#at home realizing i got this jem

[mcrbrainrot]

this is fucking hilarious

THE GHOST OF MIKEY WAY HAUNTING MY DUNES VIDEO

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

heyyaaaaa can i pretty please request for an atticus x reader? maybe atticus grows a little liking for his new neighbor (reader) and has been inviting them over for dinner a little too often and his kids are like “you sure you don’t like them 🤔?” And atticus tries to brush it off but it’s very obvious

You never knew how much I really like you.

Atticus Finch x Gender Neutral! Reader romantic headcanon to (small) fic Summary: Atticus's feelings were beyond noticeable, even to Jem and Scout Warnings: None Word Count: 1.4k ₊˚⊹ᰔಇ.

The first time Jem and Scout see Atticus so red in the face is when they are walking back from returning Dill to his house. Their father was standing by your fence, smiling happily as you talked about your day. His cheeks were red as he admired you. When the two got close enough, they heard him ask you to come over for dinner. You accepted it as any good new neighbor does, said your goodbyes, and went back into the home.

“You’re real red-faced, Atticus,” Scout would point out, squinting to look up at her father. Atticus looked over at them and wiped his face, not realizing how obvious it was. He picked her up carefully and walked down the sidewalk back to their home.

“It’s from the sun,” he justifies casually. They felt it was off, he was in the sun all the time, grew up in the south, and they never saw him sweat or undone. His justification made little sense to them.

Atticus spent the night helping Calpurnia set the dining room up for dinner later that night, setting the table with the fine China the kids barely saw outside of very nice holidays or very nice guests. Each moment made Scout and Jem question him more.

“They’re just a new neighbor, why do they get the good China?” Scout would ask plainly, though her tone carried an odd judgmental characteristic. Atticus shook his head and set another plate in Jem’s usual spot.

“They’re still new to the town, it’s good to show them that they’re welcome,” Atticus answered and gave the girl the forks, motioning for her to help set up too.

The dinner was spent with Atticus (a little too cheerfully by Jem’s idea) asking you questions about your life before coming to Maycomb, what you did for a living, and how you were as a person. Scout and Jem would occasionally pipe in and ask you questions, mostly having to do with how you feel about random things (things they like, the Radleys, etc.).

The dinner would end well… that’s what Jem and Scout would say if they didn’t have to go to bed before you left. While they got ready for the night, they occasionally would hear your laugh with Atticus’s, and the sound of the dishes being put away. Just before you left, they got to their bedroom window, watching you leaving the house with a smile. Atticus was probably smiling too, again, a little too red-faced for Scout and Jem to think it was nothing but the sun.

Weeks would go by and seeing you over in their home wasn’t new at some point. The two would wait, watching the corner for Atticus to come home, getting bored from it, and look around to find him talking to you. You stood by your white fence and spoke with great joy on your face, a similar expression on their father's face. They could only guess what was offered by Atticus once they saw the fine China later that night.

“Do you think adults cannot have normal adult friendships?” Atticus asked, sitting down in the living room chair, the accusations of adoration finally spilled by Scout. The sound of sizzling food in the kitchen filled the home with a warm glow, not only from the smell but also from the warm orange light. Scout stood with a blank face and shook her head.

“No,” she said aimlessly. Atticus smiled slightly at her bluntness.

“You had them over twice last week alone,” Jem chirped as he walked from the dining room. “And all the food Calpurnia keeps making for you both are very nice.”

“I treat my guests well,” Atticus stated simply, picking up his book, and opening one of the pages. “I am nothing more than a friend.”

The dinner was spent again like the weeks before, Atticus getting more comfortable with the talking points, and accepting whatever witty comment you made with a chuckle. Scout would fake a gag if a topic changed to something more romantic than she would want her father to be a part of and Calpurnia would pull her away and give her a talk about being kind to her guests. But you weren’t a guest at this point! You essentially live here!

Atticus couldn’t hate you, neither could Jem and Scout. You were kind, even if their father found you fond in a way beyond friendship, it was slightly understandable. You spent your time telling them interesting stories about your life before Maycomb, odd stories about how you’d live before the simplicity of now.

“Atticus likes them,” Jem would say, sifting through his pyjama drawer. You had arrived that night barely an hour before their usual bedtime, only giving them a small amount of time to chat and ask questions.

“I know,” said Scout honestly.

The dinners get more personal, later in the day, there is more time for you and Atticus to be alone without the children needing entertainment, allowing adult talk. Jem and Scout being gone meant he was left with you, getting your attention more to how he truly acted.

The redness of his cheeks, the smile on his face most of the dinner didn’t just get past you. You have been over so many times there wasn’t a moment when you didn’t notice those things. By the end of the dinner, you found your way to the swing on the porch.

“How do you feel about me?” You asked after several seconds of awkward silence. The night had grown quiet, the only sound was the chirps of crickets and cicadas. Atticus sat so close the warmth of your thigh was felt by his own.

“What do you mean?” Atticus asked after clearing his throat. He gently took his glasses from his face and wiped the lenses with a handkerchief. You hesitated momentarily, wondering if you were overreacting and overthinking, or if your ideas were true.

“I mean…,” you trail off, turning your eyes to your hands. “Do you like me?”

Atticus wiped the lenses of his glasses carefully, smiling slightly at the idea. “I do like you,” he admitted, looking away from his glasses for a second to look at you. “You’re very kind, a good neighbor if you will.”

You muse at his answer and shake your head. “No! I mean to have feelings for me. Do you like me like that?” You hastily specify, watching him closely. Atticus moved slowly, taking his time cleaning one of the smudges from the left lens. It was horrific how slow he was moving to answer. “I’ve seen how you look at me.”

“I am glad you can see,” Atticus jokes with a small smile, placing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “I have grown a fondness for you… I wouldn’t say it grew as time went on, I thought you were attractive when I first saw you.”

Your eyes stayed on him as he spoke, taking in his words silently. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you at a romantic moment, over a nice dinner or something you would have preferred. But since you asked, I might as well confess,” his words flowed out naturally, like he was in front of a jury, confessing something minute.

“Prove it,” you challenge. It was mostly a joke, very obviously too, but part of you wanted to know he wasn’t just saying those things to get your hopes up. No, Atticus wouldn’t do that. Then again, you only knew so much.

“A kiss then?” He straightened himself and sighed. “I usually wait a bit, but lord only knows how long I’ve got. I might as well kiss you before I can’t.”

Your head went from a slow to a quick nod. Yeah, that is true. Getting a kiss in wouldn’t hurt anyone, definitely not you. Your face was beyond warm and if Atticus dared to touch your face now, he might ask if you’re sick, which wouldn’t be preferred for obvious reasons. “Yeah… yeah, that will do,” you mutter with a smile.

Atticus nodded and moved until your thigh squished against his. It was very obvious he hadn’t done such a thing in a long while, he was beyond rusty with you in his hold, his hands moving from your shoulders to your upper arms. The smell of sandalwood filled your nose as he moved his glasses to his head, letting them sit carefully before leaning in just enough.

His lips were warm, thankfully. You could only hope yours were too since it seemed your spirit left your body at that moment. Atticus was just as gentle when he kissed as when he spoke, keeping it intense enough to be romantic but not too much to be something more. Your hands, almost like instinct, held his lapel, needing to keep him close.

If only he could kiss you forever.

₊˚⊹ᰔಇ.

My TKAM masterlist

My request list

[abigailspinach]

Chapter 6 - SUSAN, RILLA, AND DOG MONDAY MAKE A RESOLUTION

Some quotes and things.

"He must leave for Valcartier the next morning."

Valcartier is just a great name. Very classy and strong. I know it's a real place. It's just fun to say.

"Rilla was basting the hem of a sheet for the first time in her life. When the word had come that Jem must go she had her cry out among the pines in Rainbow Valley and then she had gone to her mother. "Mother, I want to do something. I'm only a girl—I can't do anything to win the war—but I must do something to help at home."

Rilla has a lot of strength and courage. She contains multitudes!

"So here was Rilla hemming sheets and organizing a Junior Red Cross in her thoughts as she hemmed; moreover, she was enjoying it—the organizing that is, not the hemming."

Rilla Project Manager is one of my fave plotlines. (Possibly because I am a Project Manager in my day job).

"Who would be president? Not she. The older girls would not like that. Irene Howard? No, somehow Irene was not quite as popular as she deserved to be. Marjorie Drew? No, Marjorie hadn't enough backbone. She was too prone to agree with the last speaker. Betty Mead—calm, capable, tactful Betty—the very one!" "They would meet around—and there must be no eats—Rilla knew she would have a pitched battle with Olive Kirk over that—and everything should be strictly business-like and constitutional. Her minute book should be covered in white with a Red Cross on the cover"

I love you get Rilla's very insightful assessment of the candidates for the Junior Reds and then immediately juxtaposed with the sidebar about wishing for a very smart and neat book cover. Hell yeah girl. It's nice to have pretty supplies for morale. I endorse 100%. I just bought a limited edition color palette of post-its. Only 12 dollars and will make me happy for the next 12 months or more as I use them up.

"You could not mention anything about that blessed baby that I do not and will not remember till my dying day," said Susan drearily."

LOL Susan you don't have to one up Anne. But I get you, Susan. XOXOXOXO

"Have you room there for this fruit-cake? And the shortbread? And the mince-pie? That blessed boy shall not starve, whether they have anything to eat in that Quebec place or not."

I wonder if Jem is going to just share on the train with all the other boys and make friends. Imagine half your luggage being dedicated to homemade snacks.

DOG MONDAY APPEARANCE. I LOVE HIM

Ok I am realizing I assumed Ken is like 25 and I have no evidence for this at all.

"It might have been worse, Mrs. Drew. I might have had to urge him to go." Mrs. Drew did not understand but Rilla did. She flung up her head.

"It's a commercial war when all is said and done and not worth one drop of good Canadian blood,"

Putting those two together... cause like so much of the other post war books end up in the second camp... and I feel like LMM is still a little bit romantizcing the war.... a bit?

Dog Monday would not move. He wagged his tail to show he had no hard feelings but no blandishments availed to budge him.

DOG MONDAY I CANT WITH YOU. My Heart!!!

Whining and shirking and blaming Providence do not get us anywhere. We have just got to grapple with whatever we have to do whether it is weeding the onion patch, or running the Government. I shall grapple.

[jamessxcarstairs]

Title: The Jade Fist

Word Count: 1,914

Rating: G

Summary: "He poked his head around the corner, and saw Jem sitting on the floor with his legs pulled up to his chest and his face buried in his knees. It had been about two months since James Carstairs arrived at the Institute from Shanghai, and it was an odd adjustment. Not only was there now another Shadowhunter boy his own age in the Institute to train with, Will had actually taken a liking to him. And he’s pretty sure Jem feels the same way, which didn’t exactly bode well with Will’s plan to make sure no one ever liked him."

Will believes he may have found a new friendship in Jem. When he finds Jem upset over missing his family and his home, he discovers something that can make Jem less homesick.

Part 1 of If Aught but Death Part Thee and Me

Read it on Ao3

London. February, 1874.

