#gracetopher fanfiction

[zoyalannister]

Gracetopher week 2024

Day 1: Free day

@gracetopher-week

Read on Ao3

AU where not only professional volleyball is co-ed, but also in the UK is as popular as football and rugby.  It's heavily inspired by The Sunshine Court. 1328 words.

Christopher’s car stopped in front of the sports hall, and for the first time, Grace saw the place where she would play for the next three seasons: the home of the London Lions. 

She followed Christopher as he opened the door with a set of keys, and they walked through the halls, where she glanced at the posters of various former players.

Grace knew the Lightwoods had basically built up the team from nothing, but nevertheless, she was impressed by the pictures of Gideon and Gabriel Lightwood, their statistics from twenty years ago shown below their smiling faces, and by Cecily Lightwood’s (or Cecily Herondale, seeing as she was still unmarried back then), whose record of scored points and aces was still unbeaten. 

In more recent years, Christopher, his sister Anna, and his cousin Thomas had been the new Lightwoods in the team; Grace knew that Christopher’s older cousins, Barbara and Eugenia, despite not playing the game, were deeply involved in the administrative part of the Lions.

(Grace was sure that one of the two sisters had written the contract she’d signed in a haste the day before).

“Do you want to see the pitch or the changing room first?”

Christopher’s voice brought her back to reality.

“The pitch,” she said, unflinching. 

He guided her through the corridors, and Grace held her breath as they walked to the pitch: it was the same brownish color of her old team’s floor, but at the center, split in two symmetrical halves by the net, there was the white roaring lion, the symbol of her new team. 

A sensation she couldn’t describe rose in Grace’s chest: Tatiana had made her hate the sport she used to enjoy, especially since it had kept her away from her adoptive mother—until that, too, had become a way for Tatiana to torment her with the excuse of pushing her to do her best. 

In a flash, she saw all the times Tatiana had beaten her because she hadn’t been fast enough, or hadn’t jumped high enough, or her spikes hadn’t been as strong or as precise as required.

“Are you okay?” Christopher asked her.

Grace blinked a couple of times and met his concerned gaze. “Yes, don’t worry.”

She’d met him not even twenty-four hours earlier, but Christopher seemed to read her clearly, as though he’d known her all her life. 

A few weeks ago, Grace had decided she’d had enough of Tatiana’s abuses and, being nineteen, had been free to sign with a professional team without her mother’s authorization.

She’d been following the London Lions for a few years, initially because Tatiana hated the guts out of her brothers’ team and Grace had been curious to find out why, but then because she’d become addicted to their game and she’d turned into a fan before she could even realize it.

So she’d had no qualms into sending an email to Cecily Lightwood, the CEO of the team, where she’d attached her statistics from all her university team championships (and some YouTube videos of her most spectacular actions) and asked if she could sign with the Lions for the next season.

(Grace had realized later that she’d been incredibly bold and entitled, but she had been desperate and maybe a little bit drunk when she’d drafted the email).

To her surprise, instead, three days later, she’d received an email from the administrative team with the contract for three seasons, without even asking her for a tryout. 

Grace had signed it and sent it back as quickly as possible, but somehow, Tatiana had found out and had kicked her out of her house. Grace had only been carrying her phone, her driving license and some pocket money, and she’d bought a train ticket for London and sent another email to Cecily Lightwood explaining her situation. Soon after, while sitting on the train that would take her away from Leeds, she’d received a text from an unknown number.

This is Anna Lightwood, the Lions’ captain. My brother has a spare room in his apartment, you can stay there until you find your own place. 

Grace hadn’t had the time to reply with her thanks that she’d received another text.

He’s picking you up from the station.

And there he’d been, waiting for her out of King’s Cross sitting on the boot of his car while talking on the phone, and he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

Of course, Grace had seen Christopher Lightwood on television, when she’d streamed the games on her iPad, sometimes in post-match interviews, but seeing him in person was totally different. He looked handsome in a way that cameras couldn’t really capture, and he’d introduced himself with a warm smile before inviting her into his car and his apartment. 

Grace had noticed that he was careful not to ask her why she’d come to London one month before the season started or why she had nowhere to go; he’d just explained to her that Thomas, his cousin, had just moved to Istanbul to play in Turkey for the upcoming championship, but he’d seemed to understand that something was off with her. 

He hadn’t pushed, though, and when she’d told him over breakfast that she wanted to see the sports hall, he’d accepted without qualms.

“You look pale,” Christopher said now. “There’s a vending machine next to the locker room—take some water and a snack.”

Grace, not trusting her own voice, just nodded and followed him. It was weird to have someone worrying over her, but in a way, that simple gesture warmed her heart.

She didn’t need either water or snacks, though, and when she saw the door that led to the lockers, she asked, “Can I see the locker room first?”

Christopher seemed a bit surprised by her request, but said, “Of course.”

He let her in, and Grace found herself in the room with benches, lockers and gear hanging in front of each one of the latter. 

The home jersey was golden, with numbers, logo and other details rendered in white. No, not white, Grace realized as she got closer to Christopher’s jersey, which had his last name and a 21 printed on the back: the details were of a very light silver that the camera couldn’t catch, which made it look white.

“Barbara told me you haven’t picked up a number yet,” Christopher said. “If you want, you can tell me now.”

Grace glanced at the other Lightwood jersey, the one belonging to Anna, with the number 10.

She knew that the Lions gave the numbers between nine and twelve to their strongest players, but Grace didn’t have the audacity to ask for those. 

“Which numbers are available?”

“Well…” Christopher seemed to think about it for a moment. “There’s one…”

If you’re not the number one you’re a failed athlete.

Tatiana’s voice made her flinch.

“No, not the number one.”

She stared at Christopher and thought he looked incredibly cute when he was focused. In an interview, he’d said why he hadn’t taken either twelve or eleven—back when Thomas was still in the team, he’d been nine—and he’d explained that he wanted to have his own number and not the ones people expected him to pick, and he’d chosen twenty-one because it was his father’s number reversed. 

Grace had liked his way of seeing numbers and their meaning, and who could advise her best?

“What do you suggest?” she asked him in an impulse. “Any lucky number?”

