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moni26 · 8 months ago

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Chapter 3: Allies

Magnus started to dream.

He hadn't in decades, so it shook and unsettled him, but there was no other way to call the series of sensations and images coming upon him.

What used to be a thick slumber he had to fight through, mixed with moments of passive awareness and consciousness in Alexander's body, took a turn and reshaped. The points of slumber, of stillness, they changed. The vast, stagnant void of it, was no more. Gently, like the first ripple in a long-still lake, the dreams began to form before him. Images from Alexander's books and stories would manifest themselves in his imagination, through colours and feelings and details. Becoming more vivid, to the point where it didn't matter they were in his imagination alone, they were still affecting him.

Alexander would tell a story and Magnus would dream about it when he wasn't conscious. Dressing the Father's words in visuals, putting himself around the periphery of the story, or directly making himself a character in it. Experiencing bizarre wishes, bizarre likes, and even more bizarre aspirations. As though he was stupider in those dreams, as though he forgot himself.

Some of the dreams ran away with him to the point where they weren't even manifested by the Father's tales. Magnus's own imagination seemed to brew them with no help, now that it had the chance, and the doors to more were cracked right open. When Magnus was the culprit, his subconsciousness brought up less elaborate things.

The demon found himself dreaming of the sun. The sun that he disliked so much typically, the warm sensation of it, the shine on his skin during a good day.

On top of that, he helplessly drifted into dreams of cats, of parties, of New York City.

That was the worst of it by far, continuing to haunt him when he dreamt of eating, plates of food laid out, with different taste and texture. Of drinking, cool water that quenched a thirst he shouldn't have, then an exquisite cocktail with an olive on top, soothing his throat like a balm.

Magnus knew all of this was bad, but it didn't feel bad. Not compared to the emptiness. If he had to choose between the emptiness or the dreams, he liked the dreams somewhat better. In direct comparison they felt better, and wasn't that what all demons and dark souls had come to claim- it can't be bad if it feels good. If it feels better than what was before. Demons wouldn't fight something they enjoy, something they favor. They weren't like the mortals, shamed away from their desires. Nothing should be forbidden for Magnus, nothing should be too much and off limits, and yet this was dangerous because it was different. Was this how mortals felt when they were placed outside of their realm of familiarity?

Magnus should stop himself from wondering as if he cared. How could caring feel better than not caring? It couldn't.

He was only confused, that was all, this was confusing him. His clarity would return after he takes his revenge, it was pointless to expect differently at this moment. Later when he was free, he'll see this for what it really is, no more than an appalling prison.

By now he knew when he'll be passively awake, what would frequently bring him out if he had no ability to fight through it himself. He'll be awake either when his name was spoken, or when essence and body were in the same room. With him. Alexander.

The demon would hear more and more when Alec (and by extension Magnus himself) was with the vessel, he would feel more. He ought to use it when the time was near.

Alexander was too empathetic, his critical judgement compromised because of the tragedy with his brother. It seemed the priest saw a victim of possession, someone that could have been Jace, that's why he was so kind.

Hellspawns beyond, he was so kind. Too kind. Too good and too calm. A stark contrast to the uproars in Hell that Magnus came from, which he commonly resided in the middle of. Alexander was a lot of things that started with 'too' and ended in all possible manners. There was a quiet strength he held. There was softness behind the edges of his demeanor.

Magnus probably hated him, a bit differently than he hated everyone else. In a slightly altered way than he was used to hate overall.

Alexander's easiest weakness to be exploited would always be his Jace. Even from Jace's grave. Even from Hell, where Alexander knew he had ended up. Magnus roved through his own memories and recollections, and then through Alexander's, when he had small access, trying to determine where Jace had to have been thrown in. The demon attempted it as subtle and as imperceptible as possible, before he was thrown in the next dream.

----------

It was getting tiring to stay in one place by the altar, but Alec was more or less used to it when he was concentrated. His voice carried steadily in the hall, to all the people listening to today's lecture.

He had just delivered a message about self-forgiveness and ambition, two things he was struggling with himself, but that was for him to combat. As always, it was easier for him to engage with others through the ways of the Church. He couldn't remember the last time he went to hang out with people he liked that weren't in any way connected to the job or his past, having casual conversations. Instead, that's how he interacted with everyone. Through this.

Sometimes he thought of the demon in him and the remarks Alec had heard. That he was actually wrong to claim people have disappointed him, closing himself off, only using this to reach forward. But at the same time, he shouldn't listen to anything a demon was feeding him. Their only goal was to spread doubt and hurt, that's what they knew.

As some of the visitors and a couple other clergyman filtered out, exchanging warm greetings and gentle smiles, Alec gathered his notes, preparing for the private moments that would follow. The confessions. Walking toward the booth at the side of the hall, its wooden frame worn by years of use, the thick scent of incense mingled with candle wax. He opened the moderately creaking door and took his place in the chair of the confessional, a place that held countless stories of struggle and redemption.

The rest followed in more hushed tones.

''Father, I have no idea what to do,'' a woman began, her voice trembling slightly. ''My husband lives separately from me, with another woman, and I don't think he's coming back.''

''That must be really discouraging for you. Have you thought about divorcing him?''

''I have. But the Lord brought us together in holy matrimony. I keep thinking I've given vows till death, and it just scares me. People around me don't look too kindly on divorces, they say it's disrespectful to break the bonds set for us by Him. That it would be low of me, instead of trying to repair things.''

Alec offered some of his thoughts, ''The Lord sometimes gives us metaphors, which we can interpret looking into our feelings. Until death doesn't have to be a physical death of one of you. It could be the death of the relationship, the death of his feelings, or yours. In what you're describing, I gather that he was the one deciding to break the bond you had with his actions. It wasn't you.

''If he's living a life which has no place for you, if he's forgotten his own vows he gave you, and is actively disrespecting you and making you feel miserable, I think you're absolutely in your right to divorce him. The Lord wants you to be respected, and he wants you to be loved. Consider this when you decide what to do.'' He weighed a bit before he added, ''The people around you who may judge you, they don't really know what they'll do in your place. Because they are not in your place, you are.''

''Thank you, Father.''

A younger sounding woman was next.

''I've done enough I need forgiveness for, but I don't know where to start. I've failed myself. Not sure how to find my way back to my faith.''

''What makes you feel you've lost your way?'' Alec asked.

''Honestly,'' the woman's breath stuttered, ''it's more than one thing. But to top it all off, with the way I live my life, I've dated both genders. It's what pushed me the furthest away from this place.''

''But you're back.''

''Back and more humiliated than ever,'' the sad voice admitted. ''My parents are quite religious, they struggled a lot with me.''

''Some of those struggles were over what you confessed about your romantic interests, am I correct?''

