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#and I have SO many thoughts about diana and stephen

elisaphoenix13 · 1 year

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The Not So Secret Life Of Misfits

"Don't you guys have people to do this? Or at least have it delivered?"

Stephen sighs softly as America follows him down the bread aisle of the grocery store. She had mentioned that while he was not the same Stephen she had known, he was still who she was used to and was sticking to his side for the better part. It didn't bother him, especially since he was used to it with Valerie, and the little girl was more attached to him than America was being. America was still adjusting.

Suddenly having rich parents was definitely an adjustment. Stephen remembered how every single one of the boys had their own way of getting used to things.

"We usually have it delivered, but sometimes I need to pick up a couple of things and it's nice to get away from the chaos." Stephen finally answers as he grabs a few loaves of bread.

"So…I'm still a little confused. How many kids do you have?" America asks while leaning against the cart. She quickly decides to take it for a joyride instead and rides it up and down the aisle as Stephen looks at the bagels.

"Depends on what you mean." Stephen says.

"Well, I heard Tony call Cassie your kid but she doesn't stay upstairs with us. And then that girl…Kate? She comes over this morning and calls you Mom." America looks at him sheepishly when she accidentally runs the cart into Stephen's hip but he just puts his things into it.

It hadn't been the first time he was hit by a shopping cart. Peter was the first and the rest followed. Every single one of them decided at one point to take the cart for a joy ride and ran into him, except William and Valerie of course. Lucy hadn't yet but it was only a matter of time.

"In that case I have…" Stephen stops to think about it, counting under his breath. "Thirteen? Including you?"

America gapes at him. "What, so you have more?"

"Yes. They're called the Avengers." Stephen snorts, leading the way to the next aisle and leaving America to follow with the cart.

"I thought Bucky was joking when he called you Mom."

"It started off that way, but it sort of stuck."

"Do you like it? Being Mom?" America asks softly and Stephen looks at her after grabbing some cereal.

The question threw Stephen for a loop. Nobody had asked him the question. At least not directly. The closest anyone ever got to it was Peter and that was just to ask him if it was really okay to call Stephen "mom" after his slip up all those years ago. Now that he stopped to think about it for a moment, he couldn't see his life any differently. He loved his kids, his husband, even the Avengers. It was a family he didn't dare think of giving up for anything. It made him sympathetic to America's situation. The poor girl had bounced around countless universes until she heard of this one. One where she thought she could have a chance to have a family again.

And when they welcomed her with open arms, it left her reeling. Hence the questions.

"I do actually." He answers. "Does it bother you?"

America shakes her head immediately with wide eyes. "No! It's just…an adjustment compared to the you I knew. I don't feel like a burden here. Am I?"

"No." Stephen says immediately. "You're not a burden. Don't ever think you are. It took a lot of reassuring for the boys to not feel that way anymore when we took them in."

For the next few minutes, America follows him in comfortable silence as they shop, until they get to the dairy section.

"I know you said you come to get away from the chaos, but how come you brought all of the kids?" Just as the last word leaves America's mouth, Diana runs over with a bag of goldfish crackers, putting them in the cart when Stephen nods.

"Where's your sister?" Stephen asks.

"Sissy is coming. She saw you walk down here and said to go ahead. She said she needs to grab some toothpaste for Uncle Scott and Uncle Quill." Diana answers.

Stephen hums in acknowledgement and turns his attention back to America. "Because my kids scatter and find a snack they want. They don't cause trouble…at least not anymore."

"Oh…makes sense I guess. But not Lucy?"

"Lucy is content to stay at home with Tony and get covered in grease," Stephen rolls his eyes. "It's probably for the best anyway. She's very…energetic."

"Mom's just afraid that Lucy will climb the shelves and then jump off with that happy screech she has." Cassie elaborates when she walks over and America laughs.

"Yeah I did see her climbing the bookshelves the other day."

"We have to keep her away from the personal gym too," Thomas adds when he seemingly appears out of nowhere with white cheddar cheez-its and mumbles, "There was an incident with the pool."

Cassie powers his voice to say, "Lucy jumped in without a care in the world like she usually does. No life vest or floaties so she sank to the bottom immediately. We've…never seen Mom so freaked out."

"He jumped in after her before any of us could even react and kept her at his side for the rest of the day." Thomas adds. "We heard him having a nightmare that same night."

"He had a nightmare?" Cassie whispers.

Stephen froze while reaching out for some butter. Despite Cassie and Thomas's attempt to tell the story quietly, the sorcerer still heard their words and had to take a moment to collect himself. The pool incident was still fairly recent so it was still fresh in his mind, and it made his chest tighten. He had gone in after Lucy without a second thought and she had been unperturbed by the situation, but to Stephen, it was almost like reliving a memory.

A memory that still haunted him after almost 20 years when a similar situation arose. It happened before with Peter at the lake house, and now with Lucy at the pool…

"He's right here and he can hear you." Stephen sighs, finally tossing the butter into the cart. "America, why don't you find a snack you like?"

Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. "Really? Any snack?"

"Yeah! I always get the white cheddar cheez-its. They're like crack to me." Thomas cackles. "Will and Val get strawberries and whipped cream. They do everything and share everything together if Val isn't attached to Mom."

"I noticed. You know, when I first got here, I thought she was actually William's," America says and Stephen covers his face with his hand. "I was like, wow, talk about a teen dad, but then I realized…siblings. Would have thought Cassie and Diana were mother and daughter if the age wouldn't have been so weird."

Cassie blushes. "Oh geez, no. I helped Tony…raise her…but you know. I helped however I could since…the snap."

America nods. "Yeah…I was told about that. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"It's okay. I think we've all healed and moved on from it now." Cassie smiles.

"Sissy and I will help you find a snack!" Diana finally says after listening to the older kids converse with each other.

"Sure. I gotta see the weird foods here anyway."

Cassie laughs. "No, you gotta save the weird foods for when I drag Papa shopping. He saw cotton candy flavored grapes and had an aneurysm."

"Please take me on your next shopping trip with him," America laughs as she walks away with the girls.

In the meantime, Stephen finishes in the dairy aisle and leaves Thomas to push the cart after him as he leads them to the drinks. The kids wanted a movie night and so they needed drinks and popcorn, one of the reasons Stephen brought them with him. Harley and Peter were charged with finding the popcorn, but after that? He just prayed to the Vishanti that they really had grown out of their public shenanigans.

"Do you think coffee would make me travel at light speed?" Thomas asks and Stephen snorts.

"I'm sure your body metabolizes it faster than it can set in, but I still wouldn't want to risk it."

"Pietro taught me how to run through walls. He says the laws of physics don't always apply to us when we run. Like running on water or running through thin walls." Thomas explains. "Brick walls are still too hard for me."

Stephen glances at his son and raises an eyebrow. "Remind me to ground him when we get home. You should ask before testing anything like–"

"I did! I asked Dad! He set up some things we can try." Thomas reassures quickly.

Not that Stephen wasn't sure it was something to be relieved about. Tony was a fantastic father, but sometimes even his genius brain took a break and didn't think things through. But since Thomas had yet to come to him with a concussion, he assumed Tony and Pietro were being somewhat responsible.

With Lucy though, Stephen was still convinced that Tony had blown out her eardrums while working in the lab with her. Whether from blasting music or from blowing things up. But Bruce had checked out her ears for her and said Lucy was fine. Maybe the little girl just had selective hearing when it came to Stephen. She listened when he was stern, but usually if he asked her nicely to please not wipe her boogers on Levi, it went in one ear and out the other.

There was also the time she tried to climb the railing of the stairs just so she could slide down. Fortunately Rhodey had been visiting and put a stop to that pretty quickly.

"Just…please be careful." Stephen finally says. "I'd rather not have to use a jackhammer to dig my child out of bricks."

Thomas grins. "You might not have to. Pretty sure Yelena could headbutt a brick wall and make it crumble like sand."

"Speaking of Yelena, remind me to talk to her and Kate about their not so private…trysts." Stephen motions to some drinks for Thomas to grab and put on the bottom of the cart. "Your brother did one of those panic flusters when he walked in on them. Closed the door while he was still in the room and then apparently turned so red that a sunburn would have been jealous and teleported away."

"Was that the day he called from Japan?" Thomas bursts into laughter then yelps when Stephen smacks the back of his head. "I love him but he's such a ditz sometimes."

"Yelena thought it was hilarious too," Stephen drawls. "Now go round up the brood. I'm finished."

Thomas salutes. "Yes, sir!"

"And never do that again."

"Peter and Harley are right. It's fun to see you make that face." Thomas dodges Stephen's next swipe and jogs off hollering for his siblings, which makes Stephen rub the bridge of his nose.

The twins had certainly come out of their shells. And unfortunately that meant that their older brothers were rubbing off on them. At least William still had some modicum of respect for Stephen and Tony. He had his moments of sass but it was still in the respectable range. Thomas, on the other hand, was teetering dangerously on Harley's end of the spectrum. Even going so far as to run literal circles around their resident god.

Sometimes even Sam after he heard the story about how he and Steve first met. Sam was less than pleased with the outcome and Steve always got a good laugh out of it.

Stephen was fairly certain that Thomas used his speed to his advantage when he wasn't in view anymore, because the sorcerer was surrounded by all of the kids before he was even halfway to the front of the store. They were all chattering about at least three different subjects and none of them needed his immediate attention so he tuned them out. He simply pushed the cart to an open register, let the kids unload it onto the belt, and waited for the cashier to ring him up so he could pay and go home. Tea and that piece of chocolate cake he had put into the cart were starting to sound heavenly.

"Dude...I just found Peeps flavored Pepsi," Harley announces and Cassie laughs, taking it from him and putting it on the belt.

"Just when Papa thinks the grocery store won't traumatize him anymore." Cassie grins.

"Babe, that's savage." Peter laughs.

"Busy day, Dr. Strange?" The cashier asks and Stephen snorts humorously.

"Believe it or not, this is a calm day."

#mama bear au #supremefamily #stephen strange #america chavez #tommy shepherd #diana stark strange (oc)#cassie lang

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jreynoldsward · 1 year

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Bookshop link! And some blathering about my characters

Well, darn it, I can't get the new version of Life in the Shadows to load correctly into Bookshop!

