All of them were beaming with
pride, but no face glowed as
brightly as his father’s.
“My son,” he kept saying, to
anyone who would listen. “My son won
the battle; that’s my son up there.
Lightwood blood will tell; our
family have always been fighters.”
Robert rose to his feet, his chair
scraping backward, and tapped the
side of his fork against his glass.
The sound rang out in the room, and
the Shadowhunters fell silent,
looking up toward the Lightwood
“We gather here today,” said
Robert, reaching out his arms
expansively, “to honor my son,
Alexander Gideon Lightwood, who
has single-handedly destroyed the
forces of the Endarkened and who
defeated in battle the son of
Valentine Morgenstern. Alec saved
the life of our third son, Max. Along
with his parabatai, Jace
Herondale, I am proud to say that
my son is one of the greatest
warriors I have ever known.” He
turned and smiled at Alec and
Magnus. “It takes more than a strong
arm to make a great warrior,” he
went on. “It takes a great mind and
a great heart. My son has both. He
is strong in courage, and strong in
Alec looked around the room.
“This is the deepest wish of my
“Sure,” Magnus said. “Your
father, proud of you.
You, the hero
of the hour. Me, loving you.
Everyone approving of you,”
Life is loss,
Alexander, but it’s better than this.”
- You take a right on Burnside. You take a left on 10th. You take a left on Stark. You take a left on 8th. Burnside has disappeared. You are back on the east side somehow. The one ways lead you nowhere. You catch a glimpse of the minotaur’s tail as you take another left.
- The NE 7th Ave MAX stop has always been closed. Sometimes, the train doors open when it stops at the platform for that brief second. Nobody looks at the doors. Nobody ever looks at the doors. The NE 7th Ave MAX stop has always been closed.
- You decide that this year, you’re going to be brave and jump off the rocks at High Rocks. You leap, and you are falling towards the water. You continue falling. The rocks really were very high. For you, summer is eternal, just like you’ve always wished in the back of your head.
- “The rain keeps it warm in the valley!” You own coats made of rain. Blankets made of rain. The rain is good. The rain is warm. The rain is getting warmer, or you are getting colder. You stopped asking years ago.
- You are looking out over the Hawthorne Bridge. Or are you on the Burnside Bridge? Or the Steel Bridge? You look around you to find nothing but bridges connecting to one another. You live in the city of bridges, after all.
- The fog this morning smells like skunk. You begin to feel very sleepy. Suddenly, the line of tourists at Voodoo doesn’t seem like such a steep price to pay for a maple bacon bar. You want to wake up from this hell.
- You thought that the woman at Saturday Market with the cataract eyes and tattered clothes was just another member of the homeless population when you dropped change in her jar. Now you’re left with a chicken foot and all of this blood.
- The gardens at The Grotto are beautiful. The statues at The Grotto are beautiful. You cannot take your eyes off of them. You are seeing from their perspective now.
- You can see anything from Rocky Butte. You can see Washington from there. You have looked for too long. You have seen too much. You make the walk back to your car sullen at the knowledge of the bridge between this plane and the next. It was much more exciting when you hadn’t seen it.
- Everybody likes to talk about who and what lives in Forest Park, but nobody likes to talk about who and what comes out of the park. Too many things come out of the park.
av-mello said: if thats the case, I’m super worn out and sore today, if its not a bother could you maybe write something short with dorian humming/singing/playing the lute? just something with music, music always makes me feel better (if you arent busy at all)
The song pulsed deep inside him, curdling his insides and tangling through his veins until each was on fire. Everything was too loud, too much and Cullen slammed his book down on the desk with an echoing crash, raising his hands to dig his thumbs into his temples with a groan.
He’d woken to a nagging ache deep behind his eyes, lashing tendrils of pain spreading through his skull and down his neck, settling into his shoulders. He winced as he moved his hand to rub at a knot at the base of his neck, hissing as the pain flared and dimmed again.
It would take so very little to be rid of it all and his salvation was so near. Just a few inches away and the box that held his relief could be in his hands. He fingered the drawer of his desk, teasing it open a few inches before slamming it shut again.
uhm. ok modern au sidons about 6’ 2" i thnk ? maybe 6’ 4" ? av. max weight fr a guy his heights about 200ish pounds i dont know ? how strong link is but it seems somewhat feasible that he could maybe lift sidon like. a couple inches of the ground