#but still I think there were better ways to address Jace's concerns other than “get over it”

[sylvancastor]

Jaecaerys continues to be the only person with any sort of common sense. Obviously I'm not excusing what he says about people from the lower classes, but he makes a good point about his legitimacy being endangered by clear proof Targaryen bastards can claim dragons. Which is why the book makes SO much more sense bc the entire dragonseed idea is his idea, not Mysaria/Rhaenyra's. We can't know for sure bc of how F&B is written, but with it being Jace's idea it's implied at the very least that he's weighed the benefits versus the consequences to his own legitimacy and their dire need to win the war and decided in favor of having the dragonseeds claim dragons. Taking that idea from him though and having it basically be Mysaria's is a complete insult to him and a politically damaging decision he didn't agree to. And not only does he have to deal with that but also in this version he has to be the one consistently wrangling Rhaenyra's council because she's literally NEVER there. I sympathize more with Jacaerys every week bc I'm frustrated, so I can't imagine being him.

[funkzpiel]

Wade in the Water | Grindelgraves

Warnings/Tags: Non-Con, Transformation, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Kidnapping, Mermaid Transformation, Mermaid!Grindelwald, Human-to-Mermaid!Graves, Rape/Non-con Elements, Breast Growth, Forced Feminization, Oviposition, Impregnation, Eggpreg Summary: Grindelwald finally corners Graves, but in his enemy he finds an unlikely opportunity. Never before had he found a man powerful enough to be his match, to be his mate -- until now. [a/n] I recently removed a lot of fics from AO3. I thought most of them still lived here in Tumblr, but I was wrong. If there's anything you guys miss, feel free to ask! Anon mentioned this one, so here we go ~

He was tired; not just tired, but weary down to his very bones. Fresh from a magical creature trafficking bust, he was practically dead on his feet. He had been well and truly ready to go home after he had just finished his preliminary paperwork when a squeaking little note had crawled onto his desk and unraveled into his hands with a flourish. One of his informants had intel about the rash of strange “gas explosions” across the city. They hadn’t really been gas explosions, of course; merely a fabrication that had concocted the moment they saw the severity of the destruction.

Got info on your dark cloud. Docks, midnight. I’m not sticking around, you’ve got one shot. G.

Graves frowned. It was unusual to hear from Gnarlak directly; even more so not to be directed to just meet at his pub. Whatever information the goblin had for him, it was good and it was dangerous – not to mention expensive, no doubt. Graves sighed and stood, his head heavy between his shoulders as he braced himself against his desk for a moment. He took a deep, trembling breath and tried to ignore the ache in his ribs from a potshot one of the traffickers had managed to strike him with. He hid it well until now, unwilling to worry his aurors, but he knew what must lay beneath his vest and shirt. He could feel the heat of the injury through his thin clothes when he brushed over it with his fingers. He knew the skin beneath was no doubt hot with internal bleeding, mottled and purple. Perhaps even somewhat uneven, if any of the bones were broken.

Consumed as he was in his evaluation, he didn’t notice when his most junior auror slipped through his door carrying a mountain of paperwork. Jace Wayland was a thin, willowy thing. Baby faced with big blue eyes that could stop people in their tracks. In all honesty he looked nothing like an auror. He looked as though a good, firm breeze could knock him over; but he was tenacious – more so than Graves had encountered in a junior in a long time. In what he lacked physically, he more than made up for mentally. Sharp as a tack and faster than even his best investigators, although he had never told the boy that. Humility bred caution, after all, and he wanted the boy to make it to a full position. Curious if he could.

“M-Mr. Graves, here are all the leads you asked for me to follow up on while you were out…”

Graves heard it the moment the boy’s words trailed off, the moment he noticed the director’s grimace. IT was too late to cover it up now; the boy knew. He cursed beneath his breath.

“Mr. Graves, are you hurt?”

Graves sniffed loudly and slowly straightened his back into something more regal and commanding than the figure he no doubt cut while doubled over on his desk. He ignored the fiery blaze of agony blaring along his right side and addressed the boy as if nothing were the matter.

“Mr. Wayland... It’s late, why aren’t you home?” He asked. Annoyed to have been caught when no one should be left at the office. Impressed, however, by the child’s drive.

“This seemed important,” the boy said lamely.

“Everything will always seem important,” Graves said, knowing full well the irony of the words leaving his lips. The pot calling the kettle black. “You must take time to recharge or you’ll drive yourself mad.”

“O-of course,” Jace said, but his eyes were still on Graves’ ribs and he knew the subject wasn’t done. “Did the raid go well?”

“Swimmingly,” Graves said shortly as he drew his coat from his chair and made a show of putting it on without ever once letting slip a grimace. Even when he felt something distinctly pop. He began to sweat. “The traffickers were apprehended with minimal casualties to either side.”

“That’s great news. Are you headed home?”

“Not quite,” Graves said, fingers trailing over the little worn out note on his desk before he set the little slip aflame.

“But sir, you—“

Graves shot him a cold, challenging look and watched the boy’s confidence wilt before his eyes. Surprisingly, however, Jace simply clutched his papers tighter and frowned.

“We’re not supposed to do anything alone, sir.”

Graves scowled. The boy was right. It was a rule that they were not supposed to act on any lead alone. Clever child, he saw the note for what it was and knew exactly what to say. What sort of leader created rules they did not themselves abide by? Graves glared at him, assessing, before finally he let loose a small sigh and said, “Get your things, Mr. Wayland. Let’s make this quick.”

The boy scampered off before Graves had so much as a moment to change his mind and somewhere in the back of his head, he felt a niggling. He scowled, but the feeling was lost to him before he could think much more of it – burned away by the low, hot hum of his aching ribs.

❇

The docks were quiet; silent in a way that set Graves’ teeth on edge. There was no late night rush of strangers wasting their money at the dingy bar down the street. No dock workers, no gulls.

Something was terribly wrong, Graves just didn’t know what.

What he did know was that he was cold, but also hot. There was a thin film of sweat growing at his brow, and he felt simultaneously smothered by his coat and scarf, and freezing. He shivered despite himself, his eyelids heavy, and clenched his fists a little tighter in the safety of his coat pockets. It was ten past midnight and that rotten little goblin had stood him up. He should have known better than to trust the creature; wicked and cruel as it was. Gnarlak was a valuable informant, but he wasn’t exactly a trustworthy one, and Graves was just beginning to wonder if he should stop by The Blind Pig and have a little chat about certain privileges the goblin was enjoying when Jace finally sighed beside him.

“Well that’s rather disappointing,” the boy pouted, arms crossed to keep him warm.

“Ah, yes. This would have been your first time meeting with an informant,” Graves said softly. He sniffed, nose running from the cold, and shrugged a little deeper into the overwhelming heat of his coat. “It’s not as exciting as you think, Mr. Wayland. Gnarlak would have just haggled us for some cheap line about something we likely already knew. Hardly exciting detective work.”

Beside him, the boy scoffed.

“Then why do we keep him as an informant?”

“Because he might have useful information,” Graves said simply as he gave his surroundings outside the mooring house one last check. “And the possibility of good information is more valuable than the risk of losing that information just because we’re tired of Gnarlak’s bullshit.”

Jace raised his brows at him, surprised by his language. Graves’ dipped his head ever so slightly in concession.

“Apologies. I’m rather tired. Let’s call it a night, Jace. There’s always tomorrow.”

“Of course, sir.”

Graves turned to head back to their disapparition point, his mind caught on thoughts of what he would do once he got home. He’d take a Dreamless Drought, he thought pleasantly. He’d numb his ribs with a bit of mint oil and take a long, hot shower. And once he was clean and his muscles mush from the pounding water, he’d slip into his bed and—

He stilled.

Jace was not beside him.

He turned to look back, concerned, only to be struck right between his shoulders before he could so much as spin halfway around. He let out a shout, the sound pulled from his lips mercilessly as the ferocity of the spell shook his ribs within his chest. He couldn’t breathe, the air knocked from his lungs. He wheezed and scrabbled around, wand at the ready despite his trembling, and prepared to fire a volley of cover fire for Jace only—

Only Jace was the one that had hit him.

Gone was the baby faced boy that sought to please him. In his place was a young man, his large blue eyes a cold and deadly stare that chilled Graves to his core. He even stood differently than his junior auror had. Back straight, jaw squared. Quite like… well, quite like Graves himself, when his ribs weren’t busy trying to dissolve into dust within his chest. A painful, whistling breath escaped him.

“Jace?”

“Not quite,” the boy said, an eerie smile on his cherub face. “But it is a name of mine, yes. Occassionally.”

Graves gripped at his ribs, his breath short from the other man’s sucker punch of a spell as before his eyes Jace’s visage melted away. He became taller – taller even than Graves – and broader too.

His skin grew if possible paler, and his young golden locks became short, spikey white points standing atop his head. But all it took was one look at his eyes to know he had been a terrible, terrible mistake coming here injured.

Those haunting, mismatched eyes belonged to Gellert Grindelwald. His enemy, an international terrorist, and likely soon to be his murderer.

Graves grit his teeth. His skin itched to be gone from there, to disapparate and get help – but through the pain he knew he was too distracted to perform the delicate spell without getting splinched. Were only his ribs howling, maybe, but the spell had left his back a mottled mess of agony as well; as though he had been hit by a train rather than a simple stunning spell.

His knees felt weak and he staggered, but still he held up his wand. Across from him – pristine and perfect – Grindelwald tsked at him sympathetically.

“Poor Mr. Graves,” he purred, “No one truly looks at you, do they? Your power has blinded them to your weaknesses. No one noticed your injury. No one insisted to see you home. And after tonight, no one will notice when you’re replaced.”

Dread pooled in his belly like liquid lead. Mercy Lewis, he intended to infiltrate MACUSA in a position of power. He couldn’t let that happen.

He tried to hold his wand steadier, but it only seemed to make the shaking of his exhausted limbs worse.

“Not going to happen,” he bit out simply. Grindelwald quirked a brow at him and made a show of looking him up and down.

“You know it’s unfortunate you’re against my cause, director, because I like you. You are a just leader, respectful of your staff from the lowest rung to the highest. You instilled great practices in your men and women, and even encouraged unlikely souls like Jace to strive for excellence when no one else gave him the time of day. It doesn’t have to be this way, you know. You could join me.”

Graves snorted even though it made his ribs ache and his spine sing and said, “Join you? You truly are mad if you think I would ever join you.”

Grindelwald made a show of sighing in disappointment and said remorsefully, “C’est la vie.”

Graves had no more warning than that before the man’s knobby wand was up and directed at him, one arcing spell after another flinging at him. With one hand, Graves directed the first blow away while attempting to side step the second, but it caught the barest edge of his shoulder and sent him staggering. He needed to get on the offensive, he knew, and yet he couldn’t find the time to do much more than barely avoid Grindelwald’s attacks. Magic screamed in the empty air of the docks, pulling up huge chunks of concrete and destroying cannisters around them.

Grindelwald had no mind for secrecy. His attacks were needlessly wild and destructive – and Graves realized the man intended for his spells to do more damage to the world around them than to Graves himself. He wanted to leave a scene behind. He wanted the No-Majs to know.

Graves had to risk it, he had to disapparate. He wouldn’t make any true distance that would get him to safety, but he could make it a few feet – and that would have to be enough.

He disappeared behind the light of another arcing spell before it could hit him and reappeared – breathless but whole – behind Grindelwald a moment later. He gathered his power as fiercely as he could and let lose a stunning spell that sent Grindelwald flying across the jagged pavement he had torn asunder and into a heap by the dock and the water.

Graves heaved a breath he couldn’t catch and moved to stand over his foe, to wrap him in chains and call for help, but as he stepped forward darkness began to creep around the edges of his vision.

“No,” he murmured, as though by words alone he could convince himself that he was fine. “No, no, no, not now.”

He took another two or three steps before his knees turned to jelly and bit the concrete. He cried out and he cursed raggedly beneath his breath, then finally looked up to find his enemy gone. He turned quickly to try and spot him and the shadows in his peripherals got worse. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to sleep.

He heard the sound of someone coming up beside him on his other side too late. He turned right into a spell that felt more like a punch to the face than anything constructive or purposeful. He shouted wetly, blood already slicking his lip, and knew immediately his nose was most certainly broken.

He tried to scrabble to his feet but Grindelwald shoved him back down to his knees mercilessly.

When Graves looked up, the man looked none the worse for wear. It seemed entirely unfair. Panic began to build inside his chest.

“W-why are you doing this?” Graves gasped wetly, his teeth shiny with blood from his broken nose. “Do you really hate the No-Majs so much that you would jeopardize the safety of your own kind?!”

Grindelwald towered over him, a menacing shadow with a shock of white hair and a shining pearly slit of a smile. He clucked his tongue and bent down at the hips so that he was invading the director’s space. With quick fingers, he snatched Graves’ chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tipped his gaze up to lock with his own unnatural stare.

“Oh my dear director,” he cooed, “Witches and wizards are not my kin. It is, however, because of them that my kind cannot enjoy this world as we should. We remain holed up in dark caves and murky waters and sinister alcoves, unable to journey back to our motherlands – filled with rich flora and soft sands and sunlight – because your kind is too afraid to put humans in their place. Too afraid of ‘exposure’.”

Graves blinked, his teeth-bared sneer melting into cautious confusion. One of his pupils wasn’t contracting anymore, concussed. Blood oozed sluggishly from his nose, his temple, his hair line.

“What do you mean, witches and wizards aren’t your kin?”

There was a tremble to his voice that Graves tried his best to hide, but Grindelwald caught it all the same. The madman smiled and when he did, two little canines became readily visible in his mouth.

Graves flinched.

“Rather presumptuous of you to assume your greatest enemy was a wizard, Mr. Graves. Don’t you think?” He chuckled. “I expected more from MACUSA’s greatest.”

“What are you?”

“It’s a little too late for that information to help you now, don’t you think?”

Graves’ mouth pressed into a firm, resigned line. He jerked his chin free of Grindelwald’s grasp and squared his jaw a little tighter, tipped his chin a little higher, and glared.

“Do your worst.”

He braced himself, jaw so tight it hurt, but forced himself not to close his eyes. He’d meet his end head on, he told himself. If nothing else, he would do that much.

Seconds ticked by and yet, nothing happened.

Grindelwald felt a little pang in his heart that he had not felt in years. His blood quickened in his veins, magic flush and excited just below his skin. He sucked in a quick, harsh breath and then let it out in a loud, slow, stuttering laugh – surprised, amused, enticed.

Intrigued.

“You are quite fascinating for a wizard, Percival,” Grindelwald smiled. He lifted his hand first to the man’s neck, his grip loose and suggestive as he thumbed the director’s fragile Adam’s Apple, and waited for a reaction. When no begging came, no crumpled expression, no fear, he then lifted that hand higher and brushed his thumb over the painful swelling of Graves’ broken nose and set it back to its proper place with magic. He smiled when he caught the noticeable surprise on Graves’ face. A startled blink and a soft, relieved sigh to finally have the throbbing in his face ebb away.

“Wha--?”

Grindelwald didn’t give him another moment to ponder it. He then brought his hand to cover the man’s eyes and compelled him to sleep with a soft, whispered spell. Exhausted as Graves was, the effect was instantaneous. He caught the director by the shoulders just before he could crumple completely to the ground and gently scooped him into his arms. He looked down fondly at the face of his unconscious potential mate-to-be and smiled.

“Oh what fun you’ve turned out to be, Percy dear. Oh what fun indeed.”

❇

Graves woke somewhere far away from New York, that much was clear right away. In the night’s air a chill had crept over him, but he could tell from the fine powder of the sand that he was somewhere warm and tropical, the sun having absorbed into it all day and only just beginning to fade.

His eyes fluttered – disoriented – as he was lifted momentarily in bodily jerks, the sound of popping buttons confusing him as they pattered uselessly to the sand around him. He was eased out of his shirt, then two hands ran down the length of him from his shoulders, over his tight chest, down the flat span of his stomach to stop at the hem of his trousers. He opened his eyes and took in the visage of his captor haloed in the sway of glittering palms. Palms unlike he had ever seen, their leaves pale like silver and glowing like stars in the darkness.

Above him, Grindelwald smiled kindly.

“Finally awake, sweetheart?”

Something fuzzy worsened in his head, making his mind feel stuffed with cotton and the pressure behind his eyes suffocating. He closed them and that felt a little better. Grindelwald chuckled softly, murmuring a soft ‘sleepy boy’ beneath his breath like a song. His shoes and socks were removed and his chill got sharper. His pants were jerked from his hips in rough pulls and thrown to join his shoes. Finally, his underwear joined them and he was naked in the sand, skin tan in contrast to the snow white of the particles that covered him.

Gentle hands cupped his cock and held it from his body as though weighing it. Distantly he caught Grindelwald murmur, “Large, and yet you could still be viable…”

What came next was stranger still, making the fog in his head flutter alarmingly as something screamed deafly to be heard. Something cold and long and soggy was stuck to his skin in a strip, then another and another, one after the other in a strange crosshatch. He opened his eyes with a wince and a little frown, and leaned up muzzily onto his elbows to look down to his hips where Grindelwald was sticking long stripes of seaweed onto him, murmuring unintelligibly all the while.

Words that slid through Graves’ mind like oil, too slick to catch but leaving runny trails in his mind as they passed by.

Grindelwald clucked his tongue disapprovingly and eased him down by the shoulders until he was prone once again, a whisper of magic making him drowsy once more, too heavy to move. He groaned, confused and exhausted, as hands lifted his legs in a rhythm of up and down, up and down – winding his lower body in seaweed and other marine plant life until his legs were bound together from hips to ankles like a worm.

“It’s almost over, love,” the man leaned over and said into his hair, lips murmuring into his scalp.

Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. What wasn’t right? The fog began to drift and thin. He was lifted into a pair of strong arms, sand falling from his back in a tinkle of dust that sparkled in the moonlight. He heard the sound of feet walking through water. Graves blinked and looked down. Grindelwald was walking them slowly, deliberately into the water. That was strange, he thought. But it would feel so good. His skin itched for it. Ached to be cooled of his fever. To be slick and chill and free. He let one hand droop down, eager for the water’s embrace, and Grindelwald chuckled.

“Such a good boy for me,” he praised. “So ready, so perfect. I knew you would be. We were made for each other, you and I. Destined to be mates.”

Graves moaned as his head suddenly throbbed. Mates… Mates with Grindelwald. Mates with… his enemy. The word clicked in his mind and he gasped like suddenly immerging from the water after staying down for too long. The docks, Jace, Grindelwald – he had been kidnapped and – wildly he reached for his magic, one hand out to blast Grindelwald away from him while he could still fall in shallow water and claw his way safely back to shore without drowning.

It didn’t come. Instead of his magic appearing as he envisioned, he felt it siphon from his palms and travel his veins down to the seaweed that embalmed him, absorbing it and warming around his flesh. His legs began to tingle, as well as his crotch, sending his heart into a fitful blaze.

“Ah, you’re back,” Grindelwald said with a smirk that bled into the tone of his words, “Just in time.”

“What are you—Are you fucking crazy?!” The words exploded from his mouth in a gush as surprisingly temperate water – not warm, but pleasantly cool, pleasantly refreshing – greeted first his ankles, then up his calves and the seat of his ass. He tried to kick out, but the seaweed was stronger than he could have imagined, so strong that it didn’t even stretch when he tried to spread his legs to break it. He pressed at Grindelwald with his hands, but the man only chuckled and continued to march them into the sparkling waters of the lagoon.

“Grindelwald,” he gasped as the water reached his navel, unable to hold back the desperation that was beginning to claw its way up his throat. He couldn’t swim like this, he’d drown, holy fuck Grindelwald was going to drown him.

His guts churned as death approached for a second time that night and he felt fear loosen his throat for a plea, for begging, but the words fell to dust in his mouth as the water turned Grindelwald’s clothing to specks of stars, hovering above the pool of water and lighting the way to its depths in the middle of the lagoon.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ve got you,” Grindelwald said, utterly unphased. “You wizards, you think you’re the most powerful generation this world has yet to spit from its womb; but time has made you deaf to the old stories and that only makes you blind. What use is all that power to a blind mind? Cut off from the Old Ways, throwing temper tantrums with your spells and foci like children. But you… You’re the closest I’ve seen to the men from the old times and the Old Ways. The most viable wizard I’ve seen in a long, long time.”

Viable. That word again.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

Grindelwald ignored him. The water embraced Graves to his shoulders, his neck. His breath accelerated. Fear seized his lungs like a vice and he craned his neck to stay above the water. He was going to drown—

Grindelwald took advantage of his open-mouthed plea for air, surging down to plunder him. He sucked Graves’ bottom lip between his teeth and he bit him, sharp canines piercing soft flesh.

Graves shoved at his shoulders and chest, and surprisingly Grindelwald released his lip, his smile bloody and pleased. Graves touched his swelling lip, red smearing across his fingertips, and tongued the puncture marks – deep and only on the inside of his lip. The punctures tasted strange; tangy like copper, yes, but something else. Salt water, maybe. Sharp and earthy.

His eyes were positively owlish when he looked up at Grindelwald, he knew, but it was hard to feel embarrassed when he was so damn confused, when his heart was hammering so hard, when his mouth was so full of that taste, quickly turning sweet. The more he licked and worried at it, the more the tingling in his crotch quickened and increased, spreading up his belly, enveloping him in a most concerning way.

“What—?” He managed to babble before one of Grindelwald’s hand came up to frame his jaw, searching for something so intensely it stole Graves’ focus for just a moment, before he swept one thumb to trace his lower lip and said, “You are going to be beautiful.”

Then Grindelwald let him go.

He managed one horrified yelp before the water embraced him.

Grindelwald’s image warped above him from beneath the water, his skin suddenly teal and white, glimmering strangely. He watched as Graves sank, hands thrashing to give him the push he needed to rise, but his bound legs anchored him down. He screamed and wriggled, his magic lashing out wildly and with abandon, but the seaweed ate everything up and the tingling just grew. It accumulated in his crotch and his waist, gathering in his chest, the sides of his neck, all down his legs and feet. The water pressed in on him unnaturally, and even though he had only sank a few feet it weighed on him as though it were trying to compress him, change his very shape. His scalp began to itch, his bones ached. Finally he screamed and the water came to claim him, and he welcomed it if it meant the endless pain would finally, finally end.

He awaited death; surely he could escape it no longer. A shadow passed in the water, quick like a dart. The edges of his vision began to grow black, the taste of the sea so fierce in his mouth and then there were lips on his, breathing what felt like heavy, glossy air back into his lungs. He latched onto the owner of those lips, nails digging in like a knife through butter as he clutched tight to them, breathing them in. When their lips parted, he surged forward for more, terrified he’d die, he’ drown, he’d – but the water ran through his lungs like fresh meadow air and he breathed.

He breathed underwater.

When next he opened his eyes, the world was as clear as it would have been on land, every inch of the depths of the lagoon painfully visible to him. It was unnatural, infeasible, and yet his heart still pounded at the wonder of it all. It was terrifying and yet amazing.

He was a good number of feet down now, nearly at the bottom. Hands grabbed his jaw and turned him, filling his vision with another man’s face – Grindelwald’s face – only it was different now.

His skin was flecked with pearly white scales that framed the very edges of his cheeks and brows, the length of his neck, his ribs and followed a trail down to –

Graves’ mind froze as he took in Grindelwald’s tail, just as pearly as the rest of him like a shroud of death, his fins gossamer and floating beautifully. He was broad like this, muscled in ways Graves hadn’t anticipated, and at his neck something fluttered. Gills, Graves realized. The man had gills.

“Mermaid,” Graves gasped dumbly. Something swirled in front of his eyes, making him jerk back, but those hands held his face close, stopping him from pulling away.

“No,” Grindelwald said, eyes suddenly so hungry. “Merman is the word you’re looking for. I’m not the Mermaid, sweetheart, you are.”

Then that hand raised and grabbed a swirl of that inky blackness that had swayed into his vision, stretching it between them until finally Graves felt a slight pull on his scalp. It was his hair, he realized, only longer than it had ever been, curling around him like a halo as it danced in the water.

Not a hint of grey in it either.

“So beautiful,” Grindelwald said, soft and slow like he was looking at a miracle. “Do you know how our kind is made, Percival?”

Percival. As though they were intimate; anything other than enemies. Our kind, like he was one of them – a creature of the sea. Beneath the seaweed his skin itched and ached.

“They can be born, yes, but the process is a long one. We’re hunted now. Relentlessly. Our mates cannot rest in the cool waters of our mating lagoons to grow fat and bear life because they cannot make the swim to them before they’re picked off. Babes are few and far between, our grounds destroyed by humans and development, and we can’t fight back because of these infernal statues of secrecy. We are near extinction, and yet the magical world turns a blind eye to us so they can remain comfortable. But there are other ways to create life. The wizards and witches that remember the Old Ways, the ones powerful enough to survive, they can be changed. Like you’ve been changed. And now we are one powerful Mer-creature closer to beating extinction.”

No, he thought, eyes wide and tears eaten by the lagoon as he shook his head in the frame of those hands. No, no, no.

He shoved the man away and reeled, disoriented, as his legs kicked awkwardly. Each thrash loosened the wrappings that kept him prisoner though, so he kicked harder, feeling them peel away like the petals of a flower on a sudden, crisp fall morning. The more he kicked the more the itching and the aching stopped, and he sucked in a sigh of relief as they faded away and finally he could move, he could swim.

But it felt wrong. He couldn’t separate his legs, everything beneath his hips felt alien and cumbersome. He flailed in the water frustratedly before finally twisting to look at his legs, convinced there was still some seaweed trapping him tight, only to find all of the seaweed gone.

Gone like his legs. Instead everything from his hips down was a solitary, powerful column of muscles that tapered down to a single thin joint and bloomed into a set of large, silky looking fins.

He was covered in scales, rich like blazing emeralds and tipped in black, contrasting strikingly against the paleness of his belly where scales turned to skin once more. His forearms where flecked with it; his belly, his ribs, his chest. And he was smooth. Genderless looking.

His prick was gone.

“The fuck…” he wheezed, hands shaking as he moved them over the flatness of his scales and new appendage. “What the fuck!”

Grindelwald swam up to and swatted his hands away, then grabbed his slender hip by one large hand and began to run the fingers of his other over a select group of scales, voice gentle as he reassured him.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh, you’re all right. It’s here,” he purred, and Graves could only suck in a sharp breath as his scales fluttered, nerves alight in a manner he couldn’t even comprehend but knew was arousing. Grindelwald pet that place again and again, the tip of one nail parting a few and slowly creating a seam Graves hadn’t even realized was there. From this seam his flesh began to part and slowly, ever so slowly, a small protrusion began to appear – pink, tender and tapered.

And small. At least half the size he remembered it.

“Ah,” Grindelwald said, “Not quite done yet are we?”

Graves had no more warning than that. Grindelwald began to stroke it, cooing over how perfect it was soon going to be, and Graves felt his body melt into the man’s hold. His eyes rolled and a strange, melodic purring began to emit from his throat, vibrating his gills. He tried to control himself, to suck in a breath to tell him to stop, to let him think, but he could barely hold onto Grindelwald’s forearm and shoulder to brace himself, let alone string together coherent sentences.

Below his prick he felt something swell and heat, pleased by the attention. He figured it was his balls.

And in Grindelwald’s hand Graves’ cock slowly but surely began to shrink. At first Graves thought the thing was merely retracting back into his body. With every throb Grindelwald’s fingers coaxed from the little organ, it seemed to swell before shrinking to a length shorter than before, over and over. Before Graves’ eyes he lost another inch, then another – helpless as Grindelwald stroked his size away.

“Nna-aah, nn, nn, nno-ooh-aaah, ah, ah.”

“You’re still intact, mostly,” Grindelwald said, focused on his task, eyes fixed on Graves’ moistening slit as something thicker than water began to ooze from the seam that continued beneath the man’s little dick, a hole slowly beginning to appear from behind it. “Although this little thing is going to be much too pretty to call a prick, really. It’s more similar to a woman’s clitoris than the heft of a real man’s cock. Not to worry, though, you’ll match this cute little thing soon enough.”

The thought was terrifying and yet Graves couldn’t resist the magic of Grindelwald’s fingers. The shrinking didn’t stop until he came, spurting a little cloud of clear liquid, and he tried not to think about the fact that the man had needed little more than a thumb and index finger to coax Graves’s pathetic excuse for a cock to orgasm. It was barely larger than a grown man’s thumb now, and even though he had come it appeared to refuse to soften – instead bobbing and twitching in post orgasmic bliss against Graves’ tail.

“What the… What the fuck did you do to me?” He asked, eyes still closed as he reeled from the strength of his orgasm. It hadn’t been like ejaculating as a man had been. It had been a full body pull that sent shivers over his entire being, making his nipples perk and stand hard on his chest, and all of his skin – and scales – tingle. Lost as he was in the sensation, still butter soft in Grindelwald’s arms, he missed it the moment the merman slipped a thick thumb in something he couldn’t even fathom.

He had never felt anything like it. It wasn’t his anus, he knew, and yet there was a new, moist cavity beneath his ball-less prick that Grindelwald had slid into. He mewled before he could shout, his throat lax and prone to moaning after so much pleasure. It felt…

Amazing.

Grindelwald’s thumb and the girth of his middle knuckle stretched him pleasantly, his opening so slick and swollen from the prior attention to his prick. Grindelwald stroked his tender insides before pulling out and inserting two fingers instead, searching. Graves gasped, heart thrumming, overwhelmed by all these changes and the fast pace of their revelations that he couldn’t keep up with.

Grindelwald pressed something inside him and finally he screamed, head thrown back and throat taut as he clutched tighter to the merman, drawing blood.

“Perfection,” Grindelwald purred, voice so dark and so hungry – barely reminiscent of the man on the beach. “I’ve got you, darling, you’re almost done.”

The fingers were removed and his slit ached from the loss, that moist seam drooling helplessly into the water, trying to entice something, anything back in. He felt empty. He whined.

Something long and tapered and hot pressed against him, two hands holding his hips firmly in place and then it was sliding in, filling him in one long fluid push. He yowled, the end of his scream melting into a moan as finally the aching dissipated, and pleasure bloomed in him once more. His tiny dick shivered between two scaled bellies as Grindelwald began to thrust, twirling them in lazy circles as he kissed Graves’ neck, his shoulders, the edges of his hairless and softening jaw.

Graves’ eyes rolled, and while something in the back of his mind howled that he needed to pay attention and escape, he couldn’t focus past the relentless rhythm of Grindelwald’s pounding dick in his sopping cunt. Hands moved from his hips – hot and swollen – and brushed his nipples instead, tweaking and pulling and playing until they felt hot and swollen too. Graves mewled, the sounds swallowed by a hungry mouth when Grindelwald quickly kissed him, tongue slipping between lust slackened lips and conquering.

Grindelwald pet the seam of skin stretched around the girth of his invading prick, stroked it while it appeared to swell even more where they met. Graves keened as that stretch moved further and further into him, struggling at his surreal entrance until finally it popped in, making his cock dribble feebly. He could feel it traveling up and into his new insides, passing up and up and up. He felt a little bloated.

Another followed just behind it, stretching him just as taut before sliding in. Grindelwald pet his neck and his hair. He pressed kisses into his neck and when next he tweaked his nipples Graves felt the flesh of his chest move as though there was some give to it. He moaned, confused, aroused.

The third swell entered a little easier. He could feel his stomach begin to press against Grindelwald’s flat abdominals.

“You’re going to be so fat with my eggs,” Grindelwald said. “You’re going to save us.”

His hips ached. His belly felt so full and while it felt mind-blowing entering, the next egg made him feel too tight, fit to burst. He sobbed into an open-mouthed kiss as Grindelwald’s words registered. Eggs. He was impregnating him.

Finally no more eggs passed through him, and as though Grindelwald knew there would be no more, he began to thrust – hard and heavy. Graves could feel a strange weight on his chest, shifting with each thrust. He tried to look down but Grindelwald slipped in for another kiss, his tongue running over Graves’ sharp new canines. He whined when Grindelwald grabbed his chest and pressed that weight into him, and he knew he was soft there. Without looking, he knew he was suddenly soft there.

“Perfect,” Grindelwald gasped into Graves’ mouth, shoved forward twice more, and then warmth was blooming inside Graves, filling him even more. It came like a slow and steady faucet, and he kept waiting for it to end, but it seemed endless. His bloat worsened, fat against Grindelwald’s slim belly. Fingers took him by his tiny cock and fondled him and he clenched, his whole body seizing as that pushed him over the edge. He could feel it as his insides milked Grindelwald’s dick, urging more of the merman’s seed deeper, and he sobbed.

Grindelwald only pulled out once it had stopped, but nothing leaked out with the exit of his dick.

He brushed a large thumb over Graves’ sopping, gaping entrance and purred as it shrank again beneath his touch, taking his dick with it, the scales sealing and trapping in his eggs and sperm.

Leaving him fat and – and – and –

He sobbed again, hands shaking as he reached down for his pudgy belly. He looked down and his face contorted as he found his view obscured by two modest breasts, just enough for a handful.

Grindelwald cupped one and brushed a thumb over its still erect nipple, smiling when Graves moaned despite himself and shivered.

“Lovely,” he purred, “Marvelous, perfect. Such a good mama.”

“Get them out,” Graves whispered, eyes wet. “Change me back.”

“No, pretty mama,” Grindelwald said as he moved both hands up to cup a slender jaw and pet back tears from long, sooty black lashes framed with flecks of beautiful green scales. “There is no going back.”

He guided Graves' hand back onto his heavy breast and squeezed his hand around it while taking the other to Graves’ belly, making him feel the life beginning to sow there.

“There is no going back.”

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, arialerendeair!

For @arialerendeair, I hope you like it; I tried to put as many of your favorite things!

Read On AO3

*****

Whose Eyes See All and Still Gazes in Earnest

The day Alec gets his first few gray hairs, Magnus sighs happily.

“Finally,” he grins, “I’ve always thought you’d look good a silver fox.”

Alec rolls his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips as Magnus crawls onto his lap. “Didn’t know you had a thing for old men,” he quips.

“Three gray hairs do not make an old man, Alexander,” Magnus chuckles as he noses into Alec’s neck, “Take it from someone who’s actually an old man.”

Alec looks at Magnus, his gaze pointed. “You say that as if you didn’t go ballistic at the sight of one gray hair on your head.”

Magnus remembers when the memory gave him merciless pain. Nowadays, he lets himself chuckle at the thought. “Was admittedly not my best self that night.”

Alec’s palms press against Magnus’ side, comforting. “Understandably,” he murmurs, before asking, “Can you promise me one thing?”

Alec’s tone is suddenly serious as he looks imploringly into Magnus’ eyes. Magnus sits back onto Alec’s thighs, concerned. “Of course, darling. Anything.”

Alec grasps Magnus’ shoulders, forlorn. “If it comes down to it,” he draws in a staggering breath, “Magic my bald spot away.”

Magnus blinks, watching as Alec loses his cool and finally erupts into a side-splitting laugh. Alec throws his head back until it butts against the back of the couch, a palm pressed against the spot where his heart rests. The lines around his eyes crease beautifully, now a little bit more pronounced than before.

“You’re a little shit,” Magnus complains, and Alec takes Magnus’ face within his hands and presses a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Don’t let me end up looking like my dad,” he wheezes, “God, please don’t.”

Magnus ends up laughing too, kissing the lines around Alec’s eyes.

“Fine,” Magnus says, “Now fuck me before the kids get home. Or do you need help with your back too?”

A smirk grows on Alec’s mouth, the same mouth that swallows Magnus’ yell as Alec flips both of them onto the couch.

They have an hour before a portal from the academy materializes inside their living room.

*****

Magnus sighs, his brow scrunched in annoyance. He takes a big breath and yells up the flight of stairs, “Max Michael Lightwood-Bane, Raphael Santiago Lightwood-Bane!”

Magnus waits, fingers impatiently drumming against the wooden railing, as a muffled mess of a response echoes from behind closed doors. He hears one door being thrown open.

“Dad, I’m still trying to figure out this suit,” Rafe yells, “How are there three pieces?!”

Magnus calls out, “Max, help your brother!”

One room down, Magnus hears his other son snort.

“If he’s twenty-three years old and still doesn’t know how a suit works, that’s on him,” Max sneers, which earns him an irate suck my dick, asshole from his older brother. A loud scuffling ensues, and even without seeing it, Magnus knows they’re trying to punch at each other’s private parts.

Magnus sighs exasperatedly. These boys are in their early twenties, and they’re trying to ball-tap each other into submission. Magnus wonders if all this tomfoolery would have been circumvented by having girls instead.

“By Lucifer’s light, if you both don’t get down from there, I will lose it!” Magnus nearly bellows, and the threat successfully brings his two sons thundering down the stairs.

“We’re here,” Max pants, hands held out in placation, “Don’t get mad.”

“A little too late for that,” Magnus huffs in front of a mirror as he smoothens the creases on his jacket, staring down his reflection with a frown.

“We’re sorry, dad,” Max nearly pouts as he lays his head against Magnus’ shoulder, “We were just messing around. It’s those childhood bedrooms, it brings us back, you know?”

Rafe presses his palms over Magnus’ shoulders. “I know you’re stressed,” he says, “It’s dad’s fiftieth, after all.”

Magnus sighs as he reaches back to ruffle both Max and Rafe’s hair. He pats the back of Max’s hand.

“I just want it to be perfect,” Magnus admits.

“It will be,” Rafe presses, “We planned this thing down to those little things of food that goes on trays.”

Max rolls his eyes – it’s called hors d'oeuvres stupid – looking like the spitting image of a younger Alec as he does. He definitely got his sass from his other father, Magnus affectionately thinks.

“Dad will love it,” Max assures, “I promise.”

Magnus smiles at his two boys, perfect in their formal clothes. Max has hidden away his warlock’s mark, and Rafe’s runes peek slightly from underneath his sleeves. Magnus remembers when they were just little children, running around the living room with their small feet padding against the wooden floor. Now, Magnus has to look up at them.

Magnus remembers mournfully telling Alec about being the shortest person in the family, who only chuckles in response as he plants a kiss on Magnus’ cheek. Magnus realizes he misses his husband terribly already.

