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allislove111 · 2 years

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I swear I’m reaching for things here… but hear me out. People may have already posted this but I need to get this off my chest. I agree it felt like a sham and poorly written interactions with Byler. It breaks my heart for Will….I do, however, feel like there is still a glimmer of hope for them to be endgame. I noticed several things in various scenes in the last episode that could be considered “reaching”, but I wanted to lay them out here anyway. And there could be more!

1. In a scene with Jopper (I think it’s the one where they’re trying to get the helicopter up and running) there are boxes with blue tape with the print of “MW” and “705” on it. Jopper is endgame… so Mike and Will (7) will be endgame in season (05).

2. Outside the gas station with Cali crew: Eleven views a “scenic route ahead” sign of a family and I get the feeling that she wants a mom and dad more then anything. She’s never experienced this and you can see how she’s wanting this (and remembers her mom) I saw a couple Pepsi references in her scenes (blue, red, white) and in a scene with Jopper (they are wearing blue, red and white coats).

3. Next to that sign is another sign that looks like a (yellow) Coat of Arms with the initials WB and under that- what resembles a stage coach/wooden slats.. it’s dark so not too clear (vaguely reminds me of Castle Byers) with a bear on top.

4. Gas station scene, when El is drawing her plan to help Max on the van window: she draws a happy smiling Max (long hair) with herself and Vecna (no hair/short hair) stemming from Max’s mind. When she turns around to face the group, the shot is perfectly centered with the smiling girl on the back of El’s head, and the other 2 stick figures over Mike and Will. I get the feeling here that El will be happy and support Mike and Will’s relationship in the future. Because again, I believe El really wants a family and a home with Jopper, and to continue finding herself..

5. In the pizza parlor scene, Mike makes El glasses for the sensory deprivation tank. The numbers on it clearly say “775-38”, which again, 7 (Mike) 7 (will) season 5 (5) and 38 (11). Could’ve been any other numbers they used to display, but they chose these. Symbolically, I think this means El will support Mike and Will’s impending relationship in season 5. I think she wants herself and everyone to stop lying to each other and themselves and be authentically happy. Also when Argyle brings out the pineapple pizza and Mike is repulsed but he and El tell Mike “try before you deny”… I think he is still in denial with his feelings/who he is, but will soon be made to “see” represented by the glasses and what’s to come. *In ep5 Mike finds the number in the pen and the piece of paper has Argyle’s rainbow socks in the middle of Mike’s hands (when Mike unfolds it to see)… like the rainbow is right in front of his face and he can’t see it.. Will then sings “Turn Around, look at what you see…” and Mike turns away not looking at him because he’s refusing to see.. something is going to happen in S5 that makes Mike come out of his shell and finally see/acknowledge his feelings for Will or at the very least, who he is as a person. (Even though now he may be more attuned to Will’s feelings since the painting)

6. The emotional scene where Mike tells El he loves her is hard to interpret. But I feel it bears further scrutinization because there is more that we as an audience need to understand. I agree with others that he was prompted to tell her this because Will put pressure on the moment and reminded Mike that he is “the heart” of the party. I think Will means Mike is his heart. In the emotional Byler van scene, Will was clearly referring to himself using El as the reason for his words. Will’s monologue about El= himself. Back to Mike: with Will referencing “you’re the heart” and Mike realizing what he has to do to save El, he found the words to say “I love you” *because* of Will. He was encouraged so much by him that he found strength to get any feeling/words out at all. However, to reiterate, I feel like this is somewhat of a parallel to the van scene….and Mike’s monologue about El= his feelings about Will. Mike and Will were both really emotional in their individual scenes. **If Will’s El speech was about himself, it makes me think Mike’s El speech was about Will.** He found the strength to say what he said *because* of Will. I think his speech intertwined parts of meeting Will and El and Mike still “has his eyes closed” (represented by El) to the fact that he’s not “seeing” what’s right there all along: Will. Mike loves and cares about El but he also loves Will and always has; he just needs to open his eyes to see it (embrace and accept it). He was saying what he needed to say in that moment of desperation to help save the party; ie Max, El..

** also want to mention the parallel with Robin and Vickie; the view of Robin, Vickie and her boyfriend in the store (with Robin looking at them/between them) parallels El, Mike and Will in the dessert (with Will looking at them/between them) in the background. Robin seems devastated that it’s never going to be, however at the end of ep 9 Vickie and Robin run into one another and find out Vickie and her boyfriend broke up and they (Robin and Vickie) appear to be flirting and setting themselves up for season 5. I honestly feel like Mike and Wills endgame will come out of nowhere- at least it’ll seem that way to a lot of people ;-). Mike is Vickie in this scenario (Vickie appears to be finally acknowledging herself and her feelings when she “sees” Robin)……… and Mike- will eventually see & will continue to be the heart of the party while actually following and defending his heart (Will) in s5.**

There are probably other points and scenes I’m missing, but from what I’ve read from others so far, I thought these would be interesting to add. If anything, at least for conversation. I still believe that S4 was a big reveal for Will (as much as the DB could muster) and season 5 will be Mike coming to terms with himself and finally being truthful with Will. I feel Eleven will be somewhat of a catalyst for Mike owning up to his truth and opening up to Will (pretty much how Will was the catalyst for Mike opening up to Eleven). She’s coming into her own self and so will he.

…otherwise, what is the point to *any* of the dropped hints and buildup over time of Mike and Will only to be shot down? Their story is just getting started ❤️

#byler #byler nation #byler better be canon #byler evidence #byler is real #mike wheeler #will byers #byler parallels #s4 spoilers

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romanoffsbish · 2 years

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Fearless

WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Carol Danvers x Fem!Reader

Sad Beautiful Tragic (MW x Taylor Swift Series)

Last Kiss (Previous/Connected piece)

18+ | Implied Smut |

Over a year later, and the way you view the world is astronomically different. Saying goodbye to Carol hurt, boy did it fucking hurt, but the final culmination of all that grief is honestly greater than your wildest dreams(😉).

————————————————————

There's somethin' bout the way

The street looks when it's just rained

There's a glow off the pavement

You walk me to the car, and you know I wanna ask you to dance right there

In the middle of the parking lot

Yeah, Oh, yeah.

————————————————————

The subtle drizzling of the rain down the car windows soothes you, as you catch sight of the city lights reflecting off of the raindrops. An abundance of warmth consumes you as your ears pick up on the faint snores coming from the beautiful Sokovian sleeping against you in the backseat. Inconspicuously, you peer up into the rear view mirror to catch a glimpse of the equally as beautiful Russian in the drivers seat.

Her hand was running through her hair, tousling the shaggy waves, and you were just lost in your head, imagining running your own hands through her hair. You imagine it must be soft with the amount of products that line their shower. Not to mention how long you've had to wait on her to get ready before. Completely lost in your thoughts you had missed the precise moment her eyes met yours. The subtle clearing of her throat pulled you back though, as she threw a wink your way, your eyes widened and you smiled sheepishly at the sight of being caught; judging by the crinkling around her eyes you can tell she was smirking.

A huff falls from your lips at her subtle teasing, while a light chuckle fills the otherwise silent car and she moves her eyes back to the road ahead while you shuffle that much closer to your personal heater in the back and close your eyes.

————————————————————

We're drivin' down the road

I wonder if you know

I'm tryin' so hard not to get caught up now, but you're just so cool.

Run your hands through your hair

Absent mindedly makin' me want you

————————————————————

Natasha drove another twenty miles before the highway eventually ended and she was instead cruising through a small town. Pouring rain had faded into a slight drizzle somewhere along the way, and since her eyes were beginning to droop she decided to roll the windows down.

The chill had seeped through the crack and made its way into the backseat where it eventually enveloped your entire body. Waking you with a shiver, and you peered down to see Wanda's completely unaffected form snoring. Leaving you to wonder how in the hell Natasha handles sleeping with the inferno that is Wanda Maximoff in the summertime.

"Natty..." You lowly whine, and Natasha curses under her breath before locking gazes with you.

Your face was blanketed with interrupted sleep, but your dopey smile helped to ease her guilt in the matter.

"Yes, sweet girl?" She quietly questioned.

"Pull over." You mumble, while gently guiding Wanda's body towards the door, and pulling her hood up so she was comfy.

"What?" She lightly laughs out, but out of curiosity she does exactly what you ask, pulling off the road, and parking besides a vast field.

She observed you get out, then rolled the passenger window down and you then peaked your head in with a smirk.

"Well, come on Natty..."

"Sweetheart, it's raining, and we still have another hour to go before we get you home. Maybe we should get back in the car, yeah?" Natasha exasperatedly states, once again doing as you said though, as she shuts her door and approaches you.

The team calling them whipped no longer seems like a myth...

Natasha decides it's best to just pipe down to see where it is you're taking this. Wanda and Natasha have come to learn that you're a wild card, and they honestly love every bit of it. They're Avengers, so they're no stranger to adventure, but their day to day life is honestly rather mundane. You've somehow reinvented the way they see the world though, having breathed new life into their very beings.

Turning on the balls of your feet you send a playful glare her way, she instantly jumps forward to catch you as the mud beneath your feet betrays you, and you squeal in surprise when the ground floods your sight.

"Falling for me are we?" She teases, and you groan playfully at her as she works to lift you upright.

"Only if you promise to always catch me if I fall.." You sweetly breathe out, and her playful smirk fades into a deep smile once she sees the hopeful glint in your eyes.

"We promise dorogoy.." Wanda's sleep laced voice cuts in as she wraps her arms around the both of you.

"Now, why are we standing in the rain?" She muses, as she pulls you from Nat, and burrows herself against your chest.

"Y/N —."

"Natty was getting sleepy, so I decided to trick her into walking around with me." You tattle, and the assassin glares your way.

"Nat, you could've asked me to take over." Wanda relays, followed by a yawn, and the both of you stare at her with amused eyes.

"You could've asked me...." You correct

"... but instead you chose to nearly freeze me to death..." You continue, and she scoffs.

"Says you who quite literally stepped out into the cold weather..."

"I put your hoodie on first, and I did it for you." You relay, with a deep pout forming.

"Hey, only I get to be annoyed here... My snuggle buddy completely abandoned me." Wanda groans against your chest, and you giggle at her whining.

"Let's go..." Natasha snaps, and your heart hurts at her sudden change in mood.

"Dance with me?" You suddenly ask, with your hand outstretched and she turns to you with furrowed brows.

Natasha instantly loses her edge when she sees the bit of sadness hiding beneath the immense bouts of hope swimming behind your (y/e/c) eyes. The last thing the retired assassin would ever want to do is make you sad, not when your smile is one of her favorite things to see.

"Come on, it'll be fun." You muse, and Wanda lifts her head to rest her chin on your chest before turning to Natasha with an insistent glare.

Natasha then takes your outstretched hand, and you instantly spin her into your bodies. Wanda huffs at the impact, and you giggle before peeling her from your body against her pitiful whines of resistance.

"You too..." You say, cutting her whines off before grabbing her hand to spin her around.

It's pitch black out, not many lights pollute the streets of this desolate town, so the stars are visible through the gaps in the storm clouds. All too suddenly the rain picks back up, and while the older women attempt to take cover in the car they take notice of how it only spurs on your excitement.

No music was needed to get your body swaying, and the barely there, dim reflection from the stars occasionally catches your bright smile. Wanda's unable to ignore your spirited ways, so she giddily joins you by wrapping her arms around you and swaying along with her head to your chest.

————————————————————

'Til we run out of road in this one horse town, I wanna stay right here in this passenger seat

You put your eyes on me, in this moment now capture it, remember it.

————

'Cause I don't know how it gets better than this

You take my hand and drag me head first—Fearless.

And I don't know why, but with you I'd dance in a storm..

In my best dress—Fearless

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"Vy oba sumasshedshiye, no ya vse ravno vas lyublyu." Natasha groans in Russian, making her way over to scoop the both of you up.

(You're both insane, but I love you anyways)

Having completely different plans, you somehow evade the assassins skillful grip. Swiftly running back to the car, shaking your drenched form like a dog in a pointless attempt to dry off before clambering into the driver's seat then promptly locking your door.

"Y/N, let me in..." Natasha grumbles, then you cheekily smile while pointing to the back, and holding up the keys you'd swiped from her.

Natasha eventually relents in an attempt to flee the downpour, quickly climbing into the backseat and sprawling out across the entirety of it. Wanda gently climbs into the passenger seat, and loosely interlocks her fingers with yours as you pull off the side of the road, and finish the journey back into upstate New York.

Natasha fell asleep rather quickly, after the entirety of your shenanigans coupled with her previous exhaustion. You couldn't help but smile knowing that she trusted you enough to fall asleep while you drove.

"Of course she trusts you..." Wanda sleepily murmurs, and squeezes your hand.

"Sorry dorogoy, when I'm tired my ability to filter out other's thoughts becomes near impossible." She squeaks apologetically and you squeeze her hand right back.

"No need to apologize Wands, it's no big deal."

"Well, we do trust you sweetheart, and we hope that you feel the same."

"Of course I do, how could I not? You guys have treated me so well, and have been incredibly patient with me along the way, and I couldn't have asked for anyone better to swoop my off my feet. I know I'm safe with you guys."

Wanda's eyes were closed, but her gentle kiss to your hand tells you that she heard you loud and clear.

—

Once you finally pull into the guest spot of your apartments, you notice the tiny clock read 12:00AM. Wanda and Natasha were peacefully sleeping, and if you'd just closed your eyes you know you'd be too. With great struggle you keep your eyes open, then gently stroke Wanda's cheek to wake her up.

Natasha's groans fill your ears, followed by the sounds of her cracking bones as she stretched herself out.

"Let her sleep..." Natasha slurs, and you turn to meet her sleepy gaze.

"Well, if she doesn't get to say goodbye to me that would be your funeral..." You giggle and the assassin nods in understanding, your words catching up with her exhausted mind, and so you return to waking the witch up.

Wanda's eyes eventually flutter open, slowly taking in her surroundings, then a prominent pout takes its place on her face.

"No... Don't leave." She nearly cries, tightening her grip on your hand and you sigh deeply, leaving them never gets easier, especially not when she stares at you with those teary eyes.

"Goose has already been alone all day Wands, if I don't get back soon he'll eat my TV again." You relay with a reminiscent scowl.

She reluctantly giggles at the image now firmly in her mind, but that doesn't change her seemingly permanent pout as it returns.

The women follow you up to your space, partly for your safety, but more so because neither is really ready to party from you just yet. Nervously you fidget with your hands, while doing your best to block Wanda from your thoughts that were racing. This was the third official date with the women since you'd decided to take a chance on love again.

Their patience with you this last year has known no bounds, and rightfully so, you certainly deserved the benefit of their patience. Doesn't mean you don't know how difficult it had been for them, with how much you can see the longing for more in their eyes when they looked your way. To be honest, your patience with yourself was running incredibly thin as well, when all you've wanted for months was to feel their lips on yours.

It's been over a year since you'd been laid too, as one night stands were not appealing after a five year long relationship. Thoughts and toys were no longer proving to be enough for you anymore, and having them so close all the time didn't make it easier.

"Detka, are you okay?" Natasha, ever the observer, asks as she watches your hands fiddle with your keys.

Once you open the door, you turn to face them but keep your eyes cast to the ground.

"I-I'm okay... Why wouldn't I be?" You nervously mumble, while scratching at the back of your neck with your keys.

Natasha smirks at the sudden shyness, picking up on your subtleties, and understanding that you're indeed flustered. In all her glory, she takes a slight step forward, curling her pointer finger around your jaw, and lifts your face to match hers.

"It's okay darling, you can trust us..." She husks, breaths fanning across your lips, and eyes locked with yours.

