#SHtarot

[cuubism]

someone as frightened as you

Malec, T, h/c, fluff, post-canon, immortality

Tarot Challenge Prompt 2: Death

(read on AO3)

“Ah, fuck!”

Alec slashes the final demon with his blade, not stopping to watch it disintegrate as he clamps a hand over the gash its claw left in his arm. His hand spasms, sending the blade clattering to the ground, and blood wells between his fingers.

He wasn’t even supposed to be on patrol—he doesn’t do much demon hunting these days—but the Institute had been short staffed, and he couldn’t just leave them that way.

It’s good to know working behind a desk hasn’t made him too soft to take down a couple of demons.

Alec looks critically at the wound in his upper arm. It’s pretty deep, actually, but nothing that should be too difficult to heal. He quickly draws an iratze.

Which does… nothing.

Alec sighs, more irritated than anything. He’s experienced enough to know that the venom is pretty mild. It would probably work its way out of his system on its own in a few days, but he knows Magnus will insist on healing it once he gets home.

So that’s that problem sorted.

As he wipes his blade on his pant leg, Alec mentally ticks through the things he still has to do today. Patrol is over. He can write his report tomorrow. Paperwork is never done, which means it can wait. So he should be good to go home—

No, wait, he was planning to pick up flowers for Magnus.

He starts heading in that direction.

Magnus has been having a long few weeks, bouncing across the world to help with various minor emergencies, only coming back to the loft to sleep, if that. Last night, he got in after Alec was asleep, and was still dead to the world when Alec left at noon for the afternoon patrol.

Flowers may be just a small gesture, but Alec knows they’ll cheer Magnus up.

He glamours the blood and ichor all over him before stepping into the flower shop. He forgot to do that once and nearly caused a huge panic. It’s been nearly seventy-five years and Magnus still teases him about how he can never go back to that particular store.

The owner of this store knows him and puts together the bouquet he describes (something, uh, cheerful? with a lot of yellow?) with a warm smile. Magnus is convinced that she’s flirting with him, and has warned Alec to be careful not to accidentally break her poor heart, but Alec’s of the opinion that more than thirty flower arrangements “For My Beautiful Husband” should be enough to get a person to take a hint.

Then again, he’ll never understand Mundanes.

He pays for the flowers before any further attempts at flirting can occur, feeling a little jittery. Even after so long living this semi-domesticated life with Magnus, running mundane errands feels incredibly bizarre. You never really escape your upbringing, he supposes.

When he pushes open the doors of the loft, he doesn’t have to call out to know that Magnus isn’t home. The loft feels colder and darker without him there, regardless of the actual temperature or level of illumination.

Alec places the flowers in a vase in the kitchen, stopping with his arm outstretched when he catches sight of the blood soaking his sleeve. Shit. He should definitely bandage that.

In the bathroom, he carefully cuts away his sleeve—the shirt’s ruined anyway—and washes out the wound under the showerhead. The torn flesh continues to bleed sluggishly even when clean.

It’s fascinating, really, to be able to see past his skin and into his body, at the wiry muscles that let him move, the blood that keeps his heart beating. It’s all so fragile.

He hasn’t really thought about it, being fragile. Not since… well.

Growing up, death was ever-present. Not just a threat, a certainty. And then there was Magnus, and Alec decided that as long as Magnus was around, death was not something he would accept. Death went from a certainty to an impossibility.

If some person or demon doesn’t physically kill him, Alec just won’t die, he realizes. Not ever.

He’s dealt with the not dying. He hasn’t dealt with the ever.

He suddenly becomes aware that his hands are shaking, hard enough that he can no longer examine the wound. He should probably go lie down. Clearly, the lingering adrenaline from the battle is hitting him harder than he thought.

Oh, no, he realizes as his breathing quickens, that adrenaline’s not from the battle…

Fuck.

He stumbles back, clumsily switching off the water. If he can just make it to the bed…

He doesn’t.

Panic surges through his body, he sways, half-falls half-slides down the wall to the bathroom floor, pressing the palms of his hands to the cool tile.

Breathe. Breathe. For the love of— get it together.

He can’t get the thought out of his head: forever. That’s… a long time.

It’s an insanely stupid thought to have now, one hundred years after committing to it.

Distantly, he hears the sound of a portal opening.

“Alexander?”

Footsteps in the living room.

“Alec!”

Magnus sounds panicked, his voice pitched high and wobbling slightly. Alec knows that if he doesn’t say anything Magnus will find him eventually. Still:

“In here,” he calls weakly.

He hears approaching footsteps, then the bathroom door swings open. As soon as Magnus sees him he’s rushing forward, collapsing to his knees beside Alec’s crumpled form.

“Oh, darling, what happened?” his hands float over Alec’s body, unsure if he’s allowed to touch. “Are you hurt? I felt—”

Of course Magnus felt his panic. Their marriage bond connects them, heart and mind, no matter how far apart they are. Magnus is now tuned into Alec’s soul far more intimately than Jace ever was.

They don’t keep the connection fully open all the time. Alec would be content to always have Magnus in the corner of his mind, used to the feeling because of Jace, but he knows Magnus values the sanctity of his mental space, and would never begrudge him that. They open it deliberately at times—during sex, when cuddling or holding each other, during meetings when they want to know what the other is thinking, when one or both of them is heading into danger, when one of them is upset and needs to be comforted. But certain strong emotions break through regardless of intent.

Like now, apparently.

Magnus’s hand goes to Alec’s neck, grounding him as Alec struggles to draw in a full breath. His grip is steadying, a rock to hold onto amidst a current that’s sweeping him god knows where.

Forever.

Fuck.

“Breathe, love.” Magnus’s other hand presses to his heart, feeling its fluttering. His eyes dart all over, clearly looking for some cause of this breakdown. They land on the wound in his arm, but he must not think it’s too serious as he doesn’t remove either of his hands to heal it. “Easy, you’re alright.”

Alec thinks that’s debatable. His heart is hammering louder and louder in his chest, and staring at Magnus is just reminding him that it never ends, oh god—

“Magnus,” he says, “Magnus, Magnus—”

Magnus must sense him spiraling, for suddenly he’s pushing Alec’s knees down so he can climb into his lap. His thighs pressing onto Alec’s are a strong weight holding him to the ground, his body radiates heat that Alec can feel in his chest, his hands come up to hook under his jaw. Alec needs that weight, that heat, that grip. He’s flying away in a cold wind.

“Shh,” Magnus says, “shh, darling, it’s alright. It will be alright. Tell me what’s bothering you, hmm?”

“Forever,” Alec manages to say.

Magnus’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s so long.” Alec feels like an idiot.

Understanding dawns across Magnus’s face, and he shifts back slightly in Alec’s lap. He probably doesn’t think Alec notices, but he does. Magnus’s body has gone tense under his hands, the smile he plasters on is strained.

“It is,” he says. “It is, I’m sorry.”

Alec’s heart jumps, and he knows, just knows, that Magnus has drawn entirely the wrong conclusion from his words. A conclusion that, in retrospect, he should have known Magnus would come to.

“No, I didn’t mean—”

But Magnus is already shifting back further, as if to get up, releasing Alec’s face. Alec snags his wrists and holds them, feeling Magnus’s pulse hammer under his thumbs. Magnus swallows hard and avoids his gaze.

Nothing can cut through Alec’s panic like that tremulous expression on Magnus’s face.

“Look at me,” Alec says, the words almost getting stuck in his throat with how effortlessly he’s ripped the floor out from beneath Magnus’s feet.

“You don’t have to explain—”

“I’ve never regretted my time with you,” Alec interrupts.

Magnus finally looks up at him, startled.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Alec continues. “That I suddenly realized I made a mistake in staying with you. That’s not what I meant.”

He releases Magnus’s wrists to cup his face between his palms, and Magnus offers him a small smile.

“I always feared it was inevitable,” he admits.

“I know, and I hate that.” Alec runs his thumbs over Magnus’s cheekbones, relishing the way he closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

He can never get over how it feels to hold Magnus like this, knowing that he’s holding his entire being between his hands, and that Magnus is letting him. It’s a reminder of how fragile Magnus actually is, how underneath the glitter and magic he’s just blood and bone like all the rest of them. There is nothing more frightening than knowing that this soul he loves more than the whole world lives in a breakable body.

Alec still remembers the first time, so long ago now, that he saw Magnus bleed. It was a minor wound, similar to the one he’s currently sporting on his arm, but it nearly sent him into a blind panic. The idea that his strong, solid, immortal boyfriend could be broken open so easily had been terrifying. Alec had wanted to follow Magnus around as his personal bodyguard for weeks.

Of course, he’s since realized that he has far more to fear from Magnus’s internal injuries than his external ones.

Especially the ones Alec himself inflicts.

He presses a quick kiss to Magnus’s lips, and says, “Come on. I could never get enough of you. You know that.”

Magnus sighs, pressing his forehead against Alec’s. “I do. I’m sorry.”

Alec releases his face to run a hand up and down his back. “It’s okay.”

Magnus huffs, his breath warm against Alec’s lips. “You were upset about something. I’ve derailed your panic attack.”

Alec snorts. “Yeah, because I was enjoying that so much.”

Magnus pulls back, looking at him in concern. “What was bothering you, then?”

Alec feels his cheeks heat. He ducks his head. “Oh god, it’s going to sound so stupid.”

Magnus takes a hold of his chin and tilts his face back up. “Please tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Alec sighs, trying to articulate his thoughts, “I just don’t think I ever really processed it. The idea of just… staying alive forever, and never dying. It’s— it’s weird.”

The corners of Magnus’s lips quirk up in a half-amused, half-sympathetic smile. “It’s overwhelming.”

“Yeah. How do you handle it?”

Magnus shrugs self-deprecatingly. “Mostly, I don’t, to be honest. It’s too much to think about on a daily basis. But it helps to have someone who understands what you’re dealing with. It’s why the Warlock community is so tight-knit.”

“Makes sense.”

“What I’m trying to say is,” Magnus pats his chest, “you have those people. Me, and Cat, and Simon. But especially me. You know you can always talk to me about it? You’re not alone in this.”

Magnus looks a little out of breath after all that. Alec kisses the corner of his mouth. “And neither are you,” he tells him.

