#Clark ended up driving the overflow

[too0bsessedformyowngood]

Batfam incorrect quotes pt. 6 (with some Young Justice, Titans, and other heroes thrown in there for pizzazz)

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5

-

Steph and Duke: *making animal crossing characters noises*

Tim: *Sitting silently on his computer*

Damian: “I’m going to kill everyone in this room except for Thomas”

Duke: *curling over trying to hide his laughing*

Damian: “Wait was is Thomas, not Drake?”

-

Cassie: “Who are you more afraid of, Freddie Fazbear, or your teammate?”

Bart: *mumbling* “My teammate”

Cassie: “Good”

-

Dick *at titans tower*: “being in the kitchen making dinner make me feel like ‘a single mom who works two jobs who has her kids and never stops’”

Gar: “it’s who loves her kids”

Dick: “No no, have is enough”

-

Duke: *over coms* “What if Jarjar’s name was actually Jojo, the person introducing him was just Australian”

Cass: “Horrible news”

Barbara: “You have lost speaking privileges”

-

Roy: “my emotional, mental, and physical health is all on thin ice”

Wally: “I aspire to have thick ice one day”

Roy: “I aspire to be the iceberg to someone else’s Titanic”

-

Damian: “Richard there is a creepy guy following me again”

Jason: *right behind Damian*

Jason: “You literally showed up outside my house yesterday”

-

Clark: *driving to Disneyland with six people in a five seater car, four are crammed into the backseat*

Clark: “All I want is a churro, all I wanted was a churro”

-

Robin Dick *passenger seat of the Batmobile*: “Why are there so many vans? And truck, but small truck not big truck, better than big truck”

Bruce *driving*: “Much better than big truck”

-

Tim: “So I was going down the hill on my skateboard, and I didn’t stop at the gate because I was going like 20mph and too afraid to stop. I thought “the grass will stop me,” but they were doing work on the grass, so there was rope all around. I realized I had three options, go under the rope, into the rope, or jump over the rope. I’m not going under because my neck, I’m not going into to I try to jump, but the thing is my jump is, *tiny jumps* wimpy. So I jump and run into the rope and my body went, *grabs a paper, folds in half.* The rope went forward and started pulling the metal rods holding it in, out of the ground and bent them. I then fell on my face. I was fine. I think I got a mild concussion though.”

-

Jason: “Being framed, been there, done that”

Barbara: “I don’t think you were framed very often, I think you just committed crimes Jason”

[92-guy]

Big-little spoon: Clark is not only bigger, but his more affectionate and protective personality drives him to protect those he loves, and Wanda, although at first she could pretend not to need him, would end up thirsty and invite him to hug her

Lends-borrow clothes: Wanda always steals Superman's loose shirts, sweatshirts, especially if they smell like him, they would be perfect for Wanda to use as home clothes.

Pet names: Wanda is more emotional and playful in relationships. Superman uses tender names, but in intimate moments.

Introverted-extroverted: Superman is an extrovert with a modest air. Wanda is an introvert with intense moments.

Affection through words-actions:

Superman: Actions (protect, hug, always be there).

Wanda: Mixture of both, but more emotional in words when she is comfortable.

Confession:

Superman: Wait longer, he's prudent and wants to be safe.

Wanda: She confesses first when her emotions overflow her.

Bugs:

Superman: Lets them out the window.

Wanda: It depends on the mood. If it's bad, it crushes them with telekinesis.

Car: Superman. He has more experience, and his sense of responsibility is strong.

Cooking: Wanda. He can do it magically in seconds, although Superman tries to help in the traditional way.

PDA: Wanda. When she feels safe, she clings to her partner with hugs and public caresses. Superman is more reserved in public.

Overprotective: Wanda, even who knows that nothing could harm Clark, she always worries about his safety

Relationship experience: Superman. She has been with Lois and in different relationships for years, while Wanda has had fewer serious relationships

[criticalrolo]

you are a heretic of the highest order - rejecting the Gods and claiming divine power by your own wits [listen]

Come Together - Gary Clark. Jr., Junkie XL

Someone told you it was the destiny of the Gods to return to the chaos they were born from, which doesn’t sound like such a bad idea to you.

Nobody Home - Pink Floyd

Your stomach is empty, your fingers are numb, and the roof over your head can’t keep out the rain. The chapel on the other side of town is overflowing with gold and warmth. 

Saint Bernard - Lincoln

Your parents thought giving you up to the church might give you a better chance in life, but saints and saviors don’t see you the way they imagined.

All Gone - Mother Mother 

Resentment can grow as quickly and deadly as a disease beneath your skin.

Haze - Tessa Violet

Other acolytes don’t see the world the way you do; the light of the Gods that pierces the veil in front of their eyes only drives you deeper inside yourself. 

Sleepwalk - Forrest Day

You are searching for something on your pilgrimage - you don’t know what it is, but you can feel it calling to you, churning in your chest, telling you that this is not all there is to the world. 

Грустная Сука - IC3PEAK

The voices told you they would show you ancient power beyond the capacity for your mind to understand. You should have recognized a warning. 

Dream Sweet in Sea Major - Miracle Musical

Welcome to the edge of the universe and the end of time!

Spring and a Storm - Tally Hall

There’s a certain beauty to having your consciousness shattered in the vastness of space before the Gods finally decide to intervene in your life.

Impress your Creators - Tub Ring

You’ve touched the elemental chaos that created the Gods, so what’s the real difference between you and them now? 

Terrible Things - Brick + Mortar

Brimming with divine power and a powerful vendetta can make you want to do such terrible and awesome things. 

Undisclosed Desires - Muse

You preach your own gospel now. People love to follow divinity. 

Evening On The Ground (Lilith’s Song) - Iron & Wine

Someone should tell these holy warriors sent to wipe you from the earth that you are your own weapon now.

Sacrilege - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Heretic. Apostate. Blasphemer. It’s sacrilege, what you are. 

Say Amen (Saturday Night) - Panic! At The Disco

You are surrounded by followers who hang onto your every word. You are attacked on all sides by the furious disciples of the Old Gods. Everyone prays for the souls of the wicked. Truth is what you make it. 

Goodbye To A World - Porter Robinson

The world could be beautiful without the Gods and their fanatical devotees. You think perhaps it’s time for everything to restart from the beginning. 

[puthyflapps]

Thot about Anya making one of those cheesy promposal signs for Raven. Her plan was to have the sign read, “prom with you would be out of this world” and there would be images of all things space covering the poster board –planets, stars, the whole nine yards. But she wasn’t exactly good at this artistic stuff. Her block letters were sitting rather crooked on the paper and the picture she’d drawn of the moon looked more like a chocolate chip cookie and the rocket ship...well, I shouldn’t say. All in all, it was a real eye sore.

She’d spent way too many hours working on this stupid thing and it was too late to make an emergency trip to the store for more poster board. So, Anya decides the best course of action at the moment is to just flip the board over and start fresh. Now, with a new, blank canvas she gets smart and enlists the last-minute help of her resources. God bless her sister for dating an artist, right?

With Clarke’s help, this thing actually looks presentable and Anya isn't entirely embarrassed to be seen standing outside of their school with it as she waits for her girlfriend to get out of her last class of the day. Anya and Raven were never ones for cliche high school rituals but this was their last prom together so she wanted to make it special. If that means Anya has to stand awkwardly in front of everyone with a giant, dorky sign then she would because Raven deserved to feel special.

The bell rings signifying the end of class and it makes Anya’s heart thump with a dizzying kind of excitement. She keeps her dark brown eyes trained on the doors of the school, searching for her girlfriend’s form. She notices a few familiar faces staring at her in a mix of shock and confusion. If this were any other day she would’ve sent a sharp scowl back their way as a reminder to fuck off but right now, she is too preoccupied with finding her girl. Another minute or so passes when the blonde finally catches a glimpse of a bright red jacket and she knows immediately, that’s her.

Her sweaty hands tighten their grip on the paper as she waits for the girl to get a little closer before hoisting it up in front of her chest for all to see. A few beats pass and Raven still hasn’t quite noticed yet. It leaves Anya momentarily second guessing herself. Maybe this was a dumb idea. What if Raven didn’t want some grandiose gesture for something as simple as a high school dance?However, before Anya’s thoughts can further spiral, she hears the warm voice of the girl she’s been waiting on call out.

“Oh my god!”

Raven’s bright smile is blindingly beautiful and the happy giggles that overflow from her lips are all the confirmation Anya needs to know she did the right thing. She visibly relaxes and it finally feels like she can finally breathe again but there’s still somewhat of an underlying nervousness clawing at her because Raven hasn’t said yes yet.

The brunette takes her time approaching her girlfriend; making sure to take a mental screenshot of this moment so she can tuck it away safely in her mind and revisit it for years to come. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much and although it doesn’t seem remotely possible, her smile seems to only grow wider the longer she stares at her adorable girlfriend. Anya doesn’t like to be the center of attention. She’s always been the back-of-the-class, silent observer type. So, to say this was a surprise would be an understatement because this display was certainly an attention grabber.

“Baby,” Raven says as all her words seem to fail her in that moment.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to prom with me.”

“Yes, of course,” she answers as her hands gently take hold of the sign so she can take an even closer look.

Honey brown orbs meticulously inspect every detail from the nerdy pun to the cute doodles strewn about the board.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” she declares and pauses briefly to rise on her tiptoes and place a sweet kiss on Anya’s thin lips before continuing.

“Did you get Clarke to help you?”

Raven asks sweetly as she notices the familiar art style. Personally, she thinks it’s rather cute that her girlfriend reached out to her best friend for help. The idea of the two working together is a little funny considering the two don’t have much in common besides their love for Raven.

“Yeah, blondie’s a little better at this art thing than I am. She drives a hard bargain though. I owe her like a week's worth of Starbucks for doing this,” Anya mutters in faux frustration.

“Aww, well hopefully it was worth it.”

“It definitely was.”

The two stare lovingly at one another for a moment; just basking in each other’s presence and the feeling of contentment.

“Can I keep it?”

Raven asks, her eyes darting down to the paper and back up to her girlfriend.

“It’s all yours. I just wouldn’t look at the back of it if I were you,” Anya replies as the tips of her ears tinge pink.

The brunette’s brows crease and her head tilts in confusion, prompting the blonde to explain.

“I tried to do it by myself at first but it didn’t turn out the way I hoped it would.”

Curiosity gets the best of the girl and she can’t stop herself from turning the poster over to see what has her girlfriend so flustered. On the back are colorful block letters of varying sizes that to someone else’s eye might be unsightly but, to Raven, are nothing shy of gorgeous. Perhaps her favorite part is the random sprinkling of stars throughout the page. They had been erased and redrawn several times if the faint smudges from what was most likely not the best eraser are anything to go on.

“I wish you would’ve used this side,” the shorter of the two says quietly causing the other girl to vehemently shake her head in opposition.

“It wasn’t good enough. I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“It is perfect,” Raven argues as her eyes trace over all of the girl’s haphazard pencil marks.

Anya presses a chaste kiss to the other girl’s head and chuckles softly, “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” Raven replies earnestly and honestly, “I love it.”

And really, she wasn’t lying. There was not so much as the faintest falsehood coating her words that day. That poster remained taped to her bedroom wall for the rest of the school year. Unsavory lettering and poorly drawn doodles on full display for all to see. Raven even brought it with her when the pair moved into their freshman dorm room despite some hesitance from Anya. When the couple moved into their first home together, she made Anya store it safely away in their attic so that one day, when it was time for their children to enjoy a prom of their own, Raven could proudly show them a little piece of their parents past.

[kneelbeforethecumbercollective]

I’ll Give You The Sun, Jandy Nelson.