She could feel your jaw tense as you gulped, then once she saw your eyes drop to her lips then go back up to hers she took the small step forward. Her lips met yours in a soft manner, and her arm was quick to wrap around your lower back once you'd melted against her.

Natasha smirked into the kiss once she felt your lips parting without request to give her access. Experimentally, she slid her tongue across yours, briefly swirling it around, before immediately pulling a whine of frustration from you once she removed it. Wanda's pitiful whines reminded the both of you to her presence, and Natasha reluctantly pulled away with your lip caught between her teeth before releasing it with a pop.

Your entire body was on fire from the previous engagement, so when Wanda suddenly pounced on you your mind was short circuiting, and you were just thankful that you'd still been able to catch her. Natasha honestly found your unexpected strength shocking as she stood their enjoying the view.

Wanda's legs were firmly wrapped around your waist, while her lips moved against yours roughly. Your hands were holding her close by her ass, so in the heat of the moment you'd firmly grasped her cheeks, and her lips stuttered against yours as she moaned into your mouth.

Natasha's sudden groan passed through your ears, and you gently placed Wanda down before removing your lips from hers. Wanda attempted to chase after you, but your hand on her chest stopped her from moving. Before her whine of disproval could pass her lips, your thumb had made its way into her mouth.

Natasha watched the encounter in amusement, as the 'oh so powerful' Wanda easily bends to your control. Then her blown out pupils met your mirroring lust filled orbs, and suddenly she'd accepted your extended hand.

————————————————————

Well you stood there with me in the doorway, my hands shake.

I'm not usually this way but you pull me in and I'm a little more brave

It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something, it's fearless

Oh, yeah

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They've been more than patient with you, as you've made sure to put in the work so that you would be stable enough for them. So, without a moment's hesitation, or a word spoken, you pulled the Natasha into your apartment, and allowed them the opportunity to love you fully.

Goose was quite intuitive, and made sure to hide away in the cabinet, but not before swallowing the remote to your TV as a sign of his disgruntled state.

——

Carol was blissfully sleeping when her phone dinged, she wiped away at the sleep in her eyes, lifting the arm belonging to a random Asgardian woman off of her abdomen, before getting up to grab her phone and slipping into the restroom.

The notification she received was familiar in sound, telling her that there was traffic outside your apartments door. She knew she shouldn't be keeping an eye on you, but she excused her behavior away as that of concern since it was late and you were 'helpless.'

Your door was wide open, so she could only see down the dimly lit hallways, she heard low voices, so to ensure your safety—of course, she changed to a vantage point from indoors instead. A wave of nausea suddenly rolled through her once she witnessed the discarding of your clothes, along with that of her fellow Avengers as they roamed the expanse of your body the same way she once did.

After a tortuous minute of footage she'd finally been able to tear her eyes away; promptly lifting the toilet seat to discard of her dinner. She slid down the wall of her current rooms bathroom, as tears ran down her face. Every night this week she's been with someone knew, which before you was the highlight of her life, but now it all just felt so hollow...

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2,800 Words

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ragnarssons · 4 years

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hey looking back now I've just realized that... wow raven never even CARED about clarke's feelings. she never came to her to be like "yea finn lied to you about being with someone like what a piece of trash r u ok?" even tho 1) raven was the oldest of the relationship 2) clarke shouldered all the guilt of fcking finn while he had a gf (finn was NOT held accountable for that by raven) 3) clarke literally had scenes comforting raven about this whole thing. finn broke clarke's heart, lied to her, used her, then went back to fcking raven 3 days later and NONE of these two bitches (raven or finn) cared about how clarke was feeling.

then comes s2, clarke has to KILL finn and raven hates her for it. but even when raven realizes that clarke "saved" finn from being tortured, she does NOT come clean to clarke herself. she does not care about what clarke had/has to suffer through because of what she had to do to a man they supposedly BOTH loved. again at no point raven comes and is like "i get it. can't forgive rn but i get it... are you okay?" nop it's again, clarke who feels sorry for raven, clarke who shoulders the guilt and pain (and lxa coats all their scenes with a good guilt trip moment which is nOICE) and remains ALONE with what she had to do.

on s3, raven amongst all the others (except bellamy since he does say to clarke that she did not take the decision of irridiating mw on her own) NEVER acknowledges her role in irridiating mw. raven yknow who got the bone marrow drilled out from her, never stood by clarke's decision even tho it literally saved her life.

on s4 like?? it just gets more twisted with snarky remarks against clarke "ur the one who chooses who lives and who dies". raven PUSHES clarke to write the list and when the others discover the list wELP raven is nowhere to be found to share the blame or shed some scientific calculus knowledge she's been shedding all over the place ever since the beginning of the season. "ur dad would be sO PROUD" cuz clarke lied to the ppl like lmao 3 seasons later raven literally did the exact same thing okok.

do we HAVE to talk about the trainwreck that are s5 and s6? again out of all this prECIOUS spacekru, only bellamy ever try to see how clarke feels about all the years she spent alone. only BELLAMY says "YOU SAVED US ALL". raven, who yet was all wheepy at the window with bellamy at the end of s4, NEVER stopped to think about clarke or how she felt, or what she had to do to survive. clarke literally ON TOP OF THAT becomes her punching ball. AND HELLO CAN WE TALK ONCE AGAIN ABOUT THEM USING MADI OVER AND OVER AGAIN??

so yeah, a scene where CLARKE comforts raven on s7 isn't gonna cut it to me. because on top of it all, what raven said on this scene is NOWHERE near compassion towards clarke. she literally said "homey teach me the way of not feeling guilty about what i did" AS IF CLARKE NEVER FELT GUILTY ABOUT THE THINGS SHE DID HELLOOOO? fuck that scene. there is no resolution. there is no change. clarke STILL IS the girl raven uses to her advantage, to vent in some ways and get rid of HER OWN feelings (here sadness... before it was anger like that's the only thing that changed). clarke still is the one making the move to comfort raven, and there is NOTHING coming from raven's side. give clarke better friends, ok you won, bring gaia back idk.

#the 100 wank #the 100 spoilers #anti raven

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years

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15x12: Galaxy Brain

Welcome back to the new recaps! We’ll be doing recaps on Thursdays now that the show airs on Mondays.

Then:

Remember when death was welcome and we had no hope?

Now:

Four Weeks Ago:

Earth 2

At an unassuming Radio Shed, a woman casually strolls around getting creeped on by the store clerk. He’s just an eager salesman, but dude…(Also, I’m a bad fan and had to Shazam the song playing. I thought it was quite on the nose with the whole “I had a dream that I ate your heart” considering Jack’s recent activities. It turns out to be Louden Swain, and all you real fans must have been dying laughing at how perfectly placed the song was.)

The dude is despondent when the woman leaves, but then a new customer arrives, eyeing up the wall of televisions. It’s Chuck. The guy gives his best spiel, but Chuck isn’t interested. “It’s monologue time,” he states.

Chuck explains his twisted life story.

And shows us the world:

Anybody else wish we would have had a glimpse of Squirrel World in these television sets? Well, Chuck waxes poetic about all the worlds he’s created and how none of them bring him as much happiness as the world with the real Sam and Dean. “They challenge me. They disappoint me. They surprise me. They’re the ones.” Chuck then decides that it’s time to clear the board and get rid of everything but the world with the real Sam and Dean (WEEPS OVER THE “FAILED SPIN-OFFS” LINE. BOBO WE’RE SO SORRY.)

Sioux Falls.

Our World.

Now.

We find Jody Mills having too much fun investigating the death of a cow. She gets a call from Alex and we learn that life keeps humming along for our Wayward women.

Once off the phone, Jody sees a flash of motion from a barn and heads to check it out. Someone attacks her from behind. JODY!

At the bunker, Sam, Dean, and Cas discuss what to do about Jack and his deal with Death. Sam’s concerned because Jack doesn’t have his soul still. We cut to Jack looking at the carvings of DW, SW, AND MW. He lightly grazes the MW. We know exactly where his soulless mind is.

He heads to his bedroom and he’s surprised when a reaper appears.

Sam continues to question the plan of Billie’s that Jack will kill God. Cas fully trusts his little nephilim son. Dean’s spent some time with Death and thinks she has it figured out.

The reaper tries to reassure Jack that Billie’s plan will work as long as he follows the rules --lay low, wait for instructions, don’t use his powers. They need to keep Chuck out of the loop.

Sam interrupts the conversation and Jack lies about who he was talking to. Sam tries reassuring Jack that they’re very happy to have him home and that they will help him.

Meanwhile, recently reunited husbands share a celebratory drink now that they’re family is back together. Cas can’t help but gloat over how right he was and celebrate his faith in Jack. Dean wants to celebrate getting revenge. I want to celebrate these two yahoos talking again!

Dean gets a call from Jody. She’s in trouble.

Sam and Dean head out and find Jody tied up in the barn. Dark Kaia attacks! She’s seriously badass, but no competition for the Winchesters + one Mills. She wants her spear back --and more to the point, she wants to go home. Sam wants to know why she even wants to go back to that place. She tells them the world is dying. She knows this because she still has a connection to our Kaia. YEP. Kaia is STILL ALIVE PEOPLE. Dark Kaia left her the tools to stay alive, and she has, but Dark Kaia wants to go back. And now the others want to save Kaia.

At the bunker, Cas and Jack bond over a fun game of Connect Four.

Sam, Dean, and Jody arrive back at the bunker --with Dark Kaia in tow.

*JODY AND CAS FINALLY MEET ALERT*

They all agree that Jack can’t use his powers to help Dark Kaia get home, but they have to save their Kaia another way.

While they figure that out, they chain Dark Kaia to the kitchen table and give her a magazine to read.

Jack thinks he’s found a great spell but John Winchester had to ruin everything and kill off one of the necessary ingredients. How that man is able to ruin things this far in the grave will never cease to amaze me. Dean sends Jack to check in on Jody and Cas.

Jody and Cas discuss their almost daughter, Claire, and her quest for revenge. Jody tells Cas that Claire loved Kaia, and Jody doesn’t want to tell Claire about this recent development. It would be too much for her to bear if things don’t work out.

 Jack morosely peeks in on the stalled progress of Jody and Cas, then stops to talk to Alt!Kaia. She’s angry, accusing him of encouraging Kaia to make the jump to the other world. It’s his fault that Kaia is in pain and about to die.

Alt!Kaia wanted to visit Earth Prime because it looked comfortable, but she finds it cold instead and hard to live in. She begs Jack for help in a way that makes you think she’s never begged for a thing in her entire life before. Jack dreamwalks with her and confirms that Kaia is trapped in the Bad Place and an all-swallowing storm is coming for her.

Jack heads into the library, advertising his intent to the Winchesters that he’ll save Kaia from the Bad Place. Merle, the reaper from earlier, appears. She is…ENTIRELY unimpressed by this plan. Saving Kaia is “Winchester dumb,” Merle insists.

If Jack tries to save Kaia, Merle is totally running off and tattling on him to Death. Jack reads the room and calls her bluff. “Go,” he tells her. He’ll open a rift with his magic and Merle can just DEAL with Billie’s wrath when she comes running. Merle’s not so hot on that prospect, instead reluctantly coughing up a plan B. The cosmic warding Amara removed from the bunkers is the key!

But FIRST our patron saint of long suffering salt, Merle, insults the Winchesters’ rune repair work. The Winchesters re-warded their walls against demons and monsters, but didn’t come close to the “cosmic grade stuff.”

She can rattle up the warding temporarily to block Chuck’s perception, but she’ll need to add a little battery power to the attempt. She demands the use of “your angel” to properly run the spell.

Sam, our very best witch, recites the spell. Runes glow along the bunker walls and edges as the shielding spell takes hold.

Heading out, the Winchesters agree that the plan is reckless, stupid…and it FEELS REALLY GOOD. They’re back to their roots, baby! Give me my dumb, poorly planned, big hearted missions any day.

Cas corners Jody, asking her to stay behind as well. He never bonded with Claire - and couldn’t given their history - but Jody did. He doesn’t want to picture a world where Claire loses both Kaia and Jody. The truth settles over Jody like a thick wool blanket and she agrees to stay behind.

For Soft Cas Science:

Cas and Merle supercharge the wardings.

Once the wardings are active, Jack slings out a rift to the Bad Place. Alt!Kaia smiles at last and ducks inside, quickly followed by the Winchesters. The Bad Place is rainy and windy and full of red-eyed monsters LOOK OUT!

Alt-Kaia realizes that the monsters are just scared of a roiling gray storm and they head off to find Kaia. Dean greets her with a “Hey, kid,” and a hug! KAIA IS SAVED!

Alt-Kaia, however, decides to stay behind. The Bad Place is her home, its ending be damned. The Winchesters race off with Kaia and Alt!Kaia greet the oncoming nothingness with open arms.

They make it back through the rift and Jody gives Kaia a great big MOM HUG. Kaia’s eyes slip closed. She’s safe at last.

A little while later, Kaia has availed herself of the bunker’s excellent water pressure or possibly even that amazing bathtub. She’s now wearing Jack’s spare sweatpants. Bless.

She tells Jack that she survived by anchoring herself around a children’s rhyme her mother sang to her: Miss Mary Mack. Jack attempts to grasp another tiny sliver of humanity. Good luck, Jack. Many of us work on that to this very day!

Jody invites Kaia to live with her. “Will Claire be there?” Kaia asks and it’s…REAL CUTE GUYS. Wayward Sisters lives on, even if it’s off screen. ALL THE HEARTS

Merle dumps a big soaked blanket over the celebration. “If I cared for a second about saving that girl, I guess I’d say that was a victory,” she says with a weary sigh. I love this GRIM reaper. Sadly, she’s not long for this world. Billie’s scythe jabs through Merle’s throat and tears her into little cosmic pieces.

Billie CANNOT BELIEVE these Winchesters. “Bending the rules already, Jack.”

“I tried to call you,” Jack all but squeaks out.

No excuse, bud. She’s not mad, she’s disappointed. Billie explains that she sees the big picture, even if nobody else does. All the worlds except this one are dying.

“It’s Chuck,” Cas surmises, and Billie rewards him with a no-shit-sherlock look for the ages.

Sam demands answers. “When I became Death,” Billie says, “I inherited Death’s knowledge and Death’s library. And in Death’s library, everyone has a book. Even God.” The books write themselves, in a wonderful bit of LIFE HAPPENS. Billie explains. “After God made the world…he wanted more. But he needed to create a perfect harmony. A swiss watch so this world could keep tick tick ticking in his absence.” Chuck built himself into the framework of reality. The Winchesters and Jack are in Chuck’s book. “This is your destiny. You are the messengers of God’s destruction.”

Back at Radio Shed, Chuck watches his worlds get torn to shreds by horrible weather events and war. The hapless Radio Shed employee Chuck chained to his service looks exhausted, worn to shreds from serving the capricious god. (Definitely no symbolism HERE, nope.) He’s confident that Chuck will spare his planet. Right? RIGHT?

“Everything’s just fine,” Chuck reassures him before leaving the Radio Shed. As he strolls from the shop, he tosses his empty cup aside as meteors streak in to destroy the planet.

That’s Win-Quotester Dumb:

It’s monologue time

Sir, this is a Radio Shed

You’ve got four of the same color connected so…given the name of the game I assume that means you won

One little measly life on the line and you’re willing to risk it all? That’s not just dumb. That’s Winchester dumb

Disobeying cosmic entities…doing the dumb, right thing…feels like we’re back

How’s it feel to be back? [silence] Good talk

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn 15x12 #galaxy brain #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #cas #jack kline #billie #chuck shurley #kaia nieves #jody mills #supernatural season 15

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simplyshelbs16xoxo · 4 years

Text

‘The One Where Everybody Finds Out’ SAW 2020 Day 2

This is based off the Friends episode of the same name. This is kinda OOC, but I feel it is still enjoyable regardless. Take it as a crack!fic if you must!