“We gotta move,” Rafe says as he scrolls through his phone, “Uncle Jace says he’s taking dad to the New York Institute soon.”

“Let me,” Max says, “I’ve been practicing.”

“You better not singe my hair,” Rafe warns.

Max retorts, “It’ll be a great improvement.”

“Boys,” Magnus says before they delve into yet another scuffle. It effectively silences them both.

Max goes through the motions of creating a portal. A golden, circular rift erupts in the middle of the living room, the air around it distorting the fabric of reality. With a careful step, Rafe speedily enters. Magnus follows with Max quick on his tail, and before they know it, the darkness winks away into the grand hall of the New York Institute.

*****

“Happy birthday, Consul Lightwood,” Alicante’s weapon’s master greets him as she passes by the open door of his office.

Alec peers over his reading glasses, smiling. “Thanks, Margo. Just Alec, remember?”

Margo turns a soft pink, chuckling. “Ah, yes. I always forget. I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Grab some cake on your way out,” Alec says, motioning towards the open box on the coffee table, “The students from the Academy sent it over.”

Margo’s brows rise in interest as she cautiously crosses the room and takes a peek into the box. Alec knows she has a sweet tooth.

“The students sent it?” she asks, “They must like you a lot. Most trainees are scared of their Consuls.”

“I do guest lectures on Nephilim-Down World Relations when I have the time,” Alec says as he scribbles something down on the document before him. He adds with a smile, “I give them archery pointers too.”

Margo ahhs, nodding with understanding. She picks up a paper plate and eyes the cake with interest.

“Take as much as you want,” Alec smirks to himself, “My husband’s on a warpath against processed sugar and will have a coronary if he sees me take all of this home.”

“Diabetes?” Margo asks with humor, as to which Alec laughs.

“Pre,” he points out.

“How is Magnus, by the way?” Margo asks.

The ease of Magnus’ name coming out of her mouth is a testament to his personability. Everybody likes Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Alicante. That and the fact that he has extended his services free of charge to Margo when he heard about her wish to transition. Alec and Magnus welcome Margo into their home every month for what Magnus calls ‘rebalancing appointments’.

“He’s alright,” Alec answers, “Meeting the whole family for dinner tonight. Rafe and Max portalled in this morning.”

Margo notes through a forkful of icing, “Must be something big.”

Alec chuckles, flipping to the next page of the document. “I have a feeling it might be bigger than what he lets on.”

“Well, good luck,” Margo grins as she slips out the door, “Hope you have a good birthday, Alec. And thanks for the cake.”

“Thanks and you’re welcome,” Alec says before reminding her, “Tomorrow, general assembly.”

“See you then,” Margo says before disappearing into the hallway.

Alec sighs, leaning back onto his chair that creaks under the shift of his weight. He takes his phone and opens the many birthday greetings that have trickled into his message box the past few hours, taking note to reply to all of them at the end of the day. He pulls up his conversation with Magnus and sees a reply from his last text.

Remember, 8 PM tonight. Love you :)

Alec can’t help but smile. He shoots a quick reply that consists of an I love you too that makes his heart flutter in his chest even to this day. He figures he should at least get to a bathroom and see if he needs to make himself more presentable after a twelve-hour workday.

Alec rises from his chair and maneuvers through a moderately busy hallway. He returns all the birthday greetings with a polite expression of gratitude until he slips into the private bathroom reserved only for him. The door closes with a click, and with that, he takes in his reflection in the mirror. He takes off his reading glasses and tucks them into the pocket of his jacket.

“Happy fiftieth birthday, old man,” he says under his breath.

Alec takes stock of himself. He still stands tall even after fifty years of being alive. Despite the deep-seated aches in his muscles, his body can still withstand an interdimensional battle or two. His hair is more gray than black now, and every day, he discovers new lines on his face that weren’t there before. He doesn’t need to smile for his eye lines to show; it’s the most pronounced its ever been.

I like them, Magnus would always say with fondness, I used to have to wait until you smiled to see these lines. Now, you look like you’re happy all the time.

For a long time, Magnus’ immortality had long been the crack on the floor Alec chose to cover up instead of addressing. It was easy – so painfully easy – to forget the years of existence Magnus has in his back pocket when the only villainous things on the horizon were hell spawns and the madmen. Alec tended to forget that Magnus will be immortalized like this; smooth skin, shining eyes, for the rest of his life as Alec aged around him. But with Valentine gone and Edom in ruins, the battles Alec fought for the first few years of their marriage were the ones he was the most terrified of confronting.

Now, Alec believes he has grappled with the worst of it all. The fights he and Magnus used to have were agonizing; an exchange of caustic words that sometimes, despite their best efforts, were meant to maim. Hurting someone as steadfast as Alec Lightwood is a highly specialized skill, one only a few people truly possess. After all, it is the people who you love most who hurt you best.

Nowadays, a hard-fought acceptance is sheathed where helplessness used to be. At almost half-a-century old, Alec fights the fatalistic monster of his mortality differently.

He touches first. His fingers, aching at the joints, find Magnus’ sides like they always do. Magnus knowingly turns away from his work – potions, spells, politics – without a second thought, spinning easily on his heels, before gently culling Alec into his arms. Alec sinks into the crook of Magnus’ neck, breathing the scent of sage and castor oil deep into his lungs, a memory to keep.

There you are, Magnus would say, his mouth against Alec’s neck.

And like clockwork, Alec would say, there you are.

It doesn’t alleviate the ache, but it helps.

“Chop chop, old man,” Jace’s unmistakable voice calls, “We’re supposed to be meeting the family for your birthday dinner!”

The knock on the door wrenches Alec away from his thoughts, which is admittedly a welcome intrusion. With a thorough scrub of his hands under running water, Alec rolls his eyes. “I’m only two years older than you,” he calls back.

Jace teases from behind the door, “Still the first to hit fifty though. How does it feel to be decrepit?”

After drying his hands with a paper towel and a quick combing of his fingers through his hair, Alec emerges from the bathroom.

“I don’t know, how does it feel to have a bald spot?” Alec wonders with a smirk.

“Fucking rude,” Jace laughs as they both make their way through the hall, “Just because you have Magnus giving you magical hair plugs.”

“I’m married to a guy who will never age out of his hotness,” Alec says, “A full head of hair is non-negotiable. Also, this is all mine.”

“Bullshit,” Jace retorts, “You’re too old to lie about your looks, Alec.”

“I’m not lying,” Alec smirks, “Ask Magnus.”

“Sure, let me just ask the least biased guy in the world,” Jace scoffs before saying defensively, “Clary still finds me hot, I’ll have you know.”

Alec winces in disgust. “Did you really need to have me know?”

This earns Alec a kick on the shin, one that causes him to stumble. He snickers as he easily catches himself. They step out the ornate, arching door that opens into the courtyard where one of Alicante’s warlock mission specialists awaits.

“Anyway,” Jace says, his tone suddenly somber, “How are you feeling? This is a lot. With Magnus’ immortality and all.”

Alec doesn’t look at Jace as they cross the courtyard. Age has brought more than aching muscles and gray hair to their relationship. It has also gifted them with an openness that their younger selves were too stubborn to afford. Sometimes, Alec wonders what kinds of pain they would’ve been able to spare each other if they had learned to talk a lot sooner.

“I’m fine,” Alec says, instead, looking down momentarily at his hands. He sees the slight sag of skin there, as well as the softening callouses brought about by years of consul work.

“Be honest,” Jace says, and Alec feels his lips upturn into a small smile.

“I am,” Alec says gently, “I’ve thought about this. Tortured myself with it even, back when it all seemed too big to grasp.”

“And?” Jace prods.

“We’re happy,” Alec says, “That’s all that matters.”

“That simple, huh?” Jace says with wonder in his voice.

Alec shrugs. “We had to make it simple or else we’d lose our minds.”

“I miss being young,” Jace sighs as he follows suit, “Don’t you miss it?”

“I do miss waking up with my back not aching,” Alec admits.

They both settle to a stop. Alec nods politely at the warlock and a portal erupts before them, its edges tugging at the fabric of this dimension. Before stepping in, Jace places a sympathetic hand on Alec’s shoulder.

“There’s a stretch I do to loosen my back muscles,” Jace says, “It’s called sex. You’ve probably forgotten what that’s like.”

Jace looks immensely proud of himself.

“No,” Alec hums, “I got a pretty good reminder this morning.”

Jace’s deep laugh carries into the portal as they both step in. The last thing they hear from Alicante is the choking noise that comes out of the young warlock that closes the portal behind them.

Alec makes it a point to apologize to him the moment he gets back to Idris.

*****

Oh, darling, Magnus murmurs, fingers spreading oil over the swollen knuckles of Alec’s hands.

Winter always does this to Alec’s bones. The chill seeps in deeply. All those years spent gripping seraph blades and drawing bows have worn down the cartilage in Alec’s joints. The arthritis gets exceptionally bad first thing in the morning.

Alec watches as Magnus kneads the stiffness away, the pads of his thumb circling the meeting points of his brittle bones. There's magic in the oil that no angelic rune or mundane remedy could match. Magnus wakes up early in the morning to brew it, just so he can ease Alec’s body into the day. Every stiff spot, every stubborn knot – Magnus knows them all by heart now.

Sorry, Alec whispers.

Magnus wonders, whatever for?

I don’t know, Alec admits.

Magnus digs his thumbs across the palm of Alec’s hand, releasing the tension that grips the muscles and tendons.

I’m happiest like this, Magnus says simply, nothing more.

By the time Magnus finishes, he presses a kiss onto the back of Alec’s hand. Magnus rises from the bed, muttering something about portalling to Rome for a cappuccino. He waits for Alec to ease himself off the bed and onto his feet. He takes Alec’s hand as they pad out of the bedroom.

From then on, Alec tries his hardest not to apologize anymore.

*****

A chorus of happy birthday erupts the moment Alec sets foot onto the Grand Hall of the New York Institute.

Alec’s suspicion of the event, surprisingly, couldn’t dampen the grin that spreads over his face. Jace laughs beside him, palming his shoulder merrily. Izzy is the first to get to him with a tight hug that makes his bones ache. Unlike Alec and Jace, Izzy’s hair remains sleek-black and tied up in a ponytail. She is as young as the day she chose immortality.

“Happy birthday, Alec,” she says before looking up at him with a teasing grin, “You old fart.”

“Shut up,” Alec says fondly. He presses a kiss on her head because it’s hard not to when she looks so young. “Thank you. Where’s Simon?”

Izzy laughs. “Bathroom.”

“Typical,” Jace smirks.

“Alec!” Clary exclaims, taking Izzy’s place in his arms, “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Clary,” Alec smiles, “And how long were you in on this?”

“Too long,” Clary sighs, “I was in charge of the guest list.”

Alec looks around, surprised at the volume of friends and family within the spacious hall.

“Don’t worry,” Clary whispers knowingly, “I didn’t invite the Pearlhearts.”

Alec squeezes Clary’s shoulder in gratitude. “Good.”

Alec finally makes his way through the crowd. He smiles at his guests, shaking the hands of those he recognizes and embracing those who he hasn’t seen in a very long time. Maia, who is with Izzy and Simon, gives Alec a kiss on the cheek when he gets close enough. She apologizes for not being able to stay for long; alpha business, she says. Aline and Helen, who now oversees the entirety of the European Institutes as Idris delegates to Europe, have portalled in from Switzerland for the occasion. Lydia waves at Alec from where she and Catarina are chatting. Alec hasn’t seen them both in so long. Catarina spent years with Nursing Without Borders in typhoon-ravaged parts of South East Asia, while Lydia, who elected to leave Shadowhunter politics entirely, is now an educator in Shadowhunter Academies all over the world.

It’s an overwhelming sight to see, but in a good way.

Inevitably, Alec’s gaze is caught by the soft tangle flowers that spread over the ceiling. Yellow blooms dangle over their heads, surrounded by lush foliage of leaves and dotted with twinkling lights. It speaks of Magnus’ meticulous design.

Alec walks along the sprawling, meticulously set table, his steps calm but quick. Everything thrums of Magnus’ intricate handiwork, from the table settings to the sprigs of rosemary and sage pinned onto the folded napkin. Like a treasure at the end of a rainbow, he finds his family at the table’s end. They wait for him patiently.

I love them, Alec thinks, just because.

“Small dinner?” Alec laughs as he corrals his two boys into his arms, “I raised liars!”

“It’s all dad’s idea! We did it under duress,” Max grins with a kiss to Alec’s cheek, “Happy birthday, dad.”

“Happy birthday, dad,” Rafe greets with a smile, his arm winding around Alec’s back.

“Thank you,” Alec murmurs, his palms brushing against his sons’ shoulders. They both slip out of his embrace as if in anticipation. They stand by Alec’s side, watching affectionately as Alec finally finds his husband’s gaze.

“Well?” Alec asks mirthfully. Magnus, looking as beautiful as ever, saunters towards Alec with a teasing smile on his lips. Alec’s hand rests onto Magnus’ hip as he asks, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“It’s your birthday, darling,” Magus grins, “I should be asking you that.”

Kiss him, someone from the back howls – no doubt Jace – and if there’s anything Jace can do with the utmost skill, it’s riling people up. Magnus and Alec’s spectators hoot and clap as if it’s the reception to their wedding and not a birthday. It’s Max and Rafe’s defeated sighs that make Alec want to sweep Magnus off his feet and into his arms for maximum carnage.

Alec rolls his eyes instead, visibly fighting a smile. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Magnus raises a brow. “So you won’t kiss your husband of more than twenty years?”

“Now, now, I didn’t say that,” Alec hums as he guides Magnus into his arms and grinning into a chaste kiss that they waste no time sharing. Magnus laughs as the crowd around them swells with applause, and finally, he wraps Alec into a comfortable embrace.

“Happy birthday, Alexander,” Magnus says.

Alec kisses the shoulder of Magnus’ jacket. “Thank you, Magnus,” he murmurs, “I love you.”

Magnus kisses his I love you too onto Alec’s cheek as he peels himself out of Alec’s arms.

“Dinner first, dancing later!” Magnus calls out, and with a graceful flick of the wrist, the table is magicked with fancy food from end to end.

As their guests happily settle into their seats, Alec whispers, “Dancing?”

“Don’t make excuses because I won’t take them,” Magnus says with a tone of finality.

Alec laughs. He’s learned a lot in the past twenty or so years.

“Wasn’t gonna,” Alec whispers.

Alec takes a flute of champagne from one of the servers and takes a sip. From the head of the table, he sees every person who has mattered to him in the entirety of his life.

“Darling,” Magnus says, tugging at his hand.

Alec smiles. “Coming.”

*****

Magnus laughs as he is swept off his feet and into Alec’s arms. He locks his legs around Alec’s torso, his ankles hooking against each other as Alec kisses a trail down his neck. Magnus is pressed against the wall of their foyer, gasping as Alec’s teeth sink softly into his skin.

It has been three minutes since Alec and Magnus closed the door behind their youngest who had just moved out.

Magnus grins as he lazily rolls his hips against Alec’s. “If I knew an empty nest turned you on this much,” he teases, “I would’ve kicked Max out a long time ago.”

“Liar,” Alec laughs, fumbling with the clasp of Magnus’ intricate vintage belt, “You would’ve kept at least one of them here five more years if you had it your way.”

“I’m a softie, Alexander,” Magnus whines. His head butts back onto the wall as Alec outlines Magnus’ cock through his underwear. “Fuck.. Let me down, darling..”

Alec lets Magnus dismount, and with one snap of Magnus’ fingers, he is naked under Alec’s touch. Alec sighs blissfully as he takes Magnus’ lips back against his, tongue licking into Magnus’ mouth, fingernails scratching lines over smooth skin. Magnus doesn’t magic away Alec’s clothes; he has always found satisfaction in peeling every layer with his own hands. It’s a pleasure he indulges in no matter how strung tight they both are.

Alec kneels, ignoring the ache it brings as his knees kiss the wooden floor. Instead, he loses himself in pressing his mouth and lapping his tongue over every inch of skin he meets on his way down. Magnus’ body, untouched by time, undulates under Alec’s hands. Alec pins Magnus’ hips against the wall, a silent command that brings a haze of pleasure over Magnus’ eyes. Alec springs Magnus’ cock from his underwear, lips gently dragging over the sensitive nerve endings at the head.

“Alexander,” Magnus nearly pleads, his fingers threading through Alec’s salt-and-pepper hair.

“Patience,” Alec murmurs, to which Magnus huffs no. Alec chuckles, barely kissing the crown of Magnus’ cock in admonishment.

“If you don’t fuck me now –” Magnus’ threat crumbles on the tip of his tongue as Alec sinks down onto his cock with no preamble. His words escape him in a full-body shudder.

“Alexander, fuck,” Magnus gasps, watching as Alec languidly drags the warmth of his mouth back onto the head of Magnus’ cock before engulfing it again down to the hilt. Magnus clips a leg over Alec’s shoulder, drawing him even closer.

The fixture above their heads casts a brightness over their fucking like a spotlight onto a painting. Magnus’ moans hang in the air as Alec sucks him off with a skill that came to fruition after years of repetition. Every crest Magnus hits with every brush of Alec’s lips and every stroke of Alec’s tongue is its own masterpiece to behold. Just as Magnus knows every arthritic swell on Alec’s bones, Alec knows all the ways Magnus’ body likes to be praised. Alec kisses Magnus’ shaft and gently presses a thumb against Magnus’ hole. By the time Alec has palmed Magnus’ tightened sac, Magnus is already fucking into his mouth uncontrollably.

“Yes, darling, just like that,” Magnus whispers, urgently rutting into the wet heat of Alec’s mouth, “Look at you.. Just as beautiful as the day I first saw you..”

Surprising wetness lines Alec’s eyes, growing heavily at the corners.

Magnus’ breath hitches, his muscles clenching and unclenching as his orgasm builds with turbulence that makes the rhythm of his fucking falter. “I could find you in a crowded room, Alexander,” he says, “I could find you even if you were a dot in the universe.”

Alec palms his own cock as he blinks away tears that cling onto his lashes. He could feel the pads of Magnus’ fingers pressed against his scalp as if his nerves have taken hold of the sensation and refuse to let go.

“I’m gonna come,” Magnus gasps. Alec nods, his other hand gripping the firm muscle of Magnus’ ass.

Magnus hits his crest with Alec’s name on his tongue. He curls over Alec with Alec’s head cradled within his arms, a near recreation of the golden embrace of a Gustav Klimt. Magnus breathes deeply, pressing his lips against Alec’s hair as Alec releases Magnus’ spent cock. Alec swallows the spunk that sits on his tongue, and it tastes like the Magnus he knows and loves.

Magnus tips Alec’s chin to meet his gaze. He asks softly, “Have I made you cry?”

Alec sniffs, joking, “What’s new?” He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand.

���I didn’t mean to,” Magnus murmurs, “I love you.”

Alec kisses Magnus; deeply, longingly. He rises to his feet. “I know,” he says when he pulls away, “Of course I know.”

“Let’s go to the bed,” Magnus says cheekily, “Your turn.”

Alec shakes his head, pressing his palm against Magnus’ jaw. “I didn’t take my pill,” he murmurs, “I think that’s it for me tonight. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Magnus leans into Alec’s touch, “No apologies, remember?”

Magnus walks backward towards their bedroom, pulling Alec by the hand. Alec lets himself be led into the bedroom and out of his remaining clothes.

“Besides,” Magnus winks, “You know I love a challenge.”

Alec rolls his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling if he wanted to.

*****

“Dad can’t be hot,” Max protests, “He’s dad.”

Magnus laughs, limbs all loose, his head tossed back. Alec snorts as he takes the martini glass from Magnus’ hand before the contents find themselves all over Magnus’ trousers. The family sits in a loose circle at the end of the table; Jace, Clary, Simon, and Izzy had all pulled their chairs closer fifteen minutes ago. The rest of their guests have elected to fill the dancefloor.

“Your father wasn’t always the silver fox that he is now,” Magnus says, “You were too young to remember. Rafe does though, right?”

Rafe nods. “Dad’s right,” he says, hands up in the air in defeat, “Dad was pretty good looking.”

Alec raises a brow at his eldest. “Excuse me? Was?”

“Gross Rafe,” Max exclaims, “Take it back! I don’t want that idea in my brain!”

“Look, I’m not one to compliment the guy,” Jace says, “But Alec was a total looker. Not as much as I was, but a close second.”

Clary giggles into her drink, mumbling under her breath. It sounded something along the lines of pretty boy, to which Jace gives her a snickering shh. Izzy, however, has already caught it with her ridiculously acute hearing.

“Oh my god,” Izzy says, “Pretty boy.”

Magnus laughs again, eyes scrunched close as he leans his head against the bulk of Alec’s shoulder. Alec grins into Magnus’ martini as he takes a sip.

“What’s pretty boy?” Rafe asks.

Izzy bounces on her seat with excitement.

“Easy,” Simon laughs, but Izzy still delves into the story with the same high-level gusto.

“The first time your dads met, we were in the middle of some kind of mission.”

“Unsanctioned, by the way,” Alec points out, which causes the circle to boo him mercilessly. He snickers, taking another sip from Magnus’ drink.

“There was so much flirting,” Izzy groans, fingers pressed into her temples, “An insane amount.”

“Ugh, what’s new?” Max asks, which earns him a pinch in the side from Magnus.

“Kids, this is how your dad,” Izzy looks pointedly at Magnus and then at Alec, “Reeled in your dad.”

Everybody else watches in anticipation, grinning from ear to ear while Magnus and Alec curl into each other comfortably.

“We needed to summon a memory demon that night. So your dad goes,” Izzy then says in her best impersonation of Magnus, “Pretty boy, get your team ready.”

Magnus looks impressed.

Izzy continues. “And your Uncle Jace, because he thinks the entire world wants to sleep with him, goes I know what to do, like an idiot.”

Clary giggles even louder, hiding her eyes behind her hand. Jace, pink in the face at the memory, cringes. He receives a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Simon.

“But then your dad rolls his eyes, holds out his hand, and says, I’m not talking you,” Izzy continues, her own arm barricading Simon by the chest, who affectionately squeezes her wrist. Grinning, she gracefully points a finger towards Alec’s direction, the perfect imitation of Magnus’ gesture.

“I’m talking to you.”

The circle howls, bursting into applause as if they just sealed yet another rift from yet another circle of hell. Magnus collapses against Alec, completely bereft of air as laughter consumes him from head to toe. Alec snickers, hand smoothing the fabric of Magnus’ jacket.

“I still hate that I wasn’t there for that,” Simon sighs.

“God, dad’s got game,” Max says, appalled, “By the damn angel.”

“It’s only good if it actually worked,” Rafe corrects, turning to Izzy, “Aunt Iz, what happened next?”

Izzy melts, pressing her hands to her heart. “Oh, Rafe. Your dad had the biggest, softest smile. I hadn’t seen him smile like that, ever.”

She turns to Magnus and Alec, eyes glassy. “It’s the smile of someone who finally felt seen.”

The corner of Alec’s mouth quirks upwards. Magnus burrows deeper into the crook of Alec’s neck, a reminiscent smile curling the edges of his lips. Magnus touches his temple with two fingers, and with a flash of magic, he plucks a memory from his mind.

He presents it to Alec.

“You looked beautiful, love,” Magnus says, threading his fingers against Alec’s. “So beautiful.”

Alec smudges something invisible on the surface of the photograph. He sees his younger self look up at him as if to ask, why are you so happy?

Just you wait, Alec thinks, you haven’t seen nothing yet.

Rafe and Max take the photo, looking at it with absolute wonder. Izzy’s hand finds her trembling mouth, and Clary holds Izzy’s hand soothingly. Magnus presses a kiss onto Alec’s lips.

“Love you,” Magnus says.

Fondly, Alec answers, “Love you too.”

*****

Alec, with his head thrown back in mid-laugh, is watching Magnus spin Izzy on the dancefloor when someone offers him a well-manicured hand.

“Care to dance, Consul Lightwood?”

Alec abruptly looks up, mildly surprised, until he realizes who he’s talking to. He rolls his eyes, ones that dance with mirth at the sight of an old friend.

Alec smirks. “Told you not to call me that, Professor Branwell.”

“Touché,” Lydia laughs. She motions her outstretched hand towards Alec again. “Well? Are you going to keep a lady waiting?”

“You don’t get to dip me, Branwell,” Alec jokes as he rises to his feet.

Lydia snorts. “Don’t worry, Lightwood,” she says, “I know you’re too old to bend your spine more than forty-five degrees.”

“Speaking from experience, I see,” Alec quips, which rewards him a teasing elbow in the side.

Alec moves them deeper into the dancefloor in a little a maneuver he learned from many nights in small, dimly-lit Cuban salsa clubs with Magnus and Izzy. Lydia is impressed as she steps into Alec’s arms with easy grace. With Alec’s hand on Lydia’s waist and hers on his shoulder, they sway to the music’s languid tempo.

“I heard you can add ‘professor’ to your long list of achievements,” Lydia teases, “Alicante’s Shadowhunter trainees just can’t seem to stop gushing over you.”

Alec schools the grin on his mouth. “Are they, now?”

“Oh, please,” Lydia accuses with a laugh, “You so like it!”

Alec chuckles, “It’s just a couple of guest lectures.” He leans in, whispering, “Admittedly, it is a bit of an ego boost.”

“Oh, it’s absolute confidence fuel,” Lydia agrees. She smiles up at Alec, looking at him like she can’t believe how much time has passed since their last meeting.

“How are you?” she asks, and coming from her, it’s a loaded question.

Alec and Lydia know each other in such a distinct, irreplicable manner, one that stems from their commonalities as people and their shared experiences. It’s a special understanding that even Magnus can’t duplicate, and that understanding steadily grew into friendship. Alec and Magnus were even guests at Lydia’s wedding to her recently late husband.

“I’m okay, Lyds. You?” Alec asks gently, “It’s been way too long.”

Lydia presses her lips together in a small, sad smile. “It has been,” she says, “I needed some time to be alone for a while. Far away.”

Alec’s hand squeezes comfortingly against Lydia’s. “Did you find some peace?”

“Found some in the English countryside,” Lydia chuckles, “Farm animals are oddly therapeutic.”

“That’s where you’ve been?” Alec asks in disbelief, “By the angel, I was asking them to check as far as Jaipur!”

Lydia laughs fully now. “You didn’t have to keep tabs on me, you loon.”

“Of course I had to,” Alec mumbles, “How can I not?”

Lydia places a hand to her heart, grinning. “Well, I’m touched. To think that this friendship started from our aborted wedding – who would’ve thought?”

The memory makes Alec cringe. “Oh, god,” he begs, “Please don’t remind me.”

Lydia giggles, “What, that you left me at the altar to make out with the love of your life?”

Alec groans. “Enough.”

“Not quite the right tone,” Lydia teases, “Less whiney, more commanding. Like you’re about to stick it to your parents.”

“You’re impossible,” Alec complains, and Lydia throws her head back in laughter. Magnus catches Alec’s eyes from across the dancefloor, exquisitely amused, and Alec rolls his eyes in fond resignation.

Lydia settles down to a grin. “Do you ever wonder where we would all be if Magnus didn’t storm into that chapel that night?”

The mere notion makes Alec think. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“By the angel, Alec,” Lydia says in disbelief, “Would you have actually married me?”

Alec raises a brow at her. “Would you?”

Lydia presses her lips together. “I don’t know. It all made sense in our heads back then. It seemed like a plausible idea.” She shakes her head. “That’s terrifying. To know that even the most rational thing could still be wrong.”

Alec smiles, his gaze mildly cautious. “Is that why you left politics for education?”

Lydia angles her head in thought. “That, and more.”

Alec doesn’t know what these other reasons are. Knowing Lydia, if she hasn’t told him yet, she never will.

His expertise of Lydia as a person came to him late. It took three years into his and Magnus’ marriage for her to be reintegrated back into their lives. The day Lydia handed in her resignation from her Council position to pursue a career in education was the day she became a steady fixture in his life. Alec regrets letting an exorbitant amount of time pass before they became friends.

“Was there something I could’ve done that would’ve made you stay?” Alec asks.

Lydia gazes at Alec as if she knows exactly what he means to ask. Did I not do enough as Consul? As a friend?

“Oh, Alec,” she says softly, “I would’ve left either way. Despite all the great work you've done and still do.”

Alec exhales. “It’s hard to feel that way nowadays,” he mutters, “Not with the Pearlhearts and their constituents blocking my every movement.”

“Screw the Pearlhearts,” Lydia says bluntly, and Alec laughs. “Do you even remember the things you’ve done the past fifteen years as Consul?”

Alec doesn’t. Everything has been a blur.

“Then let me remind you that you were handed a Shadow World that was burning when you took the office,” Lydia says, “Iterations of The Circle persisting everywhere you look, mutinies from the Europen vampire clans, power plays from the new Seelie Queen. You put out all these fires within three years of your leadership because unlike every other Consul that came before you, you were the first to have the Downworld’s trust. Trust that you built not as an afterthought, but as the cornerstone of your consulship. Your cabinet was used as the blueprint for fostering transparency between Institutes and the Downworld all over the world.”

“I can’t take credit for that,” Alec says, “I was only one piece on that intricate chessboard.”

“And the changes you instituted after?” Lydia asks, “You restructured the entire government system to focus on service, not control. You reformed the council to integrate Downworld representatives, and most importantly, you dismantled The Gard and its ancient doctrines that center on maximum brutality. ”

Alec shakes his head. “I had a lot of help, Lyds.”

“Still,” Lydia insists, “Someone had to start. Someone actually had to care enough to ask for help in the first place.”

Alec has forgotten how good of a speaker Lydia is. He would mourn the loss of such a great political comrade if he isn't so busy celebrating the achievement of having such an amazing educator within the walls of Shadowhunter Academies all over the world.

Lydia is somber when she speaks again. “The Clave will never outlive the evils of its past. But this work, from the big battles to the small, from the demons we slay to the signatures on report documents.. it’s change. Small, tedious, continuous change.” Lydia presses a warm hand against Alec’s cheek, just like she did at the altar when she gave him her blessing to go. “The one thing I do regret about leaving Clave politics is not being by your side as you changed it for the better.”

Alec smiles into Lydia’s palm. “Thank you, Lyds.”

“Anytime,” Lydia says, “I met Henry because of you, did you know?”

Alec raises a brow, curious. “Me?”

“By opening Idris to the Down World,” she says, a reminiscent smile on her lips, “He was on his way to applying to be a werewolf mission specialist when I bumped into him on my way back from handing in my resignation. Whatever amount of time we had with each other – our walks through Brocelind, our dates by Lake Lynn, our wedding in Alicante.. we owe it to you.”

“I’m glad that I helped,” Alec says.

Lydia looks up at Alec, her head shaking in wonder. “Where did you get the will to do all that, Alec?” she asks, “Who were you changing the whole world for?”

From afar, Alec hears an unmistakable laugh, one he knows the sound of as it echoes from across the room or rumbling sleepily against the shell of his ear.

Alec smiles.

*****

“Blue, no flying! Mijito, don’t you run away with your brother!”

Alec laughs as he watches Magnus run across the grass in pursuit of their two boys. Max, in his bat form, flaps away with his older brother giggling behind him in a chase that would have ended a long time ago if Magnus simply magicked on a pair of sneakers.

I don’t do active-wear, Alexander, Magnus had scoffed with an offended look on his face, Not in public.

So, Alec sits back on the picnic blanket, legs kicked out. He contentedly digests his afternoon snack under the same tree that he sat under as a child when he wants a moment to himself. The green hills that overlook the entirety of Alicante sprawl before him, the view only made better by his family running across it.

The memories that accompany this spot weren’t always happy.

He hated himself under this tree. He asked all the divinities in the universe if who he is – how he is – is wrong. He climbed onto the branches, clinging onto it for hours; he punished his muscles and tendons for the missed shots and longing thoughts. He remembers the many cliff-edges he’s had to talk himself off of because no one else would.

He remembers wondering for how long he could do this for.

From afar, Magnus throws his hands in the air in surrender. Max flaps circles around his head in jest while Rafe jogs circles around Magnus’ feet.

Magnus, with a great, heavy sigh, snaps his fingers. Sparkly runners replace his fancy dress shoes, and Alec finally tips over in unabashed laughter. Magnus notices this, and in an act of pure vengeance, sics their children onto Alec. Alec realizes the velocity of their approach too late.

Alec groans, clutching his stomach as Rafe tumbles into him, all sharp elbows. Max flaps his wings across Alec’s forehead, displacing his hair all over.

“I deserved that,” Alec breathes out as Magnus topples onto the spot beside him.

Magnus smirks. “Yes, you do.” He collapses onto the blanket, exhausted. “Your turn, darling. I’m going to nap.”

Alec laughs. “Fine.” He turns to their children. “Who wants to do cartwheels?”

Max plops onto Alec’s lap with a shrill meee, accompanied by Rafe’s monstrous shout. Alec scoops both in his arms and runs, leaving shrieks of happiness in their wake. Magnus’ laugh carries beautifully from where he is sprawled under Alec’s tree.

Another sad tree memory dispels in Alec’s mind.

*****

Alec opens presents.

Jace and Clary gift Alec with a quiver of special arrows, a set of ten crafted by the Iron Sisters themselves. Vessels within the arrowheads were made to hold Magnus’ magic within its core. It is common knowledge that every single weapon in the Consul’s personal arsenal is imbued with electric blues and golden yellows. Like urban legend, it is whispered among throngs of young Shadowhunters that seeing the Lightwood-Banes in battle is like watching a roiling thunderstorm – it’s a kind of devastation from which you cannot look away.

Izzy and Simon’s gift is a rare tome they tracked down in a small European town called Arnis. It dates back to the years of the first community Shadowhunters that took root in New York, and how it ended up in rural Germany, nobody truly knows. Alec leafs through some pages and already found references to their early ancestors. My, my, Adette, Magnus murmurs, his chin propped against Alec’s shoulder. Alec hums in agreement; Adette Lightwood’s a looker.

The remaining presents sit on a hill on Alec’s left, and he is left to apologize to his guests. He promises to open them all at home, joking that the New York Institute probably needs their space back. He is presented with one last gift to open, one that he doesn’t hesitate to take in his hands.

“Here, dad,” Rafe says, handing Alec a small envelope.

Max offers a disclaimer. “This is last minute,” he says, “We were gonna give you something dumb.”

Alec hooks a finger into the envelope and rips it open. Within it, he pulls out two photographs. Alec looks at both of them with wonder.

One is slightly hazy. It bears the image of a man looking down at the camera, and even with the blurriness of it, Alec could see the smile spreads across his face. The other photograph, clearer than the first, unmistakably bears Alec’s likeness. It looks like a picture taken from behind a wooden cart of some kind as if the photographer was peeking from a hiding spot. Alec is squinting under the brightness of the sun, donned in battle-wear with an arrow drawn. He stands side-by-side with Lily Chen, the current head of the New York Vampire Clan.

Alec looks up in realization. “This is Buenos Aires. And this..”

Max shrugs. “Mine’s a bit faint, but I was a baby. Now you have all three of ours.”

Rafe smiles, reminiscing. “It’s our first memories of you, Dad.”

Magnus looks at Max. “When did you learn how to do this, Blue?”

“What, like it’s hard?” Max grins, “Figured it out from when you did it earlier.”

“You okay, dad?” Rafe asks.

Alec brushes his fingers over his nose, sniffing. He blinks furiously down at his hands, ones that hold memories of himself through the eyes of his family. They feel heavier than paper, weighted with love and gratitude built over time. He feels Rafe’s hand on his back and Max’s chin on his shoulder.

“You changed our lives, Dad,” Max murmurs, “Thank you for that.”

Alec gingerly rises to his feet, pulling his sons into his arms. He reaches out for Magnus’ hand, gripping it tightly within his. Magnus thumbs the tears from Alec’s eyes. His touch lingers on the lines at its corners.

The photographs don’t leave Alec’s hands the entire night.

*****

“Don’t, Alexander,” Magnus commands through teary eyes and gritted teeth, “Don’t you dare.”

Alec stumbles, taken aback. He watches as Magnus strides away from him, his hands curled into fists. Alec follows suit with long loping steps across their living room.

“Magnus,” Alec calls out, confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Magnus turns to Alec, his gaze accusing. “You don’t want immortality. You never have, Alexander, so why are you asking for it now?”

“Despite popular belief, Magnus,” Alec grits out, his tone acidic, “People’s minds do change.”

Magnus scoffs. “And what a lovely coincidence that it changed right after Izzy chose to turn.”

Alec blinks in disbelief. “Why does it matter, why are you picking a fight?!” he asks, voice rising, “Do you think I’m lying? Is this what this is?”

Magnus spins on his heels, angrily busying himself with reshelving the open tomes that lay on his desk. “Typical Nephilim,” he mutters, “No insight, whatsoever.”

“Hey, if you’re itching for an argument, at least have the decency to at least look at me,” Alec demands, “Or at least tell me what the fuck I did wrong by telling you I want to spend an eternity with you!”

“You get to pick, Alexander!” Magnus shouts.

“How can you fault me for having a choice?” Alec yells, “You don’t want me forever, is that it? You’ll move on the moment I hit the ground?”

Pain twists Magnus’ face as he whispers hollowly, “How can you even say that?”

Alec shakes his head, lost. His hands falter to his sides. “Then what is it?” he asks, his words coming out of him in twisted sobs, “Why won’t you want me for more years than I can give?”

Magnus falls silent. He shakes his head too as he leans onto the bookshelf. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. Alec’s gaze is pleading when Magnus finally meets it.

“Two years ago, we got married,” Magnus mutters, “Do you know what I dream of since then?”

Alec shakes his head despite knowing the question doesn’t need an answer.

“I dream of us in five hundred years,” Magnus says. He wraps his arms around himself.

“We’re in Budapest, watching a particularly beautiful sunrise,” he murmurs, “Or in Paris, recreating our honeymoon. Or in Indonesia, by the beach, with everyone ogling you. I get to glare them all away.”

Alec closes his eyes momentarily. He almost smiles.

Magnus sounds broken when he speaks again. “But then I remember what that means. It means you’ve watched your family die. Everybody that is precious to you, you’ve outlived. You’ve buried your mother, your father, your siblings, your future children. You’re now burdened with sorrow your shoulders weren’t built to carry.”

Alec steadily cuts away the distance between him and Magnus. Rivulets roll down Magnus’ cheek as he stubbornly wipes them away.

Magnus sniffs and then exhales. “I know you love me very much, Alexander, but you don’t love me blindly,” he says, head shaking, “And I don’t want you to. I’ve made peace with my impending solitude a long time ago.”

“Magnus,” Alec reaches for him, but Magnus shakes his head again, openly weeping now. Magnus holds his hands out before him; he keeps Alec at bay like it’s his final line of defense.

“I’ve accepted it,” Magnus says shakily, “So please don’t tell me you want to be with me forever as if you’ve thought about it for a split-second, not when this thought has plagued me for hundreds of years –” Magnus’ breath hitches, “I can’t have false hopes, Alexander, please –”

Alec pulls Magnus into his arms and there, the earth finally collapses under them both. Magnus sobs unapologetically within the tight cradle of Alec's arms as Alec wipes the tears from his own face. Growing wetness seeps through the shoulder of his shirt. He presses his mouth against the side Magnus’ head, murmuring his quiet apologies and declarations of love. They hold onto each other like hands clasped in prayer.

Alec ushers them both to bed. Alec takes off Magnus’ shoes and socks, and Magnus, exhausted beyond measure, curls into Alec and closes his tired eyes. They shelve whatever they have to say to each other for the morning.

Alec wakes up to the sensation of bare feet against his.

“Sorry,” Magnus whispers, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” Alec mumbles. He yawns, blinking himself to full consciousness. When he settles, he asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Dismal,” Magnus admits, “I'm sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Alec mutters, brow furrowed so early in the morning, “I didn’t think of it that way. I hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Magnus says, fingers to Alec’s cheek, “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Alec exhales as he threads his fingers against Magnus. “I hate that you think that me being with you is an afterthought.”

Magnus’ smile is pained when he imparts it. His fingers tighten against Alec’s. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Alec shakes his head. “You will never be an afterthought,” he says, “You’re all I think about, Magnus. In my past, in this present, and in our future. You’re my stream of consciousness.”

“Sweet,” Magnus murmurs fondly.

Alec chuckles. “Unsurprisingly, I hope.”

Magnus presses into his husband, imparting a gentle kiss on his lips. Alec palms Magnus’ cheek softly.

When they falter apart, Alec says, “I still think some things are lightbulb moments.. But I promise to think about it.”

Magnus nods. “Okay.”

Alec’s thumb draws circles over Magnus’ knuckle.

“Okay.”

*****

Alec leans over the balcony of the New York Institute, fingers twined around his glass.

Below him is a meticulously kept courtyard with an aged oak standing proudly in its center. He sees Helen and Aline sitting in one of the stone benches, looking up at the tree’s encompassing foliage. Behind him, Magnus and Max are magically sweeping away the remnants of Alec’s fiftieth birthday party.

“Nightcap?” Izzy asks as she settles beside Alec.

Alec takes a gulp from his glass. “Just water,” he says with humor, “Some of us actually have to think about our livers.”

Izzy laughs. She spins on her heels, her back pressed against the stone railing. “I’m not gonna lie, I miss drinking actual alcohol.”

Alec cringes. “Is it the viscosity?”

“Yes,” Izzy gushes, “Plasma’s a party starter, but by the angel. It’s like chugging molasses.”

“God, I didn’t need to hear that,” Alec groans. He finishes off his glass of water.

Izzy smiles at Alec, peering into his eyes. She looks so young, Alec thinks. She still looks like the little sister he would sacrifice everything for.

“Did you have fun, Alec?” she asks, but he knows what she means. Are you happy?

“Yes. I thought it was going to be a lot harder,” Alec admits. Below them, Aline leans her head onto Helen’s shoulder. The gray of their hair shines under the moonlight.

“It’s because you’re brave, Alec,” Izzy says, “To choose this for yourself and for Magnus – it’s exceptionally brave.”

“I would argue it makes me a coward,” Alec answers matter-of-factly, straightening, “I’m not brave enough to watch everyone I love die.”

Izzy actually laughs. She shakes her head. “Alec, I chose immortality because I was scared.”

Alec watches as Izzy sighs, her head tipped back in thought. “I couldn’t bear the thought of growing old while Simon’s body stayed in stasis,” she mutters, “I think of the things I will miss, moments that I won’t get to experience with the person that I love – and it’s like I couldn’t breathe.”

She sighs. “We’re all differently but just as equally scared. And it really never goes away.”

Alec turns his glass within his palms. “Does Simon know this?” he asks.

Izzy nods. “Simon knows,” she says, “Mammoth things like immortality.. the only way to make it easier to bear is if you parse through it with brutal honesty.”

Izzy turns to Alec. With her fingers curled around his arms, she murmurs, “I know it brought you a lot of unspoken grief when I decided to turn, and not just because of the obvious reasons. It was supposed to be your thing, the immortality debacle.”

Alec shakes his head. “Look, Iz, I don’t get to monopolize problems –”

“No, Alec,” Izzy presses, her grip tightening, “You and Magnus were figuring it out. My hasty decision threw a wrench in the works, I know it. I’m so sorry.”

Alec’s mouth quirks at one corner. He squeezes Izzy’s hand affectionately. “Don’t be,” he says gently, “Magnus has five hundred years in his back pocket and I’m stubborn. Our experience with immortality was always going to be different.”

“You could’ve started early,” Izzy mourns, “You could’ve been younger.”

Alec looks down onto the courtyard again, smiling. “I don’t care about that anymore.”

Izzy has always had the special skill of knowing exactly what Alec means. She gazes at him, eyes soft.

“When did you know you wanted to turn for Simon?” Alec asks simply. Izzy’s gaze turns calculating, which he decides to dispel right away. “I’m just curious.”

Izzy presses her lips together in thought. “It just.. happened,” she says, “A lightbulb moment.”

Alec smiles.

“You don’t say.”

*****

“Be safe,” Magnus says, pressing kisses onto Max and Rafe’s cheeks, “Call frequently.”

Rafe pins Magnus against him in a brief embrace. “Will do.”

“Max, no more unnecessary magic,” Magnus warns, “If I get another call from the head of the Paris Institute –”

“Okay, okay, I promise,” Max sighs before blurting out, “Rafe went on an unsanctioned mission in Barcelona, by the way.”

Rafe scrambles to grab anything of Max, only to snatch a handful of air. “You little –”

Magnus’ jaw grows slack. “Raphael, you did what?”

“Go,” Alec urges with a laugh, snaking an arm around Magnus’ waist, “I got it.”

Max whips up a portal so fast Alec swears he feels a gust of wind sweep through the apartment. The gateway winks out of existence alongside their boys.

Magnus moans, fingers pressed against his temples. “Your children will be the death of me.”

“So they’re only mine when they mess up?” Alec smirks. He plants a kiss on Magnus’ cheek before pulling away. He pulls open a cabinet door and reaches for his pillbox before another bottle catches his attention.

Alec turns to Magnus, pill bottle in hand. “Did you plan birthday sex for me?” he bluntly asks, “Not that I’m demanding it, but if you are and you want my cock’s participation, I better take one of these now.”

Magnus chuckles. “Oh, I definitely planned birthday sex for you,” he drawls, “But you won’t be needing pharmaceutical help.”

Alec raises a brow. “You might want to adjust those expectations, Magnus. I just hit half a century, after all.”

Magnus’ cheeky grin is suddenly softened by hesitance, and for a moment, Alec worries. Alec places the bottle on the counter before taking a few tentative steps towards his husband.

“I’ve been working on this for the past year,” Magnus says, the pads of his fingers rubbing together just like it would in times of reluctance, “And last month, I finally figured out the right magic.”

Magnus fingers flutter in the air in an unsure gesture. “My gift is a memory,” he says, “One we can relive. It doesn’t meddle with time; it’s a projection of a recollection. Like a photograph pulled from my mind.”

Alec wonders why Magnus is so nervous about his gift; it sounds lovely.

“If you would have it,” Magnus hesitates, “You get to be young again for a night.”

Ah.

Alec gazes affectionately at Magnus as he stands before him, fiddling with his hands. It’s a fine line of a gift, Alec realizes, one that could clearly offend if given to the wrong person, in the wrong context. Alec could see how it could potentially hurt him.

But of course, it doesn’t. It’s Magnus, whose eyes see all of Alec and still chooses to gaze in earnest. He who knows every swollen knot in Alec’s body. The person who could hurt him most, but also love him best.

Alec dispels the distance between them. He reaches out, the pads of his fingers sinking into the well of Magnus’ palm.

With utmost affection, Alec says, “Show me.”

A relieved exhale leaves Magnus’ lips. With Alec’s hand in his, Magnus faces the empty expanse of their living room. He draws a circle in the air the same way he does when he creates portals, but instead of a golden swirl of magic, a tunnel of white light erupts before them. Magnus presses his fingers to his temples again, pulling another photograph from his mind. This one he throws into the brightness.

Magnus turns to Alec, his grip tightening. “Ready, darling?” he asks, but Alec knows he means are you sure?

“Lead the way,” Alec says, except he means with you, always.

They walk into the light.

*****

It’s glaringly bright, Alec thinks.

The light feels like mist to Alec’s touch, the coolness brushing over his skin. It wafts over his face as the brightness swells around him even more, making him squint. Magnus is nothing but a faint silhouette before him as he drowns in the light of the magic he has summoned.

And then, it starts at his fingertips.

The temperature suddenly shifts, comfortably warm like a thermostat perfectly tuned to Alec’s preference. The more steps Alec takes, the farther the warmth spreads; up to his arms, to his shoulder, until it kisses the line of his jaw. The brightness dulls too; his eyes regain the image of Magnus walking backward as he leads him out of the portal and into this small fragment of his mind. Alec tightens his grasp and finds hardened callouses on the spots where office work has softened them. Alec’s arthritic joints are quiet where they would usually creak.

Alec finally emerges, his feet sinking into carpeting that feels familiar against the soles of his bare feet. His toes curl into the wool fibers.

Alec looks up at Magnus, who looks the same, but somehow inexplicably young. Behind him, Magnus is backdropped by golden sheets. Alec couldn’t help but toy at the necklaces that hang from Magnus’ neck in layers.

“Hi,” Magnus whispers.

When Alec speaks, his voice is strong. He gently tugs Magnus closer by the chain of his jewelry. “Hi,” he whispers back, “How do I look?”

“Like you haven’t aged a day,” Magnus jokes.

Alec chuckles, as if to say, funny. He turns to where he knows Magnus’ mirror stands, unsurprised by the young man that meets him. Instead, he beholds the image with affection. As much as he misses this Alec, he doesn’t envy him. This Alec has yet to experience the kinds of happiness he doesn’t even know he gets to have.

“Forgot I had these,” Alec mutters, looking down at himself as he smooths a hand over his abdomen. He peeks into his shirt and then laughs. “Magnus, your favorite part of my body’s back for a one-night encore.”

Magnus laughs too. He pulls Alec by the buckle of his belt. “Then we best not keep the audience waiting.”

With the gentle press of Magnus’ lips on his, Alec’s laugh settles to a small smile. Alec tries to lift his shirt from his body, but Magnus gently knocks Alec’s hands away as if to say that’s for me to do. Alec’s chuckle huffs out of his nose; two can play this game. He peels off Magnus’ pesky jacket, unearthing a black, form-fitting sweater that Alec still thinks about to this day.

Just like before, Alec still fumbles horribly with his pants, and Magnus still tries to catch his lips as he does. Magnus still laughs, and Alec still swallows the laughter from Magnus’ mouth with a kiss that shifts the earth under their feet.

Magnus puts them both to bed, nearly gymnastic, the way he does it. That was graceful.

Alec pulls the shirt of Magnus’ back, refusing to break their kiss until absolutely necessary. Shadowhunter.

Magnus draws away momentarily as he casts his shirt onto the floor. He gently rakes through the thick smattering of hair across Alec’s chest, now black instead of gray. Magnus’ touch lingers, and so does Alec’s thoughts.

Alec’s chest rises to meet Magnus’ mouth as he plants a kiss at the valley of Alec’s chest. Magnus thumbs a nipple before taking it gently between his teeth.

“Magnus,” Alec sighs.

Alec’s body sinks into the mattress as Magnus lavishes over the puckered bud. Alec cups Magnus’ neck, holding him in place, and there Magnus gladly stays. This was once Alec’s favorite things in bed, something time changed in the most unusual ways. Once-dull nerve endings muted by age jolts back to life with every nip of Magnus’ teeth and swirl of his tongue. Alec savors every bolt of warm electricity that crackles down his spine as if it’s something he won’t get to have tomorrow.

Magnus presses a final kiss on Alec’s chest before making his way down Alec’s body. He palms Alec’s cock through his unzipped trousers; he noses the shaft, outlining its shape.

Alec whispers, “Suck me off, Magnus. Please.”

“Of course, love,” Magnus says, hands working to release Alec’s cock from his underwear, “Anything you want. Everything.”

Alec’s hardness stands tall and proud with ease, hefty against Magnus’ palm. Magnus kisses Alec once at the base before dragging his lips up the shaft. Alec plays with the short buzz of hair in Magnus’ neck, entranced by the texture, and his grip tightens when Magnus mouths along the crown and finally engulfs Alec whole.

Alec swears the ceiling flushes pink. “Fuck, Magnus..”

Magnus relishes in coaxing every helpless moan and hitched whimper out of Alec’s lips. Every flick of the tongue, gulp of the throat, hollowing of the cheeks - Magnus sucks Alec’s cock in the ways he likes the most, gleaned from years and years of learning Alec down to his very bones. All Alec could do is watch through pleasure-hazed eyes and thick lashes as Magnus tells him, in yet another way, how much he is thoroughly known.

How much he is thoroughly loved.

Alec caresses Magnus’ cheek, thumb pressing onto the corner of Magnus’ stretched mouth. “You’re everything to me,” Alec whispers, rolling his hips gently as if to seek permission. Magnus thrums around Alec as he moans his enthusiastic yes.

Alec fucks into Magnus’ mouth ardently, his young body arching off the bed and into the warm tightness that is provided to him. This ageless body he wears feels old but new at the same time; it feels every undulation of Magnus’ tongue against his shaft, responds vigorously to Magnus’ every touch. Alec feels so absolutely himself but, at the same time, inexplicably not. Magnus reaches back and sinks lube-slicked fingers into his own ass, and seeing Magnus spread himself open before him with unfettered pleasure surprisingly moves Alec’s heart.

With a final roll of the hip, Alec gasps, planting both his palms against Magnus’ jaw. He quietly urges Magnus off him before he fully topples off the edge. Magnus crawls the length of Alec’s body, only stopping when Alec is within kissing distance again. With the press of Magnus’ tongue against his, Alec suddenly finds a profound ache blooming in his chest, beautiful but wistful. Dazed.

“Do you prefer me like this?” Alec murmurs, “Young?”

He asks the question with no malice. Nothing but a simple curiosity, and after twenty years of marriage, Magnus doesn’t misconstrue.

Magnus kisses the corner of Alec’s mouth. Straddling Alec’s hips, he answers, “I simply prefer you.”

Alec chuckles. “Sweet.”

The lopsided smile that grows on Alec’s mouth is short-lived as it is soon replaced by another shuddering exhale. Magnus palms Alec’s cock, thumbing the slit.

“You forget how utterly enraptured I am of you, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, “Did you think that enchantment would simply go away with time?”

Alec’s breath hitches on his throat as he feels his cockhead kiss Magnus’ puckered ring. “Yes,” he admits.

Magnus caresses Alec’s cheek. “Oh, darling,” he says, his smile forlorn, “You’ve never been more wrong.” With that, he sinks down onto Alec’s cock.

“Gods,” Alec hisses as Magnus shudders a breathy moan as he inches himself down Alec’s length. Alec palms Magnus’ ass, kneading the firm muscle underneath.

“Darling, you feel divine,” Magnus gasps. He bottoms out, ass cheeks nestled into the nest of Alec’s pubic hair.

Alec scrambles for Magnus’ face, kissing him deeply. Magnus holds onto Alec’s wrists as he rocks forward, his hips curling commas in the air as he sets a steady pace for them both. Magnus fucks himself onto Alec’s cock with vigor that mirrors the adamancy of his words, every high whine and deep-seated groan presenting Alec with the eloquence Magnus, at the moment, does not have.

“God you feel so good,” Alec groans, fucking up into Magnus who rides him with equal urgency.

“Just like that, darling,” Magnus whimpers, eyes screwed shut as he presses their foreheads together, “Oh, angel, how I love you.. do you know that?”

I do, Alec thinks through the haze of his pleasure.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers desperately, “I was so unbearably lonely.”

Alec’s gaze blurs.

Magnus cradles Alec’s head, fingers curled tightly into his hair. “And I am unfathomably changed because of you.”

Alec breathlessly sits up, culling Magnus tightly within his arms as he ruts deeper and deeper. Their once steady rhythm becomes more volatile, their orgasms mercurial within their cores as it spits and bubbles like a mixture about to explode. The bed squeaks and groans under them.

Magnus’s body tightens against Alec’s as he throatily begs, “Oh, darling, don’t stop –”

Alec buries his face against the crook of Magnus’ neck, and if he embraces Magnus any tighter he might disappear within his grasp.

“Right there, right there, please – ”

They come together, Magnus untouched and gasping, Alec in a dizzying, blinding mixture of white-hot pleasure and unbridled happiness. His orgasm flushes through every winding vein, his muscles clenching and unclenching in an attempt to wring every droplet of pleasure out of his body. Magnus shudders around him in boneless satiation, thighs shaking around Alec’s hips. They breathe for what it feels like a long time. When Alec finally blinks up from Magnus’ neck, he is teary-eyed and breathless.

“I love you, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, breathless with affection, and he says it again just because. “I love you.”

Alec thumbs Magnus’ cheek.

“I love you too, Magnus,” he musters through the ache of his throat, “More than you could ever know.”

Magnus presses their foreheads together. “I know, darling,” he murmurs, “Don’t worry. I know.”

Alec doesn’t say anything as he buries Magnus into the mattress, fisting Magnus’ half-hard cock in his hand. Alec presses a sinking kiss into Magnus’ mouth, one that is telling of the things left unsaid.

They don’t leave the memory until the morning.

*****

When Alec wakes up, Magnus is gazing at him, fingers combing through his scalp.

Alec shifts in bed, and when he does, his bones ache. His hand joins Magnus’ and finds grainy and fragile hair between the pads of his fingers. His skin wrinkles, and his body sags. The lines of his eyes are the most pronounced it’s ever been.

Despite all of it, Magnus still looks at him. Magnus, whose eyes see all of Alec and still chooses to gaze in earnest.

“There you are,” Magnus murmurs, full of affection.

Alec’s mouth quirks into a smile. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and holds Magnus’ wandering hand within his. Alec’s thumb draws circles over Magnus’ knuckle.

“There you are.”

*****

Epilogue

“Do you need the machine?”

Magnus reaches into his coat pocket and magics some bills between his fingers. “No, thank you,” he answers in his well-practiced French, “Keep the change.”

The café owner, usually a touch ornery, takes the bill from the counter with a thoroughly impressed expression on his face. “Much appreciated. ”

“Can I sit here for a moment? ” Magnus asks, motioning to the empty patio chairs.

The man waves a dismissive hand in the air. “With the tip you gave me, you can do whatever you want.”

It makes Magnus laugh. He places his paper bag of fresh croissants and a cup of to-go cappuccino onto the table before gracefully depositing himself onto an empty chair. The nearby chapel rings its early morning call for its parishioners, and Magnus watches people ascend the steps to its gigantic, arched doors.

Early morning Paris is quiet, and early morning Paris in a café tucked away from its busier streets is quieter. After his three-hundredth-fifty-sixth visit to the French capital, Magnus has chosen to forgo his home away from home; usually, a penthouse overlooking an essential Parisian monument. This time, he ventures deeper into a small residential area a handful of metro stops away from the city center. When he looks out of his balcony, he sees his temporary neighbors: a chain-smoking woman in her forties and a college student whose head is consistently buried into a three-inch-thick textbook. He hasn’t waved at them in greeting; he knows better than to engage.

It’s been five hundred years.

Magnus is still quietly floored as to how little has changed in the world. New York still has the best pizza, Paris is still somewhat pretentious. Magnus still wears a goatee, and he still loves his martinis dearly.

Magnus doesn’t deign try to recount the many ways his life has arched in highs and lows, coiling within itself in the five centuries that had passed. He is no longer the High Warlock of anything; only surfacing when his help is direly needed. His brownstone in Brooklyn and home in Alicante is resided by strangers now. He has diminished his treasured things into a small ornate box, and the rest of his possessions are tucked away in a pocket of the twelfth dimension.

He has welcomed people in his arms just as much as he has buried his friends and family into the ground. He eats croissants and drinks coffee. He remembers the people he loved – still loves.

He breathes in and out, the air heavy in his lungs as he does. The sun filters through the shelled border of Le Pavillon’s awning and onto the back of his hand, warm and temperate.

Sometimes, Magnus wonders for how long he could do this.

A touch alights onto his shoulder, squeezing gently.

Magnus, just as he has for the past five hundred years, despite the tragic losses and unfathomable despair, smiles. He threads his fingers through arthritic hands of which he knows every painful swell. He looks back and sees eyes that see all, but still gazes in earnest.

“There you are,” Alec says.

And Magnus, just as he has for the past five hundred years, answers.

“There you are.”

[mikisworls]

AN: this is my first time writing a fan fiction so bare with me.I hope you enjoy

warnings: much angst, Sexual Assault, attempted suicide

Listen Before I go By Billie Eilish 🥲

pairing: Harry Styles X !FEM!reader 

Harry has been on tour for months, five months to be more specific. a lot can change in that amount of time, trust especially.

“I've missed you my angel,” Harry said from the doorway, bags dropped to his feet as he walked over to you to hold you in his arms.

You flinched away from his touch. He backs away, understanding the shake in your hands. you don’t want to be held.

Did he do something wrong? what happened in those five months that would have made you flinch away from him? Was it his fault? The answer was no, it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know. You never told him, how was he supposed to know.

He could see on your face something was off. a few seconds maybe 20 had passed before either of you spoke again. “What’s wrong, What happened?” your eyes start to water, you two have been together for two years but have known each other since sophomore year of high school.

He told you everything, from what bothered him that day or what made him so overwhelmed with joy it didn’t matter he always told you about it, but you were more closed off than him. Sure you told him about your day and he already knew everything about you, that’s what he thought at least.

“It's nothing, really i just missed you and didn’t expect you to be home.” that wasn’t it and he knew it. He’s too good at reading you. “That’s not it and we both know that, what is it lovie.”

The truth was, he called you. the guy who ruined your life. Made you feel like you didn’t deserve love. the man who fucked you up so bad you could hardly live. not safely at least.

“Jace called me.” you mumbled under your breath, it was barely audible but he heard you. “Jace as in your Ex? What did he want.” “He just called to mess with me.”

Technically that was the truth, just not all of it. “There’s more, isn’t there. you can tell me.” god you don’t deserve harry, he’s too good for you.

“There's some things I haven't told you, but I think I'm ready.” you look him in the eyes and pull him to the couch. “Now before i say this i don’t want you to get upset, it was a long time ago. Jace wasn’t only an Ex, he did things to me, not exactly good things.”

you had to stop for a few seconds to catch your breath, you were crying? When did you start crying? when will you stop. “It's okay lovie take your time.” harry said as he put a hand on your back, instead of flinching away you melted into his touch, it calmed you. “ He, uh he would make me do things. things you wouldn’t even believe.”

To say Harry was angry would be the understatement of the century. He was shaking, his face was beet red. You could tell he was trying to stay calm for your sake but it wasn’t working.

This time you leaned into him asking to be held. That's how you stayed for the rest of the night, tangled with him. Assuming you feel asleep and he carried you to your room.

When you woke up the bed was empty. Was it a dream? you heard the sink running in the bathroom, harry was brushing his teeth. He’s home, “some welcome home present” you thought to yourself. Telling your overprotective boyfriend about the guy who raped you the day he gets home. Not even a welcome home.

“good morning angel, I have a few meetings today just to wrap up tour stuff. I should be home around 3:00pm then we can do whatever you want to do.” it’s 9:00am now. “alright do you want breakfast?” “No thank you i’m already late, but thank you. i’m leaving in a few and have some stuff to do downstairs but i love you and i’ll see you tonight, call me if you need anything.” “love you too, have a good day.”

you're such an asshole. He just got home and the first thing you do is make him feel like he did something wrong. He was gone for five months and not even an I love you. god your pathetic. Why is he still with you. He doesn’t deserve to be treated with such disrespect, especially from you. “I agree, he doesn’t” your thoughts get the best of you and you spend at least an hour just sitting on the shower floor, just thinking, contemplating.

That’s it, you get up from the shower floor turn off the water and cry off. Your wearing one of his hoodies and som shorts. the pen in your hand is shaking more than you are. you write nonetheless.

Harry, my sweet harry. my love for you is larger than life. i don’t want you to think this was your fault, it’s not. if anything you prevented this from happening a long time ago. but my time is up, god i hope you aren’t the one to find me. i’m so sorry i had to do this to you. I'm sorry I had to hold you back all this time. i hope now that i’m gone you won’t have anything stopping you from greatness, more greatness than you already have. I love you. but i can’t keep living this life. it hurts. more than you'll ever know. I don't want you to stop living because of me. i won’t ask much of you for now but can you take care of Rajah? She needs to be fed while I'm gone. take care of yourself. don’t let me be the reason we meet again. but hey when it is your time in 50 years i’ll tell you if there’s a heaven like i’ve always wanted to know. but please know, this isn’t your fault, it’s mine really. goodbye my love

il mio amore per te va di mondo in mondo, ti amo più della vita.

-Y/N

and with that it was done, you grabbed your bottle of prozac in your shaking hands and that was it.

HARRY’S POV

I forgot to tell Y/N I was coming home for lunch but consider it a little surprise. “Y/N, darling i’m home for lunch, what do you have in mind?” when he got no reply he began to worry. He walked the halls searching for his love. when he walked into your shared room he saw you… laying there. limp.

the color drained from his face as he sprinted to you collapsing on top of you. He frantically shook you, trying desperately to get any sort of response, all he got was a low grunt. He looked at your hand, pills. He pulled up his phone and dialed 911 as fast as his mind allowed “911 what’s your emergency?” she sounds too cheerful for this situation “please it’s my girlfriend i just got home and she was on the floor barely responding, i think she tried to kill herself!” “does she have a pulse? what’s the address?” “she has a pulse but it’s weak, the address is 1794 on 64th ave. hurry” the line went silent on the other end for a few seconds “alright sir we have the address someone will be there as soon as 2 minutes” “she doesn’t have 2 minutes, hurry please.”

When the paramedics arrived your pulse was barely there, low and shallow breaths in your lungs. Harry was in the ambulance as they put your IV in and out you in oxygen. after they got to the hospital he wasn’t allowed in the room until they were sure you were ready for visits. a nurse had been giving him updates her name was sarah. Sarah told him to go home, shower grab some clothes, it took time but he did. That’s when he saw the note. He broke. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. “il mio amore per te va di mondo in mondo, ti amo più della vita.” he thought of you when you two went to italy for your anniversary, you remembered. it means “my love for you goes from world to world, I love you more than life.”

when he got back to the hospital Sarah said you were better, still haven’t woken up yet but your healing nonetheless. They called your mother and she said he could be put on the emergency list so he could be with you when you wake up. That's exactly what he did, he sat there right beside you for a week until you woke up.

Y/N POV

It was bright, too bright for your eyes. You turned over but when you felt someone touching your hand you saw harry. He’s asleep, how long has it been, he thinks you're pathetic. He doesn’t, he’s been crying, his cheeks are red and tear stained. He’s waking up. “Hey lovie, are you alright? How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” he seemed genuinely concerned, it was hard to answer but you managed to get a few words out “I’m fine right now, where am I?” he looked at you in a way that asked you if you were being serious, you were. “Where at the hospital, you took a bunch of pills but I got to you in time.”

“Hey Y/N, my name is Sarah, i’m your nurse, how are you feeling hun?” “i feel fine, a little drowsy.” i couldn’t really tell you what happened after that, everything’s a bit fuzzy but she kept asking questions. Harry’s eyes never left me.

~time skip to when they get home because it’s late and i need to sleep~

Harry’s hand was on my knee the whole ride home like he was afraid I would evaporate if he let go. When we pulled into the driveway he opened the door for me and offered me a hand, I took it and thanked him. He hasn’t really asked as many questions as I thought he would.

When we got inside he dropped our bags by the door, went to the kitchen and grabbed some water. He walked back into the living room where you were sitting, he sat the glass of water on the table next to you.

He sat on the couch beside you, you basically threw yourself onto him has tears gushed down your face staining his dark blue t-shirt, he wrapped his arms around you and held you as you spewed out apology’s one after another “I’m so sorry, i’m so selfish, you shouldn’t have to deal with shit like this.” he cut you off before you could say anything else with a soft kiss. It has been so long since you two have just kissed.

he leaned back so you could lay on top of him. you fell asleep to harry whispering “i love you” over and over in your ear.

when you woke up harry was playing with your hair, once you woke up a bit more you spoke up. He deserves an explanation “Harry, you deserve an explanation. It was never your fault, just with jace calling me and the things he said-``''what did he say?” “uh he uh told me to w-watch myself and that no one not even you, who he called some other fuck up, can protect me from him. i was scared and confused and i didn’t know how to handle it but the things he did to me fucked me up and i don’t want that again.” “ it’s alright baby really i’m not mad, he can’t hurt you anymore, i’m here. that bastard will be in a grave before he lays another hand on you”

An: tell me how you liked it, might fuck around and make a part two idk yet but im going to bed i love you

[rhosyn-du]

Title: A Wonderful Institution Artist: @bidnezz​​ Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, various background pairings Word Count: ~53k Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, discrimination against Downworlders, reference to rape, Clave-typical homophobia, implied character death, minor character death Summary: Magnus doesn’t have time for this bullshit. Warlocks are disappearing in New York City—five people in less than three months—and Magnus is determined to find them and protect the rest of his people from whatever took them. He doesn’t have time for politics, and he certainly doesn’t have time for whatever nonsense the Clave is proposing about marrying a Shadowhunter to a Downworlder as part of the new Accords. He doesn’t really have time for a pretty Shadowhunter who’s surprisingly kind to warlock children, either, but, well, he’s always been good at multitasking.

Alec always knew he couldn’t have what he wanted, but he’s spent the nearly four years since the newly-appointed Consul recalled his parents to Idris without explanation making the best of what he can have. When life suddenly offers up almost everything Alec actually wants on a silver platter, he can’t quite bring himself to trust it, especially when it comes with a million caveats and a side of impending disaster. But he knows how to handle disasters, even if the return of the Circle on top of Clave secrets that could destroy the Accords is way beyond the disasters he’s used to fielding. Hope, on the other hand? He doesn’t know what to do with that.

This fic was created for the @malecdiscordserver​​ Mini Bang 2020.

Chapter Two

There were too many Shadowhunters in Magnus’s loft. It had probably been a mistake to invite Alec in the first place, but Magnus had let his judgment be swayed by a pretty face and a frightened child, and now he was stuck with the man’s sister and parabatai, too.

Magnus thought that perhaps, had they met under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed Isabelle’s company. Jace, on the other hand, managed to perfectly embody the condescending arrogance that so annoyed Magnus about Shadowhunters.

“Help him up into a sitting position,” Magnus instructed. “It will help the potion go down easier.” He spared a reassuring smile for Madzie, who sat curled up in a chair with Mr. Flopsy, watching the proceedings with worried eyes that nonetheless kept blinking toward sleep.

Isabelle and Jace did as instructed, maneuvering an unconscious Alec from his sprawl across Magnus’s couch into something that resembled an upright position.

Magnus leaned over Alec’s head, where it lolled against the back of the couch, hand resting against Alec’s cheek to hold him steady.

“Alexander,” he said softly. “if you can hear me, I need you to swallow the potion I’m going to give you.”

There was no response. Magnus hadn’t really expected one, but thought it was worth saying in case some part of Alec’s unconscious mind heard him.

Slowly, Magnus poured the potion into Alec’s open mouth, stroking a hand down Alec’s neck to encourage swallowing. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the movement of Alec’s throat beneath his fingers.

“He should be awake in a few minutes,” Magnus said.

“Thank you,” Isabelle said with an air of genuine gratitude that Magnus had rarely heard from a Shadowhunter.

“It was no problem, my dear,” Magnus said, and was surprised to realize he meant it.

As soon as Alec woke, the Shadowhunters would be out of his hair, and he could deal with every other disaster the evening had presented him with. Like the mundane woman and infant warlock currently asleep in his guest room, under Catarina’s watchful eye.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, Catarina stepped out of the guest room, closing the door softly behind her. She motioned to Magnus, who joined her in the corner of the room. As he’d suspected would happen, Madzie had fallen asleep in her chair.

“The mundane is under a whole tangle of memory spells,” Catarina said quietly. “Too many for me to untangle in one evening, and honestly, after hearing the little she did remember, I don’t know if it would be good for her to remember the rest of it.”

“That bad?” Magnus asked, frowning.

“I can’t be entirely sure, but I think…” Catarina let out a tired breath. “I think Iris has been luring or kidnapping mundane women and forcing them to bear warlock children.”

Magnus took a deep breath to rein in the fury that suddenly flared through him. Deal with the practicalities first.

“Does she remember if there were other mundane women living at the house?”

Catarina shook her head. “One of the few things Leigh is very clear on is that she and Iris were the only ones caring for the children. And she remembers that she’s Noah’s mother, although thankfully for her sanity, she doesn’t remember anything about how she came to be pregnant.”

“Lucky for her, certainly,” Magnus said, “but that leaves us not knowing where Iris was getting the demons.”

“Actually,” Catarina said, “she also mentioned something about the basement of the house being dangerous. It could be nothing, but…”

“But it could be that Iris was keeping a captive demon in the basement for her disgusting breeding program,” Magnus finished for her.

“We can go check it out after your guests leave and we get Madzie into an actual bed,” Catarina offered.

“I have a better idea,” Magnus said, glancing over his shoulder to where Jace and Isabelle were conferring quietly on the couch beside a still-unconscious Alec. “Shadowhunter!”

“Warlock,” Jace responded, sounding bored, but he and Isabelle rose to join Magnus and Catarina.

Magnus rolled his eyes. “I have reason to believe a missing warlock might have been keeping one or more demons captive in her basement. I thought perhaps you might want to look into it, since dealing with demons is kind of your whole,” he waved a hand, “Shadowhunter thing.”

Jace and Isabelle exchanged a quick look, then Isabelle said, “We will look into it. If you give me the address, I’ll make sure someone checks it out.”

“While you’re at it,” Alec muttered from the couch, eyes blinking open, “could you look into being a little less loud?”

Isabelle was the first to reach his side, with Jace close behind. Magnus took his time joining them.

“You had us worried for a minute there, big brother,” Isabelle said.

“How are you feeling?” Jace asked, and the concern was so evident in his tone that Magnus could almost forgive him for being such a complete pain in his ass. Almost.

“Headache,” Alec answered. “No serious damage except maybe my pride. Did I really get taken down by a Ravener demon?”

“You did,” Magnus answered, “but given that there were at least two dozen of them, I think your pride will recover.”

Alec looked up at him then, and Magnus was caught once again in those startling hazel eyes. He wondered how it was possible for a man he’d only just met to have such an effect on him.

“Thank you,” Alec said. “For healing me. You didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense,” Magnus said. “If I’d been faster, you might not have been hurt in the first place. Although,” he added with a flirtatious smile, “if you really wanted to thank me, you could buy me a drink sometime.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Magnus saw Isabelle cover a smile with her hand and decided that, yes, she could also have an exemption to his one Shadowhunter in the loft is too many rule.

“Uh,” Alec said, looking bemused, “you can bill the Institute for your time. How long was I out?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Jace told him.

“And the demons?”

“All of the trails converged on the alley where we found you,” Isabelle said. “We got there just in time for your dramatic collapse,” she added, grinning.

Alec winced. “Ouch. Wounded pride, remember?”

“I suspect the demons were tracking Madzie,” Magnus said. “I followed their trail from the house where she was staying with several other warlocks. It’s not the first attack of this kind I’ve seen in recent months, although it is the largest.”

“This got something to do with the missing warlock you mentioned?” Alec wanted to know.

Magnus nodded. “One of several, I’m afraid.” Although he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel too bad that Iris had been taken, not if Catarina’s suspicions proved true.

“And this has been going on for months.” It wasn’t a question. Alec looked at Jace. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

“It’s the first I’ve heard of it too,” Jace answered, shaking his head.

“We haven’t exactly been advertising the disappearances,” Magnus said. “And to be honest, I don’t think anyone expected Shadowhunters to care about a few missing warlocks.”

“Well, I do,” Alec said, annoyance clear in his voice. “We do.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “We should get back to the Institute,” he said, standing. “Thank you, again. For healing me, and for having my back.”

“It was my pleasure, Alexander,” Magnus answered. “It is, tragically, not every day I have handsome men swooning in my arms.”

Magnus thought he caught the tiniest hint of a smile as Alec rose from the couch.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything about those missing warlocks,” Alec promised.

“Please contact me if you do,” Magnus told him. “Or if there’s anything else you think we might be able to help each other out with.”

Magnus saw the Shadowhunters out, then returned to the living room, where Catarina was watching him with amusement.

“Oh, he’s too pretty not to flirt with and you know it,” Magnus told her.

“I said nothing,” she said, shaking her head but still smiling.

Magnus flopped theatrically onto his finally empty couch and closed his eyes. He thought perhaps one was the right number of Shadowhunters to have in his loft, so long as it was the right one.

Alec managed to get a full five hours of sleep before a pounding on his door woke him. He’d meant to go straight to bed when they’d returned to the Institute, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and instead he’d spent nearly an hour reading everything in the Clave database about Magnus Bane, and then another two lying awake in the dark, trying to reconcile any of it with the man who’d fought at his side and saved him from demon venom. Who’d caught him when he fell.

