#it’s a bit of a stretch but I hope the real-life anniversary ties into more OoT callbacks in TotK

[giriduck]

Ocarina of Time celebrates its 25th anniversary this year. 🤯

Which by extension, means it’s been a quarter of a century since Ganondorf was introduced to the series (not counting the brief mention in A Link to the Past).

[dynyamight]

“ I’ve killed people for less. “ and drinks their drink

owo 👀💙

send me an interaction ask bonus + action

“I’ve killed people for less.” + drinks their drink

The local news is like the thrift store, for Midoriya. Sometimes, you find the most fascinating stories, begging to be delved further. Murder cases. Lawsuits. Activist movements. Protests.

But, other times-- read, the majority of the time-- it’s overwhelmingly flooded with completely mundane stories. Pet findings. New pop up store. Celebrity sightings. An anniversary of a statue that no one ever cares about.

And, with every stack of newspapers he scans through, Midoriya begins to realize that tonight was one of those dead end nights. Unfortunately.

Aizawa’s going to have a field day yelling at him tomorrow afternoon. The newspaper company is itching for a new story, and Midoriya coming in, empty handed, is only going to upset everyone else, too.

So here Midoriya was, inside a bar, a couple of miles away from where he lived. Hoping running away from his workspace would bring peace.

Originally, Midoriya had been walking down the bustling streets of Shibuya aimlessly, unsure where he was headed. All he knew was that he needed at least the rest of the night by himself, or that’s how long Midoriya planned to stay out. To freshen his mind. Clear it.

But, from the way his fingers began to turn numb, Midoriya knew he couldn't stay out any longer.

What caught his attention was the jazzy music that came from a bar, illuminated by it's red neon, wide cursive label. As he neared it, the aroma of strong liquor stung his nostrils, but by no means stopped him from wanting to enter.

First, he stands waiting outside the closed doors, rubbing his hands vigorously to stay warm. However, the longer he stood, shivering worse and worse, no employee ever came out. Unable to stand outside, Midoriya pushes through the doors, and hopes he isn’t intruding.

Even though not many were seated inside the place, Midoriya already began to feel uncomfortable, especially with how active and loud everything was, from the way the music swung in the air and the way the blaring conversations seemed obnoxious. The noises boomed in his ears, and it only made his heart race.

Embarrassment fills Midoriya's cheeks as he tries to scooch in between table after table, in hopes of reaching to the bar stools. Every ‘excuse me’ is left unheard.

When Midoriya takes his seat by the bar, he finally exhales his held breath, more at ease with the environment. The music didn’t reach as well in this particular spot and no one else really lingered around here. Which meant, it was perfect for Midoriya.

“Well, aren't you a new, pretty face.”

Midoriya turns to meet the bartender, a tall, buff man, with a sultry red gaze, which did no good to Midoriya’s heart. His breath heavily smelled like tonic and smoke and his grumbling voice screamed slum raised.

“Um, greetings.” Midoriya mumbles politely, bowing albeit.

“Hey, good lookin’.” The bartender smirks, “S’rare to see someone I haven’t met, before.”

“Not many people come here?”

“Quite the contrary,” the blonde brawn admits, heaving a loud huff. “It’s just tonight’s boss night, which means sole business. And, it's easy to spot and kick out the new rats like you ‘round here.”

Forcing himself not to grimace, Midoriya offers a weak smile. “Sorry about that. Didn't mean to disturb the place.”

“Nah, I ain't bothered.” The bartender chuckles, “If anyone would be distressed by a new customer, it'd be the last one on that list.”

"Um, you sure are rather kind, mister."

He leans over the counter, harshly whispering close to Midoriya's ear. “Be thankful, I’m in a good fuckin’ mood welcomin' strangers, tonight.”

A shiver creeps up his spine from the sudden closeness. Leaning away from the stench of smoke and hard liquor, Midoriya quickly nods in affirmation. “Yeah, isn't that a blessing. Uh, could I get whiskey, by any chance? That would be nice.” he rambles out, in hopes for a bit of space.

As the bartender moves away, back turned to his stash of drinks, Midoriya lets out a sigh of relief.

Once the bartender faces back around, with two glasses of whiskey in hand, Midoriya blinks. “I- Um, I only wanted one.”

A shake of the head, the guy snickers. He offers one over to Midoriya. “One’s for me, idiot. Unless you're in a mood to forget.”

“Ah, right..” Midoriya reaches for the outreached glass. Their fingers graze each other’s, sending a jolt shamelessly through Midoriya.

Scanning through the bar, Midoriya notices the entire bar was wearing formal wear; tuxedos, suits, ties, coats. They were all dressed to the nines, puffing out big cigars, and downing bottles with ease.

“What’s a boss night?” Midoriya inquiries.

Surprisingly, the bartender narrows his red eyes into a glare. “That’s weasel talk.”

Whatever that meant, Midoriya can only assume it was an insult. “I-I’m not a weasel!” He squawks.

That eases the tension off the man’s face. And instead, a toothy grin appears. “Then, don’t say that shit ‘round here. Or else, I’d have to blow your head.”

Midoriya’s mind thinks of the worst, and the feeling of burning cheeks erupt his face. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that. Things that can easily be misconstrued.”

“What if I want my shit misconstrued?” The bartender snickers, “Hell, what if I want to miscon-screw you?”

“Y-You don’t even know my name, mister.” Midoriya stutters.

“Yeah, you’re definitely a new rat.” Finally, lifting the whiskey glass to his lips, the smile still stretches. “We don’t give names here. That shit is confidential.”

“O-Oh. Well, then, um, just call me Izuku.” Midoriya mumbles, “It’s my alias.”

