#but the family units they actually live with matter more so that’s where my thoughts lie

[fishyartist]

Tumblrina 2 me btw. Would ride up and say some shit like “I’m not trans but I believe in their beliefs” or maybe say some shit about leaving to “steal some shoelaces” then kicking Joe Biden in the sack or something

[aliteralsemicolon]

Wait until you like me again - 18+

See part 1 | Part 2 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 3

The decision to resign puts a lot of weight on your shoulders. A takedown gone wrong makes it the least of anyone's concerns, especially Spencer’s. You’re not willing to let him back in; it feels too little, too late.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. Part 2 was highly requested and I’m sorry it’s taken so long to finish.

WARNING Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, drugs (GHB), Case details (very poorly thought out). Violence: canon typical - strangulation, drugging, guns/gunshots. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

The most annoying part about making a decision in haste is the clarity of the situation when the dust settles. It’d taken Hotch just over two minutes to message you after you’d sent your email. 

From: Boss Man 🕶 👔 My office, first thing tomorrow. 

You didn’t take into account that you’d have to explain your sudden resignation to your unit chief, or that you’d need to think of a good enough goodbye to lessen the hurt of abandoning your friends. These are people you consider your found family; you’re leaving behind years worth of bonds with no proper warning or closure, in a measly few weeks. Your reasoning had to be good enough to convince them that this was for the best. 

To convince you that this was for the best. 

You’d spent the whole night in tears, racking your brain for an excuse, because ‘the person you care most about in this world and unrequited love of your life telling you that he didn’t want to see your face was a pathetic reason for discarding your life’s work. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t think of adequate justification. Even as the sun rose and you made your way through your pre-work routine, nothing came to mind. 

“You can’t love me.”

Any time you tried to conjure up a defence your thoughts would wander back to Spencer. Too many words had been exchanged between you and your former best friend in the span of four months and not a single one of them properly explained why he was so butt-hurt. He loves you too much, but doesn’t want you to love him? That’s your understanding, at least. 

“Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

Since you’d left his apartment the previous night, you’d been cycling through all the stages of grief in record time. Spencer once told you that people tend to remember more negative memories than positive. He was right. You couldn’t recall a lot of your happier memories with him. All you could think about was the two conversations where he’d hurt you in ways you never imagined he would. 

You’re not sure exactly what part of you snapped at that moment, all you knew was that you were done making him the centre of your universe. Spencer Reid played no part in your decisions moving forward. He was not the reason for your departure with the BAU, a lie you made sure to relay to Hotch during your meeting with him.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. Where is this even coming from?” He inquired from across you, hands folded neatly against his desk.

“I just think it’s time for me to try new things, you know?” It was a pathetic excuse, but less pathetic than the actual reasoning. 

“I try not to interfere with the personal lives of the team, but this is just so…sudden. I have to wonder if this has to do with Spencer?”

“This has nothing to do with him.” You go out of your way to avoid saying his name, suspecting you might taste poison. 

Hotch’s brow raises, as if his brain has been alerted to key information, head marginally tilting to the side like it does when he catches a lie. He doesn’t say anything, eyes narrowing in on you in stoic fashion. You feel like a petulant child that’s about to receive a scolding from their father. 

“Hon–Honestly…Hotch, I just–”

Three rapid knocks cut you off, the door to the office swinging open without waiting for a reply. 

“Sir, Hello, I’m sorry to interrupt but it’s an emergency. That case we were consulting on for Anchorage PD?” Garcia bursts into the room, slightly discoloured and more panicked than normal. “Well, five more bodies were discovered. Two of them pre-date who we initially thought was the first victim.”

“Garcia, tell everybody to meet on the jet ASAP. We’ll debrief on the flight.” Hotch orders abruptly standing from his seat. “You and I can finish this meeting later. This case is now our top priority, wheels up.” 

Emily, Rossi and Derek were already in their seats when you boarded. You secured your go bag in one of the overhead compartments and temporarily took a seat next to Derek. 

“How bad do you think this one is gonna be?” Derek sighs, dreading the horrors that await your arrival. 

“We’re up to thirty six bodies and counting. Whoever this unsub is, they’ve been at it a while. So, bad.” You answer honestly. 

“Speaking of bad, is everything okay?”

“That was not even remotely smooth.” You scoff. 

“I’m just asking as a concerned friend.” He shoots his hands up in defence.

“What happened to the days where we at least tried to mind our business. You know, at least asked each other about our weekend plans before jumping into interrogation mode.” You roll your eyes and smirk. 

“Heyyy, woah– no one’s interrogating anyone.” Derek chuckles. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

It wasn’t long before everybody had made their way on the jet, Spencer being the last one. You didn’t notice his arrival, too engulfed in your conversation. He definitely noticed you though. The sound of your giggles caught his attention the second he was in ear shot. He didn’t like how warm he felt at the sight of your smiling face. What he disliked more was that he could instantly tell that it wasn’t a genuine smile. 

He quietly made his way to his self assigned seat on the couch, trying his hardest to focus on anything but you. Every laugh that Morgan coaxed out of you bothered him. Spencer’s agony only ended once the jet had successfully taken off. 

“Alright let’s get started.” Hotch declared and everybody moved to gather around. 

With all the details laid out by Garcia through the monitor, everybody began stating facts and suggestions. You wrapped up soon enough and retreated to an isolated seat in the back of the jet. It was an almost eight hour flight, seven of which you were planning to use to come up with a solid plan to announce your departure. Life always has to throw a wrench in your plans though, because the lack of sleep from the night before caught up to you and you dozed off almost immediately. Had you any energy left in your body, you might have been privy to the eyes that were on you. 

“She didn’t say anything as to what the meeting was about?” JJ hushedly pries from her raven haired co worker in the cramped kitchenette.  

“No, but Garcia said that ‘the air in his office was really tense’.” Emily relays, her fingers mimicking quotation marks. “Did Hotch say anything?”

“No. He just gave me his usual dry look and told me to focus on the case.” JJ rolls her eyes at the thought and leans back against the counter. 

Despite being the FBI’s most decorated task force, the agents of the BAU weren’t strangers to workplace gossip. You’d just entered the bullpen this morning when Hotch frantically summoned you to his office, not even giving you time to set your things down at your desk. Witnessing the events sparked a guessing game sparked amongst the team. 

“Is it something we should know about?” Sitting across from Hotch, even Rossi succumbed to his curiosity. 

“Dave you’re not normally one to pry.” Hotch smirks, keeping his eyes on the case-file laid out in front of him. 

“No I’m not. But with the events of the past few months...” Rossi sips his coffee, staring at his younger superior expectantly. “...there’s been some talk Aaron.”

“Talk?” Hotch meets Rossi’s eyes.

“Mhm.” Rossi nods. “Apparently you’re transferring one of our two youngest members because they haven’t been able to put their differences aside.”

“I’m not transferring anyone. Where did this come from?” The alarm in his tone makes Rossi snicker.

“Office drama. You know how it is. And while you may not be transferring anybody,” he sets his mug down and looks towards where you’re sound asleep. “I’m guessing somebody is leaving. Hence this morning's meeting.”

“We’re not supposed to profile each other, you know.” Hotch sighs. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep this contained. I haven’t had a chance to properly discuss this with her yet and I think she’d prefer to break the news herself.” 

As you had predicted the case was by no means an easy one. On the first day everybody was split into groups to follow up with the M.E, victims’ families and examine the crime scenes. All the evidence and information gathered wasn’t enough to narrow the profile any more than the generic: male, mid thirties to early forties, hates women. You were now three days in with no viable leads. 

You were especially frustrated because you felt that you weren’t working as well as you could. The stress of your announcement was taking its toll, you were unable to properly converse with your team out of guilt. Hotch sent everyone back to their hotel rooms with the idea that you would start fresh tomorrow. Normally you would room with Spencer, but lately JJ and Emily have been taking turns rooming with both of you. This time you were with Emily.

“I think this may be the first night we’ve gotten to turn in early.” Emily yawns as she dramatically stretches her limbs.

“I’m just glad we got to turn in at all, for a while there it looked like we may have to pull another all nighter.” You force a giggle, exasperated.  

“You okay?” She doesn’t miss a beat, taking the opportunity to ask about your uneasiness. 

“Yeah, fine.” You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“You’re going to snap at some point, you know?” She examines your closed off posture, trying to figure out a way to get you to open up. “Something’s clearly wrong. Talk to me.”

“We’re all on edge right now. It’s this case.” You hope that you’re being convincing enough. 

“It's more than that. You’ve been distant from everybody.” Emily briefly thought back to the Ian Doyle debacle, recognising all the signs of somebody preparing to run away at any given moment. 

“I’m aware that I’m not working to my full potential–”

“That’s not what I mean and you know that.” She steps closer to you. “I can’t force you to tell me whatever’s actually on your mind, but I would really appreciate it if you would. I hate seeing you so…detached. Not just from us, but from yourself.”

It’s the empathy in her voice instead of the usual sympathy that finally cracks you. Tears pool your eyes and you sink to the floor. Emily sits down next to you without a word. She tries to pull you in for a hug but you push away. 

“Please don’t.” You sob. “I’m sorry.”

She squeezes your knee to relay that she understands and retracts her hand. Your discomfort with physical touch was another thing you had in common with Spencer. It was just a personal preference for you, unlike his germophobia. He was the only person you were actually comfortable with in terms of touch, but you couldn’t fault others for not respecting that boundary when you’d never verbalised it. 

“I’ve been trying to figure out the right way to tell you guys, but I don’t think there’s any way this gets easier.” You recompose yourself after a moment. “I’m, um, leaving.”

You expect her to get upset with you, but find her unfazed. 

“You don’t look surprised.” 

“Well it’s not entirely surprising. I mean given everything that’s happened.” 

“So you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” She leans back with her mouth slightly open. 

“Because I feel like I’m abandoning you guys.” You heavily exhale. 

“You’re not abandoning us. You’re doing what you feel is right for you. I mean, am I happy about it? Definitely not. But I know better than anyone why you feel like you need to do this. And it’s not a decision you have to justify to anybody.” Emily reassures you. 

“How do I tell everybody else?” You push for more advice.

“However you feel most comfortable doing it. It doesn’t have to be some big announcement. You can casually break it to them whenever you get the opportunity. They’ll understand.” 

“Thank you, Em.” You genuinely smile this time, eternally grateful that she’s managed to take some pressure off your shoulders.

“Now while you’re in a mood to share…if you wanna talk about something else–” She attempts one last time to get you to talk about Spencer, sensing that the mood lightened a bit. 

“Nice try.” You laugh as you rise to your feet, offering your arms out to her to help her stand.

The following two days were a lot easier on you, mentally. You took Emily’s advice and disclosed your news individually to each team member, each of them more understanding than you’d anticipated. You were surprised to learn that Rossi was already aware, assuming that it came with being a profiler for as long as he had. Derek and JJ did try to talk you out of it initially, but accepted your decision in the end. You still had to talk about this with Garcia, but felt a lot more at ease with mostly everybody knowing.

Except Spencer.

That thought lingered in the back of your mind. You still love him, it’s not something you can just turn off. You shake it off and divert your full attention to the case. Four more bodies had been discovered and with them, a new pattern to the killings. The unsub was devolving. You and Spencer were the only ones at the precinct when the last murder was called in. Meaning you were stuck working on the geographical profile with him while the others were out chasing new leads. 

Realistically, only one of you was needed to build the profile and decided you were going to let him do it. You quietly sat in the furthest seat possible, trying to make yourself invisible and hoping that this would keep him busy enough to not talk to you. The whole week, you hadn’t uttered a single word to him unless it was absolutely necessary for the case. It was as if he didn’t exist, even if he was standing right infront of you. Spencer, on the other hand, spent the whole week prodding you for any reaction he could get. Anytime you made suggestions and he happened to be in the area, he tried to one up you.

At times it felt like he was purposely seeking you out, despite his brutal proclamation five days ago. Every attempt to rile you up failed. The most acknowledgement he got from you was a few scoffs and glares. He hadn’t even realised he was doing it, until Derek asked him point blank what his problem was. He didn’t have an answer, but now that he was aware of it he tried to go out of his way to avoid it. 

That didn’t last more than a few hours. The fact that he had to consciously avoid talking to you pissed him off, especially because he couldn’t stop. You pretending like he didn’t exist pissed him off even more. The one time he took his eyes off the board in front of him they landed on you. You were busy scribbling words in a file, trying to get a head start on your paperwork. 

“Do you plan to help at all?” He sneers, noticing that you looked a lot more relaxed than you did at the start of the case. 

You snap your head towards the board behind him. A rough venn diagram was drawn on a map of the city, small tacked notes labelling prominent buildings in the area. 

“How am I meant to help?” You question, darting your eyes between him and the board out of confusion.

“You’re asking me how to do your job?” He taunts, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.

You dramatically groan, throwing your head back. 

It’s hard to believe that he’s a man of logic in moments like these. There have been far too many in the last few months. You bounce off your seat and head over to the board. Spencer stays glued in his spot and your body accidentally brushes against his as you try to get past. He watches you take off some notes and add on new ones but doesn’t register what you’re doing at first. He’s too intoxicated by your scent. His hand runs through his hair as he steps back in an effort to regain his composure. His teeth grit and his jaw tenses momentarily, he hates that you have the ability to do this to him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” The pitch of his voice raises and his ears are burning.

“What do you mean?” You roll your eyes, shrugging your arms, sarcasm laced in your words. 

“Don’t try to act all dumb!” He berates, shaking his head. 

“Don’t try to act all smart.” Your eyes roll again. Spencer was slowly starting to wear down your apathy. 

“I am smart.” He scoffs. Your blood boils, this trump card is becoming too repetitive.

“Savour that, it’s the one good thing you’ve got going for you!” You finally snap. 

“You’re UNBELIEVABLE! The first time you bother to answer me all week and it’s just to argue?” He’s trying his best to refrain from yelling.

“Oh! You’ve been trying to start an argument all week and now that I’m giving in you can’t take it?! Actually, why have you been trying so hard, Doctor? I was under the impression that you can’t even stand to look at my face!”

He dryly swallows, unable to respond immediately. The reminder of his words makes him internally cringe. He never meant to say them. It was the most efficient way he could think of at that time to hurt you. Spencer hadn’t anticipated the sheer amount of will power it would take to stay away from you. You seeking him out made it infinitely harder. His fake disdain was a defence mechanism, he was hiding behind hatred to get the job done. 

“YOU–”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Hotch loudly cuts him off. 

Neither you nor Spencer noticed the teams return during your squabble. You’re slightly embarrassed, wondering how much they’ve witnessed. Spencer turns away from you and looks to the blank wall on the other side of the room. You look to the floor and bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Care to explain what’s going on?” He grills and you feel like a petulant child receiving a lecture from your father. 

“She wasn’t doing her job!” Spencer complains. “And when I brought it up she messed up my profile!”

“God you’re insufferable! It’s called ‘narrowing the profile’, Spencer. Maybe if you did it properly, I wouldn’t have to.” You retort. 

“Hey!” Hotch scolds.

It falls silent for a second, awkward glances finding their way around the room. Rossi breaks it first. 

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were bickering toddlers instead of FBI agents.”

You make eye contact with Morgan trying to hold in a laugh and it makes you snort. 

“We will discuss this later. Let’s focus on the updates we’ve gathered.” Hotch dismisses due to more pressing matters at hand. 

“After talking to friends of the latest victims, I can confirm that they were all last seen in the same club.” JJ pipes up first.

“And the dumpsites are all less than twenty minutes away from there. He’s definitely not holding them anymore.” Morgan adds.

“That has to be where he’s choosing his victims. Did the medical examiner find anything new?” Hotch asks.

