𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖘 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖞.

valentine morgenstern && the kids cried out, 'please STOP, you're scaring me.' I can't stop this awful energy. you're GODDAMN RIGHT -- you should be scared of me. who is in CONTROL?

[rcisehclls]

( brant daugherty, 26, he/him ) welcome to reprieve, VALENTINE MORGENSTERN who is from SHADOWHUNTERS, PRE-PILOT. rumor has it they are a SHADOWHUNTER, but only they could tell you the truth! when i close my eyes, i think of them and imagine CONVICTIONS STRONGER THAN IRON, BLOODSTAINED HANDS, AND EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES BY PANIC AT THE DISCO.

bc  i  hate  myself,  i  decided  i  needed  to  play  a  circle  era  valentine.  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha.  we  love  pain.

previously  on  shadowhunters

valentine  was  one  of  the  clave’s  best  and  brightest  shadowhunters  in  his  youth.  his  whole  family  were  legacies;   the  bravest  and  the  best,  each  generation  trained  ruthlessly  to  ensure  they  could  handle  themselves  in  combat.  this  led  valentine  to  both  love  and  despise  his  father.   he  resented  his  unforgiving  spirit,  how  hard  he  could  sometimes  be  on  him,  but  knew  that  he  made  him  a  better  fighter.  

while  attending  the  shadowhunter  academy  in  idris,  near  alicante  where  he  was  born  and  raised,  he  formed  an  organization  called  the  circle.  initially,  the  circle  was  founded  to  protest  the  antiquated  views  of  the  clave  and  the  consul.  they  were  young  voices,  all  ambitious  and  hungry,  and  longed  for  a  world  where  they  could  be  better  than  the  generation  before.   they  wanted  to  reform  the  downworld  —  and  the  accords  —  and  forge  a  new  and  better  world.   everything  changed,  however,  after  valentine’s  father  was  murdered  on  what  should  have  been  a  routine  werewolf  den  inspection.   his  mother,  shortly  after,  died  of  a  heart  attack.   grief,  valentine  would  say  to  anyone  who  would  listen.  grief  was  killed  her.  a  broken  heart.   their  deaths  changed  something  in  valentine.  he  hardened,  his  views  becoming  more  radical,  and  his  desire  to  reform  the  downworld  turned  to  a  hatred  for  all  downworlders.  he  saw  them  all  as  demons,  as  creatures  that  masquerade  as  humans,  and  if  they  couldn’t  be  controlled  they  needed  to  be  eradicated.    

as  the  circle  began  to  grow  in  power,  valentine  started  experimenting.  first,  on  himself,  and  then  later  on  his  unborn  children.  when  injecting  himself  with  demon  blood,  or  angel  blood,  he  saw  temporary  changes  to  his  strength,  powers,   etc,  but  because  he  was  an  adult  they  never  lasted.    he  figured  that  if  he  experimented  on  a  child  before  their  birth,  he’d  have  a  better  chance  of  bringing  about  the  strongest  generation  of  shadowhunters.   he  married  jocelyn  and  fed  her  demon  blood  while  she  was  pregnant.   he  did  a  similar  test  with  stephen  herondale’s  wife  celine,  with  angel  blood,  from  the  angel  ithuriel  that  he  had  bound  and  held  captive  in  the  cellar  of  their  house.  he  also  did  some  other  questionable  things  around  this  time.  when  lucien  turned  on  him,  his  parabatai,  he  put  him  in  a  position  where  he  was  bitten  by  a  werewolf.   they  fought  and  he  told  lucien  if  he  had  any  honor,  he  would  kill  himself.   he  didn’t  stick  around  long  enough  to  figure  out  what  decision  he’d  made.  as  his  parabatai  rune  faded  away,  inflicting  a  pain  worse  than  death  upon  him,  he  barely  felt  it;   his  humanity  was  so  far  removed,  it  was  like  he  couldn’t  feel  things  like  pain,  or  love,  anymore.    or  so  he  liked  to  think.

shortly  after  this,  the  uprising  was  planned.  the  circle  would  attack  accords  hall  when  the  accords  were  to  be  signed,  killing  all  of  the  downworlders  inside.  poised  for  peace,  none  of  them  would  be  prepared;  it’d  be  a  slaughter.   jocelyn,  disillusioned  by  valentine  at  this  point,  conspired  with  downworlders  to  put  a  stop  to  his  plan.  as  a  result,  they  were  prepared  for  the  assault  and  many  circle  members  died  during  the  uprising.  valentine,  sensing  defeat,  fled  and  faked  his  own  death  —  and  the  death  of  his  son  —  so  that  they  wouldn’t  come  looking  for  him.   he  also  kept  stephen  herondale’s  son,  jace,  and  raised  him  as  his  own.

where  is  he  now?

valentine  is  pulled  from  a  post-uprising  world.  this  would  be  before  he  fakes  his  own  death  and  jace  is  sent  to  live  with  the  lightwoods.  

he’s  still  reeling  from  the  loss  of  his  parents,  of  his  wife,  and  his  own  failures  with  the  uprising.  that  said,  his  end  goals  are  still  the  same  —  he  just  doesn’t  know  about  a  lot  of  the  integral  moving  pieces.  yikes,  yikes,  yikes.  

