When do you think Lexa started having feelings for Clarke? Btw I looooooveee the stuff you write <3
I have no doubt that this is when Lexa developed feelings for Clarke. Before their “adventure” with Pauna, the way I see it, Clarke had already evoked intense feelings in Lexa, though not romantic. Everyone has a different opinion about Clarke and Lexa, but no one can say they were ever indifferent to each other.
Lexa is captivated by Clarke from the moment they meet. She is wary but she is intrigued, she is interested, she is fascinated. This young woman fallen from the sky is her enemy and yet Lexa can’t deny the similarities between them. That interest quickly turns into respect. After Clarke kills Finn, Lexa stays with her during the whole funeral and at the end she opens up to Clarke, sharing her painful past and her way of trying to cope with that pain. Love is weakness. We know that in reality Lexa feels A LOT, but that’s not my point here. My point is that, in the only way she knows, she tries to support Clarke. Lexa’s philosophy in later episodes is analyzed in relation to both hers and Clarke’s leadership roles, but in that scene the focus is curiously on their personal feelings. Love, pain, grief. And sure, Lexa is such a wonderfully nuanced character that she manages to also tackle the struggles of leadership during her brief exchange with Clarke, but her first and main focus there is on Clarke’s feelings. She offers her what little comfort she can by revealing to Clarke that she experienced that same loss, that same pain, and by giving her a suggestion to deal with that pain. Lexa wouldn’t open up like that with anyone. She feels a connection with Clarke, right from the start, and probably stronger than she even realizes. That funeral scene is a game changer. It’s a step towards something, but no one knows what that ‘something’ is yet.
It’s not a coincidence that at the beginning of the following episode, this happens.
And then Lexa saves Clarke’s life and Clarke saves Lexa’s and they end up trapped together and Clarke tends to her wounded arm and I could go on forever listing everything that happens between them in that episode. As they are stuck together Clarke proceeds to amuse Lexa with her stubbornness and fire, to impress her with her intelligence and resourcefulness, to touch her with her kindness.
And after Clarke finds a way to get them out, they stop to rest and Lexa spends the night watching over Clarke. She is injured and in pain, but she stays awake and alert and ready to protect Clarke. I can’t get over how beautiful this entire scene is, how intimate. From Clarke’s immediate concern for Lexa. “How’s your arm?” to Lexa admitting to Clarke she was wrong and recognizing her value and strength. I won’t talk about that here, I’ll leave that for another post. But by the end of the scene… we get this.
And this is the moment I believe Lexa realized she had feelings for Clarke. PS. I remember Kim, I think, making a comment about how the heart-eyes were at least in part in the script, so this look is intentional. Yeah, Lexa tries to close her heart and not to care, but you can literally see in her eyes that she realized it’s far too late not to care about Clarke.
‘‘De Balpenmoord’’ (translates to
‘‘the ballpoint pen murder’’) is a famous Dutch murdercase that happened on the 25th of May in 1991. A 53-year-old woman from Leiden died that day because of a ballpoint pen that went through her right orbitinto her sinus, her brains. The pen wasn’t visible anymore from the outside and the woman’s death was almost instant.
Although nobody really knows what happened to the woman, there are a few theories.
Some believe she was murdered by someone who shot the pen with a crossbow. This theory became very likely because the son of the woman told his psychotherapist that he had used a crossbow to shoot his mother. The son got arrested in 1995 and was sentenced to 12 years for murder but was set free in 1996 because experiments proved that the pen couldn’t be shot with a crossbow. Still to this day, lots of other forensics (including Frank van der Goot) are testing this and proving it actually is possible to easily kill someone with a ballpoint pen and crossbow. Eventhough there is enough proof, the ex-suspect can’t get charged again because of ‘‘ne bis in idem’’ (which means that the suspect can’t get punished for the same fact twice). The other theories are that the woman had fallen and the pen somehow got into her eye socket, or that she had comitted suicide by pushing the pen inside her head. This method of suicide is called
They bought the puppy for Christmas. The fire that warmed it was almost like its mother’s fur, the blankets it rested on so close to its sibling’s touch. Small fingers caressed its body. The food was exciting, rich, strong on its tongue. The puppy decided that it would love these ones forever.
They threw it out on Easter. Snow covered the streets. The road was grey, the sky was grey, its nose felt grey and scentless. It had wanted to become strong for them, had done everything to grow quickly. Its fur was thin still, its paws too big for itself and too small for the world. It howled for hours. Nobody returned.
The woman that found it was different. Her hands weren’t small. Her house was tiny and the scents whispered spices across the puppy’s tongue, twisted its ears inside out and back again. She gave it food, and while the puppy ate, her old veiny fingers wove patterns over its head, and she mumbled words it didn’t recognise in a language that sounded like wind and water and the fire’s wrath.
The puppy stayed.
It wasn’t a puppy anymore.
It ate, it ran, it drank the scents and locked up the magic that the woman poured over its fur when the storm roared outside the windows.
October came. The puppy wasn’t a puppy wasn’t a dog anymore. New snow had fallen.
The woman took one look at it and went to the door, opening it wide. “Run and take from them what you want,” she said, smile black and white from teeth and those that were missing. “But after that, you are mine, and the strength I gave you will be faithful to me, and my fire will warm you for as long as your fur returns to my doorstep.”
The hell hound bared its teeth, crossed the threshold, and lifted its heavy head. The scent had never faded from its memory.
They met their puppy again on a dark October night.
And only the small fingers still reached out to it the same as before, and spoke its name in an awed whisper of “there you are”; the large hands that had pushed it aside and filled it with the cold were now, finally, cold.