[REACHES AROUND TO GRAB INTO A HUG]
[yes hello friend]
[BONKS FOREHEADS]
How are you doing?
*hugs super tightly*
*bonks foreheads back*
I’m doing awesome! I missed you all so much, it’s really good to be home again.
[SUPER TIGHT HUGS TIGHT FRIENDS YES YES]
A ha ha—
Well, I missed you too! And now that you’re home, we should do something together—do you wanna dress up? I’m already in the Little Prince outfit that Momma gave me.
—ah?
Well, no, I wouldn’t eat all the candy in the world because I would want to share it! And I would climb a tree to get an apple, yeah, cause I like climbing and I like apples!
…
It really doesn’t matter if I have my hat or not, heh. So I guess no?
[TEXT] i miss you
[TEXT] i wa nna see
[TEXT] you know i wish you lived here
[TEXT] im sure that lovino woul d adopt you
[TEXT] cause he loves you
[TEXT] i love you more thogh
[TEXT] youre one of my best friends
[TEXT] miss y
Tumblr Crushes:
…./REALLY LIKES THIS LIST
(( BABY. ))
Dear Roma,
…
You’re really nice to me, you know that. You’re nice and wonderful and you’re really too good for me. I really wish that we could be together forever, but I know that you’re probably going to go home soon.
I love being around you. I love smiling and laughing with you. I think you’re one of my greatest treasures.
I hope you meet little Francis someday, too. We can be the three muskateers.
Love,
Peter
I fear that I won’t be able to keep up to your expectations.
…
I didn’t even know about your Papa or Toni until the other day.
[he nods his head, a bit enthusiastic, before reaching up to give the other a kiss on the nose—since he can’t touch him.]
Si, si, I promise. I’m sorry if I worried you, and my head is a little better now, okay?
[he smiles, however forced and teary]
I promise, I’m okay.
I—
I’m okay.
It’s fine, really. And Okay. Just tell me if something happens or you get hurt again, alright?
[he nods again, a bit more enthusiastically.]
O—okay. I promise I will, Roma. I promise.
[Grins widely]
Good.
Mmmh!
I’m gonna go draw now, okay? So I’ll call you if things get bad.
[he nods his head, a bit enthusiastic, before reaching up to give the other a kiss on the nose—since he can’t touch him.]
Si, si, I promise. I’m sorry if I worried you, and my head is a little better now, okay?
[he smiles, however forced and teary]
I promise, I’m okay.
I—
I’m okay.
It’s fine, really. And Okay. Just tell me if something happens or you get hurt again, alright?
[he nods again, a bit more enthusiastically.]
O—okay. I promise I will, Roma. I promise.
Okay, no. First off, what the fuck are you talking about, you can’t hurt me—even if you could, I’m a nation, the pain you give me will only last like five minutes, maybe even less. Second, I do what I want when I want, telling me not to do something will only make me want to do it more—unless you’re Aunt Feliciano, only then will be back away slowly, and listen. Three, you are my friend and something’s wrong and even if you say it’s nothing or you’re okay, from where I’m standing you don’t look so “okay”.
And LASTLY, when someone I care about doesn’t look okay, I’m going to keep annoying you until I figure out what’s wrong.
[Walks over to inspect Peter’s head because he’s worried and not going to take his word for being okay]
[he flinches back, before scrambling away and under the covers as the other approaches to inspect him. Gritting his teeth, he buries his head under the pillows, gripping the wood of the beams that support the bunk bed on top.
The wood starts to crack. Eyes shooting open, Peter lets go and buries his fingers into the mattress, digging them in, trying hard not to cry.]
I just—and—
No, I’m sorry, I’m not okay. It hurts a little but I’ll be fine, I will be, don’t worry, alright? I just need to rest more and such.
I’m sorry for worrying you, Roma.
…
[Watches as the other scrambles away and under the covers, not sure if he should keep trying and maybe hurt the other’s feelings. Though as soon as the blonde admits that it hurts a little he continues over to where Peter is.]
You’re a dummy. I’m still going to worry about you and you shouldn’t apologize for making me worried. You should be happy I give a damn enough to worry about you. When I worry for someone it just means I love you enough to want to try and make you better and even if I can’t help, as long as I worry that means I still am here and care. Do you know what I don’t give a rat’s ass if you hurt me or anything because you know what, when you love someone very, very much you’re willing to get hurt for them. That’s what’s being a friend is about. Only jackasses with no brains don’t worry about their friends well-beings. And you know what, I ain’t no fucking jackass, alright?
[Stops walking once he’s next to the bed, not caring if he gets screamed at or whatever and just pulls the boy into a tight hug]
[Peter starts to cry under the covers as the other speaks. He honestly doesn’t know what to say, how to tell Roma that he will get hurt if Peter so much as tries to touch him. And it hurts because Peter lives on those sorts of affections.
When Roma mentions how Peter is special, and that it’s okay to get hurt for the people he loves, Peter makes a strangled noise, a small whimper, because he knows what that means. He knows exactly that feeling, because he’s had it. Over and over and over again. And he knows that Roma has to be strong, and he is strong, because of everything that he’s been though.
