#lactose intolerant roman

[amiracleilluminated]

Don't go down on Peter's special cheese!

#dailysuccession #succession #successionedit #roman roy #hbo succession #*gifs #me today. im lactose intolerant.

[tardlard]

theres this one quote thats like: "it doesn't matter how hot a person is, they've probably had the worst toe curling diarrhea before" and it sticks to me like GLUE

#life is fun #this quote lives in my head rent free #basically my roman empire #i think of it any time im shitting my soul out #im lactose intolerant

[clowndensation]

i was able to obtain ice cream btw

#i'm so roman-coded btw #(too many bad feelings inside my body so i've decided to externalize it into something physical (lactose intolerance pain))

[thelastofhyde]

ii. santorini.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. tensions are high as you and joel spend your first day together exploring the popular island of santorini. back on the boat, joel gets a glimpse at more than he bargained for. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, no apocalypse au, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, tour-guide!joel, unspecified age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much ) <3 chapter warnings. mild smut ( female masturbation, mentions of oral sex + piv sex ), bickering, alcohol, mild angst, so much cheese it'll turn you lactose intolerant!! btw joel hates santorini and he makes that known, but none of his opinions reflect my own ( please don't be mean to me over things characters say <33 ) word count. 7.9k hyde’s input. the majority of this chapter was written with a mixture of medicine flowing through my veins, it's a miracle it's even intelligible. apologies for the wait, the holidays and health issues got in the way <3 as always, i hope you enjoy, comments an dreblogs are always appreciated !! previous chapter - next chapter - series masterlist

It is a known fact that your name and late rarely exist within the same sentence.

The mere thought of being late fills you with a sickness you cannot cure. The extremes you’ll go to avoid it know no bounds. From arriving four hours before a flight, to waiting in your car a whole hour before entering a lecture hall, adulthood is a phase in which you’d sworn to repair the damage of a childhood worth of not arriving late.

Late to school, late to birthday parties, late to dentist appointments.

It wasn’t that you were a particularly difficult child, running rampant around the house as your mother tried to dress you, or your father tried to feed you. Quite the contrary, really. Often, it was little-you who chased around after them, and who waited by the door, school bag in hand, tapping your foot with every second that ticked by on the clock. You were too young and hadn’t the ability nor the empathy to understand that your parents were held up with sorting through things directly influenced by your existence, like cleaning up the messes you left at the breakfast table, or fixing the doorknob you and your sister broke in an intense game of hide and seek.

Nowadays, you can count on one hand the times you’ve been late.

First, you were late to your own surprise birthday party, but that was down to you getting stuck an extra hour at work. It was out of your control.

Then, there’d been your graduation ceremony. Your father missed an exit and ended up taking you on a mystery tour of the city, trying to find the next turn that led to your campus. Again, out of your control.

The third time is the one you remember panicking over the most, knee bouncing uncontrollably with nerves as you sat squeezed between two strangers on a plane. Your sister, barely halfway through her third trimester, had gone into labour, and where were you? Stumbling around drunk on a private beach in Cancún, mumbling along to the lyrics of some early 2000s classic you forget the name of. Your niece, all 4 and a half pounds of her, had decided now was her time to shine and there was nothing, not even the 4 weeks she had yet to grow in utero, that was going to stop her. By the time you arrived, mascara smudged eyes and with the stench of tequila still on your skin, she was laying peacefully in her incubator, the tiniest little fingers clenched into fists and a name tag around her wrist. This too was out of your control.

But the fourth time you’re late, as you stride urgently across the wooden decking of the ship, weaving in and out of lounge chairs and polo-neck wearing crew members, it’s completely within your control.

Yet, it’s not entirely your fault.

An alarm that never went off. A game of hide-and-seek with your purse. An unfortunate slip on bathroom tiles adding another bruise to your knees. An elevator that refused to travel faster than the speed of a snail. It’s as though Lady Luck had set out in favour of being against you, doing her utmost to ensure you arrive exactly seven minutes past your deadline. His deadline.

Best be on the deck by 7 am, darlin’, or I’m dockin’ without ya.

Your head whips from one side to another, eyes finding a familiar figure amongst the few passengers meeting their own private guides. It’s the same man from yesterday, out on the balcony, the memory of him cheering his champagne and shooting a tipsy smile your way replaying. Only now he’s clad in plaid, with a frown etched into his forehead as he stares at his watch. There’s another man, hanging off his arm, fusing with the collar of his shirt.

“She’s late,” you overhear him say, voice firm and leaking with annoyance.

“Maybe she just slept in!” The man next to him is cheerier, tired eyes full of optimism, even as he turns his head and stifles a yawn. “Give her a few minutes.”

“What kind of shitty tour guide sleeps in?” Balcony-Man huffs, and you can’t help but think of your niece and her pouty face whenever she fails to get her own way. “Does she think I’d not rather be asleep too? Lazy c-”

“See? This is why I told you to eat that damn croissant before we left.” The taller of them seems to snap, rolling his eyes. “Brighten up, Bill, or so help me God you’ll be leaving this boat a divorcee.”

Trying to tune their voices out, as the guilt of prying crawls its way into your bones, your gaze points down at your feet. The very same heels you’d worn last night, pretty as they may leave you, have you cursing at the Sun and the Moon. If you’d have just worn your sneakers, maybe you could have ran up the stairs instead of taking the snail-evator.

Joel, tour guide, Signore Miller’s voice- though your imagination can’t quite reach his level of arrogance- rears its irritating head through your mind, recalling his words from last night. Wear somethin’ a little more… practical. That had been enough to awaken that stubborn mule inside of you, hell-bent on proving him wrong.

But now, late, and with him nowhere in sight, your heels seem to have had the opposite effect. They’ve proved him right.

Which leaves you here, moping so pathetically you’re incapable of appreciating the shine of a rising sun over the horizon of aqua blue water.

Five minutes, you decide. That’s how long you’ll allow yourself to dwell in self-pity. Then, you’ll trek your way over to the Excelsior lounge, hit up the breakfast buffet, and await the general disembarking time.

Who knows, maybe you’ll get a call to say there’s a miraculous spot opened up on one of the tour groups.

If not, you’ll be fine! You’ve travelled alone before, you’ve got an all-inclusive data plan on your phone and you’re pretty well-acquainted with the less-than-accommodating features of Google Maps. You don’t need help, or a tour guide, much less one as blood-boiling, skin-prickling, irritating as Joel Mil-

“Wasn’t sure how ya like your coffee, but you look like a milk, two sugars kind of girl to me.”

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Or, in this case, think of him.

Turning a little too fast, you stumble a step or two back, and, sure enough, there he is. A tight fitting, dark grey t-shirt stretched over the swell of his biceps, a pair of washed-out denims, and two well-worn running shoes, one on each foot. Trailing up the swell of his tanned neck, you count the freckles up to his eyes, and find there’s bags under them. The growth of hair on his face is just as unkempt as yesterday, yet already it seems to have grown longer, making the litter of greys stand out more. The hair that sits atop his head is damp, and the strands that have managed to dry are being messed around by the morning air. He’s still got that ever-present frown stamped into his forehead, yet his mouth doesn’t seem to curl into a snarl as he calls your name.

You must stare a moment or two past his comfort level, for he clears his throat and nods down at his hand. Two to-go cups, the smallest streams of steam floating out the hole in each lid.

He’s extending one out- the one in his right hand- towards you. “If you’d rather black, you can take min-”

“No!” You snap back into your own body, all too quickly and all too volatile. Clear your throat, and then try again, this time with a little less of that im being held at gunpoint shake in your voice. “No… Thank you. It’s fine- Milk is fine.”

It’s more than fine.

In fact, he’s gotten it spot on. Down to the number of sugars you take.

But, still stubborn, you yearn to not give him the satisfaction of being right so early in the day, and instead settle for accepting the coffee out his hand. You welcome the golden warmth eagerly, eyes unable to resist slipping shut as you take your first sip. When they reopen, you find Joel watching you, intently. Purposefully, as though you’re something to be studied.

Clearing your throat, you glance to the side and spot Balcony-Man and his partner greeting an apologetic woman.

“Thanks for the, uh,” his stare is intimidating your nerves, setting you on edge of something you’re all to eager to jump off. “Coffee. Yeah. You didn’t have to… I mean, I actually thought you’d, you know, uh-”

“You thought I left without ya.” He states. All you can do is nod. “I could’ve. I did warn you not to be late.”

“You did.”

“I also told you to wear somethin’ other than them heels.”

“I know.”

“Yet here you are, late and in heels. You’re not very good at following orders.” He exhales something akin to a chuckle, as devoid of humour as it may be, and you swear he’s suddenly closer than you remember, knuckles brushing against your own as he bumps his paper cup against yours. “Just what am I gonna do with ya, huh?”

For a moment, you swear your heart has leaped from your chest and up to your throat, threatening to choke you with the beat of it. There’s no sense you can make of it, this reaction he rouses, a heat you can’t control creeping down your loins as you drag in a whiff of some manly cologne, the kind you’d usually turn your nose up at for being too overbearing. Yet, on him, it’s not. On him it’s just right, like he was born with pine soaked skin, and a tobacco stained kiss, and-

Before you can think of pulling in another breath, Joel’s stepped back, allowing a cool breeze to pass between you and get a hold of your senses.

“C’mon, we’re slotted in for the first tender that leaves for shore.”

“Oh my God.”

You’re half certain Joel’s growing sick of hearing those three words roll off your tongue. He’s likely felt this way since it first left your mouth, feet struggling to safely step out onto the dock as your mind became enchanted by the picturesque view in front of you. Only the burn of his hand meeting your lower back, nudging you ahead to make space for himself and the other passengers to step off the tender boat, was capable of dragging you back into your own body, the wanderlust that had gripped your soul yearning to be free to explore every building that sits carved into rock, every water-taxi that flows idly on cristaline water, every step that winds up and up and up the island’s cliff where, at the top, civilisation seems to lie.