Before Alec could shake the cobwebs of dream and the vague impression of kohl-rimmed eyes from his mind and answer, his sister was opening the door and barging right in.

“Come right in, Iz,” Alec muttered into his pillow.

“Sorry, hermano,” Izzy said, perching on the side of his bed, “but I thought you’d want to know that Mom’s here.”

That woke him right up.

“Did she say why she’s here?”

Izzy shook her head. “Just that she wanted to see you when you were up. She said she’d be in her office.”

Her office. Of course. Never mind that his parents had been in Idris for most of the past four years, or that neither of them had even set foot in the New York Institute in over six months, they were still technically Heads of the Institute. Alec just hoped she didn’t move anything important on his desk. Her desk. Fuck.

Alec tried not to be bitter about it, he really did, but some days it was harder than others, and today was apparently one of those days.

“Thanks for letting me know. Can you tell her I’ll be there in twenty minutes?”

“Can do, big brother.” She leaned in to give him a hug. “I’ll be training if you need a sparring partner to blow off some steam with after.”

It took exactly ten seconds in his mother’s presence for Alec to know he would most definitely want to hit things after this meeting. There was a brittle edge to her perfunctory smile that managed to convey all of the same disappointment evident in her recent letters while not quite hiding a bone-deep exhaustion. Not for the first time, Alec wondered what exactly his parents were doing in Idris.

“Mother,” Alec said, stepping into the office and falling instinctively into parade rest. “This is unexpected. If I’d known you were coming, I would have been awake to welcome you.”

“It was a last-minute decision,” Maryse answered. “I finished what I was working on earlier than expected, and Consul Penhallow suggested I come and ensure everything is set for next week’s negotiations.”

It made sense that the Clave would send someone to oversee preparations for the final round of negotiations over the revised Accords, since those negotiations were to be held at the New York Institute. It even made sense that the Clave would send Maryse, as one of the official Heads of Institute. But Alec couldn’t quite shake the suspicion that his mother was here for more personal reasons.

“I’m sure you’ll find everything in order,” Alec said. “Will Father be joining you?”

Maryse’s answering smile was tight. “Your father will be here in time for the negotiations. He still has some things to take care of in Idris.”

Her smile sharpened, and Alec knew he’d been right about why she was here.

“Besides,” she continued, “I thought you and I could take this opportunity to discuss your future, just the two of us.”

Alec shook his head, suddenly feeling as though he’d gotten no sleep at all. “There’s nothing to discuss. I volunteered, the Council chose me, end of discussion.”

“There’s still time to change your mind,” Maryse said with a carefully controlled calm. “The negotiations aren’t until next week. The Council will choose someone else, and the Downworlders will never know the difference. If you’d bothered to consult me about this in the first place, or even your father—”

“I consulted with Consul Penhallow,” Alec interrupted.

“Jia Penhallow doesn’t give a damn about what your decision means for this family,” Maryse snapped. “Or what it means for you.”

Alec looked away, choosing his words carefully. “What it means for this family is that the revised Accords—the ones that you support— will be signed, and they won’t be put in jeopardy by someone who resents marrying a Downworlder for political reasons. When the Clave first announced this marriage was going to be a part of the revised Accords, you and Dad are the ones who convinced me it was necessary. I’m doing what I can to make sure it goes smoothly.

“Besides,” he continued, finally meeting his mother’s eyes again, “you’re the one who suggested I start looking for a wife.”

“I meant you should find a Shadowhunter wife, Alec!” Maryse said, throwing up her hands. “Yes, the revised Accords are important, and yes, someone needs to do this, but that person doesn’t have to be you.”

Alec regarded his mother for a long moment. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked finally. “The Council thinks I’m the right person to do this, and so do I. If you have a reason for disagreeing that goes beyond distaste over the idea of your son marrying a Downworlder, then tell me what it is.”

For just an instant, Maryse seemed to hang on the precipice of speaking, but then her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. “I’m doing what’s best for our family, Alec.”

Alec knew his mother well enough to know that there was no point in asking again.

“So am I,” he said instead. “Is there anything else? I told Izzy I’d train with her this morning.”

Maryse shook her head. “We can discuss preparations for the negotiations when you’re feeling less recalcitrant.”

He found Izzy in the training room, practicing forms with a staff, right where she’d promised to be.

“That bad?” she asked, grabbing a second staff from the rack on the wall and tossing it to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nope,” he told her, feinting high, then moving to sweep her left leg.

Izzy danced out of the way, laughing. “Come on, Alec. If you’re not going to keep me up to date on family gossip, at least give me a decent fight.”

She moved toward him, throwing out three jabs in quick succession, all of which he blocked.

“Now who’s not giving a decent fight?” he taunted. “I was getting a better workout arguing with Mom.”

“You’re still recovering from last night,” she said, rolling the staff lazily across her shoulders as they circled each other. “I wouldn’t want to further damage your ego.”

“Cute,” Alec said before launching another attack, this time at Izzy’s midsection, which she blocked and rolled into her own attack.

They kept on like that for several minutes, attack and parry, back and forth, neither managing to land a blow. It was exactly what Alec needed to ease the frustration of his earlier meeting.

“Speaking of last night,” Izzy said just as Alec felt the last of the frustrated tension loose from his shoulders, “have you heard from Magnus?”

Alec felt a tiny frisson of…something deep in his belly at mention of the warlock. It distracted him enough that he didn’t quite block Izzy’s next attack, and his shoulder caught a glancing blow. It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as Izzy’s smug grin.

“Why would I hear from Magnus?” Alec asked, rolling out his shoulder with an intentional casualness.

Izzy gave him a pointed look. “About the missing warlocks? You did promise to share information, remember?” Her grin widened as she bounced from foot to foot, looking for a hole in his defenses. “Or maybe he thinks you’d have a different answer for him if he asked you out without so many people around.”

“He didn’t— That’s not what that was,” Alec insisted. He could admit, at least to himself, that he’d been just a tiny bit flattered at Magnus’s flirting, but he wasn’t foolish enough to take it seriously.

And even if Magnus had been serious, it wouldn’t matter. Alec was getting married.

Izzy gave him her most disbelieving smirk, then added insult to injury by blocking his next attack seemingly without effort.

“Then maybe you should ask him out,” Izzy suggested. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to.”

“Izzy,” Alec said warningly, “drop it.”

“For now,” she agreed, once again darting out of range of his staff. “But don’t think this conversation is over, big brother.”

Alec was saved from answering by the arrival of a fire message. It was entirely Izzy’s fault that he let himself wonder, for those few seconds before he read it, if it might be from Magnus.

“Everything okay?” Izzy asked, lowering her staff.

“Yeah,” Alec said, frowning faintly. The message was from a warlock, just not the one he’d been hoping to hear from. “Yeah, I just gotta take care of something real quick.”

“Guess I’ll just have to kick your ass later then,” Izzy said with a shrug.

Alec decided that one wasn’t worth answering.

“Thank you again for coming,” Catarina said, leaning back against the park bench. A few feet away, Madzie was pushing Mr. Flopsy on the swing set. “She just wouldn’t believe you were really okay until she could see it for herself. And with Iris gone, she doesn’t have a whole lot of stability in her world right now.”

“I get it,” Alec said. Shadowhunters didn’t exactly tend to live long and full lives, and this wasn’t the first time he’d seen a kid who’d lost a parent figure panic over other people getting hurt. “And I don’t mind. If seeing me alive and well is what it takes to make Madzie feel safe again, that’s something I’m happy to do.”

“You’re her hero, you know,” Catarina told him. “You and Magnus. She doesn’t talk much, but when she does? It’s about how the two of you saved her. I think I’ve heard the story five times already this morning.”

“I don’t feel like much of a hero,” Alec said. “I was just doing my job.”

“Maybe,” Catarina said, watching him carefully, “but you do it a lot better than most Shadowhunters. At least where warlocks are concerned.”

Alec shrugged uncomfortably. This was not a conversation he wanted to have on a sunny morning in the park with a near-stranger.

“How are the others you rescued, the mother and baby?” he asked instead. Izzy had filled him in on the details he’d missed while he was unconscious.

“As well as they can be under the circumstances, Catarina answered. “Safe. It’s not as common that a warlock child and his mother need shelter as it is for a warlock child alone, but it’s common enough that we have safe places for them.”

“That’s—” Alec didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never really had reason to think about what life was like for warlock children, but it made sense they wouldn’t exactly have a stable home life with one mundane parent and one demon. “I’m glad they have somewhere to go.”

Alec’s phone beeped, the tone he used for alerts from the Institute, and he sighed. “Duty calls.”

Catarina gave him a tired smile. “It always does.”

At Madzie’s insistence, Alec gave Mr. Flopsy a hug before heading back to the Institute, and whatever his mother needed from him now.

For the second evening in a row, Magnus found himself with a splitting headache and in desperate need of a stiff drink. He’d spent the day speaking to Iris Rouse’s few friends in the hopes of finding something that might lead him to her or the missing children. Instead, he’d merely found that Iris’s friends were no more pleasant than the woman herself.

He was just about to open a portal back to his loft—and his plethora of whiskey—when he sensed the demonic energy. He was being followed. Very sloppily.

Instead of opening the portal, he crossed the street and headed east. If someone was stupid enough to send demons to follow him, he was damn well going to find out who and why.

The demons kept themselves well back as Magnus wove his way through crowded streets, and he began to think they were merely tracking his movements. Which was good, because he didn’t think there were more than three following him, and if these demons were sent to track him by the same person who sent the horde of Raveners after Madzie, Magnus would be very insulted that they’d sent fewer demons for him than for a six-year-old.

But if it was the same person, Magnus didn’t want these demons reporting back to the person who summoned them. Even though his investigation into the disappearance of Iris Rouse and the warlock children living with her had yielded basically nothing, he didn’t want to give the person who took them even that much information about what he did and did not know.

Decision made, he turned another corner, leading his pursuers toward an area likely to be a bit less crowded. Glamour could hide what he was doing from passersby but fighting demons in the middle of a crowded street in Midtown wasn’t exactly safe for innocent bystanders, even if it was going to be a very short fight.

It was another ten minutes before he found a short side street deserted enough Magnus wasn’t worried about some mundane accidentally stumbling into his fight. With an air of nonchalance, he stopped and pretended to examine a particularly large crack in the sidewalk.

As Magnus had hoped, the demons followed him onto the street, although they kept to the shadows. He’d been right: there were three of them. Shax demons, and almost certainly sent to spy on him. It took less than ten seconds to take them down, a blast of magic in the thorax of each.

“Well done,” came a voice from over his right shoulder.

“More like medium-rare,” Magnus said with a smirk as he spun around to face Alec. “You know, if I’d realized you were going to come dashing to my rescue, I would have left one of them for you.”

Alec raised his eyebrows in skepticism, but Magnus could see the hint of a smile underneath, and it was breathtaking. “You don’t really strike me as the type to need rescuing.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Magnus agreed. “But I wouldn’t want you to feel like I don’t appreciate the attempt.”

“That’s not— I mean, I wasn’t—” Alec blew out a long breath. “I was following up on a possible demon sighting, not trying to rescue you.”

“I suppose that’s a relief,” Magnus said, ignoring the slight twinge of disappointment that Alec was looking for demons and not for him. “It wouldn’t do for Shadowhunters to think the High Warlock of Brooklyn can’t take care of himself.”

Alec snorted. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that. ” Magnus quirked an intrigued eyebrow, and Alec hurried to add, “I just mean, the Clave’s file on you is pretty clear on your ability to take care of yourself.”

“I would question the accuracy of anything the Clave has to say about me,” Magnus said, “but I’m glad to hear they got one part right, at least.” And he was more than a little pleased that Alec had been reading up on him, even if his choice of source material was questionable.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alec said. “Do you know what those demons were after?”

“Following me,” Magnus told him. “I spent my day investigating the latest warlock disappearances, and I suspect the person responsible sent those Shax demons to follow me and report back on my activities. Not that I’ve had much luck in finding anything.”

“Are you sure you’re safe?” Alec asked with a frown. “If the person kidnapping warlocks is tracking you, you could be their next target.”

“I appreciate your concern, Alexander,” Magnus answered sincerely, “but I assure you I’ve taken plenty of precautions. As we just covered, I’m more than capable of handling myself in a fight, and my loft is quite well warded.”

Alec’s frown lessened, but didn’t disappear entirely, and Magnus couldn’t help but be touched by his concern. “And is that where you’re headed now? Back to your loft?”

Magnus nodded. “I was thinking I could use a drink after the day I’ve had.” He paused, debating internally, then added, “Would you care to join me?”

Emotions flickered across Alec’s face like frames in an old-time film: surprise followed by delight, which was quickly doused by regret.

“Magnus, I wish— I just—”

Magnus held up a finger to silence him. “I understand.”

And he did, much as he wished he didn’t. Shadowhunters weren’t exactly accepting of same-sex relationships, nor relationships between Shadowhunters and Downworlders. Whatever attraction there might be between the two of them, Alec was obviously unwilling to pursue it. Maybe even unwilling to acknowledge it. Really, it was what Magnus should have expected, and he hated that he’d let some small part of himself hope.

Alec huffed out a frustrated breath. “You don’t,” he said, but offered no further explanation.

“Well,” Magnus said, letting his own regret show through a tiny smile, “it was a nice thought. Goodnight, Alexander.”

He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard a faint “goodnight,” follow him through the portal back to his loft.

[faejilly]

i hate how everyone felt the need to dictate what alec should or shouldn’t do to save his bf like if izzy didn't jump in front of simon risking her life to save him&jace didn’t risk everyone and everything for clary, same w clary yet when alec thinks of becoming a vampire as a way to save his fiancé that'll still keep him "alive" they flip out like hypocrites

basically what im saying is they all get to do whatever tf they want without getting alec’s thoughts on the matter and when alec does they don’t care (and the narrative glorifies them and gives them moral high grounds like always) but when it comes to alec and magnus suddenly there has to be a whole meeting for everyone to feel comfortable

Hmm. 

Well nonny. I both agree & disagree with what you’re saying here? Like, it’s a consistent problem in the show that everyone does stupid shit all the fucking time (because it’s a melodrama and also they’re mostly all 19 and I’m sorry to my younger readers but everyone is an idiot at 19, we just are, I’m including myself in this, there is no getting around it; we may all be idiots in different ways but it’s still there!) but Alec is both older & the only one who has a story/character-arc about reconciling one’s mistakes, so he’s the only one who ever has to deal with consequences and that is super shitty. It makes everyone else look like assholes even when they’re not supposed to, and it makes his storyline heavier and sadder in comparison to potential hero-moments that other people get. (He never gets to be right, not really, and that’s exhausting.)

Like, I don’t think anyone’s disagreeing that that’s a thing the show does and also that it’s crap. Alec gets judged and everyone else (mostly) gets away with shit. (Every time Clary charges out of the Institute to Do Things™ in season 1? Alec’s legitimate tactical concerns being framed as jealousy over Jace? Izzy & everything remotely related to her sub-plot in 2a? Every time Jace refused to tell anyone anything about what was wrong in 3a? SUMMONING LILITH IN 3B ANYONE? Dear lords. *sighs forever*)

The counter to this is that Alec gets AGENCY, he gets to make decisions about his life and act on them; even when they’re shitty decisions they’re his, and everyone else is mostly just sitting around and reacting to things all the time. (Especially Magnus in 3b OH GODS I WILL NEVER BE OVER THAT, but sorry, different post.)

um

I will say, there’s a meeting about Magnus/Heavenly Fire/Edom because Lilith is going to try and destroy the world and so it’s not just about Alec needing to rescue his fiance. It’s not that everyone got together just to judge Alec for making emotional decisions when he’s, you know, legit emotional about things, they do have other issues to discuss.

I also think there’s a difference between most of the crew’s tendency to impulsive & stupid decisions in the field, and Alec’s ability to think tactically and make a decision and throw himself at it in .5 seconds while everyone else is still standing around going wtf? Like, it’s one of my favorite Alec traits, but it’s a little concerning to watch if you love him and don’t know he’s fiction and thus it will all work out in the end.

Like, you can see Alec, in his head, in the same amount of time it takes everyone else to think: oh shit, can we even get to Edom? What now? going: 

I can’t go to Edom as a Nephilim. 

De-Runing won’t work, still have angel blood, how to get rid of Angel blood? 

Some sort of blood curse would be dangerous and would probably take too long and I don’t even know if it would work, have to be a Downworlder. 

There’s no known way to turn into a Seelie or a Warlock, Werewolf change isn’t guaranteed and won’t go into effect until the next full moon, so that’ll REALLY take too long. Vampire will have to kill me and also might not work but the odds are better than curses or Werewolf and I’ll be ready to go tomorrow… any other way? No? 

“Simon Make me a Vampire”

THAT’S NOT NORMAL. 

It’s delightful and I love him, but that’s not how most people’s brains work, so I don’t begrudge the fact that everyone else around him went: what, NO. 

I went oh no, baby, don’t do that and I was totally with him on the thought process. (He will die and he might stay dead and not get up again. Also what’s he gonna eat in Edom? What happens if he loses control and bites Magnus? What’s he going to do in a hell dimension for FOREVER while Lilith tries to kill Magnus? That’s only the start of a plan, where’s the rest of it? And of course he has to kill himself as part of the process! That’s different on a visceral level than the rest of his family’s ability to throw themselves between someone and a sword in the heat of battle.)

Now, to Alec’s credit, I think he’s completely aware of all those follow-up questions, it’s not that he doesn’t know he only has half a plan… he just doesn’t care. His longevity is never a factor when he’s making tactical decisions. 

Which is traumatic for the people who love him, and gets them being all judgey at him when he does it. (Which may not be the best way to express concern but hey, sometimes people are really dumb even when they mean well.)

So yes, I hate that Alec is consistently held up to higher standards than the rest of the cast, I hate that they let him bear the consequences of everything that happens to everyone ever, that the show mostly framed this as reasonable because it was always busy shoving Clary & Jace into the Next Disaster™ and that no one except Magnus ever even seemed to notice that Alec carried everyone else. 

That said… I don’t think everyone being upset at Alec’s “TURN ME INTO A VAMPIRE” plan was really a case of them being hypocritical so much as it was a case of them being in denial about how bad the situation they were in actually was: No, that can’t actually be the only way to do this, there’s got to be a better option, right? 

/shameless self-promotion: for further thoughts on Alec as Vampire, pls see my insomnia-fueled not!fic.

Now, part of their disbelief can be attributed to the fact that none of them (except Simon being raped & murdered by Camille, and Isabelle and her yin fen arc) have ever actually faced the consequences of their terrible decisions before, and in both those cases they kind of… never addressed the consequences again later? But I’ve always taken that as a failure in the story-telling  rather than a character trait, iykwim.

The show never deals with consequences and emotional aftermaths, it’s not that sort of show. Can you blame the characters for that, or do you assume it happens off screen and we just never got to see it, because the story never told us that part for anything? (Except notably Magnus’ flashbacks after the agony rune, and there’s a reason that arc is one of a lot of people’s favorites, and it’s mostly HSjr’s amazing performance but it’s also that it is one of the few moments of proper emotional catharsis & follow-through in the whole series.)

It is really just personal preference, I mean, you have to base the characters on what the show gives us, but sometimes, idk. You can disagree with canon. Sometimes canon is wrong, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with basing your enjoyment of media on that premise.

For me it’s important to acknowledge the limits of the media, the style of the show and the pressures of production and scenes where it seems clear that what they’re trying to say and what ended up on screen may not be the same thing, to take character inconsistencies and wonder which ones are part of the character, (because people are inconsistent) and which ones are a side-effect of production errors. *shrugs* ymmv and all that though

[hiddlesgirl]

SH 316: Stay With Me

This episode was one hell of an emotional rollercoaster and I think that it is one of the best episodes of 3B; packed with emotion, fantastically shot scenes and progressing storylines. It was very well written and directed, so much of the dialogue and visuals enhanced the scenes and were really emotionally provocative. Malec, especially Alec, absolutely destroyed me; I think this is was one of Matt’s best performances of the show, the amount of emotion he continuously put out and the vulnerability of Alec was astounding.

I am already crying because we know that the dance scene happens in Magnus’ mind, and while I was slightly disappointed that it wasn’t happening in reality the scene its self is so beautiful. I love the little moment of them eating breakfast together too, and their discussion of dancing in Havana; Aisha, who wrote the episode, confirmed on Twitter that Magnus and Alec did actually go dancing in Havana which is awesome.

The actual dance scene was perfection. The choreography, Matt and Harry’s performances (not just the dance, but the acting, them looking at each other), the song, the lighting and the way it was shot. It was amazing. We also learned via Twitter that the dance was based on the dance a gay couple performed at their wedding, it was taught to Matt and Harry via Skype and then they had a choreographer on hand in Toronto to help. The whole process is amazing. Plus, Matt has never really danced before, he was very nervous and was scared we wouldn’t like it; he was fantastic. I don’t think we could have wished for a better dance scene. (Hopefully we will be getting another one, which happens in reality, when they get married).

The last moments of the scene are heartbreaking, Magnus becoming limp, Alec’s ‘stay with me’ and their twirling getting faster. The slipping of their hands, Magnus in the dark and Alec in the light; it was soul crushingly beautiful. The symbolism of the dark and light was incredible; the duality of Heaven and Hell, Angel and Demon, but also Magnus’ slipping away into darkness and Alec being the light trying to bring him back. The entire scene was just too incredible to accurately describe in words.

My heart breaks even more when the scene changes back to reality and we see Alec desperately talking to and giving Magnus CPR, he is trying everything he can to keep Magnus alive. He then watches as Catarina uses magic to save Magnus, he is talking to Magnus the entire time. I am crying so much at this point because Alec’s constant stream of reassurances and begging to Magnus is ripping my heart out, you can hear his fear in his voice.

The infirmary scene is so heartbreaking, Matt’s acting in this scene is impeccable; the absolute fear, guilt, desperation and despair he is able to convey is amazing. Alec blames himself because he didn’t look deeper to see the truth of how Magnus was feeling, he feels selfish because he was happy that they might grow old together. In their relationship, Magnus’ immortality has been a hurdle for them and mostly for Alec to come to terms with ageing while Magnus’ doesn’t. To be faced with the reality that they may grow old together, it is understandable that Alec was happy about that future, for them to be each other’s future and last love.

He is pinching the skin on his hands and I love how much attention to detail and consistency Matt keeps with Alec, whenever Alec feels guilt for anything he tends to injure his hands. When Jace left he was using punching bags, after he was possessed he used his bow until his hands bled; he has this tendency of self harm and I like that they are keeping it consistent. However I do wish that they would properly address Alec’s mental health because this consistent self harming behaviour just shows that, especially in times of stress, he is still struggling.

He hates that he didn’t see how much Magnus was suffering; he blames himself for not being able to see through the mask and be a full support for Magnus during this time. He thinks that if he had known then this might not have happened. The line ‘Magnus I love you, more than anyone in the world’ absolutely breaks me, Alec never thought he would have romantic love but now he loves this man with his entire being and cannot begin to imagine a life without him. I also love that Alec holds Magnus’ hand in his, needing that physical reassurance that Magnus is still there and to have the comfort of his touch, while trying to give Magnus comfort too.

Alec is furious at Lorenzo, believing that he did the transfusion with the hope of causing Magnus harm; I absolutely do not blame Alec for thinking this. Lorenzo has proven time and again that he hates Magnus and will do anything to hurt him whenever the opportunity presents itself. Unfortunately, only the warlock who gave the magic can take it back. Alec’s anger is completely understandable, Magnus’ life is in danger because of the same man who took credit for his actions, depraved him of help from others and took his apartment; Alec feels nothing but contempt towards this person who persistently tries to hurt Magnus.

My heart hurts for Clary, to see someone she thought of as invincible look so vulnerable is unnerving and to realise that she almost lost him and she didn’t know must be upsetting. I am not fond of the wording of the line ‘first Luke goes to prison and now this’ because it came of very self centred, making Magnus’ situation about herself; I know that it was not intended this way, it was just intended to show how much Clary feels like the world is falling apart, but I can’t help how it sounded to me.

I understand why she lashed out at Simon, she was full of negative emotion which was fuelled by the rune; however I wished she had apologised because it was completely uncalled for to lash out at someone trying to offer you comfort. Even more so because Simon is upset and suffering too, Luke is his father figure and Magnus is his friend too.

I really did not like that they asked Catarina to summon Lilith; I know that she is there and that they trust her but really?! I hate that they disturbed her, asked her to expend a lot of energy summoning a dangerous greater demon, trying to take her away from Magnus’ bedside when she was trying to care for him after he just almost died!

I hate seeing Lorenzo’s stuff in Magnus apartment, and Lorenzo is drinking a martini (which is much more a Magnus drink, I don’t think we have ever seen Lorenzo drink one before) and to me this comes off very much that Lorenzo wants to be Magnus, wants to have what he has. I love that Alec is having none of Lorenzo’s nonsense and turns off his music, and the disgruntled look on his face as Lorenzo helps himself to Magnus’ drink cart.

We finally learn that Lorenzo’s vendetta against Magnus is purely fuelled by jealousy; I did suspect this because Magnus is not the type of person to have caused someone enough grievances to hold a grudge. He is clearly jealous of Magnus’ power that is a result of his parentage and the fact that other warlocks genuinely care for him, he speaks as though Magnus has never experiences hardship and it becomes clear that he has built up Magnus in his head as a villain who has had an easy life with everything handed to him, which could not be further from the truth.

Lorenzo shows absolutely no remorse or sympathy towards Alec and even sounds glad that Magnus is in such as position, and possibly even looks forward to his possible death; it seems that to him, if Magnus dies the other warlocks will shift their love to him, but of course that is ridiculous. His blasé behaviour understandable angers Alec, to hear Lorenzo implicate Magnus’ death enrages him.

Lorenzo’s magical attack snaps him out of his anger and all he feels in that moment is desperation, the need to do whatever it takes to save Magnus; so he changes his approach. He allows himself to become emotional and try to appeal to Lorenzo’s humanity, to get Lorenzo to forget that it’s Magnus and just see someone trying to save the life of someone they love. The line ‘Magnus, he is my world’ makes me cry, Magnus had become the centre of Alec’s world and to lose him would destroy him.

Matt’s acting and body language really sells this scene; you can see Alec’s entire posture change from aggressive and forceful to vulnerable and submissive, it really shows Alec warring emotions. You can see a moment of humanity from Lorenzo upon seeing Alec’s breakdown, you can see that he can identify with the fear of losing someone and that he may feel sympathy for Alec in that moment.

I enjoyed the scene between the Seelie Queen and Jonathan, it had this tension running through it and this undercurrent that I can’t put my finger on, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. The Seelie Queen once again shows her cunning and willingness to quickly change direction when it suits her and when she will get something out of it, this makes her more dangerous because she doesn’t always stick to one idea, and as soon as she spots a new opportunity she will change her mind.

Kimberly was great and I am excited to see more of her, I think that to take on the role of the adult Seelie Queen is made more of a challenge because it has been played by two other actress. You have to be able to carry over some of their posture, mannerisms and speech to convey that even though their appearances changes they are all the same character.

I love that Maryse is visiting Luke; I really hope that we continue to see their relationship progress and I cannot wait to see Alec, Izzy, Jace, Clary and Simon to find out about their kiss. She is concerned about him turning while he is in prison, she knows how much stress he is bound to be under and she doesn’t want him to endanger himself further by shifting. Luke reassures her, he knew what he was getting into and has good control over his emotions, and he believes he will be able to cope.

I really like that Maryse has bought the book shop, it enables her to stay part of the Shadow World in a small way because Elliot was bound to have many Shadow World artefacts and customers. It gives her purpose and it is a job she can do that doesn’t require any mundane skills or education like many other jobs. I am happy that she is finding her way.

Luke doesn’t want her to visit because he doesn’t want to hold her back from creating a new life, he wants her to move forward and be happy; he believes that she cannot do that while she is still visiting and holding onto him. He is pushing away everyone he cares about, whether this is because he wants them to move on or because he believes that he doesn’t deserve their love I’m not sure. Maryse refuses to be pushed away, she is going to be there to support him; she feels guilty for shunning him after he turned and she is not going to turn her back on him a second time.

I really like the Sizzy scene, they have always had a great bond and friendship; offering support without judgement through some of their darkest times. For Izzy it was her addiction and for Simon it was the situation between Heidi and his family. I think that this friendship and their bonding through these moments are going to be the foundation for a beautiful relationship to bloom.

I understand why they both feel like they want to abstain from romantic relationships; for Simon both his relationships have ended because there wasn’t enough romantic love or connection, while they still care about each other the love they felt fizzled out. For Izzy, the first person she felt a genuine connection with was also a toxic relationship for both of them because of their addictions, and in the end it only caused her pain. The pinky promise was just adorable.

Cain is terrified to face Lilith, she was able to manipulate him once and the consequences were disastrous; as a result he has spent his entire, centuries, of life hiding away. He is so full of guilt, fear and self doubt; I am so happy that we are seeing more of Cain and Pasha who plays him, he is such a great actor, the emotion he portrays is so genuine and raw.

Simon identifies with Cain because he understands the guilt of hurting the ones you love in the worst ways, he also sees what his future could have been if he had not have been able to remove the mark. He feels sympathy and a kinship with Cain, he wants him to know that he is not alone and that Simon will help him in any way he can.

I really like Simon’s line about facing your demons, he knows from experience that you can’t hide forever and if you don’t face your fears they will control you. He wants to free Cain from this paralysing fear, he wants him to have the strength to face the woman who took everything from him.

I love the little moment of Magnus waking up, Alec saying ‘There you are’ and gently turning Magnus’ head to face him wanting to look him in the eyes. Magnus’ then saying ‘There you are’ and touching Alec’s face, reassuring them both; I love Alec’s soft smile and closing his eyes to bask in Magnus’ touch. You can see how happy and relieved Alec is that Magnus is finally awake because even though Catarina said he would wake up it was hard to believe until it actually happened.

Alec is so attentive, adjusting Magnus’ pillows and helping him to sit up to make sure he is comfortable and doesn’t hurt himself. You can see the fear on his face when Magnus motions to do a spell; he knows what the consequences could be and he couldn’t cope with watching Magnus collapse again; especially when he knows that next time he might lose him for good. Magnus is in denial about how serious his condition is, he is so desperate to have magic that he wants to ignore what is happening.

I love the way the next scene is shot; using Magnus’ reflection to show that Magnus is only able to see his flaws and is blinded by how he sees himself. He is also trying to hide from Alec by not facing him directly, but he is unable to hide how he feels and the reflection is used to show this because Alec can see his expression in his reflection. He is able to see how Magnus’ sees himself, can see the pain and suffering that Magnus can no longer hide.

I also love that the camera angles allow the two halos of light to hover over both Alec and Magnus; and it also moves so that early in the conversation the edge of the glass creates a wall between Alec and Magnus, symbolising the walls Magnus is trying to put up. These decisions on how to shot the scene really do make an impact on the emotion and how it is perceived. I definitely think Amanda Row is one of my favourite directors for this specific reason; she is amazing at using camera angles and shots to capture the emotion and undercurrent of the scene and characters emotions.

Alec wants to impress the seriousness of the situation on Magnus because he had to watch as Magnus stopped breathing, he thought Magnus was dead and he is not willing to experience that again if it can be prevented. He is frustrated that Magnus is trying to brush off his concerns and doesn’t seem to be taking the threat seriously. He is devastated when Magnus says that magic may be worth dying for, he is taken aback by his conviction. He understands that magic was important but this drives home just how integral it is to how Magnus identifies.

Magnus feels so estranged from himself without his magic and doesn’t know how to live without it, to have to face giving it up a second time is ripping him apart. He knows how dangerous it is but he doesn’t want to have to face it because he is desperate to keep hold of the magic and himself; he finds it hard to believe that Alec could still love him because he feels like a completely different person without his magic.

I really start sobbing when Magnus turns to confront Alec; Harry actually added the line ‘Look at me! Can you honestly say you like this?!’ it really elevates the scene emotionally and really gives you a sense of just how different Magnus feels without magic. He doesn’t understand how Alec could love him when he doesn’t see himself as lovable.

Alec’s immediate answer is ‘Yes.’; he is so in love with Magnus that it isn’t even a question for him; he loves all parts of Magnus and nothing is going to changes that. I am openly sobbing at Alec speech of all the reason why he fell in love with Magnus, he is trying to get Magnus to understand and see all the things Alec sees in him that have nothing to do with his magic and everything to do with his personality. There is no situation where he would not love Magnus or find him less desirable, he is desperately trying to convince Magnus of this; his line ‘I won’t lose you, I can’t’ breaks me, seeing Magnus almost die has really made Alec realise that he can’t live without Magnus. Magnus has become such an integral part of his life, the love of his life that he doesn’t know how he would survive without him and doesn’t want to.

While Lilith is happy to see Jonathan she is clearly disappointed and annoyed that he didn’t come for her sooner, and we learn that Asmodeus used the magic he took for Magnus to imprison her and take over as the ruler of Edom. This is very interesting because you wonder if the Edom storyline is going to involve Lilith too, maybe she takes Magnus as leverage against Asmodeus or offers to help Magnus get his magic back as to weaken Asmodeus.

Lilith is angry that Clary is the reason Jonathan didn’t come for her sooner, Jonathan is her priority and she doesn’t understand why she isn’t his; and she hates Clary for capturing Jonathan’s attention and affection. She doesn’t trust him after his outburst and can tell that he is not being honest with her but she is blinded when he says that he loves her, she has wanted a child and the love of that child for so long that it eclipses everything else. We also see where Jonathan gets his incestuous tendencies from.

Did anyone else find it hilarious that when she was summoned she was just pulled backwards into the portal? For some reason it just really made me laugh how it happened, I’m not sure if I expected them to go through the ground (as they do when going to Edom) or if they would be pulled upwards but I did not expect that. I just find it hilarious that a demon could be going about their business and is then just pulled into a portal without warning.

Magnus has agreed for Lorenzo to take the magic back but you can tell from his expression that he is unhappy and is only doing it because he loves Alec. He knows how much Alec loves him, and he loves Alec too, he doesn’t want to cause Alec any more pain and deep down staying alive to live and love with Alec is more important than magic.

Lorenzo’s humanity promptly disappears as he informs them that he is keeping Magnus’ apartment. For me, at the moment there is still no redemption for Lorenzo; with everything he has done before this episode coupled with the fact that his only grievance with Magnus is jealousy of him and the refusal to give up the apartment. His moment of humanity and agreeing to take the magic back is negated by his jealousy and greed.

What I don’t understand is that the High Warlock is voted in right? And if the New York warlocks love and respect Magnus so much why have the not complained about Lorenzo yet, either to his face or to the Warlock Council (that’s a thing right, I haven’t read the books but I’m pretty sure I read that this is their sort of governing body. Please correct me if I’m wrong). Even if they don’t know everything Lorenzo has done they know that he has barred them from helping Magnus for anything with no good reason, surely this should have set off alarm bells for them. I would have expected at least Catarina to have done something because she knows most if not all of what Lorenzo has done. I know that story wise Lorenzo needs to be there but it just doesn’t make sense that they keep mentioning how beloved Magnus is but no one seems to be doing anything about Lorenzo’s treatment of him.

Magnus says he has everything he needs right there, gesturing to Alec; he knows that even without everything else he still has Alec and he is enough to keep him alive. Deep down he knows that the only things he truly needs if Alec but he cannot help how he feels without his magic; it is such a major part of who he is and he feels lost. Everything he is feeling is completely understandable.

I am glad that we got a Malec hug but it was a little disappointing because it felt a little stilted, but it is kinda understandable with how adrift Magnus is feeling right now. You can see in his expression how devastated and despondent he feels right now; I know that we are in for a lot of Magnus and Malec angst in the next few episodes. I am a little excited though because Harry always performs emotion and Magnus’ vulnerability brilliantly and usually makes me cry.

You can already see Lilith working out how to make this situation play to her benefit, she is angry that Jonathan tried to kill her and I’m pretty sure that she has disowned him; which while I understand why Jonathan hates her he has just lost his most powerful ally. She tells them that there is only one way to break the bond, to use Michael’s sword Glorious to stab Jonathan because it is imbued with Heavenly Fire which purifies demonic energy and nullifies the bond.

Izzy picks up on Heavenly Fire as it is the name of the Clave program and I am very interested to see where this storyline is going and it is looking more and more likely that my theory about it is close to being right. In case you haven’t read my 3x11 or 3x14 reviews, my loose theory is that they are somehow trying to purify the demon blood in Downworlders.

Jonathan appears with the intention of getting to Lilith, I don’t really like the fight scene and I think it might be one of the weakest ones the show has done. It felt very disjointed and there was too much slow motion for me, plus Jonathan producing that shock wave with his sword was strange because although you presume it was because of his demonic strength it felt out of place as we hadn’t seen him do anything like that before. Plus, Jace and Izzy spent too much time rolling around on the floor for my taste when it has been established many times that the simple use of an Iratze is an instant cure. It seems so odd that they weren’t immediately healing themselves and instead just lying there.

I feel real sympathy for Cain because yet again Lilith is able to manipulate him, promising to return his brother to him if he helps and protects her. She uses his grief and guilt against him, knowing that he will cave. He genuine seems apologetic to Simon because he knows how much trust Simon was putting in him and he hates letting him down, but for him getting his brother back is more important.

I was very confused at Luke getting a visitor outside of visiting hours because we are expecting his situation to get worse, as soon as the man said his name was Scott I knew he was Praetor Lupus because I remember Jordan talking about a Praetor Scott at the beginning of 3x13.

It feels very unsettling to learn that they have been watching him for a long time without his knowledge and the fact that they have enough influence to dismiss not only Luke’s murder charge but also everything to do with Ollie and the demonic murders. We know very little about the Praetor Lupus but it is very clear that they hold a lot of power in ways that we don’t expect. I think that this will be a very interesting new turn for Luke and I am excited to see where it goes.

Jonathan is in chains and I cannot help but laugh because my mum said ‘quack’ and I now cannot look at him without picturing him as a duck. But it also gives me Hannibal Lector vibes, which I presume was there actual intention.