Christopher mulled it over for a while. “My parents say that five is their special number, but I don’t know if you’d like it.”

God only knew that she needed good luck, and, despite knowing him for less than a day, Grace liked the idea of having something connecting her to Christopher.

When she closed her eyes and imagined the Lions’ jersey with the name Blackthorn printed above a big 5, Grace couldn’t help but smile.

“Five it is, then.”

[zoyalannister]

Try to guess where my fanfics stand

Sometimes fanfiction is a love letter to canon, and sometimes fanfiction is pounding on canon's door and yelling for it to get out here so you can kick its ass.

[gracetopher-week]

Gracetopher Week 2024:

Hello everyone! Sorry for the late post. I got some questions about whether we were doing it this year, well here we are! Here are our prompts! All forms of media are welcome for the week (Ex: Fanfic, fanart, aesthetics, playlists, HCs, etc.), we're just happy to see people celebrate Grace and Christopher. This year we're going to try prompts instead of different forms of content like we did the last two (2022), (2023) years. Please tag your posts #gracetopherweek 2024 and or #gracetopherweek. Here are the prompts!

Day 1: Free Day

As an apology for not posting the prompts pretty late and not giving everyone a lot of time to prepare. Have an open first day to get started <3

(Feel free to use prompts during this day, though.)

Day 2: Christopher Lives

I think we all know he deserved better. This week we're pretending he and Grace lived happily ever after post CoT.

Day 3: Teaching/Learning

Doesn't necessarily have to be a skill of any kind, they could also just be learning different things from one another, whether it's general knowledge or character growth of some kind.

Day 4: Night ________

Sort of a fill in the blank prompt. Some examples: Night patrol, nightmare/night terror, night time, night out, etc.

Day 5: First

They didn't get enough moments together. Give them some classics! First dance, first kiss, first date, first "I love you". If you're a smut writer you know what I'm going to say. Be creative! Lots of relationships have firsts, including friendships, which gracetopher has a great foundation for (you could say they have chemistry). Have fun with this one!

Day 6: Grief

Doesn't have to be Christopher, just to clarify. This can be interpreted as a hurt/comfort prompt as well. Be as angsty or un-angsty(?) as you want. Have fun!

Day 7: New Beginnings

After Chain of Thorns, there's so much opportunity for these two. There are so many ways they could have had a future together. They're both obviously quite new to relationships too, so don't be afraid to make that part of this prompt too. Moving in together, making a discovery of some sort, creating their first invention, or even getting married, etc. are some examples for this prompt if you're confused. Have fun!

Please tag us @gracetopher-week in your posts so we can reblog them here! And don't forget to tag #gracetopherweek 2024 and #gracetopherweek! All forms of content are allowed. We're so excited to see what you make. Feel free to leave any questions or comments in our ask box. See you all again on the tenth!

[purplebass]

The Sound of Silence - Gracetopher

Canon divergent. It is a follow up one shot of my scene fix-it/rewrite called "Five". I attached the link in this fic but you don't need to read it to understand the context of this story. You should just know it deviates from Chapter 26 of CoT and [redacted] never died. :) This one shot is set after "Five" but it can be read as a standalone. Grace is waiting for Christopher to wake up. Anna also makes a brief appearance. Read "Five" (Grace kills Tatiana) Read "Hold it Together" (Lucie and Jesse talk after "Five")

Read this story on A03 💙

“I guess you stayed here enough, you know.”

Grace barely registered Anna’s voice, in a room otherwise silent aside from the tension rolling off her in waves. She could easily ignore the electricity in the room and focus on the silence. 

Grace liked silence, even though even the lack of noise had its meaning. 

For one, it could mean that the situation was stable. Unchanged. This kind of silence was a good silence, in a way. It was a silence that meant: wait. The tide could change soon, but there wasn’t an indication of when that would happen. It could only get better, but also… she didn’t want to think about this.

The second type of silence was more dire. It was the silence that lurked in the shadows, the kind of quiet followed by a storm. Grace was almost sure this type of silence was already upon them, upon the whole city, and that Tatiana’s attack was just the beginning. That soon, the apparent quietness would turn into chaos and it would crush and slice them open. She knew that even silence had an aftermath. Consequences.

The stillness in the room where they had taken Christopher was overbearing, but it couldn’t be helped. They had to go through that, she had to go through that. Through that silence. She was sure it wouldn’t have an unpredictable outcome. No one of them was a doctor, but they were shadowhunters, and Kit’s friends had assured that he would make it, so she would try to believe them. His chest still rose and fell, and this was enough to make her believe. To believe in him. 

“I want to stay,” she replied firmly, uncaring if she would sound brazen. “You can’t tell me what I should do.”

Anna scoffed, her arms crossed on her chest. She had her back to the wall, and hadn’t sat ever since they had taken Christopher in this room. Grace could understand her. He was her brother, and she cared for him. Grace had found herself in such a position years ago.

“Your presence won’t help him wake,” she said bitterly. “If any, he would be reminded of how he got his wound.”

Grace wasn’t sure, but she had expected Anna to utter such words of disdain. She had shared similar words to Jesse before he left and assured himself Grace was fine. She imagined the reason. She knew she wouldn’t be spared either, solely because she was also linked to that woman, but she hoped that Anna would wait. That she would keep silent. 

The anger radiating off Anna filled the silence and it was unnerving. It became stronger after the boys had left and she had offered to stay to watch over Kit until he woke up. Anna had clearly not liked that, but Grace did not care about her. Christopher was the only one who mattered in this room. She was doing this for him. 

“Nor will your animosity,” Grace said coldly, her eyes focusing on Christopher’s sleeping figure. 

Anna rolled her eyes, and she was ready to comment on that when Kit stirred in the bed, and she sauntered to the opposite side to where Grace was sitting. He was finally waking up.

“My shoulder,” he cried. “I can’t feel it. I guess I still haven’t healed?”

Grace couldn’t help but laugh, tears of relief blurring her vision. “I’m afraid not.”

“It’s a miracle the knife barely grazed you,” Anna said, underlining the word barely. “But it still did some damage. Thankfully, you will just need a few days to go back to normal.”

