#and magnus not always having his cats eyes like hes supposed to ??

[aleclightofmylifewoodbane]

i truly hate the show bc YOU GUYS DONT KNOW WHAT YOURE MISSING WHEN YOU WATCH THE SHOW BEFORE READING THE BOOKS

you dont know that magnus’ magic is the same striking blue as alec’s eyes

you dont know alec’s eyes are the same color as the ancestors of a family so intertwined with his

you don’t know that magnus sees ghosts in the blue of alec’s eyes

you don’t know magnus is two inches taller than alec

you dont know that alec loves that magnus is taller than him

you don’t know that they dated in secret for months

you dont know alec’s wardrobe is absolutely hopeless and he only wears years old worn out sweaters with holes in the cuffs and magnus loves it

you dont know that sometimes magnus wears his worn out sweaters

you dont know that they didnt get married for years until alec became consul and they could get married in warlock blue and shadowhunter gold under his new law

you dont know they have two kids, before they ever married

you dont know their first son is named after alec’s brother max, who actually died during the war

you dont know that max’s skin is blue, and his eyes are just a shade darker than alec’s

you dont know that alec loved one man so much he changed the world for him

[alexanderlightweight]

Can I suggest a fic where Alec slowly realizes that Magnus has vaguely catlike behaviors and can talk to cats?

it has been a bit but I had a lot of fun with this so thank you for sending it to me. I hope you are doing well and enjoy this!

<3 lumine

the way life flows

Magnus stretches out, limbs and muscles pulling and shifting and Alec watches, mouth suddenly achingly dry.

“Do you even have a spine?” He asks, trying to distract himself from the way Magnus’ shoulder blades arch and the bulging of his arms. Alec is supposed to be heading to the Institute, not completely distracted and thinking of calling in because his husband moves like molten adamas.

Magnus looks at him with confusion but clearly Alec’s face says more than enough about where his brain is, because then he’s laughing.

Loud and unrestrained, the way Magnus is in the morning before he puts on his tiger stripes — which is confusing because Magnus is a tiger, a predator, even without his stripes.

“Perhaps not, Alexander. Would you like to check and see?” 

Alec nearly walks into the dresser, the only reason he doesn’t is because Magnus’ magic helpfully stops him from hitting his hip on the sharp corner.

“I have a meeting. In half an hour.”

“And I have a portal?”

Magnus winks and Alec gives up being on time or even remotely looking put together when he shows up, inevitably late.

It’s his own fault as it is and really, the more time goes by the more Magnus reminds Alec of a cat.  Especially when his golden eyes go wide, the pupils large and encompassing and Alec always knows Magnus is going to get his way when he does that.

Magnus knows too.

He gets smug about it, pleased and proud too. A little jaunty pop of his heel as he walks that thrills Alec.

Because Magnus is happy to get his way and it's so very easy for Alec to give him that. Especially when he benefits just as much from things going how Magnus wants them to go. Magnus also understands the benefits of ignoring society and being selfish, in a way that Alec’s had beaten out of him.

Magnus has spent years learning his own worth.  The confidence that carries him throughout life is innate, that much is true, but Magnus has never let himself stagnate.  Magnus grows and consumes and creates and does it again and again without ever letting the core of himself change even as he adapts and the world tiredly rolls past him.

It’s mesmerizing, the entirety of Magnus and how incomprehensible it is to truly try and perceive him.

—-

“What did you think of the meeting?” 

Alec almost ignores Andrew, but that is a  horrifically stupid question to ask and Andrew isn’t completely useless so he turns to him with a sigh.

“If you could tell Lorenzo Rey that he doesn’t need to keep making up excuses to come to the Institute just to see you, and could in fact just ask you out rather than make useless appointments with me that just waste everyone's time. I would be thrilled.”

The room goes silent around them and then at least four bouts of laughter are quickly being stifled and Alec catches sight of a series of hand signs that let him know bets have been placed.

He ignores it because if Mirai allows it, he won’t interfere.  She knows what bonds his hunters together better than he.

“Sir?”

Andrew looks mortified, all red mottled skin and sad, limp curls and Alec really wishes he didn’t have to deal with this.

At least if Magnus were around Alec would have someone reasonable to talk with and someone gorgeous to look at.

“He’s not even the High Warlock anymore, Andrew. He forcibly retired after the third rift opened while Magnus and I were eloping, remember?” Andrew better remember because he’s the one who called Alec, interrupting said elopement. 

Andrew cuts off a sad, traumatized little whimper and Alec feels for him, he really does.  But at least when Magnus stops by to stare at Alec, he typically does so with actual purpose.  Or at least in a way that doesn’t waste time and resources.

Unlike Lorenzo Rey who decided to book three full hours of Alec’s time just so he could talk about art that Alec doesn’t like and drinks he doesn’t enjoy while looking longingly at Alec’s chief security officer the whole time.

This is the fifth meeting Alec’s had with him in two months and he is tired.

Of meetings and Lorenzo Rey and dealing with Andrew and Rey being very unsubtle to everyone but each other.

“Andrew, I had to get up four hours early to make this meeting. I have back to back patrols, a video-call with Idris and a counseling session with Mirai and her newest trainee.” Andrew winces, as does every other shadowhunter in the command center, “he talked about baroque paintings half of the Edom damned time, Andrew. The only paintings I’m interested in — baroque or otherwise, are ones of Magnus, ones Magnus painted, or ones of Magnus and I.  Do you see the problem here?”

Apparently Andrew did see the problem, or perhaps the sudden threat to either his or Rey’s continued wellbeing.  After all, if Andrew is the solution then he’s also the problem.

And problems can be solved rather easily.

—

“Darling, why do I have several fire messages from Lorenzo Rey asking me what kind of outfits shadowhunters are partial to? If shadowhunters are allergic to any kind of food or place?”

Magnus is perched — all elegant limbs and strong muscles — on the rail of the balcony.

He looks weightless, as if the wind goes around him rather than through or against him.

“He was my first meeting today.”

“Again?” Magnus eyes narrow, gold glinting as he glides off the rail and then stalks over to Alec.  His every movement looks like a threat made motion and Alec swallows in delight.

“I told Andrew to deal with it.” Which is a bit of an understatement, but Magnus doesn’t need to suffer to the same degree that Alec currently is.  

Magnus blinks slowly at him and then a smirk slowly spreads across his face.  Alec barely has time to brace himself before he’s pushed to sit on the nearby lounge chair and Magnus is in his lap.

Constantly Alec is reminded of the magic throughout the entirety of the loft, even on the balcony as the chair softens to ease his fall and widens to accommodate the stretch of his thighs as Magnus makes a space for himself on Alec.

“Then, it shouldn’t come up again.” Magnus nuzzles Alec’s jaw and Alec nods in agreement, eyes closing so he can enjoy the moment.

—-

 Alec isn’t quite sure what happened but he knows to stay put.

That’s the last thing Magnus had told him before the portal rippled around Alec.

He’d been firm, panic obvious in the flair of his magic yet he’d still managed to give Alec instructions.

Ones that Alec is going to follow because he does not want a repeat of that portal and he still doesn’t know what set it off.

It’s nearly an hour before he hears something, a little inquisitive chirp and he mimics the noise back instinctively.

It happens again and again and then there is a soft, tiny and warm body pressing up against his knee and then climbing — little paws dainty and somehow managing to find every bruise.

It settles against his chest and Alec blinks down at the small orange and white cat that has found him and apparently will be keeping him company. 

Time wobbles after that.

The shattered portal shards warp in a dramatic fashion as they ripple, invisible pebbles thrown into the chasm of their abyss.

The tracking magick that Magnus has on Alec is still working, that much he knows but Magnus must be having trouble pinpointing him.

It’s what makes the most sense and follows the logic of Magnus telling him to stay put.

The protection magick Magnus keeps on him has also activated, keeping the portal shards from interacting with him and also keeping Alec from being found by anyone other than Magnus.

Just to be careful, Alec also activated his anti-tracking rune along with a handful of others to prioritize healing and safety as he waited. Still, despite how calm and protected he feels — how can he feel unsafe with Magnus magic around him?

It is a bit lonely, especially since Alec’s fingers had finally known the joy of Magnus’ own hand holding his after a long night of work. The cat turns out to be welcome company, a trusted little companion who kneads Alec’s stomach, headbutts his chest and rubs his chin on Alec’s fingers.

Time passes slowly and it feels as if between one blink and the next he can see Magnus, tall and bold and brilliantly relieved as he kneels beside Alec.

“Hi— stayed like you said. Made a friend.” That’s about all Alec can manage with his head still swirling from the portal and all he feels is relief as Magnus finally pulls him close.

The whole thing is worth it, just to be able to cuddle with Magnus like this in the open, not having to wait until home.

“Oh yes, pure luxury.  Snuggling up the High Warlock in a Manhattan sewer. Completely risque behavior for a shadowhunter Commander.”

It takes a moment for Alec to realize that he must have said his thoughts aloud and he scowls against Magnus’ shoulder.

It’s hardly his fault that the best place to rest is Magnus’ arms.

Alec can make do with what they have and despite being a sewer, Magnus’ magic has kept the smells to a minimum and the climate stable.

“I’m taking you home, darling. But on foot. No more portals for you, not until you stop saying what you��re thinking.”

Alec starts to get up but then stops, looking at the little cat still purring away on his lap. 

“I asked him to find you. Apparently he liked how you smell and forgot to come get me in return for the fish.” Magnus bends down and gives a soft chirr before he hands over a piece of the mentioned fish. “But he did what he needed to do, in the end. I also attached a tracker to him.”

Because he had found Alec and Alec is happy to have had the company and there’s a moment where he even contemplates asking if they can take the cat home.

Except Magnus is eyeing the cat still in Alec’s lap with an increasingly annoyed look.  The same kind of look he gets anytime the balcony cats stay or cuddle up to Alec a little too long.  They’ve never overstayed their welcome in terms of food and shelter but Magnus can be a little territorial with Alec’s time, lap and attention.

Which actually, makes sense considering how similar Magnus can be to cats. Alec wasn’t aware that Magnus could talk to them, but it makes sense and is simply one more thing that makes Magnus incredible. 

Because Alec is perfectly happy to indulge Magnus as much as he in turn is indulged, he shoos the cat away. Then he offers Magnus his hand, lets himself be pulled up in a strong motion so fluid that it makes him feel as though gravity no longer exists.

“Wow.”

“You’re very cute like this.” Magnus is laughing at him, Alec can tell by the way his eyes have crinkled in the corner, his cheeks are flushed with life and he looks happy.

And that’s more than enough for Alec.

-

[littlebit-png]

Give that man a cat and make him cry about it.

just a one-shot about Jonathan Sims finding a kitten on his way to work and how it becomes the Archive Office Cat!

Word Count: 3,155 words

(PSA: As much as I understand the urge to bring a kitten into the workplace and be gay and sad about it, I do not condone Jonathan Sims' Actions. If you find a kitten somewhere without it's mother and it looks young enough to need bottle feeding, don't take it from where it is! You might separate it from its mother, who can usually raise it better than you can. Keep an eye on it from far away if you desire, but unless it's been several hours with no mother present, do not take it with you!)

Jon found the kitten on a terrible, rainy day. The rain wasn't unusual, it always rained here, but today was worse than he'd seen in a while.

It was just his luck, really. He had an umbrella, a very nice one in fact! But sometime in the past few weeks it just fucked off to god knows where and he was left to make his journey to the institute with just his coat in the pouring rain. A wonderful situation to feel sorry for himself, sure, but quite inconvenient when he was trying to get to work.

Just as he was sulking down the sidewalks, bemoaning how he'd be itchy all day after this, he hears it. A slight… squealing noise? It stops him dead in his tracks, something akin to fright bubbling deep in his stomach( he isn't paranoid, anyone would get spooked by something like that).

The sound came from an alley and he was perfectly willing to write it off as a rat and move on with his wretchedly damp day, until he heard it make a noise startlingly similar to a mew. Cursing his own curiosity, he ducked into the alley and scanned it for any sign of the noise.

"Hello?" He's not sure why he calls out to the empty alley. There were no people and anything else that could understand him was probably not something he would want to speak to. He is answered, however, by a squeak.

It's coming from underneath a cardboard sheet propped up against a dumpster. Approaching it with as much caution as he felt was warranted (wielding a pen from his pocket like a knife), he flipped over the cardboard to reveal what was underneath…

… only to be met with a tiny, shaking, and sopping wet kitten.

The poor thing was filthy. It's fur might have been orange, if not for the dirt and grime it was covered in. It stared up at him with tiny eyes, shivering from the cold, and his heart lurched.

Jonathan Sims was not a sentimental man. But when he tentatively reached out a hand to the tiny kitten curled up next to the dumpster and it cuddled into his touch, he just about melted.

That was how he found himself running through the streets of London toward the Magnus Institute in the pouring rain while clutching a shaking kitten to his heart.

He barely acknowledges anyone as he walks through the halls, keeps his head down, and most certainly does not tell them why his arms are folded like that. Of course, it's just his luck that when he walks through the door to the archives, Martin is already at his desk. He swiftly ignores Martin's friendly "Good morning, Jon!" and blocks himself inside his office, shutting the door behind him and ignoring how his stomach twinges with guilt as he sees confusion wash over his face.

Jon clears off whatever was on his desk, pushing aside whatever statement he was meaning to record today and pulling off his jacket, using it to bundle up the kitten and setting the whole bunch on the desk.

The kitten poked its head out of the bundle, calling out with a truly pathetic mew. The sound twists Jon's heart. What is he supposed to do know? He barely managed to eat his own breakfast this morning, what was he going to do with a kitten? When he was younger he had a cat, so he knew the basics of taking care of one, but this was a kitten. A baby cat! They need different things! And he didn't know what those things were!

He reached out to cradle the kitten in his palms, and found that his hands were shaking nearly as much as the kitten. He struggled to see the poor, grimy thing through his watery eyes(when did he start crying?) and his breath came in sharp, quick gulps. He couldn't do this. This kitten would die. This poor, innocent kitten would starve and die in his hands because he couldn't take care of it. It was his fault. Why couldn't he just walk past the alley? Surely somebody better would have come along("Jon?"), someone who knew how to take care of this shaking mess("Jon, you're shaking!"), someone who could stay calm for a goddamn minute to figure out what to do("Hey, hey, are you alright?"). Someone, anyone, except for—

"Jon!"

A hand(warm. warm and soft) lightly shakes his elbow and he flinches hard. His hands, still shaking, fly up to guard the defenceless kitten from… Martin?

Martin startled back, evidently not expecting Jon to look at him like the archivist was being hunted for sport.

"Sorry! Sorry. You just seemed off when you came in today and you've been in here for so long with barely a sound and so I came in to check on you and you were shaking and I got really worried and I—" Martin cut himself off, noticing the small scrap of fluff peering out from between Jon's fingers.

"Is that a kitten?"

Jon looked back from Martin to the kitten in his coat, staring at it like he'd never seen it in his life despite snatching it off the street barely an hour ago.

"I…" The words felt like sandpaper in his dry throat. "I found it on the way here."

Martin seemed weirdly alright with Jonathan bringing a kitten into the Archives. Together they tried to research what to do with it, which eventually led to Martin running to a nearby pet store to pick up kitten formula while Jonathan tried to give the poor thing a bath.

The sink in the break room of the archives proved a suitable bathtub for the kitten. With some dish soap and warm water, an article from a far-too-flowery website on how to bathe kittens, and half a clue of what he was doing, he managed to get the kitten clean enough. The website stressed how important it was to keep the kitten warm after it was wet, so Jon bundled the poor thing up in the softest towels they had and kept it settled firmly on a heating pad he kept in his office, one he used when his joints were particularly bothering him. He wrapped a spare sweater around the whole bundle and kept it cradled in his arms. He figured that was probably warm enough

The kitten was surprisingly fluffy. Once the dirt and grime was off it, it revealed an adorable orange and white coat alongside a light pink nose and a pair of bleary blue eyes. Jon cradled it in his arms, barely even moving until Martin came back with the formula.

"Awwww," Martin cooed at the kitten, who just stared up at him, blinking slowly, "Look at you all cleaned up!"

"It was a terrible process. I don't know which one of us hated it more." Jon groaned.

"Sounds typical for a cat. I wonder if it's hungry."

"I can't imagine it isn't."

"Well I found some formula at the store and the woman working there told me that a kitten this small should be bottle-fed, so I got one of those too. I can make some."

"Thank you, Martin."

Martin chirped a reply that Jon admittedly did not hear, entirely focused on the kitten. It had stopped shaking now that it was properly warmed up, and was kneading the dish towel it was rolled up in. What a wonder that something so small could still have claws that sharp.

Eventually, Martin came back with a tiny bottle full of milk and set it down on the desk. He pulled up a website on Jon's laptop, one of those flowery ones that Jon used to figure out how to bathe the damn thing, and found an article on how to feed it.

Jon hummed, rubbing a finger between the kitten's ears. "How old do you think it is?"

Martin looked between a diagram on the website and the kitten for a moment, "The website says it should be about two weeks old? See how the ears aren't quite… cat ear shaped?"

Two weeks. Logically, Jon knew that a kitten this small would have to be really young. But the reality that this tiny fluffy creature in his arms didn't even exist at the beginning of the month was… jarring, to say the least.

"Alright. So how do we feed this thing?" Jon looked up to find Martin staring at him. Martin, surprised at being caught, cleared his throat and looked back to the computer.

"Right. Yes. Feeding."

Apparently the way to feed this thing was to put on it's stomach and to sort of… bottle feed it? Like one might bottle feed a baby? Neither Jon nor Martin had ever fed a baby before and the website was being frustratingly vague about the whole ordeal.

"Just like. Take how you would normally feed a baby and then just.. rotate it!"

"I have never fed a baby before, Martin. That's the tenth time you've said that, now if you could just hush and let me figure this out—"

"Figure what out?"

"What about a baby?"

Sasha and Tim, finally arriving(really, they were on time, Jon and Martin just preferred to get there early these days), poked their heads into Jon's office. The difference between their reactions would have almost been comical if Jon wasn't fighting for his life trying to feed this poor hungry creature. Sasha's eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she looked absolutely bewildered while Tim's face lit up like a small child being given a mountain of sweets.

"Do we have an office kitten now?!" Tim was far too excited about the idea, and Jon honestly couldn't say he was opposed to it himself. The logistics of it, however, were far too complicated for him right now, so all he managed to choke out was a strangled "I don't know."

"Sorry to butt in," Sasha piped up from her place by the door, "But what was that about a baby?"

Martin explains the situation to Sasha. As much as he knew anyway. Jon hadn't actually told him much. They were trying to feed the kitten now, but couldn't seem to get it to 'latch' properly.

"The website says it's like feeding a baby, but neither of us have actually.. fed a baby before?" The last part wasn't truly a question, Jon noticed, but Martin had a habit of making his sentences sound like questions. It only recently started bothering him, not in the least because usually Martin was right about the things he was questioning.

Tim's eyes went wider, if possible. "I've got this." He snatched the bottle from Jon's hand(with much protesting from Jon) and knelt down in front of the kitten. "One of my friends had a baby like. Three years back and she let me bottle feed him a few times."

"That doesn't feel like a 'got this' level of experience." Jon's point was quickly waved off.

It took much arrogance on his part, much fussing from both Martin and Jon(moreso from the latter), and a few bewildered tips from Sasha, but the four idiots managed to get the kitten to latch. Much to Jon's chagrin and slight relief, though he would rather die than admit it.

Tim instructed Jon to take the bottle, the two of them doing an awkward pass without disturbing the kitten before he swiftly left Jon's office. To do what, Jon couldn't guess. He wouldn't try anyway. He was far too distracted with the tiny wonder taking place in his lap.

The kitten was evidently quite hungry. Dead focused on the bottle and no longer shaking, it was honestly one of the most adorable things he'd ever seen in his life. He barely even heard Martin and Sasha cooing at the kitten, only focused on how it's tiny ears twitched back every time it swallowed.

He only snapped out of his daze when a bright flash of light and the telltale sound of an iPhone camera shutter. Jon whipped his head up to see Tim standing in the door of his office holding up his phone.

Tim simply laughed at the withering glare Jon gave him.

Once the kitten was done eating, which took a surprisingly long time("How could such a little thing possibly eat that much?" Sasha marvelled as the kitten gulped down the last remaining formula.), it seemed quite content, bleary eyed and yawning(effectively immobilising four grown adults with how cute it was in the process). Jon had since set the bottle down on his desk, gently petting the kitten with one hand. It evidently thought that wasn't enough, as it wobbled and crawled(with surprisingly sharp claws) up the front of his shirt with a few pitiful mews. He reached up to cradle it, half to make sure it wouldn't fall and half to make sure that it wouldn't poke holes in his chest with the tiny razor blades attached to it's feet.

"Oh my god." Tim reached for his phone again but stopped at the look that Jon shot him. He had long since settled down on the floor, the group apparently deciding that Jon's office was where they were going to spend their day.

"I guess it's tired now?" Martin looked back to the website (actually a different one now, Sasha decided that the one they had found wasn't good enough). "I don't think kittens that age really stay awake for long stretched at a time."

"I can imagine it's quite exhausting, being that little." Jon mused.

"What should we name it?" Sasha had joined Tim on the floor a while ago. She fetched her laptop and was now doing her own research into taking care of a kitten.

"That's assuming we can keep it." Martin countered before shooting a hopeful look at Jon. Actually, all of the assistants where looking at him like a child begging to get a puppy(or kitten, he supposed).

He probably should have said no. The archives were no place for a cat, how could they possibly hope to take care of a kitten alongside all the other work they needed to do, and on top of all that, would they even be allowed to have an archival cat?

