#also i'm not writing anything anyone would care about

[worstdisastermaster]

The books and the shows aren't the same thing and?? That's okay?? It doesn't have to be??

Some of the artists haven't even seen the show yet, and maybe won't 🤷‍♀️ I know I've seen like. The 1st episode and that's it lol. And I really enjoyed it and I think it's really fun

But people tend to separate book fandoms from in screen fandoms, to an extent, at least, bc there ARE differences, and THATS OKAY

They are very connected but they are not the same and I don't understand why people find that so hard to accept?? Like. Genuinely I'm so confused lol

Like if someone was being disrespectful, or trying to whitewash Leah or something horrid then like. Defend her!!! (Do try to be polite tho bc people can and often do change, and they know what they have been taught until they learn more- like for example, a few years ago I had no idea ab anything lgtbq and I peob would have gotten myself canceled bc I had. No idea. Ab any of it. And despite having best intentions in heart i totally would have offended someone, and that would have crushed me, because *i didnt know*. I never would have hurt anyone on purpose, i just didnt realize what COULD hurt others on that specific topic, much less why. But now I identify with it and am learning new things ab jt every day and etc. And that's a super touchy topic for a lot of people and for good reason too! Just try to be kind first, then if they are jerks u can be a jerk back lol. Just give peopke a chnace to get better- and then PLEASE dont hold the past against them ubless they very clearly havent changed mk please please please let people grow and change and get better dont crush them before they can) anti Leah trash is. That. Trash

But why would you attack book Annabeth, just for existing? She was my childhood, and I identified a lot with her as I grew up. And guess what! I also identified with Hazel, and I do so even more now! No matter what race she will be casted as, I'm still going to imagine BOOK Hazel the way I always did. Doesn't mean I won't adore her actress, or appreciate art of the girl playing her role! But would you call me racist for drawing her as African American if her actress, was, say, Asian American? Or drawing Leo as Latino instead of Somoan? Because to me, u less I am being a jerk about it, all I'm doing is drawing the book instead of the show. Idk I'm too sleep deprived to put my thoughts into coherent words lol

I love the posts, where it's like, book Annabeth and show Annabeth holding hands. Those posts are my favorite, both because they are freaking adorable, but also. Because it's equal

They are different aspects of the same person

And

Thats

Okay

You know???

I quite literally grew up reading pjo. I read it at least once every year since I learned HOW to read, *partially on pjo*, until late middle school. I was raised on book Annabeth.

Show Annabeth is new and exciting and adorable and I'm so happy for it and I am very excited for all the people being introduced to it!!!!!!!! However, when I'm writing book pjo, I'm not swaping it out for show scenes, bc they are, in fact, different. Which, again, NOT A BAD THING. And you know what? When people from the show fandom write their scenes, they aren't going to be thinking ab the book scenes, and THATS OKAY TOO!!! And I could care less how my readers saw my characters when the read the story. I write them the way I imagine them, but it's their job as the reader to say 'no, actually :P' and swap out the appearance for one they liked better.

I did that plenty often as a kid, and i donf regeret it.

Which, ironically enough, was why my book Percy was blond until ab 6th grads XD I mixed up Luke and Percy's hair description ONCE and just. Never questioned it, though all the rereads, or looking at the covers of the books �� you can imagine my shock when I joined the fandom and found out Percy had black hair, instead of sandy hair like, you know, S A N D, like poseidon!!! And now show Percy is blond XD

That just proves people can imagine things how they want and jts okay- especially bc maybe, in an au, they're rifht!!! (Au being show Percy to me)

Anyways I lost my train of thought and it's almost 12 here lolll I hope I didn't say anything ill be embarrassed by come tomorrow~

Good night world :3

Hi guys, wanted to discuss something going on for a while now. What the hell is wrong with pjotwt? Like...whats wrong with this people? Do you see what they say? What they are even trying to do?

First of all, let me start by speaking about the cast. They are all wonderful children, Leah especially! She is doing an amazing job as Annabeth. But book Annabeth still exists yk? She is and she is literally white. It is not racist. But denying about a character being white in the books, even spreading hate like this...is racist. There are people out there related with Annabeth for years. People love her, every version, maybe book more maybe even the movie. How can you disrespect her like this? And most importantly, how can they attack an artist like this, with an art being so beautiful. What they are trying to do is not protecting Leah, it is spreading hate. It is awful. Making this fandom toxic, so so much.

Them trying to erase book Annabeth because she is white, trying to cover her by painting on her, shaming artists, calling people that loves her racist...What do we do about this in pjo fandom? This fandom used to be so beautiful, but now. This people are not part of the fandom in my eyes, because real fans, would respect every version of the characters, love them with their anything, even flaws. They would protect this characters because they love them, so much. And not to mention this characters are the ones Rick wrote 20 years ago, they were with us for so long.

What do tumblr think about this I wonder? Since pjo fandom is pretty active here :3

[loulovingho]

listen it's no ones fault but your own, oliver was more then transparent multiple times that they were going to break up, you just decided to bury your heads in the sand and listen to lous fanfiction headcanons. if you couldn't see the writing on the wall even in episode 5 maybe that's your fault for not understanding basic media literacy but then again you're probably too stupid to realize that eddie saying "i'm straight" is a chekovs gun to dismantle it later on in the season. you probably took that at face value just like you took BT as some queer wonderful relationship when before this episode they didn't show any kind of physical affection of any kind and that funeral scene had many opportunities to cement BT and it didn't. Tommy could have kissed Buck boils on his face and all or they could have walked off hand in hand out of the graveyard instead Buck walked away without looking back, which is foreshadowing FYI. You got no one to blame but yourselves for not realizing Tommy is nothing but a plot device and the show didn't give a damn to deepen anything with him because they don't and never cared about him.

I’m sorry, you lost me at the “basic media literacy” crap because I’m convinced anyone who uses that line does not understand media literacy themselves.

Also, if we’re not taking into account that Oliver stated twice in an interview that the straight line was meant to cement that Eddie is straight, or that Ryan stated (yet again) that Eddie is straight, well… I guess we shouldn’t listen to Oliver when he says Tommy is done. Tommy is coming back guys!

