#reader in the margins

[waitingforwinterwinds]

Surprise, not dead!

So here's what's been happening: the day after my last post was a super heavy workload day for me and when I got home, I was kinda busy, and I thought to myself "I'll take a quick five minutes to just jot down some meta on the Ygritte/Jon Snow relationship regarding the sexual abuse, voided consent and the juxtapose of what I think was GRRM's intent versus what he actually wrote" because Rouka's right, that relationship is pretty fucked up in actuality, and that's not something I've been addressing (directly if at all*) in my read throughs for a couple of reasons, but I do kinda want to have a chat about it at some point. ("chat" I mean rambling thought train.)

(*like, to the point I think I've accidentally given an impression that I feel one way rather than another on the matter actually? maybe? That's gonna be awkward if true.)

several distractions, hours and pages later I have an incoherent mess between key points, that clearly needs to be put aside for a few days at the very least and several rounds of editing, so I save it, look over at the clock and think "how the fudge ducking hell is it so far after midnight???"

So naturally I think "it's fiiiiine, I'll do Dany's chapter in the morning and be back on schedule for evening."

More fool me.

The eagle eyed amongst my regulars might be able to tell you I have a weakness against psychic damage.

I'm prone to headaches.

It's actually a little worse than that: I'm genetically predisposed to migraines that send me blind. (Kind of a miracle this hasn't cropped up to this degree before now during the project.)

So I've been working on limited vision the past few days; that's stabilized and I'm back to my normal field of vision, but my brain does still feel incredibly bruised, and like someone's taking a sledgehammer to a pickax lodged in my grey matter if I step too enthusiastically.

I'm hoping to be back to the read through tomorrow, but we'll have to see.

The meta piece, if I end up deciding to go ahead with that one, will probably be a few days after Ygritte dies (omg spoilers) and if it does happen, after speaking with their agents, Steel Chair has agreed to be on hand for a special guest appearance.

And no, the fandom is not allowed to weaponise feminism on this one. (I've been in the female character tags, I know some of y'all will take any excuse whether you actually like a lady or not.)

Anyway, painkillers, hydration, and bed for me.

Goodnight~

[grand-line-shenanigans]

For those of us who cannot comprehend big numbers (me) I have done the math. FOUR FUCKING YEARS. SECUNIT WHAT THE FUCK.

[draftingnovels-imagines]

Gorgons are lonely creatures, ones that are cursed to a lifetime of solitude due to their petrifying case. It's sad really. To be cursed to be unable to look into the eyes of those around them and to scare everyone away because of their power and their looks. So whenever they do make connections, they protect them fiercely and with pride. Their blood might be cold like the snakes on top of their head, but they are overly affectionate almost to a fault. Their bodies coil around you tightly, like a full body hug. They tuck their snakes away to protect you from their venom. All they want is for someone to be there for them. For someone to understand them better than someone understands themselves. Isn't that what we all want?

[readingrobin]

I wonder if the book/media at large community is ready to have the discussion of just because your story includes and highlights marginalized characters, it doesn't automatically make it good.

Coming from a queer person, I've read many books with queer characters that really fell flat for me, not because of the representation, but due to things like overstuffed plots, pacing issues, lack of cohesion, etc.

The fact that media as a whole is becoming a little more diverse and inclusive is great, but most of the time it's not enough to save a story that doesn't work for you.

[antichilde]

margin of error: part 2

satoru gojo x fem reader, 2.8k words mdni

in which gojo makes some progress…?

contents: student teacher!gojo, student reader, no curses, college au, slight age difference (gojo is 20, you are a couple years older), he falls first, no smut (for now)

notes: here we go again. as always comments/asks are appreciated. (image citation)

part one | ao3 post

Gojo’s pleasantly surprised when you’re the one to initiate the next conversation.

He looks up from his work and spots you hovering by the door to the study room where office hours are set to take place. It’s been a slow day, though to be honest it’s always a slow day when it comes to office hours. Usually people don’t need much help with an intro level course, especially not this early in the school year.

“Is Shoko here?” you ask, hugging your bag to your chest as you look around.

“Just me today. Can I help you with something?”

After carefully weighing your options, you step forwards into the room. “I was going to ask her to go over the stuff from class this week. We usually run through Yaga’s powerpoints.”

Nodding, Gojo opens his laptop and pulls Canvas up. You take a seat across from him, still a little reluctant, eyeing him with what might be dislike but is more likely distrust.

“Just this week’s stuff?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“Mm-hm.”

It’s not a lot of material, nor is it anything particularly challenging, and as Gojo reviews it with you he wonders if this is just some ploy to get closer to Shoko. She is pretty, and although Geto had said you like guys that doesn’t rule out the possibility that you’re into women as well. Besides, there’s no way you’d really need to go through such basic stuff, right? Not when you’d just been taught it the day before.

Your concentration suggests otherwise. He’s surprised by how seriously you take his explanations, jotting down notes and stopping him in several places to ask more questions. By the time he finishes, you seem to have a much firmer grasp on the material.

“Thank you,” you say, putting away your things. “That was helpful.”

He frowns. “You sound surprised.”

“I am, but you’re actually a pretty good teacher.”

The praise catches him off guard, hidden beneath a tone that suggests indifference. His brows furrow for a moment as he tries to get a read on you, though he schools his expression quickly.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he replies, deciding to take your words at face value. “Shoko’s pre-med track is picking up, so she’s just going to be helping with labs outside of class.”

“Yeah, she told me. I didn’t realize it would happen so soon though.” Biting your lip, you take a moment to think. “Is it okay if I stop in after the next lecture?”

“Of course,” Gojo says, already drafting a victorious text to Geto in his head. Nothing too smug, just something along the lines of ‘I’m totally her type she wants me so bad.’ Because that’s gotta be what you’re thinking, right? Asking to come back again so soon?

Getting to your feet, you scoop up your notebook and tuck it under your arm. “Thanks. I’ll see you in class, Gojo.”

