#the second hearing will be after bangkok pride

[pharawee]

An update on marriage equality in Thailand:

The Senate voted 147-4, with 7 abstentions, to approve the Marriage Equality Bill in its first Senate reading.

A 27-member committee has been set up to vet the Bill before the second and third readings.

The second reading is expected in July. [source: Thai Enquirer]

[Update] Before the voting, some senators commented against the bill. Apart from religious arguments opposing the bill by other senators, Senator Seri Suwanphanon stated that being attracted to people of the same sex and advocating for same-sex marriage is unnatural. However, he acknowledged that society has changed and there is a need to accept it.

Nonetheless, he expressed concerns that if same-sex couples were "allowed" to marry, their marriages might not last long, posing a potential problem for society. The senator suggested that a condition be implemented requiring same-sex couples to live together for six months before legally marrying each other.

Additionally, he voiced concerns about children conceived while their mothers were in heterosexual relationships but then decided to raise the child with a female partner after the breakup. However, he did not specify his concerns.

Still, the majority of the Senate had agreed to approve the bill's principles, and a committee, consisting of senators and representatives from the civil sector, was set up to vet the bill before the second reading.

Meanwhile, the 27-member committee responsible for vetting the bill is expected to consider new proposals, including raising the minimum age for marriage to 20 years old. The lower house had previously agreed that the minimum age should be 18. [Source: Thai Enquirer]

[khaifm]

                   lalisa   manoban.     she/her.     ciswoman.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   kannika   ‘khai’   benjawan   ,   most   likely   listening   to   good   news   by   megan   thee   stallion   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   five   year   old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -vitriolic   yet   +uninhibited   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   heart  shaped   chloé   sunglasses   on   the   end   of   her   nose   when   gossiping   ,   the   lingering   scent   of   her   perfume   long   after   she’s   gone   ,   pleated   mini   skirt   hems   brushing   high   against   plush   thighs   ,   and   soft   brown   eyes   that   make   you   fall   in   love   ,   followed   by   flowerbomb   nectar   by   viktor   &   rolf   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   taking   an   ex’s   vehicle   on   a   joyride   and   wrecking   it   after   they   cheated   on   her   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .

template   created   by   vampstuff   on   deviantart   .

                   name   :   kannika   benjawan   .   nicknames   :   khai   .   age   +   date   of   birth   :   25   +   october   29th,   1997   .   zodiac   :   scorpio   .   place   of   birth   :   bangkok   ,   thailand   .   current   residence   :   manhattan   ,   new   york   .   occupation   :   heiress   +   socialite   .   language(s)   spoken   :   english   ,   thai   ,   conversational   japanese   .   orientation   :   bisexual   and   biromantic   .   

𓏲 ·˚₊    𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

                    the   benjawan   family   ,   comprised   of   father   ,   mother   ,   and   daughter   .��  a   picturesque   family   worthy   of   a   vogue   cover   (   and   has   been   achieved   )   .   worthy   of   an   oil   painting   hanging   over   a   modern   fireplace   .   her   parents   ,   both   born   into   poverty   ,   raised   in   cramped   homes   with   too   many   family   members   and   with   ambitions   that   meant   being   the   best   of   their   peers   .   prasong   finds   solace   in   working   odd   construction   jobs   and   manages   to   lang   a   job   with   the   right   developer   at   the  right   time   .   chanthara   ,   hundreds   of   miles   away   ,   finds   her   calling   in   the   brightly   lit   department   stores   ,   wishing   for   better   solutions   to   the   beauty   that’s   advertised   .   both   have   ambitions   ,   ambitions   that   are   soon   fulfilled   and   they’re   the   pride   and   joy   of   their   respective   families   .

                  after   a   change   meeting   ,   a   whirlwind   romance   and   a   modest   wedding   ,   they’re   married   .   business   is   going   well   for   the   couple   ,   building   their   respective   brands   without   ever   accepting   any   adversaries   that   come   their   way   .   chanthara’s   desire   for   people   to   feel   beautiful   expands   as   she   becomes   pregnant   with   their   only   child   and   despite   the   unplanned   nature   of   the   pregnancy   ,   the   couple   are   overjoyed   .   first   comes   love   ,   then   comes   marriage   ,   here   comes   chanthara   and   prasong   with   a   fendi   baby   carriage   .   with   the   zeroes   adding   on   in   their   bank   accounts   ,   it’s   a   move   to   manhattan   at   thirteen   years   old   when   their   daughter   comes   into   her   own   .

                  with   access   to   funds   that   seem   never   ending   ,   as   a   naturally   gifted   student   academically   ,   socially   ,   and   athletically   ,   an   affectionately   nicknamed   khai  was   the   definition   of   an   ace   .   never   —   not   once   ,   did   her   mother   have   to   tell   her   to   straighten   her   back  .   to   be   the   most   sought   after   woman   in   the   room   .   to   command   respect   .   to   quote   mrs.   benjawan   ‘   my   khai   will   never   be   second   best   .   ’   oh   ,   how   right   she   is   .   khai   never   encounters   the   word   no   ,   often   casting   longing   gazes   until   someone   fills   her   time   ,   her   glass   ,   her   bed   with   their   presence   .   she   floats   on   a   cloud   reserved   for   herself   ,   silently   demanding   a   spectator’s   attention   as   if   a   princess   has   emerged   from   her   castle   .   have   you   heard   of   the   curse   ?

                   who   is   to   be   a   benjawan   without   experiencing   a   lapse   in   perception   ?   to   suddenly   have   a   fall   from   grace   that   has   you   spiraling   and   afraid   .   love   had   never   been   in   her   vocabulary   until   her   final   year   at   her   prestigious   high   school   .   it’s   whirlwind   ,   uttering   those   three   little   words   before   the   fourth   date   and   sharing   strawberry   milkshakes   at   the   plaza   hotel   .   three   months   in   and   like  a   scene   straight   out   of   your   favorite   horror   film   ,   melted   butter   pecan   ice   cream   drips   from   her   waffle   cone   and   down   her   knuckles   as   she   witnesses   her   first   love   love   another   woman   .   ‘   my   khai   will   never   be   second   best   .   ’   her   mother   echoes   .   she   vows   then   to   seduce   and   destroy   .   to   never   let   herself   be   vulnerable   (   let   alone   to   a   man   )   ever   again   .

𓏲 ·˚₊    𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘.

                    best   described   as   an   independent   woman   ,   as   the   better   version   of   a   popular   television   teen   who   thrives   on   manipulation   and   elitism   .   gets   what   she   wants   with   the   point   of   a   finger   and   the   bat   of   a   lash   .   has   a   strong   interest   in   people   .   jealousy   is   a   bitch   ,   but   they’re   best   friends   .   finds   comfort   in   the   swipe   of   another’s   credit   card  and  the   freedom   of   freeing   herself   from   their   sheets   before   her   spot   in   the  bed   has  a   chance   to   warm   .   would   easily   be   cast   in   a   theatre   production   if   her   theatrics   were   reserved   for   the   sage   and   if   there   were   tears   ,   she   wishes   for   them   to   be   diamonds   .

                  easily   burns   bridges   as   if   holding   the   match   .   don’t   start   a   habit   of   telling   her   no   and   gets   strangely   horny   for  confrontation   .   will   back   you   up   in   a   fight   even   if   you’re   wrong   ,   finds   pleasure   in   seeing   a   face   turn   red   and   will   never   hide   her   disgust   for   anyone   .   is   genuine   in   her   speech   and   has   facial   expressions   that   speak   before   she   opens   her   mouth   .   an   ice   cold   demeanor   that   has   been   completely   impenetrable   for   the   ghosts   of   a   lover’s   past   and   plans   to   keep   it   that   way   .

𓏲 ·˚₊    𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

follow  this  link  here  !

[nct-oli]

I actually wrote this before I wrote my two thinkpieces about Phupha and about Tian. When I wrote this post, I just wanted to get all of my initial thoughts out. I was super busy after watching the episode on Friday, and then I also felt like I needed to watch it a second time to properly absorb it all because WOW what an episode.

I still haven’t read anyone’s thoughts on the episode yet: no posts, no tweets, no DMs. I’ve read nothing. If I’m being honest, I’m actually kind of anxious to open the tags because I love the episode SO much that I’m afraid I’ll see negativity and it will ruin the joy that I’m feeling. So these are just my thoughts straight from my brain after two watches of the episode and a lot of time to process it all.

EARTH AND MIX HAVE THE MOST INTENSE CHEMISTRY I HAVE SEEN IN SO LONG. Quite frankly, I’m so proud of them both. Their emotional scenes were beautiful, and you could feel the intimacy, love, and care Phupha and Tian have for each other. Even when they were fighting, the chemistry was still so strong. You could feel how much love existed beneath the harsh words. They deserve awards for this one.

Those hospital scenes were absolutely phenomenal. Everything about them. I’m still processing them. (Also the scenes before them at Dr. Nam’s clinic... Tian falling asleep next to Phupha? Yeah, I didn’t survive that.)

Dr. Nam smiling at Tian falling asleep next to Phupha was 🥺 so cute. You can tell how much he genuinely cares about Phupha and wants to see him happy.

On that note though, I’m actually really glad Dr. Nam didn’t pressure Phupha into anything when it came to Phupha asking Tian to leave or not. I think that was a decision he had to make on his own, and while I’m not sure he made the right decision, I do think it was important that he decided on his own how he wanted to handle it.

Tian’s fucking father. I mean, I think we all feel similarly. I understand why he wants Tian safe, but at the end of the day, he’s strangling Tian. And him saying “I know my son well” while asking the man his son loves to essentially kick him out of the first place he’s felt happy and free REALLY kind of encapsulated their whole relationship, I think. He DOESN’T know his son... at all. He doesn’t know anything about him. He wrongly assumed everything regarding Tian’s intentions in the village and did not seem to grasp the joy and pride Tian had found in his new life.

Side note about Tian’s father though: he knew exactly where Tian was but didn’t consider Tian knew about Torfun??? He thought he CONVENIENTLY ended up in the same village as Torfun?? You’d think he’d have put two and two together.

I saw spoilers about Phupha knowing who Tian was and having connections with his father, so that didn’t surprise me personally when it happened. But I’m sure that was a 😦moment for many. I also think that’s why, when writing my post about Phupha, it wasn’t hard for me to see his motivations. I didn’t have any shock about it leaving this episode because I was expecting that reveal to come.

Khama 👏👏👏 his line about forgiving yourself was exactly what Tian need to hear. Even I needed to hear that. But Tian especially. The way you could visibly see and feel some of the weight he’d been carrying be removed as he processed the words Khama said to him?? Beautiful. I really felt that moment.

Phupha and Tian... COMMUNICATE, YOU DIPSHITS. They mostly got there eventually, with a very helpful nudge from Dr. Nam. But my god, those two. 😤😤😤

As I said in my other post, I understand Phupha’s reasoning behind all of this. I genuinely do, given his father, his fear of vulnerability, etc. Do I think he is behaving like a dumbass? Yes. Do I think Tian has behaved like a dumbass many times in this show also? Yes. So I’m not exactly upset with him. Just like... sigh, you big dummy.

These next three bullets I wrote before writing my post about Tian, so I’ll link that again here but these three last bullets here summarize my thoughts.

My wish for this series above anything else was that Tian would find purpose and love for himself. I am so grateful that this episode really honed in on that for him and focused on self-forgiveness, self-confidence, and self-care. Between Khama telling Tian it’s hardest to forgive yourself after an apology and Phupha insisting Tian live for himself now, they really focused on Tian coming to terms with his own guilt and facing it head on, with the help of the people who love him.

Following that, I hate how Tian’s father, Phupha, etc. consistently made decisions for Tian’s life, which is exactly what he was trying to escape from. And none of the characters doing it mean harm, but as always, Tian has people insisting they know best for him. No one trusts his ability to think for himself and make decisions in his own self interest despite him insisting he can.

Which is why I fully expect the finale will be about Tian finally choosing something for him. I think he’ll ultimately return to the village for HIMSELF. Not for Torfun. Not for Phupha. Not for anyone. Nor will he stay in Bangkok for his parents. I think he’ll use Phupha’s own words about living for yourself to justify his decision to return to his new home with his found family. “Tian, you need to worry about your own future now.” “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

I imagine there were mixed opinions about this episode, but personally, this was my favorite episode yet. I think so many of the moments felt so raw and open. Even when Phupha and Tian were fighting, the emotions were strong, because everything they feel for each other is strong, the good and the bad. I think Earth and Mix are incredible, and I think this series is being set up for a beautiful finale. I’m going to be HEARTBROKEN next week when it’s time to say goodbye.

