#roman hold my hand ill take you out of there !!!!!

[nandysparadox]

sorry i saw someone talking roman angst and remembered im obsessed with this guy

[cryobabiess]

girldad!geta pleeease!

Filia Divina

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Wife!reader

Tags: childbirth, pregnancy, miscarriage mentioned, implied infanticide, soft!geta (if you squint), historically accurate practices, NOT BETA READ SO IF YOU SEE SOMETHING WONKY NO YOU DIDN’T, good ole fashioned misogyny

AN: Tollere Liberos is in reference to an ancient Roman tradition where a father decides whether or not to accept a newborn as their child. Rejected children were abandoned via ‘expositus’ (aka dead ass just leaving a baby out in the wilderness). So basically girldad!geta but historically accurate lol. Enjoy!

It had only been an hour since you birthed her—a sweet little creature with curls the color of honey and supple skin like the flesh of a ripe plum. With a mighty wail fit to be heard across an empire, she came into the world. Your goddess, Juno, generously granted her the health and strength you prayed for. You rejoiced, though your joy was not shared.

The midwives cleaned your daughter in grave silence, save for the whispers of the politic-men gathered to witness the birth of Rome’s divine son. They huddled together in the far corner of the chamber as your girl laid against her mother’s chest for the first time.

“It cannot be true—look again!” Geta frantically commands the weary doctor. He paces across the marble floor in a state of distress. A litany of expressions troubles his face; disbelief, panic, betrayal.

“My lord, it is not what was desired, but I assure you—the child is female. You have my greatest sorrows.” The doctor mournfully bows his head, knowing better than to look the short tempered prince in the eye.

Geta was persistent, diligently sewing his seed in your womb since your holy union. You passed two of his children as blood, and he held you as you suffered through the pain. He watched your body grow when his efforts succeeded, massaged your taut skin with olive oil, and fed you bread soaked in sweet wine when you felt ill. He even kneeled at Jupiter’s alter to call for the safe delivery of his first son and the health of his wife—All these precautions only to be cruelly slighted.

“The gods have punished me, yet I’ve done nothing but bend to their will.” Geta holds his head in disbelief, his devastation made evident by a deep scowl.

Senator Gracchus tentatively approaches your distraught husband, resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“My lord, we must atone for our offenses, whatever they may be. It is a grave misfortune indeed, but your bride—“

Rage ignites across Geta’s face as he pulls away from his constituent’s touch.

“Speak tactfully of your empress if you wish to keep your tongue, Senator.” He seethes through a tight jaw. Gracchus relents, his tone softening considerably. He continues slowly and with caution.

“Two winters have passed since your union, and she has yet to bring forth an heir of Rome. Her body has proved inhospitable. The gods have sent a message, and it would be foolish to turn a cheek—you must heed this omen! ”

Geta takes a moment, carefully considering the senator’s plea for reason. He looks back to you, Obsidian eyes gazing down at the linen sheet that obscures your sleeping child.

“I am a conduit of their will. Tollere Liberos will prevail and the gods will decide through me.” Geta turns to you fully. Your heart becomes heavy in your chest as you search your husband’s face for tenderness, but see nothing but solid stone.

In your dreams, you imagined the day Geta approached his first heir as sweet—that he might kiss your reddened cheeks and proudly claim his child. Never did you think the sight of him would cause you to tighten your grip and cower away. He looms over the bed where you lay, exhausted and perspiring, like a holy monument.

“Show me the child.”

“My love, I beg you—“

“Your emperor commands it.” Geta callously interrupts.

You unwrap your daughter in your arms, trembling hands moving as gingerly as possible. She shifts in her sleep, curling her precious limbs toward her delicate body, but does not wake. Geta’s eyes widen at the sight of her.

“So it is true. My faithful wife’s womb has betrayed me.” His gaze softens. Something stirs behind it, but you are not sure what.

“If you wish to return her life, then be merciful and do the same with mine.” Your heart twists and aches, your love for your emperor becoming a knife in your rib.

To your shock, Geta reaches out to his daughter, takes her tiny fist in his palm, and runs a thumb over her blushing knuckles. She wraps her hand around her father’s finger with a mighty yawn.

You have seldom seen your restless husband become so still.

“She bears your resemblance.” Geta’s voice is but a whisper. His gaze doesn’t stray from her. It appears his heart aches the same as yours.

“And a head of golden hair.” You can only offer an exhausted smile.

Geta takes his daughter into his arms for the first time.

“The gods have spoken!” He declares to the small gathering of senators. Your emperor raises his girl above the laurels atop his head. Some look on with horror, and others with pride.

“She will have my name! It is done.”

As your daughter’s first weeks pass, Geta’s tenderness only grows. In the lavender hours of dawn, you wake to find him cradling her in the crook of his arm. He speaks to her softly.

“Poor girl, you have wounded your father’s pride. My, what tragedy.”

You smile at the sound of her gentle crooning as your husband assuages her back to sleep.

“A son would belong to Rome—but you, dear Septima, will belong to me.”

[m1sa-w1sa]

Can you do all the fatui their react to that y/n was hiding traumatised past and that blaming them self and hide it all , and of course they comfort y/n beaxuse they always help the fauti with their problems

(Okie dokie! Coming right up!)

You are mine and I am yours

Pierro

•He probably found out if you told him upfront or he found you crying someplace

•when he told you spit it out he was shocked it would’ve been torture to go through that

•even if he might not be the best he would try everything that he has to make you feel better

•If it you were dating he would hold you close by your waist whispering nothing but sweetness in your ears

•If platonic he would make you a cup of tea or your favorite dish letting you cry on his shoulder

“Everything is alright dear..”

Capitano

•He would know somethings wrong when you started acting distant, maybe slightly sloppy on missions, more sleepy

•If he saw you crying he would quickly ask whats wrong his mask covering his slight worried expression

•If Romantic he would pull you close wrapping you in his coat with him sitting on his lap or just standing with him

•If Platonic he would take you for a walk maybe get you ice cream or something to eat after to make you feel better making sure to check in with you time to time

“You should’ve told me sooner.”

Dottore

•So you guys had little meet ups when your not with the other harbingers but if you miss that meet up he would go find you himself

•If he saw you in your room he would tilt your chin up as you tell him everything

•If romantic he would stay with you laying your head in his lap while doing his paperwork

•If Platonic he would hug you just really that patting your back soothing you slowly

(Your gonna have to know him for a really ling time for him to act like this towards you)

“Your foolish for not saying anything”

Columbina

•If you two were by each other sides alot she would quickly notice your different personality she would confront you

•When you tell her either platonic or romantic she would sing you a soft lullaby with your head on her lap as she would just caress your cheek softly

“Poor little you why didnt you say anything?”

Arlecchino

•Arlecchini works with kids so its noticed rather quickly

•It doesnt just go away lightly Alrecchibo sits and talks to you

•Romantic she would hold you on her lap letting you talk

•Platonic she would make your favorite food or drink

“You know I care..”

Punichella

I think I spelt his name wrong

• I dont really know how to write for him so ill try my best

•He is kinda like the cool grandpa that gives you good advice so im not going ti do a romantic for him

•He would make you tae and sit and chat with you letting you cry on his shoulder

Scaramouche

•Hes more colder than the others but if your with him most of the time hes going to notice

•When he finds out he would make you speak trying to get every single thing off of your chest, If romantic he would sit and cuddle you, kicking out anyone else that comes in

•A little same with Platonic hut your just next to him holding his hand tightly

“Idiot..”

Sandrone

•Again with her going in depth is a little hard for me but anyways!!!

•She would confront you immediately asking you questions about it

•Both romantic or Platonic she would carry you with her on her robot holding your hard caressing the back of your hand with her thumb softly

“Quite stupid to not say something..”

La Signora

•She loves you lots Platonic or Romantic

•she knows what pain feels like same with Scaramouche

•Either Platonic or romantic she would play with your hair brushing it out, doing different styles, adding accessories anything just to clam you down

“Your hair is tangled”

Pantalone

•So when he found out he would be worried for you

•He would ask you to tell him every single thing you like to tell him

•Both Romanic and Platonic he would take you shopping, spoiling your rotten only difference if romantic he would also take you on dates aswell

“Pick anything you like darling..”

Tartaglia

•He has siblings so he also notices quite quickly so he would find you as soon as possible to sit you down to have a chat

•He would cuddle you for maybe more than a hour as you talk patting your back, caressing your hair

•He would spoil you aswell and if romantic he would take you on dates aswell!!

(Finished!! This was fun but also pretty hard to write but i uope u enjoyed!)

[the-kr8tor]

May I have Bitter Orange in a ⭐ bottle please? The start of R and Hobie being handcuffed together before they turned, with R succumbing to the effects of the virus much faster than Hobie due to his spiderpowers, so for a bit he just watches his love become a husk of who they were before he too is a zombie?

*laughs evily* Yessss I've been waiting for a request exactly like this hwjsjwijsjaj hope you like it!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2k (whoops)

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), description of illness, TW blood, CW injury, TW death, zombie AU, Zombie apocalypse AU. Angst, Hurt/comfort

A prequel to this one shot

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

The air is nice and cool on your face as you walk hand in hand with Hobie in the barren street. There's rows upon rows of abandoned houses, all in different stages of decay from both scavengers trying to survive and time itself proving to be the worst enemy. But it's on your side for now for it has given you infinite time to be with him.

Hobie's hand is suddenly on your scarf, fingers gingerly sliding the fuzzy material up to your chin. He smiles at you, the sun blindingly light behind him. Despite the apocalypse, he still looks just as handsome. He has new shallow scars on his chin where a stubble is slowly growing, hair a bit of a mess but beautiful nonetheless. You've once told him after a lucky find of one whole pound of chocolate pudding that he's apocalypse chic, that he makes the end of the world look good. To which he laughed and shoved a spoonful of chocolate pudding in your mouth. Compared to him you probably look like a mess, you wouldn't know, you've ignored mirrors ever since you ran out of shampoo a few days ago.

“What are you thinkin' ‘bout, gorgeous?” He tugs you closer to him, the crowbar hanging from his backpack clinks against the machete next to it.

“That I really need shampoo, and that you look unfairly handsome in this light.”

Chuckling, he intertwined his fingers around your own. It could mean death for the both of you if the undead suddenly lunges and he doesn't have enough time to take his hand away from you. But he thinks it's alright for him to do, to indulge himself to your touch since the entire place is empty save for a few dead cars and scattered luggages left by people.

“You should see yourself in my eyes, lovie, the greasy hair is doin' a lot for me.”

“Oh yeah? You like it when you pat my head and you get petrol on your hand?”

“We need petrol, d’you think if I bunch up your hair and squeeze it I can collect the oil?”

You nudge him playfully, “you're an ass.”

“Yeah, well, you're stuck with this arse.”

Your mind goes back to your friends and family you've left behind. “Do you think they're okay?”

“'m sure they are, Yuri's got them, and they have Ned, he'll whip them into shape. ‘sides, we're almost at James’, if I was them I'd stay there.” He adjusts his hold on his pack and guitar. “We'll find them.”

You smile, nuzzling his bicep for his own reassurance, knowing that he also worries for them. “You're right. They're probably doing better than us.”

“Yeah,” he pecks the crown of your head. “They're living like kings, I bet.”

You two stop in front of a large house, complete with white marble steps and tall roman columns. “James' dad never had taste, huh?”

Hobie snorts, “his son took all of it. C’mon, then.” He leads you on the porch, trying the door, wishing that it was locked because if it is it means that someone's inside, that they're surviving and waiting for the two of you. To his despair, the door opens without a problem.

Hobie looks back at you having the same expression. “It's okay,” you try to be optimistic, “maybe they left a message for us.”