Magnus blinks once, twice. Then pushes onward: “It also helps to think not of immortality, but of just a very long lifespan.” He smiles a little, bittersweet. “No one is truly immortal, Alexander. We may be beyond the reach of age, but death will come for us all eventually, whether we’re killed by demons or just done in by a piece of bad steak.”

It’s unexpectedly comforting. That infinite, amorphous mass of life stretching out before him isn’t infinite after all. Not that he wants it to end anytime soon, not when he has Magnus here with him, not when he still has more to do.

“There’s no real forever,” Magnus concludes.

“Even if there were, I would still want it with you,” Alec says, “even though it scares the shit out of me.”

Magnus softens. “Oh, my love. Me too.”

“Does it scare you? Immortality?”

“It terrifies me.” Magnus’s expression turns suddenly, unexpectedly light. He grins. “Why do you think I spend so much time not thinking about it?”

“Because you specialize in avoidance?”

Magnus jerks back, looking startled—though not hurt, Alec’s relieved to see—by the accuracy of the jab. Halfway through, the motion shifts to a more intentional languid lean that has Alec suppressing a smile at Magnus’s attempt to disguise his reaction.

Magnus smiles, long and slow, and tilts his head, and Alec just knows he has it coming for him. “Oh, I’m the one who’s been avoiding?”

“Shut up.” Alec leans in to place a couple of smacking kisses on Magnus’s smug face. “You’ve had way longer to get used to this.”

“Are you calling me old, Alexander?”

“Yes.”

“Rude.” Magnus returns his kisses. “Very rude. What shall we do about that?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Carte blanche?” Magnus leans in to nip under Alec’s jaw. “It’s a good thing we have a lot of time, then.”

“Maybe we can move somewhere else before we get started? I’m losing feeling in my legs.”

Magnus looks down at where his thighs are still pressing Alec’s against the floor. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we, darling? How else would you pick me up, and press me against the wall, and f—”

“Yeah, because that’s the only reason I need legs,” Alec interrupts before Magnus can distract him to the point that he truly loses circulation.

“I can’t possibly think of another.”

“You’re really in a mood today, huh?”

“Don’t get snippy with me,” Magnus pouts. “I haven’t touched my husband in weeks.”

“Neither have I.”

“And you’re thriving.”

“Magnus, are we getting up off the floor, or not?”

“I don’t know, Alexander, are we?” Magnus looks down his nose at him in clear challenge, sedately curling his fingers around Alec’s neck, and that’s it. Alec will show him.

He wraps his hands around Magnus’s thighs, tucks his feet under himself as best he can, and pushes up the wall to standing. Magnus is no help at all, an absolute dead weight in Alec’s arms, smiling serenely down at him like a prince on his chariot.

“Where to now, my liege?”

Magnus frowns in thought. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps the kitchen? I’m feeling rather peckish.” He grins sharply down at Alec, eyes twinkling.

“As you—”

Alec’s injured arm gives out on him.

Magnus tumbles from his grip with an undignified yelp, landing, somehow, mostly on his feet. Alec clamps a hand over the wound, which is suddenly on fire.

“Shit,” he grits out, “I forgot about that.”

Magnus crowds up to him, prying his hand off his arm. “Let me see.”

He scans the gash with his magic and visibly relaxes. “It’s not too serious. Why didn’t you heal it?”

“Tried. Iratze didn’t work. Some kind of mild venom.”

Magnus swats his uninjured arm. “Alexander! You’ve been walking around with an infected wound?”

Alec shrugs. “Had more important things to do.”

“Like what, pray tell?”

“Getting you flowers.”

Magnus softens, running a soothing hand down Alec’s arm. “While I love getting flowers from you, please know that I prefer you to be conscious when delivering them.”

Alec grins. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Let’s clear this up.” Magnus’s playfulness vanishes as he directs his complete focus to the wound, healing it with a flash of magic that’s a balm to Alec’s soul. He’s missed the touch of Magnus’s magic during these past few weeks.

“There.” Magnus presses a kiss to the pink, healed skin. “All better.”

“That free-of-charge Warlock TLC is really one of the main benefits of this marriage,” Alec says.

“Oh, but it’s not free-of-charge this time.”

“It’s not?”

“Nope,” Magnus says, popping the ‘p,’ as he grabs a fistful of Alec’s shirt and drags him into a kiss.

Alec returns it wholeheartedly, relishing in the warmth of his lips as Magnus kisses him messily, biting at his bottom lip, his hands tugging at his shirt, seemingly trying to yank it off without moving away from his face.

Magnus taps at Alec’s arm. “We weren’t finished.”

“You want me to pick you up?”

“Mmmhmm.” Magnus stretches like a cat, twining his arms around Alec’s neck again, playing with his hair. “Just don’t throw me this time.”

Alec gapes at him indignantly. “I didn’t throw you.”

Magnus shrugs. “Agree to disagree.”

“There’s nothing to— never mind.” Alec hauls Magnus back up. Magnus wraps his legs around his waist, grinning. He looks so self-satisfied.

“Ooh, so strong,” Magnus purrs, petting his chest, his arms.

Even though Magnus is hard to hold—he’s actually pretty heavy and is constantly squirming around—Alec finds having him in his arms extremely comforting, especially after weeks spent barely seeing each other. That weight means Magnus is here with him, that squirming means Magnus is alive, and Alec feels like with a firm grip on him, he can keep him safe. He knows Magnus doesn’t need his protection most of the time, but that isn’t going to stop Alec from providing it.

He tamps down the sudden surge of affection he feels so he can focus enough to quip back, “This is really a thing for you now, isn’t it?”

Magnus lifts a hand to his forehead in a mock faint, closing his eyes. “What can I say? I’m but a poor traveler, exhausted from my wanderings across the lands and in desperate need of a hero to sweep me off my feet! And lo, one appears! How am I to be blamed when the presence of such a dashing Shadowhunter in my home renders me unable to walk?”

Alec squints at him. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“I slept last night.”

“I meant before that.”

Magnus’s lips purse as he thinks. “Tuesday.”

“It’s Saturday.”

Magnus’s expression turns sheepish. “I may be a bit delirious.”

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Are you going to help fulfill my wild fantasies?” Magnus’s breath tickles Alec’s neck. “Or… not?” He nips at the skin, sucking a mark there.

Yeah, Alec thinks, breathless, I would do anything for you. He says, “What’s in it for me?”

Magnus smirks and rolls his hips. “Why don’t you find out?”

Alec grins and tries to kiss the smirk off his face. Magnus leans in, taking advantage of his new height to press down into Alec’s mouth, hot and messy, his hands going to Alec’s hair. He tugs.

Alec follows the pull of his hands, stumbling a little as he tries to walk with Magnus’s face blocking his line of sight. As they approach the bed, an idea occurs to him.

Magnus frowns down at him. “I don’t like that look on your face. Alexander, what’s that look?”

Alec keeps his expression carefully neutral. “Oh, nothing.”

“Alec—”

He doesn’t get any further because Alec suddenly pries Magnus away from his torso and throws him. Magnus shrieks, landing on the bed in a flurry of bouncing pillows. He pushes himself upright, mouth agape, hair going in all directions, looking absolutely scandalized. “Alexander!”

“Now that,” Alec says, looking down at him triumphantly, “is throwing you.”

Magnus just stares at him, lost for words.

“What? I thought you were fantasizing about being tossed into bed by a big, strong Shadowhunter?”

Magnus plays with his ear, smiling a little. “Well, now that you mention it…” He leans back onto the pillows, beckons Alec with a finger. “Are you going to finish what you started?”

“Oh, you started this.” But Alec’s toeing off his boots, pulling off Magnus’s, too, for good measure, before crawling up the bed to lean down on his newly-healed arm and kiss him, their bellies just barely touching.

Magnus’s hand drags up Alec’s back to tangle in his hair. He shifts on the bed, burying himself deeper in the comforter. He looks so languid and beautiful, limbs limp with relaxation, he looks—

—really tired, actually.

For the first time Alec notices the lines around his eyes, the dark circles covered with concealer. How Magnus’s movements drag, slow and warm like honey, how there’s a delay in the way his eyes track Alec’s, like too fast a movement might cause him pain.

“Hey,” Alec says, “You okay?”

“Tired,” Magnus says, and the fact that he’s even admitting it says a lot. “Keep kissing me.”

Alec kisses him, his lips, his nose, his jaw. “You should take a nap.”

Magnus groans. “I want to spend time with my husband, it’s been weeks.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Magnus pulls Alec down so all his weight is plastered across his body. “Mmm. You are a good blanket.”

“I’m covered in blood.”

Magnus snaps his fingers and they’re both clad in clean pajamas.

“Thanks.”

Magnus tugs at his face, eyes slipping shut. “Come on, blanket, kiss me. Come on, come on—”

“I’m coming, by the Angel.” Alec kisses him, over and over and over.

“You still owe me for saving your arm,” Magnus murmurs.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the debt?”

“One quadrillion kisses.”

“Not sure I can ever pay that back,” Alec says, pressing the first of a quadrillion kisses to the corner of Magnus’s mouth, “but I’m happy to start by kissing you to sleep.”

Magnus smiles against his lips. “My greatest fantasy.”

Alec kisses Magnus again, long and deep, just tasting him. Magnus whimpers, shifting under him, twining a slow and uncoordinated hand in Alec’s hair to pull him in deeper, dragging his lips against Alec's, slipping his tongue into Alec’s mouth.

Magnus hums, loose and happy, on the verge of sleep, and Alec’s heart soars to see him so open and comfortable, unburdened and drowning in nothing but pleasure. Magnus deserves it. He deserves this always. If it wouldn’t be against Magnus’s nature, Alec would keep him in this moment forever.

But there are no real forevers, and he shouldn’t try to make there be.

Magnus reaches up for him, jerking him back out of his thoughts. “C’mere ‘n kiss me, ‘lexander. Kiss me…”

By the time Alec moves to do so, he’s already asleep.

Alec presses one final kiss to Magnus’s forehead, and then lies down beside him, dragging the blanket from the end of the bed over them, tucking his head in the crook of Magnus’s neck. Sleep is pulling at him, too, and he doesn’t mind, more than content to soak in Magnus’s warmth, the solidness of his body, especially when Magnus turns in his sleep to clutch at him, his tight grip a grounding force.

