DarknessXAnime

     The warmth of the dimly-lit fire, the scent of a baking pastry , and the commodity of my seat by the flames inspired dream-like scenarios and greater gods than my own.    Homey feelings scribbled down, described in such a manner, they could suck in the reader like a movie. Bring to their hands, worlds so surreal and Desired escapes from the cruel realities in which we live.      And as the warmth of the fired powered me, I wrote and wrote, I wrote all for those words who would , one day, be someone's escape. For that is my job as a  writer, to create those beautiful, breathtaking fantasies and make them re

Has it always been this way? Since when have we lost ourselves to this? All that we do revolves over a simple thing, a single, simple thing. A consuming, single, simple thing, Used for everything, that contains everything. From good to bad, from useful to useless, and yet we don't care, and yet we rely on it so heavily. It moves us, our social life, our plans, and our thoughts. It can be used to express who we are, to gather what we like. It holds everything. It knows everything. It's also filled with lies and half-truths, Inaccuracy and plagued with dangers one doesn't want to speak of. It's facilitates communication

Four hours. It should have been four hours ago that Alexander Lightwood should have stepped through the door of the High Warlock's flat in Brooklyn, prepared for their date. But still, he wasn't there. Magnus gave up sending his boyfriend text messages because he didn't got any answers from the other seven yet, so this would be a waste of his free texts. Sighing, he stood up from the pink couch where he waited most of the time, heading for the bedroom to change his clothes. They had planned to have a nice dinner at an Ifrit restaurant in Brooklyn, so Magnus was dressed in formal black trousers, a white shirt with an elegant golden bowtie a

"You look good." Magnus said to his boyfriend when he entered the room. Alec looked down at himself, at the black suit he wore, highlighted with a green yellow tie that matched Magnus's eyes, while Magnus's tie matched the color of Alec's. "Thanks." He answered, pacing to the warlock and adjusting his tie because it hung a bit loosely "You do too." "It's a great day for wedding." Watching out of the window, Alec saw what Magnus was referring to. It was indeed a lovely day. The blue sky was dotted with small clouds but the sun avoided them expertly, shining with all of its power and fresh breezes made the green leaf dance. Alec walked over

If you could collect perfection and mold it like clay, creating the most beautiful and perfect person imaginable, that person wouldn't be Alexander Lightwood. However, to Magnus, that imperfection was what made Alec perfect. That imperfection also meant that there was room for Magnus to improve him, using things like glitter and eyeliner to do so. At the moment, however, that imperfection didn't exist to Magnus as he and Alec walked down the dark street next to a calm river, its surface reflecting the moon like glass. Street lamps flickered above like extra stars. They only illuminated the sidewalk about five feet around Alec and Magnus, and

Alec's POV "Ready?" "Do I look ready?" Magnus was leaning very close to the mirror in our bathroom, closing his right eye and penciling on dark eye-liner. He was wearing fitted black slacks and a purple button up silk shirt, which was currently un-tucked. He had already spiked his thick hair at impossible angles. "Well…" I started, but knew it didn't matter whether I finished my sentence or not. Apparently he was not yet ready for our night in Venice (though I wasn't so sure that I was ready, either). Without my consent, Magnus had decided I was going to wear black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a buttoned black vest. And so I was.