he's far from being wise and most of the time acts with anger without thinking

Reasons why I love every SVT member

I have laughed AN D CRIED a lot because of this fine group. I’m sure many others can relate to that.
I would like to take some time to appreciate and note the members individually because they all deserve the world, thanks.
(Prepare yourselves, I wrote lots???? Like…. lots.

S.Coups:

Some might say that Seungcheol isn’t fit to be in charge of the group. Well let me tell ya baby boyz why he most certainly is. S. Coups naturally has that fatherly type of image. Like “dad of the year” award type of fatherly. There is something about him that influences others to feel protected. He genuinely cares for all of the members and keeps everyone’s emotions in line. It takes a special kind of person to do that. One incident that spoke volumes to me was how he handled “Seventeen Project.” He knew when things were starting to take a negative turn and he wasn’t afraid to voice his opinions. (In a calm and rational way). BOI I CRIED. Despite the put-together (and sometimes tough) image he projects, he’s a rather sensitive person. The reason why he’s so supportive is because he longs for support himself. I think being in Seventeen has made him feel a sense of belonging. The mans has done a wonderful job and he deserves respect. I don’t think there is anyone else meant to be leader.  

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Quiet Days

Welp I accidentally wrote introspective angst whump.

Gen, Angsty Hurt!Comfort, Family
Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne
Title: Quiet Days
Rating: G

There were many kinds of days in Alfred Pennyworth’s life, and the ones he both loved and hated were the quiet ones. It was Charles Dickens who penned “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times” and, aside from Bruce’s own fondness for Dickens, they were words that Alfred felt rang especially true on those quiet days.

It was clear that there were different kinds of quiet. Alfred knew several of them well– the quiet of thinking, the quiet of an empty house, the quiet of sleep. But the days he thought of as quiet days in particular were the days that followed a particular strenuous battle, or a sleepless pursuit and fight, or an offworld mission.

Those were the days that followed Bruce limping home and peeling off the cowl with a weary hand, if he was still conscious past the first few steps into the cave. And after Alfred bandaged and mended what he could came the days of such divided sentiment.

Often, they began mere hours after Bruce returned home. Usually, the setting was the Master Bedroom. Those were the hours in which he pushed the boys away, usually kept out of harm themselves by sheer willpower and threats. If they had been injured, those days took a different tone, but that was not as often as one might think. Far more frequently, it was only Bruce.

So, it was Alfred alone who loved the selfish security of knowing Bruce– this man who was rather like a son to him– was safe. If he was at home recovering, that meant he was not out with mere skill and luck between him and his own death. It was also Alfred who hated those quiet days of watching and knowing the physical and psychological cost of being the Batman.

Because it was Alfred, alone, who slipped into the room and did not pull back the curtains as he would on a normal morning, urging Bruce to get up for his day job. It was Alfred, alone, who instead checked temperature and wounds for signs of infection, who helped lift a battered body to sip water or vomit into a bin.

Those quiet days sometimes felt like they stretched on for years, though in reality they were often three, or five, or week long stretches at most. In the shuffling steps from bed to bathroom, when Bruce would lean heavily on him and favor his ribs or his left hip or his gouged right calf, the minutes seemed to take a lifetime.

And Bruce, after being so inquisitive and bold as a child, had grown into the sort of man that wrapped silence around himself like a cape. Alfred was not certain how much of this was his own influence. It meant that those days had more than earned the word “quiet” and most suffering was borne in it.

The times that Bruce staggered and groaned, or felt back into the bed and hissed, were times that Alfred felt his heart ripped asunder. It meant that the damaged muscles or bones or flesh had exceeded even Bruce’s tolerance.

Perhaps it was the nature of injury that, if Bruce had managed to isolate from the boys he was so reluctant to display weakness or suffering in front of, he was a remarkably docile patient. There was a point, of course, where his stubborn streak dictated that he haul himself up and go back to work and life and it was almost always before Alfred thought it wise. But before that shift, there were the hours and days when his obstinance would be focused solely on the act of not giving up.

And it was Alfred, alone, who saw how alluring that temptation could be, when Bruce was too wounded to move or retain consciousness for long or fight the side effects of the stronger painkillers that grew less and less effective over time.

With his energy channeled into merely staying alive and holding the desire to recover, he did not often argue with or resist Alfred. If Alfred said there was medicine, or liquid, or food, or that he ought to try and sit up for a bit, he wordlessly complied. And this was something Alfred resented– having to be the one to push him when no one else was allowed near.

