#Anyway this book was so good it's called Poppy by Andrew Lack

[puppyocto]

The symbolism of poppies and abusive fh

Do you guys ever think about the symbolism of poppies in Jimmy and Scott's relationship cause I do. Too much I read a book about poppies so I could understand it better. By the way you have to already believe in abusive flower husbands for this we're going straight into it. Ok now poppies are red and this, this could be so simple. Red is the colour of love and is Jimmy's favourite colour so that's all it is right? Well red also symbolises rage and anger. And it's such a sharp colour. Unlike Scott, Scott is subtle in ways red is not. So in many ways Scott is fighting against the colour red, it is all the things he is not and directly calls out his flaws. We see this in Scott's colour palette, Scott is blue directly contrasting red. Now Jimmy shares a lot of traits with the colour red, Jimmy like the colour is sharp and aggressive, and while we love that about him Scott does not. We see the same arguments Scott's colour palette has with the colour red in Jimmy and Scott's relationship. Scott spends a lot of the relationship removing any "red elements" from Jimmy's personality, breaking him down to a calmer, but more disengaged person. So the fact that the flower Jimmy gives Scott is red shows the ways he will give up himself. And I think in many ways the red poppy is a demonstration of who Jimmy should've been. But poppies only trait isn't being red, they are also symbols of farming. Yet within this they are an agricultural weed. So all I can imagine here is Jimmy planting poppies in their farm as a sweet gesture about their future success and Scott telling him off about how they will hinder the crops growing. And is Scott wrong? No. But he doesn't even attempt to understand Jimmy's gesture or where Jimmy is coming from. And finally Poppies produce opium, which I think links to the ways Jimmy unhealthily copes with being placed in an abusive relationship. Linking to his internalisation of Scott's behaviour rather than leaving Scott or understanding that he is in the wrong. The death symbolism of the opium poppy also links to the innate danger Jimmy is in not just within the life series as a whole but while he is around Scott.

[silver-lily-louise]

Nephil’s Best Friend

Alec’s heart lurches in sympathy, and he drops slowly into a crouch, keeping himself angled away slightly so as not to seem confrontational. ‘Hey there,’ he croons, gratified when the dog doesn’t immediately run, at least. ‘What’re you doing out here, huh?’ Pretty much pure fluff, set a couple of years post-canon. Alec finds a puppy on his way home, takes it to the local shelter, and accidentally descends into a web of lies. 

Read it on ao3, or below!

~oOo~

Magnus is always out late on Tuesdays. With his position as High Warlock of Alicante still being relatively new, the higher-ups of the Spiral Labyrinth are eager to keep their fingers on the pulse as Downworlders slowly become established within the bounds of Idris – and Tuesday evenings are apparently when the Council’s schedule most conveniently overlaps with Magnus’ own.

Which means that tonight, Alec is walking home. Thankfully, it’s a pleasant evening for it, the thunderstorm from earlier having cleared up into a bright and cheerful summer sunset; and the streets are quiet by this time, too. After spending all but a few of his earliest years in New York – where the Shadowhunters are up all hours on patrols, instead of keeping a nine-to-five in political offices, and where there are Mundanes causing noise and light all around them too – Alec’s not quite sure, still, whether the quiet of his journey home is pleasant or eerie.

But tonight, a better word for that tranquility might be useful, or lucky. Because in the bustle of New York, he likely would have dismissed any non-demonic rustle in the shadows. Now, however, he stops in his tracks, his hand automatically going to his single holstered blade as he turns towards the alleyway, even though he’s not so much wary as curious. ‘Someone there?’ he calls softly. The whined answer he gets isn’t human, he knows that much, and so he moves forward slowly, not wanting to spook - - the puppy that he finds there, cowering in the meager shelter of the building’s overhang, which clearly hasn’t been enough to keep it out of the storm because the poor thing is soaked through.

Alec’s heart lurches in sympathy, and he drops slowly into a crouch, keeping himself angled away slightly so as not to seem confrontational. ‘Hey there,’ he croons, gratified when the dog doesn’t immediately run, at least. ‘What’re you doing out here, huh?’ He wonders if the pup has a home – it’s not likely, given its emaciated state and the lack of a collar. Strays never used to be a problem in Idris, really; but of course, that was before a rift opened above the capital. Before dozens of soldiers left their beloved four-legged companions safely at home in their kennels and yards and cellars, and went to fight a battle they wouldn’t return from.

He pushes that thought aside, for now, and roots around in his pocket, smiling when he encounters a few chicken-flavoured biscuits. ‘They’re meant for our balcony cats,’ he explains gently, scattering them in a line between him and the puppy. ‘But I think you’ll like them anyway.’ He’s immediately proved right, of course, the starving pup sniffing out each biscuit quickly and following the line towards him, scarfing them down. When it steps out of the shadows a bit, Alec’s heart melts a little further – this isn’t exactly a small puppy, it’s already nearly as big as a fully-grown cat. But it’s clearly still young, ears which look like they ought to be pointed still floppy around wide, dark amber eyes, and not even any gangly quality to the paws just yet.

