#if someone sees this please watch rune soldier I beg of you

[chickenballs64]

I love obscure 90s animes with no fans

[twinferns]

wandavision finale, and i have thoughts

im truly speechless.

if you haven't yet watched yet it prepare to cry.

spoilers below the cut

- so we really just jumped into it huh? right back in the street.

- let me tell you i cackled when wanda threw that car at agatha, and the wicked witch reference? amazing

- UH WHITE VISION BIG SCARY NO THANKS

- YUH JUST AS I PREDICTED, WHITE VISION GOES FOR WANDA BUT REAL VIS SWOOPS IN

- it shouldn't be but peter fietro pietro holding monica in his man cave is sending me

- the white vision/thanos parallels are both so cool and heartbreaking, like how he went straight for the mindstone i-

- MY MAIN MAN JIMOTHY WOO BACK AT IT AGAIN - FLOURISH

- can agatha shut up for one god damn minute about yOuRe GoInG tO dEsRtRoY tHe WoRlD

- oh ho ho sarah monica returns this is very disturbing

- all this pietro/peter/fietro build up for a BONER JOKE - oh so pietro (please idk what to call him someone help) was ralph all along? then why did they cast evan peters? and then how would he have super speed?

- this is breaking my heart, poor wanda is trying her best but it's all too overwhelming this is gonna make me cry

- HAYWARD BETTER GET HIS UGLY ASS AWAY FROM THE OPENING OF THE HEX

- i need therapy after watching vision nearly disintegrate again, and the twins falling apart, im gonna sue kevin feige for emotional distress, you have no idea how much pain i felt watching billy and tommy screaming for their mom

- oh god the family group huddle was so cute but then agatha had to go and ruin it

- petition to let wanda have one minute of pure happiness, 60 seconds, that's all, just give her a god damn break please im begging you marvel

- "boys, handle the military. mommy will be right back" I SCREAMED OMG

- BILLY AND TOMMY ARE THE POWER DUO WE DESERVE - what kind of fucking psychopath would shoot at fucking children, and then upon seeing someone step in front of them KEEP FUCKING SHOOTING - bless monica rambeau for willingly taking bullets for billy and tommy without knowing that she was bullet proof

- "nice tricks." "i like yours too" THEYRE TOO CUTE - DARCY MY ICON BEATING THE TRAFFIC JUST IN TIME TO ABSOLUTE WRECK HAYWARD, "have fun in prison!! :)"

- lmao not the visions having a battle of philosophy they would, but like real vision made a good point about who the real vision is and the ship of theseus

- white vision really said "gtg have an existential crisis!"

- agatha really uno reversed on wanda

- not vision shielding the twins im gonna cry not like im crying already or anything

- PERIOD WANDA USING THOSE RUNES HUGLYFKHJ - "but i dont need you to tell me who i am" AND THEN THE GOD DAMN COSTUME SCARLET WITCH COSTUME SHE LOOKS SO DAMN AMAZING AND IM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND - yes wandaaaa slurp that power out of her like a smoothie

- well ig agnes is back?

- their walk home literally made me cry, like it feels like a walk home on a warm summer night after a fun family outing to a restaurant or something, and the kids are jogging ahead laughing and playing, while the adults stay back and watch fondly but it's the last time theyre walking home together and now im sobbing

- can someone please edit a gifset of the first ep when vision carries wanda through the front door, and the last where they close the door for the last time i will love you forever

- no you dont understand i have no words for the amount of sadness i felt watching them tuck the twins into bed, and making it all domestic and fluffy but in reality their world is closing in on them and-

- "boys, thanks for choosing me to be your mom" the emotional damage this did to me

- the vision goodbye scene messed me up big time

- "you are my sadness, and hope, but mostly you're my love" im not kidding when im say that im making kevin mf feige for my therapy

- "we have said goodbye before, so it stands to reason..." "we'll say hello again" if this isnt a tease that vision is coming back im screaming

- "so long, darling" so much pain

- it feels like narnia where they come out of the wardrobe and nothing has changed, like wanda's just standing in the empty lot as if nothing happened

- MID CREDIT SCENE OMG FURY IS SENDING FOR MONICA OMG OMG OMG - end credit scene too babeyyyy

- i respect my girl for retreating to the mountains after that, but she's astral projecting??? while her body does stuff??? is she gonna try and search the multiverse for the twins??? bc if that screaming told me anything, it told me that the twins are coming back

- so i dont think wanda is gonna be a true villain, but the world is gonna perceive her as such, and she's gonna have to work to redeem herself in the eyes of the world

im winded yall. this is has been a long journey since jan 15, and we made it. all i gotta say is i lowkey miss the standby scene

ill see yall in like two weeks for falcon and the winter soldier, gonna go binge all of wandavision to feel something again!!

[st-just]

Some writing from a game

Because I’m like..60% happy with it and I feel like it should have a potential audience of, like, at least a dozen people. 