Alec looks at him and tries to capture this moment, to hold onto it permanently in his mind’s eye, knowing that if he ever starts despairing over the sheer expansiveness of his future, he’ll only have to look back on this to remember why he wanted it in the first place, to remember why it was worth it.

title from “Being Alive” from the musical Company

[bytheangell]

I Will Be Free

For this week’s @tarotfic​ card: The Moon With an added personal challenge of using the character on The Moonfrom this stunning set of SH Tarot cards: Jace Herondale Read on AO3 -------------

Jace knows how others look at him. Valentine’s son. An experiment with unnatural abilities. The foolish boy who activated the Soul Sword. The not-quite-a-Lightwood who will always remain an outlier in the family that took him in. The wasted wish of Raziel. A Herondale who took the life of the one remaining relative he had, no matter what influence he’d been under.

The Golden Boy who is anything but.

There isn’t a point in time Jace isn’t aware of the act he needs to put on around any given group of people. The perfect child, following every instruction to a T, never slipping up for even a second and hiding every flare of emotion he feels as a child growing up with Valentine. The perfect soldier at the Institute, a protective brother and parabatai around Isabelle and Alec, but just aloof enough that they don’t worry about him. A fun but noncommittal hookup for everyone he’s ever been interested in, not allowing himself to properly date dare he come too close to actual feelings for anyone he would only hurt in the end. A different mask for every moment of every day, until he’s alone at night and barely knows how to act around himself.

...until he meets Clary.

Clary, who is so unapologetically herself at every turn no matter what others think or say about her, whether behind her back or even brazenly to her face. He watches her stand up to people who could make her life a living hell and walk away with her head held high. He watches her laugh, cry, and criticize to her heart’s content in the moment of whatever she’s feeling.

He watches her care for him, fall for him, and hold on to that reaction just as stubbornly as all her others no matter how hard he tries to keep her at a distance the way he does everyone else who comes into his life.

And he watches himself, in turn, become more himself. At first he isn’t sure who that even is or what it entails, but the more time he spends with Clary the more he figures it out, one moment at a time, because every moment he’s with her he lowers the mask a little more. His walls begin to crumble, stone by carefully laid stone until he isn’t only willing to allow her in, but others around him as well. Alec, Isabelle… they can all sense in him the change he doesn’t realize is happening until it’s already underway.

He’s happier. He’s not putting on an act because he realizes Clary holds no expectations of him. All she knows is what he shows her, and though he has a bit of bravado at the beginning to correct most of it, he realizes with surprise, is just him. He doesn’t care what people think of him when he’s by her side, falling on his face on an ice skating rink or tinkering behind the piano on a melody that reminds him of her… of them.

He isn’t afraid of looking foolish because he knows that, to her at least, it doesn’t matter. He can embarrass himself time and time again and begins to realize without a single doubt that she’ll think no less of him.

It catches like wildfire. The more risks he takes around Clary, the more he’s willing to follow his heart and be true to himself instead of the voices that guided him all these years, the more he sees those around him follow suit. He’s always set a standard and that doesn’t change now - all that chances are the standards he sets. He works just as hard and is just as loyal, but this time it’s without pretense.

He’s never felt freer.

[brightasstars]

Tenerife Sea

Written for the Tarot Fic Challenge - Prompt Card "The Lovers"

Summary:

Alec and Magnus take a small vacation with their kids for their first anniversary

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058807

[visander]

I wrote something for @tarotfic‘s week four prompt: Wheel of Fortune. 

Lorenzo Rey and Magnus Bane hadn't stepped off on the right foot from the very beginning. They hadn't gotten along from the moment they met. Only, when they did finally meet again, Lorenzo seemed to be the only one that remembered they'd met before. He seemed to be the only one that remembered what Magnus had done to him.

Read on Archive.

Lorenzo Rey was not a man that came into change easily. Immortals often are, as is a trait of living through centuries, but change had just never come naturally to Lorenzo. He’d been born into nothing and when he finally dragged himself into a life that was somewhat content, he thought he’d like his life to stay like that forever. It was far better to never change than it was to lose everything you had.

However, that’s not the way the world works. Life doesn’t stop just because you’d like it to. Change doesn’t quiver in the face of fear. Lorenzo’s life did change, even if he dragged his feet through it all. He met other warlocks. He made a friend or two along the way. He lost a couple and was reminded why he’d wanted to make none in the first place.

He moved houses into something better, something that was certainly an upgrade and even there, he had to take a decade or two to adjudge to the new place and call it home. Home was scarier then simply a place he owned. Home meant something different, if it was taken from you.

He’d gotten better at magic along the way too, even though it didn’t seem to come to him as easily as it did for a lot of warlocks. Even his magic seemed hesitant to show itself, something that infuriated Lorenzo to no end. He was a warlock. If he was going to be good at anything, it had to be magic.

Except, he wasn’t that good at it. Even when he did get better, he wasn’t that good at all. He could conjure things. He could summon demons. He could do all the things a warlock was supposed to… in theory. He could do them alone in his house. He could do them when there was no one there to impress or to disappoint but the moment there was an audience, Lorenzo was reminded that he was not good at this at all.

Others seemed quick to remind him too. Warlocks, though accepting and defensive of their own, were cruel creatures behind closed doors, when there wasn’t a seraph blade flashing to remind them that they were all in this together.

Generally, warlocks who were young enough to have not stopped aging were given a break but once you were more than a couple decades old, once you reached a century and you still fumbled to do basic magic, everyone stopped being so kind.

Lorenzo wasn’t even sure if a lot of them realized it was something they did or if you had to be on the receiving end, like Lorenzo was, to notice it. It was glances most often. When you failed to do something you’d offered to do, they’d look at you with this look that made Lorenzo even more determined to offer to do it again, so he could show them he could.

Except, he couldn’t. So, it would just happen again and Lorenzo would grow even more bitter.

Then, there were comments. Warlocks were smug. Often it was enough for them to look at you, make it clear they could tell you couldn’t do it just to do it themselves and show off that they could but then, there were those that had to say something.

Sometimes, it was hidden under a veil of being encouraging. “You’ll do it someday.” They’d say. “At your own pace, nothing wrong with that.” Then, there were others that didn’t even bother to hide it under encouragement. “Don’t bother if you can’t do it.” Someone had snapped one evening. “Practice at home.” He’d heard more than once.

Lorenzo didn’t bother to make warlock friends much after that. He didn’t bother to make many friends in general but still, sometimes you couldn’t just sit at home and pretend your life was perfect. Sometimes you had to go out and sometimes, you had to meet people like Magnus Bane.

Lorenzo had heard of Magnus before he’d actually met him. Everyone had heard of Magnus. Magnus had just created the portal and it was all anyone wanted to talk about. It was groundbreaking. It was brilliant. Magnus was brilliant and suddenly, everyone wanted to share the time they’d met him. They wanted to talk about when they’d seen him once and what he’d said.

Lorenzo had never met Magnus before that day but he’d been excited to do so, if he ever got the chance. He shouldn’t have been. He really shouldn’t have been. Now, Lorenzo guessed that Magnus was just having a bad day. He’d lamented about life before Alec and how his heart had been closed off- Lorenzo liked to assume that’s why he’d been in a particularly bad mood that morning.

Though, he had never actually brought it up to Magnus to know. He didn’t think Magnus remembered it anymore and that was all as well. Lorenzo didn’t want Magnus to remember him as the weak warlock he’d been once nor did he want to remember Magnus as the cruel person he’d met him as.

It had happened though and Lorenzo even now couldn’t completely forget. It had been at one of the first more political downworlder events that Lorenzo had ever attended. It had been about positions and territories, something boring, something that didn’t really matter that much to Lorenzo at the time.

Apparently, Magnus had thought it was boring as well. He’d spent the majority of the actual meeting drowning himself in his glass, rolling his eyes and mocking anyone he could. Magnus’ presence was an annoyance to the warlocks who were actually trying to get something done but Lorenzo thought they were used to it. Still, someone had commented after, aside to Lorenzo, that Magnus had seemed to have an unusually large stick up his ass that day. I heard his girlfriend broke up with him, they’d whispered.

Perhaps, Lorenzo should have taken that to mean it wasn’t a very good day to try and make his acquaintance. He hadn’t. He’d tried anyway, after the meeting had officially been adjourned and they’d all retired to mulling around, some following Magnus’ suit and getting a drink, some leaving as quickly as they could.

Lorenzo did neither of those things. He’d gone right to Magnus. The moment Lorenzo introduced himself, it was another chance for him to realize that the cards were not in his favor that day but he hadn’t. He’d been so excited to meet him that he didn’t see anything else.

“I’m Lorenzo.” He’d announced to Magnus unprompted.

Magnus hadn’t responded right away and instead of reassessing, Lorenzo had kept speaking. “You’re Magnus.” He’d stated, like perhaps Magnus did not know. “You created the portal. Everyone is talking about you-” He’d continued, like Magnus really couldn’t have been aware of that.

Lorenzo was sure Magnus was well aware everyone was talking about him. To Magnus’ defense, he grit his teeth and bore Lorenzo’s rambling. “It’s a pleasure.” Magnus had said, sounding as if he hardly meant it. “Though unfortunately, my glass is empty and that bottle over there is calling my name.”

Magnus had spun on his heel to cross the room to the alcohol but Lorenzo hadn’t taken the hint. For some reason, he’d thought it would be a really good opportunity to impress Magnus, like he would have even if it would have gone well.

It hadn’t gone well.

“Oh, let me get it!” Lorenzo had insisted. Magnus had paused, though Lorenzo thought it was more out of surprise than interest in Lorenzo actually assisting him.

Now, Lorenzo wasn’t sure why he’d thought it would be a good idea to try and conjure the drink. It was something he could do fine at home but here, already nervous among these people he so desperately wanted to impress, among Magnus- It was a horrible idea to begin with. He’d known how unpredictable his magic could be and yet, he’d tried anyway.

Theoretically, he had done what he’d set out to do. He had conjured the drink. He just… hadn’t conjured it quite into the glass, like he’d wanted. He’d conjured it and the dark liquid had appeared all over Magnus’ pale gray shirt. Which… in Lorenzo’s defense, was rather close to the glass he’d been aiming for.

Instantly, a hush had fallen across the room. Anyone who’d been talking went dead silent and suddenly, Lorenzo found himself the center of the attention (something he’d wanted but not exactly like this).

