#i imagine there’s a LOT of pressure on roman

[let-roman-bite-someone]

i think that something that the fandom doesn’t acknowledge much is that roman is canonically a perfectionist and often stresses over getting work done properly. i have nothing more to add to it, i just wanted to bring this to your attention.

[kingkat12]

all yours (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, phone sex, dark!Roman is back oops, descriptions of sex, foul language, yandere!reader sort of??

summary: why did Letha call?-- actually, the better question is, will Roman let you find out why?

word count: 8,551

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8

a/n: hi lovelies!!! to clarify, there are a few mentions of the beautiful actress Romy Schneider, and I will link her HERE for you to get who i'm talking about!! i had a dream where i called Roman Romy and i thought huh where did i get that from, and then i realized it was because i watched a movie with miss Schneider in it, so there you go!! THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! enjoy!<33

I stared at the missed call from Letha, the glow of the screen illuminating my face as I hid beneath my duvet. Frozen in a fetal position, I listened to the sound of my heartbeat as my thumb inched toward her name. 

It was late-- too late to be awake, and too early to make a decision. The silence of my bedroom wrapped around me as my brows drew together in conflict, my head buzzing incessantly. It felt wrong to contemplate calling Letha back, especially as the cinnamon flavour of Roman's cigarettes lingered on my tongue. If I focused, I could still feel the push of his lips against my neck, and the pressure of his strong arms against my waist. It all made me shiver-- I wasn't sure what it would mean for my relationship with Roman if I called Letha back. How could I guarantee it wouldn't all blow up in my face? 

I groaned, hopefully not loud enough to wake my parents, before I scrolled away from Letha's name. I needed a reminder of why I had thrown my friendship with her away, why I had messed it all up in the first place-- I had to drown out the memory of Letha's laugh somehow.

So, I pressed my phone up against my ear, placing a hand over my heart to feel it thud against my palm while I waited. The beating of my blood quickened when I realized my call was getting answered despite the lateness of the hour;

"Hey, you," 

Oh, I nearly melted at the sound of his voice. "Rome," I echoed, giving into a soft smile.

I heard the shifting of bedsheets in the background; "Miss me already?"

"Yeah..."

"I left, like, two hours ago,"

"So? I can hear you smiling over there,"

Roman's warm chuckle sounded through the other end of the phone, and I imagined him shaking his head. "Say it again,"

It was impossible not to stir-- I couldn't lay still when his voice was so deep and tired. "I miss you," I peeked my head up from the duvet, as it was getting damn warm beneath my covers. "I'm sorry for calling so late, I just... needed to clear my head."

He hummed, stretching; "It's alright, I wasn't sleeping,"

"What were you doing then?"

There was a rather pregnant pause. "... None of your business,"

"Oh?" I propped myself up on my elbows, intrigued. "Roman, are you?--"

"What did you need to clear your head about?"

I realized I wasn't getting anywhere with this, and that I quickly needed to stop thinking about my boyfriend spread out on his bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, slowly palming himself through the fabric-- no, I needed to get my mind out of the gutter. "We didn't get a lot of time to discuss the fact that Letha called,"

"Okay... Do you plan on calling her back?"

My heart only beat harder against my palm, and I had to swallow hard as I laid back down on the bed; "Would you be mad if I did?" The silence that ensued made my hands clammy-- I ended up wiping them on my duvet as I waited for his answer, holding my breath. 

"Maybe?" Roman sighed, and I heard him tossing around in his bed. "I don't know what this feeling is, but... I just know it makes my chest burn. Doesn't feel good."

Something about his cluelessness made me want to grab his pretty face and pepper it with kisses. "Could be anxiety?"

"Nah, I don't have that shit,"

"Oh, Roman, everyone gets a little anxious sometimes!--"

"Stop rolling your eyes, I can hear it,"

Shocked, my heart nearly stopped-- he was right. I had rolled my eyes, and it freaked me out that he knew . "Fine... I won't call her back, then,"

"Alright,"

"You don't have to worry,"

"Alright,"

"Uh, do you have anything else to say other than alright?--"

"No,"

"... Alright," My brows drew together in confusion, wondering why Roman was retreating into his shell of emotional neglect. It was clear to me that the subject of Letha made him deeply uneasy, that he was probably worried she'd need me to break up with him for us to be friends again, but I tried to find comfort in the fact that he was scared to lose me... despite not being able to say that out loud. 

Still, Roman always managed to surprise me-- I heard him sigh once more at the other end of the phone, but this time, in a sulky manner. "Could you say it again?"

"Say what?"

"What you said in the car," I could hear the embarrassment in his voice, knowing he didn't usually make requests like these; "That you're mine."

My eyes widened just a smidge, staring up at my ceiling with a bewildered look on my face. The tone of his voice made my stomach flip, wondering why my brain went haywire for the needy sound of his request. I did my best not to squeal and kick my feet like a little girl-- "All yours, Rome,"

A hum; "All mine?"

"All yours," My smile spread wider than ever before, joy blossoming in my chest. "Only yours."

He let out a shaky breath-- "Shit... don't say it like that,"

"Like what?" 

"Like that," Roman shifted around in his bed, and I heard him kicking away his duvet. "I was already horny before you called, don't make it worse."

I was afraid my eyes would pop out of my skull as my air caught in my throat. So he had been doing what I thought he'd been doing? "You were the one who asked me to say it," I tried, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my body. This was definitely not going to help me sleep. "Why were you even doing that right now? It's so late!"

Roman only laughed-- "That call from Letha fucking cockblocked me in the car, what do you expect?"

"Christ," I mumbled, shaking my head as I pressed my palm against my forehead. Something about this was too damn thrilling. "So you're still... y'know?"

"Yep,"

"And... you're doing it right now?"

Another laugh ensued, deeper this time."Nah, I'm not that creepy. Just waiting for it to go down now... which is why you can't tell me you're mine with that sexy little voice of yours,"

Gosh, how that took my breath away. And even worse, was the maelstrom of ideas churning in my head about ways to milk this situation-- I really hoped my parents were asleep for this one. "Roman?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm all yours,"

As expected, Roman groaned on the other end of the line. "Is that a green light?" he breathed. "Don't fuck with me right now, my brain doesn't work properly when you're involved."

I hadn't blushed like this in ages-- "I'm here if you want to go for it," Never in a million years did I think I would be having phone sex, especially not with Roman Godfrey. If someone had told me a month ago that this would be happening, I would've fainted on the spot. 

Roman's laugh was deep, warm; I pressed the phone against my cheek as my hands trembled in excitement. "Go for it," he echoed, a mocking tone about it. "I'm not doing this shit alone!"

"Oh?" 

"Not a fat chance in hell, baby. What are you wearing?"

My brows drew together as I realized what he was up to. Nervous, I lifted my duvet to check. My mind was so clouded by the thrill that I had genuinely forgotten what I was wearing. "Uh... A big t-shirt and my underwear?"

A hum. "What colour?"

"The t-shirt?" I wasn't sure why that mattered. 

Another laugh from Roman ensued-- this was probably the moment it dawned on him that I hadn't done this before either. "Fuck it, we'll skip this part," he murmured. "The panties, babe. Take them off." 

I let out a soft, nervous laugh, my trembling hands scurrying to take them off. As I laid my head back on my pillow, discarding my underwear somewhere along the bed, I pressed my phone back up to my ear just at the right moment-- I heard Roman's short, ragged breath, presumably resuming his activities. "Ugh, I miss having my mouth on you," he breathed, shifting around. "I've told you how good you taste, right?"

"Yeah, you have," His words made me want to squeal and throw my phone across the room, my brain going haywire. "I don't get it, but I'm not complaining. I like having you between my legs."

"Good. I'm planning to be there quite a lot,"

I squeezed my thighs together-- this was making me aroused a lot quicker than I was willing to admit. Still, I decided to be bold; "Too bad we were interrupted today... Was looking forward to having my mouth on you as well,"

"Right... As if you'd do that in my car on that open street,"

"There was no one there!" I rolled my eyes at the sound of Roman's laugh. "What I'm trying to say is that I'd like to try one day."

"Yeah?" His voice was deeper now, raw-- "You'd want me to teach you how?" 

I could only imagine the sight of him now; the way he closed his eyes, his hand wrapped around his hard cock as he worked his fingers around his shaft. I nearly lost my breath just thinking about it, and suddenly my mind was throwing me images of how it would be to wrap my mouth around it. How Roman would hold my hair, slowly buck up into my mouth with a soft grunt, telling me how good I was doing, how nice it felt-- I had a hard time snapping out of it. "Would love for you to teach me everything,"

"Fuck, baby," I could hear the shaky motions of his breath, the way it was on the brink of hitching. "Gonna take my time, teach you all I know... Don't you worry."

"You will?"

"You bet," Roman's voice was now barely a whisper against the phone, his words catching in his chest. "Gonna teach you how to take my cock, I know you'll do so well... So, so well, just like everything else you do."

That was it-- I reached between my legs, closing my eyes as I placed my fingers against my clit. It was impossible to stay away now. "You'll take care of me, won't you? Go slow?"

"Of course I will-- hah," 

My breath grew unsteady; "Shit, Rome, you've got me wet in record time," I dipped my fingers a little further down, feeling my arousal pooling between my legs. 

"Yeah? Well, I'm damn hard for you," he breathed, a soft, quiet moan following. "Wanna sink into you, feel your tight little pussy around me..."

Had I not been so out of it, I would've called him out for being vulgar. Roman hadn't been this dirty before. My cheeks were downright burning.

"Wanna fuck you so good, you'll never leave. You'll just keep coming back, letting me make you cum over and over..."

I was squirming at this point-- oh, what I would give for Roman to be here with me right now. Have him wrap his arm around me, rub my clit for me, whispering all these dirty things into my ear instead of through the phone. "I won't leave, Rome,"

That seemed to be the most compelling thing I could've said. I could almost hear the way he threw his head back against his pillow, a small, wanton moan escaping his lips; "You're all mine, baby... Only mine, aren't you?"

Who would've thought this was the thing that would break Roman Godfrey? 

"All yours,"

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I was rather anxious to see Roman the next day at school-- I didn't know how to deal with all the dirty stuff we talked about on the phone last night. How was I supposed to look him in the eyes, knowing he thought about me like that? I wasn't complaining, but it was incredibly foreign.

We hadn't talked much today, other than the usual good morning text, and I dreaded answering the text he sent me right afterward;

romy schneider: did you sleep well?;)

I was aware that it sounded innocent, but it was impossible not to hear Roman's voice while reading it. All breathy, the signature smirk on display, roping me in with one hand on my waist as he whispered it into my ear... No, I couldn't answer it. Just thinking about it made me blush. 

I had made it to second period without seeing any members of the Godfrey family, all until I had to cross the campus to get to my next class. There he was, not too far away from the football field, leaning against a lamp post as he lit his cigarette. 

Roman hadn't noticed me yet, and a part of me hoped he wouldn't just yet. I wanted to take my time, watch the way his hair fell over his forehead in gentle motions as he lowered his head towards the lighter, the way his lips wrapped around the cigarette, and the way his beautiful green eyes suddenly darted up and landed right on me--

I nearly squeaked, stopping in my tracks as my breath caught in my throat. Even worse, was the cough that choked itself out of me. I hadn't expected him to notice me staring, not when I was this far away. My hands trembled as I tried to pull myself together, catching a glimpse of Roman's classic smirk as his cigarette lay comfortably between his lips. His eyes darkened, a mischievous shimmer in his gaze as he motioned for me to come over.

I was a mess by the time I reached him, and I tried to rub my clammy hands off my shirt in a way that wouldn't give away my stress. Still, I had an inkling he knew, and I only made it worse for myself when I opened my mouth; "Hey, dude,"

Immediately, it felt like my brain was on fire-- what was that? Stupid, stupid!

Roman seemed taken aback by that as well, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Since when do you call me dude?" He stifled a chuckle, taking a long drag of his cigarette; "I know about Romy Schneider, but this is new."

I only called him Romy Schneider to tease him on days he was exceptionally pretty (which could technically be any day), but dude? Now, it was downright obvious how nervous I was. "I-- Okay, just forget I said that," Kicking away a nearby rock, I lowered my gaze, no longer able to meet his. Roman's face was enough to unravel me, especially after what had been said last night. 

Still, he laughed, blowing out a simple ring of smoke. "You're nervous,"

"Am not!"

"Fine. Look at me, then,"

Clenching my jaw, I adhered. My lashes fell heavy over my eyes, my lack of sleep stirring in my chest as I scanned my boyfriend; he was so handsome today, so calm. Roman leaned down, now balancing his cigarette between his fingers as he lowered himself to my level, inches away from my face in a rather intimidating manner-- the tension was so thick, I could probably run my fingers through it. "Is someone a little embarrassed?" he cooed, nudging my shoulder. "Not used to me running my mouth like last night?"

I was relieved to know I didn't have to explain why I was so flustered today-- still, I was being painstakingly put on the spot. "You always run your mouth, Rome, that's nothing new,"

"Not like that, though," Roman's eyes were practically sparkling. "It's alright if you can't take it. Just tell me if you can't."

Can't take it? Who did he think he was? There was a burning challenge in his voice, and mixed with my slight offense, it only lead to the following; "I can take it," I huffed, stepping forward. "You think I can't?"

Roman hummed, the corners of his mouth curving up into an evil grin. "Nah, I think you can. You're a quick learner," He pressed a short kiss against my cheek before straightening up, placing his cigarette back between his lips before leaning against the lamp post again. "You can keep up with me, right?" he mumbled in between a drag. "I'm not scaring you back into Letha's arms?"

Roman said it with a sense of humour, but I couldn't help but catch onto the anxiety hiding behind his words. My brows drew together, watching as he finished his cigarette and threw it to the ground, stomping it. I cleared my throat; "I thought we talked about this last night... You're quite hung up on this Letha thing, aren't you?--"

"No," 

That was too quick to be believable. "Rome?--"

"I'm not," As he turned back to me, Roman's eyes narrowed. I had forgotten how quickly his demeanour could change, with the snap of a finger. Suddenly, he was cold. "Stop projecting on me. You're being dramatic."

Huh? There was no way to contain the grimace that followed. My eyes widened, bewildered that he was snapping at me. That truly came out of nowhere. "What?" I breathed. "I'm not projecting-- Why is this setting you off so bad? We don't even know why she called me or what she truly wants!"

Roman groaned; it was clear that he hadn't meant to instigate a fight. Especially not on school grounds. "Jeez, could you lower your voice? People are staring," His cheeks redded a little as he caught the eyes of a few students passing us by, and he lowered his gaze to the ground, cursing under his breath. 

I took a quick glance around, snorting as I turned back to him. "Roman, now that you're my boyfriend, I'm comfortable enough to tell you that you can't snap at me like that anymore. Or talk to me like that, for that matter. Ever! Those days are over, do you hear me?" 

Roman's eyes widened to the likes of big, shiny plates of china, staring back at me with a look of both anger and horror. His lips drew a straight line and his jaw clenched before he spat pure venom; "Wow... You really know how to make a big deal out of nothing," 

Those words chilled me to the bone. Shellshocked, I took a step back, holding my breath as my eyes drilled into his. Roman's chest rose and fell in slow, long motions, none of us knowing what to say. 

It was at this moment that I heard a cheerleader-cry coming from the football field, catching my attention. My gaze went past Roman and to the team that was practicing, doing some sorts of somersaults in the air as they howled the school's motto. And as we stood here with a clear view of the cheerleader team, practically hiding behind this lamp post, something dawned on me-- why had Roman been standing here in the first place? Why this exact place?

He seemed to be catching onto my trail of thoughts, turning to glance at my transfixion. It gave me a moment to lose face, opening and shutting my mouth as I flailed my arms in exasperation. It only got worse when I realized several girls on the team were waving at him, and I recognized one of them to be one of his earlier flings. Was it the one he screwed back in March? Then, it suddenly dawned on me that Roman wasn't turning back to me, his gaze now resting on the waving cheerleaders and their ridiculously short skirts as he nodded to himself in boyish approval-- 

My heart sank all the way down to my shoes. "Really, Roman? Really?" I didn't expect my voice to be so frail, so upset. 

He sensed my tone, finally laying his eyes on me with an irritated look about him. Roman reached up to move his hair out of his forehead, running his fingers through his hair as he spoke; "What is it now? Just appreciating the view,"

"Appreciating... the view?" I was stunned. Stunned. It felt as though he had stabbed me right in the chest-- who the fuck talks like that to their girlfriend? "I'm glad to see you're invested in the relationship I threw everything away for. Thank you for the reminder, Roman, that you're still just a guy."

With a laugh, Roman was back to smiling-- he was giving me a severe case of whiplash. "What? They're waving at me, it's normal to check out who it is! You know I'm not going anywhere, right?"

No, I had to look away. I couldn't think clearly now that he looked so charming again. Why did he have to be so hot and cold? I had hoped we were past this on the spectrum of Roman-ness. It only got worse when he stepped forward, pressing a warm kiss to my temple. "All yours," he whispered against my skin, placing his hand on my cheek as he towered above me. "Let me walk you to class, hm?"

I had to take a deep breath, my eyes closing to relish in the fact that Roman was kissing me so openly in front of everyone, especially in front of the cheerleaders. Still, I knew I had to gather my thoughts-- the discomfort was lingering in my chest, the creeping unease settling in my mind. I didn't want to let this slide. 

I strained a smile to mask my inner turmoil as I put my hand over his, getting up on my tippytoes to press a shy kiss to Roman's lips, feeling him sigh against me. It was short, sweet, and like a temporary band-aid. So when I pulled away, it felt like I was ripping it off with all my might-- I didn't want to. I forced myself to speak, clearing my throat; "I'll walk myself to class, thanks," 

I could see it in his eyes that he was taken aback, not expecting that I would turn down his offer. The flicker of confusion streaked across Roman's face like a flash of lightning. "Uh, okay... What subject do you have now?" he tried, an attempt to drag out our time together.

"... I'm gonna be late," I couldn't help myself-- I pressed a kiss to his cheek, wanting to feel him once more. If there was one thing I could find solace in, it was the fact that I could kiss him as often as I wanted to now that we were together. "Please find another place to smoke. You're breaking my heart."

That seemed to land a blow to Roman, whose brows drew together in a look of hurt. I was reminded of his promises to not hurt me, to do his best to keep me happy, and I left him by the lamp post hoping he remembered his words as clearly as I did. 

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And I thought my unease wouldn't get worse. As the days flew by, I was positive, hopeful even. However, staring down at the messages Letha sent me this morning, I couldn't help but feel a sense of doom as I waited for Roman's last class to be over.

Several days had passed since the last time I saw Letha at the gas station, where she had tried to apologize to me. Her words of longing, how she insisted that she missed me and never meant for anyone to get hurt, had etched themselves into my mind, unable to be forgotten. 

So, I figured it wouldn't do any more harm to read what she had written. I had waited all day to open her messages, after all. It was gnawing on my mind at this point-- My thumb hovered above the message notification, and I held my breath as my eyes grazed the words on the screen;

letha: hey... i didn't expect you to answer my call a few days ago, much less call me back, but i don't want to give up just yet. i want you to know how sorry i am that you were hurt and that i no longer talk to Jasmine, but that you deserve to know the truth after everything you've been put through this past month. i know you and Roman are a couple now, since he told me at dinner... and frankly because the whole school won't shut up about my baby cousin no longer harassing everyone. who would've thought?

letha: you were once mine, and i was yours. i might never fully forgive you for going behind my back, but you were my best friend in the whole world. i'm so tired of acting like i don't miss you. could we please talk?

letha: you need to know the truth about Roman. please.

I should've known this was a bad idea. I should've known. Pressing my phone up against my chest, feeling my heart beat against it, I squeezed my eyes shut as the school bell rang. Several students rushed out of the doors in the hallway, and I knew I had to get myself together before Roman saw me so out of it. 

He and I hadn't been properly alone for a while. Although I had missed him and his lips against mine, I was still seething inside about him staring at the cheerleaders and the awful conversation before and after. I was still battling my jealousy regarding the situation; why had he been so snappy, all of a sudden? And why did he feel the need to appreciate the view? Everything about it made me nauseous. 

Still, I didn't deny Roman when he caught up with me at lunch earlier today and asked me to wait for him after school. He had been so incessant, so sweet-- I missed my little devil, no matter how insecure he made me.

I got a few odd looks from the people passing me in the hall as I harshly patted my face in an attempt to snap out of my dark spiral of thoughts. Unfortunately, Roman also caught this just as he stepped out of his classroom; "What are you doing?" he asked, grimacing.

Flustered, I watched him throw his backpack over his shoulder, towering over me as I was pressed further against the wall behind me. Despite his look of disapproval, he still looked ridiculously pretty today-- Romy Schneider. His hair was styled in a classic heartbreaker look, the green in his eyes fixating on me as he tried to find a reason for my odd behaviour. 

"Nothing," I lied. "Trying not to fall asleep. I've been waiting for your class to be done for, like, an hour."

Roman hummed, leaning down to place a quick kiss on the top of my head. "Thanks for waiting. It's nice to see your face," He placed his free hand on the small of my back, leading us to walk down the hallway. "So... There's a movie going down at the cinema tonight, and I think we should go and make out in the back. Thoughts?"

I held back a sickeningly girly giggle-- my heart fluttered uncontrollably, and it was as though all my anger melted away. "Which movie is it?"

"Not sure. Some Serbian silent film from the sixties,"

"Oh... Right up our alley, then," 

Roman's laugh nearly made me blush. Accompanied by the small squeeze of my waist, I allowed myself to keen against his body, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction. 

This was my favourite part of the day. Being paraded down the hall for everyone to see. At this moment, I forgot about my sorrows with Letha, and could suddenly feel the pride blooming in my chest as I got a few jealous, scorching stares from a group of girls passing us by. It only got better when I realized they were cheerleaders-- my eyes followed them, narrowing as a rather evil grin spread across my lips.

That'll show them. I was ready to cut off the heads of the next ones that waved at my boyfriend.

I leaned against Roman's touch, feeling his hand resting at my side. Something told me he was putting up a bit of a show to make up for the incident by the football field a few days ago, and honestly? I liked this. I could live with this. 

Roman caught up with my little feeling of victory, snickering to himself as he playfully rolled his eyes; "Getting high?"

"Yeah," I breathed, feeling my cheeks get rosy as he stroked his thumb along my skin, caressing me as we continued down the hall. This was certainly a high-- one I had longed for. In a flash of confidence, I obnoxiously turned my head to watch the seething cheerleaders, flashing them a vicious smile. Bitches. 

Roman tsked, the signature smirk forming across his lips. He noticed my glee-- "What do you say we give them a show?" he murmured, his green gaze darting back to me, his burning eyes full of dark agenda. 

I didn't have time to protest or agree as Roman grabbed my shoulders, leading my back up against the nearby lockers. Oh, everyone would definitely hate us more now-- but I could only smile up at him and bask in the feeling of mutual thrill. 

"Are they still looking?" Roman whispered, biting his lip to contain his excitement. 

A quick glance-- "Yeah,"

His eyes practically sparkled. "Good," Suddenly, he snaked one hand around my waist as the other rested against my cheek, his thumb hooked under my jaw to tilt my head up-- It was easier to kiss like that, seeing as he was practically taller than a fucking tree. Roman leaned forward, brushing his lips across mine, feeling the coolness of my breath against his skin, contrasted by the warmth of my quick breath through my nose over his cheek. Then, the soft pillow of his mouth pushed against mine, the pressure so adoring it made my blood heat all the way into my fingertips.

Roman had tried to do similar things in public multiple times before we became official, but I had shut him down every time. Before, it would've terrified me out of my mind to do something so bold; to make such a statement in front of the school that I was his, to show I was so dizzyingly into him that I would let him do this to me in public. But here I was-- craving it. 

It was a show of power, and of submission and belonging; Roman's lips were deadly soft, but there was a hint of something more fiery, sincere. My hands quickly tangled into his hair, pulling him closer as I savoured both the moment and the taste of his cinnamon cigarettes on his tongue. 

Roman's plush lips were slightly parted, moving a little as though he was whispering a question-- it was so painfully sweet.

Sweet.

And I imagined the sight to be a gut punch to the cheerleaders watching us from down the hall. I wondered whether they had ever seen this side of Roman before, felt this side of Roman, or whether he hadn't bothered to act as though they interested him. Everything about it made me smile-- there was a sinister satisfaction in it. 

I sighed against the kiss, a soft smile splayed across my lips as Roman pulled away, gently nudging my nose with his before he straightened up. "Could you stop giving me grief now?" he teased, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Everyone knows we're together. No one's gonna try anything after this, I'm not into the cheerleaders, and I'm dying to roll around in your bed after the movie. Maths always fucking drains me."

Giggling, I reached out for his hand. "Why can't we roll around in your bed, for once? I still haven't been to your place,"

Roman shrugged, intertwining our fingers as he lead me away from the locker. "My mom is crazy, and yours isn't. It's easier that way,"

"Oh?" It struck me that he never actually talked about his parents-- "What do you mean?"

Roman remained quiet as he led me out of the main entrance, and we were now walking hand in hand down to where he had parked his car. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it, that he maybe wasn't ready for it. As I spotted his unease, I wrapped my arms around his, clinging to it-- and I was sure he'd have smiled down at me, had the following not happened.

Our steps came to a halt before I could realize why he froze. I glanced up at Roman, about to ask him why he stopped so abruptly until it became glaringly obvious.

Because there she was, leaning against the bonnet of his car-- Letha. Her nervous gaze flickered between the both of us, breaking out into an anxious laugh as she shoved her hands into her pockets. "I thought I would see the two of you here," 

Her perfectly styled blonde hair lay in soft waves over her shoulders, her kind, green eyes piercing me with the softest impact as she searched my face for a reaction other than horror.

I hadn't expected to cling to Roman as hard as I did, but now it felt like I was holding onto him for dear life. My blood ran cold, my whole body freezing over at the sight of her. It was damn awkward meeting her knowing I had ignored all her attempts at reconciliation, and I wanted to crawl up Roman's shirt and hide.

Nonetheless, I planted my feet on the ground and watched as Roman balled his fists, inhaling sharply to contain his disdain; it was clear that he didn't want to see her either. "Letha, I told you not to do this," he said, jaw clenched. "She obviously doesn't want to talk to you."

With small steps, I dared to partly hide my body behind Roman. Free shield, no? This whole meeting had me mortified, wanting the ground to open up and swallow me whole-- I didn't expect my heart to beat so hard, and I prayed it wasn't audible.

Letha cleared her throat, visibly uncomfortable. Her kind exterior started to crack, hardening. "I've just been going insane... I wanted to ask if you've gotten my message?" Her green gaze darted towards me as she asked me the question, and the meeting of our eyes made my grip around Roman tighten. "What message?" he echoed, looking down at me with clear disdain. It felt like his stare was drilling holes into my brain, scanning my inner thoughts to dig out the truth-- I was cornered. 

Fuck. "I didn't have time to tell you yet..." This was downright horrifying, and I tried to make myself smaller as I avoided Roman's burning gaze. "She says she just wants to talk, Rome."

Roman groaned, instinctively pulling me further behind him. I was fully sheltered now, and my breath caught in my chest as his next words came out sharper, harsher, as he turned to his cousin; "Letha, she doesn't want to talk to you! What is so hard to understand here?" 

Oh, so he was speaking for me now?

Letha groaned, rolling her eyes. "How the fuck am I supposed to know if she's the one avoiding me or if you're telling her to? Come on, Ro!" She stepped away from the car, raising her voice; "Can't you at least step away? She doesn't need you to fucking shield her or speak for her!--"

"You don't know crap about what she needs!" Roman barked, fury burning in his voice. "You threw it all away! Face that you screwed up! And for the first time in my life, I'm needed, and I will shield her as I please!" He glanced back at me, motioning for me to start walking with him to the car.

My breath caught in my throat, not daring to tell him no. Not when he was in this mood, definitely not. 

With quick steps, Roman pulled me along with him. "Stop bothering her," he hissed in Letha's face, opening the door to the passenger seat for me. "You've done enough damage. Enough." 

I sank into my seat, not meeting Letha's broken gaze as Roman made his way to the driver's seat. I didn't need to see her to know what she looked like right now-- green eyes probably glossed over, her slender arms wrapping around her for comfort. 

It only got worse when Letha called my name, her hurt voice making it impossible to avoid her anymore. When I finally turned to her, listening to the sound of the car starting, it almost felt as though I was looking into a mirror. I was sure I looked just like that when Letha abandoned me crying on the bleachers, calling me a whore when I told her about my feelings for Roman before she stormed off. My heart tore into a million pieces, looking into the teary eyes of the girl who used to know me better than anyone else. 

Still, did I owe her the kindness of pity? She certainly hadn't shown me any. 

I didn't have time to think about it-- Roman quickly drove us out of the school parking lot, groaning as he ran his fingers through his hair with his free hand. I could see that he was still seething, eye twitching as he gripped the steering wheel with a little too much power. 

"Such bullshit," Roman cursed-- I hadn't seen him this pissed before. "She has no right to bother you anymore. I fucking told her!" 

"She just--" Letha's big, green eyes of sadness haunted me. It made my heart clench, my soul crumble. "She seems really desperate to talk, Rome."

He glanced at me, just for a second, with apparent disdain. "So? I don't get why you're even entertaining the thought of giving her the chance to!" His grip around the wheel only tightened as he turned his gaze back on the road. "But Letha's got quite the nerve to just show up like that... She's begging for you to forgive her so her guilty conscious gets relief, it's damn selfish! It's not about you at all!"

"Why not?" I turned in my seat, feeling my frustration simmer. "Why would it not be about me? Is it so crazy to think she might just want us to be friends again, that I'm someone worth being friends with?"

"That's not-- She doesn't want to be your friend!" 

"Then why the hell is she doing all of this?"

"Because Letha obviously doesn't want us to be together, don't be so naive!"  Vexed, Roman hit the steering wheel with a loud groan-- it made me jump in my seat. "If you think she's forgiven you for going behind her back, think again! This is her taking revenge on me for all the times I've messed with her friends, okay?"

I didn't want to think about him and Letha's long list of ex-friends; it made me nauseous. I resorted to balling my fists, trying to collect my thoughts. "You didn't even let me hear her out..."

Roman snorted, rolling his eyes as he adjusted the rearview mirror. "You're making it sound like I'm a controlling asshole. May I remind you that you were hiding behind me, holding onto me for dear life?" He turned to me, a sharp look in his green eyes; "And when the fuck were you going to tell me that she texted you?"

Oh... That. 

Honestly? I had hoped to get a little more time to think about it. To at least have that opportunity. "I would've told you sooner if you hadn't drooled all over cheerleaders that day," I knew it was a reach, but I didn't know what else to say. As I crossed my arms over my chest, I truly felt how little I had processed that situation. "Appreciating the view, as you said!"

Another groan, along with one more hit against the steering wheel; "They waved at me, it's normal to check who it is when someone waves at you!--"

"I don't give a shit, the thing that matters is that the girl who waved was the one you fucked in March!--" 

... Oh no. He didn't need to know that I kept track of that.

"... What?" Roman's angry expression turned confused as his grip loosened around the wheel, quietly trying to process what I had just said. 

As soon as those words slipped past my lips, I felt my throat go dry as I pressed my back against the seat. Why would the leather not split apart, swallow me whole, and allow me to avoid the aftermath? I hadn't expected to blurt that out; there was no going back now. "Yeah... And now she's waving at you like she possibly has a chance with you, because maybe you like making her think she still does! How do you think that makes me feel?" 

Roman looked like he was two seconds away from ripping the steering wheel off its hinges, eyes wide and burning with fury. "What the fuck are you accusing me of here? And since when have you been keeping up with my sex-life?!"

Sure, I walked right into that one-- I suddenly felt like I had been transported right back into the time I watched Roman from afar. The way I'd watch him throw tater tots at the cheerleaders to catch their attention, the way he'd make me feel small by pulling my hair as he passed me in the halls, and how I had gotten used to the sight of him disappearing upstairs with girls at parties wishing that was me. 

It felt like I was that girl again; the one that kept track of everything he did. The one who would compulsively wash my hands if I was introduced to one of his previous flings through Letha. The jealousy, the obsession-- it was all hitting me now. Especially as I turned to watch him, how his lips were angrily pressed shut, confusion visible on his pretty face. 

It was too damn overwhelming. I realized my hands were trembling as they reached for the hem of my shirt, anxiously ripping at the seams as always. However, through the storm of feelings coursing through me, I heard Letha's melodious laugh as my memories flooded my mind-- She had been my anchor through it all, despite the fact that she never knew about my feelings for Roman.

No, no, no-- I hated how emotional this made me. "I threw away everything with Letha to be with you, so I'm sorry that I'm paranoid. I don't think you get that she was everything to me. But even despite that, she was my moon and you were... the sun,"

Roman's grip around the steering wheel loosened as his lips parted in uncertainty, brows drawing together as his gaze flickered between me and the road. "You didn't know me back in March," he mumbled, still processing. "That makes no sense--"

"I carved our initials into a tree in March,"

"... Oh," 

My gaze darted back down to my lap, checking out what I had done to my sweater. There were a few loose threads now, that's for sure. I almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of it, suddenly remembering how I had gotten so lovesick that I drove my keys into a tree during a walk in the park, carving our initials as tears streamed down my cheeks. It had been a horrible March; I couldn't be more happy that it was over.

Roman nodded to himself, chewing invisible gum--

"Okay... Where?"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I never expected him to see this. Ever.

I leaned against the tree, watching as Roman traced our initials with a shimmer of fixation in his eyes. The green of the park was a dark contrast to the light green of his orbs, the hazel and blue nuances being the only points placing him perfectly in the scenery. Like this, it was as though I was looking at a painting-- the ones painted by depressed Russian artists before the fall of the Tsars. They always knew how to bring beauty into a world that was only cruel to them. 

It was specific, sure, but I had to occupy my mind with something as Roman remained quiet. The wait was nerve-wracking.

Ethereal hues of sunlight shone through the thickness of the trees in the full bloom of summer as I kicked at a nearby chestnut. About half an hour had passed since our argument in the car, and another half hour passed before I finally found the tree in a desolate part of the park. I chewed on my bottom lip, anxiously watching Roman's every reaction.

I expected him to be freaked out. To be disgusted, even. How creepy wasn't this?

However, Roman was painstakingly calm. He ran the pads of his fingers over every cut, every bumpy line-- "This is..."

"Yeah, I know," My arms were crossed over my chest, gaze now resting on the grass nearby. "I never thought you'd like me or that I'd betray Letha like that, so I wanted to... materialize my feelings, if that makes sense? Bottle it up somewhere. Pull a Voldemort." 

"A what?" 

"Like, horcruxes?" Confused, I got the courage to look at him again. "Roman, have you not seen Harry Potter?"

He shrugged-- "Isn't it, like, for kids?"

"... You used to be a kid too, do you remember that?" Oh, the hypocrisy; "You've been harassing me about not having watched The Godfather for ages, but you haven't even seen?-- Oh, fuck it." It was impossible not to laugh, and I gave into a low chuckle as I pressed my crossed arms tighter to my chest. "Anyway. This tree thing is super creepy, I know, so would you rather I showed you the message from Letha instead?"

Roman finally looked at me, a blank expression on his face. Something told me he didn't want to give away his true feelings regarding the matter. Still, he held out his hand, and I promptly gave him my phone.

Roman knew my password-- that was no issue. He didn't have to ask for it, now staring down at the message from Letha.

I pressed my back against the tree as much as I could, wanting to melt into it and disappear just like earlier in the car. Watching the way Roman's brows drew together in confusion, the flash of annoyance that streaked across his eyes--  it didn't help my anxiety that he didn't say anything, wordlessly handing me my phone back. 

I held my breath as I tucked it back into my pocket, waiting for him to say something. However, what he said caught me off-guard;

"The tree thing... It's not that creepy," Roman leaned against it, staring down at me with a nonchalance about him, almost as though he hadn't just read Letha's words of betrayal.

It made me uneasy, but I shrugged; something about the beauty of his eyes calmed me down as I gave in to a soft smile. "You don't have to protect my feelings, Rome, I'm very aware--"

"It's not," Stepping away from the tree, he neared me with careful steps. "I know we've talked about this before, but I'm just a little shocked you felt so... strongly about me. Even during a time when I was pulling your hair. It just doesn't make sense that you'd like me at all, even now." 

I sent him a defeated look, leaning my head against the wood behind me. "Why is that so shocking?" 

Roman now stood in front of me, and he reached out to place his hands on my waist. "I just don't think anyone ever has in this way," he said. "It's so sweet, it almost makes me nauseous."

I giggled-- "I make you nauseous?"

Roman's next words were said with such a stoic tone, I froze to my spot; "You make me sick,"

Dumbfounded, I let my lips part in shock. It was almost as though his green eyes were filled with pity. "What?--"

"Sick to my stomach," 

Suddenly, I couldn't remember the last time he had blinked. Uhm...? The way we were standing, the way I was pressed up against this tree, gave me the biggest deja vu of my lifetime. This was exactly the same situation as when we played seven minutes in heaven, the very thing that had unraveled everything. I was frozen in fear of his next words, holding my breath. 

"Knowing you have the compassion to feel this strongly about me, makes me sick," Roman breathed, his hands kneading my waist with strength that nearly made me wince in pain. "That you've fucked up your life to be with me, makes me sick. And that I'm going to have the worst time letting you go if I must, makes me sick." There was an intensity in him that I hadn't properly seen in him before now-- I wasn't sure whether to be scared or turned on. It only got worse when Roman leaned in, his hot breath against my lips making me shiver; "That I'm ready to go to war with Letha, with family, for you, makes me sick. Knowing I'm ready to rip her head off if she takes you from me... Makes. Me. Sick." 

A quiet shiver of air left my body, my shaking hands grabbing at his. "Rome, I--"

"I'll be better for you," Roman's green eyes drilled into mine with desperation, his grip around my waist loosening before he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. "Whatever Letha says about me, the truth as she called it, I need you to not believe it. I'm asking you to kill me, in a sense."

"What?--"

"I want you to make me so sick that I die in your arms," Roman let out a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against mine as his eyes closed shut. "I think it'd make me feel good. I don't want to be so bitter and angry all the time... and I feel good with you. Really good."

Oh.

Oh.

My heart swelled as I brought my hands up to cup his face, my thumbs stroking over his cheeks as we stood still. There were leaves rustling in the distance, and a sweltering breeze that passed us briefly, but all in all, it was just Roman and I in this deserted area of the park. I could easily agree that it felt good, that it felt right-- just my pretty boyfriend and me.

I got up on my tippytoes, pulling Roman in for a gentle kiss. It made my heart swell, made the tips of my fingers burn as I felt his cold breath against my cheek when he exhaled through his nose. 

It was just us, and I needed it to stay that way. We needed it to stay that way, to work as we needed to.

I couldn't let nostalgia kill this. Not for Letha, not for anything in the world. I wasn't sure what it was that she was dying to tell me, why she felt the need to tell me the truth about him as she claimed-- wasn't this his truest form?

Roman's hands pushed against the small of my back, drawing me in as close as humanly possible. The kiss deepened with every breath, with every pull of the other-- "Choose us," he pleaded, mouthing his words into my lips. "Me and you. Us."

His desperation nearly made me burst into flames, similarly to a phoenix; Roman would've gotten that reference if he had seen Harry Potter. It seemed I might actually have to watch The Godfather for him to do so. Still, I sighed softly into the kiss, my hands going into his hair to tug him closer. 

I made my decision then and there-- I wasn't going to answer Letha. I could figure out the truth about Roman on my own, thank you very much.

"Me and you," I breathed. "Us."

(AAAAHHH if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading!!<3333 here's PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 8 if you want to check them out!! THANK YOUUUU!)

(and credits to @august-diehl for the gif!!)

tagging those that seemed interested!!<333:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium

@mil88691 @tloughost @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

[trippinsorrows]

I know Roman will be strict with boys but what would make me cackle is if Lina or Leya got a boyfriend that’s just as big and as bad as him 😂😂😂 like imagine them going to prom and Roman has to look up to him/ or be at eye level because of his height and he’d get a pang in his chest because him and the guy have the same/similar muscle mass. