#dearpatroclus

[coffeebeannate]

hi nate! 12 - Finally home after a hard day + 13 - “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.” for kaysanova please 👉👈 (dearpatroclus)

Hello Courtney~! Absolutely! @dearpatroclus​ (Sorry I totally forgot to actually include your username before kasjnsjadk)

Two-Part Drabbles

Joe sighs heavily when he drops their bags atop the dull green carpet of one of the endless motel rooms they’ve called ‘home’ for so long.

They do have other more permanent locations about the globe, but more often than not, it is this. Some temporary station that may or may not have running water, or heat. A dingy television that may not get all channels, if anything at all, and the uncomfortable springs of a bed with origins and body histories best not considered when so exhausted even blinking feels too monstrous. Too impossible. Too taxing.

Despite it being the 21st century, the motel has neither wifi, nor internet of any sort. The old radiator style heater is long yellow from age, and Joe eyeballs the dark brown cover of the single double bed wearily.

Still, it promised a shower, with hot water. A shower Joe is too damned exhausted to take.

Nicky’s hand is on his back, wide and steady, where Joe’s barely moved from the doorway.

“What is it?” He asks, in low Italian, though Joe knows it’s more courtesy to rouse him than anything else, “Do you just want to sleep?”

Joe tips his head back, accepting the shoulder that greets it. His ears still ring distantly from the gunshots, his head feels foggy and heavy with smoke.

“Would be no good.” As tired as he is, he knows showering at the very least is the better option, “But a quick one.”

A routine done thousands upon thousands of times before and there is no ease in the adjustment of it. Even if firing a gun, or holding his scimitar is done with the same physical memories no more complex at times than holding a fork at dinner, there’s an endless calling of ‘why’ and ‘maybe this time, do not.’ Something to trip him up, something to spark that brief second of hesitation.

There’s smudges and streaks in the small oval shaped bathroom mirror, and Joe stares himself dead in the eye, exhausted and tense, with each piece of clothing he removes while Nicky works to bring the stubborn old pipes to temperature.

Being fast healing, his muscles look little different than they did so many centuries ago, but having more continual nutrition allows a glow to his skin, a shine of health that had never truly been present the first five hundred years of his life.

His hair, though sodden and sticky from dirt and smoke, retains a healthily robust shine that Nicky comments on whenever he has an opportunity. There’s a spark of clarity in his eyes, and blood that flakes from his cheeks and leaves nothing but fresh, perfect skin beneath.

He’d not lived long enough as a mortal to develop the firm, obvious wrinkles he can barely remember his father or grandfathers having had. But there’s a definite crinkle to his forehead and the corners of his eyes where such things had slowly been starting to develop.

Until it was determined he’d be eternally 33.

Nicky would tell him, running his hands over the fuzz of hair against his chest, the looseness of a stomach well fed and unstrained, that nobody who looked to them could possibly guess what they’d been through. How they appeared so often in perfect health, still young and new to the world.

“Are you finished college?” Nicky had heard, more than once. “Have you kids?” Joe had heard to them both. “What do you do for a living? Where are you from? Have you got any plans for the future?”

“They cannot help it.” Nicky told him, curled up together later, “We look just like them. They can’t possibly comprehend.”

But they were just like them. The man Joe stared at in the mirror was him. A human. A human that just happened to heal really fast and could not retain death.

Was that not like them?

He held no super strength, no mystic abilities brought about by some fantasy element. He did not contain secrets. He was human. He just didn’t die.

Nicky didn’t die either. Nicky, who now once again was slowly trying to pull Joe from his thoughts. Nicky, with his careful, penetrating gaze of pure green concern, the vaguely hard, semi-chapped lips Joe so loved to kiss and new so well he could trace their shape in his sleep.

There’s dark black dirt on his cheeks, and ash on his nose. There’s the smell of weakening gunpowder on his fingertips when they run down Joe’s beard. His lips taste like soot when they come to Joe’s, his mouth pliant and willing when Joe pushes for more.

The shower water is hot and won’t be for long, the burning makes Joe yelp when he’s guided inside, slow, sluggish pressure not enough to soothe but good enough for cleaning. Nicky’s strong, sure hands finding soap and massaging into Joe’s hair.

Water turns grey beneath their feet, Joe tries to breathe through exhausted, small tears.

Nicky lets him cry, thumb pads gently pushing them away, encouraging Joe to breathe with him when there’s too many, when he can’t see and his eyelashes cling.

Hummed songs in Italian, gentle whispers in Joe’s ear.

