#finally the bane of artists that i see people mention all the time

[jesamjdbutfurry]

@crayonmutt just sent me the final version of the commission I got from them, and he turned out great! A look I aspire to, even if I could never pull it off.

[x-ceirios-x]

restore life the way it should be

part four (and final part) of a series about the ashfair family and their history. prev | next

takes place moments after city of fallen angels, chapter 19: hell is satisfied (part 2)

rowan finally has the chance to ask the questions they'd been asking for eight years, to aric, who is finally ready to answer them. while explaining, he reflects on moments in his life with the people that were the most important.

cw: emotional scenes, mentions of major character death, mild cursing

Aric remembered New York, but it had never been like this. Growing up in the Heights when the mundane drug situation was worse instead of better, he struggled to accept that Brooklyn could look so beautiful. Then again, it was a nicer neighborhood: couples walked by in designer clothes with flashy logos, flaunting whatever money they had. A few years ago, they would have been fun to follow and shake up with his older friends if he was hurting for money at home. Instead, he walked down the street in his jeans that were torn to shreds, the nicest denim jacket he could find, and his only vest that didn’t have a hole in the side. He thought he looked like a knockoff Marty McFly. His sneakers were new, but they were also a gift from Céline for his birthday. She grew tired of him complaining his toes were cold, or of seeing his socks poke out of the end. 

Snow fell from the sky, though it didn’t accumulate much on the ground. A few piles sat on the inside edge of the sidewalk, kicked against apartments and brownstones, but the streets were surprisingly clear. Next to him, Mollie Penhallow looked around the city, her eyes shining. He -struggled to look at the city with such an optimistic view—even as an artist, Mollie was the one that found the beauty in everything. He watched as snow fell into her hair, covered by a blue beanie she’d bought on the same trip Céline insisted he needed new sneakers. He’d realized that morning the sweatshirt she was wearing was actually his, with the paint stains and cigarette burns on the sleeves. If that was one good thing becoming a shadowhunter did for him, it was stopping his habit. 

“How did you ever manage to make a friend that lives here?” he wondered aloud, speaking mostly to himself. The question was fair enough. Then again, he felt like all Shadowhunters had some weird, skeletons-in-the-closet type relationships with people. Apparently, most of his friends’ families had all known each other for centuries. Even Jeremy, whose dad was a bit of a shut-in (and a drunk, but they didn’t talk about that part often. Not his favorite topic; Aric had a personal grudge against the guy). 

Mollie shrugged. “I told you before, I helped him with this little vampire problem one time when I was here with Dad,” she said. It was the same story she’d told him a million times before, but Jeremy had summarized some of the paperwork for him: it was a much deeper case than she usually let on. She wondered if it was because she didn’t like to talk about it, or if she did it for the mystery. “Dad’s good friends with Tamara Whitelaw’s parents, so we visit once in a while. Summer holidays and all that.”

“Because you go to New York for summer vacation,” he said sarcastically. “You Shadowhunters are insane. Only time I left the country was for the damn Academy.”

She snickered at his comment. “We don’t have to pay for travel, you know. Makes a difference.”

With that, she took his hand and led him inside one of the apartment buildings. It was strange to be back in the city, but what was even stranger was how casual Mollie was with such affection. He struggled to show how much she cared for her like that. Instead, he did things like pick flowers or draw little things on her notes, always in red pen, like she liked it to be. 

They stood in the elevator quietly for a moment. He barely knew who this Magnus Bane guy was—not because he didn’t pay attention, but because Mollie hardly talked about him. He knew he was the High Warlock so he was preparing himself for tense, way-too-respectful small talk and an apology hot cocoa after this. It couldn’t be worse than when he met her father for the first time and he heard a couple insults relating to his Dominican heritage, right? 

“Is this going to be like the last time I met one of your Downworld friends?” he asked in an attempt to lighten the mood. His mood, at least. Mollie was excitedly rocking on her heels. “You know, that time we met that vampire in Zürich and she tried to kill me?”

Mollie giggled and shook her head. The bit of her hair that stuck out of the hat bounced as she moved. He’d never been one for drawing portraits, but seeing her grin like that made his hands itch for his pencils. Freckles dotted the tops of her cheeks, even in the winter, and her green eyes crinkled when she laughed. She was beautiful in the same way his first sunset he witnessed at the Academy was—so colorful, so full of life and light that it was breathtaking to witness. 

“That was a one-time deal. And, also, a bit of a trap for her. I just needed someone that was good enough eye candy to distract her long enough that I could—” She made a noise that simulated a crack and moved her hand as she would have with her whip, replaying his memory of watching the vampire’s head come off and land on the floor. At the time, it had been disgusting but looking back on it, it was funny. He supposed that was how all Shadowhunters dealt with the things they saw. 

“Is that all I am to you?” he asked sarcastically. “Eye candy? One of your Bond girls?”

“I don’t know what that is, but yes.” She flashed him a smile, one that he didn’t trust right away—over the years, he’d learned her tells, and he knew she was plotting something. Just when he let his guard down, she dropped his hand and pinched his ass. He yelped and nudged her arm, knocking her to the side slightly. She, in return, pushed him a little harder and made him fall into the wall of the elevator. 

He laughed as the doors opened and ran his hand through his hair. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he said teasingly, though spared no time catching up with her in the hallway as she walked away. “Really, though. You think this friend of yours will like me?”

“All the friends I’ve introduced you to so far love you. Hell, you stole one of my best friends to be your parabatai.”

“Gimme a few months.” His ascension, as well as those in his year, was scheduled for the end of the school term in May, and he tried his hardest not to think about it. He knew the chances of things going wrong, but he was doing all he could to prepare. If everything went according to plan, he and Jeremy planned on going through the first of the parabatai trials just a few months later. 

Mollie stopped in front of an ornate front door, much nicer-looking than the ones he’d seen on the way down to the elevator. She stood there for a moment, then turned to face him. “I know you’re nervous,” she said, her hand coming up to hold the side of his face. Her fingers were freezing from the outside air, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. “I also know that Magnus is about to charm your pants off, and you’re gonna love him.”

He looked at her curiously. “I hope you don’t mean literally.”

She only laughed and turned away. She reached up to knock on the door, but instead, the door swung open. No one was in the entryway opening it, but a voice called from down the hall, “you two were taking too long.”

Mollie chuckled and shed her winter jacket, as did he, and she led him through the apartment. The walls had the most god-awful wallpaper he’d seen since he visited his grandparents in The Dominican Republic when he was a child, and the furniture and decoration seemed to match. Everything was ill-sorted, but at the same time, coordinated in its own, strange way. Everything in the living room, he noticed as they walked by, was its own statement piece, but the place was very clean for how busy it looked. She dragged him onward and into the kitchen, connected to the living room, where a man with a black T-shirt and sparkling pink pants stood facing away from them. He was tall and tan with very dark hair, colored electric blue on the ends, and he noticed his nails were painted as he watched him bounce around the kitchen, grabbing various jars and vials of different ingredients from all over the kitchen. 

He stood awkwardly against the wall, staying out of his way, as he whirled around the kitchen. Mollie chuckled and stood with him, her hand comfortingly in his. Despite his nerves, she was there with him. When Mollie was around, there was nothing that could go wrong.

“Hand me that jar, would you?” he asked, not looking away from the book he was reading. Mollie followed his gesture and grabbed something off the shelf on the wall, sliding it to him on the counter easily. He caught it with little effort and poured the contents into the bowl in front of him. With a few words in a language he didn’t know, the mixture turned a vibrant magenta color. He looked around more—the kitchen was much brighter than the living room, with a large picture window next to the dining room table shoved in the corner. A large plant hung from the ceiling, its teal pattern a nice accent to the yellow and white kitchen. With a quick wave, everything disappeared except for the now-red bottle in his hand, which he tucked away in a cabinet above his head.

Magnus turned and beamed at Mollie. “How are you, my dear?” he asked, and without a second's delay, ran towards him and hugged him. Her feet kicked off the ground as she squealed in excitement, her arms around his neck. It took everything in Aric not to frown. 

He set her down quickly, however. “I’m sorry about all that. I promised a friend a little potion. It is so wonderful to see you again.”

“It’s been too long,” she agreed. She came back to Aric, only to drag him closer. “Magnus, I want you meet my boyfriend.” She spoke with much emphasis, which made heat rise to Aric’s cheeks. They’d been friends for a long time and the prospect of being her boyfriend was still a little new to his ears. “Aric Darrius. Aric, this is Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn and a very good friend of mine.”

Magnus’s eyes settled on him, and he noticed that they were an unnerving yellow-green color, and in a similar shape to that of a cat’s. He smiled, nonetheless, and extended his hand to shake. “I’ve heard good things,” he said. “I hope you can’t say the same thing.”

He shook his hand, though was taken off guard by the glittering wink he dropped. Very literally glittering, as it was the most makeup he’d ever seen a man wear (if you discount the videos of David Bowie that came on the TV once in a while when he was home). 

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Mollie said, and based on her laughter, Aric made an effort to treat it as a joke. He wasn’t sure how serious Magnus was, but he didn’t want to think about it too much. He turned away, though this time, he produced three mugs and began brewing coffee. “Mollie, if you want your whipped cream, there’s some on the door in the fridge,” he said over his shoulder. “Aric, how do you like yours?”

“Loaded with sugar,” Mollie answered for him, shooting him a teasing smile. “He hates the bitterness.”

“I think Jeremy is insane that he can drink straight black coffee,” he said with a sigh. “There’s nothing wrong with sugar. I’m perfectly fine with being diabetic by thirty.”

“You say that now,” she said, and grabbed the cream for Magnus, who took it graciously. He made the three cups for each of them, with some whipped cream and cinnamon on top for Mollie’s. He handed them each their mugs, which Aric appreciated to warm his cold fingers, and gestured for them to follow him back into the living room. Cheesy pop music came from nowhere—no speakers he could see, nor was the TV playing anything—and the lights turned on without anyone hitting a switch. Maybe that was the way warlocks lived: without the need to do ordinary tasks. Mollie sat on the couch and he joined her, keeping careful hold of the mug that was helping keep him warm. 

“So, Aric,” Magnus said, sitting down in the armchair a few feet away. “Mollie tells me you’re quite the artist.”

He froze for a moment, when he realized that wasn’t anything accusatory. The longer he was here, the more this felt like a job interview than meeting one of Mollie’s friends. “I, uh…I do some stuff, yeah,” he said. “Nothing major.”

“You mean not like when you got detentions for a week because you spray painted Freeman’s window because he called you some name in your maths class?”

“I only did that because he’s a racist prick,” he muttered, glancing at Magnus to gauge his reaction. He noticed Magnus’s style immediately and it was clear to him that he was quite the…flamboyant type. He didn’t think he’d have an issue with something like that. The only boy he knew at school that dressed like that was ridiculed to no end—then again, as High Warlock, he didn’t think anyone was willing to outright say anything wrong to him. 

Magnus grinned a cat-like smile. He reminded him of the Cheshire Cat—not that Mollie would know what that was. “A rebel,” he said. “I like that. So you’re the bad influence that’s giving Mollie the guts to stand up for herself better.”

Aric flushed. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Sure, Mollie had gotten her first write up because they’d cut class together, but he wasn’t that terrible of an influence, was he?

“I stand up for myself fine, thank you,” she said stubbornly. “I did tell my dad off for making me try to watch Gunny last-minute today, though. Told him I was leaving, I had plans, and I was seventeen and could get around New York perfectly fine by myself.”

He nodded and gestured vaguely to Aric. “My point exactly. You managed to turn the little bookworm into someone who takes no shit. I’m amazed.”

“Now if you could do the same to Jer, we’d all be happy.” She chuckled; Aric relaxed as he realized that it wasn’t something Magnus was upset about. He was actually impressed. Aric didn’t feel like he’d changed Mollie at all, but instead, she’d changed him. For the better. He looked over and saw that same crinkle near her eye when she smiled, and he smiled back. He remembered being fourteen and on the brink of expulsion from the Shadowhunter Academy because of his poor grades and behavior; he’d been acting out in class, started a fight with someone, and had been graffitiing the halls, when Professor Rosenhart called him to his office. He taught several different language classes, demonic and Earthly, but also managed the study hall that he was in. He met Mollie that day, and was told the only way he was going to stay in the school is if agreed to clean up his act and agreed to peer tutoring. She was in the same year, though in the nephilim track, and was top of her class. She had a brilliant smile and cheerful attitude that, at the time, pissed him off more than anything, but she proved how genuine she was, and that she wasn’t going to pull the mean-girl card and talk shit about him behind his back. Once he warmed up to her, they became good friends. He couldn’t describe the impact she had on his life. He had friends, ones that really cared about him, and for once he was happy. Not angry all the time. 

She held her hand out for him and he took one of his off the coffee mug to hold hers. It was second nature at this point. He watched her thumb run over the back of his hand as they sat there; she caught up with Magnus and he got to learn more about them both. Her familiar yet chipped green nail polish, the scar that peek from under her shirt sleeve from a training accident when she first was learning to use her whip, and the comforting scent of her floral perfume all reminded him that he was at home wherever he was, as long as he was with her. 

He caught Magnus’s eye as Mollie spoke about her latest outing with Céline, and his smile softened. He looked at him in a way that he didn’t quite understand, but he didn’t seem to be judging him anymore. Instead, he was smiling at him and looked pleased that they were so comfortable around one another. 

Time seemed to freeze around the two of them; Rowan stared into Simon’s eyes, studying his face, waiting for something to happen. Something like a look of confusion, maybe one that told them he thought this moment was strange and unwanted, but he didn’t move. As they took a breath, they could see the air fog in front of them, turning into a smoky cloud and dissipating as soon as it appeared. But nothing changed, he didn’t pull away, he didn’t push them away, so they waited. 

Something changed. They couldn’t describe what, but he relaxed and his expression softened, in a way that they were sure few people could actually see. Rowan didn’t know if they’d seen a change or just sensed it, somehow, but it was there. They struggled to find words, but eventually uttered one word: “Simon—”

Out of the corner of their eye, they saw something move, and it drew their attention. Stepping through the doors to the balcony, stood their father. They jumped away from Simon, holding their ribs as the quick movement had aggravated the pain there again. They spared Simon an apologetic look just before staring down their father. “Dad,” they said. “I didn’t know you came.”

He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and tried again. “I need to talk to you, Rowan.”

They had no idea what difference a name could make, but in that moment, Rowan felt something in their chest tighten and melt at the same time. It was a strange feeling—one of acceptance, but one of anger that it took him so long. They turned toward Simon with a sharp breath. “I’m sorry,” they muttered, feeling guilty that they’d ruined their moment. Frankly, they weren’t sure even what the moment was, but it was something they wanted–no, needed—to figure out. “I’ll call you soon, if I don’t see you for the rest of the night.”

Simon was very obviously uncomfortable and they wanted to let him get out of there as soon as possible. No one, not even Isabelle, wanted to be around when they were alone with Aric. He shook his head. “I’ll text you when I get home. Promise.”

They offered their best, encouraging smile. “I’m glad you’re okay,” they said. They felt butterflies in their stomach from the way he looked at them again, and in a moment of confidence, pushed themself on their toes and kissed his cheek. He stared for a second, like the only thought in his head was a loading screen, then smiled. With that, he made his way inside the building again, leaving them outside, alone with their father. 

He was quiet for a long moment, as if trying to decide what to say. Rowan couldn’t read their father’s expression; he looked angry, and he looked tired. They leaned back against the banister behind them, arms on top of the railing, but sucked air through their teeth at the movement. Being with Simon had made the pain fade, even for a moment; they were too busy listening to their heart pounding in their ears every time he looked at them. Their ribs hurt and breathing made it worse. 

Aric walked slowly towards them and pulled a stele from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Where are you hurt?” he asked carefully. 

“I can do it myself,” they said, answering his question without really answering it. They took the stele out of his hand and began drawing an iratze on their wrist. It wasn’t where their injuries were, but it was something. It faded almost instantly, just as the runes they’d tried earlier did; this would be something they would have Alec or Jensen do for them, but neither was anywhere to be found. 

He sighed and held his hand out for the stele. “May I?”

Begrudgingly, they caved and gave him the stele back, and pulled up the side of their shirt, allowing him to draw the healing runes on their ribs. He knelt next to them and they felt the familiar burn of the stele. 

“You look pale,” he said, glancing up at them. “Did the vampire…?”

“His name is Simon,” they said as if they were cursing at him. “And yes. But I let him bite me, he needed it.”

He hummed in acknowledgment and nodded. He forced forward such a neutral expression that they could never see what he was thinking. It bothered them that he didn’t show any emotion when he spoke to them, not unless he was angry. That only happened when they pushed just the right buttons. He spoke after a beat, “You two seem…close.”

They made a frustrated noise. “What do you want?” they asked, angry with his small talk. “You should be home, watching Jensen. Why are you here?”

“Jensen is perfectly fine by himself for an hour or so,” Aric muttered. He sounded hurt, but quickly covered it. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

They scoffed.

He stood and put the stele back in his pocket. They felt the effects of the iratze begin to sink in as the pain in their ribs faded. They felt the dizziness in their head disappear, too, and wondered how many runes he’d drawn. Not that it mattered—as long as they were healing, they didn’t care. “I spoke to Magnus tonight,” he said, almost like it was painful. He was dancing around whatever his point was, specifically choosing words that wouldn’t upset them. “He made me realize that things haven’t been…fair, lately. And you deserve more answers than I’ve given you.”

They looked at him for a moment, staring with their eyes half-lidded. Really? they thought, rolling their eyes. “Understatement of the century,” they said sarcastically. “Glad someone made you come to your senses, but I’m not interested.”

“Rowan,” he said, irritation rising in his voice. 

Their temper flared. “Don’t pull that on me. I’m glad you’re finally respecting my autonomy as a person to exist and all, but I’m not going to be all up in my feelings because you decided me almost dying was enough for you to start being a father.”

“Dammit, Alice, will you just listen?” 

Rowan rarely heard Aric raise his voice at anything. It wasn’t anger in his voice, though—when they paid a little further attention, he sounded like he was ready to cry. They stood there silently, staring at a pebble on the balcony floor. 

Aric took a deep breath, leaning over the guardrail and looking out at the city below them. It was silent for a long moment. 

“I am trying,” he said, pulling himself back together. He spoke calmer, now, though didn’t look at them. “I need you to see that. I have been trying for you, for Jensen. And I can’t make up for the time I spent away from you both—”

“No,” they said, their voice cold. Not angry anymore, just uninterested. “It can’t.”

“I want to show you that I want to fix things,” he insisted, ignoring their comment. A beat of silence passed again. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, not now. All I’m asking…” he trailed off for a moment, and hung his head. “I’m asking you to listen, alright? Then you can make whatever decision you want and I will respect it. I’ll stay out of your life, if that’s what you want.”

They stayed quiet. They didn’t want to listen to more reasons that bordered on excuses, full of comments about how they were too young to understand. They weren’t, firstly, and they were tired of everyone thinking they were a child. Maybe sixteen was a child by official standards, but they’d seen more than even most Shadowhunters would in their lifetime. And still, they persevered. 

He took their silence as compliance and began to speak. “I never wanted to burden you with my past,” he said. “I grew up here, in New York, up in Washington Heights. It wasn’t a great area, but my mother did everything she could for me. I…I was always a strange kid, and saw things that others didn’t. It started with flashes of, what I thought was, glitter or something shining in some fake fortune-teller’s window or someone with incredibly pointed ears, but the older I got, the more I recognized. I never told anyone.”

“Like Clary,” they said. “Without the whole…magic memory thing.”

“Very similar to Clary. That’s why Maryse wanted me here to train her. I could empathize with what she was going through,” he agreed. “First time I realized I wasn’t just going crazy was when I was fourteen—I was out with my one friend, Ramon, and these…people tried to jump us. We got into a huge fight about it later. He remembered the fight as these guys pulled a knife, but to me, they didn’t have weapons. They were trying to bite, and I learned later, kill us.”

They looked at him for a moment. They rarely heard their father’s accent, only when he was angry or incredibly tired. It was slight, but they found out through Maryse that his family was Dominican a few weeks ago. Just another thing about him they had to learn from someone else. They wondered if he grew up speaking Spanish, or if he just learned the pronunciation from his friends. “Vampires,” they said. “How old were you when that happened?”

“Barely thirteen,” he said. “Next day, someone comes to the door—my mother, my amá, thought it was the cops showing up and I was in trouble again.”

They scoffed. “What kind of trouble were you in at thirteen?”

His expression hardened. “More than I ever wanted you to experience.” They could tell from the way he spoke about it that it was better not to ask. They didn’t think someone so young could get into too much, but at the same time, most thirteen-year-old shadowhunters already had a general idea of what weapons they preferred and how to use them to kill any number of demons. Most of it was training and work in theory, not in the field, but still. Maybe mundanes didn’t get that kind of structure. Not all of them, at least. He continued, “Delaney Scarsbury showed up personally—he was the training master at the Academy when it was open, and basically recruited me. I was a mundane with the Sight, and back then, the Mortal Cup was still regularly used to Ascend mundanes.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you grew up in New York?” they asked, looking over him, imploring him to give them an answer. All these thoughts about why he had or hadn’t done things spun around their head until it hurt. “There’s so much I don’t know about you. I guess I don’t understand why.”

He hesitated. “My childhood wasn’t good by any means. You don’t need to know the details, not because I don’t think you can handle it, but because I didn’t even tell your mother most of it. She learned not to ask.”

Their mouth fell open slightly, though they pulled themselves together. They decided to change the topic. “So what happened with the Academy? You went?”

“From thirteen on. Told my amá it was a tuition-free boarding school, but I’d be gone nine months out of the year. She wanted to give me a better life, so let me go.”

“I don’t think I can do this, Jer,” Aric said one morning before breakfast. The two were preparing for the day as they usually did, with Jeremy sitting on his bed, his nose buried in a book he wasn’t paying attention to, as he amused himself watching Aric scramble. They had five minutes until they were due to be in the breakfast hall, which he couldn’t miss today, because he promised Mollie and Céline he’d be there. After all, he might not be there the next day to see them. 

He’d spent the last week studying everything about all of his friends. He never wanted to forget Céline’s shy smile, hiding behind her blond hair that she played with when nervous. He watched Jeremy in the evenings when they were winding down for bed and watched the way his brown hair curled at the ends, and the gold-rimmed glasses that always sat a little crooked on his nose when he was reading. And most of all, Mollie, whose eyes were greener than the grass in the Academy courtyard and her eyes lit up his darkest days. 

He stared at himself in the mirror in front of him, anxiously fidgeting with his shirt. It wouldn’t lay quite right, then he’d untuck it and tuck it back in, trying to figure out how to look his best. His hair hung in his eyes these days, and he’d spent many days laying in the grass and having one of the girls braid it. He was tanned, taller, covered head to toe in freckles, and had filled out much more than the scrawny kid he was a few years ago when he first arrived. To him, he still felt like that kid, even if his shirts and his shoes seemed to be too small on a regular basis, no matter what he bought. 

Aric felt a hand catch his as he went to pull at his shirt again, and he realized Jeremy was standing next to him. It was strange, he realized suddenly, how much taller he’d gotten than his roommate. They’d been friends for a few years and swore, if he saw the other side of this, that they’d become parabatai. It felt like only a few months ago he stood eye-to-eye with him, but these days, he saw the top of his head more than the rest of his face. 

“Please breathe,” he said. He spoke with the same dry sarcasm he usually did. “You’re making me anxious.”

“Thanks,” he said, and turned back to the mirror. He looked fine, he supposed, but he wanted to look nice. There were all sorts of sayings about first impressions, but what about last ones? He wanted his friends to remember him nicer than he might have been, and less of a pain in the ass. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Jeremy said. He grabbed his shoulders and turned towards him. “I don’t care what you think will happen today. You are Aric Darrius, and you’ve been through hell and back. You can survive a little angelic magic.”

He was right. Out of the three of them, Jeremy was the only one he’d mentioned some of his stories from home to. Céline never asked, Mollie stopped after it turned into an argument; he hadn’t wanted to tell Jeremy, either, but he argued that if they were going to be parabatai, he couldn’t worry about what he thought of him all the time. He was going to be there for the best and worst moments of his life, whether he liked it or not. 

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes casting to the floor. “No, you’re right. I know.”

“Believe it when you say it,” he said, and suddenly pulled him forward. He stumbled, just slightly, but caught himself as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Jeremy squeezed him tightly and Aric felt himself relax a little. He didn’t have an option to fail this, he couldn’t leave Jeremy and everyone behind. 

“I’m not going to do all the tears and pep talks later,” he said quietly. “You know I love you; you know I believe in you. Prove to those assholes who call you a dreg who the hell you are.”

“I will,” he said, and with a deep breath, pulled away. He watched Jeremy wipe the corner of his eye and fix his glasses, clearly more upset about the situation than he wanted to let on. He didn’t blame him.

He headed towards the door and grabbed his bag off the floor in the corner. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, and headed out the door. 

Aric took a final look around the room he’d been in for the last year and a half. Usually, the shadowhunters and mundane students didn’t room together, but since they announced their willingness to be parabatai, the rules bent a little. Maybe, administration wanted to make sure they wouldn’t kill each other if they spent twenty-four hours a day together. He cracked a smile and closed the door behind him. 

Breakfast passed in a tense silence. No one wanted to break it—no one wanted to speak. It was only when they realized Aric had to leave to prepare for the ceremony later that day that someone finally broke the silence. They stopped in the courtyard, in front of the training area where he was supposed to meet his teachers and the rest of the students preparing. 

He wasn’t prepared for Céline, who was rather small in her nature, to practically knock him over in an enveloping hug. She lunged for him, her arms around his neck, which practically lifted her feet off the ground. He leaned into her and felt her shake, very obviously holding back tears. “You better be here later,” she said. “We’ll meet here, same place, right after the ceremony. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said as she finally let him go. He, gently, wiped some of the tears off her cheeks. “You’re gonna see me in a few hours, alright? I’ve got this.”

“I better,” she said. He thought she sounded like a child, which to him, made the situation almost funny. She stepped to the side and practically hid behind Jeremy, who held her hand reassuringly. He wondered if there was something going on between those two, but now wasn’t the time to ask. 

He knew who was standing in front of him. Mollie Penhallow, the girl who made him believe in childish things like true love and soulmates. The girl who’d pulled him out of a deep, dark depression and very literally saved his life a few times. His favorite thing to draw, though he could never get her personality to come through quite right. He could spend hours just looking at her; she was the sun to his shadow, and he didn’t think he loved anything else more in the world. 

“Hey,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She stepped closer to him and took his hand, gently, like she always was with him. In the beginning, he thought it was pity. When they first met, all she was to him was his tutor, someone who probably thought she was better than everyone because she was smart and strong and all that. But he’d learned to see around his own prejudices and realized she was just kind. He didn’t know what Professor Rosenhart meant when he said that he’d specially picked his peer tutor for him, but he was right; Mollie was special, and she was perfect. 

He knew better than to look at her, but his eyes deceived him. He saw the way tears lined her gorgeous green eyes, and how her lower lip quivered, but how she was trying to stay strong in that moment. He knew if he looked at her that he’d start crying too—she was the only person to ever make him do that. But he did, and the felt the tears well in his eyes, and kissed her. He kissed her with all the love and emotion he had, trying to convey how much he loved her in such a simple action. 

He pulled away slowly, and she smiled sadly. This wasn’t goodbye, he reminded himself, but it certainly felt like it. No one knew if he was going to survive this, not until it happened. He had the chance to, but just in case…

She tucked a piece of hair behind his ear and dropped his hand. “I love you,” she said quietly. “I know you’re coming back to me.”

“I am,” he said, even if he didn't entirely believe it. He vowed never to lie to her, but if it preserved the onslaught of emotions he knew was coming, he could pretend to be fine just for a little while. Mollie left his side and hugged Céline, who was still sniffling, and buried her head in her shoulder, no doubt hiding her own tears. 

Jeremy left the two and walked him closer to the training area, just out of earshot of the girls. He held the side of his face, and Aric mirrored him on the other side. “For whither thou goest, I will go,” he said.

“And where you die, I die, right?” he asked. “Or something like that.”

“Not today.” Jeremy looked at him for a moment, as if deciding something, and pulled away from him. “Like Céline said. Meet back here later.”

“I might not be here later.”

Jeremy, who rarely acted with any sort of confidence, was the most assured he’d ever seen him when he spoke. “You will be. I know it.” 

“I had a parabatai,” Aric explained. “My best friend, I met him through your mother. He was—”

“Jeremy Lovelace,” they said, looking over at him. He raised his eyebrows and they turned back away from him. “Magnus told me about him. Not that he knew much. He’s a Silent Brother now, right?”

He nodded solemnly. “I see him, once in a while. Brother Elijah. It’s not the same as it used to be, with all the…” he paused for a moment, unsure of what words to use, “...Silent-Brother-ness, but he was the one that performed your and your brother’s protection rituals when you were born. He adored you both, but could only do so much due to his responsibilities in the Brotherhood.”

Rowan smiled softly at the idea. They wondered what it would have been like to grow up with more family on their dad’s side, even if it wasn’t by blood. They had Uncle Patrick and Aunt Jia, and Sebastian’s parents when the three of them were alive, but a parabatai was something special. Once, they thought they’d be Alec’s and they’d been heartbroken when they found out Jace and Alec were going to do the same. The older they got, the more they learned to deal with the feeling. “What happened?” they asked softly. 

“He was hurt. A rogue warlock,” Aric sighed, and they noticed he gripped the railing tightly. “The magic was killing him slowly. He was just…dying. We sent you to Magnus for a few days, but in the meantime, he got ahold of Brother Zachariah for us. He knew someone who’d been through something similar and offered the idea. It was better than him dying, and Jeremy had always liked books and archives. He was always smarter than me; so was your mother.” A soft smile graced his features; he spoke of them fondly, in a way they rarely saw with him. “You remind me of them in that way.”

They looked at him for a moment and watched how his expression turned wistful and nostalgic. It was the first time they could remember that he’d talked about their mother and looked almost happy. He said her name like it was some kind of painful secret, something he wanted to keep in the past, but they insisted they dug it up. Despite his pain, they wanted to know where they came from. 

