shei;

raphael, like two days later: anyway this is elena and I love her

dmitri:

[written for Theresa]

Dear Clary,

You said you wanted me to write you a letter for your birthday, so here I am, writing that letter. At first I thought that maybe you weren’t serious. After all, we live in the same house. We are not separated by time, dimensions, or the turbulent ocean, which are the usual reasons people write letters.

 I thought maybe you were being self-effacing, that you just didn’t want me to go to any trouble, especially when we have wedding planning coming up (hopefully soon—since we’re waiting on a peace process, it could be a while). 

So I came up with the idea of taking you on a flying motorcycle to see the Northern Lights, but when I suggested it you said no, you only wanted a letter. 

I suggested we portal to the south of France and pick lavender and have a picnic, but you said no, you wanted a letter. 

I suggested we use our Shadowhunter skills to break into the Met so you could stand in front of every painting for as long as you want, but you said no, you’d rather have a letter. 

I suggested we portal to the Tokyo International Anime Fair, because I remembered you saying you’d always wanted to go, but you said no, you’d rather have a letter. 

I suggested I could find you the best, most beautiful sword that you’d ever seen, and had your initials carved into it, or a subtle message like “I <3 Jace” but you said no, you’d rather have a letter.

And then I realized that while we have had an amazing time together all these years, and  we’ve always gone around the world and seen incredible things, that things are different now. Now there is a shadow hanging over everything, the shadow of the situation in Alicante. And I realized that what you actually wanted is something you can keep with you that reminds you of hope.

So let me tell you, in this letter, why you should hope. 

Because no matter what we are facing, we are still us, Jace and Clary. We still have our friends and the people who love us. We have faced so much together, and we have always come out of the darkness into light. And in the end, I believe that love will always win out against hate, because I have faced some of the greatest evil that has ever been known, and the strength I have found in how much I love you has always carried me through. So keep this letter with you, even the in dark moments. Especially in the dark moments. I hope that it brings you comfort to know that I love you more than life itself. And if it doesn’t, remember: You could have had a flying motorcycle ride to see the Northern Lights, and you turned it down.

yours, 

Well, it's been a while! I am trying to be better about posting, I truly am. Today, since it is a miserable rainy day here, have an adorable letter from Chairman Meow to Church, after Church has moved to England. :) Written for Diane from Kickstarter.

Church Cat,

My person, the taller one, promised me that he would bring this message to you at your new palatial home in England. He has told me that the palatial home actually belongs to your human, but I do not believe him. That sounds like humanist anti-cat propaganda.

He also said he did not know what a small cat would do with such a large home. Clearly he does not understand us at all. As you know, there are many rooms that can be important in a cat’s domain. There is the room for lying around sleeping in, and the room for chasing mice, and the room for meowing loudly, and room with the best sunspots for napping in, and the room with the best furniture for sharpening claws, and the room where there are most likely to be mice.

This is the second time I have mentioned mice. I must be hungry. I will find my other human and alert him that it is time for the can-opener. Please accept this housewarming gift of a false mouse stuffed with drugs. The humans call it catnip. I’m sure you have enjoyed it before, since you are very old.

Meow,

I hate this scene but it’s an “ugly scene” and also quite crucial to the plot line. So, adding something or removing something wouldn’t have changed it. Any change would only make it worse, adding fuel to the fire, so to speak. So, let’s see. 

“Why do you want a divorce?” Max asks, pulling at bapak’s nightclothes. “Bapak. We can…We can fix this.”

“My love, I tried,” bapak whispers. “Alec and I went for therapy, and we tried. But-”

“But he gave up,” dad hisses loudly. “He gave up because that’s what he always does.”

“Alexander,” bapak raises a hand. “Please stop talking such bullshit in front of the children before I lose all respect for you. You are scaring them-”

“Stop talking like they are just your kids, Magnus!” dad spits at him. “You wouldn’t even have them if it wasn’t for me.”

There is a moment of quietness. A small void opens between the four of them. Rafael can see it.

Rafael wants to scream into it.

“Bapak?”

The voice is small and confused. Rafael’s heart almost stops.

“Why is bapak crying?” Minerva asks in confusion. 

Rafael turns around and notices that bapak is in fact crying quietly. How come he didn't notice that? 

When did he stop noticing bapak’s tears? When did they become normal?

As always, bapak finds the strength - from god knows where - to put her first. He wipes his tears, climbs out of the bed, and pulls her into his arms. “It’s nothing, my love.”

“I had a bad dream,” Minnie whispers into his shoulder. 

“It’s just a dream,” bapak whispers. “Come. I’ll read you a story. The one with the monkey, hm?”