He nods, “yeah, maybe.” Crossing the abandoned space, he takes his guitar from his back to strum a tune. When he doesn't hear stumbling or any rattling from anywhere inside the house, he continues forward, but his guard is still up. “We might as well get some supplies while we're ‘ere.”

“Yeah, there might be some left in here.” You give him a small smile. “How about we split up? This place is too big, it'll take us forever to comb over this place.”

Hobie considers it for a moment. The place seems pristine except for the furniture and cabinets that are picked clean, so he deems it safe. “Okay, just…” you walk to his side, rubbing his arms, smiling sweetly at him even though he probably doesn't smell the best. “...keep your knife close.”

“I will keep my knife close,” you repeat his words, “and I'll stay alert.” Poking at his chest, you peck the frown off his lips. “And you keep safe.”

He's still apprehensive, but he knows you can hold your own. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you fully, smooching until you're giggling. “We’ll meet back ‘ere in fifteen.”

“Aye, aye, Cap'n!” You mock salute. “Any special requests?”

“Chocolates.”

“I said a request, not wishful thinking.” You tease, he has an urge to kiss you again.

“Towels, the nice fluffy ones.” You slide your hands away from him, to which he already longs for.

“Got it! I bet James has a ton of them.” You wink, knife in hand, walking away from him.

Hobie watches your retreating back, tamping down his anxieties. He searches upstairs, grinning at James' familiar room. His posters and messy floors remain untouched, the bed still looking like it was tossed around by a tornado. He almost cries at the picture frame on the bedside table containing his band's smiling faces plus you who's embracing him.

Turning the frame around, he takes the picture and pockets it to show to you. After rummaging James' room, he takes a few shirts and pants for him and you. He even finds a pair of silk pajamas that he knows you'll love. A piercing scream echoes around the house, he immediately bolts downstairs, heavy footsteps thudding across marble floors.

You're on your back, fighting for your life while the undead on top of you tried to get a chunk out of you. It all stops when Hobie's guitar connects to the corpse's skull in a sickening crunch of metal and bone.

You scramble away, neck and arm in pain. Hobie's wide eyes meet yours just as when the back door bursts open, revealing a whole horde of the undead. Panicking, he yanks you up, holding your hand, running outside to more of the shambling dead.

“Fuck!”

“Hobie!”

“Just hold on!” His hand is tight around yours, you try to run at his pace, panic in your veins, adrenaline in his.

It feels like you've been running forever, Hobie sees an opening hidden in an alley. He can climb on his own without a ladder but you can't. So he leads you towards the empty alley while the rotten, decayed corpses of once human beings run after you at full speed.

Hobie jumps to take down an emergency ladder, without missing a beat, he grabs your waist and throws you on the ladder. You climb, but the pain in your arm gets worse so you're slower but you still try for him.

The undead finally gets to the alley, you don't dare to look down. Once you're on the rooftop, you peek below to see him struggling to get up the ladder, he's halfway with a handful of zombies dangling on his leg.

You scream his name but it's too late, one of the undead has bitten a chunk of his leg as he tries to kick the former human off the ladder where he's desperately trying to climb to. You wish he didn't run out of web fluid, you wish the world didn't end, you wish the throbbing pain on your arm is just muscle spasm, but the warm crimson seeping out of teeth marks says differently.

With a sickly crunch, the zombie falls down the ladder and into the rotten horde. Hobie climbs up quickly back to you, hands immediately grasping on to you.

“Did it get you?!” You yell, still in denial, frantically checking in hopes that his boot saved him. Your heart falls into your stomach at the sight of broken skin, blood staining your fingers where you hold the hem of his trousers away to get a better look. You're frozen on the spot, tears clinging to your lashes. “Hobie,” you gasp, taking off your scarf to make a makeshift tourniquet around and above the bite. “Fuck—!”

“You okay?!” He does the same to you, heaving, ripping off your sleeves like a madman trying to find the secrets hidden in your skin. He prays that he finds none. His eyes widen, terrified, broken hearted, shaking his head, refusing the fact that you're infected. “No,” he shakes his head again, closing the torn up cloth around the slowly rotting wound. “It's just a scratch, love, y-you’re not—”

“Hobie…” you smile bitterly, eyes mirroring his own. He rips the hem of his shirt, using the cloth to wrap it around your arm, just above the wound in an attempt to stop the spread. He ignores the stinging pain on his leg. “Hobie, stop, it's—”

“We can still stop it!” He yells desperately, tying the cloth tightly. “It's just a scratch.”

“Hobie, please.” You hold his trembling hands, “it has been ten minutes.” He refuses, you squeeze his hand weakly, the virus already taking hold. Slowly killing you. “And—” with trembling hands, you show him the gaping bite on your neck, oozing dark decaying blood. He choked on a sob. “B-but there's a chance for you, your abilities might've made you immune—”

“No, if you're goin’, ‘m goin’” He stands up, not giving up on you. “There's a chemist’s ‘ere, maybe if w-we…” he puts on a brave face amidst the impending doom and rotten flesh that stings his nose. “Maybe there's somethin’ there.” Hand reaching down, you smile up at him, orange and pink hues from the sky dancing around your face. “C-can you get up?” His voice breaks, chest heaving. “I can carry you. Don't make me carry you, love.”

You slide your hand onto his own. “Hobie,” your voice is soft above the mindless groaning below. His eyes beg you to move. So you do. “Okay,” with a single word, you bring him hope.

With divided effort, you both make it towards the roof of the pharmacy. He was uncharacteristically silent the whole way, but his hand never left yours. His eyes never met with your wounds that's slowly festering. You feel it inside you, the fever, the virus that's eating at you, spreading throughout your body, gnawing at every bit of your warmth like a seed taking root. Hobie feels it too, he's terrified that you're experiencing it too. It's his worst fears came to life only because he wasn't fast enough.

Opening the creaky door, he hopes that it's devoid of the undead. Like he's not on the brink of eating flesh, he does his usual prep. He strums his guitar softly to attract any walking corpses waiting behind doors, when none comes out, he cracks the door wider. With his torch, he lights up the way. But he doesn't feel your presence behind him.

Looking over his shoulder was a mistake, he finds you hunched over the doorway, groaning quietly, nails clawing at the throbbing wound around your neck. That's the moment he knew that you'd go out before him. For the first time, he curses his gifts.

Slowly, he crosses the distance towards you, shaking hands grasping your shoulders. You're warm, incredibly warm. “Love?” He could cry, but he doesn't want you to see his sorrow.

You sniff, tears streaming down your face from the pain and the tragedy of it all. You've accepted that you were infected, but not him, you'd take the virus from him too if you could. “I'm s-sorry, so fucking sorry. I should've—”

“Oi, none of that, yeah? You're gonna be fine.” He says it to convince himself. “You'll be back on your feet tomorrow and by then we'll see Yuri and the others.” Nodding, he takes you by your arm, careful of making your wounds worse. There's blood sticking to his clothes, seeping through his clammy skin. He hates the fact that it was yours. Bringing you behind the counter, you almost keep over. “I've got you, I've got you.” He says it against your temple like a prayer.

“H-Hobie.” You sob, salty tears marring your pretty face. “I can't— it hurts.” The gnawing feeling gets worse, as if a chainsaw is ripping you apart from the inside. “It's so hot, I–I can't breathe.”

“O-okay, I'll set you down ‘ere, get you comfortable. There's some fever meds over there. It'll help.” His hazel eyes pleads for anyone, anything that'll help you. He helps you sit down, and you immediately lie down on the cold tiles. “Do you want a blanket?”

“N-no,” you're hot and cold at the same time. “I don't know.” You look up at him, he sees the light in your eyes fading. “I don't feel so good, Hobs.”

Hobie could only look away from you, inhaling, exhaling but it doesn't feel like he's breathing right. He kneels down, setting his guitar next to you, palm placed on your forehead. “This is nothing, love.” He tries to smile, but fails. “Remember when you had the flu?” You nod weakly, “you were a fuckin' beast, you beat it on your own in just a few days.”

Even though you feel your heartbeat going faster and then slowing down in a weird rhythm like a heartbeat monitor going haywire, you smile for him. “I was, wasn't I?”

He rubs your bicep, under his touch, he feels your muscle twitch. “Yeah, you still are.”

You chuckle softly, tears sliding down your cheeks and into the cold tiles. “Okay, get me the meds.”

“That's my girl,” laying his forehead atop yours, he hopes that he'll take your pain away with the simple gesture, but it's futile. “I'll be back, I promise.”

“Don’t make me wait.”

Smiling, he squeezes your arm. “Never.” Standing up, he rummages through the entire place for the pills you need. Crouching down to check under the broken shelves, climbing up on the walls to get a bird's eye view, and all the while ignoring his own pain. It's slim pickings, but he manages to find a single bottle of tylenol that has rolled under a shelf, it's not enough, but it'll do.

With a victorious sigh, he quickly makes it to the counter, rounding the corner, he sees you wheezing, catching your breath and with blood leaking out from your eyes and ears. “No, no, no!” He takes you in his arms, making you sit up. “I've got the meds, love. Oi, open your eyes for me.” You crack one eye open tiredly. “That's it, good job.” He almost cries when you smile at him through the thick fog of illness.

“G-good job,” you murmur, he doesn't know if you're delirious or you're congratulating him for finding the medicine.

“Bottoms up.” He brings two pills to your mouth, to which you gladly take. Giving you his canteen, you drink most of it, downing the tepid water. “That's good, see, you're already gettin' better.”

You shake your head weakly, barely opening your eyes. “Thanks to you, Hobie.”

“Yeah, thanks to me.” He tries to joke but it comes out choked when blood still leaks out of your tear ducts. Sitting next to you, he now feels his temperature rise so he takes the same amount of pills as you.

You lay your head on his shoulder, hand shakily reaching towards his own. “I'm sorry.”

He almost breaks down at your apology. “Nothin' to apologize for, love.” Meeting your hand halfway, he intertwined his fingers with yours, you're cold now, frozen under his hold. “D’you want that blanket now?”

“Please,” you wheeze out.

Hobie obliges, taking a thick blanket from his pack and then draping it around you as if it'll protect you from the infection. “There, nice and cozy, eh?”

“Thank you,” he feels your crimson fall down on his collar. “For everything.”

“None of that, Y/N, please. None of that.”

“I still want to talk to you.” Your voice is soft and small. “I still want to stay with you.”

Hobie brings your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly. “And we will be, after this—” a sob escapes from him. “After this, we'll be together, yeah? Just like how we talked about.”

“Forever and ever?”

His tears flow freely, “yeah, forever and ever.” After a beat of silence, he fears the worst. “Love?”

You cough, he sighs in relief. “Still here, Hobs, not leaving yet.”

“Not yet,” embracing you, he lays his chin atop your head, you're made comfortable in his hold. Home, you feel like you're back home in his houseboat, watching a shitty romcom while he rambles on about his patrol. You want to be back there again. He wants to be back there again. “Can I say somethin'?”

You hum into his chest, squeezing his hand tighter but your sickness, he barely felt it.

“I don't want to…” he could barely say it. “I don't want to kill you. ‘m sorry, I know we talked about it—”

You lean up, he's met with milky eyes, he knows you can barely see him now. “Then don't, I don't want you to—” you pause, clinging to humanity. “— to feel that before you go.”

Nodding, he kisses your forehead, crying, weeping into your skin. “I couldn't save you, ‘m so fuckin' sorry, love, ‘m so sorry.” He shakes, you gather enough strength to embrace him and bury yourself in his chest, letting his scent waft around you for comfort.

“Don't apologize, nothin' to apologize for.”

He sniffs, peppering your face with heavy weakened kisses. “Oi, don't use my own words against me.”

