this is why he is the greatest ever

anonymous asked:

Tell me these Druid Shiro theories please??

I LIVE FOR THEORIES okay so. Let’s start with this post by @angst-in-space about Shiro’s hair being white, and then let’s expand on this a bit:

1. As of season 2, we know for a fact that Haggar is Altean. That means we’ve met three Altean characters who have white hair (Haggar, Allura, and King Alfor). All of them can do magic/manipulate quintessence. We also saw a bunch of other Alteans who don’t have white hair, and we know not all Alteans can use magic, so let’s assume that the white hair is a mark of an Altean’s ability to be a druid/use magic/manipulate quintessence/whatever else you wanna call it.

{see - these Alteans don’t have white hair}

2. Any or all of the Paladins could easily be part Altean, considering the Blue Lion was hidden on Earth. The Blue Paladin could easily have been an Altean. Maybe they brought some other Alteans to Earth with them, as intergalactic refugees, and they lived on Earth in secret. Or maybe that one Altean had kids with a human, starting a human-Altean bloodline. Who knows. Whatever: it’s possible and plausible that any of the Paladins could be part Altean, so we have a means by which Shiro could be a descendent of some Altean bloodline, via the Blue Paladin.

3. Now consider this as a possibility:

  • Shiro is part Altean, via the Blue Paladin’s bloodline. He has the ability to manipulate quintessence, but it’s dormant because he’s never been exposed to it. Consequently, his hair is black.
  • Shiro gets kidnapped by the Galra and proves his worth in the gladiator pits. He catches Haggar’s eye, and she decides to experiment on him. For the first time, he’s exposed to quintessence and druid magic.
  • That exposure causes his dormant druid abilities to activate. His hair turns white. Haggar realises that what she has on her hands is a part-Altean druid who doesn’t know his own abilities, and could be manipulated and controlled to work for Zarkon. He quickly becomes her pet project, because she sees the opportunity to turn him into a powerful weapon.
  • Ulaz realises this too, which is why he helps Shiro escape.

4. What’s that, you say? You want proof? Then consider this:

  • In the S1 finale, Haggar says to Shiro: “You could have been our greatest weapon.” This seems like an odd thing to say to a puny human from a tiny backwater planet no one’s ever heard of, unless of course Shiro is actually an Altean Druid and consequently would have been a very powerful weapon indeed.
  • Remember this theory by @vantasticmess that Shiro’s arm had a shock collar function that he somehow overpowered the first time he used it? It’s cool to think that Shiro could break the safety lock on his Galra arm through willpower alone but… what if he could overpower his arm because he can control quintessence? And therefore he can control the arm and make it do whatever he wants. From that point on, he can activate it at will… but also make it do a bunch of different functions - powering tech, melting or cutting metal, blazing purple sparks. Because he’s a druid, fam.
  • So Allura’s a magical Altean/druid and she powers the wormholes, right? But in S1E1 the Blue Lion makes a wormhole back to Arusia all by itself. Who powered it? PROBABLY SHIRO cos he was in the Lion at the time.
  • When the Paladins first arrive at the Castle of Lions, it gives them an “identity scan”. It then leads them straight to Allura. This seems like an odd thing to do - unless the identity scan revealed that Shiro is an Altean and can therefore be trusted.
  • The only way Zarkon can project onto the astral plane is with the help of Haggar’s magic. But Shiro got there all by himself.

5. The coolest thing about this is that it would explain where Shiro went at the end of season 2. We’ve repeatedly seen the Druids teleport away from enemies. Who’s to say Shiro can’t do the same thing? He’s not in the Lion because he instinctively teleported himself out of it when he sensed he was in danger.

{This is Shiro using his druid abilities to control the quintessence in his Galra arm so he can overpower it FIGHT ME FAM DRUID SHIRO 4LYFE}

In short: SHIRO IS AN ALTEAN DRUID WHO CAN DO MAGIC AND MAKE WORMHOLES

[edit] this theory also has a part two about Shiro’s arm {here}

rogelio de la vega is honestly the best male character ive ever seen on television 

  • he doesnt give a shit about masculinity. moisturizing, avocado masks, etc.
  • the episode where he realizes how attractive rafael was, and he was so unapologetic about it.
  • he openly became best friends with his daughter’s lover, instead of trying to act like that stereotypical father thats mean to the man his daughter dates.
  • him renaming his grandson, matelio. 
  • his obsession with twitter.
  • he puts his family first all the time, i literally want to cry, he’s such a good man. 
  • he compliments people in the cutest way ever. :(
  • he loves shopping for clothes.
  • he knows the importance of lighting when it comes to photo taking.
  • ‘why are you so afraid of having your pelvis touch mine?’
  • his dedication to concealer is the greatest thing ive ever seen. 
  • when he left the AC running for 30 minutes and explained by saying ‘i didnt want your makeup to run’ on jane’s wedding day, what a dad! 
  • he owns up to his mistakes whenever he can. ie: when he told xo to get an abortion. 
  • he knows damn well that he can dance. 
  • HIS SKIN CARE DEDICATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • when he payed for jane’s education and literally set up a fake scholarship so she wouldn’t find out that the money was coming from him, like come on…
  • him constantly calling michael is best friend :( 
  • his moment of blatantly checking out rafael’s ass on the elevator one time after saying ‘i never realized how attractive you were until now’
  • again, he doesn’t give a shit about masculinity. 
How They Feel About PDA (Avengers Preference)

