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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 35: Sasha

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Jon asks anxiously.

“I’m fine, Jon,” Sasha says for what feels like the tenth time in the last three minutes. “Phone’s fully charged, so is my laptop. The trapdoor is unlocked and I can get there from my desk in fifteen seconds flat, I’ve timed it. And if all else fails”—she waves her tape recorder at him—“I’ve got this, so there will at least be a record of whatever happens to me.”

Jon frowns. “That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” Sasha sighs.

It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate that her boss has her best interests at heart. She does. And they’re all friends, and that helps too. But Jon’s paranoia has been back in full force since his encounter with Nikola Orsinov. Tim and Martin are fairly good at tempering it, from what she’s noticed, but he still jumps at small noises and insists they stay together in pairs whenever possible. She doesn’t blame him, especially after they tell the Primes what happened and Jon Prime nearly has a panic attack before he manages to pull himself together. The situation feels like it’s balanced on the edge of a razor blade separating a lake of fire on one side and a bottomless pit on the other—like their choices are to maintain the balance and risk bleeding out before they can get to the other side, or fall to one side or the other and trust in a rescue.

Sasha can admit, if only to herself, that she’s curious about what a lake of fire might feel like to swim in, or if a bottomless hole is truly bottomless, but she’s not going to doom the whole world just to see what happens if she does.

“Jon. It’s okay,” she repeats. “It’s ten in the morning. The building is full of people. I’ll be as safe as I can be. Besides, someone’s got to be here in case someone wants to see what we do in the basement or Elias decides to stop lurking in the shadows and come down to cause havoc. You three have had this planned for weeks.” Raising her voice a little, she adds, “And someone’s got to stop Tim from attempting to fistfight the waxworks because he thinks they’re going to attack.”

“Shut up, Sasha,” Tim calls from the other side of the Archives, where he’s reshelving his files.

Jon smiles, if a bit reluctantly. “And we do both need to be there, if he’s serious about…all right. Just promise you’ll be careful.”

“Cross my heart.” Sasha returns the smile. “You three be careful, too. If I hear about any of you on the twelve o’clock news, I’ll—”

“Disavow any knowledge of us and refuse our phone calls from jail?” Martin supplies as he returns from wherever he’s been and picks up his jacket.

Sasha snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to milk my association with you for all it’s worth. Can you imagine how much the media would pay for an exclusive interview with a close friend of the Waxwork Assassins?”

Jon’s laugh sounds a little unwilling, but from the slight easing in the tension in his shoulders, Sasha guesses she hit the right note. She can’t make him smile as easily as Martin or Tim can, but every once in a while she manages it.

“Don’t work too hard,” Tim says, clapping her on the shoulder as he passes.

“I intend to break out the champagne as soon as you leave,” Sasha shoots back. “Go. Have fun. Try not to punch anything.”

“See you tomorrow, Sasha,” Martin says.

Sasha walks them to the door of the Archives and waves as they set off, Tim on one side and Martin on the other. It’s one of those arbitrary Saturdays Elias has once a quarter where he declares the Institute open to anyone, not just academics, which means they’re all supposed to be in until noon. He always declares them less than a week in advance, though, and Sasha’s fellow team members have already made plans to spend a few hours at Madame Tussauds; partly it’s that they want to see if they can figure out what the Not-Sasha was doing there in the Primes’ time, partly it’s that none of them ever really go off and do anything fun outside their house and they frankly deserve it. Sasha also knows that Tim is going to practice what he’s been learning, about targeting his vision. She’s not sure if that’s knowledge granted to her by the Eye or if she just knows Tim well enough to have figured it out; either way, she wonders if Jon and Martin are aware of it and if she should have warned them. Then she recalls Jon’s half-finished sentence and mentally kicks herself. Of course Jon and Martin are aware of what Tim’s planning. He’s trying to be better about communicating—they all are—so of course he would have told them, probably when he booked their tickets for today. He probably just forgot she hadn’t been part of the conversation.

She heads back to her desk and tells herself not to worry. They’ll be fine.

Settling in at her computer, she goes back to the research she’s doing on this current statement. Martin’s new cross-indexing system pulled up several potential matches, and she’s digging to see if any of it pans out. (Although, considering the nature of the statement, maybe she shouldn’t use phrases like that.) It’s definitely a Flesh statement; unlike the others, which can be more subtle, the Flesh is blatantly obvious when it turns up.

After a few minutes, though, she gives up. She does not have the stomach for this, not today. Instead, she clicks through a few layers of security until she’s in her private, hidden part of her laptop and her private research project. She’s got a few notes to dictate, and she doesn’t like taking work home with her, so she scoops up her laptop and the new tape recorder that matches her nails and retreats to the depths of Document Storage. They prefer doing their unofficial tapes…not on the main floor. It makes them feel a little better, she supposes.

It’s Martin who carved out the space in the boxes, carefully shuffling them around until there’s a little niche just wide enough for a comfortable chair, with an extra box missing from the layer so there’s somewhere to set drinks or notes as the case may be. It’s Tim who found the worn but sturdy armchair at a charity shop, and, surprisingly, it’s Jon who bought what is possibly the world’s tackiest slipcover, what Sasha can only class as “electric paisley”. Tim claims it looks exactly like what he sees when he looks at the shelves in the Archives, but only to Sasha and Martin; he doesn’t even joke about it in front of Jon. Sasha can’t decide if it’s sweet or something she should be concerned about.

She settles into the armchair, legs folded into the lotus position beneath her, and sets her laptop on the note box, then clicks on her tape recorder.

“Research of Sasha James, Archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, regarding the heads of the Institute, past and present,” she says. “Recorded eleventh February, 2017. Notes on Director Thomas Fitzwalter, fourth Head of the Institute, tenure 1940 to 1941.”

At least she doesn’t have a lot of people to look into. In some ways, her self-appointed task is easier than Tim’s or Martin’s, just because the scope is so much tighter. In other ways, of course, it’s harder. Tim only needs to work with himself, and Martin’s index is entirely self-contained within the Archives and their ongoing research. Sasha may only have a total of seven people to actually look into, but they’re hard to pin down. Partly it’s their age; records that predate digital record-keeping are trickier to search, as she has to hope they’ve been indexed online or find a library that might have the resources she needs. Partly it’s the fact that, well, they’re men who were only nominally themselves and were actually Jonah Magnus. Naturally he wouldn’t want people looking too closely at them.

But she’s struck, as she describes the details she’s been able to pull up about the man who had the shortest tenure as Institute Head due to what was either a poorly-timed or well-timed German bomb, by just how unremarkable all of the people she’s looked into were. None of them were standouts in their field, students from prestigious universities, or the scions of powerful families—which has to be a first in academia. She’s working her way backwards, so maybe she’ll find something different with the two men between Jonah Magnus and Thomas Fitzwalter, but so far, not a single one of them has been remotely distinguished, and in any other institute it would be a shock for them to ascend to head it up. Especially so quickly.

“I’m kind of curious as to why the Eye didn’t warn Fitzwalter about the attack in time to get under cover,” she muses. “I’m still doing research into him, so it’s possible he just wasn’t very likable or intelligent, but—”

“Hello?”

“Shit,” Sasha hisses. It’s not one of her boys—or Elias, which is a plus—but that means it’s someone she needs to deal with. “End recording.”

She snaps off the tape, pockets the recorder, closes her laptop, and hastens out to the main Archives with a smile plastered on her face. It falters when she sees who’s standing there—none other than P.C. Basira Hussain, arms folded tightly across her chest. Sasha is ready to get defensive, but then she takes a closer look at her face. She looks…grim is one word for it. Haunted is another. Gutted might come closest.

“Officer Hussain?” she says cautiously.

Basira makes a good effort at glaring at her, but it’s not particularly intimidating. “Was looking for J—Sims.”

“He’s out today,” Sasha answers. “It’s just me, I’m afraid. Can I help you?”

Basira makes a noncommittal noise. “That happen often? Them leaving you to hold down the fort on your own?”

“No, usually there are at least two of us around at all times, especially these days. But we’re also not usually here on Saturdays,” Sasha says. “Open house. Director Bouchard”—she says his name in the clipped, precise, tight-lipped manner of a woman in a male-dominated industry speaking of a superior who would like to keep it that way—“scheduled it somewhat last-minute, and the others already had plans for the afternoon.”

“And they made you stay, did they? Typical men.”

“Actually, I offered. I’ve taken more days off in the last year than all three of them put together, not counting when Martin was out on medical leave after his stint as a colander.”

Basira almost smiles. Sasha sets her laptop on her desk and comes closer. “Okay, I’ve got to ask—is this a professional visit or a personal one? Not like that,” she adds quickly when Basira stiffens. “I know you’re not—Jon doesn’t seem like your type. I just meant—are you here as a cop or…?”

“No, it’s…” Basira sighs heavily. “Just needed to talk to him, I guess. I called yesterday and—”

Sasha remembers now. Jon came out of his office and had Martin pull up all the cases they’ve come across involving the name Maxwell Rayner. “Yeah, I—he mentioned that.”

“He did,” Basira says flatly.

Shit, they’re not supposed to know Basira is feeding him those tapes…but then Sasha thinks, to hell with it. “Yeah. It’s hard to keep secrets around here, you know? Turns out we’re all developing spooky supernatural powers, and mine is that sometimes I know things without knowing how I know them. I mean, sometimes I can Know things on purpose, but mostly it’s just passing by someone and accidentally plucking a secret out of their brain without meaning to. Let me tell you, I did not need to know that the man behind the counter at my favorite coffee shop has a foot fetish.”

“I dunno, that might be useful in the summer if you’re the type to wear sandals.” Basira relaxes, just a fraction, which surprises Sasha more than a little. “What did he say?”

“Just that you’d called and asked about Maxwell Rayner. Look, have a seat, you look like you’re about to fall over. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? There’s some peppermint hot cocoa, too, if that strikes your fancy.” Sasha means it—Basira does look like she needs some fortification, and maybe to talk and get something off her chest—but if she’s being honest, she’s also burning with curiosity about what happened. She’s got to be careful about bringing that up, though. “Sorry we don’t have anything stronger, but, you know, we’re pretending to be professional.”

“Actually, that cocoa doesn’t sound too bad,” Basira mutters. She drops into Tim’s chair and leans her folded arms on his desk, staring at the surface like it holds the secrets of the universe.

Sasha hurries over to their tea station and pulls out one of the spare mugs they rarely use, along with the mug that long ago became hers. Cocoa sounds good, actually. It was grey and overcast when she came in, and she Knows without meaning to that it’s just barely warm enough that it’s raining instead of snowing, so it’s a good day for cocoa. She gives a fleeting thought to wondering if the Primes are warm enough in the stone tunnels, then goes back to making the cocoa.

“Here,” she says, handing the guest mug to Basira. “Made with water, not milk, but I mix a little bit of creamer into it. Works a treat.”

“Thanks,” Basira mutters.

As Sasha takes her seat, she notices her tape recorder sitting on her desk. It was definitely in her pocket a minute ago, and she definitely didn’t take it out, but there it is, innocuously resting next to her laptop. And, she notices, it’s running.

It’s not really a surprise, in some ways. Obviously Basira has a statement, and obviously it’s the real McCoy. It just startles Sasha that the tape recorder turned itself on…and for her. She sort of figured that only happens for Jon. It’s honestly a bit of a thrill, knowing that whatever is behind these tapes recognizes her.

She collects herself. “I take it that…whatever you were asking about Rayner for didn’t go well?”

Basira takes a long drink of her cocoa. “We lost Altman. Just…wasn’t paying attention. Don’t know what they’re going to tell his family. Guess it could have been worse, though, if I hadn’t talked to your boss first, so…tell him I said thanks.”

Sasha reaches over and squeezes Basira’s free hand as comfortingly as she can. Surprisingly, Basira grips it back. “Do you want to talk about it? I mean…I know you’re probably bound by all kinds of confidential agreements and all that, but you can ask any of the others, I’m really good at keeping secrets. We’re trying not to keep secrets from each other, but if you tell me not to say anything to them, I won’t. Just between you and me and whatever’s at the other end of the tape recorder that I absolutely did not turn on myself, by the way. Did you?”

Basira stares at it. “Fuck. Didn’t even notice it was on.” She takes a deep breath. “You know, I—I think I do want to talk about it. Don’t even care if you tell the others, or play them the tape or whatever, just…I need to talk to someone, I think. And with all those Section Thirty-One forms, this is probably the only place I can talk about it. Sure the only place I can talk about it and not feel crazy.”

Sasha nods. “Be glad you didn’t come in a year, year and a half ago. Jon’s skeptic act was legendary.”

“I’ll bet. He looks like a skeptic who got thrown in the deep end.” Basira makes an attempt at a smile. “Where do you want me to start?”

“As the King of Hearts said to the White Rabbit, ‘Begin at the beginning, and go on until you reach the end: then stop.’”

“Alice in Wonderland. Fitting. That’s about what it felt like.” Basira sets down the mug on the table. “Well then. I guess the beginning is with the disappearance of Callum Brodie.”

Sasha keeps her eyes on Basira’s face as she describes the events at the Outer Bay Shipping industrial complex in Harringay. There’s just a little bit of static in her ears as she listens, but mostly it’s just Basira’s voice and the story she’s telling. It is…objectively terrifying, to be honest. Sasha’s always been just a little bit afraid of the dark, or at least of what might be hiding in the dark, and although she never says anything to the others, the Dark statements get to her. She’s never heard one live, though. Never sat with someone and felt their terror coursing through the loop of the shared space between them as they describe coming face to face with one of the two entities Sasha is willing to admit she genuinely fears (the other, obviously, being the Stranger, and she’s still not sure if that’s because of what it did to her Prime counterpart or because of what it did to Tim or just because it’s the natural enemy of the entity she’s bound to). It’s compelling, and the air seems charged with something, but she can’t say what.

“I think they were connected to that cult group from way back, the Church of the Divine whatever,” Basira says at last. She sounds drained.

“The People’s Church of the Divine Host,” Sasha supplies. “Rayner was their leader back in the nineties. We’ve had—God, how many statements about them? I can probably pull them for you if you want.”

“I don’t,” Basira says firmly. “Not even a little. I’ve been thinking a lot over the last few days, and…I’m done. With the police, with Section Thirty-One, all of it. Was going to tell Jon in person, but if he’s not here, this is the best I can do. Anyway, you all have my statement. I felt like I owed it to you.”

Sasha tilts her head to one side. “You’re really quitting?”

“Yeah. And you should, too. All of you. This place…it’s not right.”

Sasha can’t help the soft snort of laughter. “No kidding. I can’t, though.”

Basira raises an eyebrow. “Have to see it through? Or is it loyalty to your coworkers?”

She sounds bitter—like she’s talking from personal experience. Sasha wants to probe at that, but throttles it back. First of all, Basira is a lot pricklier than the rest of Team Archives, she won’t respond to her the same way. And second of all, she is actively trying to be less of an arse about that sort of thing. Instead, she decides for complete honesty. “No, it’s the sort of thing you’re done with. I’m being literal when I say I can’t quit. We’re bound to the Institute—to the Archives. If any of us try to leave, we’ll die.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get offered a job here,” Basira says dryly. She squeezes Sasha’s hand—it’s only then Sasha realizes they’ve maintained that physical contact throughout the entirety of her statement—then stands up. “Tell Jon I said to stay safe.”

Sasha stands, too, and watches her head to the door. Before she gets there, though, she calls out, “Basira.”

Basira stops and looks back over her shoulder. “What?”

Sasha should ask about the tapes—Jon’s going to want to know, they all want to know, and if Basira quits the force they might have to ask Daisy to bring them and nobody wants that—but what comes out of her mouth is, “Keep a light on for a while. It—I don’t want it to come after you, too.”

Basira studies her for a moment, then gives a small half-smile. “I will. Thanks, Sasha.” With that, she leaves the Archives.

Click! The tape recorder shuts itself off. Sasha stares at it for a moment, then swears. Unlike the others, she didn’t grow up functionally bilingual, so her profanity is limited to English and the smattering of dirty words she and her classmates looked up in French class, but she makes good use of them. She hits the button to rewind the tape with one hand and fishes out her phone with the other. Calling up the obnoxiously-named group chat, she hastily thumbs a message: [Let me know when you’re done.]

That done, she opens her laptop again and sets into some serious research.

Nobody ever visits the Archives on Open House days; the only people who ever come down here anyway are students doing dissertations who need firsthand accounts, especially older ones, and no self-respecting student works on a Saturday morning. So there’s no one to interrupt her as she clicks through Martin’s index, then switches her focus to the onerous task of following the twists and threads of corporate ownership. They haven’t done much research into Maxwell Rayner, either, or at least not as much as they should, so Sasha broadens her search for the name. What she comes up with nearly steals the breath from her lungs. It’s a coincidence, it has to be…

“Sasha?”

Sasha jumps, nearly flipping her laptop across the desk, and whips her head around to see Jon, Martin, and Tim coming towards her, looking worried. “Jesus, you three scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering. We got worried,” Martin says, pointing at her phone.

Sasha looks and sees that she’s missed fifteen texts in the group chat, starting with [We’re done. What’s up?] and devolving from there into mild panic. She flushes. “Sorry. I guess I got a bit wrapped up in my research…didn’t expect you to be done so quickly. Um, how did it go?”

“Fine. Stranger-free,” Tim answers. “One of the staff members has something, though. Jon smelled the statement on her—”

“That makes it sound worse, somehow,” Jon mutters.

“—and I’m pretty sure it’s a Desolation,” Tim continues. “Hopefully she stops by at some point so we can confirm that. What are you still doing here?”

Martin looks over her shoulder at the page called up on her screen. “Max—? Basira. She called back?”

“She was here,” Sasha tells him. She points at her recorder. “The operation she was on went sideways. It’s all on there, but if you’re going to listen, I need to be somewhere else.”

“No, it’s—some other time, maybe.” Jon rubs his forehead. “Summarize for us?”

“Rayner and his…cult, or what’s left of it, kidnapped a boy named Callum Brodie about three weeks ago,” Sasha answers. “The police apparently got a tip-off as to where they’d taken him—a place up in Harringay registered to Outer Bay Shipping. They had a raid yesterday and it was pretty much entirely sectioned officers. Basira called you as soon as she realized that, and by the way, she says thank you for the tip about the lights, because it’s probably the only reason they didn’t all end up dead.” She pauses, wondering how to wrap it all into a neat package, then finally says, “Details are on the tape, but the long and the short of it is that some…really dark stuff came pouring out of Rayner’s mouth and tried to go into Callum Brodie. The officer who shot him probably stopped that from happening, and from the sound of it, the kid’s going to be okay. Rayner is dead. So are three other cult members and one officer. And Basira’s quitting the force. I get the feeling this was kind of the straw that broke the camel’s back for her.”

Jon exhales, hard. “Christ.”

Martin is still studying the screen over her shoulder. “Sasha, this is—does that say what I think it does?”

“Yep. It doesn’t look like Mr. Rayner was particularly subtle.” Sasha looks up at Martin and can see in his eyes that he’s reached the same conclusion she has. Turning to Jon and Tim, who both look confused, she elaborates, “Maxwell Rayner, and the People’s Church of the Divine Host, are associated with the Dark, right? And darkness was flowing out of him into Callum Brodie.”

Jon’s face goes ashen. “Are you saying they were trying to initiate him into their cult? To—to mark him? Christ, how old is he?”

“Twelve, but…no, not exactly. Worse.” Sasha taps one fingernail on the edge of her laptop. “I widened my search for Rayner to before the nineties, especially in conjunction with…weird stuff, and I found this buried in a site about Edmund Halley. The description tallies pretty damn closely with the description of the man in the nineties, so either it’s a family line that doesn’t use suffixes—”

“Or,” Tim says, his eyes going wide with horror, “Maxwell Rayner has been extending his life by taking over new bodies as he ages out of the old one.”

“Or,” Martin adds softly, “stealing the life force of other people. Christ, I’d think that’d be more a Terminus power, but…I guess it’s possible?”

“Darkness. Like—” Jon breaks off the rest of the sentence, but he doesn’t need to say it. They all know what he’s thinking of. Sasha just hopes Elias isn’t paying attention to them right now. “I suppose that’s something we’ll have to…run down.”

“Good idea.” Sasha closes her laptop and stands up, palming the recorder. “Let’s go do that right now.”