[thelightofthebane]

I feel what you feel (and my heart got equally broken)

Summary: Alec snorted, too exhausted for fear. Of course. He really played himself. Asmodeus wouldn’t leave now, not when he had his claws in such a rich source of pain as Alec, not until he drained that source entirely dry. “You don’t care about Magnus’ wellbeing. You just want more pain, more fuel.”

Asmodeus’ crooked smile was all the confirmation Alec needed. “Poor child of Raziel. So naïve. This is only the beginning.” He closed the distance between them, crouching by Alec and leaning in close. “You know,” he said, “I received something very interesting along with Magnus’ powers. I think it’s only fair that I share it with you.”

Or, A bigger and more dangerous deal is made.

Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e18 The Beast Within, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel, A different deal, Asmodeus is the worst, self-sacrificing idiots

It was my first time attending the Malec Secret Santa, and I’m very satisfied with the result! This story is a gift to @mirrorofliterature, and was beta-ed by @silver-latin-and-salt. I hope you all enjoy! 

The original post is here.

You can also read here: ao3

“Mama!”

Alec blinked as the child ran past him, into the arms of a young woman with a warm, beautiful, and eerily familiar smile.

Alec watched, trying to place the woman’s resemblance, as she took the boy onto her lap and embraced him. She began to sing, the unfamiliar language spinning a lullaby.

Whatever the words meant, they only made the kid smile wider, beaming happiness.

Another blink, and the woman now lay bleeding on the bed, a dagger blossoming from her stomach. The boy gave a desperate scream, answered only by the furious shouts of a portly man who burst into the bedroom seconds later.

Realization settled over Alec as the boy turned on the man and hit him with an all-consuming ball of fire.

Magnus.

~*~

“I’ll restore both. His magic and his immortality.” Asmodeus smiled, his golden eyes flickering dangerously, and Alec had the unsettling feeling of being eyed as prey. ”However, there is a price for each. Despite how intertwined the two usually are, it is possible to have magic and not be immortal. Or, to be condemned to an eternity as a useless mundane. So, what do you choose, Nephilim?”

Alec willed his blank mask of an expression not to waver. A selfish part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Magnus would be okay with his magic alone, sacrificing only his immortality. Just for a moment, he dared to imagine it – a life with Magnus at his side, one where they could grow old together. No more fights about that damn box. No more fear of the pain Alec knew he’d leave behind when Magnus outlived him.

But even in the face of that temptation, Alec knew better. Fifty, sixty, seventy years were more than enough for a mortal like Alec, but for an immortal to be reduced to that… It wasn’t only the lack of magic tormenting Magnus, driving him to frenetic desperation and last night’s breakdown. Magnus didn’t want to grow old. He wanted to stay.

And who was Alec to deny him that?

“Both,” Alec said with a fearless fire in his eyes, although his insides couldn’t be colder. “What’s your price?”

“End your relationship.”

Alec blinked, taking several seconds to process that. “What?”

“You are the source of all his suffering. You make him vulnerable, weak. You are a disgrace to Magnus. With you, he can never reach his full potential.” Asmodeus punctuated each ’you’, a hammer slamming into Alec’s defenses. “You are not enough for my son. You never will be.”

Alec felt his lips tremble. He knew that, but… “You’re wrong. We love each other.” His voice was quieter now. “I wouldn’t just abandon him.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to be the death of him.”

“Magnus will never agree to it.”

“Don’t give him a choice. In fact, Magnus can never know about our little arrangement, or else our deal is off. Break his heart to save his life.”

That sparked something, and Alec frowned. “I’m the one making a deal, here. I should be the only one paying the price. Magnus has already suffered enough.”

“You’re right; but as I said, it’ll be double the price if you want me to return his magic and his immortality. The end of your relationship is but half of what I require – your part in our bargain will cover the rest.”

“And what is it you want from me?”

“Your pain. Your heart so irreparably broken, that your soul will also shatter.” Asmodeus’ voice was cold, though not enough to hide the entirety of his amusement. ”Tell me, Nephilim… do you know what fuels Edom? What fuels any of the hellish realms? How my kind feast on your petty mortal feelings? Anger, envy, lust, jealousy – those are delicious appetizers, to be sure. But sadness? Sorrow? Misery? Ah, the main dish.” He breathed deeply, a self-satisfied smile on his face and cat-eyes taking on a cruel shine. “You, Lightwood, will make a sumptuous banquet.”

And Alec felt only numbness. He always knew that this would be a dangerous game to play – the moment he had decided to talk to Asmodeus, all the possible scenarios had begun to unravel in his mind. He was prepared for the worst.

After all, what could be worse than letting Magnus go?

“Deal.”

~*~

Alec watched as Magnus laughed, chasing after the mundane girl and sweeping her up off her feet, spinning her round until she practically squealed with delight. Magnus was recognizable now, his face sculpted into his familiar adult features, but he still looked so… young, so carefree. He and the young woman turned to face each other, and then they were kissing, and Alec had to close his eyes, unable to face what he’d lost.

When he opened them again, he was standing in a cemetery. Magnus was a few feet away, hand placed gently on a headstone, head bowed.

As he turned to leave, Alec caught sight of his face, and almost shuddered to see the heartbreak etched there.

~*~

What have I done?

Alec punched the alley wall for the fifth time, his skin breaking and blood dripping from his knuckles. He could hear ugly sobs, and it took him a good few seconds to realize that they were coming from him. Good, he thought. Drive the pain out. Out. Out.

He still felt his heart clenching and it was suffocating him.

He broke Magnus’ heart.

He broke his own heart.

He needed to get out.

Another sob. Stop. Stop. Please, someone make it stop.

“Magnus, I’m sorry.”

He cried hard, falling to his knees. Magnus’ pained expression seemed imprinted under his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was his lover’s despair, all he could hear were his pleas. Fuck, he made Magnus beg. He wanted so much to go back and take Magnus in his arms, tell him that it was a mistake and that he didn’t care if Magnus still had that ‘spark’ or not. He loved Magnus for who he was, not what he had. Magic or not, immortal or not, he loved Magnus Bane for his heart.

A heart that Alec had destroyed.

“I fulfilled my part of our deal,” a voice echoed behind him. “Magnus has his magic and immortality back.”

“Fine. Go. What more do you want? I’ve already paid you,” Alec growled, feeling too weak to get up, but turning enough to glare at the Prince of Edom.

“You did,” Asmodeus nodded slowly, tilting his head a little as hard cat-eyes returned Alec’s glare, familiar but foreign. Asmodeus was incapable of the warmth and love in Magnus’ eyes, would always be a world away from that sort of kindness and beauty. “You broke Magnus’ heart. You hurt my boy. I cannot let that go unpunished.”

Alec snorted, too exhausted for fear. Of course. He really played himself. Asmodeus wouldn’t leave now, not when he had his claws in such a rich source of pain as Alec, not until he drained that source entirely dry. “You don’t care about Magnus’ wellbeing. You just want more pain, more fuel.”

Asmodeus’ crooked smile was all the confirmation Alec needed. “Poor child of Raziel. So naïve. This is only the beginning.” He closed the distance between them, crouching by Alec and leaning in close. “You know,” he said, “I received something very interesting along with Magnus’ powers. I think it’s only fair that I share it with you.”

And then he was grabbing at Alec’s face, his neck, holding him still as dark red magic swirled around him, filling his vision.

Darkness engulfed Alec’s mind. Asmodeus was already gone.

~*~

Magnus was attempting to play the charango, the same one that Alec had often seen lying around the loft, and failing miserably. A man beside him – Imasu, Magnus had called him – just laughed, stilling Magnus’ hands with a flirtatious smile. Magnus met his gaze, his eyes so full of love and devotion it almost hurt.

–

“Live with you?” Imasu shook his head, all the fondness gone. “Never. It was fun for a while, but you are too clingy. Too much for me. I'm tired now. Goodbye, Magnus.”

Imasu walked out, never looking back.

Never seeing the broken look on Magnus’ face.

~*~

Something felt… wrong.

Magnus wasn’t buying Asmodeus’ ‘paternal love’ as the sole reason that he was somehow able to enter this realm and offer Magnus his magic back. And as desperate as he’d been, as grateful as he was to feel his magic again, he would never trade his freedom. Going back to Edom with his father was a fate worse than death, and one that Magnus wasn’t nearly foolish enough to accept.

So as soon as he had his magic back, Magnus had fled. He was done making deals with the devil.

Now that he had his powers back, he could go anywhere. He didn’t have a home, a job or a lover anchoring him to New York. Perhaps it was about time to go away for good. He could try Rome, Venice or Bangkok. It didn’t matter. He just… needed to leave.

After wandering around the city for a while, lost in thought, he stopped by Pandemonium – empty at this time of the day – and decided to take one last look around the establishment. When he took it on, it had quickly become his pride and joy, but now it had been some time since he was last inside. He’d hired one of his most reliable Warlock friends to manage it, because he hadn’t had the time whilst he was dealing with the Shadowhunters’ mess.

He wanted to regret that, but… he couldn’t.

Just as he turned to leave, he received a fire message from Jace.

Do you know where Alec is? His phone is dead, and he’s not answering fire messages.

I can feel that something’s wrong.

Magnus scoffed. Why should he know where Alec was, now? The Shadowhunter had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Magnus anymore.

He opened a portal, ready to leave, to go somewhere – anywhere – far away; but something prickled at the edge of his mind, and he paused, frowning.

Just days ago, Alec was desperate to not let him go, saying he couldn’t live without him.

Then, he broke up with him.

And then, mere hours later, Asmodeus suddenly appeared and gave his magic back, claiming it was out of love. A pathetic excuse.

…Though not the only pathetic excuse Magnus had heard recently.

I have this meeting I can’t miss. Clave business.

Oh.

Oh.

“Damn it. If you did what I think you did, I’ll kill you, Alexander.”

~*~

Etta was beautiful, and Magnus was clearly head over heels for her. They danced together every night, talked about stars and dreams, about magic and music. She was another Mundane, but she had the Sight and accepted Magnus’ heritage. She loved and desired him.

He looked at her like his heart had finally found a home.

–

The arguments started because it became clear that even with all his magic, Magnus could never give Etta what she most wanted.

A baby.

She didn’t want to adopt, and didn’t want to spend a childless, finite lifetime with someone who was frozen in time. Desperate, he offered her immortality by his side. They’d find a way.

She refused.

Eventually, she left.

Again, Magnus was too much.

(And all Alec wanted was to hold him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t true.)

~*~

Magnus portalled directly into the Ops Center, where Jace was pacing anxiously. He didn’t notice Magnus until he was practically right in front of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“There you are. Izzy is forging a new Glorious to free Clary from Jonathan, and I need to go to her. Angels above know what that lunatic will make her do. But Alec isn’t here, and if I go to another unsanctioned mission, he will put me into ichor duty for one year.” Jace snorted, spinning his stele between his fingers.

Magnus rolled his eyes and let out a deep exhale, trying to find his last dregs of non-existent patience. “Much as it would seem that what the Head of this Institute does is no longer my concern, I do need to discuss something with him. Have you already tried tracking him?”

“Yeah, but it’s not working – that’s why I sent you that fire message.” Jace lifted one brow. “What’s going on? Did you two fight again?”

“It’s none of your business,” Magnus said curtly. “But I need to know something. Did Alexander have a meeting with some Clave envoy yesterday?”

“No, not as far as I know. He left soon after you did, then came back later so we could track down the Drevak demons. I don’t know where he went, but when he got back, he… he seemed off.”

“What do you mean?”

Jace eyed Magnus a little suspiciously. “Look, if you are angry at him and it’s not int—“

“Just tell me, Herondale.” Magnus snapped, impatient. For some reason, the uneasiness inside him only grew. He felt like he was running out of time, though what the deadline was he didn’t know.

Jace took a deep breath, fidgeting a little. “He… he said something strange. He asked me, if I had a chance to free Clary from Jonathan, but as a consequence couldn’t never see her again, would I take the chance? I said no, and I wanted to ask him more about it, but he seemed really tense and didn’t say anything else.”

Magnus closed his eyes. God, this was a nightmare.