You smile against the rough leather of his jacket. “Can I say something?”

“Go,” he can practically see the countdown. “We have all the time in the world, love.” There's something warm leaking out of his eyes and ears. He's catching up to you.

You'd laugh but you can feel your life slipping through your fingers. “When we turn, I don't want us to be separated.”

“What do you propose?” He tries to inhale but he could only let out a sickening cough.

“Tie our hands together…really tight.” Your words fade away, but you still hold on.

“I've got rope here, I can do it now.”

“But I'll turn first, Hobie, I-I might—”

“It'll be my honour to be your first meal.”

“I'd laugh if we weren't dying right now.” Eyes too tired to open, you feel the rough rope around your wrist, and the unmistakable sound of a knot getting tied. You smile for the last time when you feel his fingers wrap around your own. “I love you.”

“How's that? Too tight?” He whispers close, he feels you slipping away, “Y/N? Love?” he breaks down when your hand falls limp around his own. “Not yet, please, not yet.” He holds you, rocking you back and forth like a babe needing to be held. Your heart doesn't beat in sync with his anymore. “C’mon, not yet, we still have to find the rest of the band, right?” His eyes cloud over, cold taking root inside his entire body. “Say somethin’, fuck!” He yells with all his might, “I love you, fuck, please wake up.”

Closing his eyes, he wraps you in what's left of his warmth. “Don't go, please.” Hobie pleads and cries until he can no longer breathe the same air as you. His last thoughts were of you.

[ijustreallylikepirates]

DCASE20 !!!

-“this episode has sensitive topics” that’s not concerning at all odd nation cartoons not concerning at all

-TEAM JAKE LETS GO

-yall don’t wanna hear me cheering for Jake rn

-bruh Emily stop dragging Trevor like that

-EMILY WTH ARE YOU DOING

-WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO THROW TREVOR OFF THE CLIFF???

-bruh Emily I can’t like you girl

-Ally and Jake actually getting along what a miracle

-Riya you don’t deserve that fucking breakfast

-NO WHAT

-JAKE TRIED TO KILL HIMSELF???

-POOKIE WHY

-“very sus of you to say Riya” EEWWWWW

-I can’t stand Riya

-TJ I SEE YOU

-WE LOVE YOU TOMJAKE FANKID

-Riya having a tiny fanbase is wild 💀

-Jake having the biggest fanbase is so iconic

-THE JAKE CHEER???

-LET ME GET IN ON THAT

-LET THEM DO THE FUCKING JAKE CHEER OML

-YEAH JAKE WE LOVE YOU

-OH YEAH ROMAN COLOSSEUM

-WE LIVE WE LOVE WE LIE

- LMAO ALLY GETTING CUT OFF WITH THE BAG IM GONE

-AW DEREK REMINISCING ON HIS TIME WITH TREVOR IN SEASON ONE

-TREVEK PARALLEL???

-I’m so normal about them (I’m not)

-NOT TREVOR IN THE FUCKING TREE IM DEAD

-“aw son of a bi…scuit” you’re gay

-I just made up a trevek kiss chant

-yall definitely don’t want to hear it

-FIORE IN A BUN THATS SO CUTE

-“watch it 😡” eat him up girl pls i hate you too but keep humbling him for your dad

-“I love walking across shaky planks 😅😰” LMAOOO

-the romantic tension between Riya and Yul is insane

-YAY

-I LOVE WHEN YUL FALLS DOWN FROM GREAT HEIGHTS

-what happened to Yul’s burn did shit just disappear???

-YEAH JAKE YOU EAT

-Emily

-the sigh that I just sighed rn is insane

-“my nails are getting callouses 😩😡” are you sure you’re straight honey

-no way these two are just fighting like children rn

-this challenge is giving season 1 finale

-THERE WERENT SUPPOSED TO HE SCORPIONS???

-I’m gonna hunt Emily down

-PLEASE

-PLEASE GET RIYA OUT

-THE WAY YUL SCREAMS MAKES ME GIGGLE I CANT DO IT

-ITS SO FUCKING FUNNY

-why are these two still running with their arms up like npcs wtf

-yul why the fuck did you jinx that

-JAKE???

-JAKE ISTG

-TREVOR AND DEREK THE ICONS

-ICONIC DUO

-EW DEREK THAT LAUGH

-Emily go away stop being a bitch for two seconds

-“and I love him” THE GAYS THE SILLIES THE HOMOSEXUALS

-DEREK LOVES HIM TOO HE BLUSHED HE LIKED THAT KISS

-AW YEAH JAKE YOU GOT THIS

-YEAH GRAN EMILY TAKE HER AWAY

-AW WERE TREVOR AND DEREK HOLDING HANDS

-PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GET RIYA OUT

-IM BEGGING PLEASEEEEEE

-Ally you eat

-I love you girl keep slaying

-JAKE NO

-I HAD FAITH IN YOU DUDE

-I BELIEVED IN YOU

-COME ON HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

-JAIDEN I LOVE THEM

-ALLY THANK YOU FOR LOSING YOUR GEMS

-JAKE I BELIEVE IN YOU STILL

-LETS GO JAKE

-WE WONNN

-TREVOR DEREK KISS RN

-AW THEYRE HOLDING HANDS THE SILLIES ILL EXPLODE RN

-KRISTAL YOU BITCH THEY WERE ABOUT TO KISS

I LOVED THIS EPISODE

JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE JAKE

TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK TREVEK

TEAM JAKE COME ON JAKE LETS GO

[hughiecampbelle]

Succession Preference: Having A S/O With Chronic Illness

Requested: Hiiii love ♥️ You've been working yourself absolutely ragged trying to get content out here, so if you can't get to this that's totally okay, please take the time you need for yourself! If you're still doing requests, could you possibly do what the Roy siblings would be like with a partner that has a chronic illness? If not, all good! Sending love!!! - anon

A/N: Thank you my love, you're too kind!!! I really hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Connor tries his best to help, though he's not that knowledgeable about chronic illness. He thinks that tea and eating right and lots of sleep will help, and maybe it does a little, but it's definitely no cure. Eventually, after the third pot of tea, you have to sit him down and explain that while it helps, maybe, it's not going to get rid of your pain. You know he has the best intentions possible. You've built a routine over the years, a plan of action for when things get bad. Over time he picks up on this and always remains one step ahead of you just in case. Connor has never really dealt with anything like this before, so he has a lot of questions. He can't understand why there isn't some magic pill or shot to make your pain go away completely. You've accepted long ago that there isn't one. It's just how it is. Sometimes it gets to you, but you try not to let the disappointment and frustration control you.

Kendall has no idea how to handle this. He panics when his kids or siblings get sick, so dealing with something that is chronic feels like a beast he can't tame. Before he has the chance to freak out during a flare up and make things worse, you gently talk him down, reminding him that this isn't your first time dealing with this. Afterwards, he kind of relaxes, though he worries whatever he does he's going to make it worse. He becomes scared to touch you, to cuddle, to hold your hand. You have to tell him you're not a porcelain doll, that he can touch you and love you like he always has. He has everything you need in his apartment, asking you for a list of what you use when you're going through it, so that you can ease your pain even when you're with him, so that you don't have to suffer. He checks in with you a lot, wanting to be sure you're not in pain and when you are it's manageable.

Shiv knows exactly how to help during a flare up. She sort of panicked the first time you illness was really acting up in front of her. She wasn't sure what to do, how to help, etc. She never wants to feel that helpless again, so she does a ton of research and reads all kinds of articles on how to help, how she can make it just a bit more manageable for you. She secretly stocks up on pain meds, ice packs, heating pads, the softest blankets she can find, anything that you need to make it hurt less. She can always tell when you're in pain even when you're sure you're hiding it well. She picks on your little tells and, never in a condescending way, reminds you that her apartment is your apartment. If you need to rest, you can always go back to her place. She definitely worries when you're apart, how you're doing, if you're going through a flare up, but she tries not to smother you either.

Roman doesn't really take things seriously. Everything is a joke to him. At first he doesn't really understand when you're in a flare up, how taxing that can be. He thinks if you just pop a pain pill it'll all be okay. It isn't until he sees how tired you are, exhausted from dealing with it, does he realize maybe it's not as manageable as he thought. After that, he's a little more thoughtful. He's very in tune with you. He takes notice of when you're starting to get tired or frustrated before you do, calming you down before you tire yourself out. He definitely goes to Shiv on how he can help because he's clueless. Quietly, so as not to make anything out of it, he'll ask you if you think you can go to the party, gala, jet, etc. Sometimes you can and sometimes you can't, he always understands. Together you and Roman take naps, your head always on his shoulder or chest. It maybe isn't necessary, but you definitely love it.

[the-courage-to-heal]

A personal message:

About a month ago I attempted to take my life. I took an overdose of dose of pills intentionally. I want to share the story of what I went through. When I arrived at the hospital a nurse told me I could keep my phone “if I didn’t cause trouble” I called my Mom and softly cried. I was told

“I thought you said you wouldn’t cause any trouble”

 I came to realize trouble meant making any noise. I immediately offered to quiet myself. That wasn’t good enough. I was told that I was not allowed to have access to my cell phone anymore. Despite the fact I apologized for crying, and immediately said I understood and would quiet myself.

The nurse advanced on me and attempted to wrestle my phone from my hands. Apparently you are allowed to physically assault somebody if you are a nurse. I want to emphasize all I did was offer to quiet myself immediately. I apologized for crying. That wasn’t good enough.

By this point I was incredibly triggered. I said I wanted to leave, and for good reason this is obviously not something you can do after attempting suicide. They were right to call in people to restrain me. However, these people would have never been called in if the nurse had shown me a shred a basic human empathy, decency and kindness. she enjoyed inflicting pain upon someone who was vulnerable.

What was wrong was them continuing to restrain me to the point I was severely bruised. I can only document in photographs what was done to me.

I fought at first, but very quickly submitted. A man held my face down into the mattress. I told him I couldn’t breathe. He kept holding my face down until I was hyperventilating, and about to pass out. I kept saying I could not breathe. They didn’t believe me until I was hyperventilating and in the process of suffocating. I was genuinely terrified they were going to suffocate me. Right when I was about to lose consciousness they finally released me.

However, my torture was not done. They tied my hand up above my head. I explained they were tearing muscles. I spent at least 10 minutes sobbing and begging them to tie me up n a way that wouldn’t physically harm my body.

They finally relented when I pointed out that tying a persons head above their arms was a form of torture that the Romans inflicted upon people they crucified. That is what it took for them to stop torturing me. They could have done whatever they wanted to me. 

I heard the same nurse abusing another patient the next morning. She told a man involved in a drunk, driving accident.

“Your problem is at the bottom of a bottle”

I looked at the nurse who was watching over me and said,

“That is cruel, they are mentally ill. Their problem is that their pain is now hurting other people. Not at the bottom of a bottle.”

That is beyond cruel. She might as well have told him to kill himself and make the world a better place by decreasing the surplus population.  I met somebody who is the living embodiment of Ebeneezer Scrooge.

If I learned anything from this experience, it is that strength has to come from within yourself because nobody will give a sh*t if you don’t care about yourself. People use you, and abuse you when you are most vulnerable.

“Help” exists for those who can pay for it. Everyone else is just surplus clogging up the system.

I have not posted a photo of myself for a very long time. I have been overwhelmed. I have neglected this blog. But I want to use my voice so other people can hear what I went through and maybe it will help them to continue going when all hope seems lost. The United States has an appalling system, that punishes the mentally ill. People dealing with suicidal ideation are human beings. They are no less deserving of respect and kindness. The most fragile among us deserve the greatest protection. Not to be feasted on by crows pecking at their corpse. I hope at the very least I have created a safe space with this blog.

