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gghostwriter · 6 months ago

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Death of a Love Affair

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t.

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: this felt oddly personal to me this is my first time writing in the Y/N perspective and in a one shot format so please be kind. I kinda left a possibly for p2, not sure about that yet, but let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Main masterlist || Part 2A (happy end) || Part 2B (sad end)

The first time it happened, you completely understood.

You had an inkling as to what you were getting into when you started dating a 187 genius who graduated at a young age and who was scouted straight from college by the FBI. It wasn’t hard to comprehend these external circumstances mixed with his internal need to prove himself worthy of belonging with the big boys would result in missed personal events. It was a given, you expected it.

You just didn’t count on him missing your graduation. After all, he gave his word that he’ll be there to see you walk the stage and receive your diploma. He promised you and yet, as you scanned the crowd of loved ones hugging the attendees, there was no sign of his tie wearing, button up lithe form weaving through the crowd, no sign of his slicked hair, meticulously tucked behind his ears and no sign his doe eyed hazel eyes shining with pride as you joined the ranks of adulthood and unemployment.

You reach for your phone, now finally free from the nerves and adrenaline of going up the stage, with a single unread message from the one you wished to be here with you.

I’m sorry, angel. There’s a case and Gideon needs me.

You sighed with a mild smile sprouting on your glossed lips as you sent back a reply.

No worries! We can celebrate when you get back. Be safe, I love you.

“Oh honey, I’m so proud of you!” Your mom exclaimed, reaching for a hug. “You graduated and with so many achievements—I mean look at all these cords hanging around your neck!”

You laughed as you stepped out from her warm embrace and watched joyful tears gather under her eyes. “Thanks, Mom! Hopefully all these cords help me get a job soon, huh, or else I’ll be moving back home with you.”

“Oh honey, stop joking! As if I wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms,” she quipped back.

A hand holding a bouquet of flowers shot up to your face. It was a bundle of your favorite, carnations, in ranges of different colors.

“Congratulations, lil sis,” your older brother, Trevor, breathed out. “Do I get a hug too or is that just for Mom?”

You giggled as you stepped into his arms, happy to be sharing this moment with your ever loving protector of a brother, no matter how busy he might be as a head chef for his own highly rated restaurant.

“Hey big brother, thanks for being here,” you mumbled in his tight grasp. “Did you pass along my invite to Dad?”

You felt him subtly shake his head causing your smile to slightly falter. You knew better than to expect the man who gifted you half of his genes to show up—a workaholic, absentee of a father whose love language was to deposit checks to your bank account from his fattened pockets as a lawyer for the rich. It was the cause of your parents’ separation when you were five years old. The matriarch tired from taking up the mantle as both the paternal and maternal figure for both you and your brother. Your mother exhausted from repeatedly believing broken promises uttered to herself and to her babies.

Having seen first hand how each lie wrapped as an oath chipped a piece of the loving and bright woman who gave birth to you and your brother, you vowed to never let that happen to you. It was a cautionary tale engrained in your mind. A fable—a curse really and in hindsight, you should have seen the markings of history repeating itself.

“Now, where is your nerdy pipe cleaner of a boyfriend?” He asked as he scanned around the vicinity for a sight of Spencer.

You shrugged, genuinely alright with your FBI agent of a boyfriend missing this milestone in your life. “Duty called. But that’s okay, we’ll celebrate when he gets back.”

A pair of eyes, similar to yours, inquisitively studied you as if making sure there was no hidden hurt behind those words uttered. “If you say so,” he stated, turning to your mother who was smiling at the both of you—her greatest treasures. “Mom, let’s get out of here. I had John prep the kitchen for a feast.”

You and your mom chattered excitedly at the passenger back seat as Trevor backed the four-door navy sedan out of the parking and drove off to his restaurant for the promised lunch graduation.

———

It was well into the night as you were settling in bed when the tell-tale signs of the main door being unlocked echoed through the dark green walls of his apartment.

“Spence?” You called out, letting him know that you were there instead of in your own apartment, 30 minutes away.

More shuffling was heard before the object of your love and affection rounded the bedroom door with a set of his own flowers on hand. He breathed out your name in reverence as he went for a kiss, pleased that he had still caught you awake.

“Congratulations, my love,” he smiled as he pulled away from your soft lips. “These are for you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

You smiled back, gladly accepting his apologies and flowers. “It’s all good, Spence. I know how demanding your job is. I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I told Gideon and Hotch that’ll I’ll be unavailable this weekend. It’s just you and me,” he said as he went in for another kiss, unable to resist any longer. Not long after, his outside clothes and your sleepwear were strewn all around the bedroom floor as both your bodies merged into one and reached a mutual crescendo with your gasps and his groans as the choir.

***

The second time, you moderately understood.

You noted that the BAU was back in full swing with Gideon being brought back to the saddle after what happened in Boston. As his birthday treat, you both agreed to fly in for the weekend to Vegas to visit his mother at the facility. He never would have gone alone should it not have been for your enthusiasm to come with. You loved talking to Diana about Spencer’s childhood during her good days and you also loved being in her presence still even when she was lost in her teaching past—acting out as a student as you got to hear her lectures about literature.

The bustling at the airport had you tip toeing up to catch a sight of Spencer, your flight departing in about an hour. It was a late Friday afternoon, travelers were piling in for a weekend trip, and he promised to head straight from the Bureau to the airport to meet you by the entrance. Your head swiveled from left to right, biting your lip as the minutes ticked by with no sign of your boyfriend running towards you.

The phone in your jean pocket rang and your heart slightly dropped at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey pretty boy,” you greeted, naively wishing that this phone call wasn’t a bearer of bad news. “Are you almost at the airport?”

