#based on a true story btw guess who's nines

[kittynugg]

Nines: Skipping breakfast today because my stupid brother ate the last slice of the pizza Hank bought specifically for me yesterday. *Nines glares at Sixty, who's still eating the slice* Sixty: ..We have pancakes. Nines: I DON'T W A N T-

[lighthouseborn]

does he have or wear a necklace like that in his fantasy verse? or any of his other verses too?

Hi hello yes very good question!! Thank you for asking it! & I hope you wanted an essay because I have an essay for you. And it starts with me backtracking! If you only wanted a literal answer to this, skip down a few paragraphs to the part where I repeat the question.

So, [the necklace] is obviously very important to Henry, but it's also (to me, anyway) very important as an indication of Henry. I've always maintained that he is lucky. You could absolutely argue this as a narrative necessity or narrative symbol, and I think those are also true, but I also think he is, diegetically, within the realm of his story, a lucky person.

This is actually vindicated in Jeff N.athanson's draft of the script, where a proto-Henry (then a navy sailor called Henry Maddox) directly claims that he is lucky several times.

As well, the proto-Salazar (then Captain Brand) and Captain Barbossa both refer to this Henry as "lucky" in the context of being chosen not to die at the ghosts' hands and surviving the wreck of the Monarch.

And while that's all the literal uses of the word, there are several instances where the unlikely takes place and Henry just waltzes right though the whole thing. Not completely unscathed, mind you, just with an uncanny ability to get himself out of things. So we can assume the script really really wants you know that this kid is, for some reason, genuinely the luckiest guy in the Caribbean. He even survives the final fight by pure chance and good timing, despite being stabbed by a witch. (It's. Layered, how we got to 'Henry got stabbed by a witch'. In this version the Shansa character (then called Melia) gets more to do and Scarfield is the one possessed by Brand-flavored Salazar, also Carina is twenty-nine, and at one point several sailors gets eaten by large carnivorous plants. It's all very involved. Don't worry about it.)

Now: obviously this is not H.enry Tur.ner. But also, in a very real way, he very much is, in the sense that Hen.ry Turn.er as we got him was more or less directly transposed on top of this character, down to meeting a Barbossa in the infirmary on Saint Martin. Nathanson's first(?) draft of this script very much gives the early layout and elements of the movie we actually see - more or less the only carryover from the R.ossio "Dea.d Men Tell No T.ales" script is the name and the mention of Poseidon's Trident. And, I guess, a witch. So what is my point? Aha! My point is: while canon!Henry as we get him never directly claims to be, or is directly described as, lucky, the fact remains that a majority of his character is founded in a character-concept that was very deliberately & intentionally created to be lucky. And so while no one ever points directly at it, we still get things like:

he is the only survivor of the Monarch

he survives paddling "all the way to Saint Martin against the tide on a piece of drift wood" (insane)

he stumbles on Jack, the very man he is looking for, entirely by chance - further, after being pointed to Saint Martin by a captured pirate who just happens to know this

he ambushes the hanging square entirely unarmed*, and walks away without a scratch** despite most of his opponents being trained soldiers/naval officers

just in general escapes harm time and time again with a little bit of stalling and a lot of spectacular timing.

*There is a goof in various shots where he does, actually, have a sword in his belt, however he never draws it and in a majority of the shots, it isn't there. As well, both the novelization of the film and the companion novel which explores more of Carina's story (which are presumably based on the final script, though I have no concrete copy of the final script to confirm this) specifically note that he is unarmed.

from the novelization by Elizabeth Rudnick

from The Brightest Star in the North by Meredith Rusu (this one is the better book of the two, btw)

**A couple of punches from some navy men, and Carina more or less knees him in the chest when he catches her, but neither of these things are brought up again. Personally I think he probably cracked a rib or something, but that's a different conversation about the (lack of) realism and consequences when brawling in action-adventure movies. ((Stop smashing people over the head with things for a 'mild' take down. That kills and severely injures people for life.))

Ok so he's lucky- what does that have to do with the necklace? Aha!! So the entire thing with [the necklace] is that it is composed of good luck charms; objects literally, figuratively, and in general have the shape of good will and hope that good things find him, right? Right, but also wrong. Because the entire thing with the necklace is actually the symbolism.

For his young developmental years, Henry had (we infer just... by the general shape and implied access to learning materials (he can read, write, has many stories and facts about pirate captains memorized)) a stable and reliable home. He also had, implied by the final (it's mid or post credits, I believe?) scene of At Worl.d's End, meeting his father to look forward to, in some capacity. Whether he knew all his life or was told shortly before is entirely up in the air, but what we do know is Elizabeth and then-unamed Henry go to the shore to meet Will there. DMTNT tells us that within a couple of years* of this meeting, Henry was frustrated and dissatisfied enough with their situation after this meeting that it has driven him to research and obsession. Obsession, because it has consumed him to the point of him beliving tying a net of rocks to his ankle in order to sink himself onto the Flying Dutchm.an is a perfectly reasonable course of action.

*The age Henry is when he pulls his net-full-of-rocks trick varies(?) by source. In the novelization, he is labeled as twelve years old, and the main story takes place seven years later, making him nineteen. In the movie, the setting notation reads "nine years later" as we transition to the main story, and -presuming Henry is still nineteen- this means he was ten (and that the opening scene may be another facet of DMTNT being a soft reboot, thereby replacing the post-credit scene of the third movie.) Or, that he was twelve at the time, and twenty-one in the main body of the story. It's all very potayto-potahto. Either way he's still a kid so sure of his beliefs and of his faith in his family he staked his literal life on it. Absolutely out of his mind in the best possible way.

After this, Henry has a new goal, a new core drive, and, while maybe not literally speaking, in a certain way he has a new identity. He sinks himself onto his father's ship and gets nothing but a "leave me" and a necklace for his efforts. He then, no matter how you approach this story, spends a majority of his formative preteen and teen years obsessed with the concept of freeing his father, specifically via the trident of Poseidon. This is all he has been doing. Whatever life he has been living, everything in terms of his future ambitions, everything he has been striving toward is wrapped up in this effort. The original necklace -if it ever was just a necklace to Will, we really don't know what it meant to him- ceases to be a necklace and becomes Henry's ambition, and, in a very real way, Henry's identity. (The same way the journal(/ruby) is Carina's.)

So for the next years, Henry is this one necklace, figuratively speaking. It's what's been pushing him to do a vast majority of what he does. So then, at the end of the story, when he hands this necklace back to his father.... what does that leave him? He has handed himself over to this quest in so many ways, and hands the symbol of what it has made of him away in his final scene. Obviously this is a good thing. It also begs the question: without this identity driving him, who is Henry? (Who is Carina?)

So. Enter the new necklace. [The necklace] in question is a gift. It is, as mentioned, made of luck charms and gifts of memory and kindness and good will and affection. It is an anchor, a line thrown to him after he finds himself suddenly unbound, suddenly adrift. And it is, again, Henry himself. Henry is the lucky thing, the myth-touched, the love, the loved. Which, finally, yes, brings me to the actual question:

Does he have the necklace in every verse? And I do realize it was probably being asked in a strictly practical and physical way. I know that very simply "does he always rattle like a weird wind chime?" is what was being asked of me and I could have answered it that way, but that leaves out the context in so many ways that I wanted to talk about it before I talked about it. Because the necklace is more than a necklace. Now that I have made that abundantly clear we can talk about:

In a literal sense, no. He does not always have that specific necklace. He does, very often, have luck charms and/or guiding symbols.

Its one of his little quirks of character that carries around with him verse to verse, he's interested in folk legend and symbols and charms. He collects them. This is often multi-fold; in his blog-canon verses, he just collects objects said to be attached to or bound with magic and curses in general, not just lucky items. In his modern verse(s), he is or was studying folklore as part of his university major, and so things like that tend to collect when you're essaying and thesis-ing on highly specific subjects. (I'm not legitimately essaying on folklore I'm just writing about someone who is and I have bought no less than four but really kind of a bigger number I don't want to say different folklore books in the last couple years. The nerd urge to collect is real. (And despite what various fandom takes and the tvtropes page would have you believe, Henry is very much not a simple idiot, and very clearly a research fiend. Just. A research fiend who can also send navy officers down like they're made of paper.))

You singled out his fantasy verse- I would say this is the one most likely for him to have something very nearly if not exactly the same, yes! The exact charms might be a little different, especially considering the fantasy verse is sort of a jumping-off point for several more specific concepts of him, depending on the world I want the fantasy verse to match, but he probably has a necklace-o-junk in most versions of that verse.

Modern, I don't think he has one necklace, but I'm sure he has a few charms and baubles on necklaces, yeah. He has less need of a physical token in that verse in general, though. Well... actually maybe not less need of it, but the tokenization aspect of it is not the same, because his relationship with his father is very different in that verse. I don't know that he ever was given an object to latch onto in the same fashion, so the symbol language around the whole thing changes. This is also a verse where the things Henry does to get his father back take a very real toll from his actual physical body. He doesn't just hand a necklace back and lose his purpose by winning, he is badly injured and scarred and changed; very literally gives himself over to this goal. His future is also much more uncertain in that verse, right now. He's in a wandering stage, he's lacking a little bit of direction. Still very him, but... hasn't quite found a thing to aim at. The writing thing works for him, for now.

Descendants verse... I go back and forth. I've shuffled a lot of things around in that verse since I started it. And some of it stays really close to canon, while a whole bunch of it is also very very different, and it just. I'm never sure. I'm never sure about a lot of things, in this verse, to be honest. Part of that also comes with I've lost a few of the writers I had plotted things with and now I waffle on whether to keep all of them or sort some of them back out for the sake of more firmly defining the events of this verse. I can tell you it's entirely possible he has an identical version of the necklace, here. All the elements it would take for it are technically present. However, he also has different dynamics, and additional dynamics that don't exist in his home verses. I think... he's got something, here. And it might be more like modern, where he's got a few things and not just one necklace he wears all the time, or it might be something more singular I haven't identified yet. But I think he's got a little more need to have that... multi-direction anchor. A piece of here, a piece of there, this and that he would want to carry and keep close.

In his D:BH verse, the most analogous thing to the necklace is actually a tattoo. This verse technically riffs off of the modern verse, and so the literal physical tolls apply here, but what also happened was, when getting him into this world, I needed a thing to point him at. And what happened to point him that way wound up taking a shape that sort of mirrors his general arc but with specific fandom elements and so he's... really Henry if he lost his way and purpose twice. And so he's actually really very...aimless in this verse, in a different way than just not knowing where he's going next. He's tied himself to this one place, instead, so there's not literal going, but he has no clue where he's going with himself, here. He's got some things he needs to unpack but I'm not sure I even know what those things are or how to unpack them. There's a very real grief attached to him in the D:BH verse and the tattoo, the necklace of this verse, is driving him. And also possibly dragging him down, actually. I'm not sure.... the tattoo is a good thing for him to be aiming at. It does good - he does good, there. But I don't know if it's a good thing for him. Maybe he needs to get fired, hmm.

In the sense that he is the necklace because the necklace is him, is who he is? Well. He's very lucky to have who he has, is what I will say.

[greatwyrmgold]

Thanks to a certain barf kiss, I can't sleep. So let's speculate instead.

