#because it's not really how I'd have chosen to write it

[thevalkyriesshadow]

People saying SJM will write Elucien because she's not going to make poor baby Lulu (PBL) suffer again because he's one of her favorites ....

My brother in Christ.

They're ALL her favorites. It's her fucking book. They're her fucking characters.

Now if we were going to RANK her favorite characters, I still don't even think Lucien would make top 5. He's not a part of the IC for a reason - and considering that SJM has chosen to write about them over him - tells us enough about the ranking of her faves. It's always going to be:

1. Rhys / Feyre

2. Nesta

3. Azriel

4. Cassian

5. Elain

6. Amren

7. Mor

8. Lucien

And honestly placing Lucien at 8 is still debatable. His storyline has been reduced more and more with every single book. I'd say he was definitely up there with Feyre in Book 1 - but since ACOMAF his character quality and page persona has declined steadily. Significantly.

Idk if y'all have ever read a book or written anything - but typically a writer who likes a certain character ... writes about that character. A lot more than she writes about her other characters. That character might've started as a minor one or even background character - but the writer likes them so much they find a way to put them in the page more, finds a way to work them into the story. See what SJM did with Ithan Holstrom in CC. With Fenrys. They were introduced as minor characters and then became a big part of the story.

The exact OPPOSITE is happening with Lucien. It's not a slow burn - it is erasure.

If he is such a favorite - where is he?

Also what makes you think SJM isn't going to make her favorites suffer? Y'all saw what Aelin went through. Saw what Rhys went through. I don't like to compare traumas - but Lucien's trauma pales in comparison to some of the other harrowing backstories we've seen in ACOTAR itself. Genuinely I think whatever Rhys, Elain, Nesta, Azriel, Emerie, Gwyn went through is far worse than what Lucien went through. Not saying he didn't suffer - but the argument that SJM wouldn't have him lose his mate because she likes him is so ridiculous.

Let's stick to the books. And I mean the actual text in the books - not farfetched headcanons and fanfics and theories and claims of extrapolation "foreshadowing".

SJM can change her mind and her opinions and her interviews and her Pinterest boards. What she can't change is the story she's laid out for 4 books now. What she can't change is the direction her characters are taking her in and the words she's already written.

Hi anon

I hope you feel better after getting that off your chest... sometimes you just gotta rant

BUT

I would like to make a few points

1. I do write stories (beyond fanfics) and yes I have favorite characters I write but if I spent as much time writing about a character as SJM did with Lucien, that character has a story to be told. He's connected to many characters in the story and is mated to one of the Archeron sisters (who the stories being told in ACOTAR are ultimately about). To say he is being written off the page just because he wasn't as prevalent in ACOSF for example is a bold statement (he really had no ties to Nesta's storyline so it makes sense he wasn't in it as much) but a storyline he is connected to? Elain's - whose book we will inevitably get.

2. I don't like how you say his trauma is not as bad as the others. It's not okay to compare people's traumas. What might not seem like an emotional/psychological/physical traumatic event to one person doesn't mean it's not devastating to another.

3. SJM can absolutely change what she's already written... She is the god of ACOTAR afterall. She can do as she pleases. A perfect example of this is when she retconned that Azriel was present in Sangravah when it was attacked. Making him the first one there, the one to slaughter all the soldiers in one room, and save Gwyn from further harm. Previously, we were to believe he was just informed, but SJM changed that with what she wrote in ACOSF.

Hope you have a wonderful day anon!

[forcedhesitation]

oh? something mizora said actually being worth listening to??

this is an interesting bit of foreshadowing to ansur being dead/wyll being the true "heart of the gate!"

[chuluoyi]

𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒐 !

- gojo satoru x reader

valentine's is around the corner and word has it that you're going on a date with geto...? no way! gojo is going to make sure that you're saying no! ever wonder how gojo finally gets you to become his? be prepared for a confession of a lifetime!

genre/warnings. crack, semi-failed love confession (it's gojo, what do you expect?), poor geto, and of course, fluff !!

notes. i genuinely love writing this :') loser gojo has always have a soft spot in my heart *sighs* i'd recommend listening to beautiful & because of you - beast (highlight) for this !!

a part of gojo's love entries and valentine's special !

Satoru doesn't really pay attention to holidays. To him, it's all the same—he can turn everyday into a holiday if he wanted to.

However, Valentine's Day is an exception. He knows it and is somewhat excited even. Why, you ask? Because this is the moment he has chosen. He's going to make you his on that very day.

He had everything planned out to perfection: skylit rooftop, bouquet of roses, eloquent speech (at least, he thought so). He was going to charm the pants out of you and it'd be a smooth-sailing event, he was sure of it!

At least until he heard that life-shattering gossip—

"I saw Geto-san asking her out for the 14th just now!"

"What?" he snapped his head in Haibara's direction, who was eagerly sharing with him and the others what he had allegedly heard, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

"Ehh, not bad," Shoko mused with a hint of amusement, casting a curious look his way. It was obvious she was enjoying this.

Nanami let out a thoughtful hum. "That's quite a surprise. I didn't think they'll go that fast."

"But how?!" Satoru suddenly exploded, grabbing Haibara by the collar. "How did that slimy bangs go from saying nothing to asking her out?!"

"O-oh Gojo-san! Don't squish me, please!"

And from then onwards, his focus was set: preventing you from falling into Suguru's grimy hands. Absolutely no way! He was so close already. He was on the cusp of winning your heart, and he knew it!

Now, you laughed at his jokes, you didn't ignore him as much, and you even asked him if he was okay after his recent mission! That was huge progress, even Satoru knew as much. And no, even if it was Suguru, he refused to hand you over to him.

On the 14th, you were going to be his... even if it cost him everything!

Gojo Satoru is annoying. You supposed you knew that already, but over these past few days, his ability to get on your nerves somehow had ascended to a wholly new level.

"I'm telling you, you should go with me! I'm going to take you somewhere amazing!" he practically demanded right up in your space, prompting you to let out a long-drawn sigh.

By all means, his attempts to woo you were all lame. He didn't know the first thing about being humble, and logically, you should have been more inclined to push him away.

‘Should’ being the operative word, because, somehow, over the past few weeks, you've started to see his antics as not just bearable but even endearing in a way. No one had ever pursued you with such relentless zeal before him, and it became increasingly difficult to overlook the way your heart fluttered in response to his (occasionally dubious) attempts to win you over.

So, right now, it really wasn't because you were playing hard to get. "Gojo, I've told you already. I can't on that day, I've already got plans," you sighed, exasperated.

He shot you a glance, his expression shifting into a brazenly raised eyebrow. "With Suguru?"

"How do you—"

"Tell him no," Satoru pressed, scowling. "Tell him I asked you first."

"In fact, he asked first—"

“Just say no!”

“No!”

"You're seriously going on a date with him?" he questioned, almost in disbelief. "And what, you're going to confess to him too?"

His tone didn't sit well with you, causing your irritation to rise. You frowned and retorted boldly, "And if I do? It's not like you can do anything about it anyway."

Wait, that actually hurts. Satoru was now irked too. Hadn't he shown enough for you to understand just how much of a big deal it was for him? Didn't you know he actually likes you so much that it made him toss and turn on some nights?

(No, you didn't really know. He just made himself look stupid most of the time. You were not that impressed.)

"As a matter of fact, I can," he began, expression turning into a slight sneer. "I can and I will if you still insist on going with him."

"Wha?"

"I'm going to crash your party so hard, you'll wish you hadn't gone behind my back. The audacity he has, trying to steal my girl!"

"You sound like a creep," you couldn't help blurting out, wide-eyed. "And I'm not your girl—"

"You—are quite heartless." His gaze on you behind that glasses hardened, and you were suddenly taken aback by how upset he looked. "I'm giving you my all—I think about you all day and night I think it's actually making me crazy!"

You stared at him, genuinely dumbfounded this time, realizing that somehow or another now, he was pouring his emotions out.

"Nothing I say will make sense to you, but whatever—" he exhaled sharply in frustration. "It's always you—in my mind. Compared to anyone else now, you're the prettiest. And if you were to ask me to pull a Blue on Ichiji right now, I'd probably do it! You see now—what you have done to me?"

"Ichiji? Gojo—!"

"You might think I did all of this for your attention, and yes, you’re right! That's how much you've messed with my head!"

. . .

Oh, now he had really gone and done it, hadn't he? He had laid it all bare, every last bit of it—the chaotic heap stacking up as his botched confession. And there were no roses, no rooftop, and none of the grandeur he had envisioned. This was so not how he wanted it to go at all.

Satoru grimaced, suddenly regretting this turn of events. He had seen it coming already—you calling him a total weirdo and then leaving him in the dust. Just the thought was enough to make his heart squeeze. Wanting to escape before it became a reality, he abruptly turned on his heel and walked away from you.

He barely made it a few steps away before he felt a firm tug on his arm.

"Wait! Gojo!"

You grabbed his arm tightly, forcing him to turn towards you. Satoru stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, his lips pressed into a massive pout. Yet, beyond that display of defiance, you could discern a hint of heartbreak splashed across his face, and it made your stomach churn.

Always trying to make you look at him. Always trying to get you to smile through his lame jokes. Making himself stupid on purpose. Frustrated when his feelings went unnoticed… All Gojo Satoru did thus far finally added up.

So it's true... he likes me this much...?

In that moment, warmth flooded through you. This idiot. Everyone said he was no good, but your heart couldn't help but leap, and a flurry of butterflies seemed to dance in your stomach.

In this instant, everything seemed to fall into place. Any doubt you might have melted away, leaving only a sense of certainty about your feelings. Everything just feels absolutely right.

"I'm not going on a date with Geto, you know."

"Huh?" Upon hearing that, he swiveled to face you, his gaze intensively searching your face for further explanation.

With a huff, you elaborated, "It's for my Grade One promotion mission. Geto-san asked to join me for it."

"But why? He doesn't need to—"

"He wants to tag along to absorb more cursed spirits, you see..."

"Oh, amassing new little friends, I see," Satoru quipped, face scrunching up distastefully.

His mood seems better now, you noted. You exhaled, your heart suddenly felt like it was pounding louder. "So, you've got the wrong idea. It sucks but my Valentine's day is going to be spent on a mission."

A beat passed by before he finally spoke again, still sheepish and avoiding eye contact. "I'm coming with you too, for that... mission or whatever."

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. "And?"

"And... huh?"

"That's all? Nothing else you want to add?"

And suddenly his eyes sparkled back to life. Beyond those ridiculous round glasses, his bright, yet steadfast eyes met yours with such vibrant shine it made your chest thump so hard and face flush with matching intensity.

Silly, silly boy... liking me so much that he turns stupid.

"Actually, I've got plenty more to say!"

With an indignant snort, you released his arm. "Well, I'm waiting. Because what you just said before has to be the most underwhelming confession I've ever heard."

"Wha? Hey! That wasn't my confession! Just you wait, I'll do it over, and this time, I'll make you swoon so hard you'll forget how Suguru's face looks like!"

And on the night of February 14, he truly surpassed himself once again in making a terrible confession, and yet it still signified the day you truly became his—the beginning of your life together, which along the way, would be filled with more shenanigans, endless laughter and of course, love.

Epilogue

"Haibara, I really thought you're the most sensible here! I can't believe you!"

Suguru massaged his temples with utter grievance. So this was the cause of his headache and constant death stares Satoru gave him these past few days—the three people gathering in front of him!

"I've told you already, Nanami—Gojo is really going through with it," Shoko cackled with utter satisfaction. "Now, pay up."

"Ieiri-san... sigh— from now on, I'm not participating in your bets anymore."

Haibara, who went with Shoko's suggestion to incite this, sheepishly laughed. "Ehe, Geto-san, all that ends well is well though, no?"

"Satoru was really about to skin me alive! Ugh, and you almost ruined my date too..."