Also lmao at kissing Buck’s boils because ewwwww wtf?! Who goes around kissing boils?? Keep me away from your mouth!

Also also, I actually could understand the breakup better if it was Buck that did it, after 805. Because I do agree with what some said that he seemed to be not as in it. Tommy on the other hand, all in.

And yes, it is very clear to me now that they never cared about Tommy or bucktommy, which is such a shame when the pairing did mean a lot to so many people. It was great representation (imo) and Tommy was given little pieces of backstory that would have been great to dive into.

[peachhcs]

omg you should write something of an example where will has dropped everything for samy

i'd do anything for you

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will blurb)

when samy struggles with the semester piling up will takes his chances to fly out and surprise her

1.4k words

hiiii on my posting spree fr fr. here’s a little something i wrote up :)) keep sending in requests!!!

au masterlist

samy couldn't do it. she'd been staring at the 8 problem calculus homework for almost three hours now and none of it was clicking. it should've been easy considering she took it in high school, but something about college calculus was 100x harder than what she did a year ago. to make it worse, will was on facetime attempting to help her through the problems, but it wasn't any luck and the tears were growing thicker in her eyes. 

"i don't get it. i don't get it. i don't get it," the brunette buried her face into her arms, trying to keep the sobs from escaping. 

"you're getting so close, baby. i promise. we can take a break if you want?" will offered through the screen. 

she shook her head, "no, i can't. i need to finish this. it's due tomorrow morning and it's already 12:30." 

both of them grimaced hearing how late it was already. will had early conditioning tomorrow which meant he needed to be up in five and a half hours, yet here he was on the call trying to help the youngest hughes through her homework. 

"well, you're super close to figuring it out. you just need to derive the function," will continued softly. 

"that's what i'm doing but it just doesn't make sense. i can't do this," if anyone knew anything about samy it was that she needed to do everything perfectly or else it wasn't good in her eyes. doing homework ended in hell like this sometimes because samy just couldn't pretend like she did it and hope for the best when she turned it in. all of it needed to be correct. 

it also didn't help that there was a lot going on. homework, practice, and classes were staring to pile up as mid semester rolled around and the poor girl was definitely drowning in everything. plus, she really wished her boyfriend was there so he would just hold her and tell her it would be okay. 

"you can do this, i promise. if you could do it in high school, you can do it now," the blonde encouraged, but he saw the solemn look on his girlfriend's face and the tears. it broke his heart seeing her so upset about the homework. 

"i can't, will. i can't do this. i'm so tired from everything. class, practice, homework—i just need a break or something. wish you were here," samy rambled through her frustration. will frowned even more, hating that he wasn't a step away to be able to comfort her and wipe her tears away. 

"i know, i wish i was there too. always thinking of you, sweet girl," his little pet name brought a little blush to her cheeks as she wiped her own tears away. 

she wouldn't ever ask him to come, especially with his collegiate season fully underway. she just couldn't ask him to do that for her, even if she really wanted to. she also knew he 100% would and samy didn't want will missing anything and getting yelled at by his coach just for her. 

"i'm thinking of you, too. i'll figure it out. i should let you go. you have practice in the morning," samy finally realized the time, lifting her head back up and wiping her puffy eyes from the last of her tears. the sight hurt will's heart. 

"are you sure? i don't mind staying up," he said. 

"i'm sure. i promise. you need sleep. i need sleep," samy nodded firmly. 

"okay, well text me if you need anyting else. i love you," the blonde blew a kiss to the phone. samy did the same back before they hung up for the night. 

she decided to just give up. it wasn't worth it anymore and she needed sleep. will, on the other hand, felt horrible. he hated that he couldn't be there for her. the blonde glanced at the clock on his desk knowing that in five hours he needed to be up and it definitely wouldn't feel good, but he didn't care. 

he looked over at gabe's sleeping figure in his bed. that boy could sleep through anything which was convenient when will was on call for a bit longer with samy. he reopened his computer and clicked into expedia. 

would coach kill him? probably. would he sit bench for missing a weekend of practice? definitely. would he get a stern talking to? most likely. did will care? no. 

samy obviously needed him and if he was being honest, he needed her too. with that, will started searching for the earliest flight out to michigan in hopes that a weekend surprise would ease all of the tension. 

—

the brunette was at her desk again after class. she forfeited that homework and just hoped her professor would give her some grace for attempting the problems. what samy didn't know was hannah busy on her side of the room texting with will about his arrival. 

ethan and mark were tasked with picking the blonde up from the airport. they were excited that the younger boy was coming to visit knowing how stressed samy had been the past few days. luckily, gabe and ryan would do their best to cover for will but honestly, the blonde didn't care about the consequences from coach. if they wanted to bench him, they were gonna go ahead and bench him. 

hannah quickly jumped off her bed when there was a small knock on the door. samy didn't hear because of her headphones on, so she was oblivious to will poking his head in with ethan and mark behind him, phones recording. 

"she's studying," hannah whispered and opened the door wider. will smiled to himself, setting his bag down and carefully reaching out to tap his girlfriend's shoulder. 

she turned her head, expecting hannah, but when she caught sight of her boyfriend's large grin she jumped out of her chair. 

"holy shit," the girl exclaimed, jumping into his arms without a second though. the others cheered in excitement. 

"hi, baby," will continued grinning as he held her tightly.

"what are you doing here? what about practice?" the brunette had a million questions as she pulled back to really take in will's face and his presence.

"skipped them," the blonde said like it wasn't a big deal.

"what do you mean you skipped them? i thought you couldn't skip practice or else you'd get in trouble," she was in disbelief as she glanced over at hannah, ethan, and mark.

"i mean yeah, but you needed me and i felt horrible that i couldn't be there for you," his words softened her expression and she melted back into him. 

"you skipped a whole weekend of practice just for me?" the younger hughes wondered, heart feeling full because she's never had anyone say or do that for her before. 