[eliotwauh]

… That, and my hair.

[sunsetkisses92]

[rcisehclls]

KELSEY, A

the  majority  of  the  time  the  banshee  tried  to  keep  out  of  trouble,  apart  from  her  interference  with  the  course  of  death  —–  for  her  own  TRAGIC  reasons,  of  course.  but  other  than  that  she  spent  time  mostly  just  keeping  out  of  town  gossip.  keeping  to  herself.  having  lived  there  her  whole  life,  she  used  to  be  a  lot  more  INVOLVED.  she  recalls  memories  of  her  mother  baking  for  fates,  or  her  performing  in  variety  shows.  but  that  long  since  passed  with  growing  up,  and  the  broken  corpse  of  her  mother  on  their  living  room  floor.  NOTHING  LIKE  LOSS  TO  TRULY  BRING  YOU  CRASHING  BACK  DOWN  TO  REALITY.   even  if  she  wants  to  keep  out  of  the  drama  of  reprieve,  it  didn’t  stop  the  whispers  in  her  head.  how  they  ricochet  off  her  brain  and  fizzle  like  air  in  a  tin  can  against  her  skull.  a  true  fucking  nuisance,  really.  and  so  she  knows  there’s  more  souls  there,  more  people.  all  more  lost  than  she  was,  or  maybe  she’s  right  there  with  them.  she  isn’t  sure.  it’s  on  impulse  alone  that  she’s  in  the  town  square,  emeralds  glancing  through  a  sea  of  people,  keeping  her  distance,  but  watching.  maybe  part  of  her  feels  like  she  can  help,  or  she  likes  to  think  that.  it’s  a  comfort,  deep  down.  she  won’t  acknowledge  it,  because  it  means  acknowledging  years  of  trauma,  that  she’d  kept  locked  up  tight  in  a  box.  but  it  makes  her  NOT  feel  useless.   the  voice  snaps  her  out  of  her  dissociation,  she’d  been  listening  to  the  background  noise,  both  in  her  head  and  in  the  town.  and  yet,  the  voice  could  have  faded  into  the  background.  but  it’s  very  real  —–  at  least,  demanding  of  her  attention.  it’s  authoritative,  and  with  the  tone,  she  feels  her  heart  ache.  SHE’D  LONG  SINCE  BEEN  ESTRANGED  FROM  HER  DAD.  it  didn’t  mean  she  didn’t  miss  him.  or  crave  the  days  where  she’d  spilled  cherry  soda  on  a  white  rug  and  got  the  lecture  from  hell.  things  were  simpler  then.  she’s  turning,  confusion  on  her  features,  and  then  the  name  comes.  and  her  nose  crinkles.  AGAIN?  it’s  not  like  she’d  been  comfortable  in  her  own  identity  for  a  while,  but  now  being  in  the  midst  of  being  assumed  as  someone  else.  there’s  NOTHING  more  crazy  annoying  than  it.  clearly,  this  man  has  some  issue  with  this  girl,  and  she’s  curious,  really.  “ listen,  it’s  clearly  not  long  enough.  if  this  is  a line,  or  some  kinda  way  of  coming  ONTO  me,  please  find  someone  else  and  some  NEW  material.  it’s  CREEPY,  and  downright  RUINING  an  already  rubbish  day.  i  don’t  know  you,  and  i  don’t  particularly  want  to.  so  please,  GO  AWAY.  ”

..

it  becomes  glaringly  obvious,  even  without  the  context  of  her  words,  that  this  woman  isn’t  his  daughter.   the  cadence  of  her  words,  the  severity  of  her  tone,  and  the  brightness  of  her  hair  are  just  a  few  indicators  that  she’s  not  who  seems  before  her  words  register.   there’s  irony  in  that  her  temperament  and  her  light  hair  would  make  her  resemble  more  like  his  younger  self,  more  like  jonathan,  than  clarissa  ever  had.   she’d  gotten  too  much  from  her  mother.   it  made  her  difficult  to  control.

