“'She looks just like your wife,’ Magnus
said, offhandedly. His gaze tore back to Alec when he heard the other man choke
on the coffee he was drinking. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, are you two not married.’ 'Uh,
no,’ Alec said after recovering from his coughing fit. 'Izzy is my sister.'”
Aka, the “I fell in love with the
pregnant girl across the hall’s brother” AU.
Magnus Bane’s the head of his own
company. Alec Lightwood is in his last year of law school. They’ve never met
but have one thing in common: neither does relationships. Just one night
stands. That is until they find themselves matched on a hookup app and suddenly
one night is not enough.
Also known as the one where Magnus and
Alec meet and think they can have no strings attached sex and not develop
Despite what his sister
thinks about his non-existent love life, Alec is not in danger of an oncoming
descent into recluse crazy cat owner. For one; Church would eat his competitors
for Alec’s undivided attention and two; Alec’s a little hung up over Magnus
When Magnus gets to Nashville, Indiana
to handle his late mother’s will, he doesn’t expect to be forced to stay there
for six months. Six months away from New York and lost in the wildness of the
It quickly appears that he is going to
go through six months of living hell.
The fact that he hates the local
veterinarian on sight isn’t helping.
Alec had a problem. One
that was wrapped up in exquisite clothing and dusted in glitter. Alec was
quickly realising that being around Magnus was terrible for his composure.
Ignoring the fact that he could barely string a sentence together without
tripping over his words, he’d discovered a new distraction: magic.
After closing a
particularly spectacular legal case Magnus sends Ragnor a celebratory text only
to find himself the victim of autocorrect and having to explain to a very
handsome angel (Alec) that he isn’t God, no matter how much he wishes he was
Magnus wore cardigans
and baggy slacks. He owned two cats, and he lived in a home more suitable for
an elderly mundane woman for a reason. He was to remain boring and unsuitable
for most associations with people. He did not like attention, no matter how
positive it might be. He was to seem eccentric and weird. Living a life focused
on magic that was supposed to not exist.
Magnus Bane is a famous
stripper, used to pretty boys falling in love with him after one dance. The
feeling is hardly ever mutual. But when he meets the freshly turned twenty-one
year old Alec lightwood, he can’t take his eyes off him, and they find themselves
in love quicker than they expected.
Alec Lightwood is in
love with his best friend and colleague Jace.
Jace is straight and at the moment he’s dating
this Clary girl. Alec is certain it won’t last, as all his friend’s previous
Then there’s Magnus Bane, another co-worker and
a man who sure knows how to make Alec feel embarrassed.
Something’s going on between Alec and Magnus.
Something’s going on between Jace and Clary
Magnus is an interior
designer who is dreading going to his yearly Christmas party and Alec a waiter
who has dealt with more than enough Christmas cheer to last a lifetime. But
when the two set eyes on the other across a crowded restaurant are they going
to be destined for more when the festive season is over?
Alec has enough on his plate right now.
His parents are furious at him, Magnus Bane is making him feel things he’s
trying so hard not to feel, his wedding is coming up, and his world is breaking
apart.What he doesn’t need is a fussy mundane
version on himself showing up in the Institute basement. What he doesn’t need
is Magnus telling him that they’ll just have to wait for Seelie Magic to suck
that version of himself back to his own dimension.But since when does Alec get what he
Alternate Dimension Alec gets trapped in the Shadowhunter reality at some point
after the “I know you feel what I feel” scene. The gang desperately
tries to stop chaos from ensuing.
“How did you manage to never run
into him? He’s always helping with stuff and he’s even been at the institute
about three weeks ago to strengthen the wards against further attacks from
Valentine,” she replied and looked at her brother incredulously. Alexander
scrunched up his nose and shrugged.
“Well, maybe I have better things
to do than waiting around to watch some overrated warlock do magic
tricks,” he commented a little defensively but it was the truth. He always
had something to do and even when they were not out demon hunting, he had
either paperwork to do or train.
“Pardon me, but I’m not just some overrated warlock. I’m the High Warlock of Brooklyn and
that title is well deserved, if I may say so. And I’m appalled that you refer
to my magic as petty tricks. You Nephilim always act to high and
mighty, yet you’re constantly in need of some tricks from overrated warlocks to help you out of some unnecessary
dilemma,” a foreign voice interjected and Alec whirled around, fingers
instinctively curling around his bow to be ready to attack if need be. The
owner of the voice was not what Alexander had expected, to be honest.
With the war finally
over, Magnus had time to be alone and his mind decided to bring up all the
things and people he had lost in the war at once. At his own loft, with his two
beloved cats sleeping soundly, Magnus broke down……
“Keep your hands to yourself,” Alec
tells Magnus apropos of nothing.
Magnus frowns. “I’m on the other side of
the table!” he protests… not that he wasn’t thinking about some light groping
per say, but they’re in public, Alec might not be into it and, while he’s good
at concealing it, Magnus does have manners. Sometimes.
“So here we are.” Magnus said,
taking a step closer to Alec.