[beanghostprincess]

Every time I see your sanuso posts rhghhhgg I love this ship thanks for feeding me content. I just feel like I need to share my thoughts now lol

Sanji having to accept he has feelings for a *man*. In like a "oh fuck this has never happened before what the shit" way cause he's scared and doesn't know what to do and doesn't want to fuck up and it's really hard to accept these feelings for him and just as a part of him.

Also just him spacing out to think "why him of all people" cause Usopp is really just a silly little guy a small silly guy he is so silly and simple AND YET...

While Usopp struggles with his self-image and accepting himself as well. It's not Water 7 bad. But it's there. He's trying his best to become stronger. But he can't help thinking about all the times he might have caused trouble for the crew. And he brushes them off with jokes or excuses. Or if he's genuinely at fault he apologizes. But the feelings are still there. Bottling up.

Sanji somehow figures out, whether just by looking at the sniper who's in a bad mood or by overhearing his drunk/half-asleep thoughts and goes "nuh-uh" and showers him with nice words and maybe a snack to cheer him up and oh my god he is so terrible because it's so hard for him to say "I love you" because it sounds weird and he doesn't want to sound romantic because he's still in denial and tries his best to avoid anything that may be interpreted as anything but platonic which leaves him with lack of much needed words.

And then Usopp notices Sanji's struggle to speak and lets go of his sadness to make fun of the cook (kinda) for his approach and then just easily tell him "Love you too" and give him a big hug and just stay like this for a while. And Sanji being a completely touch starved loser he is just has to prevent himself from hugging Usopp tighter. He doesn't care if sniper takes it the wrong way, he's just genuinely worried he will crush him if he does he knows he might.

And also the fear of telling Usopp when Sanji eventually does come into terms he's in love. Like that's gotta be the most nerve-wracking experience at the time.

Everything goes well tho they hug and hold hands and smooch and do boyfriends stuff and then the crew found One Piece and Luffy became king of pirates and everyone made their dreams come true and everything was good the end.

sanji is just like me fr repressed bitch i love him so much so much so much-

this is so sweet and it captures their characters perfectly!!! i'm actually such a fan of sanji's struggles with saying "i love you" despite one of his love languages being words of affirmation (i mean the first one is obviously acts of service). and also usopp struggling with his self-worth is always something that makes me cry,,,

this is exactly why water 7 is sanuso shippers' roman empire. they're literally perfect.

and i'm glad you like my posts!!! i'm mentally unwell!!! they make me ill!!!! i'm insane <3

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Do it all the Time

(Pleaverse short)

Chapter 10: Plastic Prophylactics

(phone text formatting only available on AO3, please turn off creator workskin if you don't like the texting style and want to read on AO3)

Words: 2,409 Content Warnings: Makeouts Characters: Virgil, Logan Ships: Analogical Rating: M Genre: Nonsense, Fluff Additional Tags: Fake Fangs as Vampire Condoms, PWPWP

“So you’re serious about this,” Virgil asked hesitantly, holding the plastic coffin with a delicate disgust as he held them a safe distance from himself.

“Yes. For my safety. You are a predator of my species, and if we get carried away, I would like the insurance that there will be no consequences that I am unsure I can handle.” Logan nodded, pushing the fangs towards Virgil gently.

“L, I know I bit Roman by accident, but I promise I won’t bite unless you ask me to,” Virgil tried to reassure him, looking at the hollow plastic fangs in the case warily.

“And this lets me ask without any unfortunate venom contact,” Logan pointed out, and Virgil paused, thinking about it. The original intention was to just not bite, but that was tempting. “Is there something that you are not communicating that you are hesitating for?” He asked instead.

“I’m just really not sure if they’ll fit, and I’ve never done anything like this before,” Virgil said quietly. Also kind of grossed out by the idea of covering his fangs for some reason, but that felt irrational.

“The only way to find out if they fit is if you put them on, Virgil,” Logan reminded him calmly, pushing the fangs towards him again.

“Right, yeah,” Virgil muttered and cracked open the case labeled ‘werewolf fangs’, looking at the four little fangs inside of it. He picked out an upper fang and looked at the inside, then slid it over a fang. It didn’t go all the way on because his own fang was longer, but it seemed like it would fit well enough. The same went for the lower, smaller set of fangs. “Do they have to be called werewolf fangs, though?” Virgil joked with a small laugh, and Logan smiled affectionately, passing over the mug of hot water with the molding plastic in it to fit them on.

He helped portion out a little bit of plastic on the fang rim, and Virgil worked it up him gums with a crawling discomfort. Something over his fangs felt profoundly wrong. All four fangs were fitted on over Virgil’s fangs in short order, and Virgil clacked his teeth a few times to make sure they wouldn’t fall off. It took all the molding plastic they had, but they made the ill-fitting fangs stay on.

“How is the fit?” Logan asked, tilting his head to watch.

“Questionable, but probably good enough? If we do this another time, I think just getting a lot more molding plastic and covering them manually will fit tighter,” Virgil answered, talking a little oddly around the thick plastic fangs.

“That didn’t occur to me. I’ll consider that for the future,” Logan stated, looking contemplative for a moment. “I suppose the best way to check the fit is to test them,” he added with a smile, the playfulness leaking slightly into his tone.

Logan leaned in and Virgil smiled back, closing the gap and kissing him, supporting Logan as he came in to press against Virgil. Virgil shifted closer to Logan and wrapped him up in his arms, just trying to ignore the foreign sensation in his mouth in favour of his body heat and soft lips pressing into his own.

They took it slow at first, like they always did. Logan needed time to get comfortable kissing. Logan explained why, but Virgil didn’t really need justification for Logan’s comfort. He liked taking it slow. It was fun to slowly tease and warm someone up. Humans lately seem in such a rush, and forcing them to slow down to enjoy something was fun, too. Though that generally happened more with Roman than Logan.

While they kissed gently, Logan’s hands seemed to relish the feel of Virgil’s clothes. Leather seemed to be one of his favourite things to feel, along with lace. Virgil didn’t have any lace today, just the leather jacket over the hoodie. Logan seemed happy to peruse even just one of his favourites, though. He even tugged at the hoodie pull and ran his thumb along the open zipper. Then his hands slipped inside Virgil’s jacket and played with the distressed shirt. Virgil mostly kept his hands in the same spot, wrapped around his torso and pulling Logan in on his back. Too much motion on Virgil’s part could be overstimulating for Logan, so he waited for Logan’s signal that he was okay with it.

After Logan had felt literally every piece of clothing Virgil wore, he picked a hand on the hoodie at the back of Virgil’s neck and another on the leather jacket and pulled in closer to deepen the kiss. Virgil’s fingers tensed as he tentatively opened his mouth, still feeling off from the gross plastic in his mouth slide along the inside of his lips. Logan hesitated, feeling Virgil tense up and backed away, hands slipping back over Virgil’s body to the front.

Virgil took in a deep breath and softly said, “the plastic is just uncomfortable, livre bien-aimé, it’s not about you.”

Logan’s fingers gripped at the front of Virgil’s jacket, and he looked down, eyes squinting in thought. There was a long pause before he looked up again, eyes landing on Virgil’s lips, where he often looked when they talked. “That is a silly term of endearment,” he stated simply, maybe not ready to talk about it yet.

“Why? You’re my favourite book,” Virgil said, reaching up to stroke Logan’s cheek with his hand. His other hand grabbed the back of Logan, brushing his fingers gently along the skin. Logan had soft hands and soft skin, it was easy to slide across anywhere. “I could read you again and again and never get tired,” he whispered, leaning in softly and humming out a low note. Logan shivered under his fingers and started to loosen up. Virgil approached almost all the way to return to kissing him, letting Logan close the last centimeter to continue.

“Words being written all over someone’s face is a phrase. What are you reading?” Logan asked quietly, staying just as close as they were before.

“The secret evil language of the body,” Virgil joked, pressing his forehead to Logan’s and pushing slightly with his hand. He eased Logan down with the other, and Logan let him push him down to the bed as he spoke.

“Ah. The one language I haven’t mastered,” Logan joked in return. “What does my body say right now?” He asked quietly.

Virgil stopped to listen, feeling the pulse under his fingertips and sweeping his gaze over the body beneath him. “Concerned, curious, a little restless…” Virgil trailed off as his hand slid down Logan’s chest, making Logan’s heart race even faster. “Mostly excited,” Virgil breathed, Logan’s throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Not a traditional sentence, is it,” Logan mused, eyes settled on the sagging neckline of the hoodie dangled above him. “I’m not sure whether that counts as a book.”

“Well, I can turn it into a sentence, but I think that’s a little… excessive.”

“Is that so? Provide an example.”

“Sure.” Virgil grinned evilly. “You would really like my hands wrapped around your body and my lips wrapped around—”

Logan’s face darkened with blood and his eyes widened. “Point taken.” He took a stabilizing breath and reached up to tug at Virgil’s long braid, slipping his fingers between the weave. “What does your body say, then?”

“The same thing it’s always saying.”

“And that is?”

“I would really like to bite you,” Virgil whispered, pressing down on Logan lightly.

Logan’s whole body tensed, the blood pounding under his thin skin. “Sometimes you make it easy to forget you’re a predator,” Logan mumbled playfully. “But it’s fascinating that the idea is enticing to me,” he whispered, reaching his hand back around Virgil’s head and pulling him in for a kiss.

With Logan pinned underneath Virgil’s body, the kiss heated faster than the gentle teasing before. They stayed pressed together, Logan’s hands gripped on a leather belt of the jacket around Virgil’s back, keeping him close. Virgil had one hand holding himself up and another stroking Logan’s chin and neck as they kissed. Logan tentatively opened his mouth once more, and Virgil followed suit. He suppressed the reaction to the fang prophylactics this time, and their tongues met.

Precious minutes passed to the sound of Logan’s pounding heart. They both took their time enjoying the moments passing, at least it seemed that way from the way Logan refused to loosen up his grip. Virgil hummed every time Logan pulled away for air, making his eyes soften each time. Logan seemed to be existing in a pleasant haze, and there were no more flashes of his eyes towards the clock on the wall. Logan even took off his glasses after a few minutes of them getting covered in Virgil’s waterfall of hair.

Virgil flinched back when a fang fell out, the sensation feeling generally something that should be fully illegal. He held up a finger and pulled back while he used his tongue to position the fang covering back into place, and snapped his jaw a few times to test it before returning to kiss Logan, who patiently waited the whole time.

Logan looked at him curiously, and seemed to check the integrity of Virgil’s fangs with his tongue. That was probably a worse sensation than the feeling of the plastic slipping off. To have something press on them and feel nothing. It felt like missing one of his senses. But this was temporary. Hopefully. Virgil gritted through it and focused on enjoying Logan instead, and it didn’t feel like long until he was able to ignore it and lose himself in his boyfriend instead. Actually, they were running out of time until Patton was supposed to swing by.

Thankfully, by the way Logan was wrapped around his neck and kissing him, he didn’t seem bothered by that fact. If he could even tell. He was busy tugging at Virgil’s braid and necking, so being distracted would be understandable.

The next time Logan pulled away to breathe, his eyes fought to focus on Virgil’s mouth again, and through heavy breaths, he let go of Virgil’s braid and hedged his neck to the side on the bed. A second later, he tapped his neck twice and jerked Virgil forward by the hoodie. Virgil fought to keep his control, the smell of Logan’s blood hitting against Virgil’s restraint like a freight train. He stopped breathing, and the sound of Logan’s ragged breath and heart pounding all he could hear. He was so weak, and willing, and…

There was a sound of the bed sheet tearing, and Virgil looked over Logan’s shoulder to see he accidentally dug his nails into Logan’s bed and tore up the sheets. Well, those need replacing. Logan didn’t seem to notice, just tapping at his neck again. Feeling like an idiot for ripping the sheets worked, at least, and Virgil was able to hold back, leaning in to bite Logan gently on the neck. His fangs shifted in the plastic casing, and it seriously felt repulsive. More revulsion than Virgil even realized he could feel at that moment. But the way Logan reacted was the opposite of that, and left him feeling very conflicted.