Clary feels more confident in her ability to fight the rune’s influence with Jace by her side because he keeps her grounded. Each time she has felt close to the edge knowing he is there has prevented her from falling over it, she is hoping that together they can prevent her from succumbing to the rune. It is a very sweet scene between them and definitely feels like a parallel to Jace’s Owl situation in 3A.

I am crying right now just thinking about writing about this last scene. I totally was not expecting it, especially given the sober feel of all the Malec scenes in this episode. Oh my god.

Alec goes to Maryse and explains Magnus’ health issues, I am crying when he says ‘I can’t live without him’; Alec who never thought he would find someone to love now has the love of his life. Maryse is so happy for him; she can see how happy Magnus makes Alec and how much of a difference having Magnus in his life has made for Alec. She is overjoyed that her son has genuine love in his life, that he found someone who loves him just as much.

I am literally screaming when he asks for the family ring, the family ring has so much sentimentality to them; especially Alec whose world revolves around his family. The fact that he is requesting the ring shows how certain he is about Magnus and the significance of giving a Downworlder a Nephilim family ring is completely mind blowing. I think it will mean a lot to Magnus because he probably knows this tradition with family rings and he knows the significance of them; to be given such an important Shadowhunter object and to be included in this tradition will mean a lot, especially after a life full of being made to feel inferior to Shadowhunters.

I know that some people are saying that it is too soon for Malec to be getting married, they have only been together for about three months, and I understand where they are coming from. But the decision of when you are ready to propose is a completely individual thing, plus they have almost lost each other so many times that it makes them realise that time is precious and they shouldn’t waste a moment just because other may find it fast. Plus, Shadowhunters only have one true love and for Alec its Magnus, there will never be another for him so why should he wait when he feels ready now. There is nothing wrong with Alec wanting to propose to the man that he loves, he wants to spend the rest of his life with him and to show Magnus the extent of his commitment and love.

Now, that doesn’t mean Magnus will say yes right now and that is his decision. He is going through a lot right now and he may not feel like he can make such a big decision, especially when he doesn’t even feel like himself. Even if Magnus does say no to Alec’s proposal it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to marry him, it just means he is not ready to say yes yet.

I did wonder if it will play out like Alec asking to move in; Alec will ask Magnus to marry him and Magnus will say no, not yet. Then they will experience a life endangering situation (the whole Edom thing) Alec will ask again and Magnus will say yes; or Magnus will ask Alec to marry him.

I have no idea how this is going to pan out, something may happen to cause Alec to wait a little before asking, or maybe he is prevented from asking. I have no idea but I know that it is probably going to be painful, in the end it will lead to so much happiness and I am excited for every excruciating moment of it.

This was an amazing episode full of emotion and beautiful camera angles, every scene felt like it has a purpose and were driving the plots. Matt absolutely destroyed me with his acting and Malec took me on one huge rollercoaster of emotions.

I’m so excited for 317 even though I’m scared about how the proposal is going to pan out, Simon is going under cover at the Gard and Clary confronts her brother. I am not prepared for the pain that is coming.

[rookie-dm-disasters]

Chapter 16: The Battle Down Under

The group stared at the giant wurm. None of them had heard a wurm speak before, but perhaps that was common here? There were no discernable eyes on the creature, making it difficult to tell where it was looking. In the dark caverns, the group stood with mouths agape. The wurm cocked its head. “You know, it’s very rude to ignore someone when they are speaking to you.” Even in the dim light emanating from the fungi along the floor and walls of the tunnel, the creature’s teeth were plane to see. Each one like a sword, ready to slice through any prey. And all five of them could easily fit in its mouth at once. Thorfreyer tried to slow his heart rate. He faced many foes in his past, but never one quite so large. He was willing to give it his all if a fight broke out, but he didn’t like their odds. He shook his head, attempting to shake the anxiety hanging over him. “Sorry” He said, “We aren’t from these parts.” The wurm scoffed. “Well that is plain to see. Have you not been taught manners where you come from? You come into my territory uninvited, you ignore me when I address you.” “I apologize for our rude behavior.” Thorfreyer said. “We were only down here looking for a metal called Alunan. We didn’t mean to intrude.” The wurm perked up. “Alunan you say? If that is what you seek, I believe that we may be able to help each other out. Ach, but now I am the one being rude.” The wurm contorted itself and bent in a way that the party was able to interpret as a bow. “My name is Betelgeuse. Pleasure to make your acquaintances.” The party went down the line and introduced themselves one by one. Each one wanted to know if this was typical of wurms in this world. They had all heard of creatures like this back home, but they never knew that they were capable of speech. Let alone rational thought. It was believed that wurms were animals that acted purely on instinct. None of them wanted to risk offending the massive creature by asking a question like that. As they introduced themselves and realized that Betelgeuse did not mean them harm, they loosened up a bit. Allowing themselves to become more relaxed for the time being. Thorfreyer continued to be their ambassador. “You had mentioned you know where we can acquire Alunan?” “Certainly” Said Betelgeuse. “It will not come easily though, and we will both benefit from it.” Thorfreyer nodded. “I’m with you so far.” The wurm began to writhe and slither back down the tunnel. It moved at a slow pace so the party could keep up, but still caused the ground to shake as it moved. The party followed, led by Thorfreyer. “The only Alunan that I know of down here is currently with the kraul queen. She uses it as her crown.” “And what is a kraul?” Thorfreyer asked. Betelgeuse turned his head to look back at him. “You don’t know? You were traveling with one when I found you. He fled though. Typical.” “You mean the bug? I didn’t know that’s what they were called.” Their eardrums rang as Betelgeuse chuckled. “No, no. Bug is far more appropriate. You’ve seen their cowardice firsthand. The pathetic insects can do nothing apart from their swarm.” Betelgeuse began to move faster, seemingly frustrated at the very thought of the kraul swarm. “But they are of little concern for much longer. I only need from them the Alunan that their queen wears atop her head.” “How do you plan to get it?” asked Thorfreyer. “That’s where you and your friends come in. I would like you to enter the lair of the kraul and scope out the area. Where is the queen, what are the weak points of their keep? No information is too insignificant. Once we secure a route, we attack, take the crown, and the Alunan is ours. I take what I need, and you take what you need.” Thorfreyer wasn’t used to recon missions, he was more of a run-in axe ablaze type. He looked back to Niama, who simply responded with a nod. “We can handle that.” Rum sped up to be beside Thorfreyer. “Hold on. Before we do this, why do you want the Alunan?” Before Betelgeuse could answer, they reached an opening from the tunnel that dispensed them on a cliff. Looking down into the darkness, they could see movement at the bottom, like rippling waves of dark water. Niama and Pumpeck saw it for what it truly was, however. It was not an underground lake, but a sea of wurms, each one smaller than Betelgeuse, but massive still. The wurms lips curled up as he looked at his army he had amassed. “If you are after the metal, I assume you know its properties. A phenomenal conduit for electricity. I need it for something I am working on. A machine that I shall dawn as armor and invade the Simic combine.” Since arriving, they heard several words unknown to them. Simic was one to be added to the list. “Aren’t the Simic one of those guilds that Jace mentioned?” Pumpeck piped up. She knew that they would have to bring a leaf from yggdrasil to the Simic to be modified for the trans-dimensional device. If they let this creature destroy the combine, they would never be able to return home. “Yes.” Said Betelgeuse. “The Simic are one of the ten guilds im Ravnica. They are bioengineers. Modifying life how they see fit. I am the product of their mad experimentation. A test to grant a lowly wurm the intelligence of one of their own kind. I escaped from my holding cell and came to the undercity. Since then, I have sought little more than revenge.” Thorfreyer said, “But they granted you a great mind. Aren’t you grateful for that?” Betelgeuse looked him in the eye after staring at his brethren in the pit. “Do you have any idea what it is like to be so far removed from your own kind? Look at them.” He gestured down to the wurms with his head. “They live on instinct, doing only as their bodies tell them to. I do not belong with my own kind. I cannot even communicate with them. I have no place to belong.” Thorfreyer stared silently at the sea of wurms, realizing that he did understand that feeling. Since his transformation to a minotaur, he had not returned home. His last contact with his family was his own father running him out of the village. He had not faced them since. “Can you point us in the direction of the kraul lair?” He finally asked. Betelgeuse smiled and relayed instructions to the party as Pumpeck wrote the instructions word for word while also drawing a small map. “Remember” the wurm said. “I only need information on what the lair looks like and where we can find the queen. Once we have all the information, we will form a plan and prepare an assault. But, if you can get the crown by some method, that would be preferable.” After receiving their instructions, the party set off to find the kraul lair. After thirty minutes of walking through the twisting caverns, Pumpeck addressed the group. “We cannot help him.” “What are you talking about?” Asked Thorfreyer. “He is only fueled by revenge and anger. If we help him, a lot of people will die.” “Good, the people who did that to him deserve it.” Thorfreyer raised his voice. Niama kept her voice calm. “You two can have this discussion, but keep it quiet, we have no idea what kind of creatures live in these tunnels.” “Fine.” Said Thorfreyer. “Look, If I had the opportunity to get revenge on the hags who did this to me, I would do it in a heartbeat.” “And what would that solve? “Asked Pumpeck. “You would still be a minotaur, and nothing would have been gained from it.” “It would keep them from doing this to anyone else. And that’s enough for me to sleep well at night.” “Maybe for you, but not for me. Why should we help him get revenge on people that we don’t even know? Not only that, but people we will need to ask for help very soon.” “I’m with Pumpeck on this one.” Said Rum. “If we help him, he’ll destroy the Simic and we will be stuck here.” Often quiet, Veldora spoke up. “Thorfreyer is right. If you are wronged, it is only right that the wrongdoers pay for their crimes. “Niama, what do you think?” Pumpeck asked. Niama rolled her eyes. “The bottom line is that we are not involved in this. I say that we get the Alunan as soon as possible, ensure the Simic are not destroyed and go home. What happens here after that doesn’t concern me.” “There we go, you’re outvoted three to two. We aren’t letting him get the Alunan.” Said Pumpeck. Thorfreyer snorted out his frustration. “Fine. Better come up with a clever plan to sneak it out of here.” According to the map and instructions, the party was nearing the kraul lair. They heard a swelling of buzzing and clicking as they drew closer. They had not yet formed a full plan on how they would manage to take the queen’s crown and leave Betelgeuse to his own devices. They would have to play it by ear. Niama made a signal for the rest of the group to stay back while she scouted ahead. With her eyes accustomed to the darkness and the skill set suited for stealth, she made her way further into the cave. She clung to the walls of the cavern, taking her time to make sure no guards were near. She reached an opening and saw a city where all the buildings looked like beehives growing from the ground. A swarm of kraul insects buzzed about their hives. Niama saw above her on a ceiling, a massive kraul. It looked down on all the nests, and it was the size of a nest itself. That must be the queen. Niama thought. It had a dark crown upon its head, and it looked down on the city. Niama saw no structure to the hive. No form or function. This didn’t look like a place built with intent, but more like a place that just happened. There was no hope if they attacked. Not only would they not be able to navigate the maze of hives, but their enemy could fly as well. She could see some kraul warriors flying and monitoring the premises. So, they do have guards at least. We’ll have to get creative.  Niama made her way back to her companions. The party jumped when she spoke, unable to see her approach.   “There is no good way to do an assault.” She relayed to the group. “The lair has no structure I have ever seen before. They may have a system, but I can’t see it. Even if we could attack, we still shouldn’t, there are at least a thousand.” The group gave a collective sigh. They would need to find a way to use diplomacy but none of them even knew if they could communicate with the bug people. Niama let them know that there were a few guards at the perimeter. If they showed they came in peace, maybe they could have a court with the queen.

[arjyles]

in dreams i dance with you

“Kim!” Trini screamed, sounding almost inhuman from how suddenly the sound was ripped from her throat when she’d seen the sudden flash of pink drop from the sky.

She’d been so lost in the celebration and cheering with the boys from the defeat of Lord Zedd, she hadn’t noticed Kim’s Zord going haywire in the sky.

The boys were still a fair distance away, so she rushed over in her own Zord, hopping out before it could properly stop.

“Kim,” Trini repeated worriedly, now close enough to be within earshot of her girlfriend.

“Trini,” Kim said, the name sounding guttural and wet from all the bleeding in her stomach, “can you hold my hand?”

The yellow ranger’s hands flew to the open wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding, even just for a little while, until more help came, “I can’t!” She shifted her hands more, but the bleeding didn’t let up.

Kim struggled with her next words, swallowing noisily so she could get a quick sentence out, “please,” another swallow, “just hold it. I’ll be okay.”

“But you’ll bleed out,” the shorter girl said frantically, feeling helpless. Kim had already lost a lot of blood, but she didn’t want to think about what that meant. They’d almost died before, they could survive this , right?

A heavy breath, and then another loud gulp. “But I can’t fall asleep unless you’re holding my hand.”

Her eyes widened, the panic in her chest beating to an even more erratic rhythm, “no, Kim-!” she said, trying to remember to breathe, “Kim, don’t- we just won ! Don’t fall asleep.”

She didn’t respond, instead choosing to smile up at Trini, her eyes half closed.

“Kim!” Trini yelled, much more urgently, “don’t do this to me! Rangers can’t die, remember?”

Still smiling, Kim wordlessly moved her hand onto Trini’s so that her hands were intertwined with the shorter girl’s, like their hands were spooning. “Just a quick nap,” she muttered.

“No,” Trini whispered, when her girlfriend’s eyes had fluttered shut, “no!” She repeated, this time louder. “Kim, open your eyes! Wake up!”

By then, Jason and the others had finally reached them. How long they’d been standing there, she didn’t know.

“Please,” she begged weakly, hoping Kim would just open her eyes and start laughing, like it was all some joke. “I love you.”

-

“Trini?”

The familiar voice snapped her back into reality, a sudden dull pang went off in her chest when she realized it wasn’t the voice she’d hoped for.

“You okay?” He prodded, when he noticed she hadn’t replied.

“... Yeah,” Trini finally replied, her voice cracking. “What’s up, Jace?”

The leader of their team scratched the back of his neck guiltily, suddenly sure his suspicions of diving back into training too soon were true. “I just, um- it’s you and Zack up,” he continued, and then added on quickly, “but if you’re not up to it, we can wait until next time-”

“No, no, I’m ready, I can do this,” she said, standing up suddenly and dusting the knees of her pants off like she hadn’t just been on the verge of tears.

He frowned at her, concerned. “You sure? Zordon said there are no serious enemies approaching- we have plenty of time to train.”

“No,” she repeated, much more firmly, “I can do this.”

Sensing that she wasn’t going to falter, he raised his arms up in surrender, instead preparing himself for any sudden outburst. “Okay,” he conceded.  

The other two rangers stared uncomfortably at the exchange, unsure of how to deal with the aftermath. It’d only been a week since the funeral, everything still so fragile and fresh to know how to properly handle it all.

Of course, they were all grieving-- they were all basically Kim’s family, but it only made sense for Trini to take it the hardest, having had a different, more intimate connection with Kim.

“Zack? You ready?” Jason asked, looking away from the yellow ranger to acknowledge the other boy.

He coughed, stepping forward into the ring. Raising his hands up hesitantly into position, he relaxed into a fighting stance. “Ready.”

The room was tense, the elephant in the room not having yet been addressed. Zack and Trini stared at each other in the ring, Trini, a small glare set on her face, ready to go, while Zack sported an uneasy grimace, uncertain if he should go through with the sparring match.

Alpha had barely finished signaling the start signal, when Trini launched herself forward, hitting Zack square in the jaw before he had time to block it.

“Ow,” he whined, stepping back, his guards finally being raised to their full extent, instead of his previous half-hearted stance.

Trini smirked then, a small trace of her old self back, “s’what you get for thinking you could go easy on me.”

Zack grinned back at her, dodging a second punch directed at his jaw. “Shit, crazy girl, never again.”

He eased into a more basic routine with her, throwing quick jabs and punches to her gut, while she aimed for his groin. Typical , he dimly thought, letting himself grow more used to the situation.

-

“You’re a cheerleader and you don’t know how to dance?”

“ Ex -cheerleader, and excuse you, I do know how... just not that kind.”

They were at an all time emotional high-- they’d just defeated Lokar, and the alcohol was still racing through their veins. The boys had left Kim’s house some time ago, so it was just the two of them now, Trini choosing to stay behind to help the taller girl clean up.

“You are going to have to show me your kind of dance later,” Trini said, trying not to think about what kind of dances ex-cheerleaders got up to, “but for now, you’re gonna learn how to do my kind.”

Kim scoffed, “and how do I know you’re even a credible teacher?” She asked, not even bothering to refuse after having thought about having Trini in close proximity.

“Because it’s literally just swaying, and I had to learn how for my quinces,” she chuckled, amazed that Kim, who was supposed to be graceful, didn’t know how to do a basic slow dance.

Her head snapped up after the mention of quinces, the thought of fifteen-year-old Trini in a pink fluffy dress too funny to completely disregard. “Quinces?” Kim questioned, not able to wipe the shit-eating grin on her face, “did you wear a princess dress? You got pics?”

Trini rolled her eyes playfully at Kim’s antics. She should’ve known there would’ve been questioning on that front. “Shut up, princess, ” she teased back, snaking her arms around Kim’s neck, “you’re going to learn how to dance right now.

“You sure?” Kim continued to joke, in an attempt to hide the blush on her ears, “no cute pink frilly dress pics?”

“They’re burned. Now c’mon, I’ll show you.”

Kim gulped, feeling uncharacteristically nervous, despite the slight buzz she was still feeling from the alcohol. “Where do I put my hands?”

“Not there,” Trini laughed, when Kim had readily placed her hands on the yellow ranger’s ass.

She repositioned Kim’s hands to the correct position on her waist, grinning wide when she noticed Kim’s face was now red, “that’s better,” she said, leading Kim into a slow two step back and forth, with mild swaying, “maybe if we continue with these lessons I’ll teach you the kind of dances where you can actually grab my ass.”

Kim nodded her agreement quickly at that, “yeah, alright, I’m into it, sounds good.”

This time, the shorter ranger blushed, laughing to explain the slight red tinge on her face.

When they gained a steady rhythm, Kim spoke up again, now confident she could multi-task the simple dance with talking, “it’s a more vanilla form of dancing than I’m used to, but I’ll admit, this is pretty nice.”

“Right? Perfect for like, talking, and shit,” Trini agreed, her head now nestled in the crook of Kim’s neck.

Kim nodded her head yes, but realizing that the shorter girl couldn’t see it, she voiced her agreement, “yeah, is this a plan you had?” she murmured, Trini feeling the vibrations on her cheek, “did you wanna talk to me about something?”

For a moment, they were just dancing in silence, Trini trying to pick her next words carefully.

“Honestly? Yeah,” she said finally, breaking the silence, “today, when we almost fucking died, I was so… Sad when my life flashed before my eyes, because I hadn’t done everything I wanted to do.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Trini laughed nervously, swallowing hard to get the next words out, “like tell you how hot you are.”

Kim smiled then, her lips pressed against Trini’s head, “that’s okay, I already know that.”

“Besides the point,” Trini said, clearing her throat so she could continue in a clearer voice, “You’re also… Cute, and insufferable-- I can’t help but be kind of into it.”

“Okay, I get cute a lot less, but I’ll take the compliment.”

“Kim, shut up, I’m trying to talk,” she laughed, her nerves calming themselves more with Kim’s easy-going humour to punctuate every sentence.

“Okay, okay, my bad, go on.”

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to muster up the courage to finish her thoughts. She’d already come this far, and it was pretty obvious where the conversation was headed here, so what was the use now in chickening out?

“I’m just saying, I didn’t wanna die without telling you I might have feelings for you.”

There was another pause then, Kim pulling back to properly read Trini’s face, trying to figure out if she was being serious.

Trini stared back in defiance, not wanting to look weak, even though she felt it. She prepared herself for the pink ranger’s answer with her head held high. She was pretty sure it was a two way street-- they’d been flirting for weeks, but there was always the chance that she could’ve been reading everything wrong.

“ Might?” Kim questioned, a trace of humour in her voice, “where’s the certainty? Because I know I have feelings for you, and the good kind.”

She let out a sigh of relief then, “okay,” she chuckled, the weight of her world now completely off her shoulders, “I definitely have the good kind for you too.”

“So why are we still talking then?”

Trini stared back at Kim then, or the girl who also seemed to have more-than-friendly feelings for her too, in confusion. “What?”

Kim shrugged, “we know where we both stand, so I’m just gonna go for it.”

“What?”

And then they were kissing for the first time. It was short, a little sloppy from the built up tension and eagerness, but it wasn’t anything less than perfect.

“Nice,” Kim grinned, and Trini laughed at her less-than-impressive word choice.

“Maybe one more go,” she answered back, leading them to the start of their series of ‘nice’ kisses.

-

She kicked at his legs, hoping to throw Zack off guard, but he jumped over the assault, smiling smugly at her, only to meet an intense glare etched onto her face.

“Trini-?” He started, but was interrupted when she snarled, growing more frustrated when she couldn’t land any more hits-- it wasn’t that he was choosing to only dodge and not fight back, but that her movements were growing more and more impulsive, and less calculated. Despite being the most reckless fighter on the team, it was obvious she was throwing hits at random.

The black ranger frowned when he narrowly dodged a kick to his neck, the movement too rough to be considered safe for training.

Then, she aimed an unguarded punch at his chest, and, out of sheer muscle memory, Zack dodged the punch, and rushed behind her, throwing her down roughly-- only, because of the sudden momentum, she’d been hit harder than normal.

“Jesus!” Jason yelled, sounding far away.

She didn’t really register much in the yelling, gathering that Jason was scolding Zack while Zack screamed back his apologies, and Billy loudly yelled out information he thought was helpful.

The memory in her head had felt so vivid, so real, and mindlessly brushed her fingertips over her lips as if Kim had just kissed her.  Usually, it was times like these, when the boys were being idiots and loud that Kim and her would share a look, and then sneak off to make out, or just spend some time together. She felt helpless, not being able to go to the person she wanted to the most.

Suddenly, another shot of frustration ran through her system, remembering how she’d known there was always the risk of dying, but still not having told Kim everything she’d wanted to, like how she didn’t know how she could survive without her.

“Trini?” Zack said, a comforting hand now on her shoulder. When they’d stopped yelling, she wasn’t sure, but she hated the way the three of them were now crouched around her, looking concerned, like she might break at any second.

“Fuck off,” she muttered, roughly shrugging Zack’s hand off her shoulder.

She stood up then, moving back to her starting place in the middle of the ring.

“Um,” Jason started, once he’d realized she meant to go back into sparring, “maybe we should hold off training another time.”

Trini shook her head no then, waiting for one of them to join her in the ring. She didn’t care who, she just knew they couldn’t stop training. “We can’t. If there’s another attack, we won’t be ready, and someone is gonna die like Kim did because we neglected training again.”

The boys visibly flinch at the mention of Kim, and she almost scoffs, until she realizes that she’s crying when she can’t see properly anymore.

“Trini, it’s no use thinking like that,” Billy said, surprising Zack and Jason when he spoke. He wasn’t usually very good at speaking about delicate topics.

“Yeah, c’mon, we aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re like this,” Jason tacked on, suddenly finding his voice again after Billy had spoken, “I promise we will do double the training next week, but for now, you need to cool down.”

She sighed and stood up into her normal stance then, turning to look at the red ranger. Her eyes shifted over to look at Zack’s scared and guilty face, and she suddenly felt tired. It was like the anger inside her died.

“Fine,” she conceded, figuring she must look a mess with the tears on her face not yet completely dry, “Whatever. See you guys later.”

They stared at her in pity as she left the cave, and she tried not to explode again, instead shutting her eyes tightly and accepting her exhaustion.

-

She’d had a hard time sleeping ever since Rita’s attack, but Kim had always been there to help her with that. With Kim gone, it was almost impossible to even close her eyes.

Trying to think of happy thoughts, her brain had suddenly brought back the memory of when Kim had climbed through her window for the first time, before their ranger connection had even formed.

Her eyes started to water again, thinking back to how she’d wasted time pushing Kim away because she’d been so used to being alone .

-

She’d just woken up from a nightmare where Rita was back in her room, seemingly ready to kill her, when a flash of pink movement from her window caught her attention, urging her to hastily turn her back against the intruder.

“Jesus, T, are you the one freaking out? Because I haven’t felt an emotion this deep yet with the others except from you- shit, are you okay?”

Trini nodded quickly then, not trusting her voice to come out clear. She turned around so Kim couldn’t see the tears on her face as the taller girl landed softly onto the carpeted floor.

A few footsteps, and then a warm hand on her shoulder, “T?” Kim questioned, clearly not having seen the head nod.

She coughed, trying to clear her throat so she sounded better than she felt, “yeah, I’m good.”

Fuck, she thought, realizing her voice had given her away from the obvious tremor in it.

“You don’t sound okay.”

“I’m- fuck,” Trini cursed again, this time out loud, “I’m fine. Can you just leave?”

There was the sound of two footsteps-- one further away, and then one closer. Then a silence. Not even a sound of rustling to indicate that Kim had decided to follow her very clear instructions.

“Kim? God, fuck off,” Trini angrily said, not caring anymore about her puffy face, as she turned around to fully face the other girl.

Kim shifted on her feet again, looking visibly uncomfortable and shy as she spoke the next words. “I would, but I can’t sleep,” she said, not even looking terrified at the glare Trini had sent her way, “alone, at least.”

Trini nodded, her harsh defensiveness evaporating into nothingness. Where Kim had Tommy Oliver, a guy she’d trusted enough into her own bedroom, only to attempt to murder her in her sleep, Trini had Rita. It was understandable why she couldn’t sleep alone anymore.

“I get it,” the yellow ranger said, moving over in her bed so that there was room for Kim. She raised the blankets up, inviting Kim to join her.

She hesitated, unsure if the usually closed off and restrained girl was sure about allowing her to share a bed with her.

When Trini only nodded her affirmation, Kim sighed in relief, her body visibly relaxing as she slid into the other side of the bed.

There was still a sizeable distance between them, Kim not wanting to cross any boundaries by touching the other girl, only for Trini to shoot down those thoughts.

“Kim?” Trini whispered in the dark, clearly still unable to sleep.

“Yeah?”

“Can you-”

But Trini’s question was interrupted, when Kim flipped over to face her, closing the distance between their bodies to spoon the smaller girl. Then, as an afterthought, she snaked her hand over to Trini’s front, holding onto Trini’s hand.

“Thanks.”

The pink ranger hummed in response, and only let herself fall asleep when she heard the steady, rhythmic breathing from Trini.

-

Trini stared blankly at her ceiling, the scene replaying over and over in her head. Moving her hand to wipe the tears away from her face, she was mildly surprised to see that it came out dry.

Shifting onto her side, she glanced quickly at the clock on her nightstand, the red numbers blinking, 3:01AM . She hadn’t had a proper night of sleep in the last two weeks, and it was really starting to take a toll on her health.

“Wow, still can’t sleep, huh?” An all too familiar voice said, in the same teasing lilt she always spoke in when she was alive.

Trini sat up quickly, her eyes immediately landing on her window by her desk to watch someone climb into her window like it was routine. “Kim?”

But it wasn’t really Kim. She was pale, kind of translucent, but in the clothes she died in; her leather jacket with the pink strappy top, and black jeans.

“Um, yeah, who else?” Kim asked, giving her a smirk as she raised one brow at the shorter girl, her feet landing softly onto the floor.

Trini rubbed her eyes in bewilderment, convinced the lack of sleep was making her see things. “But… You’re dead.”

“No shit,” she chuckled, walking the same path she always did to her side of Trini’s bed.

“This… Can’t be real. I’m sleep deprived, aren’t I?”

Kim’s form only solidified more, going from translucent to almost fully opaque. “I don’t know, babe. Haven’t been here for the last couple weeks, remember? Which I am sorry for, by the way.”

“You’re��� Not- Jesus,” Trini mumbled, unable to believe that this was really happening.

“Right. Not Jesus. Just Kim,” she joked, still only standing next to her assigned side, instead of joining her girlfriend/ex-girlfriend.

Trini shook her head then, still unable to process the situation, “I’m going- fuck,” she laughed, not in humour, but self pity, “I’m going fucking crazy.”

“Aw, babe, yeah, you’re crazy, but not because of this,” Kim cooed, and it seemed as though she was about to touch her, only to hide the movement by running her hands through her hair, “I’m real, trust me-- just touch me.”

Kim’s body flickered in and out of opacity, her quick changes in form almost dizzying Trini.

“No, this is ridiculous.”

The pink ranger rolled her eyes, slightly annoyed, “c’mon Trini, can you just touch me? Not even in a naughty way?”

“Why?” Trini asked, still completely bewildered, “wouldn’t my hand just go through you?”

“Yeah, but only if you don’t really believe I’m here.”

“... Why?” She repeated again, wanting answers.

“Oh my God, just do it.”

Trini almost asked ‘why’ again, but realizing it wasn’t going anywhere, just stared blanky at Kim.

Sighing in exasperation, Kim grabbed the pillow off her side, and threw it across the room.

“What the fuck,” Trini muttered, eyes wide, “how?”

“I’m Kimberly Hart, babe,” she said, looking smug as her form finally solidified to fully opacity, “I’m not dead to you unless I say I’m dead.”

Then Trini chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. Suddenly, the laughing turned into crying, and Kim’s eyes widened.

“K-Kim,” she stuttered out, swiping tears out of her eyes as she reached over to touch her girlfriend. She was shocked to find that Kim felt real and even alive.

Kim finally moved to sit beside her on the bed, and Trini’s shock only increased when she felt the bed dip lower, “wow, relax,” Kim murmured, hugging Trini to her chest, “I know I’m hilarious, but this is a little bit much, isn’t it?”

“B-but you’re d-dead,” Trini sobbed, still laughing and crying.

“We already went through, this, sweetie.”

“But I saw you di-die,” she said, her voice muffled against Kim’s chest, “I literally begged for you to not die.”

“You know I love hearing you beg.”

Trini pulled away then, so that she could glare at her.

“I’m- uh,” Kim said, awkwardly scratching the back of her head, “too soon?”

The yellow ranger rolled her eyes playfully at Kim, going back to nestle her head into Kim’s chest, and laid them down into a horizontal position.

“I missed you so much.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep.”

Kim chuckled, “I know.”

“But you’re here now.”

“Yeah, so you should sleep now,” the taller girl said, now taking hold of Trini’s hand.

She wanted to stay awake, in case this ghost version of Kim wasn’t real, and she was just imagining her. But Kim’s hand felt so real in her own, and so did the body radiating heat while holding her, and she couldn’t seem to fight her drooping eyes anymore.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kim said, as if she could read Trini’s thoughts.

She wasn’t crazy. If she had a proper amount of sleep tonight, and still saw Kim tomorrow night, then she would go see a psychologist. But for now, she was going to take advantage of her hallucinations.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

[megcapulet]

Mine

Who - Oz and Megan

When - Thursday 7th December, evening

Where - Oz’s penthouse

Notes - Oz and Megan discuss their relationship.

@ozmontague

Megan had seen the announcement by the prince and of course it was all anyone wanted to talk about. However it was seeing her name alongside Oz's on talk about claims that made everything so real for her. She came home from work and changed into a long sweatshirt. She curled up on the couch, tucking her legs under her and pulling her sleeves over her hands and waited, well aware that they needed to talk. The television rattled on until she finally heard the door open and she stayed where she was until he came through to her.

Oz was surprised when he entered and Megan's bright face did not appear. He strolled through, looking around as he did so and yet still no Megan. Finally he found her in the tv room, curled up and ... to his surprised completely dressed. "Well you do know how to make a point Megan." he murmured as his gaze ran over her. He did not approach any further, aware that an uncomfortable conversation was looming. He considered which drivers were left on duty by Nox and which he trusted to see her home safely. This was certainly not his damn year.

Megan tipped her head and looked at him in confusion. "A point Master?" she asked. Kneeling up on the couch she looked over, "Why are you standing over there? I won't bite...not without permission anyway." Muddled as she was feeling she couldn't help the way her heart leapt at seeing him and if he didn't come over she would have to go to him.

Oz stepped around the broad couch to see himself on the deep leather chair he favoured. "Please have a seat Megan. You are dressed and well ... here.... so clearly something is on your mind. So you may as well share before ...." he finished with a soft sigh.

Megan looked at him with sad eyes as she realised what he thought. "No, no, that's not what I was thinking at all. I'm dressed because I want to talk to you properly. I just didn't feel right being naked." Her words tailed off as she has clearly misjudged everything. "I didn't think you would mind that I put on a sweater for once but if it is a problem I can remove it." She pushed her hair back from her face and moved so she was kneeling at his feet, "What do you think of the new decree? We have never mentioned it."

Oz waved a hand, dismissing the offer to disrobe. He didn't touch her as she came to kneel before him but he was comforted by the greater proximity. "The new decree? The old decree? They are both disasters." Oz sighed. "I hate that this burden falls on the young and unclaimed in the family, this pressure. It is just so unfair and I can't find a way to get the family out of this one. I have no doubt your Lady is equally displeased."

Megan 's eyes settled on his face as he spoke. She was saddened that he made no move to touch her but in some ways it was probably a good thing since it was clear the matter effected him greatly and she didn't want to add to that. "Lady Beatrice hasn't said too much other than she doesn't want anyone to panic and rush into something. Adriana's death has spooked a lot of people though and it is unfortunate nobody was caught quickly so there could be an end to the all the rumors and speculation."

Oz nodded. It was understandable. The timing could not be worse, not so shortly after the incident with Sebastian and the young Capulet boy. Damn it. "It is far to say that this has put a new pressure on the holiday season. So why this particular conversation at this particular moment?" He smiled a little sadly, balancing his elbows on his knees to lean toward her, "Is this your way of letting me know you have no intention of being one of those three?"

Megan shook her head urgently at his question, "No, no my Lord, you misunderstand me." She knelt up a bit taller, her eyes wide in earnest as she took a moment to centre herself before she spoke. "We have been moving towards something for a while now and as I told you before I want nothing more than to be yours. I must confess that the new decree threw me because I thought we would have a lot more time but I have had a few days to think about it and if it is something you want too then we should talk." Tipping her head to the side she gave him a slight smile, "I suppose I want to know if you want to take this further too....and not just to satisfy the prince but because you truly want me."

Oz nodded at her words, years of practice masking the relief her words brought, even though that relief also brought with it a prickle of temper. He hated weakness in himself and his vulnerability with this submissive was a weakness he could not quantify and he disliked it. Oz tipped his head to match hers and met her bright eyes, "I am a man of some years Megan. I have never been tempted by the idea of claim. Not until I met you." The words were soft but the tone a little grumpy. Admitting such things grated despite his better intentions. "Is that enough for you? Am I enough for you? I am not a good man Megan and you are, in fact, a good woman. Is this .... life ... what you truly want? It has to be more than me. There is a position to consider. A life circumscribed by my notoriously rowdy family."

Megan couldn't hide the grin that spread over her lips at his words. "I want you," she said simply. "I never feel more fulfilled and contented than when I am with you....and I'm really not that good Master. I can be very naughty at times." Flashing a cheeky grin at him as she was all too easily able to think of being naughty with him she wriggled forward a fraction more so she was almost leaning against his leg. "I trust you completely and there are few that I trust so much. I want to be there when things are good and when you are troubled. Let me be the one that can support you whatever is thrown at you."

Oz couldn't resist reaching out with gentle fingertips to trace one ivory cheek. He chuckled softly. "That is not the kind of good I am talking about ... I have done many things and I confess that I am not ashamed of them ... only to the extent that I know you would not approve. Are you able to tolerate life as my claim? To become a Montague? To accept .... all of them and not just the ones of good breeding. To protect even the foolish ones when they behave badly and it would be easier to toss them out that help them do better, be better. Is that something you can see for your life?" Each word was gruffly spoken as if pulled from some secret space where he had been hiding them. "Or are we better just as lovers?"

Megan felt her good humor fade as he spoke again until he reached his final question and she looked up with hurt in her eyes. "I'm not a fool. I know the reputation of many of the Montague family, I've seen the evidence., hell I've treated enough of the injuries on both sides. I may be a Capulet but I don't believe for a minute that my family is as pure as some would pretend. People make mistakes and hopefully learn from them. There are varying levels of mistakes but everyone deserves the chance to redeem themselves." She glanced up at him, "I don't think you are an angel .....but I can't just be your lover. I need you more than that." Her lip curled with mirth, "I mean the sex is wonderful but I'm not prepared to settle for that when I know how much better it could be."

Oz sighed softly as he traced her jaw and up to her full bottom lip. "And the rest of the Montagues? Can you ever see them as family? All of them?" He was pushing but it was important. Too important. People kept talking about how they were the same. Even if he tried to maintain that fiction. But it was true. No other family would have admitted someone like him or Nox to its ranks. No other family would have taken in so many of those who had nothing, who needed help. He wasn't prepared to walk away from that one crucial difference that really made the Montagues different from every other family in Verona. If she couldn't see Jace, Nat or Tru as family, could he claim her? No. The thought was painful, so much so that he wanted to drop this line of questioning and pretend. But he was never much good at pretence. Not with himself. His core was too painfully honest, even with himself. He had blood on his hands, that was true. Only a portion of the Montagues business interests were legal. A significant portion but still. But he owed it to his family to make sure that all of them were welcome and would continue to be so.

Oz: wasn't* true.

Megan was confused by this continuing line of questioning. She sat back down her bottom and looked at him in consideration. "I have to be honest, I don't know a great number of the Montague family but I cannot imagine why they would be difficult to accept. I mean Sebastian is not my favorite person because I don't believe Sampson deserved what he got but Valeria is nice, when she is not bombarding me with questions and I like Sir Nox. I know Sin and I've met Miss Tru before and I like both of them. I imagine it is like joining any new family through a claim, there are those that you will naturally grow closer to than others but I can't imagine why I wouldn't get along with most people." She looked up at him again not sure what else she could say that might alleviate his concerns.

Oz sighed. It wasn't quite what he meant but he felt like his words were failing him. He suddenly wished he and Beatrice were better friends so he could see how she addressed the matter. Then again, if rumors were true, she and her claim had known each other since they were children. Also this problem likely didn't exist in the Capulet family. Damn it. He nodded at her words. "Thank you for your honesty Megan. I appreciate it." He leaned back in his chair. The weight of this decision felt heavy on his shoulders. He paused and considered another potentially thorny topic, although he clearly wasn't satisfied with the resolution to the first one, "Do you want to have children Megan?"