(If you see a version of it there with a different cover, it's the old version and no longer valid)

Oh well.

In any case, I Have An Announcement. All of the Martiniere books are now connected to Bookshop, so if you want to pick up a paperback copy of those books instead of the ebook version, it's now available if you don't want to go through the Big River. I've also organized the books by separate series, so they're easier to find.

As I finish loading the Netwalk Sequence books into Ingram Spark, I'll be adding them to the Bookshop listing.

Bookshop link.

And if you want to get Life in the Shadows in paperback, it's available on Amazon or Barnes and Noble. Soon as I get the Bookshop list fixed, I'll be adding that link. But don't forget, it's on sale for $2.99 at all ebook vendors.

At some point I want to talk about some insights I gained about the mother-daughter relationship by reading Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings's Blood of My Blood. It has some interesting perspectives on a parent who dedicates her whole life to ensuring her daughter has a better life than she does...only for said daughter to rebel and not marry as well as the mother had hoped.

But that's a big undercurrent of the entire Netwalk Sequence--the relationship between mothers and daughters, and how even the best intentions can skew awry. Especially when mothers and daughters are not just political but business competitors. While that sums up the relationship between Sarah and Diana (the breakdown of which we see happening in Shadows), to some extent we see it with Diana and Melanie as well. Melanie and Bess, however, start trying to break the pattern. Can they do that, while dealing with all of the curveballs that come along with digital personality uploads, the Gizmo, and the schemes of the family matriarch who has a bit of power remaining to her, even as a digital personality?

Writing these shifting allegiances was...interesting. I keep muttering that it's a darn good thing that my stories so far haven't shown a tendency to jump worlds. That could make for some interesting fanfic, however--what would happen when Sarah Stephens meets Philip Martiniere (and which version of Philip is also relevant, since The Cost of Power is starting to reveal some interesting possibilities when Philip is not a total villain)? I have a feeling Sarah would eat the villainous version of Philip alive, simply because he's so similar in many ways to Francis Stewart, who betrayed her. Except that Francis is more playful and fun than Philip, even when he turns toxic. Villain Philip is toxic, entitled, lacks a sense of humor, and would dearly love to be Emperor of the world. Sarah would just laugh in his face while dethroning him, either if they were both alive or in their forms as digital personality upload and digital thought clone.

Ruby wouldn't face any romantic competition from Diana, Melanie, or Bess because Gabe is completely enthralled by Ruby. And despite their similar ranch origins, I don't think Diana and Ruby would have a lot to say to each other. Nor Melanie, nor Bess. Ruby would be at best a colleague and business competitor, not a collaborator. She might collaborate with Sarah, but Sarah's dark side would be a significant deterrent because Ruby is straightfoward and doesn't care to play the manipulative games that Sarah enjoys. That would be the drawback for Ruby with any of the Netwalk Sequence women. Sarah, Diana, Melanie, and Bess are more manipulative than Ruby, and Ruby wouldn't have much time for that.

Justine, however...she would probably have a good chat with Sarah. If those two started scheming, watch out! That said, as characters, both Justine and Sarah exhibit a tendency to keep their cards close to their chest and not communicate to me. I think I'd classify them as my Trickster characters. Both exhibit the ability to come out on top and overcome any setbacks that get thrown at them. I could see those two working together toward a common goal that benefits a lot of people, while advancing themselves.

Ah, the possibilities. Not that I intend to write them any time soon, just because I have other things to do. But Philip meeting Sarah, or Justine meeting Sarah?

Hmm. Hmm.

#science fiction #cyberpunk #writing my own fanfic #Netwalk Sequence #Martiniere Legacy

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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Day 20, Story #2 is by @floreatcastellumposts

Title: Dittany Author/Artist: FloreatCastellum Pairing: Neville/Hannah Prompt: Bravery Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Discussion of maternal death, mentions of violence.

Hannah's mother had been a muggleborn, and that had been her death sentence.

Or rather, she had been a muggleborn with the audacity and bravery to be proud about it.

Most muggleborns ended up slipping entirely into wizarding society, and as much as they might say that they would keep in touch with their roots, the magic took over. Jeans became robes, electronics didn’t work in their homes so their pop culture references grew stale, the effort involved in keeping the statute of secrecy for extended family and old friends was too exhausting to sustain, so they saw them less and less and eventually…

This had not happened for Mum, even though the Abbotts were a very old family, well rooted in the magical community. She had agreed with Dad to live in Godric’s Hollow, because the Abbotts had lived there for many generations, but she had insisted on Hannah attending the local primary school, where she could make muggle friends. She was adamant that they make regular trips to Liverpool, to visit her side of the family, who believed that she worked in HR (which she did, but for a potion manufacturer, not for a haulage company as they believed) and that Hannah had received a scholarship to an exclusive boarding school, and that Dad owned a pub (which he did, but they neglected to mention that it was frequented by witches, wizards, goblins, the occasional hag and a half giant). And when the Stephens side of the family came to visit, they would have a flurry of activity where they would hide away anything magical-looking, and from the loft they would bring down the big television, and they would speed read some muggle newspapers so they could give their opinions on Tony Blair or Men Behaving Badly or Charles and Diana’s divorce or whatever else they thought might come up.

That was life as Hannah knew it, and it never felt complicated or brave or shocking or daring or any of the things she later found out it was.

She remembered certain details from the day very clearly. She’d been easing sneezewort plants out of their pots, the last repotting before winter, her fingers shaking at the long, pale roots, creating a rain of soil. The last of the cream coloured petals, curled and brown at the edges, fell onto the potting bench. There was a sudden shock of cold air, a breeze from the door opening that hit their faces and whipped through their hair.

‘Professor Dumbledore’s here,’ said Susan with surprise, and Hannah had glanced up to see him closing the door to the humid greenhouse, his long white beard tucked into his belt, Professor Sprout hurrying over to him.

Hannah looked back down at her plant. The roots were all tangled together. Professor Dumbledore was probably here for Harry Potter, there were all sorts of rumours flying around about secret meetings between the two of them.

The plant needed a much bigger pot, but the roots were strong, there was no rot there.

‘Hannah.’

There was no hiding the bewilderment on her face. She had never had a direct conversation with the Headmaster before, and here he was, speaking kindly, gently, softly, one hand touching her shoulder and the other, black looking, gesturing to the door.

‘I need to-’ she started saying, as he led her out. Everyone was staring.

‘Don’t worry, dear,’ said Professor Sprout, and her voice sounded so strange, ‘I’ll finish up here for you.’

Perhaps part of her had known then. She knew it was something terrible. She was too afraid to ask. No one was ever pulled out of class for a good reason. She walked up to the castle alongside him as though in a dream, her heart beating up through her throat and into her mouth.

She was not sure how it happened, but suddenly she was in the warmth of his office, staring at Professor Dumbledore’s grave face, his lips moving, without really hearing, except for that first, terrible, world destroying little phrase.

‘I’m so very sorry to tell you that your mother has been found dead.’

There would be no worse event, no greater loss, no stronger pain in her entire life.

There was still dirt under her nails and in the creases of her palms, she noticed, as she reached into the silver box of floo powder.

It had been so long since she had seen Godric’s Hollow like this, golden and red in its autumn. Fallen leaves tumbled and floated down the river that rushed through the village, or collected in the gutters along the cobbled roads, damp and heavy. The sun stayed a little lower each day, casting long shadows across the beer garden of The Lost Owl, and the wind ruffled the sign on the door which read ‘Closed due to family bereavement.’

During the days, she wondered what to do with herself, stuck between boredom and terrible, overwhelming grief. When she could cry no more, she wondered if there was something wrong with her for wanting to find something interesting or fun to do, but when she tried to read, she could not focus. When she tried to listen to the radio, she would fall asleep. She could not bring herself to ask her weeping father to play cards or chess or anything with her. She thought of going back into school, but how could she see other people? Now that the world had ended? She wanted to tell people about it, wanted to say the words enough until they made sense to her, or until someone found the right words to say back that would make it OK, but she did not want to do this to her friends.

At nights, she would cry herself to sleep, and her whispers, please come back please Mummy please come back, would grow and grow and grow into sobs, begging into her pillow as the agony of it tore at her, the desperation, the feverish thought that there had to be something, that this couldn’t be it, there had to be a way, a special way, just for them, just for her, because it was her mother and there was no way she could live without her. Mum wouldn’t leave her like this, there was no way Mum would allow it, she would go to the ends of the earth to make sure that Hannah was happy, she had always said so, she had always promised…

But Death was something parents could not protect their children from, it seemed. The more Hannah thought on it, the more she became crushingly devastated, horrified to realise that each and every human on Earth had to endure this at some point. In different ways, at different times, with different feelings, but the mere act of bringing a child into the world was to condemn that child, one day, to the unbearable pain of loss. Every person she passed, she wondered, have you suffered as I have? Or is it yet to come for you? She wished she could spare them from it.

The aurors said she was probably targeted because she loudly and openly discussed her muggle heritage in the pub, and it must have been heard by the wrong people. That was what passed for bravery these days.

In the church of St Jerome, the stained glass window pattered with rain, and Hannah looked up at the colours of red and yellow and green rather than looking at the coffin with the splay of lilies, and she wondered when this nightmare would end, when Mum would come back, and tell her that everything would be all right.

***

Months passed in unbearable agony, worse than she could have imagined. But there were glimmers of light there too.

Here, at the school she thought she would never return to, in the place that was filled with unimaginable horror and oppression, she had purpose again. More purpose, in fact, than she had ever had in her life. And with it, new friendships that ran deeper than she had ever expected.

‘This way,’ Neville whispered, and they ran low across the lawn of the grounds. Some of the windows in the castle behind them blazed with light, so that she thought for a terrible moment that they must be visible from the Great Hall, but, of course, the windows would be black with night to anyone who looked out from them.

It was the summer term now, but the air was still cold as they panted, as though Dementors were close, which, she reasoned, they might be. She could feel the dew of the grass, left to grow long since Hagrid had left, soaking the bottoms of her jeans, seeping through her ratty trainers.

Following the dark shadow of Neville’s figure, she ran through the grounds until she heard the crunch of gravel underfoot, and, ahead, the slight shine of starlight reflecting off the greenhouses.

