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beardedmrbean · 6 months

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Chrissy Reifschneider had just left rehab to treat her heroin addiction in 2017 when she started taking tianeptine, popularly dubbed “gas station heroin." The 41-year-old from Alabama was struggling with low energy, so a family member who worked at a gas station recommended she try the pills.

Within days, Reifschneider was hooked, and three dark years cruised by. Now four years clean, Reifschneider reflects on the deception that contributed to her tianeptine addiction and the overwhelming shame that followed. It's a trend that addiction medicine experts say shines a sobering light on the ongoing mental health crisis that's driving people to "easy" solutions amid widespread healthcare accessibility issues in the U.S.

“I thought well, I'm not sticking a needle in my arm, so I literally convinced myself that I wasn’t a drug addict until I realized I didn't recognize who I was anymore,” Reifschneider said. “It's crazy to think that these gas station pills just controlled me. I was ashamed because I'd rather people know I was shooting up heroin than actually spending all this time and money on over-the-counter (drugs).”

Tianeptine is prescribed as an antidepressant in some European, Asian and Latin American countries, but it’s not approved for any medical use in the U.S. Still, companies are marketing and selling tianeptine products as dietary supplements typically in pill and powder form, claiming it can improve brain function and treat depression, anxiety, pain and even opioid use disorder.

Tianeptine has been banned in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Indiana, Kentucky, Michigan, Mississippi, Ohio and Tennessee.

Reifschneider used to take five pills every four hours, which she said gave her enough of a “warm, fuzzy buzz” without making her feel clammy or nauseous, similar to the effects of doing too much heroin, she said. The brand she purchased recommends two capsules daily “or as needed,” and advises against exceeding three capsules in a 24-hour period.

She started to lose her hair and lots of weight; had auditory hallucinations; developed paranoia surrounding electronics, at times using 10 cellphones at once; and began to convince herself that she was “better off dead.” Reifschneider would even chat with gas station employees about how dangerous the pills were: “I was silently crying out for help.”

After several unsuccessful stays in rehab, Reifschneider quit “cold turkey” and entered a withdrawal state for the next six months, which she said felt similar to but lasted longer than her withdrawal from heroin and fentanyl. Today, she continues to “feel like a 15-year-old in my brain,” alluding to her debilitating memory problems. “It’s one of my more shameful things,” she said.

Poison control cases involving tianeptine have increased nationwide, from 11 total cases between 2000 and 2013 to 151 cases in 2020, the FDA says. Many poison control calls often involve severe withdrawal symptoms, such as agitation, vomiting and diarrhea, because people typically consume higher doses than those prescribed in other countries, according to a 2018 CDC report.

Dr. Holly Geyer, an internal medicine physician specializing in addiction medicine with the Mayo Clinic, said fear of withdrawal and the depression that follows can contribute to addiction to a variety of substances.

“These often aren't people who are chasing a high. They're just trying to feel normal, and if there's a drug out there that helps them curb that appetite, they're probably going to take it until it as a solution becomes the problem,” Geyer said. “These people are trapped biologically, mentally and spiritually. It's a horrible situation to be in, and I can tell you tianeptine does not let them out of it.”

Shame and stigma prevail among addiction recovery circles

Since Reifschneider joined social media to share her tianeptine experience, neighbors and friends have confided in her with their own struggles with the supplement. “It was a very dark secret we all kept in our recovery circle because it was so shameful,” she said. “We all felt better about ourselves because we weren’t doing the worst of the worst.”

Aaron Weiner, an addiction psychologist, says that mentality is “completely reasonable” considering the stigma and “traditionalism” that still weighs on drug use in general. “There’s a very intense mental health burden in this country right now,” he said.

Tianeptine is marketed as a supplement, but it’s really an opioid receptor agonist. That means it binds to the same receptors in the brain that heroin, fentanyl and other opioids do, causing similar euphoric and addictive effects by hijacking the body’s dopamine system. So when people use tianeptine amid their recovery journey to cope with withdrawal or other lingering effects, judgment frequently follows.

“In a lot of recovery circles, the goal is complete abstinence from all intoxicating substances,” Weiner said. “In this scenario, some people may assume they’re substituting one drug for another, and say they’re not really sober.”

Similar judgment occurs among those taking FDA-approved medications for opioid use disorder (MOUD), including methadone, buprenorphine and naltrexone — some of which are opioids themselves. Mounting evidence shows that they reduce opioid cravings and withdrawal symptoms, and block their euphoric effects, Weiner said, but don’t make people “high” or cause withdrawal when dosed properly.

Although MOUD use has grown by more than 100% over the last decade, nearly 90% of people living with opioid use disorder are not receiving these medications, according to a 2022 study published in the International Journal of Drug Policy. Experts say stigma is partly to blame.

“One of the greatest problems we have in this country is that of stigma; we label people, then throw them out with their diagnoses,” Geyer said. “So when many of them turn to MOUD, they experience equal amounts of stigma and are led to think that no one could yell at them or be offended if they use supplements like tianeptine that they think are safer.”

"It kills me to know this is still out there"

Reifschneider said she visited a doctor who specializes in addiction medicine two times for help to detox from tianeptine, but neither attempt was successful.

“The doctor had no idea what these pills were, but he wanted to help me because he could see my desperation,” Reifschneider said. “I was terrified to come off of them alone, so I didn’t know what to do.”

She ultimately detoxed herself, but this lack of awareness and access to proper treatment, Geyer said, is what deters people away from evidence-based treatment and attracts them to the illicit market.

Data show that nearly 50% of counties in the U.S., don’t have MOUD medication providers and 32% don’t have any specialty substance abuse treatment programs at all.

“There's not a whole lot of attention paid to tianeptine because it’s one of many drugs that you could find at gas stations these days that are not technically outlawed but certainly not beneficial,” Geyer said. “The big name drugs out there like fentanyl is where the money has historically been in this industry, so that's where most treatment approaches have focused.”

After years of rehab, Reifschneider said she wants to lay low and just live a normal life, but knowing that tianeptine is still being sold on gas station shelves weighs on her.

“I'm honestly grateful that there's been more awareness, but it kills me to know this is still out there,” she said.

#nunyas news #wtf

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all-pacas · 3 months

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i’d really love to see a fully fledged fix it where you work out how you think it should’ve gone, with or without the divorce

[Referencing Cameron/Chase] So, here's the thing: I am not sure it can be fixed. I've been trying to think of ways to fix the divorce, and frankly, I don't think it's possible. Once the two of them split up? It's over. I don't even think it matters if Dibala exists or not; if they split up for another reason, I just don't think they'd get back together.

On Chase's end, we know the divorce fucked him up. Hell, the relationship kind of seems to have fucked with him; it's true he has more of a reason to look back cynically when it's over, but him hoping Cameron never loved him? Mustering evidence? Would he trust her again? Would he want her back? I'm not sure. Chase already went through this once, with his father: loving someone who abandons you and doesn't care. The first time, he closed himself off; after Cameron, he doesn't emotionally attach to anyone again. (Except the S8 nun, which was really much more of a "I almost died" desperation rebound.) I think even if Cameron showed up on his door begging for another chance, he wouldn't go for it. Been there, done that, wrote a narrative where she never cared and so he didn't either.

Cameron is… harder, because I think a lot of how the breakup happened was out of character. But she has a well established pattern of running away from her trauma, starting over. To go back to Princeton would be backsliding, or making a mistake, in her mind. Even if she wanted to (and I do think she would have wanted to; Cameron doesn't like to give up on things. It doesn't even matter if she loved Chase or not, although I believe she did. I think she'd honestly want to keep trying just out of… spite, almost. Stubbornness. Not flee and never once look back. The only way I can handwave her exit from the show is by saying she knows that about herself, and couldn't allow herself to do so — like quitting cold turkey. She knows she'd fall right back into the marriage, like it or not, if she stayed.)

That said, I don't think they're necessarily doomed in every reality or anything. I can imagine a world where they never divorced and were perfectly happy together, honestly. We can and should joke about how bad House MD is at writing and showing romance, and they certainly didn't have a great showing, but just looking at who they are? On paper, they seem like they could be good together.

Chase is cynical and apathetic but also cares a lot; we joke about how fucking needy he is but honestly? Cameron could be such a good girlfriend. You know she decorates the house for the holidays and he eats it up; he seems like he'd do great with domesticity and that sort of overwhelming cuddliness. And frankly, he'd enjoy getting bossed around, having someone who cares enough to boss him around, push him out of his laziness and apathy.

At the same time, though, Cameron is kind of… Foreman calls her anal. Type A. She needs to always be in control to feel safe, but that's actually not healthy. Chase is much more easy going, and he's totally fine with her being in charge of their relationship — but, very importantly: he's not actually a doormat. He has no issue pushing back against her. It's true he let the spare drawer issue lie for too long, but when she was avoiding his proposal? He established boundaries and fucking enforced them (by dumping her). With the sperm debacle? Same thing: he told her he was uncomfortable marrying her when she had doubts, and called off the wedding. Even in the messy FWB stage, he calls her out when he feels like he needs to. And I think that's good. Cameron is absolutely mostly in charge, the dominant one, and they're both happy with it. But Chase isn't passive or unwilling to push back. Nor is he mean about it. Where Foreman tends to push against Cameron by implying (or…saying) she's dumb and naive, Chase is honestly pretty nice to her. Even when he's upset, he never insults her or looks down on her. Even when they're having it out as they divorce, and he accuses her of never loving him, he stops to hug her when she cries.

They actually get along really well. Chase is the one of the OG team (counting House, Wilson, and Cuddy) who always got along with Cameron best. They have moments of disagreement of bickering here and there, but where there are episodes of Cameron feuding with Wilson or Foreman, or House, she and Chase tend to agree and get along. Part of this is undoubtedly because Chase is more passive and harder to pick a fight with. Once they start dating, they spend most of their time together, just hanging out. They like one another. There's probably a reason, besides Chase just being a huge dumb whore, that Cameron picked him to hook up with or for FWB: that reason not being deep secret love, but because they get along. If S2 Cameron considered Foreman a friend, she absolutely also considered Chase one, you know?

They apparently want similar things in life: they move in together, get married, and, if Chase's lines in Both Sides Now are an indication, they've talked about and maybe planned on having kids. Maybe they're not true passionate soulmates or whatever, but I think if nothing had gotten in the way, they probably would have been perfectly happy together. Maybe gotten an amicable divorce fifteen or twenty years later, when the kids were grown.

But once they separate? It's over.

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sparingiscaring · 1 year

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Congrats on regaining cognition after a long headache episode! Those are baaadddd for focus 😔

What do your OCs do to wind down before sleeping

Yeah, I tried quitting caffeine cold-turkey... no. Just... no. Never again. I'll have a Less than Laudable Caffeine Habit for forever, to avoid that constant ache again.

Answer under the cut, to save space!

Eliza has the most stringent nighttime routine, and actually sleeps the best as a result. It always draws a bath (NORMALLY, not like. A certain other master who's name starts with a C) a two hours before it plans to sleep, and after that's done, it winds down in bed, always on the right side, and it journals. Never what it actually did that day, mind you - it knows better than to write down its crimes - but it's an easy last task, to write down some charming lies about it's day. It's always the last to bed.

Leigh, usually, reclines with a few pages of novel, but he's been having so many more nightmares as of late, due to the events of the Horticultural Show, and the memories it's drudged up. As of late, the only way he's been able to sleep is with the help of laudanum, usually taken with his last cup of tea for the night. He appreciates that it keeps the nightmares away, at least for that night.

Damodar should have the easiest time falling asleep, just as a side-effect of her work as a Silverer, but her anxieties get the better of her, and she turns to that work to wind down. Nothing major - mostly accounting, and the working out of what to bill her clients. Busywork is comforting for her. If things get REALLY bad, she'll pop over to her lab at the university, and sit at her desk as she settles grants and requests for certain funds - it's not uncommon to see her asleep a desk, pen still in hand, when the first research assistants enter that morning.

Wadiya has the most trouble sleeping, consistently. It's the darkness, always, that gets her - it makes every hair stand on end, no matter how long they live in this darkness. Not helpful that her most consistent lodgings are in the cellars of Old Newgate. Lighting a candle and watching it burn down is the best they can manage for winding down - it's a race against the clock, to fall asleep while it's still dark, if they want to do more than have a micronap.

Emery would say he has no ritual - he writes his dreadfuls in the waning hours until he tires, and then promptly falls into bed, but the writing process, however frantic he finds it, always gets those lasts bursts of energy of his system. If he were to stop, any semblance of a schedule would fall to ruin, as he'd start oscellating between extremely long days, then short ones. 36 hours one day, 12 the next, then another 32... it's for the best that he continue his morbid writings as his last activity before bed.

#Thank you ehehe!!#fallen london #oc: eliza marlow #oc: leigh corby #oc: damodar wali #oc: wadiya babar #oc: emery hyde

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luimagines · 3 years

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Do time or the other links smoke? Or drink? Or do some kind of drugs? I mean when your out heroing you're going to get alot of traum

Something they all at least somewhat have to try and take the edg off or do they have other ways of coping? I am sorry if this sounds like an ask,i was more along the lines trying to get your speculation on the matter

Masterlist

I see what you're saying and I do think that some of them would have had bad habits in the past but yeah-

They do need some time to take the edge off and refocus themselves in the present, but how do they do that in a healthy and safe way?

Let's talk about that.

I don't think I have all the necessary tags so go forth at your own discretion.

Time

Time would have definitely had a drinking problem that would have started in his Termina days.

He's never really felt the need to drink though- he only found that it would have kept him from going crazy.

But as he got out of there and talked more to Malon (and have his supply cut off- (just because he knew where to get it in Termina doesn't mean he knows where to get it in Hyrule, (nor would they give it to him, even if he did))), I like to think that he would have had to find other ways to calm himself down and think rationally through his thoughts and desires.

It happens by accident.

He was working at Lon Lon Ranch when he needed to go chop some wood and he found the repetitive and strenuous work, soothing.

He felt good. Accomplished even.

And a little disappointed when he was finished.

But he started doing that whenever he could and it became his main way to not only blow off some steam but to also calm himself down.

It helps with his anxiety and his need to help feel useful even when nothing is really happening that would require his assistance.

Twilight

Twilight finds that manual labor actually makes his anxiety worse.

He can't really find it within himself to get lost in it because he's already programmed for that to be a part of his day to day life anyway. So his brain can still go on and on even as he gets his chores done.

Twilight finds that a secluded spot with little distraction works best.

He's never really dabbled in other ways to deal with it nor has it come to his mind.

All he knew one say was that everything was too much and that he needed to be in a different area entirely.

No people, no noise.

He likes to hang out by small creeks or by the lake and fish if he really needs an excuse to do something.

Bonus points if he can rest with one of his favorite goats nearby, but that's few and far in between.

It's less meditation and more taking in the moment and letting time slip by for a change.

No to do lists, no action, no survival, no need to be on the run.

Just breath.