''Yes. I've tried to change, I really have.''

He turned to the space between their sides of the booth, ''Would your parents expect you to change the colour of your eyes, if you were born with one they weren't prepared for?''

''Uh... no?''

''Did your parents expect you to change the colour of your natural hair when it started growing?''

The reply was just as hesitant when the woman denied that too.

Alec carried on, more kindly, ''Why do you think they didn't?''

''Because I... couldn't have, even if I wanted to.''

''There is your answer. Who you are attracted to is just as natural. Maybe not natural to your parents, but you are a separate person, with feelings and wishes of your own. If you need your parents to understand, tell them we are the Lord's creation. If they are indeed religious, they accept this and value his judgement. This is how he made you, because he never made anything only one way. No, he set some of our differences, to help us find ourselves independently. He knows there is a lot of contrast and divergence around us, he created it so. We only need to look past us to see it. You're not to be punished for something outside of your control.''

''But should I still act on it?''

''If it's reciprocated, you aren't hurting anyone if you do. Same sex marriage is legal here. I assume your parents acted on their feelings when they found each other. None of that is something for you to be excluded from. You aren't excluded from finding the same happiness your parents did, the same happiness that others find.''

''I wish that I could say it like that when I talk to them.''

''I understand,'' Alec nodded, ''Maybe you'll be more comfortable bringing them here, when I could say this to them.''

''Crap, imagine their faces when-'' a slap over the mouth raced over whatever the woman was going to throw in. ''Forgive my language, please! I haven't been to Church in a while.''

''It's forgiven. I would absolutely talk to them, if that is easier for you. In any case, don't hate the way the Lord created you. He loves you this way, as he loves everyone.'' A subtle shift in Alec's stance came, before he picked up, ''About something else you've said- if you no longer find peace going to Church, you can also consider why you do it. Because you want to, or because you have to.''

''Isn't this a case of: we all have to.''

Alec was pensive before saying, ''Just as there are different ways to pray, there are different ways to find calm and peace.''

At a later time, while the sun dipped low on the horizon and the people Alec heard and blessed retired to their homes, he closed the gates of the Church and turned the key. Blowing out some of the candles, his back leaned against the wall and his eyes closed, bringing out the cross from under his clothes and clamping his fingers over it. The reason it was always under the clothes and not above them, even though it would make all the sense for Alec to display it, make it visible for everyone given his position, was because it was different than the crosses priests often wore. It was much smaller, much more Alec's taste: basic, silver, and purified in holy water.

He just liked to keep it tucked away and closer to his heart, especially in times like these.

His introspection from before maintained, for whatever reason. He checked the man he looked after, inspected his IV and the fluids he received through it, then provided the body with a longer glance. Narrowing his eyes as the stare deepened, his eyes fixated on anything out of the ordinary.

Was he being crazy, Alec wondered when he blinked a few times and shook his head.

The flickering candlelight by the unresponsive man cast long shadows across the ancient stone walls. The scent of incense still hung in the air, as Alec was just leaving to his own private space and sanctuary.

Again, was he going crazy?

Was he going crazy or was there a certain feeling associated with this side room, because of the person in it. He walked out, but moved slower, deep in thought, only partly paying attention to what he was doing.

The Church stood silent under the moon's gaze.

Soon it was even later at night, Alec still away from the small bed he used, giving in to none of the claws of sleep.

Without warning, the ground shook. A low, guttural sound, like the growl of a wild beast, was coming from the outside. Finding one of the church windows and looking through, something stirred in the dark, an unnatural chill creeping up Alec's spine, making the hair on the back of his neck stand. A toxic presence was in the air.

First, out the window something met his gaze, another pair of eyes, making him jump away. His overwhelming sense of being watched, of being hunted by a predator, was sending alarm bells ring with a blaring intensity through his whole body.

Alexander?

His turmoil got him a sense of Magnus Bane, sleepy and muddled, so Alec held him at bay. For once this week Magnus Bane wasn't the lurking presence that set him into disturbance.

Afterward...

All Hell broke loose.

Silhouettes and shapes moved at the edges of the building, creeping closer, slithering over the gates. Pushing against the wards.

Demons.

Plural.

Lower class, must have been invoked and brought to action by power of an infernal being higher-up. Trying to get the doors to burst open. Pouring to push from one place, looking for a hole to weaken the defenses.

Reaching the only open window to the entrance and forcing it shut, Alec saw more distorted outlines in the night, twisted by darkness and rage. Claws scraped against the glass the second he secured its closing and pulled himself away. The diabolical creature's attempts unrelenting, hungry, searching.

Find it! It's in here! Find it! Mommy wants it!

Alec clamped his hands over his ears, trying to shield himself, fingers curling inwards. A sharp breath caught in his throat, and his chest rose and fell in quick shallow gasps, as if he couldn't get enough air. His eyes darted around the building, having perfect memory of where more weapons were hidden. Considering the chance of the Church not withstanding this attack.

Smell it! It's here! Take it for Mommy!

No, the building and its defenses had never dealt with such a swarm of demons at once, leaping to hit the pane, looking for a way in. Objects tumbled from their placements unprompted, blown out candles falling on the floor, and Alec was rushing into action.

Alexander.

Books tumbled from their shelves, this time with Alec's help as he ransacked to start the right incantation, cutting his other unscathed hand, requiring his blood like he had for the summoning once before. Like other times, the words were foreign just before they rolled down his tongue, turning well-known the second he used them. The switch was familiar by now, reminding him of his lineage better than anything else could.

You, one of the demons was hissing and snarling from the glass, You have it! You've hidden it! Not for you! Is for Mommy!

Alec felt the power of the incantation building within him. His voice, strong and resonant, cut through the oppressive atmosphere. Some of the dark shapes hissed and recoiled when he was battling back now. He used the power harvested in the soil when he spoke the words in his grandsire's language, the consecrated territory mixed with the sacred text he read from, meant to drive them away.

It chased off a good amount, but he was quickly becoming convinced that what he was doing wouldn't be enough against the overwhelming odds. They were too many to begin with, too many to fend off through this. He could force away about half, but then he still had the rest attacking him. Lower demons may be weaker individually, but this many could be fatal.

He crossed himself, moving his hand from the forehead to the chest and then from one shoulder to the other. Then he reached down to his legs, gathering the heavy black fabric of his robes, tearing it from both sides, one uneven line on the right and one on the left. Forcing the material to separate in order for Alec to move quickly and sufficiently. Needing the speed and mobility cloaked behind the ceremonial garb. For this part, only the warrior remained.

