#now he's

[meowww-ffxiv]

Long, long ago, in the times of antiquity where they were about six months into their mutual acquaintances, Mordred had looked Theodore dead in the eye after one night too many fooling around with men who robbed him blind by daylight, and asked, "Don't you think that you're addicted to sleeping around 'cos you're lonely? No? Maybe you crave physical contact? D'you not think that maybe a hug or three can fix you better than whatever you got from those one-night-stands?"

"A hug or three will not fix me, Mordred. I don't even know what is wrong with me," Theodore had replied. "And it is not an addiction. It was a mutual agreement to spend some time making others happy for a night."

"Okay," Mordred had answered. He'd gotten more physical with him after that -- a tug on his sleeve here and there, handing Theodore mugs of coffee or tea in the morning and allowing their hands to brush, ruffling Theodore's hair, cutting his hair for him, helping him shave when their mirror was (once again) broken. He'd bumped their heads together the way cats liked to do, his dark hair velvet-soft under Theodore's hands. He'd let Theodore mess with his ears, demanded he spoil him by brushing his tail...

The aching cavern of loneliness in Theodore's chest that did, in fact, often lead him to the bottom of a beer mug and then into some passable-looking man's straw pallet did shrink after a few months. It drove Theodore mad that Mordred was right. It made him feel something between rage, exasperation, and a terrifying amount of love that he cared enough to try.

"You fixed me," Theodore admitted to him at some point after these times of antiquities had passed and they had gotten to know each other too well. "How did you even know to?"

"I did not fix you," Mordred replied. Then he pouted and rattled a bag of candied almonds in front of Theodore. "I can't open this."

Theodore sighed. Nuts of most kinds made Mordred cough, though none as vicious as whatever that date was from Ala Mhigo that he'd nonetheless bought in an excess quantity because Alphinaud and Alisaie liked them. He opened the bag for the cat anyway, poured the treats into the polished bronze dish Mordred had placed on the table between them, then got up to get a pitcher of water and two goblets.

The other Scions in the vicinity watched him with amusement that Theodore ignored. Was it not the norm by now, that he dogged Mordred's footsteps, that he let himself be pulled and led about, complaints aplenty but never quite unwilling, to the nine hells and the seven heavens and back again?

Mordred was already coughing by the time he got back. Theodore poured him water, did not bother do it for himself yet, and watched in fond exasperation as Mordred downed the drink in one gulp.

"Are you feeling better?" the cat asked, after a moment of companionable silence. He squinted at Theodore, not quite smiling but ears perked, head tilted.

"I was never otherwise."

"You said the same when we first met," Mordred replied. His ears flicked down. He stared into the now-empty silver goblet, eyes trained at the bottom. "You said you'd lost your standing with the Wailers and would soon have to vacate the barracks, and that you had nowhere to go at that moment. I asked if you were alright and you said, so airily, 'I was never otherwise.'"

Theodore's memory was agonizingly excellent, but even he had not remembered the context so clearly. When Mordred found him -- that was the truth; he found him, they didn't exactly meet -- he had been...somewhere. It was a haze of menial tasks Theodore barely had the energy to complete, the sun's light dull on his skin, the nights too cold, every brief flash of clarity and happiness confined to a bed, a stranger's body against his, gone by morning. Theodore had feared wine, feared what would show if he was inebriated, and stayed away from the sweet seduction of alcohol.

...Upon reflection, it wasn't like he was able to cut out other kinds of addictions, was he. Mordred was right to call it that, and Theodore could not find it in himself to hate him for it.

But everyone after Calamity had been like that. Most of them. Those who didn't have obligations they needed to stay sober for. Theodore, without family, creed nor cause, had borrowed the two latter. When it had not been enough, he had turned elsewhere to keep the worst of the void in his heart at bay. It had reassured him to continue until...well.

"I'm fine now," Theodore said, because otherwise Mordred would start brooding for real. "All thanks to your excellent ministrations."

"I did not fix you," Mordred repeated. They were close enough that when their eyes met Theodore knew he could see his face clearly. Mordred's voice was low and his expression was soft, in the way it almost never was, and absolutely never was to anyone else except Theodore and perhaps a certain miqo'te with red hair and red eyes.