He should have said no.

Instead, he looked down at the kitten, now snuggled securely against his heart, and hummed.

"We'd have to name it something respectable, of course. I'll not have a kitten running around the archives with an absurd name."

Jonathan Sims was not a sentimental man, but he could feel an involuntary smile break across his cheeks at the looks of sheer delight that shone across the archival assistants.

The debate of what to name the kitten lasted forty-five minutes, until Jon kicked everybody out of his office so he could work. Of course, it didn't stop then and after several hours(and Tim being banned from suggesting names), the kitten was dubbed "Lieutenant Apricot", and he seemed quite alright with it.

Lieutenant Apricot needed to be fed a few more times throughout the day, all done by Jon, who was extremely unwilling to give up Apricot to anybody else. Any mentions of small mewing or purring in the recorded statement that day, or in fact any day following it, should be strictly kept to oneself.

Every so often somebody else would stop by Jon's office, mainly to see the Lieutenant. Martin stopped by most often, usually bringing a cup of tea or some sort of snack.

Nearing the end of the workday, Jon had gotten through everything he was likely going to finish in one day and took a moment to lean back in his chair and give some scratches to the kitten on his chest. He got up a few times throughout the day to reheat the heating pad, and the warmth combined with the bundle of fluff contentedly purring away next to his head was lulling him into a deep exhaustion(one that he was almost certainly feeling prior to this moment, but refused to acknowledge).

Lieutenant Apricot was quite pleased by all of this, basking in the warmth and affection he likely never received on the streets. The thought make an unfamiliar pang of sadness creep through Jon's chest. With London weather, especially during autumn, this poor creature had likely never known this kind of warmth.

Never Again. Jonathan Sims could not promise much most days, and he wouldn't desire to if he could. But to this tiny creature that stared up at him with those tiny blue eyes, he would promise that much. He'd keep Apricot safe, and warm, and happy…

…And based off of the shy mass of ginger curls peeking around his door, he wouldn't be doing it alone.

Lieutenant Apricot turned out to be a rather wonderful Archival Cat. He spent most of his time prancing around the offices, meowing at anything that caught his attention. He adored people, and very quickly they started having to supply the archives with lint rollers, as the Lieutenant grew into a shockingly fluffy cat that would take every chance to shed that fluff on the people working there. He'd also shed on people that came in to make statements, who often found it quite comforting to have a giant heap of fluff purring in their laps while they recounted some of the most traumatic events of their lives. Elias eventually found out about the Lieutenant when he came down to the archives for an unexpected visit and found the cat lounging on the edge of Sasha's desk. He pointedly turned the other way, electing to never mention the cat.

Though Apricot adored all of the archivists, his favourite was always Jon. Jon suspected it was because of that first moment next to the dumpster, when he elected to make one of the best decisions he made in years and brought him to the archives.

Jonathan Sims was not a sentimental man, but the warmth of Lieutenant Apricot curled on his lap, or around his shoulders and the ringing meow that he so frequently 'spoke' to the archivists with made the hells that this place put him through seem just a bit more manageable.

(AN: this is not only the first piece of fanfiction i've ever put online, but also the first piece of fanfiction ive ever written. so please be nice to me. please. hope you enjoyed! please talk to me about this podcast i am so normal about this podcast)

[quicksilver-castiel]

And finally they see Eye to eye

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims

Archive warnings: None

Rating: Teen and up

Summary:

When Martin goes on an extended weekend trip, that leaves Jon alone with the newest addition to their lives: Their cat Butterscotch. So far, the relationship between Jon and Butterscotch has been a little rocky. He isn't convinced that this weekend will change that, though for once he would be glad to be proven wrong.

Author's note:

This was written for @jonsimsandcats Day! Because there can never be enough stories with Jon and cats in them.

This is an AU and can technically be read as a continuation of In a cat's Eye, but all you need to know is that the boys are alive and well, still working for the Institute, and adopted a cat that's so, so normal, I prommy. :)

Read on AO3 or below the cut

“There’s stew in the fridge, and I bought those mini pretzels you like if you need a snack,” Martin said quickly as he put on his backpack. Jon watched him silently and patiently, knowing that he wasn’t done yet. “Oh, and there’s an open can of food for Butterscotch in the fridge as well, so don’t open a new one today. Um, there’s still some pizza in the freezer, but there’s also rice and veggies if you feel like cooking. I threw out the tuna because it was past the best before date and I know you always say it’s fine as long as it smells fine, but you really shouldn’t risk it.”

“Martin,” Jon interjected gently, trying to hold down a smile, “you’ll only be gone for three days. I promise I’ll manage not to starve.”

Martin didn’t look convinced. If anything, he just seemed more worried. “You’re very capable in a lot of ways, but historically, taking care of yourself has not been one of them.”

Jon rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that Martin was necessarily wrong. But he was being rude.

“I promise I’ll eat. And feed Butterscotch.” Jon grinned. “I know you would be more heartbroken if something happened to her than if it did to me.”

Martin scowled at him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, you’ve been spending a lot of time with her. When was the last time I got to sit in your lap?” Jon asked, raising an eyebrow.

He was teasing, of course. Mostly.

Martin’s lap was rather comfortable, and he enjoyed being fully enveloped by his fiance’s body, held tightly to his chest by big arms.

Which was rather difficult to achieve when there was a cat contentedly purring in said spot.

Martin huffed, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “At least try to get along while I’m gone, yeah?”

Jon shrugged. “I’m not the problem. Butterscotch simply isn’t a fan of me.”

“Well, it’s the perfect opportunity for you to get some bonding time in.” Martin checked his watch, and cursed under his breath. “Shit, I need to go. See you on Sunday.”

“Have a good trip.” Jon gladly accepted the goodbye kiss Martin gave him before turning towards the door. “Text me when you get there.”

“The internet might be spotty, but I’ll try to send something. Bye!” With that, Martin was out of the door, off to the great adventure of a hiking trip on the Western coast.

Jon sighed as he thought of the days ahead of him. He was meeting Georgie on Saturday for a few hours, but apart from that, he would be alone.

Well, there was Butterscotch.

Jon sighed again. This would be a long weekend.

Jon approached the cat tree slowly, broadcasting his intentions. Butterscotch had already noticed him, her ears twitching in his direction every time his cane hit the linoleum floor, but it took a moment for her to turn her working eye on him.

The other eye was gone, scars running over that side of her face where another cat had attacked her. There was some sort of poetic irony in two followers of the Eye adopting a cat who had lost one of her eyes, Jon thought, though he supposed that might have been part of what had drawn Martin to the little furball.

Butterscotch regarded Jon haughtily from the top of what Martin called her throne, which considering what they had paid for the bloody thing, wasn’t all too far from the truth.

“Well,” Jon said as he stopped far enough away from the tree for Butterscotch not to be able to claw him while sitting on it. “I suppose now it’s just us.” He raised the bag of treats he had brought, and shook it.

Butterscotch’s ears perked up, and she looked down at Jon’s hand.

Jon smiled. “Didn’t expect to get treats from me, huh? Well, Martin isn’t here to spoil you, so someone has to.”

Butterscotch kept watching, her one eye darting from the packaging to the little nuggets Jon shook out into his palm.

He spread a few of them out over the cat tree so Butterscotch would have to climb a bit to get them. Then he put a handful into the toy specifically designed to make it challenging to get them out.

Finally, he straightened again, looking up at the queen herself.

“Well?” he said.

Butterscotch’s tail moved slightly, visible beyond the platform she was lying on. Apart from that, she made no move to leave her throne.

“You’re a tough nut to crack, huh.” Jon took out a few more treats, then returned the package to its usual (cat-proof) spot.

Afterwards, he sat down on the sofa, and waited.

And waited.

Butterscotch had put her head back onto her paws, but she was watching him with slow blinks, as though she wasn’t quite sure yet what his angle was.

“You know, it’s good that you like him so much. If you didn’t, Martin would only be blaming himself for it,” Jon rambled. “But it wouldn’t hurt for you to trust me a little more, you know.”

Really, if Butterscotch hadn’t liked Martin, then she would likely still be at the shelter, and her name would still be Tart.

Jon wasn’t even sure why he was talking to Butterscotch in the first place. Maybe he was subconsciously trying to make her get used to his voice.

Or maybe he had simply been lonely since Martin had walked out the door. Oh, good Lord, that would be pathetic.

“Martin says that we're similar, but I don’t really think so.” Jon leaned his chin in his hand, his elbow digging into his good leg. “At least I didn’t immediately see how lovely Martin is, while you realised it seemingly at first glance.” Jon hummed. “Then again, when he first met you, he didn’t immediately start talking about a dog.”

Butterscotch's tail swished a little more erratically, and her little face seemed to scrunch up in distaste. Jon was probably imagining it. There was no way that a cat could have understood his words, right?

“Well, Martin isn’t always right. He keeps comparing me to cats, anyway, when I'm clearly human.” 

Butterscotch just kept blinking at him, looking unimpressed.

Jon pursed his lips. “Or something like it. No need to look so judgemental.”

Jon was arguing with a cat. Great.

Maybe Martin had been right to be worried about him, after all.

Sighing, Jon leaned back on the sofa, his eyes falling closed. After such a long time of being, and living, together, he supposed he had not just gotten used to Martin’s presence. Rather, he seemed to have become reliant on always having someone to talk to, and on the steady, warm presence of another body at his back, big arms circled around him…

Jon shivered, a sudden cold draft making him rub his arms. When he opened his eyes, hugging himself, he checked the window, but it was firmly closed.

Butterscotch didn’t move, but her ears flicked in the direction Jon looked, possibly alert in case Jon had seen anything she hadn’t.

Jon sighed. “Sorry, wrong alarm,” he said, getting up from the sofa.

It wasn’t a cold draft from outside, though it certainly didn’t help that spring was only coming around tentatively, where each warmer day was chased by at least three days of icy rain. It was already April, but Jon wouldn’t have been surprised if they would get sleet again.

Luckily, Jon was prepared to fight the cold, even all alone as he was. It was only a few steps to the bedroom, after all, where they had an entire wardrobe of warm clothes. Martin’s sweaters were always especially nice, big and soft, not unlike his hugs.

Before Jon could open the wardrobe, though, he spotted something on the neatly made bed. There was Jon’s pyjama on his side, of course, but also a purple patch of cloth on Martin’s side.

As he picked it up, Jon realised that it was one of Martin’s sweaters. The one he had bought a few years ago, a suspiciously short amount of time after Jon had told him that boysenberry was his favourite colour.

The sweater wasn’t quite boysenberry, but close enough. Jon ran a hand over the fabric, which was well-worn and soft. Martin had worn the sweater the previous day, and must have forgotten to put it in the hamper.

Jon was alone, he knew that, but he still sneaked a glance around the room before burying his nose in the sweater. It smelled like Martin, and tea, not that the latter wasn’t already inextricably connected to Martin in Jon’s mind.

Come to think of it, Jon could do with a cuppa. His tea was never quite as good as Martin’s, of course, though he could never figure out what he did wrong. Maybe it was just the fact that he had made it himself that caused his brain to interpret it differently.

After pulling the sweater over his head, Jon padded to the kitchen, where he put on the kettle. Butterscotch showed her face for a moment when the water started boiling, but withdrew quickly when she realised that it was not her beloved Martin making that familiar noise.

By the time Jon was carrying his mug into the living room, Butterscotch was munching away on the last treat from her cat tree. Jon still had a few treats in his pocket, but instead of coming to him, Butterscotch moved on to her toy.

Jon settled back on the sofa with his tea, one of their warmest blankets, and the book he was currently reading. Well, trying to read. The premise had sounded interesting enough, but Jon struggled to keep his focus, feeling like he had read something similar before, and appalled by the casual cruelty of some of the characters.

It was probably realistic, Jon thought, though that only made it more depressing.

Jon was scowling at yet another scene of two characters he cared little about making out when he felt a slight dip in the sofa next to him. Turning his head, he spotted Butterscotch, who had jumped up next to him to sniff at his sweater.

She meowed.

“It smells like him, doesn’t it?” Jon reached out to pet her, but Butterscotch ducked away. Sighing, he withdrew his hand, settling it on his leg.

Again, Butterscotch leaned in close, and sniffed at his wrist this time. Or at about where the wrist was buried under the long sleeves of the sweater. Jon had already pulled them up a little so his hands weren’t covered, but the fabric kept slipping back over his palms, leaving only his fingers pointing out of the bulging fabric like-

Jon swallowed, trying to chase away the comparison between his own hand and a spider. It didn’t work, not when the skin on that hand was still streaked with white lines like the fine threads of a spider web-

A loud meow pulled Jon out of his panicked thoughts. He looked at the cat, and something about her calm gaze and the relaxed movements of her tail made him realise that there was no danger here.

He looked down at his hand. It was just a human hand. Burned, sure, but it had — Jon moved his arm so the sweater pulled back from his thumb — five fingers. Not eight spindly legs which could have made it scuttle off into dark corners.

Jon shook his head at himself. The image of his hand moving on its own should have been ridiculous, not scary, he decided. He tried to imagine it like that hand from The Addams Family — Martin had shown him the films and the show from the late ‘90s. Jon vaguely remembered the show having been on air when he had been a teenager, but he hadn’t watched much television at the time, having been far too prone to wandering off.

There was another meow, and then a little nose brushed against Jon’s hand. Butterscotch sniffed him, and apparently decided this time that he was worth her attention, since she proceeded to rub her little head against his fingers.

“Martin has been gone half an hour, and already you’re lonely, huh,” Jon teased, and considered petting her. But he didn’t want to chase her off. “Well, I’m not really one to talk, of course.”

Butterscotch rubbed the side of her body against his hand — and went to sniff at his trouser pocket.

“Ah, so that’s what you want.” With a sigh, Jon pulled a couple of treats out of his pocket. “I should have known.”

He thought about trying to train Butterscotch to do tricks for the treats, but ultimately decided against it. Not only was it not worth the effort when Butterscotch would simply be ignoring him again once Martin was back. Jon was also reluctant to make a creature who was smaller than him and who he had power over jump through metaphorical hoops just for his entertainment.

“You’re a pretty girl, you know that?” he whispered when Butterscotch munched on the treats he held out in his palm. A smile flitted over his face. “Of course you know that. Martin keeps telling you, doesn’t he?”

Butterscotch looked up at him while cracking a treat between her teeth. Tentatively, Jon reached out to pet her. To his surprise and delight, she accepted the attention, only moving to get another treat.

Jon continued to pet her, his fingers carding through the ginger fluff. The colour always reminded Jon of Martin’s hair, only that Butterscotch’s coat was not as curly. It was soft, though, and Jon especially enjoyed scratching her little head.

Butterscotch also seemed to enjoy it, which was a nice change of pace from her usual behaviour towards him.

It wasn’t as though she was ever aggressive towards him, but mostly, her attitude was that towards the annoying boyfriend of a friend: Jon was a necessarily evil she had to endure to be around Martin, and she would be civil to him, but no more.

Well, perhaps now she was learning that he wasn’t as annoying as she had imagined.

Or perhaps she was simply desperate.

“Such a pretty lady,” Jon cooed. “When you’re being affectionate like this, I would almost say that you’re cuter than the Admiral. Don’t tell him or Georgie that I said so, though.”

Butterscotch’s eye was fixed on him now, and Jon had the odd thought that her gaze had focused at the mention of the Admiral. There seemed to be some calculation, or perhaps disdain, in her expression at hearing about another cat.

Which was silly, of course. She couldn’t possibly understand what he was talking about.

Butterscotch meowed, and turned, almost as though making a point. The more likely explanation was that she had finished her treats and was tired of Jon’s attention, though he still couldn’t shake the odd thought that she was miffed about him mentioning another cat.

“Sorry,” he said, illogically. “I’m not like Martin. You’re not the first cat I let into my heart.”

Butterscotch looked back at him where she had been walking towards her cat tree, seeming almost reproachful. Then she continued her trek, and made the few jumps up to her throne.

Jon made a thoughtful noise. “I feel like I was better at being the step dad than I am at being a real cat dad.”

Butterscotch meowed again, sounding to be in agreement.

“Thank you, daughter,” Jon said dryly. “You know, the easiest solution to this would be for you to meet your step brother and learn to love him.”

Butterscotch made a disgruntled sound.

“Alright, yes, that may have been wishful thinking. But I had to try.”

Jon wondered what Martin would say if he heard him talking to the cat. Martin did it often enough himself, but Jon always teased him for it, so he expected Martin to do so in return.

Jon let his head fall onto the back of the sofa, then angled it so he was looking at Butterscotch. “We’re one odd little family, aren’t we?”

Butterscotch meowed, and started licking her front paws.

Jon hummed. “Martin already taught you to wash your hands after eating. He’s a good father.”

Another meow. Jon picked up his phone from the coffee table.

Our little girl is being very vocal with me today. His thumb hovered over the send icon for a moment before he finally pressed it.

It took almost no time at all for Martin to react with a heart emoji. He sent back: 

I’m on the train

Already missing you two tbh

Jon smiled. “Daddy says he misses us,” he said absent-mindedly.

Butterscotch made a sound almost like a coo.

We miss you too, he wrote back. Don’t fall into the sea.

Martin reacted with a salute emoji.

Will do my best, he sent. Then he added: Tim is being annoying

Jon grinned. Martin had probably sent that less for complaining and more for annoying Tim back, who must be trying to see his text conversation.

Tell him that historically, annoying your boss’ fiance has not been seen as a smart move.

Martin typed, then stopped. Started typing again. Finally, he sent: He says you text like a boomer

Jon sniffed indignantly. Tell him he texts like a fourth grader.

A soft sound made him look up from his phone, and he spotted Butterscotch coming back towards him, having jumped down from her cat tree again. With a meow like she was announcing her intentions, she jumped up on the sofa, and pushed her little face close to the phone screen.

“Do you know that daddy is on the other side?” Jon teased, running a hand through her fur

Butterscotch meowed again, and touched the phone — fortunately gently, without claws.

Taking advantage of the situation, Jon opened the camera app, and switched to selfie mode.

The result wasn’t particularly good, but then Jon’s selfies never were. At least part of Jon’s face was visible behind Butterscotch, and the cat looked almost regal.

Did I mention that we miss you? Jon captioned the photo when sending it to Martin.

There was an almost immediate heart-eyes emoji reaction, and then Martin started typing.

Aw, two cuties <3, he finally sent.

Jon sighed. Martin had a rather warped sense of aesthetic. Surely, no one else could have considered Jon ‘cute’.

“Your daddy is such a weirdo”, he told Butterscotch, scratching behind her ears. “We’re lucky to have him.”

Butterscotch meowed in apparent agreement.

Jon smiled. Perhaps the cat and him could manage to bond, after all.

If only over both of them loving Martin.

[avatarofthearchives]

Magnus Archive Appearance Headcanons.

John - Every one of John's features are downturned and sunken, making him look older, relentlessly tired, and kind of like a Tim Burton character. He has dark brown hair that almost looked black before he started greying, and the hazel eyes he once had were replaced with a bright, nearly unnatural green after the coma. He used to have a professional style, overdressing to the office everyday like he had a speech to give afterwards. Yet, that style rapidly degrades over the series, and by season 5 he's wearing a hoodie and jogging pants that don't even match. In the end, the only thing that stays the same with his appearance is a beauty mark sat beside his left eye. He used to think it didn't suit him, but after everything, it seems weirdly fitting.

Martin - Martin has a soft face with features that make him look slightly younger than he is, adding to the first impression most people get that he's a naturally welcoming. Granted, people also tend to think that because of his cozy-business casual style that makes him just look like the type person who likes to makes tea for others, but it's mostly his friendly face. He has orange-red hair and dark blue eyes that are a shade uncomfortably close shade to Peter's.

Tim - There's not a feature on Tim's face that doesn't compliment the others. He looks like a carefully crafted doll, or a mannequin made of wax. He has pitch black hair and dark eyes that look like a starless night, features that contrast vividly with his colorful preppy-business casual style, and the bright tattoo of mountain on his wrist that he got with his brother in better days.

Sasha - Sasha's features could be best described as "warm." Her lips seem like they're meant to be curled in a smile, her eyes seem like they're supposed to have wrinkles in the corner from laughter, and her nose seems like it should be buried in a book. She has dark black hair and amber eyes that shine like the sun under light, and the dark freckles on her face stand out like stars on a canvas. Her vintage thrift-store style is just as cozy, making her look like a librarian from a children's fantasy novel.

Melanie - Melanie's features are intense. Her eyes are sharp like knives, and her lips naturally sit in a way that looks a bit like the start of a scowl. Granted, her punk style doesn't make her look any less intimidating. Or her blue hair that is naturally pitch black underneath the dye. Or the slit in her eyebrow that she tells everyone was a style choice, but was really earned trying to pet a stray cat. Her only soft features are her brown eyes that are the same color as the bark of a tree.

Basira - All of Basira's features are soft, from her soft heart-shaped face, to her naturally rosy cheeks, to her light brown almond eyes that seem meant to track a subject for miles. In fact, she even dresses like an investigator, having a business casual style that always makes her look ready for a low stakes-meeting with her boss, which is is unfortunately not the types of meetings she has, but, hey, dress for the job you want, not the job you have.

Daisy - All of Daisy's features are strong, from her strong jaw line to her wide eyes that seem meant to be locked on her prey. She has dark blonde hair that's the same color as the middle of a daisy, and green eyes that are the same color as grass on a spring day. She has a very athletically rugged style that always make her look ready for a run, or a bar brawl, at all times.