With his ripped apparel and its edges fluttering free, Alec reached for the inside of his boot. Taking out a small dart from it. Saying the words and watching it grow to a set of crossbow bolts in his hold, he hurtled towards the only other entry besides the main, a narrow back entrance which was visibly sealed. On the way, he got the crossbow, hidden in a compartment under loose floorboards, runes spread over the entirety of it. Barely catching his breath, he was running while the air itself seemed to howl in his pursuit.

The sealed back door was marked with a rune as well. Alec's bloody hand over it revealed a glamoured gap he could see and shoot from. Stopping things from getting in, but not stopping them from getting out, exactly what he needed. Like through a spell, the gap widened, helping him see outside.

With practiced precision, Alec dropped to one knee, his crossbow trained on the moving shadows. His heart pounded with adrenaline, but his hands remained steady.

The first demon, with scaled skin and fiery eyes, fell fast and neat. The second only displayed part of its clawed limbs before letting out a pained roar, pierced through the chest, disintegrating into the night dust. Alec's pointed projectile was cutting through the darkness, taking out creature after creature. With fluid movements, he lunged shot after shot. His body responding instantly, trained by years of demon hunting.

Alexander!

...

Hellspawns beyond, I didn’t know you had it in you.

...

I think you've got them. Take that, Lilith, you filthy little bitch!

...

Let me help.

...

Alexander!

''No,'' Alec pushed him away.

You could benefit from my help.

Magnus Bane had no reason to help him. He wanted him to die here.

Except we're still tied.

''How did you make Lilith send them?''

I didn't. Does this look like something I would want? We're tied, I have a vested interest in you surviving this particular encounter.

''Then why has she sent them? Why now?''

Stop this and listen to me. With my help, you'll kill them all. Let me.

''I'm not letting you in,'' Alec whispered coldly, narrowing his focus after recharging, releasing the following shots and finding his mark.

Not letting me in, only the strength I've got. It's there for you to use, I'll allow it to flow through you. I won't resist.

Alec inhaled deeply, filled with his misgivings about it. ''Why would you help me?''

Because I've despised Lilith longer than you've been alive. I have no issue seeing all her faithful offsprings burn. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, just this once. Let me kill them.

Alec digged for dishonesty, but exhaustion may start slowing him down and the wards were getting weaker. Besides, in that moment, Magnus's hate for Lilith felt true.

He only had to open his mind to it, before Magnus's strength began to channel into him, wrapping around them like an invisible force. Alec's body reacted almost instinctively, his muscles tensing and then relaxing as the power coursed through him.

In an instant, he was fully outside, standing tall, raising his head.

A vision of black large wings unfurled from his back, sweeping outward with an elegance. He sensed them like an abstract and incorporeal existence, not having a physical body but rather a manifestation of power.

Alec flicked his wrist, and the demons were toast.

----------

''What kind of demon are you?''

The worst kind.

''That's the Devil.''

Is it? Wait until you see my father.

Alec's instincts flared, a realisation crashing over him. The Devil might be a story, but he was said to be a fallen Angel, expelled from Heaven.

Magnus's father... a fallen Angel?

Angels were known to have a corporeal human-like body, one that became vulnerable without the celestial being occupying it.

Oh no!

#Echoes of a Sinister Contract

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moni26 · 8 months ago

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Chapter 2: Cohabitants

The Demon's presence inside the Father's body was like a slumber, sleeping through hours, sleeping through actions and events. Moments flickered by, too distant to grasp, too fleeting to experience. The Father was living his life by the next day, and Magnus was drowning in stillness, floating in and out of consciousness.

He could stir at points, be awake, a passive presence. But it was like trying to move through a thick fog, waiting to be pulled back under.

Then came his name.

''It was Magnus Bane, Clary.''

''...it would have never worked if I wasn't alone.''

His name. A call that sliced through the fog. It jolted him awake more easily than his own attempts and struggles. Magnus strained to feel more, clawing for control. The weight of Alexander's body was crushing and wrong. He reached out, but the limbs were not his own, the body was not his own, and never before had he felt that so strongly. Having been in different vessels a few times over the centuries, never before had he experienced this. Feeling so insufficient, restrained, possessed.

It was maddening, this half-awareness. But the name was spoken again, and Magnus clutched to it like a lifesaving rope.

------

With the arrival of the following day's early hours, Clary paid Alec a very insistent visit, after a mountain of phone messages, because according to her- it was so terribly reckless for Alec to keep doing any of the shit he was doing alone.

''It was Magnus Bane, Clary. He would have smelled another person a mile away, it would have never worked if I wasn't alone.''

''Right. So how victorious are you feeling now?''

He released a long breath. She knew him better than most by now. ''Where I am, victory isn't a part of it.''

''I thought so.''

''But I'm not waiting for a rush of pride either. The demon is trapped, another dark entity caged, another battle finished. What I feel is the efficiency of a completed task.''

She wanted to say something to that, while she helped him meticulously organize and set everything in the chapel back in order. No trace of the otherworldly and unsettling events prior. More people were going to attend the Church in an hour or two, and Alec had to prepare for his sermon and readings.

She examined the lines of his face for inner turmoil and hardship, allowing herself to look as worried as she was. She shouldn't be. Alec had confined and trapped a multitude of demons by this point, even if that was the first time he had locked one in the walls of his own mind.

''I need to know,'' she lifted her chin towards him, emotion swimming in her voice, ''Why do you keep up with this life?''

''I'm still able to,'' he answered with a rise and fall of his shoulders. ''Haven't seen a reason to stop if I still retain the ability.''

''You're only 33, Alec. Telling you to go into retirement wasn't my point. My point was, you don't have to carry it forward. You said it yourself, he's Magnus Bane, he's a bigger fish than we've ever faced,'' she pointed out. ''Why would you do something so dangerous?''

''That's the job.''

''Alright, and back to the question- why do you keep living this life? These spirits, these entities and monsters- they don't come to you anymore, you're the one seeking them out.''

''If I don't find them, someone else will. Better me than an innocent.''

''An innocent may be passing by the church one of these nights if you're not careful. The job, some of us cast it aside for a reason,'' she remarked, trying to calm her lingering discomfort. ''I wish Jace had cast it aside too.''

''Clary.''

''What?''

''I'm sorry for making you worry.'' Alec sat with her, having come a long way when it came to feeling comfortable with this. At this point, she was the one he felt most at ease talking to. It felt sometimes as though Jace was the central point of her universe, and if someone would get to the heart of Alec's loss, it would be her. Thanks to her, Alec felt no guilt about having trouble moving on. Because she understood, even when she was arguing with him, like right now.

It hadn't escaped her notice that Alec had done this shit at the anniversary of Jace's death either.

''Maybe I'll quit someday,'' he tested out the words, ''Just... not yet.''

''And in the meantime?''