(Also, if you look very closely you might be able to see the influence of the last couple things I read)

The palace of the Melquart was as poorly defended as she had been promised – the nephilim garrison were either dead or damned, depending on the rumour you believed, and either way far away in the old capital. The local troops were mostly gone as well, sent to suppress a rebellion among the hill tribes – by the time they realized the reports and requests for aid were forgeries, it would be far too late. Even the guards which remains wouldn’t prove much use, their evening meal having been liberally spiced with sedatives to leave them slow-witted and sluggish. Everything was, in short, exactly how Itireae ir’Naeh had been promised it would been, carefully arranged to ensure the once-princesses homecoming would be as smooth and frictionless as possible. Not that she looked much like a princess anymore, of course – months of exile in the badlands had taken their toll, even before the injections of quicksilver and adamant had left her with monochrome eyes and sickly blue veins pressing against her skin. Still, she would gladly make every sacrifice and compromise over again, if it brought her here. After all, what good was a child who wouldn’t do what was necessary to avenge their father? With her new sight, the iron frame of the palace’s upper windows shone in the pre-dawn light, and it was a simple matter of will pull herself towards them – by now the pulsing, burning pain from her veins was almost a comfort, as she gracefully flew through the night to alight on the windowsill. It hung open in the warm fall air, and it was barely any effort to pull herself inside. She moved fast. Even if she couldn’t see the golden treasures piled high in the Melquart’s bedroom, she knew her way their by heart. She passed five guards on her way, and four four didn’t break her stride – a handful of iron needles pulled from one of the pounces hanging off her belt and pushed with more force then an a longbow towards each made sure they never got up. The last was someone important – a royal bodyguard or captain, sleeping on a bed in the antechamber to the Malequart’s apartments. He she recognized – he had just as happy to have a place of honour at her fathers side, before the giants called down fire from the sky and massacred his entire host. And so she paused and drew her glass daggers, and took the time to make sure he recognized her before she let him die. The Melquart was a Lumor, god-blooded, close to three yards tall, with flowing, braided crimson hair and a matching beard which grew fiery in truth when he was enraged – as he was now, charging through the door of his apartments in nothing but a robe, sacred and deadly bronze axe held in both hands, to find his bodyguard bleeding out before him. Which nicely distracted him as Itireae sent the first barrage of iron needles and blades flying towards him from her perch on the ceiling. His roar as the blades dug into his back and spilled his sacred blood was so loud it was almost painful to hear. But then, she wasn’t the intended audience – and his divine grandfather seemed to understand perfectly. The room filled with a wrathful and ruddy light, and Itireae had to leap to the floor to avoid the blast of divine fire the lumor threw from his hands, letting out a gasp of pain at her awkward landing on the stone floor. The holy runes etched on the Melquart’s axe glowed with an angry red light as he approached her, nothing but pure, deadly rage in his words. “I don’t know what you are, but if you start begging now I’ll just cut you down. Keep fighting, and you’re going to suffer. Burning slow so all the other humans know the penalty for striking the blood of the Sun.” Whatever reaction he expected, Itireae’s unsteady laughter wasn’t it. Her hands trembled as she spoke, grabbing a thankfully unbroken vial off her belt. “Me? I’m no-one, not after tonight. Just one more debt you monsters never bothered to settle.” She poured the vial down her throat, and tried to ignore her body screaming in protest as she started burning its contents before they were metabolized. A thin trail of black, acrid smoke leaked from her mouth, as her veins began to glow an unearthly blue. And the Melquart, axe raised for a killing blow, staggered and gasped in pain. Her fingers were bloody, gripping the seams between stones on the floor to keep from being slammed into his chest – but it worked. His fire went out as the light faded from his eyes, the blades buried in his back pulled through his heart and lungs until they pierced the skin of his chest as well. She made sure, of course – used her glass daggers to cut his throat and put out his eyes, and open every major vein and artery. And then, satisfied, she set to work cleaning up after herself. It was close to noon when she finally limped to their meeting place, lightly scorched from divine flame and throat too raw to speak from rushed alchemy. Still, her patron was waiting for her, wearing the face of the well-fed caravan driver she had travelled here with – though that disguise was beginning to crack, every hair already a pristine white and eyes faintly glowing, color starting to fade from their outfit. Turning to her with a slight smile and a nod, they said “Given the fire at the palace, I trust you have settled your personal affairs?” At her nod she gestured to the horses “Then we should be going. You have a higher purpose now, and the journey will give you time to consider a suitable new name.” They made good time on the trip south, as behind them the last vestige of Phanosine rule in the far east collapsed into succession struggle and anarchy. ----------------------------------------------- Tymon Sol managed to survive in the forest on his own for nearly two weeks. As soon as the strange, massive ships had been sighted and the chief and captains ordered their men to assemble, he’d heard the whispers of ruin and disaster on the wind. By the time the strange, green-coated soldiers had arrived and demanded unconditional surrender, her had already donned his mother’s mask and cloak, and taken everything he could carry. By the time the first cannon fired, he was so far away he could barely hear them. He had found an ancient tree, and made a camp beneath its canopy, hiding it from man and beast, rain and wind, anything the flew or crawled or bit or stung. Since then he had almost never taken off the cloak or mask – hiding him from anything but the spirits, and letting him see their guidance to the food and water he needed. All of which was to say, he had finally begun to feel safe. And so he was not at all prepared when something was waiting for him. It was dressed like an officer of the soldiers who had invaded his village, though its uniform was decorated with gold brocade and some sort of extra decoration. And otherwise totally devoid of color – snow white hair, pale skin, and clothing that remained pristinely and perfectly white even as it stood in the mud and leaned against his tree. Its eyes glowed faintly with a cold light, and when he looked at it he saw all the spirits who had protected his camp had shied away from touching it. It, meanwhile, looked down at a pocketwatch in its hand with apparent fascination. Either unable to perceive Tymon beneath his cloak or unconcerned with his presence as he stared and froze in panic. After a long, terrifying minute the watch let out a chime and it spoke in a soft, pleasant voice. “You are quite difficult to find, ghost-child. Before your spirits gaze I swear not to harm you, but I hope you will not force me through this effort again.” Trying to remain calm, he circled around it, trying to see if there were any other soldiers. Eventually, satisfied to find no footprints or hidden men, he responded, speaking from the mouth of a bird perched above her. “What do you want, then? You’re one of them, aren’t you? The soldiers who destroyed my home?” It sounded genuinely sorrowful as it replied. “That should not have happened. My peer was here as a mercenary, a role which does not agree with them. They were needlessly harsh, in the interests of haste, and the marines followed their example as well as their commands.” “Then, what, you’re here to say you’re sorry? Offer to build me a new house? I swear I won’t accept an-” “Please listen before you speak rashly child. I am not here to offer empty words or simple blood money. Might you here my offer, before you reject it? If you do, then I will accept your answer, should you desire, leave you be.” “...alright, fine. Talk.” “Your family is fascinating. Five generations of power and worth carefully gathered, every action judged, the petty gods of nature whispering in your ear, whatever life you wished to have forgotten under the duty you inherit. It’s a great burden, for someone so young. And it will not grow any easier – the island’s new princes are brutes, liars and cheats. You could resist them, and see your family suffer, or serve them, and forsake every fragment of purpose within you.” “My family? Who do you mean? Have you done anything to them?” It smiled, slightly. “Yes. One hundred thirty-eight potential heirs, although beyond the first dozen they are wholly unprepared and would despoil your inheritance quite quickly. And absolutely nothing, beyond identifying them. I would like to help them, offer them new lives with warm homes, food and medicine, and the assurance that they will never have to worry about being hunted down. But for that, you will have to come with me first. You will do good on a grander scale, and in return none of them will ever want for safety or comfort. Would you not at least consider the deal?” It paused then, waiting for a response. Tymon didn’t have one. After a silent eternity, it closed the pocket watch and gave a slight shrug. “I will return at this time tomorrow. I hope you will be here.” It walked out of the tree’s canopy and stood in the sunlight, took a deep breath and looked directly at the sun. And then it was gone. Tymon spent the next day and night performing every augury who could think of – it had never been a talent of his, truthfully. But the answers were all resoundingly clear. When the soldier in white returned the next day, he was waiting for it. -------------------------------------------------------- Three months latter, and the people who had once been Itireae and Tymon were ready. The ritual was not exactly difficult – it did not take a great deal of power, and could theoretically be performed anywhere. But it was exceedingly intricate and precise. Hira stood before the two kneeling inductees, both dressed in the dull grey robe and bright red fez of a Janissary without official rank. The room they stood in had, minutes before, been almost claustrophobic. But as the seven layers of exactingly drawn circles on the floor began to glow and turn in time with some grand cosmic clockwork, the walls and ceiling faded away. They were outside, and the night sky was bright and full of stars – though the constellations were foreign to them, and the light cold and alien. “Do you forsake inheritance and legacy, kith and kin, family and tribe? Do you forswear all covenants you have made, and revile all those who would demand your loyalty by love or affection?” The two answered at once “I do.” “Do you pledge yourselves to the service of Principle, to the creation of a rational and compassionate world, and the interests of the Esheri Republic, selflessly and without expectation of or right to comfort, safety or power?” “I do.” “Do you accept your role as the agents of history, and that you will be called to use and expend yourselves as necessity requires, without regard for you own selfish wants or particular affections, and will die and be forgotten with no memorial but the world you will help create?” Again they replied “I do”. As they did, the alien starlight seemed to solidly around them, pouring down their throats as they spoke, marking them indelibly. Hira smiled widely, opening her arms in welcome as she spoke “Then rise, Avra and Erem, and join us in engineering paradise.”