They’re not so different.
So he sits up, a bit hesitantly, before rubbing at his eyes with a curled fist—and he winces, because his nails dig into the skin.]
I—
Okay, Okay, Roma. I believe you, I know.
I just—I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re being the dumm—dummy here…
[and when he’s hugged, and Peter lets Roma hug him. But he can’t hug back.]
[keeps the other in his arms for a few moments longer before letting go.]
Pfft. You act as if you don’t know me. I’m the biggest dummy alive next to—well, my brother, and I’m proud of being a dummy. It’s not always bad to be a dummy I mean look at Antonio, and Alfred. They’re dummies, but some of the best people you could meet.
—Mister Alfred and Toni aren’t dummies, you silly. [he buries his face into Roma’s shoulder, not ready to have him let go. He just needs to be held, a lot.
After a few moments, though, he pulls away to rub at his eyes pathetically]
I just…well…I—the magics, and…I can’t let it hurt you, Roma, I would never forgive myself if that happened…!
I don’t want to hurt you, just…I can’t touch you until…until tomorrow.
[Sighs, but nods calming down a bit]
Fine, fine, but tomorrow you have to give me the biggest hug ever, got that?
[he nods his head, a bit enthusiastic, before reaching up to give the other a kiss on the nose—since he can’t touch him.]
Si, si, I promise. I’m sorry if I worried you, and my head is a little better now, okay?
[he smiles, however forced and teary]
I promise, I’m okay.
I—
I’m okay.
Okay, no. First off, what the fuck are you talking about, you can’t hurt me—even if you could, I’m a nation, the pain you give me will only last like five minutes, maybe even less. Second, I do what I want when I want, telling me not to do something will only make me want to do it more—unless you’re Aunt Feliciano, only then will be back away slowly, and listen. Three, you are my friend and something’s wrong and even if you say it’s nothing or you’re okay, from where I’m standing you don’t look so “okay”.
And LASTLY, when someone I care about doesn’t look okay, I’m going to keep annoying you until I figure out what’s wrong.
[Walks over to inspect Peter’s head because he’s worried and not going to take his word for being okay]
[he flinches back, before scrambling away and under the covers as the other approaches to inspect him. Gritting his teeth, he buries his head under the pillows, gripping the wood of the beams that support the bunk bed on top.
The wood starts to crack. Eyes shooting open, Peter lets go and buries his fingers into the mattress, digging them in, trying hard not to cry.]
I just—and—
No, I’m sorry, I’m not okay. It hurts a little but I’ll be fine, I will be, don’t worry, alright? I just need to rest more and such.
I’m sorry for worrying you, Roma.
…
[Watches as the other scrambles away and under the covers, not sure if he should keep trying and maybe hurt the other’s feelings. Though as soon as the blonde admits that it hurts a little he continues over to where Peter is.]
You’re a dummy. I’m still going to worry about you and you shouldn’t apologize for making me worried. You should be happy I give a damn enough to worry about you. When I worry for someone it just means I love you enough to want to try and make you better and even if I can’t help, as long as I worry that means I still am here and care. Do you know what I don’t give a rat’s ass if you hurt me or anything because you know what, when you love someone very, very much you’re willing to get hurt for them. That’s what’s being a friend is about. Only jackasses with no brains don’t worry about their friends well-beings. And you know what, I ain’t no fucking jackass, alright?
[Stops walking once he’s next to the bed, not caring if he gets screamed at or whatever and just pulls the boy into a tight hug]
[Peter starts to cry under the covers as the other speaks. He honestly doesn’t know what to say, how to tell Roma that he will get hurt if Peter so much as tries to touch him. And it hurts because Peter lives on those sorts of affections.
When Roma mentions how Peter is special, and that it’s okay to get hurt for the people he loves, Peter makes a strangled noise, a small whimper, because he knows what that means. He knows exactly that feeling, because he’s had it. Over and over and over again. And he knows that Roma has to be strong, and he is strong, because of everything that he’s been though.
They’re not so different.
So he sits up, a bit hesitantly, before rubbing at his eyes with a curled fist—and he winces, because his nails dig into the skin.]
I—
Okay, Okay, Roma. I believe you, I know.
I just—I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re being the dumm—dummy here…
[and when he’s hugged, and Peter lets Roma hug him. But he can’t hug back.]
[keeps the other in his arms for a few moments longer before letting go.]
Pfft. You act as if you don’t know me. I’m the biggest dummy alive next to—well, my brother, and I’m proud of being a dummy. It’s not always bad to be a dummy I mean look at Antonio, and Alfred. They’re dummies, but some of the best people you could meet.
—Mister Alfred and Toni aren’t dummies, you silly. [he buries his face into Roma’s shoulder, not ready to have him let go. He just needs to be held, a lot.
After a few moments, though, he pulls away to rub at his eyes pathetically]
I just…well…I—the magics, and…I can’t let it hurt you, Roma, I would never forgive myself if that happened…!
I don’t want to hurt you, just…I can’t touch you until…until tomorrow.