''I have enough going for me in the meantime. This, what I've got built here, the Church, the people. I love this,'' the admission was settled in his honesty. ''I was never the most religious person in the room before. I didn't have any passionate viewpoint or anything. It was alright, but it was never mine. I doubt I've prayed. But after he was gone, I had to find something. And I found... a multitude of self-destructive methods to handle it, each more damaging than the last. Until I tried to believe there is something good out there. That's what the faith gives me, the idea of something good waiting.''

Doing what they do, it would have been harder if they didn't believe in better things.

''The other day Izzy told me saying a prayer was like free therapy.''

''In my world it counts,'' Alec nodded. ''Talking to the silent angels, I got to lay out how it feels without worrying about somebody's reaction to it. I don't know, I've been disappointed so much, it's good to have something that won't let me down. With praying I get to say... everything... for myself, something I couldn't do before. For every time I can't be myself around people, I can manage this. Allows me to say it out loud.''

''I know what you mean.''

''What I do here, I don't know, maybe can save someone? People who feel this way.'' He knew enough of them had gotten through something, and that was when believing in better things could serve them.

The same people who have been such a disappointment to you, because oh, you've been disappointed so much. The same people who can't compare to the silence of Angels. Are you hearing yourself darling?

Alec stirred and his teeth pressed firmly together.

''Is it him?'' Clary questioned quickly, her hair bouncing as she slightly jumped. ''Are you okay?''

''Don't freak out,'' Alec pulled a hand up. ''It's me, he can't come out or hurt you. Not having the control will only make him wither and wither. In a few days, his strength will fade and falter. When I find the right incantation against him, his power will start to decay further. And he'll be lost. Being dormant like this will end him.''

''How long would you be bound to him?''

''Not long,'' Alec assured her, ''He made sure in the deal to keep it short. So I don't get too much time alive. But my life is mine, and the time however short will stifle him. I might look for a more permanent prison, just in case.''

''Why did you have to tie yourself to him?'' she asked again.

''It's the only thing that could have worked. And it's me in control. In a twisted way, it's me possessing him, while he's a passive passenger.''

''Doesn't frighten me any less,'' she admitted frankly.

Oh Alexander, she's right. When you trapped me with you, did you consider it would allow me to learn a considerable amount regarding you. How much damage do you bet I can do with some vulnerable information? Endless source of it, my captor's life laid before me.

''I can learn a lot about him too,'' Alec countered, more to the demon than to Clary. ''If I didn't have the access to the way to destroy him before, having him in my mind will change that. If I've learned one thing about these demons in my time, is that the best person to know how to kill them, is them. The information is there, in his conscious thoughts. Where I can reach it. While all he learns about me, he's not in a position to use.''

And as he said that, Alec didn't sense the demon pushing again.

Clary put her head on his shoulder, and he rolled an arm behind her back. When all was done, he appreciated her caring for him, even if he wasn't showing it as well as he wished.

Afterwards he recounted all the important things to her, pointing out the side room, safe and warded, where the corporeal form the demon had left behind, the body of another innocent, occupied the couch. Alec had carried it as carefully as possible last night. ''I thought the human appearance was only an illusion the demon was pulling. Like others like him, the Greater ones, do. They bring out illusions all the time. Plus it was difficult to see, so I believed the illusion would vanish after the deal. But it's a human body, of flesh and blood, an actual vessel.''

''Okay, I would have been taken aback too,'' Clary commented. ''All demons are inhuman, some shapeless, others not, but always non-human. With skin more invulnerable to ordinary weapons. The books say the Greater ones in particular, because they are so old, are more shadows and darkness than anything else.''

''Well, this is a person who bleeds. The light bruise at the side of his face, it's because I couldn't catch him after the demon left him, and he fell,'' Alec admitted, his voice ringing with a bit of embarrassment and guilt over his slow reaction. That's why he had been so careful later, slipping his arms under the limp body, worried the slightest jolt might hurt them. Lowering them to the couch.

''Another victim of Magnus Bane's possession deals,'' Clary reflected. ''At least that vessel is free of him now.''

''At least. We can only hope the person this body belongs to comes forth.''

Alec took a good look at the vessel. It had high cheekbones and angular jawline, giving him a regal, almost ethereal appearance. The skin was warm olive tone, still keeping a faint, subtle glow, giving him so much hope that the owner of this body hadn't been squashed by what had happened to them. They could be saved. They could come back.

The hair was spiked and styled, a well-groomed goatee framing the face, the clothes a little fancy, but there was something nice about the way it all came together. The demon had used somebody with a style in details. There was a fitted black velvet blazer, its deep dark hue catching the light with a subtle sheen. The blazer featured intricate red embroidery along the lapels and cuffs, depicting symbols and delicate patterns. Beneath it, Alec saw a red silk shirt, the fabric staying elegantly. Last were the tailored black trousers, complementing the blazer. Completing the look, the vessel's hands were adorned with two rings on each, one set with red gemstones.

Alec inched closer and closer, wondering who this was. He was completely lost on it and his guesses all seemed unlikely, but his deep ingrained belief was that no human deserved to be taken over, pieces of their life stolen. Or worse, lose their life because of it. Like Jace had.

Prompted by that, he sank into the couch and took one of the ringed hands. ''You're safe now, whoever you are. If you can hear this or you can wake up, you can start over.''

The long, dark lashes didn't move. But Alec would still hope.

Over the next couple days, he used some of his savings and people who owed him a favor, so the person's body, although protected in the Church, would be connected to a hospital system and a fluid bank. Alec will come back to the man the following afternoon, and the one after that. Making sure there was always a blanket over their shoulders. Sitting by their side and reading them from whatever he could find.

Why bother so much with this half-dead guy?

The demon had made fun of it when the chance was ahead, but ever since Alec stayed persistent on it, strangely enough, the time he dedicated to the person needing help, was the time Magnus Bane would settle down from his efforts to take control, not another remark out of him.

So when Clary was at work, Alec would return to the man with a new story in his hand. He read about the ancient journeys of those considered just simple humans, much more than that at heart. Having proved as much by actions.

He read about Moses, leading the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. He read about Hadassah, later renamed Esther, a young Jewish woman who found favor with the king, became queen, and risked her life to save the Jewish people from destruction.

He pulled out the cross he always had around his neck, under his church apparel and clothes, and admitted that even though he valued it immensely, he respected other cultures, loved stories about other cultures and would be glad to read more from them.

On the third day, after he finished a book, reading until his voice was exhausted and worn out, he stretched his arm towards the other man again.

