to where Thomas was sitting on the edge of the bed, placing a gentle hand on his knee. “That’s beautiful, Thomas,” he said softly. “I didn’t… I know I didn’t know her, but I’m sure she’d love it.” 

Thomas turned away from him sharply, his lip trembling and tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. 

Alastair took the other boy’s hand, cupping it firmly between his own, as if just to say, I’m here with you. “It’s alright.” 

“No, it’s not,” Thomas said, trying futilely to wipe away his tears. “We were having a moment, and then I ruined it.” 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he replied gently. “You’re allowed to have feelings, Thomas. You shouldn’t just push them away.”

Thomas scoffed. “What do you suggest I do then? Mask my pain with cruel, horrible lies about those who have done nothing to deserve them like you do?” 

Alastair dropped his hand and stood up, backing away from Thomas. He was silent for a moment. “You’re right. You are. But I’m trying, Thomas, I really am. I don’t want to…” I don’t want to be my father, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. “I don’t want to be the kind of person who takes my hurt out on others anymore, and I’m trying. I swear it.” 

“I know,” Thomas said softly. He was silent for a moment. “I understand why you did it.” 

Alastair’s jaw tightened reflexively. 

“Matthew said some awful things about… about the way you look, and your father, and… the incident. You were in a bad way already.” 

Alastair was speechless. He’d forgotten that Thomas was present for that. He hadn’t shared any of it with Thomas, not his insecurities about his heritage, nor his father, and certainly not the horrible, world-altering guilt over Clive’s death that still sat in the depths of his soul years later. 

“That doesn’t make what you said okay.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

“You weren’t trying to hurt me.” 

“I was not.” 

“You were trying to hurt Matthew.” 

He sighed. “I was.” 

“And you did.” 

“I did.” 

“And perhaps he deserved some of it.” 

“Not what I did, though.” 

“No, not what you did.” 

“I took it too far.” 

“You did.” 

“I know. I’ve known since the moment I said it. I’ve regretted it since the moment I said it.” 

“I know.”

“I don’t think that it’s something that can be fixed, though.” 

“With Matthew? Maybe not.” 

“What about with you?” 

“There’s nothing to fix, Alastair.”

“I thought you hated me.” 

“I wanted to hate you because you hurt Matthew. But… I think the world is just a little more complicated than I’d like it to be.” 

Alastair sat back down on the bed, though farther from Thomas this time.

“Is that… Is that why you dyed your hair? Because of the things he said?”

Alastair attempted to hide the way he physically flinched. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve-” 

“Do you think he’s the only one?” he interrupted. “Do you think I haven’t been laughed at or ridiculed or worse, suspected to be dangerous or a thief, my entire life just because of how dark my hair and eyes and skin are?”  

“I’m sorry,” was all Thomas could find to say. “Matthew still shouldn’t’ve said those things. I’m sorry I never stopped him.” 

He’d left Alastair speechless yet again. The thought had never crossed his mind before, or perhaps it had, that Thomas could have ever spoken to Matthew about the kinds of comments he made on Alastair’s appearance. Though, the longer he pondered the idea, the more he wondered if he had held some sort of small resentment because of it, and never realized. “That wasn’t your responsibility.” 

“Perhaps not, but I could have tried.” 

He stared at him for a moment. Never in his life had felt so seen, so understood. In fact, he had many carefully built walls to protect against just that. “How do you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“How do you… just know everything?” 

Thomas half-rolled his eyes. “I don’t know everything. I just watch, and I observe, and I try, somehow, to understand. You’re not as complicated as you wish you were, you know.” 

He had a startling thought as he wondered whether anyone had ever watched him as closely as Thomas had. “Cordelia would disagree with you.” 

“Hm, I just might have to share with her the secret to you, then.” 

Alastair glared at him, but he was grinning now. “Don’t you dare.” 

“For the record, you know… I prefer dark features. Personally, I mean.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, I’m sure there were many striking dark-haired women back in Madrid.” 

“Hm,” Thomas pondered in an exaggerated way. “I don’t know… Though, there was certainly an attractive dark-haired someone that I met when I visited Paris.” 

“Well, I would hope so,” Alastair deadpanned. “Because according to you, we just shared a moment.”

Thomas cringed. “I had hoped you’d forgotten I’d said that.” 

“Me? Never.” 

“Does this… Does this mean we’re okay now?” Thomas was slow and cautious as he spoke. 

“Yes, I think it does.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I could help you, you know, with your songs, if you wanted, once we return to London. With that one, or others. I can play the piano.” 

Thomas narrowed his eyes. “You can play the piano?” 

Alastair shrugged. “Well, I used to, but I haven’t in a while.” 

“Why did you stop?” 

He bit his cheek as he thought. This was where he should say he grew bored of it, that it simply no longer interested him, or perhaps suggest that they should go to sleep, as they were both dreadfully tired, or even whip out a line cutting and cruel. He had meant what he’d said to Thomas, though, that he no longer wanted to be so heartless and closed off. “I don’t know… I used to play a lot with my mother when I was young. Then, life got too busy… I’d still play, but usually when my parents were fighting or when something was happening that I didn’t want Cordelia to overhear. I could just… start playing and everything else would just melt away. After a while, though, it was just hard to play without thinking about all of the bad memories.” 

There was more he wished to say, about how when he returned from the Academy he believed himself to be too corrupted and too broken to deserve to create anything beautiful, but this was a start. 

“I wouldn’t wish to remind you of any bad memories.” 

“Perhaps we could create some good memories, then.” 

“I… I’d like that.” 

“We should… we should probably sleep. It’s gotten late, and we’re sure to be running around all day tomorrow.” 

Thomas nodded, and they both climbed into opposite sides of a bed that once seemed far too small, but now, too wide. 

The exhaustion of the day finally creeping up on him, Alastair fell asleep almost instantly. 

When he woke, he found himself face first into Thomas’ night shirt. 

His head rested against Thomas’ chest, Thomas’ arm around his torso, their legs intertwined. He stared for a moment into the white of Thomas’ shirt, not daring to move. Should he? They’d flirted a bit the night before, but they were hardly even friends at this point. Was this too much, too far? The other boy seemed to be sleeping soundly, though, and from the sound of Thomas’ song and the circles he’d noticed under his eyes the past few months, he suspected that sound sleep might not be coming so easily to him nowadays. Therefore, the best thing would be not to move and risk startling Thomas from his rest. Besides, the room was quite chilly, and they could use each other’s warmth. 

Content with his decision to not move away from Thomas’ embrace, he allowed himself to fall back into a light, peaceful slumber, however long it would last. 

It lasted, he would learn, until his little sister began banging on their door. 

“Booooys,” she called. “Are you decent?” 

Alastair shot out of Thomas’ arms and fell onto the floor. He quickly straightened himself and hurried over to open it. “What do you want, Cordelia?” 

She grinned. “I just came to tell you that Lucie and I are eating breakfast downstairs. You should get ready.” 

“You could have said that through the door.” 

“I know,” she smirked. 

She started down the hall, and he closed the door, silently groaning. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked. 

“She’s up to something,” he answered. “We never should have left her and Lucie alone together. They probably spent all night scheming.” 

“Perhaps so,” he laughed. “Only one way to find out, though.” 

Alastair sighed. “You’re right. Okay, I’ll get ready quickly and go down, and then in five, maybe ten minutes, you can follow.” 

Thomas gave him an odd look, but didn’t fight it. “Alright.” 

A few minutes later, he joined Lucie and Cordelia downstairs. Unsurprisingly, Lucie had her notebook and was scribbling away while Cordelia nursed a cup of tea. A cup of black coffee sat in front of the seat he was meant to sit in. He loathed English tea, compared to Persian tea it was nothing more than hot water. None of the other boys had come down yet. 

“Alastair!” Lucie exclaimed when she noticed him. “Did you enjoy your night with Thomas?” 

Cordelia giggled. 

“I… We slept, if that’s what you are asking. That is what we were meant to do here, at an inn, wasn’t it?” 

Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Well, it was most peculiar, when I went to request an extra blanket last night, well, it certainly was not sleeping I heard from the hallway…” 

“Cordelia, you didn’t-” 

“I did.” 

“You heard Alastair singing-” 

“He was. In Persian.” 

“In Persian,” Lucie said the words succinctly with no expression on her face, as if she was laying out a fact during a murder trial. 

Once again, Alastair was grateful that no one could see him blush. “Did you two actually get any rest last night or did you just spend it gossiping about me?” 

“Not just you,” Lucie replied. “You and Thomas.” 

“Why do you keep saying his name like that?” 

“You’re welcome, you know,” Cordelia declared smugly. 

Alastair let out an exasperated sigh. “What?” 