I am the worst! Sorry guys! Between a full course load and two jobs I’m drowning a little, but I still really love you guys!

~~~

Tony Stark:

He loves it (the little shit). He likes to make sure everyone around knows exactly who you’re with. Since you refuse to wear the t-shirt that says “Property of Tony Stark” (even though he wears his “Property of Y/N” all the time) he’s gotta let people know some other way. He doesn’t go so far as to touch you inappropriately (maybe a quick slap or pinch on your “perfect” butt but nothing more than that). Kisses, however, are a different story. Quick pecks in the grocery story line, heated kisses in front of the press, tender kisses in front of the team before they leave on a mission. Tony doesn’t care what others are thinking, he just wants you to know his feelings for you, and the best way to do that is with his lips on yours.

Steve Rogers:

Steve isn’t exactly embarrassed by PDA. Sure it wasn’t highly approved of back in the day, but c’mon he was best friends with THE Bucky Barnes, so he was rather used to PDA. So no, Steve wasn’t embarrassed by PDA, it was more that Steve was surprised someone wanted to display PDA with him. Yeah he was bigger and muscular now, but he still remembered all those dates he had been dragged on where the girl didn’t even bother to learn his name, let alone let the rest of the world know they were together. So when you grab his hand and kiss him in front of everyone like you hope the world is watching he’s shocked, rather than embarrassed, that such an amazing and beautiful girl would care to claim him. 

Bucky Barnes:

While it took him a while to warm back up with the idea (just like with everything else), Bucky was soon back to his charming, PDA loving self. While he loves holding your hand, he prefers to place his hand on the small of you back since you can’t wander as far away. And he loves to drop small kisses to your forehead, temple, of nose when you make him laugh (whether from cracking a joke or because you “just look so cute when you’re frustrated”). He also loves leaning his forehead against yours and gently nudging your nose with his when you’re having hushed discussions in the middle of a crowded room. Bucky loves to feel your skin on his in anyway he can. And while he prefers you not hold his metal hand, it’s mostly because he knows he can protect you better if he has it free. 

Bruce Banner:

Surprisingly Bruce doesn’t mind PDA. While he’s almost never the one to initiate it, he’s not about to pull away when you grab his hand and kiss him in public. He likes the kisses you press to his cheek when he knows you’re being possessive, or the ones you press to his lips when he knows you’re drawing strength from him. And even though he loves the kisses you initiate most, he’s not afraid to initiate a few moments of his own. When he needs calming down you can feel his lips press firmly to your temple, or when he’s feeling particularly protective he’ll wrap you up in his arms shooting glares at anyone who gets too near. 

Clint Barton:

It’s not that Clint doesn’t like PDA, it’s more that Clint is too preoccupied watching the world and dangers around him to do anything more than hold your hand or press a quick kiss to your forehead. When you’re out and about he’s often found looking at the guy acting slightly sketchy across the room rather than looking at the shirt you’re trying to make him get. But it’s fine because as soon as your lips make contact with his and he recovers, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, and forgetting about the rest of the world, since his world is wrapped securely in his tight embrace. 

Pietro Maximoff:

Believe it or not, but Pietro actually gets super embarrassed with PDA. Growing up with just him and Wanda, other kids often teased him when he would act sweetly towards his sister. While that never stopped him from caring it has caused him to be slightly more reserved when it came to showing physical affection. It took him a while to get comfortable holding your hand in public (but he eventually got used to it when he realized other guys were staring at what was his, and even though he’s embarrassed by PDA he’s way too possessive to let it slide). But Pietro definitely still blushes when your lips sweep his cheek, and his wide eyes will make a quick sweep of the room to make sure not too many people are watching as he returns the favor.

Thor Odinson:

Thor loves PDA. Too much. It honestly doesn’t matter where you guys are. Whether you’re window shopping in Midtown, or in the middle of SHIELD HQ, he’ll simply sweep you into his arms and kiss you senseless. People have tried to tell him why he isn’t allowed to basically frisk you in front of everyone, but he hasn’t quite gotten it yet. Apparently in Asgard it is a great sign of how successful a King’s reign will be when he loves his Queen enough to show physical affection in public, and he definitely loves his Queen. So while your Midgardian friends may get a little uncomfortable with the way Thor kisses you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive, your Asgardian friends simply cheer at the sign of what surely looks like the greatest reign Asgard will ever see. 

Loki Laufeyson:

Loki kind of hates PDA. He hates looking weak in front of others, and he’ll be honest (with you)- you’re his weakness. So while he’s more than happy to have you stand by his side, he would prefer if you both kept your hands to yourselves until you were in private. The only time his rule wavers is before he goes off to do something stupid and possibly not come back, or after you have done stupid and got hurt. In those few instances he has no qualms about fiercely pressing his lips to yours and letting you feel all of his emotions rolled into that one kiss, no matter who is watching. 

Sam Wilson:

Oh Sam. While he doesn’t like to make out or blatantly show you off in public, he does enjoy small and sweet signs of PDA. He likes to wrap his arms from behind you while you wait in line and hum the jeopardy theme song in your ear. He likes to sneak up behind you while you’re looking at a book and swiftly kiss you on the cheek. He likes to give you eskimo kisses when he knows you’re mad at him. He likes to carry you bridal style to breakfast and to bed when you’re too sleepy to walk and you cuddle into his chest. He loves to show you he loves you in the little things, because he knows that that is what truly matters.

Scott Lang:

Scott is kind of childish in his PDA (like most other things). Think high school boy with his first girlfriend. Heated kisses and some light frisking no matter where you are or who’s watching. His arm’s always around your shoulder to make sure people know you’re his and so he can keep you close. It often makes you roll your eyes because you know he can be sweet and sensitive, but he keeps that to closed doors. He would prefer to make you blush when people find you straddling his lap, or make you laugh when Tony has to loudly clear his throat for the third time because you’re making out in front of his lab… again. It’s what makes Scott, Scott.

T’Challa:

T’Challa is a reserved man. He prefers to keep his private matters private, and that includes you guys’ relationship. So while you guys are out and about the most the paps will ever catch is hand holding or a guiding hand to the small of your back. But that isn’t the full story. Anyone working inside the palace or Avengers HQ will tell you that you two always have skin to skin, but more like lip to lip, contact. The servants and fellow Avengers have seen it all. From T’Challa randomly pushing you up against a wall to “suck your face off”, to him pulling you in for a close dance as he presses his forehead against yours and looks into your eyes as he hums your favorite song to you. T’Challa is a reserved and private man, but still a man who is deeply and madly in love. 

~~~

Again I’m so sorry guys! I hope this is okay! I didn’t have time to edit because I’m just trying to get it out there for you guys, but I hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it! (Also there are over 2000 of you?! WHAT?! Love you all dearly!)

