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aroanthy · 2 months

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kiryuu sibling stasis post-32 is so interesting to me. nanami tries to leave and is (temporarily but also, crucially, violently) prevented from doing so by touga and akio. after this experience she puts distance between herself and them: she leaves touga’s phone in the car, she resigns from the student council (though she dons her old uniform still), she repeatedly dismisses and undermines the authority of the rose code, of end of the world, of akio, of touga. but she’s still in ohtori, isn’t she? uncomfortable with the idea of leaving, uncertain if it’s really possible. she tried before, and it hurt her. deeply. it’s so interesting to me, nanami’s agency and how she limits her exertion of it after 32, when she realises it for what it is. contrast that with touga, who accepts this weird stalemate between them, who is, really, uninterested in having any relationship of any kind with nanami if he can’t gain something from her. he’s very passive with her after 32, compared to the passivity he’d always feigned towards her before in order to stoke reactions from her and then exploit them. i was thinking about how touga has always been able to sever his relationship with nanami, but chosen not to; first out of a sense of obligation (‘we should live to help each other’) then a realisation of how that could be exploited. i was thinking about how nanami has never realised her ability to leave, in part because it is limited by touga and the harm he does her. i was thinking about the desperation and confusion akio calls out to anthy with as she leaves. i was thinking about how different that is to the kiryuus’ strange semi-breakdown; touga doesn’t want or need nanami, and nanami might love her brother but she cannot trust him or feel safe around him, doesn’t want to see him anymore; she’s itching to leave, and just a little scared (you know, because last time she tried that her brother assaulted her), and he’s not doing anything because ignoring her means he doesn’t have to deal with the emotions of her leaving or staying. something something gendered power dynamics something something tragic siblings

#local kiryuu sibling enjoyer has thoughts about them #i wrote this like three days ago but it’s getting posted now i have to speak my truth #touga loves a bit of inaction #nanami doesn’t but what the fuck else is she gonna do?? be brave? she tried that already #and she WILL try it again and i don’t think touga will try particularly hard to stop her #i think he might try a little but in doing so he’ll just become more aware of how much he doesn’t want to do that #and is only doing it bc of a vague sense of obligation to a perspective on life that he’s already questioned a la utena #im just. i have so many feelings about them. i bet none of you were aware of that fact already #i am once again wondering: does touga love nanami? what does that mean for each of them?#and im concluding: i really don’t think he does #i think he’s felt obligation to her and turned bitter towards that emotion and her in turn #i think he has no idea how to feel about her so he ignores the problem and exploits HER feelings as he thinks he understands them #until he realises that he doesn’t and has to deal (a little bit) with the ramifications of that #touga and anthy when nanami makes them self reflect. or swagever. the 32 way. neither of them would ever admit this but it’s true #dais.txt #her tragedy her triumph

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tennessoui · 8 months

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I'm begging on my hands and knees for more Twilight au, and those are words I never thought I'd say! Anakin being able to resist compulsion, and Obi-Wan seeming instantly obsessed, and poor Shmi! Pretty please 🥺🙏

hey!! sure! here's some more!

(2.5k)

Having a sheriff for a mom sucked a lot when he was a kid growing up in a small town. There was probably nothing Anakin was rebelling against more at eleven, at thirteen, at seventeen than the rule of law his mother represented.

All things considered, she was pretty good at separating her home life from her worklife. It was Anakin who was bad at respecting the separation, Anakin who couldn’t keep son out of delinquent. There’s only so many times he could be pulled out of wreckage and bars and buildings with Keep Out No Trespassing signs on them before he got The Sheriff at home and out in public.

He’d hated it growing up and had come to grudgingly respect it later and in fits and starts. His dad dying had, terribly and ironically, helped a lot. His mother had had a stroke just before and then Anakin had been faced with the possibility of being an orphan, and the terror of that had mellowed him out.

Sorta.

He still hates a lot of things about his mother’s job. Especially the fact that she’s the sheriff of a very small town.

And when people talk, she listens.

The thing about small towns is that everyone’s always fucking talking. And other people are always fucking lsitening so they can talk later. One big fucking community, which means when Anakin comes home from his weird doctor’s appointment with Dr. Kenobi, a few hours later because he took a detour biking along the edge of the seaside cliffs just to spit in the good doctor’s metaphorical face, Shmi Skywalker already knows more than Anakin ever planned to tell her.

Like, for instance, “Sheila says that Dr. Kenobi thought it would behoove you to spend some time at the local library volunteering.”

Anakin pauses, backpack half-slung off his shoulders. He hangs his stuff up slowly, careful to keep his tone very light. “Did Sheila say what I told him after he said that?”

His mom’s silence is very loud.

“I don’t want to do i—”

“I asked the new librarian about it on my way home from the station. She thinks it’s a wonderful idea. Apparently we used to have a program like that in the forties but it died out during the war.”

“Mom, come on—”

“It’ll look good on resumes, saying you created and supported a local reading program.”

“Yeah, but I’m a bit too old to be applying for babysitting positio—”

“It’ll look good for me as well,” Shmi says in her sheriff voice. “Elections are coming up soon. It’ll be good, if my kid was involved in the community.”

Anakin’s glad that his back is still turned to the living room, where his mom is sitting. “Are you gonna run again?” he asks, paying special attention to his tone this time.

“Why wouldn’t I?” his mom replies. “I’ve been sheriff for a decade and a half.”

Anakin lets his eyes fall closed for a second, knowing that his face can’t be seen. This is how they end up half the time: Shmi’s ardent belief that she is invincible, going up against Anakin’s desperate desire for her to be so.

And they just don’t talk about it. As if they’re actually in agreement.

He knows how this is going to shake out.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” His mother asks.

Anakin’s eyes remain closed. “I guess so,” he says.

—--------

Mrs. Kenobi—call me Satine—is sort of scary up close. She’s tall. She glides between bookshelves. Anakin’s never met someone who glides before. And she’s so intensely, incredibly, blindingly perfect that Anakin would rather be anywhere but in her vicinity. There’s something incredibly unnerving about the symmetry of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones. She’s obviously an absolute knock-out, just drop-dead gorgeous, but it makes Anakin’s skin crawl and his heart beat fast, but not in a good way or a normal teenage boy way.

Anakin tries to keep the unease off his face as Satine leads him through a tour of the library, a gentle hand on his forearm. That’s another thing Anakin doesn’t really like. She’s wearing satin gloves. He doesn’t know anyone who wears gloves anymore.

It’s just all a bit…unsettling.

“I put in a few words around the school yesterday afternoon,” Satine tells him. They pass by the mystery section, the fantasy section, and take a hard right into the young adult section. The shelves are smaller here, and Anakin feels rather stupidly gigantic as he and Satine walk through them. “To some parents picking their children up after school. They agreed it would be good exposure to bring them to the library for an hour or so of reading before supper.”

Anakin highly doubts it will be, but Satine hasn’t really asked him.

She sweeps past his figure and pushes open a pair of double doors with a flourish better suited for a Russian tsarina hosting an elaborate ball than a small town librarian showing off a small, cramped, and dusty room filled with padded seats and threadbare rugs.

And then, as if she has been waiting to put the last nail in the proverbial coffin, Satine adds, “A few students from the local high school will be here as well.”

“Sorry,” Anakin says, “are you saying I’m going to be reading to high school students? Can’t they do that themselves?”

After all, Anakin went to high school here. Academics hadn’t been too rigorously challenging, but they’d taught the fucking basics.

Satine raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow in his direction. “They’ll be volunteering as well.”

Oh. Right.

“It looks good on their college applications,” Satine waves a hand through the air and the words linger there. Anakin looks out the rather dirty window, jaw clenching. “I’ve already chosen a handful of books I think the young ones will enjoy.”

Anakin, committed to his fate, pads over to the titles placed carefully ontop of a short, stout side table.

“Peter the Rabbit,” he reads off the top. “Peter Pan. Alice in Wonderland. Treasure Island. The Prince and the Pauper—look, you’re the librarian here, but don’t you have anything written this century maybe? Harry Potter, even.”

“These are classics,” Satine tells him, her nose raised into the air as if she has encountered something particularly foul-smelling. She turns away, presumably to return to the front desk so she can welcome half the fucking town inside the library so Anakin can read them fucking Anne of Green Gables and become a better person.

“These are fucking boring,” he mutters to himself, flicking the cover of the first book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz open. Publication date: 1900. “I’d rather be in Kenobi’s office getting lectured at.”

There’s a sharp noise of disapproval from the doorway, and Anakin’s head snaps up to see the tail end of a very heated look from the librarian before the door closes behind her.

He shivers, alone in the emply room, and it takes several long minutes for his heart to settle back into its normal pace.