Christopher frowned at his sister and then glanced at Grace. “I apologize, my eyesight is not good. Can you get my glasses?” Anna was already moving to the other side of the bed to get them, but Grace, who was closer, beat her to it. “There, there, this is better. Why are you glaring at Grace, sister?”

Grace turned to her, but Anna had already schooled her expression. Now she was managing a tight smile and she seemed taken aback by his comment. “What gave you the impression?”

Kit shrugged, but he hissed when his left side throbbed in pain. “Are you okay?” Grace wondered softly. She brushed Kit’s hair from his face, a hint of surprise in his eyes. He didn’t reply.

“Anna,” he said instead. “Can you leave us alone?”

She looked scorned, but she tried not to show it. “Are you sure?” She glanced at Grace again as if she was a threat, but she was looking at Christopher so she didn’t see her. “What if you need help?”

“If I need help, I’m sure Grace can provide me with a glass of water, if I need it?”

“But –”

“I am fine,” he reassured her. “You can tell the others I woke up, but hold them off from coming here for a bit. I am still recovering, after all.”

Anna wanted to object to her brother’s requests, but her expression sweetened. “Call me if you need anything,” she muttered flatly, and then she left the room.

“I don’t think she took it well, but she’ll manage,” Kit grinned. Grace suspected this was a dynamic that happened often between them. Again, she could understand. He was her younger brother, after all.  

“She was worried sick about you,” Grace confessed. “She hasn’t left the room for hours.”

“And so haven’t you,” he guessed. “I remember seeing your face when they brought me here.”

“Did you?”

“I was wounded but I still had my glasses on,” he giggled, but he cried in pain and had to stop. Grace had already taken her stele from the pocket of her dress, ready to draw a healing rune on him. “I imagine we should hold off from jokes until I’m healed.”

“Does it hurt?” Grace wondered, her hand still mid-air, reaching for the place where the knife had wounded him, then retreating it on her lap. She sighed.

“A little,” he confessed. “But I’m still here, aren’t I? First the poison, then the knife,” he began to chuckle but had to stop when Grace frowned at him. “I’m sorry, I’m betraying my own words, but it was too funny not to mention. I avoided death twice. Perhaps I’m immortal. Maybe I have seven lives like cats!”

Grace rolled her eyes and managed a tiny smile. “Only you could make fun of your near death experiences,” she shook her head. “I just hope you won’t try your hand at finding that out,” she said with concern.

“Oh, Grace,” he said. “I didn’t mean it for real,” he apologized. 

Grace hadn’t realized she had started crying, not until she felt her thumb wet with tears. She gazed up at him and he was frowning, clearly worried. He had never seen her cry, nor had she ever cried in front of someone who wasn’t her own brother. She felt vulnerable at that moment, but he had to know. He had to —

“Do not joke about death anymore,” she bawled, keeping her eyes leveled with his. As if this was an order more of a plea.

“I won’t,” he replied. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I wanted to lighten the mood, but I failed. I guess I’m still shocked by whatever happened to me.”

She sniffled, and Kit offered her his handkerchief. For some reason, he still had it in the pocket on the side of him that hadn’t been wounded. Grace accepted it gladly, and wiped her face. “I cut that woman’s – mama’s throat,” she confessed after a long silence. She didn’t know why she still insisted on calling her mother, but old habits die hard. “I ended her.”

“Oh,” he simply said. “I don’t like to speak ill of people, most of all dead people, but can I say she had it coming?”

That was an answer she didn’t expect, but Christopher was never predictable. Grace smiled despite herself, and her current mood. “It’s just that,” she sighed, unable to find the right words, “after she threw that knife on you, I – I lost it. She was distracted and I knew I had to do it,” she turned serious now, still shaken by it all. Her hands trembled in her lap. “I had to do it for a lot of reasons,” one for me, one for my brother, one for you. One… “Otherwise –”

“She would have escaped again,” he completed for her. “That woman was out of her mind.”

Grace nodded, feeling lighter that she had shared this information with him. Kit yawned.  “Are you tired? Should I…?”

“My shoulder is sore,” he admitted, “but otherwise, I feel decent. Just a little worn out. Unless you want to leave, you can stay as long as you wish, Grace.”

“Okay, then I wish to stay,” she admitted. “Do you want me to read to you? I could get something from the library.”

“Do you happen to have the notes I gave you about fire messages? Perhaps we could try to understand why they don’t work yet,” he suggested. “My mind won’t quiet until we make them work.”

Grace smiled again, this time with excitement. It wasn’t lost on her that Christopher had referred to them as a duo. “Yes, I kept them in my dress pocket,” she said, and produced the crumpled papers. “I was afraid I would lose them.”

“All right, where were we?” he pondered, and then they set to work. 

Grace wished she could always fill the silence like this.

*

I hope you like this <3 Know that this isn't the last one shot of this "CoT Rewrite" I'm writing :)

[thevagabondexpress]

still out there running

for day three of @gracetopher-week, which is fic day. a snippet from something upcoming. it's very short, everyone-rating . . . you'll see what's going on as we go.

— — —

Grace waited politely in the shop for Christopher to return. He did so with a couple of small vials and the slip of paper she'd given him.

"Thank you," Grace said.

"I heard rumors," Christopher said, "that you might be here but I wasn't sure if I was hearing correctly. What brought you back?"

A funeral. "I got a post, teaching at the Academy."

"Oh. Teaching what?"

"Chemistry and alchemy. We have quite the extensive laboratory but, apparently thanks to you, certain chemicals are forbidden. I've had to get them elsewhere."

"I see." Christopher pushed his glasses further up his nose. "I suppose," he said, "that I should apologize."

"What for?"

"Any part I had in driving you out of London."

Grace nodded. "The fight we had hurt," she said, "but it was a disagreement between scientists, something I could forgive easily enough. I didn't choose to leave because of anything to do with you. If anything, you were the one person who could have convinced me to stay." She stepped backward from the counter. "That being said, I haven't seen you in fifteen years. I am not saying I want nothing to do with you but a lot of time has passed and a lot of things have changed. I'm not sure we know each other anymore."

