#thomas lightwood fanfic

[vwritesaus]

It is no secret to anyone who knows him that Alastair Carstairs is an exceptional cook. Armed with the knowledge passed down from his mother and Risa, he felt it was his duty to keep the Persian traditions alive in their family, and the only way he felt comfortable doing it was through cooking. It was his escape when the piano keys felt slimy and sticky under his fingertips, and when his thumb and index fingers slowly became more and more smudged with ink stains from the mundane newspapers. Cordelia was the taste tester every time, no matter how burnt or salty or under seasoned his food was. He could trust her to give him an honest critique—and she always did, without preamble.       ‘Dadash, did you empty the entire Dead Sea into this? My tongue is burning.’       ‘Oh, this is better than last time! Just needs more chilli, it’s a bit on the mild side.’       ‘Alastair, this is extremely chewy. It’s meant to be softer, no?’       Though he would roll his eyes and pretend to be offended by every one of his sister’s comments, Alastair was glad for it all. It was their little pocket of solidarity in an otherwise distant relationship. Alastair’s own doing, of course, but he felt it necessary at the time.       He was four years old when he first showed an interest, according to Sona. By eleven, Alastair was comfortable enough to cook a couple of simple dishes without any help. By fifteen, he was a self-proclaimed master. Yes, he made mistakes sometimes—as all good cooks do—but he knew his way around a kitchen, just as Cordelia knew her way around Cortana. Naturally it was something he kept to himself: if he had disclosed to any of the boys who bullied him at the Shadowhunter Academy that he, a male, loved and knew how to cook, and was taught how to by the women in his life, it would have given them yet another few reasons to belittle and assault him.       Being his father’s son and a boy with darker skin was already too many reasons. So Alastair kept his passion quiet, known only to his mother, his sister, and Risa. He’s sure Elias never knew, for if he had, Alastair is certain he would have put a stop to it somehow. All it took was one remark to have Alastair give up and push it down. His love for piano and singing, for instance.       But Alastair and Cordelia made it a regular occurrence to take over the kitchen and get under Risa’s feet, in her words. He cherishes those memories, where flour would coat the front of his waistcoat and parts of Cordelia’s hair, and the fragrant aroma of cinnamon, cardamom and clove would fill the entire room alongside their laughter. They were just some of the good things he held onto whilst at the Academy.       But the Academy days are no more, and Elias’s domineering presence has fizzled out through fire and ash. Alastair is free to do whatever he wants to do and be whoever he wants to be, and cooking is only a part of it.

continue reading on ao3

~

well well, it has been a long time, hasn't it??

but here i am, back for good hopefully!! and with a wee fic i wrote for my bestest girl @drunkonimagination for her birthday back in july ✨ it's based on one of our first interactions together before we hit the dms and the hill i will die on that is alastair carstairs is great at cooking but a terrible baker. only just got around it posting it jkahdjasd. hope you all enjoy it, and i'll be back with some more fics soon!!

also pls ignore the title, it's the best thing i could come up with :')

~

tagging people who might be interested: @edwinspaynes @purplebass @angeldaisies @faithfromanewperspective @tessherongraystairs @celias

let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!

[starrieshq]

Home [Thomastair ft. Jordelia]

here is my long-procrastinated Thomastair fic! It's a bit short, but dw! I have plans to write more fics in the future! (I take requests 😁)

Tag: @edwinspaynes

Thomas woke up to the sound of groaning coming from the other side of the bed.

Alastair rolled closer to him, his head resting next to Thomas’s face, his dark hair tickling his nose.

Thomas chuckled. Seeing him like this, with his guard down and happier than he had ever been before, was always his favorite part of the day.

“Good morning.” He said, rolling over.

Alastair scoffed sleepily. “A morning is never good.”

Thomas wrapped his arms around him and nestled his face into his shoulder. “With you, it is.”

His face reddened. “Damn you, Lightwood.”

They laid like this for some time, Thomas’s arms around Alastair, both drifting in and out of sleep, basking in the comforting warmth of each other. Eventually, though, they both heard crying, and had to get up.

He smiled as he got out of bed and headed to the washroom. As he freshened up, he could hear Zachary Arash from his nursery, having just woken up from his slumber and extremely displeased. Sona was at a Clave meeting in Idris and had left him in Thomas and Alastair’s care.

Alastair was an excellent brother. Due to Elias’s parenting, he had taken it upon himself to ensure that Zachary would never have to experience such trauma. Already, he was learning to walk, and had even said his first word (mama). Sona was delighted, and thus surrendered him to their care. Besides, Cordelia and James would have their own child soon. It’s not like there was anyone else fit for the job.

Matthew was on his travel year, headed to Paris, then London, then Reykjavík. James would be a father soon, and it took everything in Thomas to not think about where Christopher could have been.

He headed to the kitchen, where Alastair was preparing breakfast.

“Hello, Zachary.” He cooed, while Alastair rolled his eyes.

They sat down at the table, Thomas buttering a roll, Alastair sipping coffee, and Zachary fussing quietly.

“I never understood how you can tolerate that.” Thomas motioned towards his cup of coffee. “It’s awful.”

Alastair disagreed. “It’s an acquired taste,” He said. “It’s fine.”

Thomas shook his head as Zachary fussed. Alastair placed him in his lap and began calming the toddler, attempting to soothe him.

“Shall we head to Cordelia’s place after this?” Asked Alastair. “She’s due at any moment, and it’d be great to talk to her and James before they have their daughter.”

Thomas smiled. “Zachary would be delighted to have a new friend.”

After breakfast, they commuted to Curzon Street by carriage, Zachary waving out the window and babbling the entire trip there. Alastair held him with a parentlike yet childish manner, and Thomas felt like his heart would explode every time he looked at him.

“Zachary,” He remarked, hoisting him up, “As much as the citizens love to see you greet them with morning joy, my arms are screaming in pain in a way that is neither loving nor joyous.”

Finally, they rolled to a stop at Curzon Street.

Before they could knock, a very pregnant Cordelia opened the door, her hand helping support her belly.

“Layla,” Alastair said. “You look awfully big.”

She gasped playfully. “Alastair, you know that you’re not supposed to say that to a woman.”

James appeared behind her, an arm wrapping around her waist and resting lightly on her stomach.

“Thomas and Alastair,” He said, “What excellent timing. My parents left not an hour ago.” James peered curiously at them. “What brings you here?”

“Just thought we’d drop by before all of your time is riddled with screaming and crying.” Thomas replied, motioning to Cordelia.

She smiled, then winced as her other hand flew to her belly. “She’s a fighter.”

Cordelia continued to smile, however Thomas noted the slight grimace peeking through. She was extremely pregnant, and as she ushered them into the house, he noticed that her feet were swollen.

“Cordelia,” He said. “Should you be walking?”

James sighed. “I told her that she should be in bed, but she won’t listen to me.”

“Nonsense.” Cordelia said. “I can handle myself. I’m perfectly capable-”

She let out a small gasp and squeezed her eyes shut.

Alastair coughed pointedly. “You were saying?”

James ushered her to the sitting room, where she plopped down in an armchair. James took a seat on the couch next to her, leaving Thomas and Alastair to squeeze onto a loveseat. Zachary, the little traitor, settled in next to his uncle James, causing Alastair to disappointedly sigh. Out of habit, Thomas put his arm around him as Cordelia sighed in relief.

“My feet are killing me.” She complained.

“She’s due any moment now, according to Risa.” James said.

Alastair relaxed in Thomas’s grasp and subconsciously leaned his head on his shoulder. “I can imagine.”

Thomas lightly hit him. Alastair scoffed as he settled in closer to him.

“Rude.”

After their visit, they decided to head back to their flat. Zachary was already asleep, and Thomas and Alastair decided to retire to bed early.

They laid awake in bed, Alastair’s head on Thomas’s chest, rising and falling with every breath. A strand of his dark hair tickled his chin, and Thomas batted it away.

After all these years in the dark, all those days of longing and loneliness, the days of yearning and despair, this was it.

This was home.

[4uru]

Shameless smut song fic (Movement by Hozier) ft. Bottom Thomas Lightwood.

Taglist: @chaosandtwo (thank you for beta-ing this mess) @thevagabondexpress @tleeaves @faithfromanewperspective @lesbocrocker @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @inquisitor-of-the-circle @quantummeep @caterpillarinacave @alastaircarstairsismybff (I never tagged U but BC it's Alastair related thkught I might as well)

(please notify me if you don't want to be tagged in smut fic posts, I'm I'm tagging the usual mutuals. But I know this is not everybody's cup of tea)

[reality-exodus]

The Last Hours of a Herondale

Ch2 sparkles

Words:2k

Pairing: Matthew Fairchild x Fem!Herondale

I walked out on a fast pace without turning back or waiting for my brother's Parabatai. I was wearing my own coat now as I strolled down the alley to get on the bridge and find my way to the institute.