Logan pushed Virgil back, and Virgil sat up right away, giving him his space. After reaching blindly for his glasses, Logan grabbed his phone and started typing on the screen.

“Everything okay, Logan?” Virgil asked quietly, wondering if maybe it was also a deeply conflicting situation for Logan.

Virgil’s phone pinged, and it pulled it out of his jacket pocket.

‘[🙅‍💬],’ from Logan ’s phone showed up as the latest alert.

Logan must have gone non-verbal, but thankfully not so much he couldn’t even send an emoji.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, was that too much?” Virgil asked, looking Logan over for any obvious problems before looking back down at his phone.

‘[✔][👌💓💦][🧛‍🔥♨],’ alerted on his phone as the next message from Logan with a pitch of transmission.

Virgil stared at them for a moment, trying to pull his brain back from the idea of draining all the delicious blood from Logan’s veins. He smacked himself in the face a few times to try to think it through.

“It was too much, but you liked it, right?” Virgil asked, and Logan nodded to confirm. “But this last bit, you want to cook vampires in a pot or something?”

Logan made a choking sound and shook his head, looking back down at his phone.

‘[🧛‍]=[🔞🥵],’ was Logan’s response a moment later.

“Oh. Well, that message was transmitted with body language already,” Virgil teased, and Logan rolled his eyes. He offered his hand to help Logan sit up, and Logan took it, still keeping his space. “So… you were a little more compatible with the concept than you first thought?” He confirmed.

Logan nodded furiously at that one, grabbing his blanket to wrap himself up. He flung it over his shoulders and leaned back against the wall. He took a breather, eyes closed for a few moments. Then opened up his eyes and smiled at Virgil. Then his eyes seemed to catch the rip in the sheets, and he faced Virgil with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, sorry. What color do you want? I’ll get a new one and wash it before your bedtime, promise,” Virgil offered sheepishly, and a fang fell off in his mouth. Virgil shuddered and ripped another hole in his jeans. He wanted to melt this fucking plastic triangles.

That seemed to earn another odd look from Logan, and he focused on his phone again to see the reply.

‘[🟦],’ came up on his alerts first, probably wanting the same dark blue he currently had, and ‘[👨‍⚕🧣❔],’ arrived on Virgil’s phone a second later from Logan.

“Oh, TV time outside of your schedule? Aren’t we feeling extra naughty today,” Virgil teased, opening up the app to get the sheets delivered. Logan adjusted his glasses and shrugged lightly out the corner of Virgil’s eye. “Sure, let’s watch the doctor. Do you think you could handle cuddling now?”

Logan nodded, and Virgil hopped off the bunk to grab Logan’s laptop off the desk for him to watch Doctor Who on. He climbed back up and sat back against the wall, letting Logan choose where he was comfortable sitting. After Logan set up the show, he leaned on Virgil’s arm, entwining his fingers with his own.

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Fun fact! Leo x Echo is my favorite noncanon ship, they would've been much better than Caleo tbh -Danny Words: 2,148 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Cloud 9' -by Paravi

VI: I Can't Beat the Simping Allegations

"Who did you see in Nemesis, Ara?"

The question is so straightforward it catches her off guard. Leo is allowed to ask that kind of stuff, but at the same time, he should shut up and mind his business.

"Aunt Rosa was the one who kicked you out, right?" Ara asks back.

Leo makes a face. "Yeah..." he moves on to Hazel so Ara can't keep asking about Aunt Rosa. "What Nemesis said about your brother..."

"Nico," Hazel's voice cracks. "He found me in the Underworld. He brought me back to the mortal world and convinced the Romans at Camp Jupiter to accept me. I owe him for my second chance at life. If Nemesis is right, and Nico's in danger... I have to help him."

Ara wants to help Nico, even if they have a complicated history. She doesn't hate the boy like that. "He probably never mentioned me..."

"I think he did," Hazel replies. "Sometimes he'd talk about people he met throughout the years, he'd mention this girl a lot... Lily Saggio. He said she's Italian too."

"That's our best friend," Ara responds. "She understands your brother better than anyone else."

"You're Birdy, right? That's how he calls you," Hazel gives her a sympathetic smile. "He respects you."

"What? Really?" She frowns.

Is Ara the only one holding onto the past? Or was Nico keeping things hidden because he couldn't give the context to Hazel? The truth is, she avoided him for a whole year thinking it was the only way to keep a civil relationship, and now she doesn't really know him.

If they rescue him, maybe they should talk without getting defensive, maybe he'll surprise her in a good way.

"Ara, stop threatening to hit Nico with your book!"

"Then tell him to stay on his side!" I whine. "His stupid jacket is too big..."

I glare at Nico. We found him in this weird farm that's placed above a labyrinth's entrance, and for some reason, everyone thought it was a good idea to sit me next to this jerk.

We're trying to ignore each other, but at some point, he starts to squirm and insists he has important business to attend to with the owner of this dumpster, Geryon.

"He's good at making clothes? Is he going to cut your jacket in half so you stop looking like a dwarf?" I taunt him. "Can't even see your hands in that..."

"I'm not talking to you," he clenches his jaw.

"Lily's worried about you. You left without saying a word, and she's your friend."

"She thinks my father will kill her if I get hurt," he corrects me.

I frown. "So she deserves to fear for her life because of your tantrum?"

"My sister dying is not reason enough to be mad?" He turns to me with angry dark eyes.

"I didn't say that. I'm just telling you how Lily feels. It'd be nice if you went back to camp, but you can stay here and die for all I care."

"Ara!" Percy looks at me in shock from his cart. "Don't say that!"

I look away and sink into my seat, sulking. 

Nico's voice is a little quieter this time. "You're still training?"

"Obviously," I glance at him with disdain. "You're still a shitty swordsman?"

His face turns red. "The labyrinth is above your skills, but if you die, you and Percy will get what you both deserve."

"Nico!" Annabeth gasps.

"You're a crybaby and an idiot who follows the ill advice of dead men!" I bark.

Everyone's looking at us from their carts unable to stop our argument. Nico and I continue to fight each other all the way to Geryon's place.

Ara sees some boulders ahead. "There, let's take a look..."

She reaches the top easily, Hazel climbs after her and Leo is the last one to go up, but he slips and both girls reach out simultaneously, leaving them in an awkward position with Leo's face only a few inches apart from theirs.

"Um, thanks." 

He lets go of Hazel's hand first and uses Ara's to steady himself. That should give her some reassurance, but it only increases her torment, because she can feel the anxiety coming from him. They cannot stay there huddled together without risking one of them slipping again, so she slips forward.

"I'll check the other side."

"Wait, you don't know—"

"It's my job," she says, eyes darting away so she doesn't have to look at him.

Ara's so distracted by her feelings that she doesn't see the young girl beside her, even though the girl makes a huge effort to be noticed. It's only until Hazel and Leo start talking again that Ara realizes she's there.

"...Cursed boy she mentioned." Utters a voice beside her.

Ara draws Almighty out of instinct. When she points it in the direction of the voice, she finds a young girl, wide-eyed and petrified. "Who are you?" She points the sword at the girl's chest. "Step back!"

"Step back," the girl raises her hands in surrender and stumbles backward.

"Ara? What is it?" Hazel tries to focus her gaze. "Wait, is that a person?"

"A person," the girl shakes her head miserably.

"Are you the cursed kid Nemesis mentioned?" Leo's brow furrows. "But you're a girl."

"You're a girl."

"Excuse me?"

"Excuse me."

"You're Echo," Ara studies the girl. "You came back! So you can't be a nymph, right? Nymphs don't have souls—Was I wrong to believe you were—?"

"Ara, she can't answer you," Leo slips down the boulder to join them, and Hazel follows suit. "You can't, can you?"

"Can you," the girl shakes her head again.

"What are you doing here?" Ara continues with the interrogatory anyway. "Nemesis's cursed boy... Is it him?"

"Him," Echo's eyes glisten with longing.

"Oh." Ara turns to the others with newfound energy. "I know who's guarding the celestial bronze."

Nymphs are always fighting over a random dude.

"Alright, ladies, make room!" Ara uses charmspeak. "The faster we do our job, the faster you can go back to staring..." her voice quivers when she spots him. "At your man."

Leo sneaks his way through and whistles lowly. "Dang."

"He's gorgeous," Hazel breathes out.

"I am," the young man in front of them sighs dreamily. "I am so gorgeous."

"To die for," Ara hums in agreement, but she's looking at him like he's a mythical creature, which he kind of is. "Is he glowing?"

She realizes too late that's his soul light, therefore the others can't see what she's seeing, but they don't get confused with her ask anyway, because they're too distracted by the man's looks.

"It's the reflection of that thing," Leo scowls at the celestial bronze in the water.

Ara crouches next to the young man like she's dealing with an endangered species: Mister Universe, the last of his kind.

"How is your hair shiny yet not greasy?" She asks quietly, mostly to herself. "I'm sure you haven't bathed in centuries but you don't smell so bad—And don't get me started on your skin! That jawline—"

"Ara, you know who this guy is?" Hazel interrupts her.

"Narcissus," Ara's eyes are fixed on him. "He's what some of my siblings wish they were." She grins, and her expression only means trouble. "Watch this..."

The girl dips her finger in the water distorting the surface. Narcissus tries to push her away, but he misses and only grazes her shoulder, too desperate to find his reflection again. Ara laughs and reaches out again, but Hazel stops her.

"Wait—What's going on here? Why did Echo bring us here?"

"Echo was a nymph like us," one of the fangirls replies with contempt. "A long time ago, but she was a total chatterbox! Gossiping, blah, blah, blah, all the time."

"A nymph?" Ara frowns. "So was I wrong to assume—"

"Ara, focus," Hazel prevents her from derailing.

Ara dusts off her hands, gets up, and looks around trying to find a solution. She can tell this crowd won't make it easy, they want the cute guy to stay. Leo takes her place next to Narcissus while the nymphs keep arguing with each other.

"So, Narcissus. What's up?"

"Could you move?" The young man says without looking up. "You're ruining the view."

Leo turns to Ara as if asking Can you believe this guy? then leans forward to inspect the celestial bronze lying at the bottom of the pond. Ara can't help but compare the young men: Next to Narcissus, her boyfriend is a run-of-the-mill dude, Narcissus's features are masculine and chiseled, while Leo's are ordinary and childish.

However, to her, Leo's are familiar and more human. The sunshine bounces off the water's surface and hits his face in a way that reminds her of their soul light, his curls are a mix of copper red and golden that resemble the colors of a campfire. Even while standing beside Narcissus, Leo still holds all of Ara's attention.

It doesn't take away from the fact that he's not placing boundaries on Hazel, so realizing how deeply in love she is, is only frightening her even more.

"Right, great view," Leo looks back at Narcissus. "Happy to move, but if you're not using it, could I just take that sheet of bronze?"

"No. I love him. He's so gorgeous."

Leo looks back at Ara and her only reply is a shrug. This is the bronze they ought to take, and the sun is already setting.

"Man," the boy tries again, this time annoyed. "You do realize that you're looking at yourself in the water, right?"

"I am so great," he reaches down to touch his reflection, then decides against it. "No, I can't make ripples. That ruins the image. Wow... I am so great."

"Yeah," Leo says through gritted teeth. "But if I took the bronze, you could still see yourself in the water. Or here..." he pulls out a little mirror from his tool belt. "I'll trade you."

