#tessa rosewood

[tessalovesstuff]

Here's Part 3 of my long-running fan-comic Lupin III: Forever and a Day! This is pages 33-61 (originally posts run from August 2020 through November 2020 on my Instagram (look in my saved stories)).

*FIRST* <<PREVIOUS NEXT >>

***MASTERPOST***

[thetavolution]

five character associations — Ingrid, Bex, and Tessa

Tagged by @razrogue (thank you!)

INGRID

emotions

anxiety

patience

determined

motivated

self-conscious

colors

dark blue

burnt orange

eggplant

sapphire

orchid purple

scents

lavender

sage

strawberries

freshly baked honey cake

chai spices

objects

her tattooing kit

herbs, like sage and lavender

a carving of a spider given as a gift from a loved one

carefully and respectfully collected bones

her quarterstaff

body language

a shy yet kind smile

keeping her eyes averted, nervously

getting lost in a big hug

a squeeze of a hand

staying by someone's side to comfort them

aesthetics

a spider in its web

tattoos delicately drawn on flesh

bones and decaying corpses

a breezy autumn day

curled up with an animal or two, like a cat or an owlbear

BEX

emotions

irreverent

empathy

affectionate

ennui

shame

colors

pink

ruby red

lilac

rosewood

mint green

scents

homemade bread

freshly brewed coffee

blood oranges

poppies

a cozy bonfire

objects

her antique violin

an old worn recipe book

a well-loved wooden spoon for cooking

her Knife of the Undermountain King

a lovingly baked macaron

body language

discreetly reaching out to link pinkies together

a look of complete detachment, in the throes of dissociating

a gentle squeeze of the arm for support

sitting in a special someone's lap with her arms around them

a genuine smile seeping through her smirk

aesthetics

a warm kitchen filled with fresh baked goods

a violin perched on a shoulder

piles of books, including recipe books

an endless field of poppies

coffee brewing over an open fire

TESSA

emotions

affectionate

impatient

capable

invigorated

lonely

colors

green

blue-green

snow white

aquamarine

dark brown

scents

pine forest

a warm cup of black tea

cranberry cake

crisp, clean snow

the smell of a rainy morning

objects

a pressed rose given to her by her mother

a deck of cards (possibly tampered with)

a notebook to write stories of her own

the shadow of Menzoberranzan to obscure her face

her sword of screams

body language

standing with her arms over her chest, cautious but standoffish

a quick and playful peck on the cheek

hiding in the shadows to disappear from sight

playing with a dagger with one hand

a quick and silent nod of acknowledgement

aesthetics

a cold, snowy day

roses and rose tattoos

a gambling table

an imposing yet loving winter wolf

sitting in front of the fireplace with a book

No obligation tagging: @tavsboots @himbo-hunter-hadrian @whenwindwhispers and anyone else who wants to do it!

[manyfandomocs]

World Building Wednesday + Tessa

Yes yes

B A S I C S

full name: Tessa June Marin

gender: Cis Female

sexuality: Queer

pronouns: She/Her

O T H E R S

family: Ashley Marin (Mother), Tom Marin (Father), Isabel Marin (Stepmother), Hanna Marin (Older Sister), Kate Randall (Stepsister)

birthplace: Rosewood, Pennsylvania

job: Student, TBD on future

phobias: Buried alive

guilty pleasures: Reality TV

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: neutral good

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert

organized/disorganized

close minded/open-minded

calm/anxious (got more anxious as A appeared)

disagreeable/agreeable

cautious/reckless

patient/impatient

outspoken/reserved

leader/follower

empathetic/unemphatic

optimistic/pessimistic (more pessimistic after Ali's disappearance)

traditional/modern

hard-working/lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Tessa/Mike

ot3: Tessa/Mike/Idk Lucas maybe?

brotp: Tessa/Hanna

notp: Tessa/Spencer

Send WBW and an oc for…

[hexusproductions]

Happy Birthday Mac!

Summary: It’s a special occasion, and Meister, Tessa, Maxime and Rose have a surprise for Mac Author’s Note: A birthday present for my good friend @couldyounottalktomethanks, took a little longer to write than I had thought or hoped but I hope you love it Deer! Happy birthday from me and your fellow partners-in-crime!

“Surprise!”

Mac stood in the doorway as Michel and the other Horsewomen cheered. They stood around a table with a cake sitting on it, decorated with icing and candles.

“Oh my god.” Mac grinned as she walked forward.

“Happy birthday!” Tessa cheered. Rose and Maxime gave some impromptu jazz hands while Michel smiled, and Mac looked at all of them.

“I can’t believe you guys.”

“Oh come on it was all Meister’s idea.”

“Pfffft no it was not.” Mac scoffed.

“Nah it wasn’t it was mostly us but he willingly said yes!” Rose pointed at Michel and he chuckled before stepping forward.

“Happy birthday, Mac,” He repeated, taking her hand in his, “You look more beautiful each year.” Mac’s eyes widened and she yanked her hand away, weakly punching his arm.

“S-Shut up.” She stammered, crossing her arms as her face went red up to her ears. The others laughed before all turning their attention to the cake. They sang, of course, with Michel taking the lead, of course, and then Mac paused to think before blowing out the candles.

“Don’t tell us what you wished for or it won’t come true!” Maxime warned, handing a knife over to Mac.