"Eh? Date?" All three sets of eyes suddenly fixed on him in utter astonishment. "Who?"

-> continue to 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 (with geto suguru—soon!)

[crowgvts]

How to start a pair of punk patch pants

(a potentially really shitty tutorial)

I've seen a couple videos on this but a lot of them seem to skip out on some really key information and tricks so I thought I'd just write a probably really long and really rambly post about it!!!

Step one: gathering supplies

In terms of supplies the main things you'll need are:

The pants

Approximately 4 rolls of dental floss (this can change depending on number of patches and your pant size)

A needle with a big enough eye to fit the floss through

Acrylic paints

Brushes

Scrap denim or other scraps of fabric for the patches

Pins

Some kind of marker or pencil that will work on the fabric you've chosen

I will be going into some detail below about why you need each of these items!!

The pants themselves

personally I prefer either using a pair of jeans I already own or thrifting a pair to be as sustainable as possible, however if you really need to go out and buy a new pair for whatever reason get a high quality pair, this will help in the long run with preventing them from falling apart as easily.

The second main point I want to make is that the pants should not be skinny jeans. This is because when you sew on patches it slightly cinches in the fabric, and with skinny jeans generally being stretchy, this is going to result in the thread of the patches stretching out and snapping. Your patches will all just start falling off and it'll ruin your hard work.

This is why I'd recommend using a pair of jeans or pants that are a bit looser of a fit, such as straight legged pants or a pair of pants a size up from your actual size if possible!

Dental floss

The reason it's generally suggested to use dental floss rather than actual thread is because dental floss tends to overall be a lot stronger than your average thread, as well as often being more easily accessible to buy.

Needle

This ones pretty self-explanatory, just make sure you get a needle with a long/wide enough eye (the hole the thread goes through) for your floss to be able to fit through without trouble.

Acrylic paints

You may be wondering why I'm suggesting acrylics over fabric paints and there are a few reasons!

The first is simply that they're both cheaper and far easier to purchase for the average person than fabric paints, and I want this tutorial to be as accessible as possible for as many people as possible.

The second reason is that fabric paints require a lot of fucking around with setting the paint, whereas acrylics can just be left to dry and be finished, and so long as your pants are hand washed, the paints won't come out (unless you layer it on super thick or are really rough when you clean them).

Brushes

Another pretty obvious one, these are needed so you can actually paint your patches!!!

Fabric/spare denim

You need fabric or scraps to be able to actually create patches for your pants, so this is essential.

Any kind of scrap fabric can do, a lot of fabric stores tend to have bins of scrap fabric that are either pre-priced or priced by weight and that can be a really good opportunity to acquire the fabric you need!

Another way (the method I tend to use) is thrifting a few pairs of jeans alongside the pair I want to patch and then ripping them up into patch-sized pieces!

Either way, I really advise against buying straight up new fabrics by the metre for this as it kinda goes against the entire idea of sustainability and reuse.

A really big tip I have for when you're cutting the fabric of your choice up for patches is to actually only cut a little slit, and then rip. This produces a really nice distressed edge and will help add some texture and more of a fucked up look to your pants a lot quicker than if you waited for the fabric to fray by itself!

Marker/pencil

This is literally just so you can draw your designs onto your patches! I've personally found that either a black or white (depending on how dark the fabric you're using is) pastel pencil is generally good enough to get the general gist of what you want down well enough for you to paint it on.

Pins

These are literally just to hold your patches in place and literally any kind from proper sewing pins to safety pins will work! (just don't forget they're in the jeans before you put them on I promise you it isn't fun to put on a pair of jeans full of pins).

Optional: a sketchbook

You may want a sketchbook or alternatively scraps of paper if you have any kind of original concept for a patch so you can draw it out a few times first to really nail it, and it's also helpful to have if you aren't as confident in your painting and drawing abilities!

Step two: patch making

I personally pre-rip/cut all of my patches before I paint anything on them generally speaking and then fit whatever design I want onto whatever piece I think it would fit on, however if you want to paint your patches and then rip/cut the design out that's also an option (and probably a much smarter one I'm just incredibly stubborn).

For punk pants you want a good mix of both punk bands, politics, and also maybe something a bit daft (I have the "he scream at he own ass" possum on the back pocket of a patched skirt for example). If you don't have bands and such, it kinda defeats the point of them being punk patched pants.

I personally generally pick a theme (eg. colourful patches, all black and white) when making anything patched because I think it makes everything look a bit more cohesive, but that is by no means a rule you actually have to follow I'm just autistic a fuck tbh.

Step three: the assembly

I personally put my main/bigger patches on first and put them on in a few different places until I get the placement I like, and then sew them on with the floss like this:

The main thing you want to do to make sure your pants don't wind up looking a bit weird or bare is to fill in any gaps between your painted patches with small, blank patches. Like this:

and that's pretty much it!!! I can't really explain via written text how to sew and how I personally tie off etc but if anyone would like a video tutorial lmk!!!

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au idea! This story was actually supposed to be a part of my fic "What to do When an Eldritch God Decides That You're Friend-Shaped", but I decided that this idea didn't really mesh well with the rest of that fic and would probably be better off as its own separate story.

And I will say, in my opinion, that this is probably one of my best au ideas yet. I had so much fun just writing this! Also, heads up, this post is going to be very long because I really love this idea! So, I hope you all enjoy! :D

In this au, which is set post-Camlann, Morgana wasn't able to take Merlin's magic away before the battle, so Merlin was able to save Arthur and defeat both Mordred and Morgana without revealing his magic. He was also able to prevent Gwaine's death since he kept Morgana preoccupied in the battle. So, Camelot is saved, and everything is great!

Except, Arthur has some questions. He knows from Morgana's furious screams during the battle that she was killed by a sorcerer named "Emrys", but Arthur never saw him. And Arthur recognized that name from when Morgana taunted him years ago by saying "Not even Emrys can save you now."

Arthur knows that he owes his kingdom and perhaps his life to this Emrys guy, but he knows nothing about him other than that he's a very powerful sorcerer, more powerful than Morgana. This frightens Arthur, as he doesn't know what Emrys wants or why he helps Arthur. For all Arthur knows, Emrys could be just biding his time to take over Camelot and was simply doing away with his competition by killing Morgana.

After things calmed down after the battle of Camlann, Arthur decides that he needs more information on Emrys. Who he is, what are his motives, how can they find him, and a million other details that Arthur needs to ensure his people's safety. He first goes to Gaius for information, but Gaius can tells him that, according to the myths of the Old Religion, Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth and is held in high regard by the druids.

Gaius's answer only heightens Arthur's alarm, as the prospect of having to fight to most powerful sorcerer ever is terrifying to him. However, he still doesn't have any good information on Emrys, so he goes to the next best source: the druids.

Thanks to Arthur making peace with the druids after promising the ghost of the young druid boy and permitting them to use their magic for peaceful purposes only, there were a couple druid camps not far from Camelot. Arthur picked the closer one and took a day to travel there alongside Merlin and a few knights in the hopes of finally getting some answers.

When they arrive at the camp, they're met with worried glances and panicked faces, but the druid elders welcome them into the camp nonetheless, offering them all a seat by their campfire and warm meal. Once they got settled and Arthur exchanged some pleasantries with Iseldir, the druid chieftain, Arthur was finally able to ask what had been plaguing him for weeks.

"Iseldir, I know that your people hold a sorcerer named Emrys in high regard, and it's come to my attention that he was responsible for Morgana's defeat at Camlann and possibly on other occasions. Please, I need to know more about him and why he's chosen to help me."

Several people froze and tensed at Arthur's questions, including Merlin. Arthur sighed internally at Merlin's usual panic. He knew that Merlin could become easily scared in the face of magic, so he should have knows that his friend wouldn't approve of Arthur actively seeking out a dangerous sorcerer.

After a short, tense pause, Iseldir clears his throat and responds.

"I'd be happy to answer some of your questions about the god of magic!"

Wait, did Arthur hear that correctly? God of magic?! Arthur, in his shock, blurted out,

"Emrys is a god?! I had heard that he was a powerful sorcerer, not some deity!"

Iseldir chuckled a bit before responding,

"Emrys is indeed the god of magic in the Old Religion, the son of the Triple Goddess herself! He is not simply the master of magic, but rather magic itself, its very incarnation!"

That... was a rather frightening prospect, and it confused Arthur even further. Why would magic itself fight against Morgana? Why take Arthur's side? And, perhaps more importantly, was Arthur going to have to fight a god in order to protect his kingdom?!

Iseldir continued before Arthur's hysterical thought could bubble up to the surface.

"As I said, I'm happy to answer your questions, but please know that there are some secrets that Emrys has entrusted our people with that we cannot divulge, and there are some truths that might be... difficult for you in particular."

Arthur frowned at Iseldir's answer, unsure of what to make of it.

"What do you mean it might be difficult for me in particular?"

Iseldir winced a bit, grimacing like he didn't know how to respond without warranting a negative response.

"Well, there are some elements of Emrys's story that intertwine with your own life in some ways that you might not expect or be ready to hear at this point. Your life and Emrys's are highly connected, King Arthur, even if you don't know the extent of it yet."

Arthur's eyes widened at this admission. His life was connected to this mysterious god of the old religion? How could that possibly be true? He had didn't even know that Emrys was a god until a few moments ago! However, as curious as he was about what Iseldir could be talking about, he had more pressing matters at hand.

"We can discuss how I am connected to Emrys later. For now, I need answers to more important questions. Why does Emrys help Camelot? What is he hoping to get out of it?"

Iseldir looked much happier to answer this question, speaking calmly with a serene smile on his face.

"Emrys had many reasons to stand against the witch. She frequently hunted down and killed more peaceful magic users who did not share her taste for vengeance and bloodshed, including our fellow druids and even the Catha, a small sect of priests of the Old Religion that followed Emrys's will. Emrys fought against Morgana to protect these followers of his from her wrath."

Arthur nodded at Iseldir's explanation. As odd as it felt to have something in common with a god of the Old Religion, he could understand very well the drive to protect his own people. If Emrys's people were also in danger because of Morgana, it made sense for him to join forces with Arthur, even if Arthur was unaware of that alliance. Seeing Arthur's understanding, Iseldir continued with his explanation.

"Emrys also fought against Morgana in order to punish her for her hubris and use of dark magic. There are certain dark arts that take the power that Emrys grants us and twist it into a horrible force, bound only by the will of its user. Such arts are expressly forbidden by Emrys, and he cannot control what sorcerers do with such magic after its been corrupted so thoroughly. Morgana frequently used such forbidden arts and claimed the title of high priestess while ignoring the will of the gods, even the one that she drew her power from. Emrys is normally slow to anger, but for such transgressions, he became furious with Morgana and sought to punish her for treason against magic itself."

Arthur understood that a little bit less, but he could also relate to Emrys's reasoning as a king who had also had to punish some of his own citizens for treason.

"I can see that Emrys stood opposed to Morgana, but does Camelot have anything to fear from him? I can understand why he might not be very forgiving towards us considering my father's actions during his reign."

To Arthur's immense relief, Iseldir shook his head slightly before providing an explanation.

"No, Camelot has nothing to fear from Emrys. He knows that not everyone in Camelot agreed with your father's actions, and he can see progress that you've made since the end of your father's reign. In fact, Emrys has assisted Camelot many times even when Morgana wasn't involved!"

Arthur reeled backwards in shock at Iseldir words. The god of magic, helping Camelot freely? Despite everything his father had done?! Iseldir's explanation forced Arthur to re-evaluate what he knew of the Old Religion.

He had always seen the Old Religion and its gods as monstrous and barbaric. However, that wasn't the case, was it? Emrys had saved the kingdom that sought to destroy him. The Disir had shown Mordred mercy, even though Arthur had rejected their offer. The White Goddess had restored Guinevere's soul at the Cauldron of Arianrhod and healed her of Morgana's curse. Were all of the gods and goddesses of the Old Religion so benevolent and kind? Had Arthur misunderstood the Old Religion for his entire life?

