#( ∝ ; tes yeux d'océan cette tragédie douce amère ; headcanon

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AESTHETIC MEME + Jace & Maryse

requested by @runesanddeath <3 

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my favourite concept is people realising just how fucking young maryse is. like in main verse she's 34. she's 34 and has four children who are 18, 16 & 9. this woman had her first child at 16 years old, and most people in her life don't really seem to realise that. which is wild to me because how can you not? like how can you not see the youth behind her eyes, the way she pushes herself to be strict and stoic in order to fit in and deal with the responsibilities she has to shoulder??? my favourite concept is not only people realising this, but her own children realising just how young she is. realising how she didn't get to be a teenager, that she became a wife at 15, a mother at 16, and head of the institute at 17.

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Okay not to be controversial but: Jace not being familiar with French until he went to live with the Lightwoods! ! ! ! When he arrived, he expected to be greeted by the stereotypical New Yoker accent, but what he got were British and French ones instead. He was constantly surrounded by French, Alec and Izzy breaking into whole conversations and he would be standing there like "????? guys???? come on" Maryse would give orders in French, and at first it was all so disconcerting, until he realised he could understand them. It took him a little while to speak with them in French, but when it happen it was a very emotional thing. Maryse had woken him up from a nightmare, and maybe it could be the first time he called her "mom" before hugging her and babbling about his dream, the thing was he did it in French. Because that's the language he learnt to associate with family, and safety and Maryse.

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it’s me, back at it again with another one shot about Maryse & her kiddos ;/ this one was inspired by this picture of liv tyler uwu 

By The Shore

      It was rare that she got to enjoy a day like that; the sun shining so brightly, the lack of duties at the institute. A day where she could be Maryse Lightwood, 21 and mother of two bright little children. Even more of a rarity was her presence at the beach. Being surrounded by mundanes was never something Maryse had enjoyed, but that particular afternoon it barely registered in her mind.

     Sat in the warm sand, sporting denim shorts and a simple black shirt, her sky-blue eyes fixed on her children. Three-year-old Isabelle toddling around — her chubby legs carrying her to where her brave little heart desired. Her squeals of delight when the gentle waves surrounded her tiny feet healed Maryse’s weary soul.

     Alexander; her sweet and loving Alexander, who even at the tender age of five already carried the role of older brother well, taking care of Izzy as she explored the beach, keeping her away from deep water. His own giggles echoing around loud enough for Maryse to hear. It was good to watch her children be able to act like that. To forget about the future duties they would have — to forget about their holy mission for some time in order to be just children.

     There was nothing she wouldn’t do for them. Nothing was off limits if it meant they would be safe, they would be happy. Maryse had had to give up on her own childhood for the sake of her family name, but that would not happen to her children. She refused. She wouldn’t force any of them to marry before they were absolute ready for it, she wouldn’t allow any of them to be forced into doing things they did not understand or even want to do. And if she had to endure the wrath of the Clave and the disapproval of her husband than so it would be.

     Time tended to go by quite fast when one was enjoying what they were doing, and that’s how Maryse realised that she had spent the whole afternoon watching her babies rolling in the sand, chasing around each other and laughing in utter childlike glee. Her heart longed for more moments like this, where she could just watch them be children. Away from the imposing walls of the Institute and away from the looming shadow of the Lightwood name over their tiny shoulders.

     The sun was still a few moments from setting, its light shining a lovely yellowish hue over the white sand, making it golden. The seawater reflecting its light and glowing. Slowly Maryse parted her knees a bit, extending her arms out.

     “Alec! Izzy! Come on, it’s time to go home now” she called out, pride filling her up when both young children looked at her immediately. They were so good. Soon they were both running to her, the Lightwood Matriarch knowing fully well what would happen.

     In less than seconds, she had an arm full of two very wet and very sandy children. “By the Angel, you two are filthy.” She laughed, hugging them closer to her body, not caring about her clothes. Especially not when Isabelle giggled and Alexander snuggled closer to her, resting his little head on her shoulder. Angel, she loved them. Loved them more than she’d ever love anyone or anything.

     “Did you have fun, darling?” Maryse asked the sleepy little boy in her arms, gently adjusting her grip on him without disturbing Izzy. She placed a kiss on the crown of his head, not minding the salt water or the sand.

     “Yeah, I taught Izzy how to jump over the waves…” he mumbled, and Maryse could hear the smile in his gentle voice, the sheer fondness he had for his little sister. “Then we went seashell hunting, but couldn’t find any really pretty ones…” he trailed off, blinking slowly.

     “Oh, I’m sure next time you’ll find one. Then you can take it back to Hodge, or your father.” She smiled, trying to imagine what Starkweather’s face would look like upon receiving such an innocent gift.

     “And what about you, my little cherub? Did you have fun today?”

     That’s when little Isabelle started babbling in broken French about seashells and jumping waves. Then, thrusting her little hand out, she showed both her brother and mother the tiny shell there, its small and iridescent form looking even more delicate in her chubby hand.

     “Would you look at that? Good job, Izzy.” She praised, gently poking the girl’s button nose, smiling as she scrunched it and laughed. “Are you going to give it to daddy?” The woman inquired, curious about her daughter’s intent. Isabelle may be only three years old but her big brown eyes shine with intelligence beyond her years.