“And remember, if you hit the bottom you’ll have to kiss the person to your right!” Rose added, smiling mischievously. Mac glanced to Michel, who was standing to her right, and immediately blushed again. She started cutting into the cake, very slowly, keeping her gaze on the knife the whole time. Rose smiled wider before almost leaping forward to quickly but carefully shove Mac’s hand down so the knife hit the bottom of the plate. Mac let out a squawk of surprise and had no time to react before Michel snaked a hand around her waist and kissed her.

Rose grinned and Tessa laughed, and Michel didn’t take back his arm as he smirked at Mac.

“Um…” Was the only thing she could think to say, and Rose crossed her arms smugly.

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday, nerd.”

[perles-infinite-fictional-love]

The Horsewomen Mugshots.

@couldyounottalktomethanks @the-mighty-sorceress @tessalovesozzy

[r-inijhinix]

A little idea that has been in my head for a while now. It was originally supposed to be only a few lines, but we have this instead. My bad. I hope you enjoy!

TW: Semi-graphic panic attacks and mentions of blood

Kit couldn't sleep for months after Mina was kidnapped. Every time he shut his eyes, images of his baby sister - bleeding, dying, too late for him to save - flashed through his mind, the screams that rose to his throat silenced before they could ever be heard, and every time Jem or Tessa asked him about the increasingly tired look on his face, he insisted he was fine. The daylight and his family chased away the demons night brought, and they already had too much to worry about. The few hours of fitful rest he did get were enough to last him through the day, so what was the point? Over a decade with Johnny Rook as a housemate left him a good liar, and he was able to blame his lethargy on school work and excessive Shadowhunter training. And this worked. For a while, at least.

It was Jem who found him one night, laying on the hardwood floor of Mina's room, panicked breaths leaving his mouth and hands clamped tight over his forearms, the grip hard enough that Kit felt his own fingernails dig into his skin. The air mattress his parents had bought him when he'd first resorted to sleeping in Mina's room had been thrown against the wall. At once his dad was there, speaking to Kit in soothing tones, reassuring him there was nothing really wrong. Kit clung to that voice the same way a drowning man clung to his lifejacket, but he could still feel himself going under, deep enough even sunlight couldn't reach. He didn't remember what his nightmare had been about, only that his sister had been there. His sister and Ty Blackthorn. . .

Pushing the thought from his mind, Kit focused on Jem, and once his adopted father was sure Kit was okay, they both peered into Mina's crib. The toddler was still asleep, a small smile etched across her face as she dreamed about things only children could see. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kit knew he himself was still technically a child, but it had been a long time since he felt that way. Being the First Heir and a Shadowhunter, being a Herondale and a crook's bloodborne son, trying his best to be enough, yet feeling like he wasn't anywhere close. . . it was all too much at times.

Without words, Jem seemed to understand this. He left the room and, for a brief moment, Kit wondered if he had finally had enough. Perhaps Jem had decided he didn't want a 17-year-old problem child who got night terrors as a son after all and was informing Tessa of the news. But Jem came back, as he always did, and this time he wasn't empty-handed. Kit recognized the instrument in his hands immediately: A violin. Jem's violin. Kit had seen and heard him play it enough times that he was positive he could recognize it blind. But instead of sliding his bow across the strings and releasing a melodious tune as he always did, Jem handed the violin to Kit, tucking the rounded half under his chin and arranging Kit's fingers so they were clasping the bow.

"Play," Jem instructed him.

The rest of the night disappeared in a whirlwind of missed notes and patient teaching, but by the end - hours after they had decided to move from Mina's room to the courtyard so as not to disturb anyone - Kit understood why Jem found such solace in his instrument. It was a medium for Kit to transmit all of his raging thoughts and disgruntled feelings into, an anchor holding him steady when it felt like the tides would drag him out to sea.

It took two days for Kit to learn he could use the violin whenever he needed it (which was every night, if he was being honest) and two weeks for him to buy his own (a small thing made of rosewood, chosen in part to honor his mother and in part because of the low price). As the twilight music sessions bled into broad daylight (no longer, for the most part, because of Kit's running nerves and instead a passion for playing) Tessa joked she wasn't sure what she wanted a break from more: Mina's loud temper tantrums or the supposed banshee wails Kit's instrument produced. They had all laughed at that, even Mina, who, despite not understanding the joke, was happy just because everyone else was.

It was then a feeling of contentment and joy so fierce it burned warmed the inside of Kit's chest. This was his family; this was his home; this was where he belonged. And fuck the world if it thought it could take this away from him.

----------------

The New York Institute was a beast dressed down in bright colors to look fancy. Streamers and balloons and flowers touched every inch of the building, and the tables were decorated with golden clothes and porcelain vases filled with plants. The wedding was set to take place in four days, but it may as well have been that night with how perfectly everything was already in place.

When Jace and Clary had visited Kit and his family in Devon several months ago with news of their recent engagement and an invitation to their wedding, it had felt like a far-off dream. An unreality Kit always knew would happen but couldn't quite fathom. He had been surprised by the overwhelming jubilance he had felt for his cousin - Jace had wanted this for so long, he knew, and all of his dreams were finally coming to fruition.

Right before the pair had left, Jace had said quietly to Kit the Blackthorns would also be present at the wedding, a quiet question in his words. Swallowing the thought of what might happen if he saw Ty again, Kit shrugged and said he hadn't thought otherwise. Emma was close to Clary, after all, and where she went Julian and the rest of the Blackthorns would surely follow. He got along fine with Dru, having been texting her on and off for months, and the same could be said about Julian and Emma. In fact, if Ty was taken out of the equation, the Blackthorns wouldn't be a problem at all, but it was Ty who made them an issue in the first place.

