#shadowhunter culture

[tired-smartass]

I love the headcanon that the nephilim speak enochian as their first language

And honestly I can't decide if I like the general "enochian is gutteral and harsh sounding" or if enochian should be very melodic cause it is also the language of angels

So I think the headcanon changes based on what someone thinks about angels, cause angels were created before humans, they were weapons, inhuman and just looking at them could kill you of course enochian would be harsh words and sounds that mundanes can't pronounce

But on the other hand

Angels are also beings of light, of music and dance, they are inhumane because they are perfect, perfect children, perfect beings, perfect weapons of course enochian would be poetic and sharp, with every word so perfect and smooth that mundanes can't even hope to replicate them

[lawsofchaos1]

Shadowhunter Headcanon/Promptlet: Traditional Dress

Shadowhunters began separating themselves from the mundane world in the first or second century AD, and many of the ways they live in Alicante haven’t progressed much since that time, especially their manner of dress.

While those nephilim stationed at Institutes have transitioned into wearing more contemporary mundane-style clothing so they don’t have to be glamoured every time they leave their own enclaves, most nephilim still wear the knee length (or floor length) belted Roman tunics when at home.

In the six months or so they've been dating, Magnus has only ever seen Alec in mundane, era-appropriate clothing. Alec has been the Commander of New York for so long that he rarely has the opportunity to relax - even in his own rooms at the Institute Alec is typically in clothing suitable for quickly throwing patrol leathers over in emergencies.

However, when Alec moves in with Magnus, he realizes how much it means to him that Magnus doesn’t treat Alec as a guest or as company- but treats him as if he belongs there, as if his home is Alec’s home too. 

Alec loves seeing Magnus in his elaborate Consular High Warlock wardrobe, but he adores seeing him in a pair of soft leggings and a loose, comfortable T-shirt, something reserved solely for intimate nights spent relaxing together in the loft.

Realizing how much it means to him that Magnus is so overtly comfortable around him, Alec hopes the reverse might be true as well and impulsively decides to make an impromptu trip to Lightwood manor after a Clave meeting. The backpack with a few of his favorite tunics is unpacked at the loft later that day in just a few minutes.

The next night, Magnus emerges from the bath in buttery-soft, neon pink leggings and one of Alec’s old shirts. Alec swallows dryly even as Magnus’ eyes gleam in simple pleasure at Alec’s reaction while he demands Alec switch out his patrol leathers for something more comfortable before joining him on the couch. 

Alec happily agrees and heads into the bedroom to change. Tentatively, however, he reaches for one of the comfortably worn tunics he grew up associating with true relaxation instead of the sweats he learned to make do with in New York. 

[backpackingspace]

Givan that izzy was immediately like here's a sword I made you !!! :D :D :D the second magnus lost his magic, bringing people weird and dangerous weaponry like a crow bringing shining rocks is definitely part of shadowhunter culture

[destinysfairchild]

spot the difference level hard

[dayque]

Julian: I'm a little worried about Tavvy.

Emma: I see him perfectly.

Julian: Since he returned from his visit to the New York Institute he has been listening to Good Luck Babe non-stop.

Emma: Now that you mention it, Ty hasn't stopped humming it neither...

Julian: Are we in the middle of a homosexual crisis that we haven't heard about?

Emma: It's best to call Mark before panic.

Mark: Oh my angel, are you going to tell me that you doesn't know abot the whole Sabrina Carpenter tea? I am the one that lifes in another kingdom. Take a sit bro!

[thousand-winters]

I love KitTy but I feel like a reason why I don't like the way it's mainly done in fics (at least from what I used to see, I'm not sure how it's going currently) it's because they are suffering the "ship that exists in a vacuum" phenomenum.

Like we gotta remember that Ty is very close to his siblings and he has a shit ton of them. Yes, he's not talking to anyone aside from Dru about the Livvy matter and he's not talking about his feelings, but that doesn't mean there isn't love there, that they don't keep in touch and worry about each other.