“Asmodeus.” Magnus opened his eyes to see Isabelle walking towards them, a mixture of distress and frustration written across her features. “I see your magic is back.” She pointed with her chin at the red sparkles mindlessly floating around Magnus’ fingers. He hadn’t even noticed. “I promised him to not tell anyone, but I guess you figured it out?” Magnus nodded. “Good. It’s not my place to tell you the details, but since Alec has now disappeared…” She sighed, worry and fatigue making her look older than her years. “I’m worried.”

“He made a deal with Asmodeus, didn’t he?” Magnus asked, already knowing the answer, but dreading it anyway.

“He what?” Jace almost shouted, but Izzy only sighed again.

“He did. Asmodeus promised to give your magic back if Alec broke up with you. He mentioned that there was a little more to it, but he wouldn’t tell me that part.”

“Wait, he broke up with Magnus? After trying to propose at that failed dinner?”

“What?” Magnus’ jaw dropped and Izzy elbowed Jace, shushing him.

Alec was going to propose?

Magnus’ magic flared, but he rapidly took control of it. He was so angry. Angry with himself. Angry with Asmodeus. Angry with the world. But mostly, angry with Alexander for being a self-sacrificing idiot.

Magnus took a deep breath – going around in these circles, getting angry and revealing things, wasn’t going to help. He forced a false mask of calm over his demeanour, but didn’t try to hide his dangerous smile. “Alright. You two focus on Clary. It seems I have some business to attend to.” He waved a hand dismissively, turning halfway on his heels and opening a portal.

“What about Alec?”

“Oh, rest assured, I’m going to find that parabaidiot of yours.” Magnus’ cheerful tone did little to hide the ominous undertone. “But first, I have something to take care of.”

He had a Greater Demon to banish.

~*~

The war was at its peak. In a place of such desolation, it was wildly unlikely that a romance would blossom, and yet here they were.

Magnus was talking to a man Alec recognized immediately from the photograph in Magnus’ box. George. A brave soldier. Magnus was clearly smitten.

But of course, as always, Magnus wasn’t the first option for anyone. George chose the war. He hugged Magnus goodbye and left.

Abandoned again.

People had a tendency to walk away from him.

Alec hated the resemblance.

~*~

“Goodbye, father.”

Magnus closed the portal, a bittersweet echo in the air. He did it. He was finally free from his father’s claws.

He didn’t feel happy, though. Not because he had some kind of childish hope that his father could really love him, but because there was still a lingering feeling of darkness that kept sweetly whispering how monstrous he was. His mother killed herself because of him. He killed his stepfather. He sent his father to Limbo forever.

He didn’t deserve a family.

But… he had a new one, right? Catarina, Madzie and Raphael. Clary, Simon and the Lightwoods.

Alexander.

Magnus grabbed the omamori charm still hidden in his pocket. He hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, even when Alec had crushed his heart.

He was just about to go fetch something of Alexander’s to track him when another fire message arrived.

Alicante fell. Demons destroying everything. People are dying.

Magnus frowned. Okay, that was a problem, but… was it his problem? After everything the Clave had done, did they really expect his help?

Then his cellphone pinged. It was a message from Isabelle.

We found Alec. He’s in Alicante.

“…Fuck.”

Magnus opened another portal, because apparently, Alicante had just become his problem.

He sighed. He always knew that these damn Nephilim would be the death of him.

~*~

If Alec weren’t so exhausted, he would have screamed with frustration and pain. How many love stories had he seen? How many people had he witnessed breaking Magnus’ heart? He’d long since lost track, because it was already dozens – mundanes, warlocks, werewolves, vampires, seelie, djinn…

Somehow, he’d forgotten that the worst was yet to come, until she appeared.

Camille.

In the beginning, she was sweet. Caring. Offered everything that Magnus yearned for.

The poison is never bitter in small doses.

“Who will love you?”

“Poor little Warlock. So naïve.”

“You are insufferable, Magnus. Too much. Honestly, you’re lucky to have me – who else would take you?”

Alec wanted to throw up, watching how Camille manipulated Magnus, forcing his compliance when that wasn’t enough. She broke him in a way nobody deserved.

She put the last brick on Magnus’ well-crafted walls, and Alec watched his heart get locked away.

~*~

Another explosion of flames and ichor, and another demon dead. Alec hadn’t stopped since breaking free of the memories, getting back to the Institute just in time to hear about the fall of Alicante – and worse, that his siblings were there.

With barely a thought, he geared up, reaching for his bow and quiver.

Correction: Magnus’ bow and quiver. Perhaps the last thing from Magnus he would ever get.

He felt hollow, numb, soulless. How could he feel otherwise, when he had caused such pain to the most beautiful soul in existence?

He’d failed Magnus, just as he eventually failed everyone. Asmodeus was right. Magnus was better off without him.

But there was only one thing he could do now, and that was fight. One by one – or five by five – he shot demons down, his arrows flying fast and true even as a voice at the back of his mind whispered that it was useless. With the rift still open, more would just keep coming. Still, if he could buy time for his people to escape, he would do his damned best, even if it killed him.

He was a soldier above all else. Emotions would only distract him from that duty.

“Alexander?”

No.

That voice.

He slowly turned around, losing what little color he still had on his pale face.

“No. You can’t be here. You… You…” His voice broke, and he shook his head in denial.

“I can’t be anywhere else.” Magnus stepped closer, his voice and posture soft.

“No. You don’t understand. I… I’m terrible for you. I hurt you. I…” Alec’s voice broke again, even more painfully. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I get to decide that, and I say you are deserving. More than anyone, Alexander.” Magnus took another step, but Alec retreated, like a scared animal.

Unwanted tears blurred Alec’s vision for a moment, and as soon as he blinked them away, instinct took over – an Edomi demon was launching itself in Magnus’ direction, and Alec could see that Magnus was in completely the wrong position to defend himself.

Alec made his decision in a split-second, throwing himself over Magnus as a shield.

~*~

He didn’t want to see more. It was too much to bear.

And if he’d thought that Camille would be the most difficult to watch… oh, how wrong he was. Asmodeus had left the worst as a sort of ‘grand finale’.

Alec himself.

He watched himself turning Magnus away. Rejecting him with angry words. Lying, letting the Clave manipulate him once more.

He hurt Magnus so many times. He wasn’t better than any of his past lovers. Maybe he was the worst.

Because if Magnus thought he was too much, then Alec knew that he himself was not enough, could never be enough for Magnus.

He watched himself break up with Magnus, heard his own words again, heard Magnus’ pleas again. He saw the despair in his lover’s eyes, wracking his whole body.

He did that.

Alec finally screamed.

~*~

“No! No, no, no—” Magnus begged, and how Alec hated that familiar kind of agony tinting his voice, but he couldn’t do anything. The world faded for a while and he felt himself falling.

But the impact never came.

Instead, he was being held by the only pair of arms that really mattered. He tried to speak, but only blood came out of his mouth, choking him. The demon had torn a deep hole in his abdomen, the bleeding too severe for Magnus’ magic to heal – not on his own, not in this state.

“Stay with me, Alec. Come on. Stay with me.”

Those words again. Oh God, no.

“Sor…ry…” Alec whispered, tears and blood mixing together, liquid hopelessness trailing down his cool skin.

~*~

Alec opened his eyes to reality.

It wasn’t dark anymore, so he could only guess that he was gone for hours.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe properly – but he also couldn’t stop crying. It was too much, witnessing in less than a day what Magnus had suffered over centuries.

How had he endured all that? How, despite everything, had he remained kind and generous, good and benevolent?

How… How could so many people have hurt him?

How could Alec have hurt him?

He howled, and Asmodeus was there to collect each drop of anguish, of pain, of heartbreak – he absorbed it all, smiling with cruel satisfaction, before disappearing again to Magnus’ loft. His son would be back from the Institute anytime now, and Asmodeus would be ready to take him to their rightful home.

~*~

“I know about the deal. And why you did what you did. It’s okay, I don’t—“ Magnus was still trying to infuse his healing magic into Alec’s wound, to no avail, when he saw that Alec’s eyes had closed. “Alec? Alexander!” Magnus tapped Alec’s cheek, desperately looking for a sign of consciousness.

Alec blinked slowly, dazed. He didn’t understand. Why was Magnus trying to save him?

“Don’t you… hate… me?”

“What-? Of course not. Alexander, I love you. I’d never, ever, hate you. Even though I’m angry that you made a deal with my father, I’d never hate you.”

“I…” Alec licked his chapped and dry lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood. “I only… wanted to… help you. ‘ake you hap-py. Your… magic-”

“I know, I know. Please, don’t talk anymore. We will have plenty of time after this to talk it out, I promise. Just… just rest, okay? Don’t go away. Stay here.”

“I love… you.” And this was his ultimate truth – even when he still felt his heart shattered, bleeding with the rest of his body. He needed to tell Magnus that, even if it were for the last time, even if he never opened his eyes again. “Lo…ve… ‘u…” He breathed, welcoming the darkness once more.

“I love you too, Alexander,” Magnus cradled Alec’s body as close as possible, doing his best to not break down. Alec was alive. He could feel his heartbeat. He couldn’t panic, or else he would lose Alec for good.

“Alec!”

Jace, Isabelle and Clary came running up to them.

They bore more bad news. Jonathan had destroyed the Morgenstern sword.

Alicante was doomed.

Glancing at Alexander, Magnus felt his heart clench even more, if that were possible. His Shadowhunter seemed as if he had given up the will to fight for his life. He forced more healing spell into the wound, turning over a plan in his mind.

“My father told me about a way to increase my power.”

“Enough to close the rift?” asked Clary.

“Potentially, yes. The strength I would need to pull it off can only come from one place.”

“Edom?” Izzy prompted. Magnus only nodded.

“You know, if you weren’t a 400-and-something-year-old Warlock, I’d kick your ass. Actually, I could still do that, except that my brother wouldn’t forgive me.”

Magnus turned to Izzy with wide eyes, dumbfounded. She looked like a woman at the end of her patience.

“You and Alec are ridiculous. Always making these stupid decisions for the sake of others, for the sake of the world, but never choosing yourselves. If you go to Edom, you know that you won’t be able to come back. Then my stupid brother will most likely raise another hell just to get you back. We have no demon blood, so we wouldn’t survive in Edom – which just means that Alec would do something even more stupid to get there, like… I don’t know, trying to turn into a Vampire? Something idiotic like that.”

Magnus’ jaw fell slightly, and for the first time in years, he was truly speechless.

“Magnus… Alec won’t make it without you. He is giving up.” Jace was palming his parabatai rune, clearly in pain. “Please. He’ll only stay if you stay.”

“You…” Magnus huffed, reluctantly amused. “You are all impossible.” Really, these Nephilim would be the death of him. “Okay. There is something else I could try.”

Something that could’ve helped before, if it wasn’t for Lorenzo’s threat.

Magnus pulled away from healing Alec, flicking his wrist and summoning a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote his message, creating another twenty copies with a wave of his hand, and sending them off. All of them flared immediately, flying off in different directions.

It was time to call in all his favors - this time, way out of Lorenzo’s jurisdiction.

~*~

It has been five months since the last time he was at Pandemonium during its ‘closed’ hours. That day, he had decided to leave New York – maybe for good. Now, he wanted nothing more to stay.

Thanks to the combined forces of eighteen warlocks, they’d had enough power to close the rift above Alicante. And the delight of having Shadowhunters owe a huge debt to the Warlock community? Well, it was a delicious bonus.

Catarina had focused on saving Alec’s life, while Magnus had led the spell needed to close the rift. Izzy, Clary, Jace, and other Shadowhunters ran interference, keeping the demons away from the Warlocks while they worked.

Some days later, the danger Jonathan imposed also met its end.

They could finally breathe and rest.

They took turns to get days off. First Izzy with Simon, then Jace and Clary – and finally, Magnus took Alec as far away as he could.

They had a very long (and very overdue) talk about everything – Magnus’ magic, his terrible coping mechanisms, Alec’s deal with Asmodeus, their relationship, communication.

There were a lot of tears. Hugs. Kisses. Reassurances.

Sex.

And if they stayed a bit longer away from New York, well – nobody dared to say anything.

Now, Magnus was at Pandemonium once more, reminiscing about everything that happened since that very first night, when Alec, Jace, Isabelle and Clary had stormed into his life.

Distracted as he was, he barely registered an arrow flying over his shoulder.

Immediately, he called upon his magic, ready to fight – but when he turned around, what he saw made his heart beat faster in an entirely different way, his magic flickering out again.