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

It was only a murder-suicide. There was no need for consultation, thank God. Sally Donovan watched as Anderson finished taking note of his findings. She walked towards the window overlooking Baker Street. The flat they were called to was right across from 221B, and she was surprised the freak hadn’t come rushing over to see what had happened. In the window of Sherlock’s flat, she could see him and Molly Hooper having what appeared to be an intense conversation.

Sally turned away for one moment, distracted by Anderson tripping over his own feet, and when she turned back toward the window, she saw Sherlock unbutton and toss away Molly’s blouse.

“I think we’re gonna need Sherlock after all,” Anderson remarked, approaching her. “There’s something sus—“ His eyes widened at the sight before him. “Sherlock and Molly! Sherlock and Molly!” He was pointing frantically toward the window. “I knew it!!”

“My eyes! I think I’m gonna be sick,” Sally added. To her, it was like a car crash; it was disturbing, but she couldn’t look away.

Greg strolled over to see what all the commotion was. “What about Sherlock and Molly?” He looked where they were pointing and— “Did he just? And she? Sherlock obviously isn’t as clueless about women as we thought.” He chuckled. “Good for him.”

Sally groaned, wishing she could bleach the image from her brain.

“I told you they were together,” Anderson said smugly as he, Sally, and Greg sat at their usual table in the pub. “I wonder why they haven’t—oh, Mary!”

“Philip,” she acknowledged. “I came as quick as possible; what’s going on?”

“Greg and Sally just found out about Sherlock and Molly,” he told her enthusiastically.

Mary grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Oh, you mean how they’re ‘just friends’ and nothing more? Sherlock knows that I know about them, but I assume he doesn’t know that any of you do.”

All three of them shook their heads.

“Shouldn’t we just tell them we know?” Greg asked. “Then they wouldn’t have to keep it secret…at least not from us.”

“Mm, nope! We are in a unique position. John still doesn’t know. We won’t tell them we know…not yet, anyways.” A mischievous look crossed Mary’s face. “We could have some fun with this.”

“What kind of fun?” Sally asked skeptically.

Mary’s eyes lit up. “I’m glad you asked. Tell me, how good are you all at flirting?”

Anderson drew his brows together. “Where are you going with this?”

“Oh no, I am not flirting with Sherlock Holmes,” Sally told them. “Get someone else to do it.”

Greg laughed. “Anderson already acts in love with ‘im! He could do it!”

Philip narrowed his eyes.

“Greg, you’re assigned to Molly,” Mary decided. “Sally, just do it once and I’ll pay you ten quid.”

“Twenty quid or no deal.”

“Done.”

She sighed. “Alright, fine, it’d probably freak him out coming from me.” The thought actually made her realise this could be good fun after all.

Greg, Anderson, and Sally awaited the detective’s arrival at the scene of the supposed murder-suicide.

“Esteemed colleagues,” Sherlock greeted them. “And Anderson.”

“Hey!” Sally greeted him. “That, uh, coat looks nice on you.”

Sherlock furrowed his brows. “Right.”

“Really,” she insisted. He was turning away and she felt the material of his coat. “It’s softer than it looks, and oh! Have you been working out?” Sally could see Greg behind Sherlock motioning with his hand across his neck telling her she’d made a wrong turn.

“Are you quite done, Miss Donovan?”

With that, Sally backed off not knowing where to go from there. Anderson pulled her aside. “What the hell was that?” he asked. “Sherlock prefers to be complimented on his intellect, not his body.”

“And how would you know?” Sally shot back quietly.

“It’s obvious,” he replied. “The man is a genius and he prides himself on it.”

They watched as Sherlock examined where the bodies had been and the room in its entirety. “Definitely not a murder-suicide,” he told them. “You see here on the floor was one victim’s body, but the other had been posed on the sofa.” He searched through the photographs, finding the one he needed. “From this photo, it shows there aren’t any defensive wounds on either of them. There was a third person.”

“Amazing,” Sally remarked. “I wouldn’t have caught that. How exactly does that brilliant mind of yours work?”

Sherlock sighed. “What exactly are you playing at, Donovan?”

She sauntered up toward him. “Oh, I’m not playing at anything. I just realised how foolish I’ve been.” Sally bit her lip for added effect. “I think we’d be good together, you and I.”

“Ah, so you’re a fanatic now, wonderful,” he said sarcastically. “Type B, then.”

Sally gave a short laugh. “And, uh, what is type B?”

“The ‘my bedroom is just a taxi ride away’ type,” he replied. “I think I’ll head over to the morgue to examine the bodies now.”

“And see Molly,” Anderson muttered under his breath.

Sally’s honeyed smile was suspicious enough, but then she had a wicked idea. “Bye Sherlock, miss you already.”

Sherlock’s jaw dropped when Sally playfully patted his bottom. The man was practically cringing, it amused her to pieces.

“I must be going.” He left rather quickly.

Molly Hooper had just begun examining the corpses when Sherlock swept through the door. “Molly, please tell me no one else is expected to arrive.”

“My day’s going well, thanks for asking,” she replied jokingly. “No. No one else is expected…why?”

“The most disturbing thing happened at the crime scene today, I think—well, I think Sergeant Donovan was…flirting with me.” Sherlock cringed at the memory.

Molly laughed. “Oh, darling, I think she’s taking the mick out of you.”

“I’m serious, Molly, something weird is going on here,” he insisted. “She practically felt me up.”

Before she could reply, Greg strolled in to see how the examination was going. His phone buzzed, revealing the message Mary had sent him.

Go on, flirt with the girl. It’ll make Sherlock delightfully jealous. –MW

He took a breath and cleared his throat. “Molly, you look beautiful today,” Greg smiled.

Sherlock stiffened.

“Thank…you?” she replied. What the hell had gotten into everyone today?

“So, uh, how are the patients?”

“Still dead,” Molly replied as she took note of what she and Sherlock noticed. “There definitely aren’t defensive wounds, so your killer is still out there.”

“Look at this.” Sherlock pointed out track marks on the female victim’s arm.

“You thinking drug deal gone wrong?” Molly asked.

“Mm, possibly. Let’s check the gentleman’s arm, shall we?”

Sure enough, there were track marks on him as well, though they had faded more than the woman’s.

“Good find, you two!” Okay, he thought, say something—anything. “So, uh, Molls, what’d ya say we grab a drink after your shift?” Greg asked. “And, ya know, maybe we could head to my place after?”

Sherlock snapped. “Why don’t you spend more time doing your job rather than flirting with my pathologist!?”

“Sherlock,” Molly berated him in a low voice.

“Leave,” he told Greg. “Now.”

Lestrade backed out of the room, only laughing to himself quietly when he reached the hallway.

“Now, was that absolutely necess—Mmm!“ Molly felt herself being pulled toward him with the hand on the small of her back. His other hand cradled the back of her head, his lips pressing firmly, deliciously on hers.

“Molly,” he uttered breathlessly, snogging her as if his life depended on it. It delighted him to hear her sigh against his mouth as his tongue traced her bottom lip. He guided her to lean her head as he trailed down to her neck, finding her pulse point.

“If you’re not careful,” she breathed heavily, “they’ll figure us out.”

“Mmm, not sure I give a damn,” he mumbled against her skin.

Molly gasped, her eyes widening. Gently, she pushed Sherlock away. He pouted, looking like a wounded puppy. “They know!”

“What?”

“Sherlock, they all obviously found out about us—that’s why everyone is acting so strange. They’re trying to get us to crack,” she explained.

“You know what?” he asked, pointing at her. “You’re right. How did I not see that? But how? We’ve been so careful.”

Molly thought for a moment. “Oh God. Oh no. Sherlock, the crime scene was at the flat across from yours.”

“…yes?”

“I seem to recall us getting intimate near your window before you carried me to your bedroom,” Molly reminded him, blushing at the thought. “They don’t know that we know that they know. We’re gonna turn this ‘round on them.”

Sherlock perked up. “I’m listening…”

Back at 221B, Sherlock rang up Sally, putting it on speaker so Molly could hear.

“We are so gonna get them back!” she exclaimed.

“Shhh,” Sherlock laughed.

The ringing stopped. She picked up. “Hey you.”

“Sally,” Sherlock’s voice dropped an octave. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

She coughed, no doubt surprised by the turn of events. “You what?”

“You made an excellent point earlier—we would be good together,” he told her. Molly covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “I must say, I am intrigued.”

“Really?” Sally couldn’t keep the distaste from her tone.

“I thought we could have a drink or two and come back to my place,” Sherlock suggested, his voice dripping with allurement.

“I—I’ll have to get back to you on that, okay bye.”

Sherlock and Molly couldn’t help but crack up after Sally hung up.

“That takes of her,” she told him.

“Now what do we do about Lestrade?” he wondered.

The next day, he visited the morgue to find Sherlock. It was urgent. Neither the detective or the pathologist were to be seen, but he heard a rummage from the supply closet, and then—

“Oh, Sherlock!”

“…so good. Molly!”

“Ohhhh yes. Yes, yes yes! Harder!”

All kinds of moans and groans continued to sound from the closet, the man’s eyes flaring with annoyance. He threw open the door. “Don’t you two have any self-control!?”

There stood Sherlock and Molly, fully clothed, and laughing. “Sorry about that, brother dear, we thought you were Lestrade.”

“You two are acting like children!” Mycroft berated them. “Why all the secrecy anyway?”

“We didn’t want anyone making a big deal of things,” Molly explained. “Plus, it was more fun that way. Well, Mary knows and you know, but now everyone else does too.”

“Not John,” Sherlock pointed out. “He wouldn’t believe it even if Mary told him—and she has told him.”

Mycroft sighed. “Anyways, I need you to take a look at these files—sniff out the guilty party.”

“I don’t work for you, Mycroft,” Sherlock told him.

“But you will do it.”

Sherlock sighed. “Yes, fine.”

When Mycroft left, Sherlock’s mobile rang. It was Sally. “Sally, I—what? Seven? I—“

Molly mouthed to him, what’s she saying?

“Uh huh. Right, good.” Sherlock hung up. “She’s actually going to come over. Molly, I’m not entirely sure this is a game anymore.”

“Oh yes it is. This has Mary written all over it. I bet she set all this up when she found out that they found out,” Molly told him. “We can win this.”

“Competitive, aren’t you?” Sherlock asked rhetorically. He never realised how amped up she could get over a competition. What was in store for them now?

“Okay, so Greg can’t make it—he’s just arrested the murderer,” Sally told Anderson. The two of them were in a cab headed to Baker Street. Mary and John were already there visiting Mrs. Hudson. Though Mary had concocted this plan, John was unaware of everything going on around him.

When they arrived, Mary was just inside to greet them quietly. “Okay, now, Anderson and I will stay close by on the stairs. Mrs. Hudson is still talking John’s ear off. Sally, go on up.”

“You think this’ll make him crack?” Anderson asked.

“I know it will,” answered Mary.

A knock sounded at the door. “Molly, what do I do?”

“Just play along with her. Nothing will ever get too far,” Molly spoke quietly. She snuck off to Sherlock’s bedroom, closing the door softly.

Sally stood on the other side of the door, waiting for Sherlock to let her in. Mary had adjusted her blouse by popping open two buttons. When Sherlock opened the door, his debonair smile greeted her. He was a good actor, she gave him that.

“Sally, come in.” He gestured for her to enter. “I was just, uh, going over some case files.”

“I have to say I’m surprised you invited me over,” she told him.

“Well, you’re a woman who knows what she wants,” Sherlock replied. “Would you…like to move this conversation to the bedroom?”

Oh, he’s good. “N—No! I mean, not yet.” She laughed nervously. “I’ll uh, undress and you can…Lotion! You should get us some lotion.”

Sherlock swallowed hard. She wasn’t backing down, but she was no longer convincing. Sally was definitely gonna crack first. He headed toward his bedroom, closing the door quickly behind him. “Molly,” he whispered. “She wants me to get lotion, but her resolve is weakening.”

“Make her think you’re really serious about this,” Molly told him, tossing him her body lotion she kept in his nightstand. “She won’t be able to keep the pretense up.”

Meanwhile, Sally was out on the landing at the stairs, freaking out. “He’s not going to back down, what do I do?”

Anderson reached over and tugged on Sally’s blouse, revealing her bra. “There.”

“You didn’t even break off the buttons,” she said in surprise.

“Had a lot of practice,” he smirked.

“What in God’s name are you all doing??” John Watson stood at the bottom of the stairs having seen the entire situation unfold.

“Sally’s trying to seduce Sherlock,” Mary told him.

“What the fu—“

“Fun!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. “Sounds fun!”

“Shit, he’s coming back!” Sally returned inside and closed the door just in time.

“Going somewhere?” he asked. Ugh, she could practically hear his arrogance.

“Uh, no,” she replied, turning to face him. “I was just readying myself.” She motioned to her unbuttoned blouse. Sally slunk closer toward him until they were only inches apart. She tilted her head up, biting her lip. “I want you to kiss me.”

“Kiss me first,” he challenged.

Jesus, just take one for the team, Donovan. Sally placed her hands on his waist, and pulled him against her. She rose on her toes, and just when her lips were a hair’s breadth away…

“No! Okay, fine, you win! I can’t do this!”

“And why can’t you?” she asked smugly.

“Because I’m in love with Molly!”

The front door burst wide open as well as his bedroom door. John, Mary, Anderson and Mrs. Hudson stood in front of him.

“Sherlock?” Molly came up from behind him.

“Molly,” he sighed in relief. “I love you.” It was the first time he had said it to her.

“I love you too, Sherlock.”

“Awww I thought you two were just doin’ it, but you’re in love!” Sally exclaimed unexpectedly.

“We’re in love,” Sherlock confirmed.

John looked around, baffled by the entire situation. “I’ve missed something haven’t I?”

#sherlolly #sherlollyweek2020 #my fanfiction

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missing-my-griffin · 5 years

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My useless & ranty thoughts on 607

This episode might be... my actual favorite episode ever???? Jesus I cried my eyes out for half of it. I just wanted to hug Clarke. She’s the most wonderful and selfless person ever, and guess what SEASON 1 CLARKE IS BACK. Imma write out my thoughts, just bc I feel like I can’t help it.

1) Clarke’s fight - The golden princess is finally back, and I am alive. it was all so genius?? She gave up, just like I thought she would. But it was the middle of the episode, and with everything that was teased, I didn’t think we were gonna leave J!Clarke’s minds the entire episode. So I was like.. huh?? How the fuck are we gonna save her? Her people won’t. For a fraction of a second I thought she’d think of Madi and Bellamy and change her mind and simply decide that she wants to live, but that would be selfish and very unlike Clarke. And then Monty strodes in, the light of my life, and they’re friends and they’re adorable and so smart, omg. And Clarke fucking realizes doing the right thing matters, and she wants to prioritize it over dying for her people?? Who might just be trapped within another tyranny anyways. Fucking.... amen. God. What the hell. Actual, literal S1 Clarke being back. The one who always goes above and beyond, who sacrifices the greater good for the individual if it’s the right thing to do. Who fought teeth and bone to save Jasper, a lost cause. Josephine calling her out on being a scared kid hiding behind the smokescreen image of a badass??? Clarke finding herself again with Monty and actually becoming said badass?? I am - ugh. god.

2) Monty and Clarke. They were absolutely my favorite thing this episode. Monty’s a ray of sunshine and embodies everything Clarke believes in; he was there in MW and backed her, he was there S5 and believed in her. He never ever blamed her for making the tough choice, he only ever blamed her for making the wrong one. Example the list. The list was wrong. Free will, sacrifice or chance, would have been right. A ranking of genes.. that’s wrong. And why did he rip into her for that? Bc he knew she should know better. Bc he believed in her. bc she messed up and used “my people” as an excuse. And then he was back this ep and he didn’t judge her, he helped her find her way and herself and just... name a more iconic duo. Ill wait. Okay, of course, Bellarke. But like... Clonty?? Close second this ep. I wish hed survived. They’d be the cutest bffs.

