#team lucy

[everybodylovedcontractors]

Which team(s) are you on? I made 2 Harry's, sorrynotsorry.

[shinraalpha]

it's 2.30am and i need to talk about Norrie. in 2016, already a huge Lockwood and Co fan, i moved from the North East to London to follow my dream, and left behind my pal Lucy. She was one of my best friends in the entire world. In 2018 she died from cancer and watching Lucy Carlyle recording messages to her ghost-locked best friend reminds me of sending my best friend voice notes she'll never hear and. idk yeah.

[4evertimeless]

Timeless PSA

Hi friends, so idk I have been seeing a lot of Lyatt vs Garcy nonsense lately and I have thoughts...

We all enjoy this tv show. We can all agree that it’s a great show that deserves a third season. And much like the rest of you I enjoy geeking out about this show and sharing my opinions on things that happen on this show. 

But the thing is that this is a SHOW (if you didn’t catch them hints), and being such it really aint that deep honey... Yes of course they touch on important topics, that’s part of what makes it good and keeps it relevant. But like any other form of art there has to be a separation of art and reality. And when it comes to ships we should really keep this in mind. 

Honestly shipping Lucy with any of the men on this show is horrible if you’re looking at it with your reality glasses on. Wyatt has hurt Lucy emotionally, Flynn has hurt Lucy physically, Ian Fleming was totally sleezy, etc... But considering that this is a fictional show about fictional people in fantastic situations involving time travel, resurrecting dead characters and secret evil organizations, it is important that we look at the ships within the context that they are happening in. 

So yes, Wyatt has hurt Lucy emotionally. But that probably has a ton to do with the fact that he had a sucky childhood, and his high school sweetheart whom he married, then lost, recently came back to life and he’s trying to navigate that and the fact that he still has feelings for Lucy. Does that make his actions during season 2 okay? I’d say no, but it does make them understandable when you consider the context of the show. 

And yes, Flynn has hurt Lucy physically. This however was at the top of season one, a time when he was severely grief ridden after the cold blooded murder of his wife and daughter, and was singlehandedly trying to take down Rittenhouse. Lucy was getting in the way of that and he was willing to do whatever it took to achieve his goal. Again, not okay by any means in real life, however in the context of the show we can understand some of these actions from his pov.

...I could go on, but long story short neither of these ships are “toxic” or “abusive”, or if one of them is then so is the other. So go forth and ship what you will, keeping in mind that this is fiction, fantasy, and art. And please do not tell the artists how to go about making their art. Because honestly if you can’t tell the difference between what’s fake and what’s real then that’s on you. 

I personally chose to ship Lucy with happiness, but how I perceive that may be different from how you perceive it. And that’s okay!

[shinraalpha]

not me watching Liam’s infamously heartbreaking Full Circle oneshot for the first time two days before the third anniversary of saying goodbye to my best friend in hospital shortly before she died no that would be inadvisable and silly

[shinraalpha]

Birthday

Today is one of my very best friend’s birthdays. She’s not here anymore and I miss her very much, so I wrote this based on a dream I had about her last night. 

               When I wake, the sun is painting the black night away with a rose-coloured ink. My pillow is damp, and my body aches. I listen to the beginning of the birdsong and think of you.

Despite a decade of friendship, my heart always hammers when I’m waiting for you. I worry about which one of us has changed – you, this new person with no space for me anymore? Or me, changed in a million and one tiny ways that I didn’t even notice happening, but seen en masse to you seem jarring? I suppose of course, it’s really only me that’s changing these days. Still, the anxiety fizzes as I watch the bubbles rise in the champagne flute.

               ‘Sorry I’m late.’ Your voice is exactly the same, and like rain it extinguishes the dread twisting in my stomach. I turn to see you, your face split into that gleaming grin that always makes me want to smile no matter where my head’s at. ‘Get it – because I’m late?’

               ‘Absolutely awful, well done,’ I stand to embrace you. It’s strange, wrapping my arms around a memory. Feeling the slight resistance of you, and the ache of the place you’re supposed to be. ‘How was the… journey?’

               ‘Weird,’ is all you’ll say, and your face settles into something sad. ‘I’m… well, it’s not the funnest topic of conversation. Let’s get the drinks in, shall we? Do you mind getting them? My pay is a little on the light side these days.’

               ‘Mate, it’s your birthday – you do not buy the bevs on your birthday, that’s the rule.’

               I press a small button set into the wall of our booth, and somewhere behind the island bar a bell rings, twinkling faintly. I run my gaze over the vaulted ceiling, stretching so high above us that the red brick fades away to black. The high windows outside show the city full of starlight from the ground up.

               ‘I’ve never seen St. Pancras so quiet,’ I say, and as I turn back to you I realise you’ve been watching me this whole time. The crow’s feet at the edges of your eyes fan out with a sad smile. No more lines than when I saw you last, though my own are being added to with each passing year.

               ‘Don’t look at me – it’s your creation. Though I must admit I appreciate the quiet,’ you sip on the champagne that I don’t remember anyone bringing us.

               ‘Is it not quiet… you know, where you’re at?’