There were muffled voices heard in the background. “Uhm—actually—”

You sighed, understanding what he wanted to say. “There’s a case,” you stated as a matter of fact. “It’s alright, Spence. I’ll tell your mom something popped up. No worries.”

“You—you don’t have to go alone. We can always reschedule,” he suggested, the timber of his voice going up an octave as if he was in a panic at the idea of disappointing you.

“You and I both know Diana’s excited about this trip,” you chuckled as you recalled how her doctor had described his mother’s face lighting up every time she was reminded of the visit. “I’ll go and spend some time with her. Maybe even get her to tell me more embarrassing childhood stories about her perfect boy.”

He lightly laughed at your joke to ease the tension and remorse he was feeling. “I could have told you all of it if you just asked.”

“Well, does it include pictures of you too?” You teased as you were checking in at the counter.

There was a stern voice calling for his name in the background, it was Hotch, you silently guessed.

“Listen, I have to go. The team is about to give the profile,” he rushed out to inform you. “I’ll see you when we both get back. I love you.”

The call ended without so much of a chance for you to say it back.

As the plane got ready to take off, your mood continued to further dampen. He promised to go—to you and to his own mother via the phone. An ivy seed of doubt was planted in your mind. Did he try to excuse himself from the case to his boss as some sort of birthday gift? It really didn’t work that way, you knew, with how of a high demand his job is but still, you wondered if his team was informed about the plans for this weekend or were they purposely kept out of the loop. That notion wouldn’t surprise you at the slightest, thinking back. The profilers weren’t even aware of his mother’s state and condition. Hell, they didn’t even know that you existed, a girlfriend of two years, until well into his first year at the BAU.

Deep down you grasped why he keeps Diana a secret. You were aware of the shame and embarrassment he felt for himself, having had to have her institutionalized by the time he reached the age of eighteen. You got that, didn’t mean you understood it but nonetheless, you respected his decision and was even proud of him for reaching out for professional help no matter how much he viewed that action of his cowardly. But what you weren’t really privy to was really why your relationship was kept in the dark. It could have saved him from Morgan’s incessant ribbing of his inability to pick up women.

During one night where your insecurities got the best of you, you asked in a small voice if he was ashamed of the relationship. He vehemently denied it, repeatedly saying that he just wanted to have a secret solace—a happy home to return to that was untouched by the worst human terrors that he encounters on the daily. That was what you were, he explained, a sunlit luscious reprieve filled with flowers and laughter where he could rest his weary bones from the ravaging, dark waves. His own piece of heaven here on earth. He then kissed your fears away that night, hugged you tight into his chest—the vibrations from his humming lulling you to slumber.

———

“I always knew it would take a special girl to understand my special boy,” Diana mused out loud as you plated a slice of cake for her.

You blushed, sitting down beside her with your own. “He’s perfect. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.”

She affectionately combed through your hair, similar to how her son would. “Thank you. For visiting and being understanding of his erratic schedule.”

“It’s no problem at all, Diana. I love him, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” You stated as the ivy seed of doubt sprouted in your mind—did you really? Did you really understand what you were getting into?

***

The third time, you still tried to understand.

There you were surrounded by the purest celebration of love and matrimony, sans your long-haired, sweater vest wearing plus one. Your brother was getting married to the love of his life, vowing himself to be with her for better, for worse and your other half was in another state catching criminals. Fiddling with the diamond engagement ring adorning your finger, you recalled how you ended up alone, dateless, in this joyous occasion.

You RSVP’ed with a date when the invitation arrived four months ago. Your brother even calling in to make sure that he, your well-celebrated FBI fiancée, will be able to attend a month before the wedding. You internally scoffed at his repeated checking but in retrospect, maybe he saw the end well before you did. You promised to him, as Spencer did to you, that he’ll be available to watch the union and to save all the slow dances with him. But the day before the wedding, the phone rang for a case in Dallas and you knew what it meant. Without so much of a fight, you kissed him goodbye by the door of his now shared apartment and let the dreary silence enveloped you as you think of how to inform your brother of the new change without hearing the pity and patronization in his voice.

Nursing a glass of red wine, you watched your brother dance with his newly wedded wife and in your peripheral, you spotted your mother approaching you at the table.

“Now why are you being such a sourpuss during this festive event?” She chimed out as she pulled a chair beside you. “You should be out there, dancing and getting to know our new extended family.”

You shrugged, unsure on what to say. She was right, of course. All the guests were enjoying themselves and basking in the warm, infectious glow of the happy couple but you didn’t have the courage in you to mask the despondent emotions inside of you.

Your mother sighed and took your left hand in hers. “You know, when your dad and I were going through the proceedings of the divorce, I had moments when I wanted to back out from it. I loved your father, still holds a piece of my heart till this day, and I thought the small moments of happiness when he was around would be enough to tied me through the days when he wasn’t. I thought those times and our love for you kids were sufficient to keep our love from wilting. If I poured out affection and devotion to the home we once built, it wouldn’t crumble surely. But you know what I forgot—”

You turned to face her somber eyes, looking into yours as if searching for something that seemed to no longer be there.

“—I forgot to take care of myself. I gave a pieces of me away so willing and so many times that when I reached the end of the marriage, I no longer knew who I was. Where the piece of me started and where it ended. You’re withering, my flower. The vibrant life that I once longed to protect in your eyes is slowly dying. I don’t want you to reach the finish line and not know how you got up there. How you ended up giving all yourself away with not a flower bud left to blossom just for you.”

You felt your hackles rise to defend the relationship. In hindsight, this was you denying the truth that was staring you right in the face. “It’s not like that with Spencer, Mom. It’s just—the job is hectic and it’s been his forever dream. He had finally started to gain his footing when Gideon and Elle left and then the kidnapping happened and that pushed his progress back a bit. But he’s getting there now. We’re stabilizing and we had a discussion—there’s less broken promises. It’s just that this recent case in Dallas was urgent and they needed the team to solve crime. I don’t want to take him away from the country and the people who needs his help and from his dream of solving crimes. I love him, Mom, in all of his entirety and he deserves all the respect and understanding from me as his partner.”

