#anyway i am finally clearing out my ao3 inbox and someone who commented on one of my backdated to 2009 works was like

[ziskandra]

apropos of rereading one of my old old fanfics i am suddenly reminded of an even more ancient RP i did where franziska von karma tried to run kristoph gavin down with a shopping cart

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

I woke up this morning and saw I had a message in my inbox on AO3, presumably about by new fic, and was excited to see the feedback.

When I read what they wrote it was a small comment that said "stop using sudowrite".

Had no idea what that even means, so I had to look it up and found out it's some form of a writing AI.

Absolutely fuming.

I want to make something abundantly clear right now:

I have not been hand writing and editing all of my own stories, hundreds of pages worth of personally hand written or hand typed content for the past 16 years, only to get accused of using any form of lazy ass writing AI now.

This is what I love to do. For fun.

I put in a lot of unpaid time, creativity and energy into my writing and editing. The only thing I ask for in return is participation from the fandoms I love, be it via thoughtful feedback or valid criticisms.

But this is neither of those things. This is just an outright, baseless lie against the art that I have worked so hard to make myself, and I won't be undermined or discredited.

There's anger, and then there's whatever space I am occupying well past it right now.

It's infuriating to pour hours of my love, thought and creativity into original content only to have someone come out of nowhere and try to tell me I've been having an AI do it, especially 16 years deep.

Bitch please.

I also found out that app came out in 2020 . . . As I mentioned, I published my first K/S story in 2008 as Ruby JW on the K/S archives, and my first fanfic on fanfic.net was published in 2007 as luigi_is_stellar.

I invite anyone to peruse my decades-long collection of independent content that I have single-handedly accomplished well before such an app even existed, then come back to me and try to tell me that what I do here isn't authentic.

I don't usually get spicy, but when it comes to the art I spend hours writing and drawing independently with my own blood sweat and tears, yeah. I'm going to get spicy.

I do far too much unpaid work out of passion and love for this fandom to have such a serious accusation flung my way out of nowhere.

It's the first time in my 16 years of writing for this fandom that I've ever been accused of plagiarism, and you best trust and believe that I don't take that accusation lightly. I work too damn hard to let someone discredit the work I do personally in such a baseless manner.

Anyway, that was discouraging AF. I am boggled to learn that AI writing is even a thing, no less someone coming out of the woodwork to try to accuse me of using it 16 years into story publishing when I literally teach academic honesty and writing ethics in my line of paid work as an English professional.

Genuinely: Do you know who you're talking to?

A bit of background on me:

I come from a not-so-wealthy family who could not afford to pay to put me through school -- I paid for that all on my own. I had to earn my University English degree, one of four University degrees I hold on my own work and pay alone, without so much as a tutoring session or handout from home.

Not once would I have jeopardized everything I worked so hard and paid for out of my own pocket as a poor ass uni student working two jobs and doing night classes just to phone it in plagiarizing, not on one ounce of my work.

That was all me.

I've handwritten 3 MLA essays in under three hour exams BACK TO BACK, immediately followed by back-to-back Biology exams & a final lab where I ALSO had to write multiple essays and switch from MLA to APA mode within the span of 6 hours.

Those were all bound in handwritten yellow booklets well before we ever had Google Docs, Grammarly, formatting suggestions, or even regularly brought/had access to laptops in UNI. I did my work by hand.

I earned my degrees in English and Biology AT THE SAME TIME before I even turned 24. I earned a double major handwriting my own work papers like my life depended on it, and you actually think I'm about to phone it in now?

Step to me like that again, young blood. I ain't the one.😂

Anyway, I digress.

Ya girl ain't here to fight BC y'all know I tend to be very easygoing, full of humour, and I love to joke around in the fandom. I'm pretty wide open to opposing opinions or even criticisms. But this is unfounded slander, and I won't be taking that on the chin.

When it comes to my work, I take that very seriously, and I don't play around. My late father once told me that "The work you do and the degrees you earn are yours and yours alone, they can never take that education from you." I live by that sentiment, and have done so by putting forth honest work.

Be it paid or unpaid work, it's my work. Periodt.

It is an unfathomably disheartening and insulting message to receive as someone who writes all their own stuff themselves, draws all their own fanart themselves, does their own photo edits themselves, edits their writing themselves, and has never even used so much as a single outside beta reader/editor for my work. Not once. The art, the writing, the editing -- It's all me.

Bottom line:

Say you do or don't like my work, that's cash money and we good, whether it's your cup of tea or not.

Butt know that it is my work.

I will not put all of this free time, effort and love into my work only to be accused of lazily ripping the content that I have spent hours writing and personally editing from somewhere else.

And on that note, consider my PSA rant ended.

[recurring-polynya]

a little in love now and then, part 4/? | ao3 | ff.net |

Summary: Abarai  Renji doesn’t have a fortune, but he does appear to be in want of a  wife, at least in Lady Kuchiki’s opinion. Fortunately, Lady Kuchiki also  has a sister, and a woefully eligible one, at that. (itty bitty Hisana  Lived! AU)

Rating: T, for minor cussing

This time: A Turn About the Gardens, p1: Rukia considers her options and also Renji’s shoulders.

Older parts: | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 |

Rukia couldn’t believe her sister thought Abarai Renji was handsome.

The young men in Hisana’s social circle got their hairs cut individually, and carried parasols to maintain their pasty complexions, and would go home if they showed up to a party where someone else’s outfit looked too much like their own.

Abarai Renji’s nose had already been broken at least twice by the time he entered the Academy, and it had taken on an additional swerve to the left in the intervening years. He’d tried his best to tuck his unruly hair into a low ponytail, but the humidity was causing little strands of it to fuzz out and escape his headscarf to stick to his forehead. His skin was the dark tan of someone who spent everyday outside, weather-be-damned. Two of his fingers had that tell-tale look of having been reattached by some Fourth Squadder too close to the end of their shift. He had the build of an ox, if an ox liked to hit the gym in its spare time.

Obviously, Rukia thought he was maddeningly handsome, but she was well aware of how terrible her own taste was. He didn’t seem Sister’s type at all, though.

Right now, he was gazing around the garden as they strolled, hands clasped behind his back.

The most handsome thing about him, she thought to herself, without acknowledging what she was thinking, was the way he carried himself. The first time she had seen him and her brother together, it was clear they hadn’t quite figured out each other yet. But somewhere along the way, possibly on Sokyouku Hill, they had figured things out. Renji was respectful to Byakuya, sure, but he wore his rank comfortably, probably more comfortably than what was obviously his New Year’s haori, which looked like it could stand to be let out a little in the shoulder seams.

Rukia sucked her teeth, desperately trying to think of something to say to him. She should just make fun of him, really, get things back on the old familiar ground. Every joke that spring to mind just seemed too sharp, though, too mean.For possibly the first time in their acquaintance, Rukia worried about sticking him too deeply.

"So, er…" Renji decided to break the silence on his own. "Which ones are the orchids?"

Rukia abruptly forgot her fears. “You dummy. You moron.”

He just grinned at her, his shoulders twitching with silent laughter.

“Orchids are delicate flowers, and valuable, too. They are in the greenhouses, where no stray breeze or raindrop could ever cause them distress.”

“Ah. I see,” he replied, and she wondered if he did. “I’m a little new to this fancy stuff, you see.”

What was he playing at, anyway? “Look, you know why my sister invited you over, right?”