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #time travel fix it au #sasha james #basira hussain

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malecsecretsanta · 3 years

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Merry Christmas, moonlight-breeze-44!

For @moonlight-breeze-44. I took a few of your prompts, including angst, hurt/comfort, self-harming Alec and if you squint: sleepy cuddles, fluff and found family feels. I hope you enjoy it!!

Warning: self-harm

Read On AO3

*****

I am enough

“What are you doing to find our missing children?” Meliorn stares Alec down across the table. “Two faerie children have gone missing in the past week.”

“We’re investigating the situation. We’re in the process of gathering evidence and witness statements.” Alec reports.

“What about the three missing werewolf children? Maia inquires. “Have you made any progress on figuring out who took them?”

Alec shakes his head no. “Not yet. We had a lead - one of the witnesses reported seeing someone watching the children a few days before the abductions. We looked into it, but it’s not him. He's a mundane. He wouldn’t have been able to see the children, far less take him.”

Maia takes a breath to calm herself and leans back in her chair.

Before she can reply, Raphael speaks up. “A second newborn vampire went missing two nights ago. We filled out your reports. Have you found anything yet?”

Again Alec shakes his head no. “We are investigating, Raphael. I have shadowhunters going over the reports and searching security footage.”

“Shouldn’t you have shadowhunters on the ground, looking for witnesses?” Raphael inquires.

Magnus watches as Alec takes a moment to formulate his answer. Unlike the other downworlders, Magnus knows the pressure Alec is feeling from the Clave. The Clave does not care about downworlder children and does not want Alec ‘interfering with downworlder businesses.’ It angers him to no end, that the Clave is trying to stop Alec from helping the downworlders by putting pressure on him to improve the Institute’s patrols and demon kills.

“I will. The team gathering evidence for the Seelie abductions is nearly finished. It shouldn’t take more than a day. They already have instructions to take on the Vampire abduction case.” Alec replies.

“Hold on, you have an entire Institute full of hundreds of shadowhunters, and you can only spare a single team?” Raphael sounds incredulous.

Alec struggles to respond to that. “The Clave doesn’t approve of the Institute facilitating these investigations.”

“The Clave doesn’t approve?” Maia snaps “there are children missing! Three werewolf children have gone missing in the past week. Children! If it was shadowhunter children, the Clave would have spared no expense.”

Magnus watches as Alec digs his nails into his hand. He knows from earlier conversations that Alec agrees with them, but the Clave is giving Alec unreasonable standards, leaving him little time. Magnus knows that Alec has his best people -including himself- working to find the children, but the Institute is spread too thin.

Magnus wants to cover Alec’s hands with his own and stop him from hurting himself. But he can’t, because Alec had asked him here as High Warlock of Brooklyn, and not his boyfriend.

“Maia, I’m doing the best I can. I-”

“I agree with Maia, Shadowhunter. A single team of what, five shadowhunters? Out of the hundreds you have here isn’t enough. It’s the bare minimum! Raphael snaps.

“Investigative teams consists of twelve shadowhunters-”

“-big difference-” Raphael snarls under his breath.

“- and I’m trying to allocate more shadowhunters but we’re spread too thin. The Institute has many roles. We’re constantly closing smaller rifts - which show up more often than you assume, we consistently have have a minimum of 10 shadowhunter patrols out and a third of my shadowhunters are attending a conference in Idris-”

“- We get it, shadowhunter.” Meliorn interrupts. “You’re busy with your shadowhunter business, and downworlder business must take a backseat.”

“No, that’s not-” Alec takes a breath before continuing. “Right now, finding the missing children is my first priority. But I also report to the Clave so I can’t neglect my other duties.”

“There have been five downworlder abductions in the past week!” Maia slams her fist down on the table. “This should be your only priority, shadowhunter!”

There’s a chime as Magnus receives a notification on his phone. Magnus looks up and clears his throat. “Six abductions. I just received word that a warlock was taken. He’s 18 years old, which is still adolescent considering warlock lifespans.”

“Six abductions, and nothing,” Raphael sneers, “perhaps if the seventh was a shadowhunter child then you’d take this case seriously?”

Meliorn gestures around himself. “I thought these downworld cabinet meetings were a step in the right direction. But now it seems like they only serve to inform you of downworld activities.”

Alec looks pained. “That’s not-”

Maia stands up. “I’ve had enough of this. We’re wasting time. Since you are either incapable or not willing to find the children, I’m taking this into my own hands. And if a shadowhunter is responsible or even involved, Accords be damned.”

Maia walks out. Raphael nods in agreement, and follows her out of the room. “The least you can do is to stay out of our way, Lightwood.”

Alec flinches, and then drops his head into his knuckles. Magnus can see his nails biting into his skin. It’s a sadly familiar habit, one that Magnus sees more than he’d like.

Aside from Magnus and Alec, the room is empty. Magnus reaches across the table for Alec’s hand, but as soon as his fingers make contact, Alec flinches away and stands.

Magnus reaches out, worried. He knows how hard Alec is taking this case, and how much the lack of leads is weighing on Alec. “Alexander-”

Alec abruptly stands up, taps his tablet and hands it to Magnus without meeting his eyes. “Can you fill out this report for the missing warlock? I need to rendez-vous with Underhill and see if his team got anything from the last potential abduction site.”

Magnus takes the tablet and steps closer to Alec, who takes two steps away. “Alec-”

“I’m busy, I need to go look-”

Magnus recognizes this particular behavior in Alec, and it hurts that Alec is fleeing from him. He takes a quick step forward and grabs Alec’s hands. “I know you’re working hard on this. I know how hard the Clave is working against you. You’ll find them. I believe in you.”

Alec meets his eyes for a moment. Magnus is taken back by the emotions he sees swirling in Alec’s glassy eyes. Despair, self-hatred and a steely determination to make it right.

Alec looks away, touches Magnus’s hand gently and then pulls away before walking towards the exit.

“I’ll see you at the loft tonight?”

There’s a pause in Alec’s step. He nods, and then exits.

Magnus takes it as a yes.

~~~

Alec doesn’t show up.

It hurts but Magnus gets it. Alec is under a lot of pressure and stress, from both the Clave and the downworld and his own desire to rescue the children before harm befalls them.

Staying at the institute was probably a better choice. Alec would be able to handle the investigation faster there, as opposed to Magnus’s loft, despite Magnus’s ability to portal. The notion that every second counts is well proven, after all.

Magnus just wishes that he’d got the chance to talk to Alec, and ease some of the self-hatred out of him. The downworld cabinet was correct, but they didn’t have the full picture, not like Magnus and Alec.

Magnus goes to bed alone, deciding to portal to the Institute tomorrow at noon to check on Alec. He imagines that Izzy, or Alec’s friend, Underhill would talk to Alec and ease some of his guilt and stress.

He flicks his fingers and sends a ‘good night Alec’ text to Alec. Magnus closes his eyes and falls asleep, hoping but not expecting to receive a reply from Alec. Magnus knows his boyfriend.

He doesn’t receive a reply.

~~~

Alec doesn’t message Magnus in the morning either. In fact, Magnus’s phone remains void of any communication from Alec, until eleven thirty.

Delighted that Alec is reaching out, Magnus picks up the call with a cheerful, “Good morning Alexander!”

“Magnus, do you have anything that belongs to the missing warlock,” Alec presumably looks down at the report for the warlock’s name, “Mathias?”

Magnus frowns as Alec gets straight to business. “No. I could get something from his flat. You want me to run a trace on it?”

“Yeah. I know the other possessions were blocked from the tracking spell, but I-we need to cover all our bases.”

Magnus hums in agreement. Alec sounds stressed and tired, as if he didn’t sleep. Magnus wonders how to broach the subject without scaring Alec off.

“You didn’t come by the loft last night,” Magnus says lightly. “Chairman Meow missed his morning head scratches.”

“I-Magnus.” Alec says, He sounds exhausted, and Magnus feels for him. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay.” Magnus says quickly. “Take care of yourself. And if there’s anything that I can help you with…”

“I’ll let you know.” Alec promises, and Magnus hears the truth in it.

“I’ll let Madzie know you say ‘hi’?”

“Madzie? Wait- dammit.” Alec swears as he remembers they were supposed to pick her up and babysit.

“Alec-”

There’s some static in the background. “I need to go.”

Magnus sighs and says “Alright, bye.” but the line is already dead. He checks his phone, and realizes that he doesn’t have enough time to check on Alec at the institute if he wants to get to Mathias’s apartment and run the trace before picking up Madzie.

Magnus portals to the closest spot to Mathias’s apartment that he’s been to, and starts walking.

~~~

Angry tears slip out of Catarina’s eyes and dark blue magic escapes from her hands uncontrollably as she talks to Magnus.

It’s identical to a typical mundane child-kidnapping case.

The parent or guardian looks away for just a moment in a large, busy area, just long enough for the child to run away or for someone to grab them, and in a second the child is gone.

However, Madzie is no mundane. And the way Catarina’s frantic tracking spells have been blocked is no coincidence.

Madzie is the seventh abduction victim.

Magnus is just as angry and scared. He views the downworld as his extended family, the younger souls he takes care of and places under his protection. But Madzie… when Magnus was with Madzie and Alec it didn’t feel like extended family.

It felt like his immediate family. His adopted daughter, or rather niece and his significant other. He wanted to help raise her, and be there for her the way a father would.

Magnus loves Madzie.

And now she’s gone.

Magnus carefully pulls Catarina towards him, and runs a soothing hand on her back. “Hey look at me.” Magnus tilts Catarina’s head up, and they make eye contact. “I promise we’ll find her.” Magnus infuses a bit of magic into his words.

Catarina nods, and the magic stops leaking out of her hands.

Magnus steps away from her, opens a portal up to the institute and steps through.

~~~

Magnus steps out of the portal, right in front of the massive church doors to the institute. He knocks, and waits a moment before Underhill, Alec’s friend opens them.

“Magnus.” Underhill says. Magnus detects a note of relief in his voice. “I’m glad you came. Hopefully you can help Alec.”

Magnus nods tightly, and follows Underhill to the ops center where he spots Alec talking to Izzy in front of a map of New York.

“Alec.” It’s not often that Magnus uses this serious tone without any flirtation or sarcasm, and it never fails to grab the recipient’s attention. “We need to talk.”

Alec looks at him for a second, and then leads Magnus to his office.

Magnus closes the door behind him.

“Magnus, what is it?”

“It’s Madzie.”

Alec freezes. The knowledge that Madzie is in danger freezes him in place. Magnus can see the moment Alec realizes what happened, by the terrified look in his eyes. Neither of them move.

“She’s been taken.”

Magnus sees Alec curl his nails into his hands and absently wonders, how many times has Alec done that since he saw him yesterday? How many times has Alec done that since they spoke at noon?

Magnus recounts how Catarina was waiting with Madzie to give her to Magnus to babysit, and how Magnus ran slightly late. How Catarina had looked away for just a moment, and Madzie was lost. How Catarina’s tracking spells were blocked, just like the rest.

As he talks, Alec’s knuckles grow whiter and whiter as he digs his nails into his palms and the softer sides of his fingers. It’s only when Magnus finishes speaking that Alec unfolds his hands, and Magnus sees blood.

“Alec,” Magnus whispers, reaching for Alec’s hands. “I know how you’re feeling but you can’t do this to yourself.”

He cradles Alec’s hands in his own, and feels sick as he sees all the crescent scars, some of them already starting to heal, others still bleeding. There must’ve been at least fifteen on each hand. Magnus’s heart breaks.

He summons his magic to heal them, but Alec yanks his hands back.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel.” Alec reaches up and tugs on his hair, painfully. "I-we need to find her. Them. Now.”

Magnus studies Alec worriedly and steps closer. He stands inches away from Alec, and gently takes both of Alec’s hands, unwinding the one in Alec’s hair.

“Your feelings, your emotions always matter, Alec.” Magnus whispers. “But hurting yourself isn't fixing anything. Where’s your stress ball?”

Wordlessly Alec steps back and opens one of the drawers in his desk. Magnus peers inside and sees Alec’s stress ball in pieces. It’s covered in indents and large tears, presumably from Alec’s fingernails. It’s almost unrecognizable.

“I tried using it instead,” Alec says, stilted. “But…”

“... But a mundane stress ball can’t hold up against a shadowhunter.” Magnus finishes, and Alec nods looking away.

Magnus twirls his fingers, and bright blue magic surrounds the destroyed stress ball, repairing and assembling it. When it’s done, Magnus picks it up. “I’ll see what I can do to make it shadowhunter proof. In the meantime, maybe you should consider trying some of the other coping mechanisms we talked about? Like holding the ice block, or drawing on yourself with a soft-tipped pen?

It feels like years pass (and Magnus would know) before Alec nods in agreement.

“Thank you.” Magnus steps closer to Alec and gently grasps his hands again. Magnus sees the dark bags under Alec’s eyes, and smells the scent of coffee on his breath. He puts the pieces together.

“You didn’t sleep at all, did you?” Magnus asks, deliberately keeping his voice soft.

Alec looks away, and tries to tug his hands out of Magnus’s grip, but Magnus keeps hold of them.

“Talk to me, Alec. I know you're hurting. Let me help.”

Slowly, Alec gives Magnus the slowest of nods.

Magnus summons his magic, and in a moment all the crescent cuts on Alec’s hands are gone. Magnus lifts both of Alec’s palms up, and gently kisses them before letting them go. He gently grasps Alec’s head, and slides his thumb on Alec’s cheek. The dull pain and faint ringing that comes with pulling an all-nighter disappears and Alec leans on Magnus, arms wrapping around him tightly. He’s shaking.

Magnus returns the hug protectively.

“I can’t - I can’t find them, I can’t, Magnus. I tried, but that’s not good enough.” Alec sobs, words half-muffled against Magnus’s shoulder.

“I’m trying but there’s nothing and the Clave is pulling me in a dozen different directions and I haven’t found anything to give to the cabinet and it’s been two weeks since the first child was taken. Two weeks, Magnus. And I’m still at step one. I- I don’t even know if the kids are even alive and now Madzie-”

Alec lets out a heartbreaking sob.

“-I can’t - I can’t even think of what might happen to her, Magnus. If I’d just been there, maybe she wouldn’t have been taken, or if I was better, I would’ve gotten something-” Alec shudders. “It’s my fault - it's my fault she’s gone. I should - I should’ve been there.”

“I’m not good enough.” Alec cries, and shakes in Magnus’s arms.

Magnus pulls back just enough so that he can look Alec in the eye. “Alec, sweetheart, you are good enough. You are one of the best men I’ve ever known.”

Alec looks away.

“And I know you don’t believe me right now, but it's true. But let me convince you of this. These abductions are not your fault. I see how much effort and time you’re putting into finding them. I know you’re doing everything you can, Alec. This is not your fault.”

Alec nods, and holds onto Magnus.

“And this isn’t your sole burden to bear. You have an entire institute, and the High Warlock of Brooklyn at your fingertips. We’re all willing. Let us help you, Alec. You don’t have to spread yourself so thin.”

"Let me take care of you." Magnus whispers, pleading.

Slowly Alec nods, and Magnus hugs him again, tilting his head to lean against Alec’s.

Alec hugs him back tightly, trembling in his arms. Magnus adjusts an arm to rub Alec’s back comfortingly as Alec cries. He can feel a spot on his shoulder growing increasingly damp. It’s heartbreaking to hear, but Magnus knows Alec needs this. Magnus knows from first hand experience that while crying generally doesn’t solve the problem, it’s a necessary emotional release.

Magnus also knows that as head of the Institute, Alec wouldn’t let any of the shadowhunters under his care see him so vulnerable. It occurs to Magnus that the previous heads of the Institute, Maryse and Robert, were the same way. Every time he saw them, Maryse and Robert spoke in strict, controlled tones. Magnus can’t recall them showing any other emotion than anger, on a few rare occasions. He suddenly doubts they would have instructed Alec on dealing with the stress, other than ignoring it.

“It’s okay to cry, Alec.” Magnus reassures. “I don’t know what your parents or the Clave tell you, but every leader feels this way when the situation arises. I did, quite frequently when Valentine was around. Feeling this way doesn’t make you weak, or not good enough. It makes you human.”

Magnus’s words seem to get through to Alec. Slowly enough, Magnus feels the tremors from Alec ease, and his nearly painful grip on Magnus eases into something more comfortable. After a few moments, Alec lets go and wipes his face. He clears his throat and glances at Magnus.

“Thanks,” Alec offers Magnus a small smile. “I think I needed that.”

Magnus laughs lightly and hums in agreement. “How do you feel now?”

“Better,” Alec replies, “I’m still worried about Madzie and the others but it’s not…”

“... overwhelming?” Magnus guesses, from experience.

“Yeah, exactly.” Alec smiles, before giving Magnus a considering look. “Can we do a scene? I want to stop thinking about the case and get out of my head for a bit.”

Magnus gives Alec a teasing, playful smile. “You want to lock me up?”

“Actually I was wondering if I could, uh, sub for you?” Alec asks, slightly nervously. Magnus can see the tips of his ears turning red.

“I’d love that. But are you sure?” Magnus verifies. “It’s usually the other way around.”

“I’m sure.” Alec smiles reassuringly. “I’ll let you know if I don’t like anything, or if I want to stop.”

Magnus smiles, reaches up and slides his thumb across Alec’s cheek. “Good. We won’t do much today, you’re pretty tired.”

Magnus waits for the ‘okay,’ from Alec before starting. “Go tell Isabelle that there’s been another abduction, and Catarina and I will leave the reports on her desk shortly. Tell her that you’re going to take a few hours, and then come back to help.”

Alec nods. “Okay.”

“Meet me in your room when you’re done.”

Alec nods, and Magnus smiles and kisses him before letting him leave.

Magnus exits the office after Alec and makes his way to Alec’s room. It’s hardly the first time he’s been here, and no-one stops him in entering.

Inside Alec has case files, papers and photographs spread over his bed. With a flick of his wrist, Magnus packs it up neatly and sends it to Alec’s office table.

He pulls off his outer jacket and shoes, and sits down, leaning on the headboard to wait for Alec.

Magnus doesn’t have to wait long. Alec appears in the doorway. He walks in and shuts the door behind him.

Magnus stands up and walks towards Alec. He plucks the tablet out of Alec’s hands, and sends it to Alec’s office. Then he raises his hands to Alec’s shoulders, and slides Alec’s jacket off.

With a flick of his wrist, Magnus summons soft sweatpants. He hands it to Alec.

“Go get changed, sweetheart.”

Alec nods, takes the clothes and disappears into the small washroom on the other side of the room. Not a minute later, he reappears wearing the clothes Magnus gave him. Some of the previous tension has disappeared, and Alec’s eyes only hold a glimmer of red indicating he was just crying. Magnus steps closer to Alec and kisses him. He places his hands on Alec’s back, holding him in place and feeling a bit more of the tension fade.

Eventually Magnus pulls back. “It’s comfortable?” Magnus asks to make sure.

Alec nods. “It’s soft.” There’s a contented hum from Alec. “I like it. Thank you.”

Magnus smiles. “Good.” He gestures to the bed behind him. “Go lie down on your stomach at the edge of the bed.”

Alec looks slightly confused, but he complies anyway. Magnus stands beside the bed, pulls off his rings, flicks his wrists and massage oil immediately covers his hands. He starts kneading Alec’s shoulders.

“Is this okay?”

Alec melts into the bed, and makes a muffled affirming sound.

Magnus smiles and continues. He watches as Alec slowly melts into the sheets, as the sensation of Magnus’s hands on his back takes over his focus, pushing his other thoughts away. Magnus watches Alec’s eyes close, and after a few minutes Magnus can tell that Alec reaches the line between relaxed and drowsy. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

Alec twists his head to the side to look at Magnus. “Will you stay?” He asks, sleep already drifting into his voice making it soft.

Magnus doesn’t even have to think.

“Always.”

And just like that, nearly all the tension in Alec's muscles is gone. Magnus knows that they still have a long way to go, but this is a step in the right direction. When he's sure Alec is fast asleep, he pulls the blanket over Alec, and sits next to him leaning on the headboard.

With a flick of his wrist, the massage oil is gone. Magnus summons the first case file from Alec’s office and begins reviewing the details, while gently carding through Alec’s hair.

