#but. i'm allowed to take a break. from thinking about Things.

[ifyouencounterwolf]

Normalize this normalize that, we as writers and ARTISTS need to normalize NOT to see any critiques/negative feedback of our WORKS as a critique of OURSELVES.

When your work is finished and posted, it is done. It marks the end of a unique creative process and is now by and large independent from you. No matter how much of a magnus opus you think of it, you will be creating something better in the near future. So how would that posted work serve you now? By getting the FEEDBACKS from your readers.

How did that make others feel? Did it do the job of disturbing people or comforting people that you have intended it to do? Do people feel something unintended from your work? Do people feel anything from your work? Those are things as authors, we needed to know about, in order to know more about ourselves, and that's not just about our current skill levels.

Believe it or not, there's no inherently bad feedback, the negative ones are not inherently different from positive ones. They are all. just. feedback. They don't define you as a person, they are not attacking you as a person. Even with the worst kind "I hate this so much hope you kys" you could either ignore or ask how they hate it and where do they hate the most. Hate supply is still supply as my narc self would say.

That is, unless you are creating something for money and engagement/attention, and getting criticized will destroy your so-called celebrity fame and break the illusion that you are a prodigy and you don't need efforts to improve like everyone else on this planet earth. But sis, that's your problem.

Writing is a way of communication and forming a discussion, conversations cannot happen if either side is not allowed to speak freely. That goes for both the bad readers who demand authors to stop writing certain topics that disturb them, and bad writers who demand special treatment from the world simply because they created something for free and they thought they have a certain moral superiority to the "free-loaders".

Yes. You did create something for free and you didn't ask for the criticism. But you did that out of love and passion didn't you? Because as human beings, we are privileged to have this creative mind and this desire to express ourselves through our artworks, we live inside our own world but sometimes we want others to take a look at it and therefore we write something or we draw something and they reflect our thoughts and experiences and imaginations.

So what do our readers owe us? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

No one had this moral obligation to only make compliments and really really really mild suggestions and they still have to live in fear thinking whether the authors are still going to get offended because they interpreted "Looking forward to updates" as a demand or "I thought I wouldn't like it but I did" as a jeer.

Damn, if I'm a reader I would just say FORGET IT. I like it or I don't like it, who cares about my opinion? One wrong word would get me in fandom jail.

Except we do fucking care. Do you know what a purgatory I'm living in when I wrote my heart and soul out and people are just not going to leave anything for me to know how I did?

The readers' silence and uncaring to artists is a much more cruel punishment than their hate.

We have talked so much about "don't like it don't click" as a gotcha for the readers, but how about "don't like it but still give it a chance and tell me about it even if you still don't like it"? Because I trust you as my audience, that you have sufficient levels of media literacy and you have good tastes, and you can engage with artworks responsibly... THAT'S WHY I POSTED IT.

I could have just shown my stuff to only a small friend circle and let them be the judge but I chose to put it out there. Because I wanted it to stir up something so I could engage in conversations with people who only know me through my work and I would prefer it to stay that way. If the conversation is just about my typos and my grammar be it that way. It's still better than nothing.

That being said, we should not make it a consensus that readers need to give only compliments or just shut up. We should make authors themselves decide whether they wanted to be criticized or not. Authors can absolutely set up boundaries on how their works should be engaged, authors could say that "I want feedback but please don't nitpick my grammar or typo" or "this is personal to me/I am a first time writer so please be more gentle with your feedback".

But if you don't say anything then consider your work a free game if you may. See who catches the most of your hidden details and symbolism and see who asks the most annoying questions. Damn. As a writer that would actually be my dream.

not to be controversial bc I know this is like…not in line with shifting opinions on fanfic comment culture but if there’s a glaring typo in my work I will NOT be offended by pointing it out. if ao3 fucks up the formatting…I will also not be offended by having this pointed out…

‘looking forward to the next update’ and ‘I hope you update soon!’ are different vibes than a demand, and should be read in good faith because a reader is finding their way to tell you how much they love it. I will not be mad at this.

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ is also incredibly high praise. I’m not going to get mad at this.

even ‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ is just another way a reader is engaging in and putting thought into your work.

I just feel like a lot of authors take any comment that’s not perfectly articulated glowing praise in the exact manner they’re hoping to receive it in bad faith.

fic engagement has been dropping across the board over the last several years, and yes it’s frustrating but it isn’t as though I can’t see how it happens. comment anxiety can be a real thing. the last thing anyone wants to do is offend an author they love, and that means sometimes people default to silence.

idk where I’m going with this I guess aside from saying unless a comment is outright attacking me I’m never going to get mad at it, and I think a lot of authors should feel the same way. ESPECIALLY TYPOS PLZ GOD POINT OUT MY TYPOS.

[streamsofmoon]

suggestive | v x f!reader

synopsis: pizza delivery guy likes you. then pizza delivery guy sees vi. pizza delivery guy stands no chance.

cw: a creepy-esque dude for the sake of the plot.

the pizza delivery guy is ecstatic when he's given his next order. ecstatic because it was your address, one that he has seen many a time. especially on late nights when you're bone-deep tired, barely managing a smile as he hands you your food.

but goodness, your smile still shines. it's gorgeous and radiant. makes the butterflies flutter violently in his stomach. because your smile and your everything is what he's been looking for.

and he's aware it's odd, bordering on creepy, that he's falling for a customer. knows that this can never cross into anything remotely seriously. but he's allowed to dream and wonder; he's allowed his daydreams where he bumps into you on the street and makes you laugh. where he asks you out, and you say yes, all demure as you peer up at him through those lashes.

he's allowed to think about fucking you and about how sweet you'd sound as you take his—

the imagery is getting too vivid, and he can't make your delivery with a visible tent. Not after the near mishap from a few weeks ago.

he pulls up to your place and goes to ring the buzzer. but luckily, someone's coming out, so he decides not to bother you, making his way onto the elevator and selecting your floor. he's already thinking about seeing your beautiful face; if you'd be tired from today's work or lively from a day of solid rest.

maybe you'll be wearing that tank top that hugs your breasts so nicely, thin enough to showcase your peaked nipples.

fuck, he needs to calm down.

he knocks on your door three times when he arrives, waiting patiently as he hears shuffling from behind it. he quickly fixes his hair, ensures he looks presentable, and plasters on a smile when he hears the door's lock click.

he expects to see you but is surprised when he's shown someone else.

she's strong, is the first thing he notices, with her arms bare with well-toned muscle. she's also beautiful with her pink hair and blue eyes. but most importantly, she looks intimidating; absolutely terrifying.

"thanks," she says, her scarred lips curving into a half smile. she smoothly takes it from his hands, all while he's staring wide-eyed at her. "do i owe you anything?"

his mind scrambles for a response because what is going on? didn't you live here? did you move out suddenly? and now have been replaced by a wonderfully strong and gorgeous woman who can break him in half?

but then all his questions are answered when you hop into the scene. like a ray of sun on a cloudy day, you appear beside the woman and smile happily at him.

"oh hey, nice to see you!" you greet genuinely, and he would have eagerly gobbled that up if it wasn't for the state of you.

you're beautiful as always, but there's something different. your hair's a little messy, you look a little flustered, and there's a slight tremble to your frame. you're covered, almost teasingly, by an oversized shirt, which reveals one of your shoulders. a rounded shoulder that holds bite marks and lead up to the curve of your neck that is covered in similar markings and hickeys and—

oh.

oh.

"vi, i'm hungry," you whine cutely, tugging at her arm to pull her inside. "gimme the pizza." you grab at the box, gifting the man a glorious split second where your shirt raises up to show off your thighs.

your slightly slick thighs.

oh.

"coming, baby," vi coos, smiling softly as she watches you disappear into the apartment. she then turns back to him and that soft smile turns sharp and deadly.