''I prayed for you to come back,'' Alec carefully grasped the person's hand, enfolding it within his own. His fingers closed around it with a reassuring touch. He just held their hand for a while, until resuming, ''Can you hear me? I like to believe that you can. I'm so sorry for all the harm that's come to you. But see, you're not gone. I think you can get through this and open your eyes and start over. I've tried to find your relatives, been pretty bad at it so far, hence you need to forgive me for that. Or not. Maybe you need to wake up and tell me to get away and get lost. I mean, I sort of expect it, though I hope you wouldn't run away from here afraid of me.''

There was a flicker at the back of Alec's mind, but when his eyebrows gathered in confusion, he decided he imagined it.

#shrb24

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moni26 · 8 months ago

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Chapter 1: Enemies

The invocation was still being spoken, the blood on the pentagram just recently spilled and fresh, the flames keeping him at bay only soothing enough to see beyond, when Magnus's figure towered over the fire and his demonic eyes lifted with a wicked flicker. Whenever the place wasn't lit, his vision unveiled every corner, he could see in the dark in ways mortals observed in the light of the sun.

The sun painted everything one way, spiced and seasoned it into something quite unlike the original. Magnus didn't miss it now that it had set. He only preferred to be summoned at times like these. When the dark was unpretentious while bathing the nooks and angles not licked by the pentagram blaze.

The stained glass attracted him first, deities presenting themselves in their finest and their glory, in colours that were once richer than now, dulled slightly by time and poor conditions. Blood had been cleaned from the floors more than once, but the ordinary people frequent to this type of place were surely ignorant of it. Couldn't sense it, couldn't feel it.

No. Such people would come for the altar, the stand next to the freshly drawn pentagram where the Bible was read, the adjacent space further from Magnus where the priests delivered their sermons. People wouldn't care what has happened here over the decades, they wouldn't want to know. There were angel sigils spread over the pale walls, some that mortals may confuse with aesthetic, and some that couldn't be seen by those regulars even in the light of the day. Hidden from them but meant to protect.

This place was one of those then, the startling realisation reached Magnus about where he was. Where he had been summoned from. This church was one of those. An old relic where gifted half-breeds would hunt down demons. His observations ran cold and his eyes followed the scent of the blood used for the summoning ritual, having gotten a sense of the voice during the end of the invocation as well.

Clues were leading to the unlit hole where the mortal in the room foolishly thought Magnus's eyes wouldn't reach. ''Lovely,'' Magnus's words tarried on displeasure and animosity, ''To be invited here of all places.''

The human clutched the bandage over the cut on his palm, but the corner he had been keeping to was located already, so he found it in himself to step away from it. Taking hesitant footsteps towards the pentagram and Magnus. And surprise, surprise, he was none other than the head of the congregation this place housed, the Church Father, judging from the way he was dressed. In a traditional black apparel, with the piece of amice- a white linen and rectangular cloth placed over the shoulders- evident under the Adam's apple.

Magnus's impeccable sight catalogued his light and fluffy looking dark hair, falling over the light skin of his forehead, the little scarring on one of his eyebrows, the straight nose and the well-kept stubble framing his face. His bottom lip was quivering and from noticing that, Magnus was back to the small white piece against his throat, covering all the rest of the skin from how it was attached to the clothing. Such clothing revealing only the face and the hands. But the Father's frame and body underneath all that gave the impression of being more muscle than first bets would suggest. And it all started with the amice tucked by the Adam’s apple, which was quivering too.

Because the Father had been crying, tears dried on one cheek, some new ones quietly gathering at the corner of his unwiped eye, some forced to stay unshed. That took Magnus out of it, as it was strange. The man didn't seem to want to be crying either, leaning towards resignation.

Mortals had bawled their eyes out in front of Magnus in exceedingly overdone fashion before. But never held themselves in such a personal and resigned way.

Mortals had screamed their uncanny feelings in his face with all the grace of a pig running from the slaughter. But never these half-breeds, they had never so much as shed a tear when they wanted something. When they thought they were still due something.

This one looked somewhere in his 30s, old enough to feel shame and embarrassment at this vulnerable display. That's what his kind would believe, at least. An opinion Magnus could neither support nor disregard. It was too far removed from him to do so. Demons couldn't cry, so such displays, as well as the shame humanity associated with them, remained more outlandish than not. Was the Father as unsettled by those tears as any other half-breed would be? Maybe, maybe not. Despite his tears, he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve.

He drew his shoulders back with renewed determination, his gaze locked onto the challenge ahead with intense focus, his features quite nice to look at. He was one of the pretty ones, so Magnus waited for the bite behind the beauty and comeliness. After pushing back the whim of the tears, the Father found his voice. ''I don't wish to verbally threaten you,'' he got the reassurances gushing first, ''or challenge you. I only hope you consider a deal. I've been told you make,'' he swallowed, ''this type of deals.''

Magnus pulled his head back, looking down on him. ''Let's deal then. We should get more comfortable for that. Be a good boy and pull the rest of those flames away, so you can see me as well as I see you.''

''And let you walk out of the pentagram? I'm sorry, but not yet on a suicide mission.''

They can remedy that, Magnus considered, rather maliciously. From the moment the Father talked, he was again one of those. One of those assuming the privilege of summoning Magnus Bane, in front of all his deities, unsubtle in forcing them down Magnus's throat. In the Church, of all places. Not outside, no, calling Magnus up here. As far as the demon was concerned, that was enough provocation, and his dark thoughts were only a downward spiral from there.

''Could you not try to fool me?'' the Father requested, ''I told you I'm not threatening or challenging you.''

Of course he wouldn't challenge him. This one was another human, descendant of the half-breeds trying to kick Magnus's kind into submission, but nothing more. He may have some gifts, but he was more mortal than those warriors Magnus had faced in the past. Those warriors were in Heaven, but their grandchildren, the grandchildren of Magnus's rivals, they were still roaming the earth.

By the scent, the feel of the air, Magnus knew he could squash this one easily if freed.

Yes, the Father expectedly wouldn't free him, being told enough about the events before his time and his lineage not to make that particular mistake. Instead letting the bounds of the pentagram preserve his life. But dealing with Magnus- that was its own gamble. ''And what is it that I can do for you?''

The Father struggled with the tension in his jaw, Magnus cataloging the red and green from the dominant brown in his multi-colored eyes, ''Tonight is the anniversary of my brother's death.''

''Tonight are many such anniversaries. Hundreds. Thousands.''

''His name was Jace,'' the Father disclosed, narrowing the circle of endless possibilities, ''Jace Herondale.''

''And you are?''

''I,'' he swept a hand down his face, ''Alec, my name is Alec.''

''Just Alec? Alaric? Aleksandr with a k? Alexander with an x?''

''Yes.''

''Yes, which one?''

''Last one,'' he replied, looking worried about how many other possibilities there were.

''Alexander Herondale, you do know we're entering a very precarious line.'' One Magnus very much wanted him to cross.