For a moment, Magnus didn’t react. They just stared at each other and then, Magnus seemed to realize exactly what had happened and he looked enraged all at once. Lorenzo didn’t quite remember what happened after that but he remembered enough. He remembered Magnus’ expression. He remembered Magnus snapping at him. He remembered leaving and as much as he wouldn’t admit it to anyone now, he remembered leaving with tears in his eyes.

It infuriated him for years after. He was ashamed but with every encounter he had where someone lamented about Magnus Bane and how wonderful he was, Lorenzo’s shame grew into bitterness. With every single story Lorenzo heard about how selfless Magnus was, Lorenzo started to hate him more and more.

Magnus Bane was not selfless. He was not the savior the downworld thought him to be. Magnus Bane was cruel and he was harsh and Lorenzo was sure if everyone saw the way Magnus really acted, they would change their minds about him quick.

Magnus Bane created the portal. He stopped tragedies from happening and when everyone else fled, Magnus stood and defended the downworld but that didn’t mean that was all Magnus was. That didn’t mean Magnus Bane wasn’t the one who’d rushed into conflicts without thinking and pushed their world to the brink of tragedy. Just because he’d managed to fix it didn’t mean it wasn’t his fault to begin with.

Just because he had the power to stop it from happening, didn’t mean he wasn’t the careless reckless instigator of the conflict himself. Lorenzo had seen Magnus summon demons just to have them break free from his control and be hailed a savior when he managed to stop it. Lorenzo had seen Magnus arguing in meetings, fighting with the Clave when no one else seemed to want to and he’d also seen Magnus a breath later, murmuring with the shadowhunters he’d just declared to fight against.

There were two sides of every coin and for every time Magnus managed to save someone, there was someone else who’d been crushed when he wasn’t looking- or when he stopped caring.

No one seemed to pay close enough attention to notice but Lorenzo did. Lorenzo watched Magnus for years. He could have written a book on the man's accomplishments and the countless catastrophes that followed him but no one seemed to be willing to talk about the latter.

It was just chance he’d been in the area when New York had been looking for a new High Warlock. He’d have heard eventually. He probably would have inquired too but by that point, it might have been too late. It felt like fate he’d been there and he’d heard right when it happened. It felt like it was nothing more than a divine intervention.

Magnus did not know who he was. If he did, he only knew his name but Lorenzo was more than familiar with the man whose shoes he was stepping into. Part of Lorenzo had wondered if Magnus would recognize him when they saw each other face to face again. He wondered if it would suddenly hit him and he’d remember the first time they’d met.

Magnus did not remember him. That was fine. Lorenzo remembered enough for the both of them but things changed quickly after that. Every week, things were different. Every week, something was happening. The ley lines. Magnus and him fighting. Magnus losing his magic. Magnus asking him for help. Lorenzo being turned into a reptile and then Edom.

Edom was when things really changed. Lorenzo had a clear image of Magnus in his mind but Edom muddled things a bit. It was selfless to give yourself up thinking you’d never return just to save the world you were leaving. It was the kind of selfless Magnus’ recklessness had always made Lorenzo wish he was.

Then, Alec asked him for help. Alec asked him to go to Edom and help get Magnus back and Lorenzo had felt, even in that moment, that he was standing before a cross road in his life. It was a simple decision. He could help or he could not but it was more than that.

Magnus had consumed so much of his energy for so long. Magnus had become this horrible thing in his mind and to help would be admitting that perhaps, Magnus was not perfect but he was not evil either. To help would be admitting that he himself was not perfect. To help would be to put aside everything Magnus did not know angered him and it would be moving into a future that Lorenzo did not know.  

Lorenzo didn’t know what would happen if he helped but he knew what would happen if he did not. He knew that Alec Lightwood would get Magnus back. He knew that he wouldn’t stop until he did and he knew that when Magnus was back, nothing at all would have changed. There would just be another stake between him and Magnus. There would be another thing between them, one that would be harder to get over than the others.

Magnus had hurt him in both the far and recent past. Lorenzo would feel validated if he said no. Why should he help him? But the next time he and Magnus fought, and Lorenzo knew there would be a next time, what would happen? The stakes would be higher. The consequences more dire. Magnus was more powerful than him. Lorenzo knew he was.

Did he really want to keep this cycle going? Did he really want an enemy when a simple choice could grant him an ally instead? No, he didn’t. Lorenzo swallowed his pride. He reconciled the Magnus he’d first met and the one he knew now and he admitted to himself that neither of them were perfect.

He helped. He went to Magnus’ wedding after and he found himself surprised that one choice had given him not only an ally but a friend as well. Magnus was a good friend. Magnus came when he needed help. Magnus called when he was frustrated with a spell and wanted advice, though Lorenzo didn’t think he had much advice to offer.

Magnus even dragged him into the reckless behavior he’d scorned for so long. Lorenzo found himself centuries after they’d met portaling away from the Spiral Labyrinth with Magnus at his side, clutching whatever artifact it was Magnus had insisted they were misusing. Lorenzo found himself snapping at the diplomats from Faerie, earning himself enemies of a whole kingdom. Lorenzo found himself causing catastrophes that he could have avoided if not for his recklessness and he found himself stopping them at the last second.

Lorenzo found himself pondering that day that he helped Alec and even centuries later, he viewed that day as a turning point in his life. He’d had a choice that day and he’d chosen to let it go and see what the future brought him.

What was it Magnus liked to say? Fortune favors the bold. Lorenzo had made a bold choice and fortune had certainly favored him.

[cloudburst-ink]

No Speak/Hush this week, sorry guys! I have been feeling a bit under the weather and had some real life stuff get in the way.

However, I will be posting my prompt fill for the first Tarot Challenge this weekend, to help tide you over! I’m aiming for tomorrow, but it might be Sunday. In the meantime, here’s an excerpt!

“When do you leave?” Magnus asked softly. The first few words were drowned in the uproar of the ocean clutching desperately at the shoreline. It could not grasp it, as it never could, and plunged back into the darkness. The last word was left in silence, too loud and harsh against the listless, reticent night.

[imandras]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV), malec - Fandom

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Characters: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood, Tessa Gray, Raphael Santiago, Luke Garroway, Barnabas, Rafael Lightwood-Bane, Max Lightwood-Bane Additional Tags: Powerful Magnus Bane, Potions, Trials, Confident Magnus Bane, Caring Alec Lightwood, 

Shadowhunters Tarot Challenge - No. 1 - The Magician

Summary:

We accompany Magnus Bane to a trial where, in his capacity as presiding judge, he has to make a judgment about another Warlock. Furthermore we get an insight into his private life.

@tarotfic

[ao3feed-malec]

On the Topic of Fortune

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2UjCl0S

by NotEvenThat

Lorenzo Rey and Magnus Bane hadn't stepped off on the right foot from the very beginning. They hadn't gotten along from the moment they met. Only, when they did finally meet again, Lorenzo seemed to be the only one that remembered they'd met before. He seemed to be the only one that remembered what Magnus had done to him.

Words: 2605, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Shadowhunters (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Magnus Bane, Lorenzo Rey, Alec Lightwood

Relationships: Magnus Bane & Lorenzo Rey, background Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood - Relationship

Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Young Lorenzo Rey, First Meetings, Lorenzo's POV, SHtarot, Week Four: The Wheel of Fortune, Warlock Meetings, magical mishaps, Canon Compliant, Character Growth, Morally Ambiguous Magnus, Morally Ambiguous Lorenzo, Post-Canon

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2UjCl0S

[cuubism]

in the palm of your hand

Malec, Rated T, h/c, implied sexual content, canon-typical violence, TWI!Verse

SH Tarot Challenge Prompt 1: The Magician

(read on AO3)

“So do you do palm readings?”

Magnus blinked at the sudden question, looking up from his book to meet Alec’s gaze. His boyfriend—and it still felt strange to say that word after so long closing himself off to anyone who tried to get near—was watching him intently, something mischievous sparking in his gaze.

“It’s not my specialty,” Magnus said, closing his book, “but yes. Why?”

“Will you read mine?”

Magnus’s cheeks heated unexpectedly at the request, but he took Alec’s proffered hand, cradling it in his own. “This is—”

He could barely get out a word before Alec was twisting his hand to take hold of Magnus’s, a cheeky grin on his face.

Magnus narrowed his eyes. “Was that just an excuse to hold my hand?”

“Maybe.”

Alec looked so pleased with himself for the minor deception. Magnus couldn’t deny that the warmth of Alec’s palm against his own was quite pleasant, especially when Alec ran his thumb back and forth over his pulse point like that.

“Do you want me to read it or not?”

Alec flipped his hand back over to its original position. “Sorry, yes.”

Magnus hummed, looking down at his palm, deciding to skip right to the line he was most interested in.

“This is your heart line.” He traced it with a light touch, not missing the way it made Alec shiver. “See how strong the curve is? That means you’re straightforward with your emotions when you care about someone.”

“That’s true enough.”

“And see how it ends right below your middle finger?” Magnus’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “This indicates a pure and true love.”

Alec frowned at him, though his eyes were sparkling. “You’re not just messing with me, are you? Is this your version of flirting?”

“I promise I’m not.”

“Go on, then.”

Magnus ran a finger along the swooping line under Alec’s thumb. “This one is your life line. A strong, heavily-curved line such as this suggests energy and enthusiasm.” That certainly described Alec. Magnus leaned in to take a closer look at some of the details of the line.

“When it’s broken like this, that means—” He stopped suddenly.

It means injury. Injury or illness. Though Alec was young and fit, so illness was relatively unlikely. But a catastrophic injury? That could strike anyone at any time. Just as an accident—

“Magnus?” Alec was still watching as Magnus silently spiraled. “Everything okay?”

Magnus dropped Alec’s hand. “I shouldn’t waste your time with this parlor trick.”

Alec chuckled nervously. “I’m not gonna die or something, am I?”

“No, of course not, darling,” Magnus reassured him, patting him on the arm for good measure.

Alec still looked a little spooked. Magnus couldn’t really blame him, considering he could hardly get his own expression under control.

He’d meant it when he said palm reading was a parlor trick. Well… mostly.

But now that the thought was lodged in Magnus’s head, he couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved.

“Is this okay?”