The hands Joe fists into Nicky’s hips that clutch and burn, that bring him closer to himself in the need to know that there is something that stays the same. That there is something in this ever-turbulent world that feels identical. 

The towels are scratchy, the fabric loose, Joe cannot be bothered to find anything more exciting than faded blue boxers, sitting on the bed with Nicky only after he’s dried his own hair of the worst dampness, ancient black sweats loose on his hips.

He’s heavy in Joe’s lap and blissful in his patience.

“Rest,” Nicky says, kind, sweet, nose brushing Joe’s. 

If sleep came now Joe’d only be subjected to terror. Nicky knows and puts a finger to his lips. “Only rest, not sleep. Not until you’re ready.”

Under the blankets, Nicky’s chest is a comforting pillow, Joe’s eyes watching the muted colours of the TV without registering a single thing that happens in the program. 

Joe must fall asleep, for he’s sure he notes the room darkening, the distant television sound ceasing, and Nicky’s sleep-heavy voice in his ear, “Good Night, my love.”

And he knows nothing after that. 

[emjee]

hey, this is dearpatroclus <3 wanted to tell you how much i admire your (talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, spectacular, show=stopping) writing and your thoughts on joenicky, because u have brought me a significant amount of joy in 2020 and i appreciate it and all the things u share so much <3<3 wishing u the best going into 2021, and fingers crossed for a TOG sequel announcement soon

My dear dearpatroclus, the very same to you! Thank you for such a lovely message, truly the people I have met through the fandom have been a huge bright spot in this dim year, yourself of course included. Wishing you all the best going into 2021, and lots of love. 💜💜💜

[starsisbig]

hi this is dearpatroclus <3 just wanted to wish u all the best going into 2021 and say thank u for running such a lovely blog, always a joy to see u on my dash <3

aah!! thank u sm <3

i love ur tog hcs w a passion. they’re basically canon to me. have a wonderful New Year!!!

[alostsock]

An exercise in futility.

Summary/Snippet: “Did you think it hadn’t been tried, Booker?” Booker blinks, slowly turning to face Nicky.

“What?”

“Did you really think it hadn’t been tried? That everything hadn’t been tried? Everything that woman did, every experiment she ran. None of it is new.”

TW: self-harm, medical experimentation (nothing graphic), body horror, self-hatred, suicidal ideation

This is based on a headcanon by @dearpatroclus which you can read here, so thank you to them! Thank you also to @socvrates for the amazing beta, and to @shaolinqueen for the brainstorming, and for the line “Maybe next time, habibi” because it crushed me and so I included it.

Everything below the cut.

Part 1: Booker

“Did you think it hadn’t been tried, Booker?” Booker blinks, slowly turning to face Nicky.

“What?”

“Did you really think it hadn’t been tried? That everything hadn’t been tried? Everything that woman did, every experiment she ran. None of it is new.”

“You’ve been… wait no, you haven’t been taken in the past 200 years, I would have known about it. Science has changed, Nicky. There’s so much that they can do now that they couldn’t do in the 1700s. You don’t know -”

Nicky says nothing. He turns to face Booker, his eyes dark.

“I would have known…” Booker tries again, losing steam when Nicky continues to look at him with a carefully blank face. His shoulders slump. “When were you taken? Where? Was it you? Was it Joe? Andy? Was it when I was in Shanghai in ‘89? Or  Rennes in ‘27? Why didn’t you tell -”

“We weren’t taken, Booker. Or at least, nothing you don’t know about.”

Booker straightens up again. “Well then how would you know - ?”

“I tried it.”

“What?”

“I tried it myself.”

Booker looks at him in confusion. “What do you mean you tried it yourself?”

“I did the research myself.”

Booker knows there’s something that Nicky isn’t saying (as there tends to be with Nicky, his words always hinting at depths he won’t say) but it’s just out of reach, his mind failing to put it together.

Nicky pushes himself up off of the porch step and heads back inside, the door swinging shut behind him.

-----

Part 2: Nile

They’re in an apartment by the Bay of Naples when Nile finds them. It’s an old property, definitely older than Nile (as most things are), and the things scattered around the house show it. The pots are old, the fireplace is well-used, and some of the clothes that Joe pulls out of the closet look like they’re from the wrong century (they just might be).

It looks innocent enough, at first. In an alcove off of the living room there’s a tall bookshelf, full to bursting. Nile hesitates. They’ve told her time and time again that what’s theirs is hers now, but these old books, clearly well-worn and often looked through, feel personal. She leans closer, hesitant to touch anything. Some of them have titles still legible on the spines. Others are too worn to read, while others still don’t appear to have anything written on the spines at all.