However, Arthur was still shocked at Emrys in particular choosing to help Camelot, supposedly with no ulterior motives besides a common enemy in Morgana. That was how Camelot had survived against such odds? How could it be that magic itself was on their side?!

As Arthur looked at Iseldir again however, he noticed that the druid chieftain's face had pulled into a grimace again. Arthur certainly knew that look, he had seen it on the faces of his council members frequently.

"There's something that you aren't telling me, isn't there? I know that there are some things that you may be hesitant to divulge, but please, I must know everything I can about Emrys, for the safety of my kingdom."

Iseldir paused again, sighing deeply. He sat still for a moment, as if pondering how to proceed.

"Truthfully, there is another reason why Emrys assisted you, but it involves what I spoke of earlier, wen I said that your life and Emrys's are connected in ways that you may not expect. I am willing to tell you such things, but these truths might be hard for you to hear."

Arthur leaned forward, his curiosity piqued again.

"I have learned many uncomfortable truths about my own life through the years, so I will ask you: how could my life be connected to the god of magic?"

Iseldir nodded at Arthur's words and began speaking with a serious, nearly grim, voice.

"I assume that you are familiar with how life is exchanged in the practice of the Old Religion? For any life give, a life must be taken."

Arthur flinched backwards at Iseldir's words, already recognizing what topic was about to be brought up. He had come to terms with the truth of his birth years ago, but hearing it again didn't make it any easier. Blinking back tears, Arthur responded.

"Yes, I... I know. I'm aware that my father made a deal with the priestess Nimueh to secure an heir, and I know that my mother was the one who paid the price in the end."

Arthur heard quiet gasps coming from the knights around him, while Merlin silently put a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder. Iseldir, after a moment, continued with his explanation.

"You are correct in your understanding, however, there is one part of the story that you are unaware of."

Arthur jolted in shock at Iseldir's words. There was more to the story of his birth? Frantically, Arthur started asking questions.

"What do you mean? What haven't I been told?"

Iseldir patiently and softly answered Arthur's questions, trying to soften the crushing revelation that he was about to tell Arthur.

"The balance of life and death is at the very core of the Old Religion. However, it is not the power of creation. The power over life and death was used by the high priestesses to resurrect and bring life to someone who has already passed. To magically create a new life, a new soul, from nothing is an act of creation, something that takes far more power than manipulating the balance of life and death. An act of creation takes the power of a god."

"I... I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?"

"I am sorry that you had to find out this way, King Arthur. But in order to successfully ensure that your mother and father had an heir, Nimueh called upon the power of her patron god: Emrys."

This time, it was Arthur was gasped in shock at this information, hysteria rising in him once again.

"Are you telling me that Emrys was responsible for my very creation?! That it was his power that created me?!"

"More than that, I'm afraid. To create your soul, Emrys did more than just weave his own power into a life. He cut out a shard of his own soul and breathed life into it, thus creating you. While we don't know his reasons for doing so, Emrys created you from a part of his own being."

Arthur felt like his breath had just been punched out of him. What... what did this mean?!

Iseldir must have seen his panic, and further clarified.

"In the eyes of the gods, this made Emrys your true creator and, in the eyes of the magical world, your father."

At those words, Arthur stopped breathing entirely. Unbeknownst to Iseldir, who kept going with his explanation, Arthur entire worldview was collapsing in on itself.

Magic itself was his father?! What did that even mean?!

And oh god was he even a Pendragon? Did he even have a legitimate claim to the throne of Camelot?!

Arthur's panic was so strong that he could barely feel how Merlin's supportive hand on his shoulder was now clenching hard enough to bruise.

(Meanwhile, inside Merlin's panicking mind: WTF??! Oh shit I owed HOW MUCH to Uther Pendragon in child support?! Am I a deadbeat dad to my own best friend??)

"This is why you triumphed over any foe, magical or otherwise. Emrys forbade any magic from truly harming you, and he rose to protect you when you needed him. He will always fight by your side, as you are, in many ways, a part of him."

Iseldir paused, now noticing Arthur's hyperventilating.

"I assume that you have many questions following this news. Please, feel free to ask anything, there's no need to be scared by this!"

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to keep from laugh hysterically. No need to be scared?! His entire life had just been turned on its head!

"If... if Emrys is my true father, what about Uther? Do I even have a claim to my throne?"

"Ah, there's no need to worried about that. While Emrys might be your father in terms of your soul, Uther is still your father in terms of blood. Do not fret, King Arthur, you are still of Pendragon blood and have every rightful claim to your throne."

Arthur calmed down a bit at Iseldir's words, breathing much easier now. This explained so many things about Arthur's life, how he had survived in situations that he by all means shouldn't have. Still, he had many questions for Iseldir.

"If I am truly the son of magic itself, am I even human, or am I some sort of demigod?"

At this question, Iseldir shook his head.

"That, I truly do not know. I'm sorry, but I don't think anyone knows the answer to that question except for Emrys himself."

Finally, an idea occurred to Arthur. He stiffened as he blurted out,

"Can I speak with him then? Is there any way to summon him?"

As soon as the idea took root in Arthur's mind, he couldn't get it out. Emrys had to have been looking out for Arthur for many years now, using his power to protect him. This notion of having a secret father who had been caring for him for years almost felt like having a second chance.

Arthur never had the relationship with Uther that he wanted. There was no affection, no bonding, and no comfort to be found there. Only expectations and demands.

But Emrys had apparently been helping Arthur for years with no expectations and no demands. Arthur had fantasized as a young boy about what it would have been like to have a kind, caring father, the kind he saw doting on their children in the marketplace. Now, it almost seemed like he had another chance of having a father, one who truly cared about him!

So naturally, Arthur wanted to meet him! Both the druids and the knights look slightly confused at Arthur's excited outburst about wanting to meet Emrys, but the druids tell him that they have everything that they need to perform a summoning ritual, but they'd need some time to set it up.

Arthur asks if they can set it up for him, and they nod and walk away to begin preparations. Meanwhile, Merlin and the knights ask Arthur if he's just lost his mind. They know that this must be shocking for him, but does he need to summon a god?!

Merlin shows the most vocal opposition to Arthur's plan, saying that they still don't even know if they can trust Emrys. All they have to go on is the word of the druids, and they seem pretty biased in Emrys's favor.

Arthur smiles and tells Merlin that he appreciates his protectiveness, but this is something that Arthur needs to do. He needs this closure, this chance to connect with his last living parent.

Arthur does take Merlin's concerns into consideration though, and orders for his men to leave the camp and take Merlin with them, so they're far away and protected if Emrys turns out to be untrustworthy.

(As the knights drag a struggling Merlin away, Merlin is frantically talking with Iseldir in his mind about what the summoning ritual entails and what it looks like. If he magically pops up next to Arthur right as Arthur does a ritual to summon Emrys, even Arthur would be able to put two and two together!

Luckily, Iseldir informs him that the summoning ritual will summon his soul, not his body, and Arthur wouldn't be able to recognize him. Still, Merlin tried to talk the druids out of the ritual, because Merlin doesn't want his soul to get yanked out of his body! But there was little that the druids could do with Arthur insisting on the ritual.)

After preparing the materials for the ritual, the druids take Arthur back into a tent to get him ready. Arthur's heart pounded in his chest with both excitement and fear as the druids walked him through what he had to do.

First, they gave him some plain but comfortable robes to change in to. They explained that Emrys preferred his followers to come to him in the garments of peace, not war, so his armor, chainmail, and weapons would have to be left in the tent.

After changing into the robes, Arthur felt strangely both vulnerable and comforted. As the druids rubbed some flowery smelling oil into his arms and then led him to a small wooden altar, Arthur couldn't help comparing this experience to approaching Uther.

Whenever he was meeting with his father, Arthur was expected to show no weakness, no flaws. He had to look the part of the warrior prince, trained since birth and hardened by battle. However, here with Emrys, Arthur was dressed in comfortable clothes and told to simply ask for Emrys's presence before the altar. He didn't need a sacrifice or penance or any sort of challenge to summon Emrys. All that the druids told him was to "call for him, and Emrys will answer."

Placing one hand gently on the wooden surface of the intricately carved altar, Arthur cleared his throat wetly before saying aloud to the empty space in front of him,

"Emrys, I'm... I'm not sure if you're here, but I'm your- your son, Arthur. You probably know me already, though, since you've been helping me and protecting me for a long time now. I- I wanted to thank you for your help. So, I would appreciate it if you could appear, so I could meet you and thank you in person."

There, Arthur thought that was a pretty good introduction! This was his first time meeting his new father, so he needed to make a good first impression!

Arthur stood, awkwardly shifting on his feet as he tried to push down his disappointment with each passing moment that Emrys did not appear. Maybe Arthur did it wrong? Maybe Emrys hadn't heard him? Or maybe Emrys had heard him, but was disappointed in Arthur and deemed him a weak son, just like Uther had?

As Arthur tried to swallow down his hurt, suddenly, there was a bright flash of light above the altar. It was so bright that Arthur had to throw his hand in front of his eyes and turn away, but his heart leapt at the sight.

Was this it?! Was he about to meet his creator and have another chance at having a father?

As soon as he could, Arthur lowered his hand and opened his eyes, anxiously awaiting his first glimpse at Emrys! As the light died down, Arthur was able to make out the outline of something...

As the light slowly dwindled, Arthur could see a bright, glowing ball of golden light, very similar to the one that had saved him from that cave so many years ago, floating above the altar. His eyes widened as he realized what, or more likely who, this light must be.

Emrys was a god after all, Arthur really shouldn't have assumed that he'd look like a human. The god of magic taking a human form, what a crazy idea!

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Arthur called out to the light.

"Emrys? Is that you?"

At his words, the light floated down from the altar until it was hovering right in front of Arthur, an arm's reach away. Arthur fought the urge to reach out and touch the light, just to see if it was real and not just a product of his own wishful thinking.

After a couple seconds, the ball of light flashed, and Arthur heard what sounded like multiple voices coming from it, speaking in unison.

"Hello Arthur. I'm so glad to finally be able to meet you. I am Emrys."

(Elsewhere, Merlin mentally patted himself on the back for making his soul-self sound sufficiently inhuman and speak in a manner that was completely unlike his usual self. Arthur couldn't possibly figure his identity out now!)

Arthur let out a sound that was something between a joyful laugh and a sob. Emrys actually came! Clearing his throat, Arthur tried to calm down his excitement and nerves and put on his best diplomat voice. He needed to start off strong here!

"I'm glad that we could meet as well. It's come to my attention that I have many things to thank you for, including Camelot's victory over Morgana in our latest battle. You might have saved all of Camelot, and I owe you a debt of gratitude."

Emrys silently floated in place for a moment, making Arthur sweat with nervousness. Had he already blown his one chance of having a caring parent?

Finally, Emrys's... orb body (what else was Arthur supposed to call it?!) glowed again and spoke with his multiple voices overlapping in harmony.

"You do not owe me anything, Arthur. There are no debts between us. We are family, tied together by our very souls. You never have to feel indebted to me for protecting you and Camelot. I do it not for a reward or recognition, but because I care for you."

Arthur's eyes misted over as he took in Emrys's words. How many times had he wished to hear anything like that from Uther? How many nights had he lied awake wondering what unconditional love from a parent would feel like?

As tears started silently rolling down Arthur's face, Emrys drifted closer to him. Arthur was startled by this move and didn't really know how to respond. Hesitantly, he lifted his hands to ball of light, unsure of what to do.

Slowly, the light moved towards Arthur's outreached hands. Arthur almost expected to flinch back upon contact, but instead, when his hands finally touched the ball of light itself, he was only met with a warm, comforting sensation, and he instantly relaxed and leaned into it. The only thing he could compare it to were those warm hugs that Merlin gave him whenever he felt down, which he would never admit to Merlin that he enjoyed.

