#soulsdestroyed

@soulsdestroyed said: ❝ you should have called me. ❞ ( 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 ) || 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ➳ 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

Lydia is 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆, and she’s certain he can tell. Hell, any wolf that would go by this spot over the next twelve hours would be able to tell; hiding chemosignals from werewolves is not something the banshee is capable of — being a genius doesn’t allow for the 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆. Well, not in all respects; she can be drawn to a fresh cadaver in the middle of the night, but she can’t hide her looming panic attack from a learned wolf. It’s because of said panic that she can feel herself losing control ( if she was one of them her claws and fangs would be out by now, emotions running on overdrive ) but instead she’s 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, the assistance offered by the likes of Peter Hale almost laughable in her anxious state of mind.

@soulsdestroyed said: ❝ crush, who's got a crush? ❞ ( 𝑫𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒌 ) || 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ➳ 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

@soulsdestroyed said: ❝ don't waste your eyes on jealous guys, fuck that noise. ❞ ( 𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 ) || 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ➳ 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

“Maybe I 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 when he’s jealous.” The strawberry blonde can practically feel the 𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 radiating off of Allison where she’s perched on the end of her bed, but Lydia 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆. It’s a feeling she can’t help, a constant underlying need to be 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 that is satiated by her boyfriend’s 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓. The guy wants to be her priority, a desire she can easily relate to; something Allison doesn’t understand because she is automatically 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞.

@soulsdestroyed said: ❝ i’m sure you’re busy now, why else would you ignore me? ❞ ( 𝑵𝒐𝒂𝒉 ) || 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ➳ 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

The strawberry blonde can hear the 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 in his tone even through the wooden barrier between them. Small figure leans back against the door, pretty features crumpled in a wince as she wills him to 𝒈𝒐. He knows she’s in there, he’d seen the lights on in her dorm from his window ( their close proximity a disadvantage when trying to avoid someone ).

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕, she wants to bite back through the crack between door and wall, to seethe at him and beat tiny fists into his chest, because he’d done the 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. He’d made her 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 and that was unforgivable. They could call their sleeping arrangement platonic all they liked, but whatever it was, it wasn’t 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒉𝒚.

@soulsdestroyed​ sent: bloody : my muse coming to your muse with blood stains on their clothes and hands, shaking. ( average thursday night for alec tbh ) One Word Prompt | Accepting

            It’s late. Even by Magnus’s (rather flexible) standards, the hour has long past since he would have expected clients -- or even friends -- to come calling at his door. That does not mean, however, that the Warlock is asleep. 

           Bane is standing at his open balcony doors, watching the skyline with absent, wandering thought, when his wards alert him to the arrival of a visitor. He turns, frowning at the intrusion. But the Warlock’s expression is less one of annoyance, than concern. Late night visitors (particularly those that come unannounced) almost always mean danger. Magnus turns, waiting for the knock at his entryway. When it doesn’t come, he flicks his fingertips to open wide his front door and meet the intruder head on. What he doesn’t expect to find is...

         “---Alexander!” Bane exhales the name like a cry of dismay, his startled gaze taking in the younger man’s grim state in a glance. The Warlock’s eyes flick from Alec’s pinched, vacant features... to the dark stains (oh Edom, let that be someone else’s blood) mottling his clothing... to the crust of drying blood painted up the length of the younger man’s hands and forearms. The shadowhunter looks as though he’s just emerged from a slaughter, and Magnus’s chest clenches tight, fear like a vice around his heart. 

         Without thinking, Bane moves forward, careful not to crowd Alec even as he gingerly cups one elbow and guides the shadowhunter inside. “...what... Are you Hurt?” He asks, only just resisting the urge to scan the younger man’s vitals with a pulse of magic. Alexander had come here... here, not to his home at the institute. Magnus can not be certain whether that’s a positive sign... or a dire one..

        Cupping Alec’s bloodied hands between his own, the Warlock summons a warm, damp rag and gently wipes at the Shadowhunter’s calloused palms, urging him to curl his fingers into the touch. Beneath the flaking layer of gore, Bane sees no immediate damage. Well.. no physical damage. Alexander’s normally steady hands are shaking, he notes. 

          @soulsdestroyed​ SENT A FIRE MESSAGE.  ❛ Every obstacle you faced, I thought you wouldn’t have overcome it. ❜

                   “The only reason I’ve overcome them is because I’ve had centuries of experience. Centuries of pain. I would be numb to it if I allowed myself to be. To calcify.” Magnus swirled his whiskey in its glass, his lips downturned into a permanent frown. His hand gripped the arm of his chair tightly, holding onto it like a lifeline. “Do you have a point here, Herondale, or are you just here to tell me how little you think of me? If so, please do take a number and get in line. I believe my father has first dibs.”