There are a few worn classics in Italian, English, and French that Nile recognizes.

Boccaccio, Shakespeare, Hugo, Rabelais.

There are others in languages Nile can’t read.

Curious and vaguely emboldened, Nile pulls out one of the unmarked books.

The only things she really understands are the dates on some of the pages. There are a few drawings that might have been done by Joe, but most of the book is filled with what Nile recognizes as Nicky’s hand.

She thinks it’s in Latin. It might be in Italian, but she suspects it’s too old of a form for her to read with her limited skills. Flipping through a few more pages and unable to really make out anything meaningful, she carefully closes it and puts it back on the shelf, picking up another.

The next one is much the same.

The pictures, scarce though they are, seem scientific, medical. She knows that Nicky has a medical degree - possibly more than one. Maybe he wrote something and Joe did the drawings for him.

It isn’t until the fifth book that the language starts to tend toward a recent enough form that Nile can make some things out between her recently acquired Italian skills and the Spanish she learned in high school. Between that and the obvious progress over the tomes in methodicity and organization, Nile realizes what she’s looking at.

They’re records of experiments.

She feels dread building in her stomach as she sits heavily on the couch, unable to tear her eyes away. There are a few times she needs to pull out her phone to check a translation but it becomes very clear what the experiments were about: they were experiments on immortality.

Nicky experimented on someone - and given what she knows about the immortal… community, or lack thereof? It must have been Joe or Andy or Booker.

She sits in silence, trying to understand.

Kind Nicky, gentle Nicky, very-much-the-mom-friend Nicky, had it in him to cut out pieces of his friends. It doesn’t feel right. Didn’t doctors take an oath to “do no harm”? She supposes it didn’t stop Kozak, and she knows that anything that was done would heal instantly, but the idea of Nicky taking a blade to Joe or Andy or Booker willingly unsettles Nile deeply.

And based on the number of books here (and Nile is sure that, with the number of properties they have around the globe, this isn’t the only stash of them), Nicky did a lot.

The notes are meticulous, and even with the language barrier Nile gets a pretty good idea of the extent to which Nicky went. Even though they heal, it feels wrong.

She hears the padding of footsteps on the stairs and she can’t help but hope that it isn’t Nicky. She isn’t sure if she can face him just yet - if she can handle how much her perception of him has changed.

She lets out a breath of relief when she sees that it’s Joe. When he sees her sitting on the couch he immediately beams at her, and she feels guilt rush through her when his face drops as he notices the book on her lap.

She shouldn’t have looked.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then he huffs out a breath before calling out “Tea?” and heading to the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

Nile doesn’t know if she can stomach tea.

---

When he comes back he places both teacups on the coffee table before carefully taking the book out of her hands, closing it, and putting it back on the shelf. She notices that he does it all without even looking down at the page. He keeps his gaze averted as if he can’t bear to look at it.

She’s speaking before she can stop herself. “Was it you?”

Joe freezes midway from the shelf to the couch.

“What?”

Nile gestures vaguely. “The… the book. Was it you?”

Joe frowns. “What? No… I mean… Nicky wrote it. He’s the one with the medical training, you know that.”

Nile blinks. “I mean… who did he… who did he experiment on. Was it you? I just… I can’t imagine he would, on you… and so much, too. Even on Andy, or Booker, I...”

Joe’s expression shutters. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment before hesitantly walking the rest of the way back to the couch and sitting down beside her.

He stares down at his own hands, fiddling with one of his rings. “Nicky never touched us.”

That does not make Nile feel better. She squeezes her hands together to stop them from shaking. If he wasn’t experimenting on immortals, then that only left… “He - he must have killed them.”

Joe whips his head around to face her. “What?”

“I… I know I didn’t understand everything, but some of the things he did, there’s no way they made it. He was just… just killing them. For the sake of what, science? Nicky? I never - ”

Joe cuts her off with a quick shake of his head, taking her hand in his.

“No.”

“Joe, have you read those? Even with my shitty Italian and no medical degree I can tell that -”

“No.”

Nile softens. She knows denial. Nicky’s been the love of his life for 900 years. “Joe…”

Joe clears his throat uncomfortably, giving her hand a squeeze. “I’ve read them, Nile. I did the art… when I could handle it.” She waits, sensing he has more to say. “But… Nile… he didn’t hurt anybody else.” She opens her mouth, about to argue that it’s impossible when he continues, “The point was to test immortality, test how it can be… what it can do. If it can be harnessed. Testing mortals would have been pointless.”