“Traces of GHB.” Emily replies. “We don’t know how he’s administering it into their systems, but my guess would be through the drinks.”

“Gamma-hydroxybutyrate, mostly known as GHB, is a party drug that produces feelings of euphoria, confidence, relaxation and sociability. Side effects of GHB can include drowsiness, vomiting, mood swings, dependence, as well as more serious symptoms of unconsciousness. When mixed with alcohol the risk of overdose increases as it can cause respiratory collapse leading to coma or in extreme cases death.” Spencer’s about to continue but quickly recognises that it’s a tangent he needs to cut short. 

“Wait JJ what club were the victims last seen in?” You inquire, walking closer to the map.

When she relays the name it clicks. 

“That’s smack in the middle of the comfort zone.” You point at a small red note labelling the building. 

“So how do we catch this guy? I mean the club would be packed and we don’t know what this guy looks like. The profile tells us that he would blend in, nothing would stand out about him.” Morgan subtly suggests a string operation.

“Except for when he’s alone with the object of his rage. Which in our case would be the women he’s using as surrogates. He'd be possessive, become clingy, hold on too tight and once those advances are rejected he’d fly into blind rage.” Spencer exclaims without realising the weight of his input. 

“Yeah…but he has a very specific type.” Rossi hesitates. 

A fact that everybody had been avoiding the case because of how close it hit to home. 

You’re his exact type.

“No.” Hotch shuts down.

“Hotch, think about it. I mean this guy is not slowing down. A sting might be our best bet to stop him before he kills again.” JJ shares Rossi’s hesitation.

“It’s too risky!” Spencer blurts, making it clear he’s against the idea. 

Everyone begins to chime in with their input, but you stay silent and think it over. None of them wanted to put you in this position, but you’d seen the bodies and what he’d done to those women. What he’ll continue to do to other women if he isn’t stopped. It was a no brainer on your end. 

“I’ll do it!” You announce amidst the chatter.

It comes to an immediate halt, all eyes shifting on you.

“What?” Spencer scoffs.

You can tell that he’s genuinely surprised by the small hitch in his voice. Emily sceptically calls your name, posing it as a question. 

“I’ll do it.” You reiterate, taking care to seem as confident as possible.

“Absolutely not! The odds of this going wrong are way too high!” Spencer howls with a little too much passion. 

“Reid’s right. The unsub is way too unpredictable.” Hotch debates.

“JJ has a point, think about it!” You argue. “We know for a fact that he’s going to strike tonight. Sending me undercover as bait is better than staking out the place and waiting for him to target a civilian!” 

“Okay so let’s send somebody else!” Spencer contests, his tone prayerful. 

For a split second, you see your best friend again. He’s showing more regard for you now than he has in months and it makes your heart sink knowing it won’t be forever. Still, you try to reason with him while he’s there.

“There’s no time! I fit his type. This is our best option.”

“No, this is stupid and dangerous. You’re not going in there!” He’s gone again. 

“That’s not your call to make!” You snap. 

“Hotch no!” Spencer tries again.

“Kid, relax! This isn’t her first undercover mission.” Morgan attempts to calm Reid. “Plus we’ll all be there in case anything goes wrong.”

“Statistically–”

“For God’s sake forget the fucking statistics! People’s lives are at stake!” You loudly end his tangent before it can begin. 

“Alright, everybody calm down!” Hotch speaks up, making it a point to stare down Spencer. 

He’d made his decision and Spencer can only stare back in disbelief, too breathless to argue. 

‘Like Morgan said, we’ll be there watching over you, along with some local law enforcement. You won’t be wired, but we’ll have a fail safe just in case you need backup earlier than expected. We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s get to work.” The unit chief asserts. 

Before anyone can make any further moves, Spencer storms out of the room. JJ runs after him, assuring Hotch that she’ll take care of it. The rest of you break off to your assigned tasks, preparing for the operation that night. 

“Spence! Slow down!” She yells, chasing him all the way outside the precinct. 

He’s breathing too fast, practically on the edge of hyperventilating. He pushes his hair back with both of his hands, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. 

“Spence what the hell is going on with you?” JJ pants, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“Me?!” Spencer yanks himself away from her. “What the hell is going on with all of you?! You’re all insane for allowing her to do this!”

“She’s a grown woman and a trained agent! This is her decision. She knows what she’s getting herself into.” JJ reminds him. 

“Well it’s not a very smart decision! She shouldn’t be making decisions this…this reckless!” He shrieks. 

“Okay you need to calm down!” JJ sternly states. 

“Jennifer, do not tell me to calm down! She’s about to make herself a direct target for a psychopathic sadist and you’re all just letting it happen!”

“So what? Should we let some innocent woman become his next target?” 

“No! I’m not saying we should– just– why does it have to be her?!” The emphasis on his last word gives him away, JJ picks up on it instantly. 

“That’s what this is about? C’mon you know better than this.” She relaxes her shoulders. “Spencer, we all care about her. We all want her to be safe. And she will be as long as we separate out feelings from–”

“Feelings? This has nothing to do with how I feel–”

“Okay stop! Stop! God!” JJ huffs with pauses between her words. “I am so sick of this! This is clearly about your feelings. The past four months have all been about–”

She smacks her hands against her face as she takes a deep breath, a display of frustration. 

“Listen to me.” She commands, exhausted from the back and forth. “It’s clear that you two care deeply for each other, whether you’re willing to admit it or not. Neither of you will talk about whatever it is that’s caused this rift– fine! But don’t you think it’s time to bury the hatchet now that she’s leaving?”

Spencer freezes. 

“...Leaving?” He repeats, taken off guard. 

JJ takes a moment to read his expression. 

“She didn’t tell you?” JJ mutters, still scanning his face. 

“What– what are you…” He can’t find the words, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to process her words.

“She’s resigning, Spencer. She’s leaving the FBI.” JJ can’t hide how she’s surprised that you haven’t shared this with him. 

“No, that's not possible. She loves this job. Why would she leave?” Denial is his first response.

Spencer thinks over your possible motivations and can only land on the obvious. You’d only leave if you grew to hate the job. 

Did he do this? Did he make you hate it?

“We were all surprised when she first told us, I mean, it came out of nowhere.”

“We?” He rubs his temple, anticipating a possible migraine from the bomb that just dropped on him. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you guys known?” He balefully sighs, trying his hardest to not misplace his anger. 

“It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

He had no one to be angry at, but himself.

“A day? Maybe two? She told us individually. Honestly with this case I haven’t had time to wrap my head around it.” JJ honestly reveals. 

So not long. Maybe you were still making your way around to telling him? You wouldn’t just leave without so much as telling him, would you?

A few months ago, Spencer would’ve confidently answered no. Today he was sure that you would. He so badly hoped that he was wrong. 

“Spence, look, we can talk about this later. But right now, you need to make sure you’re able to stay objective. Can you do that?”

He nods relentlessly, tucking his hair behind his ears. A habit he adapted early in life. It was an indicator of the gears turning in his head. JJ gives him a few more minutes outside before guiding him back in to help with preparations. Spencer absentmindedly performed his tasks, but all he could think about was you. 

You’re leaving and he’s the only person you hadn’t disclosed this information to. Abandonment was a feeling he was all too used to, but he never imagined that you’d abandon him. He knows that he can only blame himself, but he still can’t help the irritation that’s creeping in his veins. 

Even as he straps up his hidden bullet proof vest hours later, he can’t push the sentiment away. You were setting yourself up as bait for one of the most dangerous types of serial killers. On top of purposely putting yourself in direct line danger, you were leaving without telling him. He would’ve showed up to work one day and you’d be gone.

Right now he stands just a few feet away from you and you don’t look toward him once. No one would be able to guess that you’re undercover. It’s amazing how you’ve managed to transform yourself from supervisory special agent to a regular socialite and party girl in a couple of hours.

If he could overcome the hurt he feels at the moment, he might see how breathtaking you look. Then again, you always appear breathtaking to him. Before he knows it, he’s walked right up to you. You don’t feel his presence looming behind you until you bump into him when you turn around. 

“Shit Spencer!” You jump, mostly because of the nerves from the upcoming night. 

He’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“Don’t start! I’m not in the mood.” You brush him off and disappear out of sight.

It was like that for much of the preparations. He’d muster the courage to try and talk to you, and you’d walk away. Much like how Spencer would avoid you when your friendship first fell apart. 

“Everybody in position?” Hotch inquires through his ear piece. 

“Affirmative.” Morgan gives the greenlight for your entry into the club. 

You made your way to the bar, making it a point to sit alone. You didn’t have to wait long. Archie Carter, 36, cheated on by his ex fiance before their wedding. She ran away with another man because Archie failed to keep his sadistic traits hidden and it scared her off. Torturing and murdering women who looked like her was his way of giving her a real reason to be scared. 

This was all information Garcia found after it was nearly too late. He’d managed to get you on the dance floor, subtly injecting you with the GHB. You didn’t even feel him do it. To everybody else it just seemed like you were playing your part really well on the dance floor, when in reality you were struggling to stand up. You couldn’t give out any signals and he was able to slip you away into the back alley under the noses of five FBI agents. 

It was Spencer who’d found you fighting for your life against Archie’s grip around your throat. Spencer, who put the bullet in Archie’s head after being unable to talk him down. Spencer who kneeled above you, begging you to come back as he began CPR. If he’d found you any later you might’ve been gone for good. 

Pissed was an understatement.

At the piece of shit that almost ripped you away from the world. At Hotch and the team for not listening. At himself for being right. Not you though, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t pissed at you. He was terrified. Both for you and for almost losing you. 

You had to stay a few extra days in Anchorage, bound to your hospital room. The team refused to fly back without you, each of them taking turns to keep you company. They all felt an immense amount of guilt but you reassured them that it wasn’t their fault. Your tongue grew tired of reminding them that this was a part of the job. Rossi joked that it was a good thing you were leaving it all behind in that case and it stung more than you were willing to admit. 

In your brush with death you came to the revelation that you didn’t want to leave, but hearing Spencer’s voice lull you back to him confirmed that you needed to. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear him talk everyday and not be the person he was talking to. It was why you had basically barred him from visiting you during your recovery there. Seeing his face was more than you could handle at the time. Not seeing yours weighed on him, because he needed to see if you were okay.

Physically, he knew you’d be fine once the doctors confirmed it. Mentally, he knew all too well of the repercussions that came with almost dying directly by the hands of an unsub. You’d been discharged and cleared fifty eight hours after you were admitted, and the team was ready to fly back a few hours later. All the signs of being less than okay were there. He recognised them as soon as he saw you board the jet. 

Besides the obvious bruises collaring your neck, there was some minor swelling that lingered. That wasn’t his biggest concern. It was the smile plastered on you when you put on your ‘I’m okay’ act for the others. Your eyes, like always, gave you away. You were already trying to sweep everything under the rug. Less than a few minutes after take off you isolated yourself in the back. You’d been doing that a lot in your recent cases. 

It irked him how everybody just let you. He decided right then that he wasn’t going to. He didn’t care how much you hate him, he was going to ensure that you came out of this truly okay. You were mindlessly staring out the window, counting the clouds, listening to the music playing through your headphones. You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. You’d felt like that since you came to, in the alley. 

It took you a second to understand that you were actually being watched, turning to find Spencer in the previously empty seat across from you. 

“You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on me.” You snark, ripping off your headphones, still recovering from the small jump scare.

“Sorry.” He chuckles out of habit.

You unintentionally smile at the sound and find yourself staring in his eyes. 

“Are–” He falters as he thinks the question over in his head. “Is there anything I can get you?”

You’re taken aback, not expecting those words. You had a script prepared to waive off questions about your well being. He knows you better than that, throwing you off course as usual.

“What do you want?” You grumble, accepting that you couldn’t get past him.

“I want to know if there’s anything I can get you.” He repeats in a low tone. 

There he is again. The Spencer you know and love. Your heart threatens to leap.

“If this is to clear some guilty conscience, don’t bother.” You verbally guard yourself. “I’m fine.”

It would be a lie if he said his reasoning was completely selfless. He was hardly able to keep away from you without feeling like he was drowning, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he thought he may have lost you forever. The feeling didn’t last very long, he was able to revive you within a few seconds, but never feeling like that again would be too soon. 

Spencer believed in two things; statistics and facts. One fact he refused to ignore any longer is that he couldn’t live without you. He quietly opened that satchel that still clung across his torso, fishing out some pain killers and an unopened water bottle. 

“I know you probably forgot to take yours out of your bag.” He ignores your previous comment and slides the items across the table to you. 

Your gaze lingers on the items in front of you, but your hands stay folded in your lap as you piece everything together. 

“You know.” You whisper. 

“Were you going to tell me?” He gulps after a beat of silence. 

“Does it matter?” You're quick to respond.

“I wanna hear it from you.” He’s just as fast. 

You look up from the leaf of pills, he’s already surveilling you. It’s a short lived staring contest because your focus shifts behind him to Hotch, who’s observing this encounter from the kitchenette on the other end. Spencer continues waiting on you for a response but you stand up, ready to walk away. It dawns on you when you see your supervisor that technically you hadn’t officially resigned yet. The paperwork never got started because this case took priority and that was a detail you needed to sort out right away.

“Don’t go.” Spencer pleads when you take your first step.

Was it a request to sit back down or to stay with the BAU? You didn’t bother to clarify, he had no right to ask for either. 

You let out a deep, exasperated sigh as you lie curled up in your warm sheet, scowling at the floor beneath you. It seemed that the universe (your friends) had it out to delay your departure as much as possible. It’s been four days since your return from Anchorage and you’ve been stuck in your apartment since Hotch dropped you off here. He’s ordered mandatory time off for your recovery, meaning the paperwork has to wait. 

You could be using this time in a more productive manner. You could be searching for a new job. And a new place to live. You should be trying to figure out where this new place would be. You never actually thought that far ahead. In your haste to run away, you forgot to plan your next steps. You’ve convinced yourself that you can’t do any of it until the forms are filled out. 

The ‘universe’ isn’t the only thing delaying you. 

If you really wanted to, you could have everything emailed to you. You can have it done online, but there are two major problems. The first is pretty straight forward; you’re not ready to leave. You know that this is the best course of action for everybody, but your brain and your heart are at an impasse. You’ve dedicated years to this job because you love this job. Unfortunately, you love Spencer more, which means that staying is going to drive you to hate your job. 

The other reason is slightly more nuanced and you don’t want to think about it, opting to let your impasse be the reason for your lack of motivation to do anything other than bed rotting. It’s not as bad as it seems, it’s more self care than anything. Your body’s telling you it needs to rest and you’re simply obliging. Plus, it couldn’t be that serious if you still had bursts when you had to keep up appearances. You have to be okay if you’re able to force yourself to open the front door for your coworkers when they come to check on you. You really weren’t that miserable if you managed to smile and laugh for their short visits. 

And it’s not like you’re truly rotting. You showered quite often, you actually just had your second one today. You were definitely okay if you could manage to keep up with hygiene. It’s not excessive, you need to scrub the purple away. You know that’s not how it works, but you can’t stand to look at the parts of your neck where his hands were wrapped around. If you close your eyes for long enough you can still feel him squeezing until–

You’re okay.

No, you’re irritated. The incessant knocking on your front door won’t stop no matter how much you ignore it. You were relieved when evening came. It meant that normal visiting hours were over and you could rest today. If it wasn’t any of your usual visitors then it had to be stranger. The thought made you uneasy, you hesitated to answer it at all. 

You can’t live in fear all the time. 

