#stubborn hero (Jace)

[dream-dove]

“Oh, then I suppose you’ll be wanting these back?” / Luke for Jace

Jace’s eyes narrowed as he took the brooch from Luce, annoyance flickering across his face. “Luce, why did you take it? Didn’t you think I would notice? This brooch is important to me, not just a pretty trinket.” He sighed, despite his brother antics Jace couldn’t seem to stay mad. “But since you have returned it, I forgive you, brother.”

[casscainmainly]

POC Batfam Members Reading Guides + Starter Comics

The Batfamily has a lot of excellent POC characters, but I know comics can be hard to navigate. This list compiles the main POC Batfam members, their reading guides, and recommended runs to start out with. Not including Dick, but if you want a reading guide for him check out this one from @fantastic-nonsense (it actually covers all the Batfam members, it's a great one-stop resource!). This is not an exhaustive list by any means, so feel free to comment/add on with any additions!

Damian Wayne / Robin

The biological son of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul, Damian Wayne's character growth, complex relationships with his family, and general adorableness has endeared him to the hearts of many.

Reading list from @dailydamianwayne

Recommended starter run: Batman and Robin (2009)

Cassandra Cain / Batgirl

Raised to be an assassin, chose to become a hero. Cassandra Cain's unique abilities, stubborn personality, and amazing character journey make her one of the Batfam's most lovable characters.

Reading list from @dailycass-cain Recommended starter run: Batgirl (2000)

Duke Thomas / Signal

After his parents succumb to Joker gas and disappear, Duke Thomas throws himself into the world of vigilantism. He is beloved for his dedication to his family, unique connection to Gotham, and headstrong personality.

Reading list from @duketectivecomics

Recommended starter run: We Are Robin

Helena Bertinelli / Huntress

A child of Gotham's most powerful mafia family, Helena Bertinelli seeks vengeance after an assassin murders them. Her passion for the people she cares about, her Catholic background, and her sometimes volatile personality make her an interesting and unique beloved character.

Note: Helena was originally portrayed as White, but was retconned in Tim Seeley and Tom King's N52 Grayson run to be mixed race and/or Black. She also has an extremely messy publication history, and it's debatable whether N52/Rebirth is even the same character. She is not to be confused with Helena Wayne.

Reading list from @purpleladyofthenight

Recommended starter run: not a comic, but Justice League Unlimited's episodes "Double Date," "Grudge Match," and "Question Authority" are a great introduction. Then Huntress (1989).

Luke Fox / Batwing

The son of Wayne Enterprises CEO Lucius Fox, Luke Fox inherits the mantle of Batwing from David Zavimbe. Inducted into the Batfam during Rebirth, Luke is known and loved for his genius-level intellect, his complicated relationship with his father, and his unwavering dedication to the cause.

Reading list from @lornahs (includes David Zavimbe)

Recommended starter run: Batwing (Luke shows up in #19 onwards, but the rest is worth it too!)

Maps Mizoguchi / Robin

A student at Gotham Academy, Mia "Maps" Mizoguchi is the newest Robin on the scene! Energetic, ever-curious, and a huge Batman and Robin fan, she's a fan-favourite for a very good reason.

Reading list from @emilyarmadillo

Recommended starter run: Gotham Academy

Other characters who are Batfam adjacent include Talia Al Ghul, who I would recommend using fantastic-nonsense's reading list again, and Jace Fox, for whom you should read The Next Batman: Second Son.

POC characters are still few and far between in comics, and it's important to support the characters we already have to show DC that there is a demand for diversity. All of these characters have truly interesting stories, personalities, and character arcs, and deserve our love and support!

[manygeese]

@lost-trio-week day 7: cozy

this is a wrap on lost trio week! had a blast doing this and seeing all the other works done for it! it was SUCH a pleasure to participate in! this really helped me get through finals week if im gonna be honest bc them finals were NOT finaling

~*~

Jason, Leo and Piper were watching a movie. That is, they were watching a movie until the power shut off.

Jason was laying across his partners, his head in Piper’s lap, falling asleep to the feeling of her braiding and unbraiding the longest parts of his hair and Leo’s warm hands massaging his shoulders. The movie was just white noise at that point, he couldn’t even remember what it was about. Was it one of Leo’s sci-fi films or one of Piper’s crime documentaries?

His eyes were already closed when the TV crackled and sputtered out. He was tempted to keep them shut, but Leo began poking him in the cheek repeatedly. “Jason. Hey, Jason.”

He let out a whine and snuggled further into Piper’s jeans. “What?”

“Did you screw with the power?”

“No.” Jason grabbed the hand that was assaulting his face and wove their fingers together. The hand tried to pull away, but he nipped at its wrist and pulled it towards him. He felt Leo fall against his back with a yelp. Piper snickered behind them.

She struggled to get up under their weight (mostly Jason’s, since Leo was built like a popsicle stick). After a few tries, she collapsed back onto the couch. “Leo, help me get our resident himbo off the couch so I can get a flashlight.”

Leo sat back up, flapping his hand around until Jason had to surrender it. That doesn’t mean he didn’t grumble about it, though. Leo lit his hand on fire, judging by the way the corner of Jason’s still shut eyes turned orange instead of pitch black. “Why can’t I just, y’know, set myself on fire?”

She shook her head with a sigh. “You’re gonna catch Jason’s hoodie on fire, that’s why.” Oh, that explained the heat he felt growing on his bicep!

“Oh, shit,” Leo hissed. The orange went away, and with it the warmth of the flame. “Sorry, hon.”

“S’okay,” Jason cooed. Little butterflies flew around in his stomach. Hon. He loved it when Leo called him that. Or when he called him anything, really.

“Leo? A little help?” Piper grunted, trying to lift Jason by his left shoulder. Warm hands tugged on his right. Together, they moved him a grand total of two inches. He could be stubborn when he wanted to be.

“Don’t make me do this, Jace,” Piper warned, grabbing him by the chin and turning it towards her face. His eyes opened slightly. She was leaning over him, making her hard to see since he didn’t have his glasses on, but he could make out her furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

He gave her a lovesick smile. “Do what?”

Piper huffed. She then pulled a 180 and began fluttering her eyelashes. “Jason, get the fuck off of me,” she said in a honeyed, heavily charmspeak-infused voice. He promptly got the fuck off of her, rolling onto the floor. “Thank you, babe.”

He let out a goofy chuckle. “You’re welcome.” Ooh, babe. They were spoiling Jason in the pet names department today. He closed his eyes again and listened to the sounds of his partners heading to the kitchen.

“Jason, how do you like your hot chocolate?” Leo called, being unnecessarily loud. Jason didn’t respond, instead opting to clamber back onto the couch and doze off there.

“Jason, sweetheart, darling, honey bunny, stop being a whiny baby and tell me how you want your hot chocolate.” There was the sound of a flame fwooming to life and the crshhh of a whipped cream can. “Or me and Piper will eat all your granola bars.”

Jason scoffed. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Hey, Pipes, I heard granola tastes really good with hot cocoa.”

“We should try it,” Piper laughed.

Jason got up and trudged to the kitchen. He was met with a whipped cream can in his face, rather than declarations of undying love. It left a dollop on his nose.

Leo giggled and smushed a chocolate chip into the center of it. “There. A masterpiece.”

Piper kissed the whipped cream off his nose, which he greatly appreciated. He leaned forward to get another, preferably on his lips, but she shoved a mini marshmallow into the space where his lips were parted. Leo cackled and stumbled forward, finally leaning up and cupping Jason’s face in his hands before kissing him. And sure, his marshmallow was stolen from him, but he couldn’t really complain.

Leo removed his hands from Jason’s face (which Jason whined at, because now he felt cold and also he just could) and started heating up a third mug of cocoa for him.

“How do you want it?” Piper asked, stirring the drink for him.

“Marshmallows. Do we have any blankets?” Jason lamented the fact that he would have to stay upright while he drank, because that meant he could no longer be in the ideal cuddling position.

“I’ll go get you some from the bedroom, hon,” Leo offered. Jason grabbed Piper’s hand me started pulling it in the same direction their boyfriend went, but she held fast.

“Just- let me- oh my god, Jace, let me put your marshmallows in and then we can go,” she laughed, knocking her shoulder against his. As soon as she was done, he practically dragged her to intercept Leo on his way back to the kitchen.

He found Leo with an armful of blankets, just getting out the bedroom door when Jason scooped him up and plopped him back down on the bed. His boyfriend squealed and kicked at him, but Jason was not about to let go. He pulled Leo’s back into his chest and slotted his head into the corner between his neck and shoulders. It was blissfully warm.

Piper grumbled behind them, something about feeling left out, before she tapped him on the shoulder and handed him his mug. He sat up slightly, only to chug the whole thing (not at all a wise decision, don’t try this at home, kids) and pull her over the edge of the bed. She fell horizontally across them, barely managing to keep the other two cups from spilling. “Jason! What the hell?”

“It’s cold. We should cuddle,” he explained simply.

“You’re cold. I should drink hot chocolate,” Leo reasoned, struggling to get out of Jason’s grasp. He wiggled in place for a moment until Jason gave him a firm squeeze around the midriff, prompting him to breathe out a laugh. He reached helplessly for Piper, who set the mugs on the nightstand and pulled on Leo’s arm. There was the sound of playful laughter which Jason had no choice but to join in. He rolled over, pressing Leo and into the bed, forcing an oof out of the man. “Piper! Save me!”

She giggled and wormed her way between Leo and Jason, prying the blond’s hands off of Leo’s waist. “Fear not, fair maiden! I shalt defend thine honor!” She declared, pushing Jason off the bed. He landed with a grunt and a chuckle. She grabbed his outstretched hand and pulled him back up.

“You won’t try to snuggle us to death again, right?” Leo asked warily.

Jason didn’t let go of Piper’s hand, reaching to collect one of Leo’s as well. “Mmm. No promises.”

Later in the evening, they were all cuddling in bed. Leo was in the middle, being hugged from either side by his partners since he was the warmest. Piper leaned slightly over the smaller man, her hair sprawled across the pillows. Jason made no effort to hide the fact that his nose was buried in it, breathing in the smell.

If he ever thought he had been cozy before, Jason was sorely mistaken, because this- this was cozy.

[marjaystuff]

Lisa Harris Interviewed by Elise Cooper

The Fallout Series

Lisa Harris

“The Fallout Series” by Lisa Harris currently has five books out, The Last Day, Survival, Hunted, Frequency, Deception, and Shattered, which will be out the end of this month. 

The plot has the electric grid sabotaged, with technology suddenly no longer available.  No one in the small, west Texas town of Shadow Ridge knows what took down the power grid, or when it’s going to be back up, but everyone knows exactly where they were the moment it went down. And now, with no electricity, no internet, and no modern technology, the men, and women responsible for keeping the town safe are going to have to learn how to fight crime all over again. Each book has a different hero and heroine where they meet over some criminal activity. 

Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for the series?

Lisa Harris:  In the past I have written police procedurals.  I started thinking, with all this talk about the electrical grids, what happens if the grid goes down and how would it affect law enforcement. The police must go back to the old-fashioned way of policing where they cannot call for backup, have no DNA testing, and no forensics, basically no technology. Plus, the characters lost people they loved. All the books are centered around the McQuaid family, three brothers and two sisters.

EC:  Without technology it seems this generation would go nuts?

