#izzy and simon

[starwolf-and-marauders]

I'm really frustrated with the whole misunderstanding thing between simon and izzy in tales from the shadowhunter academy. Like just kiss already.

[amrubrum]

in another universe jonathan and clary would have been spoiled, rich old money shadowhunter kids who lived next door to stephen and celine herondale as they raised an equally spoiled and sassy jace. they would’ve been with the lightwoods too. they all would attend idris academy and had the best times messing around with each other. oh what could’ve been

[agirlonbus]

Tales from the shadowhunter academy has a lot of gems.

[need-him-pregnant-poll]

NEED👏THAT👏MAN👏PREGNANT ROUND 2 POLL 2

PROPAGANDA:

[Ghost]

"Hes a big edgy military dude who just needs to chill out and have a baby or two, those who get it get it."

[Izzy]

"He’s just very breedable."

"His tits are too magnificent to not be feeding kids with. And I know he's in his mid-fifties, but I think Izzy could get pregnant with an honest effort."

[starrieshq]

Jace: Why do you treat us like we're 5 year olds?

Alec, exasperated: WHY?!?

Alec: *points at Isabelle* YOU BURNED WATER THE LAST TIME YOU TRIED TO BOIL PASTA

Alec: *points at Simon* YOU WENT TO ONE PARTY AND GOT TURNED INTO A RAT

Alec: *points at Jace and Clary* AND YOU TWO WERE DUMPED INTO A DEMON REALM AND IMMEDIATELY SNUCK OFF INTO A DARK CAVE TO HAVE SEX

Alec: AND YOU ASK ME WHY?!?

[jaxlightstairs]

Am I late? Probably. But I just recently remembered that I'm a person who actually draws 🙃 I haven't seen a version of Izzy yet, and this is so izzy!!

And no, I didn't post on the wrong blog, I'm just thinking if I'll keep the other one.

Character belongs to @cassandraclare

Reference: taylor swift at the grammys

[mikawa13]

Gold for the bride? Say less.

Shout-out to my friend who saw me go through the stages of grief throughout the making of this drawing. I wanted to finish this before June (got stuck with the vows), finished yesterday but had a lingering doubt about the groom attire during weddings AND TURNS OUT MEN WEAR A BLACK CEREMONIAL GEAR WITH GOLDEN RUNES. Originally, I thought "Gold is for weddings" not "Gold for the bride." So I had made a golden jacket and made him wear gold as well but had to spend most of the day recoloring it because I am insane. 😃

And truth to be told, if their wedding happens in TWP, I will only read that part. 👏🏻I👏🏻DEMAND👏🏻THEIR👏🏻WEDDING👏🏻I need it.

Also, there are little to no fanarts of weddings. And most of them the men are in simple black suits, which is fine for a groom... But when the bride is IZZY LIGHTWOOD?! And the brother-in-law is THE MAGNUS BANE?! Yeah, no. He needs to look just as fine as her. I just wanted to go all out for her. Now I can go back and rest because this drawing took all of my will to live with all the details. 🥹

(June 5, 2024)

This was the last fanart I officially finished and posted on my Instagram. Since then I was hit with an art block. Sizzy sucked the life out of me lol.

[witchlingcirce]

I’m really surprised by people being worried about the tmi cast dying in TWP… both Jace and Simon have literally come back from the dead, I don’t think anyone in that gang CAN die

[snake-berry]

sizzy! <3

wow this took soso long but anything for simon & isabelle. my two favorite tmi characters and one of my favorite pairings ever. when i saw the reference photo i instantly knew i HAD to redraw it as sizzy

hopefully i'll draw more shadowhunter stuff because i just finished rereading these books and i love them more than life

reference/inspo photo below the cut!

[starwolf-and-marauders]

The urge to pick up the red scrolls of magic (or any Shadowhunter book for that matter) from the shelf and reread it for the 3729474th time hits me every week but, unfortunately, i do want to pass the exams and go to uni so i have to study instead

[mistydeyes]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Task Force 141 and a reader that they never have seen out of uniform until one day they all go to a bar but the reader is late? Next thing they know the reader walks up to them dressed like they just walked straight out of the 2000’s?