The door eventually opens and Spencer sees you for the first time in days. He actually tried to check on you earlier, but Penelope insisted everybody stick to her roster so you don’t get overwhelmed. The circles under your eyes were almost as dark as his, you hadn’t been getting much sleep. The swelling around your throat was almost all gone, but the bruising wasn’t healing like he expected it to. 

“Spencer…what are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse. 

“I brought take out.” He gently dangles a bag of food in front of him, his voice high, but quiet. 

You can practically smell the contents of the bag, nostalgia hitting you like a ton of bricks. It was your favourite thing to order on the days he’d come over for movie nights. Before Spencer showed you a side of him you didn’t know existed. It felt like a taunt, like he was twisting the metaphorical knife he plunged in your heart. It made you sick.

“I already ate.” You lie, mustering a dull smile on your face.

Spencer swallows and bites the inside of his cheek, not taking his eyes off you. Trying to think of the best way to call you out without causing you to shun him. 

“We can do something else until you’re hungry again.” He gives a tight lipped smile and raises his furrowed brows, like he’s pleading for you to accept his offer.

“I don’t think I’ll be hungry anytime soon.” You awkwardly laugh– well it’s close to a laugh if not for your strained vocal chords. 

“Can I come in anyway? We can put on a movie.” He’s using the voice he used to when trying to comfort you or convince you of something. Soft, low, steady. It’s a stark contrast to the voice you’ve been hearing for the last ten days. 

Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.

Tears threaten the composure you’re working so hard to maintain.

“Why are you really here?” You sigh, unable to stick with the pleasantries. 

“I told you.” He emphasises the bag of food in his hands again. “Take out. Maybe a movie–”

“Cut the shit.” You assert, harshly. “You can tell Penelope that you came to see me so she gets off your back, but please stop pretending like you care.”

“That’s…is that why you think I’m here?” His shoulders drop.

“Isn’t it?” You bite, your door now wide open as you lean against it for support. Your legs are aching to curl into your chest again. 

“No.” His reply is short and clear, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Why? There’s nothing in it for you.” You scoff, blinking from confusion. “Unless…is this some sick game? Seeing me like this– knowing that I’m– are you trying to gloat?”

“Gloat?” He repeats in almost a whisper, the hurt in his voice evident.

“Relish, rejoice, rub it in, I don’t know. You’re the walking thesaurus.”

He can tell from your lax posture that you're amused. Your back is against your door, hands behind your back and you’re leaning forward a bit as you stare at the ground. Not caring that your words cut deep.

Is this how low you think he is?

“Why would I be enjoying this?” His hopeful smile drops entirely as he tries to understand you. 

“Call it epicaricacy.” You shrug. 

“Epicaricacy?” He mumbles in a whispered tone, like he’s trying to process what you said.

Deriving pleasure from the misfortune of others.

Your eyes roll from how slow he’s acting and you have to hold yourself back from repeating the definition out loud.

“Do you honestly think I enjoy seeing you like this?” The change in pitch stings a bit. 

“No, I don’t think you like seeing me at all.” You half smirk up at him, sadness evident in your eyes. “Which brings us back to…why are you here Doc?”

“That’s not true.” He cringes, ignoring the second part.

“Not true?” You wiggle your brows sarcastically. 

“Not true.” He reaffirms, sighing deeply. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry.” You scoff again, shaking your head.

“I know that I’ve been unreasonable–”

“Unreasonable?” The tip of your tongue rolls against the back of your teeth, bewildered at his sheer audacity. 

“A dick! I’ve been a dick.” He corrects himself, desperate to have you hear him out. 

You tighten your jaw, inhaling lightly through your nose and your brows are raised as high as they can go. 

“I was hurt. Okay? I wash lashing out, but, I–” He takes a deep breath to stop himself, wanting to get to the point. “I know that I’ve been acting otherwise but, I care about you. And when I found you back there…I just…I know what you’re going through, even if you won’t admit it. I don’t want you to go through it alone.”

Your expression softens as he speaks. Of course he knows. He knows you better than anyone. For a moment you consider allowing yourself to break down in his arms, like you would have once. It’s jarring, Spencer reverting to his former self after he saved your life. The comfort swiftly bubbles into anger. All your attempts for reconciliation were met with so much hostility before. It took you almost dying for him to care. It feels too little too late. The only thing you can think of as he stands next to you is all the ways he can further hurt you if you let him. You push off your door and stand straight, giggling bitterly. 

“Spencer, go home.” You say with the same bitterness. 

“Please–”

“Go home! I don’t want your pity!” You yell. It feels alleviating. “Do you honestly think that  anything changes just because you saved my life? Do you think it erases everything that’s happened in the past few months? Because it doesn’t! Things can’t go back to how they were simply because you feel bad that I almost died. It’s not a flip you can switch. You don’t just get to start caring!” 

You're heaving and he can only stare at the ground. He knows you’re right, except for the one crucial error in your speech. 

“I never stopped caring.” He mumbles.

This fucking idiot.

Enraged, sad, frustrated, confused; all emotions you’ve been suppressing that are now fighting to show at the same time. You take a step closer to him and he meets your eyes again. You can see that he’s holding back tears, same as you. It fuels you in a twisted way. You have an opportunity to hurt him the way he hurt you and you don’t let it go to waste.

“Don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work to see your face at work, I don’t want to see it in my personal time too.” 

You can’t stay to see the effects of his words thrown back at his face, your heart’s threatening to burst from how fast it’s racing. His jaw locks from how tense he is. He knows exactly why you said it, but it’s still hard to hear. You turn around and rush into your apartment, shutting the door on his face, leaving him standing there. You don’t make it too far inside, collapsing on the wooden floor with a choked sob. 

That didn’t make you feel as good as you thought it would. You hoped that maybe if you could make him feel at least a fraction of you’re feeling, you’d hurt less. It was more than just getting back at him for everything he’s done. You were unknowingly trying to punish him for what Archie Carter did too. It didn’t make you hurt any less, but at least you felt less alone in your hurt. 

He didn’t come back for the rest of your time off. Everybody continued to follow the roster, showing up on their days and bringing you ‘get well soon’ goodies. Penelope even invited herself over for a night's stay once. You didn’t have the heart to say no, but you found yourself counting the hours until you’d be alone again, free to wallow. The only respite you got for the next week was on Spencer’s days. You could expect to be left mostly alone, only a bag of take out accompanied by an eerily fitting quote sitting outside your door. 

You hate to admit that those were your favourite days. You had a chance to breathe and he somehow knew exactly what you needed to hear. You gave the food away in protest and the quote would go straight in the bin (once you read it). One final psych evaluation later you were cleared to come back. Not that you needed one since you didn’t plan to stay for long. It was really just a formality. By the time you returned only a few faded bruises remained, easy enough to cover with concealer. 

“You’re back! Ooh, it’s so good to see you!” Garcia was the first with a warm greeting and a tight hug. You reciprocated to the best of your ability. 

“Good to have you back, Pretty Girl.” Derek’s second, walking you through the bullpen as you make your way to Hotch’s office.

“Enjoy it while you can.” You giggle in reply. “Is Hotch in yet?”

“I see someone can’t wait to leave us.” Emily jokes, feigning a hurt look. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, he’s expecting you.” JJ laughs, slapping Emily’s arm playfully. 

“Thanks JJ!” You smile and they all watch you disappear behind the door. 

“So it’s official? She’s really leaving?” JJ questions through a half-hearted smile. 

“I asked Rossi and he said that Hotch is gonna ask her to stay until we find a replacement.” Emily replies, still eyeing the door. 

“How did you get Rossi to admit that?” JJ turns to the raven head, questioningly, and Emily smiles coyly giving no response. 

“Am I the only one who thinks this whole thing would end once they make up? I mean come on, we all know she’s leaving because of him, right?” Morgan looks at Spencer, who’s nose deep in a file at his desk. 

“Yeah, but we can’t help if they refuse to talk to us about it.” Emily sighs, hanging her head back. 

The three dive deeper into their discussion and you’re none the wiser from inside the cream-coloured walls of Hotch’s office. As per protocol, he’s just finished informing you of what’s next and you’re kind enough to accept his request to stay until they find a replacement. You definitely said yes because you want to make the team’s transition easier, not for any self indulgent reasons such as you not being ready to leave. 

“Just return this to me once you’ve filled it out.” He instructs as he hands you a file containing your resignation forms. 

“Thanks Hotch.” You smile, grabbing the file. 

You begin heading towards the door when he stops you by your name. 

“I understand that you’re set on this decision, but I am sad to see you go.” It’s insane how many emotions this man can get across while maintaining a blank expression. “However, if you change your mind at any point, let me know.” 

“Thanks Hotch.” You playfully scoff, appreciating that even he has to try at least once. 

If one more person tries though, you might scream. It wasn’t easy, pretending that you weren’t crumbling inside. The extra pressure doesn’t make it any easier. You leave his office, closing the door behind you and approach your desk. The resignation forms are put aside for later as you still have to finish your case report from Anchorage. Part of you wanted to put it off until the last minute, the other part wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible. 

“Coffee?” Penelope chirps, holding out a mug filled with the hot beverage. 

“Thanks Pen.” You smile up at her, taking it out of her hands. 

“No problem.” She smirks mischievously and trots off. 

A strange lady, but your strange lady.

Upon your first sip you almost choke it out. It was perfect. Exactly to your liking. Which would be a good thing, except only one person knows exactly how you like it. Back when you first joined, you learned how popular coffee was with all the employees. You felt out of place because you weren’t a massive fan of the drink and you avoided too much sugar because it made you feel sick. You soon discovered that you liked it a lot more with honey instead. It was a weird preference, but it worked for you, making it sweet without overpowering your senses like sugar did. 

You never declined a cup when offered by your colleagues, not wanting to dishearten them. It was Spencer who caught you sneaking honey into your cup when you thought no one was paying attention. He never mentioned anything to you, but the next time he returned with a cup to offer, you couldn’t help but the smile that adorned your face for the rest of the day. It was why you dedicated yourself to morning breakfast runs for him, memorising his coffee order as a silent thank you. Neither of you ever talked about it. 

You spin your seat around to find Spencer engaged in conversation with Rossi. You consider walking past him and dumping the beverage in the sink to make a point, but it was a welcome energiser for the dreadful task at hand. Plus you aren’t wasteful. You spin back around and decide to accept it just this once. 

When he’s sure you’re no longer looking he sets his sights back on you. A small smile forms across his lips when he sees you drink the coffee. He honestly expected you to throw it away. He feared that if he was the one to deliver the mug, you’d throw it on him. It was why he convinced Garcia to do it, bribing her by promising to buy a round of drinks on the next night out. 

“Kid, are you even listening?” Rossi scolds in an incredulous way. 

As the hours pass, your frustration grows. You couldn’t get yourself to write the details of the case. Your mind refused to think about it. You had hoped that taking breaks would make it easier, but everytime you returned to the page your head went blank.

“Need some help?” Spencer asks, spawning next to you.

“Christ, Reid!” You blurt, startled. “I thought I told you to stop doing that.” 

“Sorry.” He chuckles as if on cue. 

You glare at him expectantly. He doesn’t say anything, glancing between you and the unfinished case file, waiting for an answer. 

“No thanks.” You keep it short, hoping he takes the hint. 

“Let me know if you do.” He doesn’t. 

“You wouldn’t even be the last person I’d ask if I did.” You snark. 

“But you would eventually?” He stays calm, almost playful. 

Smart ass. 

You choose to ignore him, be the bigger person and all that. Even though he wasn’t antagonising you. 

“Thanks for the coffee.” It’s forceful gratitude. You weren’t feeling grateful, but you still had manners. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Don’t make it again.” 

“I will not.” He grins and walks away to his desk. 

You act like you don’t know he’s watching you work. Looking up often to find you stuck on the same page. Even if he knew that you know, he didn’t plan to stop. What he does know is that you’d never directly let him help you. He doesn’t care. There weren’t any new cases this week, so a ton of paperwork was to be expected. It’s taunting enough to write down details of your own assault, the extra paperwork would only add more stress. You’re too busy trying to push through the mental blockade to notice the sudden influx of files on his desk and the efflux on yours. 

What you didn’t miss was how the next cup of coffee you were offered was just as perfect as the one from before. 

“I thought I told you to stop with the coffee, Reid.” You lightly slam the paper cup on Spencer’s desk. 

He leans back in his seat and chews on his lip with an entertained smirk. 

“And I did. That’s not from me.” He’s earnest with his response.

“Oh, so JJ just happens to know my coffee preferences all of a sudden?” You sarcastically retort, crossing your arms.

“No.” He crosses his fingers across his lap. “I told her how you like your coffee when she said she was going on a coffee run.”

“And why did you do that?” You play along, unenthusiastically. 

“Because you told me to stop doing it.” He states in the most casual way possible. 

This was getting you nowhere. It was naive to think he’d let you spend your last few weeks here peacefully. Scratch that– he was being peaceful. Too peaceful. A new tactic to get under your skin?

“Stop. It.” The delivery of your words is slow and emphasised. 

“Stop doing exactly what you’ve told me to?”

You bite your tongue and glare at him. His face, shoulders, arms, everything, is relaxed. You can’t even argue with him. You take a moment to consider how bad it would be if you bashed his head in with the back of your gun. Then you take another to critique how easy it is to pass the psych evals. They should really think about the consequences of using questions the BAU wrote on actual BAU agents. 

After that day you went back to ignoring him. Any time coffee was offered you’d decline altogether. If he attempted to try and talk to you, you’d respond with yes or no for the sake of professionalism. This didn’t deter Spencer though. He gave you your space but kept a close eye on you, continuing to try and ease your burdens from afar. Exactly how he used to. 

This only lasted until the next case came in. Specifically until you were back out on the field, where he perceived you to be in high amounts of danger. You tolerated it because it gave you comfort, not that you’d ever tell him. Having Spencer by your side made it easier to deal with the reality that there’s little you can do if another incident like Anchorage occurred. 

Plus focusing your energy on ignoring him kept the flashbacks away. Or it did, until the take down. You once again found yourself in danger from an unsub, only this time the situation was controlled. All guns were pointed at the killer, except for the one that was pointed at you. The plan was simple: you talk down the unsub, take him back to the station and talk him into exposing his partner. 

Everything was going according to plan, until Spencer realised that one of the cops in the room was his partner and he was about to shoot you. Nobody understood what happened before the situation calmed down. Spencer had fired the first shot towards the dirty cop and immediately tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the hail of bullets that followed after. All you remember clearly is freezing up, clinging to the man on top of you. One moment you were screaming out, trying to make sure that he was okay and the next you were back in the alley behind the bar, fighting for your life. 

You didn’t comprehend anything until the panic attack subsided but Spencer was fine. His vest caught the bullets. Both unsubs were dead. Rossi and Prentiss came to the realisation the same time as Spencer and were quick to react. And you weren’t in the alley. You were in Spencer’s arms as he led you away from the scene when it was safe. 

When you snapped out of it the medics had cleared him of any injuries. He tried to approach you during your check up, but you shoved him away, unable to even look at him. The only thing you remember clearly is Hotch sending you all back to your hotel rooms before tomorrow’s flight back. You should be asleep right now, if not from the exhaustion of today’s events alone, then from how long you spent reassuring everybody that you were okay. 

You couldn’t sleep. Not when so many thoughts were occupying your headspace. This is the second time Spencer’s saved your life, in the span of roughly a month. The first time he’s put his life in direct danger to save yours. Had it not been for his vest he would be dead. The more you linger on it, the angrier you’d become. You were also wearing a vest, you would’ve been fine. What he did was unnecessary and reckless. 

What if the bullet missed the vest? Entered through the side? What was he thinking?

