#just like he needs the other parts of him!!! Elias can’t live on ambition alone he can’t live on any one concept alone he needs everyone!!!

[spiritb0x]

To quote Brennan, we talked about balls so much this season, and I almost wept

[quillify-tries-to-talk]

Defense and Love

(A rewrite of that scene in Chain of Gold where Cordelia does not defend her brother when James calls him unworthy of his sister's love. Because I was angry. Because CC knows zero things about sibling interaction.)

Lemme know if you like it!

“I know you hate me for how I treated you in school, and rightfully so,” Alastair said. It was a wonder his voice was not shaking. “But however much you hate me, do not take it out on my sister.”

Please, the word hung from the very tip of his tongue, unspoken and desperate. His heart was galloping inside his chest with an almost painful intensity, even more so under Cordelia's watchful gaze. He couldn't break now. Not in front of her. She would ask, and how was he going to explain why he'd distorted into something he didn't recognize himself?

“Alastair," said Herondale in that low, cruel voice that took him back to the Academy, his own past coming back to haunt him, "you made my life a living hell at the Academy. But I’d never take it out on Cordelia. That’s something you would do, not something I would do.”

So he thought Alastair would hit his own sister. Good God. You don't know anything, rich boy, he wanted to snap. You have no idea what you're talking about. 

Perhaps it was his own fault. He’d hurt so many people in his quest to guard his family. His life had turned into one horrific, monotonous nightmare. Protect them. Protect Layla. Let her be happy. Let my mother be happy. Let Father never come back.

The rational part of his brain had taken over the reins. He stood up straighter, schooled his expression into blank, icy indifference, the mask he’d perfected at school. Let Herondale think what he wanted. Alastair had a job to do and he wasn't about to let patronizing sermons get in his way.

“I see how it is. In school I had the power, and here you have the power to lord it over me. What’s your game? What do you want with my sister?”

“Your sister,” James said, speaking with a slow, deliberate coldness. “Your sister is the only thing keeping me from punching you in the face. Your sister loves you, Angel knows why, and you aren’t even the least bit grateful.”

The words were more powerful than any Shadowhunter weapon. They ravaged the remains of his heart over and over again.

He was ten and watching his father trip on the floor of his bedroom as he collected the brandy bottles littered around. Elias had been too drunk to tell who’d been into his room.

He was twelve again and practicing the iratze. It will help Baba, he'd thought then, childish hope still guiding him through the dark descending over the horizon of their lives.

“You have no idea what I’ve done for my sister." His voice came out rough and shaking. Horror of all horrors, Cordelia was still looking at him as though seeing him in a new light. Did she agree with James? She could. She was thriving here. "You have no idea about our family. You don’t know the first thing—”

He was fifteen again and refusing to train with Layla for the hundredth time because his body ached like one giant bruise. It was Pounceby. His jaw and neck tingled with the sting of the phantom bruise. He was watching the hope in his sister's eyes die. I am sorry, he'd wanted to say then. I truly am. But I can't let you see this. Live, Layla.

Something knocked against his shoulder. Hard. Only his training, both physical and mental, kept him from stumbling back in surprise.

It was Cordelia. She’d come to stand in front of him, the way Alastair had done when they were kids whenever their father had been home. Like a shield, he realized in disbelief. He wanted to push her out of the way, but her outstretched arm only resulted in him shifting to the side so he could catch her expression.

Anger.   

He'd seen his sister annoyed. He'd seen his sister frustrated. He'd seen her distressed. He'd seen her scheme and calculate, always finding a way out of anything with her brilliant mind and ambition.

But never before had he seen her like this: dark eyes aflame, hands curled into fists, shoulders bunching up as though she was preparing to land a blow.

Oh. Oh no, no, no, no. A number of curses flashed through his head in all the languages he knew. Farsi. French. English. Urdu. 

He looked down at her, and his expression visibly softened. Alastair tried not to narrow his eyes. 

"James," Cordelia was saying. Her voice sounded normal. "You'd better go."

“Are you sure?” he said in a low voice. “I won’t leave you alone, Cordelia, not unless you wish me to.”

She seemed to rise taller, and in that moment Alastair was reminded why Cortana had chosen her. His sister looked the way their mother was, fire and embers and a gaze so piercing that the other person was left stuttering, though they'd originally come to scrutinize every inch of her. The colour of her eyes, her skin, why she covered her hair with a roosari.

He wished he had their courage. He wished he hadn't withdrawn into the shadows.

Thorns in your way, Esfandiyār, whispered Baba's voice inside his head. Why look back when you can look ahead?