This one came very close to becoming my new favorite book ever, but then the ending happened.... Endings are what I love most in stories and this one didn't do it for me. Don't know if it has to do with the fact that I'll Give You The Sun is a young adult, thus, the audience is expected to be a bunch of teenagers whom the author wanted to keep hopeful. In any case, the last hundred pages were a major disappointment to me. However, let's now talk about the loveliness of this book, shall we. First of all: the writing. Oh, my Clark Gable, as Jude and Grandma Sweetwine would declare had they read their story. From the very first pages the writing style is delicious. Yes, delicious, I felt I tasted the words more than I read them. Light, funny, colorful and powerful, this is certainly one of the best written books I've ever read. Before the downfall happened at the hands of Jude and Oscar, I'd hoped the book would never end. But then, after said downfall took place, I just started skipping pages. I was a lover betrayed, impatient to get it over with. In any case, I've quoted a lot of passages and am tempted to read other works by Jandy Nelson. Second of all: the story. Noah and Jude's perspectives being told through drastically different times means that you get past and present all at once, peeking into events through Jude only to understand them through Noah. The twins were particularly agreeable and so easy to like, the both of them ! It's the story of two siblings, essentially. They love each other more than anything, divide the world between themselves, would save each other first in case of disaster, feel for each other, live for each other, they're NoahandJude. But, the best part is that they're more than loving twins, they're also jealous twins who'll go miles into the rogue just so to sabotage the other's chances at winning over their mother. Love isn't always pure and beautiful, love can be devastating and ugly. Noah stepping on Jude's flying women until they're nothing more than sand and Jude's malicious attempt at keeping Noah out of CSA, both these ugly deeds don't lessen or alter the quality of love the twins have for each other. They were both so sure of the other's talent that they started to both feel threatened by each other. The rivalry, the on-going, off-going war between the two, that was one of my favorite bits for sure. Third of all: the characters. To me, before-the-tragedy-Noah symbolizes hunger for art, overflowing talent, unapologetic self-expression, innocent first rapports to others and to love. He's the gracious dove moving along clear waters with dozens of wolves ashore, those wolves would naturally be the asshats referred to by Noah, oh, so very often. In the other hand, Jude-after-the-tragedy shows how trauma can alter someone's personality in drastic manners. The once full of life, wild and flying-women-sculpting Jude becomes a shell of superstition and guilt. She imprisons herself within herself, with ghosts of her mum and granny for friends and a twisted hogwash bible for line of conduct. It was sad, but also very relatable. Perspectives, you don't get until you've gone through shit. And shit is most likely to happen to you in your teens, for afterwards, once you're an adult, that same shit that happens to you, you learn to call "life". Life is a succession of shitty, marvelous and ordinary. The trick is to grasp every bit of marvelous whilst it happens, living the present fully so to speak, in order to fill one's drive enough before one goes through the shittiness.   Guillermo was an interesting fella, indeed. Old age doesn't seem to show on him, his personality seems to have frozen time. He's a rainstorm of talent, has got a bubbly big bouncy broken heart that spills art in buckets and the fact that he likes to shelter crackled people under his wing makes him all the more likable to me. However, I would've had another angle regarding Diana's ghost and Guillermo and I really thought the author would go there. Unfortunately, she hasn't. Now, Oscar... I loved him, from the very first lines written about him I immediately fell head over heels for the English weirdo. Oh, how I wanted him and Jude to work it out. Buuuuuut, the working it out part came out soooooooooo cheesy and so corny it made me dislike him and Jude in a matter of a few pages. The downfall of I'll Give You The Sun, in my opinion, came with Oscar and Jude tying the red ribbon.

Well, in the end, I very much enjoyed the major part of this book. If you're a fan of endings such as myself, then stop before the last hundred pages and make up an ending of your own. Naturally, I do recommend this book. In conclusion: Where the hell is Ralph ?

[t-baba]

Firefox 69 released, and how to 'rotate' the mouse cursor with CSS

#407 — September 4, 2019

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Frontend Focus

My Favorite CSS Hack — * { border: 1px solid red } is a classic ‘trick’ for debugging CSS and HTML issues by putting borders around every element. This tip takes a few extra steps, however, and helps you get a better overview, particularly with nested elements.

Gajus Kuizinas

How Web Content Can Affect Power Usage — Users spend a large proportion of their online time on mobile devices, or on untethered laptop computers. This post digs into factors that affect battery life, and how to make your pages more power efficient so that users can spend more time engaged with your content.

Benjamin Poulain and Simon Fraser (WebKit)

The Secret to Agile Transformation — Discover how to empower web teams to collaborate more effectively, increase the rate of iteration on your site, and drive business results. The secret? WebOps and web teams. Watch now to find out why.

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Firefox 69 Released: What's New for Developers

Mozilla

In A Swipe At Chrome, Firefox Now Blocks Ad Trackers by Default — Firefox 69, as released this week (above), enables Enhanced Tracking Protection by default, which blocks cryptominers and certain types of third party cookies designed to track users for advertising purposes.

Laurie Clarke (WIRED)

Bottom Navigation Pattern on Mobile Web Pages: A Better Alternative? — With bigger phones comes the need to adjust how we both build and design mobile sites. This article digs into how to create mobile navigation with lower user interaction costs.

Arthur Leonov

The Baseline Interpreter: A Faster JS Interpreter in Firefox 70 — JIT (Just-In-Time) compilation was once all the rage for speeding up JavaScript but a faster interpreter can result in significant performance improvements on modern workloads and here’s how it works.

Jan de Mooij

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Working with Attributes on DOM Elements — The DOM is just a little weird about some things, and the way you deal with attributes is no exception..

Chris Coyier

How to Dynamically Change the Colors of Product Images using CSS Blend Mode and SVG — Learn a simple technique for adding a color swap functionality to images on a page by creating an SVG and applying mix-blend-mode to the composition.

Kyle Wetton

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Overflow and 'Data Loss' In CSS — By default, elements expand to fit the content within them, but if you want to specify sizes for elements, content could ‘overflow’ within then. This is controllable and Rachel looks at the options.

Rachel Andrew

X3D: Declarative 3D for the Modern Web — A look at X3D and how it offers a simple declarative approach for including 3D visualizations into web pages.

Adrian Sureshkumar

How the caption-side Property Controls the Position of a Table Caption — An interesting tip because not only might you be unaware of caption-side, <caption> itself is not very well used either.

Stefan Judis

What to Consider When Planning a Website Redesign

TJ Welsh

Did You Know, As of HTML5, Anchor Tags Can Contain Block-Level Elements?

Ben Nadel

Need to Scroll to the Top of the Page? — If you want users to be able to jump to the top of the page quickly, there are a few approaches..

Chris Coyier

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TOAST UI Grid 4.5: A Data Grid Control for the Web — This no-dependency TypeScript-based data grid component works down to IE9, works with many data types, has advanced sorting capabilities (which you can customize), and is easily re-themed.

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instant.page 2.0: Preload Link Target Pages ASAP — You include some JavaScript in your page and the browser will begin to preload the destination page the second someone clicks on a link. This can result in a slight, but noticeable, performance increase.

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CSS Duotone Generator — Bring in an image, apply effects, and then generate the HTML and CSS you need to reproduce it on a page.

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dark-mode-screenshot: Take Both Light and Dark Mode Screenshots with Puppeteer — If you’re using Puppeteer as part of a testing or screenshotting process, did you know you can specify whether or not dark mode CSS rules should be respected or not?

Bram van Damme

Can You Rotate the Mouse Cursor in CSS? — Not exactly, but there’s a very neat looking workaround to pulling off the same effect. The demo here is cool to look at, if a little disorienting.

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[thefatlannister]

Clarke + Manipulation Part 2: Bellarke

the (less shippy) Part 1: Clarke + Manipulation

Okay so there is a lot of controversy in different corners of fandom regarding the presence of manipulation in Bellarke’s relationship. We’ve all scene the ridiculous accusations, of course, but even within our own fandom I feel like sometimes we take certain interpretations for granted without really interrogating them. Luckily, I love self-interrogation and talking about Bellarke so strap in.

There are 3 primary narrative reasons that I think Clarke doesn’t manipulate Bellamy pretty much at all compared with other characters, and some of those reasons may be obvious, so bare with me: 1) as the seasons progress, any attempt Clarke makes to manipulate Bellamy would be and are not very effective (this is prominently demonstrated in the narrative) 2) it doesn’t make sense for Clarke to manipulate Bellamy because she really values his input, even (especially?) when he disagrees with her, and 3) perhaps most importantly, Clarke has VERY LITTLE incentive to manipulate Bellamy because they are almost always ON THE SAME SIDE. Manipulation is primarily a tool you use to, as we see in the definitions in part 1, twist someone else’s priorities into your own (which can’t happen if you have the SAME priorities) or employ deceit of some kind to influence someone’s decision-making. Basically: persuasion isn’t manipulation, no matter how good you are (Clarke is) at it. Persuasion is something that is very prevalent in Bellarke’s relationship when it comes to discussing how best to achieve their mutual goals, but even messy or emotional persuasion is not the same as manipulation.

Ok, now to touch on fandom interpretation, which I’ll also address when I look at the scenes below. There are several reasons I think fandom overestimates the amount of “manipulation” in bellarke’s relationship (outside of sheer making shit up), and those are 1) confusing “manipulation” with “telling the truth and that truth bringing about the reality you want” 2) not really examining Clarke’s intent or awareness with certain actions/word and 3) misconstruing hurting someone as manipulating them.  

This brings me to the 2 scenes I want to talk about! Finally! Okay, so the fact that Clarke manipulates Bellamy less than others doesn't mean it’s something that’s never present in their dynamic. There’s a couple big scenes that people talk about and have strong opinions about that I think are really important to talk about here. So I’m going to go in chronological order.

#1 - 2x09: “It’s worth the risk”

(x)

I’ve thought about bellarke’s story in this episode A Lot and whether it’s an instance of Clarke manipulating Bellamy, because it seems like a lot of fandom throws this episode around as “proof” that Clarke is willing to - to whatever degree - use Bellamy as a tool/manipulate him for her purposes, etc. But honestly, I ultimately just don’t see it that way, and I don’t think the narrative supports that interpretation.

To be honest, the scene above is the closest Clarke comes in this episode to being “manipulative.” She says “I can’t lose you too” because she knows it will end the discussion immediately. It also has the added benefit of being completely true: in that moment, Clarke has a knee-jerk panic reaction at the thought of Bellamy abandoning her and says the thing she knows will get Bellamy to agree with her, or at least to not fight her on it. This is something Clarke does A LOT, especially with Bellamy - employ the Truth to it’s most potent effect. But I think it’s something that people confuse with Clarke being “manipulative,” which isn’t the case, because she’s being transparent af.

Originally posted by fyeahbellarke

This is the part of 2x09 that I see thrown around a lot as “Clarke being manipulative” or “Clarke using Bellamy” and it’s one of the reasons I wrote this meta because THAT COULDN’T BE FURTHER FROM THE TRUTH. The ONLY person Clarke is playing here is herself.

Let’s think about where Clarke’s head is at in this episode. She’s just killed a person she loved in order for skaikru to get this alliance that it needs to protect itself and save her friends. For Clarke, that decision had symbolic significance as well: shedding her personal feelings and sentimentality in order to put the group first. Throughout 2x09, her choice is validated implicitly by the fact that the move worked - they have their coalition - and explicitly by L.exa, who takes one step farther than Clarke had taken the night before by openly declaring that “love is weakness.” So the whole episode is Clarke really coming to embrace the “love is weakness” ideology in a way she hadn’t with Finn - remember she tried to save him MANY times (despite the odds) before she had to kill him in 2x08.

Early in the episode, when Bellamy offers to go to Mt. Weather, Clarke’s knee-jerk reaction against losing him comes to the fore and she shoots down the idea, and Bellamy backs off. But the thing is, Clarke has no reason to think that Bellamy has stopped thinking that the “inside man” plan is the best possible plan - in fact, the audience doesn’t either! Literally the only reason we’re given as to why Bellamy drops the inside man idea is because he’s respecting Clarke’s feelings for him. So, at the end of the episode, when Clarke finally embraces the “love is weakness” ideology completely, she realizes that it was her love for Bellamy that was holding them back from executing the best plan possible to save their people (because the inside man plan is presented by the narrative as simultaneously a suicide mission but also the best plan they have). So Clarke thinks, having removed the impediment of her feelings, she can just let Bellamy go like he already wanted and had planned to, despite the fact that she’s afraid of losing him.