"watch your eyes next time." vi says, clearly a threat before she's closing the door in his face.

pizza delivery guy stares at the door, dejected and, very much, frightened.

[unknown-ends]

I almost forgot to tell you guys:

I dreamt of non-mc, orange tabby hybrid!reader following Zayne to work and essentially becoming an emotional support cat for the staff, but specifically for Zayne because he's their favorite. The rest is under the cut cause it got quite long (I might end up writing it)

This happens a little bit after he meets mc again as her physician. He's shocked that Tabby (that's what I'm gonna call reader) is so friendly with him because animals usually run away from him. Tabby follows him to work, after letting him pet them for a bit, meowing as if they were having a conversation while they walked. And when he makes it to Akso hospital he crouches to say goodbye and pets their head before walking in.

It becomes a habit, sometimes Tabby walks him to work, other times they don't. Until one day they decide to just walk in, climb one of the desks and situate themselves where people could see them and easily pet them. It's perfect, because they get to see Zayne come in and leave, they get food and treats, it's warm and everybody loves them.

They decide to start roaming the halls, follow Zayne around when he goes to see the kids and offer some emotional support for them. Everyone pitches in to get Tabby a collar, and they do a little makeshift ceremony when they put it on.

Naturally, Tabby meets mc after a while– she's Zayne's patient after all– and while they like her at first, they are quick to realize Zayne has a thing for them when they notice the way he softens with her. Cue marking territory, the moment they see mc or even catch a whiff of her scent, they book it towards Zayne's office and sit on his desk.

They're not openly hostile towards mc, they still let her pet their head, but they show that they don't like it when they approach each other. Tabby is always the barrier between them. It's a clear "Zayne is their human, back off" of course, mc jokes about it with him and he finds it adorable, but he makes sure to gently remind them that it's fine when they're alone.

Then comes the moment where mc indirectly rejects Zayne. He doesn't confess or any of that, but one of the other boys comes to pick her up after the check up and he sees them kiss. Instant heartbreak. He throws himself into work, barely finishes his meals and barely sleeps. Tabby is the one to slowly pull him out of it by getting him to take breaks and providing distractions for him. (Idk if I wanna write a scene where he allows himself to cry into Tabby's fur over a culmination of a bad day, but, it could happen)

Something happens that Tabby gets sick– idk, they eat something they shouldn't or they get injured in some way (I'm leaning heavily towards injured)– and Zayne is the one to take them to the vet and later drive back home after getting a few days off to take care of them, and finally, after a few days, we get the big reveal scene:

They're cuddling on his bed when it happens. In one second, it's night time and Zayne fell asleep to the rumbles of a purring orange cat on his arm. The next, it's early morning and he's waking up the warmth of another body pressed against his.

He's disoriented when he turns to kiss Tabby's head and ends up feeling hair instead of fur. It takes him a few minutes to compute that the broken thing under their neck is the collar they had given them. And then he stares, silently, taking in every feature of the hybrid in front of him.

I don't remember very well beyond that point, but I think Tabby went back to being human? They were practically homeless when they met him and all their important things were stored somewhere safe. They were just trying to figure out how to move with life when they met him– right in the middle of a crisis that turned them into a cat because of the stress– it ended up snowballing out of control the day they went into the hospital.

Zayne "adopted" them (It means that he became her willing "caretaker" because the mandated one had proven to be negligent and untrustworthy– they were the reason she ended up homeless–) and she was able to find more stable footing after moving in with him. She still visited the hospital from time to time, both in cat and human form (I think it's implied that Ivonne and Greyson recognize them because of the hair and mannerisms).

And there's a bit of an angsty scene where she makes something for Zayne and ends up having a misunderstanding when she sees him with mc. I don't remember what they were doing but it was enough for them to walk away without saying anything and staying a cat for a few days. They stay close to him during that time, but there's an obvious distance that hurts both of them and then I truly don't know what the fuck happens after because I woke up....

Yeah, I'm totally writing this, I got a whole fucking outline right here. Imma do that after I nap tho, I got wrongfully forced into waking up early and I'm fucking tired.

[blank-potato]

Much Needed Relief

Pairing: Ava Starr x Reader

Summary:

You land in the bath, soaked to the bone. “I’m still wearing clothes, you heathen!” you gasp, sputtering a little as you come up for air, drenched from Ava’s not-so-accidental splash. Your shirt clings to you like a second skin, soaked and dripping, your pants just as hopeless. Ava’s laugh rings out, the kind of sound you wish you could bottle and keep forever. She leans back slightly in the tub, a smirk playing at her lips as water beads down her shoulders. “I need to get you undressed then,” she says, mischief dancing in her eyes. Or You help Ava relax in the bath after a tough mission.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, bath sex, oral sex (female receiving), choking kink, hair pulling, nipple play, Possessive!Ava, Dom!Ava, Sub!Reader, kissing her scars, Ava being soft around you, Ava calling you a good girl

WC: 3.0k

A/N: I had to write something for the love of my life, hope you enjoy it! Ava Starr, the woman you are 🥹

✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙

Ava had gotten used to long days and long nights alone. She wasn’t used to having people come home to. The team had proven to be a good change, something to get used to, but good. It led her to you after all. 

You never failed to make her feel at peace. You had been dating for around six months, and it’s been intense. You had been in love with her ever since she pinned you to the wall and pointed a gun at your head in the vault.

Love at first gunfight.

It wasn’t easy at first; Ava had many walls. They were so high and fortified, you thought you’d never be able to see over them, let alone get through. But bit by bit, she let you in. Whether it was looking to you first when things got tense on a mission, or always trusting your judgement. Or looking after you when you got injured, even when you insisted you were fine. And even her silently phasing into your room at night just to sleep beside you (which scared the absolute shit out of you the first time it happened) — she found her own way to say I trust you.

Eventually, she didn’t even bother asking you out; she just told you that you were dating, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But that’s my food,” you complained as she stole a mozzarella stick straight off your plate without breaking eye contact.

“I'm your girlfriend,” she said, popping another one in her mouth. “I’m allowed to steal your food.”

She said it so simply, so offhandedly, but you couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

You stayed, even when she tried to push you away. She was always there for you, and you were always there for her. And you wanted, desperately needed, her to take care of herself.

One day, after cleaning yourself up after a tough mission, you decide to check on Ava. You walk into the room to see her lying down on her bed, still in her suit, stiff as a plank of wood.

“Ava…” you murmur, gently nudging her shoulder.

She grumbles under her breath before sitting up slowly, moving like every joint hurts. “What?” she groans.

“Want my help?” you ask, already kneeling beside her.

She lets out a long, reluctant sigh. “Fine.”

You help her shed off the suit piece by piece, careful with her sore limbs. You can see the tension tight in her shoulders, in the way her jaw clenches even when she tries to play it cool.

“You need to relax.”

“I’m plenty relaxed,” she mutters, eyes darting anywhere but at you.

“Don’t lie.” Your voice softens. “I must be able to do something for you. What if I ran you a bath? Just think about it — hot water, that lavender soap I got you, maybe some music…”

She pauses, clearly debating whether to protest again, but then the weight of the day seems to hit her all at once.

“…Okay,” she finally says. “But only if you sit nearby and make sure I don’t fall asleep and drown.”

You smile. “Deal.”

✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙

By the time you get her in the tub, she already looks more alive. When you found her, it was like she was on death’s door. Body heavy with exhaustion, eyes barely holding on. But now, with the warm water steaming around her, her features looked softer, less strained. 

You can’t help but take a minute to admire her, the curve of her neck, the way her lashes flutter slightly as she relaxes.

You can’t keep your eyes off of her back either, how it slopes so gracefully, the muscles beneath her skin still subtly tense even as she sinks further into the warmth. The way the water hugs her form, rising just enough to obscure but not hide.