Arthur gently guided the light closer, until he was hugging it against his chest and that wonderful warm fuzzy feeling was spreading through his entire body. Arthur wondered if this counted as getting a hug from his father, and then immediately decided that the answer was yes. And his new father apparently gave very good hugs.

Arthur stayed with Emrys for several more minutes, until the sun was setting. From there, Emrys told him that he had spent too much time in the mortal realm and couldn't hold his form for much longer without taking time to rest. Panicking, Arthur asked if he would be able to see Emrys again, he couldn't lose his new father so soon after meeting him!

Emrys reassured him that they'd see each other again soon and that he'd be by Arthur's side the whole time, even if Arthur couldn't see him. Comforted by this news, Arthur bid his new father farewell, and the ball of light slowly dissipated.

Arthur then returned to Merlin and his knights, who had a million questions for Arthur. Arthur answered their burning questions as best he could, and they were relieved to see that Arthur was safe and not scarred by the experience of talking to the god of magic.

The next day, they returned to Camelot, and Arthur soon realized that even if he couldn't see Emrys himself, he could certainly the effects that Emrys had on the world around him.

Arthur never fell sick, his rooms were never too hot or too cold, his muscles were never sore from training, his attackers that snuck into the castle never managed to land a hit on him, his kingdom's crops prospered, and a million other things went right in Arthur's life, and for the very first time, Arthur understood.

Magic loved him. And, more importantly, his father loved him.

And it didn't escape other people's notice either. He had told the knights that he had brought with him to the druid camp to not discuss the revelation of his relationship to Emrys, but one knight got drunk at the tavern and told his friend, and someone overheard, and now everyone in the kingdom had heard the news that King Arthur was apparently the son of a god.

The fact that Arthur had secretly prayed for Emrys's help when Gaius reported about a deadly plague in the lower town, only for Emrys to immediately appear again as a ball of light in the middle of a council meeting in front of dozens of witnesses didn't help Arthur keep it a secret either.

(Meanwhile, Merlin hears all of Arthur's prayers for Emrys. He's able to take care of most of Arthur's concerns just as Merlin, but a very powerful/emotional prayer from Arthur actually summons him in his "Emrys" form, leading to some awkward moments, but he makes it work for Arthur's sake.)

On the bright side of Arthur's heritage being revealed, other kingdoms were now much more open to peaceful negotiations and trade deals.

And on one occasion where a very foolish king tried to declare war on Arthur, the enemy king's army only made it a hundred yards of Camelot's forces before the earth itself broke open into a wide chasm that started swallowing the leaders of the enemy army whole. No one was stupid enough to attempt an attack on Camelot after that.

Life goes on like this for about a year, until Arthur catches Merlin using magic for some mundane purpose. Arthur is shocked of course, but magic has been legal for a while now. When he questions Merlin on where he learned magic from, Merlin stammers and says "Well... uh, Emrys..."

Arthur cut Merlin off, yelling because apparently his father was teaching Merlin magic behind his back?! What was that about!

Merlin then decides to take this misunderstanding and roll with it, because there's no way in hell that he's looking Arthur in the eyes and telling him that he's actually Arthur's magical father.

Merlin spins a story about how Emrys had been slowly teaching Merlin magic so Merlin could help Arthur out and always have someone nearby with magic to protect him! Arthur accepts this story, but is secretly a little bit jealous. How come Emrys chose to teach Merlin magic and not his own son?

After Arthur asks Emrys about this, Emrys apologizes to Arthur, saying that he didn't know if Arthur would be interested. He then starts trying to teach Arthur magic (to pretty much no success). To further apologize to Arthur, Emrys gives him a gift! Emrys had apparently heard about how Uther had forbidden Arthur from having a pet as a child despite Arthur begging for one, so Emrys decided to remedy this by giving Arthur a baby dragon to take care of and to train to protect Camelot.

Everyone else is alarmed by this, but Arthur is almost moved to tears because he loves the little dragon so much already!

And this au is already wayyyy too long, so I'll cut it off there! I'm tempted to call this the "Arthur gets catfished into a healthy parental relationship" au lol!

I hope you all enjoyed this au! Sorry about it being longer than usual, but I had a lot that I wanted to write about this au idea! And if you want to see even more of this au, feel free to let me know if you'd like a continuation!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my (very long) ramblings! :D

[aingeal98]

Part of me is really glad Kon was Cass's chosen male "love interest" in her batgirl series because pre black and red T-shirt Kon was just. Impossible to take seriously more than half the time. Like his solo series had some interesting stuff to say but when it came to everything else it's like the writers thought "OK how do we write the most stereotypical goofy and obnoxious teen boy" and they turned the dial so far up it became camp. I simply cannot take his and Cass's romance seriously because I can't take Kon seriously. He's trying to perform heterosexuality so hard and Cass having just discovered this as a thing is probably the only girl on the planet who could buy it. There's not a single moment where I'm like "Oh yeah she's definitely into him." but there are so many moments where I'm like "They're both trying SO hard and it's so funny because neither of them are normal in anyway and also she's clearly a lesbian."

Like if they'd gotten an actual male love interest for Cass that felt like someone she was actually into then I'd very easily see her as bisexual but the fact that she chose to "date" Kon-El, most over the top straight boy parody 8 years running, AND they decided to stay friends at the end because she realized she wasn't into the romance she was just lonely after her very intense "friend break up" with Steph? She's a lesbian your honour.

[4dkellysworld]

After deciding 'it is done'

This is more of a manifestation themed post (it's a draft from March when I spontaneously felt like writing it but didn't post it) because I felt like it but I'd appreciate if I didn't get any asks about manifestation* (unless I change my mind later) cos I'll share what I can and there's a lot of material available already! You can see my past post on this topic here. For more posts on it, see @4dbarbie-archive and realisophie's posts here and here and there's also some over at @ndjournal in the experience sharing tag.

*Also because I don't want to send mixed messages to the readers of this blog. I see conscious manifestation as a way to challenge & break limitations and concepts from the mind, not to get things in the world (kinda like Neo learning to bend the spoon in the Matrix if you get me lol). The latter will only pull you deeper into ego and the world, which isn't conducive to self-realization (if that's your goal) if you're focused on satisfying ego and the worldly life. If that makes sense and you resonate and agree with that, then we are on the same page but not everyone is and that's okay too, just do what feels right to you. Just sharing my reasoning :)

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I've been reading this book called Parallel Universes of Self because I read the author Frederick Dodson had an interesting reality shifting experience. I didn't expect to read info on manifestation but they are pretty much the same. I have a few books of his that I'm skimming through out of curiosity and there's some interesting stuff (I might share some other things later, he doesn't just talk about manifestation, but also consciousness, reality and even non-duality).

I thought I'd share the below excerpt because it's explained really well and might help some others. It's also a nice succinct summary of what Ada and Soph talked about for materialization/manifestation as well. I can remember pretty much 95% of the things I've ever "manifested" were from when I acted the way he described after I had decided "it is done". It's easier to do this for things you don't care about because you just end up forgetting about it entirely and then it shows up and you're like 'oh yeah!! nice'.

In the hours, days and weeks after simply rest in the new viewpoint, rest in the fulfilled reality. This means that you don’t try to “make it happen” because you have already claimed it as real. You don’t affirm, visualize, repeat or wait for it. You don’t hope for it to come in some future. Because you have claimed it as already real you don’t even think about it much either. You don’t ask when, how, where it will show up. Instead you simply do what offers itself to you throughout the day, and this will involve commonplace activities. Daily life continues in a natural manner without neediness or lack. Once in awhile you may want to re-feel the body sense of the chosen reality, and enjoy what you have claimed as true, but often not even that is necessary. Furthermore you needn’t be “acting as if” the desired reality is manifest, for that still implies separation. Simply cease to behave in a way that presupposes that it is not already so. You may refuse to ascribe relevance or importance to any events that seem to contradict your newly chosen reality. From the new viewpoint such events may still exist and come up but they are no longer relevant enough to be reacted to and interacted with. They may be the way things are at the moment, but they are no longer the way you are. The corresponding physical manifestation will appear when you stop needing it, chasing after it, looking for it but are instead willingly and lovingly identified with it…not for the sake of “making it manifest” *, but for the sake of experiencing its joy in the here, now and today. *Because trying to make it happen/manifest reinforces the idea/belief that it isn't

This is the same as what 4dbarbie said about getting ego out of the way or as Lester Levenson said, let go and let God. Just let it happen and stop trying to control the process because the more you try, the more you reinforce the fact that it isn't already so. Basically stop putting in effort once you know it is true, just continue knowing with calm and ease that it is the way you want it. Ada also said here:

If you have thoughts like "I need to say my affirmations", "I need to check my state", you're not living in the end but still desiring. When you're able to look at the thing you desire as being something that was once a dream, but now only a memory - you've entered the state of the wish fulfilled. When desire turns into identity, you know you've succeeded in fulfilling yourself.

Yes we're conditioned to think we need to work hard and put effort to earn things in the world but when it comes to manifesting, this sort of mentality will only sabotage and hinder your success. You can literally just decide you have it and then never look back. This sort of mindset can take a bit of time and practice to get used to because it is not something we're used to but the more you practice, the easier it gets.

Here is an excerpt from an astral projection book (I think it's from The Illusion of Method?) I thought was really apt at describing this too. He's talking about AP but you can apply it to manifesting or pretty much anything as well.

Unless you are masochistic, I ask you to reconsider the painful idea of obsessing about time. Bear in mind that results will come whenever they have to, and counting the minutes won't make the outcome arrive faster. It's best if you just forget about it, and accept that it is something that you can't control. You must be patient—most of the time the desired results arrive immediately after giving up control of time. If you are frustrated and/or are afraid of failure, then it means you believe you are in control—and this translates into the feeling that you are responsible for both positive and negative results. Well then, stop thinking that way! Exempting yourself from responsibility is the best course of action there is. As seen in the previous chapter, those who project on command are the ones who couldn’t care less about AP. But the more you obfuscate yourself, the lesser your chances of success —and trust me, you won’t want to get trapped in that vicious cycle. Astral projection works when you stop worrying about failure because you trust that it will happen, whether you “do” something or not.

It’s the same thing: just in the same way that being hasty for sleep to occur keeps us wakeful and alert, being expectant over the OBE will keep us caged in the physical body. If the mind is constantly thinking about the goal, it can easily enter a state of expectancy* and impatience. In such state, the mind is no longer relaxed because expectancy is a state of unrest. This form of tension is what hinders the outcome—thus, the key to being relaxed (i.e., essentially lacking mental tension) is to forget about the goal entirely. If you don’t have the goal in mind you don’t enter a state of expectancy, and therefore you are free from mental tension. *expectancy is the same energy as trying to make something happen.. reinforcing the idea/belief that it isn't so

So, exempt yourself from responsibility means there's nothing more to do because ego is not in control and can do nothing.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Exchanged clothes [S. R] Bolinus brandaris part. 2

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k

part 1

summary: a small act of kindness leads to a rather peculiar confession

A/N: Okaay, some people showed interest in a sequel to this and I thought I'd do it, I hope you like it enough. Oh and we are still with baby Spencer, later I will write about the second and third seasons (and as I progress in the series, lol)

taglist: @the-ginger-draws @skievers @c-m-stuff

The days passed, the cases continued, and the level of trust in the friendship between you and Reid only grew. Working at The Behavioral Analysis Unit was complicated and exhausting in many ways, which sometimes made you wonder how he managed to put up with all that, because, although you weren’t an old woman, you did have two years more experience compared to him. It's also not like it was your fault that he was a genius and he went to work for the FBI at an extraordinary age. So every time something happened, you were there for him and he was there for you. The whole team really cared about the two of you (and JJ, the third youngest) while still trusting in your abilities to face challenges. And just like in a family, everyone could also notice the existing tension between you and the doctor, because although, at least on your part, the feelings had been there for a long time, they had become more obvious to the rest since of the trip to Miami.

