#THESE BITTERSWEET NOTIONS OF FOREVER ... PRIDE

[aleburton]

Kylie’s compliment reached her ears and Alex’s eyebrow arched in response. The mention of their uniforms triggered a cascade of memories, dredging up the bittersweet recollection of her time at Luxe. Under Mo’s questionable management, the girls were clad in garments that left little to the imagination —tight, short, and scandalously skimpy, carefully skirting the line between chic lounge attire and the semblance of a strip club. She recalled the leering gazes of the affluent male patrons, their hands reaching out in brazen attempts to cop a feel any chance they could. Zach Winthrop had been just one of many patrons she had been forced to put in their place, retaliating with a deftly spilled overpriced drink aimed squarely at their arrogance. Mo’s admonitions about her attitude echoed inside of her mind, a constant reminder to toe the line of respectability, to cater to the whims of Luxe’s clientele. Yet, for Alex, compliance was a challenge she struggled to embrace, her rebellious spirit refusing to be tamed by Mo’s directives.

Unlike the other girls who relied on the job for financial stability, Alex had never been bound by the need for money or employment. Luxe was nothing more than a diversion, a playground for socializing and indulging in the carefree frivolity of youth. She felt no obligation to conform to the expectations thrust upon her by Mo or anyone else at Luxe. She saw herself as their equal and didn’t owe them anything. There was, however, one exception to this. Mo had been adamant that she serve Zach’s table that night, a decision that would alter the course of her life forever. The mere thought of Andrew replacing Zach in her life’s story felt inconceivable. It was no secret that Andrew had enjoyed his fair share of Hollywood’s starlets before recently deciding to embrace a more settled existence. He lived of a life of relative ease, basking in the glow of his father’s success and wealth. With little responsibility to weigh him down, he had reveled in the freedoms afforded by his family’s stature.

Undoubtedly, Alex would have regarded Andrew with the same disdain she held for Zach — arrogant, irritating, and entitled. It was difficult to imagine that the former version of Andrew could have ever captured her interest. She entertained the possibility that he possessed hidden depths, perhaps a few seductive maneuvers up his sleeve that she hadn’t yet witnessed. She wondered how it might have altered the course of her relationship with Zach. Would they have never crossed paths at all, or would fate have eventually brought them together at a different time in their lives, when both had matured and grown? While she was certain that she wouldn’t find herself working at Luxe in this hypothetical scenario, she allowed herself to indulge in the idea of a chance encounter, some sort of serendipitous meeting that would ultimately lead to their happily ever after. She smiled wistfully at the thought of what could have been. A different beginning, but with the same promise of love and possibility.

As Ryan clumsily made another remark, Alex detected the subtle undertone directed at Zach, teasing him about his apparent desperation for her attention. Her laughter bubbled forth, a natural response to Ryan’s offbeat humor. He seemed to catch himself, realizing he was dangerously close to revealing more than intended, potentially jeopardizing their carefully laid plans. Andrew nodded his head, seemingly filled with pride to learn that she had been desirable even back then. Alex had never seen him jealous before. Despite the occasional advances or unsavory remarks from other men, Andrew had always remained steadfastly composed. But then again, Alex had never entertained the notion of anyone else but him. What reason was there for him to feel insecure or threatened? Until Zach entered the picture. Alex was still unsure if the comments Andrew made about him were in jest or if there were kernels of truth hidden within. If he harbored any sense of being challenged by Zach’s presence, he kept it well concealed.

Surprise flickered across Alex’s features as Andrew granted permission for them to whisk her away, her gaze darting between him and Zach. She was curious about Zach’s motives, but refrained from voicing her questions, choosing instead to accept the fleeting moment of normalcy it promised. For a brief moment, she could immerse herself in the illusion that this was her life, her friends, her world once more. Her eyes sought out Andrew’s, searching for any hint of reluctance or reservation in his expression. “Are you sure?” she asked, a note of uncertainty lacing her words. Andrew only laughed in response, giving her a playful pat on her backside to urge her to seize the moment and indulge in some much-needed fun with people her own age. “Yes, go on! You don’t want to sit here and be bored to death with anymore old men, do you? Go before I change my mind,” he teased. Zach’s enthusiasm was clear, already leading the way as they ventured away from the bar in search of Eden.

Alex trailed behind Ryan, weaving through the crowded space. It seemed as though the room had shrunk in size, or perhaps the guest list had ballooned since their arrival, the atmosphere thick with the heady mix of revelry and excess. They skirted around couples lost in their own world, dancing seductively or taking it a step further by rather aggressively locking lips for all to see. As Alex scanned the throng of partygoers, her gaze lingered on Kylie, who seemed to be straying from the group, disappearing into the swirling mass of bodies. She realized that Zach made no move to follow Kylie, nor did he inquire about her whereabouts. Puzzled by his lack of concern, Alex turned her attention forward once more, only to be jolted by the sound of a familiar screech cutting through the din of the crowd. Before she could react, a petite blonde with ample cleavage came charging toward her, her presence commanding attention amidst the chaos of the celebration.

A winsome smile graced Alex’s lips as she was reunited with her best friend. However, Eden’s expression quickly shifted, her brows furrowing in confusion as she noticed Zach peeking from behind Alex. Before Alex could offer an explanation, Eden interjected with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. Alex attempted to offer an explanation, but her words faltered as she struggled to articulate the complexity of their situation. “You can’t be too surprised, E,” she began tentatively, her head bobbing as she searched for the right words. “We’re kind of stuck together now. I think we're trying to... make the best of it?” Eden’s arms opened defensively as she absorbed Alex’s words, her eyes widening. “The best of it?” she echoed incredulously. “This is a mess, you two. You’re going to kill me! So, what? Are we supposed to pretend we’re one big happy family now? Me, Ryan, you, Zach, Drew, and Kylie?” Her dissatisfaction with the explanation was evident as she rolled her eyes.

Though Zach had kept certain facets of his former life in place, most of it had been dismantled under his heavy hand. All that really remained was Ryan, Eden and Amanda; the rest was burnt ash beneath their feet. Watching Ryan and Alex interact with such fondness aggressively swept him back to a time that seemed eons away now. How many nights the four of them had spent in close quarters, tying invisible bonds between each of their spirited hearts, laughing until they wept and their cheeks ached. It was evident now those bonds had not been severed, but merely slackened with time and distance. Zach chewed the corner of his lip impulsively, attempting to keep himself grounded in the present. Nostalgia was a tricky thing; an expert in averting the eye from the ugly with something shinier, prettier. He remembered suddenly, as Alex shifted her attention to Kylie’s muddled expression, that he was supposed to be learning of this too. He fashioned his face into something of surprise, but it was weak-willed. Already his propensity for acting had begun to wane. He was too distracted by the past, and too enticed by the possibilities of the future. Andrew’s arm on her waist didn’t help hone his focus much, either. 

Kylie considered Alex’s joke for a moment, and eventually, sort-of smiled. “Maybe. I bet you looked unbelievable in that uniform, though.” Zach wished he had a drink to guise his unreliable expressions; at this, his mouth twisted, recalling exactly how damning her appearance had been for him back then. How he’d toyed with almost every bottle girl on Luxe’s roster and had never been so moved to determination as he had been when he saw her. Drew went on to mention his own misgivings at the Luxe Lounge, though Zach struggled to place him there in his mind. Though his role of measured, clean-cut CEO and loyal fiancé was relatively new; perhaps somewhere in his not-so-distant past, a man more akin to Zach’s kind had been left behind. Zach’s head tilted, curious, and a little territorial. Maybe if Drew had gotten to Alex and lost her first, it would be Zach’s ring on her finger today. Maybe they were in fact written in the stars, only they’d gotten the sequencing all wrong. Alex caught his eye and his resentment melted away, burning through him as it went, a glimmer of old mischief in her eye sending his insides into a frenzy. His stomach clenched and with a smirk he looked away.

