#wayland ward

[ittybitty-arts]

those gay dnd guys huh?

(not all of these fantastic guys belong to me!) Wayland - loneliestcactus Jay - skizabaa QinQen - kupadraws Triangle Bird Thing (our lovely DM) & Orson - tuzesdays Pix - valencrime Sorrel - frostios Mallory - ecruteaky Bevelen - MINE thats my guy :]

[rabbitcruiser]

The New York Stock Exchange was founded on March 8, 1817.  

[alexanderlightweight]

May we please have more eldritch magic for "the core of me belongs to you"? I'm in love with all of your works and have started making my way through your catalog! I'm having so much fun reading all your works!

thank you! i hope you enjoyed what you found. here is alec's thoughts pre-meeting magnus or raphael or clary

<3 lumine

the core of me belongs to you

-

Alec wakes to a new thrumming in the magic surrounding the Institute.  The wards that he’s known intimately for years now are gently changed, updated and perfected.  Most would be unable to tell, but Alec knows.  

He always knows.

Magnus Bane again then, good. Alec would have lost his temper if his hunters had messed up and allowed a different warlock to adjust the wards Alec allows.

He’s never met the warlock in person, however he’s had the privilege of feeling his magic and that alone makes him feel as though he’s met the man.

Magnus Bane’s reputation proceeds him, but despite the many times Alec has poured over his file and read up on his deeds — mostly misdeeds in the eyes of the clave — the man whose magic he knows so intimately, cannot be the man described.

There is a lack of elegance and intelligence in the clave’s records and Alec knows they’re nearly worthless.

In truth, he doubts there are words enough to truly explain just who Magnus Bane is. 

Alec would like to try though, if he ever gets the privilege of meeting the man in person.

He won’t get the chance anytime soon as he’s always indisposed while the wards are being updated, but he waits for it nonetheless.

Magnus’ magic has a certain feel to it.  A flair so to speak, unlike the cold and steady angelic magic that Alec is most familiar with.  It’s warm and bright and fiery, full of energy and emotion and rich with power.  There is a wealth of knowledge carried in a single spark of Magnus’ magic and Alec wishes he held the key to deciphering it.

Instead he carries on.  

Does his duty.  

Protects the nephilim of New York, helps destroy the demons who skulk about, tries to instill some order in the Institute's halls and generally finds himself despairing at the many issues that come about from children being forced to grow too quickly.

He knows for a fact that nephilim grow up fast. Those slated to be shadowhunters grow even faster, but Isabelle Lightwood and Jace Wayland grow fast in abilities and slow in maturity.  If he has to bail them out of a tricky situation one more time, well.

Let’s just say that Alec had a dungeon full of cells and plenty of empty spaces.

[lurafita]

Magnus discovers Jace's heritage

In today's episode of 'imaginary scenes that never canonically happened but still live in my head rent free':

Magnus: "So my dear shadowhunters, what's new? Catch me up."

Clary: "Valentine is Jace's father. We are siblings."

Jace: "And he injected me with demon blood while I was still in my mother’s womb."

Alec: "He disguised himself as Wayland for all those years he raised Jace in Exile."

Magnus, sighing: "... Where do I even begin... Okay. You two are aware that you look nothing alike, right?"

Clary: "Recessive genes can do that."

Magnus, sighing louder: "...Alright, Blondie. Strip."

Jace: "What, why?!"

Alec: "Uhm, yeah, what he said." (not that he is jealous that Magnus wants to see another man naked. No sir. He is very decidedly not jealous. ... he will find a reason to shuck his shirt in front of Magnus later.)

Magnus: "This institute is protected by my wards. As is Pandemonium, as well as my apartment, which is warded even heavier. All of which you have been present in. You have been to the Silent City and were in the presence of the silent brothers. There are exactly two ways to keep demonic blood from being discovered by either angelic runes like they are at the silent city, the silent brothers themselves, or my wards. One is regular contact with a very powerful warlock to cast a very complicated spell on you. As I doubt you have been seeing one for every month of your life, that leaves number 2. Which is a demonic mark, which can only be given by a greater demon, and can only be seen by those who know it and are actively looking for it. So, off with those drab clothes so I can take a look."

Jace: strips

Magnus: sees the Herondale birthmark, sighs and starts to write a fire message

Alec: "What are you doing?"

Magnus: "Informing the Inquisitor that she has a grandson. 'Congratulations, it's a boy!'"

[themagnusbane]

Murder at the New York Institute

Title: Murder at the New York Institute

Artist: @la-muerta

Rating: Mature (Chapter 7 only. Will give a heads-up)

Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Jace Herondale/Simon Lewis

Word Count: ~27k

Summary: Pull out the Cluedo board they said. It would be fun to play they said. Nothing could possibly happen on Samhain they said. And now, Magnus and Alec, Clary and Izzy, Simon and Jace have been pulled into an alternate New York Institute, with no powers, no idea what has caused it, or who has brought them there. Oh. And there’s been a murder. Except, can you kill a dead man twice? And can Valentine Morgenstern just SHUT THE FUCK UP!

This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Chapter Three: Mister Lewis

The first thing Simon noticed when he came to was the green. Lots and lots of it. Sure there were the red roses that Clary loved. The Jasmine that Magnus often said, reminded him of home. The black calla lilies that Alec always drifted to, because they were his mother’s favourite.  Jace’s beloved Hydrangeas that he’d been looking after since he was brought to the institute as a child. And the poison ivy that Isabelle adored, because of the many ways she could use them to torture those she found particularly unpleasant, or for when Jace was unfortunate enough to have pissed her off and had itches for WEEKS before anybody figured it out. 

Simon grinned. 

Ah. That was a good time. Poor Jace who couldn’t stop scratching himself, and Izzy with her giggles whenever he was out of earshot. 

Simon’s eyes glanced over the flowers and plants, spread out in a room that was cool and quiet; thick with moisture he could practically taste. 

Nothing looked quite like, or smelled like the gloriousness of the Institute’s Greenhouse.

But quiet wasn’t a word he would have used for it either, and that was all that was drumming in his head at the moment. The absolute silence and stillness of a place that was always bursting with movement and filled with clamoring voices, all wanting different things. 

He’d once asked Hodge, before the latter had betrayed them to Valentine for a chance at freedom, if there was a room in the institute where a person could catch their thoughts and settle in some silence. 

Hodge had taken a couple of seconds to deliberate before he’d pointed Simon to the Greenhouse, which wasn’t completely silent. But, it was quieter than most, and was a place Simon had found particularly comforting as he transitioned into his life as a newly turned vampire. 