“It was all part of the plan, Alastair,” Lucie answered. 

“It was quite brilliant, actually,” Cordelia supplied. “It was all Lucie’s idea. She knew that if we were to stay at an inn, Thomas would jump at the chance to spend a night with you.” 

“And he did, as expected, without hesitation,” Lucie confirmed. 

“The only issue, of course, being me, because we’d be far too obvious a pair for him to try to argue against.” Lucie nodded along to Cordelia’s explanation. “So, Lucie spent all day musing about how much she’d love to spend the night with me, just in case the opportunity arose.” 

“And it did!” Lucie squealed. 

“She’s been planning this since the engagement party,” Cordelia finished. 

“The engagement party?” he responded incredulously. “That was ages ago!” 

“And it has finally come to fruition, has it not?” Lucie babbled excitedly. 

He didn’t give her the dignity of replying. “I only have one question, though - how did you know there would only be one bed?” 

Lucie’s eyes widened. “There was only one bed!” she squealed as she began furiously scribbling into her notebook once again.

DISCLAIMERS: I don’t speak Farsi and the translation that Alastair makes is actually from this document. It’s the poem on page 9 and 10 if you want to check it out! Also, the song that Thomas sings isn’t mine, it’s adapted from “Like A River Runs” by the Bleachers. I tried to write something, but I’ve never experienced what Thomas has, and it’s a very beautiful song written about the loss of Jack Antonoff’s sister. You should listen to it! Though, I imagine Thomas’ version to be a bit less upbeat.

#jaimie's appreciation posts #dianasarrow #ask #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #lucie herondale #cordelia carstairs #thomastair #fanfiction #fanfic

[bytheangell]

May I please request a song fic for Kit with Into the Unknown as he starts coming into his faerie heritage pretty pretty please?

Into the Unknown (Read on AO3)

It’s strange, the way things seem to fall into place once Kit becomes aware of the Shadow World. At first, there was too much happening around him for Kit to focus on the more subtle aspects of the changes within himself - life immediately after his father’s death was a whirlwind of chaos and adventure alongside the Blackthorns. Though he often finds himself missing those times (and one of the Blackthorns in particular), his current living situation is much better suited for a proper adjustment into this new world. His new world.

The shift to the quiet and unassuming life he now has with Jem and Tessa is jarring, but not entirely unwelcome. It gives him time to figure out who he is, outside of Johnny Rook’s kid and outside of his involvement with the Blackthorns. It gives him time to start fresh, with no entanglements and no expectations: just a new Shadowhunter studying runes and angel names and Nephilim history. He feels almost normal, or at least as normal as being a Nephilim can feel.

Still… the desire to learn more about his past - about his heritage and the full story of The Lost Herondale and everything that comes with it - is strong. He’s curious, who wouldn’t be? A few talks with Jace leave Kit with the reassurance that family name identity crises are apparently a common Herondale past-time, which doesn’t make him feel any better over how detached he feels about all of these potential identities. Jem and Tessa are quick to reassure him that, despite taking him in, they certainly don’t expect him to consider himself a Carstairs or a Gray now… except he almost wishes they did. At least it’d take away the uncertainty he feels.

But it isn’t the Rook, Carstairs, Gray, or Herondale names that pique his curiosity - it’s his faerie lineage.

At first, he does his best to ignore it. He’s here now, with Jem and Tessa and Mina, and everything is fine. Fine, as far as Kit is concerned, is better than the alternative of not fine, which is what he’d be if he went sticking his nose into places it doesn’t belong. The burst of magic he used to vanish the steeds of the Riders of Mannan was as terrifying as it was impressive… and honestly, Kit isn’t sure he wants to do anything like that ever again. The fact that Jem and Tessa had to ensure no one saw, covering it up like a dirty secret, was proof enough that it wasn’t anything good. It’s certainly not something to be heralded or exalted like Clary and Jace’s special abilities.

Kit tells himself he’s fine as he is, that he’s content to be a Shadowhunter and that’s it. Everyone he knows, everyone he cares about, is right here (or a quick portal away, should he choose, to the LA Institute). He had plenty of danger and uncertainty in his life up to this point, and he doesn’t need to go inviting more now that things are finally settling down to something good. He’s happy here, and he doesn’t want to ruin that - not for him, or for Jem and Tessa.

Except he can’t ignore the little voice in the back of his head reminding him that there’s more to him than just being a Shadowhunter, however scary that may be. He may not have the pointed ears and other features that Helen and Mark share, but he has a faerie heritage just the same. It feels almost disrespectful to everything Jem and Tessa have given him to want to explore that other side of him, especially after he learns of all the prejudices against the Fey. If that’s a life he can stay out of, why wouldn’t he?

He’s a Shadowhunter. These people are his people, and that’s enough. It has to be.

Kit almost convinces himself he can leave it alone that easily, but it doesn’t last for long. As often as he wishes the curiosities from his mind would go away, they don’t. The thoughts remain as stubborn as he is. Kit feels the draw, the desire to know more, the call of powers he doesn’t understand. He ignores it as long as he can… he ignores it until he can’t any longer.

The idea of what he might be capable of keeps him up at night. Finally he caves and starts doing some research on his own, both online and in the wealth of books Jem and Tessa have here. He can’t find any concrete answers, though - in fact, once he starts looking online every time he finds one bit of information he stumbles across a new one that directly contradicts the first.

He wants to ask for help. He wants to ask Jem to take him to the Shadow Market, or for Tessa to see if there are any answers in the Spiral Labyrinth, but he doesn’t. What if it’s a mistake? What if it isolates him from the only family he has right now, and for what? To jump into the unknown of an entire realm of beings who may want nothing to do with him?

It takes some time before the draw becomes greater than his fear and hesitation. He doesn’t notice it at first, but it manifests in small ways. He’s found outside more and more often. He tends to the plants on the property instinctively, and they flourish under his care. Once or twice he finds himself following the sound of small, soft voices that he swears are calling to him, only to end up at a curious patch of flowers or a small body of water, alone.

Sometimes it happens without thinking, such as when he’s running through the woods and thick roots shrink back so he doesn’t trip over them, or mounds of earth rise up in front of him to provide leverage to jump a fence or reach a low branch on a tree to climb when he’s certain it hadn’t been that way moments before. Other times it’s intentional, like when he’s out training one night, tracking a relatively harmless, low-level demon, and wills a nearby tree to shift so that its branches hang lower to provide him cover. He places his hand on the tree, connecting to it, asking for aid purposefully. And then one day, when he’s alone in the woods and hears a noise coming toward him, a large, pointed spear grows itself from the roots of the tree next to him, a weapon at the ready when he’d been previously unarmed. How?! Had he done that, or had the nature around him sensed his distress and come to his aid on its own?

He says nothing about it to anyone, not until Jem brings his powers up first. It happens while they’re walking through a local park, pushing Mina around in a carrier. Without realizing he’s even doing it, Kit wanders away from Jem and Mina and into a nearby treeline. He only notices he’s strayed when he comes across a circular clearing in a tight cluster of trees, one that feels powerful, one that feels natural to want to be near. In fact, Kit feels the overwhelming desire to reach out, but to what he isn’t certain.

Come with us. Come to us. You belong with us. To us.

Kit has no doubt that the words are whispered on the wind by one of the Fey. Or maybe several fey, because the pull he feels is strong, nearly overwhelming.

“Who are you?” he asks aloud. “Do you know who I am? Can you… can you…” but what does he want to ask them? Can they tell him who he is, in a way he hasn’t figured out for himself yet? Can they show him how to control the things that happen to him even when he doesn’t mean for them to? Can they actually take him into this world he’s suddenly so desperate to experience?

Kit takes a step forward, and then another, until the constant soft whisper of voices ends abruptly, as does the warmth of the energy around him. They’re gone. He knows that for certain, despite the fact that he hadn’t seen them there in the first place.

“This isn’t the first entry point to the Seelie Realm you’ve been drawn to, you know,” Jem says from behind him, holding Mina in his arms after following him through the small patch of trees.

Kit doesn’t know, but he isn’t surprised to hear it. Just another instinctive thing, like gardening, like the weapon in the woods.

“I was waiting for you to come to us about it,” Jem adds.

“I thought about it,” Kit admits. “But after everything you’ve done for me…”

Jem’s look of curiosity softens as Kit’s words trail off and his gaze lowers to the grass below.

“You always have a home with us, but you aren’t obligated to it,” Jem reassures him. “Just as you aren’t obligated to pursue knowledge of the Fair Folk, either. It’s up to you.”

Kit wonders if he should have any decisions left to him at this point because he can’t shake the feeling that every turn he takes is wrong. He feels the ache of missing Ty, and even Dru and the others, every day. And now he has to decide if he wants to follow a path that may take him away from the only other people who have shown him kindness since his father died?

