I gooooofed my layers so this isn’t getting colors until I’m patient enough to get rid of all the white in the lineart layer. xD ANYWAY. Sewer man & revolutionary helps in a lambing for the first time; gets emotional about it. ^u^
feels their eyes on him as he sits at the bar, waiting.
They aren’t subtle. They stare openly, gaze flickering from the
runes on his neck to the flush of his cheeks to the way his foot taps
against the sticky floor. Their whispers are more like accusations,
their words loud enough to overcome the thumping bass ricocheting off
Pandemonium’s walls, and even without his hearing rune activated
the sentiment is clear as day.
It’s uncomfortable, even after Valentine’s demise, to be the
sole Nephilim here, hands empty of drinks with the weight of hundreds
of stares on his shoulders. Alec pulls his phone out to text Magnus
or Izzy or anybody, but he pauses when a gradual hush
falls behind him, silence rolling through the club like a warning.
Alec turns slowly, seat swiveling with a creak, and then there he is,
parting the crowd on sheer presence alone.
Magnus, except it’s not tender smiles and soft kisses and bitter
coffee, and it’s not clever grins and wise quips and crackling
It’s Magnus in his element, gaze sweeping lazily over his
territory, saturated in the faint neon glow of pulsing lights,
looking perfect and untouchable with his hair swept high and dark
eyes flashing. Alec doesn’t… he doesn’t even know how to
describe it properly, the way Magnus looks different here
– words aren’t coming, tangled on his tongue, and all Alec knows
is that there’s an urgent, inexplicable, overeager thing
inside him that runs so hot it freezes him in place. And when Magnus
smirks at him with a raised eyebrow, dammit, Alec wants to –
Alec turns, heart beating rabbit-fast as he tracks the voice
coming from a hovering stranger who stares down at Magnus with lime
green lizard’s eyes. God, he’d forgotten there were people
around, forgotten that he was in the middle of a club. A
few feet away, the stranger scowls at him with something close to
annoyance, but Magnus chuckles and gives Alec a pointed look before
clapping the warlock on the arm in a familiar gesture.
The man leads Magnus to a group in the corner, and Alec watches as
they surround Magnus until Alec can barely see the glossy tips of
Magnus’s dark hair from his seat by the counter. Sounds of laughter
fall like a summer storm, cheerful and loud and raucous, shouts of
Magnus’s name spilling from their lips. The six warlocks around
Magnus turn into twelve turn into more warlocks than Alec’s ever
seen in one place, faces blurring as everybody crowds around with
smiles on their lips and shot glasses in hand, and Alec can’t see
Magnus anymore beyond a single ringed hand rising from the fray,
slotted in the middle of the horde.
The High Warlock of Brooklyn, king amongst his people. And the
kinder side of Alec’s mind tells him to smile for the way Magnus is
loved, to be happy that others know his worth, but that voice is
being bulldozed right now by greed and want and frustration burning
under his skin, asking why the hell did you interrupt and come back come back come back.
When Magnus is done, when he finally returns to Alec, still
smiling and indescribably perfect, Alec’s palms are aching from the
way his fingernails dug in, and the thing that froze him in place
before comes angry and alive. When Magnus drags him backwards with a
laugh, winding between drunk Downworlders, and sways his hips in time
with the pulsing beat, Alec follows with intent.
The want flares into a flaming thing, hot and heavy when Magnus
dances around Alec like a twist of silk, hands lingering on Alec’s
neck, his waist, his chest, his eyes closed in bliss. And when Magnus
grinds back against Alec and bares the long, sinuous line of his neck
to Alec’s teeth, his spiked hair grazing Alec’s cheek… all Alec wants
to do is wreck him, to smudge
his makeup and bury his hands in his hair. But not here, not
in Pandemonium, not with Seelie whispers and vampire stares and Alec
feeling like he’s going to knock everything over with how much he
wants. He’s a quivering mess and Magnus is just watching him, eyes sweet and sly, and it’s unfair that Magnus can do this without even saying a word.The way color catches on the high, upswept wave of Magnus’s
hair, the way his eyes glow like melted gold, the way his lips are
slick and wet and waiting… Alec needs it for himself and no one
They’ve danced themselves onto the edge of the floor, and the
memory of the last time he was in this spot races through Alec’s
head. He remembers a sparkling ruby, an arrow buried in the chest of
a murderer, and a glimpse of a man who he didn’t yet know was going
to change his life.
But just as quickly, he forgets it. He doesn’t care
about before right now. Instead, he just pulls
Magnus into him, and the flame under his skin turns into the sun as
he kisses Magnus for a taste of tequila and smoke.
“I want to leave,” Alec says hoarsely between kisses. “I want to go
them, the soundtrack of pulsing music fades in favor of a gang of
warlocks who whoop and shriek for the way their High Warlock smiles
wickedly into the lips of a Nephilim boy.
FEATHERS IN THE BROAD WING OF TIME // Because let’s face it, Shanks is the kind of guy
who’d turn up every single year to
celebrate a shared birthday. [background Shanks x Makino]
He’ll regret it
for years, the day he accidentally lets slip the date of his birth in Red-Hair’s presence.
birthday is March 9?”
He hears from the
inflection alone that he’s made a mistake, and, “No,” he’s saying then, and he
doesn’t know if he’s denying it or refuting what is coming, but whatever it is,
it’s too late. Because Red-Hair’s grin is too wide for his face, and the laugh
that tears from him is so loud Mihawk flinches,
even before the words that follow ring out into the once-blessed quiet, sealing
his fate as surely as the finishing blow in a sword’s match–