And even after he became a daylighter, he still found himself coming to the Greenhouse. The Institute might have become a second home to Clary, but the Greenhouse was where Simon felt most at home. The plants didn’t judge him. Didn’t look at him with suspicion when they caught a glimpse of his canines. He never saw them and had the thought that they were imagining what innocent mundane he might have bitten before coming into the institute. 

Sure, Alec and Izzy never made him feel less. And Jace, even less so. But it didn’t mean that he was blind to the fact that the other Shadowhunters most likely asked themselves why the head of the New York Institute, his sister, his sister’s girlfriend, and his parabatai kept such company. Magnus they could tolerate because no matter how they felt, they needed Magnus Bane. They needed him and his magic, renewing the wards, strengthening the portals, healing them of certain ailments, and being the mediator and intermediary with other Downworld leaders. 

Magnus Bane wasn’t the person, any right thinking Shadowhunter would disdain, or worse, be stupid enough to show it. He was different. 

Simon however, didn’t bring much to the table, except for his great ear for music, his green thumb that kept the Greenhouse in a state of beautiful bloom, if he did say so himself, and his ability to make Jace Wayland act freely in a way that Alec and Izzy both, had told him he had never done before. Even when he was a child. 

It made Simon feel warm. 

And he would feel infinitely warmer if he could hear his boyfriend’s voice. 

“Jace? Jace? Can you hear me? Jace?”

Nothing. He’d been calling for Jace, and Clary and Izzy, for the last ten minutes or so. But nobody responded. He’d tried calling Magnus and Alec as well. Nothing. 

That and the utter silence that was the Greenhouse, which yes, was usually empty when he came to tend to the plants and sing to them whilst he wrote new songs for the band, but was never this quiet, had confirmed to him that this might look like the Institute, but it was definitely not the institute he knew and had come to love. 

This wasn’t home. And Jace wasn’t here. Which made everything so much worse. 

But sitting in one spot, trying to figure out where he was and why he seemed to be the only person here was definitely not going to do him any favours, or get him closer to being home. 

So, best to get moving and figure out what could be done. 

He walked by the flowering hibiscus, running careful fingers over the petals; collected a bit of water from the leaf of an aloe vera, and gave the flesh-eating cactus a wide berth. This might not be the Institute he was familiar with, and maybe the cactus just looked similar to the one they had back at his Institute, but he wasn’t about to risk it. Especially when the last time he had come too close to the plant, it had tried eating him. As a joke. Magnus’s words. 

Simon shook his head and laughed. 

Gods. The High Warlock of Brooklyn did say the most insane things sometimes. 

Simon reached the door that would lead him out of the Greenhouse and into the hallway, which would hopefully lead him to something or someone who could give him some much needed answers. He grasped the handle and turned it.

He made to walk out of the door and found himself, ass on the floor, staring at the open door and the nothingness that had sent him skidding backwards, cost him his footing and saw him land on the floor. 

What the fuck?!

A quick glance showed that he was still alone in the room, and he breathed a sigh of relief. If Clary had seen that, she would not have let him live it down. 

He thought about Jace. Jace wouldn’t have either. 

Of course it was his luck that his best friend and boyfriend loved nothing more than to tease him about his clumsiness. But the more he had gotten comfortable in his remade body as a vampire, the less frequent the instances of clumsiness had been. 

But this wasn’t even him being clumsy. It was something at the door, keeping him from stepping out of the room. And whatever it was, had sent him careening backwards when he’d tried forcing his way out of said room. 

Simon got to his feet, and walked back to the door, carefully checking the door’s hinges, the knob, the wood, eyes searching for anything that might be amiss. 

He didn’t see anything wrong. It was for all accounts and purposes, a pretty functional door. And utterly identical to the one that was back home. The only difference was that he seemingly could not leave the space. 

Simon stretched out his hands, carefully feeling the air, unsure of what he expected to feel, but sure he would know if he felt it. 

And sure enough. His hands touched what seemed like a barrier. Something that had enough density to hold a shape as far as his hands could touch, but was buoyant enough to send him flying back if he pushed too far into it. Like a rubber band snapping back into its original position. And the original position it seemed was keeping him trapped here. 

That wouldn’t do at all. 

Simon sat back, cross-legged on the floor, closed his eyes, and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited some more. 

Finally, he heard a huff of breath. 

“Do you intend to just sit there for all eternity, doing nothing?”

“I’m a vampire. Eternity is nothing to me. And last I checked,” he opened his eyes. “You’re dead Valentine Morgenstern. Why am I talking to a dead man?”

“Ah. You surprise me, Simon Lewis. Everyone else responded with the incessant disbelieving question of Valentine? Valentine Morgenstern? the first time they heard my voice. Even Magnus Bane. You’re the only one who seems particularly calm about hearing me.”

Simon shrugged. “I’ve had practice.”

“Hearing from dead people?”

“Hearing voices that only I can hear, and seeing vampire reflections in my mirrors.”

“What does that mean?”

“Remind me to tell you all about how I finally became a vampire, when I have the chance.”

“No thank you. This conversation is enough as is. I’m sure you’re a… riveting conversationalist, but I don’t care.”

Another shrug. “Suit yourself.” Just as he made to close his eyes for a quick nap, Simon’s eyes snapped right back open. “Wait a minute. Did you say the others? What others? Have you seen Jace? Clary? Magnus? Alec? Izzy? What others?”

Silence. 

Simon waited and waited for Valentine to say something. To clarify what he meant by the others’ reaction to his words, but all he was met with, was silence. 

“Come on Valentine. I didn’t think you were shy.”

More silence. 

“You know, I’d always thought of you like one of those villains in movies. The ones who keep yapping whilst the hero is thinking very quickly about finding his escape and defeating them. You know, like Goldfinger. Have you ever watched Goldfinger? Do you watch James Bond movies? Action flicks? Spy films? I heard that—“

“By the angel, will you shut the fuck up!”

Simon grinned. 

The audacity of Valentine to think that he could keep things to himself when Simon was ready to talk his ears off. Ha!

“I have spoken to Isabelle and Magnus.”

“And they’re here? In this facsimile of an Institute?”

“Facsimile? Why I’m almost impressed Lewis. Who would have thought that you knew how to use such big words?”

“I know Valentine. I try. Hey. If you want, I can spend the next couple of hours reading out random four to five syllable words that might fascinate you. Hell, I can go even higher than that.”

Valentine sighed. 

“I blame myself for talking to you. I should have just kept it moving. Death shouldn’t be this draining.”