"yup. wanted to see my girl," will beamed. 

neither of them cared about the others still in the room as they connected their lips into a sweet kiss. the three awed, happy to see the couple so happy, especially samy. 

"i love you," the brunette smiled as they pulled away.

"i love you too," will smiled back and that's when mark and ethan decided to be mark and ethan by pouncing on the blonde's shoulders.

"it's good to see you again, man. we've got good things planned for this weekend," mark smirked while samy rolled her eyes at their antics.

"i'm sure. it's good to see you guys too," the blonde laughed along. 

samy went to hannah who's lips were turned up into a smirk that she kept that secret for a good 12 hours. "surprised?" the girl wondered.

"very. thanks for getting him here," samy hugged her roommate.

"of course. anything to get you less stressed for a few days," they shared a laugh. 

she eyed her boyfriend again and he immediately met her gaze probably feeling her stare on him. the two smiled again as will reached out to wrap his arm around her torso. 

"we'll give you two some space, but then we're getting out tonight!" ethan exclaimed as him and mark trailed out of the dorm. 

"i'll go bother amelia two doors down," hannah winked making samy roll her eyes and will flush. 

when it was just the two of them samy returned her gaze to her boyfriend who was already looking at her. she pinched his cheek.

"thanks for coming. i'm really glad you're here." 

"anything for you. i hope this weekend can ease your stress," will pinched her cheeks back before placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

"now that you're here it definitely will," and with that, the couple climbed into samy's bed for some some much needed rest and cuddles that the two haven't had since summer ended.

[salstray]

wish i could be apart of ~wip wednesday~ but i am

~too damn scared~

[yingren]

happy halloween i'll be spending the night in a haunted house called my drafts and inbox

[goldkirk]

as I'm going back over my past history and items and journals and years, I come across all sorts of things, like the pencil I saved from that so-precious memory from second grade, and a pair of flip flops I've been missing for two years, and [checks notes] the modern-high-school-AU-kidnapped-by-a-serial-killer story I wrote in late high school jdfsjdfsjkjlksfd

[sanderssidesthehouse]

Sanders Sides is really annoying (affectionate?) to me bc when we talk about 'canon' most people in the conversation are all going to have different ideas of what 'canon' is from each other. For example, for me (and I'm making this post bc I wanted to clarify what I in particular am talking about when I talk about canon) canon is the mainline canon videos, asides (and videos that were previously asides) as well as other dedicated videos (such as the grwm) are supplementary but not canon, and nothing else is canon. But then there are people who take clarifying tweets as canon. And that's fine! It just makes it a little confusing when people are talking about 'canon' but everyone is talking about a different range of information.

Like I'll personally admit I'm a little snobby about what I consider canon. I'm the type if person that thinks if the creator wants something to be canon, it should be stated, implied, or possible to extrapolate from the canon work. For example with Dungeon Meshi, I don't take Daydream Hour as canon information, but rather supplementary. (Not that I need to bc Ryoko Kui does put everything you need to know into the manga, seriously if you haven't read it, I can't recommend it enough.) But there are some people who do. And that's ok! I also don't take her tweets or interviews as canon. This is a general rule I have in what I take as canon across all fandoms.

And I think I've not been clear enough about what I mean by 'supplementary' and I mean like, for example in Ace Attorney I am again, a total snob, and I only count canon as AA 1-4 and AAI 1&2 and this is not an incredibly unpopular opinion but it's still... y'know. Not considering 2 main line games canon. And there are loads of reasons for that which we don't have time for in this post bc we're not actually talking about Ace Attorney, so to get to my actual point. I don't consider the audio drama CDs to be 'canon' but you bet your ass Mikeko is showing up in my fics (a CD only pet cat for Apollo) and I also just stated I don't view AA5 as canon, or at least the same canon (it's complicated) but I love playing around with Clay's concept and several of the other characters from 5+6. I'm just not talking about them when I'm talking strictly about canon.

Idk if I explained that well enough (and if I didn't, please ask me to clarify). I just feel like everyone should have access to the information that I am a snob with unpopular opinions and I love you even if you're less of a snob than me. In fact that would probably be a plus. You DO NOT have to agree with me, I love when people have their own opinions, 'it takes all sorts' and all that, yeah? I just wanted to clarify what I'm talking about when I mention canon.

[mcalhenwrites]

I'm not going to pretend it doesn't make me angry that I spend months and years trying to peddle my work to make ends meet, that I spend so much time mentioning my books and comms and everything, and people ignore that consisently... But the moment I finally break under the hopelessness - when it's obvious that it's fucking futile, that almost no one deems my work good enough to share with anyone else - suddenly they're concerned and scolding me. I'm working several jobs, bathing, generally keeping things clean, and I do this with several health problems including chronic pain. I found out that one of my cysts is growing and I may need to have it surgically removed. Which means potentially missing work to recover. Which means more money I lose. I spend so much time crawling out of the hole and it goes ignored, but the moment I just give up bc I don't have any strength left, suddenly that's my fault and I'm mentally sick. And that kind of makes me wish my entire situation upon people, and when they whine that it's hard, well fuck you, you thought I could ace it so surely you can, babe! I hate being angry about this, but it's just so exhausting to tell people who accuse me of not trying that I HAVE I HAVE SO FUCKING HARD AND YOU DID NOT PAY ATTENTION THEN Or you know you're attempting to gaslight me by claiming I didn't try despite that I obviously have worked my ass off trying, and that's so much fucking worse

[irregularbillcipher]

going over old fic notes and outlines and character talks with friends and it's always really funny when i get to the stuff i was developing early-mid 2019 where bill just literally kept kryptos around to rag on, and he genuinely just. did not like the man. like was just completely annoyed with his general existence. boy have things changed

[tripably]

the probably cis-privileged wonderment of how people know that they're trans or nonbinary or genderfluid or generally anything other that what they were assigned at birth

the following lowkey panic of how do people know they are exactly what they were assigned at birth

like what does gender feel like? how do people know? is my years-old "call me whatever pronouns you wish, i don't care" actually more than just me not giving a fuck?