‘They’re in greenhouse three,’ Neville muttered, and her stomach dropped.

He did not notice, and continued to hurry along the garden path, past the raised beds for the hardier plants and herbs, and she followed, but at a walk now, dread gnawing at her.

He stopped at the door, holding his hands up to the glass to peer in. ‘OK…’ he said, still breathless from the run. ‘OK, looks clear… Now, while I talk to the venomous tentacula, you grab a tray, and fill it with perlite and only a few handfuls of compost, it’s a mountain plant so it likes it nice and rocky.’

‘OK,’ she said, and though she thought she sounded normal, he turned to her. She could barely make out his expression in the darkness.

‘Are you all right?’

‘I… I’m sorry, I just… I haven’t been in the greenhouses for a long time… especially not this one. I should have thought before I volunteered, I'm sorry.’

She felt immediately embarrassed for blurting it out, and she had no idea if Neville would even grasp what she was getting at. He had been in the class, yes, but did he even remember that day? What had been the worst day of her life had been a perfectly ordinary school day for the rest of her classmates, and so many terrible things had happened since then.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I can’t leave you out here.’

She thought he was telling her off, or saying that they had to go back, but before she had the time to feel hurt or ashamed, he was holding out his hand towards her.

She swallowed, and then placed her trembling hand in his. She was not unaccustomed to physical touch with him, or many others. Over the past year, she had tended wounds and comforted people as they cried, she had grasped hands and arms and knees under desks to soothe people or tell them to control themselves, she had passed secret notes and morsels of food and whatever else needed smuggling, slipping it nimbly from her fingers into their palms as they passed in the corridors.

But now his fingers pressed firm and reassuring against hers, and there was something very different about them holding hands.

She let him lead her into the greenhouse; the humid, warm air surrounded them at once, like an odd sort of hug that sat heavy on their lungs. Tall, leafy plants towered above them, brushing the domed glass high above their heads, which magically reflected the brilliant stars above them and lit the place in glorious silver.

Now that she was in here, she felt a little better. The dread that had stopped her ever returning here, that had caused her to drop herbology and pretend that this part of the castle no longer existed, had not come to pass. It was, after all, simply a greenhouse, and Mum could not die again.

‘Are you all right?’ he said gently.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Thank you.’

He nodded, and reached for some gloves on a nearby bench. She missed his hand around hers. ‘Let’s move quickly, and get you out of here,’ he said, donning some goggles and a thick leather apron.

She went to the potting tables where Professor Sprout always stood, and seized a large seedling tray. As she took handfuls of compost and perlite, she could see Neville wrestling with the venomous tentacular, saying, ‘I’ll bring you doxy granules tomorrow - I’ll move you to a sunnier spot - I already checked with Professor Sprout - come on, you knew this was part of the deal, we agreed-’

Eventually, when he had tied enough of the writhing vines together with garden twine and stroked the shoots into calmness, he gave a nod to Hannah, and started to remove his protective gear as she hurried over and they squeezed behind the plant

There, on a table surrounded by blue lanterns to make up for the blocked light caused by the tentacula, were long, deep pots, stuffed with dittany. Their slender, arching stems were clustered with pleasant green leaves, with a dusty sort of whiteness, and they were dotted with pink flowers. She had never seen the plant as it was before; she had only ever remembered the little vials of dittany kept in their first aid kit, good for scraped knees and cuts from any broken glass in the pub. Mum had always said it was good to be prepared in an emergency, it had been one of her funny little things like that, along with being a bit of a hypochondriac, and so Hannah had had a vial in the bottom of her trunk when she returned to school. That, combined with her good potions knowledge, had helped her stumble into a kind of mothering role that she found had rather suited her.

‘I just need the flowers, the book says,’ she said, as Neville started gently pulling some up by the roots.

‘Yes, but I think it’d be good if I can grow another set somewhere, as a back up so we don’t have to keep sneaking out here. It’s just me and Seamus in the dorm, I don’t think he’d mind if I put them in the window between Harry and Ron’s beds. Here, take these, cut the flowers where the stem splits off - yeah, there - so it’ll grow back.’

‘It’s really pretty,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t expecting it to be so pretty. It’s usually that the most useful plants are the ugliest.’

‘It is,’ said Neville absent-mindedly. ‘It’s from Crete. The healing properties were only discovered in the 17th century - people used to think it was an aphrodisiac, and it’s still used in some love potions.’

She looked at him, and though the light in the greenhouse was white starlight only, she could still see his cheeks burn red.

‘It’s… it’s not, though,’ he mumbled. ‘Well… a little bit, but I… I don’t know why I said that.’

‘Because it’s interesting,’ she said quickly, as he busied himself repotting the seedlings. He nodded rapidly, and cleared his throat a little, and she cast around for something to say. ‘You… you should be careful, growing these in the dorm. If you’re caught-’

‘There’s no rule against growing plants,’ he said. ‘I’ve had plants up there loads of times. Especially my mimbulus mimbletonia, that’s had pride of place for a while.’

‘You know they don’t need an explicit rule,’ she said quietly. ‘They do what they want. If they think you’re… doing anything good, anything kind. That’s enough.’

He nodded, looking down at the delicate, thin roots of the dittany. There was a reason that he and Professor Sprout were growing such an innocent plant in such secrecy. ‘I know… but… it’s worth the risk.’

‘That’s very brave.’

‘Is it? Just growing a plant? Is that what passes for bravery these days?’

‘Yes,’ she said honestly. ‘Anything good does now. And it’s not just that.’ She paused, still cradling one of the delicate, rose pink flowers in her hand. ‘I mean… what were you thinking in muggle studies the other day? I hated seeing you screaming like that.’

‘Well I had to say something. It was repulsive, what she was saying about muggle children.’

‘No one believes her, no one really thinks-’

‘We don’t know that. Maybe some people might start believing her, because it’s easier. And anyway, it’s not just about that. Remember Umbridge?’

‘I try not to,’ she said dryly, and in the pale, washed out starlight she saw him grin.

‘I know it’s stupid, but as Ginny and Luna haven’t come back, and Harry and Ron aren’t here, or Dean, or loads of other people… I’ve been-’ he sighed, as though frustrated he couldn’t find the words, ‘I’ve been trying to think about what they would do. I can’t afford to be Neville Longbottom, I’ve got to be someone braver. And Harry used to just completely go off on her, used to tell her straight in lessons that You-Know-Who was back, and, yeah, it got him more trouble than it felt like it was worth at the time, but you know what? I always found it really inspiring.’

‘I did too,’ she said quietly. ‘I remember thinking… well… why would he stick to a lie through all that?’

‘Exactly. He had principles, and if he was here he wouldn’t stand for any of that rot. There’s a lot of times over the past few months where I’ve just tried to…’ he shrugged helplessly, ‘pretend that I’m Harry. That I’m brave.’

‘I don’t think you’re pretending at all,’ she said. ‘You are brave. You always have been. You’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you?’

‘Somehow.’

‘No somehow about it. You’re the bravest man I know, and that includes Harry.’

‘How on earth does it include Harry?’ he asked, and he sounded like he was on the verge of laughter.

‘Because he’s had to be,’ she said. ‘I’ve grown up in Godric’s Hollow, you know, I’ve seen the ruined house that he lived in. He’s had to be brave all the way from when he was a baby. But I didn’t. You didn’t. You’ve chosen to be brave, you’ve chosen to channel him. You're a pureblood, you could choose, every day, to keep your head down and get on with things, but you don't. You stand up and call her a bigoted liar in class and get tortured and you never back down. I find that more inspiring than anything.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ he said quietly.

‘And you were brave lots of times even before. Don’t you remember winning those points all the way back in first year?’

He beamed, and looked at her directly, for the first time since he had blurted out that dittany was an aphrodisiac. ‘You remember that?’

‘Of course I do. Dumbledore pointing out about standing up to your friends - he was so right, that does take a lot of bravery. I tried to do it next year, when Ernie was telling me that Harry was the heir of Slytherin. I’m sorry to say that I wasn’t as brave as you, but at least I tried, I suppose.’

‘I think you’re very brave too,’ he said. ‘Looking after everyone like this, handing out essence of dittany, running out here with me to get more… I’m sorry that you’ve had to come back in here. I didn’t think.’

‘I didn’t either,’ she said, and she started cutting more flowers. ‘I was just so focused on the idea of more, I didn’t really think about where I’d be getting it from… But, you know, I’m OK, actually. The thought of it was worse than the reality. It’s just a greenhouse.’ She looked around. The white starlight bleached the dark greenery into shades of silver, bounced off the watering cans, sparkled in the droplets of water from the sprinklers. ‘A very beautiful one.’

‘I like to think so,’ he said, a little hoarsely. ‘I always found this whole place beautiful, but now it… sometimes feels like only the greenhouses still are. They’re the only place I haven’t seen people being tortured.’

She paused. ‘I’m secretly thankful my mum isn’t alive to see this. Is that awful? I’m just glad she never had to worry about me being here. I feel bad enough for Dad.’

‘It’s not awful,’ said Neville. ‘I know what you mean.’

‘Do you?’

‘My parents don’t know anything about what’s going on, and for the first time in my life, I’m glad,’ he said, and for some reason his words seemed to surprise him.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, and without thinking she put down the little secateurs and touched his arm. He breathed deeply, not quite meeting her eyes, pressing down one of the seedlings quite firmly into the tray, before finally turning to her.

‘I live with my gran, because… my…’ He took another deep breath, and suddenly there was a clanging from outside.

They froze, and heard a low voice swearing. 'Bloody wheelbarrow…'

Hearts thudding, they ducked down and stayed silent, Neville silently mouthing for Hannah to get onto the large empty shelf under the potting table, where bags of compost were usually kept. He reached up, fumbling for the secateurs, and then started crawling along on his belly.

'What are you doing?' she whispered, horrified. Alecto Carrow was opening the door to the greenhouse, still muttering and swearing about the wheelbarrow he had tripped over.

He put a finger to his lips, and then pointed at the venomous tentacula, which had begun to writhe against the twine. The snip snip snip of the secateurs seemed unreasonably loud, but from the other side of the greenhouse Carrow did not appear to hear them, rifling noisily through the plants and shrubs, sending terracotta pots crashing to the floor.