(x)

And this is where we get into controversial territory. I think people interpret this scene in a way that casts a negative and inaccurate light on Clarke because we are looking at the scene from the perspective of Bellamy’s hurt feelings, which are clear through Bob Morley’s performance. WE know that it meant a lot to Bellamy to hear Clarke say “I can’t lose you too.” WE know that maybe those words made Bellamy feel like maybe he wasn’t expendable, at least not to her, and that when she takes them back it cuts deep. But the thing is, Clarke breaking Bellamy’s heart =/= manipulating him. And it doesn’t equal her thinking of him as “a tool” or a subordinate either because Clarke is not ORDERING Bellamy to go; she literally says “you were right” - she’s agreeing with his earlier plan. And as far as the argument that Clarke intentionally hurts Bellamy as some back-door way of manipulating him into leaving - that doesn’t add up because there’s no evidence that Clarke KNOWS ANY OF THIS or conceptualizes her decision in that way AT ALL. 

Clarke does not know the profound damage she’s doing to Bellamy’s heart in that moment - and honestly how can we expect her to? 2x09 is arguably the episode in which Clarke is the most traumatized in the whole series - she is literally seeing ghosts - and she can barely look Bellamy in the eyes the entire ep. As crazy as it may seem to us, the audience, Clarke really has no idea how much she means to Bellamy in general (up until now she’s initiated all intimacy between them, he just reciprocates) and in this episode in particular, she is so consumed with stopping up her own overflowing feelings that she doesn’t question her assumption that Bellamy likely sees her “I can’t lose you too” as an impediment to him completing a necessary mission.

So Clarke telling Bellamy that he was right and that he should go into the Mountain is not some kind of cleverly crafted emotional manipulation meant to get him to do what she wants. Clarke fools herself into seeing it as overcoming the artificial barrier she had put in place earlier in the episode (her feelings for him) and allowing him to carry out the mission he himself proposed so that they can achieve their mutual goal of saving their people. She sees it as not letting her own feelings for Bellamy get in the way, and so she says, “you were right,” and reverts back to his initial plan.

I hope I’m not coming off as preachy or anything, but it was important to me to explain how I - and I think, the narrative - is framing this scene. Which is as a traditional tragedy - as in, a tragedy borne from misunderstanding. The tragedy is twofold: Clarke thinks her reigning in her feelings is doing everyone a favor by allowing her to address the problem at hand, but she doesn’t know how much she’s hurting Bellamy by sending him away. On Bellamy’s part, he thinks that Clarke’s dismissal is a true reflection of her feelings for him - and her feelings about his usefulness/disposability. He can’t see her internal battle - she hides it from him the entire episode despite him constantly being by her side. So both of them are looking at the same situation and coming away with different understandings that hurt them in different ways. This is not a scene that victimizes one over the other, rather one that ratchets up the stakes of their relationship while helping to drive the plot of the rest of the season.

No matter how you read it, this is a devastating scene for Bellarke - it’s heartbreaking for Bellamy and for Clarke and for the audience. But it is a scene that sets up an emotional misunderstanding and reticence between Bellarke that I don’t think is truly addressed until 3x05. It is a scene that places Bellarke’s relationship front and center in both of their emotional arcs going forward, and that’s a beautiful thing. Finally, I think the only way one can come away from analyzing this scene convinced that it’s as simple as Clarke manipulating Bellamy in a way that’s supported by the narrative is if one came into this scene assuming that Clarke already somehow holds the upper hand in Bellarke’s personal relationship, which is honestly antithetical to what the show has been telling us since day one. Other peoples and characters may place Clarke front and center as “the leader,” but Bellarke have, since at least 1x08, related to each other as equals, with Bellamy never taking orders from Clarke. And he doesn’t start in 209.

#2 - 3x05: The Scene

*rubs hands together* I LOVE THIS SCENE. Okay let’s dive in.

So this scene is a biggie that people Freak Out over a lot on both sides of fandom. I’m begging y’all to hear me out for a moment here though while I make my argument. In this scene, for one short moment, Clarke DOES actively try to manipulate Bellamy. However, her attempt is very short and unsuccessful. I’m not trying to attach any kind of moral value to the fact that she tried - there are no perfect decisions in this show and the impasse that Bellarke was at in this scene presented yet another dilemma for both characters. So let’s look closer at what happened.

Clarke comes to Arkadia in 3x05 basically because she cannot imagine a world in which Bellamy is not on her side. She barely seems to hear that he was present for the massacre - all she hears is Indra’s answer when she asks, “how did you survive?” and Indra says, “Bellamy.” Clarke, understandably limited in her perspective because of her estrangement from Bellamy and the sky people over the last 3 months (note Octavia’s “you haven’t been here, Clarke”), does not anticipate that things could have changed so much that he would actively oppose her and what she sees as the peaceful solution.

However, within the first few seconds of their encounter, Clarke realizes that the task of bringing Bellamy over to her way of thinking is not going to be as easy as explaining her side of the situation to him. It’s when Clarke realizes that she’s failing to reach Bellamy (when he says “we’ve been at war since we landed”), and that she doesn’t have time to waste, that she feels like she has no choice but to try a line that has always brought them together in the past, though she’s never employed it quite so tactically: “I need you.”

One of the reasons it’s so hard to talk about Clarke + manipulation is because it’s very hard to tell when Clarke is intentionally trying to manipulate someone or when she just says the right thing - which she has a gift for - and where the line between those two things is. But in this case I think it’s pretty obvious when Clarke says, "I need you” it’s both because it’s true AND because she knows it’s worked before to snap Bellamy out of whatever spiral he’s in. Just like Clarke saw in 1x08, Clarke sees again in 3x05 that Bellamy’s hurting deeply and has once again convinced himself that he’s nothing but a monster. So she says the same thing she said then, under that tree. In 1x08 when Clarke says she needs Bellamy it’s because it’s true; it’s that first formative moment where Bellamy’s vulnerability won him her trust and his honesty won her respect and his capacity for good won her affection. In 3x05, she says it because it’s still true, but also because she desperately needs a shortcut to get back to the place where he trusts her, where she can count on him again. 

Now let’s talk about why it doesn’t work.

The “I need you” is a very interesting swerve because usually when Clarke manipulates someone, she uses their political circumstances to her advantage or she leverages the other person’s relationship with someone else (ex. L.exa with Anya). But Clarke rarely leverages HER OWN relationship with the person she’s trying to manipulate. But in 3x05, she does just that - but it totally backfires.

Clarke has meant it every single times she's said “I need you” to Bellamy. In this scene, though, Clarke thinks she can get away with saying it again, that she can use it to manipulate Bellamy without hurting herself. But then something crazy happens: Clarke totally plays herself. Clarke is trying to get the upper hand on the conversation when she brings up Mt. Weather, but when she says she needs him, that she “needs the guy who wouldn’t let me pull that lever by myself,” the actual truth of that - that he did that with her and that she does need him, slaps her in the face. She can't even get through the sentence without being emotional, and that's never happened to Clarke when she wants to be in control before. She's the Queen of control in situations like this. But when Bellamy looks so hurt, when he proceeds to throw her own words and his hurt - hurt that is DIRECTLY TIED to the fact that he ALSO NEEDS HER - back at her, it’s too much for Clarke to handle and she immediately quits playing playing any games and just crumples in on herself.

(x)

Despite what some people say, Clarke visibly coming apart at the seems when Bellamy says everything that comes after “You left me. You left everyone,” is, I think, about more than Clarke just (a) crying because Bellamy’s yelling at her (the shallowest of anti interpretations tbh) or (b) Clarke crying because she recognizes the truth in what Bellamy is saying. I do think (b) is at play - Clarke is definitely hit by a truth bomb in this scene, that’s part of why she apologizes - but even more than recognizing her own sins (sins Clarke already KNOWS she committed!) Clarke begins to break down and cry because she’s being faced with how broken her and Bellamy’s relationship is, and by how much the fact that it’s broken affects her.

(x)

Clarke is hit by a wave of shock and grief in this scene not only because she didn’t expect Bellamy to be this mad at her, but because she didn’t expect his distrust and anger to hurt so badly. She’s so rattled by this that she can’t even keep it together enough to control the conversation, much less persuade or maniplate him to her side (she can’t even keep her goddamn feet! she’s so shook she has to physically sit down). What this scene says to me is that Clarke can't bring herself to manipulate Bellamy - especially when they're at odds personally, and she misses him. Conflict with Bellamy leaves Clarke way too raw to have enough control to manipulate, which is why this initially political conversation just becomes an explosion of feelings.

But the agency in this scene isn’t all Clarke’s - this is a two-way street. This scene is so intense because Bellamy REFUSES to let Clarke get away with feeling nothing, with manipulating him, and she is surprised by the intensity of her emotional reaction to him. He refuses to let her breeze by the implications of her needing him after she left him - he refuses to let her go on believing he doesn’t need her too! He stops her attempts to manipulate the situation, to remain calm, when he says, “enough, Clarke!” I’m not pointing this out to praise Bellamy - like I said, no one’s right or wrong in this scene, and Bellamy is definitely harsh. But he refuses to let Clarke turn the conversation to their personal relationship when what she really wants from him is political.

And I think that, to an extent, Bellamy knows what he’s doing in this scene. He knows Clarke, knows her penchant for getting what she wants and saying the right thing. It's why he's so afraid that she doesn't care about him equal to how he does for her: he KNOWS she manipulates people and is terrified deep down that she has been paying him this whole time and that he is disposable to her (a fear that rose to the surface in 2x09). So while Bellamy’s pain in 3x05 is completely honest, he's intentionally throwing it at her hoping something will stick, trying to get her to reveal her own emotions, because he's sick of feeling like he's the only one who has them. It's not manipulation on his part because both of them just know each other well enough to press the right buttons. For me, this is part of why I love this pairing: they are the first to offer each other forgiveness and understanding, but they will hold each other’s feet to fire to make the other “face it” - from Day Trip on through.

When you know someone as intimately and can be as deeply hurt by them as Bellarke can by each other, detached, cold-blooded manipulation is impossible. And this is the scene where Bellamy and Clarke both realize it. It is a huge come to Jesus moment for Bellarke, at least in a narrative sense: it cements the fact that they really can’t get away with being emotionally dishonest with each other anymore, that they are destined to be equal partners in their emotional conflicts from here forward. And 3b totally bears me out on that. Clarke and Bellamy are on even emotional footing for like, the first time ever, in 3b, and I don’t think that’s something that’s going to change as we head into s4.

Conclusion + Preempting whatever shit I’ll prob get for this

So before someone comes at me and says I’m “romanticizing abuse” or even romanticizing a fight scene in some kind of inherently problematic way, I would like to say a couple things. The first is that this scene does not, in my opinion, in any way, constitute an instance of abuse. It’s characterized by Clarke and Bellamy leveling the playing field between them, not a perpetuation of any kind of exploitative power dynamic. Obviously I don’t think Bellamy handcuffing Clarke at the end of the scene is “romantic,” but it’s also a move that is clearly not premeditated and so has no bearing on the (script-confirmed) emotional honesty that comes before it.

The second thing is that I want to encourage all of fandom to get away from the compulsive need to ascribe moral value to all scenes/actions/words that happen in a story. I hate to break it to y’all, but sometimes stories have...conflict. Interpersonal relationships have problematic moments and people hurt each other and just because I can appreciate how extremely painful or messy scenes add depth to or change a relationship does not mean I am romanticizing a scene, or approving of any one character’s actions.

Being socially and politically critical of media we consume does not mean parsing every action by every character as “Problematic or not” or even as “right or wrong” - especially on a show that goes out of its way to make sure there’s no one way to interpret any situation. Being a responsible consumer of television means holding writers accountable when they perpetuate harmful tropes, it means speaking out for better representation and more diverse stories and discussing issues when we see them. It doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a couple because they’ve had a fight, it doesn’t mean that narratives aren’t allowed to be ambiguous about who’s right and who’s wrong and what’s fair and what’s not.