LH:  I depend on it.  I do everything from my phone.  I order items from Walmart and Amazon.  I call my children. For me, it would be horrible as a mother if I could not communicate with my children. We would miss this modern easiness. 

EC:  Did the stories have a western feel?

LH:  Yes.  It takes place in West Texas so there were horses instead of cars. More like a contemporary western, like the series “Jericho” and “Longmire” mixed. People had weapons to protect themselves, their family, and their town. 

EC:  How would you describe the hero, Jace McQuaid, from the book, Survival?

LH:  He was broken.  He did not want to step up to become law enforcement, but realizes that if the town did not come together, it would not survive. He is intense, protective, former military, and is used to being a leader so he stepped up to the plate. 

EC:  How would you describe the female lead of Survival, Morgan?

LH:  This book takes place a year after the grid goes down. She is also broken because she lost her husband in the beginning of the incident. She supports Jace who interacts well with her son, Noah. Jace realizes he wants Noah and Morgan in his life. 

EC:  In the next book, Hunted, you describe sex-trafficking?

LH:  Because all the towns were totally off the radar, in some ways, the criminals have the upper hand. Law enforcement must catch up.  

EC: How would you describe Ava, the heroine in Hunted?

LH:  She steps into a role she is not prepared for, becoming a mother to her teenage sister, Josie. The relationship between the sisters have changed. She is spirited, smart, resourceful, and reserved.  Her job is to break codes, which she had to use to help find her sister who was taken by the sex-trafficking ring.

EC:  What was the role of Josie in the story?

LH:  She is argumentative, stubborn, a typical teenager who cannot communicate. She is having a hard time in this new situation and makes some bad choices.

EC:  How would you describe Levi McQuaid, the hero in Hunted?

LH:  Before the grid went down, he was in the police academy. He does not have the experience of his brother Jace. He is pushed into a situation where he had to grow. He was a classmate of Ava so this story became a friend to lover’s story. 

EC:  Tess McQuaid, the heroine of Frequency?

LH:  She is the youngest of the siblings. She is an artist and now does some crime scene sketches.  She must grow up very fast. Tess is smart, resourceful, funny, determined, creative, an artsy type, and a free spirit.

EC:  How about the hero, Kellan?

LH:  He works for the Sherriff’s department in another town. He is strong, a fast learner, suspicious, protective, and stands up to a challenge. He sometimes ratches down a situation by using humor. 

EC:  How would describe Rebecca, the heroine in Deception?

LH:  She is a Sherriff in yet another town, in New Mexico. She is very strong, guarded, vulnerable, yet anxious because of her depression, and loneliness.  I intentionally wanted to make sure there was a woman in law enforcement in this series and made sure that early on she puts her career over any relationship. She is not sure she can ever trust the hero, Sam. 

EC:  How would you describe Sam McQuaid, the hero?

LH:  He was not very settled, loved adventure, and is a part of search and rescue. He also does not think about settling down until he meets Rebecca. He can be daring, stubborn, and brave.

EC:  Do they have a lot in common?

LH:  Yes. They are both fixers and have been affected by losing someone close. 

EC:  What about the book coming out this month, Shattered?

LH: Book 5, Shattered, will go into more detail about the bad guys, The Realm. They were cyber-attack bandits from multi-countries. They are thugs, enjoy chaos, and are into drugs, guns, and sex trafficking. They use the criminals to get control of what they want. In the prequel at the very end Chase, the hero, left to do a prisoner transfer.  He has not come back and is missing.  His fiancé, Hope McQuaid is the doctor of the town and is optimistic they will be reunited. 

EC:  How about the next book?

LH: In June there will be a new psychological series. Book 6 will come out in the fall, focused on the family. 

THANK YOU!!

[dream-dove]

[12:18am] The feelings mutual bitch

[12:19am] Maybe if you weren’t salty then good luck would come to you!

[12:20] Uncle you make your mother cry every time she see’s you.

❄ (Aemond)

Send me ❄ for drunk texts. For Jace!

[12:11am] I fucking hate you.

[12:13am] You have no idea how lucky you are. You'll never know how lucky you are.

[12:16am] If you ever make your mother cry, I'll punch you.

[elettralightwood]

Everyone, please, stand up and give a round of applause for the birthday boy, our one and only Consul, the hero of many wars, one of the best Shadowhunters of his generation, an amazing and loving father and husband and brother: our sweet, caring, special boy Alexander Lightwood.💙

"It’s the world that needs to change, and we’re going to be the ones to change it."

"We change the Clave,” said Alec. “From inside. We make new Laws. Better ones."

He knew Alec enough by now to know the conflicting impulses that warred in him. He was conscientious, the kind of person who believed that the others around him were so much more important than he was, who already believed he was letting everybody down. And he was honest, the kind of person that was naturally open about all he felt and wanted. Alec's virtues had made a trap for him; these two good qualities had collided painfully. He felt he could not be honest without disappointing everyone he loved. It was a hideous conundrum for him. It was as if the world had been designed to make him unhappy.

It was part of the dichotomy of Alec that had caught Magnus unaware and left him fascinated - that Alec seemed old for his age, serious and responsible, and yet that he approached the world with a tender wonder that made all things new.

Alec knew who he was. He knew what he had done and what he had fought for, and he knew what he would fight for in the future. And he knew exactly who he loved.

Alec, with his heartbreaking contradictions, shy and brave, relentless and tender.

"But that's what you're doing, isn't it? You're part of the fight just as much as the Shadowhunters on the ship—and I know you can take some of my strength, I've heard of warlocks doing that—so I'm offering. Take it. It's yours."

"If I’m a hero of war, so is he."

"Anyone who says women are weak is afraid they’re too strong."

"I hate it when straight guys think all gay guys are attracted to them. I’m not attracted to every guy any more than you’re attracted to every girl."

"Iz," Alec said tiredly. "It's not like it's one big bad thing. It's a lot of little invisible things. When Magnus and I were traveling, and I'd call from the road, Dad never asked how he was. When I get up to talk in Clave meetings, no one listens, and I don't know if that's because I'm young or if it's because of something else. I saw Mom talking to a friend about her grandchildren and the second I walked into the room they shut up. Irina Cartwright told me it was a pity no one would ever inherit my blue eyes now." He shrugged and looked toward Magnus, who took a hand off the wheel for a moment to place it on Alec's. "It's not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It's a million little paper cuts every day."

"No one blames her." "That never matters," said Alec. "Not when you blame yourself."

He deposited Chairman Meow on the ground, and the cat moved over to Alec, and rubbed against his leg. “The Chairman likes you.”“Is that good?” “I never date anyone my cat doesn’t like,” Magnus said easily, and stood up. “So let’s say Friday night?” A great wave of relief came over Alec. “Really? You want to go out with me?”

"All I did was think about being worthy of coming home to you"

He’d always assumed that storybook moments like these were meant for Jace, Isabelle, anyone but him. Yet here he was.

"You never called me back," he said. "I called you so many times and you never called me back." Magnus looked at Alec as if he'd lost his mind. "Your city is under attack," he said. "The wards have been broken, and the streets are full of demons. And you want to know why I haven't called you?" Alec set his jaw in a stubborn line. "I want to know why you haven't called me back."

"I did not make a pie,” Alec repeated, gesturing expressively with one hand, “for three reasons. One, because I do not have any pie ingredients. Two, because I don’t actually know how to make a pie.” He paused, clearly waiting. Removing his sword and leaning it against the cave wall, Jace said warily, “And three?” “Because I am not your bitch,” Alec said, clearly pleased with himself.

"Just because you said dragon demons were extinct—" "I said mostly extinct." Alec jabbed a finger toward him. "Mostly extinct," he said, his voice trembling with rage, "is NOT EXTINCT ENOUGH."

"Izzy. My sister. She told me you liked me. Liked me, liked me.”

"The Institute has a very old magic woven into its walls. I shall now use it to commune with my mother, wherever she might be found." He put his hands around his mouth and bellowed at the top of his lungs. "MOOOOOOOOOM!"

"Check you out,' said Magnus. 'My famous boyfriend, inspiration to the masses."

[khaleesiofalicante]

LIGHTWOOD BANES WEEK - ALEC & RAFE

“All good?” Alec knocked on the door.

He sounded calm - but only because he tried his best not to sound as excited as felt. He had been waiting for this day for quite a long time and he couldn’t believe it was all happening.

There was no response from the other side so Alec knocked again. No response. Maybe Rafe had overslept. Alec did notice that the light in the room hadn't gone out till early morning.

“Alright, I am coming in,” Alec said and gently pushed the door open.

He saw his son sitting on the bed, still in his purple pyjamas, hugging his knees to his chest. He kept his eyes to the floor and avoided Alec’s worried gaze. Alec didn't know what was wrong but he wished Magnus was here - he would know how to deal with this.

His way of dealing with it would of course to make an ill timed joke. Maybe Alec should try that.

“I know your bapa taught you that being fashionably late is cool,” Alec said with a grin. “But you can't be late to your own rune ceremony, buddy.”

Rafe looked up with an incredulous look on his face, he seemed a little exasperated. Alright maybe Alec wasn't the funny dad. So he tried to use his own tactics.

He knelt down in front his son and scanned Rafe’s face. “I know it is a little scary to get your first rune, but it doesn't hurt as much as you think, I promise. You are a shadowhunter. You will get used to it.”

Rafe looked away.

“What if I didn't want to be a shadowhunter?”

Something in Alec’s heart stopped or broke or burst into a million pieces. He wasn't sure and it didn't matter. He wasn't concerned by the heart inside his body. He was concerned about the little heart in front of him.

“Rafael,” Alec said softly. “What's wrong?”

The boy took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I am not just any shadowhunter, am I?”

Alec cocked his head in confusion.

“I am not just any shadowhunter,” Rafael repeated. “I am a Lightwood.”

Alec couldn’t help but smile a little at that and put his hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “Yes. Yes, you are. You’re a Lightwood.”

Rafael pushed it away. “But I am not, aren't I?”

“What do you mean?” Alec asked, genuinely confused.

“I am both a Lightwood and I am not,” Rafael explained frustratedly.

“Rafe, wha-”

“I am the son of the Consul, a hero of the Dark War and the founder of the Shadowhunter Downworlder Alliance,” Rafael said as if he was reciting a practiced speech.

Alec would have blushed in any other situation but right now he was only worried. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Rafe shook his head. “You did everything right and I...I am just worried that I won't.”

“Rafael,” Alec sighed. “You are not me. You don't have to do what I did or do.”

“But it isn't just about you,” Rafael bit his lip. “It’s all of you. Every single one. Aunt Izzy is one of the best fighters in the world. Abuelo was the freaking inquisitor and Uncle Jace...Well, he is Uncle Jace.”

Alec didn't know what to do. In this head, he heard Magnus’s voice when he spoke to Max when their blueberry got too stressed during their magic lessons.

“Smell the flowers and blow the candles,” Magnus would tell their son.

Alec took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.

“Do you want me to tell you that you are going to be great just like all of us?” Alec asked, even though he knew the answer.

“No, I don't want you do that,” Rafael said stubbornly. “Because I know I won't be.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because I am not a Lightwood, dad,” Rafael almost shouted. “Not really. I am just..I am just some boy you found in the streets. So whatever genes that make you the rest of you amazing and awesome and cool and perfect - it’s not gonna work for me.”

Alec stared at his son then. Rafael's body was hunched as if he was protecting himself from everything the world was going through at him after today.