—----------

After the fourth kid sneezes, Anakin closes his book with a snap and stands from the very small chair they’ve got him sitting on. “Come on,” he tells the cluster of children he’s been assigned to. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Are you kidnapping us?” One of them, a snot-nosed kid who’d started the sneezing says, rubbing at her cheek beneath her glasses. “Cause mommy says that’s not allowed.”

“I’m not kidnapping you,” Anakin snaps back, barely holding in his natural follow-up to the sentence which is of course, I don’t want to be around any of you in the first place. “Also, just for future reference, you shouldn’t ask if someone’s kidnapping you after you already start following them.”

The girl scowls and reaches up her hand to hold onto Anakin’s.

For the love of Christ.

“We’re just going to go into the main part of the library,” Anakin tells his children, all six of them. “They have windows out there.”

They have windows out there and they also have parents. Parents who absolutely should be doing other things with their lives and precious hour of extra freetime.

Parents who are clustered instead around the library’s front desk as the town’s newest librarian holds court.

“Is reading time over?” one of the kids asks him, turning his head to look up at Anakin.

Anakin thinks about it. “Do you want reading time to be over?”

The kid thinks about it back. “Yeah,” he decides. “You don’t do the voices good.”

“It’s a boring book,” Anakin tells the kid. “Voices aren’t going to make it better.”

“Voices always make it better,” another kid says. “They make everything better.”

“Oh look,” Anakin says. “Is that your father?”

He gestures vaguely towards the cluster of drooling middle-aged somethings focused on Satine.

The kid peeks around his thigh and then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “That’s Dr. Obi.”

“Dr. Obi!” The kid holding Anakin’s hand says, and she lets go.

Anakin gets a bad feeling about this, a feeling that only doubles when he turns around to see Dr. Kenobi sauntering towards him, hands tucked into the pockets of a long dark jacket that makes him look even more pale than he already is.

He scowls automatically as the man gets closer. “Dr. Obi.”

Dr. Kenobi spares him a look that’s far too amused for Anakin’s pleasure before he crouches down to the level of the kids. “Hello there, young ones,” he says, opening his arms to accept a hug from the traitor of a girl Anakin’s just spent thirty minutes reading to. “Are you eating all your vegetables? Even the brussel sprouts?”

“I like brussel sprouts,” one of the kids reports sounding proud, and that starts a cacophony of opinions about brussel sprouts from all around Anakin.

“Wow! One of mine just absolutely hates them,” Dr. Kenobi says. “She refuses to eat them, so you’re very brave, Michele.” He lets go of the girl and turns his golden-brown gaze up to Anakin. “And what does Mr. Skywalker think?” he asks, raising a hand for Anakin to take. It’s very obvious he’s asking for a hand up and Anakin is obeying before he thinks about it. He snatches his hand free almost too soon, but Dr. Kenobi doesn’t even have the grace to lose his balance and fall over.

His hand is like ice in Anakin’s, and Anakin stuffs his fingers into the pocket of his jacket automatically a second later.

“Do brussel sprouts help with circulation?” he’s biting out before he can stop himself. “Cause you may need some then.”

Kenobi’s head tilts very slightly to the side as his eyes catch and hold onto Anakin’s. “Oh?” he asks lightly.

“You’re cold,” is all Anakin mutters in return. He swipes his other hand against the back of his neck. “”S poor circlutation, isn’t it? Something in your diet maybe?” Dr. Kenobi blinks at him and then breaks into a wide smile. “I can assure my diet is very…circulation-mindful,” he says. “Blood health positive.”

Anakin’s mouth thins into a line. He guesses that’s what he gets for trying to give health advice to a doctor, especially a doctor like Kenobi who just so happens to be devastatingly attractive and also smart.

And also an asshole. And also married.

Speaking of which. “Are you here to fend off your wife’s admirers with a scalpel?” Kenobi’s eyebrows raise. “Young ones,” he turns his head away from Anakin, down to the children.

The strangest feeling breaks of Anakin the second Kenobi looks away, almost as if a strange pressure he hadn’t even realized had been building was suddenly dissolved.

The very small beginnings of a headache begin to thrum in his temples.

“Young ones, it’s time to find your parents, isn’t it?” Kenobi says, and like fucking magic, the crowd of six children around Anakin disperse, children swarming away from him towards the group of adults surrounding the front desk.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Anakin blurts out, even though he’d meant to ignore Kenobi now that he doesn’t have to make nice in front of small kids. Not that he was really making nice in the first place. But now he definitely doesn’t have to.

Kenobi gives him a half-smile, eyes heavy-lidded. “It’s a special sort of skill that takes, above all else, much practice.”