To her surprise, he honestly looked a little perplexed. “Seemed like she wanted me to meet you.” He paused for a long moment, as though he were weighing whether or not he wanted to say what he was thinking. Rukia wasn’t sure she liked that, a thoughtful Renji. She preferred a Renji whose brain was connected directly to his mouth. “It’s just that most people in this situation, I think, might be surprised to find out that you never mentioned to your sister that you knew me.” By “surprised” he meant “hurt”, of course, although she wasn’t quite sure if he was trying to tell her that he was hurt or reassuring her that he wasn’t. In the old days, it had always seemed very easy to tell him things without actually having to tell him anything, but now, she was having a lot of trouble getting a read on him. A guilty little voice in her head kept asking whether this had ever been an effective form of communication. He turned to look at her, a sly twinkle in his eye. “Then again, I think I had known you for about... seven years before you told me that Rukia wasn’t your real name, so I don’t really know what I was expecting.”

“It was awkward,” Rukia finally excused, defensively. “If I’d been around when Brother hired you, of course, I would have told her. I was kinda busy, if you may recall, and now, it’s so far past when I should have said something…”

“Well, it puts me in a bit of an awkward spot, too, you know,” Renji pointed out, mildly. He didn’t sound nearly as angry as he had a right to. “We used to coordinate these things. Are you plannin’ to tell her or you want to keep pretending to be strangers? That could be kinda fun, y’know, every time I see you, pretending we’ve never met before.”

“Oh, stop it,” Rukia scolded. “I’ll… figure out a way to tell her.” The problem was, of course, that she needed to get Hisana to lay off this matchmaking nonsense, and if Hisana found out they had been childhood friends, she would become an unstoppable force of nature, a huge, flaming Sokyouku firebird with hearts for eyes.

“So...why did your sister invite me over?” Renji asked curiously.

Rukia pretended to be interested in a patch of bearded iris. “A big part of being noble is socializing,” she explained. “It’s very exciting to invite a new person over, instead of the same old bores you’ve known for the last two hundred years. She’ll then go tell her friends about how delightful you were, and your inbox will be full of invitations to take tea with a bunch of other bored noble ladies. I don’t suppose you’re any good at mahjong? Good mahjong players are in such demand these days.”

“I am terrible at mahjong, as it happens.”

“Even better, probably.”

Renji regarded a plum tree. "Do you think we should slow down, then?"

“Sl--slow down?” Rukia spluttered.

Renji gave a too-obvious nod over his shoulder, where Hisana, Byakuya, and Touma were dawdling on the garden path behind them. “Your sister and brother-in-law are very good at walking slowly,” he observed dryly.

Rukia clenched her teeth at her sister’s horrifically obvious attempt to afford them privacy.

“But if the point is socializing--”

“No,” Rukia cut him off. “Sister would just find a way to walk even more slowly.”

“Wow,” Renji commented. “That would probably require some obscure branch of reverse-shunpou. Touma doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it very much.”

“I think he wants to be with me. Usually, I walk with him, so Brother and Sister can have a few minutes together,” Rukia explained, eager to divert the subject. “And he spends the entire time fussing because he wants to be with Brother.”

Renji gave her that inscrutable look again, and Rukia realized he was trying to figure her out. “If you like,” he finally said, “he could walk with us. I don’t mind.”

Rukia swallowed, then turned her head, and called back, “Sister, if Touma wants to walk with us, just let him!”

A relieved Hisana stopped trying to restrain her offspring, who barreled forward as fast as his chubby legs would propel him. Surprisingly, Rukia didn’t seem to be the person Touma was so desperate to see.

“Hello, there, Future Vice-Captain,” Renji greeted her diminutive nephew genially. “We meet on your territory today.”

Touma’s face screwed up, his nose wrinkling. “UP!” he demanded, in his most Kuchiki-like tone.

“And here I thought I was only good for top-spinning,” Renji grinned, tossing the boy up onto his shoulders. From his high perch, Touma beamed, the king of all he surveyed.

“He likes you,” Rukia murmured. Touma never warmed up to strangers. If they were lucky, he just tried to bury himself in Brother or Sister’s clothing. Otherwise, it was shouting. Rukia cleared her throat. “‘Up’ is new, I think. I haven’t heard him use ‘up’ before.”

“He’s a nice kid,” Renji replied, purposefully lurching dramatically from side to side while Touma squealed with delight.