He’d never seen Jeremy look so pale. Sure, he preferred to spend a beach day under an umbrella reading, but he looked sicker than the day before, and the day before that. There was a pain in his side, just above his hip where his parabatai rune sat, that told him something was wrong. Even if he didn’t see him, he could tell. 

A voice said his name. He turned to see Mollie in the doorway, leaning against it. Her smile was soft but sad as she walked towards him, running her fingers through his hair. He leaned into her touch, leaning his head back. She pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Darling,” she said, “you can’t stay here all day. You have to eat something.”

“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned back against the dining room chair that they’d dragged into the bedroom for him. “I don’t want to be…”

“Sweetheart,” she said with a sigh. “If something was wrong, I’d call for you. You know that. Why don’t you let me stay here, and maybe shower, or eat, or—“

“Mollie,” he said, his voice hard. “I’m not leaving.”

She sighed but conceded. Jeremy was her friend, too, but he didn’t know if she could understand what he was dealing with. She and Céline, despite their close friendship, had never been parabatai. He comforted her when the Circle pulled her further and further in as their actions got worse. The two of them together barely convinced Mollie’s brother, Patrick, to get out of there while he still could. With Céline, they had no such luck. She was in love with Stephen Herondale, and she felt that she’d found a family among their ranks. Mollie had been heartbroken to hear her say such things—she thought she had been enough family for her. 

“Alice is doing fine with Magnus,” she said. “His offer is still open. He’ll contact his friend in the Silent Brothers.”

“It won’t come to that.”

“If it does, love,” she said. She kissed his temple and sighed. “You know we’ve done what we can.”

“And I’ll find something else, Mol, I can’t—“ His voice cracked terribly and he took a deep breath to settle himself. He’d never been one for tears, but the years with his friends slowly melting his icy personality had affected him more than he wanted to admit. “I can’t lose him, too. I won’t.”

“You won’t.”

Aric’s head shot up. Jeremy had spoken, awake for the first time since the previous morning. He smiled and quickly wiped his eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

He smiled weakly. “Like hell, frankly.” He held his hand out for Aric, who took it without a second thought. Mollie, the attentive nurse she was through all this, helped him sit up enough for him to adjust the pillows, and said she’d be back with some water for him. Jeremy thanked her, though didn’t speak again until the door clicked shut. 

“You need to call Magnus,” he said, his voice strained. 

Aric’s eyes flew open wide and he sat up straighter. “Absolutely not. There’s more we can do, I haven’t heard back from Guinevere yet in Paris—she said she might be able to help—“

“Aric.” He squeezed his hand, but even in that, he could feel how weak he was. He was right. If he wanted to stay alive any longer than possibly tomorrow, the Silent Brothers needed to be called for more than healing. When he was awake last time, Mollie had breached the idea to him, and he’d accepted it. Aric, not so much. 

Aric stared at him for a long moment. The vibrancy in his eyes had faded, there was a thin layer of sweat on his skin but his hands were cold and clammy no matter how many blankets they applied. The last time they reapplied bandages on him, the poison had spread from his hip where he’d been hit, up further, and now was close to his heart. 

“Entreat me not to leave thee,” Aric said slowly, recalling the words he’d spoken to his best friend years ago, “or return from following after thee.” He paused for a moment in an attempt to settle his voice, took a breath, and continued. “For whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge.”

Jeremy smiled. “Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my—“ He broke into a coughing fit, leaning to the side and coughing into his hand. He tried to hide it, but Aric could see the hint of scarlet blood on his hand. 

Aric shook his head and continued. His voice shook but he tried his best to stay steady. “Where thou diest, I will die, and there I will be buried.” He sighed deeply and held Jeremy’s hand between both of his. He didn’t want to think about the idea of Jeremy dying, but he knew he was running out of time and options. “The Angel do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.”

Jeremy smiled. “I was so happy you memorized that,” he said. “I know how much you struggled with it. Old English and all.”

“Yeah,” he said. At the time, it was something that made no sense. He didn’t know that the vows even meant until Mollie broke down the words and explained it to him. Since the day of their ceremony, though, the words felt like second nature. Death would be the only reason they would ever be apart, he was sure of that. “Now it doesn’t seem so bad.”

“I know.” He coughed again; this time, Aric handed him a tissue and promptly tossed it away when he settled down. “The Silent City really isn’t so far away. I wouldn’t say visit,  but if you really miss me…”

For the first time in days, Aric smiled. “I don’t think I would be around the Brotherhood more than I have to be. I’ll make an exception for you, though.”

“You’d better.”

He nodded but didn’t reply, only leaned forward and rested his forehead against his hand. “Just like you told me the day I Ascended,” he said, closing his eyes. “We’ll make it through to the other side of this. You will.”

“Can you…” Rowan started, trying to put the words together in a way that wouldn’t make him pull away again. They came up with a better question instead. “How did you meet mom?”

He cracked the smallest hint of a smile. “Your mother was my tutor, assigned to me by one of my teachers. Like I said, she was…god, she was brilliant. I thought she was getting bonus points to be my friend in the beginning, or something along those lines, but she was just so…kind. A good person, really. We did the scheduled tutoring meetings once or twice a week, but one day she offered for me to eat lunch with her and her friends. I joined them and never looked back. By the time the next school year rolled around, I was already close with Jeremy and Céline, too.”

“Céline Herondale?” they asked. “Like Jace’s mom, right?”

“She was Céline Montclaire when I knew her,” he said. “She was a tortured girl, but she had a kind heart. Mollie took her under her wing when they were kids and insisted she be involved in everything she did. She and Jeremy got on well, and I got to know her when Mollie had me start joining them for things. She…she got involved with the Circle after Jeremy, Mollie and I left the Academy. She was lonely without us, which I guess our busy lives didn’t help with. But Valentine’s presence was getting stronger. I heard Amatis and Stephen had their baby, but he left her not much later for Céline. It was Stephen’s choice, sure, but Mollie begged her not to go through with marrying him. That was their last big fight—I really don’t know if they ever spoke again. I know she never talked about her.”

Rowan made a face as he spoke, though quickly pushed it away. This Stephen Herondale guy seemed like a prick, the more they heard about him, but so did everyone that associated with Valentine at the time. When they heard about Maryse and her days in the Circle, they thought she was acting a little self righteous, too. “So it was just the two of you?” they asked. “Plus me, I guess. And Jensen.”

“Jensen didn’t come along for another few years, but…yeah. We were happy, despite it all. And the second you were old enough to start walking, you wanted to climb.” He chuckled; it was the happiest they’d seen him. So we built that treehouse in the backyard—do you remember all that?”

“Not building it,” they said. “But I remember it.”

“You spent every day in there, drawing or reading or hiding away from the world. The number of times I heard one more chapter…” he trailed off, looking down at the city below them. 

Despite the regular city noise, it was rather peaceful. And now that the runes had worked, they felt much better about talking to him like this. Having a literal pain in their side while trying to do something that set them on edge wasn’t the best idea, but he was good with runes. They didn;t hurt as much when he did them, even though the burn of it didn’t bother them anymore. Maybe Jensen got it from him. 

Aric didn’t think he’d ever get used to living in the country like this. The Academy was one thing—there was always some chatter in the hallways, leaking pipes or creaking boards in the incredibly old building. But after Mollie’s father passed, the family estate passed down to her and her siblings. Patrick was in Beijing with his wife and their young daughter, Guinevere got engaged and was out in Paris with her fiancé, and after traveling for a little while, Mollie decided she wanted to return to Idris. Anywhere she wanted to be, he would follow. 

The sunset above the trees casted a warm glow over the landscape, one that he would have painted if he wasn’t so busy these last few weeks. He started getting more involved with the Council and Clave politics with Mollie’s encouragement when he expressed interest in it, but shortly after they found out she was pregnant. Safe to say, things had been busy for them. Neither were sure they were ready to be parents, but it was a happy surprise they were going to figure out together. And Penhallow Manor felt empty with just the two of them, anyway. 

He stepped through the front door and was immediately hit with a strong smell from the kitchen. He wished he could say it was good, but he knew Mollie’s cooking abilities better than that. At least he didn’t smell smoke. That was a good sign. 

He walked into the kitchen and saw Mollie, as carefully as possible, placing a leaf of some kind on top of a plate of food as a garnish. He chuckled and waited until she stood back up to greet her. “I thought today was going to be a zombie day when I left,” he said teasingly, kissing her cheek. “Not so much?”

“I got a burst of energy about an hour ago, but after this, I am so done for the day,” she said, sounding incredibly proud of herself. He noticed, then, the music coming from the corner of the room. He wasn’t sure how these shadowhunter machines worked without electricity, but he gave up trying to figure it out ages ago. It was basically a record player, and it worked with mundane records, and Mollie was listening to Elton John for the millionth time. 

He chuckled and took her hands, pulling her close. “You know, I really need to introduce you to good mundane music,” he said, beginning to sway with her. And, just like their wedding day, she kicked her shoes to the side and stood on his feet, allowing him to control where and how they moved. There was a time he believed Mollie was perfect and could do anything, but he learned quickly that she was a terrible dancer. It only made her more charming. 

“I like this stuff,” she insisted. “Your music gives me a headache.”

“I like something that’s a little harder than cheesy pop, sorry.” He grinned at her, and she shoved his arm for it. Not hard, not even enough to interrupt them, but they’d had a habit of play-fighting since before they started dating. Or, sometimes, actually sparring. 

They stayed like that for a long moment, swaying in the kitchen, listening to the music, and waiting for dinner to cool off. He’d mutter to her, something to make her laugh, and she’d giggle and rest her head on his shoulder. Or she’d say something about her day, going into some tangent about how she was getting very tired of taking five minutes to put shoes on, and insist that it really was his fault, and he’d reply for the nth time that she seemed to enjoy herself at the time. It was the little moments like these, by themselves, that he clung to when he was having a particularly rough day, or they were fighting. They’d been through the loss of her father, losing Céline, and later finding out about her death, Jeremy turning into a Silent Brother and breaking the parabatai bond and the severe depression he fell into for a few months after that. Because despite rough patches, they still had each other, which was the important part. 

The music stopped after a moment, and Aric sighed, realizing that he had to flip the record if they wanted to keep listening. He wanted to stay in that moment forever, even if his toes might hurt later. She smiled at him, her green eyes warm and loving. She dropped his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck, playing with his hair. He loved it when she did that. “You know, believe it or not, I love you,” she said. “Novel idea, I know.”

“Oh, I’ve never heard such words. Are you sure?” There was some truth in his words. Before the Academy, he didn’t get much of the soft and affectionate kind of love he’d grown used to now. The first time she heard about that, Mollie insisted that she’d do whatever she could to remind him that she cared for him, no matter what he had or hadn’t heard before. I love you became a constant phrase between them, something that took him a while to warm up to, but as he got comfortable with it, he began to say it back just as often. Now, it was something of an inside joke between them. 

Her smile flickered for a moment to a look of concern he was used to with her. She, despite his best efforts, worried for him. “I’m serious,” she said, brushing a bit of hair from his face. 

“I know you are.” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too. More than anything else in this world.”

“I guess…” they started, speaking lighter than they expected to. Something in them was still angry with him, but they couldn’t yell at him for doing the same thing they’d asked him to do for years. “I don’t understand. If everything was so great, what happened? All I know is one minute mom’s alive, and the next we’re at her funeral and Jen and I are getting shipped off to New York.”

He nodded solemnly—he held no energy to try to argue against that. In short, that was what happened. “Did Magnus tell you about Cairo?”

“Yeah,” they said with a frown. “Mission gone awry, right?”

“Basically.” He looked pained to be speaking about it, but he continued nevertheless. “We were helping out the Institute there—they were severely understaffed and dealing with a few too many demon attacks for them to handle. We walked into battle together and never walked out.”

Aric sniffled and wiped the corner of his eye, looking away like he was trying to hide from them. It was the most emotion they’d ever seen their father give. In a rare moment of sympathy for him, they placed their hand over his on the rail; neither acknowledged it, but they didn’t move.

“Your mother’s death destroyed me in a way I can’t explain,” he admitted. “I’d lost everyone, and through it all, she was always there. I didn’t know how to cope with it.”

“So you sent us away,” they said, glancing over at him. Even in the darkness, his eyes looked a little red. “Wouldn’t you want your children around you, then?”

“Not like that,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I couldn’t think straight. Maybe it wasn’t a good decision by any means, but it was the one I made. Patrick and Jia couldn’t take care of you both by themselves, and I…I couldn’t function.”

“Why New York?” they asked, changing the topic slightly. “Of all places—why with the Lightwoods? Had we even met them before?”

He nodded. “Once or twice. After the Uprising, I got more involved with the Council in Idris and befriended Maryse and Robert. Mostly Maryse—I don’t think Robert ever liked me very much.” He chuckled wryly. “It was ironic. Your mother and Maryse hated each other in school, mostly because of academic rivalry and ideologies clashing. But years later, as adults, they settled their differences.”

“Didn’t mom have as sister, though? Younger than Patrick?”

“She did. She died before Jensen was born, unfortunately.”

Rowan frowned, balling their opposite hand into a fist. They dug their nails into their palm. “This family seems to have a lot of death in it.”

Aric sighed defeatedly. He couldn’t argue that. “It does. But the Uprising hurt a lot of people, and demons breaking through the wards around the world have gotten more frequent as time goes on, even just in your lifetime, let alone mine.” He turned slightly towards them. “I don’t know, and I’ve never known, if I made the right choices for you and your brother. I constantly think about what could have happened if you both had stayed with me or if there was anything else I could have done to make things better. I always, always, wanted what was best for you.”

They didn’t say anything to that. Even a few days ago, if he would have said that, they would have laughed in his face and told him he was full of it. But this made more sense. It didn’t excuse some of the things he did, but they understood that his options were limited. Would they have grown up better staying with him? Would things have been different? Would they have ever known Alec, or Isabelle, or Max, or Maryse, or Robert, or Jace, or even Hodge? All the people who were so influential in their life now would have never even known them. They supposed they had to thank him for that—they had a best friend, a great mentor (before his betrayal, they supposed), a sister they never really wanted but were glad to have anyway, and parents that, despite their best efforts, probably did care about them. And because they were in New York at the right time, they met Clary and Simon, who single-handedly turned their life on its head and gave them a different kind of friendship they weren’t used to. Especially not with Simon. 

Simon. They felt terrible they had to send him away, but they knew from the expression their father had that there was no way to procrastinate this conversation. They wanted to talk to him, maybe ask what the hell all that waiting was about, and if there was something going on between them that they didn’t know about. They weren’t even sure how they felt about him, but they knew that they’d thought about kissing him one-too-many times to know they were ‘just friends’. But he was interested in Isabelle, wasn’t he? Or Maia? Or maybe he was still into Clary? Surely not them when he had so many options of these beautiful girls around him. 

Aric spoke again. “I hope you never have to experience the loss I have, Rowan,” he said. And there it was again: he not only remembered, but he was making an effort. “But I do hope, someday, you’ll feel the love I did, surrounded by friends that treat you the way mine did for me. I’d like to say I was never exactly materialistic, but I was rich with the people I had in my life. Your mother was the most important of them.” He paused for a moment. “Though, from what I can see, you might have already found that.”

They turned towards him, eyes wide in surprise. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He got a smug smile on his face; it reminded them of Magnus and his stupid little looks when he talked about things they ‘wouldn’t understand for a while’. “You’ll get it eventually. Just don’t wait for someone to knock you upside the head and tell you you’re into the vampire.”

They spluttered, heat rising to their cheeks. The only thing they could manage in the moment was to shove his shoulder, pushing him away. “His name is Simon!” they said, and groaned into their hands. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

He laughed. Really, genuinely laughed, and Rowan couldn’t remember the last time they heard him do that. “You don’t have to,” he said, though his smile didn’t disappear. 

The doors on the balcony swung open again and they looked to see who it was. Maryse, her face pale and panicked, looked at the two of them. Another moment, she might have been happy to see them laughing together, but something was wrong. “Aric,” she said and rushed towards the two of them. “You both need to get back inside. Andromeda just came back from checking the roof, and Jace is gone. So is Sebastian.”

Rowan stared for a moment. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

Maryse looked like she hadn’t heard them, only looking at Aric. His jaw set, and he placed his hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to find him,” he said. “I promise, we will.”

The two rushed back inside to join the group of panicked Shadowhunters and Downworlders, some family, some friends, and some Conclave members dispatched to help with Lilith. Aric started talking to people and they could see groups moving towards the elevator. Izzy was close to her mother’s side, clinging to her arm. She couldn’t see either of their faces but they both looked rigid. They turned away from the chaos and pulled out their phone which thankfully hadn’t broken in the fight. They dialed a number quickly and pulled the phone up to their ear. It rang a few times and left them on voicemail. They called again, then a third time, with no different outcome. 

Hey, it’s Jensen. I’m probably asleep, or maybe busy. Shoot me a text or I’ll call you back when I get this. Thanks!

Rowan’s stomach dropped as they thought of the worst, though they tried to keep themselves steady as they rejoined the group inside. They stood with their father, eyes staring at the floor, until he was done speaking to the people he was with. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone dropping to something softer than the authoritative voice he used when he was focused on work. “Rowan?”

“Jensen isn’t picking up,” they said. “He’s probably asleep, but with Jace missing, I just—”

He didn’t let them finish. “Magnus!” he called among the chattering voices. They rarely heard Aric raise his voice at anything. It wasn’t anger in his voice, though—when they paid a little further attention, it was panic. 

Magnus appeared, Alec just behind him, moments later. He didn’t look angry at him anymore but was surprisingly willing to help. “What?”

Aric took a breath, frustrated that he had to ask but knowing that he had limited options. “I need a favor.”

Years before, the record player in the kitchen was moved outside and into the treehouse. Aric spent most of his time there instead of indoors these days, painting the walls or playing pretend with the children. Mollie missed having the music sometimes but she could always get another if she wanted it. It was better to listen to the laughter that poured through the open windows. 

An hour or so ago, she had to deal with the daily fight of getting Jensen to lay down for his nap. If they skipped it, he was a wreck for the rest of the day, but if she wanted to lay him down, he argued that Alice didn’t have to, so he shouldn’t either. He was a big kid now, right? She laughed each time as he tried to come up with a better argument, and eventually brought him inside with the promise of a story before a tantrum started. 

She returned outside, now, when she was sure he’d settled. The laughter died down and now it was quiet, save for the music playing from the treehouse. Music she recognized, and she giggled to herself as she realized it was Elton John—Aric’s supposed least favorite. He wouldn’t be listening to it if it wasn’t his idea. 

She climbed the rope outside the opening and sat on one of the knots, watching the scene inside. Her child’s unruly hair had been pulled into uneven pigtails, pinned by tiny bow clips and ribbons that were scattered all over the floor. That had to be why Jensen came in with one in his hair, too. Their dress was caked in mud, especially at the knees, to which she rolled her eyes—it was every day she had to fight to get the grass stains out of clothes for her two troublemakers, but they were growing out of their clothes so quickly these days that she didn’t mind. Freckles dotted their arms and legs, and she noticed their Mary-Janes were also disgusting with mud. Of course, the nice shoes she bought were the ones they decided to play in. 

The child had their face buried in their father’s neck, who was holding them, rocking slowly to the beat of the song. Aric didn’t seem to notice that she was there but was instead lost in singing quietly along and staring out the window. He didn’t look much better than them—his jeans also had mud and paint on them, no doubt from the countless hours he’d spent in that treehouse, painting it to perfection for them. Mollie pulled the camera from her pocket—ever since Aric introduced them to her and she found out they worked in Idris, she kept one on her—and snuck a picture of the moment. She noticed when she put it down that her child had caught her eye and smiled, their tiny hand extended out in a small, sleepy wave. 

She sat there for a moment, enjoying the moment, but decided to let them have their fun together. She stuffed the camera back in her pocket and climbed down, leaving the two in the treehouse to start preparing some lunch for when Jensen woke up. She thought of her childhood memories in the house, when Gunny and Patrick used to race each other around the house, and she’d time them, or when they’d go down to the small lake in the woods and splash around for a few hours. While Guinevere wasn’t there anymore and Patrick was busy with his own life, she still thought fondly of them and hoped her children would have the same memories of home. 

[evilspiritweek]

Hi! First of all, wanted to say that you are wonderful for still doing some little fun stuff for RC9GN fandom! I can't say how much I appreciate seeing the activity in the tag from you! Thank you.

Now, the reason I'm sending an ask, is I have a few suggestions/ideas that I wondered you might be interested to hear? If not, feel free to ignore this! ;D its totally cool.

You mentioned in the DTIYS post that you might be getting busy since the break is ending, and it got me thinking, maybe DTIYS could be extended for other artists? Like, if you are busy that week, or do not have an idea for DTIYS (or just dont feel like it, we all have those days lol), you can do a sort of 'feature artist for the week' to do a DTIYS drawing? I understand there might be a contacting/scheduling problem with that idea, but you can always just make a post/notice and see if anyone wanted to do this/next week DTIYS.

If you are worried about the complexity of the featured art, you can also make a list of requirement for DTIYS (like, only a single character, no/little background, props, themed and etc), so it would be relatively similar for everyone?

It also will give you an opportunity to participate in DTIYS too rather than just make it, if you wanted to! I kinda feel bad that you seem to do all the work, even if I know that you are doing it from love to this fandom haha.

Another idea I wanted to offer/discuss is the polls! I actually thought poll/episode bracket idea was a fun one, but i know its not the most favorite one. However, maybe it could be sorta implemented in DTIYS? Maybe a poll for a character/theme/episode-related idea for DTIYS people would want to see next week? It doesn't have to be constant polls every week, maybe just occasional if you do not feel particularly inspired that week, it could give you an idea?

I know that you started these new smaller events, because they were less stressful and urgent than prompt week/month, but still fun enough to engage with! If these ideas seems like too much worry/work, I totally get it.

Anyway, I wish you a good day! Thanks for reading.

(also ur art is ridiculously adorable ok bye)

Sorry for the delayed response!! You wrote a lot of good points and I wanted to make sure I addressed them all <3

The post was getting a bit long, so it's under cut. TL;DR I think I'm going to treat this year as a test run and then create a more formal one for next year! That will involve a Google Forum probably(?), but do note that one of the questions will be on a specific date. One problem I've found with events is the time they take place. Not planning on moving Ninjavember's month, but that for example is sandwiched between October/Inktober and December/Holidays/Finals, so it can get busy. Considering this is a new event, I want to give people in the fandom currently the freedom to kinda pick and choose when this might be done.

I think extending the DTIYS event idea to other artists is a great idea! I know that I started this rather suddenly without warning, so people weren't given a sooner notice, but if I do this again, I can perhaps create a forum for people to submit things to or have people submit things here. Nothing super formal (because organizing that might get messy), but that way it can feel a bit more like a community event :D

For this event, I'm kinda sort of just drawing by the week, so if anyone wants to submit stuff now, that's totally fine too! Worst case is we have more than 5 by the end of April, and that's definitely not a bad thing lol

As for complexity of DTIYS prompts, I wanted to keep it varied for fun, but I also think focusing on simple doodles is fine. At least then, it gives people more of chance to focus on their style first rather than figuring out how to draw a car or something (bane of my existence)

I also like your idea for polls, and perhaps if we do a more formal one for this next year, we can implement that.

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone. 

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden. 

Genocide, basically. 

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.  

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara. 

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD 

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart. 

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs! 

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable. 

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story. 

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.) 

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play. 

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR. 

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops. 

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+. 

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots. 

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.) 

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

[roguish-gallery]

Did you ever make that joker tier list, I always like seeing what people think of all the different ones. Though if they put Romero last I can no longer respect them.

LMAO I DID! I think I’ve made it kind of obvious in this blog but I... don’t... particularly... care... for... the joker.... unless he’s, y’know, fun to watch. Cause he’s a clown, and clowns are supposed to be entertaining. But since you politely brought it up, and and because I have a deep respect for mutual Romero-lovers, I guess this would be a good time to explain my rankings and just discuss my general thoughts on each clown:

General Thoughts:

For the most part, I don’t really care for the Joker. This is hardly an uncommon opinion here on tumblr, but I definitely fall on the side of the fandom that feels that he gets too much attention from DC. I get WHY they use him so often for films and comics, and I don’t have anything against *most* folks who consider them their favorite Batman villain, but at this point he’s used more for shock value and as a crutch instead of anything interesting. Like, instead of giving attention to the other Rogues, writers (at least for the comics) will try and make up some bullshit story that they can shoehorn the Joker into, ‘cause it sells. It’s tiring, and I feel like the character has lost his meaning; I can only read so many stories about the Joker, I don’t fucking know, wearing a suit made from dead babies and Jason Todd’s flayed corpse before I get sick of it.

I’m at the point where I’ll like any Joker who’s just fun to watch. I genuinely respect those who prefer darker interpretations of the character, but that isn’t me; I vastly prefer the lighthearted takes on him, because... at this point... writers who use the “cleaner” version of him tend to be more creative, since they actually have to write a Joker story that doesn’t rely on gore/torture porn.

TIER ONE:

Joker Baby: Self explanatory. Joker Baby is thematic, thoughtful, and intense. Everytime I watch this video, I shiver with fear and pleasure; something primal in me awakens whenever Joker Baby runs his fingers through his spray-on dyed hair, and ends up smearing green paint on his forehead- it represents the inner turmoil, the chaos, that resides within the disturbed body that is Joker Baby. Nothing can ever hope to top the artistic and cultural impact Joker Baby has had on society.

TIER TWO:

Batman Ninja: I genuinely believe that Batman Ninja is one of the most fun, organic, and creative things to come out from the Batman side of DC comics in like... hmmm... a decade, maybe (I could talk for hours about how much I love this movie but that’s something for a future post). This Joker is easily, and unironically my favorite interpretation of the character, period. I love his energy, his design, everything. This is the most fun I’ve ever had watching a Joker on-screen, and for that I’ve gotta give the film credit where it is due.

Batman ‘66: I looooove Caesar Romero. Batman ‘66 in general is one of my favorite pieces of Batman media, and I absolutely adore this Joker. The show is pure, genuine fun, and it’s nice to turn my brain off and watch a show where the entire cast was allowed to goof around. This Joker is just a cute, goofy little clown-man who likes to commit crimes, go surfing, turn Gotham’s water reserve into gelatin, and have wild orgies with Penguin, Catwoman, and the Riddler. I massively appreciate the hustle. I love his little mustache and his facial expressions. I’d give him a chaste little kiss on the cheek if I could.

The Batman: EXTREMELY CONTROVERSIAL TAKE BUT. I think TB!Joker is better than what people will give him credit for. I can only imagine how stressful it must have been to be the first Batman cartoon to follow BTAS and the writers for this show knew they were gonna be fucked no matter what they did with the Joker, so they just decided to try something completely different with him. Personally, I appreciate the new direction- he has a fun, unhinged energy. I’ve placed him higher than BTAS/BTNA!Joker simply because The Batman was the show that got me into the Rogues in the first place, and I’m just a bit closer to this Joker because of it. Also his vampire form was cool as FUCK in Batman Vs. Dracula and the scene where he gets drenched in blood at a blood bank is fucking awesome.

Batman the Animated Series/The New Adventures: Everyone loves BTAS’s Joker, and I’m no exception. Mark Hamill is fucking great, and the writers clearly knew the character well enough to create a version of him that can be fun and threatening. As an aside, I unironically like his redesign in BTNA- I remember Hamill mentioning somewhere that he thought it was neat that this Joker looked more like a shark (I’ll see if I can find a source on that... I think he said it in an interview with Kevin Smith?) and I kinda agree with him. the redesigns in the final season are hit or miss, but I didn’t get why so many people bitched about the Joker’s new look.

Batman Unlimited: Hear me out... Hear me out... Clown... funny... and cute... He wears a little crown and gives Solomon Grundy a little smooch on the cheek and it is as delightful as it sounds. Yes the Batman Unlimited films literally only exist to sell toys but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy them on some ironic level.

TIER THREE:

Lego Batman: He’s a gay icon. He has the range. Enough said.

White Knight: This is just a genuinely good, original take on the character, and the art in White Knight is absolutely gorgeous. 

Arkham: My friends and I joke that this Joker is basically a more unhinged version of BTAS! Joker and... yeah. I’m glad Hamill and Paul Dini got to fuck around with the character more, but I never really dwelled on the Joker parts of the games like I might have for other characters. I definitely liked him the most in Arkham Asylum, as he was more fun to watch. Arkham City was fiiiiine, but I think I replayed the game so much that I kinda got fatigued with everything about it. Genuinely hated his part in Origins, and I was pissed that he stole the attention from Black Mask and Bane (who’s the best fucking part of Origins IMO). I’ll admit that I... Haven’t... played... Knight yet (I have it on PC but my laptop is too wimpy to run it) but like... He’s dead at that point, so I’d assume he isn’t the main point of that game anyway. I love Mark Hamill and the fact I can personally beat the shit out of this Joker, so he’s ranked up pretty high for those reasons.

TIER FOUR:

Batman ‘89: TBH this Joker should be a rank higher, but I’m too lazy to hop onto PicsArt to change it. NIcholson was an excellent choice, and I apprecaite how this Joker makes use of the playful and unhinged aspects of the character. Also, his outfits are cute, and I love the museum scene.

Brave and the Bold: Technically this Joker SHOULD be ranked higher since he’s literally based on the more lighthearted comics in the 60′s but... ehhh... I haven’t really watched BATB so I don’t have any strong opinions on the show and how it handles the character. he’s ranked this high through beause I appreciate what they were going for.

Golden Age: The quality of comics are always subjective, based on the creative team behind them. Some I’ll like more, others less so, It’s kind of hard to rank the pre-52 comic version of the Joker because of this.

TIER FIVE:

Killing Joke: Read it, didn’t care for it. I acknowledge how massive the impact this comic had on... everything, but just because I recognize how important this graphic novel is, doesn’t mean I have to like it.

The Dark Knight: Ledger did an excellent job with the role, but uhh... I’m kind of sick of the alt-right chuds who are out there sucking this Joker’s dick. The fanbase definitely ruined the character for me.