They’ll get through his. They have to.

~~~

Four stressful days later Magnus and Alec are standing inside an abandoned warehouse near the ocean surrounded by abducted downworlder children. There’s nearly fifty of them there, from all over the world judging by their clothing. Alec holds Magnus’s hand tightly as he directs the children over to the shadowhunters and downworlders to get medically checked out.

So far, they’ve found both missing fae children, one of the werewolves, the missing vampire and the elder warlock.

They haven’t seen Madzie yet, and Magnus can tell that Alec is getting antsy.

Suddenly, there’s a familiar cry. “Alec!”

Magnus turns in time to see Madzie barrel into Alec, clinging to him tightly. Alec picks up her and returns the fierce hug. Magnus can see lines of tension that even he had not been able to rid fading.

Magnus quickly sends a fire message to Catarina, telling her that they found Madzie and to meet them at the entrance of the warehouse.

Madzie pulls back from the hug and smiles at Alec. “I knew you’d find me!” Then she spots Magnus and starts wiggling, insisting to be held by Magnus as well.

Alec laughs wetly and hands her to Magnus.

“Sweet pea! I’m glad you’re alright.” Magnus smiles, and Madzie beams back at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alec smile shakily and wipe a few stray tears away. Magnus switches to hold Madzie with one arm and pulls Alec into their hug with the other.

Finally, something in Magnus settles. His family is together, and safe again.

The End.

#moonlight-breeze-44 #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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marauder-level-chaos · 4 years

Text

In A World Like That Ch One

Magnus and Alec have been pushed into their TWI roles by a meddling demon who feeds on their happiness. It puts them in a deep sleep and the only way to get out there is to find each other in TWI and fall in love. If they can do that, they will automatically fall out of the magical slumber the demon has placed them under. Otherwise, they fall into an eternal sleep. It’s upto Malec to find their way back to each other. It is set after the TWI episode in the show, so they have met each other once already. Here is the masterlist. My AO3: malecplusotherthings

Warnings: swearing, TWI characters, angst obviously, some fluff, slight show divergence

When Magnus Bane woke up that morning, something had been very different. Everything around him looked as it always did, but felt extremely strange. He quickly shook the feeling and went about his day as he normally would. Magnus reached over to the table by his bed and grabbed his glasses. He brushed his teeth and poured himself a giant pot of coffee. He then fumbled around in his closet to find the only clean shirt left and paired it with a random pair of jeans. Great, now I’m going to have to do some laundry. I fucking hate laundry.

Magnus then headed downstairs to the antique store. His father had left him the store when he had passed a few years ago. Since then, Magnus had kept it in almost perfect condition. He grabbed one of his frayed light grey sweaters off the hook behind the door and went outside to get the mail. Usually there was nothing interesting in the mail, but today was different. Between all the credit card statements and electricity bills, Magnus noticed a deep purple envelope with beautiful silver lettering. He frowned as he grabbed a butterknife to open the letter. Inside was a wonderfully designed lilac invitation with gold writing that matched the silver on the envelope. The invitation asked Magnus to join an antiques exhibition at the Institute over the weekend. Well, they’ve got style, I’ll give them that. This was Valentine Morgenstern's way of including other smaller businesses in his circle. Between taking care of this business and his tarot readings, Magnus didn’t exactly have time for such events.

The day had been quite busy with people coming through the doors of the store constantly. It had been hours and Magnus hadn’t had a chance to sit down yet. He glanced at the clock above his head. It was already past noon. The exhibition would have started by now. He wouldn’t be able to make it even if he wanted to. He was snapped out of his thoughts by a customer asking for assistance. After helping them out, Magnus finally had some time to himself. Or so he thought. Surely enough, the door swung wide open once again. However this time, a familiar face walked through it.

“You got the invitation?” Catarina called. She was a co-owner of Magnus’ antiques store so it was obvious that she would have received an invitation as well. “I think you should go, Magnus. It might be good to get our name out there.”

“I’m a bit busy here, Cat. Besides, it’s already 1 PM. The exhibition started over an hour ago. They’re probably even done by now. I couldn’t go even if I wanted to.”

“Well, the invitation said it goes until 2 PM, so if you hurried you could make it.” Catarina said matter-of-factly.

“Well, I’m still busy so you go on ahead if you want to.” Catarina jumped over the counter to get behind the cash register.

“I would, Magnus, but you see I’m not the one who has a crush on the Institute’s Party Planner.” Magnus knew telling Cat about the boy he had met during the Morgensterns’ Mad Hatter party was a mistake. He rolled his eyes at her and glanced one more time at his watch.

“Well if it’s so important to you I guess I could go.” Magnus smiled at her. He grabbed his coffee off of the counter and marched out the door.

By the time Magnus got to the Institute, the crew had already begun to pack up. All the tables had been cleared and the chairs were neatly stacked in the corner.

“Hi...I’m Magnus Bane. I was invited here for the antiques exhibition?” Magnus pulled out his invitation from his pocket and tried asking one of the security guards at the door.

“I’m sorry but that exhibition has shut down for the day. Mr. Lightwood gave us strict orders to not let anybody in after 1:30.” Magnus let out a sigh of disbelief and threw his hands up in exasperation. All this was clearly for nothing.

***

Alexander Lightwood had been planning his exhibition for quite a while. After seeing his work at the Mad Hatter party, Valentine Morgenstern had asked him to take up a job as the Head of the Institute’s marketing and public relations team. It had been Alec’s idea to plan an exhibition in order to get to know the smaller businesses in the city. Many people would say that this whole thing was a charade for Alec to meet the man he saw at the Mad Hatter party. Magnus, that’s his name. Those people would be right. Shy, adorable and dorky was exactly Alec’s type. He knew that Magnus was an antiques store owner so Alec had sent an invitation over to his store. Being the nerd Magnus was, Alec was certain that such an exhibition would draw him out. He had called antique collectors from all over New York to take part in this event. Despite having been planning this for months, something felt odd to Alec. Something was different.

“You know, if somebody planned an entire party just to get my attention, I would probably love them for the rest of my life.” Alec turned his head and saw Simon standing in the doorway. He smiled. Simon was one of his oldest and best friends.

“Well, seeing as I was the one who planned the housewarming party for you and my sister…”

“And I do love you. What can I say, I have a thing for Lightwoods.” Simon shrugged. Alec laughed at that. “You ready, Alec?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right down just give me a minute.” Simon shut the door behind him and Alec turned his attention back to the mirror. He was wearing a perfectly tailored navy colored suit with a well ironed white button-down shirt. It brought out the blue in his eyes. His dark hair was messy but in an elegant sort of way. Silver rings adorned his long, graceful fingers. Alec picked up the black eyeliner laying on his dresser as a finishing touch to his ensemble. Alec had always been one for a little extra flair.

Satisfied with his look, Alec made his way downstairs to manage - according to Izzy, the correct term is micromanage - the details of the event. Guests were filtering in through the doors of the Institute but there was no sign of Magnus. Alec glanced at his watch and sighed. It was almost 1 PM. Maybe he was wrong about this. Maybe he was wrong about Magnus altogether. He signalled his crew to start packing up for the day. He made his way over to the drinks table where his friends were waiting for him.

“Is he pining?” Alec heard Jace ask Simon.

“Oh, he’s pining.” Simon said. Alec shot them a glare.

“Alexander Lightwood does not pine.” He retorted. “If Magnus isn’t going to come here, I’ll go to him.”

With that, Alec went to the address he had delivered the invitation to. He figured that if Magnus didn’t show it was probably because he got caught up at work. It was a bit of a walk but Alec didn’t mind. Magnus’ antiques store was very well maintained. It had a certain class to it. Alec made his way through the store, searching for Magnus. He spotted a woman behind the counter and went over to her.

“Hey, uh, Catarina, I’m looking for Magnus?” He said, reading her name off of her badge.

“Oh, he actually left for the day. Can I take a message?” Alec shook his head. Dammit, Magnus. Maybe this hadn’t gone the way Alec had planned for it to go, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to give up.

Malec Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@thatwinchestergirl67 @quickbright @julialightbane @bestieswithmydarkthoughts @plaggherondale

#malec #shadowhunters #in a world like that #Magnus Bane #Alec Lightwood #the world inverted #alec x magnus #Magnus x Alec

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anistarrose · 4 years

Text

The Liching Hour (TAZ Balance AU)

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/22963831

Summary: Taako is a lich, but he doesn’t die alongside Barry when his memories start to fade. In fact, he doesn’t die for another whole decade… until he arrives in Refuge, and first hears the clock strike noon.

Characters: Taako, Lup, Barry Bluejeans, Kravitz, Magnus Burnsides, Merle Highchurch

Relationships: Lup & Taako, Kravitz/Taako, Barry Bluejeans/Lup

Additional tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Major Character Undeath, Angst with a Happy Ending, relationships listed in order of focus

“Taako is a lich too” is definitely an AU that’s been done before, but I couldn’t resist giving it my own unique twist! I actually started writing this fic exactly eleven months ago, when I was still fairly new to TAZ, but I forgot all about it until a few weeks ago when I came back to dust it off and finish the last few scenes.

(if you want an accompanying soundtrack for this fic, then I strongly recommend Lifetime Achievement Award by Lemon Demon! the song has big lich energy)

***

The set of planar systems traversed by our IPRE was indescribably vast, but far from the only one of its kind. Over eons, countless other universes are forged and then left to their own devices by elusory, non-interventionist creators — and in more than one of those universes, a ship called the Starblaster takes flight, propelled between planar systems by the strength of the bonds between its crew. In more than one of those universes, members of the IPRE put enough faith in those bonds to undertake a great risk — fusing their life forces with their magic and becoming liches, constructing a failsafe to protect their family from the Hunger that pursues them.

In one of those universes, Taako joins Lup and Barry in taking that risk. The ceremony goes as smoothly as the transformation into a lich can go, and the three of are all able to hold themselves together, thanks to their love for each other and their crewmates...

But when Lucretia feeds her records of their journey to the Voidfish, when Lup is already trapped in the Umbra Staff and Barry cleverly cheats amnesia by falling to his death off the deck of the Starblaster, Taako stays in his living form. Being undead isn’t the first thing he forgets — no, it’s Lup that he loses first, for Taako’s bonds with his twin are more carefully documented in Lucretia’s journals than anything else he’s done or cared about over the century — but the second that awareness of lichdom vanishes from his mind, the second he forgets the safety net he has in place in case of death, a self-preservation instinct kicks in again after nearly two decades of lying dormant. No need to go charging into uncharted and potentially deadly territory — Taako’s good out here.

For over a decade, he avoids death, and he never remembers what happens to him when he dies. Sometimes animals will shy away from him for no apparent reason, and maybe that faint burning sensation that fills his chest whenever Merle channels Pan to cast a healing spell on him is a little weird — but there’s no dogs on the moon and Merle hardly ever casts healing spells in the first place, so Taako just... tries to forget about it when he can, and convince himself it’s normal when he can’t.

He has a vague suspicion that he hasn’t been like this forever, but he can’t remember a clear date of onset for these symptoms, so he just brushes them off and keeps them to himself. It’s no one’s else’s business, anyways.

Or so he thinks, until he meets the Grim Reaper one fateful Candlenights.

***

There are two presents left under the shrub, both in similar silver-wrapped boxes — but one is addressed to all three Reclaimers, and the other is specifically labeled for Taako. Neither indicates the name of the sender.

Magnus and Merle don’t even attempt to hide the jealousy in their stares as they watch Taako pick up his gift, but something compels them to all stay silent and open the boxes as subtly as possibly while the Director makes conversation with Johann on the other side of the room. There’s nothing inherently suspicious about them other than the lack of a “from” name, though the handwriting on the tags is extremely familiar, but Taako still positions his arm to shield the box from the view of the others before he opens it and sees the contents…

The interior is plush purple velvet, cushioning two items: a coin and a note. The coin is golden and about as big as the circle made by Taako’s index finger and thumb when curled to meet at the tip, and it’s engraved with runes he doesn’t recognize — but he can read the accompanying note, though he has no idea what to make of what it says.

Keep this to yourself. If you ever encounter a situation in which you need it, you’ll know what to do with it when the time comes.

A quick use of Detect Magic reveals that the box and note are completely mundane, but the coin is enchanted. Nothing feels inherently volatile or dangerous about the complex divination spell it’s imbued with, but it still gives Taako a sinking feeling, like it’s something he should be forbidden from possessing.

So he casually slips the coin into his pocket and pops the note into his mouth, chewing and swallowing as he peers over Merle’s shoulder to examine the other gift — an identical box, this one holding three circular blue patches with twelve smaller circles embroidered around the circumference and an unreadable acronym word lying in the center. There’s another accompanying note here too, this one simply reading: “For your eyes only.”

Then, three different noises happen in very quick succession: Magnus turns to Taako and whispers “What was in yours?” and a second later, the Director echoes “What is that? What did you guys get?”

But before any of the boys can blurt out some lie despite not knowing why they feel so compelled to hide the gifts, the Director’s necklace unexpectedly interrupts the conversation, glowing faintly as a staticy, panicked voice yells “Lucretia!” The Director instantly whirls away from the boys, angrily whispering into her pendant which replies with words that are hard to make out from a distance.

Almost on reflex, Taako slips one of the patches into the same pocket as the coin and disposes of the second note with the same method he’d used for the first, cleansing his palate with an elderflower macaron immediately afterwards. He doesn’t think about the patches or the coin for a long time after that — but then again, he ends up getting distracted by a lot over the course of the next few hours. With the impeding crystal apocalypse, and the floating lab, and the death crimes and all.

***

“Well, that’s weird,” Noelle says. Her satellite dish is blinking green as it rotates, scanning the perimeter of the Cosmoscope two, three, four times. “At first, I thought it musta just been interference, but… one of you guys isn’t a lich, are you?”

“A what?” Magnus asks.

“A lich. The signal was real faint at first, but it just got stronger, and now it’s fluctuating a whole lot…”

“Nope, not me!” Magnus declares, with surprising confidence considering that he doesn’t appear to have any understanding of what being a lich means.

“Well, not that I’m aware of,” Taako answers slowly. “But I think even ya boy here would know if he was a lich. Right?”

“I’m friends with a few liches!” Merle adds. “They’re fun at parties.”

Noelle sighs at Merle’s comment, and then continues: “Yeah, Taako, I guess you’d hafta know if you were one. Guess my scanner’s just on the fritz.”

***

“Now Taako, Taako, Taako,” Kravitz mutters from within the sapphire mirror, and the pure exasperation on his face is almost adorable. “Care to take a guess what your bounty is for? I would really hope that you, at least, would know.”

Taako has a feeling he’s been saved for last because his crimes are the worst, but he’s got no clue why — there’s no way he’s died more than fifty-seven times, right?

“I dunno, is it about that tentacle thing? 'Cause don’t worry, my dude, this is a safe and non-judgmental environment where you don’t need to be afraid of being yourself —”

Kravitz's eyebrows raise and he looks aghast for a moment, but recovers quickly. “Taako, you've died twelve times — but alone, that makes you practically a law abiding citizen, compared to the company you keep! I never thought I’d see the day that I’d thought Magnus, with his 19 deaths, would be the least of the evils present, but — but —”

He sputters. “But you three all seem determined to make your crimes as unprecedented as possible —”

“Unprecedented, that’s me!” Taako laughs, and tries to ignore the half static-drowned screams of all his instincts, telling him to run as far away from Kravitz or any portal to the Astral Plane as he can get. “But uh, what is the deal with my bounty if —”

“Playing dumb about dying is one thing,” Kravitz growls, “but you’re really playing dumb about being a lich?”

“But I am dumb,” Taako blurts out, before the accusation really sinks in. “I’m just a humble idiot wizard!”

Kravitz bursts into bitter laughter. “An idiot necromancer, more like. Do you really —”

“There’s no way,” Magnus cuts in. “If Taako was a lich, we would have to know!”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you would, given how long the three of you have been cheating death together!” Kravitz replies.

“Okay, first of all — how do you know we’ve actually been cheating death for that long?” interrupts Merle. “We could’ve just died all those times in the span of, I don’t know, a month or two! We’re really incompetent.”

Magnus and Taako nod in enthusiastic agreement as Kravitz sighs.

“And second of all?”

“Uh... I forgot what I was going to say second.”

“Of course you did! What won’t you three conveniently forget — GAH!”

A giant skeletal hand reaches out of the Eternal Stockade and grabs Kravitz by the robe, dragging him inside the Eternal Stockade. It slams the door of the prison with a force that Taako winces at, all the way on the other side of the sapphire mirror.

“Did we solve the lich puzzle?” Merle asks. “Are we free to go?”

“Gonna be honest — just personally, I’m not too worried about the lich puzzle!” Taako shouts back, as a high-pitched hum emanates from the crystals around them and the room begins to shake. “Mostly just thinking about how much I don’t want to remember what dying feels like!”

“You know, that’s fair,” Merle agrees as he watches a complete skeleton materialize behind the hand, wading through the Astral Sea and towards the mirror. “That’s pretty fair.”

***

“Look, you saved my bacon back there,” Kravitz tells them after Legion is defeated. “Not just my career, but the world too. Things would have gotten very, very nasty, in a way that I wouldn’t have exactly wanted to put on my résumé…”

He sighs. “And Merle, Magnus… I would be willing to let you off with a warning, because you’ve technically never escaped the Astral Plane, and that leaves a convenient little loophole in the law for you two to slip through. Even Lucas — he’s learned his lesson with necromancy, it looks like. But Maureen, Noelle, and especially you, Taako — you’re all going to have to come with me. I can’t make exceptions for those of you who have succeeded in a jailbreak — nor can I do so for a lich.”

This time, he doesn’t spit the word lich with any of the disgust or outrage that were in his voice before, but rather speaks slowly and solemnly — and if Taako didn’t know better, he might think Kravitz actually felt bad about having to lock him up.

“Look, Ghost Rider.” Taako’s heart is racing just a little bit faster than he’s comfortable with, and the worst part is he doesn’t know why. It’s tempting to blame it on the slight crush may or may not be developing, but his crushes — although few and far-between — definitely never send his pulse up this fast this early in the relationship.

“You seem like an okay fellow who’s just trying to do your job, so I’ll be honest with you — I can’t remember ever touching necromancy with a ten-foot pole. Look, I used to make my living as a chef, and when you’re cooking the last thing you want is your meal coming back to life in front of you. I’ve got no motive!”

“Does your book with the bounties say anything else about the charges against him?” Magnus asks. “The charges against any of us, actually?”

“Not a single thing, I’m afraid. The bar’s not very high, but you are some of the… less unsavory bounties I’ve hunted, which is why I genuinely hate to say this, but —”

“Oh, so it’s savory you like? Let me take you out for an evening at Taako’s Bar and Café, and I’ll cook you up as many savory dishes as you like —”

“The — the bar,” Kravitz stammers, slipping out of his Cockney accent, “is so not high —”

“He just wants to help you broaden your horizons!” Merle chimes in. “You must not get out of the — the, uh, whatever your plane is called very often, do you?”

Kravitz sighs. “It’s the Astral Plane, and — and look, we just… we need to get going, alright? Taako, I… I could give you the benefit of the doubt, I suppose, and let you stay here until you die and return to your lich form, but I still need those two souls in the robots to come with me —”

“Wait!” Magnus interrupts. “Gambling with death is a trope for a reason, right? Can we play cards for their souls?”

Kravitz shrugs. “You know what? Sure! This day can’t get any wilder!”

***

Boyland’s rites of remembrance aren’t until tomorrow, but Taako is down in the Voidfish’s chambers ahead of time, Umbra Staff clutched tight as he stares at the twinkling galaxy pattern within the jellyfish’s bell.