Kit still remembered seeing him in Blackthorn Hall, right before Mother Hawthorn had taken Mina, his tan collared shirt snug against the lines of muscle around his arms, the flashing silver eyes wide with shock and tinged with sadness. His hushed voice when he had whispered, "That's not how you clean a gun."

Sometimes, it felt like the only thing Kit could think about was Ty. It drove him crazy how, even years after he had left Los Angeles, there was one ghost from his past he could never escape. Two, technically, if you count Livvy. Every moment he had ever shared with that boy was burned into his mind, so clear it was like they had just happened. Kit remembered the metallic glow of the knife Ty had held to his throat when they had first met, the way he had thought, "How beautiful"; he remembered the smile it felt like Ty reserved for him especially, the one that was like a sunrise reflecting off the water; he remembered the tortured look on Ty's face when he had tried to raise Livvy, the confusion when Kit had confessed, "I love you, Ty. I love you."

And now the chance of seeing the boy who broke his heart was greater than ever. They would be sharing a building for a few weeks, because the Blackthorns and Carstaies-Gray-Herondales would be staying in the Institute for some time after the wedding was over and most of the other guests had left, but Kit was certain he could avoid the Blackthorns for most of that time. Whether it be chatting with Simon about mundane movies and shows, or getting Jace to teach him something new about being a Shadowhunter, or hanging out with Mina, there were plenty of plausibe distractions for Kit. But even with this in mind, he knew he would have to speak with Ty at least once before this was all over. He wasn't sure why, but it was as true a fact as death.

As for right now, all Kit needed to do was figure out how to straighten his damnable tie. Deciding fashion could wait for tomorrow, he found his violin in its black case and tucked it neatly underneath the crook of his arm. Locating a flight of stairs, Kit took the steps two at a time until he was greeted with a heavy metal door with a "Roof access for Shadowhunter personnel only" sign plastered on it. The door was locked, but it took Kit a matter of seconds to fix that problem, and he swung it open, stepping onto the roof of the New York Institute.

The wind was calmer than it had been the morning before, and it was dark, the few stars that were visible alarmingly bright next to the full moon. Kit took his violin from the case, and muscle memory took care of the rest. Slotting it underneath his chin, his fingers danced on the familiar wood of the bow as it slid neatly across the strings, wrenching out a tune both mournful and soothing, a blissful series of notes piercing through the night air.

The sound of feet thumping softly against the ground brought Kit back to reality, and, glancing down, he realized there was what seemed to be a lynx sitting patiently at his feet. She had black ears that ended in soft tufts, and white-gray fur spotted with slightly darker spots. Belatedly, he realized she must belong to one of the families Jace had invited. That or his cousin had bought an overgrown cat without telling anyone.

"Hey there, you," Kit murmured softly, bending down so he was almost eye-level to the lynx. "The door was open, wasn't it? That's my bad. I hope you don't get too cold out here. But, then again, if I've learned anything from Church it's that cats are stubborn little demonic bastards. I'm sure you're doing just fine."

He offered his hand tentatively, letting it hover just above the lynx's head so she could turn away if necessary. But the lynx just nuzzled her face into his skin, whiskers scratching gently against his skin.

"What's your name, little lady?" he asked quietly, despite knowing she had no way of responding.

"Irene," a smooth, honey-like voice said.

Kit startled, hand halting above the lynx's - Irene's - head. He hadn't heard anyone coming. Glancing up, his mind immediately flared to life, painting a hundred pictures of a boy with dazzling silver eyes and curling hair, a boy with a spectacular mind and a smile like the sun.

Because standing right above him was Ty Blackthorn.

----------------

Ty didn't understand when Irene suddenly started clawing at the door of their guest room. Studies showed that when animals expressed a will to escape their current enclosure, it was often because of they were discontent with their surroundings. He was all too aware of being unresponsive to change, but he hadn't thought Irene would be the same way.

There were a lot of things, though, in the New York Institute Irene could be uncomfortable with. The jarring journey from the Scholomance to the Los Angeles Institute to here for Jace's wedding couldn't have been easy for Irene, he supposed, so he opened the door and kept a keen eye on his lynx.

Almost immediately, Irene bolted out of the room, Ty's Shadowhunter training being the only thing that allowed him to keep up with her as she scampered up a flight of stairs, quickly reaching an open door that led to the wide plain of the Institute's roof.

It didn't take long for Ty to register what had attracted Irene here: It was the music. For there was a boy, elegantly postured with moonlight turning his light blonde hair white, playing a violin, long fingers releasing a sound so beautiful it made Ty's heart turn. It was hopelessly depressing, in a way, like the din someone mourning their lost love would give. But at the same time it was steady and safe, an iron wall guiding your backside.

Ty had never been good with feelings, and this case was no exception, but he was at once struck with the sense he had never experienced something like this, and he didn't want it to abandon him ever. He was familiar with music, with the classical tunes his headphones emitted when he placed them over his ears, but he had never heard something that gave him this overwhelming sense of belonging.

Irene trotted over to the musician, completely comfortable with this perfect stranger. The boy stopped playing, making Ty's gut clench with a sense of disappointment, and spotted her, crouching down so that he could pet Irene.

