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takaraphoenix · 4 years

Note

This may or may not be a touchy question (I guess it depends?), but how do you deal with hate with people who don't particularly like your work or the pairings you like? Because I've seen a fair amount of people stop creating content they want to make because of the backlash or hate they get simply for shipping something, so I do wonder... How do you do it? After all these years, how are you still standing, head held up high? – Much love! <3

I suppose a huge part in that is... personality? I mean, what type of person one is. Some people are very sensitive and negativity gets to them heavily.

Which, is ironic, because I am normally that type of person. I always overthink what other people may think of me and in real life I am easily deterred.

But something about the internet changes the dynamic for me.

If it’s in person? If someone looks me in the eye and criticizes the things I like? That has me fuming. But ain’t nothing more unpersonal than getting an anon and having this round fella with the sunglasses stare at you, or having a “guest” on AO3 comment something nasty.

Because they’re cowards. And the cowardice of the other party tells me that, so a certain degree, they themselves know they’re full of shit. Because if they were confident in what they’re saying, if they knew they were right with whatever they’re claiming, there’s no need to go anon. They could tell me “to my face” - as much as the internet allows that; by being logged in and starting a dialogue.

But someone who hides behind the grey round fella with the sunglasses to tell me I’m morally wrong? Makes me genuinely laugh. Because if I were, you had no reason to hide.

(At this point, I’d like to add, since you’re on anon too, that there’s different reasons for going on anon. Sometimes, it’s shyness. But if you think yourself morally superior to someone and want to ring the bell of shame behind them, you can’t hide behind anonymity. That’s different.)

I just really can’t take people seriously who hide in the shadows of anonymity to scream at me about how wrong I am. You’d do that with confidence if you knew you were right. But they’re wrong and full of shit. Because they are.

There is no “right” or “wrong” about taste. A ship ain’t only valid for being morally upstanding, pure, canon, whatever. And a person ain’t inherently vile for shipping something that’s unleathy, or toxic, or whatever buzzword they throw around.

Which is another part. I just... absolutely can not take anyone seriously who throws buzzwords around wildly and with no foundation, because they lack any common sense.

Yeah, they’re brothers and it’s incest, what do I care, they’re also fictional characters, I ain’t telling two real life brothers to bang and get married, what’s wrong with the people who can’t tell fiction apart from reality. That’s just pitiful.

I’ve also seen the other side of that. I’ve seen antis ship the exact thing that they’re judging, insulting and harrassing other shippers for. From incest to abuse apologism to just plain toxic canon dynamics. All the things they find a justification to harrass others about, but they ship things of that kind themselves. But their ships are ““different”“ from the ones they hate.

It all boils down to taste and it boils down to a bunch of morons who can’t grasp the concept of “taste” and the fact that... you can like something without it being pure and you can dislike something without it being every shade of morally corrupt.

They bend over backward to find justifications for why the ships they dislike are inherently bad, while they also bend over backward to justify why the exact same things they judge other ships for are actually wholesome and pure in the ships they like.

And at that point, I just genuinely feel bad for those people and am terrified for them. Because I am fully aware of what I ship. I know every deprived nook and cranny of my ships. I know the exact level of toxicity of the canon dynamics. I’m just also aware that they’re fictional characters. But the moment you start reaching to justify why abuse isn’t technically abuse, that’s when it becomes worrisome. And that’s what they do, to justify their own ships.

Now, I’m not gonna lie, this isn’t an attitude I always had and it’s not something I just woke up with one day.

I’ve been in fandom for 15 years now. I’ve seen a lot and I’ve dealt with a lot. I’ve seen when shipwars were primarily reserved to the canon straight love triangles. I’ve seen it devolve into “your ship isn’t valid the gays are getting in the way of the CANON STRAIGHTS”. I’ve seen the number of canon gays grow in media and how it affected these ship wars, invalidating ships where a canon gay ship was split up. And now this shit-show of antis.

My attitude grew out of seeing and experiencing a lot. I was lucky to be “raised” in a safe fandom environment, where the fandom olds took us youngsters under their wings and guided us, taught us how to improve our writing, helped us establish connections in a community.

And that last part, that’s important. Important in dealing with hate. Maybe the most important part, really. You have to find your community. Don’t let yourself be sucked into a circle of hate. Find the people who love the same things as you - the same show, the same characters, the same ships. Form friendships, find that community of positivity.

Fandom is what you make it. Even when other people try to make it something else, try to turn it into a hateful, gross place filled with harrassment and fear and moral policing. Regardless of how hard they try; your fandom is up to you.

Find the people who bring the positivity, who will come into your fics and leave reviews of love and positivity. And weed out the bad. Block them. Block the antis in your fandom, avoid them. Sometimes, preemtively going into an anti tag and just going on a block-spree can be really helpful already. You can block anons on tumblr too! Granted, only their ID, but at one point they’re gonna run out of devices to post anon hate from.

That much to my personal attitude toward it. Now to the act of actually dealing with it.

Many adivse, rightfully so, to ignore it. AO3 allows you to delete comments. On tumlr, you can just delete an anon and not answer it. Especially when you’re the type who is affected by it, not engaging is the best solution.

Personally, I like arguing with people. Everyone who ever talked to me might have noticed that. I live for a good argument. And I’m really bad at letting something just stand. So I usually argue back. I do that, because I am very bad at keeping my mouth shut, but also because it brings me a certain amount of glee to mock their nonsense.

I do it here. I have my “Dear Anonymous Shithead” tag where I address anon bullshit and anon hate from FFNet and AO3 - because FFNet doesn’t let you answer to anons. And then I delete the original comments on my fics, because I don’t like shitstains on my fics.

I call that approach meeting them on your own terms. Because they think they are doing something grand somehow by publicly leaving their vile comments on your fics. Delete them, take their voice away. Put it somewhere else to argue their nonsense on your own terms, mock them if you want, it’s fun. Fight your battle, the way you want to fight it - and that does include just deleting them and not engaging at all; that’s not running away, that’s self-care.

Like I said, my attitude’s not always been like that. It got me before too. Way, way back - and I really do mean way back, it’s been surely over five years ago - there was a tumblr account on here that spent an unreasonable amount of time openly hating on me. It’s the reason I avoided getting a tumblr, because back then I was not in a mental state to openly engage with such a hateful place.

And it’s still a hateful place; all those anti communities here. People proudly proclaiming they’re antis in their biography. People taking screenshots of other tumblrs or artists to mock them and make fun of them. The thing that changed isn’t tumblr, it’s me. I waited to engage with this place until I was ready to engage with it. I got my tumblr account when I already had the attitude of scoffing at anon hate.

I do think that only getting actively involved in a website when you are ready for it is another important part. The thing you mention in your ask, the people who stopped creating because of anon hate. It breaks my heart, it absolutely does, and I hate losing creators to it, but I do think that if those creators made that judgment call for themselves and their own mental health because they knew they couldn’t handle the harrassment, then they did the right thing. Even if they themselves may hate it, because they want to create. But sometimes, taking a step back is the right thing to do. I do hope that they will find it in themselves to overcome this and come back stronger, but constant harrassment and bullying can have severe consequences on a person and removing yourself from that kind of environment can sometimes be a last resort that needs to be taken.

I’ll also admit that I’ve been calculating what fandom to interact with to what degree ever since I got a tumblr account and started to see just how deep the hatred goes. Some things I might have created for, but I saw just how nasty the antis in the fandom were and... it wasn’t worth the fight for me.

Percy Jackson and Shadowhunters are my loves. My ride-or-die fandoms. I can, and will, fight for them. No one will chase me out of these fandoms, regardless of what kinds of insults and bullshit they throw at me. I’ve been here years longer than most of these newbie antis and I will be here long after they moved on to other things.

New things that I don’t have attachment to, I will weight if my level of interest in the thing will be worth engaging with the fandom nonsense with. Sometimes, it’s not, sometimes I make the judgment call for myself to step a way from a thing.

I admit, that happend with Teen Wolf too. Back when I did my last rewatch and enthusiastically engaged with it on here on tumblr, live posting about my rewatch and it... showed me startling, ugly sides of this fandom that I hadn’t known before, back when all my engagement had been to read fics and to write that one fic I had. That rewatch could have dragged me back into the deep end - but the brand of hate I encountered here... genuinely got to me. It really messed with my head, a lot, I’ve never been threatened before, I’ve never been insulted and constantly harrassed to such a degree. It was the first time I ever turned off anon on here, it put me into a sense of dread for just coming online for a while. I didn’t expect that, neither that it’d happen nor the extend of it or that it’d get to me like this. I still love Sterek to bits and pieces, it’ll be one of those ships I will always be attached to, but that experience with the bad side of the fandom made me recoil from getting involved with Teen Wolf again.

But in the Percy Jackson fandom? I’ve stood here for ten years now. I’ve gotten shit thrown at me about pretty much anything. I’ve also created over five hundred works for this fandom. I have received love and excitement in comments. I have received fanarts. I have received fanfiction to my fics. I’ve gotten fics dedicated to me by people who liked my work and wanted to write something nice for me. I’ve met one of my best friends and I’ve met my girlfriend in this fandom. Sure, I’ve been called names and been mocked, but I also know what I have.

I know I’m a damn good writer. I may not have much self-esteem, but what little self-esteem I have is located here, in the very thing they think they can attack. The thing is, I have no insecurities in this. This is the one area where you can’t attack me. And on top of that, I have that community of amazing people who love the same things as I do. I have the support, the friends, the shared hype. What do I care about some pitiful little fool hiding behind anonymity to whine about how wrong and gross I am? Their opinion weights nothing compared to that of the people who leave me anon love, who leave me squealy and excited comments.

To sum it all up:

Someone who has to hide behind anonymity is aware they don’t have the moral high ground.

Their definition of the “moral high ground” is so pitiful that it makes me feel bad for them.

I know the difference between fiction and reality and I pity the fools who don’t.

Find a positive fandom space for yourself and claim it.

Either delete anon hate, or meet it on your own terms.

Sometimes, I don’t. Sometimes, I lose and the hate does get to me.

You need to make the judgment call for yourself, if you can mentally handle a situation or not, and do what is best for you.

#About Me #Fandom Life #How To Handle Antis #Fandom Discourse #and how to handle that #Phoe Giving Advise #Anonymous

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thomaslightwoodenthusiast · 4 years

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hey guys! i finally had the time to get this started. here was the first request:

an alice in wonderland au - malec edition

i tried my best, i was kinda young when i read the book so i don’t remember exactly what it was like but this is my attempt !!

requested by @tobeornottobetequila !

➰➰➰➰➰

Alec woke up feeling a little dazed, and with an absolutely thudding headache. He stretched his arm out with his eyes still shut, and accidentally slapped Magnus awake.

“What was that for??”

“Sorry. Stretching.”

Now, Alec usually had great vision. It was part and parcel of being a shadowhunter. But even after he rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times, it was clear that he was not in Magnus’s apartment. Or in the Institute. Or anywhere he recognised, for that matter. He shook Magnus -who had went back to sleep- to get his attention.

“Alright, stop messing. Where are we?”

“Huh? We’re in my apartment- oh.”

“You see it too?”

They shared a glance and looked around themselves. It was Magnus’s bed, sure, but it was in the middle of nowhere. There was insanely green grass, and the trees- such an odd shape. Alec could even make out a castle in the distance. “So it’s not my headache. Whatever the hell this is is real.”

The place looked like Faerie, but more in a Fairytale fantasy way- like the pair had been sent into a book.

“You know, this place gives me insane Alice in Wonderland vibes. I’m half expecting the Cheshire Cat to pop out of that tree.”

Alec looked extremely terrified. “Is that another of your cats?” he inquired.

Magnus half-laughed, half-sighed. “Remind me to never make a reference towards anything at all with you. Alice in Wonderland is a famous book, my love,” he said, kissing the top of his boyfriend’s head. Things were going great right now- Alec had finally accepted himself and came out, and whilst the reaction wasn’t the best from everyone, he seemed happier. More free. More willing to love Magnus. Despite being in a completely foreign place with no idea how to leave, he didn’t quite want to. It was peaceful here.

“Do you think you can portal out?”

Magnus shrugged and waved his hands- with no avail. Not even any blue sparks came out of his hands.

“I’m afraid, only magic from this dimension works here.”

“This dimension.” Magnus repeated. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Why not?” The voice gained a face, to which Magnus’s eyes widened. “Holy fu-“

“Language!” Alec exclaimed, mock offended.

“Sorry darling. But I need to use it right now. WHY THE HELL IS THE GODDAMN FUCKING MAD HATTER STANDING IN FRONT OF US?”

“I DON’T KNOW WHO THE GODDAMN FUCKING MAD HATTER IS!”

“Boys, boys. Calm it down. I’m simply here to tell you that you need to leave as soon as possible. People don’t like your kind here, and I can-“

Suddenly, Alec was angry. “Your kind?! Your kind as in ‘gays’? Well you listen to me, dude. We have every right to exist just like you straight people. There is nothing wrong with me not with my boyfriend and I love him so goddamn much that I’m ready to punch the absolute SHIT out of you if you say that-“

“As I was saying, your kind refers to the fact that you’re from another dimension. I was offering to help you both leave, before the Queen finds out you’re here. Also, where the hell did you get the assumption that I’m straight from? I mean, look at me.” The man gestured at himself, and Alec noticed that he shared a very similar taste in style with Magnus. Now he knew what Simon meant when he greeted Magnus as ‘the Mad Hatter’ all the time. He was still to figure out why Magnus called him ‘Edward’ though.

“Well, I’m sorry. Quite new to being out and happy, so I get defensive.”

“That’s totally understandable! Now, I suggest you two get ready and follow me,” the Mad Hatter said, ducking out of sight. This whole experience was so bizarre.

“That rant was really sexy, by the way.”

Alec flushed. “Shut up.”

“You make gay rights sound even sexier.”

“Why are rights sexy in the first place?”

Magnus rolled his eyes and got out of the bed. “You’re such a buzzkill,” he said, pouting.

➰➰➰➰➰

Alec’s mind wandered yet again to how odd everything was. Where was this place? What was it? Why was there an insane man leading them about?

“Alrighty boys! We’re here!” The ‘Mad Hatter’ gestured toward a portal- guess some things didn’t change. “One thing before you go. You have to take these,” he said, handing Alec a small cake-like item with an ‘eat me’ tag on it, and Magnus a small vial with ‘drink me’ inscribed on the lid. “We give them to everyone who unexpectedly turns up here before they return home.”

Magnus stares at his vial in wonder. “We really are living a fairytale right now,” he muttered, downing the stuff. Alec watched him nervously, swallowing the cake bite whole before he had a chance to taste it.

And of course he started choking.

Magnus slammed his back several times as his skin became increasingly more red from embarrassment. He then stopped, and they brushed themselves off. Magnus of course giggling silently to himself.

“I didn’t quite expect you two to be so desperate to take them- are you in such a rush to go home?” the strange man said, looking sad.

“Well, yes. Plus you did say that-“

“That the Queen would be angry if people not belonging to this dimension were here?” echoed a new voice. A female one.

Magnus spun around. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Not you?!”

The Queen of Hearts raised an eyebrow. “Am I truly that bad?”

“You behead people.”

“She beheads people?!”

“Yes, Alec. It’s the- you know what, forget it. We’re in a fairytale, the book I said about. I don’t know what the hell happened or how drunk I got to be able to conjure this shit up. But what I do know is that this is the part where he,” Magnus said, gesturing at the Mad Hatter, “gets arrested, and so do we, and our heads get chopped off.”

Alec did not quite like the sound of that. As Magnus said, sure enough the Queen of Hearts ordered her guards to arrest the other man and take them as well for immediate beheading. “What did we do?” he asked in a small and vulnerable, panicked voice. Magnus’s heart broke that second; he sounded so scared. His Alec, his brave archer boy, made so small. All he wanted to do was hold him and tell him that it would be okay, but all he was capable of doing was brushing his hand against his.

“You trespassed. And this mad man here was helping you leave. He does this all the time- and gets away with it. Well not anymore, I say! Off with all your heads!”

Alec looked as if he was about to pass out.

➰➰➰➰➰

It took surprisingly less time to get to the castle than they thought it would. As soon as they’d arrived, all three had been sent to the dungeon quarters to prepare for execution, each in three separate cells as extra added torture for Magnus and Alec. They were also brought out with hoods over their heads, meaning they couldn’t even see each other.

“Down!” The Queen barked.

The executioners shoved the three down on their knees.

“Prepare!”

Their heads were pressed against the blocks.

“Anyone have any last words?”

“Damn. You know, I really thought they’d be using the guillotine by now. It would’ve been cooler. Imagine dying, going to hell because let’s face it heaven is definitely not for me, and the other ghosts being like ‘How did you die?’ And then you get to go ‘Guillotine’-“

“Shut up, please,” The Queen yelled. Alec laughed to himself; Magnus was never short of something quick witted to say.

“Ready?”

They were hushed, the axes lined up on their necks.

“Aim...”

They were lifted off. The pressure being removed felt odd. Then Alec began to feel sick again. Like he was going to collapse.

Magnus felt so too. Even though they couldn’t communicate properly he could almost feel it in his veins. For a moment, he thought they were both going to die, and silently hoped that they would before the axes met their necks again. It would be less painful that way.

The whoosh of air they felt against themselves as the axes were brought down with force was oddly calming. Even though they were one second away from-

➰➰➰➰➰

Magnus sat up, first of all aware that he couldn’t breathe. He choked on water, coughing endless streams of it up. Once he’d calmed down, he noticed that he was soaking. His hair was dripping in his face.

“Magnus! You’re okay, thank god-“

“Guys Alec isn’t moving-“

“What?” said Magnus. There were too many voices surrounding him. He looked up and was glad to see that the soft voice that first spoke to him was his little biscuit, Clary. He was on the ground in the middle of Central Park with a few other shadowhunters- Jace, Isabelle, and Simon too- and Alec was lying limp beside him. He was extremely pale, deathly so, and he could barely breathe. His chest rattled with each one he took.

“Magnus, what happened? How did you guys fall in there?” Clary asked, concerned.

“Clary, sweetheart, I appreciate your concern but one; I have no idea what just happened and two; Alec?”

He shifted himself over- he could barely move- and tried his magic. He ordered Jace and Isabelle back. The magic shocked Alec awake, but he was too weak to cough the water out himself. The next few seconds were terrifying- Alec spasming and freaking out, Isabelle loudly sobbing in fear, Clary getting worried, and Jace. Jace was silent, expressionless. He couldn’t quite believe it- in fact- he refused to. Alec couldn’t die. Not before him.

As if knowing what he was thinking, Magnus looked at Jace with a kind smile. “No one’s dying tonight. He’s going to be fine- I can remove the water. But he definitely needs to go to the Institute infirmary. And he needs strict bed rest.”

Seeing as he was unable to make a portal because of his weakened strength, he called Catarina to pick them up and take them to the Institute. On the ride there, he was able to talk to Clary.

“So what did actually happen?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “You guys must’ve went for a walk and fallen into the river. We got a fire message from a shadowhunter on patrol of the area saying they saw you drowning- he helped you both to stay afloat whilst help came. Then we arrived.”

Magnus considered asking if she knew how the hell they had even fallen in in the first place, but didn’t. He had too little energy. So was the whole Alice in Wonderland thing fake?

Later in the afternoon, Alec had been taken to the Institute to recover and get cleaned up. Magnus went back home, so that he could clean up too. The whole thing was mad. As he took off his coat, he felt something in his pocket.

A little vial.

The exact one that was in that ‘dream’.

He decided to keep it to show Alec and made his way to the Institute. Isabelle opened the door.

“Magnus! Hey! Alec is a lot better. He kept asking for you. He wants to show you something I think.”

Magnus held the conversation with his boyfriend’s little sister for a few moments before making his way to his room.

“Magnus?”

“I’m here.”

Alec was curled up in his bed. He looked exhausted and freezing. “I feel so cold. I had a hot shower to help but it hasn’t really.”

“It’s okay. Just let me hold you. Your sister said you wanted to show me something?”

Alec shuffled up so that he was sitting against the headboard. Magnus slid on beside him, putting an arm around him and letting his head fall on his shoulder. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through Alec’s soft, dark hair. There had been a Herondale once, one that on first sight Magnus thought Alec resembled almost perfectly. The dark hair, stark against pale skin. The deep blue eyes, which held oceans of emotion behind them. And to be fair, Alec was a descendant of him. But after getting to know him, Magnus realised that Alec was not as like Will Herondale as he thought.

“This,” said Alec, snapping Magnus out of his daydream. It was a tag.

A tag that said ‘Eat Me’ on it.

Magnus wordlessly scrambled for his pocket and produced the vial.

“By the Angel. What does this mean? Where were we? What even happened? Were we actually almost killed? What about that other guy-“

“Alec, don’t worry yourself. Everything’s fine. I don’t know either. I don’t even know if we just hardcore dreamt that or if it actually happened. I mean, it’s not every day you just casually fall into a river. And you of all people- a shadowhunter nonetheless- shouldn’t be just falling in.”

Alec sighed. He shuffled back down on the bed and gave Magnus a look that meant he expected him to do so too. So he did. They still held each other tight. Alec took Magnus’s face gently in his hands, like he was precious porcelain. He kissed him, almost relieved that he could. The dream had been so real. His soft skin felt warm on his hands.

“Magnus?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I’m glad you didn’t get your head cut off.”

The two burst into fits of laughter. This was definitely going to be an inside joke now.

Then someone appeared in the doorway. It was Simon.

“Isabelle sent me here to make sure you guys were okay.”

“Oh, we’re fine. Thank you Edward.”

Simon winked- well, tried to- and left.