"He just worries you know" I heard, I could see Matthew walking behind me with the side of my eye, he was still holding his extravagant coat in hand. "And can you please stop rushing on my account I will get my alcohol, therefore I wish this was more scenic" Matthew joked. I admired the way he used his vocabulary always, sobber or not. I listened to his wish, my arms crossed across my torso, I was making this gesture to highlight my fury, although if I am being frank I was shivering to the freezing temperature of London.

"Didn't sincerely seemed like he was concerned about me, more like he did not have the mood to hear our father whine about his daughter to be wandering alone helpless in the streets of this horrific city, As if I am a damsel in distress." I barked, my nerves were still tense, I was too angry to concentrate on anything.

Matthew didn't reply immediately, he touched my shoulders carefully to place his coat on me, he observed my being cold. I tensed and reflexively turned to face him, shocked, not so much because of his gesture but with the fact that I felt as if I would see something. I always looked chill with my charisma therefore I was freaking out most of the time internally. "Do not worry, I know. It is not nice to watch another broken past." He assured me and I exhaled relieved lightly and placed my arms on the sleeves while he tied the belt around my waist gently.

"Its never the past that gets me unnerved. Even though I think I witness the worse of you every time you drink alcohol." I spoke and looked at him. I rarely seen his eyes so upclose. They were green, darker as if the reasons that got him drunk every day and night had shaded his eyes too.

"And what unnerves you?" He asked me. Despite the instability of his voice that seemed so familiar since he was more drunk than sober.

"When I see the future, I have only seen it a few times. Three to be honest." I spoke and looked elsewhere, I was scared to look for his comment or his eye contact, these were things I avoided speaking of, barely mentioned them to my parents. "I will get going it gets colder" I excused myself, expecting him into offering to escort me.

"I was leaving anyway, my beautiful bottle is right down this way." Matthew spoke and walked away from me. I smiled and started walking down the bridge.

The way there was peaceful and calming, I was gazing at the cloudy sky trying to make out at least a small, tiny star but the rain that started a few minutes ago was getting stronger. It felt nice, the droplets on the coat and on my hair made me colder but the feeling was refreshing as the wind blew as well. I placed my hand to the bottom of my chaotic braided bun and set it loose into the two braids and I started loosing them as well.

I was so peaceful and calm. Forgot about my fight with James, the vision of Polly, the demon splatter and the times I saw James disappear and Matthew almost lose his life. I opened the door and walked in unknown of the mess I was in. I hoped I wouldn't meet anyone. I only went inside Lucie's room, I hoped she would be awake. I knocked the door.

"Come in" her sweet voice sounded and poked my head in. "What happened to you? Where is James?" she asked, her voice sketched with concern as well as her expression, she stood up from her desk and approached me. We were the same height even though she was two years younger than me. Her hand got my wrist and pulled me inside her room. "If mama and papa see you, you'll scare them to death." She spoke.

"Nothing happened, we only killed a demon." I replied and threw my boots next to the door and walked to her mirror to witness myself the big deal. I, indeed looked horrible, my light brown hair were wet and filled with mud that made them stick together and my face had dirt as the rain spilled the light make up I wore. "James made it explode." I sighed.

"And why are you wearing Math's clothes?" she asked me. "You are shaking..." she noticed.

I smiled subconsciously as I took off the coat and let it fall on the ground. "He accompanied me up to a point on my way home and I was cold." I explained briefly as I started taking off the heavy and wet equipment. "Could I use your bathroom? I do not feel comfortable being on my own." I added with false hopes that she would not start the curiosity drill of questions.

"Why? What happened?" Lucie asked me as she assisted me, with great care to not trigger any seizure, to take off the rest of the equipment until I was with the underskirt.

"Nothing in particular." I spoke as I took her comb and started untangling the mass in my head trying to remove as much of mud as possible. I felt my sister's gaze upon my back and let out a sigh. She probably was the only person I was unable to keep secrets from. I was a pretty cold person therefore Lucie can read me, even though my pages are always blank. "Alright, I fought with James before I left. I was certainly right with my arguments. Perhaps, I was a bit harsh." I explained.

"Oh do not even worry, he won't remember it in the morning..." Lucie smiled lightly. "This is why you came here. To cover for him, so mom and dad won't know you returned alone?" her smile got bigger. She is such a sweet angel. When me and James fight she is more sad than we are. 'You are twins, you can't talk to each other like that, you are supposed to be two of a whole' she usually quotes and tries to stop our conflict which most of the time plays out into a best sarcastic comeback battle as we actually forgot what we fought about.

"You really think so?" I asked lightly and then walked into her bathroom as I started washing the mud from my face.

"Do you remember what you fought for?" asked Lucie and my smile disappeared lightly. "Well, since it is this serious, tell me about it." She encouraged me and I exhaled unwilling to so.

"Do not tell mama and papa... James started disappearing during the battle... It was a close call for me and Math, and especially for Math... After we killed it, we went at that stupid tavern they hang out... And I had a seizure with flashback. So we were kind of on edge both of us." I unriddle the events of the night as I filled the tub with water.

"I don't think you are worried that you spoke harsh to James. You are simply upset. Come on. Have your shower and I will get you some tea and then I can tell you about my book, so you take your mind off." Lucie giggled and I nodded with soft smile. I winked and nodded before she closed the door of the bathroom.

~

I came out of the tub and saw that my sister brought pajamas and underwear, freshly washed, they smelled vanilla and sandal wood. The clothes were mine. I wore them and walked out to the bed where I saw her laying with a book. "Feeling better?" she asked me and I nodded.

I climbed next to her on the bed and placed the book aside with a smile as she took her brush and removed the towel. Lucie began to brush my hair. I have curly and long hair, longer than hers, with the color of my father's while I had my mom's eyes, deep gray. The brush met a comb and she abruptly untangled it making me jump.

"I am careful, you know that" Lucie reassured me with a sweet smile, she knew I was anxious.

I didn't really felt when I fell asleep, I hugged Lucie's stuffed animal. Tomorrow would be a great day, the Carstairs would arrive. I was happy to see them, to see Daisy and Alastair again. I was probably the only one who found Alastair likeable but this didn't really matter, he didn't seem to care that much to converse with anyone. Us Herondales have a special place for the Carstairs family in our hearts. My father's parabatai was a Carstairs, uncle Jem became a silent brother under awful circumstances while he was on his death bed owing to a demons doings. I cannot imagine how my father was feeling back then, I do not have a parabatai like James has and like Lucie will soon have. I have a close relationship with Barbara and Anna Lightwood but none of them to a point to have such eternal and unbreakable bond.

Uncle Jem must be the only person I can talk to about the visions I see and not feel like a freak. The whole clave looks at me and my brother as if we are some kind of unexpressed danger against the Nephelim race. Even my mother and father are uncomfortable when we speak about it. Perhaps it is in my head. Uncle Jem always knows what to tell me to ease me and not make me feel... different from everyone else. Speaking of whom I had to summon him, I was obliged to report to him every single vision I had as well as the conditions it came under.

"Lina..." I heard in my sleep as I felt a soft shake. I turned around ignoring the voice and this is when the blanket was pulled violently from my figure. "Lina!"

"What!" I exclaimed disturbed and shot up.

"Get dressed we have to get breakfast the Carstairs will be here soon" Lucie spoke as she was literally jumping up and down on her mattress.

"Is James back?" I asked her.

"Yes he is." James replied and I turned my head to see our brother sitting in the arm chair on Lucies room, it was next to the pile of my dirty clothes.

"Oh Good morning" I greeted and sat up and leaned to the bedframe as I stared at him. The gash on his hand was fully healed and he looked well and rested.

"Oh Good morning to you too" He chimed therefore his expression was just like mine dead serious as we only stared at each other. I could sense Lucie darting her gaze between us.

"Now come on you two..." Lucie began when a ghost appeared in the middle of the room.

"Oh look at the two naughty Herondales following their father's footsteps once again. Stubborn as donkeys!" Jessamine floated in the room.

"Ah great, here were the commentary again." I spoke inside my teeth.

"Jealous much Lina? At least the ghost can form more ingenious sentences than you." James smiled at me. The revenge begun.

"At least the ghost has the intelligence to think before they speak nonsense." I smiled back, Lucie was saying we had the same facial features, even our teeth and expressional wrinkles were the same, everything except our eye-color. He had brown eyes, I had gray.

"At least the ghost has manners!" Jessamine whined at us. "Like father, they say..." she sighed and floated to the edge dramatically.

"Does she though?" James asked Jessamine and she turned her attention to him, her expression puzzled.

"You really do just barge in a room, that is really not lady like." I commented with a fake frown, my posture was suddenly fixed as I was remarking the good manners that my father always said were more important than anything else. She was the last Lovelace of her family name and now she was haunting my house.

"Uh Tessie really left your upbringing to Will didn't she?" Jessamine huffed in annoyance when my father opened the room.

"She indeed did, Jess. Aren't they adorably charming?" My father asked as he looked at us his eyes were smiling.

"So adorably charming that they get on my nerves almost as much as you do Herondale." Jessamine spoke up.