You disappear into the hall, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. He sits back, already dissecting the encounter in his mind. It seems that you praise of his teaching abilities had been genuine after all. Definitely progress, not to mention you’d remembered his name this time.

The days grow shorter as October wears on. Gojo’s own school work begins to pick up, though of course most of it poses little difficulty for him. There’s only one class that he thinks might cause problems down the line, and that’s Creative Writing.

“How the hell did you land in Creative Writing?” Geto asks, pouring boiling water into his teacup. “That doesn’t exactly fit your M.O.”

Gojo groans, resting his cheek on the kitchen counter. “It was a last minute edition. I forgot we’re required to take a language arts class, and I’m not going to have time to do it next year.”

Setting down the kettle, Geto leans back against the kitchen cabinets. “I think it’ll be good for you. What’s on the syllabus?”

“Poetry,” Gojo spits, managing to squeeze several cobras worth of venom into that single word. “Who thought having a well-rounded education was a good idea?”

“Not me, that’s for sure. I’ve got a mandatory life sciences class coming up.” Geto pauses, leaning forwards to put himself in Gojo’s line of sight. “But who knows, maybe you’ll be my TA. Just don’t flirt with me too much, I hear you’re quite the distraction.”

Peeking out from beneath the curtain of his bangs, Gojo smiles. “So she said I’m distracting?”

“I think her exact words were ‘pain in the ass,’ but yeah, something along those lines.”

He goes back to sulking, his skin still pressed against the cool stone of the countertop. When he speaks, his voice is muffled.

“Did she really say that about me?”

Shaking his head, Geto smiles faintly as he straightens up. “No, I’m just messing with you. She did tell me that you’ve been helping her with her work though.”

So you’d talked to Geto about him, and by the sound of it you’d had positive things to say. That’s good to know, especially given how impossible it is to read you. Even after meeting a couple more times, Gojo has no idea what’s going on in your head.

“Do you think she’ll show next week?” he asks.

“At the party? Could go either way. I invited her, but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet. It’s hard to pin her down about that kind of thing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gojo says, sounding thoughtful. “In case she ever asks me to pin her down.”

He laughs at Geto’s irritated expression. “C’mon, you know I’m kidding.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” he concedes. “But I mostly said it to annoy you.”

Geto checks the time on his phone, pushing off of the cabinets and returning to his neglected mug of tea. Fishing out the bag, he tosses it into the compost.

“You’re not really going through with this, are you?” he asks, taking a sip and wincing as he burns his tongue.

“With what?”

“With the whole ‘I can make her fall for me’ bit. It’s kind of messed up.”

Leaning back, Gojo crosses his arms. He’s pulled this kind of thing before, winning hearts just for the hell of it, and though Geto has never exactly approved, this is the first time he’s said anything outright.

“Are you sure you don’t have feelings for her?” he asks.

Geto sighs, raking his free hand through his hair and pushing it out of his eyes. “I told you it’s not like that. Is it really so hard to believe that I care about my friend’s wellbeing?”

“No, I guess not, though I don’t understand what you’re so upset about. She’s an adult who can take care of herself, right? That’s what you said last time.”

Geto’s phone buzzes before he can answer. He scoops it up from the counter, unlocking it. “Utahime says she’s on her way to drop off drinks for the party.”

The phone vibrates again as another text arrives.

“…And that she’s going to start charging a service fee if we keep asking her to get us alcohol.”

“That seems like a pretty empty threat,” Gojo says, grateful for the change of subject. “I doubt we’ll throw any more parties before I turn twenty-one.”

“God, I hope not. I’d like to get at least some of our security deposit back.”

Shoving his phone into his pocket, Geto sets his tea on the counter and turns away. “I’m going to meet her outside. I’ll text you if we need your help carrying anything.”

“Okay, just let me know!” Gojo calls after him, reaching for his phone. It’s muted before Geto’s even had time to shut the door.

Gojo bounces his knee under the desk, neglecting the poem that he’s supposed to be annotating. Creative Writing has been even more of a pain than he’d expected— something about it just doesn’t click with him. He sighs, frowning as his eyes drop to the paper.

To Gojo, pretty words are a means to an end. They’re good when he wants something, but when it comes to writing he can’t see much value in them. Why use something in a hundred words when one will do? And why curate those hundred words when they’re not even necessary in the first place?

“You look unhappy.”

He jumps at the sound of your voice, looking up to see you standing in the doorway.

“I’m fine,” he says with a smile, shoving the paper under his computer and safely out of sight. “Just doing some homework.”

Part of him wants you to push the subject, to question him about his behavior and ask if he’s alright. But you don’t. Instead you take your seat, pulling out your notebook and setting it on the table just like you always do.

“I was looking at the study guide for the next test, and I think I might’ve missed a couple things in class. Can we go over it?”

“Sure,” he says with a pang of disappointment. “Which parts are you having trouble with?”

All of them, it would seem. Gojo sneaks a couple covert glances at the clock, trying to work out whether or not you’re going to run overtime. Office hours technically end at 5:30, but he has the feeling that you’re going to need longer than that.

Shit. He’d planned to meet up with a girl at 6:00. At this rate there’s no way he’ll be able to make it.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, pausing to massage some life back into your cramped wrist. Even from across the table Gojo can see the indent in your middle finger, left there by the constant pressure of your pencil. His own hand twinges in sympathy.

“One sec, I just realized that I forgot to text Suguru back about something.”

He pulls out his phone, drafting a ‘sorry-I-won’t-be-able-to-make-it’ text. Out of the corner of his eye he sees you stretch, tracking the way your shirt catches on the underside of your bra. Suddenly bailing on his plans doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.

“I didn’t think I’d need so much help,” you say, checking the time and wincing when you see how late it is. “I can try and figure out the rest on my own if you need to go.”

Sending the message, Gojo shoves his phone into his pocket and turns his attention back to you. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I have anywhere I need to be.”

Hopefully you won’t catch him in a lie by following up with Geto, though maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for you to know he’s prioritizing you over other women.