Alec turned back to Magnus.

“Where the hell do you get Edward from?!”

(here’s the first of the requests! number two is currently in the making and will be done soon)

#shadowhunters #lgbtq #the shadowhunter chronicles #queer #the mortal instruments #magnus bane #alec lightwood #the dark artifices #the last hours #chain of gold #malec #magnus lightwood bane #alexander gideon lightwood #alec lightwood bane

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titsthedamnseason · 6 years

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drunk!julian headcanons

youre welcome in advance. warning: this post is tagged but just in case, after qoaad i edited these to account for the ending so major spoilers ahead

**dedicated to @carstairsemma who never let me forget these existed and also @mostawesomepineapple because i still feel bad that i sent her that ask(IM SORRY MISHEL VASFGHA)

where to begin??

okay so julian probably would not like to get drunk a lot because he would not be in control but to say it would never happen is ignorant and simply untrue

the first time it happened was during julian and emma’s travel year when they were out at some club that the paris institute’s hip teens took them to

they both decided to drink a little but julian got drunk fast

i could totally go on about drunk!emma too but she’ll have her time to shine some other time that isn’t now

so anyway julian got really really really quiet and when emma asked what was wrong he gestured for her to come closer, got really close to her face, and whispered, “i think im drunk” and they both just started hysterical laughing

emma asked if he wanted to leave but he said no

dancing ensued and bad singing accompanied it

emma decided not to drink anymore because drunk julian was a new concept to her and she didn’t know how to handle him or what to expect

as it turns out, nothing particularly bad happened

they sat alone on a small couch in the back where it wasn’t as crowded

drunk!julian cannot shut up about how much he loves emma, how pretty she is, how much he loves her, oh wait he already said that

he rambles and rambles and rambles to her about how much he loves her

emma thinks she might be permanently blushing

“emma youre like.....like...like my best friend”

“well yeah i sure hope so”

there is definitely kissing but emma doesnt let it go too far while he’s shitfaced and she isn’t

julian definitely cries multiple times

first because emma is just so beautiful, again because he misses the kids(then again because after he calms down he has the idea to call them which emma is strongly against), again because he accidentally hits into emma’s arm with his hand while he was gesturing while telling her about-well, he cant remember what he was telling her about but it definitely wasnt worth hurting emma over(“im fine, julian”)

once he starts sobering up they decide to make their way back to the institute

after a few times that emma has seen julian drunk she realizes a few things:

julian curses a lot when he’s drunk

he uses gestures and big hand movements a lot and they get more extravagant and ridiculous the more he drinks

he is a very sentimental drunk

his normally very observant and logical self goes out the window

he gets very loud(in uhm quite a few ways)

he’ll be really brash and outgoing but get insecure and quiet at the slightest things

he doesn’t really care about keeping his secrets anymore and will tell everyone about that time him and his girlfriend were giants, the mundanes just think he’s making shit up in his intoxicated state

speaking of which, he loves to tell people that emma is his girlfriend, something he already does sober but it gets a thousand times worse when he’s drunk

julian is ready to fight anyone who has ever crossed him while drunk

if julian is going to get drunk, emma should just prepare to be exposed to the world honestly julian will tell anyone all of their secrets(which luckily are far less important now but STILL)

when julian and emma get drunk together they are either both at a 10 and ready to fight anyone ever or they literally start having sex in public(thule!blackstairs who??)

emma gets more quiet and contemplative when she isnt entirely shitfaced yet so julian will happily listen to her musings about the universe while being the actual human embodiment of the heart eyes emoji

there was that one time julian accidentally wound up drunk on christmas

of course that was the year the la institute was hosting christmas with the ny institute, as well as tessa, jem, kit, and baby jessa in attendance

honestly rip everyone but especially rip emma

after the first time it doesnt happen that often that only one of them will be drunk but when emma is sober while julian is drunk thank the angel

not only does she save christmas but probably all of shadowhunter kind

“im going to fucking go to idris right this fucking ass second and show zara exactly-” “julian, idris is blocked off” “i can fucking find a way in” “no, really, the portals-” “CAN SUCK MY DICK” “julian, no”

he’s also so ready to bring annabel back from the dead just to slap her

though he has to agree with emma that that one probably isnt the best idea

the poor guy who accidentally bumped into emma on the sidewalk did not know what he was starting

that one took a lot of convincing on emma’s part that she was completely fine and not upset about what happened and please dont chase after him i need you to not be in jail right now, julian

julian would be the embodiment of that meme where he asks if emma is single and cries when she says no except he would never not know that the girl was emma and wouldnt even think about asking someone else out so its highkey unrealistic but

its canon that julian and emma like to sing along to the radio and such but drunk!julian? he literally thinks he’s a pop star

when emma is driving drunk!julian home and meet me in the middle comes on? forget it julian is full on marren morris level having a performance in the passenger seat

drunk!julian in general is just a party

but a really unpredictable party

this is what i have for now but i may continue/do drunk!emma or just drunk!blackstairs in the future so lmk about that

also please feel free to send me your personal drunk!julian hcs because i am in love with him

#qoaad spoilers #drunk!julian #im scared please dont yell at me #mine #tda hc #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #blackstairs #tda #my writing #point out typos you cowards #im so not happy w this im sorry i'll write more and make them better

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chocolatecarstairs · 6 years

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qoaad theories

i’ve had these theories for so long but i never got around to sharing them. talk about doing stuff at the last minute! (minor spoilers if you haven’t read the leaked first 3 chapters of queen/tmi spoilers)

also a disclaimer: i know that some people have gotten their copies early and might be able to confirm/deny these rumors, but i am not one of those people. these are all theories i’ve had written down and dated in a notebook for varying amounts of time. if you are one of the people who got their copies early (you lucky, lucky bastards) please, please, please don’t confirm or deny any of these theories or correct them or spoil anything about the book for me and everyone else who is still waiting for their copy. (at the end of this post i’ll explain how i’ll tag spoilers for those of you who wish to not see them to be able to block and avoid)

the parabatai curse has something to do with heavenly fire: basically jules and emma have both described burning sensations and extreme heat so many times in the series. (ex; emma always notes that julians skin feels hot to the touch, in lm the day after emma heals jules from the posion arrow he applies runes to her and she notices that they burn and sting which is the opposite of what is supposed to happen when your parabatai gives you runes) and in the leaked first three chapters after julian and emma almost frick-frack julian rushes off and looks at his parabatai rune in the mirror and its like glowing and has flecks in it? which is exactly how jace’s eye are describe in cohf when he still doesn’t have the heavenly fire under control and he loses control kissing clary in the alley. we’ve actually never really seen what the heavenly fire does longterm. clary traps the heavenly fire in the morgernstern sword just days after jace got it so it could reason that the heavenly fire drives people insane after a while because they’re not equipped to handle something so divine and powerful. it also could do it quicker to people who don’t have extra angel blood. i also think that this could have something to do with the snippet cassie released about emma’s marks (we all assumed it meant her marks disappeared but i have a feeling that’s not the case.). the snippet was entirely out of context and i think cassie posted it that way on purpose. she wanted us to believe that emma’s marks had disappeared but maybe they were actually glowing like julian’s parabatai mark had been (which could be one of the physical changes cassie mentioned.) and this is how the curse and the heavenly fire will take affect.

diego is going to die: i hate to even type this one out bc over the course of the series i’ve actually grown to like diego as a character, but i think he’s going to die in qooad. jaime will (presumably) be living in la for twp as he is an important character in that series, and i don’t think he’d leave the mexico institute if he hadn’t experienced some great tragedy that made it too painful for him to stay. i know that’s a stretch, but it isn’t my only reason for thinking perfect diego is kicking the bucket. he is currently in a marriage contract w zara and i don’t see the dearborns letting him out of it that easily. even if he can’t give them the heirloom i could see zara and horace forcing him to marry into the family as punishment and as security that if the heirloom ever does turn up zara will be able to use it to invade faerie. not to mention, he is harboring kieran at the sholomance which at the very least would be frowned upon by the clave and considered abominable by the cohort, but it also quite probably illegal. with horace as the new inquisitor and the mortal sword out of commision the cohort will probably spin a tale of treason and faerie-sympathizing on the part of diego and his friends that helped him hide away kieran. this will probably make him a target for everyone in the cohort. not to mention i feel like his storyline will wrap up at some point in qoaad and i could even see him dying in some way to save cristina and repay this debt he feels he owes her for breaking her heart (not to mention he is obviously still in love with her.).

we’re not going to see too much of ty actually mourning, but what we do see is gonna be heart-wrenching: we all know ty is going to try to use necromancy to bring livvy back from the dead (which was one of my earlier theories about qooad) and that the only reason ty isn’t a mess over her death is because he thinks she’ll be back with him soon enough. obviously, almost none of us believe this is going to work and we’re fully prepared for livvy to stay dead. i don’t think ty is going to realize that there is no way to bring her back until way later if not the very end of the book and watching him come to that realization is going to be an incredibly emotional experience for not just us as readers, but for kit and dru, and especially for ty himself. livvy and ty had a bond that i think was even closer than the parabatai bond and so watching him go through the stages of grief and finally accept the fact that his twin and partner and best friend (who as it had been mentioned before he has literally never gone without her a day in his life and has never been in a world she wasn’t in) is dead is going to be one of the most tragic losses/parts of not just the dark artifices but the entire shadowhunter chronicles.

zara dies, horace lives: kind of a simple theory but i’m 50/50 about zara making it out of this series alive. i have nothing to base this on but a gut feeling. i just really feel like one of the dearborns is going to die and think it would be a better death if it was zara. it’s kind of dark and twisted but zara dying would be an amazing cosmic punishment for horace. he would be going on in a world where the only person he had in life (it’s been mentioned his wife is dead and so far they haven’t mentioned any other family) is gone.

the cohort isn’t going anywhere just yet: in fact, i think whatever happens in qoaad will just give them more power. livia’s watch will (hopefully) give them a run for their money, but at the end of the day i don’t see them being disbanded or falling apart. cassie has even said that at the end of the book things will be “not great for a lot of people”. i think she meant downworlders and non-racist nephilim. people like alec, jocelyn, and aline (and presumably cristina and diana) who have fallen in love with and been involved in serious relationships with downworlders or part downworlders. people like helen, mark, and kit who have downworlder/faerie blood. and finally for allies to the nephilim like maia, lily, magnus, luke, kieran, gwyn and so on who will likely bear the brunt of whatever the cohort has planned.

ragnor fell is shade: not a very original or well thought out theory. just the only person i can think of that we’ve seen before who is green and could possibly have a relationship with church. (he was very good friends with magnus in basically every series of tsc. church was taken care of by magnus for some time after jem became a silent brother which could explain how he and ragnor would know each other.)

kieran is heading back to faerie: i wanna see the hot faerie threesome last just as much if not more than everyone else out there but i have a feeling it’ll be a one and done type of thing. i see kieran either heading back to the unseelie court as king or a prince (hopefully the unseelie king dies) or being reclaimed into the wild hunt. if adaon takes the kings place i think he would welcome kieran back into the court as a prince and kieran would have some sort of gentry responsibility. if kieran is king then as it's been stated before “a king of faerie can have no human consort.” cassie even replied with that quote to a since-deleted tweet that i believe was about keirark or kieraktina. if kieran isn’t brought back to the unseelie court and the unseelie king dies gwyn will probably take kieran back into the hunt. the only reason kieran isn’t with them right now is bc the unseelie king wants him dead, so it stands to reason that, if the king is dead and the courts don’t claim kieran, gwyn will take him back to the wild hunt.

julian will sever the parabatai bonds (parabatai theory #1): we already know that the parabatai curse will be resolved “one way or the other” and right now the only substantial and viable option we’ve been given (besides jules or emma dying which is a fat NOPE) is the severing of all parabatai bonds using the black volume. it’s been heavily hinted at, if not flat-out stated, that julian is more than willing to sever the bonds if it means keeping emma and his family safe. julian and emma will be sent on a quest to faerie seemingly to retrieve the black volume and return it to horace/ the clave. according to one of the snippets, they apparently bring it to the seelie queen and she will only tell julian how to break the bonds. i personally don’t think cassie would have done it this way if julian was just going to tell emma right after. either she won't want to know or he’ll refuse to tell her, so i don't think she’ll even be able to break the parabatai bond. (unless they have to do it together which would be super cool) and i’ve mentioned it before, but cassie has said that the shadowhunter world will be changed forever in and leading up to twp and that the storyline would deal with how the protagonists and other characters adapt to those changes. i really feel like one of those changes could be the breaking of the parabatai bonds.

cortana is the key to breaking emma and julian’s parabatai bond (parabatai theory #2): throughout the series, there have been multiple references made to the fact that cortana can cut through anything (ex; using cortana emma killed a rider of manaan which was previously thought to be impossible, emma also destroyed the mortal sword in combat using cortana). if cortana can truly cut anything then surely it should be able to cut the bond between emma and julian. i don’t know exactly how that would work, but this could also tie in with the severing of all parabatai bonds. maybe you need a blade made by wayland the smith to severe them. anything is possible.

that’s basically it on my theories for qoaad. i don’t know if any of them will come true, but i had a lot of fun theorizing over the past year and a half while i waited for queen. in the past couple weeks i’ve reread cohf, lady midnight, and lord of shadows in preparation for queen of air and darkness, so i only posted the theories i thought were relevant or most likely based on the proof i had from those previous books. maybe once i’m done with queen i’ll make a separate post of all the theories i had that were correct or partially correct.

since queen comes out tomorrow (technically today since it’s 5 AM) i wanted to make this long overdue announcement. i know i don't have a ton of followers (100 as of just recently!! thank you guys sm!), but many of you guys are tda or shadowhunter fans, so from now until sometime in january (likely january 4, but possibly later as i know some people will be getting the book for christmas) i will be tagging nearly all queen of air and darkness posts with the tags #qoaadspoilers, #qoaad spoilers, #queen of air and darkness spoilers (with the exception of things we already know like stuff from snippets or non-spoilery pictures). if you don’t wish to see any spoilers from me you can block these tags. that way posts tagged as such won’t show up on your news feed. i know a lot of other blogs are doing the same, so it’s a pretty great way to block spoilers all across the board (even cassie recommended it)! if any of you want to know anything specific about the book feel free to pm me, i've literally been talking about this book for weeks so once i know what its actually about i’ll be more than happy to rant about it with any of you!

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humansunshineao3 · 6 years

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Fighting the Good Fight [Ch. 13]

Alec Lightwood just wants to run his Institute in peace.

This is the story that could’ve unfolded if Jace didn’t exist.

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Magnus/Alec, Clary/Izzy

Tags: Jace doesn’t exist, transgender alec lightwood, retelling of the TV show, Internalized Transphobia, Panic Attacks, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Lightwood Siblings Feels, Izzy and Alec are parabatai, Family Dynamics, Homophobia, top surgery, Trigger warnings in chapter notes, in depth trigger warnings

AUTHOR’S NOTES

Anxiety/fear: Simon has to come face to face with Camille, who obviously killed him. Additionally, Magnus is very anxious around Camille, and it’s clear that he bears some emotional scars from his time with her. Clary sort of switches off from anxiety in the last section of the chapter because of the fight with Valentine and his shadowhunters. Alec also experiences some anxiety, but is distracted from it by Magnus.

Violence: Camille lashes out at Raphael and knocks him unconscious. Alec beats the ever loving shit out of Hodge, which is immensely satisfying. There’s a fight scene towards the end that has some mild gore including tongues being bitten out and achilles tendons being severed, but none of our heroes get injured too badly, so all is well. There’s some violence between Izzy and Valentine as well, but nothing too severe.

Emotional abuse: Camille employs several tactics to break Magnus down, including body shaming, belittling his feelings, gaslighting and slut shaming him. Magnus is upset by it but not devastated. Camille also tries to tear Alec down but he shrugs it off. Valentine tries to get inside Clary’s head by insinuating that they’re the same kind of person, while simultaneously insulting her ability by referencing Ragnor and Simon’s death.

Sexual Assault: Camille kisses Magnus against his will, and pierces his lip with her fangs. Magnus is almost immediately reassured by Alec after this happens.

References to racism: Alec and Magnus talk about how shitty the shadowhunters used to be in centuries gone past. It’s canon-typical but it’s there.

Sexual tension: Nothing happens but Magnus and Alec have a Moment™ in the third to last scene.

Previous Chapter

Episode 13: Morning Star

Raj had been walking around the city for hours. He’d been on worse missions, but there was nothing as mind-numbingly boring as wandering aimlessly around a ten block radius looking for a fugitive. This morning he’d spotted this deli that made his mouth water every time he passed it, the smell of sourdough and cured meat making his stomach rumble. He’d promised himself a break at 1pm, and when he just happened to walk past the deli at 12.53, he shrugged and decided it was close enough.

The last hour of his patrol he’d been considering what he’d order, so he already had ‘pesto ciabatta with salami and prosciutto’ on the tip of his tongue, but then he saw this huge crusty loaf come fresh out onto the display shelf and he had to start from square one all over again. As he weighed his options, he glanced out the window.

His eyes met the pale blue ones of Hodge Starkweather, who was standing looking in through the window.

Hodge ran for it, and Raj grunted, abandoning his place in the queue as he stumbled out the door to sprint after the traitor. “Fuck you, man! Fuck you!” Raj shouted, activating his speed rune.

As Hodge skidded around a corner, Raj pulled out his phone to call Alec, stopping in his tracks as he turned the corner after Hodge and found himself standing in a dead end. Raj groaned, letting his head tip back as Alec answered the phone.

“Report?” Alec asked, and Raj sighed.

“I saw Hodge. He was headed west, nearing the park. I almost had him, but he disappeared in a dead-end alley. Guessing he infiltrated a mundane’s home and got out the back.” Raj explained, running his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Lightwood. I fucked it.”

Alec sighed. “It’s alright, you did all you could. I’m calling in the wolves to help us,there’s no way we can track him through the city with the manpower we have. Get up on the roof and see if you can find him, keep me updated. Well done spotting him, at least we have a lead now.”

“Just doing my job.” Raj answered, and after a brief goodbye, hung up. He kicked the wall next to him, embarrassment making him want to scream. First Hodge uses his sexuality, which he’d stupidly revealed on a night out to the Hunter’s Moon, as a way to con his way past Alec, and now he just let him slip away through his fingers. He wouldn’t be surprised if Alec sent him back to the academy for this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, everyone. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Alec raised his voice to get everyone’s attention, standing at the front of the ops centre with his hands behind his back. “Raj spotted Hodge just east of the park, heading west. We could try and predict where he’s going, but Hodge is clever, he was most likely taking a route to throw Raj off. I’m going to liase with Luke Garroway of the New York pack, he’s promised us the help of the wolves. Lydia, I want you to stay here and triangulate communication. I need to know of any new developments, I’ll instruct everyone to report to you every half hour, it’ll be in your discretion to keep everyone updated. Anyone doesn’t report back, send back-up to check on them. Everyone else, I want you out on the streets, checking big empty spaces in the city. If Valentine’s creating an army he’s not gonna be hiding in a downtown loft. Everybody understand?”

There was a hum of affirmation among the shadowhunters, and Alec nodded, dismissing them.

“I’m going to take Clary to the Hotel DuMort to retrieve the Book of the White,” Izzy took Alec aside the moment the attention was off him, “Camille has it. Simon’s promised us an audience with Raphael to get it back from her.”

“Don’t bother reporting to Lydia, just keep me updated. Magnus is creating portals to get our people out faster, I’m sure he won’t mind making one for you and Clary.” Alec told her, heading towards the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Be careful, Alec. Hodge is dangerous.” Izzy insisted, and Alec shrugged.

“Always am.”

“Did he okay us going to the Hotel DuMort?” Clary asked, appearing at Izzy’s elbow. She had daggers strapped to her thighs and a seraph blade in her hand, and if they weren’t in the middle of a crisis, it might have distracted Izzy.

“I don’t think he even registered what I was asking, honestly, but he did, yeah. Let’s go. Is Simon in good standing with Raphael?” Izzy grabbed a wooden stake to put in her hip holster, she and Clary falling into step together as they made their way towards the entrance.

Clary shrugged sheepishly. “I’m assuming so; in all the excitement I haven’t been able to talk to him much. He sounded happy enough on the phone, though.”

Magnus was standing next to a portal that was bigger than average, monitoring the shadowhunters passing through it. He’d cast a flexible portal rather than a one-destination one; it meant less magic consumption, and he had a feeling he’d need to call on his magic a lot more before the day was done.

“How are you holding up?” Clary asked him as they approached, and he shrugged.

“I’m the High Warlock of Brooklyn. I’m fine.”

“Do you think you can keep it up long enough for us to use it?” Izzy checked.

Magnus held out his arm towards the portal, inviting them through just as the last shadowhunter hopped through to their assigned area. “You’re the last ones I need to transport.”

“Thank you, Magnus,” Clary smiled at him, tugging Izzy through the portal and staggering on her feet a little as they came out the other side, right on the doorstep of the Hotel DuMort. Simon and Raphael were waiting just inside the door, out of the reach of the sun. Simon rushed forward to hug Clary once the door was shut, his face turned carefully away from her skin. Raphael and Izzy nodded at each other in greeting.

“So you want me to let Camille go?” Raphael drawled, leading them up to a reception room. The windows were all boarded up with bricks, and it was decorated so lavishly that Clary couldn’t help but wonder if all downworlders were filthy rich. It reminded Isabelle of the tombs of the Pharaohs of Egypt, full of wonderful things but without that life-giving touch of sunlight.

In the vampires’ case, she supposed, it would be the opposite of life-giving.