"Then I did a wonderful job." He smiled lightly and sat down on the bed next to me. "How did the hunt go? You must have returned late huh?" Will asked us. I could see his gaze searching for injuries or any sign that needed his attendance or an iratze.

"It went well actually. We found a Deumas demon" James spoke and then my father looked at me.

"And? What happened?" Will asked us, I could sense his enthusiasm.

"Well at first I was up the building watching Matthew and James. And they struggled a bit, so I thought I would step in." I smiled proudly and felt James' eyes on me.

"Yes, Lina stepped in and saved Math's ass..." James spoke and our mom stepped in.

"James! Language." She noticed and allowed him to keep going.

"She used the whip and injured it and lured it away from Math but then it cornered her and thankfully Thomas was there and assisted Lina." James continued and smiled at me.

"James recovered from the hit and he tried to kill it at first but then he had a gash on the hand during this attempt so me and Thomas kept it in line when my bright twin came slashed it and filled us with ichor and blood." I finished the story.

"And then we stayed at Devil's Tavern for a drink." James spoke up and looked at me.

"Or eight?" I lied with a giggle.

"Eight? Linette!" My mother exclaimed and made a move to touch my forehead and I pulled myself from the way.

"I am fine mom, I do not have temperature or something. I was only a bit dizzy and Luce offered to brew some lemon balm with anice to sooth my stomach." I exclaimed. They knew I was uncomfortable with physical contact.

"I was with her as well. And so were the boys its really not big deal, or the first time it happens" James tried to cover for me but he earned an almost infuriated gaze from our father.

"Well it isn't that bad..." Lucie intervened.

"Well I was celebrating the demon victory. And then I got entinced by the drunks around me?" I smiled and my father shook his head. "I know I am a girl and I shouldn't- ." I started off and then saw my parents exchange a look.

"Lina... It is not that. Honestly I couldn't care less what each one of those pretentious Clave members has to say about me, my wife, my children or my parabatai. Both me and your mother have been through the gossiping and it doesn't real phase us, it never did. We just want you to be safe." My father spoke and carefully took my hand I exhaled as I realized I was still wearing gloves.

"I don't see you preaching my twin about these. But anyway, I see your points and your concerns." I spoke and gave him a light smile and removed my hand. If you'll excuse me. I must get prepared for breakfast." I excused myself to go to my room. I didn't know how I felt and suddenly I wasn't in the mood of socializing either. Even if it was with the Carstairs.

[esfandiyar-jahanshah]

Alastair Carstairs Moodboard

Snippet from my unwritten story. :

"Because I will ruin you. I will destroy your life, your future. For fucks sake, Tom, you have it all laid out perfectly and I will set a torch to all that!!

All your friends and your family will hate me. Can you live with that? My family would never accept us. Can you live with that?? They won't accept me, your parents James, Mathew, and Kit. By the Angels, Tom I'm already a fucking menace in their eyes. They will not accept us.

What will you do then? Leave me? Leave them for me?! You will start to resent me, Thomas, for creating a rift. No... do not deny it. No, you will. Eventually, you will. Best case scenario, you wake up one day and realise I'm not enough, that you don't have any reasons to love me, and you’ll leave, and decide that I'm not worth all this. You would be right, I'm not. Or, you will die, resenting me till last breath. Your "true" love will turn to hate, Thomas.

And I'm done with people leaving, no matter how hard I try. No matter how much I beg, they leave. They always do, and there's nothing I can do to stop them."

[livingformyself]

So yeah everyone I'm not ready to leave tlh era... sooo any talented writer out there please add me to your taglist.... i repeat PLEASEEE

[faithfromanewperspective]

i'm on my way to wonderland

guys guys guys it's CHRISTOPHER!!!! so so keen to share this <3 what's written in here is only a snippet of the newly posted chapter. (click link to read all of it) merry thieves time let's goooo

Contrary to what Lucie had thought, it had taken Christopher a while to reach the realm of the dead (at least, that’s what he was calling it). He had disappeared for a while, during which time, he knew, his body had gone to Idris without him and his parents must’ve been very upset. Then he felt himself drawn to London, as if all the force of the universe was pulling him, whispering that something incredible was going to happen there. For Christopher, it was where those he had loved in his life were. He hadn’t known much at the time, had faded in and out, been everywhere and nowhere at once. For a short moment he was able to visit Grace and help her see what she was capable of. Ideas buzzed around him: ‘unfinished business’ and all the events and interactions and connections of his life playing in front of him like scattered pieces of film. It was as if something bigger than him was sorting and prioritising his memories: but they weren’t just his memories, were they? Sometimes he was looking at himself from the outside, through the eyes of those who he loved. He felt strangely distant from what was happening in front of him: London, when he was seeing it, or his own life. But he felt things that he wasn’t sure were his: the glow of pride when he had worked on the demon poison antidote and on fire messages. When he had checked on James; when he had visited Grace. He thought he would feel a disappointment for the time he had stolen lemon tarts because he was so hungry that he almost collapsed after working in the lab day and night without eating (James and Matthew had created a schedule to feed him after that event, to ensure it wouldn’t happen again), or the time he had blown up the Academy by accident. But he—or whoever’s feelings he was taking on—felt only compassion.

It was a nice change from the usual way he would freeze in guilt and shame every time he said something that came out differently to how he wanted and someone felt hurt as a result. But even his memories of that were distant: he could view everything as if it were happening to someone who were not him, someone he knew would be taken care of—not someone whose future as a scientist and a Shadowhunter were unclear, and now cut short. Throughout his life, he had felt a need to prove himself that his friends and family members would still as they assured him he was more than enough as he was. He had an acute awareness, growing as he grew up and came to understand the world, of how he wasn’t like most people, and might do things differently than they expected. But now, there was this force, a force so big and yet so gentle, saying he was exactly what he needed to be. Not that it really spoke in words, more just propagated the belief in his head, as if it were a magical plant.

Christopher was slowly coming to the realisation that he had done something well. It was not the thought he would have chosen for himself, but it kept sticking like a scientific hypothesis that seemed so right it simply had to be tested. But unlike testing a scientific hypothesis, when an excitement would overcome him and keep him buzzed and curious for days, he felt at peace. As if he didn’t need to be constantly finding out new things to keep him going anymore. Just like he didn’t need to eat anymore, either.

He finally reached the realm of the dead, between one moment and the next: seeing his friends win the battle for London and safely return to the Institute—and then he was somewhere he’d only seen glimpses of ever since he died.

The first familiar face Christopher saw was Filomena Di Angelo. He remembered what he felt when she had died: similar to when Jesse had died when he was a child. A thought that went something like, I did not know this person well, but I would have liked to, and now I will never get the chance. It was ironic now: he had gotten to know Jesse a bit better while both of them were alive, and it seemed he might get to spend time with Filomena now.

If they still felt the kinds of mortal shock and fear they would have when they were alive, he imagined she would be shocked to see him here. To see that he was dead too. Instead, she just looked scared, and he felt a wave of compassion for the slightly older girl, who he’d thought of as so strong and independent, and then realised she was also interested in hearing about things people—even James and Matthew and Thomas sometimes—might find boring. Her interest was genuine, a bit like Grace’s, but her ideas were wilder, a bit like the ones Matthew used to have before he grew tired and easily bored and withdrawn.

“Christopher Lightwood,” she said, and her voice was barely more than a whisper. “How long have you been here?”

“I just got here,” he said, then noticed the way her spirit seemed—afraid? Could they be afraid here? He certainly didn’t feel any fear, didn’t feel the usual nerves he would at talking to people who weren’t his friends or family. Maybe Filomena was a friend. So he asked, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know what happened,” she said, and she sounded and looked a lot like James had that day he told them all about what Tatiana had done through Grace. “I was in that place, that horrible place, with the others, and they came, the girls, the one who got married and wields Cortana, and her husband’s sister and—”

Cordelia and Lucie. But he saw them in London, they were okay. What others, he wanted to ask, but then he looked around, and saw them. Elias Carstairs, who he knew had treated Alastair poorly and asked James for money, scowling, also looking scared. Lilian Highsmith, who was known as a kind elder in the Clave but Christopher had always seen in her eyes that she thought his scientific endeavours were a silly childish thing and the wish that he would grow up to be a normal Shadowhunter. He didn’t see that now. Amos Gladstone, who had been old enough to be his grandfather, but he always felt a connection to because he was absentminded and often seemed incompetent—but actually had a brilliant mind which Christopher realised the once or twice he had talked to him. And Basil Pounceby, who Christopher might have hated for the way he raised Augustus Pounceby and his siblings to be cruel, parroting off the cruel beliefs of their father while Eunice would watch, looking torn. Christopher had often wondered if they were cruel to her too. But Basil didn’t look intimidating anymore, and Christopher only felt a dull sorrow for all that man had done.

The ground suddenly shook underneath them, and the sky was split with a guttural scream. It sounded inhuman, and sounded not like someone hurting, but someone who had nothing human to hurt and had been stopped from hurting other people. Christopher had an idea who it could be.