She squeezed the hand in hers—the left hand adorning the ring, the material manifestation of his vow to you that you had happily accepted. “I‘ve grown fond of Spencer. I see him as another son of mine but darling, sometimes the love you feel for each other is not enough. A relationship takes continuous work—a task that both individuals must pull in the effort and prioritize. Just think about it,” she stated as she stood up. “Now, no more of this depressing talk and this serious energy from you. Go around, dance with your brother, and enjoy.”

You mustered up a smile as you proceeded to do just what you were told until your feet were sore from all the dancing. But no matter the joyous occasion, it didn’t stop the realization in the form of ivy from taking roots and slowly covering all corners of your mind.

***

And the final time, you could no longer understand.

The grandfather clock stationed at the corner of the dimly lit apartment struck at two. Your figure was still dressed in your purple fitted dress as you waited for your soon-to-be other half to walk through the door. It was another night of getting your hopes up and broken promises and you were no longer sure how much you could take before the love you held in your heart festers and turns into resentment.

You promised yourself you’d never be in a situation that you had seen your mother once be in. You became the careful daughter of a careless man who gave little to no effort to cherish the love a woman had freely given to him. You thought with all your cautiousness and logical thinking, the mistakes of the mother would never be repeated. That was naive thinking—you realized now. By actively being aware of the past, you’d forgotten to look ahead and fell deep into the pitfalls of doing the same as your mother did.

Spencer once mentioned that there was a high divorce rate in his line of duty. How he worried and vowed that you both will never join that rate. And that was a promise he’ll be able to keep, you scoffed to yourself, as you spun the ring on the table.

Another shared piece of information floated to the forefront of your mind. How Haley had recently served Hotch, his unit chief divorce papers. You’ve grown close with her over the years, being the only two constant partners to someone working in the BAU. You’ve seen first hand all the missed milestones in Haley’s and Jack’s life as her husband flew around the country with the cavalry, saving the innocent one case at a time. Never taking the time to realize that the once solid foundation of their marriage was crumbling down with every flight he took. Similar to what was happening in the doctor’s own home.

A set of keys unlatched the mahogany door and a fresh batch of florals were the first that entered through, followed by Spencer looking sheepish as he noted your presence by the sofa. “Angel, I’m so sorry I missed your promotion dinner.”

Silence greeted him as he stumbled to get to where you were. “Carnations for you.”

Tears started to form under your eyes. You didn’t want to break but the reality of your decision was setting in. You wanted to falter, to change your mind, to give him another chance but you knew you couldn’t. You’ve given too much of your understanding away and you doubted you have any more to give to this beautiful man who once promised to make you his top priority.

“I can’t accept them, Spencer.”

His eyebrows furrowed and his body tensing as if sensing the finality behind your words. “Why not? They’re your favorite.”

“They are but—” you took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “—I think we should stop.”

“W-what? No. No, please,” he stammered out as his own set of tears started flooding his eyes, blurring you from his vision. “I’m sorry I missed the dinner. I’ll make it up to you—I promise just—”

The dam of your emotions broke causing you to freely sob out all the sadness and anger that had collected in your heart. “I’m tired, Spencer. You can’t promise anything to me anymore. You’ve broken so many promises that you’ll only end up breaking them again.”

He took your hands into his, letting the bouquet fall crushed on the hardwood floor, recognizing the ring missing in your finger. “This time, this time it’ll be different. Please, don’t leave me.”

“The country needs you, the BAU needs you. But I need you too, Spencer. I love you, I really do but I can’t be your third priority anymore. I don’t deserve that—don’t I deserve to come first before the country and the job?”

He tightened his hold on your hands as if afraid that you were slipping through his fingers, denying the reality that you already had. “I love you so much. I don’t want to live without you by my side. Tell me how to fix this. Do you want me to leave the BAU? I’ll—I’ll do it, just stay with me, please.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave the FBI. Your ambition and integrity is one of the facets that I loved about you and you might end up resenting me down the line if you leave now. It’s not yet your time to leave the BAU, you and I both know that,” you pulled your hands away and slid the ring in front of him. “This belongs to you, I’m giving it back.”

His shoulder caved in on itself, the weight of it all too much for him to carry. “I don’t want this to be our end. I just don’t.”

“I don’t want this too, but I need to,” you whispered as your hand reached out to push shoulder length hair out of the way. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe in the future we’d meet again and continue the pages of our love story but for now, I have to do this Spencer. I can’t keep giving a piece of me every time your top priority needs you, I’ll end up hating you if I stay.”

You leaned in for one final kiss. A salty, tear filled kiss of death to a future you had once envisioned with the beautiful boy before you. A white picket fence with children laughing at the backyard—the American dream fading into nothing as you start to pull away.

“Goodbye for now, Spencer.”

He stared at all the curves and dips in your face one last time as if etching every detail into his already perfect memory.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer Reid oneshot

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marquezkellylaw4 · 2 years ago

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#paternity lawyer

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cloakedsparrow · 5 months ago

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Alfred is Tim's Biological Grandfather AU

Bruce and Alfred had found it slightly odd that Jack and Janet Drake didn't ask any questions about Tim spending so much time at Wayne Manor. True, the Drakes could have questioned Tim and he simply could have not told them. However, the boy knew better than to keep it to himself if he'd made any excuses Bruce might need to know or if his parents were likely to make any complaints. Neither of the Drakes ever contacted Bruce or the Manor. They never requested to see or speak with any member of the family.