Megan felt as if the moment was slipping away from her and yet she had done nothing but answer his questions as best she could. His next question was another difficult one in her eyes but he was right to address it and she felt as if saying she wasn't sure would not go down well. "I suppose I have always considered that I will have them one day but as time goes on I don't feel the desperate panic of my biological clock ticking by. Maybe because I have been so focussed on getting my qualification. I have been pretty single minded for a good number of years to get qualified but now I have done that so now I am starting to think about things like having a family. I'm not in a rush though. I have quite a few years left and I don't feel at all ready for a baby." With a heavy heart she looked at him again. "What about you my Lord, do you want your own children?" she asked making a distinction between the family members that relied on him and his own child.

Oz nodded at her response. "I am older than you by ... about a decade I am guessing." he conceded softly. "If we were to claim and you did, in fact, want to have children biologically then I would want to do it sooner than later. However, I have many young ones in this family that I have watched become adults and feel very ... paternal towards. I don't feel an inordinate compulsion to have a particular biological link to a child." He thought of Evie for a moment, the girl who felt like a daughter, and was only in the family to hide and punish her own family for their failings, real or imagined. The thought was still bitter. "I suppose if there were no children your work would continue to thrive unabated. That is clearly very important to you." The last was not an attempt at disparagement. He respected Megan's commitment and passion for her work.

Megan could understand his reasoning and accepted what he said. "My work is important to me and I have spent many years getting to this stage. I think the best way I can put it is if I were in a claim and I got pregnant then I would be happy and adjust to the change however I don't feel I am desperate for a baby. Perhaps I will feel differently once a claim is agreed but I am not sitting here in tears because I have past thirty and don't have one." Perhaps she considered the reality was they were both in a similar thought pattern about this, even if coming from different angles. Contemplating what he said about the young ones in the Montague family she wondered if that was what he had been trying to get at earlier. "My Lord, the younger members of your family, are you worried that I will be jealous of your relationship with them? If that is the case then I can assure you that will not be an issue. It is similar to how I view some of my patients. You go through so much with them, the highs and the very low points and at the end you feel an affection for them and want to keep them safe and secure and happy."

Oz nodded appreciatively and acknowledged that given their mutual inclinations, children were unlikely. Since he had let go of that idea many years ago it didn't trouble him overly. "Jealous no? No that is not the word." he murmured in reply. The analogy of patient and medical practitioner felt off as well. He didn't like it but he wasn't sure how to express the reality. He realized then that this was likely the best he could hope for he supposed. She wouldn't view them as family but perhaps his expectation was too high there. Perhaps viewing them as a patient was good enough. She was a Capulet after all. Not arrogant, not cold, and not a snob, no. But this wasn't how she viewed family. How could she understand that Jace's disappointment in him cut deeply? That seeing Tru healthy, flirtatious and doing so well lifted his heart. That watching as Nat fell in love with that pretty boy who danced filled him with joy because there had been times he wasn't sure that the younger man would win his battle with his addiction and that he would bury Nat all too young, all that promise and intelligence defeated and lost. He wondered if this was why Montagues tended to stay close in terms of claim. Who else would understand them? Who would understand that being family meant he knew he could count on Nat to watch out for Jace? That Sin and Tru would help that same young man understand what it meant to be a healthy submissive? Even the prickly members of the family - Abel, Sebastian, and the unpredictable Theo, could be counted on when it came to family? That this bond was so much deeper than blood. He was lost in his thoughts and he was grateful for Megan's thick sweater and physical distance. He was ruthlessly trying to hold onto this practical discussion and not be distracted by his attraction and yes, he could admit it to himself, love for this woman. "So it seems we will not be having children. I am sure some of the others will provide some little ones to dote on should we feel so inclined. But I must ask .... What do you envision your life to be like as my claim Megan? What do you see changing in your relationship with the rest of the Montagues? Or do you not see that as something that would be part of your life?" Would he have two lives? One with Megan and one with the rest of his family? That seemed untenable in the long term.

Megan couldn't help but think to herself this was not at all how she had expected their talk to go. To a point she was getting the information that realistically she needed and he was being so perfectly practical in his questioning, the important matters out in the open but she felt on trial. A nagging feeling deep inside her that he was almost looking for reasons not to pursue something with her where she thought there was more. Her gaze lifted as he asked what she expected. She took a few moments before she answered, it seemed as though what she envisaged was perhaps the rose tinted version of what he would expect. "Much of it depends on how you would need me. Ideally I don't want to give up my work although I would be willing to cut back my hours if that were needed. I want to continue to take care of you as I have been doing and offering you support when you need it and company when you don't. I would expect my relationship with the rest of the Montague family to change greatly. I need to get to know them all properly and I imagine they would want to know me." She sighed softly, "I want to be a proper part of your life, to know those who are important to you and in time to be someone that they can speak to as much as you."

Oz nodded as she spoke. Her words were reassuring and he appreciated that she saw herself as part of the family, as his partner in the family as well as personally. "I don't want you to give up anything to be with me Megan. I ... " No the word wasn't yet ready to come out yet, " .... care for you far too much to take away anything that is important to you." It was clear that this ambitious, hard-working woman would be hard to reconcile at times with the softer submissive he saw in her. They were two sides to her that he would have to respect. Hard work for a prickly man used to getting his own way. "And would you be a Montague or would you prefer to continue to remain a Capulet?"

Megan meant what she said, she would cut back her hours if it came to it but she was happy to hear him say that wasn't necessary. His question was one she had already considered although she doubted he would appreciate her answer. "Professionally I must stay as a Capulet but away from work I had assumed I would become a Montague." Megan felt she needed to clear up something of her own, "My family are very important to me and will remain so. You would always be my first priority and I meant every word about getting to know and care about the Montague family but that doesn't mean I give up my parents or my brothers or my close friends within the Capulet family."

Oz sighed. He honestly didn't like the idea of her remaining a Capulet even if it were just at work. Something he would need to work on. "I don't expect you to give them up. That is not what I am seeking ... but loyalty matters Megan. I need to know if it came down to it ... if your loyalties were tested, that events would fall in my favor. As I am Head of the family, it becomes even more important that I am not perceived as weak, which means Beatrice would no longer your Lady. You would be a Montague. Is that something you can live with? Would you be able to be loyal to me, even if you disagreed with my decision on something?"

Megan was struggling to tell if they were making progress or not. He did at least seem to be talking more in terms of her being with him so perhaps they were getting somewhere. She paused for a moment not wanting him to feel she was rushing the conversation about a matter that was so crucial. "If I am in a claim with you then you and your family become my primary concern. Regardless of my personal opinion you are the one I would follow in all matters and I certainly hope I am a good enough submissive that there would be no question of punishments or anything like that. You have my loyalty Master, you have had for a while now and I would never purposefully do anything to embarrass you." She twisted her fingers together, "I may have strong opinions on things but I know how and when to keep my mouth closed."

Oz smiled softly, "And I fully expect that I will hear those opinions but in privacy ... or with close confidantes that you can trust?" He touched her cheek again. "I don't want you to feel diminished Megan. I don't want becoming a Montague to be a loss for you." After all what he could he give her. Not money since that didn't seem to interest her. Not children. She didn't seem to particularly desire those with him. Did she truly want a rather bad man with a murky childhood and a messy complicated family to watch out for? By all the gods he couldn't help but think the woman was making a poor bargain.

Megan laughed gently at his words. "You will hear my opinions when it is an appropriate time and yes in privacy. Possibly even yelled before I storm off and then come crawling back having calmed down." Shaking her head at the idea of her losing out Megan wanted him to understand. "I have been with plenty of Dominants but I have never called one Master before. I have never felt the pull to have a conversation like this and if six months ago someone had told me I would be permanently bruised and kneel naked every evening for Lord Montague of all people I would have thought they were crazy. Things change and here we are and I have never been happier. I will still visit my family and I hope you will get to know them in the same way I will get to know Valeria and Sir Nox more but beyond that you are what is important to me. You are what I want and I can't explain what exactly it is that I desire but I know that you are it." She looked down to the ground and feeling rather flustered as she finished speaking. She was done, she had said what she needed to say and now it was up to him. It would hurt a lot to walk away now, there was no doubt about that so she hoped it wouldn't actually come to that.

Oz smiled sadly, "Valeria doesn't consider me much of a family worth respecting any longer. I doubt you will be much troubled by her again." The Dominant sighed but this time with pleasure. Her words were a balm that he could not describe. "Then I suppose the question is ... are you willing to be one of the three? To be claimed by the turn of the year, and not because of the prince's words but because you wish to be claimed by me Megan Capulet?"

Megan 's smile lit up the room at this question. She had grown so fond of him and his gruffness to the point she would almost say she loved him, but she was also sure it was too early to think that. "Yes.....yes I wish to be claimed by you and because I want to be yours regardless of anything the prince says." She knelt up tall again, moving closer to him before laughing, "Oh and yes I'm very willing to be one of the three."

Oz didn't waste further time with words. He slid one hand through that fall of dark hair, tugging her close and into a deep, wrenching kiss. He growled against her mouth as he slipped his hand under the soft sweater she had used to cover herself. Long fingers explored her skin until he could tease over her core. He broke the kiss and met her eyes with a fierce possessive gaze. "You are mine now Megan. Do not forget this. Mine. And I am yours."

[dnteverdoubtme]

The Choice of Violence

Game of Thrones!verse (a sequel of sorts, taking place at King’s Landing after the events of Growing Strong) Warnings: mature content, blood and gore, violence

There was an undeniable imbalance between fighting a battle close to home and one far into enemy territory. For Alexander it was the difference between the well known rocky grounds of the Westerlands and the snow covered plains up north, the difference between an easy victory and unknown struggle.

Being in King’s Landing with Jace felt by all means like threading through a blizzard.

They found it impossible to stay away from each other for long, all talks of propriety thrown to the wind in such a short time from their arrival Alec would laugh about it the matter wasn’t so serious.

Three nights, that’s all it took. Three days of stolen looks and fleeting touches as Jonathan got himself acclimated with the life at court, and all of three nights until Alec heard his unmistakable voice outside his chamber’s door.

“I need to speak with my brother,” he demanded, entitlement dripping from his voice just as it would be if they had been back at Casterly Rock.

It wasn’t home, and the need for silence and secrecy was far greater than it would have been back then. But Jace’s body felt just as good and his wanton moans, in the face of secrecy, tasted all the sweeter.

They had even more to lose at the capital, so it should come as no surprise that the daredevil in Alexander instantly fell in love with it.    

There was no talk of it and yet it was settled, their affair would continue inside the walls of the Red Keep. The walls might have ears and it was no secret that little birds roamed the halls, but Alec knew the inner workings of the palace and, when it came to politics, his brother was a force to be reckoned with other Lords would soon know of.

With that one mind, one would have to be quite foolish to confront them on their affair and, so far, they had been getting away with it quite seamlessly.

Unfortunately, it would seem foolishness took form in the shape of one Lord Horace of House Dearborn, an expressionless man that Alexander would take no notice of if he hadn’t dared stepping directly into their path.

It wasn’t a planned encounter, but rather by chance that he and Jonathan had found each other in one of the Keep’s many gardens, the drawn of their meeting gazes quite difficult to deny. Alec didn’t do more than graze his brother’s fingers with his own, warmth swelling in his chest over the promise held inside mismatched eyes.

“Later,” Jace teased, promptly pulling his hand back.

One fleeting touch, that was all, but as any good player would know: sometimes one wrong move was all it took.

Lord Dearborn stood at the entrance to the garden flanked by two of his banner-men, the smug twinkle in his eyes reminiscent of the time Jace himself had walked in on Alexander’s tryst with Justin Oakthorn. No one was on their knees this time (a small mercy), but Horace still smirked like he’d won a duel – petulant, in Alec’s opinion, for a man who’s sword had never seen real blood.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Dearborn spoke with the air of someone who by all means had looked for this.

Jace steps forward immediately and his expression is stormy and calculating, the sort of dark gaze Alec wouldn’t mind having aimed upon him only because he enjoyed the pain that came with it.

“Lord Dearborn,” he drawled, far more reverent than the man deserves him to be, “I must say I have no idea of what you could possibly be referring to.”

The man barely lets him finish. “Surely we all knew about him,” he began, square chin raised in Alexander’s direction. One of his banner-men snorted at the jab and Alec made a point to gaze at his face. “But I believed the heir to house Lightwood would be smart enough not to follow in his brother’s deviant ways.”

Jonathan was poised to say something in response to that, he always has something to say, but Alec didn’t wait on him this time, the offense still bubbling under his skin and tightening his fingers at the hilt of his sword, white cloak rustling against the leaves on the ground as he took a step forward.

Horace barely looked at him, and Alec noticed how he didn’t even reach for his own ornate blade, far too confident on having the upper hand on the situation.

“Tell your blood hound to step aside, Lord Lightwood, or I’m afraid there will be violence,” he demanded.

It was the wrong thing to say, Alec was sure of it, one look at Jace’s cheshire-like grin and the only certainty the knight had was that Lord Dearborn would direly regret his words. His brother might have been poised to say something, to defuse, but that was before. If Horace only had asked, Alec would have told him threatening Jonathan was never a good idea.

“In that case, I choose violence,” his brother decided, taking a step to the side to fully give Alec passage.

He knew Alexander would move the moment he spoke, unflinching as a dagger flew over his shoulder and buried itself on the neck of one of the guards – a swift death to the one who had known his place – the other one would have to suffer a bit more. Fighting a member of the King’s Guard would be enough of a punishment any day, and the fact it only took Alec two blows to disarm his opponent merely added insult to injury.

A blade held to the throat should be enough of a victory on its own, but Alexander had no qualms on slicing through the man’s throat, eyes glinting as his victim helplessly clutched at his neck and gasped while choking on his own blood. 

“Try to laugh now, cunt,” he spat.

That only left the matter of Dearborn to be addressed, the lord looking awfully pale with a splatter of his man’s blood staining his face, his brown eyes as wide as saucers. Alec might have been the one doing the killing, but Jace looked by all means like a predator ready to strike as he approached the poor fool. 

“I’ll usually be the first to admit there is power in knowledge, Lord Dearborn, but you have to agree there is something to be said for the use of raw strength.” Jonathan’s monologue had his usual self-appreciating tone to it, but the way he eyed Alec as he spoke of violence was nothing short of filthy. His brother had a speck of blood on his neck and Jace wanted to lick it.

“Power is power,” Jace decided at last, “And if you ever threaten me or anyone in my family again I can assure you my brother will be the least of your concerns. How would the king react, after all, if he knew of your plotting to marry your daughter into the northern houses without his consent? Not to mention that lovely lady you bought a house for just outside of King’s Landing.”

If Alec had thought Horace looked pale before it was nothing compared to how he looked now having Jonathan wrapping him around his finger with almost no effort. It was a hand the young lord haven’t intended to play just yet, proving he had done his homework and not just spent all of his available time with his legs wrapped around Alexander’s hips. There was a power game to be played inside the walls of the Red Keep, and Jace didn’t intend to reveal himself a contender, but alas he had. 

All Alexander thought of it was how delicious his brother looked while scheming, briefly wondering if this was the same rush Jace felt watching him fight. Unbeknownst to him the two looked quite the same while admiring each other. 

“You and I will be good friends, Lord Dearborn,” Jace offered like a king extending the mantle of mercy, “For now, however, it would be wise to train your guards a little better, less they fight each other in your presence again and risk hurting you. Alexander won’t be always present to intervene so readily.” 

It was Alec’s turn to snort in amusement, the stricken lord’s nod perfectly tying in the joke as he attempted to bow out his leave and staggered back, having tripped on one of his fallen men. 

The knight could barely hold his laughter, and the only think that kept him from straight out bursting into it was the bright pain across his cheek as Jace slapped him for it, reaching for the collar of his shirt and tugging him down so that they could be eye to eye. 

“What are you laughing at?” he chided in an utterly exasperated tone, “This is all your fault! If you weren’t such an unrestrained beast-- ”

Alec kissed him, whatever Jace meant complained about next swallowed into a wanton moan as he held on even harder and licked his way into his brother’s mouth. Maybe they were fighting in the snow by being there and risking so much, but Alec could have sworn he had never felt warmer. 

[singingwordwright]

Gorgeous cover art courtesy of @beyondthehunt Originally betaed by @roseglass with some final (eventual) copy-editing by @bonibaru

A Separate Peace (sequel to One Easy Answer) a Malec AU by @maleccrazedauthor

(Also on AO3)

Chapters: 14/28 Word Count: 104,900 Rating: Mature Premise: Arranged Marriage AU, Canon Divergent starting at Ep 1x12

(Please See Chapter List for Notes and Summary)

“I don’t understand,” Alec said, frowning at Dot. Magnus could see the consequences of his harrowing day in the shadows under his husband’s eyes and the tight corners of a mouth that was usually much softer. He wondered again if he’d been too hard on Alec; had Alec merely been a stand-in for Magnus’s resentment toward the Clave, or had it been justified?

He kept swinging back and forth between remorse and fury, like a weather vane in high wind. Right now there was just no time to sit with himself and pick through it all, pluck the threads of reason and fairness out of his emotional tangle.

“We already talked about the fact that Clary would need extra security in the event that Valentine’s people heard the rumors about the Mirror. Now you want to go retrieve it with just her and Jace?”

“Clary has to come,” Dot explained. “I’ll only give the Mirror to her. Jace is for added muscle.”

Imogen Herondale looked distinctly displeased with this arrangement. “And if I refuse permission for Ms. Fairchild to go on this mission?”

“Then you don’t get the Mirror at all,” Magnus interjected quickly. “The spell Dot gave Jocelyn to conceal it also ensures that it can only be transferred by the one who bears the sigil, and then only if that person is willing. If anyone attempts to take it without Dot’s consent, the results will be…highly unpleasant.”

Beside Alec, Jace folded his arms over his chest, making a display of casual confidence that somehow didn’t manage to mask the fact that his newly acquired cloak of authority was exceptionally ill-fitting. “Well, I suppose it’ll be easier to portal in and out without drawing attention to ourselves if we keep the party small.”

“What if you’re heavily outnumbered?” Alec asked with some asperity.

Jace shrugged. “If it comes to a fight, I’m the best one we have to defend Dot and the Mirror.”

“Magnus will be coming, too,” Dot said, her voice reedy and her body hunched in an armchair Magnus had conjured so she wouldn’t have to spend her time there confined to a bed. Her beautiful face was twisted with pain, and Magnus knew exactly what it was costing her not to succumb too soon. “My magic isn’t strong enough to make a portal anymore, so if we need to get out quickly, we have to have him there.”

Alec’s eyes widened and he looked ready to argue again, but the Inquisitor spoke before he could. “The decision rests with your commander, and he has spoken,” she said with a pointed look at Alec. Jace’s face tightened, his jaw clenching as his eyes darted uncomfortably away. The fact that he didn’t speak up to defend Alec lost him a few points in Magnus’s regard.

Alec’s posture grew more rigid. He clasped his hands behind his back and spoke staring straight ahead, addressing a point somewhere above Imogen Herondale’s head. “I understand that, Madame Inquisitor,” he gritted, “but my parabatai and I have always planned strategy together, regardless of who was leading the mission.”

Jace smirked then, and promptly reclaimed those points he’d lost. “You’ve got an idea, Alec?” he said warmly. “Let’s hear it.”

“Decoys. Izzy and I glamour ourselves as you and Clary and leave on foot. After we’ve been gone a while, your party portals out.”

Magnus and Dot shared an alarmed glance. “That would put you and Isabelle in grave danger,” Magnus argued, grasping for plausible objections. “Outnumbered, without backup or means of escape. It could be suicide.”

“Securing the recovery of the Mirror from Valentine’s leftover followers must be our first priority, Mr. Bane,” Herondale said so sanctimoniously that Magnus wanted to blast her through the wall, if for no other reason than she was deliberately maintaining the fiction that it was Valentine’s followers they were concerned about, rather than Valentine himself.

But then, so was Alec.

“Lightwood-Bane, Madame Inquisitor,” Alec said coldly, his gaze still fixed over her head. Magnus glanced at him in astonishment, then ducked his head to hide a smile even his grim mood couldn’t quite suppress.

“Wouldn’t they expect a ploy like that?” Isabelle asked.

Jace shrugged. “They’re Valentine’s followers, not Valentine himself. He recruits them for zealotry and obedience, not brilliance.”

Magnus’s barely-banked rage reared up and he shot Alec a look that should have skewered him where he stood. Alec met Magnus’s stare steadily, then slid a sideways look at Herondale. He discreetly lifted one finger in a silent plea for patience.

“But there is the possibility of Jonathan we have to consider,” Jace continued before Magnus had an opportunity to decide whether to press the issue now or not. “Valentine taught him everything he taught me. We have to assume he’s just as skilled, and far more likely to see through the ruse.”

“I’m sorry, who?” asked the quiet British Shadowhunter Alec had assigned to guard Dot. Sebastian something-or-other.

“My brother,” Clary said. She huddled with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her brows drawn down. “I still don’t agree that he’d necessarily be continuing Valentine’s work. Why would he help that man? After what those journals said Valentine did to him—”

“Well, you always stand by family, though, don’t you?” Sebastian said with an awkward smile. “So of course he’d support his father. United front and all.”

“Exactly,” Jace said. “We all know what Valentine did to me, and he still managed to talk me into doing his bidding one way or the other, more times than I can count. The need to win his approval, his love, as twisted as it was—I can’t describe how warped your thinking gets when he’s got his hooks in you. If Valentine did summon Jonathan back, we have to expect that level of unflinching, unquestioning obedience from him.”

“Tell me again why no one ever stamped a giant silence rune on that man’s forehead?” Clary muttered. Then she dropped her arms and stood a little straighter. “My point is, if Valentine has somehow conned Jonathan into helping him, that’s all the more reason for us to try to un-con him.”

“You saw what Valentine said in the journals about the demon blood,” Jace argued. “The demon who gave it to him told him it would burn all the humanity out of Jonathan. That’s why Valentine banished him, because he was worried it was already happening. He’d committed at least two murders before he was ten, one of whom was a Shadowhunter child.”

“I know,” Clary said, wavering. “I just think we should…make some effort to try to save him, if we can.”

The Inquisitor frowned. “Ms. Fairchild, do not let your sentimentality hamper your ability to do your duty. Anyone who attempts to interfere with our efforts to retrieve the Mirror will be stopped by any means necessary.”

“So we have to deal with two concurrent possibilities,” Alec said, guiding the conversation back around to the point before Clary could go full redhead on Herondale. Did the Inquisitor even notice how effortlessly he took control and brought them back on track, while even Jace was still chasing tangents? “One: Izzy and I may find ourselves outnumbered if Valentine…’s people buy our ruse. Two: the possibility that Jonathan is out there, that he’ll accurately anticipate the diversion, and that he may interfere with efforts to reclaim the Mirror.”

Magnus seethed, at himself as much as Alec. Valentine was the one who was going to set their plans awry, if anyone, and none of these people talking strategy—except for Alec himself—had that crucial information.

At the same time, if Valentine refused to rise to Alec’s bait, so much the better for Magnus’s own plans.

The constant contradiction between what he knew what right and what what most expedient for the plans he and Dot had laid was giving him a headache. Disgusted with himself, he held his silence.

“If Jonathan shows up where we are, I’m definitely the best equipped to deal with him,” Jace was saying with certainty. “I’m more concerned for you and Izzy.”

“What if we had backup?” Isabelle suggested. “We could turn this into the opportunity to set a trap for Valentine’s followers. We choose a destination. Portal as many Shadowhunters there as we can while Alec and me are en route. I could also call Raphael. His vampires might appreciate a chance to take some of the Circle remnants out.”

“And Luke,” Clary added. “The pack still wants blood. Maybe we can’t give them Valentine’s, but dealing with his followers would still be some payback.”

“That could work,” said Sebastian. “Even if they have the Soul Sword, it’s been deactivated, so the Downworlders should have nothing to fear. It could be a chance to seriously deplete the number of Valentine’s followers remaining. And, as Clary says, offer the Downworld a chance at retribution at the same time, which could ease some of the…tensions…you’ve been dealing with.”

“I see no problem with the plan so long as the Downworlders are not told about the Mirror.” Herondale said. “That remains on a strictly need-to-know basis.”

Alec frowned at her. “The only reason we know about the Mirror is because of gossip coming out of a Downworld bar. You really think they don’t already know we’re trying to track it down?”

Jace jumped in quickly, before his grandmother had a chance to take umbrage at her reasoning being challenged. “I’ll talk to Lydia about getting reinforcements ready to portal out once we decide on a location for our diversion team,” he said, his shoulders twitching uncomfortably.

“Let me know when your teams are ready to leave,” Herondale said, and walked out of the room.

Alec drew a deep breath and straightened his posture. “Jace, Clary, Izzy, I need to speak to you privately, please.”

As he spoke, he gave Magnus an unflinching stare. Never, in all his centuries, had Magnus known anyone who did eye contact quite the way Alec did it. No guile or evasion. Just naked honesty. Under that regard, that silent promise that Alec would do whatever he could to make this situation right, Magnus felt a significant portion of his fury dissipate.

He nodded back at Alec, managing a small smile. “I need to give Dorothea her potion and bolster her strength with another spell. We’ll meet you in the Ops Center when we’re ready?”

“See you there,” Alec said. “Sebastian, thanks for guarding Dot. Jace, Clary, and Magnus will be with her from here on out, so you can report to Lydia for your next assignment. Um—er, well, that is—I mean—” he flushed and looked at Jace, wincing.

Jace sighed. “Yeah. What he said. Dismissed.”

When they had all gone and closed the door behind them, Magnus knelt before Dot where she sat, pressing the glamoured satchel into her lap and speaking the word that would enable her to see it.

“Are you ready, my dear?” he asked gently.

She lifted her ravaged face and nodded. “Let’s end this.”

“Valentine has escaped Clave custody,” he said under his breath. He called his power to his hands and pushed it into her. Dot gasped at first, her spine bowing, but then she relaxed as the pain relieving effects of the spell began to work. Some of the agony smoothed away from her features. “You know he’ll come for the Mirror.”

She met Magnus’s eyes, determination burning fiercely in her own. Her shaking hands fumbled to clasp his.

“So much the better,” she said, and let him help her to her feet. “I’m not afraid of him.”

The air of the spring night was colder than it should have been.

The air everywhere was colder than it should have been. Dot couldn’t remember the last time she’d been warm. Whatever demon had produced the toxin that went into Valentine’s mind-control serum—or perhaps one of his other experiments—clearly hailed from a realm far hotter than this one.

Dot clutched the thick sweater Magnus had given her closer around her as he closed the portal behind them. As though from far away, she could hear Clary and Jace still bickering about whether or not Valentine’s son could still be somehow saved.

Dot knew better. She remembered too well what Jocelyn had confided to her, on many late nights when they stayed up with a pitcher of margaritas after Clary had been tucked in to bed. And she remembered fragmented snippets of what she’d overheard from Valentine’s own mouth while she shivered in her cage like an animal. After she’d helped Clary and Jace jump off the ship, Valentine had become a great deal more circumspect around her, making certain to leave the room before discussing any plans. She’d never heard enough to offer anyone any of the answers the Shadowhunters had sought, but she remembered Valentine speaking of his son. At the time, she’d thought he was talking about Jace, but now she understood who they were actually dealing with.

The perfect weapon, Valentine had called him, so long as one was strong enough to aim it correctly.

Well, if all went according to plan, at least Clary wouldn’t have to make the call of whether or not her brother was beyond saving.

Magnus hovered protectively by her side while Dot made a show of consulting the sigil etched onto her forearm. “It’s close,” she called to Clary, leading them toward the statue under the gazebo in the middle of the park. She’d chosen this park because she knew Jocelyn used to bring Clary here. Now, with an eighteen-year-old’s utter self-absorption, Clary was convinced Jocelyn had intended for her to find the Mirror all along.

It helped sell the story.

Standing before the statue, Dot took Magnus’s hand and drew upon his power to fuel the guttering flames of her own magic. Murmuring an incantation, she opened the small, inter-dimensional pocket and drew from it the mirror in its golden, rune-marked case. Even that small spell exhausted her. She slumped against Magnus, shaking.

“So far, so good,” Jace muttered. “Now let’s get out of here before someone realizes Alec and Izzy were a diversion.”

“Give me…a moment…” she panted. “Can’t…handle portal travel again…just yet.”

“Take your time, Dorothea.” Solicitously, Magnus passed another soothing wave of pain-relieving magic over her, his hands glowing with the gentle blue of healing. Perhaps only someone who had known him for over a century could see the anguish in his eyes every time he looked at her. If they did, they’d no doubt interpret it as grief for the impending death of a friend. Surely no one would attribute it to remorse for the ways he’d helped her deliberately exacerbate her own condition, in preparation for this moment.

Oh, how they’d struggled with this decision. For weeks, in long conversations about what the future held for her as her magic and immortality slowly diminished, until she was simply a shell of who she’d once been. She’d sought his help to find a way to give meaning and purpose to it, and though it had torn his heart, he’d acceded to her wishes.

She clutched the mirror tighter, tuning out Clary and Jace fretting in the background. Even the magic Magnus was using wasn’t enough to ease the burn of the literally cursed poisons coursing through her veins. “They need to hurry,” she whispered to him, biting back a moan of agony.

“It’s out of our hands now, dear,” Magnus murmured back, his voice a little ragged. “Dot, have we done the right—”

The glowing tip of seraph blade erupted from his chest. High and to the right of the heart, thank whatever divine or infernal powers had prompted Magnus to angle himself toward her as he spoke. A severe wound, but not a fatal one. Magnus cried out in pain, sliding to the ground as the blade was jerked back. Dot saw the flash of it poised above their heads, ready to come down. She heard Clary’s startled cry and flung herself forward to shield Magnus, glaring at the monstrosity looming over them, its eyes a demonic black in a charred face.

How could a demon wield a seraph blade, she wondered. And then she knew what she was looking at.

Jace leapt over her and Magnus, his blade striking sparks against Jonathan’s. Dot tried to summon magic to her hands as they fought, tried to call the power to heal Magnus’s wound, but she had already spent what little magic she had left. Somewhere in the darkness, the short, vicious battle seemed to be going badly. She was vaguely aware of Clary pleading with her brother, offering him welcome and acceptance he would just turn from this path. Jace snapped a warning for her to stay back.

But worse than all of that was the burning in Dot’s own veins. She had to get them out of here, before it was too late.

With blood flecking his lips and sliding down his chin, Magnus was trying to gasp something at her. Dot had no idea what. Shoving the mirror in her pocket, she took his hand, lacing their fingers tightly together. A small nod told her he knew her intent, and he let his power flow through her again.

She flung a ball of magic out that knocked Jonathan off his feet and halfway across the park, then began casting another spell.

“Jace! Take Clary and Magnus and go!” she shouted, feeding all the power she could pull into a portal.

He didn’t need telling twice. Only once he’d dragged Clary toward the portal by her arm and stooped to help Magnus to his feet did he hesitate.

“The Mirror!”

“Magnus has it. Just go!” she hissed, sweeping the portal toward them at the same instant she released Magnus’s hand. They disappeared into it, and Dot kept it open with the last of the magic she had siphoned from Magnus and stared defiantly at the monster coming furiously toward her, seraph blade drawn and ready to murder.

“If you kill me, you’ll never get the Mirror,” she taunted. She drew the mirror out of her pocket and waved it before him.

Jonathan hesitated, then seized Dot by her sweater and hauled her into the portal.

The swirling, chaotic energies of portal travel were once something Dot could navigate without effort, but it was too much for her so soon after the portal they’d taken to the park. When she awoke, she was lying on the floor of another cage, as she had done so many times before while Valentine held her captive.

But this time, she wasn’t alone. The Iron Sister, Cleophas, sat next to her, tucking a ragged blanket that smelled of motor oil around Dot.

“You’re still here,” Dot croaked. “I wondered if you would be.”

“I haven’t had the opportunity to escape. Yet. I have been hiding the fact that Valentine’s mind control serum is having a diminished effect on me, though. The purification trials I endured to become an Iron Sister grant me some immunity to demonic poisons.”

“Lucky you,” Dot muttered bitterly.

Cleophas gave Dot a troubled look. “I thought you were finally free,” she said, sounding far more grieved than was warranted by the few times they’d encountered each other before Dot had been left behind with misinformation Valentine had wanted seeded to the Shadowhunters. “But then Valentine’s son arrived up and dropped you in here and told me to make sure you don’t die.”

“With what?” Dot asked, with an incredulous chuckle that dissolved into a fit of coughing. Cleophas slid an arm behind Dot and helped her sit up to clear her lungs.

“You’re not well,” she said gravely.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Dot glanced around at their surroundings. They appeared to be in some sort of a deserted garage. Locked in the cage together as they were, apparently Jonathan and Valentine’s other followers felt confident enough to leave them unguarded.

Performing a quick inventory, Dot was relieved to see the satchel was still hanging across her body, and she still clutched the mirror. Jonathan knew, then, about the lie Magnus had told. He believed the mirror could only safely change hands if Dot offered it over willingly. Which meant someone who had been in the room with them before they left the Institute was working for Valentine.

Well, hopefully they wouldn’t be for long.

“You need to get out of here,” she whispered to Cleophas, opening the satchel. She pulled out one of the phials Magnus had stashed within and swallowed it down, shuddering. Then she checked the side pocket. There where Magnus had said it would be, was the stele he had stolen.

Dot pressed it into Cleophas’s hands. “Leave. Now, while no one is watching. When Valentine returns, everyone in this room is going to die. His injections may have killed me, but I don’t intend to be the only one. I’m taking out him and his army.”

Cleophas inhaled sharply and stared at her for a moment, then bent and pressed a kiss to Dot’s brow. “Angel watch over you, Dorothea Rollins,” she whispered.

Dot clutched her by the shirt and pulled her closer. “When you get outside, hide until Valentine’s people are all in, then lock the doors with the strongest runes you can manage. Block them physically if you can.”

“I will.” Cleophas dragged the stele over several of her runes to activate them and rose. The cage swung open with an unlock rune, and from the next room over a alarmed shout echoed through the garage, followed by a shuffle of running footsteps.

The first sentry to arrive fell almost soundlessly. Moving nearly as swiftly as a vampire, Cleophas grabbed a dangling chain from an engine hoist and looped it around the man’s neck, snapping it neatly. Two others pounding along behind him were incapacitated so quickly Dot wasn’t sure how Cleophas managed it. By the time more reinforcements arrived, Cleophas had nimbly scaled the heavy racks of tools and engine parts and vaulted out through one of the skylight windows.

Dot smiled as she heard the patter of footfalls on the corrugated steel of the roof, then closed her eyes, mustering her strength. She needed to at least make a show of attempting to escape. Pulling herself to her feet, she hobbled for the open gate of the cage, only to find herself grabbed roughly by Valentine’s henchmen.

“Dot.” Valentine shook his head as he emerged from one of the doorways leading to the office area of the garage. She wanted to slap the arrogant tsk off his lips. “I’m disappointed in you. All those times I asked you what else Jocelyn might have kept from me and you never mentioned the Mortal Mirror.”

“I didn’t know it was the Mirror she had hidden,” Dot retorted, meeting his eyes without flinching.

“Give it to me.” Valentine extended his hand. Dot tried to pull away, but the Circle members restraining her blocked any retreat.

“Careful,” cautioned a familiar voice. From the shadows emerged Sebastian, the sweet-faced British Shadowhunter who had guarded her these past two days. Dot didn’t know why that betrayal should sting, but it did nonetheless. She wished she had some means of warning Magnus and his husband, but that would be Cleophas’s job now. “Apparently, it’s enchanted so that it will self-destruct violently if one attempts to take it without her consent.”

“You warning is invaluable, Jonathan,” Valentine said smoothly. “But Dot knows I can make her hand it over willingly if she refuses, and I don’t think she wants that. It looks like those injections she had during her time with me haven’t done her any favors. But then, she always was on the weak end of the spectrum, as far as warlocks go.”

Dot hung her head, as she knew he expected her to do. Because once those words would have hurt. Once it would have filled her with shame to be reminded that her magic was almost pathetically weak compared to other warlocks, even when she was at her best. She’d met mundane magical scholars over the centuries who could do nearly as much.

Now, however, she didn’t care. She had nothing to fear, nothing to regret. Not anymore. For all Valentine’s brilliance and planning, she had out-thought him this time. She’d made a play he’d never see coming, but only if she didn’t give it away too soon. So she hung her head and let him believe her to be ashamed.

“The Mirror, Dot. Now.”

With a show of heavy reluctance, Dot reached out and dropped the mirror into his hand.

Valentine stared at it a moment, then at her. “Dot. Do you really think I wouldn’t recognize one of Jocelyn’s trinkets?” he sneered. “Jocelyn’s mother, Adele, gave her this when we graduated from the Shadowhunter academy. Did you really sacrifice yourself just to create a diversion?

Dot gazed back defiantly.

”You did this to hide something. Where’s the real Mirror?”

“You can’t make me tell you. Not this time.”

“I think I can,” he said smugly, and gestured to one of his people.

A sharp jab in her neck, and then the burn of the demonic toxins flooding her blood, taking slow, insidious root in her brain. Normally within minutes, she would be totally obedient.

Not this time.

Before she lost all her own will, Dot murmured her final incantation, and smiled at Valentine as she felt her own skin and organs begin to slowly melt. The burning breath that seethed from her chest carried the first cloud of poison. It was a twisted grimace of cold, bitter triumph, and it quickly morphed into agony—but only for a second before she was beyond the reach of any pain.

The Shadowhunters around her began to cough and gag, tearing at their throats with their own fingernails as acidic vapor wafted away from Dot’s dissolving body. It filled their lungs and began to corrode them from the inside out. They fell to the floor, writhing, their shrieks of torment nothing more than a breathless keening.

The whole thing was eerily quiet.