This episode, Kobeni reminded me that she has a devil contract—but a secret one. As of chapter 112 (which has some top-class dramatic irony, btw), we don't know what devil she has a contract with.

Whatever it is, it's something she's doesn't use any of the times she's outmatched—not against the bomb girl, not against the Darkness Demon, not even [spoilers] at Family Burger or the date afterwards. She also doesn't use it in the Eternity Devil art or her other fight that will probably show up this season, though they was a bit less perilous than (say) Kobeni's Car vs. Power's Driving.

My point is that it's either too pathetic for her to bother with in even relatively ordinary fights, or has a cost so great she's not willing to pay it even when her life is on the line. Considering both the fact that Himeno identifies timidity as Kobeni's greatest weakness and the fact that nobody would make a contract not worth using, I'm guessing the latter.

Anyways, I decided to look up some speculation. Here are guesses I saw and my thoughts on them.

She was being metaphorically literal, and has a contract with the Secret Devil. Love the idea, no clue what that would look like.

Something that requires human sacrifice to activate. It's why she carries a knife as her primary weapon, to sacrifice people. I like this answer, but it's not really an answer about who she contracted with.

A luck-related devil, with Kobeni's contract being that she has enough good luck to survive the danger she ends up in, in exchange for bad luck anywhere it won't kill her. This fits surprisingly well, and feels like a contract Kobeni would make.

Various forms of [agile animal] Devil, giving Kobeni her agility. Monkey Devil was most common, since one of her opponents says she moves like a monkey in one panel; the Mongoose Devil was also popular. I feel like Kobeni's agility is down to skill/talent and not a devil contract, so this one feels BS.

On a related note: Knife Devil, because knife skills. Again, I don't think that's magic.

The Black Cat Devil. Luck, agile animal, and Kobeni is one of nine sisters. Best animal-related contract I've seen suggested, but A. it's unusually specific for a devil (have any other devils had adjective-noun names?) and B. I'm not convinced that any of that is actually devil-based. Maybe the luck.

The Death Devil, because Kobeni avoids death so easily. Lame; a theory which obviously only exists because the Death Devil has been mentioned as an important devil.

The Hunger Devil, because she says her hobby is eating delicious food and she works at a diner at one point. Interesting if true, probably wrong, falls into the same category as Death.

The seventh most important being in Chainsaw Man canon, Kobeni's car. (I did actually see this one, though sadly the speculator explained that it was a joke.)

One I never saw but expected: A certain spoiler devil who would probably ask her contract be kept secret from the other Devil Hunters present. Now, Kobeni's behavior once that devil properly enters the story absolutely clashes with this theory, but I'm surprised I didn't see anyone theorize it.

Anyways, if you've heard other interesting speculation, let me know. I'd love to hear it.

[leahseclipse]

It’s always colder on your own

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst/ comfort

Warnings: SPOILERS OF S2 EP15-18, mentions of addiction, murder, kidnapping, rape (just in a sentence), drugs, traumatic experience, usual cm stuff

Summary: Old memories haunt the BAU's genius when a case involving addiction is handled by the team.

Requested by @imagining-in-the-margins​ ; based on this request:

Hurt/Comfort where there is a case involving addiction and the following happens: 

Reader: Are you alright? 

Spencer: Hm? Oh. Yeah, I-I'm fine. 

Reader: Okay. 

Reader: You know it's okay if you're not, right? 

Spencer: What? 

Reader: It's okay if you're not okay.

A/N: Its aaaaaaa I'm writing another request for imagining-in-the-margins— that's wowie- 

Oh and btw, for the mentions of the verse of the bible; I did some research about it based on the ones that Spencer recited, so I'm sorry if I accidentally made some mistakes, I unfortunately don't know much about it ^^

A/N (2); At some point of the story, when you’ll see text then [...] and text again, the “[...]” is the parts Spencer haven’t been listening to, he was distracted.

I hope you will like it, i tried lmaoo

Word count: 4.8k

__________________

It's just a little bit lonely in this home, it's always colder on your own, my darling I, I let the seasons change my mind. — Ricky Montgomery, This December

__________________

Spencer hasn’t felt that way for a long time, for way too long. 

That feeling seemed weird, but strangely familiar.

Although it had been a while since it had happened, he never really forgot about it; it stayed; buried deep inside his thoughts. 

He didn’t think that he’d have to deal with it again; well, he’s only dealing with his own problems, because it wasn’t about him this time; it was about the case, specifically, about the unsub.

Spencer had never thought the case would have turned out to be that way; it didn’t seem like it at all at first, he would have qualified it as normal- as the cases they had worked on before this one didn’t affect him personally in general- ,but none of the case the bureau works on are normal, you truly have to be mentally prepared for it because it never is normal, there always is a deeper meaning, and when the reason is discovered, it isn’t really pleasant most of the time, to the point everyone in the room had wished not to see it, but it isn’t very surprising anymore when you’ve been working there for more than ten years, you get used to it, eventually.

He wished that he could have said that he had moved on, but it never was the case, he didn’t forget these days, when he had thought that he wouldn’t make it out alive; and he almost didn’t. He had died there, probably for less than ten minutes as he didn’t suffer permanent brain damage from the lack of oxygen; but what had probably caused it was the dilaudid.

It had been injected into his veins, multiple times without his consent, for the only reason that it would make him feel better- which did not, considering what he had to go through after it happened.

He still regrets what he did after the incident; he snapped at Emily; thought of using dilaudid again: he clearly wasn’t himself, he didn’t even recognize himself whenever he was in front of a mirror.

Addiction stuff never goes away, and even though he didn’t forget, he didn’t think much about it daily, just when the subject would come up, or if he’d see or hear something that would remind him of it, but never the  thought of the matter had been that important until now. It never triggered him a lot when he thought of it, not until a case bringing it up was taken in by the team.

It had been exactly five days, four hours, and nine minutes since they had begun working on it, but if he’d be counting the time he had been working on it, it’d be less than that. He hasn’t been focusing well since the discovery of the addiction concerning the unsub had been brought up.

Why is it impacting me like that? It had never been that way before, so why did it stay since? I never brought much attention to it to the point of thinking of it non-stop. I always managed to distract myself, try to control my emotions, so why didn’t it work today? 

The only person who could- almost - make it go somehow go away was y/n. He’d look at her, and he’d be able to escape these thoughts for a moment as the only thing he thought about was her. 

Spencer could describe her as his guardian angel, he can't lie about it, she saved him.

He doesn't know what he'd be doing if she wasn't here; and now that he thinks about what happened with Hankel, he can't imagine that if he hadn't made it out alive, he wouldn't have met her, she wouldn't have met him; and the only way she could have known him was through memories, and pictures. 

Spencer would have been nothing but a frozen memory.

It sends chills to his spine whenever he thinks about it, the fact that he would have died at 25. 

He can’t keep thinking about it, as it isn’t good to remain in the past; but now he’s just stuck in them, he can’t really describe what he’s feeling, but he can definitely say that it's clearly not doing any good to his mental health; it’s ruining him.

But clearly he doesn't want to tell the others and add more problems on top of the ones they already have with the case, and eventually in their lives.

Spencer doesn’t want to feel like a burden to the others, it’s been more than 10 years since it happened and to him, he’s supposed to have left some of the tension that was crushing him, it had been supposed to at least go away, a bit, to the point it didn’t ruin his health; he doesn’t know if he should talk about it, or if he even wants to.

He knows that they’ll understand, he knows that they never judged him, and will never do it; but what if they don’t understand? He doesn’t even know why it appeared now, he doesn’t know what triggered him that much to the point of being in this state of mind. He always figures out everything, and now he can’t even solve his own problems.

Everyone says that no one knows you better than you do, but I guess that this time the ‘theory’ hasn’t proven itself to be true apparently.

Something refrains him from talking; but he doesn’t know why.

If he talks about it with y/n, it may or may not solve it, but it could release some pressure, perhaps. It’s not confirmed, but it could.

Now that he thought about it, were the thoughts that distractive to the point that he may have forgotten why he felt like that in the first place?

He remembers that stress can affect how memories are formed. When stressed, people have a more difficult time creating short-term memories and turning those short-term memories into long-term memories, meaning that it is more difficult to learn when stressed.

It could have been that, but how? He doesn’t forget stuff. 

He never does.

But, now that he thinks about it, is he looking at a reason when it is only right in front of his eyes? When it could only be his brain that reacted when the subject came up?

Spencer always figures out stuff, even what’s going on in his own mind; 

So why does he feel like he can’t do anything? 

Anything but watch himself sink down.

Is he trying to avoid it, doesn’t he want to solve it, or is he too afraid to face the truth?

Well, a part of him doesn't want to admit it, he could say that.

He doesn't want to face it, he doesn’t want to plunge the knife deeper than it already is. He doesn’t know, or can’t talk about it because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to explain , make the person he’s talking to understand his feelings, or even manage to get the courage to talk about it, to not get stuck in a middle of sentence because he suddenly freaks out, or doesn’t know what to tell anymore.

He hoped that it’ll get better. 

It could;

Or it couldn’t.

He’ll try to think about it later. It already was late enough, he wouldn’t get much sleep, so he’d better go now.

Spencer made his way to the entrance of the hotel room he shared with y/n, wondering if she still was awake; as she liked to go over the cases sometimes before going to sleep; but she wasn’t this time, she was laying on her side, the white blanket on top of her legs.

He made his way in the room, carefully closing the door not to wake her up; as she must have been drained of all the energy after the long day they’ve had;

He understands her, it really is exhausting, especially when the case goes nowhere. They didn’t manage to get much today, except...the addiction stuff.

Spencer would have normally felt relieved to have found a lead, even the smallest, but that lead wasn’t the one he would have wanted to find. He did want to find something else, but they weren’t appropriate thoughts, you can’t wish to find out he was a rapist or a murderer either.

Either it’s addiction, murder, kidnapping or rape stuff, neither is acceptable to wish for it to happen instead of what happened.

Neither.

He wishes he could erase it from his mind, at least, not remember it fully; but with that eidetic memory of his, that isn’t possible.

His eidetic memory is a blessing and a curse at the same time.

The curse part of it isn’t the best, it even describes itself by the definition of curse.

It always makes you remember the memories you certainly don't want to think about; and for Spencer, it’s literally his whole life, so he does want to not have it anymore most of the time because of that.

Unfortunately, that isn’t possible either.

If only it could, that’d allow him to rest better, especially now.

He made his way to the bed to the side next to the window; y/n had remembered that Spencer preferred to be on the side of the window. 

Gosh, he loves her for that.

It’s a small detail, but still, he appreciated it that she thought of it.

Thinking about her, he wonders if she did notice or not; because even though they don’t profile each other, y/n always tries to make sure he’s okay without pressuring him. 

So, if she did notice that time, she may not be talking about it because she possibly wasn’t sure whether he would react well or not; she knows that it’s a sensitive subject, and she didn’t want to trigger him or be in bad terms, but only if she knew that he wouldn’t ever do that.

He couldn’t yell at her, she’s the reason he’s here, the reason he stayed for. If he knew that five years after his arrival she’d enter the bureau, he would have fought every single day to survive and meet her, especially when he was with Hankel. He wouldn’t have given it up if it was for her.