'Anyone in here?' he demanded. 'I saw your footprints in the gravel. Hello?'

The vines of the tentacula waved threateningly, and Hannah watched with trembling fear as one of them reached out to Neville, still prone on the ground, and started to wrap itself around his throat.

'Don't be cheeky,' she heard him mutter to it, and he calmly prodded it with the secateurs until it released him.

It kept one tendril around his ankle, but Neville seemed to allow it as a compromise, and instead watched through the vines as Carrow upturned a table, still shouting and swearing.

After several, agonisingly long minutes, Carrow came close to them. The venomous tentacula silently released Neville’s ankle, and raised it's spiked tendrils.

'OW! Son of a bludger-'

A long line of expletives followed, and the venomous tentacular shook noisily, whip-like noises echoing through the greenhouse as it reached after Carrow, now bolting from the room.

'Grab the tray,' Neville told Hannah. 'He'll be heading straight to the hospital wing, we should have a clear path back. Quickly, before the tentacula gets over-excited and turns on us-'

She did so at once and he held back the spiked vines as she squeezed past the plant, and hurried safely out of range.

She stood there, holding her tray of little dittany plants and the heads of the flowers. She watched as Neville easily unentangled himself from the tentacula, patted it, said, 'thanks mate,' and grabbed a clear cover for the tray. He came close to her as he fitted it over the dittany, protecting them from the cold night air they would have to hurry back through.

His face was inches from her own, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat a little as she looked up at him. There was a slight clunk as the lid of the tray found its place. For a moment, they were perfectly still, just their breathing in that humid place, and his eyes, shining light blue in the pale light, lifted from the tray of dittany to meet her own.

'Do you really think I'm brave?' he whispered.

She nodded, and he seemed to be steeling himself for something. Please, she thought, please make this place good for me again. Her hands gripped the edges of the tray.

Very gently, very slowly, he leaned closer over the tray. His hand moved as though to softly move her face to meet his, but he didn't need to, for she was already naturally tilting her head, and her heels were lifting a little off the ground without her bidding them to.

Their lips met, soft like the petals of the dittany between them, sweet like the fragrance. His fingertips were trembling slightly as they caressed against her cheek, but then they calmed as the kiss deepened.

The tray pressed into them as he tried to move closer, and it reminded them where they were. They broke apart, panting and gasping as though they had just finished the run down from the castle.

She had never kissed anyone before. She was glad, unbelievably, overwhelmingly, joyfully glad, that her first kiss had been with Neville, in this place where the warm air was scented with damp soil and sweet flowers.

'We… we should take these back,' he said, his voice slightly hoarse. ‘Let - let me take them.’

He took the tray from her, and in her happy daze she allowed it, and let him lead the way out of the greenhouse. Joy had returned to her again, beneath the fogged glass, amongst the green plants, bursting with life.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #neville x hannah #tw: maternal death #tw: mentions of violence

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arecomicsevengood · 2 years

Text

I Think We Can All Agree, NFTs Are The Ugliest Thing We’ve Ever Seen

It was recently announced that Kickstarter is moving to the blockchain. I’ll be honest with you, I have no idea what this means, or why it would be done. It’s pretty obvious to me how Kickstarter makes its money, they pretty transparently deal in the stuff and take fees for doing so. It seems like blockchain is just the latest buzzword that gets thrown around silicon valley tech circles and appeals to investors. I don’t really know what it is, or how it connects to crypto, bitcoin, NFTs, all these things that are widely opposed to by reasonable people on the grounds of being environmentally destructive and also a scam. I know the website Popula used Blockchain, but that’s not why I stopped going there, the site was poorly designed and uninterested in giving any indication as to what its articles were about. I am not being facetious when I say I have no idea what the blockchain is. Does it have anything to do with how people on Twitter block people they’ve never interacted with because of the people they have negative interactions with are associated with them in some capacity? Does that cause a lot of carbon emissions?

All I know is that I’ve had a “fuck kickstarter” stance for a moment now, for reasons I haven’t publicly articulated. It’s one of the basic premises I operate from, which are perhaps impossibly idealistic and generally prone to conspiratorial thinking. These are the thoughts that sneak into my TCJ reviews and instigate minor controversies. I started writing for TCJ when Dan Nadel was an editor, though I never worked with him, I think my thoughts align broadly with the issues he highlighted in his infamous “sell your boots” editorial, or at least the subsequent comments thread. I think Kickstarter is a poor excuse for publishing. It creates a world where artists that are either established or have a big social media following or easy pitch can maybe succeed but diverts their success into things that have nothing to do with the art, or reaching a broader audience.

Nadel’s company Picturebox is in many ways my ideal for what a publisher should be. They put out a bunch of great books, but they also took risks, and some books were more successful than others. Successes subsidize risks, a risk that fails is not pursued further. With Kickstarter, a book that “does well” is pre-sold in advance to a readymade audience, and the more successful they are, they get a book on a different paper stock or some stickers or other bullshit. Whereas in publishing, you put out a book, and if does well, the stores that carried it know to order more of your other books, and more risks are taken. We’re now living in a wildly conservative time for book publishing, and interesting things don’t make it to stores, and stores are boring. It’s bleak all around.

Picturebox may be an esoteric example if I’m citing my ideal of what a good publisher does. Often I find myself thinking of Dark Horse in the nineties, which published creator-owned work from Frank Miller, Paul Chadwick, Paul Pope, Mikes Allred and Mignola, Bernie Mireault, Jay Stephens, and Dave Cooper. They also paid Jim Woodring to write Alien comics, they had a Grendel anthology that published work in the U.S. by artists from Croatia, and they did a bunch of manga licensing. I think of them as a much more conservative company now, whose work I don’t pay much attention to. Bob Schreck and Diana Schutz were the big editors in charge of the work I’m talking about, I believe, and it’s interesting to me that, when Schreck went on to DC Comics at the turn of the century to edit Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Strikes Again, he was working with an artist who was aware of (and inspired by) alt-cartoonists like James Kochalka to make weird and invigorating work. Comics these days is far more siloed off. There was a time when the success of Frank Miller got a higher page rate for Renee French. Now is a much rougher time for artists like Renee French economically, and while it may be wildly profitable for Frank Miller, I don’t think it’s benefitted him artistically to be in, essentially, the 1% of comics artists, afforded a deal with Legendary to be the only artist they publish. (Right? The movie studio got into comics, but only ever released Holy Terror?)

Another reason to romanticize the 1990s: Publishers handled publicity for their books in such a way that artists did not need to be constantly online, which is maybe the number one requirement of a person seeking to promote their Kickstarter. Part of the rationale behind Kickstarter is to treat traditional publishers like they’re parasites, which is true inasmuch as current publishers also require their artists to be online constantly, doing all the promotion of their work themselves, as part of the ongoing neoliberal shifting burdens onto those least adept at shouldering them. If I were a publisher, and I wanted the work of the artists I published to be as strong as possible, I would want their time online to be minimized. It does not benefit an artwork for its creator to suffer from terminally online brain. Particularly if a publisher is seeking to have a diverse publishing slate, the more an artist differs from the cis white male model, the more likely they are to be continually antagonized and harassed online. The work of being a proponent for oneself online works against the work of making work that’s larger than yourself off of it. (Traditional publishing theoretically supplies editors as well, which I’m sure many comics would benefit from, but how much publishers actually give useful editorial input to their artists is something I couldn’t say.)

This is not to suggest that Kickstarter doesn’t fulfill a role. Clearly, it is a response to the conservatism of traditional publishing. “Publishers should make bolder choices” might seem like a non-solution, as all the cultural factors I’m alluding to here plainly suggest why everyone is so conservative. But like: That’s it. That’s the solution. That’s the issue. Book publishing, done well, is the alternative to weird web platforms, which will probably always be prone to snake-oil salesmanship.

---

For whatever it’s worth, I should direct people to Domino Books, who is currently planning an anthology of weird experimental work which will be funded partly through advertising. Domino is also a zine distro, and I believe proprietor Austin English largely believes that distributing affordably-produced self-published work is a preferable alternative to publishing as I’m outlining it here. His tastes are far more outré than what would ever be successful on Kickstarter. But again: Selling ads to subsidize the costs of a publication is a pretty good example of what a publisher can do that shouldn’t be the artist’s responsibility to bear. Not all comics should have advertising, but it’s a pretty major part of the newspaper model that provided a profitable outlet for comics for the entire twentieth century. Anyway, credit is due to him and editor Floyd Tangeman for publishing artists who seemingly have no social media presence where one can preview their work.

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years

Text

The Reward of Suffering

next chapter

Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13.

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

“Reid is in jail.”

I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

“Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

“In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

“This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

“Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

“The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

“Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

“We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

“Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

“Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

“Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

“How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

“Three days.”

“That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

“We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

“Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

“Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

“Where did you meet her?”

Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

“I… I don’t remember.”

“If you saw her, would you remember her?”

Spencer nodded in affirmation.

“You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

“It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

“And you’ve been drugged?”

I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

“Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

“Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

“Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

“Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

“Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

“Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

“Can… Can you stay?”

Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

“I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

“Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

And then there were two.

I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

“Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

“About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

“I’m… In Mexico.”

A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

“You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

“It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

“Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

“Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

“How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

“I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

“Wait, so, where are you?”

“I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

“Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

“The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

“I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

“I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

“Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

“I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

“I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

“Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

“I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

“M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

“Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

“Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

It would have to be enough for now.

Nadi Ramos was dead.

I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

And target him he fucking did.

“We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

“How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

“She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

“We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

“What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

“He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

“Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

“It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

“Do I want to know?”

Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

“Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

“I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

“Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

“I’ll try.”

Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

“There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

“What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

“I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

“Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

“I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

“I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

We are so beyond fucked.

“How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

“He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

“They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

“We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

“I don’t know how.”

“He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

“If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

“Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

“Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

“I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

“Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

“So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

“I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

“We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

“Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

“Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

“Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

“We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

“Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

“That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

“Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

“I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

“So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

“It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

“Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

“Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

“Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

“You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

“Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

“Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

“We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

“What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

“There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

“Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

“Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

“Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

“Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

“So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

“Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

“Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

“Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

“Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

“Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

“I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

“Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

“Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

“Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

“That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

“What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

“Why?”

“Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

“Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

“Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

“This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

“It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

“We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

“I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

“With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

“We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

“I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

“It was for the right reason.”