[jaskiersvalley]

just read thru ur whole blog instead of finishing my midterm that i forgot about that was actually due on march 17 and can i just say thank u i don't think i've ever enjoyed hours of procrastination this much 💕💕 (also rip in absolute pieces to the fact i actually have to work on my midterm now)

*Looks at calendar* Well, it only took me a month and a half to get to your ask. I do hope your midterm went okay and you managed to get it finished! While I’m super flattered that your procrastination involved my writing, I’m also feeling a little guilty for distracting you. In honour of the time lost and as thanks for your lovely ask, please have some time related angsty shenanigans.

CW for injury and character death (which is rectified through implication and screwing with time).

Time had a funny way of working. The war was in full swing, Jaskier traipsed after Eskel, writing songs about witchers and their deeds. But Nilfgaard had been gaining ground, there were whispers of a witcher with a child surprise that was taken from him. When winter came again, Jaskier couldn’t go to Oxenfurt, he’d been outed as a spy for the resistance and had a considerable bounty on his head. With nowhere else to go, Eskel offered him sanctuary at Kaer Morhen. He’d been there once or twice before, was familiar with Lambert and Vesemir. They often spoke of another, Geralt of Rivia. Sometimes they were fond, other times they cursed him.

This winter was different. A portal opened up one afternoon and a haggard looking witcher staggered through with a sorceress in tow. They snapped and snarled at each other, obviously tied by destiny against their will.

“Geralt,” Vesemir rose from his seat and looked over the two new arrivals. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Cirilla wants revenge.” Geralt coughed. “She thinks witchers stole her childhood. She wants to obliterate us all.”

There were murmurs from the others and they were all clamouring to get more information. In the end, they settled with some drinks so Geralt and Yennefer could explain. Jaskier listened raptly, sat next to Eskel and looking to him from time to time.