“Uh… do you need something?” Johann asks after Taako’s stands there silently for about a minute.

Taako twirls his umbrella and shifts it from hand to hand, half expecting it to fire on its own again like it had when talking to Angus, but it stays dormant.

“Can your jellyfish pal, like… I dunno, choose what it innoculates you for?”

“Uh… no? At least, I think we woulda noticed if it could… why are you asking?”

“I was bored.” Taako turns to leave, but before he can get back in the elevator, he hears the Voidfish sing a short tune — not quite as loud as when Magnus had touched its tank, but definitely the same three notes.

***

Taako dies a few times in Refuge before he notices anything weird about it — well, not that dying and being revived continuously isn’t weird albeit familiar, but at first he’s just immediately whisked off to the white space alongside Merle and Magnus. No special treatment for him — until the first time that they die before the hour ends, and everything starts unraveling.

Magnus leans away from locker as he opens it, but it proves to be a futile precaution as the sound of an explosion blows out their eardrums and shockwaves tear through the room, sending the floor beneath their feet blasting towards the ceiling at the same time that massive boulders rain down from above, crushing the cave’s occupants before there’s even a chance process what happened.

As the dust settles and the roar of the explosives and falling rocks dies out, Taako blinks — except it feels strange, like it’s not his physical eyelids moving as much as it is his vision shifting into another spectrum, as if someone had just cast True Seeing on him.

Huh, he thinks. Thought that would’ve killed me.

And then: Of course it killed me. I’m a lich.

(Well, there goes any chance I had with Kravitz —)

I’m a lich like the Red Robe — no, like Barry. And like —

Like Lup.

How could I forget Lup?!

The sensation of incorporeality hits him on a delay and doesn’t stop hitting him, harder and harder until he feels like he’s about to disintegrate. His red-tinged skeletal hand drifts through the air, catching the silver threads that hang lazily like cobwebs in the space all around him as his spectral fingers curl into a fist. He clutches those bonds with every ounce of strength he has but they’re unraveling now, just like his robe, like his magically deformed essence…

He’s ready to disintegrate, to unravel, to crumble into ash just like Lup’s skeleton in Wave Echo Cave, because of course it was her, it was all that was left of her —

I found her but she was gone — everything was gone, except for her robe and —

“Taako?”

Lying just a few feet away from the hem of his robe is Lup’s Umbra Staff, pulverized into a dozen smoldering fragments — and above it floats another red-cloaked figure, eyes blazing red like miniature versions of the explosion that freed her.

“Taako, I’m here!” she assures him, and her echoing voice is a chorus of too many simultaneous emotions to count — it’s worried, and desperate, but joyous and relieved and comforting all at once. “Don’t break down on me now, Taako! It’s okay!”

Something solidifies in Taako, a grounding sensation so powerful he feels almost corporeal again, but words are failing him, motion is failing him. He stays frozen as the bonds he’d clung to wind back into place, stretching from his arms to Lup’s and pulling them together into the closest thing to a hug that liches can achieve, and he feels warm.

“You idiot,” he finally chokes out. “You didn’t think that absorbing magic shit would make a bad combo with being a fucking lich?”

Lup is literally beaming with happiness, emitting beams of light that would blind someone with physical eyes. “You didn’t exactly realize either, you dingus!”

They stay in the embrace for a few more minutes — and Taako may or may not let out an ugly, messy sob or two, complete with tears and snot made of pure magical energy that crackles like lightning when it strikes the rubble below — before he finally feels stable, and Lup quietly asks:

“How much time do we have? Forty minutes? Thirty-five?”

“What?” Her words don’t sink in immediately, but the second they do, Taako immediately feels like the victim of a sick joke. “Oh, shit. The Umbra Staff’s gonna get fixed next loop, and — and I’m not gonna remember you’re in there —”

“It’ll be okay,” Lup assures him. Taako can tell from the tone of her voice that she’s just as frustrated as he is with the irony of the paradox, except trying to redirect that anger into stubborn optimism. It’s a lifesaving skill for liches of their particular breed, that ability to channel destabilizing negative emotions into sustaining positive ones — a skill Taako hasn’t had much practice with, lately.

“There’s got to be some way to cheat the loops — you know, a loophole.” Lup laughs — a rasping, echoing noise that would probably be terrifying to anyone who didn’t know her, but is a massive relief for Taako to hear. “It’s practically in the name. We’ll figure something out — we always do. Let’s just think — and besides, I’m sure Magnus will get you blown up at least another two or three times, so we’ve technically got even more than forty minutes.”

“Right, right, okay. Physical objects are a no-go, Magnus figured that out after his bank robbing stunt —”

“Yeah, I think I caught that. So we’ll have to try something magical —”

“Wait.” A thousand different realizations are slowly coalescing together all at once in Taako’s mind, and he struggles to find words to articulate any of them. “How much could you, like — how much could you see from in there? You helped me out fighting the vine monster, right, and — and ruined Ango’s cookies, so… you musta been pretty aware to do all that —”

Lup looks down at the remains of the Umbra Staff, now reduced to mostly ash.

“I could see and do plenty, if I put enough effort into it,” she explains, “but it wore me out quickly, especially casting spells. After I spelled my name, I was just… clinging to consciousness for the next few weeks. That stunt might not have been the best idea, since I’d figured out by then that you couldn’t remember, but… I had to try.”

“Did you see Barry, in… let’s see, Goldcliff and the Cosmoscope? He, uh… wasn’t doing so great that second time…”

“He’ll be able to hold it together,” Lup declares confidently. “He’s stubborn like that.”

“Do you think he realized… your situation? He was pretty stable until he saw you —”

“He would have done something about it by now if he’d known, though…”

“Yeah, of course, you’re right. But he definitely seemed like he had some kinda plan — wait, I think I got it! Where’s my body?”

“Wait, got what?”

Taako levitates a few boulders out of place, and summons two Mage Hands to rifle through the pockets of his corporeal form. “Our way out of this time paradox shit, courtesy of Barold himself! As long as it didn’t get crushed — ah, here we go!”

One of the Mage Hands procures a familiar golden coin, imbued with a divination spell of Barry’s own engineering that Taako finally recognizes. “Well, I guess I don’t know for sure that Barry sent it to me, but it’s his spell and came alongside some IPRE patches, so I’m gonna say it sure wasn’t from Lucretia.”

“Is that — is that the spell he made when Magnus was worrying about the Temporal Chalice overwriting things without us knowing?”

“Yeah, storing info across timelines is its whole gimmick! He knew we were going to go after the Chalice eventually, and musta realized that I would forget anything I did as a lich if a time loop like this revived me —”

“Gods, I love him!” Lup shouts, laughing and lighting up with joy all over again. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s send Amnesiac Taako a message!”

***

Taako faceplants in the dirt alongside Merle and Magnus, alive again and holding an unbroken Umbra Staff. As always, Roswell stands guard outside the gate, and Taako and Magnus immediately start running through their explanation.

“Great job, Maggie!” Merle mutters under his breath. “Now we’ve gotta go through this whole shebang again.”

“We’ll be able to make a great speedrun video on Fantasy Youtube by the end of it, though!” Taako whispers back, and Roswell tilts their bird head in confusion.

“What? What’s a speedrun?”

Taako opens his mouth to reply, but a slightly muffled yet incredibly familiar voice from within the pocket of his skirt beats him to it.

Yo, Taako! T to the double A-K-O! I’m you from half an hour ago now, so listen up!

“What the fuck?” he blurts out, digging out the coin. “That’s — that’s not me! I never said —”

I know you don’t remember recording this, but there’s something you’ve really gotta do, the coin goes on, still in Taako’s voice, and he drops it to the ground and stares at it in horror. It’ll make sense later — well, maybe a long time later. Eventually, I hope!

“I don’t trust you!” Taako shouts, not sure if he’s expecting the coin to respond or not. “I don’t know who’s behind this, but I know a trick when I hear —”

You need to break the Umbra Staff, Taako, a second speaker explains, and Taako goes stiff at the sound of her voice. And you need to break it again in every new cycle — or every loop, I should say, until you get out of here. Please, Taako, trust us. We’ll explain as soon as we can, I promise.

Magnus kneels on the ground and pokes the coin gingerly, as if expecting it to explode. “Taako, where did you get this? Do you know what triggered it to —”

Taako snaps the Umbra Staff with his bare hands, and a column of fire erupts around him.

As his vision turns into an orange blur, he can just barely hear Merle yelp in shock and Magnus shout in concern over the roar of the flames, but he doesn’t feel afraid — which is itself a deeply unsettling feeling, because he should really be terrified out of his mind — but he just can’t fear this fire no matter how hard he tries. The warmth of the flames that weave so deftly around him is not harsh, but rather, comforting — almost fiercely comforting, in a way Taako wasn’t prepared to be comforted, a way that makes his heart seize up just like the woman’s voice that he couldn’t help but trust.

The blaze consolidates into a spectral figure in red who floats in front of him and nods, face obscured by the cowl of her robe but a smile manifesting clearly in her voice nevertheless.

“Thank you so much, Taako. I knew you’d come through.”

Then Magnus swings Railsplitter through her — harmlessly, of course — and she turns to face him.

“What do you want from this town, Red Robe?” Magnus yells. “Why did you bring Jack and June here?”

“Magnus, calm down! Really, I should be asking you about Jack and —”

She pauses, noticing Magnus’s disoriented expression. “Shit, was that static? You know, that’s probably for the best. Let’s start over: Magnus, Merle, Taako, earth elemental who’s name I missed —”

“I’m Roswell. Could you please identify yourself?”

“Magnus, Merle, Taako, Roswell — but mostly you Tres Horny Bois, or whatever you call yourselves these days — first things first, I’m not the Red Robe you met before. Second and on a related note, yes, I’ve been in Taako’s umbrella this whole time. Yes, it sucked. And third…”

She sighs. “You’re just going to have to take my word on this one, but I literally can’t explain who I am or why I’m on your side. It might seriously damage your minds, but I should be able to tell you my name, which is Lup.”

“Lup, why do I trust you?” The name feels strange in Taako’s mouth — familiar, except it shouldn’t be, except it is, except it couldn’t be, except…

The contradiction just spirals on forever, boring a hole in his mind that aches like hell and makes his stomach churn.

“Taako — oh, Taako, you’re not thinking about it too hard, are you? You can’t think about it too hard — you see why I can’t try and explain anything else. I would if I could…”

Slowly, with help from Lup’s Mage Hand, Taako stands up. He can’t even remember when he fell to his knees, but… he tries not to think too hard about it. Just take things one step at a time.

“Lup can help get us out of here,” he tells Magnus and Merle. “I don’t know why, but I’d trust her with my life even outside of a time loop, so… we’re doing what she says now.”

Magnus shrugged. “You know, I guess we could do a lot worse than putting a competent woman in charge, even if she’s undead. Lup, whatever your plan is, I’m down for it.”

***

By the time the purple worm dives back down beneath the earth with her children, Taako’s just about ready to collapse. Physically, he’s uninjured — he had a lich and an earth elemental watching his back, after all — but mentally, he’s a wreck. The persistent roar of static in the back of his mind has taken its toll, especially since the loop where he died before anyone else, and woke up to find Magnus and Merle giving him the two most confused and concerned looks he’d ever seen on their faces.

So when Avi freezes, glowing red, and everyone’s Stones of Farspeech go dark, Taako barely has the energy to wonder why until another robed figure materializes, holding a finger to his lips —

“DID YOU RETRIEVE THE…”

Every fold of fabric freezes in place, as lightning washes over the Red Robe’s form.

“LUP?!”

“Hey, babe,” Lup whispers, unfazed by the lightning bolts as she floats forward to wrap her arms around the other lich. “Thanks for the coin.”

“But — but how?” the Red Robe stammers. “How are you finally —”

Several curls of hair, made up of ghostly orange fire, escape from under Lup’s hood as she explains, and the Red Robe gently twirls a coil of flames around one of his skeletal fingers. “How are you really here?”

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Lup explains, “but it turns out that magic-absorbing staffs and beings made of pure magic aren’t actually the best combo.”

“Oh my god, we’re idiots,” the Red Robe gasps. “We’re magical undead idiots.”

“Love you too, Barry,” Lup murmurs.“God, I missed you so fucking much.”

“Wait, like Barry Bluejeans?” Magnus asks, at exactly the same time that Taako mutters: “Ugh, get a room.”

Barry whispers something to Lup that Taako doesn’t catch, and then both liches turn around.

“So, slight change of plans,” Lup announces. “It looks like the bubble isn’t quite down yet, but once we get that taken care of… anyone else up for a moonbase infiltration?”

“I’ve got one condition,” Taako immediately announces.

“What’s up?”

“If we run into the Grim Reaper, neither of you crimson lovebirds know me.”

#taz #taz balance #taako taaco #lup taaco #kravitz taz #taakitz #barry bluejeans #blupjeans #magnus burnsides #merle highchurch #taz balance spoilers #rosalia writes fic

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years

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Baby Take a Bow - Chapter 2

Some time later Taako transmuted some of Magnus’s clothes to be child-sized and the crew gathered around to watch him with varying expressions of concern, confusion and awe at his adorableness. Magus was happily preoccupied with trying and failing to tie his shoelaces.

“So.” Davenport broke the silence. “Did you get a good look at the person who cursed him?”

“Just briefly,” Lucretia explained. “Lup agrees with me that it was an elf, but they were camouflaged. I didn’t see them at first and they gave me a fright. I don’t think they meant any harm though.”

“They seemed pretty frightened, actually,” Lup volunteered. “I think we scared them and they lashed out. I want to go out and look for them – if we can talk, they might be able to undo whatever spell they hit Magnus with. Plus, maybe they have a clue about where the light is. It’s worth a shot.”

“If this person is an elf, they might trust Taako and Lup the most.” Davenport suggested. “The rest of us should be okay here if you two want to go look for them.”

“Nuh uh!” Merle piped up. “I wanna see the plant elf thing! Plants are my speciality. I’m coming too.”

“Sure.” Davenport nodded, glancing around at the team. “Merle, Lup and Taako, you’re out looking for information. Lucretia, I’ll need your held checking the bond engine is working at full capacity. We took a couple hard hits from the Hunger in the last cycle. And someone’s gonna have to watch Magnus for a couple hours. Barry?”

“Sure, I can do that.” Barry did not look sure. In fact, he looked rather unsure, but he squared his shoulders. Davenport nodded.

“Good. We’ll reconvene at noon. Merle, Lup and Taako, keep your stones of farspeech on at all times and update us if you find anything.”

The group split to go off on their various assignments. Lup brushed Barry’s shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“No worries, Care-Bear, you’re gonna do great. Enjoy babysitting duty.”

Barry snorted. “I’ll try. Be careful out there, okay?”

“Sure thing babe.”

Lup jogged out to join her teammates.

Leaving Barry to stare at a rather confused-looking Magnus. The child glanced around before asking, “Where did everyone go?”

Magus was a kid now. They’d faced weirder stuff. And Barry and Magnus were friends, they hung out all the time. There was no reason this should be any different.

Barry hadn’t been around kids enough to know if he was good with them. Gods, he hoped he was good with them.

Magnus was still looking at him.

“They all had work to do, so it’s just us for a while.” Barry dropped down into a crouch because it felt weird to talk down to Magnus. “Looks like we have some time on our hands. What do you want to do?”

Magnus tipped his head, looking uncharacteristically shy. “Can… can we play?”

“Play, huh?” They didn’t exactly have any toys on the Starblaster, but Barry could improvise. There was all sorts of stuff lying around in his lab. “Sure, buddy, we can play. Do you wanna go see what toys we can find?”

Magnus brightened. “Yeah! I mean, um, yes please.”

Luckily Magnus was not a picky kid. He was happy to roam around Barry’s lab, ooing and aahing while Barry sifted through all his junk. Did a thousand-piece three-dimensional puzzle of the Starblaster count as a toy? Or was Magnus too young to not swallow the pieces? Probably better to be safe than sorry. He set it carefully in a drawer.

“What’s this?” Magnus called from across the room. Barry glanced around to see him puzzling at a chalk circle drawn on the ground.

“Oh, that’s a summoning circle. I can do all sorts of necromancy with that.”

“Cool!”

Maybe Magnus would enjoy looking at rock samples? Gods, Barry really should have asked someone what age Magnus seemed to be. And what things kids of that age liked doing.

He really had no idea what he was doing.

Magnus made a cooing sound. Barry glanced around to see him lifting a vial of colourful liquid. He shrugged and turned back to his drawers before it hit him.

Oh shit, that was the flesh-eating acid he’d gotten from cycle eight.

Barry lunged across the room and snatched the vial from Magnus’s hands before the kid could pop open the cork.

“No nonono, hey, kiddo, maybe we should do something else? Do you like drawing?”

Magnus, who had flinched at the sudden movement and shouting, paused to peer up Barry.

“Mm hmm.”

“Well,” Barry looked around desperately. Where were his pencils? Could kids at Magnus’s age draw things, or just colour? Did he even have coloured pencils???

Barry’s gaze landed on the set of paints he’d purchased during cycle nineteen, and then at his collection of various animal and humanoid skulls he used as paperweights.

“How do you feel about decorating?”

Magnus took to painting like a duck to water. Barry spread out a couple rags to catch the drips as they smeared paint on skulls and a particularly large femur they’d found under a table. They’d started with brushes but when an overly enthusiastic Magnus dunked his hands straight into the paint, Barry had shrugged and joined him in finger-painting. While decorating each skull they came up with fun stories for the original owners, who they’d been and how they died. Barry had an unreasonable amount of fun doing the voices.

And Lucretia had called his bone collection morbid. Barry chuckled as he watched Magnus happily painting a human skull in bright pinks and yellows. Magnus paused for a moment to consider his handiwork.

“That looks great, Magnus.” Barry encouraged. Magnus turned to him with a beaming smile. There was paint splattered across his face.

“Hey, Bare?”

“Yeah buddy?”

“Where did this one come from?”

Hmm. Maybe the truth was a bit morbid for a kid? Barry really didn’t want to be responsible for traumatizing the little guy. But Magnus didn’t seem upset, so he spoke slowly and carefully, considering each word.

“Well, Magnus, do you know what happens on this ship every year? How everything resets and the people who are hurt get better?”

Magnus nodded.

“It’s like we get new bodies every year. This,” He gestured to the skull, “is a part of one of my old bodies.” He very carefully did not say that it was from the cycle where he’d fallen and impaled himself on a stalagmite, and his final words were asking if they could keep the skull because it’d be pretty fucking cool to have his own skull sitting on his desk. In his defense, it was so cool. The next time Lup died she’d asked to have hers kept too, so they’d have matching couples skulls. Of course, the pair of matching ones sat together on Barry’s desk, not thrown together with the rest. He wasn’t a heathen.

He just had a couple extra Barry skulls lying around in his bone paperweight collection, prime candidates for painting.

“So this is yours?” Magnus asked curiously. He didn’t look like he was about to burst into tears, so Barry nodded.

“Yup.”

“Oh.” Magnus frowned for a moment. “Well, cool.” His eyes widened excitedly. “Is one of mine here?”

“Why, do you want to paint it?”

“Uh huh!”

Hmm. Giving a kid a skull from a dead version of his future self to play with?

…

Yeah, seems fine.

“Sure, just let me find it, I’ve got one somewhere next to the seal bones. Hey, I think I’ve got some glitter back here too if you want it.”

“YES!”

#chapter 2 #taz #the adventure zone #balance #taz balance #fanfiction #my writing #my fic #btab

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maiaisbia · 4 years

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for the drama of it all

Raphael dresses as a shadowhunter for Halloween. Magnus is amused, Alec is not so sure.

My first fill for @shadowhunterbingo! The prompt was: Shadowhunter!Raphael

Gen | Words: 1018 | ao3

Magnus was very excited to host a (little) Halloween party in the loft, the first since he married Alec four years ago. There was a lot to celebrate this year, and what better way than to bring his friends and family together for some spooky fun? Ragnor was back from his (apparently) faked death, Catarina had decided to get a new doctorate so that she had the most current medical knowledge, Dot has taken on the role of High Warlock of Brooklyn, and Alec had cleared and pardoned a whole slew of old downworlder crimes.

Oh, and Magnus had successfully petitioned for downworlder representation in all Clave political matters in Alicante. He had to admit he was rather proud of that one.

Madzie was still young enough that Halloween was one of her favorite holidays. Because of this, Raphael had agreed to come by early and help with the cooking so Magnus could decorate the loft. Ever since Raphael had become a daylighter after receiving an incomplete dose of Heavenly Fire, he’d thrown himself into family life. With all his living family going to be at Magnus’ party, he was very insistent on helping make food. After, Magnus would help him remember those who had passed.

