#you can also blame ALaw for this

[butmakeitgayblog]

Buddy, I’m gonna need you to share my pain with everyone else. I cannot go through this alone 😭

Cue Taylor Swift.

For the record, you did this

You did.

By sending me TS's Soon You'll Get Better, which I had never even heard. And considering the honeymoon snippet you'd think you woulda seen it coming

This baby girl right here?

Right here?

This is Lexa who has completely stopped running from it.

Her illness causes bruising. That's just a fact of Lexa's life. It's what she wakes up to every morning and what she sees in the mirror before bed every night. It's something she'd gotten so used to working to cover up that by the time Clarke started coming around, it kind of didn't occur to her what would happen when or if she eventually couldn't keep them hidden anymore.

Or if she'd even want to hide them from her at all.

The first time they sleep together is when Clarke sees the full extent of it and, oh, Lexa practically shakes with how nervous it makes her. Because yes, she knows Clarke is attracted to her, and yes, Clarke has always been nothing but gentle with her, treating her like she's something precious rather than something broken that could crumble if held too firmly in her grasp. But it's another thing entirely to be laid so bare. To have every one on every rib stand out against the paleness of her skin. To see Clarke's eyes trace the peppering of them across her shoulders, her hipbone. Across her breasts, belly, and the dips of her thighs.

But Clarke kisses them with unwavering reverence. Not as though Lexa's delicate for them, but as though she loves those broken parts of Lexa every bit as as she loves the supple, unmarred skin around them. As though they're nothing more than pieces of Lexa's perfectly beautiful whole.

That's something Lexa didn't even know she needed until she had it. That feeling of Clarke cupping her face and nuzzling close. Breathing her in. Kissing her temples and cheeks. Taking on Lexa's burden as her own. That feeling of Clarke accepting her exactly as she is in her illness. Not despite it.

And that never changes. Not once when they're close or being intimate does Clarke treat her as anything other than just Lexa, the woman she loves. Not physically, not emotionally.

Which is how Lexa prefers it.

She prefers it on the bad days, when she can't even stand the sight of food and keeping down water feels like a herculean feat. On the days when she barely recognizes herself in the mirror amid the splotches of purple, yellow, and faded blue, Clarke still looks at her like she's nothing less than precious. And on the days when Lexa can't do anything beyond laying in bed drifting in and out of sleep, she appreciates the fact that Clarke will just slip under the covers beside her and snuggle up like that was always what she'd had planned for the day.

Because it's in those moments that Lexa can pretend.

They'll lay in her bed, usually naked and practically wrapped around each other, Clarke obviously boiling under Lexa's 4 insulated comforters... but she never complains. She just lays on her back and coaxes Lexa's head onto her chest, running her fingers through Lexa's hair and reverently kissing every bruise within reach. Humming with every kiss she faithfully returns in kind across the full swell of Clarke's breasts. (Forever a boob girl.)

And they take turns talking about what they're gonna do together "when this is all over" and seal every one with a lie-sweetened kiss. They make plans to visit the grand canyon and camp under the stars and shout to wide open sky till their lungs burn. They plan summers in Europe just to kiss under the Eiffel Tower and argue about wintery holidays split between the tropics and begrudging trips back home. They make plans to find the hidden sanctuary of some long forgotten waterfall to make love under and swear to dip their toes into the shores of every ocean.

They plan a lifetime's worth of moments in that quiet safety they find in Lexa's bed. Plans for a future life filled with all their love and all the pieces of the world they're gonna conquer together, someday.

Just as soon as Lexa gets better....

[wordsablaze]

Change is Overrated

(alaw pt.1) Even if most people prefer change, Alec's perfectly content with his days staying the same... A daily life scene written for Alec Lightwood appreciation weeks 2017. Enjoy!

Alec sighs.

He dutifully marches into the institute, trying his hardest to stay strong for the mission report. The truth is that he doesn't want to be strong, he doesn't want to be borderline indifferent, and he doesn't want to seem like an apathetic leader.

But, like every other day, he has to school his features into responsibility and brief those who need the information they've gathered. And, like every other day, he has to ignore the skeptical looks and curious whispers from the newer shadowhunters who don't know how much he's sacrificed to reach his position.

Once he finishes explaining, he's exhausted, and his team can tell. Izzy immediately shuts everyone else up and Jace takes over explaining, with the help of Clary, so that he can leave and head back to his room.

"You should take a break, you know?" Izzy suggests gently.

Alec sighs, running a hand through his hair, "I need to be here."

Izzy shakes her head. "We both know that you're not responsible after seven."

Alec bites his lip, nodding reluctantly; there was indeed a rule made to say he didn't have full control over the institute all day long, designed so that the blame for any demon attacks wouldn't fall on his shoulders alone. It takes him a few minutes to slowly ask: "What do you think I should do?"

