“ ♪ About The Time You Think You’ve Locked Your Heart Up Safely, Someone Breaks Right Through.

This makes life worth living

DONT MIND ME IM JUST HAVING A JUDECARDAN BREAKDOWN AT THE MOMENT

+ ROVINA CAI'S ART IS STUNNING

James? My love? The Gracelet? WHHYYYYYY?!!!!!??

Magnus to Alec

Dear Alec,

Before anything else, I just want to mention once again that you are by far the handsomest man I have ever met, with the most beautiful blue eyes, and what I love most about you, among so, so many other features, is that you are a man of incalculable understanding, patience, and forgiveness.

Yes, this is our vacation. Yes, you and the kids are lounging on the soft white sands of St Barths, as is good and right. Yes, I have had to dash to London on urgent business involving Blackthorns. Yes, I have been receiving your many supportive texts, accompanied by your many photos in which you look angry while holding umbrella drinks.

No, I will not be back today. You must imagine me saying this with the heaviest of sighs and the most forlorn look. I need one more day. Blackthorn Hall is haunted—which I could have told anyone who had bothered to ask, I’ve never known a more obviously haunted place in my life—and none of the little Blackthorns (who I suppose are no longer quite as little as all that) have had to deal with this kind of ghostiness before.

So again, let me commend you for your forbearance in this time of trial. That is not sarcasm, just formal! I really mean it!

Love you, Alec. See you tomorrow night. The next morning at the absolute latest -

To the Greatest Man Who Has Ever Or Will Ever Live,

It will be tomorrow morning. I was meaning to depart tonight, but it is now very, very late, and I have had no small amount of wine, and these are not the conditions by which I would feel quite safe opening a Portal. It will not do me any good to return to St Barth if I show up on top of the Gustavia Lighthouse.

So since I cannot yet sleep, but must, let me quickly fill you in.

The Blackthorns are fixing up Blackthorn Hall—fancy that—and while I understand they are now properly adults, they are still young enough to use a hundred year old Ouija board they found hidden in the walls. Didn’t have a planchette? Not a problem, we will just make one out of scrap without reference to the wood or the ley-lines or any of the— Sorry. I couldn’t help it, it’s such the Shadowhunter stereotype. Leap before you look. In fact, just leap. Leap whenever and wherever.

As it turns out (spoiler alert!) the spirit of the house—at least the restless one—means no apparent harm and is just your standard everyday “ghost looking for its missing bauble to move on” situation, as you’ll see. But I was more alarmed for it being the house in Chiswick. Many generations of Lightwoods lived in it over many years, and there always seemed a dark shadow over the place. In the mid-19th it was the home of, I’m sorry to say, a very bad Lightwood, definitely one of the worst Lightwoods, and after that, well, its fall from grace was precipitous. I cannot say from what time period this ghost might date, but given its reaction to the name “Blackthorn”, I had my worries.

Anyway, by the time I got to the house, Julian and Emma had managed to cause the Ouija board to, you know, magically shatter into a dozen pieces. I magicked it back—note for future reference, easier to magically repair something that was magically broken in the first place rather than with, say, a hammer—and produced a makeshift but actually calibrated and warded planchette. And burned their planchette in a fire. Outside.

It was quick enough at that point to contact the presence in the house, who was indistinct, probably from being alone for the past hundred-odd years. Let me tell you, Alec love, I was worried then. I was worried that this ghost was someone I knew. Someone I cared about, once. It probably isn’t—most of them would have no reason to be ghosts at all, much less ghosts stuck here—but once the thought occurred to me, I couldn’t put it aside. I tried to ask but you know how ghosts are. “I do not now know you,” it said. Great. But did you know me when you were alive? Just “I do not now know you.”

Anyway the thing was peaceful enough. We finally got around to the topic of why he is a ghost—we got enough of a spoken voice to know the voice is male, at least. He spoke aloud, and firmly. I am bound here by a silver band, he said.

Whether this silver band is a ring, a bracelet, a handcuff, the concept of “the ties that bind,” or a group of robot musicians, I have no idea. But it’s normal enough for a ghost to be bound by an object and to be looking for the thing that binds them. I honestly didn’t get a negative vibe from the guy. I’m… let’s say ninety percent sure that it’s not the aforementioned Bad Lightwood, at least. I told Julian and Emma there was no harm in their keeping an eye out for a silver band during their cleanup of the house, but not to worry themselves sick over it. This felt like wise advice at the time, although we had all had quite a bit of wine at that point.