TIER SIX:

99′: Eh

Endgame: No

Suicide Squad: NO

Death of the Family: Hate him. Despise him. Lame stupid dumb little edgy bitch.

Gotham (Jeremiah): I don’t particulary care for Gotham in general, but the only reason I ranked this Joker over Jerome is beause I thought it was kinda funny to see that they made him a little rat-man, and I liked watching all the fujoshi on here cry and complain that they can’t ship this version of the joker with the pre-pubescent Bruce Wayne in the show bc he’s too ugly.

Gotham (Jerome): stop shippping this freak (who is fucking eighteen years old) with a literal twelve year old child. what the FUCK is wrong with yall.

UNRANKED:

The Joker (2019): I don’t plan on watching this film, nor will I ever. I know this is ironic, coming from someone who runs a Rogue blog, but stuff that focuses primarily on a character’s deteriorating mental health makes me reaaaaallllllyyyyy anxious (it’s kind of a phobia) and considering that I don’t particularly the Joker, I have no reason to watch something I know will only give my dumb ADHD-ass intrusive throughts.

[cosmicbug379]

Ever Northward Gaze

Guys I made myself really sad with this one. Like so sad I cried writing it at 11 last night. It’s not my normal thing, but here we are. Also the title is actually from the book of Lord of the Rings! In the book, when Boromir dies, Aragorn and Legolas sing the Lament for Boromir and it’s really sad and I’ve been listening to the version on Youtube that Karliene did (she’s one of my favorite artists honeslty and she has some really good LotR and Game of Thrones stuff so definitely check her out, she’s amazing!) and I was being sad about it so here we are. It does not have a happy ending so be warned. Also, i picked some pieces from the book, and some from the movies and I combed through the timeline of the fellowship and looked up a lot of distances and stuff so the timeline and days is as accurate as I could make it and it’s literally only mentioned like 3 times so that’s fun. I also only tagged a couple people cuz I really honestly don’t know who even wants to read this. Okay sorry for the world’s longest Author’s Note.

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Boromir x reader

Words: 1496

Warnings: Major character death 

It had been months since you had last received a letter from Boromir, and you hated it. You understood why-the need for secrecy had been clear-but you still didn’t like it. The last letter he had sent was from Rivendell, he said he was joining a quest, a fellowship that was setting out to bring the One Ring to Mordor. You knew he left because Lord Elrond had sent word that it had been found, there had been a council called to Rivendell to discuss what to do with it. His father wanted him to bring it back to Gondor, so they could attempt to use it against Sauron, but the Ring was evil, it couldn’t be used against it’s master.

You missed Boromir terribly. He was supposed to come right back, instead it had been 241 days since he had left for Rivendell and 132 days since his last letter had arrived. He was only supposed to be gone a little over 100 days, and now it had been more than twice that since you had last seen your husband.

You had spent most of your time since Boromir’s departure in the Houses of Healing. Ioreth had taught you from a young age, and you quickly discovered you enjoyed it and you were good at it. Faramir always said you were the perfect balance to his brother. He was always the soldier, ready to fight; you always wanted to help people, heal them. 

When you weren’t in the Houses of Healing, you were in the rooms you usually shared with Boromir. You enjoyed painting, and you had a balcony that overlooked Pelennor Fields and you could just see Osgiliath in the distance. You also enjoyed singing, and Boromir insisted you had the voice of an angel, even when you told him he was wrong. You were writing a song for when he finally returned to you, but you were stuck. You had been on edge for over a week now, you weren’t sure why, but you had a bad feeling about something. Your sleep had been restless and your dreams troubled when you had them.

7 nights ago you had dreamt that you saw Boromir’s body in a small boat passing down the river Anduin. You were sobbing when you woke up, and stumbled your way to Faramir’s room. He said he had the same dream, and it made you even more uneasy. You were worried. A weight had come over you, you feared you would never see your husband again.

You sat in your room now, reading over his last letter again. The ink had started to fade and the edges were worn. You read his letters often, trying to remind yourself of him, but this was your favorite.

My darling wife,

It has been too long since I last saw you, and I fear it will be even longer still. I regret to tell you this will be my last letter for some time. I have volunteered to accompany a brave young hobbit in his quest to bring Isildur’s Bane to Mordor. I hope our path will bring us close to home and I will be able to see you, but I am not so sure. 

We are walking, it is best that way, horses will draw too much attention. It will be a long time before we pass into Gondor or anywhere close to the White City, but I will count the days until I can see you again. 

I miss you more than I can put into words, my love. I miss sleeping beside you and waking up with you in my arms. I miss your smile and the way your eyes shine when you do. I miss the sound of you singing to me, and I miss the sound of your laugh. I even miss the way you scold me when I distract you from your work. I cannot wait to hold you again, to kiss you again. You know me better than anyone, and I think you may even know me better than Faramir does. I miss you.

I must stop now, before someone walks by and sees me becoming a blubbering mess over a letter to my wife. Watch over Faramir, father is too hard on him. Don’t let him take anything my father says to heart. 

All my love,

Boromir

You weren’t sure when you had started crying, but a few tears dropped onto the fading words. It was a few moments later when you jumped, hearing the sound of a horn. The horn that signified someone was approaching the Citadel. Was Faramir back so soon?

You raced to the courtyard and saw a messenger there. He was carrying something wrapped in a cloth and he had a grim look on his face. The uneasiness you had been feeling for days crept up inside you, stronger than ever. The messenger looked at you and showed you what was wrapped in the cloth. The Horn of Gondor. Cloven in two. Boromir had taken that with him when he left for Rivendell. That means…

“I’m sorry, my lady,” the messenger said quietly.

You heard a scream of anguish, the saddest thing you had ever heard. It took you a moment to realize the sound had come from you. You weren’t sure how long you stayed there sobbing, but it was long enough that your handmaiden became worried. She and Ioreth found you and took you to your rooms, but you barely even noticed they were there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knew Gandalf had arrived in the city with a hobbit that day, and you waited outside the throne room while they spoke to Denethor. You had worn nothing but black for 6 days, since news of Boromir’s fate had reached Minas Tirith. You knew you should put on a finer dress to greet your guests, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wear anything else. All your dresses were ones Boromir had bought for you.

You looked up as Gandalf exited, followed by the halfling. He stopped when he saw you and gave you a look of sympathy. 

“My lady… I wish we were meeting again in happier times,” he said quietly.

“As do I, Mithrandir,” you replied. Turning to the halfling you spoke again, “I know Gandalf, but we have not met, what is your name?”

“Pippin, my lady. You are Boromir’s wife aren’t you?” 

“Yes, Boromir was my husband… I understand you are a friend of his,” you said, waving away Gandalf’s attempt to scold the hobbit.

“I like to think so... He spoke of you often. He loved you, and he was right, you are indeed beautiful, my lady,” Pippin blushed a little and looked down. 

“Thank you,” you hesitated. You weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer to your next question, but you had to ask. “How did he die?” 

Pippin looked at Gandalf, as if asking permission. With a nod from Gandalf he turned from you again. 

“He died defending me and my kinsman, Merry. We were north of here at Amon Hen, near the statues of the old kings. There were many Uruk-Hai and he fought bravely to save us. He was pierced by 3 arrows before he fell.” he said.

Your slowly cracking facade of composure finally broke. You tried not to openly sob, but you couldn’t stop the tears leaving your eyes. That sounded like your Boromir. Fighting to defend those who could not defend themselves.

“Thank you, Pippin,” you whispered. “For telling me. I am glad he was at least able to save you and your friend. I hope I get to meet Merry some day.” 

“I hope we will see him again too, my lady,” he answered. 

“Gandalf? Watch over this one. He is brave and he has a good heart. Boromir would be proud of him,” you said with a sad smile.

Gandalf squeezed your shoulder gently before leading Pippin away. You watched them go, trying to keep your tears at bay. Yes, you could see why Boromir loved this little hobbit. Even from the short conversation, you could see it. 

You wandered to your rooms again, telling your handmaiden not to disturb you unless absolutely necessary; you wanted to be alone. You went through your wardrobe, looking for one of the shirts Boromir had left behind. When you found one, you held it close to your face. You could still smell him on it, you didn’t want to think about when you would no longer be able to. 

You collapsed onto your bed, sobbing into the shirt, clutching it tightly to your chest. 

Boromir was gone, and he wouldn’t be able to come back to you now. You wouldn’t kiss him again, or hold him or fall asleep next to him. You wouldn’t have children that you would raise to be healers and warriors. You would be alone now for the rest of your days, with nothing but his memory.

Tags: @rzrcrst​ @longitud-de-onda​

[shprka]

SZPURKA'S FIC RECS 1 – HARTWIN EDITION

I’m starting my #CommentForChristmas bullshit with one of my oldest fandoms - the Kingsman fandom that I watched die after the second movie which I’m forever sad about because Kingsman: The Secret Service is my favourite movie. It was also the first fandom I was active in and the first fandom that made me realize fandoms can be a safe space and most of the people there were lovely and awesome and cool and because there Hartwin was the major ship there was little to no ship wars and hate on ships I could see in some of the major fandoms and I hated it and I hate it now, please we all like fanfics and fanarts and different ships, why must we fight all the time instead of encourage each other?

I hold the Hartwin ship and Kingsman fandom close to my heart and that’s why I started with this. They’re not all the fics from my bookmarks, because I honestly don’t remember some of them, because I read them so long ago, but there are some fics I hold close to my heart and after reading a lot of different fic and being in a lot of fandoms, I still love them deeply and I hope you can find something for yourself and made it read some of the stories I mention and give the authors some more love :D

The Spy who Loved Me (Or so they say) by ToriCeratops/54k/Explicit

In the wake of V-day the world’s economy hangs in a delicate balance, liable to crumble without warning. One man has the knowledge and the power necessary to send it tumbling down, so that only he remains on top.

The Kingsman have been tasked with stopping him before he can carry out his plan. In order to do so, Harry and Eggsy must act as lovers at an elite couple’s getaway to earn this man’s trust. Will they be able to carry out their mission as planned? Or will old wounds and buried emotions cause a havoc greater than anything they could have expected?

Lagavulin and Guinness by Snarfle/164k/ Explicit

Plenty of people had looked down on Eggsy throughout his life. He had gotten fairly used to it. Didn't mean it was fair, but he knew how these things worked. What really sucked was that the new Arthur was worse than the old one.

“Eggsy grimaced. He didn’t know how to explain to Harry – who seemed like he hadn’t been discriminated against a day in his life – that the new Arthur kept giving him what amounted to suicide missions, and that he was currently bleeding out in a warehouse because of the deliberately bad intel she had given him.”

Also featuring: Dean is harder to get rid of than Eggsy thought, his mum is going off the deep end, there are way too many nefarious plots in play, and Eggsy is really beginning to wish that Harry would stop holding his hand and kiss him instead.

The New Age by DivineProjectZero/3k/Teen

It starts with being cursed.

No, scratch that. It starts with a garden and a serpent. And no, it goes a little differently from what you’d think.

Welcome Home by AuthentiKait/4k/Mature

"Eggsy, I've come to take you home".

Warning: It's literally Eggsy dying of old age and then afterlife.

Inherent Violence (and again now, and now, and now) by laudatenium/11k/Explicit

He wants it, all of it. He wants to lock him away forever, keep his warmth and light secluded, reserved only for himself. He wants to posses Eggsy, to own him entirely.

But he can’t. He’s slaughtered men who do the same to others.

On occasion, he finds it funny how he is willing to excuse his own dark impulses, when he would destroy anyone who tried the same. But selective morality is a common feature of man’s.

The Beneficent Gentleman by mongoose_bite/35k/Mature

An act of heroism sees an unusual offer made to one Eggsy Unwin; if he can get accepted he can go to Oxford, all expenses paid. All he has to do in return is pass his classes, and keep his mysterious benefactor informed as to his educational progress via the old-fashioned medium of the handwritten letter.

An AU loosely based on Daddy Long-Legs.

My End and My Beginning by Cqueen/103k/Mature

Eggsy's mission is to go back in time, find his stupid target, and keep the barmy bastard from ruining his life and the world in general by turning the Kingsmen against him or harming Harry. And no one way he's failing Harry again this time, even if Harry is making it even harder on him then he'd expected.

And for the bloody record, Merlin, he really hadn't meant to pick Harry up at a bar neither. It just sort of happened.

Crap.

the mother of necessity by TheSilverQueen/22k/Teen

"How ironic is this?" Gazelle says softly to Eggsy. "I am Arthur’s sword, forged to protect humanity at all costs. You are Athur’s bane, born to destroy humanity at all costs. And yet here we are, fighting on opposite sides."

* * * * * *

An Arthurian reincarnation AU where Gazelle is Excalibur and decides that if two world wars aren't seen as a need great enough to summon her Once and Future King to save Britain, she's going to make a need great enough for Arthur to be reborn - through any means necessary. And so Excalibur draws herself from the stone and goes about doing exactly that.

magic in your fingertips by venvephe/103k/WIP/Explicit

Nearly all of them have left when Merlin ducks close to him, murmuring over the din of the remaining excited students, “Look; it’s your favorite Hufflepuff-Gryffindor do-gooders.”

Merlin says it with wry affection, and Harry glances over his shoulder to the stragglers still exiting the back of the train.

He spots Miss Morton right away, long blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail as always, robe pressed and immaculate - she’d grown taller over the summer, but is as graceful as ever as she hops the gap to the platform, joining her waiting friend. She rightens the sleeves of her robe and then smooths her hands across the young man’s shoulders, grinning as she tugs his robes into place, and he bats her hands away to fuss with the knot of his gold-and-black tie.

Harry’s eyebrows twitch together. “Is that-?” he starts, and pauses abruptly when the pair turns towards them and Harry fully sees the young man’s face.

It’s Eggsy Unwin.

Out of Left Field by VillaKulla/87k/Mature

“Now there was just one more thing,” Merlin said, addressing the sweaty, bedraggled, footballers clustered around him. “There’s been a change of ref.”

Eggsy and the rest of the UK Kingsmen looked at their coach expectantly and he raised his eyebrows.

"Harry Hart."

(Football/Soccer AU)

Eggsy Unwin Body Language Analysis by TurtleNovas/38k/Gen

A meta taking an in depth look at Eggsy's body language throughout the entire film (specifically in relation to the characters of Harry, Roxy, Merlin, JB, Arthur, Dean, Gazelle, and Valentine), using gifs I made as reference points. Very heavily saturated with Hartwin (which is why I tagged it in the Hartwin tag).

Through Time bycoloursflyaway/163k/Explicit

A chronic of Harry’s and Eggsy’s love, following them from their first meeting to the last time they set eyes on each other, through shots in the head and falling in love and finally getting their shit together.

GO GIVE YOUR FAVOURITE AUTHORS AND ARTISTS SOME LOVE THIS CHRISTMAS!!!

You don’t have to post your comments on tumblr like I did or tag me or anything. Just comment on fics you enjoyed on ao3. Or artists on tumblr or tweeter. Or do a fic recs like I did. Or private message someone. Artists and authors need words of encouragment like everyone else. And seeing as christmas can be a sad and preasuring time for some, please send them some love!

[rhosyn-du]

Title: A Wonderful Institution Artist: @bidnezz​ Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, various background pairings Word Count: ~53k Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, discrimination against Downworlders, reference to rape, Clave-typical homophobia, implied character death, minor character death Summary: Magnus doesn’t have time for this bullshit. Warlocks are disappearing in New York City—five people in less than three months—and Magnus is determined to find them and protect the rest of his people from whatever took them. He doesn’t have time for politics, and he certainly doesn’t have time for whatever nonsense the Clave is proposing about marrying a Shadowhunter to a Downworlder as part of the new Accords. He doesn’t really have time for a pretty Shadowhunter who’s surprisingly kind to warlock children, either, but, well, he’s always been good at multitasking.

Alec always knew he couldn’t have what he wanted, but he’s spent the nearly four years since the newly-appointed Consul recalled his parents to Idris without explanation making the best of what he can have. When life suddenly offers up almost everything Alec actually wants on a silver platter, he can’t quite bring himself to trust it, especially when it comes with a million caveats and a side of impending disaster. But he knows how to handle disasters, even if the return of the Circle on top of Clave secrets that could destroy the Accords is way beyond the disasters he’s used to fielding. Hope, on the other hand? He doesn’t know what to do with that.

This fic was created for the @malecdiscordserver​​ Mini Bang 2020.

Chapter One

Magnus should have taken it as a sign when, instead of sending the information he asked for, the Spiral Council insisted upon an in-person meeting. He should, at the very least, have rescheduled cocktail night, but he wasn’t about to let politics or the headache that had been building behind his eyes all day interfere with standing traditions. If nothing else, he desperately needed someone to drink with.

“How is it,” Catarina asked as she slid into their usual booth, “that I just finished a ten-hour shift at the hospital, and you still look more worn out than I do?”

Magnus shook his head, raising his glass. “Drink first, my dear. Then talk. This is not a conversation anyone wants to have sober.”

“Cheers, then,” Catarina said, lifting her glass. “No Raphael tonight?”

“He’s overseeing the integration of a new fledgling. Ragnor also sent his regrets.”

“Ragnor has sent his regrets every week since 2003,” Catarina muttered into her cosmopolitan.

“And will continue to do so for years to come, I’m sure,” Magnus said.

“We’ll see about that. Come here.” Catarina motioned for Magnus to join her on her side of the booth.

Confused, Magnus joined her. “What are we—? Are we taking a selfie?”

“We,” she answered, smiling up at her phone, “are showing Ragnor how much fun we’re having without him, so he’ll be jealous and forced to show up for cocktail night sometime this decade.”

Magnus held up his drink, toasting the camera as Catarina snapped a photo, then frowned. “Since when does Ragnor have a smart phone?” he asked, watching Catarina tap out a text. “Or any kind of phone, for that matter.”

“Last month, I think?” she answered. “Raphael got it for him. Said texting was more convenient than fire messages, but honestly I think he just likes to give Ragnor a hard time about being such a Luddite.”

“But now I can’t tease him about still being stuck in the nineteenth century,” Magnus complained. “Also, how do you have his number and I don’t?”

“I’m guessing the same reason you look like you haven’t slept in the past month. You’ve been a little hard to get a hold of recently.”

Magnus made a noise of grumpy agreement.

“You want to talk about it?” Catarina asked.

“Why don’t you tell me about your week first?” Magnus suggested. “I’m still not ready to think about mine.”

Magnus was on his third bourbon on the rocks when Catarina finally got him talking about his own day and the disastrous meeting with the Spiral Council.

“Five warlocks missing in less than three months, and they brushed it aside like it’s nothing,” Magnus told her. “They called me there like they actually had information, but no, just ‘we haven’t heard anything, we’ll keep an ear out’ and then straight into this absolute nonsense with the Clave.” He drained the last of his glass and conjured another, too worked up to bother walking over to the bar to order. “As if it’s not suspicious enough that they want to renew the Accords years earlier than scheduled, as if marrying a Downworlder to a Shadowhunter as part of the terms isn’t among the most terrible ideas in the Clave’s grand library of terrible ideas.”

“Let me guess,” Catarina said. “They want you to be a part of the negotiations?”

“Oh, no,” Magnus said, waving his glass in a way that would, in anyone else’s hand, have sent the drink sloshing over the sides. “If they wanted that, it would be annoying enough, but they actually had the gall to suggest I should put my name in for consideration as the Downworld representative in this disaster-in-the-making political marriage.”

Catarina made a strangled noise that might have been outrage but might also have just been choking on her drink. “They actually…” She shook her head. “The Spiral Council wants you to marry a Shadowhunter? And they think this will prevent war with the Clave?”

Magnus shook his head. “No, no, they don’t actually want me to marry anyone. They just want my name on the list. Something about how much it would mean to have such a visible sign of my support. Which they will not get, because, as I explained to them repeatedly and at great length, I do not support any of this. And that’s not even getting into my lack of confidence in their assurances that I wouldn’t be chosen.”

“They’re probably right about that,” Catarina told him. “Rumor is the Clave is putting forward one of the Lightwood children, and I can’t imagine a world where Maryse and Robert Lightwood would allow one of their offspring to marry you.”

“Somehow, the council failed to mention that part.” Probably because they knew how Magnus would react. This lunacy was bad enough without the Clave deciding the child of two former Circle members, one of whom was rumored to be the Consul’s personal enforcer, was the best person to make a political alliance with the Downworld. “That’s a bullet I’m more than happy to have dodged.”

“What, you don’t see yourself having a mad, passionate romance with a Lightwood?” Catarina teased.

Magnus wrinkled his nose in distaste. “As amusing as it would be to see the look on Maryse Lightwood’s face if I did, no. I would rather marry a Ravener demon.” He took a long pull of his whiskey. “I would rather marry Lorenzo Rey.” He drained his glass, setting it down on the table with a resounding thump. “I would rather see acid wash jeans as the height of fashion for the next three and a half centuries.”

“Only three and a half?” Catarina laughed. “Not four?”

“Even a Lightwood couldn’t be that bad,” Magnus told her. “Another round?”

“That’s all for me. I’ve got another shift in the ER tomorrow, and the last thing I need is a hangover to go with it. I’m happy to keep you company, though. Seems like you could use it.”

“Your company is very much appreciated, as always,” Magnus said. “I’ll just—”

Magnus’s train of thought as well as his sentence were effectively derailed by the arrival of a fire message. He plucked it from the air with a frown that only deepened as he read.

“It looks like that’s the last drink for me, as well,” Magnus said, gathering his coat from the seat beside him.

“Anything I can help with?” Catarina asked, nodding toward the paper in Magnus’s hand.

“I’ll certainly take it if you’re offering,” Magnus answered slowly. “This could be very bad.” He couldn’t, after all, think of any good reason Iris Rouse would be calling him for help.

“Alec, you aren’t listening to me.”

Alec took a deep, calming breath, focusing on fastening the buckles of his thigh holster rather than how very done he was having this conversation for the hundredth time.

“I am listening, Iz,” he said, sliding the last buckle into place. “I just still disagree with you. And since this is my life and not yours, my opinion is the one that matters.”

Izzy grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her. “This can’t actually be what you want. If Mom and Dad are pressuring you into this—”

Alec snorted. “Trust me, Mom and Dad aren’t pressuring me into anything.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. They weren’t pressuring him into this, not really. His mother made her disapproval quite clear, for all that she’d also said this marriage was necessary for the updated Accords.

Izzy’s eyes told him she wasn’t convinced. “I know Mom has said some things about how you should be looking for a wife,” she said.

“I’m pretty sure Mother meant I should marry a nice Shadowhunter girl,” Alec said. “Come on, Iz, do you really see our parents pressuring me into marrying a Downworlder? Even for the Accords?”

“Then why?” Her hand on his arm was a gentle pressure now, cajoling rather than demanding. “You keep saying this is your decision, but you won’t tell me why you’re making it.”

Alec sighed. This wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, not even with Izzy, but it was clear she wasn’t going to let it drop until he did. “Because someone needs to do it, and I at least won’t resent it.”

“Are you sure about that, big brother?” Izzy’s eyes were intent on his, and Alec both loved and hated how she could always see his deepest doubts and fears, even when he’d pushed them down so far he could almost forget them himself. “You deserve to be happy, Alec. You deserve to fall in love with someone who loves you just as much. And I think that’s what you want, too.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he said, shaking off her hand. “This is what I’ve chosen.” This was what he could have. At least in an explicitly political marriage to a Downworlder, no one would expect him to act like he was in love with his wife or ask questions if they didn’t have children.

If he were very lucky, maybe his future wife would be open to adoption.

“But you can still make a different choice!” Izzy insisted.

“Isabelle,” he said. “Drop it.” 

Izzy opened her mouth to speak again, but Alec cut her off. “Come on, we’ve got a mission.”

He stalked out of the room before Izzy could say anything else, but her irritated huff of breath as she followed him to the ops center told Alec she wasn’t anywhere near as done with the conversation as he was.

They picked up the trail of Ravener demons just east of Prospect Park. Signs indicated maybe six or seven in the pack, which was worrisome since the original sighting was of more than twice that number.

“I can trace the trail back, see if it splits,” Jace suggested. “You guys follow this one and I’ll catch up with you.”

“All right,” Alec said after a moment’s hesitation, “but if it does split, call the Institute and have them send another team, then catch up with me and Iz. Do not go after the other group on your own.”

“Obviously,” Jace said, completely at odds with the hint of a smirk that told Alec that was exactly what he’d been planning to do.

Alec just barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

A quarter mile on, the trail split again, and Alec nodded to Izzy, indicating he’d follow left and she should follow right. He didn’t bother telling his sister to be careful. She might not always be exactly prudent, but she was very good at gauging what she could and couldn’t handle in a fight and had significantly better self-preservation instincts than Alec’s parabatai.

Alec made it another three blocks before he caught sight of one of the demons, darting from behind a dumpster to slink down a dark alleyway. Activating his night vision rune, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and turned down the alleyway after the demon.

There was no movement in the alley, no sound to be heard over the ambient noise of the surrounding streets. Alec scanned each dumpster that lined the alley, each pile of debris, searching for the place the Raveners had to be hiding. Ravener demons were fast, but not fast enough to make it to the far end of the alley so quickly.

A small sound drew Alec’s attention. It wasn’t the scuffling he expected, but instead something that sounded almost like a tiny, muffled sob. He focused on the area it came from, arrow nocked and ready.

It took Alec a few seconds to really register what he was seeing, sticking out from behind a pile of broken-down boxes. The toe of a small shoe. As he watched, the shoe retreated behind the boxes.

Alec lowered his bow as he moved toward the pile of boxes. Not all the way, because there was still a Ravener around here somewhere, but enough that he could approach without pointing it directly at the hiding child.

He debated speaking, which might put the child more at ease, but could also attract the attention of the Ravener, and any of its buddies that might be hanging around. He didn’t know who the demons were hunting, either. With so many at once, it was almost certain they’d been summoned by a warlock to track and probably capture or kill someone, and Alec couldn’t begin to imagine why someone would go to that kind of trouble for a kid, so they probably weren’t the target, but he didn’t want to take the chance that he was wrong, especially since the kid was clearly hiding from something.

Splitting the difference between the two options, Alec dropped to a crouch when he drew even with the pile of boxes and spoke in a soft voice.

“Hi there.”

He waited a beat, and when no reply seemed forthcoming, continued. “You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to, but this isn’t a safe place to be right now.”

Still, nothing.

“Okay, well, if you don’t want to come out, is it okay if I come back there with you for a minute? I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Again, silence. Alec waited.

After at least a full minute of silence, Alec heard movement behind the pile of boxes, and suddenly he was faced with a terrified-looking little girl. She looked to be maybe six or seven years old, if Alec had to guess, and even though fear was evident in her eyes and posture, she met Alec’s eyes without flinching and there were tiny blue flames flickering across the fingers of one small hand.

Alec forced himself to keep a relaxed posture, even as he kept alert for any sign of the Ravener demon. It was just barely possible that the Raveners were after a warlock child, although Alec still couldn’t imagine who would send a pack that size after a kid, even a warlock kid.

“That’s a good hiding place,” he said conversationally. “I almost didn’t notice you.”

The girl regarded him with somber eyes.

“Can I walk you back home to make sure you get there safely?” he asked.

This time, she shook her head emphatically, but the flames around her fingers died, which Alec took as a good sign.

“Okay,” he said. “We can stay here for a while if you want, but I need you to promise that if anything happens, you’ll get behind me, okay? There are some scary things out here, and you don’t have to face them by yourself.”

The girl cocked her head to the side, considering, then nodded.

“Cool gills,” Alec commented, nodding at the girl’s neck. That got him a tiny, shy smile. “I’m Alec.”

The girl chewed her bottom lip, then said softly, “I’m Madzie.”

Before Alec could respond, a Ravener sprang from the shadows of a nearby dumpster, heading straight toward them. In one smooth move, Alec turned on his knee, placing himself squarely between the girl and the demon, and let an arrow fly.

He didn’t bother to watch the arrow find its mark—he knew it would—already turning to loose another arrow at one of the two demons approaching from the other direction. The second demon was too close to use his bow by that time, so Alec pulled his seraph blade from the sheath along his thigh and rose from his crouch to drive the blade straight into the demon’s chest. He felt a faint, sharp pain in his knee, probably a rock or piece of broken glass he’d kneeled on. He’d deal with it later.

A sound from the mouth of the alley had Alec spinning again, seraph blade abandoned in favor of his bow once again. He had an arrow nocked and ready before he properly registered what he was seeing. The man standing in front of him, watching him with open curiosity and something else that made Alec’s breath catch in his throat, was most definitely not a Ravener demon.

The door to Iris Rouse’s home stood open several inches when Magnus and Catarina stepped out of the portal on her front stoop. It hadn't been broken down or torn from its hinges or apparently forced open in any way, which Magnus might have considered a good sign under different circumstances. Given the recent disappearances, however, the door hanging peacefully ajar seemed ominous.

The two warlocks entered cautiously, but the house was eerily silent and apparently empty, with nothing to indicate that even a struggle had taken place. It was an all too familiar scene.

Magnus swore softly. It wasn't just a missing warlock this time, though. There was also the matter of Iris's message. Please, you have to save the children.

“We’ll need to search the house,” he told Catarina. “Not that I expect to find more here than I have anywhere else.”

“You never know,” she said. “Today could be your lucky day.”

“Seems unlikely, given how the day has gone so far.”

They decided to search top to bottom, and both agreed that splitting up would be a terrible idea. The first two rooms yielded nothing, exactly as Magnus expected. The third door, however, gave the first sign of something out of place. For one thing, it held two sets of bunk beds and a crib, plus a number of stuffed animals and a toy box tucked away in a corner. For another, the window stood open wide, white lace curtains fluttering in the breeze.

Catarina looked over the room, eyebrows raised. “Did you know anything about Iris raising kids?”

Magnus shook his head. “I haven’t spoken to Iris Rouse in over two centuries. I knew she was living in Brooklyn, obviously, but we were never exactly friendly, and we’ve been happy to keep right on avoiding each other. I guess this does give some context for her message, though.”

Catarina made a noise of agreement, kneeling to examine a stuffed rabbit that lay on the floor.

Magnus turned to look out the window, where a tree branch bobbed lazily in the wind. It wasn’t sturdy enough to hold his weight, but he thought it just might have been sturdy enough for someone smaller to grab a hold of and shimmy down, if they were determined enough.