And we gotta remember Kit is now living with Jem and Tessa and experiencing the wonders of being loved for the first time in his life. He adores Mina and he's happy having parents, he keeps in touch with Jace and others. He's terrified about them being hurt because of him due to the Mother Hawthorn incident but they're there and they care fiercely about him the same way he does about them.

There's only so much I can suspend my disbelief for the Blackthorns and Jessa not even being around while Kit and Ty are in danger or doing this or that. Sometimes Dru is the only one who cares and it feels weird.

Don't even get me started on the way both of them are VERY traumatized. Love ain't gonna fix them, man. They love each other and they sure have problems surrounding each other, very big problems. But Ty is dealing (or NOT dealing) with the death and unsuccessful resucitation of his twin sister and Kit is dealing with how Johnny never even loved him. To say one thing, because they have a lot going on.

All of that has to connect together and create the conflict, influence in the way the story goes.

I'm not saying "put all of this in a silly short story where they kiss", but I think it's important for their characterization to remember all these things that influence who they are as people and how they interact with the world, and I cannot be convinced to be interested if we act as if the only thing that ever impacted them was their disastrous "we are not even dating but we somehow had a horrible break up anyway" situation.

[cursed-byesexual]

My job interview is tomorrow and they'll probably review my documents in the following weeks. If you could spare a second, check out my art acc @little_blue_cup on insta and leave a like/follow if you see something you enjoy, I'd be super grateful. Its rough out here for small artists and its my dream job.

Plus there are tumblr appropriate bad puns in the captions 9/10 times.

Anyways, have a nice day and thank you for all the support I got on here!

[tallertysupremacy]

I’m obsessed with the difference in knowledge of mundane culture between the tmi and tda gangs. They really are like two entirely different species

TMI gang: “what’s eBay?” “You have a face that’s also a book?”

TDA gang: *debating who the hottest avenger is*

[rainbowsuitcase]

"Will I ever be able to love something the way my 13yo self loved 40yo men?"

I see this question and variations of it floating around often and, at least for myself, I know the answer - no.

Not because I've grown out of loving things. Or because I have less love to give now that I'm older. But because my thirteen year old self loved things in a way I could never replicate.

The way my thirteen year old self loved was loud. Everyone in my life knew exactly what to get me for birthdays and Christmas because they knew about every single one of my fixations and obsessions, because I announced them to the world the moment I found them.

The way my thirteen year old self loved was proud. I sent my friends fanart of characters they knew nothing about. I left analysis and essays and theories about my favorite tv shows in their messages even if they weren't watching it with me. Most of my clothes were fandom related, I had jewelry and keychains and phone wallpapers, I announced my love to the world every time I left the house.

My thirteen year old self was enthusiastic and unashamed and unafraid.

My thirteen year old self was also told to shut up. "You're annoying," I was told. "You should do something more useful." "Go study instead." "Can't you grow out of it already?"

Most of it, I was told by my own family.

So, my teenage self chose to protect myself over having fun.

I learned to love more quietly. I learned to shut my mouth instead of rambling about my favorite movies. I learned to keep my cards closer to my chest. I learned to confine my love to the four walls of my room. Because I learned my love isn't safe outside of it.

That's the difference between the way my thirteen year old self loved things and the way I love them now. The volume.

[zukosdualdao]

something else (only mildly related yet very interconnected in my head to my most recent post about fandom and canonicity) interesting and, for me, relieving, is how your relationship with fandom can change over time. because, while i never would have called myself an anti (and never would have and never did harass anyone over it, to be clear, that’s always been the line-in-the-sand ,“why do people care that much?” breaking point for me), i certainly did used to subscribe to the idea that there were Bad Ships that people were Problematic (TM) for enjoying. as i said, i never harassed anyone, but i certainly nodded along (and probably reblogged some pretty self-righteous posts) to a lot of moral purity in shipping and fandom talking points. (i was, by the way, a total hypocrite, as people are wont to be. i was nodding along because i wanted to have friends in fandom and was incredibly susceptible to that kind of peer pressure at the time (which i think a lot of people are, and is normal, to a degree—it’s what happens when you’re very involved in fandom in high school of all times), but i also read and then felt guilty about reading a lot of the ‘problematic’ things i was publicly against LMAO. in my head, it was fine to privately enjoy those things, but you shouldn’t go around PROMOTING it, nevermind that people had to write those stories for me to read them in the first place. the cognitive dissonance was very real.)