“Yeah. About that. Why aren’t you dead anymore?”

“It’s a question I have been asking myself since I got brought here alongside you all.”

Simon rubbed his chin in thought. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

“The thought of us having the exact same enemy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, clearly this is someone out to get us all or something. Alec, Jace, Izzy and Clary keep getting into scrapes. I’m sure people whose plans were foiled by them, like they did with you—“

“Hmmmph!”

Simon smirked. “—probably have it out for them, and Magnus and I were pulled in by virtue of our connections to them. You on the other hand, don’t fit. You were one of the big bads. One of the villains. The antagonist of this tale. The chief miscreant that other troublemakers would ideally like and gravitate towards. One could even say idealize. The devil spawn that—“

“You are the spawn. And I cannot believe I’m stuck here having this conversation with you. I blame myself for not waiting for the system to give you the instructions first. Teach me to jump the gun next time.”

“System? What system?”

This one. Please roll the dice to move, Mister Lewis. 

“Fucking hell!” Simon blurted the words without really thinking. 

He’d been comfortable hearing Valentine’s voice bounce around in the space, because that was something familiar. And by trading jabs with Valentine, he was able to focus, stay sane and THINK! 

He didn’t count on a new voice joining Valentine’s though. Especially a voice that sounded just a tad bit frustrated and impatient? 

Simon made a mental note. He could work with that. 

But back to what he’d been asked to do. 

Roll the dice to move. Roll the dice to move? What was this, a game? 

Simon froze. 

He looked around the space, taking in the details. Greenhouse. Valentine had said that he had spoken to Izzy and Magnus. So it seemed whatever brought them into this world, had done so in order, like they were players on the fucking board. 

And what game had they been playing before he found himself in his present predicament???

Fuck. FUCK! Magnus was right. Fucking Cluedo!

But, if this was the world of Cluedo, then that must mean there had been a murder? 

“Valentine. Are you the murder victim?”

There was a long pause. “Unfortunately.”

“Damn. Must suck to be you. Dead twice over.”

“Fuck off and shut up Lewis. Just figure out what exactly is happening, so I can return back to an eternity of bliss without having to deal with you Downworlders and irritating shadowhunters.”

Simon threw a mock salute. “Sure thing boss.” He felt the calm seeping back in. Things were easier to deal with, now that he knew what was happening, where they were in a sense, and the fact that he wasn’t alone in the space. 

Plus, thanks to all the time he’d spent in the Greenhouse, he knew the room better than anyone else in the Institute. 

Including all about its secret doors.

“Roll the dice.”

You have rolled a 12, Mr. Lewis. How do you want to proceed?”

“I’ll be taking the secret passageway from the Greenhouse to the Library,” Simon responded, as he walked over to the string of turtles that grown over a ledge to form a curtain that hid the knob, which when pushed had the massive wardrobe in the corner of the room shift around to reveal a path that took him from the Greenhouse to the Library. Hopefully, it worked the same  way in whatever world they had been pulled in, as it did in theirs.

The first time he’d discovered the secret passageway, he had been so delighted. Jace had teased him about his love for Agatha Christie and secret passage, and had spent the rest of the night showing him how well he knew every corner and crevice of Simon’s body. 

Simon twitched, just as the false door pulled back. He did a quick glance around, searching for something he could possibly use to protect himself, just in case. He almost laughed at the thought. What weapon was stronger than his fangs and superhuman strength and speed anyway? 

But Jace always insisted that he grab something as a weapon, whenever he was in a situation he was uncertain of, just in case. And Simon intended to do just that. 

He noticed the lead pipe, leaning against the edge of the wardrobe, and reached over to grab it; checking the heft of it. 

It was decent. Would probably make a decent dip in the head of whoever tried attacking him. So, in his book, it would definitely do. 

With a weapon in hand, Simon nodded, and stepped through, vampire eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. 

As he walked down the short passageway, he kept count of his steps, and braced himself for anything he might run into whilst heading to the library. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Back at the real institute, the fear of running into someone else whilst he was making his trip to the library, was never really a concern for him. Few knew the secret passageways that connected some of the rooms in the institute, and the ones that knew about the one in the Greenhouse, never bothered him about it. 

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight. 

It was an unspoken rule at the New York Institute that Jace could often be found in the library—even if he never liked to admit that he was as much a bookworm as Simon was—and Simon could always be found in the Greenhouse. Having the two of them connected by a passageway, used by only them, seemed fitting actually.

Nine. 

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

And sure enough, he found himself on the other end of the library door. 

Hopefully there wouldn’t be anybody else on the other side. And if there were, he would not have startled them too badly, and have them reaching for a weapon to protect themselves, whilst causing him harm. 

Just in case, Simon tightened his grip on the lead pipe, as he turned the knob, and pushed one of the panels in, using the momentum to grant himself access to a room, that was darker than what he could recall in his memory. 

As his eyes adjusted, taking note of the myriad of candlesticks and the absence of light switches—that explains it—his eyes connected with Izzy and Clary both, who looked at him in shock, eyes wide in surprise as he stepped in through what was often mistaken for solid wooden walls.

He stepped through, and the door closed behind him. 

“Simon?”

“Hey, Fray.”

He heard a scream, and found his arms filled with his best friend who was patting his face, repeatedly to convince herself that he was there, whilst screaming loudly at him about the Cluedo board, that they all collectively guessed was responsible for their present predicament. 

“I know. I know.”

“But do you though? Where on earth did you pick it up Simon,” Clary asked, the volume of her voice finally dropping lower, as Simon fell into one of the waiting armchairs. 

“Target.”

Izzy scrunched her nose. “Is there a magical Target that the rest of us don’t know about?”

“Nope. Just regular old Target. It’s why I’m confused about why this happened. It makes zero sense.”

And it will continue to make zero sense if you do not proceed. 

At the sound of the voice, they all shut up. 

Simon sucked in air through his teeth. In his excitement at seeing Clary and Izzy, he’d totally forgotten what had actually led him to the room. 

And if they were playing by Cluedo rules, then that meant that because he was in a designated room, he could name a suspect. He had a theory, but he needed it confirmed first. 

“Izzy, Clary, how did you two make it to the library?”

“I started here.”

“Oh nice. I started in the Greenhouse.”

“Ah. So you used the secret passageway?”

“Yes I did.”

Izzy smiled. “Who knew all the time of you and Jace sneaking around would come in handy?”

Simon tsked. “There was no sneaking around. I walked. Proudly.”

Izzy chortled. “That you did Simon. That you did.”