But that would've entailed far worse consequences than a sermon.

Ahead? His thirteen-year-old, iratze-fumbling himself had wanted to snap as he'd stared at the glass sticking out of his foot, blood dripping on the floor. Ahead at your next bottle, Father? 

Cordelia's voice rang out in the hall, sharper than the crack of a whip. "I will say this once and only once, James Herondale. So listen carefully." She took another step closer and Herondale's eyes actually widened. In surprise? Or in whatever the hell had happened between them before coming home? Alastair thought dryly. 

"Do not for one moment think that you are my saviour," Cordelia said through her teeth. The words sent a jolt of surprise through him. "I am thankful for all your help, believe me, but my love for my brother has absolutely nothing to do with this."

A faint smile curled on the edges of Herondale's lips. "You still don't know what he did?"

Cordelia raised her brows, and oh there it was. The sibling resemblance. Clear as day in the anger cloaked behind disdain and a smile. "Why does my love for my family have to come between your feud?" she demanded. "Do I require your blessing to love them? You have notions about my brother that I would have expected from the Pouncebys."

He looked like she’d slapped him awake. "Daisy,  I—"

She took a step back, and the anxiety on his face heightened. Cordelia herself was trembling.

And Alastair? He still couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't move, save to draw breath. The scene unfolding before him seemed like a fever dream. Cordelia didn’t know how he’d tormented Herondale and Fairchild at the Academy. She had no idea of the bomb going off when he’d been mere inches from the building. She didn’t know why everyone hated him so much. He knew, and perhaps he was a greedy monster for making his sister choose between her love and her family.  

She raised a silencing hand when Herondale opened his mouth. "You assume that you know my brother better than I do. You assume that I am still Daisy—the girl with pretty ribbons in her hair, who needs your help to distinguish right from wrong. I will find out what happened at the Academy, but I will not stand idle while you say Alastair doesn’t deserve my love. You don’t get to choose who does or does not deserve me." She smiled, eyes glittering with the storms of the night. "You hurt my family, Mr. Herondale, and you will face my blade.”

Silence descended. Herondale’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between Alastair and Cordelia. A flicker of longing passed across his face as he saw Layla, there and gone. Alastair was gifted with a long, hard, assessing look. 

“You may take your leave now," Cordelia said coldly.

James's expression shuttered. Was Alastair the only one who noticed his sister's wince? Guilt twisted in his gut.

"Very well, Miss Carstairs," Herondale said in a low monotone. "As you wish."

As soon as he was out of sight, Cordelia seemed to shrink, deflate. 

Alastair snapped back to his senses. There were a number of things demanding his attention but he crossed the room to catch his sister by the elbow, older brother once more. His head was still reeling with the impossible absurdity of what had transpired. 

"Layla?" He tested out the name hesitantly. "What? I mean, you shouldn't have—"

"He said you don't deserve my love." She turned to face him, and to his horror, her dark eyes gleamed with tears. Tears on my behalf, he thought dizzily. 

What was this day?

In all the eighteen years of his life, he’d been used to working from the sidelines, slow and quiet. People did not need to see his tears, his frustration at himself. Only the anger and the sneering indifference he put up to keep them away. It had always been that way, ever since he had held Cordelia in his arms as a confused two-year-old. 

She is so small, mâmân!

I know, joon. Will you promise to help her?

“Why, Layla?” he snapped, and she flinched. He wanted to hit himself all over again. “Why did you do that? Herondale is not wrong. I have hurt people. I have done horrible, despicable things. You’re going to lose out on potential allies because of me, do you realize that? How will you save Father then? I thought--” He broke off, not wanting to say the dreaded word.

She lifted her chin and glared. “You thought what, dâdâsh?”

It was jarring to have heard her defend him, even more jarring than hearing the language of his home, the language he’d spent years shoving down because it tended to attract the wrong sort of attention. It was jarring that she’d even noticed his trembling hands or the tears that were clawing at his throat, begging to be let out. It had been years since he’d truly cried but London seemed hell bent on breaking him. He'd never really thought how much he'd needed Cordelia by his side. How many years had passed with just pushing and pushing and pushing people away until time sped by and they simply grew out of their love for you.

His sister was no longer a baby. She was nearly as tall as him, looking him in the eye, silent and waiting. 

"I thought you-you... loved him."

She closed her eyes. "I do. I think so. It doesn't mean I stand by idly while he goes on insulting my brother. It certainly does not mean that I hold back on my own feelings." Her eyes opened. A wry smile played on her lips. “You keep forgetting that only I am allowed to insult you, Alastair.”