But it was part of the price, he supposed, for what he had agreed to support and be involved in. So, he coddled his resentment and anger and directed it toward the villain of the hour. If Bruce ever wondered why Alfred, of all people, carried less mercy and goodwill for struggling criminals, this was the root of it.

It was in the moments when infection defied antibiotics for worried hours, when Alfred sat at a bedside and held a cold cloth to a fevered brow. It was in the moments when necessity drove movement, when Bruce had to retch or turn a stiffening limb and could not hold back a half-sobbed moan. It was in the moments when Alfred changed bedding or got clean pillows or refilled a glass of water and caught sight of Bruce’s face, his eyes full of tears no one else would see.

And as perverse as it seemed, Alfred was also reassured by these displays of weakness. He was grateful for every small thing that reminded Bruce of his own limitations, and for every way those reminders might make him more cautious in the future. He was proud that countless periods of recovery had not deterred Bruce from fighting when he thought the price worth it.

Alfred was consoled by the small fact that Bruce had not yet shut him out from seeing the aftermath. That, after everything, these times without inhibition or reserve were something Alfred was permitted to see. It meant that Bruce was not alone.

So, Alfred would bear it because it was a small burden to bear, in the grand scheme of things. If his own body aged, he disregarded it in those days when Bruce needed a steady shoulder and a calm hand.

Every set of quiet days followed a predictable progression, from the trudging climb up the stairs to the predawn moment when Bruce would wake in the dark room and sleepily ask, “Al, you there?” and Alfred would rouse from light slumber in a chair to answer, “Of course, sir. What do you need?”

The answer varied but at the heart of it was the unspoken dependence, the bond they had formed that was not quite like father and son but far deeper and more complex than employee and employer. Alfred had long given up on finding a suitable name for it.

In their time, the quiet days would draw to a close and Bruce would stand and dress and eat breakfast downstairs, still moving slowly and pausing to lean on counters when he thought no one was watching. Alfred would draw back the heavy curtains and clean the room and brew stronger coffee than usual.

Life would creep back toward normal with scattered moments when a small breath sucked in between clenched teeth or a motionless moment in a hallway would remain. Eventually, those, too, would fade away until the next time.

Once, early on, Bruce had taken in Alfred’s poorly hidden exhaustion in a moment of clarity and said, “I’m sorry, Alfred, for making you deal with this. It was my decision.”

“And this is mine,” Alfred had assured him, letting a comforting hand linger on Bruce’s shoulder. The shoulder that hadn’t been covered in gauze and medical tape, anyway.

When Bruce would return, broken and bruised, their eyes would meet– Alfred knew his own were often full of mild reproach and worry, while Bruce’s were usually clouded with exhaustion and pain. But still the question would go between them, without verbal form, and Alfred’s answer were his actions.

Yes, I have still chosen this.

for the last time: clexa fandom needs to stop talking about bellamy blake since they are incapable of leaving their racism and double standards out of it and southern asians deserve to feel safe just as much as wlw do

im just gonna be honest. i, and dozens of other southern asian girls i am friends with feel unsafe and fucking terrified by the normalized, unconscious and insidious racism white wlw fandom constantly spews against southern asians under the guise of feminism and wlw rights

like….we are actual people who exist. we have suffered centuries of racism. we have internet access and can read the shit you say. your racism in fandom has real life implications. some of us are wlw and we can’t even enter fandom wlw safe spaces because every time we do, we see your unchecked violent and casual racism against us and feel sick to our stomachs seeing how much yall hate us and how your racism colors every aspect of how you consume media with us in it. 

yall twist facts to make moc look bad and abusive and evil, you twist narratives to favor white women and you ignore everything white people are guilty of. it’s fucking terrifying. you will never, ever stop seeing us through your racist templates and will always reply to us calling your racism out with “you are being sapphobic” because you’re obtuse and never ever want to face your racism.

one of the ugliest posts ive ever read

13. Why were male characters allowed to berate and blame women for everything? How come Jasper hated Clarke for Mt. Weather even though Bellamy was equally responsible? In what world did Bellamy have the right to guilt trip Clarke about Mt. Weather when he pulled the lever with her?

trusting lexa the first time was on clarke. the irradiation was on all 3 of them. bellamy was mad at clarke for trusting her a SECOND TIME. he “guilt tripped” her about leaving his sister to die in tondc, not for pulling the lever. check your facts. 

i dont know what world you can claim bellamy is abusive for getting upset with his friend for trying to sacrifice his sister + lying to him to manipulate him into continuing on his suicide mission + trusting the enemy that was the reason they’re so weighed down with guilt and self hatred

especially when ur completely silent about actual abuse: octavia hitting lincoln and beating the shit out of bellamy (which yall condone); lexa kidnapping clarke, blaming her for her own betrayal as an attempt to minimise clarke’s feelings of deep guilt and anger, and holding her against her will for two weeks; clarke spitting on, holding a knife against lex’s throat and telling her to kill herself, and abby slapping raven, a disabled teenager across her face for something her own daughter did

try telling me this isn’t a racist bias. 