Alec gulped and took a deep breath in
through his nose. “Yeah, here we are.” He squeezed his fingers
nervously in his fists as he caught Magnus glancing towards his lips. “I-I
suppose you want me to kiss you?” He stuttered, voice faltering.
And he didn’t think it would be mended
anytime soon. He certainly didn’t think he’d be ready to let anybody in. Until
a beautiful boy walks into his shop, and steals his breath with shy glances,
kind words, and a fantastic coffee machine.
Maybe this Christmas will be better.
Or: In which Camille is awful, Ragnor
and Raphael are an old married couple, and Magnus can’t help but be enamoured
by Alec Lightwood.
Alec Lightwood is a happily settled down
man in a loving, caring relationship. But things weren’t always that way… and
once upon a time, Alec used his Valentine’s Day to celebrate the spirit of the
night as much as possible.
aka. world inverted legendary lothario
They are on opposite
edges of the same ideal. Alec so young, and Magnus so much older. Alec a
blessed acolyte of the Angel, Raziel. Magnus the abandoned son of the Greater
Demon, Asmodeus. Magnus with so much more unimportant and irrelevant
experience, and Alec with none. They could not be more different if they tried,
and yet, they are also the same. A matched set of uncertainty and inability to
accept that someone might want them for exactly who they are.
So.” Alec flops back onto the bed,
sprawled in a lazy heap on his back, sated and boneless. Magnus is already
lying on his belly, basking in the afterglow, and he surreptitiously steals
closer, burrowing against Alec’s side. “Best sex of my life.”
Magnus hums, resting his head on his
arms, revelling in the thrill those words send through him.
“Or, well,” Alec hazardously waves an
arm around, “easily in the top three.”
Magnus giggles. He has no idea where
that came from. It’s uncharacteristic for him. Magnus Bane, High Warlock of
Brooklyn is usually much too dignified to giggle. But then Alec turns his head
and grins at Magnus, lopsided and loopy but brilliant, oh so brilliant, warming
Magnus from the inside out and maybe this is exactly the kind of situation which
calls for a giggle, so Magnus will allow it. Just this once.
Magnus holds out his
hand, a silver chain running around his middle finger and wrist, and Alec
doesn’t have the time to process it – to think, doesn’t have the time to
realise what’s going to happen because he has to take it and he does,
electricity dancing through their fingers and down his back and he tries not to
think about it, holds out his own hand for Jace and feels unbalanced; he knows
Jace’s touch, remembers it from roughing each other up when they were kids even
though he tried to forget it, to turn it into a ghost when he understood, but
Magnus’ is new and smooth and unassuming and he feels uncomfortable, doesn’t
know what to do with it.
there he was. Midnight, at a party. Preparing himself to do something with a
guy. To spend one night getting all of this- this unspeakable desire out of his
system. He needed to forget it before he made a mistake and ruined his career,
his chances of becoming Head of the New York Institute.
(Alec’s panic attacks were getting worse
and worse and maybe if he spent one night with a guy he could get it out of his
system, and he could forget being gay and loving Jace. But nothing went that
smoothly, so of course Alec’s one night stand had to be Magnus Bane, and they
had to keep bumping into each other. It wasn’t like Alec wanted to understand
his emotions, anyway.)
Tumblr played with me and there are some blogs that doesn’t show and there are some authors that I couldn’t find them here. So sorry.
Okay so a quick question for an idea thing. If I were to organize a Fe Heroes themed zine would people be interested in participating? It’d probably involve having the main characters from Heroes or drawing out your team or something, i dunno. Its just an idea for now, also I don’t really have the time to plan it all out at the moment. Maybe during the summer if I’m still up to doing it.
(1) Most of the fic must be written in 100-word drabbles. (2) Non-drabble sections must be rare, and must have word counts that are multiples of 100. (3) To prevent the drabbles from becoming oddly-spaced paragraphs, five minutes must elapse between each drabble, or there must be a change in perspective.
clearly spoken for herself when she said she had no such reservation, and yet
here she was anyway, knee deep in dead bodies doing all the rescuing.
Dia could vouch right now she didn’t feel the allure of playing hero. It felt
neither honourable nor glorious to be covered in gore, hunkered down in the dirt
under heavy fire with a brewing headache hammering at the base of her skull.
She couldn’t call Brass or Zaki an idiot for getting in to this mess when she
was right in here with them. But April had cried and Link her had given her that look: ‘I thought you were Nine Knives. What are a couple guns-for-hire to you?’
A damn inconvenience, that’s what.
it wasn’t just a couple dumb
guns-for-hire. Dia had felt her muscles seize on instinct as soon as she’d
smelled the tell-tale tang of witch blood upon re-entry into the underground
bunker. It had assaulted her senses like cloying perfume with a thickness that
almost entirely masked Brass’s own distinctively smoky scent. This witch was
more powerful, and who knew what they could do?