(if you end up doing this request: thank you so much! I absolutely luv your writing!!)

thank you so much for requesting! i literally am in love with 2000's fashion like you'll be seeing me walking with low-cut jeans and a baby tee fr

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summary: After a tiring mission, the 141 invites you to drink away the night at the pub. However, you get into a lively argument about fashion when they question your choice in 2000's inspired attire.

pairings: taskforce 141 x platonic!gn!reader (codename: Storm)

warnings: swearing, slight bullying (they fr just don't understand fashion)

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"Didn't we tell Storm half-past eight?" Gaz asked, looking down at his watch. The pub was nearly empty as the men continued to add glass after glass to a growing pile. Despite reminding you with a string of texts, you still haven't made an appearance. "Still don't get why they had to change," Soap continued, choking down another drink, "Lt's still wearing his goddamn mask." The group laughed as their attention was directed to Ghost, still wearing his signature face mask. "They probably wanted a shower and some fresh trousers," Price commented and the rest of the group returned to a more interesting conversation.

As the group laughed at Soap recounting Ghost's out-of-character dialogue in Las Almas, their gaze fell on the pub's door as it swung open. The group smiled at the familiar face and gestured you over. You walked to the table quickly, feeling the attention in the empty pub. At first, you thought it was due to your late entrance but when you approached, you saw all eyes focused on your attire. It was like you walked out of the 2000s or robbed a Delias before your arrival. You felt a little self-conscious at the confused looks and wondered what all the fuzz was about. "What? Do I have a stain?" you questioned as you dusted off your low-cut, denim jeans. "No, it's just-" Gaz began to say but Soap interjected. "Why do you dress like that?" he asked and you raised an eyebrow. You looked down at your jeans and Von Dutch top. "But I normally dress like this?" you said with a curious tone. You dressed like this before joining the military and held on to the lively aesthetic of the early 2000s. You were embarrassed to admit but Britney Spears and *NSYNC were your fashion icons.

"Yeah," Ghost spoke up as he eyed the interesting font of your shirt, "you look like you could be an extra in a Spice Girls video." You rolled your eyes, grabbing at one of the half-drunk glasses on the table. "You've been quiet, Captain," you edged while looking at him, "what do you think?" There was a hush over the room as you waited in anticipation. "Clothes are clothes," he simply replied and the table roared with laughter. "Such a grandad thing to say," Soap loudly exclaimed and everyone clambered with sentiments of agreement. "Sorry I don't wear Wrangler jeans and black fitness tops," you mumbled. It was a subtle jab at your colleagues but Gaz took it to heart. "I have style!" he shouted as you shook your head in disapproval.

"Gaz, you look like someone trying to emulate an Instagram model or some teenager's Pinterest board," you argued and you were met by the howling of the tipsy men. "And Captain, I'm sorry but you look like a father going on holiday to the Swiss Alps," you directed towards Price as everyone realized this was becoming an insult fueled rage. Soap was still laughing wildly, shaking his head in agreement with your every word. "Oh you shouldn't be laughing, Soap," you said as you turned to him, "a navy blue sweater and black jeans are a fashion crime." He quickly turned red and looked embarrassed as he examined the mismatched colors. Everyone held their breath as you turned to Ghost. "And Lt," you paused, thinking of what you should say next, "you dress like you've never heard of color."

[crimsonbluesoul]

Izzy x mundie!Simon 💋

` inspired by this tweet

` comms are open! dm me for info or support me here 🫶🏻

[agirlonbus]

Baby Jace it’s the helpless princess and Clary it’s the mighty warrior that fights the dragon (he’s traumas and daddy issues) then they married and live happily ever after (not something Janus can relate)

[oneluckygoose]

Fucking unforgivable that in the shadowhunters tv show they fucking scrapped Simon and made Isabelle Clary's parabatai. Fucking. Unforgivable.

[overheardinidris]

Clary: It wasn’t me!

Jace: Or me!

Simon: Not me either!

Izzy: I tried to stop them!