Raphael knocked on the door at noon on the dot, and Magnus welcomed him in and enveloped him in a hug. Raphael didn’t reciprocate, because he was holding a lot of bags. “Thank you for coming!” Pulling back, Magnus looked him over. “Any trouble getting into Alicante?”

“None, no need to send Inquisitor Lightwood-Bane after anyone,” Raphael assured and rolled his eyes at Magnus’ smile and preening at the mention of Alec.

So sue him, he loved his husband. He stepped further back, taking some of the bags from Raphael and leading them into the house. “No costume I see...”

“Don’t worry, it’s in one of the bags,” Raphael put his on the kitchen table and started to unload fresh ingredients. Magnus wasn’t sure what he was making, but knowing Raphael it was going to be amazing. “I couldn’t forget one and have you whip something up last minute. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“But isn’t that much more fun,” Magnus smiled, and set about helping. He’d cleaned the kitchen, made it spotless so that Raphael could do whatever he needed.

Magnus found the bag with the costume in it. Pulling out the contents, Magnus found dark clothes, a leather jacket, and some toy swords. Laying them over a chair, Magnus tried to put together what Raphael was going to be. Once it was all out Magnus had a very good idea what Raphael was going for.

Turned to Raphael, trying to control his laughter, Magnus managed, “You’re not.”

“I am, I’ll need some help with the makeup,” Raphael’s face was carefully neutral, though his lip tipped up to one side.

Magnus gave up and doubled over laughing. When he got control of himself, carefully wiping his eyes to try and not smudge his eyeliner, he looked at Raphael’s small smile. “I can’t wait to see this.”

“I can’t wait until Alec does,” Raphael said, looking down as he lined up the spices he’d need.

Magnus couldn’t disagree with that.

-.-.-.-

Alec came home earlier than he usually did, and Magnus hurried to greet him. Giving him a quick peck on the lips, Magnus led him into the living room, gesturing to the decorations he’d done. “What do you think?”

“Very spooky, I think Madzie will have fun,” Alec had followed after hanging up his coat, wrapping his arms around Magnus’ waist.

“Do you think trick or treating will ever take off in Alicante?” Magnus mused, leaning back against Alec’s strong chest. He was feeling ridiculously warm and happy, though part of him, even now, couldn’t believe that this was real. That he got to be here and do this, to have this family.

“I’d give it a decade or two, we’ll find out,” Alec said with a chuckle.

Magnus turned in Alec’s arms, staying close, resting a hand on the back of his neck. But before Magnus took the opportunity to kiss his husband again, he heard Raphael call, “Magnus, if the guests are starting to arrive I’ll need your help in here.” This was accompanied by footsteps.

Because Magnus was facing Alec, he got to see just what Alec’s reaction was. Feeling Alec tense, his brows drawn down and his eyes turning to a glare, it was almost too comical. Especially when Alec had for the last several years been trying his absolute hardest to befriend Raphael. Right now, he had changed so quickly from happy to viscerally grumpy Magnus started laughing again, resting his head on Alec’s shoulder. One of Alec’s big hands slid up his back, resting between his shoulder blades, keeping Magnus steady as he laughed.

“You like my costume, Lightwood?” Raphael said, his voice teasing.

“Lightwood-Bane,” Alec corrected automatically, and Magnus peaked up at him, before deciding he liked staying cuddled against Alec. He knew what Raphael looked like anyway, they had finished his costume only fifteen minutes before Alec had arrived.

“I helped with the runes,” Magnus said, muffled against Alec’s shoulder. “After all-”

“Don’t say it,” Raphael tried to interrupt.

“-I’ve made a detailed study of them.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Alec’s rumbling laughter followed. He pressed a kiss to Magnus forehead and then released him. Stepping towards Raphael, he pointed to a rune. “Why is the silencing rune on your forehead?”

“For the drama,” Raphael said, the tone of his voice completely flat as he stared back up at Alec.

Alec shook his head and chuckled. Patting Raphael’s shoulder, he headed towards the kitchen. “It smells amazing in here...”

“Don’t you dare try and sample, that’s Madzie’s job,” Raphael followed Alec. Magnus wondered if he’d pick up a wooden spoon to use as a weapon or if he’d make use of one of the plastic swords.

Deciding they could sort themselves out, Magnus went to put on his costume. Maybe, just maybe, he’d get Alec to wear something this year too.

#shadowhunterbingo #raphael santiago #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #my fic #title of this fic in my mind was 'raphael dresses as a cop for halloween'#alec is 'area man trying to get his adult step son to like him'#this fic is one i keep finding issues with after posting RIP

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liw-the-melancholic-apple · 4 years

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How it may have gone - Humble Beginnings

A fic taking place in the marauders era. While the political climate seems to head to a conflict, James, Sirius, Remus and Peter are still just teenagers. Dealing with typical teenage problems.

But this year their little group grows. Who would have known that more prefects would be a good thing?

Masterlist

Nine: A hard night's day II

The common room slowly came to live and I vaguely answered the question as to where I’d been that night a couple of times but mostly ignored what happened around me. Until all four girls stood in front of me and ordered me to breakfast.

“Let me get dressed. I probably look like I feel. I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

“You promise?”

“I’d take an oath.” They left and I went upstairs. Looking at my closet I landed on black Jeans, a black and grey flannel and a black cardigan. I redid my hair into the topbun and put on some make-up after brushing my teeth. Just to cheer me up a bit I popped on my favourite ring.

I didn’t quite make my five minute promise but I got up to the Great Hall as quickly as possible. When I entered, though, I considered turning back around and asking Mimi for that toast and jam she had mentioned. They all sat at our table. Milla next to Remus and Peter, who bumped elbows with Nica. Nica talked to Blair who sat across from her and in between Chloe and James who stole some bacon from Sirius’ plate. Why?

I sighed internally and very slowly walked towards the Hufflepuffs. Maybe if I walked slowly enough they’d be done eating and I could not feel that badly. But since I didn’t move at the speed of a flubberworm, I arrived at the table before Peter had started his second course. I sat down next to Mag and across from Toby, keeping some distance between me and the Potter-posse and Crick.

“Morning, you look terrible!”, Magnus greeted me and won a slap against the shoulder.

“Charming.” He grinned at me and handed me a cup and the pot of coffee. “Thanks.”

I mindlessly grabbed a raisin roll and a chocolate muffin and started plucking them apart without really eating.

Nica waved at me.

“Huh?”

“Ugh, if you’re sure you don’t want to come to Hogwarts and spy on those two lovebirds?”

“I am. Got homework and detention.”

“Right! What d'you get?”

“Caring for the plans in the greenhouses one hour a day. Not too bad, actually.”

“You could do both tonight, you know”, Peter said trying not to spit out his sausage and fried egg.

“Not if I want to sleep at some point.”

“Sleep is for the weak! Live a little, Goods! So what if you don’t have all your homework? Nobody will die from it.” Hoarse voice, cheery tone, friendly, casual, not a trace of hostility. Was he kidding?

“Consider me weak then.” I pushed an enormous piece of muffin in my mouth and nearly suffocated.

“It will be so much fun though, shopping and following them around just the right amount”, Blair tried to change my mind.

“I hope you’ll have much fun. But I’ll sit this one out.”

“You’ve sat everything out, since the year started, Tea!”

“Was I talking to you?”

“No, but since we’re friends again, I reckon I can take an interest in your wellbeing again. You’ve spent five weeks in isolation, Black’s right, you should live a little.”

“Thanks for the input.”

“Have I done something?”

“No Crick, course not, sorry. I snuck off to the kitchens yesterday and fell asleep there, I’m just grumpy. Which is another good reason to stay here, by the way. Get some decent sleep.”

“No changing your mind?”

“None.”

The group went back to loudly planning how to spy on Remus and Milla which had those two groan, roll their eyes and giggle. I stayed out of most conversations and focussed on the destruction of yet another raisin roll. My untouched coffee had gone cold by the time the others got up.

“Coming?”, James held out his hand to help me off the bench.

“Sure”, I sighed and took his hand.

He held me back from the others a bit.

“You should have come with the others last night.”

“I was making up with Crick.”

“Before that I mean. You should’ve come outside with them.”

“To do what exactly?”

“Listen to Sirius explain.” I didn’t answer.

“He did explain all of it. Granted, it took him forever which is way too long, but he did. And I think you should have heard it. Maybe even before the others.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m glad he feels… Forget it. It’s fine.”

We arrived outside and pulled out our cigarettes while Milla and Remus waved and made their way to the village.

“This is going to be great!”, Sirius triumphed.

“It better be. We’d have one hell of a mess on our hands, if it isn’t”, Blair answered.

“Don’t be a spoilsport. It will be great, they will come back coupled up and we won’t have to listen to Remus whine about her anymore.”

“Does he do that?”

“What? No, of course not, never, don’t know why I said that”, he recovered very unconvincingly.

I took a last puff, threw the fag on the ground and went back to the foyer.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, Nica shouted.

“To bed! You are off in a minute anyways, aren’t you?”

“We’re giving them an hour head-start. Come back!”

“I’m knackered Chloe, I’ll have a lie-down.” Spoken and disappeared.

“All is not well with you.” Crick had waited for me.

“I’m really tired. Maybe some other time?”

“If you want to talk, I’m here, yeah? Even if some idiot breaks your heart.”

“Noone did. And I wouldn’t come to you with that. I’m not a sadist.”

“You could, though.” I hugged him a little longer than usual trying to express my gratefulness, appreciation and how bad I still felt, then I left him standing in the foyer and went to bed.

Felix had come up to the dorm and woken me up with a weird expression on his face, informing me that Sirius stood in the corridor waiting for me, bothering everyone who went in or out, asking them to get me for him. Groaning I got up and dressed again. I reckoned that I didn’t have a choice to avoid talking to him. After all I had just accused him of ignoring me for no apparent reason, it would be childish to do the same to him.

Breathing in and out two or three times I stood in the common room before opening the door and stepping onto the corridor.

“Goods, hey.”

“Hi.”

“You seemed…discontent this morning.”

“How late is it?”

“Just about lunch time.”

“Bloody hell, I slept for a while, then”

“Yeah, you did. I’ve been here four hours and most of your hosuemates proper hate me by now. Felix was really annoyed when I asked him to get you.”

“He’s thirteen, he’s always annoyed.” I tried a smile. It felt weird.

“Listen, you want to grab a bite and have a chat? I reckon I owe you one.”

“I’d rather not, Sirius. I’m pretty sure I know all I need to know. It’s fine. Kind of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, yesterday cleared a couple of things up.”

“It did?”

“Yes. Just leave it, yeah?” I turned to either climb back into bed or confront my mountain of homework.

“Goods, I want to talk to you, hold up!”

“You want to talk to me? You want to talk to me? I’ve wanted to talk to you for five bloody weeks. And I’ve tried and sensationally failed, haven’t I? Can’t always get you want.”

I knocked against the barrel.

“Goo…Jette! I’m an idiot, okay? I know. But you deserve a conversation.”

“Damn right! I deserved one first day back from Christmas. Or the day after that. But I didn’t get one. I got death stares and ignorance like I had bloody murdered someone.” I stepped back from the door and lowered my voice again as more and more of my housemates went to lunch.

“I’m sorry”, Sirius hissed. “Which is why I’d like to explain it to you.

“What’s there to explain?”

“All of it!”

“You okay?” Felix and Marvin had just climbed out on the corridor.

“Sure”, I answered.

“You don’t look it.” He turned to Sirius. “She hasn’t had an easy couple of weeks, right? And she’s not good with waking up. Don’t upset her anymore, mate.” He looked into Sirius’ face all earnest and protective and I didn’t think I either ever respected or loved him as much as in that moment.

“I really don’t intend to upset her. I’m trying to apologise and make things right.” What I saw of Sirius’ expression was melancholic.

“You’re a stellar brother, Felix, you know that? She’s lucky to have you.”

“She really is”, I agreed kissing Felix on the cheek and sending him away.

“He’s looking out for you”, Sirius sadly smiled.

“He better be. I’ve done enough of that for him for years. Should’ve seen him in his first year. Lost little idiot.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. Same thing with Reg…” The smile vanished from his face.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. But I am. So, please have lunch with me?” I sighed deeply. I contemplated for a moment. I walked towards the stairs.

“Thanks, Goods. I appreciate it.”

“Hang on! Should you not be in Hogsmeade spying on Remus?”, I suddenly asked when it occurred to me that he had so looked forward to that little mission.

“Oh, the rest are covering that. Thought this was more important.”

We went up in silence, both wondering where this talk would actually leave us. Sirius pulled me to the very empty Gryffindor table. It was the emptiest of all four of them, only first and second years, Sirius and I. My own table next to it was a little more populated. Obviously the snow and cold kept some people form the village. Most Slytherins were apparently battling the weather and most Ravenclaws had decided to stay in.

Staring at the bowls and plates in front of me I realised I still wasn’t hungry although I barely touched my breakfast apart from brutally mutilating it. Unwillingly I piled some salad on my plate and decorated it with a bit of chicken breast. Sirius took half the total amount of chicken wings and drowned them in ketchup. I waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. He thoroughly enjoyed his food and I forced myself to finish mine. When a third of his plate was cleared he looked up from it and turned to his left, facing me. His face was covered in ketchup, he didn’t care or didn’t notice. I handed him a napkin.

“What did you mean when you said that yesterday cleared up things? I mean it might have for the others because they didn’t know what you knew, but what on earth did it clear up for you?”

I bit my lip and hesitated. He jumped his shadow, I should, too.

“The girls said some things, when they wanted to come pick me up to go upstairs that just…made me understand things better. No need for you to repeat it.”

“Come again?”

“They said that you had told them all about it because there was no need to keep it a secret from your friends.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s that, then.”

“What?”

“Well, I took the hint. That’s why I didn’t join you guys.”

“What hint?”

“Are you serious?”

“Always.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. Should’ve known better than to use that word.

“The way they found out is identical to the way I found out. Not asking for it but hearing it anyway. And you tell them all about it because they’re your friends.”

“Right…”

“Well, that told me all I needed to know.”

“I’m clearly missing something. Mind just telling me what you know.”

“Ugh…” I pushed my plate away and rubbed my hand over my face probably messing up my make-up.

“Do I have to?”

“Please. You seem to think that that means more than it does and I’d like to understand that.”

“It’s not that difficult: They are your friends, so you tell them what’s up when they hear about your housing situation. I’m not your friend, so you don’t tell me. I get that. So,I guess I can go?”

I got up and walked outside to the courtyard. Sirius caught up with me at the first of the icy steps.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“What else should I believe? When I found I seized existing for weeks.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“But what. Look, it’s fine, really. I don’t fully understand what I’ve done wrong but nobody can be liked by everybody and you don’t have to be friends with me to be friends with them. You just have to accept my presence. As long as you can do that…”

“Will you shut up?”, Sirius interrupted my babbling. “That is not true. None of that is true, yeah? You are my friend. I took a bloody punch for you. By a guy who’s built like a small mountain troll. I do not do that for people I dislike.”

“But…why… how…what?”

“I would have talked to you last night anyways, Goods. James, Remus and Peter set me straight. They were furious. Don’t ever doubt their friendship; I think they were ready to drop me for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Maybe not dropped me completely. The point is that I’m an idiot and you’re my friend. If you still want to be. Seeing how I’m an idiot…”

“Yeah, I want to be your friend, why d’you think I blew up at you.”

“Fine. Friends. Good Merlin. Thought that was obvious after we rescued you from Cricket…”

“So, did I but then you ignored me…”

“Said I’m sorry, haven’t I? Can you just let me explain?”

“Only if we go back inside, I’m freezing.”

He smiled and led me back into the castle and the prefect lounge. We didn’t talk on the way up. I didn’t know what to say anyways, I was rather confused.

In the lounge Sirius ignited the logs in the fireplace and I found some left over bottles of butterbeer.

“Nice!”

“I’m all ears”, I said after the first sip and gave Sirius my undivided attention.

“Right. Okay. Where do I start?”

“Where did you start yesterday?”

“Answering all the question the girls had”, he laughed.

“I have a question but I don’t know whether I want it answered.”

“Go for it.”

“When I realised you lived with James although your parents are alive and well I kind of assumed they… chased you out of their house. That right?”

“Sort of. I mean, you could say that. Look, I’ll go a bit far back in the story to answer that, yeah? That might be easiest.” I nodded.

“Here we go: My parents are pathetic, vile, racist people who love their so called blood purity and hate everything that isn’t a pureblood wizard or witch. I didn’t get that when I was young and I don’t get it now. And I’ve always let them know that I neither understand nor agree. When I was younger they didn’t make a big deal out of it, kept repeating their credo to me and hoped with all the traditional pureblood education I’d get the hang of it in time.

That changed when I started Hogwarts, got sorted into Gryffindor and befriended James, Peter and Remus. A bloodtraitor and two halfbloods were not who my parents wanted me to spend my time with. When I came home for Christmas they told me they were disappointed and expected me to use my position in Gryffindor House to spy on all those unworthy of magic so they could use that information in the Ministry to get unpure blood banned from Hogwarts. I refused. I told them I liked the blood traitors and halfbloods I knew and stuff like that. That’s when it started.” He paused and took a sip of his drink. He didn’t start talking again.

“The violence?”, I asked in a whisper. Truly, I wanted him to say no.

“Yeah”, he answered just as quiet. He took another sip of his bottle. “At first it was just a well-placed slap across the face and some yelling about how I was not serving my name. But the more they forced their views on me, the more I rebelled against them. Didn’t help that James and his family are normal purebloods who showed me how it could and should be done right. That made me even angrier at their ideals and twisted darkness. So, basically I escalated the rebellion and they escalated the repercussions. Slaps became punches, one became five and then ten and then don’t ask me how many, telling me I wasn’t serving my name turned into calling me a disappointment, a disgrace, a waste of space. You know…”

“I knew I didn’t want an answer to that question.” I felt a lump build in my throat and my eyes water. I usually wasn’t such a cry-baby.

“Oh, it’s no big deal…

“Yeah, it is! How could you even say that? It’s the biggest deal! They are your parents, they’re supposed to protect you and love you and tell you everything’s gonna be alright and be proud of you and support you. They’re not supposed to harm you, Sirius! Or break you down mentally. It is a huge deal.” While I spoke the lump in my throat grew and got audible, my voice cracked a bit. Sirius looked up at the sound of that.

“Woah, no crying! It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright! It’s amazing you’re not some whimp or an elitist arsehole or the worst person ever, fucking miracle that! You deserve so much better! Don’t tell me it’s alright! It’s not. Not even a bit.” By now tears were streaming down my face, clearly alarming Sirius.

“Goods… I don’t know what to do, now. The other girls didn’t cry. What do I do?”

I didn’t answer but leaned over and hugged him tightly. Sobbing like a toddler at the idea of the terror that he’d been through for the past five years. After a moment or two he hugged me back, rubbing my back, going “shhhhh” all the time.

“You know it’s not alright, yeah?”, I asked when I had calmed down enough.

“I know it’s not normal. And I know they’re wrong. But I am alright. Because I’m with the Potters now, and I got a family that actually functions and very good but sobby friends. So, please don’t feel sorry for me.”

“Of course I feel sorry for you!” Sirius let me go and pushed me away, his eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. I was confused. What had I done now?

“I knew it! This is exactly what I told them and they all went ‘no, she’s not like that, she won’t look down on you.’ And I believed it! I don’t need your pity!”

“I don’t pity you”, I forced myself to sound calm and neither shocked nor offended. “I am sorry for you.”

“Same bloody thing!”

“Not at all. You are my friend. I respect you and I care about you. That means I want you to be happy. I want you to be well. I want you to be unharmed. I want you to be as whole as possible. So, when you’re not happy, when you’re not well, when you are harmed, when you’re being broken, I feel sorry for that. Not because I look down on you but because I’m hurt on your account. You honestly think, I’d cry for you if I didn’t respect you? If I didn’t care?” I still forced myself to remain calm but it took all I had.