“Cirilla is hellbent on destroying and conquering. Nilfgaard had taken her from us.” Geralt looked utterly world weary. More so than a witcher usually did. Jaskier would know, he’d spent enough time with Eskel to pull him out from a mindset of exhausted self-loathing. It looked like Geralt could do with someone too.

“Yennefer and I were too busy arguing, at odds over where Cirilla would serve best. She wanted Aretuza, I thought Kaer Morhen. Anywhere but Nilfgaard would have been okay. But Cirilla had enough. After one too many arguments, she slipped away one night and went to Nilfgaard, probably to spite us. She now rules with an iron fist and has a thirst for vengeance.”

When Geralt broke off, Yennefer picked up, “There is no winning. She’s collected all manner of allies from rock trolls to dragons. The resistance is dying if not dead already.”

“So you came here to die?” Lambert spat, angry.

“We came here for help,” Geralt corrected sharply. “Yennefer and I weren’t enough. But we found a way that might change the future.”

“What could another witcher do that the White Wolf couldn’t?” Eskel asked.

“Nothing.” It was Yennefer who cut in. “But your bard might be what we need. At every key moment in time that Aretuza had been able to discern before it was obliterated, he was doing something significant. Not enough to change the tide of the war. We think that in a different timeline, where he is the court bard of Cintra, he will be able to influence Cirilla. I can create a time stone, he can pick a moment in time to jump back to and try and change this whole mess. The key objective is to ensure Cirilla likes witchers and sorceresses.”

If anybody had asked Jaskier, he would have called bullshit on the whole thing.

“We’ve seen how he worked wonders with witchers in the public, his songs about the Scarred Wolf and his deeds are sung across the Continent.” Yennefer finished. “I will make the stone and have it ready for tomorrow afternoon. So I will ask that we have a decent meal this evening as it shall be my last.”

Silence filled the room before Vesemir nodded. There was no other choice. Contracts were thin on the ground, people were turning against witchers once again and it seemed that Nilfgaard was coming to Kaer Morhen. That night, they ate and drank as much as they could, knowing that it would be their last.

Yennefer retired to a room. There was no fond farewell between her and Geralt but a slight grudging respect. That night, the witchers stayed up late, staring silently into the dying fire, making peace with their lot.

By morning, Nilfgaard was advancing on the keep, humans and monsters alike bore down the path.

“We’ll need to get Jaskier to the eastern clearing,” Geralt said. “Nothing else matters. Lambert, Eskel, you’ll take flank, Vesemir, you’re rear and I’ll take point. No matter what, we get the bard to the clearing with the stone.”

Everything was left behind in the keep, nothing to weigh them down, not like they were going to have anywhere to go from the clearing anyway. It was a dead end and no escape. In a way, it was brave of them to assume they would make it as far.

When Geralt left to retrieve the stone, he looked grim. It was in a bag, glowing red through the material.

“It’s all of Yennefer’s chaos and time granted to her. Don’t waste it.” Geralt shoved it at Jaskier. “We need to move out. Now.”

There was nothing left to do but go. As agreed, Jaskier was in the middle, hemmed in by four witchers. They started off at a light run, determined to get as much distance covered as possible before Nilfgaard caught up.

It started with small attacks. Forktails and dragons trying to pick them off. At least their swords and signs could fend against the worst, even if Lambert cursed at the burns that ended up covering his arms when caught by surprise from the side.

The creatures were gaining on them, while the witchers could pick up speed, Jaskier was a human and had much more severe limits. He panted and gasped even as Eskel tried to urge him on.

“Keep going we’re almo-” His words were cut off with a grunt as a leshen stepped out from the trees, caught him in his midriff and sent him crashing through the woods. Jaskier turned in time to watch a pack of werewolves jump at him, tearing him apart without mercy.

It was a lot harder to run when tears were blurring his eyes. Almost thirty years by Eskel’s side and this was the unfitting end. Jaskier wanted to stop and cry but Geralt was moving on while Lambert and Vesemir took posts just behind and to the side, completing a triangle.

The clearing wasn’t too far now, it couldn’t be. To Jaskier it had felt like they’d been running for hours. From ahead, there was the whistle of arrows and he ran harder. A thump from behind and Jaskier turned, letting out a strangled gasp.

“Don’t turn around. Keep going.” Lambert snarled as he took rear post, Vesemir lost behind them with arrows riddling his body.

Up ahead, Jaskier could see the clearing and he pushed harder, knowing that some kind of rune circle would help him with the time stone. Someone grabbed him from behind and all but threw him into the clearing. He landed with a pained cry and watched just in time for a dragon to snatch Lambert while another attacked Geralt.

“Jaskier!” Geralt yelled. He was on the ground, blood coating half his face, matting his hair. “The stone. You have to!”

With trembling hands, Jaskier pulled the stone out. He could see Lambert’s broken body not far from Geralt and he sobbed. All he had to do was think of Cintra and then he’d be pulled back in time to the point where he could fix things. Because this wasn’t the end he’d hoped for, neither for himself, nor his witchers. The whole continent was a ghastly, tyrannical place. Soon there wouldn’t be anywhere that was free of Nilfgaardian brutality and oppression.

“Please,” Geralt begged and Jaskier looked him in the eyes, watched as he lay there, not even trying to evade the soldier who raised his sword. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jaskier still heard the sound the blow made. He didn’t want this. Clutching at the time stone, he wished and wished hard.