Warrior

Warrior would have smoked during the war but I don’t think he’d actually tolerate it all that well. I feel like he’d be more inclined to drink away his problems but with shortages left and right, and all efforts going into the war, there just wouldn’t be enough to go around.

So he’d smoke and hate it.

But it worked in a pinch.

Afterwards, whether through Mask’s and Wind’s influence or the end of the war, he’d want to find a way to quit.

It wasn’t easy but I feel like Warrior would attempt to quit cold turkey. Just drop the habit completely and what does he do when he feels the need arise again?

It’s actually little said than done, but he paints.

It’s less with ink and paint and more so, just moving his hands and a brush around.

If he happens to have a canvas it’s better but again, not easy to come around.

So what Warrior ends up doing most of the time, is taking a brush and some homemade ink from berries and brushing it over his scars. His favorite spot is the massive burn covering his left arm left behind as a gift from the Dragon Knight.

It feels tingly and electric, static follows the brush and the muscles clench with energy from the contact but while it’s uncomfortable for a while, it’s also not entirely unpleasant and it’s soothing to watch and feel. And it grounds Warrior in the moment until he no longer feels the urge.

When the urge is gone, he still does it when he feel anxious and concerned. Late at night is typical time for him to do this, where no one would see him or his scars and judge him for it.

Sky

Sky in the beginning would have slept more than he did before.

He was already inclined to fall asleep easily before all of his trauma, but afterwards he seemed to lose motivation to continue with the idea that things would go back to normal. There was still a lot of expectation placed on his shoulders and it was frankly not something he wanted to deal with.

So he sleeps.

Now this turns into more of a problem with being able to stay awake and to stay concentrated. It’s hard for him to pay attention to anything beyond him and that won’t do, considering me still has to finish his schooling.

What Sky does more often than not to keep him tethered to the present moment is work with his hands. He’s already had the tools for wood whittling but he was never allowed to use them in class and it ends being a bigger mess sometimes than he’s willing to deal with in general.

Sky also has some small pockets of clay that he fidgets with to keep his hands moving and he can keep it under his desk so that it’s not that distracting in class.

It helps him focus and when he thinks about what he’s been through and what he plans to do next, it keeps him from getting overwhelmed.

Wild

I think Wild would have just gone silent and unmoving when he’s having a bad day.

Kind of similar to how he gets when’s trapped in a memory but for longer and he doesn’t eat or sleep. It could last days at a time. He doesn’t even move unless he’s prompted or dragged to the spot.

The lights are on but no one’s home you know.

There’s not a lot he can do when it happens. Everyone just has to wait for it to pass and hope that it passes quickly.

But Wild gets better with time to know the signs when of one of those days is coming.

It’s not much, but Wild like to hop on the back of his horse and just take off.

Feel the rushing wind on his face and through his hair. He’s a full gallop for a while until the poor horse gets tired. At that point he just goes to the nearest stable and exchanges horses to do the whole thing over again.

Sometimes, when that’s not enough, he’ll go base jumping from as high as he can get even using Revali’s Gale to get higher and free fall. Wild is pretty good at catching himself with his paraglider at the last moment and he likes to see all of Hyrule when as he reaches the ground again.

It reminds him that he’s done a lot of good, that he’s capable of doing more good and that life isn’t over just one ended.

Four

Unsurprisingly, sometimes Four gets too lost in his own for his own good.

He’s got a lot to think about and very little way to get it out.

Four would actually throw himself into his work to try and distract himself from the memories, the anxiety, and the guilt of not being enough time and time again even if he saved the day in the end.

This doesn’t help.

He gets so lost into it, in his attempt to stop thinking all together that he completely goes into autopilot and over works himself. Not in the sense that he pulls a muscle and has to take it easy or end up sore and tired and regrets it. No, no. What I mean is that he’ll keep working for days on end.

No sleep.

No food.

Little water.

No fresh air.

It ends up being a hard habit for him to break. Especially since he finds himself continuously trying to fall into a blank mindset even while he actually works to get commissions done.

So what Four has to do is find something else to do. Four more or less always has to have his hands moving, so it’s hard for him to put something down and not working on it.

He likes jigsaw puzzles, he likes to read, but he also likes to make stuff.

So in the end, when Four feel a little overwhelmed and feels himself slip into a self deprivational state, he’ll stop and goes inside his house to do a smaller project.

So he bakes, he knits, he does his puzzels. It’s enough for him to feel productive still but quick enough for him to stay present and make sure he’s still taking care of himself until the restlessness passes.

Wind

Wind doesn’t really have bad habits. He’s still young and processing his adventures.

I’m sure there’s alcohol on the pirate ship because pirates. But I don’t think he’d like it as much as some people want to write him.

Like, sure, a cup or two ain’t bad but I just can’t see Wind having a drinking problem. At least not now as everything stands.

In a few years it’s might be something he would need to be on the look out for if he’s aware enough but he was quite grasped the full implications of his position and trauma yet.

Because he’s just a kid.

He won’t know how twisted what happened to him was until he gets older and can he the age outside of his own mindset.

Wind has nightmares though and they’re ties when he gets memories that he doesn’t want to deal with at the moment- or ever again.

In the moment he thinks of his home, his grandma and his sister instead.

He thinks of his friends, both old and new.

The chain help with distracting him and he’s not above using them for the distraction when he feels that he needs one.

Wind also stretches a lot.

When he was with Warrior, he got into some of the drills they were teaching the soldiers and for some of the nimble ones, they had to start with stretches and he likes it.

So when it gets particularly bad, he throws himself through the motions and holds the poses for a bit longer than necessary.

So yoga. He does yoga.

And it centers him, it clears his head and he feels better after.

Legend

Legend screams.

Legend cries.

Legend will go on a rampage and destroy a whole forest if he’s having a particularly hard day.

Sometimes he’ll go find something big and scary just to fight it.

Blacksmithing is more a hobby for him at this point because it’s not something he can actually see himself doing in the future. It’s just to pass the time and help the day’s go by a little faster.

Legend likes to draw and when he’s tired after throwing whatever tantrum has taken over him, he’d go to a quiet spot and draw whatever he sees.

Sometimes, when he’s paying more attention to himself and he can feel himself getting frustrated and anxious, he takes a few days off.

He leaves his house and his items and goes up a mountain to think with some food, a notebook and some pencils.

He takes up map making.

Legend doesn’t think he’s any good at it, but with al the places he’s been, he tries to make a map for them by memory incase anyone he knows or will meet decides to visit.

His most carefully crafted map is of Koholint for... reasons.

It’s takes him an age and a half and he’s still not done with it, trying to get as much of it onto the paper as he can remember before he grows old and loses them entirely within his memory.

It’s a calming project he finds. He doesn’t feel sad when he does this for Marin for the people and their memory. It keeps them alive in his heart and sometimes he draws something on the map that doesn’t quite fit into his memory about the island but something tells him to keep it because it was there. Because he was only a visitor to their home.

The locals would know.

He feels good keeping them alive in some way.

It’s what she they would have wanted.

It’s what she they deserve.

She They always wanted to travel and it’s better to have a map to do so.

He takes up map making.

Hyrule

I don’t think Hyrule’s... Hyrule has a lot of these methods to go around. He wouldn’t have been exposed to drugs or alcohol simply because there’s too little people for him to interact with.

And if he was, I don’t think he’s use them as a coping mechanism simply because they would be too difficult obtain and gather to be sufficient.

I think that Hyrule would actually hang out with a Great Fairies by her pool when times got particularly rough.

There’s something about the place that resonates with him and feels calming, safe and relaxing to him.

As a bonus he’s always welcomed so he can pop in and stay for days at a time if he ever needed to.

He does not stay there for days.

But he appreciates the offer.

Hyrule doesn’t stay for more than few hours at a time because he doesn’t want to attract any monsters to his safe spots but even if the fairies don’t use any magic on him, he’s always rejuvenated afterwards and he feel like he can take on anything.

And given the world he comes from- it’s needed.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #I know this wasn't really a request either #and I did say they were clsoed #but this was already going to get long #and it's more headcanons again #so into the queue it goes #bad habits #tw alchoholism #tw anxiety #tw smoking #tw addiction #pinky replies #pinky answers

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

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Honest and Truly

Summary: Spencer has his prom 10 years late, but none of that matters when it's with the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female (She/Her)-- Fluff

CW: Minimal vulgar language (PG-13)

Author's Note: This just might be my most favorite thing I've written in a very long time :) Also listen to the song I linked, it makes the title and the ending make more sense! thank you to @spookydrreid and @writhingintheroses for helping me a particular scene!!

Add yourself to my taglist! It makes it much easier for me :)

Honest and Truly

“A prom?” Spencer asks, realizing that the conversation had entered uncharted territory, a territory in which he had not a single clue how to navigate. Spencer, being a preteen in high school, never attended prom.

“Yes, Reid. A prom,” Penelope says, staring at him over the many monitors and stuffed cats that littered her desk, “It’s going to be so much fun!” she says, excitedly.

“That sounds like, uh, I’ll have plans that night,” Spencer tells Penelope, spinning around in the swivel chair as he eats his turkey and cheese sandwich. He usually enjoys their lunches together, but when Penelope gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

@s“Now I don’t believe that for a second, Reid. The only time that you have plans is when you’re with Y/N. And Y/N is going to be at this prom,” Garcia says, her pink glasses sliding down her nose. She winks at Reid, almost like she enjoys watching him squirm.

“How do you know that she’s going? Did she say she’s going?” Spencer asks, unable to conceal his eagerness that Y/N could be attending. Spencer might hate dancing and those fancy shoes that are too tight on his toes, but all that can be talked away if Y/N is there.

“Yes, she’s going because you’re asking her. That and I’m making everyone go,” Penelope says matter of factly.

Spencer opens his mouth, attempting to talk away Penelope’s suggestion. But Spencer Reid is a smart man and he knows better than trying to argue his way out with Penelope. Especially when it comes to Y/N. He might have an excellent poker face, but Spencer can’t hide his love for Y/N.

“I’m not going to ask her. You know she’ll think it’s because-” Spencer says, prepping for a long winded rant before the door of Penelope’s office swings open.

Y/N, with two coffees in hand, floats into the room like she’s walking on air. Or maybe it’s Spencer’s mind that’s floating when Y/N walks in. He can never tell. Whenever he’s near her, it’s like everything is sweeter, lighter and airier. Wordlessly, she passes the coffee to Spencer. Feeling her fingertips graze his reminds him of how pathetic he must be. He nods, telling her thanks, knowing that he’s unable to fully articulate just how grateful he is for the littlest things.

“Who are you not going to ask and to where, Spence?” Y/N says, leaning against the filing cabinets and sipping her coffee. Penelope, never one to be quiet, silently watches as Spencer and Y/N converse. Spencer looks up at her, feeling that light and airy feeling again. He brushes his hair that falls against his forehead nervously thinking of an answer.

“I- uh, I was thinking of asking my mother to come stay with me for a couple of weeks. You know, she hasn’t seen DC in a couple of years. And I do have some personal days banked,” Spencer says, telling Y/N a small white lie.

“She’s in Vegas, right?” Y/N asks, interested in what Spencer is saying, which is something that he’s still not used to. Spencer nods, smiling awkwardly.

“Yeah, she says that she likes the heat,” Spencer says, hating how formal and cold the conversation sounds. It’s normally flowing with easy and familiarity, but something is wedged between them. Penelope, long forgotten by the pair, types rapidly on her keyboard.

“You know, Spence. If you’re up for it maybe we can have lunch or meet at Elmwood Park. I’d love to meet the woman that made my favorite person,” she says, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes. Her stare is so intense that it’s like she’s looking into his soul. He thinks that if she looks deep enough she’ll see her own reflection because his soul belongs to her.

“I-I uh,” Spencer says, immediately thinking that he should actually invite his mother out for a visit, “I think that’s a good idea. She likes the sites and all,” he tells her nervously, trying to ease his beating heart.

He’s her favorite person.

Out of all the people in this city, this world. He’s her favorite person. Spencer, a lover of math, is tempted to figure out the odds of being his favorite person’s favorite person. He knows it’s slim. He knows it’s rare. It’s something magical and Spencer is terrified he’s going to ruin it. He’s terrified he’s going to fuck something up that’s not even his.

“It’s a date,” Y/N says, turning to Penelope, who’s still long forgotten, “Oh, Penny, you need to yell at Morgan for me. He ate my leftovers,” she tells Penelope, who feigns horror, “And now I don’t have lunch”

“How dare he!” Penelope says, her exaggerated response inciting chuckles, “he can get away with murder because he’s pretty,” she says, shaking her head.

He knows that she’s pretending to be disappointed, but he still doesn’t like to see it. Spencer unwraps the other half of his turkey and cheese sandwich and hands it to Y/N. She looks surprised, as if Spencer just handed her a million bucks.

“Spence, you don’t have to,” Y/N says, softly, handing back the half of the sandwich, “It’s your sandwich, I don’t want you to feel-”

“Eat it, Y/N,” Spencer says firmly, looking straight at Y/N, “You need to eat something. We both live off coffee as it is,” he says, hoping that Y/N will take the sandwich.

He’s looking straight at her and she’s looking straight at him. Spencer wonders if he looks deep enough he’ll reach her soul. He dares to think that if he can find her soul, he’ll stare at his face. He’s her favorite person after all, that’s got to count for something.

“Thanks, Spence,” Y/N says, smiling softly, “You make the best sandwiches,” she tells him, taking a bite of the sandwich as Garcia’s eyes flit from Spencer to Y/N. Back and forth, she watches the pair engage in the world’s best miscommunication.

“Y/N, did you hear? I’m throwing a prom!” Garcia says excitedly, hoping that Y/N’s reaction will be more enthusiastic than Spencer’s.

“A prom?” Y/N asks, unconvincingly, “God, I hated my prom. I got punched spilled all over my dress and my date tried to sneak alcohol into the banquet hall. It was a shitshow,” Y/N says, remembering the less than happy memories from high school.

“I didn’t go to prom. You know, between being a 12 year old and a dork,” Spencer says, self deprecatingly, “It’s not the ideal scenario, but I am familiar with the cultural significance of proms in American high school,” Spencer says, speaking to no one in particular, yet looking at Y/N directly.

“Maybe we’ll both get the prom night we deserve, Spence,” Y/N offers, tossing out her wax paper wrapper. She walks past him and it’s like the air is sweeter. He believes in science, but loves magic. Y/N is magic.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, refusing to make eye contact with Penelope, “you know, sorry to uh, cut this short. I have some paperwork to finish. Hotch’s been on me all day about it. So, uh, see you later,” he says, walking out of Penelope's office like a bat out of hell.

He tries to ignore the knowing stares from Penelope and Y/N’s confusion as he ducks out and walks into the bullpen. Spencer doesn’t have paperwork. He finished all his paperwork by 11:12 am. But what Spencer does have is a flight from Vegas to Quantico to book.

And prom shopping.