More Undercut

Peter - All of Peter's features manage to be slightly unnerving. His eyes are just slightly too wide, his nose is just slightly too short, and his lips are just slightly too thin in a way that makes him look a bit...disconnected from being a person, despite the fact that on paper, he looks like your typical grandfather. He has dull grey hair and dark blue eyes that match the sea, and the formal-cozy style he has that ends him up in a lot of sweaters and turtle-necks doesn't do anything to make him look younger. Nor does the thick beard that consumes his face like sea foam.

Elias - Elias has a sharp face with very mismatched features. None of them seem quite like they should be on the same face, and he almost looks like he was put together from a Picasso painting. He has dark green eyes and dark red hair that is usually slicked back in a way that suits his extremely professional style.

Gertrude - Gertrude has a very average and non-descriptive face. Not one of her features stand out, and it's easy to forget what she looks like while you're staring at her. She always thought that was a good thing since it lets her move under the radar more effectively, that is, until she started getting described as "the old women" due to her grey hair which is far more noticeable than her pale green eyes. She keeps her clothes just as non-descriptive, wearing only natural colors and plain styles that leave there with nothing to say.

Gerard - Gerard has a sharp face with distinctive features. He has upturned eyes and a long nose that takes up a large portion of his face, along with a very thin upper lip and a very thick lower lip. On the right side of his face, a few moles trail down near his check. His natural hair color is a little less distinctive than his face, being a chestnut brown that pairs well with his dark brown eyes that seem almost the same color as his dyed hair and gothic attire.

Michael Shelley - Michael has a sharp face that has even sharper features. He most resembles a fox, but his personality makes it easy to perceive his face as a bit softer than it is. He has golden blonde hair and light blue eyes that seem to illuminate under bright lights, features that don't seem as notable as they should be compared to his bright, hippie, style. He also has a noticeable tooth gap.

[im-out-of-it]

BONUS OF SEASON THREE EPISODE TEN CONTINUED “ERCHOMAI”

210. Magnus always comes to save the day

211. ok I could watch this all day

212. I love some angry Magnus magic ✨

213. Maryse: I’m sure he will get here and be dramatic about it

214. I forgot to do these so let me get them out of the way. bye Lilith, you’ll be missed

215. LET HER DIE

216. for such a big reveal, this seems so underwhelming

217. well Lilith accomplished her task but I’m sure she will regret it in time

218. I’m sure Lilith thought jonathon would race back to Hell lmao PSYCH BITCH but enjoy being salted

219. so maybe show some fucking appreciation. a thank you isn’t out of the question

220. WELL I DONT

221. yeah cause god forbid you lose a toxic person

222. technically he’s been dead 💀

223. Lilith: duh, do I have to spell out everything?

224. THOSE CAT EYES THOUGH 🔥

225. see ya soon jonathon

226. I did like these sister moments though

227. Rebecca is here to stay

228. Lilith has an odd way of showing it

229. Alec watching Magnus being roasted a second later 😐 also mags needs to stop leaving Alec unattended for hours at a time

GIF CREDITS FOR BONUS 3x10:

gif by sarasweaterpaw

gif by evan-buck

gif by matt-daddario

Lilith dying gif

let her die gif

oh goody jonathon is back gif

damn clary CHILL gif

go off Si gif

Magnus sacrificing himself for no reason gif

well I don’t gif

god forbid you lose a toxic person gif

Simon Lewis was already dead but go grieve gif

must Lilith spell everything out gif

those cat eyes are 🔥 gif

take this bone jonathon gif

Rebecca bring the best sister gif

Simon gets one family member gif

mother “loves” you gif

magnus stop leaving Alec unattended gif

230. wow so much shit happened in this episode. I’m honestly trying to remember it all. but what I loved- as much as I don’t like the Malec stuff being cut short, I did enjoy seeing that. watching Magnus’s conversation with asmodeus and then having Magnus see Alec die was incredibly intense. there’s so much history and trauma for Magnus and while I don’t exactly appreciate the way they handled it (just wanted more) I’m really glad to see Magnus’s history. it was the most (Malec) wonderful acting with an exception to Simon saying goodbye to his mother. it’s also nice to remember Izzy and Maryse exist as well

alec almost dying and the magnus scenes were truly the best aspect of this episode. I’m always amazed at the talent we got for malec. I’m just bitter that we didn’t get enough

231. what I don’t like: honestly I feel like this whole episode is a mess. of course they’re going to focus on clace and make the Malec moments small. of course that’s going to happen. but Lilith dying seems so underwhelming. I get Simon has this power but the way they handle Lilith is a crime. she’s supposed to be this powerful entity and she gets easily defeated by “clace love” and Simon. the Simon part I get but go away plot armor

232. I love that Malec gets their “I love you” and “stay with me” but focusing on clary for the duration of the episode irritates me. I get oh no she might be dead but I DONT CARE. so many Malec moments get cut so the focus can be on clace. how is Magnus doing after not getting his magic? how is he feeling? how is he looking watching his bestie heal Alec when he can’t do help Alec any longer? how will this impact him? THATS WHAT I WANT TO KNOW

233. I’m so damn tired of everyone “oh no clary needs saving” or “Jace needs saving” like haven’t we done that enough????? isn’t everyone tired of the same storylines?????

234. just focusing on clace irritates me because there are other things going on. magnus losing magic, ALEC ALMOST DYING, Simon having to say goodbye to his mother, like there are more important aspects than clary and jace needing to be saved IM OVER IT

235. this is a 6.5 on my analysis scale. I really hate this episode. it’s not that much of a tearjerker for me besides Alec almost dying. it just could’ve been so much more in my opinion. the show would’ve been better off if they cut out the clace nonsense in my opinion

so I landed at 235 with 53 parts 😐 and that’s a wrap for 3x10! thank you for joining can Malec stop getting put through the ringer and can clace just fucking leave forever please discussion list!!!!!! I haven’t started on 3x11 and frankly, I’m bloody exhausted so I’m just going to saying fuck it and start tomorrow but it’s coming soon!

I’m on holiday so I’ll definitely try to do better!!!! magnus appreciation is ongoing and I’ll be finishing up season one and off to season two we go!!! I know it seems like a lot but I’m a lot so this makes it even. if anyone has specific requests they want to see for mags, please tell me I can’t read minds!!!!!!! 💀 but I’ll see y’all soon ✨

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 14: WE BREAK A BRIDGE

I SWEAR I picked the order at random and then committed to it through the entirety of this series for Nico, of ALL of them, to get this chapter! I think I have a magic power, and I wish to return it.

PJOPJOPJOPJO

It didn't take a genius to figure out why Will looked suddenly sunken, a weight appearing in his usually open face. Nico had no delusions, he was about to read about a lot of Will's siblings dying.

Nico didn't know how he was supposed to just start reading like he didn't know something awful like that was about to happen to Will. How had Will done this? What curse of Hades had been placed on them that he now sat in exactly Will's shoes when he'd been the one to read of Bianca's death?

Will gave him a brave smile. There was always such a kindness in his eyes. He was encouraging Nico like he had from the beginning. To start, to get this over with.

He didn't know how to read, he didn't know how to do this to actually be of help though. Will had been a kind of support he'd never had before through all of this and he wanted to try and be that now. Will just nestled down into his seat, shifting his weight to get comfortable, his arm over his shoulders as warm as ever. Like a cat settling in, Nico had never been around them much but he couldn't help think of the comparison. All he was missing was the purring.

So Nico read, "We Break a Bridge."

Alex snorted in delight at once. "Only Percy! Taking a metaphor for trusting others and turning it into a group activity of violence!"

"You break it you buy it Percy," Jason chuckled.

"Gods I hope that bill never finds my mom," Percy frowned.

The others made a few wisecracks too, but all Nico noticed was Will. Pressing into him, obviously trying to hold him as close as possible. Nico honestly wanted to set aside the book and let him.

He didn't know it, but he'd come a long way from that guy who'd landed in here who wouldn't consider tolerating such a thing.

Fortunately, Blackjack was on duty.

"It's a thing of beauty when Blackjack's on duty," Percy said in a sing-song voice.*

"Was that a quote?" Annabeth looked at him in confusion.

"Yeah, sorry, I should stop that," Percy chuckled, again realizing nobody got it but him.

I did my best taxicab whistle, and within a few minutes two dark shapes circled out of the sky.

'Avoiding those pesky distractions of saving everyone along the way,' Will understood as he tried not to fidget around to much.

They looked like hawks at first, but as they descended I could make out the long galloping legs of pegasi.

Yo, boss. Blackjack landed at a trot, his friend Porkpie right behind him. Man, I thought those wind gods were gonna knock us to Pennsylvania until we said we were with you!

"Land of the Eagles, I guess they don't want competition," Magnus chuckled, though the football reference went over most of their heads, and Jason was looking at him particularly strangely.

"Is that all it took to get past those winds guarding the place?" Alex rolled her eyes. "What's to stop Kronos showing up lying saying he just had a nice cupcake to deliver?"

"Even he's not evil enough to think of misusing cupcakes like that," Percy shook his head.

"Thanks for coming," I told him. "Hey, why do pegasi gallop as they fly, anyway?"

"So that they never lose practice of aiming?" Thalia shrugged.

Jason sighed and slumped in his seat. He really wanted to get his hands on a pegasi skeleton, but knew saying that out loud would make him sound like a lunatic right now.

Blackjack whinnied. Why do humans swing their arms as they walk? I dunno, boss. It just feels right.

"Love, love, love that that pegasus just told you to stop overthinking things," Annabeth grinned. She owed Blackjack some sugar cubes.

"Did it do any good?" Percy rolled his eyes at both of them, even if one was only in spirit. "No." He answered his own question.

Where to?

"We need to get to the Williamsburg Bridge," I said.

Blackjack lowered his neck. You're darn right, boss. We flew over it on the way here, and it don't look good. Hop on!

"If your camp hands out medals, Blackjack deserves one," Jason smiled. "No hesitation, just flying you right into battle, every time."

"I'll find a way to give him a horse-sized donut one day," Percy nodded.

On the way to the bridge, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach. The Minotaur was one of the first monsters I'd ever defeated. Four years ago he'd nearly killed my mother on Half-Blood Hill. I still had nightmares about that.

Magnus was a big complainer about Percy's nightmares. He kept insisting it was an extra layer of cruelty he couldn't even get a decent sleep without being bombarded with the world's problems.

He was suddenly just a tad grateful they hadn't been getting a night-by-night example of everything Percy dreamed of, the good, the bad, and the normal trauma.

I'd been hoping he would stay dead for a few centuries, but I should've known my luck wouldn't hold.

"The best summary of your life by far," Nico nodded.

"Yeah," Percy groaned. "Who do I pay to rewrite that?"

Will offered an awkward smile, the errant comment on the tip of his tongue his dad perhaps being able to pull that off, but it fumbled off fast. He just wasn't in the mood.

We saw the battle before we were close enough to make out individual fighters. It was well after midnight now, but the bridge blazed with light. Cars were burning. Arcs of fire streamed in both directions as flaming arrows and spears sailed through the air.

We came in for a low pass, and I saw the Apollo campers retreating. They would hide behind cars and snipe at the approaching army, setting off explosive arrows and dropping caltrops in the road, building fiery barricades wherever they could, dragging sleeping drivers out of their cars to get them out of harm's way. But the enemy kept advancing. An entire phalanx of dracaenae marched in the lead, their shields locked together, spear tips bristling over the top. An occasional arrow would connect with their snaky trunks, or a neck, or a chink in their armor, and the unlucky snake woman would disintegrate, but most of the Apollo arrows glanced harmlessly off their shield wall. About a hundred more monsters marched behind them.

It seemed like a stalemate that was going to collapse any second, Percy's throat tightened at the fresh memory. The smell of the smoke had clogged him up before he even got close, he didn't know how those guys had been aiming with such precision to hit anything. Dust had been sweeping across his feet like he'd brought the shore with him as he landed.

He wished the bodies would have vanished as well, but then, that's what separated them from the enemy.

Hellhounds leaped ahead of the line from time to time. Most were destroyed with arrows, but one got hold of an Apollo camper and dragged him away. I didn't see what happened to him next. I didn't want to know.

The same thing that would have happened to Percy all those years ago if Chiron hadn't saved his hind. He wasn't there to save every kid with half-a-dozen arrows this time though, Will felt seized by the thought like someone had grabbed his soul.

"There!" Annabeth called from the back of her pegasus.

Sure enough, in the middle of the invading legion was Old Beefhead himself.

"I'm sure that's exactly what the ancient Greeks called him while running for their lives in that first labyrinth," Thalia looked at him in her usual pride for never passing a moment to insult someone.

"I hope Theseus made the first hamburger out of him," Percy smirked.

The last time I'd seen the Minotaur, he'd been wearing nothing but his tighty whities. I don't know why.

"Sorry Nico, but those four words are the best summary of Percy's life," Annabeth cut in, "and from his own head!"

"I really could just wear that on the back of any shirt for the rest of my life," Percy sighed.

Maybe he'd been shaken out of bed to chase me.

"I am now imagining Zeus and or Hades just showing up in a monster's house and kicking the frame of their bed until they do their bidding," Alex nodded.

"I'm still half convinced he has Echidna on speed dial for next time," Percy nodded.

"Next time you, piss of Zeus?" Annabeth asked in concern.

"Yeah," he looked at her blankly like he could mean anything else.

This time, he was prepared for battle.

From the waist down, he wore standard Greek battle gear—a kiltlike apron of leather and metal flaps,

"For shame on you Percy for never wearing standard Greek battle gear yourself," Alex cackled.

From anyone else, he would have assumed Alex was mocking him for the idea of guys wearing kilts, but from Alex he was pretty sure she just wanted him in that get-up for potential nerd conventions.

bronze greaves covering his legs, and tightly wrapped leather sandals. His top was all bull—hair and hide and muscle leading to a head so large he should've toppled over just from the weight of his horns. He seemed larger than the last time I'd seen him—ten feet tall at least.

Considering the last time Percy had 'seen him,' it had been pouring down rain and Percy's mind might have honestly still been obstructed by Mist, Nico would have assumed in fact the Minotaur would have seemed smaller to the now teenager about to face him down.

A double-bladed axe was strapped to his back, but he was too impatient to use it. As soon as he saw me circling overhead (or sniffed me, more likely, since his eyesight was bad), he bellowed and picked up a white limousine.

"I imagine him like a rhino," Thalia nodded. "He just violently attacks without question at the slightest movement. Your scent is like his red flag."

"Great, just what I always wanted, another chance at being a conquistador," Percy's smile was nearly vindictive. This monster was going to wish he'd been reincarnated as a chicken hybrid instead by the time Percy was through with him.

"Blackjack, dive!" I yelled.

What? The pegasus asked. No way could he . . . Holy horse feed!

"Blackjack underestimating his opponents is going to get him hurt," Jason leaned forward in his seat in concern. It's possible that's how he'd even been captured as Luke's personal steed in the first place.

We were at least a hundred feet up, but the limo came sailing toward us, flipping fender over fender like a two-ton boomerang. Annabeth and Porkpie swerved madly to the left, while Blackjack tucked in his wings and plunged. The limo sailed over my head, missing by maybe two inches. It cleared the suspension lines of the bridge and fell toward the East River.

"Feel like that god's going to feel the splash and instantly blame you," Jason said, eyes closed and rubbing them.

"No different than any other part of my life," Percy shrugged. As long as he kept the monsters out of the river while cussing him out.

Monsters jeered and shouted, and the Minotaur picked up another car.

"Was he a brand snob?" Magnus asked. "I just want to know if he picked another limosene, or another white car, or if some certain symbol attracted his attention."

"I'd like to hit him with a John Deer tractor but he'd probably throw that back at me too," Percy scowled.

"Drop us behind the lines with the Apollo cabin," I told Blackjack. "Stay in earshot but get out of danger!"

"Easily the best advice you've ever given someone," Annabeth grinned as she patted his shoulder.

"Far better than that time he tried to convince Clarisse to polish her spear in the blood of that wyvern," Thalia nodded.

"I was trying to be supportive," Percy frowned.

I ain't gonna argue, boss!

Blackjack swooped down behind an overturned school bus, where a couple of campers were hiding.

Annabeth and I leaped off as soon as our pegasi's hooves touched the pavement. Then Blackjack and Porkpie soared into the night sky.

Michael Yew ran up to us. He was definitely the shortest commando I'd ever seen. He had a bandaged cut on his arm.

It had taken all of Will's pleading to even get that far, he kept his sigh very internal. The act of making him sit still for that had been a feat only a little brother could manage. He'd tried distracting him by asking what was going to happen to the animals at the zoo since he heard Conner talking about releasing them.

The memory felt a little bitter, a little sad, and a little nostalgic all at once as Miachel had just told him to stay back at the base as he headed out, and not long after a pig had flown overhead like a bizarre angel all its own.

His ferrety face was smeared with soot and his quiver was almost empty, but he was smiling like he was having a great time.

Nico glanced at Will for probably the thousandth time in as many words to see him trying for that smile now, but his eyes were to sad. It was obvious he was happy his brother died at the peak of his life, even if that cord had been cut to soon for his liking. He still didn't quite understand how Will didn't associate him with that feeling like he did practically every time he looked at Percy.

"Glad you could join us," he said. "Where are the other reinforcements?"

"For now, we're it," I said.

"Then we're dead," he said.

"I see you got all the cheer Will," Percy told him.

He gave a sad smile back for his lost half-brother, he'd learned that dry sarcasm from him.

"He has such faith in you," Thalia couldn't help a derisive snort.

"Hey, it was a lot of monsters," Annabeth hadn't even really argued the point at the time it was a fair assumption.

"You still have your flying chariot?" Annabeth asked.

"Nah," Michael said. "Left it at camp. I told Clarisse she could have it. Whatever, you know? Not worth fighting about anymore. But she said it was too late. We'd insulted her honor for the last time or some stupid thing."

'Or some stupid thing,' Jason frowned and tipped his head to the side as he felt for Clarisse in that. They still didn't seem to understand the root of her problem, which was why she was clearly refusing to make any bridges herself so the camp could just break those later too. She wasn't just a tool, a means to be used and never respected for more than just her capabilities. Nobody should just be seen as a weapon you could point and then toss aside when you were done.

He found himself rubbing his tattoo, as usual when thoughts like that sprung to easily to mind and he thought about the Daughter of Ares for to long. He craved to know what connection he felt should be there, but now with her not even in the picture he doubted he'd get any more chances for the foreseeable future.

"Least you tried," I said.

Michael shrugged. "Yeah, well, I called her some names when she said she still wouldn't fight. I doubt that helped. Here come the uglies!"

"I so wish that was the Ares cabin though, riding in at the perfect moment," Alex admitted. Even if she made a point to knock Micheal on his ass while she stormed into the battle for calling her ugly.

"Yeah, me too," Percy had no problems admitting, even if it caused a severe twinge in his temple to imagine.

He drew an arrow and launched it toward the enemy. The arrow made a screaming sound as it flew.

When it landed, it unleashed a blast like a power chord on an electric guitar magnified through the world's largest speakers. The nearest cars exploded. Monsters dropped their weapons and clasped their ears in pain. Some ran. Others disintegrated on the spot.

"That was my last sonic arrow," Michael said.

"A pity, I'd have let him borrow some of mine," Thalia frowned. She wished she could have dispatched some of her hunters to help their cousins out. The Apollo cabin was probably as close to likable as some of the Hunters could get, even if it was the kind of tolerance at a forced family gathering.

Will knew she meant that in a helpful way, but it made her sound cocky like she'd had extras; it still grated on him, as everything was bound to do when his heart hurt so bad. They were still just laughing, just talking like nothing was wrong. His entire cabin had been on that bridge while only he and his youngest half sister had been at the infirmary at the far back and they were treating this like another quest Percy had gone on and obviously came back from.

"A gift from your dad?" I asked. "God of music?"

"I swear it's like you're still reminding yourself of this all these years later," Thalia sighed as she rubbed her temples.

Percy stayed eerily silent. It was hard keeping track of all this!

Michael grinned wickedly. "Loud music can be bad for you. Unfortunately, it doesn't always kill."

Sure enough, most monsters were regrouping, shaking off their confusion.

"We have to fall back," Michael said. "I've got Kayla and Austin setting traps farther down the bridge."

"No," I said. "Bring your campers forward to this position and wait for my signal. We're going to drive the enemy back to Brooklyn."

Michael laughed. "How do you plan to do that?"

I drew my sword.

"Percy," Annabeth said, "let me come with you."

"Too dangerous," I said.

Gods did she hate being told that. He was right. And it was annoying he was right! But he'd still told her no, and for a good stupid reason. And she hated it! Frekaing, Curse, of, Achilles!

"Besides, I need you to help Michael coordinate the defensive line. I'll distract the monsters. You group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me. If anybody can do all that, you can."

Michael snorted. "Thanks a lot."

She was the brightest person in Camp, Will couldn't stop an eye roll even by threat of death. Everybody knew it, and she and Percy relied on each other to fix everything like the rest of them weren't even there. Micheal getting a chance to say that, even while being ignored, felt justified in a petty way.

I kept my eyes on Annabeth.

She nodded reluctantly. "All right. Get moving."

Before I could lose my courage,

Annabeth sighed, it was as simple as that to him huh? He'd really been trying to prove he wasn't a coward, now of all times! If he hadn't kissed her down in that lake she might have been afraid to ever press her lips to his again, considering when she did he nearly died!

I said, "Don't I get a kiss for luck? It's kind of a tradition, right?"

"For luck?" Annabeth scowled at him in a way that suggested she really wished she had her knife on her again. "For luck! Last time I kissed you, you died for two weeks seaweed brain! How was that lucky?"

"You kissing me made me feel luckier," Percy shrugged. "I think that counts."

If looks could strangle, the son of the sea should have been choking on air as he smiled at her.

