#dee's drabbles

[katyawooga]

pLEASE sevika x idol/singer reader? :( I WANNWA DO THOSE CUTE DANCES INFORNT OF SEVIKA TO GET HER REACITON AEAEHAHAUAUUUAUAUAUAUAU

oh my gosh anon this is so cute!!! :3

men and minors DNI pretty pleaseee

also let's pretend the meeting at the vander statue didn't end in attacks from noxus for the purpose of this ask 😊 i started writing this when act 2 came out so imagine this is in between act 2 and 3

to absolutely no one's knowledge, sevika was a superfan of yours. zaun had very few 'celebrities' of sorts, but you, a breakout singer that used to be a girl-for-hire at margot's, had made a name for yourself.

you regularly held gigs around the undercity, most frequently on the roof of the chembarons' little lair at the very peaks of the underground. ever since silco shoved off, you've been able to spot his number two in the front row at nearly all of your shows.

the riots going on recently because of the colourful spectacle topside had temporarily paused your gigs, but that didn't stop you from supporting zaun and doing pop-ups to raise morale. sevika herself somehow got your contact and convinced you to come to a rally near the vander statue. you were excited to be apart of something so directly involved with jinx and protesting. you wore jinx-er attire and even brought flares for the audience.

"come onnn, shoot faster!"

you had also gotten jinx herself on stage with you. she happened to be a big fan of yours and one of the reasons sevika reached out for this gig. you sang jinx's favourite song together with the crowd bumping. her presence made the attendance a lot bigger and the atmosphere a whole lot more exciting.

"just a little bit of energy, yeah!"

you spotted sevika in her usual front row spot, admiring your act and jinx for finally getting out of her lair. sevika was holding the hand of a small blue-haired girl jumping around like a maniac watching jinx. it was a sweet sight, especially since they were both mouthing along the words of the song and sevika dancing a little with the girl hanging off her mechanical arm.

"i wanna try somethin' fun right now!"

the crowd set off their flares of blue and the scene was clouded with aqua while you and jinx continued to sing and entertain.

"i guess some people call it anarchy!"

—

after your numbers were over, you thanked the crowd, thanked jinx, and thanked sevika for planning it all and giving her credit where it was due. she was a little bashful but it made her all the more authentic to you.

"this was really fun!" you approached sevika once she had pawned off the small girl to jinx, the two of them giggling together. "i'd love to show more spots like this. i've never seen zaun so pumped up."

"you were great. you and jinx really hit it off on stage, the people loved you two."

it was your first real conversation with the left hand of zaun and it was a little silly how starstruck you were. she was a bigger fan of yours and you were the actual pop star here.

"i saw that you loved us too," you poked a little fun with her. "knowing all the lyrics, dancing along..."

she, of all people, got flustered and scoffed, waving off your words. she had a good time watching your act, just like she always did, but someone actually noticing it for once kind of embarrassed her.

"well, if ever you wanna see a little shimmy from me again, don't hesitate to reach out for a gig. with how much jinx, the kid, and i love your act, zaun'll be in the clouds with how high you've lifted our spirits."

parting ways with sevika and waving goodbye to jinx and (seemingly) her younger sister, you couldn't help but feel giddy. the most revered and loyal person in zaun was a fan of yours, she wanted to keep spotting your act, and now you had jinx as a wingwoman on stage. you never thought life could get any better as a little singer from the underground.

i'm sooooo sorry this took me so long But i am back to getting requests and asks written since i'm on break now :) feel free to send some!

[desirehorizon]

12:06 - s.mg (M)

MDNI

Oh to make Mingi shake.

To have him on the bed, practically quivering with want, the teasing feeling almost like torture. He wants to touch himself, he wants to reach out and touch you, but he does as he's told, even if he's aching with need.

To have him let out shaky, breathy sighs as you softly kiss him and run your hands up and down his tall form, one that suddenly looks so small as he looks up at you with his fuck me eyes.

To have him squirming under you as you finally pleasure him, hands gripping the sheets as he tries to bite back the moans. His eyes screwed tightly shut with the overwhelming pleasure building up inside of him.

To have him spent and shivering ever so slightly in your grasp after too much pleasure, too many orgasms, his voice a lil scratchy from breaking into higher pitches from the overstimulation.

To have him only calm down when you pepper his perfect face with kisses, reassure him of how well he did, comb his hair as he falls asleep with his head tucked into your chest.

The most perfect boy in the world ♡

[marquisoforder]

In a perfect world where the incestuous demon spawn little shit Sebastian didn’t kill my boy Raphael, Lilly Chen and Raphael Santiago might have to babysit the Lightwood Bane babies...

.

.

.

“Oooohh someone’s getting laid tonight!”

Magnus blinks at the vampire leaning against the wall, a wide grin plastered across her face. When Alec said he would ask a friend to babysit the kids tonight, Lilly Chen was the last person Magnus thought he’d go for. But as the fates would have it, pretty much everyone else had been busy with their own plans tonight.

“About time I did,” The warlock retorts right back and smirks at Lilly who throws her head back in laughter. “who knew having kids would constantlyget in the way of me getting some.”

“I can’t believe the twelve year old actually married you.” Another voice speaks up from the couch and Magnus shakes his head before turning to Raphael Santiago, curled up on the sofa with another one of his insufferable smirks gracing his otherwise innocent face.

“Alec is not twelve years old, he hasn’t been twelve for quite sometimes now.”

“Oh I forgot.” Raphael shakes his head as Lily walks over to join him on the couch. “Sad how he wasn’t able to make an impression on me since he was twelve. Lack of personality, I suppose. Explains why he married you.”