  —  —  —  BUZZFEED UNSOLVED SENTENCE STARTERS

‘  strap in ‘cause this one is rough.  ’
‘  it’s– it’s yucky.  ’
‘  i’m aware of some details of this and it’s– it’s yucky.  ’
‘  i’m not a gambling man, but i don’t really like those odds.  ’
‘  we could conceivably run into this guy taking a dump in the woods or something.  ’
‘  are you fucking out of your mind?  ’
‘  i’m starting to think you want to die.  ’
‘  you turned a corner on that one pretty quick.  ’
‘  oh my god, it’s fucking horrifying.  ’
‘  there’s an elk, though. there’s a deer over there.  ’
‘  here’s the remains and rubble of one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of all time and you’re looking at the fucking deer in the forrest.  ’
‘  maybe they were in there telling ghost stories.  ’
‘  that’s not what pillow talk is, i don’t think.  ’
‘  pillow talk could either mean something you do after sex or it could mean what’s like sleepover talk.  ’
‘  do you tell ghost stories after sex?  ’
‘  all very effective for– for murder.  ’
‘  they stabbed him so hard that the knife bent.  ’
‘  you would think that there’d be at least one witness.  ’
‘  you see someone running through the forrest covered in blood, you’re probably not gonna bat an eye.  ’
‘  that’s not how the forrest works.  ’
‘  excuse me, sir. why are you covered in blood?  ’
‘  i’m glad to know that you would be the worst crime scene witness of all time.  ’
‘  oh, you were phrasing it in a dramatic way.  ’
‘  what is it about killers– that they want to be caught so badly… or like they want to get as close to being caught without being caught?  ’
‘  i can’t put my mind into the mind of a criminal.  ’
‘  i can put my mind into the mind of a criminal.  ’
‘  some of them must be friends, others would like to plunge knives into each other.  ’
‘  i can imagine one friend of yours murdering you.  ’
‘  i’m pretty sure there was a coverup by the police department.  ’
‘  70′s and 80′s police were always just like, ‘oh, you murdered someone? you got forty bucks?’  ’
‘  great! what else do you want?! i murdered people for you! and now… what?  ’
‘  oh, so i’m the psycho cause i murdered for you!?  ’
‘  what, the police were just writing fan fiction?  ’
‘  this is just baffling to me.  ’
‘  i guess that’s their job, but can you imagine how much goddamn paperwork is involved in that? so much!  ’
‘  i’m pretty sure we’re being watched, so i kind of wanna leave, to be honest.  ’
‘  i’ve had enough of this place and i haven’t even been here that long. i hate this place.  ’
‘  this boogeyman is very thorough.  ’
‘  i guess we’re lucky he got lazy.  ’
‘  the greatest safety precautions of our time are written in blood.  ’
‘  i think they’re tired of this ongoing saga that never ends.  ’
‘  you know, i actually disagree with that last sentiment.  ’
‘  this is like straight-up end of days shit going on.  ’
‘  this could’ve been the beginning of the zombie apocalypse, in my mind.  ’
‘  i’ve daydreamed about having an amazing bunker that has satellite tv.   ’
‘  ‘bad advil’ sounds like a shitty indie band.  ’
‘  the wild west was the 80′s.  ’
‘  in the 80′s you could walk in a store, pocket a soda, punch a guy in the face, and then be like ‘see ya later. fuck you!’ cops wouldn’t get to your door for weeks.  ’
‘  he had books that were just titled ‘how to crime’? if he had a book called ‘how to crime’ then there’s your guy.  ’
‘  oh, yeah… nah, i’m good. eh, bit of a reach.  ’
‘  some old lady in florida bought the unabomber’s typewriter?  ’
‘  maybe this guy was really in the dog house and was just desperate for any kind of turn of affection from her so he thought, ‘i know that i’ll do! i’ll write the fbi!’  ’
‘  no, i didn’t– what, is there anything to suggest that i would chase my mom with an axe?  ’
‘  i think you wear a mask sometimes.  ’
‘  maybe you should keep digging and see what happens.  ’
‘  these are two messed up weirdos who have found each other and it’s almost a shockingly beautiful love story.  ’
‘  i don’t get it. i just wanna talk about my work and everyone just keeps seeming to bring up all my past of all the shitty stuff i’ve done.  ’
‘  ugh, this guy’s gross.  ’
‘  it must’ve been fun to be a criminal in the 80′s.  ’
‘  everything before the 80′s – just lawless.  ’
‘  get your sunglasses ready because this one is packed full of bright stars.  ’
‘  i’m good to go. i’m always ready, baby!  ’
‘  it came true so she was actually warranted in all these fears.  ’
‘  this would be like if you were eaten by a shark.  ’
‘  i thought for a second we were talking about things that are actually scary.  ’
‘  i’m gonna let this slide because i know you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.  ’
‘  does that man have a magical penis or something?  ’
‘  you think the only reason someone would go back to someone is because they have a magical penis?  ’
‘  i feel like divorce is probably a lot of work.  ’
‘  do you not know how love works?  ’
‘  maybe i don’t know how love works.  ’
‘  i have a hard time imagining someone going gaga over christopher walken.  ’
‘  i bet when you get in a room with christopher walken, he commands the space.  ’
‘  i brought some cocktail weenies.  ’
‘  one of my greatest fears is that someone will trick me into doing heroin.  ’
‘  that’s the dumbest fear i’ve ever heard in my life.  ’
‘  how many situations can you be in that would put you up to that potential danger?  ’
‘  how many parties are you going to where heroin’s involved? it seems like a lot.  ’
‘  it’s the fear that someone would come up to me on the street and put heroin in me and then i’m hooked forever.  ’
‘  here’s what must’ve happened… these forty things, in succession.  ’
‘  what are you trying to do, fuck my wife?  ’
‘  why would he make this up?  ’
‘  he– he was just trying to fuck someones wife.  ’
‘  i can’t imagine murdering someone even when drunk.  ’
‘  when you drink you can imagine murdering someone?!  ’
‘  i ate a pumpkin once when i was drunk… i just took a bite out of a pumpkin.  ’
‘  that’s a rational fear!  ’
‘  that is not a rational fear!  ’
‘  these are the musings of a paranoid man.  ’

  • Lance: *makes eye contact with Keith*
  • Lance's mind: goddamnit Keith is so fucking hot I always tell him I hate his mullet but it's actually kinda cute what did I do to deserve this why have I been blessed to know this amazing person named Keith Kogane he is the greatest friend I could ever meet why the fuck am I like this I wanna hug him and kiss him and love him goddamnit-
  • Lance: Fuck off, mullet
Selfhood in “Call Me By Your Name”

Spoilers included


I will start with the end.

Loss implies a decrease, an absence. It is subtraction, taking a part away from a whole. But the loss that follows love is something different—it is alive, present inside of you, stealing your breath, whispering in your ear. Remember this place? Remember this feeling? It is a profound pain, tethered to the joy that preceded it. Call Me By Your Name lives in the wounds that love creates–the spikes of fear and overwhelming need that force you to open up a space in yourself for someone else to inhabit. The feeling of enveloping them, of them enveloping you. And finally, predictable and wrenching, the hole they leave when they are gone.

The lovers are 17-year-old Elio (Timothée Chalamet) and twenty-something Oliver (Armie Hammer). It is the summer of 1983, and Elio’s summertime inertia at his family’s Northern Italian villa is disrupted by the arrival of his father’s research assistant, Oliver. Elio is our protagonist, and thus we regard the visitor with a cautious remove at the film’s start. He is first glimpsed from above—a flash of golden hair, tanned skin and enviable height—as the camera peeks at him from Elio’s upper-floor bedroom window. “He seems very confident,” Elio says to a friend, smirking.

At the breakfast table, the camera cuts to a close-up of Oliver’s Star of David necklace; Elio, too, is Jewish, but seems to wonder how he could hold anything in common with Oliver. Elio is irked by the easy and voracious way that Oliver occupies space; the newcomer flops onto Elio’s bed with barely a word, and in the morning he gulps apricot juice and devours a breakfast egg as if these surroundings were created to bend to his will. Elio, by contrast, enjoys quietly reading and composing music. He is brilliant but unformed, and seems threatened or envious of Oliver’s seemingly brazen projection of self.