“I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

“We do, too.”

Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

“Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

“Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

“I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

“I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

“Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

“For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

We cannot give him that recording.

Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

“I didn’t record it.”

Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

“But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

“I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

“You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

But so is Scratch.

All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

“You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

“I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

“You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

“Since when did you get so insightful?”

A grin stretched its way across his face.

“Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

“And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?” “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

-Storm Constantine

#spencer reid smut #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #prison spencer #prison!reid

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gryffindordaughterofathena · 3 years

Text

MEET MY OPEN HEART MC

Although all of us play with the same main character for Open Heart, yet the characters that we have created in our head are vastly different from each other and even from our in game version. So I thought I'll make this post with the two versions of my MC, Diana Ramirez. Because I love them both.

Just a normal girl who gets thrown into things that can hardly be considered normal during her three years of residency at Edenbrook Hospital.

*I use the white MC face in game, despite my MC being Indian-American, because the Hispanic MC's smile creeps me out a little.

Over the past one year Dr. Diana Ramirez has become a comfort character. So here's everything about her.

♕︎𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕀𝕟𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝔻𝕚𝕒𝕟𝕒

♔︎Name : Dr. Diana Torsha Ramirez

♔︎Home : Her family has two homes, one in Kolkata in West Bengal, India and another in Chicago, Illinois (her parents currently stay here)

♔︎Ethnicity : Indian-American

[Note : Her Dad's American while her mom's Indian. We will learn more about them soon.]

♔︎Nicknames : Di, Rookie and Torsha

♔︎Immediate Family : Stephen Ramirez(Father), Indrani Mitra Ramirez (Mother), Daniel Stotra Ramirez (Younger Brother)

♔︎Education : John Hopkins University

♔︎Appearance : Long Wavy Black hair, dark brown eyes.

♕︎𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖 ℝ𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞 𝔽𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕤 𝔸𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝔻𝕚𝕒𝕟𝕒

❁She's almost never seen without her glasses as she's highly myopic. Her nearsightedness has lead to many embarrassing situations all throughout her extremely awkward school years.

❁She is well versed in English, Hindi and Bengali.

❁Diana is a mythology nerd and a huge potterhead.

❁She is extremely close to both her parents and although she will never admit it she loves her brother to death.

❁She keeps in touch with her best friend Valerie Thomas even now, they have monthly video chatting sessions where they catch up about their respective lives.

❁Di says she's an animal person if asked whether she's a cat or a dog person. But she secretly a little biased towards cats (don't tell that to Jenner 🤫)

❁On her 17th birthday her maternal grandmother gave her a watch that used to belong to her, she wears it on every important event of her life.

❁She can recite Bengali poems and she often sends Tagore poems recited by her to her family in India.

❁She's terribly arachnophobic.

❁Unlike popular belief, she's one of those rare doctors who can function without multiple cups of caffeine.

Tagging:

❁She and Naveen often have long discussions about their shared cultural heritage.

@genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @drariellevalentine @rookie-ramsey @aleynareads @openheartfanfics @miss-smrxtiee @terrm9 @aestheticartsx @fireycookie @maurine07 @starrystarrytrouble @schnitzelbutterfingers @tsrookie @anntoldstories @iemcpbchoices @stygianflood @sophxwithers @actuallybored @iloveethanramsey @natureblooms24 @chemist-ana @mercury84choices @casey-v @uneravine @mm2305 @mrsethanfreakingramsey @smilex1104 @missmiimiie @shanzay44 @sweetheartdetectivex @potionsprefect @headoverheelsforramsey @jerzwriter @mainstreetreader @coffeeheartaddict @adiehardfan @mia143 @kdjdhdvksojs

#dr. diana ramirez #open heart #choices #choices stories we play #pixelberry #meet my mc #oph meet your mc

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maschotch · 2 years

Note

hello my friend, wanted to ask you to rank the team from least favorite to most favorite. and to tell you i hope you have a good day!

ahh ok ok ok like the whole team or just the core 7? fuck it: all of them

jj: explanation here but tldr? white pinterest mom vibes and im nota hashtag feminist girlboss

kate: same reasons as jj but i thought she was funny while she lasted and i liked the human trafficking episode with her niece that was crazy

rossi: racist wealthy italian. "i used to be in the mafia" and "im a war veteran" are his only other personality traits. need i say more? his best moment was when he gave hotch a gun to kill himself ajsdlghsjg

seaver: wattpad energy im sorry gamergirl

matt: breeding kink. my vietnamese and filipino friends have had too many interactions with kpop stannies and koreaboos for me to support wasian kids with white moms im sorry

reid: he's not low on purpose i just don't really like any of the story arcs that surround him specifically and hes the most annoying ab his daddy/mommy issues than anyone else on the team (why cant he be normal about it like morgan lol) and i know enough other people love him to make up for him not being my absolute favorite

alex: another low empathy legend. i find her fascinating and i love lveo lveolevoevlevoelvoevleovelvoe her relationship with reid!!! thats his mom right there!!! (no disrespect diana- a boy can have two moms<3)

stephen: he was such a funky little guy. had that weird dad energy that we've missed since gideon left. didn't deserve to go like that, the scene with monica brings me to tears everytime, i wish he could've been there longer and had a chance to develop his relationships with the rest of the team more

tara: i loooove her she's so cool and smart. i wish she had more storylines about her tho :/ but thats the racism ig lmao

gideon: literally just a fucked up guy he's so goofy and weird. and it's kinda like the opposite of spencer--he's higher on my list bc i know he's low on so many other people's and honestly the weirdo freak deserves better. i want someone to hannibal him so so bad

jordan: ok i thought she was fucking awesome??? i really wish she had stayed longer but i also loved how she always struggled with the job because of how personally she took everything. she looked at this nightmare of a life and said "no thanks :) not for me" and i respect that. but i love her relationships with the team especially emily morgan hotch <3

penelope: ????do i even need to say anything she's gorgeous and funny and literally the glue that holds the team together like this show would not be shit without her in it

morgan: another one i feel like goes without saying he's just such a good man so gentle and sweet and kind and loving and protective. he takes all the hurt he's experienced and uses that to fuel his love and devotion for others. and he's so so smart he just doesn't need to rub it in everyone's face all the time. he's just got that tmasc swag and his tits always steal the show<3

luke: baby boy baby he's my absolute golden boy fr. he's going higher than morgan/penelope which seems a little off but i'm grading on a curve: he didn't really get any storylines and he wasn't there for that long. latino king and im a sucker for sign language. his crush on garcia is sooooo cute and just the way he was always there for her emotionally even when she didnt want him to be.. .giving him infinite gold star stickers

elle: badass cuban?? the way she instantly settled into the bau family?? putting everyone in their place?? how her leaving left a permanent scar on everyone who cared about her?? the potential for vigilante elle?? haircut in the second season?? her smile??? teh gUn HoLsTerskasj j??? what's not to love?? i wish she lasted longer :((((

hotch: hes my boring white man i will hype this bitch up so much!!!!!!WILL defend southern boy hotch to the death. trans man autistic man trying-to-be-better-than-his-father man <3 hes sooooooo expressive and emotionally open especially when he goes -_- i love him so so much

emily: she's so so so smart and hot <3 i love my low empathy queen <3 normally i dont really like ~rich white girl with mysterious international connections~ trope but she manages it perfectly bc its not her whole personality you know? she's all about second chances and trying again and building a new life for herself out of the ashes of her old one and it doesn't always work but she keeps trying anyway and i love love love her

#thank youuuuuu #now i wanna know yours but im sure you've been asked before but i wanna knooowwwwww #asks

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askyourwritergrandma · 2 years

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Hello writing grandma! I’ve just discovered your blog and I love it ❤️ I wanted to ask about narration, a google search couldn’t answer my question. I want to write a story where it starts off in first person and then switches to third person, because it has significance to the story. So would it make sense if I switched the narrative point of view in the middle of the story?

Hello! Sorry about the delayed reply, I had two Thanksgiving family dinners in a row and the food coma(s) prevented me from having coherent thoughts.

I did have to do a bit of a google search myself, not because I'm not familiar with 1st/3rd but because my attitude about unusual or unorthodox writing things is almost always "yep, of course you can do that". Since I'm not sure if you're aiming to get published or you're writing for yourself, I did look up the topic.

Onto the advice!

First off, it's just my opinion (and experience) but the answer to "Can I do this?" is yes. In fact, I absolutely encourage every writer to write as many different methods/styles/perspectives/topics/genres as they can because you just never know what really works best for you until you do it.

Specific to the perspective shift, it definitely has been done. (Stephen King and Diana Gabaldon have both done it as well as several others.)

You can define the 1st person section as journal entries or something similar to that if that works for the sort of story that you're writing.

Like this:

I remember that day like it happened within the past ten years. The weather was crisp but wet and my father stepped into our cabin, dripping water off his handlebar moustache. He drew in a breath and announced to everyone present: "Fine, we can get indoor plumbing." "No more outhouse, papa?" My youngest sister whispered. "Never again," father whispered. There was an agony in his face that I have never forgotten. ~~++~~ Maya's face was a mask of horror, as any ten-year-old learning the minor details of the past is wont to be. She dropped the journal like it had been used as toilet paper before it had been written on. "They pooped outside?" she whispered. "Like bears?"

(All examples are intentionally silly.)

Or you can write one chapter in first person and the next in third. I would recommend there to be some kind of hard transition between the two POVs so either "this is the end of the document" or "this is the end of the chapter" or pull a Mr. King and just decide "this is the end of Part 1 of this novel, Part 2 will commence after a brief intermission."

Hopefully this helped a little bit! If nothing else, hopefully it served as a bit of encouragement. If you ask yourself "can I do this," as a writer the answer is "yes you can."

Write first for your own purposes, and then if your goal is publishing, you can make any changes that make your story fit into the mass-market mold. But instead of worrying yourself to death about what those requirements are, wait until you've got the story down.

Best of luck to you!

#writing advice #writing help #writing perspectives #yes you can write anything and anyway you want!

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elisaphoenix13 · 3 years

Text

Consequences Of Pitching Practice

"Bah!"

"That's all well and good but you still haven't given me the screwdriver."