Will was sitting up in his bed, nose deep in reading Dickens’ Oliver Twist . Ever since his arrival at the Institute three months ago, he had been throwing himself into reading any book he could get his hands on as a distraction. While it helped in some ways, in other ways it didn’t: it would help him in that moment, but the second he was called down for supper or for his tutoring he was reminded again.

Reminded of why he had to leave.

He still remembered the look in the demon’s eyes, the way Ella’s body looked after- No . He wasn’t going to think about that. He went back to his book and tried to lose himself in the story. He was swiftly pulled back to the present by a muffled noise outside his door. He didn’t know who was out there, but he really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.

“Whoever's out there, you may as well just leave! I’m busy!” He shouted with as much venom as he could. Yet, the noise continued. Will, now irritated, got off of his bed in a huff and swung open the door. “I said …” and there was no one out there. He listened closer, and realized it was the sound of muffled sobs he had been hearing; it was coming from the main corridor.

Will shut the door to his room as softly as he could, and he walked down the hall towards the corridor. He poked his head around the corner, and saw Jem sitting on the floor with his legs pulled up to his chest and his face buried in his knees. It had been about two months since James Carstairs arrived at the Institute from Shanghai, and it was an odd adjustment. Not only was there now another Shadowhunter boy his own age in the Institute to train with, Will had actually taken a liking to him. And he’s pretty sure Jem feels the same way, which didn’t exactly bode well with Will’s plan to make sure no one ever liked him.

“James? A- Are you alright?” Will asked, a bit awkwardly. It had frightened Will how quickly being nasty and cruel towards people had become his gut response while speaking to people after only three months of living at the Institute. Though he supposed that if one forced themself to behave a certain way, it became second nature after a while. But Jem? Jem was different. He was already dying, so Will’s curse wouldn’t affect him, right?

“Will!” Jem exclaimed, clearly not expecting to see Will hovering over him like a lunatic. He stood up carefully, rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t think anyone was down here.”

Will shrugged. “My room is down that way. I was just reading. Are you alright?” he asked again.

Jem looked down at his shoes, and shook his head a bit. “Just feeling a little homesick, that’s all,” he said, his voice small. Will took note of Jem’s hair in the glow of the witchlight lamps. He could’ve sworn there were more silver strands than when he saw Jem this morning, but it was probably just a trick of the light.

“Oh,” Will replied. Why am I so bad at this ? He thought to himself. “Is… there anything I can do to help?"

Jem smiled slightly, and nodded. “D’you want to take a walk with me back to my room? I could use the company.” Wordlessly, Will followed Jem down the corridor and they walked together in silence for a few moments.

“So, what were your parents like?” Will asked finally, trying to break the silence. Though he regretted it almost instantly when he noticed Jem flinch. “Nevermind, you don’t have to tell me anything. I don’t even know why I asked that,” he said, silently cursing himself.

“No, no, it’s alright. I don’t mind telling you. They were pretty amazing people.” Jem took a deep breath, and then continued. “My father, Jonah, is from London. And my mother, Wen Yu, is from Beijing. They met when they were teenagers while my mother was in London on her travel year. I inherited my mother’s features, though I’ve been told I have my father’s face. When I was very small, I barely remember the time before, my parents were assigned to run the Shanghai Institute, and-”

Jem stopped speaking suddenly, and Will glanced over to see that Jem’s eyes were starting to fill with tears. He started to panic.

“No, wait, don’t cry!” Will put his hand on the other boy’s shoulder, hoping to reassure him, but then pulled away as he tried to come up with something to cheer him up. “Jem, have you ever heard of… demon pox?”

Jem looked up at him at that, cracking a slight smile. “What?”

“By the Angel, you’ve never heard of demon pox?” Will said with mock concern. “It’s a horrid thing, really. What a way to die.”

“I don’t think demon pox exists, Will.”

“But it does! Why, they only way one can get it is by going down to deepest, dampest part of town, and f-”

“William? James?” A voice interrupted Will’s rant. Around the corner came Charlotte, holding a witchlight stone. “Oh! I thought I heard your voices. What are you boys doing down here?”

“I was just telling Jem here all about demon pox. Wild stuff,” Will said. He heard Jem stifle a laugh.

Charlotte sighed. “Will, I told you to stop speaking such nonsense. Anyway, Jem, it’s you I was looking for.”

“Me?” Jem asked.

“Yes, James. Henry has something he’d like to show you. He’s waiting in the drawing room,” Charlotte said gently.

Jem nodded, and said “thank you, Charlotte,” and went to go follow her. Then, he turned around to look at Will. “Why don’t you come along, Will?”

Will, shocked by Jem’s gesture, didn’t know what to say. “I dunno, Henry isn’t quite used to my charming wit yet. I wouldn’t want him to blow a gasket on my account.”

“ Will …” Charlotte scolded.

“I insist. Please come,” Jem said, gesturing down the corridor with his arm.

Will hesitated a moment, but then nodded and said “alright,” and started after them.

“Jem, thank you for coming! Oh, and Will. Thank you for coming, too!” Henry said.

Will entered the drawing room with Jem and Charlotte, and he saw Henry sitting on one of the massive sofas holding something wrapped in parchment.

“What’ve you got there, Henry? Dear God, please don’t tell me it’s another invention…” Will exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Well, yes, I suppose it is,” Henry said, thinking about it for a moment. “Jem, I have something for you. I tried to do research on what kind of weapons might’ve been popular at the Shanghai Institute, and I came to the conclusion that long swords were quite popular! So, the best part is that not only can this be used as a weapon, it also has a practical, everyday use as well.” Will caught Charlotte’s glance at Henry, and she looked incredibly proud.

Jem took the item from Henry, and started to unwrap the parchment. Will watched in silence as Jem lifted the item from the parchment, and saw his eyes widen in surprise. It was a walking stick with a jade dragon-headed top.

“It’s a sword that doubles as a walking stick!” Henry said. “Isn’t it exquisite? The sword pops out when you press that switch there, and I thought the walking stick could give you support on the days when you’re feeling ill. I even included some jade in the embellishments, since I learned that it can be found in the river near where you grew up.”

“This is incredible, Henry! Thank you,” Jem said, a huge smile on his face. It was the type of smile that lit up your whole face, Will thought. It was the first time Will had seen Jem truly smile since arriving at the Institute. Will the knew what he could do to cheer Jem up.

That night, Will traveled down to Whitechapel to peruse the night market there, which was run by Downworlders and Sighted mundanes. He walked along until he came to a booth that was run by a warlock woman with bright, blue hair, and was covered head-to-toe in jewels.

“What brings you to my booth, little Shadowhunter?” The woman asked curiously.

“I’m looking for something to give to my friend. D’you have anything made from jade?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve got only the finest jade imported all the way from Shanghai,” the woman said, pulling out a large, wooden box, and revealing hundreds of jade pieces in various shapes and sizes. The one that caught his eye was small and round, and if you looked carefully you could see that it resembled a closed fist.

This would be perfect , Will thought. He then paid for the jade piece, and went on his way, trying to figure out the best way to give it to him.

When Will got back to the Institute, he heard the familiar sound of Jem’s violin, and followed it to Jem’s room. He pushed the bedroom door open, and he saw Jem sitting on the trunk at the foot of his bed, looking rather feverish.

“Jem,” Will said, trying to get his attention.

The violin playing ceased, and Jem turned his head to look at Will. “Oh! Hello, Will,” Jem said, his eyes lighting up.

“You don’t look so well,” said Will. “Did you take any of the… the stuff?”

Jem sighed. “Yes, I just did. This is my immediate reaction to it, becoming feverish and whatnot. It’s rather-”

“I got something for you,” Will interrupted.

“You got something for me ?” Jem asked, looking incredulous.

“I heard what Henry said earlier about jade, and I thought this would make you feel less homesick if you had it.” Will pulled the small parcel out of his pocket, and handed it to Jem.

Jem took it, and started to unwrap it. Will’s heart started to beat rapidly, trying to anticipate what his reaction would be.

“Wow…” Jem said finally, his fingers gliding over the jade. He looked up at Will then, and his face crumbled. He walked over to Will and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his shoulder.

Will stiffened. He normally would have pushed them away if someone tried to hug him, but he let Jem hug him in that moment; he felt tears dampen the material of Will’s shirt. The sound of his sobs broke Will’s heart. It was the sound of a boy who felt lost and alone, much like he did; the thought made Will’s own eyes well up with tears.

“Thank you, Will,” Jem said, his voice muffled by Will’s shirt. At that, Will wrapped his own arms around Jem, holding on to him tightly. Will wasn’t very good at friendships, but in that moment he vowed that he would try to be for Jem.

The next morning at breakfast, Jem took his normal seat at the dining room table next to Will. He smiled at Will as he sat down, and he noticed something shining at Jem’s collar. It was the jade pendant that Will had given to him last night; he had attached a chain to it, and was wearing it as a necklace. Will felt his face heat up and he ducked his head, smiling to himself.

[oldfashionedbooklove]

tell me about your favorite lm montgomery novel please <3

Okay this is SO hard because her books are amazing but I just have to admit Rilla of Ingleside is my favourite, which is saying a lot because I LOVE HER BOOKS, okay! I adore the Story Girl duology and I absolutely love the Anne series and Jane of Lantern Hill.

But Rilla. This book is a heartbreaker. And it’s so beautiful.

I don’t know if I can fully express how much is to be found in this book. I have been reading it yearly for many years, and always come away with new thoughts. As I grow older, and see more of the world, I relate and understand more, and another level of the book is discovered.

The setting—a small P.E.I. town carrying on through WWI. I’m pretty tough when it comes to war books, but I have to take breaks from this one because it is so raw and real. The agony is intense. I cannot even cry over it—my heart hurts too much for tears. This shows exactly what the Great War was for people. You sway back and forth, feeling the dread and terror. You know how it ends but you are broken anyhow. And when the end comes, you too can only rejoice softly. You feel as if you have paid part of the price yourself.

“‘We’re in a new world,’ Jem says, ‘and we’ve got to make it a better one than the old. That isn’t done yet, though some folks seem to think it ought to be. The job isn’t finished—it isn’t really begun. The old world is destroyed and we must build up the new one. It will be the task of years. I’ve seen enough of war to realize that we’ve got to make a world where wars can’t happen. We’ve given Prussianism its mortal wound but it isn’t dead yet and it isn’t confined to Germany either. It isn’t enough to drive out the old spirit—we’ve got to bring in the new.’”

The characters in this book—they are alive. Splendid Jem, brave and merry and true; Jerry, steady and dutiful; Walter, sensitive and courageous; Carl, cheerful and fearless; Shirley, honest and reliable; Nan and Di and Anne, all heart-wrung and smiling; Gertrude, tragic and grasping for hope; the Doctor, determined and self-sacrificing; Susan, simple and true—and Rilla, who starts out a silly, frivolous girl and ends a strong, mature woman. Then there are all the minor and side characters—the Merediths, Cousin Sophia, Jimsy, Ken, Irene, Whiskers-on-the-Moon & his family, Mary and the Elliotts, Norman + Ellen, and everyone else. They’re all so alive, so real, so funny and terrible and beautiful—I swear Glen St. Mary exists and all the inhabitants thereof.