I saw this film three times in one week, on a Monday, a Thursday and a Sunday. I revisited it in part because Chalamet is so enrapturing as Elio that I barely processed Oliver’s interiority the first time I watched the movie. That is no fault of Hammer’s; he gives Oliver substance and charm. But for a large portion of the film, Elio does not recognize the nature of his feelings toward Oliver, and once he does, he can’t discern if they are reciprocated. Oliver’s motivations are a mystery to both viewer and protagonist; we only know that Elio is drawn to the very boldness that at first alienated him from Oliver, and the hint of melancholy beneath Oliver’s beauty. Elio’s attraction is crystallized in the much-memed scene in which Elio watches Oliver dance with abandon to the Psychedelic Furs’ Love My Way. It’s all there in Chalamet’s brilliant performance; Elio is conflicted, but enamored. He begins to pursue Oliver romantically, and the camera drinks up the object of Elio’s affection, as in a particularly gorgeous shot of Hammer’s back as he wades in a sun-dappled river, the camera low, tipped skyward to face this Platonic ideal of a man. 

Director Luca Guadagnino and cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom construct Elio and Oliver’s love story through atmosphere rather than dialogue. Sings Sufjan Stevens, who provides much of the soundtrack, “Words are futile devices.” We do not know what Elio and Oliver discuss on their meandering bicycle rides through the countryside. Guadagnino prefers to meditate on the winding road, the whisper of leaves in summer breezes, the villa’s creaking stairwells and slamming doors. Much of the conversation we are privy to is coded and barbed with defensiveness. “What are you thinking about?” Oliver asks Elio as they lounge in the pool. “It’s private,” Elio responds from behind his Risky Business sunglasses. Oliver hops out of the water with a chuckle and begins to help Elio’s mother pick fruit from their orchard. Elio hurries behind him, pushing Oliver to the side and taking his place under the tree. At the river, Elio gazes at Oliver adoringly, then splashes him with water and jumps atop his back. These chances to brush against one another, to fuse body with body and bodies with place, are their love language, and the orchards and gentle waves of Northern Italy that summer will be more indelible to their memories of that love than any words.

Except, of course, the titular line. “Call me by your name, and I’ll call you by mine,” Oliver offers Elio. The scene is a turning point in our understanding of Oliver. He, too, longs to be consumed by the love affair. He seems to be the more experienced lover of the pair, and approaches Elio’s youth tenderly. In one of my favorite scenes, Elio gets a nosebleed during a fraught dinner-table conversation and retreats to a hideaway in the bowels of the villa, where Oliver finds and comforts him. There is an innocence to the scene; Elio and Oliver regard the older adults fighting at the dinner table almost as aliens, and when Elio appeals to the housekeeper for ice, she sends him to an empty fridge. Elio goes looking elsewhere–the adults are no help. But Guadagnino stays on the fridge door, which Elio has left hanging open. The housekeeper comes over and slams it shut. We can imagine her muttering about children as she does so. The scene typifies the in-between world that Elio has found himself in. He is not a child, but not yet an adult. The discovery of love and sex, its pleasures and pains, is the discovery of that selfhood. Oliver seems aware of this transitionary period, and is at once eager to love and be loved by Elio, and afraid to push him too far, too fast. “It wasn’t my fault, right?” he asks when he finds Elio, bloody rag to his nose. “No,” Elio responds, embarrassed. “I’m a mess.” Oliver gives him a foot massage, a care-taking technique he learned from his Bubbe, he explains. “You’re gonna fucking kill me if you do that,” Elio exclaims at the intensity of the massage. “I hope not,” Oliver replies, gazing at Elio. He takes his foot and kisses it gently.

Oliver’s slow, assured consent to the relationship conveys his longing and fear, and ultimately you sense that his fears are not only for the safety of Elio’s young heart, but also for his own. Guadagnino focuses in on Oliver in the final third of the film, bathing Hammer in moonlight as Oliver reflects upon the relationship in its final days. We watch him watch Elio, the tables finally turned, and sense the impending grief that Oliver’s departure will visit upon the couple. Elio cannot foreshadow this pain, because he has not yet felt it, but Oliver seems to know what is coming. We see that Elio’s initial impressions of Oliver’s arrogant nonchalance were in fact his defense mechanisms, his attempt to wall off yearning. Hammer is careful to reveal Oliver’s layers, subtly imbuing him with a deep empathy and guardedness. 

The intensity with which we buy into Oliver’s feelings, not just Elio’s, is central to the film’s gut-punch of an ending. When Oliver calls in winter to inform Elio and the family of his surprise engagement, his lover breathes into the phone, “Elio. Elio, Elio, Elio.” Oliver draws in a long breath. “I remember everything,” he declares. And you know it is true. Elio almost smiles at this confession, not out of joy, but out of transcendent pain. He loved, and was loved, and that makes it all the more impossible to let go. And so we end with the devastating final shot, certainly one of the greatest I have ever had the privilege of seeing. “I have loved you for the last time,” Sufjan Stevens sings, as Chalamet lays bare Elio’s grief. The second and third times I saw the movie, my heart began to pound as we drew near the scene. Why sit through it? Why stay with his suffering for those long final minutes, as the credits role? Because you must hold onto it, the film argues. All of it. The agony, yes. But also the ecstasy that built it. You must feel it, and let if form you.  

Harry trying to name their kid--
  • Draco: No.
  • Harry: But--
  • Draco: No, I said no.
  • Harry: Why?!
  • Draco: Let's see... because I love our son?!
  • Harry: So do I!
  • Draco: DO YOU?! No loving parent would name their kid Albus-Severus!
  • Harry: They were two of the greatest wizards known to--
  • Draco: One of them lied to you all your life and raised you like a pig for slaughter. The other one despised the very sight of you.
  • Harry: Snape sacrificed himse--
  • Draco: He just wanted to fuck your mum, may her soul rest in peace!
  • Harry: Our son would command respect with a name like that!
  • Draco: He would literally never get laid. Ever.
  • Harry:
  • Harry: So, what did you have in mind? Scorpius? Scorpius is good.

reasons why The Party (s1 ep16) is the single greatest brooklyn nine nine - nay, comedy tv show - episode ever made and i’ll probably never ever get tired of watching it:

- strong underlying plot surrounding the discrimination against race and sexuality perpetuated by the NYPD and how awful and hurtful and gross that behaviour is

- zero dancing around the above subject, even going so far as to bluntly describe the perpetrators of the discrimination as “many of whom look exactly like you” to the white cishet male protagonist

- consequent acknowledgement of said protagonist of the crappiness of the behaviour even though he himself has never expressed even a hint of being prejudiced (he doesn’t get defensive, or scoff and brush it off, or say “Well, NOT ME”; Jake’s uncomfortable with emotions, sure, and says so, but not once in that scene does he dismiss Kevin’s concerns as not applying to him - rather, he demonstrates with his actions how much he (and the rest of the squad) care about and respect Captain Holt)

- kevin cozner is unfortunately not the star of danzes with wolvez

- [terrible falsetto] “Raymond, those slacks are a knockout!”