Okay, no. First off, what the fuck are you talking about, you can’t hurt me—even if you could, I’m a nation, the pain you give me will only last like five minutes, maybe even less. Second, I do what I want when I want, telling me not to do something will only make me want to do it more—unless you’re Aunt Feliciano, only then will be back away slowly, and listen. Three, you are my friend and something’s wrong and even if you say it’s nothing or you’re okay, from where I’m standing you don’t look so “okay”.
And LASTLY, when someone I care about doesn’t look okay, I’m going to keep annoying you until I figure out what’s wrong.
[Walks over to inspect Peter’s head because he’s worried and not going to take his word for being okay]
[he flinches back, before scrambling away and under the covers as the other approaches to inspect him. Gritting his teeth, he buries his head under the pillows, gripping the wood of the beams that support the bunk bed on top.
The wood starts to crack. Eyes shooting open, Peter lets go and buries his fingers into the mattress, digging them in, trying hard not to cry.]
I just—and—
No, I’m sorry, I’m not okay. It hurts a little but I’ll be fine, I will be, don’t worry, alright? I just need to rest more and such.
I’m sorry for worrying you, Roma.
…
[Watches as the other scrambles away and under the covers, not sure if he should keep trying and maybe hurt the other’s feelings. Though as soon as the blonde admits that it hurts a little he continues over to where Peter is.]
You’re a dummy. I’m still going to worry about you and you shouldn’t apologize for making me worried. You should be happy I give a damn enough to worry about you. When I worry for someone it just means I love you enough to want to try and make you better and even if I can’t help, as long as I worry that means I still am here and care. Do you know what I don’t give a rat’s ass if you hurt me or anything because you know what, when you love someone very, very much you’re willing to get hurt for them. That’s what’s being a friend is about. Only jackasses with no brains don’t worry about their friends well-beings. And you know what, I ain’t no fucking jackass, alright?
[Stops walking once he’s next to the bed, not caring if he gets screamed at or whatever and just pulls the boy into a tight hug]
[Peter starts to cry under the covers as the other speaks. He honestly doesn’t know what to say, how to tell Roma that he will get hurt if Peter so much as tries to touch him. And it hurts because Peter lives on those sorts of affections.
When Roma mentions how Peter is special, and that it’s okay to get hurt for the people he loves, Peter makes a strangled noise, a small whimper, because he knows what that means. He knows exactly that feeling, because he’s had it. Over and over and over again. And he knows that Roma has to be strong, and he is strong, because of everything that he’s been though.
They’re not so different.
So he sits up, a bit hesitantly, before rubbing at his eyes with a curled fist—and he winces, because his nails dig into the skin.]
I—
Okay, Okay, Roma. I believe you, I know.
I just—I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re being the dumm—dummy here…
[and when he’s hugged, and Peter lets Roma hug him. But he can’t hug back.]
kobunroma replied to your post:M!A: For the next twenty four hours, you become three times as physically strong as you are now. You don’t know your own strength and have a hard time controlling it. You are also unable to speak the truth to anyone, UNLESS you’ve never met them before.
…Peter? Are you okay?-Roma!
[he’s startled, so he trips back, falling off the bed. There’s an audiable “crack” as his head hits the ground, and a groan after]
I—I’m fine, Roma. I’m okay.
[blinks shocked by the “crack”, soon running over to the other to make sure he wasn’t bleeding or anything]
B-but I heard a crack and fuck, are you sure you’re okay?
[he’s sitting up, head pressing against the bedframe, eyes wrenched shut and gritting his teeth.]
I—yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Don’t touch me, please, I—I can’t let you get hurt.
Okay, no. First off, what the fuck are you talking about, you can’t hurt me—even if you could, I’m a nation, the pain you give me will only last like five minutes, maybe even less. Second, I do what I want when I want, telling me not to do something will only make me want to do it more—unless you’re Aunt Feliciano, only then will be back away slowly, and listen. Three, you are my friend and something’s wrong and even if you say it’s nothing or you’re okay, from where I’m standing you don’t look so “okay”.
And LASTLY, when someone I care about doesn’t look okay, I’m going to keep annoying you until I figure out what’s wrong.
[Walks over to inspect Peter’s head because he’s worried and not going to take his word for being okay]
[he flinches back, before scrambling away and under the covers as the other approaches to inspect him. Gritting his teeth, he buries his head under the pillows, gripping the wood of the beams that support the bunk bed on top.
The wood starts to crack. Eyes shooting open, Peter lets go and buries his fingers into the mattress, digging them in, trying hard not to cry.]
I just—and—
No, I’m sorry, I’m not okay. It hurts a little but I’ll be fine, I will be, don’t worry, alright? I just need to rest more and such.
I’m sorry for worrying you, Roma.
…Peter? Are you okay?-Roma!
[he’s startled, so he trips back, falling off the bed. There’s an audiable “crack” as his head hits the ground, and a groan after]
I—I’m fine, Roma. I’m okay.
[blinks shocked by the “crack”, soon running over to the other to make sure he wasn’t bleeding or anything]
B-but I heard a crack and fuck, are you sure you’re okay?
[he’s sitting up, head pressing against the bedframe, eyes wrenched shut and gritting his teeth.]
I—yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Don’t touch me, please, I—I can’t let you get hurt.