The story follows the Great War, from the first days in August 1914 to the bitter Summer of 1919, where peace has come but normal will never return. As a child, this story was simply World War One—a faraway, long-ago grief and horror and agony. Now, in 2024, as a woman, I have experienced a slight taste of what the people of 1914 felt, and it has humanized the story of the War. This, more than any other book I have read, brings the War and the world of 1914-1918 to life, showing how they were people just like us. The heart is wrung by their suffering, and there is no escape, for the war must drag on for long bitter years. And the price! Walter has become the face of unknown, forgotten heroes, and Jem has become that of the scarred heroes who returned. Every November we grieve the young men who never came home, and for the ones who came home missing a part of themselves, physical or otherwise. I have wept thinking of the children of Rilla, Ken, Faith, Jem, and the others—children who fought in WWII and whose parents were forced to relive the horrible conflict of mankind.

“It has been such a dreadful week,” she wrote, “and even though it is over and we know that it was all a mistake that does not seem to do away with the bruises left by it. And yet it has in some ways been a very wonderful week and I have had some glimpses of things I never realized before���of how fine and brave people can be even in the midst of horrible suffering.”

And yet the book overflows with humour—real laugh-out-loud scenes and witty, clever banter on princes and politics. It is another aspect of the humanity—the part that cannot fully let go of laughing despite the drain. Another angle is the shrewd commentary on principalities and powers, nations and cultures, is thought-provoking, as is the remarks that show us how the war truly changed the world.

“There was a time,” she said sorrowfully, “when I did not care what happened outside of P.E. Island, and now a king cannot have a toothache in Russia or China but it worries me. It may be broadening to the mind, as the doctor said, but it is very painful to the feelings.”

But the biggest things to me is the SPIRIT of this book. The spirit of perseverance, endurance, courage, and love. Of course, man is man, and there is suspicion, contempt, and a feeling of superiority—but this is not exclusive only to Anglo-Saxons. As someone who isn’t Anglo-Saxon myself, and actually of mixed cultures, I can attest every nation is guilty of such. World War One was a battle of good vs. evil—not of man vs. man, but Idea against Idea—the idea of civilization against militarism. Perhaps not on the part of the leaders—but when one studies the writings, letters, poems, and speeches of the everyday folks caught up in the war, one sees this distinction plainly. It was not a war of European against European, Anglo-Saxon against German—it was a war between an old, terrible Idea of Prussianism (Frederick the Great, anyone?) and the Idea of Respect and Peace.

“And you will tell your children of the Idea we fought and died for—teach them it must be lived for as well as died for, else the price paid for it will have been given for nought.”

May we never forget.

A REMARK: I discovered that Rilla of Ingleside was abridged by about 4,300 words (~14 pages), so I searched for an unabridged copy. I definitely encourage you to take the extra trouble to find an *unabridged* copy. It is SO worth it! I’ve read both versions and the unabridged is so much fuller, with a great deal more humour and fun.

I just have to pick out my favourite quotes, too…

“We all come back to God in these days of soul-sifting,” said Gertrude to John Meredith. “There have been many days in the past when I didn't believe in God—not as God—only as the impersonal Great First Cause of the scientists. I believe in Him now—I have to—there's nothing else to fall back on but God—humbly, starkly, unconditionally.”

“‘Our help in ages past’—‘the same yesterday, to-day and for ever,’ said the minister gently. ‘When we forget God—He remembers us.’”

Below her [window] was a big apple-tree, a great swelling cone of rosy blossom.... Beyond Rainbow Valley there was a cloudy shore of morning with little ripples of sunrise breaking over it. The far, cold beauty of a lingering star shone above it. Why, in this world of springtime loveliness, must hearts break?

And I can’t leave without some humour:

“‘The Germans have recaptured Premysl,’ said Susan despairingly… ‘and now I suppose we will have to begin calling it by that uncivilized name again. Cousin Sophia was in when the mail came and when she heard the news she hove a sigh up from the depths of her stomach, Mrs. Dr. dear, and said, ‘Ah yes, and they will get Petrograd next I have no doubt.’ I said to her, ‘My knowledge of geography is not so profound as I wish it was but I have an idea that it is quite a walk from Premysl to Petrograd.’ Cousin Sophia sighed again and said, ‘The Grand Duke Nicholas is not the man I took him to be.’ ‘Do not let him know that,’ said I. ‘It might hurt his feelings and he has likely enough to worry him as it is.’ But you cannot cheer Cousin Sophia up, no matter how sarcastic you are, Mrs. Dr. dear. She sighed for the third time and groaned out, ‘But the Russians are retreating fast,’ and I said, ‘Well, what of it? They have plenty of room for retreating, have they not?’ But all the same, Mrs. Dr. dear, though I would never admit it to Cousin Sophia, I do not like the situation on the eastern front. [But] Grand Duke Nicholas, though he may have been a disappointment to us in some respects, knows how to run away decently and in order, and that is a very useful knowledge when Germans are chasing you. Norman Douglas declares he is just luring them on and killing ten of them to one he loses. But I am of the opinion he cannot help himself and is just doing the best he can under the circumstances, the same as the rest of us.’”

[wicked441]

A Life in the Shadows

A Shadowhunter Fanfic 7 & 8

Part 7:

"Shadowhunters?" Jem asked. "What is that?"

"You don't know what shadowhunters are?" The blonde, who Jem now knew as Emma, used a soft voice. It was a comforting change from the piercing screeches she was accustomed to hearing back home, Though, now, Jem couldn't remember exactly where her home was. Instead of answering, Jem only shook her head. "We protect mundanes from Demons. We have these runes," Emma shrugged off her jacket and showed her arms. "They help us by giving us angelic powers. We can only use them because of our angel blood."

Jem sat up at the sight of them. "I remember those, kind of. They burn." She knew what the marks were, but couldn't quite place their fleeting familiarity. "Father keeps his, but mine always fade." She reached out, yet hesitated. Her finger hovered a moment before lightly brushing a rune on Emma's forearm. The skin beneath is it was warm, and the black mark pulsed like it was alive.

"Who's your Father?" Julian asked. “Is he a shadowhunter? Are you?”

Jem tried to remember his face, his name… Anything about Father, but her mind went frustratingly blank. "I-I don't know."

Julian sat up with obvious annoyance he was trying so hard to conceal. "You can't remember at all?"

"I don't know." Jem matched Julian's annoyance levels. "The memory.. It was there, but I can't get it back."

Emma and Julian finally tore their eyes from Jem. Both seemed to be thinking with great concern. Emma paced a few steps away. "He called me Jamie. But I always wished to be called Jem." The pair snapped their attention back to the girl. "That's my name. You never asked."

"I'm sorry." Julian said after a brief moment of shock. "We should have been more polite. Our minds tend to stay on solving mysteries." Julian stood up and stated. "I'm gonna call Magnus. I think he'll know better what's going on." He stalked out of the infirmary before Jem could ask who that was.

When he was gone, Jem looked toward Emma for answers.

"Magnus is the high warlock of Brooklyn." Jem was only more confused. Warlock? Brooklyn? Jem didn't know what to think.

"Those are just made up words."

Emma found her way to the edge of the bed as she did a quick run down of the definitions and reassured Jem that Magnus might be able to help her remember, "He's a very good friend of ours. He's been able to help others, like you, and he's seen more than anyone else." Emma realized she had not paused to let Jem take in everything that was being thrown at her. "Look, I know this must be a lot for you." Emma cupped Jem's hands in her own and leaned forward.

"You think?"

"We will help you Jem. You've got the entire Nephlim race on your side."

"My side?" Jem looked down at her hips.

"It's a figure of speech." Emma snuffed a giggle. "It means all shadowhunters, who are bound to protect this world, will do everything to keep you safe."

"Safe." Jem felt a sense of relief for the first time in what seemed like forever. Finally, someone's hands were holding her instead of hurting her. Jem's eyelids grew heavy. Despite her fight to stay awake, to learn more about this world, she was too comfortable and the weakness took over her body once more.

Part 8:

Julian sprawled out in one of the many chairs that littered the Institute. This particular one sat beneath the high windows of the foyer, drenched in afternoon light that didn’t quite reach his thoughts. His phone dangled loosely in one hand; the other raked through his hair in a futile attempt to tame it.

His eyes drifted to the carpet, where faint smudges of dried blood still clung to the fibers—Jem’s blood. He made a mental note to clean it up later. Or maybe Magnus would have a spell for that. Magnus always had a spell.

He let his mind busy itself with small details, anything to keep it off the weight crushing his chest. Jem. Fragile and frightened. The bruises on her skin looked like watercolor stains—dark at the edges, soft in the center, like something that didn’t belong in a child’s story. But it wasn’t the bruises that haunted him. It was how easily his mind replaced her image with another—Livvy. The sister he couldn’t save.

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the memory back. When he opened them, they locked on the infirmary door. His call with Magnus had ended minutes ago, but he hadn’t moved since. He didn’t want to go back in. He couldn’t bear to see Emma and risk her seeing the guilt in his eyes. Or worse—see Jem and feel it all over again. That same helplessness. That same fear he wouldn’t be able to save her, either.

With a sigh heavy enough to weigh down his bones, Julian pushed himself to his feet. He shoved his phone into his pocket, squared his shoulders, and walked toward the infirmary. He didn’t bother softening his steps.

The door creaked as he pushed it open, and Emma’s head snapped up.

“Shh!” she hissed, holding a finger to her lips and glancing toward the bed.

Jem was curled up tightly beneath the blankets, her small body at rest, but her face—tensed even in sleep—portrayed the unrest still clinging to her.

Julian didn’t speak. He just motioned to Emma, jerking his head toward the hallway. She hesitated for a moment, brushing Jem’s hair back gently before following him out.

Once the door clicked shut behind them, they spoke in full volume again.

“Magnus will be here in a day or two.”

“The sooner the better.” Emma sighed in feigned relief. “It’s time we get some answers.”

“No doubt. It seems the Clave knew about the girl before Magnus even got back to Brooklyn.

“The girl?” Emma questioned his refusal to use her name. “You mean Jem?” Julian nodded, but didn’t look Emma in the eye. “How did they know about her before anyone could write a report? How long have they known about this?”

“They knew before Magnus even got back to Brooklyn. A vampire den in Brazil submitted surveillance footage after a raid. All the vamps had their fangs removed—and the girl showed up shortly after, taking a package from a cloaked figure.”

Emma stiffened. “Like the one you saw at the courthouse?”

Julian didn’t answer right away. Something in Emma’s tone—too sharp, too inquisitive—grated against him. He was unraveling, and she kept tugging at the threads.

“I don’t know,” he said flatly. “I don’t have all the answers, Emma. I need to go prepare rooms. We’ll be having guests.”

“Guests? Who else besides Magnus?”

Before he could reply, a door down the hall banged open.

“Jules!” Ty came running out, waving a fire-message in the air like a victorious messenger from a war front. “You’ve got to read this!”

Julian took the note, glancing at the wax seal as he broke it open. Emma leaned over to read along.

He read aloud, voice tightening with each line:

“To the Head of the Los Angeles Institute—”

Julian raised a brow at that, but kept going.

“We are writing to inform you of the placement of Lindsey Blackwell at your Institute for her Field Work Year. The Ascendent’s placement will serve as assistance in the ongoing investigation, as well as continued training and education. Ascendents should focus on preparing their thesis, due one year after placement…”

He skimmed the rest, expression unreadable. “Looks like I need to prepare an extra bedroom.”