But standing here, feeling the energy from the entrance to a realm that calls to him stronger and more frequently ever since he opened the floodgate of tapping into his fey abilities, he realizes a part of him already knows what his answer will be.

“Will they even let me in?” Kit asks, reaching a hand through the air in front of him, half-expecting a portal to open right then and there now that he’s willing to take the risk.

“Not on your own. There are too many rules you don’t know, too many ways they would trick you into getting stuck there forever. The land under the hill is dangerous for anyone who does not live there,” Jem explains.

Kit wonders how close he just came to that very fate, if he’d followed the voices without question, or if Jem hadn’t shown up when he did.

“So I shouldn’t go,” Kit says, unable to keep the disappointment from his tone.

“I’m not saying that,” Jem corrects. “I said you shouldn’t go on your own. I have a few connections I can reach out to, to find you a proper guide - someone who can answer more of your questions than I can.”

Kit considers the offer, fighting the temptation to immediately roll his eyes and insist he can take care of himself. Finally, he nods.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Thank you,” he adds, surprised to hear the relief behind the words.

“You’re welcome,” Jem smiles. “Now, let’s get back before poor Tessa starts to worry.”

Later that night Kit comes down from his room to find Jem fast asleep on top of a spread of handwritten notes and open books. Creeping closer, Kit finds that they’re all about Faerieland, or fey abilities, or accounts of half-faeries throughout history. Among some of the things Jem wrote are ‘Bring more plant life into the house?’, a list of Seelies he knows to reach out to on behalf of Kit, and tips on channeling and harnessing intuitive magic.

Jem is going out of his way to learn whatever he can to help Kit, and the realization that he isn’t going to be alone in this is all Kit needs to know that he’s making the right call. He isn’t abandoning one life for another just because he’s curious. He doesn’t have to, not with Jem and Tessa going out of their way to give him anything he needs, whatever that may be at the moment.

Kit doesn’t wake Jem up, and instead wanders over to the window, looking up at the stars. He hears the call, he feels the pull, but he stays put for now. Because it isn’t a secret to keep hidden any longer - he has support now, and soon he’ll have a path and people to help guide him. There’s a difference, he’s learning, between being able to take care of himself, and needing to take care of himself.

There’s a lot of uncertainty in his future, danger both known and unknown, but one glance back at Jem reminds him that he doesn’t have to run off and try to face it alone.

More importantly, for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t want to.

#kit herondale #jem carstairs #tessa gray #tsc #fanfic #I really hope you like this! #I wanted to explore him feeling a pull but also had a sudden bout of found family feels where I didn't want him to run off on his own #so i fused the two and I hope it turned out alright! #and thanks for sending this prompt in! it was really fun to explore! #also since they never explain a ton about fey magic I decided i wanted it to be very nature-based like a 'the land gives back' sort of vibe #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post #ask rune #anon glamour activated

[quillify-tries-to-talk]

Some of my favorite tropes in media

1. Found family

Welp. Why am I surprised?

In addition to a ton of platonic relationships, there's also a bang-on hilarity in each one of these groups.

Six of Crows (the progression in Kaz and Wylan's dynamic??? Nina and Inej being besties??? Jesper and Inej having a running joke of scheming face lol??? Matthias forgoing his prejudices to team up with Jesper and Kuwei???)

The Hargreeves siblings??? (We're not gonna talk about what's going on between Luther and Allison 💀 but the rest of them 🥺🥺🥺)

2. Ballroom dance scenes

Oh, to be twirling across the dancefloor in the arms of your partner (bonus points if it's your enemy💖) and you can't decide if your heightened breathing is due to the music's tempo or the 🌟tension🌟

Whyyyyyyy did we have to stop balls!?!?!? Whyyyyyyyy???? Are you telling me that we lost the opportunity to wear our most artful dresses and have a night of elegant dancing and food and it was replaced by nightclubs??? T_T

3. The sunshine character actually has problems.

Love, love, love it when the sunshine, always joking, always kind character opens up about their own issues and insecurities yet they don't stop being kind and don't lose their heart just because the world is going to hell

Prime examples: Ron Weasley (au contraire, HP fandom, this guy has one of the best characterizations in the books and y'all just sleep on him because you want your special ones so much), Leo Valdez (my boy repaired a whole dragon alone, dealt with losing his mom, was homeless and yet keeps the atmosphere light and happy and makes hilarious jokes T_T), Inej Ghafa (horribly traumatized, has done things to survive in a brutal world, deserves the world, and yet is so, so, so fiercely kind and compassionate and always there for her friends💖)

4. When the tough, scary one is soft for kids or animals

Nothing is more wholesome than watching a stone-cold badass softening towards a kid or adopting a baby animal or just showing love for their family (Five Hargreeves 🥺). Shows that they still have a bit of their heart unguarded wnd hopeful.

5. Wholesome friendships that just stay friendships + siblings being siblings.

My ace ass hates love triangles with a fiery passion and it's really tiring to see every friendship being shipped left and right or being pushed into love triangle *side-eyes CC*

Lucie Herondale and Cordelia Carstairs are my favorite parabatai duo and I need more content of their friendship and antics pleaseee. I need more of them being a chaotic duo.

Alastair and Cordelia are my favorite brother sister duo, just with the way they address each other and how Cordelia thought about killing him during the demon attacks in ChoG.

Percy Jackson and Grover Underwood. The guy sailed across the Bermuda Triangle to rescue his best friend.

Also the potential we lost with Hermione and Ginny because R*wling couldn't write more than one PoV -_-

But on a happy note, Ron and Harry are my favorite and I love these dorks so much. They really become brothers by the end *gross sobbing*

Aru and her Pandava sisters and the two braincells they share🤦‍♀️😂

Once more, the Hargreeves family going from strangers to dumbass chaotic family in TUA s2😂🤦‍♀️

6. Enemies-to-lovers

Bonus points if they're also academic rivals. Why is this trope not used more? We could explore some great themes on the shit education system.

No one? Fine I'll write a fic myself.

Also, enemies to lovers =/= abusive relationships. Keep that trash away from me where the love interests are manipulative, abusive towards their love interests and then later fall in love with them. My favorite progression goes like this:

Ugh pretentious ass, look at them==>ugh why are we working together?==>why do we work so well as a team!?==>goddammit why are they so nice!?==>I guess we're friends now==>what is this tension!?!==>*notices something pretty about them* uh oh. 😳😳😳

Prime examples: Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Kallias and Alessandra from The Shadows Between Us. Jude and Cardan from TFOTA (I know they're toxic. Would not stan that relationship irl but I loved their development in the trilogy)

7. When the best friends go to an event as each other's date and are mutually pining over each other but are oblivious dumbasses.🤦‍♀️

Bonus points if other people mistake them for a couple and they can't even get out a proper explanation ;)

*whispers* Harry and Ron should've asked each other to the Yule Ball

8. More thoughtfully-written boys in YA

Please move on beyond the bad boy and broody, immortal, muscular warrior trope. Give representation to my PoC, neurodivergent, trans and fat boys. Give boys dark features (I promise they are as entrancing as blue eyes or blonde hair). Make them emotional, make them something other than stoic, make them like teenagers (and not adults playing teens). They deserve the world and well-written role models as much as girls do.

Prime example: Ron Weasley, Jesper, Wylan, Enrique and Hypnos from TGW, and Julian Blackthorn.

I could write essays for Ron but all I'll say is that r*wling did a good job by giving the role of emotional support (that's usually considered a feminine job) to a boy and made him funny and kind-hearted🥺

As for Julian, like I said before ruthless characters being soft for their family make me go T_T

9. Showing feminism with an equal society (as Tricia Levenseller does it), wholesome f/f and m/f friendships, normalizing the presence of LGBTQ people, without trashing men or femininity.

If you have to deliberately create a highly patriarchal society to show off your progressive views and badass female MC, then you're doing feminism wrong :)

Oops my saltiness leaked out in the end 😳

#leighbardugo #leighbardugobooks #ya critical #pride and prejudice #harry potter #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #anti sjm #affection #hope y'all like this #booksbooksbooks #booklover #reading #media #representation in literature #feminism is for everyone #writing positivity #representation #rickriordan #percyjackson #annabeth chase #pro ron weasley #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #cassandraclare #cordeliacarstairs #lucie herondale #the shadowhuter chronicles #shadowhunters #aru shah

[tsc-living]

Kit, Ty, Livvy and Church

Based entirely on this beautiful piece of art by @nairafeather which you can find here!!! 