Then Christopher was suddenly alone, without the others that Belial had killed, and surrounded by voices. Voices of people he knew: people thanking him, people saying how kind he was, people saying they wished they could have his confidence to be himself and help people in all the ways he was best at. People wishing their children could grow up clever and creative and also warriors, but mostly kind. Some of these voices he didn’t recognise, and some spoke in accents he hadn’t heard before. Some were Downworlders he knew from the Shadow Market, saying he was alright for a Shadowhunter, more than alright, he had given them hope about the new generation of Shadowhunters being better than any had before—he was the only one they had met who made an effort not to intimidate, and treated them as equals. That was a compliment indeed. And Professor Fell—he thought he recognised Ragnor’s voice, saying that he was a good boy if he only would learn to control his hazardous scientific activities. Christopher wondered if some of these were things people had thought, not said out loud: he could never imagine Professor Fell praising him. Not when the warlock didn’t even try to hide his fear and disgust whenever Christopher walked into the room. Not when, while he was alive, those memories stuck to him whenever he wasn’t distracted by a new discovery, morphing into worries: what if he never did get the chance to do good with his work? What if instead of helping people, he accidentally hurt them through a careless mistake? The fears he'd had since a child felt more distant now, as if he’d left them far behind.

And then he was shown his friends. Thomas and Alastair, taking care of Cordelia’s baby brother. Grace and Henry, in the laboratory. Anna, Alexander, his parents and Ari, enjoying the winter sun in the garden of the Herondales’ manor house in Idris where he never went, but assumedly they were staying there as the Lightwoods’ properties had all been confiscated due to Benedict’s disgrace. James and Matthew, following Will and Tessa around the Institute and looking worried, but occasionally laughing at a joke Will made or at something Oscar did. Jesse watching as Lucie and Cordelia trained. Eugenia doing some sort of paperwork with Sophie and Gideon, undoubtedly ruining it if she thought it was boring. Eugenia never was very patient—and it had once, a very long time ago, made Christopher feel anxious around her, as if he might be teased for being so different to his elder cousin. Now he realised they weren’t so different after all—each had things they were interested in, and anything counterproductive to their goals was a waste of time. He felt a wave of compassion for them. They were all so very brave, going on in London, and in the Clave after all Belial had done to the Silent City as well. Keeping going after all they had lost.

And then he was seeing something else: his grandparents on his mother’s side, who he had only met a handful of times. A child he somehow knew to be the sibling Matthew lost when Charlotte got sick. His aunt Ella who he had never met—somehow he knew who she was, and she stared straight at him with a look of recognition. A man who somehow reminded him of Thomas, though the features reminded him of someone—an old friend of his parents perhaps?—that he hadn’t seen in years. A woman he somehow knew to be his grandmother, Barbara Lightwood, nee Pangborn. And Barbara and Oliver who he knew: with them was a child. (A child?!? Suddenly the reason Barbara had died of demon poison made perfect sense. But then again, Christopher had also died of demon poison, and he had not been with child.)

Filomena walked into the room: she was alone, and it was clear she knew no one there. Christopher started towards her, he could introduce her to his family, they would be kind to his friend—

And then the scene changed again: there was Tatiana, there was his grandfather Benedict he recognised from his father’s descriptions. It seemed that even after becoming a demon, he still had a soul that had passed on. Christopher felt his veins—if the dead even had veins—buzzing with curiosity. There was Basil Pounceby, and as he watched Elias Carstairs walked through the room, and out through some invisible doorway. His interest piqued, he stared after Elias, and, as if he had gone through the doorway too, he saw him walking to join a man who looked like a younger version of him and an English version of Uncle Jem, and a Chinese woman who looked just like Jem.

Then he was seeing the Silent City, and there was a grey haze to it that told him he was seeing the past: so close in time to now that it was hardly any different to those who were dead—but Christopher had just come from the realm of the living. He had not adjusted yet. Grace was there, and Jem, and she looked exhausted, like she had—oh, this was after a round of questioning. They had interrogated her about her power and what she had done to James. She looked so lost that Christopher wanted to go to her, but he knew Jem would take care of her. And he knew that he had visited her, not even realising how much it must have meant to her—in contrast to this.

He felt like he was probably being faced with a choice, or maybe just being shown how things were for no particular reason. But it got him thinking, like he always did. He found himself asking why things were the way they were. Wondering why Tatiana had done what she did to Grace, to Jesse, to James, to him. Why there was a man who reminded him of Thomas, why Filomena didn’t seem to know anyone, and why Aunt Ella was looking straight at him. Should he go and meet her? Introduce Filomena? Should he meet Barbara and Oliver’s child? Matthew’s sibling? But what about Grace—she was his unfinished business—was she still? Christopher was full of questions, the way he liked best.

[sourlemons262]

Every Saint Has A Past, Every Sinner Has A Future

Credits to @lemoncielart for their gorgeous Matthew fan art that I silhouetted!

Read it on Ao3 or Wattpad | Spotify Playlist | Pinterest Board | Updates at least once a month

Matthew Fairchild has a problem. After 5 years of sobriety, he’s found himself in a place where he’s ready to have a real relationship and start a life. Unfortunately, as the only child who can pass on the family name, his mother is more than ready to set him up with every Shadowhunter woman in the London Enclave. Everything changes when he meets an American Shadowhunter whose talent might save a place he loves deeply and whose boisterous personality might ruin the years of walls he’s put up around his heart.

Post Chain of Thorns Matthew x OC based on the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Filled with drama, comedy, and slow burn romance xD.

Published Chapters:

Prologue: New York, 1904

Chapter 1: The Near Death of a Bachelor

Chapter 2: A Secondary Set

Chapter 3: Night at the Ruelle, Part I

Chapter 4: Night at the Ruelle, Part II

Chapter 5: The Aftermath

Chapter 6: Az Men Zitst in der Heym

Chapter 7: Fifty-Fifty

Chapter 8: Because You Left

Chapter 9: What’s In a Name?

Chapter 10: To Be Normal

Chapter 11: The New French Couple Down the Block

Chapter 12: A Peregrination of Comedy

Tag list: @soybean-official @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone @tess-is-reading @lemonalienlime @bankofwildflowers @justbrainrot @akisekurahara @fangirlfreak08 @daisymydaisycarstairs @luciehercndale @streettealee @koussevitzky @rinadragomir @faithfromanewperspective

[tleeaves]

Thank you @luciehercndale and also @faithfromanewperspective (I am pretty sure you also tagged me and I forgot to make my reply then) for tagging me 🥺 It means the world, honestly, since I don't update a lot nor write too many fics, yet I'm still remembered.

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

(All of the below are in The Last Hours fandom)

Wasting Beats In This Heart Of Mine 136,108 words. Work in progress. This fic is my most ambitious and it is a various x OC story (James Herondale, Cordelia Carstairs, and Matthew Fairchild). It's my own take on how multiple universes of the same characters work and what would happen if a time loop was created by trying to save someone who is meant to die. Basically, it's the fracturing of reality, the occasional dose of heavy existentialism and derealisation/depersonalisation, fixing of some canon complaints I had, but it all takes place during Chain of Iron. It's a re-write of an earlier and now deleted fanfic of mine called Chain of Lies. Oh, and there's romance. Everything kind of revolves around that, one way or another, even in some rather dangerous ways.

The Rain (It Rains Every Day) 7,912 words. Work in progress. This is a Beauty and the Beast AU but greatly inspired by the myth of Eros/Cupid and Psyche, as well as earlier versions of the Beauty and Beast story (the French version, as well as some others under different titles like East of the Sun, West of the Moon, which is basically Cupid and Psyche in a different font). It's got James Herondale x Cordelia Carstairs, Lucie Herondale x Grace Blackthorn, and Alastair Carstairs x Thomas Lightwood. The setting is 1900, Greece in an alternate universe where a whole bunch of the TLH cast immigrated to the country or live(d) in Bulgaria or Persia.

A Diamond On Your Pillow 1,978 words. Complete work. A crack-ship fic about Christopher Lightwood x Lara Croft because of a silly joke I had with @thevagabondexpress. I still maintain that it is the most genius of my works, even if I did not get around to writing out any of the backstory we talked about. Also, it's the strangest ship in the fandom corner right now and I am proud of that. The moment someone takes my title, I will be publishing a James Herondale x Alastair Carstairs fic and no one can stop me. Not even your mother. Heed my warning because after that it might be Peeta Mellark x Cordelia Carstairs AND I WILL DO IT.

Love, We Did Our Best 3,354 words. Work in progress. A Matthew Fairchild x pregnant OC fic. I came up with the idea after a weird dream I had about IVF, but anyway. It takes place in France (past) and Tortuga (current story), 1906. Matthew has been travelling the world and generally avoiding Shadowhunters until he gets to Tortuga and meets a Nephilim woman with her marks stripped in exile there. She is a widow expecting to give birth to her first child in somewhere over three months. It only has two chapters so far, but it's supposed to be a cute murder mystery (..."cute" as in there's romance, but also the murder mystery itself is not actually cute, it gets quite dark).