While they were making the arrangements for Janet's funeral (because Jack was in a coma and Tim was just a child), Bruce received a summons from her lawyer, stating that she'd remembered her dear friend in her will. Bruce was immediately suspicious because he and Janet Drake hadn't been friends.

Bruce receives a letter, along with a small, locked box, about the size of a document mailer. The letter apologizes for the deception and requests that Bruce give the box to Alfred Pennyworth, stating that the combination was Tim's birthday. Out of respect for Alfred more than anything, Bruce follows the instructions.

After going through the box privately, Alfred appears more solemn than Bruce has seen him in decades. He tells Bruce that -years before- he'd slept with a upper-class woman when visiting his father, who had already been working for the Waynes. After coming to work for the Wayne's himself, Alfred had learned that the woman had gotten married not long after and had a child. A child that was just the right age to potentially be his. At his request, Thomas and Martha invited the woman and her husband to a party at the Manor. Alfred very professionally informed her that she had an important phone call and to please follow him to an appropriate guest phone. Once they were in a private room, Alfred calmly informed her that he was going to require proof that the child was not his. He would be happy to take a paternity test himself, or she could take one for her husband that proved he was father. Whether she told her husband or did it behind his back, Alfred didn't care. He had no intention of causing a scene but he fully intended to be there for his child if he had one. The woman had agreed and discreetly had a paternity test done that had proven her daughter was her husband's child.

Alfred had thought that was the end of it. However, Janet Drake had left him a letter informing him that she had been that child. More importantly, she had informed him that the paternity test had been forged to keep him out of the picture since her mother had found a better prospect in her husband. After her parents died (she'd been an adult), Janet had found the results and a letter from her deceased maternal grandmother (who helped with the forgery) explaining the matter. She hadn't been sure how to feel or what to do about it. She'd ended up just ignoring it.

She had been concerned when Tim suddenly started spending time at Wayne Manor, but when she asked Tim about it, after talking about how nice Mr Wayne was and how cool Dick was and learning to play tennis and getting help with his gymnastics et all, he'd started talking about Alfred. He kept talking about how amazing he was. How kind he was. How funny he was. How clever he was.

Even though Tim hadn't known about the blood they shared, he'd clearly loved Alfred. Janet couldn't take his grandfather from him. That was why she let him spend so much time at Wayne Manor. That was why she never demanded to speak to Bruce. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't really about him. It was about family.

She also let Alfred know that she'd always been the primary caregiver for Tim. She'd always made the decisions in regards to him. She selected his nannies, babysitters, and boarding school. She saw to his medical appointments and made sure anyone preparing meals for Tim knew about his allergy (I always headcanon hazelnuts for some reason). She signed him up for gymnastics and martial arts. She made sure he got to and from Summer camp.

She knew Jack wouldn't know how to be a parent and requested that Alfred help out as much as he was comfortable with.

She also apologized for not telling Alfred the truth until it was too late for her to get to know him herself. She told him that the more Tim talked about him, the more she considered telling them both the truth. That she'd truly wanted to know him but just kept putting it off. If he was reading the letter, then she’d obviously waited too long.

Bruce and Alfred double check Alfred's blood against Tim's in the Cave before Alfred tells the boy he's his grandson. With Tim's permission, he discreetly has a proper blood test ran and uses the results to quietly assume custody of his grandson while Jack is in a coma.

When Jack wakes up and Alfred learns that he's both made arrangements for Tim to get an early junior's license to drive him around and also to work at Drake Industries for him, he doesn't just complain. He sees Jack privately and informs him that HE has had custody of Tim, not Bruce, as the city has assumed. He informs him of their relation. He informs him that he made a good deal of money both in the service of Her Royal Majesty and the Waynes and he invested that money wisely. In fact, he currently has more money than Jack. He informs Jack that unless he wants them to take it to a judge, Tim will not be acting as a caregiver, chauffeur, or executive assistant to Jack. If the man cannot afford to hire appropriate help, then Alfred will happy to pay for it, discreetly, of course.

Jack takes the latter option. He and Tim still move into the Manor next door, so that Tim can easily & quickly go to Alfred if he needs anything. While he's reluctant to say it aloud and almost petulant about it at times, Jack actually appreciates Alfred's help with Tim. He doesn't pay as much attention to the boy, but Tim ends up better taken care of anyway.

Alfred attends the Young Justice parent-Red Tornado conference alongside Dick (he asked Dick to still come as he’d understand the needs of a group of young heroes better than anyone else present). Unlike the others, he always stays on top of what the kids are getting up to. He refuses to participate in the sixteenth birthday trauma, which Tim figures out quicker since Bruce is working on his own (and he has someone to turn to afterwards -Alfred and Bruce have WORDS). He also holds people who hurt him accountable (it's harder with Bruce, who he sees as a son, but he does not mince words with Jack, Stephanie, or anyone else). He adored Dana and they had tea together once every fortnight just to ensure they were on the same page with Tim. He steps in and treats Tim much more fairly after Damian enters the picture. He goes full John Wick on Ra's after the man goes after his grandson.

He's still a grandfather to the others, but having custody of Tim (and a letter from his daughter asking him to care for the boy) gives him a sense of authority that he lacks with them. With the rest of the Waynes, he tries to stay somewhat professional, despite his feelings for them. He doesn't feel the need to do so with Tim because he's not the valet who also helped raise him. He's his grandfather, first and foremost.

#dc #comics #bat family #fanfic ideas I haven't the time for #DC AU #batpups #tim drake #tim wayne #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #janet drake #jack drake #batman #robin #ficlet #fanfiction

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kaijuno · 2 months ago

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“In this photo, my mom had just turned 18 years old. She was about to finish high school at a classical lyceum, where only eight students made it to the end—two girls and six boys. The others were all children of doctors, professors, and lawyers, but she was the only one whose parents were an electrician and a homemaker. My grandparents had only an elementary school education, and she had to wake up at five every morning to catch the bus with the working men to get to school. By her senior year, her paternal grandfather told her it was time to find a job; they were looking for a secretary, a well-paid and prestigious position for a good girl.