It’s his real name. But, the bartender obviously doesn’t know that.

The man’s gaze squints. “What the hell? Deku?”

Midoriya blanches. “No, I said-”

“Just call me Katsu, and we won’t have any problems, Deku.”

Midoriya purses his lips. “Okay, well, I have a problem. And, if I’m paying 2,000 yen for a drink, I politely suggest you say my name right.”

Regardless, Katsu shrugs, with a shining glint in his eyes. “I’ve killed people for less.”

And, just like that, he downs his whiskey in one gulp.

Tentatively, with a sudden chill beating his heart faster, Midoriya sips his drink.

He has to go. He shouldn’t be here. Why did this man joke about death? Killing another person? No, it had to be a joke. A tease. The man has been teasing him the moment he sat down. It just had to be a small jab. That’s all.

Yet, the thought still rattled his mind.

Midoriya coughs, “Um, is that a company policy?”

Katsu hums, tilting his head. “What is?”

“Names. Is it like for, I don’t know, feeling like we’re secret agents? Is that the vibe this bar is trying to give?”

That makes the bartender laugh loud and smack a hard hand on the counter, causing the entire place to look at the two. When they notice the guffawing is from the bar, more specifically the bartender, they all simply turn away. Back to their normal conversations.

While Midoriya’s feeling winded from the sudden attention, the man breathes out an airy chuckle. “It’s a ‘for-life’ policy. Say your name, and you’re a fucking goner.”

Katsu leans in close, eying the side of Midoriya's face, "And, with a cute face like yours, it'd be a fuckin' shame to see it ruined."

Midoriya is strucken with an overload of goosebumps. Whatever this place is, he most definitely doesn’t belong here.

[targaryenimagines]

SFW Alphabet: Viserys Targaryen

(Important Note: This isn't a nice happy SFW Alphabet. There is mentions of abuse and neglect in this, which follows Viserys character type. I just wanted to warn you all before you continue.)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Viserys isn’t the most affectionate person, and the only time he ever truly shows affection is when he is trying to claim you. He doesn’t much care if you’re alone in a room, but the moment someone shows interest in you (even if its harmless) he’s by your side in an instant. His arms wrapping around your waist in a tight embrace. His features set into a smirk you are all too familiar with. Sometimes you wish the person would just stay and save you, but no one ever does. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

This would entirely depend on if Robert’s Rebellion happened or not. 

If it didn’t then Viserys would be the most supportive and caring friend you could ever ask for. Yes, he may have quite a temper but it was never directed at you. More often than not it would be because some was being cruel to you and being disrespectful. An event that wouldn’t be that uncommon since you were a simple servant within the castle. The young prince taking a liking to you and becoming your unlikely protector from all the other servants. And while it did cause you to be ostracized you wouldn’t change anything. Viserys was your best friend and nothing would ever change that.

Now if the Rebellion did happen then everything would change. You would watch as bit by bit Viserys lost himself. His eyes growing dimmer and dimmer the more he lost, and there was nothing you could do but stand by him. Trying to support him in any way that you could, but even then that wasn’t enough. Soon your job was protecting Daenerys from his wraith. His fury turning on you with all the fire of a dragon, and there was nothing you could but take it. Trying to remember the sweet, charming boy that had protected you oh so long ago. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Viserys hates to cuddle but he does like to make sure that you’re near him. While you’re not in his arms, he does have one arm stretched out to make sure that you are there. He doesn’t want you to leave him when he isn’t aware of it. Apart of you wishes that it was because he still loved you, but you know that it was because he didn’t want anyone else to have you. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Viserys doesn’t see the point of learning to cook or clean. He has servants that listen to his every wish, and he also has you if he has no one else. It’s a fact that he relishes greatly and never wants to live without. His joy only growing more when he fantasizes about what it would be like when he sat on the Iron Throne. 

As for whether or not he wants to settle down? You hope that you aren’t alive long enough to become his spouse. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Viserys would be cold and uncaring as he stares at you. His violet eyes shining in the dim light of the room but, unlike yours that were shining with tears, his were shining with the sort of vindictiveness you had come to expect from him. It was a sight that caused your heart to twist in your chest, and if you were being honest you weren’t even crying because you were losing him. You were crying because now Daenerys would be alone with him, and that’s something you couldn’t handle. The sweet young girl had done nothing wrong in her life, and she did not deserve what Viserys was doing to her. But, you could do nothing as Viserys had his men throw you out on the street. Your body slamming into the ground causing a pained grunt to escape your lips, and before you can let one more cry leave your lips the doors slam closed behind him. A sight that caused a new wave of tears to escape your eyes.

You had failed Daenerys in every way possible. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

The moment he takes the crown he would want to marry. To finally show everyone that you were his in every possible way. Even though your skin crawls at the thought of being tied to him for the rest of your life. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Viserys is about as gentle as a hungry dragon. If he sees something he doesn’t like he will tell you without care of your feelings. He wants you to look your best so you don’t embarrass him, and would even make you change however many times he wanted until he deemed you appropriate. As for whether or not he’s gentle physically? He doesn’t say “Don’t wake the dragon” for no reason.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Viserys appreciates hugs when they’re on his terms, and they’re probably not the type of hugs most are used to. Especially when it involves someone's significant other. Viserys isn’t a warm hugger nor is he affectionate when he hugs. His arms are tight but they don’t make you feel safe and protected. The hold makes you feel like an object that must be protected at all costs. His arms are like iron bars made flesh, trapping you within their embrace. No escape in sight and filled with warmth… no heat would be the better word. Because there is nothing warm about Viserys. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

You were the one that said “I love you” first, unsurprisingly, and Viserys did react in his own way. Not the way you had wanted, but any reaction from him that’s not filled with anger and malice is a good one. Though he uses the love you have clearly shown to him against you. Maybe not in obvious ways but he definitely tries to manipulate you into doing things for him. (He takes him awhile to say it back… not that you were expecting him to.)

