we're not kids anymore.
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
cherry valley forever
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AnasAbdin
Origami Around
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oozey mess
DEAR READER
if i look back, i am lost
Keni
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
trying on a metaphor
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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@valentinusluciferum
He reaches out with stiff, aching limbs and he grabs her at the throat, pulls her close so he need only whisper. He forms words with some difficulty, with a dry tongue and chapped lips. The only mercy is that he does not smell of decay.
“You will tell them.
Ｙｏｕ ｗｉｌｌ ｌｉｇｈｔ ｔｈｅ ｆｉｒｅｓ ａｎｄ ｒｅｋｉｎｄｌｅ ｔｈｅｉｒ ｆｅａｒ ａｎｄ ｒｅｍｉｎｄ ｔｈｅｍ ｗｈｏ Ｉ ａｍ.
You will tell them I am coming.”
That awkward moment when you resurrect your evil father. We've been there, Clary. (Not really.)
Casual reminder that I stalk all of you via The Mundane's Institute. Also, I miss Valentine. Carry on.
— So, evidently my big come back was a failure. I replied to the resurrection thread but no one from before my hiatus has contacted me about threads or plots. The fandom, if at all possible, seems to have gotten even smaller. I’m at a bit of a loss, especially when I have other accounts which are more active where I could be spending my time. Hmm, well, there are a few of you who know my skype and can reach me if you're so inclined. Otherwise, I'm not sure how to continue with this blog presently.
-- Looking for an AU with a Jace where Jace was raised by Val (and I totally play Jace and have an AU where this happens but hey, why not write the other side of it?)
Voltaire, “I’m Sorry”
send me anons that help me explore my character's motivations and inner most desires gogogogo
-- Look how cute big, bad Valentine is. Come love me.
"Valentine?" Jocelyn asked as she entered his study, shocked over just how easy it had been for her to get pass his guards. "can we talk?"
[Circle Era?] Valentine looked up from the books strewn on his desk and he smiled, standing. “Of course, my love. You have my full attention, I’ve just finished.”
(I was thinking AU but alright) she walked across the room and wrapped her arms around his neck. “i heard Michael and Robert talk about a hunt tonight. and i were wondering if i was allowed to come”
[Sorry, couldn't tell from the anon v.v]
Valentine collected her against his chest, enjoying having her in his arms. Such moments seemed rare as of late. He considered her request quietly and then kissed her cheek. "Hm, if you'd like, of course. You could teach some of our newer members a thing or two about putting down rabid animals." Valentine replied, clearly amused at the idea.
"Valentine?" Jocelyn asked as she entered his study, shocked over just how easy it had been for her to get pass his guards. "can we talk?"
[Circle Era?] Valentine looked up from the books strewn on his desk and he smiled, standing. "Of course, my love. You have my full attention, I've just finished."
-- The problem with picking up threads weeks later is that I lose the flow, argh.
Take heed, the violent march is closing in, You can't defeat them on your own. Weapons are loaded for the final stand, And they're all aimed at you from heaven!
Blood is spilled while holding keys to the throne, born again, but it’s too late to atone. No mercy from the edge of the blade, dare escape and learn the price to be paid, let the water flow with shades of red now, arrows black out all the light. Death is riding into town with armor, they’ve come to grant you your rights. Hail to the king, hail to the one, kneel to the crown, stand in the sun.
---- Libera Nos a Malo.
Only you can do this. But God, she didn’t want to.
❝ N-No. ❞
Her weak voice was indistinguishable over the roar emitting from the gaping fissure breaking apart the room. The concrete floor cracked beneath them as the room turned hot, the air heavy and stinking of sulfur. They’re screaming, Clary realized as she was pulled to her feet, battling the dark fog trying to swallow her whole. At first, the shrieking sounding nothing more than a soft hum, but the longer the portal remained open, the sharper the noise got. Mixed among the treble was the sound of a thousand souls screaming in agony.
❝ Oᴍɴᴇs ʀᴇʟɪɴǫᴜɪᴛᴇ sᴘᴇs, ᴏ ᴠᴏs ɪɴᴛʀᴀɴᴛᴇs. ❞ a b a n d o n h o p e , a l l y e w h o e n t e r h e r e ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ ᴍᴏʀɢᴇɴsᴛᴇʀɴ
The nefarious chant fell from her lips without comprehension. Voice low, as if lost in a dark trance - weak but evident - were whispered, escaping mindlessly through cracked lips, but it was enough. Fingers - dark spectral shadows of the damned - reached for their interlocked hands, hungry for life and desperate for warmth. Clary could feel them on the other side brushing against her, wanting to pull her in to share in their torment, and it forced a choked sob from her. She felt it. It was only a taste - a brief glimpse of the hellish anguish waiting below - but it was enough to scar her soul. She felt their pain, their sadness and despair and she sagged against Leto, her strength failing.