___

As it turns out, Spencer doesn’t know much about teenage American culture. Sure he’s seen 90s movies that Y/N forced him to watch. But it was quite difficult to pay attention when all he could feel was Y/N’s fingers brushing up against his in their shared bucket of popcorn or her head laying against his shoulder when she got tired.

He doesn’t know much of anything when it comes to romance. But he knows that he loves Y/N— and hopefully that’s enough. He still hasn’t asked her if she’d go with him. Honestly, he’s not too sure why he even has to ask her in the first place. She’s going to be there already, but Garcia and Morgan convinced him that it’s part of the so-called “Prom Experience”

“Spence,” Y/N says, she’s perched on the tall bar stool and rests her elbows on her kitchen island, “did you find a suit yet? I was thinking that we can go to that vintage store on Rock Ave. They have a surprisingly good size selection, and I think that this whole vintage thing fits your aesthetic really well,”

“My aesthetic?” Spencer questions, again lost at sea.

“You know, you’re like nerdy chic. Equal parts dorky and equal parts handsome,” she tells him. He feels his cheeks burn at her words.

Handsome

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” Spencer says, eyeing Y/N over the rim of his hot coffee.

“It is,” Y/N says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like him being handsome is just as obvious as him being dorky, “And get your wallet. We’re going to the vintage store,”

Spencer has a hate-love relationship with weekends. He loves spending time with Y/N where it was so easy to pretend that she loves him as he loves her. He hates the weekends for the same reason he loves them. Spencer knows that it’s all fake. It’s a façade of the truth.

“Spence! You’d look great in this,” Y/N suggests, holding up a gray sports coat, “I think it will match your eyes perfectly,”

“If you think so, Y/N,” Spencer says, nodding his head in agreement. She continues eyeing him as if she’s imagining what he’d look like in the jacket. He has to admit, it’s a very nice jacket.

“Come on, Spence. There’s a mirror over in the corner. Try it on for me,” she requests and not even a second later Spencer finds himself being dragged by the hand to try on the suit jacket.

Y/N holds the jacket open for him as he slips it on through his arms. He’s surprised to realize that it fits perfectly. He looks into the mirror, staring at his face and Y/N, who tugs and smooths the jacket. Spencer can’t look too much longer because if he does the lines between reality and fantasy will be difficult to distinguish. As much as he wants to stare into the mirror all day long, pretending that this is real, he much rather it actually be real. But wishing and dreaming only ends up with battle wounds and broken hearts.

“You look very handsome, Spencer. Very handsome,” Y/N says, staring into the mirror too now. But she’s not looking at the jacket, she’s looking at him. The beat of silence lasts longer than what’s comfortable, “Um, I think, I saw some pants that would look good on you, with this jacket, I mean,” she says, stumbling over her words. She’s not looking in the mirror any more, her gaze is noticeably away from Spencer and the mirror.

“Okay, uh, whatever you think, Y/N,” Spencer says, “I’m not even sure why I agreed to this thing. I don’t dance,” he says, regretting his choice to go to Penelope’s prom, but feeling guilty for maybe disappointing Y/N all in one breath.

“Did you ask her yet?” Y/N asks, holding up a pair of similarly gray colored pants. She must notice his confusion, “You know Austin, the woman you heroically saved. Does any of it ring a bell, Spence?” Y/N teases. Spencer feels his cheeks burn and his heart tighten, that happens a lot around Y/N.

“Oh Austin, uh no. She wasn’t interested in me, after all,” Spencer says, shifting his weight and staring at his converse, “I mean, I should have seen it coming. It’s transference, that’s like Psych 101,” he says, feeling strange. It was odd when Austin broke up with him, even if you can consider it breaking up. He felt a strange sense of relief when it happened, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Y/N clicks her tongue in annoyance as she walks over to Spencer. Tugging slightly on the sleeves of the jacket she says, “well she’s not as smart as I thought she was. You have to be a complete fool to let someone like you go,” she says quietly. She’s standing too close, looking too beautiful, and seeming too perfect for Spencer to not be completely enamoured.

Then it breaks, like shattered glass. The rosey glasses are lifted, leaving only cheeks that sting with nervousness and hearts the yearn for something a little more tangible.

“Stop staring at me and go try it on,” Y/N says, handing him the pair of pants, “Oh and I’m going to look for a vest and a tie to match. This store is unbelievable,” she tells him, pushing him into the makeshift dressing room.

Spencer puts on the pants, which fit, despite being maybe an inch or two loose in the waist. He looks into the tall mirror, which is noticeably empty without Y/N standing with him. A floating hand, belonging to Y/N appears. She holds a burgundy tie and a dark brown vest, both of which are very Spencer. He smiles slightly, strangely happy that Y/N has picked something out that’s perfect for him.

“Tell me when you’re decent,” she says, her voice muffled by the curtain that separates them. He sticks his head out of the curtain, his eyes immediately finding Y/N’s.

“Ohh, Spence, you look amazing. Very handsome,” she says, her hands clasped around the tie, tugging just like she did with his suit jacket before, “What do you think?” she asks, looking at him curiously.

“It’s nice,” Spencer offers, approaching this like he does everything: cautiously, “I do like the texture,” he says, running his hands up and down the sleeves of the jacket.

“You look more than nice, Spence. I know I’ve said it like 30 times, but you look very handsome,” she says. Spencer hopes that she means it. He needs something to be real. Sometimes besides what he feels, because what he feels is the realest thing in the world.

“It’s nice to hear,” Spencer says, “you know from someone who’s not my mother,” he jokes, shrugging off the jacket and grabbing the hanger from Y/N.

“You deserve to hear it,” Y/N says so softly Spencer wonders if she’s saying it all. That beat of silence, followed by the awkwardness is back.

“So, uh, I saw a dress that I’m going to try on,” Y/N tells him, her gaze shifting everywhere but Spencer’s eyes.

“I’ll go pay for this,” Spencer says, walking back into the dressing room and the mirror that lies to his face.

___

Back in Y/N’s car, Spencer shifts in the passenger seat trying to find a way to sit comfortably while holding his suit jacket, pants and vest. Y/N hangs up her dress, that’s wrapped in a gown bag. She wouldn’t let Spencer see the dress, despite her practically picking out his entire outfit.

“So what’s next,” Spencer asks, as Y/N gets into the car. She smiles over at him sheepishly, leading Spencer to think she’s got another trick up her sleeve.

“I’ve got a confession, Spence. And please don’t hate me for it,” Y/N says, her voice coming out a little nervous as she eyes Spencer.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, even if I tried. And I’m certain I’ll never have to,” he says softly, resting his hand over hers on the console. He rubs the back of her hand gently, thinking about just how easy things are with her. If he could only be a little braver, maybe then the mirror wouldn’t be so empty.

“Okay. I knew that things didn’t work out with you and Austin. I overheard you telling Derek,” Y/N confesses, “And I know that it makes me a horrible friend or whatever, but I’m sorry that I eavesdropped,”

“Oh, uh how much did you hear?” Spencer asks, suddenly quite nervous. He can feel his heart drop, waiting for the moment when Y/N laughs at the thought of her loving him. He knows that it’s not fair to her, but then again all is fair is love and war.

“Enough to know that you’re still hung up or or someone else. I left once my conscience got the better of me. Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout,” she says, making the three finger salute that’s common in scouting, “I just wanted to hear it from you, you know you’re my favorite person and all,” she says, a frown forming.

“I think, uh,” Spencer says, “That I was just a little embarrassed. You know how Derek and Penelope and Emily and JJ can get. It’s basically just you and Hotch who aren’t jumping down my throat about being, you know, alone,” he says, chuckling awkwardly.

“They just want to help you, Spence. In their own ways, but I’m always on Team Spencer. You never got to worry about that,” Y/N offers, squeezing his hand.

He considers what she says, not responding verbally, but nodding his head. He hasn’t ever had someone on his “team”, so it’s strange. But a good kind of strange.

“Spence, you okay? I wanted to give you something. To be truthful, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to do this for awhile,”

“Ask me what?” he questions, wondering what she has in store. He watches as Y/N rummages in his bag, clearly looking for something. He’s thoroughly confused when she pulls out a TI-84.

“What on earth?” Spencer says, as she places the calculator in his hands. Her sly grin, beaming up at him only further proves his point: his heart just beats faster around her.

“Just shut and press the on button. You’d think that a genius would know how to work a calculator,” she comments, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You know, I never used these. I can just do it in my head faster,” Spencer says, winking at Y/N when she pushes him teasingly.

“God, Spencer just turn it on!” she demands, very apparently getting more and more impatient.

He turns the calculator on and is brought to a green screen that has a picture of a graph. Spencer raises his eyebrow, as if to ask Y/N for the next direction.

“Press the graph button,” she says, getting quieter as Spencer looks at her.

He presses the button that she said to, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen. Spencer watches as the screen draws four black lines running parallel to each other. A curved line is drawn on the first two black lines, forming the letters “P” and “R”. The screen continues to draw, making an oval that looks like an “O” and the last two parallel lines are joined together with a “v” shape, forming the letter “M”. He takes a second glance, reading the 4 letter word slowly.

P-R-O-M

“Well?” she asks, waiting for his answer.

He’s speechless. Spencer blinks. It’s like his brain has stopped working. It’s a prom, a stupid prom that’s 10 years too late. But it’s the girl of dreams that’s asking him. And that’s the stuff those rom-coms he couldn’t pay attention to are made of.

“I mean, of course. Of course, Y/N,” Spencer says, dropping the calculator into the cup holder and leaning in to hug Y/N.

His heart stops again. Falling into that tricky habit of either speeding up or stopping when she’s around. He thinks he’s ready to implode when she pecks his cheek. Her lips don’t linger, hardly touching his skin for it to be considered a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d want to go with anyone else,” she says, mumbling into his skin. She seals his fate with her lips against his skin. Never again will Spencer imagine what it’s like to have her lips against his skin. Even though it’s a fraction of the time he’d want, it’s tattooed in his mind.

“I’m not much of a dancer, by the way,” Spencer says, reluctantly letting go and sitting back into the passenger’s seat, “so don’t expect too much,” he jokes.

“Oh you better watch it, Doctor Reid. I’m getting you on the dance floor, even if you hate it,” Y/N says, smiling as she backs out of the parking spot and turns into the street.

Spencer looks out the window, thinking to himself that there’s probably nothing he can hate if he’s doing it with Y/N.

Spencer didn’t go to prom in high school. He didn’t do a lot of the traditional things that most former high schoolers reminisce about at his age. He didn’t go to football games or have a best friend to make lifelong memories with.

He didn’t have any of that, until now.

But it’s prom night, 10 years late. His hands are sweaty and his mouth feels dry. Spencer wasn’t this nervous for even his first day at the BAU all those years ago. He tries to fix the burgundy tie that Y/N picked out at the vintage store. It looks crooked and twisted. Nothing like when Y/N tied perfectly in the store for him. He supposes that he can wait till she comes to pick him up.

The mirror, again, is noticeably empty without Y/N standing beside him. He can get lost in there, thinking about her standing with him. He does, because it feels like seconds later when he hears a rapid knocking on his apartment door.

Standing on the other side of the door is Y/N. She wears a sage green dress that looks like it’s made of softest silk. He smiles at her, not sure if he can trust his words. Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much thinking when all he can focus on is the tiny straps that rest on her shoulders or how the sage green compliments her skin tone.

“You look, god. You’re beautiful,” Spencer says, partly under his breath partly aloud to Y/N, “so beautiful,” he says again, focusing on her eyes.

“And you’re looking very dashing in that suit, Spence,” she says, pushing her way in, “do you need help with your tie?” she asks, looking at the tie he holds in his hand.

“Yes, please,” he says sheepishly. He holds out the burgundy colored tie, but takes his hand back as an idea crosses his mind, “oh wait here, I’ll be right back,” Spencer says, walking quickly to his bedroom.

“Alright,” Y/N says sceptically, “Don’t ditch me, Reid!” she calls out from the living room.

Spencer returns, hiding the new tie behind his back. He places an olive green tie with dusty blue and pink flowers in her hands. He notices her smile grow, realizing that he’s picking a new tie for a reason.

“I might not know much about prom, but I think that we’re supposed to match. You know, since we’re going together,” he offers, “but I need help putting it on,” he says.

“We’re going to match!” Y/N says excitedly. As she unbuttons the first button on Spencer’s cream colored shirt he holds his breath. He can’t breathe when she’s this close. Her fingers are quick and nimble as they feed the tie around his neck and elegantly create a knot. If Spencer wasn’t already in love, he knows that watching her eyes twinkle and her tongue poke out as she concentrates would make him declare it then and there.

“So handsome,” she says, using that quiet voice that makes it seem like she’s talking to herself rather than him, “I can’t wait to dance with you,” she tells him tugging the tie.

“I’m not going to be good, Y/N. I’m going to be a fool,” Spencer says, lamenting already about what an idiot he’s going to look like in front of Y/N.

“That’s nonsense, Spence,” Y/N says, waving him away with a toss of her hand, “You’re going to be the best dancer there,” she tells him rubbing her hand up and down his arm, like she did at the store.

“Would you believe it, if I told you I never danced with anyone?” Spencer says, being the most honest and true he’s ever been.

“We can change that,” Y/N says, stepping towards Spencer and linking her hand in his. She squeezes, restarting and stopping his heart all in one go, “oh wait we need music,” she says, feeling around for where her phone usually is.

“I got it,” Spencer says, stepping away from Y/N. He walks over to the small record player in the corner of his living room. He doesn’t play it too often, the records he has were once his mother’s and they’re too painful to play most days. But Spencer’s sure that he can make every exception to all his rules for Y/N. Maybe he’ll get some happy memories out of it.

“Going old school I see,” Y/N says, teasingly as Spencer walks over grabbing both his hands in hers, “everything about you is very charming, Doctor Reid,” she says, softly swaying to the jazzy tunes of Sarah Vaughan.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Spencer says, following Y/N’s lead as she floats around his living room, carrying him everywhere she goes. She rests her head against his chest and Spencer swears that she’s going to get a concussion from how hard his heart beats.

They’re alone, no audience to witness the moment that Spencer wonders if he can dare to call intimate. It’s intimate to him because every moment with Y/N is intimate. Maybe if someone had told Spencer that dancing like this could bring pure paradise all the way from your fingertips to your eyelashes, maybe he would have done it sooner.

“You’re quite the romantic, Spencer,” Y/N says as the song comes to a close. The record player stops, but they don’t stop swaying, “And you told me you couldn’t dance,” she scoffs lightly, with her head still resting against his chest.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, “me being romantic,”

“I don’t think that I’d want it any other way, Spencer,” Y/N says, removing her head from his chest and her hand from his. She cups his face, touching him lightly. Y/N holds him like he aches to be held. It’s gentle and tender, yet leaves him desiring more.

“Honest?” Spencer asks, daring to be brave.

“Truly,” she responds.

Spencer shifted slightly, so he can also hold her face in his hands. Y/N drops her hands though, wrapping them around Spencer’s waist to pull them closer together. Spencer’s phantom fingers are like that dance around that dance around Y/N’s skin.