3) Octavia and Clarke - fitting to have Octavia confront Clarke with her S5 actions. She was compared to O by Raven, called “worse”. Clarke believes it I think. But still, Octavia wasn’t malicious in her confrontation? A dry sarcastic lil bitch and Im loving her. Im in awe of their dynamic anyways and I wish they’d interact again irl. She also has no beef with S5 Octavia because she admired S4 Octavia, I think. The conclave and Octavia’s choice were heroic. Octavia was right, Clarke was wrong. Clarke knew what she did with the bunker was wrong. In hindsight, Clarke thinks she made those choices because she’s a bad person but she made them out of weakness, hopelessness and depression. Clarke ultimately feared Octavia’s choice would be her downfall bc there was a big chance theyd just all kill each other. It’s what happened sort of, it killed Octavia, so Clarke doesn’t judge her. But also, it was the right thing to do anyways: trying. This has been a long time coming. it was eating me up that they didnt face those things Clarke did, narratively. For humanity, that was her justification. That’s wrong. For her people. that’s also wrong. For your people. For people. That’s right. And you’ll catch me crying about this for years.

Octavia being a link between Clarke and bellamy, like always, also made me an emotional mess. Octavia calling her out on leaving Bellamy, even though she fucking threw him in the pit?? omg, hilarious. Clarke doesn’t blame Octavia. She blames herself. Can you believe?? Clarke arguing that Bellamy forgave her. Bellamy not being there bc she doesnt actually believe he did. Also, Clarke thinking Bellamy deep down thinks the worst things about her that she thinks about herself?? Im... not ok. We’ve been knew shes a walking self conscious mess with her heart ripped to pieces bc of bellamy. But confirmation is glorious. the poor girl. AND HE LOVES YOU YOU IDIOT. Which brings me to Pt:

4) Bellarke -- ahhhhh omg. The angst. The depth. What the hell. She couldn’t ‘face’ Bellamy. His voice was everywhere, all the time, it was so eerie, but we didnt see him once? Kill me. Would he have helped her if he was there? hated her? tried to kill her? Walked away? Given her a friendshippy hug and been totally un-in-love contrasting irl Bellamy?? Clarke didnt want to know, so we don’t know. and also, projection bellamy alone could have filled the entire ep in her mind. it would have introduced too many themes into one episode, so Im completely ok with not seeing him. if they’d done anything more than slightly mention Bellamy, they would have opened Pandora’s box. This is so good.

5) Bellamy murder face Blake is back again and he WILL save his wife.

6) lastly: “be the good guys.” Felt so hollow all season. They were preaching it over and over, do better, be better, but like... there was no heart. They were all ‘we shan’t break into this building! That’s not being the good guys!” Did they even understand what Monty meant by that? Turns out they didn’t. Now they do though!! Or; Clarke does. What an episode. I absolutely cannot fucking wait for next week.

#the 100 #thoughts #omg #so good #bellarke #clarke griffin #monty green #rant

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karaxreds · 5 years

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Heart broken (Part One) - Eric Dier

You threw your phone on your bed before runing both hands through your hair roughly, you were beyond angry.

Not just angry you were furious, devasted, and completely broken. There were no precise words to describe how you felt right now.

You've shed a million tears last night, you weren't the kind of girl who would cry over the smallest thing, you were one of the strongest woman, you hated to cry not because it showed weakness but because you knew that crying never solves anything.

You woke up this morning wishing that the events that came rushing into your mind as soon as you opened your eyes were just a horrible nightmare, unfortunately when you turned your head to the other side of the bed...it was empty.

While you were scrolling down on social media last night, as you waited for Eric to come back from his lads-night out as he likes to call it. You were suddenly tagged in thousands of pictures and videos, usually it didn't worry you because you know that ever since you and Eric made your relationship public there were a few accounts with your ship name that would post pictures and videos of the both of you.

But this time it was a whole different kind of taggs, as you clicked on the first one. You jaw dropped as you saw the small ten seconds long video on instagram, at first you thought you were hallucinating but when you went on twitter, you were tagged by a few fans there too.

There it was, a video of Eric sitting in one of the couches in the bar, he looked totally shit-faced with a girl sitting on his lap.

Eric looked uncomfortable at first, at least that's what you thought but you quickly changed your mind when you saw him slapping the girl's arse and it looked that she was really enjoying it.

You could feel the sharp pain in your chest once again, like someone just stabbed you and made sure to turn the knife right inside your heart and then rip it off.

What hurt you the most too is that the girl on his lap looked like you, same height, same hair colour and it disgusted you, you felt like throwing up when you remembered the video once again.

You heard your phone ring once again, you received dozens of texts and calls, messages from your friends asking you if it was true, and some would ask you about how you felt and of course you answered none.

You didn't even know how to feel, In the four years of relationship you had with the blondie, he never once did anything to hurt you, yeah there was some ups and downs just like any other couple but he never did something like this, In fact he was probably the most loyal boyfriend at least that's what you thought untill last night.

Hours have past and he still didn't show up and it only made you feel worse, knowing that he spent the night somewhere else, with some other girl that weren't you.

You decided thay since he didn't shop up it was maybe the time for you to pack a few things,maybe you weren't ready to confront him after all.

You grabbed the small bag you'd usually take when you went to a few of his away game and threw a few pieces of clothing, your mind was all over the place so choosing this and that really was the last thing you wanted so you just threw the first thing you saw.

You zipped up the small back and grabbed your phone from the bed, you didn't bother to change. You were wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants, you sighed walking into the kitchen to grab your car keys.

That's when you felt your hert drop as you heard the front door pushed open and then closed again.

You heart started beating faster, as his footsteps approached. You heard him sigh followed by the jiggling sound of his keys.

Then there he was, standing in front of you. He looked exhausted, probably hangover from last nights events. You were frozen, he stopped in his tracks as well as soon as he noticed your presence.

"H-Hey." He stuttered nervously, you wished that somehow he felt just as bad as you did.

You didn't say anything, your grip tightened around your keys keeping you from bursting out on him.

He lowered his eyes into the small bag on the floor and then widened as he noticed what was happening.

"A-are you leaving?" He asked in a small voice, his face becoming a litle paler.

"Wha-" You started but there was a lump in your throat, "what did you expect mw to do?"

"Please, Let me explain." He whispered, taking a few steps toward you. You lifted your hand up between you two, stopping him from moving any closer toward you.

"Explain what?" You shook your head, "Explain how you-"

"Don't say it." He mumbled. "Just let me explain, Okay?"

"Eric." You shook your head again, "There's nothing unexplained here. There are thousands of pictures and videos on social media..."

"I know...but it's not what you think." He tried to explain.

"J-Just...How?" Your voice cracked at the end. "How could you?"

"Baby, Please I-"

"Was I not enough for you? Is it me? Was I a bad girlfriend?"

"What? No! Of course not, you're everything I've ever wanted and more!" He cried, moving closer but you took a step back.

"Is she better? She is. Isn't she?" Your voice barely audible now, as you finally let your tears down.

It broke his heart, the second he saw the tears he knew he screwed up badly, he knows you rarely cry and when he sees the tears it just breaks him.

"Baby, Please don't cry." He whispered, "I am so sorry. I promise, I would never mean to hurt you on purpose. I was drunk, too drunk to know what's happening."

You let out a loud sob, covering tour mouth with one hand while you wiped away the tears with the other.

"Fuck this!" He yelled, "Please, Don't cry." He was now himself crying, red eyes.

"I fucking loved you!" You screamed, "How could you do that? While I waited here for you, for hours to make sure you were okay! You were out there fucking some other g-"

"W-what?" He cut you off, "No, no no no! I would never touch someone else like that." He whispered, "I- I could never touch someone that isn't you."

"I don't believe you." You said with a harsh tone, your face hardening. "I saw it! Everyone did."

"I promise you-"

"I don't wanna hear it, Eric." You cut him off once more, clearly not believing him or his lies.

"Why won't you listen! I know I fucked up but just hear me out for god's sake!" He yelled again.

"You have a lot of nerves to come here and yell at me as if this is my fault." You punched his chest, it probably hurt you more than it hurt him. "You're a fucking dick Dier." You punched him again.

"Stop it, Baby please..." He spoke softly, grapping both of your arms to stop you from punching him again.

"Let me go." And he did as he was told. "You ruined us."

"I get it you don't want to talk now." He said giving up, "Forgot how stubborn you are." He added, rudely.

Your jaw dropped at his rudeness, he was guilty and yet he was still playing the innocent card on you.

"You're unbelievable." You breathed out, "I fucking hate you." You spat.

And there it was again, the words that broke his heart. Eric just didn't know how to express himself in this situation, he knows he fucked up bad, very bad.

"I don't wanna do this anymore." You sighed, "I don't have enough energy."

"What do you mean?" He panicked.

You didn't answer, you just grabbed your bag from the floor and walked past him toward the front door.

"Are you leaving me?" His voice cracked, "Please, don't leave me."

You shook you head with the lump still in your throat, "I need to stay away from you for some time."

"Then stay here." He rushed, "I'll leave, at least I'll know your safe and that maybe there's a chance that you'll f-"

"No." You stopped him, "I want to stay away from you and everything that reminds me of you, this is your house I don't wanna st-"

"This is OUR house." He emphasises on the our.

"Doesn't matter, Eric." You shrugged, "You stay here."

"Where are you going to go? Are going to come back?"

You sighed, lowering your head down looking at the floor.

"At elast tell where you're going, so i know you're safe. "

"I am a big girl." You said sharply, "I can take care of myself, I'll see you around."

And before he could say anything else you rushed and opened the front door trying not to look back at him because you knewthat if you do, there was no way you were leaving.

"Goodbye, Eric." Those were the last words you whispered before you slemmed the door leaving a heartbroken Eric behind you, on the other side of the door.

You know that leaving this house you also left a piece of you in it, a piece of your heart.

You didn't know what was going ro happen now, but you know that you have to stay away from him for a while before you make up your mind because you know that there was absolutely no excuse for cheating.

You got into your car and you already knew where you were going, to the person who introduced you to Eric in the first place, to the person whom you've always shared your secrets with, to your best friend's house, To Harry's house.

Ps: Eric Dier deserves all the happiness in the world, protect him at all costs.

#football imagines #footballers imagines #footballers one shot #tottenham hotspur #eric dier imagine #eric dier #baby eric #one shot #imagines #football #spurs

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jefferyryanlong · 4 years

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Fresh Listen - The Squids, The Squids (Bankshots Music, Inc. and Oto-Songs, Inc., 1981) and Duganopacalypse Now (A Fan Compilation, circa 1981)

(Some pieces of recorded music operate more like organisms than records. They live, they breathe, they reproduce. Fresh Listen is a periodic review of recently and not-so-recently released albums that crawl among us like radioactive spiders, gifting us with superpowers from their stingers.)

The first band I ever loved was the Beatles, and John Lennon was dead years before I had any idea of who they were. It wasn’t until Kurt Cobain died that I had any interest in Nirvana--I recall an eighth grade classmate looking at mw with contempt after I told them I was unfamiliar with their music, when “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was already an MTV hit. The chemical composition of my brain was dissolved and reconstituted over the course of two weeks when, at twelve years old, I watched One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Cool Hand Luke on late-night television, but both films were about twenty years old by then. I just heard of Herbie Hancock’s V.S.O.P. album, featuring Freddie Hubbard, Wayne Shorter, Ron Carter, and Tony Williams, about two weeks ago. I’m 42 years old now and I’ve only just come to realize how cutting and prescient Claude McKay’s novel Banjo is.

All this to say that I wish I’d been around when Honolulu’s The Squids were playing around town. (Much thanks to Roger and Leimomi from Aloha Got Soul for pointing me in the right direction.) The Squids were so odd and varied, a New Wave outfit with the muscularity and venom of the truest punk rock, able to invoke the B-52′s in the same gig as Talking Heads or the Ventures or the Specials, all with the same veracity, but much weirder and crueler. They married a sunny, breezy synth sound with an aesthetic that I can only describe as joyously psychopathic, spraying smart-ass malice on the unfortunate subjects of their songs.

Though the band only officially released a 7-inch EP in 1981 (currently unavailable on Amazon) Comrade Motopu, the mysterious archivist who, through digitized vinyl and cassette tapes, as well as donated photos, scanned liner notes, flyers and news releases, has painstakingly agglomerated Hawai‘i rock music and associated miscellany on a magnificent pre-Y2K looking website, has not only shared the Squids’ EP (featuring “Tourist Riot,” “‘Love Theme’ From Surfer Boy,” “In,” and “Rio”), but what is also listed as Duganopacalypse, a fan compilation with even more twisted tunes: “Medicine,” “Sexy,” “Head in the Sand,” the ska-soaked “New Girl in Town,” their partially awful, mostly spectacular “Cool Clear Water,” and “Pretty Vacant (with Dugan),” the Never Mind the Bullocks classic with a seemingly hated fan on the inarticulate vocals. I only pray that Comrade Motopu continues documenting this underhand era of Pacific rock music of the late Seventies to early Nineties--the site is a treasure, and more words about the bands highlighted on comrademotopu.com (the Vacuum and Yahweh’s Mistake, for instance) will be coming soon.

The Squids began as a concept by guitarist Beano Shots in 1979, later to take shape as a full-fledged human/cephalopod music group with members Kit and Gerry Ebersbach, Dave Trubitt, and Frank Orall. Those of us who sweatily flailed our way through a booze-and-drug bender on the strobe-lit (at least, as it appeared then) dance floor of the Wave Waikiki between the hours of 2 AM and 4 AM when all the other bars closed down would be surprised to learn that the now-demolished former nightclub, a hub for the scraped-out, after-hours husks operated by the residual combustion of chemicals in their blacked-out reptilian brains, once hosted the edgy Squids as the house band, presumably when the going-out crowd still had an affinity for fun, strong music, and did not simply seek to propel themselves upon the the mechanized beats and soulless zombie tracks initiated by a faceless button masher, in hopes that they would be manipulated, by the end of the night, into some loveless fuck with a nobody.

Of the Squids’ stage show, we have but one recorded example of the band live in concert: a faithful interpretation of the Sex Pistols’ “Pretty Vacant,” in which the players serve as back-up band for a loyal heckler known only as “Dugan.” Having taken (jokingly) enough shit from Dugan, the band harasses him into sing-shouting the song. The performance captures the “fuck you” sentiment of “Pretty Vacant” with a primitive abandon that almost makes the original seem like a Monkees’ tune. It also portrays a punk rock scene less enlightened to the diverse lifestyles it later engendered, when “dick sucking” was applied exclusively as a pejorative.

The same pissed-off adrenalin leads off the the 1981 EP in “Tourist Riot,” an apocalyptic narrative of that species of traveler compelled to hammer a new experience into a predetermined mold that will establish an appropriate backdrop to their social media posts. The tourists here burn hotels and smash out windows when their expectations aren’t suitably met--a bad vacation in which they are pushed around and mistreated leads the tourists to murder and mayhem.

“Tourist Riot” lays out the Squids’ music aspirations right away, especially in the interplay between Beano Shots’s electric guitar and Kit Ebersbach’s keyboards, which morph from forbidding electronic warning tones to psychedelic ghost notes to the replicated sirens of a city on fire, collateral damage in a war between locals and tourists. Following a surprisingly effective bridge that concludes with a shouted “Fuck it, I’m going to New York City!” is an atonal guitar solo reminiscent of Nels Cline asleep at the wheel, redeemed by a more fluid keyboard exploration.