The world shifted around him, years fell away, aches and pains along with old injuries disappeared. Jaskier opened his eyes mid song, in a tavern. He was eighteen again, a whole life ahead of him. It wasn’t Cintra, that was for sure. Some backwater settlement on the edge of the continent. Looking around while singing, he tried to figure out what he was doing in such a shithole. As he spun, he spotted a figure in the corner, alone and brooding. White hair, armour, nobody going near him. He’d recognise Geralt anywhere. Finishing his song and being pelted by bread, Jaskier took a breath. If this was his mission, he’d accept it. Eskel had been a wonderful travel companion but time obviously thought he was the wrong witcher if they wanted to survive Nilfgaard’s attempts. Jaskier took a deep breath, thinking “well then”, it was time to make things right.

[bytheangell]

Gallery of Broken Hearts - Part 2

(Read on AO3) (Read Part 1 on Tumblr or AO3)

Maryse arrives at the Institute in record time for someone with no access to portals or a speed rune to activate. She meets little resistance at the entrance - Isabelle intercepts her almost immediately, silencing the Shadowhunter at the door with a single look before ushering her inside. Maryse shrugs off her jacket as they walk now that she’s out of the brisk October air - she never realized how stifling the Institute could be until she was free of it. “Isabelle, what’s going on?” It will help to get some idea of what she’s walking into here. Alec has never been an overly emotional person and the boy she spoke to on the phone sounded so lost, so broken, that he hardly sounded like Alec at all. In fact she’s positive she hasn’t seen him cry since he was probably five or six years old…. Possibly longer. That’s her fault - her failing in not allowing him to feel safe in coming to her when he was hurting. She’s glad that doesn’t hold true now, though she wishes the situation never arose for her to realize it.

“Alec broke up with Magnus,” Isabelle says. “He… by the Angel, Mom, I told him not to. I didn’t think he was going to do it so quickly, I thought I had time to talk to Magnus, to talk Alec out of it…” Isabelle is keeping pace with her mother’s long, determined strides.

“But why? He asked for the ring, he was going to propose , I just don’t understand what happened to change things so drastically, so fast.”

“Let him tell you. It’ll be better coming from him, I think. Just… he’s not doing well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this upset. He’s trying to put on a brave face but he looks worse every time he disappears for a while then comes back out. I already tried the ‘you fucked up, now fix it’ approach but I think I only made things worse… so try to be supportive, alright?”

It’s an ominous warning, especially considering the frustration she felt after speaking with Magnus that morning. How can Isabelle expect her to be supportive of something that clearly hurts the both of them so much? If neither of them want this, then why is it even up for debate?

They reach his door and Maryse knocks. “Alec? Alec, it’s me.” She goes to turn the door handle and let herself in (he is expecting her, after all), but it doesn’t budge. He locked himself in. She waits for him to come and let her in instead.

“Come in.” He barely cracks the door open before moving away from it again, back into the room. “Close the door,” he adds, sounding wary.

She does as she’s told, immediately noting the curtains drawn closed and the dim lighting once the hallway light disappears behind her. Even so she can see he’s been crying - his eyes are red and swollen, the skin raw from wiping at it too frequently.

It breaks her heart, and she suddenly has no problem finding that sympathy Isabelle encouraged her to have, wrapping him in her arms and holding him tight against her; the moment she does he dissolves into sobs. This is the second time she’s been in this position today, and it hurts worse than the first even though this time she goes into the moment expecting it.

Not that a mother can ever be truly prepared to face the total heartbreak of one of her children, to see a level of pain in their eyes that she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.

Alec’s crying stops abruptly and he pulls away with a sniff. She watches his gaze grow confused, brow pinching together for a minute before frowning as his eyes fixate on the dark stains on her dress. She’s suddenly acutely aware of the lingering smell of Magnus’ cologne (or possibly shampoo?) on her from earlier.

“Mom… what were you doing when I called you?”

“I was in the shop,” she replies innocently enough, buying herself an extra moment or two to decide just how much of her morning she wants to share with him. How much would help and how much would hurt, at least until she has a better idea of what happened between him and Magnus the night before.

“He came back to talk to you?” Alec asks, confused, trying to piece together the scene in his head.

Maryse shakes her head and sighs. “He never left. I found him there when I went back to open.”

She waits, watching Alec’s face fall at whatever image of Magnus he pictured in his mind while knowing that whatever Alec’s imagining couldn’t possibly hold a candle to how fragile Magnus actually was, and still is.

“How is he?” Alec asks finally, voice quiet. “How is-- I know I’m supposed to make you feel better, but I’m going to to lie to you. He’s a mess. And so are you. So why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“It’s for the best, you have to believe me. He’ll be better soon. He’ll be fine.” Maryse wonders how many times he repeated those words to himself in the past 12 hours. How many more until he might start to believe them. “I made a deal… a deal with Asmodeus, to get Magnus’ magic back. His condition was that I leave his son, and that Magnus could never know about the deal.”

Maryse watches the way Alec’s expression shifts during the explanation. Some of the sadness fades and is replaced with resolve, with that fierce determination to set things right that she watched him don time and time again during trainings or missions… the face of a soldier hardened against the sting of loss.  

She sees her son sacrificing himself once again for the good of someone he cares about, someone he feels responsible for. She watched him do it once before, nearly marrying a woman he didn’t care about  - couldn’t care about - for the good of their family. And now, for the good of the man he wishes was his family, he’s calling off not just a marriage but an entire relationship with someone he loves.  

Maryse Lightwood is tired of watching her son suffer for the sake of others. She knows it’s in large part because she raised him to shoulder those burdens whenever possible for his siblings and fellow Shadowhunters. These were the beliefs she instilled in him before she realized how wrong they could be to blindly follow… before she saw her son suffer through them time and time again.