"Would you . . . would you like to change that?"

"I don't know," Grace said. "I really don't know. I'll need time." I hope so. I want to know you again. But I'm not sure I know who I am.

— — —

so I was just . . . honestly too lazy and too busy to write something wholly new for today or tomorrow of gracetopher week so I decided to pull a snippet from one of the things that I've got in drafting but that I don't have enough material or clear trajectory for to publish yet (plus I am up to my ears with rivers & gates pt. iv and it's driving me nuts). this is that thing. it's an excerpt from still out there running, which takes place abt. 15 years post-chot in a world where christopher survives. as you can see, much has changed.

[zoyalannister]

I would never use the fandom pain to advertise myself, but I have quite a few Gracetopher fanfics on Ao3, if that’s what you’re looking for.

I need more Grace x Christopher content. Mostly FanArt. Please.

[zoyalannister]

Gracetopher week 2024

Day 3: Teaching/Learning

@gracetopher-week

Read on Ao3

It's a Modern!AU where Kit asks Grace to teach him something. I’m sorry, my bugged brain thought it was funny. 471 words.

Christopher breathed deeply to calm his nerves. He’d asked Grace to help him with this thing, and his girlfriend had accepted.

Sometimes, he thought he shouldn’t have waited so long, but he hadn’t wanted distractions through secondary school and university, and not even during his PhD. 

And now, at twenty-six, Christopher had no experience on the matter and felt incredibly nervous. 

Everyone he knew had done it at seventeen or eighteen, and he didn’t want to feel that nagging sensation of being behind his peers anymore.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine to mess up the first time,” Grace said. 

That didn’t help. She, unlike him, had started as soon as she was of age, and now she had a lot of experience he lacked.

“When did you do it for the first time?” Grace thought about it for a moment. “I think I was in Paris with Tatiana. But you know, it’s the other way around in France.”

Oh, fantastic. Grace had so much more experience than he thought.

“Yes, I know.”

Christopher focused his gaze in front of him to steel his nerves.

Almost everyone did it, and no one had that many problems.

In his mind, he repeated the theory he’d learnt in his book. He’d done the test just a few days ago: why, then, did he feel like he’d forgotten most of it?

“It’s something you get more with practice,” Grace said, guessing his thoughts at first glance as usual.

“Yes, I know. I’m just nervous.” She kissed him, and when they parted, she looked him straight in the eye. She, Grace, his girlfriend, would be the one teaching him, and that thought calmed him much more than he’d thought possible.

“I understand. I’m honored to be the first one showing you how it works.”

Christopher took a deep breath and grabbed the stick firmly, but he froze immediately. 

He felt Grace’s hand on his as she gently guided his movement.

“Are you ready to start?” Christopher nodded. He couldn’t back down now: he had to do it. 

“You have to go all in, all the way,” Grace told him. “And after that, you have to move very slowly and be very delicate.” She touched his face so he turned towards her. “And don’t worry if you can’t, it’s normal if you fail the first time.”

Slow and delicate, Christopher repeated to himself as he followed Grace’s instructions.

Slow and delicate, slow and delicate, slow and delicate…

There was a bang, and the car suddenly stopped as the engine went off.

Disappointed, Christopher lowered his forehead to the steering wheel. 

“I’m never getting my driving license.”

Grace kissed his cheek. 

“I told you it’s not easy to start a car the first time, especially with manual transmission,” she said affectionately. “But I’m here to teach you, aren’t I?”

[edwinspaynes]

No one likes your shitty fanfiction. It's laughable that you think we do.

You know what? I'm going to keep writing my "shitty fanfiction" even harder. I'm thinking more queerplatonic Gracetopher?

[hahahax30]

Esme Hardcastle: professional theorist and horrible scapegoat

This is my Official Essay-Post complaining about the absurdity that was the family tree. I'll be trying to explain my thoughts in a well-structured manner.

Firstly, I think we can all agree that making that goddamn family tree was one of the greatest mistakes CC's ever made, if not the greatest. It's been haunting her and us since tlh was announced and, frankly, should never have seen the light of day. However, once it did, it was a reality whose incorrectness the story had to live with and explain. And CC explained it, but in the most underwhelming, unsatisfactory way possible.

We're told that Esme Hardcastle, an ascended mundane James first meets in the shadowhunter academy, was the mastermind behind the family tree and that her mind is, actually, quite underdeveloped, hence why the family tree is full of errors. Well, that is a good way to explain certain aspects of the family tree, for example:

Why Alastair's name is misspelled as 'Alistar' -> many English names have different spellings and Esme might not have known which one to go to for Alastair; or perhaps she just made a typo because she was writing the family tree too fast

Why Sona's name is way off -> Alastair is a bitch and who knows what lies he could've told her to get her to leave him alone

Why some people (like Thomas) are supposed to die earlier than we now can expect them to -> she got angry and shortened their fictional lifespans

If the family tree had only silly mistakes like those, then Esme's existence would be nice, but nope. The family tree royally fucked up.

For once, it shouldn't contain info up until tda, since Esme surely didn't get to live until 1995 (when Emma was born), but also, she's a real character in-universe. She's supposed to know everyone in tlh, she should know that Barbara and Christopher died in 1903, she should know that Christopher certainly didn't get to marry Grace nor have children with her (even if they'd married they wouldn't have had any because they're both ace). Why, then, did she write that?

Esme is stupid, but she's not blind ffs. If CC really wanted to make her the reason behind the family tree, she should've explained further why Esme went full happy-flower-power mode and imagined a whole future for a guy who died at sixteen: is she a hardcore gracetopher shipper? A conspiratorial theorist who, in spite of seeing Christopher's body literally burn in a pyre, still thought he was alive? Both? I guess we'll never know.

This is all, for obvious reasons, frustrating.

I'm beyond overjoyed that she won't make another family tree. I wouldn't be surprised if she actually wrote a trilogy about tlh's children after twp (since her idea of it being the last shadowhunter trilogy has pretty much disappeared) and I don't want her to have to make up any other stupid reasons for why xyz info is wrong because Idiotbrain McStupid wrote it to compliment his real-person fanfiction of the next generations.