It wasn't easy being a shadowhunter - and it definitely wasn't easy being a Lightwood.

Rafael looked at him in the eye then, his lips wobbling a little. “I am scared I won't be good enough.”

He looked at those tiny little shoulders and realized the amount of pressure that sat on them. Alec had once been worried about not being able to fill the shoes of his ancestors - of not being able to bring his parents glory. He had been terrified of not being good enough to bear his family name. The Lightwood name.

Now his son was feeling the very same. Alec wondered whether all shadowhunters felt this way at one point or another.  

“Listen,” Alec said gently. “Izzy is the best at what she does because she trains every single day. Not because she is a Lightwood. Yes, my dad was the inquisitor but he wasn't perfect. Lightwoods make mistakes too. And regardless of whether he is a Lightwood or a Herondale or Wayland, Uncle Jace is Uncle Jace not because he was born to be that person but because he choose to be. And I...I might be the Consul but I was a scared little boy for a long time too.”

Rafael still looked unconvinced and frustrated and stubborn.

“I am not going to say your last name doesn't matter. It does and it always will. We are treated differently than others because of our last name. We have been given chances and opportunities because of our last name.”

“Your tutor,” Raphael said weakly. “He was punished worse...”

Magnus and Alec had decided long ago that it was imperative for their children to know their history - all of it and from all sides.

“He got the worst of it and my parents didn't - because they are Lightwoods,” Alec admitted.

Alec looked at his son and spoke in a tone that Magnus often called his ‘Consul voice’.

“It is an honour to be a Lightwood. Our name has power and privilege,” Alec told his son. “But it is also a responsibility.”

Rafael nodded meekly. “I am responsible to uphold our family name?” his son asked in a quiet tone.

“No,” Alec said. “You are responsible to use this power and privilege to help those who don't have it.”

Rafael looked up then.

“You are not wrong to be afraid, Rafe. You are a smart kid and you are right. People will see you differently and hold you accountable to higher standards. I know it's not fair. Sometimes it can be difficult. People will always expect you to be a certain way because of your last name or your gender or your race or so many other things...But you need to be true to yourself. That’s what it means to be a Lightwood.”

Rafael sat up straight, listening intently now.

“Your mandate as a shadowhunter is to defend what is good and protect what is innocent,” Alec said firmly. “But your mandate as a Lightwood is to fight for yourself.”

“Like you did?” Rafe asked, his lips curving, just a little.

“And like so many others before,” Alec smiled. “Some day soon, your bapa will tell you about other Lightwoods who fought for themselves - Christopher and Anna and Thomas and so many others.”

Rafael actually smiled then - he always liked listening to his bapa’s stories.

“If you don't want to be a shadowhunter, then we will not force you,” Alec said seriously now. “All we want is for you to be happy. To be yourself.”

“I do want to be a shadowhunter,” Rafael confessed in a whisper. “I am just...scared. I am scared that I won't be good enough. I am scared that people will think I am not good enough.”

“As was I, Rafe,” Alec said softly, rubbing his son’s cheek. “I sometimes still feel like I am not good enough. When you feel that way, just give your best shot and remember that it is more than enough. It doesn't matter what other people think or say. That’s one more Lightwood trait for you. We don't let other people tell us who we are. We decide it for ourselves.”

“But I do care about what you think," Rafael said in a small voice. "Do you think I'm gonna be a good shadowhunter?”

“100%," Alec said without hesitation.

“How do you know?” Rafe asked skeptically.

“Because you are not even a shadowhunter yet and you are already trying to figure out how to be a good one,” Alec laughed. “A good fighter is always prepared. You are going to be just fine.”

“Because my last name is Lightwood?” Rafael teased.

“Because your last name is Lightwood-Bane,” Alec corrected with a grin. “Now I know there aren't many Banes and I myself know only one. But he is the best man I know.”

“He is the best I man I know too,” Rafe grinned. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Alec grinned back.

“Okay then,” Rafael hopped off the bed and walked towards his closet - which was larger than Alec’s own. “Let’s get dressed for my big day.”

“I am afraid my amazing, awesome, cool and perfect Lightwood genes are not going to be very helpful here,” Alec ruffled his son’s hair. 

Rafael giggled as he excitedly picked a red shirt from his closet. Alec looked at his son and walked back and knelt down again.

“I just want you to remember one thing,” Alec stared into his son’s eyes. “You were never just some boy found in the streets. I knew you were mine the moment I saw you. I knew you were my baby even then.”

“I know, dad,” Rafael replied shyly.  

“No matter what anyone says, you are a Lightwood and you will always be my son.”

Rafael put his arms around his neck and hugged Alec tightly. “I know. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Alec kissed the top of his head and walked back to the door. “Now hurry up and get dressed. Your Consul commands it.”

“Boludo,” he heard his son chuckle and Alec couldn't help but chuckle himself.

[bytheangell]

What Died Didn’t Stay Dead

(s02e20 inspired fic) (Read on AO3)

Everything’s fine. Everything’s great. Perfect, even. They won. They’re alive. They’re goddamn heroes.

Jace repeats those phrases over and over and over again. To Alec and Isabelle, to Clary, hell, even to himself. Everything is fine because it has to be fine. He has to be fine.

Except he isn’t.

Because when Jace died, he didn’t just fade away into nothingness: he went to Heaven. He died, and his soul went to Heaven, and he knows it was Heaven the way you know there’s air in your lungs and blood in your veins - it’s simply a part of you, a serenity and calm he’d never come close to imagining, suddenly his reality. Jace found himself existing in a state of pure bliss, as if every weight, every burden was lifted from him at once. He’d never felt so light, so free…

And then it all came crashing down and he woke back up on the dirty ground of Lake Lyn’s shoreline. And Clary… Clary was just so goddamn happy to see him alive, and Alec and Izzy’s relief was practically palpable, so he couldn’t tell them. He still can’t. And he knows he shouldn’t be upset with Clary but he can’t help it, because he knows what he was pulled back from and now everything feels wrong, and he’s afraid that he’ll never feel whole again.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong specifically, just that something is wrong. He can feel it in his soul, in the very blood that runs through his veins. But what is he supposed to tell Clary when she asks? ‘Hey, thanks for saving my life, but I think I came back broken?’ And that isn’t even the worst of it. He tries not to think about it, about the real reason he might be feeling this disconnect, but it isn’t exactly something he can forget. If he’s really being honest, with himself and with Clary, what he should say is ‘Thanks for saving me, but all you did was tear me away from the only peace I’ve ever known.’

Over and over in his nightmares, he feels that peace ripped away from him and he’s forced to relive the loss of it. And when it isn’t that, he sees Clary held in place and about to be executed by Circle members, or he sees the face of his father as he plunged his blade into Jace’s chest, complete with the sharp, burning pain of the fatal wound.

Because it was fatal. He died. For however long it took for Clary to kill Valentine and make her own wish, his heart had stopped and his soul had left his body. Alec felt the pain of it, he saw the proof of what really happened when their rune faded from his side as the connection severed. Alec knows, but Jace avoids talking about it because he can’t tell him the truth, not now, not ever.

“Maybe my heart stopped for a second, or my body went into shock. I dunno, I’m not a doctor,” Jace tries to reason the vanishing rune away with bullshit excuses that Alec doesn’t buy, but his parabatai does drop the topic after a while.

But not Clary. Clary just won’t let it go.

On some level, Jace is aware that it’s not right to force Clary to keep the wish a secret. He tells her that it’s for her own good, and that isn’t a lie because if the Clave ever found out then he didn’t want to think about what they might do to her for using the wish, and what they might do to him as someone unnaturally brought back from the dead. He’s trying to protect her, but he’s trying to protect himself just as much, and that’s the part he doesn’t share with her. Because he can’t talk about it, or else he’ll eventually have to talk about what really happened when he died.

Except all Clary wants to do is talk about it with him, because he’s the only one she can talk to since he forbade her from telling anyone else, even Alec and Izzy. Every time he leaves a room suddenly to hide the physical discomfort and sometimes pain he feels just from existing again, every night he wakes up crying out in his sleep after tossing and turning, Clary tries to get him to open up. When he grows distant and detached Clary only gets more insistent, until one day he snaps.

“WHY WON’T YOU JUST FUCKING DROP IT?”

Clary looks started for a second but recovers quickly. “Because there’s something you’re not telling me! We’re the only people who know what happened, which means if something’s wrong, I’m the only one who can help you! So let me help you, Jace!”

“You can’t help me, Clary! You’re the reason I feel like this!”

The second the words leave his lips Jace wants nothing more than to take them back. Hurt flashes across Clary’s face, mixing with the confusion from before.

“What do you mean? Did I… did I do something wrong?”

The quiet words Jace whispers next stand in stark contrast to his previous shouts.

“You brought me back.” Jace wishes it were that simple and he could just leave it at that. But he’s opened the floodgates now and there’s no stopping this conversation. A part of him doesn’t want to stop, either, eager to finally get everything out from where it’s been festering inside of him, poorly buried under lies and distractions. “I was happy. I felt… complete. Like I’d done everything I was meant to do, and this peace was my reward. I was in Heaven, Clary. And then I was back here.”

Clary doesn’t speak for a very long time.

“I just wanted to save you,” she says quietly.

“I know,” Jace says, but the words come out bitter and far from understanding. “And you used a wish meant to benefit all of humanity to do it - to save me from a place I didn’t want to be saved from.”

Jace can practically see his words sinking in as the expression on Clary’s face morphs from hurt to muted horror. When she doesn’t reply Jace just keeps talking, the words tumbling out with nothing left to stop them.

“We’re Nephilim. We’re meant to die in battle, it’s what we do! Sometimes I forget how far removed you are from everything we stand for… how obvious it is you weren’t raised a Shadowhunter. Because you don’t feel guilty for what you did at all, do you?”

This time Clary only shies away from the accusation for a moment before doubling down and growing defensive. “Of course not! I love you, Jace! I had a chance to bring you back and I took it. Maybe Nephilim are used to dying in battle, but that wasn’t a battle. That wasn’t some greater cause to martyr yourself for, and you didn’t deserve to die like that!” Clary’s voice shakes a little but she remains resolved, and under any other circumstance, it’d be that typical Clary Fray stubbornness that Jace usually finds endearing. Now, it only serves to push him that last step off the ledge of frustration he’s been building up since that night.

“Maybe I did! Maybe that was my cause, my purpose, did you ever think about that? I sure as hell don’t deserve to be alive at the cost of The Angel’s wish, and now I’m the only one living with that guilt because all you care about is yourself and that you got what you wanted!”

“I care about you!” Clary shoots back. “I’m… Jace, I’m so sorry. If I’d known, known where you went… I didn’t think-”

“You never do,” Jace says, shaking his head. “That’s the problem.”

The charged emotions shift to something softer, something decidedly more sad than angry.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out like that. I didn’t tell you because I know your heart was in the right place. I just thought I could hide it better - or longer, until it didn’t feel so…” he trails off, not wanting to put words to that numb sense of longing he feels inside. The wrongness of it all. He knows Clary feels bad enough already without all of that, too, if she hasn’t pieced it together already. 

“How do I fix this?” Clary asks. “Just tell me what to do. Because you’re right - I saved you because I didn’t want to lose you, and I still don’t. I can’t lose you now, not like this. So tell me how to fix this.” Clary pauses, the hands previously on her hips dropping to her side in defeat as tears well up in her eyes before spilling over with every blink to trail down her cheeks. “Tell me how to fix us.”

