high-warlock-of-brooklyn:

You know if I say “Well done”, and someone replies “More like medium rare”, there’s like a 93% chance I’ll fall in love with them.

Yeah, definitely.

drublaccthorn:

Any shadowhunters :

Magnus Bane :

shumdariodaily:

–The happiness of eating in an institute.

youngreckless:

khaleesiofalicante:

All I learned from this week’s sobh is that Magnus was once again disturbed

sharona1x2:

dearestalec:

Honestly, I’m so glad they are taking this route tho bc I know we are always “them together vs the world” about malec and I absolutely want this, later, when they have BUILD a “them together” but they haven’t yet.
They just met, “it’s all very new”, they CARE but they care about other things too, there’s so much going on and in the middle of that there they are with those tender feelings and no place to put them, no stable soil to plant them to grow…
So I’m glad we are getting conflict bc it makes sense for it right then, when everything is out of control. It’s good to see them not giving in to each other. It’s healthy to maintain that level of self that they HAVE to keep. They are their own people and even in caring for each other they have their priorities and seeing that bubble up already is a sign for how deep they are in it but also how critical the situation is? It MAKES them face all these conflicts and fight early and if, when they make it through this they will so with a sense of self and a sense of them and the realization of how much they mean to each other and it will only serve to make them stronger bc nothing was important enough to break them, even what little them they had?
The fact that they face that inevitable conflict and come out of it more in love than before is ??? Everything

I don’t think it could possibly be said any better than this.

The Dance of Life

1/?

The afternoon light falls gently into the gym, the heat of the morning receding as the wind brings freshness from the sea, salty air flooding through the opened windows. Magnus puts the last blanket on the foot of a yoga mat and walks to the middle of the circle, lighting a candle set in a wide vase filled with sand. Relaxing music is softly playing in the background, and Magnus takes a deep breath. It’s still half an hour until his course starts, but it’s the day after the new arrivals, and he makes sure to be ready early for the questions that his new clients often prefer to ask before other entrants arrive.

Magnus loves his job: the beautiful view of the rolling hills that he has through the large windows in this room, his colleagues – medical and non-medical ones alike – and the clients, of course, who come here to recover from illnesses that disrupted their lives, trying to find themselves, mourning the innocence and old ease they lost, and revive what’s possible, creating new patterns on the way.

Magnus stretches his body and rolls his shoulders. The stiffness from a night spent on his sofa instead of his comfortable bed still plagues him after a morning round of pushing middle-aged women through a jazz choreography and taming a swarm of toddlers in his early dance education class. It’s fun, most days, but the afternoon will be different, and he’s looking forward to it.

He loves working here. It’s taxing but so worth it. He never thought he’d find something that would fulfil him the way his past profession did. The dancing classes pay for his bills, but this here is a labour of love, the part of his life that makes everything – even the shitty days away from the city he loves – worth it. It’s not home, but it’s safe. And that’s what he needs the most.

He walks into the space to the side of the circle that is purposefully left open for the exercises he planned for today. He moves to the music, his body flowing easily with the rhythm. There are no jumps, no pirouettes, no need to look strong and pretty. He gives himself to the music for a few long minutes, until a slight cough pulls him out of his trance.

He swirls around, the move elegant and graceful. He has a warm smile playing on his lips, ready to ease the concerns and doubts of whoever came early to put out feelers if this is the right place to start their recovery journey.

It’s only thanks to decades of perfecting the control of his body that the start ripping through him as he looks at the source of the sound doesn’t let him end up on his bottom. The man standing just inside his room is breathtaking.

‘Who are you?’ Magnus thinks, flooded by a curious pull tugging on his senses. He stops himself from indulging in it. This man might be a new colleague he hasn’t met yet or a client looking for directions. It’s easy to lose oneself in the long corridors and different wings of the building. So he rights his clothes in an attempt to straighten his thoughts and asks, “How can I help you, sir?”

The man blushes adorably, a shy smile growing on his face. The stranger considers the set-up, and Magnus uses the moment to let his eyes run over him. He’s handsome, his dark hair an adorable mess, his jaw sharp with a scruff to die for. Magnus suppresses a sigh and blinks himself out of the staring, just in time for it not to be noticed. At least, he hopes he managed that.

“Um… is this the dance therapy class?” the stranger asks.

Magnus nods. “Yes. But it’s still twenty minutes until we start. Are you looking for someone?”

“Yeah,” the beautiful man chuckles. “You. I first didn’t want to come, even though a friend of mine highly recommended it. I wasn’t sure if I fit in here, but then I saw that you’re a man, and I thought, if I’m not the only one, then…” he trails off and moves his arms behind his back, keeping them there. He looks like a relaxed soldier, Magnus thinks, if there’s even such a thing.

“Oh, you wanna join?” Magnus asks, delight spreading on his face. He barely has men attending. It’s likely because the clinic management is a bit old-school and advertises his courses mostly to women. They’re probably worried that Magnus’ optics might confuse fragile men, who think of all of this as unmasculine. As if men wouldn’t carry the need to be home in their bodies and feel themselves, too.

“Yes. My table neighbour Maia raved about how incredible you are,” the client says rolling on the balls of his feet.

Magnus smiles. Maia is here for the second time. She’s a strong woman, a fighter. He likes her.

“I’m glad she did. What’s your name, darling?” Magnus asks.

“A-Alec,” the man stutters, quirking a crooked smile.

“Oh, that’s a lovely name. I’m Magnus, but you probably already knew that,” he says and stretches out his hand. Alec’s is cold and bony in his own, but his grip is firm and the touch lingers for a long moment. He smiles shyly, and Magnus curses the butterflies storming his stomach. Really? After all this time, and then with a client?

“Um… will the others… will the women feel comfortable with me in the room?” Alec asks, nervously pinching the flesh between his thumb and pointer. Magnus squeezes his arm, hoping to ease the tension. Alec relaxes under the touch. Magnus can’t help but feel a little smug about it.

“Those who come are comfortable with me, so I doubt there’ll be any problems. We sometimes talk about personal stuff, which can be very intimate regarding why you all are here. But everything that happens in this room, stays in this room.”

“Like with Vegas,” Alec chuckles.

“Oh, nothing stays in Vegas, darling. No matter what they told you, we’re all chatterboxes. I could tell you stories from my time there,” Magnus smirks and gives him a wink.

“You were in Vegas?” Alec asks, curiosity lacing the words.

Magnus grins. “Yes, as a dancer.”

Alec’s mouth falls open. “I… I thought no dance experience is needed for this course. I haven’t busted a move in ages,” he stutters, eyes flickering through the room.

Magnus chuckles. “No worries, darling. I have a background as a professional dancer, but this here is more about natural movement and ensconcing oneself in one’s body. There is no wrong or right way to do it. It’s about feeling yourself, observing the movements inside and outwards, about being home in your own body.”

Alec huffs a mirthless laugh and runs a hand over his neck. “Yeah. I guess I could need that. Not sure if I’ll ever be.”

Magnus smiles at him warmly. “I’m sure you’ll make some progress.”

Alec nods. “Maybe I finally will… with your help,” he says, a blush spreading from the tip of his ears to under the neckline of his shirt. Magnus wonders where it ends, but he’s a professional, and he managed to go through one and a half years without falling for a patient, despite many trying to seduce him. He’s a natural flirt with everyone, but he’s not one to use people in vulnerable situations. His time of sleeping around with strangers is long gone. That was more self-harm than anything anyway. He’s good and has everything he needs. Still, Alec tickles his fancy in long-forgotten ways. But it surely is only a superficial crush. He’ll be over it soon.

Continue on ao3.