I figured she would punch me. Instead, she drew her knife and stared at the army marching toward us.

"Come back alive, Seaweed Brain. Then we'll see."

"A tradition has been broken," Jason tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Nine out of ten times before this, if Percy thought you were going to hit him, you hugged him, or indeed kissed him."

"Sorry to disrupt your data," Annabeth gave him a strange look.

"On the contrary, it's just a new variable," he shook his head, still studying the book like it was his thesis assignment.

Annabeth glanced at Percy wondering how he didn't feel like a lab rat. He was still grinning at her without a care in the world. He hoped he proved to her he wasn't a coward. That she'd only said no because she hadn't wanted to jinx it again. Not for other possible reasons like she'd rather go kiss Luke right now.

I figured it was the best offer I would get, so I stepped out from behind the school bus. I walked up the bridge in plain sight, straight toward the enemy.

When the Minotaur saw me, his eyes burned with hate. He bellowed—a sound that was somewhere between a yell, a moo, and a really loud belch.

Alex waved her hand in front of her nose like she could smell such a thing all the way down here, and Percy envied those who couldn't.

"Hey, Beef Boy," I shouted back. "Didn't I kill you already?"**

"Percy over here losing track of how many monsters he's killed," Magnus sighed.

"I just wish I had the gun and actual kill count to match," Percy frowned. Everything he'd done up to this point did not make him feel prepared to stare down this monster that had made him feel more lost in his life than any after. He wished he had that horn on him to stab the Minotaur in a few more places.

He pounded his fist into the hood of a Lexus, and it crumpled like aluminum foil.

"Is cow insurance a thing in New York?" Magnus couldn't help but ask how that paperwork would go for the poor owner.

"Is cow insurance a thing period?" Percy looked around.

"Yes Percy," Will sounded tired though, not at all his usual chipper way of talking and it got all attention. He kept replaying the moment over and over when Percy had killed him the first time in his head, but it wasn't making this feeling any better.

Nico cleared his throat and quickly kept reading, but it didn't stop the lingering looks as Percy's stomach continued to churn up painfully within.

A few dracaenae threw flaming javelins at me. I knocked them aside. A hellhound lunged, and I sidestepped. I could have stabbed it, but I hesitated.

He'd just witnessed one of those murdering a camper, and still he couldn't overcome his greatest weakness, his compassion. Magnus found it admirable, honestly, but he also kind of wanted to stick a pin in Percy's weak spot and remind him to stop being an idiot right now.

This is not Mrs. O'Leary, I reminded myself. This is an untamed monster. It will kill me and all my friends.

It pounced again. This time I brought Riptide up in a deadly arc. The hellhound disintegrated into dust and fur.

Thalia bit back a sigh of regret anyways. Just because it was untamed didn't mean it deserved to die. These weren't wild animals though, she had to remind herself too. It wouldn't just stay in its natural habitat if humans didn't bother it, these things actively sought out and killed half-bloods. Their place in nature was to be vaporized by them only to be reborn.

More monsters surged forward—snakes and giants and telkhines—but the Minotaur roared at them, and they backed off.

Jason really wished Tyson was around right now just to translate. He got the gist of course, but it still would have been fascinating to know the words the Minotaur used.

"One on one?" I called. "Just like old times?"

The Minotaur's nostrils quivered. He seriously needed to keep a pack of Aloe Vera Kleenex in his armor pocket, because that nose was wet and red and pretty gross. He unstrapped his axe and swung it around.

It was beautiful in a harsh I'm~going~to-gut~you~like~a~fish kind of way.

"Is that what all fish think before they bite the hook that ends them?" Nico asked in mild fascination. "This worm is beautiful and oddly shiny."

"I don't ask, I don't fish," Percy frowned at him oddly like it wasn't his own mind's choice of words to prompt that.

Each of its twin blades was shaped like an omega: Ω—the last letter of the Greek alphabet.

Jason leaned over so eagerly to see the symbol for himself he nearly headbutted Nico.

"Looks like an upside-down U," Nico told with a grin.

"A fancy upside down U," Percy agreed, "with curlies on the side."

"How many letters are in the Greek alphabet?" Magnus frowned. "And why do I feel like they're all going to bite Percy in the ass at some point." At least two of them already hadn't been that great.

"Twenty-four," Annabeth answered.

"And no, there's not a cool song," Thalia grinned before Alex could ask, making her slump in her seat in disappointment, only to wind back up a second later and mutter about making her own.

Maybe that was because the axe would be the last thing his victims ever saw. The shaft was about the same height as the Minotaur, bronze wrapped in leather. Tied around the base of each blade were lots of bead necklaces. I realized they were Camp Half-Blood beads—necklaces taken from defeated demigods.

"Oh," Annabeth murmured in understanding long after she didn't need to as bile rose in her. She remembered every step Percy had taken, about a dozen, to banish this monster back to the abyss.

She was now surprised it had even taken that many as angry as he'd be seeing that as a trophy.

I was so mad, I imagined my eyes glowing just like the Minotaur's.

Where was Rachel around to sketch this, Alex thought with relish. She immensely enjoyed Percy's most destructive side, and most of all, where it stemmed from. She craved to get that image into solid marble somehow, of a protective, fierce warrior in all the right ways. Even if Percy would protest every chip away.

I raised my sword. The monster army cheered for the Minotaur, but the sound died when I dodged his first swing and sliced his axe in half, right between the handholds.

"Moo?" he grunted.

"Percy, the cow whisperer," Nico said with a soft chuckle at the actual question mark there. It always was fascinating when one could tell an animal was whole-heartedly confused by something.

Will smiled, the first time he had all chapter. Just a little quirk of the lips, but enough it was clear his thoughts flickered to something other than the ending of this where that bridge was doomed to take his brothers and sisters down. Like he wanted to laugh, and maybe even call back to saying he'd never actually been around cows and might have understood the Minotaur.

It was fleeting and didn't last that long, but Nico still felt a sense like he was doing something right he rarely got to feel.

"HAAA!" I spun and kicked him in the snout. He staggered backward, trying to regain his footing, then lowered his head to charge.

He never got the chance. My sword flashed—slicing off one horn, then the other.

"Percy has officially graduated from taking more than one slice to defeat a monster," Thalia snorted, before back peddling, "no, wait, that's worse."

"Now he's just showing off and will still kill it," Jason nodded.

There was an odd moment of silence, where they all finally realized what they were waiting on, but Will didn't butt in with a pun on his name at all.

Nico had easy access to his hand always on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. He simply nodded and Nico kept going while Percy's hands started to shake. His confidence slipping by the word.

Just because he could finally vanquish a nightmare away didn't mean more weren't always lurking.

He tried to grab me. I rolled away, picking up half of his broken axe. The other monsters backed up in stunned silence, making a circle around us. The Minotaur bellowed in rage. He was never very smart to begin with, but now his anger made him reckless.

"Why are idiots always so predictable?" Jason rolled his eyes.

"Does that make Percy a genius?" Annabeth grinned at her boyfriend, who beamed with pride at the slightly backhanded compliment.

Jason snorted lightly, but he was suddenly rather grateful that Percy's temper which usually did lead him to do impulsive and insane things wasn't what had been 'enhanced' instead of his heart.

He charged me, and I ran for the edge of the bridge, breaking through a line of dracaenae.

The Minotaur must've smelled victory. He thought I was trying to get away.

"Never, ever assume Percy is running from a fight," Will muttered a life lesson he'd clearly taken out of this, as if he'd actually try and pass it along to the next foolish monster and then watch as they didn't listen.

In this one case, he wished he was wrong. That Percy had jumped off the bridge in hopes the army would follow him. His plan had worked, as usual, but the consequences had been deadlier than ever.

His minions cheered. At the edge of the bridge, I turned and braced the axe against the railing to receive his charge. The Minotaur didn't even slow down.

CRUNCH.

"I feel like someone should have gotten that on video," Magnus said in admiration. "Crazy Percy Plan 101."

"We really should add that to the orientation video," Nico agreed with a sideways look at Will. He'd been hoping he'd ramp up to his usual and agree he'd get the costumes ready, but no, Nico had definitely pushed his limit and he recognized that and moved on.

He looked down in surprise at the axe handle sprouting from his breastplate.

"Thanks for playing," I told him.

I lifted him by his legs and tossed him over the side of the bridge. Even as he fell, he was disintegrating, turning back into dust, his essence returning to Tartarus.

"What a fabulous prize, you'll beat that sphinx out of game show host easy Perce," Alex chuckled.

"I've told you a dozen times Alex, I'm done with the TV show life," Percy sighed.

"Eh, they'd never get your good angle anyways," she shrugged.

I turned toward his army. It was now roughly one hundred and ninety-nine to one. I did the natural thing. I charged them.

Nico read that with ease. It had always been the natural thing to do in his mind, of the Percy he'd built in his head. Reading it now, as a fact and knowing the real Percy only made it all the more true somehow.

"At least you were nearly invulnerable this time," Annabeth was still grumbling, considering she knew he'd do this with or without the curse.

You're going to ask how the "invincible" thing worked:

"We actually don't question your methods that much," Magnus admitted as he rubbed his chest, clearly saying it saved him from a heart failure or two being happier in ignorance over there imagining it just magically worked out.

"You should though," Annabeth sounded like she was trying to gently prepare a bunch of pre-schoolers about the real world. "It's always better to understand the methods behind his madness," she finished fondly.

"So that we can all repeat them at length," Alex nodded. Magnus looked between the two in betrayal for every part of this.

"No, I mean, yeah, but," Annabeth frowned at her before Nico read on like all the valid points had already been made.

if I magically dodged every weapon, or if the weapons hit me and just didn't harm me. Honestly, I don't remember. All I knew was that I wasn't going to let these monsters invade my hometown.

I sliced through armor like it was made of paper. Snake women exploded. Hellhounds melted to shadow. I slashed and stabbed and whirled, and I might have even laughed once or twice—a crazy laugh that scared me as much as it did my enemies. I was aware of the Apollo campers behind me shooting arrows, disrupting every attempt by the enemy to rally. Finally, the monsters turned and fled—about twenty left alive out of two hundred.

I followed with the Apollo campers at my heels.

Will just knew that if his brother had survived this, he would have told the most epic story around the campfire for the next year. Didn't matter what the others had gotten up to during all this, how many of them could actively say they'd fought side by side with Percy? Only Annabeth and Clriasse came close to sharing that honor. There were so many things Micheal should have been able to do...

The possibilities of what could have been for him felt like an arrow through the heart.

"Yes!" yelled Michael Yew. "That's what I'm talking about!"

We drove them back toward the Brooklyn side of the bridge. The sky was growing pale in the east. I could see the toll stations ahead.

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "You've already routed them. Pull back! We're overextended!"

Some part of me knew she was right, but I was doing so well, I wanted to destroy every last monster.

A hubris Annabeth rarely saw in him that made her shiver now. The curse nearly having its way in him, nearly overruling him.

Then I saw the crowd at the base of the bridge. The retreating monsters were running straight toward their reinforcements. It was a small group, maybe thirty or forty demigods in battle armor, mounted on skeletal horses.

"What is with the skeleton horses?" Magnus scowled. Of the few animals he liked, he found it pervasive that so many easily seemed to summon this. First Clrassie, then Hades, now this!

"Better than skeleton elephants?" Jason offered, a strange idea that lingered all the same of one in his mind he'd ridden atop of. Possibly into a similar enemy threat? Gods he wished his brain made more sense.

"Vaguely," Magnus didn't look all that much better as he grudgingly agreed.

One of them held a purple banner with the black scythe design.

The lead horseman trotted forward. He took off his helm, and I recognized Kronos himself, his eyes like molten gold.

Percy's heart dropped like someone had given his insides a good crunch in return. Someone had told.

The spy had told Kronos this was the bridge to hit, was the most vulnerable area. The weak spot on his back pulsed like it had grown its own miniature heartbeat as he shivered deep within for the loss he felt was coming.

Everything he'd done up to this moment had been for this chance, the mere possibility he'd have this fight.

Now he took one look into a face that had caused him more sleep paralysis than any monster.

Annabeth didn't even notice the way the water was tightening around them like lashings, as she'd winced for Percy once again just calling him Kronos. As if that were the only person he was facing.

Annabeth and the Apollo campers faltered.

Nico read that with a fair amount of disbelief. Like Percy hadn't come to a screeching halt with them?

The monsters we'd been pursuing reached the Titan's line and were absorbed into the new force. Kronos gazed in our direction. He was a quarter mile away, but I swear I could see him smile.

Percy would swear his face had stretched grotesquely doing it too, like his scar was about to split his face in half. The resemblance to Luke's mother had been uncanny.

"Now," I said, "we pull back."

Annabeth gave him a blatant, 'oh, now you listen to me look,' he must have missed at the time but got to admire now in all its correct glory. What would he do without her? Go charging right into the enemy, obviously.

The Titan lord's men drew their swords and charged. The hooves of their skeletal horses thundered against the pavement. Our archers shot a volley, bringing down several of the enemy, but they just kept riding.

"Retreat!" I told my friends. "I'll hold them.'"

In a matter of seconds they were on me.

Michael and his archers tried to retreat, but Annabeth stayed right beside me, fighting with her knife and mirrored shield as we slowly backed up the bridge.

Will was leaning forward in his seat now, his heart pounding so loud in his ears he almost couldn't hear Nico. Gods, he almost didn't want to hear this, the coming downfall, even as he visualized every detail vividly instead of hiding in a tent this time.

Kronos's cavalry swirled around us, slashing and yelling insults. The Titan himself advanced leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. Being the lord of time, I guess he did.

"Whoever gave him that title should be boiled in glue," Alex scowled.

"Erm," Annabeth made a face she didn't know how to explain in short enough words to keep her attention you couldn't do that to Gaea.

It wouldn't have phased Alex if she'd bothered to try anyways.

I tried to wound his men, not kill.

Nico's voice strangely eased up some, to Percy's buzzing ears as he felt like he was straddling a tightrope, but Nico's wasn't the only one. He didn't get it, but the others were more relieved than they'd admit at Percy continuing to do this, show his hesitation to those kids did ease up some of his earlier, casual dismissal of those on the river. Like on the Princess Andromeda. He just couldn't do it in cold blood, and that was of some relief the war and this curse hadn't possessed him wholly.

That slowed me down, these weren't monsters. They were demigods who'd fallen under Kronos's spell. I couldn't see faces under their battle helmets, but some of them had probably been my friends. I slashed the legs off their horses and made the skeletal mounts disintegrate. After the first few demigods took a spill, the rest figured out they'd better dismount and fight me on foot.

Annabeth and I stayed shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite directions. A dark shape passed over me, and I dared to glance up. Blackjack and Porkpie were swooping in, kicking our enemies in the helmets and flying away like very large kamikaze pigeons.

Alex snorted in her usual delight of all things chaotic, and nobody would really be surprised if she started a flock of pigeons trained to do this in the fortnight she got out of here.

We'd almost made it to the middle of the bridge when something strange happened.

I felt a chill down my spine—like that old saying about someone walking on your grave. Behind me, Annabeth cried out in pain.

Percy moved, every drop of the ocean urging him forward as he found himself on his feet. A pain, deeper than anything he'd ever felt before spurring him to draw his sword-

"Percy!" Annabeth was right in his face, cupping his cheeks, nearly nose to nose with him.

"He, he hurt," he was stammering, his eyes a memory away as Riptide stayed poised in his hand, the flat of it against her hip. She smiled and pressed their foreheads together without concern.

"I know. I know he hurt us. Just breathe."

His sword fell. He pressed his hands against her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her.

She melted into him, throwing her arms around his neck. This, she thought with ecstasy as her lips eagerly drank him in as if never getting enough. This kiss, this should have been their first kiss.

"Dude!"

Percy leaned back with a frown at whoever had interrupted him, then sheepishly took a small step back from Magnus's cousin as Annabeth's shaky breath lingered on the corner of his trembling mouth.

Alex was still smacking the side of her head to get all the water out of her ears and Will was trying to flop his dripping wet hair out of his eyes, but Magnus was ignoring these minor problems as he looked on in exasperation at the pair.

Percy swallowed a new apology as he looked worriedly around the room. There were now gaps in the walls, large enough to put feet through. He'd obviously been about to lose his temper big time.

Annabeth was running her fingers through his hair, distracting him from whatever doom was probably a snap away, her other hand was still holding tight to his wrist on her shoulder like she wanted to ignore the interruption and keep him there forever.

Will wouldn't have let them even if Magnus hadn't interrupted. A sharp clearing of his throat reminded the two quickly they were in the middle of a battle, and they weren't the only two on that bridge.

He was the one to steer her back to their spot, to force his body to cooperate and keep them on the same level as the others while she didn't take her eyes off him.

"Annabeth!" I turned in time to see her fall, clutching her arm. A demigod with a bloody knife stood over her.

Nico frowned in mild sorrow for this poor dead guy who had probably just hit public enemy number one territory over Kronos. Nico was surprised he hadn't seen a dartboard with this helmet somewhere around camp for Percy to vent on. He knew Percy wasn't a saint, above killing, and this person had just stabbed that into reality.

In a flash I understood what had happened. He'd been trying to stab me. Judging from the position of his blade, he would've taken me—maybe by sheer luck—in the small of my back, my only weak point.

Annabeth had intercepted the knife with her own body.

But why? She didn't know about my weak spot. No one did.

Annabeth could feel the questions surrounding her from the others more than she did the salt water, more than Percy finally being entirely wrapped around her. Even Thalia was looking around Percy to study her curiously for an explanation she'd never gotten of details.

She just stared straight ahead at the book and didn't offer anything. She could have said it was a gut feeling, like Percy so often said he got, and they might have bought that. She could have just said it was a reflex, she'd seen what was coming for him and hadn't taken the split second of movement inside herself that was no real choice but a simple shift of her weight to protect him without that curse even crossing her mind.

The truth was, it was none of that, and all of it. She hated not being able to explain something, but she couldn't do any research on this moment until someone found a way to interrogate her knife on what happened for an objective third-party point of view.

I locked eyes with the enemy demigod. He wore an eye patch under his war helm: Ethan Nakamura, the son of Nemesis.

"Boy sure is living up to his damned mother right now," Thalia said in blackened disgust. If he wasn't dead already by Percy's hand, she'd be happy to take up the hunt and be a nemesis to the one who had caused as much destruction on their world as Luke for all his awful, repeated, back-to-back choices.

Somehow he'd survived the explosion on the Princess Andromeda. I slammed him in the face with my sword hilt so hard I dented his helm.

The fact that that was his response and his brain wasn't leaking out of that helmet was a kind of restraint Jason didn't think he'd have in him. If somebody had hurt Thalia, any of his friends, they'd be fried like a fish without hesitation.

The idea bothered him for some reason, as he traced his tattoo and studied Percy and Annabeth, now holding each other close in those beanbags with nothing at all in the way, past or future. He had his arm around her waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into her hip absent mindedly as he watched the book with a harsh scowl. She was resting on his shoulder, once injured arm hidden from sight as she pressed in close. There was a sad smile in place, but a peaceful one for getting this back, the person she'd wanted since he'd vanished, even amid the battle being far from over.

Jason felt empty as he watched. Nothing in his past could connect to what he was seeing. He had no feeling to relate that to anyone, and it wasn't because he couldn't remember them. They just didn't exist in his world.

"Get back!" I slashed the air in a wide arc, driving the rest of the demigods away from Annabeth.

"No one touches her!"

The protective instinct was a malnourished one in Alex. With Adrian, they'd always had each other on equal ground. She'd felt it flare up a few times around these guys, mostly picturing Percy much smaller and younger facing certain aspects of this alone.

The few group homes she'd wound up in had been a nice delusion of this kind of person existing in her mind, but that was about it.

"Interesting," Kronos said.

He towered above me on his skeletal horse, his scythe in one hand. He studied the scene with narrowed eyes as if he could sense that I'd just come close to death, the way a wolf can smell fear.

Magnus often felt like a part of his life would never be able to look away from those glowing blue eyes in the face of such a monster that had killed his mom, but for once he barely flinched at the idea of a wolf as he kept eyes on his cousin. She seemed at peace, for the first time in here, truly comfortable. He was happy for her, that she'd gotten that explicitly with one person in her life, even being trapped down here so at least he wouldn't have to worry if she was actually alive somewhere.

"Bravely fought, Percy Jackson," he said. "But it's time to surrender . . . or the girl dies."

Thalia knew that hesitation in those last four words was from Nico reading for Kronos, not his own pause of saying something like that.

What killed her in that moment was that Luke hadn't woken up in there. That those eyes hadn't flashed blue upon seeing Annabeth like this. She knew he was capable of it, otherwise this couldn't have ended any other way, but she still felt hurt it hadn't been this. Thalia would have done anything to get Annabeth out of that situation just like Percy, why hadn't he?

"Percy, don't," Annabeth groaned. Her shirt was soaked with blood. I had to get her out of here.

"Still want that lucky kiss?" Annabeth shook her head as her hand came up to clench the old wound.

"From you? Always," Percy said, staring at her with the same smile he'd always had upon that first day in Camp. His mom had been presumed dead, he'd felt out of place and lost in his new home, but still he'd smiled at her just as he was now when she hadn't intervened upon his fight with Clarisse.

"Blackjack!" I yelled.

As fast as light, the pegasus swooped down and clamped his teeth on the straps of Annabeth's armor.

They soared away over the river before the enemy could even react.

"Best, pegasus, ever," Percy murmured for her ears alone. He wished he could wrap her in a blanket and possibly post Tyson over her bed to make sure she was never in this kind of danger again.

That just wasn't their life, even the fleeting idea felt ridiculous and she'd get herself out and then smack him on her way to the next thing he couldn't deal with without her.