My mom was excellent in school and was sad to stop studying, but they couldn't afford it; there wasn't enough money. Then one evening, her father, my beloved grandfather Lidio, took her aside and said: "This money was set aside for your dowry. Take it and enroll in university. You can always buy sheets later." It was 1960, and my grandfather didn't even have a middle school diploma. He was an orphan from a young age, yet he was always light years ahead. After all, he had two daughters, and to those who said, "Poor thing, it’s a pity you didn't have a boy," he always replied that his daughters were the best thing life could offer him.

My mom graduated in five years, studying in the mornings and tutoring in the afternoons to support herself. She became a teacher, and since retiring, she writes books and edits theses, all thanks to a revolutionary working-class father who, in 1960, chose to invest in education rather than household linens. My grandfather was a superhero.”

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attorneycraigvigodsky · 11 months ago

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Divorce Lawyer in Pensacola, FL - (850) 9120-8520

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#Divorce #Divorce Lawyer #Pensacola #Child Custody #Paternity

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handweavers · 5 months ago

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i have an immense fondness for interfaith dialogue and particularly in finding common ideas and vocabulary across religious and cultural practices, i think especially due to having been raised in an interfaith and multicultural/multinational family where reaching across this seeming 'divide' to shared experience and understanding is a daily and necessary act of love.

my babaji (my paternal grandfather) was born in 1917 in a small town in negeri sembilan, malaysia, orphaned at a young age and worked as a child labourer on a palm oil plantation, and by the end of his life he was a respected gyani who did a phd in sikh theology and accrued an extensive library on sikhi, and was renown in our community for his knowledge of not just sikhi but many religions (aside from his primary career as a lawyer)

my other grandfather, my poppy, was born and raised in donegal, ireland in the 1930s and the only way he received an education was due to a sponsorship by an anglican protestant clergyman who hosted him, even though he wasn't from a religious family, and as a result he became intensely protestant and equally conservative. but after my parents married and my mom moved to malaysia, my grandfathers met and they quickly developed a great respect for each other. they would sit and debate theology, and poppy was impressed by babaji's knowledge of christian scripture and in turn learned a lot about sikhi from him. poppy was enchanted by babaji, and to this day (he's 93 and with dementia) he still speaks of him highly, and remembers their conversations late into the night regarding religion.

i never met babaji, unfortunately he passed away a couple years before i was born, and i've always felt that loss profoundly. all of my cousins are much older than me and have strong memories of him, and i'm the only grandchild who never got to meet him. malaysia outlawed the traditional sikh practice of cremation by funeral pyre, but i've been told that they made an exception for him, but i don't know if that is true. i've been told that thousands attended his funeral, but i don't know if that is true either. but once my cousin had a vision of him holding me as a baby under the mango trees in the yard, and i like to think of a world where that might have happened. and i like to think of a world where i got to sit with him the way my poppy did all those years ago and talk deep into the night about these things we both think so much about.

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ericccl · 1 year ago

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Discover essential considerations for creating a thoughtful child custody agreement. Prioritize your child's well-being with expert guidance from Eric Child Custody Law. Read now!

#domestic violence lawyers in California #family law attorneys in Orange County #best child custody law firm in California #paternity attorneys in Anaheim CA

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queer-ragnelle · 17 days ago

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can you tell us more about gingalain? he seems intriguing but i don't know much about him

I sure can! Here are the texts that center his story.

Le Bel Inconnu (French)

Gilglois (French)

Wigalois: Knight of Fortune’s Wheel by Wirnt von Grafenberg (German)

Carduino (Italian)

Sir Libeaus Desconus (Middle English)

Vidvilt (Yiddish)

His name differs depending on the text (as shown with the titles) but in Le Bel Iconnu [The Fair Unknown] his baptismal name is revealed to be Guinglain; varied spellings of that name appear in other texts so, I'll adjust my spelling accordingly.

Anyway the gist of his origin [most of the time] is that Gawain meets and falls in love with a mysterious woman but has to leave her to return to his duties at King Arthur’s court, only to discover he can no longer return to his lady/wife who lives in an impenetrable Otherworldy bubble. Years go by and their child grows up. The child eventually leaves home in search of his father. He ends up at King Arthur’s court but remains anonymous, so Arthur dubs him “The Fair Unknown,” for he’s handsome and skilled at arms. He goes on adventures with ladies, fighting giants and dragons, eventually revealing to Gawain that he's his son by the fairy/Otherworld lady.

"Guinglain’s" coat of arms in French Le Bel Iconnu is a lion...

In German Wigalois it’s a golden wheel of fortune...

In Middle English Sir Libeaus Desconus it's a griffin...

But when you google the character by name, Guingalain or Gingalain, it's this shield which pops up:

Now it's a pretty badass shield, but where does it come from? It doesn't appear in The Manuscripts and Patronage of Jacques d’Armagnac, where Gawain and his brothers first got their coats of arms. Evidentially this image comes from Le Blason des Armoiries by Jérôme de Bara, published in 1604, from which many knights received their coats of arms including Sagramore, Kay, and Bedivere.

Gawain's son appears in the supporting cast of many other texts. He's called "Gyngolyn" at the end of The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle.

And "Gangalayne" shows up again in Le Morte d’Arthur alongside his father, Gawayne, half brothers, Florence and Louel, and uncles, Agrauayne, Gaherys, Mordred, and Gareth.

Sometimes he keeps the title "The Fair Unknown" even after his relation to Gawain is known, as in the 2nd Perceval Continuation.

Some texts develop him into a fully fledged character beyond his origins, such as in the Prose Tristan, where "Giglain" fights Tristan and then reports back to a grieving Isolde that Tristan still lives.

