Jun 8, 2021
Magnus: It must be hard not being able to laugh
Alec: I do have a sense of humor you know
Magnus: I've never heard you laugh before
Alec: I've never heard you say anything funny
seen from France
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Netherlands
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from India
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Serbia
seen from Serbia
seen from Serbia
seen from Serbia
seen from Serbia
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Malaysia
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from T1
Magnus: It must be hard not being able to laugh
Alec: I do have a sense of humor you know
Magnus: I've never heard you laugh before
Alec: I've never heard you say anything funny
Weirdly in the mood to write some crazy romantic shit.
Does anyone have a prompt/keyword/scenario for a malec snippet?
Malec Week: Office AU
Hello! I’ve finally gotten this prompt done! Took me three/four times, but I got there eventually. Enjoy some Malec Office AU for Malec Week 2018!
*
Alec walked through the front doors of the New York office at promptly five in the morning where the sun had barely begun its ascension over the various skyscrapers and condos to alert those who dare wake up at the ungodly hour that it was time to start moving. Alec was one of those few.
It was necessary in his current business. Pandemonium was run by a fierce, yet passionate, man who deserved nothing but absolute perfection. Alec, of course, never saw it this way at first. He had just been the one who ran and got coffee for everyone and somehow made it to being the personal assistant of the number one himself; Magnus Bane. Intimidating, watchful, and keen would be the perfect words to describe him – along with asshole, The Warlock, and the workroom’s personal favorite, Satan himself. Alec would never report those back to Mr. Bane in fear of him making the majority of his business disappear, and his ego expanding to the size of Jupiter.
Alec prided himself on perfection and doing his absolute best to ensure the wellness of the entire team. His earliness meant an early start and, possibly, an early finish to a hard day’s work. He made the reports based on the previous day’s sales and marketing, as well as all interactions on their mobile site, and placed them on the desks of everyone in the social media management department. Then, he replaced the paper stock in the copy room; prepared all the strictly black making coffee machines in the break room; sent emails to the guys in IT – because something was always broken; and called people halfway across the world to tell them that Magnus Bane did not want to be caught dead in their clothing.
Mr. Bane – Alec always made the correction – was hardly ever on site. He found it more “productive”, as he once told a temp that dared to stare at him in awe, to be inspired on location, surrounded by culture and, again, “dozens of men and women for strictly professional arrangements.” Peru was one of his favorite destinations to travel to, and was currently residing for inspiration – “and a tan.”
There was an occasion that Mag – Mr. Bane – would stay at the office for a prolonged period of time, and it could be summed up into two little, frightening words: Fashion Week. The office was always turned upside down in the months prior to the event. People were running around, forgetting things, and possibly ruining their careers by acting so foolishly. Alec was the ones with the reigns, barking orders and demanding order amongst the chaos. There were another two weeks until that time of fire and brimstone, and Alec was prepared to handle it as he always did – with an iron fist.
Six eventually came around, after Alec drank a whole pot of coffee for himself, and his fellow coworkers started to flood in and go to their assigned desks and departments. John Underhill was always one of the first few to arrive. He, like Alec, would rather be half an hour early rather than half an hour late. He also managed to help Alec when he was in a particularly tight knot. He greeted him with a wave when he came in.
“Late night, Alec?” John commented, as he passed through to his desk closest to the main office.
There was a downside to working so much. Sleep, as much as it was a necessity, did not come easy the closer Pandemonium got to its “hot spots”, as Alec liked to call them. Fashion Week, commissions, holiday seasons were all hell, and it took a toll on all of them – especially Alec. “More like an early morning.”
A few others started straggling in: Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn from marketing; Mark Blackthorn from Human Resources; Maia Roberts from social media; a few others from the work room downstairs that Alec hardly had any affairs with, and last – and certainly the least – Raj.
Alec never made it a habit to learn the man’s last name. He believed that he would be fired within the first few weeks of him working the floor after the whole incident with the copy machine during the Christmas season. He didn’t see what Mr. Bane saw in him, but perhaps it was meant as a challenge to see if Alec could tame the untamable.
“Morning, Lightworm,” Raj greeted, then disappeared like he always did when he insulted him. Alec took it as a sign that he was afraid that he could do even worse than Mr. Bane ever could.