Alec was so cautious in touching him. He always asked before so much as holding Magnus’s hand. As they walked back from dinner, he was hovering his hand over Magnus’s lower back, waiting to see if he’d be allowed to place it there.

“Yes, of course, darling.”

Sometimes, Magnus wished Alec would just take what he wanted. But he didn’t know how to say that while also expressing his appreciation for how adamant Alec was in respecting his boundaries.

Alec laid his hand on his back, and it was a comforting connection, the warmth of him bleeding through Magnus’s jacket.

He felt so warm when Alec touched him, not just at the point of contact but all over, like he was made stronger by the touch, the cracks in his heart filled in with gold pouring from Alec’s veins.

Magnus leaned against Alec, relishing in the flood of warmth all along his side. He was content to just walk in silence, listening to Alec breathe beside him, taking in the cool night air.

He had just let himself close his eyes, trusting his boyfriend to guide him, when Alec stiffened.

“Who’s there?” he called out.

Magnus opened his eyes and followed Alec’s gaze.

Twenty-or-so feet ahead, a large, humped shadow was rooting around in a trash can. It could’ve been a racoon. If it were five times smaller. A chill ran up Magnus’s spine.

Alec had probably assumed it was a mugger or some such person of ill-intent. Trust him to feel duty-bound to confront them instead of turning around like a reasonable person.

Alec’s stance relaxed as he, apparently, came to the conclusion that the ‘person’ was harmless. “If you need change to get something to eat, we can help out,” he called down the road, “you don’t need to dig through the trash.”

Oh, sweet innocent Mundane, Magnus thought, that’s no human you’re trying to help.

Magnus grabbed Alec’s arm and tugged. “Let’s go.”

Alec turned to Magnus with a frown. “Don’t you wanna—”

“Alec, now."

Alec must have picked up on the fear in Magnus’s expression, for his eyes widened. He let Magnus turn him—

It was too late.

The sound of trash crunching stopped abruptly. Two orange eyes blinked up at them, and there was a loud, wet huff.

They wouldn’t outrun it now.

“Magnus?”

“Get behind me.”

Alec just stared at him. The order must have sounded ridiculous to him. Not only was Magnus physically smaller, but he was also—to Alec’s mind, at least—essentially gentle and bookish, not the type of person who’d do battle in a dark alley. Meanwhile Alec was trained in several forms of martial arts and worked out daily. Why on earth would he let Magnus protect him?

Magnus rubbed sweating hands on his pant legs, hoping to god that he’d be able to summon his magic. Never mind that revealing it would likely blow up his relationship with Alec, he had bigger concerns.

Like the six-legged wolf demon currently crawling out of the shadows.

Magnus had suspected—had known, even—that it was a demon, but he hadn’t believed. Because that was—

“You’re impossible,” he whispered, staring at its glowing eyes, its two rows of teeth.

“Yeah, no shit!” Alec yelped, his voice shooting up an octave. “What the hell is that thing?!”

“Demon,” Magnus said softly. “Stay behind me.”

“A WHAT!?”

The demon crept closer, scenting out its prey.

“Is this one of those, like, prank shows? Because if so, consider me pranked! You can stop now!”

Alec should have known better than to think Magnus would ever do something so stupid and cruel.

“It’s not—” he started to say—

And the demon leapt right for him, dozens of teeth bared.

Magnus called all of his magic to his hands—it started to congeal in a swirling ball of red between his fingers—but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t fast enough—  

Alec grabbed his hand.

And suddenly magic was pouring through his veins, bursting out of his fingertips—

—and Alec was yanking him out of the way—

—which put him in the path of the teeth—

—which closed around his shoulder—and he screamed, and the sound would echo in Magnus’s nightmares—

—and then Magnus’s magic was slamming into the demon, shattering it into dust.

As soon as it started, it was over.

Magnus crumpled to the pavement beside Alec, who was curled up on the ground, shaking, clutching his shoulder. Blood poured out between his fingers, so much blood—

“Easy, darling,” Magnus tried to say, voice trembling, heart racing in his chest. “Easy, let me see—”

“What— what did you do?”  

“I banished it.”

“But how?”

Magnus placed a hand on his forehead. It was already clammy. “Shh. I’ll explain everything later. Right now, I just need you to lie still.”

“Is— is this a nightmare? Am I losing my mind?” Alec’s eyes were panicked, and it was startling to see his normally unshakeable boyfriend looking so terrified.

Magnus knew that he’d probably ruined them—surely no relationship could survive this?—but he banished the thought from his mind. Right then, he just needed to save Alec.

“This may feel a little strange,” he warned, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt, and then he was pressing any magic he could summon into the gashes in Alec’s shoulder.

Alec tried to jerk away from him. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you call an ambulance?” His voice sounded fainter already, he was fading fast.

“They can’t help with this.” And neither, it seemed, could Magnus—his magic didn’t seem to be having any effect on the wound. Each gash that he closed just reopened, seeping black sludge onto Alec’s skin. “Damnit!”

“...Magnus?”

“It’s alright, darling, it will be alright.”

Alec flailed for him with an uncoordinated hand. “Everything’s spinning. Why is it spinning?”

“Don’t think about it. Look at me.” Magnus turned Alec’s face towards him.

Alec squinted up at him. His eyes were glassy already. “Which one of you? There’s three."

Magnus swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Whichever you like.”

“I like…” Alec’s head lolled back against the ground. His eyes started to close. “...all of them. I like… you."

Magnus tried to open a portal. Nothing.

“Hey, hey. Hey,” Alec said, though Magnus hadn’t said anything. His hand found Magnus’s face. “Magnus. Listen.”

Magnus tried to open a portal again. “I’m listening.”

"Listen." His voice was slurred. “S’important."  

“You have my attention, dear.” You always have my attention. “What is it?”

Alec blinked, long and slow, like he’d lost his train of thought. Then he smiled up at Magnus. “I love you.”

Magnus ripped open the fabric of the air, crafting a portal out of sheer anger and grief. Of course Alec had to choose now to say that to him for the first time, just for the sheer drama of it all—to remind Magnus now, when he was on the verge of losing everything, that, new as they were, he hadn’t loved a partner like this in centuries.

He hauled Alec up in his arms, staggering a little under his weight. “I love you, too, Alexander. So much I don’t know what to do with it.”

Sometimes, Magnus felt like his body wasn’t made for the depth of emotion it experienced. It felt like it should break down or burst from the pressures of his heart. Like now, when Alec went limp in his arms, his head lolling back against Magnus’s shoulder.

Magnus wasn’t even sure he had heard him.

He stepped through the portal back into the loft, depositing Alec on the couch. Here, under better lights, he could really see the damage—the deep puncture wounds in his shoulder, the blood, so much blood—

Magnus had known that the Shadow World would eventually come for his relationship with Alec, but he hadn’t expected it to be like this.

“Stay still, love. Don’t move!” he called over his shoulder as he ran to his apothecary. Alec didn’t respond.

Magnus dove into the room, rummaging around, throwing ingredients haphazardly into a cauldron. Fortunately, healing potions were hardy and didn’t require precise measurement. Soon enough, he had it ready, and was sprinting back out into the living room to skid to a stop by Alec’s head.

His love was still and pale, sweat beading on his brow. Magnus cut open the sleeve of his polo shirt to expose the wounds, slathering on copious amounts of the potion.

“There you are, that’s it. You’ll feel better soon.” He had to.

Magnus watched anxiously as the potion dried, sucking the poison out of the wounds. But when it was done, the wounds remained gaping open, weeping now-clean blood. Magnus pressed more magic into them with trembling hands. No dice.

He tried again, murmuring, “Come on, love. You can do it. Come on, Alexander.”

Alec’s breathing slowed further. He was incredibly pale. Bleeding out.

“No,” Magnus whispered. Then, louder: “No. No! Alexander, don’t do this to me. We were supposed to—” all Magnus’s energy left him in an instant. He slumped to the floor. “We were supposed to have more time,” he breathed.

Alec’s hand twitched and touched Magnus’s. Magnus jolted at the spark of energy that arced between them.

Wait. Was it possible…?

He thought back to the demon attack, how Alec had grabbed his hand. How Magnus’s magic had surged at the contact.

In the next second he was hurtling to his bedroom, coming to a violent stop against his nightstand, rummaging through the upper drawer. It had been years, but he must still have it, mustn’t he?

He plucked the stele gingerly from the drawer, still unused, even after all this time, to the idea that it wouldn’t burn his fingers. He carried it back to Alec’s side, and then, with the glowing red tip poised above Alec’s skin, hesitated.

By all odds, it made sense that it should work. The way Magnus’s magic had reacted to Alec’s touch, like Alec carried his own magic inside him—the fact that, when Clary from the alternate universe had visited, she’d said that the whole group were Shadowhunters there.

But if Magnus were wrong, he wouldn’t just kill Alec. No, it would be far worse than that.

Alec stirred again beneath him, breath hitching painfully. And Magnus made his decision. He would rather try to save Alec and fail than not try at all. He had spent a long time letting the currents push him where they would. No longer.

He pressed the tip of the stele to the inside of Alec’s wrist and drew an iratze.

The stele resisted Magnus’s touch, but eventually took to Alec’s skin, the thick black lines of the rune standing out starkly against his pale complexion. Magnus held his breath while the mark flared.

The magic sank into Alec’s body, and Magnus almost collapsed in relief when the gashes in Alec’s shoulder slowly knit together and he began to breathe easier.

Hands shaking, Magnus drew a blanket over Alec’s now-peacefully sleeping form.

He’d have a lot of explaining to do in the morning.

“Magnus, what the fuck.”

Magnus jerked awake in the armchair he’d collapsed into, disturbing Church from where he’d curled up in his lap. His presence, in itself, was disturbing. Church never tried to comfort anyone.

As the cat jumped to the floor, Magnus turned to his boyfriend, who was now sitting up, looking much better, but tense, looking—

—at the black mark inscribed on his skin.

Alec looked up at him, eyes wide in alarm, but still trusting. Magnus hated that he’d have to shatter that trust.

“How are you feeling?”

Alec’s nose scrunched up. “Fine, I guess? Why, what happened? Did I get super drunk and get a tattoo?”

He didn’t sound like he would be terribly surprised if that were the case. For an instant, Magnus toyed with letting him believe that version of events. But he pushed the thought aside almost as soon as it had arisen. Alec deserved better than that.