14. Why is Clarke responsible for Bellamy’s actions? Why is her function in their relationship to keep him in line and absorb blame for his actions?

why the fuck do yall insist that clarke is responsible for bellamy’s actions? who do you constantly paint the brown man as abusive, sleazy, predatory and creepy? it’s literally canon that bellamy sided with pike because the grounders were a legitimate threat. we have 2 seasons of evidence that trusting lexa would not have been a wise decision for their survival. where the fuck is the proof that bellamy 

a. blamed clarke for his actions

b. would not have sided with pike if clarke was there (if clarke was at arkadia the situation would have never even occurred lmao) 

the only people who have accused bellamy of doing what he did because of clarke is you guys. stop pulling logic out of your ass to baselessly accuse men of color of being creepily dependent on girls in order to further demonize them


17. Why was the massacre of the Grounders treated as a morally grey decision when it was an objective act of war fueled by xenophobia and colonialist ideologies?

this is a show about survival where massacres occur every few episodes. this is so fucking offensive. you are literally accusing men of color of being xenophobic for killing an enemy army thats been attacking them since the premise of the show and is camped outside their gates. 

this is a fucking joke because abby, octavia, lexa and clarke play the roles of xenophobic white saviors and colonialists in the colonialism narrative and not only are you radio silent about that aspect, you tried to paint villainized men of color trying to survive as colonizers instead??? 


18. Why was Pike redeemed at the end? Why is Octavia being painted as an irrational character consumed by revenge for murdering Pike when both Pike and Bellamy’s actions stemmed from their desire for revenge?

i want to cry sometimes. brown people can get brutally assaulted whilst chained to rocks by white people for defending themselves in a war to exterminate them to that white women started and they were acting out of “revenge”. and their being abused and beaten bloody is not only justified but also rational? just come out and say you hate us

when i heard about 3x10, about bellamy being beaten bloody by octavia, i was shaking. i could not breathe. i had a panic attack when i saw a gifset of it and i started to cry. i had to block and blacklist people cheering it on. how dare you defend the violent white girl beating a man of color up? this is racism in it’s clearest form. do not even try pretending that you don’t hate us. 


19. If “anybody can die” why didn’t Bellamy answer for his involvement in the massacre?

so now you straight-up want the male lead dead. you want one of the two only southeast asian leads on tv dead for doing what other characters have been since the premise of the show. 

how has this racist bullshit gone on unchecked and encouraged for so long that yall dont even think about how fucking hateful and  RACIST it is? this is so scary and ugly. what is wrong with yall? what if someone had said this about lexa and mw? lesbopphobia. how have yall conditioned yourself to be so damn racist? next time ur gonna say something about bellamy, think about how you’d react if someone said it about lexa. 


48. “if Octavia is gonna face the consequences of killing pike, why isn’t Bellamy facing them for killing 300 peace warriors”

characters guilty of murder: clarke, lexa, abby, monty, jaha, kane, raven, bryan, finn, bellamy, pike, octavia, murphy, literally everyone

characters u want dead: bellamy and pike (and jaha for most people) aka the 3 men of color who are given agency, leadership positions and are not subservient to white women


edit: missed this gem 

60. will you develop Octavia point of view of proving her brother is wrong, or will you take out her agency and  make it all about Bellamy, because he was a bad brother and now need to fix his sister?

i am literally crying right now. 

white women can chain and beat men of color up until they’re bloody and collapse for something they didn’t do and you’re saying if the physical abuse is addressed, it’s going to ~strip octavia of her agency~ and make bellamy fix her?

how was octavia right? bellamy was one of the dozens of pike supporters and he literally tried to help her save lincoln but she chained him up. 

you know what. cheering and defending and supporting poc getting beaten bloody by ww is racist. implying she’s in the right is sickening. you really don’t see us as human beings worthy of respect or safety or the same consideration white girls get, do you?