Pride and Prejudice 2,460 words. Work in progress. It is literally just a Thomastair Pride and Prejudice AU. It has one chapter. I intend to continue it one day, but I have to refer to the book often so it's on the backburner because I am too lazy to refer to the book to write and this AU requires it. I'll get around to it eventually. Probably.

I am tagging @griddle-cakes, @sourlemons262, @zoyalannister, and @all-this-panic-still-no-disco (mostly because I know you're also fanfic writers, 3/4 of which have written also for TLH. You absolutely don't have to do this though if you don't want to.)

[simplyclary]

Can't stop thinking about this fic titled "Unfinished". Read it earlier today and it still looms around my mind. Thank the angel it's not canon because angel help me if ever that comes. 😭😭

Forever broken. Forever haunted. 😭

To those curious, the title of the fic is "Unfinished" by grievingfortheliving on Ao3.

Read it to know why it broke me 😭

I'm now in need of happy fluff or smut. Might head over to reread "Cast Long Shadows" and "Every Exquisite Thing" 😅

[laylax13s]

Precious

chapter 2 : I Gotta Get Out Of Here

TW/CW: child @bus3, @lc0h0l @bus3, t0x!c relationship, emotional @buse

“Your hair is growin out again-” Elias said with floppy words, already slipping away mid-sentence, passing out. Alastair quickly grabbed his shirt and reached under his arm to stop him from falling to the ground.

They were behind a bar in Kensington, not so far from Cornwall Gardens. It was around midnight, taking Alastair two hours to find his father. A man passed by them, not even stopping for a minute to ask if everything is okay, Alastair glared at him. Not like he would let the stranger help though, since they had to hide it, keep it a secret from the world. It was not fair, he thought, but it was what it was.

He let go of Elias for a second to get a bucket of cold water from the bar. He then poured the water on the man, gathering all his self-control not to throw the bucket on him as well. He woke up all of a sudden, glaring at his son. They just glared at each other like that for a few seconds before Alastair said, “Stand up.”. Elias held his chin up high, still laying on the ground, unable to put his pride away even for a second. Alastair sighed and held his hand out for his father. The man seemed to be thinking about it for a second, but eventually let the boy help him up. The latter practically dragged him over the hidden alleys of Kensington so that no one would see them.

Once they arrived home, he helped Elias on to a couch, and left to the kitchen. There were some wine bottles there left, he didn’t know how Cordelia didn’t notice it.

When he finished, he checked once more if his father was sleeping, then went to his room. He didn’t rest though, he changed clothes and walked out into the cold night again.

------

Once he was at the Fairchild manor, he checked his pocket watch, it was 01:23. Charles should be here in any minute now. Just with that thought, the red-haired man appeared at the door, looking around, then settling his eyes on Alastair. The latter’s heart skipped a beat at that, but then he reminded himself he is not here to stand and stare so he gave a huge jump over the fence and landed stably on the other side. He straightened up and walked over to the entrance. Charles opened the door for him, quickly closing it after them. The silence surrounding them was uncomfortable, simply being here was uncomfortable for Alastair, he hated it when he came over to Charles and not the other way around.

The mentioned led him into the drawing room, as always. As soon as they were inside and Alastair took his coat off, Charles grabbed his collar to drag him closer and kissed him. Alastair opened his mouth and brought his hands up to pull Charles even closer, deepening the kiss. The latter started towards the couch, dragging the other along. Alastair laid down on it, pulling Charles on top of him and starting to unbutton his waistcoat, still not breaking the kiss.

When they finally broke away, neither of them had any clothing on.

“I love you,” Alastair murmured. Charles did not reply, instead kissed him again.

------

After a few hours (Charles didn’t even have to say it anymore), Alastair dressed up and left. It was still only 4 am, everyone still asleep, the moon high on the sky. After taking a deep breath, he was already on his way back to Cornwall Gardens.

When in his room, he finally could flop down on his bed and take a small rest. But even after about half an hour, sleep wouldn’t come to him. He groaned in frustration, and sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He decided it was best to change clothes and get ready for the new day.

He chose to wear black trousers with a white shirt and wine-red waistcoat, it will match perfectly with his mahogany-red coat. That was when he heard a knock on his door, again. Who might be awake in these hours?

He walked to the door to open it, with a frown. To his not such big surprise, Risa stood in front of it.

“Did you get home safely?” the woman asked in Farsi. He nodded,

“Yes, thank you for asking.” he answered in the same language. Risa nodded too,

“Good; I made you Adasi. It’s waiting for you downstairs.” she said and turned around to leave. Risa woke up every morning to check if Alastair was alright, she knew about his nightly “adventures”.

After having breakfast, it was time for daily patrol. He got assigned to Anna Lightwood, great, he thought and rolled his eyes.

Anna was twenty minutes late, not even apologizing. Typical conceited rich white child, he thought, just like Matthew Fairchild. They started walking, though when he confronted her, “You are twenty minutes late.” the only thing she said was,

“Only fashionable, of course.” Annoying little twit-

“So how are you and Fairchild, the elder one?” she said, completely out of the blue. Alastair was startled, and immediately stopped walking.

“Pardon?” he asked, acting as if nothing happened. Anna gave him a smile of success (in what though?),

“Do you mean “Pardon” as if you want me to repeat my question, or “Pardon” as if you are too startled that I confronted you that you don’t know what else to say?” asked, even though they both knew the answer to that question. Alastair glared at her,

“I mean it as if you wouldn’t know the meaning of privacy.” he hissed sharply. Anna hummed, shrugging, and continuing the walk. Alastair sucked in a breath and followed her.

“Reasonable,” she said, “Then again, I do have something to do with it since the younger Fairchild brother, is my best friend, of course.” Enough was enough. He stopped again, this time talking in a way harder and stronger voice.

“You and your little “circus” have nothing to do with me and my life, so stay out of it!” he ordered. Now Anna realized it was best if she didn’t try to get gossip out of him, or even try with small talk.

The day went away slowly, and boringly (as most times), but it did go away. Once the sun wasn’t visible anymore, he nodded to Anna as a farewell, and started his way home. No demons today, either. London was a boring city, with boring people, who had either scandalous lives or no life at all. There were two categories: The first one being the one full of idiotic children who thought they knew everything about life and thought everything was so easy and that they were the main characters in a book, the other category were the more mature ones who decided to sell their soles to politics and live in secret. For example, Charles. He was a promising man, with a seemingly perfect life, the only problem was he had a fake bride and he was secretly gay and had a secret lover who was also a man. For another example, Matthew. He was a little brainless inept child, who thought he can solve all the problem in the world by drinking away his money and wasting his life for love and other drugs while giving away all the opportunity of becoming something by being open about his sexuality. And these were brothers, ironic, isn’t it?

He didn’t even realize but he got home somehow. When walking inside, the first thing to do was check on his sister. That was when he realized, Layla wasn’t home.

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

end notes : I made this with @thelasthours-alastair

Taglist : @melanielocke @astriefer @life-through-the-eyes-of @all-for-the-fanfiction @thelasthours-alastair @lightstairs1902 @mariiaarranz @unpaididiot @punk-with-trauma @cityofthomastair5

[vwritesaus]

The deep red glow of fire is beautiful to look at. Most of the pyre has burnt away now, the foundations having collapsed into a blazing heap some minutes ago. The crash was tremendous, a cacophony of cracking logs and splintering timber as the structure fell into itself. It was enough to see a handful of the congregation move away and start to leave the funeral, the whites and reds of their mourning clothes stark against the billowing black cloud of smoke and ashes.       Not for Thomas and the other Lightwoods. Not for their close family and friends either. Gabriel and Cecily are approached by those leaving, politely offering their condolences and sympathies. Gabriel takes them in stride as best he can with his heart crushed on his sleeve for the world to see. Cecily stares stonily at the remains of her son’s pyre, clutching Sophie’s hands like a vice as every commiseration falls on deaf ears.       Flecks of black float up towards the clouds and settle on the frosty grass of the Fields. Thomas watches them, thinking how stark they would look should it start to snow: white snowflakes burning in the sky, swallowed by the mouth of a dark, foggy beast.       There is something oddly beguiling about it. As is the nature of Shadowhunter funerals themselves. The fallen rise to the heavens through raging flames and black clouds: phoenixes awaiting their return beyond the river’s banks.       It’s a whisper in the wind, sounding strangely like Will Herondale, but it rocks the world underneath Thomas’s feet.       Pulvis et umbra sumus.       We are but dust and shadows.

continue reading on ao3

~

prev

~

and we've made it to end!! finally... T^T

but it's a bittersweet ending, i think. i had a blast writing this fic and i hope you enjoyed reading it. i just hope you all like this final chapter

thanks for sticking around and for all the support, you guys are the best ; v ; i hope you're all taking care and see you in the next one!! ♡

~

tag list: @drunkonimagination @edwinspaynes @thomastaircompassrose @faithfromanewperspective

let me know if you'd like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!

[starrieshq]

My Top 5 Favorite TSC Ships

#1: Kit x Ty (The Wicked Powers)

#2: Thomas x Alastair (The Last Hours)

#3: Alec x Magnus (The Mortal Instruments)

#4: Simon x Isabelle (The Mortal Instruments)

#5: James x Cordelia (The Last Hours)

Emma x Julian is a close sixth.