“But you said he didn’t touch you. He clearly experimented on someone, Joe, he -”

“He refused to hurt anyone else.”

Nile blinks, confused, but Joe doesn’t say anything else. He lets go of her hand and goes back to playing with his rings, but Nile can see the anguish written all over his face. She reaches out a tentative hand to rest on his back, unsure how to comfort him, or even, really, what she’s comforting him for. 

“Joe…” But then, what he said seems to settle in her mind. “He didn’t hurt anyone else.” Joe nods, doesn’t look at her. “He didn’t hurt anyone else,” Nile continues. She thinks she’s going to be sick. “All of that… all of that, he did to himself?”

Joe doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to.

-----

Part 3: Joe

Joe loves and hates medical breakthroughs. He loves them because, having lived for so long, it’s such an amazing thing to see things that used to cause so much suffering no longer need to. He loves how many unfathomable things have become possible.

He hates them because every time something groundbreaking is published, Nicky gets a distant look in his eyes. Then come the days of scouring the literature, the planning, the hypothesizing. Nicky sinks into a dark hole that will only get darker, and Joe has to try to press food into his hands and drag his love to bed because if he didn’t, he knows Nicky wouldn’t stop to breathe.

What Joe hates most is that working himself to the bone is hardly the worst thing that Nicky will do to himself when he gets into it.

He hates that he knows that nothing he says will dissuade Nicky from desperately destroying himself.

He hates that all he can do is wait until he sees in Nicky’s eyes that it won’t work - until he sees that Nicky knows (however much he doesn’t want to admit it) that he’s tried everything, and that continuing is pointless.

He hates that even though, in the back of his mind, Nicky knows he’s done, he will continue regardless, doing the same thing over and over, still hoping for a different outcome. He hates that all he can do is pull the notebook out of Nicky’s trembling hands, press a kiss to his forehead, and brush back his sweaty hair before putting a hand under his elbow and helping him to his feet.

“Maybe next time, habibi. For now, sleep.”

-----

Part 4: Andy

Healing is exhausting. The human body (even the immortal one) needs fuel. It needs rest.

It isn’t meant to be taken apart over and over, no matter how seamlessly the skin grows back.

After she walks in to find Nicky focused over a piece of his own liver, a frenzied, desperate look in his eyes for the umpteenth time, his cheeks gaunt and his face pale, she realizes the best and worst part of the progression of humanity is science.

It’s not the first time he’s gotten like this, and she’s sure that it won’t be the last.

She knows that Nicky carries guilt. She knows that horrors from his first life still haunt him in his dreams, and that he still sees himself as responsible for the atrocities committed centuries ago at Jerusalem.

She suspects that, in everything that he does, a part of Nicky is still trying to atone - a part of him still sees himself as owing penance.

She suspects that, in the deepest part of his heart, Nicky hates himself a little

She suspects that this will never really change..

She knows that no amount of pleading, of Joe’s tears, of reminders that nothing has ever worked, will stop Nicky from desperately hoping that this time, this time he can pull something out of himself that will save the world.

She has offered, Joe has offered, every time Nicky is convinced that something is different, now - that humankind has what it needs, to make it work this time - to be the sample, to be the source.

Nicky took a scalpel to Andy’s skin once with a quivering hand before leaving to throw up.

“You’ve cut me in training before. You don’t need to keep hurting yourself.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

“What if… what if it’s the last time and I did it on purpose?”

“What if it’s your last time?”

Nicky turns away without a word, but Andy hears the “it wouldn’t matter” all the same.

[tea-lizzard]

click for quality :D

based on this amazing post by @dearpatroclus​ !!!!

[chronicowboy]

tagged by the absolute angel/just plain wonderful human being @anagonyeet i !! love !!!!! you !!!!!!!! so !!!!!!!!!! much !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the rules: tag five or more people that you are thankful for in your 2020, that you're thankful exists in a world that's hard to live in. wether that be through random reblogs on your posts, or people you have had full blown conversations with. wether it's just seeing them in your dash, or interacting with them.

i think we all knew it was gonna be more than five: @hollyjollyhope @armsofstranger @nilesfreeman @your-villainous-neighbour @tony-stark-potts @tonystarkstan @underoosstark @stvrkreactor @floryara @firstpynch @gadver @cillianmurphy @cherry-magic @valkyrle @molinasjules @dearpatroclus i love you all so much !!!