“And Clary?”

“Izzy named me and I was transported to this room.”

Simon nodded. “Guessed as much. And where were you before you were transported?”

Clary jerked her thumb behind her, in the direction of the door. “The weapons room.”

Weapons. Ah. 

His eyes swung down to the lead pipe he held, and the candlestick that Izzy was carrying. “Nice candlestick.”

Izzy snorted. “Nice pipe.”

“That’s what he said.”

It was an absent minded response, but totally worth the sharp surprised crack of Izzy’s laughter as she chortled. “OMG! I can’t believe you just said that. I am totally telling Jace!”

“Telling Jace what?”

Simon, Clary, and Izzy, collectively turned to the door to the library, as Jace strode into the room. 

Simon gaped. 

“What… What are you wearing?”

Simon’s eyes took in the uniform. The boots. The tailored pants. The black belt with its heavy buckle. The coat stretched over Jace’s broad shoulders. The eagle insignia over his shoulder. 

His eyes widened. “Colonel?”

“Colonel Jace Wayland at your service,” Jace said with a slight bow in Simon’s direction, a smirk on his full lips.

Simon swallowed. 

Jace’s smirk deepened. 

“Seriously you too. Get a room. Or better yet, wait until we’re back home. Then you can celebrate all you want.”

Simon shook his head, to get rid of the image of Jace, on a bed, wearing nothing but that coat. The belt tightened his wrists. Golden skin iridescent in the moonlight.

He saw Jace’s eyes flare, and Simon licked his lips. 

Later. Definitely later. 

“Well now that you both are done eye fucking,” Izzy snorted, drawing Simon and Jace’s attention to her. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, I think it’s best we all be in the same space, so we can brainstorm on what the fuck is happening and how the fuck we got here.”

Everyone nodded.

“Clary, you said you were in the weapons room, when Izzy pulled you into the study?” Simon asked. 

“Yes. Moments before you came in, actually.”

“Good. So you haven’t done your turn yet.” Simon nodded. “Best we get Magnus and Alec in here.”

“You’ll take Magnus?” Clary asked. 

“Yes. And you take Alec,” Simon replied. Then he looked up at the space. “I’m ready to make a suggestion.”

Proceed. 

“I suggest Magnus Bane. With a scalpel. In the Library.”

Just as Clary was done suggesting Alec, also in the library but with a piece of rope, Simon remembered. “Hey. Has anyone else been hearing Valentine’s annoying ass voice in their head or is it just me?”

[dhampiravidi]

no one is innocent anymore. not even you.

Valentine Morgenstern had created The Circle, the extremist faction of The Clave that was hell-bent on eliminating Downworlders. & he'd sucked her Uncle Wayland into it, making him disappear--literally. He hadn't Fire Messaged Jas & her father in over a decade, so she had to get a warlock to find him. When he was untraceable, meaning "either dead or hidden by strong wards," Jas was livid. If Michael Wayland was untraceable, it was more likely that he was dead than anything. Any warlock or fey brave enough to capture a Shadowhunter would take them to their homeland (Hell or the Faerieland, respectively) for torture, then execution. But his disappearance would've traveled through the Shadow World as his peers desperately asked for news.

So it had to be Valentine. Most werewolves & vampires wouldn't dare break the Accords for something like that. Besides, Uncle Michael was raising a kid in Idris the last time he wrote. Only Shadowhunters got in there, 9 times out of 10.

She told her informants to keep an ear out for sightings of an imposing man with platinum blond hair. They found & quickly lost him, so she went hunting herself. Jas watched a boy who had to be his son leave a club with some girl--then she froze, feeling that she was being watched herself. @stu-machers-girl

[thegreatobsesso]

sleep, scatter, urge, paint, & involve

sleep

Callie POV

Peter shrugged off his sweater jacket thing and held it behind her, leading her hands toward the holes. Then she let him put one of her freshly-sweatered arms around his waist to steady herself as they stumbled back to her room.

“I have a secret,” she sang as he helped her get her key in the magic-hole. “And I’m not gonna tell you what it is, no - matter - what.”

She pinched her fingers and pulled them across her lips, like a zipper.

“That’s fine,” he said, smiling at her as the wards pulled back. Why was he smiling at her? She was a hot mess, all smudged make-up and unsteady feet. “Tomorrow you can tell me all about the secrets you’re not gonna tell me.”

He came in just far enough to supervise her descent into bed, and she fell asleep without taking off her shoes.

scatter

Callie POV

Peter had mastered this, the mounting pressure screaming inside her. He was strong.

She was nothing but a loaded gun in a shaking hand.

She let it go.

For a single, glorious second, she became magic and she was sure it killed her. She was the white-hot center of a nuclear blast that flattened the foliage in every direction. Birds screamed and scattered.

She was alive. Still in pain. Slumped over in the ruined grass, staring at her cold hands, still crackling.

If dad was right, then she’d surely go to hell, but it would also mean Peter was already in heaven.

urge

Callie POV

This, the small room at the end of an undecorated hall, must be the spare room Riley told her she’d be using. It was an afterthought of a space, containing only what was needed for someone to sleep there and be reasonably comfortable - a small bed with a khaki-colored comforter, a night stand, and a dresser Callie knew was empty without checking.

The whole place had the look of a model home, inoffensive to all and interesting to absolutely no one, so long as you stayed out of the basement.

She resisted the urge to pull up the carpet and check for trap doors. It was hard to believe they were going to break the preconceived notions of magic and science here, in some partially assembled page of a Pottery Barn catalog.

paint

Riley POV

When the glass above their heads shatters, Riley is one with every shard. She catches them before they hit the ground, the dewey night air rushing into the room while the hooded Swordsmen shield their heads. She wastes no time demonstrating her control, spinning the broken glass into an impressive whirlwind, finally settling it into the same shape she sees pinned onto their robes.

It almost makes her nauseous, the massive sword hovering underneath the vaulted remnants of a ceiling - it’s predictable, melodramatic, and worthy of Callie Ray.

It pays off. Their awed stares, the way she hears his name scattered across their whispers, confirm she’s done her job well. Her hands sting as she flexes them, holding her sculpture in place; she’s moving like she’s finger painting and every flutter is agony. Beneath the magic, she’s irritating her burns. She keeps her expression even.

Adrian’s hands come down on her shoulders, steady, proud.

“The heir of Nauxial,” he says, his voice cutting through the electrified din.

involve

Simon POV

“The obelisk,” Wayland managed, reading between the lines. “We need to destroy it.”