[4uru]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood Characters: Alastair Carstairs, Thomas Lightwood Additional Tags: Fluff, Short One Shot, Random & Short, Boys Kissing, Grinding, Comfort No Hurt Summary:

Sleeping lover and Orange scarf.

[reality-exodus]

Th Last Hours of a Herondale

Ch. 6 What May the Future Hold

Pairing: Matthew Fairchild x Herondale reader Word count Warnings: use of alchohol and drugs, mntion of blood, violence and seizures, contains sexual scene and harassment (this applies for the whole story in general not this specific chapter only)

“Don’t worry, she bit her tongue or something” my father tried to assure the boys, my vision was clearing. I was obliged to stare up, I only saw Matthew’s scared expression upside down. It actually took me some time to recognize him.

“Math?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, I felt weak, I couldn’t turn my head to either side.

“Hey, hey you are alright.” He spoke as he moved my head to his lap.  My gaze met James’ and my father’s who pulled me in his arms. I tried to hug him but I felt I didn’t have the power to motion my arms around his figure.

“James, can you take her to her room? I have to help her change, and Will someone has to stay.” My mother spoke reason.

“I am okay” I spoke assuringly, only for my dad to hear. I felt his lips plant a kiss on my hair. “Alright” he agreed and I felt my body shifting. One hand under my knees and the other on my back. I placed my head on James’ shoulder.

“Gave us a scare Lin.” James commented and looked down at me as he was walking, I could feel his figure shake from shock.

“This is how I feel when you shadow up.” I whispered and smiled a him, I maintained my eyes closed. “I want Math to come as well, he shouldn’t be alone.” I assumed he stayed behind as I couldn’t see him.

“Who told you I wasn’t coming” I heard his voice and smiled immediately, as he walked a bit faster so I would see him.

“Set her down sweetie.” My mom spoke and I felt my brother kneel and locate me to the bed.

“Don’t leave.” I requested, I was looking at Math more than my brother.

“Who said we were? We will be right outside.” Math assured me and leaned kissing my hand before going out of the room with James so my mother would help me change into a sleepware.

“How are you feeling my love?” My mom asked me as she removed my shoes firstly and then my gloves.

“Tired… Dizzy.” I explained and held on her to sit up so she can untangle the strings on the back of my dress. She didn’t speak again as she helped me into a more comfortable dress. I laid back down as she sat next to me and with a napkin she begun removing my makeup.

“Dear, do you remember what you saw?” My mom asked me and my eyes immediately shone, I could feel the tears.

“I saw aunt Sophie crying, she was grieving… it was Barbara… I- I can hear her screams, the sorrow… I get dysphoric and—” I tried to explain before sobbing again.

“Its alright… You ought to get some sleep love. James and Matthew will be here.” She assured me as she covered me with a blanket. I closed my eyes.

Matthew Fairchild.

It was as if all the alcohol I drunk tonight evaporated within the three minutes I saw Y/N spasming on the ground. I knew what was happening to her was hurtful and a bad experience but I thought it was mostly mental, never had I pondered what the physical pain would be.

Me and James were right outside of her room while aunt Tessa was aiding her into comfort. We stood silently until the door opened. “Mom, how is Lina?” James asked, I could feel his tremors, I had those tremors as well.

“She is sleeping. I just, I do not want her to be alone James… Matthew. Stay here. I have to go and tell Will everything is fine. We will be at the ballroom in case anything happens.” Aunt Tessa spoke.

“Of course mom.” James spoke and we entered the room. I had only seen it four times and it was only for a while. It was filled with books and notes. James walked to Y/N and checked her breathing. Her lips curved into a smile.

“I am not dead, don’t get too excited.” She commented and I snorted at the joke.

“How alive are you on a scale from 1-10.?” I asked and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Well, 2.5. Maybe 3” Y/Nreplied, even tired she managed to look good half conscious.

“See practically dead.” I responded, I was trying to hide the horror for both me and James. I could feel my parabatai’s stress overflowing his energy. I was sure it was the combination of his small interdimensional trip, Barbara’s passing out and Y/N’s seizure that came on top. James was sitting at the armchair across the room and he was silent and thankfully, my amusing dialogue seem to have Y/N forget about the presence of James.

“Almost like you after a hangover.” Y/Nspoke, her voice was getting raspier, highlighting the exhaustion her organism had gone through. She was hugging her pillow. James’ eyes were pinned upon her figure, he was behind her.

“Oh having a hangover, includes the pause of alcohol for several hours… Bold of you to assume I have hangovers.” I commented and tried to gain an eyecontact with my parabatai.

“Oh, what can I say? I am bold” She giggled.

“It’s a twin thing…” I spoke trying to get James in the conversation.

“What is?” James asked and looked at me, his expression puzzled.

“Boldness” I replied. “Where does your mind wander off Jamie?” I asked.

“To his blonde platinum angel that just arrived to our humble city. Perhaps, next time you could fight your urges and not let ladies so abruptly and rudly. This could be a scandal.” Y/N threw a nail at him, I cannot say it was unfairly.

“Yes, and thank you for the rescue… I saw that Aiden came for dance.” James remarked and looked at his sister with a sigh. “At least it was for a while…” He commented.

“Yeah, then it was Alastair, it goes from bad to worse” I chuckled lightly. Alastair is unbearable and frustrating, this person really has no soul and I cannot understand how him and Cordelia were siblings, she was so different, so sweet and kind and beautiful. He was mean and an awful person, remembering the days back in the academy had my blood boil.

“I, actually, happened to like Alastair. He is pleasant…” she spoke and I gulped looking down at Y/N.

“You cannot be serious.” I exclaimed making the twins jump at the sudden outburst. I regretted my reaction instantly, nonetheless I couldn’t withstand listening to good words for the person that caused my family so much pain. I felt my heart clench as I saw James shot up wide eyed and Y/Nsat up and looked at me. I wish I had some booze. “Sorry.” I sighed.

“Its okay, are you okay though?” Y/Nasked and looked at me her grey eyes were tired, she rolled her body closer to me and touched my knee gently she was covered with a woolen blanket and I dragged the blanket slowly and covered her feet better, James seemed to be dragged back into his own world.

“I am just shaken Lina, and I sincerely dislike Alastair and I do not prefer to spend my time speaking about a subject like him” I explained and patted her back feet above the blanket in a comforting way and offered her a smile. Even at a state like she was right now she was concerned about me. “How about you? Seriously though? What happened?” I asked her.

“Matthew Fairchild, serious. James, dearest, note the date” Y/Nresponded with a chuckle.

“Will though Y/N Herondale be serious to?” James asked me and I looked at him.

“Look who decided to come to our universe.” She asked him, Lina’s gaze was trying to lighten the atmosphere and she darted from her twin to me, she realized that we were seriously wanted to speak about it. “It was an accident” she admitted.

“How can an accident cause this Y/N?” James asked. He was anxious and looked at me for some back up.

“What he means, is that you seemed fully prepared, and then you were missing a glove.” I explained what James was unable to express.

“I was waltzing with Alastair and we were speaking. And then there was the scream, he signed to me that Barbara was collapsing and it was a reflex I tried catching her and the comp on her hair I think, was caught in the lace of my glove. And then I touched her cheek. Helped Anna undo the crochet. This is when I realized what I had gotten myself into…” Her calm was indescribable, maybe it was the exhaustion she didn’t have the power to be as creeped out as we were. “Everything started blurring and thankfully I saw Thomas and you, James next to him and you knew that something was completely wrong.” She concluded her summary.

“Alright, I will be the one to shoot the one million question. What did you see?” I wondered and looked at Y/Nwhose face darkened immediately. She looked uneased but I didn’t take the question back.

“I mean, I want to know too. From what I get, the most serious the seizure the worse the vision.” James added he had stood up and moved around sitting on his sister bed next to her head, he needed to see her reactions as he supported my question.

“I think I saw the future, is this enough?” Y/Nspoke and sat up next to James so we could talk better he covered her with blanket that was dislocated owing to her movement.

“Well no it is not, because literally five minutes ago I became a shadow.” James revealed “And then Barbara collapsed and the next moment we are hurrying to get you out of the ball room which we didn’t do.” He added summarizing our side of the story.

“I had the seizure in front of everyone? Great…” Y/Ngroaned and covered her face, she was blushing from embarrassment.

“Do not be concerned we hid you behind a pillar” I spoke up and sighed “Honestly there were no people. Everyone was with Barbara. Your parents made sure to maintain the audience limited.” I assured her as she laid again this time on James’ lap he was stroking her hair carefully. “What did you see though?” I asked again bringing the hot topic again.

“I was laying at the infirmary, I was laying on a bed and the pain I felt was unbearable. It wasn’t a muscle or a stab wound. It was general, eating me from inside out. I was feeling a weigh on my torso, something that wouldn’t allow oxygen, my heart was pulsating heavily with difficulty. It felt as if time was coming by slowly and I could hear each heartbeat in my eardrums so loudly. On my side I saw aunt Sophie…” Y/Npaused, her gaze was looking blankly at the floor. She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath and I exchanged a  glance with James who signed me to give her time.