That’s why there is so much contention about the 3x05 scene - because it’s really up for debate what’s fair and what’s not, who “deserves” what and who was “right.” But the reason I wrote this meta, at least this second part, is to make the point that it doesn’t really matter what percentage of that conversation was “fair” - what’s important about the scene is the emotional depth it gave two characters and the added layer of complexity and history it gives to their relationship. 

Specifically, what matters to me personally is that this scene convinced me, in an irrefutable way, that Bellamy and Clarke love each other deeply. Qualify that love any way you like, but this scene shows us two people who, in the midst of an extreme and dangerous conflict over their political positions, cannot help but break down over the loss of their relationship with each other - a relationship that they hadn’t realized had become vital to their very beings. They are trying to claw their way back to some semblance of the trust and intimacy they have counted on in the other previously, but there is too much raw hurt and too little common ground to allow them that reconciliation.

So if you made it to the end of this unnecessarily long and probably boring meta, you should know 2 things: you’re a rockstar and bellarke love each other *hits bong* bye folks

[coeurdastronaute]

The District: Chapter 7

“I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My own wisdom, and that of all about me, seemed insufficient for the day.”-  Abraham Lincoln, Third Debate against Stephen A. Douglas, 1858.

The city happened. The uncharacteristically warm day of mid-January erased the slate and flushed free the gutters and streets until it was a constant river of frozen trash and saltwater feeders. The sun came out and blinded everyone who grew accustomed to the overcast sky of December, attempting to convince everyone that they could trust it, that this was here to stay, and so eager were the inhabitants to accept it, that they foolishly fell into the trap despite the warnings of every morning weatherman’s smile.

The anomaly of the weather distracted the sad wanderer of the oddly familiar streets, though she did not allow herself to think of it longer than just a moment, a stray thought about how odd the course of events of her week had been that a day like today seemed almost normal. She wished it had been the standard blustery day, that would hurt and make her bones ache, so it would fit her mood. Instead, she got the sunshine and timid people who wanted to enjoy it but couldn’t allow themselves. 

Cars and buses rowed down the rivers of avenues, kicking up wakes in their passing while everyone marveled at the gushing of water and overflowing of sewers, as if the island itself was sinking into the ground. All breathed a sigh of relief, and the streets became alive again of people who met each other’s eyes and did not remain bundled up with heads bent low. 

The house had been too stifling, and Lexa too hungover to be able to tolerate it for too long, and so she relegated herself to wandering the streets in search of memories, while simultaneously attempting to avoid them, as if she had a chance in it, as if it were an option. It was a tough line to balance atop, and she failed at every turn, but still she tried because at home her mother was sad and hiding it, and her siblings were loud and loving, and all that she wanted was a moment of quiet and bitterness without infecting them. 

He made it exactly three days after everyone returned home and life went back to the post-holiday normal. Stroke they said. Quick, they told her mother. Painless, she had explained to her children. 

Lexa heard the words and wondered how it could be true, how ceasing to exist could just happen, how leaving could be painless, because she was damn near certain this pain of being left was unbearable to mere mortals. The doctors didn’t talk about that part. Leaving felt like a relief and being left felt like being stabbed with dull knives continually. 

Her shoes kicked along the soggy sidewalks, while her mind raced too quickly to focus on anything particular, instead jumping from one topic to the next because if she thought too hard about one thing, she would lose it. 

When she was fifteen, her grandfather taught her to drive in the parking lot she refused to look up at as she walked past on her way home. When she was twelve, he was ready to beat her raw for stealing baseball cards from the convenience mart on the corner. Instead, he marched her up and had her return them, shamefully. When she was eight, he showed her how to fix her bike chain in the park a few blocks from home. When she was seventeen, she saw him cry when she walked across the stage because when they met, she couldn’t read and nine years later she got a diploma. 

For every important moment, he was there, and he was vital. She picked up his crossword habit, and his love of complaining with his hands held up, and she inherited his distrust of good things and his good-natured welcoming of adversity. And he was gone, when she was certain she would need him most, and she hated him for it. 

There was never going to be a time in her life when she wouldn’t need him, she realized, and this hatred was inevitable because it was born from love and admiration and selfish need. He would have known what to say to her, she decided with a sigh. 

The entire day passed in a hapless kind of meandering around the city. Lexa didn’t want to go back to the house. At the house, plans were being made. In the kitchen, her mother wasn’t crying, but she did occasionally bury her face in her husband’s chest and let her shoulders rock with tears that were forbidden to fall. In the living room, calls were being made to relatives abroad and at home, bringing the troops around. In the yard, neighbors traipsed through the mounds of pent up snow and dropped of plats and apologies. In the garage, an alarm clock remained open and waiting to be fixed. 

This was a time to step up, and Lexa knew it, though every time she lapped back around to her street, she couldn’t do it. And so she took another and hoped it’d be easier next time around. 

As the city appeared, Clarke leaned against the window for a moment, her phone slipping a little from her ear as she hardly listened to her colleague explain something. For a moment she doubted herself, and she panicked. Just a few hours before, and she’d been having a shitty morning. Now she was having a shitty afternoon, and was far away from home in more ways than one. 

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be back tomorrow,” she shook her head from the revery and sighed, catching half of the conversation. “I’ll email whenever I get set up.” 

She’d been to the city a few times, but she never left Manhattan. When she stepped off the train in Washington Heights, the Christmas lights were still strung up and the snow was gone. Backpack filled with work and a duffle slung over her shoulder, Clarke took a deep breath and resigned herself to it. 

Lexa had been right, that she’d hid and been afraid, shirked her responsibilities, and not been an overall good girlfriend. The lawyer only wondered if she was too late in realizing it, if this wasn’t enough, if this was the right way to handle it. 

By the time she got a taxi to take her to Lexa’s home, the nerves were over the moon. Cars were parked out front, filling the small driveway. The smushed together houses seemed even more cramped on the busy street. Kids played where they could, still in their winter clothes despite the warmth that allowed the world to thaw for just a second. 

Standing on the front stoop of the house Clarke was just now realizing was Lexa’s childhood home, her hands felt empty. People always brought things for funerals. When her dad died, they filled the house with casserole dishes and cards. Clarke looked at her empty hands and cringed. 

“Clarke?” Gabby opened the door before she could raise her hand to knock, catching her off guard. 

“I am so very sorry for your loss,” she sputtered, catching herself in the midst of a large hug. “I was about to knock. I didn’t make any food.” 

“We have more than enough food,” the mother murmured, squeezing Clarke until her bags fell to the ground. 

Though it took a moment, Clarke finally relaxed into the surprised arms. She closed her eyes and hugged her back. The smell of something wafted through the house, billowing out warm and delicious. Something about a mother’s hug was too much. 

“Lexa’s not here,” Gabby finally sighed, pulling away and holding Clarke’s cheeks, eyes glassy and proud. “She’s out walking around the neighborhood.” 

“We, uh, we...” the newcomer fumbled. “She... we fought. Things are... I’m here for her. She didn’t know I was coming.” 

“Are you staying?” 

“I didn’t mean to impose. I know things are... I did not come to get in the way. I came for Lexa. I have a hotel. If she wants me.” 

It was a mess of nouns and verbs and pronouns, but Clarke hoped she got near a tangible point as they barreled out of her mouth with alarming veracity. She argued with lawyers and strangers with more grace than she found herself exhibiting to the mother of the girl she refused to acknowledge that she loved. 

“She was close to my father.”

“I know,” Clarke offered a small smile. “All of the stories she told me... he sounded great, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet him.” 

Noises inside brought them back to their moment, and the kindness of the introduction was warm and Clarke bathed in it, hoping the same would be the same for when the daughter returned from her walkabout. 

“Come on inside,” the mother smiled. “Come on, come in. Warm yourself up a bit.” 

As soon as she walked inside, it was an inundation that made her head spin. Brothers and sisters and noise and people and yelling and living, it all happened right there, and Clarke was swarmed. Every person she’d heard stories about was there, jammed into every available nook and cranny. 

Sheepishly, Clarke accepted hugs and offered her condolences, trying to keep everyone straight. Aunts and Uncles who didn’t even make it to stories appeared, and she did her best to keep up, but it was like one of those math problems that covered and entire blackboard, expanding out in all directions with no beginning or end. 

Her coat and bags were taken, and her cheeks blushed with the heat of the rooms. It took a lot of angling around different questions, answering as best she could, before she was able to take a breath. Another hour, and she was able to sneak outside and make a few work calls, to catch her breath from the insanity. 

The sun started to set as she helped around the kitchen. Lexa’s brothers sat down with her and made her help with paperwork, when all she wanted to do was peel potatoes. But she didn’t have those skills. She could read a life insurance policy though, and understand legal paperwork. So she did that because they had questions, and that was how people grieved. 

“Can’t you wait?” Gus complained, waiving a knife as he chopped and prepared food. 

Tall and broad and huge, Lexa’s brother was the only one who could keep up with their mother in the kitchen. He did it all day, chef at some restaurant downtown. The seemingly moral standard of the group, he waved a knife as an extension of his hand, bothered by the legality of death.

From what Clarke could remember, he was the stern one. The oldest, with the responsibility. The stoic one. But the one with a laugh that came straight from his belly whenever it was allowed. 

“We’ve never had a lawyer in the family. I have questions,” Abe ignored him, flipping through documents. 

“I’m not in the fam--”

“Plus, if we get it done, we don’t have to think about it,” Anya ventured. 

“I really--” Clarke tried.

It was nice to have at least one familiar face when Gabby disappeared to execute the duties of the matriarch, attending to phone calls and sorting out the rest. Anya hugged Clarke tightly when she arrived, and it gave Clarke a little hope. 

“One less thing Mom has to deal with,” Aden piped in from his stool as he crunched on the veggies his big brother cut. 

The youngest except for Lexa, the soldier was much quieter than the rest of the siblings. His hair was a little lighter than her girlfriends, though she recognized him instantly from Lexa’s descriptions. 

“We can really--”

“You’re making a complete stranger read important family documents,” Lincoln argued, grabbing himself a beer from the fridge as he balanced a newborn on his chest. “Maybe let her settle in a bit first.” 

“I would be happy to--”

“Like I said, if we finish it now,” Anya reiterated. 

“One less thing Mom has to deal with,” Aden helped. 

“Mom is going to lose it soon anyway,” Gus shrugged as something sizzled. “It’s coming.” 

“You know she has your wife picking out clothes?” Luna asked Lincoln as she strolled into the kitchen. 

Just half of them were in the room, and Clarke was overwhelmed, and so she gave up trying to have a voice. She could understand how Lexa was quiet, and how she learned to be stubborn and scrappy. She could also see how a family of kids who didn’t look anything alike was closer than she ever thought her own could have been. 

Her esteem for the mother of the brood only grew as the kids, with their loud opinions and certain kind of mischievous smirks got together. It would have been enough to make a saint pull their own hair out. 

“I had some questions for you as well, Clarke,” their father pulled up another chair.

He was not as tall as his oldest son, though he was taller than Aden, Bill Brady was quiet and polite, and Clarke had no problem imagining him to be the best kind of balance for his wife. Angry when she wanted to be calm, peaceful when she was inevitably feisty, Clarke enjoyed his presence, for what she knew. 

“Again, I don’t specialize in contracts or policies,” Clarke offered weakly. “I can try to remember the classes, but I--”

“She works with the Constitution,” Ellie interrupted. “You have the poor thing reading a Will. In Portuguese.”

“I can peel potatoes,” the lawyer offered, earning some chuckles. 

“Get her a drink, son,” Bill called Aden, looking down the bottom of his glasses at the tiny words. “We’re getting this done so we can tell your mother not to worry about it. So we have time to grieve and celebrate properly. First comes--”

“The climb,” the kids all echoed with various methods of rolling their eyes. 

“And then comes--” he smiled, not even looking up. 

“The view.” 

“Exactly.” 

“Congress?” 