[zoyalannister]

On about what I have to say. Let's say that for me it’s not a problem choosing the characters, since I only care about Gabrily, Gracetopher and AriAnna.

When I plan a fic, I decide which are the things I want to tell because the structure will go around that.

In Still insists she sees the ghosts, I had the idea of Cecily being interrogated and writing two timelines, one where she is 18 and another where she is 32, because I was reading Empire of the Vampire that has two storylines at two different ages as well (16/35 if I recall correctly). Then I started a bullet point where I planned more in detail what happens and why, and let's say without spoiler, that the main utility of the storyline of Cecily at 18 is setting up the reasons why at 32 she acts in a certain way.

Similar for Endless Sunlight, where I had the idea of a prologue explaining why Grace goes into another dimension, and 4 arcs of 4 chapters each divided by interludes that explain why Thule!Christopher is closer to Tom Rogan than to Canon!Christopher. I wrote a bullet point here too, but it's not written on stone (I totally changed the order of some events towards the end) but having a clear idea of where to go and how gave me a very good base also for this kind of changes.

I hope this helps and you don’t mind too much the autospam :)

writers in the fandom (or just in general) how do you plan out your fics? realising only now how very long it's been since I've written something that isn't a scientific paper or the like and currently it's a disjointed series of random one-shots that I'm like 'that felt right' and a vague idea of overall story arc. do you use, like, pen and paper? draw it out like a cross-section of a mountain terrain with height=how intense it is and key points marked out? how do you even decide what is a key point? and if you put effort into all of these things, how do you keep it fun and not make it get demandy?

[belle-keys]

Not the original anon, but weighing in with a Rant. In addition to what you said, harassing fic writers about what they do and don't write is a douche move. I've literally gotten comments telling me I write too much Thomastair and Wessa and should write (x) things instead, and I find the comments super rude, ngl? Like, someone else is definitely writing what you want! Leave me alone!

One of my good friends also got some really nasty ass guest comments on a Gracetopher fic where the person spent what must have been like an hour catching every typo and perceived historical/scientific inaccuracy. Like dude my friend just wanted to write cute lab fluff, I wanted to read cute lab fluff, it you don't like cute lab fluff gtfo

Yes, exactly – fanfiction is the Wild West. There is no logic, no real editing, no complete originality. You pay nothing to write it or read it. You can publish it on ao3 after writing it on a post-it at 2am while drunk. Criticizing fanfiction is stupid when it’s easy as hell to not read what you don’t like. And people should just, yunno, get to write what they want anyway. The rules of books, original prose, and literature do not hold up in fanfiction because fanfic exists within a completely different creative framework.

There is not a single individual fanfiction criticism that holds up when you contextualize what fanfiction even is. You think this person used the phrase “blue orbs” too much? Great, they’re not a writer, they didn’t make the fic intending for it to have good prose. They just wanna squeal over Damon Salvatore’s blue orbs with their five friends online. The writing is bad? Great, the purpose wasn’t it for it to be good in the first place, so keep it to yourself. No one is reading this one specific fic for “good writing”.

[astriefer]

STARDUST

Summary: Post-CoT. Grace is surprised to find a very overworked Christopher in the Fairchilds' lab when she comes to retrieve some Raum scales.

Words: 1330

Ship: Grace × Christopher

Warnings: None

A /N: it's very bland and ahort but I wanted to serve some fluff for the new year! This ficlet is dedicated to @darklingswhxore (see notes in the end) <3

“Kit.”

No response.

“Christopher.”

Silence.

“Christopher Lightwood!” Grace says, her voice laced with annoyance, her tone dangerously low.

Christopher finally looks up from his papers. He blinks with surprise at the figure hovering at the doorway that is Grace, crossed-armed with a stern look on her face.

"Grace?" he asks, taking his protection spectacles off. "Why have you returned so soon?"

She stares at him incredulously. The anger in her voice vanishes as she spots the black bags under Christopher's eyes. Concern takes its place.  "Soon? Christopher, I was off since yesterday."

His lavender eyes are full of wonder. He glances at his experiment, then his hands, then back at Grace. "But - not far ago, you've left to Jesse and Lucie's loft."

"Angel, Kit. How long have you been here all by yourself?" Grace demands. "No one came to check on you?"

"They all have their own affairs to tend to. Regardless, I haven't noticed how time flew by." He explains dismissively. However, he averts her fierce gaze, picking up a receptacle. "I've been consumed by work, and I'm on the verge of a breakthrough-"

Grace cuts him off. "Have you taken any rest since I left?"

Christopher stays silent. She steps forward until she is next to him near the table.

"You've been locked up in the lab for over a day, kit," she sighs and pushes back a few bright strands that escaped her hairdo.

He looks exhausted, she notes. It gratified her immensely to see Christopher do what he loves, but she wished he wouldn't be so forgetful about his own needs. Thomas and Grace often accompanied him in the lab to watch over the laboratory.  However, they also were there to remind Christopher to take care of himself when he got too immersed in his work.

"I'm on the verge of a breakthrough," he repeats. The desk is full of papers with equations, notes, and instructions all over. There's also a forgotten piece of Shepherd’s Pie. He gestures in its direction as if to prove his saying. 

She lifts a gloved hand up to guide Christopher's hand away from the receptacle. "And it could wait for later. You've been overstraining yourself."

"No, no," Christopher insists, his voice slightly raspy. His hand rests on his lap now, and his eyes fixed on Grace's grey ones. "I can handle this."

"Aren't your parents worried you wouldn't come home at night?" she tries to reason with him.

The boy shakes his head. "Matthew's old room is available to me," he tells her. "I stay here at night some of the days. They're used to it."

"You ought to rest," she chides him gently, stern but not unkind.

Christopher frowns and looks away, absorbed in his own thoughts. "I will. I must finish this first. I can't - I can't get it right. Maybe if I examine the papers once more-" 

"Kit, listen to me," when his eyes locked on hers, she goes on, "You seem thoroughly drained, I am certain a well-needed rest would be of help. Besides, A good night sleep will aid you to have a fresh point of view on your experiment," she adds the last part quickly, knowing he'd be more inclined to agree to this line of reason.