You were mentally fighting the urge to barge into his room and yell at him for his stupidity, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go to him. What happens to him is not your problem anymore. You aren’t going to let your guard down just because he’s an idiot.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, Reader almost dies, Reader and Spencer are pissing me off, bc they’re so dumb, angst, hurt no comfort, Reader gets a little revenge.

AN - Before you comment ANYTHING, there is one more part. It’ll be posted a lot sooner than this one was. Writing this made me realise how limited the English language is. There’s only so many words to use and ways to write them. If either part sounds repetitive at times, it’s not my fault!!! Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

If you comment you garner good karma for yourself and that could lead to you meeting MGG someday (I’m not liable if this never happens), think about that... 

Thank you for reading!

[crumb]

please tell me you guys watched that video Noah Schnapp put out trying to backtrack and save his pathetic career. Please listen very carefully to the language and words he uses. He's choosing his wording VERY carefully in order to save his career and try to pacify those who support Palestine without actually denouncing genocide or zionism. "I feel my thoughts and beliefs have been so far misconstrued..." babe you were yelling from ig post to ig post about being pro israel, calling Palestinians terrorists, and being a proud zionist. How has that been misconstrued?? "I only want peace and safety and security for all innocent people affected by this conflict" He makes sure to use the qualifier 'innocent' several times in the video when referring to Palestinians, victims of a genocide not a conflict. But as we know, zionists don't see Palestinians as innocent so who is he talking about? This kind of tentative language helps him try to appear like he actually cares about Palestine while still condemning hamas without addressing the actual root of the issue—israel and the IOF. "We all hope for the same things..." Do we? You're a zionist. Zionism is settler colonialism and based in white supremacy. Please be more specific on what you hope for. "...That being, those innocent people being held hostage in Gaza be returned to their families. And equally hope for an end to the loss of innocent life in Palestine..." Zionists LOVE to go on and on about the hostages without mentioning the very real danger those hostages face from israel and the IOF bombs themselves. Israel is carpet bombing Palestine indiscriminately when they very much have the tech to make extremely detailed and targeted attacks. Did you see the way they targeted the specific apartment unit in Lebanon? In Gaza they're wiping out whole city blocks. Israel and the IOF don't actually care about the hostages. If they did they wouldn't be razing Gaza and boasting about their plans to use the land for beach condos. If israel and the IOF actually cared about israelis, why are they basically using the Hannibal Directive? Especially at the music festival on October 7th where the IOF killed a number of their own civilians. If israel cared about the hostages, why aren't they willing to release the hundreds of Palestinian hostages they have who are being jailed illegally and without charges? 'oh but they did! They released some during the pause so they could get hamas to release some israeli hostages' yeah and then the IOF rounded up and captured more Palestinians than they released that very same day. "...I think anyone with any ounce of humanity would hope for an end to the hostility on both sides. I stand against any killing of any innocent people" Once again with the manipulative qualifiers 'both sides' and 'innocent people'. How can you expect an occupied people who have been living through apartheid and genocide for 75 years to not eventually fight back? To not understand why October 7th happened you have to be either completely uneducated about even the most basic history of Palestine and/or so deeply entrenched in propaganda and denial that it doesn't even matter if you do know about the history because you truly believe you deserve an ethnostate on a piece of land that has inhabited several diverse groups over thousands of years. It was never a land of 1 singular homogeneous group. To want it to be that, is actually insane.

[fieldsofbats]

a family man : könig x fem!reader

summary: könig wants to know why he hasn't met your family.

tw: bad relationship with mother, mentions of difficult childhood, trust issues reader. please let me know if i have missed anything x

a/n this is completely self-indulging and for v specific audience. mummy issues unite! also my first longer fic :))

you wanted to turn and slam the door in his face, but you knew that would make the situation worse. instead you pushed it open and left it where is slammed against the wall. he followed you into your room, closing the door behind him. each step brought him closer to you and thats all that mattered to him. closer equal comfort, but you felt so far away.

"i just don't understand why its such a big deal?" he whined again. it was the same thing over and over for the pas two weeks. when can i meet your family? why haven't you introduced me? does your family know about me? of course they know about him. well some of them.

you sighed and sat on your desk chair taking off your work boots and socks. it broke your heart a tiny bit to keep answering him the same thing, not strong enough yet to explain to him why you didn't let him meet your family yet.

"it's not a big deal. just...it's difficult." you answered, rushed to think of a new excuse. this time he started to take his uniform off, keeping his hood securely on. the anxiety in you began to grow and bubble up as his questions grew more reasonable, your internal logic falling apart. and you knew the anxiety was just as high in him, he never kept his hood on once you both entered one of yours bedrooms, his or you own.

"but why?" he paused for a moment, shifting backwards onto his heels in defeat. "do you not see a future with me in it?" his voice was scarily calm through the sentence. a future without him? you couldn't even fathom it. is this what you drove him to? the anxiety died down into guilt for pushing aside königs feelings to maintain your high walls.

it just wasn't that easy. having to explain why you never wanted him to meet your family. formulating a response for him seemed to be near impossible without breaking every rule you had set of yourself. every wall that was carefully built to let him in just enough that you seemed normal. its the dropping of the corners of his eyes from his lips frowning, the new shimmer of tears on his waterline that seem to push you over. fuck.

"there will never be a path in my life without you accompanying me, könig." your hand reached up to brush his face through the hood. tears hand't broken yet as the fabric covering his face was still dry, but his shakey breaths told a different story. "just sit down and let me explain."

he obediently sat on the edge of your bed, at this height he was eye level with you.

"firstly, my family live too far away for us to actually meet them anytime soon. and for what its worth, my father and brother both know about you." his hands gripped tighter on your thighs, mostly for his own comfort. he tilted his head in question. you knew before he asked.

"i am not close to my mother. she is still alive. where? i don't know. she is not a nice woman, she is cruel and controlling. she wasn't the best person to my growing up and became worse as i tried to leave home and have any sense of individuality. so no, you will never meet my mother." you sighed out a breath of relief. finally telling him the truth. the ugly awful truth about your own family and your past.

it worried you so much because he is so close to his mother. she is incredible, the epitome of a women. kind, sweet, generous, caring. she welcomed you with open arms when you met her. she taught you to cook königs favourite childhood meal and didn't kick you out after you made so many mistakes.

his eyes wondered downwards as he nodded. his grip never faltered, but you could see the thoughts processing through his mind. you knew you had blown it. fucked it. completely messed it up. this is why the walls are there. this is why you don't commit to people. this is-

"thats alright, perle. thank you for telling me." his eyes had come back up to you during your spiral of thoughts. he wasn't amazing at using his words but his actions always meant more. his hands had risen from your thighs to your waist, gently rubbing up and down in a soothing motion, tugging your shirt up slightly to expose your skin. his hands, free of there gloves, rubbed against your skin. round in circles, up and down, back and forth.

"you know you can just tell me things. i know its difficult but i hope you know you can trust me." he smiled under the hood, "i love you very much."

with that, you stepped forwards on the bed and straddled his legs. both hands wrapped around his neck, chest to chest in a tight embrace. it was so simple but exactly what you needed to hear. his hands remained on your skin, reaching to the top of you back and then down again.

"i love you very much as well." you whispered back. he hummed back and pressed his face further into you. inhaling and exhaling with comfort. you did the same. his shampoo, his body wash, his sweat, his everything.

a moment passed before he said "i'm more scared to meet your dad honestly." you giggled a little at the comment. kissing the top of his head you stood up and stroked the fabric of his hood.

"you should be."

[bubuslutty]

cod word vomit

title: the bear in the witch's hut.

pairing: witch fem!reader x captain John price

word count: 1k

a/n: I had to write this out or I'll throw up. I'm so in love with this man it's actually so fucking pathetic. he should spit in my mouth and make me his already.

fantasy/medieval au where the British island is at war and most of the neighbouring countries are at war with each other.

Not only human lives are used for the pursuit of power, but also animals, magical creatures, mages, and anything in between, soiling the earth in vain.

This has been going on for years, and hope seems to be lost year by year, more people are dying of disease, curses and hunger, or straight out killed by enemies.

Everything seems almost lost when a woman rises amidst hopeless war generals and kings, demanding she would create her own unit, to find a solution to these massacres.

That was Kate Laswell.

Along the way she collects a bunch of unique people, making it their own mission to do the impossible, stop the war, at all costs, by any means necessary.

John Price was the captain, the leading man of their unit, and the man who trusted Laswell to guide them, and who also trusted him in exchange. The man has been in the army for gods knows how long. The war started a couple of years after he was born, so he pretty much lived his whole life in the middle of the said war.

John couldn’t sit and watch people he knew and loved get killed and families getting ripped apart, so he enlisted as soon as he was of age, leaving to war and leaving his sick father and weeping mum behind.

The man has seen and been through a lot. He has been through so much and yet he hasn’t given up, yet. And to keep him going, he was granted leave once in a while, to visit his dad and mum back on their farm. And then one day, the village nearby gets attacked while John is at home, with his parents, and he gets his sword and goes down to help.

Enemy troops are out there, out for blood. And no matter how many soldiers John slays, they keep coming, and he realises he’s outnumbered, they’re outnumbered, him and the few men and women who can still walk on both feet and carry the weight of metal on wooden handles.

Then like an answered prayer, rhythmic gallops shake the ground. A hot gust of wind hits John on the face, making him hold his breath and lock eyes with her.

A witch on a high dark horse, eyes and hands glowing as the soldiers around them start to burn alive. Of course, she wasn’t the only one, there were more witches that came out of nowhere to defend the village from the enemy troops. But John couldn’t give less of a fuck about any other witch but the one who jumped down her horse, no a trace of fear in her face and teeth bared as she burns her enemies without even touching them.

And John is soooo royally fucked, his eyes are stuck on her face, and everything is happening in slow motion in his head, that is until he notices a soldier running behind her, sword in hand, and he reacts in half a second and sticks his sword in the man’s throat, right over her shoulder. And oh, her eyes are so much prettier up close.

Things happen, and a couple of leaves later, he ends up getting married under a sessile oak tree to the witch he never thought he would love so fast and so deeply. His mum is at his side, his dad is buried down at the cemetery, and a neighbour was kind enough to marry them off and Kyle, or Gaz, was there as a witness. And it is so far, John’s happiest day in his life.

However, war was still happening and John was needed to lead soldiers for country and Queen. So he was more gone than present, but his dear witch understood and never made him feel guilty for being needed elsewhere other than her side or his mother’s. After all, she too has a job to do and it’s to protect their village and the innocent and vulnerable.

This goes on for about a year until the witch had enough and decides to pack up and leave, but without making sure John’s mum was somewhere safe. Nothing improved and things were getting worse and worse, no matter how hard she tried, and no matter how hard the witches tried their best to heal, to rebuild, to protect, it was not nearly enough.

She travels day and night, on her trusty horse, and crosses rivers, forests, and mountains to reach John’s current base. And fate was on her side because when she arrived, they only arrived two days ago back from a mission. John was shocked at first, immediately assuming the worst, maybe the whole village burned down, maybe the farm was attacked and they got his mum, maybe-

His dearest reassures him, telling him everything is fine, as fine as anything could be in war at least. And John kisses her like he doesn’t need to breathe, and then he realises with a shudder that everything is about to change with the arrival of his wife. What’s not going to change is the snickers and annoying teasing of his men, now worse that they get to actually meet the woman who so easily wrapped him around her finger.

Hope and determination swell in his chest now that his love is by his side. And she proves herself to be a great asset already because as soon as she notices the ugly bash on Soap’s forehead, she corners him and fixes him up with a whisper and a caress of her hand.

John feels stronger, more focused and more relaxed, his shoulders tensing less every time he hears her voice or sees her walk by, busying herself around the base. But he also feels more anxious, and the responsibility gets heavier on his shoulders, because not only he has to watch out for his men, but also for the love of his life. He can’t fail her. He’ll do anything in his power to get her the future she wants, a humble home, a piece of land and little feet running around, screams and laughs bouncing off the walls, calling for their momma and daddy.

if u want more do reblog with a comment or tags, or send an ask.

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @obiwankenobis-lap @goapgrim @smalldemonlover @silviafantin15 @bobastayhigh  

[cmrosens]

Worldbuilding notes for queer normative fantasy societies... I have a lot of thoughts about this so here are some notes and questions around 3 of the main ones I have been thinking about recently.

1. How many different structures of formally recognised relationships are there outside of the monogamous spouse version?

If you want a society where relationships themselves are queered, moving away from a monogamous default, think about different forms of union and commitment and whether these can be legally recognised and what the legal/civil ramifications are.

Who recognises these relationships? What is the legal process to get them recognised? If there is no legal process then are we looking at a society where taxes are a communal responsibility and not levelled at individuals?

Is there freedom of movement and if so how much is affordable and feasible - does this have a bearing on queer people even in a queer normative world? What happens if the village is very small and has 3 queer people in it none of whom really like each other? Where do you go to find a partner if you can't travel far?

If the society thinks arranged marriages are normal and there is no concept of marrying for love, and no expectation of attraction only reasonable companionship, and you can have multiple spouses/formal partners for political reasons and to unite families (perhaps to formally team up and spread the cost of those communal taxes, etc) then you may end up with the situation of lots of different relationship structures and someone married off finally coming out as straight, and their formal partner wingmanning them to find someone else to be with.

2. Inheritance law and family connections

In a queer normative society, it would make sense for both biological kids and adopted or fostered kids to be equally accepted and no distinction drawn between them. This has extensive knock-on effects for how society is structured and

Legitimacy may not even mean anything in a society with multiple relationship structures. So how does this all work legally and socially and culturally and politically and economically?

First off: does it matter who your parents are and whether you have a firm grasp of your personal genealogy, or would people just give up on all that because it gets so muddy.

E.g.::::

"I am Bran son of Brom" means nothing when you actually mean, "I am Bran, my mother Ceris was the wife of Carl and she carried me to term and Brom didn't impregnate her, that was Roan, partner of Brom, but to be fair it might also be Carl because we can't really be sure on the timing there, and then Ceris and her other partner Sara both nursed me as a baby and then as a kid it was decided I would have more opportunities in life if I went to live with Brom and Roan and learned their trade, and then Brom as the higher earner and the one contributing most to the communal taxes thought he should be the one to formally adopt me, even though I still mostly lived with Ceris and Carl and Sara until I was 16, because then I would inherit more and be able to pursue a different career path and have money to travel, so when I say I am Bran son of Brom I mean only in the technical legal sense".

It also makes no sense here to say, "I am Bran son of Brom" and erase Ceris, Sara, Carl and Roan from that picture of yourself, particularly if the society is not patriarchal and therefore less likely to reckon lineage in a strict patrilineal way.

In this example, the implications of saying, "I am Bran son of Brom" are that you don't KNOW who your other connections are and you have had a childhood lacking in all the other communal connections others have had. You only know Brom. Were you hermits, living apart from society in a lonely, mountainous region somewhere? That would make sense. But people might still look at you once you say "I am Bran son of Brom" and wait a bit and then be like, "...Brom, and...??"

Like you wouldn't say that. You would instead say something like, "I am Bran of Seven Oaks" because the place is what everyone has in common, or you might say "I am Bran, of the Seven Oaks community" if the people are more important than their location.

Or would communities like this have their own assigned name, if not based on location, then on something else? A symbol or glyph that represents different groups and people adopt this glyph when they enter into a new community, but keep records of the previous ones they have been connected to until there is a whole string of glyphs after their name as a shorthand record of their entire network of relationships? Is this marked on their skin or on some item they wear? Formally inscribed in ledgers and public records?

Do these glyphs appear as a straight line, a row or column, or is there a cobweb or star shape with different sections/points meaning different things, and these symbols/glyohs/letters or whatever are placed in the web or star points?