start examining your racism the way you expect lesbophobia to be analysed.

stop making fandom so unsafe and triggering for people of color in name of your feminism.

and if you cannot talk about us without being racist and hateful, don’t talk about characters of color at all. if any criticism of lexa is lesbophobic, this shit is the worst kind of fandom racism i have ever encountered. if bc fans who hate lexa are homophobic, what the fuck are you? 

if you constantly tell people to think very carefully before they criticize lexa because she is a minority and most of their hate stems from homophobia, what about bellamy who is also a minority that’s FAR less represented on tv? 

lexa being invalidated, demonized, hated and criticized hurts you because she represents you. well, bellamy represents me. what if i constantly called lexa straight, creepy, sleazy, predatory, abusive, disgusting, a pedophile, lesbophobic (since u call bellamy, a man of color, xenophobic/racist)? do you have no fucking compassion? do you forget that bellamy represents people just as much as lexa does and they are both canonically good characters? can you at least try to be a little intersectional? how on earth do you not see that this is clear-cut, harmful racism you’re perpetuating in favour of white women and “feminism” and “wlw safe spaces”. 

thanks for proving time and again that white people, gay or not, are and always will be more privileged than men of color. 

ps, i ship clexa and i hate b/llarke. im a south asian wlw. and i can confirm that you have made this the most unsafe and triggering space for me and dozens of other girls like me on the entirety of the internet. this racist shit is so, so scary and disgusting. please learn to start stanning wlw without shitting on men of color. end your racist bias and end your double standards because it’s fucking terrifying and you’re not fooling anyone. you cannot keep hiding your racist propensity to hate/villainize/call for the abuse/deaths of men of color behind “feminism”.

❤️ Welcome Home ❤️

Title: Welcome Home

Genre/Rating: Fluff/Mild Angst - T/M (mentions of premature birth, non-explicit sexual content, innuendo)

Summary: Daddy Tom, Celine, Harry and Daisy from “Fireworks” - Tom comes home with a suprise for the children that causes some tension.

Author’s Notes:  This is a little long, almost 4k.  Inspired by a conversation with @coalea and @i-wanna-be-toms-body-pillow <3 Not beta’d, all mistakes are mine.  Thank you for reading/liking/reblogging/commenting.

————————————————

The purring ball of fur was tucked snugly in his jacket as he made his way up the few steps to the front door. He’d always loved coming home after being away for so long, but it had become even sweeter now that there were smiling faces awaiting him. The habit of bringing a small surprise for Celine had begun in their first year of marriage and he’d continued it when Harry arrived. His son would normally thank him with a hug and a concise, but heartfelt, “Thank you, Papa” and then promptly retreat to his room to examine the treat with his usual quiet care.

Then there was Daisy. She had squealed with delight upon seeing his face months before she had the capability of being aware of what a “surprise” was, her rosy baby cheeks flushed and ripe for kisses. Her little hands would reach for him and he wouldn’t be able to put her down for hours without instant crocodile tears. Her pleasure at these reunions was only increased when her knowledge of the surprises formed. The items he chose were often picked up wherever he had been working, but he also would frequently grab things on impulse. 

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anonymous asked:

Bellarke celebrity aus are always fun :) bonus points if you added the "secret dating" troupe

this got long and Bellamy previously playing James Potter isn’t that significant plot wise, but i just need the world to know that ‘Morley for Potter’ is a thing and i love it

ao3!

When Bellamy was nineteen, he was juggling three jobs, hadn’t gone to college, and was dealing with raising Octavia, who was going through her teenage angst phase. He fought the world with bruised knuckles and anger gnawing him from the inside out just to give them a place in it.

Now, almost six years later, he’s one of the most successful actors in the young adult genre, having recently wrapped the final season on Marauders, making more in a month than he did in a year, and is singlehandedly funding his sister’s college tuition without the fear of crippling debt to come.

It’s a bit of whiplash to say the least.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue acting after playing James Potter for the last five years. He’s made more than enough money to see him through the rest of his years pretty comfortably; he could go back to school and get a history degree, or he could even sit around doing nothing besides twiddling his thumbs. Not to mention that he played James Potter. He got to work with JK Rowling. That’s a life achievement right there, and Bellamy is sure that nothing could ever top it.

(He was a Potter kid growing up, reading the books to Octavia, going to midnight releases; he still has his original first copies, creased and weathered, on the top of his bookcase back at the apartment.)