anyway! needless to say, i think, based on the contents of my blog, my position on *gestures vaguely* all that has changed a lot. ironically enough, there was probably a time a few years ago where i was going “sure, makes sense” (in my own head—i was not involved enough in the atla fandom or surrounding discourse to be vocal about it) when people derided zutara as a problematic ship, and i obviously don’t feel that way anymore. interesting, too, is that i don’t… really feel like there was a specific moment or, like, a flip switched and suddenly i was on ‘the other side’ or anything lol. i just feel like i grew up and realized that the kind of nuance and compassion i have always advocated for irl is just as applicable in online fandom spaces, and that there is no inherent moral value to shipping or not shipping something, or liking or not liking a character. once i realized that, i think fandom honestly got a lot more fun for me, because what i was describing before? not fun. deeply stressful. made me feel guilty for liking things, and it was my own fault! that’s not what fandom should be about.

[tired-smartass]

Okay but where is all my wierd shadowhunter stuff?? Hmmmm?

I don't want these basic ass magic cops that just have runes.

Gimme like flashing eyes

Too much static around them

They run a little too hot

Weirdly inhumanly perfect features that run in the family

An affinity to music and dance

Maybe sunlight doesn't bother them nearly enough

Maybe they see in the dark a little too well

Maybe they are a little too in sync sometimes

Maybe they are too close to being perfect soldiers

Give me Angelic shadowhunters

[i-have-not-slept]

Animalec Fest

September 23: Lost

@animalecfest

This chapter is the first of a three-part series covering the prompts Lost, Sacrifice and Mating. These chapters were inspired by the twelfth-century Breton poem "Bisclavaret" by Marie de France, also known as "the Lay of The Were-Wolf". You can read a translation of the original story here:

🐺⚔️👑🐺⚔️👑🐺⚔️👑🐺⚔️👑🐺⚔️👑🐺⚔️👑

It was a clear, crisp autumn morning on the day that Magnus rode out from his castle, the air cool on his face. Avorig, the land of his kingdom, was beautiful to him at any time, but particularly so at this time of year, with the leaves just turning golden on the trees and the first hint of winter cold in the air. He drew rein as he came to the top of a hill and smiled as he saw his destination spread before him. Tan Koad Castle, one of the ancestral seats of the Avorig barons, and home to one of Magnus’s very favourite people. 

He rode down the valley slopes to the castle, his horse’s hooves clattering on the cobblestone as he rode through the gates. There was already someone waiting for him in the castle courtyard, and Magnus smiled softly as he recognised the tall figure.

Alec came up to him, holding the horse’s reins so Magnus could dismount. “Welcome, my lord. We didn’t expect you for another hour at least.” 

“I have a fast horse.” Magnus said. “And I brought no entourage, as you can see.” He waved his hand towards the empty gate of the castle. 

A slight frown touched Alec’s face. “My lord, you shouldn’t be travelling alone.”

“I’m not alone now, am I?” Magnus murmured. “I’m with you.” He let his hand brush Alec’s arm lightly, and the knight looked away quickly, signalling for a stablehand to take Magnus’s horse. 

As Alec opened the door of the castle, Magnus put his head on one side, considering him. Alexander Lightwood, baron of the Tan Koad region since his father had died five years before. One of Magnus’s most loyal knights, who had guarded this harsh border country so well that Magnus had never heard a single complaint from any of Alec’s people. A man who seemed to have everything, at least on the surface. 