“Ready to keep going?” he asks, placing a hand on the study guide and spinning around it to face you. You nod, picking up your pencil.

It’s fully dark out by the time the two of you leave the library, a combination of the days growing shorter and the extra hour or so that you’d spent together.

“I’ll walk you home,” Gojo says, holding the door open.

You pause inside the foyer. “Try rephrasing that.”

“Um.” His mind races as he tries to figure out where he went wrong. “…Can I walk you home?”

He half expects you to flat out reject him, but you brush past, slinging your bag over one shoulder. “If you really want to.”

He leaves the door to shut itself, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature. It’s chilly out, a stiff breeze sweeping autumn leaves onto the sidewalk. They crunch under his shoes as he hurries to catch up.

“Thank you for staying late to help me,” you say, hugging yourself to keep your hands warm. Damn, he should’ve brought a jacket. What a missed opportunity— you’d look good draped in one of his coats.

“It’s no problem,” he says. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Were you working on your Creative Writing homework when I came in?”

The question throws him for a moment, but of course you know about his stupid writing class. He’ll have to ask Suguru about what other information he’s spilled to his advisory chat.

“Yeah. I’m supposed to annotate a poem, but it’s really not my forté.”

“I thought you were good at everything.”

He huffs out a sigh, the cold condensing his breath into a little cloud. “I am, but that doesn’t mean I like everything.”

It’s a long moment before you reply. The wind tosses around the branches overhead, filling up the silence between you. Somewhere in the distance a siren wails.

“Are you doing anything later tonight?” you ask.

Folding his arms behind his head, Gojo spins to face you, walking backwards like a campus tour guide. “Is that your way of asking me out?”

You frown. “What? No. I was just trying to make conversation.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. I would’ve said yes.”

Skirting around a pile of leaves, you readjust your bag, moving it to your other shoulder. “I know you would have. You’re not very subtle, Gojo.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, dropping his arms back to his sides.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t be coy. You’ve been hitting on me for weeks.”

So you’re aware of it then.

Logically, he’d known that you can’t be that oblivious, but some part of him had been holding out hope that maybe you are. Because the other possibility is that you don’t react because you’re genuinely not affected by him, and that’s uncharted territory. Everyone likes Gojo. Even people who don’t know they like Gojo like Gojo.

Still, he can work with this. The fact that you brought it up might actually make things easier.

“I guess you’ve figured me out, so there’s no point in hiding it.” He pushes his glasses up his forehead, making a show of mustering up his courage. “I really like you, and I want to get to know you better.”

You look past him, focusing on something else. “You’re going to trip on that stick if you keep walking backwards.”

“You’d catch me though, right?”

“Probably not.”

Sighing, he turns to face the path. The stick is there just as you said it would be, and he nearly trips on it anyway.

“Aren’t you going to say you like me too?” he asks once he’s regained his composure.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You stop to grab the stick, tossing it onto the grass. It lands with a crunch in a drift of leaves. “But it doesn’t really matter either way.”

“It does to me. You’re not even going to give me a chance?”

You reflect on the question, then shake your head. “No. If you were telling the truth maybe I’d consider it, but I doubt you’re really interested in me.”

He frowns. “That’s a little harsh— you should be more confident. Hasn’t anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“Yes. They have. My self esteem isn’t the problem here. I just don’t trust you.”

It’s almost eerie the way you say it, completely devoid of emotion. Had they been delivered in any other way the words would sound accusatory, and yet somehow he can tell you’re not angry.

“But I’m telling the truth. I really do like you.” His gaze meets yours, earnest and pleading. The look is calculated of course, but he’s played this game enough times to know how to fake honesty.

You study him for a moment before turning away, exhaling in what he’s almost positive is a laugh. “Now I know you’re lying. Next time put your glasses on first, your eyes give you away.”

The two of you slow as you approach your dormitory. Your calmness is throwing him off; this isn’t how things are supposed to go. He slips his glasses back over his eyes as the streetlights become more frequent.

“So, what?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. “You think I’m telling you this because I have ulterior motives?”

“Something like that.” Stopping in front of the building, you turn to face him. “Not that I mind. Ulterior motives or not, you stayed late to help me study and I’m grateful for that. I can put up with some flirting if it means you’ll keep helping me, just don’t expect me to reciprocate.”

“And what if I’m being honest?”

“Then I’d tell you not to get your hopes up,” you say, starting up the steps. “Thanks for walking with me— I’ll see you around.”

Gojo waits a moment, watching as you scan your ID and pull open the door. He’s not sure whether or not to count your conversation as a win, still mulling it over as he sets off for his apartment. You’re definitely on to him, but at the same time you don’t seem to mind his advances. There’s only one thing that he’s 100% certain of: that he has a lot of questions for Suguru.

[onionsoop]

scaramouche drabble; tw smut, spanking, power imbalance, gn!reader MDNI

Prince au or like if he swapped childhoods with Diluc Scaramouche where reader works as a maid for his estate 🤔

He would be known throughout the manor and the Fatui as a particularly strict and unforgiving ruler. The general consensus was that he had grown up spoiled, getting anything he wanted from his mother Ei and he hadn't grown out of it in adulthood.

When you joined his staff as a maid, he became very demanding of you, making sure you were always somewhere in the house near his office, that you were always the one on turndown service for his bedroom, and that you were always the person who cleaned the lower shelves where your ass was exposed to him whenever he watched you. It felt like you never spent any time away from him. At the start, any time you messed up on something, he would grab your chin and force you to look at him, or pin you against the wall so he would watch you tremble under his gaze. Before long he would be unable to resist making your punishments more severe and ultimately more physical. He would bend you over his desk and spank you, reprimanding you for how you never seemed to learn how to clean any better. He would make sure you would spend extra time in his office during laundry hours so you wouldn't have time to wash your clothes and he could watch you come in the next day with no undergarments.