Mordred said to him, "I wanted to give you a chance to be alright again."

"You should not discredit your own role in my," Theodore cleared his throat, embarrassed, acutely aware that although they were alone they were seated in public with strangers' ears not far away. Why must Mordred say the sappiest most undoing things so easily, anywhere? "Thank you. I am happy we are friends."

"You shouldn't discredit yourself in the strides you've made," Mordred countered. He put the goblet he had been clutching back on the table, and watched as Theodore refilled it without being asked. Fondness bled from him, from his smile and his gleaming eyes, his flicking tail. "That hunched-over lancer I saw lounging on that bench in Gridania six years ago, talking so blithely about his life having just fallen apart, would've never faced the despair and lived. But here you are."

Theodore's mouth felt dry. The hundred thousand words he'd read of all kinds of prose, all kinds of poetry -- he could not muster even a one in response.

He said, "Here I am."

Mordred picked up the goblet again. He looked at it for a moment, then poured half of it into the other, until-now-untouched goblet, and pushed it at Theodore. He would've questioned him for the strange action, but then realized he was still clutching the pitcher.

"You're so weird," Mordred huffed. Unlike Theodore, he was not at all embarrassed about sappiness. Theodore would always envy him for this. "Always saying the rawest stuff in public, and using all the time we have in private to yell at me."

The indignation jolted Theodore out of his stupor. "I never yelled at you," he retorted. Then remembered that yes, in fact, he had just shouted at him a few hours ago, but that was because Mordred was also shouting. "It was-- a mutual disagreement. I was raising my voice to be heard."

"I've always heard everything you said," Mordred replied sulkily. "But I ain't doing it."

"It is just one portrait, Mordred. Just the one. Everyone had theirs done except for you. Would you not even do it on Count Edmont's request?"

And just like that they were back on it. The endless bickering, their shared familiarity laid bare as Mordred shook his little fist in Theodore's face and said things like I hate sitting around doing nothing; I can't even twiddle my thumbs or the painter'd yell at me! and Theodore thought to himself, yes, you did mend me. You poured gold into the cracks until I am changed but made whole.

But out loud he said, You sat for hours watching the aetheryte crystal spins and you can't do it for a portrait? Excuses, excuses.

[mamatater]

The spouse is getting curious about tumblr

[time-woods]

Accessorize ! Accessorize ! Accessorize !

based off of how my dad got his ears pierced))

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[jackyjackdraws]

Local scientist enters the Olympics without any equipment nor protections

Gets a silver medal

Refuses to elaborate further

Leaves

[qrowpilled]

hate when you find a character whose so infuriatingly Your Type that its embarrassing like yeahg no one is gonna be surprised when i announce this is my new Guy Of The Month

[ducktracy]

sharing a very sage bit of advice from The Simpsons' own John Swartzwelder that i've been trying to hamper down in my writing and drawing alike. let your inner crappy little elf do his worst

[synthient]

X

[beaft]

a small child came into the café today and asked to buy a chocolate truffle. he tapped a credit card on the reader and it did not go through, mainly because it was not a credit card but in fact a junior cinema pass. i gently explained he couldn't use that to buy things in shops and he looked so gutted that i was like "...but just this once you can have it for free, don't tell my boss though" he said thank you and walked out with his truffle and as he went i heard him chuckling to himself and saying "yes..... yes!!!!!" like the sickos comic

[mo-mode]

“But what does Grover bring to the table? He’s just the comedy relief character.” Grover is juggling the role of babysitter, mediator, and emotional manipulator and he cracks jokes too? Give him a BREAK

[krispytm]

You can only reblog this today or until the next Monday, June 19th, 2028.

[beebfreeb]

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

historical drama/sitcom where two gay best friends (woman and man) get lavender married--and proceed to spend the Fancy European Honeymoon their parents paid for acting as each other's wingman

[junkartie]

The creator of squid game spending years trying to get his point across that exploiting the poor and desperate for entertainment is bad watching netflix make a spin off of his fictional series where they in fact exploit the poor for entertainment

[kiryuing]

[veramitar]

Young overlords ready to paint the neighborhood red.

Minimaniacs Artboard 1 | 2