“I think—”

A faint sound caught Magnus’s attention, causing him to pause mid-sentence. Catarina nodded, and gestured toward the closet. She’d heard it, too.

Magnus made a motion for Catarina to stay behind him as he approached the closet door. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he used his magic to fling the closet open, but it definitely was not the mundane woman who launched herself at him, teeth bared and fists flying.

Magnus stepped back, raising a hand to restrain her with magic. For a moment, the house was still and silent again. Then, the silence was broken by the unmistakable wail of an infant.

“You can’t take him,” the woman snarled, struggling against her magical bonds. “I won’t let you.”

It was a ridiculous thing for her to say. A mundane woman—barely more than a girl, Magnus realized, now that he was really looking at her—didn’t have a chance against two warlocks. But there was no doubt in Magnus’s mind that she meant what she said. If he and Catarina tried to take the baby nestled among the blankets at the bottom of the closet, this woman would do everything in her power to stop them.

“We’re not here to take anyone,” Magnus said in his most soothing voice.

“We’re friends of Iris’s,” Catarina added. Not exactly true, but close enough. “I’m Catarina, and this is Magnus. We’re here to help.”

The woman still looked suspicious, but when neither of them made any move toward the closet, she stopped fighting the bonds. Magnus released her as soon as she looked like she wasn’t in danger of trying to commit violence upon him. She immediately ran to the closet and scooped the infant up in her arms.

“I’m Leigh,” the woman told them, rocking the baby as its cries subsided. “They took Iris, and the children, too. I hid Noah, and I think Madzie might have gotten away, but I don’t know. There were just so many of them.”

“Who did?” Magnus asked. “Who took Iris and the children?”

Leigh frowned, her face going slightly vacant. “I don’t know. There were so many of them. They weren’t there, and then suddenly they were, but…” She looked at him, face all confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Which, of course, it wouldn’t, to a mundane. Except this mundane was apparently living with a warlock. Or at least babysitting for one. So, when the kidnappers dropped the glamor that kept them hidden, it seemed to her that they appeared out of nowhere.

Magnus had been paying more attention to Leigh than to the child, listening to her confused explanation, but he caught Catarina’s pointed look at him, then at the baby in the woman’s arms. She, at least, had been paying attention to the child.

Magnus glanced at the infant. At first, he didn’t see it, but then the baby blinked, and a second set of eyelids, like those of a raptor, closed across its eyes. The infant was a warlock.

“You’ve been through something very traumatic,” Catarina said, slipping into the voice Magnus had heard her use with patients. “It’s normal to be confused. Why don’t you sit down for a minute?”

“I…” Leigh still looked dazed. “Yes, thank you.”

“You said the people who came here took Iris and the children,” Magnus said. “What can you tell us about the children? It could help us locate them.” Not that he had high hopes, if they were warlocks like the baby. He hadn’t been able to track a single warlock who had disappeared. He couldn’t even sense their magic, which meant they were most likely dead, although no bodies had turned up.

“Madzie is the oldest,” Leigh said. “She went out the window when those things—” She stopped, shaking her head. “When the people broke in, and we saw them grab Dierdre and Indra. They must have broken in. I wanted to go, too, but I didn’t think the tree could hold my weight, and anyway I couldn’t climb down with Noah, and I couldn’t leave him.” Her voice was climbing, becoming more panicked.

“So, you took him and hid in the closet,” Magnus finished for her. “It was a good plan. You said Madzie escaped out the window?” he asked, latching on to the one piece of information that might be useful. If a child had escaped, there was still a chance he might be able to find her.

Leigh nodded. “I heard them come into the room after. I thought for sure they were going to find us, but they never came near the closet. I heard them follow Madzie out the window.” She frowned. “Except, that doesn’t make sense, either. Because an adult shouldn’t be able to climb down that tree, so maybe…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Adult humans, no. But demons? There were plenty of demons small enough to climb down that tree. Hell, there were plenty of demons that could scale the side of the building, and several varieties that could fly.

“Can you show me something of Madzie’s?” Magnus asked. If he had something of the girl’s, if he wasn’t too late, he could track her. He might even be able to find her before the demons did. Or at least find the demons.

“Something of— Why?”

“Something familiar to comfort her when we find her,” Catarina lied smoothly.

“Oh,” Leigh said. “Oh, of course. There,” she said, pointing to the stuffed rabbit Catarina had noticed earlier. “That’s Mr. Flopsy. He’s Madzie’s favorite.”

“Thank you, dear,” Magnus said, grabbing the stuffed toy. He looked at Catarina. “I’m going to look for the girl. As soon as she’s recovered enough, take them back to the loft. They’ll be safe there while we figure out what’s going on.”

“We’ll see you there,” Catarina answered. Then, when Magnus hesitated, “We’ll be fine. Go.”

Magnus had no trouble at all picking up Madzie’s trail, which was on the one hand convenient, but on the other hand meant the demons probably weren’t having much trouble tracking her, either. The one solely good piece of news was that Magnus was able to recognize the girl’s magic from the residue on the toy, and he could still feel its echo out somewhere in the city. If the demons chasing Madzie had found her, at least they hadn’t killed her, yet.

It didn’t take him long to pick up the trail of the Ravener demons following Madzie, either. A warlock had scrubbed all sense of their presence from Iris’s house, but the trail popped up clear as day at the end of the block. Which suggested that whoever was controlling these demons hadn’t gone with them after the girl. They must have gone with Iris and the other children, wherever they’d taken them.

The trail led him half a mile east of Prospect Park before he heard the distinctive growl of a Ravener about to attack. Magnus ran toward the alleyway from where the sound had come, magic ready at his fingertips, only to stop dead in his tracks when he rounded the corner just in time to watch a Shadowhunter neatly dispatch three Ravener demons in rapid succession.

The man’s movements were fluid and efficient, arrows hitting their marks dead on before taking down the final demon with a seraph blade in a move that looked almost effortless even as his forearms flexed in a way that Magnus couldn’t help but appreciate. More impressive than the man’s skill at taking down demons, though, was the way he did so all while keeping himself between the threat he faced and the young girl behind him. The young warlock girl.

Shadowhunters were pledged to protect the world from demons, and even the most repugnant ones Magnus had the misfortune of meeting seemed to take that job seriously, but he’d met precious few who would put forth even the slightest effort to protect a warlock, not even from a demon.

Then the Shadowhunter was turning to face him, and Magnus found himself struck once again, because the man was stunning, with bright hazel eyes, full lips, and a jawline that could cut glass. He also had an arrow trained straight at Magnus’s heart.

Magnus searched frantically for something to say. Something witty and flirtatious, perhaps. Or something dignified and professional, as would befit the High Warlock of Brooklyn under such circumstances. Or just something that would reassure the Shadowhunter that Magnus wasn’t a threat.

What actually came out of his mouth was, “Who are you?”

For the briefest instant, Magnus thought he could see the hint of a bewildered smile on the Shadowhunter’s lips, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” the Shadowhunter countered. Then his eyes flickered to something behind Magnus, and Magnus whirled around to face a truly staggering number of Ravener demons pouring into the mouth of the alley just as an arrow flew past his shoulder to hit one of the demons in the chest.

“Kill demons now, introductions later?” Magnus suggested, tossing a ball of fire at the closest demon.

“Sounds like a plan,” the Shadowhunter agreed. “Stay behind me,” he instructed the little girl. “Keep your back to the wall.”

They fought surprisingly well together for two people who hadn’t even known each other long enough to exchange names. Without discussing it, Magnus handled the demons who managed to get into close range of their little group, while the Shadowhunter took down those further back.

“You know,” Magnus said as he watched another demon burn to a satisfying crisp, “normally I’d ask what a guy like you is doing in a place like this, but I get the feeling you might just be a killing demons in dark alleys kind of guy.”

“Not as many dark alleys as you might expect,” the Shadowhunter said. “And usually not this many demons at once.”

“Or with quite such charming company?” Magnus suggested. Only two left. “Because I certainly don’t.”

“Well, you’ve done a pretty decent job of proving you’re not the one who summoned the demons, at least.”

The Shadowhunter’s arrow hit one of the remaining two demons just as his own flames took down the other.

Magnus gave the Shadowhunter a sidelong glance. “Glad to know being in mortal peril helped with my credibility.”

Magnus turned to face the little girl, who was clinging to the leg of the Shadowhunter’s pants and crouched down to her level. She shrunk back from him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he unglamored his eyes. “Hi, my name is Magnus. Are you Madzie?”

The girl eyed him warily, then nodded once.

“Iris called me for help when the demons attacked your house, but I didn’t get there before you left. I’m sorry I wasn’t faster.” He pulled the stuffed rabbit out of his coat. “Leigh said you’d want Mr. Flopsy when I found you.”

The girl grabbed Mr. Flopsy and watched him shyly. “You know Nana?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Can you take me to her?”

“I’m sorry, sweet pea,” Magnus said, “but I don’t know where your nana is right now. I’m going to do everything I can to find her, though. And I can take you where Leigh and Noah are now if you want. My friend Catarina is taking care of them.”

Madzie looked at him for a long moment, then up at the Shadowhunter. “Are you coming?”

The Shadowhunter’s face showed a flicker of surprise before melting into a soft smile. “Yeah, I can come. I just need to let the rest of my team know where I’m going.” He glanced at Magnus, still smiling, and oh, Magnus was in trouble. “Where am I going?”

“My loft,” Magnus answered, too aware of the answering smile he had absolutely no control over. “In Brooklyn Heights. I’m Magnus, by the way.”

“Alec,” the Shadowhunter answered, his smile widening and making him somehow even more stunning. “I’m gonna,” he gestured over his shoulder awkwardly, eyes never leaving Magnus’s.

“Right,” Magnus said. “Call your team.” Finally, when it was nearly over, his day was starting to look like it just might make up for a little of the shitshow it had been.

“Yeah,” Alec said. And then his legs buckled beneath him.

Acting on instinct, Magnus reached out to steady him. Alec fell against his side, unable to get his feet back under him, and Magnus very intentionally pushed the way Alec’s back muscles felt beneath his hand to the back of his mind with a mental note to revisit that later, preferably not in the middle of a crisis.

“Sorry,” Alec muttered. “Sorry, I can’t—”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Magnus told him. “Are you injured?”

“Left knee,” Alec said, wincing. “Thought I cut it on some glass. Just need to—” He pulled out a stele and activated his iratze.

Nothing happened.

“I’m going to wager a guess,” Magnus said, leading Alec to lean against the nearest wall, “that it was not glass. Let me take a look.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Alec protested. “I just need to get back to the Institute.”

“Nonsense,” Magnus waved him off. “I’m right here, and it’s less effort to just heal whatever is wrong with you than portal you back to the Institute.” Probably. Maybe. “Besides, I owe you for rescuing Madzie.”

Alec’s voice was sharp when he answered, “You don’t owe me for that. She needed help and I was here. And it’s my job,” he added, an obvious afterthought.

“Then,” Magnus said, crouching down to examine Alec’s knee, “consider this my way of saying thank you.”

It didn’t take him long to find it: a small wound just beneath Alec’s thigh holster. Madzie crowded in beside him, and he let her look, hoping the small size of the wound would ease her fears that Alec was seriously hurt.

“Demon venom,” Magnus concluded. “Not much or you wouldn’t still be conscious, but it’s been in your system too long for your iratze to help. I’ve got a potion that will take care of it back at the loft.”

It was a testament to how badly the venom was affecting him that Alec just nodded instead of arguing. Or maybe he really did take Magnus’s line about a thank you at face value. Either way, he let Magnus put an arm around him and help him off the wall.

Magnus was about to open a portal when two more Shadowhunters dashed into the alley.

“Alec!” the dark-haired woman cried, rushing toward them.

“‘M fine, Iz,” Alec mumbled, very clearly not fine. “I’ve got everything under control,” he explained, before promptly passing out on Magnus’s shoulder.

[timelesshonesttrailer]

The bane of many writers is that once you have birthed a story, taken the time to write, erase, rewrite, edit, scream at, and finally accept the words that you have written… you have to name it. 

Like people, or businesses, the name is everything. It’s one of the first things people see. It’s what they will use to communicate the story to others. So picking a good title is vital, which makes it all the more daunting. But like most things in life, once you break it down and examine its parts, see how it works, it becomes a lot less scary and a lot more manageable.

This is how I got pretty good at making titles, not only for my own works, but for others. And I want to share with you what I learned, and hopefully make the task of titling your stories a lot less terrifying.

To create a good title, you have to focus on two things: Structure and Meaning.

Structure

Quick, think of all your favorite books, shows, and movies. Now think of popular franchises that are household names. What do they have in common, title wise? They are short and to the point.

On average, these titles are one to two words long. This does not include articles or connecting words like “the,” “of,” “or,” etc, because they pretty much disappear.

The titles also average few syllables, about two or three. You don’t really want to go above four. English is a very lazy language and we like to keep things short. This is why a lot of titles get shortened anyway.

Examples of Titles (remember, articles/connectors don’t count):

Friends – One word, one syllable.

Cheers – One word, one syllable.

Lost – One word, one syllable.

Dune – One word, one syllable.

Timeless – One word, two syllables.

ER – One word, two syllables.

Twilight – One word, two syllables. Can refer to the entire series.

The Mummy (1999) – One word, three syllables.

The Simpsons – One word, three syllables.

Parasite – One word, three syllables.

Titanic – One word, three syllables.

Hamilton – One word, three syllables.

The X-Files – One word, three syllables. Though it’s debatable if X-Files is one word or two.

CSI – One word (standing in for three), three syllables (standing in for seven).

Star Wars – Two words, two syllables.

Good Omens – Two words, three syllables.

Game of Thrones – Two words, three syllables. Often verbally shortened to Thrones.

Lord of the Rings – Two words, four syllables.

I can keep going, but you see the trend.

But what about titles like the Harry Potter books? The answer is in the question. Each book/movie title starts with Harry Potter and then has a modifier. Harry Potter itself is only two words and four syllables. Then if someone talks about a specific novel, they typically would not say the whole title, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, they would simply say Azkaban. The same is done in other series. Percy Jackson for example.

There are, of course, exceptions.

Elementary is a one word, but five syllables. It’s also a very common phrase in both the genre and in everyday life. Use of common phrases is a way to get around the above formula because we’re already used to saying them, thinking them, etc. One Day at a Time is another good example. Three words, five syllables, but doesn’t feel any longer than Lord of the Rings. 

But the longer the title, the more likely it will somehow get shortened. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep was changed to three syllable Blade Runner. My favorite book, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, has a very long title. Technically it’s three words when you remove articles/connectors, but the syllable count is a whopping ten. It gets away with it because for one, it’s a rift on an already common phrase, and two, fans can call it Hitchhiker’s Guide which is only four syllables. 

Now, once you know the structure of a title, you can work on choosing one.

Meaning

The title of your story has to give the reader an idea about what they’re getting into. It does this by focusing on one of the following:

A literal Person/Place/Thing –  Percy Jackson, Cheers, The X-Files

The Subject Matter – Friends, Law & Order, The Sixth Sense, CSI

The Genre – Twilight, Star Wars, Friday the 13th, Altered Carbon

The Overall Metaphor/Concept – Game of Thrones, Parasite, Pride and Prejudice

Many of these cross over. The Sixth Sense and CSI could also be considered a literal thing as well as a genre marker. If your title fulfills more than one slot, that is neat, but not a necessity. You might feel like you have to come up with some complex title, but sometimes it’s really just as simple as it’s a show about friends and their relationships with each other.

Take the title Catch-22. The term Catch-22 is a major metaphor and concept that is universally known today. But when Joseph Heller wrote Catch-22, no one called that concept a Catch-22. The title was simply naming the military rule (a thing), which created the situation and therefore drove the narrative. People later co-opted the title to quickly express the concept that the book so masterfully discusses.

Whatever you chose, the title should match the feel of the story you’re trying to tell. It’s part of your promise to the reader, and must make sense by the time they get to the end of the story.  

But how to pick a title when you have persons, places, things, subject matter, genre, and metaphors in your story? You simply work backwards. Ask yourself what your story is really about.

What is the driving force of the narrative?

What do you want your readers to get out of the story?

Is it a story about a person?

Or about the people of a specific group?

Is the story a one-shot or the beginning of a trilogy/series?

Is there a specific name or line of text that sums up your story neatly?

Somewhere in the answers to those questions is your title.

Now, I can make guesses on how some of the above mentioned titles came to be. Cheers takes place in the bar of the same name, and it’s about the patrons of said bar, so it’s the story about a place named Cheers. But I can’t speak for the creators and what thought processes they might have went through in order to choose their titles. So, instead, I am going to give you some of the titles I have come up with and explain how I got there.

Copper and Gold Two words, four syllables. Genre: Urban Fantasy This is the first book of a series based around a singular character, Minni Masterson, whose motif is copper, which plays a large role in the story. Since it’s a series, I need a title that could be formulaic across each one. In the first novel, the “guest character” is a gold dragon (Aiden Drake). So when I say Copper and Gold, I’m really saying Minni and Drake. And in the second book, when I say Copper and Cobalt, I am saying Minni and the Kobolds. Copper and Mercury is Minni and the Werewolves. Etc.

Emperor’s Shadow Two words, five syllables. Genre: Star Wars fan fiction/Mystery/Character Study The story is about Mara Jade who was an Emperor’s Hand. It’s about her coming to terms with the shadow that looms over her from her past and what Palpatine did to her. Instead of going with something much bulkier like In the Shadow of the Empire, I merged her past (Emperor’s Hand) with her current conflict.

The Serpent and the Liar Two words, seven syllables. (This format of “The X and the X” is one that is an exception to the rule, so long as the syllables belonging to X remain low) Genre: Marvel!Loki fan fiction/Pre-Movies Canon Compliant The story is about Loki and the events leading up to the first Thor movie. It also brings in Sigyn to explore that ship, along with some Norse myths, and to explain why she isn’t in the movie. Loki, of course, is known for his serpent motif and as the god of lies. I play on this, giving Sigyn a serpent motif, something to match her with Loki. But on several occasions, I raise the question of who is actually the serpent, and who is the liar? Because the best way to lie, is to tell the truth. So, like Copper and Gold, I’m really just calling the story Loki and Sigyn, I mean, Sigyn and Loki?

Amehrana One word, four syllables. Genre: Timeless Food Truck AU/Garcy Slow Burn The story is about Flynn and Lucy, and the rest of the team, in an AU setting. I named Flynn’s food truck Amehrana because it’s a mix of the word American and Hrana, which is Croatian for food. So the title is both a thing (the food truck) but also another word for Flynn and Lucy because he’s Croat and she’s American. But unlike Copper and Gold and The Serpent and the Liar, there is the added symbolism here of Flynn and Lucy coming together.

Frankenstein’s Monster Two words, five syllables Genre: Timeless Mission Fic for Proposed Season 3 (non-movie compliant) The mission is Mary Shelley, but that doesn’t mean there *has* to be a Frankenstein reference. But you have Flynn who thinks he’s a monster, one created by Rittenhouse. I also go deeper and hint at Lucy herself being a Frankenstein Monster, i.e. created by Rittenhouse for a purpose she doesn’t want any part of. Once again, my title is basically just another name for my main characters.

I want to interject for a moment and point out that we all have our preferences in our writing styles, and titles are no different. If you realized you tend to do most of your titles a specific way, then own it. It’s part of what makes you unique as an artist. And if you occasionally decide you want to go a completely opposite direction for one story, then go for it.

Case in point.

No Accounting for Heroes Three words, seven syllables Genre: Canon Compliant account of the Fall of SHIELD and its aftermath This fic really takes a hard look at what happens to those living in a world with superheroes. The main character, an accountant named Rani, is giving an account of events. My cowriter suggested putting “accounting” in the title which made me think of the common phrase, “no accounting for taste,” which is a concept about how different people like/need different things, and applied it to the story. No Accounting for Heroes means that we all need a hero, but maybe not the heroes we think we do, and we can all be heroes in some way, to someone in need. But also, there is that underlying current that heroes are not held accountable for the destruction that follows in their wake. 

Never be afraid to ask for help with titles. And don’t be afraid to reject titles if they don’t fit. And definitely don’t be afraid to take the suggestion, turn it over, season it, put it in a waffle iron, and see if what comes out is edible.

I have helped others name their stories, and here are three examples:

Remember, Remember Two words, six syllables. Genre: Timeless Garcy Canon Divergent/Angst/Mission Fic The story is about Lucy trying to save Flynn after he goes back to 2012. Emma saves him instead. Eventually Lucy runs into him and she discovers he doesn’t remember her and only knows what Emma has told him. At the end of the story, they have a final confrontation during the Gunpowder Plot. When the author asked my thoughts on a title, well, the Gunpowder Plot has the very famous saying “Remember, Remember, the 5th of November” and the whole story is Lucy trying to get Flynn to remember…

Disavowed One word, three syllables. Genre: Timeless Luciana Canon Divergent/Angst In this Twitter story, Flynn is blocked from returning to the US from Canada because they still think he’s a terrorist. Basically, his own country, whom he helped save, rejected him. When asked for a title, I focused on the idea that this story is about Flynn being rejected/denied entry/etc. I basically flipped through synonyms for rejected until I came across disavowed which is a term often used in spy craft. It’s a heavy word which paired well with the angst of the story.

Only Our Stories Three words, five syllables. Genre: Timeless Movie Canon Compliant-adjacent/Angst/Mission Fic The phrase “only our stories” is said in the fic itself. Future-Lucy writes it down towards the beginning, once she’s returned from dropping off the journal post-Chinatown. All that she has left of Flynn is only their stories, which she writes in the journal. She is eventually able to change things to get Flynn back, but he doesn’t remember her. There is still a connection though… their stories.

Never be afraid to take a line from your story to use as your title, so long as you follow the structure guidelines from the first section. 

At the end of the day, coming up with titles is just as much a skill as any other part of writing. We suck at first, then we figure out what's good, what's bad, and look at the world around us to figure out how to make it better. And don’t be afraid to edit it as much as you edit your novel. Until you publish, no title is set in stone, so it doesn’t have be right the first time.

And now here is where I close out this reference guide by saying something inspirational. Instead, I’m going to name this piece. While I wrote it, the temp file name was “Creating a Title” which is technically accurate but has no umph or style. This guide is meant to be helpful so the title should inspire confidence that I know what I’m talking about. But I don’t want it to sound too clinical either. 

A synonym for “name” is designation which I like but too many syllables because I’ll have to add to it. Synonym’s for “title” don’t give me much either. Instead, I should focus on the concept of the guide rather than its direct contents. Using something like “What’s in a Name?” would be too cliché. “I Suck at Titles” is funny, at first, with it being the exact opposite, but my genre is more educational than satire.

Wait, if I’m not going to reveal the title until the end, as a way to show you the thought process in creating a title, then to the reader, the title both does and doesn’t exist at the same time. It’s what you might call a…

Schrodinger’s Title: A Guide to Naming

[hopesilverheart]

Title: I loved your colours (before I loved you) Artist: @calliartss​ Rating: Explicit (Chapter 10 only) Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood & Clary Fray, Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood Word Count: ~95k Summary: Magnus Bane is a journalist who's always dreamed of modelling for Lightwood Fashions. When the CEO Alec Lightwood starts looking for new models for their spring collection, he jumps on the occasion.

In the meantime, Alec Lightwood is struggling with the idea of finally announcing his role as co-designer. When Magnus Bane strolls into his life, Alec is torn between keeping his secret or throwing all caution to the wind.

This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020.

Chapter 8: Falling

“I’m still half-convinced that we’re leaving in an alternate dream reality.”

Alec snorted and glanced over at Clary from where he was laying on his bed, sorting through different coloured fabrics, trying to find the perfect one for the collection’s final and most important pieces.

After having spent four days holed up in their offices. Alec had forcefully dragged Clary back to his apartment and put together an emergency meeting. By which he meant that he had raided his local store for all the best chocolate chip cookie mixes, baked up a storm, and was planning on coaxing his best friend into telling him about the date he knew she had gone on.

“Why’s that?” He asked her when he realised she wasn’t going to expand on her dream reality explanation. “I mean, I get that we’re sort of living the perfect life at the moment; this collection is clearly going to be the best one we’ve ever created, our team is thriving, I’m dating an amazing model and journalist who seems to care about me as much as I do him, and even you’ve finally gotten your love life figured out. But I highly doubt that we’re in an alternate reality. I think this is just… The good after years of mediocre.”

“You may have a point,” Clary said thoughtfully, holding one of Alec’s dresses up in front of her and tilting her head to the side, considering. “Damn, why didn’t we make this one a part of the winter collection? I’m sure it would have suited Isabelle wonderf- Hold on, what do you mean, I have my love life figured out? What do you know about my love life?”

Alec raised his eyebrows at his best friend disbelievingly. Less than a week ago, he had talked Clary through a minor crisis when the redhead had told him about meeting up with Isabelle and not being sure if it was just a work thing or more, and now she was asking him what he knew about her love life?

It didn’t take a genius to realise that Clary and Izzy had both been happier than ever over the last few days, smiling at everyone and treating the team with more respect than they had in a very long time. The fact that they hadn’t argued with each other at all hadn’t escaped Alec’s notice either – it hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice – and the only thing he was waiting for was confirmation that his two favourite women in the world had finally figured things out.

“Are you really going to play dumb right now?” Alec sighed when Clary only crossed her arms over her chest, staying stubbornly silent. “Clary, you went out with her last week and haven’t said anything about it since. I know you told me it was a work thing or a project or whatever, but we both know you were hoping for more. So… Is it more? Is that why you’ve been so happy all week?”

Usually, Alec didn’t like to push when it came to all things Clary&Izzy related, because those two could be worse than a group of middle schoolers when they got particularly bad, but… He wanted his best friend to date the woman she had loved for years. He wanted Clary to tell him all about her relationship with Isabelle, the same way he told her everything about his relationship with Magnus.

God, he just wanted to know she was doing good. And he couldn’t know that unless she told him, because Clary’s word was the only thing he trusted when it came to his best friend’s well-being.

“I was hoping you’d forget about that,” Clary winced, blushing lightly as she let go of the dress and spun around so she was facing Alec. Noticing the serious look in her eyes, Alec sat up and straightened his back, trying to show her that she had his undivided attention. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. I know you’ve been rooting for Isabelle and I from day one, but there’s a good chance our first real date won’t go well and then I’ll have told you all about it for nothing, and I- I don’t want to put you in an awkward position.”

“Ah,” Alec hummed understandingly, hauling himself off his bed and pulling his best friend into one of his rare – but apparently extremely comforting – hugs. “Red, you’re allowed to get your hopes up. You��re allowed to want this and be afraid of this and wonder if you’re doing the right thing. What you’re not allowed to do is hide your feelings for my benefit. No matter what happens between Izzy and you, you’ll never put me in an awkward position.”

“I won’t?” Clary frowned, leaning back so they were staring at each other head on. “I just always thought…”

“You thought I’d feel obligated to side with Izzy if things went wrong between the two of you?” Alec chuckled, shaking his head at his foolish best friend. “Clary, Izzy is my sister. I’ll always love her, no matter what she does, but she’s not you. If something happens between the two of you, I’ll always choose you, Red, alright?”

“You are such a sap, Lightwood,” Clary laughed softly, rolling her eyes at him and shoving him back towards the bed. “But I appreciate the sentiment. And for the record, I would choose you too.”

“Well yeah, it’s not like you’re particularly close to Magnus, no matter how much the two of you have talked over the past few weeks,” Alec pointed out.

“Oh my god, you giant idiot,” Clary smacked him over the head, leaning down to pick another dress up before turning back towards Alec’s mirror. “I mean that I would choose you if something happened between Isabelle and you, not between you and Magnus.”

Knowing that Clary wouldn’t be able to see him, Alec smiled softly and blushed at his best friend’s words. A part of him had known, of course, that Clary would choose him over his sister if things came down to that, but it was always nice to get confirmation from the source herself.

For years, it had just been Clary and Alec. They had been best friends for almost ten years now and, although they’d both had a few relationships here and there, it had always been them first and everything else second. Part of Alec had worried that once they found the people they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with, they would lose the bond they had shared for so long.

He should have known it was a stupid fear.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice your attempt at distraction, by the way,” he grinned after a few minutes of peaceful silence, interrupted only by the crinkles of fabric and Clary’s thoughtful hums as she combed through all the outfits they had designed and rejected for the fall and winter collections. “The date, Clarissa. How did it go?”

“It wasn’t technically a date,” Clary mumbled, but Alec could see her smile reflected in the mirror, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she cracked and told him everything. And indeed… “Alright, fine, it was almost a date. There was a bit of a tense moment when we both mentioned the fact that we didn’t just want it to be a work thing, but we figured it out pretty quickly.”

“Good for you!” Alec exclaimed, beaming at his best friend. “I’m assuming you have a first date planned sometime soon, then?”

“Yeah,” Clary smiled shyly, swaying slightly as she stared at the lavender dress in her hands. “Yeah, we do. I told her I would plan something for tomorrow, so I got us reservations at a nice restaurant after work. She told me she would be there and that she couldn’t wait to see me again, so… Good news?”

“Great news!” Alec corrected, only refraining from standing up and spinning his best friend around because he knew she didn’t want to make a big deal out of her feelings for Izzy.

They had always been a bit of a complicated pair, but Alec couldn’t think of two people that were as perfect for each other as they were. They fit together in a way Alec didn’t quite know how to explain, and he knew that once they got past the few issues they had accumulated after years of thinly-veiled antagonism, they would be just fine.

Maybe it had taken them a while to where they were now, but at least they knew they were meant for each other. At least they knew they could fight and fight and fight some more, and always come out stronger on the other side. At least they didn’t have to worry about getting to know each other’s little quirks, since they had already picked each other apart until there was nothing left to dissect.

“I can’t believe we’re both dating people we actually like,” Clary smiled, leaning against the mirror and staring at Alec, her gaze dripping with happiness. “Two years ago, we both thought our love lives were over and that we were going to have to marry each other in order to stay sane. And now look at us.”

