Moonbeam: A Timeline series companion

shadowhunter character study!!

content warning: this is kind of a vent, bc shadowhunter is a really good vent character and i didn't get a lot of sleep last night. obviously, contains mentions of trauma, self-destructive behaviour, and passive suicidality. yes i am ok, don't worry, just feeling emotions right now. :,)

(wrote this a while ago, needed a while to let all the feelings sit so i'd feel comfy posting it, but i think i'm in a coherent enough headspace i can handle this being up on the internet)

Oh, lightning girl. You spark with electricity, you burn and crackle and hope. You conquer every piece of your tattered flesh, mould yourself into a weapon until you don't recognize that wicked, sharp thing you see in the mirror. You'd be surprised if you make it past eight years old.

You've walked the tightrope your whole life, you know? At any given moment, you are this close to slipping out of control. You have followed your father's footsteps, fossilized in mud. You feel your mother's incessant worry slither through your bones. You are a testament, a sob story, a catalogue of broken hope. But that's never what they wanted, you know?

Because once upon a time, you were sweet, and soft, and innocent. You were weak and naive, a sparking daydream with little wings and a butterscotch heart. You were loved. You were so fucking loved. They held their breath for you, they stayed up waiting, they painted the stars one by one onto your bedroom ceiling, and maybe in another lifetime, you might have known how to accept it. Drink it up like honey. But these days, their love stings like salt in a wound. It sets your belly on fire, smoke pouring out of tired, sleepless eyes. If you met yourself in a dark alley, you'd run the other way.

And when you look at what you used to be, think back on the foggy memories of a time before, you barely recognize that girl you used to be. You are sharp, and you are strong, scrubbing blood off clean scales until you go numb, numb, numb, as faces flicker through your mind. Doesn't it get tiring, love? Don't you want to lie down on that mountain, and let the avalanche bury you? Don't you want to set yourself ablaze, don't you want to see the fear in their eyes, don't you want to scream in your mother's face, just as battle-weary as your own, that you don't want to get better, you just want Dad to come home. Don't you hate how much she loves you? Don't you feel like a wounded animal as you watch her go?

You remember what he told you, all those years ago. Just be strong for me. Just be brave. Just hold on a little longer, love. 'Cause you were small, and soft, and innocent, and you didn't know. But you've been strong, and you've been brave, and you've held on for so long. You have boiled with rage and injustice, you have clenched your fists and held it in, you have grieved slowly, for years and years on end. You have set yourself ablaze and you have relished the taste of smoke, you have found beauty in self-destruction because it's all you've ever known. 

And now he is home. And you are not dead. And there is blood on your talons you will never be able to forget.  Now he tells you that you are safe. Now you watch from a distance as your childhood goes up in smoke. Now your throat aches with yearning, and you would give everything just to see your parents, alive, flesh and bone. 

'Cause my darling, don't you count off the calamities every night? Don't you sand away sharp edges, and try to control your temper, 'cause you can't lose anyone else to your own wrath, and vengeance? Isn't it dirty, hard work--the slog of getting better? Doesn't the weight of this grief get exhausting to carry, day in and day out?

Be strong for me, sweetheart.

For just a little longer.

Be brave for me.

Until you make it home.