This cycle of punishment would continue over and over until it ended up with you being impaled on his cock at least once a day while he was doing paperwork. He would never admit that he liked fucking you, it was always because you were a horrible maid and needed to be taught a lesson, but you suspected that wasn't the case. There were times when you had cleaned his office so diligently that he couldn't even find something tangible to complain about, but it would still result with you in his lap, moaning as he fucked you senseless, because "You could have done it faster."

It's not like you minded being your master's favorite though, after some time he became slightly more caring, letting you spend the night in his bed instead of making you go back to your own. He eventually let you move your clothing into one of the empty closets in his room, and he made sure to order two breakfasts any time you woke up with him. If questioned about this newfound kindness though, he would always snap back to his rhetoric about how "It was for your own good," but the flustered expression didn't help much with disguising his true feelings.

[spideyhexx]

THE NOTES HE DROPS OFF HAVE THE SMILY FACES IN RHE CORNER STILL 😭😭😭😭😭

YEAH and he has all these little margin notes like filling you in on stuff that doesn’t matter but he was thinking like, ‘oh maybe she’d get a kick out of this.’

[ikemenomegas]

so since you said before in a previous post that satoru is basically always possessive and is the most jealous person and in another post, he'd act clingy towards you in public or something along those lines, when he feels jealous. say, he's around his students and sees someone persistently flirting with his alpha, would he show his jealousy in that moment or would he wait for a more private moment?

Gojo gets a little more reasonable as he gets older so that's at least one thing in your favor😅. Yeah, his life of entitlement makes him jealous and possessive and he has a terrible sense of "personal boundaries" because his are always up. So even though it's really not socially acceptable, he will get in your and anyone else's space if he wants to or feels the need.

When the situation allows, Satoru will indulge in a playful expression of his inclination to jealousy and possessiveness. However, the question you ask is pretty broad...

If it's just some stranger and you don't realize this other person is flirting, having the students around to witness Satoru's moods only holds him back or changes the way he's going to expresses his feelings, it wouldn't stop him as long as it's not deadly serious. (... look at the very cringe worthy violin teacher bit)

If it's something a little more uncomfortable, like you know this stranger is flirting and can't get away from it, Satoru has no issue being rude to people in public and the students know he's like this, so he'll steer you away or casually guide an encumbrance into the way so you have an opening to leave. (He would call you from across the street and be obvious about it haha). He might bribe or convince the students to help stage a distraction/intervention. He once sent a very young Megumi to pose as your implied son and fetch you back.

If it's necessary for you to talk to this person, maybe for business purposes, and he realizes they're flirting, he will wait until you get what you came for or let you deal with it yourself. If he's hurt at all by your inability or unwillingness to stop this person from flirting with you but is in a delicate situation, he will wait until you get home to maybe go a little feral. He dislikes that he wants the reassurance, but he is more likely to want it. If he can though, he'll melt and pout all over you right away and you should take him out for a quick ice cream or dinner.

If it's another sorcerer and tied in with clan politics, that's where Satoru is really good at walking a line where he can say something that looks normal written down, but everyone in the vicinity understands that this is Gojo-sama, the Six-Eyes user, the strongest sorcerer, and you do not lay hands or eyes on his mate, you do not assume that his having an alpha in any way changes his position in the clan structure, and you do not offer disrespect by association in approaching his alpha with an intention towards seduction.

Also, I feel like I'm not saying this well so I do want to clarify that (the way I try to write the typical au characters), Gojo doesn't act jealous or possessive because of a lack of trust or "ownership" in the objectifying sense. The more obnoxious part is that it's more about having your attention - if it's on someone else, it's not on him. He knows that alpha would not cheat on him, but he also has human emotions - he's just really bad at behaving in a socially acceptable manner about them. Admittedly, it never feels great when someone is implying that they could steal your partner.

Idk his "jealousy" is hard to explain because it doesn't come from a place of insecurity, it has nothing to do with a lack of trust, it has to do with Satoru being an unreasonable demigod who's used to acting on emotions in the moment when he can get away with it, but also because he knows you could walk away because he'd let you. That's one rule he's always subconsciously stuck to - he's not going to force you to stay. Yes, he's always had everything he can physically ask for, but Satoru has been forced into a lot of things his entire life.

He never outright manipulates anybody (in the way of setting up situations to back someone into a corner. If they let him know who they are, he's going to use that information but that's not as dark as it could get). He refuses to actually play politics in general. He's remarkably innocent in the way he relies on earnestness and the threat of potential obliteration as his tools to get things done, they're pretty honest all things considered.

So he's not going to blame or criticize, he's not going to yell or belittle or go all creepy possessive on you. His public persona makes it seem like he would do these things regardless of who's around, but we've seen repeatedly that Satoru is painfully, remarkably rational, almost to the point where he'll lay aside any personal feelings about a situation if it makes sense to do so. He acts out when he can, but it's seldom as chaotic as the higher ups seem to think it is. I guess what I'm saying is he's got boundaries and rules that he follows, it's just that the lines are so far away from what most people experience, this makes him look completely unhinged and he plays this up because when people expect unpredictability from him, it's so far played to his advantage.

[snorlaxlovesme]

y'know i was just thinking that in literally ep/chapter 1 it's established that Blair is a magical cat that has nine lives. and then after being "defeated" Blair continues to live with Maka and Soul and even accompanies them on several important mission, growing to truly love them. and she has all these extra lives to spare. hmm. why wasn't anything done with that

[milla984]

Lean on Me

Summary: Spencer is feeling under the weather and tooth-rotting fluff is the only thing I can think about

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: fluff

TW/CW: brief mention of Diana Reid’s illness, implied/referenced opioid addiction

Word Count: 1.6k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved 

The following work is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins CM Comfort Fic Challenge

You turned the tv off and stretched your neck, muffling a yawn with the back of your hand. The cadenced tapping of light raindrops on the window echoed in the living room and you could hear the distant splashing of wheels, together with the occasional sirens and honking in the streets.

Spencer had been fast asleep on the opposite corner of his couch for almost an hour, his chest rising at a regular pace. Six days without seeing each other and all he’d seemed interested in was having dinner and watching Doctor Who at a reasonable distance from you, ruling out any possibility of physical interaction.