But then Kane passed on the script to this high fantasy series set to start filming in July, and, well, Bellamy is interested to say the least. It’s said to be a less problematic version Game of Thrones crossed with Star Wars and a little bit of Lord of the Rings thrown in there as well.

So he goes to the auditions, lands the role of Aegis, the Leader of the Rebellion, and is contractually obligated to appear in at least three seasons if the show is picked up for that much. It’s a nice change of pace from robes and incredibly fragile wands, and he finds himself oddly endeared by his grouchy, hard headed onscreen persona.

And then he meets his cast members.

Bellamy has worked with a lot of people in his stint as an actor, worked with people he didn’t particularly like off screen but managed to pull off being best of friends with them on film, and even before that he worked in the service industry. He has a tolerance for dealing with assholes and putting up with bullshit, but for some reason Clarke Griffin gets the better of him.

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anonymous asked:

I feel like I'm losing my faith. Get me back to hell that is bethyl. Please

Dear sweet anon, let me be the one to remind you why Bethyl is not only pretty much cannon but why Beth is alive. And let me start by quoting the queen herself, “Wouldn’t kill you to have a little faith.

When they were left alone together after the prison, there was no more hiding anymore. The prison was their sanctuary but at the same time, those safe walls kept them from dealing with their issues. Daryl’s childhood, losing Merle, his inability to connect with others. For Beth it was the loss of her family, especially Hershel, on top of being ripped away from her only living family member, Maggie. They are both incredibly perceptive people. Daryl uses it as a way to survive and build up walls to keep others out. For Beth it’s a way to cope with the world around her and to reach out to whomever she’s able. As she began to chip away at his rough exterior, Beth saw Daryl for who he really was with no judgment. She wanted to prove to him that there was good left in the world, even if it was only her who felt that way. Everything about Beth represents light. The yellow shirt, her beautiful blonde hair. Her soft demeanor, her quickness to accept others, to reduce suffering at any cost. That “rich bitch” walker is a great representation of that. Daryl understood, placing the blanket over her head. Even in death, Beth wouldn’t let someone be hung out to dry, made to be a mockery of the person they once were.

We see Daryl slowly start to soften after “Still”. After their heart to heart, after they’ve burned down the moonshine shack, it’s all behind them. They are new, reborn. Together. I don’t mean to go off in a side tangent here but I was blown away with Norman’s acting in these two episodes. His body language gives everything away. The longing glances, the awkward silences. We can see the gears working in his mind, he has feelings for her. The way he carries himself is not totally different from before just more so. To me it felt as if he’s planning and anticipating every moment. Holding his breath. He’s waiting to see what she will say next. How she will react. Either because he has no idea what to do or because he’s totally enamored with the energy that she gives off. Their whole group, their entire family could be dead and gone for all they know and Beth is telling him to let it all go, burn it all. Although she’s still hopeful that they’re alive, she’s ready to leave their past. As much as people go on about Beth Greene being a naive teenager, she has shown more wisdom than any real life 18 year old. A big part of that is from being Hershel’s daughter. All her life she’s heard his wise words. Beth had to grow up fast in a similar way that Daryl did, just under different circumstances.

(I’ve reblogged a few things about the song played in “Still”. Check out the info on that, it’s a whole different story in and of itself and I think I’ve done enough damage for today. It’s called “Up the Wolves” and it’s by The Mountain Goats. Ironic title, no?)

After that first hug, the physical barrier is broken. He is quick to console her when we have rarely seen him initiate touch with other people. The piggyback ride was a huge indication of that for me. Followed by the bridal-style carry into the kitchen. He is not afraid anymore because he trusts her. He knows that she accepts him for who he is, without question. They are at ease with each other for the first time since leaving the prison. It’s even safe to say they feel comfortable, as far fetched as that sounds in the ZA. We see Daryl start to soften a little more. His icy disposition is slowly starting to melt under her optimistic rays. She assures him that there are good people left in this world. She’s shown him that and he starts to believe it. The tension between them is so thick, so tangible that you could cut it into slices. She asks him what changed his mind. He’s reluctant to answer her and you can see him struggle not to say you. He doesn’t have to. His eyes tell it all. Beth has gotten more out of him in this time they’ve had together than we’ve seen in his entire time on the show.

I think Beth had an inkling, if not a hope that he had developed something for her but now that his feelings were so prevalent and right in front of her and before either of them can even act it’s all over. A big part of me really hates to admit that their feelings for each other caused them to let down their guard. Knowing that there was only one exit, why did he just assume that it was the dog again? That split second after she responds, we see the haze of this beautiful, pure infatuation in Beth’s eyes. It’s unspoken but obviously mutual. That’s the thing that I love the most about Bethyl. Those small moments, the light touches, the languishing glances, they don’t need any words because it’s obvious that they both feel it.