5,022 words/9 A4 typed pages

Ty had been avoiding Kit for a few days now, ever since the blonde boy had come to the Los Angeles Institute to help the Blackthorn family with their newest under-the-radar investigation; as under the radar it could be with Ty himself a graduated Centurion, and the Consul’s husband lending a helping hand when the High Warlock of Brooklyn and family friend was requested. Even Mark Blackthorn and Cristina Mendoza Rosales, important members of the Alliance, were at the LA Institute to help. Still, it wasn’t entirely sanctioned by the laws. Lex malla, lex nulla Ty thought to himself as he carried a large tome down a sparsely decorated hallway towards a bedroom that had been converted into a study for him before his arrival.

“What are you thinking about?” Livvy asked, floating along beside him as she often did. Ty had long since grown used to the fact that she didn’t leave foot prints as she travelled with him, but it was a new feeling to be relieved about it; he worried seeing how small her footprints would be compared to his would make him sad for he was a man and she still resembled a teenager.

“The family motto, and how apt it always is when the Blackthorns, Carstairs and Herondales are under this roof,” he replied, gesturing around him at the empty hallway to encompass all the occupants of the Institute.

“A bad law is no law,” Livvy mused, a shadow of her vibrant, young smile from her life flickering at the corner of her lips.

“Yes, so they say,” he agreed, pushing open the door to his study, forcing against the resistance of the thick, plush carpet. The room wasn’t very big, but it was comfortable and with the amount of time he had spent in there avoiding Kit, it had become as familiar as his bedroom. There was a Holmes detective cap resting on the mantle of the fireplace in a near mockery of his earlier teen years. Above it, on the light blue wall, was a pin up board that Ty had turned into a detective board; a map, some pages pulled out of books and other clues connected by red wool. Ty had memorised all the contents, all of the clues and the connections. He wasn’t sure it was helping him yet, but he would leave it up until the case was solved.

“What are you going to be doing?” Livvy asked, drifting through the fern coloured couch towards the window that faced the ocean and framed the sun when it began to set.

“I am going to peruse this book in the hopes that I find something of use, and then after the usual dinner hours when Kit will be anywhere except the kitchen, I will go find something to eat,” Ty explained, putting the book on the low coffee table as he passed it on his way to the bookshelf beside the window. The bookshelf sat on top of a sideboard that rested under the window, but he hadn’t yet filled the cupboards with anything. He wasn’t going to be in LA long enough to have any cumbersome personal belongings that he would need to store. The only personal things in the room were the hat, and the branch in a beaker he was trying to preserve with a potion Magnus Bane had made for him. The branch was a small cutting from the tree that grew inside the library at the Scholomance, a room that he had spent more time in than his bedroom for the past 3 or so years.

“Why are you avoiding him?” Livvy asked, still looking outside the window with more longing than he had seen on her face since they had left the Institute. “You told me that the two of you spoke when you portalled in.”

“We did speak, we said hello and then we got invaded by Dru, and Mina started crying. I was promptly guided here by Julian,” Ty said, running his index finger along the spines of some of the books he had collected from the Institute’s library.

“That isn’t ‘talking’ Tiberius,” Livvy said firmly, finally turning to face Ty. He turned to face his twin as well, but he kept his gaze on the books, more interested in them than he was the conversation.

“That is talking, we said ‘hello’,” he told her. He saw her shake her head out of the corner of his eye, her gossamer hair floating around her.

“Shouldn’t you talk about how you feel? About everything you have felt since you met, since he left?” She pressed. Ty looked at her then, his cheeks pink and his stomach starting to ache like it always did when he thought about Kit leaving.

“I don’t want to talk to him, I have nothing to say,” Ty told her. “I don’t even know who he is anymore. I knew Kit when we could look eye to eye, when his hair was so blonde it was nearly white and his skin suntanned. Now his hair is more yellow, his skin pale from England… he doesn’t even sound the same.” Livvy laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  

“Just because you grew taller than he did and that England has less sun than here, doesn’t mean it isn’t still the Kit you knew,” she said. “You are just being difficult.”

“I am difficult Livvy,” Ty said, but he didn’t really care if she paid attention. He slid a bookmark off the sideboard, the red tassel swinging as he walked around her to the sofa, settling against the high back and thick, deep cushions. He rearranged the little throw pillows until he was comfortable enough to pull the book onto his lap and read.

“Do you want to watch the sun set with me?” Livvy asked. Ty was relieved she had dropped her line of questioning about Kit, and he glanced over his shoulder to see that she was looking at the yellow lemon colour of the sky, streaked with blue and orange as the sun drifted closer to the water.

“No, I want to read this book,” he said, turning back around. He got halfway through a paragraph on winged creatures when he heard a soft thud down the hall, followed by padding footsteps. There were no bedrooms in use on this floor; the Blackthorn family had their own wing of the Institute in the opposite direction, and the Carstairs family with Kit were on the floor below this one. Nobody should be up this way, unless they were exploring, or worse… looking for him. The footsteps were not Julian’s and they didn’t sound urgent, which meant Ty didn’t want to be found.

“Where are we going Church?” He heard a muffled, deep, and dreadfully familiar voice on the other side of the door and Ty dropped his head against the back of the sofa with a sigh. There was a scratching noise against the door, a pause, and then a tentative knock. “Hello?” Ty looked over at Livvy, but she was determinedly looking out the window with a real smile on her face. Ty balled his hands into fists for a moment and then slid the book to the coffee table again, the bookmark secured in place.

“Come in Church,” Ty said, pulling the door open only wide enough for the cat to slink in. The mangy, ridiculously old, somewhat magical cat slunk in and began sniffing around like he had most evenings when he joined Ty in the study. However, the cat had never brought with him a guest.

“Oh, Ty!” Kit said sounding genuinely surpised, but Ty was already beginning to close the door on him. Kit put his hand out, arresting the process and Ty contemplated pushing harder. “Wait, don’t shut me out. Please?” Kit asked and Ty released the door, looking down at his bare feet and the hem of his black trousers, plunging his hands into the pocket of his dark grey hoodie.

“What do you want?” Ty asked, the witchlight slowly lightening in the hallway as the sun set further.

“I…” Kit’s feet were bare too and he shuffled against the carpet for a moment, not saying anything. “I just want to talk to you?” He said, but it sounded to Ty like it was more of a question than it was a statement.

“What do you want to talk about?” Ty asked, but he was met with more silence and feet shuffling. “Do you have anything to say at all?” Ty asked the quiet, finally looking up. Kit was dressed in black pyjama pants and a light grey V necked sweater, his collar bones standing out prominently and one of his shoulders was more exposed as the blonde boy tugged on his sleeve. He was still slim and angular, but he had broadened out and grown into the sharp Herondale features they were so known for having.

“Can I come in?” He asked. Ty stood in the doorway for another long moment, considering his options. Technically, yes, he could walk into the room, but did Ty want him to?

“Yes,” he decided, stepping to the side. Kit walked in, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up over his elbows.

“What is this room?” Kit asked as Ty closed the door behind them. “Hey Livvy,” he added, nodding at her.

“Hello Christopher,” she said with a warm smile before turning back towards the now mostly yellow sky.

“This is my study, Emma and Julian set it up for me before I arrived,” Ty explained, hovering on the opposite side of the coffee table, unsure what to do next as Kit sprawled himself out on the couch.

“Is this where you have been disappearing to while you avoid me?” He asked, eyebrows lifting in near perfect arches over his pale blue eyes. Not everything had changed then, his eyes were still the exact same, perhaps even more handsome than he had remembered.

“If you knew I was avoiding you, why did you come and find me?” Ty asked with genuine curiosity, walking around the coffee table to the couch. Kit had mussed all the pillows up and was taking up more space than any one man needed. “Can you please move?”

“Church found me, and I followed him to you,” Kit said, sitting up a little bit, his legs still stretched out. Ty sat down in the corner, tucking his feet onto the soft material, trying in vain not to be leaning his back against Kit’s arm, but this was proving difficult with the other boy sitting in the middle of the two-seater. Kit dropped one foot to the floor and pulled the other closer to his leg, his knee bent at an acute angle and near enough dangling in the air, swaying softly. Ty wondered if he was nervous, with his arm crossed over his stomach and wedged under a pillow that rested between their hips, but Ty couldn’t really tell.

“You didn’t have to follow him,” Ty pointed out, gripping the arm of the sofa. Church hopped up behind him on the back of the sofa, a short purr in his throat and his tongue stuck out. He dragged his fluffy grey tail across Ty’s face and Ty spat it out of his mouth, wiping his face against the neck of his hoodie to get the feeling of the tail off his skin. The cat made another bruup noise in his throat and Ty lifted his head up, eyeing the boy beside him out of the corner of his eye. He could see that Kit was doing the same. He heard Church’s claws dig into the sofa as he stretched. Ty couldn’t uncoil the tension from his body. He wanted to tell Kit to leave, but he didn’t want Kit to leave. He wanted to talk to Kit, but he didn’t know what to say. He wanted Kit to talk, but he didn’t know what he wanted Kit to say, which meant he had no way to prepare for a conversation. He wanted to twist away, but he also liked the warmth radiating off Kit. He wanted to stand up and pace the tension out of his body, but he also wanted to take hold of Kit’s hand. He didn’t know what to do, and he really didn’t like not knowing.