And he understood - the obelisk had their scent now and Adrian could use it to send his power out across miles.

But what could they do? He’d like nothing more than to destroy the godforsaken thing but they didn’t have the strength. Callie was straining, her arms trembling as she held the plant’s arms around too many assailants to count and Fallowhyde wouldn’t be down for long. Every one of their guards was trained to resist his control and he was most certainly not trained to break through when someone was trying to fight him off. Wayland had overextended, Janan was injured, and Lucinda was in such a shaken state he knew she wouldn’t get involved in the fray if her own life depended on it.

“We need to run,” he breathed, pulling himself up and reaching out to Janan. “Now.”

I have been consumed by work stress lately, but today is Saturday and I feel like myself again. Doing this was really fun. :)

Tagging @fearofahumanplanet, @winterandwords, @avrablake, @chauceryfairytales, and @jamieanovels with the new words sing, home, name, wild and blink 🥰

[ao3feed-sambucky]

The House That Built Me

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/43300527

by Booklivesmatter

Alec Lightwood wasn't expected to survive that night. His parents dropped him off in the midst of a human trafficking ring and cleaned their hands of their homosexual, thirteen-year-old son. Except the man they sold him to happened to be a SHIELD Agent undercover: Clint Barton.

Clint and Laura Barton take Shadowhunter Alec Lightwood into their home and raise him as their own. Alec rises through the ranks of SHIELD and even becomes an Avenger alongside his adoptive father and aunt. When the time comes, Director Fury sends Alec back to the New York Institute undercover to bring down the Clave from the inside.

How will Alec handle being back inside the very institution that would gladly see him dead based on his sexuality alone? And what about the mysterious warlock who saved his life during the Battle of New York?

Words: 2110, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Shadowhunters (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Hawkeye (TV 2021), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Ant-Man (Movies)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Maryse Lightwood, Nick Fury, Robert Lightwood, Maria Hill, Phil Coulson, Melinda May, Bobbi Morse, Lance Hunter, Jemma Simmons, Skye | Daisy Johnson, Raphael Santiago, Ragnor Fell, Catarina Loss, Cooper Barton, Lila Barton, Nathaniel Pietro Barton, Kate Bishop, Peter Parker, T'Challa (Marvel), Shuri (Marvel), Scott Lang, Max Lightwood-Bane, Rafael Lightwood-Bane, Stephen Strange, Harley Keener, Yelena Belova, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Loki (Marvel), Ultron (Marvel), Camille Belcourt, Luke Garroway, Iris Rouse, Valentine Morgenstern, Imogen Herondale, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern | Sebastian Verlac, Leo Fitz, Grant Ward, Lydia Branwell

Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Simon Lewis/Isabelle Lightwood, Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff/Vision

Additional Tags: Bad Parent Maryse Lightwood, Bad Parent Robert Lightwood, Spy Alec Lightwood, Secret Relationship, Adoption, Clint and Laura Barton's Family, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood First Meet, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood Needs A Hug, BAMF Alec Lightwood, Aunt Natasha Romanov, Avengers Family, Name Changes, Tony Stark Has A Heart, POV Clint Barton, POV Alec Lightwood, Lydia Branwell & Alec Lightwood Friendship

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/43300527

[capharnaum-frh]

L'Appel de Cthulhu de H. P. Lovecraft

“ Je prie seulement, au cas où je ne survive pas à ce manuscrit, que mes exécuteurs fassent passer la prudence avant le risque, et s'efforcent qu'il ne tombe sous aucun œil. ” 

La difficulté en abordant les récits de Lovecraft est de savoir par où commencer tant ses œuvres sont nombreuses et complexes, la plus emblématique doit pourtant être L'Appel de Cthulhu publié en février 1928 dans le magasine Weird Tales.

La nouvelle s'implante dans un cycle intitulé le Mythe de Cthulhu, composé de six histoires : Dagon (1917), L'Appel de Cthulhu (1926), l'Affaire Charles Dexter Ward (1927), l'Abomination de Dunwich (1928), les Montagnes hallucinées (1931), Dans l'abîme du temps (1936) et le Cauchemar d'Innsmouth (1936).

Résumé détaillé

L'intrigue non linéaire nous amène à découvrir l'enquête du défunt professeur en langues sémites George Gammell Angell dont les documents ont étés confiés à son petit-neveu, narrateur du récit, essayant de découvrir ce sur quoi enquêtait son oncle avant son décès soudain.

Parmi les documents recueillis par Francis Wayland Thruston, le petit-neveu s'avérant aussi être anthropologue, se trouve un manuscrit portant le titre Le Culte de Cthulhu, des coupures de presse et une statuette représentant une sorte de chimère entre dragon, humain et poulpe.

Le manuscrit débute avec la rencontre du sculpteur de la statuette, Henry Wilcox, un jeune artiste disant avoir réalisé la statuette suite à un rêve angoissant. Ce rêve étrange représentait une cité perdue, recouverte de vase, à l'architecture invraisemblable et obscure. D'abord sceptique, Angell va devenir de plus en plus sensible au discours du sculpteur, pensant que le rêve et la sculpture pourraient avoir un lien avec un ancien culte païen. Ils vont se rencontrer à plusieurs reprises jusqu'à ce que Wilcox soit prit d'une crise de délire, entendant les pas d'une créature gigantesque.

Dans la seconde partie du manuscrit, un inspecteur de police, John Legrasse, entre en contact avec Angell au sujet d'une statuette réalisée dans un matériau inconnu, trouvée lors d'un assaut contre une secte vaudou se livrant à des sacrifices humains. Les suspects incarcérés, l'un d'eux confessera que la secte vénère les "Grands Anciens", dieux venus des étoiles venus il y a des milliers d'années et dormant désormais sous la terre et la mer. Ce culte aurait la capacité de se répandre à travers le monde, comme en témoigne le Necronomicon, grimoire ancien écrit par Abdul Alhazred.

Thurston, en découvrant l'existence de la secte, s'interroge sur la possibilité que son oncle ait pu être assassiné par un membre du culte en raison de son enquête.

La troisième et dernière partie du récit explique comment Thurston découvre un article de journal australien relatant un accident en mer ayant causé la mort étrange de tout un équipage, à l'exception d'un rescapé. Thurston voyage jusque Oslo où il découvre le journal du survivant. Gustaf Johansen, un marin norvégien, explique que son navire, l'Emma, alors dans l'Océan Pacifique, croise la route d'un yacht avec à bord des individus agités donnant l'ordre à l'Emma de faire demi-tour. Après avoir refusé, une bataille s'ensuit et l'équipage survit. Curieux de découvrir la raison pour laquelle le yacht insistait pour qu'ils partent, l'équipage poursuit son chemin.

