just had my blood drawn for some tests and they took a lot more than i expected and now i feel kinda wooogonna lie down

nah it’s not that bad, tho i guess just the combo of me having not slept too well + havent eaten for a long time + blood drawing so i will rather… lie down and also stuff my face i guess haha

For potato-vagina: You said “or”, so how about both?

Soft wind blew against the abandoned street, nature’s lover with the gentle caress. It was nearly dusk, and fallen leaves were lying in scattered piles of their own, tired from the tousling by the playful autumn air.
A window overlooking in silence was curtained, magically, by a man possessing such magical abilities.
Correction, Alec amended himself —
His man.

The loft was, for a lack of a better word, very romantic.
A hundred candles, short and tall, were ignited around the open space, their colour white as the first fallen snow. They were scented with the fresh smell of pine cones, and their warm yellow glow painted the darkened room into a mosaic of dreams and fantasy.
Against this backdrop was a four-legged wooden table, on which a cloth of rich blue velvet laid bare, draping down like the hair of goddesses in great works of art. A candle black as the midnight sky stood in the middle of the table, its glow red as the ominous moon, lighting up the shadowed floor.
Polished silverware was placed on two opposite sides of the table, then next to each other, then apart again, as the warlock struggled between the notion of beauty and the need to stay close to Alec.
In the absence of talk was the melody of the Winter Sonata, gently reverberating around the room, completing the allusion of romance.
Alec wasn’t sure what was funnier, the fact that there was a floating turkey in the air, or that Magnus was drunk.
Came to think of it, Alec had never seen a drunk Magnus before. The warlock had always been an entity of the utmost self control (on matters other than Alec himself, he must add, even with a blushing face), and in comparison to Alec, his capacity for wine was tremendous. And surely his 410 years of life had taught him a thing or two about drinking habits, right?
Well, apparently not.
The man in question was now prancing around the house, a blue flame ignited upon his fingertips, conjuring up the finest oddities from thin air.

Alec walked over to him, pulling the turkey down onto the table as he went, and wrapped his arms around Magnus’ waist from behind.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“Preparing dinner.” Magnus replied frankly, as if they had not just had had one, and twirled Alec around, pressing a kiss to his lips.
Magnus was leading him to the desk now, sitting him down with a napkin on his lap.
“Now, for the first course,” Magnus clapped his hands, “chocolate lava cake!”
Alec stared down onto his plate.

There was nothing.

He looked up towards the warlock, who seemed very hopeful, and very accomplished -
And decided to play along.
“Mhm. This is lovely,” Alec smiled, twirling his tongue around the fork in his mouth, “molten in the center, and the chocolate? Rich without being too sweet. Perfectó.”
Magnus was across the table, his head in his hands with a goofy smile on his face, staring at Alec as if he was some precious artifact. Alec lowered his head back to the empty plate, his hair hiding his blush.
“Why are you even drunk Magnus? You don’t usually go that far after Peru.” Alec asked, poking and wrapping his fork with imaginary cake. He knew this was an idiotic question, given the state of the recipient of the question, but he liked a talking Magnus very much. He liked a silent Magnus very much as well.
“That, was a different matter. And I drank because, first, you Nephilims have a large family. And secondly, because today,” Magnus held up a dignified finger, “is the happiest day of my life.”
His eyes had softened now, a little red around the edges, glistening. But to Alec, they would always be beautiful as the first sun rays from heaven itself - sharp and eternal.
Our lives.” Alec amended.
The music changed. Clair De Lune was in the air now, the gentle sonata a light remedy to the overflowing, almost painful love from the two silhouettes, outlined by the soft light of the candles.
“May I?” Magnus stood up, one palm outstretched.
Alec took his hand, it was a warm, soft hand, unblemished by scars as his were, but powerful and comfortable all the same. Magnus tugged at him, and fitted him against the hollow of his chest.
And then they were dancing.
Except Magnus kept stumbling, bumping onto the legs of sofas, the edges of tables, by his own two feet.
“Are you sure you don’t want to turn the lights back on?” Alec asked, resting his forehead against Magnus’ shoulder as he steadied the man with an arm around his back.
“Mhm. I can be your eyes, darling.” Magnus murmured, softly biting the soft skin in the crook of Alec’s neck.
“Mhm. Then what can I be?” Alec murmured back, silently laughing, his head tilted.
The misty, moist eyes had sobered up all of a sudden in that split of a second, as if there was a strange revelation, an arrow of truth that had pierced through the drunken haze. Cat eyes trained so intensely onto Alec it had knocked out his breath, Magnus spoke, the words laced with undeniable determination and adoration,
“Be the whole of my world.”
Oh very clever. Alec thought to himself as he felt himself heat up, out of something other than embarrassment.
“Oh you clever clever jinx.” A curse he would fall under, again and again, in any life time, for curses only needed a different perception for it to become a blessing.
The Nephilim came to the realization that his nimble fingers had started doing something. Something of high fascination to Magnus.
The warlock opened his arms. His eyes were bright now, all traces of drunkenness gone, the candlelight a glowing circle around his tall, lithe form — the epitome of seduction —

“Take me.”
So Alec did.

Two suits (one a frockcoat, mind you) the colour of fall were left lazily sprawled out onto the floor, like two lovers under the warm glow of summer haze, alluring, enticing and very much in love.
Outside, a car was parked by the street, with a trail of tin cans trailing behind, a rusty plate and two minted words -
Just married.

Seriously, I am just writing about malec nowadays. Oh well, that is a good thing.

Ma: This took sort of a different turn to what I had in mind, but what can you do, eh? Anyhow, I cannot find a photo with a frock coat and a suit, lying on the ground, so I am sowwy D: But well, here you go~

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