It’s Y/N that initiates the kiss. She moves in slowly and tenuously, looking just as nervous as Spencer is. He’s shaky slightly, the anticipation getting to his head when all he can see is Y/N’s eyes looking into his and all he can think about is how soft her skin is. It’s all he’s ever wanted to think about. Her lips are soft and pillowy.

But it’s more than that.

Kissing her is everything to Spencer. It’s the breathy sighs she lets out as he moves his hands and rests them securely behind her neck. It’s the peachy scent of her perfume that’s so sweet and strong it should be overwhelming when all it is, is intoxicating. Kissing her is dizzying and terrifying, but wonderful and sweet. He can’t tell where his lips start and where her’s end, but it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t open his eyes because he knows he’s facing the mirror. But unlike before, he doesn’t need a mirror to know what he’s looking at. He can look into his soul for that.

“Very romantic,” Y/N says, smiling through the quick kisses she plants on his jawline, “I always thought you’d be a romantic,” he tells him.

Spencer brushes his thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip. It’s puffy and bitten from his kisses, but he thinks that it would be a shame to not bite and kiss it some more. He smiles so hard he knows that he’ll wake up in the morning and his mouth will hurt. But that’s the least of his worries if Y/N’s there to kiss it better.

“Honest?” Spencer says, calling back to the song, that’s now their song.

“Truly,”

---

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perpetual-stories · 3 years

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How To Fight Writers Block

hello, hello. hope everyone is doing well. as you can all tell, this post will be about how to fight writers block.

it’s really annoying to me when I hear people say “oh you don’t have writers block, you’re just lazy.”

first of all, yes, I am naturally lazy. second of all, how dare you. writing isn’t as easy as many think. granted, all you have to do is write down words on paper, but it’s not always easy to find the right words to express what you are feeling, or what you wish to say.

I have had terrible writer’s block for the last few days and it’s horrible! as a business owner or a small writing store, I have to be ready to write and fulfill my clients’ ideas and orders.

it’s not easy. It takes a heavy toll on my imagination, and digs me a deep pit of blockage, drowning in the lack of originality because of the constant writing and repetition or certain phrases and sentences in different projects.

i am making this post in the hopes to remind myself about over coming the dreaded and sometimes skeptically believed writer’s block.

What is writer’s block?

Yeah, I know. We all know what that is, but let me define it.

is the state of being unable to proceed with writing, and/or the inability to start writing something new

some people believe it to be a real problem, others believe it's “all in your head”

What Causes Writer’s Block?

in the 1970s, clinical psychologists Jerome Singer and Michael Barrios decided to find out

they concluded that there are four broad causes of writer's block:

Excessively harsh self-criticism

Fear of comparison to other writers

Lack of external motivation, like attention and praise

Lack of internal motivation, like the desire to tell one's story

How to overcome writer's block: 20 tips

1. Develop a writing routine:

Author and artist Twyla Tharp once wrote: “Creativity is a habit, and the best creativity is a result of good work habits.”

it might seem counterintuitive

if you only write when you “feel creative,” you're bound to get stuck in a tar pit of writer's block

The only way to push through is by disciplining yourself to write on a regular schedule. It might be every day, every other day, or just on weekends — but whatever it is, stick to it!

2. Use "imperfect" words:

A writer can spend hours looking for the perfect word or phrase to illustrate a concept

You can avoid this fruitless endeavor by putting, “In other words…” and simply writing what you’re thinking, whether it’s eloquent or not

You can then come back and refine it later by doing a CTRL+F search for “in other words.”

3. Do non-writing activities:

one of the best ways to climb out of a writing funk is to take yourself out of your own work and into someone else’s

Go to an exhibition, to the cinema, to a play, a gig, eat a delicious meal

immerse yourself in great STUFF and get your synapses crackling in a different way

Snippets of conversations, sounds, colors, sensations will creep into the space that once felt empty

4. Freewrite through it:

free-writing involves writing for a pre-set amount of time without pause — and without regard for grammar, spelling, or topic. You just write.

The goal of freewriting is to write without second-guessing yourself — free from doubt, apathy, or self-consciousness, all of which contribute to writer's block. Here’s how:

Find the right surroundings. Go somewhere you won't be disturbed.

Pick your writing utensils. Will you type at your computer, or write with pen and paper? (Tip: if you're prone to hitting the backspace button, you should freewrite the old-fashioned way!)

Settle on a time-limit. Your first time around, set your timer for just 10 minutes to get the feel for it. You can gradually increase this interval as you grow more comfortable with freewriting.

5. Relax on your first draft:

Many writers suffer form perfectionism, which is especially debilitating during a first draft

“Blocks often occur because writers put a lot of pressure on themselves to sound ‘right’ the first time. A good way to loosen up and have fun again in a draft is to give yourself permission to write imperfectly.” — editor Lauren Hughes

perfect is the enemy of good,” so don't agonize about getting it exactly right! You can always go back and edit, maybe even get a second pair of eyes on the manuscript

6. Don’t start at the beginning:

the most intimidating part of writing is the start, when you have a whole empty book to fill with coherent words

instead of starting with the chronological beginning of whatever it is you’re trying to write, dive into middle, or wherever you feel confident

7. Take a shower:

Have you ever noticed that the best ideas tend to arrive while in the shower, or while doing other “mindless” tasks?

research shows that when you’re doing something monotonous (such as showering, walking, or cleaning), your brain goes on autopilot, leaving your unconscious free to wander without logic-driven restrictions

showering is my favourite thing to do if I may add

8. Balance your inner critic:

successful writers have in common is the ability to hear their inner critic, respectfully acknowledge its points, and move forward

You don't need to completely ignore that critical voice, nor should you cower before it

you must establish a respectful, balanced relationship, so you can address what's necessary and skip over what's insecure and irrelevant

9. Switch up your tool:

a change of scenery can really help with writer's block. However, that scenery doesn't have to be your physical location — changing up your writing tool can be just as big a help!

if you’ve been typing on your word processor of choice, try switching to pen and paper. Or if you're just sick of Google Docs, consider using specialized novel writing software.

10. Change your POV:

great advice from editor Lauren Hughes: “When blocked, try to see your story from another perspective ‘in the room’ to help yourself move beyond the block. How might a minor character narrate the scene if they were witnessing it? A ‘fly on the wall’ or another inanimate object?

11. Exercise your creative muscles:

Any skill requires practice if you want to improve, and writing is no different! So if you’re feeling stuck, perhaps it’s time for a strengthening scribble-session to bolster your abilities

12. Map out your story:

If your story has stopped chugging along, help it pick up steam by taking a more structured approach — specifically, by writing an outline

13. Write something else:

Though it's important to try and push through writer's block with what you're actually working on, sometimes it's simply impossible

feel free to push your current piece to the side for now and write something new

14. Work on your characters:

It follows that if your characters are not clearly defined, you’re more likely to run into writer’s block

15. Stop writing for readers:

write for yourself, not your potential readers

this will help you reclaim the joy of being creative and get you back in touch with what matters: the story.

this is something I really need to do. because of my etsy business i don't write for fun anymore, but instead as a business and a deadline. i'm going to have to pull out my old crappy wattled fanfics or write some new ones.

16. Try a more visual process:

when words fail you, forget them and get visual. Create mind maps, drawings, Lego structures — ideally related to your story, but whatever unblocks your mind!

17. Look for the root of it:

writer’s block often comes from a problem deeper than simple “lack of inspiration.” So let's dig deep: why are you really blocked? Ask yourself the following questions:

Do I feel pressure to succeed and/or competition with other writers?

Have I lost sight of what my story is about, or interest in where it's going?

Do I lack confidence in my own abilities, even if I've written plenty before?

Have I not written for so long that I feel intimidated by the mere act?

Am I simply feeling tired and run-down?

once you identify what's wrong, it'll be so much easier to fix.

18. Quit the Internet:

If willpower isn’t your strong suit and your biggest challenge is staying focused, try a site blocker like Freedom or an app like Cold Turkey

19. Let the words find you:

meditate, go for a walk, take that shower

Word Palette is a great app that features a keyboard of random words, allowing you to simply click your way to your next masterpiece.

You can also try AI auto-completers like Talk to Transformer, where you can enter a phrase and let the app “guess what comes next.”

even though they often produce nonsense, it's a great way to help that writer's block.

20. Write like Hemingway:

And if your biggest block is your own self-doubt about your prose, Hemingway offers suggestions to improve your writing as you go

it's a pretty cool app if you ask me.

it highlights your sentences (if need be) and makes suggestions on how to improve them!

well, there you have it! a lengthy post on how to fight writer's block. now i just hope i can combat my own soon.

like, comment and reblog if you find this useful! feel free to reblog in instagram and tag me perpetualstories

Follow me on instagram and tumblr for more writing and grammar tips and more!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writersconnection #writersofig #writersofinstagram #writings

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solliewriter · 3 years

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Archery for Writers

In this post, I'll basically tell you the small stuff: e.g., what your archer will complain about to other archers, how different bows sound, what it's like shooting in the rain or snow, finding the goddamn arrows, etc. I’m also going into technical details and will discuss the legendary Robin Hood shot.

If you want a good basic primer, T.S. Strange on Instagram did a pretty good job https://www.instagram.com/p/COat-W1rQ7o/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

But, if you're ready for beyond the basics, I've got you covered.

To be clear, my knowledge of archery is primarily Western traditional archery. PLEASE research the history of the type of bow you choose as they’re all unique. There’s a reason why Mongolian bows are so different than English longbows.

I have primarily shot in thick, brushy forest (not parks, actual wilderness), so when you read, that I'm talking about that setting unless specified. My favored bow is a reflex/deflex, which is basically a recurve/longbow hybrid. I have also been doing archery for as long as I can remember, so yes I know how to shoot.

SOUNDS

Different bows make different sounds. Recurve bows are loud. They make this twangy sound when you use them, unless you put a silencer on the string. This silencer is usually a fluff-type thing that is woven around and through the string. The silencer doesn't make them perfectly silent. It's more of a muffler than a silencer.

Longbows are quieter, but they still make noise. It's short, grunt-like hum that usually only the archer and their immediate compatriots can hear.

For Your Character (FYC): a recurve archer and a longbow archer will very likely pester each other about noise.

SIGHT, pt1

You can shoot blind. Sorta. No, you can't put on a blindfold and still hit your target, but you can and will extrapolate what you see. As mentioned, I've done almost all of my shooting in the forest, in the mountains. Visibility is less than perfect. You have to aim through hundreds of branches, and the likelihood of hitting a branch and sending your arrow flying into No Man's Land is very likely as a beginner and amateur. Shooting through the forest isn't like in Lord of the Rings or Hunger Games, unless that forest is a well maintained park with marked trails made by things other than deer and bear. (FYI, bear trails are perfect for humans.) Half the time, if you move an inch the wrong way, your arrow will be way off target. Missing by an inch means missing by several feet, which is really far in archery.

More than once, you see your target at one angle, but can't shoot it at another. I've experienced this frequently because my Viking sized dad will pick targets that I, his 5'2" daughter, am too short to see. I have to stand on tip toes to see his target, then lower myself into almost a crouch to shoot. I still hit the target.

FYC: Besides the obvious banter that comes from discussing height differences, there are a few other things to note. In the forest, it can be hard to find two good angles to shoot something. This can lead to frustration, complaining, attempts to get the other archer out of the way, and etc.

SIGHT, pt 2

I’m talking about recurve/longbows, so there are no actual sights to look through.

This is where things are controversial. There’s a gap shooting and an instinctive shooting. Gap shooters guess the distance, then aim. Instinctive shooters just sorta ... wing it.

I’m not going to throw shade at either method. But here’s a key reason why one would use one style or another: gap shooting is largely ineffective in mountainous, forested terrain when you can’t really see much. So, if you have an archer from a prairie and an archer from the mountains, it’s likely they use different aiming styles.

Side note: Flu-flu shots are unique and fun shots that use big feathery arrows. You shoot nearly straight up in hopes of getting your arrow on top of the target rather than straight toward it. When doing this, you can either look at the target or look at your arrow angle, but you can't do both at the same time. You have to shoot blind. Flu-flu shots aren't good for killing creatures, but they are pure fun. This is a good example of using instinctive shooting rather than gap shooting. Also, flu-flu shots are prone to being highly effective by the wind, and it’s very easy to get them stuck in a tree for all eternity. There’s a shooting area my roving family calls “The Valley of Lost Flu-Flu’s.” It’s called this for very good reason.

SMELLS

Bows don't smell, unless you've just added beeswax to the string (strings fray, wax stops that). Arrows smell for about a day after you paint them and glue them.

Leather, however, smells and remains smelly forever. I personally like the smell (though I suppose I'm actually smelling the oil, not the leather). It's very hard to describe, partially because I have so many memories involved. Unfortunately, I have to leave this to you. Just note, leather from armguards, quivers, and pouches don't smell the same as couches and your typical urbanite materials. Find your hippie friend and ask them to make you a leather bracelet or something. That'll teach you the smell.

FYC: Your archer will have very strong memories associated with the smell of leather and beeswax. They will be warm fuzzy memories.

TOUCH, aka shooting in the cold weather

All right, it's cold, and your character is wearing a big coat. Big, puffy sleeves to fit all those layers beneath. No biggie, just nock the arrow, draw, and shoot ...

FWAP!

The string hits the character's coat sleeve. The arrow goes about ten feet before falling limp to the ground like a sad puppy.

To fix this, you need to tie a thick band around your character's sleeve. Easy peasy.

Now, your OC tries shooting again. Unfortunately, it’s been raining, so to their dismay, they've noticed that their turkey fletchings (standard in the western US states) have flattened and shrunk. It looks like there is barely any fletching at all. Fear not, the arrow will still fly. It'll just make aiming a bit harder, but not terribly worse. Those fletchings are just stabilizers.

Your OC goes home. When they take off their shooting glove/tab, they notice their fingers are yellow. Oh no! Don't worry, your OC is not sick, the dye has just come off the leather in the rain. It'll wash off, but it'll probably happen every time the leather gets wet for the next few months unless your OC makes a new glove/tab that isn't dyed.

LEFTIE VS RIGHTIE

It is extremely uncommon to find a left-handed archer. This is because even if someone’s right-handed doing their day-to-day things, it doesn’t mean they’re going to be right-handed for archery.

In archery, whether you shoot left or right handed is determined by your eye dominance. Most people are right-eyed dominant, so much so it’s very hard for a left-eye dominant archer (such as myself) to find new bows. And I mean really hard. Go anywhere and there’s a severe shortage of left-dominant archery gear simply because it’s that rare (hah I’m special- jk).

BOWS

There are manufactured bows (lame), and there are good bows. Yes, there’s a huge difference.

I’m not sure of the technical terms, but here’s my experience.

Manufactured bows, i.e., the cheap bows you find at a renaissance fair, are typically made from a type of plastic. Good traditional bows, from almost any country, are custom-made from wood that the bowyer (bow-maker) has shaped, treated, and glued.