               You look down, fingers playing on the delicate glass stem. ‘I can’t really talk about it… there are rules. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s that I just can’t. Plus, also, I think because you don’t know and we’re in your head… I can’t add any extra information.’

               ‘Yeah, it often seems like I can’t add any extra information either,’ there was a pause. I could feel the cold shadow of a wave of grief looming somewhere overhead and so I snatched up my drink and held it aloft. ‘Cheers, birthday girl.’

               There was the bright clink of glass coming together that rang out through the cavernous train station, and then, as though the toast had broken the thin ice, we were talking as though nothing had changed. And although you couldn’t tell me much about what had been going on with you, we still laughed ourselves into gasping fits over our shared memories. The soft roundness of your accent filling my heart.

               ‘Remember when you straight up and spilled a full glass of red wine down Claire’s dress at the Christmas party?’ I remind you.

               ‘Oh no! I was still only a temp – I absolutely expected to come in the next day to my P45. I have no idea if she ever got that stain out. Ah well, art appreciates after the artist… y’know. It’s probably worth a fortune now.’

               Before I had time to let the sadness flood in, you launched into more questions – what gigs had I been to lately? Was I still pretty much nil-by-dating? How was work going?

               ‘I think I’ve written eight books now? No wait, the ninth comes out in a couple of months! Honestly it’s still so insane to me that this is what I do for a living. I’m still so glad you got to see the first one.’

               And then you took my hands in yours. Your skin wasn’t cold, like I expected it to be – but warm, a comforting warmth spreading from your fingers to mine. Your eyes, suddenly serious, still twinkled.

               ‘I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. I want you to know that I will always be proud of you. Because everything you do, I do too. I’m with you, in your heart, every single day. I can see how hard you try. How often you want to give up. I’m right there with you.’

               The tears come, at long last. Spilling hot down my cheeks, I grip your hands back as tight as I can. Sorrow blossomed in my chest, spreading tendrils wrapping around my ribs and pulling on them. The pain is so intense that to let my heart shatter then would be a relief. Holding it together is too hard.

               ‘I miss you,’ I sob. ‘I miss you so much. I’m sorry I left you. I wish we could’ve had more time together… I hope you know you were always my best friend.’

               ‘We have the rest of your life together, my dearest friend. I’m interwoven in the fabric of every day you live through and every place you go. I never once questioned the love you had for me. And watching your life spread away from where we started? It was bittersweet, but I was only ever so happy for you.’

               We drink more, sometimes accompanied by the sound of tears, and other times our laughter filling the cavernous space around us like a duet dedicated to joy in an empty concert hall. Time slips by us in the complex whirling patterns it always does here, but eventually you tell me it’s time to go.

               ‘It’s getting light. You’ll be awake soon, and I want to say a proper goodbye,’ you say. Outside, the pinprick lights of the empty city stretch on unchanging through a perpetual night.

               ‘See you soon?’ I ask, voice shaking. I don’t want this to ever end, but I know it always has to. Nothing can last forever but the memories of it.

               ‘Your birthday next – I’ll try and bring some money for it. Though if it’s your dream, I’d have thought we’d be in a post-capitalist utopia by now.’

               ‘I’m working on it.’

               ‘I can feel you surfacing. Give me a hug while you can.’

               We embrace again, and you feel even less substantial that before – made of light and a soft scent I can’t quite catch. An angel of longing and memory.

               ‘I miss you,’ I whisper again, my face buried into your shoulder.

               ‘My brilliant friend. I’m not gone. Always know that. I loved you completely and that is left in your life even without me.’

[shinraalpha]

Today it’s been one whole year since I sat in that hospital room, holding your hand. We talked about books we’d be reading, and laughed about the terrible Christmas films that had started showing up on Netflix. We talked for hours. We always could. It was effortless.

Then it came. You were getting tired, I could see it. And you knew I had a train to catch. There was a moment; a pause. Half a minute filled with almost ten years of friendship. Thirty seconds or so in which everything unsaid hung between us. All the things we’d never get to do together. All the life you would be denied. You squeezed my hand to let me know it was okay. But how is it? How do you say it? What words do you choose for the last goodbye?

I kissed you on the cheek, and I said the words from that Beautiful South song we both loved, and I left. Walking out of that room was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I wish I could’ve stayed until the end. I will never stop being heartbroken. You were one of my best friends. I’d never felt so seen and understood. Stars, I miss you so much. Please come back. I can’t stand there being people in the world who never got to see the brilliantness of Lucy. There’s a hole in the universe and it’s you shaped.

[shinraalpha]

today would’ve been Lucy’s birthday. It *is* still her birthday, she just doesn’t get to be any older.

for weeks all I’ve been able to think about is... when she turned 18, she’d already lived over half her life. She had so little time, and so much life left to experience. It’s unfair. I hate it and it’s not fair.

I miss you, pal. Happy birthday.

[shinraalpha]

it has been two years today since I visited my beautiful, wonderful friend Lucy in hospital, one of my very closest friends. Two years since I had to leave that room and know I would never see her again. Walking away from her, leaving her, knowing that, remains the hardest thing I've ever done.

Miss you, pal 💜