"Hernán Cortés would be so proud of you," Ara murmurs. 

The boy looks up in outrage. "Ara, don't ever say that to me."

"Even you carry a picture of me?" Narcissus glances at the mirror before going back to the pond. "I don't blame you. I am gorgeous. Thank you." He grabs the small item and puts it aside. "But I already have a much better image. The color flatters me, don't you think?"

"I'm starting to suspect Narcissus isn't the brightest flower in the pond," Ara says sarcastically.

Echo sits beside the young man, hopelessly trying to make him look away for just a moment. Hazel pulls Leo and Ara for a private talk, and they gather away from the nymphs. Echo joins them sadly.

"Can't you just charmspeak him into giving us the piece?"

"Narcissus is too in love with himself to fall for my words. And the nymphs want him to stay, they won't listen to reason. But I got a sword and I know how to knock people unconscious?" Ara offers.

"Maybe that's our best bet. Nemesis was right," Hazel replies, almost as upset as Leo was a few minutes ago. "Some demigods can't change their nature. Narcissus is going to stay there until he dies again."

"No," Leo says with surprising determination.

"No," Echo repeats earnestly.

"We need that bronze," he presses. "If we take it away, it might give Narcissus a reason to snap out of it. Echo could have a chance to save him."

"A chance to save him," the nymph nods keenly.

"It could also make several dozen nymphs very angry with us," Hazel points out. "And Narcissus might still know how to shoot his bow."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Ara responds. "His arrows are brittle, and the string of his bow won't work properly, it's too old."

"How do you know that?" Hazel asks with surprise.

"Because I have eyes," she raises a brow. "And my friend Lily is an archer, I know how bows and arrows are supposed to look like when they're in good condition."

"Hazel," Leo continues, his eyes brightening. "Your power with precious metal—Can you just detect it, or can you actually summon it to you?"

"Sometimes I can summon it. I've never tried with a piece of Celestial bronze that big before," Hazel ponders. "I might be able to draw it to me through the earth, but I'd have to be fairly close. It would take a lot of concentration, and it wouldn't be fast."

"Be fast," Echo says excitedly.

Leo curses under his breath. He's got the broadest repertoire of bad words Ara has ever heard, and Michael tended to use pretty strong language on the daily.

"All right. We'll have to try something risky. Hazel, how about you try to summon the bronze from right here? Make it sink through the sand and tunnel over to you, then grab it and run for the ship."

"But Narcissus is looking at it all the time!"

"All the time," Echo pouts.

"That'll be my job," Leo makes a face. "Echo, Ara, and I will cause a distraction."

"Distraction?" Echo repeats.

"I'll explain," he assures her. "Are you willing?"

"Willing," the nymph nods.

"Doll?" He asks Ara making use of his cute puppy eyes.

It's not fair that he's got her wrapped around his finger like this. Usually, she's the one who makes others do stuff for her by pouting and being cute.

"Just tell us your plan," she sighs in defeat.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Daniello is outside the door when Marsilio rides up performing perfectly, as Daniello so often does, his role as younger brother. He is petulant, his arms crossed, he jabs a finger at Marsilio as he dismounts: ‘You’re late.’ ‘There was a crowd at the Roman Gate, it took longer than expected. Then someone had a crises on the old bridge which caused everyone and their mother to hold up. A woman said she saw demons, someone said: here’s a priest and pointed at me.’ ‘And had she seen demons?’ ‘I don’t think so, but I had someone fetch her parish priest. He’ll know better than I.’ Daniello mollifies, scuffs the earth with his toe then bounds up the stairs after Marsilio who has discharged his horse to Verochio. ‘Have you heard about my lions?’ ‘I have not,’ Marsilio replies, divesting himself of riding cloak. His lyre he places on the table. ‘Has your son cleaned them?’ ‘They came to life not three days ago.’

Marsilio’s hands press into the firm wood of the table. The long dead tree beneath finger, he thinks of how deep its roots must have travelled to suck up nutrients of the earth. Exhale. ‘Came to life?’ he asks, smiling in his feint way. ‘How so?’ ‘Came to life-came to life,’ Daniello replies. He accepts the wine Ferdinanda provides. Marsilio’s housekeeper whispers, ‘He was after me to send for you all this week’ and Marsilio murmurs, ‘thank you’ and she bows, leaves them to it. Daniello waits until she is upstairs before adding, ‘She’s protective of you. It takes a miracle to get her to send for you when you’ve told her no one need bother you.’ ‘I was writing.’ ‘I saw your Cavalcanti and asked him to send for you but he did his puckered-fish routine and wouldn’t hear of it. Said you were ill.’

very normal things are happening in Florence, everyone! October 1478 is going to go super well for Marsilio and his family!!

Giovanni out here like, "leave my weird little priest man alone with his Plato. He needs a Rest."

Marsilio's entire family: SHAN'T

100% Giovanni is the overtaxed in-law. He gets pinot grigio drunk with the other in-laws in a sort of "We're Married to a Ficino" self-help group.

[gabthehistorysimmer]

A journey through the countryside

Warnings: War, fighting, death, talks of starvation and disease. period typical stuff After a few days journey, him and his men were able to reach the first settlement nearby. There lived an old man and his young daughter, who was a fisherman.

"Lord Landen... thank you, for coming to my humble abode. What reason is it for your visit? Have I missed any of my taxes?"

"Of course not, you silly old goose. You've always paid your taxes diligently, no. You are not in trouble," "I have come with good news, I have brought supplies and enough coin for you to last the winter. Recently, there has been talk of the crops being weak this fall."

He handed him over the coins, and the man muttered his thanks. "I hope this will be enough to hold you and your family over" "Thank you, my lord. It's been hard, since my wife fell ill from weakness and hunger... we have grieved her loss since" "I am sorry to hear that.."

He also visited all the other households settled within his land.

"Honey, will you stop laughing?"

However.... on their way back from the trip, they passed through some roman ruins.... and suddenly, were attacked by raiders.

"What was that?" Landen yelled in surprise, as the carriage ran over something...someone?

At first, he could hear nothing but the grunts and yelps of fighting outside the carriage, as Landen held his head against the incoming headache. He felt dizzy from the crash.

His warriors put up a good fight, against the very skilled warriors.

And eventually gained the upper hand.

As the last man fell to the ground, Landen finally left the carriage, but he heard the scuffling of feet.

"Come out! Whoever you are, make yourself present!"

A child, who had been hidden behind the stones, finally came out of their hiding spot. "A little boy?" Landen spoke, surprised. "Hello sir... I'm sorry, I'm no danger to you I promise! Those bad guys were the ones who took me away!"

The kid explained how they used to live in a village, a very nice one. That they had lots of friends, and the villagers worked together and were happy.

But then...

The vikings arrived to the village, and raided their homes. Took the child away from the village, never to see again their mother.

It had been an awful day, but not uncommon in villages up in the north.

Landen, moved by the story, offered for the child to join them. "You'd let me come with you?..." The child seemed scared. "We will take care of you, do not worry. I will find you a good place in our home." "...Alright." They finally accepted. The group moved back to the settlement. PREVIOUS - NEXT

[tyranasauruslex]

How do you see Roman and Lukas acting when they or the other one is sick?

Honestly I think they’re both equally as bad because they both want the other ones undivided attention when they’re unwell but in different ways. 

My mini HC is that Lukas is diabetic due to all the peeing and sweet eating scenes. He has one of those insulin pumps so Roman doesn’t find out until they’re in a “kissing-with-tops-off” type of situation. Due to his dads various illnesses and then death, Roman goes into panic mode the second anyone closes to him has so much as a sniffle, Lukas tries not involve him in his diabetic management. Except when he does find out, Roman becomes militant about making sure Lukas has everything he needs - he’s too young to become a widow. 

Lukas gives the vibe of someone who is very rarely unwell but when he is sick, it’s I-can’t-get-out-of-bed-i’m-probably-going-to-need-to-go-to-hospital type of sickness. Except he’s so used to doing everything himself and not having anyone to look after him he just gets on with it and powers through until he feels better. Secretly, all Lukas wants is to be cuddled and fused over and fed soup until he feels better but he’s never let anyone close enough to look after him. Roman doesn’t make for a very good nurse though and he prevents Lukas from getting any actual rest by constantly poking him to see if he’s still alive. He’s banished to the living room so Lukas can sleep but keeps sneaking back in to monitor Lukas’s aliveness whilst googling various symptoms he believes Lukas has. In the end his tenure as a nurse is short lived when Lukas has to wrestle a thermometer out of his hand. Determined to be useful, Roman piles blankets on top of him and tucks him in, only to find that Lukas rather likes this so he tries a new tactic - cuddling him back to wellness. 

Roman on the other hand takes on the personna of a dying Victorian woman whenever he’s unwell. A sniffle? He’s got pneumonia. Headache? Brain tumor. It’s all born from the lack of attention he received from both of his parents as a child but thankfully Lukas realises that he doesn’t need to buy a funeral outfit just yet. He’s very practical and will administer any medication Roman needs whilst holding Romans hand and assuring him he’s not casket ready just yet. If he actually is unwell then Lukas will work from home and keep a watchful eye over Roman, who will be laying on the sofa convinced he’s at deaths door. 

[nandysparadox]

strawberry ice cream and rescue missions

Pairing: romantic royality; mentioned brotherly moxiety and platonic logicality

Word count: 2311

cw: emotional hurt/comfort; light angst; insecurity; overworking; mentioned unsupportive parents

Summary:

Roman is worried he'll never make it onto stage after all. Patton is worried about his next test.

or

Two times Patton and Roman comforted each other

---

fic for day 2 of @royalityweek!! ill have to admit i may have strayed from the prompt a little bit, but im happy with how this turned out ❤️🩵😊 this is part of the same verse as my previous royality week fics, but can be read separately (ill make a masterpost soon!)

huge thanks to @ivaryn0 for beta-reading!

prompt: family/friendship

Hmm. Should he get more chocolate? Patton wondered, squinting at the lines of chocolate bars that filled the shelves in the sweets aisle. He couldn’t remember if there was still some in the fridge…

Well, he ate chocolate fast, might as well. He picked up a few kit-kats and dropped them in the basket when a ring sounded from his phone. He checked the screen, switching to the messaging app immediately when he saw it was Roman.

just got off work

do you wanna come over?

He blinked. Roman could be spontaneous with plans sometimes, but generally, Patton was the one to host the spur-of-the-moment movie nights between the two of them.

In any case, it's not like he was planning to do anything other than scroll on his phone after he got home. Hanging out with Roman would definitely be a plus.

sure sweetie!😊💖 im at the grocery store rn, do you want me to pick up something for u??

The typing bubble popped up, and it stayed there for about a minute. Patton tilted his head.

ice cream

…

please

Oh. Oh, something was wrong for sure.

A good ol’ ice cream tub was Roman’s go-to when he was feeling down, and that’d certainly explain why he asked to hang out out of nowhere. He couldn’t tell exactly what happened, nothing good for sure, but now he was on a mission.

Operation “cheer up boyfriend” initiated!

Luckily, the ice cream aisle was close to the checkout counter. Patton rummaged around the freezer for strawberry cheesecake, Roman’s favorite, and got three pints for good measure. Of course, making sure to get a bottle of chocolate syrup while in line. After that, it was just a matter of driving to Roman’s apartment.

He might’ve rushed up the stairs a bit too much and his knees definitely paid the price, but darn it he was worried!

He double-checked the apartment number and moved to open the door. Faint music came from behind it, Taylor Swift’s…All Too Well? Oh boy.

“I brought the ice cream, Ro!” Patton said as he entered. Immediately, his eyes flitted to Roman in the middle of the couch. Blankets swaddled him to the point that Patton could barely make out his face. But as he got closer, he saw the tear tracks that trailed down to his chin.