The Father braced himself, ''I was told you can bring mortals back.''

Resurrection.

How desperate of this man to ask. Just desperate enough for Magnus to enjoy it, ''You think me capable of plucking whoever you've handpicked from the see of the dead and deliver them to your door? You flatter me beyond belief.''

''Him you can bring back,'' the mortal insisted with heart-clenching certainty. ''Him you can give me.''

''Because you want it so badly, your sweet little human heart would manifest it into happening?''

''No,'' he shook his head, ''You can do it, because Jace died as a demon. There's a good chance his soul is in Hell, and you can bring him back from there.''

Stalling for a heartbeat, Magnus took a good course towards examining this. ''How?'' he asked under a breath of surprise.

''Demon possession and a spell. He fought it for as long as he could, but the Demon, the Owl by calling, prevailed.'' Alexander stood to get his bearings, ''We were, um, we were here. I was telling him he shouldn't harm himself, because I could save him. But I failed at keeping him restrained, the demon overpowered our friends who were trying to stop him, and the Owl sucked the Jace I knew out of him. It was, it was months of him being out there and hurting others before my father put him down to end it. I haven't spoken to my father since, I just can't. I know why he did it, but I can't.''

''Are you aware that if I bring your Jace back, that demon may be back as well. A fifty-fifty chance.''

The Father ducked his head, ''I am.''

''But you're asking anyway.'' Fuck the whole belief system if the result wasn't up to these people's taste. Then why uphold the belief system at all? For nothing, to feel better about themselves. Oh well, Magnus would not regret tearing into this one. ''Nothing like this comes free. Tell me you understand the price you'll pay.''

''You'll ask,'' he cleared his throat, ''you'll ask for my soul.''

''It's only fair. You want me to attempt getting Jace's soul back, I want yours. A soul for a soul, very simple trade really.''

''Is there not a chance of anything else? Anything.'' The Father tried to negotiate. ''A bargain, an arrangement we can make. I would pull people back from your tracks so you don't have to deal with the likes of me. I'm the last time that happens to you, I can burn the books that mention you, I can burn the books that say how to kill you.''

A growl left Magnus's lips, ''There are no ways to kill me, I'm not the Owl.''

''True, you're a Greater Demon and beyond. But anything can be killed.''

The man truly wanted to play that game.

''Prove it,'' the demon called his bluff, ''Take your best shot.''

''I said I wanted Jace, not your head.''

''Tell you what, you show me those fatal books that can bring my undoing, and I'll consider taking someone else's soul instead of yours.''

''No!'' the Father objected hotly. ''This is just about me, nobody else. You don't doom anyone, promise me that you don't. No one else.''

Interesting. Magnus had expected him to agree. And cower a bit more.

But he wouldn't. Magnus stored that information in the back of his mind, and made sure it didn't show in his response. ''Alright, the deal is only with you. But I'm still yet to see any books that can doom me. Don't waste my time.''

''You really want me to threaten you.''

Magnus waved a hand nonchalantly, ''Please, threaten and challenge away.''

''Really?''

He smiled, ''As I said, take your best shot. Outdo me.''

The tightness in the other's posture was the only company the charged silence received.

Magnus threw his head back in glee, ''So I thought. Empty. Ultimatums. Can't say I'm impressed. Seeing as you have nothing to offer me, I think this was one provocative but futile exercise.''

''Wait,'' the Father said lowly.

''For what exactly? You narrowed the deal to yourself, but won't give me anything. You claimed your soul was not on the table. I mean, you need your brother back, but not that bad. ''

''Wait.''

His mouth curved, ''For what?''

''If I... do this, how much time do I get before I go. 10 years? Five?''

''None.''

The Father jerked back further as the words worked heavily through him. ''I don't understand.''

''Let me make it simple for you. You get your brother back on his feet, that's all you get.''

''You offer a few years to everyone else.''

''You're not everyone else,'' the demon insisted, decision firm and unwavering. ''Because of the history my kind has with yours, I can't give you the terms I give my usual clients.''

The mortal's heart was speeding up, ''You, you can, of course you can.''

''I don't want to.'' Magnus wanted his soul. As of now. ''At most, I may give you a few days with your brother.''

''Enough to hurt what I'm giving up. Suffer more because I know what I'm leaving behind.''

''Perhaps.''

The Father's fate was dawning on his face, ''How does it even... how do you give me a few days?''

''I can arrange it through the assistance of some lower-ranking demons in Hell, or I could tie your soul to me as part of the deal and take you when its time.''

''No other demons.'' The insistence was just as determined as it was alarmed. ''If my family gets Jace back, he would be vulnerable. Last thing they need is your servants involved in more details about the deal.''

''That leaves you with me then,'' the demon concluded diabolically. He had been hoping for the second variant. If the mortal signs a deal like that, his soul tied to Magnus, then the demon could easily take possession of his body. The vessel whose soul he owned. For a few days, before the man's soul gets sent to the pits of Hell, Magnus could be finally taking a vacation from Hell. More free to walk the mortal's world. He could be Father Alexander. Dedicated priest, directing people towards absolution, satisfying the calls for help and preaching his ways and religion.

Magnus could be having a trip in his shoes, meet those friends the man had briefly mentioned, the odds-on other grandchildren from the lineage of his adversary. Having his work of wiping them out and burying them half-done. The next time blood was dripping down those floors, demons could be spilling it. All that with one little deal. These commitments were Magnus's favourite. With somebody initially expecting to treat his services like buying a trinket. Use him for the deal and have their hands clean after.

No. In lieu of that , mortals got into a vicious spin to their graves. Sometimes, when Magnus came to collect the soul, he would do the honors of killing them personally. Not often, but sometimes. He could get in the mood occasionally. Like an itch to scratch when needed. The life had to be taken one way or another for the soul to be sent to Hell. Why not have it be taken Magnus's way.

It could be what he does this time. Extinguishing the light from Alexander Herondale's eyes himself, when their time together in the same vessel ended.

The easiest would be slitting the throat while he still had control over the body. But that was too boring.

There was something else too. Magnus found himself partially curious, about the other's life. Being so quick to refuse throwing the people in it under the bus. Insisting he be the only one confronted with the sacrifice for his brother. Why have it all on him? Martyr complex or people around him were honestly that valuable.

The matter of that drove Magnus to set their arrangement in motion. He watched the Father, overturned by his grief, give up on his soul. Ducking his head in slow painful agreement, thinking he'll have his last days for himself. But in reality signing away all that he had and all that he was.

Soon, echoes of the sinister contract reverberated through the walls, and Magnus Bane waited to claim it all. The ink was set, Alexander Herondale's soul in exchange for Jace Herondale, the enriching specifics added to it. The paper and pen were summoned with the demon's magic, whisking through the air to the mortal's unsteady hand.