“Raphael!” Lily feigns incredulity but Magnus can see the smile in her eyes. “Be nice!”

“Yes Raphael, be nice!” Magnus adds in the most patronizing tone he can summon up just as Alec shuffles into the room behind Max and Rafe, each wearing their dino pajamas – Rafe in red and Max in blue.

“What did I do?” Rafe asks in his slightly accented English, puzzled by his papa’s words.

“Not you, Rafe.” Magnus quickly amends. “I was talking to Raphael here, he has the same name as you. Actually we named you after him.”

“As an insult to me.” Raphael mutters under his breath and Rafe gazes at the vampire skeptically. Max seems to pay no mind to the grumpy vampire as he barrels towards Lilly with all the enthusiasm only a four year old is capable of mustering up.

“Auntie Lily!” He shrieks before hugging her legs, prompting the vampire to lean down and gather the baby warlock in her arms.

“Hello Blueberry, have you been a good boy?”

“Yes auntie Lily,” Max nods gravely. “A very good boy, haven’t I daddy?”

Alec smiles and nods before they both move to kiss the kids, goodbye. Alec gives instruction to the two vampires but neither of them seem to pay any attention to what he was saying, Lily too busy tickling Max and Raphael decidedly ignoring Alec out of sheer pettiness. Alec sighs at the scene before him before nodding at Magnus, who rewards him with a sympathetic smile before snapping his fingers and opening a portal, which manages to grab the attention of the babysitting crew.

“Take care of the kids, guys. I don’t want to come back home to a crisis.” Magnus warns before taking Alec’s hand and leaning close to whisper in his ear. “Don’t worry, they won’t set the loft ablaze. Fire is deadly to vampires.”

Alec shakes his head with a resigned smile and steps through the portal, his hand interlocked with his husband’s.

.

.

“Your dad is the Consul of the clave, your papa is the High warlock of Brooklyn, and you still don’t have a dinosaur?”  Lily demands in mock incredulity from her seat on the floor. “Unacceptable!”

Max nods with a look of woe in his blue eyes as if he already had a clear idea of how powerful his parents were. And yet how they did not seem to want to get him a dinosaur. Or a sister for that matter.

“I’m sure Magnus has good reason for not getting you a dinosaur,” Raphael walks over to the trio on the floor from the kitchen where he had been making snacks for the young Lightwood Banes. He had complained all the while saying how he was the head of the New York vampire clan and was above such menial tasks but as he joined Lily and the kids, a plate in his hand held two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. “Like where is he going to sleep if your papa gets you a dinosaur?”

Max considers this for a moment, his eyes focused on the sandwich in his hand and his forehead creased in concentration.

“He can sleep with me in my bed! Papa can make it bigger for both of us.”

“But when your dino grows bigger?” Raphael questions with the severity one would expect from him at a Downworld Cabinet meeting. “We have to think of all this before we get you a pet dinosaur.”

“Max can sleep in my bed.” Rafe offers with a mouthful of bread. “The dino can stay in Max’s room when he gets bigger.” He pauses for a moment and looks Raphael straight in the eye. “Or papa can make a room for him especially, like he did for me. We can give it a window with pretty color glass.”

“Ok, fair enough.” Raphael shrugs and Lilly nods. “I think I should have a talk with Magnus about this pressing matter, you know, as the Head of the NY vampire clan to the High Warlock of Brooklyn.”

Max squeals in delight and tackles the vampire in a bear hug. “Thank you, uncle Raphael! I promise you can come with me to take him on walks to the park! we can go at night with daddy so the sun won’t bother you!”

“I’d really rather not hangout with your dad, child. The image of him at twelve still haunts me, I don’t want to get to know him any better than I absolutely have to.”

“Oh shush, Alec is great!” Lily swats him on the shoulder with a little teasing smile. “Isn’t he the best, Rafe?”

“He’s ok,” The child retorts nonchalantly and takes a bite out of his snack. “Papa is still cooler.”

“But Rafe!” Little Max objects strongly. “Daddy is a shadowhunter! Shadowhunters are so cool!” He turns to the vampires watching the exchange and declares, “I’m going to be a shadowhunter when I grow up!”

That steals the attention of both Lily and Raphael and they exchange a look between them. Little Max misses it completely but Rafe, ever the careful observer, does not.

“My brother is going to be the best shadowhunter ever.” He says with conviction and a look that challenges the two adults to contradict him. “Papa and daddy said we can be whatever we want, so Max is going to be better than Uncle Jace and daddy. Aren’t you Max?”

Max nods gravely but a yawn disturbs him before he can say anything in addition.

“Ok, time for bed you two shadowhunters in the making.” Lilly says and stands up. “C’mon let’s get you two tucked in.”

“Uncle Raphael?” Rafe speaks up hesitantly, rising from his seat on the floor. “Can you read us a bedtime story?

“No,” The vampire turns the child down but in turn gets an elbow in the ribs from Lilly who’s carrying the little blue warlock, already half asleep in her arms. “I mean yes, but only one.”

Rafe smiles and takes Raphael’s hand in his, leading them to his room.

.

.

Magnus’s phone vibrates in his pocket, alerting him to a text received.

“Who is it?” Alec pouts as Magnus checks the sender of the text. “You promised no phones, no work, no distractions!”

“It’s not work, It’s Lily.”

“By the Angel, are the kids ok? Did they set the house on fire? Did Max float himself out of the window again?”

“Nothing like that Alexander,” Magnus smiles fondly at the screen before handing Alec the phone. “It’s a photo.”

‘The kids got him to read six bedtime stories, boss fell asleep halfway through the seventh.’