“Should we… I don’t know, like start over or something?” Kit asked quietly, looking away. Ty frowned at him, burying his hand in the pouch pocket of his hoodie.

“What? Like you come in the door again?” Ty asked, “Because I didn’t want you to come in the first time.” Ty hadn’t expected a smile, but the other boy did so anyway, and it was so familiar that Ty felt an ache in his stomach. Another thing that had not changed, the way Ty’s heart raced for a few moments when Kit smiled like that, like he had been surprised by something Ty had said.

“No, I meant like begin again. Forget that we knew each other when we were fifteen, introduce ourselves like we have never met before.”

“Why?” Ty asked, his forehead furrowed.

“So that we can begin again, so there is no history to trip over and no stories that can cause pain. We forget, and we try again,” Kit said, putting both feet on the ground and turning to face Ty who nearly fell sideways when his support moved. He immediately missed the warmth. Ty turned too, facing the other boy, crossing his legs on the sofa. He pulled a pillow out from under his legs and held it on his lap, fiddling with the gold tassels. Did Kit really want to forget their friendship and start all over again?

Ty remembered the first time he met Kit, when he had held a knife to his throat and threatened his life. Kit had been small then, young and scrawny- they both had been. His blonde hair had been dirty, and the bones of his shoulders were so thin Ty had felt them digging into his arm where he held Kit barred. He had been weak, Ty could have broken him and they both knew it, but even then, Kit’s eyes had blazed fiercely, defiantly.

He remembered the intense fascination he had felt when Kit came to the Institute, the want to be close to the new person so strong that Ty had slept on the floor outside his room. The fear that he would leave in the night and Ty would never see him again keeping him awake sometimes.

The time that they sat on a bed laughing with each other, moments before Magnus walked in to tell them something, but Ty couldn’t remember what it was Magnus had said. In that moment, what had been important was that he had made Kit laugh, even if it had been an accident.

There was the time he’d had a panic attack on the roof of that very Institute and Kit had held onto him, grounded him, his sporadic heartbeat slowing down to match the slow, steady beat of Kit.

He remembered standing in the ocean, the water inky with night, the stars and moon picking the silvery bits out of his hair as if they belonged there. It wasn’t the first time that Kit’s eyes had drawn Ty close, but it was the first time Ty let them as he put his arms around Kit’s neck and shivered when their bodies aligned. Kit had held him that night too, his arms around his waist. He had felt stronger then, than the first time they had met, and his heart had beaten more erratically against Ty than it had on the roof.

“No,” Ty whispered and Kit’s face, which had been lit with some kind of hope or happiness, burnt out in disappointment or sadness.

“I understand if you don’t want to know me anymore,” he said quietly, his voice cracking strangely like before someone cries.

“No, I meant,” Ty began, a little louder than a whisper, and he reached out to grab Kit’s wrist before he could stand and flee. “I meant no, I don’t want to forget.” He felt Kit relax into the cushions again, clearly not about to run away, but Ty didn’t let go as the same fascination and longing to be close to him lit in his chest like it had when Kit had come to the Institute in the first place.

“Oh,” Kit breathed as a red blush seeped along his neck and threatened to colour his cheeks. “So, you do want to still know me then?”

“Yes, I do.” Ty still didn’t let go of Kit’s wrist, but he stared at where their skin met. Even after his years in wintery England, Kit was still a shade or two darker than himself. He glanced up at Kit, looking at his shoulders and not his eyes, and he realised with a start that the other boy was holding his breath. “Breathe Kit, you will make yourself dizzy,” he said. Kit let the air out in a whoosh and sucked in a lungful before he spoke.

“I’m already dizzy,” he said, a wide, carefree grin on his face that looked strange after the crushing sadness that had been there a moment before. Ty frowned again, pulling his hand away and reaching for the stele that rested in a mug of pens and two small daggers on the coffee table.

“Are you sick or hurt?” He asked. Kit laughed and reached out for Ty, pulling his sleeve until his empty hand was resting on Kit’s knee.

“I’m not sick no, I’m happy,” he said and Ty looked at him, surveying him, and Kit really did look happy, although his face was pink as if feverish.

“Dizziness is not a sign of happiness,” Ty pointed out. Kit shook his head and very slowly interlaced their fingers where Ty’s hand rested on his leg. Ty let him, the warmth of Kit’s hand already warming the cool tips of his fingers.

“No, but it is a sign of unbelievable amounts of relief and being overwhelmed,” he replied. Ty supposed this was true, he had felt dizzying relief himself in battles, when realising his family was safe after a moment of peril.

“Do you have a plan?” Ty asked and Kit raised his eyebrows a second time, which Ty knew was a request for more information in place of asking a question. “If we aren’t going to start again, and we aren’t going to forget being fifteen… what are we going to do?” Kit was silent for a moment as he considered the question, a small smile dancing along his lips. Ty remembered that look, it was the one that meant he had a million responses to a question and he was trying to think of the one that would either get him into the most trouble, or get him out of it.

“Well, do you want to talk?” He asked. Ty shook his head, he still didn’t really know what he could talk about, he didn’t want to ask why Kit had left in the first place and he didn’t want to know what he had been doing in the meantime. And he really didn’t want to talk about the Scholomance right then, and all he had been talking about since his arrival was the investigation, but he didn’t want to talk about that right then either. “Do you want to sit here in silence and hold my hand?” Kit asked, his voice light. Ty was watching his lips as he spoke. He did want to sit there, and he did want to hold Kit’s hand.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, Julian’s lessons from his childhood reminding him that not everyone likes to be touched or crowded. Kit’s eyes went really wide and he looked as if he was holding his breath again, but he nodded. Ty reached out his empty hand as Kit turned to sit cross legged facing him, mirror images of each other. He closed his eyes, which did make Ty feel less tense and nervous, and let his curiosity grow. Ty touched his bare forearm first, the pulse at his wrist jumping against his fingers. He trailed his fingers against the soft skin of his inner forearm until he met the polyester material of his sweater, the wrinkles and ridges from where it bunched above his elbow smoothing down under his touch. Ty wanted to feel Kit, he wanted to know which parts of him were the softest to touch, which parts made him smile. Mostly he just wanted to understand Kit, he wanted to know him, and feel that he really was there, after years of his absence.

His fingers dipped at the curve of his collarbones, and he felt goose bumps rise along the skin of Kit’s neck as his fingers traced up the side. Kit shivered, but he smiled.

“It’s okay,” he whispered when Ty took his hand away. He put it back, this time feeling his pulse point in his neck and then up to his jaw, his cheek, curls of his blonde hair wrapping around Ty’s fingers. He traced his nose, felt the tickle of his blonde eyelashes, the shape of his lips and the lobe of his ear before sliding up into his hair. Kit’s breathing had long begun to come out in softer, but louder little gasps and Livvy blinked out of the room with a roll of her eyes and a grin on her face.

“You’re real,” Ty confirmed, keeping his hand curled into the back of his hair, their faces closer than they had been since that night in the water. Kit opened his eyes, blue meeting grey, and Ty felt the intensity of his gaze and he looked away. He looked down. Kit’s lips were parted and Ty realised that the sun had completely set and the room was being lit only by a single witchlight on the desk, and the moon.

“I’m real,” Kit agreed, sitting completely still. He swallowed, loudly and visibly, his lips closing for a moment before parting again.

Ty had thought about kissing Kit before. When they had been in the water, when they had been laughing on the bed, when they were walking shoulder to shoulder on a mission, the night before he had tried to raise Livvy from the dead… and many, many times when he had been alone at the Scholomance and ached for the boy he had grown so used to.

“Do we need to talk?” Ty asked. Kit licked his lips and shook his head very slowly.

“Not right now.” He sounded breathless, like he had been running for a very long time and had only just stopped.