He walks out of the bedroom with the toddler. But he doesn’t make it out of there. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” dad demands, blocking his path. 

“I’m putting her to bed,” bapak replies calmly. “Get out of my way, Alec.”

“You’re taking her away from me,” dad said quietly, his blue eyes worried. “You’re going to take her from me.”

“Dad,” Rafael sighs and grabs the man. “Let’s get you to your room.”

“No. Fuck. No. What the fuck, Magnus?” the man yells. 

“Stop shouting,” bapak says, clutching Minnie tightly. “You’re scaring her.”

“I’m scaring her?” dad laughs in disbelief. “You’re scaring her, Magnus. You’re scaring all of us!”

Bapak’s face is blank. Dad is right. It is scary. “Let me go, Alec.”

“No,” dad shakes his head. “I won’t let you take her.”

“Alec, I’m just taking her to her bedroom.”

“God knows what you tell her in there!” dad growls. 

“What on earth does that even mean?” bapak demands. 

“You think I don’t know about your secret plans with Rafael?” dad asks him. “You’re probably going to take him and run to London.”

“Rafe,” Max whispers. “What is he talking about?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rafael promises. 

But Max doesn’t look convinced. He looks scared. Minnie looks confused. Dad looks furious. Bapak looks done. 

There are fires all around him. Rafael doesn’t know which one to put out first. He considers if he should just let himself burn. 

“I won’t let you take them. You think you can just take the children and fuck off?” dad asks both angry and terrified. 

“Alec-”

“I won’t let you take them!” dad screams out. “You think you get just take your favourites and let me be stuck here with Max?”

Rafael gasps at that. 

Max does too. But it’s softer - and a little broken. 

“Max,” dad sighs and turns around. “Max. I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Fuck you,” Max spits out, all his fears momentarily replaced with anger. “Fuck all of you. Do whatever the fuck you want with your favourites. I’m out of here.”

“Max!” Rafael yells as the boy runs out of the room. He wants to run after him. But not now. Not right away. He turns around. 

Bapak and dad are staring at each other. Minnie seems to have fallen asleep on bapak’s shoulder. Even amidst all of this. It makes Rafael want to smile. Even amidst all of this. 

“I won’t let you take Minerva,” dad whispers.

It’s not a promise. It sounds like a plea. 

“What is that you said, Alec?” bapak asks, clutching the girl even tighter. “You wouldn’t even have her if it wasn’t for me.”

Dad’s eyes widen at that. 

Bapak pushes him away and walks upstairs to Minerva’s room. 

Dad leaves too. Rafael doesn’t know where. 

Alec is supposed to give a speech.

He doesn't know if he can do it. He feels sick to his stomach.

He looks at his son who is sitting next to him.

Not Max.

Max hasn't stopped crying. Alec isn't worried about the tears. But he worries about what might come after.

He is scared for Max.

He looks at the other boy. His rock.

"Rafael," he whispers. "Rafael, I can't do it."

Rafael hasn't cried.

Not once. Not a single tear.

Alec is terrified for Rafael.

"I'll do it," Rafael says emotionlessly.

He walks up to the little podium when it's time.

He delivers the speech.

Wait. No.

What do they call it again?

A eulogy.

Rafael does it perfectly as he does everything else.

After he is done, he comes down and sits down next to Alec again.

"Thank you," Alec swallows.

Rafael doesn't look at him. He looks at the casket. "You got what you wanted."

Alec stares blankly. The words don't make sense to him. Nothing does. Not really. Not anymore.

"Alexander," Magnus whispered. "I told you not to hold on."

Suddenly Alec's arms were around him, crushingly hard. Magnus swallowed a breath that wanted to be a sob and buried his face in the curve of Alec's neck and shoulder. Magnus's hands ran up Alec's back and shoulders, touched the softness of the back of his neck, his dark hair, feeding on the reassurance that he was alive and well and real. Alec pulled him even closer. Into Magnus's ear he whispered,  "I would never let you go."

Magnus might have been trying a bit too hard to appear louche and unconcerned, but judging by Alec’s crestfallen expression, he was really pulling it off.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Alec panted. “Jace wanted to do some weapons training, and I didn’t know how to get away—I mean, I couldn’t tell him—”

“Oh, Jace, that’s it,” said Magnus.

“What?” said Alec.

“I briefly forgot the blond one’s name,” Magnus explained, with a dismissive flick of his fingers.

Alec looked staggered. “Oh. I’m—I’m Alec.”

[...]

“Yes,” said Magnus slowly, and then he smiled slowly as well. “Your name I remember.”