Anakin scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Does Kenobi think he can’t commit himself to something even as mundane as a fucking commanding persona? Does he think he doesn’t have it in him to be–-

Kenobi’s eyebrows go up again. “Has anyone ever told you that you are exceedingly defensive?”

“You’re extremely nosey,” Anakin snaps back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t you have better things to focus on right now anyway?”

He gestures loosely towards Satine, who has started playing with one of the mother’s bracelets as the other woman stands and looks at her rather dumbfounded.

Kenobi follows his gaze and then lets out a huff of laughter. “Satine can take care of herself,” he says, even though it hadn’t really been Satine that Anakin was worried about.

He’s about to open his mouth to say so when Kenobi turns back to him. His eyes are piercing, a dark, captivating sort of gold.

“Do you find my wife beautiful, Anakin?” he asks.

Anakin blinks. His headache is getting worse, which is probably down to what can only be a trick-question fashioned to look like a grenade lobbed at his feet. “I don’t think there’s a good answer to that,” he mutters, rubbing absently at his forehead. “What the fuck.”

“An honest answer is a good one,” Kenobi says lightly. “Tell me honestly.”

The words feel pulled from Anakin’s stomach, and he’s opening his mouth before he realizes it. “No,” he says.

Kenobi’s eyebrows crinkle together. “No?”

Anakin curses his stupid impulse control. “She’s beautiful,” he adds quickly. “Really. But…it makes me uncomfortable.”

Kenobi’s lips purse, and then there’s something like disappointment in his eyes as he examines Anakin. “Ah yes,” he murmurs. “I’ve been told my wife can make countless young men feel rather uncomfortable. It’s normal in men your age, Anakin. Sexual ar—”

“Uncanny,” Anakin blurts out. He doesn’t mean to, but he also doesn’t want to listen to Kenobi trying to lecture him on fucking arousal in the public library. When it’s not even relevant. “She’s so beautiful, it’s uncanny.”

“Uncanny.”

“Yeah, like. Monstrous.”

Kenobi’s mouth falls open, pink lips parted in what looks like honest surprise.

Anakin’s own eyes widen as it hits him that he’s just called Kenobi’s wife a monster to Kenobi’s face.

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m going to go.”

He throws a look at Kenobi, whose eyes are lit with something a lot like interest and then across the library to where Satine’s head is turned, cocked, and eyebrows up high on her forehead, as if she’s just heard everything he’s said.

He decides rather immediately that he’s going to take the backdoor exit.

#asks #twilight au #obikin #a couple of things:#all the books mentioned are published before 1920 because satine was probably a young mother around that time #imo she became a vampire during ww1 #brussel sprouts tasted very bitter in the 60s through the 90s before we tweaked how they were grown genetics wise #so kids used to hate them and one of the vampires in obi-wan's coven was a kid during the 60s so has strong memories of brussel sprouts #being awful #satine's special vampire power is her beauty which is like double that of the normal enthralling/alluring/perfect predator beauty #so anakin's own sort of immunity to vampire powers a la bella means he just finds it unnerving and uncanny #but he did fall prey to obi-wans mind trick at the end there because the immunity thing i think would be something he has to practice #to get strong at #so his immunity kicked in at satine's beauty and it didn't affect him #but he couldn't also effectively protect himself from obi-wan's mind compulsion #to tell the truth #because systems overloaded

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alexanderlightweight · 11 months

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Arranged Marriage - Alec and Magnus are going to be married as part of a treaty (Shadowhunters subservient position in the treaty), and the Clave tells Alec to be their spy so they can break the treaty without penalty but finding the Downworld in violation of it.

Instead, Alec sees all the benefits that come with being Magnus' spouse and goes "nah I'm Married now."

babe fuck you!!!

stop sending me prompts that turn into chaptered fics!!!!!! (this is a joke, it's just every prompt they've given me explodes and saeth teases me about it)

<3 u and hope u like it cause you're sleeping and i'm about to wake you up for dinner

<3 lumine

Alec stares at the man he’s supposed to marry.

The man he’s set to betray and he realizes that this isn’t going to be as easy as the clave and his family expected this to be.

It’s certainly going to be both harder and easier than Alec had expected this to be.

Alec walked into this with the understanding that he was being married off as his parents own form of penance.

— personally Alec thinks that the downworld wants to punish those specifically involved in the Circle and honestly, he’d do the same and worse in their place, he just wishes he wasn’t paying the price for his parents actions —

But originally, Alec thought that this would be simple.