"Good morning" you had greeted part of the team that day, a few weeks after the trip, more energetic than the others would have expected. Neither Hotch nor Gideon were around, for obvious reasons, so it was only when you passed Reid's desk that you stopped, running your hand affectionately through his hair “Hey, Doc.”

"Hello," he responded immediately. Spencer didn't like it when his hair got messy, but he could take it if it was you, just as he could take your constant hugs or the drawings you sometimes made on his hand when you were bored during meetings. Of everything that happened between you, little managed to bother him, almost as if the interactions he avoided with others were something natural with you around.

Although he had stopped wearing his scarf daily, he still wore it at least once a week as a reminder of how special it was to him, and fortunately that day was the chosen one.

“Do we have a case? Or do I just bury my nose in these reports?” you muttered to the others, but they denied "What of that do you say no to?"

"Today they will be documents" JJ spoke kindly.

"Why do I have so many?"

“Because I passed you some of mine,” Morgan sneered and you gasped, completely offended. You whispered something accusatory in his direction that made Spencer laugh from the next desk, and then he reached over to take just under half the folders.

"I will help you"

"Oh no, no, Reid. It's okay,” you said, your voice softening noticeably, as you placed your hands over his to try to stop him.

"It's nothing, I'll finish them in a jiffy"

"Why don't you ever offer to help me, huh?"

“You manage pretty well on your own,” Spencer teased at your friend, now making you laugh. You still had your hands on his under the excuse of collecting your reports and, perhaps unconsciously, both of you postponed the moment for another few seconds, looking into your eyes with a small smile until he finally managed to keep the material that he had stolen from your desk.

"Thank you," you said, so softly that only he could hear you.

Looking at your coworker had already become something of an obsession. You liked his gestures, how he looked away when he spoke, his nervous ramblings, and the straight hair that he apparently was letting grow, but what you liked the most were his hands. When he was explaining a profile, he always communicated a lot with his body language and honestly, the swaying of his hands, combined with the tranquility in his tone of voice, was very hypnotic to you, as if keeping the attention of others was something inescapable for him, although it was probably easier to keep your attention specifically. Right now, while everyone was minding their own business, you were watching sideways as he ran his middle finger over the printed lines. It made you nervous to see the delicacy with which he moved across the sheet of paper and inevitably your mind traveled to inappropriate corners related to that movement, which embarrassed you to the point of blushing. Thank heavens he was too focused to notice you, so you forced yourself to work on the few reports Reid had let you keep.

The days were very rare when no cases appeared, but you were grateful that they existed because sometimes it was necessary to take a breather. Seeing so many bodies, so much blood and so much inhumanity was something you never quite got used to, although having good teammates in your unit made it more bearable. So that night nothing stopped you from finishing right on time, with a little back pain from sitting all day, but also quite calm.

"I'll see you tomorrow, rest"

"Are you going to your apartment?" Spencer asked, rushing towards you with his coat in hand and the briefcase slung over his shoulder, and you nodded Can you wait for me to go together?”

You looked at him, more confused than you wanted, but you said yes. It's not that you were upset or that you didn't want company, but that you were curious as to why he might have offered to do it.

"Thanks again, for earlier," you said, once both of you were outside. You lived a few streets from the office and you could get there in less than 20 minutes by taking a subway station, which fortunately was the same one he took.

“Okay, they were too many for you. I mean, it's not that I think you can't do the job, you're very capable, it's just that I thought it was too much workload for just you and I… well, I could help you so I did it” with that Reid held up a hand to downplay the matter and smiled at you.

“Why have we never thought about walking to the subway together?”

"I don't know either," he said. You felt a gust of wind hit the both of you so you hugged yourself to try and get some warmth and even though Spencer wasn't the best at reading social cues he managed to figure out what you had and what he needed to do 

“Here” he murmured, as he spread the coat and put it on your shoulders.

“Oh no, no, no, Reid. I'm fine"

"In fact, if you don't use it you can catch a cold and although there are very few cases in which there are complications that lead to death, the symptoms last about a week and you can infect several people during the first days, so you not only you would be taking care of yourself but also the rest of the team” he informed you. That made you smile, and you found that behind all his scientific mumbo jumbo, he was trying to take care of you.

"It's a little big on me," you laughed, reaching into the sleeves with some help from him.

“You look pretty” he blurted out from his lips, completely entranced by you “Well, the… the coat. It looks good” he tried to fix, but you laughed at the compliment that you definitely wouldn't pass up.

"Aren't you cold?"

“No, my shirt and vest help,” Spencer replied, showing you the long sleeve of her white shirt. “I also have my scarf, did you forget it?”

"The best choice in all your outfits" you joked, reaching out a hand to feel the soft fabric of the garment and looking at him, with that cute shy smile "What will you do when you get to your apartment?"

“Huh, probably get some sleep. I haven't been resting properly in the past few days."

"Nightmares again?" you sadly asked. Spencer had talked to you superficially about it a few days ago, although you thought that he had suffered from this disease for much longer than he wanted to admit. He didn't answer verbally, he just nodded his head and you thought he didn't want to delve into it “I think I'll spend a while in the bathtub and then I'll sleep. I'm exhausted"

“You close doors and windows before you sleep, right?”

"I do," you assured him.

“Do you also take your cell phone with you to call in case of emergencies?”

"Huh, yeah"

"Good. Take care of yourself” he insisted. Those didn't sound like random recommendations and that puzzled you a bit.

"I do, Reid," you replied softly. When you noticed that the concern in his features did not leave him, you thought it would be prudent to ask him why that was "Are you worried about something?"

"No, it's not that" he hastened to answer. You still had a few blocks to go to get to the subway and only a few passers-by walked the streets, besides you.

“Are they unsub then? Anything in particular that worries you?"

"It's nothing like that. It's just…” he gasped, still unsure to continue, “if I tell you, you'll think it's silly”

"Of course not. Tell me, what is it?" you asked. He was internally debating if he should tell you what he was thinking and he was convinced a little when he felt your hand on his arm, as if prompting him to speak.

“Yesterday I…” he started to say “I had a nightmare. I dreamed when I arrived at the office I found out that something bad had happened to you. And… I don't know, it felt very real and I couldn't get it out of my head” he admitted. You understood that perhaps it was the reason he had wanted to accompany you, as if he feared that someone might stalk you on the way.

“Spence” you murmured gently, as you pulled him a little in your direction to place one hand on his bicep and the other on his forearm “Don't worry, nothing's going to happen to me. My apartment complex has a good security system and I always carry my gun, if something happens on the street, I will know how to deal with it. They're just bad dreams, I have them sometimes too” you said to reassure him. You felt quite comfortable walking in that position and you continued a couple of steps holding him like this, looking for some negative sign from him, but it never came. With the closeness he managed to feel a little less fear, reminding himself that what tormented him were fantasies of his own mind, that if they were analyzed with a little more detail they were an unconscious reflection of how much he feared losing you.

"I told you it would be silly"

"It is not. It's quite sweet, actually,” you smiled, moving your thumb up and down as you smiled at him. In that position your face was at the height of the boy's shoulder and it was enough for him to turn his head to reach your forehead, so he wondered how much you would bother if he left you a kiss there. He wanted to, but held back.

“I just thought I should tell you. For you to be careful"

“Same to you, Reid. You have a rather peculiar ability to get into trouble” you exclaimed accusingly, because in a couple of cases the man had already managed to get on your nerves.

The position turned out to be cozier than you expected and you continued walking the rest of the streets towards the subway in silence. He concentrated on the feeling of your body so close to him and your hands gently holding him, while you lost yourself in thought wondering what you really felt about your coworker and what he felt for you. Spencer would look at you from time to time, analyzing your gestures and enjoying the sight of you wearing his clothes, something he didn't think would affect him the way he did.

“Did you know that railway suicides have a very small percentage in the country's suicide rate?” he told you, while the two of you looked at the subway tracks that you were waiting for. You had had to distance yourself to be able to pay the pennies for the ticket and you had decided to place your hands in the pockets of your borrowed coat, caressing the lining fabric with your fingers.

"I had no idea" you muttered. You were a little surprised that he always had an interesting fact about literally anywhere you were and you loved hearing him tell you “It must be horrible. And very sad"

"Even the government allocates certain resources to pay for psychological therapy for drivers who witness these suicides"

"Well, at least it comforts me to know that part of my taxes ends there," you joked bitterly and the train stopped just as you finished saying it. Reid let you first into the nearly empty car that would take you home, and along the way you continued to talk about less unfortunate things, like the dinner choices you were planning or the TV shows that were likely to be airing when you arrived.

Having those little quiet moments with him made you feel lucky and the laughs he managed to get filled your chest with joy, making you completely forget everything related to work. The voice in the wagon warned that your stop was next and an anticipated sadness invaded you.

“Be…”

"Be careful, I know" you smiled. Since you were already on your feet, so as not to miss your stop, you crouched down to give him a quick goodbye hug “See you tomorrow. Try to sleep and if you have nightmares you can call me, okay?" you muttered. He nodded from his place as he watched you leave towards the platform and leaned out the window to see your figure disappear into the distance.

Neither of you two realized that you had kept his coat until you got home.

As of that night, that coat returned to see the doctor's closet on very few occasions and the purple scarf went on to have joint custody. He had found out that if he loved anything more than wearing the clothes you gave him, it was seeing you wearing them, causing him to come up with totally pathetic excuses to accomplish that. 

"It's a bit cold" "Purple matches your clothes" or simply "keep it, it looks better on you than on me"

It soon became a habit. During the cases, when you two were apart, it was a little comforting to have something of him with you and when he came home, he would enjoy breathing in the smell of your perfume impregnated on the fabric.

After a few weeks you realized that, without a doubt, you were so in love with him. And when he realized the same thing, he was completely terrified.

“Reid” you greeted him one morning, catching up with him as he poured himself a coffee and analyzed a piece of bread that had surely been sitting there since the day before. Hugs when seeing him had also become a habit, quite nice from the man’s point of view "I have something for you"

"Again?"

"Oh yeah," you smiled. Lately you had been filling him with small gifts and most of them quite rare, but which he kept suspiciously in his desk drawer. And it's not that he didn't appreciate it, but that he was beginning to feel guilty for receiving so many and not having given you any yet. "Give me your keys," you asked and he obeyed without even questioning you. Once you had them in your hand, you took a strip of colored beads from your pocket that you added as a key ring, while he looked at you with some confusion.

"What's that?"

“My friend asked me to babysit her daughter this weekend and we went crazy with crafts. So I thought I'd do this to you” you muttered. He took a closer look at the keyring and noted that you had included his favorite colors, purple and green, as well as a heart-shaped bead at the end. "I know it looks like a preschool kid's creation and if you're embarrassed to wear it you can throw it away”

"No, I like it. It's pretty,” he smiled, running his long fingers over the beads. Satisfied with the answer, you took out your own keys and proudly showed them to him.

"I have one just like it," you said happily. That was true, only yours was made of pink and blue, and the way you said it completely touched the man.

"You make me think that there is still goodness in this world, you know?" he exclaimed, so sincere and without thinking that he surprised you "I loved it, thank you very much"

"Now that I think about it, it's like one of those friendship bracelets you make at summer camp”

“I never went to a summer camp”

"I don't know why I'm not surprised" you laughed and would have continued the conversation if it hadn't been for Hotch's interruption.

“We've got a case. Conference room in 5”

Sometimes you forgot that the real reason you were there was the criminal profiles and not seeing Spencer Reid every day.

You just woke up one morning and knew you had to tell Spencer how you felt about him. As you said before, Spencer seemed to have a special magnet for trouble and proof of this were the cases in which he had to perform dangerous tasks that you knew no one else could do. When he had to get on that train with Ted Bryar you'd gone crazy and last week when he'd watched that cult boy on Massanutten Mountain threaten Reid with a gun you decided you'd had enough.

