#also i always feel the need to clarify that I am so new at this and I know there's plenty of stuff I still need to learn

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent

[cleolinda]

I am not the first person to attempt explaining this, but let me tell you about some of the nuances of Bless Your Heart™. It does not solely or even usually translate to “you are a dumbass.” It is more subtle than that:

It is primarily a thing you say to clarify (or falsify) the tone of what you DID say

OR

it is secondarily a thing you say instead of something ELSE to maintain 1) plausible deniability 2) a moral high ground.

“Bless your heart”: You genuinely deserve blessings because you are going through it right now and you need them. Gratitude, sympathy. “I’m going to have surgery next week.” “Bless your heart! Is there anything I can do for you?” (“Oh, bless your heart for asking.”) Original face-value meaning.

“Bless your heart”: You need a blessing because God knows you’re lacking (manners, intelligence, common sense) right now. Synonyms could include “Well, isn’t that precious” or “Well, that’s different.” It often comes in clutch when you don’t want to tell someone to their face that they fucked up. Your nephew has mowed the front yard for you. He has also mowed over all your flower beds. “Well… bless your heart.” If you were going to use it as a stealth insult to someone’s face for a more egregious occasion, it would be this category. It can be a mean girl move (the classic “It’s so brave that you dress like that” vibe), but it’s also a way of saying, “I want you to know that I see what you’re doing and I don’t approve of it, and you fully understand I’m expressing that, but I’m not going to give you the justification to clap back at me because I didn’t SAY that.” Someone wears a fancy white bridal-looking gown to your cousin’s wedding: “Well, bless your heart, that sure is a dress!” (If they understand you: “What’s THAT supposed to mean?” Because they know, but they want to make you SAY it. Combat engaged.)

“Bless their heart”: I am sharing news (gossiping) about someone but I like them and I want you to understand that I do, truly, bless their heart. “It’s been so hard for her after her father passed. Bless her heart, I’m gonna make her that red velvet cake she likes.”

“Bless their heart”: I am shit talking someone and I want to cover my ass, of COURSE I am just concerned for them. “She wore white to her sister’s wedding last week! WHITE! Bless her heart, I guess some people’s children just don’t know better.” (“Well you know they say she was always after the groom—“ “NO! Bless her heart.”)

That last one is the BYH they would need to deploy (but didn’t) in the Make Some Noise clip, but I feel like it honestly wasn’t necessary because the “prayer request” already served as a cover for talking shit. It probably would have come out if they’d been allowed to keep the skit going and they needed plausible deniability for spilling juicier details that maybe Jesus didn’t actually need to hear about. Thank you for coming to my Performing Southernness While Being Neurodivergent talk.

[lost-romantique]

Avoidance vs. Vulnerability

I love how so much of Blitzø’s character development is rooted in his body language.

Lets examine:

"IT WAS NOT A BREAKUP! You need a relationship for one of those and we never had that... and we never will."

Blitz, after yelling at Millie's face clarifying to her that it wasn't a Breakup, only to immediately turn his head the other direction because he doesn't want to see her face.

This is Blitz being avoidant and trying his damndest to keep up that facade he always puts on.

Despite the fact, that his voice breaks when he says the words "... and we never will," Blitz is making sure Millie does not see his face. Showing to us the audience that Blitz still has his walls up around Millie.

Millie makes a joke to Blitz about "trying to not be our third anymore," fully expecting Blitz to make his usual spastic joke, deflecting the situation as he always does...

But the thing is, Blitz doesn't make a joke to avoid the question, he simply states very seriously, "No, not anymore."

Millie is confused and shocked, almost with a sad expression on her face. Millie has never seen Blitz act so seriously before and it shows.

However, with the complete obliteration of his walls caused by the trauma he suffered by Rolando, Blitz now feels comfortable enough to let Millie see the real him.

Millie states the elephant in the room, "The bird got you that bad, huh?"

Or in other words...

Wow, you really have feelings for this guy...

And Blitz simply states the words, "I guess." Showing to us, in the most simple, bare bones way that yeah, he does have feelings for him.

I love how Blitz looks straight at the camera when asked this question, he doesn't make an effort to look at Millie and he still averts his eyes the other direction showing to us how uncomfortable he is with being vulnerable.

But the biggest thing Blitz does in his body language is the fact that he doesn't try to purposely hide his face away from Millie, he just dejectingly looks off into the distance, because even though he's accepted and acknowledged his feelings for Stolas, he's still aware of the fucks up he made in Apology Tour.

Millie makes one last good-natured joke towards Blitz to lighten the mood, and Blitz simply averts his gaze Millie's direction with a grateful smile, almost giving her thanks for not dwelling on the conversation for too long.

(Stolas I get it, I am also down bad for this man. JFC if you don't want him, can I please have him?)

Blitz with relaxed eyes, simply plays into her joke, "Well you know, your husband is still a little fuckable."

I love how Blitz doesn't fully play into Millie's joke, he makes sure to add that little there to NOT downplay his feelings for Stolas.

Ghostfuckers is my new favorite episode of Helluva Boss, and one of the reasons why has to be the amazing character development Blitz and Millie went through this season.

[creantzy]

Defying God - a parallel between Fyolai and Stavrovensky

The Demons brainrot is taking over, and you know what happens when I acquire a new interest: my brain WILL find a way to connect it to my other interests, whether I like it or not!! And this is essentially what it's about xD I've come here to present a parallel I found between Fyolai (Fyodor & Nikolai from BSD) and Stavrovensky (Verkhovensky & Stavrogin from "Demons" by Dostoevsky). Before I start I want to clarify a few things:

• I don't think these two pairings are similar, I just love picking up any crumbs of connections I can find between my interests, even if it'd count as reaching.

• This interpretation (in either character's case) is in no way "the only true way of looking at it". It's merely one interpretation out of many and I chose to focus on just a few aspects out of the many others there are to explore in these complex characters. 

• Feel free to add onto or disagree with anything I say! I'm interested in your thoughts :D

WARNING: There will be spoilers for Bungou Stray Dogs and Demons.

The reason Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor is because he feels affection for him. Emotions are a prison to him, and he basically seeks the opposite of what his emotions make him want to do. Thus, in the face of affection, which makes you want to be closer and wish the best for your friend, he does the opposite and decides to kill said friend, going directly against his feelings in an attempt to prove free will. But here I want to focus more on the "You want to defy God in order to lose sight of yourself" part, specifically the bit about God.

One part of my interpretation is that Nikolai associates God with control. If there is a God who controls all, how can there be a free will? He wants to go against Him and His creations (the human mind, morality, etc.) to prove that it's possible. But God is very abstract - the idea of God is influential but varies depending on cultures, etc. For this point, I'll use the example of the biblical God, or, more specifically, some attributes commonly assigned to the idea of God:

• omnipotence (all-powerful)

• omnipresence (all-present)

• omniscience (all-knowing)

What I am leading up to is the fact that these traits can, in one way or another, be applied to Fyodor. Fyodor's character represents everything Nikolai wants to defy. Nikolai hates control; he wants to fight the idea of God and prove the possibility of complete independence. Fyodor (though not in a "direct" way) could be seen as a symbol for God. He knows everything, he is always present (metaphorically and sometimes literally, the way he spawns sometimes I swear-), and he seems to control everything. Only few people actually see him, but he pulls the strings behind the scenes, and his power is felt everywhere. For Nikolai, to kill Fyodor is not just a protest against his feelings of affection, but can also be a symbolic act of defying "God", of killing "God", by killing Fyodor.

This is supposed to be very symbolic and not taken literally. I feel the need to repeat this because I personally dislike the notion of Fyodor as a literal God (and disagree with the idea of him having a God-complex), so this is merely about the God-like traits he possesses, like a "substitute" for the idea of God, and how it interacts with Nikolai's philosophy. (I've also exaggerated some points for the sake of simplification - for example, I don't actually believe Fyodor is in control of absolutely everything, etc.)

Moving onto Demons:

Pyotr Verkhovensky grew up religious and (assuming based on Stepan's description) with a fear of God.

Now he's an atheist and very anti-religious. He plans to overthrow society, and destroying religion + everything it preaches is part of that plan. But interestingly enough, he picks not himself as the official future "ruler", but someone else: Nikolai Stavrogin. He chooses Stavrogin to be the role of the leader in Verkhovensky's ideal society. But not exactly the "leader" in the traditional sense, because he wouldn't necessarily give Stavrogin all the power. He would simply use him as a "pawn" (for lack of a better word) while himself pulling the strings behind said society. With that, Verkhovensky puts someone else above himself, in a God-like position, but he wants to do it while still keeping full control over Stavrogin. By doing so, he would overcome his childhood fear of God because instead of being controlled by God, *he* will control God.

(Same case here, not the literal God, but the character who he assigns God-like traits to.)

I am undecided (with both Nikolai's and Verkhovensky's character) whether this could be read as a solely subconscious intention or if it would make sense as a conscious one as well. Given that both have a different "main" goal (Nikolai focuses on emotions and Verkhovensky on the revolution) I lean more towards thinking it's subconscious (if present at all - like I said, just interpretations!)

It doesn't help that Verkhovensky describes his vision of Stavrogin's leadership as "hidden": Everyone believes in him and his power, but only very few people are said to actually have laid their eyes upon him. When I first read this part, I was honestly reminded of Big Brother from Orwell's 1984, but eventually realised that similar things can be said about God as well.

While these are parallels, they don't come without differences. Nikolai needs Fyodor dead, Verkhovensky needs Stavrogin alive. Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor for a sense of freedom, Verkhovensky wants to keep Stavrogin for a sense of control. Yet both symbolic goals are bound to fail:

Fyodor turns out to be unkillable, and Stavrogin ends up dead.

At the end, "God" stays untouchable.

[just-aake]

Everlasting Devotion - Part XI

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Warnings: light angst, violence, death

Words: 2513

The three of you navigate the quiet alleyways, shadows stretching across the cobblestones as Redwing glides ahead, scanning the area for Sitwell. 

The tension between you and Natasha lingers in the atmosphere, though you’ve made no effort to address it.

Instead, you keep a deliberate distance from her, your focus locked on the path ahead, and Natasha feels the sting of your cold shoulder intensely.

She knows she mishandled things—should have told you about having Sam and Redwing keep an eye on you—and now she’s left to wrestle with how to make things right.

A quiet sigh escapes her lips.

The sound draws your attention, and for a brief moment, you glance back at her.

Natasha straightens, her heart flickering with hope, but the moment is fleeting. 

Once you see she’s relatively okay, you quickly shift your focus back to your conversation with Sam, effectively shutting her out again. 

“So, how far can Redwing fly?” you ask, tilting your head as you watch the falcon hover effortlessly above.

Sam perks up immediately, his tone turning proud. 

“Oh, he can make it all the way to the Mar-vel Kingdom and back in a day. No problem,” he boasts, clearly delighted to share the falcon’s capabilities.

Your expression softens into genuine interest as you nod, absorbing every detail Sam shares.

Natasha watches you from a step behind, the faintest smile softening her expression despite herself.

She’s always admired the way you connect with others, your genuine curiosity and openness drawing people in. It’s a quality that makes her heart ache even more at the thought of you feeling shunned and ridiculed recently. 

To her, it’s unfathomable how anyone could associate you with Dreykov’s scheming persona.  

Your thoughtful hum pulls Natasha out of her musings.

“And he can find anyone?” you ask.

Sam nods with certainty.

“Greatest tracker I’ve ever worked with.” 

As if to prove his handler’s point, Redwing emits a short chirp and begins circling a spot some distance ahead, drawing all of your attention.

Sam glances back at her with a serious nod.

“Found him,” he states simply, quickening his pace toward the location to scout the area. 

You fall in step beside Natasha, keeping your word to stay close to her, though you maintain your pointed silence.

Natasha bites the inside of her cheek, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. 

With Sam far enough ahead, she seizes the opportunity to address the lingering tension. 

Natasha takes a deep breath, steeling herself as she nudges your shoulder lightly.

“Y/n,” she calls softly, her voice a quiet plea.

You don’t respond, your gaze fixed ahead, and Natasha’s heart sinks. She takes another breath, her words tumbling out earnestly. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins. “I should have told you about Redwing. It’s just…” She hesitates, searching for the right words. “Ross had his men following you, and I knew he wouldn’t stop unless there was some kind of surveillance to replace his.” 

Your eyes narrow slightly at her words, though you still don’t look her way.

Natasha hurries to clarify, her voice faltering.

“Not that you need to be watched,” she says hastily. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. That’s all. I swear.” 

Her voice falters as you continue to remain silent, and she sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair as frustration and regret simmer within her. 

“I really am—” Natasha freezes mid-sentence, her words catching in her throat as she catches the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Her eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Wait a second…” she mutters before letting out an exasperated sigh. “At what point did you forgive me?”  

You finally look at her, a playful glint in your eyes. 

“At the first ‘I’m sorry,’” you admit with a shrug.

Natasha exhales sharply, shaking her head. 

“You were messing with me this whole time?”

“Maybe a little,” you confess with a soft chuckle. “I told you, it’s cute when the charming princess gets flustered.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes, though a faint blush dusts her cheeks. Reaching out, she catches your hand, stopping you and turning you to face her.

“You know,” she mutters, a teasing smirk playing on her lips, “having your queen grovel for forgiveness might be grounds for punishment.” 