“She’s not kidding. Ale had guys all twisted up and desperate back then.” His elbow twitched as though to nudge Zach in the ribs, but instead he caught it, hovering in midair before it dropped back to his side. He snorted with a burst of ill-contained laughter. “Sorry, fuck,” he waved, barely staving off his continued snickering. “I just - those were good times.” Zach’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he refrained from laughing, his teeth sinking harshly into the muscle. With Ryan drunk and still reeling from the shock, it was only a matter of time before something slipped out. Zach had to think on his feet. “Eden’s around here somewhere. You wanna go see her?” he directed at Alex, his face relaxed but his eyes glinting suggestively. Kylie clapped once, apparently sold on this idea. “Yay! Reunion,” and she turned away sharply, clearly anticipating they would be hot on her platform heel. “You don’t mind, do you?” Zach asked Drew cordially. “We’ll bring her back before curfew.” And Drew, ever-trusting of his dear Alexandra and unwaveringly mature, waved them away with a cordial gesture. “I keep telling her to go have fun, but she’s bad at following orders,” he joked. A bell sounded within Zach; loud and resonant. No, she’s not, he thought, you just have to touch her right. His darkened, indecorous gaze seared into Alex for the briefest of seconds before he turned back, smiling politely. “Great,” he answered, holding out an arm so as to usher Ryan and Alex away.

But by the time they had pushed through the warming crowd of packed-in bodies, Kylie was amiss. Likely she had been stolen away by some admirer, or an old head who wanted in with the new blood. Zach might’ve been driven to innate jealousy if his focus was not solely on Alex, who he had led to walk just ahead of him, the sway of her hips working him over like a hypnotist's prop piece. He blew out a hard breath to pull himself from his trance and dragged his gaze away. Ryan took them directly to the frothing blonde, who as good as screamed when she saw Alex. Then, as she rapidly approached her friend with arms outstretched, stopped dead in her tracks and screamed again when her eyes landed on Zach following close behind. “What?” she shrieked, her eyes bulging. She pointed at him, then at Alex. “What the fuck are you talking about!”

[undersunrise]

[peakyxtommy]

Better Days - Thomas Shelby x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dark/Hurt/Comfort/Sad Fic/Slight Fluff 

WC: 3.1K 

Summary: Reader is having a bad time & Tommy comforts her 

Gif Credit: @bonniebirddoesgifs

It was another morning of waking up with the weight of the world on your chest. The heavy feeling of dread, as if you were walking around with a cement block in the middle of your heart. A day where rolling around to the other side of the bed and pulling the covers over your head seemed better than leaving to the outside world. Staying under the covers had the illusion to block out the light, to block out the pain you felt deep within you. A sadness that seemed to linger, never leaving your side. A continuous cycle, that seemed to never end. Always ready to swallow you whole, but never knowing when it would come. A monster in the closet, always lurking, searching for ways to collide right into you at the worst times possible.

When your feet collide on the cold wooden floor to carry yourself to the bathroom, to start with the routine of your morning, you already knew what kind of day it was going to be. Of mentally checking off the list of tasks to get you from one step to another. You try not to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, afraid to look into your eyes. Eyes that held so much pain and sorrow, eyes that have seen enough heartache. Eyes that have seen joy and happiness, wondering how you could feel the bittersweetness of both sides. 

Once dressed and partially fed for the day you continue on through the notions of the day. Repeating the words back to yourself, to feel a sense of quiet, that you were actually going to make it through the day. The long hours of repetitive activity and small conversation with those that you encounter through the day. Masking who you are, pretending that things are okay as they seem. Feeling more energy suck out of you as the hours float on by. Your mind becomes bogged down like a boat in a storm on a foggy night in need of a lighthouse to guide it back safe to shore. 

Minding counting down the hours until you could return home and hide. Hide from the world, your problems, and from the one you loved deeply. Shamed and guilt ridden to share the thoughts that held your mind captive on a loop, like a personal tape, running endlessly inside you. The tape that recounted every wrong, every lie, every misstep you have taken. 

As soon as you stepped through the door and had your final conversation of the day thus far with Mary, it felt like a small win. You go and find comfort in the darkness and the burrow of blankets on your bed, surrounded by the warmth and love you so desperately craved, wanted to feel. Hoping the pieces would form back together again. 

-

“Mary, have you seen (Y/N)?” Tommy asks as he comes through the door, placing his coat on the rack. You were usually out in the open when he came in early reading on the couch or in your craft room. 

“She’s upstairs, lying down Sir.” The woman speaks with a soft tone. 

“Is she feeling ill?” He questions with raised brows as it was still early in the evening.

“I think so Sir, she hasn’t eaten much these past few days. I went up a while ago to check on her but she’s sleeping, she’s been out for a while.” 

“Thank you Mary, I’ll handle it from here.” He speaks ushering the maid off and heading toward the stairs. He was cursing himself internally for not noticing your emotional state sooner. That’s how he found you, when he creaks open the door. Your frame huddled under the covers, facing toward his side of the bed, with the small lamp by the bedside on. 

 He reaches the side of your bed, he sees the remnant of wet tears on your face. He takes a seat on the bed, hand reaching out to gently rub your arm to awake you from your slumber. 

“Love, I’m home. Time to get up.” He whispers as you awaken to his voice and comforting touch.

“‘Hi Tommy.” You whisper back with a small smile. A smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“How was your day?” He says in a low tone, noticing the way your eyes close for a moment and the pout that appears on your face.

“Not good.” Is the only response that leaves your still pouting lips. It hurts and silently frustrates him that you two are the same in this regard but you are still the better of the two when it comes to others. Internally when you are struggling you're just as bad as him but in the opposite of taking it out on yourself and your body instead of the booze and smokes. He had gotten better than the first few months of your relationship of knowing when you were getting sad and things weren’t going good. 

“Do you want to talk about what’s really bothering you?” He asks in a gentle manner not wanting to badger you but would if you didn’t speak the truth before you went to bed. He knew you always needed space when you were upset and then would let him in. The blue eyes that look so soft in this moment stare into yours with concern and worry. It hurt knowing you were hurting him in this way by remaining silent. You didn’t know why you’d do this still to this day and even as long as you two have been together. You were independent, strong, and prideful at times, but were the most scared when you had to open up your dark thoughts to the soul that loved you like hand craft jewels themselves. 

“Maybe later. Need to shower.” You finally sit up and take his hand in yours just craving his touch and he reciprocates the action.  

“Have a proper meal, heard you haven’t had much of an appetite these past few days.” His hands squeeze yours, thumbs rubbing circles on your hands. 

“Yes, we’ll have a proper meal Mr. Shelby. Whatever it is you want we will have it.” You respond, resting your head against his chest for a moment. 

“You go shower and I’ll see what I can get started in the kitchen.” His warm lips press into your forehead. 

“Alright, I’ll meet you down there in a bit.” You give him a small smile and press your lips against his cheek, legs swinging over the edge to stand and stretch, him copying your motions. As you walk past him, he grabs your hand to get your attention, causing you to turn to look up at him. 

“(Y/N), I love you. Whatever it is, we can handle it together.” You nod your head at his words ready to cry about them as you go run your shower. You watch as he leaves the room, the door closing shut behind him. The flick of a switch and twist of a knob, you find yourself undressing and climbing into the porcelain tub. Those were the days you sat in the hot shower, letting the droplets burn the skin. Wondering about why life has you so down, so paralyze by fear, you could barely breathe. You were drowning under the water and no one was there to pull you out. 

That is where and when you were the most vulnerable. Alone. The most earth shattering sound releases through your lungs and tightens them back up as it moves through your body. You wonder how one person could have a multitude of tears stored in them that was infinite. It would only last for so long before you felt you could continue on with the task at hand that would bring you closer to the relief you were waiting for.

 -

It was a rare sight to see and was one that you enjoyed when it did happen. It warmed your heart and brought a genuine smile to your face, despite the heaviness in your heart. You leaned against the frame, watching him in an element he was secretly good at but didn’t have the time to do. 

Let alone did he ever sit still to finish an actual meal half the time but he would try his hardest for you because meals were sometimes the only part of the day you two would spend together. He was busy and worked at all hours of the day but you had a regular day job. He would try to come home early in the evenings to eat with you even if it meant he had to go back out or continue work in his office, or spend it with you. Sometimes you worked long hours or would have to bring work home that needed completion after hours. 

He was wearing his round spectacles, which you enjoyed as it made him look more attractive than he already was. He was annoyed and embarrassed about them at first, but you’d always find a way to remind him how much you loved them. His sleeves were rolled halfway up revealing his strong forearms and ringed fingers that were slicing lettuce on a wooden cutting board. White dish cloth hanging from his shoulder. 