There is a long pause before Christopher speaks again.

"Alright."

He sighs in defeat, but there's no heat behind when he smiles at her. She beams in triumph. He discards his protection spectacles and lab coat on a nearby chair, and swiftly enough they are out of the laboratory and up the ground floor.

"Let me escort you out," he offers, and Grace accepts.

They walk side by side out of the Fairchild's residence. They've done it many times before, and it always gives her a fuzzy feeling inside knowing Christopher cares for her, that he finds her deserving his affection. Christopher was too good of a person for someone like Grace. That is what she always thinks. Christopher, however, keeps telling her she's good, so good that stars in the night sky are pale compared to her brightness.

When Grace looks up to the endless darkness above her, she sees no stars in the heavens.

"There are days I miss Alicante," she babbles, not knowing why she talks at all, as they walk in the pathway to the mansion's gates, "And the Blackthorn manor. It holds many bad memories of mine, and yet..." she hesitates and glances at Christopher. His eyes are tender as he looks at her, warm and appreciative. "I would look out the window and see the stars, bright and comforting. Now I see none." 

That was true. London's polluted air, combined with the perpetual light from the road lamps and the city, made it hard to see stars in the middle of London.

"Wasn't the sight from Chiswick house well enough?" Christopher inquires, regarding her former residence at the outskirts of London. He seems tired but attentive.

"Yes, but not as much as in Idris." she reaches her hand forward, letting it flow in invisible paths. Her mouth twists to a ghost of a smile. "The air is clean and fresh. The stars dance in their eternal melody. It's not much of my interest now, but back in those days, Jesse used to tell me about the stars."

At nights, Jesse used to sneak to her room and teach her about constellations or try to count all the stars they could see. He pointed at Polaris for her and told her stories of myths and legends hiding in the stars. When they strode in the gardens of the blackthorn manor, with the wind in their hair and the smell of spring, and her brother lifted her in the air to try and capture a star in her hand.

It's chilly outside, and Grace shudders slightly. Christopher notices and shrugs off his jacket before putting it on her shoulders.

"Aren't you cold?"

Christopher pushes his spectacles up his nose,  "You need it more than I do. Keep it."

Grace smiles faintly. Christopher raises his hands, like he doesn't know what to do with them, then lets them fall limp to his sides.

Grace extends her hand and interwinds their fingers together.

They reach the gates, and both halt in their place, turning to each other. Grace turns to look at Christopher. "Thank you for escorting me, Kit. Good night."

The Blackthorn carriage stands near the gates, waiting in front of the house. She let loose of his hand and takes two steps toward it before Christopher's voice stops her. 

"Grace!"

She spins around with a bewildered look on her face. "Kit?"

He closes the distance between them and wraps her in an embrace. Grace is stunned by this show of affection, so much as she almost forgets to hug Christopher back. "Perhaps we should visit Royal Observatory in Greenwich. Together," he suggests quickly, cheeks tinted pink, and not because of the cold. "We can seek for the stars your brother and yourself watched back then."

Graces drew away, just slightly, to look Christopher in the eye. "This place is close for visitors."

The grin Christopher gives her causes butterflies to flutter around in her stomach. "This law has never stopped me before."

She gasps at him, and he laughs a tired laugh, reminding her he hasn't taken a rest for over 24 hours. "Consider it my thanks for coming all way here and taking care of me." They break from the hug. "So, what do you say?"

He rubs his hand together in front of him, with a hopeful glint in his eyes. It melts Grace from the inside to see him looking at her this way.

She plants a kiss on the corner of Christopher's mouth before starting for the carriage. She doesn't turn to astonished Christopher until she's on the steps of the carriage. "Yes!"

The moon illuminates them in a soft glow, washing Christopher in silver. His eyes are sparkling with content and love, and Grace finds herself mimicking the smile tugging at her fiancé's lips.

Because even if she couldn't see the ocean of shining lights from her window anymore, she had something else to brighten her life.

~~~*~~~

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed!): @ary-es @writeordie-4 @justanormaldemon @life-through-the-eyes-of @hidethebreakables @tessherongraystairs @merry-esfandimas

Happy new year everyone!! ✨

~~~*~~~

Notes: @darklingswhxore alright this ficlet has three purposes: one, you once requested Gracetopher and I couldn't write it, so I do now.

Second, it's our late one-year anniversary since we started talking! Worth celebrating, I believe. 🥳✨

And third and most importantly I think, I wanted to write you something for the new year, for this past year with all its ups and downs wouldn't be the same without you 💕 I wish the new year will be amazing for you, full of new opportunities and all you could ask for because you deserve the WORLD. I love talking from you about whatever, seeing you work for what you love, and I can't understand how you tolerate all my rambling and fics but I'm grateful to have you In my life. SO MUCH.

So happy new year!! May this new year be wonderful for us 💜💜

[fimproda]

Night-blooming Jasmine

@gracetopher-week

Day 3, Fic Day

Rated R, still unfinished, set in the The Last Flowers universe after Chrisanthemum

The point is, Grace doesn’t actually know how to have sex.

Giving her history, she should. She really should. But she’s never been an active participant: in the past, with her... clients―she has to stop calling them that―she just... lay there, closed her eyes, and thought of England. Occasionally, which meant nine times out of ten, she also suffered like a dog.

Nothing more.

By now, though, she’s come to understand that her firsthand knowledge of sex has nothing to do with how sex is usually experienced; even less, with how sex should be experienced. She was too young, for starters, which is something Cecily, and Cordelia, and Anna, and everyone worth their salt never seem to stop blabbering about; moreover, she’s been sold, trafficked, stripped of her every right. She’s never had a choice.

And, maybe most importantly, she’s never truly wanted it.

Well, not until this moment, at least.

She wants it. She does, she really does, she’s ready to swear it on the Angel if need be.

She’s just not sure what she wants, exactly.

Which is why they’ve ended up here. She and Kit, that is. Sprawled on the bed in her room at the Institute, laying on their sides, kissing.