The picture had captured Raphael, Max and Rafe, all three of them squeezed into Rafe’s small bed, sleeping peacefully. Both kids cuddled up to the vampire from either side.

Alec smiles down at the oddly sweet sight he never thought he’d get to see and hands the phone back to Magnus.

“You should make that your lockscreen.” He suggests and Magnus smiles at him from across the table.

“Yeah. Maybe I will.”

This is just wish fulfillment for @moonlight-lyrics and me. Hope you like it darling.

[marquisoforder]

Hey y’all so for my 400 follower celebration @theredscrolls asked for Banecourt angst and it took me forever to finish this but here’s some uncalled for angst to celebrate! A little heads up: Its set during City of Lost Souls and it’s about what led to the page that shall not be named.

.

“Love of my life, you have hurt me.

Broken my heart and now you leave me.

Love of my life, can’t you see?

Oh bring it back, bring it back,

Don’t take it away from me

Because you don’t know,

What it means to me.”

-          Love of my life by Queen

 Camille hadn’t changed at all.

Magnus knew it was physically impossible for a vampire to change with age but he had hoped that somehow time would have run its course and made Camille a little bit softer, a little less cynical or at least, a little less bitchy.

But even the unrelenting ravaging of time had not been able to chip away at any of those things about Camille and Magnus blamed himself for holding out hope even after everything she had done to him.

“Cozy little place you have here.”  Camille was eyeing his apartment with the idle curiosity of a visitor at a museum who was only mildly interested in what was around them. She was seated on one of Magnus’s sofa with all the ease and grace of a highborn baroness and cut a striking figure in her little red dress, all lithe limbs and alabaster skin. He noticed her eyes stop at the coffee machine on the island a little longer and a knowing smile stretched across her otherwise cold features and somehow managed to make her look even colder.

“Yes small talk this, small talk that. Now can you please tell me why you are here so we can get this over with?”

He felt bone tired as he stood near the kitchen counter, his third coffee for the evening in his hand. He had spent consecutive nights this week trying to discover a way to find Jace and consecutive days trying to convince Alexander that he had fair reasons behind everything he did. There had been an invisible barrier building up between him and the shadowhunter for a while now and he was too afraid to consider what it might result in. All in all, Camille could not have come at a worse time.

“Why Magnus it almost sounds like you are not happy to see me.”

Camille’s eyes flashed mischievously and for a moment Magnus was reminded of an evening long ago in the Sanctuary of the London Institute where the vampire and the warlock have had their share of fun tormenting stuck up shadowhunters with idle flirting. But that warlock had been young and naïve and easily distracted by shiny packages. This one right here, right now, thought he knew better.

“Just get to it Camille.” He sighed, leaning back against the counter and absentmindedly swirling what little coffee was left in his mug.

“Very well then,” The vampire smiled with a demented sort of glee like that of a cat about o knock a glass off a table. “Your shadowhunter boy, the blue eyed one, I have an inkling that he wants to murder you.”

It caught him like a fucking blow to the chest.

But he was four hundred years old and knew better. Knew better than to trust Camille. Knew better than to show her vulnerability.

“Okay. Thank you for your concern,” He spared a bright smile that conveyed nothing. “If that’s all, the door’s that way.”

Camille stared at him blankly for a moment and shook her head. “I’m serious, Magnus.” She said, standing up and moving closer to him, the expression on her face alarmingly honest.

But Magnus was not going to be fooled. Not again.

“So am I.” He said, “I’m not going to trust someone who’s petty and jealous and wants to see my relationship ruined.”

Camille sighed and shrugged but did not move away from him; Instead she leaned back against the counter next to him with a look of mild annoyance etched onto her features.

“Fine! Call me anything you want, call me all the names in the world but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m telling the truth.”

“I’m not calling you names, I’m describing you.” Magnus offered with another amicable but bland smile. “You have no proof; it’s just the word of a woman who had lied to me before against the word of a man who had never once lied to me ever.”

“A man who has had trouble dealing with the fact that one day his hair will turn gray and his skin would wrinkle and he’d wither away but you’d remain as young as ever.”

She added nonchalantly, without even sparing him a glance. And Magnus felt his heart freeze for one long, unending second.

“Look, I agree, I’m jealous and petty but I have never wished you ill Magnus.” Her voice was softer this time; the usual edge of disdain having disappeared into thin air. “And see, I did have proof.”

Magnus remained silent, his eyes focused on the mug in his hand but not seeing it at all. It felt as if someone was twisting a knife into his lungs. It was the worst news and Camille being the one to bring it to him was just the Universe kicking him when he was already down.

“How do you know?”

“He came to me.” She didn’t sound like she was lying. “Your pretty blue eyed boy, he wanted me to tell him a way to steal your immortality, he couldn’t bear to see himself aging when you remained young forever.”

“But there is no such way.”

“I told him that much.” There’s a hint of sympathy in her voice and Magnus recoiled inwardly at being subjected to pity by Camille of all people. “He was desperate, honestly. Offered to make a deal with me for the secret.”

“And?”

Camille shrugged. “Well you know me, I’m not above the occasional lie. I offered to help him find a way if he took care of something for me.”

He’s almost too scared to ask, but he wants to know all the same. “What?”

“I wanted him to kill Raphael for me.” Her voice didn’t waver or tremble. “And he agreed.”

The knife in his lungs felt as if it had caught on fire. He desperately tried to spot the lie in her story, but every aspect of it seemed to be perfectly true. If this was indeed a lie, it was so finely crafted that even Magnus could not detect a hint of fraud in it. Alec might be a soft and sincere boyfriend, but before that he was a headstrong shadowhunter and a desperate human. There was no limit to the lengths he might go to get what he wanted. It was a combination deadlier than the Serpent and the Forbidden Fruit.