He had expressed concern for your well-being on multiple occasions, but what about his? Didn't you have the right to care about him just as much? every time he came back you wanted to throw yourself into his arms and whisper in his ear if he was okay, to maybe leave a kiss or two on his cheeks. But every time he came back you just cheered with the rest of the team and barely had contact with him beyond a squeeze on the shoulder and a sincere: I'm glad you're okay.

So you thought that if you wanted to have that kind of privilege over others the only alternative was to profess your love to him in the hope that he would feel the same way and you could work something out.

Spencer, for his own part, also had his epiphany and as much as he tried to avoid it he ended up asking Morgan for advice, who was the only person he thought would be suitable to talk about this kind of subject. Surprisingly, Derek behaved discreetly and really gave the doctor valuable elements to understand one of the few sciences in which science was almost obsolete: love.

Going back to recently acquired habits, walking together to the subway was another one of them. Sometimes this was interrupted because he or you stayed longer than the other, but except for those cases it was a regular activity.

So that night, when you two were walking to the station, your mind was immersed in remembering the speech with which you planned to tell your friend.

"You're very quiet today," Reid observed, taking you by surprise. In a few months he had already learned very well some traits that indicated that something was wrong with you.

“Sorry, I… I have a few things on my mind,” you apologized, but Spencer didn't know what to say because he also had his own things on his mind. He was desperately searching for a way to put into words what he felt, but he kept wondering, could that be explained? All attempts at reasoning became useless with you near him, maybe that's why he couldn't think of how to tell you "Reid, I don't think I've ever asked you, but have you ever had a partner?"

"Like… couple?" he asked, trying to make sure you were referring to the same thing he thought.

“I know it sounds weird, but it just… made me curious,” you exclaimed, shrugging and then crossing your arms in an attempt to comfort yourself. Reid fondly watched how your arms were on that purple scarf and felt a little motivated to speak.

“Huh, in that case, yes, something like that. I dated two people when I was in school, but it wasn't anything serious, just a few kisses” he explained to you and you failed to contain your laughter, maybe because of the way he had explained it. Spencer blushed to his ears and smiled reflexively at your smile. "Don't tease!"

"I don't" you defended yourself. Another person walked down the sidewalk and he reached out his arm to move you protectively in front of him, so when you came back to his side you took advantage of the distance between you, to the point where your shoulder brushed against his arm.

"And you?" he asked after a while of silence "Have you had many boyfriends?"

"The truth? not so many. With most of them I lost interest after the first date and the others left me when they found out I was in the academy. Apparently armed women aren't very attractive” you smiled. You had asked about his romantic history, and incidentally talked a bit about yours, only to open the topic and somehow feel that your confession would not be so out of place.

“There are studies that indicate that women take longer to fall in love than men, perhaps that is why you lost interest quickly. For you it takes about 6 or 8 dates to decide if you want something with a person, because you are more selective and better analyze personality traits in men. But they only care that the girls are… well, pretty” he murmured, with a smirk “On average it takes women 134 days to fall in love while men only 88”

“How long have you and I known each other?”

"It must be like... a year and a half now" he exclaimed, mentally doing the math "Why?" he continued legitimately confused. For the genius that he was, Reid was naive at times.

You looked down at him and for a second thought that even with those bags under his eyes and the stubble he hadn't shaved, Spencer was the most handsome man you'd ever met. Not receiving an answer, he looked at you and was surprised to see the sparkle in your eyes.

"Okay, can we stop here for a moment?" you asked. You knew you were probably going to chicken out if you didn't say it right then, even if that closed beauty salon you were standing in front of was an unromantic place. "I need to tell you something”

You had said it with determination, but once you were face to face, your mind went blank. You panicked: how were you going to tell him? What was the right thing to say? What reaction did you expect?

But Spencer, noticing the silence, decided to be the first to speak.

“Noradrenaline is a neurotransmitter that produces excitement and effusivity, increases heartbeat, blood pressure, causing sweating of hands and flushing. High dopamine levels generate a need to be with the person that releases it and is related to serotonin, which generates well-being, optimism, social closeness, and reduces discomfort and anger. Phenylethylamine makes everything more intense, makes us feel more motivated and optimistic and finally, oxytocin is the love hormone par excellence, it occurs when we have a bond of trust with people or when we feel a strong attraction. Sometimes it is also released when we embrace the reason for our affection” he had said that so hastily and waving his hands, that he could only show how nervous he was. He inhaled to catch his lost breath, then finally made eye contact with you, taking a moment before continuing, “What I'm trying to say is…you make me feel all of that. You alter my chemistry in ways I've never thought of and… and I… go all goofy and don't know what to say…”

"Spencer" you interrupted him "You mean you like me?" you asked gently, because you knew that when he started to wander sometimes you needed to bring him back down to earth. Reid looked at you tight-lipped and nodded slowly.

You were silent for a second, trying to process what he had just told you, and he got even more nervous than he was.

“But I think that after all this what I care to know is… if you feel the same way. Or in the worst case, if you think you might feel something like this”

“A total chemical mess for you?” you exclaimed amused. One of your hands went to his and you gently held it, taking a step closer to him. “I'm sorry, Reid. I feel it every time I look at you, that you hug me, every time I give you those silly gifts and see the smile on your face. Everything in you causes me that"

"Are you serious?" he asked, wanting to be completely sure what he was hearing. You laughed and wrapped your free arm around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

“Of course I do. Before you said all that I was racking my brain trying to find a way to tell you how I felt."

“Did you know that this is a phenomenon? There are those who call it the tuning fork effect, which is when two people connect the same idea at the same time, almost as if they had been thinking at the same frequency.”

You chuckled and buried your head in his neck, letting go of his hand so you could hug him properly. He wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his head in your hair, willing to say nothing more for fear of ruining the moment. All the fears you had had were being buried with that contact, because now you had the certainty that what you felt was mutual.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours, just listening to the gentle beating of his heart and enjoying the sense of security that being in the man's arms made you feel.

"I really like you" you broke the silence, with a whisper, making him smile.

"I think the most logical step from here would be to ask you out on a date, no?" he muttered. You pulled away enough to look at him, but still leaving your arms around his shoulders.

“I don't want to have to wait. Let's go for a burger"

"Don't you prefer somewhere more... formal?"

"Leave formal places for proposals, handsome," you said in a playful voice, caressing his cheeks with your extended palm and he made a mental note that this Italian restaurant he was thinking of inviting you to would be the ideal place to ask you to take the next step, when the time was right. 

“I still have to take you on at least 6 dates, to be sure”

"Fuck the statistics, I don't need that burger to know I'm in love with you," you said and he grinned from ear to ear.

“I know a place with an excellent health label and organic food, it is a few streets from here”

"I follow you" you answered cheerfully "On one condition"

"Which?"

"Let me hold your hand," you asked softly and Reid wasted no time in fulfilling your wish, leading you to the restaurant that way.

And at the end of the night, when you stole a kiss from him, he couldn't have felt luckier.

[kaleldobrev]

Midnight Confessions

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Dean have a "heart-to-heart" conversation on the way to Stanford to pick up Sam

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Fluff

Authors Note: I've been wanting to use this gif for something for such a long time and I finally found a way to use it | Takes place pre-season one | I've been really enjoying writing pre-season one fics lately! | Can be read as a “sequel” to Comfortable? or as it's own one-shot | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

“Good morning Sweetheart,” Dean said, as he noticed your movements were starting to get a little bit more prominent than they had been previously when you were sleeping.

When you awoke, you were surprised to still be in the exact same spot and position as you were in when you had fallen asleep: your head in Dean's lap, and the soles of your boots pressed up against the passenger side door. "Morning Handsome," you replied back, giving him a soft smile. "How long was I out for?"

"Couple of hours," he said. "You were mumbling quite a bit. What were you dreaming about?"

"You're going to think it's stupid," you said all too quickly, slightly embarrassed of the dream you had just had. It was nothing awful or terrible by any means; it was actually one of the most peaceful dreams you've had in a while, well...at least the one you could actually remember at least. But part of the reason you didn't want to tell your boyfriend about it was because you knew how he felt about the white picket fence life. "I'd rather blow my brains out," he's told you on more than one occasion. But it was a life that you dreamed of — and dreamed of doing with him someday.

"I promise I won't think it's stupid," he told you, trying to be reassuring. He briefly looked at you, flashing you his charming smile that you had loved so much before looking back at the road again.

You sighed, before getting up from your position on his lap; moving so your back was now pressed up against the passenger side door. This way, you could have a better angle when you told him about the dream you just had — a better angle to see the disappointment and judgement from him. Because you knew, despite this promise of his, you knew him all too well, knew that he would just laugh. “I dreamed that me and you lived in one of those blue suburbans and I was baking you an apple pie while you watched a Cowboys game on the tv.”

Silence was Dean’s chosen response. At least he’s not laughing, you thought. But you hated the silence that he was giving you as well, because accompanying that silence, his hands started to grip the wheel, causing his knuckles to turn white. “Oh yeah?” He finally said, his tone coming off rather calmer than you had expected him to sound.

You looked down at your hands as you started twiddling your thumbs, almost embarrassed at the confession you had made. “I know it’s stupid, trust me.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said, briefly meeting your gaze. “It’s just…unrealistic for people like us,” his tone sounding much more disappointed now, like there was a part of him that had wanted that kind of life. And the truth was, there was a part of Dean that had wanted that life. Wanted a suburbia life. And wanted that kind of life to be with you. But he knew it was a life that he could never have. It was simply just out of his reach. “People like us don’t get white picket fences. We get broken bones and near death experiences.”

You knew that Dean was right; how unrealistic this dream of yours was. To others, it was their normal, but to you it was foreign, a fantasy. “You say that like it’s impossible,” you began. “We’re both still young Dean. We can still get out, sanity still in tact.”

“Y/N, hunting is all I’ve ever known. I’ve been on the road with Sammy and my dad since I was four years old,” his voice starting to sound full of hurt, but with a hint of exhaustion. “The only home I’ve ever known was burnt down and it took my mom along with it.”

“But this is your dads fight Dean, not yours,” you said, trying to be very cautious of your wording. “He should have never dragged you into this crusade of his. He should have given you and Sammy a choice in the matter.” When it came to Dean, he wasn’t very forthcoming with his background. You knew the basics about how him and his family had gotten into hunting, but you never pried as you felt like it wasn’t necessarily your place; his mothers death always being a touchy subject with him. Which you understood, as your own mother died in a house fire similar when you were six months old. But the difference was, your father gave you the choice if you wanted to be a hunter or not. A choice you made when you turned 18.

There was silence between the two of you as Dean refused to look at you, as he was too deep in thought. He wanted to scream at you, tell you to mind your own business. Tell you that you should understand. But he knew that there was no point in yelling at you, no point in getting upset, because as much as he hated to admit it…you were right. “You know, growing up, I wanted to be a firefighter,” Dean said, finally breaking the silence. “But I know that’ll never be in the cards for me.”

“It still can be,” you commented. “I think you’d make a pretty great one.”

You saw him grin from your comment briefly before his face turned stoic again. “I gotta find out what killed our moms first.”

“And then you’ll become one?” You asked, still entertaining the idea with him.

He shrugged. “Maybe,” he grinned again. “How about you? What did you want to do?”

“Veterinarian,” you confessed. “Animals are much better than people.”

“I heard you have to be really smart to do that,” he said turning to look at you.

“Well it’s a good thing I was an AP kid in school,” you grinned.

“Fucking nerd,” he said, letting out a small chuckle, before patting your thigh.

“But I’m your nerd,” you smiled.