“Is the view that nice?” she asks without opening her eyes, a teasing lilt in her voice and the ghost of a half-smile tugging at her lips.

“You have no idea,” you reply honestly. Ava was your weakness; one look from her could make your knees buckle. 

She opens one eye, those sharp eyes scanning you slowly before landing back on your face. “Closer.”

You raise a brow but comply, stepping next to the tub and crouching down beside it. Her eyes narrow slightly.

“Closer,” she says again, the hint of a pout forming, and it’s ridiculous how adorable it is on her.

You hesitate for a second, worried that if you got any nearer, you’d end up slipping into the tub with her. But then, with a sigh and a smile, you kneel fully beside her, folding your arms along the rim of the tub so you’re right at eye level.

That seems to placate her. For now.

She closes her eyes again and rests her head against the edge, her voice soft now. “Thanks… for this. I needed it.”

“I know,” you say, and reach over to gently run your fingers through the damp strands of her hair. “You don’t always have to be made of steel, Ava.”

She hums in response, not a protest, not quite acceptance, either. 

You lather up a sponge, warm water trickling over your fingers as you lean in closer to her.

“Does it still hurt?” you ask quietly, fingers hovering just above the faint scar along her side, not yet daring to touch.

“I’ve had worse pains,” she replies, voice low, evasive.

“That’s not what I asked,” you say, letting the sponge glide softly over her skin, making sure to be gentle. To her, your touch is like a whisper, like a promise, almost like a tender kiss.

She exhales slowly. “It’s a little sensitive, is all. Nothing I can’t handle,” Ava says, but there’s the faintest tension in her voice, the kind she doesn’t even know she’s using.

“Don’t give me that look, I'm fine,” she adds with a soft groan, eyes half-lidded. You recognise the deflection, she’s trying not to worry you, trying to stay strong even when she doesn’t have to.

You don’t push. You just murmur an “Alright,” as you trail the sponge over her shoulder, slow and careful, letting the moment be whatever she needs it to be.

There’s a pause, quiet except for the soft lapping of water.

“Can you wash my hair?” Ava asks, her voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant, like asking for this kind of tenderness still felt foreign.

You smile gently, already reaching for the shampoo. “Of course.”

Your fingers move slowly, gently through her damp hair, working in the shampoo, your touch light but deliberate. Her hair curled and softened with the water, dark curls clinging to your hands as you lathered it, your thumbs brushing lightly against her scalp.

“That feels so good…” she murmurs, eyes half-lidded, her body relaxing into the warmth of the water and the comfort of your touch.

“I give amazing scalp massages, thank you very much,” you say with a soft chuckle, leaning in a little closer. “Certified by every ex I’ve ever had. Not that there were many.”

Ava lets out a quiet huff of amusement, the corner of her mouth twitching up in the closest thing she ever gives to a smile in moments like this.

“You should put that on your CV,” she mutters, almost sleepily.

You rinse the suds out slowly, carefully keeping the water out of her eyes, your hands lingering in her hair just a moment longer than necessary. "Only if I can list you as a reference."

You shift slightly, moving her damp hair aside and spotting a faded scar nestled against her collarbone. Without thinking, you lean in and lovingly press a soft kiss to it. And you keep kissing every other scar you can see.

Her breath catches. “What are you doing?”

You pause, your lips hovering near her skin. “Appreciating you.”

She turns her head just enough to look at you, her eyes sharp but vulnerable. “And why’s that?”

“Because I love you, Ava.”

Her expression falters, and suddenly everything around you falls into a hush. The faint sounds of the water, the hum of the room, all of it stills, like the world is holding its breath right along with her.

“…say it again,” she whispers, barely audible.

“I love you.”

Your heart stutters before pulling her in for a kiss. She’s slow, deliberate, it’s gentle like she’s memorising the shape of you, and you’ll never get over the way she kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters in her world.

You’re kiss-drunk, utterly lost in her, and don’t even notice her hands tugging at your shirt, until you do. There's a sharp tug, a surprised yelp, and then—

Crash!

You land in the bath, soaked to the bone.

“I’m still wearing clothes, you heathen!” you gasp, sputtering a little as you come up for air, drenched from Ava’s not-so-accidental splash. Your shirt clings to you like a second skin, soaked and dripping, your pants just as hopeless.

Ava’s laugh rings out, the kind of sound you wish you could bottle and keep forever. She leans back slightly in the tub, a smirk playing at her lips as water beads down her shoulders.

“I need to get you undressed then,” she says, mischief dancing in her eyes.

In mere seconds, you're naked on top of her, your hands exploring one another as you make out.

Then suddenly she phases through you before you can react. One second she’s in front of you, the next she’s on top, straddling your lap, pressing you gently against the back of the tub.

You blink up at her, momentarily breathless. 

Her wet hair clings to her skin in delicate waves, droplets trailing down the curve of her collarbone, disappearing beneath the water. But it’s her eyes that hold you in place, burning with that intense, fierce look like she wanted to claim you, right here and now, like you were something sacred, something hers.

And honestly? You could die right here and be perfectly content.

She smirks down at you, one brow lifting in that familiar, cocky way that somehow still makes your heart race.

“Well, don’t you look cute…”

“Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might not leave this tub alive,” you murmur with a crooked smile.

Ava tilts her head slightly, eyes locked on yours. “Don’t worry,” she says softly, her voice almost reverent. “I’ll take care of you.”

She cups your face, holding all of your attention in the palm of her hand.

Then she guides your soft lips to one of her nipples. You let her, taking it into your mouth as you roll the other one between your fingers. The sounds she was making, making you feel incredibly weak, but also making you want to try harder. Desperate to see her, your eyes flutter open just as hers close in the pleasure that you’re giving her. Just then, she opens her eyes again, running her fingers through her hair and smiling at you. A smile that could kill if she wanted. 

“So desperate to please, aren’t you?” She says before yanking you away from her chest by your hair.

She’s not wrong. You’d let her do just about anything to you right now.

You go back to work, licking and sucking to your heart's content while massaging her other breast in your free hand, you’re a little rough but you know that's how she likes it. "To that end, you bite down a little just to make her squeal, which she does.

You pull back to take in her blissed out expression, “And what was the biting for?”

“I wanted to leave my mark.”

Her laugh is low, throaty, and dangerous. “Of course you did.”

Not delaying for even a second, she wraps her fingers around your throat. Her grip is firm and commanding, yet not unkind when she pulls you in. But just before your lips can meet, she halts the movement, holding you there, suspended between want and ache.

You lean in, trying to close the distance, but she holds you back, her eyes burning into yours.

“What do you say?” she whispers, voice low and electric.

“Please?” you breathe, the word escaping you in a shaky exhale. It’s raw, needy, and there’s no doubt it sounds pathetic, but you don’t care. You’d beg for hours if it meant you could touch her.

A pause. Her grip doesn’t loosen.

“And?” she prompts, eyes searching yours like she’s testing you, like she needs to hear it.

“I love you.”

Her eyes light up when she hears your genuine confession. She gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, squeezing down on your throat just a little tighter. “I love you too.”

Then she finally gives you what you want, your lips collide, and it’s nothing short of wild. She’s controlling you like a puppet, one hand on your throat, the other in your hair. You were completely and truly at her mercy. 

She pulls away from you and releases your throat, and you want her back as soon as her touch leaves you. Luckily, she’s not one to leave you alone for long.

“Turn around,” She orders, and you immediately move to settle in with your back pressing against her chest. There’s a moment of peace before you feel her arms snaking around you, making their way to your swollen clit.

“Ava!” You whine as you buck your hips against her hand. She nibbles at your earlobe, set on making you lose your mind. 

“That’s my good girl,” She says, her breath hot against your skin. You shiver when you feel her start kissing your pulse point below your jaw. You feel the water start to ripple, and feel her hips start grinding against you. Her pace picks up, rubbing your clit with and matching it to her roll of her hips. The sound of splashing water and both of your moans echoing against the bathroom walls. 