That might be a cool item of jewellery with things carved on beads and beads added to it, or a massive back tattoo that gets added to all the time until for some it covers their whole body like a map of all the people they have connected with in some official way through their entire lives, especially if you adopt a kid and add in that kid's connections that are now connected to you.

How would people react to those with very few beads and few connections? Would they treat them with pity or with suspicion? What is the story of "Bran son of Brom"??

3. Patriarchy vs Matriarchy vs ....????

First, let's not pretend Matriarchy is a utopia. It is the same thing as patriarchy except women are in charge, and is equally as toxic in terms of structure. A society where 50% of citizens are subject to gender-based power structures is not a good one regardless of which gender is in charge.

Also, this still presents the normative of a gender binary, so you would still have structural oppression of genders who do not conform to or are perceived to undermine that binary. Up to you if your society is like that, but one to consider.

Also if we are talking about a queer normative society with one of those "gender plague" situations so everyone with an X or Y chromosome is dead, trans people and non binary people would still exist, still presenting in the applicable way. Intersex people would still exist, and people who present as "the sex that doesn't get the plague" may still contract it and die of it if you have it linked to chromosomes, because unless you do chromosomal testing you won't always know to look at someone what they have. So there is all that to think about.

Eliminating all cis men from a society doesn't actually get rid of men or masc-presenting people, but it does open things up for a less binary society in general.

If we aren't playing with dodgy science, and we have a queer normative society but you do want to explore some hierarchical structures within it, there are lots of other ways you can do that unrelated to gender.

In fact it doesn't make sense for this fantasy society in the "Bran son of Brom" example to have "gender roles" at all, so what is the internal family structure like in terms of power balance? Is this more about dominant personality vs democracy (just because you agree one person is in charge means nothing in practice if there is a more charismatic option that undermines this elected choice). Is it to do with earning power? If things are decided at communal meetings, who chairs them and why? What is the knock on logical effect on society on a larger scale?

So much stuff to think about there tbh

[sailor-aviator]

Hello, I just wanted to say hi and say I love your work and I’ve been kinda shadow following you under the Jake x reader search page and finally got the courage to officially follow you today because of the boops and seeing all your posts about what really supports you as a writer on here will make me more involved in amplifying your work because it’s always brought me joy seeing your chapters pop up under latest posts.

Also I once anonymously submitted an ask to your plea for Glen to work with the muppets and it was nice to see 1. The muppets on the timeline outside of Christmas and 2. People suggesting Glen should do some lighthearted stuff where if any cheating rumors were to emerge, it would be breaking up Kermit and Piggy.

Thank you for coming (being forced to read) to my Ted talk.

Hi!!

First and foremost, thank you for following!! It means a lot, and I’m so glad you decided to come say hi!! I’m gonna use this ask to say a few things, so just know that I’m not lecturing or yelling at you, okay?

Writing is work. Like a LOT of work. For a lot of these fics, there’s a shit Tom of research that goes into some of the background of them because we want to make them as accurate as possible. I once spent four hours researching the history of railroads in the United States (specifically during the 1870s and 80s) for Don’t Hang’em Til Noon. Planning a fic takes time even without the added research. Fool’s Fare took a while to plan, and Fortune & Glory is taking even longer because of the amount of lore that’s going to have to go into it as an Indiana Jones knock off.

People have lives outside of here. We have families, jobs, pets, friends, etc. So the fact that we dedicate so much time to this hobby is a testament to how much we love doing it.

However,

It becomes discouraging when we post our hobby for others to see, step away for a little bit and come back to find no meaningful interactions with the works. I said this in a different post, but likes do nothing on Tumblr. They don’t boost it to other people or an algorithm or whatever. Likes are used as bookmarks on here and nothing more. If you like a fic, you NEED to reblog it.

The fact of the matter is that we don’t make works for you all for free. The price you pay to read the fics is genuine interactions. Could be a reblog with a comment, a reply to the post, a DM to the author, or an ask (anonymous or not). I cannot tell you how many authors on here that you all read (myself included) that have thought about leaving in recent months and just giving the fics to our friends because of the lack of interactions within the fandom. We are a small fandom, yes, but that means you should be supporting your artists even more actually. We WANT you guys to interact with us! You aren’t a burden!

Anyway, yes! Petition for Glen to do something with the Muppets. Maybe like a western romance or something? Let the cheating rumors fly with Miss Piggy!!

I’m a SLUT for the Muppets!

[whinlatter]

author's note | chapter 9: wintering ❄️

thank you so much for reading chapter 9 of beasts. in this chapter, ginny goes home for christmas, back into the fold of the family that anchored the anti-voldemort movement now grieving the loss of a brother and a son - and finds it's tougher to keep secrets from one harry james potter than she might otherwise have thought. this was a tough chapter to write, and one i cared a lot about trying to get right. so - let's have a chat about it (and a little sneak peek of chapter 10)...

✨ spoilers for this chapter below the cut  ✨

writing notes and headcanons:

writing: this is the first chapter where i’ve strayed from the chapter plan and shunted scenes to a future chapter. i ummed and ahhed about it, then remembered no-one else knows what the plot is and what this chapter was supposed to be, then got a grip lol. lesson learned - if it’s hard work and it feels like you’re trying to force it, you probably are, so chill out lmao

this ended up, then, as a chapter about families. we see the blacks, the order itself, andromeda and teddy’s new little unit, little glimpse of the lovegoods - and the possibility of new families, most obviously in the case of bill and fleur’s baby on the way. at the core of this chapter, though, are the weasleys, this openly political family of freedom fighters, first family of the resistance, and a family thoroughly scarred by war. i’ve talked a bit about this elsewhere, but i have always been so struck that the weasleys enter the narrative as add-ons to ron, harry’s mate, but over the series increasingly become the core of the entire anti-voldemort movement, with a history of resistance and also of grief and sacrifice (fabian and gideon). so this chapter spends some time with each member of the family, a little panorama of the weasleys eight months on from the battle to see how they’re all coping (or not). it was really really important to me that each family member’s grief and emotional state got a moment in this chapter. partly this is because i think that writing character-centric fiction shouldn’t neglect attending to the broader emotional context of the ensemble around a character, but also because each family member is quietly showing ginny the different ways they’re all responding to fred’s death in ways that might get her thinking about who she feels most similar to and who her family needs her to be. that bill is the only family member who answers ginny’s wish that her family would talk about fred more and stop avoiding saying his name was deliberate. with his parents struggling so much, bill is clearly stepping up as the person to look after his family. he’s aware of his own emotional responses, he’s discussing his own grief, but he’s also looking to the future, making plans for it and trying to improve the world he’ll spend it in, even though he knows  it’ll be bittersweet. it was important for me to have ginny to have that behaviour modelled to her from someone she singularly admires.

space: as the plot of ginny looking back and processing a childhood at war progresses, i wanted to draw together and quietly contrast two spaces, grimmauld place and the burrow. these are the two headquarters of the order of the phoenix, two family homes, two sites of familial rupture - and, now,  two places equally haunted by the ghosts of people who once lived there and who are now gone. writing this chapter i did a lot of imagining the communal spaces in both residences kind of as a set for a play with ensemble characters walking on and off stage at whim, which actually made the whole thing much easier when i was freaking out about having too big a cast for one chapter lol.

harry and ginny: see here!

molly weasley: my real soapbox issue for this chapter is that molly weasley’s grief really, really matters. i know molly is rarely anyone’s blorbo. she’s increasingly hated in certain corners of the fandom (check the most kudos-ed fic tagged under molly & ginny lol) and even among those people who like molly, lots of postwar fics focussing on different characters’ pics have her just sort of return to normal, get back to fussing about the house and the kids’ relationships and careers in her mumsy way. i do get this: it’s hard to want to give a lot of time in a fic to a (usually) tertiary character’s grief rather than the protagonist’s, especially when everyone is grieving, and molly is an often convenient source of either amusement, nuisance or even antagonism in hinny fics (many of my own favourites!) for her (seemingly) conservative views on sexuality and her busybody behaviour. but i’ve never subscribed to this in my own headcanon as a canon coherent choice, simply because canon is very clear that molly weasley’s worst nightmare is the death of one of her children, and that nightmare happens. (in fact, it’s even worse than she imagines in the boggart, because even in her worst nightmares she didn’t imagine one of the twins dying and not the other.) while i absolutely do not want to relate this fictional loss to the real life experiences of friends and family who have known terrible loss, it was important to me to try and write an alternative version of molly that centred her grief in a way that felt plausible and true, and acknowledged that the loss she and arthur have endured is one that would change them enormously.. truthfully, i don’t think either character would ever really be ok again (which why grief is so hard to work with narratively - it offers no neat conclusions or easily legible arcs of healing).over the past few months, ginny has been worrying about a very teenage set of worries re molly, stressing about her mother’s response to her losing the captaincy and poor school performance, thinking she might get a howler, gearing up for a fight over whether harry can sleep in her bed - only to get home to find her mum has fallen apart. narratively, i wanted ginny to see her mum like this, and to finally start to understand why her mum was so insistent on her being a child and having a childhood and keep her away from the war that ginny was so desperate to fight in. 

the other point here, and i do feel strongly about this, is that for a fandom very interested in how families, loss and trauma during wars shapes characters (marauders fics are some of the richest best explorations of these themes), i worry we don’t care nearly enough about what molly weasley goes through, and about how women respond to their grief in complicated and nuanced ways. as @saintsenara has pointed out, the lack of attention paid to molly weasley’s backstory and grief over her brothers, and especially her grief after fred’s death, smacks of misogyny. perhaps molly’s frumpy mumsy unchic domesticity fretting about her children’s grades makes her not a cool enough character to care about her pain: perhaps it’s that she beefs sirius, everyone’s traumatised fave (and a character i adore). but i do really care in this fic about offering a rendering of molly that shows a possible way she would respond to fred's death, now seeing in her children the grief she has lived with already for so long, no longer able to return to the person she was before. i think molly weasley is a person who understands how their awful world works and tries to encourage her children into a path that will provide for them with material security and offer chances to do meaningful work towards reform. and while you can disagree with that as advice to her children, i don't think that worldview invalidates her right to thorough, compassionate treatments in fics and analysis as a character who is so very loved and special to harry. molly weasley is the only person who demands these children have a childhood and we should not forget it!

andromeda: ahhh man. ok this chapter i learnt people writing andromeda are really strong soldiers because i tried like 30 different characterisations until i found one that didn’t make me want to gouge my own eyes out. she couldn’t be too warm, because she’s a) a black and b) canonically wary of strangers and quick to be offended/insulted (ted’s the gentle one of the two of them). she does have to have a certain domesticity to her because tonks mentions her knack for household charms, but couldn’t be overly mumsy, in contrast to molly, because tonks clearly was drawn to molly’s mothering instincts (early HBP kitchen scene) in ways that suggest andromeda’s were less obvious. i wanted her to be a proud person, someone polite but wary, self conscious (and self critical) of her own particularities and mistakes as a parent, who has a working relationship with harry but not a maternal one, and who would probably be a bit suspicious of all these teenagers playing with teddy, who is now the centre of her world, lest they drop him on his head or stand on his baby toes. i imagine ginny and andromeda having a cordial but eventually slightly fractious relationship - 'girlfriend of the teenage godson to my orphaned grandson' is a weird role to play in a person’s life, after all. i can see ginny reminding andromeda of the daughter she lost, and it was fun to draw that out a bit here (andromeda immediately kibboshing the broomstick idea as a case in point).

relatedly sirius: finally getting to begin using some of my sirius scenes now we’re at grimmauld place 😈 i’m really excited about the plot to draw in the memory of sirius in this fic, and so it seemed right to begin bringing him in in a chapter about families, generations (mothers!) and what living with trauma and grief after war can do to a person. we see him finally arrive in person in a flashback to the day the weasleys arrived in his house, freshly reconfined to grimmauld and sullen because of it, but also being perceived by ginny and the weasleys as someone with great presence. he becomes the subject of a great deal of interest and hero worship by the twins and ginny, with only ron (following hermione) noting that sirius black does not seem to be a well man. sometimes in fics the (understandable) impulse to focus on sirius’ good godfather traits can be taken a bit too far with authors overstating how warm/inviting/interested sirius would be in the parade of weasleys who move in with him at a very low moment for him personally. i liked having sirius being sort of shrug about their arrival, having only the briefest moment with ginny where a commonality between them (the betrayal of a brother) is identified but saying nothing about it. sirius black is in no place to reassure someone about sibling estrangement. ginny, in her approach to sirius, tries to position herself in opposition to her mother, apologising for her with an eye roll kind of vibe, and raging at her for excluding her from the order meeting when no one else was. she also expresses empathy with sirius’ plight of being confined for your own protection when you really want to fight and have your revenge (👀). meanwhile, in the present, harry and ginny wake up in sirius’ childhood bed, spend the day inside grimmauld watched on by paps, and the ginny goes back to her own family home, where she throws herself into christmas planning and prepping to try and raise spirits and distract from all of the shit going on, à la sirius in ootp. (i’ll finish that sirius and ginny meta before the next chapter i swear). 

dolohov: me, a few months ago, realising that the man killed fabian and gideon prewett also killed remus

percy: so far in beasts, percy has come up only in passing - unfavourable press coverage, and on the board in graves’ classroom, part of the machine that sent muggleborns to azkaban and some, in all probability, to their deaths. lots of brilliant brilliant fics (some rec’d below) explore percy plausibly as a resistance agent working within the ministry, but i’m always a bit suspicious of this reading, given his line in the room of req  (‘it’s been coming on for a while, but I had to find a way out and it’s not so easy at the Ministry, they’re imprisoning traitors all the time’ - this doesn’t sound to me like a road to damascus moment the second scrimgeour died, does it? when exactly did you realise you'd fucked up perce? like babe you’re the assistant to the minister - how many people did you help imprison, given the muggleborn registration commission was up and thriving within a month of the ministry takeover?) i think, whatever the extent of percy’s resistance (and there will be more on this!), it’s clear that ginny, of all of the siblings, would probably be the least likely to forgive percy. it’s not just that the decisions he makes are so far from her own, or that his treatment of her parents was egregious, it’s also her loyalty and ferocious protectiveness of harry, who percy royally fucks over at every possible turn with little remorse. (he doesn’t engage with or apologise to harry in the room of requirement!) ginny wasn’t there with percy when fred died like ron was, an experience that i think would help ron decide life’s too short and make a cordial peace with percy. i think ginny would want percy to feel a hell of a lot of shame before ever warming up to him again. i like percy as a character, i think his arc is so good, but i also find satisfaction putting him in the corner at the weasley christmas with old xeno, stood with the other guy who should have done the brave thing and didn’t.  just because your family tease you doesn’t mean you should commit war crimes!

teddy: me writing this chapter like 

the order: the interaction i have in this chapter between lee and ginny, over whether the order beat voldemort, is my attempt to get something i have been thinking a lot about without much resolution, which is (partly) what does the order actually do, but also how do the order think about the end of the war when it turns out they kind of were peripheral to the effort of winning it? obviously they did some things, and order members obviously fought in the battle, but the order actually were instrumentalised by dumbledore into a bigger plot that involved harry that he kept them in the dark about. i think it would be very weird for the order in the aftermath of war to think about what their efforts really meant when their losses are huge and their accomplishments minimal, other than helping keep harry alive at times - and weirder still for ginny, who was never old enough to join and was kept at arm’s length from the soldiers’ table only to find out those soldiers didn’t really matter anyway.  no profound takes just curiosity on my part, but very interested if anyone has any takes on this!