“He’s my nephew and I love him, but he’s a terror,” Rukia pointed out. “His nurse is probably lying down in her room with a cold cloth over her eyes right now.”

“Can’t be more trouble than his pop,” Renji singsonged under his breath as he paused to let Touma pull at the leaves of a maple.

Suddenly, for the first time, Rukia let herself indulge in Hisana’s scheming. “The best way to avoid getting married off is to marry yourself off first.” Renji was a hundred times better than those spoiled noble sons that usually came around to tea. Hisana and Touma had obviously fallen to his charms, and even Byakuya seemed to tolerate him. Renji had been her friend once, as close as friends could be, really. Would it kill her to… consider it? He really did have nice arms.

“Rukia?” Renji was regarding her curiously.

“What?” she demanded, testily.

“Your face is bright red. Are you okay?”

Rukia took a deep breath through her nose. “I fibbed before,” she blurted out quickly. “My sister is… matchmaking. That’s why she invited you here.”

Renji froze, until Touma yanked on a piece of his hair with particular vigor. “Ow! Ow, buddy, that’s attached!”

“She’s such a romantic. If I told her we were old childhood friends, there’d be no talking her out of it,” Rukia muttered.

Renji had extracted Touma from his hair and was now carrying him upside down and pretending this was a natural and normal way to carry a child.

“Pardon my ignorance of the details,” he said slowly, “but aren’t you a little out of my league?”

“My stock has gone down lately,” Rukia shrugged. “I was already looked down on for being adopted, and almost getting executed didn’t do me any favors.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “And that’s sort of the point. Sister doesn’t want to see me married off for political gain, so she’s got it in her head to find me someone I like, and get the Elders to sign off on it at a time when they’d just as soon get rid of me.”

“Oh,” Renji replied. Then, very slowly, he said, “And your sister thought you’d like me?”

“Well, she likes you,” Rukia replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “I hardly know you.”

Renji put Touma down on the path, and the boy ran ahead to the bridge over the koi pond. “It took seven weeks the first time.”

Rukia blinked. “What did?”

“For you to like me. When we first met, you saved my life, me and the guys, and we split some water with you. You started hanging out with us almost immediately, but I could tell you didn’t like me. Seven weeks later, I made a humorous remark about a mutual acquaintance, and you laughed so hard you snorted. That’s when I knew. That you liked me, that is.”

“It was Haneda Kousuke, and you said his face looked like a butt that had been sat on too long,” Rukia cackled, unable to keep from cracking up as she said it.

Renji couldn’t help grinning either. “I was trying to be polite, up here in fancy-land.”

His eyes caught Rukia’s, and for a moment, no time had passed. He was her best friend again, her comfort, her confidant, the other half of her soul. “Never,” she exhorted him. “Not when it’s just you and me.”

And then her cheeks were burning and she was looking away, embarrassed. She glanced back at him out of the corner of her eye, and he was just looking down at her fondly. “I was hoping maybe it wouldn’t take seven weeks this time,” he said softly. “But I can wait for as long as you need.”

Rukia swallowed against her dry throat, and took a long time of pulling a stale piece of bread out of her sleeve and breaking it into bits for Touma to toss to the koi.

“I did want to see you again,” she finally admitted. “It’s nice to see you, is what I mean. I’m sorry to get you caught up in Sister’s grand schemes.” Touma scampered off and tossed the entire handful of crumbs into the pond, wholesale. Rukia sighed. “I’ll tell her the truth about… you know. How we are. I promise.” She tossed a crumb into the pond, and watched, glumly, as the koi preferred to jostle for Kouma’s cluster bomb over her lowly offering.

Suddenly, there was a much larger hand cupping her own. Rukia stared at it stupidly as Renji pinched out a few of her bread crumbs. Did he linger just a moment longer than necessary, before crouching down next to her nephew? “One at a time, pal,” he said gently, tossing out a crumb and holding out his hand for Touma to do the same.

Touma tried to grab the rest of Renji’s handful, but Renji closed his fingers around it. “One. Who taught you about patience? Your auntie?” He opened his hand again, and, scowling, Touma extracted a single crumb. Renji tilted his head up toward Rukia. “It would be good to get our stories straight, I think,” he said, “but maybe you should hold off on explainin’ to your sister ‘how we are’ until we get that figured out ourselves, eh?”

Rukia’s cheeks burned. “Did you hear the part where she wants you to marry me, you dummy?”

Renji tossed another crumb into the pond. “I heard it.” He didn’t say anything further.

“Oh,” was all Rukia could think to say.

[prodigalsonheadcanons]

Need your advice! Recently I started posting on Ao3 again and I've been receiving a lot of negative and condescending comments, not even about my writing or skills, but of the general content I guess (I write h/c) and it really makes me insecure and not want to post...but also I want to write? Have you ever dealt with this kind of negativety before? What should I do?

I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve had this experience. Unfortunately, it is one I’m also familiar with. I can definitely give you some advice!!

Let me preface this reply first…there are some types of work floating around this fandom that are problematic. For multiple reasons. I don’t know what content you’re writing and I’m not making assumptions at all. But I do want to say that if you write problematic things…you’re going to get a problematic response, and in that case, the negative comments are understood, if not appreciated. I’m not saying this is your case at all, but if it is, that’s an entirely different ask. Going forward, I’ll assume you’re steering clear of those types of fics. Which I hope is the case.

But anyway! Long rant under the cut because I have a lot of strong feelings about this topic. I hope some of it makes sense.

Negative comments are horrible, and they’re made even worse when they’re layered with sarcasm. I myself, do not understand them. An age-old saying for fics is an age-old saying for a reason: if you don’t like a story (you don’t like that ship, you don’t like the route they took, whatever) then don’t read! There’s a back button for a reason. Criticism, I understand as long as it’s constructive. As someone who loves to write and get better at it, nudges here and there (positive ones) are appreciated!! But it has to be constructive. Blind, hateful comments are only meant to wound— not to teach. Not to support. And they’re honestly ridiculous, and I’m very sorry you’ve experienced them so much.

I have yet to experience that in this fandom, actually! (Knock on wood) But when I wrote for Deception, I did receive comments like those. Long, scathing, sarcastic, comments that just went on and on. Tearing my entire story’s premise into little pieces and telling me a work I was very proud of wasn’t worth their time. I even got a comment from someone that just straight up said something along the lines of ‘I’m not going to read this anymore.’ Like…great!? Just do it, don’t tell me! (They hadn’t even reviewed a single chapter before that one either so I was like: Am I Supposed To Miss You Not Reviewing???)

Honestly, they destroyed my confidence as a writer. Those comments are why I hesitate over everything I post now, and they’re the reasons I spend hours researching, when the thing I’m researching for is only mentioned in passing, to make sure there’s nothing anyone can point out or complain about being wrong. I’m very insecure about my writing, too— even my headcanons. From the beginning I was insecure, but that experience stuck in my mind and had made me even more so. But I will try and let you know what helps me.

They say it takes about seven compliments to outweigh something negative, and that’s very true for comments. I would try and focus on the good ones you do have, and read and reread those. Remember a few of your favorites so you have ones to look back on and smile about. Know that you’re doing your best as a fanfic writer and that you don’t owe anyone anything!! You are working your tail off to make free content for no payoff but making other people happy, and that’s amazing!

Find some writer friends! Or just supportive friends in general! I just say a writer friend because they might understand and might be able to help. If you need a writer friend, my inbox is always open c: There’s always the chance you could find a silver lining to their horribleness. You could try and find out the root of the problem they’re complaining about— not to blame yourself but purely just to try and get something out of their comment. If they’re just being nasty to be nasty, though, it’s a difficult thing to do, and oftentimes there’s nothing to be gleaned from it no matter how hard you try. But if you do manage to get something, then it’s not such a waste. Slightly.