“Aunt Sophie was weeping. I have never seen anyone crying. There was so much pain. Mental but mostly physical. My point of view started raising as If I was seeing everything hang from the ceiling. As in my visual field I saw aunt Sophie crying over Barbara. I was trying to speak to her hug her move closer to her and the more I was trying, the more I wasn’t able to breath, the more I was aching, aching so much as if a- a hand tore right through my heart and ripped my heart out in such slow pace I could feel every ounce of it--” Her voice was raising the more she was narrating her experience, her vision and it felt as if she was getting lost at her own collections, reliving it. I allowed James to handle this situation he seemed somewhat more familiar with it. But he didn’t.

“Hey hey, easy. We got the picture” James spoke and shook her abruptly to get her out of the depth of her ponders. I didn’t want to mention it but she basically predicted the death of Barbara. My head was with Thomas as I felt as if our Barbara was already gone. I didn’t speak of it, the last thing Y/N needed was to be more upset. “How about you get some sleep?” James asked.

“Alright but, promise to not leave?” Y/Nrequested and laid back on her pillow. Her gaze was first on me and then to James.

“We aren’t going anywhere Lina” James spoke and kissed her forehead. We didn’t move from our spots. 

[astriefer]

And One Taught Me Pain

I wished I had something for all days of Alastember, but here I am popping at the very end of it to give you some hurt (and a little comfort).

This is an au where Sona died when the Carstairs siblings were young. Alastair had no one but Risa to help with Elias's addiction - but once he and Cordelia grew and had enough, the thought of running away was what they whisper about in the middle of the night.

CW: parental neglect, addiction, mentions of drinking, bullying (tell me if there are more)

@alastair-appreciation-month

"I'll be there in thirty," Jem spoke through the phone. Metal clattered together on the other side of the phone as if his cousin was rummaging through his keys. He imagined he walked out of the comfort of his house in the countryside near London in a rush, thanks to Alastair's out-of-the-blue phone call in the middle of the night.

Alastair clutched the phone firmly to his ear. "Thank you," he mumbled numbly.

He resented Jem. He was beyond grateful for this, too. His emotions were spluttered all over the floor and bare for anyone. Yet, once the blinding rage had faded, he couldn't feel anything at all. He was so bewildered, not to mention frightened beyond words. Nothing was certain anymore, and Alastair doubted it would ever feel otherwise. No. No, actually, that wasn't true. there was one thing the half-Persian boy was sure about: he wasn't returning back home.

Was it a home? Cornwall Gardens in south Kensington was where he, his sister Cordelia and their father had lived for the past few months. Since Elias came back from rehab, he turned a new leaf to be there for his children. At least this is the story the family told with a strained smile if it was ever brought up.

The truth was far more disheartening.

Having nothing else to say, Alastair turned to finish the call. His cousin wasn't done yet, though.

"How is Cordelia?" Jem asked. The younger boy heard the sound of the engine turning on. He tensed and started to tap on the kitchen marble table. "You said she's not with you. Is she still at home?"

His breath went out of his lungs involuntarily while the thought of it filled him with unimaginable dread. Layla alone with Father, having to bear his demands and his moods, and his recklessness. Layla watching the person she used to look up to with bright eyes in the past now with chagrin while he couldn't stand on his own. It almost shattered whatever small pieces were left of his heart.

"No," Alastair informed. He yielded the tapping to a stop, pressing his fingers to his thigh.  He kept any emotion away from his voice, keeping it from wavering and choking. He can't be weak, not now. Not ever. "She is sleeping over at Lucie's."

"Oh," he could hear the confusion in his older cousin's voice. There was a pause.

Truth be told, he knew the Herondales wouldn't harm Cordelia. He didn't like James much, but he knew they were a respectable and kind-hearted family, and they loved her. Alastair, on the other hand? He bullied their son, he threw shade at their friends, and although he started to heal and deem himself worth forgiveness, he couldn't feel safe enough there to tell them the truth. So he left Cordelia on the steps of the Herondales' house – despite her stubborn protests of him staying with her -  with her bag of clothes. When Lucie opened the door to greet her best friend and usher her in, he spiraled into the darkness of the night. It was better this way for all of them.

He expected Jem to ask why Alastair didn’t stay with the Herondales and was convinced he would question his ways. The half-Chinese man never did.

"Alright," Jem said, not probing further. That irked Alastair anyway, albeit mixed with surprise. He swallowed it – when his father was away and they lived with their aunt, through her stories he learned about how much his late mother cared for curtsey. She probably wouldn't be proud of the vast variety of swears he uttered thoughtlessly all the time, but he hoped she at least appreciated the effort to be mundane with his cousin.

"I will not tell them unless you want me to. But I recommend you speak with Cordelia, I'm sure she's worried about you. And maybe give a call to your aunt, as well." The dark-haired boy felt like he was being chided.

"And Alastair?" Jem added, a bit softer.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you called me."

He hung up, and Alastair stared at the phone as the silence settled around him.

*

Alastair had two options. To seethe or to cry. It wasn't all that surprising he chose the former.

When he left Cordelia with the Herondales, he had no clear vision of where he would stay the night. Sleeping under the moonlight on a bench was the main option, but he was widely aware there were dangers in the night. He could try and sneak to Kamla's house. But although they were fast friends, she had no idea about… anything. His father, Cordelia, the debts.

Could he have trusted her with this? She would've gotten into a lot of trouble had she offered him shelter, so he dismissed the idea as soon as it formed in his mind. He didn't believe he would get any sleep at all, whatever he had done.

So he let himself walk. Which was an awful idea.

As adrenaline left his veins, and he had time to rewind in his mind the latest events in his life, it left him exhausted. And so, so angry.

The dark-eyed boy managed to walk along the moonlit Thames, stepping near street lamps that shone like fire on his skin, as he went up the river skimming the rail. It was getting colder, and he needed to find shelter from the approaching storm soon.

His fingers creased the ceremonial dagger gently in his jumper's pocket. His father owned a sword in his youth, Cortana, which Cordelia inherited. His sister took it with her when they left Cornwall Gardens in hurry earlier, the sword one of her most treasured items. It was a family heirloom - a reminder they were warriors, heroes - that passed down generations of Carstairs. It'd been said to bestow fortuity along great pain on its bearer, which Alastair had always thought quite contradictory. Besides, who wishes their ancestors to live through great pain? He had enough of it his whole life.

Cordelia took Cortana with her while Alastair took a Persian dagger Aunt Risa gifted him for Nowruz, Persian New Year, ages back when they lived in Italy. Risa was the only member of the Jahansha family to keep in touch with them after the death of their mother. Some of his relatives sent them the occasional postcard, but when they left Iran, Risa was the one who put her life on hold and join them.

There were many stories of how Sona Carstairs, eldest daughter of one of the community's strongest families lost her life – some verses claimed she had an abortion and died from complications. Others gossiped it was the heartbreak of losing a child. Others speculated she was pulled to the other world by her late previous husband, Theodore Verlac, to reunite or to demand revenge. The most popular tale, though, was that she was poisoned, just like she poisoned her previous husband.

None of those fabricated stories affected their aunt or her loyalty to her sister. Even when they were ten, two years after Sona's death, she helped to keep the house afloat in her frequent visits. Years later, when Elias was sent to rehab and Cordelia learned what his illness truly was, Risa moved in temporarily and helped them settle in London.

After he lived a somewhat normal life without Elias, he couldn't return to the hell his old ones were. Not again.

This day wasn't supposed to be any different from the new routine they had since Elias's return. It filled him with rage the way Elias treated them when they returned from school, asking them to clean and cook. Most days he claimed to suffer from a headache due to work, while he stunk from the alcohol he downed in a nearby bar. The things the half-Persian boy had done to keep his sister safe from the cruel truth, all the pieces of himself he lost in attempts to hide his broken life. It was too much to recall or think about. It merely left him feeling hollow and bitter.

He didn't get farther into the sulking. A very tall man interrupted his contemplating. He didn't pay attention and lost his footing, wide-eyed, barely regaining his balance. Large hands shot forward to steady the both of them.

The dark-skinned man's head jolted upright swiftly. His body tensed up and he placed himself in a defensive position out of instinct. One good thing his useless father did was to teach them self-defense and attack patterns to ward off any threats. Nevertheless, the person that called his name was not a threat. Not a physical one, at least.

"Thomas?" Alastair asked in amazement.

*

"What are you doing here?" Thomas asked, his voice stiff. He glanced at the dagger in the older boy's hand, just a fraction of nervousness passing his features. "And do you mind putting down the pointy knife?"

Alastair glanced down and realized that as he tried to keep himself standing he pulled his arm out of the jumper. Oh. He lowered the weapon, trying to stop a snide remark to leave his lips. But he always had a loose tongue when he was angry. Which seemed to be almost all the time. "It’s a dagger." Alastair spit. "And I can ask you the same thing. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

It managed to shut Alastair up. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. There was a fraction less heat in his words when he asked, "What?"