When Jimi Hendrix claimed that “you’ll never hear surf music again” in 1967, he was, through the example of his own transcendent playing on “Third Stone from the Sun,” burying the corpse of that elementary, improvisationally unimaginative rock instrumental with the axe with which he had slew it. To that end, after hearing Jimi Hendrix and all the musical manifestations that took shape from his cosmic residue, it is sometimes hard to take surf music seriously. “‘ Love Theme’ from Surf Boy” comes across as the Squids’ winking parody of the genre, with its reverb, its whammy, its overall melancholy, and its simplicity. That said, there is some sophistication in the song’s structure, as if the wordless tune was more an exercise in technique, an attempt to take stock creatively before reaching out to a farther and stranger place.

On “In,” the guitars and keyboards snarl rabidly toward the same explosive destination, barely kept in check by the talents of the players. Lyrically minimalist, the song’s non-sequiturs slice through the instruments like assembled cut-up style by William S. Burroughs. “Are you losing sense of humor, could be Jesus was only kidding” followed by “are you losing sense of humor, could be Jesus was just a salesman.” These pieces of thoughts unfinished resonate in my head like something close to catchy--to what end, I don’t know. Where the keyboards overmatched the guitars on “Tourist Riot,” on “In” the guitar is locked in and dirty, climaxing in repetitive harmony between the instruments to close out the song.

When I first read the track listing to the 1981 EP, I thought the final song “Rio” would be a rough rendering of the hit video single by near-contemporaries Duran Duran (whose synth-guitar arrangements, though undoubtedly smoother, find relation in the Squids’ overall aesthetic). Instead, “Rio” is an acid commentary on the American Capitalist, represented as a white suit soaked in sweat, and his compulsion to foster vice and iniquity to exotic locales.

I’m not sure whether the fan compilation Duganopacalypse, also available for listening through the Comrade Motopu website, was recorded before, after, or during the sessions of the 1981 EP. A few tracks lead me to believe that the songwriting and arrangements are from a wiser, more sophisticated band, while other songs seem so apelike in their imitations as to come through as pointless satires, or maybe the explorations of a band trying to find its identity.

In “Medicine,” for instance, the Squids operate under an overpowering B-52′s filter that washes out their uniqueness. Whereas on previous tracks this influence existed only at the fringes of their sound, the singer on “Medicine” channels Fred Schneider on the verse and switches to David Bowie during the bridge. The role-play, though, doesn’t kill the the more interesting aspects of “Medicine”--its guitar lick is inventive and so wormy as to be slightly irritating, and the song’s themes, that one must willingly imbibe “the medicine” to accept the hypocrisies of this “downer world,” resound strongly to anyone who casts their eyes around a crowded room.

Where the B-52′s references go deep in “Medicine,” Talking Heads emerge in “Sexy,” from David Byrne’s vocal tics to the subtle and swampy “Take Me to the River” vibe. It goes beyond straight homage to cover band territory, but it does emphasize the band’s technical ability to lock into a groove. “New Girl in Town” is a heaping serving of not-completely-warmed-up ska leftovers, a bit misogynist (of its time, but still). “Head in the Sand,” regrettably, could have been the Squids’ crossover pop hit. I say “regrettably” because, even though the song has a point--that the ability of humans to maintain a semblance of happiness is to carefully cultivate the warm fuzz of obliviousness, sacrificing will to fate in the belief that nothing we could do to change anything would matter anyway--the effort seems more calculated than organic, a plastic approximation of the closest this band, given their specific set of skills, could get to a pop crossover hit. The work put into it seems to drain away at some of the dirty magic. It‘s self-conscious in a way that the other songs aren’t.

Finally we have “Cool Clear Water,” what would have been the band’s masterpiece if they’d spent a little more time recording a decent take (the version on the Duganopacalypse almost sounds live, though it could have been laid down in a rehearsal space). This is not the country classic performed by Marty Robbins and Johnny Cash. The Squids’ “Cool Clear Water” is the frightening confession of a soldier recently returned from the war in Vietnam, directed by an angel spirit to mass murder with a shotgun from a tower in town. When the killer is set to be executed, the angel spirit comforts him, tells him his spirit will be redeemed in heaven for “setting the people free.” The unnerving subject matter of “Cool Clear Water” is given sinister shape by the relentless horror-notes of Kit Ebersbach’s organ, the guitar holding down the song’s march toward inevitable nothingness because the bass (normally played with elan by Gerry Ebersbach) is a complete mess (I’m not sure if she hadn't learned the song or if she just showed up at the gig drunk).

As Marc Maron frequently says on his podcast, “there’s no late to the party” anymore, given the the amount of content available to all of us via the digital consciousness that we are now more plugged into than not. But I’ve waited all my life to lose myself in something vital, of the moment, with my eyes and ears and heart present while the thing is taking shape, at its most temporal. I feel that way listening to the Squids. I wish I could have seen them at one of their Wave gigs. I wish I could have had a beer with them afterward, and gushed in the embarrassing way I do about things I love.

#freshlisten #thesquids #honolulu #1981ep

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sometimesrosy · 5 years

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I really like your further analysis of Raven! Very interesting & thoughtful. I’m curious, bc based on what you wrote here it seems like you don’t think Raven’s grown or become better as a character. Unless you just didn’t include it or I’m misinterpreting it which is TOTALLY possible. But I think she has shown some growth in finding self esteem & worth w/finally coming to a place of acceptance/peace about her leg & realizing she’s still valuable and worthy despite her disability.

Like I got a chronic disability after being in an accident when I was Raven’s age & it really broke me down & made me feel worthless & I had to face all my self worth & self esteem issues bc of it. When I watched Raven come thru that & find a place of acceptance & healing it really helped me. I know she brags about how awesome she is sometimes, but sometimes I feel like it’s a way of expressing love & affirmation to herself that she always longed for & never got. Like she’s reminding herself.

Yeah, no I know what you’re saying and I agree she has developed. I’m not sure she’s really managed to deal with her self esteem, especially being stuck up in space and not being able to get them home, but I DO think that she learned a lot about herself from her disability. But I think the physical disability is less about her self esteem than her MENTAL abilities?

And like we got so much from Raven on her personal struggles in seasons 2, 3 and 4, when there weren’t any in season 5, no growth for her SELF?? That’s what felt unfinished for me.

I do think that Raven’s pragmatism is rather heartless sometimes. Like she didn’t really get an attack of morals until Luna came with her radiation poisoned people and Raven denied them medicine and watched them die. That did affect her a lot.

But when she got to science island and she was the voice of morality? I was like, isn’t that a little hypocritical of you? But maybe it’s because she made the connection between her OWN torture in MW and watching Luna’s little girl die and THEN shifting to experimenting on people with the nightblood? Like if finally connected? I mean. Raven was there when Clarke took the nightblood herself. She watched her do it. Murphy didn’t. Emori was out. But Raven saw. HOWEVER, at that point, she wasn’t blaming Clarke anymore. Clarke came back for her. Clarke sacrificed for her.

I just think that Clarke being ruthless Clarke again triggers the OLD damage from being that unloved girl.

And see, that’s the thing about trauma. You think that you’ve solved it and figured it out and healed it and grown, and you have, but something else triggers you and those issues come BACK. Or the ones that were under those issues that you didn’t know.

So if Raven is confronting Clarke, then I want to see all that past blame and guilt and worthlessness and ruthlessness come out. I’d just like to mention that Raven wanted to sell MURPHY, an innocent man, so her boyfriend a guilty mass murderer, could get away with his crime. And then she blamed Clarke for making his suffering less, instead of starting a war which would have left them all dead. Right? Like this HAS NEVER BEEN RESOLVED.

EVER. And what she did to Murphy was never even mentioned. In fact, all the blame for harm has ALWAYS been placed on Murphy for paralyzing her. I used to think they just forgot it. But I don’t think that anymore. I think her demons are coming up to. And it’s all connected. Raven, her mother, Finn, Clarke, Murphy, self esteem, being chosen first, love triangles, blame, responsibility, leaving Clarke behind.

But I don’t know. It’s still to be seen. And when I was writing that first Raven piece, I was thinking, well I know why I understand Raven’s psyche here, I relate. I also have chronic fatigue, and I was feeling Raven’s fear of losing her intelligence, the one thing that always made her special. It cuts deep.

And I really want to see where she goes in season 6.

#the 100 #raven reyes #princess mechanic #raven x murphy #demons

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kenzieam · 6 years

Text

It’s Time - (Bucky X OC)

Rating: M (language, eventual smut, angst)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @jaamesbbarnes @lancefvcker @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @empress-of-boujee @tbetz0341chook007 @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @melgoodwin @clarabella960 @curvybihufflepuff @angryschnauzer @wowspideyholland @sergeantwhitewolf @smilexcaptainx @plaidcat4815

****************************************************************************************************

An AU story with Bucky Barnes and my new OFC, Nika, please let me know what you think!!

****************************************************************************************************

It's time.

Two little words, glowing on my phone screen; an innocent text, that manage to stop my heart.

Even though I've been expecting this for the last eight months, I'm still not ready.

Taking a deep breath, I dial the familiar number. He answers on the fourth ring.

"Lev."

"Clint."

For a long moment, neither of us speak.

"Are you coming home?" He finally asks.

"Does she even remember me?"

"Her only daughter? Of course she does."

My cuticles are suddenly very interesting. "Do I have time?"

"Yeah. If you hurry. I'd give her maybe a week."

"Does she want to see me?"

He sighs then, and I feel a small twinge of guilt. "Yes, she's been asking for you, she doesn't understand why you left in the first place."

"You know why-"

"I know, and before the cancer started rotting her brain Mom knew too, but now she's asking..... Can I tell her you'll be here soon?"

Dammit. "Yeah. My manager owes me, I'll call in my vacation time; let me find a flight and I'll call you back with the details."

"Thanks, Lev."

"Sorry I wasn't there."

"Don't worry about it."

"Is he going to be there?"

Another sigh. "He's one of my best friends, of course he'll be around."

"I don't want to see him."

Clint is silent for so long, I wonder if the call dropped and glance at my screen to check.

"It's been five years, Lev. You're going to have to let it go."

"You know I can't."

"You don't know the whole story, and if you weren't so goddamn stubborn I could've told you it a long time ago."

"Clint, don't. Don't go all big brother on me."

"Six minutes older."

"Big whoop."

I hear mumbling in the background, Clint's reply is muffled. "Lev? I gotta go, Nat needs help with the baby. You still have to meet your niece, you little puke.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Just leave a message if I don’t answer, sometimes it takes awhile to get Lou to sleep.”

“Alright.”

“Bye, you little shit.”

“Bye, ass-munch.”

My smile fades as the call ends. My Mom is dying, end stage cancer and, from the other side of the country, it’s been easy to avoid that hard truth. She always loved Clint more than me anyway, but that’s hardly an excuse. Now it’s time to face the music.

A few minutes noodling around on my laptop gets me a round-trip flight leaving tomorrow morning.

My call to my manager is short and saccharine sweet. I have the next three weeks off, with the option of taking another week; it definitely pays to hoard your vacation time.

My neighbor across the hall agrees to watch Grimshaw for me, and I pet his sleek black fur one last time before handing him over, earning a nip for my trouble. The former stray is smart, even for a cat and he knows what’s up. He never gets shuttled over to the neighbors unless I’m leaving for an extended period of time, and he makes sure I know he’s displeased.

It doesn’t take long to pack, and I’m yawning under the covers not long after. I’m stubbornly refusing to consider what’s going to happen once I get home, and what my chances are of running into him.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** The flight doesn’t take nearly long enough, and far too soon I’m walking through arrivals, wondering if it would be uncouth to pop into the airport bar for a few shots of liquid courage.

“Hey stranger!”

The first real smile I’ve cracked all day appears as I turn to the speaker and am swept up into a bone-cracker of a bear hug, suddenly surrounded by familiar cologne and strong arms.

“Hi, Steve.”

“That’s all? Hi, Steve? Haven’t seen you for years and it’s ‘Hi, Steve?”

“Oh! Steven! My beating heart! I’ve missed you so!” I wail dramatically, pretending to swoon and falling against his broad chest, looking up into his amused face before reaching up and clutching at his cheeks, pinching them and pulling him down for a loud European style set of kisses. “Better?”

“A little.” He teases, slinging an arm over my shoulder and pulling me to his side. “Did Clint tell you I was picking you up?”

“No, he just said he wasn’t going to be able to and he’d see who he could find. I was thinking I’d probably get a cab.”

“Nah, baby girl. As soon as he said you were flying in I volunteered.” His arm tightens, pulling me closer and he plants a loud kiss to the top of my head. Out of all of Clint’s friends, Steve has always been the big brother, the big affectionate goof not ashamed to tell you he loved you, that always answered the phone, no matter the god-awful hour and was halfway out the door to pick you up before your drunken ass could even remember which party you were currently at.

He scrunches a handful of my hair. “What’s this? Channeling homeless 80’s hair-band?

“Shut up.” I slap his shoulder hard enough to hurt my hand, but of course it doesn’t faze the gorilla. “I had a hair appointment booked today, but I’m here.”

“You look like you did in school, last picture I saw, you had some sleek French model bob thing.”

I feel a twinge of guilt, that was almost a year ago. “Nah, it grew out. I’ve been up to my eyeballs in projects lately; my only regular date is my masseuse to try and loosen up these knots I get from bending over a drafting table all day.”

“Clint said you’re almost a partner?”

“Bro exaggerates.” I stop short, grinning widely at the vehicle Steve has led me to. “Nice wheels, Rogers.”

His grin back is equal parts pride and bashful. All through high school he’d talked about owning a vintage Porsche, and the black piece of art in front of me sure looked like one. “Got lucky and found the ad just as the guy posted it, it needed a little body work, but not much else. Got it reasonable enough, guy wanted room in his garage for his new toy.”

Stowing my bags in the front, trunk, I remind myself, he holds my door open like a gentleman then runs around the front, sliding into the driver’s side with his typical grace before turning the key and grinning widely at me. It was infectious and I can’t help but grin back, squeaking in surprise when he lays a few blackies screeching out of the parking lot.

“So how is work going?” Steve asks, downshifting, the hum of the engine immediately addicting.

“I’m a senior architect at the firm, but I doubt I’ll be partner anytime soon.”

“Why? You’re amazing, Bean. I saw what you’d draw in art class.”

“My personnel file calls it a ‘bellicose attitude’, I’m sure if I wasn’t the one bringing in 40% of the contracts myself, and if they hadn’t head-hunted me, I’d of been skidded months ago.”

“Why the attitude? Just do your thing, sweet; don’t pay attention to the peasants.”

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. “Half of the people there are just concerned with prestige; they just want to design the newest ‘in’ thing, not for the art of it, but the fame; I’m not an architect for the glory, I love architecture.”

“Come back home, there’s plenty of firms in Manhattan that would love to have you. Get out of Seattle before you’re completely disillusioned.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fixing me with an affectionate exasperation. “You can’t do that forever, Bean. It’s been five years.”

“Do you and Clint compare notes?” I grumble, pointing out the windshield. “Stop at that Starbucks and I’ll buy you a Caramel Macchiato to shut up.”

Smirking, Steve pulls into the parking lot and kills the engine but before I can climb out he grabs my hand, stopping me. “It’s hard not to, you guys were perfect for each other. He’s spent the last five years kicking his own ass over it, and we miss you here, please just talk to the guy.”

“He slept with another girl, Steve. Or did you forget? Got her pregnant too.”

A dark emotion sweeps across Steve’s normally cheerful face. “That’s your side of it.”

“What other side is there?” Even as the words leave my mouth I feel a hot flash of shame. That had been part of the reason I’d left in the first place, to avoid this; to stop from breaking the gang up by demanding they choose sides.

“Are you happy?” He asks suddenly.

“What?”