“We need to know where she hid the Book of the White,” Izzy explained, remaining standing as Raphael sat down on a hard-looking leather sofa. “No doubt she’ll want something in return for it.”

“She’ll want her freedom,” Raphael insisted, “there’s no way she’ll accept anything less. And I can’t afford to give that to her.”

“She kills mundanes, Isabelle,” Simon reminded her, “people will die if we let her go.”

Clary put her hands on her hips. “Can we trick her? Make her think we’re going to let her go and then recapture her?”

“It took a hundred vampires to subdue her the last time,” Raphael pointed out.

“We need the Book of the White to wake up my Mom.” Clary explained, pushing her hair back from her face. “She knows Valentine better than anyone, she can help us defeat him.”

“Or she’ll just run away again and leave you all to deal with it.” Raphael replied coolly.

Simon shook his head. “Jocelyn would do anything to protect Clary. That’s the only reason why she ran before. Now Clary’s involved in the fight, she’d never abandon it. She was like my Mom, too. She’s a good woman.” He insisted.

“Can we at least talk to Camille? Maybe we can offer her a plea bargain with the Clave?” Izzy suggested.

Raphael pursed his lips, considering it. “You can speak to her. But I will not allow her to leave these walls. Not until the Clave arrests her and takes her away.”

Clary and Izzy looked at each other for a long moment. Simon glanced at Raphael, who was watching a silent communication pass between the two women. Suspicion rose in him, and he raised his chin.

“Alright, let’s do that.” Izzy answered, “we agree to your terms.”

Camille’s casket was so thickly covered in chains that Izzy couldn’t tell where they begun. Raphael pulled a string out from under his shirt, revealing a key that had been hanging around his neck. Clary and Izzy watched as he bent down to grasp the padlock that hung down underneath the table the casket was sitting on, and with a flick of his wrist it fell away. He and Simon moved the chains slowly off the ivory coffin, letting them drop to the ground at their feet.

“If she makes a move to escape, do I have your permission to stake her, Raphael?” Izzy asked, her fingers wrapping around the stake at her hip.

“I’m way ahead of you,” he admitted wryly, pulling a stake out of his back pocket.

“Are you ready, Simon?” Clary asked, rubbing his back.

Simon looked paler than usual, and that was saying something. “The last time I saw her was when she killed me,” he said quietly, straightening his spine. “I’m ready.”

Raphael and Clary opened the coffin, and Izzy readied herself as the lid lifted up to reveal Simon’s sire. She’d never seen a vampire at rest before, and she was surprised to note that Camille didn’t look as dead as Izzy had expected her to. She wasn’t breathing but there was colour in her cheeks, and it was only when Izzy noticed the IV drip in her arm, attached to a blood bag strung up next to the coffin, that she understood why.

“Keep your guard up,” Raphael urged, his eyes fixed on Camille’s still body, “she can probably hear us, she’s waiting for an opening.”

“Let her wait forever,” Simon muttered, “I’m never relaxing around her.”

Camille’s eyes snapped open, smirking when she saw Izzy raise her stake threateningly. “My, my, my, what on Earth do we have here?” She drawled, her dark eyes looking at each of them in turn. “Have you brought me some angel-flavoured snacks, my little caramel?”

“They’re not snacks,” Simon snapped, his voice trembling despite himself, “and I wouldn’t bring you anything!”

“Tell us where you hid the Book of the White.” Clary demanded.

“The what?”

“Don’t act smart. The only reason this coffin is open is because the shadowhunters need something from you.” Raphael insisted. “The second we deem you useless, you get chained right back up again.”

“It’s a warlock spellbook,” Izzy explained, “Ragnor Fell gave it to you.”

Camille’s eyes lit up, and she started to sit up slowly. “It’s only taken him a hundred years to notice it was gone, he must be taking his vitamins.”

“We need it for my mother,” Clary raised her chin, “to help stop Valentine.”

“Valentine? My goodness, you really do need me.” Camille laughed, pushing her hair over her shoulder. “Well, we’ve got no time to lose, then. Step aside, Raphael, there’s a good boy.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” Raphael chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re going to tell them where the damned book is or I’m going to let Isabelle here stake you through the heart. It would save us all a lot of time and energy.”

“Are you really going to let them kill me? I made you. I’m your sire.” Camille said to Simon, her eyebrows furrowed.

Simon put his hands on his hips. “You say sire, I say murderer. You can rot in hell, Camille. I bet you don’t even remember my name.”

Camille pressed her lips together, and Clary clenched her jaw.

“You really don’t remember? You’re sick.” She spat. “Tell us where the book is!”

“What, so you can just put me back in this box?” Camille shook her head. “No. What you’re going to do is, you’re going to let me go and I’m going to lead you to the book. Otherwise no deal. If you kill me, you’ll never find it. I promise you that.”

Izzy bit her lip, considering their options. If they let Camille go, it would be difficult for the Clave to recapture her, but not impossible. They’d wake Jocelyn and save countless mundanes and downworlders from Valentine’s plans. If they left Camille here, they’d have to find a way to get to Valentine without Jocelyn, which would make everything a lot more difficult. Thousands of downworlders and dozens of mundanes could die.

“We have to,” Izzy murmured, making eye contact with Clary.

“You are not taking her.” Raphael warned them, his fangs dropping.

“What choice do we have?” Simon asked miserably, “we need to wake Jocelyn. Alec will catch her. We know he will.”

“She’s too dangerous,” Raphael insisted, grasping the coffin and beginning to close it.

Camille rolled her eyes, and moved as quick as a flash, diving at Raphael and ramming him into the wall behind him, his head knocking into the brick. He slumped to the floor as she let him go, unconscious. Straightening up, she flipped her long hair over her shoulder and flashed the others a smirk. “Let’s go.”

“Is he alright?!” Simon asked, his eyes wide. Camille grabbed his wrist, dragging him towards the door.

“He’ll be fine,” Camille shrugged, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Clary and Izzy were following. “And I’ll need one more thing from you, my little caramel.”

Simon blanched. “What?”

“I need a written agreement that you asked me to turn you,” she explained. “That way I can go free to start again, far far away, without the Clave yapping at my heels.”

“No way, that’s too far. Simon isn’t signing anything.” Clary growled, catching up to them. “You killed him, he isn’t giving you a damned thing.”

“If you don’t, I’m not helping you find the book.” Camille warned. Simon swallowed hard, and nodded.

“You don’t have to do that, Simon,” Izzy insisted, but Simon wrenched his hand out of Camille’s grasp, falling into step next to her.

“Yes I do. Jocelyn’s like a Mom to me too, Iz. I’ll do anything to save her.”

“Excellent!” Camille purred, “I know just the warlock to draw it up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hadn’t taken too long for Luke’s pack to locate Hodge. They cornered him near the docks in just over an hour, keeping him pinned down, quite literally, until Alec was able to reach the scene. Hodge looked pale with terror, on his back underneath a shifted werewolf, and Alec felt a twist of satisfaction to look at it.

“He doesn’t have the mortal cup. He must have already given it to Valentine. Maia, let him up.” Luke ordered as Alec neared them, and the beta wolf growled in Hodge’s face before reluctantly getting off him, padding over to stand next to Luke as Alec yanked Hodge to his feet.

“Thank the angel you’re here,” Hodge muttered breathlessly, gripping onto Alec’s jacket with wide eyes. “The Clave are trying to frame me, because of Raj-”

Alec punched him in the nose, flooring him in an instant. He didn’t even feel the anger, he just fell to his knees and rained down punches on Hodge’s face and chest, and it was only when Luke rushed forwards to grab him did he realise he was shouting, roaring in anger. As Luke pulled him up, the beta wolf, Maia, tilted her head to the side, and bared her teeth like she was smiling.

“Alec, we need him. Get a hold of yourself.” Luke reminded him, though he patted Alec on the shoulder.

Hodge didn’t move a muscle, totally unconscious, and Alec sniffed, wiping his hands on his trousers.

“He got past me, Luke. Just ‘cause he said he was gay. And then he has the nerve-”

“I get it. I get it better than most.” Luke soothed, squeezing his arm. “Valentine was my parabatai, I understand betrayal and I understand the drive for revenge.. Just sit down for a minute. He’s not going anywhere.”

Alec nodded, lowering himself to the ground with shaky knees. “You’re right. You’re right.” He turned his face away from Hodge’s prone form, looking out over the water.

“You stay here, alright? I’ll deal with this.” Luke promised, backing away from him, and Alec frowned.

“What are you talking about? I’m not going to just sit here while you take him back to the institute; they wouldn’t let you in, for starters.”

He glanced over at Luke to see him dragging a barely conscious Hodge to his feet, slapping him a few times to wake him up. As Alec moved to get up to help, Maia and another wolf rounded on him, Maia putting a warning paw on his chest.

“This is between me and Valentine, Alec. It’ll take too long to interrogate Hodge, I have to go after Valentine now before he creates a rogue army. We don’t have time. I’m sorry, Alec.” Luke said, pulling Hodge away. Alec growled under his breath, looking up into the faces of the two wolves holding him there.

“You’ll need backup!” Alec shouted, but Luke didn’t look back. He sighed and let Maia push him back down to sit. “You know, I could arrest the two of you for interfering with Clave business.”

Maia huffed, and Alec pressed his lips together.

“I’m just saying I COULD.”

The two wolves looked at each other for a moment, and then back at Alec.

“Can I at least use my phone?”

Maia took her paw off Alec’s chest and sat next to him on the curb. Alec glanced at the other wolf, who looked a little more antsy, but who turned their head when Alec slowly pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Hey, Iz, where are you?” Alec asked as she answered the phone, crossing one ankle over the other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alec’s gonna meet us at Magnus’.” Izzy told the others, tucking her phone back into her pocket. “He’s got a couple of wolves tailing him. Luke took Hodge and went after Valentine himself.”

“They have unfinished business,” Clary nodded, glad that Luke was in control of the situation. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Alec to do his job, but she knew Luke’s stake in this was more personal than anyone’s. He wouldn’t let Valentine go again, not this time.

“Shadowhunter drama is exhausting,” Camille sighed. “Don’t you ever just take vacations?”

Clary, Izzy and Simon glared at her, and she shrugged. The door of Magnus’ loft opened before Simon could knock, Magnus standing in the hallway looking pensive.

“What do you want?” He asked, his uneasy eyes on Camille, who just smiled sweetly at him.

“Magnus, you look just as lovely as I remember. A little heavier, perhaps, but…”

“What do you want?” Magnus repeated, closing his robe a little tighter.

“She wants a contract saying Simon asked to be turned.” Izzy answered, giving Camille a little shove into Magnus’ loft. “She won’t give us the Book of the White without it.”

Camille and Magnus were looking at each other like they were having a silent conversation, and Simon felt uncomfortable just watching them. He was terrified of Camille and he’d only been on the receiving end of her manipulations for a couple of weeks. He couldn’t imagine how Magnus was feeling at that moment. Clary and Izzy sheathed their weapons, satisfied that Raphael hadn’t managed to follow them.

“I’m going to go and wait for Alec outside, check the wolves aren’t giving him too much grief.” Izzy murmured, glancing at her phone.

“Simon, can I talk to you for a minute?” Clary tugged Simon out to the balcony, leaving Magnus and Camille alone.

“How long has it been, hmm? One hundred? One hundred and fifty years?” Camille asked, reaching up to run her fingers across Magnus’ cheek. He flinched away from it, and led her into the apothecary.

“One hundred and thirty eight,” Magnus answered, lifting his chin. “And oddly, I haven’t missed you at all.”

Camille glanced around the room, laughing lightly. “Of course you have, my love.”

“I thought I was done with you.” Magnus muttered, reaching for a piece of parchment.

“We’ll never be done with each other, you and I.” Camille purred, perching on the desk next to him.

“Oh, I put you in my past years ago. That is never going to change.”

Camille leaned closer to him, giving him a whiff of that same perfume that she used to wear all those years ago. “Don’t be like that. We had so much fun together. Besides, it’s petty to hold grudges.”

“You may have had fun picking me apart piece by piece, but it’s not one of the highlights of that century for me, let’s just put it that way.” Magnus snapped, contorting his fingers over the parchment, making the contract appear on the sheet.

“You’ve always been sensitive.” Camille sighed, trailing her fingers down his arm, “that must have been why I left you, I can barely remember.”

Magnus hated himself for letting that sting, but he couldn’t help it. How could she not remember the show of strength, decades overdue, when he finally left her? When he finally packed his bags and told her that he was done? How could she have forgotten?

“Oh, yes. Now I recall.” Camille mused, shaking her head with a smile. “You were upset by my dalliance with that short-lived Russian. Always with the monogamy unless it was you in the middle, hmm?”

“That’s not why I left and you know it.” Magnus replied coldly, his eyes on the parchment. “I feel nothing for you or for anything that happened between us. Gave that up over a century ago.”

Camille smiled. “You see? I was right. Love is fleeting.”

“And yet true love cannot die,” Magnus shot back. He regretted it as soon as he let it escape his lips, and with a glance at Camille he knew that she had figured it out.

“Oh, my darling. Have you fooled yourself thinking you’ve fallen in love… Again?”

Magnus clenched his jaw, finishing up the writ with a flick of his wrist. “That is none of your concern.”

“True love may not die,” Camille smirked, “but people can.”

“If only you’d do us all a favour and prove that yourself-”

“So touchy.” Camille cooed, stroking his chest. “So I’m right. Two hundred years later and you’re still as naive as the day I met you. It’s almost endearing. But we both know what lurks underneath this pretty shell, Magnus. What kind of darkness hides in your heart. You wouldn’t know what to do with a true lover if you found them.”

Magnus pursed his lips, snatching up the writ from his desk. “You know nothing about me.”

“Oh… Oh, Magnus, my love.” Camille tutted. Her red manicured nails wrapped around his cravat. “I know everything about you. Including…” She sniffed the air delicately. “Oh, darling. You stupid, beautiful boy.” She laughed, grasping his chin with her free hand. “A shadowhunter. You’ve given your heart to a shadowhunter.”

“He’s everything that you are not.” Magnus snarled, his eyes gleaming amber.

Camille flashed him her teeth, and tugged him in for a kiss, the sharp edge of her fangs catching his lip and making him gasp. She hummed into it, and Magnus shoved her back, wiping at the swell of blood on his mouth. He felt a little sick at the satisfaction on her face, the hunger in her eyes at the taste of his blood, and he turned his face away from her to see Alec standing in the doorway.

For a moment, Magnus and Alec just stared at each other, Magnus’ heart going cold in his chest. Camille must have smelled Alec and Izzy coming, must have timed it just for this. Alec turned his attention to Camille and glared at her, rolling his eyes when she smiled sweetly at him.

“You certainly have a type, don’t you, darling? Brunette, tall… A little… Sassy. He’s cute.” She drawled, looking Alec up and down. “Too bad it won’t last.”

Izzy’s face was cold with anger, and Magnus shrank away from the Lightwood siblings, shame crawling through his veins. “Say that again,” she warned, her eyes intent on Camille, “and you won’t last.”

Alec snorted, and walked past the vampire, going to Magnus’ side. “You alright?”

“She pounced on me, I didn’t-”

“I know, it’s okay. Exes can be a lot, huh?” He murmured, and Magnus smiled, sucking his lower lip into his mouth to soothe the sting lingering from Camille’s fangs.

“A lot.” Magnus agreed, the tightness in his chest easing a little. “Now, Camille, we’ve fulfilled our end of the bargain. Where’s the Book of the White?”

Simon and Clary wandered in, the two of them looking a little less depressed after checking in with each other. “Yeah, I’ll sign your stupid contract once you tell us where the book is.”

Camille rolled her head on her neck, pulling a hairpin from her head and walking over to Simon. “Sign first, book later.” She pressed, and Simon looked to Alec for advice.

“Just do it, she’s not getting out of here with all five of us ready to kill her.” Alec shrugged, and Camille smirked at him over her shoulder, pricking Simon’s finger with the hairpin and making him yelp.

“Oh, that explains it. You’re a murderer. Magnus never liked virtue in his lovers.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Clary snapped.

Alec didn’t bother to grace her with a response. He knew her type, he’d been bullied throughout his time at the academy in Alicante. He’d been called a lot worse than a murderer.

“Where do I sign?” Simon sighed, holding out his bleeding finger with a grimace on his face. Magnus took his shoulder and showed him, handing him a quill to make it easier. The moment Simon finished writing the ‘s’ of Lewis, Camille snatched it from the desk and rolled it up, tucking it into her dress.

“Excellent.” She purred, cupping Simon’s chin. “Now we’re both free to live our lives without fear of the Clave.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Alec sing-songed, tangling his hands together behind his back. “I’m still the head of the institute, and if I get a whiff of you in New York after today I will send my entire staff after you.”

Camille glanced at Magnus, who looked nervous, and tilted her head to the side. “Then I suppose we’d better hurry, hmm? The sun will be up in a couple of hours.” She looked at Clary, adjusting her dress. “The book is at my apartment in Manhattan.”

“I’ll drive,” Simon volunteered, and everyone looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. It took him a moment, but he smiled when he remembered, “portals exist.”

Magnus chuckled and turned towards the wall to cast them a portal. “Still the same place?” He guessed, not looking at Camille.

“Of course, darling. I’m a creature of habit.”

Izzy scoffed, and put her hands on her hips.

The room was tense and silent as Magnus finished creating the portal, everyone except Camille looking serious and withdrawn. They were so close to retrieving the Book of the White and waking up Jocelyn. Izzy and Clary went through the portal first to keep Camille from running away, followed by Camille and Simon, and finally Magnus and Alec. Alec reached out to grasp Magnus’ sleeve as they stepped through the magic gateway, and Magnus twisted his wrist to take his hand, squeezing his fingers gently.

“I’m fairly sure it’s in the drawing room, but it could be in the library. It’s been a long time.” Camille sighed, gesturing at the walls of books around them. “Better get looking.”

“Are you kidding me?! You don’t even know where it is?” Izzy demanded, shaking her head. “This is not a fair deal!”

Clary was walking towards Camille to give her a good punch again when her phone rang, her heart leaping into her throat as she saw Luke’s name flashing on the screen. “Luke? Did you get him?”

“No, there were too many of them. Still got Hodge, though.” Luke panted, “He’s heading for you, kid, you have to get out of there. He knows you’re trying to wake Jocelyn.”

“We can’t leave, we have to find the book.” Clary insisted. “We have to wake up Mom.”

“Clary-”

Clary hung up the phone, and turned to the others. “We haven’t got time to deal with Camille, we have to find that book now. Valentine’s on his way.”

“We’ll check the library, there’s more books there.” Magnus suggested, gesturing with his head for Alec and Simon to follow him. He was sort of familiar with Camille’s library; it hadn’t changed much since he was last here, and he’d spent a lot of time reading in here while Camille had her way with whatever mundane she’d picked to cheat on Magnus with that week.

“What does the book look like?” Alec asked. His head was tilted back a little to look up at all the shelves.

“It’s white and gold,” Magnus told them, striding over to the sliding ladder to start checking the higher shelves. “On its spine is the word ‘album’.”

“Album?” Simon repeated, “what, does it have photos in it?”

“Album means white,” Alec explained before Magnus could open his mouth. “Why is a warlock book bound in the shadowhunter colours?”

Magnus pressed his lips together, scanning the shelf in front of him, “Because originally it was meant to be a reference for shadowhunters. But Ragnor’s mother, or adopted mother, decided against granting the shadowhunters access to the spells and potions in there. The shadowhunters were too big a threat back then; the angel blood in them wasn’t as diluted and they had access to a touch of magic.”

Alec hummed, his fingers running along each shelf in turn. “I heard that. About our ancestors having magic. I don’t blame the warlocks for wanting to keep their secrets. Shadowhunters back then were savages.”

“Like Valentine?” Simon pressed tentatively, and Alec nodded.

“The only thing that kept them from totally wiping out downworlders was the fact that they enjoyed hunting them for sport.” Alec said quietly, his eyes darting up towards Magnus. “They were animals.”

“Seems Ragnor did his job of teaching this generation the truth of their lineage,” Magnus mused, his tone light to break the macabre tension in the room. “Any luck down there?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Magnus said before that the book is white and gold.” Clary explained, “most of these books are brown or black, so it should be easy.”

Izzy nodded and went to the opposite side of the room. Camille had scarpered the moment Magnus left the room, and neither Izzy or Clary made a move to stop her. They’d get her another time. “What’s the plan for when Valentine shows up?”

“No idea,” Clary admitted, “but we can’t let him get this book.”

“Alright,” Izzy chuckled, shaking her head as her eyes swept along the shelves closest to the door, “I guess that’s worked for us up until now.”

“I got it!” Clary yelped, plucking the Book of the White off the wall. “This is it! Look, it has the Latin for white on the side, this must be it!”

Izzy turned to cross the room to see, but ran into a solid chest. With a glance up, she saw it was Valentine, but before she could flick out her whip, his seraph dagger was pressed to her throat. One of his new shadowhunters grabbed Clary, and to Izzy’s dismay, Alec, Magnus and Simon were marched in too, all held like her with blades to their necks.

“Well done, Clarissa. You came so close.” Valentine sneered, yanking Izzy around to face Clary by her hair. “You’ve done well. Assembled a little army, figured out the problems that arose. You did lose one soldier,” Valentine smirked at Magnus, who clenched his jaw, “and of course, you let a dangerous vampire run free, but… You are promising.”

“What do you want, Valentine?” Clary spat, meeting Magnus’ eyes, who tilted his head just a little, as if to say ‘keep him talking.’

Valentine pulled Izzy along with him as he walked over to Clary. “That’s very simple. I want you by my side, helping me lead our army. It is your birthright, after all.”