ron and hermione: very sorry to the lovely anon who just asked about hermione — saying nothing for now but what do you think’s going on there! weird innit. a real mystery. if only someone would tell us

harry’s kitchenware collection: what’s up with that hmmmmmm

songs on the playlist for this chapter:

i listened to a lot of choral music for this chapter - ofc christian symbolism is all over the series (can't move for it), so was leaning into that a bit (lol), and the little church by the graveyard in godric's hollow with the muggles inside on christmas eve has always struck me as a very beautiful and sad image, so i was trying to channel those vibes too a bit in this chapter (ginny and bill listening to the carols in the village in the garden, and the view from molly and arthur's window of the ottery st catchpole church spire). my favourite is the holst arrangement for lullay, mine liking, a fifteenth century carol originally in middle english, which has these very tender lyrics that are about the infant christ but also work painfully well for molly's grief: lullay, mine liking, my dear son, my sweeting.

lullay my liking (arr. holst) by the godley singers | hey, ma by bon iver | gregorian chant for the dead by aurora surgit and alessio randon | 7 o'clock news/silent night by simon & garfunkel | i don't like my mind by mitski | this is me trying - the long pond studio version by taylor swift | should have known better by sufjan stevens (i mean - my brother had a daughter/the beauty that she brings - illumination. perfect no?) | hope by james newton howard (i have a lot of songs from the soundtrack to terence malick's incredibly beautiful film a hidden life on this playlist, because that film remains a real touchstone for the visuals i'm imagining for a lot of this fic but also a lot of the vibes of family and resistance)

reading list: 

on percy (loads here):

dawn is coming, open your eyes by dialux (an all time fave) The Last Something That Meant Anything by Anonymous (TW for sexual assault) 'Hope' is a Thing With Feathers by PeachyKeener

on molly (and molly and ginny):

Every Mother is a Grave by @witchofimber Mother, any distance greater than a single span by Simon Armitage (did anyone else read this for gcse english lit and still find themselves thinking about it a dozen years later?

on sirius and molly:

'He slammed the door in her face' by @ashesandhackles Meta: An alternative read on Sirius and Molly's argument also by @ashesandhackles

on andromeda:

turncoat: in defense of andromeda tonks née black by dirgewithoutmusic

on teddy and the potter family:

little accomplishments by irnan

ok technically i am cheating with this sneak peek because technically i shared a bit of this scene a bazillion years ago/way back in january, a month or so before i started putting the fic out (over here), so here's... a bit more of it hehe:

‘Did it hurt?’ she asks. ‘Becoming an Animagus?’ His laugh is a bark. ‘Unbelievably.’  ‘It must have been worth it, though.’  ‘It’s hard to know what things are worth.’ Definitely in one of those moods.

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Florrickology, Part 7: An Annotated Biography of Counsellor Desiré Florrick (Volume 1)

Aside from simply collecting thought-trinkets for my mind palace, the field of Florrickology had a goal:

Developing an elaborate, but believable, headcanon backstory for my beloved.

Has Florrick always lived in Baldur's Gate, or did she move there from elsewhere? Is she, or was she ever, a Flaming Fist? How long has she worked in service to the city? How, where, why, and when did she study to become a wizard? How did she come to be Ulder Ravengard's most trusted and supportive friend, and his advisor?

Below is Part 1 of my headcanon based on scant evidence, vibes, lore* (via Forgotten Realms wiki), more vibes (making shit up), and also what I personally think is the most interesting and/or sexiest.

*lore mistakes are actually just part of the AU so don't worry about it

Annotated Biography of Counsellor Desiré Florrick (Volume 1)

Early Life

Florrick was born around the year 1368(a), the last child of a family-unit consisting of four intermingled adults and their combined eight offspring. Born underneath the setting sun, she was given the birth name Ren (b).

(a) BG3 takes place in 1492, when Florrick is approximately 124 years old. (b) According to the Forgotten Realms wiki (FRW), "ren" means "west". I originally named her "Dale" because I thought it was cute and funny, but decided that based on her community, she should have a more Elven name.

The family made their home in a small river valley known to locals as Florrick Dale. They were part of a large, semi-isolated wood elf community deep within the great Forest of Tethir. The only non-wood-elven settlement nearby was a druidic enclave (c), which the family counted as friends. Aside from necessary trade, the community largely rejected contact with the world outside of the forest, its members living wholesome, but ascetic, lives of hunting, farming, woodcraft, and the wood elf ancestral duty of defending the sacred forest from perceived threats.(d)

(c) This is Jaheira's enclave, which took her in after her Tethyrian noble family was slain by peasants. Connecting her to Jaheira, for Reasons, is the only reason I placed Florrick's origin in Tethyr. (d) all Wood Elf lore, beliefs, etc comes from FRW.

As the baby of a large family, young Ren was coddled by her parents and older siblings (e); and as a very bright child, she dominated the community's thorough (if limited) schooling and ranger training. Although only a middling archer, she particularly excelled in tracking and spellcasting (f). Often, she was held up as a paragon of wood-elven youth, an example for others of her age group and younger to follow.

Subsequently, she grew into an exceptionally confident and bold (read: vain and brash) teenager and young adult... but also a bored and curious one (g). But, dutiful daughter as she was, golden child as she was, she did her best to swallow the discontent brewing inside her.

(e) She just serves "spoiled youngest who was also really talented" vibes. (f) As established in Florrickology, she is a very good tracker. Her skill with a bow is unknown, but she did manage to beef up to 12 STR as an adult, so her athletic prowess is at least somewhat demonstrated. (g) Her delusional self confidence and Fuck It We ball approach to life had to start somewhere.

Although the Florrick Dale family were not extremists themselves, other members of the community subscribed to the belief that all humans should be eradicated from Faerun in the interest of protecting the sacred forests from their destruction. Frequent conflict among the Elders on this matter was a great source of intrigue for a restless teenage Ren, sparking an interest in the outside world and its inhabitants. Could the outside world really be so dangerous, so violent, so destructive? Was there no order or justice to found outside the hallowed wood of Tethyr? Were humans such irredeemable monsters? ... Was there a world outside of the dale and the wood worth knowing? Was there a life aside from hunting, and farming, woodcraft, and patrolling? Ren tried to put these questions out of her mind, trusting the judgement of her parents and the community Elders. But by 1391, when the winds carried whispers of a great battle and a nearby land slowly being swallowed by shadow(h), the curiosity and the sense that there was something out there aside from what she knew got the better of her.

(h) the Harper-led battle against the forces of Ketheric Thorm and the subsequent inception of the shadow curse took place in 1391, when Florrick was around 23 years old.

Unable to shake the sense that there was something she was missing out on, Ren tracked her way to the trading outpost on the edge of the wood and purchased two worldly books: The Illustrated Adventures of Balduran and, on an impulse--an instinct, perhaps--, an early edition of Magic of the Weave - an Introduction. Few things was actually against the rules of the community--but Ren was well aware that owning such things was frowned upon, and such social pressure was the primary means of enforcing harmony (compliance) within the community. So, while she devoured these writings at every opportunity, re-reading, annotating, and even beginning to practice the magic that was so different, yet so similar, to the ranger spell she'd already learned... she did so in private, confiding only in her closest friend and teenage sweetheart, a boy called Taran. However, secrets are hard to keep when one has never been taught to keep them. To the present day, Florrick doesn't know which of her parents or siblings found her secret stash in a tree, but the sheer disappointment rolling off them in the days that followed was almost too much to bear. Although it felt a part of her went up in flames with the paper, desperate to please her family and the community that had before not only embraced, but celebrated her, Ren burned her contraband and publicly prostrated before the Elders, seeking forgiveness (i). Although the event left her rattled and humiliated, the discontent didn't go away, nor could she forget the knowing of just how small her world was.

(i) Florrick completely crashing and burning the moment she experiences the sensation of Failure is canon, and also is indicative of her status as a former Golden Child.

Some months later, a bedraggled female half-elf was intercepted by scouts and brought to the village center for questioning; fortunately, she had energy enough to prove that she was a Friend of the Forest. Jaheira, demoralized by the incomplete victory against Ketheric Thorm, had spent the time since escaping the shadow curse wandering aimlessly, and finally had decided to return to her druidic enclave to lick her wounds in peace and isolation. Judging her to be too weak in body and spirit to survive the difficult two-day hike to the enclave (if she even remembered where it was), Ren's family insisted on her spending some time recuperating with them at Florrick Dale. Too exhausted to resist, Jaheira complied with the invitation. These would become some of the most influential days in the future Counsellor Desiré Florrick's life. Drawn irresistibly to the world-weary and experienced Jaheira, Ren's hunger for a life beyond the forest came thundering back. Although Jaheira was reticent, Ren was persistent. Slowly, as the pair bonded (j), Jaheira opened up about her adventures in Baldur's Gate and Candlekeep and Athkatla --Ren wouldn't learn for some time more why Jaheira seemed so grieved, to tell that tale--and, finally, Reithwin. The action, the battles, the victories and losses were intoxicating, but what really spoke to Ren? It was the element of freedom. Of living one's life by their own moral compass. Of serving a good greater than one's immediate surroundings. Of working with, not fearing, peoples of all kinds. (k) It was an inflection point. Ren's eyes had been opened, and she couldn't close them again. There was a life outside of Florrick Dale and Tehthir, and it was worth knowing, and her desire to know it was too great to deny.

(j) Florrick/Jaheira REAL and specifically, Jaheira at about 45 years old being MILF-ified for the first time by a haughty early-20s Florrick is also real to me. (k) Why Jaheira? Generally, if I need to fill a significant role in a headcanon (in this case, person to encourage and inspire Florrick to explore the outside world), I will fill it with a canon character if I can, rather than crafting a new OC because I'm just not an OC guy.

[revserrayyu]

2.1 Penacony thoughts [part2]

**Spoiler warning** Covering up until we switch to Acheron’s POV alongside Welt (not their first conversation but actually playing as her, hence the cover photo), so be kind to yourself and look away if you haven’t reached that point yet. Brace yourself once more; I’m going to ramble.

First things first, this whole shrinking down scene where we traverse through a model of Penacony was so odd. Poor Ratio had to be rolling his eyes so hard just watching a tiny Aventurine run around like that.

I feel like we didn’t learn much about Sunday last patch, but hearing him speak about how orderly and presentable we should be at all times really fits his personality. The pretty boy certainly knows how to look good and leads me like him even more..

But only for a moment as he then uses some Harmony trickery against Aventurine so he’s forced to answer his several questions truthfully, or at least that’s the feeling I got from watching this interrogation. Seeing this was quite interesting to me because there’s this anime call No Guns Life where a character by the name Tetsuro has an ability called “harmonie” which allows him to control other extends (robots basically) and they way the anime shows it looked very familiar with all the color.

Moving on, Sasuke Uchiha vibes are coming in strong with our gambler being a potential sole clan survivor, not to mention Aventurine admitting his love toward his family is something he values more than himself. Also, I don’t like this bird.. sitting there, keeping an eye on everything, even during Aventurine’s chat with Sparkle later on. I know the Family has a big Nightingale theme going on but still. Big Brother (or in this case the Family) always watching hm?

NOPE. Any small hope I had for Sunday being someone we could safely trust has flown straight out the window with this sinister smirk of his, no matter how handsomely good it makes him look here.

I love that no matter what is going on or who he’s talking to, Ratio always manages to mildly insult others without a care in the world.

So stuff about the Cornerstones gets revealed, how all Ten Stonehearts have one of their own and how very important said stones are to them, so what on earth was Aventurine doing with both his and Potaz Pazto Topaz’s? Also found it interesting how closely hers resembles Qlipoth’s body when she isn’t a Preservation unit like Aventurine is.

Sunday then gives Aventurine only 17 system hours to live and he has to spend it solving Robin’s case with little to no outside help or hints on where to begin. Talk about immense pressure. Let my man gamble in peace!

And if all that wasn’t enough to make me start feeling bad for our fancy man, we get a sad backstory featuring his sister and even learning how both their parents died! Because OF COURSE they’re setting me up to get upset about him for some reason later on in the story and now I’m so terrified because if I learned anything from anime it’s that these kinds of flashback are major red death flags.

The feeling of joy came back to me though upon seeing Topaz show up. Despite Aventurine being around and all the mentions of the IPC, I honestly wasn’t expecting her to visit Penacony at all, but I’m very pleased to see her again! She definitely grew on me after that one quest in Belobog and even though she doesn’t have access to most places on Penacony like her coworker currently does, it’s nice she’s willing to lend a helping hand to us.

It doesn’t settle well with me that none of the Bloodhounds know who Gallagher is. Ain’t he supposed to be top dog around here and in charge?

Oh red text, why must you haunt me so easily? Imagine how different all of Penacony would feel if we had the option to completely turn off subtitles. People would definitely have various opinions regarding Acheron if they knew of her ominous words or not.

I wanna chalk this up as a HI3 reference, but I can’t be sure as I’ve never played. If so, I love how they can toss in hints about Welt’s past like this.

And hers.. I imagine bits and pieces would line up with her past one way or another too.

A little while after that, we cut back to Black Swan and y’all, we FINALLY get some sort of Boothill interaction in the story! Only audio for now but I’ll take it!

Hearing about bullets, him getting annoyed about Acheron being a “galaxy ranger” and the Hunt path are wonderful ways to confirm who it is and I can’t wait to eventually see him in game.

Seems like he isn’t too thrilled with Acheron though and of course, he too knows of her Emenator status. There goes my brief hopes of them being in friendly terms and seeing them work together I suppose.

This item that Ratio gives Aventurine before he suddenly disappears (again) and how it features one of his voicelines.. hilarious. It’s like it was spoken specifically for Aventurine and no one else.

I may be a little stupid.. do we know who the other mute is? The one dead is clearly Robin, but surely the other can’t be Sunday right? He spoke perfectly fine. I’m thinking back to all the Penacony characters we’ve met and they all sound fine, aside from Sam but he’s robotic so naturally he would sound a bit different yea? Maybe we haven’t met this other mute yet, I dunno. The “again” part of Sparkle’s line makes me feel like we have met them at least once.

Sweetie, how the fuck did you manage to sneak such a dangerous device into Penacony?? Even Aventurine is concerned about how the Family doesn’t know of it.

Okay.. so the whole flashback with Aventurine being bought as a slave and used to gamble for his master is tough. I know many people speculated what the mark on his neck said, and majority did think “slave” was written, but man, the hint didin’t make this story any easier to hear. Being blessed with luck ain’t always a good thing hm? Hearing the guy say “all or nothing” and learning from Topaz about how that phrase is now Aventurine’s mantra.. oh boy.

Siobhan is gorgeous and if she was playable I’d definitely pull for her.

SERVAL MENTION HUZZAH! I’m aware they mentioned my girl during the livestream and how they’re both the rebellious ones in their respective families, but Siobhan actually wanting to meet her? Oohhh~

Okay but the fact we’re encountered so many deaths, during the many story and side quests, in a short amount of time shouldn’t be normal. The way he seems so indifferent about it too.. “so what?” like sir, people are dying.

Oh, we did indeed receive one as well. That was the invitation, wasn’t it? I thought the music box Acheron stole from Duke was something different and special for different reasons. Nevermind.

I seriously need to check back into the creepy dream we experienced last time after Sparkle knocked us out, where we encountered that memory zone meme and listen to all the shouting we heard of this Mikhail guy. I figured he had to be someone important, but the Watchmaker and betrayer of the Family? Oh dear.

I bet you anything it’s Misha. Working behind the scenes in the hotel this entire time would definitely be an effective strategy, and his technique outside battle literally stops time and that seems like the perfect kind of ability for someone named “Watchmaker.”