Pandemonium was finally bustling with chatter, the sound of cheap coffee, and the mix of typing keys and numbers into their computers. Alec settled himself behind his own desk, placed beside Mr. Bane’s for the sake of convenience, and started making his usual calls to clients and partners.
“Pandemonium, Mr. Bane’s office, please hold. Pandemonium, Mr. Bane’s office, please hold,” Alec repeated. When he clicked on the third line, the voice was familiar.
“Check your computer.”
Alec sighed. “John, you can’t call me on this line. I have a separate line especially for –”
“Check the damn chat, Alec.”
“Fine.” Alec hung up with a sharp click. He twisted his seat around towards his double monitored computer and spurred the thing to life. A little blue box popped up immediately on the screen along with a red dot displaying an array of messages left unread. He opened it, clicking on the chat room that some of the other employees had created and renamed accordingly.
The_Twenty-Fourth_Floor_of_HELL Chatroom [LIVE]
RAJJ: Morning losers
Emma_C: How did you get into this chat, Raj?
Emma_C: Sleep with IT again?
RAJJ: For your information Carstairs I don’t need to sleep with someone to have my way
Emma_C: Yeah, you just annoy the shit out of them
RAJJ has been removed from the chat.
Alec rolled his eyes. He scrolled down past the various attempts of kicking Raj out of the chat, and still he managed to find his way back in, until he got to the section that made his heart stop.
MarkB: Is something going on today?
JulesB1: No… Why?
Emma_C: What’s going on?
MarkB: There are people shuffling around every
MarkB: Shit
MarkB: CODE RED
R_ Maia: Heads up! Bane is here.
Underhill_J: He’s not supposed to be here for another week.
Emma_C: The Warlock is passing by
JulesB1: Why is he here?
thebestmanraj: Oh? Did pretty boy not tell you?
thebestmanraj: Bane dropped out of a business meeting after a scandal in Peru.
thebestmanraj: whoops
Thebestmanraj has been removed from the chat.
Alec lunged from his seat. He pushed past various interns and nobodies who were in his way, beelining it towards Underhill’s desk. He turned the corner and the man was already standing coffee and magazines in hand – both were Mr. Bane’s favorite’s and must-haves whenever he was in the office.
“You,” Alec said, grabbing them from the man, “are a lifesaver. I owe you one.”
“You owe me many. Now, move!”
Alec didn’t need to be told twice. He spun on his heel, sprinting back for his boss’ desk in hopes of beating him there. The room, thankfully, was empty. Alec fanned the most recent fashion magazines down on the corner of his desk, coffee in hand. He made sure, then double and triple checked to make sure the entire office was in perfect condition before moving to the front doors to greet Mr. Bane – Alec slams right into him. Crashing the coffee all over his seven hundred dollar shirt and jacket.
Finished the malec cupcakes and they may look shitty, but I love them so everyone give me attention
Malec AU ‘First’ Meeting: Echo
My experimentation with Magnus loosing his memories.
An echo fades slowly, and sometimes not at all.
-+-
He came in on a Monday.
It was right after noon. Magnus could see the bankers passing by the shop’s windows on their way to a restaurant for a lunch break. He always envied them because they had the time to go out for lunch. They didn’t have to sit on the steps at the back entrance of a tea shop, trying to open the little bag of sugar for your coffee without spilling everything because you forgot to bring scissors again.
Magnus followed another group of two suits and a dress, all black, walking up the street. He imagined the clean and organized officers they were working in when they didn’t go for lunch, the rustling sound of paper, beeping of telephones, the dull sound of footsteps, especially when somebody wore heels, on a grey carpet. A hint of coffee in the air, mixed with perfume and that bowl of Thai-food, that had been left too long in the microwave.
Goosebumps broke out over Magnus’ arms.
Suddenly he was very happy about his lunch break on the steps at the back entrance of the shop. He could go through their storage, looking at the big peaks of tea, enjoying the sound of their in his head, smelling the spices, that still lingered from when they opened the packages. Magnus wondered if he still had enough tea at home to make it through the week, when the doorbell rang. It was a little silver-colored bell at the top of the doorframe, small and jingly. Magnus adored it. He had named the bell Misty, but for some reason the name hadn’t caught on with his other coworkers.