“She’s not interested!” Simon insisted, making Valentine turn to look at him, Izzy hissing in pain as the dagger dug into her skin.

“Oh, yes, I forgot about you. You really should have kept a better eye on your little mundane friend, Clarissa. Letting him get turned into a filthy vampire. Should’ve let him die, he would have been better off.” Valentine mused. “Ah, well, there’s always a chance to right our wrongs.” He nodded at the shadowhunter who was holding Simon. “Kill him.”

The shadowhunter holding Magnus, next to Simon, collapsed to the ground, and Magnus burst free from his arms, sending a shockwave from his body and knocking everyone in the room to the ground. Alec had his seraph blade out before he even hit the floor, and lunged back up to his feet before the shadowhunter that had been holding him, cutting his achilles tendon and incapacitating him. The shadowhunter that had been holding Simon was quicker than his friend, and bore down on Simon. Alec only just reached him in time to block his killing blow, and the two of them started exchanging swings of a sword, Alec putting his back to Simon to protect him.

“Simon, run to the institute and bring backup,” Alec ordered, glancing over at the others between blows.

Izzy was trying to get Valentine’s blade from his hand, but he had years of experience on her. Clary was standing over a dead shadowhunter looking shell-shocked, and Magnus was on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. Izzy cried out, and Alec’s stomach lurched to see Valentine grab her, abandoning his fight with the shadowhunter to run towards them.

“Wake your mother, Clarissa. Soon we’ll all be together again,” Valentine smiled, smashing a portal stone into the ground and dragging Izzy with him.

“No!” Alec screamed, sprinting for the portal, but Magnus caught his ankle and sent him flying. “Magnus, let me go!”

“If you go through that portal,” Magnus panted, squeezing his eyes shut as it closed, “you’ll be lost. You don’t know where it was coming out, you’d have been stuck in limbo.”

Clary screamed in rage as the last shadowhunter, the one that had been fighting Alec, went for Magnus, and stabbed him through the stomach. The moment he hit the ground, Clary dropped her seraph blade, hands shaking. Magnus heaved himself up off the ground, and pulled her into a hug.

“It’s alright, Biscuit,” he told her, “you had to.”

Clary stared at Alec over his shoulder, and Alec stared back, both pairs of eyes empty and lost.

Izzy was gone.

Alec got up silently, stepping past Magnus’ offer of a hug and walking over to the shadowhunter he’d incapacitated, dragging him to his feet. “Where did they go?” He demanded, but the shadowhunter said nothing, opening his mouth in a bloody grin. His tongue fell out and onto the floor, and Alec dropped him, recoiling. He’d bitten out his own tongue. He looked over at Magnus, who looked grim but unsurprised.

“We’ll find her, Alexander. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luke was waiting for them back at the institute, his clothes torn and blood-spattered. “Werewolf healing, I’m fine,” he assured Clary as she checked him over for signs of injury, “Hodge is in custody.”

Alec walked right past the two of them once he’d handed the mute shadowhunter over to Raj, going up to Lydia. “Have you sent a team to the docks?”

“Yes. We think that Valentine has access to a cargo vessel. He’s gone over water to avoid our tracking.” She explained. “I’m so sorry, Alec.”

“Izzy’s fine,” he replied, “she’s unharmed, she’s just trapped. If he planned to kill her he would have done it already.” Alec was trying to convince himself more than anyone else, forcing himself to think rationally so the panic clawing up his throat wouldn’t overwhelm him. Magnus came up behind him, and took his elbow gently.

“You need to get out of your binder, Alexander,” he reminded him, and Alec nodded, letting Magnus lead him to his room. Magnus hesitated in the door when they got there, but Alec pulled him inside.

“Stay?” Alec asked, “just for a while?”

“Of course.” Magnus answered, “do you want me to turn around while you-”

Alec pulled his shirt over his head, quirking his eyebrow at Magnus. “Do you want to turn around?”

“I…” Magnus’ mouth open and closed a few times. “Alec, I…”

“How about I turn around?” Alec suggested, sucking his lower lip into his mouth before turning his back to Magnus and peeling off his binder, his toned muscles bunching and relaxing as he lifted his arms. Magnus swallowed hard as Alec reached for his sports bra. “You doing okay back there?”

“I’m great.” Magnus insisted, wringing his hands together as Alec wriggled into his clothes. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry that you had to see me kiss Camille. I didn’t want to.”

Alec turned back around, settling his shirt back over his hips. “Anyone with eyes could see that you didn’t want it. It’s fine. She seems… Well, I don’t like to use the word insane, but…”

“Something is definitely off in that twisted little brain,” Magnus agreed.

“She was right about one thing, though. This won’t last. At least, not for you.” Alec sighed, walking over to his dresser and picking up the framed picture of he and Izzy that sat there. He looked at it hard for a moment. “My whole life will go by in a flash for you. What’ll happen when-”

“Alexander,” Magnus said softly, putting his hand on Alec’s waist. “I may be the High Warlock of Brooklyn, but even I can’t tell the future. We’ve only just met. Who knows what’s going to happen between us in the weeks and months to come, hmm?” He stroked Alec’s back soothingly. “Besides, right now we need to focus on Izzy.”

“I don’t know where to start,” Alec confessed, putting the picture down. “I have no idea what to do. It feels like I’m staring at a brick wall.”

“Well, we can start by waking Jocelyn. She might have a better idea about what Valentine’s plans are than we do. And now he’s made himself an army of shadowhunters…”

“There’s no telling what his endgame is,” Alec finished. Magnus was right. Jocelyn could provide insight into what Valentine was up to, and if they could just get ahead of him, there was a chance of them getting Izzy back. No doubt Izzy was doing her best to escape too; Alec had faith, deep down, that she was strong enough to come through this. Still, Alec hated the thought of her all alone, surrounded by Valentine and his army of new shadowhunters. “Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clary sat in the infirmary with her mother and Luke, staring at Jocelyn’s sleeping face. Her mind was totally blank, as blank as the look on her face, as she saw the lifeless bodies of the shadowhunters she’d killed, over and over again. There was an awareness in her that she should feel something. But she just… Didn’t.

“What happened back there, Clary?” Luke asked softly, touching her shoulder. “Come on, kid, talk to me. I’m here.”

“I’m alright,” Clary answered, tearing her eyes from Jocelyn’s face to look up at him. “We just have to wake up Mom so we can get Izzy back.”

Saying her name hurt, and Clary was somewhat relieved to know she could still feel something.

She should have been quicker; if she hadn’t been so absorbed in that dead shadowhunter, she could have helped. She could have stopped Valentine from grabbing Izzy. Maybe Valentine would have been just another dead body slumped at her feet. Maybe Izzy would be sitting there next to her, squeezing her hand. But she’d hesitated, and now Izzy was gone.

“Biscuit?”

Clary looked up at the sound of Magnus’ voice, but she couldn’t quite summon a smile. “We’re ready,” she told him, giving he and Alec space beside Jocelyn’s body.

Magnus nodded and opened the book, flicking through the pages deftly. He swept his hand over Jocelyn’s body, and frowned when his magic fizzled. “Must still be a little low from the fight,” he muttered, glancing at Alec. “I don’t suppose you could…”

Alec offered him his hand, but Magnus tilted his head a little, a small smile on his face. “What?”

“A kiss would be more efficient.” Magnus told him, and Alec snorted through a reluctant smile, leaning in to press his lips to Magnus’.

“When did this happen?” Luke muttered to Clary, who smiled weakly at him.

Magnus hummed into the kiss, feeling Alec’s energy fizzle through his veins, and pulled away. “Thank you, Alexander.”

“You are very welcome,” Alec murmured, eyes warm.

“Luke, put your arms under her ready to catch, or she’ll fall.” Magnus instructed, waving his hand over Jocelyn once more and nodding when it took, the blue-silver magic crackling in the air. He said the incantation, his magic rumbling and sinking into Jocelyn’s skin in thunderous bursts, and after the third burst, the green energy surrounding her dissipated, and she tumbled gently into Luke’s arms.

“Mom?” Clary stepped forward, and Magnus tugged Alec back to give the family of three a little space.

Jocelyn’s eyes fluttered open, and she smiled to see Luke holding her. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Luke’s eyes filled with relieved tears, and he lifted her slightly, cradling her close to his chest. She kissed his cheek gently, resting her forehead on his temple.

“Mom?” Clary repeated as Luke let Jocelyn down. As Jocelyn turned to look, Clary fell into her arms, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder. “You’re alright.”

“And so are you,” Jocelyn sighed, clutching her close. “Oh, Clary, I am so…” She noticed the runes on Clary’s arms, and pulled back. “You’re…”

“A shadowhunter. Yeah.” Clary nodded, squeezing her hands.

“A pretty good one, too.” Alec supplied.

Jocelyn looked between Alec and Clary, and then to Magnus and Luke. “How long was I asleep?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Izzy was thrown careening onto the deck the moment that the portal closed behind them, barely catching herself. She turned over to see Valentine standing over her, three shadowhunters jogging over to them. Not one of them was familiar to Izzy, and her heart sank. Valentine really had created an army.

“Take her to the cells.” Valentine ordered, smirking at Izzy as she was dragged to her feet. “You’re lucky that you look like your mother, Miss Lightwood.”

Izzy spat in his face. “Traitor.”

“You’ve got her fire as well,” Valentine chuckled, wiping his face. “How nice. Take her away.”

“You don’t have to listen to him,” Izzy insisted, digging in her heels as the three shadowhunters pulled her below deck, “he’s not what you think!”

Valentine turned to watch the sunrise, leaning on the railing in front of him. “A new day begins,” he muttered, raising his chin.

READ COMPLETED FIC ON AO3

#transgender alec lightwood #shadowhunters fanfic #shadowhunters fanfiction #fighting the good figh #ftgf verse #content #writing

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jadorehale · 6 years

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This looked f.u.n and i didn’t feel like waiting to be tagged, so thank you @rieraclaelin for bringing this across my dash.

last sentence tag

“If only Stiles were here. He’d know exactly what to do to stop Derek from panicking.”

-From my sterek artist au, a scene that I’ve been fighting to get through.

AO3 tag game

WHAT IS YOUR TOTAL WORD COUNT ON AO3?

215,595. What. the. fuck. And to think, I never feel like I’ve written enough. Granted, I am very long-winded which is why writing takes forever.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU WRITE?

....not often enough that’s for sure. When I’m on, I’m on. I can write for hours straight and get something done in a couple of days. But when I don’t keep a strict schedule or have pressure put on me or allow my social life to get in the way of writing, it’s hard for me to fall back into it. Once I do again though, I’m like “why did it take so long??” I love writing. It’s such an escape for me.

DO YOU HAVE A ROUTINE FOR WRITING?

Yes. Step 1 is writing an outline for how I imagine things will go down in every scene. >> Step 2 is writing out the complete dialogue for the story. >> Step 3 is composing a Pinterest board of pictures and what I’m envisioning for the fic to narrow down the tone, characterization, and details for each setting. >> Step 4 is prose. I block my computer so that I don’t have access to the internet and can just write. While I’m writing, I keep a recording of myself reading my fic for flow and so that I don’t have to re-read my fic a trillion times. I also keep track of word count and check off when I’ve completed each scene. >> Step 5 is editing, using grammarly, etc. And then post and never read again haha. (I really can’t re-read my posted finished fics. It’s like I’ve moved on.)

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE KINKS/TROPES/PAIRING?

Kinks - I enjoy writing power bottoms, verse, slow love making, etc. but I don’t really write too much explicit content. Cause writing sex sucksss.

Trope- I love the sugar daddy trope, mutually beneficial relationships, age difference, i like reading soulmate but haven’t written many, prostitutes, friends to lovers, and many more.

Pairing- I just love writing Sterek ridiculousness.

DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE FIC OF YOURS?

you’ve got me on pins and needles I love this fic because of the art by sixspades and it has some of the funniest jokes I’ve come up with so far.

I love What We Called Love because it’s my first fic and it took all kinds of persistence to finish that WIP. Proved to myself that I can be strong as a writer.

YOUR FIC WITH THE MOST KUDOS?

What We Called Love has the most with 3.4k which is insane. Thank you so much sterek fandom. You’ve given me so much confidence in my writing, you have no idea.

ANYTHING YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT YOUR WRITING?

I’m not good at writing canon. Idk I can do some magical elements like Derek being a werewolf in fics, but I can’t do like full magic or canon re-writes. I don’t like how long it takes me to write. I wish I was more prolific. I wish my prose was more flowery and had like great metaphors and stuff. I still have a lot of growing as a writer.

NOW SOMETHING YOU DO LIKE (ABOUT YOUR WRITING)?

I love my dialogue. I laugh my ass off all the time writing knowingggg that I’m a dork and no one else might find it funny. Just imagine me, like a witch, cackling as I furiously type on the computer. .

ship tag game...

First ship you ever read fic for: Literati Rory/Jess Gilmore Girls. This was like 2005.

First ship you ever wrote fic for: Literati.

Ship you write the most now: Sterek

Ship you read the most now: Sterek, Patater, some Sheith, and Tododeku.

Newest ship: Tododeku (No Boku Hero Academia) I love them!! The fanart is beautiful and they’re both so badass on the show. Also, tragic backstories!

Rare ship you want to read more of: I want to read more Saphael (Simon/Raphael Shadowhunters).

Your taboo ship: I guess it would be Patater (Kent/Tater OMG Check Please) since I’ve seen a lot of hate for it. But they’re like second to sterek in my heart.

They never met in canon ship: Don’t really ship unless they’ve met in canon and I can see their chemistry.

Your unexpected ship: Clizzy (Clary/Izzy Shadowhunters). Otabek/Yuri.

The ship you always forget to give love to: Definitely Malec. Sometimes Victuuri.

Ship your OC with a canon character (if applicable): Nope, Nope, Nope

A ship you’re embarrassed to ship: I’m sure there’s one but I can’t think.

Your most romantic ship: Patater. Kent deserves nice things and therapy. Alexei is so patient with him. x3

Your sexiest ship: Sterek

Your most tragic ship: Sheith can be super tragic and Tododeku. But Sterek can be absolutely soul crushing with the Hales. I’ve cried through my fair share of Sterek fics. .

A ship you want more content for: Patater!

Like I thought, this was fun. I’m going to tag: @everchanginginks, @yetanothersterekblog, @dexterous-sinistrous, @cobrilee, @drgrlfriend, @stileshale, @petals42, @andavs, @tryslora, @triggeringthehealing and anyone, like me, that wants to do this but too impatient to wait to be tagged bahaha!

#jadorehale #tag meme #ao3 writers

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indecent-lemon · 7 years

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“Can you come out now?”

Featuring Kit and Ty

Based on this post by @themortalfckup

Guess who’s writing again? Thank you to everyone who stuck by me || Sorry if it’s a bit rusty || also this kinda took forever because there was a ton of re-editing

Ty pandered his family asking for Christopher’s whereabouts. The Lost Herondale seemed to disappear from Tiberius’ sight the second he took his slate-gray eyes off of him. And then return hours later, peachy, not mentioning what he did. This was the third time Kit had done this and Ty had to admit—he was pissed.

He pondered whether this was just some social tell he didn’t grasp. He thought of asking Julian for help but What does it mean when a person leaves you for three hours only to come back for Netflix and attention? didn’t sound right.

He came to Dru’s door. The last person he’d ask before retreating to his dull and Kit-less room to mess with a rubik’s cube. Everyone else had given him answers ranging from “No” to “No”. They were already sick of it. But Dru, she still gave replies that were longer than one syllable. He knocked.

“Before you say anything, I haven’t seen where the blonde brat went! But I do know that Kit is a jerk”, she yelled from the other side of the door.

Ty felt a spark of protectiveness in the midst of his irritability. For all Kit had done, he deserved to be called a brat and a jerk but Ty couldn’t help but to feel bad.

He backed away from her room. He thought of getting his throwing arm ready to chuck the Rubik’s cube at Kit’s head when he heard a muffled, whiny noise from downstairs.

“Shut up, Dru. I’m going through some things right now. Let me live.”

Ty couldn’t believe it. It was Kit’s voice.

Ty hopped the stairs, two steps at a time. Then, he crept up to where he believed the boy was hiding. He flung open the cupboard. His nose wrinkled at what he was beholding.

There was Kit Herondale, hair unkempt, eyes puffy and glistening, cookie crumbs across his mouth and shirt. He held a family pack of Chips Ahoy close to his chest.

Ty stared for a a good minute then said, “What the hell?”

Kit turned in shame, “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Ty rolled his eyes and gingerly grabbed the cookies from Kit. He held out a hand yet the other boy wasn’t looking.

Ty sighed, “Can you come out now?”

Kit peeked at Ty through his crumby hands. “I’m gay.”

“I meant out of the cupboard. You’ve been in there crying for two days.”

With a mixed expression of shock and disgust, Kit clutched Ty’s hand. Sending electricity through their fingertips as Kit’s feet hit the floor.

Ty went off, “Why would you do something like this? I thought we were friends! Best friends.”

Kit’s eyes were like wet saucers and his his lip quivered frightfully. Suddenly, Kit burst outside, wiping at his eyes, sprinting on the beach.

In that instant, Ty’s anger began to disappitate and what Kit had just said soaked in. A wave of remorse hit him. Kit must’ve thought that Ty hated him! Pressured him to reveal who he was and hated him for being who he was.

He too dashed out. Hoping to catch up with The Lost Herondale before he went too far. Soon Tiberius skid in front of him. Kit tried to escape but he was blocked.

“What do you want? I know you think I’m scum and not just because I’m gay”, he cried. He added in a whisper, “And it’s mostly my fault.”

Ty shook his head vigourosly. “No, no, no. I don’t think you’re scum. I think you’re far from it. Earlier, when I was yelling, I was mad at the fact that you’ve been ignoring me. I didn’t hear the part pertaining to your sexuality. I mean, I heard but I wasn’t listening. I mean, I listened but…”

Kit interrupted and Ty was grateful. “So you don’t hate me. And back in the house, you were talking about something else. I get that but do you accept me?”

There was a longing in his eyes. “Of course I do”, Ty declared without pause.

The boys found themselves strolling along the beach. Gulls screeched to the symphony of waves crashing against shore and the little excited noise Kit made in the back of his throat when salt water sprayed his face.

Ty asked, “Why were you avoiding me?”

Kit pouted, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his gaze at his feet. “A couple days ago, I started to think about Magnus and Alec, Helen and Aline. Gay couples in the shadow world who’ve been through hell at the hands of the Clave. And…I like girls but what if I don’t end up loving one? What if I end up loving a boy? It reminded me of Livvy. We…”

Ty nodded, “I know.”

Frown lines were etched into both of their faces. Kit continued, “And now she’s dead and I couldn’t bring myself to look at you very long.”

Something tugged at Ty’s heart. It pulled so hard as if it wanted his aorta would split like licorice.

Tears built up and choked Christopher. “Because I liked Livvy but I love you. What am I supposed to do with that love? Suffer?”

Ty was aghast. He had just witnessed a boy have a breakdown. Ty was never good at handling emotions, especially his own. He rubbed his own hands for confidence. He used to be able to wind his ﬁngers in sandy blonde hair and gaze into sky-blue irises for reassurance but he wasn’t the one in need at that moment.

Slowly and steadily, he approached Christopher. The Herondale inched away from him with every step as if he were too undigniﬁed to be near him. But Ty spoke softly of a one-sided conversation. About everything he admired about the most mundane shadowhunter he’d ever met.

Soon, Kit found himself backed onto the wall of a boulder but there was no self-loathing in his expression. Just want, a tender mellow. Both of them examined the other with clear vision. Sand, grit, and crumbs were in unusual places, Kit had a tiny seashell stuck on his face, Ty had an lash in his eye. They had never been so close.

Ty cupped the sides of Kit’s ﬂushed cheeks and for a moment their gazes met. Then Ty’s lips were pressed to Kit’s. He could feel his breath hitch in the back of his throat as opened his mouth just a bit more. Enough for Ty to taste the salt from his tears, the sugar from his cookies. Enough for Ty to understand how truly soft and pink his lips were. Enough for Ty to understand that his heart was beating the speed of sound, the roar of the heartbeat thrummed in his ears along with the crash of the waves.

When Ty pulled away he realized that Kit was still spilling tears, except a tentative smile accommodated it.

Kit held Ty’s hand like it was the world. He inquired, “That wasn’t a pity kiss, right?”

Ty shook his head. “Kit, to answer your earlier question, you won’t suffer. We won’t suffer if we don’t let them torture us.”

Kit pecked Ty’s hand. “I am ever grateful for your friendship, Sir Blackthorn. I love you.” He bowed.

Ty raised an eyebrow, “You should work on your Middle English”, nonetheless he settled that it was simply a sweet gesture. He replayed the “I love you” in his head, trying hard not to blush or awkwardly throw his arms around Christopher.

Kit announced loudly, “Thou shan’t insult a Herondale! We are known to smite thee.”

Ty snorted. “By eating thou’s entire stash of sweets?”

“Rude. It’s an affliction. My chocoholic nature is kind of hereditary.”

They boys decided to spend the rest of the afternoon at the beach, something Ty had never really done before. Wading in the water, playing tag, Kit getting in an altercation with a crab until the sky set a tangerine tone.

Watching sundown, something tendered in them. Some unstoppable force brought them hand in hand with a mutual understanding that “best friend” was no longer a suitable title.

They came home to Dru was watching a horror movie on the couch. She looked them over once and said, “You’re welcome.”

Ty asked, “For what?“

“I brought you two together.”

Kit added, “By insulting me.”