Gallagher wondering if this certain person is real or not is another reason I think it’s Misha because apparently no one notices his presence at all. During that one scene with us, Firefly, Acheron, Misha & Clockie last past, the girlies didn’t acknowledge Misha at all. Only us and Clockie spoke to the boy. In return, Clockie is only seen by us and Misha as well. So that’s just strange.

For a moment I wonder if Misha is actually like.. a ghost of sorts and we’re just going insane seeing visions of people and cartoon characters everywhere. But that’s all stuff I shall find out later. Hopefully. If the story decides to answer my many concerns.

(originally written on 3/28)

[mmmmulbery]

Honestly fine the world they deserve everything I am the Wataei guy I will never not be the wataei guy I genuinely can not see them with other people in my head that's just not an option but polyfine is the exception polyfine I can allow myself to vibe with from time to time because they all care so much about each other they are all so special to each other as a unit and as friends and as family and the toriwata relationship is so important actually because Eichi and Tori are like the only two people we know of who have canonically made Wataru cry and with Eichi it was more implied it was still in the text but it was more implied the Neverland phonecall you will always be famous and in the climax event they have such a sweet conversation about allowing yourself to feel certain emotions and in those little bkubstars comics where Tori and Watarus are like,, partners in crime,,, planning mischief,,,and Yuzuru always caring for tori and babying him a little which he evebtually stops doing to a Largw extent and he gets to focus more in himself but he still cares for tori not just as a butler but also as a friend and Tori oh he cares so mcuh for yuzuru he was so sad when he thought Yuzuru left when he was sent to that military orphanage and I am so scared of what would happen if he ever found out and he has to find out eventually because that is a Huge thing to have going on with a family and he'll feel so bad head in hands he'll be so devastated but right now that's not the point the point is they all care so much for yuzuru like in tempest they like seeing him do his own stuff also they might meddle a bit but it's from a place of caring and Yuzuru Fushimi the beloved <3333

And the eitori relationship is soooo important too Eichi not wanting Tori to get disillusioned with the idea of him and feeling so bad about not being as perfect as tori thought and feeling so guilty because he thinks Tori woild be disappointed by the real.him and Tori seeing eichi as some stabdard to live up to and idolizing him and wantinh to be like him and eventually accepting that he can't be like eichi as matter how hard he tries so he'll just have to be the best version of himself but he still sees Eichi as a role model of sorts and they both help each other understand things better and Eichi getting chewed out my Wataru and Yuzuru that one time he made Tori cry and head in hands Tori is so good he is such a sweet kid really he works so hard and he deserves the world I want to eat him

IT TOOK SOOO MUCH FOR ME TO POST THIS i wanted to keep this forever in my inbox so i could just look at it and fondly think of fine but i think its important to share with the world actually HAHAHA. YOUR LOVE IS SOOOS STRONG sunshine u are literally sunshine .

Gods ur so right but also i fear tori may know HAHA in my hearts of hearts tori is the beating heart of fine and he knows that to an extent himself - that he pretends to not see the bruises the way they treat themselves because he knows if he breaks they break in their own ways. Like u said yes!! Yes!! Whatever happened in tempest - tori may not know the full story but he knows something happened and he. He's so so strong when he says he'll wait. He can wait, he loves them anyways. I auuvhh youre so right. LAUGHS SO HARD THANK YOU YEAH WHITE BRIM TOOK ME OUT. eichi fake dead on the floor tori sobbing over him almost a full on confession I know, i Know you arent the person you want me to believe you are - i know that, I may not know all of it but i know, and i love you regardless. Its so strong its so. A heart that loves knows and knows how to break and tori himemiya you are so beautiful. I think wataru should knock eichi over the head more for all he does i think them giving us the implication of wataru having dinner at toris place is so so strong you talked about how wataru used to refuse to eat in front of people the beauty of loving someone and not realizing the extent of it yet but knowing regardless you have a place to return to wataru hibiki

[miyokomadness]

Ok here is my review of Feathers of the Fallen Chapters 1-4. From what I’ve seen thus far your story has me interested and I’ll be sticking around for chapter 5. There is plenty room for improvement if you decide to come back and revise it but we’ll get to that later. Before getting to the feedback I’ll tell you what I liked about it. The setting of the story reminded me of the United States we see in the Wolfenstein series (in the sense of a highly controlled and militarized civilization) and being a fan of the video games this immediately got me invested. The concept of a wing virus is an idea I’ve never heard before. There’s a mysterious aura around it as we don’t yet know how it spreads or how it emerged in the first place and I would encourage you to continue to build on this mystery throughout the story. Secondly it doubles as irony to a Christian nation as the infected refer to themselves as angels and yet they are hunted. As a Christian I’d love to see you build upon this idea. A first person narrator is an interesting choice for telling this story. Taking into account the initial brutal setting and receiving her wings I’m wondering how and when the mc is sitting down to write this story. The foreshadowing you give in the beginning of chapter 1 offers possibilities to such a thought but no certainties and I applaud you for that! Finally, I can see that you potentially sprinkled aspects of yourself and personal life onto Seraphine. Not much more for me to add on it, I just like when writers do that.

Feedback

A quick disclaimer before reading my feedback. I would encourage you to continue writing the story and its entirety before acting upon any of this. It’s good to get it all on paper. The advice and recommendations I’m sharing is, as stated, improvements for the editing and revision phase. Also I’m no published author, I’m just someone who’s been writing for a long time and knows a thing or two. Everything I’m giving you is my personal thoughts, do what you will with them.

The overarching gripe I had while reading your story is that it moves far too fast. In the 1st chapter we are given an exposition about the current state of the world, we are introduced to Seraphine, her family, the wing virus, and that they’re infected. In the 2nd chapter Seraphine gets her wings, we are introduced to an entirely new cast of characters and the idea of leaving already pops up. In chapter 3 Seraphine does leave her home, we get a lengthy backstory exposition from her and the group finds the angel hideout. Finally, chapter 4 is actually very well paced, good job here.

I feel what happened (PLEASE CORRECT ME IM WRONG) in chapters 1 through 3 is a classic case of excitement. You were excited to write a certain section so you speed your way to that section. Absolutely nothing wrong with that, I’m guilty of doing the same thing. However, this story telling, speaking from the perspective of one of your readers does come across as rushed and half baked. Again you may be fully aware of this but another option never hurts. Solutions to fix this are as follows, I’ll be going chapter by chapter…

The main piece of advice I present to you in chapter 1 is SHOW don’t TELL. For example the exposition you give on how the untied states got to where it is now…“8 and a half months ago, the US. government had fallen so low into debts, military shortages, and apparently “things us children shouldn’t be concerned with.” During that time, a government rose, claiming the entire United States in a matter of weeks. Nobody was there to stop them. We didn’t have the resources or anything to battle them with”…all of this is tell and you want to avoid it as much as possible because it kills imagination. Put simply you did all the thinking for me leaving me with nothing to speculate or question because you gave me all the answers…boring. I want you to try this instead and you’re gonna have to put on your acting hat. Put yourself in the mc’s shoes and live out the first day of chapter 1 moment by moment, action by action, and emotion by emotion. Then describe what the mc sees on paper. The journey she has from her house to school is potential world building. What kind of cars are there? Are there military grade vehicles patrolling the street? Are there billboards anywhere? If there are what do they say? These small details mean everything over the course of an entire story. You can also use the classroom for world building. Instead of telling us what the world is like via narration have the teacher TEACH the reader what the world is like. Another thought to ponder is, if the narrator is writing this story within their world. Wouldn’t it be fair for her to assume that the reader already knows some of the history? Additionally I encourage that you don’t share everything. You could just have the teacher teach us a one sided history lesson. Leaving out details such as how this new government treats different ethnicities and identity. Branding it as the perfect nation, where Seraphine’s everyday life begs otherwise (all of this is just an example). In a nutshell, not everything has to make sense in the first few chapters. That’s what the rest of the book is for. You leave the reader with questions so they have a reason to turn the page.

The things that happen in chapter 2 I personally think should not happen in the second chapter. I would recommend at least 1 maybe 2 more chapters dedicated to developing the mc and her parents as well as other people in her life before the wings emerge from her back. By doing this you would make the decision of leaving more difficult for the mc and more impactful on the reader. Essentially I don’t care about any of these people because I’m not given enough time to connect with them. Here are some things you could possible include in an extra chapter…

- running errands with Papa and Dad (further seeing how they interact with one another)

- Flat bike tire (slashed as an act of bullying?) how will dad or papa react?

- Another school day (more time to spend with Gregory and Mae maybe?)

Continuing on the discussion of chapter 2 the image of the wings bursting out of her back is gnarly, credit where it is due. I would have liked to see scenes dedicated towards what Seraphine’s life was like hiding the wings at home. Secondly I’d like to call out a continuity error mentioned in chapter 2. Maddie says and I quote “There’s been chatter of a complex in northern Maine for Angelicals to reside safely.” Is the government hunting these things or not? If this chatter traveled from northern Maine to Portland, Oregon (I’m assuming) I highly doubt it’s safe now so why travel? I’m not saying get rid of it but have Sera ask this question because it’s a plot hole. The solution could simply be Maddie responding with something along the lines of “we still have better odds if we leave”

Apologies if I seem like I’m skimming through this now, my brain is starting to shut down but I promised myself I’d get this to you tonight lol. Secondly I also apologize if my words from this point on are more harsh…I’m just tired. I know you said chapter 3 was your favorite so forgive me when I say that it was my least favorite of the 4. My first reason for this is that everything was far too easy. For a nation actively hunting for Angels and trying to prevent the spread of the infection, just getting onto that train should have been a living nightmare. I refuse to believe that 4 kids with baggy oversized sweaters got onto a train, and successfully rode it from Portland, Oregon ALL the way to northern Maine without anyone battling an eye. Forgive my language, it’s bullshit. There is no tension in a scene that has the perfect circumstance to put me on the edge of my seat. I strongly recommend that you make this journey the most terrifying and tense thing these characters have ever experienced. The second reason for my opinion is the fnaf section. I have no issue with the mere inclusion of it…I fucking love fnaf. By all means write whatever you want, that’s the beauty of writing. I will warn you though that the downside is you won’t be able to publish this as book because it contains copyrighted characters. Unless…you as the legend himself for permission (fazbearhelp@yahoo.com) good luck. The main gripe I had with this section is that it too was incredibly rushed and just all over the place. There was so much information in such a short amount of time that I can’t really form a confident opinion on Seraphine’s backstory because I have no idea what is happening. I’ll likely re-read it and send you a follow up message.

Alright, I’d like to close out with saying once again that I did genuinely enjoy reading your story and I am invested. Despite all the negative Nancie’s, I’m giving you my unfiltered opinion because I care about this story…if my 3-4 paragraphs of text didn’t make it obvious. If there is any confusion within this review or any extra questions you have or if you ever want a secondary opinion please don’t be afraid to ask. Happy writing and thank you for the story! I’m going to bed.

Ahhhh thank you so much for this feedback! I will admit, I do have trouble with pacing things, and I always feel like I move things a bit too fast. This was the absolute best feedback I could have ever gotten! Thank you so much!

I do plan on someday trying to publish this story, and what I will do to fix the issues is that I will change up characters names, appearences, a bit of their personalities, and the setting where Seraphine and Mae grew up to better fit the trackline.

Also, I do thank you for the chapter 3 feedback! I feel it was my favorite because of the backstory sequence, and I feel I can strengthen it by loosening it. I do heavily appreciate your opinion though, it's very needed! I do think that chapter 5 will have to be reworked with this feedback in mind, which will delay it a bit, and I thank you so much because this will make my story stronger and will make everything so much easier to read for people!

I am going into the wilderness for about two weeks, so this will give me lots of time to edit and add a few more chapters and put your advice into play.

Again, thank you SO MUCH this is the absolute best feedback and most in depth reading of the story I have ever gotten. I feel nothing bad towards you feedback, just places you have targeted as my weak points and that if I improve on them, it will make my stories easier to read for people.

I'm going to bed as well, goodnight!

[memerella]

harry potter headcanons/concepts/aus that i LOVE

- first of all, my FAVORITE ships:

- drarry (i mean, c'mon, its so obvious it hurts)

- i liked ginny x harry, bc i like ginny a lot, BUT GINNY X PANSY?! at the edge of my seat, screaming, crying, throwing up

- love me my ronmione, but i also like ace!hermione, being way too focused on her career and her passions than even think about a relationship

- blaise x neville (x luna?)

- ron x lavender

- wolfstar

- i love jily sm but i also love james x lily x regulus?????

- harry is half indian (the potters being indian) tbh i never imagined him that way while growing up and seeing daniel radcliff as harry. but the more i got into the fandom on tumblr, the more i feel in love with this concept.

it somehow makes so much more sense??? not only bc representation matters, but also the hate he got in his early life. harry grew up at the dursleys, in a middle class neighborhood in 1980 England. And all i'm trying to say with that is:

Discrimination against people of Indian origin in the United Kingdom has a long history.

Starting in the late 1960s and peaked during the 1970s and 1980s, Indians and other racial minority groups living in the United Kingdom were the victims of racist violence and they were often subjected to physical violence by supporters of far-right, anti-immigration and racist political parties.

(Wikipedia)

i can imagine vernon and his sister were THE perfect candidates for being racist twats. vernon hated harry and his father for being wizards, but why would marge hate him THAT MUCH? she didnt know harry and his family were magical. i think it would make so much sense she hated them for not being white and vernon hated them for it too (god, i really hate them sm)

also, i always thought it was so weird that not a single teacher/adult/ANYONE saw little harry being abused??? not only the bruises he got from dudley (and prop vernon too), but also his malnourished body, his way too big clothes, his broken glasses, etc. they never questioned this or gave a single fuck. maybe they never gave a fuck, bc why should they? its just a dirty indian kid anyways and besides, they all look like this, dont they??? 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ i fucking hate racist people so much

- talking about racist people. black hermione is the single greatest thing and i can't believe theres still a debate out there, that she cant be black bc "emma watson is my forever hermione". y'all are just lil twats, go away 😒

- harrys scar being way more different than in the movies/early book covers

i loooove the concept of harry having a scar like an actual lightning bolt. bc first, it would indicate, that surviving the (powerful) killing curse would take a huge toll on a body.

second, it would look like an actual wound that magic could achieve.

i googled 'lichtenberg scars', scares that people got from actually being struck by a lightning bolt (or super high electricity).

they dont look natural at all, which makes them so unique and special and would fit the only surviving person of the avada kedavra curse. it also would explain why people would always ask harry to see his scar and why they were so fascinated about it (i know they want to see it bc of voldie and shit, but i think you get my point).

and third, it would look badass as fuck ngl

- i love scars in general. especially harrys lightning scar, but also rons tentacle-like scars he got in book 5. or dracos sectumsempra scars. or hermiones 'mudblood' scar. generally, i love fanarts or fanfics where they are visible or depicted. and the characters having to live with and accepting them.

- i'm a sucker for drarry fics, where harry sees dracos scars that he caused for the first time, how shocked and embarrassed he is for causing so much harm. apologizing profusely for them and draco beeing slightly overwhelmed by harrys behavior. (if you have recommendations for such fics, pls tell me).

- i've once red a fic where draco and hermione modified the scar bellatrix left on her by changing the word mudblood into "my blood is magic". i got goosebumps reading this, bc it felt so empowering somehow. but i also like the thought of hermione leaving the word by how it is, to remind anyone out there, what she's been through and what a powerful badass witch you can become, even tho you dont have magical parents.

- harrys "you must not lie" scar is also one of my favorites and i LOVE when people include it in fanfics. especially when there's a debate about the corrupt and twisted power of the ministry and crazy ideologies and harry just slams his hand on the table and starts ARGUING, leaving everyone silent lol

- harry having another lightning scar on his body, this time over his heart, when voldemort attempted to kill him the second time in the forest.