And yet, he had secrets. There was something Alec was hiding, something Magnus couldn’t guess at. There was the way Alec looked at Magnus, of course. He’d known that for years, had spent many sleepless nights lying awake consumed by the thought of Alec’s eyes, his lips, his hands. He’d seen Alec’s blushes, his gazes that lingered on Magnus a second too long before pulling away. All this Magnus knew.

But there was something else as well, an even larger secret Alec was hiding. Magnus sensed it instinctively. He didn’t know what it was, but he had never pushed Alec to reveal all the sides of himself that he kept hidden. 

“I would like to ride with you, Alexander, once my horse is rested.” Magnus said. “Somewhere private, where we can discuss affairs. Of the barony, that is.” 

Alec stiffened slightly, his back straightening. “Of course. Affairs of the barony.” There was the faintest flush in his cheeks, which Magnus ignored. “If you’ll give me a minute to change into my riding clothes?”

May I watch? Magnus wanted to say, but stopped himself just in time. He merely nodded, and Alec backed away, then turned quickly and headed up one of the winding stone staircases into the tower. 

Magnus gave a little sigh and sat down on one of the plush couches that stood in the entrance room. A moment later, there was a noise of footsteps behind him and he turned to see Alec’s sister, Lady Isabelle and someone else that Magnus was very fond of. 

“My lord.” Isabelle said, raising her eyebrows. She didn’t seem at all surprised to find the king waiting in her castle. She dropped a perfunctory curtsey— Isabelle had never shown much respect for royalty, which Magnus secretly admired her for— and sat down opposite him, smoothing out the skirt of her red velvet gown.

“It’s a pleasure to have you, as always.” She raised her eyebrows knowingly at him. “I do hope my brother isn’t boring you too much.”

Magnus leaned back, smiling at her. “Not to worry, my lady. I’ve never found Alexander boring.” 

Isabelle smiled in return. She stood and crossed over to the far wall, where there were a number of wine kegs stacked up for the winter. She poured them both a drink and returned to the couches, handing Magnus one of the goblets. He took an appreciative sip of the wine, feeling the warmth spread through his chest and looked back at Isabelle. She was resting her chin on her hand, gazing at him thoughtfully.

“You should visit more often, my lord.” she said, although Magnus already visited Tan Koad more frequently than any of the kingdom’s other baronies. “It breaks the monotony. And Alec’s always so happy to see you.”

“Really?” Magnus said, with exaggerated surprise. “I had the impression that Alexander couldn’t wait for me to leave.”

Isabelle laughed, then became more serious. “Really, Magnus. It’s good for him, getting to see you. It’s just about the one happiness he ever gets.”

Magnus opened his mouth to say something else, but at that moment Alec came into the entrance hall, dressed in his riding gear. His eyes swept over Magnus and Isabelle. Magnus wondered if he’d heard anything of their conversation. He didn’t think so, but he couldn’t be sure. 

“Alas, my lady, I must take your leave.” Magnus said, with a dramatic bow. Isabelle smiled and swept past him with a wink. “Have fun, my lord.”

The forest was golden and red, leaves clustering around them like a bright tapestry, shot through with dark tree trunks. Magnus rode close to Alec, their knees nearly touching on the narrow forest trail. Alec was telling Magnus everything that had happened since his last visit— a couple of border raids, a storm that destroyed three fields— but Magnus wasn’t really listening. He was distracted by the low soothing hum of Alec’s voice, how the moisture-laden air made the hair at the back of his neck curl damply. He kept thinking about what Isabelle had said

Alec seemed to realise he wasn’t listening and tailed off mid-sentence. “Is everything alright, your majesty?”

“How’s your wife?” Magnus asked abruptly. 

Alec flinched, very slightly. “She’s fine.”

“It must be hard for her,” Magnus said conversationally, “when meeting with the king takes up so much of her husband’s time.” 

He didn’t know why he goaded Alec like this, except maybe he preferred seeing Alec angry rather than miserable. If he was angry at Magnus, at least Magnus knew he felt something towards him, rather than just apathy.