The port you’ve docked on is rather small, with naught more than two docking strips and a walkway of shops and confection stands, with boats that find no space along the docking strips tying themselves to any safety they may find over the expanse of the walkway. It is no wonder the cruise floats safely out in deeper waters, alongside several other cruise lines, with no space for such large vessels. And, yet, the port is alive with something. The ground seems to pulse, like a beat of a heart, and the air, as fresh as the grass after heavy rainfall, almost dances its way down your lungs. Voices swim all around you, tourists scrambling past each other, fighting in a race towards something you’ve yet to identify.

“So this is Gialos, also known as the Old Port of Fira.” Somewhere, behind you perhaps, Joel’s voice pipes up, a speech so rehearsed and robotic, a part of your wonders how many times he’s recited it, how many people he’s recited it to. The other part of you, however, is much too fixated on the stairs ahead to pay him true attention, eyes following as two men and several donkeys descend. “That, up there, is Fira, the capital of Santorini. We’re going to need to take a cable- Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes!” You’re quick to react, a defensive rise in your voice. He meets it with a deadpan look and the crossing of his arms over his chest, which quickly becomes something you wish he wouldn’t do as you watch the tight fabric of his shirt stretch itself thin over the bulge of his arms. “No. Sorry, I’m just… Wow.”

You hope he appreciates the restraint you show towards repeating those three dreaded words again.

“You have all day to stare,” his words trip over his own irritated scoff, and you bite back a question of why he’s a guide if he seems to hate it so much, fearful he’s too honest to not tell you a truth that may hurt your fragile feelings. A truth where it is not so much his job he dislikes, but rather, your presence and all that it brings. “Right now, we need to move. Don’t wanna spend all day waitin’ in line now, do ya?”

This need for speed that hooks the other tourists seems to filter over into your guide, who’s forcing you forward, that heat of his palm now hovering inches away from your lower back. It’s enough to lead you where he pleases. As a pair, you weave in and out small clusters of people, till the space between you both and the large gathering crowd slowly diminishes. It is there where his once telepathic leading fails, with Joel turning left towards it as you stray right, over to the ascending pathway of stairs.

“Where are you going?” His tone is offended, almost, as he comes to a halt and watches you fail to do the same, to notice the space between you both and correct it like some puppy who’s been called to heel by its master.

“Where am I going?” The question, at first, is one you mistake as rhetorical. Staring back at him with an equaled confusion, you gesture to the stairway, as though it is the most obvious answer. Because, well, where else could you have been heading? He said so himself, that up there is Fira, the capital of Santorini, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get to see it. “Where are you going?”

“To the cable cars, that’ll take us up the island.”

Above the crowd of people, hanging over doors of small businesses, lay several signs. CABLE CARS - 6€ ! stands out, impossible to miss. Symbols you scarcely recognise sit beneath it, in smaller text, and you assume it’s Greek. In the distance, you spy the movement of the mobile boxes, people being carted up the length of the cliff at a speed that promises them a journey of mere minutes.

“Oh.” So, perhaps his option makes more sense than your own far longer, more tiring one. Still, stubborn as a mule, you double down on your decision to take the scenic route, inching closer towards the first step. Your guide, still in the face, refuses to move, daring eyes willing you to continue. “You want us to take the lazy man’s route? You go ahead, I’ll take the stairs and meet you at the top.”

You press one foot up onto the first step, weary of where you rest the point of your heel.

Glancing a few steps further up, there’s the unmistakable sight of a mound of brown substance, no doubt excreted out of one of the donkeys that walk ahead, tourists mounted on their poor backs.

“I don’t think you understand,” he finally inches closer, if only slightly, hands clenched at his side. “There’s five hundred and eighty-eight steps until you reach the top.”

The number is more daunting than you expect, and you pray he can’t read this on your face. “Only? I’ll be up in no time then!”

You feel more than see the way Joel’s eyes travel down the expanse of you, stuttering almost over the curvature of your chest, the dips at your hips, till they rest at your feet. The question hangs loose between you, unspoken yet evident.

In those heels?

“Listen, Joel,” taking a second, third, and fourth step, you aim for a literal higher ground, staring down below as he continues to drift closer and closer towards the stairway. “If you’re not fit for the task, or the climb’s no good for your knees, you can just say it, there’s no shame. Like I said, I’ll meet you at the top. Promise I won’t even report the fact my private guide abandoned me in favour of his own comfort.”

Defeat has never come easy.

Well, to phrase it better towards the truth, acceptance of defeat has never come easy.

There was always something more to be said, another excuse to be given for any of your shortcomings. When you’d been turned away from the school’s soccer team, you’d told yourself it was because you were a girl- ignoring the fact three girls in your year made the cut. When you’d lost an arduous game of Monopoly, you’d sworn you’d caught your sister sneaking notes out of the banker’s pile into her own. When you’d been beaten, round after round, by your own niece at Mario Kart, you’d stuck your tongue out at her and told her you let her win out of pity.

All that had been before, of course, back when you still roamed school hallways, when your sister sat across from you at the dining table, when your niece still laughed freely, wildly, celebrating her own victories with an over-the-top, uncoordinated dance around the living room.

As changed as things may be, defeat is still your foe.

It is that reason alone that you bite back a complaint.

You’d enjoyed the initial moments of your trek. Maybe it was the salty air in your lungs, or the beautiful views of your surroundings, or the idle grumbling coming from Joel, a few paces behind you, kicking up dirt under his feet with every step he travelled up. Whatever the reason, adrenaline had been flowing, into your heart and through your veins, covering every square inch of your body, a tingling of nerves from the tip of your toes to the top of your spine.

But, by the 10 minute mark, a dull ache forms in your feet. Each step of your heel feels more life threatening than the last, as the stairs grow slippier, dustier, and well-worn the further up you advanced. By stair who-knows-how-may, you take a near fatal tumble backwards, the crunch of crumbling rock threatening to be the last thing you hear. Till he appears behind you, fast as light, huffing out a breath as you smack down against his solid chest.

“Mind your step.” From anyone else, you would mistake it as a sign of care. From Joel, you know better than to think it’s anything beyond a humourless taunt.

You try to keep count of the steps, from then on, an effort to motivate yourself to move faster with each ten-pace you count. By 50, you lose your place and begin counting all over again.

The journey is difficult in other ways, too, with the constant passing of donkeys who obligate you to stand aside and make way for them. And the distant movement of cable cars, firing up and sliding down more times than you can keep track of.

When a particular step proves itself too steep, you can no longer hold back and, finally, a hiss slips out between your clenched teeth as pain shoots up your ankle, the leather of your shoe rubbing even harder into your brittle skin, threatening the promise of a blister yet to fully swell. Pushing the pain down, alongside a complaint, you take another step. Hiss. Then another, hiss. You can fight it no longer, bending at the waist to slip off your heel and examine the irritated skin.

Sure enough, it’s been rubbed raw, broken and spilling a small pool of blood.

Behind you comes an exasperated groan and, before you can straighten yourself to even register what’s happening, Joel barges past you and the figure of him up ahead slowly diminishes the faster he climbs up hill.

“Hey!” You call after him, hobbling to slip your shoe back on, but it’s to no avail.

He’s long gone, growing further and further out of your reach with each passing minute.

Cursing him under your breath, you decide to hell with the no complaints of his preferred regard for his own comfort. He’s abandoned you, injured and hobbling up the steps, all because he has the patience of a toddler who’s been waiting far too long to go potty.

“Wear somethin’ a little more sensible…” You’re bound to seem deranged to any passers by, half hopping up the steps, mumbling to yourself in a mockery of his deep voice “Yeah, right, how bout I shove somethin’ a little more sensible up your ass. Oh, what’s that? There’s no room up there with the massive stick you’re already carryin-”

“A local man warned me bout ya, on my way back down. Said there was some no-good girl casting out bad juju.” You freeze, foot stopped in mid-air. Shifting your gaze up ahead, you find Joel there, skipping a step every so often as he grows closer and closer. At his side, dangling from two fingers, sits a plastic bag. “Told him it ain’t no juju or curses you’re casting, just throwin’ a little tantrum.”

Like a fish out of water, all you can do is stare at him, wide eyes and mouth agape.

Joel pays your silence no mind, almost delighting in it. With a pop and a crack from his knees, he crouches down before you, holding out the palm of his hand.

“C’mon,” he mutters, pointing towards your injured foot. “Lemme see.”

You’re hesitant, at first, but ultimately lift it and let him curl his grip around it, holding you in place as the shoe slips off you. A tut meets your ears as his eyes meet the bloodied mess, and you watch how he contemplates, for a moment or two, before wetting his thumb with his tongue and swiping it over your broken skin.

It stings, like salt in a wound or a bee’s stinger through skin, and you try to flinch back, retract yourself from his hold. But Joel’s strong, resilient, nails biting at the flesh of your ankle to keep you in place. His free hand digs into the plastic bag he’d discarded at his side and pulls out a white box. Fiddling with it for a short period, he manages to open it at last and slips out a bandaid. He rips that open a lot quicker, using his teeth, and slips it over your open wound perfectly, thumb and pointer finger smoothing it around the curve of your heel.

“D’ya see now why I told you to not wear those things?” You feel like a child at his words, reprimanded like you once were for touching your mother’s curling iron. “And why I said we should take the cable car?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you refuse to meet his eyes. But he just won’t let you be, craning his own neck to infiltrate the space you stare off into. There’s a pleased look on his face, smugness pulling at the right corner of his mouth. Alarmingly, you think of how it’s the closest you’ve gotten to seeing him smile.

You continue your pursuit of silence, repeating a mantra of how you don’t care that he’d tried to look out for your comfort, or how he’d then tried to save you the effort of an uphill battle, or how his hand, big and warm and rough at the fingertips, is still holding your foot in place, absentmindedly rubbing your ankle in a circular motion.