A surge of
heat nearly scorched off her eyebrows when Dia peered around the ledge she was
hiding behind. She shrank back, swearing and blinking away the sting of smoke
that left her eyes watering.
fucking moron, Brass. It’s me!”
explicitly ordered you to get out!” Zaki shouted over a spray of gun fire that rat-tat-tat-ed around the claustrophobic
stone walls, spraying down debris and dust in a suffocating cloud. Dia
unsheathed her knives and grunted. He wouldn’t be saying that if he saw the
trail of bodies she’d mowed down in her wake.
fifteen, of which we took out at least four,” Came the answer. She’d taken
out five more herself upon re-entry.
“What?” Zaki snapped the question like it was Dia’s fault they’d sent one after them. As if she’d been the oaf who’d tripped the
alarm. “You saw them?”
hardly admit that she’d smelled them out like a dead rat in a barrel. “Sure.”
dibs!” Brass called, and as Dia peeked out of her hiding place, saw his tattooed
figure barrel roll between two pillars and shoot a blinding ball of fire into
an assailant’s abdomen. The bright white flames had them engulfed in an instant
and they let out a scream that could barely be distinguished as human, let
alone male or female. It petered out into sickening silence before they’d even
hit the floor, and the pungent odour of scorched flesh made Dia’s stomach turn.
about to yell out that perhaps Brass ought to leave the witch for them to
tackle together when she suddenly felt their presence behind her. The reek of the
still-smouldering corpse had briefly overwhelmed all other scents, but the
electric pulse of witch-blood cut through it all like a hot blade. They flared
like lightning, wild and lashing with dormant magic. Dia flung herself forward
on impulse, rolling into a coiled crouch with her knives at the ready and turned
to face the immediate threat.
was a woman. A pretty, fair thing with long auburn curls that bounced around
rosebud cheeks like a doll. She couldn’t have been much older than Dia, but
when she smiled her little white teeth looked pointy and malicious. She
reminded Dia of Gaff with his subtle instability.
tilted her face to the side and pouted, looking her over through narrowed eyes.
Her hands were still raised, fingers curled bare inches from where Dia had been
only moments ago. Dia was familiar with the unique scent of a witch’s blood,
but each ones was different, particular to their powers. She could hazard a
guess what this witch could do to make her skin crackle with static just by the smell of her.
you sense me?”
it to her, she was good at sneaking to have made it so close. It was a threat
enough that she was magic, but she seemed trained in combat or at least some
essential skills. Whatever this place was and whatever they did here, they
spared no resources protecting it.
Dia answered truthfully. Judging by the way the witch’s brow pinched, she’d
interpreted it as a petty insult instead of an honest answer. Dia didn’t feel the need to correct her.
Person A hits Person B with a car…Fenhawke. Modern AU Kirkwall
The moment after Hawke hit the pedestrian was completely silent. His hands gripped the steering wheel and the airbag sagged into his lap. He didn’t see the person he’d hit. A few more seconds of ragged breathing and Hawke still didn’t see him.
He slowly opened the car door, his mind racing. What if he’d killed the man? He had been small and running across the street in dark clothing. Hawke had slammed on his brakes, but the old Impala had a stopping distance several feet longer than the distance between them.
The man lay completely still, brightly lit by the car’s headlights. Hawke had his phone in his hand, but his hands were shaking. He hoped the man was alive.
He knelt next to the pedestrian. He had thought the man had just been very brightly illuminated as he ran in front of the car, but his hair was actually white. He wasn’t old, though. He also had pale tattoos running up his throat and onto his chin.
A timid shake of the man’s shoulder didn’t wake him up. Hawke’s fingers fumbled for the carotid artery, and he exhaled in relief when he felt a pulse. The red stain on the left side of his head spoke to his injuries, though. Hawke rocked back on his heels and dialed 911.
Fenris blinked his eyes open and squinted at the ceiling. The room was too white and too sterile to be one of Danarius’ rooms. The second thing he noticed was that he was in pain. Slightly numbed, but a considerable amount of pain nonetheless. His head throbbed and his leg not only hurt, but was wrapped and elevated. He tried to remember what had happened to land him in the hospital. Running. He remembered running. Qunari mercenaries only a block or two behind him, hot on the tail of an escaped sex slave and hungry for the rewards of returning him, rewards both monetary and otherwise. Fenris jumped as the door opened to admit a nurse and a hulking man Fenris didn’t recognize.
“Oh, he’s awake,” the nurse said, turning as if to usher the man out.
“It will only be a minute,” the man said, pushing past her to come stand by the bed.
Fenris felt his breathing quicken. The only reason he could think for someone wanting to see him was that they knew who he belonged to and how many zeroes his reward contained. He shrank down as well as he could, but the man didn’t seem to notice. He had a beanie in his hands and was twisting it nervously. Not at all the type to be one of Fenris’s usual clients. Nothing like any of the mercenaries he’d previously avoided either.
“How are you feeling?” The man asked. Fenris stared at him. Did he know this man?
“Who are you?”
The man blinked in surprise, then smiled sheepishly.
“Hawke. Garrett Hawke. I’m sorry. I’m the idiot who hit you with his car.”
I really want to go into psychology but it’s hard to find jobs and you don’t make that much money and its a very underappreciated field and like…you pretty much have to go up to phd level which I’m fine with but no one ever takes it seriously and I :(