Alec was there, bow in hand, standing at the stairs leading to the upper floor.

Exactly like that night. Exactly like when he had killed that Circle member, and saved Magnus’ life.

Giving Magnus a crooked smile, Alec climbed down the stairs and put aside his bow.

“You know, it always made me happy that you were my ‘first’ everything. My first kiss, my first relationship, my first ‘I love you’, my first – er – sexual partner.” At that, an adorable pink colored Alec’s cheeks and neck. “I wasn’t yours, but that never worried me. Once, Jace told me that it only ‘counted’ when we have this kind of experience with the one we truly love. He says that it’s only when he had his first kiss with Clary that he felt whole.”

“Oh? I never took him for the romantic type.”

Alec shrugged, trying to not grin. He finally got closer to Magnus and kissed him sweetly, just a slow and lingering slide of lips.

“I asked you to come here today because this,” he gestured to the club, “is our first place. Where our lives got intertwined. So… there isn’t a better place to ask you for another first.”

He took a small velvet box from his jacket pocket and opened it, revealing the Lightwood ring. Licking his lips, he braced himself and looked at Magnus.

Really looked.

And it was intense enough for Magnus to drop his glamour, as the realization of what was about to happen crashed down on his mind. Big, warm, golden cat-eyes looked back at Alec, full of adoration.

“Magnus, will you give me the honor of being my first, my only love, for the time we get to share? Magnus Bane, will you marry me?”

And in all Magnus’ centuries, saying a simple, three-letter word had never seemed so peaceful, so easy.

“Yes.”

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Merry Christmas, @mirrorofliterature!

Happy Holidays! This is my gift for volunteer_of_hufflepuff <3 It's not Christmas-ish, but I tried to use elements you like~ So, I hope you like this!!

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*****

I feel what you feel (and my heart got equally broken)

“Mama!”

Alec blinked as the child ran past him, into the arms of a young woman with a warm, beautiful, and eerily familiar smile.

Alec watched, trying to place the woman’s resemblance, as she took the boy onto her lap and embraced him. She began to sing, the unfamiliar language spinning a lullaby.

Whatever the words meant, they only made the kid smile wider, beaming happiness.

Another blink, and the woman now lay bleeding on the bed, a dagger blossoming from her stomach. The boy gave a desperate scream, answered only by the furious shouts of a portly man who burst into the bedroom seconds later.

Realization settled over Alec as the boy turned on the man and hit him with an all-consuming ball of fire.

Magnus.

~*~

“I’ll restore both. His magic and his immortality.” Asmodeus smiled, his golden eyes flickering dangerously, and Alec had the unsettling feeling of being eyed as prey. ”However, there is a price for each. Despite how intertwined the two usually are, it is possible to have magic and not be immortal. Or, to be condemned to an eternity as a useless mundane. So, what do you choose, Nephilim?”

Alec willed his blank mask of an expression not to waver. A selfish part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Magnus would be okay with his magic alone, sacrificing only his immortality. Just for a moment, he dared to imagine it – a life with Magnus at his side, one where they could grow old together. No more fights about that damn box. No more fear of the pain Alec knew he’d leave behind when Magnus outlived him.

But even in the face of that temptation, Alec knew better. Fifty, sixty, seventy years were more than enough for a mortal like Alec, but for an immortal to be reduced to that… It wasn’t only the lack of magic tormenting Magnus, driving him to frenetic desperation and last night’s breakdown. Magnus didn’t want to grow old. He wanted to stay.

And who was Alec to deny him that?

“Both,” Alec said with a fearless fire in his eyes, although his insides couldn’t be colder. “What’s your price?”

“End your relationship.”

Alec blinked, taking several seconds to process that. “What?”

“You are the source of all his suffering. You make him vulnerable, weak. You are a disgrace to Magnus. With you, he can never reach his full potential.” Asmodeus punctuated each ’you’, a hammer slamming into Alec’s defenses. “You are not enough for my son. You never will be.”

Alec felt his lips tremble. He knew that, but… “You’re wrong. We love each other.” His voice was quieter now. “I wouldn’t just abandon him.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to be the death of him.”

“Magnus will never agree to it.”

“Don’t give him a choice. In fact, Magnus can never know about our little arrangement, or else our deal is off. Break his heart to save his life.”

That sparked something, and Alec frowned. “I’m the one making a deal, here. I should be the only one paying the price. Magnus has already suffered enough.”

“You’re right; but as I said, it’ll be double the price if you want me to return his magic and his immortality. The end of your relationship is but half of what I require – your part in our bargain will cover the rest.”

“And what is it you want from me?”

“Your pain. Your heart so irreparably broken, that your soul will also shatter.” Asmodeus’ voice was cold, though not enough to hide the entirety of his amusement. ”Tell me, Nephilim… do you know what fuels Edom? What fuels any of the hellish realms? How my kind feast on your petty mortal feelings? Anger, envy, lust, jealousy – those are delicious appetizers, to be sure. But sadness? Sorrow? Misery? Ah, the main dish.” He breathed deeply, a self-satisfied smile on his face and cat-eyes taking on a cruel shine. “You, Lightwood, will make a sumptuous banquet.”

And Alec felt only numbness. He always knew that this would be a dangerous game to play – the moment he had decided to talk to Asmodeus, all the possible scenarios had begun to unravel in his mind. He was prepared for the worst.

After all, what could be worse than letting Magnus go?

“Deal.”

~*~

Alec watched as Magnus laughed, chasing after the mundane girl and sweeping her up off her feet, spinning her round until she practically squealed with delight. Magnus was recognizable now, his face sculpted into his familiar adult features, but he still looked so… young, so carefree. He and the young woman turned to face each other, and then they were kissing, and Alec had to close his eyes, unable to face what he’d lost.

When he opened them again, he was standing in a cemetery. Magnus was a few feet away, hand placed gently on a headstone, head bowed.

As he turned to leave, Alec caught sight of his face, and almost shuddered to see the heartbreak etched there.

~*~

What have I done?

Alec punched the alley wall for the fifth time, his skin breaking and blood dripping from his knuckles. He could hear ugly sobs, and it took him a good few seconds to realize that they were coming from him. Good, he thought. Drive the pain out. Out. Out.

He still felt his heart clenching and it was suffocating him.

He broke Magnus’ heart.

He broke his own heart.

He needed to get out.

Another sob. Stop. Stop. Please, someone make it stop.

“Magnus, I’m sorry.”

He cried hard, falling to his knees. Magnus’ pained expression seemed imprinted under his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was his lover’s despair, all he could hear were his pleas. Fuck, he made Magnus beg. He wanted so much to go back and take Magnus in his arms, tell him that it was a mistake and that he didn’t care if Magnus still had that ‘spark’ or not. He loved Magnus for who he was, not what he had. Magic or not, immortal or not, he loved Magnus Bane for his heart.

A heart that Alec had destroyed.

“I fulfilled my part of our deal,” a voice echoed behind him. “Magnus has his magic and immortality back.”

“Fine. Go. What more do you want? I’ve already paid you,” Alec growled, feeling too weak to get up, but turning enough to glare at the Prince of Edom.

“You did,” Asmodeus nodded slowly, tilting his head a little as hard cat-eyes returned Alec’s glare, familiar but foreign. Asmodeus was incapable of the warmth and love in Magnus’ eyes, would always be a world away from that sort of kindness and beauty. “You broke Magnus’ heart. You hurt my boy. I cannot let that go unpunished.”

Alec snorted, too exhausted for fear. Of course. He really played himself. Asmodeus wouldn’t leave now, not when he had his claws in such a rich source of pain as Alec, not until he drained that source entirely dry. “You don’t care about Magnus’ wellbeing. You just want more pain, more fuel.”

Asmodeus’ crooked smile was all the confirmation Alec needed. “Poor child of Raziel. So naïve. This is only the beginning.” He closed the distance between them, crouching by Alec and leaning in close. “You know,” he said, “I received something very interesting along with Magnus’ powers. I think it’s only fair that I share it with you.”

And then he was grabbing at Alec’s face, his neck, holding him still as dark red magic swirled around him, filling his vision.

Darkness engulfed Alec’s mind. Asmodeus was already gone.

~*~

Magnus was attempting to play the charango, the same one that Alec had often seen lying around the loft, and failing miserably. A man beside him – Imasu, Magnus had called him – just laughed, stilling Magnus’ hands with a flirtatious smile. Magnus met his gaze, his eyes so full of love and devotion it almost hurt.

–--

“Live with you?” Imasu shook his head, all the fondness gone. “Never. It was fun for a while, but you are too clingy. Too much for me. I'm tired now. Goodbye, Magnus.”

Imasu walked out, never looking back.

Never seeing the broken look on Magnus’ face.

~*~

Something felt… wrong.

Magnus wasn’t buying Asmodeus’ ‘paternal love’ as the sole reason that he was somehow able to enter this realm and offer Magnus his magic back. And as desperate as he’d been, as grateful as he was to feel his magic again, he would never trade his freedom. Going back to Edom with his father was a fate worse than death, and one that Magnus wasn’t nearly foolish enough to accept.

So as soon as he had his magic back, Magnus had fled. He was done making deals with the devil.

Now that he had his powers back, he could go anywhere. He didn’t have a home, a job or a lover anchoring him to New York. Perhaps it was about time to go away for good. He could try Rome, Venice or Bangkok. It didn’t matter. He just… needed to leave.

After wandering around the city for a while, lost in thought, he stopped by Pandemonium – empty at this time of the day – and decided to take one last look around the establishment. When he took it on, it had quickly become his pride and joy, but now it had been some time since he was last inside. He’d hired one of his most reliable Warlock friends to manage it, because he hadn’t had the time whilst he was dealing with the Shadowhunters’ mess.

He wanted to regret that, but… he couldn’t.

Just as he turned to leave, he received a fire message from Jace.

Do you know where Alec is? His phone is dead, and he’s not answering fire messages.

I can feel that something’s wrong.

Magnus scoffed. Why should he know where Alec was, now? The Shadowhunter had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Magnus anymore.

He opened a portal, ready to leave, to go somewhere – anywhere – far away; but something prickled at the edge of his mind, and he paused, frowning.

Just days ago, Alec was desperate to not let him go, saying he couldn’t live without him.

Then, he broke up with him.

And then, mere hours later, Asmodeus suddenly appeared and gave his magic back, claiming it was out of love. A pathetic excuse.

…Though not the only pathetic excuse Magnus had heard recently.

I have this meeting I can’t miss. Clave business.

Oh.

Oh.

“Damn it. If you did what I think you did, I’ll kill you, Alexander.”

~*~

Etta was beautiful, and Magnus was clearly head over heels for her. They danced together every night, talked about stars and dreams, about magic and music. She was another Mundane, but she had the Sight and accepted Magnus’ heritage. She loved and desired him.

He looked at her like his heart had finally found a home.

–--

The arguments started because it became clear that even with all his magic, Magnus could never give Etta what she most wanted.

A baby.

She didn’t want to adopt, and didn’t want to spend a childless, finite lifetime with someone who was frozen in time. Desperate, he offered her immortality by his side. They’d find a way.

She refused.

Eventually, she left.

Again, Magnus was too much.

(And all Alec wanted was to hold him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t true.)

~*~

Magnus portalled directly into the Ops Center, where Jace was pacing anxiously. He didn’t notice Magnus until he was practically right in front of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“There you are. Izzy is forging a new Glorious to free Clary from Jonathan, and I need to go to her. Angels above know what that lunatic will make her do. But Alec isn’t here, and if I go to another unsanctioned mission, he will put me into ichor duty for one year.” Jace snorted, spinning his stele between his fingers.

Magnus rolled his eyes and let out a deep exhale, trying to find his last dregs of non-existent patience. “Much as it would seem that what the Head of this Institute does is no longer my concern, I do need to discuss something with him. Have you already tried tracking him?”

“Yeah, but it’s not working – that’s why I sent you that fire message.” Jace lifted one brow. “What’s going on? Did you two fight again?”

“It’s none of your business,” Magnus said curtly. “But I need to know something. Did Alexander have a meeting with some Clave envoy yesterday?”

“No, not as far as I know. He left soon after you did, then came back later so we could track down the Drevak demons. I don’t know where he went, but when he got back, he… he seemed off.”

“What do you mean?”

Jace eyed Magnus a little suspiciously. “Look, if you are angry at him and it’s not int—“

“Just tell me, Herondale.” Magnus snapped, impatient. For some reason, the uneasiness inside him only grew. He felt like he was running out of time, though what the deadline was he didn’t know.