“I don’t think you can,” he admits, swallowing the lump in his throat that threatens to stop the words entirely. He doesn’t cry, though. “I think I just need some time.”

Clary opens her mouth to immediately protest. Jace watches her slowly force it closed again, hands clenching into fists at her side as she takes a deep breath before speaking. “Alright. Whatever you need.”

He can tell she only half-means it, that it’s the last thing she actually wants to do, but the fact that she’s willing to do it anyway is a good sign that she can see how serious he is.

“You really never planned on telling me, did you?” Clary frowns.

“No,” Jace admits since they’re well past the point of lying to spare feelings now. “Because I knew you’d feel bad and want to try and fix it.”

“Of course I want to fix it!”

“But you can’t. There’s no undoing this, I just have to take some time to figure out how to live with it.”

“Okay. Okay, fine. But promise me,” Clary says, reaching out to take his hands in her own. “Promise me you aren’t going to keep me out forever. Promise me if there’s anything I can do, even if it’s just to be there with you, you’ll tell me.” She gives his hands a squeeze, the tears returning to her eyes. “Promise me you’ll be okay at the end of all this.”

Jace nods. He wants, more than anything, to believe in a future where he adjusts and settles back into the life he’s always known, with no unsettling feeling that something is wrong, with the belief that he was always meant to be here still. He wants to believe in a perfect future with Clary by his side, raising kids they put through the Academy and teach everything they know. He wants to believe that there’s an ‘okay’ at the end of this for him - for both of them - even if he can’t imagine it now.

It feels like an impossible promise to make at the moment, but he makes it anyway because he thinks it’s one they both need to believe in.

“I promise.”

He hopes more than anything that it’s a promise he can keep.

[beclynn-herondale]

your love for the TMI gang makes me so happy I thought you should know, it’s really sweet to see nice people happy about these characters that mean a lot

Hi dear anon,

Thank you for this

And TMI is my favorite series, these characters came into my life when I was in a bad spot and didn't know who to look to, and then I got City of Bones and met TMI Fam and saw how much they went through and all they did and it gave me the strength to do the same.

And like I've said Jace and Clary are two of the first fictional characters that I saw myself in and that I could relate to, and sometimes how much I relate to Jace especially is scary but maybe that's why i love him so much, he showed me that I can have a happy ending, he gave me representation that I didn't know I needed, I was acknowledged and I was shown you can make it and heal, everything you went through can be turned to strength and you will be loved and find love that will last and the biggest that love makes you stronger then anything and that i don't destroy everything and not everyone wants to destroy me. He showed me to value my sarcasm cause it's an art, he taught me to be proud of how deeply I love and how gentle my heart can be once I let you in. He also taught me to love myself and not take shit.

And Clary showed me that just because I'm small doesn't mean I can't do big things and that I can be brave in any situation and I can make a difference. She taught me compassion and forgiveness, she taught me stubbornness and empathy, she taught me that sometimes change can lead to one of the biggest and best things in your life. She taught me heroes don't always win but they get back up again, so she taught me to always get back up again.

Alec taught me to own myself and to not change myself for anyone, he taught me to he proud of my sexuality and we both have this protectiveness for our siblings. He inspired me and so much more.

Isabelle taught me that to be a badass is to be yourself and not let others opinions get in the way of that, and she taught me you can kickass no matter what you're wearing, and let's face it she is a strong female and warrior and a bad bitch queen. She is amazing and beautiful and has shown us how much someone can grow.

Simon taught me friendship Is just as important as romantic relationships, and he taught me how deeply a friendship can be. He also taught me your life can be flipped around a thousand times and you can make, and he taught me that the underestimated and most unlikely can be a hero as well.

Magnus Bane where do I begin this man is so frickin kind and amazing and he out rules gender rules and I love him, he taught me to own my bisexuality and be a proud bish of it, he taught me time can heal things, he taught me forgiveness, he taught me so much, and this Warlock has a special place in my heart.

I hope all is well dear and that you're staying safe in these chaotic times.

And thank you for this ask 🧡🧡🧡🥺

[fierceheartsa]

@goldbuilt​ asked: „ no ! just leave me alone ! “ // start an argument.

                         it was exhausting chasing after someone who was as stubborn as any herondale he got to  meet. a soft sigh escaped his lips , as he shook his head slowly. „ i can see you are suffering and i don’t like my friends in pain. “ , he responded , as his eyebrows furrow together and he moved closer to jace to put his hand on his shoulder. „ you don’t have to act like the great hero that will never feel any pain. it’s okay to be hurt. “ , he assured the blond,  but he knew he could also bang his head against a brick wall and it would have more effort than talking to jace.

[dream-dove]

[ text ] can you let me in? I’m out front. / Luke for Jace @westerosiqueens I love text threads I'm not sorry XD)

@westerosiqueens

[text] Okay I will let you in. But only if you do me a favor.

[gleedorp]

› Name: Jeffrey ‘Jeff’ Anthony Sterling › Face Claim: Riker Lynch › Gender Identity & Pronouns: Cis-male, he/him › Sexual & Romantic Orientation: Bisexual › Age & Birthday: 16, November 8 › School: Dalton Academy › Grade: Junior  › Extracurricular Activities: Football Team, Basketball Team & New Directions › Family: Mark Sterling (father), Stormie Sterling (mother), Jessica (15, sister), John (14, brother), Jace (13, brother), Drew (15, family best friend) › Personality Traits: optimistic, loyal, kind, stubborn, jealous, thin-skinned

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Jeff can walk in a room full of people and light up everybody’s mood. Jeff is everybody’s friend, he is a great listener. He is faithful and loyal, he knows how to take care of people. He does his best to make people feel at ease, and as loved as possible. He can be quite shy at first, but he becomes the life of the party if he knows the crowd well enough.

He has a big family made up of his parents and his four siblings. They all live in Dayton, Jeff drives there as often as he can. He grew up taking singing, acting, and dancing lessons with his siblings. He loves hanging out with them and Drew, their neighbour and best friends, whenever he’s at home. He bakes with his mom, dances with his sister, and plays video games and guitar with his brothers. He has a very special relationship with his dad, and whenever they ask him who his hero is, Jeff always answers it’s his dad.

He misses home when he’s at Dalton, but he loves school so much that he considers it his second home. He is a brilliant student, he loves his friends – especially his Warbler bros – so much. No matter how badly he misses his siblings, he knows whenever he’s at home that he has another family to come back to.

He’s been studying dance in a studio in Westerville since he moved to Dalton, where he also teaches little kids ballet. Lately he’s been working on his ballroom skills to perfect them. Looking for a dancing partner, he found Allison. The two of them became good friends straight away, and it’s safe to say he spends more time at the studio than his parents think he would. He has people from Juilliard and Boston Conservatory sitting in the audience at recitals, at this point he’s not afraid to admit he dreams big. New York, London, wherever. He just wants to dance for the rest of his life.

Jeff tries to keep a positive outlook on life, even though he had a hard time dealing with bullying in his old school before he transferred to Dalton. He still talks to his old therapist, and most days he’s okay. He has his bad days, though, when he’s all but fine. He won’t show up to class, he won’t pick up the fork, the phone, his Dalton ties from the floor. He’ll disappear for a day and come back shiny and new the following one, like nothing ever happened. The bullying is the reason why he decided to join the Dalton Fight Club, growing up he realized he had to start standing up for himself, although he still struggles with self-confidence.

He adores travelling, he’s picked up the habit of visiting a different European country each summer since he turned fifteen. His favourite quote is “I have never met a person I could not call a beauty” by Andy Warhol. His family always makes fun of him, they tell him he falls in love with every single person he sees. He is the biggest Harry Potter fan, he can stay up all night reading those books over and over and never get tired. 

[thelovelylights]

Jen! I've always agreed with you on shows and whatnot but to my surprise, as I'm in a tag, a post of yours showed up and it's basically two cast members of SH being disrespectful to Cassandra clare, and you calling them heroes. Now, I don't think this is unfollow worthy because hey, who cares if I don't agree with you on one show, but I wanted to ask: have you read the books? Because, contrary to popular belief, the problematic things are things that improve as the charas grow and learn (...)

(…) For exanple, Alec’s biphobia (which, I personally, interpreted as being derived from his insecurities, not actual biphobia- not that that makes it ok) is something he grows out of and end up accepting Magnus completely, Clary learn to be able to be friends with females, jace grows and becomes less of an asshole (which was bc of the abuse he received as a child) and so on and so forth. The books are, imo, very realistic. It makes me happy that they all had flaws and they grow as they age (2/2)

Hey! So yeah I've read the books and honestly Alec is biphobic. 100%

Flaws is me being stubborn or me being uncommunicative. Flaws is me being insecure about past lovers or even getting a bit jealous.

Flaws isn’t me having an active problem with my partners sexuality or their sexual history and constantly questioning them about it.

In the books alec actively states that nothing surprises him with the way Magnus got around before him. He embarrasses his partner in front of other people or do we forget the famous Jordan Kyle scene where Alec accuses him of wanting to flirt, and then accuses him of maybe actually wanting to flirt with women since “ is there anything you aren’t into.” Every time Magnus speaks about someone he knew from his past Alec asks him if he slept with them. Like come on now???

Other things that make the books just intolerable to me is the fact that Maia gets back with her abuser. Or that Simon is a cheater and never really suffers consequences or is called out on that behavior except for a slight moment.

If you liked the books like that fine? I’m not going to argue on that people like what they like and we like different things. But to say that book alec isn’t biphobic, that's a stretch

[afincf-tirwer]

Clary Fray Hate

I mean honestly, I just don't like Clary. Like I just never got invested in her story (in the books). I felt she never really moved forward because she just dug her heels in and refused to budge. And YES! That is an interesting character flaw because that's a nice way to set up conflicts and her learning that she needs to be a bit more flexible but it never seemed to happen. There were so many instances where she just hurled herself into danger and then was confused as to why people were angry at her, i.e she made her own portal to Idris, she went to the battle at the Iron Sister’s citadel, her and Jace never told anyone he died because...reasons? She was just so blindly sure that she was right and everyone who wanted to stop her was in the wrong and wanted to stop her from achieving her goals.

I mean that whole thing where she ran off and hung around Jace and Sebastian...my god...what are you doing? Your whole safety line was Simon. I like Simon, he’s a much more enjoyable character but honestly what is he going to be able to do other than alert someone and while that would be able to send her help, there would be a lapse in time and honestly even with her safety line that whole plan was dumb as hell. Clary just irritated me every time she entered the spotlight when she was playing support I loved her, it was great (most of the time). Her relationship with Luke, Isabelle, Simon, all excellent, especially her taking no bullshit after Simon was turned into a vampire by actively fighting against the prejudices and refusing to accept that “This is the way” deflections that were thrown at her, banter with Magnus, wonderful! Clary stepping up into a combat situation that she has no experience in and no permission for...no thanks. But honestly I really really loved her interactions with Luke and the way she provided support for all her friends, got over her initial wary feelings towards Isabelle, desperately tried to reassure Jace and save him but whenever she stepped up into the main role as the hero protagonist I just got bored.