“  i’ll  stop  you  right  there. ”   he  holds  a  hand  up,  a  grimace  twisting  his  features.  “  there’s  no  world  where  i’m  hitting  on  you. ”   the  idea  is  horrific.  he  might  be  twisted,  seek  power  and  respect  through  violent  or  manipulative  ways,  but  even  he  has  his  limits.  there’s  nothing  to  exploit  here;  no  weakness  to  prey  on,  or  pawns  to  shift  into  place.  with  clarissa  and  jace,  he’d  hoped  to  weaponize  their  feelings  and  turn  them  to  his  cause.  it  had  worked  until  it  hadn’t;   their  bond  was  too  great  to  be  broken.   maybe  he  could  try  and  convince  her  that  she  was  clarissa,  that  her  memories  had  been  tampered  with,  but  to  what  end  ?   what  would  he  gain  ?

the  children  he  had  were  pains  enough.  he  didn’t  feel  the  need  to  add  any  others  into  the  mix. 

“  you  look  like  my  daughter. ”   he  explains,  deciding  that  playing  the  contritious,  doting  father,  is  the  easiest  role  to  settle  into.  “  eerily  so.  you  could  be  twins. ”

[rcisehclls]

(  tagging  @mundanelife​​  )

he  knows  now  that  not  everything  in  reprieve  is  as  it  might  seem.  he’s  run  into  doppelgangers  of  both  his  children  now  —  one  who,  in  a  fit  of  annoyance  at  his  apparent  existence,  threw  a  fit  and  stormed  off  —  so  he  knows  not  to  make  assumptions  without  facts  to  back  them  up.  appearances  can  be  deceiving.   best  to  keep  your  guard  up  until  you’re  certain  you  know  who  you’re  dealing  with.

when  he  spots  a  familiar  head  of  fiery  red  hair,  he  decides  to  take  a  calculated  approach.   he  carefully  draws  the  rune  to  allow  him  to  present  himself  differently,  settling  on  himself  —  only  20  years  younger.   while  few  might  recognize  him  this  way,  he  knows  his  daughter  wouldn’t;   it’s  the  perfect  way  to  get  close  enough  to  her  to  determine  if  it  is  her,  and  if  so  how  much  she  knows  about  him  and   the  world  he  comes  from.   

he  ducks  into  the   coffee  shop  behind  her,  snatching  a  coffee  from  someone  with  their  eyes  cast  away  to  use  as  an  opening.  he  nudges  forward  as  if  he’d  been  pushed,  the  hot  liquid  spilling  out  over  his  hands  and  splashing  onto  her  jacket.   “  shit. ”   he  curses  low  under  his  breath,  eyes  wincing  sympathetically  as  he  reaches  past  her  for  some  napkins.   “  i’m  so  sorry.   someone  knocked  into  me  and  ...  well,  you  see  what  happened  next.  heh.  let  me  make  it  up  to  you  ... ”   he  digs  into  his  pockets  once  he’s  dabbed  at  the  coffee  on  her  jacket  awkwardly.   “  croissants  on  me  ?   or  cookies,  whichever  you  like  more.   or  eclairs,  if  that’s  your  thing.  ”   the  younger  version  of  him  was  never  this  awkward,  or  inept,  but  if  she  hangs  around  that  vampire  voluntarily  ...  he’s  sure  she’ll  react  well  to  this  bumbling  fool.   

[rcisehclls]

(  tagging  @devilsiniquity​  )

the   drawback  of  stepping  through  a  portal  of  unknown  origin  is  that  there’s  not necessarily  someone  on  the  other  side  waiting  to  bring  you  back.  he’d  waited  around  for  awhile,  trying  everything  he  could  think  of  to  find  his  way  back,  only  to  come  up  empty-handed.  wherever  this  reprieve  was,  whether  it  be  in  their  dimension  or  a  mirror  universe,  for  the  time  being  —  he  was  stuck.

stuck  but  also  free  of  the  clave’s  clutches. there  were  worse  cages  to  be  trapped  in.

mirror  universe  or  not,  thankfully  things  like  bars  remain  consistent.   he  slips  inside  and  settles  one  one  of  the  stools,  ordering  himself  something  strong  from  the  menu  as  he  lets  his  eyes  cast  around.   call  it  a  sixth  sense  but  he  can  feel  eyes  on  him;   senses  something  prickling  at  the  back  of  his  neck.   he  spots  the  man  and  makes  eye  contact,  giving  him  a  once-over  before  turning  back  to  wait  for  his  drink.

no  runes.  clearly  not  a  shadowhunter. there’s  something  about  him  that  makes  him  uneasy  however  and  once  his  drink’s  in  hand,  he  decides  to  indulge  his  curiosity.   

“  you  look  just  about  as  thrilled  as  i  am  to  be  here. ”   he  comments  once  he’s  approached  the  stranger’s  table,  sinking  into  the  seat  opposite  him  without  invitation.  