the somewhat natural (?) next step of "wtf even is womanhood" like what is it? if we dismantle the traditional gender roles, on the basis that those are a cage designed to oppress everyone, what does it mean to be a woman, or a man, so that you can judge whether you're either or neither or both?

like if we exclude the societal negative effects of being a woman, on the basis that the goal is absolute equality between all genders and suffering is not a fun or healthy identifier, then gender-wise, what's left to being a woman that is excluded from being a man?

because it's not the things you do. it's also not the things you like. it's not what you're good at. it's not your job, it's not who you fancy, it's not how you dress, it's not how you behave, it's not how you carry yourself, and it's not how you think. i know what all it was, traditionally, but as we dismantle toxic masculinity, do we not dismantle everything else?

and so finally, if gender is none of those things, then, according to my logic, it must only be how you feel - so again, what on earth does gender feel like?????????

basically, is my cis-brain overthinking this whilst being incapable of empathising (if yes, a horror, how do i learn?), or is this a sign of a budding identity crisis (and can i just skip it then?) ?

[musical-chick-13]

It's also just so incredibly frustrating because people will take any example of a (usually male) character being horrible as some sort of "proof" that they're mentally ill (which, hmm, interesting that your automatic explanation for "why do they choose to treat other people horribly" is "they have a mental illness that just Makes Them Act Like That"), but there is no kind of nuanced or critical discussion of media that ACTUALLY (for ill or for good) tries to depict mental illness, and you try to recommend media that handles it well (that might even be good for other, completely unrelated reasons!!) and people just ignore you.

[eviltothecore13]

lots of people in this fandom CLAIM to love Gomez but when someone makes a post with Morticia as "Barbie is everything" and Gomez as "he's just Ken", it gets likes and reblogs

like...isn't that meme essentially saying "he's bland and boring/doesn't do anything interesting/is no good at anything and has nothing special about him, and no-one cares about him that much because he's just some bland generic guy with no personality beyond being a sidekick"?

do the majority of fans genuinely believe Gomez has no personality and no interesting traits?

[izzy-b-hands]

8/20's au-gust fill...is in progress but might also just get deleted and skipped lmao (it's still so wordy and not finished and I have zero confidence in this fucker. I think I would like it but then again I like verbose little weird novellas/short stories that are a packed slice of time and then I never hear from any of the characters in that universe/au ever again but think about them forever after. But that's definitely not to everyone's taste or even anyone's taste in general, broadly so. Things to consider)

today's (8/21) fill isn't happening. Tomorrow's fill, possibly.

thank fuck 8/23's fill has been done for ages now

and I'm picking away at fills for 8/24 and 8/25 for now (bc I can't sleep until I get more done, even if it's just a few lines that I wind up deleting)

[medicinemane]

The world is set on prescriptivism and... it doesn't jive with me

[bluetimeombre]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either.

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[this is long. i'm talking 5k words long so i've split it into two parts. anyway, azriel is the best bat boy and no i won't hear anyone out. i'm so excited to write for him and hope you enjoy. it's very angsty but that's what i love. i hope i can write more for him and maybe other characters if you like. it's been a while since i've actually read the series so if any information is wrong, do let me know. also it was my first time using the term y/n and yes, i cringed NOT PROOF READ... enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

Part 2 soon…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first, was the worst...

You were Rhys's half sister, the bastard daughter of his father. But when your mother had died giving birth to you, Rhysand's mother took you in and raised you with your brother and sister. You were so little and adorable that your sister loved you at once. Rhys did to, at some point of your life, you were sure he actually cared about you.

But when his mother and sister had died, his eyes shifted, he started to look at you with contempt. After all, you were only his half-sister. The worst half. He only kept you around because it's what his mother would have wanted.

And because there was no way Cassian and Azriel would ever let anything happen to you.

Besides, Rhysand knew when to use you.

Although Azriel was his spymaster, you were pretty good at staying swift-footed too. And you were frankly, very terrifying when you wanted to be.

You tread with power through the war camps, all of them looking at you as you went. All of their gazes wrecked with a predatory gaze. They either wanted to have their way with you, or kill you. Or both.

Rhys had said you could handle it, it was only supposed to be a check in. Cassian hadn't liked it, neither had Mor but it was Azriel who had almost- and for the first time- disobeyed his high lord to accompany you. But no, your brother wanted you to do this alone, so alone you would.

Just to show him you could.

'I can come with you,' Azriel had said, standing in your room as you tied your boots up. 'I won't even have to be seen.' At that, his shadows wrapped up your calf.

You smiled at them, as if they were his own pet. 'I'll manage just fine. Besides, i'm sure that's what Rhys wants, me needing a man.'

It had done nothing to calm your friend. The worry was still stuck between his brows, marring his handsome features. You'd held his cheeks, your wings hiding the two of you. His large ones (enough to swallow the both of you) over-lapped yours.

It was the last time you'd feel your wings.

The war camp wasn't as easy as you'd hoped. It was terror and horror in a place. You'd been to the court of nightmares, you'd gone to the slaughter of the spring court after they killed your family. But this, this was hell of another kind.

You had no idea how many days you'd been locked up, wrists bound in chains and hanging from the cell roof above you. Blood rolled down your arms from the force you'd tried to use to get them out. Your eye was swollen shut and your body trembled in pain.

All because they wanted to know your brothers secrets, and you wouldn't budge.

Your check was only supposed to be a day, but you were sure it had been longer. Days of endless pain and torture. Your uniform hung in rags of stripped material, your hair matted with blood and hiding your face.

You'd used the last of your energy to keep your walls up. You weren't anyone's mate, you didn't have anyone on the other end trying to feel what you felt. But should Rhys come looking (though you doubted it) you didn't want him to feel it. You didn't want anyone in your mind.

The gates opened with a sickening clash.

One of the Illyrian's knelt in front of you, his wings hiding those coming in behind you. 'Listen sweetheart. I don't want to make this any harder than it's about to get. All you have to do is tell us your brother's hide outs.'

You grit your teeth, staring down at the ground.

'So loyal, to a man who doesn't care if you live or die.'