“Looks like you’ve been busy here, Chef Shelby.” You teased making your presence known as he glances up at you with a playful stare. 

“Only the best for you. How long have you been standing there?”

“Not too long, I had to take the chance to admire what’s mine.”

“Only yours forever.” He passes you a slice of cucumber as you take a seat at the island. 

“What are you cooking tonight?”

“Sausage, mash potatoes, and salad.”

“That sounds great. Thank you Tom.” You both grin at the other as you watch him play chef in the kitchen. It was satisfying as you haven’t had a moment to feel this good in the past couple of weeks. You sat talking about his day and him telling you a funny story of the younger Shelby clan over dinner. 

You still had lots of stories to discover about the man in front of you as did him. It was ever evolving when one would share a new story, that would come to the conscious so vividly like a dream of the incident happening again. It wasn’t often Tommy told stories of his past but when he did was usual in moments like these or when you two were up late at night together talking like two young lovers in love. 

 It was moments like these where it felt easier to breath, even if it was only temporary.  

A moment of bliss so delightful, it was beginning to stitch the pieces back together.

-

Distractions could only last for so long even good ones. You found yourself back in the reality of your sadness as the silence lapsed between the two of you. It wasn’t awkward but you knew you still had to talk to the one person that cared for you better than did sometimes and vice versa. 

You both were resting with your backs against the headboard of the bed, settling down for the remainder of the evening. Your upper body was half laying on his broad chest and head was resting against right in the crook of his neck. Your fingers were tracing circles on his bare torso mindlessly, mind away in the abyss. 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hmm?” His hot breath whispers in your ear, lips pressing to your temple.

“Too much. It’s like my brain is a broken record and there’s no silence. I can’t shut off the thoughts and it’s clouding my thinking. Everything feels heavy and meaningless. Everything is the same day in and out. Life is passing by and I'm stuck in the middle watching it flash across my eyes.

The fear sets in like a weight in my stomach. It tenses my body and makes it hard to breath, to focus. It sets in first thing as I wake and lasts until it's time to go to bed. I can’t catch a break from it. It’s been hard trying to go to sleep, I feel fatigued all the time. 

The weight of existence is swallowing me back down to the depths of Hell. When I close my eyes at night all I can see is this darkness. I’m in our house and running away from this shadow that keeps chasing me. It always finds me no matter where I run or hide. When I call out or try to find you, you never come. It always ends that same, with the shadow coming to swallow me but I wake before it ever can.” 

The hot tears come back, falling against his chest as he listens to your inner monologue. The deepest part of who you were, on display for him to nurture with endearment. Your thoughts never scared him because of the life he lived through. Every time he held your fragile and aching body with heart wrenching sobs into his body in moments like this, frightened him. Distressed him to know that you were hurting this deeply. That you were carrying this alone and he hadn’t noticed. 

You were the sweetest of souls and free spirited. You were smart and a hard worker. When he first met you, he knew that you would be sticking around for a while. Once he fell in love with you, it was over for him. You were everything he wanted and more. He did his best to please you and give you everything you wanted. You were the most beautiful woman he laid eyes on. He wanted to have children with you in the future. He wanted old and gray with you. 

“Love, it’s okay I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here. I’m always going to find you. I’m always going to protect you and will never let anything happen to you. I’ll always save you.” 

He holds you close as you continue to cry. 

“Love, calm down. Let’s breathe or you’re going to make yourself sick.” He lifts your head, his heart aching more at the sight or your dreary face. 

Once he manages to get you to breathe at a normal pace. He gets to make his way to the bathroom. Returns after a minute with a warm rag to wet your face and a cup of water to drink. As you sip the water he wipes your face with the warm cloth. The water quenches your throat and the warmth from the cloth soothes your body while your husband soothes your mind with his affectionate actions. 

For that you were grateful. Grateful for a man like Thomas Shelby despite his flaws, that he too even loved you despite yours. He was charming and funny in private when it was just the two of you. He always knew how to get your attention in the softest way and would do anything to see you smile. You held the moon, the stars, and the whole universe in your being for him.

 Grateful that a man like Thomas Shelby understood sadness, grief, and the horror of what it felt like to not be able to escape from your dark thoughts. The thoughts that get stuck like leaves in the gutter, waiting to be cleaned out, or it can’t make way for the next rainfall. 

He would know how to stitch you back together. It was in those moments of unraveling the strings that held you so tight together, would untangle and pull you closer to him. 

 “What do you want me to do to help you? I’ll do anything you want. Take time off work, you can quit your job and get a new one. We can go spend time away from town and go on a trip. I want you to know that I want you to be happy and I'll do anything in my power to help you get there. 

Don’t listen to the negative voices in your head, love, does you no good. Think of all the amazing things you are. You are an excellent wife and help the company greatly. You are confident at your job and work twice as hard as me. You’re a heartfelt daughter and aunt. Watching with the nephews and nieces makes me know you’re going to be a wonderful mother. 

You’re the love of my life. I love you so much, wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you weren’t here. I want old and gray with you, but we need to have some kids first.” His big warm palms hold your face, caressing your cheeks with his fingers. 

“Thank you Tommy. I love you so much.” Your lips press against his chaste and slow moving in sync as your noses would bump slightly with minor movements. 

“There will be better days ahead love, I promise. When you close your eyes dream of me. I’ll come save you. I’ll be here when you wake up, I'm all yours until further notice.” His lips pressed against yours for the final time that night, as the lights were off. He was on his side holding you to his chest, as your body mirrored his as you laid your head on his chest, his arms holding your back.   

You knew in that moment, you didn’t need to say anything. He knew you and your heart for all that it was worth. He would come and help you water your plants as many times as you needed help. He would help you build your garden back until you were blooming yet again. 

He was your lifeline, that came to save you time and time again. You would do the same for him. Your love for another ran deep, deeper than both you admitted aloud sometimes. Both being able to tell through little actions and thoughts that would occur daily, he was your livewire. 

As your eyes closed you dreamed about something good for a first time in a long time. It was as vivid as a fresh painting on a warm spring day. It was a flash forward of your life. Of being with Tommy, having children, and being old and gray together. 

You slept in peace of knowing there were going to be better days ahead. 

-

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[readermagnifique]

Anne with an E Season 3 finale!

Spoilers.

Good grief I am in LOVE!!!

I want to have a character on this show for the sole purpose of having a bisexual affair with Winnie Rose, no I am not taking constructive criticism at this time.

Josie Pye counting the hours until she can get away from all the whispers and snide comments that she is definitely still getting, and probably mostly from her parents broke my heart she deserves to fly they all do.

Ruby is still a little gem and I love her.

Shirbert Part I: They are so proud of each other, look at those cute grins.

Moody still holds the title of best awkward comments.

"Congratulations"

"Congratulations"

You poor dumb dumb babies I love you both.

Miss Stacy is the best you can't change my mind. Potato lightbulbs forever indeed.

"7 days until we spread out wings and soar" Tiny babies, we stan.

"It's your future, not theirs"

"It's not your future, it's ours!"

This next scene was heartbreaking.

The Barry's were getting better and I hate them again now.

Matthew Cuthbert you are a cute potato and your one (1) flaw in life is pushing people away to protect them. We stan.

Mummy Lacroix learning to be softer is what I am here for!

Shirbert Part II: Beautiful! Sublime! This letter was everything we've been wanting to hear since day 1. Also definitely breaking his promise to Winnie to not say ANYTHING about not being engaged for 2 weeks, but we'll let it slide because you're cute as a button, and the pen mention at the end was the cherry on top.

I honestly expected her to completely miss the fact that the letter was even there. Never expected her to rip it, and was even better when she ran around trying to find the pieces, and GOT IT COMPLETELY WRONG! You are the most adorable tiny human, and this had me shaking my head not knowing whether to be frustrated or laughing.

Diana being almost catatonic at the idea of her future broke me. It is not being talked about enough, this was heartbreaking.

"I can't fly"

"My poor Diana, they've clipped your wings" This was beautifully tragical, and so so sad. Dalila Bela was phenomenal in this whole episode - more on that later.

Marilla being the best Mum. She has grown so much and she is the sweetest. This whole episode she was a damn star! I love her! She's done a complete 180° from where she started, from big things like being kinder and more open with those she loves, to small things like making a dress with beautiful, most definitely expensive, blue velvet for her girl.