“Working across the country, in a city where you have no family? Sure, you’re an architect, your dream; but this is the first time you’ve been home since Clint and Nat’s wedding.... four years ago, has your anger been worth that?”

Suddenly, I wasn’t sure anymore. The wave of nostalgia I’d been holding back hits me full force then and I have to look away, blinking back unexpected tears. Steve’s hand is warm over mine.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just.... just talk to him, Bean. Clear the air if nothing else. If you still feel the same way after then you can go back to Washington with a clear heart, but it’s obvious you’re not over him.” He cups my chin, turning my head to look at him and waits patiently until I raise my eyes. He smiles gently, grinning wider when I manage a wet smile back.

“Love you, Bean. I’ve missed you; we’ve all missed you.”

“Love you back, doofus. You want sprinkles?”

“You’re buying? Of course.” He pulls away, reclining into his seat with a groan and flaps his hand at me. “Hurry up, I’m thirsty.”

His Macchiato occupies him the rest of the way and I find myself staring out the window as we drive, finding less changes than I expected to the old neighbourhood. I was used to constant design and construction back in Seattle, this is exactly what I remember from high school.

“Nothing’s changed.” Steve beats me to the punch, slowing to a stop to let an old lady cross the road, carrying a reusable shopping bag. He sticks his head out the window. “You need any help, Mrs. Proctor?”

Her reply is muffled, but Amelia Proctor was ancient when I was young, and muttered back then too. I catch a ‘no, dear boy, but thank you’ then she’s past us, moving like creeping Jesus.

After he closes the window I grin. “Mrs. Proctor’s still around, huh?”

“Yep, and she’ll still chase you down with her cane if you cut across her flower garden. How many times did you do that?”

I can’t stop a giggle. “At least once a week, it was a game; she loved it.”

“You two were terrible; poor Mrs. Proctor, if it wasn’t you, it was him.”

He’s treading in dangerous waters again, and I look away.

I don’t look forwards again until he turns the car into the driveway, I’m staying at Mom’s while I’m here, same lapis blue exterior with white trim, same swing on the wrap-around porch. Clint’s car is parked in front of the garage doors. I glance down the street, his house is just a half-block down, brick-red with grey trim. He and Nat bought that house from the Foster’s right after they got married, would they stay there, or move into this house, our childhood home?

“There she is!” My door is yanked open and arms pull me out into a tight hug.

“Sam Wilson.”

“Lev Barton.” He lets me go only far enough to kiss my forehead then yanks me back again, finally releasing me with a loud sigh. “You look good baby girl, except for that hair.” He cuts a glance at Steve and I wonder briefly if Rogers texted him to have that line ready.

“Shut up.”

His laugh is infectious and he slings his arm around my neck, pulling me close and almost off my feet. “I’m kidding, you look like you did in high school, it looks good.”

He’s the second person to say that, first Steve and now Sam; I hadn’t really had time to think about it these last few months, who else is going to wax nostalgic on me?

“Baby sister!” I hear the familiar voice and duck out from Sam’s arm just in time to be swept up by Clint. It takes my breath away just how tightly he grabs me and I feel a rush of fresh shame; what kind of sister have I been, letting him deal with all this himself?

“I’m sorry.” I murmur in his ear and he knows immediately what I’m talking about.

“It’s okay, Mom’s always been hardest on you, I understood why you’ve stayed away.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to my hair. “I’m just happy you’re here now.” He steps back, glancing over his shoulder, his face splitting into a huge grin as Nat appears, a pink blanket wrapped bundle in her arms. My sister-in-law and childhood friend steps closer, looking every inch a glowing new mom. She tilts the bundle so I can see and I feel my heart immediately burst.

“Ohhhh.... guys, she’s adorable.” I find myself cooing, making ‘gimme’ fingers. Carefully my new niece is placed in my arms and I’m completely suckered.

She’s got Clint’s blond hair and Nat’s nose, fist curled against her downy-soft cheek. She’s already a few months old but she still looks like a tiny doll to me.

“She’s so little.”

Clint wraps his arm around my shoulders again, looking down at his daughter. “Yeah, she’s just a little shit,” he grins, sidestepping Nat’s playful smack.

“Is Jax still around? I’m getting her name tattooed on my wrist.” It’s a split second decision, but that’s how I roll.

“Yeah, he’s still downtown.” Clint answers, shaking his head. We may be twins, but we’ve never been alike. Clint’s got Mom’s hair and eyes, while I’m darker, like Dad. Clint treats his body like a temple, whereas I’ve closing in on an even dozen tattoos. Clint’s never had so much as an earring, while I’ve had a whole gamut of piercings, up to and including one only my infrequent boyfriends have ever seen. “Can you see Mom though before you run off defacing yourself further?”

My mood stutters a bit as I’m reminded why I’m here in the first place and Clint sobers as well, pressing a kiss to my forehead in apology before stepping away. Nat takes his place and smiles as her new daughter stirs and blows a few bubbles in her sleep. I just grin like a damn fool down at her for a few minutes, breathing soft-baby smell and sighing.

“Eloise Arabella Barton.” I grin.

“You’re not tattooing all that, are you?” Nat sounds doubtful.

“No, just ‘Lou’, it’s almost as cute as her.”

Clint reappears, face sombre. “I just called the hospice. Mom’s having a good day, did you want to go?”

I gently hand Lou back and take a deep breath. “Just let me put my bag in my room, then yeah.” I glance over at Steve and Sam, standing nearby. “You guys?”

Sam shakes his head. “I gotta run, Wanda’s on bedrest. You have to come by and see her, Bean.”

“How much longer does she have?”

“Five weeks. And she hates every minute of it. First pregnancy was fine, now the second one is dragging her down.”

“Must be a boy, then.”

“Ha Ha. Text me later Bean, before Wanda opens the bedroom window and starts screaming your name.”

“I will.”

Sam turns and starts jogging away; he, Wanda and their adorable daughter Zoë live the next street over.

“Steve?”

He shakes his head. “I have to run by the site, check out the new crew.”

I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. Steve would have been a good buffer between me and my Mom, now I’m going in alone. “Business going good?” I feel bad for not asking sooner about Steve’s construction company.

“Yeah, it’s good.” He seems reluctant to answer, “Buck handles most of the grunt work now, I handle the clients end of it.”

I nod. Steve always was the most even-tempered of us all, the one who easily made and kept friends, the ‘never met a stranger’ guy. His business partner, the man I’d avoided for five long years, was a whole other story.

He leans forward suddenly, presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “Say hi to your Mom for me and I’ll see you tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

“Didn’t Clint tell you? He’s having a barbecue to welcome you back.”

“What?”

“It was a surprise, you big dummy.” Clint deadpans behind me. “If Bean knew about it, she’d catch the first flight back to Seattle.”

My immediate flash of panic is quickly overwhelmed by the thought of seeing all the old neighborhood again. Surely it’ll be big and busy enough that even if he does show up, I can avoid him.

Steve shrugs in a ‘sorry, not sorry’ way and turns away, calling goodbye over his shoulder before roaring off.

“Dick.” Clint shakes his head, grinning. “C’mon. Nat’s feeding Lou; hop in the car and we’ll go see Mom.”

I never did get to put my bags inside, so I set them just inside the porch and walk over to Clint’s vehicle.

“You need a minivan now, Dad.” I tease.

“Nah,” he replies easily, buckling his seat-belt and gesturing into the backseat. “This is the ultimate in soccer-mom SUV chic, minivans are so last season.”

We fall silent as we get closer to the hospice and I find myself picking at a small mark on my jeans. The shaking in my knees gets worse as I follow Clint inside the building, smiling dutifully as I’m introduced to the receptionist, then follow my brother down a maze of hallways. He knows the way and if I wasn’t about to have a panic attack, I’d be able to focus more on how downright beautiful and peaceful it is here. Soft lights and music, green spaces and small waterfalls, it’s a nice place, considering you only come here if you’re going to die. Dad’s estate has been footing the bill for here, and I can see now why it costs so much.

He stops in front of a room and holds up a hand. “Wait here.” He instructs before disappearing inside. I fidget and wait, pulling at my poor cuticles a little more before he reappears. “C’mon.”

I follow, swallowing hard but I’m still not prepared for the sight that awaits me. Always fashionably lean, Mom is positively gaunt now, her hair thin and colorless, a far cry from the perfect weekly blow-outs she always had. Dad had been a successful business man up to his surprise death from a heart attack when Clint and I were sixteen, and Mom had always been the polished, glamorous wife, doting on her favored son and tolerating her free-spirited daughter. Spare with her compliments and sharp with her judgements, her and I had never really gotten on. She’d been smart though, learning the business quietly from Dad, taking over when he died and selling it for an embarrassing profit a year later, she’d ensured herself a comfortable life, and now, a comfortable death. I knew there were trust funds set up for Clint and I, but I’d never looked into mine, preferring to make my own money.

Her eyes, bleary with heavy painkillers, nonetheless lock onto me like a missile.

“Levka.”

I’ve never gone by my full name. Supposedly, when we were born, Dad got to name Clint, and called him Clinton Edward after some childhood friend that died young, while Mom got to name me. She had a degree in Russian Literature that she’d never to my knowledge used, other than bestowing me with my incongruous handle; Levka Valentina Barton.

She reaches for my hand, breaking me out of my thoughts and I give it before I can think twice. Her grip is weaker, but still stronger than most men. I sit in the chair Clint pushes forward for me and try to think of what to say.

“Mom, I-”

“Don’t, Levka.” Her voice is surprisingly strong. “You and I have never been ones for idle chitchat, at least not with each other.”

I shift guiltily on my chair, wondering if I’m about to get my proverbial ass handed to me by a woman with no fucks left to give.

“I wanted to see you before I go,” she continues, as matter of fact as if she’s leaving for a weekend at the spa. “I’ve always been proud of you, Levka; even when I didn’t show it.”

I nearly fall off my chair in shock. Mom has never, ever told me she was proud of me.

“You are as strong as your name, and you have always been strong in your convictions. Perhaps that’s why we’ve never gotten along, but I’ve always admired how you make your own way. I want my grand-daughter to have strong role models in her life, to grow up knowing independent women like you and her mother; therefore, I’m leaving you my house-”

I glance in shock at Clint, but he doesn’t look surprised.

“-and I hope you will move back home and help raise Lou, help mold her into a eloquent and respected young lady.”

I’m gasping like a fish out of water and Clint steps closer, resting his hand on my shoulder.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, Levka; for not being the best mother to you. I want to be able to see your father again and tell him we are okay.”

Okay, now I’m crying. I feel Clint’s hands on my shoulders and for the longest time, I can only hold Mom’s hand against my cheek as I try to form words. That’s all I’ve wanted, all my life from this woman, acceptance. “Yes Mom; of course.” I manage tearfully a few minutes later.

Almost immediately Mom nods and closes her eyes, sighing peacefully and for a micro-second I panic, thinking she’s gone ahead and died, but Clint leans forward over me, gently disentangles our hands and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“She does that,” he explains quietly. “Falls asleep really easily. The painkillers. She’ll be out for hours.” He pulls gently at me. “C’mon, Bean.”

I let him pull me to my feet, let him lead me outside like a child and, when we reach his vehicle, I break down completely, and cry like a baby on his shoulder.

Later, on our way home, I’m better, lighter than I’ve felt in years, and unable to stop grinning like an idiot.

“I should have come home sooner.”

“Nah,” Clint’s smile is bittersweet. “Up until last week she still would have torn you apart; that’s how I knew it was time, she finally wanted to make amends.”

“I’m sorry about the house, I’ll put you on the deed too-”

“Don’t worry about it, Bean. I have my home, just do what she wants and move back, please?”

I chew my bottom lip, I can’t answer that right now. I have a life in Seattle; okay, it revolves around work and a small group of acquaintances, but it’s still my life. If I moved back I’d be settling right back into my old life, my old friends... there would be no way in hell I’d be able to continue to avoid my past. But Mom’s words echo through my head, and it’s her fucking dying wish. After my entire life wanting the woman’s approval and love, I’d do damn near anything now that I had it.

“I have to think about it.”

Clint nods, dropping the subject. After a few more minutes he pulls into the local grocery store parking lot. “Well,” he grins, reaching across me and grabbing his wallet from the glove box. “Now that Steve’s let the cat out of the bag, come help me grab supplies for the barbecue, I have no idea what hipsters from Seattle like to eat.”

“Ha Ha,” I grumble, but follow him anyway.

By that evening there’s paper lanterns strung across the backyard and a few dozen people are milling around, grazing at the snack bowls and standing in loose groups, drinking and talking. I recognize most of them, went to school with half of them, and am being dragged around by either Clint or Steve, depending on who’s manning the grill at the time, being introduced to the rest. Nat and Lou are surrounded by cooing women and Wanda is reclining in an outdoor chaise lounge, Sam waiting on her hand and foot, to my endless amusement.

I’m actually feeling quite relaxed, my second Dirty Corona going down way too easily and thoughts that this could be my new normal flitting casually through my head when it all comes crashing down.

“Levi.”

There’s only one person who calls me that, pronouncing it like ‘when the levee breaks’ and there’s only one person whose voice gives me chills, even after all these years. I take a deep breath, steeling myself and turn around.

“Bucky.”

#bucky barnes #au bucky barnes #sebastian stan #avengers #bucky and nika #bucky and lev

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velvet-tread · 6 years

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Multishipping Bellarke and Becho: a guide

I know I said I wasn’t going to be here, butttttttt things are getting crazy here and apparently I want to cut my followers down to zero so here goes.

Look, guys, ok I know the vast majority of you are on a scale of ambivalent to nuking North Korea when it comes to Becho and *FINE* I understand why. The Bellarke fandom wants Bellarke (not unreasonable!) so one half of your otp in a relationship galls.

But I love Becho even though I am Bellarke af and honestly the view is GREAT from here and I would love to share some of that good feeling around.

Seeing Bellamy and Echo in what is clearly a very happy and content (yet doomed!) relationship, is basically the most beautiful bittersweet thing to happen to me since Jason chose to serve my own heart up to me on a plate with ai gonplei ste odon atop the satellite tower *sob*.

So I’m going to have a crack at some of the whys and wherefores of Becho and address how it could fit our Bellarke endgame.

My opinions, ok? I’m not trying to convert anyone, just spread some love.

Why put Bellamy in a long-term relationship at all?

Mostly, I think the answer is in the narrative shorthand the show is using to help us navigate the time jump, and the people Bellamy and Clarke are now. And who is that? Well, we don’t know the whole picture yet but one thing is for sure: Bellamy and Clarke have had a relatively content 6 years. They’re OK. Changed, yes, for a variety of reasons, but psychologically sound compared to, say, the people in the bunker.

Sure, there are some things missing from their lives - I’ll get to the nitty gritty of that later on - but I think we’re supposed to believe that they are more or less happy and healthy and whole.

So, I guess the question is, what does happy and whole Bellamy look like? Not only am I Bellarke af, but I am also a Bellamy stan to the core. In the context of a 6 year time jump, I want nothing for him but contentment, appreciation and nookie on the regular. And it seems that against the odds, this has happened for Bellamy Bradbury Blake. In the relative safety of space, in the company of his newfound space family, his impulse to slavishly attend to the everyday needs of his sister curtailed, Bellamy has actually, finally, taken 6 years for himself.

At his core Bellamy is an affectionate person, with a deep need for personal connection and intimacy. And, clearly, he’s attracted to girls and sex is high on his list of needs too (do we all need to be reminded of pre-Bree Bellamy and post-Bree Bellamy in s4?) so the idea of him in space for 6 years deprived of that emotional and physical intimacy just makes me sad. And so, the shot of his and Echo’s quarters with their double bed, the TV in the corner, the punchbag above the bed (*raised eyebrow*) the shelving unit with 68 canteens on (why Becho, why?) is so heartwarming in its mundane domesticity. It shouted to me: BELLAMY IS OKAY.