"Nnmmmnnn." Lucy answers while slobbering all over said screwdriver.

Tony huffs fondly. "Don't let your mom see that. I don't need another lecture about how unsanitary that is." He takes the screwdriver and chuckles when the baby glares at him. "It's also unsafe. I kind of like you."

Lucy babbles at him angrily as Tony wipes the screwdriver free of drool and he offers her one of her actual toys. It's not that he didn't offer her her own toys in the first place, it's just that Lucy had an uncanny ability to get her hands on whatever she wanted. Even when she was confined to a highchair or something. It wasn't anything magical, Tony and Stephen made sure of that, Lucy was just a typical, curious baby.

Tony had a feeling he may have been the same way as a baby.

"If you keep back talking me like that, you won't have lab time with me anymore." Tony says as he tightens a screw.

"Mmmfffbbb!" Lucy retorts and the engineer looks over at her to find that she had somehow gotten her hands on a different screwdriver. Which she was currently drooling on the rubber end of.

"Maybe I should take that as a clue that it's lunchtime for you." Tony says. "How about a bottle?"

Some happy beeps and whirs grab Tony's attention and he looks over at the kitchenette to find DUM-E excitedly starting a bottle. The first ingredient? Grease of some sort. Tony wasn't even sure when the robot grabbed that.

"No, no, no. Lulu can't have grease. You finish that for yourself!" Tony reprimands as he walks over to make a proper bottle. He partially ignores the sad noises DUM-E makes and takes the bottle over to Lucy. "Here you go dolcezza. How about something sanitary to put in your mouth?"

Lucy eyes the bottle her father holds out for her and Tony's eyes widen when she actually throws her screwdriver across the room and takes the bottle. He looks over to where the tool had landed when he hears a crash and finds a separate project emitting sparks from where it had been hit. Six months old and she had quite the arm.

"Maybe we should make a baseball team." Tony says calmly. "You can be our pitcher. Diana was kind of like that too but Cassie corrupted her."

For once, Tony doesn't get an answer from Lucy, but she was too busy with her lunch. Something he should probably be thinking about at the very least.

"Think your mom would make me a sandwich if I asked him nicely?"

A pointed look from the infant makes him chuckle.

"Probably not, huh? Not when I'm down here with you and tinkering for f--"

A low hum distracts Tony and he swivels around when it gets louder by the second. The machine Lucy had damaged with the screwdriver was spitting sparks like an angry cat, and it was glowing brighter and brighter. Tony barely had the mind to turn back and grab and cover Lucy just before the thing exploded. The force of the explosion sent them to the ground, but Tony made sure to keep Lucy secure in his arms. When he recovers and sits up, he winces as his ears ring and the first thing he hears is Lucy crying. Her poor ears were probably ringing too and he knew that Stephen was going to have a fit when the sorcerer undoubtedly came to investigate. Both Friday and Victor tended to snitch on him, especially when one of the kids was in the lab with him.

"I'm sorry dolcezza." Tony says to Lucy in an attempt to soothe her. "Daddy should have checked to make sure you didn't do so much damage."

He carefully gets back to his feet as a window opens to ventilate the smoke, and checks Lucy over to make sure she's unharmed, glad to see she wasn't and was already calming down. Her cries had already turned into whimpers and she had grabbed one of his fingers to stick into her mouth to help soothe her further. Tony coughs and waves away the smoke in the air, noting that DUM-E was actually in the process of putting out a small fire by the machine. It wasn't the only thing Tony noticed either. There were two extra bodies standing by the burning remains of his project, and when the smoke finally cleared away, Tony froze.

The two people that were also waving away the smoke and coughing were his parents.

Howard and Maria were standing ten feet away from him and all Tony could do was stand and stare.

That project was in no way a time travel machine, but clearly that's what had happened. His parents were somehow pulled from the past with a half finished machine that Lucy broke with a screwdriver, and Tony was floored. The last time he saw his mother was the night she died, and his father during the time heist.

"Tony!" The engineer blinks and looks over at the door with wide eyes as Stephen rushes in and over to him. "Friday told me there was an explosion. Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah. We both are. Lulu was just a little spooked…"

"Tony?"

Howard's voice draws the attention of both men and Stephen's eyebrows fly up toward his hairline.

"What exactly were you working on?" Stephen asks Tony.

"Not a time machine."

=======

"She's so darling." Maria says as she takes Lucy from Tony. "What's her name?"

"Lucy." Tony mumbles and watches the interaction with fascination.

Once they had gotten over the initial shock, Tony managed to explain what happened before promising to find a way to send his parents back to where they belonged. For now though, they were stuck in the present time and Tony was already preparing for anything. Maria wasn't the problem...it was Howard. Tony had no idea how things would go when it came to his father.

"Who is her mother?" Howard asks.

There it is. That didn't take long, Tony thinks to himself. He then points to Stephen.

"Him. Meet my husband, Doctor Stephen Strange." Tony says.

"Did you adopt?" Maria asks.

"Yes...but not Lucy. Stephen is literally her mother. The girls were made with magic." Tony explains, and Maria brightens when he mentions the girls.

"There are more?" Maria asks while Howard simultaneously says, "Really, Anthony? Magic?"

Stephen was the one to answer Howard before Tony could open his mouth again. The doctor didn't even have to say anything. He simply displayed his magical abilities and Howard actually closed his mouth.

"How many children do you have?" Maria asks again.

Tony looks at her and genuinely smiles. "Seven."

"And a half." Stephen adds and Tony chuckles.

"That's a long story." Tony explains to his parents.

"Where are the others?" Howard asks.

"Somewhere." Tony says flippantly.

"Peter is out patrolling, Harley and Thomas are running an errand for me, Diana is downstairs with Cassie, and William is napping with Valerie." Stephen tells them. "Tea?"

"Yes, please." Maria says and Stephen walks into the kitchen.

Tony could only watch his mother play with Lucy. Even Howard seemed content to spend time with his granddaughter, so Tony joined Stephen in the kitchen and finally took a shuddering breath. Stephen looks over at him with concern and Tony waves him away.

"I'm alright."

"Wondering if it's all a dream?" Stephen asks.

"Maybe? It was nerve wracking just seeing my father during the time heist and now he's actually here. Sort of." Tony tries to explain.

"You have a chance to tell him what you want to." Stephen says. "And...I understand how you're feeling."

He reaches over and carefully grabs Tony's right arm, and looks at the scars traveling from the top of his hand and up his arm. They disappear briefly under his sleeve, but then reappear at the collar of his shirt and finally stop just below the right side of his jaw. Tony supposed Stephen had a point. Stephen probably felt that having Tony back was just a dream for a while. But Tony was here to stay.

Howard and Maria had to go back.

"You've made it very clear that I'm only allowed to die of old age or caffeine overdose." Tony chuckles and Stephen looks at him flatly.

"Preferably the former."

"That's the plan. Where's Athena?" Tony asks as Stephen gently drops his arm and turns back to the tea.

"Upstairs with William and Valerie. Tibbs is sleeping in his cat tower."

"The chaos will start up any second now regardless." Tony huffs and Stephen picks up the tea he finishes and takes it back into the living room.

Tony follows him, finding Lucy surprisingly with his father, and giving Maria a chance to drink the tea Stephen offers her. The chaos truly did erupt after that as he expected. Maria was only halfway through her tea when the kids that were out and about came home, Cassie and Diana came upstairs, and William and Valerie shuffled out of the little girl's room. Harley and Peter had expressions on their faces that made Tony think that they knew who exactly their visitors were, but they didn't say anything.

"Here's the rest of the brood." Tony announces. "Brood and a half." He says motioning to Cassie.

"I'm sure it's always exciting here." Maria says with a smile.

Stephen snorts. "If it's not the kids, it's our friends. Sometimes it's both."

"But it's our life. I don't think any of us would trade it for anything." Tony says.

Not even for one more day with his parents like he might have wished for once upon a time. He got his wish anyway, just not the way he thought he would. Because Lucy liked to throw things.

Tony told himself that he wanted to say things to his dad if he ever got the chance to, but just like the time heist, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't want to see his parents off with another bad memory, and he didn't want to do that to any of his kids. They deserved a good memory with their grandparents...and Howard was being pretty decent so far. He could be civil too.

=====

To Tony and Stephen's surprise, Howard and Maria enjoyed spending every moment with the kids. Stephen at first kept an eye on them to make sure they didn't force any of their beliefs on them (or try to parent them in their own way), but he was able to relax after a little while. The older couple were content to spend time with the kids as grandparents usually did. Watching movies, playing games, cooking, and sharing each kid's hobbies.

Tony unfortunately couldn't spend much time with his parents because he had to fix the project Lucy had thrown the screwdriver at. He had to find a way to return his parents to their own time since he knew they didn't belong here. No matter how much he might have wanted them to stay and see how his life turned out.

Maybe they would go back to his seventeen-year-old self and tell him everything would work out okay. Even back then, Tony probably wouldn't listen to them, so he could see their attempt to reassure him being ignored.

It only took Tony a couple of days to fix the machine so that he could send his parents home. He let them, Stephen, and the kids know...and spent the rest of the night and up until the next afternoon with his parents. When it came time to take them back downstairs, they all went to say their final goodbyes.

"Do they have to go?" Diana pouts and Maria smiles as she pats her head.

"I know dear. It's unfair, but I'm glad we got to see you and your brothers and sisters." She says softly. "You be good for your mom and dad."

"I will."

Maria and Howard were quick to accept Stephen's role as the kids' mother once they explained how it started. How it started as a bit of a joke but overtime became serious...and then true when Diana was born. Of course they weren't used to it since their time was almost forty years prior, but even they knew anything could happen that far in the future. That things and people were becoming more open-minded.

"Thanks for teaching us some more of your recipes." Harley says, making Maria smile.

"Of course. I'm glad to see you enjoy cooking."

He shrugs. "Sometimes."

"Make sure you surpass your father." Howard says and Peter grins.

"We will."

After the kids finish saying their goodbyes -- and of course Lucy throws her teething ring at them -- Howard pulls Tony aside. Stephen watches with a raised eyebrow, but Tony subtly waves away his concern and the sorcerer turns his attention back to Maria and the kids.

"I'm glad to see you've done well for yourself." Howard says.