L'équipage découvrir une île étonnante sur laquelle se trouve une étrange cité, l'équipage ouvre une porte et sans le savoir, libère un des Grands Anciens, Cthulhu. En le voyant, deux des hommes meurent de peur, trois autres meurent sous ses griffes. Johansen parvient à se sauver avec un autre membre de son équipage, qui mourra par la suite sur le bateau.

Johansen, avant de mourir, confit son journal à son épouse qui le donnera ultérieurement à Thurston. Ce dernier comprend que, tout comme son oncle, Johansen s'est probablement fait tuer. Il réalise également qu'il est lui-même en danger.

Avis

Considéré comme un classique de la littérature d'horreur et de ce qui sera qualifié par la suite de science-fiction, L'Appel de Cthulhu est une œuvre à part, frappante par son aspect sérieux et crédible, deux éléments importants dans l'écriture de Lovecraft. Appliquant une écriture journalistique sur des éléments mystérieux et obscures. Cthulhu, créature gigantesque et terrifiante, cruelle aussi, n'a absolument rien qui l'approche de l'Homme, donnant ainsi une sensation de fin du monde à la fin du récit, où le lecteur comprend que la libération du dieu ne peut que signifier la fin de la race humaine.

Toutefois, il est important de noter que les récits de Lovecraft reflètent aussi la mentalité d'une époque (il dit pas mal de trucs racistes/misogynes quand même), c'est pourquoi, même si je reconnais les qualités littéraires et horrifiques de ses récits, je peux difficilement dire qu'il s'agit d'un livre à lire absolument.

Édition

Édité très régulièrement dans diverses maisons d'éditions françaises, je me suis dirigée chez les Éditions Points pour cet achat. Publié en 2020 pour un prix de 7,10€, le petit ouvrage aux belles dorures en couverture présente une apparence rappelant les affiches d'anciens films de science-fiction.

[feathers-n-fangs]

About the Trust of the Fallen

Director: Arael, the fallen angel who bestowed Griffin with magic after he saved her life. (May or may not secretly be seeking godhood…)

High Arbiters:

Griffin Wayland (see about page)

Declan Quinn - vampire

Cillian Quinn - vampire

Cadriel Graves - nephilim/aasimar/half-angel and Arael’s daughter

Aramis Callahan - Dhampir wizard

Delia Cray - Human Witch

Aiden Cray - Human Witch, Delia’s twin

Dr. Seth Rivers - Werewolf, genius engineer

Dr. Claire Moonbrew - Human alchemist

Dr. Kaveh Dagher - Human robotics engineer and programmer, cursed by the fae (Queen of the Summer Court has a crush on him and is trying to get him to notice her)

Autumn Crunchyleaf - Fae ambassador from the Fall Court, Biologist, Ecologist

Dr. Edward ‘Ward’ Spiderwick - Human Archaeologist, Warlock (made a pact with a cursed undead pharaoh to figure out how to finally put him to rest)

Dr. Lorenzo Salazar - Human Cryptozoologist, Wizard

Structure:

The thirteen High Arbiters rarely go out on missions anymore, save for Griffin, who isn’t exactly cut out to be an instructor. Most of them are busy either conducting research on various supernatural anomalies or teaching initiates how to deal with them. Missions are usually for members of the Trust who have been around for at least a few years, and are assigned based on skill set and level. For highly dangerous missions, Griffin either handles them himself or handpicks a team of elites to go with him. Cadriel, Declan, and Cillian are the same way, although they also have classes to teach. Arael is the Director of the Trust, but she also serves as the Headmistress of the Black Hills Institute, making sure new initiates learn as much as they can about the world’s mysteries before having to help deal with them. It’s not a particularly large school, occupying the space of an abandoned woodland mansion in South Dakota, and only accepts maybe ten new initiates per year. Several of the current High Arbiters were once initiates themselves.

[johngoncalves]

Giving Ward 1 Power: John Goncalves' Obligation to Advance

John Goncalves, City Councilman for Ward 1, Provision, is devoted to molding a more promising time to come for Fox Point, School Slope, Wayland Square, the Gems Region, and Downtown Fortune. An accomplished instructor and local area advocate, Goncalves guarantees progress, local area prosperity, and a shrewd turn of events. Join the development of an engaged Ward 1!

[drabblesmm]

Unnamed Fanfic pt.2

(The begginning to a Shadowhunters fanfic I've been working on, part 2)

“I don’t sound like that, kid.” Thomas looked to the door to see Kairo leaning again the doorframe in his bloodied and dirty hunting gear. He looked tired and was breathing heavily but seemed fine otherwise. “What are you doing?”                “Entertaining myself,” Thomas replied, switching back to his regular London accent.                “Yeah, I’ve seen the kitchen.”                Thomas grinned and spun the office chair around. “I call it ‘Red Mist’. I think it’ll catch on, don’t you?”                “It smelt like death, kid.”                “Make your enemies drink it, then.”                Kairo motioned for Thomas to get out of the chair, and he did so. Kairo sat down and shifted through some papers as Thomas leaned his back against the desk. “These attacks linked?” Thomas asked, fiddling with a pen. “I mean, four different attacks in one night. Everyone was out there. Think something’s going on?”                “Maybe,” Kairo sighed, stilling looking for something. “I’m not discussing it with you, though.”                “Rude.” Thomas sniffed and looked to the door. “Is Beth cooking again? Who let her—”                “She’s a better cook than you. Ah—here it is.” He pulled out a document and pulled out a pair of glasses.                Thomas chuckled to himself. “Grandpa.”                Kairo gave him a look and Thomas put his hands up as a surrender. Kairo went back to his paper. “Because of your behaviour, Thomas Doe, you are being moved to the New York Institute.” Thomas dropped the pen on the ground and stood straight up. Before he could say anything, Kairo put a hand up and carried on reading. “You will have one week to pack your things and then you will be escorted to the New York Institute by a Clave Representative.” He put the paper down. Thomas’ mouth had gone agape.                “What the fu—”                “It’s not my decision, kid.”                “Then don’t do this,” Thomas pleaded. “Don’t let them treat me like…like some toy they’re tired of. Like something they can just pass off to their neighbour. It’s not fair.”                “I know, kid,” Kairo said, putting a hand on Thomas’ arm. “But maybe it’ll be good for you? There are—”                “How could it be good? I know London. I know the people and the Underworld here. Sure, I mess around a bit, but every kid does. It’s not fair to just send me off—”                “There are other kids in New York.” Thomas shut up immediately and looked at Kairo hesitantly. “Other kids who live in the Institute, the Lightwoods. Plus, there’s a kid who’s the Institute’s ward, like you. His names Jonathan Wayland. You won’t be alone. And I’ll write to you every week, so don’t worry about that.”                Thomas thought for a moment. “Other kids?” He asked. “And I’ll be ale to talk to them? Befriend them?” Kairo nodded. Thomas, for a moment, let a smile spread across his face. Maybe the move wasn’t the worst anymore.                Still pretty awful though.