[rcisehclls]

(  tagging  @shebanshee​  )

his  feet  hit  the  ground  with  a  dull  thud.  the  mortal  cup’s  tucked  under  one  arm  while  his  fingers  wrap  tightly  around  the  hilt  of  the  mortal  sword.  even  deactivated  as  it  is,  he  knows  its  importance.  he  has  no  intentions  of  letting  either  of  the  mortal  instruments  fall  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  his  lessers.   

there’s  no  telling  where  exactly  this  portal’s  dropped  him  —  it  appeared  just  as  suddenly  as  he’d  stepped  through  —  but  given  the  clave  were  just about  to  take  him  into  custody  ...  it  was  the  better  of  the  bad  options.

he  stashes  the  mortal  instruments  in  a  safe  place  away  from  prying  eyes,  locking  them  away  with  his  stele  until  he  can  come  back  for  them.   he’s  just  emerging  from  the  shadows,  dusting  off  the  legs  of  his  pants,  when  he  sees  a  familiar  face.   clarissa.   maybe  it  would  be  smarter  to  sneak  up  on  her,  prey  on  the  element  of  surprise,  but  irritation  makes  him  victim  to  his  own  hubris.   she  did,  after  all,  recently  detrail  his  plan  to  destroy  all  downworlders.   

DADDY’S  ANGRY.

“  well,  well. ”   his  words  are  a  drawl,  stele  activating  his  strength  and  stamina  runes  in  case  this  turns  into  a  fight.   “  look  who  it  is.   clarissa.   nice  to  see  you  again. ”

[rcisehclls]

( brett dalton, 40, he/him ) welcome to reprieve, VALENTINE MORGENSTERN who is from SHADOWHUNTERS, SEASON 2. rumor has it they are a SHADOWHUNTER, but only they could tell you the truth! when i close my eyes, i think of them and imagine CONVICTIONS STRONGER THAN IRON, BLOODSTAINED HANDS, AND EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES BY PANIC AT THE DISCO. 

previously  on  shadowhunters:  

valentine  was  one  of  the  clave’s  best  and  brightest  shadowhunters  in  his  youth.  his  whole  family  were  legacies;   the  bravest  and  the  best,  each  generation  trained  ruthlessly  to  ensure  they  could  handle  themselves  in  combat.  this  led  valentine  to  both  love  and  despise  his  father.   he  resented  his  unforgiving  spirit,  how  hard  he  could  sometimes  be  on  him,  but  knew  that  he  made  him  a  better  fighter.  

while  attending  the  shadowhunter  academy  in  idris,  near  alicante  where  he  was  born  and  raised,  he  formed  an  organization  called  the  circle.  initially,  the  circle  was  founded  to  protest  the  antiquated  views  of  the  clave  and  the  consul.  they  were  young  voices,  all  ambitious  and  hungry,  and  longed  for  a  world  where  they  could  be  better  than  the  generation  before.   they  wanted  to  reform  the  downworld  —  and  the  accords  —  and  forge  a  new  and  better  world.   everything  changed,  however,  after  valentine’s  father  was  murdered  on  what  should  have  been  a  routine  werewolf  den  inspection.   his  mother,  shortly  after,  died  of  a  heart  attack.   grief,  valentine  would  say  to  anyone  who  would  listen.  grief  was  killed  her.  a  broken  heart.   their  deaths  changed  something  in  valentine.  he  hardened,  his  views  becoming  more  radical,  and  his  desire  to  reform  the  downworld  turned  to  a  hatred  for  all  downworlders.  he  saw  them  all  as  demons,  as  creatures  that  masquerade  as  humans,  and  if  they  couldn’t  be  controlled  they  needed  to  be  eradicated.    

as  the  circle  began  to  grow  in  power,  valentine  started  experimenting.  first,  on  himself,  and  then  later  on  his  unborn  children.  when  injecting  himself  with  demon  blood,  or  angel  blood,  he  saw  temporary  changes  to  his  strength,  powers,   etc,  but  because  he  was  an  adult  they  never  lasted.    he  figured  that  if  he  experimented  on  a  child  before  their  birth,  he’d  have  a  better  chance  of  bringing  about  the  strongest  generation  of  shadowhunters.   he  married  jocelyn  and  fed  her  demon  blood  while  she  was  pregnant.   he  did  a  similar  test  with  stephen  herondale’s  wife  celine,  with  angel  blood,  from  the  angel  ithuriel  that  he  had  bound  and  held  captive  in  the  cellar  of  their  house.  he  also  did  some  other  questionable  things  around  this  time.  when  lucien  turned  on  him,  his  parabatai,  he  put  him  in  a  position  where  he  was  bitten  by  a  werewolf.   they  fought  and  he  told  lucien  if  he  had  any  honor,  he  would  kill  himself.   he  didn’t  stick  around  long  enough  to  figure  out  what  decision  he’d  made.  as  his  parabatai  rune  faded  away,  inflicting  a  pain  worse  than  death  upon  him,  he  barely  felt  it;   his  humanity  was  so  far  removed,  it  was  like  he  couldn’t  feel  things  like  pain,  or  love,  anymore.    or  so  he  liked  to  think.