Suddenly, your wings twitched as hands grasped them. Brute hands, the sort you wouldn't want touching any part of you.

Fear spiked in you, horror twisting your gut. 'What are you doing?'

'I told you I didn't want to get things messier, darling.'

You whipped your head from side to side, trying and failing to get a look at the assailants behind you. Your wings were being held apart, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away. You knew the sort of people they were, and what they did to girls like you.

That's when the begging started. 'No, no please. Anything. I'll do anything! Beat me, kill me, rape me, not my wings, please!'

'Anything?' the bastard asked, tongue poking out from his lips. 'Then tell me where your lord's hideouts are?'

You should betray him, you thought. He would never lose his wings for you. Perhaps it was stubbornness that kept you from, or maybe you were clinging to the last bit of love you want from him.

The bastard scoffed, 'anything, she says. Your brother has his own bitch wrapped around his finger.'

That's when they started hacking at your wings.

Your screams tore through your throat, blood spitting and dripping down your chin. Tears soon joined when they hacked away at the bone, the membrane, the flesh of it all. The three of them worked through your screams and your tears and your pain, tearing and cutting at it like it was nothing more than paper.

Not your whole life.

Let them hear you. You hoped your brother heard you, you hoped all and every court heard the pain.

Eventually, even you couldn't keep screaming. The only sound was the hacking away at your wings and the drops of blood.

'Now look at these beauties. I've got a perfect spot on my wall for these.'

They left you after that. There wasn't much more damage they could do. It already felt like they'd destroyed your life. You had never really thought about your wings, they were just part of you, as much as your wit or hair was. But they'd took it and now, you felt empty. Never would you fly with Azriel again, or use your wings to smack Cassian over the head.

Rhys, your dear brother, had took that from you.

The days blended in together after that. You were pooled in your own tears and blood, vomiting up anything they forced down your throat. No, they'd made it very clear they didn't want you dead. They just took pride in making it feel like you were.

At some point, you'd stopped reacting to the gate opening. You let them do whatever they wanted with you. Your wrists were still chained, arms still hanging up, your clothes hanging on your thin body in strips of dirt.

'No...' you heard a mumble. 'What have they done to you?'

Suddenly, the chains gave way and you lurched forward, with no strength to catch you. Luckily, you didn't have to, as strong and warm arms pulled you into his chest.

'Hey, wake up, look at me, dammit.'

Azriel.

You'd know the voice in the darkest days, in the pit of your worst nightmare you'd know.

You try to speak but your head's heavy, your lips are stone and your arms can't lift to hold onto him. You're exhausted, you're dying. The only thing you could do use all your strength to try to open your eyes.

'Please, please, look at me. You have to look at me,'

You were trying, you wanted to tell hm, snap at him, but you couldn't.

You felt Azriel shake, or maybe you were. Then, there was wet drops landing on your cheeks- you flinched.

'I'm sorry, i'm sorry. Rhys! Rhys! hurry up, please!' he was screaming. You'd never heard him scream before.

You heard the rush of feet at the cell doors, you knew it was your brother. You knew it from the presence of him, from the shuffling of feet and chocked sob. Your brother didn't cry, least of all for you.

'Her wings, oh mother, her wings,' said Azriel, his voice barley above that of a whisper.

Your wings. You didn't need reminding. They were gone, long and far gone. You were without a part of you, the very part of your soul that loved to be free. Never would you watch the stars up close or fly over everyone. Never race Cassian or make jokes with Az.

No, this would destroy you.

'y/n,' your half-brother called. 'No, y/n. Can you hear me?'

Your lips parted, mumbling. 'Hurts.'

Azriel's grip on you tightened. 'I know, we're gonna get you out of here, just hold on for me.'

You wanted to tell him you would hold on, you'd always need to hold on to him. That, no matter what he asks, you'd do it. To kill, to live, to breathe, to die.

And that's when it clicked. Amongst all the pain and the doubt. In your blood soaked clothes. In the fear you wouldn't make it, there was a tug. Weak and one-sided, but there. You knew you'd be safe with Azriel, knew you would always be with him.

Mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The pain subsided to a dull ache, there and beating but not excruciating. You were warm and covered in a soft material. Nothing like the cell you'd been kept in. Your fingertips sunk into something soft- a bed. Your bed. It was familiar in its lavender scent to you and the silk wrapped around you gave you some semblance of warmth.

Your wings.

Even coming to consciousness was difficult. You were exhausted but light, without the weight of wings holding you down. You'd never realised how much you needed to feel that weight, to feel pulled down in order to be free.

Gone, all gone.

Your hand twitches around something cold, a shadow holding your hand, creeping up your side.

'You're awake, thank the couldron.'

It wasn't Azriel, master of the shadows. It wasn't your mate. Mate. The word replayed like a terrible song in your mind.

How dare the mother do this to Az. How dare he- nothing but loyal and kind- get stuck with a person made in darkness, who bled shadows, who's heart was so full of hate there wasn't room for love. They'd cursed Az, with you.

But luckily it wasn't him, it was Rhysand.

'It really happened,' you whispered, voice hurting from the screams.

He sighed. 'I'm sorry, i'm so sorry. We-we thought you weren't going to make it, you'd lost so much blood.'

In spite of the pain in your shoulders, you made a shift, turning from him as he ranted on about your condition.

'y/n... sister, please,' he said. He'd never called you sister before. He'd always been content to treat you just like you worked for him.

'Leave me alone.' you couldn't bare to look at him, couldn't bare to face him. The shadows at your hand grew heavier, as if more were piling on. You stretched your fingers away from them, trying to get them off you.

'Are you in any pain?' asked Rhys.

'Get out,' you mumbled.

The end of your bed dipped where Rhys settled, hand splayed on the covers, begging for your hand. 'y/n.'

'Get out!' you snapped, body tense and straining. You felt your wounds open up, blood wetting the bandage around you. But you didn't care. You'd happily bleed if you couldn't fly. A part of you, sick part of you wanted to be left there. It would be better than false sympathy.

Be better than your mate being disgusted.

'Get out!' you yelled again, voice tearing through an aching throat.