Elijah redemption arc - I love a redemption arc, and they are the hill I will die on thanking you. And Bash learning to forgive him and allow him into his daughter's life - this was inspired, thank you Moira!!!

Marilla talking the Barrys round to the idea of Diana's desire to control her own life not being a selfish one was beautifully done. Just her being careful and considerate as she has always been at her core.

Miss Stacy and Anne both giving beautiful presents to each other - and MISS STACY WRITING KINDRED SPIRITS ON THE FRAME WAS SPECTACULAR!!! And her conversation about happiness was so sweet and caring, and mentioning depression in her own way did anyone else notice this?

Marilla being so excited about letters of Anne's past, and putting Matthew straight, just like he did earlier in the series.

Matthew crying; I can't cope with it. End of discussion, couldn't deal. He's too sweet.

Elijah is going to be such a good big brother now he's doing his best.

Anne packing away her room; so beautifully filmed, and so bittersweet. She has loved this little room more than anywhere else, and it's lovely.

Jane and Josie are friends again? They're stood together in the line, and no snide comments. They smile to each other while the matron was talking. Was there a deleted scene or something? Can someone write their reconciliation as a one shot? I want to see Jane learn like Prissy exactly what her family is.

Anne is definitely going to learn sign language, I will place good money on those odds. Just you watch her.

Somehow the matron reminds me of the librarian in Monsters University?

Anne putting her necklace on the bed meant for Diana.

The girls being excited and giggling in pure delight with each other, dancing and carefree, away from the small minds of their town. Beautiful and inspirational, and most of it is down to Anne, you cannot change my mind.

Miss Stacy screaming in excitement for Gilbert going to Uni! His yelling with her!

Mummy Lacroix learning from her son to help him forgive his own stepson. Redemption arcs all around in the Lacroix farm.

Siblings united at last. Mary would have been the happiest woman to see this.

AUNT JO! MY ULTIMATE FAVOURITE!!! LIFE GOALS!!! I LOVE HER!

Can we all just appreciate that Cole has been at art school carefully studying and perfecting the Gay Artist Walk™ and he is doing so well? The hips. The hands. Look at that beautiful carefully learnt carelessly elegant flounce! That is Growth.

Jo calling Marilla Anne's mother and how happy it makes her.

ANNE'S PRINCESS MOMENT! THAT DRESS! I CAN'T EVEN! ABSOLUTE PERFECTION!!!

Anne is the bravest of women, so strong, and all of those closest to her know this.

Cole and Jerry are the best brothers, you cannot prove this wrong.

Anne takes that moment to break apart on one that she trusts with her life, and one who she knows trusts her with his, and then just as quickly pulls herself back together again and carries on. She just needed that moment, and he knew to give it to her.

The cows are Pride and Prejudice and this is fantastic.

Matthew you adorable bean, and I cannot cope with you tearing up twice in one episode.

Anne with her dress, and gloves, and parasol. Mesmerising.

Mrs Thomas is hilarious.

"They were SCOTTISH!"

"He's DEAD! You know that." Cracking up laughing.

I want to know who Katie was? This is the second time she's been brought up. The imaginary friend who lives in glass cabinets. Other than that we know nothing, and I need to know more.

The book.

I want to have a character on this show for the sole purpose of having a bisexual affair with Winnie Rose, no I am not taking constructive criticism at this time.

I fully and completely believe that after they sorted out the fact that neither of them had any idea what the other was bloody talking about, Anne and Winnie are pen pals, and they're going to chat about Paris and Uni and become good mates. I am here for Anne's respect for other women, and you know for a fact that she has never said or thought a bad word about Winnie from day one, because none of it has ever been her fault. And Winnie has been understandably angry, but once she stops hurting over Gilbert (and has a bisexual affair with me that is definitely going to happen I swear) she will be happy to call Anne a friend, because she has always been loyal to her friends and never made a move on her man while he was hers, even when drunk and looking gorgeous after the exams.

The train. How amazing was every scene on this damn train. Diana going to Uni, hearing about Gilbert not going to Paris and not engaged, but also not going to queen's and definitely not sorting things her friend and this is unacceptable??? Her face??? Incredible!!!

Anne running in that dress is a vision.

Diana's face as she sits in the chair opposite Gilbert. And he smiles politely and has to do a double take because the FuRy??? Of this girl??? Phenomenal.

I am always here for whenever Anne has her hair down.

Diana going HARD for Anne. On a public train. Fully laying in to the smartest and dumbest boy in her class.

Diana is a wonder, all she needed was friendship with an unlikely redheaded orphan brat to unlock her imagination, and that redheaded orphan is the girl who has saved her from misery and drudgery and brought colour into her life, and she deserves so much better than the confusion Gilbert has been giving her this whole time and Diana is throwing EVERYTHING at him and I am here for this ride or die friendship!!!

"DIANA WHAT LETTER???" THE URGENCY THIS POOR BOY!!!

This running montage was perfection, then the silence just as they saw each other. Majestic.

That gentle hand on her cheek, asking permission, then the kiss.

And then Anne Shirley Cuthbert does the most Anne Shirley Cuthbert thing and pinches herself to check it's real.

And Gilbert So-Smart-And-So-Dumb Blythe still had to check that she loves him as much as he loves her and both of these reactions are the most valid thing I have ever witnessed.

And that second kiss; Anne "If I wanted to kiss a boy, couldn't I just, kiss him?" Shirley Cuthbert going for it, I am here for it on every level, I hope it's within the correct timespan for visiting suitors, because you're definitely not in the parlour Anne!

Anne not even getting mad that he's leaving just after he kisses her, she is so understanding what a damn angel.

And Gilbert desperately trying to reassure her before he has to run off again. That hand kiss, I am swooning over their romantical notions, the pair of them!

"DiANA???"

"Can I still be your roommate?" Look at this baby, with her witty quips and dramatic entrances! I adore that Anne has found a home among people who are just as dramatic as she is.

Mr Barry redeaming himself somewhat - "Take the carriage! Run boy! Accomplish your dreams!" He's learning, it's all we can ask for. Maybe next season I'll begin to like you again.

That hop out of the carriage, the return of the flirty eyebrows, that kiss; Mr Blythe! Straight out of a romance novel! He knows how to put his romantical notions into action.

"I have follow up questions."

Marilla and Matthew running with the book! The book itself! Mummy Shirley had red hair!!! Baby Anne's First Picnic!!! "Their handwriting looks like mine." !!!

"You are a wish come true, I never knew I was making" Marilla tear my heart out why don't you?!?!

Dear Gilbert I look like my mother.

This was a phenomenal, perfect ending to this series, we were not only fed, but giving a ten course meal, thank you Moira!!! Only thing I could have wished for was more Jerry, because he is a tiny baby, and more ka'kwet. Also the brutal and gruesome death of Billy Andrews would have been a nice bonus, but I'm happy to wait until season 4 that is definitely going to happen.

Now just give me a character on this show for the sole purpose of having a bisexual affair with Winnie Rose. Jo and Gertie 2.0! Meeting in a Parisian bookshop! Yes please!!!

[undersunrise]

@underpressurc

[saixy]

fears

Post-KH3. A parallel between past and present. Isa looks back on his old worries as a child, and how this fear shifted over time.

- - - - -

“What’s your biggest fear?”

It was a question prompted by a game they often liked to play while stargazing: truth or dare. The former was typically easiest for him, since the very prospect of Lea’s outlandish dares sparked anxiety. “Death,” Isa eventually answered, albeit reluctantly. “Or rather, the thought of nonexistence.” He had never really spoken on the matter before. There had been no need, as their conversations were predominantly lighthearted in nature. Isa preferred to keep things like this to himself, for the most part. Lea wore his heart on his sleeve, but Isa prided himself on being difficult to read. Lea was seemingly exempt from this rule. Annoying as it could be, Isa was glad for someone who could understand him to such an extent. “Why? We’re immortal, remember?” It was a ridiculous notion, one that Lea seemed rather fond of. Immortality had been a joke between them for a long while now, prompted by Lea’s miraculous ability to escape stupidly risky situations with little more than a scratch. Isa snorted with thinly veiled amusement. “What are you talking about? Everyone dies, Lea.” “Hey, don’t say that.” Lea shifted to a sitting position, leaning over Isa with an uncharacteristically serious expression. Isa craned his neck to the side, as Lea’s face was now blocking his view of the sky. “Right, sorry. You can live forever in memories, stuff like that.” Lea had always been rather adamant on that subject, more so than anything else they had debated. Isa suspected it played into his own fears, but had never sought confirmation. Lea moved his head again, leaning in closer to place himself at the forefront of Isa’s vision. “Memories are everything, but that’s not what I’m saying here.” He still wore that odd, almost somber expression. “I meant that we’re immortal.”