Jace took a deep breath, fidgeting a little. “He… he said something strange. He asked me, if I had a chance to free Clary from Jonathan, but as a consequence couldn’t never see her again, would I take the chance? I said no, and I wanted to ask him more about it, but he seemed really tense and didn’t say anything else.”

Magnus closed his eyes. God, this was a nightmare.

“Asmodeus.” Magnus opened his eyes to see Isabelle walking towards them, a mixture of distress and frustration written across her features. “I see your magic is back.” She pointed with her chin at the red sparkles mindlessly floating around Magnus’ fingers. He hadn’t even noticed. “I promised him to not tell anyone, but I guess you figured it out?” Magnus nodded. “Good. It’s not my place to tell you the details, but since Alec has now disappeared…” She sighed, worry and fatigue making her look older than her years. “I’m worried.”

“He made a deal with Asmodeus, didn’t he?” Magnus asked, already knowing the answer, but dreading it anyway.

“He what?” Jace almost shouted, but Izzy only sighed again.

“He did. Asmodeus promised to give your magic back if Alec broke up with you. He mentioned that there was a little more to it, but he wouldn’t tell me that part.”

“Wait, he broke up with Magnus? After trying to propose at that failed dinner?”

“What?” Magnus’ jaw dropped and Izzy elbowed Jace, shushing him.

Alec was going to propose?

Magnus’ magic flared, but he rapidly took control of it. He was so angry. Angry with himself. Angry with Asmodeus. Angry with the world. But mostly, angry with Alexander for being a self-sacrificing idiot.

Magnus took a deep breath – going around in these circles, getting angry and revealing things, wasn’t going to help. He forced a false mask of calm over his demeanour, but didn’t try to hide his dangerous smile. “Alright. You two focus on Clary. It seems I have some business to attend to.” He waved a hand dismissively, turning halfway on his heels and opening a portal.

“What about Alec?”

“Oh, rest assured, I’m going to find that parabaidiot of yours.” Magnus’ cheerful tone did little to hide the ominous undertone. “But first, I have something to take care of.”

He had a Greater Demon to banish.

~*~

The war was at its peak. In a place of such desolation, it was wildly unlikely that a romance would blossom, and yet here they were.

Magnus was talking to a man Alec recognized immediately from the photograph in Magnus’ box. George. A brave soldier. Magnus was clearly smitten.

But of course, as always, Magnus wasn’t the first option for anyone. George chose the war. He hugged Magnus goodbye and left.

Abandoned again.

People had a tendency to walk away from him.

Alec hated the resemblance.

~*~

“Goodbye, father.”

Magnus closed the portal, a bittersweet echo in the air. He did it. He was finally free from his father’s claws.

He didn’t feel happy, though. Not because he had some kind of childish hope that his father could really love him, but because there was still a lingering feeling of darkness that kept sweetly whispering how monstrous he was. His mother killed herself because of him. He killed his stepfather. He sent his father to Limbo forever.

He didn’t deserve a family.

But… he had a new one, right? Catarina, Madzie and Raphael. Clary, Simon and the Lightwoods.

Alexander.

Magnus grabbed the omamori charm still hidden in his pocket. He hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, even when Alec had crushed his heart.

He was just about to go fetch something of Alexander’s to track him when another fire message arrived.

Alicante fell. Demons destroying everything. People are dying.

Magnus frowned. Okay, that was a problem, but… was it his problem? After everything the Clave had done, did they really expect his help?

Then his cellphone pinged. It was a message from Isabelle.

We found Alec. He’s in Alicante.

“…Fuck.”

Magnus opened another portal, because apparently, Alicante had just become his problem.

He sighed. He always knew that these damn Nephilim would be the death of him.

~*~

If Alec weren’t so exhausted, he would have screamed with frustration and pain. How many love stories had he seen? How many people had he witnessed breaking Magnus’ heart? He’d long since lost track, because it was already dozens – mundanes, warlocks, werewolves, vampires, seelie, djinn…

Somehow, he’d forgotten that the worst was yet to come, until she appeared.

Camille.

In the beginning, she was sweet. Caring. Offered everything that Magnus yearned for.

The poison is never bitter in small doses.

“Who will love you?”

“Poor little Warlock. So naïve.”

“You are insufferable, Magnus. Too much. Honestly, you’re lucky to have me – who else would take you?”

Alec wanted to throw up, watching how Camille manipulated Magnus, forcing his compliance when that wasn’t enough. She broke him in a way nobody deserved.

She put the last brick on Magnus’ well-crafted walls, and Alec watched his heart get locked away.

~*~

Another explosion of flames and ichor, and another demon dead. Alec hadn’t stopped since breaking free of the memories, getting back to the Institute just in time to hear about the fall of Alicante – and worse, that his siblings were there.

With barely a thought, he geared up, reaching for his bow and quiver.

Correction: Magnus’ bow and quiver. Perhaps the last thing from Magnus he would ever get.

He felt hollow, numb, soulless. How could he feel otherwise, when he had caused such pain to the most beautiful soul in existence?

He’d failed Magnus, just as he eventually failed everyone. Asmodeus was right. Magnus was better off without him.

But there was only one thing he could do now, and that was fight. One by one – or five by five – he shot demons down, his arrows flying fast and true even as a voice at the back of his mind whispered that it was useless. With the rift still open, more would just keep coming. Still, if he could buy time for his people to escape, he would do his damned best, even if it killed him.

He was a soldier above all else. Emotions would only distract him from that duty.

“Alexander?”

No.

That voice.

He slowly turned around, losing what little color he still had on his pale face.

“No. You can’t be here. You… You…” His voice broke, and he shook his head in denial.

“I can’t be anywhere else.” Magnus stepped closer, his voice and posture soft.

“No. You don’t understand. I… I’m terrible for you. I hurt you. I…” Alec’s voice broke again, even more painfully. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I get to decide that, and I say you are deserving. More than anyone, Alexander.” Magnus took another step, but Alec retreated, like a scared animal.

Unwanted tears blurred Alec’s vision for a moment, and as soon as he blinked them away, instinct took over – an Edomi demon was launching itself in Magnus’ direction, and Alec could see that Magnus was in completely the wrong position to defend himself.

Alec made his decision in a split-second, throwing himself over Magnus as a shield.

~*~

He didn’t want to see more. It was too much to bear.

And if he’d thought that Camille would be the most difficult to watch… oh, how wrong he was. Asmodeus had left the worst as a sort of ‘grand finale’.

Alec himself.

He watched himself turning Magnus away. Rejecting him with angry words. Lying, letting the Clave manipulate him once more.

He hurt Magnus so many times. He wasn’t better than any of his past lovers. Maybe he was the worst.

Because if Magnus thought he was too much, then Alec knew that he himself was not enough, could never be enough for Magnus.

He watched himself break up with Magnus, heard his own words again, heard Magnus’ pleas again. He saw the despair in his lover’s eyes, wracking his whole body.

He did that.

Alec finally screamed.

~*~

“No! No, no, no—” Magnus begged, and how Alec hated that familiar kind of agony tinting his voice, but he couldn’t do anything. The world faded for a while and he felt himself falling.

But the impact never came.

Instead, he was being held by the only pair of arms that really mattered. He tried to speak, but only blood came out of his mouth, choking him. The demon had torn a deep hole in his abdomen, the bleeding too severe for Magnus’ magic to heal – not on his own, not in this state.

“Stay with me, Alec. Come on. Stay with me.”

Those words again. Oh God, no.

“Sor…ry…” Alec whispered, tears and blood mixing together, liquid hopelessness trailing down his cool skin.

~*~

Alec opened his eyes to reality.

It wasn’t dark anymore, so he could only guess that he was gone for hours.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe properly – but he also couldn’t stop crying. It was too much, witnessing in less than a day what Magnus had suffered over centuries.

How had he endured all that? How, despite everything, had he remained kind and generous, good and benevolent?

How… How could so many people have hurt him?

How could Alec have hurt him?

He howled, and Asmodeus was there to collect each drop of anguish, of pain, of heartbreak – he absorbed it all, smiling with cruel satisfaction, before disappearing again to Magnus’ loft. His son would be back from the Institute anytime now, and Asmodeus would be ready to take him to their rightful home.

~*~

“I know about the deal. And why you did what you did. It’s okay, I don’t—“ Magnus was still trying to infuse his healing magic into Alec’s wound, to no avail, when he saw that Alec’s eyes had closed. “Alec? Alexander!” Magnus tapped Alec’s cheek, desperately looking for a sign of consciousness.

Alec blinked slowly, dazed. He didn’t understand. Why was Magnus trying to save him?

“Don’t you… hate… me?”

“What-? Of course not. Alexander, I love you. I’d never, ever, hate you. Even though I’m angry that you made a deal with my father, I’d never hate you.”

“I…” Alec licked his chapped and dry lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood. “I only… wanted to… help you. ‘ake you hap-py. Your… magic-”

“I know, I know. Please, don’t talk anymore. We will have plenty of time after this to talk it out, I promise. Just… just rest, okay? Don’t go away. Stay here.”

“I love… you.” And this was his ultimate truth – even when he still felt his heart shattered, bleeding with the rest of his body. He needed to tell Magnus that, even if it were for the last time, even if he never opened his eyes again. “Lo…ve… ‘u…” He breathed, welcoming the darkness once more.

“I love you too, Alexander,” Magnus cradled Alec’s body as close as possible, doing his best to not break down. Alec was alive. He could feel his heartbeat. He couldn’t panic, or else he would lose Alec for good.

“Alec!”

Jace, Isabelle and Clary came running up to them.

They bore more bad news. Jonathan had destroyed the Morgenstern sword.

Alicante was doomed.

Glancing at Alexander, Magnus felt his heart clench even more, if that were possible. His Shadowhunter seemed as if he had given up the will to fight for his life. He forced more healing spell into the wound, turning over a plan in his mind.

“My father told me about a way to increase my power.”

“Enough to close the rift?” asked Clary.

“Potentially, yes. The strength I would need to pull it off can only come from one place.”

“Edom?” Izzy prompted. Magnus only nodded.

“You know, if you weren’t a 400-and-something-year-old Warlock, I’d kick your ass. Actually, I could still do that, except that my brother wouldn’t forgive me.”

Magnus turned to Izzy with wide eyes, dumbfounded. She looked like a woman at the end of her patience.

“You and Alec are ridiculous. Always making these stupid decisions for the sake of others, for the sake of the world, but never choosing yourselves. If you go to Edom, you know that you won’t be able to come back. Then my stupid brother will most likely raise another hell just to get you back. We have no demon blood, so we wouldn’t survive in Edom – which just means that Alec would do something even more stupid to get there, like… I don’t know, trying to turn into a Vampire? Something idiotic like that.”

Magnus’ jaw fell slightly, and for the first time in years, he was truly speechless.

“Magnus… Alec won’t make it without you. He is giving up.” Jace was palming his parabatai rune, clearly in pain. “Please. He’ll only stay if you stay.”

“You…” Magnus huffed, reluctantly amused. “You are all impossible.” Really, these Nephilim would be the death of him. “Okay. There is something else I could try.”

Something that could’ve helped before, if it wasn’t for Lorenzo’s threat.

Magnus pulled away from healing Alec, flicking his wrist and summoning a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote his message, creating another twenty copies with a wave of his hand, and sending them off. All of them flared immediately, flying off in different directions.

It was time to call in all his favors - this time, way out of Lorenzo’s jurisdiction.

~*~

It has been five months since the last time he was at Pandemonium during its ‘closed’ hours. That day, he had decided to leave New York – maybe for good. Now, he wanted nothing more to stay.

Thanks to the combined forces of eighteen warlocks, they’d had enough power to close the rift above Alicante. And the delight of having Shadowhunters owe a huge debt to the Warlock community? Well, it was a delicious bonus.

Catarina had focused on saving Alec’s life, while Magnus had led the spell needed to close the rift. Izzy, Clary, Jace, and other Shadowhunters ran interference, keeping the demons away from the Warlocks while they worked.

Some days later, the danger Jonathan imposed also met its end.

They could finally breathe and rest.

They took turns to get days off. First Izzy with Simon, then Jace and Clary – and finally, Magnus took Alec as far away as he could.

They had a very long (and very overdue) talk about everything – Magnus’ magic, his terrible coping mechanisms, Alec’s deal with Asmodeus, their relationship, communication.