"For the company?" Tony asks.

His father sighs. "No. I'm glad to see that you have a family. A good one. Your children are all amazing and I'm not even talking about their potential." Tony looks at him in surprise but doesn't interrupt as Howard continues. "Your spouse...I don't know how things are in this time...but he's good for you. I…" he sighs. "I'm not good at this…"

"It's okay. I think I know what you're trying to say." Tony reassures. "I love him. I love my kids...and I would do anything to keep them safe. I have and I always will."

"I'm proud of you." Howard says softly. "I know our relationship wasn't the greatest, but I wanted to make sure you knew that. I doubt you need to know that or if you care--"

"Thank you." Tony says. "It means a lot."

"I'm glad we got to see you happy."

Tony felt just a tiny bit lighter after that when they rejoined the others. He hugged both of his parents goodbye, watched as his kids and Stephen did the same, and then booted up the machine that would send his parents back. Tony made sure Lucy didn't have anything that she could throw and make a mess of the machine again, and then finally hit the button. He looked at his parents as the machine hummed loudly, and returned the smile they gave him before they disappeared from sight and the machine powered down.

Stephen walks over to Tony as the kids head back upstairs, and wraps his arms around his neck. "Any regrets?"

"No."

Not at all.

#supremefamily #stephen strange #ironstrange #tony stark #mama bear au

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duchess-of-mischief · 3 years

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Spoilers for Nancy Drew 2x8

Here are my thoughts on this week’s episode, so enjoy!

(Also I meant to post this the day after I watched it but I was very busy this week and didn’t really have time to write it out, so here’s what you get)

Ace has so many amazing one offs this episode. My personal favorites being “Are you married? To a man?” And “Not many people know this about me, but the trees... they speak to me.”

Bess is usually so carefree and maybe a bit dramatic, but she always seems lighthearted. From the second she knows Stephen (Steven? Idk, ima go with PH spelling because that’s how I prefer to spell it) is in town, she is TERRIFIED. This is not a guy you want to mess with. You can tell instantly that this was a very abusive relationship, and I hated this guy from the second he was on screen. Also I’m not so sure this is going to be the last we see of him.

I loved how Aunt Diana was portrayed this episode. She was so kind and loving and willing to give a second chance, until Bess went behind her back. I honestly don’t blame Diana for not being willing to trust her anymore, although I think she would probably understand her niece’s motives if she actually gave her a chance to explain herself. Bess should have gone straight to Diana when she found out that George and Nancy were kidnapped, but her own fear wouldn’t let her trust her family. I really think Diana would have totally understood the situation that Bess was in, and knowing that the tracker was in the watch would have let her use it. The fact that Bess kept trying to lie her way out of it really proved that she didn’t really trust Diana, and that Diana couldn’t trust her. When she left and called her Bess Turani it was like a punch to the gut, because Bess realized she had ruined her chance to ever be a part of her real family.

George/Nancy team up! So there were a few good moments from this one. George’s “emergency supply run” excuse was never gonna fly, Nick knows her too well for that. Her “Oh you worry too much babe” got me good though

Nick and Ryan talking in the office about their plans, no important foreshadowing here. When Nick mentions Nancy, Ryan’s immediate “Nancy’s here? Right now? Did she say anything about me?” Ryan you’re like a sad puppy trying to get your person’s attention.

Nancy also had some great one offs. “Ryan, I see you, stop being creepy” XD

After they find out about how the shroud actually works and they’re sitting at the house, and Nancy just deadpan “I killed an innocent man”. I dunno about you, but for some reason that was hilarious to me. Also George coming in with the words of wisdom trying to get her to realize it’s not her fault.

“You weren’t seriously thinking about flatlining me, were you?!?!”

“Not... seriously”

That one’s going in the books

We get a good chunk of Nancy/Odette interaction here, and I love that. Odette is almost as good at witty comebacks as George, and I think that is beautiful. “You bed bug.” I’m dying!!! XD

There is a lot to be said about Ryan and his interactions with the reporter. He is very skilled at talking around subjects, the only problem is that this reporter is even more skilled at picking up on that. She is definitely suspicious and she’s going to figure out something she really shouldn’t know

That being said, did anyone else pick up on the chemistry between them, or is it just me? I think that this could definitely go somewhere, but with the CW there’s really no telling if it’s just a tease or if there’s actually something there

I find it really interesting that Ace was in the Boy Scouts, although I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since his dad was a detective. But the way he was so calm when telling Nick what to do when they were cutting the ropes was just like... dang man

When Odette started freaking out when Nick was cutting the ropes I was just so sad. She was so traumatized because that’s how she died in the first place, and my heart goes out to her

Also I freaking called it that Odette and George are gonna have to figure out how to share a body. Just saying.

I had more thoughts but I had to finish writing this on two separate days so I forgot them. Oh well

#nancy drew #nancy drew cw #nancy drew spoilers

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solarisposting · 3 years

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very tempted to be like 1-135 but i'll practice (some) restraint. also omg congrats on the library job!

3, 7 (and why, but that was probably implied), 25, 52 and/or 53, 63, 66

THANK YOU!! It's literally up to 15 hours a week so I'll be rocking the two jobs life for sure once I find my feet BUT! LIBRARY JOB! 1-135 would be cruel but fun and also still cruel!!

3. A standalone that you wish was part of a series

The Thief Lord by Cornelia Funke - it's a children's book (or maybe younger end of YA) that ends on a painfully bittersweet note and that I reread over and over as a kid because good god it's magical. Would it work well if continued? No, I don't think so. But lord, I've always wanted more.

7. A book you didn't finish

Rose Madder by Stephen King - I tried reading it in 7th grade (or possibly earlier) because it was laying around the house, one of umpteen books of my mom's that l was always curious about. I was wayyy too sheltered for that one. Being by Stephen King, of course it's dark, but it was fucked in ways that I personally couldn't handle at that age.

25. A book by your favorite author

Mixed Magics: Four Tales of Chrestomanci by Diana Wynne Jones - most of y'all probably know this author from Howl's Moving Castle, with good reason! It's fucking incredible, and I highly recommend reading the other two books in the trilogy, Castle in the Air and House of Many Ways. Chrestomanci is a fun branching out from Howl & friends, and Mixed Magics is the first Chrestomanci book I myself read.

52. A popular book or series that you love

Maniac Magee by Jerry Spinelli - yes, it's a children's book, and yes, it was probably more popular in the '90s and early aughts, but it's stuck with me ever since the first time I read it and is worth its place in every single elementary and middle school classroom ever. Something about it is just so special!!

53. A popular book or series that you hate

Emma by Jane Austen - I had to read it for a class and was upset to be made to do something so hideous and torturous. Immaturely, I get angry just thinking about the book.

63. A book that actually made you laugh our loud

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster - another children's/early YA book that affected me greatly from the first time I read it way back in fifth grade. It's just such a clever book, funny and surprising and wonderful in that it treats young readers as very intelligent and clever beings rather than just kids who don't understand wordplay etc. Shit, one of my tattoo ideas is from that book and I cannot give it up.

66. A book that fucked you up

I refuse to choose just one :-)

Feed by M.T. Anderson - technology bad brrr but wonderfully argued and presented (and far more complex than just that)

It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini - it's no secret that I've been dealing with depression since at least 7th grade. I read this one in 9th grade, when I thought I'd "gotten better," and it made me admit to myself that I was still deep in it and having an incredibly hard time. But somehow, it also gave me a little hope even as it forced me to accept something I'd have preferred not to acknowledge.

She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb - everything sucks in a big ugly cycle but sometimes good things happen along the way :-)

Life of Pi by Yann Martel - my favorite book. Gave me a wildass religious crisis and still has one of my favorite (admittedly simplistic and minimizing) takes on there being no one path to an ultimate religious or otherwise universal Truth

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem - of COURSE I'd mention this one!!! This book fucking sucks it ruined my life everybody should read it so I can suffer with company and spiral over it with friends

#ann with an ie #long post #i had more to say than i expected????

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dollsome-does-tumblr · 3 years

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it’s the final jane eyre thoughts! (cue ‘final countdown’ music)

a) I wrote to Moor House and to Cambridge immediately, to say what I had done: fully explaining also why I had thus acted. Diana and Mary approved the step unreservedly. Diana announced that she would just give me time to get over the honeymoon, and then she would come and see me.

“She had better not wait till then, Jane,” said Mr. Rochester, when I read her letter to him; “if she does, she will be too late, for our honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine.”

like, i don’t even have time to get into all the things wrong with our boy eddy -- and we know them well enough already, seeing as they are deeply hard to forget -- but one thing that i really love is he is ALWAYS ready to be absolutely wild with affection and praise for jane. does he ever imply that she in any way has a single flaw, except inconveniently being a good person in moments of devastating temptation?? he does not! he thinks she’s the best, and he’s gonna give many perplexing speeches on the topic, and honeymoon the rest of his days away with her!!!! (possibly on the literal moon, knowing this dude and his previously-described-to-adele honeymooning plans.)

“She’ll happen do better for him nor ony o’ t’ grand ladies.” And again, “If she ben’t one o’ th’ handsomest, she’s noan faâl and varry good-natured; and i’ his een she’s fair beautiful, onybody may see that.”

like: awwwwwww!

b) the bit about jane going to rescue adele from her terrible school -- being the guardian angel that she herself didn’t have! :’( -- and then them loving each other forever and being like mother and daughter really GETS TO ME, okay. i also love that jane sneaks in the burn of “don’t worry, we cured her of being french.” okay, ye great british weirdo.

c) i have always wondered why the novel ends on the words of dying st. john being weird about jesus; i think maybe it’s to contrast jane enjoying her earthly life and the people she loves with st. john never being able to enjoy anything about existence because he’s so fixated on his calling and on never being enough until he’s dead? and maybe saying that it is divine to love your time on earth and make a wonderful life for yourself rather than accepting that if you meekly suffer through all your days like everyone always told jane she should, you’ll eventually be rewarded in heaven and that’s enough so don’t kick up a fuss, little girl? idk! what he says kind of echoes how jane and rochester called to each other and heard each other across the distance and that’s what brought them back together, so i guess it’s like ... jesus is to st. john as jane and rochester are to each other?? and jane and rochester are frankly probably having a lot more fun?????

d) i also kinda liked the idea that rochester accepting religion at the end is -- rather than this book just getting real preachy -- showing that he’s kind of healed from raging against the world and is finally in a place where he can try to live in harmony with it.

e(YRE)) i think there should be a tv adaptation of that spinoff book series where jane and rochester solve murder mysteries together or whatever (this exists, right? i’m not making it up?), and ruth wilson and toby stephens should star in it, and it should be the best thing to ever hit television. rochester can have a hook hand like buster bluth. it will be INCREDIBLE!

f) oh book, i’ll miss you! thanks for being the best pal a girl could have.