And in the Post-Vulgate, "Guinglain" guards a bridge and challenges any who try to pass, including Galahad, Arthur the Less, and Palamedes.

He also appears in some retellings.

The best example is Gillian Bradshaw's trilogy. He's called "Gwyn" and his parents are Gwalchmai and Elidan. Their romance covers book 1, Hawk of May, then Gwyn is discovered in book 2, Kingdom of Summer, and his paternity revealed to Gwalchmai on Elidan's deathbed in book 3, In Winter's Shadow. These books are fine, but so slow, and started the trend of replacing Lancelot with Bedwyr to keep it more "historical/Welsh," meanwhile Agravain is still a character and Medraut is a bastard of incest and all the Orkney bros are actually Irish. So what was the point of that? I'd rather Lancelot had been there, particularly because Gwyn's death occurs when Bedwyr comes to rescue Gwenhwyfar from her fate and Bedwyr kills him, unarmed, to get her. So it follows the French storyline anyway. I do adore how much everyone loves Gwyn. Afterwards, Cei is acting as lawyer to work out Bedwyr's story against Medraut's, and they have this exchange:

Gwyn was everybody's baby boy. Then Cei describes the extent of Gwalchmai's grief, including having the horse he gifted Gwyn slain and burning all his belongings.

Cei likens it to the grief felt at Agravain's passing. So this is good food for Gawain and family enjoyers, but as I said, not a huge fan of Bedwyr/Lancelot hybrid as Gwyn's murderer.

In Persia Woolley's third book, Guinevere The Legend in Autumn, introduces the character. But she's so unpleasant about her characters of color...

Yeahhhhh. Long story short, Ragnelle is a fey nomad that lives among the animals she herds. She was unable to be made "civilized" and left court, evidentially sending her son "Gingalin" to be fostered by Bertilack, then given to Gawain after his Green Knight quest. There's so much unnecessary emphasis on their skin-tone coupled with the way their culture's framed it's just. Ick. I hate it.

In Howard Pyle's fourth book The Story of the Grail and the Passing of Arthur, "Gingaline" is mentioned in the line up of knights who join Agravaine and Mordred in the ambush of Launcelot and Guinevere. Ironically, he isn't mentioned as Gawaine's son, but his half brothers, Florence and Lovel, are.

Since Ragnelle and Gromer Somer Joure are both present in Pyle's series, I'm going to assume "Gingaline" is Gawaine's son. I know it, in my heart.

Lastly, in The Green Knight (2021) movie, Gawain has an unnamed son who dies in battle. He's Guinglain. To me. If I squint.

So what do I recommend reading? Of the Medieval stuff, the French story Le Bel Iconnu is the origin, so it's a great place to start. The English Sir Libeaus Desconus is short and sweet, with a really great scene of his kinsmen, Gawain, Agravaine, and Ywain, plus friends Lancelot and Perceval, arming him. Yiddish Vidvilt is also fun, it resembles the German Wigalois the most, which is my favorite.

And that's everything I got. As you can see there's a lot of Gawain's son in Medieval stories and not very many in modern ones. I love him! Let's includes him in more stories, shall we? :^)

#arthuriana #arthurian legend #arthurian mythology #arthurian literature #welsh mythology #sir gawain #sir guinglain #sir gingalain #the fair unknown #wigalois #vidvilt #le bel iconnu #gilglois #sir libeaus desconus #quotes #ask #anonymous

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ineffablywriting · 3 months ago

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favourite crime - part ii

Part ii - retail therapy

It had been just under two months since she had spoken to Harry. She hadn’t bothered to reach out again. She figured if he ever wanted to chat he would reach out himself but he never did.

Initially she’d been hopeful that once he’d calmed down enough that he would try and talk to her again. But that hope had dwindled as the days had gone on, and had officially been snuffed out when she’d received an email from his lawyer three weeks ago.

It had demanded a paternity test once the baby was born and included a contract and an NDA outlining that Alena was to never publicly speak of Harry being the father, if the paternity test proved true, and an agreed upon amount that he would pay each month as child support.

She’d quickly signed the NDA and emailed it back before contacting her own lawyer about the contract.

She’d been telling the truth when she’d said she never wanted anything from Harry, so she’d had them whip up a contract of her own stipulating that she would never ask Harry for any money, but that she also wouldn’t hide his identity from the child once they were old enough to understand and go looking for him. She’d also added a clause that allowed Harry any parental rights should he change his mind, but that when the baby was older Alena would not force a relationship between them if they refused contact with him.

She’d promptly sent that off as well and hadn’t heard anything since. She hadn’t expected this sort of prolonged reaction from Harry, she’d thought he was one of the good ones, and she was heartbroken that he’d proved her wrong and furious with herself for allowing herself to love him enough that his reaction caused her heart to pinch every time she thought about him. But she didn’t care anymore, she couldn’t care anymore, she had more pressing things to take care of.

Morning sickness had been an absolute nightmare for her. She’d barely been able to keep any food down and when she’d last gone to see her family doctor she’d been told she had lost too much weight and needed to better maintain her diet.

Which was easier said than done when everything made her want to throw up.

She sighed, eyeing the dry biscuits she’d been eating each morning with reluctance. It had been the only thing that didn’t upset her stomach, like she’d been recovering from a stomach virus.

But this morning she wanted cereal.

Letting out a quiet sigh, she pushed the biscuits aside and stood up, reaching up for a bowl and her favourite chocolate cereal. She poured only a very small amount before adding some milk and tentatively taking a bite. When she didn’t immediately gag she continued to eat, bringing the milk and cereal pack with her to the table.

She was halfway through her second bowl when her phone vibrated with a call.

She stared at the screen in surprise, letting it ring and ring until it stopped then picked up again.