There were a lot of tears. Hugs. Kisses. Reassurances.

Sex.

And if they stayed a bit longer away from New York, well – nobody dared to say anything.

Now, Magnus was at Pandemonium once more, reminiscing about everything that happened since that very first night, when Alec, Jace, Isabelle and Clary had stormed into his life.

Distracted as he was, he barely registered an arrow flying over his shoulder.

Immediately, he called upon his magic, ready to fight – but when he turned around, what he saw made his heart beat faster in an entirely different way, his magic flickering out again.

Alec was there, bow in hand, standing at the stairs leading to the upper floor.

Exactly like that night. Exactly like when he had killed that Circle member, and saved Magnus’ life.

Giving Magnus a crooked smile, Alec climbed down the stairs and put aside his bow.

“You know, it always made me happy that you were my ‘first’ everything. My first kiss, my first relationship, my first ‘I love you’, my first – er – sexual partner.” At that, an adorable pink colored Alec’s cheeks and neck. “I wasn’t yours, but that never worried me. Once, Jace told me that it only ‘counted’ when we have this kind of experience with the one we truly love. He says that it’s only when he had his first kiss with Clary that he felt whole.”

“Oh? I never took him for the romantic type.”

Alec shrugged, trying to not grin. He finally got closer to Magnus and kissed him sweetly, just a slow and lingering slide of lips.

“I asked you to come here today because this,” he gestured to the club, “is our first place. Where our lives got intertwined. So… there isn’t a better place to ask you for another first.”

He took a small velvet box from his jacket pocket and opened it, revealing the Lightwood ring. Licking his lips, he braced himself and looked at Magnus.

Really looked.

And it was intense enough for Magnus to drop his glamour, as the realization of what was about to happen crashed down on his mind. Big, warm, golden cat-eyes looked back at Alec, full of adoration.

“Magnus, will you give me the honor of being my first, my only love, for the time we get to share? Magnus Bane, will you marry me?”

And in all Magnus’ centuries, saying a simple, three-letter word had never seemed so peaceful, so easy.

“Yes.”

[smokingtomas]

Souma: A Necessary Closure

Akai Ito: Fear (ch. 6)

“Where the hell have you been, Yukihira?! Are you trying to rip me off?!”

Nakiri Alice-- her voice could possibly wake dead people back to live. “Whoa, whoa, chill! ‘Sup with the screaming now?”

“Do you know how much roaming costs because you decided not to answer my Facetime?! Now here I am, back in the 90s yelling at your imbecile, headless self!”

Is she forgetting the fact that having her last name means a lot of money? “Aight, aight! It’ll cost ya more the longer you are yelling at me! What d’ya need?”

“As much as I want to bark more at you right now for leaving Erina, which you better believe I will once I see that red hair of yours, I will get straight to point.”

“And that is…?”

“Erina went to Eishi’s hotel in London.”

His heart skips a beat, and in the worst way possible.

“Oh! And he tried to kiss her.”

Aaaand now it’s on his feet.

It’s as if his sanity drops together with it when the little person in his head starts berserking through and throwing things out of the broken window. Guilt is washing over him all over again-- is it his fault?

Megumi’s right-- he shouldn’t have left her. But God has fucked him over his stupid decision and of course Erina goes straight back into his arms.

“Mou, Yukihira! Say something! I’ve given you a very useful information. Don’t tell me you--”

“H-Hello? Is this Alice-san?” Megumi snatches Soma’s phone from him and put her on speaker, and amidst his train of thoughts, he really doesn’t care.

“Oh? You’re with Tadokoro-chan? My, my, so scandalous.”

Alice’s leer triggers Megumi’s nervous button once again, “E-Eh?! It’s not what you think it is! W-We just happen to be in the same city and he… he came for advice! I-I’m actually carrying Takumi’s baby!”

“Gee, Tadokoro-chan! Don’t worry too much. I trust you, unlike the prick that you’re with.” After a brief pause (and a whatever-you-say shrug from Souma), her tone changes to glee, “Oh! Congratulations on the baby, by the way~!”

“Thank you, Alice-san, but Souma-kun can’t really talk right now, so umm… where did you get that information?”

“What do you think? I followed and spied on her, duh! Mimasaka-kun isn’t the only one who does it.”

“Do you know what else they talk about?”

“Nope. They were too far from the door. My hearing device only caught muffles.”

“I see. Thank you for the news, Alice-san. I’ll make sure Soma-kun flies home tonight.”

“He better be! Or else, the last thing going down his throat will be my--”

Megumi hangs up and hands his phone back. “You don’t need to hear that sentence, do you?”

“Guess not.” Soma sighs frustratedly, obviously still a mess, “And guess coming back home ain’t gonna change anything now.”

“Don’t say that. I’m sure Nakiri-san won’t get back to him that easily.” She pats his shoulder, “And I’m sure you know that. I’ve told you the bond you guys have is special.”

A promising look from Megumi is all it takes for Souma to feel convinced once again when he was practically down in the dumps just a second ago. Yes-- what a rollercoaster, but now, after a conversation with her, he’s settled on an action. An action that isn’t encouraged by her in the first place, but it somehow clicks and makes sense.

“It’s time for you to go home, Souma-kun.”

After going through the hassle of booking a last minute ticket out of Phuket online (in his hangover state, everything is a hassle), he manages to go back to his own hotel, shower, and pack his bags on time for his flight.

And at this stage, he’d wish that said flight only takes an hour max, but the frustrating bit is 6,000 miles is impossible to be traveled in an hour, unless rocket is an option.

But on the bright side, 17 hours of travelling (including a painful 3-hour layover in Bangkok that feels like forever) means he gets the chance to gather his sanity back and feeds himself with a hearty portion of pad thai.  Yes-- and he also manages to refuse the free champagne offered during the flight.

Though he wish he had a glass on the cab ride, as he hasn’t prepared for what he’s about to encounter tonight. The worst possibilities that could crush him, and it only sinks in after he knocked on the door.

“Yukihira.”

“Tsukasa-senpai.” Souma greets coldly. “Where’s Erina?”

“Oh? I-I wouldn’t know, b-but how did you know where I--”

Liar. “No need to cover it up, senpai.” He lets himself in. “I knew she was here.”

“Yes, she was, but I really don’t know where she went after she left.” Eishi closes the door behind him and walks towards him. “But you shouldn’t be worried. Nothing happened.”

At that, he raises a brow cynically, “Nothing happened? So you didn’t try to kiss my girlfriend?”

“W-Well, alright, one thing happened.” Eishi waves two hands in the air, “But you can relax, Yukihira. She uh... rejected me.”

“Oh.” He says-- of course Megumi is right. “But still, what you were tryna do is a dick move. Thought you wouldn’t go that far.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” Eishi sits on the frame of his couch. “She came to me, she looked beaten… What was I supposed to do when all I wanted to do everytime I see her is…”

Souma waits for that answer. He wants him to say it. He knew his suspicion is right, and then he can finally punch him in the face, but it’s as if something is choking him that the words just don’t come out.

“Just… forget it.” He sighs. “But what you did to her is no better. How could you let her wander around like that?”

“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t get it.”

At his brief answer, Eishi curls his lip for a while. His eyes darts to the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table.

“You know, Yukihira. I’m an idiot.” The white haired male finally decided to pour himself a glass, “But you’re even more of an idiot if you think I wouldn’t get it.”

“What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Drink?”

That really isn’t what he’s asking (plus, he’s planning on keeping his kidney), “Nah, I’m good.”

“Okay, ah… I’m not sure if you really want to hear about this, but uh… when Erina and I dated, I’ve never felt so completed. I have flaws, which she gracefully accepted. We had a great time and a meaningful relationship at the same--”

“Aight, senpai. I don’t think bragging’s gonna help.”

“No, no. Just hear me out first.” He takes a short pause to drink. “But I-- I took her for granted nearing the end. I was always busy, cancelled a lot on our dates because I thought I needed those Michelin stars. Hell, I wasn’t even being supportive when she told me her decision to accept your shokugeki. Of course, she eventually grew tired of me, and I couldn’t blame her for it, so when she broke things off with me, I accepted.”

Erina did tell him briefly about the reason she ended things with him, but never in his life he thought he’d be hearing this from Eishi’s point of view. And just when he thought that is all he wants to say, he continues.

“Days went by, months just flew like that, yet I never gotten over her, so one night, I asked her if she wanted to take me back, but… she’s moved on. She was in that same place when I was so hooked on my career and abandoning her. It was too late for me and I knew I blew it.”

Normally, he’s not a good listener to a long, sappy stories like these (heck, some people have called him out for it), but for some reason, with the pain ringing through every word he says, his hearing has seems to intensify.

“And now she found you.” Eishi then chuckles ironically, “Well, she never really lost feelings for you even then, but uh… can I give you a piece of advice?”

His question jolts him up. “Um sure, I guess?”

“Don’t… end up where I am right now.”

“Huh?”

“She seems to really love you.” That sad smile of his emerges again, “Don’t you ever give up on her, Yukihira.”

Coming from him, not only it knocks on him, but it also opens his eyes to a worse outcome if he ever does give up on her.

He could end up like him. He let her go once, and he’s no longer the grande, 4-Michelin-star guy he always sees him as. In front of him is a broken man, full of regret, which biggest fear always haunts him in the back of his mind.

“Whatever problems you’re going through with her may not be easy, but if you’re willing to change her mind little by little each day, it’ll be worth it. Trust me.”

“But why the hell are you telling me all these things?”

When his curiosity comes out, Eishi only answers simply, “Because you make her happier than I ever did.”

“Why so sure about that?”

“I just know.” Then his eyes wander off, “It pains me that it’s not me, but I want her to be happy, so I… I’m gonna finally let her go.”

Souma doesn’t say anything after that, and as if Eishi takes it as a confirmation that he’s settled on what he wants, he swallows all his pride and give Souma one last inch of strength he has to let go of what he’s been holding onto with another smile that doesn’t reach his ears.

“Take good care of her for me, Yukihira.”

So with those last words, Souma rises to his feet and double pat his shoulder on his way out.

He’s coming home.

[zackandlisainthailand]

Thumbs Of Steel

Day 3 (part 2)

Traditional Thai massages hurt. They hurt like the masseuse is angry at me. Like I disrespected their mother in High School and they’ve been nursing a revenge fantasy ever since.

Massage spots litter Thailand. Walk a block in any city in any direction and you’ll likely pass at least one.

An hour-long massage costs about 200 to 600 bhat. That’s roughly $6 on the low end, $18 on the high. Hour-long massages in the states run at least $50, and can range from $100 to $200 if they’re upscale. They are waaaaaaay cheaper here.

Lisa and I decided to try our first full body traditional Thai massage in Chiang Mai at the picturesque Fah Lanna Spa.

Lanna looks like a zen Garden of Eden. It’s all garden paths, jungle plants, wooden bridges over burbling ponds, and massive coi fish.

After we signed up, lisa and I were led upstairs by our masseuses to a quiet, dark-wood room. The masseurs — two women in their 40s or 50s — gestured for us to change into a pair of loose-fitting drab robes. After dressing, we laid face down on a pair of thin mattresses positioned side by side on the floor.

Then the massage started.

—

Legend has it that Thai massage was invented over 2,500 years ago by Shivago Komarpaj, an ancient doctor-to-the-stars, who was personal physician to the Buddha.

Reality is a bit less sensational, but in some ways more interesting.

Historically, Buddhist temples were the place locals visited for all types of healing — medical as well as spiritual. Massage was seen as just one more kind of medicine and was practiced and taught within those temples.

There’s evidence of this at Wat Pho (the temple in Bangkok that houses the enormous reclining buddha). Scrawled on the walls of the Wat are murals depecting Thai massage techniques. The murals date back to the early 1800s.

Because of TTM’s close ties to the buddhist religion, there’s a spiritual sheen surrounding the practice today.

At the start of most massages, the masseuse presses his or her hands together in prayer and bows, giving thanks to Komarpaj — the fabled creator of TTM — for passing this tradition down through generations.

After the bow though, all bets are off.

—

I am a lump of dough and my masseuse, Joy, is the rolling pin.

She rotates my head delicately between her palms. She digs a black wooden stick into the bottoms of my feet, which hurts but leaves a lasting warmth. She yanks each of my arms until my shoulders pop.

Then, she positions her iron thumb on a pressure point near the tendon in my elbow joint and presses, leaving her finger digging into my skin until pain begins to drip down the length of my forearm.