- the entire trope setup of the squad being in a Super Affluent Adult Situation, suddenly magnifying their collective weirdo-ness by showing how whacky their regular shenanigans really are in a normal Real World setting

- a party, no less

- for their boss’s birthday

- oh man

- “don’t move in a group! you’re not gazels!!”

- Charles having to put on Terry’s fifty-sizes-too-big cardigan to hide the massive salsa stain on his shirt

- “this fits so well, Terry, we have such similar physiques!”

- the hecnking. the fact that to any outside observer who did not Know amy santiago and jake peralta, watching them sneak upstairs one right after the other with no context could have only been interpreted as “they’re gonna go bang”, when, in fact, banging was the last thing on either of their minds

- they were instead concerned with trying to either a) back the unfortunate pro-slavery stance they’d accidentally backed themselves into or b) heinously violate the captain’s privacy by cataloguing the presence of “how it’s made: contact lenses” on his DVR, oh my God

- “we’re could have been really cool people! we weren’t, but we could have been!”

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Paladin and Villain Interactions in VLD

Most of the interactions between the Paladins and the villains have been nothing more than physical confrontations. 

The best poignant, angsty interaction between a paladin and a “villain” was season one’s conversation between Sendak and Shiro, where Sendak preys upon Shiro’s insecurities about his time with the Galra, his new arm, and his role as a paladin. 

After that, Allura meets up with Zarkon, her father’s former BFF who killed Alfor, and yet they just exchange bitter words about the upcoming battle.

No gut-wrenching discussion, like “How could you kill my father?” Or even a few lines about Allura’s feelings concerning Zarkon’s betrayal. As far as we know, Zarkon might have been like an uncle to Allura. How could they just keep the conversation about Voltron’s imminent attack and not dive into their history? (Perhaps it was done off-screen, but if so, that’s even worse. Show us the discussion!) 

On to Season 2, where Zarkon and Shiro fight in the astral plane, and they just bicker about the Black Lion. Not once does Shiro even question his right to Black during the fight. It’s, again, just a physical confrontation. Granted, we find out that trust is the motivating factor between the Black Lion and his paladin (which leads into Keith piloting Black since Shiro trusts him), but this should have been a gut-wrenching scene of discovery. Instead, it’s just a MMA fight. 

And now with Lotor, we just get -

Battle -

Batte - 

Battle. 

And Lotor’s fight seems to be more with Haggar and the empire than with the paladins. 

Give me Lotor speaking to Keith about his Galra-ness and trying to lure Keith (to no avail) to the empire. Give me Lotor trying to lure Pidge with information about her brother and father. Give me Haggar explaining to Shiro why he would have been their greatest weapon and how he still can be. Give me Allura giving Zarkon the biggest guilt-trip ever and him remembering all the adventures he had with Alfor. 

Give me a plot line where the heroes and villains interact/battle on an emotional level, not just on a physical one. Show us that their battles are with each other and not just amongst themselves. 

I need all of you to appreciate the fact that Psych has the absolute best episode titles of any show ever. For instance:

  • Woman Seeking Dead Husband: Smokers Okay, No Pets
  • He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not, He Loves Me, Oops He’s Dead!
  • Cloudy… With a Chance of Murder
  • Poker? I Barely Know Her
  • Meat Is Murder, But Murder Is Also Murder
  • If You’re So Smart, Then Why Are You Dead?
  • The Old and the Restless
  • Shawn (and Gus) of the Dead
  • Murder? … Anyone? … Anyone? … Bueller?
  • The Greatest Adventure in the History of Basic Cable
  • Disco Didn’t Die. It Was Murdered
  • Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing
  • Earth, Wind and… Wait for It
  • Tuesday the 17th
  • The Devil’s in the Details… and the Upstairs Bedroom
  • You Can’t Handle This Episode
  • Feet Don’t Kill Me Now
  • Chivalry Is Not Dead… But Someone Is
  • One, Maybe Two, Ways Out
  • This Episode Sucks
  • Indiana Shawn and the Temple of the Kinda Crappy, Rusty Old Dagger
  • Lock, Stock, Some Smoking Barrels and Burton Guster’s Goblet of Fire

and my personal favorite: Gus’ Dad May Have Killed an Old Guy

2

Jim and Barbara: One of the greatest parental relationships I have ever seen portrayed in the media. 

I can’t tell you why I love these two moments so much. Is it the love you can practically feel through the screen? The hypermasculinity that’s being stumped on? 

It’s both-it’s all! Seriously, I love this show for many reasons, but one of the reasons is for this: throwing away the usual stereotypes and revealing them in a positive light. I LOVE that Jim is emotional and caring and kind. It makes him real and - well - lovable. I adore that he can show these feelings without being judged. 

I’m glad that they put in some effort to see Jim and Barbara again. I was worried we wouldn’t see her at all. 

Why queerbaiting is Supernatural’s biggest problem (and what we can do about it):

1. The subtext is obvious:

I doubt anyone in this universe is a bigger Destiel shipper than me.  In my humble opinion, Dean and Castiel’s relationship is the greatest love story ever told, and no one can convince me otherwise.  

Even from a platonic standpoint, the poignancy of their relationship is undeniable:  Castiel was introduced by his saving Dean from eternal damnation, he sacrifices everything for Dean on the regular, he died for him more than three times, and generally speaking, Dean is more important to him than anything else in the world. 

Similarly, Dean prays to Cas regularly, spent a year searching for him in purgatory, and, with the exception of Sam, Castiel appears to be the most important person currently in Dean’s life. 

But the subtext – and the sexual tension – is also undeniable.  

Similarly, even without Cas, Dean bisexuality is alluded to throughout the series.  As with his relationship with Cas, there is no doubt in my mind at this point that Dean swings both ways.

I know it, a large portion of the fandom knows it, and I’m pretty sure the writers know it.  

Which brings me to my next point:

2.  The writers are aware of it:

Aside from the fact that several situations are clearly written to be suggestive and that in season 9, Castiel was literally written as “feeling like a jilted lover”…

…the writers have given nods to the Destiel and Wincest fandoms throughout the series. 

Amusing as this may be, it also tells us that the writers are fully aware of the implications of Dean’s sexuality and his relationship with Castiel.

And yet: 

3.  They don’t appear to have any intentions of making it canon, yet they continue to capitalize on it:  over the past several seasons, I’ve noticed an unfortunate pattern:  scenes are written to implicate a romantic connection between Dean and Castiel, only for it to be negated in a “no-homo” moment shortly afterwards. 

(Credit to @some-people-call-it-tragic for these GIFs and examples).

As further evidence of this, we’ve had the writers cut scenes between Dean and Cas that are not only emotionally powerful, but important to the plot and to character development in general, apparently exclusively for the reason that they go just a little too far in implicating that Dean and Castiel’s relationship might become canon.

In season seven, for example, a scene was cut in which Dean tells Cas/Emmanuel that “part of him always believed he would come back.”