The kitchen grew quiet as Lexa walked inside and paused at the entrance. Just down the hall, the living room continued to play host to kids and cartoons, to cell phones ringing and people talking while footsteps upstairs paced and debated. The siblings in the kitchen grew quiet and looked around at each other while Lexa couldn’t look away from the girl who sat at her kitchen table, surrounded by paperwork and her father and brother and sister. 

“Hi.” 

It was weak, but it was all Clarke had to offer at the moment. The eyes of the family ricocheted back and forth between the two as if it were the US Open. 

“What are you doing here?” Still frozen where she first laid eyes on the guest, Lexa wanted so desperately to move, to go back and wonder the streets a little while longer. 

“Your grandfather died, and you’re important.” 

No one knew what it meant, but the father saw how his youngest shuffled slightly and set her jaw before shoving her hands in her pockets defiantly. 

“Why don’t you two go talk? We can write down our questions for Clarke,” he offered, setting his glasses down. 

“I want to see what happens,” Aden grinned, earning a gaggle of kitchen towels swatted at his shoulders. 

Lexa waited until Clarke stood up and took a few steps before hugging her tightly. She knew they had to talk, but it didn’t matter at that moment, because as much as she walked around outside in the city, she realized she was chasing this exact feeling, and so she buried her nose in the familiar hint of strawberry hair, and she let her cold nose earn a flinch from Clarke’s neck as it took up residence while she closed her eyes and clung. 

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke whispered, arms wrapping around Lexa’s neck as she felt her ribs squeezed by inked ones. “For all of it.” 

“You came.” 

“Yeah.” 

A chorus of awe’s and kissy giggles began behind them despite their father’s insistence that the reset of the brood stop mocking their sister. Lexa allowed herself a full minute of clinging and inhaling before finally pulling away. She kissed the girl that travelled this far just to make sure she was alright, even with her family watching. 

“Thank you,” Lexa sighed. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m trying to figure it out. I don’t know how,” she confessed, hands hanging on Lexa’s biceps that held her cheeks. “But I have priorities.” 

She earned a small smile there, not the whole, cocky, definitely Lexa smile, but it was still something and Clarke felt a relief sink into the muscles of her lungs and chest. As if they hadn’t in weeks, both took a deep breath and caught themselves feeling oddly alone. 

It was short-lived, but it was needed. The world impeded upon them, while the relief was a drug that did not wear off as easily. 

“You’re frozen through,” Gabby came into the kitchen with a grandson on her hip. 

“I’m fine,” Lexa shook her head, growing embarrassed with the fretting. 

“Go shower and change. Take Clarke’s bags with you,” the mother ordered, easily taking control of the situation. “I’m sorry honey, but we’re full. The basement will have to--”

“No, no that’s... I can go to a hotel. It’s not--”

“We stay together,” Lexa stopped the protest. “Mom doesn’t believe in giving away money when we have space here.” Clarke waited and measured her options, watching her girlfriend for an idea of her own thoughts on the subject. “I’ll put your bags in my room, Congress.” Clarke smiled and nodded. 

“Thank you.” 

The basement was a collection of lives and times. The stairs creaked, well-worn and used from a stomping heard of kids up and down it all day. The pool table tucked beneath the stairs was covered in Christmas decoration boxes. Clothes hung from the line above the washer and dryer in the corner. 

The cemetery of mismatched furniture created a little living room in one corner, a grandmother’s couch, a neighbors old futon, spare tables for holiday gatherings. 

From the pull out sofa bed, Clarke sat on the edge and waited. Upstairs, the house quieted and the squeals of floorboards as the last siblings awake cleaned up and snuck to their rooms so as not to wake up their parents. 

“I thought you’d be asleep,” Lexa smiled as she made it down the steps to see her girlfriend reading through something while the old television on the mismatched table flashed colors on the walls.

“I had a few things to catch up on.” 

Lexa nodded and pulled her shirt over her head. She had a few drinks under her belt, and that helped. It helped that Clarke kissed her cheek and let her family bombard her with questions. It helped that suddenly Lexa didn’t feel terrible when the lawyer approached.

The ink flashed different colors on the new skin presented. Clarke loved watching it move, watching it shift and change. 

The bra went next, and a shirt covered it again as pants disappeared. 

“I wanted to talk about... the past few weeks,” she broached, swallowing the sight in and shaking it away. 

“I said some things I shouldn’t have,” Lexa acknowledged. “I don--”

“No, you were right. And I have priorities. Your family is... big, and I’m not used to it. I want to... I want to be--”

“I know,” she smiled and crawled onto the wobbly bed. “You’re here.” 

“I took you for granted, and I was self-absorbed.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I wasn’t trying hard enough. It’s hard work, and I didn’t know that it takes constant kind of--”

“You’re here. We can figure it out,” Lexa promised. 

“I thought it might be too much, me coming, but I was already on the train when I figured that out, so it was too late, and then I ended up here--”

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

Clarke let Lexa toss her reading to the side, let it flop onto the concrete floor. She let her crawl onto her legs and let her drape herself across her lap. 

“I’m glad I’m here,” Clarke realized, pushing the messy hair from Lexa’s temple. “Are you okay?” 

“No,” she swallowed and dug her nose into Clarke’s stomach. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“I just want to be quiet with you.” 

“Okay.” 

It took a second, but Clarke laid back against the pillows in the warm sheets and let Lexa use her like a pillow. She wanted to say a lot more, apologize for even more. But that would be for her, and right now she only wanted to be something good for Lexa. 

“Your family is nice,” she whispered. 

“I can’t believe they didn’t eat you alive before I got here.” 

“They basically did.” 

“I’m so tired,” Lexa shook her head and confessed. 

“You can sleep,” Clarke whispered. She ran her hand up Lexa’s back, rubbing soothing circles there. 

“How long are you staying?” 

“Until we go home.” 

Eyes already shut, Lexa hummed slightly and smiled against Clarke’s ribs. It was nice and warm in their little bubble. Clarke wanted to tell her it was going to be alright, and that things were going to be different, but all that Lexa needed was sleep and to feel safe and like someone was fighting for her, so she kept quiet and she rubbed her back. 

The clouds hung heavy in the sky, dragging thick through the afternoon, slowly twisting themselves empty with a thin kind of rain that was consistent and unrelenting. It felt like the day for a funeral. 

Unsure of her place or her job, Clarke remained quiet, helping the wives of the siblings who were distracted with their grief, each handling it differently, yet ridiculously similarly. All became chickens with their heads cut off, unable to focus on anything, unable to really do anything. Abe lost his tie, Gus broke a crate of eggs, Anya went to the store and returned with nothing on the list, Lexa could barely sit still, and yet couldn’t accomplish a thing. 

And so Clarke followed behind, cleaning up, making breakfast, washing dishes, making sure everyone ate and drank water. It wasn’t much, but she ran out and bought a tie, and she got the stain out of Lexa’s dress, and that was what she had. 

“It was a really nice service,” Clarke offered as she held Lexa’s hand and they made their way to the house. She held the umbrella as best she could, though her girlfriend didn’t seem to notice anything. 

“Before I ended up here, I lived with my mom.” Clarke watched Lexa bring a cigarette to her lips and light it despite the weather. “I don’t know who my dad was. I don’t remember any pictures. But I remember the day I came home and she was gone. She just packed up and left me. And then I came here, and Vô, he found me trying to run away one night, and I don’t remember why, but my voice didn’t work. So he figured out what I wanted, and he drove up and down the streets with me, for weeks, every night, looking for her because I was convinced she was lost.”

She didn’t have any words, but Clarke just held tighter to the umbrella. Bitterly, Lexa inhaled and let smoke drift up into the clouds. Of all the stories she heard of the man who loved her girlfriend, they all ended in this feeling that he was a beloved hero to each person he came in contact with, and that was a lot. 

“He would talk to me, stop and get me a snack, and every night, when we didn’t find her, he’d put me to bed and promise we would try again, but no matter what, I could stay with them.” 

“He sounds amazing.”

“The world feels different without him.” 

“It is different, but if you think it’s without him, you’re very wrong,” Clarke promised. “I never met him, but he made you, and that is no small feat.” 

They lingered in the front yard, taking their time already on the return trip, everyone was already piled inside. Clarke sensed the way Lexa avoided going in, but she was there, and she was good, and so Lexa tossed the butt across the yard and sighed before making her way inside. 

In the kitchen, Lexa helped her mother while Clarke changed clothes, and she shoved up her sleeves and dug into the water, her hands moving as they knew ow after years and years of practice. Clarke absently ran her hand along her back and hugged her, looking over her shoulder at the progress she made at chopping. 

The inhabitants fluctuated through the room, tugging at ties and growing antsy, and Clarke held on for dear life. 

“I’ll get it,” she offered when the bell rang, kissing Lexa’s shoulder and earning a small smile and nod at the offer as she disappeared. 

“I like her,” Abe nodded, stealing some of the veggies his sister cut. “She’s good people, Lex.” 

“She’s a nice girl,” Gabby nodded eagerly while Lexa focused intently on her task. “It was a nice service.” 

“It was,” Lexa agreed, hiding her blush. 

“These are for you, Lexa,” Clarke breezed in again, hidden half behind the bouquet. “From Justice Jameson.”

“You told your boss?” 

“He asked why I wouldn’t be at work,” she shrugged and placed the flowers down on the counter, handing the card to the artist. 

“Who is it?” her mother interrupted. 

“Clarke’s boss. He sent his condolences,” Lexa muttered, reading the note jotted there quickly. “Though I did not meet the man you mourn, having met a single flash of his legacy in you showed me how great your loss must be. Your family is in my prayers during this difficult time. From one vexillologist to another, I know he would be honored by your continued dedication to what he loved.” 

“That is from your boss?” Aden  asked as Lexa tucked the card back into the flowers. 

“My boss, yeah,” Clarke nodded. “I don’t know how he found the address.” 

“That was very kind of him,” the mother smiled fondly. 

“Her boss is a Supreme Court Justice,” Anya reminded the group. 

“He’s just a guy that likes flags,” Lexa shook her head. “Like Vó.” 

It took hours for the house to empty. Well-wishers and supporters, people who were touched by the doting grandfather, friends and relatives, the extended family all lingered and helped clean and helped eat, and they all took their time leaving. Babies were put to sleep, exhausted from being dressed up and passed around. Ties were undone and tossed on door knobs and heels were kicked off while music muffled through the old stereo. 

But once it did, once the door shut and everything quieted, the vodka came out, and the kids gathered in various states of disarray. Clarke sat back and observed because suddenly Lexa became clearer, and more abstract, more unknown. 

As an only child, it was overwhelming, to say the least. As much as she wanted to sneak away and finish the work that piled up in her inbox, Clarke was too distracted and enjoying herself much too much. 

Lincoln’s wife kissed his cheek before disappearing to deal with the crying heard over the baby monitor. He smiled and drank from his beer, solemn and strong for his siblings. 

“I’m going to bed,” Gabby finally wiped her hands on a dishtowel before tossing it on the counter, surveying her full kitchen, the large table filled and added to with mismatched chairs. “Don’t stay up too late,” she warned, earning a kiss from Aden who put his arm around her before he dug for more leftovers. 

“Please don’t make a mess,” she asked, looking specifically at Lexa who shrugged. 

“Love you, Mom,” a chorus of different goodnights mumbled from the table. 

“He loved you all so very much,” the mother paused, watching her grown up kids together at the table, grown from such tiny, scared things to such full, conscious, kind adults. “He would be very proud of you.” 

The table was quiet for a moment while each took in the words. Ellie was the first to move, pouring herself another drink. Her husband put his arm around her chair. 

“Boa noite, Mãe,” Lexa offered. 

The kids watched their mother disappear down the hall, listened to her climb the steps, waited until the door shut. 

“Okay, give me five minutes,” Lexa smiled, standing suddenly, surprising her girlfriend slightly. “Who’s first?” 

“Me, before Jess comes down and tells me no,” Lincoln decided. 

“I have to get across town,” Gus shook his head.

“I’m the youngest,” Aden tried. 

“Me, before Jack loses his nerve to watch,” Ellie chuckled and patted her husband’s cheek. 