“Good,” Ty decided and closed the gap between their lips. Kit gasped, his hand tightening around Ty’s nearly painfully and for a long, drawn out moment, Kit didn’t kiss him back. And then the moment passed and Kit shook his hand free, putting his hand against the side of Ty’s neck, his thumb against his cheek, and he kissed him. Ty’s face went bright red with heat and his newly freed hand followed Kit’s to his own cheek, their lips moving gently together, carefully. There was an ache in Ty’s lower stomach, warm and languorous as it spread through his body. He had never kissed anyone before, had never wanted to kiss anyone expect Kit, he didn’t really know what he was doing, he just knew that he liked it. Kit untucked his feet from under his knees and lay back, pulling Ty with him by the front of his hoodie, their legs entwined with cushions along the length of the sofa. Kit smiled into the kiss and used one of his hands to fish for a pillow and put it under his head, and Ty used the pause to catch his breath and touch his kiss swollen lips. Kit pushed a lock of black hair off his forehead, but his gaze was snagged by something over Ty’s shoulder.

“You bloody cat,” Kit said, fishing for another pillow and throwing it at the back of the chair beneath him, but Church didn’t move, just flicked his tail lazily.

“He brought you to me,” Ty said, shifting to align their bodies more comfortably. Kit’s hand rested lightly on the small of his back.

“Because you’ve been avoiding me for nearly a week,” Kit pointed out, touching his nose to Ty’s. Ty closed his eyes and rubbed his face against the warm, soft skin of the side of his neck.

“I didn’t know what to say to you,” he said against him. Kit’s other arm came around him and held him tightly, enough to feel secure but not enough to hurt or restrict.

“Apparently we don’t need to say anything,” he whispered, his chest vibrating under Ty as he spoke.

“I wish you hadn’t left,” Ty said. Kit hugged him a little bit tighter for a moment, before relaxing his grip again and speaking.

“I wish I hadn’t either, but I also know that I had to. Tessa, Jem, and little Mina… they’re my family Ty and with them I got to have a home, and I got to train like a Shadowhunter, and I got to be loved by parents.” Kit knew that what he said was true, but he couldn’t stop the pain in his chest from flowering at the memory. “I may have been running away from this,” Kit whispered and then Ty felt him kiss the top of his head, “Of how I felt for you and the fear that you didn’t feel the same way back… but what I found was a family of my own.”

“You didn’t say goodbye,” Ty pointed out, feeling wounded still. Kit’s chest deflated with a long sigh.

“I know, and I should have, and if I hadn’t been running away from how I felt about you, I would have said goodbye,” he said. Ty knew it didn’t really change what had happened, nothing would, but it did make him feel a little better to know that Kit had at least thought about it. “I loved you, even then, and I was so terrified of it,” he said. “And I was so hurt that you didn’t love me back.” His voice had dropped to a whisper. Ty put his palms into the cushion on either side of Kit and pushed up to look down at him, feeling annoyed.

“I did love you though,” Ty said, pointing out a fact he thought had been obvious. “You should have talked to me,” he added. Kit had the audacity to laugh.

“I think we were busy thinking about a lot of other things,” he said, “like Livvy and the war at Brocelind and… everything.” He was looking up at Ty from under his eyelashes, keeping a layer between direct eye contact, but still looking at each other.

“I know,” Ty agreed. “I also know that I was not easy to talk to at the time, Livvy has explained what it must have been like to know me while I was grieving.” Kit put his hand on Ty’s cheek too lightly so Ty pressed against his palm.

“You were in a lot of pain, and I was so self-absorbed….” Kit sighed and then smiled, “I guess we found a moment to talk,” he added. Ty nodded, an anxiety bubble he hadn’t realised was there leaving his chest and giving him room to breathe. He inhaled deeply and then lowered himself down again, supporting himself just enough to kiss the other boy without squishing their mouths. Kit gasped as he had the first time, almost as if surprised he was getting kissed again. Kit wrapped his legs around Ty, the pressure new and strange, but not unwelcome and Kit smiled into the kiss. Ty bit his lip gently, feeling as if he was punishing him for taking the kiss away, but the bite just made another, newer noise escape Kit’s mouth. Ty laughed and smoothed his blonde hair off his forehead.

“I have always thought you were beautiful, but you did grow into your features,” Ty told him. Kit smiled and shook his head, some of the blonde locks falling forward again.

“Thanks Ty,” he said and leant up to kiss him quickly. “Can I as you something?” He murmured, resting his head back again.

“Of course,” Ty said, waiting patiently.

“What happens now?” He asked. Ty sat up, properly this time, and Kit tucked his feet back under him again, sitting up as well.

“What do you mean?” Ty asked.

“What happens now? Do we just… be together like Emma and Julian or like Jace and Clary?” He asked. “Or do we just sneak around and turn this room into a make-out den?”

“I don’t want my study to be turned into a secret rendezvous,” Ty said. “Although I don’t mind if you come and distract me sometimes.”

“I can do that,” Kit said with a grin.

“I assumed as much,” Ty said seriously. “But I don’t think we need to be together like my brother and Emma, or Jace and Clary.” Kit tilted his head, waiting for more, or perhaps just thinking, but Ty had more to say. “We don’t need to be together like them, because we will be together like us.”

“I like that answer,” Kit agreed, reaching for Ty’s hand. Ty let him take it, but there was a long, pointed grumble in his stomach, reminding him that it was past dinner time. Kit laughed and stood more gracefully that Ty had ever seen him move, pulling Ty up with him. “Let’s go get something to eat,” he said. Ty nodded, following Kit to the door, but Church was the first one out of the room and scampering down the hallway with his tail in a question mark as he went. He had clearly done his job for the evening.

#kitty #kitty blackdale #twp #tda #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #livvy blackthorn #ghost!livvy #fanfiction

[cristinablackthornkingson]

Shadowhunters Short Story #67. Alastair and Cordelia meet their little sibling.

(This was written way back in March before I finished Chain of Gold, so there may be some minor inconsistencies with the plot.) 

CW/TW: Alcoholism. 

It is a cool October day in 1903, when Cordelia and Alastair Carstairs get to meet their baby sister for the first time.

It has only been 3 months since Cordelia found out her mother was expecting, and ever since she has been eagerly awaiting the arrival of her little brother or sister. Alastair has also been excited, but he has not shown it in the same way as Cordelia. Cordelia and Alastair’s friends are all eager to meet the newest little Carstairs too, especially Lucie who has always wanted a little brother or sister, and now will not stop pestering Tessa and Will to have a baby.

Elias stood trial a few weeks ago, but before he did Cordelia explained to Charlotte- The Consul- about his alcoholism and how he needs medical attention and help more than a prison cell. Thankfully Charlotte was extremely understanding, seeing as her Matthew is clearly an alcoholic too and she would never want to see him put in prison instead of being given the help he clearly needs. Now Elias is still in Idris, in the Basilas, receiving the right treatment. He has written a few letters to Sona and the children, and will hopefully be able to come visit the new baby soon.

Sona had gone into labor late last night and while Cordelia stayed with her mother, Alastair rushed to the London Institute to have them summon The Silent Brothers.

Cordelia had been delighted when Jem arrived along with a Clave midwife, she knew Jem would take good care of her mama and little brother or sister.

Now it has been approximately 8 hours since Sona went into labor, and Cordelia and Alastair are both waiting in the living room, trying their best to stay awake. Alastair is reading a mundane newspaper and Cordelia is attempting to stay awake while reading Layla and Majnun, though she is not having much luck and keeps dozing off.

After dozing off for about the 8th time, Cordelia is jerked awake by a familiar voice speaking in her mind.

Cordelia, Alastair.

Cordelia and Alastair both look up to see the robed figure of Jem, standing in the doorway to the living room.

“Jem?” Cordelia asks, pushing herself up in the armchair.

Yes Cordelia, would you two like to come meet your little sister?

“Sister? It’s a girl?” Cordelia asks in a breathy tone. She would have been happy no matter what, she would have been thrilled to have another brother, but secretly the idea of not being the only girl anymore is quite nice.

Yes, a very healthy little girl. She and your mother are doing very well, and I believe they are both eager to see you. Would you like to come meet her? Jem asks.

Both teenagers leap from their seats and eagerly follow Jem upstairs and down the hall to their mother’s room. When they reach the door to Sona’s room, Jem tells them

I will wait out here to allow you four some privacy, I will be right here if you need me.

Cordelia and Alastair nod, before Alastair softly knocks on the door before opening it and walking in with Cordelia right behind him.

Straight away they see their mother sitting up in bed in a pale pink nightgown and matching dressing gown, her roosari sitting perfectly as always. In Sona’s arms is a little bundle of pink and white blankets, and Sona is gazing lovingly down at the bundle, though she looks up when she hears the door open, and smiles lovingly at her eldest two children.

“Hello my loves, come meet your sister.” Sona softly says, beckoning them over. Cordelia and Alastair make their way over to their mother’s bed, both of them sinking into chairs that have been placed on either side of the bed. Cordelia eagerly leans forward to look at her baby sister.