Indulge my singing emo heart for a hot second. They clearly appreciate each other. He runs his hands up and down her arms. She strokes his jaw. THEY ARE SO SOFT. She soothes his Octavia anxiety. His terrible dad jokes make her laugh and ease her tension. These two people who have spent a life time pleasing others are happy making each other happy.

Oh, and he is JAW-DROPPINGLY NAÏVE.

Watching Bellamy in a comfortable space relationship with someone who hurt him so badly in the past deliver this bizarro rose-tinted expectation of his feisty, judgemental sister suggests that in his mind, everything about his life on Earth is hued in gold. This is a Bellamy who, surrounded by his friends and safety, has forgotten the grim realities of survival, of human frailty and human cruelty.

*foghorn* IT DOESN’T MEAN HE’S FORGOTTEN CLARKE OR DOESN’T LOVE HER ANYMORE. *end foghorn*

In fact, Bellamy finding love with Echo is just about the biggest endorsement of everything that Clarke stood for when she gave him her dying words of wisdom.

This Bellamy has absorbed all of Clarke’s glorious idealism, her ability to forgive, her faith in humanity, her faith in her own agency, her faith that whatever the problem is, there’s a solution. This is what head-and-heart Bellamy looks like.

Finally…realtalk time: I may choke on these words as I type them, but the truth about storytelling is that if you have an endgame ship in mind (and I stfg I refuse to be gaslighted on this any longer) and a 6 year time jump in which they believe each other dead, it would be straight up BIZARRE not to have one of them come back in a long-term relationship. No matter what the writers’ room says about Bellarke or love triangles, that is a conflict opportunity that is too delicious to pass up. It’s what Satan would do.

But whhhhhyyyy does it have to be Echo?

Sidebar - I’m not going to get in too deep with the forgiveness question, because we’ve all been over it many a time. My take on it is that forgiveness is something you do for yourself, not for someone else and is not the same as justice – especially when both people involved have things to answer for. For what it’s worth, the show’s take on it seems to be similar (hi Jake Griffin), so I see no reason why this is a problem in terms of tone or characterisation.

Anyone who knows me at all knows that I love Echo, and have a gazillion thoughts about what her arc could or should be this season. But ultimately, this show is about Bellamy and Clarke, so it’s worth looking at this in terms of what this means for Bellamy’s character.

Basically: this is a question of impact. Echo represents the furthest possible point for Bellamy’s character development in the context they’ve given him (7 people in space for 6 years). Echo hurt him, but she also represents all the terrible things that he has done himself, all of which he’s been grappling with for the past 2 seasons. So for him to be in a place where he forgives her enough to actually like her and then forge an intimate connection with her – that says more about how far he’s come in terms of forgiveness of others and self-forgiveness than, say, a relationship with Raven.

It doesn’t mean he’s ruined (and seriously, is this the 17th century?) or it’s out of character. It means he’s taken Clarke’s lessons to heart.

How am I supposed to be invested in this relationship if I haven’t seen the start of it?

Well, I’ve been shipping Becho ever since she spat in his face in MW prior to their joint murder so I mayyy be biased but I would say we’ve been watching their relationship evolve for some time. No, we don’t get to see the point where forgiveness tipped into intimacy, but having been watching them forever it’s not a leap for me to headcanon the rest.

I get that it is a stretch for others but here’s the thing: I don’t think the show is asking us to be invested in Bellamy and Echo because they should be together forever. The show is asking us to be invested in the peace and stability they found in space, literally in a vacuum, of which Becho is a product.

But if they’re going to split up, what’s the point?

Becho is the perfect illustration of the fragility of peace and human co-operation, which is in turn such a core theme of the show imo. What Bellamy and the rest of the Spacekru achieved was an environment in which even Becho can forgive and flourish, find love and softness. That’s the goal. But this isn’t that universe. Bellamy and Echo were at odds on Earth because the reality of life there is messy, complicated and frightening.

Echo, bless her, knows that very few things are permanent, even the love of a good man. She lost Azgeda, why would she trust anything in her life to be constant after that? But this forgiving, idealistic, measured, comfortable, Clarke-like Bellamy is in for a shock.

You’re not expected to be sad about the demise of Becho because Bellamy and Echo lose each other, but because Becho represents an unsustainable level of stability and comfort that just doesn’t play in this universe. Much like Clarke and Lexa before them, they’ll have to let go of the dream of a world in which their relationship is possible and I for one will ache for them.

I’m going to say here too that I think in contrast to Becho, I think Bellarke could survive in any environment. It was forged out of crisis – as Eliza says, they’re in each other’s DNA. They just have to work out what that means.

Why is it good for Bellarke?

Let’s push aside all my Bellarke shipper reasons for wanting a happy and whole Bellarke to be the people they reconnect with and find lasting love. And the fact that Clarke, too, has experienced a doomed love affair and I want my tragedy babies to be on an equal footing and commonality when they finally get their shit together.

Let’s also push aside the angst potential of Bellamy and Clarke reuniting when one of them has a long-term partner, which makes up the tense character-focused storytelling this show is famous for.

Because, narratively speaking, the way this has been set up is just so Bellarke-centric I cannot even. Bellamy’s life – including his relationship with Echo - and Clarke’s life are the missing puzzle pieces for one another. Bellamy is

happy

but there are a few things he misses. He misses Octavia, who is practically his own child, and he yearns to be back on the ground with her. And like the rest of Spacekru, he misses the variety of living on Earth eating more than just algae. And guess what? Clarke, who is also

happy

has both of those things. She has a fulfilling parental relationship with a child. She has abundance. But what doesn’t she have? She misses her friends and family, and adult company. I’m going to go ahead and assume she also misses the comfort and intimacy of a physical romantic relationship too, because we’ve seen her enjoy those things before. Both of which Bellamy has. When those pieces unite, when Bellarke reunite, the puzzle becomes complete.

#searching for these gifs though #my feels are on fire #bellarke #becho #clexa #YES FUCK IT I'M TAGGING CLEXA DON'T @ME #the 100 #the 100s5 #the 100 s5 meta

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markwatkinsconsumerguide · 4 years

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Consumer Guide / No.97 / Oxford Mail journalist Andy Ffrench talking books and records with Mark Watkins.

MW : Tell me about yourself...

AF : I’m Andy Ffrench and I live and work in Oxfordshire. I’ve been a newspaper journalist for over 30 years and I’ve been lucky enough to work for my current paper, the Oxford Mail for over two decades.

I live with my wife and three children in Abingdon. When I’m not working I enjoy playing old records, watching football – I had to give up playing when I kept getting injured – and reading crime novels. Ian Rankin’s Rebus thrillers have always been a favourite as it’s a great way to be in Edinburgh without actually visiting. There are lots of fantastic crime writers out there – Cara Hunter and Olivia Kiernan are both Oxford-based authors, so I have enjoyed interviewing them about their latest stories.

I’ve bought hundreds of second-hand books over the years and love going to Hay-on-Wye where there must be about 40 different bookstores – such a big variety and you can lose yourself for days there. It’s been a family tradition over the years to camp there for the Hay Festival and it’s been a big thrill to see and meet some of my favourite authors and performers over the years including Clive James and Billy Bragg.

MW : How did you get into record collecting?

AF : I started buying records when I was a kid – I was probably about 10 when I bought my first single, Brian and Michael’s Matchstalk Men – it’s not cool to say that but of course I bought Oliver’s Army too and Blondie’s Sunday Girl so my choices were varied.

From quite a young age I got hooked on hearing a tune on the radio – usually Radio Luxembourg – and then going to the record shop later to buy the single. In those days back in the late 70s singles would only cost about £1 and if I skipped school dinners I could buy the latest Two Tone release, or David Watts by The Jam.

Funnily enough, 40 years on you can still pick up singles for £1 a go, or maybe even 50p each, in charity shops, record shops, or the market and the thrill hasn’t gone of picking up a great Motown tune, or I Can’t Explain by the Who, for almost nothing.

So, singles remain my first love when it comes to vinyl and at some point I graduated to LPs – I’ve got hundreds of singles and hundreds of albums and from time to time I sell a few albums because I know more will be coming and I don’t want the house to feel too overcrowded.

The first album I owned was Parallel Lines by Blondie and that still gets a play followed shortly after by ELO’s Discovery.

MW : What are some of your favourite items in your collection?

AF : The albums I played at university : so Rattlesnakes & Easy Pieces by Lloyd Cole; Infidels by Bob Dylan; This Is The Sea & A Pagan Place by The Waterboys; Steve McQueen by Prefab Sprout; Love by Aztec Camera AND The Wishing Chair & In My Tribe by 10,000 Maniacs – must be among my favourites, PLUS the records I bought before I went to college.

I’ve still got the singles I bought when I was a kid – Madness, The Jam, Costello, The Undertones and I’ve even written my name on some of them!

Also, favourites are records that have been given to me by record dealers or by fellow vinyl lovers on Twitter such as this guy (Jim McCormack) in Scotland who sent me his spare copy of Sulk by the Associates when I mentioned I had owned it once and lost it over the years.

MW : ...still seeking?

AF : The chase is sometimes better than the kill if you enjoy buying second-hand records in record shops – I very rarely buy online.

I’m still in the market for a vinyl copy of Dylan’s Oh Mercy and Last Of The True Believers by Nanci Griffith – and a lot more – some are albums I have lost or sold over the years. I’m looking forward to returning to Riverman Records in Oxford when it reopens – that’s my favourite.

http://www.rivermanrecords.co.uk/

MW : You mentioned books at the start of this Q & A, so who are your favourites?

AF : Anything by Ian Rankin, Cara Hunter, Olivia Kiernan, Graham Greene and Haruki Murakami.

MW : What's the allure of buying second-hand books?

AF : As previously said, I love going to Hay-on-Wye and there’s a place in Derbyshire called Scarthin Books which I would happily go back to.

http://www.scarthinbooks.com/

You can lose yourself in these places and always come out with something good. Picking out first editions for 50p or £1 in charity shops and then selling them on can be fun and it’s do-able if you’ve got a good eye but it’s pretty time-consuming.

MW : Have you ever found any interesting inscriptions in your book purchases?

AF : I’ve got a copy of part of Graham Greene’s acclaimed biography by Norman Sherry which is signed by the author’s wife. I got her to sign it when I landed an exclusive interview with her about 20 years ago – I’m keeping that one!

MW : Football is also a passion of yours...

AF : I’ve watched a lot of football games over the years and once had a Newcastle United season ticket for the Gallowgate when I lived up there in the 1990s.

Also, spent a lot of time watching Tranmere Rovers at Prenton Park when I worked on the Wirral. Don’t get to so many games now but love watching Champions League on BT Sport with my sons.

MW : How are you finding the current lockdown / social distancing restrictions due to coronavirus?

AF : As a journalist I can work from home most days. It’s difficult and I would much rather be in the office or doing interviews face-to-face ; putting together a daily paper is a team game, but we are all trying to manage as best we can in the crisis which I hope will be over soon.

One way to alleviate the tension is to continue posting records on Twitter and talking to like-minded vinyl obsessives.

I’ve been doing that for about a year now and it’s such a lovely online community of guys and women out there who have the same interest – it’s very rare that anyone gets snippy on there.

I have tried to start something called “Singles Sunday” which is pretty self-explanatory. It’s led to some amazing singles collections being brought down out of the loft. The thread each week really takes off and I’m seeing picture covers I’ve never seen before.

It’s one day at a time at the moment but playing the records and sharing them on Twitter definitely helps.

There’s also an online radio show by a guy called Simon Philo on Radio Free Matlock I really enjoy called the Sweet Spot which plays power pop – think Back Of My Hand by The Jags.

https://radiofreematlock.co.uk/

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throwbacktears · 6 years

Text

i literally just had THE MOST terryifyinh dream and my whole body is numb like i can move but its tingling and i cant go back to sleep anymorebc of how petrified i am

it was about me waljing on campus to my doem but it was in a nieghborhood/city setting and then i slowly see these cops accumulate like its nothing and the scene suddenly changes to night time and i look back and everything is in slow motion and all of a sudden i see a guy with a gun (he loooks scared) from the other aide of the street walking across and hes looking eight arvthe cops and he nervously pulls out the gun and i hesr screMs around me already and somehow i immediately dive into the ground james bond style so im looking back ar whats happening still and he shooys but doesnt get anyone and he gets more confident and shoots again and i can see the light in the gun when thebuller fries but it doest hit anyone and the cops spring into action ad try shooting him but then he runs down the street and disappears. one cop car chases after him. im on yhe grounsvthinking to nyself oh my goah, i just witnessed and survived a shooting but tHen a guy is walking up the same sidewalk as i was a couple minutes ago wearing a jean hacket black skinnies and shoes a buzzcut ans a sinister hard look on his face and i juts know he has a gun and he looks like hes ready to kill no emotion on his face other than bent up hollow anger and my eyes wifen as soon as i see him swiftly take the gun out of his picket and confidently points it at the cops and immediatelt things get more chaotic than before and its all in slow motion again but its like i hear nothing evergying starts to sound muffled and blocked like in the movies to the point wheee i can only hear the pull of the tirgger and the gunshot and hes shooting everywehre and somehow there was this cardboard cutout shielding mw idk how it tot there but he shoots and it misses me just barely and hen the guy stops and gets in his car and drives off

i try waling back to my dorm shaken that i just survived two shootings. i go home to my mom in a small but really nice LA modern looking home w white brown furtniture with succulents and shes chopping veggies and i tell her about everything and we walk outside togwther just for whatever all of a sudden idk i guess cus she wantsd to i felt v hesitant to go out but i waa like itso ger its fine dont be afraid so we walk out its birhgt and sunny like the movies people are strolling the neighborhood too ud never kno anythinf bad happened so my mom and i are talking about it for a lil but then she moves on and as we wait to cross the street (of the same two sidewalks where either gunman came from) all of a sudden i seee the fricking car of the second gunman come out of the blacktop where children play. everytging seems fine since the kids are still playing basketball and the playgorund seems fine but i freeze in fear bc i see him putting on tloves in his car and then he anggeily but swiftly turns and druves diwn the road in a sligtly dirty but clean lighr hlue 80s car like my neighhors have from my hometown. then the coast is clear for ppl to cross so my momabd i cross the streest same time as othee ppl as if jothing happened but once we’re at the other wide and startvwalking up the jill to the blacktop and the driveway the gunman juts drove off from i grav har arm and sat quietly mom i just saw the gunman and she said what and i said we have to go

it didnr immediatslt occur to me that he was after my mom i had the feelingbut i didnt know for aure until we were back home and my friend fdom high school was there (a girl that was nice to me and were aqcuantines but jothing swrious so it aas weird in hindsighr) waiting for my mom and me for tutoring help and just hanging out and my mom just goes back into the kitchen and sits on the tanle w her laptop and says wow its a good thing we left then huh and i still remember watchig him drive down the road secondsbefore so i try to shake off ny trauma and my friend goes omg u will not believe what i went thru today amd i was like u qanna bwt? i just survived 2 ahootings and i saw one of them drive down the street jyst know (i alao remembered when i saw him w my mom i needed to get his license plate just so he wont hurt my mom or anyone else so i snapped 2 terrible photos of the backplate but theyre forner pics so u only get one or two lettees from the top right and thebottom left) and then i suddenly hesr banging on the door of this guy and I GO COLD abd my mom greezes and my friend doesnt say anyting and he just keeps banging and says “HEY can u PLEASE open Up i just have to ask a qhick QUESTION” ovee and over again but he gets increasingly aggresive w the door (banging and trying to unlick it. we hearx him twisting the knob a lot) as we dont andwer and he just starts goinng CMON i just gave a QUICK question and HEY open the DOOR p LEASE and in a panic i violently whisper MOM WE HAVE TO GO COME ON and i get angry when ivsee her just slowly slip out of her chair im like ars uvfreaking kididmg me thsi is life or death rn why are u moving so slow and i push past my friend and unlock the backdoor and we try to silently walk downcthe strest w/o him seeing or hearing us and i suddenly remember i have a picture of his rull lifense plate from google bc i looked it up when i coyldnt get a good pic ans hes committed oher crimes so thne i piece the number andcrecognize they match w my pictures and i swiftly take my lhone from my pocket and call 911 as calmly as i can and thet ask whata my emergency andvthen i can hear the tunman tuen around as we walked down the sidewalk of our neighboorhood b4 we get to the makn road where everything happened and he shouts HEY and then my mom and my friend cry and screech in my ear bc of the approaching gunman and idk whathe wantscw my mom it freaked me out someone went after slmeone i love so mych and ivwas talking to 911 aw the guy got close but i was like this is a dream thisi s too real this is too real i hwve to waleu p now and i DID and it was only 6:30 or 6:49 or 6:50 AM and its 7:11 bow and my bones are still bent ovwe this

#i tried tovwrite in as much detail as i could bc after i woke up i realized how i could turn it into a story bc it sohnds like such a moviw #but even then i was abd am still PRTRIFIED #mytext #ive never done this before but i even looked up what dreams abkut gunmancmean #abd it basically says fear of the consequences of a very important lifechanging and big secision #and it freaked me lut because it perfectly dit w what ive been worryng about the day or nighr beforw i slept last nigbr #i was lowkey worried about if i ahould text back my ex or not on his bday bc i still remember it but that could open yp or close so maby #things and idk if its worth it and i came to the fonclusion its not but i still dreamt hat i dreamt #but i think ym dream had more to do with fear over my chem and spanish exam bc if i failed either or both that would mean ill fail the class #class and i only have thd final left but tat is terrible for its own reasons to try to savage my grade by the final #especially chem #ao yeah add thatcto why im atill so spooked almost 25 min later !!