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

A jealous Viserys is something that you try to stay away from as much as you can. If Viserys is normally in a bad mood then him becoming jealous is absolutely apocalyptic. Sadly it does happen quite often when anyone shows you interest, even when all you want to do is talk to them. His rage glowing as brightly as the sun of the Red Waste and just as scalding. He makes sure the person he has deemed as his adversary knows that you’re his, and later in the night he makes sure that you know too. (Not that you can forget the careful planning of outfits to hide the bruises.)

He also gets upset if you spend too much time with Daenerys, which is a whole other story. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Viserys kisses with the intent to claim and nothing more. He hasn’t kissed you with any real emotion in a long time. Gone were the long and loving caress of his lips against yours. His lips were now demanding against your lips, as if he thought he had the right to them. Though your lips aren’t his favorite place to kiss you… that would be your neck. It’s the best vantage point for everyone to see the marks he leaves behind. 

Viserys likes to be kissed on the lips and his cheek, but he’s feeling petty he will only allow you to kiss his hands. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Viserys should never be around children. EVER. He can barely take care of Daenerys as it is, you would never trust him around any other child. Even if it was your own. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Viserys usually is gone before you wake because he has important things to do. He has his future conquest to plan and people to order around. You would be lying if it didn’t fill you with relief that you were left alone. Even if it was for such a short amount of time each day. It gave you the chance to cry without anyone overhearing. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

You normally do what Viserys wants you to do. If Viserys wishes to have sex then that is what you do. If he wishes for a quiet night than that is what he gets. You have learned your lesson when it comes to that. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Viserys only reveals things about himself when it’s of benefit to him. The only time he ever gave anything openly to you was back in Westeros and in the earlier days of Essos. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Don’t wake the dragon, is a phrase you hear with a common occurrence. Either being directed at you or Daenerys, and having the same results in the end. 

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

If it’s not important to him then he doesn’t remember. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Viserys doesn’t really have a favorite moment in your relationship. Maybe if he was in his right mind he would say back in the earlier days in Essos where you both would talk for hours. But none of that matters now because all he truly needs to be happy is the Iron Throne. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Viserys is very protective, but not in a warm and fuzzy type of way. He’s very controlling and when he gets protective you’re not allowed out of his sight for even a moment. More often than not you would be locked in your shared bed chambers with barely anything to do. His sense of protecting you is very, very skewed. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He asks the servants to get you something from the market or to make you a meal that he thinks is your favorite. But at least he remembered… right?

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Anger. Viserys is known for his awful temper and it’s something that you’ve always been terrified of. The fear you have for not only yourself but Daenerys, and any of the servants that even look at him when he’s in that mood, is all consuming. After one of his fits you’re not surprised to see the bruises that mark your skin because of it. Purple is one of the only constants in your life. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Viserys cares more about his looks than he does you. He’s the future King of Westeros so he has to look his best at all times. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

The long answer? Viserys would feel like something was missing with you gone, but not be affected by it at all. Nor would he care all that much for very long. Deep inside of himself, however, a small piece of him that hasn’t withered away yet cries out for all that he’s lost.

The short answer? No.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Hopefully Viserys would one day realize what he has done to you, and try to make up for it. Getting down onto his knees and begging for your forgiveness.

Or before he dies he begs for you, not Daenerys, and you simply watch as the gold comes down. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Disloyalty. Viserys wants someone that is completely loyal to him in every single way. Maybe even stupidly loyal to be honest. 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Viserys is a heavy sleeper because he doesn’t stir at all during the night. His breathing remaining even and calm throughout. It’s either that or he just ignores you as you cry yourself to sleep every night. 

[danisnotonjackfics]

I Got Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

Dan lays there, post-coitus and gleaming with sweat, barely able to catch his breath. It’s he and Jack’s anniversary--another year passed and more than anything, he’s happy. For a moment, as he lays there waiting for Jack to come back with a rag and two glasses of water, he considers how insane it is. For the last three years, three, he hasn’t felt alone. Of course this is mostly due to the fact that he hasn’t been alone. He’s had a partner in crime, a soulmate.

​

But it’s deeper than that. Jack knows exactly how to pick up on Dan’s low mood the moment it dips. He knows Dan’s favorite brand of dark chocolate, his favorite anime. He makes him feel seen and validated. It’s the most loved he’s ever felt in his life.

​

So when Jack comes back into the room, struggling to juggle the various items in his hands, Dan doesn’t laugh like he normally would. And right on cue, Jack notices--even in the dim light of their bedroom.

​

“What’s up?” he asks, carefully leaning down to place one of the glasses down on the table and using his newly free hand to grab the rag that’s nestled under his opposite arm.

​

“Do you remember when we met?” Dan responds.

Jack tosses the rag at him. “Mhm.”

“Tell me.”

Jack climbs into bed and turns to face him. “What,” he laughs, “You don’t remember? Was the sex that good?”

“No,” Dan whines. “I just want to hear your version.”

Jack is silent for a moment, and Dan thinks he may have actually drifted off. It wouldn’t be the first time he passed out minutes after they finished. But then he chuckles, so quiet that if the TV in the room where a decibel higher in volume, he might’ve missed it. Then the screen brightens, illuminating Jack’s amused face.

“What?” Dan asks.

“Nothing. It’s just, you were so nervous.”

