No, but a spin off of Shadowhunters named ‘Keeping up with Downworlders’.
• Raphael bickering with whoever is available maybe it be Ragnor, Catarina, Dot, Simon or even Luke
• he tries it with Magnus too. But Magnus just rolls his eyes and takes a sip of the cocktail ever present in his hand
• totally follows Luke’s day job as a cop. Wherein he pretends to be on The Office and looks straight at the camera whenever his colleagues do something stupid
• features random ass band performances by Simon and his band
• guests appearances by Clary, Jace and the rest of shadowhunters while they are asking for help. Cue both Luke and Magnus looking at the camera.
• features a shit ton of domestic Malec being their usual cute and touchy feely self. Jace bets that they can’t kiss more than 10 times in a episode. So an entire episode is dedicated solely to the two kissing their asses off.
• Meliorn and Raphael totally had a stand off one episode and it ended with both of them swearing never to go near another shadowhunter ever again.
•also Raphael and Simon totally try to out cute Malec at one point. Everyone is like ?? They are dating? To which Raphael promptly grabs Simon and kisses the shit out of him
•also entire 10 mins every episode dedicated to Maia, and her day job as a bartender in which she gets a shit ton of customers including mundies. Featuring her sassing the people especially Jace
• also on popular demand entire episode dedicated to Simon showing Jace how to drive, while Raphael sulks in the backseat and Magnus rolls his eyes
In which Harry is a poetic frat boy who just so happens to be the TA for your new English class.
Author’s note: This is gonna be a multi-part fic!! I’m really excited for it and would love any and all feedback. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Xo
You aren’t a newbie, but your frazzled appearance might portray you that way.
Autumn air nips at your cheeks as you rush around the corner and continue along the edge of the sidewalk. Your feet carry you around other students who aren’t as pressed for time. They give you amused side-glances as you hustle into the entrance of the closest brick building.
This was supposed to be your semester, the one where you get to class early and rewrite your notes by hand and get straight As. But one-too-many snoozed alarms later and your first day of classes has become your worst nightmare.
You take the stairs two at a time, and are rushing through the doorway to the second floor when you slam full force into a particularly solid shoulder. You’re knocked off balance and a flurry of papers careen through the air to scatter the floor around you.
“When I first met the boys, … because they come from the pop world, they always seemed a bit insecure and almost apologetic about themselves. I was like, ‘You’re one of the best bands in the country’. I don’t think people realise they write the songs and actually play them. You go and see them live and it’s like, 'Wow, they’re amazing.’"
been thinking about this since they announced that the new season is 50 years
later. That’s 50 years to play around with whatever fic ideas you want. And Genndy
just gave his ultimate blessing to do so.
So much of it bubbling beneath the surface it takes a moment for the bitterness to start flowing. It begins in his toes, undulating in waves across every crevice before splintering onto the road mapping his legs, cutting up and up until the cold freezes into a glacier, plonking down in his gut.
He needs it to happen a lot faster if he’s going to withstand the impact of your palm striking his cheek.
And there’s no doubt it’ll hurt. You’re frozen in that vast space between a second and a heartbeat, and Mitsunari doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so alive. Blazing. Torn between hell’s fury and the devil’s wrath. Arm jerked high and hand poised, ready to strike.
He’s prepared for it, despite the curdling in his pulse and the ice in his gut.
“Don’t ever say that to me again.” And you tear away from him so fast, like a whip returning to its master, he feels the echo of a slap ringing out anyway. You can’t look at him, and the ice snaps and huffs as you stagger to his bookshelf, pitched forward, fingers etched too tight into the wood for purchase.
It’s all he hears, your breaths furious, rankling in his ears.
“Shut up. Don’t say a word.”
His breath shakes out of him too, once, twice, before you turn to look at him, red and puffy lining poison-black eyes. It’s the only part still savage when your entire face withers. He has but a beat to summon the ice again before you’ve stalked back, hands fisting into his sleeve.
“Listen to me, Lord Mitsunari. You can’t— you can’t say something like that without realising what it does to the people around you. It’s too cruel. We love you… Lord Hideyoshi loves you. I— I love you.” You gasp against the choke, swallowing, and every word has to be dragged out. “If I don’t see you barreling down the hallway with a book in your hand, my day doesn’t feel right.
“You are important and valuable and a part of this family. We would crumble without you. You don’t know how significant you are to all of us.” Your breath hitches, voice too shaky to go on. He wants to howl because he’s hurt you. “I need you to know that if you suddenly disappeared from this earth it would— it would—” Tears gather again though they don’t fall because girls like you don’t cry; strong girls, fierce girls, “—it would break my heart.”
In a broken rush of air you drop the world into his lap.
He doesn’t know what to do because he has ice in his veins.
So much of it bubbling beneath the surface it takes a moment for his heart to cry out a rhythm to the corners of his flesh. It starts in his feet, shooting out and pulsating so furiously it doesn’t see how his toes curl, cutting off the path and sending the ice hurtling head long into its first barrier and smashing little fractures all over. It back tracks in revulsion because the sensation is so foreign, crashing through the chambers of his veins up into his legs. The ascent is a rocky one, and along the way shards crack and hurl about, whittling the cold down before it reaches his gut.
Mitsunari can’t breathe.
His gut swallows the torrent and a glacier starts to form, a feeling so familiar to his bones it takes a moment longer before the cry reaches it and everything starts to spit and hiss and decompress, and his gut, wound so tight already, spits the ice back out because it no longer wants to be the sanctuary of so much fear. The ice weaves back into his veins and spindles out and out and, bypassing the heart altogether, funnels into his arms and down through his fingers, where it thinks it can make a mockery of how coiled his fists shake.
But Mitsunari can’t breathe.
And the ice shrieks against a blaze so thunderous it jerks back through the sensory paths and twists around his neck. Freezing and freezing.
He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe.
His mind steps in, his breath, short and stiff, steps in, his gut steps in, his toes and feet and arms and fingers step in, you step in, straight into his chest and they all clip and chip away at the stranglehold around his neck. The ice screams and chokes, spittles furiously, and it won’t let go because he is ice, he is nothing without the ice, he needs this ice.
It’s too much. He can’t breathe. It’s all too much.
Suddenly everything bursts.
He can breathe.
Because he feels it, so soft and sweet, against his chest and it makes him want to crumple to the ground and cry because your lips flutter through the fabric to his heart, hushing and cooing the storm.
It starts in his toes then.
Seeping out in lazy flicks, burning and lighting the path and sizzling the blood in his veins. It caresses every nook and cranny, each dip in his muscles, until the aching pool of warmth settles into his gut, and he feels the holding and whispering tendrils of heat fanning out and out. It’s fire. Hot and bright, gentle and misunderstood. And it’s you as well, breathing a fever through his heart, melting the winter and roasting the shards, making it blaze forever and ever until his whole body thaws into you.