Honestly, I think she would have done better as the healer and the one who designs new Marks to better help in combat. Actually yeah I would have preferred that there were already so many warriors and those who were trained in combat, the main protagonist being on the sidelines in a war? Having to watch her loved ones, her friends, her family, risking their lives and waiting for them to return, spending her time desperately hoping that they’d return alive, hating herself a little because she cannot aid the same way they can...honestly I would have preferred that for Clary. You could still have her stubbornness to assist in combat as well just you know...in circumstances where lack of combat skills should conceivably get you killed. Injuring herself in an attempt to train harder, longer, better, being sneered at by others who deride what she brings to the table, namely better Marks, ones that will save lives and help the Shadowhunters fight better. Coming to the realisation that she contributes far more than she knows and is capable of so many things that help her family fight better, even if she’s not on the battlefield she is playing her role and just because she cannot fight against Valentine and Sebastian directly, she is still contributing to taking them down.

I guess I’m just sick of the warrior female, don’t get me wrong I love it, but here I just think that the contrast of these hardened warriors and then having the “odd one out” so to speak who doesn’t fight in combat but is not weak and kicks ass at her own role and takes no shit about it. Also I would have loved to see Isabelle or Jace or Alec being adamant that they weren’t hurt and Clary just gives them a lecture about how this is her infirmary and if you’re brought here that means you have to abide by her rules and that you can sit your ass down right now, and then they just slink back to the bed and sit compliantly. That image is just hilarious. Plus, healer!Clary would bring in all this opportunity for heartfelt bedside moments and Clary having to handle her emotions when she gets her next patient and she sees one of her family members injured and she wants to run over there, check them over but her duty and yeah...I’d just love that.

[dream-dove]

“Your peace is just empty air to me uncle. When you do bear your claws I will be ready to defeat you. One thing we share in common ground is our distrust of one another. Mark these words. Your life will end by my blade.”Jace express with a calm tone, yet his words were like venom to impose his stance between the two.

continued | @dream-dove

Within his head, the words came freely without no hesitation. And yet when it was time to face Aemond in reality the words felt tongue twisted. Jace’s eyes burned with dislike towards his uncle, fists tight closed as if the urge to punch was becoming stronger. “Seeing you here Uncle baffles me. A thorn in my side that keeps aching me. But then again I can assume the feeling is mutual here. But even so, there is a difference here Uncle. I am not a sore loser like you and that will be your downfall.”

Aemond smirked at him. Anyone else might have taken it for urbane, tolerant. Jace should have known better, that it was just bordering a challenge. 

“Baffles you?” Aemond repeated, light eyebrows shooting up (one still obscured by his eyepatch). “Dear nephew, I suppose you’ve forgotten I live in the Red Keep. Have you been away so very long.” He held up his hand. “Peace, young prince, I’m not prepared to cut you down just yet.”

[tinylilemrys]

The Gift of Choice (3/4)

Read it on AO3

Rating: T || Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Summary: Neither Alec nor Magnus is particularly thrilled at the discovery of their soul marks. Alec because he knows that the design of it means that his soulmate is a Downworlder, something practically unheard of in Shadowhunter society. For Magnus, the idea of being permanently attached to a joyless demon-killer is hardly a thrill. Given that they can choose if they accept their soulmate or not, the decision seems like a no-brainer.

But when Alec finally meets the beautiful, other-worldly Magnus and Magnus meets the gorgeous, self-sacrificing Alec, it becomes clear that the decision might not be as easy as they thought it would be.

CHAPTERS: ONE || TWO

CHAPTER THREE

“Cream or sugar?”

Alec’s eyes snap open at the tinkling sound of a tray being set down.

His heart races, the pulse of it matching the painful throbbing in his temples, and his mouth feels dry and ashy like he’s swallowed sawdust. Light is streaming in from large windows beside him and he squints as he sits up.

He’s not at the Institute.

The last time woke up somewhere that wasn’t the Institute was when he was a child, before Jace came to live with them, when his mother and father had brought Isabelle and him with them on a short diplomatic visit. Even though at the time he was fascinated by how different the Buenos Aires Institute was to theirs, now blinking blearily out at what he’s slowly remembering as Magnus Bane’s apartment, he realises that the differences between the two Institutes weren’t that great after all. This bright, airy room with its trendy furnishings and exposed brick is a far cry from the cold stone and dim light that both Institutes had sported.

He’s not sure if the horrible roiling of his stomach is the alcohol, or anxiety at what his parents would think if they found out that he’d spent the night in a Downworlder’s lair.

“Did I fall asleep?” he asks, not really knowing what else to say. Magnus is barely two feet away from him and he can feel that strange electricity – Magnus’ magic – crackling between them again.

“We both did,” he replies as he sits down next to him. Alec feels a fleeting need to stand up, to put as much distance between them as possible, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by the much stronger desire to bask in the strange force between them. He stays, but tries to lean as far from Magnus as he can without it looking like that’s what he’s doing. Sensing Alec’s discomfort though, Magnus adds, “On separate couches. Don’t worry.”

“Oh,” says Alec, staring at the vase of pink roses on the table in front of him, wondering if it was there the night before. He can’t remember it being there the night before.

But then, he was slightly distracted last night.

Though he can’t remember much after the third or fourth cocktail Magnus made, he clearly remembers the events before that: the powerful connection between them as Alec had shared his energy with Magnus, the giddy thrill of pressing a kiss to the Warlock’s forehead, the heart-stopping brush of their lips a few moments later, the mingled disappointment and relief when his phone had interrupted them.

And then there was Magnus asking him to stay for one more drink, then another and another until the room span and conversation flowed effortlessly between them. He wasn’t sure how much of it was down to the alcohol and how much of it was down to the disarming manner of the Warlock on the other end of the couch.

“Your defences seem to have slipped a bit,” says Magnus after a few moments of awkward silence, startling Alec from his jumbled thoughts. He glances at Magnus, expecting to meet his eyes, but the Warlock is looking at Alec’s knees where a small sliver of brilliant white light is shining through the dark fabric of his jeans. His bandages must have slid down his leg as he slept. He glances at Magnus’ knee where his mark is also forcing its light through the weave of his jeans, but the fact that it is showing doesn’t seem to bother Magnus. He regards Alec for a moment before speaking again. “How much do you actually understand about this situation, Alexander?”

“A bit, most of it from stories my tutor told us as kids,” Alec replied. “You know, that the Angel shows you when you find the person you’re supposed to be with forever by marking you both with the Destiny Rune on corresponding parts of your body, but that sometimes the person the Angel chooses for you is a Downworlder and then you get your mark long before you meet them as a warning. My mother always said they were just stories, but,” he gestures to his and Magnus’ knees, “apparently not.”

“Oh Maryse,” Magnus sighs and Alec is temporarily taken aback by the fact that Magnus seems to know his mother’s name. He doesn’t think he’s ever mentioned his parents by name, but then, they were the leaders of the New York Institute and Magnus was the High Warlock of Brooklyn. They probably knew Magnus better than Alec did.

“Well, you seem to know some of the mechanics of it, but there’s a lot more to it than that. You obviously know about the glowing that indicates how close you are to meeting your Fated? Witchlight means that both the Shadowhunter and Downworlder have acknowledged that they share their mark. You and I both acknowledge that this is what the Angel wills.”

“Magnus, I –“

“I don’t think that you know that you have a choice, though. See, your Angel recognises that this is a difficult path for a Shadowhunter and Downworlder to follow, so if either feels as though they would rather not take the risk, they can choose not to pursue it. If either the Shadowhunter or Downworlder refuses the bond, the marks disappear and life goes back to the way it was before.”

Alec is surprised at the relief that fills him at Magnus’ words. He was so sure that there was no escaping this – that even if he ignored his confusing feelings for Magnus and followed his parents’ wishes to marry a good Shadowhunter girl, the mark would always be there, reminding him that he was living a lie, reminding him that he was destined to be connected to the Downworld. The fact that he can decide against it, that it could disappear and he could live a relatively normal life is an unexpected and welcome surprise.

But then he looks at Magnus again and his thoughts stop in their tracks. He remembers how beautiful and right it felt to have his arms roped around him, how perfectly Magnus fit there. He thinks about how Magnus takes him at face value, but also seems to always look deeper to what’s underneath. How Magnus never makes him feel like he has anything to prove and yet, how Alec wants to prove himself anyway.

Would it really be that easy to give all that up?

It feels like all the air has left the room and Alec finds it suddenly difficult to breathe. He needs to leave. He needs space and time to think and it’s impossible to do with Magnus right there, looking at him so sincerely with that young, almost innocent face and old, unfathomably wise eyes.

He springs from the couch to get his jacket, his stomach lurching violently as he does, but he manages to keep it together. Just.

“God, I should have never taken you up on your offer for drinks,” Alec groans, shrugging on his jacket as gently as he can.

“In hindsight, liquor might have been a bad idea after being drained of all my magic to heal your friend, Luke,” Magnus replies, and Alec is sure he’s not imagining the testiness in his tone.

“Not my friend,” he says, striding towards the door. “He’s Clary Fairchild’s. I’ve only known her five days and she’s already more trouble than she’s worth.”

Magnus’ eyes scan him in a calculated way as if working out how to unravel a stubborn knot, and Alec feels strangely exposed. He’s so used to being transparent – to having people’s gaze flit quickly over him to settle on Isabelle or Jace. Magnus, however, makes him feel completely opaque – as if his entire field of vision stops at Alec. As if, sometimes, nothing else exists. It sends an involuntary thrill down Alec’s spine.

“Alexander,” Magnus eventually says in a gentle but firm voice that reminds Alec that he’s actually speaking to the High Warlock of Brooklyn, “I understand that this situation can’t be easy for you. I know that you have feelings for someone else and duties as a leader and societal norms to live up to, so I completely understand if you’re not up to all of whatever this is. Whatever your decision, I will accept it. Provided, however, that you do me one favour.”

“Okay?” Alec replies, his voice strangely hoarse.

“I only ask that you take time to really think about it before you make your decision. I’ve taken time to thoughtfully consider my feelings on the matter, so I expect the same courtesy from you. Whatever you choose is final and affects both of us so I would ask that, as far as possible, you try to make sure that you understand your heart, what it is that you want and why you want it. Maybe try not to be the selfless hero on this one.”

Alec doesn’t know what to respond to that. He honestly doesn’t know at this point if it would be more selfish to choose Magnus or not to choose him. And how is he supposed to understand his heart when everything he’s ever felt or known his whole life has been completely upended in less than a week?

He needs to get back to the Institute. He needs logic and familiarity, to be somewhere where the air isn’t full of the scent of coffee and roses and citrusy cologne. He needs the world to make sense again.

“What time is it? I need to get back to the institute,” he informs Magnus as he takes a step towards the door, choosing to change the subject rather than to acknowledge his request.

“Stay for breakfast,” Magnus blurts out suddenly as if the previous conversation didn’t happen. “Or at least a hangover cure? I brew a mean hair-of-the-dog potion.”

“When you say hair-of-the-dog,” says Alec, unable to suppress his curiosity, “that’s not literal, is it? It’s not full of, I don’t know, Werewolf hair or something like that, right?”

“It might be more than a little bit literal,” Magnus replies with a sheepish grin.

“In that case, I think I’ll pass.” Alec can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to look Magnus in the eyes again. “Don’t tell anyone I stayed here last night, alright? If anyone finds out, I –“

“Relax.” Magnus rolls his eyes. “My reputation is just as much on the line as yours. Things aren’t exactly cosy between the Nephilim and my kind at the moment.”