Alexander wrote the fateful stroke of it, binding them with his signature.

The inevitable was committed, the glimmer of Magnus's eyes losing the blackness at that instant, a vivid and intense shade shifted instead, between hues of deep gold and molten amber. His pupils slit, accentuating his real countenance underneath the pure demonic nature of his gaze, when he stood rigid.

The air crackled with energy, an arcane force beginning to take hold. The ancient incantations echoed around the room.

A twist unknown, a shattered path.

For in the deal, a trap was spun,

The demon now, the mortal’s one.

In chains of flesh, his fire fades.

No soul to claim, no victory won,

The demon’s reign undone, unspun.

There was no Alexander Herondale to harvest the soul of. It was void, nonexistent, no man carrying that name. The Father's signature couldn't give the demon something unfound, imaginary. The Father was cloaked in a name that was not his own.

''Who?'' Magnus spoke in a barely audible susurration.

''Alec, like I told you. Alexander. I never said Herondale, you guessed because of my brother. I never lied to you, you created your delusion on your own.''

There was no Herondale. But there was the demon's extra terms binding Magnus to the deal, there were the elaborative nuances to assist him possessing the man's body. There was the mortal's sign on the paper, linking them and bringing them together.

The demon's core and spirit in the mortal's body, without the demon owning the Father's soul, that would be prison. Magnus Bane's own prison.

The demon’s eyes widened with a mixture of shock and fury. ''Every word you spoke, about your Jace, about the ache of his absence, about the desperate longing to restore him. Your grief over him.''

''It's all true,'' the Father replied. ''I attempted to keep my emotions in check, I tried not to cry, but- I lost him. I feel his absence, I miss his company. I feel the gap left by him. I wish for nothing more than to see him again." His expression hardened into one of resolute purpose. ''But we can't always have what we want, can we.''

He said it so simply. Knowing. Resigned.

We can't always have what we want.

He never intended to raise Jace back, wouldn't have gone through with it.

Alexander resumed, '' You told me to bring you down. I asked if that is really what you're inviting me to do. You were clear in your confirmation, asked me to give you my best shot. This is it.''

Then came the worst. It descended upon Magnus as his once-imposing presence began to flicker and wane. A violent, almost tangible force seemed to tear at the demon, at the very fabric of his being.

Magnus's essence- a swirling, smoky amalgam of golden shadows, darkness and amber- began to unravel from his corporeal form, being siphoned away. He expelled it in a fit of violent coughing, wrenched from his throat. It twisted and writhed in the air, a desperate dance of primal energy seeking to resist its inevitable fate. Drawn toward the mortal, where Alexander swallowed it.

The ritual concluded with a final, resounding silence and the pentagram fire going out.

He howls within the mortal’s skin,

The demon trapped, the prey to win.

A devil’s game, but tables turned,

The demon tricked, the mortal learned.

#shrb24

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moni26 · 8 months ago

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Echoes of a Sinister Contract

This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver.

I'm so happy to be part of this year's bang! I want to thank the organisers of this event, and especially my artist, Better_Than_Chocolate, for creating the incredible art you see below. It blew me away and helped me get into the atmosphere of the story every time ❤️ Check out Better_Than_Chocolate here and find more of their art and wonderful stories. Find their art post and their twitter here.

Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Mature Pairings: Magnus Bane / Alec Lightwood Summary:

Magnus watched the Father, overturned by his grief, give up on his soul. Ducking his head in slow painful agreement. Soon, echoes of the sinister contract reverberated through the walls, and Magnus Bane waited to claim it all. ----- A twist unknown, a shattered path. For in the deal, a trap was spun, The demon now, the mortal’s one. In chains of flesh, his fire fades. No soul to claim, no victory won, The demon’s reign undone, unspun.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

#shrb24 #malec #fanfiction #magnus bane #alec lightwood

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moni26 · 8 months ago

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Art for Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024

This artwork was created for the Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver.

Link to the art here.

Title: Through the storm, written by kate_kate

Read the story here.

I'm so happy to be part of this year's bang! I want to thank the organisers of this event, and especially my writer, kate_kate, for writing untill 3am some days and bringing my vision of this story into words❤️

Summary of the story: Simon Lewis is a young man on the verge of reaching his happiness: he’s going to be appointed as captain of the ship after an honorable career as a sailor, and he’s going to marry the love of his life, Maia. But envy and greed from those who believed his friends send him in front of the prosecutor Morgenstern, through a false, incriminating letter, and after that to a prison on a remote island no one ever escaped from. A meeting with another prisoner, Ragnor Fell, will completely change his life, though: his companion will give Simon an education he’d never had and a map for a treasure that will offer him the tool to get revenge against those who robbed him of life and happiness. His freedom will also bring him to unexpectedly fall in love again.

Check out more of my writer's incredible fics here.

#shrb24 #simon lewis #maia roberts #jace wayland #simon/maia/jace #shadowhunters #artwork #shadowhunters art

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moni26 · 8 months ago

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Art for Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024

This artwork was created for the Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver.

Who asked for more This World Inverted Malec with a spin? Here it comes :) I had such an amazing time participating in this event and creating this art. Check out my amazing writer @la-muerta and find the story here, as well as more of their shadowhunters and malec works here.

#shrb24 #malec #artwork #shadowhunters #shadowhunters art #magnus bane #alec lightwood

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moni26 · 1 year ago

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Nephilim 1201M, REDNAXELA (chapter 13) Fictober 2023 day 7 - “Do you recognise this?” Malectober 2023 day 6 + day 18 + day 12 - Ramen + Dessert + Cry

Fanfiction Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Mature Pairings: Magnus Bane / Alec Lightwood Summary: The nephilim were unkillable, because they couldn't get sick and couldn't be touched. That was one of the basic certainties in the Shadow World. They were a safe bet to call upon when in danger, even if a bit too ignorant and full of themselves.

Magnus had worked with them and spoken to them, rolled his eyes at them and occasionally engaged in verbal sparring. Nothing more, as they belonged in their own little closed off world.

He never planned to end up learning one's true name.

Neither did he know what he was supposed to do with it.

(The premise is very loosely inspired by a concept from The Inheritance Cycle book series)

Created for fictober-event and @malectober

#fictober23 #malectober23 #shadowhunters #malec #fanfic

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moni26 · 1 year ago

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Writer sign-ups for the Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024: Presented by the Malec Discord Server are officially open!

Writer sign-ups will close on May 16, 2024 at 8:00pm EST. That gives you four more days to read the rules, the FAQ, and the schedule to convince yourself to join.

We are so excited to bring back another year of artists taking the reins, and writers finding inspiration with their incredible works.