“That’s not an explanation and you know it.” Isa was impatient and somewhat flustered at the sudden invasion of personal space, but he willed himself to keep his cool. “Us. You and me. Ya know. Like—“ Lea gestured helplessly, waving an arm at the sky overhead. “Like soulmates.” There was a pause, where Isa was rendered temporarily mute from the boldness of the suggestion. “We’ve been dating for less than a week,” he finally said in an incredulous tone. “Shut up! Not just in that way—“ Isa noted the ‘just’ as a sign he had meant it at least partially in a romantic sense. “I mean..I can’t really explain it, but. I feel like no matter what happens, we’ll always be together.” There was a fierce glint in Lea’s eyes, and it was clear his words were sincere. Isa responded in turn, lifting a hand to idly twirl a bit of Lea’s hair that had fallen loose near his face. “If it’s death we’re dealing with, I can’t deny that’s a possibility.” Personally Isa never had expectations for any sort of afterlife, but he was open-minded. “But what about the other thing? Ceasing to exist completely. Losing your identity--your very sense of self-- and never knowing because you wouldn’t be around to comprehend it.” Isa wouldn’t admit it, but this was the aspect of passing on that unsettled him the most. The thought that he could just blink out one day with no warning. Or even worse, without realizing it. Carrying on as a mindless puppet blissfully unaware he had already met his end. That was the plot of the only horror movie that had ever truly frightened him, and it had been lingering in his mind ever since. Isa closed his eyes, shutting out the sun for a moment as he struggled against the whirlpool of mounting panic threatening to drag him down. There was a reason why he never talked about things like this. “Hey,” Lea ghosted fingers across his cheek, searching for tears that Isa absolutely refused to allow. He wasn’t even choked up at all, but it seemed like Lea could sense this was a difficult topic for him. “Forever means forever. Got it memorized?” “You’re being stubborn.” “I am. So what?” “You’re always like this. Especially with the topic at hand, I’ve noticed.” “And you love me for it.” A rather blunt statement for such a new concept to them. Although it wasn’t new at all, not really. They’d always cared deeply for each other, and this was just a previously untouched way of expressing it. “That I do.” Isa hesitated, realizing the boy hovering above him had dodged the point yet again, no doubt purposefully. He wondered if he should push the matter, but decided against it. Instead he leaned forwards slightly, closing the gap between them. It wasn’t their first kiss, and it wouldn’t be their last. But it still had a sense of finality to it, one that Isa could sense even back then. It was as if in that moment, their fate had been sealed. Two things Lea had said that night would stick in Isa’s head over the next decade, becoming a mantra of sorts. Forever is forever, and memories are everything.

- - - - -

It was mostly brief, instinctive flashes of thought and feeling. Rather than concrete memories, they were similar to the lingering remnants of a dream. The more Isa tried to chase them, the more they drifted out of reach. Sometimes he would stare a little too long at the hazy amber reflection of streetlights on rainy pavement, or freeze at the passing sound of a stranger’s laugh. Isa didn’t need to put it into words, and he was grateful for that. Lea seemed to instinctively understand. He had always been good at empathizing with others, a skill Isa had lacked. And so whenever he was struck with one of these odd moments, Lea would wait for him. Always patient, an unwavering beacon of support. Lea helped drag him back down to earth, tying him to the life he had now rather than painful echoes of the past.

And it was a good life, a better one than he’d ever realistically expected. He was home again, finally free from suffocating white walls and the cloying stench of darkness. Reconstruction of the city still had a long way to go, but the Restoration Committee had already made considerable progress in the few years since Radiant Garden was reclaimed. Isa had even managed to snag a spot on their management team, allocating resources where they were needed most and deciding which parts of the city’s old layout to keep and what could be improved upon. He quite enjoyed the work, more so than what he’d initially anticipated going into it. The labor was slow, but ultimately productive. And something that held a lot of meaning to him. It was no dream astronomy job, but he was happy.

The highlight of his day would always be returning to his house, a cozy little abode near the fountain district. The site of their former homes lay further away from the city center, in a segment of the city that had been all but razed to the ground. The higher ups had deemed it a low priority area, which Isa was determined to change. But for now, this location was perfect. Moving in with Lea had been an easy decision, and when Ansem had offered them the house as reparation for the horrors they’d been subjected to as children, he could hardly refuse. Roxas and Xion had an apartment where they attended school in Twilight Town, which was also funded by the castle’s reserves. On breaks and weekends they frequented Radiant Garden, and Isa often flew to Twilight Town after work to hang out or assist them with projects. At first he only visited alongside Lea, but as the awkwardness faded and they settled into more of a family dynamic, Isa would fly over of his own accord. Being split between two cities like this wasn’t ideal, but Isa’s heart and responsibilities lay in Radiant Garden and he couldn't ask those kids to give up the place that had always felt like home to them. They deserved what had been stolen from Lea and himself so long ago: the chance to grow up at their own pace in a safe town surrounded by those who care about them.

It was hard not to think back when he was constantly surrounded with so many reminders of his past. This was a caveat of choosing to live where he’d both grown up and lost his heart. There were memories tied to everything around him. A street where they found a stray dog once, a storm drain that had claimed Lea’s favorite frisbee and led to an impromptu journey through the sewers. These flashes were mostly pleasant, if bittersweet, snapshots into their former life. The painful memories were there too, mainly tied to the castle itself. Working there was stressful at first, but he managed. Isa avoided the labs, and everyone respected this. From the start, it had become obvious that honesty would be a necessity with this arrangement. It was still a struggle to be open even with himself after spending so long shutting people out, but Isa made an effort to try. So he voiced what made him uncomfortable, and confided in his friends whenever he was struggling. He would often reminisce with Lea when they were together. But sometimes he still preferred to ponder things alone. This was one of those nights, as he sat on a fountain’s edge gazing down at the rippling reflection of the moon. During his childhood he had always been somewhat reserved. He was the model student, in the eyes of many. Never afraid to state his opinion when asked, but often choosing to hang back in favor of watching his classmates. Isa felt as if he learned more by analyzing the classroom than from the teachers themselves. He could easily spot the holes in the other student’s arguments and use them to amend and strengthen his own. The process was simple, and one he knew all too well. Observe, pinpoint a weakness, execute. Again, one of those things that stirred up almost-memories. It was bitter ash on his tongue and a glint of steel in the moonlight. A wolf stalking its prey for days on end until it finally determined the optimal moment to lunge for the killing blow and drown the world in gold. Muffled sobs torn out by a blade as ruthless as its owner. It had been easier when he wasn’t in control. Terrifying at first, but he eventually found comfort in the moments where his mind buzzed to static. It was painfully ironic how quickly he had come to accept this fear of losing himself. He was always somewhat present, but his body was on autopilot. ‘Plausible deniability’ was one of the phrases that had been thrown around after the war was won. Many on the side of the keyblade wielders were sympathetic to his position, but there were also those who voted against the pardoning of himself and the others that had been tied up in Xehanort’s plans. In their eyes he was simply a byproduct of darkness, broken beyond repair. Xehanort was dead, so they wanted a scapegoat. It was only natural. The need for blame was understandable, so Isa paid no mind to the glares he sometimes received walking through the city streets. Radiant Garden had suffered greatly, more so than the other worlds claimed by darkness. The Fall happened so swiftly not all were able to relocate in time. And with Ansem and the castle guard opting for a seige approach, the citizens were left to fend for themselves. Many were reborn in a similar fashion to Isa and the rest, but not all. This great loss of life was what drove him forwards in his work to help others, despite the scorn he often received. Once he’d have been outraged to take the blame for a calamity beyond his control, but now Isa carried that weight with a weary acceptance. Of course they all struggled with their own demons, some worse than others. It was their burden to bear, and Isa was fine with it. He was lucky, all things considered. After everything he had still managed to regain his heart, body, and mind. He had a family now, and he loved them more than anything. The sun, the moon, and their two stars shining through the twilight mist. It was a picturesque ending, one fit for a storybook. It was more than he could have ever hoped for. It was entirely unfair. He still felt this lingering sense of dread, as if he shouldn’t be here. Similar to when Lea had dragged him into various schemes of dubious legality in days gone by. Sometimes he entered his own house and for an instant he was holding his breath behind a hedge on the castle grounds. Arguing the technicalities of blame was a fruitless endeavor, as it would do little to ease the crushing weight of guilt that had settled deep within his chest. His memories were fragmented, but he was still very much aware of his own actions within the Organization. He knew the series of events and how everything had played out, but had difficulty recalling anything beyond an impersonal recap. His own thoughts and ghosts of emotions he may have felt at the time were still a mystery for the most part. It seemed Lea had no issues with this, and as such Isa suspected the lack of memories regarding individuality was a result of Xehanort’s prolonged influence over his mind. As far as he knew Terra was the only one who described a similar experience, which only strengthened this theory. He supposed the automatic distance was nice, in a way. It helped build a concrete separation between Saix of the past and himself in the present. Still, at times the cold numbness made him sick. He was working from the facts here, and could only guess at the reasoning behind some of his past actions. Back then he’d convinced himself that miserable state of existence had split him into a being of pure logic. After all, there were no longer any emotions to interfere with his decisions. Nothing to sway him from what must be done. Oh how wrong he was. In retrospect he felt like a fool, denying what had been in plain sight for so long.