"It's a personal favor for you sister, who's been trying to call you for hours, by the way," Thomas said coolly.

Alastair's heart dropped to the floor, but he kept his chin high. His phone had no battery once he left the Herondales' house. Had his sister called while he was out? She must have had if she called her friends and asked them to search London to find him in the middle of the night.

Still, something else sparked his interest. His hope.

"Do you realize," Alastair said slowly instead. "That it's a very daft idea to stroll by yourself in the night?"

Lightning appeared in the sky. Seconds later the loud rolling laugh of thunder was heard across London. It was Thomas's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Well, I can ask you."

"I am on my way to a friend," he lied. He preferred better that the hazel-eyed boy didn't know that when Alastair racked his brain to where he could stay the night, none of the options were very pleasant. Alastair had no friends. Unless he counted Charles – which he did not. "And anyhow, I considered you the least stupidity–inclined of that group of friends you have."

"Really," Thomas retorted dryly.

"Obviously, yes." Alastair huffed, trying to compose himself. "Please, no offense, but I wouldn't have followed someone all night to make sure they're safe, having no protection of my own. It'd be stupid." If it weren't for people close to him, he wouldn’t have bothered. And he didn’t think it was right to describe the relationship as close, exactly.  

"I had no such expectations," Thomas assured him, crossing his arms. He was still glaring at him with such sharpness he had the urge to flinch, but Alastair was prideful and stubborn just as much.

It kept like that for a long, awkward silence. Thomas broke eye contact first. "Why?"

Alastair blinked in confusion. There was a pause, in which none of them seemed to know what to do or say.

"I-" Alastair has no idea what Thomas asked 'why' about. Why did he take a night trip in London with no appropriate clothing in an impending storm? Why didn't he make sure to charge his phone? Why was he there, having an eye contest with Thomas Lightwood? "I don't know what you mean."

"You know what I mean," anger tinted Thomas's voice now, and he clenched his hands into fists. "Why-"

Alastair was not having it. He answered the question with his own.

"Why would you come search for me?"

After all, You hate me.

*

Thomas scoffed. "What do you mean? Cordelia asked me to help. I wouldn't have come on my own accord."

"You went out of your way to search for a person you despise?" Alastair tried to clarify. "Why go through the trouble? Why not pretend you already went to sleep, or that you are helping with your mother's café. Anything, really?" He sounded almost desperate in the ending. Thomas must have hallucinated it.

Thomas was excellent at reading people, Alastair especially. The Lightwood boy assumed Alastair wasn't accustomed to someone understanding him, knowing his heart as easily as it is to know his own. When Thomas looked at his unreadable face, visible in the moon's soft glow, he knew that Alastair couldn't understand why.

"Because I'm not heartless, unlike you," he answered. A half-truth. He watched as Alastair gritted his teeth.

"I tried to apologize." Alastair countered, "I know what I did was - unacceptable. That it hurt you. I regret the path I've taken. But when your father is the advisor of the president and part of the British parliament, you cannot possibly pretend people don't gossip."

"You are not just people," Thomas said, a tad bit too fast and too harshly. He shut his mouth tightly as he registered what he blurted out.

Alastair did too, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "What exactly," he exclaimed, slowly, "do you mean by that?"

 Thomas took a deep breath. "I mean," Thomas said sternly, avoiding his eyes. "That you knew James, still you decided to pick on him. You humiliated people. You had no reason to be cruel to us. I know the world hasn't always been there for you, but you could've chosen to be kinder."

Alastair restrained a disbelieving snort. He wanted to say, Thomas, by the love of the Angel, there's so much worse that could have happened to you lot.

What did come out of his mouth was, "What do you know?"

Thomas's gaze shot to him in shock. He opened his mouth, but Alastair cut him off with a violent shake of his hand.

"What do you know," Alastair repeated, enraged. "About my life, about what I had to do? You say I had an option, but I did not." His fingers itched, so turned them into fists and shot his hardest look at Thomas. "You whine because I spread a rumor once, when I was, what, thirteen? Try hearing everyone laugh at you all your life because you have only a father, and that's an overstatement!" He smiled then, a crooked smile that broke Thomas's heart. "Try being kind, Thomas, when the world has only ever been merciless."

He literally spat the last words. And now that he has begun, Alastair found it impossible to stop. He wanted to be heard, for once. He wanted something to take off the pain that never seemed to leave him alone. Thomas, on his part, looked mortified. "And you know why I'm not worried about walking alone at night? I've done that since I was a kid. When I did works a child shouldn't do. When I never had a shoulder I could lean on, unlike you and your family and friends. The world has never proven to me it could be anything but tedious." Alastair had no idea when the tears started, neither he knew about the rain that poured around them. But when he felt something wet on his cheeks, he realized streams of tears had constructed on his face.

 He breathed a long, profound breath that stabilized him enough to continue. "So don’t assume I should be grateful that you sacrificed your pride to come search for me," He stepped closer to Thomas, poking his finger in his chest. Thomas blushed faintly. "That you were so kind as to speak to me. I might l-" he paused. It was then that he looked away from Thomas, averting his eyes. "I try to do better. To be better. And you can despise me all you want, but you don't get the tell me I should have been kinder." Alastair's throat felt dry all of a sudden. He poked Thomas's chest weakly once again. "You do not."

Thomas gawked at Alastair. He knew there was no way to answer this correctly, and he doubted he needed to. Alastair didn't say this to make him pity him. The said man moved to keep a distance between them, as Thomas found himself saying: "I don't hate you."

Alastair lifted his gaze to look at his eyes, glassy dark eyes – dark as the sky above them, that started to seriously gather clouds by now. "I tried. To think of you as a monster, to loathe you. But I can't, " Thomas whispered, looking to keep Alastair's eyes. He didn't understand all of what Alastair has said. But it was enough for him to connect the dots. "Cordelia suddenly dropped off at Lucie. You wander the city at night…" he trailed off.

They weren't close, they weren't even on friendly terms anymore. Thomas busy himself trying to convince himself the man in front of him had no heart. But he couldn't have been more misguided. He felt ashamed, all of a sudden. He was a complete fool, wasn't he?

"I…" Something shut off behind Alastair's eyes. It looked like the spirit he had moments ago abandoned him, and Thomas first took notice of the dark circles around the older boy's eyes. The way every strand wasn't perfectly in place, so unlike Alastair. What startled him the most was the look of defeat in his eyes. "I have nowhere else to go."

What does that mean?

Before Thomas had a chance to ask, a loud HONK! Startled the both of them. A car skidded to a stop next to them. As the window rolled down, Thomas gasped in astonishment.

Alastair squinted, trying to recall the name of the man in front of him. Then it clicked. "Gideon Lightwood?"

"What are you doing out, my boy?" He quizzed Thomas. His eyes reflected his curiously, with slight alarm. "Alastair Carstairs?"

Alastair nodded, not sure what to say.

"We…" Thomas thought of something to say. He looked at Alastair. What excuse could they make, when they wear bone-deep soaked in rainwater, far away from both their homes?

"Nevermind that. Get inside first, before you'll catch a cold." Thomas obliged and rushed to slide inside the back seat. He was dripping water, which his mother wouldn't be pleased about. Both for the car and himself.

"What are you doing, standing there like a statue? Get inside." Gideon told Alastair, who blinked with surprise. Gideon gave him an encouraging honk, and Alastair started to think he just really liked to blow the car's horn.

It gave Alastair a startle. This man was worried for him. It was odd and, he suspected, very much like Gideon Lightwood, because Thomas hadn’t seemed to be surprised by his father's concerned face.

Hesitantly, Alastair entered the car. He sat on the back seat, near Thomas. After he fastened the belt, he straightened his back and stiffly thanked Gideon.

"Anytime," Gideon Lightwood, the man Alastair slandered in his youth, smiled brightly at him. Something inside him twisted. "Shall we take you home, Alastair?"

Thomas glanced at Alastair as he stiffened. I have nowhere else to go.

"It's the route you take every day to work, right, Pa?" Thomas asked. "We're closer to our house. And we're both soaked. I think we should get home and change to some fresh, dry clothes."

Gideon frowned. "Is it okay with your father, Alastair?"

"Yes," Alastair answered, his voice steady and closed off, composed. It was Alastair Carstairs, the untouchable, cold, and stony persona he wore anywhere else but when it was just himself. "He doesn't mind."

Thomas couldn't stop gazing at Alastair. Gideon seemed to trust Alastair's word, so he started the car toward home.

The hidden, grateful eyes of Alastair had not gone unnoticed by Thomas. Maybe Alastair wasn't so bad. Maybe Thomas misunderstood it all. But he knew one thing: he wanted to be there for him. So he had.

Taglist: (which is very old, so please tell me if you don't wanna be here)

@life-through-the-eyes-of @rainingpouringetc @takethetrain @ary-es @justanormaldemon @tessherongraystairs