Dru showed no sign of guilt. She just smirked and Kit felt an entirely new respect for her…and fear. Who knew what she was capable of?

tl;dr — Dru’s awesome, Kit and Ty are in lOvE, Kit’s out of the closet and into the cupboard

I love ma babes but you should read the whole thing ;)

#kit herondale #kit x ty #ty blackthorn #dru blackthorn #tda #kitty #twp #tsc

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runnerfangirl · 7 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 9088

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV)

Relationship: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Characters: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood, Jace Wayland, Isabelle Lightwood, Luke Garroway, Raphael Santiago

Additional Tags: Episode: s02e17 A Dark Reflection, Blood and Injury, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Making Up, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Possessive Magnus Bane, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: Even though this was no excuse for lying to the Downworld leaders, Alec had always feared that if the Downworld knew about the Soul Sword, they would try and rebel against the Clave. He was aware that if something like that happened, Shadowhunters would get injured along the way; but he had never thought that he would be the one to get hurt.

By Your Side

Alec knew what he was doing was reckless. He knew that the second Izzy and Jace noticed him missing, they’d be tracking him. And after they found Alec walking down the streets of New York, patrolling by himself, they’d pester him non-stop for hours until he apologized.

But his mind was too busy trying to keep the glittery warlock out of his thoughts to dwell on the facts.

He couldn’t care less at the moment, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been on any patrols alone before. The only difference this time was that no one knew where he was going, or even, what he was doing. He’d be fine, though. He had already looked for any demonic activity around the city, he wasn’t going to face with a nest of demons unexpectedly. He would probably turn back to the Institute before his siblings had the time to worry about him, and he could lie and say that he was just taking a walk around.

He didn’t, however, consider some brutal Downworlders attacking him.

When something pulled Alec into the dark alley he was passing, his instant thought was: Demon!

As it scrambled to grab his shoulders, he quickly reached out for the blade strapped to his thigh holster and it activated with a blinding white light in his hands. Seraph blades weren’t Alec’s first choice of weapon, he was more comfortable with the weight of his quiver strapped to his back and his bow in his hands. But they were weapons for long-distance fights, he was depending on his blade for now.

Alec swung his hand back and tried to slash the demon that was pulling him deeper into the alley. He heard someone scream in pain. When he turned to face his attacker, he realized it wasn’t a demon like he had though and the scream belonged to her.

With the seraph blade’s light illuminating her face, a werewolf stood before Alec, clutching her side where the Shadowhunter had managed to wound her while fighting.

“What?” Alec muttered in confusion. The pained expression on the werewolf’s face turned into a snarl and she tried to jump on Alec to bring him down. The Shadowhunter blocked her attack by dodging to his right, trying to decide whether he should use his seraph blade or not.

Alec knew that Shadowhunters had the right to attack the vicious Downworlders when they threatened others, but he still had his doubts. It wasn’t even more than two weeks ago, he was hosting a Downworld Cabinet meeting at the Institute. He was trying to do everything within his power to mend the relationship between the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders. And killing a werewolf right now, no matter what his excuse was, would be another blow to his work. He had already made a mistake by not telling the leaders about the Soul Sword, he couldn’t risk another one.

Deciding to use his blade as the last option, Alec settled on dodging the werewolf’s attacks, ducking and sliding to escape her claws.

Alec had noticed that the girl was not attacking with fatal strikes. She was trying to punch and scratch the Shadowhunter, but even if Alec couldn’t block her hands, she wouldn’t have been able to wound him dramatically. The fighting style made him confused, but he decided to think about that later.

What Alec didn’t notice, however, was that the girl was slowly pushing him further down the alley where it was darker and the air was heavy with the smell of garbage. And when he finally realized how far he had gotten from the entrance of the alley, it was too late for him to run away.

Suddenly, in the midst of their fight, something hit Alec hard on his back and he lost his balance momentarily. His grip on the blade loosened and it dropped to the ground, losing its bright light. Alec lifted his fists in front of his face, ready to fight with anyone who came near him, but no other strike came to his way.

He looked around in confusion, his hands never leaving their defensive stance, and under the faint light of a broken street lamp, Alec finally realized what he had let himself pulled into.

The girl he had been fighting before was standing in front of him, a sly smirk playing on her lips, her eyes locked on Alec with humiliation flaring in them. The one who hit him on his back was another werewolf, and his eyes had the same look. There were four other Downworlders around him, forming a circle while trapping the Shadowhunter in the middle. It took a while for Alec, but when his eyes got used to the dim light, he realized that three of that Downworlders were vampires.

Three werewolves were surrounding him, still in their human forms but with their claws out; and three vampires were standing beside them, glaring at Alec with baring their sharp fangs. They were different people, from different kinds, with different pasts; but in common, they had the same look in their eyes.

The Downworlders were looking at Alec with anger and hatred, as if each and every one of them had a personal vendetta against him. There was also a hint of contempt in their features, like they were laughing at Alec inwardly, a kind of humiliation that a predator would have when it caught its prey.

With a striking realization, the Shadowhunter noticed that he was the prey. And so stupidly, he had gotten himself caught into their trap.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t sure if the Downworlders were going to attack him immediately or talk to him before doing so. His bow was still useless at this point. If they were going to engage into a fight, Alec had to grab his blade back from the ground while trying to avoid their attacks. He had a dagger tucked inside his boot, but it wouldn’t be enough for him to fight back with. So, grabbing his blade was a must. If the situation called for it, Alec could use his bow to block the punches; but it would only serve as a defense and if he wanted to get out of here, he had to attack back.

A small voice, at the back of his mind, was telling him to consider the relationship between Shadowhunters and Downworlders. Alec quieted it quickly. He was sure he could make Luke and Raphael understand. These werewolves and vampires were assaulting a Shadowhunter, even if it was another person they were trapping, Alec wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all.

“Well, well, well,” the werewolf girl started to talk, pulling Alec away from his thoughts. With the way she was carrying herself and speaking with so much confidence, Alec guessed she was the leader of the Downworlders’ small group, or at least the one who gathered them all. “Isn’t this the precious leader of the New York Institute? What are you doing alone at this time of the night, Shadowhunter?”

Alec gritted his teeth. The way she was speaking as if Alec was a child was not helping him to settle down his nerves and contain his anger. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I think you might have an idea on what we want, huh?” She stepped forward, walking around Alec in a smaller circle. The second she moved, Alec decided to run towards the entrance of the alley while she created a gap between the other two vampires standing next to her; but before he could move a muscle, the vampires stepped closer and blocked Alec’s way once again.

“Do you want to kidnap a Shadowhunter? Pull one into a trap, while it’s against the Accords-”

Alec couldn’t let them attack first. He was outnumbered, and if they got the first blow, he might never manage to escape from them. He had to be the first, and use that moment of surprise as he made a dash.

“No… No, of course not. How dare we go against the Accords?” With sarcasm filling her voice, she let out a snicker. “We just simply want to show the Clave how tired we are of their lies. They keep deceiving us, making promises that they do not intent to keep. And you’re talking about breaking the Accords? When has the Accords ever been useful to us?!”

“Look,” Alec started, trying to reason with her. “I know the Clave haven’t been equal or transparent to the Downworlders, but you can’t blame their faults on all the other Shadowhunters. That’s what I’m trying to change. Even if the Clave is not willing to approve it, I, for one, try to fix our bonds with the Downworlders; because the war is coming, and the only way we could win is to be on the same side.”

“Huh,” The werewolf stopped in front of Alec, looking at him with an accusing glare. “You’re one to talk! Aren’t you the one who lied about the Soul Sword? It has been in the possession of Valentine all along, and you couldn’t even bother to tell the Downworld about it. How dare you speak about transparency or fixing the bonds between us?! It doesn’t matter who you are, the Head of the Institute or the madman who is trying to kill us all, Shadowhunters are all the same.”

“What? No. I’m not Valentine, and neither am I your enemy.” Alec heard the werewolves growl and the vampires snarl at his words. He inhaled a deep breath, he had to choose his words carefully. “Look, I had just learnt about the Soul Sword before Luke Garroway knew about it. I was going to tell your leaders about the Sword, and I was planning to hold another meeting; but they just found out before I could. I wasn’t lying to anyone, I was just waiting for the time to tell-”

“The time? You were waiting for the time? What made you think that you had any time to tell us about the Soul Sword before Valentine killed us all?”

“Valentine cannot kill any Downworlder with the Soul Sword.” Alec could tell that the werewolf’s patience was coming to an end, he had to act fast. “Clary Fairchild deactivated it before Valentine could get-”

“Enough!” The girl dashed towards Alec, and the Shadowhunter could only dodge her with a spare second. “The Shadowhunters keep lying, and they will never stop lying! You are all the same!” She flung her hand through air to claw at Alec’s chest, as he took a step back to avoid being hit. “It was all your fault, anyways! If you could actually manage one thing and prevent Valentine’s escape from your Institute, he would have never got to be a threat again! Downworlders keep dying because of Shadowhunters,” She glared at Alec, and her voice turned into a deathly growl as she continued. “Now, it’s time for Shadowhunters to die for Downworlders!”

As the six Downworlders jumped on the Shadowhunter in a race to get to kill him first, Alec threw himself to the floor and rolled over to get to the blade he had dropped before. Once in his hands, the blade shined brighter with white light, causing the vampires to take a few steps back while shutting their eyes. Alec used this moment to stab the one closest to him, and the second he ran the blade through the vampire’s chest, he burst into flames and turned to ash. The other vampires let out a shriek and jumped on Alec, not caring anymore if the blade’s light was hurting their eyes.

Soon, Alec couldn’t even figure out who he was fighting against. He was acting on his instincts, kicking the ones that got too close to him, swinging his blade around to slash their arms and chests. He knew he had killed another vampire at one point, because after he got to cut someone’s abdomen, they turned to ash. He had also slashed a werewolf’s thigh and it was enough to keep him out of the fight for a while; but as soon as he healed, Alec was again fighting with three werewolves and a vampire.

He had gotten a few wounds, too. There were scratches along his forearms, chest and back, but none of them was serious enough to restrain him from fighting. He was getting tired, though. He was all alone fighting against four Downworlders, who were actually good at fighting, and it wasn’t an easy task to handle. He knew his Iratze had already burned out while healing the cuts he had received, and his speed and stamina runes were slowly fading because of exerting his body. For a small second, Alec regretted not telling Izzy or Jace where he was going, but he quickly pushed the thought away. He had already done this mistake, it wasn’t the time to think about it.

When she got too close to him, Alec kicked the leader werewolf’s shins, causing her to fall down in front of the Shadowhunter. The second her knees hit the ground, Alec didn’t even think about it before he thrust the blade through her chest. He pulled his hand back and the werewolf’s lifeless body fell onto the ground.

Alec heard a cry of agony behind him and before he could turn back, something collided with his back, pushing him face down to the dirty floor. The sounds of bones shifting inside the body was the only warning Alec got before the werewolf fully turned into his wolf form and his long claws sank into Alec’s flesh.

The Shadowhunter let out a scream when the white hot pain flared up on his shoulders, radiating to the rest of his body. He sucked in a deep breath to restrain himself from letting another cry out, and when the werewolf’s claws finally left his body, he used his few precious seconds to turn around on the ground and throw the wolf away from his body. His hands scrambled on the floor to grab a hold of his blade which he had dropped when he had fallen down, but before his fingers came anywhere close to the hilt of the blade, the last vampire was pinning his body to the ground.

Alec gritted his teeth as the pressure on the claw marks increased and his skin burned with pain. The vampire was pushing him down by his shoulders, sitting on the lower half of his body to keep him immobile. With a smirk on her lips, the vampire leaned closer to Alec’s neck, ready to sink her fangs into his delicate skin. The Shadowhunter tried to move around, to shake the vampire off of his body, but it was in vain. His body was too tired to fight back with enough power, and he was feeling dizzy because of hitting his head to the floor repeatedly.

With on last attempt, Alec tried to move his hands to reach to the dagger in his boot or to grab the seraph blade that was laying a foot away next to him, but he still couldn’t move an inch. He felt the vampire’s fangs graze his skin and Alec shut his eyes tightly, his body going limp as he accepted his fate.

Alec didn’t know what he was expecting, but at the brink of death, he didn’t see the faces of the ones he loved, like other people described it. Instead, it was the mistakes he had made that he saw, making him fear death because he wouldn’t have any more time to fix them.

His parents’ disappointed looks appeared before his closed eyelids. The angry glares he had gotten through his life when he didn’t train enough, when he couldn’t shoot his arrows properly, when he failed to run the Institute, when he kissed that warlock in his wedding to another person and disgraced their family name.

Then, Clary’s tear-stained face took their place, when she was crying her eyes out at her mother’s funeral. And Alec couldn’t do anything to fix his mistake, because Jocelyn was dead, and even when they visited Iris Rouse, Alec hadn’t been able to protect Clary. Images flashed in between the memory of the funeral: Alec sitting on the ground with Jocelyn’s blood coating his hands, her blood soaking his clothes, Clary’s face when she saw her mother lying lifelessly on the floor with a hole through her chest…

And then, there was Magnus.

Appearing before his eyes was the memory of Magnus when Alec asked him how to fix this, and he just shook his head in acceptance. Because Alec had hurt him more than anyone can imagine, and there was nothing he could do to fix this.

And after that, the look on Magnus’ face when he confronted Alec about the Soul Sword. Hurt and disappointment flashing through his eyes before rage repressed his feelings and Magnus’ beautiful eyes suddenly turned cold. Weeks after the incident with Azazel, they were finally building back the trust between them; but because of Alec, it had crumbled before even settling on a firm ground. Alec could pinpoint the exact second Magnus started to rebuild the stone walls around his heart, the exact walls the Shadowhunter had managed to sneak his way through once upon a time. But this time, Alec knew they were guarded better; because after a century of protecting his heart from any heartbreak, Alec managed to lower Magnus’ guards, only to leave him heartbroken at the end.

It was probably the biggest mistake Alec had ever made in his life. After Magnus had made him so, so happy, he only caused him sadness and pain. And now, Alec was going to die in the hands of a few brutal Downworlders without being given the chance to fix his mistakes.

Alec had heard the rumors that after getting used to it, getting bitten by a vampire was actually a pleasurable thing. But when the vampire that was biting you was probably planning hundred different ways to kill you with making you suffer, it was anything but pleasurable.

The Shadowhunter let out a deafening scream when the vampire sank her fangs into his neck. His limp body started to struggle under her grip once again, but it only caused the vampire’s sharp teeth pierce his skin more and he felt hot blood drip from his neck to the ground steadily.

It wasn’t long before Alec was feeling dizzier than ever and white spots were appearing behind his eyelids. His body was slowly draining from energy along with blood, his last will to fight back dissolving in the back of his mind. He knew that if the vampire decided to stab him right then and there, he wouldn’t be able to fight back. If one of the werewolves tried to attack him while he was pinned under the vampire, he wouldn’t be able to block any of their blows.

He was dying, he had accepted it. But there were still so much he had to do, so many mistakes to fix…

The crack of a familiar whip caused Alec to open his eyes. (Which wasn’t really helpful since his vision was blurry, anyways.) But at least, his hearing was better than the mess of colors he was seeing.

“Alec!” He heard someone shout, and the second the voice echoed in his ears the Shadowhunter recognized his parabatai. Izzy’s whip crackled again, and in an instant, the vampire was no longer sitting on him. However, since his sister had pushed the vampire off of him while her fangs were still deep in his neck, it caused the vampire to tear the muscle of his neck with her teeth and Alec couldn’t help the cry of pain leaving his mouth. Blood was now flowing out from his wounds, which was something he dismissed as he tried to stand up to help his siblings fight; but he couldn’t move any of his limbs, he couldn’t even turn his head to the side without shouting in pain.

Alec lost the track of time. His siblings’ shouts were mixing with the sound of fighting and he could hear a constant buzzing in his head. His vision was no better, and if anything, it seemed like it was getting even blurrier with more white spots appearing in it.

Then suddenly, there was silence.

The only think that could be heard in the dark alley was painful wheezing and Alec wasn’t aware that the sound was coming from him. His ears were ringing, and his eyes weren’t seeing even if they were open. He didn’t notice when Izzy and Jace rushed to his side and kneeled beside him. He didn’t feel the burn of runes when they activated them on his body, drawing some new ones. He didn’t hear their frantic voices as they assured Alec that he was going to be fine, that everything was going to be okay.

His senses were dulled. He was barely conscious. He felt like he was dying, and maybe he was.

Alec’s head lolled to the side and darkness pulled him under.

“Jace! The runes are not working fast enough,” shouted Isabelle to her adopted brother. “We have to get him to the Institute, now! Or he’ll lose too much blood.”

“I know, I know…” Jace mumbled back, hundreds of thoughts swirling around in his head. His hand was shaking while drawing runes on Alec’s body. He was thinking of ways to carry him back to the Institute when the idea struck him.

“Clary!” He shouted to the girl who had been standing behind Izzy and Jace to give them enough space to heal Alec. “Do you think you can use that portal rune again?”

He turned his head to the red-haired girl for only a second, but it was enough for him to see her doubt. “I-I..” Clary looked at Alec’s pale face before she nodded her head stubbornly. “Yes.”

“Hurry!” Izzy shouted back and let out a frustrated cry when the newly drawn Iratze on Alec’s forearm disappeared in seconds. “The runes are not working. Jace! Why aren’t the runes working?!”

“I’m not sure, Izzy,” Jace replied back. “Maybe the wound on his back is too deep to heal with only runes.”

They hadn’t dared to move Alec’s body, fearing that it would accelerate his blood loss, thus Jace haven’t seen his back yet. But if the pool of blood around him was anything to go by, he would say that they didn’t have much more time to save their brother.

“The portal is open, come on!” The second Jace heard Clary shout, he and Izzy kneeled down to the either side of Alec and grabbed his shoulders to carry him through the portal. They half carried, half dragged him towards the portal, and Jace thought of the Institute’s infirmary before he stepped in.

“We need medics!” Isabelle’s voice echoed through the room and down the hall as they placed Alec on one of the beds. Jace cut his shirt down the middle to pull it off and exposed Alec’s chest. It didn’t seem like he had any critical wounds on his torso. The blonde Shadowhunter decided to deal with the smaller cuts later, and turned his parabatai’s body around the bed to lay him down on his stomach.

He sucked in a sharp breath and somewhere in the infirmary, he heard Izzy gasp in terror.

The wounds seemed to be the worst ones Alec had ever got through his life. Six parallel, deep cuts were covering his whole back, starting from his shoulders, down to his hips. Blood was coating every inch of his skin and was still flowing out from the wounds swiftly. Where visible, Jace could see Alec’s skin turning even paler, almost matching with the color of pure-white sheets on the bed.

“We…” Jace swallowed to get rid of the lump in his throat. “We have to be quick, Izzy.”

“Yeah, okay,” she replied in a small voice, and in seconds, she was on the other side of Alec’s bed. The girl grabbed a clean cloth and a bowl of water, and reached them out to Jace, who instantly started to clean his brother’s back.

His world turned into a mess of colors as he focused on the wounds on Alec’s back. He could hear Izzy shouting orders to the medics, but it felt like cotton was stuffed into his ears. Everything he was hearing was muffled, he couldn’t concentrate on them.

His brother, his parabatai was lying before him at the brink of death. Even though he had been feeling Alec’s pain through their bond before, now the bond was just numb, and it was scaring him more than pain he had felt. He could almost feel Alec slipping away, their bond getting weaker and weaker as the seconds passed. Jace didn’t know what he would do if it finally snapped, if he lost the other half of his soul, if a part of him died.

When the medics left Alec’s side and silence filled the whole room, Jace was still kneeling beside the bed, his parabatai’s hand clutched tightly in his. He slowly lifted his gaze from Alec’s back which was covered in bandages, and turned to Isabelle who was still at the other side of the bed. Jace was aware of the unspoken fact and he knew Izzy was, too. Alec’s condition was no better than the time they had brought him to the Institute. The runes were not helping enough to heal such a fatal wound after that much blood loss, but they didn’t know what else to do. They could have asked for help from the Silent Brothers, but not even they would be fast enough to heal Alec in time. There was only one option left for them to try.

“Izzy,” Jace called out with a hoarse voice. The girl raised her head to look at him, blinking away the tears in her eyes. “We need to call Magnus.”

Isabelle turned her gaze back to her brother and exhaled a shaky breath. “Alec will be so pissed when he learns we called him.”

Both of them knew that the things between Magnus and Alec were shaky after the Soul Sword, and the Shadowhunter was so carefully trying to avoid the warlock, scared that it would make him more annoyed. Also, the relationship between them and the Downworlders were hanging on a thin rope, so maybe asking for help wasn’t the best decision they had. But Jace couldn’t care less about the politics. He’d go through the hell and back if it would save his parabatai.

“He could be pissed all he wants if he… when he survives this.”

Isabelle gave him a sharp nod and looked straight into his eyes. “Call him.”

Magnus was just back from another meeting in the Seelie Court when his phone rang. He accepted the call without checking the ID and hoped that his voice didn’t give away how tired he was.

“Hello?”

“Magnus, it’s Jace.” Magnus grimaced as soon as he heard his voice. He really didn’t want to deal with Shadowhunters right now.

“What do you want?” The warlock’s voice quickly turned into a grunt.

“We-We need you. You have to come to the Institute.”

“I have to? And who are you to tell me what I am going to do-”

“It’s Alec!” The second Jace shouted through the phone, Magnus felt his stone-cold mask crumble.

“What?” He whispered in disbelief. “What happened? Is he okay-”

Without even seeing him, the warlock knew that Jace was rolling his eyes. “He is not, Magnus, and you are the only one who can help him. Now, are you coming or not?”

Magnus flicked his wrist and summoned a portal in the middle of his bedroom. “I’m on my way.”