Finally, my biggest piece of advice, and my best piece of advice…be kind to them. If you do reply to them and give them the time of day (which is much more than they deserve in the first place and sometimes just deleting it is the better option), be sweet. Be so polite in your reply, because here’s the best thing about it. People too often forget there is another person on the other side of their computer screen— someone real, with feelings that can be hurt just as easily as theirs. It’s just something about the internet that takes away that aspect of interaction. So oftentimes, when you don’t feed into their anger by immediately replying just as much so, it makes them stop and reconsider their actions. And if you’re polite and nice, there’s no way for them to fire back at you or continue to leave such comments without looking completely stupid (even more stupid, anyway). So it’s good on both ends.

And readers, honestly, if you see those types of comments, you can step in and call them out! It would mean so much to any writer to see someone stand up for their work. When you receive a negative comment and nobody speaks out against it, you eventually begin to think it’s an opinion shared by the entire fandom and turn you off of that fandom entirely. So to show support for them is a very big thing. Don’t feel weird. I swear to you, it will make that author’s day.

That’s my long rant! I’m so sorry you’ve been experiencing that and I’m so sorry if none of this helped at all, haha. Negative comments are going to come around once in a while (words cannot express how much I am dreading them) and they’re unfortunately just something we have to work around. It’s not easy, so you should definitely reach out for support if you can find some! Maybe if you told me the specific ways they’re talking down to you or their issues with the content I could fine-tune my reply with a more specific answer. But this is just…a couple tips in general! Reread other, nicer comments. Try your absolute best to figure out some silver lining. Always be kind, because in your heart you understand that what they’re doing is wrong. If you meet them with kindness, you’ll know you’ve kept yourself at the level you already were: above them. If nothing else, at least you’ll have that.

Reviews should be constructive, if they contain criticism. The advice should be hidden in praise for what the author was already doing right, so they know their entire work isn’t ‘wrong.’ But…c’mon. Unless it’s something huge or glaring…fanfic writers don’t get as much response as other people typically in the first place, in most fandoms. If you’re going to hand out anything, just hand out support. Because that’s what you would want to be handed to you, if you were on the other end.  

[gothic--fairy]

prompt: magnus having a nightmare? maybe about his childhood or whatever, and alec being a good boyfriend?????? snd comforting him??

I’ll Be There to Bring You Back

Malec Drabble #18

Magnus always loved water. There was something calming about the way it flowed around his fingers, softly caressing his skin and making the hot weather so much more bearable. He could spend hours watching the way it glimmered when the morning sun shone through the waves, reaching the river bottom and reflecting on the smooth rocks. Somehow nothing else mattered then and he was as peaceful as the water. The fire within him, the despair, anger and all those awful feelings were gone when water calmed his nerves.

But not today. This time water was his enemy, the tool in someone else’s hands to hurt him, to kill him. There were arms that coiled around him, pushed his head down under the stream. Fingers were threaded through his hair, tugging and pulling so he could not escape as he struggled against the strong muscles. Cold water was slowly filling up his nose, burning his lungs and he tried to open his mouth to scream, to make somebody help him. But there was no one to hear him, no one to save the demon child.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to weep and destroy. He only wanted them to love him, accept him, only wanted to be good enough for once. But he knew they’d never take him as their own. Not with his eyes, not with his powers. He didn’t know where did they come from or how to control them but he knew he had to save himself.

And there was the fire again. The fire that burned through his soul. He was on the edge of consciousness, the air that was left in his lungs being quickly pushed out by the water but something else awoke inside of him. Something bad, but something that would make him live.

And this time..

Only this time..

He let it all out.

Closing his eyes, he felt the magic surge through his veins until it reached the tip of his fingers and the river around him exploded. He was free now, the arms that held him down were gone and he broke through the surface of the water, finally able to breathe again. But there was no time to spare. The demon wanted more than just to save him.

He wanted blood.

Magnus felt his own body move towards the land, his fingers digging into the soft muddy soil and his feet scrambling to get him upwards. There was rage screaming at the back of his mind and he couldn’t stop himself, had to keep on going.