“Look at ya, gone all quiet on me,” that corner of his lip curls higher. You register the rustling of the bag, his hand digging back inside it. “Ain’t one for bein’ put in your place, are you?”

Out comes his hand once more, though this time it’s not a box of bandaids. Now, resting firm in his grasp, sits a mixture of navy blue dyed cotton, stitched atop a flat, thick layer of a straw-like material. A slip-on canvas shoe. Joel doesn’t await permission, nor does he even ask for it. He simply takes charge, slipping it onto your foot, mindful as he straightens out the back to lay against your heel.

“Other foot, up.”

Switching feet, you stumble as your weight completely shifts onto your injured side. Your hands, reaching out to stabilise your swaying body, are quickly directed by his own to rest atop his head, curls of brown threading between your fingers. You contemplate asking what products he uses to achieve locks so smooth and shiny, then rethink it as soon as you imagine his reply of a disinterested grunt and a snarky ain’t use anythin’ but dirt water and a splash o’ whiskey.

“How’s it feel?”

Soft, you almost reply, then realise he’s asking about the shoe.

With a wiggle of your toes, you tell him it’s fine, and leave it at that. He doesn’t need to know they’re surprisingly comfortable.

Joel rises with a bit of a struggle, yet refuses the help you offer. Rough hands scoop up your discarded heels, tossing them into the bag, and then he straightens his back, lets out a noise of discomfort, before nodding up ahead.

“C’mon, only got a hundred or so to go. We’ll be up in no time.”

The sun sits high in the sky when you reach the city of Fira.

Crossing over that last step, 588 painted in white across it, you huff out a sigh, exhaustion aching you out of any enjoyment of your victory over the stairway from hell. Before you can even utter a word of your thirst, Joel is already reaching into his bag of wonders, unscrewing the lid off a bottle of water and passing it to you. Grateful, you take a sip, and lament the few drops that spill down your chin.

At least they don’t go to complete waste, cooling your skin ever so slightly.

It’s a shame to see Joel start moving again, moments before you’re even ready to gain back your breath, but you follow after him, nonetheless, mindful to not press your foot too hard down. Through streets he winds, past shopkeepers he walks. Eventually, after a few minutes, you ask him where you’re both heading.

“To catch a coach,” his hand moves quickly, tugging you closer as a bicycle shoots past behind you. Your own find themselves against his chest, and realise it is nothing like his hair. Solid, warm, wide. It’s almost a shame to lower them back down to your side. “Less you think you can walk from here to Oia, too.”

Truth be told, you don’t know where Oia is.

But you do know your walking for the day is over, happy to follow Joel onto the coach. You take the aisle seat, he’s by the window. Across from you both sits a couple, young and giggling into one another’s ears, as though the sounds of their joy is sacred to none but them. A pang of envy thumps your soul, and you quickly turn your face.

Only to find that Joel’s is grey.

Not the hair that lines it but, rather, his whole face, paled and blood-drained. It’s a sickly image, and one that’s quick to get your heart racing.

“Are you okay?” Any thought of keeping your composure becomes mute as you hear your own voice, a treacherous shake to it that gives your panic away. “You look…” There is no word kind enough for you to use to relay the image of him, so you lock your lips.

It takes a few seconds for you to get a reply, as your hand moves up to feel his forehead. It’s sweaty, warm, and you move to pull your hand back when he’s holding it firm in place, eyes slipping shut. “‘S cold. You’re cold,” seems to be his explanation. “I’m fine, it’s just- Carsick.”

“You get carsick, yet you work on a cruise.”

“Not the same. Ship’s big, somethin’ bout the size and my own visibility, ‘s what stops me getting seasick.”

You sit like that the rest of the coach, your hand pressed to his forehead, his eyes slipped shut.

“What’s your favourite stop on the cruise?”

As it turns out, Oia is exactly what you’d pictured Santorini to be.

White washed houses, deep blue domes for rooftops, turquoise waters, all for as far as the eye can see. Joel complains, more than tells you, of the rise in tourism over the years, of how it’s turned the beautiful village into a party-town for idiots abroad, disregarding the clean environment, shamelessly blocking paths to snap a frame-worthy shot, raising prices to the ceiling. When you ask him if he thinks he’s in part to blame, if people like him are to blame- running tours, bringing guests onto the island, earning a wage off the visiting of such a place- he grumbles out something about missing breakfast, needing lunch.

So you find a cafe. Or, more, Joel leads you to one. He greets the doorman, with a wave and a pat on the back, before sauntering his way through to a back terrace, overlooking the whole village, the water perfectly framing it. Stepping out and sitting down, the view robs the very breath out of your lungs.

It’s like sitting inside a postcard.

Joel asks if you like Greek food.

You tell him you’ve never had it.

He orders for you both, a mixture of different plates, and swears he’ll find something you’ll like.

It turns out you’re rather fond of baklava.

“Florence.” Joel’s taken his time to answer, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. Disbelief more than fear in his eyes, you have to wonder if it’s the first time someone’s thought to ask him, in all his years as a guide. Naturally, this leads you to wondering how many years that is. “It’s a real site. Full of history, a real story to be told.” He tilts a ceramic dish your way, eyes glancing down in an offering. You follow them, and spot olives. Shake your head, no, then smile, thanks. He shrugs, more for me, and pops two into his mouth. “There’s this…” he pauses to chew. “This library.”

“A library?”

“‘S not just a library.” He slips out the olive’s pip and raises another into his mouth. You try not to think about how thick his fingers look, rolling the remaining briny green pebbles around in the pot. “There’s a cinema built inside it. Plays some classic films. I always- or, I try to go whenever we dock.”

It’s hard to picture Joel inside a cinema, something about the setting too busy, too loud to place his scowling face in. Would he be the kind to have a favourite seat, perfectly picked to optimise the sound quality? Does he speak animatedly, excited any time he recognises an actor? Or is he a shusher, the kind to roll his eyes when someone dares to even clear their throat?

A part of you wants to ask him if your tour involves a trip to this library.

Something tells you it’s not a place he likes to share, though. It’s his own little corner, safe to sneak a moment of selfish indulgence amidst a week of catering to another’s needs.

“A cinema inside a library?” A waiter interrupts you, asks if everything’s alright. Joel orders another serving of baklava. “Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?”

“Yeah.” For a moment, you think you see a smile creep across his lips. “Suppose it is.”

Another interruption comes in the form of your ringtone, rippling the water in your glass as your phone vibrates upon the table. You’re well aware of how Joel spots the word Mum displayed across your screen. Just like you’re aware he sees how you swipe down on your screen and switch on aeroplane mode.

Before he can ask any questions, or the sudden silence can become too deafening, you throw out another question. “And your least favourite?”

“Least favourite stop?” You nod, affirmative, and he needs no time to reply. “Here.”

“Here?! How come?”

The baklava arrives, as if on cue, and you point down at it, as though it is reason enough to be enamoured with the island. It seems to do little to convince him, his hand reaching out to push the plate closer to you, inviting you to indulge yourself.

“Compared to the other stops, Santorini’s bland.” He says it when your mouth is too occupied to protest, stuffed full with layer after layer of pastry. “Kind of like a diamond, y’know? Real pretty to look at, empties your wallet, and, at the end of the day, ain’t much you can do with it.”

“People propose with diamonds.” You point out, and cough as a flake of pastry hits the back of your throat.

Joel’s already passing you your glass of water before you even think to reach for it.

“People propose with rings. Diamonds are just custom, not a guarantee.”

Sunset arrives with no warning, a hue of fiery orange melting down into the calm waters on the horizon. It’s Joel who makes the call to head back, one glance at his watch enough to tell you the last chance to catch a coach is nigh. It’s only as you go to call for the bill that he tells you it’s covered and you realise his earlier trip to the bathroom had been a ruse to go pay.

The trip back is calmer, quieter, with the coach full of sunkissed and heat exhausted tourists.

Again, you take the aisle seat, and Joel, the window.

Keeping an eye on him is easy, switching your gaze towards the approaching darkness of the night sky calling upon the street lights anytime he meets your eyes. When you notice the increase in breaths and the paling of his skin, you wordlessly unscrew the cap off a bottle and slot it into his hand, inviting him to finish off the last sips of your water.

Skipping out on a trip down memory stairway, you quietly follow him into the cable car and, when you reach the Old Port, you try your best to block out his smug remark of how easy and fast the ride was. A feat which becomes easier as you stumble halfway up the dock and turn back.

Like hours before, as you first stepped off the tender, your mouth falls agape. Only, this time, wider. The view of the island lit up in all its glory is enough to leave you breathless, hands scrambling to fish out your phone, open the camera and-

“You gettin’ on or what?” Joel calls out from behind, and you find him waiting on board one of the tenders, hand held out towards you.

It’s a demand, more than it is an offer, to hurry up. The collective of other passengers are watching the interaction, and a feeling you’ve come to know all too well crawls its way into your veins.

A burden, holding them all up, that’s what you are.

The feeling follows you back, as you slip into a damp seat and watch as the boat carries you further and further from the island, it’s lights twinkling in a way that chokes you up, drains you out, eyes stinging from more than just the salty air. You’ll love it, I swear! The memory plays out in your head, those words gushed at you. Hands squeezing your cheeks, a smile blinding you under its brightness. Just wait till you see it at night, the lights shine over it like stars!

You blink.

A tear pools at the corner of your eye.

“Here, look,” something nudges you. It’s Joel, inching his phone into your view. Through blurred sight, you glance at it. And find yourself, centre frame, lit only by the moon. In the back lies the whole skyline of Santorini, lights reflecting down onto the waters below. “Best view you can get, the whole island in one shot.”

Afraid to hear your own voice, you smile.

He answers by pointing his phone back at you, snapping another photo.