“You don’t think I’m a pathetic loser?”

“Sirius, why would I?”

“Cause you have such a perfect family. All of you. You all managed to be yourselves and believe in the right thing and make your parents proud. Why would you not think I’m an utter failure?”

“They are the failure! They failed you! And if you think any of us would judge you for what you’ve been through, then we have, too. But not you. Not you.” I closed the distance between us and forced him to look at me by pulling up his face with both my hands.

“You have done nothing wrong. And we all know that. You’ve stood up for what you believe in to terrible and horrifying people and you’ve come out a strong and kind person. We know that and we see that and we respect that, so much. But we still hurt for you. We’re still sorry you had to go through it. You got that?”

“I got that.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” I let go of him and returned to where he’d pushed me.

“Is that why you didn’t talk to me. Because you thought I’d judge you, I’d laugh at you?”

“Honestly, after that speech I’d rather not say…”

“As long as you don’t think it anymore.” He gave me a weak smile.

“Not anymore.”

“Good.”

“Want to hear the rest of it?”

“The rest of it?”

“Like how I ended up at James’.”

“Yes and no.”

“So, my parents had a dinner discussion about werewolves, one night. It was during the summer holidays and there had just been an article in the Prophet about how there is a German organisation that has set up a full-moon-camp for werewolves. If you’re affected you sign up and then they take care of you over the full moon. The idea is for families to not be as affected or whatever. Great initiative. Obviously my parents hated it.

They told each other how it would be a great idea to set the whole camp on fire on a full moon night just to ‘end that pest’. Now, I don’t know what you think of werewolves but I tend to think they shouldn’t be liquidiated for existence.”

“Agreed. Most days they are just normal people and when they turn, they’re not themselves anymore. I’ll be honest: I do not need to run into a werewolf during a full moon. There’s a reason they are classified as one of the most dangerous creatures, but I’m mainly sad for them. The people I mean.”

“Well, my parents would hate you. Even more. Anyways, I told them pretty much what you just said. Which… didn’t fly with them. And because they had spent the entire time I was with them by screaming at me and using me as their personal punching ball – don’t look like that! – they decided I would be given one more chance to return to their noble and ancient ideals. So, they made me. Literally. They made me do what they wanted me to do. Brought in a stray mixed blood dog and had me kick it.”

“When you say made me…”

“Imperius.” I had to find every last bit of strength to not cry again. There was a very good reason that curse was an unforgivable one.

“And when that didn’t have the desired effect they rounded the evening out with a Cruciatus. I was knock-out for about half a day, then I wrote to James and flooed over there. Never looked back.”

“Thank God for Euphemia and Fleamont. I’m glad you’re out of there.”

“So am I.”

We drank up our butterbeers without another word and silently agreed to go back out to the courtyard after a while. Before we opened the door of the prefects’ lounge I hugged him again. Practically buried my face in his neck, one arm around it, one around his waist. I didn’t cry, I didn’t say anything. I just stood there wrapped around him, trying to stop his hands from shaking, which hadn’t been still since he told me about his sorting. I hoped he’d understand what I was trying to convey.

“You smell like something very familiar but I can’t put my finger on it”, Sirius said after half an eternity. Difficult to say if I had succeeded in my mission.

“Coconut”, I answered.

“I like it.”

“Thanks.”

“You can let go now, Jette. I’m good. We’re good.” I let go and smiled at him. He opened the door and we left.

#marauders fanfiction #marauders era #james & peter & remus & sirius #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #peter pettigrew #harry potter #original character

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umbraastaff · 5 years

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Pokemon: Century Version

1.3 - Integration II

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“I can’t belieeeeve,” Taako moans, lying on his back on his bed, head not even up on his pillow. His new eevee is standing on his chest as he pets it.

“I cannot believe!” Lup parrots, pacing up and down the room. Her eevee is playing around with her raichu at the side of the room, darting up and down beside the wall.

“All the damn work we do to keep off the higher-up’s bad side and here they are insulting us. Like we don’t already have teams planned for this mission!”

“God, they’re adorable, though. I hate this.”

“They’re cute as hell.”

“I’m naming this one Gingerbread. You hear that, Gingerbread? You have an adorable name and could get away with crimes.”

Her eevee looks at her and squeaks.

Taako rolls his eyes and looks at the eevee on top of him. “You don’t get a name. You’ve gotta earn it.”

“Just admit you can’t think of a good one,” Lup says.

Taako scoffs. His eevee purrs at him.

“You sure these things aren’t cats, Lulu?”

“I don’t know. Taxonomy’s a bastard.”

The IPRE’s massive greenhouse is a place where the department’s grass-type pokémon frequently roam free, but Davenport finds Merle’s party all gathered around the dwarf.

He approaches the party briskly. Merle and his Ludicolo are leading the rest of his pokémon--along with a few tagalongs Davenport doesn’t recognize--through a dance exercise. Given that most of them are quadrupeds, the dance doesn’t translate very well, but the instructors still cheer the rest along without hesitation.

“I’m glad to see you’re getting your eevee acquainted with the rest of your party.”

“Hey, Skip! Take five, everyone.” The pokémon halt at Merle’s command, except for the ludicolo, who keeps dancing to an unheard tune. “Yeah, it’s goin’ well! Kid’s got moves.”

The eevee climbs up the ludicolo’s arm as it dances, perches on its shoulder, and sings/squeals along to the swaying movements.

“I came to ask about evolving it. Lucretia has asked me to put in a request for an Ice Rock sample, and I want to confirm with you about getting a Moss Rock piece as well.”

Merle squints. “Why?”

“Well, forgive me for presuming, but I thought you might be inclined to evolve it into a leafeon.”

“Oh,” Merle says, but the confusion doesn’t leave his face. “And what’s the Moss Rock got to do with it?”

“That’s…how an eevee evolves into a leafeon, Merle,” Davenport says.

Merle laughs. “An eevee doesn’t need a stone to evolve!”

“It’s not a--”

“Rock, stone--whatever, man! Eevees evolve through exposure. Positive experiences in the greenhouse will get this one to evolve into a leafeon, if it wants to evolve at all. Just like an eevee living by a volcano will grow into a flareon whether you give it a fancy ol’ Fire Stone or not.”

Davenport crosses his arms. “Alright, so no Moss Rock? And you’re sure it’ll evolve before the mission?”

“If it wants to,” Merle says noncommittally.

“Well, that’s good. Let’s not be in the business of forcing anyone to evolve.” Davenport shrugs. “Alright, I won’t keep you from your, er, dance lesson any longer.”

“Wanna join us?”

“Ha. Maybe next time.”

“This is Big Boof,” Magnus tells his new eevee. The arcanine sniffs at the small, new arrival.

The eevee shakes as its face comes close, whining. After a few moments, it falls over altogether.

“Oh no!” Magnus reaches out to help it stand back up. “You’ve got some jellylegs, don’cha.”

The eevee squeaks. Boof sits back when Magnus waves at it, giving them some space.

“D’you mind taking a break? The newbie’s a little nervous--we’ll work up to you!” Magnus says. Big Boof looks disappointed, but it obliges when Magnus holds out a pokéball.

Some time later, there’s banging on the door to the dorm room. It startles Magnus’ rockruff and eevee out of their play, and the eevee almost falls over again.

“Hush!” Magnus shouts as he runs for the door, taking wide steps over the paper scattered in the main room. “You’re scaring the baby!”

He opens the door to Lup. “Oh! Hey.”

“Hi!” Lup says, stepping into the room as soon as Magnus moves out of the way. “How’re things going with your eevee?”

“Better before you nearly knocked the door down! What’s up?”

“Oh, sorry. Is Lucretia here?”

“Nah, she has a late class.”

“Aw, lame.”

“That’s what I said when she was picking out schedules last year! But she says lots of seminars and stuff happen around noon, and she kept missing them ‘cause of class? So…”

“Still.”

“Yeah.”

Lup crosses her arms. “So, you named your eevee yet?”

Magnus leads her past the painted papers and back into his room, where Lassie is still trying to coax the eevee into playing again. “I was thinking Jellylegs? Is that anything?”

“Oh, that’s cute!”

“Right? What about yours?”

“I’m going with Gingerbread.” Lup tosses a pokéball, sending her own eevee out into the fray. Its sibling and the rockruff immediately come over to sniff at it.

“Aww!”

“I know.” Lup says. “Is your rockruff trained not to hurt friends with its neck?” she asks, watching carefully as the three pokémon hop around each other.

“We’re workin’ on it,” Magnus says. “It knows to stop if someone acts hurt, though.”

A knock sounds on the lab door. “It’s unlocked,” Barry calls out, his hand not pausing in its scribbling.

The door creaks open, and Lucretia peers through. “Hello.”

“Oh, hey! One sec, I’ve gotta…” Barry writes increasingly incomprehensible scribbles into his notebook as he tries to speed up, and then drops the pencil with finality. “Sorry, writing, uh, reactions to…” he catches himself before he launches into an explanation. “...Stuff. What’re you, uh, what’s up?”

“I thought it would be good to have my eevee battle another at its own speed. Unfortunately, none of my pokémon are both small and patient enough for that.”

“Ah, so you wanna pit it against its sibling instead?” Barry says mockingly, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, please.” She rolls her eyes. “But yes, I thought it might be good for them.”

“No, yeah, that’s actually a great idea,” Barry says, fishing in his bag for the right pokéball. “You wanna do this now?”

Lucretia holds up her pokéball in affirmation. “Let’s act like it’s a regular battle? So they learn how they’re handled.”

“Sure thing… I choooose…” Barry finally recovers the correct pokéball from his bag and tosses it forward. “Goldilocks!”

“You already named it?”

“Yup. You haven’t?”

“Well, kind of…” she throws her own pokéball. “Eve, come out!”

“That’s gonna be weird when it evolves.”

“I knowwww. But nothing better came to mind, and now it’s stuck.” She raises an eyebrow. “And Goldilocks is going to be just as strange unless you end up with a Jolteon.”

Barry shrugs. “Got me there. Byte, what’s the expected moveset for these guys? Eevees, three weeks old.”

The rotom dex beeps a few times, then says, “Tackle. Growl. Tail Whip.”

They wait a few moments, but it says nothing else. Barry chokes back a laugh. “Arceus. Is this what it’s like when you start a journey?”

“Little more exciting,” Lucretia says with a smirk. “Speaking of, these two are getting antsy.”

The eevees are fidgeting and squeaking at each other, unsure of what to do without orders. But it seems they’ve at least been trained in battle behavior, more or less.

“Hmm,” Barry says. His eevee twists around to look at him. “Well. Growl?”

It lets out a little rumbly sound that might well be a purr. Its opposing sibling’s hair stands on end as though it suddenly grew horns.

“You growl right back,” Lucretia says, and her eevee obliges, making Barry’s step back with trembling hind legs.

Barry stares at them for a few moments, and then he looks at Lucretia, deadpan. “Growl.”

Her eevee reacts just as dramatically as the first time.

“Oh no,” she says. “Oh, you’re not winning this. Growl.”

His eevee staggers to the side, unbalanced by the forced weakness.

“Growl.”

“Growl again.”

“Annnd growl.”

This time, mid-growl, Barry’s eevee sneezes. Lucretia’s jumps nearly two feet in the air and lands with its hackles raised to the sky.

Barry and Lucretia break down laughing. “We can’t,” Lucretia wails. “Oh my god, this battle’s literally never going to end.”

Barry’s voice breaks as he tries to respond, “W-We can just--let’s just call a truce and use Tackle--”

“No, no, we’ve been growling for a minute straight, do you know what growl does--”

“Oh my god,” Barry says, a new wave of laughter coming with the realization. “Holy shit, the attacks are gonna do nothing.”

“Do you ever think about the consequences of your actions, Barry Bluejeans!”

The eevees are chittering and hopping below them, unsure of what’s going on but clearly enjoying the happiness in the room.

“Okay, okay, okay, wait, we can fix this,” Barry wheezes, and he points at his eevee. “Tail whip.”

#the adventure zone #taz balance #pokemon #pokemon century #taz au #mine #my writing #writing isnt comin to me so have something i wrote 90% of months ago #WHO WANTS SOME POKEMON

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Houroubing to Aruba, Chapter 4, (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

(read at AO3)

Chapter 4: You better catch me, bitch!

A loud groan, followed by a curse fills the penthouse and lets Jose know that Brock is up. He finds him sitting in bed, his head between his hands, eyes closed.

“Good morning sunshine!”

“Not so loud!” Another pitiful groan follows. “How are you up already? You had more to drink than me.”

“Puerto Rican alcohol tolerance… and also you old as fuck.” He smirks when Brock glares at him and decides that he should stop gloating and take care of his man instead. “Here, baby, open up,” he tells him and places two ibuprofen in his mouth before he hands him a bottle of water, which Brock empties in one go.

“Fuck, how much did we drink last night? And Marge and Magnus had the same… you think they’re still alive?”

“Met them when I went to get us some breakfast. They looked pretty alive, fresh and in colour to me. Told me to say hi to you and asked if we could repeat the night some time soon while we here.”

“Urgh! God no! I’m only drinking water for the rest of the stay.” Brock lets himself fall back, rolls onto his stomach and closes his eyes again.

“You want some coffee?”

“No.”

“Fruit salad?”

“No.”

“Then have some more water at least. Come on, twinkle toes.” Jose pats his butt lovingly.

“Fine,” Brock sighs, sits back up and accepts another small bottle of water. “What time is it?” he asks when he is done.

“Nearly noon. You should go shower, so we on time for our picnic extravaganza.” Brock makes a whining noise. “Or we can do it another day and you stay in bed?” Jose offers. And it’s his willingness to adjust the plans he was so looking forward to, that makes Brock finally get out of bed.

“No, we’re going. You already showered? Or do you wanna join me?”

“I’m gonna join you, but don’t think I don’t know you just want me with you so I can wash you and you can go on sleeping. I know your lazy ass when you hung over,” Jose teases, but goes ahead into the bathroom, starts the water and gets undressed while Brock makes a pitstop at the toilet before he joins him.

They both quickly brush their teeth before they step into the shower. Brock really feels more dead than alive while the warm water rains down on him. Jose soaps them both up and even washes his hair. “That’s what it gonna be like fifty years from now when I have to take care of you, boo?” There’s laughter in Jose’s voice before he tips Brock’s head back and rinses his hair out.

“Maybe it’ll be me taking care of you, who knows,” Brock replies and takes a towel of the rack. He places it on Jose’s head and rubs gently, then grabs another one and dries his own hair.

“Maybe,” Jose agrees after a while. The fact that Brock can even imagine them still being together so far in the future, old and wrinkly, does weird things to his chest, heart and stomach. He doesn’t burst into tears anymore now, like he did when Brock mentioned maybe getting married some time in the future, but it’s not something that he takes for granted either. Just a year ago this moment, heck even just this vacation together, was so far out of reach he couldn’t have dreamed it up. And now, here they are and Jose quickly pinches himself to make sure he is actually awake.

“What are you doing?” Brock asks him and must have seen it.

“Nothin,” he says quickly.

“Did you just pinch yourself?” Brock takes his arm and when Jose follows his eyes he can see the red mark clearly. “You did! Why?”

“I didn’t!” Jose lies and wraps the towel around his hips. The way Brock looks at him lets him know that he is aware of the lie, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls him close by his hips and kisses him.

“Good morning.” There is a gentle smile on his man’s face when they break apart, his arms stay wrapped around his waist.

“Morning,” Jose replies and puckers his lips a couple of times, asking for more kisses without words. Brock full-fills his wish and the pecks soon turn into a make-out session against the shower wall. “Had to make sure this was real and not a dream, you know, us talking about fifty years from now and all that,” Jose confesses when they stop.

“If your head felt like mine, you’d know it isn’t a dream,” Brock jokes, slaps his butt and steps out of the shower.

“As long as you don’t throw up, we good.”

They get ready as they do most mornings when they are both home. Brock gets dressed in the bedroom, while Jose runs back and forth between bathroom and bedroom, always forgetting something. When they are both finally dressed Jose douses himself in aftershave and cologne, while Brock uses deodorant and forgoes the shaving. Jose trims his stubble, combs his hair back and puts on his hat, after spraying it with even more cologne, while Brock steps outside on the balcony to smoke. By the time they are done it’s time to leave.

Henry hands them a backpack as well as a map, that Jose quickly passes on to Brock. Their way leads them along the beach, past palm trees, other hotels and resorts and a couple of fruit stands. The longer they walk the quieter it gets around them and by the time they reach their destination after about half an hour they are completely alone. They know they found their spot when they find a large, light blue picnic blanket with several pillows on top. A bottle of champagne in a cooler, two glasses and a picnic basket are also waiting for them underneath a divi tree on the beach. A large rock a couple of meters away makes the location secluded, not visible from the pathways and picture-perfect for a romantic picnic.

“One has to give it to Henry, he really knows what he’s doing. He must have prepared all this while we were walking here,” Brock says, takes off his shoes and sits down on the blanket.

“Knew Henry was our man for the job. What’s in there?” Jose asks and peeks into the basket. “Oh wow,” he says and then takes out one plate after another with different salads, fruits, dips, bread and small cakes. He spreads out the feast and checks the backpack they were given. Sure enough plates, cutlery, soft drinks and more can be found in it. Once everything is unpacked, Jose lies back, props his head up on his hand and gets comfortable. “You gonna feed me?” It’s meant as a joke, but Brock simply shrugs.

“What do you want?”

“Can you give me some bread, cheese and fruits?” Brock fills a plate with the requested items, but then continues to actually feed Jose. After a couple of bites they both have to laugh. “This shit sure looks more comfortable on TV.” With these words Jose sits back up and takes his plate from Brock so he can get himself something to eat.

“God, this is so good!” Brock moans once he has tried the food. “I really have to stop at the gym today. With all this delicious food I won’t fit into my costumes anymore otherwise.”

“I might join you, I could use a good work out as well. Otherwise I might lose my new flexibility,” Jose agrees. “But you shouldn’t worry about your weight, Brock. I think overall we both could use a couple of pounds more.”

“You remember my love handles when we first got together. I got so fat.”

“You weren’t fat! You put on happy weight because you were finally eating like a normal person and not skipping meals because of your anxiety. And I liked it. It was cute.” Jose smiles as he remembers the pictures from this time.

“It wasn’t cute.” Brock protests.

“Hey,” Jose asks and places a hand on Brock’s leg so he looks up. “It was cute, you were still hot and I liked it. Just accept it.”

“Fine,” Brock sighs and rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “But you always think I look cute. I could be Silky’s weight and you’d still call me cute.”

“Can you imagine?” Jose grins widely and then giggles. “But it would limit our love life, cause you sure as hell wouldn’t go on top anymore. You’d squash me like those play-doh bugs in the game.”

“Wait until I tell Silky that you just questioned his qualities as a lover.”

“Ho, I didn't…” Jose bristles, then stops. “Ok, maybe I did,” he chuckles and scoots back so his back is resting against the tree trunk. “Silky called me this morning while you were still asleep.” Jose becomes serious.

“Did something happen?” Brock moves closer to him and places a pillow in his lap so he can balance his plate on it.

“Not really. The usual. Complained about some idiots online, talked about all the partying he done and how he got hit on but then went home alone. Got real weird when I told him what a dope time we having.”

“I know I told you before and I know you don’t wanna hear it, but I think Reggie is jealous of you.”

“Why? If he wanna go on vacation he can.”

“Jose, look at it from his perspective. He went on Drag Race with a plan. He wanted to be the next sensation, the next Miss Vanjie. And you know I love him, but it backfired for him, even though Ru loved him. Gigs got canceled, fans were put off by his behaviour. In the end he doesn’t even win the money. And you, you came back, rocked the competition, got booked more than ever and have all these opportunities. And while we fucked it up for a while, in the end the fact still stands that we got each other out of drag race, not matter what else happens. Reggie wants all that: Money, admiration, fame, love. Ok, not necessarily in this order, but, you know. And you have it all."

"But he my best friend, Brock. He always has my back and he was there when you dumped my ass.”

“I don’t say that’s not true, I know he is. But sometimes, like, I don’t know. Sometimes the way he acts around me annoys me.” Brock is done with his plate and places it in the empty picnic basket.

“Like how?” Jose hands him his empty plate as well.

“You remember the stupid fight we had on tour?”

“Still burned into my brain, boo.”