Dan throws the rag at him. “Hey! I was not!”

“Yes you were” Jack says. “I had just walked into the therapist’s office. It was my second appointment.” He reaches over and begins absentmindedly tracing circles on Dan’s shoulder.

“You were sitting in one of the chairs reading some tabloid magazine. I sat down next to you and you just kept reading the same page over and over again.”

“I was not” Dan mumbles.

“Were too.”

“Maybe I was just really interested.”

“It was a soap opera tabloid. You watch soap operas?”

“Whatever” Dan grumbles. “I didn’t know you were keeping tabs on me.”

“What can I say,” Jack smiles, “You were cute.”

Dan wants to argue, he really does. But a stupid blush has crept across his face and he can’t risk bringing attention to it. So he lets Jack continue.

“I was nervous too though,” Jack admits. “Here I was, about to go in for my second therapy session ever and as if I wasn’t nervous enough to spill my heart out to some woman I’d only known for a week. And here’s this--” he turns to Dan, cupping his face in his hand-- “Devishly handsome guy right next to me, and he looks so disheveled it’s adorable.”

Now there’s absolutely no way Dan can hide the wave of absolute giddiness that washes over him. In his defense, he’s not usually like this. But something about the way Jack is showering him in adoration right now has him unsure of which way is up.

“You got called in for your appointment,” he continues. “I got called in shortly after to see my therapist. I probably went on about absolute nonsense because the entire time, all I could think about was you. I just hoped your appointment would run a few minutes long or something so I could catch you before you left.”

“And it didn’t,” Dan remembers. “He was trying to tell me that I had to be more open with other people and was encouraging me to go to this yoga class. I got so defensive that I got up and left halfway through my session.”

“Mhm,” Jack hums.

“I completely changed therapists. I started going to someone in an entirely different part of the city. And then she suggested yoga to me too on the very first session. I guess I kind of just gave in.”

​“Thank god you did,” Jack smiles and presses a kiss to his cheek.

***

Dan tiptoes into the yoga studio, closing the door as quietly as he can behind him. Unfortunately, it still makes a “thud” as the door hits the frame and he cringes, head hanging low as he shuffles into the large open room.

There’s already about 10 people there, all sitting quietly on their mats. The class hasn’t technically started yet. He has about three more minutes. But most of the attendees seem to be pretty zenned out already. He wonders if he got the right class.

He frantically fishes his phone out of his jacket pocket and double checks the event pass he downloaded. Yep, a beginner’s class. He’s relieved for a moment but then his anxiety returns as quickly as it went. If it’s a beginners class, why does everyone here look so experienced?

He pushes the negative thoughts to the back of his head for the time being and finds an empty spot at the back of the studio to lay down his mat. There’s one person to his right, a guy in his early to mid twenties, his hair tied up in a man bun. He looks far too calm and too attractive to be taking the same yoga class as Dan. He had hoped everyone here would also have been referred by their therapists. That’s looking not to be the case.

Dan clumsily rolls out his mat, plopping himself down on it just as the instructor emerges from seemingly nowhere. She’s so ginger with her steps that she looks like she’s walking on air, and her voice reminds him of what fairies always sound like in movies. He thinks that maybe yoga is not for him. But then, he remembers that his therapist told him he can’t give up on things the moment he feels uncomfortable. He has to push through his discomfort. Curse his therapist’s good advice.

The class isn’t awful, but some of these “beginner” poses feel like they should require two hours of stretching beforehand. And then there’s the guy next to him, who he’s discovered looks pretty even when he sweats, and he does every pose flawlessly. It’s like his body is made from some beautiful, shiny rubber.

And he swears he hears him giggle at him when he can’t get himself into lotus pose. This is it, he’s going to break both of his legs and he’ll never be able to get himself into a pair of skinny jeans again.

But then something miraculous happens. The class ends and as he struggles to re-roll his mat, someone taps him on the shoulder.

He turns around only to find him, his smile far too beautiful to be real, and the helpful hand he’s extending decked out in oversized rings that make him want to let out a desperate little cry. (He hasn’t been laid in far too long and he has a thing for hands, okay?)

“Let me help” he says, and kneels down, effortlessly rolling up the mat tightly and securing it in its velcro strap.

“Thanks” Dan mumbles, unable to look him in the eye.

“No problem, mate.” the guy says. “I’m Jack, by the way.”

Dan finally looks up at him, meeting his kind gaze.

“I’m Dan.”

“Well Dan,” Jack says, “Do you want to go grab a bite to eat? I’m starving.”

***

Dan learns over lunch with Jack at some upscale vegan sushi place he’s never been to in Soho that Jack started going to yoga because he was told it would be a good opportunity for him to make some new friends. And just as Dan is about to tell him he has a hard time believing that Jack has trouble making friends, Jack asks him why he started going.

“Clearly not because you wanted to show off your flexibility,” he teases.

Dan rolls his eyes. “If you must know, it’s because my therapist also told me I should go.” He recalls his therapist told him he should try being more open, but something tells him that was the wrong thing to say.

“I guess we have more in common than we thought,” Jack says.

“What?” Dan asks.

“My therapist is the one who told me I should go too.”

And just like that, Dan feels a little less alone.

“Can I ask you something?” Dan mutters, before he can talk himself out of it.

“Sure.”

“Were you laughing at me because I looked stupid?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Jack deadpans. Then he cracks a smile. “But it was really endearing.”

“Endearing?” Dan questions.

“Is that okay?” Jack asks.

Just then, Dan realizes that this cute guy hasn’t just asked him to lunch because he pities him or even because he wants to be his friend, he likes him. How can this be real?