“What’s happening?” Clarke furrowed, leaning toward Anya as Lexa slid around the chairs, moving toward the basement. 

“Do you know how rare it is to get all of us together like this?” the nurse scoffed, pouring herself more before adding some to Clarke’s drink. “Luna’s down in Texas. Aden is God knows where half the time. Both can’t get home on leave often. Abe lives out of a suitcase practically, traipsing all over. Gus is on the other side of the city, working every night. Ellie is two hours away. Lexa is about five. Lincoln has the kids and Jess’ family and work. I mean, it’s tough.” 

“Right.” 

“So, we have to celebrate.” 

“Oh no,” Clarke sighed. 

“Oh yeah,” Jack nodded, commiserating. “Welcome to the club.” 

Reluctantly, Clarke clinked her glass with him and swallowed as she surveyed the table. She was the partner, she was Jack and Jess and Tara and Tom, and when she saw their resigned faces with their part of the brood, she realized what a commitment it was. 

“We’re getting jackets made,” Tom offered, earning a pat on the chest from his fiancé. Anya kissed him a second later and laughed. 

“You just have to let them be them,” Tara shrugged and sipped from her wine glass. 

“We’ll send you the checklist for the proper handling and care of your puppy,” Jess smiled, taking her seat again. 

Clarke sipped and felt her eyes grow big with the realization of all of it. It wasn’t terrifying, but a great responsibility. 

The order got figured out through fights and yelling, and she wondered how the parents could sleep through it, but she was certain it was practice. Lots of practice. 

There was something about watching Lexa work though, that dulled the inherent panic of how she ended up in this kitchen, with this vodka, this late at night. Clarke liked the process of it, the business of it, the demeanor that came in Lexa’s face when she sketched and placed and sized, when she prepared the ink and put on the gloves, pushed up her glasses, tested the machine with a few light buzzes. 

Tiny, little flags appeared on different spots on different bodies. Clarke was distracted with watching her girlfriend do her job, watched her grieve in the only way she knew.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Lexa murmured as she cleaned up and tugged off her gloves, in a quiet moment between it all. 

It was small, and it was honest, and it was all that was needed. 

Somewhere on the fourth night after the funeral, after everyone went back to work, back to their houses, after a few trips to the airport and station, Clarke stole away a few hours to catch up on work. Gone from the office for just two days, all other emails seemed negated after and email from her boss telling her not to mention it when it came to his note and flowers, and to take care, because work could wait. 

It was true, and she knew it, but Lexa told her to go ahead, and so she did. In reality, it was an excuse for the artist to run away and play with her old rag tag group of friends and Clarke took it as a good sign. 

It was deep into the night when Lexa crept down the stairs toward the tiny bed set up in the tiny available space. She did not bother much with changing, but tugged off her pants and slid in beside the girl who read from her laptop and waited up. 

It was such a wonderful thing, to be waited up for, and Lexa knew it. 

“Hi,” she whispered, settling atop the lawyer, closing the laptop lid and setting it on the dryer. 

“Hey,” Clarke cooed, adjusting to allow the new blanket. “Did you have a good time?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good. You needed it.” 

“I needed this,” Lexa disagreed, tucking her head into Clarke’s collarbone with a hum. 

Hands moved up and down her side, touched her bones until they slipped beneath her shirt and warmed her skin. Their breathing evened out and only the hiss of the boiler kicked on as someone showered upstairs. 

“Are you ready to go home?” the artist asked, closing her eyes and hearing heartbeat. 

“Whenever you are. I’m here for you.” 

“I’m sorry for how I acted...”

“No, that was needed,” Clarke stopped her. “We have a lot to work on, I think. But so long as we’re each other’s priority, I think it’ll all average out.” 

“Not too good at math, are you, Congress?” 

“I cheated on my Stats final in college.” 

“Shame.”

“Well, it got me here, so I’m okay.” 

Lexa smiled and kissed her shirt before inhaling deeply. It was a lot, all of it, and she was so very tired from existing for the past week. While most of the time days just stacked and stacked, bleeding into another, there were weeks, she knew, that were just exhausting marathons of living, truly living, and coming to the end of one was too much for her. 

Clarke felt the tears on her shirt, against her neck, murky and tepid there, creating a rainforest on the equator of her shoulders, but she let Lexa remain still and she let it happen. Only once did she pause to kiss her head. 

Nothing deterred Lexa, and she cried because she couldn’t grieve before, and because she didn’t know how to stop. And now, when she cried, the first honest cry of Loss, she wanted to be done. 

“It’ll be better after you sleep,” Clarke promised. 

“It won’t.” 

“It will,” she swore. “Because you’ll wake up with this fire for life, and I’ll fall madly in love with you, just like I do every day, and that’s something.”

Lexa sniffled and dried her cheek with her hand. She did not move to sit up or to shift off of her girlfriend who was a pillow now. Slowly, she put herself back the way it was supposed to be. 

“I’m glad you came.” 

“I met your family. Now nothing can scare me.” 

“I can be a handful.” 

“Good.” 

[callunavulgari]

Scrapbook 2017, Take 1

Scrapbook for 2017, because I actually kept up with it last year (for the most part) and it helped a lot. So, rules!

Italicized titles = enjoyed muchly, bold titles = love, titles with an asterisk* = OBSESSION and titles in (brackets) are re-watches/re-reads. And lastly, strikethough = DISLIKE.

Goals are: read thirty-five new books this year, finish four video games, finish writing and publish the Sabriel AU, and write something original. Even if it’s just a collection of short stories.

MOVIES

January:

(Flubber)

Arrival

(Spirited Away)

KH X

iBoy

February:

The Awakening

(Finding Dory)

(The X-Files)

(V For Vendetta)

La La Land

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

(Interstellar)

Ex. Machina

March:

No Country For Old Men

Beetlejuice

Pontypool

Logan

Get Out

Beauty and the Beast (remake)

It

April:

Tales From Earthsea

(The Secret World of Arriety)

(Inside Out)

(Kubo and the Two String)

May:

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

(It)

The Secret Life of Pets

(Moana)

Stargate

Your Name

BOOKS

January:

Vicious | V.E. Schwab

Goldenhand | Garth Nix

Frankenstein | Mary Shelley

Illuminae | Amie Kaufman [Fin]

February:

Before the Fall | Noah Hawley

The Martian | Andy Weir

March:

Before the Fall | Noah Hawley 

The Martian | Andy Weir

Annihilation | Jeff Vandermeer

April:

Annihilation | Jeff Vandermeer [Fin]

Vicious  | V.E. Schwab [Fin]

A Conjuring of Light | V.E. Schwab [Fin]

Love for the Cold-Blooded: Or: The Part-Time Evil Minion’s Guide to Accidentally Dating a Superhero [Fin]

May:

(American Gods)

PODCASTS

May:

The Bright Sessions Eps 1-31

Alice Isn’t Dead Eps 1-2

TV SHOWS BY SEASON

January:

Stargate Atlantis s5

Sherlock s4

Gate

Steven Universe

Travelers

Trollhunters

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Skam

Voltron

Konosuba

Stargate SG-1 (s1)

Taboo

February:

Stargate SG-1 s1, s2

Yamishibai

Frequency s1

(The X-Files)

Grey’s Anatomy s3

Taboo

Legion

The Flash

Black Mirror s1

March:

Legion

The Flash s3

Taboo

Supernatural

(Hannibal s1)

April:

Legion 

Rick and Morty s3

The Flash

Grey’s Anatomy s4, s5

(Hannibal s1)

The Expanse s1

Trollhunters s1

American Gods

May:

American Gods

Sense8 s2

The Flash

Grey’s Anatomy s5, s6

Wynnona Earp

Grace and Frankie

Riverdale

Steven Universe

VIDEO GAMES

January:

Pokemon Moon (7 hrs)

Dragon Age: Inquisition (Dwarf Rogue; 1 hr)

Final Fantasy X (2 hrs)

Dragon Age: Origins (Male Human Mage; 52 hrs)

KH 2.8 | BBS; A Fragmentary Passage (3hrs)

KH DDD Remake (1 hour)

February:

Pokemon Moon (15 hrs)

Dragon Age: Origins (Male Human Mage; 52 hrs)

Mass Effect 2 (Male Soldier Sheppard; 1 hr)

Assassin’s Creed 2 (8 hrs)

Silent Hill 3

March:

Fallout New Vegas

Horizon Zero Dawn (80 hrs) [Fin]

Mass Effect Andromeda (Female Ryder; 41 hrs)

April:

Mass Effect Andromeda (Female Ryder; 83 hours) [Fin]

Persona 5 (80 hrs)

May:

Persona 5 (96 hrs)

Nier: Automata (4 hrs)

LoZ: Breath of the Wild(40 hrs?)

DELIGHTFUL FIC

January:

Stargazers by Ruby_Wednesday (Captive Prince; Laurent/Damen;  Five years after the Truce of Marlas, Damen and Laurent meet again in Delpha. They're forced to work together to soothe the growing tension between their countries. But Laurent does not forgive easily and Damen's not that sorry.)

con·tra·dic·tion by caseyvalhalla (Yu Yu Hakusho; Kurama/Hiei;  Mukuro raised the paper until it was out of range, just to make Hiei lean up on tiptoe, just to see that curl of anger on his mouth again, and she smiled sweetly enough to bare all of her teeth. “Why are you exchanging love letters with the right hand of my political rival?”)

in another time in another castle by caseyvalhalla (KH; AkuRoku; No one grows up without regrets.But time moves in cycles, winds back on itself, and sooner or later that kid you used to play video games with is gonna reappear just in time to ruin your day.)

Hernandes & Jones by antistar_e (kaikamahine) (SU; Japis;  In Miami, it's a statuette. Jasper tells her, "Come on, I need your help," and Lapis says, "That's nice. What part of 'I'm not wearing a catsuit' do you not understand?")

i have my body (and you have yours) by astoryaboutwar (YoI; Yuuri/Victor;  Yuuri overflows with the weight of things that have been said, trembles with what remains.)

A Somaal Universe by antistar_e (kaikamahine) (SU; Japis; Connie flips over the next card. "'Most likely to -'" She reads out loud, and then dissolves into laughter and has to start over, propping the card up on her bump. "'Most likely to freak out when you go into labor and break the speed limit getting to the hospital?'" "Pearl," Amethyst and Jasper say in unison.)

Let's Give Ourselves Promises of Our Unending byaimmyarrowshigh, nichestars (SW; Shara/Kes/Cassian; Captain Cassian Andor tries to define what it means to live after he should have died. His second life is a softer one.)

Abstain by resonant (SGA; Mcshep;  Aliens force John and Rodney not to have sex.)

Advantage by resonant (SGA; Mcshep;  This slave-owner thing was a lot of responsibility.)

Streets In A World Underneath It All by ISMENETRUTH (SGA; Mcshep; "Puddlejumper One: An Exclusive Portrait of John Sheppard on Atlantis," John reads aloud, smirking. "Funny, I'm pretty sure I've never met the author.")

Faith healing by aesc (SGA; Mcshep; The signal had started a year and a half ago, maddening, popping up in Chicago, D.C., Charlotte, New York City, Santa Fe, Montgomery, Santa Cruz, Seattle, a town in Kansas with a name like Desperation and a place in North Dakota called, from what Rodney could remember, Sweaty Groin.)

The home front by aesc (SGA; Mcshep; “This had better be the Sheppard residence,” Rodney says, brilliant, agitated life and volume against a monotonous day and Dave’s subdued welcome, “because I’ve been driving around for hours and if I ever find the woman who did the voice on my GPS system I’m going to personally amputate her vocal cords.”)

Reality by Resonant (SGA; Mcshep; McKay was the perfect object for a crush you never intended to do anything about.)

Cultural Exchange by lamardeuse (SGA; Mcshep;  "What does he think we are, Fine Arts majors?" Rodney grumbled.)

Do You Know What I Know? by DevilDoll (SGA; Mcshep;  "You need to come here, "John said, crooking a finger, "so I can slap you in the head.")