“I’m sorry.” She offered without much feeling but there’s that softness to her voice again. He had known that from ages long gone, when they were still lovers and they had lain on smooth satin, in dark chambers whispering to each other of things he can no longer care to remember.  “I know how it feels to lose someone who means much.”

“Do you now?” He asked in a sudden moment of uncontrollable spite. She had come storming into his life again and ruined something perfect yet again. Some might call his anger and bitterness misplaced but Magnus had all the reasons in the world to say it.

“Yes.” She had the nerve to sound offended. “Yes I do, Magnus. You are not the only person who has loved and lost. Don’t look down on me from that pedestal you have put yourself on.”

“Oh if anyone in this room deserves a fucking pedestal it’s me alright.” He scoffed with a bitterness that seeped from his words like venom. “I have never broken a heart, I have never hurt anyone I have loved, even after everything you did, I’m still here listening to you. So don’t talk to me about looking down on you ‘cause I have every right to!”

“You are soft.” Camille sighs but there’s no insult in her tone. “Even after all these centuries your heart is still fresh and bloody and raw. I don’t think it will ever freeze over completely, maybe it should but I don’t think it ever will.” She turned to him, immersed in thought. “You are soft; Your Alexander is a shadowhunter. You and I both know they don’t know how to deal with fragility. They will ruin it even if they don’t mean to.”

Magnus swallowed against the uneasy knot forming in his throats and turned his eyes to the floor. She was right. He had seen this before countless times but he had hoped they could be different.

“You deserve better,” Camille smiled and stood on her tip toes to place a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Remember that, Magnus. Remember your immortality is a part of you as much as mine is a part of me.” He understood what she didn’t say and she knew that he did. But neither of them found the need to confirm anything out loud. The silence ruled between them for one eternal moment before Magnus nodded, his eyes glued to the stained glass window in front of him.

Camille left. The sun sank over the city line.

.

.

Is this Banecourt angst? Or is it Malec angst? Who knows?

(Also sorry it took approximately two millennia for me to get this done.)

[marquisoforder]

Mister Fahrenheit.

.

“I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah

Two hundred degrees

That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit.”

- Don’t stop me now.

Queen

.

It was sheer luck that Magnus heard the doorbell over the deafening den of the party.

To be quite honest, he didn’t really have a reason to throw a party all of a sudden but with the news of everything happening in the world, the Mundane illness and the rumors of rogue vigilante Shadowhunters, he felt that he needed a little pick me up. Everybody needed a pick me up during these times. A little escape from the grimness of the real world. And when the word got out, swarms of Downworlders had come, each with lines of frustration, fear and uncertainty etched on to their faces; lines that disappeared once two shots of fairy gin went down and the upbeat rock music brought the now loosened limbs to the dance floor. And the influx of the guests did not cease. They kept coming in packs and twos and individually; vamps, werewolves, fairies, a couple of warlocks and one or two disgruntled mundanes who had been swept in with the crowd.

Magnus opened the door for the hundredth time that night, expecting another random face he remembered from some rave or another but couldn’t quite place, and stopped mid motion, the face staring up at him bringing back a flood of emotions and memories.

“Hello dah-ling!” The man with the mustache smiled, a quick, self-conscious flash of teeth that disappeared as soon as it came.

“Freddie,” Magnus breathed. “Freddie fucking Mercury. It has been so long.”

The man nodded but flinched visibly when the loud song playing in the party came to a louder end, enabling cheers from the throng of drunk downworlders inside.

“Come on in,” Magnus pulled him in by the hand and absent mindedly noticed how it felt a little different, a little thinner, perhaps?

“It sure is loud in here!” Magnus could faintly hear Freddie yelling as he dragged him through the throbbing crowd of swaying bodies, towards the bar in the corner of the room.

“It’s to drown the wailing of the damned.” Magnus grinned as they reached the bar and grabbed a couple of seats for them. The bartender, a fairy with shiny silver hair and striking lilac eyes (no whites at all) winked at Magnus before pouring both of them some dangerously shiny and equally slimy fairy drink that Magnus had no intentions of drinking. He left the drink alone and turned his full attention on the mundane in front of him, staring at the shiny green drink as if it had done him some personal wrong.

“What brings you here, Freddie?” Magnus smiled, laying a hand on his arm. “Surely the news of my little rave didn’t reach you all the way across the pond in England!”

“I was actually in the area,” Freddie replied, a faraway look in his eyes. “I wanted to see you. To talk to you about something. Didn’t expect to walk into a fucking rave at one A.M on a Wednesday night.”

There was a certain bitterness to his voice that made Magnus snap into sharp attention. It wasn’t ordinary for Freddie to be bitter. Sarcastic, yes. A little biting? Sure. But bitter? That was something entirely new for Freddie Mercury.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Magnus asked gently, in the tone of a man trying to sooth a child. Freddie seemed to notice the change as a line on his forehead disappeared as he turned around to look Magnus in the eye.

“FREDDIE MERCURY?”

The Mundie was so loud his voice was almost heard over the sound of the amplified music. In any case it was loud enough to draw the attention of the crowd nearby. They descended on the celebrity like a bunch of starved paparazzi, asking for autographs, touching his jacket sleeve, (fairies. No consideration for personal space.) clamoring for a song and just generally yelling to get his attention.

Freddie looked half dead as he stared at Magnus for one long moment, but as he turned back to face the crowd of fans his countenance underwent a complete change. His eyes lit up with an energy that was hard to fake and the corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a smirk that dripped confidence.