This was the darkest of magics - b l o o d m a g i c - and she was responsible for it. Clary’s mind was shattered, memories disconnected and scattered, but she knew her hands was stained in all this. Her head might not remember the murders, but her heart did, as did her soul. She could still feel the mess on her fingers and hands, drying and caking along her knees and legs. Amelia’s blood, her own…and then there were the many faces haunting her whenever she closed her eyes. They were screaming. Terror hindered her. Mind broken, soul bleeding, and body weak, she felt no more than a helpless child. Thoughts of her mother raced into her mind and she tasted salt on her lips. She thought of Jace and his light and warmth, and almost screamed with sorrow. There was blood on her hands. She was drowning in it. What would her mother say if she knew? And Jace, would he-
Would you leave me if I told you what I’ve done?
But the dismal thoughts were cut short when an angry explosion ripped through the room. As if brought on by the wrath of God, it threw both women into the air, tearing them apart. The force of the blast felt like a punch in the gut, knocking the air from Clary’s lungs, and when she landed on the ground seconds later, body in brutal agony, she was left squirming and struggling to breathe. There was a high pitched ringing which filled the air, drowning out the sound of everything else, and Clary lay, staring blankly up at the dark ceiling as her mind swam in and out of consciousness.
❝ My name’s Leto. Twelve. A gift, from your father. Eleven. It’ll get easier, I promise. Ten Breathe Clary. You’re doing fine. Nine. He deserved it. They all do. Eight Just make it quick. She won’t feel anything. Seven You’re mother. Maddening, isn’t she? Six Half way there. Five I’m the only one you can trust, Clary. Four There is no one else to run to. No one to help you. Three Don’t start fighting me. Not when we’re so close. Two The Clave will kill you. One.
The cracking walls gave way and memories best left lost swarmed. The compulsion had been powered by the ancient locket, and as the atrocious thing burned away into ash, so did the veil inside her head. Clary fell victim to the gruesome details, left immobile against the cold concrete floor, momentarily forgotten. The memories pressed down - choking, suffocating - but not once did she make a sound to express her horror. Empty jade eyes stared up towards the heavens, seeing without seeing, and while her expression remained lifeless, her tears never stopped.
So much blood… And it was all on her hands.
She had killed them, all of them. Leto had helped, but it had been she who had slit their throats and finished the job. The blonde woman had only watched with a growing look of sick, twisted satisfaction darkening her eyes. How…? How could she have done this? How could she have forgotten!? Her soul - she could feel it inside of her - and it felt as if it had been ripped apart. It was scarred and disfigured beyond repair. There was no way she could fix this. Please, help me. She had to fix this. But the blood had been spilt; the lives stolen and she was to blame. You are a murderer. I didn’t- I didn’t want this! Just like him.
Drowning in dismay, the redhead forced her head to turn. Her neck was stiff, but she had to see. Her mind kept repeating one name, over and over again. ᴀᴍᴇʟɪᴀ. She was just a child, a little girl with brown pigtails, who had been stolen from her home and dragged to this hellish place.
❝ You’re safe here. I promise. I want to go home. Can you take me home now? Soon. ❞
She had screamed at first - a whimpering mess with tears and snot on her dirty face - and then the brave little thing tried to run, but Clary’s strike had been fatal and she had bled out as she tried crawling away, smearing a bloody trail against the floor. Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down, clenching her fists in disgust. The blood was still on her hands - her blood - and Clary almost screamed, but when she turned her head, she was shocked to find all evidence wiped, as if it never happened. How she wished that could be true.
The skin above her heart pulsed and burned and she parted her lips to let out a silent scream. It was alive; the mark burned with life and if she still had the dagger, she would have tried cutting the hideous thing away. Once more, she swam in and out of consciousness, but her eyes snapped open when she felt hands lifting her up. Voice lost, heart broken, mind shattered, and soul tattered, the Morgenstern girl was forced to rely on Leto’s aid in order to walk and when she stepped away, Clary sagged to her knees. Her hair hung in her face, down her shoulders and back, curled and as bright as the blood on her hands and arms and legs.
And then she looked up.
❝ …no. ❞
Please, no. No. No. No!
Anger swelled in her chest; boiled in her stomach and a hate so fierce it frightened her darkened the expression on her freckled face. Still on her knees before him, she clenched her fists and glared with malice.
ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ ᴍᴏʀɢᴇɴsᴛᴇʀɴ
❝ I will kill you for this. ❞
For what you’ve done. For what you made me do.
❝ I promise you. ❞
❝I'm afraid you won't be killing me, Clary, not anytime soon. Not unless you wish to join me on the other side. Our family is reunited and I wouldn't have all your hard work gone to waste.❞ The words were spoken softly, matter of fact, parent to child. Leto, silent now for her immediate duty had been completed, crouched beside Clary.
❝Come Clary, get up. You're filthy and cold.❞
One of Leto's hands was different. It was cool to the touch, as if the ice of the void had not left her. It was cold and it was an of color, ashen and older looking. A stark contrast to the rest of her, young and beautiful. She payed no attention, though her fingers seemed stiff as she hauled Clary up under her shoulder. She used her good hand to stroke Clary's curls from her face.