The stranger, that stepped in, wasn’t a face Magnus recognized from their few regular customers - and he would be very upset with himself if he’d happened to forget a face like that.
The Sock Thief
Here’s a drabble from a separate prompt list. Chairman Meow inspired!
Enjoy!
*
Magnus’ apartment was the epitome of his character. The living room was the largest where he could host whatever and however many gatherings he desired. His Christmas parties were ranked the best and always drew the attention of his jealous neighbors. The bedroom, bathroom, and additional sitting room were satisfactory. Magnus wished he could knock down the walls and push their limits if it weren’t for the people living on either side of him and the sixty-foot drop from the balcony. He made do with the space available. He could take it from the kitchen if he really wanted. It was small, albeit Magnus never used it much. He only used the counter space and table for the excessive amounts of take-out he ordered.
To keep himself and any unsuspecting neighbors spying in through the door on their toes, Magnus changed themes every month or so depending on his mood. Colors had been his primary focus and then turned to “modern chic” and “elegant”. Victorian had been one of his favorites until he found the drapes that surrounded his bed frame torn to unrecognizable scraps on the floor.
His damned cat was the only thing that threw a wrench into the entire arrangement of his space. He strutted around as though he owned the place and Magnus was merely the visitor. Chairman Meow had become the most fitting name in the list that included The Great Catsby, Purr-nest Hemingway, and Picatso. He certainly expressed his domineering character in the same manner as the actual man.
There was always something with the Chairman. He scratched at posts he didn’t like, laid on glass sculptures he did like, and despised every third bowl of food set aside for him as though it was poisoned. It was the same food Magnus has been feeding him for years. Now it appeared as though his attacks turned personal.
“I cannot find one pair of matching socks,” Magnus hissed, digging through the top drawer of his dresser for the pair he had definitely seen the day before and was now conveniently missing.
Chairman meowed from the base of the door, using the frame as a means of scratching his side. The look on his feline face could only be labeled as mischievous.
“What’d you do with it?” Magnus asked, knowing he would never get an answer. He waved around the single sock in question. “I know you did something.”
No response. Magnus sighed. He pulled out another single pair, which also should have had a twin, and compared the colors. It was a dark gray with a single black band near the foot. Magnus tossed it back into the drawer with a grunt.
He checked the watch on his wrist for the time. He was already half an hour late for his blind date. Magnus contemplated the scrutinizing sock, then glared at his now purring cat. “You wanted this to happen, didn’t you?”
The Chairman mewled, turning his behind the Magnus and stalking off to a corner he hadn’t discovered yet.
“Well, you got what you wanted,” Magnus muttered, tossing the article of clothing back in with the others.
The next afternoon Magnus returned to the comforts of his apartment. The doorman scanned him before letting him enter, as though he had never seen Magnus before in his life. He called the elevator and rode it to the top three floors of the building. It’s the best view of New York, the realtor had told him, and she wasn’t wrong. When the light was rising just over the building across the street, the living room would ignite in the golden hue of the heavens.
The elevator opened with a ding. Magnus stepped out, pulling at the loose scarf on his neck until it was freed from constricting his throat. His feet paused around the corner from his door at the sound of familiar mewling.
“You’re going to make me trip - is this it? Is this your home?”
Magnus stepped forward, the voice pulling him closer.
There was a man standing just outside his apartment door. One of his hands was wrapped around a cardboard box, a single sock sprawled over one of the sides threatening to fall over at any moment. His dark hair and angular features painted the image of him as threatening if it weren’t for the frayed olive sweatshirt with a sagging neckline telling him otherwise. Chairman was threading his nimble and lean body through the part of the man’s legs, the purring audible from the corner where Magnus was undoubtedly staring.
“Can I help you?” Magnus asked, the words caught at the back of his throat.
The man looked up, stunned. They were hazel, Magnus immediately made note of. In the quite-horrible light of the hallway, they were practically a vibrant green. “I… uh…” He cleared his throat. “I’m looking for someone.”
Magnus sauntered up towards the man, sparing a quick glance into the box to confirm its contents. He recognized a bright pink sole on a sock that his best friend, Catarina, had gotten him for Valentine’s day. His socks.
