like…listen…everything is messy as hell and Lukas is in a really bad place and it’s all stressful as anything but…that scene with Philip and Lukas and Anne…where Lukas admits out loud to someone other than Philip, that he likes Philip and it’s hard for him…and Anne reassured him it was ok and kissed his cheek…I’d like to thank each and every deity for that scene because it cleansed my skin and watered my crops and added years to my life


Take the courses. Brace the main and mizzen aback. Haul in the guns. Close all the gun ports. You’re letting up? With the damage done to the rig, I can’t maneuver our broadside around fast enough to be of any effect. The sloops are too nimble. But hauling in the guns? They’ll board us easily.

Guys can we just talk about how much deeper Philip’s character is. Not in the sense of who he is but where he came from. Let it sink in that his life at home was so bad that the court decided to completely detach him from his only family (Anne) and his childhood home, and the city he grew up in. He is not allowed to even contact Anne until the court grants them permission- can you even possibly imagine what was happening in that house, what state they found this young man in, what conditions he was living under that they had to go to the full extent of ripping him away from there and demanding that he doesn’t go anywhere near there, or get in contact with Anne unless the demand was alleviated? To me that’s the worst thing about watching Philip get hurt constantly, he’s already beaten to the pulp and just when he thinks it’s getting better, it slides down hill for him… again. 

anne giving shit advice, telling philip to keep his secret, but only bc she so desperately wants philip to have the safe home she can’t give him and doesn’t want anything to jeopardize that

bo worrying that the sound of his voice could actually do lukas harm, knowing just how fractured their relationship is. bo asking philip to visit lukas, because he knows philip would better know, would actually be, what lukas wants to hear

helen finally, point blank, apologizing to philip for not trusting him, and more importantly for not letting him in

and then there’s gabe, Pure and Parent personified, protecting philip from helen and bo, but giving them second chances, smiling benevolently whenever he sees someone attempt to parent, it’s all he ever wants for their kids

One Day [TianShan Week: 6]

Day 6: One Day

→  the indefinite time yet to come.

← Day 5: AU

18th February 2017

I saw you today. You looked well. There were empty galaxies in your dark eyes where stars should have been trailing comet lights. You asked me how I was. I said the space around you still smelled of cigarettes. Fuck.

18th February 2018

You look sharper and your words still pierce like there are x’s on my body and you know where to cut, but I’m still holding onto the hilt and sinking in, and the slide is like putting my head under water and thinking I can still breathe: gasping, retching; my lungs are wrapping themselves inside out, and all of me is on show.

18th February 2020

You’re in the army, enduring, and I’m here, not, and you saved me a seat in the café and bought me sweet tea and you still smoke. I started smoking, for a while, because—no, don’t. You know why. It always tasted better on your lips.

18th February 2025

Your skin is etched where it didn’t use to be, and shadows have made their home out of you: the hallows of your ribs, the blessèd small of your back, those sanctified spaces between the grooves of your finger joints. I never used to think that you could be holy.

18th February 2026

Distance does not make the heart grow fonder, and when we fucked for the first time my lunar heart was scrabbling to take hold of your satellites. There was a moment where your lips, ferocious, made new skin out of the territory between my thighs, uncharted, unplotted on your maps. I was readying myself to be conquered, and made into a name that your tongue could wrap itself around. One day, you whispered, before you left, I will capture you whole.

18th February 2028

You fell to your knees and pressed your head to my stomach. I could see the dark crown of your head and the curve of your broad and scarred shoulders like you were Atlas and I was a too-heavy Earth. I told you to let me go. Lighten the load. You said you would bear it until you broke. I thought, traitorous, my palm on your neck, that you already had.

23rd October 2029

I dreamt tonight that you were here and learning how sorry’s worked. For the purple stains you left me the first time like summer storm skies. For the mess you made of my pink mouth. For the jacket you refused to take back. The feel of that fabric stung more than anything else, and you refused to take it back. Keep your sorry’s.

18th February 2030

You’re still keeping your promise and I think, probably, it is the only one you have ever made. Ever kept. One day a year, you said. I get that it’s difficult for you. To look at our unsafe sky and watch the colours change shape in hours—twenty-four—that we can hold in our palms. One day we will have more than one day. I know we will.

19th February 2031

Good morning. You didn’t leave. You’re warm on my sheets and you bring me sweet tea. My cheeks are blotchy, aren’t they? Let me brush my teeth first. In the mirror, you’re smiling. You’re swimming and I can see only the murky, hovering outline of you. Every day, you murmur, tremulous, close in my ear, if you’ll have me. My heart is breaking out of me, and I wonder that you can’t see it. I’m snatching at those words, a grubby child’s palm, and I’m not giving them back.