Back on the cruise, the two of you part ways, with Joel telling you to meet him in the same bar, same time as the night before.

Dinner had been part of your plans. With a glance over the listed restaurants on board, the ache in your tired bones asks you to stay in bed and make use of the room service. You listen, order something light, easy. It arrives in under 10 minutes and your hunger is satisfied sitting out on the balcony, watching the dark waves roll past.

Phoning your mother is the next port o'call.

Unlike with your food, that takes longer than 10 minutes. Much longer, and involves you countlessly reassuring her that yes, you’re okay, and no, you don’t need her to fly out and meet you in Naples.

“I’m a big girl,” you even throw in a laugh, hoping it’ll ease the worry lines you can picture splayed over your mother’s face. “I think I can climb up a mountain without my mum’s help.”

“Honey, you know that’s not what why I’m worri-”

“Did you know you can get carsick but, at the same time, not seasick?”

You hang up shortly after, with a promise to try your best to answer when she calls tomorrow, instead of hours later, when she should be fast asleep.

The time on your phone tells you there’s still forty minutes until you need to meet Joel. The image of that grandiose bathtub flashes before your eyes and, in record timing, you’re sinking into scalding waters, a complimentary bath bomb dumped in and granting you the childish gift of bubbles.

You try to relax, at first.

There’s no need to wet your hair, so you indulge yourself. Lay your head back, close your eyes. Feel your muscles loosen with the warmth, ignore the sting of soap in your blistering heel. Your hands struggle to find a resting place, until they meet your thighs. They sit still, for a moment or two, before one slips down, inching into the crease of where your legs meet.

Something stirs in your core, comes alive as you think of how long it’s been since you last felt someone. A few months, it has to be. A fellow graduate, if you remember correctly, that stupid robe still on his shoulders as he let his mouth come down on you.

Your hand is soon on your core, before you really notice, mind on a mission to recall the hazy encounter. When you think of his tongue, messy yet eager, your finger’s already on your clit, pressing against it with a tease of pleasure. When you think of his cock, uncut and thicker than your ex, splitting you open on his bedroom floor, your hips cant up against yourself, chasing friction. When you rewind how soft Joel’s hair had been between your fingers, your free hand grips one of your breasts, fingers pinching at your nipple.

Your eyes snap open.

Joel’s hair.

Joel.

Something you should not be thinking of right now, hand buried between your thighs.

You wait a few seconds, remind yourself of the graduate’s face.

His blue eyes, your fingers roll over your nipple.

His blonde hair, your legs spread wider.

Joel’s solid chest, your fingers dip inside your cunt.

Your breath is shaky, Joel’s annoyed groan echoes.

The shame of it, of thinking of him, is almost as tantalising as touching yourself, fucking your own hole full with as much of your fingers the angle will allow. It’s a one time thing, you justify. You just need to get it out your system. One and done, cum and done. No more of Joel Miller between your thighs, this is the closest he’ll get.

Someone knocks at your door.

You nearly miss it over the sound of your breathing, the pounding of your heart.

“Who is it?” You don’t like how weak you sound, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Another knock.

“Can I come in?”

A hand still between your thighs, orgasm titering on the edge, body fully submerged in lukewarm water. “No!”

“Ain’t safe to leave your door unlocked. Anybody could walk in- Jesus!”

You’ve never screamed louder.

Joel takes up most of the bathroom doorway, same clothes save for the shirt that’s got two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. You’re pressed right back into the bathtub, as physically far from him as you can get, knees pressed up to your chest, ankles crossed over.

In Joel’s defence, he’s quick to turn away, presenting you with a view of his back. A hand runs through his hair.

“Why are you in my room?!” You inch even further back, the water suddenly dropping several degrees.

“I asked to come in!”

“And I told you not to!”

“Well obviously I didn’t hear that!”

“Why are you in my room?” You’re back to your first question, eyeing up your towel.

It’s across the room, on the bathroom sink. No way for you to reach it without the risk of him seeing you reflected on something.

“You were late. Came to check if ya tripped on them heels and broke your neck.”

“I,” you’re not sure what time it is with your phone sitting by the bed, charging. That's now five times you've been late in adulthood. “Didn’t realise the time. I can meet you at the bar in ten minutes.”

He nods, and you watch him take a step, then immediately pause. “You know, I’ve heard a few things from passengers…” You may not see his face, but you swear there’s that half-smirk, smug look upon it. It’s practically dripping off his words. “The shower head, fourth setting. Seems to get the job done for most ladies on board.”

Grabbing the closest thing in reach- a bar of soap- you launch it and watch it bounce off his irritatingly wide shoulders. “Get OUT!”

You make it to the Tipsy Byson in 15 minutes.

Dressed more appropriately than the night before, your flared jeans and crop top garner less stares. It’s just as busy, if not busier, yet it’s not hard to spot Joel on a barstool, nursing a glass of something syrupy looking. Behind the bar is Luke, head thrown back at something Joel says.

They’re an interesting pair to observe, you realise as you make your way over. With Luke, so tall, so lanky, so bright-face, his energy warm and inviting, and Joel so- well, Joel.

“There she is,” Luke cheers, a little too loudly, calling attention to you as you slip into the stool next to Joel. “My new favourite customer.”

“Thought I was your favourite,” Joel’s yet to look at you, and it’s a relief. He’s looked at you enough for one day, one week, one lifetime.

“Sorry but she smells better than you, Joel,” the barman winks at you, a cheeky grin on his face. “ Plus, she’s a hell of a lot nicer to look at.”

Joel scoffs, you giggle.

“Not sure about the whole smelling better thing,” your response comes minutes later, after Luke’s already served you a glass of wine and turned away your cash, telling you he’ll put it on Joel’s tab. “But thanks!”

Unprompted and uninvited, Luke bends over the bar and takes an exaggerated sniff. “I don’t know, smell alright to me.”

“Really? I’m not even wearing perfume, I forgot to pack any-.”

“Yeah! Go on Joel, give her a whiff, tell her she smells fine!” There’s resistance on his end, but Luke’s adamant, hand clamped on the back of Joel’s head, shoving him face first into your neck. Joel’s nose brushes against you. You hear him inhale. Exhale. Inhale again, then the urge to cross your thighs begins to nag at you. “Well?”

“Yeah, smells nice- Fine. Ya smell fine.”

“Be still my beating heart! Someone alert the press that Texas said something other than-”

Joel interrupts Luke’s dramatics, scowl on his face. “Don’t you have a job to be doin’?”

Only once the bartender is down the other end of the bar, engrossed in a heated discussion over what beer pulls a better head, does Joel speak again, sipping on his drink. Whiskey.

“So I noticed somethin’, when I was checking your bookin’ info.” You nod, urge him to continue, and take a sip of your own drink. Some country song plays over the speakers and you notice a sudden shake in Joel’s knee, his foot tapping to the beat. “Says there should be two of you in my guide team.”

“Oh,” the lump forming in your throat falls safely back into the pit of your stomach as you take another drink of wine. “Must be a printing error. You know how technology can be, always complicating things.”

“Hmm,” it’s easy to write off the awkward energy between you with the excuse of earlier events, and it’s the first bright-side you find to him walking in on your intimate bath. “Well, you know the drill for tomorrow. 7 am on that deck or I’m-”

“Docking without me, I know.”

You finish your drink first. When Joel orders himself another glass, you smile politely and turn it down. Yawn, then tell him you best head to bed.

Before you can slip out the entry, someone calls your last name. Loud enough to turn more than just your own head.

It’s Joel, approaching you, effortlessly parting crowds through the lively bar as though he is knife and, the people, butter. The loud music seems to ring louder in your ear, impeding you from hearing the words that leave his moving lips.

“What?” You call out, hands clasped over your mouth in an attempt to amplify the volume of your voice.

His response is to step closer, hands holding you in place by the waist as he leans down. A hot breath on your neck, the smell of whiskey on his breath, the soft brush of lips against your ear.

“It’s your turn to bring the coffees.”

series taglist. @auteurdelabre

#joel miller series #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fanfic

[funnyshapedpuddles]

The Sides as dumb shit my group and I have said

These always make me laugh so I'm making my own for funsies.

Here's the (sanders) sides as dumb shit I or my GC has said.

Virgil: *deleted a message*

Logan: what did he say

Remus: that you smell like a rat's ass

Logan: *leaves the group*

Patton: how you kiddos doing :)

Virgil: jumping off of buildings and such. The usual.

Patton: omg

(That one was with my mom 👍)

Roman: we have such great ideas

Virgil: too bad we don't have enough motivation to put them into action

Roman: next thing you know the government has stolen our ideas and distributed them among the major entertainment companies so no one will believe us when we say the amazing ideas originated from OUR minds and we'll get kicked out and have to live on the streets as rats.

Roman: well you will. I'll be living as royalty once I've weaseled my way into working for Disney.

Virgil:

Virgil: are you good?

Logan: let me show you something cool really quick.

Logan: it's called a ✨comma✨.

Logan: placed between two words to seperate them as individuals when listing off multiple options.

Roman: womp womp

Logan: use the comma, love the comma, be the comma.

Patton: if you go to sleep right now, you'll probably wake up with a hundred messages from me :)

Logan: I'm sure I will. But also why?

Any: I consume too much dairy for being lactose intolerant

Virgil: I consume too much attention for having social anxiety

Virgil: istg atp I run off of MCR, water, and memes.

Patton: *loud laughter for a straight 5 minutes*

Patton: sorry I just needed to laugh

Virgil: that's fine. I wasn't about to call the mental health services or anything.

Remus: someone told me to go die

Janus: you have my permission to use your christmas present early. It's a machete.

Remus: YAY!

Remus: I wonder if dove soap bars have the same texture as dove chocolate.

Roman, joking: why don't you go figure it out

*a few minutes later*

Remus: it doesn't.