Gemma Styles calling…

This time she reached out and hesitantly slid the screen across to answer.

She hadn’t expected Harry’s sister to reach out. She’d figured Harry would have told her and his mum everything and they too would want nothing to do with her.

“He-hello?” she answered, cautiously.

“My brother is a twat,” Gemma greeted her back.

Alena choked on the small bite of cereal she’d just swallowed and moved the phone away from her ear to cough and clear her throat.

“I’m sorry?” she brought the phone back to her ear, sure she must have misheard.

“My brother is a twat,” Gemma repeated calmly. “Are you ok?” she asked, a hint of concern in her words.

“Yeah, just-just food went down the wrong pipe.”

“She’s fine mum, just choked on a bit of food,” she heard Gemma call out in the background. So Anne was there too. Alena stood up and started to pace nervously.

“Ok so, back to my brother being a twat. He is, just in case you missed it. He only just told us everything last week. Why haven’t you called us? Mum’s worried.”

“I - I didn’t know, I mean, I didn’t think you guys would - I don’t understand. If Harry told you everything then why -” but Gemma cut her off.

“Why are we calling you?” she asked, words gentle.

“Yeah,” Alena breathed out. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me again.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve known you almost as long as we’ve known Harry. Just because he’s got his head up his arse, doesn’t mean we do. Besides, we’d at least like to hear your side of things. And honestly, mum is a bit chuffed at the idea of a grandkid. I don’t think she really cares how they come to exist.”

Alena just imagined Gemma’s eye roll at that and couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. It was full of relief and love for the two women she knew were listening on the other side.

“Sorry,” she sighed, feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. “I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes by calling you,” she admitted, refusing to mention Harry’s name.

“Harry is a grown man. He can handle us having you in our lives even if he doesn’t approve. And if he can’t, tough. We’ve put up with worse for him,” Gemma said firmly. “Now, mum wants to know when you are free for dinner. We have a couple months worth of catching up to do.”

“Uh-.”

“No, Harry won’t be there,” Gemma said before she could ask. Alena let a small smile slip onto her lips as she imagined the eye roll she was getting.

“I’m free any time,” she replied, refusing to acknowledge how sad and pathetic that sounded.

“Great, we’ll see you tomorrow night then,” Gemma said happily before they quickly ended the call.

Alena put her phone down and turned back to her cereal. A small part of her heart had unravelled during the phone call and she felt it fill up with hope as she allowed a small smile to slip onto her face.

He was dating Olivia Wilde.

It had felt like a punch to the gut when Alena had seen the pictures. She hadn’t been prepared for it, it hadn’t even been something that had crossed her mind as a possibility. Yet there Harry was, pictured out with her and her kids looking like a happy family while she sat at home with his own child growing in her womb, and he couldn’t spare a single thought towards her.

She knew part of the feelings clenching around her heart were due to the hormones that were swirling wildly in her body, but a larger part was hurt that he’d rather play family with someone else and their kids, than with her. Was being with Alena really that bad?

She didn’t have time to think about it for too long, the spiralling thoughts interrupted by a knock at her door.

She had no idea who it could be, thinking maybe she had imagined it until they knocked again. She hurried to her feet, grabbed her keys and unlocked the door without looking through the peephole.

“Oh, hey Gemma,” she greeted in surprise. Dinner with Gemma and Anne had felt like travelling back in time to when they’d all get together and catch up on all the different stories Harry had told each of them over the weeks he’d spent away on tour. He’d confessed to her once that he never told any of them the same story to make sure they all stayed in touch and took care of one another while he was away. He claimed he felt guilty leaving his mum and sister alone all the time, but Alena had known he’d done it mostly for her.

They’d grown up together. Every important milestone in their lives had been a shared moment between the two of them when no one else was around. They’d been so many of each other’s firsts and helped each other stay on solid ground when the world was spiralling out of control around them. But each time Harry went away on tour and Alena was left behind, she knew he felt guilty as they drifted further and further apart from each other and she was left alone again.

Gemma and Anne were family, and after she’d lost her own parents, Harry had wanted her to have some semblance of home while he was away as well. And maybe a small part of him hoped it would help stop the chasm forming between them.

It had been stories like that and throwaway moments of thoughtfulness that had chipped away at her heart until she’d unknowingly fallen in love with him - a consequence Harry hadn’t ever considered.

“Hey,” Gemma grinned at her, gently pushing Alena aside and making her way into the apartment.

Alena flinched at the pile of dishes she’d left in the sink and hoped Gemma wouldn’t judge her for the mess. She was too busy wallowing in self pity to do any housework.

“Sooo, how are you?” Gemma asked on her way to the lounge. “Dinner was nice. Mum wants to do it again soon. She couldn’t stop talking about how nice it was to have all her girls back together, as though there were more than two of us there,” Gemma rolled her eyes before her expression softened into something like wistfulness. “It was nice though,” she admitted. “I don’t even remember the last time we’d all gotten together. It’s been months. Ever since Harry came back and stole all your time,” she joked.

Alena’s smile dimmed a little at the mention of her brother and just how much of her time he used to occupy. She hadn’t noticed it until after he’d swiftly exited her life just how reliant on his company she’d become. She was quite cranky at herself for allowing him to weasel his way into taking up all her free time again. The first week he hadn’t called, all Alena had done was sit in front of the telly and try to fill the empty Harry shaped hole in her life with reruns and food. Eventually she’d snapped herself out of it. Now she wondered if there were others who had fallen for the charm and dazzle that was all Harry the way she had, and been left just as high and dry with an aching heart that refused to give up on him.

She wondered if Olivia Wilde would be the same.

“Sorry,” she apologised to Gemma. “I don’t know how it happened. I missed you guys too.”