He handed the letter off to Emma and strode off down the corridor. Ty fell into step beside him, practically buzzing with questions.

Emma stood in the hallway for a moment longer, the letter crinkling in her hand, her eyes flicking back to the infirmary door. Jem was still inside—still a mystery.

And Julian? He was already moving on to the next task.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Outlander: Singapore (7x05)

Huh, interesting. A couple of significant changes I'm not sure how to feel about, but an otherwise solid episode!

Cons:

Now, as a caveat, it has been a minute since I read the books, but I'm almost sure the scene with Ian meeting Emily's son goes a lot differently. For one, Ian is the one to name the kid Swiftest of Lizards, and Emily actually asks Ian to name her daughter, but he feels a connection to the older boy, and names him instead. It's left incredibly ambiguous as to whether or not this really is Ian's biological son, although later events strongly suggest this to be the case. In the show, they cast a little white kid to play Swiftest of Lizards, so it seems pretty clear we're not supposed to have any doubt. And he already has his Mohawk name, and Ian gives him an English one: Ian James. I'm... not sure how to feel about this. I liked the subtlety, the ambiguity, in the book. And I liked that Ian claimed the right to name him in the Mohawk fashion, instead of being handed the opportunity by Emily. It makes Ian's connection to his Mohawk identity stronger, that he names this child of his spirit in the tradition of one of his chosen people, instead of the people of his birth. I don't know, it just felt a little too neat and tidy, the way this played out.

Another change from the books is that I think Brianna realizes that the hazing is something they've done to the other people a little sooner? She doesn't go home and talk about how this was an act of sexism with Roger, and get his reassurance. I don't... mind that, strictly speaking, but I do think the stuff with Roger works a little better if he's not quite so perfect at atoning for his mistake of not supporting her perfectly. He's got a lot of sexist ideas that he has to work to overcome consistently.

Pros:

I will say, Bree and Roger are a lot easier to like as a couple in the 1980s than they were in the past. I don't know why, exactly, but something about Sophie Skelton's acting style (she's still a weak point in the show for me) works a little better in a more contemporary setting. And gosh, Roger looks handsome with his 80's haircut and clothes, holding his daughter in his arms... I also like the sinister hints that something's going on, with the food wrappers, and Mandy seeming to see someone lurking outside.

I'm glad they kept in things like Jem talking to his grandfather in the graveyard, and Brianna wondering if her parents might be buried there at Lallybroch. She's afraid to look. And the bit about Jem speaking Gaelic at school and getting in trouble for it - it's so wild to me that things like that can happen. How evil do you have to be to actively try and stamp out language and culture like that? It's cool that we're keeping these little subplots in, when there's so much else we need to cover. Another highlight is Brianna weeping over her parents and deciding to read another letter. The device of having Claire's narration come through the form of letters to Bree and Roger works better than just the out of nowhere narration that the show has been struggling with since day one.

Meanwhile, the Hunters and William are traveling together, and they stop for the night with a couple who lures them off the road and tries to murder and rob them in the dead of night! William saves them by killing the man and incapacitating the woman, but he has complicated feelings about having killed someone for the first time. I loved that the scenes with them started with a moral debate over the merits of taking a human life. Obviously the Quakers are anti-violence, but William points out that part of what allows them their stance is that they depend on others to enact violence on their behalf. Denny used medical cadavers for his research, and they were executed criminals! How does he circle that square?

I will also say, in contrast to my thoughts last week, I was a little bit charmed by Rachel here. I thought she had decent chemistry with William, and I also thought the moment when she and Ian ran into each other was pretty sweet. I've found that when Ian gives a big smile, it makes him look young and boyish and super charming in a not-conventionally-attractive way. (The scene between Ian and Claire about his chances to father children in the future was very sweet, too.)

I was excited for Claire and Denny's team-up as surgeons at Fort Ticonderoga, it was super refreshing to have him show up and immediately respect her opinion, the same way she respected his. They work together to amputate a man's leg, but are forced to leave the injured man behind as the British approach to take the fort, meaning he'll end up a prisoner of war. Book readers know that this man has a role to play later on, so that'll be interesting to see.

Meanwhile nobody takes Jamie seriously about his worries that the British army will approach from over the water and take the high ground, and even after he tries to convince the higher-ups, they ignore him. Turns out, he was right, and the Americans are forced to flee and let the British take the fort. You should always listen to Jamie Fraser, he knows what he's talking about here! I like that we're seeing some of Jamie's tactical brilliance, but also the way he stays cool under pressure, and has learned how to keep his mouth shut when he's being disrespected. He will lead the men under his command with honor, he'll fight for what he thinks is right, but he's also got his survival, and that of his family, front of mind. It's a good balance for his character!

So there ya have it. Lots of stuff going on. I know I keep saying this over and over, but it impresses me how little they're cutting out of the books. Every time I realize we're getting a particular scene or a setup for a character to arrive, I find myself a little surprised, thinking about all the stuff that could have been cut off to make room for the main plot. There wasn't a lot of Claire in this episode compared with most of the other characters, and I think that's okay - she has plenty of time to shine later on!

8.5/10

[cattatonically]

Silent Knight - Beth Bolden (Christmas Falls, book 4)

Synopsis

Of all the things Murphy Clark loves about Christmas Falls, there’s always been one he loves a little more than the rest:

His childhood best friend, Jem Knight.

Doesn’t matter that Jem’s barely been home in years, or that he’s busy conquering football fields instead of hanging out at Jolly Java or admiring Murphy’s carved wooden gnomes. Murphy’s always loved him anyway.

But now Jem’s finally returned to Christmas Falls to be the honorary figurehead of the biggest holiday festival in the Midwest.

Murphy’s hoping to rekindle their friendship but he didn’t count on Jem not recognizing him. Or flirting with him. Or re-igniting the hopeless crush he’s always had for his best friend.

He definitely didn’t expect for his crush to no longer be hopeless at all.

Or for both of them to realize that all they want for Christmas this year is each other.

Christmas Falls is a multi-author M/M romance series set in a small town that thrives on enough holiday charm to rival any Hallmark movie.

My Thoughts

In the 4th Christmas Falls story, we have another retired athlete rebuilding his life in his 30s. I’m not really a huge fan of this trope – or of stories about athletes or sports in general – and having it fall back-to-back with the last book was a bit much for me.

I didn’t really connect with Jem or Murphy’s story as much as I have the others. The poor communication between the two took me out of the story. And there always seemed to be something going on with one of them, while we were reading from the other’s POV, leaving rather large question marks as to what, exactly, was going on, and why our characters were reacting the way they were.

As with the other books in this series, Jem and Murphy find their happily ever after. It works out for them, eventually, and I’m glad for that. I just really don’t understand how they got there.

Maybe I missed something. Maybe I was supposed to read something between the lines that I didn’t pick up. But I felt pretty stupid not understanding things other characters in the book seemed to just pick up naturally. And that didn’t really make me feel too jolly.

[make-me-ur-aphrodite]

guess who finally finished chain of thorns over a week later 🤩 my completely unorganized thoughts for the general public anyways chain of thorns spoilers ahead bros

- ghostwriter is the relationship i love them more than i love my life it's just like the cute little moments between them like when lucie was nervous before her parabatai ceremony with cordelia and he was holding her and comforting her i melted

- i honestly think james and matthews relationship was dealt with really well we know nobody is ever gonna top jem and will but i think they were written really well and them in edom together was so emotional to me

- tell me why i was so heartbroken when christopher died but i only cried when grace sent that fire message and wrote that it was created by kit 🥺lol i'll tell you why it's because we got zero real reaction about it

i wanted anna's pov as her baby brother died in her arms

i wanted cecily and gabriel seeing their sons body taken into idris and realizing what happened

where was sophie and gideon who also lost a child comforting them?!?!?

honestly i think that since christopher did die there was a lot of potential there

-i hated the love triangle and felt awful for matthew the entire time cause like didn't we all know jordelia was endgame i meannnn

literally love jordelia tho and i we'll never not think of james saying "sod that" and shooting the door open like sir 🫣also them traveling is something that is so personal to me i am in love with the idea of james and cordelia going all around the world and then taking their kids with them 😍

-after this book i feel like grace is a lost kitten and i want literally nothing more than to adopt her also did anyone else catch at the end when they said that grace doesn't talk much idk but i would like to give her a home

-the thomastair content 🤩🤩🤩 i love them so much i love that they're moving in together i love alastair with his baby brother i love eugenia saying she's gonna renounce her family if they don't accept thomas when he came out. every scene with them was a masterpiece

also alastair's personality like my boy is sassy and sarcastic and i would die for him

-i think the anna and ari's storylines progressed really well and they've come so far since we've first met them 🥺

-anyways my #1 ship matthew x sobriety came true and i could not be more thrilled

the moral of my rant here was that i really loved it and i think it's just cause im so in love with each of the characters but i loved almost every second of this book and didn't want it to end my only complaint would be how christopher's death and other potentially emotional topics (will and tessa crying when they found out the kids were stuck in london) were kind of just glossed over but overall i was in love with them all and i don't think i can accurately describe my feelings so that was my jumbled mess of thoughts

also can we talk about the fairchild twins please

[munchkin1156]

Upon clouds we dream

Chapter One

Fake fic title by @beckyu

All characters belong to me

Lets go!

. . .

Once we wandered, down there on the earth.

Free and happy, we lived on the turf

But then came the humans, so cruel and small-minded.

And fought against us, but we were united.

But though we fought hard, it was in vain

And we ran away, very much in pain

So we fled, to the sky so high,

Where we stayed, and where we fly

But one day soon, we'll come back to finish the job,

Get rid of the humans, once and for all.

. . .

Charlie looked down at the world below. The wind whistled in his ears and his wings fluttered slightly in the open air. The avian hummed in annoyance. His sister, an osprey dreamer named Gio, would get to go down there today on a scouting mission. Lucky, she was, though she never seemed to acknowledge it. If he had been picked for the mission, he wouldn't stop bragging about it to Jem, his arch nemesis and the most annoying person Charlie had ever met. But he nor Jem hadn't been chosen. It was infuriating. His tail twitched. There weren’t any seagulls up here. That meant a storm. Not great. Wait a moment. That meant Gio couldn’t go today! So, she would have to go home! And be able to tell Charlie everything about the training, so he could prepare! Yes great!

Satisfied, he took off, soaring towards his and Gio’s house. He had been living alone for the past few days since Gio got accepted for training. It had been a bit lonely, but Charlie made up for it by training for hours. His muscles ached and his wings hurt whenever he moved them. It was going to be worth it though when they saw how strong and cool he was. There! He swooped into a dive as a small wooden cottage came into view. The cottage was made from nice mahogany wood, with moss growing over it. It sat on a plateau that stuck out above the clouds, safe from storms. Another reason why Gio should be home today. Other houses, of similar appearance, were also laid out over the flat landscape. Charlie knew every single one and every single person who lived there. He landed right by the cottage, and walked inside, face full of hope. He was not disappointed.