Bows are a lot like musical instruments. Essentially, manufactured bows (or guitars, violins, etc.) are poor quality because they’re made of cheap materials which make the shooting quality less than superb (more on that later), and because they aren’t given the attention they need, which makes them of lesser quality because they’re just ... eh. Special treatment makes for a better bow.

Like musical instruments, there are a lot of different types. Most websites say there are only four (recurve, longbow, compound, and crossbow), but that’s not quite true. These acknowledge the four general shapes of a bow, but not the subtypes. For example, Mongolian bows are recurves, but tend to be shorter than Western recurves because Mongolian recurves are meant to be shot on horseback.

SHOOTING QUALITY

So, what is it like shooting a good bow?

Again, I’m speaking from experience with recurves, longbows, and reflexes.

A good bow has good speed. It moves the arrow faster than slower. This is a relative scale because recurves shoot arrows faster than longbows, and reflex/deflex tend to shoot faster than longbows but slower than recurves.

WEIGHT

Is it possible for people to have pulled 100 pounds of weight in a bow back in the olden days, or are people just confused?

Yes, it’s possible.

My dad, who used to do archery once or twice a week, had a 100 pound bow that he shot fairly regularly. That was before his shoulder injuries and, y’know, age.

Also note that he’s practically a Viking.

I pulled 50 pounds at 28 inches when I was doing it regularly, although now I probably have to go back to 45 pounds.

BASIC SHOOTING FORM

This is going to be heavily effected by your character’s culture, bow, and upbringing.

There’s the English, upright stance for shooting a longbow. The archer stands very straight, and their pull hand goes to anywhere between the lip and the ear.

There’s the forest stance, which is my own, and that’s slightly bent over to avoid string-slaps, finger to cheekbone. Also, I made up the forest stance, so don’t Google it.

Then there’s Walt Wilhem, who, due to physical disability, had to shoot from the hip and was still one of the best archers in the world. Watch the video of him and his brother:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np8u69YfSA8

THE ROBIN HOOD SHOT

This is actually very attainable. I’ve done it six times. My dad has done it about 30 times. I have a friend who did it about 25 times.

In order for this situation to realistically happen (if you’re writing something unrealistic, you really shouldn’t bother reading all of this), the character needs to prep a few things.

1. Years of experience. At least six, and that’s assuming your archer shoots at least seven hours a week, without missing an hour.

2. At six years the archer might get a few Robin Hood shots. Very likely, it’ll be at a shorter distance and the arrow they’re shooting will be cross-wise instead of straight down the shaft.

3. At ten years, it’s quite likely your Robin Hood has shot straight down the shaft a few times.

4. Your Robin Hood must seek to improve every week.

SOME QUICK TIPS

unless you’re Walt Wilhem, you always pull from your back, not your arm

you never fire an arrow

back quivers are quieter and more mobile than hip quivers (suck it hipsters)

it takes practice and long fingers, but it’s quite doable to hold both a bow and an arrow in one hand while shooting

there is a system for very fast nocking

beginners have no clue what this system is and so take several minutes to nock their arrow.

contrast, it takes a second for an experienced archer.

someone who doesn’t take long to aim is often called a snap shooter, and this isn’t exactly complimentary.

This ought to take you far in your journey of writing an archer. I’ve been sitting on this post for about a year now, but still need to add to it. PLEASE google the following in case I don’t get to sharing the info.

arrow breakage

bow breaking

materials for arrows

types of wood for bows

types of wood for arrows

arrow spine weight

bow tuning

bow shelfs

different forms

holding a bow

stringing a bow

bow at rest

temperatures + bows

fletching types

aerodynamics

quivers

moving around

how to find the goddamn arrows

#archery #writeblr #writing #archers #bow and arrow #wip #writing tip #writing advice #don't tell anyone it's been 2 years since I've shot my lovely bear bow #I need my bow again #I need to shoot

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gordonthesquid · 3 years

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Thanksgiving

Luckily fish are not on the menu for Thanksgiving because Dis FIsh is on break! WOooooooOoHoooo!

Virgil challenged me this year to stop making Thanksgiving jokes at the dining table, but I told him I couldn’t quit cold turkey. *laughs at own joke* So I figured I’d start here.

Why wasn’t the turkey hungry for Thanksgiving? Think about it a moment and we’ll come back to that.

I’m not getting near Grandma and turkey with a 10 foot pole. The reality is we haven’t had a bird for ten years or so between losing Mom. losing Dad, my accident, starting the rescue biz. Thanksgiving Dinner takes time, and I suppose things have just been too hectic around here. We Tracy’s don’t slow down often. Not all together

I wonder if anyone has made plans this year. Sometimes Scott will fly out and grab a farmhouse worth of fried chicken. It’s terrible and greasy, but it’s quick and portable (and actually still soooo much yummier than Grandma’s food.) I’m not really even sure anyone remembers tomorrow is Thanksgiving. In the states it’ll be Fall but feel like the crisp air of Winter. But between the change of hemisphere, the time zones... It’s easy to slip by. Couple that with rescues, and we can lose track of time quickly.

I wonder if John can come down. We haven’t had a family meal in ages.

One thing we used to do during the meal is we’d go around the table and share one thing we were thankful for before digging in to the food.

*Smiles wistfully* Scott would always get so aggravated at me for my answers. There was one year I answered “Swimming,” and, after seeing how annoyed he got, I continued to repeat that answer into my teens just because it bothered him so much.

I really am thankful for swimming, you know. It’s more than just the word. Virgil probably could help me with this. He’s really awesome at finding the right words for expressing what you’re feeling. And I think he always knew that when I said swimming, I meant, like, the spray of the ocean against my face and the tang of salt water, the smell of chlorine, and the thrill of the race. It’s always been a part of me and I don’t think I’d be Gordon Tracy without it.

I’m grateful for my doctors and the scientists that saw opportunity where it would’ve been easy to say there was none.

I’m grateful for Four, my little yellow ship that dives instead of flies, and the little pieces of love built into her -Scott for suggesting making her yellow since it’s my favorite color. And Virgil, who designed her seat to be ergonomic for a chronically pained spinal column. And Alan who saw a game we played once and came up with the idea for her arms. John for downloading my favorite podcasts and holoprograms for long rescues because he knows my mind wanders. Kayo for helping me install a basketball net for the trash bin (it was out of love, I swear), and Brains for building her, loving her as I do, and rebuilding her. And that’s just Four.

I have the best family, and I am grateful for them. For Scott’s blind protectiveness, and Virgil’s art, and John’s knowledge, and Alan’s passion.

Even Grandma’s Cooking. It’s specific things, you know. Not everything she makes. Still not trusting her with turkey.

I’m grateful for the sea, and the sun, and that our planet is healing.

For those moments when we turn fear into smiles. I’m grateful that we get to do what we do.

I’m grateful I’m still here.

*coughs, and rubs eyes*

It’s because it’s stuffed, by the way. The reason the turkey wasn’t hungry for Thanksgiving. It was because it was stuffed.

#gordonthesquid #thanksgiving musings

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the-widow-sisters · 3 years

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Deserving

Summary: Natasha wakes up from a nightmare, and all she can think about is how she has to see her sister and make sure that she is okay. Fortunately, the girl is just over in the next room, and Natasha goes to take a look. But when one creaky floorboard sounds off, Natasha's quiet plan is foiled, and Yelena awakens. Yelena is determined to get to the bottom of her sister's actions.

Word Count: 2196

Natasha awoke with a jerk, sitting up straight in bed with sweat dripping down her. She was breathing hard, and all she could think of was the past and all of the things that had happened. She looked around her, trying to ground herself and keep in mind where she was now and how she was far from all of it.

She shivered a bit, finding herself quite cold. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to get rid of the memories flashing before her very eyes.

She suddenly heard a small snore from the other room, and her eyes snapped open as her gaze shifted quickly to the wall where the noise had originated. It was then that she painfully remembered more of the dream. She grabbed onto the blankets as the flash of the death of her sister went through her.

It knocked the breath from her, and even thought she could hear Yelena just in the other room, making an occasional snore she could not get any comfort. She had to see for herself and have concrete proof that her sister was alive and well.

Almost autonomously, she got up from the bed and started heading to the door of her room. She reached out to the doorknob, and stopped, wondering if she should actually check on her sister.

However, she quickly convinced herself it would be alright. After all, she was not going to awaken the other girl. She was as quiet as could be and Yelena would never know she was in there despite her heightened senses.

Natasha quietly entered the hall and opened Yelena’s door nearby her own. She slid in, leaving the door itself ajar so she could escape quietly without any additional noise disrupting the atmosphere.

To her pure relief, Yelena was lying there on the bed, her eyes closed and her shiny blonde hair sprawled out over the pillow as drool dripped just barely from her opened mouth. It was quite an adorable scene, and Natasha might would have chuckled a bit if it were not for her overwhelming emotions from her nightmare overcoming her.

Natasha hesitantly stepped closer to the figure on the bed, her eyes caressing the contours of the younger girl’s face. She was so peaceful in sleep, and her chest rose and fell in a wonderful, hypnotic manner that brought such happiness and calm to Natasha because it signified that Yelena was alive, well, and content.

She stepped a bit closer to the bed, almost wanting to touch the girl but knowing it would wake her up. However, as she made her next move, she just so happened to step on the infamous floorboard. It was the one floorboard in Yelena’s room that creaked, and when she stepped, it had very loudly made its favorite noise.

As soon as it made the sound, Yelena jumped from her peaceful position, tensed all over, and her eyes wide awake as her gaze shifted distrustfully and dangerously in the direction that the noise had come from. Her hand was already reaching out to her nightstand where a gun was well-placed.

Natasha froze in the moonlight illuminating the room, and they stared at each other for a long moment.

Finally, Yelena furrowed her brow, confusion in her eyes as she just gaped at the redhead.

“What are you doing?” Yelena questioned, completely disoriented and her voice deeper from her state of sleep just moments before, and her eyes a little wide as she gaped at Natasha. As the tension dispelled with Yelena’s words, all Natasha could do was look down with shame, not wanting to meet the younger woman’s eyes. It was not exactly easy for her to admit that she had been watching the other girl sleep just for reassurance that she was actually alive.

Natasha was quiet for a moment, and Yelena studied her carefully. Natasha could feel her eyes boring holes in her and trying to catch her own gaze. Natasha swallowed after a moment, forcing a small glance in the general direction of Yelena’s deep greens.

“Nothing… Just checking on you,” Natasha finally settled for answering, forcing a more casual tone to her voice than was actually within her. Yelena just watched her strangely for a moment, and Natasha offered a tight smile before starting to head out the door.

“Goodnight—”

“Hey, wait,” Yelena spoke, and Natasha hesitantly paused, looking behind her worriedly. Her stomach was in a knot. She knew Yelena had noticed something was not right, and it made Natasha feel exceedingly uncomfortable and wary of the whole situation.

She was supposed to be the older sister and the voice of comfort, reason, and protection. Natasha owed all of those things and more to Yelena, and the blonde should never have to play that role for her. Natasha did not deserve it after leaving Yelena behind like she had.

“Stay?” Yelena suggested, her gaze shifting to the empty side of the bed in a gesture of invitation. Natasha really wanted to, but she so hated to intrude and to inconvenience the girl all for her own selfish problems.

“Are you sure?” Natasha asked, and Yelena nodded quickly.

“What better way to stay warm? It gets cold in here with just me, myself, and I,” Yelena informed her with a slightly mischievous look in her eyes but nevertheless, concern and care ringing in the undertones.

“Seriously… You should see my skin right now. I’ve got the turkey bumps,” Yelena told her, and Natasha just looked at her oddly.

“Goosebumps,” Natasha absently corrected her, still considering the younger girl’s offer.

“Turkey, goose, same difference,” Yelena shrugged, trying to be funny as she smirked a bit. Natasha just gazed at Yelena for a painfully long moment from her place in the doorway. She could see the pleading in her Yelena’s eyes.

After several beats, she finally headed over to her little sister.

Yelena pulled the blankets back, letting Natasha hesitantly slip in bed with her. Natasha just laid there, Yelena casting the blankets over her and resting her body next to her as she just looked her older sister in the face.

“Do you want to talk?” Yelena offered after a long silence, and Natasha almost shyly brought her gaze up to meet Yelena’s eyes. She quickly averted her greens and looked away from the younger woman.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered.

“I think you’re full of it,” Yelena shot back just as soon as Natasha had finished her sentence. Natasha sighed deeply, not saying anything as she just dejectedly looked down. She did not want her sister to have to bear any burdens, and she definitely did not want the girl to bear Natasha’s own burdens.

Before Natasha knew what was happening, Yelena slid nearer to the older woman, pushing her head underneath Natasha’s chin, and snuggling close, her nose buried in Natasha’s neck. Natasha hesitantly brought her arms around the younger girl, feeling her heart ache and her lips quiver a little. She quickly pulled them tightly together in an attempt to keep from exposing even the slightest of signs of her pain.

It was just so nice to physically feel her sister in her arms. Especially after having such a terrifying dream and so clearly seeing the girl die before her very eyes. Natasha’s arms tightened around Yelena incrementally, her grip growing protective as the flashes began to return to the forefront of her mind.

“I am here, Natashka,” Yelena muttered, love evident in her every word. It was more than Natasha could take, and the tears started to hotly pool in Natasha’s eyes. She did not deserve this from her sister. She did not deserve for Yelena to comfort her.

After a moment, she started to shiver a bit, the emotion purely overcoming her and the sweat from earlier still permeating her clothing a bit. Yelena seemed to notice her feelings, and she moved even closer to her older sister, tangling her legs with Natasha’s. Natasha sniffed a bit, and to most, it would have sounded like a stopped-up nose, but Natasha knew that Yelena knew exactly what it was.

“I’m here,” Yelena murmured, moving her hands up Natasha’s back. Natasha silently cried, her tears soaking the pillow that her head was resting on. After several long moments of this, Natasha found just enough strength to speak and admit what she had so desperately wanted to avoid. Of course, at this point, she knew it was much too late to try to avoid it.

“You died,” Natasha admitted, her voice hoarse, and Yelena paused in her soothing rubs and stroking of Natasha’s back, and Natasha knew she was putting her full attentions on listening to Natasha’s words.

“I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t,” Natasha was choked up a little at that point, and so she resolved to be completely silent for a long moment in an attempt to recollect her composure.

“You have saved me. I’m here today because of you. You saved me,” Yelena assured, and Natasha shook her head.

“I couldn’t save you.”

“It was a dream, it’s okay,” Yelena tried to continue in her confidence, but Natasha’s lips tightened and she shook her head.

“I can never save you… In a dream or in real life,” Natasha heartbrokenly admitted, and her voice cracked against her best efforts to maintain strength.

“Don’t say that. You’ve saved me many times,” Yelena spoke quietly, her voice ringing with level-headedness and that blind love and certainty that she always held within her when she spoke about Natasha. Natasha shook her head insistently.