Izzy just smiles at him as if he'd just asked the most obvious question in all the galaxies, and places a hand on his shoulder. "You should go home."

Alex frowns. "What? But I am h-"

"Alec," Izzy interrupts, "I'm not talking about home the place."

Oh.

Alec sighs again, "You mean Magnus."

It's not even a question, it can't be, because he knows what Izzy means. Of course he does; they're siblings. He knows exactly what she's suggesting and why, probably because he agrees with it, deep down, no matter how much he tries to deny it.

"Of course I do," Izzy confirms.

"You're sure?" Alec asks.

Izzy laughs, throwing her hair back. "Alec, I say this almost every day and you still have to ask?"

Alec shrugs sheepishly. "I can't be sure, can I?"

"Your scepticism is actually infuriating, Alec. Now go." Izzy practically shoos him out of the institute's makeshift back door, fondly shaking her head.

Alec laughs as he stretches his shoulders and falls into his regular rhythm of walking faster than the mundanes but slowly enough to observe them as he travels. Despite having done this every day since they'd created the shared leadership rule, Alec can never get bored of watching mundanes in their natural element, blissfully ignorant and usually smiling.

He does wonder why the mundanes feel the need to constantly alter their appearance and actions. As someone who's perfectly satisfied with wearing the same shirt every day of the week, or at least until some demon rudely bleeds all over it, he can't quite understand the appeal of becoming a slightly different person each day.

Trying his best to dismiss the thought, he enjoys the feel of his boots on the pavement, the leaves that crunch under his feet, the feel of a gentle breeze brushing over his skin, the sound of laughter that rings out from people's back gardens, and the way he's completely in control of his situation. But there's nothing more enjoyable than knowing his destination.

He knows he's going home.

There's a soft smile on his face as he approaches the same door he doesn't have to knock on every day. He lifts a hand to try anyway, and can't help the small chuckle that escapes him when the door widens in invitation.

"Alexander," Magnus greets him, "You look rather cold."

Alec goes to argue that he's really not but, as Magnus laces their fingers together, he feels the warmth radiating from the warlock and realises that his hands are in fact shockingly cold.

Magnus pulls him in as he shivers slightly, the two of them making their way to Magnus' now-mint-green couch and grabbing a blanket that wouldn't have been big enough for the both of them if they weren't so good at cuddling.

"Your usual drink?" Magnus asks, a sparkle in his eyes.

Alec nods.

Within a split second, there's a steaming coffee in his hands, topped with marshmallows that taste so much better than they logically should – neither hot drinks nor soft foods stand a chance against magic.

Alec still can't remember the name of the tv show they're watching but he curls into Magnus as they start to watch. Magnus sends his mug to the kitchen once he's done so that neither of them have to move, and Alec smiles as he shifts a little to tighten the blanket around them.

Eventually, his eyelids start to droop but Magnus, used to Alec sometimes dropping into slumber as soon as he steps through the door after a particularly rough mission, simply chuckles and lifts him up.

Alec loves this part of the day.

If anyone decided to ask him why he puts himself through the most dangerous missions every day, he would explain this moment to them. He would explain that he adores the way Magnus gently lifts him up and carries him through the house instead of using magic to transport them both to their bedroom. He'd also tell them that resting his head on the warlock's shoulder and being able to hear, to feel his heartbeat is more calming than any lullaby.

Magnus carefully drops Alec onto their pile of pillows and dims the bright lights before flopping down himself. "You awake, sweet pea?"

Alec mumbles something half-coherent and pulls Magnus towards him, having done the action so many times before that he doesn't even need to open his eyes. He smiles to himself as Magnus laughs and curls up right beside him, their foreheads resting together.

"How tired are you?" Magnus inquires quietly.

Alec shrugs, opening his eyes. "I want to… I want to sleep."

Magnus stifles his laugh and nods, wrapping an arm around the blue-eyed shadowhunter. "Then sleep you shall."

"Wait… Mags?" Alec murmurs sleepily.

"Mhm?"

"I love you."

Alec's eyes flutter open just in time to see Magnus beam as brightly as a sunrise. He finds Magnus' hand, carefully interlocking their fingers once again, then promptly yawns.

"I love you too, my sleepy shadowhunter," Magnus whispers, knowing that Alec is extra sensitive to sound when he's only half awake.

With all the love packed into the gentle words drifting from the warlock's mouth, it's no wonder that Alec doesn't like change and it's even less of a wonder that he keeps his routine essentially the same each day.

As Alec drifts into a content sleep knowing that he has the person he loves most nestled beside him – and that he'll get to see the warlock's beautiful eyes in the morning – Alec knows he wouldn't trade his day for any other.

He knows that he'd be perfectly happy to do this every day for the rest of his life.

Alec knows that change is overrated.

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