“You bet your ass you are,” he smiled back, giving you a wink.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @octoberclidan @kidwhofixates @crystal555 @hannahisthebanana @seamlessepiphany @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @globtrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @mrlonelycat @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @frozenhuntress67 If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I'd copy-and-pasted this request into my doc to write it, but now I can't find it in my inbox! I don't think it was anonymous, so if this is your request and it somehow got deleted, I'm very sorry! Thank you for requesting, apologies for the wait, and hope you like it <3

hi love!!! Congratulations on 1,000 followers!!! I absolutely adore your writing and if your requests are open I’d love it if you could right something about poly marauders with a reader who’s non-binary or gender fluid. Maybe they just got together and the reader hasn’t came out to them yet or something. Idk you get all the writing freedom, of course if you don’t want to write it’s totally fine!!! Thanks anyway 🫶💗🫶💗 xoxo

cw: marauders unknowingly misrepresent reader's pronouns+gender

poly!marauders x nb!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“Sirius, no.” Remus rubs at his temples. “I will not mar you with a tattoo gun you bought from some bloke on the street.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a wuss,” Sirius complains, sitting spread out on his bed. “It'll be fun, you can all do it!”

“I’m on board,” James says from his own bed. He’s levitating his shoes about the room idly. “Hey Pads, can we draw anything we want?” 

Sirius ponders this for a moment. “If you do a dick, it has to be small, and I’m putting an arrow with your name next to it.” 

James’ smile fades, and he lets the shoes drop. “You’re no fun.” 

“I don’t know,” you say to Remus, looking up at him from your chosen spot on the floor of their dorm. “It’s his body, I say let him cover it in shitty tattoos if that’s what he wants.” 

“Yes!” Sirius hops down from his bed to throw an arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your cheek. “That’s what I’m talking about, that’s my girl!” 

You’d begun to glow at his over-the-top praise, but you dim at the last bit. Sirius must feel it; he looks over at you quizzically as Remus says for the fifth time, “That’s fine, but I won’t have anything to do with it.” 

“Well, it’ll…” Sirius’ eyebrows furrow as he continues to watch you. You try to bury your discontent where he can’t see it, but once he catches a whiff of melancholy he becomes a dog with a bone. The levity slowly leeches from his voice. “It’ll be more fun if you all do it…Sorry, sweetheart, is everything alright?” 

You don’t want the attention, but you can’t bring yourself to lie. “I didn’t mean to distract you,” you say softly, shoulders hunching forward. “Keep going.” 

“No, that’s alright.” His slender fingers squeeze at your shoulder like he can tell you need the comfort. “It’s not actually important. What’s on your mind?” 

You want to tell him. You want to tell all of them, you have for weeks, but is there ever a right time? When the boys had first asked you out, it felt too abrupt to say anything, like you were making a big deal out of nothing because they didn’t even know you all that well. But now you’ve turned serious faster than you could’ve seen coming, and they feel like they do know you that well. And the longer you go without telling them, the more like you feel like you’re keeping some dirty secret. 

You should have just corrected them the first time they’d gotten your pronouns wrong. Each time feels like someone’s chipping away at your heart with a toothpick, the pain lessened by your surety in their good intentions but still very much there. It’s almost worse, now, to be on the precipice of falling in love with people who you don’t feel really know you, and it’s all your own fault.

This isn’t how you’d imagined the conversation coming about, but it might be the best chance you get for a while. 

“I, uh.” You clear your throat, unsure if you should move out from under Sirius’ arm for this conversation but really not wanting to. “I don’t…listen, it’s not your fault, but I don’t really like it when you call me your girl.” 

Sirius lets his arm drop to look at you properly, hurt flashing across his features. You take his hand, selfish thing that you are. “I mean it, it’s really not your fault.” It’s more plea than promise. “It’s just that I don’t—I don’t really see myself as a girl. I’m sorry.” 

You watch confusion take hold in Sirius’ expression before letting your eyes flit to the other boys. James looks tentatively like he’s beginning to understand, and Remus’ face is carefully controlled. He leans his elbows on his knees, looking down at you. 

“What do you mean by that, honey?” 

You know the endearment is meant to soften the question, but you get all tense around the middle anyway. 

“Just that…” You swallow, and James offers you a small smile of encouragement. “I don’t really see myself as any gender. It’s…it’s called nonbinary, I don’t know if you might’ve heard of it before? I’m really sorry I didn’t say something sooner.” 

“Hey, that’s alright.” James kicks a foot out from his bed, nudging your leg gently. “I’m really glad you told us, angel. Thank you.” 

You try to return his smile, chewing your lip. 

“Merlin, I thought you meant you didn’t want to be our girl,” Sirius sighs, bumping your shoulder with his. “That would have been unacceptable. You can be our something-else, though, if you like.” 

This is going well, you tell yourself. They’re being as kind as you’d always expected. Still, you don’t feel like they fully understand what you’re so clumsily trying to tell them.

“I get it if this changes things for you,” you say, and when you lean away from Sirius’ touch, he doesn’t chase you. “I know this is…you signed on for a girlfriend, not this.” 

The gentle smile drops from James’ face. His eyebrows twitch together uncertainly. “We…what? No, we didn’t…we didn’t ‘sign on’ for anything like that. We signed on for you.” 

“Darling,” Remus says, in that careful, measured voice that you can’t decide if you should be nervous about, “I don’t know a lot about this, so correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point that you’re still you? You’re just telling us how you’d like to be treated and understood, right?”

You take a second to run over his words in your head before nodding. 

Everything about Remus has gone soft, from his eyes to the gentle uptilt of his mouth. “Then James is right. Nothing has changed. I mean, we can make any changes to our relationship that make you more comfortable, but nothing about how much we care for you is any different.” 

“And look around you, sweetheart.” Laughter livens Sirius’ tone. “It’s not like any of us are only dating girls.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. “That’s a good point,” you mumble, and he laughs, arm reclaiming its spot around your shoulders. 

“Yeah, I actually do make those sometimes,” he teases. “Listen, gorgeous, I don’t think anyone here has a problem with you being whoever you are. Just tell us what you like to be called, and we will. And if there’s anything we do that you don’t like,” he adds, giving your shoulder a little squeeze, “you can tell us those things too.” 

James nods, emphatic. “Exactly. We want to support you, angel. Thanks for telling us, but just keep talking to us when you can, okay?” 

You have to bite down on your lip to contain the full scope of your smile. “Okay,” you promise him, overflowing with a gratitude that feels a lot like love. “Thanks. You guys are too sweet to me.” 

Remus makes a pfft sound. “Dove, I cannot believe that is your standard for sweetness. You’ve set the bar far too low.” 

[raspberryberyl]

not to like vague post, i just don't really feel like reblogging, adding my comment, and disrupting the og post. let people feel how they want to feel, and not start any arguments sorta.

but i just saw this post that was like "if you're thinking about getting into dsmp, don't" and lots of people always talking about how they're embarrassed, or regret it, or want to forget that part of their life. and i just can't help but think about how thats the farthest from the truth for me. i don't think I'll ever regret it :-)

and i know that we all have different experiences, people were going through different things and might want to move on and forget, and that's all valid.

the dsmp fandom is just such an experience. and yeah its become soured by cc turning out to be bad people, by bad writing, and by disappointing endings.

yeah it would be hard to get into now, lots of vods and its just not the same experience as watching and experiencing it all live. what made the fandom was the fans, but you can still find fics, go listen to songs, dig up analysis, find art and animatics.

I just feel like there's nowhere where i discovered more about myself, felt heard, found connection, and felt at home more than the dsmp fandom. It's my chosen home. It's my safe place. and when you feel that way about something, why would you not recommend it? share it with others :-)

so because of my bias and own personal experiences, if you were thinking about getting into the dsmp fandom I'd say go for it, I'd totally recommend it! its not the same as it used to be, it'll be a different experience, and we are a small few left but we are mighty.

just be aware of the problems within the source and within the fandom, and you should be good. know that it does have a disappointing end, but you can make up your own ending, or search, find, and connect with others through the ending they came up with.

being in the fandom doesn't mean you're supporting anyone. don't feel bad or embarrassed about liking the dsmp.

to the people who have and do feel like they've been hurt by it, and to the people that feel like they wasted their childhood, time, snd energy on it, I'm sorry, and you're valid to feel how you feel. I hope you've been able to move on to better and happier things.

I love the dsmp, and I don't see that changing, or me regretting it. If i could share my love of it with you i would. So don't be afraid to give it a chance, hey, you can always change your mind.

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

HELLO I moved last week and I have no WiFi or service in my flat (posting from a coffee shop) so I apologise for the lack of posting.

However, this was meant to be for today's wolfstarmicrofic prompt Basilisk, but it's officially much too long because I've missed writing to post lmao, so it's not a microfic.

(Ravenclaw Remus AU.)

"Lupin, you're patrolling with..." Moody flicks quickly through his notes, "Black."

"Oh, er... Alright," he says with a shrug, trying to pass himself off as calm.

Internally? Every single alarm is going off in his head.

Remus never exactly... spoke to Sirius Black, or his friends. Ravenclaws and Gryffindors aren't really destined to interact, and Remus would have chosen death over joining the Quidditch team. That didn't stop him from being one of far too many people in the school that had a major minor crush on Sirius.

Sure, he knew that Sirius had grown up rich and pampered. He always held himself in this way that made him seem ten times more important than everyone else. That wasn't exactly helped by the fact that he was a Gryffindor. Lily, Mary and Marlene were the only Gryffindors Remus has ever really tolerated. The rest are all pretentious as fuck. Everyone knows that.

Still, for some reason, his brain would short circuit whenever he was so much in the same room as Sirius. He still lays awake at night, humiliated about the time he accidentally caught Sirius' eyes and tripped over the bench in the Great Hall.

Joining the Order wasn't even a question for him. Anything to help them win the war. He hadn't exactly expected Sirius to do the same, but it just makes him feel like he's back in school. Frustratingly enough for him, Sirius has only gotten more attractive in the year since they've left school. It hasn't really mattered until now, though. He's been pretty successful in avoiding him. It's probably helped by the fact that he isn't even on Sirius' radar, but this? He's going to set the strangest first impression on the planet.

There's nothing he can do about it, though.

That's how Remus finds himself waiting outside the Order house, fidgeting with an unlit cigarette.

"Hey, Remus!"

There he is.

Remus looks up, shoving the cigarette back into the carton. Sirius has stopped in front of him, running a hand through his hair and grinning at Remus.

Leather jackets look weird on literally everyone other than him.

Remus has to jostle his brain into functioning. He blinks once, before finally mustering a polite smile.

"Hi. Should we get going?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

They walk in silence for a while, moving from spot to spot and taking the odd note.

Until Sirius decides he's done with all of that.

"Y'know, I was hoping you'd join the Order."

"Sorry?" Remus practically stops in his tracks, turning to Sirius with wide eyes. Shock ripples through him.

Hoping?

"I mean, I had a feeling you would. I'm just... glad you did, I guess."

"I didn't even know you knew I existed," Remus confesses quickly.

Sirius actually does stop moving, grabbing Remus' forearm and stopping him too.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, really. You existed on this... separate plane. I mean, you were you. Everyone knew about you. Why would I be on your radar?"

"Remus," Sirius says slowly, eyes boring into Remus'. It sends a shiver down Remus' spine. "All I did was think about you."

"What?" Remus sputters, a strange mixture of confusion and shock overwhelming him.

"Oh, I had such a crush on you." He shrugs like it's nothing; like what he just said hasn't turned Remus' entire world on its axis. "I thought that was obvious, I mean... you're bloody brilliant. Ravenclaw prefect, running a study group-"

"I can't believe you've even given me a second thought," Remus says, a little breathless.

"Merlin, I did. I remember telling James that I'd fight a Basilisk for you." Sirius chuckles to himself, but Remus is losing control over his own responses scarily quickly. "I know you couldn't stand me, but-"

"Who said that?"

"Nobody had to." Sirius watches Remus, a little puzzled. "You're not the biggest fan of Gryffindors, right?"

Well, he's not wrong.