“Yeah,” Alec nodded slowly. “Look at us indeed. Hey, do you think… Do you think it’s possible to know whether someone is our soulmate after only knowing them for say… a month and a half? Hypothetically, of course.”

“Of course,” Clary said seriously, winking at him conspiratorially less than a second later. “I mean, I’m not sure I’m the best person to be asking about this, since I don’t really believe in soulmates, but… sure, why not? There are some people in the world who are meant to be connected, kind of like we are. If you meet someone and feel like they’re it for you, then don’t think about it too much. Live your life to the fullest, give them all the love you have to share, and make sure they know how much you value them.”

“And if he doesn’t feel the same way?” Alec asked quietly, giving up on the false pretences and biting down on his bottom lip nervously. “What if I fall for him, what if I’ve already started falling for him, and he breaks my heart?”

“Then I’ll tear that journalist to pieces and make sure your mom fires the hell out of him in less than thirty minutes,” Clary said fiercely, kneeling in front of Alec’s bed and cradling his face in her small hands. The gesture shouldn’t have been so reassuring, but Alec had never felt safer than when Clary held him like he was worth the world to her. “You’re an amazing person, Alec, and Magnus would be an idiot not to realise that. And no matter what happens, you’ll always have me.”

“I know,” Alec beamed at his best friend, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before raising a judgemental eyebrow at the shirt in her hands. “We should have burned that, seriously. How… How did that even make it out of our sketchbook? How on earth did we convince Helen to sew that?”

“God, I have no idea,” Clary giggled, throwing the blue top aside and sighing happily. “She must really trust us. Or she knew we wouldn’t stop harassing her until she gave us what she wanted, so she gave in and produced… that.”

“Sounds about right,” Alec chuckled, his heart fluttering happily as he gazed at the mound of clothes on his floor. “We’ve really made it, haven’t we? We’re not two lost college kids anymore, we’re actual designers who have their shit figured out and are going to create the best collection this company has ever seen.”

“Hell yeah we are,” Clary whooped. “The fashion world isn’t going to know what hit them. And hey, maybe you’ll even think more on that thing we talked about a while ago. You know it would make a lot of people happy, and I think it would even make you happy, no matter how scared you are.”

She didn’t have to mention his identity reveal for him to know what she was talking about. It was a topic they rarely discussed, since Alec had made it very clear that he would only show his face to the world once he was ready to deal with the fallout. Not that he thought things would go horribly; he just… needed to be ready.

However, just as they had started working on the spring collection and had realised that it would probably be the biggest and best thing they had ever made, Clary had tentatively suggested that it could be the perfect time for him to announce his position as co-designer. She hadn’t pressured him, hadn’t made him feel like he had to do anything, but the idea had been put out there and he hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind.

After all, she had a point.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he admitted, fidgeting with his sheets anxiously. “And I mean really thinking. I guess when we started this whole thing, I didn’t even think I would still be a designer by the end of the first year. I thought people would recognise your talent and not care about the guy who helped you with colour theory, and here we are now, and… I know I should tell the world eventually. I know this isn’t something I can keep a secret forever, because I’d really rather not deal with a leak once we accidentally tell someone who isn’t completely trustworthy.”

“So you want to do it?” Clary asked him, sounding like she was swallowing back her hopefulness and excitement and joy.

If Alec hadn’t already decided to do something during the spring collection fashion show, he certainly would have after seeing how eager his partner in crime was to share him with the world.

“Yes, Red, I want to do it,” he sighed heavily as his best friend squealed loudly, cheered, and jumped on top of him, sending them sprawling on top of his bed. “But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. We need to make sure the people at the show won’t attack me or bombard me with questions, and we need to make sure the uninformed members of the fashion team are told at least a week before the event.”

“Oh, true,” Clary grimaced. “Good thinking, Lightwood. Now, do you want to talk about this now, or did you have something else in mind? Don’t think I didn’t notice all the cookies you baked earlier, and don’t even try to blame this on my date with Isabelle. Something’s going on with Magnus and you, and as much as I want to quiz you on the fashion show, I have a feeling your relationship issues are a lot more urgent.”

“There are no relationship issues,” Alec scoffed. “Magnus and I are doing great, taking things slow, going with the flow…”

“Oh my god, you sound pathetically desperate,” Clary snickered, patting his shoulder comfortingly. “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t kissed Isabelle either. But if you really want to move things along with Magnus, you could always just… talk to him about it? I’m sure he’s just as eager to get his hands on you as you are.”

“Yeah, well, I thought maybe we could talk about it this evening, but we’re taking his goddaughter out with us, so it’s probably not the best time to talk about our relationship in great detail,” Alec pouted, although he was still screaming joyfully on the inside at the thought of Magnus introducing him to his family. “I’m hoping we’ll be able to go back to my house afterwards and have a serious conversation.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Clary nodded, looking vaguely impressed. “But don’t think I didn’t notice that you kept this a secret from me, Lightwood. His goddaughter, seriously?! Isn’t that a big deal?”

“Maybe?” Alec shrugged, trying his best not to look as worried as he felt. “He loves her a lot, and I know he’s very important to her too, so I need to make the best first impression. And if I’m meeting the infamous Madzie, I’m probably also going to run into her mother, who happens to be Magnus’ best friend and sister in all but blood.”

“Ah, you’re meeting his Clary,” the redhead hummed. “Don’t worry about it too much; my first impression of Magnus was a job interview, and my second was a slightly disastrous conversation, so you can’t get much worse than that. Besides, his best friend would be a fool not to love you. You’re awesome, Alec.”

“Such glowing praise,” Alec snorted. “But thank you, Red. Now, are you going to get rid of some of these outfits so I can get ready, or are you going to abandon me in favour of my cookies?”

“See, I would love to stay and help,” Clary started, slinking off the bed and slowly backing towards Alec’s living room. “Seriously, I’d love to help you clean everything up, but those cookies have been calling me for hours. Also, we just had a really taxing conversation about my relationship with Isabelle, so I could really use the mental support.”

“You’re the worst!” Alec called out, but Clary was already gone, cackling wildly at his predicament.

He sighed heavily, glaring at the pile of clothes, but set to work without wasting any more time than they already had thanks to Clary’s impromptu closet-shopping spree. As much as he would have loved to track his best friend down and make her deal with her own messes, he had a date to get ready for, and a goddaughter to impress.

He couldn’t afford to be anything less than perfect.

***

Catarina Loss was an intimidating woman.

Alec wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from Magnus’ best friend, but maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised to find out that she was a bold, independent woman who seemed to care for Magnus fiercely and love her daughter even more than that.

“Madzie means the world to me, Mister Lightwood,” she told him as soon as the introductions had been taken care of. “She’s my light and, although I trust Magnus with her life, I don’t know you well enough for that. But just so you know, I won’t hesitate to ruin you if you hurt her. I’m trusting the both of you with her welfare for the night, which means you’re just as responsible for her as Magnus is.”

Alec hoped the panicked glance he sent his boyfriend’s way was enough to summarise the utter terror he felt at the thought of being responsible for someone as small as Madzie.

He had always loved kids, and he knew he wasn’t bad at taking care of them, but there was a huge different between babysitting his brother when his parents had been too busy and entertaining his boyfriend’s goddaughter on the night they were supposed to be out on a date.

 “I promise I’ll try my best to keep her safe,” Alec said as confidently as he could muster. “And please, feel free to call me Alec. I hear enough of the Mister Lightwood nonsense when I’m at work. Besides, friends should call each other by their first name, right?”

Oh god, he was pathetic. Was there any way he could have made his nervousness more obvious than that? He was all but begging the woman to be his friend, and he was pretty sure Isabelle would have been shaking his head at him exasperatedly if she were around.

“Alright, Alec,” Catarina said, a small smile twitching at her lips. “And take care of Magnus too, okay? I know he’s been working harder than ever to keep on top of both the media and the fashion team, so he deserves a relaxing evening out. And remember, I need Madzie back at the apartment by nine, or she’s going to get cranky and absolutely ruin children for you.”

“’m not cranky,” the seven-year-old pouted from her spot besides Magnus. “I just get tired.”

“Yes, sweetie, I know,” Catarina chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her daughter’s head before turning her serious stare back on Alec and Magnus. “Remember, I want her back healthy and happy. And please try not to scar her for life with whatever is going on with your relationship right now. She’s a child and really doesn’t need to see two grown men making out in front of her.”

“Cat!”

“We’re not- I mean- We-”

“Oh, I know what you have and haven’t done, Alec,” Catarina grinned mischievously, winking at her best friend when Magnus let out a low groan. “Now, have fun, I have to get back to work. If I’m not home by the time you get there, feel free to put her to bed. You still have my spare set of keys, right?” Magnus nodded, and the woman clapped her hands together once, ruffling her daughter’s hair one last time before turning back towards the hospital. “Have fun!”

She was gone less than a minute later, and Alec finally felt like he could breathe again. He hadn’t realised how stressed her presence had made him until she was gone, and he didn’t know whether to be embarrassed that Magnus was around to witness his slight meltdown, or just relieved that he had survived his first encounter with his boyfriend’s best friend.

“That could have gone better,” Magnus sighed, taking Madzie’s hand and gently steering the three of them towards his car. “I’m sorry, Catarina can be a little intense sometimes, especially when it comes to the people I date. I’ve had a few bad experiences and she just wants to make sure none of them happen again, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Alec breathed out, thinking about his own rocky relationship history. “Yeah, I get it. And don’t worry, I think it could have gone a lot worse than that, and I’ll have plenty of time to woo your friends in the future. Besides, I already have Raphael on my side, so I’m sure I’ll manage to worm my way into their hearts sooner rather than later.”

Magnus stared at him strangely for a second, and Alec cursed himself internally for his presumptuousness. They hadn’t even kissed yet, and there he was talking about their future together and merging their friends into one big friend group. He had really forgotten what dating was like over the past few years.

“Right,” he chuckled awkwardly, clearing his throat and turning to look at Madzie, whom Magnus had deposited in the back of his car. The little girl had barely spoken two words to Alec since he had met her, but she also didn’t look terrified or angry, so he would count it as a win. “So, Madzie, what would you like to do this afternoon?”

“Can we go to the aqua-”

“The aquarium?” Magnus cut her off, his voice bordering on a whine. Alec had to bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing at his boyfriend’s put-upon frown. “Madzie, we go to the aquarium every time I have a day off. Why don’t we try something new this time? I’m sure the last thing Alec wants to do is spend his afternoon at an aquarium he’s probably been to dozens of time before. We could got to the park, or to a museum, or to that bookstore your mom told me about…”

The journalist sent a pleading look in Alec’s direction and, as much as Alec wanted to please Madzie, he wanted to please Magnus even more. If his boyfriend didn’t want to go to the aquarium, then they wouldn’t go to the aquarium. Luckily for Madzie, though, Alec was a master of compromise.

“Hey Madzie, what would you say if I told you I knew a place with hundreds of fishes that’s even better than the aquarium?” Alec asked innocently, smirking when Madzie immediately took the bait and lit up excitedly.

“You know a place that’s even cooler than the aquarium?” The little girl gaped. “Do you like fish too? Is that why you know all about the best places in the city? Because mom says a lot of people don’t like fish as much as I do, which is stupid because fish are the best animal in the whole world.”

“Ah, well, can’t argue with that,” Alec chuckled. “But yes, I do know a place like that. Tell me, Madzie, how do you feel about the sea?”

Magnus’ eyes widened comically as he shook his head at Alec, but Madzie was already bouncing up and down in her seat, babbling about the time when Catarina had taken her to a beach after teaching her how to swim. Alec dutifully listened to her ramble as he put a new address into Magnus’ GPS, winking at his boyfriend when the man glared at him mutinously.

“She’s never going to want to leave,” Magnus groaned quietly as Madzie sang along to the Little Mermaid CD Alec had unearthed from underneath the passenger seat. “And then she’s going to beg Catarina to take her back, and I’m going to get yelled at repeatedly for taking her to the sea. You can’t just take fish-obsessed little girls to the sea, Alec!”

“I don’t know,” Alec shrugged, grinning unrepentantly. “She looks pretty happy to me, and I seem to remember Catarina telling us to keep her happy. However, if you’d rather just go to the aquarium and admire all the beautiful sea creatures over there…”

“Don’t you dare,” Magnus growled. “God, I should have known you would hit it off with my goddaughter and proceed to make my life a living hell. You’re lucky the two of you are cute, Alexander, because I would have thrown you out of the car otherwise.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” Alec snorted. “But either way, it’s too late to go to the aquarium now. I’m quite certain Madzie would never forgive us if we didn’t take her to the sea. And look, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be. We’re going to have a great time on the pier, we’ll walk for a while, give her some ice cream, buy a light dinner, and then take her back home before her bedtime. And after that…”

He cut himself off with a shrug, but he knew Magnus had caught his meaning even without hearing him say the words out loud. The man nodded slowly, sighed as he looked at his ecstatic goddaughter in the rear view mirror, and pressed down on the accelerator, sending them zooming towards the sea.

They made it to the pier in record time and, despite Magnus’ worry over the whole thing, Alec thought their evening turned out rather perfectly. Madzie rattled off facts about fish and was perfectly content to stare at the sea for minutes on end, trying to catch a glimpse of some sort of living creature. She had ice cream and couldn’t stop running around for a solid hour, but she calmed down before dinner and didn’t throw a tantrum when Alec announced it was time for them to go home.

Or at least, he thought she hadn’t thrown a tantrum.

“But I forgot my cardigan,” she cried loudly as soon as Magnus tried to nudge her towards the car. “I can’t go home without my cardigan, so we can’t go home at all!”

It was fine. They found the cardigan in less than ten minutes, since they had only forgotten it on a bench nearby, and then they were ready to go. Alec climbed into the car, watched as Magnus gently pushed Madzie in the vehicle’s direction, and then…

“I lost my bracelet!” Madzie wailed.

It took Magnus and Alec less than a second to understand what was going on, and Alec couldn’t say that he necessarily appreciated Magnus’ ‘I told you so’ glance. Nonetheless, they both set off to find Madzie’s bracelet, and ended up having to replace it when it became obvious that the object had been well and truly lost.

By the time they got back to the car, forty minutes had passed since they had first tried to get Madzie home. Magnus looked like he was seconds away from smashing his head against the steering wheel, and Madzie was becoming crankier by the second. Overall, not the nice end to the evening Alec had had in mind.

However, never let it be said that Alec Lightwood was a quitter, especially not when it came to things he cared about – in this case, Magnus Bane and his mostly adorable goddaughter. They were both obviously annoyed at each other, and maybe even a little bit at Alec, but it didn’t matter. Alec had the best recipe for cheering people up, and he didn’t need anything other than himself and a somewhat-attentive audience.

There was a good chance he would regret his actions later, once Magnus and he were alone, but he really couldn’t find it in himself to care quite yet. Right now, the only person he needed to impress was Madzie.

So, without further ado, Alec sang the opening line to ‘Under the Sea’, trying his best not to blush at Magnus’ surprised stare. Isabelle was a great singer, just like their dad, but Alec hadn’t inherited that particular gene. He couldn’t sing if his life depended on it, he knew that, but he also knew that bad singing didn’t matter to kids.

They wanted entertainment, something fun that they were familiar with, and Alec could provide her with just that. They had already listened to the CD on the way there, so he knew putting it back on wouldn’t result in much, but a live rendition of Ariel’s songs? It caught Madzie’s attention in less than thirty seconds, and the little girl was giggling madly by the time Alec finished his first song.

He had messed up more than half the lyrics, had changed key at least three times, and was pretty sure he couldn’t get redder if he tried, but Magnus and Madzie were both grinning at him, laughing at his lack of talent, and that was more than enough for him.

He got through six different Disney songs before they finally reached the apartment and was glad he had settled on a soft rendition of ‘A dream is a wish your heart makes’ at the end. Madzie had fallen asleep two thirds of the way through the song, and all Magnus had to do was lift her up gently and carry her up the stairs, no bedtime story needed.

Alec watched from the girl’s doorway as Magnus tucked her in and kissed her forehead lightly, his heart swelling with happiness and a familiar feeling he was trying his best to ignore – for now, at least.

“You really are good with children,” Magnus murmured a few minutes later, once they had dug out the wine glasses and a nice bottle of Chardonnay and had sprawled themselves out on Catarina’s couch. “I thought Raphael might have been making things up, but you handled her like a pro. I still think taking her to the pier was a risky idea, but I suppose she did have fun, so I can’t complain too much.”

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t like it as well,” Alec rolled his eyes, pointing at Magnus accusingly. “I saw you sit next her to stare at the water whilst I went to get her ice cream, and you seemed to be having a wonderful time.”

“Yeah, well…” Magnus said sheepishly. “I always have a wonderful time when she’s around, and an even better time when you’re there, so this was really all win for me. You could have taken me to a college lecture and I would have probably been satisfied.”

“That’s just sad,” Alec snickered. “I mean, really? A college lecture? I can’t think of a single place I hate more than those damned lecture halls. And don’t even try to make me believe you had an amazing college experience and loved every second of it, because we both know that would be a lie.”

“I did have an amazing college experience,” Magnus scoffed, his eyes alight with mirth and happiness. “But I suppose my lectures had very little to do with that, in the grand scheme of things. At the end of the day, it had nothing to do with the place, and everything to do with the people, if you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Alec breathed out, staring straight at Magnus. “Yeah, I do know what you mean.”

Magnus’ breath hitched, and it took Alec all of his self-control not to kiss the man right there and then. He knew his boyfriend wouldn’t object, knew they had already been taking things ridiculously slowly compared to most couples their age, but he just wasn’t sure if this was the right time for their first kiss. Could they really do something like that with Madzie less than ten feet away from them?

“Alexander, please stop thinking so much,” Magnus whispered, leaning in towards Alec and letting his gaze drop to Alec’s lips pointedly. “There is no perfect time, so please just kiss me already.”

And who was Alec to refuse such a tempting offer?

He kissed Magnus the way he had been dreaming of doing ever since the two of them had started dating. He cupped the other man’s face, let his fingers caress Magnus’ cheeks, and pressed their lips together softly, then softly again, and then not softly at all.

He had forgotten how good it felt to kiss another person. He had forgotten how warm the feeling was, how easy it was to nip at his boyfriend’s bottom lip until his mouth parted slightly. He had forgotten how heady the feeling of his tongue sliding against someone else’s could be, and he gulped in the taste of Magnus greedily as he acquainted himself with the man’s mouth and body.

He didn’t kiss him like a starving man, but it was a damned near thing. The only reason he wasn’t already straddling Magnus was because he was painfully aware of the little girl sleeping in the bedroom behind them. If Madzie hadn’t been there, Alec was pretty sure he and Magnus would have done a lot more than kiss, if only to make up for how slowly they had been taking things until then.

When they pulled away, though, Alec couldn’t regret his actions or how long it had taken them to get there at all. Magnus looked utterly debauched, and absolutely delighted, and Alec couldn’t help but smile into their next kiss, feeling unreasonably fond of his boyfriend.

And as Magnus grinned against him too, rendering their kiss mostly useless, Alec realised it would be all too easy to fall in love with Magnus Bane.

(He realised he was halfway there already.)

[romansleftshoulderpad]

Chapter Five - Origins

The Echo in the Mirror

Words: 2,503

Ship: None

Warnings: Alcohol mention, mentions of underage drinking (no-one gets drunk), Body mutation, panic attack, sex jokes

Tags: @fandermom @patchworkofstars @poisonedapples @hogwarts-my-love @opaque-puppet @omni-hamiltrash @darling-elm @jynxlovesluck @madly-handsome​ @strickenwithclairvoyance​ @limitededitionsanderssidesblog​ @ab-artist​ @sometimeswritingsometimesdying  @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2​ @because-were-fam-ily @gattonero17​ @analogical-mess​ @joaniejustwokeup​ @whycantihavemorethan32characters​

---

If there was one thing the Dormir cousins were famous for, it was parties. So, it was no surprise that Remy’s Halloween party was one of the biggest events of the year. It was also very exclusive, you had to know the right people to get in. Any regular student would have dropped everything for a chance to go. Anyone except for Logan Hamilton, who had barely spoken to Roman or Virgil in days.

It was Wednesday, October 30th and the lunch bell had just rung. “You can’t keep ignoring me forever, Logan,” Virgil said. Logan only walked away, giving him a silent message. “That’s a very rude hand gesture!” he yelled.

Virgil sighed, falling against the wall as Logan walked away. He felt a hand on his shoulder and didn’t even bother to look up. He already knew there was a fifty percent chance of it being Roman (and the other fifty percent chance of it being Remy). “He’ll be back eventually,” Roman said. “We just need to talk to him.”

“I’m trying but he’s impossible to talk to when he’s angry. We’ve really fucked up.”

“Maybe we can get Patton to talk to him.”

Virgil laughed. “You think he’d listen to Patton?”

“What’s wrong with Patton?”

“Nothing,” Virgil said. “To us.”

“To us?”

“You’re pretty oblivious, Princey.”

“Oblivious,” Roman repeated. “Are you saying Logan has a crush on me and therefore won’t talk to Patton?”

Virgil pulled himself from the wall and took Roman’s hand as they walked down the hall. “First of all, you wish Logan had a crush on you. I think you’re just looking for an excuse to change your name to Roman Hamilton.”

“Imagine marrying Logan Hamilton. I could never,” Roman teased.

“Shut up you’re getting off-topic.”

“Weirdly defensive about marrying Logan,” he teased, bumping into Virgil’s side with a laugh. He felt pain in his hand as Virgil’s fists grew tighter. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Okay, okay I take it back.”

“Even if I did have a crush on Logan, he’s straight,” Virgil said. “And you’re getting off-topic. He’s not listening to me, he’s obviously not going to listen to you, and Patton isn’t even in the same room as the table.”

“And, again, what’s wrong with Patton and why am I oblivious?”

“Logan doesn’t exactly, uh, like Patton. And if you haven’t been able to notice that, you certainly have your head in the clouds.”

“I’m king of the clouds.”

“You’re not even a prince, Duke.”

“Touché.”

“I’ll send him a text,” Virgil said. “I just... hope he’ll respond.”

“You guys have been best friends since- what? Seventh grade?” Roman squeezed Virgil’s hand and leaned into him. “He’ll come around.”

Virgil leaned into the touch, both their heads pressed together as they turned a corner towards the school cafeteria. “This is worse than any fight we’ve ever had. I don’t know what to do.”

Roman stopped dead in his tracks. He took Virgil by the shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes. (He still had to grow used to the fact that Virgil was now taller than him. The growth spurt he had hit during his sophomore year was still a surprise.) “Everything is going to be fine,” he said. “You know how I know it will be? Because if Hamilton thinks he can hurt my second best friend then I’m going to kick his ass with my new weird crazy powers.”

“And what powers are those?”

“I’ll figure it out, okay? Now, c’mon, either Logan is going to come back and we can sort out this spirit situation. Or- Or- we forget about Logan for one night and I show you and Patton how to have a good time.”

“But what about-“

“Shhh.” Roman placed a finger over Virgil’s lips. “It’s a Remy Dormir party. We’re going to get drunk off our asses and have a great time. Okay?”

“Okay.”

It was Thursday, October 31, nearly 7:00 O’clock at night. When Roman had arrived Remy was busy locking the last of the bedroom and office doors, any room that would give him a death sentence if it were trashed.

“I brought drinks,” he announced, holding two plastic bags in his hands. Patton and Emile exchanged a glance, staring at Roman with quirked eyebrows. “Relax.” He pulled a bottle out from the bag. “It’s Sprite.”

“Ro, I’m glad you’re here,” Remy said, sliding three stacks of paper plates across the counter. “I need you guys to open these.”

“Great to see you too, Rem.”

“The pleasure is all yours I’m sure. Hey, hand me that pumpkin, will ya? Thanks, babe.”

“I’m pretty sure you call me that more than your own boyfriend.”

“Everyone else is ‘Babe’,” Remy explained, “Emile is ‘baby.’”

Emile blushed, his face redder than his Steven Universe shirt. “Reeeeemmmyyyy.”

“Save that for the bedroom, baby,” Remy teased.

Roman shoved a finger in his mouth and gagged. “You two are disgusting.”

Remy raised an eyebrow and threw a tape dispenser at Roman’s head. “Oh, please, like you haven’t jerked it to m-“

“OKAY! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” he yelled, face bright red. He turned towards Patton and Emile. “Pro tip: Never fucking tell Remy about a crush.”

“I’d consider it a close matter,” he said, failing to hide a laugh. “Aww, c’mon it was years ago.”

“And yet, you’re still an asshole about it.”

“You act like you still have feelings.”

“You act like I won’t shake you off this damn ladder.”

“Ouch. Someone’s got a sore spot.”

“Ladder,” Roman warned. There was a knock on the door but it swung open before anyone could answer it.

“Sup, bitches! I brought beers!” Narcissa yelled. She wore all black with a leather jacket that could rival Remy’s own and a floppy witch hat that still had a price tag on the side. Her long black hair and choppy bangs framed her face nicely. She had a diamond stud in her nose and wore glittery purple eyeshadow.

“Eww.”

“Oh. Duke is here.”

“Ah. Draco can go fuck herself.”

The two stood silent, staring each other down for a total of five seconds before laughing and pulling each other into a hug. “Virgil pulled into the driveway a few seconds after me. He’ll be here in a few-“

“Sup, motherfuckers!”

“He’s here,” she deadpanned.

“Virgil! Virgil, look!” Roman said, smiling like a puppy. “It’s Narcissa.”

“Aww, it’s my chorus baby,” she cooed, ruffling Virgil’s hair. “We miss you.”

“Stop, stop, I spent an hour making this look perfect,” Virgil said. He was dressed head to toe in regal vampire gear with fake blood on his lips and chin.

“Lookin’ sharp, bloodsucker,” Roman complimented.

“Blood isn’t the only thing I suck,” he said with a wink. “Oh! Patton, you made it!”

“I did!” Patton said. “Any luck with, uh, you know who?”

Remy gasped as he jumped off the ladder. “Did someone take my title of You Know Who?!”

“That’s offensive to Lord Voldemort,” Narcissa said.

“Suck my dick, babe.”

“Only if you suck mine.”

“I haven’t had any luck,” Virgil said, taking a seat next to Patton. “I know he needs space, but I don’t know what to do. Our time is running out.”

“Emile,” Patton blurted out. “We could, uh, use Emile if Logan won’t agree.”

Virgil knitted his eyebrows together, glancing up and down at Patton as he wiggled in his seat. “You don’t sound too sure of yourself. Besides, replacing Logan would only make things worse.”

“You said yourself that we’re running out of time.”

“Patton, I-“

A voice escaped Patton’s throat, low and gravely, nothing like the young boy’s own. It said, “We only have tonight, Fear. What are you so afraid of?” Patton slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Your face is turning green.”

“Your arms are turning violet.”

“Princey,” Virgil called, “can we see you real quick?”

“Yeah, what’s- Oh fuck.”

“Oh fuck indeed,” Virgil growled. He grabbed Patton and Roman’s hands and pulled them into the bathroom.

It’s Thursday, October 31, nearly 7:45 at night when Logan finds himself pacing in his bedroom, his eyes going up and down trying to reread a text Virgil had sent hours ago. He couldn’t think of a response.

Logan, we need to talk.

I’m so sorry about what happened at Patton’s house and I’m worried that I'll never get to apologize enough. I know you and Roman don’t always get along, but he really does care about you. The two of us have been fighting trying to figure out what’s best for you but that’s a choice only you can make. We’ll be at Remy’s house tonight and I really hope I can see you there and properly make amends.

We found a way to summon the fourth spirit. His name is Knowledge and I can think of no one more deserving than you of that power. But above all, I want my best friend back. So, please, talk to me.

Logan practically had the message memorized by now. He paced back and forth watching time move forward as his battery drained. Should he stay angry at Virgil and Roman for trying to make this choice without him? Should he forgive them? Should he accept this power? “Feelings,” he mumbled, “the bane of my existence.

Then his phone rang. His texts disappeared as a picture of Roman in a prince costume from behind the scenes of his last play took their place. Why was Roman calling? His finger hovered over the answer button before he finally gave in and clicked it.

“You have three seconds to explai-“

“Logan! Logan, oh thank fairy godmother you answered! We need your help!”

“Is this some sort of trap?”

“No! No, seriously, Virgil and Patton are here with me! We- We don’t know what’s going on! Patton has like- like scales or something! And Virgil looks like he barely escaped the Wonka factory!”

“Roman, your eyes,” he could hear Patton saying. “They’re red.”

“Logan! Just, please, we’re at Remy’s house! Get here as fast as you ca-” The line went dead. The clocks around him slowed, time never fully halting. The room began to dim. 

“Roman?” Logan asked, frantically trying to call him back. Every attempt failed. His heart was pounding in his chest. He was having a panic attack but he didn’t even have the time to pull himself out of it. He ran for his bedroom door, trying to pull it open but the handle wouldn’t budge.

“You are not needed there. Not yet,” a voice spoke.

Logan’s eyes welled with tears as he frantically pulled at the door handle. “LET ME OUT!” he screamed. “ROMAN NEEDS ME! LET ME OUT OF HERE!”

“No one can hear you now, Logan Zander Hamilton,” the voice said. “We have temporarily pulled apart from the known universe. There is no one outside that door. It’s only you and me. I suggest we have a little chat.”

Logan pressed his back against the door and fell to the ground, hugging his knees. “My- My friends,” he choked out. “They need me. They need me!”

“We need you, Logan Zander Hamilton,” he said, almost perfectly mimicking Virgil’s voice. Almost, yet too robotic. He wasn’t as caring and compassionate as Virgil always was. He appeared as a reflection in the mirror, a perfect doppelgänger to Logan but with something cold and robotic in his eyes. He looked like a man but he could not pass as human. “My friends and yours are now one.” He pressed his hand against the glass and walked through as easily as someone would walk through a wall of gelatin. And with that, the mirror seemed to bounce back as easily as gelatin without so much as a crack to prove that he had broken through. As he stepped closer, Logan could see how inhuman his eyes were. He was the cosmos hidden inside of a human shell. “Join me- Join us- and learn the secrets of your existence.”

“If- If I do this,” he asked, trying to wipe away the last of his tears, “will I be able to save my friends?”

“With the power of knowledge, you can save humankind.”