#dollsome's deep thoughts #jane eyre #long post

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nearmidnightannex · 4 years

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RIP, Diana Rigg

... Well, hell.

Diana Rigg Dies: ‘Games Of Thrones’, ‘The Avengers’ & Bond Actress Was 82

By Tom Grater September 10, 2020 6:35am

English actress Diana Rigg has died at the age of 82, her representatives have confirmed.

A celebrated and award-winning performer on stage and screen, Rigg was known for her TV roles in The Avengers and Games Of Thrones, and in film as Tracy Bond in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Her theater work included a 1992 production of Greek tragedy Medea, for which she won a Tony in the title role, and a 1987 staging of Stephen Sondheim’s musical Follies.

“Diana Rigg died peacefully early this morning. She was at home with her family who have asked for privacy at this difficult time. Diana was a much loved and admired member of her profession, a force of nature who loved her work and her fellow actors. She will be greatly missed,” her agent Simon Beresford said....

Diana Rigg, Avengers and Game of Thrones star, dies aged 82 (theguardian.com)

The actor Diana Rigg, known for her roles on stage and in film and television – including The Avengers and On Her Majesty’s Secret Service – has died at the age of 82.

Rigg, who rose to prominence in the 1960s through her starring role as Emma Peel in The Avengers alongside Patrick Macnee, enjoyed a long and varied career, playing Lady Olenna Tyrell in HBO’s smash hit Game of Thrones, a show she admitted in 2019 that she had never watched. She also played Countess Teresa di Vicenzo, or Tracy Bond, James Bond’s first and only wife to date, in the 1969 film On Her Majesty’s Secret Service....

[...] To many, however, she is best known as Emma Peel in The Avengers, having appeared in 51 episodes of the hit spy series between 1965 and 1968. In a 2019 interview with the Guardian, she said that becoming a sex symbol overnight had shocked her, adding that she “didn’t know how to handle it”, and kept unopened fan mail in the boot of her car “because I didn’t know how to respond and thought it was rude to throw it away. Then my mother became my secretary and replied to the really inappropriate ones saying: ‘My daughter’s far too old for you. Go take a cold shower!’”

After finding out that she was being paid less than the cameraman on the series, Rigg fought for greater pay, saying in 2019: “I was painted as this mercenary creature by the press [for fighting against the pay disparity on the series] when all I wanted was equality. It’s so depressing that we are still talking about the gender pay gap.”...

#Diana Rigg #seriously this neverending godawful year

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fyrapartnersearch · 3 years

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Seeking Literate Partners!

Disclaimer: Male authors, please stop contacting me. I've been burned too many times. If you persist, I'll ignore your message. Hello, you can call me Doe! I'm 25+ and a proud cat mom. I write multiple paragraphs/novella style (200-500+ words). I love to write detailed descriptions and delve into a character’s head/emotions as well as surroundings. I compare it to writing a novel together. I understand if the scene doesn’t have alot going on and therefore requires less like rapid fire. I adore having long, thoughtful replies where we truly immerse ourselves in the world. I'm hoping to find a partner whose as enthusiastic and passionate about the plot and writing as I am. When I get invested in a story, it’s 100% dedication. Getting a reply is the highlight of my day. I'm a big fan of romance and using face claims. I’m the type to make pinterest boards, spam you with gifs, headcanons, and send you songs that remind me of our characters and/or ship. I'll get excited if we come up with future plot ideas, or if our characters are being cute or angsty and I can yell about it in the chat. Last but not least I only do MxF (with myself in the female role) and don’t double, but I’m more than happy to write side characters of either gender to help move the story along. I'd highly prefer female authors writing male characters. Searching For - 21+ partners (Since people have asked, it's fine if you're 20) - For you to have an excellent grasp of grammar, punctuation, spelling, and capitalization. Both in character and out of character. (Literate to advanced writers only, please. I'm not looking for newbies) - Plot before smut. While mature themes will be in my plots, and are even encouraged, there needs to be chemistry between our characters. I like to have a good mix of plot and tastefully written smut, along with doses of angst and fluff. - For you to write as an older man (firmly 40s+/50s+). I'm a sucker for the gruff and tough men with dark pasts who secretly have a soft heart. I also love those grumpy, hypermasculine men being intimidated by soft yet commanding women. If you're uncomfortable writing large age gaps please don't bother contacting me. The youngest I'll go is early 20s for my girls. - Please be enthusiastic and invested when it comes to plotting/worldbuilding. There’s nothing worse than receiving one sentence in reply to two paragraphs of ideas, or having a doormat partner who says “sure” to whatever I ask. Tossing ideas back and forth, watching them snowball into amazing plot threads brings me joy. - Joining me in the wonderful world of ship/character development is kind of a must. It’s one of the things that makes writing with a partner so much fun. I also like to make friends with my partners! - While I'd prefer real life face claims, I'd also be open to using realistic art if you're uncomfortable with real life. I draw the line at anime/cartoon art. Faces I'd love to write as: gal gadot, rooney mara, ruth negga, saoirse ronan, sophie turner, jessica chastain, jennifer morrison, mia wasikowska, natalia dyer, brit marling, deborah ann woll, mackenzie davis, emmy rossum, adria adjora, chyler leigh, hayley bennet, tashi rodriguez, lily james, cara delevingne, maya hawke, katheryn winnick, elizabeth olsen, abigal cowen, sophia lillis, lauren cohan, zoey deutsch, paulina singer, crystal reed, hayley lu richardson, diana silvers, ask about others Faces I'd love to write against: jeffery dean morgan, hugh jackman, robert taylor, jr bourne, jon bernthal, jason issacs, david harbour, frank grillo, iain glen, patrick petitjean, ethan hawke, christian bale, rory mccann, younger sam elliot, titus welliver, viggo mortensen, joel miller (illustrated face), cillian murphy, toby stephens, stephan lang, sam page, ask about others (I've actually been dying for a jeffery dean morgan x lauren cohen ship) If you've made it this far, thank you! You won't be disappointed in writing with me. I tend to be online daily and while I'd like it if you were too, I understand that real life things comes first. Let me know if you're going to be inactive/can’t continue. If you suddenly stop replying ic and ooc, I'll drop the story after 2 attempts of gauging continued interest spaced a week apart. Below are genres and pairings I love. Feel free to combine as many as you'd like and I’m sure we can come up with something great! Current cravings are in bold. Two thing I don't do are slice of life and historical plots. Genres: - crimes in remote locations - spooky small towns - post apocalyptic/dystopia - supernatural/modern fantasy (A/B/O, werewolves, shapeshifters, werewolf x shifter, alpha x new werewolf, involuntary mate-bond, mating/claiming) - southern/mid western gothic - murder mystery (small town or big city) - modern/dark fairy tale retellings - sci-fi - cyberpunk/retro-futuristic - little coastal towns or little towns in the mountains - emotionally charged/dark and gritty - superpowers/gifted - unresolved sexual tension/slow burn - redemption - pacific northwest - suburban gothic - luring to the other side - western inspired + modern day (such as longmire) - hallmark movie inspired - culture clash/two characters from different sides Pairings: - age gaps (older man x younger woman / 15 to 25+ year gap) - enemies to lovers/villain x heroine - cop x criminal - doctor x patient - friends turned lovers/pining - grumpy x sunshine - the broken man x the woman that becomes his light - fbi agents/cop partners - dark hearted man melting for the innocent woman - boss x employee - neighbors - single father x friend - firefighter/cop x victim - mentor x mentee - hurt/comfort - height differences - pet names (sweetheart, baby girl, kid, kiddo) - lady and the tramp esque/class difference - ex-con x anyone - bodyguard x assignment - widow/er falling in love again - biker x civilian - rancher/mountain man x city girl - affair (with so's sibling, with so's friend, with neighbor) - hitman x target - serial killer x fbi agent - soul mates - experienced x inexperienced - local x vacationer - injured/scarred warrior washed out from their former glory x royal/heir-to-be (modern day / Sansa x Sandor inspired) - friend x best friend/boyfriend's father - daughter in law x father in law - park ranger x camper - bounty hunter x bounty - power imbalances Tropes/Themes: the papa wolf/hot dads, cultured badass, jerk with a heart of gold. ladykiller in love, mountain man, mysterious protector, southern gentleman, tall, dark, and handsome, knight in sour armor, red string of fate, villain takes an interest, porcelain to ivory to steel, when person a gets injured/kidnapped and person b goes absolutely feral to save them, cowboys tiny women and big men, the monster being treated gently for the first time in his life, two characters forced into positions where they have no choice but to reconcile their differences and grow together/trust each other, forbidden relationships, trying to escape childhood demons & reuniting in adulthood, love as redemption Fandoms: (I don't write canons or do canon x oc) Star Wars, X Files, Haven, Fringe, Stranger Things, Heroes, The Wolf Among Us, Mercy Thompson Series, True Blood, Marvel, The OA, Disney personified, Horizon Zero Dawn, The Last of Us Plot Ideas: I have too many to list here but take a look at my google doc and let me know if anything catches your attention. It's a mix of fandom inspired and original plots: Plot Ideas Last but not least, I have a list of kinks if anyone's interested. I use email and discord to write. I'd also be open to joining a jcink site! Contact me at Doe#3347 on discord or by email: [email protected] Please be detailed when you message me, let me know why you chose to contact me. Seeing only "hey do you wanna rp?" is a guaranteed way to turn me off. Look forward to hearing from you!

#oc rp #multiple paragraph #long term #literate #action #adventure #drama angst #fandom #fantasy #horror #modern #original #post apocalyptic #romance #scifi #supernatural #submission

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