A pup this young, he reasons, likely doesn’t have any reason to be afraid of people yet. The way it’s come close enough to get the last few cat treats would suggest that, too. If he’s right, and if he’s careful, it should be happy enough for Alec to pick it up and take it somewhere safe.

And if he’s wrong… well, that’s what iratzes are for, right?

Decided, Alec reaches out – firmly, but not suddenly – and scritches the pup’s scruff for a moment. ‘Alright, then,’ he murmurs, reaching out his other hand in the same manner, ‘up we go.’ The pup squirms in his arms for a moment, clearly surprised by the change in elevation. But then the water in its fur seeps through Alec’s shirt, and in turn, the pup must realize that it’s essentially being treated to some body heat after being out in the storm. It settles down, snuggling into the crook of his elbow.

Alec smiles, satisfied. ‘There we go,’ he says, slowly, slowly coming up from his crouch. ‘Let’s get you someplace warm and dry, huh?’

He turns on his heel, and starts walking in the direction he came from.

Just past the offices of the Gard, a response to the increasing stray problem has finally popped up in the form of a small, fairly informal animal shelter. The Shadowhunter behind the desk right now looks up as Alec walks in, and their polite smile immediately shifts into something more sympathetic. ‘Oh, dearie me. What have we here?’

Alec gently sets the pup down on the lowered, cut-away part of the desk, its claws tapping sharply against the anti-slip metal – the receptionist doesn’t seem to disapprove, so he thinks he’s understood its purpose well enough. ‘Someone who got caught in the storm,’ he says by way of reply. ‘There’s no collar, so I hoped you might be able to help.’ ‘Absolutely – you did the right thing bringing her in,’ the receptionist confirms. They crouch a little to look the dog over, examining the ears and eyes before running gentle, deft hands over each limb.

It's not long before they straighten up again. ‘Well, good news,’ they say. ‘She doesn’t seem to be hurt in any way.’ Alec finds himself breathing out a sigh of relief. ‘Glad to hear it. Thank you.’ The receptionist rolls up their now-damp sleeves, and gives Alec a wan but genuine smile. ‘We can take it from here. Rest assured, she’s in good hands.’

And Alec knows that’s a dismissal – but between the sight of the puppy still shivering a little, and the slightly concerning number of endurance and stamina runes on the receptionist’s bared forearms, he hesitates. ‘I could… stay and help for a while, if you want?’ he offers. ‘Either with her, or if there’s something else that needs to be done while you’re…?’

The receptionist considers him for a moment – and then gives a slow nod. ‘You’re very kind,’ they say. ‘We are pretty understaffed right now. You’ll need supervision, obviously, but it could be useful to have an extra pair of hands.’ They turn briefly to a square blue folder, opening it up and taking a pen. ‘If I could just take your name and get you signed in for our records?’ ‘…Gideon,’ Alec finds himself saying. ‘Underhill,’ he adds, hoping that Andrew wasn’t exaggerating about the number of cousins he has in Idris.

Apparently he wasn’t, because the receptionist doesn’t think twice, just jots down the name he’s given and closes the book. ‘All right, Gideon. I’ll find someone to cover the desk, and we can go and get this one – oh,’ they say, their face lighting up. ‘Which reminds me, the first order of business should probably be a name for this little one. Since you brought her in, any ideas?’ Alec looks at the puppy once more – and is suddenly reminded of red fields under warm Spanish sunshine, the image as vivid as it was in person thirteen years ago.

A soft smile pulls at his expression. ‘How about Poppy?’

 .

His evening at the shelter passes quickly. Alec helps to set up Poppy’s new little room, cleans up the muddy footprints a collie cross tracked in from outside, and helps the receptionist – who introduces herself as Christina – scrub down and rearrange the outside exercise course; and by the time they’ve done all that, Alec is excusing himself and rushing home, only getting there a few minutes before Magnus portals in and immediately starts waxing lyrical about how incredibly annoying that pompous old moron Claudius has been all day.

It’s not until they’re in bed, with Magnus already asleep, that Alec realizes they’ve managed to talk about everything except his trip to the shelter. Oh well, he muses – it’s not really that important. He can tell Magnus all about it another time.

***

The rest of the week is something of a nightmare. It feels like every ten minutes there’s another hour-long meeting, every Shadowhunter Alec deals with has an interfering political agenda, and – worst of all – everyone on the continent suddenly needs Magnus’ help and can accept no substitute. (Which is fair enough; Magnus is, Alec’s pretty sure, one of the most powerful warlocks alive. That doesn’t mean Alec has to like how in-demand and busy his husband is, though.)