He appreciated the team too, they were a second family to him; but he also would have liked to have the love of his life to fight for that day.

Spencer was relieved that she had arrived a year after it happened, he wouldn’t have wanted her to see him like that, he knew that she couldn’t have managed to think about anything, her mind would be fuzzy, she wouldn’t have managed to separate the right thoughts from the bad ones. He would have been relieved that it didn’t happen in front of her eyes, not the actual thing. 

He wouldn’t have preferred that to happen at all, considering the problems that it caused after it, and still from that day. He still thinks that it was his fault, even if the team made him know it wasn’t at all; but he shouldn’t have split up.

Both JJ and him could have died; JJ could have been badly hurt because of the dogs, if they attacked her, and spencer could have died there if Tobias or whatever it was, didn’t chose to try to resuscitate him; if he would have made him go in his own grave he had dig, or if he has shot before he managed to get his gun to shoot him in the chest.

He still remembers the look on his face.

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, he probably wouldn’t have forgotten it. It terrified him.

He had shot him before hankel managed to, and he fell to the floor, as Spencer kneeled beside him, looking at his terrified and disturbed eyes.

“You killed him."

“Tobias?” He asked, as he noticed the brightness of the flashlights from his peripheral view; and heard the distant voices, probably calling his name. He didn’t pay much attention, from the state and mindset, and his mind being...well, trying to focus on the man in front of him.

“Do you think I’ll get to see my mom again?” he slightly raised his voice, looking at Spencer. 

“I’m sorry.” Spencer had admitted.

And that was the last words he had probably heard, before his eyes froze as life left his body; his chest rising a final time, as his last breath dissolved itself in the cold air.

It wasn’t until several people had gathered around the area, Hotch lowering himself to Reid’s level in order to pick him up.

A feeling of relief had washed itself over him, he hadn’t realised that his living nightmare had- now that he thought about it- somehow came to an end.

He didn’t think he’d do it once, but he had hugged hotch; as Hotch gave him a pat after he had wrapped his arms around his upper back.

He had understood what he had said when Hankel had asked him who he’d chose to kill, after he had chose Hotch,

"He’s a classic narcissist; he thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team.

Genesis 23:4; let him not deceive himself and trust in vanity, emptiness, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.

When he had said this; he had messed up on purpose; his memory didn't fail him; he had recited the verse 'job 15:31', not genesis 23:4. He had hoped for them to understand the "mistake" he had done, hoping that one of them would know the real verse.

I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight “

Something had probably clicked in their minds, allowing them to discover the location Reid was at, or close to.

After that, he had gone to hug JJ, who had begun stepping towards him; before breaking the embrace as he reassured her that it wasn’t her fault after she had apologized.

That’s when he thinks that he messed up, what caused him to struggle even more. 

He had asked for a moment, to be alone; and shortly stepped towards Tobias’s cold, lifeless body, reaching out for his pocket to take the two dilaudid vials; shoving them in his pocket in a single move- possibly to not draw attention by taking his time if they were watching him-, before standing up, crossing his arms, each in the crook of the other.

He won’t lie to himself, the next days weren’t the best he had; the wound was fresh, so obviously he wasn’t in his right mind; he kept-

Spencer. 

Stop.

You’ve done enough damage to yourself.

He had put his hand on his forehead, before crashing on the bed, close to y/n to feel her warmth; hoping it could allow him to put his mind to rest.

Don’t think about it.

Just stop. It’ll be by constantly thinking about it that it’ll keep ruining you.

Spencer thought that it could- in a way- stop it, he didn’t really know what to do and think about at his point.

He closed his eyes, in an attempt to finish the rest of the night calmly.

-------

Spencer had woken up surprisingly early, way before the usual hour they'd go to work. 

The night wasn't awesome, but okay...ish.

He had taken a lot of time trying to get his thoughts away from his head, but when you're alone, the task isn't easy.

It's you, and your thoughts. 

Nothing else.

There wasn't anything to distract him as y/n was asleep; he wasn't going to wake her at 4am because he couldn't sleep, you certainly don't wake up someone for that.

He had woken up by exactly 5:45, not bothering to look at the window as he knew daylight wouldn't come at this time of the day, more around 7.

Obviously, he hadn't forgotten last night's subject, as much as he wished he could have.

But you know...eidetic memory stuff again.

As he looked as y/n lying next to him; Spencer had noticed that she hadn't apparently woken up yet; she was on her side, her face facing his. 

He had wondered if she managed to get a good night of sleep; she'd often get stressed because of the case, and as the case had contained something she knew concerned Spencer -in a way-, she must have been stressing about it.

She always put others before herself, if one of her friends wasn't feeling well, she'd abandon the activity she was up to, and focus on the person; no matter what, even if it meant staying for two hours to listen and help the one she was talking to.

She was amazingly caring.

Too caring to the point that Spencer would ask himself if he ever deserved her: he wouldn’t have thought that he’ll ever meet a person like that, acting so nicely with him, plus interested in a relationship, that is now going on for two years; that was...unimaginable. 

He liked being with her, a lot. She was a bit shorter than him, so he’d find it cute whenever she’d struggle reaching the top shelf; he didn’t know why he’d find it so cute: but it was like that. He’d go to help her, even if she wouldn’t ask, he’d do everything to make her happy, he’d never been in a relationship before her, so he didn’t really quite know what to do not to make her uncomfortable, not loved; he was so awkward and wouldn’t stop rambling or stuttering whenever he’d see y/n.  

But she never saw him this way. She saw him as a normal person, talked to him as she would to the rest of the team; and would often come to talk, even if she didn’t have a reason to. She apparently wanted to hear Spencer rambling about facts, or answer some of the questions she had; and it never bothered him, she could have come for anything, even if it was just to say hello or ask him to take a paper she had faxed. 

As long as he could see her, hear her voice, as long as she would be near him, it would be okay. 

He had hoped for a while to be more than just friends, but the introverted side he had made him keep his feelings stuck inside, with no possibility to let them go out as he didn’t even have the courage to. That decision would have been something he would have regretted for a while if Ihedidn’t choose to say it that day at the bureau.

Well, It all was in the moment, it wasn’t intentional, not at all, it slipped out, and he regretted it at first, as his first thought was her rejection due to her non-shared feelings towards him. 

“Hey Reid, you ready today? We don’t have any case for now, but we still have the paperwork from last day.”

“Oh- you’re talking to me? Sorry I- I thought of something. Could you repeat?”

“You? Distracted ? That isn’t surprising.”

“It’s rare, i’m paying attention most of the time.”

“Well you didn’t this time genius. Do you have a reason to defend yourself?” She said, in a playful tone.

“You.”

“...what?”

“I- I just, uh...it’s been a while since I wanted to tell uh…”

“...wanted to tell what?”

“That I- appreciate you; but not only in a…friendly way, it’s more than that. If you...get it. I...god, I’m probably making you feel uncomfortable right now.”

“Wait, you’re serious about this?”

“I’ve never been more serious than now.” Spencer said, not even stuttering, proving how serious he was in this moment.

“Then I feel the same, if that can answer your questions,.”

And that is how they began dating; with only eleven words; she had relieved him. He had been washed of all of his fears, now replaced with comforting thoughts. 

He had never forgotten this sentence. If he didn't have an eidetic memory, he would have immediately grabbed a post-it not to forget it.

The tiniest things that had set their relationship had been the biggest ones that he cherishes the most.

Spencer likes her so much that he's always afraid to lose her whenever they're on a case; he always has to go with her.. Although she always was with the others, he couldn't let anything happen to her without being able to be here to protect her.

She doesn't want her to see him getting hurt either; even though she insists to be with him; it's funny; the fact that they want to protect each other all the time.

But now, he did want to protect her, he didn't want her to worry about problems she has yet to worry about. 

We have enough problems.

I don't need to add more.

It won't do any good.

I'll solve it on my own.

Spencer crossed the door; as a group of officers and the team standing in the middle were. Hotch was walking through the room enunciating the profile of the unsub they were looking for, after managing to have enough information to form one.

Each word, each characteristic, would, or not, lead to the matter that had filled him for a week; he had tried for multiple times not to let the case reach him, it rarely did, and in that case, as it was mentioning a sensible matter, it wasn’t the most pleasant week at work, not really the kind of week he had imagine he’d had; especially not a one including a heavy mention of addiction with drugs that the victims had, and possibly the unsub as he knew specific types, and how to dose them enough to give a fatal dose. He either used them personally, or simply had knowledge of them: this fact couldn’t be confirmed yet.

“The unsub we’re looking for is most possibly a white male in his 30-40s, he [...] a stable situation, based on the frequency of the attacks, most of them being within working hours, and for a [...], killing people that don’t correspond to the type of victims he does his usual m.o; he’s perturbed, he knows people [...] ease in public, and probably may feel easily threatened and perturbed if someone [...], subjects that may trigger traumatism, causing him to become dangerous, and harm fatally other people if not controlled-”

Spencer hadn’t even listened to half of what he had just said, what he had been thinking about was taking more place in his mind than any other case would whenever he’d work to analyze it.

He had let himself get distracted, not daring to pay attention to his surroundings, to the point he hadn’t even seen y/n standing next to him, a worried expression plastered on her face. 

Is it that obvious?

Is it obvious to the point she could notice it without profiling me? Or has she…?

“Spence, I think that we should head out for a moment.” She quietly said, grabbing the sleeve of his cardigan. “You don’t look okay. Are you alright?”

Am I?

“Uh...yeah, I-I’m doing fine, just a bit tired.”

“Everyone is, but I can clearly see it isn’t the same type.” She tightened her grip on his sleeve, pulling him out of the room.

After she had managed to find an empty room, y/n had opened it, pulling Spencer inside as she closed the door, before closing the blinds that could allow someone from the exterior to see the room. She had noticed the lock on the door, not hesitating to pull it towards the right to lock the room. 

She looked at him, eyes tearing up. She placed a word before he had even gotten to.

“Spence, you know that...it’s okay if you’re...not okay, right?” She asked, hesitant.

“What...what do you mean?”

“You can tell me, it’s okay if you’re not okay. There is, no shame, to not be.” She said, as she sat on the seat next to her, Spencer following her action a second later. “..since when is it bothering you?” She placed a hand on his, rubbing circles with her thumb.

“When we...found out about the addiction matter, not long after we began working on the case. I don’t know why I stayed stuck on this.”

“Why didn’t you talk about it? If you had preferred to talk to someone else, I wouldn’t have been mad if you had gone to JJ, I know you guys have always been close.”

“I just thought that...I would bother everyone by adding my problems on top of the ones we already have. And I...didn’t know how to explain it.”

“And you didn’t want me to worry, right?” She asked, as he nodded. “I know that I worry about anything, but if it was about that, you know that I would have listened, and did my best to help, even though I wasn’t here when it had occurred. But I want you to know that I’m not mad about the fact you didn’t talk about it; I understand you.”

“I know you do. But, I was afraid you wouldn’t get it, or overstress because of it, because god knows that you stress about the tiniest thing,” He joked, earning a small chuckle from y/n. “But I just...kept thinking about it. The more I’d tell myself to stop thinking about it, the more it’d stay. I didn’t tell you everything about it, you just know about the livestream, and what the team had seen; and I...you know the next part, I had a problem with dilaudid; I had attempted to drug myself again, in the bathroom of an office, not long after. If Hotch hadn’t called me, I think that I would have done it.” 