'I just want to help you! please, let me help you!' said Rhys, standing from your bed and walking around, trying to face you.

'I don't want your help!' you screamed. You reached for the closest thing you could, a jug of water and chucked it toward him. You aim was terrible, marred with pain and exhaustion. 'Get out!'

Though hesitant, Rhysand slowly started walking back to your door. He did it all looking at you, his hands out to show he wasn't gonna hurt you, but you didn't care. You went for the glasses next and chucked them but they landed against the door which he disappeared through.

Before it slid close you caught sight of Cassian , Mor and Azriel. All crowded, all waiting to see you.

You'd be happy if you never let them see you again.

'Can we see her?' you hear Mor ask.

'Give her time,' said Rhys.

The shadows at your hand grew heavier, darker, tighter.

'Go away!' you yelled at them. To anyone else, you probably looked crazy, screaming to darkness. But the shadows understood. They departed, slithering away and under the crack of your door where you could see the shadows of feet.

Tumbling from bed, you stumbled over and locked the door, leaning on it to and catching your breath. Your nightgown was starting to get sticky with blood all over again. When you closed your eyes, you pictured the cell, the rough hands holding you down, the chain keeping you up.

And the pain, it all washed over you. The hacking at your back, the sting of a slap. It hit you like a tone of bricks as you slid to the floor.

There was a knock, rattling the door.

'y/n,' Cassian. 'Please let us in.'

Us. You felt him on the other side. Your mate, his presence lingering. His shadows under the door, wanting to come in but keeping their distance.

He didn't know. It hadn't snapped for him, you could tell. It was one tug on your end, a chord in your heart. At least he couldn't feel what you did. At least you could shoulder it alone.

'Please.' his voice was almost your un-doing. He sounded so sad, so desperate. It hurt you just to think you were hurting him.

Tears streamed down your face as your curled your fingers into a tight fist. You assumed Mor had left with Rhys, leaving you there with the males.

Cass was always like a brother to you. Granted- a brother you had slept with once or twice- but he was your best friend. You'd always been close to him. But you'd always been good, a happy person.

You couldn't be that for them now, perhaps ever again.

It lasted like that for hours. Cassian and Az begging to come in, you curling into a ball with tears down your cheeks and blood down your back.

Eventually, they gave up. You couldn't hear them anymore and the shadows of their boots had disappeared.

Except Azriel's shadows that still lingered under your door. Maybe he'd ordered them to be there while they left you.

Eventually, you managed to find your footing on shaking legs. Your room was large, one of the largest. It was just as much a mess as it was when you'd left for you mission, clothes thrown over the place, books propped open on the pages you'd left them on. Everything was the same but could never be again.

It took you longer than you'd care to admit to get to your windows and throw the curtains close. Candles light at your request, the house looking after you as it had since you were a child.

You caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror. It seemed smaller, everything in the room felt too large and you too small, as if you were being swallowed by the expanse of it.

Your frame was small in the mirror, your hair disarrayed. Your eyes were red and shutting of their own accord from the tears that had drained you. The starving in the cells had made you look weak, made you feel weak.

And your back. There was no more looming black figures there, no more fluttering. There was just nothing. In spite of the ache as you lifted your arm, you felt around your back, feeling the hitch there, the lump from where they'd been torn from you.

You cry. You sob. You scream.

The scars were long and the nightdress was sticking to you by the blood you'd shed. All you could do, was hold yourself up as your body wracked with tears.

A breeze came from your windows, shadows tugging at the curtains.

You felt him before you saw him. You wanted to tell him to leave you but you couldn't talk without chocking. Without feeling like you couldn't breath.

Azriel had you in your arms before your knees could hit the ground. He fell with you, softening your body on the floor. His arms held you into his chest, his legs caging you into his body. His head rested on yours as he held you. He didn't try to talk, he didn't try to help. It was just him, you and his shadows.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel remembered dozing off with you, his head on yours. His arms holding you into him, as if it was up to him to keep the sadness away and take it for you.

Afterall, you were his best friend. He should have been there for you, and he'd failed terribly by letting you get hurt and your wings stolen from you. He could hate himself every day for it, for letting you down. But it would never amount to what you felt for yourself and that killed him.

He could see it in the way you cried, in the way you were already keeping everyone out. He'd rather die than let you go through all the pain alone.

When his hands had been scarred by his brothers, you'd help heal him, tell him about everything he still was and all the power he still held in his hands. In the worst days, when he didn't let anyone touch him, he let you.

It was always you.

Azriel wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, or how deep. He was sure he was still with you, still in your bed.

His shadows crept up on him, engulfing him slowly and whispering to him. Your name, just your name on repeat. It was enough to lull him back into sleep, to keep him calm.

Gone. Missing. y'n. Roof.

He shot up and ran fastest than he ever had in his life. It was as if he'd never been asleep but had been fighting a battle with the way he raced over.

He burst through the doors, the cold hight air hitting him.

You stood facing the stars, your bloody back to him. It wasn't as much blood as when he'd found you, but it was still enough to put a lump in his throat.

Immediately his shadows fell to you, cascading down your body and wrapping around your waist. There was a breeze in the air, pushing your hair back and exposing more signs of the pain and torture you must have gone through.

'I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking,' you said. You didn't even have to turn to him. The shadows probably told you enough.

'Why are you up here?' he asked, walking to you slowly and with careful steps. As if every step closer could you push you away from him.

'I'll never feel the win properly again,' you answered.

Azriel gulped down his own pain. You’d never sounded so small. ‘Can you get away from the ledge?’

'I'm not on the ledge.'

'You're too close for my liking.'

'Leave if you don't like it.'

'Don't do this,' he said.

'Do what?' you asked, folding your arms over your chest. You were cold, out in the hight but you wanted to see the stars. Needed to see them.

'Make me leave. Make everyone leave you. I know that's what you're doing. It's what you do every time,' you could feel him dawning closer. His shadows were all around you, almost drowning you.