Laughing lightly, you step closer, leaning into her body, your voice dropping as you reply in a challenge.

“Then punish me, my queen.”

Natasha’s breath hitches for a fraction of a second, the warmth in your tone and the proximity sending her heart racing.

But before she can respond, you step back with a knowing grin, your eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Natasha mutters under her breath, though the smile tugging at her lips betrays her true feelings.

“And you love it,” you quip before stepping to follow Sam toward Redwing’s signal.

Natasha huffs, shaking her head as she refocuses on the task at hand, though a faint, lingering smile refuses to leave her face.

The alley stretches ahead, cloaked in dim light and deepening shadows as you all silently approach the narrow entrance where muffled voices echo from within. 

The three of you press against the wall, staying hidden. 

Sam raises a finger to his lips, signaling for silence as he leans forward, peeking cautiously around the corner.

“It’s Sitwell,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “And he’s not alone.”

Natasha creeps forward to peer around the corner, her sharp gaze taking in the scene as the lord’s voice becomes clearer. 

“It’s not my fault that Commander Hill took over Rumlow’s operations before I could!” Sitwell’s voice is frantic, a mix of frustration and desperation. “She locked everything down.”

“And what of the weapons?” a second voice asks, calm yet menacing. It’s muffled, belonging to the cloaked and masked figure pinning Sitwell against the wall. 

“I—I don’t know where they are!” Sitwell stammers, his voice trembling.

The figure’s grip tightens as they brandish a knife, the blade gleaming faintly in the low light.

“We had a deal,” the figure hisses, their tone laced with quiet fury. 

Sitwell fumbles frantically, producing a glowing stone similar to the one Natasha had seen before at the tavern. He offers it to the figure, his hand shaking.

“Wait!” he pleads. “I can get you more! Rumlow wasn’t the only one who knew the man who made them—I do, too.”

The figure hesitates, taking the stone and examining it. They motion for Sitwell to continue.

The lord swallows hard, seizing the chance to plead his case.

“Rumlow had a deal with him. He was supposed to deliver secrets about Dreykov and Romanov’s Widow operations in exchange for the weapons,” Sitwell says hurriedly. “But he double-crossed him and used it for himself. Now, only one person can give him what he wants.” 

“Who?” the figure demands.

“Lady Y/n—she’s the one he’ll trade for,” Sitwell blurts out, his voice shaking.

Natasha stiffens, her head snapping toward you. Her expression hardens with a mix of alarm and fury.

Sam clenches his jaw, his focus shifting to her as if awaiting orders. 

Natasha looks between you and the alleyway, her mind racing, before coming to a decision.

She gestures for Sam to take you away.

With an acknowledging nod, Sam starts to nudge you back, but you shove his arm aside when you realize that she intends to stay. 

The masked figure tilts their head, processing Sitwell’s claim, before their attention snaps to the faint movement from your group.

Their gaze locks on Natasha, their body tensing in readiness.

In an instant, they shove Sitwell to the ground and bolts.

“Secure Sitwell!” Natasha commands Sam as she charges forward after the fleeing figure.

Natasha closes the distance quickly, her movements precise as she grabs the figure’s cloak, yanking them back.

The figure stumbles but smoothly pivots on their heel, delivering a swift kick toward Natasha’s head.

Natasha ducks under the attack, but with surprising skill, the figure follows up quick with a sharp kick aimed at her torso. She blocks it at the last second with her arms, but the impact forces her to stumble back. 

You’re immediately at her side, steadying her with firm hands.

“Thanks,” she mutters breathlessly, her eyes never leaving the figure. 

The cloaked individual looks between the two of you cautiously before they suddenly lunge, their knife flashing as they swing at Natasha with calculated precision. 

Natasha pushes you away from her side as she sidesteps each swipe, narrowly dodging the blade.

Grabbing the figure’s wrist mid-swing, Natasha twists sharply, forcing them to drop the weapon with a metallic clatter. She traps their arms in a hold, locking them in place.

“Now!” Natasha shouts to you.

Understanding her unspoken command, you move quickly, delivering a powerful kick to the figure’s side. The impact forces a grunt from them as Natasha releases her hold, letting them stumble back into the wall. 

The glowing stone slips from the figure’s hand, falling to the ground.

The moment it hits the pavement, a loud crack resounds, and an intense, blinding light explodes outward, flooding the alley with a searing brilliance.

“Get down!” Natasha yells, shielding you with her body as the light engulfs the area.

The overwhelming brightness disorients you both, your vision obscured for several long seconds. When the light finally fades, Natasha blinks rapidly, her sight still hazy as she surveys the alley.

But after a quick scan, it’s clear that the mysterious individual is gone.

Natasha curses under her breath when there’s no trace of where they went. Only the faintly glowing, fractured stone remains on the ground, pulsing weakly with light.

“Damn it,” Natasha mutters, frustration evident in her tone.

Your hand comes to rest on her arm, grounding her for a moment.

She turns to you instinctively, her eyes darting over you, scanning for any sign of injury. Her hands come up to cup your face, tilting your head slightly to inspect every angle. 

“I’m fine, Natasha,” you assure her softly, gently pulling her hands from your face and placing them back at her sides. 

The warmth in your touch lingers even as you step back, creating a subtle distance between you. 

Your eyes flick briefly to where Sam stands, your awareness of the others pulling you back into your carefully maintained composure.

The sound of a struggle draws Natasha’s attention to where Sam restrains Sitwell, who thrashes ineffectively in his grip.

“Unhand me!” Sitwell shouts, his voice sharp and panicked.

Natasha stalks over to the squirming lord, her presence looming with command.

“Who was that?” she demands, her voice cold and threatening.

Sitwell recoils at her tone, his earlier bravado crumbling into fear. 

“I don’t know!” he exclaims. “They’re just…some black market arms dealer. Rumlow had a deal with them.”

Natasha’s expression hardens, remembering the way Sitwell targeted you at the council meeting, making you experience all sorts of discomfort as he questioned you. 

“All your talk of loyalty to the kingdom, yet here you are—a traitor.” 

Her words cut like a blade, and Sitwell visibly flinches.

“No, Your Majesty,” he pleads, desperation creeping into his tone. “I was trapped in Rumlow’s deal. When he didn’t fulfill his part, they came for me. I had no choice.”

“That’s a pathetic excuse,” Sam scoffs, tightening his grip on the struggling man.

Natasha steps closer, her icy glare silencing any retort from Sitwell.

“If you want even a chance at leniency, you’ll tell me who Rumlow was working with. Who made these weapons?”

Sitwell hesitates, the weight of her demand pressing down on him.

Finally, he opens his mouth to answer.

But before he can speak, a sharp whistling sound cuts through the air.

An arrow buries itself in Sitwell’s chest. His words die on his lips as his body crumples to the ground.

Natasha’s head snaps upward, her sharp gaze locking onto a shadowy figure perched on a rooftop above. 

The figure’s silhouette is menacing, their face obscured, but Natasha doesn’t miss how their focus shifts directly to you.

“Natasha,” you whisper, your voice tinged with worry as you instinctively grab her arm, tugging her back. 

But Natasha immediately moves to shield you, pushing you behind her protectively.

Her eyes narrow dangerously as she glares up at the figure.

For a moment, they linger, their presence a silent threat, before disappearing into the darkness.

Only once Natasha confirms the area is safe does she drop her hand from your side.

Sam kneels beside Sitwell’s body, his expression grim.

“He’s gone,” he confirms.

Natasha clenches her fists, her frustration mounting.

Sitwell’s death has left more questions than answers, and her mind churns with thoughts of who these mysterious figures could be.

Before she can voice her thoughts, she notices you moving away from her side.

Natasha turns to see you kneeling beside the fractured stone, its faint glow drawing your attention.

The light pulses weakly, almost hypnotically, and your hand hovers inches above it. 

Natasha remembers her earlier experience back at the tavern when her hand had brushed the similar stone on the attacker’s glove—the flashes of the worst moment of her life and the fear that had gripped her mind and heart.

“Y/n, don’t touch that,” Natasha warns, stepping forward and reaching for your arm.

The moment her fingers graze your skin, your reaction is sudden and uncharacteristically harsh.

You swat her hand away with surprising force, startling her.

Natasha pauses and pulls back from you, her eyes widening in shock. 

“Y/n?” she calls again, softer this time, her voice laced with worry as her eyes search your face.

For a brief second, your expression is distant, your eyes unfocused. Then you blink rapidly, as though shaking off a haze, and your gaze shifts to her, confusion flickering across your features.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice tinged with genuine puzzlement at her expression.

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, her sharp eyes scrutinizing you. 

“You pushed me away when I tried to stop you,” she says cautiously.

“I did?” Your brow furrows in surprise, and your gaze darts back to the now-dimming stone. Its glow fades completely, leaving only the cracked surface behind.

Natasha watches you closely as you stare at the stone, your expression unreadable.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken questions.

“Y/n?” Natasha says softly, her hand reaching for your arm again.

This time, you don’t pull away. You turn to face her, your eyes meeting hers.

“You don’t remember?” she presses, her voice gentle but firm. 

You hesitate for a moment, your hands fidgeting nervously in front of you at her words, but then you shake your head lightly and give her a reassuring smile.

“I'm sorry, my body must’ve still been on the edge after everything that just happened,” you reply softly.

Natasha studies you for a moment longer, unease flickering in her chest.

Whatever had just happened, it wasn’t normal like you’re suggesting. And as much as she wants to press further, she holds back, not wanting to push you too hard.

“That’s enough for today. Let’s head back,” she finally says, her tone steady despite the worry lingering in her gaze.

You nod silently in agreement before making your way out of the alley. 

But Natasha lingers in place, turning her attention back to the fractured stone on the ground. Her mind races with the mystery of its power—and the brief, unsettling moment when it seemed like you weren’t entirely yourself.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

a/n: And we're back. 😁 Time for more mysteries, secrets, and challenges for the two. Thank you for your patience and for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff, @mrsrushman, @inarayofmoonlight, @viosblog112, @inarayofmoonlight, @maximoff-jp, @natashasilverfox

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

epilogue

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: pregnancy

series masterlist │my masterlist

every day since you found out you were pregnant, you’ve found logan in what used to be an unused office. it’s the room closest to yours, just across the hall, and where your daughter will stay until she’s old enough to sleep through the night, to be further from logan and yourself. you plan to redo the guest room to her tastes eventually, but first you need to get through the early months with her.

logan refuses to allow her first bedroom to be anything less than perfect, though you’ve told him time and time again that she won’t remember it. you think it might be his way of getting rid of the anxious energy that courses through him, the worry that he won’t be a good enough father, that he’ll hurt her somehow. he’s good at building, at working with his hands. he may not know how to be a father, but he can do this for her.

he goes out to the hardware store and returns with materials for custom shelves and a dresser, never mind the fact that he could go to any furniture store and buy premade sets, already measured and cut, ready to be assembled. he paints the walls a pastel yellow, meticulous and careful. the colour looks strange surrounding him, though not in a negative way, a man who surrounds himself in dark shades standing in a room of bright colours.

your big, tough husband, reduced to putty by his unborn daughter.

you’ve been watching him day after day, your new favourite way to pass the time, enjoying the flex of his muscles as he works. you’re only five months along, there’s plenty of time, but logan acts as though every day that passes without the house being completely ready for the new addition to your family is a travesty of the highest order, a crime against him personally.

you mock him for it, but his dramatics are awfully endearing. he cares so much, occasionally so overcome by feelings that he doesn’t know how to express them. the animal in him comes out more during such moments, when he’s overwhelmed with it.

he’s more protective now, something you’d previously never thought possible, and clingier too. he says your scent is different, says there’s a second scent mixed into your own that must be your daughter’s, the beginnings of her own person manifesting painfully slow and yet much too fast.

you feel her growing and changing inside you, the strangest sensation and yet one that never fails to take your breath away. you spend nights with your hand pressed to your stomach, not convinced that she’s real, worried that your bump might disappear if you let go for a second too long, a dream lost to the winds, merely a reach away and yet impossible to touch.

you watch logan’s large arms move with every stroke of the paintbrush, muscles flexing in his arms and shoulders and back, and without realising it you find yourself at his side, a hand reaching out to trace over the lines of his body. he acknowledges your presence with a kiss to the top of your head but nothing more, refusing to allow his concentration to be broken. it’s a testament to his devotion to his daughter, as he would usually drop anything if it meant getting to hold you in his arms.

“do you think she’ll be like you?” you ask, a thought that’s fluttered through your mind briefly but never stuck around for long, always distracted by something or another.

“you mean a mutant?” logan clarifies, his movements faltering. it’s still not something he adores about himself, not the way you do, though he no longer wakes up every morning drowning in an ocean of self-hatred and despair. it’s become something to accept, a part of him that he cannot change, and therefore something that there is no point in fighting.

there is no reason to ponder on what ifs when it is an impossibility. so with your love and reassurance, he’s found a middle-ground, a peace where he can allow his instincts to be free and yet doesn’t feel confined on the days where he does feel more man than animal.

“yes,” you agree, “i mean a mutant.”

he sighs, a sound that gets caught in his throat, grip tightening around the handle of the paintbrush. your fingertips prod at his hand, poking at his tight grip until he lets go just enough for you to pry it from his hold, placing it down on an old newspaper he’d left on the floor to protect the wood.