“I didn’t save you when it counted,” Natasha told her firmly, wholehearted guilt wracking her tone, and Yelena quieted. Both of them shared a silence as they laid there together.

“And here I am taking advantage of you and your comfort and your forgiveness, and ya ne zasluzhivayu nichego iz etogo,” Natasha muttered, switching to Russian as she admitted the tender words. They hurt so much but they were the truth. She honestly would not even blame Yelena if she pushed her away at this point. That was the one thing that Natasha did deserve.

However, to her complete and utter shock, Yelena just held her even tighter than she had just a few minutes ago, her arms wrapping around Natasha firmly and her face squishing steadily against Natasha’s neck as she inhaled deeply. After a moment of this, she pulled away to raise up and press her forehead to Natasha’s as their green eyes met.

“Listen carefully, because I will only say this once,” Yelena spoke and despite the intense warm and love in her voice, there was a definitive warning. Natasha froze a bit, her senses heightened as she anxiously both dreaded and anticipated the words Yelena would utter.

“You have saved me. You didn’t refuse to come for me. You just didn’t know that I needed you. And most importantly, you deserve everything. You are my sister. Mine. And I’m the only one who says what you deserve or not,” Yelena stubbornly spoke with fierceness and determination in every word, her eyes just as hardened and full of meaning as the things she just said. Natasha looked away from her sister before returning her pained gaze to her.

“How can you say that? I know you had to have been so mad—”

“I was. But you’re here now, and none of it matters. I’m not mad anymore,” Yelena informed her, the words full of a sincerity and earnestness that Yelena always had when she admitted feelings to Natasha. Her eyes were practically glowing with

“Chto ya sdelal, chtoby vernut' tebya v svoyu zhizn'?” Natasha questioned under her breath, the words gentle, tender, and full of love as she incredulously took in the pure magnitude of Yelena’s seemingly endless love for her.

“You’ll always have me, sestra,” Yelena told her quietly, and Natasha sniffed again, starting to pull away from her sister to try to regain composure so she was not blatantly crying under the girl’s gaze.

However, before she could do this, Yelena just held her tightly with one arm and brought up the other so she could wipe away her big sister’s tears gently. Natasha just looked at her, unashamed adoration radiating through her at the younger one’s attentions. When she was through, Natasha moved her hands up to cup Yelena’s face and kiss her face just between her eyebrows where her nose started to slope down her face.

Natasha quickly noticed the huge smile on Yelena’s face that she quickly tried to hide as she ducked her head underneath Natasha’s neck.

“I saw the smile. Don’t even try to hide it,” Natasha informed her, trying to pull together some semblance of her usual fond teasing that they shared.

“Bah… You didn’t see anything, poser,” Yelena told her, but the nickname was not even filled with the typical mischief as usual. It was only full of the most tender and loving emotion. Natasha smiled in spite of herself, closing her eyes in contentment.

And with every breath that Yelena exhaled against her skin that night, she could felt her heart coming back together and healing.

A/N: “Ya ne zasluzhivayu nichego iz etogo” means “I don’t deserve any of it,” and “Chto ya sdelal, chtoby vernut' tebya v svoyu zhizn'” means “What did I do to get you back in my life?”

#widow sisters #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #black widow #marvel #fanfic #fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #black widow fanfic #black widow fic #black widow 2021 #sisters #platonic #friendship #family #angst

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed - Episode 02

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

(Masterpost ) (Previous Episode) (Next Episode)

Donkey Riding

way ho and away we go, donkey riding donkey riding way ho and away we go, riding on a donkey

Wei Wuxian and Apple are doing their best for the Ministry of Culture and Tourism.

Xiao Zhan had trouble riding the donkey sitting side-saddle, so the Department of Questionable Practical Effects made him a fake leg to wear while riding regular style.

Can you spot it? It’s very hard to spot. It is very convincing.

Simple Pleasures

Wei Wuxian takes his time wandering up the nearest mountain, and half of the cultivators in the land also wander up this mountain because...Night Hunting! The cultivators are hot and thirsty from walking because they forgot that they all know how to fly.

Wei Wuxian relaxes by a well and listens to people stanning him.

Also

I’m going to say it: Wei Wuxian never met a drinking vessel he couldn’t blow.

Everything is Beautiful at the Ballet

The actress who plays A-Yan is named Zhang Linran. She probably has studied dance since she was 4 and now she gets her big break which turns out to be feeding an apple to a donkey. So let’s pause for a second to look at how beautifully she moves.

Reunions are Awkward, Part 1

Wei Wuxian meets up with one of his family members and it goes super well.

I...like Jin Ling? He’s much less of a douchebag than his dad, his uncles Jin, Jiang, and Mo (the three stooges), and every damn one of his Jin cousins. He’s genuinely brave (his Dad’s primary good quality) and his hair is on fleek. He’s still a whiny diaper baby, but I like him.

(much more after the cut!)

Then Jiang Cheng shows up, looking fine as hell and radiating peak arrogant-prick energy.

When he discovers that ‘Mo Xuanyu” stuck a piece of paper to Jin Ling, he tells the child to literally murder him. Excellent uncleing! A+++++ would recommend.

“In fact, literally murder anyone who uses Yiling Laozu’s tools, like talismans, lure flags, or spirit compasses - basically murder everyone in the Lan Clan plus those other fanboys we saw coming up the hill. Then get out there and make some friends, goddamn it!”

These nets full of cultivators on this daytime night hunt are the only time we ever see anything in a net during a night hunt. In fact dudes constantly go night hunting and the only prey we ever see is rock lady, murder turtle, and a couple of rag mops in the lake.

You Are Not Qualified to Speak to Me

Also radiating arrogant-prick energy on this occasion is Lan Wangji. He has been using pettiness as a weapon since long before he met this Jiang Cheng turkey, and he *brings it* when Jiang Cheng tries to have a conversation with him.

Letting your eyes wander everywhere except to his punchable face while you ignore his passive-aggressive questions? Quality work.

Dropping a silence spell on his child and then letting your own child explain it to him? Golden.

Lan Wangji is never ever going to forgive Jiang Cheng for what he did on cliff day, and his silence here is as pointed as an ice pick. I suspect the last words Lan Wangji actually spoke to him were “Jiang Wanyin, stop it,” sixteen years ago.

Jiang Cheng is actually the bigger person in this particular interaction, visibly mastering his temper and telling Jin Ling to take his medicine.

Reflecting

Wei Wuxian hangs out by a beautiful river and hallucinates for a while. River Jiang Yanli is nurturing and River Jiang Cheng is pissed off, so there are no surprises there. River Jiang Cheng thinks that Wei Wuxian is a promise-breaking douchebag. He’s not exactly wrong.

Courtesy of convenient gossiping cultivators, Wei Wuxian discovers that the 16 year old arrogant kid from the Jin clan who his brother from the Jiang clan has custody of is actually and quite obviously Jin Rulan.

Well fuck I guess now I care about something, that’s inconvenient.

Needing to help parent the child of the sister who parented him is what draws Wei Wuxian fully into his new life.

As soon as he has this realization, Apple comes back from roaming around, and never gives him any trouble after this for the rest of the story. Which...probably doesn’t mean anything.

Wen Gravesite

Does Wen Ning hang out here because it’s where he and his (dead) people came from? Oh great, now I am sad.

Judging by all the leaves on this grave thingy I’m going to say that this grave tender dude is, ah, not very good at his job.

Get him, Jingyi!

I feel like maybe we all focus too much on how Lan Jingyi is so hilarious and sardonic and not enough on how he is a such a biscuit.

Soul Grass

As mentioned in the previous post, Chinese spiritual concepts don’t always translate well into English. Soul grass? Sure, why not.

This is where Wei Wuxian’s Sherlock Holmes brain starts to work, although he still doesn’t remember really basic stuff about Dafan Mountain. Dying and changing bodies is rough on the old neurochemistry. This creates more opportunities for flashbacks, however, and if there’s one thing The Untamed deffo needs more of, it’s kissing flashbacks.

Temple Statue

Presumably grave-tender dude is also in charge of clearing away spiderwebs at the temple, because it’s not getting done.

Jin Ling walks into the temple blaspheming at full volume.

Since this isn’t a Greek story, he isn’t immediately struck blind for this. Then when he wishes for the statue to come alive, it obligingly does. Everything’s coming up Rulan!

Wei Wuxian shows up to rescue all the kids by throwing talismans at the monster which does not tip anyone off to who he is.

Baby Cultivator Babysitting

Lan Wangji chills out in the cultivators’ pavilion with Jiang Cheng and their mutual hate boners.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian forgets all about his nephew and turns into cool professor guy, explaining the basics of soul-eating to the baby cultivators and gleefully encouraging their fear of Hanguang-Jun’s punishments.

Because the Lan babies are good filial children they are super respectful and engaged with this random adult who is lecturing them. They also - like their own Hanguang-Jun at their age - see and admire Wei Wuxian’s intellect. It’s easy to forget how extremely smart Wei Wuxian is, because of how extremely dumb Wei Wuxian is.

Lan Jingyi suddenly figures out Wei Wuxian is not crazy.

Bis. Kit.

Then Rock Lady shows up and Jin Ling sticks 6 arrows into her while Lans Jingyi and Sizhui stand around not bothering to draw their swords.

I see a lot of comments about the bad effects in the statue sequences but I think Rock Lady is all right. The figure animation is decent and the lighting is no worse on her than on everything else in the scene. Her hair is nice, for a rock person.

Admittedly I just finished watching Guardian which has CGI monsters so bad they may have injured my retinas and possibly also my DNA, so the bar, for me, is pretty low. Rock lady clears it with room to spare.

Note: Wei Wuxian’s flute playing does zippity towards controlling the statue. Not sure what his plan was here.

Wen Ning Kicks Ass

Now we get to meet Wen Ning, who appears to be a stone-cold badass. Later we will discover how hilariously inaccurate that assessment is.

While all versions of Wen Ning are delightful, this version of Wen Ning is also...strangely attractive? He’s got a Patti-Smith-Horses-Era vibe here, instead of his more usual lost-baby-dork vibe. And his dreamy “I have nails in my head” expression is intriguing.

I mean, he’s not a total snack like zombie Song Lan or pre-zombie Song Lan or blind Song Lan or post-zombie Song Lan, but this look is a good one for Wen Ning, is what I’m saying.

Reunions are Awkward, Part 2

Lan Wangji, who has 99% already recognized Wei Wuxian because of the haunted sword and the fierce jawline and beautiful neck and tiny tiny waist, is summoned by his flute playing as inexorably as the Ghost General was.

Jiang Cheng also recognizes Wei Wuxian and goes into full beatdown mode, thwarted (silently) by Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian attempts to preserve his incognito by sassing Jiang Cheng in as sibling-like a manner as possible.

Hanguang-Jun’s Pro-Ghost Agenda Has Been Clear for Some Time

This Jiang/Lan fight is hilarious when you consider the implications.

Macroexpression vs. Microexpression

Mo Xuanyu brought Wei Wuxian back using sacrifice summons, a dark ritual invented by Wei Wuxian that he, most likely, did NOT show to Lan Wangji back in the day. So it’s a pretty safe bet that Lan Wangji doesn’t know that Wei Wuxian was gifted a body, rather than stealing one.

when your brother turns around, you must whip him you will never live it down unless you whip him

When Jiang Cheng lets loose with Zidian, it’s not just because he’s angry. He’s using purple power to force Wei Wuxian’s ghost out of the body he’s apparently possessed. And Lan Wangji instantly STOPS him from doing that.

Clan Leader Jiang: this person has been possessed, against their will, by an evil ghost

Future Chief Cultivator Lan: Counterpoint: I am banging the ghost

Flashback Time

Welcome to your 30-episode flashback!

Once I used to join in Every boy and girl was my friend Now there's revolution, but they don't know What they're fighting

Let us close our eyes Outside their lives go on much faster Oh, we won't give in We'll keep living in the past

Road Tripping to Summer School

Gosh I’m looking forward to younger, kinder, more relatable Jiang Cheng.

...prick.

Incidentally, until now this episode didn’t know that Jiang Cheng has smile muscles, and neither did the person who glued his wig on for him.

I Like Rabbits

Here we have our first rabbit in a large collection of rabbit iconography that appears in The Untamed.

Instead of sending everyone to the Wikipedia page for Tu'er Shen I’m going to take this opportunity to rec the short film Kiss of the Rabbit God by Andrew Thomas Huang (tw: blood, tw:body-mod cutting) which you can read about and watch over at Nowness.com

Particularly if you are a queer person of Chinese heritage, check it out.

So. What the fuck are these? Are they food?

Are they made from wax? Or corn starch? or pig intestines?

Wei Wuxian runs off to get laid drunk and Jiang Cheng grumps about it. Jiang Yanli reminds him that being free is a Jiang Clan Rule, so really Wei Wuxian is following the rules by not following the rules. Does that mean he’s not free? My head hurts.

Jiang Cheng: yes but grump grump grump

Jiang Yanli: Nothing bad will ever happen because of A-Xian’s choices, trust me

Outro

Wei Wuxian faint tally: one Caught by: the cold hard ground

Soundtrack: 1. Donkey Riding by Great Big Sea 2. Living in the Past by Jethro Tull 3. Whip It by Devo

Fic prompt: Lan Wangji’s internal monologue while he sits in the pavilion with Jiang Cheng

If you write a fic from this prompt and want to share, please post a link in comments!

Bonus: Wang Zuocheng, macro-expression king

Episode 03 Restless Rewatch coming soon!

#the untamed #fytheuntamed #the untamed spoilers #the untamed gifs #the untamed stills #my gifs #my stills #restless rewatch #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #lan jingyi #c-drama #bl drama #the untamed memes

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 4 years

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Day 5: Holy - Llewyn Davis

Pairing: Llewyn Davis x F!Reader

Rating: 18 + for language

November Writing Challenge

Day 4: Tweeted: Benny Miller

December 24th, Christmas Eve, 1962

Christmas, the best time of the year. Your small studio apartment is decorated on every surface. Fresh garland draped around the window, a wreath with a large red bow on the back of the door, a small Christmas tree with twinkle lights and few bulbs of red and green. The room is as festive as you can make it on a small budget. It was a small luxury to buy the fresh decorations instead of the synthetic but to you it’s what makes it worth it. You go around lighting small candles, and the warm smells of vanilla fill the room. You take in a deep breath and smile at the glow from the lights.

You move to the small coat closet and pull out the two packages wrapped in old newspaper, wrapped with a large silver bow and you smile at the name on the tag before placing them under the tree. You move to the window and look at the picturesque scene outside. The blanket of snow on the ground was made almost brighter by the colorful lights bouncing off it. You turn over to your small heater and turn it on. Making sure the room is as warm as you can afford. This was a special Christmas this year.

Last week your sometimes “roommate” Llewyn Davis was making his usual rotations of couches when he came to you. During the visit you asked about his holiday plans knowing he usually spent it with his sister and her family. He got very quiet before telling you he and her had a small falling out and he honestly didn’t know where he was going to end up. You immediately offered your small home to him and after some deliberation he agreed. He was hesitant, worried about ruining your holiday with your family but when you told him you would be alone he agreed.