There, at the table, sat Gio, looking like she hadn’t slept in days. “Gio!” Charlie cried. “What happened to you!?” She looked up. “Charlie?” She said faintly. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Charlie had the knowledge to look a little bit ashamed. “I might have been kicked out of class…” “Charlie!” Gio scolded. Then she sighed. “I don’t have the strength to be mad at you right now. I’m going to go rest.” “But what happens at training? And why do you look so tired? And- “ He was abruptly cut off by Gio. “I’ll tell you after I get some sleep. Promise.” Charlie glanced at her. She seemed to be on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. “Mkay then. Sleep well and may Amble protect you.” She nodded and murmured something Charlie couldn’t catch before heading to her room and closing the door behind her. Well, that was that. He ate some ghero and went to his own bedroom. Gio would not wake for some time, he might as well get some sleep. He lay down on his bed, and finally realized just how tired he was. Charlie felt himself drift off. He would get answers in a couple of hours. For now, this was enough.

. . .

When Charlie woke up, he mumbled something incoherent, grouchily sat up, and looked around. His room was small, but it had a pleasant atmosphere. The walls had been painted a very light minty green, which helped calm him when he got stressed. There was a nice big window, sunlight was streaming through it, and pillows, blankets, and herbs were all over the floor. He must have slept through the storm. Then he remembered what Gio had promised, and raced out of his room, through the main area, and into Gio’s, ready to wake her up and force her to tell him everything. But when Charlie opened the door, Gio was not there. Just a note. He picked it up and began reading it. It read:

Hey Char

Now, I know I said I would tell you everything. But you were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you up. It’s also strictly forbidden to tell anyone what we do in training, or what we learn, by order of the commander. Please don’t be mad. Anyway, my troop leader dropped by and said we were doing the mission now, and that I couldn’t be late. Again, sorry, I know you missed me, don’t try to deny it. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, so please listen to me this one time.

Don’t get into any trouble, try to stay in class, DO NOT pull any pranks, stay safe, and may Amble protect you while I’m gone.

Sincerely,

      Gio

Charlie looked up from the note. He was FURIOUS. How DARE she break her promise to him. How DARE she. He couldn’t do anything about it now. He couldn’t even disobey the note! Gio knew him too well to not work Amble into this. He would just have to wait until she came back. Then he could get the ultimate revenge.

. . .

Three weeks later

. . .

It was just a normal, boring, school day. Charlie was drawing under his desk, and trying his hardest to look like he was paying attention. A knock sounded at the door. “Come in!” Said miss Seina, in her musical voice. The door slowly creaked open, and a robin dreamer with a somber face stood in the doorway. He had a badge on his jacket, angel wings surrounded by darkness. It showed he worked at the battle training. He spoke softly as if he was afraid the world would fall apart if he spoke harder. “Is there a Charlie Gestro here?” Charlie gleefully raised his hand. This could be his big chance! He might be about to get into training! “That would be me, sir,” he said it in his polite voice like he always did when he talked to someone important. “How can I help you?” The man looked sadly at him. “Kid, your sister went on a scouting mission a couple of weeks back, right?” Charlie nodded, confused. “Well, we haven’t heard from them, and when we went to check at the last place they gave us a message, no one was there.” A sinking feeling started setting in. He felt sick. “The campsite was a mess, and there was blood on the ground, as well as human footprints.” Tears started forming in his eyes. No, no this could be right! “We think the humans got them.” Charlie’s drawing fell on the floor. It was of him and Gio, of that one time she joined in on his pranks.

“I’m sorry Charlie. Your sister is dead.”

. . .

Far away from all this and that, a voice shrouded in darkness whispered.

"You're my puppet now, little bird, and you belong to Me."

[kshira]

horrible breakup with a piece of shit boyfriend? that’s okay, mikey got you <3

tw. fem!reader, praise, cursing, good ole love makin’, possessive mikey! mentions of m!masturbation, creampie, soft dom!w/subreader!

wc. 554

an. i have no thoughts but service dom mikey

“mikey” you breathe out, watching him climb over you on the bed, he looks you up and down, fingers clawing at your shorts and hooking a finger on the fabrics.

“what is it pretty?” he smiles, slowly pulling your shorts off noticing the sheen stain over your cunt, “he might hear us” you whimper out as mikey skims his fingers down your smooth legs before running back to your heat.

“so what? maybe he can hear how pretty you’ll sound for me” his lips brush over yours, static eyes flickering over your form once more before crashing his lips on you.

mikey moves gently but with a needy tone, hands dipping under your underwear and spreading his fingers through your folds, mikey hates how this guy has done you all these years, toying with your pitiful heart, always coming home high and smelling of anything but you.

he’d watch everything unfold, and wish he was the one holding you at meetings, receiving your pretty wrapped lunches and behind closed doors those little mewls that always sounded off.

nights were always the worst, thinking about the day when you finally realized mikey has been here this whole time, wanting to claim you as his own, pleasing you and treating you best. all that praying sure has done him some good.

but he hated how he’d fist his cock to the thought of you, perfect lips made of diamond ropes, curling into a smile whenever you greeted him—how they’d look wrapped around his cock, curvy body meant for his hands to hold while he bounces you on his dick and those eyes, fluttery lashes—what they’d look like as he made you cum over and over.

“remember what he’s done to you? all those times he’s made you cry?” mikey reminds you, finger held on your chin as he tilts your face up to him “i’m going to make you feel so good” pulling your panties off your legs with ease leaving you exposed for him.

you cling to mikey in a way you’d never done with him, mikey steadily aligns his cock with your hole, sinking into your warm cunt and he’s met with the cutest noises.

“f-feels good, feels really good” your voice is nothing but a shallow whimper, looking up to mikey as he pumps inside your hole he bends down to place a kiss on your forehead “you’re mine now.”

he washes away the agony, the deep despair of what another has done to you—mikey holds you like a precious jem, cradling your body within his arms as he rolls his hips.

cock dragging tight against your velvet walls and you feel the pool of heat gather in your stomach before dripping down to your cunt, his face buried in the crevice of your neck “cum for me, you know i only can make you cum like this.”

“wanna—i wanna see you cum for me too” you gasp out, cunt clenching to his cock and mikey shivers, his own orgasm already approaching at your honey soaked words.

“let’s cum together, okay angel?” mikey holds you tighter to his chest, lips pressed to your skin as he seeks solace in your messy hole, cock leaking his seed and your pussy creaming around him.

“sanzu really fucked up because i’m never letting you go” mikey whispers, lingering a hand down to feel the mess that connected both of your bodies.

[sandersgrey]

Obsessed with the idea of Kit being baited into thinking Rosemary's alive

I would simply love to see him slowly but surely distancing himself from the Gray-Carstairs; Mina's kidnapping has proved to him that he's putting a target on their backs, that his very presence is a threat, there's no place for him in Cirenworth if he wants them to be safe.

He's not a Carstairs, after all. They love him, but- deep down, he likely feels like a little of an intruder. It's hard to let go of that feeling of not belonging when you've never even quite belonged in your first home.

So hearing that Rosemary might be alive, just being kept prisoner... well, that solves all of his problems, doesn't it?

He wouldnt be putting her in danger. They'd be in danger together.

She's the only one who has ever chosen him first. His family. Sure, Kit never got to know her, but- she would have died for him. That counts for something.

Jem was there when she died, but how much has he said about it to Kit? After this sobh, they're just going to grow more distant. Kit would be perfectly justified in holding onto hope.

And then he realizes he was lied to.

That there is no one on Earth he shares this specific danger with. No one on Earth who only has him to worry about. No family left to go back to, no home, and no hope.

And then I want him to despair.

[cuebooks]

Ave Atque Vale

Main Character: Jem Carstairs

Series: No

Word Count: 2,706

Any questions? Ask them in the comments or in a reblog and I’ll happily answer them

Hope you enjoy!

Art by Cassandra Jean

The white sheet had been placed over Jem. His black hair shading the top. Everyone had said their goodbyes, and all the silent brothers attended— unusual, but he was one of their own, so no one refused. The room was stiff with the weight of tears and the hollowness of sadness, but the light scattered around the room, but the brightest beam shone on Jem’s body, reminding everyone what they couldn’t forget. “We are here for the death of Ke Jian Ming— James ‘Jem’ Carstairs. One of the best of us till his peaceful end. May we follow his example and try to be the best parent, shadowhunter, and loving husband.”

Despite the ghostly echo of voices in Kit’s head, he looked up at his father’s body. He spoke a bit of faerie tongue, a prayer his parabatai taught him. He looked at Ash and saw that he spoke it too. Ever since they became parabatai, Jem treated Ash as a son— even before that. His dad treated everyone like family. That was who he was.

But it didn’t matter who was blood. Not when he found the blue eyes and black hair that Alec and Izzy’s twins carried. “Will,” he whispered, and a slight smile rested on his lips. Will and him had spoken several times over the years— Kit believed it to be that Jem still tethered him to this world; he was his other half; how could he leave that much of himself behind?

He lightly tapped Mina’s shoulder— something only her family and friends called her. To everyone else, she went by Wilhelmina, she wanted to honor Will, wanted to carry his name and memory, and she did so with grace and kindness, the same personality as her father and her mother’s heart. She wanted to let no one forget who and what her parents had done for this world. She peered at Kit, fully grown to his shoulder. And then he squeezed his mother’s hand. She looked at him kindly but with tears dripping from her chin. He wiped them away, and she offered a small smile. “Will is here, mom; he came back to help baba.”

Tessa released a heavy sob and pulled Magnus’s hand. Magnus and them had become very close over the years, and he and Tessa would stay that way. He looked at her and waited for her to speak. “Will is here.” She said and Magnus looked at Kit through tears and smiled, nodding a thank you. “And Jem is leaving,” she realized. “Jem,” she whispered. Like it was the last time she would say his name the same way.

As Tessa looked up at Magnus, he pulled the three into a hug and softly whispered, “Jem will always be here. Lighting up our hearts,” then he let go. He remained at their side— not leaving Tessa, not wanting to leave any of their broken hearts. Max and Rafael walked towards them as Alec scooped up Magnus’s hand and comforted him. His skin wrinkled with happiness and a little stress over the years as their boy’s stood with him—Max at Alec’s height and Rafael at Magnus’s.

Mina pulled on Kit’s sleeve. A practice she did since she was a child. “Kit, I can’t thank you enough.” He held her hand and smiled. Most people thought of a better place after life but Kit allowed them to do something beyond believe. Tessa turned to comfort them, at a loss for anything else to do, and tears started to blot Kit’s skin once again. Hot and thick. And finally, a hand pressed on his lower back. “I’m here, Sherlock. I’ve got you.” Kit turned into Ty and started to cry into his shoulder, as Ty kissed his forehead.

<><><><><>

The sheet started to light up, and Jem stood looking back at it. The sheet aflame now, and all Jem felt was far away. Cold and warm, peaceful, and yet missing his home. Missing his family that stood huddled around his friends and loved ones. Around his body, that carried him from happy memory to happy memory. That carried him to Tessa. To his friends. To his daughter and son.

Jem turned slightly to see Emma and Julian’s children crying in their arms. Jace and Clary’s, standing next to them. Izzy and Simon’s holding their hands as Mark and Cristina sat with theirs. Small hands held onto one hand of Ash and Dru, and a baby nestled into Ty’s arms as he stood beside Kit. Alec stood beside Magnus, who had Tessa close, their children beside them. Ragnor and Catarina stood behind Tessa as Kit and Mina comforted each other. They were all crying, and he wanted it to stop. His heart ached to go back. To tell them he was here, that he was okay. That he wasn’t gone. But he was, his burning body reminding him of something no longer tangible. No longer his.

But Jem smiled at the love in the room, the love he had for all of them. The love they had for him. And frowned at what he was leaving behind. "I guess my cousin was right, "We're all of us alone. In the end.”” He spoke as he stood alone behind the veil of death.

"No, we are not my brother." Jem turned to those blue eyes and wished he could tell Tessa about them. She was always so sad and hard on herself when she could not remember the exact blue. And now, like the blue, his brown eyes would fade from her memory.

“Will,” he whispered out, testing it. “My Will.”

"William." Will winched at the use of his full name.

"James," he retorted. But Jem just shook his head and smiled. “My Jem, look behind you….”

And Jem did, Kit had his face turned toward him, mouthing an ‘I love you.’ Tears glistened, but he nodded, a blessing to go—a promise. And Jem knew he had to go, that his love would remain when he was long gone. He wasn’t afraid of death anymore. He hadn’t been for a while. You lose that fear when you know you don’t face it alone. And here Will was, not letting him face it alone.

"Where are we going?” Jem asked after saying an I love you back. But Will sat there, staring at the generations and his old friends. At the white, at the dancing flames. His eyes rested on Tessa for a second before she looked behind her. And Will smiled at her as she could feel him. She knew he was there; she always did. He missed her. Jem did too. But he also missed Will. He knew he had to go. He missed his family and home with Will.

While tears built in Jem’s throat Will released his. The tears stained with sadness, with a longing to be by Tessa. But Will shook himself, took a deep breath, and turned toward Jem and waved at him to come. “Jem,” he hugged him by surprise and deeply. Jem doing the same, wrinkling each other’s shirt backs with their hands. Jem had always known Will was there, tethered by him, seen by Kit, but this was different. His parabatai was in front of him. And he felt whole and empty. Over filled and not enough. Joy and sadness.

Will let go after a moment, and he turned toward a lake that had not been there before, and Jem looked behind himself, his boy, his daughter, and Tessa were replaced by a forest. He lifted a hand, waved to the forest, to his life and turned back around.

A wood raft stood at the edge of the shore, and suddenly his parabatai appeared on the other side. “You, and only you, can decide if you want to cross.” He outstretched a hand and offered a smile—his black hair ruffling in the wind.

Jem took a deep breath. “Goodbye,” Jem whispered when he looked back at the forest. And then he stepped on the light colored raft— toward Will. Across the body of water. Across the veil of death into something else. And he slowly drifted to Will. Like time wanted to give him a chance now. To stop time, to go back to the land where time was never enough. But his life was enough. He couldn’t have asked for more. For a better wife, stronger children, kinder friends— he had that and now he was returning to the person he didn’t have enough time with. No— time was not giving him a chance to go back, time was giving him a chance to move on. And he did. He outstretched a hand and the ripple of his tears hitting the water pushed him faster.

When he approached the bank, Will became brighter; everything did, the world lost a shade of blue that had been there before, and Jem had never noticed.

The blue faded and was replaced with a bright, rich yellow. He was complete now, with Will and eventually Tessa. When the sun burned out, when the world was not strong enough, he would be reunited with her-- with everyone. He was away from Tessa but never without her— just like Will. They had their time with her; now they have time with each other till they have time all together.

<><><><><>

Jem smiled at the thought of his daughter. Jem wanted to walk into the building he stood in front of— inside to his wife, his daughter and his boy, to the house he waited so long for. Fought so hard for. But he could not. He was somewhere else now.

And the setting sun had dyed the clouds a color darker than gold. And Jem and Will stood outside the London institute, the exact one Will and Tessa renovated. And when he walked inside, the room was warm and the laughter bright. The smiles and fabric plentiful. Everyone familiar, but they were all in their mid 20’s like time froze them there.

By the fire sat Lucie and Cordelia, chittering and chatting. Alastair and Thomas were resting against each other on a settee in a conversation with Christopher, Thomas and Cyril Tanner, and Thomas's parents.

Thomas's sisters talked behind Thomas with Kamala. Grace and Jesse walking to Lucie and Cordelia. Charles, Charlotte, Gabriel, Cecily, Sona, and Henry spoke in a circle and laughed. But Elias was nowhere to be found.

The fire looked familiar to Jem. Until he remembered all the dinners in the London institute, he stood in the place he once found his parabatai and shelter in. The place where secrets were spilled, loyalties proved, disappointed looks lived, and where all of them stood now. The atmosphere was still familiar but lighter now, less tense and filled with voices, filled with love and new memories. "Now tell me all about your life, the Herondales, tell me about everything, please. I need to know how amazing my line is.” Will pulled him closer to everyone with a small chuckle, and Matthew shouted happily, “Uncle Jem!" His glass of water tipping slightly.

And everyone turned and walked to him. Alastair and Cordelia hugged him after Charlotte and Henry, who both had tears on their faces. Jeers and smiles spread through the group as they welcomed him back.

Jem moved and took a spot on the couch and couldn't help but miss his family, and yet he felt a rush of happiness to be reunited with everyone he lost. He didn't let go of Will. It had been much too long without him, and he felt happy to be whole again. Tessa was always his soul mate, but Will was his other half, and right now, Will smiled at him and let him speak. "Well, the Silent brother part I will tell eventually, but how I became me starts with a story of Fairchilds, Lightwoods, and a Herondale. And eventually Blackthorns and Carstairs. I have an amazing son— Kit, and a daughter named Wilhelmina or Mina for short.” Will smiled at him, at Jem. A name for a name. A memory of someone you didn't want to live without.

Jem told the story of his life. Memories strong, laughter abundant, and love deep. Tears of happiness and his face tired from a smile. They listened intently. They loved every story and memory painted by his words. How Clary and Jace are raising the next generation of Herondales; Ash and Dru doing the same with Fairchilds. He even noted how Drusilla thought it was ironic that she had redheads and the signature blackthorn green-blue-eyed children.

That Clary and Jace had a blond and green-eyed little boy and their little girl had gold eyes like James’s and a heart like Cordelia, how they both had the wit of Herondales; and a heart like Fairchilds. How Julian and Emma were paving the way for future Carstairs; Emma believing her daughter was ready to start training with Cortana, her birthright as a Carstairs, and how their son was learning the Violin and Piano and was just like Alastair. How Alastair's taped voice still rings through the halls and how Cordelia's life story is told like everyone else's here. That Lucie’s and Will’s books are still read and loved. How happy Mark, Cristina, and Kieran are with Cristina's and Mark's children. How Helen and Aline adopted Shadowhunter-Seelie twins that are entranced by their mom and mama running the LA institute. How Magnus was doing, which made Will happy that his wandering heart could rest and impressed him with his ever-growing influence and power. How well Alec and Izzy were leading their lightwood children. And how good of a father and person Simon was. How amazing Diego and Alec were doing as Inquisitor and Consul. How the future looked bright, even when Izzy and her son conducted exploding experiments like Christopher and how her daughters were the generation's best shadowhunters.

Jem was crying, and laughing through the stories. Everyone was; they were overjoyed with his return.

Jem continued his life story with the adventures that he had with Tessa, Magnus, Catarina, and Ragnor. He went on so many that made him smile and thought he might see Will much sooner. About how the new generations have made bigger and better efforts to make everyone equal, how downworlders and Shadowhunters were completely equal by law now, how even Vampires and Werewolves were friends. How strong and bright everyone is.

Jem remembered Maia and Lily standing next to each other, looking at Jem. He remembered his children and Tess. He loved his friends and his life, but it was time to wish them a good life and wait for them until Raziel would take them.

The past and present; happy and content. Finding peace after so long.

Jem wouldn’t forget Tess; he would wait for her like Will was, like how Will had waited for him. He would wait for his children and hear their stories. He knew it was his time, he knew he would miss the beat of life, but he missed this too. He missed everyone here.

Alastair took his hand and brought him to the piano, and sat down. Will handed him his violin and sat beside Alastair. Alastair started to play, and Will followed. Jem began to play as well— an old Welsh song Will taught him. Cordelia had already pulled Lucie off her chair and started to swirl and spin with her. When Alastair started to sing, everyone was up dancing and playing.

Jem knew he would be okay. He was happy and complete. Sad for now, but happy. He knew this is where he belonged and he relished in his family, and the memories he could make.

Will smiled at him cheekily, and Jem started to play faster, catching the signal— a signal he never forgot, and he smiled when he knew nothing changed— a leap into another song that Alastair caught before Thomas pulled him from the bench and danced with him. Making Will and Jem laugh. Will filled in and completed the song with Jem. Laughter once again flooded the room. The sun started to set outside, setting on old dawn as the windows started to be flecked with snow. Fresh and new.

Note: sorry I couldn’t do the ‘read more tab.’ I currently don’t have a computer to do so.

Tag list: @itsjusta-j-really @magigingercal @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @cutesheepsstuff

[wagner-fell]

I am still very new to this website and I don’t know how link a post but this fic is based on a post by @sandersgrey

(If someone reading this knows how to link a post please either explain it to me or link it in the comments because that post is *amazing*)

“Hmmm,” said Tessa, depositing Mina into Kit’s waiting arms and examining her buzzing phone critically. She shot a quizzical look in his direction.

Jem looked up from his novel. “What is ‘hmmm’, my love?”

Kit mimed vomiting but stopped dead in his tracks when she replied, “it’s Astrid’s mother. You remember her from parent teacher night, don’t you, my darling?” Kit swears they were being extra insufferable just to mess with him but he didn’t have the time to be annoyed when Astrid’s. Mom. Was. Calling. Tessa.

To understand why Kit was panicking as much as he was, you must know that Astrid’s mom was incredibly chill. She never got mad. The worst punishment she’d ever given her daughter was taking away her iPod for a week so she couldn’t listen to Mitski.

Was she calling about last night when Astrid, Mari and Kit threw eggs at the Shadowhunter’s that were giving Mari’s pack a hard time for no reason? No, that couldn’t be it. She’d given them the eggs.

Could the call be about the day before yesterday when Kit and Astrid got distracted doing homework and ended up snapping the coffee table clean in half while battling gladiator style with pool noodles? No, that wasn’t it. She’d just handed Astrid a twenty and told them to go to Kevin’s parents' shop and get a new one. Was she pissed because they ended up spending the money on ice cream instead? No, they ended up finding a table for free in the rubbing bin outside a fancy hotel.

Kit clutched his sister to his chest and prepared for the worst.

“Seo-yoon! What can I do for- Oh, hello Astrid!” Tessa paused briefly, presumably to listen to Astrid speak, and Kit sighed in relief.

“Kit is occupied at the moment but I can relay the message.” Another pause. “Oh don’t be frightened of me. I’m a tots rad mom. Your secret is safe with me.” Kit felt his face flush red as he heard his best friend’s laughter echo across the living room. “Okay! I’ll let him know. He has to get Mina to sleep before he can leave though. Lord knows he’s the only one who can these days.” Tessa chuckled at something Astrid said before wishing her good luck in her endeavour and ending the call.

She turned her attention back to Kit. “Astrid needs your help breaking into your teacher’s home to retrieve her cell phone.”

Kit blinked at her, dumbfounded. “You aren’t mad I’m going to go break the law?”

Because of course he was doing it. Astrid’s dad had bought it for her and he was extremely cautious about money. That was one of three things Kit knew about her dad. He was cheap, he lived in America and he loved the movie Fight Club.

Tessa ruffled Kit’s hair affectionately. “Please. I’ve raised two other Herondales. At least I know about this particular adventure beforehand.”

Mina began snoring softly and Kit handed her back to her mother. He grabbed his bag and started his journey to the door when Tessa added, “she also told me to say hi to a ‘daddy Kit’. Are you ‘daddy Kit?’”

‘Daddy Kit’ closed his eyes and wished for the sweet release of death.

“Why is Kit a daddy,” Jem asked, genuinely confused. “Aren’t I the daddy?”

Kit swung the door open so fast not even a speed rune could have aided him. But not before I heard Tessa reply, “Lily Chen certainly thinks so.”

Mrs. MacNamara clapped her hands together. “Why don’t we all go around and say a few things about ourselves?”

Kit buried his face into his hands. He’d been relieved when no other teacher had fulfilled the Disney channel stereotype of making every student introduce themselves to the new kid. But Mrs. MacNamara didn’t even seem to realize what she was doing.

All Kit’s fellow classmates groan. Expect one. Her hand shot up immediately. She was short, like smaller than Clary short. She wore a baggy pink shirt with the words ‘Queen Glimmer of Etheria’ sewed on with purple sequins and tight black jeans. Her colourful, choppy hair was in a low ponytail and she flew a few strands out of her eyes as her hand wiggled in the hair.

Mrs. MacNamara pointed at her. She stood up and smiled at Kit. “Hi. My name is Astrid. My hobbies include making my little cousin’s girl Barbies kiss, as it should be, and watching television shows where everyone is a terrible person so you can love all of them!”

“And what shows might that be?” asked Kit, already in the process of pulling out his phone and opening the Notes app.

“Grey’s Anatomy, Glee, Grey’s Anatomy again because it’s seventeen seasons as of right now. And to be fair it practically became a different show when they killed off Mark Sloan.”

“That’s enough, Miss Yang,” said Mrs. MacNamara. Astrid sat down and winked at Kit. Then she took out her phone and airdropped him a complete list of all her favorite shows, along with her number.

After Blessica’s pre-birthday birthday party, they went to Cirenworth and stayed up till four A.M. binging them.

They met outside a queer dry bar called Aries Not Welcome, the unspoken gathering place of the Merry Hoes. It was run by a poly lesbian couple in their mid-thirties. Quinn, Sydney and Aliyah may not have served alcohol but at least they were open 24/7.

“Did you bring the shit?”

Kit gave her a look. “The shit? How conclusive.”

“Shut up. You know, the shadowhunter thing.”

“The shadowhunter thing?”

“The, the, the glow stick that you draw with.”

“The glow stick that I draw wi-“ Kit closed his eyes briefly. “Do you mean a stele?”

Astrid snapped her fingers. “That’s it!” Kit shook his head in exasperation, smiling fondly. “I borrowed a torch from Quinn, let’s move.”

“Should I be worried that you know where Mr. Smith lives?” questioned Kit as he followed Astrid’s lead through the park.

“Should I be worried that your mom was fine with us breaking and entering?” she shot back playfully. Kit pushed Astrid and she fell off the path, laughing all the way.

“You called me ‘daddy’ to my mom’s face.”

She just laughed harder, slinging her arm around Kit’s shoulder. “It was over the phone, Christopher. And as I should.”

“Pffffttt. Why did you get your phone taken anyway?” She put her hands into her jumper pocket and looked at the ground. “Astrid.” She remained silent. “Astrid?”

She mumbled something under her breath. “What?” asked Kit.

“I WAS READING NINEJ FANFICTION!” she shouted.

Kit gasped. “I thought you were a die hard Kanej shipper,” he whispered.

“I’m a multishipper, okay?!” she replied, equally quiet.

“Does Blessica know?”

She shook her head. “And she will never find out.”

Kit saw the opportunity and he seized it. “She’ll never find out as long as you never call me daddy in front of either of my parents.”

She removed her arm from his shoulder and guided them out of the park, in the direction of the many apartments that lined this side of town. “I hate you.”

“Well, so does Mari. You're not special, Ast.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know Mari doesn’t actually hate you, right?! They’re just still in the enemy phase of your enemies-to-lovers romance. She only dislikes you because they feel something for you but they don’t know what so she interrupts it as loathing. In reality, her inner soul knows you’re hot and shmexie.”

Kit didn’t know how to process this so he just nodded and follow Astrid in silence to Mr. Smith’s house. (Plus, he was kinda glad that, according to his best friend, he had a little more time for Mari to ‘discover their true feelings’. If Kit screwed this up, he was out of countries to run off to.)

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What,” asked Kit, turning around to face Astrid and closing the drawer he was rifling through. “Did you find your phone?”

“Yeah. But I also found Blessica’s. She was Snapping Kevin. Platonic my ass. But he took the fucking trans flag out of her phone!”

Kit snatched Blessica’s phone out of her hand to examine it for herself. She was telling the truth. Where the glitter pride flag usually rested was just a clear purple case. Kit couldn’t believe his eyes.

“It’s one thing to misgender her every day.” Blessica had forced all four of the other Merry Hoes to sign a contract saying they wouldn’t do anything to harm him because of it. “But this is the last straw. You know what we have to do.” Oops.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any spray paint.”

Kit eyed Mr. Smith’s pink sofa, blue bar stool covers and white picture frames. “I think I have something better in mind.”

It would have been easier for both parties to just zip off the sofa cushions and tape them to the wall but by ripping them off in strips, they ensured he would have to buy new ones. And judging by the car he drove and the fiji water in his fridge, Mr. Smith could definitely afford it.

That reminded him, “I’ll finish up with this. Go put all his fiji water into my bag.” Astrid saluted him and ran off. “Wait.” She stopped and looked at him. “Steal all the remotes you can find.”

“How is he not awake?,” asked Astrid as they ripped the fabric of his seating from the stool.

He shrugged. “Don’t question it.” He shoved the bundle of cloth into her arms. “Glue this above the pink. I’ll handle the frames.”

“Say the magic word,” she sang.

“Please?”

“No. Lesbian. Come on, I thought you knew me better than that.”

Kit laughed quietly. “Can you lesbian glue this above the pink?”

She grinned at Kit. “It would be my pleasure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hello! Sorry I haven’t written anything in so long. School just restarted and it has been…a lot.

@adoravel-fenomeno @thechangeling @the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @noah-herondale-lightwood @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @maxboythedog @book-dragon-not-worm @hardlymatters

Very sorry if I forgot anyone. Lmk if you want to be addEd/removEd from the tag list.

[hobbitsnapes]

the elf in the café chapter 1

A corpse husband story

(I do not own this photo, nor do I know where it originated from. All credit goes to the artist.)

Summary: Never in his life, did he think going to a cafe and meeting a Harry Potter nerd could change his life. (I’m shit at summaries)

A/N: H/N means his name, being that we don’t know what his actual name is currently.

The instant smell of coffee hit him as soon as he slept in, giving the entire atmosphere a warm, welcoming feel. That would be if his heart wasn’t hammering against his chest the closer he got to ordering. His palms growing damp in his pocket the closer he gets to the front desk.

He doesn’t even realize it the line has moved until he looks up, spotting the young woman behind the desk looking at him. “Hi what can I get for you?” His heart dropped at the question, forgetting what he was going to initially order. “Uh, tea, black tea.” He stammered, hoping they wouldn’t notice his hands shaking. “Okay coming right up sir.”

His feet dragged against the hardwood flooring, trying to calm himself down as he neared the back of the cafe. ‘It’s fine, you need to go out more.’ He repeats to himself. His heart finally calming down slightly as he sits, taking a sip of the bitter drink.

“Hi there um, mind if I sit here?” His heart steamers when he hears it, instantly looking up at the person, his breath getting caught in his throat. There stood a girl, with short black hair that framed her face. Glasses perched on her nose, they looked to be nearly falling off. She wore a dark red sweater over a white button up, tucked into black high waisted jeans. “I’m terribly sorry to ask, there’s just no other seats available. I just need to get some work done is all.” She says, voice calm but a hint of worry in it. He clears his throat, finally realizing he hasn’t said a word. “Uh yeah sure.” He replies, voice slightly wavering. “Thank you so much.” She replies, setting her laptop and notebook out.

They both sat in silence, neither paying much attention to one another. But he couldn’t help his curiosity, once in a while taking a look at her. Her brows furrowed slightly, clear concentration writen on her face. Fisher goes from reading from her laptop, to writing something down on her notebook. He wondered what she could be reading, curiosity nearly making him take a look at her papers. But she was way to close for him to, knowing she’ll catch him doing so.

She sat and tried not to pay kind to him, but it was hard doing do. She could feel him once in a while look at her, it never made her feel uncomfortable, or that she should move. She just couldn’t help but notice his eyes watching her once in a while as she wrote out the rough draft of her essay.

She took a large sip of her coffee, growing tired and hoping the warm drink would wake her up. Noticing that her drink was now empty.

“Here’s your refil maim. Have a good day.” The waitress says, walking away from the table. She starts chuckling, trying to cover her mouth to stop. He watched in wonder, questions flooding his mind. Why is she laughing? Does she know the waitress?

He looks at her in question, completely perplexed as to why she’s laughing at the meeer Exchange.

She let out one last chuckle, looking him in the eyes with a smile still on her face. “I’m sorry, I’m kinda weird. And my brain likes to come up with even weirder things. When she brought my drink over, all I could think was, master has given dobby chi latte, dobby is basic white girl!” She laughs, mimicking the elf’s voice. He spits his drink out, laughed bubbling out from him. Causing her to laugh even harder.

“No but seriously, it’s so mean how confusing some of those spells are, I mean what if one kid had a wicked lisp and couldn’t say it right.” She laughed, causing him to snort. “No what’s mean is, nobody ever thought to use the episkey spell to heal Harry’s eyes.” He laughs out, causing her to throw her head back in laughter.

Both of them sat in the corner of the cafe for hours, enjoying the small bubble they’ve created between them. It was strange, he hadn’t felt this easy in years. He wasn’t scared to talk to her, wasn’t worried about how he looked or if he said the right thing. Nothing, he truly felt at ease. His heart fluttering when he watched her laugh, it wasn’t the first by any means, but the look of sheer joy writen on her face was a sight he couldn’t look away from.

She couldn’t help but watch as his head throws back in laughter. Deep rumbling laughter erupt from his lips. She couldn’t look away even if she tried. His dark brown eyes barley visible behind his lashes peaked out like jems. His smile so warm, she couldn’t help but mimic it. His curly black hair kept falling in his face, watching as he continuily kept brushing it away.