“But you didn’t, you managed to get the strength to stop. And you still have it now. We’re also here to give you the strength you need, support, whatever includes helping you. We’ve always been here, it won’t ever change. And even if we have a case, we’ll find a minute to talk with you. You never, but never, bothered us.”

“You sure…?”

“Absolutely. So here’s what we’re gonna do, we’re going to go back to the room; and go through the case. I would have wished that I could tell you to completely stop working, but we have to catch him before he does more damage. But after it’s done, we’ll get back home; talk about it, stay together, whatever could make you feel better. Because it’s okay to ask for help when you really think you need it, there’s no shame. I know that it’s complicated for you to talk about your problems in general, but if you feel like you need to talk to someone, we’ll be there, all of us.”

“Yeah, I know. But, I feel like how I felt a few days after it happened, when I was in the room with him, every single word, what he did to me, and...when I shot him. I still can’t erase the look he had on his face; I just…” He inhaled, wiping a stray tear from his eye. He wasn’t the type to get emotional in front of other people, but when he was with y/n, it didn’t matter. “I...still think that I shouldn’t have split up with JJ, she could have gotten killed by these dogs if she didn’t have ammo. I still think that it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not Spencer. I know you still feel guilty, she felt guilty as well too when you got abducted; and even though I know you can’t erase what happened, everything is over, both of you are safe. I’m not a good talker, I know, but, to resume, I’m gonna help you with what you’re going through, you’re not alone. You’ll even take a week off if you need one, your health comes first; okay?” 

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Do you think you can go back, or do you need to go outside for a bit?”

“No, It’s ok, I can go back.”

“Okay, let’s go then.” She said, as she took his hand, their fingers interlocking: as Spencer felt the warmth of her hand against his skin. 

He liked feeling her warmth, it really was comforting, and would- somehow - chase the nightmares away, for a bit. 

He doesn’t believe that the pain will go away, his addiction problem never went away, even though he didn’t use any drugs anymore.

It won’t ever go fully, it’ll always stay, deep inside. 

But hopefully, her presence can possibly make it go away, make him forget, at least for while, 

So it won’t always be colder on his own.

__________________

Tags: @writing-in-april​ ; 

[hiqhways]

DAVID DOBRIK X DAUGHTER READER

(This is from my Wattpad (hiqhway)

Hey everyone! Welcome to my imagines book! The beginning of this story will be told in your POV!

WARNINGS- some cursing, mentions of young pregnancy.

-

I was a mistake, plain and simple. I was convinced at a high school party. And nine months later, I was born. My mother was only 16 when she gave birth to me. She was too young to take care of a child, she put me up for adoption a week after I was born and left without a trace.

I don't know much about her besides a necklace she gave to me as a child. Ever since she dropped me of at the center i have been jumping from one foster home to another, but none of them ever wanted to adopt me. I'm now 15.

I've been here for my whole life. 15 long years of being neglected and left behind by my piers. All my friends where adopted, I had to constantly make new friends. I was just one of the unlucky ones, the one that nobody wants. Madam Lizzie said that I still have a chance but so far, I'm giving up hope.

Every night before adoption day I stay awake until the birds start chirping, my thoughts were always so loud, wondering if tomorrow would be the day I would have a family of my own. But it never was. Today was adoption day, and I had to get ready.

I just slipped on my tank top and jeans and helped the kids onto the bus. Two hours later we arrived at a large park, all decorated at usual.

Now when I say I was the only kid who didn't get adopted isn't completely true. Me and a huge group of other teenagers rarely get adopted because everyone wants a young kid, not a teen. The thing is, over half the kids who age out of foster care end up homeless, addicted, incarcerated, or dead within two years. So with no parents to cry to when I'm heartbroken or nobody to come home to on the holidays... I felt, lonely. But me and the rest of the kids were used to it by now.

Me and the other teens sat on our usual spot on the stairs away from the rest of the kids. We all were casually eating and drinking just talking to each other without a care in the world. That's when a voice interrupted my thoughts.

"David what are you doing?" Said an annoyed voice. Which grabbed my attention. "Everybody's avoiding them like they're

dipped in shit. I'm just gonna go say hi!" I could tell hey were referring to me and my friends.

"I know. I think it's awful. But they're teenagers, okay? They use drugs, and they masturbate!"

I then stood up and lightly threw my drink on the grass and walked over to them.

"Excuse me? Hi." I said to them, both their heads turning to me. One of them had black messy hair with a black hat on, he was holding a camera by his side. The other one was an older looking man.

"Just FYI, we can all hear you." I said

"Hmm?" They replied with a confused expression.

"Uh, we appreciate the concern, but there's no need to go all pity crazy. We know how this works. So just go on. It's okay. Go mingle with the kiddies and don't give it another thought, okay? Have a good day, folks. Thanks. Bye-bye" I said walking away leaving them dumbfounded.

-

[TIME SKIP]

"Y/N there is someone who wants to talk to you!" Madam Lizzie told me with a bright smile.

Is this my chance to finally have a family? My anxiety started to build up when I walked into the room, but I put on a bright smile. The door opened to the two men that I saw earlier at the park.

"Hi Y/N, my name is David Dobrik and this is my good friend Jason, nice to meet you." The man with the black cap told me with his hand out for me to shake which I gladly took.

"Hi! Im Y/N. I'm sorry about earlier, it's just that kids like me don't really get these kinds of chances here at the adoption center."

"We understand, but we don't care about age. You deserve a chance. We would like to adopt you." 

I stared at David will my mouth hung open. I was at a loss of words that I didn't realize the tears streaming down my face. Without realizing I gave David a bear hug.

"Thank you, thank you so much." I said between sobs. Before I pulled away, wiping the tears from my eyes.

"Now David I need you to sign these papers and your all set." Madam Lizzie said as she handed the release papers to David. After he signed them, him and Jason brought me outside.

"HOLY SHIT DUDE! Is that a real Tesla?!" I said referring to the expensive white car that we got into. David laughed at what I said, nodding.

"So Y/N tell us about yourself." Jason said, grabbing my attention.

"Well, I'm 15 years old and when I was a child my mother was only 16, so she put me up for adoption. I've been jumping from foster home to foster home my whole life. I play volleyball, the adoption center has some sports teams. I'm really good with dogs, like a can basically speak to them. I love animals" I said with a laugh

"Umm I have trouble falling asleep sometimes, my thoughts are always so loud. I also like to draw things. I actually have some sketches if you want to see them."

David put his Tesla on auto pilot as I took out my sketch book, opening to my favorite and most recent sketch.

"I like to draw dogs mostly but I also like drawing people. Whenever I'm in public I always draw things around me."

I handed the book to David who passed it onto Jason. "Damn girl, these are good" Jason said in an annoying white girl voice.

"Yeah Y/N these are really good!"

"So David can you tell about yourself?"

"In around 2013 I was a famous viner and a couple of years after I made a YouTube Chanel. I make vlogs with my friends Corinna, Jeff, Alex, Todd, Johona, Zane, Heath, Jason and so on. Also my assistant Natalie, who is my best friend from my hometown Chicago. I used to live in Slovakia but immigrated to America. FYI me and my friends so dumb shit." David explained.

"So your like famous? Shit that's cool"

After a while of talking we finally pulled up to this HUGE house on top of a hill. I just stared out the window looking at it, zoning out, that I didn't realize that David was calling my name and that him and Jason already left the car.

"Sorry, this place is just so AWSOME" i apologized as we walked into the house.

"Natalie! Y/N is here!" David yelled out. Shortly after a girl with dark hair walked in. She was so pretty.

"Hi I'm Natalie" she introduced herself, with her hand out for me to shake, which I took. "I'm Y/N it's really nice to meet you. And btw your house is sick!" I said with a laugh.

"Haha. I can already tell we will be good friends. Here I'll show you to your room." She motioned for me to follow her. She led me to a big room. It was so pretty.

(Kinda like David's but the shapes are grey not black)

"Wow. I love it! Thank you so much." I gave Natalie a big awkward hug. "No problem kid. You should get some sleep. It's been a long day for you." She said shutting the lights off on the way out.

THE NEXT MORNING

I woke up to screams and laughs coming from the living room. Rubbing my eyes and brushing my hair I walked into the living room to be meet with a group of people fooling around.

"Oh I forgot to tell you. This is Y/N she is 15 and I adopted her yesterday. Y/N these are my friends Corinna, Jeff, Todd, Erin, Carly, zane, heath, Alex, josh, Ilya, Dom and Mariah" David said motioning to the big group

"Hey guys. I'm Y/N and I'm tired" I said plopping down on the couch. Making them all laugh.

TIME SK IP

After a long day of fooling around and getting to know each other I finally got close with everyone, they were basically like family now. I'm mostly close with Jeff out of them all besides David and Natalie of course. But they are all so amazing. I guess life is gonna be great from now on.

A/N- Thank you guys for reading! Don't forget to Vote and leave your comments! Hope you guys enjoyed this! If you didn't notice some of this was based off of the script of INSTANT FAMILY (2018)

[wahbegan]

Doctor Sleep Trailer

Yeah i’m doing one of these i guess i keep looking for one on youtube that actually gets everything and i can’t find one and it’s pissing me off so under a read more as per usual because these can get wordy

So first thing’s first Dan and Abra’s psychic link appears to be visualized via chalk writings appearing on the wall which is pretty inspired better than like echoey voice-over in their head kind of thing. Also at one point it looks like they have a conversation where it cuts back and forth between them in different locations a la Rey and Kylo in The Last Jedi but the trailer also might just be cut like that

Oh yeah Dan’s got scrubs too so it looks like they’re keeping his whole “works in a hospice and psychically helps people die” thing intact i mean i...i woooould fucking hope they do since it’s what the title of the damn book is based on but anyway it’s nice to see some kind of confirmation

So this movie, according to all sources, is attempting to really toe the line, kind of walking a tightrope between being faithful to King’s story while retaining enough visual callbacks to the Kubrick film that people will associate it with that universe, and i think the MURDER written on the wall is step one of that. But more on that a bit later

So the blonde girl on the beach we know from cast listings i thought it was weird because she seemed too old to be The True Knot’s prey and Rose the Hat seemed to be breathing steam onto her and none of the other members were partaking so i thought it was weird BUT yeah i checked the cast listing and the blonde actor is actually playing Snakebite Andi, so what we’re seeing on the beach here is i assume her induction into The True Knot.