Walking towards his stepfather that was crouching on the ground, barely alive himself, Magnus felt as his palms lit up and his surroundings were suddenly covered in blue light, sparkling in the dimness. His legs were moving on their own and it made him scared, made him frightened of his own abilities. Doesn’t matter how much his stepfather hurt him, how much he hated him, Magnus didn’t want to kill him. He didn’t want to prove everyone what a monster he is.

But his body had other plans. His control was gone and he could only watch as one of his arms lift up from beside his body and his trembling fingers started reaching towards his stepfather’s unconscious body. Tears started rolling down his cheeks and he heard the sobs leaving his lips but he couldn’t fight against the force that flew through his fingers.

The whole world was suddenly covered in flames.

Magnus screamed at the top of his lungs, the image of a burning body still in front of him. He knew he was losing control, he knew he had to get away before anyone found him, before they would see that they were right all along. He was the demon child.

“No..” he wept, clenching his teeth to stop them from chattering and covering his head with his hands. “I didn’t mean to.. I didn’t want to hurt him..”

He was cold. He was so cold and still lost but then out of nowhere there were two arms around him again. He wanted to fight them but he was too weak, too scared to struggle anymore. They may take him. They may kill him now. He deserves it.

“Magnus!” a voice called into his ear. But who did it belong to? Magnus couldn’t tell. And it didn’t matter anyway, they were there only to hurt him.

“Magnus, please.. It was just a dream. I’m here, you’re okay.” he thought he should know that voice as the arms tightened their hold on him and he could feel the warmth of a chest pressed against his back and a hand gently sweeping away his tears.

“Alexander?” he called out quietly, succumbing into the comforting embrace and the smell of sandalwood around him. He was safe.

“Shhh.. it’s okay.” Alec whispered against his hot and sweaty skin, rocking them back and forth.

Magnus felt tired and weak, as if there was no more energy left in his body. He stopped fighting and let the sobs sound in the darkness of their room as he trembled in Alec’s arms.

“I killed him..” he wailed, breathing fast and heavy. “I killed him!”

He tried covering his face with his hands but Alec made him stop, made him look into his eyes. Those eyes. Those bright blue eyes that shone and glimmered even in the dark, just like the stream of the river that Magnus used to love.

“Who, Mags? Who did you kill? It was only a dream. I didn’t happen.”

“It did. I killed him. My stepfather. I am a monster, don’t you see?” There was another wave of tears falling down onto the inky runes on Alec’s arms and shoulders where Magnus curled into Alec’s body, trying to hide from his own guilt-driven thoughts.

“No, no, no.. look at me, Magnus.” Alec lifted his face again to lock their eyes in the small space. “You’re not a monster. It was not you, you couldn’t control it.”

“I’m afraid I could. I unleashed it, I made it happen! I lost the control..”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter now.” Alec said, looking deep into the golden and green eyes that stared at him in such horror, disgust and fear. “You were a child then. You’re not a monster, Mags. And I will never see you as one, I promise.”

As if the meaning of those words finally reached Magnus’ heart, the weeping stopped and he let himself fall against Alec once more, still shaking slightly.

“Please, don’t leave me.” came a whisper so soft that Alec almost didn’t hear it, almost thought he’d only imagined it.

“Never.” he answered anyway, closing his eyes and placing a kiss into Magnus’ hair. “Doesn’t matter what happens. Whenever you lose control, I’ll be there to bring you back.”

Hey, guys! Hope you enjoyed this short fic. I am trying my hardest to get back into uploding prompts on regular basis again. I would like to have my inbox clear of all the older prompts by the time the third season is coming out so wish me luck, haha! 

I am sorry if you sent me a prompt and I haven’t answered it yet. I was really busy these past few months and couldn’t write at all. But I am taking prompts again, yay! 

Feel free to leave a comment or share this.

Read on Ao3.

Prompt Me/Ask Me.