“Be quick.” There was a little pause and Magnus heard Jace talking to someone before he continued. “And you know what, bring Luke and Raphael with you.”

“Why-” The Shadowhunter hung up the phone in the middle of his question, causing Magnus to huff in annoyance. He quickly sent a text to Luke and Raphael to inform them about meeting at the Institute and stepped into the portal.

When Magnus appeared in front of the steps of the old church, Raphael was already waiting for him. He raised his eyebrow in a silent question, but the vampire only shrugged as an answer. He guessed it had something to do with vampire speed.

It wasn’t long before Luke joined them, too, and a few seconds later the doors burst open as Isabelle Lightwood came into their views. She only nodded at them as a greeting, then she grabbed Magnus’ arm, dragging him behind her into the Institute. “Come on, we have to hurry.”

From the corner of his eye, Magnus saw Luke and Raphael give each other confused glances and he was ready to ask Isabelle what the hell was going on. But then, they entered to the infirmary, and Magnus felt like the air was sucked out of the room.

Right in front of him was the love of his life, lying on a bed with the sheets turned into deep crimson. He was on his stomach, but even from the spot he stood, Magnus could see him taking in ragged breaths. His whole back was covered in bandages which were dark red instead of white because of the blood soaking them. He had at least a dozen of healing runes drawn on his skin, but from the look of it, Magnus guessed that they weren’t working.

“Oh, Alexander…” The warlock whispered, and he wasn’t surprised to find tears burning his eyes. In two long strides, he was standing next to Jace beside the bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but he let out a shaky breath instead of words.

“What happened to him?” He heard Luke ask the question bugging everyone’s minds.

“We’re not entirely sure,” Izzy spoke. Jace seemed to be not aware of their presence. “We didn’t know Alec was out by himself, until Jace doubled over in pain. After we tracked his rune, we found him deep in an alley, fighting with… Downworlders.”

“What? You’re saying that Downworlders did that to-”

Magnus caused Luke to stop in the middle of his sentence by slowly peeling off the bandages across Alec’s back. Even with the blood smeared around him, six claw marks were standing on his pale skin, plain as day. Silence fell over the room as Magnus continued to lift the bandages off from the Shadowhunter’s skin and exposed his wounds fully.

“Werewolves?” whispered Magnus out, but he barely registered Jace’s nod next to him.

“Luke,” called out Izzy. “We were wondering if there is a chance that… that he would turn into a werewolf?”

Luke thought about it without lifting his eyes from the claw marks. “Was he bitten?”

“No,” Jace answered for the first time that day, anger coating his every word. “Not by a werewolf.”

Magnus threw a confused glance to his way. “What do you mean ‘not by a werewolf’?”

Instead of a verbal answer, Jace stood up from where he was sitting and walked to the other side of the bed. Magnus noticed him looking at Alec with eyes full of sorrow, before his hand reached out to his parabatai’s neck and took off the bandage wrapped to the side of his neck.

“Vampires…” Raphael snarled, voicing out what Magnus was afraid to think of.

Another wave of silence filled the room. Luke broke it by answering the previous question. “No, he won’t turn into a werewolf if he’s not bitten by one.”

Izzy nodded at Luke, sighing in relief before she turned to Magnus. “We tried every kind of healing rune, but they are not working fast enough. You have to heal him, Magnus, please.”

The warlock sniffled and wiped the tears that were falling down his cheeks with the back of his hand. He nodded firmly, pushing the sleeves of his shirt back, getting ready to summon his magic.

Magnus wasn’t going to give up on Alec, right now. He couldn’t give up on Alec, not now, not ever. Especially not when their last encounter was a fight where Magnus accused Alec for not being honest and acting like his parent, while he was nothing like Maryse or Robert.

If he had a wild guess, Magnus would say that the werewolves and vampires attacked his Shadowhunter because of the Soul Sword. The secret was out now, and everybody from the Downworld knew how Clave lied to them once again. Magnus had heard the rumors where people said that some brutal Downworlders were trying to rebel against the Clave, but the warlock have always heard these kind of rumors through his life. He had never thought that it would come to this. He could have never guessed that the rumors will come true, and they would attack a Shadowhunter, the Head of the Institute, his boyfriend.

He might have had a fight with Alec, but Magnus was nowhere near ready to leave him. He just needed some time to deal with his feeling and calm his anger before they tried to build their trust back. Alec was still his, and whoever made this to him will wish they hadn’t even dared to glance at Alec.

The Shadowhunter let out a shout, and suddenly his back arched from the bed as Magnus’ magic covered his wounds. The warlock gritted his teeth and tried to see past his emotions to focus on his job and heal Alec. With every cry of pain Alec was letting out, his heart was breaking more and more, and the anger he felt was increasing; but it wasn’t only directed to the Downworlders who attacked his lover. It was also directed to himself because even though it wasn’t anything physical, Magnus had hurt Alec as much as they did when he had thrown snide comments at him about the Soul Sword; and this was what Alec had feared all along: Downworlders causing an uprising, attacking without thinking, killing Shadowhunters for revenge at the verge of a war.

Magnus pushed the thought away as he poured his magic into Alec’s wounds. Thinking was only serving as a distraction, and he couldn’t risk being distracted. Slowly, the skin on Alec’s back started to knit itself back together. Magnus shut his eyes tightly as his hands started to tremble, but he couldn’t stop. Alec was still in danger, and he wouldn’t stop until he was stable.

When Magnus finished, there were six long and thick scars across Alec’s back. His skin was slowly gaining back its color, and the raised skin of scars was turning pink instead of pale white. Alec’s breathing was obviously more regular now, and he had fallen silent as soon as Magnus cut off his magic.

Cautiously, the warlock walked around the bed, as if Alec would wake up the second someone broke the silence in the room. He kneeled at the foot of the bed, near the Shadowhunter’s head. He raised a trembling head up to Alec’s face and so softly, he rested his palm against the boy’s cheek.

“My Alexander,” he whispered, his voice only loud enough for Alec’s ears. “What had happened to you?” He peeled off the rest of the bandage around his throat. With a snap of his fingers, Magnus made blue magic appear in his palm, shining sparks twirling between his fingers. He let his magic heal Alec’s body, knitting the skin where the vampire’s fangs tore the muscle.

After Magnus finished healing Alec’s neck too, he snapped his fingers once again and both Alec’s body and the sheets beneath him were clean of blood. He was about to take a deep breath since the Shadowhunter was now fully healed, but then, the newly soaked crimson sheets caught his eyes. The warlock’s head snapped towards the other two Shadowhunters in the room, disbelief and horror written in his eyes.

“Does he have more wounds?!”

As Isabelle dropped her head low, staring at the floor, Jace nodded and walked beside Magnus. Gently, he grabbed Alec’s shoulders and turned him around the bed to lay him on his back. As soon as Magnus’ eyes landed on the cuts peppering Alec’s torso, a possessive growl escaped his lips involuntarily.

“I am going to kill whoever did this to my Shadowhunter.”

“You can’t,” the warlock heard Jace say, and turned to look at him with anger blazing in his eyes.

“What do you mean I can’t? If this is one of your stupid laws, I swear-”

“It’s not the laws, Magnus,” said Isabelle, and Magnus only recognized her presence when she squeezed his shoulder in comfort. “They’re already dead.”

Magnus was angry beyond imagination, and he had plenty reasons to be so. He was angry at himself because he had hurt Alec so much, and if he… if he hadn’t survived, the Shadowhunter would have died thinking Magnus was hating him for lying. He was angry at the Downworlders for daring to lay a finger on his Alexander. He was angry at Isabelle and Jace for killing those Downworlders, because at the moment, it felt like making them regret their every single action was the only way for Magnus to get his frustration out.

He clenched his teeth and summoned his magic for the umpteenth time that night to heal Alexander, using the last bit of his energy to clean his cuts and scrapes, and knit the skin back together.

Magnus was swaying on his feet when he was done, and it looked like he was the only one who wasn’t aware of his condition. Before he could collapse to the floor from exhaustion, Isabelle pulled a chair next to Alec’s bed and helped him sit without falling. Since his magic was depleted, Magnus settled in grabbing a clean cloth to wipe the blood off of the boy’s torso, gently running the fabric around his newly-healed cuts.

“Try using the runes, now,” he said with a sleepy voice and in an instant, the two siblings were standing next to the bed, pulling out their steles.

He wasn’t aware how much time passed, but when his eyes finally left Alec’s body to look around the room, he was surprised not to see Luke and Raphael there. Jace and Isabelle were sitting on the other side of the bed, never leaving their brother as he recovered. Magnus raised an eyebrow in question and tilted his head to the side where the other Downworld leaders had been standing.

“The sun is about to rise, so Raphael left, and Luke said they will come back again when Alec wakes up.”

The warlock only nodded weakly and reached out to grab Alec’s hand in his. He brought their intertwined fingers to his mouth and gingerly placed kisses to the boy’s knuckles, murmuring a healing incantation against the scrapes on the back of his hand. As exhaustion slowly caught up with him, Magnus’ eyes started to drop and he placed his head on the pillow, right next to Alec’s. He tilted his head slightly and left a chaste kiss to the boy’s cheek. His eyes closed and Magnus dozed off to sleep, hoping Alec would open his beautiful hazel eyes when he woke up.

When Alec opened his eyes, he was sure he had died. Of course, being in the Institute’s infirmary with some medics running around would be a good explanation that he wasn’t actually dead, but he wasn’t focusing on those facts. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the beautiful man sitting next to his bed on an uncomfortable looking chair, fully concentrating on a book he was reading with a furrow on his face. Alec was pretty sure that after their last encounter, he wanted nothing to do with the Shadowhunter. So, he couldn’t think of any reason why the warlock would be sitting in the infirmary with him, unless he was dead.

“Mags?” Alec whispered out and hoped his voice was loud enough for him to hear. Thankfully, Magnus’ head snapped up the second Alec said his name and in seconds, his book was thrown somewhere across the room and the warlock was now standing beside the bed, looking over Alec’s body for any kind of injury.

“Yes, darling?” Alec ignored the painful pang in his chest when he heard the endearment.

“Why are you here?” For a millisecond, hurt crossed over Magnus’ face, but he quickly concealed it with a sad smile.

“Well, it seemed like you couldn’t even wait for a week without me having to save your perfect ass.”

“Oh,” was the only thing Alec could let out before memories rushed into his brain. “I… Uh…” He tried to sit on the bed, but was immediately stopped by Magnus’ hands on his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You have serious injuries on your back.” Magnus voice was soft, but full with concern. He only pulled his hands back when Alec nodded in understanding.

“I’m sorry if… if I caused you any trouble. Izzy and Jace shouldn’t have called you.”

“Alexander,” said Magnus in surprise, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about? You were this close to dying. How could I even ignore helping you?”

Alec shrugged, but instantly regretted the motion when it caused a burning sensation to spread down his shoulders. “Still… We shouldn’t have kept you from your work. I’m pretty sure you don’t-”

His words got cut off by Izzy barging into the infirmary with Jace quickly following after her step.

“Alec!” she shouted and threw herself to hug Alec. The hazel-eyed Shadowhunter swallowed his grunt of pain and hugged his sister back, even though just moving his hands were hurting his body all over.

“I’m alright, Izzy.” He patted her back in what he hoped to be a soothing manner.

“No, you’re not! I almost lost you, big brother. Do you even know how scared I was?”

He smiled sadly against her raven hair. “I’m sorry.”

When Izzy pulled back, Alec tried to get his body ready for another round of hug, but thankfully, Jace seemed to be aware that it was only hurting him more. His parabatai settled in squeezing his hand with a gentle grip and Alec could feel the relief flooding in Jace through their bond.

“I know you probably need to rest,” said Jace with uncertainty coating his voice. “And it is totally fine if you need to sleep. It’s just… Raphael and Luke are here to hear what had happened, so they can talk to their vampire clan and werewolf pack about it.”

“It’s fine, they can come. Just bring me a clean shirt and help me sit before, though.”

“Sure.” Jace moved to get a shirt from Alec’s room, but he was stopped by Magnus’ voice.

“I can handle it.” With a snap of fingers, a navy blue shirt appeared on the boy’s naked chest, hiding the bandages wrapped around his torso. Then, Isabelle stepped closer to his bed and helped Magnus as they lifted Alec’s back on the bed, putting him into a sitting position and fluffing the pillows behind his back.

“Thanks,” muttered Alec and sent a small smile to Magnus, still unsure how he should act around the warlock. It seemed like there were a lot of things Magnus wanted to say, but before he could even open his mouth, Luke and Raphael appeared at the infirmary’s door.

“Hey, how are you feeling, Alec?” asked Luke the second he saw Alec awake.

“I’m fine, thanks.” He tried to smile but even that seemed to hurt his muscles.

Raphael gave him a small nod as greeting, which Alec would have returned if it wasn’t for the bandage covering half of his neck. He tried to shake away the memories of how it had happened. “Did the werewolves and vampires do this to you?”

“Yeah, uh…” Unconsciously, Alec turned his gaze away from them. “Three werewolves and three vampires. A werewolf girl was the leader of them, I guess. She did most of the talking.”

“What talking?” Magnus inquired, still sitting next to his bed. Alec’s eyes turned to the warlock the second the words escaped his lips.

“That’s not really important. It’s just that they are really, really furious about Clave lying about the Soul Sword and want revenge from Shadowhunters. She said it’s time for… for Shadowhunters to die for Downworlders.”

Alec heard Isabelle gasp from across the room. “Oh, Angel…”

“Look,” The hazel-eyed Shadowhunter turned back to Luke and Raphael, hoping his voice would come out as firm as he wanted. He had to keep his authority as the Head of the Institute, injured or not. “I don’t know if they were from your werewolf pack or vampire clan, but you have to talk to your people. I can’t let any Shadowhunter die in the hands of some wild Downworlders, and if they keep hunting us, it will lead to a war along with the one we’re already fighting against Valentine.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Luke’s voice was certain, unwavering. “I’ll make sure no one tries to lay a finger on any Shadowhunter.”

“I’ll speak with the vampires,” added Raphael. “They wouldn’t dare to do such thing again.”

Alec let out a sigh in relief. “Thank you.” The Downworlders both nodded, and in seconds, they were gone. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping it would dull the ache in his body. (He was disappointed when it didn’t.)

“Does anyone from the Institute know what happened?” he asked, turning to look at Izzy and Jace.

“No,” answered his sister. “The medics probably assumed it was a demon attack and told the others so.”

Jace’s curious voice continued. “Are you going to tell them?”

“I don’t know,” murmured Alec.

“What?” The Shadowhunter grimaced when Jace’s voice came out too loud for his ears. The blond boy seemed to notice his mistake and looked at him in apology before he continued. “What do you mean you don’t know? The Shadowhunters should be ready for any kind of attack, Alec. You know that.”

“Of course, I know that. But I also know that if people learn about this,” He vaguely gestured his body with a wave of his hand. “Some Shadowhunters will start to kill innocent Downworlders and use it as an excuse. I can’t allow that, either.”

Jace let out a long breath and his shoulders sagged. “I know,” he admitted.

Silence covered the room and it was probably an uncomfortable one, but Alec was too tired to notice that. His eyes started to drop no matter how hard he tried to keep them open and his head tilted back.

“Hey,” Alec heard someone whisper. When he opened his eyes, he was looking into a pair of cat-like ones. “Let’s get you comfortable to sleep, hmm?”

“Mags,” the Shadowhunter whispered. He had totally forgotten that the warlock was in the infirmary. Alec realized that his siblings had left the room at some point. Suddenly, he felt like any trace of sleep had left his body. He pushed Magnus’ hands away when he tried to lay him down. “No, no… We have to talk… I think?”

“We can talk after you rest, Alexander.”

Stubbornly, Alec shook his head, trying to keep his face calm when the motion burned the side of his throat. “I missed it.”

“Missed what?” Magnus threw him a confused look.

“I missed you calling me Alexander. I missed talking to you, seeing you, kissing you. I missed hearing your voice. I missed you.” Alec placed a gentle hand against Magnus’ cheek, his thumb caressing the side of his eyes. “I even missed your pretty cat eyes.”

The warlock looked taken aback for a moment, as if he wasn’t aware of his unglamoured eyes. Then, a sad smile appeared on his lips. “I missed you, too, darling.”

“I’m sorry.” Alec’s hand dropped and his gaze turned away from Magnus, regret filling his eyes. “I know I should have told you about the Soul Sword, and I swear to the Angel, I was going to tell you. But it’s just-”

“Alexander…”

“I know this is not an excuse, but everything was becoming too much, and-”

“Alec.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you, but I was thinking of a way. Maybe hosting another Cabinet meeting or-”

“Darling!” Alec’s mouth snapped shut and he turned back to Magnus with wide eyes. “It’s okay, Alexander,” he continued with a soft voice. And Alec felt like he didn’t deserve Magnus’ forgiveness. What he did was wrong, terrible, irreversible… How could Magnus just forget about that and accept him back?

“No, it’s not, Magnus. I should-”

“Shh,” The warlock placed his finger in front of Alec’s lips, effectively quietening him. The Shadowhunter couldn’t help the fond smile appearing on his lips at the familiar gesture. “Listen to me without interrupting, okay?” Alec gave him a light nod.

“What you did was wrong, and we both know that. You should have told me about the Soul Sword sooner, yes.” Magnus’ eyes softened and he placed his hand against Alec’s cheek. “But it was just a mistake, and everyone make mistakes, Alexander. We shouldn’t have avoided it like we did. Instead, we should talk it through and learn from our mistakes to build our relationship on a firmer ground, yeah? You are allowed to make mistakes, darling. Don’t ever forget that. You’re still so young, but look at all the responsibilities you are carrying. You’re running the whole Institute by yourself, protecting your siblings, keeping up to strengthen the relationship between the Downworld and the Shadowhunters…

“And while you were carrying so much weight on your shoulders, I haven’t been fair to you. While I was questioning your trust for me, I didn’t trust you myself, not as your boyfriend nor as the representative of warlocks. And I’m so, so sorry for that, dear. I shouldn’t have let my anger get better of me, I should have thought before speaking. I hurt you as much as you did hurt me, and I have made my mistakes as much as you did yours. We are both to blame, but we can talk through it now… if you still want to.”

“Of course… Of course, I do.” Alec seemed hopeful and insecure at the same time. “But-But you told me that you counted on my honesty, and now, I just-”

“And now,” whispered Magnus. He brought his other hand to the other side of Alec’s face, cradling his cheeks inside his palms, resting his forehead against the Shadowhunter’s. “I know I can count on it more than ever, yeah?”

Alec’s eyes fluttered closed as Magnus’ breath ghosted over his face and he let a lopsided smile make appearance on his face. “Yeah,” he breathed out, and before Alec knew it, Magnus was kissing him right on his lips.

The kiss was short due to the injuries Alec got all over his body, but it was soft, warm and full with love; and Alec felt like he was finally at peace for the first time in weeks. There was no movement, no teeth or tongue involved, just press of lips against each other, and it was enough for both of them to melt into it.

When they parted Alec kept his eyes closed and let out a heavy sigh, as if the burden of the past days left his shoulders and he could breathe easier now. Without thinking the Shadowhunter shifted in the bed, ignoring Magnus’ protests, and lay down when there was enough space for the warlock.

“Do you think both of us can fit into this bed?”

“Well,” answered Magnus with a light grin. “We can find out, right now, darling. Can’t we?”

Gently, he moved to lie down next to Alec, bypassing the chance to tease the Shadowhunter about his flushed cheeks. When half of Magnus’ body didn’t fit into the bed and threatened him to fall right onto the floor, he snuggled closer to the Shadowhunter, letting him lie against his chest. Alec let out a grunt of pain when his sore back made contact with Magnus’ chest, but he shushed the warlock before he could let out an apology.

“It’s fine, Magnus. I’m fine. You healed me.” The Shadowhunter felt more then saw Magnus hesitantly nod. Before any of them could doze off into a peaceful sleep, Alec blurted out a question without thinking. It seemed like being attacked by Downworlders combined with fatigue threw your brain-to-mouth filter out of the window.

“These are going to leave ugly scars, aren’t they?”

It wasn’t like Shadowhunters were not used to have scars on their body. Everyone had them from fights, from battles, even from the runes. Sometimes, if the cuts and scrapes were healed quickly, there was a chance that they wouldn’t leave any scars behind; but with cuts that deep, Alec guessed he would have to live with six long lines across his back.

The Shadowhunter couldn’t repress the gasp of surprise leaving his lips when suddenly, he found himself eye-to-eye with the beautiful warlock lying behind him. Magnus had gripped Alec’s jaw gently to turn his head to himself and straightened in the bed slightly. His eyes were full with adoration and determination as he looked into the hazel irises right in front of him.

“No, Alexander. They are going to leave scars, but there’s nothing ugly about you.”

Alec let out a shaky breath and blinked rapidly when he felt tears burning the back of his eyes. “Magnus…” The words left his mind and the name of his boyfriend was the only thing he could let out. Magnus smiled softly at him and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. Then, he lay back onto the pillows, pulling Alec down with him.

“Sleep, now, angel.” Magnus nuzzled his nose into Alec’s jet-black locks. “You need to rest.”

“Stay?” asked the Shadowhunter with a whisper. He lifted his hand to intertwine his fingers with Magnus’ and rested their hands on his chest. He felt the warlock leave a kiss on his head and murmur against his hair before he fell into a peaceful sleep.

“Always, Alexander. I’ll always stay by your side.”