Losing Beth so quickly before he had even fulling embraced his feelings is absolutely soul crushing, as we see throughout the rest of S5. Before he can do anything to save her, she’s taken from him again. Beth acted impulsively and did something stupid. Straight up. She let her hate and anger and resentment get the better of her and they felt a little OOC to me but, ain’t shit that can be done about that. Like I said, look up the info on the song and you will see what I mean. It’s all about the regret that you realize in the heat of revenge. 

When they enter Alexandria, Daryl is even more withdrawn. We’ve seen him go off with any excuse to be alone because his current existence is even more painful than ever. He’s seen the beauty and the light in the world only to have it ripped from his fingertips in an instant. The scene with the cigarette is honestly hard to watch. Everything is displayed so clearly on his face. He is mourning the loss of his love and because those feelings were never fully exposed, it’s like salt on his wound. The people around him see him hurting, they understand without him explaining in full. Rick knows that he’s lost her in a different way than the others, Carol too. 

The scene with Aaron and Buttons is another huge indication of his grief. “You used to be somebody’s, now you’re just yours.” Even Aaron can see so clearly that Daryl has lost someone he cared about very deeply. For even just a short time, he was Beth’s. He had given her his heart, his secrets, his everything and now she was gone. He was back to feeling like he amounted to nothing. She put him on top of the world and now he was back in the dirt where he felt he had emerged. 

You do not go through all that pain and suffering for no reason. We know that because Daryl’s entire life has been an endless abyss of pain and suffering. I truly, honestly believe that Beth will be back. We all know about the various theories out there and I have no idea how things will end up but I know that in one way or another there will be a reunion. Beth’s body was no where to be seen, we are missing 17 days. There are plenty of unanswered questions but as far as I know, they loved each other and in most instances love does truly conquer all.

Sorry for the novel over here. I just got way to into it but I hope something I’ve said has helped to renew your faith in Beth and Daryl. 

Originally posted by thesparklingzombie

A list of Bethyl (and related) moments in Season 4

This is just a list of the scenes and moments from Season 4 that I personally deem relevant in some way to Bethyl. While I have included the ‘three episode arc’, I have glossed over it because those particular episodes are obvious. This list focuses moreso on the little moments scattered throughout the rest of the season. 

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These Words are a Lie ~A Joshifer Fanfiction~ Chapter One

A/N: Well, here it is! The infamous “TWAAL” I’ve been referring to for the longest time in my tags, has finally arrived. You may recognize it from an earlier version, but this here is the real deal; the new and improved lol! I was originally going to post this later, but I decided to surprise you all with its release.

Now then. Before I go any further with disclaimers and acknowledgements and what not, I’d like to point out that this is my first full length/chapter story….ever. A little over a year of writing, and I have not once attempted such a feat. This is new territory for me! So with that being said, any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I am so thankful to be in such a sweet and talented fandom, so your words inspire me, truly.

And I would like to give a huge thank you to catching-dandelions. She has essentially been my muse in this. Spitting ideas back and forth with me in the early hours of the morning, reading over my chapters, motivating me. A giant help over all; wouldn’t have been able to do this without her.

Alright. Enough of me rambling; a few disclaimers, and then we’ll get this show on the road!

Disclaimer #1: I do not claim to know any of the people depicted in this work, nor how they would react in the situations portrayed.

Disclaimer #2: Though this fanfiction is centered closely around real events, it is fictional. It runs from May 2014 to December 2014. Some dates may be a little different, and some events may be altered, all for the benefit of the story.

Disclaimer #3: This story does indeed have mentions of Nick, Claudia, and Chris. I apologize if any portrayal of them upsets you; again, merely fictional.

Disclaimer #4: Maturity wise, this story will contain language, domestic abuse, and sexual content.

And with that, I present to you…

The quietness of my hotel room provides me with two things:freedom, while at the same time, imprisonment.

It feels wonderful to be back, safe and sound with the rest of the cast in Berlin. But at the same time, I feel like there is a large crushing weight upon my shoulders.

Sighing loudly, I kick off my shoes, setting my travel bag down by the door. I don’t bother with unpacking, or showering, or anything productive. I just make a beeline straight for the bed.