He’d be married to a woman — he’d always known he’d be forced into eventually, that she ended up being a downworlder didn’t matter, he’d hate it either way — and do his duty as efficiently as he could while also spying on his wife as much as possible.

Alec hadn’t known he’d be marrying a man.

Especially not a gorgeous man, dripping with power and embodying a lifetime of shattered hopes and pushed away dreams.

It changes everything.

He changes everything.

—

Magnus is standing on the dais of the most heavily warded floor of Pandemonium.

The shadowhunters that pass through his wards are all unarmed and with none of their runes active.

They’re not allowed to have either of them, not in this space and not during this ceremony.

Magnus’ future spouse is walked in and draped in gold and blue fabric instead of the pale gold and white suit the nephilim had tried to put him in — did they think they were being clever, adding the color of mourning when they presented the suit? — unarmed and with no runes bared but for the one that peeks up past his suit.

He’s deceptively tall and while exquisite, he has the weary and drawn look of an active duty shadowhunter. The kind who get too little rest and not enough nourishment, through no fault other than that their skills are in constant demand.

Magnus had demanded someone of sufficient training, rank and bloodline to be his partner and the demand was met.

If he’s going to bring an enemy into his life, then he’s going to make sure that he’s depriving the clave of one of their finest weapons. Even when they were still in talks and Magnus thought he would be marrying the younger Lightwood, Isabelle, she was a blade taken from the clave. She’s already known for her successes and failures seducing the enemy and hardly someone who could go toe-to-toe with Magnus in seduction.

However, despite the fact that she was well known for her dalliances across enemy lines, she had been withdrawn and the eldest son presented. It had been a surprise but one Magnus was all to willing to accept.

After all, why steal the spare when you can take the heir?

Alexander Lightwood is both everything and nothing like how Magnus’ thoughts had formed him.

He walks like a man to the gallows but with the grace and dignity of royalty.

It might be considered insulting that he’s obviously upset, but Magnus knows that those being married to downworlders are being sacrificed on the alter of their parents sins. Magnus and the other Elders hadn’t seen a different choice. While none of them enjoy punishing children for their parents sins, they need the power of holding sway over the families who once joined the Circle. They also need to ensure that the heirs don’t make the same mistake their parents do.

The Elder Lightwoods both freeze upon seeing Magnus.

Fear, fury and disgust flashes in their gaze and Magnus smirks, realizing that they thought the groom would be changed upon offering their son.

A pity for them, but it changes nothing.

Magnus will not let the shadowhunters in charge of the largest Institute on his territory go unchecked. Which means taking on this roll for himself, despite the fact that he could have delegated it.

Hazel eyes meet his and his future husband nearly trips up the steps.

He doesn’t, but it’s close.

Instead he manages to turn his stumble into a glide and suddenly he’s close. Nearly too close because Magnus can see the shadow of his long eyelashes on his cheeks. It meant that Magnus is watching with intrigue as hazel eyes meet his unglamoured ones and they go dark and wide with delight.

The ceremony is a stifled, oppressive mumble of words and vows and magic that Magnus can barely concentrate on.

How can he, when his groom is holding onto Magnus’ hand like if he lets go, he thinks Magnus will disappear.

How can he think of any of his plans when Alexander is looking at Magnus like he’s an oasis he’d been convinced was a mirage.

— The ceremony is a monotonous blur until the magical binding of it, after which there are no celebrations.

That would be a step too far — according to the nephilim — and well, Magnus doesn’t want to spend more time than he has to with them anyways. Instead, he summons a portal the moment everything is locked into place and the vows made and witnessed and then they’re both in Magnus’ lair.

His shadowhunter snorts, something like relieved amusement in his tone. Magnus is about to demand what is so funny when his husband turns and pulls a small vial out of his pocket.

Magnus blinks, recognizing what it is immediately and his newly wedded spouse just smirks and sets it on the counter.

“Guess I won’t be needing this now.” With a shrug — as if he hasn’t just blown Magnus’ mind — he turns and looks around Magnus’ lair with careful consideration and muted pleasure. It’s clear he’s cataluging the layout and seeing where he can fit himself into the spaces. It’s so far from what Magnus expected — from the horror stories that he’s been told — that he’s speechless for a good two minutes.

Enough time for Alexander to strip off his suit jacket and unbutton his cufflinks and cuffs, putting the former in his pocket.

Meanwhile, Magnus confiscates the potent aphrodisiac that Alexander apparently no longer needs.

