Location: Chlollieville
marikology , honey you may want to look away now because I'm going to launch into a Chlollie squeefest that may make you want to bop me on the nose.
SO I'M STUPIDLY, RIDICULOUSLY OBSESSED WITH THEM.
I've liked them, then hated them, then tolerated them, then liked them again, then liked them a lot and then last night, I fell in love. It may have to do with this AWESOME TUMBLR ACCOUNT and even though I have no idea what tumblr is really about, I really, really approve of it if it keeps feeding my Chlollie kink.
Chlollie is not about destiny and rainbows and everlasting love and dreams and visions and hopes for the future and paths already fated and anvils or hints and nods to the mythos. It just is what it is without a story to back them up or fill in the blanks or to pave the p(l)otholes or to make it better when the show lets you down.
And what is it? Well it's knowing her well enough to know that when she's not talking with metaphors peppering her sentences, she's feeling low. And it's clearing up the past and letting the future take care of itself. It's Eskimo kisses and hand holding and hugging and sneaky glances and backing her up and taking things at your own pace and the world be damned.
It's not talking to death what doesn't need to be said or getting caught up in what may never be. It's not one epic moment or cute play on words or built up to be an epic romance. And yet it is. It just is. It's the little moments and not expecting to be hit over the feelings you never wanted or expected but dealing with them anyway.
Of course I expect Smallville to fuck this up next season but that's another story.