Unable to string words together, he just nods and Jack laughs.

But then Dan feels like he shouldn’t leave Jack hanging. Maybe it’s the yoga or maybe it’s the fact that an insanely hot guy has actually taken interest in him. Whatever the reason, he suddenly has courage.

“You’re really endearing too, you know.”

Jack’s smile disappears, his eyes suddenly a lot darker than Dan recalls them being. He reaches under the table and places a hand gently on Dan’s knee. When Dan’s mouth falls the slightest bit agape, he slides the hand farther up his thigh.

“I know it’s the middle of the day,” Jack smirks, “But do you want to come back to my place?”

***

“Maybe” Dan starts, his head now on Jack’s chest, his fingers gently caressing his cheek, “Our therapists were married and they decided to set us up.”

“Set us up?” Jack laughs.

“Yeah,” Dan says. “They both had these pathetic patients who cried in their sessions about not being able to find love and feeling lonely and depressed and they though, ‘We need to help these guys.’”

“Are you calling me pathetic?” Jack sits up suddenly, half-appalled, but still laughing.

“You came onto me in a beginner’s yoga class that you were clearly too advanced for.”

“And you couldn’t roll up your yoga mat” Jack retaliates.

Instead of arguing, Dan flips over so that he’s straddling him, his still bare cock brushing against Jack’s. He watches as his boyfriend’s breath hitches and chuckles at him. He can’t believe he was ever nervous around this dork.

Despite it being undeniable that he still has his low days, days he doesn’t want to get out of bed and instead would rather lay under the covers and wallow in his own sadness, something has changed in these past three years. He has someone who will let him do so, but be there waiting for him with a greasy pizza and an episode of Game of Thrones ready to go when he’s feeling up for it. And when Jack is feeling down, he’ll do the same for him (except with an acai bowl and a nature documentary).

He thinks as he looks down at his perfect boyfriend, who’s checking him out like it’s the first time they made love, that this is what it’s like to be truly, indescribably happy.

[masterturner]