“Oh love,” Patton said, feeling his heart ache at the sight. “Hold on, let me grab you a spoon, ok?”

By the time he was back, Roman hadn’t moved an inch. Patton sat next to him, cracking open the ice cream and plopping the spoon into it.

Roman then proceeded to take the pint and eat it with a ferocity that was kind of impressive.

“…Thanks,” Roman muttered.

“Of course, Ro,” Patton smiled, putting a hand on Roman’s knee, in what he hoped to be a comforting way. “Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, it’s— it’s dumb,” Roman replied, wrapping his arms around his middle. “I’m being dramatic.”

“It’s not dumb, Ro, not if it’s upsetting you.”

Roman sighed. “The cast list for this season’s show came out.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

“Ensemble. Again!” Roman cried, doing mock jazz hands. “I know, I know, I should be grateful I’m in the show at all, and ensemble’s no easy feat of course, but I just thought…”

Roman hunched his shoulders up and let his hands fall into his lap.

“I thought this was going to be the time.”

“I’m so sorry you didn’t get the part you wanted, honey,” Patton said, leaning into Roman’s side. “I’m sure you did your best.”

“I’m starting to think my best just isn’t enough,” Roman let out a hollow laugh. “You know, every time, I tell myself it’s gonna happen, this is gonna be my big break… Maybe it’s just never gonna happen.”

Patton watched helplessly as Roman wound a hand into his hair, pulling. His face twisted in misery. Patton couldn’t bear to see it, the hope crumbling from Roman’s eyes.

“Maybe I’m just gonna be serving milkshakes and cheesecake in a 50s-themed diner for the rest of my life,” he said, bitter. “Great, my parents were right. I’ll never be anyone at all.”

“Don’t say that, Roman,” Patton said firmly. He surprised himself with the sternness in his voice, but he stood by it — he wouldn’t just let Roman be so cruel to himself. “They’re wrong. Of course you’re enough, honey, please don’t let others convince you you’re not, be it your parents or anyone else.”

Roman hummed and something in Patton’s chest twisted at the disbelief in his eyes.

“Ro, listen to me,” Patton pleaded, taking Roman’s hands and squeezing them. “You’re incredible. You’re passionate, and witty, and creative, and dazzling, and none of that hinges on you having the lead role in a show. It doesn’t matter if you’re a waiter, or a superstar, you don't need to measure up to anyone's idea of success.”

Patton smiled, letting go of Roman’s hands to cup his face and brush his thumb across the high of his cheekbone. “You're you. That's enough.” He paused, touching his forehead to Roman's. “You know I love you, right?”

Roman went silent, and with each second that passed Patton got more worried he might’ve said the wrong thing. But then, all of a sudden, he wrapped Patton in a tight hug.

“I love you too,” replied Roman, a quiet chuckle on his lips. Patton hugged him back, crossing his arms over Roman’s back.

When they finally pulled apart, Roman wiped at his eyes, smiling. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Maybe not always,” Patton shrugged. “But I’m sure good at turning around gloomy days! How about I pick up more ice cream and we put on some Disney movies?”

Roman laughed in response, and Patton was so glad to hear it.

Roman sighed as he leaned his forehead against the door, raising his fist to knock for about the third time. Of course, getting into Patton’s apartment hadn’t been the hard part — his roommate was just as worried about him as Roman himself.

The real problem would be getting him to actually leave his desk and put a pause on studying.

“I’m taking a break soon, Logan, don’t worry!” Soon came Patton’s cheerful voice through the door. By the unprompted nature of the comment, he must’ve repeated this line many times before and Roman would guess he’d actually done as he said about… zero of them. “Do you need anything?”

Other options exhausted, Roman supposed he’d just have to go for it.

“Only for you to emerge from your fortress of darkness, my dear,” he said, opening the door.

Fortress of darkness indeed. The laptop screen, about the only source of light in the room, cast a blue tint on the books and papers thrown around the desk. Mugs and cups piled around a forgotten corner of the nightstand. At least the window was open, so Patton must’ve gotten some sunlight in the afternoon.

“…Roman?” Patton squinted at him and tilted his head, swiveling his chair around to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a mission, darling,” Roman declared, bowing. Hopefully, his dramatics would help win Patton over. “ Recruited by your dearest brother himself… and your roomie was kind enough to let me in.”

“Logan,” Patton grumbled, then shot Roman a look of disbelief, eyebrows raised. “Hold on, Virgil sent you?”

Roman strode over to him, tilting Patton’s chin up and gently brushing his raven hair out of his glasses. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and he looked as if he might fall over with a single touch. Roman bit his lip, when had Patton last slept? That wasn’t like him — he barely stayed up late, even on weekends.

“Darling, you haven’t texted your brother in three days. And you know how he gets when he’s worried.” Roman fake shivered, pulling a little giggle out of the other. “When I asked how you were doing this morning, you just sent me a thumbs-up emoji. And Logan says you haven’t come out of here either.”

“I— just,” Patton looked down. “I really need to study, okay? I have a test in a week, and I still have to review the three last units, and memorize all these names—”

“And don’t you think you’ll do better if you give your brain a chance to rest?” Roman raised an eyebrow. “C’mon, you’re taking a nap.”

“What? I can’t, Roman I’m so behind—” Patton protested as Roman pulled him from the chair and herded him towards the bed.

“So you don’t want to cuddle your poor suffering boyfriend?” Roman gave him an exaggerated pout, knowing the other wouldn’t be able to resist it. “Jail for Patton, jail for Patton for one thousand years!”

“Don’t be mean,” Patton whined. He glanced at their entwined hands, sighed, and climbed onto the bed grumbling.

They cuddled for about a minute, and Roman would be lying to say he hadn’t thoroughly enjoyed the fact that his boyfriend wore his favorite sweater. You’d think it was a bit plain, just a simple gray affair, but only if you hadn’t touched it — by Jove, it was like angels themselves knit the thing. Though soon enough, Patton disentangled himself from Roman’s arms, much to his displeasure, and sent a conflicted glance to his desk. Roman groaned.

“Ro, I need to study, I’m sorry.”

“Patton, be serious with me,” Roman said, crossing his arms. “You really think you are fit to study right now? You look like you’ll drop if the wind blows too hard.”

“But—”

“C’mon, darling,” He cupped Patton’s cheek, looking directly into his red-rimmed eyes. “You know better than to overwork yourself. I thought we’d skipped the workaholic college student phase when you were an undergrad.”

“That’s the thing, Ro,” Patton huffed, sounding terribly small. He dug his nails into the comforter, leaning away from Roman's hand. “I'm not an undergrad anymore. I can't coast by. If I want to be a vet, I can't just-”

He clicked his mouth shut, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Hey,” Roman reached out again, but he only curled up further. He paused. Pinpricks of tears formed in the corner of Patton’s eyes and he looked so, so tired. It just about killed Roman to see him so upset. “C’mon, what’s going on?”

“I failed the last test,” Patton muttered, hiding his face in the crook of his arms. “If I don’t do well on this one, there won’t be extra credit that’ll save my grade. I can’t fail this class I can’t—”

“Oh, darling,” Roman crooned, as he gently wrapped the other into a hug. “It’s okay.”

Patton sniffled into Roman's shoulder.

“You’ve never “coasted by”. Don’t punish yourself for struggling,” Roman said, tracing circles onto his back. “Some classes can be tough, that’s okay. No shame in needing to put more effort into learning a subject, you just need to remember you can work hard and still take care of yourself.”

“…What if I’m just not cut out for this?” Patton whispered.

“What? Darling, look at me,” Roman pulled away, then took Patton’s hands with his own. “You’re one of the smartest, most compassionate people I know. I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be a great veterinarian.” He smiled. “Nay, the greatest!”

Patton huffed a laugh and leaned into Roman’s shoulder.

Roman pressed a small kiss into his hair. “You’ll get through this, I know it. There can’t be a victory without some challenge after all,” he said, “But you better not overwork yourself again, mister, or I swear I’ll bully you into some self-care.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Sneaking a hand around his back, Roman pulled Patton down abruptly and flopped him onto the bed, drawing a fit of giggles from him.

“Don’t test me,” he smirked.

Patton let out an airy laugh. “Alright, alright.”

They fell into silence as Roman picked up a pillow from the foot of the bed and lay down. Patton had taken to fidgeting with the sleeves of his blue jumper, quiet as he unraveled a bit of loose thread.

“Vet school is really something,” he finally said.

“Not like you expected?”

“I don't know,” Patton admitted. “I just feel… out of place? Everyone here seems so well-adjusted and driven, but I still feel like I’m bumbling.”

“Is there such a thing as well-adjusted university students?” Roman snorted. “This is a new thing for you, dear, only natural you’ll need some time to get used to it.”

“As long as it doesn’t take too long,” sighed Patton.

“You’re doing great, Pat, trust me,” Roman reached over to ruffle his hair, grinning when Patton pouted adorably and batted his hand away.

“You’re too cute, I’m sorry,” Roman said, stifling a chuckle. Patton crossed his arms. “You know I love you, right?”

Instantly, Patton’s face softened — a pretty blush tinted his cheeks and he smiled bashfully. “I love you too, honey.”

“Man, if I knew I could persuade by flirting I'd have done it much earlier.” Roman teased, raising his hands when he saw the look he got in response. “Okay, okay, I give. So, how about that nap?”

Patton opened his mouth to respond but cut himself with a wide yawn before he could.

“Yeah, I think that’s answer enough.”

Wrapping his arms around Patton's waist, Roman pulled the covers over them and, after whispering goodnight, planted a kiss on his hair. For someone who’d claimed he could go right back to studying with no problem, Patton fell asleep rather quickly — five minutes barely passed and he was already snoring softly. Roman shook his head in amusement. Poor thing sure was exhausted. He snaked his hand around to grab his phone and snapped a photo to send to Virgil.

Mission accomplished.

---

A/N: this takes place about 1-2 years after they met in milkshakes and checkered diners - Patton is in his 1st year of the Veterinary Medicine program, while Roman has been out of college for a year-ish and working on that particular community theater since his senior year of collegeyes he's freaking out about never making it one year into his career 😆 he's a bit of a drama queen but we love him

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Jesus Is Lord of the Sabbath

1 At that time Jesus went through the grainfields on the Sabbath. His disciples were hungry and began to pick some heads of grain and eat them. 2 When the Pharisees saw this, they said to him, “Look! Your disciples are doing what is unlawful on the Sabbath.”

3 He answered, “Haven’t you read what David did when he and his companions were hungry? 4 He entered the house of God, and he and his companions ate the consecrated bread—which was not lawful for them to do, but only for the priests. 5 Or haven’t you read in the Law that the priests on Sabbath duty in the temple desecrate the Sabbath and yet are innocent? 6 I tell you that something greater than the temple is here. 7 If you had known what these words mean, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the innocent. 8 For the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath.”

9 Going on from that place, he went into their synagogue, 10 and a man with a shriveled hand was there. Looking for a reason to bring charges against Jesus, they asked him, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?”

11 He said to them, “If any of you has a sheep and it falls into a pit on the Sabbath, will you not take hold of it and lift it out? 12 How much more valuable is a person than a sheep! Therefore it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.”

13 Then he said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” So he stretched it out and it was completely restored, just as sound as the other. 14 But the Pharisees went out and plotted how they might kill Jesus.