In the next moment, two thoughts bled through Ty's head. One: Irene, who didn't even let Anush touch her and despised everyone who wasn't Ty, was letting someone neither of them knew run his hands along the silken coat of her back fur. Two: That his first thought was wrong, because Ty did know this man, had seem him enough times in his dreams it was a wonder he didn't recognize him immediately. Because this was Kit Herondale.

He looked gorgeous, Ty thought, and happy in a way he had never seen before. There was a small smile etched across Kit's face as he petted Irene, and it made him look so vulnerable and like something worth protecting that Ty wanted to hug him, the same way Kit had hugged him on the roof of the Los Angeles Institute so many years ago. But Kit's words from when they had both been in Blackthorn Hall still rang in Ty's ears, when he had asked Kit when the other boy would forgive him, and Kit said he didn't know.

It would be for the best if Ty turned away now, gone before Kit even noticed him. Irene would be safe, judging by the protective way Kit was holding her, and it would stop the pain of hearing Kit turn him away once more before it even began. But Ty couldn't walk away, not when Kit was involved.

Gliding soundlessly across the floor of the roof, Ty reached Kit just in time to hear him say in a barely audible voice, "What's your name, little lady?"

Kit's voice was deeper than it had been months ago, rich and full of curious affection. Unable to stop himself, Ty answered his question: "Irene."

If it hadn't been obvious before, it was now clear Kit had no idea Ty had been standing there, for he jolted back a step and glanced up wildly, going perfectly still when his eyes landed on Ty's.

Ty let his gaze drop immediately - those eyes, such an intense blue like a stove fire, permanently burned into his memory - and it landed instead on the small mole on Kit's cheekbone.

"Irene," Kit whispered, then quoted the first words of Doyle Ty had ever read: "To Sherlock Holmes, she is always the woman."

Shocked, Ty lifted his view of Kit's face slightly, realizing Ty's own look of astonishment was mirrored there. Almost as if against his will, the corners of Kit's lips were twitching upwards into a bare smile. He had never thought Kit read the Sherlock Holmes novels. More importantly, he had never thought Kit would memorize such a trivial line as that first one. But Kit had, and Kit remembered.

Maybe it meant nothing, but maybe it meant more than that. Maybe there was a chance, after all, of mending a friendship that had fallen apart years ago. Maybe by the end of this week, the boy Ty had been chasing after for months, always just out of his reach, would be a little closer. Could be his again.

Meanwhile Irene lay there confused, wondering how there were two people crowding around her and not a single one was giving her well-deserved headpats.

[bridgetlisbon]

Pride parties were not foreign to Bridget, she’d been to many when she’d been on her world tour of self discovery. It was different in Rosewood though, where as enigmatic as she was she was still a Lisbon. Not that she was hiding - her former classmates from Welton had to have some idea of who she was or they most certainly weren’t the best and brightest as the school had so vocally liked to proclaim - she was just used to being in the background, unnoticed. When people thought of the Lisbons they thought of Nova, the life of the party; or Marina, the belladonna, beautiful and deadly; or Tessa, sunshine personified, even Cecily, the quiet, observant one. She was the spare so she’d found herself off to the side, watching the dance floor. “Can I help you?” she asked as someone joined her, clearly in her personal space. It was moments like that where one could absolutely see the thread of connection between herself and Marina.

[tessa-lisbon]

Tessa could not have been having a better time at the ball, especially after Nova’s name was called to the stage. It was silly in her eyes, the whole prom queen thing, but Nova enjoyed it and who was she to look down upon anything that made her sister feel like the princess she was? “I’m not sure if that was supposed to sound so ominous,” she mused, hands busy playing with the petals of a flower one of her sisters had given her, “ushering in a new era of Rosewood society. Sounds a little Hunger Games-y...”

[lisbonnova]

PANIC 04. TWENTY QUESTIONS

TAGGING : @tessa-lisbon , @marinalisbon , @bridgetlisbon, @cecilylisbons

LOCATION : the dollhouse 

TRIGGERS : abuse, forced pregnancy, miscarriage

NOTES : i would like to speak to the manager of panic™ 

“Let me out! I don’t want to play this stupid game anymore.” Nova practically pleaded for what seemed like the thousandth time since she had been unceremoniously plucked out of her everyday life, tugging at the cuffs around her wrists desperately, hoping that by some miracle she had enough strength to free herself. Miracles, however, were for people who had faith in some higher power. For people who expected life to give them any kind of mercy. A notion that Nova had abandoned a long time ago. Or at least she thought she had. Yet here she was silently reciting every prayer she had learned in Sunday school. In between crying and aggressively banging every surface she could get her hands on hoping to find some kind of escape path. She wasn’t a horror buff by any means but she knew enough about movie tropes to figure what role she was to play in whatever weird snuff film this situation had taken inspiration from.

It seemed that all of her fight and bargaining apparently fell upon deaf ears since she remained stuck there for the foreseeable future. Or at least until they grew bored of whatever scheme they had concocted she supposed. She wasn’t exactly sure how long she had been cooped up in the room, or maybe cell was a better word for it, she had been thrown into. Whether it was hours or minutes. Time just seemed to blend together the longer she was kept in there with no explanation as to why. And the more time passed the more anxious and desperate she was to get out. The idea of being trapped and alone triggering some deeper underlying trauma from literally being locked away from the rest of the world by her parents. The lack of control over her own life and safety taking her back to that point in time when she truly felt weak and helpless once again. If the goal of having her wait it out was to let her defenses down then it was definitely working. 