‘Every time,’ you scoff, stepping down and turning on him. ‘It’s not every day you lose your wings Azriel! But don’t let me stop you from leaving, flap them and go!’ You yelled, unable to stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted to be alone.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

'You jump and I’ll catch you,' he said. He was a step away, he could just reach out and touch, just a gentle caress. 'I swear it, whatever you do, I’ll follow. I’m not letting you get away.’

He watched your back shudder as he reached out, brushing knuckles against your shoulder blade. He heard your sharp inhale follow.

'Don’t think I won’t follow, y/n.'

Finally, you turned around in his shadows. You couldn’t meet his eyes but at least you could face his chest.

His hands were gentle on your shoulder as he rubbed it gently. 'Can I get Madja to clean you up?' He asked.

You nodded as he led you away. You truly did not deserve your mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fifty-two years later...

When Amarantha had trapped the high lords of Prythian under the mountain, it hadn't be a conscious choice to follow your half-brother down. How Amarantha had allowed it, you weren't sure, but perhaps she wanted to use you just like her brother, or she thought it would bring more pain for him to see you suffer under there too.

You and Rhysand had barley spoke the last two years.

It had took you almost two months to heal fully enough to leave your room, another few months to face your family again. But even then, everyone knew something had changed in you. You didn't laugh as loud or smile as wide.

Rhysand was careful to ever let you out on a mission. Mor tried to take you out every night. Cassian spent all day every day with you and Azriel- he'd healed you better than any nurse.

Still, you had not told him he was your mate.

Still, you thought he wouldn't want it.

Still, you cared for your brother enough to not want him to go alone.

But being under the mountain, you could avoid your mate. At a painful price.

Until her. Rhys's mate. He hadn't shut up about her since he first met her, much to your dismay as you had to sit around and listen- having absolutely nothing better to do. And it only got worse when she turned up under the mountain. She was declaring her love for Tamlin- again, annoying your brother, and throwing Lucien into danger- which rather angered you. You had nothing against the ginger.

Rhysand had once sent you to find the girl to summon her as part of a bargain he'd made. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to look too forceful. You'd been lucky enough to find the two tangled up in each other against a cold wall, clothes ripped and hips moving together.

'Well, well well,' you'd intterupted.

Tamlin all but growled at you, but feyre was looking over you- evidently confused. She had no idea who you were. You, in your skimpy outfit that Amarantha kept you in (they all dipped low at your back, showing off your scars) and your eyes that were like a night sky.

'Amarantha's looking for her pet and Rhysand is looking for his. Honestly, i'd be a bit more worried if I were you. You know, considering Lucien still has an eye to lose.'

The two parted with your words as you sent Tamlin back to his master, the high lord glaring at you as you went. While Feyre tried to fix herself.

'Rhysand is over there, better not keep him waiting.' That was the first time you met her, having no idea how much trouble she'd be worth. The family that she'd become.

But Rhysand made sure you knew it all. From when the bond snapped in him and he'd stumbled. He ranted and ranted as they climbed out.

If only you were so talkative about Azriel. If only you could talk about him with your brother. But you'd tried not to painfully think about him. Climbing out of the mountain. It was all you could think of.

Maybe he'd have forgotten you? it had been fifty years. He'd probably realised how happy he could be without having to take care of you.

Rhys was allowed out of the mountain, he'd felt the breeze in his hair but you hadn't in fifty long years. You stood there a moment, bathing in the warmth as everyone left, as everyone ran off for their families and courts and the war that was inevitable. Eventually, Rhys offered you his arm. 'Shall we go home?'

He winnowed you there, on the balcony of your home. In a cloud of black smoke, the two of you appeared.

He went first, slipping through the doors slowly- like it could all be taken from them any minute.

You were hesitant, taking a moment to glance at the landscape behind you. It hadn't changed, not at all. The mountains were still there, everyone was still alive. Your home. In the last years it hadn't felt like home, but how could anywhere ever feel so close in your heart.

When you could find your feat again, you managed to slip through the doors. You were suddenly aware of how little clothing you were wearing, just enough to cover your chest and run down your legs. A chill settled down your back, your scars would be on show. What a way to great them all after fifty years.

Mor had her arms around Rhys's shoulders, crying into his shoulder.

Behind them you caught Amren, with something like tears in her eyes. You were just about to tease her before a body barrelled into yours in a blur of red syphons and your feet were lifted from the ground.

'Cassian.'

His arms tightened around you. You shoulder started to dampen with tears, his tears. The last time you'd seen him cry around you was when he'd seen a dog with only three legs. 'I'm keeping you on a leash from now on, stupid idiot.'

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a smile gracing your lips. 'Is that a promise?'

He held you longer, tighter, not daring to let you go but at least settling you on the ground. He sighed against your head, controlling himself. 'He's missed you, you know,' he said. He was the only one you'd told, about your mate. 'Now that you're back, tell him. He deserves to know.'

Cassian slowly pulled away, holding you at arms length and smiling at you. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead before parting to Rhysand.

Mor approached you next, slapping you in the arm.

'Ow!'

'Why would you follow him?' she snapped.

You blinked at her before she took you by the arm she'd slapped and embraced you, like a sister would. You dared not looking over her shoulder to find the one who hadn't come to you. Maybe Cass had got it wrong...

Mor pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

Azriel was as beautiful as the day you left him. His hair was the same length, he was the same height. He was just as you left him. It was hard to tell fifty years had passed on him.

And inside of you, tugging in your soul and heart you felt the familiar string of gold throbbing. But you still didn't feel that tug. You'd hoped it would have faded from you after half a year separated. Or at least have snapped for him. But no such relief.

He approached you, slowly. As if he was scared of scaring you away. But you just stood there.

His arms were delicate and soft around you as he brought you into his chest. He still smelled the same, cedar wood and shadows. Shadows that wrapped around you, shielding you from the rest of the room. They caressed you, head to two.

You held onto each other for what could have been another fifty years, but this time, it wasn't so painful.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Although nobody wanted to part after yours and Rhysand's return, you were exhausted. A trip to Rita's could wait another night or two. The only thing you wanted to do was hide in your room.