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accessthearts · 5 years

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First LKG Pop Up

Edited Oct. 13

PRESENT: A Bronx Tale, segunda capitulo September 15 – November 3, 2019

STUDIO EXHIBITION: September 15 Noon – 4PM RSVP Required CURATORS: Deborah Cullen, Executive Director, Bronx Museum of the Arts Elizabeth Dee, CEO & Co-Founder of Independent Art Fair Akeem Duncan, Editor at Large, Quiet Lunch Patrick Rowe, Director of Education, Bronx Museum of the Arts Melinda Wang, MW Projects, Curator Laura James, BX200, Founder & Artist

Exhibit day!! A Bronx Tale opened on Sunday, September 15th in Brunker, a neighbourhood I grew up in in the Bronx. My mom really loved this area because it was so quiet, my father would say behind her back that the area was eerily desolate as it was off of the freeway and surrounded by warehouses. I lived in Brunker from 2nd - 4th grade.

On this day however an Uber coming from Amanda’s midtown apartment carried us, Fala along with the materials to be posted and passed out at the start of the event to The Bronx Tavern. Materials like the names of each artist, directional areas, map of the neighbourhood showing the location of each exhibit, the RSVPs and a goody bodega bag curated by one of the artist with box water, pins, and postcards.

Three tables in the back of The Bronx Tavern on 133rd st and Brunker Blvd acted as our exhibitions check in point. Here you would come in and give Latchkey Gallery, primarily Natalie, your name so she would find which curation group you were randomly assigned to. Natalie was the other CEO who we had met for the first time on this day. She was kind but stern. She was a tall, light skinned woman wearing a green pants suite. It was reliving to see her in colors as Amanda and Fala both were in black and I worried I missed the all black memo. I think the black is a matter of preference on exhibit day but I could see how it might be potentially beneficial because it makes you more identifiable as support stuff but I also feel like my badass colourful outfits are apart of my qualifications for this job. I hope Natalie feels the same way.

The curation groups were guided by professionals in the field who have elected to partner with Latchkey Gallery to curate a tour experience of the Bronx Tale exhibition. It appeared to me that the roughly 6 partners came from institutions Latchkey Gallery had some affiliation to. These guides appeared to be from various institutions with a portion coming from the Bronx Museum. This was a big deal to Natalie and Amanda that the head of the Bronx Museum would do a curated exhibit of pieces and so they directed me to follow her tour group so that I could capture their experience for an instagram post.

While following around said tour group I found that there seemed to be a nice dynamic between the mix of people who varied from 6- 60 in age, a few more woman than men, poc and non poc folks who all seemed to be able bodied / did not request any additional accommodation. Which was fortunate as one building was not handicap accessible, another did have an elevator and I did not get the chance to visit the last studio.

While watching the tour group in Renee Cox studio I noticed an interesting critic on the way mothers are treated in the art world. Renee Cox told the group about how when she was pregnant, as a POC woman she would not longer be looked in the eyes at her place work in the Whitney so she created a massive cast statue of her nude pregnant body and held in the centre of the Whitney. She also fiercely makes eye contact in an icon photograph of her pregnant nude. Simultaneously as she spoke of taking back power as a woman and mother Renee Cox chastised a mother who was letting her 6 year old wander about the space. Renee Cox said she was “ supervised” , which I guess is true but the girl seemed just a bit art curious and the embarrassed mother now had her attention taken from the art topic, with no consideration to her accessibility to child care. The mother and daughter seemed to overall very much enjoy the guided tour.

I was happy to see all of the artist were of color and feel that it probably has to do with their studio being in the Bronx. The Bronx has done a wonderful job shooing the white people away.

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conniefelicia · 7 years

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Him.

Hello, it’s been a while. I hope whoever read this have a great day.

There are a lot of events that have been going on since the last time. And this is one of them. I will remember him for the rest of my life.

This story isn’t a fairytale. It’s imperfect and tragic.

It all begins, a year ago. May 27th, 2016. We met on the bar. I was with my ex-boyfriend and his friends, we introduced ourselves as we drank. I didn’t have any attention at all that time when I saw him. But all I know is that he is super tall and funny. We drank all night then I got a bit tipsy so we just dance and dance. My ex wasn’t really happy about it. He was pissed the whole time. We started to follow each other on social media since that night.

But life goes on, we never contact each other again.

One day, he unfollowed me on Instagram. And it’s strange. But I was like, okay, whatever. Maybe he forgot about me.

And so life continues…my ex surprise me on my 20th birthday on July, then after that day we never keep in touch anymore. Because I wanted to get rid of his negativity out of my life and that I’ve found someone else who can love me better than him.

Short story, I dated another new Guy for around three months but we never actually fit to each other, we did not fight as much, because I chose not to speak up when something is wrong. When I’m in the middle of this shitty relationship, he messaged me on Path. Yes, him.

He explained everything. And now it becomes clear to me that he has a long-term girlfriend. Around two years or so and still together, even back then when I met him for the first time. They’re on a long distance relationship. Hell. That even explains more. The reason why he unfollowed me on Instagram and other social media is not according to his own will. But his girlfriend’s. She blocked every potential girl she could find interesting for him. Overly possessive much kinda girlfriend, huh? But I get it. She’s just too afraid of losing him maybe, I thought. But she’s doing it in a wrong way.

After since that day, we talk and talk every single day for weeks. He calls me every night and he never fails to put a smile on my face. It was such a relief from stress that I encountered from my relationship at that time. Don’t get me wrong, yes, I do feel guilty, he has a girlfriend and I have a boyfriend. We shouldn’t be talking to each other so often. Cheating is cheating. But he makes me happy, and that is something valuable for me. He, on the other hand, often fighting with his girlfriend, they argue a lot. And maybe that’s why we feel so comfortable to each other and creating strong bond. One time he broke up with his girl, she said that she doesn’t want him anymore and stuff. I was in tears to know that. I don’t know why, but I do care so so much for him. I don’t want him to be depressed. It’s just too hard to know. So I was there for days.

It didn’t last long.

Just around 2-3 weeks of everyday talking and calling/video chatting, in the middle of deep conversation, he disappeared. Just like that.

On that same day, I finally have the courage to broke up with my boyfriend through pretty long talk. I cried.

I tried my best to call him. But he didn’t pick up my phone.

From that moment, I knew something is terribly wrong. The next day I tried to text him again but still, no sign. My brain just couldn’t stop thinking about him. Where is he? Is he okay? Is he and his girl got back together again? He’s not sick right? Omg please be fine.

I wait. And wait. Every night I cry and calling out his name. Why he do this to me?

But few days later, I found on his path that he is with his girlfriend. So, at least now I know. The reason why he just vanished. What an asshole. But it’s okay, I thought to myself, as long as he is happy then I am too. I won’t bother their relationship no more. Along the way, I stumbled, and fall. I went looking for someone to numb my pain. Losing a boyfriend and a best friend at the same time is indeed a pain in the ass. I met strangers on the club, get high, and ruining myself, I was stressed out. I was lost. But the pain never go away, this type of release is temporary. And the after effect sucks. I get more and more pain and loneliness.

But I have to gain my strength again and get the fuck up. My life won’t stop here. Not just yet.

Months and months pass by, ups and downs. I’m trying my best to survive. And I think I did. I’m stronger than before. I live my life. I am happy without a boyfriend. I made promise to myself, 2017 is the year of no serious relationship. It’s been a frustrating life of always being haunted by insecurities and mentally abused in a relationship. I've had enough. I need to be alone at least for now, to improve myself. I have plans for my future, but I live in the moment. I cherish every single details of it. I have only one life, average human lifespan is only at 79 years anyway.

So everything is fine, right?

Not really. He contacted me again, after couple months later. I wasn’t sure how to react, I do miss him, but upset too. He can’t just leave me like that without explanation and had me wondering, worrying for nights. But his explanation is valid as ever, turns out, his girl went to see him suddenly and staying at his house. So he couldn’t reach me and he feels really really sorry about it. He admits how sorry he was, and somehow he told me that not a day goes by without him thinking of me. And that makes me feel something.

We’re starting to talk again anyway, and it gets more intense. We get super close, and even develop feelings towards each other. I don’t know how. We all know, this is a love affair. I realized that, and I just want to die. He has a girlfriend, and I’m just his side chick. I know, it sounds so naïve of me. I just know that we won’t work. But we just go with it. At least what I feel is real, and I’ve never been so in love with someone far away without even seeing each other in person since the first meeting. He isn’t that cute, but he is funny and somewhat attractive to me now. I love seeing his face and his voice. For the first time, I never want anyone else this big but him. I just want him. I want to hug him to kiss him to feel him in my arms and never let him go away. I want to live with him. I don’t know how much he feels for me but all I know is that he loves me too. He doesn’t want me to see other boys, go to club, do bad things. He cares about me and he explains well why he forbids me to do so.

However, I know that he will eventually marry that girl, not me.

I obey most of his rules but then this brain starts to saying things like, who are you anyway? Who is he anyway? He has a girl. Is it unfair that he can have both girls at the same time? what a jerk! Fuck it. Just live your life the way that you want. So I went to club once without his acknowledge.

Back to the story, we still call every day and he told me that he wanted to come here, in Jakarta just to meet me again. He promised that he would be here in the middle of February 2017.

But he never did.

You see, all those great times we’ve been together online, we laugh, we share. But he’s the type of guy who will not tell any internal/personal shits to other people, even his closest friends. He told me that you can never trust anyone because you don’t know how long your relation with them will stay, once you crash, you’re done. Secret exposed. And I totally respect his decision. I never ask about his personal life with his girl. Since I already know that he won’t tell anyway. But it is sad. I can’t help him, I can’t do anything when he is fighting with his girl. I feel like a useless piece of crap.

This affair can’t be known. I’m hiding a secret and it’s not nice at all. It’s like carrying a dead body in your bag then you go to school with it. Alright, maybe I exaggerated. But you get the point.

Now back to the reason why he didn’t make it to Jakarta. This part is pretty fucked up. Trust me. Just when you thought this whole love affair is bad enough, think again.

Monday, February 13th 2017, he asked me how I feel for him. So I explained in long paragraph. See down below as I copy the chat I sent to him.

“Km org yg bkin ak baper disaat aku orgny jarang cpt baper, awalny ak cm sekedar interest but ga ad pemikiran apapun buat penasaran sm km pgn dketin ato apa, aku pikir awalnya oh ya udah, cm stranger yg ketemu sekali di bar, mau harap apa? Dia jg pst lupa sama aku anyway. But time goes by, lost contact. Then km tb2 hubungin aku disaat aku lg stress dan di dalam suatu hubungan yang berantakan, and for that moment, i feel happy. Ak merasa lega oh ternyata kamu itu orgnya kayak gini, he has character, he is funny, oh, dia care bgt. And somehow idk why dari situ mulai develop feelings. Tp blm banyak. Then u left me, aku nangis waktu tidur, tapi habis itu aku sadar, kamu punya kehidupan kamu sendiri. Km udh punya pacar yg serius, aku gak bs apa2 dan bukan siapa2 kamu. Aku gak duga kalo km blg km baper sm aku, krn aku gak show my feelings at all to u sejak awal, biasa2 aja cm tmn ngbrl. Yasudah. It grows. Aku jd sayang sm kamu. Which is stupid. Aku tau aku bodoh, sayang sm org yg bukan punyaku, yg ud pasti gak akan milih aku. Aku merasa bersalah Aku sedih. Aku gaenak. Tp aku berusaha ya ignore itu pemikiran negatif semua, let it flow. Kamu byk bkin aku belajar, dikasih nasihat2 yg gak aku duga itu bs keluar dr kamu. Im sorry… klo aku udh bkin km tertekan terus menyulitkan kamu. Aku jg gatau hrs gmn, ak bnr syg sm km cm ak gbs apa2, but it’s ok Pertanyaan km, “km anggep aku apa skrg?” Ak anggep km sbg my super super bestest friends yang aku sayang pk bgt maaf lebay, gak mau liat km sedih, gk mw liat km dijahatin orang, pkokny all the best for you. Please just be happy, no matter where when who you are with💕”

So it ends there. Then he called me. That night, he told me that he was arguing before with his girl. And I kinda insist him to tell what the hell is going on. What is happening? I just feel something is not right here and I need to know. Turns out,

his girl is pregnant.

“SHIT.”

That was the first word that came out of my mouth as soon as he told me about the news. I am beyond speechless. I have nothing to say. I just don’t know how to react.

“Are you su..sure?”

“Are you sure it is yours?”

“When did it happen?”

“How many months?”

I just have so many questions but my legs are shaking. My stomach feels like they’re about to explode. My heart is beating rapidly like a drum. Holy fuck. Why. She’s late for two weeks. I told him to see a doctor for professional help. And that she will come to check. She will meet him on February 16th. This, is going to be my last day to keep in touch with him before they meet.

I feel terrible. I feel numb. I don’t want to lose him just yet. At least what I feel for him is real. I want to be there for him even though he is in a really awful situation right now. I promise to carry this secret with me for him.

I’ve seen so many stories similar to this, married by accident and some shits. But to actually be a part of it, it’s devastating. My heart broke into gazillion pieces right now. I can’t bear watch him suffer. Maybe he is in love with me but he knows that it can’t be happening. He is soon to be a father. Can you imagine that?

I just hope for all the best for him, he needs to be strong. And I believe he can. The future is unknown. But I would like to tell my children one day, about him. About how much I love him, and I will always do. No matter what, I will always remember him till the end of my life. Someone that is never be mine. I wish I had the chance to be with him in this life. I will never forget our first and last meeting, Felix.

“In another life, I would be your girl.”-Katy Perry, The One That Got Away.

Finally, he left me again for the second time. No matter how hard I tried to prepare myself for the last day, I can never be ready. But I have to.

May we cross our path again soon if the odds be ever on our favor.

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