shortly  after  this,  the  uprising  was  planned.  the  circle  would  attack  accords  hall  when  the  accords  were  to  be  signed,  killing  all  of  the  downworlders  inside.  poised  for  peace,  none  of  them  would  be  prepared;  it’d  be  a  slaughter.   jocelyn,  disillusioned  by  valentine  at  this  point,  conspired  with  downworlders  to  put  a  stop  to  his  plan.  as  a  result,  they  were  prepared  for  the  assault  and  many  circle  members  died  during  the  uprising.  valentine,  sensing  defeat,  fled  and  faked  his  own  death  —  and  the  death  of  his  son  —  so  that  they  wouldn’t  come  looking  for  him.   he  also  kept  stephen  herondale’s  son,  jace,  and  raised  him  as  his  own  until  he  was  10.    

valentine  raised  his  own  son,  jonathan,  and  stephen’s  son  —  also  jonathan  —  and  compared  them.   he’d  experimented  on  one  with  angel  blood  and  the  other  with  demon  blood,  so  he  was  monitoring  their  progress  and  training  them  to  be  the  perfect  soldiers.  jace  was  too  weak,  despite  his  efforts  to  make  him  strong  and  sever  his  emotional  ties,  and  jonathan  was  too  violent.   neither  was  quite  right.   shortly  after  jace’s  tenth  birthday,  when  he  was  on  the  verge  of  discovery,  he  faked  his  own  death  again  and  jace  was  sent  to  live  with  the  lightwoods.  he  knew  maryse,  one  of  his  most  loyal  followers,  would  take  care  of  him.  

shadowhunters  season  one  &  two

18  years  after  valentine  went  into  hiding,  he’s  just  about  ready  to  make  his  comeback.   one  of  his  circle  members  spots  clary  going  into  a  club  which  is  his  first  lead  to  jocelyn  and  the  mortal  cup.   he  needs  the  mortal  instruments  so  that  he  can  make  his  own  army  of  shadowhunters  to  overthrow  the  clave.

long  story  short,  he  finds  clary,  gets  the  cup,  and  convinces  jace  to  go  with  him  in  order  to  save  his  friends.   sue  him,  the  kid’s  useful  —  with  a  little  needling,  he’s  sure  he  can  turn  him.   in  the  end  clary  rescues  him  and  he  loses  them  both  but  it’s  a  temporary  setback.   especially  once  he  tells  jace  he  has  demon  blood  and  that  clary’s  his  sister.   yes,  he  lied  to  manipulate  them.   he’s  not  in  the  running  for  father  of  the  year.  

the  clave,  as  predicted,  throw  jace  into  the  city  of  the  bones  when  he  returns,  they  wrongfully  assume  he’s  a  traitor,  that  he’s  siding  with  his  father,  and  valentine  uses  the  distraction  to  steal  the  soul  sword.   by  the  end  of  the  first  half  of  the  season,  he  manipulates  jace  into  activating  the  soul  sword  and  kills  a  room  filled  with  downworlders.   the  uprising  finally  comes  to  fruition.   he  leaves  with  the  soul  sword  but  gets  stopped  by  clary  who  nullifies  it.  

where  is  he  now?

the  portal  shows  up  moments  later.   he  steps  through  with  the  nullified  sword  and  the  cup,  one  mortal  instrument  short  of  the  set.   

he’s  not  too  concerned  with  the  fact  that  he’s  in  the  future.  he  has  the  mortal  instruments,  he’s  working  on  creating  more  shadowhunters  —  though,  admittedly,  they’re  not  turning  out  so  hot  these  days  —  and  amassing  his  army  for  when  the  time  comes.   clave  or  no  clave  in  this  new  world,  he  knows  the  list  of  his  enemies  is  a  mile  long.   once  he  finds  out  that  his  children  are  here  —  and  that  some  of  them  might  not  know what  he’s  done  yet  —  will  give  him  the  perfect  opportunity  to  turn  them  towards  his  favor.  

