The other night, I had a dream about Lieutenant Lesaro.
I was standing on a slope. In front of me was a field of wheat, unripened and still very pale green. To my right was an old farm, the kind of farm that has been lived in since the 1700s, the cracks in the walls visibly plastered over even from a distance.
Gui was standing next to me, in black jeans and a black leather jacket.
The sun was setting.
He turned towards me, his hands reached for mine and held them between his. I remember in the dream actually feeling the warmth of his hands. The sun cast his skin gold, his eyes were illuminated warm and clear, like syrup.
He didn't say anything but I had the strongest sense he was telling me he would wait. For as long as it took.
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The backlash against Frozen, which, from my observation, has cooled down (that isn't a joke, I swear-) quite a bit over the past few years, was less based on the quality of the movie itself and more on the fact that its massive success and reach really overshadowed a lot of other movies that came out prior to it and after it and was getting credited for stuff that had already been done before plenty of times, and in many cases, in those exact movies. This is why, to this day, many fans STILL refuse to give Tangled its props without trying to put Frozen down in some way. In their eyes, Tangled should have gotten the glory and accolades Frozen received, but did not, and that made them quite jealous. Overall, Frozen is far from a bad movie. It's a great movie with a great message, characters, music and does actually deserve the success and recognition it got, and some fans need to stop being so salty about it and uplift their fav movies without putting Frozen down so they get the proper appreciation they deserve as well. Although, yes, the credit this movie got for allegedly introducing themes, archetypes and tropes that had already been seen before in Disney, including movies set in a fairytale world with heroines as the protags, was undoubtedly the most annoying part about its success and is part of the reason why many tried to drag this movie and its main leads.
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"One True Love"
Solomon hated those three words.
To most people, they were considered the epitome of many a romantic plot; the neat and tidy way to wrap up a story and let the viewer know that the couple indeed loved each other very much, oftentimes ending with a "happily ever after".
To others, it was a goal. Something and someone to strive for. Your "One True Love". The only person in the world that was meant for you.
It made him sick.
What kind of goal was that? Why would anyone resign themselves to such a fate? Glorify it? Place it on the highest pedestal as the ultimate relationship to ever exist?
What kind of cruel joke would that be for an immortal?
He couldn't imagine it. Couldn't imagine never meeting and falling in love with his lovers past. He loved them, truly loved them, with all of his heart. Each and every one of them.
He could picture their faces. He could hear their voice. When he was alone in bed, and the darkness obscured his covers, he could imagine each and every one of them laying beside him.
He could feel the pain of losing them. Each new way his heart had shattered. An agony that he would forget each time his heart mended, a new loss now fresh and new and biting. Until it faded again. Until he began feeling normal again.
And then he met someone new.
And the exhilaration. The flirting and teasing and banter that made his heart race and face flush in spite of the aloof front he tried to put up, every single time.
The thrill of returned feelings, of first dates and subtle touches, of early stages that went by entirely too quickly, but always settled in to something much greater.
The comfort, the absolute comfort of someone who knew you. By far, his favorite part was the settling in to each other, no more firsts or surprises to be had, just a home to return to. A safe space, in the shape of a person who looked to him for the exact same things.
And then it would be over, and the cycle would repeat. Endlessly.
And while in many ways he hated it, hated the curse of immortality and the grief of losing every person he ever loved, who would he be if he hadn't loved them? Who would he be if his story had been one of "One True Love", destined to end when he himself could not?
He couldn't fathom it.
How twisted by grief would he have become? How bitter would he have been for millennia, witnessing generation after generation fall in love and die in turn? What kind of man would he have become?
He never thought himself much a romantic, but maybe he would have to reconsider that.
Because he couldn't live without love. He couldn't live without the feelings of accepting and being accepted by someone in the most simple yet intimate of ways. He couldn't live without the inside jokes whispered in crowded spaces with hands intertwined, or the evenings spent apart yet together in the same room, the mere presence of each other being enough.
And as he bore witness to new feelings blossoming, as he nurtured the familiar feeling in his chest, beating together with his heart, he realized...
...He couldn't live with "One True Love".
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