“You’re driving me crazy, Ava.”

“What do you think you do to me?” She replies before sucking marks on your neck and shoulders. You can feel her pussy rubbing against you and you bite your lip, thinking about making her feel good. All you wanted was to feel her pussy grinding on your face and tasting her on your lips.

“You want something. I can tell,” Ava says, her voice low and knowing, eyes narrowing just slightly. She’s always been perceptive, especially when it comes to you.

“Wanna eat you out,” You admit, feeling suddenly so shy as if you hadn’t done it before.  It’s the effect Ava has on you.

She smirks against your skin, the curve of her lips brushing your jaw as her fingers trace slow, deliberate patterns along your folds. “You’ll have to beg for it.”

“Please… can I eat you out?”

She moves from behind you, the water shifting with her as she rises, droplets cascading down her skin in rivulets, soapy suds sticking to her curves. She perches on the edge of the bathtub, commanding all of your attention. 

Each and every curve is kissed by the dim bathroom light, casting golden shadows across her skin. She's so effortlessly beautiful it almost hurts to look at her. So perfect, you’d think she was sculpted by the gods themselves, crafted not just to be seen, but worshipped.

You crawl between her legs with doe eyes and good intentions, but all she does is tease you. 

“Please, Ava. I want you so bad. I just…” Your voice is barely a whisper, breath catching as you look up at her. “Please. I’m begging you.”

She tilts her head, eyes dark and steady as they scan your face. Her voice is velvet and steel all at once.

“More,” she says simply, a command wrapped in a whisper, dragging the word out like she knows it’ll unravel you.

You don’t hesitate. “I’m yours. Please, let me show you who I belong to.”

Ava inhales slowly, like she’s trying to memorise the moment—the desperation in your voice, the way you look at her like she’s your whole world. 

“Good,” she murmurs. “I hope you’re ready because you’re not getting up until I’ve had my fill.”

“I’ve never been more ready in my life.”

You don’t hesitate, laying messy kisses against her pussy, lapping up her slick like a woman starved. Her moans reaching your ears, her name on your lips sounding like a symphony. “So good for me, aren’t you?” She praises, her hands pulsing you deeper by your hair. You couldn’t lie, being yanked around by your hair by Ava was proving to be far more pleasant than you ever imagined. 

She squeezes her thighs around your head, stealing your breath. She knew exactly how to toe the line between pain and pleasure. But who needs to breathe? Ava is your oxygen now. 

You whine against her core when you feel her feet digging into your back when you touch a particularly sweet spot. You start to go to town on it, her moans getting her pitched as she grips you harder. So hard, you start seeing stars. When that happens, you tap out on her thighs and she loosens up a little (she’s not a complete sadist), but not enough to let you go. “What’s that? Begging for mercy?” She delights in seeing your desperate little face as you try your best to devour her. 

“A…va…” You gasp out, still muffled by her wet cunt and she just coos and pets you letting you catch your breath for a few seconds, before enveloping you with her legs again.

“Good girl,” She praises you again, and it all feels worth it. You suck on her clit with more fervour, pulling her to you and gripping her ass like this was your one true purpose. 

You're burying yourself between her legs, letting her use you until she's done. Little did you know, as soon as you were done in the bathroom, she was going to take you to bed and ruin you some more. 

Masterlist

[dreamweave01]

I need Raph being insecure about his Krang half and doubting Kendra’s love for him because of it. (”how could she love a monster like me? I dont deserve her…”)

I need Raph accidentally harming Kendra when he has a panic attack or something.

I need Raph being afraid and certain that Kendra os gonna be scared of him because of it; hate him, be mad at him, cut ties with him. (Donnie is ready to attack Kendra if she breaks Raph’s heart.)

But Kendra isn't mad. She's only worried (and a bit shaken).

Im a sucker for angst 😭

(no pressure, Do whatever you want; this is your au and I have no say in it)

- Paranormal Anon

.

.

And this is why the turtles have to be careful what they watch for movie night. Dang those triggers.

I'm completely unashamed to admit that I just spent several hours working on this instead of working on anything else I was supposed to. Who woulda thought Kendrael angst would hold me in a death-grip?

I think timeline-wise this would happen some time after the next arc. I like how I tell myself I'll stop jumping ahead of where I'm at in the story, and then ideas like this get thrown at me from out of the blue and suddenly I'm incapable of thinking about anything else /pos

Aaand now it's time for rambles ->

What I really liked about this thought was that it allows me to show a side of Raph that he absolutely hates about himself.

Everyone has this side to them that they bury deep inside, never to see the light of day, and for big Red over here, it's his natural tendency to lean towards 'fight' in a fight-or-flight response.

Really, it has nothing to do with the Kraang and everything to do with the ninja training as a kid. He and his brothers were born with the intent to be soldiers, and while yes, Splinter did everything in his power to give them a wonderful childhood - and did a darn good job too might I add - learning how to defend yourself led the turtles to trust their abilities to fight.

Now you could say, "But DW, what about in the movie when Raph told them to retreat blah blah blah-" That was a specific situation that called for specific actions. If there had been any chance they could've won that fight and if Splinter hadn't been injured, I'm willing to bet Raphael wouldn't have called for a retreat.

My point is, these boys are fighters. They take on a problem head-on, and unfortunately, that natural tendency is center stage of Raph's trauma.

The Kraang turned him into a soldier, their personal pet that didn't hesitate to follow orders.

None of it was Raph's doing, none of it was even close to being his fault, but the thing that terrifies him the most is that he'll lose control and hurt the people he loves. Again.

That 'again' makes it even worse, because he knows he's capable of it. He knows he could kill them because he has before, there's no doubt about it in his mind. Yes, he's the sweetest most gentlest giant in the world, but that doesn't take away the fact that he's a mountain of battle-trained muscle and has the power of a freight train, if not more. So he does everything he can to keep that fighter inside of him under wraps at all times, refuses to even risk letting that side of him see a glimmer of the light of day.

But he's not perfect, and there are moments like the one above where he's so heavily triggered into that fight-or-flight response, he goes into a tunnel-vision and doesn't even realize what he's doing because at this point, it's instinctual for him to defend himself. It always has been.

And when he snaps out of it, that's when the fear takes him, that overwhelming guilt that feels like it'll swallow him up whole.

And poor Kendra! She knows that Raph and his brothers have been through a lot - Mikey's mentioned things here and there to the rest of the friend group - but seeing in person just how hard it was? Exactly what Raph's experiences have done to him?

It's really hard to see someone you love and care so deeply about going through something so unbelievably horrible.

But she knows a thing or two about guilt, the fear of hurting people again, and you better believe she's going to do everything in her power to show Raph that nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could ever push her away from him.

She will always love him, no matter what he looks like, what he's been through, what he does.

Guys, this is why I love them, agh, they're so precious-

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

I just read through all the Welcome Home headcanons you wrote, and I love the amount of attention that you're giving everyone, especially Frank! I feel like he's one of the few people in Welcome Home that doesn't get mentioned often.

Anyway! I read the one where he listened to our heartbeat, and I was wondering, if maybe he'd make it a slight habit to ask to listen to it sometimes since there aren't many things that have a heartbeat. It's calming, if not a little personal/intimate. Who knows, maybe he even falls asleep like that.

Now I'm wondering who else would like to listen to our heartbeat..

I added some other neighbors learning about your heartbeat!

Frank listening to the readers heartbeat.

Heartbeat

★ When he wants to hear it, he pretends it's for his research. Frank asks politely. "I would like to hear it again. For science, of course." But over time it becomes a little routine. When he talks with you about biology, entomology, or whatever he finds interesting, it's usually done with him close to you. So he can hear your heartbeat.