“They aren’t human, are they? Not anymore, at least. They’ve been... infected.”

“How observant of you.”

“I don’t need to save humankind,” he said, “I just need to save them.”

“Any panic or pain they are experiencing now is only at the cost of summoning me,” Knowledge said. “Whether aware or not, they have brought me to you. Neither I nor them will be at rest until I have a vessel.”

“For Virgil,” Logan said, “and for Roman. And Patton.” He stuck out his hand towards Knowledge. “I’ll do it.”

Knowledge took Logan’s hand. His human shell melted away and Logan found himself being blinded by the pure light in front of him. He expected to choke and cry in pain as Virgil and Roman had done. Instead, he found warmth traveling from his fingertips through his veins and arteries. He found warmth traveling through him in all directions. His head felt light and his chest felt full of the purest air.

Logan woke up from his bed. He slid on his glasses and looked at his reflection in his phone’s camera. His eyes held pools of stars. He was the cosmos inside of a human shell. He felt enlightened.

Logan put his phone in the pocket of his jeans, grabbed a jacket, and ran out of his house as fast as his legs would take him. When he got to Remy’s house his heart was pounding in the best possible way. He walked in, dodging students as he made his way towards the bathroom.

“LOGAN!” Virgil yelled, smiling brightly as the lights around them flickered with electricity.

“Maybe don’t destroy the lights here,” Logan teased. “You guys summoned a spirit. How the hell did you do that?”

“I, uh, think that was my fault,” Patton said meekly.

“It was Morality who started it,” Virgil corrected. “Not Patton.”

“Is there any difference?” Patton asked.

“Yes,” Logan said. “And no matter what, we must remember that there are differences between us and the spirits using us for personal gain.”

“Woah,” Roman whispered, leaning close to Logan. “Your eyes look wicked right now.”

“You accepted his powers,” Virgil said in disbelief. He smiled brightly, pulling Logan into a hug. “We’re superheroes!”

“We haven’t done anything heroic,” Logan said. “Being superhuman does not automatically make one a hero.”

“Be gay, fight crime,” Roman announced. Virgil shot him a look. “That’s going to be my motto. I’m copyrighting it as we speak.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Logan said with a laugh.

“That’s Logan’s way of saying ‘I love you.’”

“No, it’s just my way of calling you a nerd.”

There was an annoyed knock at the door. “Can you guys have your orgy somewhere else? You’ve been in there for nearly an hour,” Remy yelled.

The three of them laughed, their skin and faces slowly returning to normal. “Well, my friends,” Roman said. “Welcome to the rest of our lives.”

[thebiasrekkers]

No Words - Interlude

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Type: Interlude [Flashback]

Genre: Idol, Poly, Interracial, Tall Female, Smut, Angst, Fluff [if you squint]

Warning: None.

A/N - Felt the need to roll back before moving forward. So, you’ll get two releases this weekend! This is the first two of 5, Thank you for reading this mess of a story!

Words:  3712

---

2 Years Ago.

Lucky.

You couldn’t have asked for a situation to be luckier.  Her heartbeat could have doubled as a production drum track. One of her classmates, another girl from the inner city, looked bored as they sat in the auditorium. They both wanted to make music, good music - exciting music. They wanted to be at the forefront of technology and techniques for producing. They wanted the keys to the kingdom of hit songs.

The college decided that they could only get that experience - by working with the best of the best. They had invited a range of performers to come and discuss their methodology. Each had a formula that worked for them. Each performer had a story to connect to their songs. It wasn’t about the number one hit, it was about making honest music. About being true to themselves in the best way they can. Especially in an industry, and a country, that didn’t always accept differences.

She had been listening to various music styles, genres, and languages from a young age. It started in Jr. High, taking Spanish in 7th grade. She followed that throughout her High School time. She’s not embarrassed to say that Ricky Martin was apart of her foray into the Latin sounds. She listened to older songs, love songs, the music, and the story enthralled her.

Japanese animation spurred her love for J-Rock and J-Pop. X-Japan dragged her into the world, Dir en Grey kept her attention. She was in love with Visual Kei. Old rock, alternative rock, a smidge of country, and anything with a beat that caused her to lean her head toward it. She was an audiophile, plain, and simple.

Lead by a thin thread of melody until she had to devour the whole discography of an artist. She wanted to know all the ins and outs of the industry. Granted, there were other worthwhile fields to explore, so she was told. There was almost an expectation of finding easy money in business or even medical fields. She wrote poetry and song lyrics as long as she could remember. Music had been apart of the highs and lows of her life. She could associate a song for every pivotal moment of her life. The playlist spanned generations and the globe. It started when someone introduced her to Super Junior. Then it spiraled into 2NE1, Shinhwa, and the list went on and on.

She was so thankful her family didn’t try to limit her. Her parents expected her to be open-minded to the world around her. It was something instilled in her upbringing. That open-minded was the bane of her existence during her high school years, unfortunately. In a place where anything different made you strange or weird. She didn’t care for the urban selections that most of her friends were into.

There were times when her father put on his old school albums that she felt a connection. She wanted the story of music. She wanted the lyrics to strike her heart. That’s what she wanted in her music. She tried to write music, make music like that. All the artists she admired took chances, grew, and came back with something new.

And now?

She was sitting in an auditorium waiting for the most significant thing in music to come speak to their group.

She had a plethora of questions, worries, and fears. Everyone on the planet had heard about BTS at this point. There were a few of them who had managed to jump on the train early. Especially finding that they were working with legends in the rap community. Some watched expecting a spectacle - and to a degree? It was a spectacle.

Some wanted to see the thinking process of pinnacles of music that filled many a block party or high school dance. Let’s not forget backyard BBQs and family gatherings. Songs that whether you cared for the genre or not? Still managed to cause your body to move.

An elbow dug into her side as her friend stared wide-eyed at the line of men entering the auditorium. They were all seated semi-circle on the stage. BTS stood in front as the students clapped.

The boys had soft, quiet, smiles waving as RM straightened with a smooth phrase. It was almost military in precision as they saluted, bowed, and introduced themselves. They each took a moment to say hello in English at that. She tilted her head as they spoke.

It’s always a treat to hear a singer’s speaking voice. Some sharply contrasted their sounds. Others were no different from one to the other. She enjoyed the vocal textures, rich, or light tones as they spoke. Her friend saw her grinning like an idiot as her eyes rolled.

“Girl, get yourself together!” Tasha finally whispered to her. There was a thick swallow as she realized what she’d been doing. The boys were provided seats and microphones. They were treated to an acoustic version of one of their songs. To see the look of shock on the other student’s faces was an absolute treat.

She could only smile as time seemed to zip by. Filled with questions and curiosities. She asked all the questions she could. Always sure to ask for clarification, examples, and advice. RM was ready with a smooth, dimpled smile as he translated.

They all had solos under their belts at this time. So it was interesting to hear their thought processes. They all had one thing in common, though. The need to tell a story and convey emotion. To make sure that those who heard their music heard a message. It had been the most successful tactic thus far.

“So that ends our time. Everyone lets give BTS a round of applause!” The professor stood, the students followed. The boys bowed again and joined in the applause. They all gathered to shake hands, thanking them for taking time out of their grueling schedule.

RM raises his hands, spreading them wide. “Thank you for your time! We’ll see you tonight!” Everyone stared blankly at him, then their professor, who smiled widely. “Oh, I forgot to mention. We have permission to go backstage and watch operations for a tour.” To say that the sound that rose from the sudden silence was almost choral? It echoed off the walls as hands shook vigorously, shoulders were clapped - and the excitement caused tears.

“Alright, let’s get a picture!” The professor tried to get them all to find a spot. She managed to shake hands with most of the boys. Before she got a chance to shake Taehyung’s hand, they were being herded for a photo. She wound up, almost stepping on his foot as she tried to find a comfortable position. She wanted to shrink into nothingness. There was a bit of jostling before they used the bleachers to get them higher. She remembered one of the first words of Korean she’d learned. An apologetic smile as she mumbled an apology. Tae gave that infamous boxy smile with a wave of his hand. Tasha pulled her close as they sat on the bleachers smiling as the picture was taken. “Alright, you guys, meet back here in an hour - we’ll get shuttled to the stadium. Make sure you have your IDs..” The professor went on about etiquette, decorum, and rules. Nobody was listening - there was too much of a buzz about the show. They dispersed, waving the band members off. She bit into the bottom of her lip as they disappeared.

“Oh. My. God!” Tasha grabbed her and spun around. They laughed as she eyed her friend.

“Wait a minute, you were unimpressed just about an hour ago.” Tasha’s brow shot up with a devious grin.

“Girl, we get to go behind the scenes of the hottest tour yet! I may not understand anything - but I’m happy for the opportunity.” Tasha laughed as she tapped the base of a high ponytail. She pursed her lips, swinging its length. “Honey, that RM, though?” Ah, how many times had she heard that?

“Come on, I have to make sure you don’t embarrass me,” Tasha smirked, yanking her by the arm.

“W-what? That’s mean, Tasha!” She frowned slightly as the other woman rolled her eyes.

“It’s the truth.” She quipped as they hurried across the campus to her dorm.

“We’re going backstage, there’s nothing to dress for.” She kept the frown on her face Tasha bouldered into her apartment and pulled her in.

“Hush! Shower, now!” Tasha was taking no excuses as she pointed to the bathroom.

She grunted, rolling her eyes trudging to the bathroom.

Tasha respected her need to stay ‘practical’ about everything. She preferred oversized shirts, nearly formless skirts, and pants. Her friend wasn’t about that tonight. Tasha stuck her in a pair of jeans, a button-down shirt slightly tucked. She wore a pair of ankle boots accented with a silver chain. And by the time Tasha finished with her makeup? She hardly recognized herself.

“T-Tasha, I think you went a little overboard?” Her friend had just finished her own face. The subtle smokey eye with lower-liner really made her eyes pop! Tasha smirked as she grabbed their bags and pushed her out of the door.

“You’re not used to wearing makeup. Of course, you’d think it was too much.” The other woman rolled her eyes as they sprinted back to the meetup spot with minutes to spare. They all clambered on the shuttle.

All of a sudden, they were there. This was real.

They were walked through the various crew hiding spots. The makeshift dressing spaces underneath the stage. Everything was centrally located for the ease of the members.  The head PD was showing the group the setups, the chasers, and they finally arrived in ‘Monitor World.’ The place that was basically production HQ.

Some took notes, some lingered in the back looking around. Not her, no. She wanted to know what buttons did what. She wanted to know how they were sure that the upper-level fans could hear appropriately.

There were a few people with her curious about various other things. They could hear the crowd until they queued the chase pattern for the opening song. The boys rose from a floor lift. The group went wild as they started in on Blood, Sweat & Tears.

Walkie talkies were going off left and right. Every time something could possibly go wrong? It was pointed out, corrected, and communicated. It was a tight run ship. They moved along to the area under the stage, just as the boys were lowered for a set and costume change.

They were breathing heavy, sweating, and peeling their costumes off. There were people on the sides taking them, ushering them into the makeshift spaces. The students stayed back out of the way. The transition was so fast the students couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed. They made it back to the control hub.

As if to make sure they were paying attention? The Head PD asked them to point out what they remembered. Tasha nudged her with a thumbs up. You got this, she mouthed. Everyone shifted on their feet as they fought to not being first.

She straightened her posture as she stepped forward. “I’d like to give it a try.” The Head PD double-blinked as stood next to him. Ah, it was probably her height. She offered a gentle smile and nod, “If that’s ok?”

“Please do. The routine is the same as before.” He smiled with his walkie talkie in hand. She took a deep breath, stepping closer to the operators at the panel. A headset sat on her head as the plethora of voices filled her ear.

The Head PD let them know that a student was making the calls, but he was overseeing. Two more students joined the panel board, the techs looking over their shoulders and pointing out controls.

She counted them down for each new element.

The lights went dark as the chase pattern activated. They could do this - she could do this.

45 very long minutes later?

“Holy fuck, you did it?!” Tasha grabbed her in a frantic hug. “Y-you really fucking did it! I was scared shitless, man!” Her mind was still hazy over what just occurred. Tasha looped their arms together as the concert sailed to a close. They stood in the back eyes trained to the fireworks display above them.

“I thought I was going to vomit.” She admitted quietly. Tasha moved rainbow-colored braids from her face.

“You should be proud of yourself.” They shared a smile as the professor rounded them up again. They followed the road crew as the stage was broken down. The last fans had long gone, and they were all alone again. The trucks, vans, and equipment checked and secured. She had followed the equipment with a few other students. They watched the breakdown and helped to carry pieces to be stored. There were, of course, a few quips of concern as she hauled a miniature subwoofer to the van.

She politely reinforced her ability to contribute and promptly turned with the item in hand. She rolled up her sleeves, forearms contracting as she moved along the corridor. Ah, why did she let Tasha try to doll her up? The familiar burn in her muscles ebbed away as she handed the equipment to the technical director. She was at home when she could tomboy her way through situations.

She offered a bow turning to make her way back to the main group. A moment too long of watching everything around her left her in an area she didn’t recognize. A frown as she spun in a circle taking the next left turn under the created passageways - and she slammed into something.

“Ah!” A voice, male exclaimed as she staggered backward.

She stumbled, and that someone, thankfully, pulled her arm hard to keep her from landing on her rump. She sucked in a breath as her gaze lifted. “Shit! I’m sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was-” A grunt rumbled through the air as her eyes went wide. “Oh.”

Kim Taehyung was plucking the final buttons from his shirt. His gaze lowered to the floor as he fought off exhaustion. They had to get changed to meet up on the stage again. It took him a little longer to get the cramps out of his legs. He barely made out a shadow before his body collided with it.

He saw her bounce from foot to foot before he pulled her arm. He heard the remorse in her voice as she rambled. His brow furrowed as she spoke too quick for him to pick out words. He still had his fingers wrapped around her forearm as she looked up at him.

She smelled … magnificent. His lashes lowered, nostrils flaring, on an inhale. She watched the perfect heart shape of his mouth part softly. She lowered her gaze to the expanse of flesh in her face. He was one button away from a cheesy romance novel cover.

They stood in silence, trading body heat before she glanced at the long fingers burning into her skin. Their gazes locked again, “You should be more careful.” He rumbled softly. Her lip caught between her teeth as she nodded rapidly.

“R-right. I’m sorry. Thank you.” She coughed softly, stepping away from him. His fingers still lingered until they loosened. Her eyes were wide as she turned on her heel, trying to get back out to the main walkway without that hint of desperation in her steps.

Tasha came rounding the corner at that very moment. “Hey! They’re waiting on us on stage for a final picture. Come on! I’m not missing this because of you.” Her friend yanked her along with a stupid grin on her face.

“Tae, Hyung, come on!” Jeongguk showed up as Tae went in the opposite direction. The maknae let him in their makeshift space. He helped Tae peel out of a sweaty costume. “I can’t wait to get some food and a beer.” Tae shrugged on a turtle neck, an oversized sweatshirt, and black slacks.

“That makes two of us.” The visual croaked tiredly. “Come on, then.” Jeongguk gave that bunny-like smile as he dragged Tae toward the stage. Tae sulked, “What are you doing?”

Jeongguk’s brow shot up as they walked into the wings. “We have to take a picture with the class from earlier!” Tae rolled his eyes as he was dragged out. They made it in time for Namjoon to address everyone.

“It’s been an absolute pleasure to meet you all. Good luck in the future. Please wish us well - and maybe? We’ll see you backstage with us someday!” There was a round of applause as everybody tried to find a spot to fit in the picture. Tasha winked as she made her way over to squeeze near Namjoon.

The betrayal of it all! She laughed as Tasha found a sweet spot to brag about later. She, on the other hand, wanted to just kneel down the front. The professor frowned with a wave of her hand, “Come on, you know you’re too tall up here! Stand back there.” There was a grimace on her face as she moved to the back. They were staged in layers again.

“Everybody in!” She felt jostled as arms pulled against her shoulders. Before she had a moment to register anything? Jeongguk squeezed on one side of her, his arm around Taehyung, who squeezed on the other.

Students, Staff, and Band were connected in the joy of a show well done. The camera flashed, and she smiled on autopilot. A few flashes, more applause, and she was quick to escape the trap she found herself in.

Jeongguk had caught a whiff of something pleasant, tilting his head curiously at the tall female. Both he and Tae seemed to find each other’s gaze as they flitted looks at the woman between them.

She turned to shake their hands with a quiet thank you. Both of them seemed to take TOO LONG to let her hand go. She beat feet in Tasha’s direction as soon as she could. Tasha had this dreamy look on her face after speaking to Namjoon for a few minutes.

“Is this what heaven is like?” Tasha’s eyes were glassy and hooded. You’d think the girl finished smoking an exquisite bouquet of the studded sticks.

“It could be, Tash. It could be.” She smiled, turning to look at the empty stadium. The students have all huddled together once again. The professor was talking with the TDs and PDs, even Namjoon was there. There was a look of stern concentration on various faces. A cellphone in the middle of the group seemed to be the main focus.

The chill in the air didn’t phase them as they spoke of their experience. They lamented their mistakes. They reveled in techniques to apply later. They were buzzing with excitement and a renewed appreciation for following their current educational path.

“Ok, everyone, listen up!” Their professor walked back over with a massive smile on her face. Tasha was rambling with her arms wrapped around her frame. She could see the heat of breath wavering in the air. The professor’s excitement was palpable with a gesture back to the team behind her. Suddenly, she could feel her heart thundering against her rib cage. Maybe the others could hear it too? They all got quiet.

They were all staring at each other, then at her. Her mouth was half-open as white noise filled her head. Her brow furrowed deeply as others around her wore looks of shock and disbelief. Then there was more applause.

Tasha grabbed her, jumping up and down, her voice pitched to shrieking. She felt her body shake as she turned the dazed look to her friend.

W-wait, what?

Tasha cupped her face and looked ready to cry. She blinked down into her friend’s face, prepared to be violently sick.

She turned back to the professor, catching the end of her statement as her hearing filtered back in.

“…you passed…” Her eyes went wide. “…intense work-study opportunity…” She was surely going to be sick. “…traveling with the tour…” More applause. “You’ll still need to complete courses, you’ll be provided with online links.” She staggered into Tasha, who laughed even louder.

“We wanted to see how this first run would work, and you surpassed all expectations. Congratulations, you’ll set the tone for the future students of the program.”

You blinked back tears as you engulfed Tasha in a hug. Not only were you all going to be able to get the first-hand experience? You’ll get it with BTS. It all made sense as to why they required a passport as an admission qualification. The professor stepped away to join the technical team while you all rejoiced. Namjoon and the rest of BTS gathered to shake your hands, and offer their congratulations.

Comments expecting good things ahead were traded. She was happy. This was unbelievable - a stroke of luck.

Tasha managed to steal a hug from Namjoon, crying almost harder when she turned around. A firm hand landed on her own, leaving her with a beaming Jeongguk. A half bow, a smile, a nod of thanks as he lingered. Taehyung all but moved the maknae aside to get her hand in his again.

He had that arrogant tilt to his head. The tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he lifted her hand. The light caught the dark chocolate of his gaze as he let his breath ghost across her knuckles.

He eased up, flashing a boxy smile before grabbing Tasha, doing the same. She shook off the strangeness of it all, turning to her friend with open arms.

“We did it!”

Their arms looped as they finally made their way off stage. The shuttle was waiting to get them to a small celebration. She still couldn’t help looking over her shoulder. For just a moment, she felt something staring a hole into her shoulder from the shadows.

Her brow furrowed as Tasha pulled her attention forward.

…just missing the two silhouettes lingering in the wings.

[darknytemare]

No Words  -Interlude-

[A/N - felt the need to roll back before moving forward. So, you’ll get two releases this weekend! This is the first of two, maybe 3? Then we’ll get back to the present next week! Thank you for reading this mess of a story!]

BTS - V Imagine - Tall Girl - Interracial - Interlude [Flashback]

2 Years Ago.

Lucky.

You couldn’t have asked for a situation to be luckier.  Her heartbeat could have doubled as a production drum track. One of her classmates, another girl from the inner city, looked bored as they sat in the auditorium. They both wanted to make music, good music - interesting music. They wanted to be at the forefront of technology and techniques for producing. They wanted the keys to the kingdom of hit songs. 

The college decided that they could only get that experience - by working with the best of the best. They had invited a range of performers to come and discuss their methodology. Each had a formula that worked for them. Each performer had a story to connect to their songs. It wasn’t about the number one hit, it was about making honest music. About being true to themselves in the best way they can. Especially in an industry, and a country, that didn’t always accept differences. 

She had been listening to various music styles, genres, and languages from a young age. It started in Jr. High, taking Spanish in 7th grade. She followed that throughout her High School time. She’s not embarrassed to say that Ricky Martin was apart of her foray into the Latin sounds. She listened to older songs, love songs, the music, and the story enthralled her. Japanese animation spurred her love for J-Rock and J-Pop. X-Japan dragged her into the world, Dir en Grey kept her attention. She was in love with Visual Kei. Old rock, alternative rock, a smidge of country, and anything with a beat that caused her to lean her head toward it. She was an audiophile, plain, and simple. 

Lead by a thin thread of melody until she had to devour the whole discography of an artist. She wanted to know all the ins and outs of the industry. Granted, there were other worthwhile fields to explore, so she was told. There was almost an expectation of finding easy money in business or even medical fields. She wrote poetry and song lyrics as long as she could remember. Music had been apart of the highs and lows of her life. She could associate a song for every pivotal moment of her life. The playlist spanned generations and the globe. It started when someone introduced her to Super Junior. Then it spiraled into 2NE1, Shinhwa, and the list went on and on. 

She was so thankful her family didn’t try to limit her. Her parents expected her to be open-minded to the world around her. It was something instilled in her upbringing. That open-minded was the bane of her existence during her high school years, unfortunately. In a place where anything different made you strange or weird. She didn’t care for the urban selections that most of her friends were into. 

There were times when her father put on his old school albums that she felt a connection. She wanted the story of music. She wanted the lyrics to strike her heart. That’s what she wanted in her music. She tried to write music, make music like that. All the artists she admired took chances, grew, and came back with something new. 

And now?

She was sitting in an auditorium waiting for the most significant thing in music to come speak to their group. 

She had a plethora of questions, worries, and fears. Everyone on the planet had heard about BTS at this point. There were a few of them who had managed to jump on the train early. Especially finding that they were working with legends in the rap community. Some watched expecting a spectacle - and to a degree? It was a spectacle.

Some wanted to see the thinking process of pinnacles of music that filled many a block party or high school dance. Let’s not forget backyard BBQs and family gatherings. Songs that whether you cared for the genre or not? Still managed to cause your body to move.

An elbow dug into her side as her friend stared wide-eyed at the line of men entering the auditorium. They were all seated semi-circle on the stage. BTS stood in front as the students clapped.

The boys had soft, quiet, smiles waving as RM straightened with a soft phrase. It was almost military in precision as they saluted, bowed, and introduced themselves. They each took a moment to say hello in English at that. She tilted her head as they spoke. 

It’s always a treat to hear a singer’s speaking voice. Some sharply contrasted their sounds. Others were no different from one to the other. She enjoyed the vocal textures, rich, or light tones as they spoke. Her friend saw her grinning like an idiot as her eyes rolled.

“Girl, get yourself together!” Tasha finally whispered to her. There was a thick swallow as she realized what she’d been doing. The boys were provided seats and microphones. They were treated to an acoustic version of one of their songs. To see the look of shock on the other student’s faces was an absolute treat. 

She could only smile as time seemed to zip by. Filled with questions and curiosities. She asked all the questions she could. Always sure to ask for clarification, examples, and advice. RM was ready with a smooth, dimpled smile as he translated. 

They all had solos under their belts at this time. So it was interesting to hear their thought processes. They all had one thing in common, though. The need to tell a story and convey emotion. To make sure that those who heard their music heard a message. It had been the most successful tactic thus far.

“So that ends our time. Everyone lets give BTS a round of applause!” The professor stood, the students followed. The boys bowed again and joined in the applause. They all gathered to shake hands, thanking them for taking time out of their grueling schedule. 

RM raises his hands, spreading them wide. “Thank you for your time! We’ll see you tonight!” Everyone stared blankly at him, then their professor, who smiled widely. “Oh, I forgot to mention. We have permission to go backstage and watch operations for a tour.” To say that the sound that rose from the sudden silence was almost choral? It echoed off the walls as hands shook vigorously, shoulders were clapped - and the excitement caused tears. 

“Alright, let’s get a picture!” The professor tried to get them all to find a spot. She managed to shake hands with most of the boys. Before she got a chance to shake Taehyung’s hand, they were being herded for a photo. She wound up, almost stepping on his foot as she tried to find a comfortable position. She wanted to shrink into nothingness. There was a bit of jostling before they used the bleachers to get them higher. She remembered one of the first words of Korean she’d learned. An apologetic smile as she mumbled an apology. Tae gave that infamous boxy smile with a wave of his hand. Tasha pulled her close as they sat on the bleachers smiling as the picture was taken. “Alright, you guys, meet back here in an hour - we’ll get shuttled to the stadium. Make sure you have your IDs..” The professor went on about etiquette, decorum, and rules. Nobody was listening - there was too much of a buzz about the show. They dispersed, waving the band members off. She bit into the bottom of her lip as they disappeared. 

“Oh. My. God!” Tasha grabbed her and spun around. They laughed as she eyed her friend. 

“Wait a minute, you were unimpressed just about an hour ago.” Tasha’s brow shot up with a devious grin. 

“Girl, we get to go behind the scenes of the hottest tour yet! I may not understand anything - but I’m happy for the opportunity.” Tasha laughed as she tapped the base of a high ponytail. She pursed her lips, swinging its length. “Honey, that RM, though?” Ah, how many times had she heard that?

“Come on, I have to make sure you don’t embarrass me,” Tasha smirked, yanking her by the arm.

“W-what? That’s mean, Tasha!” She frowned slightly as the other woman rolled her eyes. 

“It’s the truth.” She quipped as they hurried across the campus to her dorm. 

“We’re going backstage, there’s nothing to dress for.” She kept the frown on her face Tasha bouldered into her apartment and pulled her in. 

“Hush! Shower, now!” Tasha was taking no excuses as she pointed to the bathroom. 

She grunted, rolling her eyes trudging to the bathroom. 

Tasha respected her need to stay ‘practical’ about everything. She preferred oversized shirts, nearly formless skirts, and pants. Her friend wasn’t about that tonight. Tasha stuck her in a pair of jeans, a button-down shirt slightly tucked. She wore a pair of ankle boots accented with a silver chain. And by the time Tasha finished with her makeup? She hardly recognized herself. 

“T-Tasha, I think you went a little overboard?” Her friend had just finished her own face. The subtle smokey eye with lower-liner really made her eyes pop! Tasha smirked as she grabbed their bags and pushed her out of the door. 

“You’re not used to wearing makeup. Of course, you’d think it was too much.” The other woman rolled her eyes as they sprinted back to the meetup spot with minutes to spare. They all clambered on the shuttle. 

All of a sudden, they were there. This was real. 

They were walked through the various crew hiding spots. The makeshift dressing spaces underneath the stage. Everything was centrally located for the ease of the members.  The head PD was showing the group the setups, the chasers, and they finally arrived in ‘Monitor World.’ The place that was basically production HQ.

Some took notes, some lingered in the back looking around. Not her, no. She wanted to know what buttons did what. She wanted to know how they were sure that the upper-level fans could hear appropriately.

There were a few people with her curious about various other things. They could hear the crowd until they queued the chase pattern for the opening song. The boys rose from a floor lift. The group went wild as they started in on Blood, Sweat & Tears. 

Walkie talkies were going off left and right. Every time something could possibly go wrong? It was pointed out, corrected, and communicated. It was a tight run ship. They moved along to the area under the stage, just as the boys were lowered for a set and costume change. 

They were breathing heavy, sweating, and peeling their costumes off. There were people on the sides taking them, ushering them into the makeshift spaces. The students stayed back out of the way. The transition was so fast the students couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed. They made it back to the control hub. 

As if to make sure they were paying attention? The Head PD asked them to point out what they remembered. Tasha nudged her with a thumbs up. You got this, she mouthed. Everyone shifted on their feet as they fought to not being first. 

She straightened her posture as she stepped forward. “I’d like to give it a try.” The Head PD double-blinked as stood next to him. Ah, it was probably her height. She offered a gentle smile and nod, “If that’s ok?” 

“Please do. The routine is the same as before.” He smiled with his walkie talkie in hand. She took a deep breath, stepping closer to the operators at the panel. A headset sat on her head as the plethora of voices filled her ear.

The Head PD let them know that a student was making the calls, but he was overseeing. Two more students joined the panel board, the techs looking over their shoulders and pointing out controls.

She counted them down for each new element. 

The lights went dark as the chase pattern activated. They could do this - she could do this.

45 very long minutes later?

“Holy fuck, you did it?!” Tasha grabbed her in a frantic hug. “Y-you really fucking did it! I was scared shitless, man!” Her mind was still hazy over what just occurred. Tasha looped their arms together as the concert sailed to a close. They stood in the back eyes trained to the fireworks display above them.

“I thought I was going to vomit.” She admitted quietly. Tasha moved rainbow-colored braids from her face. 

“You should be proud of yourself.” They shared a smile as the professor rounded them up again. They followed the road crew as the stage was broken down. The last fans had long gone, and they were all alone again. The trucks, vans, and equipment checked and secured. She had followed the equipment with a few other students. They watched the breakdown and helped to carry pieces to be stored. There were, of course, a few quips of concern as she hauled a miniature subwoofer to the van. 

She politely reinforced her ability to contribute and promptly turned with the item in hand. She rolled up her sleeves, forearms contracting as she moved along the corridor. Ah, why did she let Tasha try to doll her up? The familiar burn in her muscles ebbed away as she handed the equipment to the technical director. She was at home when she could tomboy her way through situations.

She offered a bow turning to make her way back to the main group. A moment too long of watching everything around her left her in an area she didn’t recognize. A frown as she spun in a circle taking the next left turn under the created passageways - and she slammed into something.

“Ah!” A voice, male exclaimed as she staggered backward. 