#malec #fanfic #fanfiction #fanwork #malec fanfiction #malec fic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #angst #angst with a happy ending #injury #hurt!alec #possessive!magnus #shadowhunters #shadowhunters tv #tv!verse #my writing

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malecsecretsanta · 7 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @bloodspeckledraphael!

for @bloodspeckledraphael, because while lovely, that was an improbably chaste tag scene at the end of season 2, wasn't it? (Takes place immediately after s02e20; #NSFW.)

Read on AO3

*****

Around the Sun

Alec couldn't stop smiling. Not that there was any reason to try; it was just the two of them, at last, side-by-side, step-by-step, until it sounded like only one person walking down the street. Their boots hit the concrete at the same time as they moved until a slight syncopation, an almost stutter in Magnus' pace at the corner, like he wasn't sure which way they were going to turn.

As if there was any question.

Alec stepped sideways, leading just a little, heading towards the loft until the soft pressure of Magnus' hand fell away from the small of his back. He felt cold for just a breath, despite the weight of his coat, but it was worth it, worth it to finally be where he belonged. "Let's go home."

He had to stop as Magnus smiled at him, the ache in his chest rising up through his throat, the burn in his eyes too much. It hurt a little, every time, how surprised Magnus looked, soft and delighted but still almost doubting. Alec wished he could wipe away every mistake he'd ever made, every sharp word in Magnus' past, so he was never so startled by kindness.

They started again, almost back in step, until Magnus' shoulder bumped against Alec's, a hint of a smile tilting his mouth up when Alec glanced over at him. He slid down the street with a half a step sideways and a turn in his hips. It was beautiful, the reflection shimmering beneath his feet, the bright lights from all the signs chasing his shadow.

Magnus was always beautiful, and now, tonight, that thought didn't hurt as it had this afternoon, this morning, yesterday, it had felt like forever...

Magnus stood still, holding out his hand, his head cocked to the side.

Alec stared at Magnus' hand. Glanced up at his face, his smile almost sharp, his eyes soft. Looked back at his hand, the curl of his fingers, the way the light shone against the polish, felt the pull in his chest, coaxing him closer, always closer, always towards Magnus. Put his own hand out, let their fingers meet, felt almost breathless at the touch, soft and simple as it was.

"Dance with me, Alexander," Magnus tugged, just a little, and Alec almost stumbled, took an awkward step forward instead.

"In the middle of the street?"

"Afraid of an audience? We're glamored." Magnus' free hand gestured behind them, fingers spread and rings glinting, "and everyone you know who'd care to see through it is still at the Hunter's Moon."

"There's no music?" Only there was, the beat of his heart and the buzz of the lights and the wind against the buildings and the low hum of traffic a few streets away and water pooling and draining away around them. "I haven't really ever, I don't --"

"What happened to my graceful Shadowhunter?" Magnus' eyebrow lifted, and his chin seemed to point their way forward.

"He never bothered learning how to dance." Alec shuffled another step as Magnus moved, followed inexorably, caught in Magnus' wake as his walk shifted into something else, something more, each curve of his back and turn of his head both eloquent and mysterious, speaking a language Alec didn't know, had never before realized he'd failed to learn. "More fool him."

"Never a fool." Magnus stepped closer, close enough to lift a hand and run his fingers down Alec's jaw. Magnus smiled, soft and warm, the shine in his eyes brighter than anything Alec could ever deserve. Alec's chest ached and it hurt to smile and it would have hurt more to stop. "And it's never too late to learn."

Magnus glided back, away, hands slipping free from Alec's grasp as he turned around himself, arms lifting and each step graceful. He flowed down the street, looking like he would at any moment take flight, weightless and perfect through the damp air around them.

Alec needed a better word than beautiful to describe him.

This time, Magnus' pose was entirely different when he stood still, a wink over his shoulder and toes pointed as he reached a hand back to Alec. "I promise to be gentle."

Alec smiled, felt the laugh lifting from his chest try to turn into a groan in his throat. He was happy to reach out and hold Magnus' hand, delighted to feel Magnus tug him along again, pleased that he managed a much steadier step this time. It was easy to watch Magnus as they moved, to follow each shift of weight, each subtle pull or push from his hand, but it was hard not to stare at his own feet as he did, sure every moment he was about to trip over a gutter or a curb or his own too-heavy boots.

The rain was sprinkling and lights were shining and Alec laughed whenever he stepped wrong, a clumsy shadow to Magnus' sharp grace. His laughed faded, too breathless to hold onto whenever Magnus slid close, closer, a fleeting brush of his hands against Alec's face or shoulders, their chests almost touching before he stepped back, stretched out as far as their arms would reach. He danced away with a sharp feint sideways or an entirely too intriguing twist of his hips or some improbable shift of weight that seemed to make the neon shimmers in the air part around him as he cut through the air. Still Alec followed, turning wide around Magnus' neat spins, pulled in by his smile, his eyes, the line of his shoulders as he slipped between the raindrops.

It was only when the door to the building was around the corner, only when the rain blew over them and then blew out, that Alec finally caught him. Magnus paused, Alec's hands wrapped around his, and it was Alec's turn to tug him closer, to smile as Magnus followed, to let his smile fade as he kissed him.

It was different than that first reunion kiss, that one full of joy, relief, hope. There was tension now, awareness of the puff of breath between them, the heat of skin, the warmth of muscles loose and ready for more.

More.

Alec could feel the tremble in his arms as he held Magnus close, as he kissed him, kissed him, kissed him. He pressed as close as he could, bodies together and breath together and he couldn't tell if the thunder in his chest was Magnus' heartbeat or his own.

I missed you.

Magnus' hands burned against the back of his neck, his fingers catching and pulling in Alec's hair as his grip tightened. Alec lost what little grace his feet had found wandering across the city, stumbling back and pulling Magnus with him. He staggered until he felt the rough edges of old bricks against his shoulders, until he felt the light across his eyelids dim as they were claimed by shadows, and the groan in his throat was back, heavy and burning.

I couldn't bear losing you.

There were almost there. He literally only had to walk around the corner and they could be home, they could be together behind closed doors and there was a bedroom and a bed and... He couldn't make himself stop, not even for that, couldn't lift his head or let his mouth slip away from their kiss. He only managed to loosen his grip on Magnus' jacket in order to slide his hands beneath it, to feel the curve of his ribs through his shirt, to feel the warmth of him close, closer.

Even that wasn't enough.

Alec gripped and pulled, folds of shirt caught between his fingers as he lifted it enough to slide his hands beneath it, to feel Magnus' skin against his palms, to feel the way his body almost shivered at the contact.

I can't stand who I am without you.

Alec could feel Magnus' thumb against his throat, the curl of Magnus' fingers against his neck, the pull, tension in Magnus' arms, the tilt of his chin to kiss Alec harder, and he couldn't, he couldn't. Magnus' skin was beneath his palms and Magnus' mouth was against his and it wasn't enough, it would never be enough. They pressed together so hard he could feel the straps of Magnus' clothes caught between them, and still they were both holding tight, pulling tighter. He couldn't stop the roll of his hips, desperate to rub, to feel, desperate for more, couldn't stop the shudder of his breath and the ache in his chest.

I never want to be that man again.

Magnus pulled on Alec's hair, lifted his chin and pulled back, and Alec heard his breath almost whimper before he managed to focus, to meet Magnus' eyes. Magnus' hand shifted, palm pressed to Alec's temple, and his lips parted as if he was about to speak, but something shifted in his face, in his shoulders, everything softer somehow, and first he swallowed, and smiled. "Are you sure?"

"Of what?"

A car drove by a block away, just close enough the reflection of light slipped across Magnus' face, just enough to show the lift of his eyebrows, the crinkle of a smile beside his eyes. "In an alley?"

"Glamored, remember?" Alec smiled back, though it was hard to hold, the breathless knot that he'd been carrying between his ribs ever since he thought he'd lost Magnus was still there, looser, unraveling, but not quite gone, not yet. He could hear the tension still in his own voice. "I want to."

I want you.

Magnus' fingertips traced a curve along Alec's cheek, his thumb dragged briefly against Alec's mouth, the slightest sharp-edged pull from the nail. Alec's lips parted on a warm shuddering sigh as Magnus nodded. Alec leaned in to kiss him again, breath warm between their mouths before their lips met, and everything was still, everything warm, the last tight edges of his worry gone, gone. The only tension left was the too-fast beat of his heart and the too-tight grip of his hands.

The sharp aborted lift of Magnus' hips as Alec's thigh pressed against him was the first almost-awkward motion Alec had ever felt Magnus make. His heart stuttered like an echo; he felt the jerk in his breath, in his spine, all the way to the throb in his cock.

I need you.

Alec couldn't think, could only feel, sharp jagged disconnected images caught between each breath, each kiss. There was the catch of clothes on nails as they desperately pushed them out of the way, the rough scrape of the bricks through his shirt, against his back, the jump of muscles against his fingers as he trailed them across Magnus' stomach, the perfect curve of Magnus' back as Alec's fingers reached his hips, the tug of cloth and belts, the shift of moving lights and cool damp air against hot skin. Everything was heat and sweat and salt on his tongue and pressure building. More, always more.

I love you.

He loved Magnus' cologne. He loved the jump of his adam's apple when Alec licked the line of his jaw, loved the sound of Magnus' breath caught in his throat. He loved the sounds of their bodies pressing and sliding and feeling the catch of skin against skin. He loved the memory of Magnus' cock in his hands, the phantom weight in his palm lingering even after he'd let go to pull Magnus' mouth back to his own, kissing him again as his hips rolled and their cocks rubbed, and Magnus' hand dropped between them to hold them together, following each push of their hips back and forth, back and forth.

Alec couldn't stop talking, whispering into the curve of Magnus' neck, the taut line of his shoulder. More, yes, I missed you, I needed you, I need you, I want you, please, yes, oh God, Magnus. It seared, white hot beneath his skin, behind his eyes, relief and release and redemption; scraped shoulders and a hot sweaty mess in an alley a half a dozen steps from a door. He couldn't steady his lungs, his heart, each breath was heavy and ragged against Magnus' shoulder, his heartbeat still too hard, too uneven. He almost whined in his throat at the gentle touch of Magnus' fingers, almost cool against Alec's cock as he put them both back into their trousers.

Alec sighed, long and deep, until the shiver in his chest was gone, until the world seemed steady. He kissed Magnus again, again, smiling as he traced a soft path along his neck, and he could feel the shift in Magnus' throat as he laughed, soft and warm. "How do you always manage to surprise me?"

Alec lifted his head, let his thumb rest against the warm line of skin he'd had to let his mouth abandon. "A good surprise this time, I hope?"

"They almost always are." Magnus's hand rested against Alec's cheek, and Alec wanted to close his eyes and lean into the touch, never wanted to close his eyes and miss looking at Magnus for as long as possible. Magnus' hair was only slightly mussed, his make-up barely smudged, and Alec didn't know how he did it; Alec was sure he looked a disaster. Not that he cared, not now, not when they were still so close he could feel the warmth of Magnus' body all along his own.

"Almost." Alec made himself say, made himself swallow. "I'm so-"

"Shhh." Magnus put his finger against Alec's mouth, and Alec kissed it, just to see Magnus smile again, even as he shook his head and let his hand slide down. "I know."

"I love you."

There was Alec's favorite smile again, the one he loved and hated in equal measure, so soft, so happy, still so damned surprised. "I know that too."

"Do you?" He supposed some of the surprise was his fault, now, after what he'd done. I have to do better. I have to be better.

Magnus blinked, his smile shifting as the surprise over-powered everything else. "Of course I do."

"Good." Alec kissed him, it had been too long since he'd kissed him, since he held his face and felt Magnus' jaw shift against his palms as Magnus kissed him back.

Until he startled at a cold drip of water sliding down past his collar, and as Magnus jerked away it was his turn to start laughing, soft and helpless, as he realized what they probably looked like, rumpled clothes and flushed skin and the slap of a belt against his thigh as the rain started to blow past again.

"Home?" Magnus offered, with only the slightest sardonic edge to his voice. "Your shirt is a lost cause, but I do still hold out some hope for mine."

"Home," Alec agreed.

#bloodspeckledraphael #malecsanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

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singingwordwright · 7 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Characters: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood Additional Tags: Introspection, Suicidal Ideation, Anxiety, Angst, anger issues

The temptation to go out onto the balcony or the fire-escape is almost unbearable.

Even sitting in Magnus’s spacious living room, it seems like the walls are closing in on him, and the air is too warm and still. He’s suffocating in here.

He hasn’t been able to breathe properly indoors for weeks. He goes to high, open places every chance he gets.

Now he can’t. Those open-air sanctuaries where he he can feel his lungs expand and finally take in deep, cool breaths are no place for him. His refuge is denied him. He knows what Magnus will think, what he will fear, if he gets home and sees Alec out there.

Not that there’s (much) cause for real concern. He wouldn’t go out there with any intent other than to breathe. It’s a far less frequent thing for Alec to activate his surefooted rune and take the express elevator to the ground. Jace, however, can attest that it’s been known to happen.

Until the night of Max’s party, Alec hadn’t realized what he was actually flirting with.

He keeps waiting for someone--probably Jace, but these days it might even be Magnus--to make the connection. To realize how accustomed he’s become to taking the drop.

That was, in the end, the true fear Iris’s spell had caused to manifest. Clary’s loathing and blame were just a convenient vehicle. He knows, deep inside in a place that not even Magnus nor Jace are privy to, the spell preyed upon some microscopic worry that must have been calcifying in his brain like a grain of sand inside an oyster, that one day something would drive him to do for real what he’d been rehearsing for weeks.

How many times have you practiced that jump, Alec?

Does it count, if he didn’t consciously know that was what he was doing? If he only wanted--just for a few seconds--to feel weightless, unburdened by either concern or gravity? To feel the wind sweeping past his face, and the gentle explosion of cool air in his lungs when he sucked in that involuntary gasp as he fell?

If he’s honest with himself, it was a habit that started before Jocelyn died at his hands. It even started before Valentine took Jace. He can’t pinpoint when, nor can he really say why.

In the not-so-distant past he might have blamed Clary for it, but he’s trying not to do that anymore. That’s another terribly destructive habit he’s acquired along the way. It is, in fact, a habit with a body count attached.

Alec knows what he said to Jocelyn before his hand plunged into her chest.

He can’t actually remember saying it, but he knows.

the demon must be feeding on negative emotions--anger, hate, rage...

In those brief moments when the demon had control of him--

...always the favorite child...

--he’d taunted her with the malice he’d been cherishing against both her and her daughter.

...i’m done living in your shadow...

The attempted murder and downfall of his parabatai. The disgrace of his family. The fact that his world no longer resembles the sane, stable, predictable place it had been.

All that, he laid at Jocelyn’s door before he killed her. He knows he did.

Those constricting bands are tightening around his chest again. He can’t feel his lungs inflate. He wants more than anything to be out there, up high, where he can draw a breath. And if he needs to, he can activate his rune again and fly.

Who the hell am I to judge you, Izzy? How can I, when my own addiction has been slowly devouring me without me even realizing it?

“Alexander?”

He jerks. When did Magnus walk in? How long has he been trying to get Alec’s attention?

“Can we go for a walk?” Alec rasps, the breath in his chest insufficient for powering his voice to any volume that might resemble surety. “A park? The river? Around the block? Just...anywhere.”

Without a word, Magnus flings a portal into existence. Alec doesn’t hesitate to accept Magnus’s proffered hand. He doesn’t know where they’re going, but he doesn’t have to. Magnus will take him where he needs to be.

The scent of pine and moss and decomposing leaves fills his nose on his first breath. There’s a cool, misting rain on his face. Alec flings his head back and breathes.

“We’re in the Cascade Mountains,” Magnus says calmly. “There’s a lodge not far from here with a cell tower. If the Institute needs you, I’ll portal you back to their doorstep immediately, but I just thought perhaps this might be better than city air.”

It is. Alec nods appreciatively, but he’s too busy inhaling and exhaling to speak for a long moment. The starlit dark is too calming to use his witchlight or night vision rune, so he feels along the damp tree trunks until he comes to a cool, flat boulder large enough for them both to sit.

“I don’t understand it,” he says at last, fumbling for Magnus’s hand until he can lace their fingers together. “I’m happier the last couple weeks than I can ever remember being. And yet I’m--”

“Hurling yourself off ledges?” Magnus’s tone is gentle, because that’s what Magnus does when reassurance is called for, but his fingers tighten fiercely around Alec’s.

“Yeah. That.” Alec draws another deep breath. “I forgave my mother.”

He can almost hear Magnus’s confused blinking. “Okay.”

“After Max’s rune ceremony. Even with everything she’s said and the way she’s been. To me. Izzy. Jace. You. When she needed it, I let that go and forgave her. The way Clary did for me.”

“I would expect no less of you, Alexander.”

“Shouldn’t you?” Alec scoffs. “It’s not like I’ve made a habit of being forgiving or even, I don’t know, gracious about, well, anything.”

“No one can deny you’ve taken some body blows recently.” Magnus’s fingers explore his in the dark, twining and stroking. “Made some incredible adjustments in your life and worldview. A certain shortage of...let us say ‘generosity of spirit’...is understandable. Up to a point.”

“I can’t afford that.” Alec’s eyes burn and he wipes them quickly. “That demon...latched onto something in me. We even spoke about it, when we were briefing before the hunt. We talked about profiling the people in the Institute, coming up with a list of who might be at-risk for a demon that feeds on anger. I should have been the first person we looked at. I should have been quarantined, locked away somewhere I couldn’t--”

“Hindsight is meant to be a learning tool, Alec, not a scourge.”

His throat grows thick and tight and he swallows hard. “I know. That’s why. I forgave my mom because if she’d been in the Institute that night, Jocelyn would still be alive.”

To his credit, Magnus doesn’t try to protest or reassure Alec that surely he didn’t have it in him to do such a thing. Because all the evidence incontrovertibly demonstrated that yes, he did.

The ramifications of that imagined scenario played themselves out in his mind, stark and inexorable, the way they had a hundred times since he’d realized what was festering inside him. Max’s bereavement. His father’s blame. Jace’s loss of the only mother he’d ever known. Izzy being denied the opportunity to ever find any reconciliation of her own.

He would have destroyed the family he’d never wanted anything more than to protect.

“I’ve been trying to get rid of it. The anger. I don’t want to hurt anyone that way again. I mean, what if Valentine has another one of those things?”

He feels the shift of Magnus’s slight shrug. “I’d be less concerned with that than simply finding some peace of mind.”

“But tonight--with Raphael--” Another long breath. Cold air quenching the burn in his chest. Another. And yet another. “I don’t know how to let go of it.”

There’s too much else to say there, and Alec doesn’t have the words. What he’s building with Magnus, this relationship, is brighter and better than anything he’s ever known. It’s its very own force of good, a softly glowing source of light and a blanket of rightness wrapped around his shoulders to keep out the dark and the chill.

But the anger will destroy it if given a chance. Alec’s sure of that. He’s already seen hints of how it could happen, right after Jace disappeared and Alec was lashing out at everyone, Magnus included. He’d driven Magnus away, and he doesn’t ever want to do that again.

“I think it’s a process, Alec,” Magnus says after a long moment. “Being aware of it, trying to rectify it, those are solid first steps. But it doesn’t happen immediately. Making one decision to forgive one person, however significant, isn’t enough.”

“Not enough.” Alec hands his head. “Story of my life.”

“No.” Magnus says quickly. “Whatever voices are saying that to you are wrong. You know they are.”

“Do I? Izzy--”

“Isabelle did what addicts always do. Find someone to blame. Some way to make their addiction someone else’s problem and not something they need to conquer on their own.”

Alec jerks his hand out of Magnus’s. “She’s not an addict.”

“Yes, Alexander. She is.” The anger swells and his lungs start to tighten again, but Magnus’s implacable voice kept coming. “But that doesn’t mean she’s a bad person, or that she can’t be helped. If she wants to be. It has to come from her. But right now her addiction is calling the shots, making her say things she otherwise wouldn’t say. Especially when she’s high, because it feels good and she’ll say or do anything to protect and justify that feeling for as long as she can. Unless or until the cost becomes too steep.”

...you didn’t even notice when something was wrong...

“Just because she wouldn’t say those things doesn’t mean she’s wrong.” Alec springs up from the boulder like he’s got rocket boosters attached to his ass and starts walking. Uphill, not down. Somewhere with a break in the trees, maybe a ledge or overlook. He needs to be higher. After a moment of scrambling, Magnus catches up to him, laying a hand on Alec’s sleeve to keep them from getting separated in the dark. “Why didn’t I see it?”

“Are you sure you didn’t?” Magnus asks quietly.

The question goes through Alec’s chest like a spear. The weeks of Izzy pulling away from everyone, looking so afraid and just...depleted. “Of course I did. But--”

“--but she had a perfectly plausible explanation for her uncharacteristic behavior. So you didn’t inquire any further, because the real cause was unimaginable, and because you trust her. That’s not something you should blame yourself for.”

“I didn’t inquire any further because I was too caught up in you. Us.”

The glow of budding affection. The thrill of anticipation and discovery. The flare of arousal and explosion of passion long denied.

Magnus’s heartfelt plea comes in an urgent rasp. “No. Don’t use us as a bludgeon with which to punish yourself.”

“I won’t.” Inhale. Exhale. Every breath carries the crushing burdens of fear and obligation a little farther away. “I can’t.”

He can’t do that to them. They are an island of goodness in the middle of a churning, storm-ripped sea. He can’t regret seeking refuge there.

...you deserve to be happy…

Lydia said those words, but Izzy has always believed them with her whole heart. In her right mind, she’d never dream of blaming Alec for being distracted by something so new and strong and right.

Yet she does blame him.

Ergo, she’s not in her right mind.

Alec stops and turns to him, there in the middle of the midnight forest. He turns his face up to the sparse canopy and lets the drizzle dampen his skin.