"Besides, you couldn't stay in the same room as me. You literally fell over yourself trying to get away from me before."

"Oh, God," Remus mutters under his breath, his face heating up uncomfortably. His one comfort has been that Sirius didn't notice him embarrassing himself every time he walked into the room.

"Sorry," Sirius says suddenly, releasing Remus' hand. "I didn't mean to- Christ, I've made things even more awkward, haven't I?"

Huh.

He's not as confident as Remus thought.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- let's just forget I said that. Finish patrolling."

No.

Remus doesn't want to forget. He needs to do something, before Sirius never speaks to him again.

Hurriedly, he grabs Sirius' hand, pulling him into an alley nearby.

Well, he's committed to it now. No turning back.

"Remus, what-"

He pulls Sirius in by his stupidly perfect jacket and connects their lips before he has a chance to second guess himself.

Thankfully, Sirius wastes no time in falling into the kiss. His lips are soft against Remus', parting just enough for their tongues to meet.

The kiss is everything he could have imagined and more. Sirius is somehow both tentative and eager and he tastes like cinnamon and fuck, Remus may as well have died and gone to heaven. His hand involuntarily slides into Sirius' hair, and he's rewarded with a muffled gasp.

Okay, maybe Gryffindors aren't that bad.

[galacticlamps]

ok I have A Lot of thoughts about the staircase confession (well really about Edwin's whole character arc, but all roads lead to rome) but for now I just wanna say that, yes, I was bracing myself for something to go terribly wrong when I first watched it, and yes, part of me was initially worried its placement might be an uncharacteristically foolish choice made in the name of Drama or Pacing or Making a Compelling Episode of Television but at the expense of narrative sense--

But I wanna say that having taken all that into account, and watched it play out, and sat with it - and honestly become rather transfixed by it - I really think it's a beautifully crafted moment and truly the only way that arc could've arrived at such a satisfying conclusion.

And if I had to pinpoint why I not only buy it but also have come to really treasure it, I'd have to put it down to the fact that it genuinely is a confession, and nothing else.

That moment is an announcement of what Edwin has come to understand about himself, but because it takes the form of a character admitting romantic feelings for such a close friend, I think it can be very easy, when writing that kind of thing, to imbue it with other elements like a plea or a request or even the start of a new relationship that, intentionally or not, would change the shape of the moment and can quickly overshadow what a huge deal the telling is all on its own. But that's not the case here. Since it is only a confession, unaccompanied by anything else, and since we see afterward how it was enough, evidently, to fix the strangeness that had grown between him & Charles, we're forced to understand that it was never Edwin's feelings that were actually making things difficult for him - it was not being able to tell Charles about them. 'Terrified' as he's been of this, Edwin learns that his feelings don't need to either disappear completely or be totally reciprocated in order for him to be able to return to the peace, stability, and security of the relationship with which he defines his existence - and the scale of that relief a) tells us a hell of a lot about Edwin as a character and b) totally justifies the way his declaration just bursts out of him at what would otherwise be such a poorly chosen moment, in my opinion.

Whether or not they are or ever could be reciprocated, Edwin's feelings are definitively proven not to be the problem here - only his potential choice to bottle it up - his repression - is. And where that repression had once been mainly involuntary, a product of what he'd been through, now that he's got this new awareness of himself, if he still fails to admit what he's found either to himself or to the one person he's so unambiguously close with, then that repression will be by his own choice and actions.

And he won't do that. Among other things, he's coming into this scene having just (unknowingly) absolved the soul of his own school bully and accidental killer by pointing out a fact that is every bit as central to his self-discovery as anything about his sexuality or his attraction to Charles is: the idea that "If you punish yourself, everywhere becomes Hell"

So narratively speaking, of course it makes sense that Edwin literally cannot get out of Hell until he stops punishing himself - and right now, the thing that's torturing him is something he has control over. It's not who he is or what he feels, but what he chooses to do with those feelings that's hurting him, and he's even already made the conscious choice to tell Charles about them, he was just interrupted. But now that they're back together and he's literally in the middle of an attempt to escape Hell, there is absolutely no way he can so much as stop for breath without telling Charles the truth. Even the stopping for breath is so loaded - because they're ghosts, they don't need to breathe, but also they're in Hell, so the one thing they can feel is pain, however nonsensical. And Edwin certainly is in pain. But whether he knows what he's about to do or not when he says he 'just needs a tick,' a breather is absolutely not what's gonna give him enough relief to keep climbing - it's fixing that other hurt, though, that will.

Like everything else in that scene, there's a lot of layers to him promising Charles "You don't have to feel the same way, I just needed you to know" - but I don't think that means it isn't also true on a surface level. It's the act of telling Charles that matters so much more than whatever follows it, and while that might have gone unnoticed if anything else major had happened in the same conversation, now we're forced to acknowledge its staggering and singular importance for what it is. The moment is well-earned and properly built up to, but until we see it happen in all its wonderful simplicity, and we see the aftermath (or lack thereof, even), we couldn't properly anticipate how much of a weight off Edwin's shoulders merely getting to share the truth with Charles was going to be, why he couldn't wait for a better, safer opportunity before giving in to that desire, or how badly he needed to say it and nothing else - and I really, really love the weight that act of just being honest, seen, and known is given in their story/relationship.

[drdemonprince]

i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT. I hope this message finds you well. I am sending all the good vibes and we'll wishes your way! ♥️♥️♥️ I hope you've had a wonderful summer.

I'm such a big fan of your work. Lioneheart is amazing and has stuck with me for such a long time.

I was wondering if you had any other stories you'd like to explore one day (even if you never get the chance to write them.) Whether it be fanfiction or original work, I was just curious because sometimes I feel as if I have hundreds of stories inside that I could tell, and I am not sure how to pick just one and see it to completion.

First of all, thank you! This is a fun one. I have a few enduring ideas for longfics I may or may not ever write (i.e., ideas that would have been projects already if I didn't have an ongoing longfic). I don't get stuck in them mostly because I try to remind myself that the idealized story you imagine when a concept occurs to you will never actually exist as it does when it's unshackled by the constraints of execution. What you'll get if you actually sit down and hack it out is (1) a real and imperfect piece of writing, and (2) the satisfaction of having written it, which is by far the more reliable source of motivation, if we're being honest. That being said, here are some ideas I've always wanted to explore, if and when I finish Lionheart:

I've always wanted to write a longform canon-divergent Tomione fic about Tom Riddle's 7th year at Hogwarts. Big honking political melodrama ft. the original Knights of Walpurgis, a Triwizard Tournament, and realistically functioning time travel (hence why this one's always been kicked down my list of projects, because writing a time-travel plot is like running through a minefield made of trampolines). I've already got character concepts sketched out for the Hogwarts cast — sooooo many fun ideas for the teenage Walburga. But I'd still need about a week of solid fic preproduction on the plot alone before I was ready to boot up and start writing, and it'd take at least 250k words — closer to 300k, if I'm being honest about myself. So this probably won't see the light of day anytime remotely soon, if ever.

A canon-compliant Dramione war fic, diverging from the Malfoy Manor chapters in Book 7, picking up from a speculative thread I read once about what would happen if the war didn't end after Voldemort died at the Battle of Hogwarts. I've always thought it would be fascinating to see who Hermione and Draco would become if they were actual soldiers in the war (and my disappointment with how Book 7 handled the "war" of it all has been established). That being said, Book 7 of Lionheart will probably give me a lot of similar ideas to chew on, so I don't know what my appetite for this one will be once I'm finished with it.

Durmstrang AU. This one's barely a fic concept so much as it is a mental moodboard — I just want to worldbuild the hell out of Durmstrang. And the international wizarding world, generally. It's a delicious sandbox.

A longform canon-compliant fic or series of fics about the previous generation of Blacks (Sirius/Bellatrix/Narcissa, namely). If you look at the books, there's a huge amount we don't know about the fall of the Blacks. I always found it bizarre that the sisters and Sirius seem to be the only ones left by 1995. No one else has a claim? No one else from this all-powerful wizarding family wants to step in and claim this big honking townhouse in the middle of London? Or its attendant fortune? Dude, what happened? Also, we don't see nearly enough of the Black family melodrama in canon. They lose 4/5 children of a generation in the span of almost single decade. And then (presumably) all of their parents die in the span of another. Goddamn. Just imagine the character work you could do there.

A No Chosen One/Voldemort Wins (The First Time) AU where Hermione never gets her letter, and meets Draco much later in life as a self-taught witch. The dynamics I have in my head for this are really enjoyable, and it would be a chance to finally write Hermione POV, plus the Draco I've cooked up for this universe is [chefs kiss]. I also just love the idea of Hermione as a feral witch-child running around muggle London. I love it a lot.

[bumblesimagines]

Marcus Baker

you never gave me back my things.

i was hoping i'd see you again.

i never like how it ended between us.

you never gave me back my things.

i was hoping i'd see you again.

i never like how it ended between us.

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, Gender Neutral!Reader

You released a sigh of relief as you slumped back in the chair and released the pencil, giving your aching hand a much-needed break. You rubbed the area between your thumb and index finger, pleased to have finally finished the five-page essay for English class. You were certain if you had to read another ancient poem and write an essay about it again, you'd have a breakdown alongside your classmates. But with the pressure of the deadline disappearing, you looked forward to taking a break from classwork. 

You stood up from the table and collected the papers, carefully slipping them into a folder and then sliding the folder into your backpack. You nodded to the other students studying and working at the table before slinging your backpack over your shoulder and making a beeline for the doors. As much as you loved the school's library, you never wanted to step foot in it again for at least two weeks. 

"Hey, (Y/N)!" A voice called out, attempting to be quiet but still getting dirty looks from those nearby. Marcus dipped his head apologetically and whispered a few 'sorry's before facing you and offering a sheepish, equally as apologetic smile. 

Before Virginia Miller had strolled into Wellsbury, you might've greeted Marcus with a kiss and told him all about your day. You might've taken his hand, listened to his troubles, and given him as much advice and reassurance as he needed. But he'd chosen to ruin the relationship you'd poured so much time into over a girl he hardly knew well. You half-expected them to boldly continue their secret relationship as an official couple now, but all you saw were longing looks from her and an exhausted-looking Marcus.

"I heard you were going to start tutoring again and- and was wondering if you could help me with homework? I'll pay you, obviously. I don't have a lot but-"

"Silver's looking, too. I can pass her your number and she'll help you with whatever you need, Marcus." You told him, turning on your heel and stepping out of the library. The door shut behind you, only to open again as Marcus followed. The Bakers seemed like a notoriously stubborn family, and yet they'd been a family you once wished to become a part of.

"Actually, I was hoping I'd see you again. I-I wanted to talk about everything, you know? I didn't like how it ended between us." Marcus explained, occasionally stumbling over his words as he quickened his pace to catch up with you. 

"Oh, you mean how you spent months secretly hooking up with your neighbor who was in a relationship with one of your sister's friends and I found out at the same time as everyone else because you didn't have the balls to tell me you didn't want to be with me anymore? It would've saved me a whole lot of trouble, Marcus. And by the way, you never gave me back my things."

Marcus quickened his step again and stepped in front of you, his hands shooting out to grab your forearms and force you to stop. You pursed your lips, your jaw clenching briefly and head tilting to finally look him in the eye. "I fucked up, and I'm really sorry, (Y/N). And I didn't tell you about Ginny because I didn't want to break up. I-I-I was an asshole, I know that. I don't know what I was thinking but I knew I didn't want to lose you. I was confused and-"

"You were confused for nearly a whole year, Marcus? I seriously doubt that. Like I said, you would've saved me a lot of trouble being honest. Besides, if Ginny really wanted you, she wouldn't have gotten with Hunter." You brushed his arms away and stepped back. "Please, just drop this Marcus. It's over and it'll stay over. Maybe I'll forgive you and we'll become friends again but... I don't really want you in my life right now."