[perenial]

dearpatroclus again, have u heard my own soul's warning by the killers? very strong transition from enemies to lovers energy for joe and nicky

okay not only are the lyrics v fitting but that melody?? fucking superb

[tari-aldarion]

JUST READ YOUR TAGS ON THE TANGLED AU FANART POST AND DJSJSSKLA I CANT

Now that’s all I want thanks to you 😭 feel free to write it!! Please 🥺

LOOK I WAS GOING FUCKING FERAL THIS MORNING OVER THE IDEA (by the amazing artist @dearpatroclus)

It’s too perfect???? JOE THE SWEET AND ENERGETIC ARTIST??? NICKY THE DREAMER THIEF WHO NEEDS SOME LOVE????? they juST CANT GET HIS NOSE RIGHT. EVEN THE SUN SYMBOLISM LIKE HOLY SHIT.

PLUS!!!! Andy, Quynh, and Nile owning the pub and being vicious criminals whO ALSO HAVE OTHER DREAMS??? Coming to save them from the prison??? BOOKER AS MAXIMUS WHO IS A LITTLE SHIT and protective of Joe while happily teasing Nicky yES.

We all knew Yusuf al-Kaysani’s curls were magical and HERE IS THE AU FOR IT.

[edwardrickette]

@destianac @sorceressyenn @nedsnickerson @starfishspencers @afakepsychic @dumbfilmschoolkid @someonefantastic @shawnnspencer @nowidonthatecaliforniaafterall @jmccarstairs @ive-heard-it-b0th-ways @lovingdindjarin @marwanckenzari @dailynilefreeman @daniwouldnever @strangehighs @powermonk @dearpatroclus @moonlightandromache @antukini @vanille-berry @manicpixiewonderbread @aarod2020 @dr-potatobums @rexyluther @thatneko0taku @tropicalparadisesuspicion @if-only-we-truly-knew @heartinarosebud @rachanadodo @atldad4you @obey-wylliam @sarahjaneadventures @regenderate @thehousesetfiretomyheart @eightdoctor @nakiju13 @daisyraisey @starshipentrprise @notanannoyingfangirl @candlelitcryptid @shimmyingbuildscharacter @lyraingondolin @apollos-left-nipple @sweetjunky @jonsnowdoesknow @edwardrickette @whitenstark @kickassfu @ishakethedust @missberryisbest @cherrynoel @i-ambeth @thotticia @sarahlameilleure @mickeymouseshoes @27seebi27 @bloominae @taegeukgi @quellthefire @melonsarepeopletoo @iampikachuhearmeroar @ana-banana5 @fuckalloyall @theserg97 @magmcgill @indigovein @mantisshrimpsareawesome @okinsane @holdmedown-now @apancakeadventure @porter245 @tarantula-teeth @fbi-van-outside-blog @filmhoesseehowitgoes-blog @aestheticdiscontent @alice-wieckowska-art @totheheartnmind @mycatalystforgrowth @amythehooligan @2333mu @bdpaperworld @embrrsed @imseriousirius @a-sunshine-gay @virgoghstudies @s0nny-l0u-blog @zukosfires @bandtrash0818 @hilentsills @seniorclickbait-blog @imhereforgaysuperheroes @pretzelpapi @redheadblondesandbrunett3s @gb-z80 @guterman-klara7dzc30-blog @cassthethicc @binjil @becauselovedogs-blog @nostlgicwnderlust @free-insta-follows-blog @rajasunameit @spoffyumi @boricua-tears @windsofregretandmistrust @flowercrowns-and-virgos @best-mmorpg-hits-blog @lyagaev-romangu6jt @realvague @sugandisurya-blog @xibycantrell19532-blog @hhawque @slayingthatnetflixlife101-blog @rhymesswith @logue-donellag7t35t2-blog @palaxies @myfakereality1 @tunnel-cat @bees-n-things @ichasecars @tsukie-808-blog @deanthepiesexual666 @yummmyfood-blog1 @snapbuttonsonadenimshirt @burnthe-kitchen

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[emjee]

Thank you for tagging me, @nevermindirah​!

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in  2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

The amount of fic I’ve written during the pandemic is somewhat surprising to me and also not that surprising now that I think about it because I distinctly remember writing fic during other stressful periods (although hasn’t this one been the one to rule them all). So here are five things I wrote in 2020, in chronological order!