Roxas and Xion had made Axel truly feel something again. Tangible, undeniable emotion that defied all reason. And now Isa realized they were to thank for his own shift in demeanor, near the end. Axel’s first taste of emotion had been love for his newfound family. The need to protect what was in front of him had outweighed the tired notion of striving for a seemingly unreachable goal. Years of hard work had granted very little progress in regaining their hearts or finding the girl once held in captivity. And tired of chasing ghosts, Lea had latched onto the present moment and found a cause that could light the spark he’d been seeking for so long. Isa wasn’t so lucky. This pathetic shadow of a heart had manifested itself as jealousy, sharp and bitter. And only then could he feel the underlying anger that had been driving him forward for so long. It was rage beyond reason, a swift undercurrent threatening to overwhelm his senses at any moment. And when he did allow it to take control, it was different from before. Berserking had once sent his consciousness into a state of almost peaceful dissociation. Now it was like wading through a river of dissonance, icy tar filling his lungs as a whirlpool of screams sucked him down into the murky depths. And this Styx became his own personal hell, something he dreaded. Because it made no sense why he’d be struggling with this now, after years of brutal training had hardened his edges and honed him to flawless lethality. The fighting style he’d mastered was hinged on relinquishing control, but he’d never actually felt unsafe while doing so. What had he worked so hard for all these years if his own mind would prove to be his downfall? During those few moments of lucidity in the final battle, he could do little more than hold his head and cry out in agony as daggers pierced his skull and keyblades rained down from above. A call for help, manifesting itself in the only way he knew how. And it had worked, in the end. Despite everything Lea was once again hovering over him, blocking out the sky with his own blinding light. That tearful smile sweetened the taste of death, and the following kiss moments before he faded finally left him with a reason to pray to whatever tyrant god responsible for these endless years of pain for another chance at life. Maybe immortality wasn’t so far from the truth after all.

“You’re upset.”

The sudden voice echoing through the courtyard startled Isa from his thoughts, but he quickly relaxed at the familiar tone. He gave a noncommittal hum, watching Lea approach the fountain where he sat. “I haven’t said a word.”

“Don’t need to.” Lea took a seat beside him, wincing at the shock from the fountain’s spray. Isa was wearing a jacket that slicked off the stray droplets, but Lea’s sweater would no doubt end up soaked. “It’s the way you’re sitting. Like you’re trying to make yourself as small as possible.”

Crossed arms held close to his chest, one leg propped over the other. Isa hadn’t even realized he was so tense until he had been called out on it. “I trust you’re not just here to analyze my body language?”

“Nah.” Before Isa could ask, Lea offered the reasoning behind his deduction. “You never sat like that before. Only during the later years of the Organization.”

Right, one of Saix’s mannerisms. Or rather, Xehanort’s. He hurriedly uncrossed his arms, instead choosing to grip the edge of the fountain. The stone was cold and damp against his bare skin, and he welcomed the sensation. It was the little things like this that unsettled him the most. How easily one could fall back into learned behavior. “Why do you have to be so damn perceptive?”

“It’s part of the charm.” Lea wasn’t wrong there. And honestly, Isa wouldn’t have it any other way. Flashing a warm smile, Lea rested a hand on his shoulder. The gentle weight was reassuring. Isa closed his eyes in return, leaning into the touch.

“You know I’m here if talking would help.”

He’d been trying to open up more, for the sake of both of them. The hardest part was figuring out where to begin unravelling the tangled knot wound deep within his heart. But Isa was quieter now, overall. Or so he had been told. He hadn’t noticed a difference until Lea had pointed it out recently. Now that he was aware of the change, he could definitely see it for himself. Where he once would have chimed in with a quick jab or retort there was only silence. Isa found that during these moments, he was simply unsure of what to say and when to say it. He was more hesitant now, afraid of speaking out of turn and accidentally causing harm. The banter between himself and Lea had always felt so effortless, but now it was halting and unsure. They had moved past walking on eggshells long ago, but now Isa was treading on a self-imposed path of fine china. He knew they’d move beyond this too, eventually. When more time had passed and old wounds had the chance to heal over. Recovery was an ongoing process, and they were both very aware of this. He’d learned that honesty was an important step in building back those bridges, so this time Isa decided to share what was on his mind. Talking things over with Lea almost always made him feel better. Rather than take him up on the offer directly, he went for a different approach.

“Hey Lea. Truth or dare?”

“Wait, what? Where’s this coming from?” Lea raised an eyebrow, obviously confused at the question. At Isa’s glare, understanding seemed to dawn upon him. “Oh. Well, I’m feeling like this is a truth sort of night.” In their childhood Lea had always favored dares, much to Isa’s chagrin. Thankfully he caught the drift here.

“Do you still believe it? What you used to say when we were young. Memories are everything.” He called back to the old quote so casually, as if he hadn’t been repeating it over and over when memories were all he had to remind him why life was something worth fighting for.

Lea spent a few moments in silence, gathering his thoughts. Isa took the opportunity to lay flat against the stone wall, head resting in Lea’s lap as he faced the sky. Since his return to Radiant Garden, stargazing had quickly reclaimed its place as one of his favorite pastimes. The familiar view brought with it a certain sense of stability and comfort.

When Lea finally spoke, he lowered a hand to settle lightly in Isa’s hair. “Memories are important, but they can’t define us completely. It’s a double-edged blade. The effect you leave behind on people-- it can be a gift, but just as easily cause harm. And sometimes you misjudge.”

“It wasn’t all an oversight.” And that was the sickening part, what fueled the guilt that often kept him awake at night. There was a time where he’d knowingly hurt those who were now closest to him. And so many others he’d never see again. Innocent bystanders caught in the carnage of a struggle that was not their own. There was no way to tell for sure how much blood was on his hands, and Isa wasn’t sure he’d want to know even if it were possible.

“Of course not. Conflict is...it’s cruel, Isa.” There was a slight tug as the hand moved to stroke downwards, gently combing through his hair. This was a new method of comfort, one that Lea had quickly picked up on when they’d been reunited after the war. “The important thing is to cherish the good moments and learn from the bad.”

It was true that Isa had learned a lot throughout this whole ordeal. About himself, the world as a whole, and his relationships with others. He was still struggling for self-acceptance, but at least he had a better understanding of things than before. He was able to identify exactly what had led him to the eventual downfall that had nearly severed his bond with Lea. Now that he’d strayed onto the wrong path he could move forwards along a better one, making amends wherever possible. They had made an oath then, when Isa had first regained consciousness. Joint sobs echoing through laboratory halls as they swore to never allow anything or anybody to tear them apart again.

“My turn now. Truth or dare?”

At least he’d answered directly this time. Isa was satisfied, so he supposed a question in return was fair. “Is there a point in asking?”