Sometimes you got worried that you two becoming an item forced him to de-prioritize his needs in order to favor your own, when the only thing he craved after a long and stressful week at work was to be left alone, surrounded by his books; you pictured him rambling about random topics even in his dreams and waking him up was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Spencer… I think you should go to bed,” you whispered.

He rubbed his eyes and straightened himself up to check the wristwatch he wore over the left sleeve. “So soon? We’re not even halfway through the serial.”

“Sorry to break it to you but you missed everything after the first episode. You were basically snoring,” you informed him as you tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.

Spencer’s mouth turned into a perfect round shape once the realization sank in. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh no, you would never do that to Tom Baker,” you smiled.

Drowsy Dr. Reid was one of the cutest things you’d ever seen, though you caught a sudden grimace on his face. “What’s wrong?”

His temples were beaded with tiny droplets of sweat, a detail you hadn’t noticed before because of the dimmed lights; Spencer winced and wrinkled his nose, as he often did to express various degrees of discomfort. “I’m fine.”

“You’re paler than usual. Are you sure you’re not running a fever?”

“It’s nothing serious,” he answered in a rush while he jumped to his feet to avoid you touching his forehead, only to shrug a few seconds later as a silent confession he wasn’t fine at all.

“Nothing serious, uh-huh… interesting choice of words for a genius who can drop ‘sesquipedalian’ in a casual conversation ”

Spencer gave you an enthusiastic look. “Have you ever thought about the fact that ‘sesquipedalian’ is inherently sesquipedalian? It’s kinda funny,” he laughed nervously, but at the sight of your eyebrow raised in a disapproving frown he sighed.

“I’m incredibly tired and my head hurts. It’s a physiological effect caused by the release of cytokines, a category of small proteins involved in the promotion of the inflammatory response. A textbook example of a rhinovirus infection.”

All the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place and you stood up to tug at the unbuttoned bands of his knitted cardigan. “Is that why you’ve been acting all distant tonight?”

“I should have canceled our plans,” he nodded, making his curls bounce in the process, “when I realized I was coming down with a cold I—”

His skin felt slightly hot when you locked your fingers behind his neck. “Maybe this can help you feel a little bit better.”

You pressed your body against his while you rubbed the tip of your noses together, waiting for him to wrap his arms around your waist; when you pulled him closer he welcomed your kiss with an ecstatic moan, even though he sighed soon after in a non-verbal attempt to manifest some concern.

“Not to put a damper on this moment but person-to-person contact is such a bad idea,” he pointed out in a soft tone, still holding you tight.

“What happened to ‘safer than a handshake’?” you joked while his stubble tickled your cheek, and it was his turn to raise his eyebrows in disapproval.

“It’s not if I’m sick!”

“Then I want you to go to bed. Now,” you replied.

You didn’t require advanced profiling skills to tell that expert in all-things nerdy Spencer Reid falling asleep in front of his favorite Doctor was the perfect indication he was literally exhausted, yet he shook his head again.

“When I was a kid my mom tucked me in and let me watch my favorite movie if I wasn’t feeling well,” he mumbled, “but after she started having her episodes more and more often I…” he paused and lowered his head - the weight of those memories still heavy on his heart. Despite his height he always appeared tiny and vulnerable at the mere mention of his mother’s illness.

“I was always afraid something bad would happen if I slept too much.”

You squeezed him so hard the buckle of his belt hurt your belly and you nipped at his neck, your own personal fight or flight response to any situation involving his family issues; he’d grown so used to his position as a caregiver for Diana he struggled to accept the idea she wasn’t the only one who deserved to feel protected and cared for.

“How about I stay a little longer? I’ll make you a cup of tea,” you proposed, and he looked at you flashing his best doe-eyed, innocent stare.

“With honey?”

You would have served him tea with a cupcake made of moonbeams and sprinkled with starlight, if it were possible; you kissed him a second time, which prompted him to giggle before he reluctantly let go of you.

You walked into the kitchen and filled a small pot with water, then you prepared a mug on the kitchen counter dropping a rustic-looking muslin bag inside. Bless Penelope and her latest birthday present - a square tin box decorated with vintage-style flowers and filled to the brim with a blend of green tea, cocoa bean husks, spices and vanilla. 

She would have never admitted the tea was a bland attempt to reduce Spencer’s daily caffeine intake, claiming the pièce de résistance was the very Garcia-ish container, and you were glad she was the sweetest, bubbliest and smartest best friend he could have ever hoped for.

“You haven’t changed your mind about Ten, right?” Spencer’s voice echoed through the walls and you let out an outraged gasp.

“I hope that wasn’t an honest question,” you shrieked while you scooped a generous amount of honey out of the jar. “He’s the best. End of discussion.”    

The two of you had been arguing for months about each other’s preferences and all the same he was still clueless as to why you were such a fan of the tenth incarnation in particular. “I mean, it’s just… what is it about him, exactly?! He—”

“He’s very smart and funny, wears glasses and Converse are his trademark?” you completed his sentence coming back into the living room and he began fiddling with the remote, a perplexed expression on his face. Running a fever was slowing down his reaction time, so you clarified. “I guess I have a type.”

Instead of coming up with a brilliant remark he pressed the play button, in a not so subtle attempt to hide the embarrassing rush of blood to his cheeks as you offered him the hot drink and sat beside him on the couch.

“Thanks,” he managed to say before he erupted into a bad coughing fit.

You stroked his back and waited for his breathing to return to normal; you refrained from suggesting over-the-counter or prescribed medications as a helpful remedy to get temporary relief, due to the percentage of alcohol and codeine contained in a good number of cold syrups.

“Sounds like you’re getting worse.”  

He carefully sipped his tea. “Common cold symptoms last for five days, on average. I’ll be okay, I don’t want you to worry,” he said and raised his wonderful hazel eyes to stare right into your soul.

“I’m not worried, I am…” you faltered, unable to hide the truth from him, “... reasonably anxious?!”

