✸ FUTILE DEVICES ✸ 

You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and
he won't tell you that he loves you,
but he loves you.

And you feel like you've done something terrible,
like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills,
or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt,
and you're tired.

 You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and
you're trying not to tell him that you love him,
and you're trying to choke down the feeling,
and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you,
like a prayer for which no words exist, 

and you feel your heart taking root in your body,
like you've discovered something you didn't even have a name for.

You are Jeff, Richard Siken.

The moment you took your first breath, you were damned. 

Under the watchful gaze of cosmos that had witnessed the rise and fall of great empires, destiny watched in horror as your father cradled your frail body in your arms and whispered in your ears, You will be my weapon. Words of poison permeating into you and sealing your fate. He named you, Romulus, an ode to the legendary founder. An echo of an ambitious dream, destined to carve his name into history. 
Carved out of molten gold and bathed in ichor, tell me Child of Lucifer, Beautiful Angel, is the burden of destruction choking you?  

You sealed your fate permanently when your father saw the blood on your hands, when he saw the violence piercing through your eyes. Shards of emerald peeking through wisps of moonlight hair, you will live up to your name and become your father's greatest creation of blood and bones. You are trapped in this cage, there's no getting out. You are meant for destruction. You are meant for the divinity that weaves through your ivory bones. You are meant for the agony that travels through your celestial blood. Burning and pulsing, Divine Morning Star, you are made for glory.

Roman's earliest memories were a loop of a broken film reel ━ a house adorned with peach roses, soft auburn strands wrapped around his fingers gleaming gold in the sunlight, black eyes that were hardened with a shield of determination and cruelty, these memories were all he had and that feeling of abandonment that clung to him like a shadow as his bloodline slipped away from him, his family tree dwindling down to embers.
He was left under scrutinizing eyes, under the vexed gazes that wanted the blood of his creator. He would've been exiled immediately but they realized that if they could tame the very divine being that their greatest enemy was making for annihilation and turn him into their own asset, Who's having the last laugh now?
A loyal soldier who was willing to die for them during battle. A dog that would keep coming back no matter how many times they kicked him. A muzzle around his mouth, his jaw wired shut.

Roman Morgenstern was content with his fate. He was reduced to being a dog for them. Reduced to moving at their beck and call. But if it meant that he could keep surviving, he was content. Simply being permitted to exist is enough for loyal dogs to be content. But was he really though? Did he really not feel the beast named Anger clawing his insides with its jagged nails? Does he not feel the jaws of rage latching its teeth onto his neck? Does he not feel the urge to wrap the very chains around the necks of those, who used them to shackle him? Does he not feel the violence in his blood? Does he truly not feel anger towards his father any more? 

Lies. Lies. Lies. LIES.
SWEET MOURNING LAMB, YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE YOUR FATHER'S BLOOD. 
You are bound to suffer for the sins he committed. You are bound to face the hatred directed at him. After all, you are your father's eldest child. His Golden Boy. 
Which is why you lay on the ground, your blood painting the ground in a mournful red. The knife slices your skin loose, the blade plunging into your gut, your chest, your arms, your heart. There was not an area they wanted to forgive. Yout father slaughtered their family so they would slaughter you. You can never escape your father's blood. You can never escape his sins. 

The virtuoso whose eyes sparkled like supernovas on the velvet night had died. But he survived. He always did. You would have to be the biggest fool in the world if you think that Roman Morgenstern would go down without creating a carnage that would make warm scarlet blood drip from the knife in his hand like a chain of rubies. Anger had attached its ugly violent body onto him. He wanted blood. He wanted to taste his father's blood. He wanted his father to pay for ripping his childhood away from his rosy hands and thrusting a sword onto those gentle palms. He wanted his father to pay for the sleepless nights he endured, memories attacking him each time he closed his eyes. He wanted his father to pay for the violence inflicted upon him because of his last name, his lineage. Roman needed to keep this anger in him burning in order to stay alive. If he lets go of this anger, this pain, what does he have?

You have me. 

Two pairs of hands reach into the storm that surrounds him, ignoring the burning pain of his misery. Understanding eyes and gentle hands that offer him a home, a sanctuary for his wounded soul. It's okay, I'll take care of you. You have me. Even if the world is against you, you have me. The hot blood that had been searing in his veins for years cools down at the comfort that two people brought him. They looked at him as if he spun the amber sun with threads of gold and crafted the marzipan moon himself. They look at him and see a lost boy with honey-rose cheeks and wilted violets under his jade eyes. Not a war machine, not a child of Lucifer, not a sinner, they just saw Roman. 