In season eight, scenes were cut in which Dean prayed to Cas, and later, in which Dean breaks Naomi’s hold on Cas by telling him he loves him. 

And most recently, in season ten, a scene was cut in which Castiel tells Rowena that his relationship with Dean means more to him than any victory he’s ever won in heaven.

If this isn’t dangling the possibility of queer representation in front of the proverbial nose of the fandom, I don’t know what is. 

4.  What’s stopping them:

Sadly, this kind of queerbaiting is nothing knew in modern media, though in this case, it is rather extreme.  And for the most part, I’d assume the SPN writers are driven to do so by the same thing that motivates most writers to queerbait their audiences:  the ability to toe the line of acceptability between the LGBT/pro-LGBT and more conservative factions of the fandom without suffering the negative repercussions of featuring canonically LGBT characters.

However, if they were actually up on the demographics of their own viewers, they would know that a confirmation of Dean’s bisexuality and relationship with Cas would actually be beneficial: Destiel is currently the most reblogged M/M ship on social media, and has more fanfiction and fan art than any of its counterparts.  Similarly, more than 85% of fans polled said they would continue watching if Destiel became canon, and they would no doubt gain new viewership with the addition of queer main characters.  

One factor that may be preventing them is – and I really don’t want to offend anyone here – the Wincest/bibro shippers, along with the small but very vocal (and presumably blind) part of the fandom that believes wholeheartedly that Dean is straight. 

Many Wincest shippers and bibros may be perfectly nice, but every week in which Castiel or Dean’s relationship with him is mentioned, they collectively appear to go on a social media rampage, complete with childish tags such as “destiew” or “destihell.”  (I’ve never seen any other fans do this – even when we complain about Wincest shippers, we do so with the simple tag, “anti-wincest.”)  No need for derogatory terms or hatred towards actors, or even towards the characters they portray.  As a group, they also appear to be more inclined to resist anything that might shift the focus of the show away from Sam and Dean’s/Jared and Jensen’s relationship, from Cas, to Destiel, to Misha, to the YANA campaign, to the Wayward Daughters and the possibility of a spinoff revolving around them.

Their view of Dean’s sexuality is also…complex.  Many Wincest shippers I’ve interacted with have actually claimed that Dean is straight, which I find perplexing, considering they support his having sexual relations with his brother.  If you are a (friendly) Wincest shipper, feel free to contact me to let me know what your reasoning is, because I’m legitimately curious.

Now, from what I can tell, these fans produce more hate than any other portion of the fandom, yet their numbers are actually surprisingly small. 

Of all fans/shippers polled, 83% shipped Destiel while less than 17% shipped Wincest.  Destiel shippers outweigh the Wincest shippers almost 9 to 1 – the Wincest shippers are just LOUDER.

That said, no portion of the fandom takes responsibility for the prevalence of queerbaiting on Supernatural.  That responsibility falls squarely on the writers.  

5.  What we can do about it:

As a fandom, we’ve proven we hold a lot of influence over the show:  we kept it going through the dark time that was season seven.  We, through sheer popular demand, made Castiel a main character, and two seasons later, forced the writers to resurrect him when they killed him off.

So, if enough of us raise our voices, I feel certain the writers could be persuaded to give us what we want:

1.  Dean to be canonically bisexual.  Aside from the fact that to have a bi main character would provide invaluable LGBT representation, Dean’s coming to terms with his own preferences would also represent drastic character development.

2.  Canon Destiel. If it hadn’t been alluded to for the past seven years, I would not be so insistent on this issue:  if they don’t make it canon at this point, it’s queerbaiting, plain and simple. 

3.  And, while we’re at it more strong female, POC, and disabled characters.  A Wayward Daughters spinoff would be a fantastic start towards more representation within the SPN universe.

 So never hesitate to speak up!  Polite but assertive tweets to the writers (the cast is not responsible for the issue, and should not be addressed for it) could be extremely beneficial, and pave the way towards greater representation of the LGBT community within Supernatural and modern media, an end to the queerbaiting, and the romance we all appear to want. 

In the words of my good friend @torigirl103, #ThisIsOurYear!

  • me: wow what a good day
  • brain: remember that bruce carried a picture of jason with him everywhere after he died
  • me: this day can get fucked

anonymous asked:

Full, honest, and brutal opinion on FLW. Please?

HAHAHA! Sounds like you are not a fan.

In my opinion, Frank Lloyd Wright is a unique character in the history of architecture because he stands alone, he does not seem to belong to any major movement or ideal. He was a visionary seeking in his design that magical nexus where architecture and nature coexist in balance. I don’t count myself as one of those that consider him the greatest ever or a genius without equal but I do admire his tenacity and incredible ability to continually challenge himself and experiment with new and different design solutions. He could have coasted and done Prairie Style Houses all his life or copied Fallingwater twenty times, but he didn’t. All his projects were not successful, and some of the designs we love had major design flaws, but I admire the fact that he pushed the boundaries as he did. That is why I consider him one of the masters, he was a transitional architect with a wealth of projects, each unique and different. He created some projects that have become icons, rightly so, that continue to inspire architects a century after.

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I can’t stop thinking about the difference between relationship Walter has with the crew of the Covenant and that David has with the crew of the Prometheus.

Of course, in Covenant shit hits the fan much earlier when the solar flares hit the ship, but still. When the Captain dies, no one questions that Walter should be there to drink to him. (It’s an interesting mirror to the scene where Shaw and Holloway talk to Meredith in her ‘office’ for the first time, in which David is mixing and serving drinks and is basically treated as if he’s invisible to the humans) Walter is also there in the scene in The Last Supper - he holds back, but that’s obviously his own choice and he’s immediatly there when he’s needed and they thank him. No one seems to mind having him around. (In Prometheus, Shaw once says thank you to him. The woman David says is the only who ever showed him any kindness)  Walter’s even in their group picture.

David on the other hand. We never really see him interacting with humans in such a way. Let’s not forget, what level of sentinence or whatever understanding of emotion David has, he is designed to be more human than Walter. But…we usually see him show the greatest level of humanity when there are no humans around. Then he plays basketball, rides a bicycle around the ship, watches Lawrence of Arabia, dyes his hair, probably plays billard (why else would the balls already be on the table?)  

And this isn’t saying that David isn’t a social creature. In Covenant, he tries to befriend a fucking Neomorph and waits around to be there when the Xenomorph bursts out of Oram’s chest so that it will imprint on him. In Prometheus, he quotes Lawrence when they first land and shares that it’s from a movie he likes. After teasing Holloway about his ‘thesis’ he shares glances with Shaw, obviously happy that she’s smiling at his comments. He’s visibly disappointed when he’s brushed off or insulted - his facial expression when Holloway first invites him on a drink but then, when David declines, tells him he’s not ‘a real boy’ speaks volumes. He seems very pleased when Weyland introduces him to the crew and speaks warmly of him as his son - until he announces that David has no soul and marks him as something other and something lesser again.