Speaking of which, The True Knot members i know we’re seeing based on cast listings and pausing the trailer over and over again are, from left to right on the beach: Apron Annie (she’s the one in the blue and red in the woods as well), Unknown, Crow Daddy, Grampa Flick, Silent Sarey, Barry just Barry according to the cast listing lmao probably a good call, and another Unknown. It seems those are the only seven well plus Rose and Snakebite so i guess those are the nine we’re getting, cause the same seven are seen in the background of the woods, just in a different order (Unknown, Sarey, Crow, Flick, Annie, Unknown, Barry)

That scene of them getting a little girl by the water while she picks flowers I assume is a Frankenstein reference btw and looks real creepy i like it. Seems to be before Snakebite Andi’s induction into the group

Okay so yeah they clearly re-shot bits from The Shining and Dan has ghosts that survived in lockboxes in his head and has The Overlook as a safe place but this doesn’t seem like any of that, it just seems like pure flashback

This kid getting in the van in the cornfields I believe is “the baseball boy”, who we get a....just lovely, lovely scene of The True Knot feeding on him it’s fucking grotesque

Couple quick shots, I’m not sure what he’s digging for, but he’s probably trying to find something in the remains of The Overlook, i don’t know. It could be a mindscape, actually, oooohhh maybe he’s unearthing his mental lockboxes shut up it could be

Number one, this is a very Mike Flanagan ghost Dan is looking at in this shot number two i think it....might supposed to be his mom? Wendy? I DON’T KNOW DON’T JUMP DOWN MY THROAT. Wait hold on maybe it’s not a ghost at all maybe it’s you know that thing where he sees flies on someone before they die there is a maggot on her....i think it’s a ghost though. And possibly his mom.

Yeah that looks like Rose the Hat’s hand tryna do some shady shit to Abra i like how they’re visualizing the psychic fuckery in this movie it’s really an important thing to nail and I feel like they’re doing it well

Other shots i don’t have much to say about yeah the twins, looks like somebody from The True Knot going to drug that girl in the woods (Violet McGraw from THoHH, by the way!) Except I just checked again and none of them are dressed like that so it must be a different scene, uhh oh Abra using The Shining on her dad for some reason, probably to show him something, Rose is pissed i REALLY hope they have her go full pinprick eyes massive weird jaw but given Mike Flanagan’s penchant for having people unhinge their jaws in a spooky way i’m sure they will

Okay THIS part i do have something to say about when Dan slides towards the wall, you can’t really see if you pause cause it’s always blurry, but if you read around him and below MURDER it says BASEBALL BOY so here’s the tightrope i was talking about earlier i think instead of DANDANDAN THEY’RE KILLING THE BASEBALL BOY the message he’s gonna get from Abra is gonna be MURDER BASEBALL BOY and then he’s gonna slide into like witnessing The True Knot torturing him to death and feeding off of him. Very cool visualization, keeps the essence of the scene intact, has that nice MURDER reflecting REDRUM in the mirror callback, so fans of the Kubrick movie will be happy. I think it’s a good compromise. Although THEY’RE KILLING THE BASEBALL BOY definitely has a creepier ring to it than just MURDER BASEBALL BOY but i nitpick

Given that The Overlook’s no longer standing, this has gotta be a mental projection Dan’s in, and i mean he does has a safe place in his mind based on The Overlook, but i don’t know why it’d be all dirty and have the hacked up door and REDRUM if it was that. If you want my guess, they wanted a scene like this in here for not only a bit of fan service but also to visualize...Mike Flanagan with Oculus and The Haunting of Hill House both has indicated that he has a keen interest in repeating cycles of mental illness in families, which is a heavy theme in this book. I mean Dan struggling with anger and alcoholism and not being Jack is y’know like most of the point of the book, and I think as well as just shameless fanservice, him seeing the old hotel room and putting his face through the hole his father hacked in the door is supposed to be a visual representation of the cycle and how he’s trying to break it

Anyway that’s about all i got but it should be enough you greedy fucks

[prettyfunkyunorganized]

Sugar Daddy Hanzo part 10

Good evening everyone! Or whatever time of day it is where you are. I’ve got another chapter for you today, but first a few announcement-y things:

1. Just moved and started grad school so I’m busy AF, so if chapters continue to be a bit shorter than they were at the beginning, that’s why.

2. I am starting up a new tag on my blog that will be side info about this story - stuff written from Hanzo’s POV, fun facts, ideas I’m considering, and questions for you! You can always submit questions too via the ask feature on Tumblr or you can use the tag #sugardaddyhanzoextras (sugar daddy hanzo extras). That is the tag I will be using for all this type of content and if you would like to be tagged, feel free to let me know!

3. I love you. 

So yeah, that’s it! Here are 2,800ish words of mush essentially. 

BTW, this whole business world AU is based on my bud @watch-your-grammer‘s post here. She’s glorious and so is her work.

The rest of the story: pt one, pt two, pt three, pt four, pt five, pt six, pt seven, part eight, part nine

Waking up had never been so difficult. Your eyelids dragged, almost impossibly heavy, but not nearly as stiff as your arms. Every shallow, tentative breath was a struggle, and your chest ached with each inhale. Each exhale. You looked around the brightly lit room and frowned. “Guess we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” you grumbled to yourself, “or maybe I’m the witch – certainly feel like I’ve been hit with a house.”

By some odd circumstance, it looked like you had the room to yourself, the bed to your right was folded up tight with precise corners as starkly white as the walls and ceiling above you. Everything was so . . . sterile, as if you had been transported to your very own dimension, removed from the rest of Earth. It was unsettling.

And sad.

Your chest tightened in a familiar way that had nothing to do with your injury, it was a painful manifestation of your growing disappointment and loneliness.

“You’d think the gals would at least come by to see me,” you whispered as tears welled in your eyes, “and if getting shot isn’t enough to get Mom and Dad to come visit me, what is?”

In a burst of realization, you remembered what had happened and put a hand over your breast, a powerful tenderness warning you to be gentle.

“Holy fuck I got shot,” you gulped looking for the nurse call button and slamming it while trying to tame your breathing.

After a brief pause that seemed to last ages, a nurse swung open your door and scuttled in, but not before you saw what looked like a dark suit a dark expressing in the hallway.

“Well, hello there,” the tall man in scrubs said with a smile. The bright corgi pattern on his shirt relaxed you for some reason, maybe it was because that was the first bit of color you had seen since you awoke.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“You look scared,” he murmured kindly, “don’t be. We got you all patched up, and you’re going to be fine.”

“Oh thank goodness,” you sighed, running your hands over your face. Of course you knew that you were alive, but hearing a nurse say ‘you’re not dying’ still made you feel a thousand times better.

“Do you remember what happened,” he asked. You nodded. “Good. And how are you feeling?”

“Uh,” you hesitated, “pretty shitty? But not dead so, I could be worse?”

He chuckled, “Very true. Feeling sore in your chest, right?”

“Oh yeah,” you groaned.

“We will get you something to help with that and check over your bandages here in a sec, I just want to tell you what we’ve done on our end if you’re feeling up to that.”

“Sure,” you nodded, trying to glance out the window so you could figure out if what you had seen was what you were desperately hoping to see. Then again, it was a hospital, and there were likely hundreds of patients here with worried family.

And Hanzo wasn’t family.

And he hadn’t taken you back.

And the nurse in all his corgi covered glory was in your way.

“Alright,” he said looking at the digital display on his arm, “you were brought in with a bullet wound in the chest, it went right through you, but went through your lung.”

“My lung,” you gaped in horror.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “that is what caused you so much trouble, but medicine has come a long way, and we were able to have your stem cells from your baby teeth flown in and have started growing you some new lung tissue. We had to do one surgery to keep you alive, so your left lung is currently dormant, and your right is doing all the work, which is probably why you’re likely feeling a little like you’ve been running a lot and haven’t quite caught your breath. Once your new tissue is ready, we will get you into the OR again have you feeling right as rain before you know it.”

“Wait,” you said reeling at what he’d just said. You knew your baby teeth could provide stem cells for fancy medical stuff, but patching up your lung? “So . . . you’re going to be able to just cover up the holes in my lung?”

“Yes, ma’am, just like a punctured tire.”

“Ew,” you grimaced at his analogy.

He laughed, “Yeah, sorry. The other nurses say I’ve got a way with words, but I’m not sure if they mean that as a compliment.”

“I mean, it helped me understand,” you shrugged, “but is my lung still going to be able to function normally with a patch? Am I not going to live as long or something because of this?”

“Actually, the procedure has been tested very thoroughly on patients with lung cancer, and there is very little if any loss of functionality. Patients with renewed lungs climb Everest, run marathons, and live long healthy lives – so long as they take care of themselves, that is. If you eat fast food every day or do drugs and die young, you can’t blame that on the new tissue.”

“Of course,” you nodded. “That’s pretty god-damned amazing.”

“It sure is,” he beamed, “the biggest inconvenience is the post-op checkups and drugs to help encourage faster healing, but all that will be finished up in a few months.”

“Good to know,” you sighed, a thin smile forming on your lips.

“Anything else you need right now, or should I start taking a look at you?”

“I – well, actually,” you fumbled, try to lean over and see the window, but you cringed at the pain, “could you just tell me if I have anyone out there waiting to see me? I – I thought I recognized someone.”

“You sure do,” the nurse said with a playful shake of his head, “you’ve had lots of people come in and out to see you, but it’s late at night right now, so the only one here at the moment is the older gentleman in the suit who basically never leaves. Man’s practically a part of the furniture now.”

You grinned so wide your chapped lips hurt, but you couldn’t stop. “Is his name Hanzo? Is he still out there? Will you tell him not to leave yet?”

“Calm down, calm down,” he laughed, backing toward the door, “I’m sure he’s still here, and I’d be happy to tell him you want to speak with him.”

“Thanks,” you said, blushing at your girlish excited outburst.

Without entirely closing the door behind him, the nurse spoke quietly with Hanzo, who had been waiting with an impatient look on his face. The instant you saw him you were relieved. In all honesty, you would have been happy to see anyone you knew out there, but knowing it was him was almost too good to be true.

The nurse came back in and asked you a few more questions while surveying your condition and giving you a bit of pain medication, but ‘not enough to make you all loopy,’ as per your request. Pain meds had always given you the creeps. It was awkward to have a man you’d never met poking your bandaged up boob while the other one laid out in all its glory, but thankfully as soon as you wrapped your hospital gown back up, Hanzo was waved in.

“Hey,” you said as he closed the door behind him. You did your best not to look like a giddy schoolchild, but you were far too happy to be in the same room as him again. Part of your uncontrolled emotion was definitely the drugs, but not all of it. You didn’t care if you shouldn’t be so enraptured to see him, at least not now. You had been shot, you could feel however the fuck you wanted.

“Good evening,” he responded lowly. The distant tone in his voice made you face fall flat, and the physical distance he kept between you made you pull your knees closer to your chest sadly.

“I was, um, well I was kind of surprised to see you here,” you admitted sheepishly.

Hanzo sighed and looked away. “Yes, I probably should not have come, but I felt I had to. That, and I could not find the will or focus to do anything other than sit here and wait for news on your condition.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said softly, “extremely so.”

His lips pursed as his gaze landed on something next to your head. “You are the only one who has been happy to see me here.”

You twisted around as far as you could until your chest muscles griped at you to stop. There was a tiny speaker clipped to the bed frame with a note attached to it. “That sweetie,” you chuckled as you read Lucio’s message:

‘Sorry I couldn’t stick around ‘til you woke up! If I missed another tour date, the bosses were going to have some fried frog legs at their next meeting. Call me THE SECOND you wake up and know that I’m thinking of you. Lots of hugs, your best-est client.’

“He’s always so good to me,” you said shaking your head and the sad frog sketch Lucio had done on the other side of the card.

“I am glad you have found someone that has made you happy,” Hanzo said almost inaudibly, his eyes turned to the ground, bangs in his face as if trying to hide the sour look on his features.