Valentine reeled away from her, staring at Dot in shock and horror, his own hand clutching his throat as he began to cough. Beside him, his son was doubled over, hacking as he grabbed Valentine’s arm and attempted to drag him away.

The last thing Dot saw before her eyes melted into more of the corrosive mist was the two of them stumble and fall to the floor.

She died knowing she had won.

On to Chapter 15!

Please, if you’ve enjoyed this fanfic, consider buying some of my books, or buying me a cup of coffee!

[funkzpiel]

Fictober 2018 | Day 11

TF!Fic | Transformation, Mermaids - Grindelgraves Part 1 of 2 (a gift for @mush-shhhh that I promised ages ago) - Mush-mush, I don’t know if you even still follow this fandom so I’m sorry if it’s too late, but here’s part 1 of the mermaid fic I promised you a million years ago.

He was tired; not just tired, but weary down to his very bones. Fresh from a magical creature trafficking bust, he was practically dead on his feet. He had been well and truly ready to go home after he had just finished his preliminary paperwork when a squeaking little note had crawled onto his desk and unraveled into his hands with a flourish. One of his informants had intel about the rash of strange “gas explosions” across the city. They hadn’t really been gas explosions, of course; merely a fabrication that had concocted the moment they saw the severity of the destruction.

Got info on your dark cloud.

Docks, midnight.

I’m not sticking around, you’ve got one shot.

G.

Graves frowned. It was unusual to hear from Gnarlak directly; even more so not to be directed to just meet at his pub. Whatever information the goblin had for him, it was good and it was dangerous – not to mention expensive, no doubt. Graves sighed and stood, his head heavy between his shoulders as he braced himself against his desk for a moment. He took a deep, trembling breath and tried to ignore the ache in his ribs from a potshot one of the traffickers had managed to strike him with. He hid it well until now, unwilling to worry his aurors, but he knew what must lay beneath his vest and shirt. He could feel the heat of the injury through his thin clothes when he brushed over it with his fingers. He knew the skin beneath was no doubt hot with internal bleeding, mottled and purple. Perhaps even somewhat uneven, if any of the bones were broken.

Consumed as he was in his evaluation, he didn’t notice when his most junior auror slipped through his door carrying a mountain of paperwork. Jace Wayland was a thin, willowy thing. Baby faced with big blue eyes that could stop people in their tracks. In all honesty he looked nothing like an auror. He looked as though a good, firm breeze could knock him over; but he was tenacious – more so than Graves had encountered in a junior in a long time. In what he lacked physically, he more than made up for mentally. Sharp as a tack and faster than even his best investigators, although he had never told the boy that. Humility bred caution, after all, and he wanted the boy to make it to a full position. Curious if he could.

“M-Mr. Graves, here are all the leads you asked for me to follow up on while you were out…”

Graves heard it the moment the boy’s words trailed off, the moment he noticed the director’s grimace. IT was too late to cover it up now; the boy knew. He cursed beneath his breath.

“Mr. Graves, are you hurt?”

Graves sniffed loudly and slowly straightened his back into something more regal and commanding than the figure he no doubt cut while doubled over on his desk. He ignored the fiery blaze of agony blaring along his right side and addressed the boy as if nothing were the matter.

“Mr. Wayland... It’s late, why aren’t you home?” He asked. Annoyed to have been caught when no one should be left at the office. Impressed, however, by the child’s drive.

“This seemed important,” the boy said lamely.

“Everything will always seem important,” Graves said, knowing full well the irony of the words leaving his lips. The pot calling the kettle black. “You must take time to recharge or you’ll drive yourself mad.”

“O-of course,” Jace said, but his eyes were still on Graves’ ribs and he knew the subject wasn’t done. “Did the raid go well?”

“Swimmingly,” Graves said shortly as he drew his coat from his chair and made a show of putting it on without ever once letting slip a grimace. Even when he felt something distinctly pop. He began to sweat. “The traffickers were apprehended with minimal casualties to either side.”

“That’s great news. Are you headed home?”

“Not quite,” Graves said, fingers trailing over the little worn out note on his desk before he set the little slip aflame.

“But sir, you—“

Graves shot him a cold, challenging look and watched the boy’s confidence wilt before his eyes. Surprisingly, however, Jace simply clutched his papers tighter and frowned.

“We’re not supposed to do anything alone, sir.”

Graves scowled. The boy was right. It was a rule that they were not supposed to act on any lead alone. Clever child, he saw the note for what it was and knew exactly what to say. What sort of leader created rules they did not themselves abide by? Graves glared at him, assessing, before finally he let loose a small sigh and said, “Get your things, Mr. Wayland. Let’s make this quick.”

The boy scampered off before Graves had so much as a moment to change his mind and somewhere in the back of his head, he felt a niggling. He scowled, but the feeling was lost to him before he could think much more of it – burned away by the low, hot hum of his aching ribs.

The docks were quiet; silent in a way that set Graves’ teeth on edge. There was no late night rush of strangers wasting their money at the dingy bar down the street. No dock workers, no gulls. Something was terribly wrong, Graves just didn’t know what.

What he did know was that he was cold, but also hot. There was a thin film of sweat growing at his brow, and he felt simultaneously smothered by his coat and scarf, and freezing. He shivered despite himself, his eyelids heavy, and clenched his fists a little tighter in the safety of his coat pockets. It was ten past midnight and that rotten little goblin had stood him up. He should have known better than to trust the creature; wicked and cruel as it was. Gnarlak was a valuable informant, but he wasn’t exactly a trustworthy one, and Graves was just beginning to wonder if he should stop by The Blind Pig and have a little chat about certain privileges the goblin was enjoying when Jace finally sighed beside him.

“Well that’s rather disappointing,” the boy pouted, arms crossed to keep him warm.

“Ah, yes. This would have been your first time meeting with an informant,” Graves said softly. He sniffed, nose running from the cold, and shrugged a little deeper into the overwhelming heat of his coat. “It’s not as exciting as you think, Mr. Wayland. Gnarlak would have just haggled us for some cheap line about something we likely already knew. Hardly exciting detective work.”

Beside him, the boy scoffed.

“Then why do we keep him as an informant?”

“Because he might have useful information,” Graves said simply as he gave his surroundings outside the mooring house one last check. “And the possibility of good information is more valuable than the risk of losing that information just because we’re tired of Gnarlak’s bullshit.”

Jace raised his brows at him, surprised by his language. Graves’ dipped his head ever so slightly in concession.

“Apologies. I’m rather tired. Let’s call it a night, Jace. There’s always tomorrow.”

“Of course, sir.”

Graves turned to head back to their disapparition point, his mind caught on thoughts of what he would do once he got home. He’d take a Dreamless Drought, he thought pleasantly. He’d numb his ribs with a bit of mint oil and take a long, hot shower. And once he was clean and his muscles mush from the pounding water, he’d slip into his bed and—

He stilled.

Jace was not beside him.

He turned to look back, concerned, only to be struck right between his shoulders before he could so much as spin halfway around. He let out a shout, the sound pulled from his lips mercilessly as the ferocity of the spell shook his ribs within his chest. He couldn’t breathe, the air knocked from his lungs. He wheezed and scrabbled around, wand at the ready despite his trembling, and prepared to fire a volley of cover fire for Jace only—

Only Jace was the one that had hit him.

Gone was the baby faced boy that sought to please him. In his place was a young man, his large blue eyes a cold and deadly stare that chilled Graves to his core. He even stood differently than his junior auror had. Back straight, jaw squared. Quite like… well, quite like Graves himself, when his ribs weren’t busy trying to dissolve into dust within his chest. A painful, whistling breath escaped him.

“Jace?”

“Not quite,” the boy said, an eerie smile on his cherub face. “But it is a name of mine, yes. Occassionally.”

Graves gripped at his ribs, his breath short from the other man’s sucker punch of a spell as before his eyes Jace’s visage melted away. He became taller – taller even than Graves – and broader too. His skin grew if possible paler, and his young golden locks became short, spikey white points standing atop his head. But all it took was one look at his eyes to know he had been a terrible, terrible mistake coming here injured.

Those haunting, mismatched eyes belonged to Gellert Grindelwald. His enemy, an international terrorist, and likely soon to be his murderer.

Graves grit his teeth. His skin itched to be gone from there, to disapparate and get help – but through the pain he knew he was too distracted to perform the delicate spell without getting splinched. Were only his ribs howling, maybe, but the spell had left his back a mottled mess of agony as well; as though he had been hit by a train rather than a simple stunning spell.

His knees felt weak and he staggered, but still he held up his wand. Across from him – pristine and perfect – Grindelwald tsked at him sympathetically.

“Poor Mr. Graves,” he purred, “No one truly looks at you, do they? Your power has blinded them to your weaknesses. No one noticed your injury. No one insisted to see you home. And after tonight, no one will notice when you’re replaced.”

Dread pooled in his belly like liquid lead. Mercy Lewis, he intended to infiltrate MACUSA in a position of power. He couldn’t let that happen.

He tried to hold his wand steadier, but it only seemed to make the shaking of his exhausted limbs worse.

“Not going to happen,” he bit out simply. Grindelwald quirked a brow at him and made a show of looking him up and down.

“You know it’s unfortunate you’re against my cause, director, because I like you. You are a just leader, respectful of your staff from the lowest rung to the highest. You instilled great practices in your men and women, and even encouraged unlikely souls like Jace to strive for excellence when no one else gave him the time of day. It doesn’t have to be this way, you know. You could join me.”

Graves snorted even though it made his ribs ache and his spine sing and said, “Join you? You truly are mad if you think I would ever join you.”

Grindelwald made a show of sighing in disappointment and said remorsefully, “C’est la vie.”

Graves had no more warning than that before the man’s knobby wand was up and directed at him, one arcing spell after another flinging at him. With one hand, Graves directed the first blow away while attempting to side step the second, but it caught the barest edge of his shoulder and sent him staggering. He needed to get on the offensive, he knew, and yet he couldn’t find the time to do much more than barely avoid Grindelwald’s attacks. Magic screamed in the empty air of the docks, pulling up huge chunks of concrete and destroying cannisters around them.

Grindelwald had no mind for secrecy. His attacks were needlessly wild and destructive – and Graves realized the man intended for his spells to do more damage to the world around them than to Graves himself. He wanted to leave a scene behind. He wanted the No-Majs to know.

Graves had to risk it, he had to disapparate. He wouldn’t make any true distance that would get him to safety, but he could make it a few feet – and that would have to be enough.

He disappeared behind the light of another arcing spell before it could hit him and reappeared – breathless but whole – behind Grindelwald a moment later. He gathered his power as fiercely as he could and let lose a stunning spell that sent Grindelwald flying across the jagged pavement he had torn asunder and into a heap by the dock and the water.

Graves heaved a breath he couldn’t catch and moved to stand over his foe, to wrap him in chains and call for help, but as he stepped forward darkness began to creep around the edges of his vision.

“No,” he murmured, as though by words alone he could convince himself that he was fine. “No, no, no, not now.”

He took another two or three steps before his knees turned to jelly and bit the concrete. He cried out and he cursed raggedly beneath his breath, then finally looked up to find his enemy gone. He turned quickly to try and spot him and the shadows in his peripherals got worse. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to sleep.

He heard the sound of someone coming up beside him on his other side too late. He turned right into a spell that felt more like a punch to the face than anything constructive or purposeful. He shouted wetly, blood already slicking his lip, and knew immediately his nose was most certainly broken.

He tried to scrabble to his feet but Grindelwald shoved him back down to his knees mercilessly. When Graves looked up, the man looked none the worse for wear. It seemed entirely unfair. Panic began to build inside his chest.

“W-why are you doing this?” Graves gasped wetly, his teeth shiny with blood from his broken nose. “Do you really hate the No-Majs so much that you would jeopardize the safety of your own kind?!”

Grindelwald towered over him, a menacing shadow with a shock of white hair and a shining pearly slit of a smile. He clucked his tongue and bent down at the hips so that he was invading the director’s space. With quick fingers, he snatched Graves’ chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tipped his gaze up to lock with his own unnatural stare.

“Oh my dear director,” he cooed, “Witches and wizards are not my kin. It is, however, because of them that my kind cannot enjoy this world as we should. We remain holed up in dark caves and murky waters and sinister alcoves, unable to journey back to our motherlands – filled with rich flora and soft sands and sunlight – because your kind is too afraid to put humans in their place. Too afraid of ‘exposure’.”

Graves blinked, his teeth-bared sneer melting into cautious confusion. One of his pupils wasn’t contracting anymore, concussed. Blood oozed sluggishly from his nose, his temple, his hair line.

“What do you mean, witches and wizards aren’t your kin?”

There was a tremble to his voice that Graves tried his best to hide, but Grindelwald caught it all the same. The madman smiled and when he did, two little canines became readily visible in his mouth. Graves flinched.

“Rather presumptuous of you to assume your greatest enemy was a wizard, Mr. Graves. Don’t you think?” He chuckled. “I expected more from MACUSA’s greatest.”

“What are you?”

“It’s a little too late for that information to help you now, don’t you think?”

Graves’ mouth pressed into a firm, resigned line. He jerked his chin free of Grindelwald’s grasp and squared his jaw a little tighter, tipped his chin a little higher, and glared.

“Do your worst.”

He braced himself, jaw so tight it hurt, but forced himself not to close his eyes. He’d meet his end head on, he told himself. If nothing else, he would do that much.

Seconds ticked by and yet, nothing happened.

Grindelwald felt a little pang in his heart that he had not felt in years. His blood quickened in his veins, magic flush and excited just below his skin. He sucked in a quick, harsh breath and then let it out in a loud, slow, stuttering laugh – surprised, amused, enticed.

Intrigued.

“You are quite fascinating for a wizard, Percival,” Grindelwald smiled. He lifted his hand first to the man’s neck, his grip loose and suggestive as he thumbed the director’s fragile Adam’s Apple, and waited for a reaction. When no begging came, no crumpled expression, no fear, he then lifted that hand higher and brushed his thumb over the painful swelling of Graves’ broken nose and set it back to its proper place with magic. He smiled when he caught the noticeable surprise on Graves’ face. A startled blink and a soft, relieved sigh to finally have the throbbing in his face ebb away.

“Wha--?”

Grindelwald didn’t give him another moment to ponder it. He then brought his hand to cover the man’s eyes and compelled him to sleep with a soft, whispered spell. Exhausted as Graves was, the effect was instantaneous. He caught the director by the shoulders just before he could crumple completely to the ground and gently scooped him into his arms. He looked down fondly at the face of his unconscious potential mate-to-be and smiled.

“Oh what fun you’ve turned out to be, Percy dear. Oh what fun indeed.”

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, fcstation1063!

For @fcstation1063. First time writing High School AU, it was fun.

Read On AO3

*****

Bane of My Existence

Alec sighed in relief. It was his last year in Raziel High School. His siblings still had two years left.

He loved to learn, but he didn’t like the other students. He was a loner and he was okay with that.

Alec sat alone at lunch, noticing his siblings with their groups around them. They were popular, unlike him, but he didn’t care. He focused on his food and not the other students around him, not listening to what they had to say.

A boy sat next to him, trying to get his attention, but he didn’t succeed as Alec ignored him. After a few minutes the boy left him alone again.

Alec sighed in relief. He wasn’t good with others, not with talking anyway. His siblings were much better with their social lives.

The days passed one by one and soon another month had gone by. Sitting and eating in the lunchroom, he talked to his siblings for a bit, but he avoided contact with others who tried to talk to him.

Finished with his lunch, he walked away from the main school building to his secret place, ignoring the chatter of other students as he walked.

In the lunchroom the others had watched as he left the room and now the new student who had joined the group earlier asked them about him.

“Who is he?”

“Oh, right, you’re new here,” Jace replied with a smile, as he added, “That’s my older brother, Alec. He's pretty much a complete loner.”

“I tried to talk with him earlier, but he just ignored me,” Magnus, the new guy, told him.

“He does that to everyone who tries to be his friend. I guess he’s just used to it by now. I really don’t know why he prefers to be alone when he could be your friend,” Izzy told him as she watched with sadness as her big brother walked away. “You know, even at home, he stays locked in his room. Mom and Dad seem to given up on him” she mumbled.

“Why give up on him?” Magnus asked.

“They tried everything so he wouldn’t be alone, even signed him up to other courses, but he dropped out of them as quickly as he entered them, so they gave up trying,” Izzy replied.

“He’s not much of a social guy, but I think he needs a friend. I think he’s just afraid it will backfire on him. I think it happened before and that’s why he doesn’t take many chances when it comes to getting to know someone else,” Jace added his piece.

“Really? He got burned once and he’s afraid of getting burned again?” Magnus asked.

“There’s something else you should know about our brother. As much as he is a loner, he has a soulmate mark on his hand. That’s why he wears long sleeves no matter the season,” Izzy replied and added, “Alec has been targeted by bullies. We are trying to get the principal to stop it, but they just keep bullying him about the soulmate mark.”

“He has a soulmate mark? That is so special; I have one too,” Magnus confided with a proud look. “He should be proud he has a soulmate mark. It is extremely rare to have one in the first place,” Magnus added with excitement.

“Come to our house after school, maybe we can get Alec to talk to you. Like a family dinner with you, welcoming the new guy or something,” Jace suggested. “What could go wrong?”

“Everything,” Izzy replied. “He could disappear into his room and put music on full blast. He already did it once or twice before.”

“I can come if the offer still stands,” Magnus told them.

“Good, you can come home with us,” Jace grinned.

The bell rang as the students hurried out of the lunchroom to their classes.

Jace watched from the door of his classroom as Alec slowly made his way to class, ignoring everyone around him.

Jace sighed heavily, hoping to see his big brother smile sometimes. It seemed like he didn’t remember how to smile anymore.

When the school day was finally over, Izzy and Jace smiled, noticing that their brother was already ahead of them, walking over to his bike. He left seconds later.

Magnus joined them as his last class let out, texting his foster parents he was going to his new friends’ house.

“Where’s your brother?” Magnus asked as he looked around the parking lot.

“He already left; he has a bike,” Jace explained.

“Come, let’s go. Maybe we can catch up with him before he reaches home,” Izzy urged them as they walked toward the black car.

“Nice car,” Magnus remarked.

“Thanks. It actually belonged to Alec, but he gave it to us. He prefers bikes,” Jace informed him.

Jace drove them home, not surprised to see Alec’s bike already in the garage.

“Mom, Dad, we brought a new friend for dinner, but we will do our homework first,” Jace let their parents know, as Izzy added, “I’ll just take snacks and drinks to our rooms.”

“Did Alec arrive? I didn’t hear him,” Robert enquired as he introduced himself and Maryse.

“His bike’s in the garage, he arrived before us,” Jace replied.

“Thanks, Jace. I’ll go check on Alec soon,” Robert thanked his son as he welcomed Magnus. “Welcome to our home, Magnus. Did you meet Alec today? I hope that he will grace us with his presence at dinner.”

“Thanks. Robert. I guess we all do,” Magnus told him with a smile.

A few hours later, Jace, Izzy and Magnus waited at the dinner table with Maryse as Robert went and knocked on the on their big brother's bedroom door.

“Alec, we have a guest. Come join us for dinner,” Robert said softly through the door, hoping Alec would hear and come join them.

The door opened after a moment. Alec appeared, still dressed in his black pants and shirt with long sleeves. He looked pale to everyone, but no one said anything as he walked slowly from his room and took a place as far away from everyone else as possible. He stared down at his plate, not even looking at his parents, siblings or the guest.

Alec ate quietly, keeping his eyes on his plate, fearing to make any noise that might draw attention to him. He tried to ignore everyone, even when his mother spoke and asked the guest questions.

“Magnus Bane, is it true what I heard? You have a soulmate mark? Did you find your soulmate?” Maryse asked.

“Yes, it’s true. I haven’t found my soulmate, but I have a soulmate mark,” Magnus replied.

“Can you show us?” Robert asked.

“Yes, certainly. It is near my heart. Is it okay if I remove my shirt now during dinner or should I wait until afterwards? I don’t want to ruin dinner,” Magnus told them.

“It is quite all right,” Maryse replied. “Alec, sweetheart,” she added, “don’t you want to share your soulmate mark?”

Alec left the dinner table and disappeared into his room, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows.

“Sorry about that. I guess it was too soon,” Maryse told their guest as she added, “We want to encourage him to show the mark, but we fail each time.”

“It’s okay, they already told me about him,” Magnus told her, not knowing if he should show them the mark or not. “I guess that it can wait until after dinner to show you my soulmate mark.”

A few minutes later, when they had all finished dinner and cleared the table, they moved to the living room, where Magnus removed his shirt and they could see the soulmate mark near his heart.

It was a black outline of a heart that was filled with gold color. Near the heart were two letters. One was A and the other L.

Magnus saw the way they looked at his soulmate marks as he turned around and found himself facing Alec, the loner boy who just stared at him and his soulmate mark.

Whatever Alec was holding had fallen to the ground with a crash. A broken plate and cup was littered across the ground as Alec continued to stare at the mark on Magnus’s chest.

Izzy and Jace hurried over to their brother who seemed in a trance as he still just looked at Magnus. “Alec, what is it? Are you alright?”

Alec shook himself from the trance he was in, backing away from the living room and locking himself in his bedroom.

“What just happened?” Magnus asked, as he remembered how Alec stared at him. The look on his face made him wonder if he had recognized something about the soulmate mark.

“You told me that you saw his soulmate mark. Can you tell me more about it?” Magnus asked the family.

“Yeah, I saw it. I think that I even took a picture of it once. I’ll go check,” Maryse told him as she went to look.

Minutes later, Alec left his room, grabbing his cycling helmet as he left the house. The family saw him go, but no one dared to follow him.

“Will he be alright? I mean, driving at night?” Magnus asked with concern on his face.

“He did it before and returned hours later like nothing happened,” Jace replied and then he added, “I guess that he just needs to let off some steam and then he will be alright.”

“Okay, so would you mind giving me a lift home?” Magnus asked as he noticed the time on his phone. “I might follow you back here tomorrow with my car, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, Magnus, you are always welcome here. Maybe by tomorrow we will have the picture of his soulmate mark,” Robert replied as he noticed Jace heading towards the garage.

“Thank you for having me as a guest,” Magnus graciously thanked them for their hospitality.

Once he was in the car with Jace, Magnus gave him his home address and then he told him, “It was fun.”

“You see more of Alec than we do, so I say it’s a win-win somehow.” Jace told him.

“Do you remember that soulmate mark that you and your sister saw?” Magnus asked.

“I barely remember what it says, but I think it has some words, something like – existence, I think, but I’m not sure,” Jace told him as he looked at him as the traffic light turned to red. “Maybe tomorrow you can ask Izzy at school if she’s remembered or if my mom and dad found the picture.”

“I can do that,” Magnus agreed.

“Good, I think that we are going to be great friends. I just hope Alec will get to meet you and get out of the phase he is in. He needs to get along with people,” Jace told him and moved the car into gear as the light changed to green.

As Jace arrived at Magnus’ house he stopped and let the other boy out before waving at him, “I see you tomorrow, Magnus.”

“Thank you, Jace.” Magnus thanked him and waved back. As the car was driving away he noticed a black bike enter the driveway. Once the helmet was removed he could see the pale face of Alec Lightwood.

“Alec, how are you doing?” Magnus asked as he came closer to him.

Alec took a step backward and just nodded at him.

“What are you doing here?” Magnus asked as he hoped to get an answer from the man before him.

Alec put his helmet on the bike and revealed part of the soulmate mark as he rolled his sleeve up. Magnus could read the whole sentence. “Bane of my existence.”

“Do you have another mark, or just this one?” Magnus asked him.

Alec nodded; he couldn’t find the words to speak.

He rolled up the sleeve of his other arm to reveal it was a black outline of a heart filled with three colors – blue, pink and purple and the letters M & B on each side of the heart.

“Bane is my last name, Alec,” Magnus told him, unable to fight the feeling he had found his soulmate.

“So, it’s you,” Alec said weakly.

“It is,” Magnus told him. He didn’t know how to act this close to him. Ruffling his hair nervously he asked, “Can I join you tomorrow at lunch?”

Alec nodded before quickly climbing on his bike and tearing off, tyres screeching on the road as Magnus looked on with horror, hoping the other boy wouldn’t get himself killed. He knew the statistics.

Magnus sighed in relief; he had found his soulmate at last.

“So, how was your day?” Luke asked as he opened the door.

“It was surprising. I found my soulmate and have made some great friends,” Magnus replied, the smile never leaving his face as he hurried to his room. He knew he needed to make a call.

Magnus dropped his backpack on the floor as he jumped on the bed and pulled out his phone, eager to let his new friends know what had happened.

“Jace, it’s me, Magnus,” Magnus said when the other boy picked up.

“Hey, Magnus, how are you doing?” Jace asked.

“I’m feeling awesome! I found my soulmate! Well, my soulmate found me actually! He came to my place actually, after you left,” Magnus rumbled, the smile not leaving his face, excitement flowing through his veins.

“That’s good news, Magnus,” Jace told him.

“Your brother came right after you left. He showed me his soulmate marks. He has two, Jace! I only have one mark. And he spoke, after I asked him,” Magnus mumbled with joy in his voice.

“That’s good,” Jace told him as he watched his big brother come into the house, his bike helmet in hand as he entered his room. “Alec just came in,” he informed Magnus. “He’s alright.”

“Thanks, Jace,” Magnus thanked him, glad to know his soulmate had made it home safely.

“I might not join you for lunch tomorrow,” Magnus told him.

“That’s alright. As long as you are there for him we are okay with it. Wait till I tell Izzy, Mom and Dad! They will be thrilled,” Jace told him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Night, Jace,” Magnus said, hearing Jace tell him the same as he hung up the phone.

The next morning he drove to school with his foster sister, Clary. Once there he hurried over to his friends before the bell for classes to begin rang.

“So, did you see him yet?” Jace asked as he noticed his friend, while Izzy joined her best friend, Clary.

“No, where is he?” Magnus asked, not remembering seeing the bike in the parking lot.

“He left home first. I saw him riding his bike in front of us. I assumed he got here already,” Jace replied.

The sound of a bike drew their attention as they walked to the main building and they saw Alec removing his helmet and take it with him. He ignored them as he walked past them to his class.

“I wonder where he’s been,” Jace muttered as he hurried to his class.

“I guess we’ll find out soon,” Magnus replied as he headed off to his own class.

As lunchtime approached Clary handed them a notice about prom and since Magnus was in the same year as Alec thought about asking him to go with him. He knew that the other boy would probably just ignore it otherwise. He just hoped his soulmate wouldn't reject him, but he figured he should just deal with one obstacle at a time.

He took a leaflet from Clary as he took his lunch tray and went to sit next to Alec at one of the tables.

“Good luck,” Jace told him.

A few moments later they saw Magnus follow Alec outside, the prom leaflet still on his tray as they left.

Magnus followed Alec as he led him to his secret place, which was hidden from any other students, and sat and ate his lunch.

Alec looked at him as he ate.

“Thanks for sharing this place with me,” Magnus said as he sat next to him, his shoulder brushing Alec’s. Nervously he asked him, “Would you be my date to the prom?”

Alec nodded at him as he took another bite of food.

“Good! You are the only one that I want to be with, my soulmate.”

Alec blushed as he lowered his head and then raised it again to look over at his soulmate, trying to summon up enough courage to give him a small kiss.

Alec moved closer to his soulmate and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Magnus could feel himself blushing at the action, but it felt right. He felt completed. This was what happiness felt like.

The End!

[holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight]

Hands to Myself - Part II

Summary: After Alec comes out to his family, Jace drags Alec to an LGBT friendly strip club so he can ‘expand his horizons’ since he hasn’t even attempted to date or meet anybody new. Alec reluctantly agrees only because he’s grateful Jace is so supportive. While there, his eyes land on an intoxicating man whose body moves so fluidly Alec can’t keep his eyes off of him. Once Magnus is alone with him, he, too, finds himself enraptured by the younger man.

Rating: MA

Genre: Smut, Romance, Friendship, Everyone is Human AU

Author: dylanobrienstyler

A/N: I did my best to be as realistic and accurate as possible so please forgive anything lacking in that department. Please be aware I upped the rating on AO3 from Mature to Explicit FOR A VERY GOOD REASON. The smuttiest, gayest thing I’ve ever posted on here, dear god I’m trash for these smitten kittens.

Title inspired from Selena Gomez’ song of the same name. This is the final part of the two-part series. Feedback of all kinds is very welcome!!

Also can be read on AO3!

Part I on Tumblr can be found here.

Chapter Two - Corruption

Magnus had left Alec alone in the room hours ago, yet he swore he had left a piece of himself behind too.

He had gone back to work, trying to compartmentalize his thoughts as he usually did so he could focus on putting on the best show he could, but his mind drifted against his wishes. He certainly hadn't expected anything that ended up transpiring in that room when he first heard he had been requested for a private dance.

His eyes found the man he had just soloed for shortly after his return to stage, Alec meeting up with a blonde man around his age at the bar and heading out of the door immediately. He felt his heart sink at the concerned looks shared between the blonde and the bartender, knowing both were questioning what had upset the boy.

Magnus swallowed his pride and concentrated on the music, effectively pushing Alec to the back of his mind now that he had left the building for good.

Thankfully, his shift was only a couple hours longer and finally closing time came around. Magnus rushed towards the back room, ready to gather his things and get the hell out of there. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts; he'd clean up and take off his make-up at home.

"Everything okay with you, Mags? Maia said you stole someone's puppy earlier." his coworker and long-time friend Dot said as she sat down next to him.

"I did what?" he couldn't help but ask, bewildered by the statement.

Dot smiled a little. "One of your private requests. She said he left looking like someone stole his puppy. Did you reject him or something? Turn down a marriage proposal?"

Although it wouldn't be the first time he would've had to do so, at least the former, Magnus shook his head. "No, nothing like that. Just a little… sexual awakening for the young man, I think. Always a little rough."

Dot nodded sympathetically. "You've just seemed off since then too. Anything you want to talk about?"

Magnus cast his eyes around to see they were alone, some of the others already gone and the few still around away in the showers.

He wasn't sure if he was ready to talk about it though. Despite spending a lot of the night thinking about it, it wasn't exactly something prideful he was looking to admit.

Unfortunately for him, she didn't miss the guilt settling on his face. "Uh oh. I know that look. Something happened. What did you do?"

"Now, why would you assume I'm at fault here?" he said, hand on his chest in mock-incredulity.

"Because I know you, Magnus. What happened?"

Sensing defeat, he sighed. "I�� I may have made a mistake with him. Broke a big rule."

Dot's eyes went round. "Magnus!" she whisper-shouted. "Raphael will kill you!"

"Not if he doesn't find out." he said, rolling his eyes at her dramatics. "Plus, he owes me a lot. I practically raised him."

"I don't think babysitting him every time his parents went away counts as raising him."

"It does when they were as absent from his life as they were."

Dot poked him in the shoulder. "Stop changing the subject. What. Did. You. Do."

Magnus exhaled, thinking back to the raven-haired boy. "Well, things were going well. Everything panning out as expected. He was shy and nervous but overly respectful, if anything. And then, to my surprise, in one heated moment, he leaned forward and kissed me."

His friend watched him carefully, seeming wary by his answer, as if waiting for more. "O-kay… here I thought it was a big deal. Sheesh, Mags, you know we've all had the odd one do that. Just because you didn't rat him out doesn't mean you're the devil. I mean, you said he was young, right? It was probably just a first timer mistake. It's not that wrong to let it slide."

He looked down, knowing he couldn't look his friend in the eye during his true confession. "Well, he pulled back in a panic, apologizing profusely, but I… I was the one who kissed him again."

This time Dot's jaw hit the floor. "Magnus!"

"I know, I know." he groaned. "But, Dot, I can't explain it. Something about him has me feeling a way I haven't in a long, long time. I haven't been able to get him out of my head all night. It's like he shoved all of my rationality and professionalism aside and nestled in like a stray cat."

Dot took his hands in hers, pulling out her best maternal intimidation look. "Magnus… you can't be doing things like that. Raph would lose his shit if he knew you were letting yourself fall for a client, and, more importantly, acting on it while you're working."

"I know." he said softly.

She squeezed his hands. "I'm sorry. I know you don't need the reminder. Are you going to see him again? See if something's really there?"

He blew out a breath. "Doubtful. I think I scared him off for good. That's what I get for freaking out after things finished up."

Dot nodded sympathetically. "Well, go home. Try to get some sleep. Maybe things will look better tomorrow."

Magnus half-shrugged, not even bothering to try to put his heart into her false optimism. "Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight."

Magnus threw his bag over his shoulder and exited out the back door, cutting through the alleyway in the hope of getting home faster.

He needed to get home, wash off, and hopefully rid his mind of the young man who had managed to reduce him to an adolescent with a crush.

"Hey, sexy. Did you come down here just for me?" a slurring voice came, browning teeth shining through a drunken grin as the man stepped out of the shadows.

Magnus felt his stomach clench. The last thing he could handle was one of the men from the club asking for more from him that he was giving. It wouldn't be the first altercation he had, and surely not the last, but tonight was not the night.

His jaw set. "No, I didn't. I'm just passing through. Excuse me."

Magnus made to rush by him, but the older man snagged him by the strap of his bag, pulling him back.

"Oh come on. I've seen the way you dance. You know how to give me what I want. And I want it now."

"You're going to have to look elsewhere." Magnus growled, wrenched his bag back.

The blow to his face took him by surprise, and Magnus found himself sprawled across the pavement before what happened caught up with him.

His arm stung and his hand reached up to touch his cheekbone, an angry mark no doubt forming from the hit he just received.

Instead of verbally responding, Magnus leapt to his feet with surprising speed and spun into a kick that hit the sleazy man directly in the chest, sending him soaring into a pile of garbage bags with a grunt.

"I have those moves because I do martial arts, prick." he spat at the man who was groaning, the wind knocked out of him.

Magnus rushed out of the alley and down the street. He was not going to wait around for him to gain his wits back.

God, he just needed to get home. Separate himself from human beings for a while. This night was just getting worse and worse. If one more thing happened, he swore—

But he was so distracted by his panic, he ended up running headlong into something solid, and, for the second time that night, he found himself falling backwards to the ground.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you." a worried voice came, and Magnus looked up.

He couldn't control his jaw from dropping.

The man above him seemed to recognize him in the same moment and froze.

"It's not your fault. It's mine. I wasn't watching where I was going. Thank you, Alexander." he murmured as Alec helped him to his feet.

"I… um…. Are you okay?" Alec suddenly asked, catching on that the no doubt bruise forming on his face was not from running into Alec's chest, however solid it may be. "You're bleeding!"

Magnus looked down at his forearm, where he had scraped it after he fell the first time, and forced a smile. "Oh it's nothing. I just ran into somebody who was asking for more than I was giving, and, you know, he didn't like hearing the word no. It's not the first time. Price of the business and all." he rambled, not even sure what he was saying anymore.

Alec's eyes narrowed in concern as he swept his gaze over the Asian man. "Can I walk you home?"

Magnus wasn't sure what to say. On one hand, he'd be breaking about the biggest rule in the business ever. You don't ever let a client know personal details about you, especially your home address. It couldn't have been a more stupid thing to do. Dot would kill him before Raphael even had a chance.

But something about Alec, from the beginning, made him trust that he was a good soul, so Magnus simply nodded, feeling the moisture push at his eyelids at the man's sweetness.

Once at his loft, the walk home virtually silent, Magnus dumped his stuff by the door and gestured Alec to make himself at home. Instead, Alec headed to the bathroom and managed to locate his first aid kit, before instructing Magnus to sit down and working on cleaning up his wounds.

"You don't have to do this." Magnus couldn't help but say as he sat pathetically before the man he hadn't stopped thinking about all night.

"I don't remember you forcing me into it, so I think it's safe to assume I want to." Alec teased gently, grimacing as Magnus' arm twitched when he applied alcohol to his skin. "Sorry."

Magnus shook his head to excuse his apology but didn't speak.

Once his scraped arm was cleaned up and looking less gruesome, one of Alec's big hands cupped Magnus' cheek to angle his face so he could get a better look at the mark.

"Whoever they were, they hit you pretty hard. You probably want to ice that to manage the swelling, but otherwise, I'm afraid you'll just have to wait for it to disappear on its own."

Magnus nodded, his eyes on the floor now, but Alec caught the drop of water that slipped from his cheek, and more followed against his will like a leaking roof.

Without a second thought, Alec moved to pull him into a hug, Magnus burying his face in Alec's shoulder.

"Shh, you're okay. You're fine. You're safe now." Alec murmured, stroking up and down Magnus' back, sliding up to nestle his fingers in his dark hair.

Magnus let himself be comforted. He knew he shouldn't, knew that it wasn't right to ask this of a stranger, but he hadn't felt this vulnerable in a long time. And he felt he could trust Alec somehow. He felt safe with him somehow.

It was part of the reason why he had screwed up so spectacularly at the club before. Alec had kissed him with such surprising gentleness that Magnus found himself completely lost in him and was kissing him again before his brain could catch up. And then Alec held his face in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. Even when he was free to touch him, a half-naked man he was clearly very attracted to, Alec stuck with gentle, tender strokes. Strokes that made Magnus feel worshipped, loved even. It was such a contrast to the usual groping and pawing he normally endured that he completely forgot that he hadn't openly volunteered to be alone with Alec of his own accord.

And then Alec spent so much time watching his eyes, not peering at his body like some sort of ogling ape. Magnus was literally gyrating in his lap and Alec was completely entranced watching his face, holding eye contact. It was so intimate it had made Magnus shiver. He had never experienced anything of the sort in the business. He had no idea what to make of the man.

Normally, he had a pretty good sense when a man was about to climax. There were signs of course, especially when you were as close as Magnus was to Alec at the time. He had felt the shortened breaths, the loss of rhythm in his hips, the hardness of his arousal pressing against him. He had known when he was close, even without Alec's whispered warning. In a typical scenario, Magnus wasn't one to wait it out, instead ending things before they got to the point of no return. Sometimes he didn't have a chance to break things up, but he'd at least move away to make sure they didn't soil him too. But with Alec, he wanted to feel him cum. He wanted to experience him climaxing, to feel him spasm in his arms. Alec had been so dignified when he came, the way he sang Magnus' name out like a prayer, the way his body arced and shuddered through every last spasm. He was beautiful. He was downright glorious.