“be honest with me,” you say, “i just want the truth.”

it’s a game you play sometimes, a system you’ve created from your deep knowledge of logan’s thought process, to use when logan feels something that he worries isn’t right to say, that he worries you’ll dislike. you’ve had to teach him that his feelings are valid, that there is nothing wrong with them one way or another, that his thoughts are a product of his lifetimes. it doesn’t mean you’ll agree, but you’ll always listen.

“i don’t want her to be like me,” logan admits at last. you’d expected the words, the sentiment, but it still stabs you in the chest, a knife he doesn’t know he’s wielding. “she deserves to be normal, like you. i don’t want her going through anything i have.

“but she’ll have us,” you remind him, “she’ll have you to teach her that it’s okay to exhibit these behaviours, although there’s a time and place for them as there is for all things, that she can be herself and there’s nothing wrong with that. and she’ll have both of us here to make sure no one can try to take her away, to hurt her the way they hurt you.”

he shrugs, doesn’t give you a verbal response, but he holds eye contact with you for what feels like days before eventually nodding once. it’s the best you’re going to get from him now, but you have four more months to talk about it, and perhaps years until you discover if your daughter truly is a mutant - since logan had confided that his mutation had developed in his early childhood, not at birth as some others do.

you kiss him, hopeful that he can read your thoughts and feelings on the curve of your lips, feel the love you hold for him in the way your hands press to his back, wanting him as close to you as possible. 

“i’m going to make us lunch,” you say, glancing outside at the mid-afternoon sun and the pale blue sky free of clouds. you’re already coming up with ways to pull logan away from his work, promises to whisper in his ear, smiling as your hands linger on his body. “i think baby wants to take advantage of the sunny weather.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

[psychemochanight]

This may sound bad, but there's something I've noticed that bothers some of Nightwing fans, and it's not exactly something new (since Jason's first appearance, actually)-

And for many, as a new batfamily member appears, the writers seem to take away or diminish some quality in Dick to enhance it in another character

Let me explain:

One of the reasons why many people initially disliked Jason (not the only reason, by far), is that they saw him as a copy of Dick, even if they both had their differences, many did not feel that Jason had anything "special" that separated him from Dick.

And for those who say the difference is that Jason was cheerful and Dick wasn't, no, that's a modern thing, and that interpretation was given especially because it was the time when Dick was more "angry" as Discowing (he wasn't even that angry, just a little bit more serious); same with those who say that Jason was the only model student, when in fact, Dick was also a star student, there is even a panel where some students dismiss the possibility that he is Robin because Dick was a "bookworm".

That's partly why many applauded the change he made in becoming Red Hood, because it gave the character something that set him apart, that made him unique.

With Tim is when this change that they make to Dick (more the fandom than the writers themselves, but it is growing in them too) was most noticeable, to enhance Tim's qualities.

When talking about Tim (and God knows how much I adore canon Tim, he's so damn cool), people ALWAYS downplay Richard's detective skills to highlight Tim's. To make him look like the only good detective in the family after Batman.

People forget that Dick was originally like a mini-copy of Batman, but he was destined to surpass him. Not just in combat, but in detective skills as well. Before they even thought about a new Robin, there were already hints that Dick was, and would be, better than Batman.

Even with the appearance of other family members, Dick's abilities were still pointed out. I'm not talking about his physical agility, but his mental agility.

Dick was a genius, just like the other members of the family, he was ALWAYS pointed out as someone so intelligent, someone logical. He also has extraordinary skills with technology, He didn't need someone to back him up with hacking issues 24/7, he could do it himself, not always, but most of the time.

Now, what they point out the most is his physical agility and leadership (characteristics that he always had), but they leave aside his other aspects, such as combat ability and above all, his capabilities as a detective, like someone intelligent.

Some even bring up that Ra's called Tim "detective", when in reality he also called Dick that, and I'm pretty sure he also called Jason that at some point.

I want to clarify, that with this I am NOT saying that Tim's skills are inferior, AT ALL. I am one of those who think that Tim was the one who finished polishing Robin's name, the one that gave it a meaning beyond being Batman's sidekick, the one who turned Robin into his own hero. Tim is probably a prodigious detective, but like Dick, he too needed help honing those skills. Damn, it was Dick himself who taught Tim how to be a full-fledged detective.

But seriously, I'm not saying this to put Tim down, but to talk about the need to put Dick down in order to elevate others.

Even with Cass this happened, Cass fans throw away Dick's abilities to bring out Cass's when that is not necessary, like, It is more than possible to highlight the qualities of your favorite characters without putting down the others.

There were even times where people were putting Dick down for Damian, and I honestly didn't even understand why, but aha.

I think you're getting my point across, right?

Again, I am NOT trying to say that ANY character's skills should be nerfed, on the contrary, I feel like people should stop doing that just to level up other characters' abilities.

The fact that Dick is also a prodigious detective does not make Tim any less of a detective ? The fact that he also knows how to handle technology does not make Barbara any less competent at her job ? Just because he's an excellent fighter doesn't make Cass the weakest ???? God, just because he was a light in Batman's life too doesn't make Jason any less of his son!

Partly yes, it was the writers' fault for giving Dick too many abilities from the start, which made it harder for later characters to stand out in their own fields, but, fr, taking away his abilities to getting up the rest is not the solution at this point either.

And as I said, this mostly comes from before there were even other members of the batfamily, Dick's only purpose was to be better than Batman, it wasn't even the plan to be his own person yet. Probably for a while, the plan could even be that the next Batkid would accompany Dick as the next great detective, and then the next batkid would take the mantle and so on, a chain. I'm not saying that's the case, but that's honestly what it seems like from the way their abilities are written, at least before they started really developing them as their own individual person.

Something I love about part of the fandom is that there are people who understand that Dick was an inspiration, so that his younger siblings did not inhibit his abilities, but rather learned from him, and then surpassed him with their owns, just as Dick did with Batman. Idk.

And... Yeah, that's just me complaining about my favorite character being downgraded when he's clearly way more capable than the fandom gives him credit for <3

This is me btw

[minghaoslatina]

WHAT A COINCIDENCE!

pairing: idol!wooyoung x female!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of sex but not really, making out, condoms, pregnancy test, fluff

a/n 💌: the way I said I would post this like last week 😅🔫

now playing 🎧 supernatural by ariana grande

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

You and Wooyoung exchange puzzled looks as you both step into the dance studio. All the members are already there, and they give you both curious glances as you walk in.

"Is everything alright?" you ask, feeling perplexed by their suspicious expressions.

"We should be asking you that," Hongjoong responds with a hint of mystery in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Wooyoung sets down his dance bag and joins the rest of the members. Just as the tension in the room escalates, their backup dancers burst in, ready to learn a new choreography.

"We'll talk about it later," Seonghwa says with a slight smirk.

You shoot Wooyoung a confused look and step aside to observe them dance. Wooyoung always insists on having you there, claiming you're his good luck charm, but you know he just wants to impress you. Nonetheless, you enjoy watching him do what he loves.

As their practice draws to a close, you find yourself feeling a bit uneasy. What did the members need to talk to you and Wooyoung about? Before you can dwell on it further, Wooyoung collapses next to you on the floor and reaches out his arm dramatically as if he's about to faint. You chuckle and reach into your backpack for a water bottle to give him as everyone leaves except Wooyoung and his members.

"My girl is the best," Wooyoung sighs as he sits up to gulp down the water. You can't help but notice a few water droplets trickling down his pretty neck.

"Are you pregnant?" Mingi's sudden question catches both of you off guard, the words hanging in the air like a shocking revelation. Wooyoung's eyes widen, and he starts choking on his water. You quickly stand up and pat him on the back before turning to face the members, your mind reeling with disbelief.

"No! Why would you think that?" you ask in disbelief. The boys exchange glances before looking at Hongjoong, who seems to be hiding something behind his back.

"This fell out of your purse yesterday while you were here..." Wooyoung nearly faints when he sees Hongjoong pull out a pregnancy test. The room falls silent, the tension palpable, as everyone waits for an explanation.

"I can explain," you hastily interject before Wooyoung jumps to conclusions.

"Is that yours? But we've never..." You quickly cover his mouth before he says anything.

"Never what?" Yeosang asks, genuinely confused.

"Had se-" Yunho is quick to cover Mingi's mouth. Yeosang now regrets his life decisions.

Jongho looks at you, puzzled. "Then why do you have a pregnancy test?" he asks.

You took a deep breath before responding, knowing that this was supposed to be a secret. "A female staff member asked me to do her a favor and get her a pregnancy test. She seemed really scared, and I felt bad for her, so I agreed to help. She gave me the money, and I bought it for her. Just to clarify, I am not pregnant, nor do I have any intention of getting pregnant," you explained, hoping to ease the tension. Wooyoung frowned at your words, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and disappointment, but decided to stay silent for the moment. The others nodded slowly as if they were processing your words.

Right on cue, the female staff member walked in nervously, her eyes darting around the room. You discreetly took the pregnancy test from Hongjoong and handed it to her with a polite smile. The members, their curiosity piqued, stay silent out of respect, their eyes staying on the ground.

"Can we go now?" you ask, nodding toward the dance studio door.

"Yes, let's head out," Wooyoung responds, reaching for his black bag in the corner. The rest of the boys also gather their belongings, preparing to shower and unwind for the day.

"Wooyoung, do you have an extra water bottle?" San asks as he notices two spare water bottles in Wooyoung's open bag.

"No, I don't," Wooyoung replies playfully.

"Come on, just one, please," San pleads, tugging at one strap of his open bag while Wooyoung holds onto the other. They engage in a playful tug-of-war over the water bottles. Everything seems to go in slow motion as the bag falls, and a bunch of condoms appear on the floor. You are the first to cover your mouth in surprise. Half the members burst out laughing while the others stood there in shock.

"Liars! You're pregnant," Mingi accuses, pointing toward you and Wooyoung back and forth.

"I swear those are not mine," Wooyoung panics, "Baby, I swear, those are not mine," he says, facing you. You are still in shock with a hand over your mouth. A pregnancy test? Condoms? This looks so wrong.

"Wow, you guys are freaks," San laughs after picking up a condom and reading the size.

"At least they're using protection," Seonghwa shrugs. You are about to explain the misunderstanding before one of the backup dancers walks in.

"Wooyoung, I think I took your bag by accident," the backup dancer explains with a chuckle. He does not seem the least bit bothered that his condoms are on the floor. Wooyoung is quick to exchange the bags and lets out a sigh of relief when he leaves.

"See? I told you they weren't mine," Wooyoung explains, with a look of relief on his face. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you take a moment to let the tension drain away.

"Things keep getting weirder and weirder," Yeosang sighs, his brow furrowed as he exits the dance studio. As the other members follow Yeosang out, it's just you and Wooyoung left in the room.

"Wow, what a crazy coincidence," you say, trying to infuse some humor into the situation as you let out a nervous laugh and a sigh of relief.

"Yeah... who would have thought," Wooyoung says, his brow still slightly furrowed in contemplation.

"Is everything okay?" you ask, with a tinge of worry in your voice. You hope he doesn't think you're being dishonest. The thought of him doubting you is unbearable.

"Can I ask you something?" Wooyoung hesitates before speaking. "Do you not want to have kids?"

"Um, well, not right now," you reply, caught off guard by the sudden turn in the conversation. You'd never really considered it until now. Before meeting Wooyoung, you hadn't pictured yourself having children, but his kind and compassionate nature has made you reconsider everything. Your sweet, sweet Wooyoung. His heart is so big.

"So, you do want kids?" Wooyoung's eyes light up with hope. He's worried about pushing you too hard, but he's relieved to hear your answer.

"Yeah, I think I do. Especially if you're the dad," you say with a shy grin, gently nudging him. He chuckles warmly and takes hold of your hand.

"It would be an honor to be the father of our kids," he says with a genuine smile.

Your heart swells with joy. "Our kids," you say softly.

"Let's head out, pretty," Wooyoung says, planting a soft kiss on your cheek before guiding you out of the room.

As you both drive to his dorm, the two of you excitedly discuss potential baby names, playfully teasing each other along the way. When you arrive at the dorm, the other members are all gathered in front of the TV, engrossed in a soccer game. Wooyoung quickly freshens up and joins them, and you decide to relax and watch Netflix in his room.

An hour later, Wooyoung enters the room and closes the door behind him. He immediately collapses on top of you, causing you to let out a surprised yelp before embracing him.

"I missed you already," Wooyoung whines, squeezing you tightly.

"It's only been an hour," you laugh, feeling grateful for his affection.

"Too long," Wooyoung mumbles, unwilling to let go as he holds you close.

"I can totally picture our future kids being just as affectionate as you," you tease, playfully poking the dot on his lips.

"You think?" Wooyoung giggles, adjusting his position on top of you to catch your gaze.

"Absolutely," you nod and smile up at him. He looks into your eyes for a second before he starts making out with you. You quickly pull away from your compromising position when someone opens the door.

"Mingi, you have terrible timing!" you exclaim as Mingi jokingly yells, "Liars!" before quickly closing the door.

Feeling a little flustered, you seek refuge in Wooyoung's embrace, burying your face in his chest. Wooyoung laughs with you, resting his forehead against yours.