Alec’s hands tightened briefly on the reins, but his face remained blank. “Lydia and I both know our duty to the kingdom. If the king needs to speak to me, I am there.”

Ah, yes. Baroness Lydia Lightwood, formerly Branwell. For a long time, Magnus had wanted to hate her, but found that he couldn’t. She was gracious, clever and politically capable, and it wasn’t her fault she happened to be married to the man Magnus adored. For years he’d watched them dance around each other, caught in the awkwardness of a political marriage that they were desperately trying to make work, despite being completely unsuited as a couple. 

He remembered their wedding, not long before Alec’s parents died. Magnus himself, as the King, had been the one to perform the ceremony. He hadn’t known Alec well at the time, and had wondered why the young man looked so pale and agitated at the altar. Then, as he had got to know Alec better, and seen the way his eyes lingered on Magnus, he’d begun to suspect why. But by then it had been too late to do anything about it. 

Magnus wondered, sometimes, if he’d been cursed at birth, doomed to live a life of luxury as the King, with everything he could want except the one person he wanted more than anything.

“I recently increased the garrison patrols on the kingdom’s borders.” Alec was saying, and Magnus realised he’d been letting his mind wander. 

“Is that right?” he replied. “How far are we from the border now?” 

“About an hour’s ride.” Alec said. He seemed more relaxed now that the conversation had shifted back to matters of military strategy.

“So we’re unlikely to see anyone where we are now.” Magnus said. “After all, this is a very remote part of the kingdom, isn’t it? How far away is the nearest settlement from here?”

“At least a mile.” Alec replied. He was staring pointedly at the path in front of them, not meeting Magnus’s eyes.

“So we’re completely alone.” Magnus said. He nudged his horse a fraction closer, so his knee just brushed Alec’s. Alec stiffened very slightly but kept his eyes straight ahead. “If you say so, my lord.” he replied noncommittally.

Magnus waited, hoping, but there was no other response from Alec. Disappointed, he allowed his shoulders to slump slightly.

“Is there anything else you wished to discuss, my lord?” Alec asked. 

Magnus stared out at the expanse of the forest, full of whispering leaves and softly moving shadows. “Do you love me, Alexander?”

He thought he heard a sound like a pained gasp, like Alec had been struck, but when Magnus swung back to look at him he was perfectly composed, except for the faintest flush along his cheekbones. “Of course I love you.” Alec said evenly. “You are my king. I swore an oath to serve you and protect you, and lay down my life for you if necessary. I love you as all your knights love you, no less and— and no more.” He swallowed thickly, his eyes still fixed on the trees around them.

“Is that true, my Alexander?” Magnus asked, his voice low and seeking.

Alec’s eyes darted to him for just a fraction of a second, the blush in his cheeks deepening. Then his gaze dropped and he seemed to withdraw in on himself like a crab drawing into its shell. “Yes, my lord.” he said, in a very tight, controlled voice. 

Magnus looked away. For a long time, there was silence, broken only by the soft thudding of their horses’ hooves and the jangling of the bits. There was a deep ache in Magnus’s chest, like the pain of a wound, or the pain of something missing from him.

“Is there anything else, my lord?” Alec asked finally.

Magnus’s voice was heavy as he replied. “No, Alexander.” He turned his horse back towards the castle and Alec followed him a second later. They rode the rest of the way in silence, Magnus staring fixedly at the woods around them, but never at Alec’s face. The ache in his chest grew worse with every beat of his heart, weighing on him like a stone.

Back at the castle, Alec swung down from his horse, but Magnus stayed in the saddle. Alec looked up at him in surprise. “Your majesty, aren’t you— aren’t you going to stay longer?”

“No.” Magnus said quietly, staring out at the forest. “No, I don’t have anything more to discuss with you at present. I’ll be back before too long, Alexander. Look after my people for me.”

Alec exhaled raggedly. “My lord—” 

“I would much prefer,” Magnus said softly, “if you just called me Magnus.”

Alec’s eyes darted around, the colour coming back into his cheeks. “No.” he said thickly. “No, you’re the king. That wouldn’t be— right.”