     “No, Mamma…” she shook her head, dark brown curls billowing around her, sand flying off with the movement. “I give to Alec!” Her baby exclaimed happily, the English accented in her little voice. The boy in her arms stirred, and smiled sleepily at his baby sister. “Thanks, Iz. I love it.” And gently, he took the tiny seashell from her.

     Maryse lives for these moments, for these interactions with her children. They were truly all she had, and she can’t stand the thought of not being with them. Slowly, and with a bit of struggle, Maryse managed to get up. Still holding both children in her arms. “Alright angels, let’s get you to home. You’re in dire need of a bath and then a nap.”

     She heard Alexander groan a soft “No baths, just nap.” And it was her turn to laugh, a sleepy Alexander was a reluctant Alexander. Still she would never allow them to go to bed covered in sand and salt water. Isabelle as awake as ever, mimicked her brother with a light squeal of “No bath!” Causing Maryse to laugh even more.

     “Yes, bath. Unless you want Hodge to mistake you for nixies, because that’s what you two look like.”

     Their way back to the Institute was spent in a mess of laughter, chatter and very solid arguments of a five-year-old about how young Shadowhunters couldn’t be nixies. Maybe not, but as she tucked them in their beds after giving them that much needed bath, Maryse knew both her children heard the calling of the ocean just as much as she did.

     And if allowed, they would spend their lives by the shore. Just as she’d always hoped she had, just as she never would.

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BOLD ALL THAT APPLY   /   MULTIPLE INTELLIGENCES  .

VERBAL / LINGUISTIC.   enjoys writing,   good at editing,   avid reader,   uses fancy words,   enjoys word games,   speaks of what they read,   remembers quotes,   likes puns and rhymes,   enjoys foreign languages.

MUSICAL :   highly auditory,   can memorize songs,   has good rhythm,   notices off-key notes,   enjoys different sounds,  likes to sing,  whistles or taps foot,   talented with instruments,   gifted at composing,   sensitive to noise.

LOGICAL / MATHEMATICAL: rational,   objective,   good at strategy games,   likes numbers,   seeks precision,   grasps complex data,   factual,   logical,   good at math,   appreciates science.

INTRAPERSONAL :   introvert,   intuitive,   self-aware,  spends time reflecting,   likes to learn about self,  philosophical, independent,   enjoys journaling,   works well alone,  interested in self-employment.

INTERPERSONAL :  extrovert,  enjoys social events,   loves crowds,   empathetic,   enjoys teaching others,   has many friends,   enjoys team sports,   counsels others,   loves meeting new people,   sensitive to others.

VISUAL / SPATIAL :   notices colors and shapes,   can visualize anything, good at visual puzzles,   enjoys geometry,   loves to draw and paint,   enjoys photography,   appreciates books with pictures,   good with directions, remembers places vividly,   good at artistic composition.

BODILY / KINESTHETIC :   learns by doing,   well-coordinated,   good with hands,   enjoys sports,   seeks excitement,   very active,   crafty,   good with tools, energetic,   enjoys the outdoors,   athletic.

NATURALIST :   notices natural patterns,   learns through natural contact,   upset by pollution, comfortable with animals,   good at gardening,   appreciates plants,   appreciates scenic views, inspired by nature,   enjoys outdoor activities,  aware of weather changes.

tagged by:   @woofsbane​ <3 ( thank you uwu )

tagging:  Steal it ! ! !

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∝  @therunemaker​​ —  ☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?

Maryse has always been drawn to the moon; one of her favourite activities back in Idris was to sneak out of her room at night and sit on the roof, just staring at the moon. There's something about that silver light, that quiet solitude of the moon that resonates with her, and while she is not one for poetry, Maryse believes that some more flourished descriptions of the moon seem to fit her quite well. She's quiet and thoughtful, but an avid dreamer — one that is tied to her duties, to gravitate around the Clave forever with no chance of ever achieving these dreams. Maryse is also responsible for overseeing the highs and lows of the Institute, running it from Robert's shadow for years, like the moon behind the sun.

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∝  @therunemaker​  ― Did something happen before their birth which determined their life in some way?

The Truebloods had been a happy family of four; Adam, Marissa and their children, Maxwell, Marcelle and the soon to be born baby. With Maxwell being 14, he was deemed responsible enough to look after his four-year-old sister and thus his parents were not so concerned with leaving the children alone. Adam to go on hunts, and Marissa to go to meeting and Clave gatherings. During one of those nights in which both were away, their house was broken into by werewolves. Maxwell was able to fight most of them off but Marcelle was not able to survive the gruesome battle. Her death devastated their family, and soon after they moved closer to the city, right next to the Greymarks.

Marcelle's death changed how Maryse's family saw her. Not only was she the splitting image of her sister, but she too was small and frail and so easy to kill. Marcelle's generation was not allowed to train to become Shadowhunters but Maryse's were. And her family was reluctant to instigate that thought into her. But she was a natural fighter, and she despised how ridiculously protective they were of her. She grew up in Marcelle's shadow, upholding everything her sister would have been along with what she, herself was. Even if her sister was a constant reminder of what her parents had lost, and of what they all expected Maryse to live up to, she didn't resent her. In fact, Maryse wished she could have met her sister, wished she could have grown up with that extra support.

The death of her sister pushed Maryse to become who people know her to be ― the strong, unrelenting, iron-fisted woman. The woman who had to fight tooth and nail to get what she wanted, and succeeded every time. Because Maryse may be of the ocean, but Marcelle was warlike and that spirit passed onto Maryse well into her adulthood.

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hi she wrote another fanfiction about maryse