Flopping down upon it, I throw the blankets over me, allowing them to encase me in their warmth; to hide me away from the rest of the world.

I just need some time to think, to catch up with myself. The past few days were probably harder than they needed to be.

I meant to erase all the toxicity in my life, to escape away from the source of my problems.

Break ups are never easy though.

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Oliver and Felicity: 'Let the more loving one be me'. Or, what is selfless love?
I have had a lot of asks recently that focus on the Oliver and Felicity scene in 3.09 and what it means for their relationship. Rather than answer them separately, I thought that I would do a meta that will hopefully address all of those questions. First things first: I think that Marc G was doing a little bit of the old Skeevy Salesman up-sell when declaring this scene a “9”. The fandom then took it and turned it into something that I am sure even he didn’t anticipate. Expectations were sky high, mine included. Maybe that’s why certain sections of the fandom are upset or underwhelmed by the scene. I was too, at first. I don’t dispute that SA and EBR were incredible. But I can understand why some people might look at this scene and wonder “Is that it? Is that all we get?” It’s only when I think about that scene now in the context of the rest of the episode and the season at large that its impact is revealed to me. In my pseudo-review of the episode, I make the bold claim that this is one of the most pivotal scenes between Oliver and Felicity that we have seen yet. On the surface, it may not seem that way. The bare bones of it are the same as we have seen countless times before from these two. But it’s when you look at the scene in the context of their entire relationship that you realise something. Oliver and Felicity are never standing still. When you look in particular at season 3 thus far, you notice that every scene, every dialogue, every act and every action, every line is deliberate. It means something. Every scene of theirs this season has moved their story forward. Slowly, incrementally, painfully, but always moving forward, not backwards. Even the kiss with Ray was not pushing Olicity back so much as providing forward momentum. Much of this is linked to Oliver and the way in which he has been growing ever since 3.02. Again, I speak about this in the review so feel free to check that out if you’re interested.  Sure, plot or action wise, maybe the date scene from 3.01 is more important and more on a par with being a “9”. Or perhaps the “married-ness” of Flarrow seems more significant to the fandom at large than this more understated moment.  Personally, I am not here for the plot; I’m here for character development. It may seem strange that I say that about a show that is so heavily plot-driven. But the beauty of Arrow- especially in the hands of actors such as Stephen and Emily - is that there is so much nuance to their characters, being revealed in an understated way, in the background of the plot and action, that you almost miss it the first time around. You look at the surface - the scene, the dialogue and the actions - and pronounce judgement on it. That’s okay. Not everyone needs, wants or knows how to look beyond the surface. Sometimes, there’s no reason to.    I’m an English Lit graduate, okay, so I have spent years crafting my close reading skills, to read not only the actual lines but between the lines, to understand the difference between textuality and intertextuality and to learn how to apply it to my analysis of the text. Watching Arrow is actually not that different an experience than reading a play or analysing a piece of poetry. There is so much richness, depth and context to consider with this show that oftentimes a lot is lost in initial viewings, and it takes multiple watches to truly understand the depth and breadth of certain scenes. Never is this truer than in any scene that showcases Oliver and Felicity; so if you’ll indulge me, I would like to talk here about that pivotal scene and take it apart section by section. Because of course I have watched it a thousand and one times already, and I am sure that number will only increase as the hiatus continues. Again, this is a long ‘un (seems to be the only way I write these days!) so I’m putting the rest behind the cut. 

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Being A Father

Frost Family AU

When Elsa was born, his first fathers day freaked him out. Usually he was the one sending out his ‘happy fathers day’ text messages to the fathers he knew and carrying on with his day. After Elsa was born, he was that guy now. The one who got the forwarded emails at work, the text messages and the phone calls. It was strange and it took some time to get used to. Now that Elsa was older and had a second one on the way, he had accepted his role.

Except for that Elsa was at that age. The age where she was old enough to string together sentences, put on her own clothes and understand all the ways to act out just to see what would happen. Days like this, all he wanted to do was walk out of the house and drive as far away as possible. 

“Elsa, leave that alone.” Jack said sternly, looking up from the lunch he was packing her. Rapunzel was usually the one who ran the morning routine but Merida had taken her to the hospital for an early morning checkup which left him with the job of getting Elsa to preschool and himself to work.

“But mommy lets me-”

“I’m not mommy, please just leave it alone for now.” he said, looking over his shoulder at the little platinum blonde girl who was trying to change the channel by pushing every button on the remote. Elsa huffed and place the remote back on the coffee table, knowing her father was watching from the kitchen. 