★ The first time he fell asleep while listening to it was an accident. Letting his eyes close for just a second to focus on the sound. You just let him rest. Enjoying the moment of peace. When he wakes up, he's embarrassed. "Oh! I'm very sorry!" Feeling like he crossed a boundary.

Wally

★ Wally won't say much when he notices it. Simply enjoying the sound while thinking of a way to mention it. Eventually, he says something. "That sound you make, it's nice..." His words making it speed up. "Oh! Now it's faster. What does that mean?"

★ He finds it very calming. Never asking many questions and just accepting it as a part of you. Sometimes, when he listens, he taps a finger along. Trying to match the rhythm. "It reminds me of a clock." He tells you.

Sally

★ She is by far the most clueless person in home when it comes to matters of biology. Even more than Home. And that's saying something. The first time she noticed it was by accident. You had lifted her up to reach a prop for her latest play. Then she froze. "Wait. What is that?!?"

★ Sally presses a hand against your chest as you move to put her down. Then, she gasps loudly. "Neighbor, what in this wide world is moving inside you!" This was the moment you knew you were about to spend the rest of your afternoon explaining things to her.

★ When she realizes your heart never stops, Sally gets concerned. "Well, that simply sounds exhausting! Even I need to take breaks. What if it get’s tired?" If it picks up too much for her taste, she panics. "No no! I will not allow this! Go sit down."

Barnaby

★ I've mentioned this before. But Barnaby gets freaked out over the noises your body makes. Like your stomach growling. Your heart, however, is quite soothing. The soft sound of your pulse reminds him of a dogs tail wag. As such, Barnaby associates it with happy memories.

★ But if your heartbeat starts to pick up, he gets confused. What do you mean it changes? An ear twitches as he listens more closely. "Hey, hold on a sec. What's happening in there?" It catches him off guard.

Julie

★ The moment she notices it, Julie asks a million questions. Treating it as a fun little game. "Do you make it tick? Oh! It's getting faster!" Bouncing up and down as she speaks. Why didn't you mention this to her before?

★ "Okay, okay -now try running. Let's see how fast we can make it go!" Each time it changes she giggles. Pressing a hand to the side of your neck where she can feel it best. "It's kind of like a clock, huh? Or a drum." Comparing it to things she knows.

★ Your heartbeat starts to slow down as you relax. Like when you get exhausted from one of her games. This is how she knows when you need a break. Reminding you to drink some water and grab a snack. Try telling her your fine and she wags a finger at you. "Nope! I can tell when you need to rest! Sit down. I'll go grab you a soda."

Poppy

★ At first she was worried. The idea of such an important organ needing to run constantly, inside of you, makes her nervous. Especially when she thinks about what might happen if it stopped. "Oh dear... That's a lot of responsibility for one little part of you."

★ When it speeds up, she gets panicky. Assuming that something went wrong. "Oh no! Is something wrong? Do you need tea? A blanket? Tell me what's amiss, dear!" Her feathers all fluffed up. Checking you over despite not understanding your body completely. 

[felidae-sims]

It's wild how major struggles women have had throughout history, and still have, are about wanting to be included in male-only fields and places. Who exactly is threatening women's spaces? It's usually women wanting to break out of forcibly assigned women-only spaces and roles, is it not?

And isn't denying all trans people of their right to live as equals, because of a couple of individuals, amounts to a collective punishment? Since when had they stopped being one of the most abused groups of people, prone to all kinds of crap due to how people are treating them, and now they're the ones being a threat.? To women? stfu. Did right wingers/so-called Conservatives and just any ol' religious wackjobs stopped being a threat to women's lives? I think it's a slightly bigger issue.

Honestly if that rich bitch wanted to put her money where her mouth is, being so concerned about women's well being, she could've probably bought off the entire U.S. election [instead of other Trump "Donors"], preventing them from reverting all the advancements U.S. society has achieved since the 70's, or something.

One more thing that just occurred to me; Isn't she all for government allowances, being that she was assisted by one before publishing Harry Potter? so, this whole right-wing logic of, people could be taking advantage of the system - therefore we should abolish any allowances/not enact trans people their rights, is even more ridiculous.

Also, there's this:

Via theconcealedweapon.

Plus, getting worked up over bathrooms, and whatnot, is so 90's. Ask Ally McBeal.

It reminds me of antisemite's reasoning: they've heard of some incident where a jew was the bad guy, or this one jewish guy did them wrong; therefore, all jews had it coming... Underneath it's just prejudice.

While I'm on the topic, it is an ancient thing, but I DON'T LIKE HER USE OF GOBLINS. Seriously, these guys are in charge of the only bank in the wizarding world?

THESE GUYS:

Source: Reddit.

Excuse me, these guys.?

soure: the Guardian.

"Goblin Bankers"

Source: NYTimes.

More on antisemitism in art throughout history, in this article by Bernard Starr. Not an art historian but a psychologist, but it's a good recap. He did write a book about the topic. And in goblin folklore in particular, in this Reddit thread, by Ronald M James/ u/itsallfolklore.

This was my 60 minutes about J. K. Rowling, Trans Rights and Antisemitism. Thank you for attending my Ted Talk.

P.S. I second dunne-ias's recommendation of The Wizard of Earth Sea, and I'll add The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman. It's not about a magic school but it gives the same feeling as HP does.

[steelheart-redux]

Steelheart Redux: Year 1 Retrospective

I meant to post this yesterday but forgot. Oops. Anyway, June 1st marked the official first full year of Steelheart Redux! For me, at least. While the comic didn’t go public until September, those who have been here since the start remember that I uploaded all of chapter 1 at once. That work started in June, so I consider that the comic’s effective birthday.

With that disclaimer out of the way: what a year it’s been! In 365 days, I drew 153 comic pages. That’s about 0.4 pages a day— a little shy of a page every other day. Granted, those numbers aren’t an even spread. I made all of chapter 1 in three months (68 pages) and then had to take a break for a while because of wrist strain (wonder how THAT happened…) and then the amount of backlog I had fluctuated wildly for a while. Some days I have more time and motivation than others. It happens.

Quite honestly, I’m mainly happy that I’ve stuck with the project. My worst fear was that I’d get a month or two into Actually Doing The Thing, then get bored, demotivated, and give up. Luckily, my brain has allowed me to stick with Redux with a level of consistency that is frankly unforeseen from me, and I’m just as motivated as I was a year ago, if not more, thanks to people's interest. I’ve said it before, but the reception to the story already regularly blows me away. I went into this with the expectation that it would take years for the comic to gain any real traction, if it ever happened at all. But here we are, a year in, with tens, if not hundreds of regular readers across multiple platforms. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly, and as I’ve said, I’m so, so grateful for the trust and support.

Looking back, the comic started on wobbly feet. That’s something I knew even at the time and had to make my peace with. Steelheart Redux is my first original story project, first long-form comic (first colored comic longer than a few pages, tbh), and first time I've ever really left the title of "fanartist" behind for longer than a month or so. I knew I was entering uncharted waters and that whatever I made, I'd later come to see as 'bad', or at least, not executed as well as it could have been. Unfortunately, the only way to get that experience and improve is to do it bad. So I did it bad!

STRUGGLES:

Chapter 1 is way too long. Not in terms of content, but in terms of page count. For some reason, I was utterly allergic to the idea of putting more than four panels on a page. While I do like the pacing of it, and the sort of slow ease-in to the world and the setting, I made way more work for myself than I needed to. I definitely could have cut at least 10 pages by compressing things without seriously hurting the pacing, and it would have saved me a lot of trouble. Figuring out how to "trim the fat" and get to where I'm going as fast as possible without making things feel rushed is still something I'm working on, but I'm a lot more intentional about things now that I know it can cost me time and physical strain. You can see the font size slowly shrinking throughout the comic's run as I pack more in, lol. Honestly, it kind of works.