[ao3feed-scarletvision]

The House That Built Me

by Booklivesmatter

Alec Lightwood wasn't expected to survive that night. His parents dropped him off in the midst of a human trafficking ring and cleaned their hands of their homosexual, thirteen-year-old son. Except the man they sold him to happened to be a SHIELD Agent undercover: Clint Barton.

Clint and Laura Barton take Shadowhunter Alec Lightwood into their home and raise him as their own. Alec rises through the ranks of SHIELD and even becomes an Avenger alongside his adoptive father and aunt. When the time comes, Director Fury sends Alec back to the New York Institute undercover to bring down the Clave from the inside.

How will Alec handle being back inside the very institution that would gladly see him dead based on his sexuality alone? And what about the mysterious warlock who saved his life during the Battle of New York?

Words: 2110, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Shadowhunters (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Hawkeye (TV 2021), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Ant-Man (Movies)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Maryse Lightwood, Nick Fury, Robert Lightwood, Maria Hill, Phil Coulson, Melinda May, Bobbi Morse, Lance Hunter, Jemma Simmons, Skye | Daisy Johnson, Raphael Santiago, Ragnor Fell, Catarina Loss, Cooper Barton, Lila Barton, Nathaniel Pietro Barton, Kate Bishop, Peter Parker, T'Challa (Marvel), Shuri (Marvel), Scott Lang, Max Lightwood-Bane, Rafael Lightwood-Bane, Stephen Strange, Harley Keener, Yelena Belova, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Loki (Marvel), Ultron (Marvel), Camille Belcourt, Luke Garroway, Iris Rouse, Valentine Morgenstern, Imogen Herondale, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern | Sebastian Verlac, Leo Fitz, Grant Ward, Lydia Branwell

Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Simon Lewis/Isabelle Lightwood, Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff/Vision

Additional Tags: Bad Parent Maryse Lightwood, Bad Parent Robert Lightwood, Spy Alec Lightwood, Secret Relationship, Adoption, Clint and Laura Barton's Family, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood First Meet, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood Needs A Hug, BAMF Alec Lightwood, Aunt Natasha Romanov, Avengers Family, Name Changes, Tony Stark Has A Heart, POV Clint Barton, POV Alec Lightwood, Lydia Branwell & Alec Lightwood Friendship

from AO3 works tagged 'Wanda Maximoff/Vision' https://ift.tt/QZWl0fS via IFTTT

[alexanderlightweight]

Wednesday prompt with vampire Alec?

Oooh I hope you like this one! I had fun writing it

-

Magnus waits in the shadows, allowing Alexander to accept a last gift from his family.

His boy drinks greedily from bags and bags of unworthy blood before Fray and Alexander’s sister are using their strength runes to hold him down. And then they ensure that the twice divine blood in blondie’s veins will ensure Alexander is a daylighter and it’s the only reason Magnus is allowing Wayland the privilege of being drunk from.

Especially when Magnus is still waiting to hold his boy and keep him safe and sated and fed.

—

It started months ago, with the sudden betrayal of Dorothea, as she chose her feelings for shadowhunters over her allegiance to him.

Her betrayal is what convinces Magnus of the course he’ll need to take in order to acquire the prize he wants.

Because Magnus knows who he wants the moment he sees him.

And if Dorothea is willing to risk betraying him after the weight of her service and pact with Magnus… well, Magnus isn’t willing to risk the loss of his prize.

It’s easy enough to keep an eyes on events and to track his boy. Magnus knows exactly where Alexander Lightwood is every moment his boy steps past Institute wards and into the arrays Magnus has woven across New York.

Sometimes, in a sulk, Magnus will bemoan not lowering himself to place the magical wards around the Institute. If he had, he might have felt his boy sooner and at the very least, his magic would have already surrounded Alexander.

Now, Magnus has to watch in disgust as Alexander is dragged this way and that.

There’s almost a wedding, but Magnus ensures that several of the forsaken experiments he captured are released at the right time.

Such a pity that the bride died, but Alexander does seem more relieved than mournful.

It only encourages Magnus further, to see the relief in Alexander's eyes when he stares at his fiancés broken and empty body.

So he watches as Alexander is mistreated and bears the price of others actions and is demoted, his rank ignored by a pretentious hunter with half of Alexander’s talent.

Magnus almost acts until the the vampires begin to move and then he waits, because this is exactly the opening he wants.

Somehow, his darling boy gets entangled with protecting Raphael’s little pet and when the inevitable happens and Simon gets in the way, Alexander goes down.

It’s near torture, to feel Alexander’s agony across the the leylines and have to stand back and let it happen.

Magnus follows his boy until the last heartbeat and he means to ensures Alwxander will ingest blood. Except his shadowhunter companions are already forcing vampire blood down his blue, unbreathing lips.

Magnus blinks, shocked and delighted and muffling a dark laugh as he realizes this will be even easier than he thinks.

Magnus could wield the claves soul sword and swear that he had no hand in Alexander’s death. That he played no part in turning his boy into a vampire.

Perhaps Magnus knew it was happening, but he holds no true obligation to Alexander and it would not be expected of him.

Magnus interest alone is enough to be considered a blessing.

Alexander’s once parabatai is clutching his body and howling dramatically, as if all of a sudden remembering he cares of Magnus’ boy will make up for his neglect.

It’s tedious to listen to their mourning and Magnus chuckles darkly when he realizes they’re digging the womb of Alexander’s rebirth on hallowed ground.

—

“Guys I think this is a bad idea.” Simon says nervously.

“So we should just let him die? He died for you, vampire.”

“Yeah and you’re about to turn him into a vampire. You don’t even like vampires.”

“It’s Alec. It’s different.”

Simons groans, tugging at his own hair and pacing. “Yeah but, I wasn’t happy either! I didn’t want this I mean I’m happy now but it took time! Effort, a lot of support I didn’t really get at first and didn’t appreciate when I did!”