Strangely, your room looked lived in. As if somebody had moved in since you'd left. A moment of anger replaced grief. Had they brought someone else and given them your room? but then you smelt it, Az.

Lying in bed that night, exhausted, you couldn't find sleep. You closed your eyes and pictured Amarantha. You'd never been afraid of her, you weren't afraid of anything. But you re-played the horrors. Watching servants beat Feyre, watching Amarantha use your brother and on the occasion, even you. How she flaunted. How the most powerful lords were weak.

Under your door, shadows seeped in, rushing across the room to you. You smiled, watching your hand disappear in their darkness.

'Azriel?' you called.

There was shifting on the other side of the door before he slipped in, clicking it shut behind him.

You sat up in bed, shadows moving with you. 'Couldn't sleep?'

He wondered in, looking around your room. 'Sleeping's been... hard.'

You rolled over, opening the blanket and nodding your head. You couldn't think about the bond, not yet. Not while he looked so.... ruined. Beautiful- the most beautiful person in the world, but sad. As he climbed in next to you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his wings too.

His eyes scanned over you. You were in a thin and silk night dress that only brushed your knees, but the way he looked at you, mother you could've been naked. 'Fifty years,' his voice sounded barley controlled. 'Fifty years. You followed your brother down for fifty years? Why would you do that?'

You gulp. 'I would've done it for any of you. Except maybe Amren, she'd probably enjoy the peace for fifty years.'

You go to brush your hair back but Azriel seizes your wrist. He was angry. That's why his voice was rough and his chest rising and falling with barley controlled emotions. Could he feel it? your nerves, your lying?

'You left. You should've stayed, y/n, you know Rhysand didn't want you under there with him,' he said. 'For fifty years I haven't been able to sleep through a night thinking about the pain you must have been going through. After I swore to keep you safe, after I promised to catch you every time!'

'You couldn't have stopped me. You didn't promise, Az.'

His grip grew tighter. 'It went without saying.'

You looked around his eyes, seeing the pain and grief there also. Slowly, you brought your other hand up. He flinched as you took his cheek but eventually settled as your thumb ran over his cheekbone. 'I won't leave again, ok? I promise.'

He gulped, letting go of your wrist and looking down. 'I slept here,' he mumbled, but just loud enough to hear you. 'I couldn't sleep in my room. This was the only place I could rest.'

Your heart stuttered. Your hand dropped from his cheek. This man was your mate. Your mate. Your only love, whether or not the cauldron deemed it.

Azriel took your hesitation. 'I-i'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that. I've probably ruined your one place of peace-'

'Stay,' you said, before you could think of what you were asking. 'Sleeping wasn't exactly easy under the mountain either. I just trust I won't have to put a wall of cushions between us.' as if you wanted that. As if you haven't thought about his calloused hands all over you.

Azriel smiled and stayed the night.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The third time he almost lost you, broke him...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[parfaitblogs]

hii, can I please ask a blurb of post prison spencer and shy reader? And sometimes he teases her but not out of malice? Like when she talks about something and doesn't look at anyone in the eyes to focus on what she's saying (that's what I do) and he moves his head in her sight so their eyes meet?

spencer reid x shy!reader. fluff/comfort. 0.6k words. post prison reid. use of "sweet girl". 

a/n: i wrote this in like ten minutes tops because there is something sooo special to me about comfort spencer. i literally loved writing this. i was giggling and kicking MY OWN feet. i'm all for angsty!doesn't know how to accept love after prison spencer, but i also need us to start the movement of fluffy!literally worships the ground you walk on after prison because you show him so much love and support he doesn't know what else to do spencer. i love him and you for this request thank u

spencer reid who likes to listen to you talk when he gets out of prison, because talking sometimes seems like too much for him. who will sit down with you on the couch that is so perfectly moulded for your two bodies, and let you talk your entire way through whatever movie he agreed to watch for you because you always talk better when your eyes are fixated on a screen.

spencer reid who will wordlessly nod along when you start talking about your day when you're in bed together, using your rambling as a distraction from the things that keep him awake at night. whose hands will probably be running through your hair while you talk animatedly with your hands, eyes staring up at the ceiling.

spencer reid who will go into the bathroom with you because "showering alone is so boring" and "i need someone to talk to!" who will then sit outside the shower and listen to you talk some more, a shower curtain separating your two bodies as you stare at the tiled wall in front of you, hands preoccupied with shampooing your hair. spencer reid who will sit with you in his lap in the study, arms around your waist. who will answer your questions about prison because you say them with such a softness he learns he cannot keep secrets from you. and there are stars in your eyes that tugs at his heart strings every time something he says upsets you. whether it be the things he did to survive or something as mundane as his daily routine that was so vastly different to your own. and because you never look at him, but when he talks you do, and he would do anything to keep your eyes fixated on him for longer.

spencer reid who will then ask you a question about your own time alone whilst he was in prison, watching as you avert your eyes almost instantly from him, staring at whatever you could pretend was interesting behind him. who’d entangle a hand in your hair as you speak, you not thinking anything of it until he is tugging on it to pull your hair back – so, so gently, because you had learned that even after prison, he treats you with the care one would treat chinaware. spencer reid who will raise an eyebrow when you stare at him silently in confusion, convincing you to keep speaking, only to slide his hand from your hair on the back of your head to your jaw, fingers tilting your head towards him because "you keep looking away from me, sweet girl. stop it."

spencer reid who will be so confused when you stammer out a response, losing all ability to speak because he's looking at you like that and his eyes are boring holes into your own, and your heart is fluttering and you're flustered and he realises why you never look at him. and he thinks it is so funny because "i've been your boyfriend for how many years?" and you protest that he must be an awful profiler if he's never noticed this before. and so he will poke your sides until you're a laughing mess, and then he will get all serious and hold your face in place and tell you to continue, rewarding you with a kiss on some part of your face every time you manage to get a sentence out, until the reward is so nice you're rambling like you usually do, but this time you're looking at him and he is so, so in love with you and he has to actively fight the urge to kiss you every half a second. and screw prison and screw trauma, because for a brief moment he decides it was all worth it to get you right here, right now.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