“Elsa, go put your shoes on, we’re going to be late.”

“I dont want to.” Elsa said, her blue eyes on her father while she wiggled her bare toes into the carpet. Jack rolled his eyes and sighed,

“Good thing I didnt ask you. Please, get your shoes on so we can go.”

“I dont want to.” she repeated, plopping herself onto the ground stubbornly. Jack closed her Disney lunch box, his tie was hanging off his shoulders, his hair was a still a mess. He hated to admit it sometimes, but things didnt go smoothly in the mornings without his wife. 

“Elsa Frost, You have five seconds to go put on your shoes or no TV tonight.” he threatened. He hated threatening, punishment was his thing. He was more of the fun parent, the one who turned the front lawn into a slip n’ slide or started snowball fights in the winters. 

Her bottom lip poked out and she hit the ground with her little fists, her pink dress already wrinkled and her hair falling out of its braid. No, morning were not his thing.

“Mommy doesnt wear shoes!”

“Mommy is a grown up and can choose not to wear shoes! you cant!" 

"You’re mean!” Elsa cried while standing up and running towards the front door. Jack watched her grab her shoes and yank them on, hard enough for the lights on the bottom to go crazy for a moment.

Jack sighed and grabbed his briefcase as well as her lunchbox and his car keys, “Do you have your backpack?” he asked, his voice still irritated.

Elsa sniffed, “Yeah.” she said curtly and walked out the door to the car. Jack followed her, both Frosts mirrored each others attitudes.

The stubborn girl wouldnt let him buckle her in because she was mad at him so it turned into sitting in the front seat asking over and over: “Are you buckled in?” and her replying that she was trying. Finally after wasting another five minutes they hit the road, heading straight for the preschool.

Jack grit his teeth as the little girl rolled down at the window a bit before rolling it back up, over and over. His pale hands gripped the wheel and he stared straight ahead, looking in the rear view mirror at her every once in awhile.   

“Elsa, please stop doing that.”

“I’m hot.” she argued, continuing playing with the automatic window. 

“No you’re not, you’re bored. i said stop.” Jack looked at her from the mirror again.

“No, I’m hot.” she said, not even looking at him. This was one of those times. Those days where he just wanted to shake her or just walk away. But he couldn’t do either. He mustered all the patience he could to get to the school.

“Fine! Do what you want!”

After that he was silent, thinking over his mood and his day plans but mostly thinking that he had another one on the way and he wasn’t sure if he could take it. He was still new to all this. Rapunzel seemed to know everything without even trying. She was perfect while he was fumbling around wondering why no one told him how hard it would be raising a child. Most of the time he was winging it, other times he wondered if this was a sign that he was not fit to be a parent. Maybe a fun uncle, but not a father. 

In his thoughts, he never noticed the window had stopped moving or the blue eyes that watched him.

He pulled into the parking lot of the school, putting the car not park before getting out to help Elsa out of her car seat. When he opened the door Elsa was already standing and holding an arm out to him. naturally he picked up her up to help her down when her little arms went around his neck.

“Dont be mad at me.” she said into his shirt.

Everything that had been building in him was gone, deflated with his anger. He hugged her back before setting her down on the ground. He smiled at her and gave her a kiss on the forehead,

“Just not used to doing this without mommy.”

Elsa nodded wisely, “Mommy is good at being mommy.”

Jack laughed, “Yeah, she is.”

Elsa pulled her backpack in front of her and opened it. She stuck out her tongue, coping her mothers habit, before pulling out a folded up piece of  thick red paper. She handed it to him with a smile.

“For me?” he asked, then narrowed his eyes playfully at her, “Its not a trap is it?”

Elsa giggled, “No daddy!”

There was only a moment before another couple of children called out to her. She gave Jack’s legs a quick hug before running over to her preschool teacher and her friends, her little blue light up shoes dancing under her steps.

Jack got back into the car before he opened the large piece of paper. He grinned. There was a horribly beautiful drawing on it of a stick man with a tie and grey scribbled hair holding hands with a smaller stick figure with yellow braids and a blue dress. With snowmen and trees around, large pink crayon lines read out in backwards messy writing,

'I love my daddy’

So maybe this father thing wasnt so bad….

OKAY! My turn to rant.

Points to make in this rant:

-Ford isn’t so bad

-Bill isn’t the ONLY villain

-What I want to see out of a couple of characters

-A couple of tidbits about different characters and perspectives everyone’s missing.

Read more under the cut. It’s long.

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