Pegasus Non-Verbal by igrab (SGA; Mcshep;  John always gets a little thrill when he sees Rodney sign at him across the room, casually dissing people literally standing next to him and John is the only one who knows.)

Junk Cheap by DevilDoll (SGA; Mcshep;  If you were thinking you'd love to read an AU where Rodney is a college professor and John owns a junk shop, this is the story for you.)

Denial by DevilDoll (SGA; Mcshep;  "John talks about you all the time.")

All The Way To The Bone by respoftw (SGA; Mcshep;  John is ready for a new beginning and he wants the tattoo to commemorate it. )

February:

Calling Down the Lightning by dreamwaffles (SGA; Mcshep;  Dr. Rodney McKay, PhD PhD, is a wizard.)

Forget Me Not by maisierita (SGA; Mcshep; John the servant turns out not to be anything like Rodney would have imagined.)

Unidentified by fiercelydreamed (SGA; Mcshep; Fourteen years, eight months, and seven days after John and Rodney meet, the clock starts all over again.)

into that secret place where no one dares to go by verity (TW; Stiles/Lydia; 4k; The first time he felt Lydia's soul, it felt like a sneeze.) 

Black Helicopters at Dawn by whizzy (SGA; Mcshep; 240k;  Screw the bet. Rodney was going to prove the existence of extraterrestrial intelligence. Oh, and incidentally, he might just catch the United States Air Force with their pants around their ankles.)

Out in the Open by Xparrot (SGA; Mcshep;  It's Situation Normal for the team when they're caught in an avalanche, but digging themselves out uncovers more than they counted on.)

A Rational Universe by Xparrot (SGA; Mcshep;  "You're a lot more encouraging than my last friendly hallucination," Rodney says.)

Speech Deprived by Xparrot (SGA; Mcshep;  Rodney was released from the infirmary with painkillers, icepacks, and a strict injunction to limit all unnecessary speech for at least three days.)

Lord of the Sea (masterpost) by Multi (SGA; Mcshep; Among the Goa'uld, Mer'deth was something of an oddity.)

The Return to Normalcy by  Cypher (SGA; Mcshep;  The three month anniversary of the exile--as John thinks of it--falls on a three-day weekend.)

Still by murron (SGA; Mcshep;  On any other day, John might have shot Rodney a quick look, broadcasting his doubt and checking whether Rodney shared it. With a sinking heart, Rodney admitted it would be foolish to expect that kind of exchange right now.)

March:

Surrogate God by PepperPrints (The Flash; Reverb/Harry;  When Harrison Wells returns to Earth-2, someone is waiting for him. Reverb survived Zoom, but with the cost of losing his abilities. Convinced that Harry can return his powers to him, Reverb holds him captive, and he's asking for more than Harry can deliver.)

My Father Before Me by telleer (SGA; Mcshep;  Even after twenty years, Rodney still has no idea how to raise children.)

We Cannot Live Within by laureltreedaphne (SGA; Mcshep; John grinned. "So McKay's attractive to everyone?")

Before We Get Going, Here's Some Books I'd Like You to Read by Chash (The 100; Bellamy/Clarke;  Two months into her new job at the library, Clarke knows the following things about Bellamy Blake: they reserve a lot of books, they have good taste in said books, and they're really good at avoiding her.)

Livewire by marauders_groupie (The 100; Bellamy/Clarke;  Clarke Griffin finds 'Atlas' written on her wrist and Bellamy Blake sees flowers bloom on his skin.)

For Love of the Hunt by acidtonguejenny (Horizon Zero Dawn; Nil/Aloy;  If she’s hard on Nil, it’s because she understands more of him than she wants to.)

Heavy Weapons and How to Use Them by Armengard (Horizon Zero Dawn; Aloy/Petra;  The world ended, and then it didn't, and Aloy seeks a new purpose. In the meantime, visiting Free Heap and one Petra Forgewoman every so often is certainly worthwhile, as Aloy eventually finds out.)

Like a Lightning Strike by miss_aphelion (Hannibal; Will/Hannibal;  In a world where omegas are instant celebrities and treated like royalty, Will just wants to be left alone.)

babel by spqr (X-Men; Charles/Erik;  Two days ago Charles screamed loud enough that Erik heard him halfway around the world, but he didn’t listen.)

Under the Sea by astolat (SGA; Mcshep;  "Oh, thank you," Rodney yelled over the howls of do that conga!, "because what my night was missing was being groped next to the beer keg by a guy in a tiara.")

Lord, Save Me from Your Followers by anamatics (Supergirl; Lena/Kara; Kara, perhaps out of a want for thoroughness in her story, perhaps out of a Millennial-born urge to creep on a the social media of a woman she finds intriguing, discovers that Lena Luthor has a pretty active following on Instagram one afternoon not long after their first meeting.)

The God Machine by robotboy (Marvel; Loki/Tony; Tony goes undercover to spy on Loki. It's a fucking disaster.)

April:

Debt by Storynerd (Marvel; Tony/Loki;  Tony Stark shouldn't find Loki fascinating, but he does, because all he’s ever wanted to do is take things apart to see how they work. Besides, he’s never been any good at following the rules.)

in stasis by ilgaksu (Voltron; Keith/Lance; The story starts like this: with a story where you think you know the end, until it turns out you don’t, until it turns out you didn’t have a clue.)

Yuri!!! in Space by Fahye (YOI; Yuuri/Victor;  "No, see, we've all been trained a certain way. The training system is traditional; it's centuries old. Nobody taught you. You ballist like it's got nothing to do with war at all." A sleepy, extraordinary smile crawls over Victor's face. "Nobody else does it like that. That's why we're going to win.")

hood & glove by Fahye (YOI; Yuri/Otabek;  "I don't mess with the fae," Otabek says.)

between the motion and the act by Fahye (Captive Prince; Damen/Laurent; "They don't want it to be real," Laurent says. He touches lightly, with his fingertips, where he's written LOVE WINS. "They want us to sell them a fantasy, and they want just enough reality that they can pretend it might happen to them, one day.")

May:

A Perfect Commotion by Ruby_Wednesday (Captive Prince; Damen/Laurent;  Laurent needs this job. Not in the I need to put food on the table and a roof over my head kind of way. He's got a generous inheritance, thank you very much. No, he needs this job to prove he is a functioning adult who did not waste his late mother's money on an expensive education. He can be normal, whatever that is.)

Don't Turn Me Home Again by gyzym (Hawaii Five-O; Danny/Steve;  After a rough day of island living, Danny wakes up in New Jersey and learns the hard way to be careful what he wishes for.)

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym (HP; Harry/Draco; Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.)

Favor for Your Four-Chambered Heart by @kaikamahine (SU; Jaspis; Never Let Me Go AU)**

With Fire in Their Eyes by Asuka Kureru (Askerian) (YoI; Yuuri/Viktor; He lands butterfly-light in a swirl of hair and glittering gauze, and the ceiling crashes to the rink all around him.)

An Unpredictable Amount of Turtles by skoosiepants (TW; Sterek;  Stiles says, “I have a five year plan. A five year plan to popularity that will tank the minute I meet this guy.”)

Bring a Towel by verity (SGA; Mcshep;  It was just Rodney's luck that the guy with the strongest expression of the ATA gene on Earth was some lanky alpha who couldn't follow an order as basic as "don't touch anything.")

Crypsis by zoemathemata (SGA; Mcshep; Rodney McKay is the pissiest Alpha John Sheppard has ever met. And that’s saying something.)

Zen and the Art of Jumper Maintenance by Indybaggins (SGA; Mcshep; The one where Rodney gets sucked in and John… follows. Featuring a quirky John, Rodney in orange robes, crazy Ancient-worship, sheep milking and jumpers that aren't broken but need to be fixed anyway.)

Out of West by rageprufrock (SGA; Mcshep;  In 1991, Desert Storm began, Pete Rose got banned from the Baseball Hall of Fame, the Soviet Union collapsed, and Rodney McKay was framed for academic fraud.)

A Slightly Different Quality of Light by rageprufrock (SGA; Mcshep;  John's very first memory, the one Rodney finds after he goes through six separate data terminals--all of which he has relocated to a roomy lab with lots of windows--is of the sky.)

Bell Curve, or, Ladies Night at the Boom Boom Room by rageprufrock (SGA; Mcshep;  In his rational mind, Rodney knew that following a girl who'd just dumped you into a strip club was really, really pathetic.)

Lock the Door by rageprufrock (SGA; Mcshep; "You can't possibly be this stupid," is what Rodney finally decides to start with.)

No Less Unthinkable by rageprufrock (Yuri On Ice; Yuuri/Viktor;  In which Katsuki Yuuri fights a losing battle with chronic anxiety, the quadruple Salchow, and his own judgment four drinks in — but wins the war.)

DELIGHTFUL FANVIDS

January:

Glitter & Gold (Voltron)

► Multifandom | Saturn

Yuri On Love

A Sadness Runs Through Him - a Gravity Falls PMV

win | multifandom (2015 mashup)

hero | multifandom (2016 mashup)

Multifandom | Goodbye 2016

take it slow | multifandom

ruins | The x-files

McShep - Run Baby Run

McShep - Can't Pretend

February:

Superhero; SGA, Mckay/Sheppard (mcshep) 

Burning Desire (Peter/Roman)

►Purple Lamborghini

►MAD HATTER

Multipsychos | I got blood on my hands

Dean Winchester | Born to be wild (8k)

multifandom || The Apotheosis of War (TYS) 

star wars || timelines

Captain America • Symphony of Violence

March:

N/A

April:

As Much As If You Were A God 

►MultiFandom | Believer

"Lenny"/David [Legion] || give it a twist

►MultiFandom | Stay

May:

Kylo Ren || believer

DELIGHTFUL MUSIC

January:

Fassine | Feather Jesus 

DJ Earworm Mashup - United State of Pop 2016 (Into Pieces)

What’s The Use In Feeling Blue - Steven Universe\

Caravan Palace - Lone Digger

Yoga Session 08 - Music for Meditation and Relaxation

Utopia (Jana Hunter Remix)

Not Afraid Anymore

Susanne Sundfør - (LidoLido Remix) The Brothel

Run Baby Run - The Rigs

February:

The Man Who Sold the World - Midge Ure (2010 Remaster) 

Donna Burke - Sins of the Father

Liz Phair - Got My Own Thing

Seinabo Sey - Pistols At Dawn

Laura Marling - Rambling Man

Willy Moon - Railroad Track

March:

Undiscovered First - Feist

Kubo Soundtrack

Matt Maeson - "Cringe"

Tribe Society - Kings

Elephante - Black Ivory

BISHOP - River

BISHOP - Wild Horses

Lisa Hannigan Oh You Pretty Things

Nina Simone - Feeling Good (Bassnectar Remix)

MIX - MAURICE RAVEL Bolero

Rag-n-Bone Man - Human

April:

The Judge - Twenty One Pilots

Horizon Zero Dawn - Complete Soundtrack (OST)

Believer - Imagine Dragons

Kygo, Selena Gomez - It Ain't Me

K.Flay - Blood In The Cut

Stargate - Waterfall ft. P!nk, Sia

Portugal. The Man - "Feel It Still"

Doc Robinson - Golden Daze

Iko, Iko - the Dixie Cups

Brian Reitzell feat. Mark Lanegan - “In The Pines”

May:

Feist - Century 

Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon - Rafferty

Evil Woman - Electric Light Orchestra

Guardians Inferno (feat. David Hasselhoff)

Moby - Memory Gospel

Above & Beyond - Good For Me

Jack Johnson - The Sharing Song

Lamb - Wise Enough

Otto Knows feat. Avicii - Back Where I Belong

Emmit Fenn - Painting Greys

Bon Iver - Holocene

Made In Heights - Murakami

DVBBS & Shaun Frank - La La Land

Totemo - Host

Years & Years - Worship

Klyne - Paralyzed

Embrace - Goldroom

MØ - Say You'll Be There

Zella Day - Sweet Ophelia

Every Other Freckle - Alt J

Angel Haze - Moonrise Kingdom

BANKS - Better

Marian Hill - Got It

Glass Animals - Holiest Feat. Tei-Shi 

WRITTEN FIC

January:

Piece From a Satyr Play (SW; Reylo; 141 words; Her hair is done up in white ribbons, three enormously lopsided buns trailing down the back of her neck.) 