“Well, yeah. Otherwise it’s not a game.” As if they were doing this for fun in the first place. Lea mulled over his options, still stroking through Isa’s hair. “When you wake during the night, you look so...terrified. What is it that you’re scared of?”

This question did catch him a bit off guard. Isa had never confided in him or anyone else about the nightmares. And Lea didn’t push him to say anything, always helping him through it without question. Speaking about it in the moment would only make the experience more painful, but Lea deserved to know. Maybe not the full details yet, but the recurring themes that caused him to panic.

From the direction these questions were taking Isa was sure Lea was also thinking back on that night so many years ago. It was one of the last they had spent together, perched on a rooftop in their favorite spot overlooking the castle gardens. He had known infiltrating the castle was a risky move, but neither of them could have ever guessed that only a few days later they would wind up as the next victims of the horrific experiments that had already claimed hundreds of innocent lives. So Isa looked back fondly on that last week or so, where the mounting pressure of continuing their investigation without being caught was briefly drowned out by the innocent joy of newfound love. He settled for a simple response, falling into Lea’s old habit of avoiding the real question at hand. “You asked this before.”

“And the answer?”

Isa should have known it would be pointless to try such tactics against the king of deflection himself. “...Dying is overrated.”

This earned a chuckle from Lea. Oh how he’d missed that sound. “You were able to face your fears, at least.”

“As for you?” This time Isa’s curiosity got the best of him. He might as well ask.

“Hey, it’s my turn to ask the questions here.” Lea paused from doting on Isa’s hair to leave a reprimanding tap on his nose. “...You’re right though, it’s the same for me. When we were kids, I...I really didn’t like the idea that I could ever lose you.” He smiled down at Isa, a bit sadly. “Guess that never changed.”

No matter how much Lea tried to hide it, Isa could still hear that lingering pain in his voice. Even during the quieter moments like this, emotions still ran high. It was so much better than not feeling at all, but almost a full year later and he still found himself adjusting. So when he spoke to open up in return, it was a struggle not to get choked up. “I wasn’t afraid of death as a concept, but more so the threat of losing myself. Now that I’ve lived out that reality...I’ve come to accept it.” It was still there, a distant possibility but present nonetheless. The lingering fear he would once again be dragged down by the mind of another. It would never truly disappear, but at least it was no longer a driving factor in his life. Isa refused to give that fear the opportunity to control him. “That’s not what haunts me now. Not exactly.” Now that he’d started, speaking like this was a lot easier. “I’m not frightened of myself, or the possibility of Xehanort’s shadow still lurking in my mind. I’m afraid that I’ll lose everything we’ve worked to rebuild. Our home, our family. Us.” There was no hiding the tremor in his voice, and this time when Lea shifted a hand to Isa’s cheek he was met with tears. Once he might have blamed it on the fountain spray, but now he valued such displays of emotion. It was a sign of life, a reminder that they could allow themselves to simply feel without shame or denial.

“Isa...I won’t let that happen.” Those words were spoken with so much conviction Isa could almost believe it.

“I know--I know. And yet...” His throat was tight again, and so he took a shuddering breath rather than try to finish the thought.

“That’s the thing about fear.” Lea was blotting out the stars again, a curtain of crimson to shield Isa from the world. “It can be irrational, but that doesn’t lessen the pain.”

Isa’s words were little more than a whisper. “For so long I’d assumed I was too far gone. I only feared that you would be taken away from me as well. That’s why it broke me, when...” he trailed off, as there was no need to further explain. They’d already discussed this and made amends, but speaking of past mistakes never got any easier.

“I’ll do anything to ensure you never have to feel that way again.” Lea’s voice took on a slightly grim edge, reminiscent of days gone by. Isa hadn’t heard that in a while, but here it was welcome.

Isa laughed breathlessly. “I’m the only one responsible this time around. And that’s the one thing you would never do. Hurt me.” After all, it was Isa’s own mind supplying the nightmares and the anxiety that followed him through the day.

“Inflicting pain isn’t the only solution.” Internal warfare like this wasn’t the type of combat they were accustomed to. Lashing out was all they’d been taught, and Isa still had to remind himself of this, even when the foes he faced were no longer a physical threat.

“Then what is?”

Lea’s silence spoke volumes here. Neither of them had all the answers, even if it was easier to pretend otherwise. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as Isa closed his eyes. The sun often had a blinding effect and now was one of the times where he had to look away for fear of making the pain worse.

“Love.”

Isa wasn’t expecting an answer, so his eyes flew open at that. Such a deceptively simple word for how drastically it had shaped his life. “I know you love me, but that won’t stop the nightmares.”

Lea moved his head closer to press lips against Isa’s forehead. “s’ not an instant fix.”

“Nothing ever is.” His breathing was steadier now, soothed by Lea’s touch.

“That’s not always a bad thing.” And it was true. If life’s problems were so easy to solve then he’d never have realized the how much of a difference embracing his emotions could make.

“Guess I’m a long-term project.” Isa dipped into that sense of dry humor as the darkness clutching at his heart began to retreat, warded off by the flame that had always lit up his life.

“You’d better be,” From the smile against his skin, Isa knew Lea was glad that the encouragement had finally managed to get through.

“I am. Because we’re immortal, right?” He managed to surprise Lea with that, and Isa savored the brief expression of wonder before it was drowned out by a proper kiss. And he suddenly understood what Lea had meant all those years ago.

[talldarkandroguesome]

If you think your husband what do you see?

A delicate frame poised confidently with grace and pride. Movements akin to that of the most renowned dancers, while still maintaining the skill of hand to rival the famed craftsman of even the most prestigious guilds.

The aroma that lingers, clinging to his clothing and skin is the scent of spices, calling to mind stories of an unknown land, whose climate is hot and dry, but whose people are warm and accepting, a place I have never traveled, yet can readily romanticize through the loving delivery of the tales of its people and culture and landscape, painting the very picture of a desert paradise, a place where everyone cares for one another and possessions and provisions are shared based off of necessity, not greed or money or some notion of birth right.

I think of the timber of a voice, accent thick enough to make familiar words sounds exciting, new, rejuvenated. It is a voice that can be gentle, soothing as a warm breeze in spring time, lulling you to let go of your worries, the fears and anxieties of the outside world, to concentrate only on its rich quality and the tone of each syllable that glides easily over lush, thick lips.

Or it can be raised in excitement, spinning tales of ancient gods and of long since perished, but never forgotten, heroes, wise clan mothers, and ancestors, telling of the harsh struggles and the hard won victories, of destruction, of creation, of all the things life and the universe is given to encompass, carrying you along with each line as a mentor leading their apprentice by the hand through the steps of a new task or skill to be learned, able to observe all the pitfalls and dangers, but remain safe, protected, traveling together.

And there are times, either traveling along the trail at night, following only the light of the stars and moons, or by the glow of the fireside as the wood spits and crackles between us, his voice would take on another tone. Could it be that I was mistaken, a trick of the light or some lingering strand of magicka on the night breeze that momentarily places you under its enchantment, for his eyes would glint and gleam in a way they do not in the sun, and a hint of something darker, playful, almost mischievous would enter his voice, like a thin line of shadow growing at noon, a sultry depth and richness would color his words, like an artist adding dimension to a painting, the meaning of words suddenly seeming more vast and full of possibility than they had, silent, almost secret, words appear in the momentary fractions of silence that join words, never spoken, their meanings lost before me, and though I grasp at them like a drowning man flounders for a rope or branch or root to pull himself free of the frigid rushing rapids, only the keeper of those words knows their true intentions. I feel wrapped in the words, spoken and silent, like a thick velvet cape, blocking out the elements around me, warming my body, almost too much, and I long to stop him to ask for the meaning of the unspoken, but to interrupt their flow is to lose that sensation of those words as they lap at my body like the ocean waves upon the shore, a silent ecstasy of auditory stimulation that manifests itself in a raw physical form, as if it were a corporeal being, ethereal as the light that reflects from his ice blue eyes like diamonds, and it washes over me and I feel the weight of my sin and deviance, yet as it sweeps over me I am cleansed of my wrongs, everything replaced by the exquisite desire such sounds call forth from within me.