“Why’d you let me sleep here then?” asks Alec.

“Because, Alexander Lightwood, soul-mark or not, I find that I quite enjoy the time I spend with you. Call me crazy.”

“You must be,” says Alec, smile still in place as he leaves Magnus’ apartment.

Alec’s plan is to get back to the Institute and up to his room before anyone can ask him any questions about where he was last night. He’s not entirely surprised, however, that he’s caught by Isabelle almost as soon as he’s through the door.

“Slept at Magnus’ place?” she asks, her face a strange mixture of amusement and pride.

“Didn’t do much sleeping,” Alec replies. Isabelle’s eyes widen in amazement and realising how that must have sounded, he quickly adds, “I was helping treat Luke’s wounds, that’s all.”

“Really?” Her smile spreads into a gleeful smirk.

“What?” he asks as innocently as he can.

“Nothing. I believe you.”

He knows her well enough to know that she really doesn’t.

“Okay, Magnus made cocktails, but I’m telling you that nothing else happened.”

“Your lips say otherwise,” she says, gesturing to his mouth. He swipes a hand across it and upon examination, he’s horrified to find several specs of glitter shining up at him. Isabelle folds her arms. “Look, Alec, whenever you’re ready to talk about what you need to talk about, I’m here.”

“Hey, I talk to you,” says Alec indignantly.

“About everything but your personal life,” she replies. “And, you know, it’s kind of not fair because I talk to you about mine all the time. You’re the only person I can talk to about mine most of the time.”

It turns out Isabelle has broken up with Meliorn because of their parents and Alec take this as a sign that the hunt for their spouses has started in earnest. The mark just below his sister’s ribs means that she’s not destined to be with a Shadowhunter man though, and when he brings it up she shudders.

“I texted Magnus about it and he says that the shape of my mark means that my Fated is a Vamp. It hasn’t started glowing yet, so my first thought was that the other day at the Hotel Dumort it might have been one of the Vamps we killed, but apparently the mark disappears if your fated dies. Still, it made me realise that maybe it’s stupid to worry about falling in love with a Downworlder when everything between our people is so strained at the moment.”

Alec’s heart constricts painfully. The thing he’s always admired the most about his little sister is her idealism and her drive to follow her heart no matter how much it goes against everything they’ve been taught. He hates that she feels like she has to suppress that to protect him. That’s what he’s supposed to be doing by sticking to the rules.

“Izzy, I realise that you’re trying to take some of the family heat and I appreciate it,” he says, “but you can’t change who you are.”

He won’t let her change. If it comes to choosing between his sister’s happiness and his, he knows hers will win every time.

Unbidden, Magnus’ words swim to the surface of Alec’s mind.

“Maybe try not to be the selfless hero on this one.”

He’s not sure he’ll have the choice.

***

In theory, Magnus spends the next day or two sending fire messages to his fellow Warlocks – reminding them again to be prepared to escape quickly and to fight to defend their covens if necessary – while also meditating to regain the last of his power. In reality, he spends the majority of his time trying to suppress the nagging fear that at any moment, Alec will choose to reject the mark to comply with the unfair societal standards demanded of him by his parents and the Clave.

He knows that what he’s feeling isn’t actually love, that after barely a week there’s no way it could be, but he also knows that he deeply cares for Alec and that losing the opportunity for that caring to maybe one day turn into love would create a chasm in his life he doesn’t think he’ll be able to ever fix.

Magnus jumps when his phone rings and his heart rate quickens when he recognises the number for the Institute. Worried that any communication with Alec might drive him closer to the Clave, he’s resisted the urge to call or text him all day. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Alec might call him. He’s about to answer the phone with a ‘Hi, Alexander’ but catches himself at the last minute. If it ends up being Maryse or Robert on the other end, he could end up making Alec’s life really difficult.

It’s just as well he answers with his usual ‘Magnus Bane?’, because it’s an unfamiliar female voice that greets him.

“Magnus Bane, you’re speaking to Lydia Branwell, Envoy from the Clave.”

“Wow, a Branwell? It’s been many years since I last had dealings with anyone by that name,” says Magnus, walking absent-mindedly to his balcony. “Any relation to Henry?”

“He’s my great-ancestor,” Lydia replies, the pride evident in her voice.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Magnus smiles. For a time, Henry Branwell was one of his closest friends and it’s bittersweet to have this tentative connection to him again so many years later. “How can I help you? I’m assuming this isn’t a social call.”

“We need your help in detecting if magic was used to create the creature that was sent to attack Lucian Graymark earlier today. Would you be available to assist with the autopsy?”

“I’m rather busy today,” Magnus lies, “but I suppose I could make it sometime later this afternoon. What kind of creatures are we dealing with?”

“We’re not sure at this stage, but we suspect they’re Forsaken,” says Lydia. “I’ve never seen any this corrupted before though. It looks like its rotting alive.”

“Ah,” says Magnus, already almost gagging as he imagines the smell. “Well, you can expect me a few hours from now. Will we be discussing payment before or after dealing with the hulking slab of rotting Forsaken?”

“I, unfortunately, won’t be able to assist you with the examination as I’m tied up with my duties to the Clave,” says Lydia, “but I can assure you that you will be paid handsomely for your assistance. One of our Shadowhunters will be examining the creature with you in my place.”

Though he knows that it could be any number of Shadowhunters from the Institute, he knows that there’s every chance he might get to work with Alec. The thought of spending time with him again makes the prospect of poking around a rotting corpse slightly more bearable.

In the end it’s not Alec, but Isabelle, who he ends up working with. Biting back a small amount of disappointment, Magnus decides to thank his lucky stars that at least it’s not Jace. He actually quite enjoys Isabelle’s company. She’s young, but she has a sharp head on her shoulders and seems to get him in a way that not many people do. When she greets him in the autopsy room, she seems genuinely pleased to see him, as if greeting a friend. And as he smiles warmly back, he decides that that’s because they are.

The young Lightwoods have been very bad for his negative view of Shadowhunters.

The Forsaken smells just as bad as he imagined it would. Its rotting skin is bloated and yellow, with dark purple bruises and lacerations littered across its surface and though Magnus should be used to this kind of thing after several centuries, his stomach churns unpleasantly.

Deciding that the sooner he examines the damn thing the sooner he can leave the room, Magnus sets to work, arching his hand fluidly over the body to create a field of blue magic. He scans the Forsaken from top to bottom several times, searching a layer deeper each time he does. He learned the hard way many years ago that going straight for the core was a terrible idea. Back then, he didn’t quite have the hang of appearance spells and it took him several weeks of hats worn at jaunty angles to grow his eyebrows back. He’s learned since that it’s far better to start at the surface and search gradually deeper.

He decides, wryly, that it getting to know Alec layer by layer might also be a good way to approach whatever it is between them. If Magnus goes straight for Alec’s core, it could end up backfiring horribly.

To Magnus’ relief, the Forsaken is clear of magic thus far, and he feels himself relax as he approaches the last few layers. His eyebrows will likely be safe this time.

“You almost done?” asks Isabelle, striding over to him, her heels clicking on the stone tiled floor.

“Patience is a virtue, my dear,” says Magnus as he finally searches the core to find that, besides a few slight traces of external magical interference, the Forsaken seems to have been biologically created.

“Come on, I want to get my hands on that thing.” Her eyes glitter with an intrigue and delight that amuses and alarms him. He hasn’t met many people this keen to poke around at rotting flesh, but then, he doesn’t know all that many Shadowhunters.

“Speaking of which,” he says, pouring a bit more energy into his final few sweeps now that he knows that it’s safe to do so, “how is Alexander? I was hoping I might hear from him.”

“Putrefaction,” says Isabelle, wrinkling her nose, “it’s decomposing.”

He gets the sense that she’s avoiding the question, but if she thinks he’s backing down, she’s clearly never encountered a Warlock who’s lived for hundreds of years.

“It’s just sometimes so hard to tell if Alec is actually interested. I mean, I can’t fathom why he wouldn’t be.”

Isabelle huffs out a small laugh.

“I don’t know if you noticed but my brother is not exactly warm and fuzzy.”

“Hmm, I suppose,” Magnus sighs. When he actually thinks about it, he realises that Alec’s had a lot on his plate these last few days. It’s hardly surprising that he hasn’t had much time to think about the soul marks. The fact that he’d been able to find time for their cocktails a few nights ago was a miracle in itself.

“Magnus,” says Isabelle in a gentle tone that he hasn’t heard her use before and indeed didn’t know she was capable of, “I know you’re interested in Alec, and I’m so thankful that you are – he’s needed someone to show him that he’s handsome and interesting and all the other things he’s somehow managed to convince himself that he’s not. But he’s got a lot going on right now. I don’t know if he’s talked to you about it, but he’s got this soul mark and it’s been a difficult thing for him to process so…”

She glances up at Magnus and he smiles at her until the realisation dawns on her face.

“By the Angel! You’re his Fated, aren’t you?” she whispers excitedly. “I thought you might be, but I wasn’t sure if you were just flirting with him because you just thought he was cute or whatever and… oh god that… that complicates things.”

“How so?” Magnus asks, not liking the way her face suddenly drops.

“Our parents,” she explains. “They’re trying to find him a wife.”

Magnus feels as though he’s been struck squarely in the chest with a powerful blow. While he knows that Alec is under serious societal pressure, he didn’t think it was as bad as an arranged marriage. He can’t imagine someone who embodies control as much as Alec does would be happy with having any aspect of his life planned for him, but at the same time, he can definitely imagine a scared, selfless and deeply miserable Alec marking his happiness away in a ceremony to make everyone else happy.

“Sorry,” says Isabelle, her eyes reflecting his disappointment.

“It’s quite alright,” says Magnus, trying to feign casualness. “I suppose Alec is just following his duty.”

“Not everyone gets the luxury of following their heart.”

Her tone is suddenly bitter and acidic and Magnus wonders if Alec isn’t the only one being dragged into the family politics.

“What about you?” he asks, watching her as she examines the creature. “You were all set on following yours, weren’t you?”

“My mark has disappeared,” she says shortly. “Seems kind of pointless to look for something that’s not there, no?”

“Isabelle, I’m so sorry,” he says. His worst fear at the moment is the thought of waking up to find his mark gone; knowing it would either mean that Alec has refused the bond or, worse, that he was…

“It’s okay,” she says. “I mean, I never met him so I suppose there’s not much to be sad about.”

Magnus isn’t sure what to say to that. If Isabelle was a Downworlder, he would know how to comfort her, how to coach her through her disappointment, how to remind her that ultimately this path is far easier. Isabelle is a Shadowhunter though, and more than that, she’s a Lightwood. He honestly can’t tell what she’s feeling right now.

With an unsettling disappointment creeping into his thoughts and the uncomfortable silence in the room growing, Magnus excuses himself to deliver the preliminary reports to the Lightwoods.

He’s making his way through the Operations Room towards the head office when he’s stopped in his tracks by a powerful wave of anger. It feels strange though, not quite right, like wearing his shoes on opposite feet and he realises with a jolt that the anger isn’t his. It’s another side effect of the soul bond, which means there’s only one person the anger can belong to. His eyes scan the room and finally land on Alec. He’s on one of the raised platforms that surround the high-tech operational equipment and is furiously attacking a punching bag. Shirtless.