10 seconds pass. The pain continues. I breath. It doesn’t help much.

Laying next to me, Lisa lets out a contented sigh. I wonder if her masseuse isn’t playing fast and loose with her body like it’s a hand-me-down GI-Joe, like mine seems to be.

At some point during the massage I complain about neck pain, thinking Joy will stay away from those areas. Instead, she locks me into a Muay Thai-style hold and presses her metal thumbs into the tendons in my neck. Her fingers feel like ball bearings. I squirm under her grip, fighting the urge to leap away. The pain is so excruciating I think I might scream.

After 30 minutes of soothing, deep muscle rubs, and intensely painful pressure point work, Joy asks me to sit up. I do and she squats behind me, placing her knees under my arm pits. She reaches under my arms, interlaces her fingers behind the back of my head, and whispers, “relax.”

I’m scared, but not about to disobey. I go limp. She begins twisting my torso over her left knee, like I’m a bottle cap she’s trying to pop off a root beer. She eases my right shoulder towards the mat while, at the same time, folds me calmly over her knee.

The embrace is alarmingly intimate, like two wrestlers intertwined seconds before a match. I twist and twist, feeling a warmth growing in my lower back and then suddenly I hear a sharp POP burst from a part of my side I didn’t even know existed and an incredible, rag-doll feeling spreads through my entire body. I laugh out loud, partly from the surprise burst of endorphins, but mostly from the ridiculousness of having a total stranger wring me out like a dish towel. At least get to know me first.

A few more of those twists and pops and the massage is over.

Lisa and I rise, blinking like babies waking from deep slumber. She smiles lazily. “Wow” is all she can say.

A roll my head. The tension in my neck is completely gone. My body feels warm and alive, like I’ve just been through a strenuous yoga class. And, in a real way, we have been.

—

(A sign hanging in the spa, which I loved.)

As amazing as we felt after the massage, after a few more tries at TTM, Lisa and I both decided to stick with foot, hand, and oil massages, which go easier on the tendon pushing/joint pulling and focus more on good ole muscle rubbin’. More what we’re used to.

TTM is an invigorating, sometimes painful, full-body workout. The effects can be amazing, but sometimes it’s nice to just lie on a cushioned table, listen to the muzak of Kenny G, and shut your brain off — especially when you’re on honeymoon.

—

After the massage, we decided to head to Chaing Mai’s Sunday Walking Street, a chain of connected roads that transform into a food and vendor market every Sunday night. The walking street is located in Chaing Mai’s downtown and passes a dozen Wats, some massive, most small. It’s a parade of colorful lights and exotic smells, all in front of towering golden Wat’s housing giant Buddha statues.

Unfortunately, the walking street was insanely packed and miserable. Shoulder to shoulder with thousands of locals and travelers, inching along on cramped streets, it took five minutes to walk a single block.

After a long day of travel and luxurious massage, we’d forgotten to eat. We were both hungry and getting pissed off from moving at a snails pace through throngs of shoppers.

We headed towards Huen Phew, a legendary Thai restaurant. Unfortunately, the wait was an hour for a table. (We also saw an enormous rat scurry into the restaurant while we waited.)

We pushed back into the walking street crowd towards a backup spot called Kaow Tom 1฿, a no-frills open air joint locals love.

After crawling for 15 minutes through the hoard, we made it. The front of the restaurant overlooks the flood of people pushing down walking street. Unsurprisingly, this place was also packed, but packed with Thais. We took it as a good sign and put our names down.

After 10 minutes we got a table, sat, and immediately ordered the khao soi.

Khao soi is the pride of northern Thailand. The dish is made of boiled egg noodles dunked in a spicy, coconut-milk curry, with pickled veggies, chicken or tofu, topped with deep-friend crispy egg noodles.

The dish is unlike anything I’d ever tasted. Sweet and spicy with a strong coconut undercurrent. Tender noodles in curry thick with tangy veggies and tofu. The fried noodles add a savory crunch to the whole mix. Totally unique.

The reason you come to Thailand is to eat dishes like this, and to see happy faces like this when you do.

From hangry to “ahhhh” in khao soi.

[inthesummerswelter]

recipe for disaster: chapter seven

It’s late in the afternoon by the time Ashton’s finished in the shower, climbing out with a yelp as the water turned icy on him before he was done. Slipping on a worn pullover – the string around the hood in near-tatters from where his continual fiddling has broken the plastic on the ends and caused fraying – and a loose pair of sleep trousers after toweling off, he reaches up with an absent-minded hand to tousle his hair in an effort to get the waves to dry faster.

In his other hand lies the letter from Penn’s gran.

He’s quite bewildered, to be honest, as to why Penn’s gran had decided to write him, instead of phoning him or even writing Penn. And, how’d she even get the address to his flat?

Oh, right. He lives right next to Penn.

He takes a moment to pause and reflect on his own stupidity.

Back to his examination of the outside of the envelope, he runs his finger over the slight indents left by way of the handwritten, dark purple cursive, marvelling at how fluid the writing is for a woman in her mid-to-upper eighties, how it lacks any shakiness or arthritic qualities. The stamp is another tiny work of art: a delicate print of a detailed lily-of-the-valley bough embossed in gold, with detailing in the same shade as the ink used in the address.

Finally, he picks up one of his few kitchen knives - the ones that Penn always chides him about and sharpens when she comes over, saying that he’ll end up cutting himself if the blades are dull - and makes to cut the top from the envelope, giving him an opening from which to jimmy the letter out.

But, as soon as the tip of the knife touches the corner of the paper, he suddenly abandons that idea, loathe to open the envelope any way other than the design intended. So, instead, he uses the point of the instrument to pry up an edge of a matching embossed seal with the initials M.A.B. that’s holding it closed.

Setting the knife back into the drawer, he bumps it closed with his hip as he reaches in the envelope and pulls out its contents, spreading them over the small range of his kitchen counter, avoiding multiple leftover boxes of takeaway.

Five pages of paper and another, smaller envelope make an appearance.

He picks up the first of the five pages, hazel eyes going wide as he flips it over in his hands. The quality of the stock matches that of the envelope – thick, with a cream colouration to it rather than a bleached white – as does the handwriting, although it’s much smaller in this form, but no less elegant and refined.

A five page, double-sided, handwritten letter addressed to him. From Penn’s gran.

However, the second envelope is devoid of any address or stamp. All it has is one word written on the front in dark purple ink, with a matching seal on the back.

Penelope.

He can only assume that she intends for him to deliver it to her granddaughter.

Curiosity getting the best of Ashton, he slumps down to the floor, bringing the letters, the least offensively-smelling takeaway box, and a fork down with him.

What’s meant to be a casual dinner whilst perusing the contents of his letter suddenly gets abandoned after the first few paragraphs, the fork shoved hastily into the carton and pushed away after he finishes reading the first page.

Ashton – by way of having a university concentration in philosophy, and thus mountains of readings each night – is by no means a slow reader. However, the complexities laid out in dark purple cursive are intricate enough to rival his hardest assignments of Derrida and Leibniz, which is saying something; consequently, it takes him the better part of three hours to make sense of the whole thing.

Well, three hours included two rereads of the pages, plus a bit of time used for making notes on the whole affair.

When he reaches the end, however, he knows that he needs to be quick about this, to get Penn the other letter as soon as possible. His hand shuffles through his hair again, vaguely noting how much it has dried, as he picks up Penn’s letter and a few misdelivered parcels.

Their postman, regularly and without fail, misdelivers at least two pieces of post between their two flats per week.

As annoying and inconvenient as it may seem, it gives him an excuse to see Penn besides their time at breakfast.

Putting on the slippers that Penn had gifted him last Christmas, Ashton opens the slider door, stepping out into the chilly evening air. It’s quite breezy on the terrace, and he looks around for a moment, taking in the silence that one can only find five floors above the bustle of the street traffic. There are only a few stars out tonight, only a few strong enough to shine through the nighttime clouds and London’s light pollution. Not bad as quite a few other cities, to be sure, but if there’s one thing Ashton misses most about not living in the city, it’s the view that can be found at night when the only objects lighting up the sky are the luminescent moon and strings of constellations.

He’s nearly three-quarters across the outdoor space when he sees it.

Penn, illuminated in the fishbowl lighting permeating her flat, strides about the kitchen, apparently caught in the throes of indecision. She’s cradling a vase of tulips – her favorite flower, Ashton knows, from a detour one day into the depths of a flower stand – in her left arm while the right is tapping frenetically on the counter.

And she looks nice. Not dressed up really fancily, no. Just in her normal nighttime attire of a jumper and soft, flannel trousers. But she looks just really…nice.

She hears something, though, and spins quickly, nearly dropping the vase before she sets it gingerly on the counter atop what looks like a newspaper and begins to sprint towards the door, pausing right before she gets there. It looks like she takes a breath, and then the door opens.

Ashton watches for a few, tense moments, as a tall, lean stranger leans down to greet the dogs, scratching them familiarly on their bellies, Penn stock-still behind them.

The man slowly stretches upwards, reaching his full height nearly a head above Penn. Ashton draws a strange sense of pride in knowing that he’s just a bit taller than that. Shouldn’t make him that happy, but it does.

But then it’s like the wind gets knocked out of him, as Penn leaps forward across the gap separating the pair and into a tight, almost intimate embrace, with her head tucked into the crook of his neck and his hand spread across the curve of her waist, fingers digging in slightly.

This is when he realizes that his own hands are clenched around the slider door’s handle, that he’s crossed the last stretch of the terrace without even knowing it.

So, he pokes his head in and receives another punch to the stomach as they separate, Penn looking guiltily at him as he says, “Um. Am I interrupting something?”

  She doesn’t know where she’s going to put the fucking flowers.

Penn doesn’t even know why she had bought them. Just a whim on her way to the grocer’s, thought they might look nice on a counter somewhere.

The glass is slippery in her hands, palms sweating slightly with nerves. What if he’s different? What if he’s changed so much that she doesn’t recognise him anymore? What if he doesn’t recognise her? What if they’re different people now, and they don’t connect like they used to?

What if –?

The door opens, and a familiar voice calls out, “Penn! Where’re you?”

Cardy immediately races to the door, because she knows that voice – or, rather, her stomach knows that voice – and Clove isn’t far behind her.

And Penn’s not far behind the dogs.

She ends up setting the tulips down on the table where she’s been reading the most recent newspaper that’s been misdelivered to her apartment, she makes her way to the front, watching Zayn fondly ruffle the ears and pat the stomachs of the two dogs who’re more interested in anything that he’s got in his pockets.

Eventually they settle down, and the pair step back and begin to walk small circles around where Zayn’s still standing in the entryway, tails and tongues wagging, and Penn takes that as her cue to greet him.

He smiles, and then it’s all over for her. Leaping up into his arms, she curls her hands in the folds of his leather jacket, and he smells like cigarettes and mint and home.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, yourself,” he rumbles back, and she feels it in her bones more thank actually hears the words out loud, and she almost cries, because here’s what was important in Bradford to her, packaged into human form.

And then it’s him who says the worst words that have the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, threatening to actually slip out.

“I missed you, Penn.”

“You’re a goof. But I’ve missed you, too.”

And she can feel how his smile grows wider from where his face is pressed into the side of her hair and how his eyelashes skate across the fragile skin of her ear, and she doesn’t want to let go, let him go away again and –

“Um. Am I interrupting something?”

They separate slowly, and Penn turns her head, searching for the owner to the voice. Ashton’s just sort of peeking his head through the slider door, one foot across the doorjamb, clad in a fluffy slipper. His hair’s mussed more than usual, if possible, and he’s got a strange expression on his face, a frown that Penn wants to smooth over as quickly as possible.

“Ah, Ashton, this is my best friend, Zayn. He’s originally from Bradford, like me, but he’s been traveling a lot over the years. He was in Bangkok last time I heard from him, I think. Zayn, Ashton, my neighbor. He’s a university student.”

“Cheers, mate,” Zayn says, as he steps around Penn to hold out a hand for Ashton to shake, and she notices that he’s gotten even more tattoos, if that’s even possible and how Ashton’s still frowning a bit, but in a different way. But Ashton quickly wipes the expression off his face and returns the shake, clasping Zayn’s hand firmly.

“Cheers. I was just stopping by to drop off your mail, Penn. It got sent to me again.” He holds up a stack of papers that Penn takes and nearly drops, a single envelope slipping its way out from the pile, and begins to make his way back out onto the terrace quickly, avoiding Penn’s gaze.