“No sense in keeping me here if i’m not gonna play along with your bullshit anyways.” She said tiredly, obviously tired but with the usual tenacity and brattiness of her usual self. And that was when she was hit with a shock, yelling out as the pain ran through her body. It was a test shock, she was notified over a speaker overhead by a voice that she quickly recognized as Penn’s weasel voice, and a warning of what consequences she would face if she didn’t comply with the challenge. Apparently it was too late to back out now that she had let it go this far. And if the idea of being put through that pain again wasn’t bad enough the stakes were raised even higher when the screen in the room lit up with the image of Marina in a similar position. The rules were pretty simple. Answer a series of twenty one questions correctly and they would both be set free. And if she didn’t one of the two girls would be shocked. 

The questions came in random increments of time but for the most part started out relatively simple. They had her divulge information about herself in a similar manner to those lame ice breaker games they would make kids do back in school. And for the most part she went through those with ease. It almost seemed like it was all some big joke. For just a moment she truly believed that she had a chance at getting through this challenge with her and her sister unscathed. But she should have known they were only warming up.

The questions soon turned to more personal topics, from verifying outlandish rumors that had spread about her since her days at St. Agnes (like if it was true she fucked the whole basketball team) to inquiries about her family. It wasn’t until then that the purpose of the challenge really sunk in. The real reason why she wasn’t allowed to just drop out. The Lisbon sisters had always been an enigma in Rosewood. Lots of questions but never any real answers as to who they were, where they came from, or why they were the way that they were. And with how much the girls liked to keep personal subjects close to the chest and stick to each other for the most part all anyone could really do was come up with theories. Whoever was behind this game wanted information, they wanted to demystify the legend that surrounded her family now that they finally had their claws in them.

Do you secretly hate your sisters?

“No! Never!” She answered firmly without a second thought, confident about her answer since it was a no brainer. Her sisters were everything to her. It was kinda how people liked to say someone was their other half. They were her other half, or the other 4/5ths of her. Even though she was probably the most selfish out of the bunch, not a single thing she did was done without thinking about her sisters. Even when they were at odds with each other. They had grown up with only each other to rely on and had forged bonds that were never going to break. No matter how many trials and tribulations they went through. But it seemed her response wasn’t deemed good enough because a few seconds later she registered Marina’s pained expression akin to the one she was sure she made earlier when she was shocked. “What the fuck? I told the truth. How the fuck are you gonna tell me how I feel? Hey! Answer me!” She remarked. “Maybe at some point I felt resentment or disappointment over the way certain things went down but that doesn’t mean i’ve ever hated them.” She said mostly for her sisters to hear, if they were watching at this point. 

The next few couple of questions started getting into their parents, probably trying to decipher that relationship. Why it was that they weren’t a part of their lives. And Nova was happy to answer those, exposing the abusive pieces of shit they were. How emotionally abusive and manipulative they had been all masked behind their so called good intentions and tough love. She of course didn’t go into as much detail when she felt it was something that could expose any of her sisters personal secrets. But she was tired of staying quiet and in turn giving them a pass for the bullshit they had put the girls through. Not when she was still trying to break free of the mental toll their words, and actions, and reprimands had taken on her; breaking down all her sense of worth and self esteem.

Why did your parents pull you out of school senior year?

“....don’t do this....” She cried softly, feeling like all of the air had left her lungs in that moment. The silence that followed spoke more volumes than anything else she could have said in that moment. To any outside observer it might have seemed that she wasn't answering only to save face, that she valued her own reputation over anything else. But as hard as Nova tried to mutter another word her effort was to no avail. Not a peep came past her shaky lips. And before she knew it she had ran out of time. She squeezed her eyes shut as a shock more powerful than the one she had first felt hit her. She screamed out in pain but honestly the shock wasn’t in quite as much pain as her heart was at the moment. Nova laid on the floor curled up, crying and recovering. Waiting another indefinite amount of time before the next question came. 

What was found in your things at St. Agnes that was bad enough to have the your parents lock you up from the rest of the world?

This time Nova wasn’t as caught off guard. The fact that whoever had made up these questions went out of their way to ask the same question only with different wording let her know exactly what they were actually trying to get out of her. The one secret she planned to take to her grave. The one secret she hadn’t told anyone. Not her therapist. Not her boyfriend. Not even her own sisters. 

“A pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test. I was pregnant. Is that answer good enough for you?” She spat out with all the rage and venom that had been festering within her from all the years of pent up resentment. A kind of anger that she had never let herself feel before. 

Where is that baby now?

This time the question came without repose, the judges probably figuring that it was better to get the answer out of her when she was still so raw and vulnerable. Which they would have been right about since it seemed she had nothing left to lose. All the bad memories she had long tried to bury and move on from were out in the open to everyone now, there was no hiding anything behind any sense of mystery or mystique. That was gone. She sighed heavily and shook her head. 

“Didn’t make it past the whole pregnancy stage. Despite my parents best efforts to see it all the way through. Guess I just wasn’t made to be the maternal type.”

At this point she was letting it all go. All she wanted was to get the challenge done as quickly as possible so she could get her sister to safety. And so she could be done with this challenge. Whether she won or lost, none of that mattered to her anymore. 

[tessalovesstuff]

This was something I drew for @curleyclown in April 2023! I have been meaning post this on here along with other lovely artwork I made for friends on Instagram!