The baby has brown skin, the same shade as Cordelia and Alastair, she is almost completely bald expect for a few tufts of dark black hair, the same shade Alastair’s is naturally, when he does not dye it, and big black eyes just like Cordelia’s. Immediately Cordelia falls completely and hopelessly in love with her sister, feeling a huge rush of love and a fierce desire to protect her at all costs. She can now understand why Alastair is so protective of her, why Jamie is so protective of Lucie, why Eugenia is so protective of Thomas and why Anna is so fiercely protective of Christopher and Alexander.

“Oh mama, she is so perfect.” Cordelia says in a tight tone, as she feels the tears well up in her eyes.

“Layla, are you crying?” Alastair asks in a tone of disbelief. Why would Cordelia be crying at such a happy moment?

“I-I... y-yes b-but I-I don’t u-understand why, I-I’m so h-happy!” Cordelia hiccups as she tries to control her tears, it makes no sense for her to be sobbing her eyes out at one of the happiest moments of her life.

“Oh khoshgelam, sometimes you can be so overwhelmed by happiness that you cry, it’s alright Layla, would you like to hold your sister?” Sona softly asks, brushing away Cordelia’s tears. Cordelia sniffles and nods eagerly. Sona helps her position her arms before carefully lowering the baby into them.

“Oh, hello baby, my sweet baby sister. I love you.” Cordelia says in a soft, teary tone, bending to press a kiss to the baby’s forehead.

“Have you decided on a name for her mama?” Alastair asks.

“Yes I have, her name is Daria Esta Carstairs.” Sona gently says, brushing her finger’s over the baby’s few tufts of dark hair.

“Oh that is so beautiful! It suits her.” Cordelia exclaims, gazing down at her sister, never wanting to let her go. “I love you Daria.”

“How do you feel mama, is there anything I can do for you or get you?” Alastair asks. Unknown to all but his family, Alastair is a complete mama’s boy and always has been, as a little boy he always clung to his mother’s skirts and followed her around, while Cordelia has always been more of a daddy’s girl, wanting her father to tell her stories about Cortana and the time he slayed Yanluo. The two siblings have remained much the same, Cordelia is still a complete daddy’s girl and Alastair is still a complete mama’s boy.

“No  Aziz-e delam, I am fine thank you.” Sona says, placing a hand on Alastair’s cheek and smiling at him.

“Are you sure?” Alastair asks, eager to be of some help to his mother. He hated being completely useless and unable to help while she was in labor, now he wants to do whatever he can to help her.

“I am sure Alastair Joon, thank you, you need not worry about me, I have done this three times now, I shall be fine.” Sona assures her son ,squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“Alright mama. Cordelia, let me hold the baby now!” Alastair says, turning his gaze on Cordelia, who is still cooing and fussing over little Daria.

“Well I would have had you asked nicely, now I will not. One thing you need to learn sweet Daria, is that Alastair is very, very annoying, I am afraid we just have to put up with him, I have asked many times if we can trade him for a puppy but alas, mama and papa seem instant to keep him, Angel knows why.” Cordelia quietly says, slowly rocking her sister back and forth, as Alastair glares at her.

“Cordelia, let your brother hold Daria, honestly I do not know how I am going to cope with three of you.” Sona says. Begrudgingly Cordelia passes Daria to Alastair, who holds her with an air of expertise and comfort.

“Poor little thing looks just like Cordelia.” He says, adjusting the blankets around the baby’s face, smug in the knowledge that Cordelia cannot hit him or throw something at him while he is holding the baby, he can tease her relentlessly for the next few years and be completely safe, as long as he is holding the baby.

“Mama, are you sure we cannot trade Alastair for a dog?” Cordelia asks, looking at her mother, who smiles back and brushes Cordelia’s hair back from her face.

“Quiet sure Azizakam, quiet sure.”

About 40 minutes later, little Daria wakes up crying and fussing, clearly in need of feeding, so Cordelia and Alastair decide to wish their mother and sister a goodnight, and finally head to bed, after a very long day.

A week later, with permission from Sona and to the delight of Cordelia, Tessa, Will, Jamie and Lucie call around to meet little Daria.

Currently they are all gathered in the drawing room in Cirenworth, fussing over the baby. The only ones who are not there are Elias (who is still in Idris) and Alastair who left for London this morning, to go see Charles and help he and Grace with wedding arrangements.

Currently Lucie is holding little Daria and seems happier than she has ever been, no one doubts that she would sneak her home if she could get away with it.

“Oh she is just so adorable!” Lucie exclaims, as Daria wraps her tiny hand around Lucie’s finger. “Oh mama, papa, are you sure you don’t want another baby?” Lucie adds in a pleading tone, looking at her parents with begging blue eyes full of hope.

“Quiet sure Lucie, after my pregnancy with you I am quiet done, you never let me sleep a wink for about 5 months, and I was sick through the whole pregnancy, then you decided to be late, so late that I had to be induced, no my love I am quiet done with pregnancy.” Tessa laughs, though it is easy to laugh at now, her pregnancy with Lucie was a total nightmare, after she was born, Tessa and Will agreed that they did not want to risk Tessa’s health in such a way again, and would not have anymore children.

“Oh but you could adopt! Papa you always said you wanted a big family because you and mama came from such small families.” Lucie points out.

“Lucie my dear, adoption is not as simple as you seem to think, we could try to adopt but there is no guarantee we would end up with a baby, and we are quiet content with you and your brother, and having a big family is not only limited to having many children, I have you two, your mother, your aunt Cecily, Anna, Kit and Alexander, and angel forgive me, I even have your Uncle Gabriel and Uncle Gideon, as well as your Aunt Sophie, and Thomas and Eugenia, and of course there is your Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Henry, and Matthew and Charles, and now Cordelia and Alastair too.” Will gently explains. He understands Lucie’s desire for a little sibling, but he and Tessa have their hands full with her and Jamie, and all their nieces and nephews, who they love as their own.

Lucie sighs and looks back down at baby Daria.

“I know papa, I would just love to have a little brother or sister.” Lucie says in a longing tone.

“Oh Lulu, you would not be saying that if you did have a little brother or sister, trust me, I have your Aunt Cecily and she drives me absolutely mad at the best of times.” Will says, putting an arm around his daughter’s shoulders and kissing her temple. Lucie is such a sweet and happy girl, and has Will wrapped around her little finger, and has done since the moment she was born. It kills him not to be able to give her anything and everything she wants, but having another baby would be too unfair and harsh on Tessa, and as much as Will loves his daughter, he adores his wife too and would never want to do anything to compromise her.

Little does anyone know, that over 200 years later, Lucie finally gets her wish for a little brother or sister, when in March of 2013, Tessa gives birth to her and Jem’s first daughter, little Wilhelmina Yiqiang Ke Carstairs.

Lucie’s spirit often visits her little sister, keeping her company when she wakes up from her naps so Jem and her mother can rest some more, telling her stories about the adventures she and Jamie, Matthew, Thomas, Christopher and Cordelia went on when they were teenagers. Lucie adores her baby sister just as much as Cordelia and Alistair adored little baby Evie.

One night, as Lucie stands in Mina’s nursery, watching her sleep peacefully, she feels someone next to her, and looks over to see her father, watching Mina with the same love he always watched Lucie and James with. Will puts an arm around his daughter and holds her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“So what do you think Lulu? Is being a big sister everything you thought it would be?” He softly asks. Lucie nods.

“Yes, and more. I love Mina so much it hurts, and I would do absolutely anything for her.”

“Just as Jamie would for you and I would for you Aunt Cecily, you are officially a member of the big sibling club, like you always wanted. Come on, let's leave this little one to sleep.” Will softly says. Lucie nods, but before leaving, she walks over to the crib, and using all her power she manages to reach down and brush a hand over Mina’s thick dark hair, and press a kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll see you soon sweet baby sister, I love you.”

She then turns and follows her father, rejoining the rest of their family and loved ones in the afterlife, watching over and protecting Tessa, Jem, Mina and Kit.

#Cordelia Carstairs #alastair carstairs #sona carstairs #elias carstairs #baby carstairs #jem carstairs #james carstairs #Brother Zachariah #will herondale #tessa gray #WillxTessa #james herondale #lucie herondale #charlotte fairchild #henry branwell #Matthew Fairchild #charles fairchild #grace blackthorn #Cecily Herondale #Cecily Lightwood #gabriel lightwood #anna lightwood #christopher lightwood #alexander lightwood #sophie collins #sophie lightwood #barbara lightwood #eugenia lightwood #thomas lightwood #gideon lightwood

[propsandmayhems]

Hiiii first of all, thanks for following me!!! (I'm also a WH lovebot lol) Can I have 59. “I want you to be proud of yourself. I want you to believe that you’re good enough because you are. You’re so amazing.” with James and Cordelia? 😊

thank YOU for following me back!! if you ever want to scream about will my inbox is always open lol. this got a bit long I got carried away - i hope you enjoy!! 