1. As Full and Fair a Bed, the third fic I wrote after seeing the most recent film adaptation of Emma. It was the last film I saw in theatres and it, along with the novel, has become a real comfort and touchstone for me this year. I had a lot of fun writing ficlets for it because I love Emma and Knightley very much and because I got to try a new narrative voice style! This fic has all the hallmarks of an MG Fic (TM): gratuitous references to the Book of Common Prayer, gratuitous references to Shakespeare (including a small misquotation), and a man momentarily blacking out the first time he sees the woman he loves with her hair down.

2. Sing Ye Praises with Understanding, a London-era Black Sails fic in which James and Thomas discuss the nature of Divine Love between rounds of Sunday afternoon sex. I watched Black Sails during the part of this year that was personally the most stressful for me, it made a huge impact and means so much to me that it’s almost hard to talk about sometimes. Even setting aside its wonderful storytelling, I will always be grateful that I found it when I did; watching it and having it to look forward to absorbed a lot of stress this summer.

3. You do not have to be good. I know I’m not the only person who saw The Old Guard cross their dash and thought, “well I’m obviously going to be become obsessed with that so I have to put off watching it until I have the mental space to do so.” I watched TOG about a month after it came out because I knew I wouldn’t be able to lose my mind over it while simultaneously losing my mind over Black Sails. And then more than a month after watching it I rolled in late with metaphorical Starbucks and this fic. I love stories about faith and I wanted to write one, and the response was beyond what I could have ever imagined and I am so grateful, the conversions I have had as a result of this fic have been one of the best parts of my year, and I have been so touched by everyone who has left a comment or DM’d me to tell me what this thing that I wrote because I miss church and because I’m a low-key sucker for a Hot Priest story meant to them. Thank you all so much.

4. don’t go sharing your devotion (lay all your love on me). This is an example of one of my favorite things about fandom, which is someone making a post and me going “oh actually that would be fun to write” and then writing it (that is how most of my TOG fics have happened). This one was the speedrun version of that; I saw the post while scrolling through my phone right after waking up, imagined this fic vividly throughout my entire workday, and had it posted by dinnertime, I think. Plus the pandemic touch starvation has really gotten to me and it was cathartic to write about Joe and Nicky being completely unable to keep their hands off each other. Plus ABBA title.

5. Verbum caro factum est. As I look back at what I’ve written this year, it’s become glaringly obvious that I’ve been working my way through some personal faith-related things via fic, and nothing I’ve written this year reflects that more clearly than this one-shot about Nicky and the Incarnation and welcoming/observing Christmas by yourself in your home instead of with people in church, which is basically how I just spent this past weekend. Again, this is one where people have left some truly lovely and deeply meaningful comments, and it really touches me more than I can say.

tagging @indieninja92​, @werebearbearbar​, @polarcell, @dearpatroclus​, @meet-the-girl-who-can​, and anyone else who sees this and thinks “hey, I wanna do that!” Do tag me so I can see it.  

[nicky-olives]

THE TAGS @dearpatroclus

Andy: It’s nice that you’re helping teach Quynh modern English, but can you not do it in vine references?

Nile: I have no clue what you’re talking about.

Quynh, post 500 years underwater, in the distance: I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me.

[chronicowboy]

Hiiii i finally watched the old guard and akxjnejx i loved it!! Its so so good! Could you maybe rec me some blogs that post tog?

ahhhhhhh it's amazing isn't it??!

some purely tog blogs: @togsource and @of-scythia

mainly tog blogs: @dearpatroclus (they're the most valid person ever, amazing writer/artist)

[perenial]

dearpatroclus here the talk about rina has summoned me and first of all bees and honey is also one of nicky's faves both for the nature of their job and because the unhinged screaming in the bridge is just his favorite thing ever, and may i also posit that joe loves tokyo love hotel for the vibes

extremely valid takes from tumblr user courtney @dearpatroclus tonight ladies and gays

[emjee]

many JoeNicky fic ideas including things to do with sea shanties and also the Ariana Grande song “34+35” (shoutout to @dearpatroclus for both indirectly alerting me that this song existed and also making the TOG connection) on top of other fic ideas I already have on the list

maybe THIS week I will actually have the energy to write them, because my plans for last week were thwarted by existential exhaustion

[trans-snart]

@dearpatroclus the fact that you immediately knew exactly which song and which gay 30-somethings i was talking about...... thank you

listening to pop music primarily can be pretty funny sometimes when it comes to fandom bc everyone always seems to have these deep and beautiful lyric sets and playlists, meanwhile my brain worms are like "ah yes, this One Direction bop about having a raging morning boner for a vaguely described girl is the perfect fit for these gay 30-somethings 😌"