[brodiebalcoin]

Name: Marilyn “Marnie” Balcoin

Age: 27 (though lbr in real time she’d be like..in her 30s LOL)

Occupation: New York Times Investigative Reporter / Current PhD Student 

FC: Im-Jinah 

Parents: Brodie Balcoin & Juno Nam 

Hometown: Rosewood, IL

Bio:

Eldest Balcoin kid, the main reason for Brodie getting his shit together.

Marnie very rarely talks about the earliest years of her life, especially the vague memories she has of living in her maternal grandparents house or the courtroom where her parents had to fight for custody. She rarely talks about the turmoil between her parents, the tension and drama around it all. She had always been “too young” to know and yet old enough to understand that her parents were flawed and complicated people. 

As far as Marnie is concerned, her life started in the little apartment she used to live in with her father and Aunt Willow, her earliest memories of them making a mess out of the kitchen and her Aunt reading her bedtime stories. From her, the greatest writer she knows, she found her love of books and counted on Willow to give her the best book recommendations for every holiday and birthday. 

Like any child, her relationship with her mother is complicated to say the least. She adores Juno and whenever she gets the chance she calls her, flies in to see her or just sends her flowers. She’s come to understand her more as she gets older and there’s a deep sympathy she has but also a frustration at her mother’s inability to free herself of her family completely. 

At the same time, there is no doubt the kind of mother figure that Marnie found in Colette Mendez. Her stepmother and perhaps the best one a girl could ever ask for. From a young age, she can remember watching both Colette and her father rise to stardom but the kind of empowerment that Colette imparted onto her was unshakable. Almost unstoppable and she has never been shy about claiming her relation to Colette and always celebrates her every mother’s day. Though she still can never rid herself of the guilt of balancing the love of two mothers. But she saves that for her therapist. 

She and Brodie remain incredibly close to this day. But not without difficulty. There were a lot of growing pains during her teen and college years and in many ways she had become so much like him. It also didn’t help that she lived in a headspace where she was so afraid to let him down or afraid to ever make him feel like he had ever let her down. He worked so hard and she just wanted to do right by him. But eventually, a particularly tough time in her Senior year at Ravenwood led to a breakthrough and a heart to heart. It was the first time in their lives both she and Brodie started going to therapy and started to be more open with each other. #makingmyselfcry

When it comes to the rest of her St. Elmo’s elders, there is not a day where she doesn’t get a check in text from either Aiden, Kirby or Keegan and she calls Lana at least twice a week. And if she forgets, they will all absolutely get on her ass about it. She also refuses to wear anything but Keegan’s designs for any special event. #1 fan.

And then there’s the influence of the Lisbon sisters who to this day Marnie continues to hold up as some of her biggest role models. In some ways, it was being a part of their lives that sparked her curiosity for questions unanswered and her eventual career in investigative reporting. She checks in with them often but speaks to Marina the most, though with her new adventures in cooking Tessa may be receiving her calls more than ever. 

After growing up in Rosewood, attending Rosewood Academy and then eventually Ravenwood University, Marnie left Rosewood a week after her college graduation and if it hadn’t been for her parents celebration, she probably would have left sooner. Not because she hates Rosewood but because she was eager to see everything beyond it. To truly find out who she could be beyond Brodie Balcoin’s daughter. Since then she’s traveled all around the world, gotten her heart broken, broken some in return, got the job of her dreams and is currently a very, very proud plant mom. 

Being older now, she sees the St. Elmo’s parents in a different light than she did growing up and though quite often she can feel like the Mom with her cousins and her friend group, she’s come to deeply appreciate the vast and loving network her parents created and nurtured for her. She’s #grateful and she’s too grown to be as bratty as she was in her college years. 

She currently has an apartment in New York but spends the majority of her time traveling. 

As always, if you want to plot hmuuu 💙

[perriecruz]

“I’m a little offended we never got a party like this when we were young. I would have killed to have it warm while I celebrated christmas.” Perrie said to his long time friend Tessa. Whenever he was back in Rosewood the first person he always came to see was her. Their friendship had maintained over the years which meant everything to Perrie since Tessa had always been one of his favorite people. “I managed to snag some of your famous cupcakes before they were all gone. I might have to ask for a few to go. Nathan still won’t let me live down the time I baked them and forgot to add sugar. He prefers them from the source.” ( @tessa-lisbon​ )

[therochefortestate]

Two Sides of the Same Coin

The Skyline Armory was eloquently lit as always, giving life to the varnished rosewood walls, furniture and giving a glowing sheen to the various guns, staves and blades being displayed through the display glasses.

Huxley was an elderly, well-dressed Elven gentleman with long hair that he wore in two long pigtail braids. He was as pale as ever with faded green eyes that were slowly going on him. Sensitive to sunlight, he often left the blinds and windows closed so he could work without blinding himself to the outside world. Some customers who favor his services often gift him with an offering of scented candles, to remind him of places across the world he can’t visit anymore with his age.  

“Spirit of Blackened Evergreen? I’ve never heard of this before.” he said, uncorking the candle and taking a sniff. It bore the soft scent of pine needles braised with the salt of a nearby ocean.

“While I do appreciate the gesture, I must ask. What are you doing in Tol Barad?” he said, doing a quick count of the order for the woman before him.

“Work as usual, Huxley my dear.” said Isabelle, looking around at the various weapons both effective and ‘experimental’ in the room, before walking to the large, square mirror at the corner of the room. She looked back to Huxley. “My contacts?” she asked eagerly, while unpacking various pins, ribbons and hair-ties onto a nearby counter. She undid the long braid she kept her hair in, before letting it fall to the floor and giving it a good shake. She pulled out a little bottle of eye-drops and began to apply them.