“Oh, Alec,” she sighs, reaching for his hands.

“He begged me to stay with him and I walked away.” That resolve breaks again, fresh tears springing to his eyes. “I almost couldn’t do it, but I had to. He needs his magic back...”

“He needs you, too. I know what you told me about the dinner, but… This isn’t what he would’ve wanted, not for either of you.” She gives his hands another squeeze, trying desperately to think of a solution. Some loophole, some middle ground, to fix this before the damage is irreparable. “Last night, while he was helping me at the shop, he told me he wasn’t drinking anymore. That he was trying to get better at adjusting, because he didn’t know what he’d do without you.”

Alec winces, visibly flinching at her words. She doesn’t want to hurt him, that’s far from her intent, but he needs to know. He has to understand exactly what he’s doing before she stands back and watches him see this through.

“When I lost your father, and my runes, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you and Isabelle and Jace-”  

“Stop, mom, please. That’s… that’s different. He’s immortal. At least, he will be again, soon enough. He’s been with thousands of people before me and he’ll be with thousands more after me. He’ll be fine.” She searches Alec’s face for any sign he buys into a single word he’s feeding to her, practiced excuses no doubt already given to his brother and sister before her.  

“Do you really believe that? He sacrificed his magic for you, Alec. Do you really believe he thinks so little of you as to just, what?, shrug and move on, with or without his magic?” She can’t believe that. And neither can Alec whether he admits it or not. “What if getting his magic back isn’t enough?”

Alec freezes at the question, eyes wide as if he truly hadn’t considered the possibility that this deal might not solve all of Magnus’ problems. And then, very slowly, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper, he says, “...it has to be.”

A heavy silence falls between them. Maryse came over here for answers but now that she has them it only leaves her at more of a loss than she was before. There’s no quick fix for this, no advice that feels even remotely helpful.

“What do you need from me? What can I do?” She asks instead.

“Is M…” Alec starts, then stops abruptly before speaking again. “Is he still at the shop?” Her heart aches at the way he stops to avoid saying Magnus’ name.

At least knowing that Alec still loves Magnus makes it less likely she’ll be deemed a traitor for taking him in this morning. “No. I sent him back to my place to clean up and get some sleep.”

Alec swallows hard and nods. “Good. Can you just… keep an eye on him? Until his magic comes back, if you can? Or at least make sure he goes to Catarina’s, or… I just don’t want him to be alone.”

“Of course,” she agrees. She meant every word she said to Magnus the night before about caring about him, about considering him family. And this… this complicates things. But she isn’t about to abandon him, either. “You could come with-”

“No!” Alec practically yells the word. “I can’t. I could barely walk away from him once, I couldn’t… I’m not strong enough to do it again.”

Maryse wants to push him to reconsider but the time doesn’t feel right. “...If you’re certain.”

“I am. It has to be this way.” Alec confirms, blinking his vision clear again. “Give me a minute, I can grab his things for you.” He walks over to the wall and turns on the light, making quick work of gathering everything that Magnus brought with him from the Loft into a large duffle bag before handing it over to her.

“I don’t have to go back right away. I could stay here with you for a little while.” Maryse says, already knowing it’s pointless but offering anyway. She receives the exact response she expects from her son, as touching as it is heartbreaking.

“No. I’d feel better knowing someone’s with him. And I need to clean up and get back to work anyway. The last thing I need right now are rumors… the truth will be bad enough once it gets out.” She opens her mouth to argue that perhaps that isn’t such a good idea so soon, but bites down gently on her lip instead. At least if he’s busying himself with work for the day he won’t be sitting here alone, either. She can come back and they can figure out the rest later.

“Okay. Call me if you need anything. Anything , alright?” Maryse sets the bag down to give Alec another hug, with two extra squeezes before she lets him go again.

“Alright,” he promises, but when he takes a step back he looks like he wants to say something more. “I just-- thanks. For everything.” She nods, forcing a small smile onto her face she prays to the Angel looks more reassuring and hopeful than she feels, before leaving.

She has a lot to think about on the walk back to her apartment, not the least of which is what she���s going to say to Magnus. He’s going to want answers, explanations she can’t give him. And as much as she thinks Alec isn’t doing the right thing by keeping this from Magnus, by making this decision without his knowledge, it isn’t her place to tell him.

She just hopes she can remind herself of that often enough because the temptation is already there to go behind her son’s back and fix things with Magnus, magic be damned.

“Magnus, I’m back!” She calls into the apartment, but doesn’t quite yell, not wanting to wake him if he did manage to fall asleep since he got here. It’s quiet as she sets the bag down on the table and makes her way to the bedroom to check on him -- but he isn’t there. The sheets aren’t even undone from how she left them that morning.

“Magnus?” She calls louder this time, checking the bathroom next before the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach gives way to a full spike of anxiety when he isn’t there, either. She passed by the living room earlier but glances through again just in case, this time noticing the pictures. Every picture she has with Alec in it is turned down. One is broken on the floor. The only room left is the kitchen---

The sight of the empty bottle of wine left out on the counter fills her with dread. There’s a note left under it: ‘ Sorry.’ and then underneath that, in the smaller script of an after-thought, ‘ I won’t be a burden on the Lightwood family any longer. Thank you for your hospitality.’

Oh, Magnus.

She never should’ve left him alone. She doesn’t want to worry Alec, not when he can’t go after Magnus himself… maybe this is for the best. Magnus leaving them behind, trying to move on, it’s what Alec wants for him if he sees this through. But that doesn’t mean she has to like it, or accept it.