Was he . . . jealous? Clearly you were feeling a little better because the devious part of your mind was suddenly much more awake. No, you shouldn’t be happy that Hanzo was feeling all put out at the fact that you had someone new if your life, but shit! How many people got to see the illustrious Hanzo Shimada practically dripping in envy?

Plus, it meant that maybe – just maybe – you had a chance to have him back.

Maybe it took almost dying to realize that you were willing to give Hanzo another chance, or maybe that bullet had torn right through your resolve, but you knew what you wanted now, and you were ready to admit it. More than that, you were ready to fight for it.

If Hanzo really wanted you to find love with someone else, fine, you understood, but you weren’t going to just walk away. Not again.

“Perhaps I should go,” Hanzo said abruptly, “the nurse assured me that you will be fine and now that I have seen you for myself I believe I am feeling much more assured. Goodbye, and I hope you – ”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you shouted, sitting up and groaning at the way your body protested. You were shot in the chest, so why did your back feel like agony, too?

Hanzo turned back you, looking very unsure of himself. “What is it?”

“You know Lucio is just a friend, right,” you asked.

He scoffed and glowered at the door. “That is not what the tabloids say.”

“Since when do you put stock in the tabloids,” you said giving him a skeptical look.

“There are photos,” he said grimly, crossing his arms and keeping his gaze off you.

“Of what? Me and my friend walking into a party together? We may have been ‘arm in arm’ and all that, but people do that all the time. He’s just a public figure, so everything gets blown out of proportion,” you said matter-of-factly.

“The pictures of him covered in your blood and sobbing as they brought you to the hospital are quite . . . telling,” he insisted.

“Hanzo! I had just been shot! And he’s one of my friends! One of my best friends, in fact. If Gabe were to be gunned down in front of you wouldn’t you be looking a little disheveled?”

His head bobbed as an admittance that you had a point.

“Come here,” you demanded, holding a hand out to him. His body went rigid, and he didn’t move. “Please,” you pouted, beckoning him again.

This time he slowly made his way to you, stopping far enough away that you had to lunge forward a bit to grab his hand and yank him closer. His eyes were wide with surprise, or maybe concern, but fingers curled automatically around yours. You brought his knuckles to your lips and place a gentle kiss on them, the tension in Hanzo’s shoulders floating away, letting his perfect posture slip into a more relaxed stance. You were glad you still had that effect on him. Big oaf needed to pull that stick out of his ass every now and again.

“Lucio means a lot to me, but not the way you do,” you told him in the most earnest tone you could muster. “You’re the only person I want to be with, you’re the one that I wanted with me more than anyone else when I thought I was dying, and you’re the person I most wanted to see when I opened up my eyes in this place.”

“You know,” Hanzo said with a small smile, “you make it very hard to stay away from you.”

He leaned against the rail of your bed and set his palm on your cheek gingerly, you leaned into its warmth. “I guess getting shot has its silver lining.”

“I vehemently disagree,” he barked firmly, “it should not have taken a gunshot to bring us back together. A conversation would have done just as well.”

“Hey, for the record, I tried that,” you retaliated. “That night in your brother’s big fancy bathroom I wanted to talk about it but you – ”

Hanzo silenced you by placing his thumb over your lips, and you giggled, kissing the pad of his finger in delight. Having him this close again was everything you had hoped it would be. “I am sorry for that night,” he said tenderly, “I was only trying to – ”

“Trying to do the right thing,” you finished for him, nodding understandingly. “I know, and I was, too. But I don’t care about what’s ‘right’ anymore. I don’t want to give up on what we could have together, and I know you’re on the way to changing. I’m tired of chasing the ideal of what should happen. I just want to be happy, and you make me happy.”

“My beauty,” he cooed, placing a long kiss on each of your temples, “you make me happy, too.”

“Does that mean you’ll be with me again,” you asked, wriggling closer to him.

“How could I say no,” he chuckled, dancing his fingers along your exposed arm until you shivered, making him grin.

The two of you basked in each other’s presence, but no matter how hard you tried to keep from overthinking things, you had to ask him something.

“Hanzo?”

“Yes?”

“Will I be your sugar baby again or . . . ?”

“I – well – ” he stammered, clearing his throat to buy him time to find an answer.

“The full-fledged relationship idea still freaks you out, doesn’t it,” you asked worriedly.

“Yes,” he huffed frustratedly, “though I do not know why. I know I want to be with you, and I know that I want more than that sort of arrangement with you, but there is something about that word, that step that just . . . fills me with a dread I do not understand.” Hanzo looked down to you, an ashamed expression on. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you said stroking his jawbone, “I don’t mind being your sugar baby again, but I’d like to set down a new set of rules and whatnot.”

“Of course,” he said, sounding relieved, “I believe that would be necessary.”

“But you are still going to your therapist, right?”

“Yes,” he said with a strong nod, “and this is something we have discussed lightly, but, as you know, there is much about me that needs to be . . . dealt with.”

“We’re all a work in progress,” you assured Hanzo, pulling him down so you could kiss him on the nose. The token of affection made his face go a little red, and you burst out laughing. “Good god I missed you and the way you blush, handsome.”

“I am quite convinced that you are the only one who can make me blush,” he grumbled, smirking just a tinge.

“Oh I bet Genji could tell me some fun stories that would make you all flustered,” you teased.

“Just who’s side are you on,” he said with a scowl.

“Mine,” you said brightly, “a girl’s got to put herself first, you know, and that’s what I do.”

“And I adore you for it,” Hanzo hummed, meshing his fingers into yours.

“Don’t worry,” you said, giving him a gentle squeeze, “I’ll always be in your corner, though.”

“A fact that makes me infinitely stronger.”

“I’m glad you realize that,” you said, beaming at his progress, “a couple of months ago I pegged you for the ‘I don’t need anyone’ type.”

“I have since learned a few things, met a few people who have shown me otherwise,” Hanzo said, holding your clasped hands to his heart.

@collinssie @watch-your-grammer @zarcake-writes @yesthisisbae @eebbapanda1@deercapitate @missbumblina @skyrina @justjaaaay@thewetbones@skyelentnight @ilovebva @punk-dork @cbrokeherboobs@sobanoodledragon@sydniesamm @honeyburger @knightofsexyness @queenoflabyrinths@speakingishard @iknowimcutethanks @ninevast @ivymarquis @sydniesamm@barbie-the-centrist @tumblertrash @angle0fthegourd@shaybae1997 @lillypet95 @rusty-potato @tt-nikithakppr

** please let me know if you would like to be tagged or removed from the tags in future updates and sorry if I missed anyone, I feel like tumblr is deleting my shit**

[spnbaby-67]

Craving You Chapter 7

A/N:  Thank you to @writersaredreamers for beta’ing this chapter, I hope you guys like it. I’m still learning a lot by writing fanfiction and any ideas would be helpful. Let me know if you guessed Jensen’s job title yet, Also this is an AU where Jensen is single, if you have any ideas for a fun day for them, let me know. I’m up to chapter nine currently. I’m hoping for chapter 8 soon it’s a 2 part which is pretty cool.. thank you for your feedback, and leaving likes, it helps me to know i’m doing ok. Ok here we go.  Btw GIF’s are not mine thank you for those who create them. 

Warnings: None really other than Jensen being cute and adorable. 

The more I stood there, the more shocked I became. ‘Why is he here? He only met Jeff at the airport earlier. Did he follow us home? Questions after questions ran thru my mind as to why he was here, I managed to get the nerves up to go over to him to ask as he hasn’t seen me yet. But just as I did Jo came over to me and grabbed my wrist to drag me to him.

“{Y/N} meet Jensen, Jensen meet Y/N}. She’s my best friend for over wow nearly 15 years you two talk and get to know each other I’ll be back to check on you two later.” She winked at me, then took off to see to another guest.

I smiled up at him, “Three times in one day, a girl could get used to this.” I leaned against the outdoor bar next to him.

His hand slightly brushed against mine as we stood side by side looking out at a small herd of goats jumping on and off a couple of large landscape rocks. “Then it must be true what they say.”

“What’s that?”

He turned toward me slightly with our foreheads nearly touching, “Meeting you this morning was like listening to a song for the first time, and I knew it would be my favorite.” Our noses brushed against each other before he pulled away. I felt Jensen gazing down at me as if he was drinking me in every inch of me, I didn’t dare look up at him.

I don’t know if it was my facial expression that gave it away but I swear i must have been blushing from the inside out, I hesitantly looked up at him. ‘Is this for real? Is he for real?’ I swallow a nervous lump that formed in my throat, I really couldn’t speak. What happened next was a total blur, but oh my god.

He took his right hand and cupped the back of my head, then pulled me closer to him with his left hand going around my waist. His lips brushed against mine, my eyes closed and I opened my mouth for his tongue to explore. The feeling was like electricity flowing thru me, the fingers on his right hand griped my hair not too roughly, but enough to make certain he had no intention of letting me go. My knees were going weak and I clung to him as my life depended on it. My arms made their way around his shoulders as my fingers played with the short hair at the base of his neck, he moaned as the kiss progressed. He is 6’2’, I’m 5’3’ I had to stand on my tip toes a bit to get the full effects of that kiss. My heart was beating uncontrollably, because it knew this time was completely real and we were both grounded, which meant that it was even more awesome than the other two before even if one of them was a dream. This totally beats the dream one.

“Uh Hum, sucking each other’s lungs out I see?”  She had her arms crossed on her chest when we broke free from each other laughing.

“Well, you did say get to know each other.” I sarcastically told her as I had leaned against Jensen’s chest while he held me.

“You, are in so much trouble. You didn’t tell me you knew him already, I heard it from Jeff.” You could tell she wanted to be upset about it but it wasn’t working.

“I could ask you the same question, how do you know Jensen?” I looked at her with a quizzical expression.

She pursed her lips together and knew that was a loaded question especially, after she looked up at Jensen. He shook his head nervously praying she didn’t give his job description away. “He’s actually a storm chaser friend from Kansas, we were actually living in the same town,when I moved here we met up again and I found out he lives here too. We go way back.” She winked at Jensen which I did not see because I had turned up to look at him.

“Really? You’re a storm chaser too?”

“Guilty, I was. I am now more of a freelance journalist with some photography on the side when it calls for it.”

I quickly smiled at him, as I thought that was pretty cool job, I always thought photography was amazing, just it wasn’t for me, and I’m not very good with electronic stuff. “So those reports that you were so heavily into on the plane today were just reports you had to read for an article your writing?”

He leans his elbows back on the bar behind him and crossed his ankles, “Hmm, yes, they are. I’m writing an investigative article for a friend about business conduct in advertising. I’ve been meeting with companies to gain more insight, I got lucky with one company that granted me access to some of their files.” The words just fell off his tongue so easily.

Honestly, Jensen was helping a friend trying to save his company from two other people who are desperately doing their best to ruin what he built. He didn’t want his actual job description released to {Y/N} yet, because Bobby Singer is a really good friend. He just had to play it by ear and see how it goes for now. He knew that right now wasn’t a great time to tell her what he actually done for a living, because he knew it would make things way more complicated than they already were.

“Wow, you’re work is really interesting . This must be very important to you, to do that.”