[tinymeatgang]

[jennifersbod]

#me after finishing season 4

[capinejghafa]

so you wanna start a war [½]

[bismoaking]

-i’ll stain your white flags red…

[rcisehclls]

truebloodedlightwood:

there were facts that could not be refuted, even if one tried desperately to do so. one of those facts was that jace was her son, and that heaven and hell could rain down on the world and maryse would allow no one to say otherwise ; but there was no denying that as much as she’d attempted to push it down, to ignore it, her baby boy was very much like his father. he always had been. watching jace grow up had been one of the greatest gifts the universe had granted maryse lightwood—— but it had also been like holding a bomb in your arms and having nothing but your faith that perhaps it wouldn’t explode to guide you ; as the years had passed, she’d seen it take shape, the ways that the son was like the father ; sometimes small, like their characteristic smirk, the way they held themselves, the way emotions could be concealed if needed be but never in their eyes. but sometimes jace had spoken and maryse had heard his father’s voice instead of his ; heard her son passionately spew his opinions in a way that imitated his father so perfectly it made her heart clench in fear.

her gaze was soft, comforting, her hands dropping down to rest on her child’s forearms—— keeping him close to her just in case ( … ) keeping him close because soon, there would be nothing she could do to make the pain go away. “jace.” her tone was hushed, quick ; she didn’t know how much time they had. “i heard him, and i understand you, i do. we need to do something, and we will, but do you hear yourself? give them a fight?”

her head shook once, wetting her lips and pushing away the parts of her that wanted to scream, that desperately wished to re-write history ( or at least keep it from repeating itself over and over again )—— still, there was an underlying harshness in her voice, passion of her own seeping through and twisting into words that she’d said once before, so many years ago. perhaps this time they would make a difference. “sweetheart, our acceptance, our ( … ) freedom isn’t going to come from fighting. making wars to fight wars is giving them a reason to be afraid of us, to want us gone—— are you willing to live with people’s blood on your hands? to kill just so that we can have our way? it’s not right.”

eyes closing for a second, maryse simply shook her head once more and took her son in her arms again, a hand moving up to rub his back like she did when he was small ; this wasn’t the time or the place for an argument, for a lecture—— perhaps the worst part of it all was that, for once, she was at a loss. there was nothing she could do now but be here, play her part, and hope that her family would make it out of this mess ; a mess that, ultimately, she had created. maybe not now, maybe not directly, but guilt was a funny thing and maryse was consumed by it. now more than ever, she knew that feeling wasn’t going away ever again. “i’m going to be with you every step of the way, cariño. i’ll be here. but you need to know this and,” words failed her as her head lifted to look at jace’s face ; the world around her slowing down as found herself delivering news she’d hoped she’d never have to speak. “the man who threw the party was… valentine, mi hijo. he’s alive.” and he’ll be here any second now.

{ @wcylnds }   { @truebloodedlightwood }

     valentine is the last to step out of the portal. it closes behind him as his feet touch the ground, hands coming out to brush off his dress pants as he strightens up. new recruits mill around the base as his followers hang back; let them get a a TASTE of what happens in the eye of the hurricane. he’ll address them soon. once sebastian and the others come through after the LEFT BEHIND have been taken care of. they were given a choice, offered the chance of a lifetime, and they chose the wrong side. what happened after that was on them and them alone.  he’d been merciful once; never again.

he sees them before they see him, which he’s grateful for. it gives him a moment to look at them now, up close, without the crowd obscuring his view. she’s as beautiful as the day he met her, raven hair cascading down her back in a red dress that reminds him of the lipstick she used to wear that STAINED the collars of his dress shirts. the feelings that used to swell inside of him whenever he saw her are dulled now, near nonexistent, but he  R E M E M B E R S  how they once felt, how his pulse would race, his judgement clouded, and how he’d vowed to destroy anything that might rip the smile off of her face. later he’d be the one to do just that, but that’s the beauty of memories; you can  ignore the parts you don’t like.  re-write your own story. beside her is jonathan; his second son, one whose vulnerability made him a liability. he’d broken the boy piece by piece and all the while watched as he cried, waiting for the moment he’d H A R D E N  himself, build up walls to protect himself.  he never had.  looking at him now, he wonders if he’s managed it. if the grotesque horrors in his life made him stronger, or if they left him more  D A M A G E D  than when he’d left him.

nevertheless, he approaches. he’d wanted them here when the levee broke, when everything he had been working towards from years came to a head, and now they were. it was a moment of triumph, one he’d revel in.  while he knew that they would recognize him at first glance, he believed that they’d respond to logic - they were  ALL on the same side now. they’d heard what he’d had to say, and they made their choice. they believed in this - believed in him, and they had taken that leap of faith. there was no turning back now.

