What You Call Love Was Invented By Guys Like Me To Sell Nylons, Don Says In The Very First Episode Of

“What you call love was invented by guys like me to sell nylons,” Don says in the very first episode of the series. Sometimes it seems like he believes that. Don’s version of love is not a great kind of love. It’s petty and nasty, and he can be capricious, withholding, violent, and dishonest. And that’s just if you marry him! Don and Peggy love each other, but they’re not people who are good at giving or accepting love. More important than their love, then, is simply their bond. These are people who are attached, for better or worse, for forever, in a relationship that’s not sexual, not parental, but not quite student-teacher, and not really mentor-mentee anymore. They’re not best friends. They’re not even always co-workers. Parents die, people divorce, they move to California, they die in childbirth, they place their children for adoption, they flee the borough, they change their name, they have anonymous sex. People come and go, even people you’re supposed to love who are supposed to love you. Peggy and Don are people with abandonment issues, and love does not preclude abandonment.Togetherness does. And Peggy and Don? Boy are they together. (x)

Mike Delfino is how you write a damaged guy right. They never excused his shitty actions and he was always forced to pay the consequences.  He was a better husband and man to Susan, a devoted dad to MJ. He had a hero complex, but it was endearing.

Can more characters be written like him? Please?

Trigger Point

Happy holidays @fuckitimfangirling​ from @goldscribbles​! This is an unconventional take on the soulmate trope. I’ve never thought about this idea before, so I found myself with a lot of questions and tried to work through them in this piece. I’m not sure if this is what you were looking for, but I did my best and hopefully you like it!

Kai steps out of the dim room into the hallway squinting at the light, his body loose and pleasantly aching from the massage.

“How are you feeling?” a soft voice asks.

He looks at his massage therapist, a short young woman with dark hair, who is holding a glass of water in her hand. Something is off with his vision. He rubs his eyes, but the slight blurriness still lingers.

The woman smiles, extending the glass to him. “Take your time. It can be hard adjusting to the light.”

“Thanks.” He takes the offered water from her, their fingers barely grazing, and color explodes across his retinas.

“Mr. Parker? Mr. Parker!”

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‘I love you, always have, always will’

It’s so beautiful, the hell we both made for each other but it’s all love and war, louder we roar, crying for more