The kissing is... good. Nice. They’ve done it before, of course; as a matter of fact, they’ve never done more than that. It’s been a couple of months since Kit kissed her for the first time, and that was a good ten days after her trial, when she’d been cleared of all involvement with the whole Belial-and-Tatiana-related mess and could finally start making her peace with it―start making her amends to those she’d hurt, either willingly or not.

Kit liking her, kissing her, opening his heart up to her, hasn’t been much of a surprise.

Everything that’s happened since...

Yeah.

She should stop overthinking it. She should just do what Kit told her to, last week, and get this over with already.

Problem is, that’s a thing she has no idea how to do. To tell the truth, it’s the very reason why they’re on this bed and Kit’s hand is slowly, so slowly, making its way between her legs.

Listen...

She tried, alright?

If anything, she knows what it’s supposed to feel like. It isn’t as though she’s never come before: statistically speaking, it just had to happen, sooner or later. Mere physical stimulation can, and sometimes will, be enough. And some of her cl―abusers prided themselves on being able to bring their women to orgasm, and had a penchant for rubbing her like they were hacking at a particularly persistent stain on their fancy church clothes.

So, she has experienced climax.

And she’s never failed to hate herself for it.

She’s perfectly aware that that’s the problem. And, as she’s told Kit half an hour ago, the only solution is for him to―quite literally, as it turns out―take the matter into his own hands.

She knows he’s an overthinker, just like her. She knows there’s a fat chance neither of them is going to get anything out of this. But she’s used to yielding control, she’s done it all her life, and she isn’t―yet―able to function in any other way.

The silver lining is that Kit has already had her remove her undergarments, which is a step further than where she’s taken this when she made her failed attempt. She’s still got her dress on: he doesn’t want her to be naked in front of him, not when it could be uncomfortable for her. Besides, with the fire having wilted down to embers hours ago, the room is chilly.

The goosebumps starting to show on her skin have nothing to do with the chill.

Kit’s lips are a kiss away from hers. His eyes are half-closed, as though he’s squinting to be able to look at her. (He doesn’t have his glasses on; she removed them as soon as he came into her room. But he’s near-sighted, so his vision should be good).

He’s staring at his hand on her inner thigh, she realizes. She’s willing to bet he’s as tense as she is over what they are about to do. What he is about to do.

“Kit,” she whispers, not even knowing why she spoke in the first place. Maybe it’s because she wants to reassure him. Or maybe it’s because she wants to reassure herself.

“Grace,” Kit echoes, the tips of his fingers drawing circles on her skin, his free arm sliding underneath the pillow on which both their heads are resting. “What do you want me to do to you?”

She lets out another, “Kit,” and it’s halfway between a scoff and a plea. “If I knew that, I would have succeeded in doing this myself.”

They make eye contact. Kit’s pupils are dilated, the violet of his irises reduced to little more than a ring around ever-growing black. He wets his lips, opens his mouth, inhales... and stays silent.

He’s at a loss for words.

Her third, “Kit,” is barely a breath. Soft. Acknowledging his worry, his unease, his feeling of being inadequate. “Whatever you do, I’m going to like it.”

She wants to eat her words the very second they leave her mouth. It was the wrong thing to say.

And indeed, a shadow falling on his handsome, boyish face, Kit replies, “How can you be so sure?”

“Kit.” She can’t get enough of saying his name, tonight. It grounds her, reminds her of who she’s with. “I chose this. I chose you.”

The title, Night-blooming Jasmine, refers to a work of the same name by Italian poet Giovanni Pascoli, which you can find here in the original Italian and a pretty good English translation. Pascoli wrote it for the wedding of a good friend of his, and it's obvious from the text that the poet thinks of sex as something violent, not gentle, something that crushes the petals of the flower ("si chiudono i petali un poco gualciti").

My co-author @zoyalannister learned to hate this poem in school (it's taught, at the very least, during the last year of high school), but I think it's a perfect metaphor for Grace's past and her journey in The Last Flowers.

Come check out the series if you hate yourself and want to suffer!

[zoyalannister]

Thanks to @fimproda for the tag!

How (not) to end a feud (Gracetopher | complete | 49k+ words): the Clave is tired of the Lightwood-Blackthorn feud of 25+ years, so they have a brilliant idea: Christopher Lightwood must marry Grace Blackthorn to unite the families again and stop the feud. Obviously, it's not going to work.

Geranium (Cecily & Grace mother-daughter relationship | Gracetopher, Gabrily and AriAnna as side relationships | ongoing | 16k+ words for now | co-written with @fimproda): Grace is kicked out of home and she has to survive as she can until she meets Gabriel Lightwood. Please, read all the TWs before reading it.

Balance (Gabrily, Lightwood family, AriAnna, Gracetopher | ongoing | 2k words for now): A collection of Modern!AU one shots about slices of life of Gabriel, Cecily and their family. The one shots are in chronological order and all told by Cecily's POV.

Still insists she sees the ghosts (Gabrily | ongoing | 13k+ words for now): Cecily is accused of a bunch of crimes she didn't commit, and her story will span between two different parts of her life going through unresolved traumas and anxiety.

Endless Sunlight (Gracetopher | ongoing | 39k+ words for now): Grace, two years after the end of ChoT, is obsessed by the idea of finding Christopher Lightwood in another dimension, and she ends up in Thule, where she finds a Christopher Lightwood, but this man is the opposite of canon!Christopher. Please, read all the TWs before reading this too.

I forgot, I tag @livia-dovehallow.

✨️happy June 14th✨️

So first, today is Sophia's 6 month birthday 🥺🥺

Second, we are halfway through 2024. Isn't that insane?! I decided to start a tag game for us to celebrate everything we've accomplished so far this year.

I thought it would be fun for us to post our top 5 favorite things we've wrote/drawn, and have posted since I know some of us have gems hidden, to bring love to things that maybe haven't gotten the attention we wanted or that thrived💕

Fanart, moodboards, dividers. Headcanons, drabbles, one shots, or a chapter update to your epic on going fic, I don't care, I want to read and see them and give you love!