Roman could never confess that the love he felt for them was larger than the anger that he had been nurturing since he was a child. That the love he felt, weaved through all the wounded and poisoned parts of him and caressed the open wounds with a gentle touch. It struck a feeling in him so haunting, an eldritch realization that a heathen like him could worship these beings that were akin to gods in his eyes. That the promises of destruction and glory that were made to be his religion had changed to the outlines of their faces, every scar, every mark, every dip, etched into his memory.

But he never confessed that. Instead, he took their hands in a silent embrace, the tempest within him subsiding. No words passed between them, there was no need for it. Silence in the air echoing of an understanding of unspoken truths. Words are just futile devices anyway. 

Callum Turner as  
Romulus Roman Nathaniel Morgenstern
THE FALLEN ANGEL ✸ Angel's Trumpet ━ Divine Revelation 
I am creation, both haunted and holy.

Pylades : I'll take care of you.
Orestes : It's rotten work.
Pylades : Not to me. Not if it's you.

THE WARLOCK
Magnus Bane ✸ Acorn ━━ Immortality
All power demands sacrifice and pain.

Eurydice : Let go of me.
Orpheus : Never. 

THE ARCHER
Alexander Alec Gideon Lightwood ✸ Daphne ━ Don't Change
Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

 ©SWALLOWTAIL             2024

DISCLAIMER
i do not own the the mortal instrument series or shadowhunters, all rights go to freeform and cassandra clare. i only own my oc's along with their plotlines. this story will contain topics regarding blood, murder, gore, trauma, self-harming tendencies, ptsd, substance abuse, vulgar language and undiagnosed mental illness. steamy scenes will be included but no smut!!

credit for callum's gifs go to drogonstone and breakfastonuranus on tumblr. credit for the psd goes to breewaffle on deviantart. 

THEA'S CORNER <3

roman morgenstern, my number one boy.
you are so, not strong enough by boygenius coded!!

✸roman has dyed brown hair cuz with his natural hair, he's said to look like his father a lot and he doesnt like that!! so he dyes it brown. after season 1, he stops dying it tho. like ofc, he has white hair and trauma. 
book!valentine had blonde hair but show!valentine didnt so we can pretend he went bald with age <33 also cuz, blonde callum turner you are sooo *chewing drywall*

✸ i'm aware that the show wasn't the best but as a kid which is when i really got into writing and stuff, the show meant a lot to me. really i'm just writing this fic cuz i have had roman in my drafts since 2019 and he means a lot to to me just for me to never write him again. i put a lot of work and research behind my oc's, especially in settings where supernatural/fantasy is an option, so i never really want to let that hard work go to waste. also malec, i loved malec sm. so, this book will follow the show with some influences from the series and some au.

✸ valentine experimented on him with angel blood so my boy has prophetic visions (amongst other stuff) but unlike clary's that she gets sometimes, he gets them quite often, most of them are through dreams. also, the angel blood impacted him negatively where it burns him all the time. most of the times, its a gentle bearable one but it has its moments where its HIGH. there's so much influence from preacher's daughter in him.
also, no clary bashing!! yeah she has her moments but leave my girl alone!! 

✸ this is an alec lightwood x oc x magnus bane fanfic meaning its a polyamorous relationship. if u have a problem with that um, the door is that way → 🚪
roman really said, why should he choose when he can just...hold both their hands ✨ with that being said, if i get anything wrong or offensive, please feel free to let me know!!
ALSO, they're a slow burn couple so it will be a WHILE. initially they're a, not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing (so devoted the lines blur). i'll sprinkle in some longing gazes, being too close for friends, friends don't look at each other that way, way too protective of each other, until they get together.
btw, the moodboards??? i'm very proud of myself for those.

✸ their relationship is very : 
you return like autumn and i fall every time / did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? / maybe we can figure out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometimes / affectionate bullying / its rotten work. not to me. not if its you. / what if i rubbed my face on you like a cat cuz i love you? huh? what then? / watch out bro...next thing you know i'm gonna be peeling an orange and sharing it slice by slice with you / he is half my soul, as the poets say / love my boyfriends to the point of burning down the world for them / "i could fix him" and i could make him beg like a whore/i could beat his ass. / all along, there was some invisible string, tying you to me. / all of them have two hands for a reason. 

✸ also english is not my first language. so i may struggle w grammar and stuff like that, pls be gentle if u spot any mistakes. i cannot begin to express how excited i am for this book and i hope i get to write them and don't abandon them. if you're reading this, thank you SO SO much and i hope u have a good day <33