"Yeah," she grinned up at him, like they were in their own little bubble of a world for just that moment again before Nico popped it as he kept reading without surprise. He'd known she survived, this wasn't his concern in the slightest. She still felt like slamming the book shut and taking a second to breathe as she still felt Percy's lips on hers, but that was his call, she was just along for the ride now.

Kronos snarled. "Some day soon, I am going to make pegasus soup.

"Talk about friends for dinner," Will frowned, dredging up a new kind of scowl as he saw the last page left lingering in Nico's hand. Was Percy even going to notice the fallout as he ran off after her the second he got?

"We will not be talking about that," Percy gave him an intense look, Micheal's thin, ferret-like face and dark hair looked nothing like Will really, but something of their noses and sharp eyes tried to overlap in Percy's brain all the same as he kept trying to pull Annabeth closer.

It was an odd moment where one easily ignored the other's random comment, lost in their own worlds.

But in the meantime . . ." He dismounted, his scythe glistening in the dawn light. "I'll settle for another dead demigod."

"He should settle for a lot lower," Alex scowled. "More so-so problems like the rest of us, bad hair day and morning breath. Hell, one night standards aren't even something to be looked down on as a standard."

She got a lot of blank stares for that and grinned they just didn't have the imagination to conjure up Kronos trying to pick out his wardrobe and checking his cowlick in the mirror.

I met his first strike with Riptide. The impact shook the entire bridge, but I held my ground. Kronos's smile wavered.

'Not so easy when you can't just win with a flick of your wrist,' Jason sneered. He kept the thought to himself only because he wanted to hear more of Percy kicking his ass to badly to bother with the obvious interruption.

With a yell, I kicked his legs out from under him. His scythe skittered across the pavement.

"Look who could kick a fridge across a room now," Nico told him without looking up.

"Oh yeah, you just know I'll do that in my mom's apartment and feel guilty as hell for it," Percy nodded.

I stabbed downward, but he rolled aside and regained his footing. His scythe flew back to his hands.

Percy replayed that in his head a couple of times with annoyance. Why couldn't the gods just do that so easily when they lost their crap? Why couldn't Riptide do that instead of having to wait precious moments to return to his pocket? Then Nico kept reading and he had to remind himself that really wasn't the point right now.

"So . . ." He studied me, looking mildly annoyed. "You had the courage to visit the Styx. I had to pressure Luke in many ways to convince him.

Annabeth's mouth opened in a gaping display of all her teeth Percy tried not to be to phased at. This obviously hurt her, he tried to pull her somehow closer and she willingly went like she couldn't get enough, but he didn't need to be a mind reader to know that her every thought was now plagued with Luke, again. What pressures Kronos had used, how many times had he refused before he gave in, what had been the catalyst?

Percy moved his hand to her other arm, rubbing his palm gently up and down there like he was trying to warm her as she started shivering. He remembered Hermes's harsh words, that must have been the god's idea of some bizarre scenario about her missing a chance to save him. From what he could tell, she'd done everything and more than what was ever asked of her in that regards.

If only you had supplied my host body instead . . .

Percy would rather have live bugs crawling inside him than that sense of disgust that just passed through him. Thankfully the closest Kronos would ever get to his mind was annoying his dreams.

But no matter. I am still more powerful. I am a TITAN."

He struck the bridge with the butt of his scythe, and a wave of pure force blasted me backward. Cars went careening. Demigods—even Luke's own men—were blown off the edge of the bridge.

Not that this surprised a single one of them, but they all flinched anyways. It's like Kronos was broadcasting why Percy would never give him more than a finger of his time.

Suspension cords whipped around, and I skidded halfway back to Manhattan.

I got unsteadily to my feet. The remaining Apollo campers had almost made it to the end of the bridge, except for Michael Yew, who was perched on one of the suspension cables a few yards away from me, his last arrow was notched in his bow.

"Michael, go!" I screamed.

At least he'd tried, Will swallowed down a painful knot. He sort of wanted to hug Percy for that, and also shove a soiled bandage up his nose for not dragging him back kicking and screaming like he would have if it were Grover.

"Percy, the bridge!" he called. "It's already weak!"

He should have been fine, Will kept thinking over and over in his head. Micheal had once hung from his feet like a trapeze artist to aim his shot, he'd move across beams in pouring down rain and his balance was better than some kid who knew ballet. Will had already been a few inches taller than him at thirteen but had nothing on Micheal's ability to jump to any new perch he needed for a better vantage point on the thinnest of tree limbs. He should have been able to make it...

At first I didn't understand. Then I looked down and saw fissures in the pavement. Patches of the road were half melted from Greek fire. The bridge had taken a beating from Kronos's blast and the exploding arrows.

"Break it!" Michael yelled. "Use your powers!"

Kayla had told him in a broken voice those were Micheal's last words, that he'd encouraged Percy to do this and he'd of course succeeded in completing that blast to his full ability. Will didn't blame him, truly, but...

Percy never would have done that if Annabeth had been the one on that suspension line.

It was a desperate thought—no way it would work— but I stabbed Riptide into the bridge. The magic blade sank to its hilt in asphalt. Salt water shot from the crack like I'd hit a geyser. I pulled out my blade and the fissure grew. The bridge shook and began to crumble. Chunks the size of houses fell into the East River. 

Even if they'd kept that stupid chariot for themselves he still wouldn't have survived, Will kept swallowing and it hurt more every time. None of them had enough practice steering it through debris raining down, could have gotten out in time to catch him. There was nothing anybody could have done to prevent this. He was gone. He shouldn't be, but he was.

Kronos's demigods cried out in alarm and scrambled backward. Some were knocked off their feet.

Austin had watched, his scream unheard in the noise as Micheal had lost his previously flawless balance on his perch. He'd tried to regain it, throw his bow and grab that cable with both hands, but he'd seen the panic, then acceptance as his feet lost against the force.

He and Kayla had been whispering about it when Will had come upon them hours later, their voices petrified like they'd slip off the edge of the world next while Eliza had been crying at the shore feet away watching the rest of their siblings continue the fruitless search.

Within a few seconds, a fifty-foot chasm opened in the Williamsburg Bridge between Kronos and me.

"Titan schmiten," Alex muttered, "I want whatever coked up shit Percy's on." Percy only hadn't won that fight because there were innocents around, she was sure of it after a display of power like that.

"Gods I hope you're kidding," Magnus sighed, knowing there wasn't a force on earth to stop Alex bathing in the styx if she really wanted to. He wondered vaguely who her godly parent was without much care and if they'd carelessly agree or try to warn her away. Even Posideon hadn't done much of either though so he wasn't sure what the basis of a god's opinion on this even was.

The vibrations died. Kronos's men crept to the edge and looked at the hundred-and-thirty-foot drop into the river.

I didn't feel safe, though. The suspension cables were still attached. The men could get across that way if they were brave enough. Or maybe Kronos had a magic way to span the gap.

Nico's brain easily filled in the gaps, of Kronos snapping his fingers and time reversing to put those chunks back together like nothing, to play the planet like a toy and reverse it to do his bidding like nothing had happened.

He wished he could do that for Will now, as a few silent tears fell, smudging the words on the page. He was sitting so close he could feel every breath, every bony press of his lightweight that had never once felt intrusive through his thick jacket.

While Nico might have asked for more breaks in here than anyone, he didn't feel the least bit self-conscious to do so again, especially not on Will's part if he needed a second. His hand was steady on his arm though. Nico wasn't entirely convinced that was a good measure on Will, he was always that steady, but he also trusted Will to admit when he needed something like that considering he'd been the one impressing upon Nico to do the same.

The Titan lord studied the problem. He looked behind him at the rising sun, then smiled across the chasm. He raised his scythe in a mock salute. "Until this evening, Jackson."

Jason instantly narrowed his eyes suspiciously at that. Why would sunrise stop Kronos? Even Alex's blasie' joke about vampires he vaguely heard didn't cut through his intense concentration of trying to understand what scheme was being plotted, that would take so long to set in instead of leaping across that space and accomplishing the maximum amount of distraction now when Percy was shaken and his forces weakened.

He mounted his horse, whirled around, and galloped back to Brooklyn, followed by his warriors.

I turned to thank Michael Yew, but the words died in my throat. Twenty feet away, a bow lay in the street. Its owner was nowhere to be seen.

Why did it hurt worse knowing this would be the outcome all along, Nico frowned. He'd known Will was the head of his cabin, obviously his older brother would have died on this bridge, but still he'd spent every word up to this point hoping in vain he was wrong. That Will wasn't hurting because of that, but some other problem like they'd run out of ambrosia. Like knowing the second Percy had found himself on the edge of that desert his sister was on her last moments of life and still spending the entire time in here wishing he was wrong.

'Because you'd hoped for the best anyways,' a small little voice whispered in his mind that sounded suspiciously like Will. He'd never been an optimist before, he wanted to give that thought a good hand wave away, but he instead sat in a long moment of silence nobody broke as he watched Will's sad blue eyes lost in his own thoughts.

"Oh," Percy's quiet whisper was the first to break the long-held breath. He felt the instinct to dive into the water and find him, but finally the look on the son of Apollo's face connected with the pain in Percy's head he hadn't wanted. "Will, I'm, I'm so sorry." He wanted to get angry. He wanted to get in Clarisse's face and ask if she was happy now. His hands wanted to throw Riptide far away and hope it never came back this time at his own capability of destruction. How had he not accidentally killed Nico?! He clearly had no real control over the chaos he brought to everyone's life.

"Yeah, me too," Will didn't sound angry, just tired. Tired of losing people, tired of the days he spent at camp with the weight of his siblings on his back when all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep. Tired of the guilt that would never let him do more than grit his teeth but get up all the same to see what they needed instead of muttering where to find someone else.

Having to adjust to three heads of a cabin in less than a year could do that to you.

"No!" I searched the wreckage on my side of the bridge. I stared down at the river. Nothing.

I yelled in anger and frustration. The sound carried forever in the morning stillness. I was about to whistle for Blackjack to help me search, when my mom's phone rang. The LCD display said I had a call from Finklestein & Associates—probably a demigod calling on a borrowed phone.

Magnus silently showed Alex the sign for lawyer he randomly remembered, his smile forced, but his mind amusedly offering up the image all the same of someone trying to deliver Percy court documents at a time like this.

Will had heard all of that, back in his tent. The destruction, Percy's scream, then the sound of more phones ringing as he'd been checking a boy's IV he didn't even know the name of, he must have gotten there mere weeks ago. The Williamsburg Bridge had been so close by, he'd known.

He'd kept working, putting it all away like the rest of the kids crying in pain around him until Percy had come bursting through the tent. He'd expected Percy to tell him what he'd already known. Instead he'd yanked him out babbling about Annabeth and Will had gone, handing over his clipboard to Eliza who was six and trying to give her messages to others to far spread out right now to convey everything he needed.

Hoping on the back of that bike and seeing the bridge as they sped off had been his split second to see it was true before he'd shut his eyes and felt it all for that flight over there only before it was right back to work.

I picked up, hoping for good news. Of course I was wrong.

"Percy?" Silena Beauregard sounded like she'd been crying.

She had, actually, on and off so much her siblings had seemed more worried for her than Annabeth unable to stay on her feet. Annabeth felt a faint moment of amusement as she imagined Percy leaping off the ground, cartoon-style exclamation point over his head and everything in fear as he threw the phone away at the mere idea of being back around a crying girl.

That wasn't fair, and a wild exaggeration she knew. Not after he'd tried to comfort her at Becekendorf's funeral.

Apparently it was just her crying he couldn't seem to handle.

"Plaza Hotel. You'd better come quickly and bring a healer from Apollo's cabin. It's . . . it's Annabeth."

If Nico couldn't look up from that and see her sitting right in front of him, he'd be half convinced Annabeth really was dead somewhere out there just from the universe laughing at him having to read that. Somehow, even in the retelling of Percy's life, death seemed to follow him specifically.

Will didn't reach for the book next. He still stayed tightly pressed against Nico as he gazed vacantly at nothing like the words hadn't quite registered a passing of the book should be coming by tone alone.

But Percy was shivering anxiously, lost in memory to know in as explicit detail as possible how Annabeth was alive as she curled into his side now.

So what was he supposed to do?

PJOPJOPJOPJO

*That is a quote from Homeward Bound II, and I tried to look up if it was a misquote done on purpose by the original character but couldn't find anything.

**This is a quote from Hellboy, and while not exactly an exclusive line only to him and Percy, I couldn't stop laughing when I read it in Ron Pearlmen's voice while picturing Percy and that's why I've been on the movie kick with him lately.

[charlenasaxen]

City of Fallen Angels Quotes

“heard the echo through the house. “Mom!” he shouted. “Mom, it’s me!”

“Mom,” he said again, but this time his voice wouldn’t rise. It came out as a hoarse whisper.”

“Suddenly he imagined his mother grabbing for one of the knives.

Before I kill you, monster.”

“If she struck out at him, the Mark would rise. It would destroy her”

“staring at the front door of his house, marked and disfigured with the symbols of his mother’s hate for him.

No, he reminded himself. She didn’t hate him. She thought he was dead.”

“Just after you left, Maryse came back down from the roof where Jace was supposed to be waiting. There was no one there.”

“Then you tell me why his body isn’t there, because it isn’t,” she said, her voice finally breaking”

“over the past two weeks Clary had spent enough time among the glittering mess to have begun to find it comforting”

“I’ll be back. Five minutes.

That had been the last thing she had said to the boy she loved”

“Jace’s mouth on hers, the only warm thing in a shivering world. Clasping the Morgenstern ring”

“Clary had seen her face—white and set and frantic—she had known”

“What had happened next had been like a dream. The crowd of Shadowhunters in the lobby had surged toward Maryse; Alec had broken away from Magnus, and Isabelle had leaped to her feet.”

“Tracking? That’ll work only if he’s still alive. With that much blood it’s not very likely—”

“sitting bolt upright with her heart going like a trip-hammer, sure she had had a nightmare”

“the fading bruises on her arms and legs told a different story, as did the absence of her ring”

“It was like tiny fishhooks embedded in your skin, pulling the truth out of you”

“Isabelle looked even more slender than usual—like Clary, she’d lost weight”

“It would have helped her guilt over having left Jace behind on that rooftop”

“Isabelle swept her black hair aside, glaring, and Clary realized she was the one being told off, not the cat”

“She never spoke of Jace as being dead or even gone—she and Alec refused to entertain the possibility”

“in fact, Isabelle had been her staunchest defender. Meeting her every day”

“shooting dagger glances at anyone who dared look at Clary sideways”

“she and Alec had been exhausted and gray-faced from sixteen-hour patrols and searches”

“the knowledge that the Seelie Queen never gave anything without the expectation of something terrible in return”

“Hey.” A slim figure stepped into the room and shut the door. Alec, Isabelle’s older brother, was dressed in Council wear”

“You’re cleared of any wrongdoing. You broke no Laws, and Jia feels that you’ve been punished enough.”

“Alec took a breath and put his hands up to cover his face”

“for us—this has always been about searching for Jace. For the Clave it’s about searching for Sebastian”

“Just another Shadowhunter,” said Isabelle. “We die and go missing all the time.”

“He gets a little extra for being a hero”

“That’s what they told us after Max died,” said Izzy, her black eyes tearless but burning with anger”

“If it’s any consolation, there were a lot of people at the meeting speaking out angrily on behalf of keeping the search for Jace up”

“He’s alive,” Alec said cautiously. “You think I’d be this functional if he weren’t alive?”

“Ways that break the Law, you mean,” said Alec. He sounded hesitant”

“I’ll take whatever debt it is on my shoulders.” Clary remembered the words of the faerie girl who had handed her the bell. You would do anything to save him, whatever it cost you”

“If Jace knew I let Clary go to the Seelie Queen, he’d—”

“Hell, you think I don’t want to burn down the world right now? I’m just trying to be…”

“An older brother,” said Isabelle. “I get it.”

“If something happened to you, Isabelle—after Max, and Jace—”

Izzy got to her feet, went across the room, and put her arms around Alec.”

“It was like always wanting a puppy for a pet and being handed a hellhound instead”

“I was thinking of going to Taki’s for dinner with Isabelle and Alec,” she said. “Just… to do something normal.”

“But Jace was never scared. He was never anything but sure we’d find our way out. It took hours, but he did it.”

“Failing wasn’t an option. I’m just saying—he’ll find his way back to you. I know it.”

Clary didn’t think she’d ever seen Izzy cry, and she was clearly trying not to now.”

“she couldn’t think about Jace when he was twelve, couldn’t think about him lost in the darkness, or she’d think about him now, lost somewhere, trapped somewhere, needing her help”

“They were eating wax,” the boy—Jules—supplied helpfully”

“Isabelle said, in a remarkably steady voice, “There are three of us.”

“I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

“None? Is that why you look so sad?”

“A little throb of hatred went through her, warming her icy blood. “Yes,” she said softly. “That’s why I’m sad.”

“You just said “Kiss the cook.”

“Dammit,” said Simon. “I knew Jace was screwing with me.”

“That’s what you remember about her? That she made Clary kiss Jace?”

“he added, half under his breath, “the way he got around before me, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“he didn’t blame Alec for ducking out from under it and taking his chances with the rain”

“She looked older. she was different from the girl she’d been when they had walked into the Pandemonium Club”

“She was starting to look, he realized with a jolt of surprise, like Jocelyn”

“There was no need to think. Where Clary went, he went. They had been through too much for it to be any other way. Isabelle followed suit, and lastly Alec”

“The four of them held hands tightly.

Clary rang the bell.”

“The floor was smooth, worn down by the passage of thousands of years’ worth of faerie feet”

“followed Meliorn through the curtain of tortured butterflies, hunching her shoulders in the hopes that no part of their wings would touch her”

“the only one likely to be moved by her beauty was Simon, and he hated her”

“Isabelle only made an irritable motion at her, indicating that she should keep going”

“I don’t believe you sent me that bell when you did—the same night Jace disappeared—without knowing something was brewing.”

“Alec’s chest was heaving. Isabelle stepped quickly to his side and took his arm. “Alec, it’s nothing. It’s a glamour.” She turned on the Queen. “Take it off him! Take it off!”

“I rather miss your Jace,” she said. “Of all of you, he was the prettiest and the best-mannered.”

“If it means finding Jace,” Isabelle said.

Alec nodded. “Whatever it takes.”

“For as is often the happenstance with that which is precious and lost, when you find him again, he may well not be quite as you left him.”

“How was the Seelie Queen?”

“Same as usual.”

“Raging bitch, then?”

“Alec sputtered. “As the person being objectified, I… object to that description”

“Photos of herself and Simon, the Lightwoods, herself with Jace”

“a new globe, given to her by Luke, that showed Idris, bordered in gold”

“But I left him, Izzy left him, Alec left him—and Alec’s his parabatai.”

“Warm is best, but I think your mom would balk at me heating it up in saucepans.”

“Jace, his face always hidden from her by shadows or a breath of cloud or his own shining hair as he turned away”

“He had. That night she had had no bad dreams.”

“He wants me to wear midriff-baring shirts and a fedora. I’m fighting it.”

Clary smiled faintly. “So your inner vampire is Magnus?”

“Faeries are liars.”

“They can’t lie.”

“You know what I mean. ‘Faeries are misleaders’ sounds lame, though.”

“does that mean if I accidentally kick you during the night, I get kicked in the shins seven times by an invisible force?”

“Man, I thought you’d forgotten you lived here,” Jordan said”

“One of Jace’s black jackets still dangled from a hook, the sleeves empty and ghostly”

“watching the light glint off his pale hair, the quick movements of his graceful hands, the flex of the muscles in his arms”

“a pendant in the shape of an angel whose wings were clockwork cogs”

“the Opening rune—Clary biting her lip as she drew it, careful not to make it too powerful lest the glass case burst apart”

“You were right, Jace,” came a voice—coolly amused, and horribly familiar—from below. “The place is deserted.”

“She had not felt a shock this intense since she had seen her father run a sword through Jace’s chest”

“more than damaged, had been missing”

“beside him, golden hair shimmering in the pale sunlight, was Jace. Not Jace as she had imagined him so often over the past two weeks—beaten or bleeding or suffering or starving”

“This was Jace as she remembered him, when she let herself remember—flushed and healthy and vibrant and beautiful”

“I’m always right, Sebastian,” he said. “You ought to know that about me by now.”

“Jace had fought him and won once but had nearly died in the process himself. In a hand-to-hand fight she would never beat her brother.”

“Jace looked up, his mouth curving upward. Clary wanted to run downstairs and throw herself at him”

“resting one hand on Sebastian’s arm for balance as he read over his shoulder. It was like watching Jace with Alec”

“My favorite jacket is an emergency item,” Jace said. It was so much like hearing him talk to Alec”

“Much like myself, it is both snuggly and fashionable.”

“you’ll be ruling this place in a few weeks. You can run your favorite jacket up the flagpole and fly it like a pennant.”

Jace laughed, that soft rich sound Clary loved.”

“But the ice in her veins had grown so cold, she was terrified that if she moved, she would shatter”

“Alec unfolded himself groggily out of his nest of pillows and blankets”

“I know, but you’re supposed to meet your sister and the others”

“Alec stared at him. “Am I the newest thing in this apartment?”

“he’s a historical figure. And his snuffbox is in your junk drawer. What else is in there? Jonathan Shadowhunter’s toenail clippers?”

“Bull,” Alec said bluntly, buttoning his shirt. “What you’re not is forthcoming, sweet pea”

“Alec’s throat tightened. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but he had never been good with words like Jace and Magnus were.”

“More than—more than almost anything else. But I don’t want her to know.”