Remus: doesn't taste all that good either.

Thomas: my intrusive thoughts just told me to touch the hot pan.

Thomas: can you guess what I just did?

Logan:

Thomas:

Logan: did you touch the hot pan?

Thomas: I touched the hot pan. It hurt.

*the sides finishing a serious discussion*

Patton: for real

Patton: anyways

Patton: KARMA IS THE GUY ON THE CHEIFS, COMING STRAIGHT HOME TO MEEEEEE

Remus: hrrgh soap

Logan: what.

Remus: I shouldn't have eaten the soap.

Logan: what.

Remus: I'm going to kill Santy Claus!

Roman: No! I've worked hard to be a good boy this year, I expect presents! Santa can't give me my presents if he's dead! No killing Santa until I get my pony!

Remus: ...okay, jeez...

Logan: You need three things to make a fire. Oxygen, burnable material, and-

Remus: A will to destroy!

Logan: No.

#sanders sides #incorrect quotes #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders

[gywn]

fannon

- chubs is lactose/gluten intolerant

- roman knows how to make flower crowns because he used to make them for lana

- jude always had voice cracks

- at haven liam would see things that reminded him of something and automatically turn to look for/call cole

- ruby is an evermore girly

- ruby and liam never got married

- ^ but if they did it would’ve been an unofficial one at haven with all the kids

- jude can rap superbass like his life depends on it

- chubs was a lonely child and took up medical practice because he thought if he impresses his parents by doing what they did, they would give him more attention

- liam AND cole have the most batshit illegible handwriting

-and chubs has doctors handwriting

- liam can’t cook to save his life (he tries tho)

- in a normal au clancy and lilian would def be an overprotective mommy and sticky ipad kid duo

#ruby daly #the darkest minds #cole stewart #liam stewart #clancy gray #tdm

[frank-zhang-praetor]

Hello.

Hi, I am Frank Zhang, one of the seven and the one of the Praetor's of Camp Jupiter. I have a girlfriend @hazel-the-jewel. I'm also lactose intolerant so pls don't give me anything with dairy products(this means you Leo) otherwise I will gladly have anything that's offered. These are some of my friends.

@hazel-the-jewel - my beautiful girlfriend, daughter of Pluto and the praetor of Camp Jupiter.

@jason-child-of-rome-grace - our former praetor who is recently going to University here in Camp Jupiter and rebuilding some shrines. Best advisor award goes to this guy. Son of Jupiter.

@death-breath - my girlfriend's brother. Ambassador of Pluto. Son of hades. Pls do not annoy him, I'm tired of the complaints. He is not THAT scary, give him a break.

@the-only-annabeth-chase - The architect of Olympus and the two-time Savior of Olympus. Dating our former praetor @seaweed-brain-here. If Percy ever says yes to something pls go ask her first, we CAN NOT have a repeat of the Unicorn Situation. Most responsible person. She is going to University in Camp Jupiter. Daughter of Athena.

@seaweed-brain-here - our former praetor, two-time Saviour of Olympus. He is also going to University here, in Camp Jupiter. Has the greatest leadership skills, bravest, reckless, most noble and humble person I know. Dating @the-only-annabeth-chase. Son of Poseidon

@p1per-mclean - she can charmspeak, pls DO NOT mess with her. Dating Shel. Daughter of Aphrodite.

@grover-the-can-eater - percy's longtime best bro(sorry Jason). Lord of the Wild. A satyr (faun in roman terms)

@thalia-thehuntress - Jason's older/younger sister?? Daughter of Zeus. Yes, she is Greek.

@leotheflameohotman - hate this guy. Pyrokenetic. Mechanic. Son of Hephaestus.

#pjo rp #intro post #frazel #frank zhang #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians

[ghostismybbygorl]

Alright more headcannons

Pt.1

Ale-ale-jandro

Actually hates the song alejandro by lady gaga. If rudy is mad at him he'll play the song in the car full blast to piss him off

He's 38

Hes got a BIG family. He has 7 siblings he's the oldest out if all if them

hes got a brother (36) with two daughters (6) (8)

A sister (32) with a son (10)

Twin brothers (25) one of them has a daughter (3)

A sister (20) who has a 1 year old girl

A brother (12)

A baby sister (7)

Hes roman catholic and goes to mass regularly with his family

His patron saint is St. Jude Thaddius

Him and soap will go to mass together

He's got a necklace of Guadalupe that his abuelita gave him before she passed. Every time he goes into battle he kisses the necklace and prays to his abuelita for protection

He has a tabby cat named diablo that he rescued off the streets. The cat's a total asshole to everyone but rudy.

Him and rudy are married but no one knows except for his family

This man can salsa dance like nobody's business. Dont get him near tequila or youll be learning how to dance the tango, salsa, square dance everything from him

He's a happy flirty drunk

When he's mad he'll forget how to say english words so he'll just stand there snapping his fingers trying to explain what he's trying to say but getting even more pissed because he can't remember the word.

Accidentally got high off of heroine one time. He was on a mission and somehow a bag of heroine opened up in his face causing him to inhale some. He said it was the best high he's experienced but swore to himself to never do any type of drugs after that experience in fear of getting addicted

Casually pops his neck and it'll crack LOUD

Takes a nap at 3:00 sharp. If he doesn't take his nap he will be bitchy for the rest of the day

He listens to latin r&b when he's relaxing and bad bunny when him and Rudy are alone together.

Being the oldest of the family hes a very nurturing person. When you're sick hes by your side with sopa de fideo, vics cream, and some medicinal tea

This man can and WILL cook. He used to cook with his mom and abuelita when he was younger

He loves to make tamales it reminds him of home

His family goes all out for Christmas everyone has stockings, they all get hella gifts, they sing, dance, bring over homemade food. They all will go to midnight mass and then open presents afterwords when they get home

He's always the best gift giver

His house looks like this and he still lives with his whole family (click the numbers i also have a link to the Pinterest boards if u wanna see more)

1, 2, 3

He has those candies that Abuelas give out

Rudy rudy

Hes actually savage af. He'll absolutely roast the shit out of you and hell say it in the most casual tone

Loves bad bunny

Hes 30

Hes a only child

He has the most obscene slippers

He drinks coffee religiously. He's a regular at starbucks. His favorite starbucks drink is the java chip Frappuccino with two extra shots of espresso and coconut milk

He loves del rosa cookies snd can open them without breaking them. He gets really upset if he does. It happened one time before and he was close to tears

 he loves diablo like its his own child.

He was the one to propose to Alejandro. They where sitting on a couch watching tv when he just pops the question "you want to get married?"

He's scared of anything supernatural. Dont even get him started on horror movies he will legit start praying the hail mary

He gives great massages

He's hella lactose intolerant like reenacting world war 3 in the bathroom intolerant.

since he doesn't have a big family rudy and his family will celebrate Christmas together with Alejandros family.

He absolutely loves the cheesy telenovas

He has a iguana named pakko.

He lives in Alejandro house with his family

He gets really out going when hes drunk he'll start singing and dancing

Price

Religiously plays wordle

He'll bring his bearded dragon into work ever so often. It always creeped ghost out for a while but eventually grew used to it.

He like to put little costumes on his bearded dragon

HE HAS A FAMILY PHOTO OF HIM, HIS BOYFRIEND, DOG AND DRAGON IN MATCHING CHRISTMAS SWEATERS. (He paid ghost big money to make the sweaters)

He doesn't shave his beard at all during november and his beard will get hella long. He usually does this because he dresses up as santa for christmas and goes to children shelter to give children christmas gifts.

He's like hella good with kids, babies especially. If he sees a baby crying he can instantly make it stop crying its like magic dad vibes.

When hes drunk he'll reminisce about the past and tell the same stories over and over. He also gets really nostalgic with laswell

He's the one to throw the christmas parties he takes it hella serious its a requirement that everyone wears a christmas sweater

His house looks like this

1, 2, 3

He has those LOUD sneezes

He takes dad naps. He'll just say he's resting his eyes and then just knock the fuck out.

He saws logs when he naps

Has a squatty potty

Ghost

Knows how to sew and can pretty much make anything. Every year he makes little plushies for everyone for Christmas

He keeps it a top secret but he has a 7 year old daughter that he adopted. Her name is Samantha

When the team first met her they nicknamed her ghoul and she loved it

She has her own little ghost mask and she wears it around the base when ghost brings her to work

Price absolutely adores her and will often volunteer to babysit if ghost is busy with a mission same with laswell

He plays animal crossing in his free time. He says its relaxing or that hes "taking care of the kids island"

His house looks like this

1, 2 3 bonus his daughters room 4

You know the scene in parks and rec when ron swanson was drunk off of snake juice...yeah thats him drunk

He'll face time his daughter when he's away every day

He has chronic insomnia so he'll stay up days on end until hes tired and then he'll pass out on his bed and sleep for a whole day.

He lets his daughter pain his nails. He came in one day with hot pink nails 💅🏼

He has a tattoo of one of his daughters drawing and a tattoo on his ribs of his daughter's handwriting saying "i love you daddy"

His nipples are pierced

He's giving his daughter a puppy for Christmas

Laswell

Her and her wife have a daughter who's 10

She made price her maid (or i guess man of honor?). He was so thrilled and of course sobbed when he saw her walk down the isle

She met price at a football game in london

Shes 40

When shes talking to her wife she'll refer the task as her kids. "Hey do you want to come to dinner with the kids?"

She wears scarfs all the time

Laswells daughter and Samantha are best friends and they will often schedule play dates and sleep over

She gives out the most heartfelt presents. If you talk about something you want 5 months ago she'll buy it and give it to you on Christmas.