“It’s not your fault. Harry does it to everyone. He did it when you guys were kids as well,” she rolled her eyes. “The two of you always used to be off in your own little bubble. We’d have to beat it with a stick to get it to pop until you paid the rest of us some attention,” she joked. But Alena still felt bad.

“He’s just got that thing about him,” she eventually sighed, shoulders dipping in disappointment as the nostalgia of childhood friendships and how easy everything had been back then hit her like a truck.

“Forget about him,” Gemma said gently, coming up beside Alena and nudging her shoulder. “He may be my brother but he’s not worth wallowing over when he’s being this unreasonable.”

“That’s easier said than done when his face is literally everywhere, smiling and laughing as though this huge life changing event isn’t going to impact him at all,” Alena grumbled bitterly.

“Ah. So you’ve seen the pictures already,” Gemma said sheepishly. “Mum and I were hoping I could get to you in time before you saw anything,” she admitted.

“So this isn’t a social call because you miss spending time with me?” Alena tried to joke.

“Why can’t it be both?” Gemma grinned back, linking their arms and pulling her further into the apartment. “Come on, get changed. Let’s go shopping and then grab some lunch. I can’t wait to spoil my niece-slash-nephew.”

Alena groaned. “Please, no. I can't even look at baby things right now. I was looking up a list of things to get and there’s so much,” she looked at Gemma with wide eyes. “Why are there so many different types of prams, Gem? What do they all do? What if I get the wrong one?”

Gemma laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ve got mum and I around. We’ll help pick things out for the little nugget. I’m pretty sure I saw mum looking up bassinets the other day,” she admitted. “And I won’t lie, I’ve started going to the baby section in some stores. I haven’t bought anything yet though,” she promised, sitting on Alena’s bed while she changed.

It didn’t take Alena long to throw on an old sweatshirt and some jeans before the two girls were heading out the door, a sense of peace and comfort settling over Alena’s heart, soothing the aching wound Harry had left.

She was so distracted and happy, wrapping herself and Gemma in a protective bubble of bliss as they walked from store to store buying too many clothes and things they didn’t need, that she didn’t even notice the random flashes of light as people took their photos while they talked and laughed.

And so when she got home that day after promising Gemma that she’d come by for lunch with her and Anne in a couple of days, and saw her phone light up with a Twitter notification of a ‘Styles sighting’, she ignored it. She wasn’t going to let anything Harry related ruin the rest of her night.

“Stay away from my family,” Harry glared at her from the doorway. When Alena had opened her front door she’d been expecting a teenager with a pizza box in his hands, not Harry. So when she’d looked up from where she’d been tracking her food on her phone, she’d frozen in shock, unable to get a single word out.

Not that it mattered, Harry seemed to be there to deliver a message and move on.

Alena blinked up at him, unsure how to respond.

“Did you hear me?” he huffed. “Stay away from my mum and sister.”

“I didn’t contact them,” she eventually managed to say, her hands coming up and wrapping protectively around herself.

Harry’s eyes instinctively looked down at the movement, his gaze lingering for a moment on her stomach. She was just over three months pregnant now and still not showing, but Harry’s frown still made her feel self conscious.

“You’ve lost weight,” he commented, his voice losing a little of its edge and his eyes losing a little of their ice. But he quickly shook himself out of it and fixed a glare back on his face, bringing the conversation back to the reason why he was there. “I don’t care who contacted whom. Just stay away from them,” he repeated. “Or I’ll take out a restraining order,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Alena flinched back, her eyes widening in disbelief and anger.

She felt her heart pick up its pace and her cheeks heat up. She didn’t care who he was or how much he thought she had wronged him, he had no right threatening her with something like that.

He seemed to realise it too, his face crumpling in apology almost as soon as he had said the words. But it was too late to take them back and Alena was too angry in that moment to give him a chance to do so anyway.

If she took a moment to think about it, took a moment to just analyse the situation a little bit, she would have picked up on the strange back and forth Harry seemed to be having internally. As though he was saying and doing all the things that were expected of him, while a long ago locked up part of his heart warred with him to be kind.

“I don’t care who you think you are, Harry,” she spoke stiffly. “But you have no right coming to my door and threatening me with something like that. I never, not once, reached out to Anne or Gemma out of respect for you. They came to me. I don’t care what you see online, you should know better than to believe everything.”

She moved to close the door, but Harry stuck a foot out before she could slam it in his face.

“If you think you can trick me into a relationship by charming my mum and sister-”

But Alena cut him off. “Fuck you, Harry Styles,” she said, anger rolling off her in waves. She had never been so hurt and so mad at someone all at the same time. “Fuck you for thinking so low of me. God, you-,” she shook her head, trying to fight back the sudden onslaught of tears that were clogging up her throat. “I can’t believe I wasted a single second of my life loving you,” she laughed bitterly, her heart yelling at her that she still loved him. “You know, I’ve had my heart broken before. By old boyfriends, by friends, even by you. I never gave any of them a second shot at breaking me again. Except for you. I let you break my heart on so many occasions, I was an idiot for letting you do it again. Please,” she begged desperately, tired of feeling on edge and of all the heartbreak Harry brought with him. “Please, just leave me alone. It’s something you’ve been very good at for the last few months, I’m sure you can do it again. But you can’t ask me to have no one, to stay away from the two people who have cared about me. Anne and Gemma have always been my family as well, even if you no longer are. You took my love, trust and friendship and threw it all away like it meant nothing to you. I won’t let you take them away from me too,” she said fiercely.

She waited until Harry took a step back, then closed the door, making sure to lock it behind her.

She ignored it when he knocked and called for her again, more gently this time. But Alena was done. She wasn’t going to tiptoe around Harry anymore to spare his feelings when he had zero regard for her own.

Thoughts are always appreciated <3

#hs #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry fanfic #my writing #favourite crime #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic

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