She stumbled, and that someone, thankfully, pulled her arm hard to keep her from landing on her rump. She sucked in a breath as her gaze lifted. “Shit! I’m sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was-” A grunt rumbled through the air as her eyes went wide. “Oh.” 

Kim Taehyung was plucking the final buttons from his shirt. His gaze lowered to the floor as he fought off exhaustion. They had to get changed to meet up on the stage again. It took him a little longer to get the cramps out of his legs. He barely made out a shadow before his body collided with it. 

He saw her bounce from foot to foot before he pulled her arm. He heard the remorse in her voice as she rambled. His brow furrowed as she spoke too quick for him to pick out words. He still had his fingers wrapped around her forearm as she looked up at him. 

She smelled ... magnificent. His lashes lowered, nostrils flaring, on an inhale. She watched the perfect heart shape of his mouth part softly. She lowered her gaze to the expanse of flesh in her face. He was one button away from a cheesy romance novel cover. 

They stood in silence, trading body heat before she glanced at the long fingers burning into her skin. Their gazes locked again, “You should be more careful.” He rumbled softly. Her lip caught between her teeth as she nodded rapidly.

“R-right. I’m sorry. Thank you.” She coughed softly, stepping away from him. His fingers still lingered until they loosened. Her eyes were wide as she turned on her heel, trying to get back out to the main walkway without that hint of desperation in her steps.

Tasha came rounding the corner at that very moment. “Hey! They’re waiting on us on stage for a final picture. Come on! I’m not missing this because of you.” Her friend yanked her along with a stupid grin on her face. 

“Tae, Hyung, come on!” Jeongguk showed up as Tae went in the opposite direction. The maknae let him in their makeshift space. He helped Tae peel out of a sweaty costume. “I can’t wait to get some food and a beer.” Tae shrugged on a turtle neck, an oversized sweatshirt, and black slacks. 

“That makes two of us.” The visual croaked tiredly. “Come on, then.” Jeongguk gave that bunny-like smile as he dragged Tae toward the stage. Tae sulked, “What are you doing?”

Jeongguk’s brow shot up as they walked into the wings. “We have to take a picture with the class from earlier!” Tae rolled his eyes as he was dragged out. They made it in time for Namjoon to address everyone.

“It’s been an absolute pleasure to meet you all. Good luck in the future. Please wish us well - and maybe? We’ll see you backstage with us someday!” There was a round of applause as everybody tried to find a spot to fit in the picture. Tasha winked as she made her way over to squeeze near Namjoon.

The betrayal of it all! She laughed as Tasha found a sweet spot to brag about later. She, on the other hand, wanted to just kneel down the front. The professor frowned with a wave of her hand, “Come on, you know you’re too tall up here! Stand back there.” There was a grimace on her face as she moved to the back. They were staged in layers again. 

“Everybody in!” She felt jostled as arms pulled against her shoulders. Before she had a moment to register anything? Jeongguk squeezed on one side of her, his arm around Taehyung, who squeezed on the other. 

Students, Staff, and Band, were connected in the joy of a show well done. The camera flashed, and she smiled on autopilot. A few flashes, more applause, and she was quick to escape the trap she found herself in. 

Jeongguk had caught a whiff of something pleasant, tilting his head curiously at the tall female. Both he and Tae seemed to find each other’s gaze as they flitted looks at the woman between them. 

She turned to shake their hands with a quiet thank you. Both of them seemed to take TOO LONG to let her hand go. She beat feet in Tasha’s direction as soon as she could. Tasha had this dreamy look on her face after speaking to Namjoon for a few minutes.

“Is this what heaven is like?” Tasha’s eyes were glassy and hooded. You’d think the girl finished smoking an exquisite bouquet of thc studded sticks. 

“It could be, Tash. It could be.” She smiled, turning to look at the empty stadium. The students have all huddled together once again. The professor was talking with the TDs and PDs, even Namjoon was there. There was a look of stern concentration on various faces. A cellphone in the middle of the group seemed to be the main focus. 

The chill in the air didn’t phase them as they spoke of their experience. They lamented their mistakes. They reveled in techniques to apply later. They were buzzing with excitement and a renewed appreciation for following their current educational path.

“Ok, everyone, listen up!” Their professor walked back over with a massive smile on her face. Tasha was rambling with her arms wrapped around her frame. She could see the heat of breath wavering in the air. The professor’s excitement was palpable with a gesture back to the team behind her. Suddenly, she could feel her heart thundering against her rib cage. Maybe the others could hear it too? They all got quiet.

They were all staring at each other, then at her. Her mouth was half-open as white noise filled her head. Her brow furrowed deeply as others around her wore looks of shock and disbelief. Then there was more applause.

Tasha grabbed her, jumping up and down, her voice pitched to shrieking. She felt her body shake as she turned the dazed look to her friend. 

W-wait, what?

Tasha cupped her face and looked ready to cry. She blinked down into her friend’s face, prepared to be violently sick.

She turned back to the professor, catching the end of her statement as her hearing filtered back in.

“...you passed…” Her eyes went wide. “...intense work-study opportunity…” She was surely going to be sick. “...traveling with the tour…” More applause. “You’ll still need to complete courses, you'll be provided with online links.” She staggered into Tasha, who laughed even louder.

“We wanted to see how this first run would work, and you surpassed all expectations. Congratulations, you’ll set the tone for the future students of the program.”

You blinked back tears as you engulfed Tasha in a hug. Not only were you all going to be able to get the first-hand experience? You’ll get it with BTS. It all made sense as to why they required a passport as an admission qualification. The professor stepped away to join the technical team while you all rejoiced. Namjoon and the rest of BTS gathered to shake your hands, and offer their congratulations.

Comments expecting good things ahead were traded. She was happy. This was unbelievable - a stroke of luck. 

Tasha managed to steal a hug from Namjoon, crying almost harder when she turned around. A firm hand landed on her own, leaving her with a beaming Jeongguk. A half bow, a smile, a nod of thanks as he lingered. Taehyung all but moved the maknae aside to get her hand in his again. 

He had that arrogant tilt to his head. The tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he lifted her hand. The light caught the dark chocolate of his gaze as he let his breath ghost across her knuckles. 

He eased up, flashing a boxy smile before grabbing Tasha, doing the same. She shook off the strangeness of it all, turning to her friend with open arms. 

“We did it!” 

Their arms looped as they finally made their way off stage. The shuttle was waiting to get them to a small celebration. She still couldn’t help looking over her shoulder. For just a moment, she felt something staring a hole into her shoulder from the shadows.

Her brow furrowed as Tasha pulled her attention forward. 

...just missing the two silhouettes lingering in the wings.

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of January 1st, 2019

Best of this Week: The Flash #85 - Joshua Williamson, Christian Duce, Luis Guerrero and Steve Wands

Amidst everything going on in the DC Universe right now from Year of the Villain to the end of Doomsday Clock, there’s been a lot of really underrated books that DC’s been publishing and Flash Definitely falls into that category for me. Of course, Flash is no low-tier character, but as it stands, there’s not a big conversation surrounding Joshua Williamson’s run with the character like there is for the up and down runs of Batman and Superman, but there should be!

Joshua Williamson and his revolving art team of Christian Duce, Scott Kolins, Rafa Sandoval and Carmine di Giandomenico have pulled off some of the most consistently fantastic Flash storytelling in recent years. From the Speed Force Storm to Flash’s “Final Showdown” with Captain Cold and finally here with Rogues’ Reign, these stories have only seen Flash become an even better character with depth after he’s been tested over and over with insurmountable odds and overpowered enemies while still being riddled with doubt.

This issue of Flash acts as the penultimate issue to the Rogues’ Reign storyline and sees us learning a bit more about some of the Rogues as individuals while at the same time, breaking them apart even further. This book is less centered on the various speedsters, but more around their lack of control over their powers and Flash continuing his rivalry with King Cold to the bitterest end.

The book begins with four panels of King Cold, Leonard Snart, monologuing to himself. We get a great big focus of the Symbol of Doom in the sky as Snart says that it’s the end of the world, but at least he’s going out like a winner, unlike his loser of a father. One of the many defining characteristics of Cold up to this point and in other stories has been his hatred of his father and his aversion to become anything like him. However, he’s become nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy because his life is nothing more than misery because of the sacrifices he made to get to where he is.

Cold helped Luthor’s ascension and the rise of Doom by accepting Luthor’s Gift and allowing himself and his Rogues to become ultra powered, but in doing so, has alienated himself from his friends and family now that they all have what they want. Duce frames all of this excellently by first placing Cold in shadow before he looks at his glasses, as if reminiscing about his old life before putting them on and looking towards his death at the end of the world.

Soon after, we cut to Kid Flash and Avery receiving training from two unlikely sources; Heatwave and Weather Wizard. Though they were seen as reporting in to King Cold a few issues ago, it was brief and mostly to air some small grievances that they had with the way that Cold was running things. Here, we get the reveal that they’d been working with Golden Glider since she broke off from her brother and Mirror Master under their noses. In a brilliant double page spread by Duce and Guererro, we see that they’ve been helping the speedsters keep their speed under control.

It’s a pretty warmhearted scene followed by more where Gold Glider comforts Flash about their presence. Williamson makes Heatwave and Weather Wizard come off as two men that have suffered hardships in their lives, leading them to the life of crime, but still managing to have hearts. Glider tells Flash how Weather Wizard wanted to escape the life of crime that his family was involved in when he was a kid, but never could which lead to him hurting people he loved. Heatwave suffers similarly from his pyromania being the reason his parents died, but it’s painted more as him having a sickness he can’t control. Glider tells Flash that they want to stop Cold so that things can go back to the way that they were.

Duce draws these scenes with a surprising intimacy. Amidst all of the intense action, Duce draws Heatwave with a sense of pride as he watches Kid Flash control his speed better, Weather Wizard stare in his lonesome because of everything going on and shows the kids eating with their teachers after a long day. On top of all of this, Flash has a nice scene where Golden Glider teaches him how to ice skate after he asks her to get back into what was one her hobby. Guererro colors all of these scenes with warm tones, even in the ice which is primarily blue and white. Flash and Glider’s colors give off something of a happy feeling.

One of the recurring themes of this run has been relating to the Rogues in meaningful ways and Williamson does an excellent job here of contrasting all of them to an amazing degree.

After Flash makes a bad joke to Golden Glider, causing her to become morose, Weather Wizard steps in and tells them that they’ve found where Mirror Master has been hiding and the entire crew go to find the last two pieces of his great mirror. Kid Flash asks Golden Glider if she used to date him and she confirms this, stating that she didn’t know why, but that she knew all of his tricks.

Mirror Master has always been one of the Rogues of lesser renown because well… he's an idiot. Only in the sense that he's never used his powers to a degree where people needed to be afraid of him, but thanks to his upgrade they need to. In actuality, his access to an entire Mirror Dimension makes him one of the most dangerous people in the DC Universe as a potential spy or thief because A LOT OF SURFACES REFLECT. Flash and the other Rogues learn this the hard way when Mirror Master springs a trap on them, revealing that he knew that Glider and the others betrayed Cold.

When the Rogues and Speedsters finally encountered Mirror Master, he looks absolutely devious with a wide grin and his wide grin as they did everything they could to stop him. Duce’s poses were dynamic and captured how intense the fight was, the furious facial expressions were very well done and crystalline backgrounds were beautiful. Guerrero’s colors stood out in how distinct each of them were. Mirror Master’s glossy white clashed with the other characters, especially Flash’s vibrant reds and Weather Wizard’s dark greens. By easily besting all of them, he showed just how dangerous he could be.

He teleports them all to the King and Snart notes how disappointed he is and how the Rogues could have ruled the world together. This causes Glider to snap at him, saying that he never told the Rogues what that would entail - the end of the world under Luthor. At this point Captain Cold is so far gone that he just doesn't care anymore and Williamson has been leading him down this path since the beginning.

In Rogues Reloaded, Cold had the idea for the Rogues to get one more heist over on The Flash before retiring completely and that was foiled with all of the Rogues being defeated. In Welcome to Iron Heights, Snart decided he'd run an operation from prison but Barry Allen and his former ally, Godspeed foiled that plan too. Because Cold had murdered another inmate to throw off the scent, this led to a fist fight between Cold and Flash which saw Cold's defeat and transfer to Belle Reve Penitentiary. Obviously the defeat had an adverse effect on Cold because he was so sure that he would overcome, but didn’t. He lost again.

Captain Cold has always been one to hold family in high regard since he's never quite had a functioning one side from the Rogues, so his time on the Suicide Squad was devastating to him. I mentioned in past Flash reviews that watching teammates die mission after mission must have done something to his psyche and Lex Luthor took advantage of that when offering him and his actual friends a way to win against The Flash. All of that led to this.

King Cold, feeling betrayed and pissed off, freezes his former friends and sister, leaving only The Flash to fight him one on one again. In their last fight, Cold wanted it to be one on one without any powers, but he lost that fight because of Flash’s iron will. As he removes his cold weather clothes, he reveals that Luthor’s Gift wasn’t just improved gear, but it was a supercharge of power implanted into him. Their final face off will be hand to hand with powers.

This final shot is absolutely poster worthy. Duce conveys the rage emanating from both of them with jaws wide as if they were yelling at each other. Fists are cocked back, ready to pummel their opponent into the ground, especially Cold as he has frozen his arms up to the elbow for maximum impact. What makes this even better is the Symbol of Doom hanging over them in the background like a terrible omen. Guerrero manages o make so many colors fit together in a brilliant display. Flash and his signature red and bright yellow makes him look heroic, the underdog in a fight shrouded in dark greens and cold greys. Cold is paler, his normally blonde hair turned completely white and his arms as blue as his cold blood.

I absolutely loved this.

Duce and Guerrero killed the art in this issue. On the scale of Flash artists for me, Duce is high up there. They manage to blend high intensity action with nice character moments to get the reader invested in character’s emotional states through visuals. Guerrero accentuates this by coloring scenes so that they fit each individual mood and can blend these all together when there’s a clash of ideology or character. Of course, Steve Wands is the glue that holds all of this together his letters are perfectly placed, distinct for each character and give every situation the proper weight to individual lines.

The Flash is an underrated hit that everyone should be reading, especially in regards to the Flash/Captain Cold saga. Their rivalry has been a grand center point on the level of Batman and Bane’s right now or Superman and good storytelling (zing!) I can only wonder where things go from here and what will happen to Captain Cold after this because this is probably the highest he’s ever flown, so how will he fall?

[vaguelyrotten]

Like a Lily In a Flood

Title: Like a Lily in a Flood Artist: @myulalie Beta: @another-random-stranger​​ Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, mentions of Jimon and Reyhill Word Count: 70k Warnings: Mild Gore, Beheading, Nearly being eaten alive and burned at the stake, Discrimination, Sickness Summary:  Alec returns home to find his town plagued by a mysterious illness. Unable to find a cure, he ventures into the woods to seek help from an unlikely source. We must not look at goblin men... This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2021: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Chapter One

It was raining.

Then again, it was always raining in Idris when it seemed to matter most.

Alec dipped out of the carriage with a sigh and made a beeline for the manor’s front door, knowing that he was going to get wet regardless.

“Alec,” his mother said coldly as she opened the door. “It was nice of you to take time out of your busy schedule and join us in our time of need.” He sighed, following his mother into the house and stripping off his soaked jacket.

He stood, dripping wet, in the foyer as Maryse looked him over with a hard eye. “It doesn’t look like the city nor the additional training you are supposed to be receiving are doing you any good. Honestly, what was even the point of sending you? You should have stayed here. You could have taken over the household when your father fell ill.”

He knew that his mother meant for her words to hurt him, and there was a time only a few years ago when they would have, but no longer. Getting out from under his parents’ thumb had done wonders for his mental health. He knew who he was now and that he had the ability to choose his own path.

So right now? Standing in the foyer of the house he hadn’t set foot in for two years, soaked to the bone and under his mother’s scrutiny? He felt nothing...and it felt good. “You have Jace,” he replied after a moment, accepting the towel that their butler Hodge was offering him.

She scoffed, crossing her arms in that way which meant an argument was coming. “Jace has his duties and you had yours. You were supposed to be head of this house, and this town, after your father retired.”

He’d first left for the city under the pretense of studying law but he’d fallen out of love with that and discovered that his true passion was architecture. He, of course, hadn’t informed his parents of his decision to switch his field of study. They’d be disappointed and there would be words, and while their opinions no longer mattered to him, he needed to be in the right frame of mind for that conversation. He didn’t foresee himself wanting to take that dive any time soon. “I left for the family’s best interest. We need to get out of here. This town is killing all of us.”

Before his father had fallen ill, he’d meant that metaphorically. Generations of Lightwoods had lived in Idris for nearly two-hundred years and had held the position of mayor for most of that. In that time, his family had grown crueler and colder. Once, they’d been a light in the darkness for the people in this town, rescuing them from disaster and leading them through. Today, the Lightwoods still led… but they definitely no longer did it with Idris’ best interest at heart.

No, it was all about power. Alec hated that and all the politics that came with it. That’s what he had hoped to avoid by moving to the city. One day, he was hoping he could have his siblings join him.

His mother chose to say nothing more. He draped the towel over his shoulders with a sigh. “Let me see him. I’m here now, at least.” Alec had tried to get there sooner but the spring rain made getting across the river treacherous. He had to wait a couple of days for the water to get back to normal levels. His mother started up the stairs and he followed her without further comment.

“I have the house and the town to attend to. Someone has to run this place while Robert is indisposed. I’ll leave you to it but come find me when you’re done, Alec. We have issues to discuss.” She closed the door behind her, leaving Alec alone in the room with his very ill and unconscious father.

Alec had seen his father in a lot of ways — some good, some bad, but he’d never seen him like this. The older man was pale and clammy and yet somehow looked peaceful. This illness was like nothing the town had ever seen before. Their doctors had been completely stumped...the first few symptoms had appeared — loss of appetite, attention, and other cognitive abilities that soon gave way to fever. The fever never broke and eventually, the patient lost consciousness. They were slowly wasting away into nothing.

Except not quite. They’d realized that the first few patients never got worse in that way that they did when their ancestors had the wasting disease caused by bad fruit. Instead, their body almost seemed to be turning to stone. And that was frighteningly new and uncharted waters.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t come sooner,” he whispered as he touched the back of his hand gently to his father’s head. The fever was still there and his skin felt all too brittle. “But I promise I will do whatever is in my power to find a way to fix this.”

“We’re glad you’re finally here, Alec,” a voice said, pulling him from his reverie to turn to the door. “We tried to do the best that we could but...neither Izzy nor I are you, and Maryse just wants to keep doing that thing where she insists there’s no problem at all and it’s business as usual.” Jace closed the door quietly behind him and pulled his brother into a hug.

“Do you guys know anything? Mom’s letter was…” His voice trailed off as he searched for more polite words.

“Entirely lacking?” Jace supplied for him. “Unfortunately, nothing solid. They all seem to have fallen ill at around the same time. There are eleven total and they were all fairly recently on a patrol of the borders. We’ve hired sorcerers from the city, hedge witches, even a psychic or two, but no one can find anything wrong with them. They’re just...asleep. Asleep but slowly turning to stone it seems. We’ve got people digging through old books in the archives but no one has turned up anything even remotely similar to whatever this is.”

Alec wasn’t a doctor — he was, in fact, the farthest thing from one. Isabelle knew infinitely more than he did when it came to medicine. What he lacked in knowledge, he made up for in stubborn determination and his ability to think around a situation. If he wanted to find a possible cure for whatever was ailing the townspeople, he’d have to think outside of the proverbial box. “I’ll do what I can,” he said after a moment, giving his father’s unconscious form one last look before stepping into the hallway with Jace at his heels. “I’m not a miracle worker.” But he’d be damned sure he’d try to be one.

“I’ve got to get back. I just wanted to see you before you passed out or Maryse got to you first,” Jace replied, squeezing his shoulder and heading down the stairs towards the front door. “Good luck in there — she’s been… particularly Maryse since Robert took ill.” That fact didn’t surprise Alec at all. His mother had never dealt with change very well.

She was waiting for him in his father’s office, exactly where he had expected her to be. “Close the door behind you, Alec. What I’ve got to say need not fall on nosy ears.” He knew she was referring to Isabelle and her endless curiosity. While he didn’t necessarily agree with his mother’s request, he did oblige. “Take a seat.” She gestured towards a chair in front of the desk — one that Alec had distinct memories of sitting in any time he’d gotten in trouble when he’d been younger and had been called in front of his father. Alec chose the farther seat instead, ignoring the judgemental look that he received.

“As no cure has been found nor diagnosis made and your father’s condition is only getting worse, we need to prepare for the worst.” She pushed a yellowed document across the desk and Alec took it, scanning the page quickly before realizing what he was holding in his hand.

“This is his will,” he stated simply, his fingers glossing over the page as he quickly read through it. It didn’t look like it had been written recently. His mother nodded her head in confirmation.

“He’s been preparing for the worst. He’s already a few years older than your grandfather and your great-grandfather were when they died… and there have been stirrings on the borders. He was afraid that the men would be called to war any day now.” Alec frowned at that. He hadn’t heard of anything going on that would signal the start of a war. Sure, Idris wasn’t a big town but if war was truly coming, he assumed someone in his family would have told him.

“Oh, don’t give me that. There hasn’t been anything truly substantial. Some whispers, some unrest, but nothing more than that. Robert has been...unwell for a while now. He’s grown...paranoid. He had his will drawn up shortly after you left.” Her stoic facade had broken now and Alec could count on one hand the number of times that he’d seen his mother look truly lost.

“It was his idea to say yes when you asked to go to college in the city,” she continued, holding out her hand for him to return the will. “He thought getting out of here would keep you safe and if you were safe there would be someone to take over when he was gone. That’s what he really wanted and I’m sorry Alec, I know you’re enjoying your time at The Institute studying law but the family needs you here now.”

He wanted to argue. Angel, how he wanted to argue with her. He had had to fight tooth and claw to get them to even consider letting him into the city to further his studies. The Lightwoods had been here for generations and not a single one of them had ever left. This was home or at least it should be. Alec had always felt more alienated than most for reasons he tried to keep to himself.

So while yes, he knew that he should fight and argue and insist that he deserved to go back to the city because he had fought so damn hard for it in the first place, he knew that right here, right now… his argument would fall flat. The very best thing he could do was study and beg and plead and crawl through whatever hell he needed to to find a cure for this illness. When his father was well again and his father wanted him safe, he’d have a better chance of getting out of here once more. “Of course, mother, anything for the family,” he replied, trying to keep his voice level. “I’ll get to work at once.”

She sighed, obviously expecting more of a fight out of him and now not really sure how the rest of the conversation was going to go. “No, not at once. You’ve only just arrived and I’m sure you are exhausted. Besides, you’re still dripping on the mahogany floors. Go change before you ruin the antique wood, and say hello to your sister. She’s been waiting for you to get here.”

Alec didn’t bother with a response, simply turning on his heel and heading towards the stables — where he knew his sister would inevitably be hiding. The rain was starting to slow but Alec didn’t want to get even wetter if he could avoid it so he jogged across the cobblestones and pushed open the barn door.

Isabelle was, as expected, at the end of the aisle, illuminated by the grey hues of the rainy weather outside. She raised her whip above her head and snapped it towards a lone bottle on the rail with a loud crack. Alec continued to watch in silence for a few more moments as she set the bottle back up and went again. Finally, he let out a slow clap and watched as she tensed, relaxing once again when she realized who had interrupted her practice session.

“Good job,” he said, opening his arms to allow her to dash across the room to give him a hug. “You’re getting better at that. I dare say you might even be an expert.”

She snorted, her face buried in his shoulder as the two continued to hug. “Try telling that to mom. She still thinks it isn’t proper and that I should focus on finding myself a husband from a nice family. ‘Leave the weapons to your brothers, Isabelle. Men don’t want a wife who can beat them in a sword fight,” she mocked in a very good imitation of Maryse Lightwood.

“Ignore her. Any man you find would be lucky to have you. Besides, if you stopped, who would be my competition?” Alec asked, taking a step back so that he could look down into her eyes. “I’d have to practice with Jace and you know how he is...he—”

“Cheats,” she interrupted with a sniffle. “Yeah, I know. He hasn’t gotten any better, either. Still just as cocky, still a bad liar, and still telegraphs his moves.” She put the bottles back on the shelf and began to coil her whip back up. “He missed you, you know. I do too...and Max. It’s just not the same without you here.”

Alec knew that Isabelle knew exactly why he’d needed to leave. He also knew that she didn’t blame him, but the Lightwood siblings had always been close. He missed not being able to see them more than once a year.

“Mom’s been...harder since Dad got sick. She’s worried, we can tell, but she’s trying to continue as if it’s business as usual and you know how she is when she gets stressed,” Isabelle sighed. Alec knew all too well. Maryse tended to meddle in her children’s lives far more than was necessary.

That had, in fact, been the final straw for Alec. His mother had been dealing with some Idris politics and had decided to kill two birds with one stone. She’d set Alec up with a nice young girl from the village to strengthen the Lightwood family name and had given herself something to take her mind off the stress from work.

Alec had nearly ended up married.

Nearly. Luckily, Jace and Isabelle had stepped up to argue about Alec’s choice and happiness. The wedding had descended into chaos and Alec had set out for the city the next day under the guise of studying law.

“Come on,” he said after a moment, throwing his arm around her shoulder and pulling her back in for a quick hug. “Let’s head back inside. I want to change into something dry and I’ve yet to see Max. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see me.”

----------

Dinner was a quieter affair than Alec expected from a Lightwood family dinner. Without Robert there to judge them, his conversation with his siblings was light and easy. Jace and Isabelle caught him up on town gossip. Max tried to add his two cents when he could but the conversation strayed towards more adult topics like who was marrying who and what the Council had recently decreed.

“Mom says she’s going to send me to boarding school in the fall,” Max stated when there was a break in conversation. “I don’t want to go. I’ll have to wear a scratchy uniform and get up early and it’ll be so far away. I want to be like Jace and fight monsters!”

“Max, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Maryse replied with a glare. “The Carstairs Academy is a lovely school. They’ll teach you manners, for one thing. You’ll learn math, science, and history. You’ll be going to a proper school — like Alec. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

The little boy grimaced. “I don’t want to be like Alec...no offense. I want to kill dragons and fight trolls like Jace.”

“It’s less dragons and trolls and more about upset fathers and a fast horse, little man,” Jace replied, getting a smack on the back of the head from Isabelle. “What? It’s true.”

“That’s enough — apparently, none of my children have manners. Max, it’s past your bedtime. It’s time to let the adults talk.” Max looked about to argue but one look from Maryse had him pushing in his chair and shuffling out of the room. Once they heard the door upstairs shut with an audible thud, she turned her attention back towards her other children. “I’ll be leaving before the sun rises. I’m heading to Alicante tomorrow to seek help from the king. I’ll start in town, we’ll leave two days after that. I’ll be gone as long as it takes to make our case.”

Alec’s fork clattered to his plate. “What? You’re just leaving? Dad’s already indisposed and you’re just going to leave the town without any sort of leadership? You’re going to leave us here alone?” He was well aware that his parents had made some stupid decisions in the past but this had to be one of the stupidest that he’d heard.

“The rest of the Council is still in town, Alec, and in case you have forgotten, I brought you back. We’ve tried everything to cure this and nothing is working. We’re losing more people to this cursed disease each day. We’ve got to try something. Pleading our case to the king and hoping for assistance is all we’ve got left.”

Alec picked up his fork and said nothing in response. He was sure the anger was coming off him in visible waves. “I’m not going alone, Alec,” his mother said after a moment, choosing not to start an argument and stating the facts instead. “Two of your father’s men will be going with me. We’ll only be gone a couple of weeks. With luck, we return with a cure.”

----------

Much later that evening, well after dinner had finished and his mother and siblings had gone off to bed and he’d had time to cool off, Alec found himself in the library staring at shelf after shelf of books that his family had collected over the years. His mother was certain that they’d already exhausted every possible option they had for a cure here, but Alec had never been one to give up that easily.

There had to be something in the thousands of books that they had here — even if it was just a footnote in some ancient text.

Angel, where would he even start?

He walked past the first shelf and ran his fingers gently over the spines of the books, taking in the titles as he did.

A Brief History of Idris, Recipes From the Coast, Nursery Rhymes and Other Tales, The Art of Breaking a Horse…

There was no rhyme nor reason to how anything here was shelved and he wished he was back in Alicante where he had a card catalog to reference at the very least. This could be a futile effort… but he had promised that he’d try, so try he shall.

He pulled the first book off the shelf — A Brief History of Idris —- and flipped to the first page. It was written by one of his ancestors; a Lightwood whose name he didn’t recognize. Maybe, with luck, that Lightwood had stumbled across something — anything — all those years ago that could help him now.

He could hope, at least.

Two hours later, he’d scanned quickly through the book and found it to be completely useless. He’d learned exactly nothing. The ‘brief history’ had been exactly what every child in Idris learned in school. He pushed himself off the chair he’d settled in and placed the book on the shelf. He could skip the cookbook — the likelihood of him finding a cure in that wasn’t high — before he moved on to the next one. Nursery Rhymes.

He meant to skip that one too but as his hand hovered over it, he realized that many myths and legends were often based in fact. It couldn’t hurt to give it a try. At the very least it wouldn’t take him long to read.

Most of the rhymes and stories were useless — schoolyard songs or bedtime stories — but tucked away at the end of the book was one that seemed a bit out of place. This was a longer poem with far more complicated words than the rest of the book. He frowned and glanced at the title.

The Goblin Market.

What?

Alec of course knew of the goblins who lived in the woods — all children in Idris were taught about them. The goblins were dangerous and would kidnap and eat children if they strayed too far into the woods. They used to be friendly with the townspeople but a war broke out and that relationship had ended. The goblins had secluded themselves in the woods — keeping their magic to themselves — and the people of Idris stayed in town and imported anything they needed from the neighboring cities.

It wasn’t an ideal situation but it was the one that they’d come up with quickly, and no one had ever seen fit to try and fix it.

The poem followed the story of two sisters who had heard the goblins crying in the middle of the night as they were trying to sell their fruits. One of the sisters tried what they were offering and fell ill when they returned home. She became listless and began to fade away. Her sister tried to save her and returned to the goblin market to obtain another fruit which she brought home and fed to her sister. The sister was cured and both girls lived happily ever after.