“Why do you have this?” Magnus asks finally, because he thinks he knows but he wants facts before he endangers whats been months and years of planning.

Alexander looks at him and the moment his gaze slides to the small vial, all the weariness and defeat that had been on his face until he’d first seen Magnus returned.

“My family assumed that I’d be marrying a woman and led me to believe the same.” Alexander says and then the weariness fades, something much softer taking over. “Since I’m not, I’m not going to need that.” He waves his hand to the small bottle and he shoots it a glare with a startling amount of venom.

Magnus curls his fingers around the small vial and vanishes it to his potions vault for future study. While he knows what it is, it never hurts to experiment.

“Oh, you won’t be doing your duty for house Lightwood tonight?” Magnus teases, daring to tread no further than the question until he has more information. Alexander seems startled and then he seems pleased but not embarrassed — even if his cheeks do turn a fetching pink.

“More like, I just won’t be needing help to fulfill my duty anymore.” Alexander murmurs, no hint of shame on him as he walks forward.

Magnus stays where he is, letting Alexander approach, knowing there is no danger here in his own lair.

Alexander hesitates, but then his gaze steadies and his hands — large, cool and so very gentle on Magnus’ skin — frame Magnus’ cheeks and for a moment hazel stares in unafraid awe into gold and then Magnus is being kissed.

It’s like being given a gift.

Alexander is delicate, careful at first and then nearly wild with his eagerness the moment Magnus reciprocates.

His kisses are generous and clumsy and so very earnest that Magnus has to get a hand in Alexander’s hair and pull him away, just so that his boy can catch his own breath.

Alexander tugs at Magnus’ grip and when his fingers only tighten, Alexander whines and then does it again, seeming to enjoy the sensation.

“Alexander—” Magnus murmurs quietly, contemplation and a thousand thoughts in his words as he looks into the defiant, hungry gaze staring him down. “What am I going to do with you, hmm darling?”

The answer is kiss him.

This time taking control, devouring his shadowhunter until they’re both breathless and Magnus croons to a shaking, shuddering Alexander who is panting against him with a wild, delighted look.

Clearly, Magnus is going to need to figure this out. He’d expected and prepared for both the worst and the best, but this is beyond anything he’d considered from the realm of possibilities open to him.

alec: ... wow i've never been happier in my life

magnus: i am so confused by this and i want him so bad... WHERE IS THE TRAP!!! I DONT CARE THAT ITS A TRAP I JUST WANT TO KNOW SO I CAN SPRING IT, DEAL WITH THE CONSEQUENCES AND KEEP HIM

alec writing his reports to the clave in full view of magnus as magnus reads incredulously over his shoulder

magnus: alexander, why does the clave need to know that i think mismatched socks are a crime?

alec: they want new information on you. this is new information. i memorized your file. this wasn't in it

magnus: ... how? you didn't even know who you were marrying until you got there?

alec: oh. i can access clave records and files from my tablet, here. let me show you yours

magnus getting distracted by the frankly ridiculous things in his file

alec finishing his note to the clave: if we don't want this treaty broken against us, i need socks. send asap.

magnus two days later: ... why is the clave contacting my assistant about a delivery of socks?

alec: ... huh, how strange. after you make sure there isn't anything bad in them we should donate them to that werewolf hostel you were telling me about. didn't you say something about werewolves remembering to take off their shoes but never their socks?

alec internally - did i just trick the clave into helping my husband's community? yes. yes i did. i am best spouse and i'm going to prove it if i have to break the clave one firemessage at a time

magnus: ... i am going to figure out this trap one way or another!

(alec using every ounce of his political training to troll the clave while trying to learn to be the best house-husband in all the realms.

magnus just wanting to figure out how to make sure he gets to keep alec without being stabbed in the back or the heart.

alec being already his and not sure how that isn't already clear? but thats okay. he can work in some subtle treason to show magnus he's serious.

also alec is pretty much done. he was okay with going to the gallows and pretty much sacrificing himself because at least a political hostage in a marriage to a woman is still better to him than pretending to have a decent marriage and having to have sex for heirs etc. consummation is necessary for the rituals (they're pretty strict) but wouldn't have been a required part of the relationship and alec sterilized himself because he wasn't going t risk having a kid with a female fae or werewolf because he knows both sides would use any kids against him via manipulation since he'd never grow feelings for a woman.

alec after he's been given everything he's never let himself have and realizing that the clave and his family have made a big mistake, because alec doesn't care enough about the clave's political and personal agenda to give up on getting what he wants)

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #the bitter trap of truth #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec

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