“It is, it’s not just a job for me,actually it’s more of a passion when I think about it.” He took a sip of his beer.

“So, this is what you call coincidences. What’s the odds of you meeting my buddy Jensen this morning and finding him here tonight?” Jo said nonchalantly.

“He helped me on the plane too, so you should be thanking him for saving your best friend’s life. Otherwise, I could have died.”

“What happened? Do tell. Do tell.” She waited impatiently with her hands in her pocket.

I gave her the whole story of my day, from how Kali pissed me off by getting the job that I should have gotten, to the chance meeting at Starbucks and him giving me his shirt;  all the way down to the panic attack and now. How sweet he was and had been, it’s just like I’m in a dream or something.

“Wow, Jensen Ackles” she hugged him. “Thank you for being a prince and saving her life, now continue where you left off and I’ll go check on others.” She patted his back shoulder as she gave him the go ahead to pick up where we left off before she had  interrupted us. I just had to giggle.

“Ackles huh?” I smiled. “I like.” I curled up to him into his chest the best I could.

“That’s my last name, what’s yours?” his left hand rubbed my back.

“{Y/L/N}, it means that I am a fighter, strong believer, and not afraid to back down on anything that came my way.” I shrugged my shoulders a bit from the cool breeze that is now making itself known.

He pulled me closer to him till my chest was against his, and ever so often rubbing his hand up and down my back to keep me warm, I mean geeze I did have a bathing suit on that I was hoping to get into the hot tub and relax before bed, but as luck would have it, I got very highly distracted. Gotta Love Texas!

@writersaredreamers    @nanie5  @laqueus-ludovicus  @theshygirlao3  @secretlyfurrydragon  @secretimpala67

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[dcbicki]

I will never understand people who claim to like Elizabeth Swan, and then, the moment she puts on a pretty dress, they declare her character ruined. Is her value based on her clothes? My personal favourite is Will, and especially CotFD!Will. But still, if the curse was broken and he spent the rest of his days playing with his grandchildren, I would not declare his character Ruined Forever. Elizabeth has earned her pretty dresses.Will has earned a peaceful life with his family. (1/2)

(2/2) Elizabeth’s kickassery is part of her character, not something that she loses or gains based on whether she wears pirate garb or not. I guess that’s one of the reasons I like Willabeth. Will knew she could kick ass with the best of them when she was still “Miss Swan” to him. He didn’t started treating her as an equal only after she ditched the dresses, because he loves her for who she is, not for her clothes. (Btw your gifedits are gorgeous, 10/10, could stare at them all day)

This is gonna be an essay.

I entirely agree with your thinking.

Will has been and will always be my favourite, but Elizabeth is a close fucking second. And, yes, I’d be just as glad to watch them have another last-minute child, or play with potential grandchildren via Henry, because you know what? They deserve to actually live comfortably and happily. They deserve nice things, and they’ve more than paid the price for such luxuries. Elizabeth lost her father, lost her standing as the Governor’s daughter (whether she wanted it or not). Will literally died, and since getting married, they’ve spent a grand total of approximately 50 hours together (2 x 48hrs + whatever time it took to find the fucking island they banged on in the first place and settle all accounts).

They both went through hell and back, and I’ve personally never believed their goal, their personal endgame was to become pirates. That’s just what happened, via circumstance and, well, destiny.) I mean, Will was pretty resolute on the whole “I practice three hours a day so when I meet a pirate I can kill it!” thing. And young Elizabeth’s “I think it’d be rather exciting to meet a pirate.” dream never screamed “She wants to ditch the skirts and go pirating!” to me. It just didn’t.

She wanted adventure, she wanted romance, she wanted to meet exciting people. She got all of this, and even more than she bargained for. You’ll go on crusades and dip your toe in the seas of piracy, but your father will pay the price. You’ll get your love, but he’s gonna die and basically be kept from you for all of eternity. You’ll meet those pirates you dreamed of so often and you’ll even become their King, but there is a cost.

None of this seems to have anything to do with the whole “Why is she wearing a corseted dress? Bullshit!” discourse this site’s been babbling on about for some days now. But it’s relevant anyway because, hey, Elizabeth’s value as a character does not depend on whether she dresses more feminine or masculine. It’s a part of her arc, yes (there’s no denying that). But you know what (or rather who) else is a key factor in her endgame? William.

One minute into Curse of the Black Pearl, and a young Lizzie is caught singing a pirate song she shouldn’t even know the words to. Three minutes into Curse of the Black Pearl, and a young Lizzie is staring down at a young Will Turner, and we know where this is going, we know where this is going to end up. She eyes his medallion in curiosity, and then she steals it to protect him, to save him.

Elizabeth’s arc was about Will, and about them as a pair. And I’m not being being anti-feminist when I say this, far from it. On a first watch, you’re assuming she’s some kind of damsel in semi-distress and he’s the handsome makeshift knight who’s gonna go through hell and back to save her. Nope. Think again. Dead Man’s Chest? Oh, they’re arrested and she’s held prisoner and Will is gonna find the compass that frees her so they can live happily ever after. Nope. Think again. Elizabeth is gonna stow her savvy ass away on a merchant’s ship, disguise herself and go after him and the compass herself.

I think a good portion of those unhappy with her look in that one second, blink-and-you-miss-it clip from the trailer have this cemented in their brains.

I understand why. That dress looked painful af, and it damn near killed her. But that doesn’t mean she’s sworn off wearing dresses. She was brought up wearing gowns and jewellery, given nice things all her life. She gets taken as a hostage, swaps out one puffy dress for a pair of trousers and a jacket (above). But upon returning to Port Royal, she’s back in a dress; only it’s a little less constricting.

You know why? Yes, she’s still the Governor’s daughter and still has to present herself a certain way. But, she’s also a woman who likes pretty things, and pretty dresses.

Granted, that particular dress got soaked and ripped and left to rot at the bottom of the sea because it was suffocating her. But it’s still fancy, and elegant, and she’s a big fucking fan of its look.

So, upon returning from her early introduction to piracy, she’s back in dresses. (Note this one that looks eerily similar to the one spotted in the latest DMTNT trailer. More on that later…).

Ah, the wedding. Corset-hating Elizabeth is back in a gloriously feminine dress. She looks beautiful. She’d be fucking radiant if they hadn’t arrested her groom. Oh, and then they arrest her too and throw her in a cell while he’s sent off on some kind of rescue mission. Does she stay there though? No. She holds his douche at gunpoint and puts her own save-Will plan into action.

You know what’s not a problem here? The dress. She’s angry heroine in a big wedding dress, and it’s amazing. And it only becomes an obstacle when her one way off the island is through an exclusively male merchant’s ship, and bartering her way onto the ship in such a dress would never work. She needs masculine clothing to hide her femininity, to fit in, to move with ease aboard a busy ship and among its sailors. I somehow don’t think balling up to Tortuga like this in her wedding gown would have quite worked out?

Why is she there? It’s not because her desire to engage in piracy is so strong that she just couldn’t help herself. It’s not because she wants the pirates’ life, good and true. She wants Will. She’s adapting to fit the environment, but her goal is still the same. Her feelings in DMC become a little uncertain at a point or two, but her biggest priority has always been to find Will and grant them both freedom.

I don’t believe it’s for nothing that the shot of her wedding gown lost at sea transitioned into her looking all gloomy aboard the Pearl. It’s not a “See? Her dress was just holding her back from what she really wanted! Piracy!” sort of shot, imo. It’s a “The lengths she is going to are fucking strenuous.” to me, because oh, guess what they follow it up with?

Lizzie wants to be wedded and bedded, living her life somewhere safe from the East India. Lizzie wants to have been wedded in her wedding dress, and bedded by her damsel of a groom. Lizzie is engaging in piracy for the short term, because it’s the only option left for her, for them. Will is the one who needs saving, to her. If her sacrificing Jack to save them both didn’t spell that out for you, then I’m not sure what will. If her guilt at sacrificing Jack to save them both didn’t spell out that she is only human to you, then I don’t know what will. Yes, she’s a pirate. She’s ruthless. But her intent at the start was never to become a full-fledged pirate.

First she holds a man at gun point, and then she holds a different man at knife point. Elizabeth is ruthless, determined. But the way I see it is this: more people would view this scene as her being a badass pirate rather than the one above (gun). Why? The scowl is the same. It’s only the outfit and weapon that are different. And there is nothing entirely feminine about a pistol, so the choice of weapon isn’t what bridges the divide. It’s the outfit. Because this is dark and genderless, more masculine than it is feminine, and less sexualized. (She suffers tremendous amounts of female sexualization throughout the movies but that’s a whole other post). And she’s hiding half a dozen weapons beneath her clothes, so this obviously means the dress-loving Lizzie of past movies is well and truly gone. Nope.

I keep seeing posts like “She’s the Pirate King! Why isn’t she wearing some kickass pirate gear and wielding swords?” Interesting. You do realise this was battle-wear, don’t you? She kicked off a war and fought her way through it wearing this ensemble. Note: that belt always seemed much too tight and constricting to me, almost like a corset but *cough* moving along…

What lies underneath is a whole other story, though.

The rest of her armor is nowhere in sight and I’m willing to bet this wasn’t without its intentions. Now a wife, Elizabeth is only seen in the dress that hung beneath her Pirate King! battle clothing. She’s sexualized (again, because this is basically her underclothes), but she’s meant to have just been having sex and deep levels of intimacy for hours so it’s understandable. She’s no longer waging a war, she’s no longer in need of protection in form of clothing because she’s vulnerable.

That which she fought so long and so hard for has just been afforded to her, in a cruel way. She has Will, and she doesn’t exactly get the happy ending she longed for. And I personally don’t believe that because the last shot of her in the film is stood alone on a beach with a rowboat and a chest means she was left there for ten years. Woman is hardcore, and when she wants something, she works for it. (Case in point, this entire post).

The next time we see her, she’s wearing something less combatant and a little more feminine. Understandable given she has a nine year old son and responsibilities, and from what we now know he’s been brought up so fucking well.

Perhaps she engaged in a few more small wars. Perhaps she sent many a dead pirate down to her husband’s awaiting ferrying hands. Perhaps she didn’t do any of this because it may never have been her desire in the first place. But her son is well-educated and well-read, and living with the idea that her character has been thrown to the wolves because she maybe chose to be a stable mother rather than a pirate in danger of extinction is ludicrous.

I think many of you are forgetting she’s around the age of 40-42 by now, and she’s probably nicely settled into society. We don’t know much about what she’s been up to, or what she’s been doing. And we aren’t going to. This is most, likely, it for her.

And complaining because she’s wearing a dress that looks moderately corseted and heavily similar to that which she wore back in Curse of the Black Pearl is just mindless. Doesn’t she deserve nice things? Doesn’t she deserve to finally be happy and comfortable, and live freely but elegantly.

Note: Her role now is essentially to reunite with Will for once and for all (depending on the franchise’s future), and to tie in the loose ends of their storyline. This new scene is going to rewrite over anything the previous writers’ sold the fandom (that after ten years, he’s free.). But I for one am here for it, because as much as I loved the parts of her storyline that involved her slashing people with a sword that looked much too heavy for her to handle or putting assholes back into place, I equally loved the parts that revolved around her love story, that revolved around hers and Will’s fate.