“What do you last remember?”

“Coming home from dinner, we ran into a—” Alec jerked as it came back to him, turning a shaken gaze on Magnus. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, drawing his legs up to his chest. “That thing— with the teeth— and you did something with your hands—”

He was spiraling quickly. Magnus reached out a hand to steady him, wrapping it around his ankle. “Easy, breathe, it’s okay now—”

“How are you doing that?”

Magnus blinked, following Alec’s gaze down to where his palm was pressed to his skin. Without Magnus’s conscious consent, calming blue magic was seeping out of his hand.

Magnus jerked his hand away, heart racing. How was he doing that? He hadn’t had such easy access to his magic in decades.

He remembered the night before, when Alec had grabbed his hand and sparks had, literally, flown.

Oh.

Instead of following that thought down its deep rabbit hole, Magnus took a shaky breath and refocused on the man sitting before him. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“You’re part of a cult,” Alec guessed.

Magnus blinked. “What—”

“That’s what this is, isn’t it?” Alec pointed to the rune. “Like a cult initiation symbol? Am I a part of—”

“Oh, my god, no,” Magnus said. “I’m not part of a cult.” Although, he thought, that might actually be easier to explain. He showed Alec his hand, willing small flames to flicker to life in his palm. “I’m a Warlock.”

Alec’s eyes widened, though he didn’t look afraid per say. More cautious and curious. “As in—”

“As in, a being who can use magic.” Magnus left out the part about immortality, for now. One relationship hurdle at a time.

“Magic, huh?” Alec was fixated on the flames dancing in Magnus’s palm. He reached out to touch them. “Can I—?”

“It won’t hurt you,” Magnus assured him, hardly daring to breathe as Alec dipped his fingers into the fire. He couldn’t believe Alec actually wanted to touch his magic, couldn’t believe he hadn’t immediately leapt over the back of the couch and fled the apartment.

“Huh,” Alec mused, “tickles.” He wrapped his hand around Magnus’s, extinguishing the flames.

“It tickles? That’s all you have to say?”

Alec shrugged. “I don’t know, what did you want me to say? I could ask a gazillion questions but I kind of figured you didn’t want to talk about it if you waited so long to bring it up.”

“Ask them.”

“Okay,” Alec frowned in thought. “Is that what you did last night? Magic?”

“To banish the demon? Yes.”

Demon, Alec mouthed, rolling the word over his tongue. “There’s such thing as demons?”

“Not anymore,” Magnus said. “Well, not usually,” he corrected himself. “I will have to look into it. They’re supposed to be extinct in this realm.”

Alec was silent for a moment as he processed this. “You seem to know a lot about this.” For the first time, Magnus heard a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Heart inching up his throat, Magnus didn’t know what else to say other than, “Yes. I suppose I do.”

“So there’s just this— what, this whole other world out there?”

“You could say that.”

Alec looked down at his hands, one of which was still wrapped around Magnus’s. “A world you’re a part of and I’m not.”

“No.” Magnus tugged on his hand until Alec looked back up at him. “No, darling, that’s just it. You’re part of it, too.”

He pointed to the rune slowly fading on Alec’s arm. “You see this? This is a healing rune. Not just any human could bear this mark. You have magic in you as well.”

Alec frowned, ghosting his fingers over the rune. “So does that mean I’m a War—”

“Not a Warlock,” Magnus corrected, “a Shadowhunter. Angelic demon hunters from the distant past. They faded away after the last of the demons were destroyed.” He paused, thinking. “Although, if demons are afoot, there may come a time soon when we need Shadowhunters again.”

Alec just stared at him, looking totally lost. Magnus cupped his cheek. “Why don’t we talk about it more later? This is a lot, and you’ve just had a scare.”

“Yeah, did you— did you save my life?”

Magnus blinked. “I suppose I did. Only after you saved mine, though.”

“You saved my life.”

“Yes, dear, that’s what I said.”

Alec was looking at Magnus like he was standing on the ceiling.

“Is there a problem?” Magnus asked.

“No, it’s just—” Alec shrugged helplessly. “You, you’re so— gentle, and you— you murdered a demon for me.”

A small smile tugged at Magnus’s lips. “Oh? And how do you feel about that?”

Alec grinned at him crookedly. “Kinda like it.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Alec leaned in to kiss him, and this time he didn’t need to ask before he touched Magnus—Magnus was already leaning in to meet him, chasing the comfort of Alec’s lips, the gentle touch of Alec’s fingertips as they cupped the back of his head.

Alec pulled back after a moment to rest his forehead against Magnus’s. “Are you okay?”

“I was scared,” Magnus admitted. “I almost lost you.”

Alec ran a hand through Magnus’s hair. “It’s all okay now.”

And really, Magnus should be the one telling that to him. “I didn’t know if I’d get to keep you.”

“You mean when that fucked-up dog thing almost ripped off my arm?”

“No,” Magnus said, “when you found out what I was.”

Alec pulled back so he could look Magnus in the eye, concerned. “You really thought I would just leave?”

“It’s not exactly a normal thing to ask someone to deal with in a relationship, Alexander. I thought you’d be scared, or overwhelmed.”

“Scared of you? Never. You’re like the kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever met.”

“A kind, gentle person who just disintegrated a demon with one blow,” Magnus pointed out.

“So a soft-hearted badass, then. What’s not to love?” As soon as he said it, he stilled, then closed his eyes and said, softly, “fuck.”

Magnus swallowed hard. He’d known, he must have known that Alec hadn’t meant it last night, but he’d allowed himself to hope—

“I didn’t mean to say that this early,” Alec said.

Magnus looked up at him, hope fluttering anew in his chest. “You said it last night,” he said quietly, “though you were quite delirious at the time. It’s alright, you can take it back—”

“No! Magnus—” Alec reached out to cup his face. “I don’t wanna take it back. I just didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Didn’t Alec understand that he did overwhelm Magnus, but in the best way? When Alec touched him he felt like he was burning from the inside out, like he was aglow, like his soul had finally found the place where it was meant to curl up and be protected.

“I love you,” Alec said again, “so much.”

“I love you, too,” Magnus said, the truth of it settling warmly in his chest like a missing piece.

Alec looked hesitant. “You don’t have to say it just because—”

Magnus couldn’t have this. “Please look,” he interrupted, opening a palm between them and letting blue flames dance there again. “My magic has been quiet for a very long time. But when you grabbed my hand in that alley, well. It came back to life.”

“You mean—”

“It responds to you. I respond to you. This,” he let the flames flare brighter, “is because of you.” Magnus sighed, watching Alec become enraptured by the glow of the magic. “I feel that… I am these flames, and you are my hand. You hold me, and I come alive again.”

Alec’s head jerked back up to look at him. “Magnus.”

Magnus closed his fingers over the flames. Maybe, this time, he would ask for touch. “Will you hold me?”

Alec folded him in his arms, pulling Magnus’s head to his shoulder. Magnus breathed him in, the last vestiges of fear in his system finally fading away.

“Always,” Alec was saying into his hair, “always.”

Magnus just stayed still, relishing in the warmth, in how their relationship had fundamentally changed, but also, hadn’t at all.

“You know,” Alec said after a while. “This is kind of weird. Not in a bad way! I just mean… we haven’t even had sex yet.”

Magnus’s laugh was startled out of him. “Well,” he said, leaning back from Alec, “you haven’t asked.”

Alec stared at him. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

Magnus just winked.

Alec collapsed dramatically back onto the couch. “Magnus, come on.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself, darling.”

“I was trying to go slow, for you! I assumed—”

“Never assume. It makes an—”

“Please, for the love of god, don’t say it.”

Magnus grinned at him, thoroughly enjoying watching his normally put-together boyfriend unravel like this.

“You know, you could have said something,” Alec said.

Magnus shrugged. “I was rather enjoying all the longing glances, the lingering touches, who was I to—”

He was cut off as Alec lunged forward to kiss him, a messy kiss, all tongue and heat that curled down into Magnus’s belly.

“What do you say,” Alec murmured into his mouth, the rumble of his voice sending a spark down Magnus’s spine, “we go remedy this situation immediately.”

Magnus couldn’t deny that, as much as he’d enjoyed letting the tension build between them, he’d also been craving this release. He buried a hand in Alec’s hair and pulled, feeling Alec jolt against him at the touch.

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, my love.”

Alec stood, tugging Magnus to his feet and backing him towards the bedroom. “So does this, uh…” he waved a hand in an approximation of Magnus’s magic, “have any, uh… benefits?”

Magnus feigned ignorance, frowning. “Benefits?”

“You know what I mean.”

Magnus trailed a finger down Alec’s chest and zapped him with a little burst of magic. Alec jumped.

Magnus grinned up at him, stomach fluttering at how Alec’s eyes darkened. “Guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?”

And then Alec was kissing him again, and Magnus’s eyes were closing as he let Alec’s hands, gentle and reverent and blisteringly hot, guide him into the bedroom and down onto the bed, and it was terrifying, how his whole being rose and caved to one person’s touch, but after so long holding back, it also felt like the most beautiful relief.

[bytheangell]

Strength

For this week’s @tarotfic​ card: Strength With an added personal challenge of using the character on Strength from this stunning set of SH Tarot cards: Alec Lightwood. Read on AO3 --------------

Alexander Lightwood was never the strongest person by any normal association of the word.

He isn’t the strongest fighter in a battle - that’s reserved for Jace.

He isn’t the strongest at chasing his own happiness in spite of what people might think of him - that’s reserved for Isabelle.

He isn’t the strongest presence in a room, commanding attention simply by existing - that’s reserved for Magnus.

But Alexander Lightwood always had one undeniable skill: he knows how to surround himself with the things he may be lacking, to pull from them and lean on them as needed, to create an advantage that leaves him victorious despite not being the strongest factor in play.

He keeps his distance in a battle, covering with his bow and arrow from afar where he’s the most useful, taking out more demons than those up close could ever hope to match, able to see everything at once and strategize accordingly rather than being caught up in the one thing right in front of him. Trusting him for cover, Alec allows Jace to be even more effective, perfect complements of each other’s strengths in battle.

He knows how to lean on Isabelle’s fondness of Downwolrders and constant challenging of what’s expected of her versus what she wants to do for herself, using it as not only a source of information when needed but also as an inspiration for the steps he starts to take in that direction himself. Trusting him to defend her and stand by her every step of the way, Alec’s support encourages her to grow and flourish into the person she’s meant to be.