The wine was in fact drunk continually throughout the evening, as there are some salvageable bottles from the cellar—rather amazingly, although I don’t know, maybe Shadowhunters have wine preservation runes somewhere near the back of the Gray Book. And drinking red wine while talking to a ghost just seemed, I don’t know, the right pairing? But of course now I have a splitting headache from a combination of sulfites and light necromancy. I am going to put myself to long-overdue sleep, and then tomorrow at six in the morning your time please tell le garçon I would like waiting for me a café allongé, very hot and a sidecar, very cold. I will then entertain the children for the rest of the day while you, my love, my all, take a nap and join us whenever you please.

With all my love, all my kissin’, you don’t know what you been missin’,

M.

Like or reblog if you save, sweetheart x

How can i not love them?

it was her, the strange human girl he’d once seen in the unseelie weapons room. (requested by anonymous)

The BEST fandom EVER!!!!

@kai517-teenwriter voila! Three chibis

They were pretty good at keeping me busy all morning ^^

Can i ask for it?

Traded my heart for a lap dance.

Damian Wayne woke up with a killer headache and dry mouth. His head pounded, the light playing across his eyes causing him to instinctively bury himself deeper into the bedsheets. He wondered what the hell he drank the night before to make his head hurt like this. He did not recall having more than three drinks…it was possible he had more. When was the last time he was hungover? Jon’s seventeen birthday but he could be wrong as the alcohol or whatever he had ingested last night, clearly affected his brain functions.

After counting to twenty, he decided it was time to face reality and find a way to get rid of this bothersome, intense headache. A cold shower and black coffee will do. He was cautious opening his eyes slowly because he knew more pain was forthcoming. The room only spun for a second before the world righted itself and Damian was able to scan his surroundings. He recognized the place immediately. His room. Looks like somehow, he had managed to get in his hotel room despite his state of inebriation.

There were clothes scattered on the floor, bottles of champagne and his favorite wine half-empty, not too far from the bed. Glancing around, quickly spotted his own underwear halfway across the room. At that moment he realized he was completely naked. Obviously he had gotten some kind of action last night. The kind that is too hard to resist when you’re intoxicated, especially when it has been too long since the last time he engaged in such activities. The physical intimacy and the endorphins release when you reach climax. But Damian Wayne did not give into temptation easily. No. He concentrated on breathing in and out for a few moments while he furiously tried to recall the night’s events.

A flash of memory lit up his mind.

Eager and warm hands venture beneath his shirt, fingers digging deeper, and deeper into his back and a part of him wishes it leaves a mark. A memento of this night. Lips pressing hungrily into his own as if they were claiming him, telling him they belong entirely to her. Tresses of ebony hair tickle his neck and a skilled mouth trails kisses down his throat, exploring with her tongue and teeth as slender fingers tangle in his hair. The small, ragged moans and gasps she makes ignite a fire in his chest, spreading desire to the rest of his body and Damian can’t contain himself any longer; he needs to have all of her.

Scrunching his eyes shut he willed himself to remember more. After a minute of trying, he came up with a blurry impression of sitting in the vip room he was offered, the hypnotizing movements of well-rounded hips. Piercing, dark blue eyes with a light tint of violet in them. They were dazzling, mystic, as if they were not from this world. He couldn’t think of anything more fascinating than watching this woman dance. Each movement was pure torture making his mouth dry.

“Everyone here calls me Raven, Mr. Wayne.” She had said with a playful smirk. Damian could feel the entire heat of her gaze, hungry and teasing and hunting for more.

Piecing together the bits of information from last night and the flashes of memories coming to him. It’s quite evident that he spent the night with the beautiful, exotic dancer he met at the nightclub. It was only reaffirmed when he noticed the blanket moving next to him. There she was still sound asleep; half-buried so deep under the charcoal duvet he failed to see her when he first opened his eyes. She was breathing evenly, sleeping peacefully beside him. One arm curled under the pillow, and the other stretched unconsciously as if trying to find something she needed. And then he spotted something curious; a ring on the third finger of her left hand. Not just any ring. A diamond ring sparkling there. A piece of jewellery that was not there last night, that was given to symbolize commitment. A lifelong promise that one makes to another. The union of two hearts that pledged a sacred vow to spend a lifetime together as Grayson had poetically expressed a thousand times after proposing to Gordon.

What the fuck happened last night?

Damian swallowed hard. “This has to be a fucking joke.”

Just messing this draft here for the I accidentally married the stripper I met last night AU nobody asked for but it’s here. @ravenfan1242 😂😂😂

If a woman has a heartbeat you can’t tell her what to do with her goddamn body!

2022 is for the gays and the gays alone

gonna try to get some tasks done today