So, without further ado, here are mine in no real order:

Drumming Song - Summary - 49 long years without your mate finally comes to an end after Amarantha grants him one night of freedom - smut - Rhysand x reader

The Breakfast Club - Summary - After missing breakfast unexpectedly, a hidden relationship is revealed to Azriel's family, who can't tell if they're more surprised by you or his cat. - Fluff - Azriel x reader

Love Language - Summary - Lucien never wanted you to question his love, so he makes sure you never have to by leaving small reminders every time he leaves. - Fluff - Lucien x reader

Mine - Summary - Cassian always gets a little riled up when he gets to fight for your honor. - Smut - Cassian x reader

Limbo - Summary - You would never be able to move on from your untimely death. Not while the two males you loved kept you trapped here. - Angst - Tamlin x Rhysand's Sister Reader

No obligation tags to: @claireswritingcorner @honeybeefae @thehighladywrites @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars @danikamariewrites @sarawritestories @milswrites @itsswritten @illyrianbitch @acourtofladydeath @nocasdatsgay @littlestw01f @loneliestluvr @lady-of-tearshed @hopeinvelaris @daycourtofficial @writingcroissant @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @historiaxvanserra @utterlyazriel @dawneternal @stormhearty @tsumani-of-tears @secret-third-thing @teddyhoneybear @zenkindoflove @ninthcircleofprythian @achaotichuman @hieragalbatorixdottir @artists-ally @invisibleanonymousmonsters @lucienarcheron @tadpolesonalgae @serpentandlily @azrielsdove

really anyone who'd like to do it 💕

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

tlh social media AU - character intros part 1

I'm super excited so here's some character bios! I'm thinking of starting a sideblog for the AU so it's more organized. I hope to post part 1 today or tomorrow! This is in a modern, no magic, US college setting. They all end up participating in a musical for their school's student-run (lucie-run) drama club. Mainly thomastair with side lucelia, joshwood, and gracetopher! It will be a mix of fluff and angst. This is a new format than I'm used to writing in, so I'm excited!

please let me know if you do or don't want to be tagged! my usual fanfic taglist: @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @thecodexsays @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @itsjusta-j-really

[thevagabondexpress]

R & W

I'm so sorry but this is really long

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

I have a post about this somewhere but I don't know where it is right now.

For non-fanfiction authors, KJ Charles has become one of them in recent years specifically in regards to pacing: she taught me how to make things go faster, so I can get the plot out of the way and then go back to add development and things in later.

Seanan McGuire is a big one. I'm very into Celtic mythology and faerie things and yet I also get tired of the fact that everyone consistently uses the Seelie and Unseelie Courts and never really goes beyond that, has this kind of shallow understanding of ooh, tricksy faeries and fancy court politics and yeh deh deh da when there's all of this old lore like the Book of Invasions to be tapped, and also modern, living legends people still tell stories about today, like "tell Tom Tildrum, 'Tim Toldrum is dead'" (the cat sidhe) and the cave of Black Agnes and etc. Seanan McGuire's Toby Daye mysteries really kind of opened the keg on that for me. While she makes her nods to the format of a lot of fae fiction to keep it recognizable, she's unafraid to tap into the truly weird sh.t Celtic Irish, and Welsh myth and lore have to offer (her protagonist was trapped as a fish for several years for instance) which really inspired me to do my own research and let myself throw out the "Oberon and Titania" model of faerie fiction as much as possible in favor of worldbuilding based on both modern rural legends and also texts predating Spenser and Shakespeare. It so far has shown up more in my original fiction than my fanfiction but Rivers & Gates starts moseying in that direction and I have a very big fanfic called Fly Over The North Shore (I'm Going Home) that's going to tackle a lot of Fir Bolg, Fomori, and Tuatha de Danann lore especially.

Shirley Jackson's another big one, I learned a lot of my horror-genre cues and stylistic mannerisms reading We Have Always Lived In The Castle and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Also, this might surprise you, but SJM by negation. She had a whole bunch of elements in the first Throne of Glass which she then promptly dropped, leaving me without the pieces of the story which drew me in the first place: plot elements that inevitably work their way into a lot of things I write because I wanted more and didn't get it. Author influence by not doing what she did. (Points if you can guess what those pieces are).

As for fanfiction authors, Purlturtle/NuMo in the Bering & Wells fandom has been a big one especially in terms of learning the little characterization tricks you need to really bring people to life. I know it's not a fandom you're familiar with but I'd still recommend Strata anyway, it's incredible. Also ashesandhoney from the Herongraystairs tag. She's able to make me actively invested in and interested in a character I usually avoid due to gender dysphoria weirdness and I've spent ages trying to figure out how she does it.

W: What is your favorite pairing to write? Favorite pairing to read?

Hm. For favorite pairing to write I'd say Gracetopher. Because I just adore both Grace and Christopher individually but also because my favorite thing as an author is to find loose threads and yank as hard as I can and if we bring Christopher back from the dead suddenly there are loose threads everywhere, just all over the place, and so many ways they can go. And a lot of those paths tangle these two together, sometimes platonically, sometimes romantically, sometimes in ways where even I don't know what's going on.

However, they're really not my favorite pairing to read. While I do like fanfics I've read of them (@luciehercndale does them incredibly well) I feel like there's a level of nuance and pain and also a layer of gleeful chaos to them that I don't see brought together often in the way I want from them. So I'm gonna say Wesper from Six of Crows and Alan/Jack from The Last Binding. Also Bering & Wells.

Wesper because there's a lot of authors who all have very different but also very good takes on the characters and they're one of those ships that just excels when put into random situations so they're just fun and fun is good.

Alan/Jack because I have a historical journalists problem and also because holy shit the smut that exists in that tag.

Bering & Wells because they're just. Everything to me. For so many reasons. I don't know how to explain it. Excellently executed enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers to aquaintances-with-angst. Jamie Murray's Helena still takes me out every time I see gifsets. Normally I get annoyed about percieved queerbaiting as everyone does but the ending to this ship in canon doesn't feel like that: it feels like a natural end to a relationship like theirs that's been through the wringer that it was put through. They were absolutely destined to meet each other, but they weren't necessarily destined to stay together in every single universe and they're written in a way where I can accept that. If I could get tattoos safely, forever destined to meet at gunpoint might be one of them.