"Should we start making babies now," Wooyoung suggests playfully while wiggling his eyebrows.

"Shut up," you laugh and push him off you (out of love).

You've never felt so happy.

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

[chichiscloset]

Soft Life 101: 3 Steps to Escape Your 9-5 Job If You Don’t Want to Work

Before we start, I want to clarify what I mean by “Not wanting to work.”

It means, that I don’t want to exhaust myself. I want to roll out of bed at 8 am then go to a workout class at 9 am. I want to spend my time as I please while keeping my workload to a minimum.

Working consistently, burns me out. I have no desire to prove my worth through productivity, nor do I have any desire to engage in hustle culture. I’m sure many of us can relate to feeling like the pressure to perform is exhausting. This is likely why, “soft life” is the latest trend on social media and has taken the girlies on Tiktok by storm.

In this new soft life era apparently, no one has a job and everyone is a "sahm" or "sahgf". While I understand the desire to escape the matrix and have a man you can fully depend on. Creating a more balanced and fulfilling life does not have to solely depend on your partner (though it helps!).

At the end of the day we still all want money! So how can we create an abundant life while still having a work-life balance?

Step 1: Be willing to make sacrifices

There is no such thing as something for nothing. Get that out of your head! I know we sometimes want to be saved, but unfortunately, life isn’t always a fairytale. Everything that we desire in life requires us to give up something else.

Do you want a better body? Give up junk food and exercise more. Do you want a better man? Give up your dust! To bring in the new we have to get rid of the old. If you want a soft life you’re going to have to strategize and be willing to give up what is no longer serving you.

Step 2: Find a passion you can monetize

*major key*

As the saying goes, “If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life”. Find something you enjoy doing, then figure out how you, can earn money from it. Are you good at doing hair? Become a hairdresser. Are you the best dressed in your circle? Become a virtual stylist. I promise you, for whatever talent you have there are people willing to pay you for it!

For myself, I love teaching and writing! Blogging is a great way to share my expertise, create passive income, and create the life of my dreams that don’t necessarily depend on me going into a job. Also, you can make money blogging with a relatively small audience.

Check out my blog post "Make Money When your Young, Pretty & Ambitious." For more on this topic.

Step 3: Invest, invest, invest

*Another major key*

We all need money to survive. There’s no way around it! Ideally, we would live a life where money isn’t an issue and if that is your goal you have to start investing ASAP! By investing in assets eventually, those assets will make you money.

For example, invest in stocks like the S&P 500 (which is an index fund that is essentially many companies in one stock). Invest in stocks that will grow over time and make you more money than you bought them for. There are tons of ways to start investing: choose one!

A few types of investments

Real estate

Stocks

Businesses

If living a soft life is a priority to you start today with these steps that will eventually allow you to either fully retire or work minimally. If you don’t, you’ll just be stuck doing something you don’t enjoy or waiting for prince charming to come and save you.

©Chichiscloset 2023

[nahoney22]

Hey :) I Hope this isn’t too late but I have a fic proposal.

Clones should have a lot of scars and propbably some insecurities, considering that to most people they meet they are ‚just clones‘. I was thinking about a female reader worshipping either Hunter’s or Wolffes/Echoes (I love my grumpy men) body. I think it is a cute idea to make them feel appreciated and loved. It can be NSFW or SFW, whatever mood you’re in.

I also have seen the prompts „i'm not scared of anything except losing you“ and  „ I am truly and unconditionally in love with you“ . They don’t have to be included tho

Congrats on 4k followers! You deserve it so much Honey

Byee

4000 Prompt List Celebration

Wolffe X F!Reader

SFW

word count: 937 words

prompts:

“I’m not scared of anything except losing you.”

“I am truly and unconditionally in love with you.”

warnings: Angst and fluff, cuddling, talks of war and scars, light angst, female reader, established relationship, comfort, shirtless Wolffe, Spoilers for the latest episodes (6&7).

authors note: well seeing as we saw Wolffe so recently it’s only fair I pick this request. Sorry for the wait and hope you enjoy anon 🤍

You awaken to the subtle shift of your bed dipping, drawing you from the haze of dreams. A gentle breeze hints at an open balcony, likely your Commander's doing.

You shift, eyes flicking to the chrono on your bedside table that reads the early hours of the morning before rolling onto you right, facing him.

He’s silent, usual. Shirtless, also a common sight, yet his shoulders bear an unusual weight. "Darling," your voice rasps with sleep, "is everything alright?"

He remains silent, a restless energy vibrating through him as his knee bounces with an unspoken tension. As your hand finds its place on the center of his bare back, a calming touch, his movements still, tension melting away.

"I saw Rex today," he finally speaks, the words carrying a weight you hadn't anticipated.

Your eyes widen, and you sit up abruptly. "Rex? I thought he died in a crash!" The unexpected revelation catches you off guard.

When things took a turn for a worse, you were discarded by this new ‘Empire’ yet Wolffe remained. Your relationship was a secret of course and things had been hard for the both of you. You didn’t agree with these new terms and what Wolffe was doing yet he felt obliged to do his duty. To be a good soldier.

Yet, at nights like this where he would sneak into your home when he should be in his own barracks, you always felt the heavy burden of whatever it was weighing on him.

"So did I... but there he was," he sighs, moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his cybernetic eye and scar. "A deserter, harboring a target the Empire seeks."

Your heartbeat quickens, anxiety gripping your thoughts. "You didn't harm him, did you?"

"No," he responds, a low rumble. "I let him go."

In a hushed tone, you respond, "Oh, well that’s a relief,” as you shift onto your knees directly behind him, offering a supportive presence.

Anticipating a bitter retort, you're surprised when he merely sighs, his head bowing as he falls into a contemplative silence.

Observing his stillness, your eyes trace a new wound on his back, joining the collection of scars. "How did this happen?" you inquire softly, your finger gently tracing the red mark destined to become another scar over time.

"Who knows? Falling from a cliff, getting shot by a civilian, crushed by rocks," he grumbles dismissively.

Moving closer, you delicately wrap your arms around his front, resting your cheek against his back. "Are you in pain?" you inquire, concern lacing your words.

He shakes his head, his hands finding yours to convey appreciation for the comfort. Though not one to seek coddling, the weight of the day has left him in need of solace. "No."

In a moment of necessary silence, a sudden wave of insecurity overtakes him. "Does it uh... look bad?" he hesitates, seeking reassurance.

"The wound?" you clarify.

He nods.

"No."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Wolffe," you interject firmly, gently squeezing his hands, "you know I wouldn't lie to you. We've discussed this. I promise it doesn't look bad."

His jaw tightens, a brief struggle visible on his face, but then he relaxes, allowing your words to penetrate. The scar on his face, a constant reminder, had often made him feel exposed and unattractive. Yet, your consistent reassurances that you saw him differently provided a balm for his insecurities.

“Each scar tells a story, a battle won,” you whisper, kissing his new wound as well as the small scars that littered the rest of his back and what you could see, “a battle lost…” He closes his eyes, knowing what scar you were referring to but allows you to continue. “You’re handsome. Nothing will ever change that or how I love you.”

He bites on the inside of his cheek, his face warming up by the softness of your lips against his skin in the moonlight and your sweet words that had him hooked from the start.

"Are you scared?" you suddenly inquire, and he turns his head, prompting you to move back while still maintaining the embrace. "That they'll find out you let the target get away?"

"I'm not scared of anything," he asserts with stern resolve, but a softness overtakes his expression. "Except losing you."

You offer a soft smile, leaning in to press your lips to his cheek. "Sweet, but I'm serious. Are you not concerned?"

His brow furrows, a hint of reluctance coloring his response. "I won't lie and say I'm not apprehensive. Kark, it wouldn't surprise me if they're already looking for me to reprimand. Or worse."

A twist of unease settles in your stomach, his words weighing heavily on your mind. Tears glisten in your eyes, and he realises his misstep. Without hesitation, he shifts to fully face you, reclining on the bed with his back against the headboard, pulling you close to his chest. "Let's not dwell on that. I'm sorry for waking you."

You roll your eyes at his attempt to deflect the gravity of the situation, but decide to take comfort in his presence for now.

As the soft sound of your snores fills the room, he finds solace in your embrace. He strokes your hair tenderly, a soft smile gracing his lips as he watches you succumb to sleep. "Beautiful girl," he murmurs, a sentiment he wouldn't express while you're awake, not one for overt displays of affection.

Before slipping away into the night, he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am truly and unconditionally in love with you."

Masterlist

Prompt List Works

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @mssbridgerton @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @thiswitchloves9904

[81folklore]

older - LECLERC

pairings: charles leclerc x male!singer!reader (fc: luke hemmings)

summary: singer yn ln releases a love song with his boyfriend, and the public are not prepared for who it is about

authors note: this has been on my mind for SO LONG. i honestly dont like how many fics ive been doing on the same people (charles, lando etc) but whenever i go to start a new one on my list for someone else i think of something that i have to do😭 also in this reader is not a part of 5sos but close friends with the 3, wfttwtaf is readers album and older is exclusivly the readers song

authors note 2: i wanted to quickly clarify i am NOT speculating that charles or luke are gay/queer and this is not my intentions. luke obviously sings older and i find it easier to visualise it this way, while the reader in this is male, this could also be read as gn!reader. this is FICTION please do not tkae this as me speculating anything

authors note 3: i didnt really know what i was doing with this so its kind of all over the place and very rushed :/ but then again when arent my smau all over the place?? also can you tell i hate writing comments by the way i just dont😭

masterlist

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, ashtonirwin and 818,937 others

we started this song together back in 2020 and picked it back up at the end of 2022

'Older' was originally a voice memo of a 50’s-style love song that we wrote together, then forgot about. when thinking of concepts for my debut album i stumbled across the memo and fell in love with it all over again, but i put it aside yet again as to me, it deserved more than the album

the song has changed a lot from the original voice memo, but the meaning has stayed the same throughout. despite all the beauty, the ups and downs of a long-term relationship over many years, there’s inevitably going to be the worst moment of your love because one of you is going to lose each other

capturing those feelings in a song was tricky but ultimately we wrote from the heart and i think it shows in the song itself

this has always been a song between us, so having him play on this song was very importnt to me and im glad he said yes

older is now yours

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, calumhood and 1,727,338 others

im very pleased to announce a very special one off show at the Royal Albert Hall in London this November 18th. I will be playing a bunch of tracks from my debut album and may be joined to play some others aswell! Tickets on sale this monday at 10 am BST. Lots of love always, yn x

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yourusername

liked by 5sos, charles_leclerc and 2,719,936 others

thank you for an incredible night at the royal albert hall

looking back at the best night of my life, i need to thank each and every one of you who allowed this dream to come true, i will never be able to thank you guys enough

performing in my dream venue, with my favorite people in the world was something i never thought was possible and yet here i am, writing this still on my high from last night

thank you to my friends; michael, ashton and calum who took the time to come to london and perform their songs with me, thank you for always loving me and agreeing to my crazy ideas

to my team and everyone who worked to make this night as special as it could be, thank you. thank you for making my htoughts a reality and making this night as wonderful as possible

thank you to the staff who worked throughout the show to make sure everyone was safe, well and looked after. you truly do not get as much credit as you deserve and i apreciate the hard work you put in to keep everyone happy

thank you to those who joined me, i wish each and every one of you who wanted to could have been there. thank you for singing along and listening to me pour my heart and soul into my music

thank you for letting me do this x

view comments

user55: not the pcd hitting already☹️

user1: and im supposed to pretend i didnt see yn and 5sos perform os/co??

user89: CHARLES?? YN IS DATING CHARLES??

user91: AND HE CAME ON STAGE?? AND THEY PERFORMED OLDER??

user50: i cant believe i saw this all happen live

user47: THANK YOU TO WHOEVER WAS RUNING THE GRAINY LIVESTREAM I OWE YOU MY LIFE🧎🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

ashtonirwin: thank you for everything yn. youre a real life angel

user16: NO CHARLES MENTION??

user9: BESTIE HE HAS A WHOLE POST

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, michaelclifford and 3,619,273 others

after having time to process this show, I feel so overcome with gratefulness. my music means so much to me and seeing so many people resonate with it in a live space was so special for me.

charlie, my life would literally fall apart without you and this would have never happened without you giving me the confidence to do so, i hold so much love and admiration for you

thank you for joining me on such a special night and performing our song with me, thank you for sticking with me through it all and thank you for allowing me to share this part of my life with you

i sometimes wonder where i would be if i didnt find you, if i wasnt blessed with your love. i try to think about the times before you, before us, but both feel impossible to do after feeling your love

life with you is so special and i promise to always cherish and love you

merci de m'avoir laissé vieillir avec toi, merci de m'avoir laissé t'adorer, merci de m'avoir choisi (thank you for letting me get old with you, thank you for letting me adore you, thank you for choosing me)

yn x

tagged: charles_leclerc

comments on this post have been limited

charles_leclerc: mon ange, je t'aimerai toujours (my angel, I will always love you)

charles_leclerc: je suis tellement privilégiée d'être celle que tu aimes🤍🤍 (I'm so privileged to be the one you love)

yourusername: vieillir avec toi ne semble pas si effrayant🖤🖤 (growing old with you doesn't seem so scary)

[kyokutsu-sama]

Can I request a fic where Gyomeis wife is pregnant with twins? I saw how you wrote Sanemi and I just absolutely loved it. Maybe Gyomei could start off being nervous (he hopes the babies dont inherit his blindness so he’s happy y/n is pregnant but nervous at the same time)

I would just love to see how attentive he would treat her even if he’s blind. Like he’s insanely strong so carrying her or coming behind her to gently lift her tummy to ease the tension in her back and off her bladder wouldn’t be a problem. He’d LOVE touching her belly and holding her. I think he’d do so well with twin boys. 🩷🥹

Hi @totallygyomeiswife !