She pulls up his number on her phone and is surprised when he answers. “Magnus?” “Please don’t call me again, Maryse. I know you mean well, but this is difficult enough as it is.” His words are slurred, and she hears the noise of cars around him.

“You promised me you’d be here when I got back. Where are you?” She says quickly, before he can hang up.

“I’m just going to see an old friend. He should be here any minute, and then everything will be better again.” There’s a strange calmness to his words that makes her uneasy instead of reassured.

“What does that mean-”

“Ah, there he is. Goodbye, Maryse. Take care.” Magnus ends the call and this time doesn’t answer when she tries to call him back.

Everything will be better again .

She can’t imagine how, but she hopes for his sake that he’s right.  

[bbparker]

I Found You Part 3 (Loki Soulmate!AU)

Summary: (y/n)’s soulmate tattoo is Loki in Nordic runes and now thinks fate is playing with her and he doesn’t exist because they gave her a mythological god. During the battle of NY (y/n) happens to meet him but what occurs once the battle is over? 

A/N: Wow what a day trying to decide which series to update first! Remember to leave some feedback or just reblog! x

Pairings: Loki x Reader, Steve x reader

PART 2  ||  MASTERLIST

It’s been thirty days and all (y/n) has done is sit in solitude by the window of her seemingly shrinking space. Steve and Clint had come back and attempted to get her to speak or even eat but nothing seemed to work as the girl lost colour in her skin from lack of everything.

Lack of food.

Lack of water.

Lack of sleep.

Lack of soulmate.

The seizures continued with nurses constantly trying to rush in and help her only to fail as (y/n) flung them back with newly discovered abilities. Sitting by the window once again, (y/n) twisted her hands and a green misty glow began to form around her fingers; interlacing and twisting in the most beautiful and intricate ways. 

(Y/n) almost smiled, it reminded her of her soulmate. Closing her eyes, she tried to recount all the details of him in those very few moments she was granted with him. His raven hair, green eyes, skin smooth and smile mischievously devilish.  The way their faces were so close and his light touch behind her ear, right on her soulmate tattoo. 

He was just hers and in those few moments, she’d managed to become his too. Grasping her arm to her chest, the green disappearing, (y/n) closed her eyes to stop her tears. Loneliness was not a stranger to (y/n) but it sure makes it worse when that someone who could share it with you is gone.

(Y/n) hated it here and she’d be damned if she was kept here like a lab rat. But she was tired of everything; of life and people throwing her around like she was there to command. Why couldn’t she ever be free? (Y/n) was but a beautiful caged bird. Capable of magnificent things if it weren’t for the eagles that patrolled her cage, scaring her enough to remain within the cage.

On the other side of the glass, Clint and Steve stood, glancing at the shrinking woman. The evidence of malnutrition was becoming too evident for their liking. “Clint, what are we doing?’

“Depends on what you mean…”

“We know (y/n). She’s harmless- “

“Well those nurses probably won’t agree…”

Steve paused looking at (y/n) again, her eyes now closed. Steve knew this wasn’t right and he needed to do something. Steve, out of everyone, knew how she felt and being isolated was probably the worst thing that could happen to someone after news of their soulmate dying. (Especially if they didn’t know it was false.)

 “Clint-” “Look Steve! I know what we’re doing is wrong but it’s her or everyone else out there!” Clint snapping caused Steve to step back a little. He’d never seen Clint lose his cool before. Clint was breaking, cracking, watching a dear friend of his being treated like a caged animal. Clint caved, his emotions slightly hindering his speech as he attempted not to cry.

“She’s… she’d like a sister to me Steve and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t protect her, I can’t get her out of here- “

“We don’t need to,” Steve stated suddenly, a lightbulb going off in his head. 

“What? I was legitimately pouring some emotion on you and you’ve just interrupted-” 

Seeing the look on Steve’s face Clint continues, “I mean, what do you mean, Captain?”

“You saw her powers?” Clint nods, “and for all we know that’s just the beginning of her powers. We all know our powers grew stronger when we found our soulmate, what if hers are-” Clint interrupts, mind now on the same wavelength as Steve’s. “-Only weak right now because (y/n) believes Loki’s dead? I mean she looks like she barely knows how to use them but imagine what will happen if she finds out he’s alive?”

“She’ll definitely be angry but maybe that’s good. We won’t have to do anything.” Steve put his hands in his pockets and turned towards (y/n) once again.

“So, what’s the plan?” Clint asked, taking a similar stance to Steve.

“The plan is to get that girl out of this hellhole and get her away from this place.” A new voice piped in. Both men turned to find Tony Stark in the doorway with a reluctant Natasha Romanoff following in the doorway. 

“Finally, we agree on something.” Tony smiled causing Steve to smile back. “So, what is the plan?” Nat asked crossing her arms indignantly.

“Tell her.” Clint finally chimed, all eyes turning to him. “No, first we’ll get things set up. Times, people, everything. We have to tell her at the right time otherwise it’s hell and people get killed.”

 “Tony, she wouldn’t- “

“Steve, her soulmate is a killer, the god of mischief. You don’t think there must be some similar personality traits for fate to tag them together?”

“Nat, someone’s soulmate doesn’t determine- “

“Can you all just shut it!” Clint yelled, he had been watching (y/n) as they argued. Everyone went seemingly silent at the usually quiet man’s shouted request. Looking over his shoulder he decided, “We’ll tell her in time when there’s a more definitive plan. But for now, we wait.”

“For what?” Natasha asked reluctantly.

“Fury let slip about a little experiment on (y/n) they’re trying out-” Tony began.

“God Tony, no- “

“No, no Steve. That’s when we get her out.” Clint finished.  

“What about Laufeyson?” Steve asked.

“You won’t have to worry about him at all.” A small but strong voice came from the doorway. All the Avengers turned to find a woman in the doorway, arms crossed.

On the eleventh day in this hellhole (y/n) began lightly singing under her breath to keep herself from delving into her own mind again. She knew it must be some sort of insanity setting in. 

The pain in her heart had begun healing, she could feel it. Though her mind didn’t feel it, her heart hurt a little less than yesterday.

 “It’s a quarter after one and I need you now….” (Y/n) continued to sing before abruptly being interrupted by the clanking of her door. 

Men in black uniforms flooded in her doorway with stone faces. Ice descended upon (y/n)’s body and slowly she stood for the first time in days. Knees weak, a final man of the ten already in the room entered. All stood there as one with a clipboard continued to read it before throwing it on (y/n)’s unused bed. 

“It’s time to see those abilities of yours little dove.”

 A small flame flickered within (y/n) but not before it completely died. She couldn’t bring herself to care. Well, that was before a man revealed a pole with electricity running through it- a giant taser. (Y/n)’s heart jumped and a very loud thump came from the glass to her room followed by shouting. None of the men seemed to pay attention to anything but her, waiting. 

“On whose orders?” Hearing her voice for the first time in days, it cracked and sounded horse but (y/n) internally admitted it felt good. 

“No one you need to know about, dove, but they’re very interested in your assets.”

Finally, (y/n) threw her hand out and a man went flying into the wall, the remaining men running at her as she stood still, frozen. As the men tackled her, they fell in a big heap- completely falling through her. The men became confused, looking around to see (y/n) pulling the illusion back to her. 

The leader stood from being flung into the wall, “I see you’ve been practising …darling.” The flame roared to life, exploding, consuming and very destructive. (Y/n) roared at the supposed endearment and ran full pelt at the man, tackling him. (Y/n) wasn’t able to get far as something burnt her side and caused her body to convulse.

The taser stick was taken away but her body still reacted, shaking on the floor there was nothing she could do as they hit her. Multiple swelts forming on her body. Kick, taser, punch. Something bubbled within (y/n) yet again, a fierce force; ripping, tearing, demanding. It tore through her body and with a great bang and a flash the men were sent flying back as a scream seemingly louder than a jet plane left her mouth. 

All the glass in the room shattered as anyone within the vicinity covered their ears.

More footsteps entered the room and (y/n) stood with the little strength she had, ready to fight, to die. 

“I can do this.” Her light-headedness slightly proved her wrong but when (y/n) saw who she’d have to fight, she knew that there was no chance. Steve and Clint rushed towards her as she collapsed, with Clint just managing to catch her. 

“I-I can’t. Just kill me already.” Steve’s saddened eyes never left her eyes as she stared at him, practically begging.

 “Please, Steve, just kill me.”

Clint eyes watered, her isolation had stripped her of her strength and her will. She was the shell of the strong woman she used to be, Clint feared they may have left this escape too long.

“No, no. (Y/n) listen to me. Loki’s alive.” (Y/n) laughed lightly, coughing up blood which dribbled out of her mouth. 

“Crap, they must have broken a rib and punctured a lung or something.”

“I’m telling the truth (y/n). They have him held in the underground levels but we need to get you out of here. Please just don’t give up just yet.” (Y/n)’s eyes considered Steve’s before looking up into Clint’s eyes. Asking with just a look, ‘is it true?’ Clint only nodded causing (y/n) eyes to water. 

“Take me to- “

“We haven’t got time, we have to get you out of here now.” 

“No, we have to- “

Hearing footsteps down the hall, Steve took (y/n) in his arms and made his way into the hall and away from the heavy steps of foot soldiers. Clint followed behind, always checking over their shoulders. (Y/n)’s head lolled backwards, arms limp. The first time she has been out of the cell for nearly a week and all she sees is lights flashing by above her. The jostling causing groans from (y/n)’s lips, with Steve mumbling apologies.

Breaking out onto the street, the black van parked on the curb opened to show a bored Natasha and a keen Tony. Setting her in the van, (y/n) saw them closing the doors without Steve or Clint. 

“Wait…Clint!” She desperately called, she didn’t know these people. She didn’t want to be alone anymore, not after finding out he was still alive. The van took off quickly, causing her to slide back slightly.

“Who are you? Where’s Loki?” (Y/n) tried to ask but her head was pounding and she could nearly understand what was going on. 

“We didn’t have time to grab him, we’re taking you to a safe location far away from here.” A voice chimed from the front; a man with a strange beard.

A pinch to her arm caused (y/n) to suddenly turn to see a red-haired female injecting something into a tube which was connected to her arm. 

“What are you doing…? NO!” (Y/n) roared, realising they were trying to knock her out. Natasha went flying into the side of the van effectively knocking her out as (y/n) ripped the tube and needle from her arm and chucking it away. 

“Oh…shit…” Tony stumbled as the presence in the back opened the sliding door. “Hey! Hey, no don’t-” but it was too late to attempt to grab her. (Y/n) tucked and rolled out of the van causing some pained screams to fall from her lips.

Cars honked and people stopped to watch as a bloodied woman stood from the ground, delirious. Seeing the stares, she used off into the nearest alley. Though her mind was only half with her, (y/n)’s only thoughts were to get away. Get shelter.

 Loki.

[Part 4]

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