“My mom tossed out Jace when she thought he was Valentine’s son and a spy—then she regretted it horribly.”

“I could never, ever cut Alec off. No matter what he did. Never. Or Jace.”

“My little brother died. I won’t ever see him again. Don’t put your sister through that.”

“No way would Alec have thought to buy something like that himself. The concept of matching seemed to be beyond him.”

“Clary appeared before them, her stele in one hand and her face wet with tears”

“It’s me, Isabelle,” she said. “You honestly think I wouldn’t recognize Jace?”

“Like, Sebastian is threatening him that if Jace doesn’t go along with his plans, Sebastian will hurt someone he cares about.”

“But this was Jace. He was making jokes like Jace does. Smiling like him.”

“Alec objected. “How did he look? Hurt, or sick in any way? Can you describe them both?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked.”

“Unless he couldn’t risk sending a message. He’d believe we would trust him. We do trust him.”

“If they think he’s cooperating with Sebastian, the mandate will be to kill him on sight”

“If Jace is possessed, the Clave will kill him themselves. We can’t tell them anything.” His voice was hard.”

“He won’t go to the Council. Not if I ask him not to.”

“He’d better not,” said Isabelle indignantly. “Otherwise, worst boyfriend ever.”

“I said he wouldn’t—”

“Not if you value your skin the way it is.”

“that was just a glamour. She’ll probably turn Clary into a lobster or something.”

“It’s a good thing we know the person who’s dating Magnus,” he said. “Otherwise, I get the feeling we’d all just lie around all the time wondering what the hell to do next. Or try to raise the money to hire Magnus by selling lemonade.”

“It’s an expression. We are all aware that your boyfriend is expensive.”

“She, who had never kept secrets from Jocelyn—not real ones, anyway—was about to go home and hide something enormous”

“Something she could talk about only with people like Alec and Isabelle Lightwood and Magnus Bane, people that six months ago she hadn’t known existed”

“Each breath a breath closer to aging and dying. Each night spinning him closer to the end of everything.”

“It was as if all the frustration, panic, and despair of the past weeks exploded out”

“he silently thanked Jace, who had made him practice flips over and over in the training room until he could use almost any surface to get himself airborne”

“she responded with an impressive torrent of filth that involved his sex life with Magnus, her sex life with Magnus, and there might have been more”

“Have you had enough?” he snarled. “Do you want more?” He began to force her hand back”

“It was like having your car break down on a lonely road, rooting desperately around in the trunk, and triumphantly pulling out an electrical extension cord instead of jumper cables”

“Maybe at this point I’m just searching because it feels wrong to give up.”

“Although, he seems to be generally considered stunningly attractive.”

“Are you going to pull that straight-guy thing where you pretend that you can’t tell whether other guys are attractive or not?”

“I think Jace comes out slightly ahead. If you like that whole chiseled, blond, Abercrombie-and-Fitch-wishes-they-could-afford-me thing.” ”

“And beside Sebastian was Jace, his gold hair the only color in the frozen landscape”

“wings burst from his back, white-gold and shimmering. Clary slid the last few feet to the frozen surface of the lake and collapsed”

“Jace,” she whispered.

And he was there, lifting her to her feet, his wings wrapping around her, and she was warm again”

“Clary,” he said, stroking her hair tenderly. “Can you promise me that you won’t scream?”

“Beside her was Jace, lying on his side, looking down at her, his head propped on his hand. Dim moonlight made a halo out of his hair”

“one hand clamped down over her mouth. His legs straddled her hips; she could feel his lean, muscled body”

“Jace, her Jace, had never looked at her like that. He had looked at her with desire, but not with this lazy, predatory, consuming look”

“the muscles of his flat, hard stomach against her bare skin. Her face flushed.”

“I was expecting more of a ‘Hallelujah Chorus.’ I mean, it’s not every day your boyfriend comes back from the dead.”

“He let his breath out in a low chuckle. “I knew you were there too. I could feel it.”

“I’m still Jace,” he said. “I still love you.”

“Well, well,” Jace said. “You may have the worst timing since Napoléon decided the dead of winter was the right moment to invade Russia.”

“They didn’t look alike, but they moved alike. As if—

As if they’d been trained to move by the same person.”

“Jace sat up, tugging his shirt down. “Give us five minutes.”

“Something flashed in his eyes, darkening their gold”

“I wasn’t planning on kissing you.” He grinned in a way that at another time she would have found adorable.”

“Tests are hard. Obstacle courses are hard. You disappearing like that practically killed me, Jace. And what do you think you’ve done to Alec? Isabelle? Maryse?”

“Oh, yes, I was going to ask.” He smiled like an angel. “Is everyone looking for me?”

“all that familiarity and beauty and that lovely predatory smile that said he was willing to do whatever with her”

“I was hoping they’d put up flyers like they do for lost cats,” he said. “Missing, one stunningly attractive teenage boy. Answers to ‘Jace,’ or ‘Hot Stuff.’”

“she was frozen, her eyes locked on his. Silvery moonlight outlined the curves of his mouth, the shape of his cheekbones, the shadow of his lashes, the arch of his throat.”

“The last time I ‘came with you somewhere,’ I wound up knocked unconscious and dragged”

“He killed Max, Jace,” she said. “Your little brother.”

He flinched”

“No.” Clary shook her head. “He’s not your brother. He’s mine.”

“Did you just call your own brother collateral damage?” Her voice rose in an incredulous half shout”

“You do—you still love me, don’t you?”

“I love Jace Lightwood,” she said. “I don’t know who you are.”

“a scream shattered the silence. A scream, and the sound of breaking glass.

Clary knew the voice instantly. It was her mother.”

“He could have stepped out of Hodge’s photograph of Valentine at seventeen years old”

“Jace burst out of the hallway, took in the scene in front of him”

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered. “Dead. I saw your bones turned to ashes.”

“Strong, handsome, looks just like dear old Dad.”

“I want what’s owed to me. In this case the Morgenstern legacy.”

“The Morgenstern legacy is blood and devastation,” said Jocelyn. “We are not Morgensterns here.”

“Clary moved to stand in front of Jace, reflexively”

“But for you—my Jonathan—it’s much too late.”

“You look like you always did, from the moment I first saw you. You look like a demon thing.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For not killing you when you were born”

“Your father taught you to feign human emotion the way one might teach a parrot to repeat words. It doesn’t understand what it’s saying, and neither do you.”

“Jace sucked in his breath. She whirled to look at him. There was a spreading red stain across the front of his shirt.”

“Clary darted across the room, throwing herself between Jocelyn and Sebastian. “Mom,” she gasped. “Stop.”

“little sister defending her big brother.”

“If you kill him, Jace dies. He’s already bleeding. Mom, please.”

“Valentine’s son,’” he said. “Is that really how you think of me? Under other circumstances you could have been my godfather.”

“Luke, sliding his finger onto the trigger, “you could have been human.”

“Jace exploded into movement, launching himself from beside Clary, flipping over the sofa, and slamming into Luke”

“Jace turned back toward the older man.

“Luke—” he began.

Luke hit him.”

“the shock of it, seeing Luke, who had stood up for Jace countless times actually strike Jace across the face was as if he had hit Clary instead”

“Jocelyn screamed. The sound was worse than the sound of the bullet shattering the window”

“Jace swung into her field of vision and she saw the blood on his mouth where Luke had hit him”

“Enough!” Jace grabbed Sebastian by the back of the jacket. He was pale”

“His eyes met Clary’s. His lips shaped words—and then both of them were gone”

“for a moment was amazed at her mother’s calm. But then this was the woman who had once stood in the ashes of her home, surrounded by the blackened bodies of her family, including her parents and son, and had gone on from that.”

“the edges of the gray towel began to turn scarlet with blood”

“She thought of Jace kissing her—it felt like days ago instead of hours—and her stomach hurt”

“why anyone would want to drink warm sour water”

“And look what came of that. Jonathan. If I hadn’t stayed with your father, he wouldn’t exist—”

“Neither would I”

“Clary knew that look. That was herself looking at Jace. Alec didn’t return the gaze, though.”

“It’s true, what Magnus said? You saw Jace again?”

“Clary knew exactly what he was asking; for once she and Alec understood each other better than anyone else in the room”

“Alec demanded, with an odd blend of anger and vulnerability. “How is he different?”

“Did he say anything about me? Or Izzy? Did he ask about us?”

Clary shook her head, hardly able to stand the look on Alec’s face.”

“I’ll get that. Who knows who else might be on the run? It’s not like there are hotels in this city.”

“Because of what Jace means to me.” He raised his sleeve, showing Jocelyn the parabatai rune”

“Valentine said that when Luke became a Downworlder, he felt it. That sense of wrongness.”

“You can feel it when your parabatai dies—like there was a cord tying you to something and it has snapped”

“I felt it, once, in Idris, during the battle. But it was so brief—and when I returned to Alicante, Jace was alive.”

“dimensional pockets can be created that prevent magic from being able to find you. After all, you’re not here—you’re there.”

“to save the last of the Herondale bloodline, I consider that

of higher importance than the fealty I render the Clave”

“Should one die, the other will follow. No weapon in this world can wound only one of them.”

“Not to mention,” Magnus noted, “that Jace killed him. That would put anyone off.”

“Alec threw his hands up. “So they love each other now? They’re best friends?” The hurt and jealousy was plain in his tone.”

“What he believes, Jace will believe. What he wants, Jace will do.”

“He still loves you, said Brother Zachariah, and his voice was surprisingly gentle. You are the central point about which his world spins. That has not changed.”

“No one’s looking for me specifically, and it’s better that she not go alone”

“Clary rose to her feet. “I’ve been practically a prisoner for the past two weeks”

“Clary lost it. “Every time you try to keep me safe, you wreck my life!”

“I have a job offer for you,” said Raphael.

“Seriously? You short-staffed at the hotel?”

“I would pay you extra money to remain entirely silent while you worked.”

“If I were in a joking mood, I would spend that time with someone I liked.”

“if you want it in vampire language—it affords me great pleasure, my liege, to say to you now: Hell, no.”

“mostly suck. No pun intended.”

“there will be a line of enemies waiting their turn to kill you. And I will be at the head of it.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t looking for you, either,” she said, pushing past him”

“Jordan followed, buttoning his jeans and muttering about how there was nothing strange about having a pattern of dancing penguins on your underwear”

“Wrong?” Isabelle threw up her hands. “You mean other than the fact that my brother has disappeared”

“brainwashed by the evil demon who murdered my other brother”

“Where’d you learn to drink like that?” He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or frightened.”

“She saved Jace’s life. She could have had anything from the Angel Raziel, and she saved my brother.”

“I’ve only ever trusted a few people in my life. Really trusted. My mother, Alec, Jace, and Max. I lost one of them already. Clary’s the only reason I didn’t lose another.”

“Clary saved a Lightwood. I owe her my life. If I can’t give her that—and I don’t see how she has any use for it—”

“he remembered Simon warning him, with wryness, that Clary had “the nuclear bomb of boyfriends.”

“You mean Simon?”

“Scrawny little mundane bastard”

“You’re not so bad,” she said. “If you want, I can say nice things to Maia about you.”

“wasn’t sure what Izzy’s version of nice things was, and feared finding out”

“in that reasonable tone that only very drunk people ever employed”

“I’ll knock on the window, and I’ll tell him how I feel.”

“Do you even know which window is Clary’s?”

“The horrible vision of a drunk Isabelle waking up Jocelyn and Luke floated through”

“She stood up, looked down at her feet with a surprised expression—and fell over backward”

“My plans are not terrible.”

“Isabelle’s plans are terrible.” He pointed a finger at her. “Your plans are suicidal. ”

“I would pluck out my own eyes with a fork before I would give away your secrets. Wait a second. Do you think that’s likely to be required?”

“the Simon-ness of him”

“now that I’m in your mind, want to see some naked mental pictures of Jace?”

“You’ve seen him naked?

Well, not entirely. But I—”

“we use these rings to communicate so those of us over here in the regular dimension of Earth can track you down? That plan?”

“Let me introduce you to my good friend No.”

“Yes,” Clary said, “Jace won’t find that odd at all. You can just tell him you’ve always been secretly in love with him and you can’t stand being parted.”

“I might have better luck telling him I’m in love with him. Jace thinks everyone’s in love with him anyway.”

“But I,” said Clary, “actually am.”

“You’re serious,” he said finally. “You’d actually do this.”

“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Jace.”

“But the actions we take in the name of love, those are moral or immoral”

“Finally he said, “I’d never say that. I’m still Jewish, you know, even if I am a vampire.”

“He made a covenant with us”

“Therefore you can never lose hope”

“Just remember, when your mother’s gnawing my ankle like a furious mama bear separated from her cub, I did it for you.”

“Jace,” she said. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Isabelle sagged against the door. “Is he—” Her voice cracked. She started again. “Have they found—”

“You can’t just call the Praetor. It’s not like 1-800-WEREWOLF.”

“Jace.” Isabelle’s voice was an indrawn breath. “Is Jace all right? Did they hurt him or catch him or—”

“Someone will tell. Then it’ll be a manhunt. They’ll kill him just to kill Sebastian. They’ll kill him anyway.”

“I want my brother,” she said. “I want to see Alec.”

“Part of her wanted to rush up the steps, knowing Alec was there and would understand”

“reminded herself that she was here because they had asked for her. They needed her.”

“Isabelle didn’t mind being needed. Liked it, in fact. It was why it had taken her longer to warm up to Jace”

“a thin ten-year-old boy with haunted pale gold eyes. Alec had been delighted with him immediately, but Isabelle had resented his self-possession.”

“Even at ten years old he’d had a sharp, defensive wit and an acidic temperament. In fact, Isabelle had thought, dismayed, that he was just like her.”

“it was Shadowhunting they had bonded over”

“When Alec had wanted to go out hunting alone with Jace, leaving Izzy behind, Jace had spoken up for her: “We need her with us; she’s the best there is. Aside from me, of course.”

She had loved him just for that.”

“Alec looked up and saw her, and sprang to his feet, hurrying to put his arms around her”

“How can you say that?” she snapped. “How can anything possibly be okay after this?”

“tugged gently at it. It reminded her of the years when she used to wear her hair in braids and Alec would yank on them, with considerably less gentleness.

“We need you.”

“Also, did you know you smell like tequila?”

“so that they can be hurt separately—Well, you know what I mean”

“It may not be Jace,” said Magnus, “but if he dies, your Jace dies right along with him.”

“Of course he isn’t,” Isabelle snapped. “Jace—”

“Jace,” said Magnus, and his hands made fists”

“You’ve lost me. Jace is our brother, but for Alec—He’s Jace’s parabatai, too.”

“There is nothing weak about Alec,” said Isabelle”

“this is where he would come. She sat down on the top step, pulled her backpack onto her lap, and waited.”

“Clary’s mother apparently regarded him as about as sexually threatening as a goldfish”

“I’m never scared, but I’m scared for Jace. I’m scared for my brother. I never ask you for anything, Simon, but I’m asking you now. Please come.”

“He was out of the apartment and on his way down the steps before it had even hit the floor”

“Alec was asleep, his head in Magnus’s lap, and Magnus was twirling strands of Alec’s black hair”

“He’d never seen Isabelle sleeping before. She looked younger than she usually did, her face relaxed”

“her feet curled up under her. She was wearing only a T-shirt—his T-shirt”

“Simon Lewis, Molester of Passed-Out Women” wasn’t really the epitaph by which he wanted to be remembered”

“Something where the good guys win and the bad guys lose. And stay dead.”

“Okay. I’ve got a good one. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”

“Jace was not patient. And he didn’t play games.”

“that she would meet Jace this afternoon for practice, or tonight for dinner, and he would hold her and make her laugh the way he always did”

“And he was there, walking toward her up the steps, as soundless as a cat, as always. He wore a dark blue sweater that made his hair look like sunlight.”

“He reached her and held his hands out; she took them, and let him pull her to her feet. His pale gold eyes searched her face. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

“You were pretty angry before.” He cupped the side of her face”

“He drew her close. He was shivering too, and the wind was blowing his curling hair”

“Jace, thinking she was cold, pulled her more tightly against him. “He’ll be all right,” she said guardedly.”

“Faith,” he said softly. “You have to have faith.”

“Her life had changed in that moment in a way that could never be undone.

“There never has been any going back,” she said. “Not with you.”

“He smiled, as brilliant as the sun coming out from behind the clouds, and she felt his body relax”

“He leaned forward and kissed her”

“The golden feathers burned like fire where they touched her skin, but the black feathers were as cold as ice”

“The next room was clearly Jace’s. She knew it the minute she walked in. It smelled like him, like his cologne and soap and the scent of his skin.”

“it was pinning a photograph in place. A photograph of herself and Jace, taken by Izzy”

“His hand covered hers, almost absently, and he was smiling”

“hadn’t known he was smiling like that, not until now. Her throat contracted”

“It was the small box of her mother’s, the one with the initials J.C. on it”

“Clary knew what was in the box—a lock of hair, as fine and white as dandelion fluff; scraps from a child’s shirt; a baby shoe”

“the door was just opening, Alec emerging in a cloud of steam”

“Alec looked at her. “We like sandalwood.”

Isabelle made a face. “Either that’s the royal ‘we’ or you and Magnus are turning into one of those couples”

“With a smile like a wolf’s, he ruffled her hair. “Good to see you, little sister.”

“Were you hugging Clary?” He looked at Sebastian in amazement.”

“You don’t hug people,” Jace said.

“I ran out of time to bake a casserole.”

“What were you doing up here?” Jace asked.

“Looking for you.”

“They were in Venice. There was bread, Italian cheeses, salami and prosciutto, grapes and fig jam, and bottles of Italian wine.”

“I wouldn’t have thought of Valentine as…”

“Owning a flat-screen TV?” Jace grinned at her. “Not that it gets channels, but you can watch DVDs”

“They were for our mother. In case she decided to come back.”

“She felt a little sick. This is my brother, and we’re talking about our parents.”

“See the world?” Jace said lightly. “There’s worse things.”

“In you. She loves you. That’s why she’s here. Isn’t it?”

“If Jace trusts you, then I want to trust you,” she said. “And you’re my brother.”

“We’ll tell you. Our plans. In his mind there was a him and Jace; there was no Jace and Clary.”

“Jace gave him a look. “Two weeks ago you were dead.”

“Well, I wasn’t suggesting two weeks,” said Sebastian. “That would be insane.”

Jace’s mouth quirked”

“He was deciding what he was going to allow Jace to do, Clary realized.”

“Fine,” he said at last, his voice rich with condescension. “If you’re with her.”

“The idea of a Jace who was allowed to do things—Jace, who always did whatever he wanted—made her sick”

“Isabelle felt a little jolt. For all that Jocelyn looked like her daughter, her thin long hands, flexible and delicate, were Sebastian’s.”

“Isabelle remembered slicing one of those hands off”

“Isabelle raised her hands over the chasm. “Ignis aurum probat,” she said, and used the dagger to cut open her left palm”

“a flash of blue light, and a creaking noise. The drawbridge was slowly lowering.”

“They mean that adversity tests one’s strength of character. In difficult times, in dark times, some people shine.”

“you won’t be able to help it.”

“It’s very simple,” she said. “I want you to kill Raphael Santiago.”

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

prompt: hiadt alec & chairman ☺️

“I’m tired. This isn’t fucking fair,” he exhales, running a hand through his face.

“Finally,” Jace mutters.

Alec raises his head. “What?”

“You’re finally admitting that this isn’t fair.”

“Of course this isn’t fair. Did you think I was having the time of my life or what?”

“We didn’t,” Izzy sighs and brushes his hair off of his face, smiling sadly. “But this is the first you’re acknowledging that this whole thing is fucked.”

He sighs tiredly.

Of course this isn’t fair.

Not of a single fucking this about this is okay. He knows that. He’s angry about it too. He just doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be angry at.

Magnus? No.

God? Possibly.

It’s been a horrible day, it always is this time of the year but today, without Magnus by his side, the pain is boiling like a hot lava. It thrums under his veins, his every cell, every breath he takes.

Alec just needs today to end.

Just then, his doorbell rings.

“I’m not moving,” he groans.

Jace goes up to open the door and there are a few hushed hushed voices before something crawls up his feet. Alec looks down and his eyes widen as they land on Chairman.

“Chairman?” Alec says, surprise evident on his face as he picks up the cat and brings it against his chest. “What are you doing here?”

Alec lifts his head up at Jace questioning.

“Magnus came.”

“He’s here?”

“Yeah. Outside.”

Magnus stands in the hallway, a sheepish expression on his face. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you were having a bad day. I don’t know the reason for it but I guessed that you’d like having Chairman for a while,” Magnus explains, breathlessly.

Oh.

That’s the Magnus Alec knows and loves.

Not the version that’s been acting like Alec’s existence is causing him an inconvenience.

This.

This is his Magnus.

“You’ll be okay without Chairman?” He asks.

“I’ll survive,” he replies. Magnus turns to leave but then he stops again. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

Magnus exhales. “Is there anything I can do?”

You forgot the most important thing in the world. There’s nothing you can do to help me now.

“Chairman helps. Thank you.”

[envihellbender]

Michael being psychologically abused perhaps

Rating: Mature

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Michael Shelley, Elias Bouchard

Content: Archivist Michael Shelley & The Distortion John Sims AU, psychological abuse, gaslighting, role swap

Summary: Archivist Michael Shelley wishes to discuss his encounter with the Distortion Jonathon Sims with his boss Elias Bouchard, Elias however has other plans.