❝Don't be rude, Clary, aren't you glad to see your father again? It is an honor. It had to be you. If I could have, I would have done the dirty work, saved you the trouble, Clary, but you are your father's daughter. It had to be you. Blood for blood.❞
Valentine stood silently, observing, before he reached out and tilted Clary's chin up. For any struggling, Leto was, as always, surprisingly strong. ❝I have returned, thanks to you. You were the key, you know. None of this would have been possible without you, so in the end, of all my children, you are the most important.❞ He mused, shrugging lightly, and thumbing some grime from Clary's chin.
❝You must be exhausted. A ressurection. It has never been done, Clarissa, not until now. You are truly magnificent. Leto has taken good care of you. The...collateral damage is most unfortunate but I assure you, in time, you will see what the sacrifice of the few can bring for the many.❞ Valentine murmured fondly, a smile playing across thin, pale lips, eyes glassy, and slightly unfocused.
His voice never raised above a murmur infact, as if the effort was too much. Standing, talking - it was draining. He required rest, as he was sure she did. Valentine was not in the position to hide his current state, not starving and dehydrated and cold, suffering loss of blood from the ritual. Leto spoke up, evidently done mothering Clary for the moment.
❝We should leave this place, Valentine. The Sanctuary is prepared, but our presence here will not be unnoticed. The Clave and their pet Warlocks will descend upon us when they are alerted of the residual magic.❞ Leto spoke gently, though with confidence that had been lacking before then. She stood straighter, supporting Clary, expression imperial. In the presence of her master, her messiah returned to her, she glowed with pride.
All others had forsaken him, all others had abandoned him, but not Leto. Leto alone had been chosen for such a task, to preserve Valentine Morgenstern and his legacy, to prepare for his return to their world, where she would stand beside him. The Sanctuary was a place where they would be safe, with all the comforts of home, warded by spells and runes against discovery. One could only reach it by knowing where to look and it would offer rest and safety for father and daughter.
Valentine, though never fond of being told what to do, simply sighed and looked around. ❝Yes, yes, I suppose you're right. Take us to the Sanctuary and then prepare for the next stage. My loyal, beautiful Leto. You have done well.❞ He offered her wolfish praise from a sharp tongue in a tight tone but she seemed content with it. For a moment, the trio stood in the silence. It was deafening. Clary's breathing and the creaking of the structural damage. The buzz of fluorescent lights and the smell of damp and blood.
Leto's smile never left her face, perpetual and manic. She looked down at Clary.
❝One more rune for us, darling? We don't have a warlock handy. I'll do the driving, you just need to unlock the car, hmm? Please and thank you. If you try to put us anywhere else, I'm afraid everyone will find out what you've done here and you won't be any better off than we are.❞ Leto pressed a stele into Clary's hand and, like a child learning to paint, guided her arm with her own. Valentine rested his hand heavily on Clary's other shoulder and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling like he needed another very long nap.
First and foremost, some housekeeping.
My Clary has been waiting long enough for her father to arise from the dead. Okay, I am sure she would rather he hadn't but alas. So, first on my agenda between work and whatever else is a reply to thisbrokenbird so that we may continue to torture one another with feels. And gore. I will be mass deleting my ask box, so if anyone started a thread before my hiatus and would like me to reply still, please message me (Sorry to be a pain but the askbox is full of deactivated blogs and shit so). Otherwise, yes hello, come say hi, I don't bite.
PSA.
Hello, friends. With my exams over, I begin to set out to whittle down accounts I have not been using or will not be using in the near future. The holidays are upon us, but that is stressful all on it’s own, especially for those of us working retail and making minimum wage. I do, however, miss Jace. This fandom is tiny but it’s growing and I don’t want to miss out on that. I’m proud of my Jace, my plots and my writing and I love being able to share him with people who have expressed interest.
However, I currently run two, maybe three other active blogs. That doesn’t account for the slow ones which I find myself on less periodically but which still factor into how I balance my time rping and my life. I felt very overwhelmed when I stepped away. Despite announcing my hiatus only like a week ago, my lack of productive rping started before that. I was, for one, overwhelmed by the love and support for my Jace blog. (As a side note, the failure of my other TMI blogs was most disheartening).
Secondly I felt overwhelmed with that I perceived to be expectations put on me. I am sure no one had any intentions in doing so. In fact, many of you were patient and kind and I needed that. I let you down because I asked for plots and threads and did not follow through. Anyway, I felt like I was being asked to carry everything: to do greeters and starters and to come up with plots and ideas, to keep things moving etc.
As I intend to ATTEMPT a return to this blog, I am very, very anxious. This is a blog which I love, a character with whom I feel connected, and a fandom that is small and full of good people. But I balk at the idea that it will be a one way street, that I will feel the weight of these perceived pressures, even if they are only in my head. I know people have moved on, new blogs have popped up etc.
As cathartic as it is to write this, I have little faith that anyone will read it. Nonetheless, I want to try again so. Please be aware of my situation and be gentle. Throw me an ask to plot, or if I owe you.
Thank you, Megan
“I had a little talk with mysef, ‘I said, I have to stop taking these roles where I am just the chick that is throwing herself at the leading man. No disrespect to that role, but I have kind of done it.”