As you watched the snow blow thicker outside the window you began to wonder if maybe he got a better offer or made up with his sister and was now spending the holiday with her. Your thoughts began to grow sad before you realized the buzzer was ringing loudly in the small space. You ran to the door before pressing the button for the speaker.

“Hello?”

“It’s Llewyn,” can the slightly shaky reply.

You press the buzzer and walk back to your couch grabbing a blanket before putting the kettle on the stove to boil water. A few minutes later knocking draws your attention. You walk over to the door and pull it open gesturing for him to come inside. Wearing a threadbare coat, shoes leaking water on the floor, and shivering you begin grabbing his things from his hands. He opens his mouth to protest before you silence him with a look. He lets out a sigh lifting his arms to help you take off his coat, wrapping the warm blanket around his shoulders, you push him towards the couch.

Dropping to your knees you remove his shoes, and socks. Reaching for the slippers on the coffee table before sliding his feet into the furry shoes.

“When did you get those?” he asks, pointing to the shoes.

“I just had them around,” you gesture with your hand vaguely.

“Y- you just so happen to have a pair of men’s slippers in my size sitting around your apartment,” he asks, the shiver not quite gone.

You choose not to answer, rising from the ground back to the small kitchen pulling down a cup and putting a scoop of instant coffee inside before topping it off with the boiling water. You bring the cup over to him and you swear you can see the steam rise as his frozen hands envelope the cup.

“Where were you? I was expecting you here a few hours ago. I was beginning to think you forgot about me…” you ask.

“No...no I didn’t forget I had to go over to Jim and Jeans and get my stuff. Although I almost didn’t come I know how much of a downer I can be and I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas.”

You take a moment before answering, “I’m glad you didn't. I can’t tell you how much I have been looking forward to spending Christmas with you Llewyn. It’s all I have been able to think about.”

You look away from him afraid that you had said too much, you feel his hands slightly warmer from the cup take your own and you raise your eyes to meet his. “I’m glad I came too, I...I’ve been looking forward to this. It’s so easy to be with you, you don’t expect me to be a performing monkey like the Gorfeins or make me feel like a piece of shit like Jean. You just let me be myself and I love that about you.”

You smile brightly at him before you're interrupted by the sound of the timer going off in the kitchen. You hop up and slide on your oven mitts pulling out several dishes all at once. Fluffy mashed potatoes, roasted green beans, a small honey ham, and a cherry pie. Llewyn slowly rises from the couch walking over to you.

“I know that it’s not prime rib or a big fancy turkey but I wanted to do something special for us, plus we’ll have plenty to eat for the next few days, I’m sorry it’s not more I ju-” your rambling is cut off by Llewyn who wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace.

You let out a large sigh before you wrap your arms around his neck. He still feels cold beneath your hands. You pull back, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“Your skin feels like ice Llewyn, why don’t you take a hot shower, I’ll leave a change of clothes for you in the bathroom and make us each a plate. Does that sound ok?”

“Ok… but I don’t actually have anything else to change into, I haven’t been to the laundry mat in a few days. This is the last clean thing I have I wa-”

“I will leave you something clean in the bathroom for after your shower,” you cut him off before he can finish.

He gives you that look again, “you just happen to have clothes my size sitting around-”

“Just go take a goddamn shower Llewyn,” you roll your eyes at him.

He looks surprised at your outburst but doesn’t argue with you further. His hands slowly leave your waist before he turns towards the small bathroom. When the door shuts behind him you go to your dresser and pull out some boxers, dark blue sweatpants, thick wool socks, and a short sleeve white t-shirt. You hear the water turn on and the gentle sounds of Llewyn humming under the water before you slightly open the door putting the clothes on the toilet seat before closing it again.

You know he’s probably going to say something about the clothes, but you could care less. You cared about Llewyn and that included getting him some clean clothes, a pair of slippers, necessities. To your immense surprise he says nothing, only comes behind you and hugs you from behind tightly, a quiet whisper of thanks against your ear before he’s pulling back and helping you put the plates on the coffee table, pouring each of you a glass of red wine.

You clink glasses and dig in. You both have seconds and with your encouragement Llewyn has thirds, you’ve polished off a bottle and a half of wine and you’re both warm and comfortable under a blanket, your feet in his lap.

“Llewyn,” you purr, “will you play for me?”

Llewyn reaches towards his case and pulls out his guitar. You go to move your feet but he pulls them back and places one hand on your ankle keeping you in place. Balancing the guitar on your legs gently, “what do you want me to play? Something happy? Sad? Festive?”

“Festive, it is Christmas after all.” He strums the guitar and you fall a little bit deeper in love with him. The way he plays is like he’s making love to the room with his music, and god when he sings....

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining

It is the night of our dear Savior's birth

Long lay the world, in sin and error pining

'Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn

Fall on your knees

O hear the angels' voices

O night divine

O night when Christ was born

O night divine

O night

O night divine

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn

Fall on your knees

O hear the angels' voices

O night divine

O night when Christ was born

O night divine

O night…

You can’t help the tears that slowly make their way down your cheeks and when Llewyn looks up from his guitar he frowns before putting the guitar down. His hands are warm and calloused as they wipe the tears from your cheeks and when he speaks it’s no louder than a whisper.

“Why are you crying?”

“It’s just...you're so incredibly talented and it breaks my heart that everyone doesn’t get to see that,” you tell him.

His smile is small and gentle before he pulls you closer to him so you’re sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist, your head in the crook of his neck, his own resting against yours. You're so warm and comfortable and when Llewyn starts to sing quietly your eyes grow heavy and you drift off to sleep.

December 25th, Christmas Day, 1962

The next morning you wake up and feel slightly disoriented not knowing exactly where you are. A strong arm is wrapped around your waist and a warm body is pressed against your back, a blanket draped over the both of you. You're on the couch and you turn as slowly as possible to look at the body behind you. His curls droop slightly over his forehead and all the creases in his forehead are smooth, he looks truly at peace and your heart beats a little faster when you look at his lips soft and slightly open as he breathes. You don’t move afraid to break the spell, his grip on your waist tightens before his eyes slowly open.

You both say nothing, but his lips pull up into a small smile which you quickly return. Your not sure what to call this thing between you, friendship, or something more. But, you know there is no one else you want to wake up too.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper.

“Merry Christmas honey,” his words are slightly slurred with sleep.

“I’m going to get up and get us some coffee then we can open presents,” you don’t miss the slight droop of Llewyn's mouth.

“You told me last week we weren’t doing presents, I don’t have anything for you.”

“Are you here?” you ask.

He gives you that look again, “yes,” he says.

“Then I got what I wanted for Christmas this year,” you pull away and he reluctantly lets you go, letting out a small sigh. You know how much it bothers him that you buy him things, but at this point you really don’t care anymore.

You boil the water for the coffee, preparing two cups. Llewyn cracks your window taking a long drag from his cigarette. The kettle whistles and you pour the water bringing them over to the table. Llewyn blows the last of the smoke out the window before coming back to the couch. You go over to the tree and grab the two packages. One small box and a medium sized package.

“Two? Honey, I know what you said but I-”

“Just open it Llewyn,” you hand him the medium sized box first.

He tears the paper gently and when he opens the box his mouth drops open looking at the new brown boots, and wool socks. His eyes tear up, but before he can protest you are handing him the small box. He puts the boots aside, and carefully unwraps the box before pulling back the paper, and when he lifts the lid his breath stops.

Inside a gentle pillow of tissue paper is a single key. “Now I know what you are thinking, but hear me out. I didn’t give you this key out of pity or anything. I am giving you this key to my apartment because I want you to live here Llewyn. I want you to play at the Gaslight, gigs, and chase the dream I don’t want you to ever stop. But I also want you warm, fed, and safe. I want our days to be spent with music, laughter, and….” you trail off leaving it open.

“What honey?” he begs quietly, “music, laughter, and what?”

“Fuck…” you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry, “fuck it….I love you Llewyn. I want you to make music, and I want to support your dream and I want you to do it here where I can keep you safe and love you. I know you think that you have nothing to give me but I....I just want you.”

Llewyn doesn’t respond for several minutes and your heart feels like it’s about to stop. “Do you mean it?” he asks quietly.

You can only nod.

He scoots off the couch and over to you still sitting in front of the tree. On his knees he places his head in your lap and his hands sit on your waist. You don’t move for a moment before your hands run through his curls. He slowly raises his head looking at you, his eyes glassy.

“Fuck...you are the most incredible woman I have ever known in my entire life. I thought for so long that I was destined to fail in everything, my music, my life, my relationships. But then one night when I was at my lowest bleeding in a fucking alley this angel appeared. You took me home, cleaned me up, and I have spent the last year falling deeper and deeper in love with you. So if you are serious and you will have me, then yes I will move in with you and I will spend however long you have me...proving to you how much I love you, how much I adore you, and how fucking grateful I am to have you in my life.”

You release a sob and pull him by his shirt and when he kisses you can only describe the feeling in one word, home.

Day 6: Carpet - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

#November writing challenge #day 5 #inside llewyn davis #Oscar Isaac #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis

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gillian-greenwood · 3 years

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My Episode 7 Predictions!

Mother of God! How have these weeks passed by so fast?! I've decided to share what I think will be answered tomorrow night and some of the fates of our beloved characters! The series has gotten off to an even bigger success than it's predecessor and EVERYONE'S talking about it! Without further ado, let's see what I'm predicting!

Who's H/fourth man (or woman) and will we find out?

The question that's on the nation's minds. That has been boggling us since 2017... My personal prediction still stands as CC Philip Osborne, however... I think he's purely sitting on his arse and pulling the strings, whilst others are doing his dirty work. Those people are Patricia Carmichael: who in all honesty I'm manifesting isn't actually bent but is so career driven and a bit of a lick arse that she's just taking orders and not questioning anything, plus she doesn't think much of Ted either... I have joked that she's been shagging Osborne on the side which would be quite funny. I also believe Buckells has been Osborne's true scape goat for years. Someone as laid-back and unpassionate as Buckells is easily manipulated - I mean how the hell has he become a super? As Steve rightfully says, he couldn't order a piss up in a brewery. Seeing the connections go well back into the early noughties whilst Buckells was part of an oasis tribute band, it's an easy conclusion to make. Lastly I will mention Thurwell, now I think Thurwell may have been more involved on his own doing anyway but I think he'd still been pretty busy doing things on behalf of Osborne up until his alleged death in sunny Spain (Belfast but shh). I know a lot of people still think Buckells, some reckon pas-agg Pat is the top woman... and a few still think our beloved Kate is 'H'.

Now the other part of my point is actually finding out... I think us as viewers will certainly know the identity of this mysterious individual. But, I think we'll find out in the very last few seconds and poor AC12 won't be any the wiser which will open up the foundations for a possible series 7. I think a lot of things will be answered for us viewers but not everything for the characters. I know that if they had a series 7 there would be an other primary focus but I just think it would be clever. Just like how we found out as viewers at the end of series 1 that Dot was a wrong'un.

Is Thurwell really dead?

I'm still very amazed by the whole induction of Jimmy Nesbitt as a series of photos. I know we were supposed to have a secretive guest actor appearance and I believe it was Robert Carlyle's name floating about which would have been insane! But that moment we saw Jimmy, I yelled at the screen. So, this answers the question of seeing a character that had only been mentioned previously - which has been very much hiding in plain sight. Even with a rewatch, I had forgotten about Thurwell and therefore hadn't even considered him. But, I did mention the list from series 3 which did loosely tie in. Anyway, when we learned that Thurwell and his Mrs were now dead and clearly had been for a while - it was cleverly shot so we didn't see who it was, only the Spanish Police's word. You know, I think if we were to get a series 7, Thurwell could appear and he's in fact not dead. It's very rare you get a very well known actor in for something so small without it leading to bigger things. Although, they got Andi Osho, a very much loved comedian in purely for archival photos and videos... I do feel that Thurwell could have easily been on the other end of the fake MSN, and doing Osborne's dirty work - especially with the Spanish connection. In a BTS photo we have seen a clue to a piece of paperwork regarding a time share (Spain mentioned) in front of Kate which will likely have a connection to Thurwell and Spain. I think he's possibly still alive but we'll see...

Joanne Davidson

Kelly Macdonald has been welcomed with a very warm reception. Wow, her connection to Tommy Hunter (albeit disturbing, homozygous DNA... nasty business) was not something I ever expected although I guessed very much so when we learned of the DNA match with a nominal. Would I define her as bent? I mean in layman's terms, yes she is. However each guest star has had a very complicated relationship with the definition - all have done dodgy things and usually for good reason... But I do sympathise with her because of her background, born into trouble, it was very hard to escape - even if her mum took her to Scotland for a life away from it all. From the very start of her career she was doing the OCG's bidding and it transpires she was in the police on Tommy's orders - so very much another caddy. I do feel Jo had always wanted to be a good person and do right and in some ways she did - however she's in too deep. Next I'll mention her relationship with Kate and it's something I'd never have predicted. A lot of suggestive and sapphic behaviour from the off. Now, I do think Jo cares deeply for Kate and has developed strong feelings - and I think Kate deep down has also but I don't think anything will happen sadly. And that's more for the fact that they had run out of track before they could even get going as so much has happened. Kate's gonna save Jo when her transport gets ambushed, that's a given... but I don't think we'll see anything happen that we want to happen. I hope I'm very wrong and we get something but with the hour we've got I don't think it'll be the case. And as for her fate? I think she'll survive. Guest leads usually die, eventually... with the exception of Roz who's serving time with one arm in Brentiss. Giving how unfortunate her life has been from her conception, I think it'll do her justice to escape with her life. Witness protection? Hmm perhaps... Although I think she's done enough dodgy stuff to warrant a prison stretch. Will she be instrumental in revealing who the fourth dot is? Well yeah actually, I think she grew up thinking Thurwell was her dad... and of course having connections to both Osborne and Buckells. Jo joined the force just before the turn of the millennium so would have been a copper when the Lawrence Christopher case occurred in 2003. Even though not directly working with them, I'm sure she knew what was going on and would have come across Osborne and Buckells at that time. I have a strong inkling that she knows exactly who she's been talking to and has been under their wing since the start. If she dies I will be gutted.

Kate

Where are we going with Kate? Well she's just killed Ryan (lawfully) and has gotten away with it. But Carmichael isn't thick... and nor is Steve and Ted. They all know but I think that'll be that for now. For ages I thought she was gonna D word but I think she's gonna be alright now. I hope that somehow she gets back into anti-corruption permanently because that's where she's best suited. I'm shocked that she hasn't had a glass box spectacular - my predictions for her to be accused of being bent and all that were way off the mark... and not a single mention of the two dying declarations... With only an hour tomorrow and so much to deal with, I guess that's not going to be mentioned. And Kate ain't gonna be sanctioned either. But, there's always opportunity with a series 7... She'll definitely be back in AC12, interviewing... I can't see all the BTS photos being Jed Herrings. But we'll see tomorrow!