“I want you to be proud of yourself. I want you to believe that you’re good enough because you are. You’re so amazing.”

James Herondale x Cordelia Carstairs 

Cordelia woke to the weight on the right side of the bed shifting; she recognized it as her husband pushing himself up from their shared mattress. The room was pitch black and her eyes adjusted to the darkness just in time to see James silently slip out of the room. With a sigh, she pushed the coverlet off and lifted herself from the soft embrace of the bed, willing the witchlight lamp on her bedside table to turn on. Now sitting on the edge of the mattress, bathed in the soft glow of witchlight, she reached across the bed to grab James’ watch from his nightstand. Four A.M., Cordelia groaned inwardly. This was the third time this week James had awoken in the middle of the night, the previous times Cordelia had left him to have some time to himself. Tonight, she rose from the bed and wrapped herself in her dressing gown, following her husband downstairs. 

They were three months into their second year sharing this home. The first year was extremely different from this one, due to many factors. First, their marriage was a sham, organized just to protect Cordelia’s reputation from ruin amongst the Enclave. Unbeknownst to him, James’s emotions had been controlled by a bracelet given to him by Grace Blackthorn. Lucie had befriended Grace in their pursuit to bring back Grace’s brother from the dead, and when she found out Grace was using her brother, she forced Grace to remove the bracelet. It took a while, but after he was released from the hold of the bracelet, James came to realize he loved Cordelia as she loved him. Secondly, James’s grandfather, Belial, had wreaked havoc on London, testing the abilities and fortitude of shadowhunters throughout England. Many had lost their lives fighting against Belial and James couldn’t help but blame himself. With help from his family and parabatai and Cordelia, James had slowly begun to heal.

Cordelia took a guess that she could find James in the library and she was correct, entering to him kneeling in front of the fireplace, stirring up the coals with a poker. The library of their home was nowhere near as extravagant as the one in the London Institute that James had grown up reading in, but it had still quickly become his favorite room in the house. Most of the furniture was selected by James - who had surprisingly good taste - and he rapidly filled the shelves that lined the room with mundane novels and texts on demons and old tomes written completely in Latin. Of course, Cordelia also contributed some of her favorite Persian literature. James picked up on the language rather fast, even impressing her mother with a short conversation entirely in Persian during their last dinner together. 

Cordelia watched by the doorway as James tossed a match into the fireplace. It wasn’t particularly cold enough to need a fire - being that strange time of spring when it’s too chilly without a coat but too hot with one on - but James always loved to read to the soft crackle of a fire humming in the background. She supposed this was another habit picked up from his growing up in the Institute; the big, drafty building always had fires burning in all the rooms no matter what season it was. 

Content that the fire was successfully started, James pushed himself up from the fireplace. Turning to make his way to the sofa he always stretched out on while he read, he stopped when he noticed Cordelia watching him from across the room. “Oh - er - hi,” he began, quietly, as if there was anyone else in the house to wake. “I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I would come down here and read.” His eyes flicked to the ground and he scratched the back of his neck above the collar of his pajama shirt. He was wearing the set she picked up for him last month while out shopping with Lucie; they were made of soft cotton in a deep burgundy, oftest by a thick cream-colored vertical stripe. Cordelia thought the dark red color would offset his eyes and had been correct, although, James’s eyes would shine beautifully regardless of what color he was wearing. 

“I know, it’s okay,” she started, moving further into the room. She reached him and took one of his hands in hers, “this is the third time this week you’ve woke in the middle of the night, James, is everything alright?”  

“Yes, Daisy, of course,” he responded, sounding as if he was forcing out his words. Facing away from the fire, his face was shadowed, but Cordelia thought she could see remnants of tears on the skin of his cheeks. Reaching up to cup his face in her hands, she swiped her thumb across his cheekbones and felt wetness. He tried to pull away from her, but she tightened her hold on his face. 

“James, eshgham, please talk to me. What is burdening your mind?” 

He looked to her with wide eyes, the yellow shining a deep gold in the dim light of the room. “Daisy… my Daisy, I simply do not deserve you.” 

She gasped, “how can you say that? Have I not made it clear that I have only ever loved you, James Herondale?” 

He searched her face timidly, “you have, I- I just don’t understand it. You could do so much better than me” 

Moving her hands from his face, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the sofa. Sitting him down, she curled up next to him, taking his hands in hers, and faced him. He stared straight forward into the fire, watching the flames intently. “There is no reason for you to ever feel like you do not deserve me. I want you to believe that you’re good enough because you are.” 

Her words caused him to finally turn his head to her, golden eyes shining with unspilt tears. She pushed on, “You are so amazing, James. I know there are things that trouble you that my love alone cannot heal, but I want you to be proud of yourself. I want you to be proud of the son that you are, the brother that you are, the husband that you are. Most importantly, I want you to be proud of the Shadowhunter that you are, because there will never be anyone else like you.”

He blinked at her, letting the tears finally fall, and wordlessly gathered her into an embrace. They held each other until the fire burned down low in the hearth and James never left their bed in the middle of the night again.

#jordelia #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #tlh #the last hours #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #purplebass #carley writes

[bytheangell]

Happiness Looks Good on You

Flufftober Day 8: Laughter (Read on AO3)

Cordelia isn’t supposed to be home this early. She had plans to meet with Anna which fell through, and after spending a bit of time trying to get in touch with James or Lucie or any of the others it seems as if everyone is busy for the day - everyone except for her, now.

Resigned to go back home and find some way to entertain herself, Cordelia slipped silently in through the front door, not bothering to announce her arrival as she knew her family was out for the day. At least, they were meant to be. Instead of finding herself greeted by the silence of an empty home, Cordelia hears the sound of laughter echoing down the hallway.

Laughter on its own is hardly a strange sound to encounter in a home, even the Carstairs home, plagued as it’s been lately with troubles and rumors and doubt. But she recognizes the sound of Alastair’s voice, and it catches her entirely off-guard. His voice is raised, but not in the way it sounds when he’s trying to command attention or convey anger; it’s loud because it’s unguarded and unrestrained, as carefree as the laughter that follows his words once more. Cordelia isn’t sure she’s ever heard her brother laugh like that, without it either sounding forced for pleasantries or cut short to remain dignified. This is the first time in a very long time she’s heard Alastair so full of pure, uninhibited joy.

She doesn’t want to eavesdrop again, not like the last time, but her curiosity is piqued and she simply needs to know what’s making her brother so happy. It isn’t spying if she walks by an open door in her own home, she justifies, creeping her way silently up the stairs towards the sound of Alastair’s voice.

Except her brother isn’t alone. WHich she knew, rationally, because if he were alone and laughing like that to himself she would be quite worried. The voice she hears the closer she gets is familiar, but it takes her a moment to place it. Being the quieter of the infamous quartet of Nephilim, it takes her longer to place the second voice as Thomas’.

That serves as Cordelia’s second shock, because she knows of the strain between the Merry Thieves and her brother, for things that happened at the Academy, and while she’s noticed that Thomas is always kind to him, or at least the kindest of the lot, she hadn’t realized they were particularly close. Certainly not this close.

She can see them now, through the open doorway at the far end of the hall - sitting next to one another on the floor of Alastair’s room, so engrossed in one another that they don’t notice her at all. They aren’t doing anything more than talking, sitting so their sides press against one another, with Alastair leaning to rest his head on Thomas’ shoulder after his laughter settles. Thomas smiles a soft, pleasantly surprised smile, as if proud of himself for saying something that made Alastair nearly giddy in response, and as Alastair’s head hits his shoulder Thomas snakes his arm behind Alastair’s back and up to absentmindedly play with a strand of his hair as they continue talking.

She has two choices: if she’s to stay in the house she must make her presence known, because she meant what she said when she promised Alastair she wouldn’t spy on him again, and remaining here without his knowledge, overhearing words said when they thought they were alone, would be betraying that promise. Or, she could sneak away while they’re still distracted, and give Alastair the day of privacy he expected when he invited Thomas over.

Honestly, it isn’t a choice at all. Cordelia knows her brother well enough to be certain that once he knows she’s there he’ll likely send Thomas away entirely. She doesn’t want that. Cordelia never wants the sound of Alastair’s carefree laughter and the elation that causes it to end.

She wishes desperately that Alastair would be comfortable enough to simply continue his day with Thomas despite her presence, and hopefully one day he will be. Until then, she slips quietly back down the hall and out the front door, content to keep herself entertained in the city for a few hours longer.

#thomastair #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #tsc #tlh #CHoG #i've been itching to write a little outsider POV #and I hope this came out well! <3 #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #flufftober 2020