You bit your lips when Spencer caressed your knee, fighting the strong desire to grab him by his tie and guide his mouth over yours. Luckily the DVD player came to the rescue and the famous music theme distracted you, while the main menu kept appearing on screen; you took the mug from him and put it on the coffee table, and once you got hold of the remote you patted on your legs.

He accepted your invitation to use them as a pillow, since there wasn’t one available, snuggling up against you - his back resting on your chest, his hand raised to support his chin. You scrolled through the title list and even if you couldn't really see him you knew he was smiling, because he had indeed switched the previous disk with another one.

You selected the first episode and let your fingertips play with Spencer’s tousled curls, revelling for a few seconds in the thought of ripping his clothes off to commit unmentionable acts of sinful nature; by the time the Adipose mothership arrived on Earth he was out, and you resigned yourself to a restless night in the company of the Tenth Doctor.

You envied people who could fall asleep effortlessly even if they were miles away from home. As a creature of habit you found the smallest changes to be upsetting, and staying at a friend’s place or a hotel for you often translated into hours of tossing and turning.

Nevertheless (and much to your surprise) a new sense of security came from the body weight and warmth of the man you were cradling in your lap: the semi-darkness in his apartment made it resemble a painting by Wilfred Jenkins, and before you drifted into a serene slumber you realized that the overall atmosphere felt soothing and intimate.

And that you were irremediably in love with Spencer Reid.

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

»—— Gifset Masterlist link in my bio ——«

[doetic]

There's Doodles of Rams in the Margins? (Jschlatt x Reader) - UPCOMING

As a perpetually single relationship columnist living in 21st century Los Angeles where romance seems to be dead and gone, you've always found yourself unable to fully let your guard down around men and believe in love. This trait of yours only grew to be further justified after your lifelong best friend and roommate Shae dragged you along with to an influencer party, resulting in you butting heads with a man known as Jschlatt. Seeming to embody everything you hate about men and social media stars, your prejudice against him and his insufferable pride clash at every given moment. You would love nothing more than to rid your life of him forever. However, much to your chagrin, fate seems intent on keeping the two of you as close together as possible -- LA rent isn't cheap. With Shae's long time plan to move in with Ted and the great difficulties that come with finding a roommate as a mostly-friendless recent immigrant, you'd be a fool not mutually benefit from letting the wealthy man experiencing housing issues stay with you short term. It's not like it'll mean anything, it's just for a few months. Your disdain for each other is mutual anyways, right?

Inspired by Pride and Prejudice (book, movie, and BBC adaptation since I'm obsessed with all), the modern P&P adaptation Bridget Jones' Diary, and hints of Sex and the City.

Main Cast (so far):

Other people will make appearances, this is just the main cast. Other sisters, Mr. Collins, and Lady de Bourgh removed for ease of writing and inability to cast them well without having many oc's.

Y/n -> Elizabeth Bennet

Shae -> Jane Bennet

Jschlatt -> Mr. Darcy

Ted Nivison -> Mr. Bingley

Hasan -> Mr. Wickham (adjacent)

Slimecicle -> (bestie version of) Georgiana Darcy

Let me know if you'd like to join the taglist!

[greenerteacups]

Did Narcissa have a miscarriage, or lost a baby that was a girl ?

I'm re-reading year one and two, and these two excerpts that stands out to me.

“Five years in Azkaban, five years, I was alone with my boy… a one-year-old boy. And when he came back, he didn’t want… wouldn’t allow… it wasn’t safe, he said, not for a daughter, a lovely little girl for the whole world to hate…” She turned her head into Draco’s chest, and wept.

and this one in the summer between year one and two

For some reason, she took particular delight in Pansy. There was something about having a girl around the house, he supposed, that created a feeling of instinctive allegiance and understanding between them, and she had delighted in taking Pansy shopping at the local markets. They gossiped and drank coffee (that Pansy wasn’t supposed to have) and chatted about whatever the hell women did in pairs, and Narcissa spent unholy quantities of Draco’s inheritance on fine silks and trinkets and bottles of wine for Pansy’s parents, with whom she had exchanged almost a dozen letters before Pansy was allowed to come.

perhaps I'm grasping at straws here, but number one, if Narcissa got pregnant again then she cannot choose if she'd have a boy or a girl. Second her treatment of Pansy could be a sort of wish fulfillment, but I wonder if there is another reason for. Maybe a bit more tragic reason.

I mean, I can say that it's definitely canonical Narcissa wanted a daughter, cf. the chapter "Narcissa," but as for anything else — who am I to tell you? The only power I have to say what the story means is what I've written and what I'll write in the text of the fic. Beyond that, what happens in between the lines is your call as much as it is mine.

[junowritings]

Baldur gate matchups :0000000000

Cool nouns: he/she

Gender pref: no pref :0

Zodiac: Aries sun, Leo moon, libra rising

MBTI: intj-a

How I describe myself: huge nerd, collector of stupid shit, I am both the golden retriever boyfriend and goth girlfriend in one genderless human shaped mass. Girl kisser and dilf enjoyer (deadass men my age freak me out a little but…. dilfs….. explodes)

Hobbies: Digital art, web design, cooking, video games, reading,

How other people describe me (/pos):

- “you feel act like the embodiment of a mango monster”

- “The fact that of all of us (in reference to the polycule) you don’t have an autisim diagnosis is more of a jumpscare than you being ginger”

- “You could tell me the sky is hot pink and if you said it with the same conviction you say most things I’d trust you completely on it.”

Character flaws? Idk how to phrase this without it reading as self deprecating- issues I know I have that would inevitably be relevant to knowing me.

- I lack both empathy and sympathy almost completely, which makes me absolutely horrid at comforting people unless they want practical, logic driven solutions.

- I have a bad habit of seeing my solutions as the only viable solution, even if it’s been proven to be wrong/ineffective

- I can be incredibly arrogant (bordering on elitist) about the topics I am passionate about

- I form strong opinions of people quickly, and they are extremely difficult to shake (a bad first impression with me usually ends in a distain so strong I inconvenience myself to avoid said person, and it’s just as hard to convince me someone I like has done something wrong without extremely concrete proof, and even then I’m inclined to forgive them.)