—

Michael swallowed as he stood outside of Elias’s door, he took a moment to toy with the red cat’s cradle he used to calm himself around his fingers for a moment before slipping it back into his pocket. He’d been fidgeting with it the whole walk to Elias’s office but knew he’d be scolded for his lack of professionalism if he did so in front of him. It was baffling to him, because he could see everywhere and he didn’t seem to care when it happened without him in the room. Michael tried not to think about, instead preparing himself for what he and his researcher Gerry talked about. There was a strange being living beneath Michael’s office, a distorted man with what looked like twisted broken bones and black type writer text all over his skin. Michael hadn’t stopped being able to think about what John said regarding him and Elias, Gerry didn’t think there was any point in discussing it with Elias but Michael felt like they ought to try. Finally, after a deep breath and Michael bending so he didn’t hang his head against the frame, he knocked on the boss’s door, he almost stumbled as he heard the amused voice is tell him to come in.

“Good afternoon, Mister Bouchard,” Michael said with a shaking voice, he was always nervous around Elias but not usually this much. He didn’t take a seat opposite the large man who took up the entirety of gigantic green velvet armchair.

“Michael. Can I help you?” Elias asked, so smoothly that if a fly sat on the tip of his tongue it would barely move.

“Yes. Yes, you see. Sir, I have- I have a question to ask, if that’s- if that’s alright,” Michael stammered, he swallowed and tried to straighten his back. He pulled at the string of his jumper absently, anxiety building up as he did. He didn’t look directly at Elias, instead his eyes drifted to just behind his head at the strange green wallpaper that adorned the walls.

“Mm? Of course, Michael, do sit down,” Elias said, not looking up from his work. When Michael’s tall body awkwardly folded into the comfortable chair, he muttered a word of thanks but he stared at the table instead. He saw Gerard’s name on a piece of paper, he craned his neck only for it to be pulled away and slipped into a folder. It was a sudden snatching motion, one that felt deliberate. “So what would you-”

“Hang on, what was that?” Michael interrupted, his eyes fixated on Elias’s fingers. They were wrapped in brown adipose, knitted together and held on top of the offending folder.

“What was what?” Elias asked cordially. He slowly began to edge the file closer to him keeping out of reach of his new archivist.

“That statement. It had Gerry’s name on it.”’ Michael narrowed his eyes and stared at the green folder, he could feel there was something odd about it.

“What statement?” When Elias asked this question yet again Michael wanted to pull out his hair and yell until his throat grew raw.

“The one that you-” Michael was starting to wondered, there were a lot of names similar to Gerard he supposed. He could have misread it but…why put it back into the folder? Why hide it?

“You said you had a question for me, Michael?” Elias’ tone had become little sharp and impatient.

“I- right. Yes. I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about Jonathan Sims?” When Michael spoke the name there was a change in the atmosphere, Elias stared with narrowed eyes and there was something heavy and unspoken filling tue room. Everything in that moment told Michael that whilst John might not be trustworthy, neither was Elias.

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” The boss said slowly, his tone and words heavier, it was so thick with unspoken subtext it sounded as if he would choke.

“Well, he used to work here-” Michael began, he spoke slowly, he was prepared to be interrupted. Sure enough a sharp snap of Elias’s plump lips was thrown towards Michael.

“I don’t remember all of the employees of the institute-”

“No. No, in the Archivesl

“Michael, are you alright?”

“I- of course.” Michael was thrown by the question, he stared at Elias. It was such a caring, unexpected comment that he began to wonder if he actually was okay, on the one hand he was terrified but because of Elias. Outside of him, and the wound he’d received from Jonathan Sims, he felt… okay? He thought?

“Are you sleeping well? Elias pressed, clearly not letting the matter drop.

“Yes- Yes. I don’t see how this is-”

“Michael. Your stuttering,” Elias interrupted. Michael swallowed and began to curl in on himself as his entire body felt watched, eyes grew inside of his body ensuring that every small corner of his inside and outside was under observation. “Look at you.” Elias’s voice had become a sneering and snide, a weapon used to keep Michael submissive.

“I- Why are you- stop-”

“You’re shaking, a shaking whimpering mess. Are you going to wet yourself, Michael? Are you crying? How pathetic. You are positively deranged, aren’t you? A pathetic psychotic little freak. Just like your mother. Perhaps you’ll share a room with her when your madness finally catches up with you. Do you want to know how she feels when she’s alone in her room Michael? Do you want to know how she feels about you? Do you want her to see whats happening in your mind?”

“No- no. I-“ Michael let out an anguished cry and fell to his knees, his hands tangled in his blond curls and tugging. Suddenly, it stopped. The room felt less threatening and the paintings no longer moved, the eyes that were watching him had grown static and his body was his own again. When he shakily got to his feet, he looked up to see Elias looking through paperwork as if nothing had happened.

“Well is there anything else, Michael?” Elias said with a warm smile. All of the sadism that radiated from him before, the power, it had dissipated. Michael almost began to doubt it had happened at all.

“I- you- what we were- what you said before-” Michael spluttered nervously taking a step back before the door.

“I believe you asked to book in some days off in the next couple of weeks and I allowed it, I appreciate you coming to me and not going through Rosie she has been forgetful lately,” Elias continued as if nothing had happened, if anything he looked a little confused.

“I- okay, yeah, I’ll- I better get back to work,” Michael said with his voice shaking and his still feeling weak and fragile. What Elias told him rang through his head, thoughts of his mother gripping his body far too tightly imagining being exposed to his mother and her decaying mental health every day. He took a deep breath and turned away, he walked away awkwardly, trying to get his bearings and remembering he said he would see Gerry in the break room. Why? He thought. Was he planning on doing something with him during the time off he asked for? He tried to think of what had happened before he’d entered Elias’ office but all he received was a jabbing pain in his temples.

[forthedancingandthethriving]

A prince slowly paces back and forth, inside the castle. Outside, the coronation area was being set up.

He wore a black suit, with a purple dress shirt underneath. Black dress pants and shoes finished off his look, complimenting his dark blue fur. He wasn't exactly a Russian Blue cat like his predecessor, but it didn't matter. He just had to be careful about how he walked in the light, he didn't want any yellow or orange appearing.

He adjustes his outfit before turning his head, seeing his 'father's' former attendant approaching. She had been more than happy to come back now that the 'son' was here.

"Your Highness, everything is nearly complete," she says, her tail flicking gently. "We haven't gotten word back from the other royals, though."

He puts on a sad yet understanding smile. "I don't blame them. After all my father has done, they are no doubt going to be suspicious of me." He sighs softly. "We must simply let them come to their own conclusions."

She nods, a warm smile on her face. Their new king would be far better than the old one.

○●○

"I still find it hard to imagine he managed to find someone to have a child with.."

Prince Damien hums softly as he approaches the royals of Haromnia. His eyes flick over all of them and the others they brought. They all seem surprised, yet pleased.

"Well, would ya look at that." Queen Alina places a paw on her hip, her formal dress suspiciously close to that of a pirate's. "The lad is real!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Damien." Queen Melody smiles. "Apologies for none of us being here sooner.."

"Ah, it's fine." Damien shakes his head, holding up a paw. "Considering all my father has done, it's not exactly hard to believe that you all wouldn't really trust the letter."

King Magnus chuckles. "Well, we see you now. Hopefully, you'll do big things, Damien."

The soon-to-be king smiles. "I hope so too."

As the group began to talk and discuss, Damien spun the story he'd spun so many times before. His father had him with a commoner, his mother. Yet she grew sick and pleaded with Umbra to take Damien, and the king reluctantly agreed. However, Umbra was ashamed of having a child out of wedlock and hid Damien, and the prince preferred to stay hidden because of his father's behavior and actions. Only the court knew of his existence, but even then he was limited in his interactions with them.

"I remember always listening to Tonio's music.." Damien smiles wistfully. "I hope that maybe he'll return and I can apologize for what my father had done.."

"What had he done?"

"It's.. not my place to say." He didn't want to admit that he didn't know. It was the one thing he couldn't figure out as he integrated himself into this world.

As they continue to talk, getting to know one another, a black cat walks past. He wears nothing blue, a black tunic, brown pants, and brown shoes, but all the monarchs and the Songbird present have their ears flick toward him. Damien has to force his ear to flick.

Unus. He thinks, watching the Muse head over to find a seat.

This would be interesting.

As he nods and parts ways, heading over to the stage to make sure the final preparations, when a ginger tabby clad in black steps in front of him.

"Pardon me, your highness."

Damien narrows his eyes before his ears perk upwards, and he puts on an elated face. "Tonio! I never expected you to come back!"

Tonio chuckles, though his tail is up, as if on alert. He supposes it makes sense. "Well, with Umbra finally out of commission, I believed a homecoming was due, no?"

The prince smiles somberly. "I feel a bit down knowing that only now you've felt safe to return." As he walks away, he turns his head a bit. "Hopefully I'll do well enough for you to feel safe to visit."

As the prince walks off, Tonio merely narrows his eyes a bit.

○●○

It went off without a hitch. Damien was crowned king of Devos, and he was pretty sure that he went deaf from all the cheering. All the monarchs and those they brought were more than happy to congratulate him, all clearly happy to have a competent ruler now.

Just how much did they hate Umbra? Damien thinks, flicking an ear as he shakes King Bolero's paw.

As he pulls away with a smile, he stiffens as something speaks in his mind.

I have high hopes for you, Prince Damien.

A black cat walks past, and Alina grins. "Ah, that's probably Unus. He loves to be all cryptic like that."

King Damien chuckles. "I figured."

His tail flicks. Unus seems to be important. He shouldn't forget that.

As more come to congratulate him, his eyes catch the light, and turn to a dark yellow rather than a crystal blue.

Everything was perfect. Now for the first step of his plan.. figuring out where the dead was kept here. Then maybe, finally, he could get rid of that accursed ClearAll his sister seemed to care about so much.

Life would be better off without death anyway.

[spacefinch]

What I know about the X-Men

Professor Charles Xavier

In the live-action, he’s played by Sir Patrick Stewart (Captain Picard)

Has telepathic powers

Apparently wasn’t always paralyzed. Something happened to him.

Founder of the X-Men

Magneto

Real name: Erik Lensherr or something. In X-Men Evolution, Professor Xavier sometimes calls him “Magnus.”

Can control magnetism. And can also apparently control any other kind of metal.

Holocaust survivor

Supposed to be a bad guy but honestly he does make some good points.

In pretty much every universe except the MCU, Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver are Magneto’s kids.

Played by Ian McKellen (Gandalf) in the live-action series

His helmet looks kind of Mandalorian

Scott Summers

Hero name: Cyclops.

Wears a cool visor that kind of looks like Geordi’s visor from Star Trek

Shoots energy beams from his eyes whenever he opens them. He has to wear special glasses (or a visor) with ruby-quartz lenses to be able to see.

In love with Jean Grey, but tends to get jealous.

Pretty much the leader of the X-Men when Professor Xavier isn’t around.

Has a younger brother, Alex. 

Jean Grey

Doesn’t have a hero name, at least not in X-Men Evolution.

At some point in the comics she gets possessed by this phoenix force thing, and she dies. But then I think she comes back. I’m not sure.

Basically a Jedi— she has telepathic and telekinetic powers

Wolverine

Real name: Logan. (Is that even his real name?)

Skeleton and retractable claws made of adamantium. (Result of questionable lab experiments)

Can heal from almost any injury, so he’s basically immortal.

Grumpy, and a bit of a jerk, but he has a soft side

Played by Hugh Jackman in the live-action series

Rogue

Don’t know her real name.

She’s from Mississippi.

She can absorb the memories and life-force of anyone she touches with her bare hands. If she touches another mutant, she’ll absorb their powers as well.

Adoptive sister to Kurt Wagner. 

In X-Men Evo, she has a goth aesthetic and I love it.

Nightcrawler

Real name: Kurt Wagner 

He’s from Germany, but moved to the US to join the X-Men.

Powers include: prehensile tail, catlike agility, and the ability to teleport anywhere in a 3-mile radius.

He can also teleport one or two other people if he’s touching them.

In X-Men Evolution, he uses a special hologram projector to disguise himself as a non-mutant in public.

Catholic

In the comics and movies, he grew up in the circus.

His mom is the shape-shifter Mystique (who is not a very good parent).

Kitty Pryde

Hero name: Shadowcat (such a cool name)

I know nothing about her background, except that she’s from Illinois and that she’s Jewish.

Power: phasing through solid objects. In the cartoons at least, she can also phase anything or anyone she touches.

Don’t know if she actually likes cats. I’m assuming she does like them.

Best friends (and partners in crime) with Kurt in X-Men Evolution.

Storm

Real name: Ororo Munroe

She can control the weather— super cool!

From Africa. Don’t know where exactly though.

Mystique

-Real name: Raven Darkholme (if that even IS her real name.)

-Power: shape-shifting.

- Sort of morally gray. She’s one of the bad guys in X-Men Evolution, but I’m not sure where she falls on the moral alignment chart in other media.

- ABANDONED HER OWN SON.

- She is also Rogue’s adoptive mother. The whole family is complicated.

Beast

Real name: Henry “Hank” McCoy

He’s a scientist

Used to actually work as a scientist/teacher in public before his mutation took over.

Seems pretty nice.

I first saw him in the post-credits of “The Marvels.” At the time, I had no clue who he was.

Jubilee

Real name: Jubilation Lee (way too on-the-nose if you ask me)

Power: Shooting fireworks from her hands

I like her outfit in the 90s cartoon. The bright colors and sunglasses are certainly an Aesthetic.

Gambit

Real name: Remy LeBeau

Southern, but also French

Not sure what his power is. It seems to involve playing cards, and it also seems to involve making things explode.

Fights with a metal staff

Former member of a thieves’ guild (he might still be a member, I don’t know)

Iceman

Real name: Bobby Drake

Powers: Can summon and manipulate ice. Can also turn himself into ice. 

That is all I know about him.

Angel

Real name: Warren Worthington III

Powers: Has a giant pair of wings. He can fly.

Other stuff

Professor Xavier and Magneto used to be friends.

There’s these giant robots called Sentinels that were built for the purpose of destroying mutants. In the cartoons at least, they fail at this job a LOT.

Magneto’s group is called “The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants” in the comics.

[thelightofthebane]

through the good and bad and all in between

Summary: Magnus was born a warlock. Magnus became a mundane for love and by self-sacrificing tendencies. Magnus turned into a vampire after an act of spite and revenge.

A story about survival, new identities, love through adversities, and accepting changes.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e17 Heavenly Fire, Vampire Magnus Bane, Turned without consent, Major Character Undeath, Immortal to Mortal to Immortal, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Boyfriend Alec Lightwood, Soft Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Cat & Alec friendship, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending

Rating: E

Chapters: 10

Words: Around 23k~

This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2023: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

You can read it on AO3 or the sixth chapter below ~

Chapter 6 - And this is how it's supposed to be

It looked like normal blood.

But it hidden a power greater than they could’ve imagined.

“I thought Simon became a Daylighter as some side effect of the Soul Sword’s light.” Magnus frowned, still trying to comprehend what Alexander has just told him.

That was the official version after all. Something about how being in contact with Clary’s pure blood plus the Soul Sword’s energy affected Simon and he became a rare kind of vampire – something, thus, impossible to recreate. 

“I thought too, until earlier today when Jace finally told me the truth. It’s actually something pretty simple, but that could turn both my parabatai and his girlfriend into a beacon for vampires.”

Magnus nodded in understanding. Not all vampires would be polite enough to say ‘please, could you give me a bit of your blood so I won’t be burned alive under the sun?’ They would actually suck Jace and Clary dry. 

“Not even Clary knows about this. It’s a secret that Jace and Simon have been keeping only between themselves. At least for serious matters those two can actually shut up and keep a secret.” Alec murmured almost grumpily, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, now we both know, too.”

“Why? If Jace is doing this out of guilt just because I lost my magic in exchange of helping him, it’s unnecessary. I made my own choice.”

“It’s not about guilt, Magnus. I think it’s his own version of thank you for, you know, saving him from Lilith. If you haven’t done that, I’d have been forced to kill him. It would have destroyed me. Not only because he is my parabatai, but it would also be my brother’s blood on my hands. He knows that. And he’s grateful for you preventing that.”

Magnus shrugged helplessly as if to say it was nothing, but Alec weren’t having none of that. Taking Magnus’ hand and kissing his knuckles, he spoke softly, almost as if it were a secret.

“Jace might not show it, but he also cares about you a lot, Magnus. You’re family, and we do everything we can for family.”

Magnus’ Adam’s apple bobbed, and he turned his gaze again to the uncapped bottle of concentrated Angel blood.

What if it didn’t work? Though his heritage was of fire and shadow, Magnus was never one to hide in darkness. He liked the light too much, and thrived on it. Being a Child of the Night damped his joy, and he could live with that.

It was just that…

He really didn’t want to.

“Well, if nothing else, I’ll already have my fill for lunch,” he joked, though there was no lightness in his eyes.

His Alexander, never to ignore his distress, kissed his forehead. “Be brave, my love.”

And what else Magnus could do? Still a little hesitant, but more resolute than before, Magnus picked the bottle and took a small sip.

He didn’t know if it was going to work or not, but oh… It was delicious.

Almost addictive.

He drank everything almost in one go, feeling the most sated since waking up to this new life. And fortunately, it was enough to fill his stomach and quench his thirst, or else he might’ve not resisted taking a taste from Alec - whose blood always smelled delicious for him.

And Magnus definitely didn’t want to go there. Yet. Or maybe never.

A thought for another day, however.

“Do you feel any different?”

Magnus shook his head, but was already heading towards the door.

“Only one way to find out.”

Before he could launch himself into the sun, though, Alec grabbed his wrist. His eyes were wide in fear and panic.

“Can’t you just…” He waved his hand. “Put only an arm outside. Just in case it didn’t work.”

“Oh my darling…” Magnus lifted his hands and held Alec’s face in between them. “You have been so afraid all this time, haven’t you? Don’t you worry, okay? I won’t do that to myself. To us.”

Alec searched all over Magnus’ face for reassurance, and seemingly finding it, released a shaking breath. Nodding, he let Magnus’ go and stepped back, giving space to his boyfriend.

Smiling in gratitude, Magnus took only one deep breath - which he didn’t need anymore but the simple action helped to center himself - and then turned, marching forward to the afternoon sun without hesitation.

.

.

.

The world became brighter, lighter, warmer.

 ~*~

They were lazily making out on a sunbed at the back yard, Magnus refusing to go inside for hours already after finding out that he really became a Daylighter. Not that Alec minded. Seeing Magnus smiling and happier was enough for the Shadowhunter.

Only after they were beyond sated and just cuddling, the day giving way for a chilly night, that Alec dared to bring out the topic that was weighing heavily in his mind.

“Have you thought about Raphael’s request?”

For a moment Magnus tensed, but soon enough he relaxed again in Alec’s arms.

“I don’t know if I’m the best as Raphael’s replacement. I may know how their politics work, but I’m fairly new as a vampire myself. How can I expect to have their trust in leading them?”   

“They know you. Maybe not as a vampire, but as a Downworlder like them. An immortal, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were older than most of the clan.”

“It’s still uncharted territory.” Magnus insisted.

“Magnus, you may have changed what you are, but not who you are. Your heart is still the same, and I’m pretty sure your brain is, too. You can still give advice. You have centuries of knowledge in magic and life overall. You created the portal and so many other things. You can still create new things, if not for the Warlock community, but for the vamps. I’m certain they would appreciate that and…”

Alec started to wave his hand aimlessly in the air like he sometimes did when immersing himself at some topic and laying out all the facts to prove his point. It was endearing, actually. It was somehow soothing to have such a small thing unchangeable even when their worlds kept colliding and in the brink of destruction and spinning all the time.

“... And, and we all know how you always liked to eat, from simple things to more ostentatious ones, so don’t tell me you won’t try to indulge yourself with something that may work with blood. Like, hiring some chefs and trying together thousands of recipes while combining different types of blood. You would become their favorite leader in no time! Maybe Maia would love new ideas for Taki’s, too.”

Magnus hummed, humoring his Shadowhunter. “Yeah, that sounds like me, alright.”

“Exactly! The New York clan wouldn’t know what-” Alec’s voice trailed off when a fire message came flying suddenly. He took it from the air and read the urgent message on it.

His expression closed off almost immediately, his eyes thunderous. 

“What is it?” Magnus immediately sat up, worried.

“They found Camille. In a crime scene.”

None talked for a full minute. Alec started typing furiously on his phone while Magnus’ thoughts scrambled like dandelion seeds in the wind.

Only when they suddenly crashed and Magnus blinked out of his reverie, looking up and seeing Alec already looking back at him with worry in his eyes, that he felt coherent enough to form words.

“How…” He cleared his sudden dry throat. “How bad is it?”

“A carnifice. Over a dozen of dead mundanes. Three were children. There was a toddler.”

Silence.

The kind that could suffocate.

Then, Alec sighed. “Magnus, I don’t think imprisonment is enough for her now. She committed too many crimes. She has been killing mundanes left and right. She killed you and Simon. She will certainly get the death sentence, be it from the Clave or the Warlock Council, and I don’t want to–”

“I trust you.” Magnus interrupted him. “I- I don’t want to know anything about her anymore. If I could, I’d have my memories of her completely erased. So, I trust you to make the right call.”

Alec nodded slowly, though he was still very worried about Magnus.

“I have to go back to the Institute to assemble a team. Do you want me to call Cat or Raphael to keep you company?”

Magnus shook his head. “I want to be alone.” Crossing his arms over his chest, the vampire got up from the sunbed. “Go do your job, Shadowhunter. I’ll be here when you come back.”

Without waiting for a reply, Magnus practically fled back to Ragnor’s house, the back door closing with a bitter finality.