I have various other nitpicks. I'm sparing myself from the general "I don't like how I drew that"s in terms of anatomy and such, as those are just an inescapable result of improving as an artist and not worth getting in the weeds over. I will raise my eyebrows over some lighting choices-- I went out of my way to plan out a way to make the nighttime section of early chapter 2 read as "night, but not dark", and then the entire bit was annoyingly dark as hell. Trying to get the purple DRACO to visually stand out from the concrete there was obnoxiously difficult. I don't think it's bad-- I like the 'scribble background' gimmick I came up with to save myself from having to do backgrounds there, for one thing-- but I don't think it would have killed me to brighten up that section a bit. Something to keep in mind for later.

Speaking of backgrounds. Maybe it's too early to say, but at least right now, changing the background style was a game changer. That was one of the largest time sinks of early pages, adding 2-3 hours to every page that had at least one or two backgrounds. They were doable, but tedious, and as time went on, I found myself enjoying them less and less, instead of more and more as I'd hoped. You can see details start to disappear as a result, as backgrounds stopped being a "fun worldbuilding element" and "visual element of the page" and became just "something I had to draw to get the page done". Changing the style to a much looser one has brought the fun back, and made it much easier to pack in all the details I actually enjoy drawing without getting bogged down in "is the perspective exactly right". I've written posts before about making things easier for yourself if you're doing a long-form project; this is honestly my best example.

GROWTH:

I feel like, looking back, I can see myself become a lot more confident with drawing various things. Steelheart Redux is filled-- intentionally and not-- with things I'm bad at drawing, which has forced me to improve at those things sheerly through unavoidable repetition. Mainly, this includes backgrounds, mechs (still can't get me to draw cars though LOL), full bodies, and profiles.

It's also interesting to see the way I draw characters change. Going into the comic, I'd already been drawing Arthur for years, but making pages forced me to really lock in his design and get comfortable with drawing it. While it's not too different in terms of content, it has a different 'feel' now. This, too, I know is inevitable, and honestly something I look forward to.

I've become a lot more confident in doing these things, which makes making pages less intimidating and lets me experiment more with layouts and angles I might have otherwise been afraid to try. It's nice! It shows in a lot of the end of chapter 2, which is one of my favorite parts of the chapter. I was worried about hitting those emotional beats, because they're setting up for a lot and really needed to feel meaningful, but I think I landed them alright. My character writing is still something I worry a bit about-- there's a lot of subtlety to these guys and this story I worry I won't be able to get across in a more visual story-- but that's something for me to increasingly focus on going forward.

Away from the comic, I've also improved a lot as a 3D modeler. My robot rigs have improved, and I have much better human bases to work off. I can also slam out a layout for a scene much faster, which is a nice time boost to my workflow.

Overall, despite the hurdles and rough edges of some of the early stuff, I'm incredibly proud of everything I've produced. This is the first time I've ever put my heart, body, and soul so thoroughly into a project like this, and I'd like to think it shows.

While we're still in somewhat of the early stage of the comic's story, I'm hoping I've made a solid foundation for myself. I'm so excited for what's to come, and hoping I can execute it even better, year by year.

[nocreativityfornames]

I must love being tortured with unrequited love, because why does my brain keep cooking up different ways for Sylus to break nonmc's heart with this trope? Guess I should thanks @comatosebunny09 and her writing of Second Best for this (check it out right now!), because now I'm thinking of this trope with a nonmc who's a dragon, like Sylus.

He finds them through rumours of "the last of the dragon species" being captured and placed to be sold at an upcoming auction, and although he doubts the legitimacy, he goes to check. Sure enough, there they are- broken and bleeding, one wing torn as they tremble in the corner of the cage.

Crazy amounts of money are being put on the line, because dragons were believed to be extinct for centuries now and who wouldn't want to get their hands on the last one? But Sylus is the most fascinated, hopeful, for he'd long ago accepted he was alone grieving the death of his kind. He'd never been more glad to be proven wrong.

Of course, his bid surpasses all others and he gets the "product." But it's not that easy, since he still has to work to get their trust—the trust of a dragon who'd lived in isolation from society their entire existence, and very much acted like an animal still.

Even after showing them his dragon form, it was a struggle for them to allow him close enough to examine their wounds. But Sylus has taken strays before. He thinks of the street cats, used to being mistreated and fending for themselves in a world with no allies. He approaches them with the same gentleness, slowly gaining their trust by just hanging around, silently watching from afar as they eat the food he brought.

It's a slow process, but they go from hiding in the corner of the room to just being weary of him, and then letting their guard down in his presence, eventually allowing him to check on their injuries. And when it becomes clear that he isn't a threat, they start being the one to approach him. "Can I... see your wings again?" And he lets them take in his form a second time, now with more ease. Even lets them touch him when they reach out for his wings and horns.

He essentially teaches them how to be human from then on, and part of him heals with each step, being able to give someone what he never had and had to figure out on his own. Sylus sees them as part of the family he deeply cares for and he treats them as such, unaware that they've been developing feelings all along.

Then she comes around, and he starts putting all his time on her. What Sylus cares about, they do too, but it becomes too much. They rarely ever see him, and the routine that had built over the years is broken by him not being around, shared daily activities that a "complete day" couldn't go without long forgotten.

And they have to hold back from attacking Sylus' human whenever she's around, because just like him, they have urges to feed on the oh so tempting Aether Core. They need to show restraint, but they're not nearly as good as him at doing so, and it's not as though Sylus is around to help them either, with how much time he's investing into better things.

So it's incredibly hard to keep control. Especially when she's so worried about them avoiding her and looking away from her when they talk, nails digging into their palms like they need to escape before something tragic happens. Always so kind and ready to help others—in another life, they think they could fall in love with her, too.

Then it comes the day when they're hungrier than usual. Happens to every dragon, a period of time where they're more insatiable. They do their best to send her away but she keeps on pushing, sweetly wanting to ensure that they're okay. And when she places a gentle hand on their shoulder, they attack.

When the scent of blood rushes through their nose, their stomach churns. They scramble away from where she's bleeding on the floor and cover their mouth, holding back from vomiting as they call the twins. Please, please, please–

To everyone's relief, she ends up okay. Bedridden and still unconscious, but on the way to recovery. But Sylus is furious, and they'd never been a target to his anger before, especially not like this.

So they mostly just stand there quietly as he yells.

"I know but I didn't mean to! I-I'd never hurt her, Sylus. I swear, I couldn't control–"

"Well, if you don't have any self control, then maybe you were always meant to be alone in the first place." His words cut deep, freezing them on the spot.

They didn't know what to say after that, and the relationship that was already broken felt beyond repairing. By the next morning, all of their belongings were gone from the base and they were nowhere to be seen.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi, I'm the anon asking for the follow up of the broken parabatai bond, I meant the bones I'd break, sorry and thank you!

anon!! it has been a while but I am back and filling prompts (and I finally found the prompt because Tumblr buries them sometimes!) so here is the last part ofthe bonds i'd break and then here is the newest part!

i hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

the bonds i'd break

The skin on his hip is blank.

Alec feels numb as he pets over the empty skin with shaking fingertips until firm, warm fingers take his own and hold his hand carefully.

“Alexander, you need to let it heal.” Magnus’ voice is soothing and deep and Alec closes his eyes and leans closer to Magnus and the heat and magic he exudes, along with the security and peace he offers. “Let it be.”

Alec knows Magnus is right, but it aches even when he doesn’t look at it or touch it and then fabric is covering him, taking the skin away the option at all.

“No more for now, all you’re doing is torturing yourself with this. Mourn what you’ve lost but do not obsess over it, Alexander.” 

Alec tries to remember what he’s supposed to do besides feel empty but the only answer he finds is to stay near Magnus.  Who breathes new life into him when Alec feels empty and void of anything.

This is only one rune gone.

True, besides the rune marking him as Raziel's, his parabatai rune is considered his most sacred mark. 