Love language: gifts!! Usually art, or trinkets and cooking.

Miscellaneous and potentially unnecessary facts about me:

- I really like terraria

- I’m allergic to sunlight (literally)

- My bed is more categorically akin to a nest

- I’m completely nocturnal (re: sunlight)

- I’m also allergic to gluten, milk, eggs, pollen, grass, mold, citrus, red meat, cats, and dogs.

- My cats name is Fortnite Battlepass

- One of the name ideas for him was Dollarama

- I own a student grade microscope

- My favourite passtime is drawing pathetic men happy and in love

- I have Gale’s orb scar as a tattoo

Uhhhhh that’s it :0 if there’s anything specific you wanna know (or if you want pictures of my cat and/or tattoo) you’re more than welcome to ask!!

Match up time! Gotta say Fortnite Battlepass is adorable and only cemented who I decided to go with in the end! Which is,,,

So get this, two nerdy golden retriever partners walk into a tavern-

Okay but seriously, is it any wonder that Gale ends up so absolutely taken with you? 

The moment he sees your collection Gale wants to hear about it. There’s nothing quite like amassing a collection of things that bring you joy and make you happy, and he’ll gladly listen to you ramble about it if you’re comfortable to - where you got them, how long you’ve been collecting, what’s the most treasured part of your collection. These are just some of the things he’d query you on, all the while taking the time to admire your collection if you have it on display or bring it out to show him. 

He's actually got a fair collection himself, though his penchant for magical item consumption may have dwindled his display far more than he would have liked - alas desperate times had called for desperate measures back then. It’s honestly very validating to have someone show that kind of interest; though thanks to his curious nature you two may be stuck in this discussion for a couple of hours. It’s fascinating though! So who can really blame the guy? 

Will actively add to the stuff you collect so get ready to expand the space for them; one of his love languages is gift giving - so if that means getting you some of the weirdest stuff you’ve ever seen for your collection just to make you smile? By the gods he’d gift you something every other day if he could - thankfully Tara’s quick to curb that before he gets over excited and offers to refurbish an entire room in his tower back home for your stuff.

I don’t know if Gale would technically count as a dilf, being on the middle/younger side of the dilf scale (I hc like mid 30’s.) BUT he’s got the soft dad bod, bad puns, a couple grey streaks AND Tara so in my heart I would say this man is on the road to qualify.

Gale would be fascinated to see you at your computer, be it creating art or working on the code for your web pages. You’re practically working a magic of your own on your computer screen, confident in your ability to create and finishing off every piece you create with a level of detail and care that he’s sure very few people can even begin to replicate. And gods if there isn’t anything more attractive to him than someone who knows their craft and is passionate about it.

I hope you’re prepared for an audience because Gale will watch you work, leaning against the back of your chair with his head upon yours or your shoulder the whole time. You’ll have to warn him a couple times not to get too close to the screen because if he gets any closer you’re gonna struggle to see what you’re doing. When it comes to your web page designing, he would try and take up learning from you if you ever offer to teach him some basics - Gale would jump at the chance, actually. The guy’s a dream to teach, but also has a tendency to ramble as he tries to figure out whatever you’re trying to teach him. He also has a bad habit of getting overconfident, which when it comes to coding with him is a surefire way for the thing to blow up in his face (thankfully not literally.)

He absolutely LOVES cooking together. This man spent months being one of the only relatively decent cooks in the tadpole party so he’s got a decent list of recipes under his belt for each of their dietary requirements. Give him a couple times, let him learn what you can and can’t have and what foods you prefer, and he’ll make something pleasantly edible - not always perfect, but damn if it isn’t tasty. May or may not have a mental list of your favourite meals that he’d remembered from passing conversations. He certainly doesn’t use this as a means to surprise you or impress you whenever he invites you over (of course he does). The pair of you might occasionally butt heads over who cooks since he has a tendency to hover around in the kitchen trying to do stuff even if he’s not the one cooking that time.

It’s no secret that Gale’s bread and butter is books and tomes of all design and creed - hells he has an entire section of his home dedicated to his collection. He’ll happily give you recommendations and gift you books that you’ve expressed interest in without a second thought; he’s just chuffed to have someone who shares in this kind of pastime! If you guys are together around the time he does return home, he’ll ask for your company to sort through all of his books together. Sure it may not be the most riveting activity unless you’re really interested in what secret books he’s had stashed in his shelves all of these years; but it means a lot to him to have you there with him the whole time as he (quite literally) rearranges his life now that he’s home. There are some books that while he’ll still keep, they’re better off somewhere else than the main room - like the tomes and scrolls and forgotten texts once dredged up in desperate pursuits better left in the past. He’ll gladly let you fill in those gaps with books of your own, to create a space in his home that’s full of you - he can think of nothing better that would occupy that space than you.

Okay, so that one comment about the sky? Yeah, that’s Gale. While Gale’s not the kind of person to go blindly trusting everything someone says, there’s that conviction in the way that you say things that somehow makes him fall for it every time. If you ever did turn around and tell him that the sky was hot pink it’d earn you an amused snort and a sarcastic ‘haha very funny’ as he looks up from whatever he’s doing. But you’re the one who gets the last laugh because he’s the one casting a ‘subtle’ glance towards the window not even a minute later, only to be met with your knowing grin the moment he turns back. Just don’t let the others know that you’ve got that kinda one up on him, because I’m telling you now - Astarion and Shadowheart? Yeah they’ll be insisting to know how you get that kinda conviction to use on the poor man later.

While I can see Gale as the comforting type when the circumstances require, I also believe that having a partner like you who can ground him back to reality with logical solutions and practical reasoning is exactly what he needs. It’s so easy for him to get lost within the confines of his own thoughts, to allow things to become too much of a mess for him to pick apart and deal with on his own. But you’re a welcome hand, there to unravel the threads pulling taught on his mind with discussions of solutions and things that he can put into action in the here and now. That is comfort in its own way, even if you may not realise it.