Her house

1, 2 3

When theres a party with the boys she, her wife, price, and his boyfriend will watch all the stupid shit they would do and laugh at them

She has a Pomeranian named Annabelle

She does yoga with her wife

She gets sleepy when she's drunk and will probably fall asleep on prices sholder

She loves the smell of rosemary

Soap

He has a apartment which looks like this

1 2 3

He has a girl roommate who keeps the apartment tidy and clean while he's gone. (he very much appreciates her and always cooks and does the dishes for her). She likes to roast the shit out if him when he's home.

He has chronic pain in his right knee which causes him to wear a knee brace occasionally

Hes smokes the elf bars vapes. His favorite flavor is the rainbow candy

He got a tattoo of a heart on his butt cheek. He has absolutely no clue when he got it

He loves tequila drinks

Hes a cocktail type of bitch. The boys will be sipping on bourbon and soap will be over here with like a lemon drop martini or some fancy cocktail.

He wears jockstrap underwear. He says it makes his ass look great but he also wears those funny briefs like the ones that has emojis or cereal theme

When he's nervous he'll start rubbing his stubble

As a April fools prank he grew his beard out and cut it like price's beard. He then proceeded to walk around with his hat and a cigar and act like him for the whole day. He later convinced everyone to do it the next year. Ghost somehow sewed a beard to his mask for this.

He snorts when he laughs hard

He will do any dare someone tells him to do. Gaz jokingly dared soap to snort smarties thinking that he wouldnt do it....he did it......he still smells smarties from time to time.

Ghost and him have matching tattoos if skeletons dancing

He likes to listen to indie alternative music his favorite artist is steve lacy

When soaps drunk he gets all lovey dovey to everyone and he'll start singing sea shanties and pop songs. 

He has a snack stash. Everyone will be debriefing and he'll just randomly pull out a snack and start eating

Hes always hungry and eating. His favorite snacks are gummies, oreos, and Takis 

He will eat ANYTHING i mean ANYTHING. He's tried the weirdest foods out of curiosity and from dares.

Absolutely love's Christmas he wears ungly Christmas sweaters the whole month of december. He has a whole closet full of them

He loves candy canes and will go through multiple boxes of them throughout the month

Hes a nail biter

He's the god father of ghosts daughter.

He has a shower beer after work (a/n: its when you drink beer while you shower very life changing highly suggest it)

Hes really good at soccer

He sleeps in the most random spots and funniest positions. Ghost has a whole folder of all the weird places soap has slept. Everyone will fuck with him in his sleep and do random shit to him here's a few photos of what he would sleep like and what they do

Gazzy

He gets chronic migraines

He is a very VERY emotional drunk. He'll be happy and dancing and next he'll be crying over his goldfish that died 7 years ago

When he's mad his atlanta accent will kick in.

He's very sensitive to certain textures he loves sof blankets and has them littered around his apartment

He's a Very picky eater like the pallate of a 5 year old

He LOVES auntie annes mac and cheese and will eat that on the daily (its his comfort food)

He's allergic to bee's

Loves foo fighters

He can play cello

He's has ocd and will freak out if things dont go his way. Price usually has ti calm him down if he has a freak attack

His favorite anime is darling in the franxxs

He has a whole squishmellow collection on his bed

He really likes to paint him and soap will often chill out in the common room and just do artsy shit together

He loves sending reaction memes

He taught price the woah and now throw the woah at him

If he sees soap the both will look at each other and then do the biggest most dramatic way of the whip

He makes secret handshakes with everyone. Hes still trying to get ghost to do one

He arranges the secret santa and he always gives the most ridiculous presents

He loves to do yoga with laswell and her wife

His apartment looks like this

1 2 3 4

#call of duty #soap mactavish #simon riley #call of duty mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #cod #soap #fanfic #john soap mactavish #cod headcanons #kyle gaz garrick #kyle #kyle garrick #alejandro vargas #alejandro mw2 #cod mw2 #cod mwii #mw2 #kate laswell #laswell #john price #captain price #rudy #rodolfo rudy parra #rodolfo parra

[msbidisaster]

THINGS I FORGET ABOUT PERCY JACKSON

• Gladiola the Pink poodle

• Frank is lactose intolerant

• Hazels original body is just sitting in Alaska. Just there

• Leo could do College level math by age eight

• While Percy is always self deprecating, like EVERY HALF BLOODS PERSPECTIVE ON HIM IS LIKE “He was genuinely very smart, and He practically looked like a Roman god, Percy’s an amazing fighter.”

•There are still people stuck in the lotus casino

•May Castellan is still waiting for her son to come home.

#pjo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians

[phantominzie]

Incorrect Quotes because I have too much free time (and this post is scheduled so dont freak, your favorite clown bitch is not back)

Virgil: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”. Virgil: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”.

------

Patton: You tricked me! Janus: I deceived you. ‘Trick’ makes it sound like we have a friendly relationship.

-------

Remus: When I get murdered, can you make sure I become an unsolved case? Patton: wHat? Remus: I want to be on Buzzfeed Unsolved. Patton: Can we go back to the part when you said "when I get murdered"?

------

Roman: Now, the recipe calls for 2 shots of vodka. Roman: *upends the bottle*

Logan, working at McDonald's: Sorry sir, we don't serve a McFuck here, so either you throw that one slice of pickle out or we're gonna have a McProblem.

-------

Murderer: Any last words? Roman: Do you think I'm cute? Be honest.

------

Logan, writing in their diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.

------

Janus: Whoa, Roman, what’s up with that angry face? Roman: Remus won’t stop talking about how “Ancient Egyptians were furries”. Remus: But they were! Just looks at all their gods- Roman: Oh my god, SHUT UP!

-------

Virgil: My crush isn’t picking up on my hints. Thomas: What hints have you given them? Virgil: Well, I think about them a lot. Virgil: And sometimes I even think about talking to them.

------

Patton: Screw lactose intolerance! I will consume as much dairy as I want! Patton 2 hours later, crying on the floor: WHY DOES IT HURT SO MUCH?!

------

Patton: I don’t even use tubberware anymore. Virgil: What are you saying? Say it again. Patton: Tubberware. Virgil: Say it again. Slow. Patton: Tubberware. Virgil: Slow, very slow - actually, say the first syllable. Patton: Tub. Virgil: Wrong. Patton: What do you mean, wrong? Virgil: I thought I caught that. You’re saying tub. It’s P. Patton: What are you talking about? Virgil: Tupperware. Tupper. Patton: It’s tupper! Virgil: It’s tupper, always has been, always will be. Patton: I thought it was tubberware because it kind of looks like a tub.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #ts sides #incorrect quotes #incorrectly generated quotes #incorrect quotes generator

[mamirhodessxox]

Silly prompts I decided not to publish

Indications of smut

IHYM

🖤💀🖤💀🖤💀🖤💀🖤💀🖤💀🖤💀🖤

“I mean it made sense to put you as an assassin, your killing body count is over 60.” “Okay well I have my reasons.” Cody & Sasha

“So what do we do if we get caught by the fbi?” “We won’t.” 2 hours later “State your name & why your in here please” “god fucking damnit seth.”-Marianna & Seth

“Is sasha okay? She came out here limping.” “Don’t worry about it Barbra. You wouldn’t wanna know”-Barbra & Randy

“Be a good girl & sit here, don’t speak don’t think just look pretty f’me kay?” “Fine but I expect you to fuck me later.”-Cody & Sasha

“WHO THE FUCK RUINED MY DEVILED EGGS FOR EASTER!?” “Uh ohhh…”-Marianna & seth

*Cody & Randy seeing one of romans business buildings blow up during a heist & start running by sasha* “Sasha what did you do?!” “Oh my god stop! I made sure nobody was in there! I’m just a girl.” “It’s like 2001 all over again.” “What did she do in 2001?!” “Nothing you should worry about right now.”Cody, Sasha & Randy

“Guys I think I’m lactose intolerant” “You didn’t think about that when you broke the fucking toilet in 2013?” “Shut up.”-Seth & Cody

“Why is Sasha on the kitchen table singing 80’s music?” “She’s drunk.”-Cody & Marianna

*Barbra holding a 70’s house party & Sasha pushing a fake mustache on his face & seth walks in* “OHh shit! Freddie Mercury in the hizzhouse!” “Shut the fuck up Seth.” “C’mon sing! Sing me bohemian rhapsody.” “I’m going to kill you when your sisters not looking.”-Seth & Cody

“GUYS I THINK I BROKE MY RIB DOING THE FUCKING WORM?!” “I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THE WORM NOBODY DOES THAT IN THE 70S” “OKAY WELL I STILL DID IT!”-Cody & Sasha

“State your name & Age.” “I want to speak to my lawyer.” “You blew up an entire bus full of cocaine. We don’t think you should have a lawyer.”-FBI Agent & Seth

“I don’t think you should cuss around a baby.” “Really? I don’t think you should be around a fucking baby.”-Seth & Cody

“Cody & I have decided that we are just gonna be the cool rich Aunt & Uncle because I really don’t feel like tearing open my vagina for a child who’s got a large head like Cody.” “Okay my head was NOT that big as an infant relax” “whatever You say airhead”-Sasha & Cody

“Now who the hell is gonna give me grandchildren?” “Don’t worry mom I’m still seeing Becky.” “The fact becky still wants you is shocking.”-Barbra, Seth & Randy

“Marianna what did you do with Athena’s body?” “Fed it to an orca.” “HOW THE FUCK DID YOU FEED HER TO AN ORCA?” “I have my ways.”-Randy, Seth & Marianna

“I like my women mentally unstable.” “Of course you do, that why you’re dating my sister.” “She does it so well.” “At being a psychopath? Yeah no fuck.”-Cody & Seth

“Bunny where’s my briefcase.” “I set it on fire and dumped it in the ocean.” “Why the fuck would you do that?” “I thought the FBI was going to raid search the house yesterday.”-Randy & Marianna

“guys look I’m a cowgirl for halloween!” “But can you ride me like a cowgirl?” “Cody can you please let me enjoy this costume and get out of my face?”-Sasha & Cody