You might be asking yourself, what is a reverse bang? The Shadowhunters Reverse Bang is a collaborative fandom event that combines fandom talents! Artists create never-before-seen art that writers will find inspiration in and create an entirely new story based off of, and together, they create magic.

Who can participate? In order to participate in this reverse bang, you must be a part of the Malec Discord Server. You must be over 16 to participate and over 18 to create explicit works.

All other rules and FAQs can be found here or underneath the cut!

The schedule as it currently stands is below. This schedule is subject to change depending on the situation. You will be notified of any changes.

Artists Sign-ups Open - March 9 Artist Sign-ups Closed - April 6 Writer Sign-ups Open - April 7 Artist Check-in #1 - Due May 1 Artist Pinch Hitter Requests - May 1 Writer Sign-ups Closed - May 16 Art Submissions Due - May 16 Art Claims Open - May 18 Art Claims Closed - May 20 Matches Revealed - May 25 Writer & Artist Check-in - Due July 1 Writer & Artist Check-in - Due August 1 Final Check-in (Fics & Art Due) - August 25 Posting Begins - August 31

General Rules:

You must be part of the Malec Discord Server to participate in this event.

You must be over 16 to participate and over 18 to create explicit works.

All content must be brand new and never before posted to any forum. All content must be polished and finished. No unfinished works or WIPs that you plan on continuing later will be accepted. Works that are added chapters/continuations of previously published works are not permitted unless they can be viewed/read as a standalone.

All AI content is prohibited.

Artists are asked not to talk about their projects until after claims with anyone participating in this event to keep writer claims fair.

All content must focus on Shadowhunters universe characters.

All Shadowhunters characters/ships are accepted. OCs/borrowed characters will be accepted as minor characters.

AUs and crossovers are accepted as long as the Shadowhunters characters are the main focus.

Content of any rating and subject matter is accepted, but participants must make sure to include any relevant warnings and properly tag their work.

No blatantly hateful content of any kind.

Artists must communicate readily with their assigned writer and vice versa. This is a collaborative effort and writers must be open to the ideas the artists have. The same courtesy is asked of artists.

When you sign up for this event you are making a commitment to yourself, the Mods, and your future partner(s) to meet all posted deadlines and to communicate with the Mods and your partner(s) regularly. Please don’t sign up for the event unless you are confident that you can fully participate and be honest with yourself about what you can commit to.

Please respect the Mods and anyone working with you throughout this event. Certain complaints may disqualify you from this event.

The password to make sure you understand all rules is SHRB24. Remember this when you sign up.

Writer Specific Rules:

Writers must write a minimum of 4,000 words to participate in this event. There is no maximum limit but please keep in mind the time constraints of this event.

Writers are expected to be respectful of the artists’ ideas, likes, dislikes, and rating preferences. Writers are expected to be in contact with their artist about specific changes/ideas they might have along the way.

Writers must base their fics off of the art prompt they claim. For example, if the art features Clary as an art student, the fic should not be Malec-focused with Clary attending an art school in the background. The fic should be primarily about Clary being an art student.

Writers signing up for the event may not get their first pick when assigned art. Please be mindful of this! Ending your commitment because of this is not permitted and if you feel this will be an issue you should not sign up for the event.

Plagiarism and AI content will not be tolerated. All content must be the writer’s own original work.

Artist Specific Rules:

Artists must create at least one finished project and no more than two finished projects for this event.

Accepted forms of submitted art include:

Digital/physical art: 1 piece, 500px minimum

Photomanipulation: 1 piece with significant editing

Gifsets: 4 gifs (without watermarks)

Moodboards: 6 graphics

Video: 1 minute

Playlists: 10 songs and a graphic

Abstract art/line art, original songs, and poems will also be accepted as long as the prompt given to accompany it gives a clear picture for the writer.

Artists are expected to be respectful of the writer’s ideas. Artists are expected to be in contact with their writers about specific changes/ideas they might have along the way.

Artists will need somewhere to host their work so that it can be embedded on AO3.

Plagiarism will not be tolerated. If you are in need of stock images for your project please make sure that they are open source and that you provide the proper credits and sources. For gif creators using online gif makers, please remove watermarks before posting.

AI art is strictly prohibited.

Frequently Asked Questions

Why do I have to be a part of the Malec Discord Server to participate? All continuous communication for this event will be provided in a special category in the MDS. This includes all announcements, reminders, and ongoing requirements. If you want to join but don’t want access to the entire server, you can be given a Discord role based on your role in this event so the rest of the server is not accessible to you.

Sign-ups haven’t closed yet but I’m so excited about this challenge and really want to begin. Can I start working now? Artists are free to begin their piece(s) as soon as they read through the rules and requirements! Writers, unfortunately, will have to until they are matched with an artist, but we appreciate your enthusiasm for this event!

Can I sign up for more than one role? Absolutely. Many bang participants sign up for multiple roles as long as you believe you can complete all pieces before the assigned deadline(s).

What if someone doesn’t have a match? In the event that the art prompts outnumber writers, we will do several rounds of claiming so that every art prompt has a writer. If writers outnumber art prompts, we will open up the art prompts so that more than one writer is assigned to the same artist or ask artists if they are interested in completing more art. Every artist will be matched with at least one writer and vice versa.

What if I’m matched with an art prompt/partner I don’t want? The Mods (and most artists) would never want someone to create something that makes them uncomfortable, so if there is an art prompt that you don’t want to be matched with, don’t choose it during claims.

If you have any legitimate concerns about a partner (i.e. harassment or rude behavior), we ask that you please notify the Mods. Intervention by the Mods will not occur simply because of disliking story/design choices or the content they’re producing. Mods will not allow any rude or dismissive behavior by any participant. Please just be nice and work hard to help each other.

Can I repost old art or reuse/add to a WIP? No, All content must be brand new and never before posted to any forum. More on this in the rules.

What if I’m not around when claims occur? Claims will span three days and will not be on a first come first serve basis so as long as you are able to submit your interest in those three days, chances are you’ll be matched with one of your top three choices.

What if I’m not positive I can finish within the deadline? When you sign up for this event you are making a commitment to yourself, the Mods, and your future partner(s) to meet all posted deadlines and to communicate with the Mods and your partner(s) regularly. Please don’t sign up for the event unless you are confident that you can fully participate and be honest with yourself about what you can commit to.

What if something comes up after claims and I need to drop out? We understand that dropping out due to unforeseen circumstances can and will happen. We are/have always been very understanding when this happens and are willing to work with you. The quicker you let us know, the more options the Mods have.

How can I contact the Mods? Send us an ask on here or join the Discord server where we are more accessible.

#shadowhunters reverse bang #shrb24 #shadowhunters #malec #writers

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