- draco covering up his deatheater tattoo, by putting flowers over/around it, to symbolize he'd grown.

- magical tattoos. tattoos that move around your body. harry having fr a tiny dragon tattoo, which 'flys' around his skin.

- harry beeing way more powerful after the war. i mean, he's the master of death after all??? he took down the most powerful wizard of all time??? now he has a crazy magical aura around him. he can cast wandless magical more effortlessly. when he gets angry, he lets out accidental magic, messing with electricity, the wind etc.

- harry renovating the black house. him finally getting rid of walpurgas portrait and the other gruesome decoration. draco helping him, bc he's a black afterall and knows a few tricks and spells. also draco and harry researching and explaining magical houses. kreacher is helping them too. the black house getting warm and cozy, after all those years.

- draco and harry getting together and harry is showing him the perks of the muggle world. draco discovering television, electricity, planes, science in general (later smartphones, video games etc). him being FASCINATED about it, wanting to learn more and more. (what do you MEAN, muggles were ON THE MOON??? THEY CAN TRAVEL IN SPACE??? WTF POTTER?!) draco discovering what an atomic bomb is, having an existencial crisis about it (i can't believe muggles have more power than US? could we even STOP a bomb like this? surely you can , Potter 🙄)

- draco dragging his slytherin friends into the muggleworld.

- pansy being EXCITED to discover luxury brand like gucci, prada n shit. her wanting to study fashion and becoming a famous designer in the wizarding AND muggle world (muggles being like HAVE YOU SEEN PANSYS NEW DRESS?! IT LOOKS LIKE MAGIC FR)

- ginny becoming a famous quidditch star, always showing up at parties with the finest haute couture, showing off and promoting pansys newest designs (pansy loves her for it)

- blaise getting caught up too into the fashion/celebrity/influencer/gossip world. maybe becoming a famous art critique? or a journalist? him exposing people he dosnt like? love that shit fr

- goyle being fascinated about muggle sports, especially rugby and american football. him dragging draco, harry and ron into various matches and talking non stop about his favorite teams and players. harry finally convincing him to just do it himself. goyle actually doing it and having the time of his life.

- goyle dragging drarry to his first victory party with his teammates. harry, to his HORROR, seeing dudley again after all those years (what do you MEAN HARRY, BIG D IS YOUR COUSIN?!?)

- harry and dudley reconciling. i have many thoughts about this, but i really love the idea of a redemption arc for dudley. maybe dudley having a daughter, who is also a witch and him loving her with his whole heart and wanting to understand every problem and struggle she might face in the wizarding world. him cutting of contact with his father. visiting harry, notebook in hand, to remember every detail.

- harry never really told him about this, but after his daughter came home after her first year in hogwarts, he finally learns what harry had actually been through. him FLABBERGASTED when she handed him a book about the second great wizarding war, with a moving picture of harry on its cover (daddy, why have you never told me we are related to the savior? - the... WHAT????)

- Hermione becoming the minister of magic. FINALLY a competent witch, someone who's trying to make the world a better place (also harry backing her up, intimidating everyone who dares to be a bitch about it). a few things i think she would do:

- setting the elves free for real, giving them free healthcare, new jobs, an access to schools, housing etc. telling them about dobby and his story

- also, more freedom and rights for other magical beings, like merefolk, centaurs, goblins, giants and WEREWOLVES!!!

- giving elves and goblins wands???!!!

- a new school system where muggle studies is a MUST, bc how can you teach kids and NOT tell them of the rest of the non-magic world??? do they even know electricity? planes? science? how can you get rid of hate and stereotypes otherwise?

- teaching kids and adults how to dress in the muggle world lmao

- the more the people learn about science and shit, the more they could experiment? imagine a world where potions and chemistry would go hand-in-hand. wizards discovering what molecules and atoms are and researching like crazy. them learning how to incorporate technology with magic. (free wifi at hogwarts???) a fascinating concept for me.

- rita skeeter and dolores umbridge getting finally behind bars. I WANT JUSTICE

- Harry being an auror is cool, but after all he's been through, i can imagine he wouldnt want to be one for long. i think it would be so nice to become a teacher at hogwarts. defence against the dark powers would suit him sm. also, he could teach students something about unity, wizard and muggle relations, how to detect bigotry and propaganda, how to stand up for themselves etc

- draco becoming either a healer at st. mundos or a professor at hogwarts

- mcgonagall working hand-in-hand as head master with hermione, making hogwarts SAFE again

- draco having his trial after the battle of hogwarts. him being exhausted, ashamed, traumatized af. him not expecting and not wanting any mercy. the ministry also not wanting any mercy, bc fuck them deatheaters. them being astounded after harry waltzed into the court room, explaining that he, harry potter, will be dracos lawyer and DEMANDING him to be freed (who can say no to the savior)

- harry and his gang having fucking therapy after the war, please and thank you

- harry finally recognizing all the fucked up shit dumbledore has done to him and being ANGRY about it

- love me some good old dumbledore slander (fuck him)

- love the idea of draco being part veela

- draco growing out his hair after the war

- harry and draco getting together at their eight year at hogwarts. them talking about so many things, including the part in the forest where he died (again). draco being mortified (you. you are the master of death? are you kidding me? i thought it was only a tale for children ffs. harry wtf)

- neville is trans (f->m) 🥰

- blaise is non-binary 🤭

- luna is also non-binary, my lil bean 💕

- i am now - and will forever be - into denial that fred weasley actually died, i simply refuse the mere idea. for all i care, he lives happily ever after with george and they both die when the are 200 years old. you're very welcome btw (i remember crying and throwing my book away after i've read this scene, you cant do this to me)

[wastedawayagaininmargaritaville]

I'm just curious, so please don't mind me asking.. why interest in the Green Party? I'm trying to better understand this viewpoint as I've voted democratic in the last 2 elections. I was always told a third party vote wasn't a sure thing.

Thanks for your reply!

Hi! First I don’t mind you asking and I’m sorry if the way I post makes it seem like I’d jump down your throat for a question like this. I use my blog to blow off a lot more steam than I used to but it’s not how I want to approach things in general.

I should mention I’m registered to vote in MO, the last time the dem presidential nominee won was the 90s I believe (McCain won very narrowly over Obama in 2008) and we are a winner take all state. As long as the electoral college exists, I’m “throwing away my vote” unless I vote for the republican nom. The blue cities scattered across the midline of the state don’t have enough weight (at least not in my lifetime they haven’t)

If you mean “wasn’t a sure thing” as in it has been a successful way to elect someone who isn’t one of the two parties, yeah I’d say that’s an understatement. I have little faith in a third party running in our electoral process and actually gaining enough momentum and support to win. People talk all the time about how gen Z is one of the largest and most politically engaged generationsin a while, but we don’t have the electoral organizing experience (nor desire tbh, at least for me and lots of people I know) and certainly not the resources.

The only sort of caveat I guess would be a dem taking on the Green Party nom as their VP, but that requires sacrificing most of what is typically on the Green Party platform and I would consider them compromised anyway.

The pipeline post was what I have done and I was wondering how common it is for people in my general demographic (young adult, raised liberal and middle class) who were brought up being taught the Democrat Party is a beacon of progress and the only thing regular people have to fight for the rights we want for ourselves and the people in our communities is to vote for them once every 4 years.

Then…

To be served the Clinton dynasty for our first chance to vote as 18 year olds, become totally disillusioned by the 2016 election (I was too young to remember the 2000 election), becoming radicalized and opened up to the world throughout late teens/early 20s by going away to school or simply meeting more people and viewpoints that aren’t from your parents/family/immediate community, living through and beginning to organize during the 2020 uprising, feeling a slight pull back into the dem party by Sanders and then seeing how the establishment pushed him out, and then saying fuck it my (albeit still shaky and developing) principles won’t allow me to hold my nose and vote again but I guess I like the green party’s platform. That’s honestly as much thought as I put into voting for the Green Party in 2020, i googled their platform and said ok this sounds nice, I won’t entirely feel gross with myself throwing my hat in with people who want to enact this. Reading that back feels very silly and simply an act of wishful thinking. But I couldn’t bring myself to vote for the champion of segregation and the crime bill after what I learned and witnessed in the streets in 2020.

Now we’ve seen what the democrats can and will do for us (very little) and importantly to the world (destruction, extraction, destabilization) I know too much now to delude myself into thinking these parties are functionally different from each other. I know too many people impacted by BOTH party’s policies to throw them under the bus. I understand more clearly what it means to be a citizen of the United States and what it means to vote in a country with so much influence and presence in other countries that I’m basically casting a vote on behalf of those people too.

But again, it doesn’t matter who I vote for where I live. If I was in a swing state I’d maybe be slightly more engaged with the electoral discourse but I don’t have a dog in the fight.

Hope this answers your question or at least gives you some stuff to think about. I didn’t wake up one day after being raised by Obama-loving liberal white people for most of my life saying “fuck the democrats and fuck voting!” It took time, experience, and pushing myself outside of the ideas that comfort me into denying my (and your) agency and power. We can accomplish so so much more life saving and politically altering work expending our energy the other 1,460 days of the election cycle than any candidate or electoral system in the US will grant us.

[deputygonebye]

@hauntcdsouls asked: ❝ help is on the way. ❞

"Help" Starters! || Judith Grimes

Always had Shane been there for Judith. A guardian angel, hidden behind trees or just near to her within a crowd of their beloved family and friends. Painful as it had been, it was decided that the best life for Judith was one where he wasn't in it. More so a ghost - much had been lost and gained for the sake of that little girl - to protect her. There was no Lori within the pages of Judith's story. A mother, but not the sort that was known best. A father, but not Shane. There were too many dangerous groups claiming territory for their own. Raiders who stopped at nothing to get what was wanted most; crimes that were disavowed to selfishly save already damned souls. It wasn't a life that Judith deserved to live. Was one that Shane was too tangled within, between natural father and daughter, space was necessary. Shane couldn't know her. And all the same, Judith couldn't begin to know of him.

But that didn't cease what small interaction that could still be had. Safe with family that loved her deeply, under the guise of something else would Shane visit Judith. Her and the rest of the Grimes household - Michonne and RJ - a longtime friend come to discuss matters of political and intimate importance. Shane couldn't stay away from the little girl he loved. Impossible was the very thought, the baby that he had once held in his arms never strayed from his heart even for a moment. Despite all the years and days apart, Judith not aware of the truth, she was loved beyond measure. Adored from great distance and missed more than could be described; Shane longed for the day when secrets could be revealed. Hoped for it, prayed for it beneath the stars of night, allowed for it to drive every reason and purpose of his. It was what drove him, then, into an ambush just outside of the Commonwealth.

A unit of crazed and brutal survivors, accents that sounded clear of California, their numbers were barely five but ever did they try to breach the walls and pillage. It was a mission doomed to failure. Quickly did their bodies drop to the ground by the bullets of soldiers. Shane's own gun aimed within his hands, damage had been done by he, too, before all of the dust settled. Daryl's hand just as prepared - Judith and he come to see what the trouble was - the gate opened but the destruction not quite over. Blood seeped into the cotton of his shirt, it was with heavy breath that Shane came to see himself shot in the side. Pierced by the talented luck of one of the dead gunslingers, just below the ribs, gravel road was all that caught him once he fell, an exhausted heap of man. The punishment for wanting to see his daughter, his friends, before too long passed by.

Heard before she was actually seen, Shane gazed up in amazement at the sight of Judith as she crouched low beside him. Gentle but firm, she wasn't afraid nor spoke as if she delivered lies, a sense of false promises. Every bit a good leader that her father expected, barely could the throb of his wound be felt. Shane's attention wasn't focused upon it. Concentrated on anything but, the warmth of Judith's eyes and the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, a smile that mirrored Lori's and a heart that overflowed in kindness. She was beautiful. The most precious thing that Shane had ever seen - his entire life and love.

"Did you get hit? Are you hurt?" Shane asked with a groan, his back flat to the Earth and held still. Urge to grab hold of her and inspect for himself restrained, fingers that wanted to grasp Judith's hand remained at his side, motionless and alone. Skeletons in the closet could not be unveiled. Not then, not yet.

Shane said, tongue tasting copper, "think only one of their bullets hit. I don't feel pain nowhere else. Their gunmen were beginners at best. Thank God above you and Daryl came out when you did. Who knows what those idiots would've done. My name's Shane. You're Judith, aren't you? Judith Grimes?"

[triviareads]

On Culture, Diaspora, and Kantara

I watched Kantara (2022) over Thanksgiving after hearing about it for weeks from my family and friends, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. It's a film that is particularly meaningful to me because my mother's side of the family hails from the region it was set in, Namely, Dakshina Kannada or the old South Canara in the state of Karnataka, India. This is where where bhoota kola is still practiced to this day.

The truth was, despite this movie being set in the land of my ancestors, I could relate very little on a physical level: These were rural villagers with minimal education living in a system of near-feudalism. I am.. not. Even the language was unfamiliar. My Kannada vocabulary can get me by when it comes to day-to-day activities, and it is insufficient if I want to consume Kannada media. In addition, because the dialect (or the accent) was true to the region, it made it more difficult for me to comprehend it. Neither my mother nor grandmother speak with the accent characteristic to the area (although they can if they want to communicate with locals), and even my father, who is not from the area but still from Karnataka, had to rely on subtitles.

There was also a matter of the culture itself. The thing about the aspects of the Dakshina Kannada culture shown in this film (kambala, boota kola) is that you'd only really be exposed to it if you lived in the area, or someone took the effort to purposefully educate you. That is because it is more of a folk culture. While I can say I am familiar with another local folk art, yakshagana (a form of dance-drama), that is because I grew up with stories of my great-grandfather, a noted yakshagana artist who brought his troop to the United States to tour. In addition, the practice of bhoota kola is not quite a part of the Hindu tradition I was raised in, specifically the Kannada Madhwa Brahmin tradition. I've read that bhoota kola and the notion of daivas is likely is a tradition practiced in the region long before Hinduism arrived.

To hear my mother matter-of-factly say that kambala (Buffalo races) and cock fights and bhoota kola occurred in her coastal village was startling. I suppose the reason she never mention it before was because she never actively went to kambalas (women from "good" families didn't go to events where there were drunk men; so she only saw the processions and parades before the actual event). As for the actual practice of bhoota kola, my grandmother admitted that when she was in around sixth grade, she snuck out of her house in the night to watch the bhoota kola. The old ancestral home in Bramhavara where she grew up was large enough for no one to notice the comings and goings of one girl. At a friend's house, she witnessed the ritual dance, and at some point, an offering of a live rooster was made to the daiva. The rooster's head was promptly snapped off its body. Eventually, my grandmother grew scared, and ran back home.

Regardless of how much I related to the villagers themselves, by the end of the film, I felt like I had a deeper understanding of my own cultural roots not only because of the film itself, but because of the greater context my family members were able to provide. But I also felt a certain amount of sadness. The thing is, I don't live where these rituals are practiced. In my lifetime, I have seen the Bramhavara house demolished, and relatives move away from their ancestral villages. My own parents moved across continents. I don't have the connection to the land that I imagine my ancestors did. At best, I feel fondness and an attachment to where I grew up, but there is no holiness in that, and a part of me wonders if I am missing out on something. I know migration is a natural part of human history, and perhaps this is the truth for any member of any diaspora, but still... I can't help but wonder.

When I finished watching Kantara, I came away entertained, thoughtful, and moved in equal measure. I felt a renewal of faith in a time I sorely needed it, not only in the classical sense, but all those holy protectors tied to the land.