“Is Sasha okay I hear screaming upstairs?” “Don’t worry about it.”-Marianna & Randy

*Sasha limping a little bit while walking around a mall.* “Sash’ are you okay?? Did you hurt your ankles?” “No but I hurt her va-“ “OOOKAY CODY…Why don’t you look at cigars or something.”-Marianna, Cody & Randy

“Cody where are my panties?” “I ripped them..?” “Why would you do that?!” “Because i was about to rearrange your guts??”-Sasha & Cody

*Sasha, Randy, Marianna, Cody & Seth sneaking into Romans house* “Does anyone know where Sasha Went?” *Gunshots* “found her.”-Randy & Marianna

“Where is Sasha?” *Random screaming in the kitchen & Seth yelling back* “It’s about to get VERY bloody soon somebody stop her.”-Barbra

“Thank you for taking me out to dinner! I really needed it” “I know you did sweetheart, you almost cut off Seth’s hand for breathing near you”-Marianna & Randy

*Randy & Mari at the mall “CAN I PLEASE GET ONE MORE?” “bunny you said that last time to the last 6 other stuffies” “PLEAAA-“ *Randy buying the 80000th stuffed animal* “Thank you :3”-Randy & Marianna

🖤💀🖤💀🖤💀🖤💀🖤💀🖤💀🖤💀🖤

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @jeysbvck

#cody rhodes #oh my fucking goooood #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes fic #cody rhodes x you #cody rhodes smut #wwe imagine #wwe smackdown #wwe #wweedit #cody rhodes edit #cody wwe #wwe cody rhodes #god breast america shit i mean god brea fuck i mean god breast fuck god brea no god bless americ!! #wwe american nightmare #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes gif #wwe fanart #wwe edit #wwe jey uso #wwe gifs #wwe fanfiction #wwe chyna #wwe wrestlemania #wwe superstars #wwe raw #randy orton x oc #seth rollins x reader

[quitealotofsodapop]

[I feel like Macaque and Libulan would get along very well. Both are moon entities, and are in love with a sweetheart on a mountain]

I just realized moon people get BITCHES

Like just see how many pairings there are!

Jiyu and Ykothe? That's just the moon and the tide!

Macaque and SWK? The moon and the sun!

Chang'e and Hou Yi? That's a representation of the moon and the ground!

Libulan and Sidapa? that's the moon and death itself being married!

Zuanshi and Meng? THAT'S THE MOON AND THE SKY DYNAMIC IF I EVER SEE ONE!

Anywayz, case closed, moon-coded people have rizz. /pos

I probably won't introduce Zuanshi unless you're interested in them (for description, Zuanshi is Jiyu's younger sister/brother)

Relationships regarding moon-coded people are my Roman empire (explanation if you don't get it; In the trend on TikTok, women record interactions with their husbands or boyfriends in which they ask them how often they think about the Roman Empire or to share the last time they thought about it; in short, thinking of a topic VERY often)

Couples with someone moon-coded make me ill in a good way; the trope is so damn bittersweet dairy products to lactose intolerant people. /pos

Posts about Libulan and Sidapa + Jiyu and her wife Ykothe.

Moon god swag/rizz.

Fun fact! Some versions of the Chang'e and Hou Yi myth; Hou Yi is associated with the Sun, as he's the one tasked with shooting down the Sun deities in chinese mythology. Some versions even have him banned to the sun as a mirror to his wife's punishment.

In my native mythos (Ireland), theres no one "moon god", but rather a collection of gods associated with it; Áine is the closest I can think of (goddess of Midsummer + the full moon) though she's more considered a sun goddess. There was also belief that luck was at it's best when the moon was waxing/getting bigger.

The Moon just got a vibe to it. Natural spotlight/timekeeper. You can look directly at it without going blind. All around great planetary object.

#celestial NATO #lmk #lego monkie kid #chinese mythology #philippine mythology #others ocs

[weatherman667]

alright not sure if you're a fan of alt history speculation but lets try it. ireland unifies before even the dane law we'll say sometime around 860. some for high king manages to get the other chiefs to agree to a stable succession of the kingship probably by pointing out they'll get their cattle raided less if they all work together. with a unified Ireland the insular Christian sects of Ireland start to develop a more independent identity from the see of rome. (something that happened in our timeline) this is then further exasperated when the vikings begin raiding europe and communication with the outside world breaks down. and with their doctrine of lay clergy and allowing nobles to own churches rather than the priests and bishops of the roman catholic church the decision is made to have the church of Ireland be lead by the king himself meaning Ireland is a theocratic monarchy. with the churches acting as both sights of worship and military build up. not only that but insular Christianity had the tenets of both medicant preachers and communion, add in the tenate of it reinforcing communal identity and you've got a religion that reinforces itself while rapidly spreading especially as it becomes increasingly fundamentalist. the Irish church comes to spread the Irish culture and language much in the same way. and because of communion allowing for the sale of indulgences and making excommunication a crime this gives the king of Ireland even more power and wealth than any other state excluding perhaps Byzantium and Rome. all in a people who remain very much tribal. they would remain well off the continental stage though since both orthodoxy and catholicism would have declared them a heresy. but having all of Britain being slowly converted to being Irish either through holy wars against the Vikings or through peaceful conversion would be a great consolation prize. it's known that Ireland had discovered the Americas and Iceland before the Vikings I speculate that this version of Ireland having all of Britain being brought under its control would take Iceland back from the Vikings along with the northern islands and start up the colonization of the Americas long before what happened in our timeline. but I'm not sure what would happen after that. keep in mind all of this is happening for hundreds of years. not all at once. thoughts on this alt history and any speculation you might want to add onto it? feel free to go wacky with it

What happened with Ireland is that Rome had the bones of Peter, and the one with the more holy bones wins. It had no trouble flourishing without Rome.

Instead of the High King becoming a Rex Hibernium, it would remain a rotating position. Instead the Kings become Bishops, and the High King the Archbishop.

England also had an insular Christianity. Their mistake was inviting Rome in to help coordinate it.

If Ireland got a stable Christian country ahead of them, it would make it incredibly easy to get the English to join in.

As for Iceland/Greenland/Vinland, it's only a matter of willpower. When the Danes settled Iceland and Greenland, they basically had to run a propaganda campaign to get people to settle there.

Vinland ended because Freydis Eriksdotter wanted a bath... and the natives thought that the cheese given to them was poison, because they were lactose intolerant. It would be extremely easy for that to have been handled a bit more diplomatically. Basically if handled by anyone other than the family of Erik the Red, who was exiled because "of a few murders".

The Danish invasion of England happened contemporaneously with the settlement of Iceland, so, if the Irish helped Aelfred Magnum, Rex Anglorum, push out the Danes, then they would have had a solid bullwark to keep the Danes contained in Jutland and Zeeland. And with a unified will, settling Iceland would be a piece of cake.

While Greenland is a terrible place for settlement, it does have vast mineral resources, and a more organized force could exploit it.

If they wanted to move onto Vinland/Newfoundland, they could have a long established kingdom in Newfoundland and Labrador by the time the English and French arrive to colonize the Acadia and the St. Laurence.

If they controlled Hudson's Bay, it would prevent the Hudson's Bay Company from flourishing, and the HBC literally built Canada.

And I do mean literally built Canada.

Ireland also preserved a lot of books that were lost during the Dark Ages, and the discovery of them helped with the Renaissance. Meaning the Anglo-Hibernian Christian empire would never have had a Dark Ages.

I FUCKING LOVE THIS IDEA.

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

Lactose Intolerant.

Here, have another little ficlet partly inspired by @haysgrove 's Tummy Ache Agenda in which seasoned Tummy Ache Veteran Virgil helps out Roman after a run in with a bowl of cream of broccoli soup. (Takes place after My Negative Thinking)

Roman moaned and curled in a little tighter on himself, arms folded over his protesting stomach. So maybe the cream of broccoli had been a bad idea...

On the plus side, at least the bruising on his face was gone.

It meant he could bury his face further into his pillow and moan as dramatically as he liked. Even if he did sound like the spirit of drowned, disparaged Victorian child as Remus had told him a few minutes ago when he offered to bring Roman a plate of saltine crackers to settle his stomach.

In all reality, it wasn't necessarily that he was in pain exactly, just miserably bloated and horribly gassy.

It was very unbecoming of royalty.

There was another strange gurgling sound, like a drowning eel or something and Roman winced at the cramping feeling that decided to make itself known, reminding that he was, in fact, in some measure of pain.

He didn't even bother to raise his head at the light tapping on his door when it came, distracted and distressed as he was, and called out instead: "Do you have an appointment?"

To his surprise it was the Embodiment of Anxiety that poked his head through the door.

"I have tea?" He offered. "Logan said soup Morality made you would probably upset your stomach and I heard Remus saying he thought you were gonna- he said you didn't feel great, so I made some of the tea that- that Deceit usually makes me when my stomach's upset," Anxiety explained as he crossed the room and set the tea on Roman's nightstand.

"Oh. Th-thank you. That's...thoughtful of you," Roman stammered and started to push himself upright. He got half way there before his stomach protested both with a wave of cramps and loud gurgle. Roman grimaced and ducked his head, his face flushing red. "S-sorry, I'm not-"

But Anxiety waved him off. "Remus eat whole blocks of cream cheese like they're bananas, you're good. I brought this too." He pulled a hot water bottle from his hoodie pocket and offered it to the Prince. "It'll help the cramping."

Roman took it almost reverently. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Anxiety shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "You're welcome? Look, just...don't tell anyone, okay? This kinda thing isn't- Just take those dairy tablet things next time, okay? And if you start feeling nauseous lay on your left side." And with that he dropped though the floor, leaving behind a baffled Roman.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virigl sanders #platonic prinxiety #sanders sides fic #my writing #tummy ache agenda

[haysgrove]

Random things for u to think about

-Remus bites things as stim

-Virgil is lactose intolerant

-Remus knows and if he's with Virgil he carries lactaid

-Janus hates pickles for some reason.