He learns how to let Magnus reel people in with the flash and glamour and then seamlessly slide himself into the spotlight beside him, sometimes to share, sometimes just to support, other times to take it over himself to promote and advocate for things he might not have an audience for on his own. And if it’s too much he knows that Magnus is always there to take it back and let him slip away to recharge or recover.

Alexander Lightwood may not be the strongest at any singular thing at any given time but that’s always been just fine by him. He knows that his strength comes from patience and understanding, from being able to take a step back and boost others to a mutual victory rather than rushing in on his own.

So when he moves to Idris and hears the whispers, the worries that he isn’t going to last, that he’s too young, too inexperienced… that he isn’t strong enough for this level of politics and responsibility. He heard it all before when he became Head of the Institute and he’s sure he’ll hear it again, and again, and again.

Alec knows they’re waiting for him to snap, to say or do something rash to ‘prove himself’, but they aren’t going to get that from him.

What the Shadow World needs now isn’t the same antiquated, misguided brute strength they’re used to exerting… they just don’t realize it yet, but they will. It’s all coming together with each small choice he makes and all he can do is smile that confident, knowing smile of his as he watches it all finally start to fall into place.

[brightasstars]

SUMMARY:

They are married and immortal but they still have to face unknown enemies.

Which kind of strenght will you need when you're about to lose what you treasure the most?

NOTES:

Written for the Tarot Fic Challenge - Prompt Card Strenght - "Strenght is not necessarly always about a show of force...

"If you like to get into the mood with the song I've referred to, listen to "City of Stars" - La La Land Movie Official Soundtrack

Rating: Teen & Up audience

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23818570

[visander]

I wrote something for @tarotfic‘s week five prompt: The Tower.

Clary’s life had always been the same. It was normal and not much ever really happened to her. Except, one day Clary started to realize that might not be true.

Read on Archive.

Clary’s life had always been the same. It was normal and not much ever really happened to her. She’d had a fairly normal childhood. She’d grown up with her mother and Luke. She had never really known her real father or much about him but a lot of kids didn’t know their fathers and besides, Luke had been the greatest father figure she could ask for.

When she was eighteen, her mother and Luke died in a car accident. It was horribly sad and it was also the most notable thing that had ever happened in Clary’s life but a car accident wasn’t exactly outside of the norm either. Thousands of car accidents happened every year. A drunk driver, she’d tell people and they’d nod sympathetically. Sometimes, they’d share whatever unfortunate story they had about a drunk driver and she’d nod sympathetically in return.

Everything after the accident was a little hazy but that wasn’t exactly surprising either. It had been a really hard time for her, like Clary imagined it would be for any teenager who’d lost their entire family all at once. She didn’t have any close friends as a kid, so her parents had been all she’d had until then.

She finished high school. She threw herself into her art and applied to every single art school she possibly could. She was accepted by most and she’d been able to pick her favorite one. She’d even gotten a full scholarship. That had been a little extraordinary but in a mundane kind of way. It was spectacular but it also happened to countless people every year. She’d just been one of the lucky ones.

She excelled in art school, like her parents would have expected she would. She fit in easily enough. She made friends. She even went to a party or two and made a few bad decisions, though nothing worth mentioning. She always found her way home tucked safely into her bed in the morning, even when she couldn’t quite remember how she’d gotten there.

She got along well with her roommate and eventually, they even moved into an apartment together when they'd both gotten bored of life on campus. Her roommate was a theater major, Clary a painter. Their apartment was well decorated but quickly, it was also a mess. Clary had splattered paint across almost every surface in the apartment and they’d lamented about how they weren’t going to get their security deposit back. Clary had felt bad but then her roommate had banged a hole in the wall with a prop she’d been dragging in to work on and Clary had felt less bad.

They drank on the balcony late at night, surrounded by the lights they’d hung up. They had friends over and played games in the living room. It was nice. It was the ideal college experience, according to her friends who were only a little jealous. Even her art thrived, like every artist dreamed of. She was offered more and more showings at better places every time. Her art sold quickly and the demand was almost always there.

That was the only extraordinary thing about Clary’s life. Her friends were struggling to make it, like most artists in New York were but Clary became known for her art quickly and she’d hardly had to struggle for it to get there.

Her life was perfect, like a dream board you’d make before moving. Even after she graduated, she was making enough money to work on her art and do nothing more. It was everything she’d always wanted and never thought could be a reality. Everything just fell into place in Clary’s life and everything fit together so well.

Except, Clary started to have these weird dreams. It started slow at first. It was just a weird dream she had one night, one could brush off, one she could hardly even remember when she woke up in the morning. It was a dream about a sword or wedding or… She’d brushed it off. She’d woken up late that day anyway and she hadn’t had much time to dwell on it.

Except, she started to have more dreams like that one and as they grew more and more frequent, she couldn’t just brush them off anymore. It wasn’t a stray weird dream. It was a series of dreams that she was having over and over again. It was a series of dreams that she started having every once in a while and then, she started having them every week. Every week, turned into every couple of days until she was having these dreams every single night without fail.

She had dreams of a boy with blond hair, one she knew she’d seen before, not in her dreams but in real life. He’d come to one of her art shows. She knew he did. She remembered him practically running away the moment she said something to him.

She had no clue who he was. She didn’t know his name. She didn’t know why he’d been there. She didn’t know why she had dreams about him, dreams where he was fighting these horrible creatures, dreams where Clary was helping him.

She had dreams about a dark haired boy with wavy hair and mouth full of sharp teeth when he smiled. She had a dream about a man with cat eyes and light that came from his hands like magic. She had a dream about a dark haired man with a scowl, kissing him and melting like butter. She had a dream about a girl with a whip, smiling at her and dragging her down a hallway while they both laughed.

She had a dream about a building exploding. She had a dream about a ship. She had a dream about drawing tattoos on her body. She had a dream about a boy in a tower, crying and then, they weren’t just dreams anymore. Clary started to see things when she was completely awake.

She would turn a corner somewhere and for a moment, she’d see one of them just standing there. Sometimes, she thought it might be a memory. Sometimes, she thought they were really there but every time when she moved forward to say something, they’d disappear.

Clary didn’t tell anyone in her life about these dreams or these things she was seeing. How could she? They’d think she was crazy and maybe, she was because Clary stopped thinking about them as weird dreams. She stopped thinking that maybe, something was wrong with her.

Clary knew that what she was experiencing were memories. She didn’t know how. She didn’t understand how these things could have happened. Some of them were completely impossible but Clary knew that she was not making them up. She couldn’t be. She’d seen that man that night at her show. He was real and eventually, Clary even remembered his name. She’d had enough dreams about him where she’d said it for her to pick up on it. It was Jace.

Clary didn’t understand what was happening to her. She didn’t understand how she was remembering all of this or why she was remembering it now but she knew one thing. Jace was real and he was out there in her city, waiting for her to come find him and she was going to find him.

She didn’t know how. She didn’t even know where to start but she had a sketch book with all their faces in it and she had a sketch of a building, one she’d dreamed about more than once. It was big grand building that almost looked like a church.

That was a start. Clary didn’t know where the building was but she’d recognize it when she saw it and that meant that all she had to do was start looking. They were out there somewhere, all of them. Clary was going to find them and when she did, they had better have a very good explanation prepared for her because she was not leaving without answers.

Jace specifically better have something very good to say about why he'd run away from her because Clary was coming to find him and this time, she wasn't going to let him disappear on her.

[bytheangell]

We Find Ourselves, Together

For this week’s @tarotfic​ card: The Lovers With an added personal challenge of using the character on The Lovers from this stunning set of SH Tarot cards: Alec Lightwood & Magnus Bane. Read on AO3 -------------

Magnus and Alec do a careful dance around one another. When it first starts, this thing between them is more than just new in relation to them together - it’s new to them individually.

Alec isn’t used to so much as hinting at his affections, at what he wants romantically, but he starts to now. He allows his gaze to linger on Magnus, allows himself to say yes to drinks sometime in future, allows himself to trust, and to give over parts of himself he would normally guard with his life. Magnus, the way he doesn’t push, the way he waits for Alec to say what he wants and give what he’s willing all in his own time, is the sort of balance he needs to take those first steps.

Magnus isn’t used to giving his heart so easily, to a mortal no less, and to a Shadowhunter on top of it all. He’s done all three in the past but that was very long ago, and he swore he never would again. But this thing with Alexander… there’s a weight to it. Anything Alexander chooses to do, to show, is a risk to him and the careful life he crafted for himself, and that isn’t lost on Magnus. It’s how he knows this means something. It’s how he knows it’s worth opening his heart back up for, that it’s worth the risk.

It’s a dance they stumble through, with careful easy steps and somehow manage to falter even in their simplicity and obviousness, because as much as they can tell they fit there are parts of them that still fight those instincts.

They can be so much stronger together, but as Magnus inches forward Alec steps back too fast, and all at once there’s a distance there, and beside Alec a new partner waiting in the wings - not with exciting, breathtaking movements that draw Alec to her but the familiarity and safety of what’s already known.

Magnus takes one last look at the growing space between them, closes his eyes, and leaps.

It’s a more daring move than Magnus ever made before, and if it fails, if Alexander doesn’t catch him as he falls…

But he does. Alexander steps out from the comfort of what he’s known, of what’s expected, of the steps he practiced time and time again his entire life and the finale he’s expected to perform - he steps out of that spotlight and into Magnus’ - into theirs - to catch him and move with him again.

Alec knows it’s the right decision the moment he makes it. This is new and it’s passionate and it’s exciting. It’s worth fighting for and protecting. It’s worth the stumbles along the way for the payoff of following his heart and being with Magnus, and though they make mistakes, they step on each other’s toes, move left instead of right, the other is always there to right them, to catch and steady and continue on.

Every second they choose one another that choice becomes so natural that soon enough it isn’t even a choice at all. Their lives together come as naturally as breathing, the steps of their dance together as instinctive as walking. Give and take in perfect balance, and finally:

A union in total harmony.

Alexander and Magnus know that they’re not the same as they were at the start, but they also know it’s been a change for the best - that they’re more themselves together than they ever were alone.

[bytheangell]

Come Together

For this week’s @tarotfic​ card: The World  With an added personal challenge of using the character on The World from this stunning set of SH Tarot cards: Maia Roberts Read on AO3 ------------- Opening Day. Maia puts the finishing touches on a few things - straightening the menus already sat out around the booths, making sure the freezer isn’t missing anything in the back - until she feels a hand reach out to rest gently on her shoulder with a comforting weight.

“Everything’s perfect,” Bat tells her, his voice kind. “You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

Maia huffs out a laugh, but she doesn’t dispute the claim.

“Maybe,” she admits. He doesn't pry, only waits for her to sift through her thoughts until she can vocalize them. “It’s just… after everything…” Maia starts, hesitates again, then sighs. “This feels almost like… I don’t know, like crossing the finish line, you know? At least to me. We’ve been through so much, and not just you and me, but all of us, the entire Shadow World. I’m not saying my silly little diner is going to be the salve that heals all our war wounds, but-”

“-but it is, in a way. It’s bringing everyone together who’s still here, and-” he adds, glancing pointedly down at the menu in front of Maia that she’d opened without even realizing, their eyes resting on the Fairchild Burrata Salad “-honoring those who aren’t.” He brings her hands into his own then, turning her to face him properly and meeting her gaze. Maia loves that he’s always there to ground her like this and meets it willingly. “Don’t sell yourself short. This isn’t just some ‘silly little diner’, Maia; this is a great thing you’ve created.”

The smile on Maia’s face starts off small, momentarily embarrassed by the praise, before growing to something properly excited. Bat’s right, of course. This is pretty big, if not for their community as a whole then at least for her, and her little corner of it. She worked hard to get to where she is today and she should be proud of it. She lost so much from the moment she was turned, but she’s gained so much, too. The journey hasn’t been easy and she almost walked away more times than she can count, which isn’t something she’s embarrassed of either. Because she didn’t, and that’s the important part. She fought through it all, against the prejudice and hate and seemingly impossible odds, and now…

Now Maia drops Bat’s hands from her own with a determined nod and turns to unlock the front doors, listening to the little bell above them ring as she swings them open to a crowd of friends and strangers alike waiting on the other side. She spots Simon and Isabelle at the front of them, like they haven’t already tried everything on the menu twice for her to test out her recipes, and laughs at the way they cheer the moment the doors open while Simon sets off a mini hand-held confetti popper.

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, shaking her head.

“Come on in,” she continues, turning from them to the unexpectedly large crowd behind them, pleasantly surprised. “There’s plenty of room for everyone. Welcome to Taki’s!”

Maia allows herself to take a step back then and properly take in the scene that unfolds: the diner fills with her pack, some friends she considers family, and even members of the Shadow World she doesn’t think she’s ever seen before, and there isn’t an ounce of tension between the vampires, werewolves, Seelies, warlocks, and Nephilim within. There’s only food and drinks and music and laughter. It’s another small victory to add to the tally, seeing everyone come together here, but one that means the world to her just then.

“Sit down and relax,” Bat says, coming up behind her with a gentle hand on her elbow to guide her to an open seat where Simon and Isabelle are. “You deserve the rest.”

They all do, Maia thinks, and realizes that they’re getting it here, now. The reprieve they all so desperately deserve, if only for the half-hour of a meal with friends, with their community.

She isn’t foolish enough to think this is permanent but she’s going to enjoy it while she can, so Maia sits down, smiles, and for the first time in what feels like ages: relaxes.

[bytheangell]

The Hope of New Beginnings

For this week’s @tarotfic​ card: The Fool With an added personal challenge of using the character on The Fool from this stunning set of SH Tarot cards: Simon Lewis Read on AO3 ------------- At this point in his life, Simon is wary of new beginnings. He does his best to be optimistic - Isabelle is Head of the Institute and they’re together; he can’t help but be excited for this particular journey by her side. It’s full of so much life and possibility and hope… which is something he needs just then, as terrible as his track record for it is.

After all, he hasn’t had the best of luck with starting over. First, there was turning into a vampire, something which, while terrifying, was also a change that could allow him to do a lot of good. He didn’t have to hurt people for blood, he had some pretty cool powers, and it made him a part of the world Clary was a part of, too. Simon always wanted to be part of the same things Clary was. They were two peas in a pod, where she went, he went… which was how he got into this vampire mess in the first place, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that turning into a vampire was a mess because he couldn’t even do that right, getting himself and his new friends into plenty of trouble for his impulsive actions.

He became a Daylighter, entirely on accident, which was another new start of sorts. He could live a more normal life, blending in, going to school, visiting home… or so he thought. All it did was make his loved ones a target and outcast him from the very clan he should’ve been trying to become closer with and learn more from. All it did was draw more trouble. He was new to vampire life to begin with, but everyone was new to the idea of a vampire living in the daylight, and with no experience in the matter he made the rash decision to seek answers wherever he could find them.

Which lead him to yet another new endeavor he was punished for, as his risky decision to go see the Seelie Queen earned him no real answers, but instead got him the Mark of Cain. The Mark was meant to be a ‘gift’, to ‘protect’ him, but it was just another thing to set him apart and make him a target, to ostracize himself from those around him when he only ever wanted to belong. It wasn’t his fault, he told himself time and time again. If Raphael and the others would’ve listened, would’ve helped him… instead, Raphael turned him away every time Simon couldn’t tell them how he became a Daylighter.

Every time Simon tries to start again and get his footing, to take a chance on something new - while trying to remain positive that this time it’s going to turn into something good, this time he’s got it figured out - he’s proven wrong again as every action seems to be punished rather than rewarded. One would think he’d stop trying, stop taking chances, and stop looking at new possibilities with anything other than dread.

One would be wrong.

Maybe Simon Lewis is the fool so many take him to be, to find himself thinking that now when he’s lost almost everyone he cared for - Clary, Raphael, his mother... not to death, but from his life just the same - he can still look out at the future with eagerness at the possibilities to come.

But he’s okay with that, Simon realizes, because he’d rather be a fool than the alternative of being hardened against the prospect of hope.

[bytheangell]

Take Yourself Home

For this week’s @tarotfic​ card: The Devil With an added personal challenge of using the character on The Devil from this stunning set of SH Tarot cards: Asmodeus Read on AO3 -------------

There’s no denying him now. The Shadowhunter played directly into his hand, giving him everything he ever wanted: his son, crawling back into his protection, into his arms for the sort of unerring support a father represents. The comfort of something familiar, of family, a bond of blood that cannot be broken as easily as lost loves and temperamental friendships.

Asmodeus waits until the deed is done, and even so bides his time. He doesn’t arrive immediately at his son’s side… no, he waits, allows him to process and mourn and reach a low even farther than when his lover leaves him standing there broken and alone.

Then, when his son is at his weakest, he steps back into his life. A savior, offering that which he lost, that which he never dared to dream he’d have again. And on top of that the love and support he so desperately craves and currently lacks.

Honestly, Asmodeus couldn’t have planned this any better if it were his idea from the start and not merely something he took advantage of when it was presented to him on a silver platter.

After all, Magnus spent the formidable years of his childhood with him, being raised and trained and bred in Asmodeus’ image. No matter how long he runs, no matter how far he falls away, he’s never too far to come crawling back.

Magnus is never fully out of his reach.

The last time Asmodeus saw his son it was willingly on Magnus’ end, a trip to Edom to make a trade to save the life of a Nephilim, and not even the one he’s in love with. Asmodeus knew in that moment it wouldn’t be the last time he saw him, and so much sooner than the centuries it’d taken before that day.

And this time it’s Asmodeus returning to be the savior, welcoming a scorned son with open arms, with the love and acceptance he so sorely craves. The return of Magnus’ magic, his very soul, his power and warmth and reason for being - Asmodeus gives him that.

To Magnus it looks like an act of kindness. A gift, to comfort a son in pain, freely given out of the kindness of his own heart. And after that another offer - to return home, to take the place that was always meant to be his, by Asmodeus’ side.

Asmodeus knows that this time Magnus will take the offer. It’ll be easier than staying here with his memories and pain and regret, easier to lose himself in power and control and all the pleasures Magnus could imagine, his for the taking.

It’s too enticing for Magnus to leave behind, especially now that there’s nothing here for him but the pain of a broken heart and memories he wants to leave behind forever.

The groundwork Asmodeus set, the foundations he built so many years ago… it’s finally time for them to come to fruition. His victory is so close Asmodeus can practically taste it.

Magnus is coming home. 

Father and son, ruling together as the unstoppable force they were always meant to be.

[bytheangell]

Alone in the World (But Not for Long)

For this week’s @tarotfic​ card: The Hermit With an added personal challenge of using the character on The Hermit from this stunning set of SH Tarot cards: Sebastian Verlac (though I went with Jonathan!Seb for this)  Read on AO3 -------------

All Jonathan ever craved was human contact. Loving touches, kind smiles, hugs and handshakes and soft kisses on cheeks, on lips. He’s been alone - well, as good as alone, kept in Lilith’s tower - for the better part of his life. Now that he’s out, now that he’s free, returning to solitude is the last thing he wants to do.

But he must. He needs time to watch, to observe the people who were raised in a functioning society, to learn and adapt. Jonathan as himself wants to rush headfirst into things, craving connection, but as Sebastian? He isn’t ready to be Sebastian, not yet.

So he takes the time to embrace the solitude he’s used to knowing that it’s for a greater good this time: his good. No one can help him here, not the other Shadowhunters at the Institute Sebastian was studying at before they met, not his father who likely imagines him dead, and certainly not Lilith who would enjoy nothing more than to see him fail and come crawling back to her. No, other people can’t help him now, this is something he has to do on his own.

And so he does. He becomes comfortable in this new skin, taking the time to learn it, to embrace it. He’s alone but he isn’t lonely, because he isn’t Jonathan, not like this. His features are soft, his smile charming, his accent endearing - people are drawn to him. People want to trust him, to believe every word he says.

He can do this. The longer he’s Sebastian the more confident he is that he can pull this off, to find the light and the goodness within himself that others seem to see there now, to make it real, to become worthy of the family he’s always dreamed of.

It doesn’t matter that he’s navigating a very delicate plan entirely alone, or that he’s willingly walked away from everything and everyone he’s familiar with to enter into a world of unknowns… not when they will take him, finally, to Clarissa.