    “i’ve never been one for  AWKWARD introductions. as it appears, your mother,” he pauses at that, lips twisting. it’s debatable if someone can be called a mother when they’ve  STOLEN the child that they raised, but it wasn’t as if he’d raised a hand to stop her. no, he allowed her to take jonathan because he’d considered him a  L I A B I L I T Y.  but today he’d stepped through the portal; perhaps this was the start of a new beginning.  “...seems to have done so for me.”  he says as he comes up from behind them, feeling a wave of an unreadable emotion rolling off of his son in waves. he’s no empath; feelings are foreign to him, but whatever jonathan is projecting was STRONG, and a mystery to him. it’s not a sensation he enjoys.  “so let’s not pretend that this is something that it isn’t. it’s been a long time... jonathan, maryse.” his lips twist into what could pass as a smile, though there’s something dark about it; something OFF.  “i’m glad to see you. both of you. in spite of our differences, i think you’ll both agree.. this is bigger than any one of us.”

[fantasticcursedharry-deactivate]

I think you cannot root out love entirely. I think where there has been love, there will always be embers, as the remains of a bonfire outlast the flame.

Gwyn The leader of the Wild Hunt. Lord of shadows, chapter 20, Evermore. (via fantasticcursedharry)

[dasyjohnson]

[rcisehclls]

eldestmorgenstern:

  aggravation at his awakening brewing within his bones, bringing himself up off the mattress to sit up straight. the knowledge he will have to report his progress beckons him to throw the covers off. pulling on a shirt and the pants from the evening before. progression was presently at the desired pace. his growing relationship with clary built a bridge, as did his endeavours with jace. almost seamlessly involving himself within their lives. disguising his motives with finesse. years of training. 

“father.” greeting his father,  his teacher, his superior as such. posture rigid, shoulders straight. ever the good soldier. “the plan is working. i think jace will co-operate if pushed; he’s already unknowingly a supporter for the cause. equality for all mutants.” jaw tensed, looking over the operation that was alive all through the night. through the years, slowly gaining precedence. their time was coming. “and clarissa - thinks i’m her new boyfriend.” glib in his small, perverted victory. HE WOULD DO WHATEVER THE CAUSE REQUIRED.  @rcisehcll​

        things were not moving as QUICKLY as valentine would have liked. they’d spent more than a decade carefully crafting their plan, ensuring that the PLAYERS were in the  e x a c t  positions of power they needed to be in, and now - now, after years of  PATIENTLY waiting, everything was falling into place. or at least he’d assumed it had. now, with his son standing before him, he wasn’t quite so sure. 

      ❝ sebastian. ❞  his voice is as cool as steel, his face betraying no emotion as he straightened up, eyes boring into those of his eldest son as he resisted the urge to  SIGH.    did he have to do EVERYTHING himself?  ❝ jonathan knows where he belongs; it’s your job to persuade him to make a move. we’re not pushing anyone into anything; we give them the INFORMATION to make the RIGHT decision. ❞  his jaw ticked, eyes flashing momentarily as he brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. 

                              how had he managed to raise a COLLECTION of disappointments? 

  ❝ i asked you to get close to clarissa but this was not what i had in mind. ❞  he took a step closer and gripped sebastian’s shoulder tightly, touch bruising as he peered into the confines of his mind. he saw glimpses of sebastian and jonathan talking - the latter laughing at something that the former had said, and a flash of bright red hair { too similar to her mother's } and lips pressed together. he pulled back with a scowl, twisting and shoving his son back as bones cracked beneath his fingers and he hit the wall. ❝ stop playing house, sebastian. get it DONE.  unless you’re not up to the task? ❞  it was a form of persuasion he’d used many times. his son was nothing if not consistent - insinuating that he  c o u l d n ‘t  do something only left him more compelled to prove him wrong. it was something he and his brother shared in common, though sebastian possessed less WEAKNESS ; it made him the perfect soldier. 

[truebloodedlightwood-blog]

battlefield { *:･ﾟ✧ flashback.

[rcisehclls]

truebloodedlightwood:

the ’ allegory of the cave ’ —— men who saw only shadows cast across a burning fire, no knowledge of an existence out of the darkness they’d grown accustomed to until they day one of them leaves. he doesn’t want to. he’s angry, in pain, the sun burns his eyes—— but slowly, he realizes that he’s been living a lie : there is so much more to the world than what he thought was true, so many layers he’d never been aware of from the comfort of his cave. everything opened up to him, the world shifted ; everything he’d ever known replaced by reality. plato was on to something when he’d written such a story.

looking at valentine now was like staring at the sun for the very first time. it stung, threatened to blind her forever —— but she saw reality. she saw him.

it’s funny how you see only what you choose to, funny how she’d seen softness where now she only saw harshness ; how the eyes that looked at her seemed foreign, the way he held himself making her angry for the first time in her life—- the demand in his voice making pure rage swell up inside her like a way about to crash on the shore. maryse had always seen the charm, the attitude of someone who knew his worth too well and used it in his advantage : it was compelling, intriguing, kept her gravitating towards him regardless of whether she wanted to or not. not once had she felt he’d treated her like someone who was below him. not once had she felt he looked down on her.