“Before we finally talked when we got back, I talked to Steve, told him what was going on and asked him what I should do. And he, like, told me to accept that I am a control freak and that it will clash with your chaos and that all we could do was talk about it. He told me he’d fly in, if we didn’t resolve it and lock us in or something. He calmed me down and reminded me of all the fun we had on tour and how much we love each other.”

“Aw, I love Steve,” Jose coos and places his hand over his heart.

“I wasn’t there and I don’t know what Reggie said to you, but when I saw him again first time after our fight he basically told me, that, like, I should be grateful that you didn’t dump me, cause he would have done so. He made it sound like it was all my fault. Maybe he was just being shady, but it was all too fresh and I decided not to say anything to him because I didn’t want to fight.”

“He not your biggest fan no more, cause he had to listen to me cry one time too many after we ended. Then again when we were fucking around. He don’t understand why I loved you so much… love you so much, even after all the shit we did. He knows we both fucked up, but he didn’t see you cry. He never seen you, like I see you all the time, cause you always have your guard up when he around. He’s a shady bitch, you a shady bitch and he kinda don’t understand that you not like this with me.”

“You could be right. I never thought about it like that.” Brock contemplates it and lays down, between Jose’s legs, places his head on his chest. “When he’s around we’re usually going out partying or just don’t spend much time together. I don’t think I ever had a really deep talk with him about anything. I tried once or twice, but he was being so extra I just gave up.”

“Want me to talk to him?” Jose wraps his arms around his shoulders and holds him tight.

“I think I’ll try on my own first and if I don’t succeed… yeah. I’d love to be as close with Reggie as you are with Steve.”

“I love Steve,” Jose placed a kiss on Brock’s hair.

“Sorry, boo, he’s taken,” Brock chuckles.

“You such a dumb-ass sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?” Brock asks and strokes his nose over the exposed skin of Jose’s chest, kisses his collar bone, then his neck.

“Mmmh, rest of the time you alright,” Jose smirks before he leans down and seeks out Brock’s mouth with his. The kiss starts slow, but becomes deeper after a couple of minutes. To get more comfortable Jose slides down and rests his head on the pillow, before they continue their make-out session.

“Aren’t you glad right now I’m not heavier,” Brock mutters against his lips, then slips it back into Jose’s mouth before he can reply.

“Don’t care,” Jose says once he’s able to, then pulls Brock back down to him. Their tongues battle as they both breathe heavily. Brock slips one leg between Jose’s and starts moving his hips, grinding down on him, rubbing his growing erection against Jose’s thigh. Jo moves with him, moans loudly and grabs Brock’s ass with both hands so he can pull him even closer.

“God, Jo… fuck,” Brock moans and rips their lips apart to breathe, but doesn’t stop moving his hips.

“Brock… if we don’t stop I’m gonna come in my fuckin’ pants.” Jose replies, equally out of breath and horny as hell.

“Get rid of them then,” Brock orders and slips his own shorts down. They are made of a sweat material, so it’s a lot easier than taking off Jose’s tight jeans shorts. He manages in the end and Jose knows he is absolutely no help, squirming for as much skin contact as he can get. “Fuck, we need to get off this blanket or we’ll ruin it,” Brock remembers just before Jose finds his lips again.

“Shit!” Jose slumps down on the blanket. Then he remembers something and sits up. Quickly he digs through his fanny pack and takes out Brock’s wallet that he has in there. With a triumphant cry he holds up the condoms, throws the wallet down on the blanket. “Put it on,” he tells Brock as he pushes one of the squares in his hand.

“You serious?” Brock sniggers.

“Do I look like I’m joking? You know, neither of us is prepped and even a blow job would be too risky. We won’t go back with cum-stains on us or anything else.” When Brock takes too long Jose takes the condom back, rips the foil open and puts it on Brock himself. Then he lies back down, grabs the front of Brock’s shirt and pulls him back down between his legs, Brock’s arms coming to rest on each side of Jose’s head. This time their crotches touch directly, hard cock sliding against hard cock, the slickness of the condoms helping. They kiss deeply as they grind and rut against one another, Jose’s hands on Brock’s ass dictating the pace.

“Can't… this is not…can’t come like this,” Brock gasps after a while. They are both on the brink, but can’t make it over. And as nice as this is, they are still somehow in public and shouldn’t take unnecessary risk.

Jose slips a hand between them, takes both of their dicks in his hand and holds them closer, starts moving up and down. Bock keeps circling his hips, but it’s still not enough. Jose slips his other hand down as well and Brock has to lift his hips just a tad. He groans at the loss of contact. A second later he groans again, because his balls are being massaged gently. Now it’s enough! It only takes a couple of strokes and they both come; Brock with a gasp and Jose with a loud moan. Then they look at each other and start laughing, can’t believe what they just did.

“We losing it, toes. We can’t behave on a fucking public beach,” Jose states as he takes his condom off, ties it.

“I know. I can’t believe we just did that. We’re turning into horny teenagers.” Brock agrees and takes his condom off as well and places it in a paper napkin, then holds it out for Jose so he can place his there, too.

“We always horny, just not in public.” Jose pulls his shorts back up.

“God, I hope no one saw us.”

“I hope no one filmed us! Maybe this one of these places where some fucker is filming.”

“It would not make for a good porn movie. All one could see is my naked ass moving around and you had your hands there most of the time.”

“Then you better put your shorts back on before someone posts your ding-a-ling anyway.” Both keep laughing as Brock puts his shorts back on. When their eyes meet however they are right back where they started within seconds: Kissing each other silly on the blanket. This time Jose’s on top.

***

A large screen is set up on the beach, lanterns illuminate the huge round beach beds that are set up, one for each couple. Also each couple has a table and drinks are already waiting there for them. When asked both Jose and Brock chose beer, thinking it is a much safer choice than more champagne or cocktails. Brock takes a sip of his beer before he leans back against the cushions and Jose takes his own bottle with him as he snuggles up to his man.

“Have you seen this movie before?” he asks.

“Yes, I have, but way back when it came out. You?” Brock replies.

“Once during a movie night with friends at school, but I didn’t pay too much attention.”

“Too busy making out with your boyfriend?”

“No, girlfriend at the time,” Jose says and presses his lips against Brock’s cheek. “But I like making out with you wayyy more, even though you all scratchy right now.”

“You are not clean shaven either, papi,” Brock points out and Jose just chuckles and then takes a sip of his beer. Henry walks up to the screen, a microphone in hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’d like to welcome you to our weekly movie night under the stars. Today we will show "Notting Hill” staring Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant. I hope you enjoy the movie. Afterwards we all invite you to stay and dance away to the most romantic movie songs of all times. Thank you!“

"Oh, dance night. Think we can stay and watch these straight people get it on on the dance floor?” Jose tilts his head up to look at Brock.

“If you behave during the movie.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he pushes himself up in a sitting position and Brock flinches, because he uses his stomach to do so.

“It means: No indecent yelling when you don’t like something, no insults, no throwing something at the screen, no sucking noises, no kicking of other people’s seats and keep your hands out of my pants,” Brock lists the things Jose has actually done in the past when they were at the movie theater.

“You boring,” Jose huffs and pouts but then has to laugh. He knows he’s done all of the things Brock just listed. He lies back down in Brock’s arms and puckers his lips again to get another kiss before the movie starts.

Jose really does behave this time and even manages to whisper his comments at a volume so only Brock hears him.

Brock surprises him when he quietly mouths along the words of the theme song when the couple on screen kisses for the first time. “All day long I can hear people talking out loud. But when you hold me near you drown out the crowd. Try as they may they can never define what’s being said between your heart and mine. The smile on your face lets me know that you need me.”

“You bet!” Jose whispers back and lets his fingers find the patch of skin that is exposed at the top of Brock’s shirt.

“There’s a truth in your eyes saying you’ll never leave me.”

“Try and get rid of me.”

“The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me wherever I fall.”

“If I can hold your tall ass.” Brock gives him a look that says ‘really?!’

“You say it best,” Jose smiles widely at that, happy about the compliments. This is so romantic. “…when you say nothing at all.” Brock continues and tries to keep a straight face, but fails.

“Asshole!” Jose’s voice can be heard over the movie as he slaps Brock’s chest hard. Brock erupts in a fit of giggles, that Jose and some other people soon join.

***

They stay after the movie is over, because they spot Magnus and Margaret at a table and join them again. Brock tells the story of his hang-over and Jose recounts their day and their picnic trip, but leaves out the dirty details. A make-shift dance-floor has been set up in the sand and some couples sway to whatever cheesy songs the DJ plays for them.

“Oh, I wish I could dance like this.” Margaret gushes and watches the dancing couples enviously when an upbeat Salsa rhythm is played. None of the couples are particularly good and Jose wonders what some of them are even doing. There are only four people who know the correct steps and only two out of those are in rhythm. “I’ve always wanted to learn Salsa, but Magnus here is not a big dancer and also there’s not much of an opportunity where we are from.” Jose exchanges a look with Brock, then gets up from his chair.

“Senorita, may I have this dance?” he bows down in front of the elder woman and holds out his hand with a large smile.

“Oh, darling, really. I can’t dance Salsa.” She is hesitant.

“I’m gonna teach ya. Come on!” He insists and helps her up when she takes his hand. They kick off their shoes before he leads her to the dance floor in the sand. Slowly, he shows her the steps, then leads her through the moves.

“Darling, this is so fast,” she laughs when she stumbles again, but Jose keeps her upright.

“You can also fake it, Mary. Just swing your hips like this and shuffle your feet a bit,” he tells her and shows her how to move her hips the right way.

“Are you a professional dancer?” she laughs when she sees what he’s doing.

“Just Puerto-Rican,” he avoids answering the question directly and twirls her around. When the song ends, he carefully dips her back and they both laugh. Brock and Magnus applaud when they get back to the table.

“Did you see that Magnus? Your old wife knows how to dance Salsa!” Margaret is still out of breath as she sits down beside her husband.

“You looked good out there, papi,” Brock compliments and pecks Jose’s lips when he’s back in his seat.

“Coming from you, twinkle toes, that’s a real ass compliment. ” Jose feels really proud when he hears the praise and also sees it in Brock’s eyes. “He’s a ballerina,” Jose tells their new friends.

“Was… was a ballet dancer,” Brock laughs.

“Your feet are still fucked up, so I get to say "is”.“

"See, I told you,” Margaret tells her husband. “The first time we saw you, I told him that you had to have some ballet training because of the way you carry yourself."

"Nailed it!” Jose exclaims.

“And what do you think he does?” Brock asks curiously and points to Jose.

“Oh, that’s harder… I don’t know. Maybe something in showbiz? You said you’re from L.A. and there’s something about you… Jose, I think you belong on stage. I don’t know, if that really is your job, though or you’re like… an account by day, but you absolutely should be on stage.”

“You good. Real good,” Jose is genuinely impressed by her assessment.

“So you are? Am I right? Are you an actor?”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Brock sniggers.

“Bitch, you doing the same stupid shit as me, so stop laughing,” Jose swats at his chest.

“True,” Brock nods. “You got your phone here?”

“Yeah, need to take some cute ass pics of us. Why?”

“How about we show them? I’m sure you still have those videos of the tour saved.”

“You bet I do,” Jose says with pride, because the videos of him and Brock on stage together during their first tour are his favorite thing ever. He hands his phone to Brock, who unlocks it with his pin, then flips through the videos he has saved and throws him an incredulous look when he realises how many naked pics and videos of him Jose has saved up. Then he chooses a video of the two of them dancing to a Rihanna remix that features both the elegance and sluttiness of Brooke Lynn and the hood style and heart of Vanjie.

Brock moves his chair closer to their the elder couple while Jose gets up and stands behind them, so he can see the video as well.

“Oh my god! That’s you?” Margaret gasps when the camera zooms in on their faces and she realises what she is watching.

“Kind of,” Brock chuckles. “We’re professional drag queens and this is what we do for a living.”

“Unbelievable!” Magnus says. “Are you in Vegas or something? I’ve never seen anything like this!”

“You’re both so beautiful!”

“I used to be in a couple of Vegas shows. We also touring, did some Broadway and West end, TV shows. Brock is a host on a TV show in Canada… we kinda do it all for the money money money.”

“So, you are both dancers, just in women’s clothes. This is so good! Let us know if you ever come to Sweden and we will come and see your show!” Margaret is so enthusiastic about it she is basically vibrating in her chair.

“I think we have a show coming up in Stockholm. I’ll check it later and let you know tomorrow,” Brock promises.

“But if you are both dancers then why are you sitting here with us old folk and aren’t out there dancing?” Magnus asks.

“Dunno if all these straight couples would like us romancing it up on the dance floor,” Jose replies, uncharacteristically shy. He is usually never like this, but he is not home, he knows none of these people and he can’t remember when he was in an all straight environment for days the last time. Surely not since he moved out of his mother’s house at seventeen.

“Oh darling, if they do, just ignore them. Idiots can be found everywhere, even here in paradise,” Margaret turns around and pats his arm.

“You know what, Margaret is right,” Brock decides and gets up. “You wanna dance?” he asks Jose just as a new song comes on.

“Really?” Jose’s eyes widen.

“Really. Let’s go dance.”

“We’ve never danced together like this,” Jose says as they make their way to the beach dance-floor.

“Then that’s a good time for it. Question only is, if you gonna let me lead,” Brock smirks. He wraps his arms around Jose’s waist, while Jose’s wrap around his neck, his head resting on his shoulder and they start to sway to the song.

“J.Lo played this. It’s Maid in Manhattan.”

“What?” Brock doesn’t understand what he is taking about.

“The song, 'Fall again’ is from the movie 'Maid in Manhattan’ and J.Lo plays the lead.”

“You’re right. I love the movie. The kid is so cute.”

“And Ralph Fines is kinda hot in it.”

“Urgh… he can’t be hot in anything. He is Voldemort,” Brock scrunches up his face and Jose guffaws, then hides his face in Brock’s shoulder again.

“You can’t turn away, the past is said and done. I need us to carry on,” Jose mouths along with the words, the words spoken against Brock’s neck. When Jose looks up and smiles, he gets lost in Brock’s eyes and kisses him while they keep dancing.

They break apart with laughter when the next song starts and they both recognise it, like almost all other couples. Strangely most men flee the dance floor, while the women rush over to dance, singing along with the famous song.

“Can you do it?” Jose asks Brock mischievously and of course Brock knows what he’s talking about.

“Sure, we did similar stuff on tour all the time. And if we fall, at least it’s sand and not a hard stage floor,” Brock agrees.

“Let’s show these straight people how you do it,” Jose exclaims excitedly and they start re-enacting the choreography of Dirty Dancing’s 'Time of my life’- at least the parts they remember.

At first no one really takes notice of what they are doing. They scream the lyrics along with the rest of the people, goof off by twirling each other around and give each other exaggerated longing looks, before having a giggle fit. Then however Brock lifts Jose up and twirls him, just like in the movie and a circle forms around them. Aware of the audience they get a bit more serious about what they are doing and start the show for real.

“There’s no stage to jump off,” Brock laughs when he remembers what’s next.

“You can do it,” Jose laughs and watches when Brock jumps up and does the triple tour barefoot, in his shorts and T-shirt. The crows cheers when he lands. “That’s my ballerina!” Jose yells with glee and winks at Margaret and Magnus, who have joined the crowd watching them. Jose dances over to them and dances with Margaret again, while Brock dances with a couple of other women, until their eyes catch when they know the big moment is coming.

“You ready?” Brock yells over to him.

“You better catch me, bitch!” Jose yells back before he starts running, jumps and Brock holds him over his head in the iconic pose of the movie. “Yes! I’m flying!” Jo screams over the applause of the spectators. Brock nearly drops him because he starts laughing so hard. He manages to get him down safely and they exchange a couple of kisses between laughter and then simply goof around some more for the rest of the song.

When it ends and they leave the dance floor with Margaret and Magnus and walk back over to their table, they get stopped a couple of times and are complimented and praised and even get friendly pats on the backs from their volleyball buddies.

“Here,” Magnus says when they sit back down and hands Jose his cell phone. “I don’t know much, but I know you don’t need to unlock the phone to take pictures and videos. I hope I got it all.”

“You filmed our dance?” Brock exclaims happily, excited that they have this moment on camera.

“I hope so.” Jose checks his phone and clicks through the video. It’s all there. The whole dance.

“Magnus, I could kiss ya!” Magnus only taps his right cheek with one finger and Jose places a loud smooch on it. Then he watches the whole video, keeps replaying it and shows his favorite parts to Brock. “Hey, Brock?”

“Yes, Jose, you can upload the video on instagram with whatever crazy caption you’ve come up with. Don’t forget to tag me.”

“How did you…?” Jose is speechless.

“I know you, papi.” Brock chuckles and kisses him softly.

Ten minutes later two clips of the video are uploaded to Jose’s instagram account. Caption says: Miss Vanjie, Miss Brooke Lynn, Do a spin, do a dip, just jump on the dick. #nobodyputmytwinkletoesinthecorner #dirtydancingdonetheVanjieway #Brocktakin'metonewHytes

TBC

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #fluff #smut #drama #canon compliant #houroubing to aruba #blackhighheels

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consul-lightwood-bane · 5 years

Text

Nightmare from Hell.

Partially inspired by this post by @katy-l-wood

~Magnus had fallen asleep singing to Max in the nursery on the rocking chair. The toddler was sleeping contently on his chest with a blue hand in his mouth sucking on a thumb.~

“Your soul is mine Magnus and only mine.”

“Your Shadowhunter will perish by my hand.”

“You’re my Eldest Curse. My greatest accomplishment.”

~ Magnus went rigid as the poisonous words of his father and the dark, bloodied images of Edom plagued Magnus’ mind. He was experiencing yet another nightmare about being back in the hell dimension he so loathed even thinking about. Beads of sweat tricked from the side of his head and he began breathing in and out fast, unable to catch his breath.~

~This woke the baby in his arms who too was rising and falling with the uneven rhythm of his fathers’ chest. The tiny two year old unable to make any sense of the disturbance, started crying and his tiny blue fist grasped the fabric of Magnus’ t-shirt.~

...

~A bony clawlike hand was clutching the front of Magnus’ silk shirt as he found himself dragged to the floor in the ruined throne room of Edom. His father’s dimension. The clawed hand had belonged to his father who had now moved to sit on the rust colored throne leaving Magnus on the floor. He looked exactly as Magnus’ remembered him in a distant time in Rome, with the barbed wire crown and the impeccably tailored white suit.~

“Father.”

“Hello Magnus.”

“I’m dreaming aren’t I ? I can’t imagine you’d missed me too much to summon me to Edom in the middle of the night.”

“Well it can be whatever you believe it to be. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Oh really? That’s wonderful, it means I’ve definitely done something right! Thank you for the compliment.”

“You don’t understand do you Magnus? You’re wasting away your powers on trivial pursuits.”

“No I don’t understand you. And I don’t want to. Now if we are done I’d like to go to bed. I need my beauty sleep.”

“You can try to mask your fear and insecurity behind that wit of yours. But you can’t fool everyone. I can see through that façade of yours. Stop denying your purpose Magnus. You were born to for greater things, to annihilate this land. The one that those stupid Nephilim strive to protect. You’re the son of a Prince of Hell!! A curse to this world. My eldest curse.”

“No thank you. The only thing I’m cursed with is amazing good looks and an excellent sense of fashion. Besides I’ve had enough curses for at least 3 centuries. I’m just content with being the High Warlock of Brooklyn and being with my family.”

“A family you say Magnus? You mean that shadowhunter and the blue horned warlock baby whose own mother tossed him aside? Stop kidding yourself son. I’m your only true family. It’s about time you came to accept that and if not I have other ways to make you do so.”

~Asmodeus waved his hand and suddenly Max appeared at the foot of his throne with a dinosaur plushie in one hand and the other holding on to a fuzzy orange blanket that he always took with him. As soon as he saw Magnus, his face broke into a toothy smile and he waved at him.~

“Papa! Papa!”

~Magnus tried to rush forward to take his son far from this place and shield him from the influence of his father but he found something blocking his path. An invisible wall had emerged, and it stood between him and the throne. He had tried to summon his magic to break through but came up empty-handed. As if his magic had disappeared, gone.~