As previously stated gift giving is one of Gale’s love languages, so given that you’re very much the same, that idea of making a room in his house just for you may not be such a far fetched idea anymore. His gifts centre around your current interests and fixations - he’s got a good ear for listening out to find what you need and get what makes you happiest. Expect more than a few magical items though - protective accessories for when he’s not at your side, or even items with silly magical effects that he knows will get a chuckle out of you once you realise what they do. Gets flustered under the same treatment however - your gifts are precious, and he feels like no matter where he puts them there’s not a good enough place to show them off and admire them. Always gets this lovestruck little look on his face each time he passes by one of your gifts in the day to day, running his hands along them like the mere touch of them is enough to brighten his very soul.

Hope there’s room enough in that nest for two because Gale doesn’t mind in the slightest. But he will help you to make it more comfortable - comfier blankets, softer pillows for extra cushion; this man spent at least a couple years falling asleep in places around his home that weren’t his bed so he knows the importance of making it as comfortable a place as possible for you (and his joints).

Comes as no surprise that he LOVES your cat, and it’s also no surprise that he’ll spoil the guy as much as humanly possible. Fortnite Battlepass quickly becomes one of the most pampered cats this side of Faerun, not just because of all the treats Gale likes to think he’s being sneaky about giving him, but because of the fact his tower is a cat paradise. Not to mention that cats usually warm up to Gale very quickly - guy’s a magnet because more often than not you’ll find Gale in the middle of work with Fortnite Battlepass flopped across his lap or desk, or lounging over his shoulder like a purring slinky.

The first time he sees your tattoo you can see several stages of panic go through his face in an attempt to remain calm about the situation. He visibly relaxes when you explain, no, it’s not actually an orb scar but a tattoo. Very much a ‘same hat’ moment for your tattoo and his own scar. Depending on where the tattoo is and if you’re comfortable with it, you may find him occasionally brushing his fingers over your tattoo, calloused fingertips following the inky tendrils that curl away from the main circle in the centre. Please do the same with his scar, you’ll basically turn the man to mush in your hands seeing you pay any kind of love and attention to a mark which once caused him such pain.

[ikemenomegas]

There's something fun and freeing about Fukuzawa, he's so happy childfree (plus one adopted feral genius, didn't come from his body, and one adopted menacing physician that also didn't come from his body and is occasionally more like a strange niece). He has no regrets about it and he got mated quite late in life so he'd already decided he wasn't worrying about having pups

[hopecomesbacktolife]

I’m not going to reblog the post itself because I don’t want that behavior on my blog, but oh my god I just saw a post about “looking for fics about your favorite character on ao3” and good lord the amount of bad takes both in that post and in the notes?? I have to just ramble about this for a moment because oh my god. it was ludicrous.

people were complaining that, and get this, unfinished fics exist. and that if you read an unfinished fic you’ll have to, get this, wait to read more until it’s published next. they were allll up in arms that there’s fics for a character that don’t cater to their specific interests. that they involve other characters and either do/don’t put them in a romantic relationship when they want the opposite for the character.

like at this point, most of you people in the notes on that post are 1) just being mean and condescending about FREE WORKS you can, may I remind you, READ FOR FREE and EXIT at ANY time! if you don’t like it!, don’t read it!, it’s so simple!, and 2) straight up do not know how ao3 works lmao

like I saw soooo many people in the notes complaining about a certain ship, dynamic, tag, etc, and like… y’all know you can filter by romantic vs platonic pairings, by ratings, by excluding certain tags or other qualifiers, etc etc etc… you know about ao3’s actually incredibly usable filtering and searching system… right… right??

at this point I’m just convinced a lot of these people are spoiled by large fandoms with 100k+ works for their characters and have decided to just be mean and condescending for no reason on main, about literally free fan works you can read for free any time that people spend hours and hours pouring their free time into out of sheer love for their craft. cuckoo bananas behavior if you ask me 🫠

I was legit so close to commenting that maybe they should try shipping two characters with <10 fics, with 0 fics, try liking a rare pair, try hyperfocusing on a character or niche type of fandom with a tiny but lovely circle of fans, and stop treating fan works and fic as Content TM that they deserve to have handed to them that caters to exactly what they want for free and maybe they’ll calm down lmao

like y’all aren’t cool you’re just being mean. we fundamentally approach fic in wildly different ways and honestly the way you do sounds exhausting. literally could not be me, I’m to busy finding joy in shared love for characters and not flipping the table in a rage because there’s one (1) element of the fic that isn’t specifically catered to me, maybe try that and you’ll feel better, hmm?

and yeah I’m aware that last sentence is me being condescending towards them, but frankly it’s warranted when so many people are being that mean and haughty for no reason lmao but truly those takes were horrific. fellow fic writers and even fellow fic readers I interact with, am mutuals with, authors whose works I read, readers who comment and interact with my works, fans of niche fandom subsets that run in the same circles as me— I hope you know this is so wildly not how I approach fics, I love just finding fics for my characters and forming these lil communities where we share our interests and love for them and hype each other up. I love what we have in these fandom niches and I hope you know I would never dream of being so mean and condescending towards y’all. fic writers and readers and fan communities are so special and I cherish it even if clearly there’s people in the notes on that other post who don’t know how to do that lmao. I love your unfinished WIPs, I love your fics that may only partially be what I’m looking for, I love when you write characters in a way I wouldn’t expect but shows your love for your particular headcanon, I love the variety and diversity and variance in fic. I love us. genuinely. fic writer moots I am hugging all of you and I frequently reread your works, even the unfinished ones. ♡

[evelhak]

The feeling when you're a fantasy author and dip your toes into realistic fiction for one book, telling everyone how it's just an "affair" for you, and then that book sells the most, gets the most reviews and is your only book to reach the mildest national recognition, is like... I understand the tiniest most insignificant drop of what sir Arthur Conan Doyle must have felt.