God’s Chosen Servant

15 Aware of this, Jesus withdrew from that place. A large crowd followed him, and he healed all who were ill. 16 He warned them not to tell others about him. 17 This was to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet Isaiah:

18 “Here is my servant whom I have chosen, the one I love, in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will proclaim justice to the nations. 19 He will not quarrel or cry out; no one will hear his voice in the streets. 20 A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out, till he has brought justice through to victory. 21 In his name the nations will put their hope.” — Matthew 12:1-21 | New International Version (NIV) Holy Bible, New International Version® Anglicized, NIV® Copyright © 1979, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® All rights reserved worldwide. Cross References: Leviticus 24:8-9; Deuteronomy 23:25; 1 Samuel 15:22; 1 Samuel 21:4; 1 Samuel 21:6; 2 Chronicles 6:18; Isaiah 42:1,2 and 3; Isaiah 66:1-2; Hosea 6:6; Matthew 3:17; Matthew 4:23; Matthew 8:3-4; Matthew 8:20; Matthew 9:30; Matthew 10:31; Matthew 11:7; Matthew 12:22; Matthew 12:32; Matthew 26:4; Mark 2:23-24; Mark 3:1; Mark 3:7; Mark 14:1; Luke 6:2; Luke 6:6; Luke 9:35; Luke 13:14; Luke 14:3; Luke 14:5; John 3:34; Acts 28:8; Romans 15:12

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Nathanael | Troublemaker | Platonic

Dialogue prompt: “Why are you like this?”

Requested: Yes

Nathanael gets in trouble in front of a Roman guard. He’s might be your best friend, but sometimes, he needs to take it down a notch, or two, or three.

Growing up with Nathanael, you were fully aware that you needed to take everything he said with a pretty royal grain of salt from a very young age. Since your childhood, you had known that the boy had no filter and as you became older, this didn’t necessarily fade upon maturing although he learnt to regulate it a tad somewhere along the way. Philip would also attest to that, for the pair of you would often get the architect out of trouble whenever he spoke his mind during moments that it wasn’t appropriate.

Like now, when you were standing face to face with a Roman guard, Nathanael with a beautifully braided loaf of bread under his arm. Upon turning the corner a few seconds earlier, it was hard to miss the crimson-clad armour-wearing tower of strength that stood in your way, and whereas you had immediately hopped to the side to avoid a collision, Nathanael had gone face-first into the Roman’s chest and stepped back with a slightly puzzled look on his face.

Now, this wouldn’t really have been a problem if Nathanael had only stepped aside. But it is, after all, Nathanael.

“Would you like a piece, officer? You Romans don’t really have the amazing foods we have.” 

You are certain that the architect means the words to hold no ill intent, but the sneer on the guard’s face goes completely over his head. Although the intonation of his voice is not demeaning, the soldier seems to be in a foul mood.

“Move along, Jew.” 

“You know, I think you Romans should smile more. It can really brighten someone’s day! Sometimes, when I’m upset, I go to my friend (Y/n), who I then ask to tell me a good joke. Do you know any good jokes, sir? I could tell you some.” 

You grab Nathanael’s arm and squeeze, your voice lowering to a hiss. “Nathanael, step away. This is not the time.” 

The eyes of the soldier narrow. “I said: move along.”

Nathanael does not heed your warning nor does he realise the hand on the guard’s hilt, and he continues his story as if he isn’t speaking to the oppressor carrying a sizable sword on his hip.

“Right, so you Romans got no jokes to smile about? Let me tell you one. A Pharisee and a Roman guard walk into The Hammer. The bartender asks what they want to drink–”

“Nathanael…” you mutter in a dangerously low tone, “Let’s go.”

“–The Pharisee orders some wine whereas the Roman orders an ale. Says the Pharisee to the Roman–”

The sword of the Roman guard sings as it is unsheathed and he holds it in front of Nathanael, who pauses and swallows thickly. Instead of shutting up, however, he attempts to continue his joke:

“Says the Pharisee to the Roman, hey, I didn’t know that Romans frequented The Hammer. To which the Roman answers Well we don’t, but our own—”

“Do you’ve got sheep dung in your ears?! I said to move along, you nasty Jew!” the soldier roars, and suddenly a few dozen eyes are onto the pair of you. 

You start to pull away Nathanael with force this time, but he struggles. “But you haven’t even heard how the joke ends yet! For all you know, it is the funniest thing you’ve ever heard, hm? How could you know? And then, you can tell your buddies back at your quarters, and they’ll love you for it!”

Before you can completely yank him away, for the Roman’s face grows more and more red with every passing second, Nathanael is roughly pushed against the wall, face-first. He lets out a grunt and the soldier shoves you away, even though you are in no position to effectively fight back against the armoured man that was two heads taller than you. The bread Nath held under his arm falls onto the dusty ground.

“Hey! Is that how you treat someone who tells you a good story? I wonder how you treat people who actually do something wrong— Ouch! That hurts!”

Frozen where you stand, all you can do is watch with a rapidly racing heart how Nathanael is being tied up around his wrists with a thick rope despite his pained sounds. “S-Sir!” you try to verbally stop the guard, “He’s only joking! He–He isn’t in his right mind, please, have mercy!”

“What do you mean, (Y/n)?! My mind is perfectly fine– Ow!”

“Shut your trap, Jewish dog! If your little friend wants you back in one piece, they’d better have a heavy purse on hand!”

“S-Sir! I don’t have any money!” you plead.

The Roman guard sharply turns to you and you back away out of instinct, gasping a little. 

“Then you better get started on earning some. Your friend will surely not enjoy his stay in the Capernaum dungeons.”

You fight the sound of distress that threatens to stream from your lungs as the guard drags along Nathanael, who can’t do anything else but move forward. After a few seconds of staring at either you or at the display of your friend being taken into custody by a Roman, the people around you start moving again, continuing their daily chores.

It takes you a moment to gather yourself, to process what has just happened. Suddenly, panic surges within your chest. 

Philip. You should go to find Philip immediately.

Leaving the bread on the ground where it gathers grime with every passing second, you rush to the flat where you know him to be staying at.

Your feet have never carried you so fast before and you enter without knocking, nor do you dust off your feet. A few shocked faces turn to you – Judas, Little James, Simon Zee and Philip– “Phil!” you gasp, out of breath, putting a hand on your side to hopefully ease the throbbing stab that has formed into your lower abdomen, “Nathanael… He’s… A Roman guard… A-And he didn’t shut up…”

Immediately and without asking anything, Philip stands and leaves behind whatever conversation he was having with his friends to join you swiftly.

Due to the depth of your friendship, Philip and you don’t need to tell one another a lot to understand what the other means, but still, he turns to you for you to fill him in. Putting his hands on your shoulders, he looks at you with a concerned twinkle in his eye as you try to calm down your breaths, which are still rapid and shallow. 

“What happened, (Y/n)? I need details.”

“Well, you know how he is,” you huff, “Nathanael, I mean. We went to market and he accidentally bumped into a Roman guard as we turned the corner. Instead of being reasonable and stepping aside at the soldier’s behest, he chose to tell him a joke of all things. The Roman had a sour look on his face yet Nathanael didn’t heed his warnings, and he was arrested on the spot after failing to quit his antics.”

Philip rolls his eyes but cannot fight the grin tugging at his lips. “That’s typical Nathanael, I suppose. He doesn’t know these boundaries.” His face falls again into a more serious frown. “Let’s… Let’s try to get him out, I suppose.”

You nod and tell him where the soldier said they would be going. “He told me it’s going to cost us bail money,” you warn Philip, “And the problem is, we don’t have any. Shouldn’t we ask… You know.” 

“Jesus?”

You nod. “I-I mean I know that He is busy so I’d rather not disturb Him, but what else can we do? I’m sure that Jesus can talk them into releasing Nathanael.”

Chuckling, Philip pats your shoulder. “I like the way you think that Jesus is perfectly capable of doing so. I agree with that, for our Messiah has got a great way with words, however, as you also mention, I’m sure that Jesus is busy enough with His own things. I’d say that we can figure this out perfectly fine by ourselves.”

A bit more determined, you nod and head over to the location mentioned by the guard. There, he seems invested in a conversation about something rather hilarious with two other centurions, one of whom has his helmet under his arm. Once you clear your throat, he turns to you, his laughter dying in his throat. 

“Oh, it’s you, the friend of that one fool.”

“I’ve brought my brother.” you lie, “We can explain why our friend has displayed the behaviour that he did.”

The guard frowns and mockingly grins at his colleagues, giving a small shake of his head. “Now, this is going to be interesting. Two Jews trying to convince me? Enjoy the show, boys.”

You plant your hands on your hips as the two other Romans cackle loudly, the soldier who had detained Nathanael turning to you. “Speak up.”

“Our friend, he is… He sometimes says things without thinking first.” Philip begins. 

“He is the type that talks first before thinking about what he is going to say.” you add, “He… Unintentionally offends people with that sometimes.”

“He’s got trouble reading the room but is awfully honest as a result.” 

You nod and continue. “Yes, so trust us when we can tell you that our friend meant no harm in trying to make a joke. He’s just like that sometimes. All he wanted was to make your day a little better.”

The soldier sighs and reaches out his palm looking at the two of you expectantly. “Money?”

“We don’t have any.” Philip mutters, “Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t pay you.”

“Why not?”

“Taxes, sir.” you emphasise.

For a long moment, he stares at you, but you don’t break eye-contact. Then, his gaze goes to Philip, to his fellow centurions, and back to you. 

“Fine,” he says. “Let this be a final warning for him.”

You fight hard against the smile of relief that threatens to spread over your face. Instead, you swallow thickly to force it down and nod. “Thank you, sir.”

He heads into the adjacent building and a minute later, he steps out with a still-bound Nathanael. The curly-haired man in question laughs as soon as he sees the two of you. 

“See, I knew you could do it! I knew you two could talk me out of it!” 

The dangerous glance from the Roman soldier does not go over his head this time and his face drops whilst the guard unties him. For a moment, you and Philip look at one another, fighting smirks of your own. 

“Thank you so much, Mr Guard!” Nathanael is about to pat the man in question on the shoulder but decides against it at the very last second before walking over to the two of you.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“It will not, sir,” you chime, “Thank you, and have a good day!”

Both of you drag Nathanael to the other end of the street, each grabbing hold of one arm, before you turn to him fully. 

“That was pretty stupid.” you huff, “Why are you like this?” The moment the words leave your lips, you regret them. “We’ve been very lucky that we could get you out without having to pay for it this time. Next time, there will be very real consequences.” 

Nathanael opens his mouth to make a light-hearted joke about it, but pauses when he sees your frown, and he sighs. “Fine, I’ll try my very best.”

Your face softens. “I’m sorry that I asked why you are like this. I know that it is just part of your character, that it is in your nature to sometimes act the way you do. But still.”

The former architect hums and tilts his head. “No offence taken. I know that people aren’t always so forgiving about that trait of mine.”

Philip clears his throat and speaks up: “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we think of a code word we can say to you if you need to take it down a notch? That way, we don’t need to directly tell you to shut it, but it will make you aware of the social situation that requires a different response from you. Does that make sense?”

Both you and Nathanael smile in positive surprise at the suggestion. “That’s a brilliant idea!” Nathanael quips, “Ah, how about… Quartz! Or-Or-Or architect! How about the word pomegranate?”

Chuckling, you pat his shoulder. “Pomegranate it is. If Philip or I tell you that word whilst you’re having a conversation, you’ll be more aware of the situation.”

With a firm nod, Nathanael puts his hands on yours and Philip’s upper arm. “Thank you, friends. I know that I’d be lost without you.”

“Likewise, Nathanael. Although you can sometimes get yourself and us in trouble, the world needs more people who are like you.”

He cannot fight the slight flush on his cheeks and hums, leading you towards the flat where you had found Philip a while earlier. 

“Talking about pomegranates has made me hungry. Let’s go back to market, friends, for I’ll pick up some fruits for us. My treat!”