long drawn out personal post

this is a bit stream of consciousness, so if you’re reading this and trying to make sense of it, im sorry. its okay if youd rather not. its a lot and its emotional labour to even read it probably. it’s been almost a year since the breakup now. every day closer to the anniversary of it, i feel a little more broken. i’ve had two suicide attempts since then, a prolonged IOP thing, and i no longer see a therapist (though i really should start again). im not crying about borderline personality disorder though. this is all breakup shit. still.  im still holding together somehow. i dont really know how, some days. ive gone through the whole cycle of grieving multiple times now, cycling again and again through denial and bargaining and all that, ‘til i reach acceptance and think the hurricane is at its end. then i find i’m just in the eye of the storm, and it’ll soon pass as i get caught up in the winds again. then i do the whole cycle over and over again. thats what the therapists in the IOP said it was. a grieving process. you can grieve the terminus of a relationship the same way you grieve a dead person. it sounds so silly when i make that comparison. they also said that progress and healing are nonlinear and that it’s not really necessarily going to be as simple as passing through the grieving process a single time.  i said it sounds silly. its not silly though. its real, and i have to remind myself of that from time to time. i dont usually talk about anything personal on here, and its a little weird that im doing it now. but i guess im doing it because i dont know where else to do it. i could do it on facebook, but it feels attention-grabby, needy in a way i always feel weird being. doing it here under a little ‘read more’ thing feels less obtrusive and private, but not so private that im completely trapped in my own skull again. i hate feeling trapped in my own skull.  the anxiety bubbled up and got bad again pretty constantly. it got that way tonight. i felt my heart race while i tried to sleep. usually the worst points stemmed from me looking my ex up and seeing how their life was progressing along without me. unlike me, my ex has a drive and interest in the performance of social media that i generally lack. my social media experience begins and ends in shallow ways: i look at cute butts on tumblr, reblog dumb memes and get vague impressions of things going on in the world and such through the sometimes nonsensical things other people reblog. thats about it. my ex, though, shes the kind of person that does things like update her facebook profile picture at least once in a 6 month period, unlike yours truly.  i dont even follow her or have her friended anymore on facebook. heaven forbid i had an instagram to see what kind of stuff was going on there. it always got the worst when i saw her with her new SO. now i get to look at that every time i get the nerve to message her. its literally painful to even look to the extent i have to archive or delete every stray line of text we send to one another afterward.  i was seriously in denial - i talked myself into believing the SO wasnt an obstacle, wasnt a big deal, he was just a rebound and it didnt invalidate me. it didnt make me lesser, and it didnt mean that i was being replaced. after all, what stranger can replace 5 years of memories and experiences together? but i was a rebound too, and that led to a deep and intense relationship. why couldnt it this time too?  i was naive, i think. hopeful and naive, and i really wanted to believe this and that. ‘i know her’ i’d tell myself. ‘i know her, and i know she wouldn’t think this’ or ‘she wouldn’t do this’. but it’s wishful thinking.  maybe a part of me always did know better. maybe i stopped listening to that part of my own psyche because i started to recognize how harmful it was.  it’s kind of messed up how that works though? like... you can be happy with someone, but also be terrified of that day when they realize they can do better. and then it becomes a sort of twisted, fucked-up self-fulfilling prophecy because that thought sucks the life and passion out of you. it’s insidious and slow.  and it’s tempting to look at it like ‘i was right all along, everyone will leave me’, but that’s not really how it necessarily is. thats just the trauma talking, the fear, the part of my mind that’s lazy and resigned to suffering and collapse. it was that fear that made it real. maybe if i’d learned to manage that fear, though, things could have been different. would have been different.  it’s pointless to speculate on that though. the reason i say it isnt to speculate though, it’s because im trying to remind myself that it can apply to right now. the friendships and relationships i have now - few and far between as they may be, stretched thin as they may be, damaged and in dire need of repair as they may be - aren’t doomed to failure just because i’m afraid of loss and abandonment. the collapse doesnt have to be inevitable.  maybe talking like i’ve learned and figured something out from all this will make me feel better. maybe believing it all had a purpose will make it feel like it was worth it. eventually. right now, though, it doesnt.  i’m still so upset. i’m still miserable and i still long for things i can’t have. i miss affection. i miss being touched, even in a plain and nonsexual way. i miss being kissed and i miss being hugged. i miss being wanted, and every day i wonder if ill ever feel that again. and then i get to thinking, would it be enough to feel that from just anyone again? why do i feel so starved for... any kind of affection at all? why do i feel so desperate for something - anything like this? could anyone ever love me the way my ex did? i guess the cynical and plain answer to that is no, but thats okay. and maybe someone else can love me better. and maybe that desperate longing to be loved, cherished, cared about, touched, anything is just a symptom of an addiction that’s yet to pass. kind of a cold and clinical way to put it though, and i dont know if thats really me. yet i dont want someone else because its not enough to just have anyone. my ex left me, and now i still have that feeling of being invalidated, devalued, abandoned, and ultimately replaced. even if someone else came along and professed undying love for me, no matter how i welcomed it, that feeling of being tossed aside would remain. and i dont know how to come back from it.  i hate how much my mind... fixates on it. like... everything makes me think of it. i cant make a status on facebook without wondering if my ex will see it, what she might think. i cant leave my house and go somewhere without wondering, what if my ex sees me? what would she think of what im doing? would she approve, or be proud of me? would it impress her? or would it disappoint her? it saps the joy out of almost everything i do. i cant watch an old show without feeling bad im watching it without her. i cant help but wonder if she feels the same, or if shes gotten over it. and a part of me doesnt want to know the answer to that wonder. does she still listen to mili? coheed? does she listen to ‘old flames’ on repeat like i do? when ‘sweater weather’ comes on, does she think of me or someone else?  even now as i write this, i wonder if my ex still stops to peer at my dumb blog from time to time for a hint of how im doing and what im thinking. and i dont even know if id want to know, because seeing this message in that light casts a pall over it that makes me feel sick. i didnt want my ex to see how not okay i am. i didnt want her to see the part of me that feels so sick still. and i dont want to know that she doesn’t look at this either. so here i am at an impasse, writing words and tossing them into the void of the internet, hoping for and expecting only silence, while also hating and fearing the very same. id like to think that maybe this is a sign i dont care anymore, but i think i know better than to really believe that.  i force myself every day to just... not reach out. not say anything to her thats real or vulnerable - the few times ive talked to her it feels forced and fake. and it feels like ive cut off a limb, because im so used to leaning and relying on her. but i feel like i have to, because expecting that level of emotional labour from someone that has cut those ties with me seems silly and foolish... not to mention selfish.  why? maybe a part of me thinks that by hiding it, i’d win her back someday. or maybe im just afraid of being burdensome and difficult. or maybe i just... genuinely do want her to be happy without me. i wish it was that last one. i wish i could just back off and be happy that shes with someone else that maybe will treat her good in a way that i couldnt, or didnt.  i dont know what i want, though. i know what i dont want though. i know i hate feeling like this and i wish i could make it stop, but i cant. its not really getting easier. i had the borderline shit before this, and i could end up meeting the criteria my whole life for all i know. the breakup is just a massive complication in that whole mess, but i dont know if id even know what was wrong with me if i didnt have that relationship in the first place.  there was a day a few days ago, or maybe a week or two ago (i dont remember) where i wanted to hurt myself (not physically though for whatever reason), and in order to do it, i made myself do something i was starting to break the habit of doing. i browsed her facebook profile and scoured it for anything that’d make it sting again. i succeeded - it didnt take much. a few pictures, a relationship status change, that was pretty much it. my mind filled in the blanks after that because of course it did. it snowballed into full blown catastrophizing. they’re probably madly in love. they’re probably moving in together, if they havent’ already done so. they’re probably making plans to get married. they’re probably this and that and this and that - like it matters. like it affects me somehow.  but it doesnt. not really, not physically anyway. i dont have to look, and its like i hope not looking will make it hurt less. but not looking makes me hope, and hope has bred more hurt than anything else in the past year.  since i last looked her up in that fog of need to hurt myself emotionally, a lot of that dreadful hope i had that i could win her back drained away, and i want to believe that the pain will go away now. i havent talked to her since then. i still think about her. i still dream. i still fear and i still wonder and reflect. but i havent talked to her. is that good? is it bad? is it anything other than what it is? does it matter? maybe someday ill be over this. a part of me yearns for that. and a part of me is afraid to ever let go, because what if love wins in the end and all the time we had together meant something after all?  did it not mean anything if it didnt end up taking the shape i wanted it to take? no, it still meant something, but does that matter now?  i dont know. all i know is that to this day it hurts and... that’s all. thats all i know.  eleven months later and it still hurts. but i guess expecting it to be all better after 5 years of dating is a little unrealistic. i thought we were gonna be together forever. forever is a long time, though, i guess.  she makes it look easy, but maybe it isnt for her either, even if she’s better at making it look a certain way. i have no way of knowing and thats maddening in its own way. if i had the ability to close that distance... hear her out, be there for her, could i do it? could i get over my own fear and hurt to build a connection again? id love to find out. but i cant seem to get that far.  it doesnt matter though. its her life, and she has every right to move on without me. its easy to say ‘poor me’, but theres two sides to every story. a lot of pain that led up to the end. questions i still have that will never go answered, and closure i might not ever obtain.  ctrl+a, delete, backspace. that’s all it’ll take, tyler. then maybe you can sleep.  but no, instead you’re going to post this. for what? why? is it a cry for help? complaining for the sake of complaining?  i dont know. i cant leave it all in my own head though.  but the silence that i get back in response is liable to be deafening all the same  

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Happy anniversary @childofdustandashes my angel. Sorry this is kind of shitty but I love you lots xxxxx

The first time, it didn’t really feel like anything special.

Alex was the first one in the office, as usual, already deeply and hopelessly lost in the swamp of paper that covered his desk and even a little of Aaron’s, in a state of organised chaos which was, again, all as expected. Philip had wanted to look just as busy as his Pops and seeing as his Mama had foiled his attempt to leave the apartment wearing one of Alex’s ties like a kind of long, thin scarf, he’d had to settle for arranging his colourings on the floor in a miniature version of the desk above him- the puddle to Alex’s ocean. He was also trying to imitate the furrowed, intense set of his father’s face, stealing glances up at him to make sure he was getting it exactly right, jutting his tongue out of the side of his mouth and scrunching up his heart shaped little face as he doodled mindlessly.

He’d almost got it exactly perfect when something much more important came to occupy his attention.

Aaron’s arrival was preceded by the sound of eagerly scampering feet, making Philip turn and beam so wide in anticipation, it was like his whole face lit up from the inside, from somewhere in his brown eyes. He was ready as little Theo came bursting into the office, already on his wobbly, Bambi legs ready to meet her in the middle as his best friend flew into his arms. They only just managed to keep their feet, though it was a close thing that they didn’t go tumbling over each other like two little beetles, the two of them giggling madly.

Alex and Aaron’s greeting was much more subdued, a nod as Aaron sank into his chair across the joined desks and a tired, raspy grunt in reply before Alex took another swallow of his black coffee and slunk back into his lair of legal documents. But still, neither of them could lie and say the cramped, start-up office didn’t feel a little bit brighter with the sound of their children laughing and greeting each other with excited toddler babbling and hands patting hair eagerly.

Theo never said an awful lot, she was a little girl who only spoke when she saw a real need. But apparently, she did now, as her friend took her hand and excitedly pulled her over to behold his drawings, most of which were just indecipherable scribbles but Theo cooed proudly over them all the same.

She grinned, resting her head on his shoulder, her cloud of black, corkscrew curls tickling his nose, “My Pip.”

Philip blinked rapidly, pride flooding his expression. He didn’t seem like he knew quiet what to say in response to that, he just blushed as red as the strawberries he’d wheedled out of his Pops for breakfast rather than anything healthier or more appropriate, grinning and grabbing at his mop of hair as he gurgled, “My Theo!”

That set them off immediately, going back and forth loudly in between raucous laughter.

“My Pip!”

“My Theo!”

“My Pip!”

Alex and Aaron shared a bemused look across the desk, a smile even as they listened to the happy chattering of their little ones. A very rare smile between two law partners who just about managed to tolerate each other. Finally, something unusual in that otherwise perfectly normal day.

 ***

 No one really decides what becomes a thing between two people, it just kind of happens. And besides, Philip and Theo were never really a pair that made an awful lot of sense; how their friendship even happened in the first place was a mystery to most, never mind their little quirks, their way of saying hello, their little exchange to comfort each other their thing. They would cry it across the street as they met up on the way to school, Theo waiting under her usual lamp post, rocking on her sneaker-clad heels and nodding her head to the music pouring in from her headphones until she saw Alexander’s battered truck, still clinging to life, turn the corner and Pip’s head stick out of the window, grinning.

Theo would say her half in a hopeful, placating voice, after she’d just elbowed Philip in his prominent and abominably ticklish ribs to keep him from swiping a power up in the game they were playing so she could take it for herself. Philip would scowl and press his lips firmly together, folding his arms and scowling and shaking his head until Theo was promising him the world, pledging him the coveted position of Player One until the end of time and he was giggling in spite of himself, shoving her away so she couldn’t see him grinning. And then he’d gasp out his half in between gales of reluctant laughter, as Theo took on the boss single handed and won.

They would murmur it in each other’s ears as they hugged each other close whenever they said goodbye or just whenever they knew the other needed to hear it, when they needed reminding that they were here and had someone to hold them and keep them and recognise them.

Not everyone got it, the tall, freckled giraffe of a kid whose wild mass of hair scraped the top of most doorframes and the short, fierce, curved girl with eyes that could turn flinty as her father’s if she wanted them to.

But some things just stick despite everything. And for years after their first meeting in their daddies’ law office, Philip and Theo stuck.

 ***

 There was a time in Theo’s life where she was more glad than she could ever have words for that she had something to keep her stuck on Earth.

 The only word she could think to accurately describe it was that she felt pinned. Like a poor butterfly, caught and stuck through, pinned to a board until her colours faded and she could only shrivel up and try to hide from the searing sun, to preserve what little of her she could.

Theo buried deeper under the blankets, trying to lose herself in the scent of someone else. The sheets smelled like Philip, of the cologne he’d started using recently, the scent of his hair, of a home that wasn’t cold and convulsing after having the heart of it ripped out. So, she pulled the blankets further over her head when she felt Philip enter the room, tip toeing as best someone like him could tip toe.

He was going to try again, the third time in as many hours. Her best friend was nothing if not persistent.

“Hey Theo…” he somehow injected a passable note of cheeriness into his voice, like this wasn’t his third attempt at dragging her out of bed even as the sun was sinking below the horizon, heavy and swollen, infected looking, feeling like Theo’s heart as it sank into the depths of her chest.

She could only summon up a low grunt, everything seemed to be too much effort.

The bed dipped as he hopped up on the edge of it, where her legs didn’t reach but his did, “My pops made asopao if you’re interested…”

“No thank you,” Theo murmured, her voice such a flat, toneless imitation of her usual musical voice, it broke Philip’s heart.

“Aw come on,” he tried to smile, “He made it extra spicy, your favourite!”

“Not hungry right now, Pip,” Theo whispers, sounding so much further away than she really was. He could reach out and touch her but he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he did, his comforting hand would just pass right through.

No. No, he wasn’t going to let the most important person in his life fade away like that. This was Theo. His Theo.

Pip swallowed hard, trying and failing to shift the lump in his throat, it was still evident in his voice, the one he’d been trying so hard to hide behind his thin mask of cheerfulness until now.

But now he had no choice left but to beg.

“Theo, listen, I…” he stared down at his hands, “I’m scared.”

He got no response from the pile of blankets but he just had to pray that she was listening.

“I’m scared I’m going to lose you,” Philip admitted, his voice thin, “And…I know that might sound kind of selfish but I…I know you must feel like you have nothing left to k-keep you here? But I need you, Theo. I really do, please don’t think that if you just…just gave up that no one would miss you. Cos I would. Of course I would. You’re my Theo.”

His voice snapped somewhere in the middle of it all and there were tears dripping from the end of his prominent nose onto his hands, clasped so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. The silence that stretched out between the two of them was thick and dizzying until it was broken mercifully by the sound of bed springs.

Theo sat up, her exhausted muscles protesting, the need to hide away screaming in panic, running around her head in terror, but still she pushed through. She was suddenly so aware of how ghastly she must look, eyes red, hair wild, face blotchy. And yet Philip beamed at her with such pride and relief, like she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, throwing his arms around her gratefully.

“My Pip,” Theo murmured against his chest, her voice raspy and tired but she clung to him in turn with every scrap of strength she had.

She was so far from being better, her grief was so far from healed.

But she had a reason to try and get there now.

Her Pip.

 ***

 Theo would have more bad days, more days when she’d feel that weight pressing down on her, like gravity was increasing on her alone and leaving everyone untouched, like she was simply being pressed out of the equation, out of existence, like the world was just sick of dealing with her.

But she would always have her Pip. She’d have his warm eyes like two drops of amber, the first thing she usually saw in the morning, gazing at her from above as her flushed, panting boyfriend would come back from his run and wake her up from sleep with a kiss to the forehead and a coffee and a croissant. She’d have his hands roving over her when he would interrupt her as she dressed- for class, then work, maybe a few parties or fundraisers thrown in along the way- coming up behind her and squeezing the softness of her stomach and hips, the rolls where her body curved that he adored and somehow managed to make her adore too. She’d have his lips, his tongue, his body, when he’d lay her out and make her feel so loved and do it so gladly. She had his words, those gorgeous, wonderful, beautiful words he just pulled out of thin air and gave to her, worth more to her than any gem or jewel or metal, even the simple gold wedding band he gave her before long. Because they represented his support, his belief in her to replace what she’d never been able to conjure up for herself, that was what kept Theo going.

Because there had to be something to it right? Someone as brilliant and smart and loving and just so positive had chosen someone like her, he’d stuck with her for as long as either of them could remember and he’d claimed her as his own. He’d chosen her as his Theo and himself as her Pip.

And if he’d done that then there simply had to be something in herself that was worth his love.

These were all the gifts Philip gave Theo, on her good days and on her bad days, to keep her going, gave them freely and without hesitation. Theo would worry sometimes that she wasn’t reciprocating, in spite of how much Philip assured her that she did just as much for him, every single day.

Until she found something she could give him.

 ***

 “Ow!!”

Pip yelped, sitting up suddenly, his notebook clattering to the floor, hand flying to the back of his head.

Theo opened one eye lazily, she’d been contentedly dozing for most of the sunny Saturday afternoon, “Huh?”

Philip’s voice was incredulous as he whirled around and cried, “They just kicked me in the back of the head!”

Theo couldn’t quite stifle the little giggle that rose up in her chest in time, as her hand moved to stroke her vast belly, “Well, you shouldn’t have been leaning on them, then?”

Pip stuck his tongue out at her, pressing his lips to the swell in her dress, “I expect an apology.”

“I don’t think you’re going to get one, babe,” Theo arched one eyebrow, her other hand moving to stroke his curls.

“Well…” he frowned, shrugging sourly, “I expect one in…four weeks. When they get here.”

Theo snorted with gently laughter, shaking her head fondly at her husband as her long fingers massaged through his close crop of dark curls, threatening to spill over right down his back.

Four weeks. It sounded like no time at all and yet, it felt like an eternity. An eternity until they’d meet the two little souls that were currently only represented by slight nudges and kicks and wriggles and what Philip and Theo could dream for themselves.

She had a feeling it was going to be brilliant. And it had been so, so long since she’d been able to say that about her future, say it with such certainty.

“Hey, Philip?” she murmured, blinking quickly. Tears had been coming frequently recently, never with much warning. She’d grown used to it.

“Hmm?” her husband turned from where he was still rubbing the back of his head even though it hadn’t really been that hard of a kick.

“I love you,” Theo whispered, pulling him close, her voice suddenly thick.

If he was surprised by her sudden flood of emotion, he didn’t show it. He just laughed softly and hugged her right back, gladly.

“I love you, Theo. My Theo.”

“My Pip.”