“Wait, you don’t have to go! Stick around for a bit,” Zayn calls out after him, and Ashton begins stammering excuses and playing with the cuffs of his jumper until Penn deliberately sets out three places for a bit of late-night tea. He reluctantly slides into one of the seats at the table, and Penn drags up a stool for her to sit at the end.

“So,” Zayn says after some mild conversation. “Penn’s gonna tell you how we met, aren’t you, Penn?”

And when she’s put under the spot like that, with not just one, but two pairs of puppy-eyes put on her, what’s a girl to do?

  Penn didn’t know she was a fan of live music until she got dragged into a venue by one of her former best friends at the spectacularly young age of fifteen.

 (The fact that she refused to call her anything other than Penny might have been another large reason as to why they don’t keep in contact anymore.)

As soon as they had arrived, Rissa managed to locate a boy who was attractive to her simply by the sheer amount of alcohol he had been able to sneak in. Penn, of course, was turned off by the skeezy-looking moustache moldering on top of his greasy fish-lips, but that seemed to sneak past Rissa’s notice.

Penn had taken her leave from them as quickly as possible – and her ticket and Rissa’s keys, because she’d obviously be the one driving them home now – and meandered away from the unmistakable scent of weed that coated the lawn portion of the outdoor venue.

Her destination ended up near the pit, almost purely because it was a lot harder for someone to have a cigarette dangling off the corner of one’s mouth when everyone else was generally jumping and moshing about.

So Penn – wallet, keys, and other various important items to be carried on her person made secure – wormed her way in, pushing about the crowd of bodies to get a relatively decent third or fourth row spot, right in the front.

Which may have not been the best decision, considering that fifteen year-old Penn had yet to hit her growth spurt to bring her up to her towering hundred and sixty centimetres – yes, she’s got the height of an absolute gnome, okay – and she just about got herself brained by the flying foot of a crowd-surfer.

But then she stood up and began to move with the crowd and really feel the beat, and Penn thought that she might just maybe understand what Rissa was saying.

Penn decided she loved the concert atmosphere: the tenuous connection that’s shared between every single person in the audience for the quick five or so hours that pass in a blink, the sweat mingling with the pound of the kick-snare that makes her ears jump, the fucking solidarity of people who love good music and want to show the band on stage that they’re the fucking world to them.

It helped that that’s where she met Zayn who quickly began to take her under his wing. She had gotten shoved so much she had made an intimate acquaintance with his back after being jostled by some overly-excitable and quite beefy fans. He had offered her a hand when she finally had gotten pushed to the ground and gave her some tips on where to throw an elbow if things got too rough.  

Well, the whole under-the-wing thing really began to take off after Rissa had been put on house arrest by her parents, who finally caught wind of their daughter’s unauthorized activities.

Zayn had begun to buy an extra ticket for Penn for shows he’d thought she’d like, would mail it to her and pick her up every night before the gig, would introduce her to his mates, even though she was three years younger than all of them.

Penn adored Zayn.

And then he made it big – well, semi-big, really – and began to tour small venues around the U.K. for a few years, and Penn got out of the habit of going to concerts, being quite busy with her dishwashing job which had sort of transformed into jack-of-all-trades kitchen work, surprising as that was. It was a boring existence. She’s not trying to fool anyone here.

But then it was a Tuesday, and she had a postcard in the mail. Splashed across the front was one of those cheesy “Welcome to ___________” tropical artworks, but black marker had obliterated the original destination. Instead, Bradford was written across it in big block letters, and the back was covered with spidery writing and a ticket.

A ticket to Zayn’s show.

  Ashton’s all curled around the table now, leaning forward until he’s practically dragging the strings of his hoodie in his tea, completely entranced in the story.

It’s so fucking him to do that, and Zayn smiles when she rolls her eyes at his childish behavior. And that’s such a Zayn thing to do, goddamnit.

(He’s probably plotting something, too. He always gets that look when he’s plotting.)

“What next? Did she go? Did you go?”

“What do you think, idiot? I wasn’t going to miss my first chance in three years to see my best friend again.”

  Zayn was ace, as always, his voice only having improved from when he sang along with the radio while driving Penn home all those nights.

Everyone in the pit had gone wild for a local boy playing, hometown solidarity come out in full force.

And she meant full force quite literally. It was like the whole of Bradford’s youth had packed itself into the green-space and the concrete pit, and, shit, was Penn feeling it. She’d already gotten hit in the kidneys by a sharp hip, and she reveled in the energy, sure, but not in the bruises she would find the next morning.

It didn’t help that she ended up being escorted by security to the middle of the second row and the fact that he ended up dedicating a song to her.  

Turns out that there were a few groupies behind her that didn’t take too kindly that Penn was on friendly terms with Zayn.

It was typical for her to come out of the pit with a few battle scars to last the rest of the week. She even had a long, white scar tracing up the front of her left knee, but that one was partially her fault anyway.

Penn dusted herself off, trying to get caught up in the music once again, when she got pushed in the back again, more forcefully this time. Turning around, she was just about to tell them to go and fuck themselves because she sure as hell wasn’t going to move, but the person behind her was definitely not female.

Judging by the defined chest that she found her face pressed into, this person was instead most definitely male.

Penn looked straight up into shining blue eyes and a bright smile that showed more teeth than she thought it was possible for a person to possess. That’s not to say that it wasn’t a nice smile, for it was. It was very nice.

“Just enjoy the show, love,” he said, as gentle hands spun her back around, and she made eye contact with Zayn, nodding to let him know she was alright.

Never saw the bloke again, though.

At least, not until he was hired at the restaurant as the newest chef de partie.

   “And that’s how Penn met Louis, too, though she practically hates him now, right?” Zayn chuckles at the memory of walking in the middle of Penn and Louis having one of their famous spats outside the back of the restaurant.

“Louis?” Ashton does that head-tilting thing again, and Penn really just wants to punch him. “That bloke with the wild hair who walked into breakfast a few days ago after he crashed on the sofa?”

“Look who’s talking,” Penn mumbles, gesturing off-hand to the mess of waves that made up Ashton’s hair, before Zayn cuts in incredulously.

“You had Louis stay overnight? We’re talking about the same person, right?”

Penn rolls her eyes, but now she’s got both Ashton and Zayn staring at her questioningly. “Yes. The same Louis. He got roaring drunk one night after work, and I couldn’t get his address out of him, so I just let him sleep it off on the couch.

Ashton murmurs, “So that’s what happened…,” rubbing a hand across his jaw thoughtfully.

Zayn’s still stunned though, it seems. “So, um, I guess you don’t hate him so much anymore, huh?”

She’s about had enough of this interrogation at this point. It’s his tone that does her in, like he’s suggesting some sort of, like, fucking illicit affair between them. God, she doesn’t know the fucking increments of hatred that she has for Louis anymore, and what does it matter anyway? Really, why does Zayn care?

Choosing instead to ignore the question, she picks up her cup and announces that she’s heading to bed, willfully blocking out how Zayn and Ashton stay up late talking long after she’s shut off her lights and curled up under her duvet.

It’s just too much to think about right now, so she just smooshes her pillow over her head and lets Clove shove his cold nose in her armpit, wishing she could talk to her gran.

[veronicaprescott]

A Dozen Sunsets

Sometimes when I’m driving home after work, I drive towards a really incredible sunset. A thousand different shades of orange, red, yellow, and pink consume the entire sky like paint on a blank canvas and I stare at the sun’s creation like an art buff at the Louvre. When I see a beautiful sunset a dozen romantic cliches run through my head. I think about all of the different types of sunsets I long to experience. And if I’m lucky enough to experience even just one magical sunset and the happiness that goes along with it, that’ll be more than enough.

I think about how I long to see a glorious beach sunset. Just me and the one I love sitting on a picnic blanket at a quiet beach, the silence of the solitude only interrupted by the crashing of waves onto the shore, the chilly breeze forcing us to get cosier and cosier, not that we mind, and the sky above us, a kaleidoscope of colour.

I daydream about the sunset on Christmas Eve where everything is so frantic but so exciting. Panicking when we see it’s getting dark because we realise we still have a dozen presents to wrap and also because Santa’s going to be here soon. Taking one last look at the sky and saying hello to one of the loveliest days of the year. Teasing each other about the gifts we got. A sunset that signals the arrival of a day for family and love.

I fantasise over a New York City sunset. The kind of sunset that manoeuvres past a seemingly never ending collection of skyscrapers just to shine into my hotel room, illuminating the entire place with gold and copper tones as I lie on the crisp, white hotel bed sheets waiting for the love of my life to finish getting ready for a night in the city that never sleeps. I smell her perfume and I can hear the hustle and bustle of the city 45 storeys below.

I need to experience a sunset that is almost as colourful as my girlfriend and I dressed up for Pride. The sky a blaze with almost all the colours of the Pride flag, shining down on us as we celebrate our love with thousands of other people. As the day succumbs to the darkness, the sunset signals that it’s time for us to take our party from the streets to rainbow-filled bars and clubs that litter the city and we carry the memories of our colourful day with us forever. The beautiful sunset evokes an outpouring of romance and kisses and we thank our lucky stars that we are lucky enough to see something beautiful and be beautiful people.

I wonder how amazing it would be to take my love to Bangkok to see the sunset from one of the most amazing rooftop bars I’ve ever been to. Watching as the city is showered in an electrifying pink sunset before turning to darkness with the millions of lights from the thousands of buildings twinkling like stars in the night sky. Setting the scene for us to spend a night sitting outside eating and drinking and laughing as we get lost in the rabble of tourists.

I stop to think what it would be like to see a sunset in a forest. The type that shimmers through the trees, sneaking its way to the secluded path my partner and I are attempting to navigate despite the foot of snow that lies upon it. Hurriedly attempting to reach the cabin before darkness falls upon us whilst simultaneously being unable to leave the beauty of the autumnal coloured sky over the wintery landscape before us. The only thing stopping our hands from suffering from frostbite is the simple fact that they are holding each other.

I dream about how amazing it would it be to see the sunset over Sydney Harbour. Turning a place filled with bittersweet memories for me into a place and a memory as golden as the sun that illuminates the entire city. Waiting on the grass by the water for New Year’s Eve celebrations to begin. Waiting to make new memories, ones that hopefully won’t become bittersweet. Please don’t let them become bittersweet.

I hope that one day if I’m lucky enough to get married, I can go to Hawaii on my honeymoon and see another beach sunset, but this time we’re dressed in our finest clothes and we’re eating the most delicious meal we’ve ever tasted at a 5-star beach front restaurant. The sea breeze subtly blowing my love’s hair to reveal the golden holiday glow which consumes her face. Meanwhile purples and oranges battle in the sky above us using every shade they have as a weapon in their quest to conquer the full sky even if just for a few minutes. 

I crave the sunset that consumes the horizon on the deserted roads ahead of my wife and I as we drive through the USA in our snuggly little camper van, alternating between listening to crime podcasts and hand crafted music playlists, taking way too many pictures of the way the setting sun cascades over the desert rock formations. Enjoying every second of every moment because life just couldn’t get any better than this.

I’d love to be on top of the world and see a sunset fall upon a city like a blanket on a sleeping child. I think about the rush of hiking up Runyon Canyon in LA with a group of friends, equipped with only torches and snacks, ready to watch the world go by. Watch as a simple but still mesmerising sunset lights up the city one last time for today. The sounds of my friends and I laughing and joking as we put a few cliche sunset photos on social media.

I can’t wait to get lost in Madrid as the sun sets above us. Weaving in and out of bars and restaurants through the maze of streets as daylight fades. The fiery blaze of the sky matched by the fiery atmosphere in the calles below. Our hands intertwined like the yellows and oranges that light up the buildings and our faces. The gorgeous sky almost enough to keep us from retreating inside the next bar to test the delicious tapas, but not quite.

The sunset I crave the most, however, is the one that happens every day. The unassuming one that we barely keep tabs on as we cook dinner together in our kitchen after a hard day at work; the day saved only by getting to go home to each other. The kind of sunset that we might not even notice because we’re too busy listening to each other talk about our day. Too busy catching up on our favourite TV shows and gossiping about the latest goings on at the office. Too busy eating dinner and gazing into each other’s eyes like the cheesy couple we are. The kind of sunset that marks the end of the day, but the start of our night together. The kind of sunset that subtly reminds me just how much I love her.

What sunsets do you dream about?