Once the euphoria of bliss passed, Magnus realized he had messed up. That he shouldn't have done such things. And the guilt for taking somewhat advantage of the young man ate at him. Alec had signed up for a private dance, sure, but he didn't sign up for someone to reverse their agreement to watch him come undone. The show was supposed to be Magnus, not Alec.

So he folded in on himself, cursing his actions. He was the experienced, mature professional. He was the one supposed to be the one setting and maintaining the boundaries. And then the familiar look of shame had settled into Alec's features, and he remembered how inexperienced the boy was. He knew the look, knew the shame coating his skin was the fault of the fact that Magnus was a man who invoked such sexual pleasure that he climaxed right then and there. So Magnus crossed the room and praised the boy for his bravery, because he was brave. He not only gave himself over to a stranger, let himself be so vulnerable, but he had come to the club in the first place, agreed to something terrifying, and managed to do it all with great dignity and maturity despite his intense nerves. He knew many in a similar position who handled things entirely different and he couldn't help but admire him for it. He was on the difficult road to acceptance and part of that was the rocky pathway of enduring scary experiences like giving up control so you could feel what you really feel. He had a feeling Alec wasn't one to give up control easily either.

Magnus managed to get a hold of himself and pulled back from the kind man, blushing now. He wasn't sure it was noticeable given the mark on his face and his naturally darker skin tone, but he didn't want to meet Alec's eyes to find out.

"Hang on. I'll be right back." Alec murmured, disappearing again.

Magnus didn't really feel like moving anyways, the weight of the day pressing on him, and Alec returned a moment later with a bottle of make-up remover and some cotton facial pads.

Magnus felt the briefest of smiles ghost across his lips as Alec got to work cleaning off his face from the smudged, tear-stained make-up he was currently sporting. Well, if he was hoping to impress Alec on their next meeting, he was doing a bang-up job.

Alec worked silently, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked, and Magnus tried not to find it endearing. He had a feeling Alec was sort of the intense type.

"Better." he said after a few minutes, leaning back to admire his handiwork.

Magnus certainly felt cleaner. He stood gingerly.

"Thank you. I'm just going to jump in the shower really quick. You know, try to wash off that creep."

Alec nodded and Magnus disappeared into the bathroom, hoping the water would clear his head.

Alec sat on the couch after cleaning up everything he had dragged out there, drumming his fingers against his thigh. The way Magnus had stated it, he assumed he was expecting Alec to be there after he got out. Or should he leave? He wasn't really sure what the protocol was. Was there a guidebook for what to do when you walk your stripper home after he's been attacked and you gave him first aid?

Alec let his eyes drift around the room. He couldn't help but be amused at how Magnus-like the loft was. Eccentric, elegant décor and a lot of bold colours and choices. A lot like how Magnus dressed at the club. Alec figured the bold side to him wasn't an act.

Alec noticed some mail on the coffee table. They were addressed to Magnus Bane. So Magnus was his real name? For some reason, the confirmation made him smile.

The identified man returned after a few minutes in just a silk robe, hair damp but looking much more like himself, sans make-up. He sat next to Alec, sending him a tender smile.

"Thank you, Alexander. For everything. You didn't have to come to my aid like that. I appreciate your concern, however, and that you helped me in my time of need."

"It was nothing." Alec said, rising to his feet. This was sounding like a polite farewell, and he figured he should take the hint and get going.

Magnus watched him inquisitively. "What were you doing roaming around alone at that hour anyways?"

Alec corrected his throat, not meeting the older man's eyes. "I, uh, couldn't sleep. So I went for a walk."

"You do know New York can be a dangerous city to wander alone in, right?"

"Well if I didn't before, I certainly know now." Alec reminded him, a sly smirk resting at the corner of his mouth.

Magnus tried to hide a smile and failed. "Something troubling you, Alexander?"

Alec didn't know what to say. It was sort of awkward to admit that he had been so wrapped up in thoughts about Magnus that he hadn't been able to sleep. He lay in bed for a couple hours before giving up, even the alcohol he consumed not helping encourage slumber.

"Just… couldn't shut my brain off, I guess." he said with a shrug.

Magnus stood to meet him, noticing now the height difference between them despite having walked next to him earlier. Alec had been sitting for most of the night before that, so he hadn't quite seen it for himself, but he didn't mind it at all.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Feeling how you feel." Magnus stated.

Alec wondered in a panic if he could somehow read his thoughts, understand that Alec had developed stupid feelings for the man he barely knew in a very short period of time. But then he continued.

"I see it a lot at Pandemonium. Some people are comfortable with their sexuality, some are still battling some inner demons despite accepting it in some ways, and others are merely questioning. You seem to have mostly accepted yourself."

Alec nodded. "I, uh, come from a strict family who weren't exactly thrilled at the revelation. It's been… tough. Trying to balance being myself and being the son my parents want."

Magnus' eyes grew sorrowful. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I have really supportive siblings. Hence my reason for meeting you tonight in the first place."

"Ahh, your friend at the club?"

He nodded. "My brother Jace. Adoptive, technically, but he's been family long enough it feels the same."

"Any other siblings?"

"Two. My younger sister Isabelle and my little brother Max."

"So you're the oldest."

He nodded.

Magnus smiled, understanding the man before him a little more already. He had a certain level of expectations put on him, likely by his parents but no doubt by his own hands as well. Wanting to be a role model for his siblings, wanting to please his parents' wishes. Being gay under a strict household with all of those expectations hanging over your head would certainly be tough.

"What about you?"

Magnus shrugged one shoulder slightly. "Just myself, I'm afraid. My parents are long gone as well."

Alec's expression changed. "I'm sorry."

Magnus waved a hand, dismissing his concern. "It was a long time ago. I've done fine on my own."

After the words left his mouth, he wondered if Alec would agree, considering where they met. Not everyone supported the lifestyle he lived. He knew it could be tough to swallow.

And then of course, there was the way he behaved during their private session.

He took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as any, since the opportunity had presented itself. "I feel like I owe you an apology."

A line formed between Alec's brows, confusion etched on his face. "Why?"

"For what happened earlier tonight. At the club."

Alec felt his skin burn hot in embarrassment. Oh god, Magnus had read his mind and he was going to let him down gently. Apologize for leading him on. Tell him about the psychological facts behind clients falling for strippers, throw statistics at him so he didn't feel like a complete freak.

He should just run. Just run straight out of there and never look back.

But he was glued to his spot, eyes completely locked on Magnus.

"I… I crossed the professional line with you. It was my mistake. I shouldn't have taken things as far as I did. It started catching up to me after we finished up that I was taking advantage of you…"

But Alec cut in. "Taking advantage of me how? I kissed you first, remember?"

"That was just you, being caught in the moment…" Magnus dismissed. "I was the one who took things further."

"Did you hear me complaining?" Alec asked, flaring up a little at the idea of Magnus beating himself up over the best part of his night. "Magnus, I literally got off while you kissed me because I enjoyed it so much. Do you honestly think I hadn't been wanting to do that all night? I wanted a lot more than that, but I didn't want to push and get kicked out or get you in trouble and I thought it was all me and you were just being good at your job… I couldn't sleep tonight because my mind kept drifting back to you, wondering if I upset you or grossed you out when I came in my pants like a pubescent schoolboy…"

Magnus didn't even realize he had stepped closer until he felt Alec's body heat bleed into the thin layer of his silk robe. He clued in rather quickly how undressed he was.

Alec was standing before him, chest rising and falling rapidly from his passionate argument, and Magnus felt longing light up his spine.

"Alexander…"

Alec looked down, seeming to try to gather his thoughts. "Look, it's fine that you don't feel this… connection to me that I feel to you. I get it. I'm young, I'm inexperienced, and I'm the last thing someone like you would be interested in. But don't try to push the blame onto yourself for the sake of my dignity. I know I screwed up. I'm sorry for that. I signed off on that stupid rule list and I still managed to mess up. But I know it was one-sided and you were just being nice, to make me feel less stupid. So don't… don't try to spare my feelings by blaming yourself."

Magnus was finding himself stepping closer, straightening up his posture to level with the man better, his air entering and exiting his lungs quicker too. He couldn't believe the blasphemy coming from the younger one. Did he really have no idea how captivating he was?

"Quite the contrary. Feeling you get off nearly set me off too, or could you not feel how aroused I was? My job, normally, is the very opposite of arousing, despite what it might seem. It's all groping hands and emotionless exchanges, faking smiles and attraction while going off to gag about it later." He turned away in shame. "But then I'm with you and I'm ready to climb you like a tree… The things I want to do to you, Alexander…"

And that was all he could take. He wasn't even conscious of his actions. All Alec knew was that he was suddenly crushing Magnus against his chest, lips descended on his as he kissed him fiercely on the mouth.

Magnus faltered a little, surprised, before groaning and knotting his fingers in his black hair, kissing him back just as hard.

This was the kind of passion he had been missing from the boy earlier—the guttural lust that he was acting on now made it clear he was as deep in as Magnus was. He loved the tender, gentle side too, but his attraction to the man before him left his desire running the show.

Alec was backing him up to the couch, causing Magnus to perch on the edge of the arm rest, stretching desperately to reach him. Alec's hands tucked under Magnus' thighs and guided him to wrap his legs around his waist. Magnus wasted no time in acquiescing, tugging his locked legs so their pelvises could meet deliciously. Alec wasn't the only one who whimpered at the friction. There were so few layers between them, but somehow too many at the same time.

For someone inexperienced, Alec certainly appeared to know what he was doing. His hands had found Magnus' lower back and was helping to support each thrust his hips pushed forward. Magnus' fingers tugged on the hem of Alec's shirt impatiently, and Alec yanked it over his head as if clothing was the most inconvenient thing invented. It almost made Magnus laugh right then, despite the heat forming between them.

But then Alec's mouth was placing scorching, open-mouthed kisses along his throat and he could barely concentrate on anything else. His fingers scratched at Alec's scalp, encouraging his motions, tightening his legs around his waist so he knew he very much liked what he was doing.

Alec's lips closed around his Adam's apple, smirking a little at the way it bobbed in retaliation, and then he switched to nibbling at the junction between his neck and collarbone, his hot tongue lathering over the spot as some sort of sensual finale.

All Magnus knew was this had to be one of the hottest make-out sessions he had had, and he wasn't exactly an innocent when it came to lovers.

His fingers found Alec's waistband and he worked on getting his zipper down and freeing the hardness he could feel beneath the material. His mind was so clouded with arousal he didn't even think to stop and ask if it was okay, his mind completely forgetting that Alec was less experienced despite his expertise showing otherwise.

But Alec seemed just as desperate, stepping back from his tight hold so he could push the pants over his hips. He kicked them away irritably before going back to what he was doing.

Magnus distracted him by finding his mouth with his own again, his nails scraping through Alec's chest hair and down to his toned abdomen. He'd have to ask him about his workout regime later because Alec could very easily blend in at Pandemonium with the incredible body he had. Magnus' hands could barely find a spot to stay, wanting to touch all of him, to fully consume the man before him.

There was a happy trail of dark hair leading to below his boxer brief's waistband, where the bulge of arousal was pressing against Magnus. He finally gained enough oxygen to fuel his brain cells into speaking coherent English.

"Alexander… are you sure you want to keep going? This feels like it's heading in a very specific direction and I don't want you to feel like you have to do this to keep me interested. Trust me, I'm interested. In more than just your body."

Alec was panting hard now, leaning his weight into Magnus to keep himself steady. His hair was mussed, lips plump and dark, and Magnus was a little proud at how thoroughly corrupted he looked. He looked like walking sex.

"I know. I am for you too." he said, and Magnus shivered at the husky quality to his tone. "But this… feels oddly right. I don't know how to explain it, but I've felt magnetized to you all night… It feels like this, me and you, was inevitable."

Magnus' eyes widened at the proclamation, surprised at the confession that coincided with his own feelings. He had felt a pull to Alec almost instantly and he too felt as though there was something stronger dragging them together.

"Okay. But you tell me, no matter how far things get, if you want to stop at any time, okay?"

Alec nodded, pulling him into another deep kiss to distract him before he jolted his own hips to help gain leverage to lift Magnus up into his arms. Magnus whined into his mouth, pressing his body flush against his lover's, and Alec attempted to find the bedroom without separating them too much.

"We could've done things out there, you know. I wouldn't have minded." Magnus teased against his ear as Alec climbed on top of him on the silk sheets.

Alec rolled his eyes. "Forgive me for wanting to be a gentleman."

The look of adoration Alec had caught at the club earlier in the night shone through Magnus' eyes again, and this time Alec leaned down to kiss him softer, slower, taking his time to tumble his lips over the other man's.

Magnus immediately met his pace, hands sliding languidly down Alec's muscular back, skimming across his ass and back up again.

He didn't miss the little twitch his intimate touch invoked, and his lips curled up in a smile against Alec's mouth.

"Shut up." Alec grumbled.

Magnus laughed, effectively breaking the kiss. "I didn't say anything."

Alec chose not to respond, instead zoning his eyes on the gaping robe. So far it was only giving him a good view of the expanse of Magnus' chest, but he knew it was hiding more. More that he couldn't wait to reveal.

But of course, his nerves were beginning to settle in. It was only natural now that his adrenaline was dying down. His instinct had taken over when he was fueled by frustration and pent up sexual tension, but now, as things settled into a more comfortable rhythm between them, his anxiety found time to awaken.

Magnus seemed to catch on, his eyes reading the change in expression. Alec had been completely dominant and in control when his body was leading things, but now it seemed his mind was battling to overthrow it.

"Hey. We can take things slow." Magnus reminded him.

Alec breathed through his nose. "I just… haven't really done… much of anything. I wish I knew how to avoid disappointing you."

Sensing his emotions catching up with him, similar to at the club, Magnus tugged so Alec was lying next to him, switching to his side so he could look at him properly.

"Alexander. Don't psyche yourself out. I may be experienced, but this is my first time with you, which makes me vulnerable too. I don't know your preferences, or what you like. It's about discovering each other, and sometimes it can be a bumpy road. We just need to communicate with each other and try to relax and enjoy it."

Alec remembered a similar spiel at the club before his private dance and exhaled slowly. He was right, of course. Alec just had a hard time convincing the rest of him to stop thinking and let himself go.

Magnus reached out to touch his face, rubbing his thumb across Alec's cheekbone. "The only way you will disappoint me is if you don't speak up when you're uncomfortable in any way, okay?"

Alec finally found his lungs working on their own better and nodded.

Sensing a win, at least for now, Magnus crossed the distance between them and began kissing him again.

Alec forced himself to relax and focus on the feel of Magnus' mouth on his own, moving closer as Magnus' tongue licked its way inside his mouth.

He hooked an arm around Magnus' waist and lifted him so he was lying on top of his chest, causing Magnus to twitch his hips in reaction.

"What?" Alec couldn't stop himself from asking, wondering why Magnus seemed to enjoy that quite a bit.

He rolled his eyes to the heavens. "I'd explain, but then you'd probably argue with me for ten minutes, and I'd rather get naked with you."

Alec's body was the one who reacted that time, his bulge of arousal nudging against Magnus' growing erection.

He moved forward to kiss him again, and, with newfound confidence, began slipping Magnus' robe down his arms and off the bed in a graceful swoop.

Finding the strength to open his eyes, he let his eyes roam down the length of Magnus' body, and just as quickly threw his head back against the pillow in anguish.

Magnus tried to keep his amusement at bay, instead kissing along Alec's neck at an attempt at a distraction.

"Like what you see?"

Alec turned his head and made a muffled groan into the side of the pillow. "I'm most definitely gay. Didn't really doubt it before but there's no denying it now."

Magnus grinned, and Alec couldn't help but smile as he gazed back at him. It was still pretty surreal that he was in bed with the magnificent man that he was. That Magnus wanted him too.

Determined not to waste a minute of it, he cradled a hand behind Magnus' head and pulled him into a heated kiss, hissing in desire as Magnus deliberately rubbed his hardness into Alec's clothed one.

Alec bit his lip as he wriggled underneath Magnus, slipping a hand between them to push his underwear down.

Magnus caught on quickly and helped him remove it, giving a similar noise of appreciation Alec had allowed his nakedness.

Both bare-skinned and exposed, Alec wasn't really sure what to do next. He knew this was sort of the beginning, and he knew from his own personal education on the matter about the logistics to get to the end, but the middle where things got built up to reach that end, he wasn't so sure.

Thankfully, Magnus knew was he was doing and stretched above him to get at his night table drawer.

He slipped a bottle out of the wreckage and left it to the side as he crawled up to meet their mouths again.

"I'm going to touch you, okay?"

Alec made an unintelligible sound but nodded quickly, bracing himself for the oncoming pleasure so he didn't lose complete control. Still, when Magnus' slicked hand made contact with his sensitive flesh, his hips bucked upwards into the closed fist against his wishes.

Magnus didn't let it slow his motions though, his strokes starting out slow and lengthy before picking up pace.

"Magnus…" Alec moaned, arching his back to get himself closer to the tightness surrounding him.

He was gorgeous like this, Magnus couldn't help musing, as Alec gripped the silk sheets in his fists, his skin flush and his body in complete control again. Seeing him losing himself to his pleasure was intoxicating.

Alec's hand clawing at his arm caught his attention and he slowed his hand's movements.

"It's too good… I don't want this to end so soon…" Alec mumbled, his voice catching when Magnus' wrist twisted a little as he removed his hand.

Once he had a hold of himself, Alec propped up on one elbow and scooted over to where Magnus was lying. He wasn't really sure what he should do next, but he knew he wanted to try being a more active participant. The only thing was that he had never tried anything sexual on anyone else before, so he wasn't exactly confident in how to get Magnus to the overly pleased mess he had managed to get him to twice in one day.

However, what Alec lacked in experience, he made up for in determination, and he was damn well determined to make Magnus feel even half as good as he had made him.

"Can I touch you too?" Alec murmured, the idea already making his skin shiver.

"Of course." Magnus replied, fingers teasing at Alec's dark locks. He seemed so very at ease, and the comforting feeling of his hand in his hair gave Alec an idea.

Shimmying down the length of the bed, Alec got comfortable on his knees on the rug. He made sure to pull the lube down to his end and spread his hands up the tops of Magnus' thighs.

Magnus seemed to catch on to where he was going since he exhaled heavily, his body curling up on itself in preparation of what was to come.

Alec ran his thumbs up his inner thighs, spreading his legs a little more and trying to figure out how to best situate his lover's body. He hadn't ever had something of this nature done to himself but had seen plenty of visual evidence during his time alone, so he guided Magnus' legs over his shoulders and nestled himself closer to the heated flesh before him.

He was happy to see his own pleasure had had an effect on the older one's anatomy, and he grasped the firm appendage in his hand. With a drizzle of lube on his palm, he slid his hand down to the base, somewhat fascinated by the neatly trimmed hair around there. He supposed Magnus' lifestyle sort of dictated things like that, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't lessen some of the intimidation of taking him deep into his mouth.

Magnus had only twitched under his touch, remaining quiet so far, and Alec had a feeling it was to avoid scaring him off. He was practically equivalent to a skittish deer; one wrong move or slightest of noises, and off he would run, never to look back.

However, once Alec let his lips surround the head, Magnus let out a guttural moan that sounded near primal in nature. It made it very hard for Alec not to grin in pride.

Instead, Alec ventured further, using his hand to massage the opposite end as he kitten-licked at the tip and along the length. He tested different techniques, using different pressures and amount of tongue, soft kisses and hard sucks along the skin and behind to where his other sensitive flesh lay, but the best was the most obvious—when he took Magnus fully in his mouth.

Magnus keened once he was fully enveloped in Alec's mouth, his fingers raking through his hair in encouragement. He was trying to control his hips from thrusting forward into the wet heat, knowing that that would be too much too fast, but it was extremely difficult, especially when he sat up to see the twinkle of utter excitement in Alec's eyes.

Alec sucked deeper, breathing better through his nose now that he was starting to get the hang of what he was doing and the nerves were subsiding, and he tried his best to apply pressure with his tongue to the vein pulsing beneath the shaft. The weight of Magnus in his mouth was oddly satisfying, Alec gradually taking in extra length as he tipped his chin to let more of him in, and Magnus' shaky petting to his hair alerted him that he was doing just fine.

After a few enjoyable moments, Alec pulled back, mostly to gulp in oxygen, but he let the tip of his tongue slide between the glistening slit at his head, and Magnus' whining gasp was proof that his instincts were better than he anticipated.

He couldn't stop the proud beam from gracing his face and he climbed up the length of Magnus' body, pressing kisses all along the definition of his torso as he ascended and then across the expanse of Magnus' handsome face. He was especially tender over the sore spot on his cheekbone, wanting to leave a different reminder on the painful skin.

Before Alec could ask about borrowing a toothbrush, Magnus pulled him into a heady kiss, knocking Alec breathless for another time that night. He didn't seem to care where his mouth had been, more focused on making his gratitude known.

"I want to try something else. If you're up for it." Alec explained quietly, once they had managed to separate.

Magnus, intrigued, slipped his fingers between Alec's, interlocking their hands. He squeezed reassuringly. "What's on your mind?"

Alec bit his lip, not really sure how to voice what he was thinking without stumbling on the words in embarrassment. He wasn't one to expose himself so bare, despite what his current attire dictated.

His tongue wet his lips before he spoke. "I wanted to… try taking things… one step further." He peeked up to read Magnus' expression, hoping he'd understand what he was getting at.

It seemed to dawn on him a moment later, eyebrows jumping in surprise.

"Alexander… You know penetration isn't the only way to have sex, right? That's a heteronormative idea that's outdated. What we've been doing, what other ways we can give each other pleasure… all of that can fall under the same realm as intercourse."

Alec nodded. "I know. I just… I'm curious." he mumbled, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks now. "I'm sorry. We don't have to. If you don't want to, it's fine—"

Magnus cupped his face with one hand to turn his face to him. "I didn't say that." he said softly. "I just don't want you to feel like we have to hit every item on a checklist tonight. I don't want you to be a one-night stand, Alexander. I want to get to know you more, inside and outside the bedroom. But if you're eager to try more tonight… well, I'm up for that too."

Alec's eyes went round. "Really?"

Magnus chuckled. "You are really oblivious to your allure, my dear."

Magnus sat up, crawling down to where the lube was and slicking his own hand up with it. Alec was confused at first before Magnus lay back and spread his legs, and then, well, he was rather distracted watching Magnus touch himself where he couldn't see.

Magnus spoke as if he wasn't intimately engaged in his own foreplay. "Did you have preference on position? I figure it'll be easier due to my past experience if you top this time around."

Alec nodded quickly, trying not to jump out of his skin. It was already so much. He was secretly grateful Magnus was taking care of things himself, as he wasn't sure he could handle it after how incredible the night had already been. The fact that he held it together so far was a tough feat.

"I probably won't last long." Alec admitted, wondering if he was setting Magnus up for something he couldn't see through to the end.

Magnus tugged his hand in his own so he moved closer. "That's okay, love. I'm enjoying just being with you."

Alec smiled into their kiss, finding it easy to relax when Magnus was kissing him so tenderly. Even in the more heated kisses, there seemed to be some hidden gentleness behind each brush of his lips, as if marking him with affection every time their lips met. It was tantalizing, getting lost in the warmth of Magnus' mouth, his tongue, the feel of his hot breath intermingling with his own. Alec almost forgot what was yet to come until Magnus was moving his legs to encircle Alec's waist.

Alec got to his knees on the bed, looking down at his lover, who was glistening with a light sheen of sweat due to the night they had had already. Strands of hair were sticking to his forehead, his swollen lips between his teeth, but his eyes were bright and sparkling with something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I've opened myself up some. It may take some time but my body should adapt once you're inside me." Magnus explained, fidgeting on the bed so he was at a better angle.

Alec felt his legs quake, unable to believe what was happening. How the hell did he even get here?

Magnus held up a hand and stretched to dig into his drawer again, producing a foil packet.

“Magnus, I’ve never… been with anyone else. And I trust you.” Alec told him, eyes darting away a little in bashfulness.

Magnus smiled as he helped him put it on. “I trust you too, Alexander. And Raphael forces us to get monthly screening tests, even if it hadn’t been ages since I’ve been with anyone. But it also makes for an easier clean-up, you know.”

Not able to argue with that, Alec waited until he removed his hands before he concentrated on the task at hand.

Inhaling a deep breath, he pushed himself closer, grasping onto Magnus' thighs to help guide his body correctly to where it needed to go.

The first nudge into the ring of muscle nearly made him collapse onto Magnus' chest, it being too long in the evening since he had been touched there, and Magnus reached up to press encouraging kisses to his chest.

Breathing in again, Alec rocked his hips forward, and this time it was Magnus who reacted, his back curling as he dug his head into the mattress.

A spark of confidence lit inside Alec's chest, and he gripped Magnus' thighs tighter as he did his first proper thrust.

Another groan sounded from the man beneath him, and Alec wasn't sure if it was pleasure or pain, or maybe a mix of both.

"Keep going." Magnus rasped, clutching at Alec's back now for something to anchor himself to.

Alec obeyed, rolling his hips again, and again, and Magnus was soon meeting them with a thrust of his own. The tight fist that had grasped Alec earlier was barely preparation for the feeling of Magnus' taking him in. The hot clenching around his arousal was making his breaths come out in short spurts, feeling the fire lighting his spine like a flame getting out of hand.

Alec clasped one of Magnus' hands in his, fingers interlaced, digging their locked fist into the mattress as his other arm supported him above him as he snapped his hips up into his lover earnestly, chasing the burning that was finding his nerve endings. He hoped Magnus was as close as he was.

Magnus was a writhing mess below him, having left scratches on every bit of skin of Alec's he could grab, clawing at his back with his free hand as Alec found his sweet spot.

It seemed he knew as soon as he had, since he moved a hand to tug up Magnus' thighs so he could hit it again, and Magnus was seeing stars behind his eyes as he wheezed Alec's name like a plea.

And then Alec was falling, hips losing all rhythm and control, legs quaking as his back bowed in defeat while his orgasm ripped through him like a grenade. He was burying his face in Magnus' chest, higher octave whines slipping through his lips as he endured the best high of his life.

Magnus was spilling through his own shortly after, sucking in bursts of air as his body rumbled through the current of white hot pleasure.

Alec stayed inside him for an extra moment, reveling in how intimately close he felt with another human and one so special, before freeing them both and flopping in a heap next to Magnus.

He removed the used contraceptive, tying it in a makeshift knot before sending it sailing into the garbage bin next to the night table.

Once back to earth, Magnus leaned over the edge of the bed and used a fallen throw blanket to clean them both up some. Then his hand settled into Alec's damp hair, teasing the strands while Alec caught his breath.

Alec finally rose his head to take in his expression.

All he was met with was a lazy, loving smile and he couldn't help but return one of his own.

"Sleepy yet?" Magnus murmured, settling back into the pillows.

Alec simply grumbled like a moody cat and nuzzled into his side, curling his leg around Magnus' thigh and listening to the steadying of Magnus' heart as it calmed into a slower pace. Magnus' knuckles ran light strokes over his back, until they too slowed and sunk to a simple, loving hold.

Once Magnus was safely in dreamland, Alec realized he hadn't exactly told anyone where he was going earlier when it was simply a night walk through the city, as the last thing he expected to happen was to be falling asleep in the arms of a man he was crazy about.

Managing to find his phone in his discarded clothes while still holding on to Magnus with one arm, Alec sent a quick text to his brother.

Hey, so, you know how I said I wouldn't find my romantic awakening at a strip club? Yeah… about that... How do you think Mom and Dad will take me dating a stripper?

[sultaiascendancy-blog]

Since magic origins we gotten roughly half human/ non-human planeswalkers in cards. Counting Angrath getting a card, we got 17 human walker cards and 16 non-humans planeswalker cards. Also except for magic origins, conspiracy 2 (which was tied) and Amonkhet each block since magic origins has had more non-human planeswalkers then human planeswalkers.

Yeah, it’s true that the total number of post-Origins planeswalkers have been pretty much 50/50 when it comes to human versus non-human. BFZ was 60/40 in favor of non-humans. SOI and Kaladesh were 50/50. Amonkhet was 60/40 in favor of humans. If you want to count planeswalker decks, Kaladesh’s and Amonkhet’s were 50/50 as well. Ixalan block is shaping up to be either 60/40 or 40/60, with the planeswalker decks being either 50/50 or 75/25 in favor of humans. It depends on who the non-Angrath planeswalker in the main set and non-Vraska planeswalker in the planeswalker decks end up being in Rivals.

But none of that was what I was addressing. I’m primarily concerned with new planeswalkers. And with new planeswalkers, it’s not close to 50/50 at all. Our eight most recent new planeswalkers have been Narset, Kaya, Dovin, Saheeli, Arlinn, Samut, Huatli, and Angrath. Notice any trends? 6 out of 8 are human. Those same 6 are all female. 5 of those 6 are women of color, with the remaining one (Arlinn) being white but older than most planeswalkers, thus still functioning as representation. It’s also worth noting that since Tarkir, there’s been one such planeswalker (representative human female) in every block save BFZ, as well as in Conspiracy. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing, it’s just that every one of these planeswalkers comes at the expense of another potential planeswalker.

The remaining two planeswalkers, Dovin and Angrath, are male and non-human. That means that only 25% of new planeswalkers recently have been non-human (or male, but I’m more concerned with human versus non-human than male versus female). In a game with dozens of interesting fantasy races, most of which don’t yet already have planeswalkers, making three-fourths of your new planeswalkers human despite already having twenty human planeswalkers is absurd. I think that the number of non-human planeswalkers should increase for the following reasons:

1. People request non-human planeswalkers all the time. People often have said “please make a minotaur planeswalker”, but I’ve never seen anyone say “please make another human planeswalker, we don’t have enough”. People do ask for planeswalkers with certain attributes, which often implies that they should be human, but it doesn’t necessarily have to. I’ll explain this further in number 3.

2. The current method is only giving us male non-human planeswalkers. It won’t be long before people start complaining about how there are too many non-human male planeswalkers and not enough female planeswalkers - even though people, maybe even the same people, asked for more representation. Personally, I don’t think this is a huge issue as long as the genders end up somewhat balanced in the long run, but I do think it’s important that we get at least a few non-human females and human males for planeswalkers. 

3. With a little creativity, representation can be accomplished with non-human planeswalkers. Human planeswalkers are created by default whenever WotC is trying to check a box. But there are times when other fantasy races, especially those that are more similar to humans, could be used instead. WotC definitely needed to make an Indian planeswalker with Kaladesh, especially after making the mistake of giving a very white planeswalker a very Indian name. But Kaladesh’s dwarves and elves are just as Indian as the humans, aren’t they? They technically aren’t humans, which might diminish their representatives effect slightly (although I would argue being an elf is an improvement on being a human), but it still works pretty well and it’s a nice compromise between those who want representation and those who want non-human planeswalkers. I think that the vast majority of us would have been happier with Rashmi as a planeswalker and Saheeli as a UR artifact legend.

An actual example of WotC using a non-human as representation is Ashiok as a nonbinary planeswalker. Aetherborn serve a similar role but without being a planeswalker. Ashiok is one example where not only can a group of humans be represented by a non-human planeswalker, but in this case it even seems to work better that way (people living in chaotic, war-torn fantasy worlds based on history or mythology seldom have time to contemplate gender identity, so a character who was born without gender accomplishes a similar effect without unnaturally forcing something from the real world into a fantasy world).

WotC has also made a bisexual planeswalker in the form of Chandra, and it’s natural to expect that other planeswalkers representing the LGBT community are on the way. I’d expect a gay planeswalker, a lesbian planeswalker, and a transgender planeswalker within the next few years. I hope that when doing so, WotC remembers two things: first, that these planeswalkers don’t need to be new. For the gay and lesbian planeswalkers, at least, they could simply reveal that preexisting planeswalker has been gay or lesbian the whole time, similar to what they did with Chandra. This would eliminate a few options like Gideon, Jace, and Liliana, but most other planeswalkers are still on the table. We only get a couple of new planeswalker spots a year so there’s no need to make a new one for something an old one could easily do. And if anything, having an existing planeswalker come out or be revealed to be gay is more impactful than making a new one from scratch. A transgender planeswalker would probably be better if they started from scratch, but gay and lesbian could easily be done with preexisting characters.

Second, I hope they remember that these planeswalkers don’t need to be human. Characters of any race in Magic can be gay, lesbian, or transgender. Granted, a gay or lesbian planeswalker needs to, you know, actually do gay or lesbian things in the story, so it would be best if they’re either of a race that appears on many planes, or of a race that can interbreed with humans, like an elf. Obviously there won’t actually be any sex scenes, but a human-minotaur relationship would still make a lot of people uncomfortable whereas a human-elf relationship wouldn’t. In general, I’d say to avoid anything based on an animal, but things like elves, dwarves, and kor are all on the table.

Representation can also take the form of things like age and body type, which once again can be conveyed through non-humans. Granted, these things lose some of their intended effect when they get too far away from being human, but anything close to a human can work almost as well as a human can.

Now, there are certainly times when a human planeswalker is needed. Kaya was long overdue as the first black female planeswalker, and trying to convey that through anything other than a human would have been a complete failure. The same thing applies to Huatli, who obviously needed to be human.

Also, if any of this sounds like I’m saying that each of these groups only should get one planeswalker and then the box is checked so to speak, that’s not what I’m saying. Multiple planeswalkers for the same demographic can and should exist, and I wish as much as anyone that a lot of the white male planeswalkers made in the earlier years of planeswalker cards had been something else. But when making a planeswalker for representation, it’s worth considering making them non-human if the representation can be conveyed through a non-human, especially if a planeswalker representing the same group already exists.

4. Non-human planeswalkers are often more interesting than human ones. Humans are the most generic race in Magic. We all can agree on that. Other races have interesting physical traits as well as personality traits that go along with being that race. When you make an elf or vedalken or minotaur planeswalker, you already know something about that character. Half the work is already done for you.

Humans, on the other hand, don’t have any particular direction for personalities, and often end up feeling generic. Also, the high number of human planeswalkers makes it much more likely that a human planeswalker ends up feeling very similar to another human planeswalker. And when human planeswalkers are used as representation, which they almost always are nowadays, they often end up being underdeveloped, and I think that’s because WotC is afraid of offending or stereotyping the represented demographic. Granted, they should try to avoid doing so, but not at the expense of interesting characters.

All of the human planeswalkers we’ve gotten recently have been used as representation, which is fine, but all those planeswalkers have also been clear protagonists. They haven’t been morally grey characters at all. Additionally, they don’t really have flaws, even the things that could be flaws end up being helpful. Narset has autism, but it only ends up helping her advance in the Ojutai. Samut is a social outcast and later a criminal, but only because she knows the truth that no one else knows. These characters don’t have flaws, or negative qualities, or setbacks. Their character traits are minimal and their story roles are small. In my opinion, Dovin and what little we’ve seen of Angrath so far look much more interesting, but they’re clearly not afraid of making morally grey or antagonistic characters with actual flaws.

I’m not saying this because I’m against female characters or representative characters in general. I want to have those characters. But I want them to be interesting. They deserve the same treatment that other characters get - real story roles, along with the flaws and character development that goes with it. Of our recent human planeswalkers, only Samut really got a major story role, and even she was a typical flawless “chosen one” who was the only person who actually knew what was good and evil. That’s not an interesting character. I’ll try to keep an open mind with Huatli, but already they seem to have made her and her faction into clear protagonists, even going so far to as to make dinosaur-riding Aztec warriors use non-lethal battle tactics, as if that makes any sense.

5. The “short list” of non-human planeswalkers is much longer than the short list of human planeswalkers. Non-humans have more design space than humans, so to speak. Let’s list the non-human planeswalkers that people might want to see that don’t exist already:

Aetherborn

Ainok

Angel (would require special circumstances, but we have a demon PW)

Aven

Djinn

Dryad

Dwarf

Faerie

Giant

Flamekin

Khenra

Loxodon

Naga

Orc

Orochi

Siren

Sphinx

Treefolk

Viashino

Here’s a list of representational planeswalkers that don’t yet exist that people might want to see:

Gay

Hispanic

Large Body Type

Lesbian

Middle Eastern

Native American (North American rather than South/Central American)

Pacific Islander

Transgender

There are a lot that we already have - black (male and female), East Asian (male and female), South Asian, Eastern European, Greek, Native American (South/Central America), older, bisexual, nonbinary, amputee… granted, the above list might not be complete, and I’m sure that there are others people could think of. There are also probably others that people could think of for the list of planeswalker species. This is just off the top of my head, and not exactly scientific by any means, but the point is that there are a lot more fantasy races to still represent than there are things that need to be human. And even some of the ones on that list could be non-human… like I said, what’s stopping a non-human (but not too non-human) planeswalker from being gay, lesbian, or fat?

Now granted, real-world representation is a higher priority than fantasy representation, because one represents real people and the other doesn’t. They also work better in multiples - having multiple planeswalkers of a certain race or sexual orientation is better than having multiple elves or dwarves. But still, both are things that people request. If you see this as a checklist, we’re checking boxes on the second list way more quickly than the first (three times more quickly, to be precise), even though the first list is much longer. If you want something on the second list, you’re guaranteed to get it soon, but if you want something on the first list, it could be years or decades before they make a planewalker of your favorite fantasy race, if they get around to it at all.

I think it would be good to make non-human planeswalkers more often and human planeswalkers less often. Instead of doing a human in every block, how about a new non-human in every block? Instead of non-humans only when there’s an opening, how about humans only when there’s opening (or a necessity)? Still make human planeswalkers if for no other reason that representation at regular intervals, especially when there’s a good opporunity, but it doesn’t need to be constant. There’s a lot more design space for non-humans than humans, so I think they should start exploring that design space and stop putting if off.

Maro even said that Angrath was made only because fans requested more non-humans, which means that if not for public outcry he likely wouldn’t exist. That’s pretty disturbing because making non-human planeswalkers seems like only an afterthought to them, something that they only do on the rare occasoin that they remember or when fans beg them for it. We get new human planeswalkers every block and non-humans only once a year, if even that. In my opinion, they should slow down on the humans and start making more non-humans.