Whether it is his programming or nature or an actual need - David is much more communicative than Walter, which makes sense, because David is designed to imitate human reactions and for that he needs interaction while Walter is designed to be less human, because people were scared of the David-model so he’s made to be more withdrawn. And yet the team on the Covenant is much more accepting of Walter than that of the Prometheus is of David.

So anyway. I found this an interesting difference of mentality in the Covenant-crew and the Prometheus-crew.


A Surprise Three Years In The Making (Bill Skarsgård)

Based Upon: Living in America with your husband, Bill, in 1917. He goes off to war and when he’s gone, you discover that you’re pregnant. When he comes home, three years later, you bring your daughter to the train station to meet him for the first time. He has no idea that she exists since you did not tell him in your letters, wanting the first he knew of her to be when he saw her. He gets off the train and spots you, eyes travelling downwards until he sees the little girl by your side. His eyes widen and he kneels down in front of her, in complete awe that he has a beautiful daughter.  

The cobblestone platform was crowded with people, all of who were waiting for the train to roll into the station and return their loved ones to them. You could barely move through the platform with the number of people that had showed up, so she gripped her daughter’s hand tightly and stayed near the back of the pack, figuring that people would immediately wish to leave the station once their friends and family had shown.

Her daughter had turned two only a week ago, yet she already mirrored her father; pale eyes, slim and brunette. Having a piece of him at home with her while he was in Europe fighting was comforting, but the fact that she looked every bit like him, made it easy and painful at the same time.

“Mommy?” the little girl asked, craning her head up to look at her mother.

She gave her daughter a tense smile, but a smile nonetheless, and the girl was far too young to tell the difference anyways, “Yes?”

The child’s grip tightened on her mother’s hand. “What does Daddy look like?” she wondered, causing her mother to smile for real this time.

She bent down and took her daughter’s cheeks into her hands before pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Daddy looks exactly like you,” she replied, looking into those pale eyes.

Her daughter’s brows creased. “But… he’s a boy,” she noted, confusion written all over her delicate face.

Her mother laughed lightly, squeezing her hand softly. “No, no. What I meant was, you both have the same features. He has pale eyes and brown hair, just like you do,” she explained, “Daddy is also one of the tallest people you will ever meet. I wouldn’t be surprised if you take after him in that way as well.”

Her daughter simply nodded, absorbing the new information. “Is he nice?” she asked quietly.

The woman lifted her child’s head so she could meet her gentle gaze and nodded. “Daddy is the kindest person alive. He’s caring, funny and smart. I promise that you’ll like him, and I know that he will love you more than anything in the whole world, okay?” she urged her daughter, running her fingers through the small girl’s brown locks.

“Okay,” she responded, already sounding more sure of herself.

Her mother pressed another soft kiss to her daughter’s forehead then stood back up.

A whistle blew in the near distance.


She laid with her head in the crook of his neck, bare chest pressed to his, legs intertwined with his long ones, in their bed.

It was incredibly late. Soon, the absolute darkness would break, sending streaks of warm hues down on the American city. She did not want to see colour, only wanted to bask in the darkness for as long as possible, knowing that light would only mean that the time was upon them; Bill would be leaving to war.

His long fingers stroked her hair softly and his other arm held her closer to his naked body, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. He did not want to leave her in the next couple of hours.

At the age of twenty-seven and in perfect health, Bill was the ideal candidate for an American soldier. He was old enough to have gained some wisdom, yet not too old to be of little use in combat. He was conscripted right away when volunteers were no longer abundant, along with thousands of other men in and near his age pool. Sometimes, he wished he had stayed in Sweden, away from the future he now faced, but he never felt that wholeheartedly, as she was the greatest thing to have ever happened to him.

She was kind enough to show him around town when he first arrived from Sweden. He used to sit in the café she worked at almost everyday for lunch, it was there that she would serve him and ask why he always came to the same restaurant. He told her that he was new to town and enjoyed routines. Eventually, he gained enough courage to ask her out on a date, everything took off from there.

He pressed his lips against hers for what seemed like the millionth time that night; they made love for hours until she was sore and shaking from all of the orgasms he had given her. They had gone at it for hours, her on her back, straddling his lap and riding him until she was so overstimulated that tiredness seeped through her body, making her feel heavy and drained. From the second he came home from his last day of work in the factory, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Neither could even begin to imagine what it would truly be like when the other was not by their side.

He couldn’t care about reaching his own high, instead, wanted her to be so overwhelmed with pleasure. He made slow, passionate love to her before quickening his pace, thrusting in and out of her so fast that she could not keep her eyes open. He listened to her breathless moans and cries of his name from her perfect lips and knew then that there was nothing more satisfying. After many rounds, she became so exhausted that she fought to keep her eyes open, never wanting the night to end; sleep was the enemy.

She kissed him back softly, her arm stretching across his chest until she reached his hair and combed her fingers through the smooth locks.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered sadly, tears rolling down her cheeks and wetting his warm skin when she placed her head back into the crook of his neck.

He tightened his grip on her body, pulling her even closer to him, before kissing her forehead.

Her breathing quickened as another wave of tears washed over her, making her body shake in his grasp.

He stroked her hair repeatedly, attempting to soothe her, but his own breath caught as well. “I love you so much, Darling. So much,” he promised her, voice cracking with deep emotion as he held her trembling body.

She sniffled and he wiped her tears. “I love you too,” she echoed.

He stopped smoothing her hair as he flipped them over, her on her back and him on top of her, before beginning to kiss her lips fervently.

Her cries became muffled by his lips, warm and soft on hers.

“Please don’t cry, Darling. It hurts me to see you cry,” he confessed in between kisses.

Eventually, her tears ceased as she focused on her husband who slipped his tongue into her mouth and moved one of his hands down her body until he reached her breasts. He squeezed one of her nipples until he felt it become firm under his touch, then detached his lips from hers and shifted down her body. His soft lips wrapped around her hardened nipple, sucking on her whilst she writhed under him and moaned as he pulled.

“Bill,” she breathed heavily, shutting her eyes in ecstasy.

He did the same to her other breast, eliciting another moan from his lover, then slid back up her body and pressed his lips to hers hungrily.

She was so focussed on his lips, giving his hair a small yank from pleasure every now and then, that she didn’t notice his fingers slipping down her body. It was only when he shifted a finger inside of her that she clutched onto him, wide eyes looking up at his. He kissed her once again as he moved his finger in and out of her, adding another which caused her to squeak against his lips.

She broke the kiss and held his shoulders as he continued his work on her. “Please,” she begged, eyes wide and needy, “I want to come with you inside of me.”

Instantly, he pulled his long fingers out of her and licked them clean. She nearly moaned at the sight of him, sucking her off him like she was the most delicious dessert he had ever tasted.

“B-Bill,” she stuttered, so breathless and high off bliss, “I need you now.”

“Say it louder.”

Tears made her eyes go glassy as she pleaded with him. “Please, Bill!” she cried.