“Look, Alec can handle it, okay. And he’s got me and Iz. He’ll get over it. He’s got plenty of time to.”

—

Magnus scoffs quietly and settles in to wait. He sits on a throne of obsidian in the shade of a crypt and watches Alwxander’s grave with a devotion on par with saints.

The others have left for the day, leaving Alexander alone because they don’t know the kind of magic that can be done to an unborn fledgling.

Magnus walks over when the sun peaks and he treads a careful array over the loose gravedirt and then he spills his blood and his seed over it.

Alexander will never be tempted by any blood beyond Magnus’ from the first time he tastes it to his end.

It’s a cruel thing to do perhaps, if it weren’t for the fact that Magnus’ sheer magical reserves mean he can never be drained dry. If anything, the pleasure Magnus will derive from such a bond is enough to have Magnus’ magic purring in anticipation.

Magnus leaves Alexander only after he’s warded his grave to ensure no one else can take advantage of it. It’s but a snap of his fingers to portal to Raphael’s side and Magnus looks over the suddenly cowering group with disdain.

“Out.” He orders and but for Raphael they all flee. “When I agreed to let you handle Camille, as a sign of your loyalty, I expected results. When you delayed again and again, I made excuses for you, to Catarina, to Ragnor even.” And Magnus watches with satisfaction as his barbed words hook deeper than any actual punishment ever would.

“I can still—“

“Enough.” Magnus says quietly and Raphael goes still, not even pretending to breathe. “Your only job is to obey my commands. I will be handling Camille and you will be grateful for my leniency. For now, gather your vampires to reswear their vows to me and know that I will be culling whoever displeases me.”

Raphael hesitates at the door way, “Magnus, I didn’t mean to involve shadowhunters.”

“That, is the only correct thing you’ve done.” Magnus informs him, a dark chuckle leaving his lips. “That you managed to have Alexander cornered in such a way that leaves him easy to claim is why you still experience my generosity.”

Raphael looks terrified as he suddenly realizes the interest Magnus has in the nephilim his actions helped kill.

“Did you plan this? Did you know?”

“I’m an opportunist, Raphael. But remember your place. Don’t you ever insinuate I would ever harm my boy, do you understand? I have been more than patient and fate brought him to me, I’m no villain in his story.”

Magnus is going to rescue his boy from the madness he’s about to be subjected to.

“I’m sorry.” Raphael says, still wavering, the sweet child that he is.

“It was clever of you; not to let him taste and of your blood or to lay a hand on him.” Magnus praises Raphael with a cold smirk; “even my fondness for you would not have been enough to save you. Had you touched him.”

“Did you know that the soul gem of a fledgling vampire’s sire has a great many magical properties?”

Magnus smiles and he knows exactly when Raphael realizes what Camille’s fate will be.

—

Magnus gets back to the graveyard and sits back on his throne; the view unobstructed as he watches the group prepare for Alexander’s rebirth.

“Raphael won’t help us.” The youngest of Raphael’s clan whispers. “Camille is dead and the clans are in a rampage as order changes. The king of the East Coast is demanding new oaths be made. I didn’t even know we had a king!”

There’s a pause and a look of panic between the blonde and Alexander’s sister. They shuffle, fear in their eyes because neither of them want Alexander to come to Magnus’ attention.

Not when Alexander is newly a vampire and his oaths of fealty will need to be resworn.

It’s a pity, but Magnus won’t be letting them try to hide him away. Because Magnus wants Alexander and he’s not about to play a long game or fight the clave.

Magnus has been watching this particular group of shadowhunters since they first began to snoop around Magnus’ territory.

It’s completely their own fault that they left Magnus a scent of blood toward the prey he’s so meticulously lain in wait for.

And soon — after Alexander’s crawled from his grave and been reborn through the dirt— as Magnus watches Alexander rip through bag after bag of blood and then shake as clarity returns to him.

He’s still being held down when it happens. When Alexander comes back to himself and he shakes as he realizes he’s drinking blood.

Magnus bites his own lip and Alexander’s head turns to him from across the graveyard.

There’s a moment of confusion and then he rips himself from the blonde with a shocking amount of control.

The scent of Magnus’ blood after the ritual will magnify Alexander’s interest and it’s enough that he breaks away from blondie.

Alexander doesn’t come to Magnus, not yet but he’s already wavering even as he’s come to his senses.

“Jace, I didn’t want this.”

“It was my fault.” The blond admits, voice rough and hoarse. “I asked you to watch Simon, for Clary. I couldn’t handle it being why you died, Alec! Simon adapted, you can too!”

“Simon was a mundane!” Alexander yells, “you’ve taken everything from me!”

“we saved your life.”

As a newly turned downworlder, Alexander’s bonds of allegiance are aching, yearning to be connected and accepted. Magnus croons a dark lullaby as he cuts open his hand and lets it drip.

Alexander can smell it first.

It’s as if the sudden rush of Magnus’ blood trying to escape his veins is a siren song. He turns, a wild, ravenous gleam to his red eyes.

He’s a beautiful picture and Magnus can’t wait to have him painted, hungry and panting for Magnus’ blood.

“Come here darling,” Magnus calls out, low enough that without their runes active, the shadowhunters wont hear him.

Raphael’s little pet whimpers, the weight of Magnus’ power pressing down on him, forcing him to ignore Magnus.

Alexander lights up, his eyes glowing and his fangs poking out to pierce his bottom lip

“Oh darling, I have you now.” Magnus croons and he lets more blood fall. His magic will destroy all traces of himself as Alexander follows.

Alexander is like one of his arrows, a straight shot to Magnus and when he arrives, his arms come up around Magnus in a too-tight embrace.

Magnus laughs, tilting his head and offering his neck. Alexander bites deeply and groans as Magnus’ blood fills his mouth. The venom sinks into Magnus' veins like a feral ice storm and Magnus groans, delighted by how much Alexander needs him.

The divine blood of a fallen and defiled angel runs in Magnus’ veins and after this, Alexander will never crave the taste of another’s blood.

Magnus portals them both away, holding Alexander ever closer as pleasure courses through both of them.

Alexander is new fledgling with no sire and no clan that will take him — Magnus has made sure of it — he’ll greedily latch on to the bonds offered by his new king.

And Magnus will hungrily accept.

[frostios]

a couple weeks ago wayland ( belongs to @loneliestcactus ) and ardella got together!! so heres a whooole lotta months old doodles of them <3 we love old lovey couples

[rabbitcruiser]

The New York Stock Exchange was founded on March 8, 1817.