A/n: This Sanemi fic will always be the one I enjoyed writing the most😍 and I also thought about writing one for Gyomei but I ended up starting other projects and I left that one aside but now that you sent the request I decided to write it.

I would give anything to see a man that size holding his tiny baby in his hands. It would be so cute❤️🥹

The first rays of sunlight entered through the crack between the window and the curtain, waking you up. You slowly sat up in bed and when you looked to the side, all you could see were the sheets unfolded and an empty space. Gyomei had probably gotten up before sunrise to go to a quieter place to say his prayers. A habit you were already used to.

You felt nauseous and unwell, it seemed like you were going to vomit. Something you had been feeling for a long time and it wasn't just when you woke up, it was also with certain smells that made you feel like this. The nausea was starting to intensify and that was when you ran to the bathroom to throw up.

When that episode was over, you got up a little shakily and flushed the toilet. Your eyes faced your own reflection in the mirror as you washed your face and pondered what had just happened.

You didn't want to think that there was something wrong with your health, but something else popped into your mind and you widened your eyes at the thought.

"Could it be?" You wondered. "No, maybe it's not that. I mean..." You closed your eyes and sighed

It was very likely that it could be what you were thinking. It was very likely that you could be pregnant.

You then left the bathroom to get dressed and go to the butterfly mansion to clarify this whole situation.

~~~

You entered the bedroom and saw Gyomei sitting on the balcony. You approached him, and even without seeing, he could feel your presence.

"These footsteps sound exactly like those of my lovely wife, am I right?" He asked with a little smile

"Yes, you are." You smiled, sitting next to him, holding one of his huge hands that covered yours

You remained silent for a while, caressing the calloused skin of his hands, the result of his hard training. You were thoughtful and tense, something he could feel.

"Are you okay, my love?" He asked, looking to the side where you were, as if he could see you there.

"Yes, it's just..." You were going to continue the sentence, but you got a little nervous. "I've had something to tell you for a while, but I'm afraid."

"You can tell me, my dear, I'll always be here to listen to you. There's no need to be afraid."

"Gyomei, I went to talk to Shinobu a few days ago and... and I found out something."

"What? You don't have anything serious, do you?" Gyomei felt tears on the verge of falling down his face

"No, it's nothing like that. Mei, I'm pregnant." You finally spoke and it was then that the tears fell down his face

You looked at him and he was crying, his hand intertwined with yours on your lap as he cried, making you cry too. You thought he was sad about the news, but he soon proved otherwise.

"I didn't know how you would react. I didn't want to tell you because I was scared and anxious." You whimpered with a few sniffles

"My love, I'm just so moved. You're carrying something so precious and so innocent inside your womb, something that belongs to both of us and that I will protect no matter what." He answered, making your heart feel lighter at that moment.

"Oh, my love." You moved to his lap, hugging him just to feel his strong arms around you, giving you the great feeling of protection that you loved to feel

~~~

He decided to talk to the master Ubuyashiki after finding out he was going to be a father so that he could have the opportunity to spend more time with you, not going on as many missions as before. Unless it was an emergency that he really had to be called in for.

The master not only congratulated him but also agreed, which made tears of gratitude fall.

When his hands felt your belly start to grow, he made a point of carrying you everywhere in the house. You only got out of his arms when you sat at the table or when he laid you down.

When you had insecurities about looking heavier, he assured you that you were still perfect and that there was nothing that his strong arms couldn't carry.

"My love, I may be blind but I'm still sure that you're still beautiful." He said and you cried

Those months also made you more sensitive and now he wasn't the only one who cried over everything.

He loved the afternoons you two spent together cuddling and when he could run his hand over your round, soft belly.

"What do you think it is, love?" You asked, placing your hand over his. "A boy or a girl?"

"Maybe a girl with a beautiful, cheerful voice like her mother, or a strong boy like me." He smiled and you wiped his tears with your thumb, caressing his cheeks."I just hope they come out with good health and that they in no way inherit my blindness. I prayed hard that they would have the blessing of being able to see when they were born."

"Everything will be fine, my love. Whatever it is, they will come healthy and with good eyes so that they can see not only me but also the wonderful and loving father that you are." You smiled at him, holding his face with both hands. "I love you." You placed a kiss on his lips and he wrapped you in a tight hug

"Me too, my dear."

~~~

"The master asked that all the hashiras gather in the meeting room tonight. I wanted to stay here with you, but I don't think I can. I'm sorry." Gyomei said, lowering his gaze a little, but you comforted him by holding his hands

"It's okay, baby. I'll be fine, don't worry."

"I know, but even so... It's already night and those creatures are out there. I'm afraid the same thing will happen that happened that night when I lost all those people in the temple."He said

He didn't want to lose his wife and child in the same night. He couldn't bear to live through a night like that again.

"Gyomei, I promise. I'll be fine and no one will hurt me. Do you trust me?"

"Alright, then. I'll go, even if I'm a little nervous, but everything will be fine." He gave an optimistic smile

"Come here, my big boy." You raised your arms, trying to embrace his broad frame that towered over yours. He was as big as his heart. A true gentle giant.

~~~

It had been some time since he had left and you now found yourself sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard while holding the Buddhist rosary he had left with you as a protection. The same rosary he always carried in his hands during prayers in which he asked for protection over you and your womb and also for strength for him so he could protect his family.

You looked at the rosary beads and all you could think about was your husband's face. He prayed each one patiently and full of faith.

A strong contraction appeared and you held your belly with a groan of pain. You thought it had been just another random kick from the baby, but seeing how the pain only intensified, you realized that it was not just another kick, but the birth of your baby.

You began to cry in pain and clutched his rosary tightly, hoping that he would come home soon to help you.

"And that's it for today, my children, the meeting is over." Master Ubuyashiki declared and the hashiras bowed before leaving

Gyomei stood up but the master held his hand, which made him stop and sit down again.

"Oyakata-sama? Is everything okay?" The hashira asked

"I just wanted to wish you good luck with the birth of your children. They are twins." The master said, shocking Gyomei

"How... How did you know?"

"I had a vision a night after you told me. I also scheduled this meeting so I could tell you this. You must take care of Y/n, she needs you. I believe you will be a good father. I trust you, Gyomei Himejima." The master said with a proud smile and the hashira was soon moved

"Thank you, oyakata-sama!" He knelt and bowed in respect. "I will pray for your health."

"Thank you."

When he got home, Gyomei heard screams coming from the bedroom and immediately thought the worst. He followed the sound of the screams of pain and reached the bedroom where you were crying.

"Y/N!? What's going on?" He asked, approaching the bed

"Gyomei... Help me...it's now." Your words came out between sobs and moans of pain, unable to form a plausible sentence, but he soon realized what it was about

"I'm going to take you to the butterfly mansion. Let's go." He carried your body in his arms and left the house

The entire butterfly mansion was shocked when they saw the stone hashira come running in with you in his arms.

It was a difficult time, with a lot of pain, crying, and emotion. Gyomei didn't let go of your hand for a single moment. Bringing two boys into the world caused you a lot of pain and he could feel it in the way you held his hand tightly.

The master was right, they were twin boys and according to Shinobu, both were in good health. He felt great relief in his heart for them, but those tears he was shedding were not only from emotion for the birth of the boys but also from pity for you for having gone through all that.

You slowly turned your head to the side to see your husband crying and holding your hand. He was your greatest support throughout that special moment and his affection and care made you love him even more.

"Honey, it's okay." You spoke softly, without strength, but he raised his head enough for you to bring your fingers to his face and wipe his tears as you always did, even when he cried over small things."I'm a little weak but... I did my best to bring our boys into this world. After all, they were two little boys... they will be strong like their father." You smiled and he smiled back

"Thank you for being so strong during all this time, I will do my best for you and for them." Gyomei said, leaning in and kissing you

His kisses were always slow and very soft, coming with a lot of love and affection.

"I love you." You whispered against his lips

Shinobu entered the room with the newborns in her arms and blush when she saw you two so close.

"Am I interrupting something?" She giggled

"Oh, no, it's okay." You stated, feeling your cheeks turning red

"I just came to give you what's yours. Your cute little boys." She said, handing the boys into your arms

"My beautiful boys." You said, tears of joy fall as you picked up the little ones. "I love you two."

"Y/n, can I hold them?" Gyomei asked

"Of course you can." You handed them to him and he held them as if they were made of glass

That man's hands were strong enough to destroy a demon, but at that moment they felt like velvet, holding something as innocent as a baby.

He cried so much because his blindness couldn't allow him to see their faces, but at the same time, the feeling of having them in his hands made his heart explode with joy.

"I can't see them but I can tell they are two wonderful blessings." He said and you smiled at how tiny they looked in his hands.

"They'll be as proud of you as I am, Gyomei." You said, kissing his forehead where his scar was. "You'll be a good father."

"And you'll be a wonderful mother."

[gorbo-longstocking]

Do Not Blame the Sea | Chapter One

Pairing: Emperor Geta/Reader, Emperor Caracalla/Reader

Summary: Everyday, you woke up and performed the steps necessary to complete your routine. It was monotonous, like clockwork, as you traveled down the tracks laid out for you since birth. With a mind uncontested, you found yourself graduating college before you were legally an adult, and at the behest of your controlling parents, you continued on to medical school, then further on into a surgical residency at a nearby hospital. You had always wanted to help people and this was the best way to do it.

So, why, with everything you had ever wanted at your fingertips, were you so unhappy?

Maybe that was why when you awoke in the past, surrounded by farmland instead of your blankets that you decided to ‘just roll with it’ rather than scream. That was your motto now as you were unceremoniously dropped from your assigned path onto untrodden ground with no hope of going back. So, even when you saved the life of a soldier and were carted off into the heart of the corrupt Roman Empire to be the twin emperor’s new physician, you barely batted an eye.

After all, you would do anything to save your patients.

Tags: Time travel, transmasc reader, no use of y/n, eventual polyamory, no incest, period-typical attitudes, Caracalla doesn’t have syphilis but he has PTSD, mentions of slavery, both historical accuracy and historical inaccuracy, obsessive behavior, eventual smut in later parts, medical inaccuracies,

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Part Two

Authors Note: Hiiiiiii, I’m back at it again, starting another fic. Those freaky gingers have bewitched me, let me tell you. Anyway, some important things to note about this little fanfiction that I feel the need to clarify before we get into the real meat and potatoes.

First and foremost, Geta and Caracalla won’t show up until chapter two. Maybe even chapter three, it depends on how much more set up I write, so if you want to wait ‘till then to read this, you’re welcome to :3

Two, and very important, unlike my other fics where the reader is trans, but referred to with they/them pronouns or neutral language, this main character will be referred to with he/him pronouns and masculine language in the text because, as a plot point, they are assumed to be a cis man. Along with this, they have three descriptions in the text. They have dyed green hair — original hair color shan’t be mentioned — they have top surgery scars, and they have a vagina. I miiiiight make an accidental reference to heights (ex. ‘ooked up at him/looked down at him) but I will try my hardest to not.

While their real name will never be mentioned in text for self-insertion purposes, Geta and Caracalla come up with the nickname ‘Alga’ for them due to their green hair. It means ‘seaweed’ in Latin. It also means ‘something of little worth.’ :) So, that is how they’ll be referred to. Generally. It’s either that or ‘medicus’ or ‘physician’ or ‘you there.’

Third and finally, I am a huge nerd and fan when it comes to the Roman Empire. As a society, they have a bunch of hangups, taboos, and beliefs, mostly around sex, that I find incredibly funny and will pepper in here and there. I will try to make this fic as historically accurate as I possibly can using all the resources I have at my disposal (google, a few academic texts, and my best friend whose studying classical history) but there’s no guarantee I get all of it right. Half the reason I’m using a modern character as the main POV is so they have an excuse not to know things 😭 Also when it comes to conjugation of Latin words, please, PLEASE give me leeway, I haven’t taken a Latin class since high school.

All that said, I hope whoever reads this fic enjoys it, because that is my main goal. Writing is seriously a passion of mine and my favorite part about it is sharing it with people. That means YOU person reading this, I think you’re awesome.

Okay I’m done talking, on with the show!!

Chapter One ///

This dream sucked — because that was what this was, a very bad dream — and, if you had to guess, it was the worst dream you had ever had in your life. Which was saying something. As a surgical resident who did most of their studying in a hospital, you were chronically sleep deprived and had a lot of stressful material to work with. Whatever aid you used to help you get some semblance of rest had a tendency to give you weird dreams. Very, very weird dreams. You had a few recurring ones, like being chased by a sentient pool noodle — whatever that meant — and several where the ghosts of your patients blamed you for their deaths — far more self explanatory than the pool noodle — but none quite like this one.