He shot out his hand to the door, twisting the handle with ease and allowing the Chairman to disappear once again.
The man’s eyes widened. “Do… Do you make a habit of leaving your door unlocked?”
“Do you make it a habit to collect left socks?”
“They’re not all left,” he retorted, weakly.
Magnus pushed the door open wider to accommodate the width of bodies much larger than a feline. “Would you like to come inside,” he offered with a flourish of his hand.
The man paused, his lips kept in a terse line. “I just…” He abandoned his words and held out the box wordlessly.
Magnus looked at the box and then at Hazel Eyes. “You can put them on the counter.”
Sighing, he resigned. He stepped forward, arm and box grazing by Magnus’ skin, and entered the realm of Magnus Bane. The door clicked softly behind the pair, followed by the clunk of the box on the counter of the kitchen.
“So…”
“Alec,” the man supplied. Magnus nodded in acknowledgment.
“Where did you find him?”
Upon the vague calling of the cat in question, the Chairman appeared and laced around the man’s legs, hopping slightly to get his attention. He eventually bowed down to scratch his head before picking him up in one swoop.
“My apartment.” He brushed his thumb over the pad of fur between his eyes and the damned cat turned to putty at the touch. Traitor. “I don’t know how he finds his way in.”
“What floor do you live on?”
Alec set the cat down on the couch. The Chairman circled, dancing around for Alec’s praise and affection until he finally sat down and settled in his lap. “I actually don’t live here.”
“What?”
“I live across the street.” Alec quickly added, “We’re neighbors, technically. Same floor and everything.”
Chairman making his way across the street and up thirteen floors was at the bottom of a long list of things that surprised him nowadays. His cat had gotten into worse situations, like getting stuck behind the toilet when he first moved in, chasing pigeons around the rooftop, and stealing treats from Ms. Robinson’s patio when she lived eight floors beneath him. Being able to carry that many socks across the street did make Magnus question the abilities of his cat.
Magnus glared at the animal. He was met with a mirrored look of disapproval. What do you want with him, Magnus asked with his eyes.
Everything, a voice told him.
“I should probably go,” Alec strained, scooping the feline from his lap and depositing him onto the floor despite the whines and cries. “Thank you, though…”
Magnus walked him to the door, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I haven’t even done anything.”
“Right.”
The door opened, revealing the empty hallway a few painfully far feet away from the confines of Magnus’ apartment. Alec hesitantly stepped out into that field beyond his reach, shifting from one foot to another with a hand in his hair. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened, then settled with a pressed line of silence. He threw his thumb over his shoulder to gesture his departure, and Magnus stopped him.
“Alec, wait.” He turned, stalking to the kitchen in search of a pen. He rustled through three drawers before finding one. He pulled the cap off with his teeth, holding it in hand while asking silently, May I?
Alec immediately offered an arm, pulling the tattered fabric away to expose the gentle, pale skin beneath. Magnus kept his hand steady while elegantly printing the letters to his name and numbers to his phone. He recapped the pen, mouth inexplicably dry.
“Magnus,” Alec hummed. The sound of him testing his name sent unidentifiable shivers down his spine. Alec looked up after stroking the name sitting on his wrist.
Magnus cleared his throat, hoping it would also clear the breathlessness in his chest. “You never know if you might find some socks that aren’t yours… or something,” he added, lamely.
“Or something.” Alec grinned, lighting up his entire face. “I’ll see you around, Magnus.” And then he left.
Magnus made sure to shut the door before he slid down the hard surface to recollect his scattered thoughts. He was always sure of how to talk and act around people, flirting and charming the pants off of people, and when approached by a sudden handsome stranger in his hallway all instinct and experience is washed away, leaving nothing but a bumbling idiot.
He stood, walking to the window that faced the apartments across the street. He watched as Alec crossed the street, imagined where he was in the building on his way up, and waited for signs of movement. It was hard with the distance. Smaller details were lost to Magnus, but it was unmistakable when dark curtains drew back to reveal a tall figure waving at him.
Magnus’ phone buzzed. He opened it and read: Dinner? Friday?
Magnus chuckled, holding the phone to the dip of his bottom lip as he smiled at the figure of Alec waiting for a response. He punched in a quick three letter reply.
Yes.
Potions and Brews
I wasn’t very inclined towards the Flufftober or my other Halloween Horror prompt, but I did like this Halloween dialogue prompt I found.
Day 10: “Stop putting your potions in the fridge!”
*
If Alec would write a book about anything in the world, of his years of poor life choices and horrible luck thrown his way, he would title it: How To Live With A Witchy Roommate.
Alec had first learned about the truth and expanse of Magnus’ abilities by accident. Magnus had been conducting a spell to have poor weather with hopes of deterring a professor from showing up to class to give their bimonthly death exam. Unfortunately for him, he exposed Alec to magic and failed that month’s tests. Since then, Alec has been privy to knowledge of how to cure moonsickness, remove attached entities - both benign and malevolent, change the color of someone’s hair by certain Latin phrases, and anticipate the weather two weeks in advance. All of which Magnus was very unwilling to share with him, but he learned very early that Alec rarely gave up on things.
The first and most important thing Alec learned was to retain and protect the secret of the witch. Under no circumstances, unless dire, was a witch allowed to reveal themselves as a magical user to a non-magical one. The result of the encounter would result in disciplinary action - as stated mockingly by Magnus - by the highest authority of the Council, and the non-magical user will be removed from magic’s way. (Alec never quite understood why he was an exception to this, and Magnus never elaborated when he did ask.)
The second was to never mess with the witch’s familiar, Chairman Meow. He was not to be confused with the wandering spirit guide, Church, who happened to appear in the apartment from time to time despite being on the twenty-third floor. The Chairman was soul-bonded to Magnus in ways he would rather not have discovered. When needed, and allowed, Magnus could see through the eyes of the feline and wander the city without ever stepping foot out of the flat - or hide under Alec’s bed to see what he did in his spare time.
Number three was to keep out of the apothecary when the door was closed. An open door meant that either harmless chemicals and ingredients were being used, Magnus was researching something for a client, or that it wasn’t being in use. A closed door meant danger, harmful potions, and products, or it wasn’t being in use. Alec could tell the difference when he approached and the door would suddenly slam shut in his face, inches from his nose.
The other rules fell into line with the years that passed. Water the plants. Do not get close enough to Charles the Orchid for him to release a potent hallucinogenic gas. The plants in the window are not meant for consumption - and no, they cannot be kept in the apothecary, because the other plants will complain about how they smell. The parlor chair is reserved for emergency resting only. In the case of an emergency, the bust of Cleopatra is to be saved. Let Queen Victoria crash.
Then there were some rules that, despite being called “rules”, were never followed by all houseguests.
“Magnus,” Alec cried, holding the orange juice container at arm’s length. “Stop putting your potions in the fridge!”
“Stop putting your food in my potion-fridge,” came the cry back.
“This is the community fridge and you have a non-magic user - What even is this?” Alec had nearly half a mind to smell the bottle, but a larger part screaming at him to not even think about how that would result. He carefully poured the contents, a dark purple sludge, down the kitchen sink with hot water and the disposal on at full blast.
“Don’t -” Magnus barged in in all his glory, an open black silk top with matching bottoms. Alec was lucky he wasn’t wearing his other robe which he found only wearable when it was the only thing touching his skin.
Both men watched at the final drop of mystery gunk fell from the lip of the container into the sink and erupted with a small puff of smoke that made the air smell like freshly cut grass.
“You didn’t.”
Alec shrugged, tossing the container into the trash alongside the other dead potions he had found earlier in the week. “I clearly did.”
Magnus’ eyes darkened, but the tips of his fingers lightened with shooting sparks of blue electricity. “You better run, Lightwood.”
“You can’t use magic against me.” It was number six in the Rules and Regulations of Magic-Makers and Other Magic-Wielding Creatures book.
Magnus threw a small burst at the tips of Alec’s bare toes. The cold bite of power made him leap back. “Watch me.”
Alec had pushed Magnus on plenty of things; cleanliness, the treatment of the mysterious Church, which way the toilet paper was supposed to be hung. Taunting him to use his magic was not one of them. If anything, they both knew he would do it. That’s why Alec bolted out of the kitchen and through the dining room and front foyer with Magnus hot - sparkingly cold - at his feet.