“I can’t, I can’t.” He wheezes out, hand clutching his stomach. Tears fall from his eyes as laughter choked him up. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard, since my mom told me about the time I tried flushing out cat down the toilet.” She laughs out, causing him to double over laughing. “What!” He laughs out. “I was like 4 okay. But anyway, whenever one of my fish died, my mom always told me to flush them down the toilet. She said it was a straight shot to heaven. Well our car had asthma, and it was really bad for a while. Well, my mom came home to hear the cat screaming. She went to go find where, and found me trying to force her into the toilet and flushing her. When she asked me later that night why I did it, I said, ‘you said it’s a straight shot to heaven!’ I promise I’m not a horrible person, I was just really stupid.” She laughs out, both now red in the face.

“I did not expect my day to go like this, but I can’t complain either.” He says, causing a smile to foarm on her face. “Me neither, I’m always by myself when I come here. It’s, nice having someone to talk to.” “Yeah, it is really nice.” He says, a smile etched on his face.

“Hey, I hate to say this, but I’ve gotta get back home.” He says, his heart panging at the sad expression on her face. “Oh It’s perfectly fine, I didn’t even see how long we’ve been here.” She says, her voice not matching the look on her face. “Speaking of which, I never got your name?” She asks. “It’s H/N. Yours?” “Y/N.”

As he walks out the door, he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around and sees her, his breath catching in his throat again. “Hey I don’t usually do this, but I had a really great time today. I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna do it again sometime?” She asks, her voice wavering and shaky. His heart fluttering again as a smile grows on his face. “I’d like that, you busy tomorrow? Same time?” He asks, smiling at the large smile on her face. “That’s perfect.” She says, a smile on her face as she walks away.

He tosses and turns in his bed, the idea of sleep long gone. He couldn’t help but think of her, how kind she was. He felt so at ease with her, feeling truly like a normal person. He wasn’t worried about anything, mind only focused on her. A smile grows on his face, wishing for the late hours to go by faster.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

if this was a dream pt. 2

Part 1 | AO3 | Fanfiction Masterlist

Thomas tried to steady himself as Alastair walked - no, more like ran - away. What was he doing here, by his bedside? In what universe would his parents allow Alastair Carstairs to sit with him while they slept? He seemed to recall many nights in his youth when his mother refused to sleep at all when he was unwell. 

His mind ran through countless possibilities, each one less likely than the last, until his parents rushed into his room. He pushed those thoughts aside as mother ran to him, cupping his face in her hands and gently kissing his forehead. “We were so worried. How are you feeling?” 

Besides blinding rage? He took a moment to actually consider the question. He’d been too distracted by the Alastair fiasco to take notice of it all. Alastair said that he had been injured. “Er, my head hurts, but other than that, I feel alright.”

She smiled. “That’s good. You were attacked on patrol about three days ago, and your injuries were quite severe. There’s a Silent Brother lingering around here somewhere, we should fetch him to check on you. I’m so glad you’re feeling alright, love.” 

“Alright is one word for not being able to remember the past six months,” Eugenia commented, appearing in the doorway. 

Both of his parents looked alarmed. “What do you mean?” his father asked. 

“That’s what-” She cut herself off abruptly. “Thomas, what month is it?” 

“Um…” He thought for a moment. Now that she mentioned it, he was feeling a bit blurry. Was the engagement party last week? Two weeks ago, perhaps? “It’s August.”

His mother looked at him worriedly. 

“What?” 

“It’s February,” Eugenia answered. She was always the most blunt out of all of them.

Thomas wasn’t sure how to respond, but his mother quickly reassured, “That’s alright, dear. I’ll go find the Silent Brother now. I’m sure this will pass as your head heals.” 

She left the room and Eugenia came to the chair that Alastair had been sitting in earlier. She sighed. “I know you’re mad at him.” It took him a moment to realize she was talking about Alastair. “You should be, but also… try to keep in mind that a lot has happened over the past six months.” 

He could feel the anger rising in his bloodstream again, but there was only so much he was willing to say with his father present. “Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that…” He trailed off. What was being implied here? He had no idea what was happening at all. 

“Believe what you must, then,” Eugenia exhaled. 

“Well, what did happen in the last six months?” 

Eugenia thought for a moment. “Hm, let’s see… Well, Rosamund and Thoby got engaged. Cordelia and James got married, kind of. Matthew got a flat! And a car. And he’s trying to quit drinking now, though that’s a bit new, maybe don’t bring it up. Let’s see… There was the whole serial killer bit, we fought a couple of Princes of Hell, Lilith showed up, Lucie raised Jesse Blackthorn from the dead… Oh, I’m sure I’m missing some things. Your friends can explain it better.” 

Thomas could only stare in response. 

“See? Is your relationship with Alastair Carstairs truly the most shocking thing to have happened in the past six months?” 

Thomas’ head had ached before, but now he could feel it pounding, trying to process all that his sister had just rattled off. “I- What-” He flashed his gaze towards his father, who seemed a bit concerned, but not the least bit surprised or upset. “My- I don’t-” 

“I can see now that I’ve said far too much. You know what? It’s fine. Most of that doesn’t even matter anyways. The parts that do, well, you’ll figure them out. Besides, your memories may come back soon enough anyways. And it’s all truly not as dramatic as it sounds listed out like that.” 

Thomas closed his eyes and tried to shove all of those thoughts, his sister’s words, the many questions needing answers, into some corner of his brain to be picked up later. “Perhaps we can just… avoid that as a topic of conversation.” 

“Of course,” his sister said quickly. “By ‘that’ you mean-” 

Gideon cut her off by clearing his throat. “Genie, would you please find Bridget and request some food be brought up for your brother, now that he’s awake.” 

She shot out of her seat with nervous energy. “Of course. I’ll be back.” 

Once she was out the door, he chuckled gently. “I have no idea how she still has that much energy after staying awake for nearly three straight days.” 

Thomas bit at the inside of his lip. “It was bad, wasn’t it?” 

Gideon nodded solemnly. “You’re alright now, though, and you’re awake. That’s what is important.” He paused. “I know this has all been a lot to take in, but you needn’t worry about any of it, truly. All that matters to any of us right now is that you heal. You should try to rest, if only because Eugenia is less likely to harass you if it looks like you’re sleeping.” 

He gave him a small smile and tried to relax. He attempted, unsuccessfully, to quiet the noise in his brain. Alastair, sitting by his bedside. The look on Alastair’s face as he fled the room. How his entire family had seemingly accepted Alastair as part of his life, as his… partner? Had Alastair sat with them these three long days, hoping, praying, that he would wake? 

It didn’t make sense. Alastair had spread cruel rumors, terrible lies, about Thomas’ family. Rumors that had made his mother weep. He’d hurt Matthew so badly that the scars showed even now, four years later. He’d had a crush on Alastair in school, of course. Just a silly schoolboy crush, running after the witty and mysterious older boy with cutting words and sad eyes. Thomas had thought, for a moment, that he was falling in love with him, back in Paris. He kicked himself at the thought of it now. He’d been terribly lonely and feeling alienated, of course he would fall at the feet of the first person he connected with. 

He felt it again, though, when Alastair arrived in London, in those stolen conversations at parties or in the laboratory. He knew now that the Alastair he’d shown to Thomas was not true. It was a facade he put on to please him, a trick. That Alastair would never be able to say such terrible things about his loved ones, even as some strange, sick act. This must be another trick, Thomas thought, one that he’d seemingly convinced not only Thomas of but everyone else, too. 

Thomas silently scolded himself. There were much bigger issues to worry about than Alastair Carstairs’ games, such as the fact that he’d nearly died a few days prior or that Lucie had apparently raised Jesse Blackthorn from the dead. Those were the types of things that he should be worried about, or even the fact that this meant that it had been over half a year without his sister, or that he’d turned 19 last month and could not remember. And yet, his mind lingered. 

His mother returned soon after with Brother Shadrach. Thomas allowed himself a moment of silent relief that it was not Brother Zachariah. He had no issue with Jem, but he suspected that his presence would make it a bit difficult to keep his mind off of a different Carstairs. 

Brother Shadrach did a short physical evaluation. Thomas still had several wounds that had not finished healing, but they were reportedly improving nicely. His head injury was a different story. 

With these types of injuries, recent memories are typically more affected than older ones. Only time will tell whether the amnesia is temporary or not. It is likely that even if you begin to regain your older memories, some of your most recent memories will never return, even if that is merely the days or weeks leading up to the attack. 

Sophie thanked him for all of his help, and he left them with orders that Thomas be allowed light physical activity as he finished healing, though he should avoid anything that may make his headache worsen, such as reading. Or Alastair Carstairs, Thomas had wanted to add, though he did not. 

Over the next several hours, his family tapered off in shifts, finally allowing themselves much-needed rest and meals now that they were certain that Thomas was alright. 

It was Eugenia’s shift when he woke from a nap with too much restless energy to lie in bed any longer. “I’m going to walk around a bit,” he announced. 

She sat up, closing the book she was reading. “I’ll come with you, then.” 

“That’s alright, you don’t need to. Brother Shadrach said I’m allowed to walk around. I’m meant to avoid headaches, though, and I’d rather not have you talking my ears off.” 

Genie’s face fell. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t- That came out wrong. I only meant that I’d like some time alone.” 

“I know what you meant.” She looked back down at the book in her lap. “Go. You have until I finish this chapter, and then I’m coming to find you.” 

His wandering eventually led him to the library, though he was not meant to do any actual reading. In the library, however, was a man. 

“Why are you still here?” Thomas asked. 

Alastair looked up from the book he was holding. “I- Thomas! I didn’t realize that you were walking around.” 

“Yes, according to Brother Shadrach, my head injury has not affected my ability to walk.” 

“Right-” 

“You still haven’t answered my question. Go home, Carstairs. How many times do I need to tell it to you? Do you need it in a different language?” He was about to tell Alastair to leave in Farsi when he was cut off. 

“No, I’ll go.” He shut his book and stood up. “I’m sorry. I did not intend to bother you again, I simply-” 

“I don’t know what game you’re playing or how you’ve managed to convince my whole family of it, too, but it won’t work anymore.” 

“Thomas, there’s no-” 

“Cease constantly addressing me by my first name. We’re not schoolboys any longer. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” 

Alastair couldn’t seem to find the words to respond, though his expression was as unreadable as ever. 

Thomas could feel tears burning in his eyes. “I thought that you were different, but I was wrong. I will not allow myself to fall for your lies again.” 

“Very well, Mr. Lightwood. I will take my leave. I did not wish to upset you.” His face was still blank. 

“Really? Because you don’t seem to care all that much. We’re meant to be in a relationship, or something, according to my sister, but it doesn’t even seem like you care that I hate you.” 

There, just for a moment, was a flicker across Alastair’s face, though Thomas couldn’t quite catch what it was. He thought for a moment before finally responding. “You’re allowed to hate me, T- Perhaps you should. It matters not to me because as long as you hate me, you are awake and you are alive, and that is an easier reality to contend with than one where you are… not alive. I hope you feel better, Mr. Lightwood.” 

Thomas opened his mouth to respond, but was too flustered to find the words. He stared as he watched Alastair walk out of the library. For a moment, he thought that perhaps he would look back at him, but he simply kept walking, turning the corner towards the front entrance of the Institute.

Thanks for all of your support! taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @doitforthecarstairs @lifewouldbebetteronmars @delusioneon @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood

Part 3