I think of the many possibilities that have been lost to time, of the many joys that fate has kept us from by forcing us into so long a separation. Yet I know, deep within every fiber at the very core of my being, by the beating of my own heart, that we will be reunited again. Though tragedy and misunderstandings threatened to tear us apart, ripped forever in different directions as a mighty tree is torn from its spot in the earth by violent winds and cast down the slope of a mountain, I will prevail. I am not a tree, I have the means to move, and I shall not remain at a distance forever.

Although I waver at the thought of his ire, his voice twisted in pain as he bid me flee from his sight after I had found him once more after searching all over Skyrim for him, him believing, falsely, that I had had him sent to rot in the stinking cells of a Whiterun prison. Yet I can still remember the tenderness of his stroking my hair, of a small brush of his tail, half wrapped around me in passing, of small smiles and genuine laughter, of sharing stories of his home and family, and of his staying curled up against me throughout cold winter nights. And how could I forget, although the motivation was for material gain, that he chose me to take to the alter before a Nord priest of Mara and take a pledge to him, of us to one another? Even if it means nothing to him, even if it has been lost to his memory forever, I shall still hold onto thoughts of that day.

Mah, my heart aches when I think of him. I miss my Daelekil dearly. There has rarely been a traveling companion I have cared more for. These thoughts are too bittersweet, I need a cask of wine.

[mardigrasqueen-blog]

One Thousand Love Letters Meditation: Love and Other Contracts

Love is completely selfish. I pondered on this notion as I walked around Peter Bruun’s One Thousand Love Letters exhibit in the Maryland Art Place. It may sound contradictory as Bruun’s exhibit is something so touching and romantic, but past the obvious emotional impact, there is something inherently greedy in the expression of love. The exhibit is broken into 4 of 8 themes: “Forever Family,” “Cupid’s Arrow,” “Wild Horses,” and “Love Thyself.” Each depicting love in different forms and contexts. When asked whether or not one type of love can be possibly stronger than the other, Bruun claims “There is no hierarchy in love.” So then as I walked around, why was I immediately drawn to each section in my own specific order? With all due respect to Peter Bruun, the answer is because there is indeed a hierarchy in love. There is a path of least resistance in our hearts, that I recognised in reflecting over the experience. In my theory, the hierarchy goes respectively: the love we desire, the love we are most familiar with, the love we don’t understand, and the love we take for granted. How we decide upon these categories are the values and conditionals we place on our relationships.

I was first drawn to Cupid’s Arrow because this is the type of love I’m pathetically desperate for. In Fredrich Nietzche’s The Gay Science, Aphorism’s #14 poses the idea that romantic love “betrays itself most plainly as the striving after possession: the lover wants the unconditioned, sole possession of the person longed for by him; he wants just as absolute power over her soul as over her body; he wants to be loved solely, and to dwell and rule in the other soul as what is highest and most to be desired.” We seek romance because we want to be someone’s everything. It may sound egotistical and asking for too much, but isn’t love a transaction of sorts? If my lover fails to show me intimacy, passion, and friendship, what use is he to me? Alternatively, what use am I to my lover if I fail to give him the same? The love letters Peter Bruun hangs in this section hold the same virtue. Many, if not most, claim how their lover makes them feel sexually, spiritually, and emotionally. Romantic love is also the most conditional of all. The bittersweet reality of modern romance is that love comes and goes. Yet we continue to risk the pain of losing someone who we give ourselves to because the cost of love is insignificant to the benefit of it. Not anyone can be my everything. For me, that someone should preferably be tall, pretty faced, and a man. He has to be intelligent, amusing, honest, and able to keep up with me. Why do I have these conditions? Because it’s not a matter of what someone else wants, it’s what I specifically value in myself and others. I refuse to settle for less because if I do, I’m not being true to myself. So I’ll suffer the boredom and loneliness of being single because I know it is in my self-interest to fulfil my conditionals. What’s more special than a stranger finding everything they could possibly want in someone as different and flawed as I am? Romeo and Juliet betrayed their families and died in the name of love because they gave each other seemingly what no one else could ever. Rose found in Jack freedom from her oppressive upper-class expectations. Shah Jahan did not commission the Taj Mahal for his dead wife Mumtaz’s use, but for his own sake. Music, film, literature, and visual art express the pain and joy we feel when we find someone to share our lives with. No one is inherently entitled to this love, but it is the love we actively work the most towards making it more valuable. In the same way I watch romantic films and listen to romantic music, I dwelled in Bruun’s letters. In the same way I tell myself when I feel alone that I won’t always feel this way, they comforted me. They assured me that being a hopeless romantic isn’t a waste of time, but rather a calculated emotional investment.

I then moved along to Forever Family as it’s the most familiar type of love to me. My mother has been there my entire life. Growing up I never questioned why she loved me because I believed it was her job to love me. And now from an analytical point, I understand that concept. It’s simple biology to explain the love of a mother. A child gives a mother purpose, and a mother gives a child the best possible circumstances to survive. It’s true today as well. If there’s one type of person I can be vulnerable around it’s my family. They protect me in times of distress, uncertainty, and fear. My mother grew up in a broken family, forced to grow up before her time. I can see how she heals from that pain by doing absolutely anything for my siblings and me. She pushes us to work hard, to be independent, and do what we can to keep our minds and bodies healthy. And in times I feel worthless, like a failure and ugly, she is there to tell me I am wrong. She tells me I am beautiful and fearless, and I deserve every happiness. I love my mother because I trust her to give me stability and hope, as it’s her job too. My father’s love follows this same principle though his love comes in the form of practicality. My father can’t bear to see me or my siblings suffering. He works incessantly to make sure we have a home, food, and the best possible education. He teaches us the virtue of responsibility and honesty. I take that for granted sometimes. And regrettably, I don’t tell him I love him often enough. Forever Family captures the essence of family. Letters to siblings, parents, and friends all speak of the necessity of seemingly unconditional support. Love Letter #52 from Megan to her mother expresses what we value the most from our parents, “Thanks for raising me right, showing me how to live a whole life, and loving me even when I’m really hard to love.” What makes a family, is the ability to forgive and understand. My sister, brother and I are so different yet so similar. We are stubborn and ambitious. We compete and play rough. Yet when we feel defeated by the unforgiving world, we support each other as teammates. The difference between family and friends is that one feels effortless. Like minds attract each other. My best friend Katie is hundreds of miles away, yet I don’t miss her because I feel her presence with me. We give each other laughter and support. Though she may not realise it, she reminds me that I don’t always have to pretend to be an adult, holding the weight of the world on my shoulders. I am with my family for the same reason lions stay in a pride: to survive in the unpredictable and perilous wild.

It was my curiosity that pulled me towards Wild Horses. Addiction is foreign to me. It’s a tragedy that occurs elsewhere. And as I observed the different messages, I felt truly selfish. I could not relate my own benefit to this love, but in further inspection found that perhaps what exists is just hope. Peter Bruun understands this love. It is what triggered his creation. Beyond the pain, suffering, confusion and resistance, there is hope that perhaps there is more than addiction to live for. Bruun could give only this to his daughter before she passed away. I felt selfish gazing upon the pain. Expressions of love resonate with us because it is integral to who we are. As I sought to understand this love I could only muster a guess as to what it might feel like to love someone who is being controlled by a substance, or alternatively be someone struggling to find in love what they attempt to in substance. And so I move forward, accepting what I hopefully cannot ever understand.

Finally, I came to Love Thyself. I do love myself. I am incredibly resilient and ambitious. I am intelligent, understanding, bold, and impulsive. I am stubborn and think too much. I’d like to believe I have a good sense of humour, great taste in everything, and that I am incredibly sexy (like really sexy). I believe in truth and integrity. I feel too much too often. I am confident in myself because I am incessantly striving to change and be better. And with love and lust for life, I find that there is nothing above myself. Not fear or complacency. There is one person you should ultimately be loyal to and that is yourself. You exist, and that is enough reason to fight for yourself.

Peter Bruun’s One Thousand Love Letters has allowed me to understand how integral love is to who we are. Survival is the strongest drive of humanity. And to survive we love as conditionally and complexly. Without love, we are nothing but skin and bone, stumbling through existence aimlessly. We love for our own sake; to feel comfort, passion, and lively. It is our salvation and the reason to push forward against suffering.  It is completely egotistical. Yet, essential for our humanity.