Huxley nodded, before pulling out a tiny box from under the desk. “Over here, my dear”. He said, beckoning her over.  

“Wonderful!” she said, as she rushed for the counter. Her vision blurred from the drops, she couldn’t see the length of her hair and how sprawled it was across the floor. She stumbled multiple times on the way over Huxley's desk.

“By the way. I apologize, but I do make and must sell these in pairs”. Huxley winked and smiled. Isabelle rolled her eye, before picking up a tea on the counter that a customer brought him, finishing it in one gulp, and slamming the cup down. Huxley hopped back with a playful laugh. “My apologies, Isabelle! Store policy!”. Isabelle laughed, before walking back to the mirror with the velvet green box in hand, looking down for her hair, careful not to step on it.  

Back at the mirror, she stared as her hazel-coloured eye emblazoned to a bright emerald green with the contact. Satisfied, she blinked and she pulled out two ear extenders before applying a paste to them, struggling to putting them on as they got caught in her hair.

“Here, let me help you with that.” he said, beckoning her over again with a gentle wave.

Isabelle let out a sigh of relief. “You’re too kind” she said, walking back over to the counter and lowering her head to the glass table between the two and placing her personal effects on the table. “Decades later, this stuff’s still a pain in the ass to put on alone”.

“Language, dear”. He said, before gently smoothing out the glue application of the fake ears. He then took out some make-up out of Isabelle’s pouch and blended various colours, making Isabelle’s ears look as natural as possible. She gave him an appreciative smile, before walking back to the mirror.

He looked to her tattered leather clothing, before letting out a grunt. “I’m assuming you’re not here for me to critique your... Unorthodox choice in ‘fine’ leather.” he said with a smirk, “But honestly, your father would be disappointed to see you in that”. Isabelle looked down at her clothing, realizing that her combat attire had taken quite a beating from her last few excursions. “Tell me something my father wouldn’t be disappointed in me about”. She said, going back to applying her make-up, covering her dozens of freckles, and enchanting a few age wrinkles away.

Huxley smirked. “You probably don’t need me to reiterate this every time you come here, but you know how much he loves you”. He disappointingly exhaled. “Perhaps... One day, he’ll find a way out of the Prison of Quel’Thalas. I’d like to spend time with the two of you again. Perhaps the four of us? Dinner with my husband, you and your father?”.

Isabelle sighed. “I couldn’t say. You know how things are these days”. She turned her head to the left then the right to see if there were any inconsistencies before reaching out to her out many, many pins and ties on the counter. She reached down, struggling to bun up her hair. Huxley laughed. “You really need a haircut, my dear. How many decades has that grown for?”  

Isabelle paused, before raising her hand to count. “About... four or five, now? I’m losing count”.

---

Almost thirty minutes had passed. Huxley had finished his order and aided a few other customers that walked into the room, some observing the Blood Elf in the corner fiddling with her hair before heading out. He tapped his long nails on the counter, still observing Isabelle’s handiwork, as she slowly turned her hair that went to the floor turn into a massive bun that held up through strong winds and the power of gravity. She shook her head, testing the strength of her hair before checking for any inconsistencies with her make-up and magic. Finishing up, she placed whatever hooks, clips, ribbons and hair ties back into her purse before walking back to Huxley’s desk.

Within her purse, she pulled out her order paper, along with the contact box Huxley had given her along with a cheque book. She quickly wrote one up and slid it across the table. Huxley observed it with the light of a nearby scented candle, before sliding it in a binder with various other customer cheques. He pulled up a receipt and handed it to Isabelle.

“I must say, Isabelle. With... Everything that went on with your family, I’m surprised you have the gold to buy all this. I’m impressed at how quickly you’ve been re-amassing your army to rebuild your family’s glory”.

Isabelle held in a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, cracking one of her knuckles, then exhaling. She eyed her order of guns and ammunition before looking to a very eager Huxley.

“Skyline rules, Huxley. You’re not allowed to pick sides or favorites” she said, with a wink.  

“Of course, my dear! I remain neutral to the end. But, how can I not root for the daughter of my old comrade in arms?” he said with enthusiasm before walking out from behind the counter before Isabelle. Standing at a near seven feet, he towered over Isabelle. He widely opened his long broad arms for a hug. “If I may?” he asked.

“Aww, Huxley!” she said, with a bright smile. She leapt to him, giving him a tight hug.  

After letting go, he placed a hand on her shoulder, before giving a quick look at her make-up. “Impeccable, as always. But...For what it’s worth, dear. The world’s becoming a much more open place than before. Eventually, you may not need to wear this guise anymore”.

Isabelle nodded. “One day. I hope it comes soon. But for now, you can never be too careful!”. She said, picked up her purse and giving Huxley a quick peck on the cheek, and heading out the door.

Huxley put up his hand. “Wait, Isabelle! What do I do with all these guns and bullets?!”

Isabelle poked her head back into the room one last time with a wink. “Ship it SPECIFICALLY in a massive crate labelled ‘Tessa’s Stuff' and leave it near the entrance of Tol Barad’s Blackbird Brewery.

“Wait, who’s Tessa? And- Oh never mind.” Huxley rolled his eyes and shook his head, before shooing her off with a smile.