Magnus looked down at him. “Why are you trying to tell me what’s right, Alexander?” he asked gently.

Alec’s flush deepened and his eyes dropped. His mouth opened, then closed again abruptly.

“Look after yourself, Alec.” Magnus murmured. He wheeled his horse around, galloping away from the castle. He didn’t look back at Alec, standing alone under the dark battlements.

Later, he would wish he had.  

_______________________________________________

It was more than two weeks before Magnus got another chance to ride to Tan Koad and see Alec. This time, as he rode into the courtyard, he could see instantly that something was wrong. There was none of the cheerful busyness that was usually found in a castle. Guards and servants were hurrying around in every direction, talking together in little huddles or doing their usual tasks with an air of barely controlled panic. The whole scene was one of fearful agitation. Such was the chaos that it was nearly a full minute before anyone noticed that the King was in their midst.

Isabelle came hurrying out of the central tower and ran to Magnus. There was none of the casual, cheerful attitude she’d had the last time Magnus was here. She looked like she was fighting back tears. 

“What is it?” Magnus asked in alarm, though a suspicion was already creeping at the back of his mind.

“It’s Alec.” Isabelle whispered. She gulped back tears, wiping her face hurriedly. “He’s vanished, Magnus. Last night, when everyone was asleep. We can’t find him anywhere. He’s gone.”

[backpackingspace]

I have many feelings about the shadowhunter children and immortal downworlder dynamic. Like you have these ancient people "cornered" by these 14 year olds. They are demanding you're help. They are the children of your enemies and you know they have been trained to kill from birth trained to hate you from birth the 14 year olds think they are adults they way all young ones do but be shadowhunter standards they probably are, blooded in battle and all that. You've been silent for too long and the shadowhunters are getting ansy and you know they'll reach for a sword next. They're rude demanding the children of your enemies dangerous in their own right. And they're asking for your help and you are painfully aware that they are 14 years old.

[helpimstuckinafandom]

Mentally still in 2016 watching Shadowhunters s1 ep12 seeing my first lgbt on-screen kiss

[autisticcharacterslist]

Tiberius "Ty" Blackthorn from The Shadowhunter Chronicles. Quiet, shy, studious, inventive, loves animals. Struggles to understand sarcasm. Relates to Sherlock Holmes. Carries headphones & stim toys. Clenches his fists & repeats his favorite words to himself as a form of stimming. Tends to ignore & accidentally alienate his loved ones. A very sweet boy who must be protected at all costs 💝

[fandomshatepeopleofcolor]

hey i just read the cassandra clare masterpost and i'm just gonna add here.

the shadowhunter religion, as a whole is purely based on christian & jewish religion/mythology with cc saying that muslim or hindu or any other religious shadowhunters can't exist. yet she takes up various mythological beings from these myths (especially hinduism) like the naga demons, the asuras etc. and wrongly depicts them as 'evil' when in real hindu mythology it is so much more complex than that.

there is the existence of institutes in various parts of the world like mumbai which begs the question how were those institutes established? and whether the shadowhunters of those places came to be because of colonisation & were forced to convert to the shadowhunter religion. how they have to remove themselves from their own culture which is exactly what happened under the 200 years of british rule in india.

i'm sure other people of colour will have this problem too with their own religions & ethnicities but i can only speak of india as i'm only knowledgeable of my own heritage & cultures. but it irks me so much.

Hey thanks for dropping by! I really appreciate your viewpoint. If you don't mind can you maybe link me to the masterpost? was it ours? I'm sorry the search function is a mess. In general I kinda get depressed by how thoroughly christianity has become the global religion. Like saying the shadowhunter religion is based on christianity and Judaism is kinda wrong because even though much of christiandom pays lip service to the torah sometimes christiandom is very antisemitic.

but yeah of course CClare is culturally appropriating from hinduism and other religions. its frustrating because so many people continue to read her books and giving her money. at the very least her show is off the air.

mod ali