Magnus decides then that it would be far more convenient (and enjoyable) to hand Alec the reports than having to trudge all the way to the head office.

He only seems to become more magnificent the closer Magnus gets. His toned muscles ripple with every strike he lands and the sweat pouring down his marked skin catches the colourful light from the stained-glass window behind him. He can suddenly understand that Shadowhunters are half angelic. Alec is breathtakingly beautiful.

Magnus’ sense of Alec’s anger disappears and is suddenly replaced with a jumble of indiscernible emotions as he notices him.

“Magnus,” he says, pausing his training to look at him inquisitively.

He knows that he should probably stop staring, but it seems to be impossible to look anywhere but the vast expanse of chest in front of him. With immense difficulty, he shakes himself back to reality, his heart thudding painfully against his ribcage.

“Okay. I’m back,” he says and though Alec regards him with a serious expression, Magnus can sense that part of him is pleased with the attention. Even so, he stalks past Magnus to pull on a shirt. “Oh, you don’t have to get dressed up for me.”

Alec pulls on his shirt regardless.

“Fine, but I like what I saw,” huffs Magnus, deciding the only way to deal with the sudden rush of being confronted with a post-workout Alec is to lean into it and flirt his way out. “I have the preliminary autopsy findings.”

“Why are you giving these to me?” he asks as he takes the folder from Magnus. He can’t help but notice that though Alec has pulled on his shirt, he hasn’t fastened it and Magnus wonders if Alec has left it open on purpose. “It should go to the Head of the Institute.”

“And it is,” Magnus replies, his brow creasing in confusion as Alec tosses the folder onto a nearby bench.

“I’m not,” he shrugs. “And I never will be.”

For the second time that day, Magnus isn’t sure how to respond to a Shadowhunter. He can understand Alec’s need for responsibility – it’s a fundamental part of him. What he can’t understand is the drive to work for the antiquated and bureaucratic hell that is the Clave. Instead of a reply, Magnus looks him right in the eyes to show him that he’s listening. That he’s paying attention.

“Magnus, it’s like… it’s like my whole life has been a lie. Everything I’ve ever known is not –“

“It’s not what you thought.” He senses something dark and furious boil to the surface of Alec’s feelings and beneath it a deep and unexplainable hurt. Whatever Alec is going through is deeper than simply the demands his parents are making of him. What Alec is feeling is a fundamental betrayal and Magnus wonders if it has anything to do with the Lightwoods’ involvement with the Circle.

“I’ve done everything for my parents, for the Clave, and...” Alec trails off as if trying to find adequate words to express what he’s experiencing. “See, I’ve done everything that they’ve asked.”

“Maybe you should start living for yourself,” says Magnus gently. “Do what’s in your heart.”

It seems like such a simple thing, but Magnus is realising more and more as he gets to know Alec that Alec has likely never made a big decision that was purely for his own benefit. Magnus has never had any trouble with that; hedonism is sometimes the only way to cope with the loneliness of immortality. Hell, even his suggestion that Alec follow his heart isn’t entirely selfless, if he’s honest. Magnus is hoping that part of Alec following his heart would be that Alec would choose him. That he would choose what they could have together.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he says after a pause, regarding Magnus seriously, “but I think you’re right.”

And somehow after the crushing blow of Isabelle’s revelation earlier, Magnus finds hope bubbling up inside him again.

“Well, in that case, my work here is done,” he smiles, retrieving the folder from where Alec tossed it. “I suppose I’ll just deliver this to the head office and be on my way.”

“I can take it,” says Alec, the corners of his mouth perking up in an involuntary smile. “You know, save you a trip?”

“Thank you, Alexander.”

And with one last warm smile, Magnus makes his way back to the Operations Room, hoping the spring in his step is just metaphorical.

***

The idea has been rolling around in his head since Lydia arrived, but it’s only after Magnus’ encouragement and the weird unfamiliar hope he felt while talking to him that it actually begins to take root.

He knows his mother and father won’t approve. They feel threatened by Lydia and Alec supposes that they have reason to be. He doesn’t, however, feel any need to take their opinion on the matter into account. He’s doing this for them and whether they agree with his methods or not is their problem. It’s their fault that he has to make these kinds of decisions in the first place. The betrayal he feels at the discovery that his parents are ex-Circle members is still fresh and raw, and the salt in the wound is that the reason he’s been trained to be such a textbook-perfect Shadowhunter his entire life is to cover up for their mistakes.

Not anymore.

The thought that sprung into his mind that morning – the thought that even if his responsibilities wouldn’t allow him to marry someone he loved, he might at least be able marry someone he understood and respected – is now a fully-formed plan and each step he takes towards Lydia’s office is spurred on by his duty, his desire for his sister to just be herself again, the painful finality of Jace and Clary kissing, Magnus’ gentle and understanding encouragement and, more than anything, he’s spurred on by his need to be seen, to be taken seriously and to be counted as someone with something important to contribute.

Alec is surprisingly calm throughout the short conversation. He expects to be more nervous as he explains his thinking to her, expects to stammer and trip over his words, but there’s no fear – just a steely determination that this is the right thing. Just over a minute after walking into her office, Alec asks Lydia Branwell to marry him. She accepts his proposal, but Alec tells her to sleep on it and let him know what she thinks in the morning. It’s a life-changing decision so Alec wants to be certain that he’s given her enough time to weigh up the pros and cons.

He’s heading back to check on Isabelle in the lab and say goodnight to her when he hears the sounds of a scuffle coming from the Training Area. He knows that Hodge mentioned that he was going to be training, but Alec is definitely hearing two distinct sets of footsteps and grunts. And while there’s every chance that Hodge might be training with someone, Alec has long since learned to err on the side of caution.

He makes his way as stealthily as possible to the Weapons Area to pick up his bow and quiver and he’s glad he does.

A Forsaken is looming over a prone Hodge with a spiked club. Alec draws his bow without a second’s hesitation and a moment later, his arrow buries itself in the creature’s shoulder. The Forsaken turns to face him, clumsily advancing on him, and Alec manages to send another arrow straight into the creature’s chest. It doesn’t seem to have any effect other than making the creature angry and Alec doesn’t have time to duck the massive blow to his side. As he lies sprawled on the floor, ribs throbbing, he’s unprepared for the agony of his arm being torn open by the club’s sharp spike.

Through his pain, he’s vaguely aware of Hodge attacking the Forsaken from behind, the creature crashing to the ground and Isabelle’s worried voice as she rushes over to him.

He’s also aware of an intense and powerful feeling of fear and, though he has no idea how, he knows it’s not his own. It doesn’t seem to fit right, and he’s sure that it’s someone else who’s afraid, that he’s just experiencing it.

Then he blacks out.

When he wakes up, the first thing he notices is a soft gold glow somewhere to the left of him. For a moment, he thinks it might be his bedside lamp, but it’s warmer and richer than any electrical light he’s ever seen. As he blinks and the world comes back into focus he realises the light is coming from Isabelle’s side. In his surprise, he tries to scramble up in bed, wincing in pain as he remembers why he’s waking up.

“Izzy, your –“

But Isabelle is gently pushing him back down to the bed. He sees now that he’s in the Infirmary and the mingled smell of blood and disinfectant bring him sharply back to reality. The Forsaken, Hodge, the weird sensation of feeling someone else’s fear all come flooding back to him and to make matters worse, his sister’s soul mark is now glowing gold. She’s met her Fated.

“Shh, you need to rest, big brother.”

“No, Izzy, your mark. It’s… it’s…”

“You don’t need to worry about my mark anymore, Alec,” she says, smoothing his hair away from his face. “It’s gone. It’s not there anymore.”

“No, Iz, it’s glowing.” Alec gestures to the spot where the light is cutting through the dark blue of her dress. She glances down at it and her eyes widen in shock. A moment later she gasps.

“Oh my god – Simon,” she says.

“Simon? As in the Mundy?” asks Alec, confused.

“I don’t think he’s a Mundy anymore,” she says softly, covering her side with her hand as she slips on her discarded lab coat. “Clary must have chosen to bring him back. Oh my god, Alec, I was trying to convince her to stake his heart. What if she’d actually staked his heart? If he’s my Fated that means the Angel chose him – that there’s something the Angel wants him to do. And there I was trying to convince her to kill him.”

“Hey, you didn’t know,” he says, reaching out to take her hand. “And besides, it’s your job to discourage violent Downworlder conversions. You were just following your duty as a Shadowhunter.”

“And what about my duty as a human being?” Isabelle’s eyes are shining with a strange emotion Alec has never seen there before, and he’s struck suddenly with how grown up she is and how in so many ways, she’s so much more mature than him. She gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll let Dad know you’re awake.”

As the sound of Isabelle’s heels grows fainter, Alec begins feeling the same fear he felt before he passed out, and mixed with his own confusion, his head is beginning to spin.

You’re fine, he tells himself. You’re going to be patched up and then everything is going to be fine.

A moment later, a feeling of euphoric relief washes over him, even causing a small huff of laughter to escape his lips, and it occurs to Alec that this might be another soulmate thing – that it might be Magnus’ worry and relief he’s sensing. Far from comforting him, the thought causes a knot of anxiety to form at the pit of his stomach. If Alec can feel what Magnus is feeling, there’s every chance that Magnus can feel what Alec is feeling, and it could only serve to make this whole situation way more complicated than it already is.

The next few hours find Alec experiencing the most frustration he’s ever been subjected to in his entire life. He knows that it was necessary for Magnus to return to secure the wards, but having to deal with the complication that is Magnus on top of all the stress of the last night is threatening to send him to his breaking point. It’s impossible to concentrate on concealing his emotions while experiencing the rollercoaster of Magnus’. And while Alec is beginning to suspect that he can only pick up on Magnus’ strongest emotions, his problem is that Magnus seems to have nothing but strong emotions.

He’s not surprised to find that Magnus really doesn’t like his father. Waves of disgust and contempt that aren’t his roll through Alec as Magnus patches up the broken wards in the Ops Room. Alec wonders how much of it is because of his father’s involvement with the Circle and how much of it is because of his general distrust of Shadowhunters. Not that he should be wondering. In fact, he should be actively trying to not think about Magnus. He’s getting married. The time for entertaining thoughts about being with the Warlock is over.

After a brief and tense discussion about the effectiveness of Magnus’ wards, Robert Lightwood stalks off, leaving Alec alone with Magnus. Well, not alone. Alec is keenly aware of the many eyes in the room below that are trained on Magnus. It’s not every day that they have a Warlock at the Institute and certainly not one with a reputation like the High Warlock of Brooklyn’s. That’s what makes him pull violently away from Magnus when he offers to help heal Alec’s Forsaken wound. Warlocks aren’t known to voluntarily help Shadowhunters and Alec shudders to think of the rumours that would circulate if anyone were to see them.

Alec’s sense of Magnus’ hurt and confusion mingles with his own anger and frustration and he’s never wanted to be anyone else more than he does right now.

“If anything were to happen to you…” says Magnus, softly. His cold hurt is tinged with something warmer – caring and concern – and Alec resists the temptation to let that warmth spread through his emotions too.

“Why is this happening?” he demands of Magnus instead, brows creased. “Why am I suddenly feeling what you’re feeling?”

“Misericordia,” Magnus explains, “the empathy tether. In the same way that Habebat allows us to combine our abilities and Impetus allows us to share energy, Misericordia allows us to feel what the other is feeling. Because Downworlders and Nephilim come from vastly different worlds, it’s supposed to help a Fated pair form a greater understanding of each other so that their choice is more informed.”