now she noticed it all at once and it made everything inside her burn.

for a second, she wondered how she could ever fall in love with someone who radiated cold. then she wondered how she’d never seen it before ; noticed the spark in his gaze that wasn’t quite right, the shift in his voice that said ’ you’re my property, and you must answer to me ’ ( … ) maryse had thought it was a joke. it didn’t sound like one anymore.

but one thing she knew, as her upper lip twisted in disgust despite her attempts at keeping herself composed ; eyes hardening as she took valentine morgenstern for who he was. a man who didn’t see others. a man who used and abused everyone he felt he had any type of claim over, who didn’t care about anyone but himself. it made her sick to her stomach. looking at him made her sick. and while she knew she loved him, she was also aware of the hatred that slowly ran cold in her veins, wrapping itself around every moment, every memory she’d ever had of him. it felt terrible and perfect at the same time. it made the pain numb, even if just a little bit.

                 hating   valentine would   always   be easier than   loving him.

“you have no more business being inside my mind than you do being in my room. i’ll do whatever it is i want to do.” her voice was ice and fire all at once ; she wouldn’t let him see how her heart was bleeding, but she had no problem with him hearing how little she cared about him right now, with him noticing how the sight of him disgusted her or how she wanted him as far away from her as possible. maryse looked him up and down once, making sure that her eyes met his before she spoke again ; hands clenched into tight fists as she fought her own emotions —— she knew someone like her would never truly hurt someone like him. this was ( … ) nothing to him. she was nothing to him. but by god he’d know she felt nothing for him, even if it was a lie. “leave, valentine. go home to your wife.”

               valentine morgenstern was not a man who was often caught off guard. people were open books to him; no secret left unturned, no lie left undetected when spilling from unsuspecting lips.  so to hear maryse say the very words that sent chills down his spine and left him shocked into silence, it was a SURPRISE. not that his face would betray such an emotion. there might have been a flicker of something in his eyes, a flash of something that could almost be identified as REGRET but it was gone as soon as it appeared. { never to be seen again. }   ❝ ah, so you know. ❞  in a time where disaster lurked around every corner, every phone call could be the very one that shook him to his core, this seemed like such a TRIVIAL matter to waste their time on. his father had been abducted - the cause was on SHAKY grounds. they needed to be focused; they needed to be in sync, as they always had been. 

for so long, valentine had been playing the ultimate game of chance. he’d married jocelyn in secret months earlier at a vineyard owned by her parents. it had been a small, simple ceremony, and they’d agreed not to tell anyone that worked with them. a division of church and state, he’d called it. && for the longest time, that had been the truth. while jocelyn and maryse were friends he’d trusted his once fiancée now wife would keep her lips tightly pressed and her  SECRETS close to the chest.  that luck he’d counted on so resolutely had turned against him; now, there was nowhere left to hide. his shoulders squared as he maintained her gaze; he would not be the first one to break that hold. who knew if he’d ever be granted the luxury again. 

maryse trueblood was a formidable woman. she was as strong as she was sharp, and the cool edge of anger simmering within her was written plain as day in the storms of her eyes. if he’d le her, she’d tear him limb from limb; watch in a horrified kind of satisfaction as he bled out under her heel. if he were a lesser man, maybe he would have let her.  he’d taken to her instantly the moment they’d met all those years ago and had kept her close by his side ever since. were it not for her family, well, perhaps their story would have had a very different ending. nevertheless, this wasn’t a moment he’d prepared for or anticipated - his ego having recklessly assumed that he was untouchable. that she’d never discover the truth.  he’d been WRONG. 

    ❝ this is usually the moment where the scorned lover lashes out at the man who betrayed her, and he begs for forgiveness as he falls to her feet. ❞  valentine explained, his words as smooth and thick as always, though with a hint of an edge to them.  a desperate man clinging to life in the desert will reach for the few drops of water that will save him... even if he knows they’re out of his grasp. it’s human nature.  ❝ i won’t do you that disservice. you and i - we’re above such theatrics. we always have been, haven’t we? ❞ his words are compelling and his gaze softens, though whether it’s genuine of  F A B R I C A T E D  is impossible to tell. even to him.  ❝ i know you’re upset. let’s talk about this. jocelyn may be my wife, and she may have my name, but she - it’s all a means to an end. surely you understand. for our kind to survive, for us to THRIVE in a world we’ve been cast out of, it’s more important now than ever to strengthen our numbers. ❞

         he pulled back momentarily, a hand poised to settled itself on her hips.       ❝ you and i - we’re electric. fire & ice ; chaos. it’s better this way.  ❞                           he doesn’t need to say the words that echo in the silence between them.       

        <<  IT WOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN YOU. >>