Out of everything you had ever experienced in your bleak and desolate mindscape, this dream was long and boring. That was its only crime. Along with being terrifyingly vivid, of course, which you didn’t particularly enjoy thinking about. If you were any less logical, you’d almost be convinced this was reality. That you had woken up in a small farming village, close enough to the capital of one of the most infamous ancient empires that you could see it on the horizon. Sometimes, when the sun set, you would stare at the shadow of Rome dancing upon the skyline. It was beautiful, albeit impossible. Sure, the people who surrounded you only spoke Latin, and they didn’t trust you as far as they could throw you, but it wasn’t as if that mattered. Soon, you would awake in your bed, one day closer to your exam and the beginning of the rest of your life.

Why did the thought only fill you with a sinking sense of dread? Being a doctor was everything you had ever worked for. Helping people, saving people, it was your purpose, the very reason you were born with your exceptional mind. It was your destiny, so why did it feel like you were marching to the gallows?

You shook your head to rid yourself of these thoughts. Focus on the present, focus on the dream, it was far easier than the constant ever present march of time. It was why you were so certain that the predicament was a figment of your imagination. Time hated you, constantly pulling on your leash, dragging your forward even as you dug your heels into the muck. It would never, never move backwards. Not for you.

Never for you.

A low groan of despair rumbled in your throat as you tried your best to wash your filthy scrubs in a nearby river. The water wasn’t murky, but it wasn’t clear either. Unsurprising, considering the nearby village used this water for practically everything. They were close enough to the city to have access to aqueducts, carrying waste hopefully further downstream. You were determined not to think about it. Any other denizen of this small settlement would wash their clothes themselves. The village was too small for a fullonica, and you were pretty sure they were mostly meant for the wealthy. That said, you also knew that Romans used urine to wash clothes — thank you to the ancient civilization classes you took for fun — and you’d be damned before you let a random person’s piss touch your scrubs.

Outside of work, at least.

With your pants rolled up to your knees as you waded deeper into the water, you continued to do what you could to clean the few clothes you had on you. Considering you only had a little bottle of soap you stole from a hotel a few months ago, it was easier said than done. You wanted to ration what you had in case this dream went on for much longer. Just because this was a fictional scenario conjured by your stress addled mind didn’t mean you weren't going to go about things logically. You had already been asleep for three days now, who knew how much longer this neverending dream would last? Perhaps forever. The thought of avoiding reality as you waste away in your bed was far more comforting than it should have been.

A loud shout echoed to your right and you fought the urge to shoot a nasty glare at the <i>obviously</i> young soldiers goofing off several yards away. Well, young was a strong word, they were the same age as you. Probably. You couldn’t really tell considering how staunch you were in your decision to not make eye contact. Out of the handful of men playing in the water, they were all naked. It wasn’t that nudity bothered you, you were studying healthcare for Christ’s sake, it was the unfortunate fact that soaking wet, muscular hunks were a particular weakness of yours. You weren’t sure the soldiers would appreciate your ogling, the villagers already avoided you like the plague. Judging by the dirty looks you received from some of the, unfortunately armed and notoriously xenophobic men, they’d heard enough about you to be wary.

You let out another sigh, your scrubbing becoming a tad more vigorous. Soapy bubbles rose to the surface of the water and your face was screwed up in concentration.

This particular Roman century had arrived at the village only a half-day after you did. From what you could pick up from eavesdropping, instead of being sent to North Africa to get a little conquering done, their legion was shipped to Gaul to put an end to some dissent. Once that was over, the officer in charge received orders to head back to Rome so they could be sent to North Africa with the rest of the troops. They had only stopped at the village for a last bit of rest before their next assignment. Or something. You had been noticed, and you had scurried off the second you realized you were caught.

Letting out a small huff, you examined your scrubs and decided that they were as clean as they would get. Once you were back at shore, you wrung out the fabric the best you could before laying them flat on a rock beside the only other outfit you had, aside from the one you were wearing, to dry in the sun. Another bark of laughter drew your eye to the soldiers playing like schoolboys in the river. Weren’t these men hardened warriors of one of the most regimented militaries to exist? Surely, they should be more disciplined. Still, you couldn’t help the small smile that caused your lips to twitch upwards. Even thousands of years in the past, and in your dreams, humans were the same as they had always been.

The sun was warm, hanging overhead like an unripe cherry tomato. You closed your eyes to bask in it a bit more than necessary. Your skin prickled, indicating that there were eyes on you, though you didn’t particularly care. No footsteps approached you and the sound of laughter didn’t stop, so you figured you were safe enough to show your belly. You didn’t realize you had laid down until you felt grass tickle the back of your neck. Perhaps a little nap wouldn’t hurt. A dream within a dream would be rather funny, you thought as you fell into a light doze, lulled by the sound of soldiers playing.

You didn’t know how long you slept for. It was the sound of panic that woke you, sending you upright so fast, your head spun. The first thing you noticed was the merriment had stopped and had given way to an oppressive sense of desperation. You looked in the direction you had been avoiding all day to see a gaggle of soldiers, some clothed, some naked, dragging an unconscious body onto shore. One man was running with his tunic halfway over his head in the direction of the village, yelling for the centurion in charge. You were moving before you could stop yourself.

“Make way! Make way!” Your Latin was shaky, but not the worst in the world. While you were sure your accent was strange, you knew you were at least understandable as some of the men turned to block you from getting any closer. They didn’t look particularly pleased at your arrival, eyeing both your hair and your odd attire with an air of skepticism. You didn’t have time for this. “I am a doctor. A physician. I can help him, we must act fast.”

One of the soldiers raised a singular thick eyebrow. “A physician, you say? You look like no medicus I have ever seen.”

“Does that really matter?!” You shouted, your voice a harsh bark. The longer this went on, the less of a chance you had to save this man. While you were nervous to plow through the wall of stout muscle that blocked you from your prospective patient, you realized you might have to.

The soldier looked like he wanted to say something more, when an authoritative voice broke through the ranks. “Let the man through! We have lost too many as is without losing another to a few hours of games.”

Every head snapped in the direction of whoever spoke. All except yours. The second you saw a gap in the crowd, you slid through and fell to your knees beside the drowned man, the one you determined to save.

First thing you did was check for responsiveness. It was out of habit mostly. A tap on the shoulder, a shout, another tap. He didn’t respond, that was unsurprising.

When you checked for a pulse, you found none, so you began chest compressions. Placing your hands together on his chest, arms straight, you began to push. The rhythm came to you naturally — you had made sure to pay attention in class, and this wasn’t the first time you had done this. Despite the fact that you knew no support was coming, that if you couldn’t get this man back by yourself, he would die, your head remained clear.

Do not lose sight of your goal, do not lose hope, go until you can’t anymore.

After thirty compressions, you took a deep breath, pinched his nose shut, and tilted his head back, placing your mouth over his. You heard a few gasps, and even a cry of disgust as you pulled back to push another breath into his lungs. Determined to pay the growing crowd no mind, you placed your hands on his chest and began to pump his heart again.

This went on for… like with your nap, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you were drenched in sweat, your arms were sore, and your breath coming out in harsh pants. Thirty more compressions, you inhaled a ragged breath and pushed oxygen into his lungs once more. If this didn’t work, you’d have to call it.

There was a hand on your chest, shoving you away, a watery cough filling your mouth with spittle before the drowned man flailed back to life. You didn’t take offense to the harsh treatment. He had woken up to a kiss. That would startle anyone. You rolled him over on his side and rubbed his back as he hacked up a lungful of murky water and whatever he had eaten for breakfast.

“You’re back,” You muttered softly, as comforting as you could. “Breathe. Slow and steady. It feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”

The man met your eyes, his own a startling shade of honey, a confused, but grateful, smile on his lips. “I thought I was gone.”

“Yeah, we all thought that!” A soldier with a shaved head nudged him roughly with his toe. “Medicus here worked a miracle with his lips.”

A hand reached down to clasp your shoulder, shaking you firmly, if not playfully. You looked up to see a man with floppy blond curls grinning down at the man you just saved, his lips pursed. “The kiss of life!”

You let a small, uncomfortable laugh titter from your mouth. Being surrounded by so many people was awkward, and their banter was even more so. You felt entirely out of place. Rather than focus on that, you fixed your attention back on the man you saved.

“What’s your name?”

“Sextus Aelius,” He answered, voice hoarse.

With a small smile, you gestured to another soldier to hand you a nearby tunic. Sextus — you wouldn’t laugh about his name, you wouldn’t — had begun to shiver, even in the hot sun, and you wanted to keep him warm. Not to mention he was still naked. You tried not to study him too much, focusing on the sharpness of his jaw and the gentle slope of his nose rather than his nudity.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sextus, I am—” You were cut off by a cacophony of noise, a few whistles interspersed within. A bit of heat rose to your face when you saw Sextus’ bewildered expression. “I fear I have made a blunder.”

To your relief, he merely laughed. “Aelius. Call me Aelius.”

“Right. I apologize, Aelius. How do you feel?”

Once you had given him the tunic, he slipped it on over his head, covering his modesty — not that anyone but you seemed to care all that much about it. When he stood, two men came to his side to steady him. Despite this, he still offered you his hand. It would be rude to deny him, though you didn’t feel comfortable accepting help from a man who had been, by many’s standards, dead a few minutes before. You gave him a small smile and pushed yourself to stand on your own.

“I could be better.” His grin was lopsided, the boyish kind that showed off his teeth. It was endearing enough for you to be proud of saving a good man, rather than a mere man. When he spoke next, there was no small amount of awe in his voice. “You saved my life, I am not sure if that is something I can repay.”

A snort pulled from your throat as you waved him off. “No repayment necessary, I only did what needed to be done.”

Aelius looked about to argue when he paled, his gaze flickering behind you. There was a creeping sensation of unease crawling up your spine, similar to when you had earned your parents displeasure. Standing behind you was a presence, one with enough authority to cause the men around you to stand at attention.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem directed at you. For now.

“What is the meaning of this, boy? I allow a bit of slacking off and you go and die on me?” It was the voice from before, the one who commanded his men to let you through. Taking a guess, you’d say this man was the centurion leading this particular century back to Rome. You didn’t dare look behind you, you didn’t dare move. Anything to keep his frustration off of you. It didn’t last long. A large hand clasped you on the shoulder, grip firm, but not harsh. “And to be saved by a foreigner! You should be on your knees thanking him for whatever trick on the gods he played at your behest.”

“That is unnecessary,” You tried to argue, only for the centurion to give you another shake.

“A humble medicus at that! Lucky boy! Very, very lucky!” He let go of you and gestured for Aelius to be taken elsewhere. “To the tents with you while I think of a suitable punishment. No man has died and lived to tell the tale on my watch, so I must be creative.”

Aelius, at least, looked ashamed, though the man with the floppy blond hair leaned down to whisper in his ear, a smirk dancing on his lips. Whatever was said earned him an elbow to the ribs. Men never change.

Before they could get too far, you found your voice. “Monitor him through the night! Fetch me if he stops breathing again!”

It was only once you heard the affirmative did you relax. Which lasted a moment before the centurion turned you around so you were facing him. His gaze was hard and his arms were crossed over his chest. Unlike the men before, the centurion was wearing his full armor, save for his helmet, another thing you were thankful for. You were not easily intimidated, but this man? He could crack you like a peanut.

After a moment of sizing you up, his eyes trailing from your clothes, so different from his own, with trousers instead of a tunic and a graphic t-shirt in an alphabet he knew, but words he couldn’t understand, to your green dyed hair. He didn’t seem impressed. In fact, he seemed suspicious.

“Lucius Marianus.” Unfurling one of his hands, he held it for you to shake.

With an awkward smile, you took his hand and introduced yourself. His grip grew a bit tighter at the sound of your obviously foreign name. You fought the urge to run away.

“A pleasure, Marianus.” This time, you called him by his second name, determined not to make the same mistake as earlier with a less forgiving man.

“Where are you from?” Quick and to the point, you could respect that. Logically, you knew that this wasn’t real, that ultimately, this was your dream and you held all the power, but there was a little voice in the back of your head telling you to be careful. “Are you a citizen, a slave, or a free-man?”

Licking your dry lips, you let your hand fall to your side, shoving it in your pocket before Marianus could see that you had begun to shake. “I am from a country far away. Across the western sea, farther than any have ever gone. I am a citizen of my country, but not of Rome, and I am no slave, so I suppose that makes me a free-man.”

“You suppose?” He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. “Well, I ‘suppose’ I won’t assume you’re a liar and a runaway. If I hadn’t just witnessed that…” Marianus paused, searching for the right word, and you hoped it would be one you recognized. “Technique of yours, I would figure just that. Tell me, medicus, what exactly did you do to one of my men?”

“I, uh…” Your tongue felt too big for your mouth. Whatever answer you gave this man, it better be satisfactory. All you could hope for was that the truth would be enough. “His heart was no longer beating, so I pressed upon his chest as hard as I could in the same rhythm that his heart would take.”

Marianus nodded, his expression contemplative. “And the kiss?”

“It was not a kiss!” The words burst forth before you could stop them, your face flaring even hotter. This entire conversation was reminiscent of one you would have with your father, and Marianus’ disapproval was getting to you more than it should. “I was breathing air into his lungs. I inhale, pinch his nose shut so the air doesn’t escape through his sinuses, and then blow into his mouth. If his chest rises, I am doing the procedure correctly.”