Alec frowned. That was similar to what the town was experiencing now… but the poem mentioned nothing about the sister turning to stone. After all the warnings about venturing into the woods that were drilled into them when they were little, surely none of the men who had fallen sick had been stupid enough to go to the goblins to try and trade.

He sighed and glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room to find that three hours had passed since he’d been in here and it was now well after 2 in the morning. He should retire to his room to get a few hours of sleep before he had to wake up but...perhaps he had time for one more book.

Instead of putting the nursery rhyme book back on the shelf, he pushed it off to the corner of the table. Worst case he’d put it back later. There was no harm in leaving it out for now.

He walked back to the shelf and skipped over the book on horse training. The very next one was titled Herbal Remedies of Our Ancestors.

Finally. That was more like it.

----------

When his sister pushed open the door to the library the next morning, Alec jumped. He glanced at the clock and found that nearly five hours had passed since he’d pulled the book of herbal remedies off the shelf and began reading.

A few pages in, he’d pulled a sheet of paper out from the desk and had begun taking notes. One sheet had turned into two, which had quickly turned into far more than that.

There were so many plants that had been used to treat common illnesses when people weren’t so reliant on modern medicine or the magic from the sorcerers found in the cities.

Catnip for recovery from colds. St. John’s Wort for inflammation. Marigold for skin diseases.

It was a start.

Isabelle came up behind him and glanced over his shoulder with a frown. “That’s a lot of plants you’ve written down. I’m sure the hedge witch tried at least some of them. It’s not like we have a stock of these. Where do you expect to find Elderberry without a day’s ride out of Idris and a day’s ride back? We don’t really have that sort of time.”

He hadn’t considered that.

But perhaps there was a solution.

He glanced out of the window and a plan began to form in the back of his mind.

“I’ll have to visit the woods,” he said after a moment, grabbing the two books and his stack of papers and heading back to his room. He needed to prepare if he was venturing into the unknown.

“Alec! You can’t go into the woods. You know that we’ve all been banned from there. It isn’t safe!”

“I know, Izzy. Trust me, I know, but right now this is the only idea we’ve got to try to save our father and the rest of the people who have fallen sick; unless you’ve got a better idea that you’d like to share?” She remained silent and Alec shook his head. “I’ve got to get ready. Tell Jace to find me if he hasn’t left already and can you saddle Flame?”

She looked like she wanted to say more but eventually relented with a shake of her head. Alec watched her go with a sigh. He knew she was right — heading into the woods was a stupid and reckless idea at best...but it was one he had to try.

He quickly got dressed and grabbed a satchel from his closet. He’d leave the books here, just in case, but he needed a way to carry the list of plants he wanted to collect...as well as any plants he may actually find.

What else did he need to take?

He dashed down the stairs and into his father’s office, thanking the small miracle of his mother heading into town early this morning. Map...he probably needed a map. He rifled through the desk and found one tucked away at the back of a drawer. It was old but it would have to do. After all, no one had been in the woods in years. This was probably the most recent map they had.

Alec looked around, trying to figure out if there was anything else in here he’d need as Jace knocked on the door. His brother frowned at Alec’s frantic state. “Isabelle says you're going into the woods to pick some flowers? Come on, Alec, that’s a stupid idea. We can’t risk losing you too.”

“I know, Jace. I’ll be safe and I’ll be back by nightfall. I won’t push myself unnecessarily today but you know that everything that has been tried hasn’t worked. I came back to try and help with finding a cure, and I’m willing to give this a shot.”

Jace sighed, “What can I help with? Izzy said you needed to see me.”

“I need you to stay here… and I need some weapons. Have you seen my bow recently?” He hadn’t taken it with him when he’d moved to Alicante — he only hoped that his siblings had hidden it and that his parents hadn’t done the unthinkable.

“You’re sure about this?” Jace asked as Alec nodded. “Alright...then I’ll get it and meet you outside.”

Isabelle was waiting with Flame’s reins in her hand. The chestnut thoroughbred stamped his feet impatiently, unhappy to be standing still as long as he had been. Jace joined them with Alec’s bow and a small collection of knives a few moments later.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” the blond muttered, handing Alec’s weapons to him one by one before holding the horse steady so that Alec could mount. “Reckless is my style, not yours.”

“I’ll stay close to home. I’ll be on my guard. You’ve crossed through the woods a time or two and lived to tell the tail. I may have moved to the city, Jace, but I’m not inept. Remember who taught you.”

“Oh, trust me, you never let me forget it. Just be careful, alright? There are supposed to be some things in those woods that would frighten even me.” Alec tilted his head in response and spurred his horse on towards the woods. He’d stick to the trail as long as he could, but instead of veering left and heading into town, he’d take the worn deer trail through the trees.

He reminded himself that he would take any chance at saving his people and his family — even if it meant venturing into the deep woods and confronting the dangerous creatures that were said to live inside.

When he said he’d try anything — he meant it in every sense of the word. He still didn’t entirely believe the myths and legends of the goblin men that were said to inhabit Edom Forest but the town’s elders seemed to believe they did truly exist and Alec was certain no one had thought to go to the monsters for a solution.

He’d told Jace and Isabelle of his intentions, but instead told his mother that he was heading into town. It wasn’t entirely a lie. He’d had to cross the bridge that would lead him to Idris before he’d reach the path that would take him off the road and into the forest. When the cobblestones ended, he was faced with an overgrown dirt path that seemingly led to nowhere. He pulled Flame to a brief halt and quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed before clicking him on and making his way into the woods.

His first impression of Edom Forest was that it wasn’t anything spectacular. He rode for two hours and noticed that the trees were like any other trees, the birds like any other birds, and there were certainly no trace of goblins in sight. He was beginning to think he’d been tricked by children’s tales when a scrap of color flapping in the wind caught his attention. He brought his horse to a halt.

It was a scrap of purple cloth with texture that Alec had never seen before. He’d never seen anyone in the town wearing anything this color either, as purple dyes tended to be expensive. If they were in the city, sure, but not here in Edom Forest. He left it fluttering where it was tied on the branch as he noticed another piece a little further down the path. If he strained his eyes, he could see a third splash of purple past that.

He had no way of knowing who had left these markers here or for what reason, but right now this was his best lead to finding the goblins in the woods. And like he kept telling himself, he was willing to try anything.

He could be met with swords,traps or wild animals. The goblins themselves might make an appearance. His people had no knowledge of what existed this deep into the woods outside of old wives’ tales and cautionary tales for children. Who knew what he would come across?

He took a deep breath and nudged his horse forward. The gelding hesitated for a moment — feeding off Alec’s own growing unease — before taking a few slow steps in the direction he’d been pointed towards, his head high and eyes wide the entire time.

Alec had certainly been expecting to find something after following the trail of purple scraps. What he hadn’t been expecting to find was a stray horse who was calmly grazing under a tall, oddly shaped Ash tree without a human in sight.

The stallion was solid black and soaking wet, like he’d been ridden hard despite the lack of tack or rider around him. Alec gently jumped from his horse’s back and took a few slow steps forward hoping that he didn’t spook the animal. “Whoa, boy. It’s alright.” He held his hand out gently and let the horse take a cautious sniff. “Surely, you aren’t out here alone.”

The horse’s nose touched the back of Alec’s hand gently. Alec took a moment to look him over. He was small...around 14 hands if he had to guess, and not much bigger than Max’s pony. There wasn’t a lick of white on him, and while his mane and tail were wet and slightly tangled, the rest of him was in good condition. The pony didn’t look like he’d been living rough — so he’d either just escaped or had dumped his rider and somehow escaped his tack. “Where’s your person? I can’t leave you out here like this.”

The horse huffed and nosed at Alec’s pockets. “Hey now, that’s enough. I didn’t exactly come out here prepared to take in a stray. I was looking for something else. I don’t suppose you’ve seen any goblins have you?”

“He likes you.” The voice that came from above startled Alec, and he took a step back from the mysterious horse to glance upwards. There was a man sitting on a thick branch about halfway up. With the sun behind him, Alec couldn’t see little more than that. The voice sounded amused though, and Alec had to wonder what the mystery man was doing this deep into the woods.

“How can you tell?” It was a stupid question, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop himself before the words had passed his lips. He should be asking for a name or providing his, not asking why the horse liked him. Not the smartest thing, he thought to himself.

“He hasn’t eaten you yet,” The man jumped gracefully to a lower branch before performing an elaborate flip for a dismount and landing steadily on his feet. “Kelpies have unusually sharp teeth, a taste for flesh and blood, and an attitude that would give even the haughtiest of lords a run for their money.”

Alec instinctively took a step back, which didn’t seem to phase the horse — kelpie, apparently — who continued to search Alec’s pockets for some sort of snack. “He doesn’t look like a kelpie.” As far as he was aware, kelpies weren’t real. Even if they were, the books said they were supposed to have seaweed in their manes and tales, backward hooves, and razor sharp teeth. This looked like a small, lightly built riding pony.

“And how many kelpies have you actually seen? They wouldn’t be very effective hunters if you could see what they are before they strike.” The other man replied, patting the horse on the shoulder affectionately. “I’m Magnus Bane. And who are you, handsome stranger?”

“Alec.” Now that the sun wasn’t casting a silhouette behind him, Alec could get a better look at the man. He was shorter than Alec, though his heeled boots gave him some height. His skin was the color of honey, his hair was dark with a streak of blue through it, and his eyes…

Alec lost himself in Magnus’ eyes. They were golden with slit pupils...quite like the cats that hung around the barn. And they were enough to tell Alec that the man wasn’t human — no human would have eyes like that.

“You’re a goblin,” Alec stuttered. The books hadn’t really said what the goblins looked like. He vaguely recalled something about a cat’s face and a rat’s tail...or was it furry and like a snail? Humans didn’t have cat’s eyes, though. Even if Magnus weren’t a goblin, he was certainly something different; and that was maybe, just maybe, another avenue that Alec could try for a possible cure.

It was only after he had these thoughts that he wondered if he should worry about his own safety. His hand went to the knife on his belt before he’d realized it.

Magnus hummed, watching the realization cross Alec’s face before he laughed. “Not quite. I’m only half. My father is but my mother was a mere human. Nothing goblin about her. In fact, if I had to guess she was from your town. Idris, am I right? Though, this was quite some time ago, well before you were ever around, pup.”

“How did that happen? And my name is Alec, not pup.” As far as Alec was aware, the goblins stayed deep inside the forest and the people of Idris were told to avoid them. They hadn’t actually been seen in years. Many of the younger people thought they were nothing more than a myth. Alec certainly hadn’t believed in them. Until now, that was. It was hard not to believe when reality was staring you in the face with cat’s eyes, a wisp of blue hair, and a sharp look.

“How do you think?” Magnus replied, fishing around in his bag for an apple. “‘We must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits, who knows upon what soil they fed, their hungry thirsty roots.’ That’s how it went...I think. It’s been a while since I’ve read it. Books aren’t exactly easy to come by out here.” He took a bite and held the rest out towards the kelpie.

“I’m sorry, that was a stupid question.” Alec knew which poem Magnus was referencing. He had run across the poem during his research but he’d passed it over as nothing more than a cautionary tale for children. Maybe he should have paid more attention.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it...and you didn’t know any better. How many dashing half-goblins have you ever met in your life?” Magnus winked and Alec felt a blush rise across his face.

“You’d be the first.”

“And what are you doing out in the middle of the woods looking for goblins, my lord? Aren’t you humans warned of the dangers you could find? I’m pretty sure that poem specifically mentioned all the terrible things that could happen to a fair maiden.”

Alec snorted, and continued to rub his hand down the kelpie’s nose. “Well, for one I’m not a fair maiden, nor am I a lord actually, and to answer your question: I was hoping to hunt down a lead on the illness that’s currently plaguing the village.”

“And you think the goblins are to blame?” Magnus’ voice had been playful before, but now his words took a cutting tone.

“No, of course not,” Alec replied hastily, holding up his hands in surrender. “We’ve co-existed, sort of, for a while now. As far as I know, nothing has changed in that regard. I’m just…” he sighed and glanced back towards the direction he knew his parents’ house to be. “I’m hoping for answers, I’m willing to try anything at this point. They’ve called physicians from the city, a psychic or two, a hedge witch...the people who have fallen ill are good people. They don’t deserve what’s befallen them. I found a book in our collection last night. It’s got some herbs in it...so I made a list. I’m no expert but it can’t hurt to try.”

He chose to leave out that some of those people were only mostly good — his father certainly wasn’t the best man, but there was no reason Magnus needed to know that. Not yet.

“I haven’t heard of a disease in the village, but I wouldn’t go looking towards the goblins for a cure. They aren’t the most helpful of people — they’re more liable to cause you harm than anything close to help.” Magnus tapped his finger against his chin in thought. “An illness you say? You humans are susceptible to so many things. There was a plague about a hundred years ago if I recall. What makes you think it isn’t something like that?”

“Well, for one thing no one has actually died,” Alec replied as Magnus circled him slowly, feeling every bit like a deer cornered by a leopard. “It starts with a fever. Eventually, confusion. Finally, they fall into a deep sleep. And…” His voice trailed off. That did make it seem like a normal illness but Alec knew there was more.

“And?” Magnus had stopped circling him to lean against the tree with his arms crossed.

“Their skin gets hard. It feels almost like stone? I know that probably sounds stupid. I just don’t know how else to explain it.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” the half-goblin replied. “Magical illnesses can have all sorts of weird side effects. A friend of mine once turned prickly.” There was a pause as he looked Alec over once more.“You said you had a list?” Magnus asked finally, pulling on a purple tailcoat that had been discarded haphazardly behind the tree. “Can I see?”

Alec pulled it out of his bag and handed it over to him. “You’d help me find these? You think this might be caused by magic?”

“Magic, a curse, anything is possible but if you’ve tried as many cures as you say you have then it’s probably safe to assume that it’s something your people haven’t seen before. Ergo, magic.” Magnus read over the piece of parchment with a frown. “Some of them are out of season and others aren’t in this part of the woods but I can show you where to find the majority.” He glanced around before a smile crossed his face that had Alec’s heart flipping. The half-goblin bent down and plucked a small purple and yellow flower from the ground in front of Alec. “Heartsease. Kiss-Me-Quick. Banewort...also known as a wild pansy. It’s good for skin conditions and colds. I believe that’s on your list.”

Alec felt a blush rise in his cheeks as he took the flower. Why on earth was being handed a single flower by a strange (but beautiful) man he just met affecting him this way? “Thanks,” he managed to stammer after a moment. He gently wrapped the flower in a cloth and placed it in his bag.

Magnus’ eyes twinkled as he grabbed a lock of the kelpie’s mane and hoisted himself on it’s back. “I saw some Meadowsweet earlier this morning. It isn’t far and I wouldn’t mind collecting some myself. It’s good for pain.” He glanced back at Alec with a raised eyebrow. “Are you coming?”

Alec had never mounted a horse faster in his life.

----------

“Do you even know what you plan on doing with these?” Magnus asked as they wove their way through a dense and varied forest.

“The book had some suggestions,” Alec started, frowning as they passed by a group of trees with large, bell-shaped yellow flowers. “Though I’m by no means an expert. I went to school for architecture, not herbalism.” He pulled his horse to a halt and reached out to touch one of the flowers that was now hanging eye-level with him. “I’m sorry — is this Angel’s trumpet? I thought it only grew in the tropics.”

Magnus laughed. “Or Devil’s trumpet, depending on who you ask, and I wouldn’t mess with it. It’s not exactly safe. Well, it’s not necessarily poisonous to touch but I still wouldn’t mess with it. It's hallucinogenic, among other things...and I don't think a bad trip was really what you had in mind when you came out here today.”

“And how’s it growing in the middle of Edom Forest? If it’s that dangerous I would feel much better if it grew far, far away where the weather is much more suited to it?” He nudged Flame until he was level with the kelpie.

Magnus merely laughed. “That’s the beauty of magic, my dear Alexander. There’s no rhyme nor reason to it. Anything can happen.” He raised his hand as blue sparks danced around his fingertips. “Haven’t you ever noticed that it never snows in the woods? You’ll have three feet out there and yet, not a flake falls here. It’s warm and sunny year round.”

As he said that, Alec realized that he hadn't noticed. He’d never paid much attention to the woods since they were forbidden to go there, but it wouldn’t take a genius to see that the weather was entirely different a few feet away.

“Don’t look too distressed,” Magnus chuckled upon seeing the face that Alec was making. “There’s all sorts of spells and old magic around. Spells that grew into the very trees, wards set by goblins past and re-set by goblins present...other magical creatures whose very existence spells safety to those who live around them. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been purposefully trying to look through the magic. The Look-Not spells surrounding the woods are strong.”

Wait, Alec thought as he kicked his horse into a trot to catch up with Magnus and the kelpie. “What other magical creatures? I thought it was just the goblins that lived in the woods? Well, I guess the goblins and the half-goblins.”

“It may have started with the goblins but it certainly didn’t end with them.” Magnus stopped a moment later, sliding off the back of his horse to kneel in front of a grassy plant with yellow flowers. “Toadflax. This was on your list as well, I believe. It’s good for treating rashes and the like. You make it into a compress using milk. I hope the specifics are in your book. This is more my friend’s area of expertise than mine.” He handed the flower to Alec who wrapped it gently in more white cloth and placed it in his bag.

“What’s your area of expertise then? And you still haven’t answered my question. What other creatures?”

“My area of expertise is magic itself, of course. I’m uniquely qualified to be good at magic,” Magnus replied as butterflies made of blue energy danced around them.

“And what makes you qualified?” Alec asked, crossing his arms. “Are all goblins this cryptic?”

Magnus laughed, “I’m not being cryptic, I’m being coy...and I can’t tell you all my secrets on the first date — no matter how pretty you are.”

Alec huffed as another blush rose on his cheeks. “This isn’t a date...but fine, how about you elaborate on the other magical creatures thing then? I don’t like finding out that everything I’ve ever known about a place is false.”

The goblin studied him for a moment before he nodded. “Very well. Once we put the spells and the wards up to stop the needless death that was happening at the time, humans were driven to stay away. It was the only thing that we could do to keep ourselves safe without being driven out of our home. Because we were now safe from humans, the other creatures that were hunted for merely being creatures of magic began to take refuge here as well.”

Magnus chose not to mount back up so Alec slid from his horse’s back as well. They walked in silence for a moment before the half-goblin turned around. “Actually, it’s quite curious that you got through. You should have wanted to turn tail as soon as you got too close.”

“I was uncomfortable,” Alec said after a moment, recalling the sense of dread that had washed over him before he’d guided his horse off the path. “But I’d do anything to help my family...even if that means taking a risk I’m not necessarily meant to take.”

Magnus had stopped again, this time in front of a fluffy, white, flowering weed. “The promised Meadowsweet. It’s typically made into a tea or an elixir. Pick your poison. Well, not poison but I’m sure you catch my meaning.”

Alec collected a few of the flowers as Magnus did the same. “I’m not sure that tea is going to do much good when the patients are unconscious.”

“You’ll have to try one thing at a time. Maybe treat the symptoms first until you have a better idea of the root cause...perhaps you’ll get lucky and by treating one you’ll learn more about another. Medicine, like magic, is a lot of trial and error.”

“Well, I’m certainly willing to try,” Alec said after a moment. He threw his bag over his horse’s withers and pulled himself into the saddle once more. “I seem to be the only one left willing to try. Everyone else seems to have given up. They’re getting ready to petition the king for some kind of miracle.”

Magnus hummed as he pulled himself onto the back of his own horse. “Well then, I suppose we better find a few more for you to try. It sounds like you don’t have any time to lose.”

Alec followed the half-goblin dutifully all afternoon, trying to remember each and every instruction he was given as he was handed plant after plant. Finally, the sun began to duck behind the treetops and Alec grimaced. “I best be getting back. If I don’t return before dark, my brother will send a search party. Trust me, we don’t want the kind of mess he tends to bring with him.”

“Fair enough,” Magnus replied with a smile. “I figured that would be the case. Your trail awaits, my lord.” He swept his arms towards the dirt path that Alec had taken when he’d first entered the woods this morning. He hadn’t even realized that they had circled back.

“Thank you for all your help today. I’m not certain I could have found any of these without you.” He probably wouldn’t have even managed to find one if Magnus hadn’t helped.

“It was no trouble at all — definitely an interesting way to spend an afternoon. The sight sure didn’t hurt either.” Alec blushed and Magnus plucked a single blue flower with a yellow star center off the ground and held it out to him.

“What’s this one supposed to do?” Alec asked as he took the flower and twirled it gently in his fingers.

“Absolutely nothing. I just think it’s pretty. Good luck playing doctor, Alexander.” With that, he turned his horse and trotted back into the woods, leaving Alec standing in the trail alone.

----------

My Dearest Cabbage,

I’ll preface this by saying that yes, I do know exactly what you’re going to say after reading my letter so I will save you the hassle of a fire message in response.

Yes, what I did was incredibly stupid and reckless. Trust me, I’m well aware but you know how I do so love a good enigma.

It seems some sort of mysterious and possibly magical illness is plaguing the citizens of Idris. They’ve apparently tried all sorts of methods to heal their sick to no avail.

No, I haven’t been taking a risky trip into the city. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson there. One of their people somehow managed to get through the protections and spells in the forest and came looking for plants that could potentially be used to treat the disease.

I have my doubts that any will work for him, but I sent him home with some regardless.

Could our wards be fading? No mere human should be able to pass over the border. We should meet sometime soon to check that the spells still hold strong. They are all that are standing between us and the people of Idris.

I’ll keep you advised if I receive any more information.

Delightfully yours,

M.B.

[carmenlire]

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 50 Epilogue Part II: 5 Years Later (Complete)

Amazing moodboard courtesy of @kindaresilient!

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Happily Ever After: Alec and Magnus Lightwood-Bane People Magazine

The two of them walk into the little pâtisserie that had been chosen for the morning’s interview. They’re alone and the easy affection is obvious in the way they hold hands, in how Alec kisses the top of Magnus’s head as the two laugh at some joke between them.

Watching them, the reporter tries to maintain her objectivity but she can admit it’s difficult. She’d first interviewed Alec years ago when he was a rising star and had just swept through his first awards season, winning four Grammys and considerably more household notoriety.

At the time, she’d been struck by the man who reveled in his image and single status. To see him today as one half of an incandescently happy couple-- and to know why they’re on the cover of next month’s issue-- is a bit surreal.

Still, Alec and Magnus sweep into the restaurant and it’s just a few minutes before she’s starting the interview.

“So,” she starts briskly. “What’s new?”

Alec and Magnus look at each other for a minute before laughing and turning back to face her.

“Oh you know,” Magnus replies airily. “We’ve just adopted the cutest twins in the world and that’s kept our focus fairly well.”

Shaking his head with a soft smile, Alec joins in, “That’s definitely the most exciting thing that’s happened to me-- hell, all year.”

Taking the cue, the reporter leans in a little. Her eyes gleam but it’s considerably friendlier than Alec had initially thought. She’s getting her scoop but there’s genuine interest there, too, and not just a need for the exclusive they’ve granted People.

“The internet had a meltdown last week when you posted that photo on Instagram of the two of you, each holding a baby. Did you anticipate that level of fervor?”

Alec’s mouth kicks up into a lazy grin as he relaxes back against his husband. “People don’t like change and even when they do like it, they want to be the first to know. That’s why we’re doing this. The babies are getting old enough to where we’ll want to take them out of the apartment and I wanted to face the world before we made that first step.”

“Our children’s privacy and safety is of the utmost importance to us. While this isn’t an invitation further into our lives, we had the discussion and it was equally important to be able to acknowledge and celebrate that our family had grown from two to four recently,” Magnus interjects.

“How recently?”

“The twins are seven months old and we adopted them the day they were born. It was finalized earlier this summer.”

“A lot of people were shocked to see that you two were officially parents. Had this been the goal all along or was it a more recent desire for a bigger family?”

“My brother Jace and his wife Clary had their first kid a couple of years ago. I was away from home as often as I was in the city back then and neither one of us had any thought of settling down. But then Jace asked Magnus and I to be godparents and it became an elephant in the room for a little while. Neither of us wanted to come out and say that we wanted kids but every time we babysat or talked about kids in general, it was fairly obvious we were thinking along the same lines.”

“I never really let myself think of the possibility of being a father,” Magnus says softly, flicking his gaze from Alec to the reporter. “I always joked that my students were my children and that I didn’t have time for kids of my own. Alexander was home for a few months on a break, however, and as we started babysitting regularly I think there was a sort of mutual realization that our goals had shifted. Alec was like a new father, anyway, with the way he was constantly researching how to care for a baby. It was as adorable as it was exasperating.”

"Hey," Alec cuts in indignantly. "I wanted to be prepared! I wanted my niece to be as comfortable and safe and happy as possible."

Humoring him, Magnus agrees, "You did. But it was also a sign that maybe we were both ready and eager for that next step."

Alec nods along.

“Yeah, there were a few hard discussions about how to make it work and if we really were ready but at the end of the day, I love Magnus and I want it all with him.” With a laugh that edges on self deprecating, Alec adds, “I’m very happy that he feels the same.”

“Of course, darling,” Magnus murmurs before raising their joined hands up to his mouth for a kiss.

It’s quiet for a moment and the reporter watches as Magnus and Alec share a look that feels intrusive to witness, no matter that they’re in public.

Clearing her throat a little, she diverts the conversation. “The last time you two were on our cover was four years ago when we were given exclusive access to your wedding in Florence. In that time, things have changed quite a bit for you, isn’t that right Alec? Fans and media have missed you as you’ve moved to a position behind the scenes of the music industry.”

Alec takes in the question lurking in her tone and crosses one leg over the other. Absently fiddling with his wedding ring, he answers her unasked query with a raised brow.

“I’m just as active on my social media as I’ve ever been with the exception of keeping quiet about our kids. While my role has shifted to producing and writing, I’m still very much an entertainer and artist. It’s just that I keep more regular hours and get to spend more time with Magnus these days.”

Humming thoughtfully, the reporter’s eyes sharpen as she bluntly asks, “Do you miss it?”

“Touring?” Alec chuckles, shaking his head in a wondering yet confident gesture. “It’s not like I’ll never go on tour again. I’m just enjoying this time now. It’s been wonderful to challenge myself in a new area of the industry and establishing Iratze Records has been a very rewarding, if grueling, process. I still perform a few times a year and that’s enough for me. It’s more than enough that I get to have the best of both worlds.”

"And what about you, Magnus. You last book landed on the New York Times Bestsellers list in the nonfiction category where it's still sitting at number one. Last fall you were brought onto an Emmy winning show as a historical consultant and that's not to mention your duties as the Chair of the Columbia University's history department. Do you two find it difficult to juggle caring for kids with your demanding careers?"

"It's hard work," Magnus allows but looking at him, it's hard to picture the man breaking a sweat over anything. "We work hard, every day, to be the best we can be-- the best partners, the best parents, the best professionals. It's exhausting but I wouldn't trade my life now for anything."

Alec grins and it's a little dopey at the corners as he looks over at his husband with his heart in his eyes. "What he said."

“You sound like the picture of a happily settled man, Alec. It’s hard to believe that at one time you were known as a sort of Lothario. Is it true what they say then?” There’s a glint of humor in her eyes as she asks, “Do reformed rakes make the best husbands?”

Magnus is quiet though he flashes a quick grin as he looks down at his wedding ring. It’s a simple band but is obviously well cared for. They both seem to be waiting for Alec to answer and Alec does so, but not before taking his husband’s hand and interlacing their fingers.

“I love Magnus more than anyone in the world,” he says, “And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. The truth is, if he asked me to give it all up today, right now, I’d do it, no hesitation.”

Alec glances over at his husband just to see Magnus already staring at him, smiling with eyes so warm that he can’t ever imagine being cold again.

“But I wouldn’t,” Magnus says softly, thumb stroking over Alec’s where they’re hands rest on his thigh.

“But he wouldn’t,” Alec echoes with a quiet smile. He forgets for a minute that they’re not alone, that there’s a journalist right on the other side of the coffee table watching them with eyes that capture everything.

He comes back to himself after a minute though, looking over at her with an apologetic grimace that the reporter waves away, her expression far from annoyed and instead veering much closer towards enamored.

Clearing his throat, Alec says, “The past five years have been one hell of a journey and I couldn’t imagine anyone else by my side other than Magnus. I’m grateful every day that I stepped into that diner in the middle of the night and that Magnus took a chance on me. This next adventure, kids? I never thought that was in the cards for me.”

His voice is self-deprecating as he continues, “I never thought any of this was meant for me. I’m excited, though-- we’re excited to grow our family by two more and be the best parents we can be, every day.”

The journalist’s voice is warm, curious as she asks, “So is it fair to say that Alec Lightwood is still at the top of his game, even if he’s more concerned with his family and producing behind the scenes these days?”

Alec’s voice is confident as he answers, “Yeah. I’ve never felt better. I’ve finally found my place and that’s worth all the sold-out stadiums in the world.”

Magnus scoffs a little, though his expression is anything but doubting as Alec raises their joined hands up to his lips, kissing his husband just above his wedding ring.

As the reporter watches her subjects, the can’t help but think that this is one of the easiest, most enjoyable interviews she’s ever done. She’s writes the conclusion of the article as she watches the couple in front of her act like the newlyweds they haven’t been in years.

Alec Lightwood’s been a staple of these pages since he was a teenager. It’s been a long time coming, but the boy is now a man and instead of the confirmed bachelor we’d started thinking of Lightwood as a few years ago, domestic bliss is his best look yet.

There’s an easy contentment to Alec now, as he sits beside his husband and they banter back and forth, easily answering our questions between little inside jokes that we have no hope of deciphering.

We don’t mind, though. It’s hard to when the couple sitting across from you looks nothing but ecstatically happy.

We can’t wait to see what’s next for Alec and Magnus and their growing family. Best of luck to the Lightwood-Banes. We’re sure this is far from the last time we’ll see them between our pages!

Make sure to check out Alec’s new single What a Heavenly Way to Die, available now on a variety of streaming platforms and wherever music is sold.