She’s not in her right mind. Which means he has to find a way to help her get there, not just drag her around expecting compliance, or assaulting the one person she feels safe with. Or running away to lick his wounds because she managed to hit him where she knew it would hurt the most.

“Alexander--” Magnus speaks slowly and carefully, as though examining each word as he goes, discarding unsuitable variations. “Allow me to suggest that if you want to let go of your anger toward others, the first step has to be letting go of your anger toward yourself.”

That make sense, and yet…

Alec’s arms creep up, folding across his chest like a barrier. His lips lift in a well-rehearsed sneer. Whatever it is Magnus is trying to probe doesn’t want to be touched and he curls defensively around it. Alec can feel it swelling, ready to burst like a cyst spewing poison as a last line of defense. Mutually assured destruction.

“Oh really?” Condescending. Cold. He hates that note in his voice and he especially hates it directed at Magnus and why does he do this? “What am I angry at myself for?”

Magnus’s eyebrow twitches, a fleeting look of wry amusement tugging at his lips, as though Alec’s bristling is entirely predictable and not something he has any intention of indulging. “I can’t imagine. But I’m sure you can figure it out.”

It’s entirely disarming, that refusal to engage. A gentle needle puncture to aspirate the poison away, rather than risk it exploding all over everyone in the vicinity.

Alec pokes gingerly at it, because of course he knows what’s in there. A hundred accusations of inadequacy all stacked atop one another. Not the straight, dutiful nephilim scion his parents need. Not the attentive, supportive brother his sister needs. Not the positive role-model Max needs. Not the unimpeachable leader the New York Institute needs.

Not enough.

Never enough.

Magnus examines his rings in the dim light, and remarks softly, “I submit again that the voices feeding your anger are...distorted. Inaccurate.”

Only somewhat, in the case of his parents, but yes, point taken. It’s always seemed easier to blame himself for not coping with the weight of all the expectations crushing him than to examine them and see if they were reasonable, or if they even existed at all.

And forget telling someone he wanted to please that they needed to have more realistic expectations.

“You don’t expect anything of me,” Alec blurts, peering at Magnus.

“Not true. I expect you to treat me with respect. I expect you to be the good man I know you are.” He cleared his throat. “Who, incidentally, is not the sort of man who beats up my friends without first ascertaining all the facts. And before you begin self-flagellating on that front, a simple apology and an effort to rectify things and do better in the future will suffice. But it’s highly convenient, don’t you think, that in order to meet my expectations, all you have to do is what you already wish to do?”

In other words, find a way out from under the rage that demon had used to burrow into him. Find a way to stop lashing out at others. He doesn’t know how he’s going to do it, but if he doesn’t, everything he values is going to end up in ruins.

He’s not sure how he ends up wrapped around Magnus. The sounds of the forest are gentle. The whisper of rain hitting the leaves on the ground. The occasional rustle of nocturnal wildlife. The deep susurration of their breath is thunderously loud in his ears.

Holding someone who isn’t family like this, just for comfort and closeness, is entirely new, but it’s a balm on his soul and it helps push back the rage and bewilderment.

Which is, of course, when his phone chimes with an alert.

“I’ve got to go,” he says before he even bothers to look at it. But Magnus is already summoning a portal.

As much as he regrets interrupting this time with Magnus, for once the prospect of returning to the Institute doesn’t fill him with dread. There’s a kernel of something taking root in his mind, a hint of the first way to wrest things back into equilibrium. He’s not sure what exactly it will be when it comes to fruition, but he knows he must nurture it.

As promised, they step out of the portal onto the sidewalk just outside the Institute’s wards.

“Be careful, Alec,” Magnus says as he closes the portal. “The downworld is ready to tear itself apart.”

“I will. Thank you.” He captures Magnus’s hand before he can step away. The kiss he gives Magnus is a mere brush, an affectionate benediction, but he does it here in full sight of the Institute, something he hasn’t done since the day of his wedding, and that’s important. “Tell Raphael I’d like to apologize personally, if he’s willing to see me when there’s a chance.”

“I will, Alexander.” Magnus’s gaze is tender, and that small smile makes any effort Alec might expend for his happiness worthwhile.

Setting his shoulders, he turns away from the temptation to linger and strides toward the Institute.

It’s time to fix things.

BUY ME A CUP OF COFFEE!!

#shadowhunters #malec #alec #magnus #fanfic #my fics #breathing room #mid-2x09 #s2ep09 #s2a

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cassandraclare · 7 years

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on the rights of women to own their own work. crummy crabapple speaks!

Yes, this stuff is still going on. I was hoping it would have ended after this, but it hasn’t, and being called a bitch whore murderer gets wearing fast when it’s based on nothing.

Look, frank talk about this stuff on Tumblr is often discouraged — when you have a small but pretty active group of “haters,” as happens nowadays to most successful creators, especially women, the general rule of thumb is not to talk to or about them. Blocking them on twitter excites them: it’s attention. Replying is pointless, explaining is deliberately misinterpreted, the truth is a lie, lies are truth, up is down, winning is losing. You can’t win in this situation, anyway: nobody can or does, everyone loses. The creators, the fandom, those caught in the middle (actors, etc.) Everyone.

This business about me killing Alec isn’t a rumor. It’s a lie. A purposeful lie told to make a point: that I am a bad person unworthy of my creations and that if I am a bad enough person, it’s okay to say they don’t belong to me, that I didn’t create them, that there is essentially no value in the act of creation, especially when it is done by a woman.

As we all know but mostly don’t talk about because If You Speak It They Will Come, there is a small group of anti-TMI-book fans who believe the books and the show are at war. (They are not the show’s fans. They are something else entirely. I talk to perfectly nice show fans all the time: these are less people who love Shadowhunters than people dedicated to the idea that if they scream about it long enough, the show will cease being based on this particular book series: an ultimately doomed goal that nevertheless leaves them plenty of opportunities to annoy the rest of us.) Instead of being able to accept that art is partly subjective, they are in a constant battle for an imaginary moral high ground in which they are the keepers of a version of the Mortal Instruments that has been objectively purified of all problematic elements.

The problem there being, of course, that there is no such thing as perfect, unproblematic media. Art comes from humans and humans are flawed. If you expect perfection you will be bitterly disappointed every single time: I’ve watched it happen over and over, as the this showrunner is a gift tag turns into the This showrunner is not a gift tag, and many of those who last year spoke glowingly of wrapping Ed Decter, their unproblematic hero (who once said to me in wonder, “You really worked a miracle with Malec, you know, people care about them as if they were a normal couple”), in cotton wool and fuzzy socks, now refer to Todd Slavkin as “Toad.”* Plenty of articles about the problematic elements of Shadowhunters have now been written and plenty of posts posted. (If Ed hadn’t been fired, he might have stuck around long enough to get called Ediot; these things are, after all, just a matter of time. (i get called “Casserole”, seriously, I am not kidding you, you cannot make this shit up.) )

To clarify: I am definitely NOT saying that a (potentially problematic) work should remain uncriticized to spare the feelings of the creators because they are flawed humans like everyone else. Criticism is valid; criticism is useful; criticism is important. What I am talking about in this post is not criticism. Telling a creator that her creations should be taken away from her because she “doesn’t deserve them”: not criticism. Making up funny names and mean hashtags for creators you don’t like: obviously hilarious for some, but definitely not criticism. And to some extent everyone knows this – so if it’s important to you that a creator be denied the right to claim ownership of, and pride in, her own work, it has to be because she is not just problematic but corrupt, evil, and cruel. She has to be morally bankrupt such that removing her from the narrative of her own creation is a moral good.

And so the lie that I’m planning to kill Alec (framed within the true narrative that killing off LGBT+ characters is a serious fucking problem in media) is a natural development: because wouldn’t that be awful and mean the books were morally very bad and wrong and shouldn’t creators who create bad wrong things have their creations taken away from them? Which would be just another Misogyny Tuesday on the internet except for the fact that it’s exploiting the fears of a vulnerable group of people (LGBT+ fans for whom Alec means a lot, in whatever format -- fans who have seen over and over LGBT characters die for nothing, for shitty reasons, for straight people, on TV and in movies and in comics and in books and are therefore in a place to be incredibly hurt by it happening again), to score a point in what is basically a ship war. And that is really shitty.

And yes, it’s a ship war.

There was really a “salty casserole” joke in there begging to be made. Missed opportunity!

So, why am I salty, you might ask? There is this belief that I must be Upset With The Show because people care about Malec on it more than Clace: my friends, the field where I grow my fucks is barren on this topic. I made up both couples. I don’t care which one you ship more, especially in a format where their story is not being told by me and for all I know, the showrunners don’t even want you shipping Clace at the moment. They seem into Climon and oh God, I have bored myself with this tangent.

I invented Clace and Malec. I’m writing a trilogy about Malec because I love Malec and have a story in my head about them, despite being offered three times the money to write one about Clace, as they’re “more marketable.” I do not have a favorite. Maybe writing works that way for some people but I doubt it. I’ve always said I don’t ship in my own books, and that is precisely what I meant.

Moving on: Are there things that have upset me about the show and the way it was developed? Yes — being told my mostly-female audience wasn’t a desirable one because they’re female; the fact that the female artist of color who created the runes has never been paid or credited for their use; being told Isabelle was “tits and ass”, being told Alec being gay was “a strike against his likeability”, contractual shit you will never know about because that stuff isn’t public — but for some reason I’m supposed to give a flying fuck about who ships what canon couple on the show? For viewers, as it should be, this is a TV show: for me this is part of my brand and has real-world consequences for my life. Unsurprisingly I care about those, not some imaginary ship war.

I was thrilled Shadowhunters won a GLAAD award for Magnus and Alec. (I was thrilled when the movie of Mortal Instruments got a GLAAD award nomination for Magnus and Alec though there was so little of them in the movie, it served to really underline the paucity of LGBT+ storylines in major film and tv.) I congratulated Matt and Harry on twitter; the comments below mine are something of a primer in why female creators are fleeing the internet in greater and greater numbers.

https://twitter.com/cassieclare/status/848497330999369729

The message is overwhelmingly: “Shut up, bitch, how dare you open your mouth and remind us that this show exists because your books do, even though you didn’t actually say that but you see, we like to pretend you’re dead and it’s inconvenient when you speak.” I’d imagine every one of those commenters would tell you they were a feminist, too. The idea that nothing is gained by shutting up women or denying that their intellectual property has worth or value is apparently one that seems good in the abstract, but falls at the first hurdle of but I don’t like her.

The abstract often does fail when it comes into conflict with the concrete. Being a feminist ally means being an ally even to women you don’t like, because being an ally only to people you like requires no effort and less thought. That doesn’t mean never criticizing women or their work. But it does require interrogating what’s going on in your own head. One of the most unpleasant haters I see on twitter, who viciously loathes me though we have never met, has read all my books; she has Malec in her username, and a quote from the books in her bio. She has Cassandra Jean’s art on her twitter page, and Valerie Freire’s rune designs in her text and background. That’s a lot of mental and artistic real estate devoted to the work of three women she refers to as  “garbage trash.” (Though I think Cassandra Jean and Val are mostly garbage trash because they associate with me and should instead have waited ten years for the TV show to come along so they could draw pictures of it or something. I don’t really understand it: the cognitive dissonance that allows to you dedicate your life to “Malec” while crapping on the person who created both characters and their relationship is so enormous that I can only follow it so far and no farther. I understand thinking that the show version is better, but not whatever warped fantasy tells you that if the books had never been written the show (now called “Evilchasers” perhaps) would have heroically found a way to invent the story of a gay demon-fighting warrior and his biracial warlock boyfriend anyway because that very specific story was floating around the ethereal planes waiting to be discovered by the psychic powers of Disney and it is only by great misfortune that I got to it first.) Point being: if your username is “Bubbles loves Malec” yet your twitter is dedicated to spewing venom at the person without whom the thing you love would not exist, it might be time to ask yourself some questions about cause and effect, and also, what that hate of yours is doing for you, psychologically speaking.

Look, I am going to get a lot of shit for this post, but whatever — the upside of being constantly screamed at for things you have not done (slut-shamed Isabelle, planned to murder Alec, thus contributing to the fucking awful homophobic trope of killing off gay characters, "stabbed the actors in the back”, promoted incest, poisoned the earth’s water supply) is that you no longer bother worrying about being screamed at for things you did do. I won’t do set visits or conventions since coming back from NY Comicon to stuff like this:

I’m not going to comment on the specifics, save to say they represent a massive and almost hilarious (though probably deliberate) misinterpretation of literally everything that happened on that panel. (If the network didn’t want book fans there, asking me questions, they wouldn’t have brought me there. I was there to do promotion for the show by talking about the show and the books — I am the author, and what the literal fuck else do you think they brought me there to talk about? The history of Belgian cabinet-making? They don’t think attention paid to the books takes away from the show: only a small group of asshats think that, and it’s weird that the OP never paused to think that if they didn’t want me there talking about the books, they could simply NOT HAVE INVITED ME. Also did it seriously never occur to them that panelists are asked to speak at certain junctures or in reference to certain questions, or gestured at to do so, we don’t just randomly interject? Lord.

I will admit it was extreme of Harry not to leave me lying there on the floor or maybe drop a chair on my head while no one was looking. He should reconsider his choices.)

But that’s the thing: posts like this one are the reason I haven’t gone back to set, or gone to another convention, or promoted the show. Would you go to a convention if you knew people like this were going to be feet away from you in the audience? I’m a grown-up, I can take being called Crummy Crabapple (did the whole kindergarten class vote on that one or was it a decision by fiat…?) but the sheer hate that underpins the silliness of the post makes the idea of being near people who think like that fairly shuddery.

I gathered a few such posts together to show to FF, and the network’s never blamed me for not wanting to go out and physically promote again. The sad part of all this is that mostly I pretend the show doesn’t exist because the downside of mentioning it is being screamed at for days by asshats (Let me be very specific what I mean by “asshats” = people who send threats, who use insulting gendered language, make anti-Semitic slurs, and repeatedly tell me I should not be allowed to own my own work — if this is not stuff you do, I’m not talking about you. Criticism of the books is fine and irrelevant.)

We all know these asshats exist — and we are all sad about it: me, the network, the actors, the showrunners, because the net result of them existing is that I don’t talk about or promote the show, and that’s a loss for a show that could really use that outreach. Losing me, my online audience, my worldwide publishers, as potential promotional partners is bad, not good, for a show that these people theoretically love. Losing the book fans the show depended on as viewers, but who can’t stand the toxic atmosphere, is bad, not good, for the actors and writers they claim to support. Screaming “INCEST FREAK!” at every twelve year old who comes online and timidly asks when they will see Chairman Meow is not going to raise the show’s ratings. If someone is more interested in driving away the show’s potential audience because they regard them as moral degenerates than they are in getting it renewed, that’s their bliss to follow, but the reason I’m mentioning these people at all is 1) I’m disturbed by the narrative women shouldn’t be allowed to own their own work and 2) many many posts have now been made about what an awful place the Shadowhunters/TMI fandom is, and that sucks for everyone. Sadly, it doesn’t take that many people to ruin an online space.

The idea that the books and the show are at war for kibbles is a fannish one (most people, including my publisher, regard TV shows based on books as advertising for those books because from a book perspective that’s what they are) seems to come out of the fact that fans argue about which they like better, something that has happened since the dawn of adaptations. I remember it from when I was in the Harry Potter fandom: Alan Rickman understood Snape better than JKR, the movies gave Draco more depth, etc and so on. Looking back now I can see the irony of people with usernames like Lupinfan talking about how Lupin was sidelined in the books but not the movies, but distance gives infinite perspective, I suppose. If you like Malec better on the show: awesome. They still exist on the show because they were invented in the books. That statement will be interpreted as the height of arrogance, but it’s just flat fact. They matter in both formats to a lot of people. There will never be a hand of God that reaches down from the sky and declares either one better. It will always be a matter of taste and opinion. The fact that art is subjective is something we all have to live with.

This is what I mean about the “killing Alec” lie: it has become part of the justification for my unworthiness to claim to have anything to do with my own characters. Killing Alec would be a bad thing to do to Alec (and Magnus); thus I would be terribly maltreating Alec (and Magnus); thus I don’t deserve to have anything to do with Alec (or Magnus). Thus it is okay to tell me to get the fuck out – how dare I even open my bitch mouth to congratulate the actors playing my characters if I would do something so terrible to them, after all? And who cares if it’s a lie and no one can source it? (Come on now, be real — no one tried.)

Whether I deserve Alec and Magnus is somewhat beside the point: I invented them regardless, and there was a large and profoundly intense Malec fandom before the show ever aired, whose existence is in fact directly responsible for the fact that Malec are a thing on the show at all. (Initially, neither of them appeared or were even referred to in the pilot.) Reality doesn’t really intrude into the fantasy that Magnus and Alec and Isabelle and Jace descended, pre-created, from a sky cloud, though: the fan/creator ownership dichotomy has existed since before Arthur Conan Doyle was bullied into bringing Sherlock back from the dead. Fans and creators don’t always agree and creators aren’t always right. What they are, however, always, is creators.

(In case I had forgotten that I am not, in fact, a hot dude actor. ASTONISHING INFORMATION.) It is mysterious to interpret congratulating actors as taking “credit for Matt and Harry’s hard work”; I neither need or want that anyway because I am not an actor; I am already credited on the show as the author of the source material, which is what I am. (I’ve won plenty of book awards but would be very puzzled to win, say, a Nobel prize for chemistry.) I congratulated the actors knowing I’d get a raft of shit for either doing so or not doing so: I chose to do so despite the inevitable annoyance factor because I like Matt and Harry; I wanted them hired; I like how much they love the characters, and I’ve always found them to be kind people who would loathe and despise the kind of tweets these folks are sending on their behalf.

Ironic, that.

But yeah, I also sent it because I’m proud of Malec. Deal with that. Women need to be allowed to be proud of their work sometimes without that being considered a deep evil. I don’t think the Magnus and Alec I created are perfect (by which I mean my writing of them, not their endearing flaws ;) but they represent years of work and love, and like any author would be, I’m thrilled to see the screen version of them acknowledged twice as something special. That’s very normal: for the GLAAD win, I got flowers from my publisher, congrats from the network and from my agents at CAA, because why wouldn’t you congratulate an author on something good happening to an adaptation of their books? The idea that when discussing an adaptation of their work, an author should reel back in terror screaming “I AM UNWORTHY TO BE MENTIONED IN THE SAME SENTENCES AS THE CHARACTERS I CREATED!” is so bizarre to most people that if you tried to explain to them that some women, not all women hahaha of course, but SOME WOMEN JUST DONT DESERVE TO BE ALLOWED TO TALK OR CLAIM THEY CAN “OWN” THINGS AMIRITE, they would back quietly away muttering that they had an important appointment to get their hedgehog dyed blue because they would literally think you were probably a serial killer.

This situation is not unique to these books, to me, or to this show: however, there is a special angle to this particular situation. Many commenters on all this have noted that the books are a female creation, the show a male one. Ed, Todd, Michael, Matt, McG, and Darren are all men, and in many ways, people find it much more comfortable, much easier, and much simpler to give uncritical admiration to men. They’re men, and therefore they have authority I don’t, and my continued existence as the author of the source material of Shadowhunters is seen as even more horrible because it makes it a girl thing, and “girl things” are less serious and less worthy. One of the things I often see the haters say is that the show is “older”; in fact the audience of the show is statistically younger than the book’s audience (I’ve seen the numbers) but I think it’s hard not to want to dismiss something so imbued with lady germs as being inherently inferior (and what’s more inferior than young women? It’s trendy to bash YA, which is seen as the province the young and the female – surely preferring men’s work makes you, you know, a more serious person? And surely if I had the sense God gave a weasel, I’d stop writing, give the book rights to some guy, and retire in shame? GO FORTH HARLOT AND WRITE YA NO MORE.)

Feminism does not mean you cannot criticize works by women. I’ve said that before, but I’m saying it again because it’s so easy to dismiss essays like this by saying “She’s hiding behind feminism and claiming we can’t criticize her because she’s a woman!” Nope. (Though it does mean you look for patterns. It’s kind of interesting there’s this small group of people who believe these characters/storylines really came alive when control of them was handed over to a series of ever-changing white middle-aged men. I mean, coincidence perhaps, but…?) I haven’t addressed criticism here really because it’s not the point: there is a huge gap between writing a bad review of a woman’s book and crusading for the idea that she shouldn’t be allowed to own her own intellectual property. Men taking away, literally taking away the money made from and authorship of women’s work is an ugly part of history (“Colette and [her husband] separated in 1906, although it was not until 1910 that the divorce became final. She had no access to the sizable earnings of the Claudine books [she had written]—the copyright belonged to him”) and it’s disturbing to see a group of primarily women argue that it should be repeated.

If the idea that a woman created Magnus and Alec, or any characters or world, is so horribly, terribly bothersome that you have to make up lies that, in your mind, render her unworthy of her own creation so that it’s all right to “take it from her” by discounting her role as a writer, her ownership of her own intellectual property, her right to exist as a person and to stand on the same stage at a convention as the “gem-like saint” male actors playing her characters — maybe think about why?* What does screaming that I’d better not think Alec and Magnus have anything to do with me get you, really? Except the knowledge that if, one day, you write or create or draw something people love, you’ve helped create an environment in which it’s a veritable certainty you’ll get treated like you’re a piece of shit for doing it?

*And “bitch” is “bitch”, friends. It doesn’t matter what letters you take out, it’s still misogynist and still shitty. You know what you’re saying, and so does everyone else. Try asshat, really. I recommend it.

#shadowhunters #malec #cassandra clare #feminism

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