“Your magic won’t work here. This is my realm. This is where your powers comes from and I can control them. I can give them back to you if you agree to swear your loyalty to me. They are mine, until you decide to embrace your true nature and make an oath to stand by me.”

“Dad no. How dare you try to bring Max here? He has nothing to do with this. Leave him alone. He’s just a kid. My kid.”

~Asmodeus bent down and picked Max up in his arms, the little warlock wriggling to get away from his hold.~

“Is this what has made you weak? Is this why you’ve gone so soft and mellow? Emotions are nothing but a distraction son. They make you pathetic. But let’s see how far you are willing to go because of them? How much you are willing to put at stake for this child of yours? Perhaps your soul even?”

~A shiver went down Magnus’s spine as he watched his father wave his hand, a red ball of fire-like magic appearing there. He then thrust it to Max’s chest causing the kid to cry out in pain.~

“No, no please don’t hurt him, please! I beg of you, do whatever you want to me but leave Max alone.”

~Max’s cries were getting louder and every cell of Magnus was screaming to hug his son and heal him.~

“Papa, it hurts Papa, make it stop, Papa!”

“Shhh my blueberry, it’s okay, it’ll be all okay. Papa will make it all better I promise. I’m sorry baby.”

~Magnus turned with pleading eyes to look at his father, feeling powerless and small.~

“I beg of you, stop it now and I’ll do everything you want me to. I’ll stay by you and be loyal to you. For Lilith’s sake just stop hurting my son.”

~Asmodeus drew back his hand and Magnus sighed in relief as he saw that Max was not in pain anymore.~

“Tsk tsk your humanity has always been the “Bane” of you Magnus. It’s always been your weakness. But I can’t let you get off so easily. You still have to pay the price for ignoring me and defying me all these centuries.”

~And with this the Prince of Hell’s magic grew even darker, more crimson. He snapped his fingers and Max suddenly went limp in his arms, his eyes going black.~

“MAAAAAXX!”

....

~Alec had had a long day of patrolling and wanted nothing more than to just get into bed with Magnus and sleep until it was noon. He had just crossed the threshold of their loft when the cries of his son and the heart wrenching shriek of his boyfriend calling out their son’s name, filled the otherwise quiet apartment. He quickly unsheathed his seraph blade, activating it and made a dash to the nursery, preparing for the worst.~

~What he found was his son wailing and wiggling around in the arms of Magnus. Magnus himself, though still asleep, was shaking badly ; with tears and sweat covering his entire face. He was breathing quite ruggedly and muttering “Max no, no, please, no, this can’t be happening” under his breath. The sight broke Alec’s heart. Magnus was having a nightmare.~

~Out of habit, he still scanned the two of them for any signs of injury and upon not finding any decided to calm Max down first. The poor kid was turning purple from crying too hard. He tried to delicately take Max from Magnus arms but found that Magnus only clutched him harder to his chest.~

“No please don’t take him away.”

“Magnus, it’s me Alec, open your eyes darling.”

~After a few more minutes of gentle coaxing, Magnus’s eyes finally fluttered upon and he tried to get up in a state of panic. He would’ve stumbled out of the chair along with Max had it not been for Alec’s strong grip on his shoulders.~

“Alexander, Alexander! My father he-he took Max ..and he tried, tried to hurt Max and then he did something to him and I didn’t have my magic and I couldn’t help him. We have to go Alexander, my father has Max. He has our son!”

“Calm down love. It was just a dream I swear. Max is okay and look he’s in your arms, safe. Though he’s cried himself hoarse and is probably scared.”

~Magnus peered down at the bundle in his arms where a pair of tear-filled blue eyes were blinking up at him and relief washed over him.~

“Oh baby, oh my Bluebell. I’m so glad you are safe. I’m so sorry I scared you baby. Papa is not going to let anything happen to you my love.”

~He picked Max from his chest holding his curly blue-haired head on his shoulders and rubbing soothing circles on his back. Max’s cries had now turned into sniffles and as exhaustion took over him he started to fall back to sleep.~

~After a while he was laying in his crib, cuddling with the Chairman while Alec had taken Magnus to their bedroom only after the warlock put up no less than 7 layers of powerful wards all around the nursery.~

“Magnus are you okay? I can imagine that must have been awful and you’ve not had one that bad in a while.”

“It was torture Alexander. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced so much pain and fear in my entire life. And it all felt so real.”

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. But it was not real no matter how much it must have felt like. We will never let your father come anywhere near Max, ever. He’s will have to go through the entire Lightwood family and our friends if he even tries to do so. I promise.”

“You’re right. I won’t let my father poison our life anymore. If he even dares to touch a single hair on our son’s head I’m gonna kill him.”

~Alec embraced Magnus as he dropped a kiss on his head and held him closer. Magnus too put his arms around the shadowhunter, resting his hand on the lower part of his back, tracing a warlock protection rune. Neither of them went back to sleep that night, just staying like that. Alec lay awake filled with a mixture of rage at Magnus’ father, and a determination to do whatever it takes to protect his family. Magnus lay awake still reeling from that moment of helplessness, and a fear of what the future had in store for him and all that he held dear.~

.....

#i've had this in my mind for a while #nd that post kinda gave me inspiration #i'm so sorry if it's too sad or angsty #you are then welcome to join the club #but i'm happy with this #i had to write this twice because tumblr ate it the first time #alec lightwood #magnus bane #max lightwood-bane #asmodeus #tsc #tec #fics #lyric wrote a thing #lyric's writing #i can't figure out the tags

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murfeelee · 5 years

Text

Spell an OC’s Name: Malec

Back with another SPELL A MUSE’S NAME IN MY ASK BOX AND I’LL TELL YOU post! I had a lot of fun with the Nagron version, and decided to do one for Malec, too. ^_^

______________________________________________________________

MAGNUS BANE

M: When’s the last time they talked to their mom? She died when he was a child. The less said on that subject the better. O_O

A: Who are their exes? Do they still keep in touch? Magnus has a LONG list of exes, seeing how he’s over 400 years old. Most of them have passed away from old age. The only exes still around are the vampire Camille Belcourt (regrettably) and fellow warlock Dorothea “Dot” Rollins, who is still a close friend of Magnus’. (TOO close, if you ask me. I see you, wench. >_>)

G: What was their first job? According to Magnus, he was a pirate back in the 1600′s. So he had to have been fairly young? Who knows.

N: Are they clumsy and/or prone to accidents? Magnus is beauty, Magnus is grace. Magnus has the perfect face.

U: Would they rather be single or in a relationship? Magnus is a hopeless romantic. All he ever wanted was to find that special someone. After 400 years Magnus finally found him. (Excuse me while I go rewatch Malec’s Wedding and cry.)

S: How do they tell someone they’re sorry? With sincerity and humility.

B: Who is the last person they shared a bed with? Alec, of course!

A: Who are their exes? Do they still keep in touch?

N: Are they clumsy and/or prone to accidents?

E: Are they the happiest they’ve ever been? YES.

______________________________________________________________

ALEXANDER LIGHTWOOD

A: Who are their exes? Do they still keep in touch? Alec’s the lucky bum who'd never dated or kissed or had sex or anything before meeting the love of his life on the very first try. Jerk.

L: How often do they post on their social media accounts? “Magnus! How do I log on to this Instant-Chatbook thing again?!”

E: Are they the happiest they’ve ever been? YES.

X: What’s a song that is always stuck in their head? Probably the entire Ruelle discography. And the most iconic of them all:

youtube

A: Who are their exes? Do they still keep in touch?

N: Are they clumsy and/or prone to accidents? Only when it’s accidentally on purpose. Alec hates being the distraction on missions. Frikkin embarrassing.

D: What time does their day usual start? Probably noon, or late afternoon, if he’s going on patrol from sundown to sunup. Alec is NOT a morning person.

E: Are they the happiest they’ve ever been?

R: When’s the last time they had a birthday party? Alec’s not big on parties AT ALL, but he’s always touched when Magnus insists on doing something special, sweet and small for him. But Malec goes all out for their kids’ birthdays. And Magnus’. And Chairman Meow’s. That’s MORE than enough socializing for Alec, thanks.

L: How often do they post on their social media accounts?

I: In general, are they organized or messy? Alec’s the neat one in the Lightwood-Bane family. Magnus is the one always tossing stuff around all over the loft (he’s worse than the kids! XD ). Thank goodness Magnus has magic. :P

G: What was their first job? Once a Shadowhunter, always a Shadowhunter. Even now, with Alec sitting pretty on that epic promotion as the frikkin Inquisitor of Alicante, baby! Consul’s next, and then? THE WORLD! ^0^

H: Who texts/calls them the most? Izzy, definitely. Then Simon (Alec has no idea why). He wishes they’d BOTH stop.

T: How quick are they to cry? Alec’s one tough nut to crack. Even at his most distraught you can barely get one teardrop out of the man. (Trust me. Season 3B tried. Matt wasn’t going down without a fight. XD)

W: Would they be starstruck if they met a celebrity? Magnus Bane is the only celebrity who’s ever mattered to Alec. And you see how that introduction went. :P #GayPanic #GayDisaster #ChaoticGay

O: How much have they changed in the past five years? His hair’s out of control, but at least he’s still pretty. He smiles a LOT more than he ever has in his entire life. Alec’s confident now, out and proud, with a joyous and fruitful life he’s built with his husband, his children, his job, and his relatives. What a 180. #GayIcon.

O: How much have they changed in the past five years?

D: What time does their day usual start?

______________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

#questionnaire #malec #saveshadowhunters #pickupshadowhunters #non-sims #nonsims

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axelsagewrites · 5 years

Text

Magnus Bane*No Tea Tonight PT3

Magnus has had many past lovers. Some subcum to age, some to tradgedy, and some to fights. (Y/N) however was lost, literalley. After going missing on a shadowhunter mission their was no answers. Not till the case was reopened by the Lightwood siblings who were in over there heads.

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

Magnus Bane X Warlock!Reader

Part one Part two

Magnus awoke already annoyed. He didn’t know what at but either way he was giving Chairman Meow the side-eye as he drank his coffee. “Must you meow so loud?” He snapped at one single meow from the cat. Chairman seemed to stare into his soul before he meows again, as loud as a cat possibly could. The warlock rolled his eyes and focused his attention on Brooklyn’s skyline. A nice, penthouse, flat that he didn’t even have to worry about the rent on. Antique furniture’s and artifacts dating back farther than the ones in the museums, and better qualities. A city, world even, of Downworlders who respected him and lusted after him. How could he complain? Magnus mulled these thoughts over in his head. On paper his life was perfect. He was even immortal. If anything, that was a curse. Once his immortality sunk into his mind he realized something awful; he would always outlive who he loved. His family and childhood friends aged and died around him. New friends were there for a blink of an eye. He hadn’t been able to stay anywhere long. They’d realize he hadn’t aged, or he’d be forced to watch them suffer that fate. The few immortals he met were the only ones he wouldn’t lose to age. Vampires and warlocks who hardened over time as they felt the pain of every generation. Every tragedy. Every death. It was hell. No one lives as long as him without a tragedy and after so many, it’s hard to smile. The immortal friends he did make were…quirky. Ragnar tested his patients at every moment, Cat was always busy and like a proper adult, and Tessa kept getting hung up on immortals. But they were friends, family even. Its why he clung so long to Camille. She didn’t age, she wouldn’t get stolen by time. He dealt with someone so toxic because at least she was there. Then there was (Y/N). when they met they never said what they were? Not all Downworlders are obvious, werewolves hide scars, vampires are seen in nightclubs, Seelie’s learn to talk mundane, and warlocks use glamours. (Y/N) could’ve been a mundane with a sight for all he knew. Even still, not knowing how long they would have, Magnus fell for (Y/N). they’d met through Ragnar but were nothing alike. It was a ball, drinks were flowing, music was playing, and peoples sins hide in the corner. (Y/N) wasn’t drinking Magnus noticed. Only wetting their lips with the wine. So, he called her out. “You learn so much more when they think you know so little.” Was all they said, smirking then walking out into the gardens. Magnus followed. “What do you want to learn?” he asked. “Nothing. Everything. Doesn’t matter,” they shrugged, not slowing their pace for the warlock, “It’s like a collection. Some are prized others are left dusty. Did you know the Duchess of Versailles was the mistress of Lady Manda?” Magnus raised an eyebrow, “On its own, it doesn’t matter. Unless you also know Lady Manda’s husband Lord Gordon was trying to create a trade with the prince of Austria who has a feud with the Duke over their son’s affair together.” “How do you know all that?” Magnus asked, stopping his walk as (Y/N) stopped to sniff the roses. “Simple, I’m nothing. My stations not high enough to care, not low enough to look down on. My money's not known to them and around here I’m known to have a drink. When I drink, they drink. When they drink, I listen.” (Y/N) plucked a rose, putting it Magnus’s top pocket, “If I was you, I’d start buying grain from the Duke. The prince has his favor,” “What about the king?” “You won’t have to ask that for long,” (Y/N) said, walking away. Magnus didn’t follow. The advised paid off. Few bought gains from the duke so when tables turned Magnus’s fortunes doubled but (Y/N) was gone. It wasn’t till Venice, a decade late, that he saw (Y/N) again. He’d asked around about (Y/N) but no one seemed to know. No one seemed to care. There was a portrait hung in a restaurant he was in. (Y/N) was in a gondola, rowing across the river. Relaxed, composed, young. It could’ve been painted 10 years ago or 10 days ago. The chances of (Y/N) still being in Venice was slim to none. But he saw them, for a moment. It was a moment enough to convince him to follow. Pushing through crowds, Magnus looked for (Y/N) among the faces. Eventually, he ended up in an alley with no people. The beauty of Venice didn’t exist in this alley. Magnus sighed, about to leave, when “You look good for your age,” “Where are you?” Magnus turned back and saw nothing. He looked up though and saw (Y/N) sitting on the window sill of a building. It was run down and probably closed. “Why are you up there?” “How have you been?” (Y/N) smirked, ignoring the question. “Longs it been? 8 years?” “10. And it wasn’t really a meeting,” (Y/N) shrugged, “Well I wasn’t really sure. You were an uncertain choice. After that vampire’s choice words, I figured I’d let the wind settle before I tried to see where it would blow,” Vampire? Magnus thought, “Camille,” he sighed. “That’s the one. Fewer enemies fewer problems. How is the bitch?” Magnus laughed, “Not friends I see?” “Does that one have friends?” “Not anymore,” “Good for you,” (Y/N) said. They looked over their shoulder before grabbing something and tossing it out the window. A rope swung from the window, almost touching the ground, “Coming in?” It was dangerous. A rouge from what he knew. A run-down Venice building. He wasn’t stupid. But yet Magnus tested the strength of the rope. (Y/N) smirked and it spurred him on. Magnus took hold and began trying to scale the building. Trying because he hadn’t done this since an intense game of truth or dare in the 1700s when windows were lower to the ground. Still, he managed to climb in with catlike ease. “Glad you could join us,” the stranger said. The room was dark, only a couple of candles on a rickety table. (Y/N) handed one to the warlock. “Come on,” (Y/N) smiled a smile. Without a candle or light (Y/N) was able to lead the warlock. (Y/N) was faster though so grabbed his hand lightly to guide him faster. There wasn’t even a door in the doorframe to stop them. Down a wooden staircase with a missing banister, they arrived on a stage. Magnus squinted to see. There were other candles giving off a small light like a star at the start of a night. Looking closer Magnus saw the bodies by the flames. “You’re a warlock right?” (Y/N) asked. Magnus was hesitant to nod. “So’s Gino. Gino!” (Y/N) yelled. A light moved and as it approached Magnus saw the 14-year-old boy with scales covering part of his face, “Yes (Y/N)?” “Another warlock. Like you and Caleb. Magnus, Gino. Gino, Magnus,” “Nice to meet you, mister,” He held out his hand eagerly. Magnus shook it but was looking around the room confused. “What is this place?” “il santuario dal sole,” Gino said. “It was for vampires at first but (Y/N) took us all. il nostro custode” He grinned. Magnus raised an eyebrow, “What are you?” he asked. “What are any of us?” Gino scoffed, “You spend too much time with the fae. (Y/N)’s like us,” The three warlocks stood in silence. “Gino,” (Y/N) broke it. “It’s dinner times. Go get the wine,” Gino nodded, running off without the candle even flickering. Magic, Magnus realized, “You’re welcome to stay,” (Y/N) went to walk away but he caught her wrist. “What is this place? Really?” With a sigh (Y/N) looked over the room. There were at least 16 candles some with multiple people around them, “Home. For too many of us. Venice was a chance for us, but chances die hard. And we got trapped. Money got tight. And now we sleep in an abandoned theatre.” “You used to-“ “-Have status? Money?” (Y/N) cut him off. “Like I said. Chances die hard. I took the wrong one. The money I have goes to bribery and candles. The food is stolen. The wine is stolen. Their futures are stolen. So, we feast on others bread and wine,” This time (Y/N) did walk away. The next morning Magnus was gone and the Downworlders were awoken with the flood of light. The curtains had been opened. “They're here!” someone yelled. All the Downworlders began to run, panicking. The quickest exit was through the stage but there was a man on it. “This place could do with a bit of a clean,” Magnus said, looking over the theatre. “What are you doing here?” (Y/N) asked, walking onto the stage. “I bought this place,” “You’re evicting us,” (Y/N) crossed their arms. “Not quite,” Magnus pulled paper from his pocket. “The deed to this place. All paid for. The food will be delivered at noon. Though I might organize a decorator,” (Y/N) took the deed Magnus held out to them, “Your giving us this place? Why?” “Some chances pay off,” What he did was incredibly stupid. Completely idiotic. But Magnus had money and too much of it. upon reflection, he saw himself as a bit of a Gatsby. Everything to do with (Y/N) was a chance. Their meeting, the theatre, their first kiss when neither knew what the other thought. Everything. It was nearly always a good outcome and the bad ones were only so bad. But now Magnus felt what (Y/N) had in that run-down theatre. But worse. “Chances die hard,” Magnus murmured into his coffee cup.

When the shadowhunters got no call from Magnus they weren’t surprised. They had other cases, other missions, but Isabelle made it a point that they’d meet to discuss (Y/N). or as the clave saw it, the K7238 file. “We either look into people or location. Both too much of a stretch of clave resources. They’ll want to know why we're so invested and take over the case,” Isabelle said. She’d took the head on the case and sat at the top of the table. “But won't they have more resources?” Clary asked. The rest laughed. “The clave doesn’t exactly, how to say, care about Downworlders,” Jace said as gently as he could. Alec rolled his eyes. not only should she have realized this, but Jace also shouldn’t sugar coat it, “People would be better. theirs too many locations and witnesses won’t remember by now.” Isabelle nodded, “Okay so we’ve got ‘horns’,” as Jace put it suspects are more fun with nicknames, “And a bunch of Randoms. No ones come up in the system for purple skin and horns though,” “A demon?” Jace suggested. “Maybe,” Isabelle sighed, “It’s like we're missing something. Why would (Y/N) be with a demon?” “Kidnap?” “Spell?” “Secretly evil?” “Anyone got any other ideas?” Isabelle asked. The table was silent. “Maybe (Y/N) wanted a fresh start,” Clary suggested. “Without Magnus?” Alec rolled his eyes, “Did you see how Magnus was?” “But what about how (Y/N) was?” She pressed, “Maybe they wanted out. Or maybe this guy convinced them. Like a friend. I know if Simon had to get away I’d be the first to follow,” “So maybe this guy's also a victim?” Jace asked. “Yeah. Maybe someone on the case ran them out. If shadowhunters do hate Downworlders,” “We don’t,” Alec butted in, “Not all of us,” Isabelle stood up and walked over to the makeshift board she’d made on her wall for the case. It was inspired by the ones in movies Simon watched and was surprisingly useful. “Okay, so we look at the shadowhunters on the case. We’ve got Jadehurst, Cadleact, and Wasper. None are too fond of Downworlders,” “In fairness, not many were back then,” Jace said. “True. But they're not exactly going to talk to us,” Isabelle said as she wrote their names under suspects. Clary went to speak but Alec glared. Jace glared at Alec, “Go ahead Clary,” “Couldn’t we just ask about the original case. Say paperwork got lost and we need to fill in some blanks,” They thought about it, “That would…work. Yeah, good one Clary,” Isabelle said. Alec sulked, “Okay so tomorrow Clary and Jace go talk to as many of them as you can. They're all currently in Idris so that’s not to bad. Alec, you’ll go to Magnus. Check on him and that but you need to find out more about (Y/N). friends, history, enemies. That sort of stuff,” All nodded at their tasks, “What about you?” Jace asked, “Day off?” Isabelle kissed her teeth and put her hands on her hips, “I will be going through the photos and back search all the people to see if they're on file,” “Did that search on Marvin’s books come back yet?” Jace asked. “Tomorrow. Probably by around noon. Everyone clear on tomorrow?” they nodded. “Great. Now get out. Simon loaned me his laptop and Netflix so don’t disturb me,”

Part four

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