But Alec’s soul is whole, which is almost stranger still.

The echoing ache of his soul has always been answered by the small sliver of Jace’s, the current between souls tied together via slivering their souls.

Now, Alec feels settled even as his soul struggles to relearn his body fully, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss the bond or what it implied.

Alec has no family now.

In trying to protect them, he’s lost them. Or perhaps they were never his to begin with and Alec has only ever been a shield born and crafted and forged to be a barrier between his family and consequences. 

“Darling, don’t get lost where I can’t follow.” Magnus reminds him and then Alec opens his eyes because Magnus is moving — leaving — except it’s only to help Alec up as well.

—-

“Up you get.” Magnus is firm as he pulls Alexander up and his boy listens, a sad little grimace on his face. “Things won’t change with a hot cup of tea and a meal, but your mind will work better.”

Alexander eats methodically and not even Magnus’ attempts to gentle him into a smile work. There’s a new anger to Alexander, a layer of enraged pain that has cracked through the icy facade that Alexander normally wears.

The facade is gone as well, leaving nothing but a blank slate that so far has shown more pain and sadness and anger than anything else.  Even now, Alexander goes through the motions and even tries to respond however he thinks Magnus wants, but it’s not real.

“We should go out for the day.” Magnus watches Alexander and sees the way his shoulders tighten, his head ducking down as if to prepare for a hit as he collects their plates. “Perhaps Huangyao Ancient Town? It’s a quieter destination, I think you’ll appreciate the beauty and age of the buildings.  The local nightmarket is old and full of timeless magic and trinkets, somewhere you can get lost in without ever losing your way.”

Alexander pauses from where he’s hand-washing the dishes, something he insisted on doing and since he’s doing something, Magnus had allowed.  Even summoning soaps made by Catarina that he hasn’t used in centuries just to make it easier and protect Alexander’s skin and nails.

“That’s fine.” Alexander doesn’t seem enthused or upset, but he does seem relieved.  As if Magnus is going to take Alexander out and about in New York or around any Institute any time soon.

Magnus doesn’t want to push, knows better, but he can’t help but step closer and cheekily dry the dishes and put them away with a snap of his fingers and then reach out to grab Alexander’s soapy hand and kiss his knuckles.

“Truly, darling? Or would you prefer to stay here? Or simply go to another one of my properties.  If this is too much...”

Alexander is staring at where Magnus is holding his hand and when his eyes raise his gaze lingers on Magnus’ mouth with a confused little furrow between his eyes.  

“No, it’s fine. In fact—” Alexander pauses and — because Magnus is still holding his wet hand — pulls Magnus' hand to his mouth and returns the kiss, clumsy but sincere. “I want to. Go somewhere with you where we won’t be recognized.” Alexander must see Magnus’ face twitch because he rolls his eyes, “I know you’ll probably be recognized anywhere. Especially at a nightmarket, but I won’t be and that’s enough. The Clave will try to hide what’s happened and until it gets out, no one will be looking for me.”

Magnus swears that his heart relearns it’s rhythm in that moment, the tempo changing to cater to his excitement and the fact that Alexander wants to do anything, even if it’s only because of a suggestion. 

—-

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” Clary tries to repeat but Jace is still incoherent, near catatonic and the fact that Alec is still alive has only made it worse. “He’s still alive, maybe you can recreate the bond.” Clary feels like it’s a safe offer,  except Izzy shakes her head and Jace silently shakes under her hands.  She’s trying her best to help — especially when the parabatai bond is creepy and clearly Alec didn’t care that much about it if he got it severed— but nothing she’s said or done has made a difference. “Besides, it’s not like it's your fault—” she starts but Jace wails as if she’s stabbed him instead.

“Clary shut up.” Izzy is sniffling and tries to glare at her, eyes red and nose still red and raw. “It is literally Jace’s fault no matter what we think of how things went down. Raziel himself judged their parabatai rune and Jace was found guilty.” Jace shakes harder under her hand, “he’s literally being investigated for treason right now. All three of us are. The only reason we’re on probation and limited isolation is because Imogen Herondale broke far too many rules and is now also in question.”

“Okay but we have the power of the Institute.  Didn’t you say you were practically royalty beings Lightwood’s?”

“We don’t have anyone to help us anymore!  Alec is gone and with him any power to protect us. We don’t have that power. Even if our name was worth anything, it’s not now that we’re suspected of treason.  Especially since Jace has been judged to have failed and turned upon his parabatai, there is no one who will save us. Alec was the only person who was standing between us and the Clave’s sword.” Izzy spits it out now and she’s getting angry, angry and crying and Clary didn’t know Izzy could cry, not with how brave and strong and fierce and confident she is.  It’s a new look and Clary wishes she didn’t know it.  How is she supposed to be brave when even Izzy is scared?

“Your parents—” Clary gets laughed at even before the question is complete but despite the burn of irritation and pride, she doesn’t snap back.  Izzy is hiccuping sobs and choking laughter and shaking her head and Clary doesn’t want to make it worse.

“My mother is in Idris trying to make sure that they focus on Imogen’s misdeeds. The best she can do for us is by making sure someone impartial comes to investigate us, especially when you’re Valentine and Jocelyn’s daughter.  Neither of your parents left any friends, Clary. Only enemies and now Jace and I have proven to be on your side and your side isn’t with the Clave. Helping you, it might have doomed us all.” Izzy curls closer to Jace and he lets her slide an arm around his back with a shudder, clearly comparing it to a different arm.

“We wait and we stay low, no more unsanctioned missions and no more running around the shadowworld. We don’t have any options left, Clary.”

AN:

Magnus is the calm keeping the storm at bay and he's also the eye of the storm. The entire reason that Alec's so calm and reasonable and stable is because he's basically just mirroring what Magnus gives him and Magnus is being a MOUNTAIN of stability rn.

like it won't last because it can't, but Alec is able to just not completely lose himself in total dissociative episodes because Magnus is keeping him tied to reality by a little thread. Magnus is also doing so much research and studying during this time.

alec hasn't figured out what he's feeling yet. there is a lot less and more trauma in different ways because he wasn't fully deruned but also he has literal evidence from the angel that he was betrayed (his stele being stolen sealed that okay, like forget emotions by every logic and law Alec was betryaed and mutinied against).

he's a lot more angry in a different way? the deruning broke him in one way? the fact that Jace betrayed him enough the angel agreed broke him in a different way. something he is having the hardest time understanding and conceiving.

alec wanted stability and to heal in the all your cracks I'll paint gold and he's in a much more 'let me unleash my feral rage' in this fic. we're just not there yet.

Magnus having just accidentally unclipped the leash to a feral tiger he didn't know he was holding: ... here kitty kitty kitty

Alec returning covered in blood and feeling better for the first time in days and just, helplessly kissing Magnus because that's the only thing he knows he wants: *smooch*

Magnus: you're telling me I can let him go out on murder sprees and he'll return to me for kisses?? am I getting this right?

Ragnor and Catarina both feeling a chill go down their spines at the same time: oh no, Magnus who are you about to obliterate?

Magnus having a much better time than in canon: Alexander darling, for brunch I've found a Circle bunker and - darling get back here we're having pastries first!

Alec: i'm going to wash dishes. that's routine and something I can handle and control and huh, punching through that nephilim's ribcage and squeezing their heart until it burst against my palm was surprisingly therapeutic.

Valentine still gets the cup because the Institute is terrible without Alec: *creating new and shitty nephilim*

Alec: ... my I wasn't expecting presents from the enemy

Magnus: can it be considered a present if he's really just tossing fodder? At this point it's not even chum to lure in sharks, he's just throwing crumbs into the local duck pond.