-Remus and Virgil like them

-Remus drinks pickle juice

-Roman likes collecting shells from beaches

-Remus likes teeth

-Patton likes when Virgil does weird stim things cause it cute

-Nonverbal Virgil

-Logan rambles at Virgil to get him to sleep

-Roman and Remus spar/have competitions

-Patton hates when the twins spar

-Remus is a really good cook

-Janus bakes really well

-Virgil steals food

Goodbye

-Rex

thinks abt all of these at the same time and implodes

#ask #Virgil once tried drinking thr pickle juice but he Didnt Like It

[persephoneflowerpetals]

I was tagged by @enchantedchocolatebars to do this little OC questionnaire thingy so let’s go!

do they have allergies?

Nope, Persephone is a goddess so she doesn’t get sick or have allergies or anything like that. There are things that may not agree with her, like in the Driving Test episode of Hercules the Animated Series Hades mentioned that nectar and ambrosia give him gas (I believe in an earlier episode he drank a glass of “nectar flambé” and burped a huge flame lol, so I guess it’s true). I like to think that maybe Persephone is lactose intolerant (because I’m actually lactose intolerant despite my love of dairy lmaooo and Persephone is a self insert OC), so when she eats a lot of ice cream (she loves ice cream btw lol) or cheese she gets a belly ache or gets gas like Hades lmao, but yeah lol. No allergies.

what foods will they not touch?

In a somewhat recent ask someone asked Persephone about what vegetables she likes to eat, so I guess to answer that I’d say most vegetables lmao.

what kinds of music do they like?

I’d say (in the modern age of course lol) that Persephone’s very into pop music and music from the 70s and 80s. Her favorite artists would be Sofia, Madonna, ABBA, and One Direction. Just very girly pop music lol. In fact I have a playlist of songs I think she’d have on her personal playlist lol (I was gonna save this for a post featuring all my Hercules playlists but hey might as a give a sneak peek lol!)

how are they around new people?

Persephone is pretty introverted and shy. She always has been since she was a kid (mainly because her mother was very strict, especially when it came to her making friends), but she does enjoy making new friends. She’s generally very nice and polite towards new people. She doesn’t usually go out of her way to introduce herself to them first or anything.

do they speak in an accent?

Nope. Just like most of the characters in Hercules, she has a general American accent.

have they tried learning a new language?

I mean, not really? She was taught to speak Greek and Italian when she was growing up (because she’s a Greek and Roman goddess), but that’s about it.

how many languages do they know?

Just 3. English, Greek, and Italian.

what is a song that will always make them cry?

Oh, man. That’s good question lol. Uhhh…probably Home by Michael Bublé (that song makes me cry irl lol). Oh and also I’ve Been Waiting For You from Mamma Mia 2: Here We Go Again (legit makes me cry every time I hear it and I don’t even have a baby lmao)

how do they cry? heaving? silently? sobbing?

Depends on the situation and who she’s around. She’s pretty socially anxious and self conscious so if she’s around people she doesn’t know very well she’ll cry silently, trying not to be too loud or full out sob. However, if she’s around people she knows and trusts (like her husband, mom, or friends) she’ll straight up sob. But yeah, how much she cries depends on the situation.

how do they dress? for practicality or fashion?

Well, how she dresses depends on the au lol. But I suppose in the main universe she’s in (the movie/series au) Persephone dresses in traditional attire for Ancient Greece. She mainly dresses for practicality, but sometimes she’ll dress for fashion. Like, her regular attire (her pastel violet dress) is more modest and flowing while her underworld attire (her black dress) is more snug on her body and shows more cleavage (mainly due to Hades’ influence lol).

what is the first thing they notice about a stranger?

Usually, their attitude and personality. If it seems like someone she wouldn’t get along with (like Hades before they fell in love lol) she steers clear of them.

what is their humour like?

She’s got a pretty goofy sense of humor. She likes silly, nonsensical things, like memes and shitposts lol. She isn’t a huge fan of dark humor (unlike her husband), but she’s cracked a dark humored joke once or twice that’s put Hades in stitches lol.

do they have scars? what caused them?

Nope. I headcanon that in the Disney Hercules universe that gods can’t get severely injured (since they’re immortal and can’t die), but they can get kinda hurt and feel pain. Like, if they bump their head on something it’ll hurt or if Zeus throws his lightning bolts at someone lol.

do they wear jewelry?

Nah, Persephone’s not a jewelry type of goddess. She prefers to be more flashy with her clothes than her accessories lol. Also, she doesn’t have her ears pierced (she isn’t a fan of pointy objects being inserted into her skin). In a modern AU she’d probably wear a little bit of jewelry like a wedding ring/engagement ring or a fancy necklace Hades would’ve bought her as a gift lol.

are they a frivolous spender or a miser?

Persephone definitely likes to save her pennies (or drachmas in this case lol). She gets most of her offerings during spring (and she only gets an okay amount of offerings during the “off seasons”), so she tries to make sure not to spend too much money since she’ll need most of it to last until next spring. Of course, she’s not a cheapskate either and doesn’t try to haggle with people to get a lower price on things, she’s just a conscious buyer (much like her husband, though I like to think he probably has more money than she does for many reasons).

do they prefer luxury or practicality?

As I mentioned before, Persephone isn’t much of a big spender, so she’s more for practicality than luxury. Though, she does indulge in her fair share of luxury (since she used to live on Olympus and her husband loves to spoil her), so she’s doesn’t mind luxury.

who would they quote?

Idk lol. In the modern day she’d probably quote a lot of songs, tv shows, movies, and memes lol. But for Ancient Greece, probably some philosopher or writer like Homer or something.

what could make them change their mind?

Well, that depends on the situation. A lot of things could change her mind tbh. She’s a very thoughtful person and tries to take everything into account when making decisions.

who is the first person they'd call?

Before she met Hades it was always her mother, but after marrying Hades she ALWAYS calls on him lol. He’s basically always prepared for any situation and will always have his wifey’s back lmao.

how are they around animals? do they have pets?

Persephone LOVES animals (especially since her best friend is the goddess of the wild lol)! I suppose if you count Cerberus after she marries Hades, then yeah she totally has a pet lol. There’s also Thallo (a unicorn she spends a lot of time with when she’s working in the spring) but she’s more of an animal companion than a pet. Thallo does her own thing and isn’t owned by Persephone or anything. She lives out in the wild with the other animals. Though, she does become a little more domesticated after Thallo meets Pegasus and decides to stay with Hercules and Meg to be with him lol (she also grows a liking towards Meg too lol).

what is their favourite childhood food?

Tiropita

what is something they've never told anyone?

She would secretly love to rule by Hades’ side on Mount Olympus if he ever successfully took over. She’d feel very guilty, but deep down she’d secretly love being the queen of the cosmos.

childhood friends?

Artemis and Apollo

what are habits they've picked up from other people?

Demeter can be a bit of a perfectionist sometimes, so she’s picked that up from her mother, but after marry Hades, Persephone picked up a lot of his habits. She eats odd things like bugs and worms and she uses bits of Yiddish in her vocabulary sometimes.

what are their guilty pleasures?

She LOVES sweets and has a huge sweet tooth, but tries not to overindulge. However, her favorite guilty pleasure is chocolate. Another guilty pleasure of hers is that she likes sappy romance stories/movies. She’s a total romantic lol. And as I mentioned before, she loves cheesy and girly pop music by boy bands and stuff like that.

what is something they're staunchly against?

Murder and cheating (romantically). She also is against the obviously awful stuff like incest, pedophilia, and that kind of stuff too because I mean, who WOULD stand for that kind of stuff?

do they speak a certain way? do they use contractions? popular turns of phrase?

Not really. She speaks pretty politely to people. Sometimes she’ll say little funny exclamations like “aw petals!” or “holy hades!” or “oh my gods!” but that’s about it lol

can they fall in love? what does it look like? does it differ between people -- friends vs family?

….yes 😏 LOL I mean she’s crazy in love with Hades, so y’know lol. But yeah, she has lots of ways to show her love, emotionally, physically, verbally. She loves to kiss and cuddle Hades and doesn’t mind pda at all (but if Hades starts trying to get all “hot and heavy” then she’ll get all flustered and embarrassed lol). She also loves to hold his hand or his arm when they go out together. She also just compliments him a lot reminding him how handsome he is and how lucky she is to be his (when in reality he feels lucky to even be in her presence let alone be married to her) and that she’ll ALWAYS be his. 🥰 As for platonic/familial love, it’s rather normal I guess. Her family drives her crazy, but they’re her family and she still loves them no matter what. She’s also more casual and laid back (just kinda being herself than keeping up the “poised, sweet goddess” personality) around the people she’s close to and trusts wholeheartedly.

what would they rather die than do?

Well, she’s immortal, so she can’t die unless she somehow turns mortal (maybe be by a special little pink potion lol). Anyways, she’d rather die than do anything to harm an innocent. Whether it’s a mortal, an animal, or even a plant. She’d never want to hurt someone or something innocent.

what is their biggest mistake? one that they look out to never do again.

Man, that’s a hard one lol. I guess maybe not sticking up for herself? Like, before meeting Hades she used to let people walk all over her, but now she’s a little more assertive and knows how to say “no” lol. Or maybe letting a loved one get hurt? She doesn’t want to see anything happen to those she loves, so she makes sure she can prevent when she can. But, that’s really all I can think of lol. Persephone’s pretty harmless, so I don’t imagine her doing anything to horrible that she’d never want to do again.

#sorry this took me so long Lucy lol #disney #disney’s hercules #persephone #persephone oc #hercules oc #disney oc #self insert oc #tag game #long post #hercules movie & series au