It was like watching someone cast a glamor over themselves. A mask being pulled over the true visage. A curtain of bright happiness closing over a tragedy on stage.

Freddie stood up and beamed, talking to some people and signing things for others. Voices yelled and begged for a song. The dance floor gradually emptied as everyone gravitated towards the attraction of the night. Magnus felt the first light grasps of an oncoming headache.

“Freddie, give us a song!”

“Mr. Mercury can you sign my T shirt?”

“Sing something!”

“Freddie!”

“Freddie Mercury!”

“Freddie!”

The young performer turned to Magnus and nodded. It was all the initiative he needed to wave his bejeweled hand in a sweeping motion. He watched with disinterest as the familiar blue sparks flew and a grand piano appeared on an elevated stage in the middle of the dance floor. Freddie made his way to the beauty with a light spring in his step and ran a teasing hand over the keyboard before settling down. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers started the complicated dance across the keyboard, and a familiar tune filled the air.

“Tonight I’m gonna have myself, a real good time…” The hauntingly beautiful voice rang out and the bodies all around Magnus started swaying to the rhythm, almost as if an enchantment had been casted over all of them. Then again Magnus supposed Freddie’s voice was a magic of its own kind.

The tune picked up the pace and Magnus watched in fascination as Freddie’s long skillful fingers waltzed across the piano keys, the movement every bit as feverish as the gleam in his eyes. Magnus knew something was wrong. He felt it in his bones as he watched the young man perform, effortlessly exuding waves of uncontained enthusiasm that seemed to make the very air around him drunk. When Magnus let his body move to the rhythm it was like setting a bird free. His heart beat in his throat as his body found an output to all the frustration, pent up feelings and foreboding he had felt in the past weeks.

So he danced, hips swaying to the rhythm as he just let go. He had acquired an eager partner from the crowd though he had no idea how she came to be in his arms. Yet it was relieving. To be in the arms of a stranger, without a care in the world about what has happened or might happen. For that infinite moment, Magnus was Mr. Fahrenheit, with all the reckless abandon of a shooting star and the chaotic energy of a racing car passing by.

When the song came to its soothing end, made even softer by Freddie’s pensive voice, Magnus felt tears prick at his eyes. He did not know why, but everyone in the room seemed to be frozen in place, as if a prophet had revealed a dark and lovely Truth that left them entranced.

Freddie got up and bowed. The room erupted in cheers. But Freddie payed no mind as he made his direct way to Magnus and grabbed his hand.

“Come with me,” He said and dragged the dazed warlock towards the bedroom. His feverish eyes shone with a desperation that Magnus had seen before countless times on many faces.

It was a drowning man’s last cry for help.

Realization dawned on Magnus with the brutal force of a thousand meteors. Even as he was pulled into the room and the door closed behind them, he knew what Freddie was going to say.

“I’ve got it. The sickness. AIDS.” The blow was no less gentle after all the time Magnus had heard those words. “But you can make it better right, Magnus?” That was always the hardest. He couldn’t. He couldn’t make it better. The Angel knows he had tried. But there was a limit to what he could do in healing magic. Even Catarina, who was adept at healing had not figured out way to cure this demented illness. It was akin to a curse in its cruelty. And no man or warlock alive could make it better.

“Magnus?” The man pleaded, his eyes big and luminous on his face. “Please you have to!”

Magnus sat down on his bed, helpless, sad and bitter. It wasn’t fair. He had helplessly watched innocent men and women die and he had to watch yet another friend succumb to that terrible, wasting disease.

“Freddie, I’m sorry...” He spoke softly, as one would do when they take away a man’s last hope at life. “I cannot cure you. It is beyond my abilities.”

He watched as Hope drained out of Freddie’s face, leaving a trail of anger, desperation and frustration that finally turned into defeated acceptance. It was hard for Magnus to watch. Here was a man once so full of life he had brought stadiums full of people to their feet dancing with nothing but his voice. This was a man who had danced the night away with Magnus in countless parties, a man he had shared stories, sorrows and drunken kisses with. He was Freddie. And he was dying. But there was nothing Magnus could do.

So he did the only thing he could do; something so small and trivial in the face of what he wished he could do. He got up and walked over to the hunching man and engulfed him in a hug. As if on cue Freddie broke down in deep sobs that shook his frame and left him wheezing.

They stood there, the man and the warlock, in each other’s arms, buried deep in thoughts about how the other deserved so much better than what life gave them. And they stayed like that, in an embrace they both dreaded might be their last, for a long long time.

.

@shinyun--jung oh wait, did I forget to mention the Freddie fic was angst?

[marquisoforder]

Memento Mori

Alexander Lightwood Bane is 42 years old when Magnus notices it while laying in bed one Sunday morning. Something that makes his heart skip a beat and make him feel as if his chest is caving in. A single grey hair, right above Alec’s ear, almost unnoticeable unless you were looking extremely carefully. Magnus swallows hard and snaps his fingers. Blue sparks fly and Alec no longer has a grey hair.

🍂

Max Lightwood Bane aged like a Mortal until he was 25 years of age. Magnus remembers standing next to Alexander on Max’s 25th birthday dinner, a quite and intimate affair with only the four of them in attendance. He remembers swallowing hard and trying not to panic when he realizes that they all look older than him now. The four of them look like a mismatched bunch of siblings. He tries to shake off the feeling of impending doom and smiles at his sons before squeezing his husband’s hand.