Still, it’s something they’re both used to by now; they make do with stolen snatches of time, curling up exhausted on the couch or digging in ravenously (and therefore silently) to their takeout before clambering into bed, all clumsy tired kisses and murmurs of I love you, get some sleep, okay? Overall, their evenings are an oasis of calm that make the week bearable. They don’t, however, provide Alec with an opportunity to tell Magnus about his unusual evening at the dog shelter.

And then suddenly, it’s Tuesday again. Alec packs up his things, heads out of the building… and turns left, towards the shelter.

When he gets there, it’s not Christina who greets him from behind the front desk this time – it’s Sophie, the young woman who took over last week while Christina and Alec moved Poppy in. ‘Hi,’ she says brightly. ‘I remember you – Gideon, right?’ ‘Right,’ Alec says with a smile. ‘I thought I’d come check in, if that’s okay – I wanted to ask how the dog I brought in is doing? Poppy?’

Sophie nods and scrolls through something on her computer, before reporting that Poppy is apparently settling in quite well; she’s a little timid around the bigger dogs, but she’s taken well to her food and her new routine. Alec thanks Sophie for the update. And then he says, ‘Do you guys need a hand with anything this evening?’

 .

The walk home this week isn’t such a rush, and so Alec has some time to think about the situation he’s gotten himself into – the one that’s based on a lot more deception than he’d typically be comfortable with.

He’s realized, now, why he lied about his name the day he took Poppy in. However much he values the opportunities his career path has given him to make the world a better place, he’s never been one for the spotlight, and he misses the anonymity of just being a foot soldier sometimes. So when he wasn’t recognized, that part of him clearly latched onto the opportunity and ran with it. Alright, he decides. So that means coming clean about his real name at the shelter isn’t an option. But equally, he doesn’t want to stop going – he wants it to be a regular thing, if they’ll have him. Even if they don’t know his real identity (or maybe even because they don’t), it’s nice there. He likes spending time with the animals, of course; and on a deeper level, it’s nice to make such clear progress without nearly as much pressure, when his day job feels like the exact opposite sometimes.

Fine. So he’ll keep going, and keep using the fake name while he’s there. That just leaves the fact he hasn’t told Magnus yet, and that’s easily rectified. All it takes is for Alec not let it slip his mind tonight, and just tell Magnus about his evening.

…Except, for some weird reason, he doesn’t want to.

That’s the snag Alec’s mind keeps catching on, and he can feel himself frowning as he walks the last few blocks home. He tells Magnus everything, provided it’s his to tell. He likes telling Magnus everything. Keeping secrets isn’t something he usually enjoys, especially when it comes to his husband. But for some reason, this is different. This secret – however accidentally it formed – feels fun, for lack of a better word. Alec kind of wants to keep it to himself, at least for a little while.

Their building comes into sight, Alec instinctively glancing up at their windows on the top floor – and then he smiles, his decision made. There’s no harm in keeping his weekly exploits quiet, for now. He thinks that Magnus might even approve of it. After all, a harmless, light-hearted secret, kept only for the sake of mystery… isn’t that pretty close to being coy?

***

On Tuesday, September 7th, Magnus has a plan, and he’s fairly proud of himself for it.

He’s not the best at keeping track of ages – truth be told, he hasn’t known his own to the year for a good few decades now – but he does try to keep track of milestone birthdays. For example, he knows that he doesn’t have to worry about Ragnor’s millennium for another century or so; he knows that the plans for Catarina’s fifth centennial in a few years are safely underway; and he knows that Raphael is still over a decade off of one-hundred, plus that he’s already threatened disownment if Magnus makes a big deal of it.

Relevantly for today, he also knows (yes, all right, after a quick text to Isabelle just to check) that Alexander is turning thirty in five days; and obviously, that calls for something special.

He’s thought on it for a while, and he knows exactly what to get his husband on such an occasion – which one of their idle conversations over the years holds this newest key to making Alec smile. I feel like I’ve missed something. Is there a reason Madzie’s drawn you with a hellhound? It’s a regular dog, Magnus. The red eyes are just because the black marker ran out. But no, there’s no reason, she just knows I like dogs. …I didn’t know you liked dogs. I wasn’t aware you had any experience with them. Well, not a lot. But there were all these strays around the Madrid Institute, back when Izzy was stationed there, and whenever I got to visit her we’d spend hours outside with them. Kicking a ball around for them to chase, feeding them whatever scraps we’d managed to sneak out – you know, that kinda thing. That sounds like a good memory. So, does this mean canine companionship is in the cards for your future? I don’t know. I hope so.