Rule number whatever, Alec recalled amidst the hallway sprint, don’t leave artifacts lying in the hall.
Alec grabbed the Shield of Lancelot - Magnus had objected to its hanging on the wall due to the ‘improper’ lighting of the city - and held it up against a handful of half-assed electrical current. The magic bounced off of the metallic curve, allowing the sparks to fall flat on the floor.
Magnus pointed a plainly painted finger at the shield. “You better not have damaged that.”
“Me?” Alec carefully returned the object to its place along the wall. “You’re the one chasing me with your sparky fingers, Mr. Thunderbolt.”
Magnus loosed something mixed between a whine and a growl, spinning his hands together with the fingers orbiting each other. The space between his hands held small shards of white light. The power of the current in his hands made the hair on Alec’s arm stand on end. “I’ll show you a thunderbolt, Mister -”
A sharp feline cry came from behind Alec, followed by a bump to the lower back and a swipe along his left flank. Magnus’ power stopped.
“That’s not fair.”
The Chairman circled Alec with care and precision. At the dip of Alec’s leg, the cat crawled into the small space in his lap to claim his spot, saying: Don’t you dare.
“You’ve turned my own cat against me.”
Alec stroked the back of the familiar, pulling out long purrs. Magnus stiffened, throwing his hands on his hips. He muttered something in a language Alec might have heard before but would never translate.
“That potion was for a client. I’ve been working on it for almost a week -” Magnus paused, loosing a frustrated groan.
“I’m sorry,” Alec fessed. “But to be fair, I almost drank it. Whatever it was.”
“Hair serum.”
Alec furrowed his brow. “I thought that only takes a day to make.”
The Chairman left his spot in Alec’s care, moving to dance in circles around Magnus' ankles. “Werewolf hair control before, during, and after a first transformation.”
Alec hummed. That was new. “The potion bottles are to the left of the sink, for future reference.”
Magnus scoffed. “I think I’d know that. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Magnus drawled to pick up his familiar, “I have a potion to remake.”
There was something in the way that Magnus walked that had Alec’s eyes following wherever he went. He stayed on the floor, listening to Magnus shuffle his feet, murmur something to the cat, then move around the kitchen. Silence. A cabinet opened, and the same swear word filled the air.
“Find it?” Alec mused, standing.
The door clicked closed. “Shut up.”
Unidentified Snippet #1
Alec punched digits into his phone, releasing the screen into an image on his phone in full brightness. The light stung at his eyes. “Seventeen dates. Seventeen men who’ve all said I’m too much to handle. I’m not the one they’re ready to be with.” Alec slowly shook his head, then ran a hand through his hair, making the strands shoot in ever direction. “I want seventeen dates worth of time back.”
“Alec…” Luke was prepared to lay out a long speech, but a chime at the door stopped him. Alec too. Alec shut his phone and went back to staring at the small shot glass. “Welcome to Hunter’s Moon. What can I start for you?”
“Martini,” came a cool voice from behind.
“Got it.” Luke took a quick glance at Alec before making the drink for the newest customer. Alec didn’t move much while he made the cocktail. He did twitch at the sound of metal clinking glass after Luke gave the man his drink. “Enjoy.”
“Oh, I will,” the man chuckled. Alec could hear him taking a small sip. “Bad day?”
It took a full minute of silence before Alec realized the question was directed towards him. “More like a bad life,” he found himself saying.
The man rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.” Another sip.
Alec finally looked up from the hole he’d drilled into the counter. All the breath left in his lungs left in a single exhale. The only thing he could think of to describe the man was he was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
“My life is a poorly planned shit-show. Bad timing. Horrible luck. Parents that breathe down my neck. So much responsibility that it’s so hard to breathe…” Alec knew that when the man had said tell me about it, it was completely rhetorical. But he couldn’t help but lay everything out plain and simple. “On top of that, I’m damn near thirty and I can’t get laid to save my life.”
There was a long, unsettling pause between them. The man didn’t so much as bat an eyelash at the outburst, instead he slowly turned the contents of his drink with watchful eyes. “And what are you going to do about it?”