🍂

Rafael Lightwood Bane is 28 when he becomes a father. Magnus remembers him holding a little pink bundle close to his heart, with adoration and awe written all over his face. And not even a hint of fear. But Magnus remembers how scared he was about adopting Max. And then Rafael. He feels immensely proud of what these boys have become. He feels relived that him and Alexander were good fathers and now grandfathers. But with a jolt he realizes he will never look like someone’s grandfather.

🍂

Alexander Lightwood is 65 years old when one night he collapses on to a sofa, clutching his side. Magnus feels his breath hitching as he drops the book in his hand and rushes to his husband. But guilty relief washes over him when Alec look at him with tears eyes and whisper a heartbroken “Jace”. Magnus feels tears pricking at his eyes, but somewhere in his heart of hearts, he’s glad. He’s glad it isn’t Alexander.

🍂

Magnus Bane is 468 years old when Max and Rafael come barging into their, no, his, he has to remind himself, his room. He can barely make out Max’s face in the dark as he kneels by the bed and gently takes Magnus’s hand in his dark blue one. Rafael, ever the straightforward Shadowhunter, goes directly to the windows and opens the curtains, blinding Magnus with cruel sunlight and giving his sons a better look at the room that’s covered with dust and bottles of liquor. ”Don’t do this to yourself, papa.” They say. ”It’s been 18 years! You have to come out sooner or later! You can’t do this forever!”

”Oh But I can!” Magnus scares himself and his children with how broken and detached he sounds. ”I can do this forever, can’t I? I will be like this for the rest of my life. And the rest of life,” A dry humorless chuckle escapes his lips. ”will stretch forever.” He yanks his hand away from Max’s hand and glares at the open windows. ”Leave now.” His words are stuck somewhere between a plea and a command. ”And close those goddamn curtains before you go.”

[] Memento Mori - Remember Death []

[marquisoforder]

A kingdom by the sea

In honor of MerMay heres a Malec Mer AU none of you asked for

Read on AO3

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It was many and many a year ago,   In a kingdom by the sea...

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“Kingdom of Idris has angered a foe they have never encountered before. It falls on the shoulders of the young crown prince to battle the evil hidden beneath the silent waves of a deadly ocean.”

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The sea was undead.

Though it had appeared alive like a monster with a thousand watery tentacles rising up, nothing about the nature of this stormy sea warranted the word ‘Alive’, in description of it. The malicious winds had acted the part of a necromancer and brought the smooth sleeping ocean to desecrated life and given it the rage of a thousand drowned warriors. And as the fates would have it, the good ship Cassiel had found herself trying to navigate her way through these enraged waves, crashing overboard and doing their damned best to drag her under. And standing atop the main deck of this ill-fated vessel was a young sailor, barely out of boyhood with the subtlest hint of a dark stubble on his otherwise smooth face, on his very first voyage across the sea. And unknowing to him and everyone else abroad, his very last as well. The boy was trying his best to act brave, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. There were tears in his eyes as he tugged at a rope with all his might, in an attempt to obey the captain’s orders and hold the sails. He had seen his fellow sailors falling over and drowning. Heard the scream of Old Tom as he lost his footing and went tumbling over the rails. But the boy had not lost his balance or grip. Yet. The waves tossed the ship around as if it was nothing but a plaything. As the boy struggled with the rope, it seemed that finally his luck had run out as he slipped on the wet deck and fell over into the dark and churning sea beneath. For one infinite moment the boy was suspended in limbo, falling through air, feeling weightless and breathless. Then he crashed into the water, his clothes weighed him down and all he could taste feel and unfortunately breathe, was salt water. He was drowning and there was absolutely no hope in Hell for him when a piece of driftwood jabbed him in the ribs. With the last bout of strength that often came over the dying and the desperate, he grabbed it, hoping against hope to stay afloat as he broke the surface of the water and gasped in a lungful of fresh air. The boy’s luck had not run out yet.

Or so it seemed, until the his head went under once again. This time it was a quick and unpredictable motion. Almost as if something, someone, had dragged him down. After a second of initial fright at drowning, the boy’s mind came to a strange state of lucid alertness, making his closed eyes snap open, and what he beheld made him exhale what little air he had breathed, in one unfortunate silent scream. Holding him down with an arm around his neck was a man of ethereal beauty; wild black hair framing sharp features on a smooth golden face. The boy noticed luminous necklaces adorning his bear chest and his lips were curled up in to a sharp and bright smile. Even as his grip tightened around the boy’s neck, his smile never wavered. And as the final bit of air left his lungs and merciless salt water began to fill the boy’s lungs, he cast his eyes downwards, unable to look in to this angelic face of death, and witnessed a fresh horror.

Where the man’s legs would usually have been, there was no such appendages at all but one long tail of a thousand shimmering scales. The boy’s breathless struggle ceased, and beside him, the merman laughed.

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The council is abuzz with dread murmurs. It seems as if everyone has something to say but nobody has the courage to say it out loud. Perhaps if they were at least a little courageous, there would not have been a tragedy to whisper about in the first place. Alexander Lightwood thinks bitterly and sighs. He is not too fond of his father’s Council, but as the Crown Prince and the Lord Commander he is duty bound to appear whenever the Council is in session and lately, they have been forced to gather with increasing frequency.

“This is the third ship we lost this week!”

Lord Treasurer Blackwell speaks a little too loud for Alexander’s liking. There is an accusatory edge to his words and Alexander is sharp enough to catch the quick glimpse of disapproval that flashes in his Father, the King’s eyes.

“We are quite well aware, Lord Blackwell,” Lady Inquisitor Herondale’s wizened voice holds much sarcasm as she peers at the tall man from behind her half-moon glasses. “There is no need to raise your voice. All of us here know how to add numbers.”