Of course, in Magnus' opinion, Alexander deserves a pedigree companion – a dog with the best possible genetic history, screened against all illness and with irrefutable evidence of long-lived parents and grandparents. But, as with many things, there is a certain gap between what Alec deserves and what he wants; and because Magnus has turned out to be surprisingly good at this whole husband thing, he generally knows which one to go for on any given occasion.

So, on this particular Tuesday evening, at a time when he's usually working and so Alec has no reason to expect him home, Magnus heads to the local animal shelter. 'Good evening,' he says cheerfully to the receptionist. 'I'm Magnus Lightwood-Bane. I called yesterday about potentially adopting a dog?'

They talk for a while about what might be best for him, dog-wise - he asks for one that's fairly large, if possible (after all, Alexander is a veritable tree, and deserves a dog he can rough-and-tumble with if he wishes), emphasizes that they absolutely must be able to exercise a certain level of civility with cats, and reassures the lady from the front desk – Christina – that the nature of his work means that he is very rarely out of the loft for prolonged stretches, and that he is more than happy to establish the proper care on the rare occasion it does happen.

Christina smiles at him, and leads the way to an enclosed outdoor playpen of sorts, with a few dog toys spread over the simple agility setup. 'I think we might just have the perfect fit for you, Mr. Lightwood-Bane,' she says. 'I'll get Gideon to bring her out so you can meet her.'

***

Alec is rationing out servings of cat food for tomorrow's breakfast service when Christina appears. 'Gideon,' she says with a smile, 'we have a -' 'Chris!' Josef suddenly rounds the corner, skidding into the room with a vaguely panicked expression. 'We need you – Tibbs got into the storeroom somehow.' Christina curses. 'Alright. Gideon, I need you to take Poppy through to the meet-and-greet, I think she's finally got a good match here. I’ll check in with you afterwards.' With that, she turns on her heel and strides off to deal with the stubborn moggy who, for some unknown reason, only lets her near him.

Once he's alone again, Alec deflates a little – but this is good news, he tells himself firmly. In the months he’s known her, Christina's very rarely been wrong with her instincts on rehoming, and Poppy deserves a good, loving place to grow up. She deserves a family – one that can focus more wholly on her needs than even the best-run shelter could.

Still, that doesn't stop Alec’s heart breaking a little as he goes and fetches one of the leashes, then bends down to scruff Poppy behind the ears as he clips it on. 'Come on, girl,' he says quietly. 'There's someone here for you to meet.' He leads her down the now-familiar corridors, turns towards the meet-and-greet area, plasters a professional smile on his face as he opens the door - - and stops dead in his tracks.

Magnus looks back at him, wide-eyed for a moment; and then his mouth curves up into a surprised smile. 'Well, hello there,' he says teasingly. 'Gideon, I presume?'

 .

By the time Alec's done with his explanation, Magnus' expression has shifted into something amused and fond. 'It wasn't about keeping it from you,' Alec tries to explain anyway. 'It was just -' Magnus raises a hand to stop him, before letting it fall down to clasp Alec's. 'I know, darling. I'm not annoyed, I swear – a little mystery simply serves to keep the romance alive, hm?' He winks. 'I'm almost sorry I've discovered your secret. Though I suppose fair's fair, as I imagine your birthday present is hardly a surprise now.'

Alec blinks - and then his gaze darts down to Poppy, currently sitting between them and receiving pettings, though another zoomies-venture around the meet-and-greet is likely imminent. 'Oh,' Alec breathes – and he can feel his face twist into an excited grin as he looks back up at Magnus, god, in all the excitement he almost forgot why - 'You like her, then?' he checks, suddenly anxious. 'She can be ours? She's so smart, you wouldn't believe – she's got some issues with possessiveness, but we're working on it and she's making such good progress; and she's so good with cats, honestly, we've tested her with them and she -'

Magnus cuts him off with a laugh, nodding. 'Yes, darling,' he says, a playful, affectionate tilt still to his tone. 'Yes, we can take her. How could we not, when she's clearly already so attached to you?' He glances down with a smile at where Poppy's now stretching out and begging Alec for a belly rub - and then he looks back up, all business but for the glint in his eyes. 'All right then, Gideon. Would you please show me where I can sign the proper papers?' He smirks. 'I have a feeling my husband's going to love his birthday present.'

 .

The two of them manage to keep their cool through the signing process, thankfully. Magnus hands in the paperwork, and is given an appointment that Sunday to come pick Poppy up, once she’s had her final vet check. Alec finishes up his shift and heads home, with his colleagues none the wiser as to just who is going to be taking care of Poppy in the future.

 .

On the afternoon of Sunday, September 12th, Magnus goes to the shelter – alone, of course – and brings home their new puppy, who barks with joyful excitement once she realizes who’s waiting for her on the other side of the portal.

Naturally, Alec’s 30th birthday is his best one yet.

~oOo~