~*~

“Wow, I haven’t seen you this murderous since Valentine and Magnus swapped bodies,” Jace commented, very unnecessarily, causing Alec’s scowl to get more pronounced. “No, really. If you glare at the screen any harder, you’ll open a hole in it.”

“Jace, shut up!” Isabelle hissed, elbowing him hard.

As for Alec, he was trying really hard to keep his head cool, or else he would forgo every protocol he knew, laws be damned. Because his only wish currently was to make Camille Belcourt pay with blood, giving her a very slow death.

He wanted to kill her. He really wanted to kill her, deliberately and painfully.

“Alec.”

Alec blinked slowly, back to reality, then turned towards the voice that called him.

“Catarina.”

She wasn’t wearing scrubs like the usual. She wasn’t even with her glamor up. Her blue skin and bright white hair were exposed to all to see at the Ops Center, and for the first time it wasn’t a healer in front of them.

It was a warlock ready to confront the one who hurt her family beyond reality.

Jace gasped, perplexed.

“You called her? We can’t-” He cut himself, then shook his head. “Alec, since when do you put a civilian at risk during a mission? You know it’s against the rules!”

In any other situation, it would’ve been amusing having Jace mentioning laws and rules as if they were something he actually cared for.

But in that moment, Alec didn’t give a single shit.

“I really don’t care, Jace. Cat wanted to come with us, and I would never stop her.” He took his bow from the table and walked past them to give the final orders to all teams assembled and ready to go where Camille was hiding.

“Try to stop me, Shadowhunter.” Cat drawled, staring pointedly at Jace, and soon following Alec.

Jace and Izzy exchanged looks.

They were terrified for their brother.

Usually, Alec was the level-headed, always keeping an eye on them, but for the first time the opposite would be necessary.

They didn’t have at all a good feeling about that mission.

.

.

.

Camille was ready for them.

It was a trap full of demons.

A rift for a hell realm was open.

.

.

.

Alec fell on it.

[cityofdownwardspirals]

Magnus was just supposed to go out for a quick run. He thought listening to some music and being out in the fresh air could help get him out of his bad headspace. Oh, he couldn't have been more wrong.

"I will give you 50$ if you pretend to me my boyfriend." The words were out before Magnus could even give them any more thought.

The guy he was talking to looked at him, confused, before he took his AirPods out and that is when Magnus realized he hadn't even heard him. "I'm sorry?" the man asked, panting from his running session.

Magnus almost didn't want to repeat it. He almost wanted to dismiss it and lie and ask what the time was or something like that because this was insane. He couldn't just ask a random guy running in the park to be his fake boyfriend. But then his eyes darted towards the direction of his distress and he saw Camille walking toward them and panicked.

"I know this sounds very weird, but I will give you any amount of money you want if you pretend to be my boyfriend," he said and he realized how desperate that sounded but couldn't bring himself to care in that moment. He would rather sound desperate than let Camille get to him.

The guy's eyes widened as his breathing started settling. "What?" he asked, his voice going up an octave.

Before Magnus could repeat his request, Camille was next to them already. "Hello, Magnus," she said in a sweet tone that Magnus knew was all a load of crap.

He looked away from the guy to look at his ex and as soon as he saw her face all his confidence left him. He was right back in that moment where she broke up with him and told him no one would ever love him, that he was too much and too difficult to love.

"Aw...cat got your tongue?" She asked, her voice grating. "You look just as pathetic as you did a week ago, I guess you haven't moved on..." she added and then her eyes darted to the stranger, as if just noticing he was there.

That is when Magnus found it within himself to answer to answer. "I have," he said, tiltong his head toward the stranger. He couldn't see the man's face but considering the fact he hadn't walked away, Magnus decided to take a chance.

Camille seemed to take in the guy, looking him up and down and laughing. "Him? Please, I am not buying it. He looks confused to be here."

And Magnus felt small in that moment because Camille always knew how to make him feel that way. He was ready to admit his defeat and to just leave when the other guy spoke. "Actually," he said in a serious tone. "I am just confused about where you got the damn audacity to talk to Magnus like that from," he said and that made Magnus turn his face towards him as well. That is when he saw the determined look on the guy's face.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Camille asked, her sardonic smile gone.

"I am Alec, Magnus’s boyfriend. Who are you?" he said and at that he put am arm around Magnus’s waist protectively.

"I'm Camille, I'm sure Magnus has mentioned me."

Alec looked at her blankly and Magnus couldn't help but snicker at the offended look on Camille's face. "I can't say I've heard of you. Guess we just have more important stuff to do than talk about you," he said non-chalantly and damn he knew this was his fake boyfriend but Magnus was ready to kiss Alec then and this attitude was hot.

So I couldn't get this out of my head since I got the idea for it last night. Full fic coming after my exams 👀

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

All In The Timing

A/N: The Dark Malec fic I’d promised :)

Anyways, apply canon Magnus’s habit of laughing in the face of heartbreak and fear and on Dark Magnus, and you’ll have a Magnus who’s perfected his Evil Laugh TM. It just comes out at the most unexpected, most uncanny timing. I’m just saying.

****

“So,” Bane said casually as he sat back on his couch, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit jacket. “What did you want to talk about?”

Sebastian’s narrowed brushed around the wide living room of Bane’s apartment, which doubled as his workplace. Sebastian never understood people who received clients at home, especially ones who could be as dangerous as him.

Speaking of which, he had some business.

“I need you to perform a spell,” Sebastian said, going into the specifics. Bane just stared at him, listening, his face a careful blank slate. Sometimes, Sebastian wanted to punch right in the middle of that facade of his, wanted to see it crumble.

Today he would, he reminded himself. He would get what he wanted, and he would get Bane pleading on his knees, if everything went well.

“So?” Sebastian said, finished with his details of the spell he needed. “When will you start?”

Bane gave a displeased twitch of his mouth. “What makes you think I’ll be willing to perform such a spell, Morgenstern? Only a fool would give you the kind of power you’re seeking.”

“You will do it.” Sebastian couldn’t help but smile as he dropped the hook. “Or else, your boyfriend dies.”

Bane blinked slowly, his cat-like eyes focusing on Sebastian. “What?”

“Your boyfriend?” Sebastian grinned and leaned back, delighting in the tiny crease that appeared between Bane’s eyebrows. “Tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed? I’ve got some henchmen looking after him in a secret base right now. One phone call, and they’ll slit his throat.”

Bane blinked again, and titled his head. “Is that so?”

“That is so.” Sebastian pulled up his phone, showing Magnus the proof - a photo of Alec Lightwood that he’d taken right before he came here from the base. Lightwood had been knocked unconscious while he was on patrol and then taken into his base by his henchman, where he’d been put in a cell. The photo showed him in that cell, body slumped in a heavy wooden chair, his arms bound to the arms of the chair with thick ropes. The same ropes were wound around his abdomen and the back of his chair, holding him upright. There was nothing to support his head, however, and it lolled to one side, a small trickle of blood running down his face from where he’d been hit during the scuffle.

Lightwood had put up quite a fight. But his people had the element of surprise on their side and greatly outnumbered Lightwood, and in the end it was a quick capture.

Sebastian turned his attention back to Bane, who was examining the picture with a scrutinising eye. His expression was as blank as it always was, but this time, there was something shimmering under his gaze.

Good.

“I suggest you start soon, Bane,” Sebastian said with a satisfied grin. “The sooner you finish the spell, the sooner your boytoy returns to you. And don’t you dare try anything foolish.”

Bane’s gaze slid from the phone that Sebastian still held up, to Sebastian himself, and then back to the phone. He snorted, lips twitching as he bowed his head. It was like something cracked in him, his breath coming out in short, heavy puffs, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

This… wasn’t the reaction he was looking for. Sebastian’s grin slipped.

Bane was supposed to be afraid, face turning pale and clammy as soon as he saw Lightwood’s state. Everyone in the Clave and Downworld alike knew that if Bane loved anyone, it was Lightwood. It was why Sebastian had gone through so much pain to capture him, after all. If there was anyone he could use to break Bane, it was Lightwood. He was supposed to break.

Instead, Bane was… laughing?

As soon as that occurred to him, Bane threw his head back, laughing like a madman, one of his hands coming up to rest on top of his forehead. Bane was laughing as if he and Sebastian were old friends, and Sebastian had just cracked a hilarious joke over a glass of wine instead of telling him that his lover was in danger.

Sebastian could only stare at him, incredulous. Behind him, the two Nephilim henchmen he’d brought along for protection looked at each other, confounded. Bane was still laughing, sinking back into the cushions of his couch, clutching at his abdomen as if it hurt.

Was he mocking Sebastian?

“You-“ Sebastian flushed, anger rising within him as he stood, stalking over to Bane and grabbing him by the collar. “You bastard! Did you even hear what I just said?! Your boyfriend-“

“Oh, I heard you loud and clear,” Bane said in between fits of giggles, wiping tears from his eyes. Eyes that glinted with amusement. He was actually amused. The bastard. “I just- you- Oh.”

The laughter which had died down for a moment or two now built up again, rising steadily to a crescendo.

“No wonder he didn’t come home last night!” Magnus exclaimed, still laughing. He winced and pushed Sebastian off, his arm going tighter around his abdomen. “Oh, Oh God, my stomach hurts. Fuck, I haven’t laughed like that in a while now. Anyway, this will do him some good, I suppose - I have been telling him to get some rest.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Sebastian snapped.

Magnus titled his head, regarding Sebastian with amusement, laughter bubbling up his throat again. “What is wrong with you? You left Alexander alone, with, what? Three guards? One in his room to keep an eye on him, another in the hallway outside, and one keeping watch at the front door?”

Sebastian blanched.

Magnus grinned, as if to say, bingo. His cat-like eyes slid to where Sebastian’s henchmen stood, and called out, “They’re not picking up, are they?”

Sebastian whirled on his henchmen, who were indeed on their phones, attempting to call the ones who had been left on guard duty. The worried frowns on their faces told Sebastian all he needed to know.

Fuck.

He needed this spell.

And he couldn’t extract it out of Bane without a bargaining chip.

“I should feel bad for Alexander, but it’s just so hilarious!” Bane cackled. “So many people underestimate him, and then- and then they’re so surprised when they realise they underestimated him!”

“Let’s go,” Sebastian barked at his henchmen before turning to the front door. He could come back here, but he needed to check on his bargaining chip first. Maybe take a few fingers to wipe that stupid laugh off of Bane’s face with.

Bane was still laughing when Sebastian stalked out the front door, his henchmen hot on his heels.

In the forty-five minutes it took to drive from Bane’s house-slash-office to the base, Sebastian had called his guards several times. None of them had picked.

Sebastian’s mind was reeling as the car rolled to a stop and he threw open the door, briskly walking up the short flight of stairs and in through the front door. The shadowhunter he’d left on guard duty there was immediately by his side, asking what was going on, but Sebastian ignored him.

Had Lightwood really found a way to escape? It was unlikely - if this guard was still here, then so should he. He was even tied up, for fuck’s sake. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check on him, and give Bane more of a reason as to why he should perform the spell.

Sebastian clambered down the stairs to the downstairs hallway, mind still reeling as he grew closer to where Lightwood was being kept. He threw open the cell door, and registered the sight of Lightwood, still bound to his chair, a fresh bruise on his face and a surprised expression taking over as soon as he saw Sebastian.

Sebastian’s shoulders slumped in relief, but the relief lasted only a moment.

“Thank you for leading me to him,” came Bane’s voice from behind, and Sebastian froze.

Sebastian turned around, eyes wide and icy with fear as he beheld Magnus, standing with one arm outstretched, blue sparks dancing along his palm. Magnus’s smile brightened just as Sebastian’s eyes went a tiny bit wider, clearly aware of the effect Magnus’s magic was having on him.

It was so easy, really. One simple spell to jam any signals that Sebastian and his cronies’s phones would receive, another tracking spell, and here he was. Magnus worried for the state of kidnappers in the future.

“It’s not personal,” Magnus crooned as his magic tightened its hold on Sebastian’s brain. “Actually, wait. It is. Let me clarify something.”

Magnus’s smile slipped, his cat’s eyes flashing as he looked at Sebastian, who let out a tiny whimper of pain.

“No one lays a hand on Alexander and gets away with it,” Magnus said, and squeezed his hand into a fist.

Sebastian dropped, and Magnus gave him a brief glance - he was dead, limbs spread out in awkward positions, blood slowly seeping out of his eyes and ears - before he stepped over his body and into the holding cell.

Magnus’s heartbeat grew slower and steadier as he drew closer to Alec, who was looking straight back at him, one eye nearly shut by the swollen bruise on his cheekbone. There was blood on the legs of the chair, Magnus realised, and another body tucked away to one side of the room.

“They forgot to bind my legs,” Alec said by way of greeting, and snorted. “Those fools.”

“Good to see you too, darling,” Magnus said, gently cupping Alec’s cheek, fingers brushing along the bruise and healing it. Alec leaned into the touch, heaving a gentle sigh. “Did you sleep well last night?”

Alec snorted again, but this time he smiled as well. “Yeah right.”

He turned his face into the hollow of Magnus’s palm, placing a gentle kiss there, and Magnus’s heart cracked just the tiniest bit.

In a good way, of course.

Alec’s voice was slightly muffled when he spoke again. “Now get me out of here.”

Magnus laughed, a genuine one this time, and got to work on the ropes. “Of course, love.”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 58: Voicemail

Harry's mobile rang, interrupting a perfectly nice (if solitary) dinner at home with a good book.

With a sigh, he put his bookmark in his book, set his fork down in his bowl of pasta, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and huffed at the unknown number, "Bloody spam call," he grumbled, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him.

He picked up his fork once more and opened his book.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when his phone pinged, notifying him that the caller had left a voicemail. Pointedly, he turned away from the phone and went back to reading; he made it a few more pages, his pasta bowl almost empty, when his phone started ringing again.

The same number was calling again. He scowled and ignored it, going back to his book and letting it ring out. He wasn't especially surprised when he got the notification that whoever was calling had left him another voicemail.

After that, his phone was blissfully silent as he continued reading. When he finished his book he set it down on the side table and stretched until there was a satisfying pop in his lower back.

He glanced at his phone, his curiosity winning out, and reached for it to play back the voicemails.

"Potter? Are you there?" a drunken voice slurred, and Harry knew that voice but he couldn't possibly believe that the person it sounded like had a muggle phone and even if he did, it didn't make sense that he'd be calling Harry. "Oh I can never understand these stupid things. Am I supposed to push a button so you can hear me? This is Draco Malfoy, so if you can hear me, you'd better speak up."

To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

(Read more below the cut)

"You know I don't understand how to make this work," he whined at Harry, "Can't you help me? Isn't that what you do?"

Harry huffed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. You're the one who's missing out. I'm hanging up now, Potter."

He shook his head and hit delete on the voicemail before opening the next one.

"Potter," he greeted again and Harry almost laughed because he didn't know how it was possible to sound so drunk and so posh at the same time. "I've been informed that you were not, in fact, on the other end of the string...wire?... line?..." he trailed off and this time Harry did laugh.

"Whatever. None of those words make any sense. Anyway, I was told I left you a recording of my voice. You're welcome."

Harry laughed again, ridiculous man.

"So, since you weren't being rude before, I thought I would call to present you my offer. I am out at a club dancing and drinking with Pansy, and I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing. I'm going to guess that you are finishing a terrible detective novel while you sit on your sofa eating dinner by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "I like my detective novels, thank you."

"And I know you're probably rolling your eyes and extolling the many virtues of your paperback novels, but they're absolute drivel, Potter, you must know that."

It was ridiculous to be fond of this man. Utterly and completely ridiculous, but Harry was nothing if not fond of Draco Malfoy.

"Anyway, I bet that your cat hasn't even joined you on the sofa. Magnus has much better taste in literature than you do."

Magnus was currently resting on his cat tower, but if he'd been asked, Harry wouldn't have admitted it.

"The point I'm trying to make, is that you are living a lonely, miserable life. So you should come out dancing with me. And I know," he carried on, "that you would say that you don't dance but I can teach you."

He smiled at the phone, gripping it a little tighter as he imagined that scenario playing out in his mind.

"And then, you can take me home with you at the end of the night."

Harry promptly choked on his saliva. Draco Malfoy couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying.

"What's your bed like, Potter? Is it soft? Is it red?" he asked aghast. "Maybe we should come back to mine instead. You'd look so lovely on my green sheets." He trailed off with a wistful little sigh. "Or. Just call me back and tell me to leave the club right now. Tell me to floo over and maybe we won't make it past the living room. Maybe on that hideous sofa. Hell maybe we won't make it past that garish rug."

There was a short pause and Harry wondered if Draco was imagining it like he was.

"I'm dying to kiss you." he murmured. "Surely you see it, surely you know. And I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-"

The voicemail ended abruptly and Harry glared at the phone. What happened? He opened the voicemail box again and a notification popped up. His mailbox was full. Of all the rotten luck.

And he had no idea where the other man was and even if he had known, did it really make sense to go there anyway?

He listened to the voicemail, then he listened to it again.

And again.

He listened and he fell a little bit more in love with Draco Malfoy and he knew that even if he had known where he was, he wouldn't have gone, because he didn't want to be something the other man regretted in the morning.

After retrieving Magnus from the cat tower, he carried him into his bedroom and decided to deal with everything in the morning.

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

Harry slept very poorly that night and when 7:30 rolled around Harry couldn't stand it for one more second. He stuffed his feet into his trainers, pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and apparated to Draco's front door, pounding on it before he could stop himself.

He waited for a long moment and when there was no response, he pounded again.

The door swung open while he was still knocking, revealing a very tired, very grumpy Draco Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of boxers, "What the fuck." He stared at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Potter, I am in no mood for your bullshit; I am tired, I am hungover, and it is bloody early. You're going to need to start making sense. Right now."

"You said, 'I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-' and then my voicemail was full and I couldn't hear anything more."

All of the color drained from Draco's face, "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned around and stumbled back inside, but he left the door open so Harry took that as an invitation to enter.

Draco was serious, apparently, about getting sick because he made a beeline for the bathroom and Harry heard him vomiting before he reached the doorway.

"Oh," he murmured sympathetically, making his way over and gathering Draco's shoulder-length hair in his hand to keep it out of his face. He rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved up the contents of his stomach which truthfully smelled like pure vodka.

"Go away," Draco finally groaned when he'd managed to stop dry heaving and flush the toilet. "Just leave me to die. That would be preferable."

"Stop being dramatic," he said as he stood and moved toward his medicine cupboard. "I'm sure that a potions master has a hangover potion lying around here somewhere." He dug through until he found a bottle and handed it over to Draco.

Draco took it, wincing as the pain of the hangover he would have had hit him all at once. He shuddered, "Fucking Pansy," he grumbled. "Thank you for your assistance, you've done you're duty to help those less fortunate than you, you may go."

"Not likely," he replied. "Why don't you shower and get cleaned up? I'll make some breakfast and we can talk."

Draco groaned, "Let me die."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You have ten minutes, then I'm coming in and dragging you out."

He made his way to Draco's kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of them, as well as coffee.

Draco appeared after nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. "Please, Potter," he groaned, "Can't you just drop it. I promise never to drunk dial you again," he added as he slid into a chair and took a sip of his coffee.

"Draco what was the end of that sentence?" Harry asked.

The other man picked up his slice of toast and took a bite, "I don't know. I was drunk off my arse."

"Don't lie to me," Harry replied. "I'm not stupid."

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, "I know that."

"Please," Harry whispered, "What was the end of that sentence?"

"You aren't going to let it go are you?"

He shook his head.

Draco's shoulders slumped, "I am in love with you," he whispered. "That's the end of that sentence. And usually I have enough of a sense of self preservation and dignity not to just go spouting that sort of nonsense to someone who couldn't possibly feel the same-"

"But I do!" Harry exclaimed. "I do feel the same. I have for absolutely ages."

"You don't have to lie to me-"

"Do you remember that trivia night we went to eight months ago," Harry interrupted, "the one where everyone else bailed?"

"Yes."

"I knew," Harry said, "I knew that night that I was completely besotted with you. We were the worst team there."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Right. Everyone falls in love with someone who's a complete idiot about a subject school children could play better."

"I fell in love with someone who didn't take himself seriously. Who laughed at getting the answers wrong, who was clever and funny, and made up answers a hundred times better than the real ones." He looked down at his hands, steeling himself to say something hard but real, "Things are hard for me sometimes," he confessed. "I get stuck in my head and it's not," he swallowed, "Not always good."

Draco's hand found his across the table.

Harry looked up, "But I don't feel like that when I'm with you. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed like that before that night. And I'm not trying to put pressure on you," he added, "I see a mind healer, I'm not asking you to fix me," he said. "Just, when I'm with you I feel like there's something to look forward to." He swallowed and Draco waited patiently for him to continue, "And I couldn't let myself imagine that you might want someone broken like me, I wanted to be better before I let myself even think about it. But then you left me that messa-"

"You're not broken," Draco murmured, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them that left Harry breathless. "The war changed all of us and we all have healing and growing to do from that, but you aren't broken. You're enough as you are right now."

"You don't know what my bad days are like," Harry said.

Draco shrugged, "And you don't know what my bad days are like, but you're not holding them against me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I really like you," Draco confessed. "A lot. And I know that things aren't always going to be easy, but if we wait for either of us to be perfect before we try, we'll wait our entire lives." He swallowed and Harry watched his throat bob with the motion, "Could we maybe try healing and growing together?"

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Good," Draco replied before standing up and moving around the table to straddle Harry's lap, "Then I'm going to need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," he replied, cupping Draco's cheek and leading his mouth down to his.

Their breakfast got cold but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

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Day 57: Text Message | Day 59: Ring