Alexander cracks a smile at the old woman’s words. Imogen Herondale might not be a pleasant companion but she certainly was an adept politician and a valuable ally. Alexander had grown up watching her rise through ranks in a court dominated by powerful men and held a respect for her unwavering determination and unparalleled cunning.

She also happened to possess the second biggest army of trained foot soldiers in the Kingdom of Idris. Second only to the Army of the Crown. The Herondale army was led by young lord Jonathon, a boy close to Alexander’s age and whom the King had wisely appointed as the Sworn Shield to Prince Alexander on the day the boy turned sixteen.

Whoever held the House of Herondale in this political game, held Idris.

“Wouldn’t it be wiser for us to avoid the sea routes where these accidents happened?” Alexander knows young Lord Lovelace, newly appointed Lord Physician, knows of sea fare as much as he knew about war fare, which is to say absolutely nothing. Yet he was trying to help which was more than what could be said for the other bickering lords.

“It’s not quite possible, Lord Lovelace,” Alexander glances at Lord Admiral Branwell, a red headed man of strong build who nods at the young prince before returning his gaze to the map on the table, his eyes fixed on the patch of blue that marked the Pentagram of Doom, the ocean area where all the Idris Vessels and their crews were meeting their untimely doom. “The closest trade routes to six of our biggest trade partners cut through the Pentagram, we don’t have the time or the resources to send our fleets around the Adamas Islands just so they will miss the Pentagram. We have to find another way.”

His father sighs and rubs his temple.  Losing ships, both trade vessels and military ones, at this rate would mean a serious threat to the Kingdom’s economy as well as its security. The Fleet of Idris was famous for their ruthless battle strategies and large numbers. But if they lost half their best ships to the Pentagram, rival kingdoms would smell their weakness from miles away, probably resulting in all-out war.

“What is causing these sudden storms?” The king asks finally, his tone stuck somewhere between a question and a complaint. “This is not the usual time of the year when such storms happen!”

“You know what is causing them, Your Grace,”

The voice that speaks up is one that Alexander is not used to hearing at the Council meetings, even though the speaker was never absent at said meetings. Lady Gray introduced herself as a healer and a wise woman, but everybody knew there was more to her than that. She had appeared in the court around the time Alec was about ten years old and his father had hired her immediately. Rumors said that she was something more than human, something from the myths and legends. She neither dismissed nor confirmed them, remaining a constant mystery of King Robert’s Court.

“What are you implying, Lady Gray?”

“These freak storms started to happen after the Rebellion, your Grace.” The healer spoke in calm and quiet tones. “And we all have heard about what that rebel Morgenstern did hidden in his castle to gain power.”

“If you are talking about the rumors about the creatures of the Downworld, its just a vile story spread to demoralize our armies!” King Robert speaks a little too strongly and Alexander catches a secret look being passed between Lady Herondale and Lord Branwell, almost as if they knew more than they were letting on about the rumors that stated Valentine Morgenstern had summoned creatures from a world unknown and experimented on them until they yielded him some sort of magical power in combat and prolonged his life. “They are nothing but a myth! Morgenstern had no special power about him or his armies!”

Lady Gray gazes at the King for one long minute of sizzling anticipation but sits back in her chair without another word, but her words and her look had caused the Council to break into nervous murmurs again, and Alexander himself feels oddly ominous about the situation and suspicious about his father’s sudden lashing out as well as the look that passed between Lady inquisitor and Lord Admiral. Alexander hadn’t been the one to lead the troops against Valentine in his castle, but he knew both his father and Lord Branwell had been there and they seemed to have witnessed something that warranted utmost secrecy if even Alexander wasn’t privy to it.

“We’ll discuss this again when we gather next week, I expect all of you to come forward with a plan to avoid more such tragedies.” His father sounds resigned as he waves a hand and dismisses the Council. “Lady Inquisitor, Lord Admiral and Lady Gray, please remain behind.”

At that moment Alexander knows there is more to this than what meets the eye.

[marquisoforder]

——۞ fℓαωє∂ αи∂ fяєє

ι ѕтιℓℓ ωαт¢н уσυ ωнєи уσυ'яє gяσσνιи'

αѕ ιf тняσυgн ωαтєя fяσм тнє вσттσм σf α ρσσℓ

уσυ'яє мσνιи' ωιтнσυт мσνιи'

αи∂ ωнєи уσυ мσνє, ι'м мσνє∂

уσυ αяє α ¢αℓℓ тσ мσтισи

тнєяє αℓℓ σf уσυ α νєяв ιи ρєяfє¢т νιєω

ℓιкє נσиαн σи тнє σ¢єαи

ωнєи уσυ мσνє, ι'м мσνє∂

The first time Magnus walks in on Alec dancing, it takes him a second to realize that’s what he’s doing. For it wasn’t really dancing, just gentle swaying and humming and occasional languid spin while his main focus laid on organizing a bookshelf. He doesn’t notice Magnus watching, too entirely captured in the rhythm and the task at hand. But the sight makes something contract in Magnus’s heart. He’s always wanted this. For Alec to feel free in his loft, to know that he’s free here to do as he pleases, to know that this is Home.

ωнєи уσυ мσνє

ι'м ρυт тσ мιи∂ σf αℓℓ тнαт ι ωαииα вє

ωнєи уσυ мσνє

ι ¢συℓ∂ иєνєя ∂єfιиє αℓℓ тнαт уσυ αяє тσ мє

They don’t dance together often. So every time they do, it’s special to Magnus. He knows he’s an excellent dancer. Etta had told him that much. She used to dance with him every night. Her face nestled into the crook of his neck, her hair smelling pleasantly of citrus. Dancing with Etta was a habit. She knew it and so did he. Dancing with Alec was a ceremony. Everything had to go right. Magnus didn’t want that experience to be anything but perfect. He didn’t want to be anything but perfect for him. Alexander Lightwood brought out the best in Magnus Bane. And he wasn’t even trying.