He walked around the counter and sat back down. He reached for his tea, only to realize it was empty. A bit disgruntled, he moved the cup off the counter before putting his boots up and pulling out an old ‘family’ photo of himself along with his thief-in-arms Viktor, a much younger Isabelle, his husband, and various others who were killed during the purging of the Rochefort Estate, both traitors and allies to the cause.

He teared up a bit.

Just...what are you up to, Isabelle?

[marinalisbon]

Marina didn’t get drunk because she never quite saw the appeal in it, and she didn’t feel sorry for herself because she didn’t see it as productive but Tessa had sent Marina sort of spiraling and in times like these she figured that was the point of friends, of which Marina now had two so drinks with Brodie and Chuck it was and drinks she had; about five to be exact, “Is it a deal breaker to hate your boyfriend’s sibling? If so I’m gonna be 2008 Beyonce’ sooner or later- single lady. Who do you guys hate?Lay it on me, but Chuck you lay it on me while getting me another one of these.” She told him as she sat at a table in Rosewood academy of all places, which she didn’t even go.

@brodiebalcoin​ @chuck-daniels​

[owlface28]

The characters of the Shadowhunter Chronicles souls

So Kyle and I never sleep. And in our late night/ ass o’clock in the morning talks the subject of Will’s mauve soul came up God only knows how. So we decided for some reason to come up with the soul colors of every other character we could think of that is a part of the Shadowhunter Chronicles. Unfortunately, this does not include the characters of Tales of the Shadowhunter Academy, Ghosts of the Shadow Market, or The Eldest Curses as Kyle has not read TFSA or GTSM and the characters in TEC we do not know well enough to get impressions off of. Sorry if I forgot anyone it was not intentional or Kyle and I did not get a good enough impression off of them to include in this. I hope y’all enjoy and Kyle would like to say that they are off to OD on creatine. 

The Infernal Devices 

Will Herondale - Mauve

Jem Carstairs - Silver

Tessa Grey - Violet

Sophie Collins/Ashdown - Sky Blue

Gideon Lightwood - Gunmetal

Gabriel Lightwood - Chartreuse

Cecily Herondale - Vermillion 

Charlotte Fairchild - Lemon Yellow

Henry Branwell - Lemon Yellow

Jessamine Lovelace - Magenta

Thomas Tanner - Steel Grey

Cyril Tanner - Drab

Bridget Daly - Golden Brown

Agatha - Ochre

Woosley Scott - Carnelian

Camile Belcourt - Maroon

The Silent Brothers - Parchment 

The Mortal Instruments

Jace Herondale - Avocado

Clary Fairchild - Royal Blue

Simon Lewis/Lovelace - Amber

Isabelle Lightwood - Oxblood

Alec Lightwood-Bane - Magnus’s Eyes

Magnus Lightwood-Bane - Alec’s Eyes

Jocelyn Fray - Cerulean

Luke Garroway - Duke Blue

Maryse Lightwood - Apricot

Robert Lightwood - Tuscan Brown

Raphael Santiago - Bronze

Lily Chen - Lava Red

Jordan Kyle - Cornflower

Maia Roberts - Lilac 

Catarina Loss - Periwinkle

Ragnor Fell - Apple Green

The Dark Artifices 

Julian Blackthorn - Emma’s Hair

Emma Carstairs - Rosewood

Christina Rosales - Rose Red

Mark Blackthorn - Saffron

Kerian Kingson - Pine Tree Green

Dru Blackthorn - Russian Violet

Ty Blackthorn - Oxford Blue

Kit Rook/Herondale - Oxford Blue

Livvy Blackthorn - Oxford Blue

Jaime Rosales - Cadet Grey

Deigo Rosales - Barn Red

Diana Wrayburn - Indigo

Gwyn ap Nudd - Midnight Blue

Tavvy Blackthorn - Robin’s Egg Blue

Helen Blackthorn - Peach

Aline Penhallow - Peach

Max Lightwood-Bane - Azure

Rafael Lightwood-Bane - Scarlet

(The weird colors are because William  Owen Herondale had to set a precedent with a weird-ass color blame him)

I used Wikipedia for the colors they have really long lists of colors and I used that if you want a reference.

I hope y’all enjoy the product of my fucked up sleep schedule and our first original post. These aren’t in any particular order. Have a great New Year! 

[tessa-lisbon]

It had been futile, they’d all thought, driving around in the middle of the night with no idea where they were going or what they were looking for. Nevertheless Tessa was never one to lose hope, even in the most miraculous of outcomes. They were like magnets, the Lisbons, they would find each other. They always did. While they hadn’t found the location of the challenge in time to stop it, or whatever desperate idea they’d half baked in their urgency, they’d ended up on the outskirts of town when Nova’s feed had cut out. It was over, but it was also just beginning. 

Bridget had slowed the car when they’d seen two figures stumble across the street ahead, huddled together and likely fellow contenders in the game, but Tessa urged her on. At least it narrowed down the scope of their search; they must have come from the woods. That in itself wasn’t an answer though, the woods that surrounded Rosewood were vast, deep, unforgiving to those who entered unprepared. They wouldn’t be the first to enter and never return, yet Tessa hadn’t cared. She was scared, but most of all she was angry. What sins had they committed that had left them with such deep targets etched into their souls? How long were they destined to atone?

“Marina! Nova!” It felt blasphemous to shatter the silence of the night, that perhaps she was tempting something to find her too, but Tessa didn’t care. If anything she dared something to try her at that point– a lack of a sense of self preservation perhaps, but she wouldn’t say she’d been born with much of one to start with.

@marinalisbon​