“Still, an intimate gesture to bestow upon a stranger.” His lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. You got the feeling he was teasing you now. “From what I can gather, this technique of yours mimics the functions of life in order to coaxe the spirit back into its vessel.”

You blinked, opening your mouth to argue with scientific facts. A beat passed before you snapped your jaw shut with an audible click. Better to not look a gift horse in the mouth. “I, uh, yes. It does. That is exactly it. You are a very intelligent man, Marianus, perhaps a career in medicine is calling your name.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, medicus.”

An awkward grimace pulled at your lips. “Right.”

Marianus was both unmoved and undeterred by your lame response. You expected him to leave you be. After all, despite the fact that you saved one of his men from drowning, you were still an outsider to both the village, the army, and Rome. In your head, he owed you nothing, all you did was your duty and you expected nothing in return. Marianus seemed to think otherwise.

“Where have you been sleeping, medicus?” With a sharp nod of his head, he gestured to your duffel bag and drying clothes. “I assume outside in the heat considering how poorly you are spoken of in town. Looking and speaking as you do, it’s no wonder anyone is hesitant to even allow you to sleep in their barn.” Again, the edges of his mouth curled upwards. “You are far more useful than previously anticipated. For once, I am happy to have my assumptions proven false.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Fetch your belongings, there are more men waiting to be your patients back at camp.”

You blinked, dumbfounded, before a sharp raise of Marianus’ black eyebrows broke you from your spell. If there were more people to be treated, you didn’t have to be told twice. With a bit of pep in your step, excited to have something to do rather than waste away in tedium, you stuffed your, now dry, clothes into your bag and slung it over your shoulder. Marianus eyed it with no small amount of reservation.

“Do you carry any weapons?”

You thought about your taser and pepper spray tactically placed in an easy to reach pocket on the side. “No. As a doctor, I consider myself a pacifist.”

Marianus snorted. “A good way to die.”

“Better to die giving life than taking it,” You replied easily. This wasn’t a lie. While you didn’t fault other’s for violence — how could you fault human nature? — you would rather heal before harm. A part of you hoped to balance the scales, do enough good to make the bad seem worth it. It was a lofty goal, one you tried not to dwell on. So long as you managed to help even a single person in your life, you would be happy, though you’d never confine yourself to such a meager goal. “If you don’t mind me asking, do your men not already have a doctor to treat them? Why take on a stranger’s help?”

“We did. He is no longer with us.”

You frowned. “A shame. Lose one soldier, and you only lose one man. Lose a doctor and your losses double. I never met him, but I’ll remember him fondly.”

“You’re soft. It’s a shame.” His words made you raise your eyebrows, and, when you looked at him, there was pity in his dark eyes, though it was only there for a second.

Marianus clamped his hand on the back of your neck and began to steer you in the direction of the camp. With few trees in sight, only lush farms and tall grass, the countryside was a sight to behold. You glanced over your shoulder to see the river and the village disappearing in the distance. While the road the two of you walked on was dirt, it was well trodden, no stones or holes to trip over. This truly was the Roman Empire. How your mind managed to conjure an image so beautiful and so unmistakably alien was beyond you.

“Has there been anyone caring for the injured?” You asked.

“Our veterinarius has been doing what he can, though I don’t like it. These are men, not animals.” To punctuate his displeasure, Marianus spit on the ground.

You nodded placatingly as you approached the first cluster of tents. Some of the soldiers recognized you, though you didn’t recognize them in return. Word traveled fast when you save someone’s life, you supposed. “I’m sure he’s doing his best.”

“His best is not enough,” Marianus grumbled.

Before you could respond, the stench of infection and sick filled your senses. If you hadn’t done clinicals or worked in healthcare while you completed your studies, it would have caught you off guard. Instead of blanching, you took your last deep breath of clean air, and braced yourself as much as you could. Marianus almost seemed impressed by the determination on your face as you pulled back the flap of the tent, joining a frazzled looking man — the veterinarius, you assumed — in his rounds.

All you could do was your best, and you intended for that to be enough.

Even as a student, you had steeled your heart to the worst suffering had to offer. Growing up as you did, with parents more interested in results than feelings, it became all too easy to turn off your bleeding heart and do what was necessary. By now, it was as simple as breathing.

Your bedside manner was gentle as you helped a few men, too injured to move, drink water from a ladle. If you were any less busy, you would have insisted it be boiled. Marianus would likely scold you, it was unrealistic for an entire century to boil water for every sick man, let alone every soldier, no matter how sound your advice was. Posca would do for now, as it always had.

For hours, you worked tirelessly, cleaning wounds and calming fevers. You were lucky modern medicine wasn’t all that you studied. In order to help as many people as you could, you focused on ancient and holistic practices as well, though you had an easy preference for the tried and true methods. There was no denying that you were a medical prodigy, a genius for all intents and purposes. It wasn’t that you had an ego — well, maybe you did — it was the fact that it was the truth. You had graduated college before you had turned eighteen and gone through medical school soon after. Right now, you were the youngest student going through their surgical residency in your state, perhaps even the country if you dared to let your pride swell. All of this, your parents would call their doing, that you would be nothing without their guidance.

You grimaced in the middle of setting a skinny man’s broken arm. Better not think about them now, it would only serve to stress you out even further. For all your skill, you caught yourself floundering inside the medical tent, Marianus watching from the entrance as you flitted from patient to patient, and the veterinarius sitting back to take a much needed break. While you had some supplies on you — a stethoscope, a sphygmomanometer, a Taylor hammer, none of which you’d utilized yet, a bottle of antiseptic, some ibuprofen, and three clean syringes — it wasn’t enough for you to feel comfortable. Which was ridiculous, this was your dream, you could do whatever you wanted.

Then again, if that was true, then why were you fumbling through even simple procedures? You didn’t feel comfortable using more invasive methods, not unless you had no other choice. The likelihood of survival was low, even with your steady hands. Perhaps this was a nightmare, a look into what life will be like once you were done with your schooling. Your slumbering mind was preparing you to be the failure you were always meant to be.

Shaking your head, you focused your attention back on your patient. No one seemed to notice your lapse, not even you. You were quite good at multitasking, mixing self-deprecation with stringent work ethic like a talented seamster. The skinny man was lucky it was a clean break, and even luckier, it wasn’t his humerus, which would have been more complicated given your lack of equipment. A bit of sweat trickled down your forehead as you stood, surveying the men around you. You had done well given the circumstances, but you still couldn’t help but feel as though it wasn’t enough.

Nothing was ever enough.

Even dreaming, you felt tired.

Three men had infected wounds. One was oozing pus, which apparently was a good thing according to the veterinarius and Marianus, though you still took care to clean the wound thoroughly. Another man had a fever due to the infection, and, after washing your hands, you took care to clean it as the other. After much reassurance that it wasn’t poison to Marianus — consisting of taking one yourself — you also gave him an ibuprofen for his fever, though you decided you were going to ration them unless it was an emergency. The third man was a bit harder, enough necrotic tissue forming around the infection that you considered surgery. For now, you introduced maggots to the area, a treatment Marianus seemed to approve of, if not with some disgust. In the morning, you would check the wound, and then surgically remove the decayed flesh if the maggots didn’t do enough.

Four men had broken bones, one, his arm, another, his finger, and two, their leg. That was simple enough, if not time consuming getting all the bone fragments to set properly. While you would have much preferred a cast to a splint, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

That wasn’t even to mention the handful of other men with various ailments that filled the tent. Apparently there was someone quarantined elsewhere, suffering from dysentery. According to the veterinarius, the treatment for that particular disease was rest, fasting, and dehydration, which you were in the middle of giving him strict instructions to keep the man as hydrated as possible, it didn’t matter how quickly he discharged it, he needed to be drinking as much water as he could. You didn’t hold out much hope he’d make it, though you’d be damned before you gave up on someone who needed you.

It wasn’t until Marianus clamped his hand on the back of your neck and began to steer you towards the tent’s exit did you realize how exhausted you were. Your eyes burned and your head throbbed. If you were any less of a man, you would have taken one of your ibuprofen to ease the dull ache in your temples. Ultimately, you decided against it. If there came a time when they were necessary and you had run out because of your own weakness, you would never forgive yourself.

“You did well, medicus. Better than I expected, you are very skilled at what you do,” Marianus said as he led you deeper into camp. By now, it was dark, well into the night too judging from the full moon directly overhead.

How long had you been working?

“Thank you. I am usually better than that. I fear my nerves of being in such an unfamiliar country are getting to me.” With the heel of your palm, you scrubbed at your face.

Marianus frowned down at you. “Keep your foreignness to yourself, medicus and you will go far. Though, that will be hard to do with hair like yours.” He looked you up and down, hesitant curiosity creeping into his features. “That strange color… it is not natural, is it?”

A laugh bubbled from your throat. “No, I dyed it. Green is a color I am rather fond of.”

“I am fond of red, but you do not see me painting my hair that color,” He grumbled under his breath, and it reminded you so much of the comments some of your superiors made, that you giggled.

Before you could respond, he gestured to a tent with an outstretched arm. A lantern was on inside, casting the shadow of the single occupant, who was busy sitting cross-legged and writing what seemed to be a letter. While you had reservations of interrupting, Marianus did not.

“Out here, now, boy!” The shadow visibly jumped before pulling back the flap to reveal Aelius. He looked as tired as you did, and truthfully, he stank to high heaven. You struggled not to wrinkle your nose so as not to offend him. Aelius seemed like a nice man.

“Sir?” Was all he managed before Marianus continued to bark his next set of orders.

“Since the two of you were acquainted earlier, and the fact that you were supposed to be monitored, you’ll be bunking together. In the morning, we set a course for Rome.”

You blinked. Did that include you? While you wouldn’t mind getting out of the village and seeing more of what this dream had to offer, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of uncertainty. There was no telling how long this dream would go on, nor how vast it was. You couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you strolled ‘out of bounds,’ so to speak. Would you be trapped in an infinite void until you awoke? The thought was enough to send a chill down your spine.

“And I will remain here,” You finally said.

Marianus barked out a laugh. “No. You will join us. I still have a use for you.”

As much as you didn’t want to abandon your current patients, you would rather not push your luck any further than you already had. Crossing your arms, you met Marianus’ furrowed brows with your own. “And that use would be?”

To your right, Aelius made a little noise. Your gaze flickered over to him, catching his motion for you to cease, before you ignored it and fixated back on Marianus. He was looking at you like you’d lost your mind. At least enough to question him. A bit of discomfort made your skin itch, you always hated earning the negative attention of a superior.

For a moment, you feared that Marianus would yell at you until the sun rose. He puffed up, shoulders squaring and his lower jaw jutting out before he deflated with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his angular nose. “You are too soft for the army, medicus, and you are too foreign to hope to set up your own clinic, especially without citizenship. There is very little hope for you in the Empire.”

You looked away, feeling cold even as a summer’s breeze blew against your skin. An argument began to boil in the back of your throat, an insistence that this was a dream, so none of that mattered, but you managed to swallow that poison before it could spew out of you.

Marianus paused, waiting for you to respond. When all he received was a defeated look, he continued, “There is, however, hope for both me and you. The emperors require a new physician and I believe they would be taken by your skill and your…” He looked at your hair again. “Novelty. In return for discovering you, if they choose to take you on, me and my men will be rewarded.”

“I see,” You muttered. Perhaps this was the route your dream wanted you to take. At the end of it all, there was sure to be a lesson or even a vision of sorts that could help you in reality. All you had to do to get it was allow the plot to pull you forward. “And Rome is not far?”

Marianus’ features softened, bordering on fondness, guilt, and pity. “Barely a day’s march, medicus.”

“I will go, then. To Rome with me, I suppose.” Though you smiled, when you turned to Aelius, he stared at you as if you’d been sentenced to death.

—————————————-

Tag list: @snazzynacho

[cynthiav06]

Percy's amnesia in SoN gave him the perfect excuse to build his confidence to where it should be and break up with Annabeth, with very few consequences, and I will always stand by that. Annabeth may be easier for the Greeks to back due to her history there, but she has nothing at Camp Jupiter, where he quickly and firmly established himself as a powerful, capable and trustworthy entity, getting promoted to Praetor within a week. I honestly believe that, after his SON quest and the "greeting" Annabeth gave him on their reunion, Percy should've broken up with Annabeth, stayed with Camp Jupiter and thrived there.

Not only would the structure help him long-term in the way it canonically did in the (maybe) three days we saw him spend there, but he has a proper support system without biases in favour of Annabeth. It would also provide a fun narrative contrast to Jason, which RR was trying to push in-story, where they thrive in the other's camp despite the shadow of a figure they kind of feel they have to live up to. Jason does better in the looser structure of CHB due to his having picked up many wolf-ish traits from Lupa, while Percy almost *relaxes* in the strict routine of CJ because it helps with his ADHD symptoms.

And this confidence he very clearly has in SoN, and the way he almost romanticized the possible relationship between him and Annabeth when he didn't have his memories, would lead to a very jarring experience when his memories are settled and he reunites with Annabeth. Because, woah, that was not just a subconscious bias from preferring his new friendships/camp structure, but she actually is like that.

Boom, he now has recontextualised memories and perspective of Annabeth, and a place where she doesn't have a stronger reputation than him, and he can fairly safely break up with Annabeth and escape attempts at retaliation.