ѕσ мσνє мє, вαву

ѕнαкє ℓιкє тнє вσυgн σf α ωιℓℓσω тяєє

уσυ ∂σ ιт иαтυяαℓℓу

мσνє мє, вαву

Alexander Lightwood doesn’t know how much power he holds over Magnus. He doesn’t understand that this warlock would go to the ends of Edom for him. Yet every shy smile he offers, every little kiss, even the simplest of touches convinces Magnus that if his Shadowhunter asked him to lay down his life, he would do so in a breath.

уσυ αяє тнє яιтє σf мσνємєит

ιтѕ яєαѕσиιи' мα∂є ℓυ¢ι∂ αи∂ ¢σσℓ

ι киσω ιт'ѕ иσ ιмρяσνємєит

ωнєи уσυ мσνє, ι мσνє

уσυ'яє ℓєѕѕ ρσℓυиιи ℓєαριи'

σя fяє∂ αѕтαιяє ιи ѕєqυєи¢є

нσиєу, уσυ, уσυ'яє αтℓαѕ ιи нιѕ ѕℓєєριи'

αи∂ ωнєи уσυ мσνє, ι'м мσνє∂

London had always been the city of bitter sweet memories for Magnus. Every happy memory punctuated by one that broke his heart a little. London was Camille. London was Will. And London was Woolsey. But not anymore. Not when Alec had shyly taken his hand and asked him whether he wanted to dance, just the two of them, alone in a house full of old memories and heartbreak. The way the music had filled the night, the way they had fit perfectly in each other’s hold, the shine of Alec’s blue eyes and shadow of his eyelashes on his cheeks, it had been hard to pay attention to the words of the song or even the music when all Magnus could see, hear and feel was the man in his arms. London was the city of meaningless kisses and broken dreams. But not anymore. With Alec, his grounding anchor, the tether to this world, he can only think of here, now and the future. Their future.

ωнєи уσυ мσνє

ι ¢αи яє¢αℓℓ ѕσмєтнιи' тнαт'ѕ gσиє fяσм мє

ωнєи уσυ мσνє

нσиєу, ι'м ρυт ιи αωє

σf ѕσмєтнιи' ѕσ fℓαωє∂ αи∂ fяєє

Alec moves with the easy grace of the Nephilim. It’s a delight to watch. Even when he’s just moving around in the loft, going about some mundane business, still lithe and graceful to a fault. But in every other Shadowhunter Magnus had encountered, that easy grace was tainted with a little arrogance. Either in the stubborn set of their shoulders. Or the cockiness of their stride. Their gracefulness was that of Raziel, here to deliver vengeance and justice. But not with Alec. His grace was the one of Angel Raphael, here to heal and mend and care. And every time they touch, kiss, make love, Alec’s grace saves him a little. Alexander thaws a heart that had been frozen for half a century. Lord knows his Shadowhunter isn’t perfect, but Magnus knows better.

ѕσ мσνє мє, вαву

ѕнαкє ℓιкє тнє вσυgн σf α ωιℓℓσω тяєє

уσυ ∂σ ιт иαтυяαℓℓу

мσνє мє, вαву

ѕσ мσνє мє, вαву

ℓιкє уσυ'νє иσтнιи' ℓєfт тσ ρяσνє

αи∂ иσтнιи' тσ ℓσѕє

мσνє мє, вαву

It scares Magnus how close he had come to being a calcified relic of his true self over the past decades. He wonders what would have happened if Alec didn’t wander into Chairman Meow’s birthday party. And that unknown future sends shivers down his spine. But his Shadowhunter did come. A shy blue eyed heartbreaker wearing his heart on his sleeve. Moving Magnus with his blunt honesty and innocent eagerness. A natural sort of candidness, hard to fake or to forge, etched onto his handsome face. Magnus had nothing to lose and everything to gain with just one ‘Yes’. And by the Angel, was he glad he had agreed.

σн вαву, σн вαву

мσνє ℓιкє gяєу ѕкιєѕ

мσνє ℓιкє α вιя∂ σf ραяα∂ιѕє

мσνє ℓιкє αи σ∂∂ ѕιgнт ¢σмє συт αт иιgнт

And he wants everything about Alec for eternity. The soft arch of his eyebrows, the blue shine of his eyes, the graceful way he walks and the determined way he talks. But most of all he wants the way Alec feels when he moves in his arms, the way his soft breaths ghost across Magnus’s lips when they break away from a kiss, the way he smells of sandalwood and leather and runes, the way he scrunches his nose when he is troubled or annoyed, the way he leans into Magnus’s touch when he’s tired, the little odd things that no one else but Magnus gets to witness, them to be with him for eternity. Magnus knows he’s cursed to live on even when Alec is long gone and everyone else who knew and remembered him had followed him. And it kills him to know that once it’s happened, those odd little things are the only thing that can keep him going. So he wants them all. To himself. No one else but himself.

мσνє мє, вαву

ѕнαкє ℓιкє тнє вσυgн σf α ωιℓℓσω тяєє

уσυ ∂σ ιт иαтυяαℓℓу

мσνє мє, вαву

ѕσ мσνє мє, вαву

ℓιкє уσυ'νє иσтнιи' ℓєfт тσ ℓσѕє

αи∂ иσтнιи' тσ ρяσνє

мσνє мє, вαву