Besides, if you hadn’t seen the love of your life in ten years, wouldn’t you want to look glorious af for the occasion?

All this to say, the dress is gonna make the scene far more beautiful and reminiscent of the first movies… so shut the fuck up.

[grantplant]

They All Saw a Cat

Last week, I was innocently skimming through Emily Nussbaum’s New Yorker commentary on the Girls series finale. I stopped watching this show a while ago—I liked it, and much of the material in early seasons resonated with me, but to a point. That point, or points, were Adam, the whiplashiest character I’ve ever hate-love-hated, forcing himself on his girlfriend and then Hannah repeatedly assaulting her ear with a q-tip. But I digress. I’ve followed the cultural zeitgeist of the show and Lena Dunham herself, and I like Emily Nussbaum, so I read the review. (You can, too.)

Somewhere in the middle of the piece, in a parenthetical no less, Nussbaum asserts: (You can’t be a writer without being entitled: Why else would you think anyone wants to listen to you?)

Record scratch. Oh, god. Is that possibly possibly true? Or rather, are any of the components that make up this doozy of a declaration?  Because she’s saying 1) all writers are entitled, and 2) that the act of writing is synonymous with the belief that anyone wants to listen to us, and 3) that that unanimous and inherent entitlement is the reason why we believe that anyone wants to listen to us.

Before I put “Delete blog/set book(s) on fire” on my to-do list, I paused to think.

Couldn’t this (horrible! faulty!) logic be applied to anyone who ever created anything? A chef, or a painter, or, as my tech-minded husband said testily, “How about all the people in the world who feel sure that their app is the one that needs to be made?”

I admit, I spent five years of my life working at a nonprofit that encourages hundreds of thousands of people annually that they have a story (or perhaps dozens) to tell. This nonprofit has been likened more than once to a new breed of parent that believes and convinces their child that he or she is a special snowflake unlike any other, and is capable of—and dare I say it, entitled to--anything he or she sets his magical little mind to. (I am parent to a nine-month-old snowflake myself, and understand how terribly, seductively easy it is to adopt this mindset. No judgement here!)

I’m not now, nor was I ever, saying we’re all Pulitzer-quality yarn-spinners (Nussbaum actually is), but I genuinely do believe that we all have stories to tell that are unlike the stories that anyone else can tell. No one is exactly the same, and while that doesn’t imbue their differences with magic or the right to special treatment, it does add value to their perspective. This perspective allows each of us to experience, understand, live, and do everything differently from each other, and it also makes that uniqueness of experience unknowable to anyone else. That is, unless we decide to share it. And how do we share it, but by telling stories. That story could be painted, plated, coded, thrown on a wheel and fired in a kiln, or knit from dog hair into a dog sweater. Making something out of nothing is telling a story of some kind.

This storytelling isn’t new, btw. We are not talking about a tool for millennials to message each other disappearing videos, or broadcast their every location or opinion or achievement to the masses. People have been telling stories from the very beginning, with words and hieroglyphs and inventions and yes, novels and essays and, now, blogs and critiques and columns.

I am tickled by the thought that anyone ever looked at a cave painting drawn by one of our earliest ancestors and thought, “That entitled sonofabitch.” Maybe they did! Totally their right to feel that way, too.

As part of this snowflake-producing creative writing nonprofit, NaNoWriMo utilized the horrible, useful, sometime hilarious millennial tool for storytelling (and searching and archiving), the hashtag, specifically for a campaign called  #whyIwrite (about, you guessed it, why you/I/anyone writes). I did a quick search (thanks, hashtags!) and not a single person wrote “Because I am entitled.” (But then who, other than Emily Nussbaum, is that self-aware? I’m looking at you, caveman.) My quick-search also turned up what I and my cohorts had to say on the subject back in 2011.

“I write because so many things are better read than said. Misunderstandings are too easy in spoken communication; we talk so much and so fast and with so many interruptions! Writing is a haven where I may sit with a concept, clarifying here and editing there, until I can stand back and say, “Here. This is exactly what I mean.””

Reading this makes me realize, I guess, that I’ve gone and made a leap of my own. I am operating on the (possibly gross/horrible/faulty) logic that to write is to tell a story of some kind. And while my above answer does address why I *write* my stories instead of, for example, saying them out loud or painting them (can’t) or cooking them (sometimes I do that, too), or coding them (nope), it doesn’t ask or address exactly why I tell stories (aka create anything, written or otherwise) in the first place.

We’ll get to that in a sec, though.

Do you remember the study showing that by reading literary fiction, we humans’ emotional sensitivity is improved? The NYTimes characterized the findings thusly:

“…after reading literary fiction, as opposed to popular fiction or serious nonfiction, people performed better on tests measuring empathy, social perception and emotional intelligence — skills that come in especially handy when you are trying to read someone’s body language or gauge what they might be thinking.”

I don’t know what middling impact or nonimpact my nonserious nonfiction (as opposed to its serious counterparts, or literary or popular fiction) might have or not have but… this is #whyitellstories. My stories happen to be true stories, and they’re not always mine, and so I have no idea if any of it increases or promotes understanding in this often baffling and misunderstood world. If not this way, though, how else will we gain any insight into what’s happening elsewhere to other people of other belief systems and capabilities and ethnicities and everything else that makes up our own snowflakey identities?

I’m not writing to be read, or telling stories to be heard or listened to. The writing-down part is ultimately a selfish act; a putting together of disparate pieces to make something comprehensible in times of confusion. I am using the written word to make sense of, well, everything. So why do I share it? Why tell the story instead of logging it away, sussed but otherwise unconsumed? In the hopes that maybe I’m not alone in my wonderings or bafflement. That anyone else who ever felt confused or amazed or humbled or edified might see the way it happened over here, through this lens of experience, and might think that even though it was different for them, maybe it was also the same.

Even though I think hope Emily Nussbaum is wrong, there’s more than enough room for her opinion and perspective and… were we to meet over a Cinnabon or a tub of hummus, she may come to believe I am the wrong one, indeed the most entitled nonserious-nonfiction writer she ever did meet. We’re probably both right. And wrong. And there is plenty of room for both versions or some combination therein.

As I am often guilty of doing, because I ultimately believe that all of life can be explained by children’s books (which further reinforces my view on the value of storytellers, I guess) I will bring this back to a book that we, the Grant-Bowens, have been reading a lot. They All Saw A Cat is about a cat, as seen by a child, a dog, a flea, a bird, and a bat, among other animals, until, in the end, it sees itself. Each creature sees this cat differently, based on its size, perception, biology, and biases. The way the cat sees itself is the only way it could ever perceive itself in the world, unless that child, dog, flea, bird, bat, and anything else so inclined, shares the way *it* sees the cat. This not only changes the way the cat sees itself, but also the cat’s understanding of the way a child, dog, flea, bird, and bat sees things, too.

I used to think this should be required reading for all nonfiction writers, and then expanded it to all writers, period. Increasingly, I’m thinking it goes on the syllabus for life.

We all see the cat. But how do we see it? And more importantly, why do we see it as we do? If no one else pipes up to answer the question, we will only ever see it one way—our own way--and worse, never realize that there are other ways; ways we can’t even imagine.And they are all weird and surprising and beautiful, and they are all true.

The entitlement of the writer, or the solipsism a writer-free world. I know which I fear more. And so I hit ‘publish.’ Emily, send me your address and I’ll send you a book. It’s about a cat.

[royallydancer]

I just cannot get myself to watch the last episodes of Victoria

I really never enjoyed all that downstairs stuff. I’m sorry, I’m watching this to get somewhat of a representation of what Victoria’s earlier years looked like, I really don’t care about a made-up dresser and her exhausting romance with the chef. A country home early 20th century isn’t the same as Buckingham palace. ITV really needs to understand that what worked for Downton Abbey, may not actually work for a historical drama based on true events about a head of state. 

Speaking of that head of state, Victoria is white-washed and far too beautiful (sorry not sorry). Jenna Coleman doesn’t have the power to give me an annoying Victoria that still manages to be fascinating. She’s just annoying. She’s too cute, too sweet, too innocent, pretty dumb. That storyline of her dreaming of a life in the country? lol yeah no. Her and Albert pretending to be simple peasants? Stop, my eyes. Victoria was really, most of the time, a selfish as fuck human being who couldn’t look at her infant children cause she thought they were so ugly. why don’t I get to see that? I have not seen one total anger attack, why isn’t Victoria screaming? Why isn’t she losing her shit? The real Victoria had about one outbreak of total anxious fury every day. Where are the flaws? her disdain for her own babies is turned into excuses such as ‘she’s afraid to die in childbirth’, ‘she suffers post partum’, ‘she has trouble bonding with the baby’... ?? Victoria had nine children, with each one of those she preferred not to be in their company during these first two years. Victoria having breakfast with baby Vicky in her lap? lol c’mon. And that business with her glamour ball. ‘Yes but her majesty meant it well :)’ Ugh, barf. 

Albert and his fake German accent are cringy, I can’t stand to listen to his voice... how much is it gonna cost me to actually get a German actor to play Albert for once? I promise there are Germans out there who are better at English than some English. It’ll make these three sentences of German that they forced the poor lad to speak also a lot more convincing. That bullshit of Albert actually being King Leopold’s son was horrible. Do they really expect me to believe that Albert could’ve confessed his bastardy to a queen Victoria and all she would’ve done was smile and give a cringy ‘But I know who you are Albert’ speech?

Which brings me to uncle Leopold... why is his only redeeming quality the fact that he tries to get all his youngster relatives married? Would have been nice for this shit show to acknowledge that the guy saw an entire country and it’s population as his own personal property and killed millions of people. I hate it, because once I found out Jennings had been cast I got so excited! Which again brings me to my next point... What the fuck they did to Lord Melbourne’s character. Everyone just loves him so much, and omg he’s so charming... He was a shitty politician, prime minister and overall human being. He did about zero to end the workhouses, didn’t want to help orphanages because it might promote prostitution, had no interest in fighting poverty diseases such as Cholera... has no one ever heard of the plain and simple fact that this dude kept defending slavery as a necessary part of trade and economy? Clever how they only really brought up the issue of slavery once Lord M ‘died’. I see what they tried to hide there. But heck, he’s so charming, isn’t he? Bye. 

I guess the costumes are very nice. Is Nancy taking caring of the clothes of this monarch all by herself, btw? And she’s also doing Victoria’s hair? I think they don’t want me to ask such questions. There’s Diana Riggs to give this failed Downton Abbey do-over a do-over Dowager-Countess mixed with Olenna Tyrell. but really, it just makes Victoria’s household even less realistic. Why is Lehzen still around? Oh right, because she’s necessary to keep the downstairs monstrosity going. 

Everything moves so slowly and is just so crazy boring that I can’t actually see them cause my eyes are slowly closing. If they’d actually put in some effort to make the characters more true to the actual human beings, they would’ve had so many interesting stories to tell, so much greyness to jump into. But no. The had to add a downstairs and make everyone upstairs either white or black.

 I swear to God, if I have to watch one more scene of Victoria and Albert in bed, declaring their eternal love for each other, Jenna Coleman with her swoony annoying voice and that Albert guy with his fake German accent that makes it sound like he can’t breathe properly... I can’t.