“Say it.”

“Bill Skarsgård, I need you now! Please,” she whimpered.

With his lips fit back to hers, he entered her in one fluid motion, causing both of them to gasp at the sensation. He took her hands in his and pushed them up the bed as he thrusted into her. She squeezed his hands as if her life depended on it.

It was the last time they would be together for an unaccountable number of months or years; neither of them could get enough of the other.

“Bill,” she breathed, “I’m gonna come.”

He pushed himself even deeper inside of her and faster, wanting her climax to be intense.

“Open your eyes. I want to see you,” he begged.

Her eyes lazily opened and met his, which were filled with desire.

“Come for me,” he told her.

His words sent her over the edge and she cried out, feeling an earth-shattering orgasm tear through her body. Her gasps and moans only turned him on more as he continued to sink into her, bringing himself to his own climax.

His seed seeped inside of her, filling her before he pulled out.

He pulled her into her arms, knowing she was so utterly exhausted, and whispered a few sweet praises in her ear as she finally drifted off into a sound sleep.

They would savour this night for years to come.


The large, brown train containing many carriages pulled to a halt when it reached the platform. Men still dressed in uniforms were hanging out of the windows, waving at the people that came to welcome them back home. She started to scan the faces in search of her husband’s but knew it was a tedious and most likely unsuccessful task.

“Is he in that?” she heard her daughter say.

Casting a look down at the small girl beside her, she nodded happily, tears welling in her eyes. “Yes. Daddy’s in that,” she confirmed, her voice full of emotion.

She tore her eyes away from her daughter when she heard the doors open.

Men of all ages came out of the cars, desperately searching for their family and friends. There were only cries of pure joy and happiness as people hurriedly yanked their brother, husband, son or friend into an embrace.

She held her breath as she patiently waited for her husband to step out of the train.

More cheers, more cries of delight. More men stepped off of the metal stairs of the train car. A few people were beginning to leave, holding hands and wearing smiles as they headed into the wooden station.

“How much longer?” the girl wondered, incredibly keen to see her father for the first time.

“Not much, Sweetie,” her mother promised, giving her a small smile.

When she looked back up, her breath caught.

There he was, tall and handsome as ever as he stepped onto the platform, pale eyes searching the crowd for her. She raised her hand and waved in an attempt to catch his attention, though it did not do much as everyone else seemed to have the same idea. So, she merely waited until his green eyes caught onto her.

They did.

His full lips parted and he stood still for a second, still in shock that after just under three years ago had been the last time he had seen her in person. The letters, although extremely comforting, did not have the same effect of seeing her beautiful face.

He hoisted his bag up his shoulder and strode into the crowd, heading towards his wife.

She took a deep breath, then exhaled. He had no idea that his daughter even existed and she hoped he wouldn’t be mad that she kept such an important piece of news from him.

The crowd begin to separate, leaving Bill a clear path to his lover.

His eyes widened when he saw a small girl clutching his wife’s hand.


She had just gotten home from the doctor’s after learning of her pregnancy. She had expected that result, knowing that constant vomiting and general dizziness were the typical signs of child bearing, but after going to the doctor with her mother, it all became real.

She rushed over to her desk and pulled a piece of parchment from the second drawer before sitting in the wooden chair. Picking up the ballpoint pen that she had recently filled with ink, she thought about what to write.

A ‘Hello, Bill. It hasn’t been long since I’ve written you last but… I’m pregnant,’ did not seem right.

Would it make him sad to hear of such grand news whilst he was a continent away and had no means to return for a long time? Would it take his mind off the task at hand and only make him worry? Maybe it would be good to hear such joyous news in a hard time? These were the questions she asked herself as she debated telling him of her pregnancy.

Either way, she was still writing him a letter, so she got to work on asking how he was and telling him what things were happening back home. She told him that she loved him with all her heart, but did not mention the baby.


He stopped in front of his wife and looked at her with eyes so wide she thought he would pass out. In response, she only gave him a small nod and let go of her child’s hand.

Looking to his daughter, back to his wife and then to his daughter, he slowly lowered himself to the cobblestone ground, right in front of the smiling girl. He was still in disbelief, taking another look back up at his wife for a moment, utter shock written over his face.

“Her name is Isabelle,” she began, voice quavering as she peered down at Bill, “Isabelle Gudrun Skarsgård.”

His heart warmed at the sound of his grandmother’s name.

“But I like to be called Bella!” she interjected happily, causing her father to look back at her, startled, after hearing her speak for the first time.

Her voice was sweet as honey; a beautiful, childish joy. It was so untouched and innocent that it had him shaken. His own daughter

“Hi, Bella,” he said softly, voice shaking as he looked into her eyes, thinking that he was looking into his very own, “I’m Bill. I’m your-”

“You’re my Daddy!” she exclaimed, throwing her skinny arms around his neck and pulling herself flush against his body.

He held onto the back of her head, eyes still so wide with awe as he held his own daughter in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered, tears forming in his eyes.

“I love you too, Daddy!” his daughter cheered, utterly oblivious to how impactful the who situation was on him.

He continued to hold his daughter, noticing how small and fragile she seemed, how beautiful she was. She was his.

“Are you going to live with Mommy and me?” she asked, pulling away and looking him with a smile.

“If that’s okay with you,” he replied, still frozen in his kneeling position as he still tried to convince himself that this was reality.

His daughter nodded happily, her cheeks becoming even chubbier as she smiled wider.

He gave her a smile before standing to properly greet his wife. She immediately opened her mouth to explain, but he took her into a bone-crushing hug. Her words stopped in her mouth as she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him back just as tightly.

“I… I hope you’re not mad,” she breathlessly whispered into his ear, “I just wanted the first you knew about her to be when you saw her.”

He kissed her lips fervently, shutting out her worries. “I love you,” he kissed her lips. “I love our beautiful daughter,” he promised, kissing her forehead.

Her eyes shut and her body instantly relaxed.

“She looks just like you, Bill. Seeing her everyday was just like seeing you,” she confessed, tears wetting her eyes.

He wiped a stray tear the ran down her cheek and smiled, “Our baby.”

She laughed. “Our very own baby,” she agreed.

They looked to each other’s eyes and grinned, so excited to be a mother and father. She had already mothered their baby for two years, but she was only one half to the whole.

“Mommy?” they were interrupted by their daughter.

“Yes?” she wondered, looking down at Isabelle.

The young girl took a hold of her father’s hand. “Can we go home now? I want to show Daddy my drawings,” she said excitedly.

Bill folded his large hand around her tiny one and laughed lightly. He was feeling so peaceful that he wasn’t even sure it was real. But it was, and the small brunette beside him proved that fact; he was a father.

“Of course, Sweetie,” her mother replied, “I’m sure Daddy can’t wait to see your pictures.”

Bill nodded, “You bet.”

They left the train station together with Isabelle, not only as husband and wife, but parents to a beautiful child.


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