“ …apparently we’re all twelve. ” @ Magnus from Alec
scrubs sentence starters || @luminavii
" unless you're going to follow that up with a hundred, speak for yourself my darling. " to an outsider, magnus is sure this must look quite. . . peculiar. but doesn't everything, as it relates to the demon prince, high warlock of brooklyn himself? he's perched in one of his favorite chairs, one he vaguely recalls ragnor having made for him centuries ago, peering out into the loft from his office where he's been slowly but surely getting through the requests of everyone seeking his help only to see his ragtag group of nephilim and downworlders arguing over what exactly they're going to watch for the movie nights simon insists they have every week.
unglamored eyes watch as clary and simon team up to fight for yet another star wars viewing, jace looks like he wants to run himself through with a sword at the idea, while maia and lily are looking through magnus' expansive movie collection. he's not sure what conclusion they'll come to but there's something very familiar about it all, he'd had similar nights with catarina, ragnor, raphael and even sometimes malcolm over the decades.
ragnor would usually argue his side best and they'd all cave, and magnus would loudly demand he be in the middle of the couch so he could be cuddled from all sides by his oldest friends. raphael would sulk in one of the arm chairs, for an hour at most before he'd slowly sneak his way over to the rest of them. they'd all pretend not to notice, of course . . .
shaking the memories off, magnus turns his gaze back to alec and flashes him a soft smile. " let them play, but go rescue chairman meow, he's bound to get stepped on in the scuffle. "