Alec: I literally saw you do it and all of you were giggling

[cece693]

more alec lightwood fics pls. 🤤🤤 there are barely fics about him 😐

STAKING HIS CLAIM

pairing: alec lightwood x male reader synopsis: You and Alec had been together for three years, and while you understood his fear of coming out, you still felt like a dirty little secret. Overhearing Maryse making plans of arranging a marriage between Alec and Lydia Branwell, you had enough. It was time to see if Alec would claim you, and what better way than to incite jealousy.

The Institute was always cold.

Not physically—though the stone corridors didn’t exactly invite barefoot strolls—but in the way secrets were kept pressed under polished boots and behind tight-lipped smiles. You had been Alec Lightwood’s secret for three years now.

Three years of stolen glances in the training room. Three years of his hands in your hair under the shadow of library archways. Three years of sneaking back into your own quarters before the morning patrol began, your lips still tingling from goodbye kisses he never acknowledged in daylight.

At first, you understood. The Lightwood name was a pillar of Nephilim society. Alec carried its weight like an iron pauldron. You’d been proud of him for it.

But pride doesn't keep a heart warm forever.

You weren’t even meant to hear it. You were only coming back from a short demon patrol, blood crusted beneath your nails, when you passed the drawing room and heard Maryse’s voice—clipped and pleased. “Lydia Branwell is strong, respectable, and already a high-ranking Clave member. If you agree to it, I’ll begin arranging your courtship before the year ends.”

A pause.

No objection from Alec. Just silence.

Like you were nothing.

Like you hadn’t spent the night before tangled with him in a tangle of whispered I miss you's and promises he never seemed ready to keep in public.

That evening, you found yourself at Magnus' door, shoulders heavy with things you hadn’t said aloud. “Darling,” Magnus said with his usual flourish, but stopped short at your expression. “Tell me which person to smite.”

You managed a weak smile. “Do you have a few minutes?”

Magnus, despite the glitter and sarcasm, could be serious when needed. He listened. Patiently. A glass of something spiced and golden placed in your hand while you spoke—about years of hiding, about overheard conversations, about Alec always almost choosing you but never really doing it.

When you finished, Magnus studied you for a beat, swirling his glass in one hand. “He hasn’t even mentioned you to them?”

You shook your head.

“Darling, I’m offended for you.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t care,” you said quickly. “He does. I know he does. I just…I feel like a ghost. Like I only exist when the lights are off and his parents are far away.”

Magnus’s cat-eyes soften. “I’ve seen many Nephilim go through that path: choosing convenience over someone they love. It starts with silence. Then comes the excuses. And before you know it, you’re a footnote in their glory.” His eyes sparkled—not with magic, but something sharper. “You are no one’s footnote.”

You looked down at your drink, the amber liquid catching lamplight like it might hold an answer. “I kept waiting for the moment he’d say something. Anything. I don't need fireworks or a dramatic reveal—I just want to exist in his world the way he lives in mine.”

Magnus rose gracefully and crossed to you, placing one bejeweled hand over yours. “You’re asking for dignity, not decoration. That’s not too much.” He tilted his head, lips curving into the beginnings of an idea. “What you need,” he murmured, “is a touch of theatre.”

You blinked. “Magnus—”

“No, no—hear me out. Alexander is terrified of losing control, but jealousy? That, my dear, is instinct. It bypasses pride. Bypasses fear.” He grinned with dazzling charm. “Let’s remind him how many others see your worth.”

You eyed him warily. “So what, you’re going to pretend to seduce me?”

“Oh, I won’t pretend, darling. I’ll simply act as if I see you the way he should. Head over heels. Devoted. Hands-on.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer I summon a minor chaos demon to break his door instead.”

You snorted into your drink. “This sounds petty.”

“It is petty,” Magnus agreed cheerfully. “It’s also effective.”

You hesitated, thinking of Alec’s tense smiles, his glance over his shoulder before touching your hand in the shadows. You thought of Lydia Branwell arriving soon. A marriage alliance. A clean, bloodline-approved future.

And then you thought of how you hadn’t been invited to that conversation.

You set your glass down. “Fine. But I’m not throwing myself at you.”