Wasted Early Sunday Morning (SW; Reylo; 434 words;  Her skin is smoother than his, smoother than many of the people that he’s touched in his life, and he aches to touch it now, watching her stretch lazily in the early morning sunlight, spine arching like a cats.)

Cosmic Love (SGA; Mcshep; 786 words;  There’s solid matter under the palm of his hand, a beating pulse, and a heart to go with it. A living person that Rodney thought that they’d lost.)

can’t help but be wrong in the dark (The Flash; Barry/Julian; 2,942 words;  The day that Allen had snarled an insult back in response to one of Julian’s cutting remarks, he’d gone home and fisted his cock furiously, thinking about the slant of Allen’s mouth and how it would look smeared with come. How Allen’s hair would feel, knotted in Julian’s fingers as he fucked his mouth.

eat flowers, breathe light (SGA; Mcshep; 1585 words;  John gives Rodney a dreamy smile, swaying slightly towards him, and says, “You have really beautiful eyes, you know that?” )

February:

Bifurcation Theory (TW; Stiles/Derek/Lydia; 7208 words; Lydia sucks in another shaky breath, trying to think of a polite way to explain that she's sorry, that this was a mistake, and she didn’t mean to bother him. Just as she’s opening her mouth, Derek sighs gustily, the sound breaking apart with static in her ear. “What’s Stiles done now?” he asks, his tone resigned.

March:

Ain't At Home (Home's Where I'm Going) (Horizon Zero Dawn; Aloy/Vala, Aloy/Avad; 2 Chapters - WIP; 3420 words;  “Not all comforts are bad,” Vala whispers, and Aloy shudders apart.)

April:

Ain't At Home (Home's Where I'm Going) (Horizon Zero Dawn; Aloy/Nil; Aloy/Petra; 2 chapters - WIP; 1872 words;  She’s beautiful, deadly, her eyes gone sharp and flinty as she stares down each of her victims. Nil licks his lips, throat working when she turns to him afterwards, eyes soft again, now that the killing is done.)

love, can't protect you now (SGA; Mcshep; 1635 words;  “When they come,” Rodney tells him quietly, “I won’t kill you.”)

May:

Ain't At Home (Home's Where I'm Going) (Horizon Zero Dawn; Aloy/Erend; Final Chapter; 1539 words) 

Say You'll Be There (The Flash; Barry/Iris, Barry/Thawne; 1159 words;  Barry swallows, fingers tangling with hers, and says, “Storms make me think of him.”)

FANMIXES/GRAPHICS

January:

Keep Your Heart Inside: A mix for love, hazy and undefined, the kind that leaves you wanting.

February:

N/A

March:

you know the words: a mix for your inner weeaboo.

April:

Cotton Candy Skyline: music for picking at scabs.

May:

[masongis4680-blog]

Response 1

Democracy, Capitalism, and Romanticism were radical notions in the pre-dawn light of feudalism, a system that ensnared commoners in the toils of poverty. Nobles and aristocrats were elevated to a position of supreme power and wealth, which rested on the backbones of peasant labor. Two historical events offered a seeming glimmer of hope for the disenfranchised and impoverished: the American and French Revolutions. Through the former, the burgeoning American colonies forcedly ripped their suckling mouth from the teat of Britain. This shift signaled an end to the traditional mercantilist system of social relations that constricted American commerce. Though the American Revolution was a radical departure from the previous political and economic systems, it was a decidedly conservative revolution. The conservatism of this revolution is voiced in its most auspicious document: the Declaration of Independence. The document is littered with references to the “natural rights” of man, which promised life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Though these “inalienable” rights seem to promise freedom and liberty to those formerly oppressed, the reality of the situation was simply not so. The term “natural” was constructed and defined according to the rich, white, bourgeois class of socioeconomic elites. Ironically, there was nothing natural about natural rights. The American Revolution ensured the continual political domination of the people by an oligarchy rather than a monarchy. The French Revolution bore a far more radical approach, which was birthed from different historical circumstances. Serfdom reigned as the dominant form of social relations in France and the majority of the population existed in a state of destitution. Bread prices soared following the French assistance of the American Revolution, and economic collapse loomed on the horizon. Commoners starved in the streets while the aristocracy and clergy glutted themselves with wealth. The rise of the sans-culottes was signaled in the storming of the Bastille on July 14, 1789. Through this act, the Parisian commoners called forth an end to the traditional system of rule, which would be enacted through a chaotic and bloody revolution. The seminal document of the French Revolution was the Declaration of the Rights of Man, which was based upon the American declaration. Whereas the American declaration hinges upon vague language regarding natural rights, the French declaration explicitly states that these rights are “liberty, property, security, and resistance to oppression.” The political, social, and economic oppression faced by the sans-culottes under serfdom is clearly addressed by these rights. The extension of property as an inalienable right of man is present within the French declaration, but not the American declaration. This is a key difference in the radicalism of each movement. Whereby the former sought for an end to the systematic oppression of serfdom, the latter sought for the reification of bourgeois dominance.

           The rise of democracy coincided with the rise of capitalism, as espoused in the works of Adam Smith and John Locke. Locke’s justification of private property relies upon a logic similar to the one utilized in the Declaration of Independence. His arguments are based upon the presupposition that God created the world for humanity to labor upon. Through the act of labor “man” enacts a two-fold process: he at once claims to the object of labor as his own and he instills value in the object. Locke utilizes an almost proto-Marxian definition of labor when he contends that labor instills value in an object, though he remains far more conservative. For Locke, the acquirement of property is a natural extension of man’s desire to labor, through which he lays claim to an object. Locke supports this view of property with the contention that property, and thus land that is labored upon, is worth far more to humanity than dormant common lands. Throughout the piece Locke offers a descriptive and genealogical analysis of property, which naturalizes property as a human inclination. Adam Smith relied upon such a naturalization of property in his 1776 work, The Wealth of Nations. Smith’s most influential work laid the basis for classical political economy, which was the driving force behind capitalism. Capitalism was a radical notion in the world of the 18th century Europe, which was dominated by serfdom and common lands. Smith’s political economy represented a means through which labor could receive its just reward on a free market based on a criterion of merit. The reality of capitalism was a far more conservative notion though, and has come to lord over the world as the dominant mode of production. The “invisible hand” which is the keystone of Smith’s theory is largely a fallacy. The corrective force of an invisible hand that rights the market’s wrongs does not exist and the market has been shown to boom more than it busts. The influence of these works upon the French and American Revolutions was paramount though, as reflected in their seminal documents. The American severance from mercantilism would transform into the capitalist boom of 19th century industrialization. In France capitalism would take root after the failure of the French Revolution to attain the ideals it strove for and the subsequent tyrannical reign of Napoleon Bonaparte.

           Art necessarily reacts to the political reality of its temporal and spatial context and the art produced during this period is no different. In the preface to Lyrical Ballads, William Wordsworth declares his philosophy of poetry. This philosophy relies upon the adoption of a “common man’s” vernacular for poetry, through which the linguistic posturing of previous poetry may be overcome. Wordsworth also held that poetry must have a purpose, which is rooted in the “spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings” that grips the poet as they ruminate on their subject. Though Wordsworth and the Romantic poets would live up to the latter ideal, the former ideal escaped them. One need read no further than Wordsworth’s “The World is Too Much with Us” or Shelley’s “Mont Blanc” to perceive the level of diction they employed in their work. This leaves one wondering if anyone during this period was able to live up to their ideals? Wordsworth’s coauthor to Lyrical Ballads, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, produced one of history’s most baffling poems, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” The poem’s dream-like sequences surrounding death and fate seem to mark it as an apolitical poem, but many theorists have attempted to attach a political meaning to it. The poem’s mystical diction and pretension with death seem to favor the apolitical theory; however, Coleridge was very much interested in the political events unfolding in France during the revolution. This leaves one questioning whether the symbol of the albatross may have been a political symbol or perhaps the game of dice played by death aboard the spectral ship? J.M.W. Turner intended a clear political message with his painting “The Slave Ship”, which is a call for the abolition of slavery. The painting depicts a slave ship that has recently been struck by a typhoon, which caused the dumping of the slaves aboard the ship. The painting was exhibited in 1840 at a meeting of the Anti-Slavery League that was attended by Crown Prince Albert; slavery was outlawed in Britain in 1850. The painting does not only probe the legitimacy and morality of slavery, but also subtly probes the morality of wage slavery. This painting was exhibited at a tumultuous period in European history, 8 years prior to the revolutionary year of 1848, and during the lifetimes of Marx and Engels. Jacques-Louis David’s painting of Marat is far closer in nature to Coleridge’s poem than to Turner’s painting. Jean-Paul Marat was a radical French writer and theorist who was assassinated after his triumph amongst the sans-culottes. David’s portrayal of Marat is considered by Clarke to be the first work of modernism because it is a work that begs for interpretation. In the vein of the much later work of Marcel Duchamp, David’s portrayal of Marat calls on the viewer to interpret the work, as evidenced in the bleak, empty space above Marat’s head. This empty space is the uncertainty of the future, as well as the uncertainty of humanity. We are subject to the open interpretation allowed by our subjective viewpoints, which are wholly contingent. This dichotomy between the art of Turner and David is a central issue of art, which encompasses the argument between form and content, but also the questions of whether art should be explicit or open? Purely aesthetic or necessarily political? Temporally static or dynamic? These questions cannot be answered definitively but should most definitely be raised.        

[angstandhappiness]

LMAO ACCURATE

Batfam incorrect quotes pt. 6 (with some Young Justice, Titans, and other heroes thrown in there for pizzazz)

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5

-

Steph and Duke: *making animal crossing characters noises*

Tim: *Sitting silently on his computer*

Damian: “I’m going to kill everyone in this room except for Thomas”

Duke: *curling over trying to hide his laughing*

Damian: “Wait was is Thomas, not Drake?”

-

Cassie: “Who are you more afraid of, Freddie Fazbear, or your teammate?”

Bart: *mumbling* “My teammate”

Cassie: “Good”

-

Dick *at titans tower*: “being in the kitchen making dinner make me feel like ‘a single mom who works two jobs who has her kids and never stops’”

Gar: “it’s who loves her kids”

Dick: “No no, have is enough”

-

Duke: *over coms* “What if Jarjar’s name was actually Jojo, the person introducing him was just Australian”

Cass: “Horrible news”

Barbara: “You have lost speaking privileges”

-

Roy: “my emotional, mental, and physical health is all on thin ice”

Wally: “I aspire to have thick ice one day”

Roy: “I aspire to be the iceberg to someone else’s Titanic”

-

Damian: “Richard there is a creepy guy following me again”

Jason: *right behind Damian*

Jason: “You literally showed up outside my house yesterday”

-

Clark: *driving to Disneyland with six people in a five seater car, four are crammed into the backseat*

Clark: “All I want is a churro, all I wanted was a churro”

-

Robin Dick *passenger seat of the Batmobile*: “Why are there so many vans? And truck, but small truck not big truck, better than big truck”

Bruce *driving*: “Much better than big truck”

-

Tim: “So I was going down the hill on my skateboard, and I didn’t stop at the gate because I was going like 20mph and too afraid to stop. I thought “the grass will stop me,” but they were doing work on the grass, so there was rope all around. I realized I had three options, go under the rope, into the rope, or jump over the rope. I’m not going under because my neck, I’m not going into to I try to jump, but the thing is my jump is, *tiny jumps* wimpy. So I jump and run into the rope and my body went, *grabs a paper, folds in half.* The rope went forward and started pulling the metal rods holding it in, out of the ground and bent them. I then fell on my face. I was fine. I think I got a mild concussion though.”

-

Jason: “Being framed, been there, done that”

Barbara: “I don’t think you were framed very often, I think you just committed crimes Jason”