Hoarse laughter escaped him, and Cordelia looked delighted to have been the cause. 

Taglist: @youngreckless @eugeniaslongsword (look, your annoyance inspired me lol), @cant-think-of-anything @reesecarstairs @cherilyn-rose @carstairs-hopelessly

[musiciatee]

Are there any new ocs you want to share? Or one that you already have but want to discuss? Tell us about them!

okay so i’ve actually been really thinking about doing something with the hp universe and suddenly my dumb ass had three ocs on my hands. originally i had intended to write three different stories for each of them, but i’m growing increasingly fond of the idea of just creating one story and featuring all of them. each one of them is so different in terms of background and experiences that i think it’d be so cool to see a story from each of their points of view, like seeing the same events from different eyes. but yeah i’mma put them under the cut so i don’t take up space lmaoooo

tHANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!!

Elia Potter - so I’ve been playing around with the idea of Elia for a long while and she’s definitely the one i’ve got mostly together. I still think there’s a lot of room for improvement on my part, but what i’ve got so far is that she’s James Potter’s much younger sister. the thing that’s holding me back mostly is that the Potters were already described as “older” when they had James and that’s probably why he was an only child, but also this is fanfiction so like, fuck it?? but yeah, there’s about a 13/14 year age gap between them so it’s pretty significant.

BUT ANYWAYS

i’m still working out details, but since her parents probably passed, she’s living with her brother, and for whatever reason, she’s not in Godric’s Hollow when Ol’ Voldy comes a knockin’. Blah blah blah, fast forward a lot (like i said, still working out details, whoops). I’m gonna be picking up her story at the beginning of Sorcerer’s Stone. It’s a really stressful time for her ‘cause she never got to see Harry after that night, Dumbledore relocated him and considering Elia was about seven years old, her nephew’s location was never revealed to her ‘cause what was a seven year old gonna do? Dumbledore obviously knew best, right? But now, Elia’s right out of Hogwarts, she’s got a job, and she’s hell bent on meeting her nephew who, she’s pretty sure, has no idea she exists. so she’s a tad bit nervous.

Shailee Patil- Miss. Shailee over here is the older sister of the ever beloved and never discussed Patil twins. She’s two years their senior and in the Weasley twins’ year and a Hufflepuff. She’s very much a Type A personality, has had her future planned for herself since the age of eight, talks more to her cat than other human beings (at least, that’s the bit of feedback she gets from her sisters, she disagrees, realistically, she has to interact with other humans more than her cat. She can’t carry her cat everywhere around Hogwarts (she knows, she tried)). But it’s that kind of meek, awkward, and a-lil-bit-strange personality that draws the twins to her. She’s too nice to tell them to leave her alone, and the twins just find her hilarious even when she’s not trying to be.

i’m gonna be completely honest, i dunno a lot about her, but i know she’s gonna have a large secret that would be absolutely devastating if anyone found out  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sherine Shafiq- Sherine is, I think, going to be one of my faves. She’s in Harry’s year and comes from a Sacred Twenty Eight family that no one ever hears about in the actual series so I get to be real free with her and her family. Basic premise is that her family relies heavily on the need to not only survive, but also thrive in whatever social situation they’re placed in, which caused them to get involved in a lot of shady shit during the first wizarding world, and in the process, they’ve kind of lost themselves, putting more emphasis on success, power, and ambition than morals and family security. It’s a bit cliche, but I think I basically wanted to run parallels between her and Sirius? She gets to Hogwarts and is sorted into Slytherin and everything is great until she realizes that people are so fake and she can’t find anything genuine with them until she sits and speaks to a muggleborn (probably hermione tbh) and she’s like “holy shit ur nothing like my parents told me you would be” (also they’d bond over being poc, y’all can pry black hermione from my cold, dead fingers) and her story would primarily be following how her view of the world is transformed and turned upside down, but also she’s going to learn how to be independent and how to think for herself, and that journey is going to be so good.

she’s a bit of a wild card, she’s pragmatic as hell. it’s just something that’s been so embedded in her that she can’t shake it, but pragmatism isn’t inherently evil, something our golden trio will come to understand after a lil while of being exposed to her. tbh i picture her as being a bit of like, a Lydia Martin-esque figure? like she acts stuck up and holier-than-thou but she does so with a clear purpose, which definitely rubs people the wrong way ‘cause it feels like everything she does is either an act or has an ulterior motive.

major shit hits the fan when voldy returns tho, and i am so excited for that.