Magnus smirked. “Perish the thought. You’ll be a vision of effortless charm. I’ll do the throwing.”

True to form, Magnus went big.

When the Institute had a welcoming party for Lydia Branwell, you invited Magnus as your plus one—a last-minute addition to the guest list that had Maryse raising a finely plucked brow and muttering something about protocol. But by the time Magnus stepped through the main doors in a coat of enchanted obsidian that shimmered like liquid night, no one dared question his presence.

He was breathtaking.

You barely had time to blink before Magnus’s arm slid around your waist, his rings cool through the fabric of your suit. “Smile, darling,” he whispered, voice honey-slick and wicked. The ballroom was carved from old stone and older expectations. Nephilim mingled in polished armor, Lydia stood tall near the head table, all sharp poise and golden runes, and Alec—he stood beside her, form stiff as his eyes watched you and Magnus across the room.

“I could spin you around the dance floor,” Magnus murmured, fingers brushing your collarbone in mock affection, “or I could just keep you right here and murmur scandal into your ear. Which do you prefer?”

“That depends,” you replied, voice low. “How much do you want to make him sweat?”

Magnus grinned like the cat who swallowed the canary—and then wore the feathers as a brooch. He leaned in close, lips nearly brushing your ear. “You’re positively devilish when you’re heartbroken.”

A few more steps. Alec’s gaze burned now, pinned to where Magnus’s hand traced lazy, lingering shapes at your hip. Isabelle had caught on, her eyes darting between you and her brother and Jace’s brows lifted, as if he'd just realized the plot twist of the evening.

You and Magnus stopped near the drinks table, and he, ever the dramatist, conjured two flutes of champagne with a snap of his fingers. The magic cracked softly in the air—harmless, elegant, noticed.

Alec moved.

Fast.

He all but stormed across the room, his face a sculpted mask of calm only someone who knew him could see right through. Magnus saw it too—his smile widened just enough to expose the trap Alec was marching into. “A word.”

“Of course,” Magnus replied, offering him an exaggerated bow. “Though you’ll have to be specific. Who do you want a word with?”

Alec’s eyes flicked to you, jaw tense. “Him.”

Magnus glanced your way, then to Alec, then back again. “Oh dear. Have I made a mess?” he asked lightly, before pressing a swift, not-quite-innocent kiss to your cheek. “Be gentle with him, Alexander. He’s rather fond of you.”

Alec didn’t even respond. His hand closed gently—but firmly—around your wrist, guiding you toward the archway that led to a quieter hall. You followed.

As if you had a choice.

The moment you were out of sight, Alec rounded on you, tension brimming in every line of his body. “What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, voice low but furious.

You didn’t flinch. “Enjoying the party. Magnus makes excellent company when I can't bring my secret boyfriend as my plus one,” you replied, arms folding. “Especially when their mother’s matchmaking them with Lydia Branwell.”

His expression twisted. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“No,” you said quietly. “But you didn’t stop it either.”

Alec looked away. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” you shot back. “Either I’m someone you’re proud to stand next to or I’m someone you kiss in the dark and hope your parents never find out about. And I’m done pretending one is enough.”

Silence stretched. Alec opened his mouth, then shut it, and for the first time, he looked afraid. Not of you—but of what this meant.

“I saw you,” he said suddenly. “The way he looked at you. Touched you. And all I could think was—he knows what he has. He gets to show it.” Alec’s voice cracked, raw and unguarded. “I want that too. I want that with you.”

You inhaled slowly, heart thrumming. “Then take it.”

Alec stepped forward and, in a rare moment of impulsive honesty, cupped your face with both hands and kissed you. Hard. Fierce. Desperate. As if he could rewrite the years of silence with just this one act. And when you pulled back, the door creaked—Isabelle stood there, arms crossed, lips twitching upward.

“Took you long enough,” she said, then tossed a wink your way. “Also, Magnus won the pool. I owe him fifty bucks.”

From somewhere down the hall, Magnus’s laughter echoed faintly like bells in velvet dusk. And this time, when you stepped out into the ballroom, Alec Lightwood’s hand was in yours. In front of everyone.