real talk about alicia clark in 3x05 for a second and how this arc of hers is actually a brilliant piece of storytelling like…
if ftwd was a classic literature novel, your 11th grade english lit teacher would be lecturing on how alicia clark’s self-destructive spiral is an allegory for the millennial let down and apathy of the 21st century.
alicia clark grew up as an upper middle class millennial, in a nice suburb home, with a nice, seemingly well-rounded nuclear family. she and nick probably played little league soccer and have a box in the attic of old metallic plastic trophies.
she tuned out her world in favor of her ipod, lost herself in her studies because she was college would be the key to getting whatever she wanted out of life.
and now? all that pretty, painted ‘you can be whatever you want when you grow up! you can change the world!’ bullshit has been ripped away from her worldview and she sees the truth.
alicia clark could be a normal twenty-something going through her quarter crisis. useless college degree that put her tens of thousands of dollars in debt, dreams of saving the whales and ending world hunger crushed for the monotony of filing papers and learning microsoft excel.
english teacher’s lecture? all those zombies are corporate workers, dragging ass all day to get no where. lost in capitalism, in the draw of their cell phones. no recognition of the world around them, just consume, consume, consume…
alicia clark’s existential crisis is great television because it’s fucking relatable. all the pleasure has been sucked out her life in favor of survival. while she runs from zombies, we’ve got master’s-educated people working for minimum wage (or less). we’ve got brilliant young men and women who are always one mistake away from living on the streets or going without food this month. (or one congressman away from losing our health coverage for vital, lifesaving medications.)
it feels like it’ll never end. the struggle just brings more struggle. there’s little hope.
she tries drugs and sex and activities like cliff diving to feel something, to enjoy a moment in her miserable fucking existence. we… also do drugs and have sex and enjoy high-adrenaline activities lol, but additionally have the luxury of shit like enjoying our avocado toast and sending snapchat videos with silly dog filters and playing pokemon go for 8 hours a day, because if you can’t fucking get anywhere with the skills and degree that you worked on your whole life, at least you can smile for a moment when you finally evolve your bulbasaur.
idk, alicia clark’s existential crisis is brilliant and i’m loving it. rock on, my broken lil bean.
Commissioned by @summylise! Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy it <3
Works count: 7.5K
PS: If you want to feel like I felt, when you get to the fifth scene, start playing “Sign of the Times” by Harry Styles!
Natsu stares through the glass, throat tight as he drinks in
the sight of her, mapping every new curve and freckle on her skin. She’s still
as beautiful as he remembers, even after all these years, but that’s not what
matters to him. No, she’s alive, and that’s more than he could have hoped for.
Lucy’s alive and here and he can see her chest moving with every breath she
takes, her lips pursed in defiance as she stares down Detective Clive, her gaze
bright and as intelligent and shrewd as he remembers. She looks absolutely
fierce and he chokes up at the sight, releasing a shaky exhale and wiping at
his eyes when Gray isn’t looking.
He just wishes that she wasn’t sitting on the opposite side
of the interrogation room’s glass.
“It’s really her,” Natsu murmurs, voice low and gruff, more
strained than he’s ever heard it. His palm presses against the glass, throat
tightening with emotion when Lucy glances around the room, brushing her long
hair away from her eyes. She looks at the glass—to her, a mirror—and, though
unknowingly, her gaze locks with his, honey eyes softening just the slightest,
as if she knows he’s staring back at her. “She’s alive,” he continues, more to
himself than anything.
The look Gray sends him is sympathetic and Natsu hates it,
but he keeps his mouth shut, knowing he won’t be let in if he picks a fight
with Gray over nothing. God, he’s missed her, and she’s right here in front of
him, and he can’t do anything. He barely hears Gray’s affirmative, turning to
look at his partner quickly, the question slipping from his lips without him
meaning to ask. “Can I talk to her?” he asks, voice cracking.
He knows his chances aren’t good. She’s gotten into
something deep, something dangerous, but he’ll be damned before he lets her
disappear again. He needs to talk to her—needs to touch her and make sure this
isn’t just a dream. He’s had them before. He knows how real they can be, but in
his head she always disappears before he can hold her, before he can tell her
“That’s why we called you in,” Gray tells him, clapping him
on the back and sending him a small, strained smile. He knows. Gray’s been with
him since their academy days, so he knows: about Lucy, about the night she
disappeared, about the six years Natsu spent trying to find her, hoping to
whatever gods might be up there that she’d come home.
He simply nods, not trusting himself to speak. Gray reaches
out, tapping on the glass three times in rapid succession. Gildarts glances up,
looking towards the door. He murmurs something to Lucy, who frowns, expression
twisting into one of confusion. She watches Gildarts stand, his back to her as
he leaves the room.
The door clicks open, Gildarts slipping through. He gives
Natsu a brief nod before turning to Gray, dismissing him, and Natsu takes the chance
to slip through the door without another word.
She doesn’t notice him at first, her gaze directed at the
table. It’s not until he walks up to the table, coming around to stand on her
side and ignoring the offered chair, that she looks up, gaze hard and icy. She
recognizes him a moment later, the ferocity leaving her expression as she
stares up at him. Lucy’s mouth drops open, lips parting just the slightest when
she sees him. She mouths his name, eyes never leaving his as she twists around
to face him.
Natsu just stands there, drinking her in, wanting nothing
more than to pull her into his arms, but knowing that he can’t—shouldn’t. She’s
in here because she’s been arrested, and he knows that things aren’t the same
as they were six years ago. They aren’t about to curl up together on his couch,
watching movies until the A.M. and stealing kisses between scenes. God, but he
wishes they were. Six years he’s spent missing her, six years he’s spent
wondering if she was even alive, now here she is, and Natsu can’t even touch
She leans back in her chair, swallowing down the lump in her
throat. Her eyes glisten when she sees him, and he almost reaches out to wipe
away her tears, catching himself at the last moment. Her gaze drifts to the
scar on his throat, something new, and he sees her cringe, something horrified
creeping into her eyes. “Natsu Dragneel,” she breathes, voice quivering as she
tastes his name on her tongue.
He wonders if she repeats it to herself at night like he
does, whispering her name in the darkness, lest he forget how it sounds.
“So you do remember me,” he jokes, voice cracking. There’s
no humor to it. Neither laugh at his pathetic attempt, but he does see a
familiar light reach her eyes, brightening them. Her lips quirk at the edges,
not quite a smile, but as close as he thinks he’ll get. He wets his lips, hand
pressed against the tabletop to ground himself—to keep him from pulling her
into his arms and never letting go.
The fourth chakra is located in the heart. It deals with love, and is blocked by grief. Lay all your grief out in front of you. You have indeed felt a great loss. But love is a form of energy, and it swirls all around us.The Air Nomads love for you has not left this world. It is still inside of your heart, and is reborn in the form of new love. Let the pain flow away.