Steve

Poor Steve eh? He's not had an easy time of it. Addicted to painkillers as I rightfully predicted, unable to trust his gaffer, torn on a transfer and a up and down friendship with his 'mate'. Oh and the car, actually let's not talk about the Mazda... Anyhow I believe that Steve will talk about his back and recent struggles with meds after a lot of emails from occupational health. Will he get pulled off the job at the last second because he didn't book an appointment... yeah I think that might happen and Kate takes his place or something. But there is a counsellor or something credited so I'm pretty certain on that. Will he lose his long overdue promotion? It's possible! I don't think the test was going to come back as a fail but more of a cause for concern - just that the levels of codeine etc in his system was higher than it should and it would be best advised to talk to someone. We haven't seen much pill taking going on since the drugs test so has Steve been going cold turkey? Or have they just veered away from that part of the story? In all fairness he's appeared fine with his back since the Windermere convoy - he ran across an industrial estate... I mean. I hope Steve gets a glimmer of hope and happiness because he rightfully deserves it. Ever since the start he's had his fair sharing of aggro and he deserves a break. I do think however he may be partly responsible for nailing the final nails into Ted's coffin - especially after he discovered the 50K up Merseyside and the truth from Lee Banks. I think he could be potentially happy with Steph, it would be nice for something to happen with them but we'll see. Steve needs a big hug.

Ted

This is going to pain me saying it. But, I don't think Ted is going to make it to the end. His retirement is inevitable. I can see the argument of the retirement being rescinded if they unmask the fourth dot etc and solve stuff but realistically, he's past retirement age. He's so focused on getting to the end of this marathon that I don't think he will see it through and know who it is - because he'll... yeah I don't need to say it. How? I've been saying his heart is gonna pack in. He's going to be in deep trouble over that 50k because Steve and Kate know the truth. But why would the likes of Carmichael find out... Well we've seen a clue of 'definate' on some paperwork - I reckon Ted by coincidence also makes this spelling mistake often as it is one of the most commonly misspelt words and therefore will be in the 'H' running again - he wont be 'H' as I reckon Osborne makes the same mistake... He alleges he misspelt it cos he studied the texts carefully but I think he spelt it how he usually would. They'll all go down the wrong path and accuse him which will lead to his ultimate downfall. Another little teaser is Steve appearing to listen to Ted's 2019 glass box spectacular however notably Carmichael says AC12 interview and not AC3... so mixing two different interviews to tease us? Maybe Ted might feel he has no choice but to sacrifice his career for the truth. However it all gets too much. Lies cost lives... I can't see Ted going on from beyond here and Ted was always supposed to be a minor character until he was very well received by the audience and he was made a main character. Realistically, his story is told and he's at his endgame. I hope he survives, by god I do... He's one of the most loved fictional characters at present. But I have a really bad feeling and I'm worried! It seems a total Jed thing to do for Ted to meet his end without ever finding the truth... seeing that's what his heart has been set on for about four years... I'm sorry to even be going there but it's what I think will happen. And I want to be wrong.

Miscellaneous Predictions

I want to round this all off with other little points. Carmichael won't be bent, maybe still involved with anti-corruption, you love to hate her, there's so much more they could do with her character. I don't think Steph's dodgy at all, she's just a widow whose been helped out by Ted in an unlawful way. I think her and Steve would be well suited. I hope Chloe will get to the end and continue on in anti-corruption, she's got a lot of potential. If Osborne isn't sussed, I reckon he'll still be CC. DCC Wise isn't bent either, just getting on with her job. But if Osborne does get caught and I'm wrong, there will be a lot of chaos for both him and Wise. Farida gets out of jail and starts afresh. Buckells I reckon will get out but won't be apart of the police force anymore. Lomax isn't bent, just a regular cop trying to get the work done. The rest of Jackie's remains will be found under the workshop floor, maybe with someone else? God knows who. Or maybe with some evidence that helps lead AC12 on the right track. Steve will still be an officer and Kate will be back where she belongs. There's probably more but my head hurts.

Will there be a series 7?

Yes.

Thank you all for reading my jumbled thoughts all packed into a text post. I'm nervous but excited for tomorrow night's finale. Let's see if I get anything right... probably not...

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elisaphoenix13 · 3 years

Text

Family Bonds

"Trade you my turkey sandwich for yours."

William stares at his twin as he slurps his soda noisely, ignoring the annoyed look Cassie is giving him from across the table. He had adopted quite a few mannerisms from the family after he finally felt comfortable expressing himself, and the noisy drinking could have easily been learned from Harley or Peter. Thomas didn't even look bothered. He just lifted the top slice of bread to show the fixings of the sandwich and it was enough explanation for his seemingly weird question.

It was devoid of honey mustard. William despised the stuff, but for some reason Thomas loved it. It was disgusting and he had no problem shoving the sandwich in front of him over to his twin. Once he got his blessedly honey mustard free sandwich from Thomas, he finally set his can of soda down.

"Mom probably wasn't paying attention when he was putting our lunches together." Thomas says.

"I don't blame him. He was frazzled this morning because Valerie and Lucy are sick." Cassie points out and then takes a bite of her salad. "Tony has meetings all day today so he can't help with them."

"How do you even know this? You weren't upstairs at all this morning." William points out.

"Dude, she's Mom's underling. Cassie is starting to just know things." Thomas snorts.

Cassie smiles. "Actually, he texted me and asked me to pick up some medicine for them after school. But I'm flattered you think I'm at that level."

"You are." The twins say in unison.

Cassie just rolled her eyes in response and they ate their lunch with the usual chatter. Classes, teachers, assignments, the newest rumor, and what they planned to do after school. The three of them normally walked home together (or William portaled them if he was up to it), and one of the things they knew they were going to do is go buy some medicine. Cassie also said she wanted to pick up some stuff to bake and decorate cupcakes and when Thomas asked about the occasion, she said it was just because. William didn't mind. He really liked her baking, not just because it always tasted amazing, but she also did a really great job decorating them. She even decorated them without going overboard with the icing which some professionals did.

The amount of icing should not equal the size of the cupcake.

"Maybe we can pick up some strawberries and whipped cream? Val likes to share those with me." William says.

"Sure. Mom said we could pick up whatever snacks we want anyway." Cassie replies.

"I need more pens too." Thomas says around his mouthful of sandwich.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Cassie huffs.

William half expected his twin to open his mouth just to gross Cassie out, but Thomas didn't and instead chewed and swallowed his food. Stephen reprimanded him for it on occasion as well, so it was probably finally starting to sink in. When they finished their lunches and tossed their garbage into the nearest trash can, the bell rang for class and they said their temporary goodbyes before they headed to their classes. William had a class by himself next period, but Thomas and Cassie had their next class together. In the past, when he didn't have classes with Thomas or Cassie, he used to feel alone. Now he didn't care. School actually got a lot better for him and his brother ever since Stephen and Tony took them in.

They used to be bullied for jumping from one foster home to another, for the crappy clothes each home barely managed to put on their backs...and they even went days without food, bathing, or adequate sleep. It was depressing. William and Thomas decided they would prefer to live on the streets than deal with more abuse, and it was barely a week later when Cassie brought Stephen to them. At the time, William barely trusted her, but he trusted her enough for him and his brother to go home with them. Maybe it was some kind of desperate hope that it would be different than before, that they would be shown the care and love they deserved.

When it was, William and Thomas didn't know what to do. Right off the bat they were given a hot meal, a hot shower, warm beds, quality clothing...an endless list of things. William was personally afraid that it was too good to be true, but as time went on, nothing changed. Well nothing except him and Thomas being moved up to the penthouse once Tony was done building their rooms. The penthouse was huge and probably had room for five more bedrooms, but it was nice to be close to their new parents and siblings. The twins, of course, still went downstairs to visit Wanda and Vision for movies or lunches, but being upstairs made them happy. At least William. He enjoyed the feeling of family he got from the two men and the other kids. He even felt part of it. He was part of it.

Now he was happily in a relationship with Harley, and he also enjoyed spending time with Valerie. He was one of the few she would spend time with if Stephen wasn't available and it made him feel special. He also liked that she was so easy to please. If he needed to keep an eye on her, he could put on her favorite movie and she would lay with him until she ultimately fell asleep, or she would color while he did his homework. Just like Diana followed Cassie around a lot, William had his own little duckling following him.

When the school day was finally over, he went to his locker to put away the books he didn't need and Thomas and Cassie met him just as he was closing it.

"Ready to go?" Cassie asks.

"Yeah. Maybe I'll help with Val today." William says.

"Mom will probably appreciate it. Apparently Tony has work he needs to do and can't put it off any longer." She says as they walk out of the building.

They walk as quickly as they can to the nearest store, and William has to keep himself from laughing when he notices how antsy Thomas seems to be. He was constantly found bouncing his knee while sitting or looking ready to bolt when standing that one would think Stephen and Tony didn't regularly try to give him a place to run as much as he wanted. Which wasn't the case. Their mother always opened a portal to the lake house for Thomas when he looked ready to vibrate out of his skin or whenever he asked. William was a little luckier that he could practice his magic as long as he was careful.

Cassie was quick to find the medicine Stephen wanted for the little girls, and then the three teens gathered the snacks they wanted before heading to the front to buy everything. Usually they would be picking up Diana by now but she had a half day so someone else picked her up. All they had to do was walk home. William teleported them this time because they had cold items that he wanted to stay cold when he made his and Valerie's usual snack.

"Hey Mom!" Thomas grabs the box of cheez-its that Stephen was already holding out for him when they arrived. "Thanks!" He says before running into his room.

"Here's the medicine." Cassie says as she digs it out of the grocery bag and hands it to Stephen.

"Oh, good. Thank you. It's time for their next dose." Stephen sighs as he digs out a small medicine cup and also a medicine dropper. "I knew I had just enough until you kids got home. Would you mind taking Diana downstairs with you for tonight?"

"Sure!"

William pulls out the strawberries and whipped cream and joins Stephen at the counter to cut the fruit. He could hear Cassie telling Diana to get her homework, toothbrush, and pajamas together and saw Lucy sleeping in the playpen in the living room. Considering that Stephen looked a little tired when they got home, one or both of the girls had been fussing all day because they weren't feeling well, but William was intent on helping him out now.

"Is Val asleep?" William asks Stephen.

"Maybe. She's in bed watching The Little Mermaid if she's not." He replies as he gently places the cup filled with pink gloop in front of the teen. "Don't let her have too much whipped cream and make sure she finishes this please."

"Okay."

William scoops the strawberry pieces into a bowl and some whipped cream into a smaller bowl before gathering them together and grabbing the medicine and juice box that Stephen also set in front of him. He also grabbed a breakfast bed tray on his way out of the kitchen so Valerie would be able to access the snacks easier and not spill. William had put his backpack down on one of the stools at the counter so it was out of the way, but if he didn't grab it soon, he was pretty sure he would find it in his bedroom. Stephen knew he was good about taking it straight to his bedroom, but considering the circumstances, he would send it to William's bedroom through a small gateway. So he left it on the stool in favor of getting up to Valerie.

She was sharing Diana's room now that Stephen and Tony had moved the toddler out of their room, but she was still prone to getting up in the middle of the night and climbing into bed next to Stephen. Once she was past that stage, she would be moved permanently into her own room. It was already ready for her, and she used it to play in and sometimes for naps, but Diana's room was closer to the master bedroom. Valerie's was closer to William's, and he fully expected to find her in his bed when she was in her room.

Diana and Cassie pass by William as he walks into the bedroom, and he closes the door once they leave and turns to look at Valerie in her bed. She was awake and blearily watching her favorite movie as William placed everything on the nightstand so he can set up the tray. When she notices his presence, she immediately makes room for him and he lays on the bed next to her, smiling when she snuggles into his side.

"Hey angel. Brought you a snack." He says softly.

"Berries?" Valerie whispers.

"You know it. You gotta take some medicine first though okay?"

"Yucky." She makes a face when William grabs it from the nightstand but takes it and drinks it anyway.

"You can wash it down with juice and strawberries." William laughs and grabs the juice box and opens it while the little girl sits up. "Here you go."

"Thank you Liam." She says quietly and sips her juice.

"You're welcome."

He then grabbed the two bowls and put them on the tray that he had set up over her legs and she puts her juice box on it to eat some of the fruit. William didn't even have to cut her off from the whipped cream. Valerie didn't seem very interested in eating much of it, and he was able to make up for it since she didn't double dip. He made sure to teach her not to do that when she started sharing snacks with him.

"Can you stay?" Valerie asks softly after a few minutes.

"Like sleep in here?"

"Uh-huh."

The teen looks over at Diana's bed and then back at Valerie. "Sure. Dia is gonna stay with Cassie tonight so I can sleep in her bed."

The smile his answer brought to his little sister's face was worth it. He was almost one hundred percent certain she would crawl into bed with him eventually but he wasn't worried about getting sick. If he did, it wouldn't be a big deal. Stephen would undoubtedly stay home again and make sure William was taken care of despite the fact that he was older than the girls and capable of taking care of himself, but the teen was happy knowing he had someone to go to for something as simple as not feeling well. He didn't really have that luxury when he was in the other homes. The foster parents would basically tell him to suck it up and go to school anyway. He learned to suffer in silence after a few times of that happening.

He and Thomas even did their silent suffering after being taken in by Stephen and Tony, but the silence didn't last long. Stephen very quickly found out (as Harley and Peter warned it would happen) and he gently scolded them for not going to him. The sorcerer dropped everything to take care of them and it was the best thing the twins ever experienced. Stephen brought them soup, medicine, and made sure they were warm and comfortable enough. William hardly noticed he was sick.

Stephen came into the room about an hour later, and halfway through Cinderella, to find Valerie cocooned in her blankets against William and sleeping soundly. The teen had since set the tray aside to get more comfortable and he pointed to the empty medicine cup before the sorcerer could even ask.

"She took it all."

Stephen smiles softly. "Thank you. Tony is finally done with work so he's taking care of Lucy now. Did you want to get up?"

"No. I'm okay for now. I told her I would sleep in here with her tonight anyway." William replies quietly so not to disturb the toddler.

"I'm sure that will keep her from being scared. Any requests for dinner?" Stephen asks.

"Food."

The sorcerer looks at him flatly. "You're no longer allowed to date Harley. He's clearly rubbing off on you."

William smiles. He knew Stephen wasn't actually serious, and the smile his mother gave him before leaving the room was confirmation. He ended up having to eat dinner in the room with Valerie when Harley brought it up for them later that night, and he did his homework on Diana's bed while Valerie watched another movie before going to bed for the night. Fortunately he didn't have much homework and was able to go to bed at a decent time, and he double checked to make sure his sister was asleep and okay before he went to sleep.

As he predicted, he woke up with Valerie in bed next to him, curled against his side, and the plus side?

Her fever had broken.

#mama bear au #william kaplan #thomas shepherd #cassie lang #stephen strange #valerie stark strange (oc)

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