“Great, another gift from the Angel,” says Alec bitterly. He glances around to see if anyone is paying attention to their conversation and is unsurprised to find several people throwing furtive glances at the two of them. It sets Alec even more on edge. He can’t risk anyone finding out about Magnus and him. Not now that he’s so close to fixing everything that Clary and Jace and his parents have broken.

“Alexander,” says Magnus, taking a step towards him and Alec moves back.

“Magnus I’m…” He tries to tell him about Lydia and their engagement, but as he catches Magnus’ eye, the words stick in his throat. He can see the centuries of well-worn pain and disappointment in the Warlock’s eyes, but there’s something new and uncharted there too – something strangely vulnerable. Alec knows he has to get out of there before another moment of weakness. “I.. I’ve got to –“

“Go?” Magnus supplies. His voice falsely cheery and Alec tries not to think about how he picks up on that. “Of course – you’re a busy man, and I should find this Lydia person. Payment up front is just smart business. Where might I find her?”

“I haven’t seen her,” says Alec bluntly, “but if I do I’ll send her your way.”

He can’t be around Magnus anymore. Being close to someone as warm and exciting and beautiful as Magnus, being so close to starting something that he suspects would change his life for the better, but knowing that he can’t pursue it because his happiness would come at the cost of his family’s was too painful. Far more painful than the gash in his arm.

He remembers his first big injury. He was five and was prone to running where he should have been walking. As a result, he slipped down a flight of stairs, breaking his leg. He was too young then to be marked with an Irazte, and he remembers trying to bravely fight back his tears while Hodge and one of the nursing sisters tended to him.

“Where does it hurt?” Hodge asked while the nurse looked at his leg.

“Nowhere,” Alec replied. “I’m a Shadowhunter.”

“You’re really brave,” smiled Hodge, “but can I tell you a secret? Even Shadowhunters get hurt.”

“But I thought they were warriors,” said Alec.                                                         

“They are,” said Hodge. “The thing about pain though, Alec, is that it’s a gift. It’s a messenger that tells you when something is wrong so that you can fix it.”

Hodge’s words ring in Alec’s years now, over fifteen years later. If the decisions he’s making about Magnus are painful, surely that’s a sign that he needs to fix it? Maybe not being able to escape the way avoiding Magnus felt like a physical ache meant that he was on the wrong track?

The thought is gone by the time he gets to the training area a few minutes later. Alec’s plan will ensure that his family will be protected, that Lydia will get her chance to run an Institute and that Isabelle can go back to being herself. His plan will ensure that he will be able to start a good family, one that will be recognised and respected by the Clave.

Alec knows that if he’s choosing this, he has to refuse the soul bond.

Since now is as good a time as any, he sits down on one of the nearby benches and wonders if there’s a specific way he needs to go about it, any specific phrase he needs to recite or posture he needs to assume. Eventually, he decides that placing a hand over his mark and simply addressing the Angel with his request is probably a safe bet.

But for some reason, though the words are on the tip of his tongue, he can’t go through with it.

Instead, he gets up and begins his training, hoping that the physical activity will push any and all thoughts from his mind.

***

They’ve taken Meliorn to the City of Bones and though Magnus is furious, he isn’t that surprised. The Clave has never been big on taking time to gather the necessary evidence to substantiate its suspicions. It’s corrupt and ageing, a brittle skeleton clinging to any scrap of tradition and influence it can, becoming crueller and less effective with every passing year. Even when the majority of the Clave’s problems are the direct result of Valentine and the Circle’s actions, it’s somehow always the Downworld that takes the worst hit.

He spends that morning furious, exhaustedly roaming the halls of the Institute to reinforce their wards. Though he knows the Institute will pay him generously, Magnus would much rather forgo the money if it means he could escape the cold, dark walls of the centuries-old church. The only thing keeping him here is Alec. Magnus can sense that he’s grappling with something huge and he’s sure it means that Alec is getting nearer to making a definite decision about their soul bond. If Alec wants to talk, Magnus wants to be somewhere nearby. After their short conversation in the Training Room yesterday, his anxiety that Alec might cut off the bond at any moment has been instead replaced with a tentative hope. Alec said that he wanted to follow his heart and maybe the conflicting emotions that are now rolling through Magnus are just Alec working through the last of his concerns.

“Magnus,” says a voice behind him, startling him from his thoughts. He turns, hands still charged with magic, to see Isabelle and Jace standing at the opposite end of the hallway, their faces grim and determined. He understands what that expression on Shadowhunters means. It’s the face they wear when they’re about to go into battle. He hopes to every god in the universe that they’re not planning to drag him into anything.

“More orders from the Head of the Institute?” he asks.

“The opposite, actually,” says Isabelle, striding towards him. Jace follows a few paces behind. “We need your help.”

“Can it wait? As you can see, my hands are a little full at present.” He raises them to draw attention to the magic glowing around them.

“Magnus, please,” says Isabelle, her dark eyes full of determination, “it’s to help Meliorn.”

“They’re about to torture him. Probably kill him,” Jace adds. “Or maybe you’re not familiar with how the Clave conducts interrogations in the City of Bones?”

“Oh, I know very well what happens to Downworlders in the hands of the Silent Brothers,” says Magnus, retracting his magic and fixing Jace with a dark glare. “That in mind, perhaps you’ll understand why I’m hesitant to trust any of your kind.”

“You trust my brother though, don’t you?” asks Isabelle, and Magnus knows that his expression has betrayed him when Isabelle takes a step closer and places a hand on his arm. “Help him then. He’s convinced that siding with the Clave on this is the right thing to do and he’s not listening to reason. If we don’t save Meliorn, Alec will have that on his conscience for the rest of his life.”

Isabelle has him. He knows it and she knows it. There’s precious little that Magnus wouldn’t do to protect Alec.

“Fine,” he says. “Talk.”

“Not here,” says Jace, his eyes scanning the hallway. “We’ll talk in the Meeting Room. It won’t look as suspicious and Magnus can put up a silencing charm just in case.”

“Oh can he?” says Magnus. “Only if you say the magic word.”

Jace glares back at him in reply.

About half an hour after his clandestine meeting with Isabelle and Jace, Magnus follows Alec to the head office and watches as he disappears inside. Once certain that Alec is far enough into the room that he won’t hear Magnus walking towards it, Magnus makes his way to just past the door. He glances nervously down the hallway to make sure that no one sees him then waves his hand over the wainscoting, creating a small window in one of the wooden panels.

Alec is leaning against the desk with his shirt halfway off, tending to his Forsaken wound. The gash is still angry, red and raw and at the sight of it, Magnus has to bite back a gasp. It would be so easy for him to send a pulse of healing magic and have it disappear, but it would render this whole operation null and void. Besides, Alec made it clear doesn’t want Magnus’ help with it. He reminds himself that he’s here for Alec’s Stele and, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, Magnus scans the desk for it. His eyes eventually settle on Alec’s jacket pocket where the silver wand-like instrument is poking out just enough for Magnus to see it. Taking careful note of its positioning, Magnus snaps his fingers and the Stele vanishes. He immediately pulls out his phone, waiting for Jace’s signal that he’s retrieved the Mortal Cup from the safe.

Magnus looks up and sees that, to his horror, Alec has already replaced his bandage and is in the process of pulling on his shirt. If they are going to have any chance of getting away with this, Jace better move at lightning speed. But several tense seconds pass with no sign from him. All the while, Alec is buttoning up his shirt.

The real panic is just starting to set in when, finally, his phone buzzes in his hand. He briefly reads. ‘Done – You can put it back’ before snapping his fingers and slipping Alec’s Stele back into the pocket Magnus took it from. It couldn’t be a closer call because a second later, Alec is picking up the jacket and making his way to the door.

Magnus barely has time to remove the window and slip his phone into his pocket when Alec enters the hallway.

“All done for today,” he says cheerfully, pretending that he’s checking the walls. “Place is secure. Not bad for a day’s work.”

“Magnus. I was just… are you okay?” Alec asks. The question disarms Magnus who’s suddenly finding it nearly impossible to play it casual.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks with a small huff of forced laughter.

“You were panicking a second ago.” Alec’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I thought there might be something –“

“No, it was just nerves,” says Magnus, not completely untruthfully. “I thought I’d stop by to see how you were doing.”

Alec is silent for a moment and Magnus tries to convince himself that Alec’s confusing rush of emotions is a good thing.

“I meant to thank you for your advice,” he eventually says. “The whole… follow your heart thing.”

Magnus is struggling to breathe. Could this actually be happening? Was this it?

“Oh, well what can I say? I have a deep understanding of the human psyche,” he smiles nervously, knowing that Alec must be able to feel his nervous anticipation. “At least that’s what Freud always said.”

In truth, he only met Freud once and it was the worst hour of his life. But since name-dropping historical figures into his conversations with mortals is one of the only things that makes being immortal worthwhile he decides Alec doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m getting married,” says Alec. Whatever Magnus was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.

“Whoa, that’s a tad sudden, isn’t it?” says Magnus, who is struggling to get his head around the turn this conversation is taking. “I mean, we should at least go to dinner first.”

“Magnus,” Alec says in a serious tone that sets Magnus on edge, “family is everything to me. You have to know that.”

“I get it,” Magnus smiles. “You’re part of a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ culture. I’m fine with it. You’re a traditional guy.”

“Yeah, I am,” Alec agrees. It seems as though they’ve ended the conversation on the same page, but Magnus can sense that there’s something else Alec wants to say and he waits expectantly to hear what it is. Alec takes a deep breath. “That’s why I proposed to Lydia.”

It feels as if every particle of matter has suddenly been ripped from the universe and all that exists is the blood pounding in his ears and the sensation of his stomach plummeting to an unfathomable depth. This is why relationships are a bad idea. This is what he’s been successfully shutting out for almost a century – this awful, gut-wrenching feeling of rejection – of not being good enough.

This was worse than finding out Alec’s parents were arranging a marriage for him. Alec, knowing about the soul bond, knowing how Magnus felt about him, chose to propose to this Shadowhunter woman who was little more than a stranger.

“That’s… interesting,” he says, struggling to string words together. What now? What is he supposed to do with this?

“It makes sense. It’s a solid partnership. For both of us.”

“Solid partnership,” Magnus repeats with a bitter laugh, “that’s hot.”

Alec at least has the basic decency to look ashamed at this point, but Magnus’ emotions are too overwhelming to tell what Alec is actually feeling.

He’s was such an idiot to think that this was going to go the other way.

“Well okay then. Congratulations. Marriage is a wonderful institution – not that I would know.” He takes a deep breath and, gathering the very last of his composure, he says, “Goodbye, Alexander.”

Pushing past Alec, Magnus feels the tempting tears beginning to sting his eyes, but refuses to let them fall. He let this happen. He did this to himself. What good would crying about it do?

It’s only as he nears the end of the hallway that he feels it. There, buried beneath the torrent of his own feelings, is a powerful wave of emotion that isn’t his. The marks are still there. Their soul bond is still intact. He can still feel what Alec is feeling.

And what Alec is feeling in that moment isn’t the calm and relief that Magnus imagines. There’s joyless resignation there and more than a little frustration, but far stronger than either of those, Alec Lightwood is filled with a deep and bitter regret. Magnus smiles weakly despite himself.

All is not lost.