Alec: I am much fiercer than a duck

Magnus: let me introduce you to the local magical pond and their poison breathing ducks sweetheart, then you can look me in the eye and repeat that.

because I don't think it's super clear, Alec is dissociating and in a bit of a daze and when he snaps, it's going to be violent and bloody and he's not going to stop being angry for a very long time, or mourning.

he's also going to be angry because even his relationship with Magnus can't be normal (for a shadowhunter and warlock version of normal), because Magnus is everything to him right now and Alec is sulking about that because he deserves the right to mourn everything he lost.

Magnus is his lifeline.

Magnus is doing an incredible job of working with and helping someone with a trauma he can only barely begin to comprehend (he can use magical accidents to get a better idea but understands that runes are intimate and different the same way Magnus can understand a vampire turning but not fully comprehend what's felt).

Magnus is doing all of this ON Top of his own trauma, because he went from 'will I, wont I?' on even trying one more time with Alec and now he has a whole shadowhunter partially broken and completely his and depending on him.

Magnus is hiding his panic behind an 800 year old poker face but eventually he's gonna need to call in reinforcements and Ragnor is going to stop playing dead early.

Magnus is doing amazing.

[moonsmultimusings]

For the sake of respecting Chaesun's comfort, Zen hoped to be able to make do with kissing her hand alone. He wanted to remain a gentleman to her, to overcome any temptations of the body in favor of the heart. 'The beast' was what he tended to call it within the chatrooms. Personifying it, giving it some form, helped him to control it, in his mind. As someone who viewed himself as generally lacking in self-control, the idea of taming a beast was easier for him to manage. Her teasing at him certainly wasn't going to help matters.

As she said, he was already breaking his rules for her by letting her stay over. There wasn't exactly an other option. For her sake, he could manage it. But, of course, he would still draw some lines around them sleeping in the same bed for a similar reason. She was shorter than himself, with her shoulder falling short of brushing against his own, and this only made him want to embrace her more. He could easily lift her up and carry her in his arms, no doubt… But he couldn't allow himself to think too much more about what else they could do.

“I am breaking some rules… And what's why you should be careful,” he observed, noting her blush. She was just cute. He'd known this about her for some time, since they first met, and it seemed to renew in his mind each time she would offer him a smile or would blush in his direction. “The beast is more active at night.” He did always say that he was a gentleman while the sun was up. He leaned down to brush his fingers over her lips softly. “You can stay here as long as you need, Chaesun, but you shouldn't tease.” Not in the evening, and certainly not when she was still recovering from such a dangerous experience. He liked to think he had a bit more control in the daytime (not that this was particularly true).

Could the pair of them still go out together? It was true that he hadn't cleared his name yet. This would come at the party, provided everything worked out as he and Jumin had been planning. Normally, he would need to avoid being seen with a date like this for the sake of sparing both them and himself. He didn't want to inflict a paparazzi onto them, nor did he want to ruin his own career, as Jaehee had worried about in the chat. This was especially heightened now that the allegations were floating around and he hadn't yet delivered his defenses. But the fact that she was still worried about this was just another testament to her kindness to those around her.

Even if it was a risk, it was one he would have to take for her sake. “I can't leave you alone here, can I?” Even if she would be comfortable with it -- and he didn't doubt that she would try to insist she was the moment she was collected enough to do so -- he wouldn't be. Not after seeing that guy face-to-face tonight. “Luckily, I'm an actor!” He knew a thing or two about costumes. He led her (mostly because he didn't want to leave her side) to the closet, where he began pulling out a few items. A hoodie, an overcoat, and a face mask. Altogether, he felt like he could get away with it. “With a little disguise, I should be able to get out there easily.” He'd need to be careful, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd tried to hide his identity in public. It would just be the first time he'd had to try so hard to do so. The highest stakes for being caught.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀There was a lot to account for. Every new love had things like that. Unlike most in this phase, they didn’t have much of an opportunity to set things aside in favor of idealizing one another for a few months; that might have been a good thing. In her view, this was an advantage. The common problem of fully investing in someone only to deem their flaws unattractive was less prominent. Fate had exposed the things bubbling under the surface, mainly for him; hers were slowly showing through in her fragility. Both parties were able to discern that nothing was going to deter them from seeing this through. So far her execution of introducing him to her truest self was less than eloquent, though she was sure he felt the same about what he had laid bare.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The best optometrist wasn’t necessary so long as she properly addressed the problem. She sensed that Zen felt strongly that the RFA owed her something for putting her through all this grief, but Chaesun preferred anything they roped her into over endless days of locking herself away from the world. The tension of her existential dread was muffled under the touch and optimistic cadence of this unfathomably attractive musical actor. Each day she pulled herself out of bed, she never saw a future, let alone one where she landed such a gem of a person, at least not for the right reasons. Every instinct begged her to run from this before things went south. Then he matched her humor, and her heart sang.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sides of her that thrived in solitude nagged at her brain, reminding her of her father’s many broken promises. Whatever effort it takes? Her mother fell for that over and over again. Even she thought he would be there for her when he was needed the most. Inward spirals tangled love with doubt. Soft, warm lips met her hand, and his pretty girl happily unraveled the web forming in her head. He had no idea how naturally he shook the well-built walls that took two decades to perfect. Skepticism be damned. When loving him felt this good, any pain wasn’t present Chaesun’s problem. Zen hid it well, but it was obvious that temptation hung in the air between them. Rushing would be counterproductive; that did nothing for how frequently she wondered what their mouths would feel like meshed together. The rush left over from nearly being abducted magnified that wish, yet his chivalry kept her grounded. This was not a man she wanted to be reckless with. He was too important. There was a psychological term for what she was experiencing. Danger wasn’t necessary for her to be attracted to him. Even so, now that the horror of it had dulled, she was left with misattribution.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Beaming up at him, an affectionate squeeze was given as their fingers locked. Slowly standing up, she became acutely aware of the differences in their height. Having seldom paid attention to boys in her past, her short stature rarely registered until she couldn’t reach the top shelf. In this instance, she felt secure because of it. Her shoulder gently brushed his arm. “ Careful what you say . You’re already breaking your rules for me ~ ” Chaesun teased with a blush. He would normally insist she go home as it got late, but being under the same roof as him was less troublesome than whatever might be lurking outside. Her lustrous eyes, still slightly tinged red, met his again. “ You’re sure we can go out like this … ? With all that negative attention on you , it’s fine if it’s too risky . ” His fans were on his side, but she wasn’t sure how it would look if anyone unsavory spotted him holding hands with a woman before clearing his name. Third parties didn’t know the context, and there was no telling if they’d believe it. “ I don’t mean to put you in a spot . ” It was incredible that she found it in herself to be selfless when the other option was staying here with no one but her justifiable paranoia.

[ghostzzy]

ok. so far so good. i'm gonna power down til 4:30 - nap or play video games, whichever my brain lets me do - and then i'm gonna do my property law class & my assignment. and then i'm gonna shower or take a bath or something bc i am so fucking grimy. and then i'm gonna have a very chill night.

[mudstoneabyss]

actually. the specific phrasing that boy Kevin wants to kill older Kevin with "I must disassemble him, piece by piece, so that everything inside of the Old Kevin comes out. Only then can the New Kevin truly begin." is so incredibly the idea that to heal from trauma and "improve" you have to destroy every "wrong" part of yourself, that everything "tainted" by it has to somehow be replaced by something untouched (which isn't possible)

[swordsonnet]

hey y'all, i'm back. still not out of the woods yet, but i've had a lot of time to think these past few weeks and do some painful but necessary introspection. also, i've found a few potential silver linings - nothing definite yet, but at least there's some hope now, which is a lot more than i had a few weeks ago. we'll see how it goes, i suppose! thank you so much to everyone who reacted to my last post, i really appreciate it 💜

[sensitivegoblin]

My sisters boyfriend is being a massive dick and I just have to sit by and watch her cry

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

day one million and one of the struggle of whether to come out to my parents or not