He might wait until after the quest the Seven go on, so that he can immediately cut her out of his lfe, but this new perspective changes how he approaches her.

The canon would never, but fortunately for us, there are fic writers. If I get enough time somewhere in this month or next, I might end up writing this, but I will have to see, no promises.

Back to your point; you have covered mostly everything so I don't see what I should be adding to this exact scenario but yes it is one of the few perfect pit stops for a percabeth break up to happen. I am going to go down a slightly different avenue for this one as my thoughts vary a bit from yours, so bear with me. It is going to be long, but I need to recap and clarify a few things for others; I will get to your specific questions near the end. [Everything's numbered, so if you are in a hurry, just scroll to the final four points]

-------------------------------------------------------

The breakup could have been mutual, too, if Rick had written it well. If we follow the proper timeline, Annabeth was still hung up over Luke up until the end of BoTL and had just started to get over him at the start of Last Olympian. Percy had just been informed of the Prophecy and under massive stress between end of BoTL and start of TLO and was obviously arguing with Annabeth over it as she repeatedly got angry at him for reasonably freaking out over his then "assumed death" prophecy. To find some relief from all this, he was dating Rachel, who he really liked, had a kiss with, and overall a good relationship with.

Then the whole plot of the Last Olympian occurs in what can be considered to be a few months at best. Then both Percy and Annabeth get together but to recap the events leading up to this:

Rachel breaks up with Percy despite their good relationship due to understanding the role she needs to play in saving the Oracle.

Luke who had previously visited Annabeth to make her join him and who Annabeth was somewhat hung over still, dies.

The war ended up killing a lot of close friends and companions and was a generally traumatic event for everyone involved.

Percy is very high on mixed emotions, reeling from everything that's happened when he gets together with Annabeth, so neither of them have had any time to process anything that's happened properly enough.

They have their one month anniversary on September 18th[The Staff of Hermes short story], and Percy disappears in October. [Riordan.wiki has years and dates of important events].

So they have barely been together for two months, and Percy's already missing.

This is Annabeth's thought process when they do reunite. It implies she has been doing a bit of thinking about their relationship and might not be as sure about it anymore.

She also seems to heavily dislike Percy's initial idea of settling in New Rome and seems to have no intention of taking a break from quests like Percy does.

She also seems to dismiss Percy's unwillingness to go to NRU after the news of Estelle's birth and the events of CotG.

Those were a few key points of contrast between them both on their future plans. Not small ones either.

Now, back to their reunion and the events following; here are a few things:

She judo flips him in front of the Argo II and almost entirety of Camp Jupiter.

If Annabeth didn't know that Percy had lost the Curse of Achilles then she was judo flipping him on the small of his back where his mortal tether was located ; which she knew about and therefore would have killed him in her anger and hyper emotional state.

If Annabeth did know that he had lost the Curse of Achilles then she was still judo flipping her boyfriend who had been missing for six months after surviving an already very traumatic event where he barely managed to survive and was then put through kidnapping, six months of amnesia, and brainwashing against his will by a goddess and then thrust into an unknown land with enemies on his trail.

Further, she blames Percy for disappearing for all of the things HE suffered through against his will and HAS THE AUDACITY TO MAKE HIM APOLOGIZE FOR IT.

Annabeth says and I quote that she likes keeping Percy on his toes.

She also agrees with Piper that Percy needs to be leashed and controlled.

Then Percy's side gives us a few more concerning tidbits:

Percy repeatedly notes that he is scared of Annabeth or thinks she might hit him

He also says that she often brings up Rachel to make him uncomfortable.

Percy also doesn't feel comfortable confiding in Annabeth about Gabe or past trauma.

He repeatedly feels he isn't good enough for Annabeth, and obviously Annabeth's behavior consciously or subconsciously on her part enables his thought process.

He ends up almost killing himself because Annabeth makes him promise not to use his specific ability despite it being used in self-defense by Percy, which ended up saving them both because she was afraid of Percy's powers.

Yet another thing to point out is that Annabeth's fatal flaw hubris and her abandonment issues feed too much into her behavior, and until that is fixed, nothing can be helped.

Annabeth punched Percy in ttc just because he didn't ask her to dance like she wanted him to. She also gave Percy a very hard time just because he knew another girl (Rachel) and immediately acted controlling and toxically possesive towards Percy over Rachel and Calypso despite her and Percy not being in a relationship at any of those points. In fact, despite her supposed crush on Percy, she defended Luke all the way till Botl, despite his repeated attempts at murdering Percy, and even went as far as to say Percy was unreasonably angry at Luke. She also displayed rude and downright awful behavior when interacting with Rachel; and Rachel, being the better person, handled her with class and grace. This all is not even including her demeaning remarks against Percy's intelligence and condescending behavior.

We can conclude from all this that Percy and Annabeth are not compatible, with different future goals and clashing perspectives and most importantly due to lack of proper communication, terrible misunderstandings, and Annabeth's consistent toxic behavior.

But neither the characters nor the author and not even most of the fandom acknowledge any of these glaring issues, so nothing can be done, but their break up can go several ways:

1.

Percy and Annabeth both break up amicably with Annabeth apologizing and understanding the gravity of her behavior and her mistakes and consistently making up to Percy for all the things she has been doing terribly. This is only possible for pre Tartarus or pre MoA situation.

Annabeth could have had a good arc in overcoming all of her problems while Percy too dealt with his self esteem issues and past trauma and they could have given their relationship a shot again in the future; they are both too young right now.

2.

Percy confronts Annabeth on her behavior and breaks up with her. Things get ugly, and it ends up being horrible for both of them. This is a traumatic situation on both ends, but the reason why this is unlikely is that Annabeth and Percy have a case of trauma bonding, and there's hints of codependency more on Annabeth's end. Which makes Percy mask Annabeth's toxic traits easily and for Annabeth to ignore Percy's devolving mental health and self-esteem issues that she has been enabling unknowingly.

3.

The other likely option is third-party intervention. Sally or Poseidon/Athena or other campers.

I also disagree that the camp half blood would back Annabeth. Percy's their [CHB] unofficial leader and a good friend to all of them plus he is the reason the children of other non-Olympian gods have cabins and get claimed early so he definitely has a higher status than Annabeth does in both camps. Camp Jupiter also does respect Percy more than any other Greek, and he is the only Greek to ever be made Praetor. So in social or reputation terms, Percy's winning.

But I don't think other campers would dare meddle in Percy and Annabeth's business. Maybe the seven would. [Leo and Frank would never. Jason probably doesn't understand the whole situation. Piper’s misguided and would probably feed into Annabeth's behavior, so either Hazel or Reyna? Hazel would definitely help Percy understand, and Percy would totally hear Hazel out. Thalia, hmm, I don't really know what Thalia would do, but I don't think she would blindly back Annabeth. She does seem to care for and respect Percy just as much. Nico isn't touching it with a 20-foot pole, plus I don't think he is over his Percy crush at all, so he's not an unbiased party either. ]

4.

Last option and what probably is the most likely is that things continue as they are and Percy eventually snaps due to endless pressure and his mental health issues and Annabeth can't deal with it and then all their other issues which they have both ignored come spilling out and then it's just a clean break but it's going to be the most excruciating way out and given their luck definitely happening.

[seijorhi]

woaaa rhiii your new fic is amazing!! TTwTT I was reading some of the questions you answered and I thought it was very interesting the way you wrote MC and Aya's relationship

At first I thought that semi and tendou saw Reader as a “I feel like that beta can knot my omega just by looking at her so I should get her out of the way” type of competition

My impression between them is that they had a bond beyond friendship and that's why Aya demanded alphas to accept MC (you can correct me on this point). Generally omegaverse universes are always built with unfair and repressive societies, in my head Aya would have only stayed with MC if it wasn't for her biological needs (?)

I think it was mentioned before that it has a similar feel to Means to an End, only here I'm left with the feeling that Aya and MC had a sort of forbidden love and now Aya has to deal with her real life partner being taken away from her while Ame in mte prioritizes her relationship with Atsumu over her best friend's safety and comfort. Also, I was fooled by the alphas' reactions, first I thought they were competing against the beta for the omega but it turned out to be the other way around!

And the way Semi orchestrated the whole plan using Ushijima as an essence detector dog to check that MC was the girl he saw by chance is quite comical ngl about it😭

ahh thank you for the ask bby!

for aya, she's always known her future involves a mating bonds with a pack of alphas. it wasn't 'good omegas end up with alphas' or even 'lucky omegas settle down with alphas' but 'bond into a pack before your heats eventually kill you'. it's deeply entrenched, a foregone conclusion.

she'll bond into a pack because she doesn't have a choice in the matter, but she'll do it with her beta because that's the future she chooses. the idea of losing the reader is as unfathomable as it is terrifying to her, to the point she's willing to risk it all to find the right pack that'll accept them both. love them both. she's genuinely perplexed that these alphas aren't falling over themselves for her beta because??? how could they not???

also ghfjdkjhvfdks ok so to clarify, semi wasn't using ushijima to confirm the reader was the one he'd bumped into. no, at that point he'd chatted up the bright, bubbly omega at the bakery and found out all about the her beta friend and the package deal they were trying to make work. he knew he couldn't get that beta or her scent out of his head.

for him, it was a done deal. he could put up with aya to get access to his beta if that's how it worked out, but he was curious. because alphas choose their packmates, sure. but it isn't just a case of picking your friends and hoping for the best. kind of like with mates, there's a feeling to it. a connection that runs deeper.

when semi dragged ushi to the bakery, he was testing what pulled a stronger reaction from the pack alpha; the sweet omega who smelled like lilacs, or the faint whiff of sea salt and the summer breeze she carried with her.

[oozedninjas]

Can I please get some headcanons of the bayverse turtles and how they act when they see their s/o starts hanging out with a friend who clearly has feelings for them but s/o is a bit oblivious🙏

Ooff! I smell trouble! Can someone keep them away from the knives? Also, I'd like to clarify that I support Donnie in his rights and his wrongs.

Leo

He's initially too cocky to be jealous.

And then you start bringing this person up all the time.

You have a friend whom you watch movies with? Cute.

Oh, you went to a bookstore the other day and then got ice cream Fun! They can take you to public places, haha, not wrenching at all.

He's totally chill about it!

He would be so passive-aggressive about the matter 💀

It's pretty funny watching him struggle to keep composure when all he wants to do is swift his katana across their throat.

"Wait- are you jealous?" you ask at some point, in disbelief.

He snickers.

"Me? Of course not. But you do realize they have feelings for you, right?"

He's so bitter

You snort. "What? No! They're just a friend."

"He looks at you like you're a snack," Leo insisted.

"And am I not?" you tease.

"Yeah, but you're my snack."

Raph

Breaking news! That guy's not your friend anymore.

At least not if you wanna keep him as a boyfriend, because how are you gonna go around hanging out with someone who has feelings for you?

"Come on babe, you're overreacting. He's just a friend."

Oh, he will freakin' lose his cool. Narrowed eyes, deep frown, clenched jaw. All the package. How can you be so oblivious?

"Look, I know it sucks for me to ask this, but, would you stop seeing him?" he would ask, cringing at himself. "It makes me uncomfortable," he added, for once in his life following Donnie's advice, as he was working on being a healthy boyfriend for you.

You smile, touching his cheek, "I would never do something that makes you uncomfortable, Raph. I'll talk to him. I can't promise you I'm cutting contact from one day to the other, but I'll do my best."

Yeah, that's enough.

Donnie

Donnie doesn't follow his own advice.

That guy was glued to your side all the freaking time.

"He's just a friend!"

"Please, even Casey can tell he has feelings for you. You're smart. I don't know why you're the only one who won't see it," he grumbled.

You dismissed it, but Donnie had a master plan to get rid of that prick.

"I'm building this new machine to prevent electrocutions in areas with protruding wires in the lair. I just need to test if the insulating materials work," he tells your friend casually. "Do you want to help me test it?"

And what you see in the future of that interaction is your friend electrocuted.

"Donnie, hun, can we talk?"

After you distance yourselves a couple of meters you begin:

"Please tell me you weren't planning to electrocute him."

"As I said, I was just testing my new creation. Any side effects it may have caused would have been a sacrifice for scientific purposes."

"Donnie!"

"Alright! I'm sorry. It bothers me, okay? I can see him lusting for you, and it bothers me. But I didn't want to appear controlling, nor did I want to hurt you by forcing you to cut off a friendship."

You sigh. "No, I'm sorry. I should've known it made you this uneasy. I won't keep it up." you assured.

He gives you a tiny smile. "Thank you."

"No need to. Let's go back," you say before chuckling. "I can't believe you were gonna do that."

Donatello scoffs. "Please, it wasn't gonna kill him."

Mikey

Your best friend is fun to be around! :)

But he has feelings for you :(

And you haven't noticed! Mikey doesn't want to have that conversation just yet.

Yeah, it doesn't sit well with him, but Mikey, you know, he has excellent self-esteem, and he's sure that you love him and him only.

So, while it isn't the most fun situation, he's willing to tolerate this friendship as long as you always give him his place as your boyfriend.

And as long as you and your friend don't hang out alone. Not because he doesn't trust you but because he wants to avoid this friend making a move that might make you uncomfortable.

Such a sweetheart, 10/10

But don't betray him bc he'll dump your ass.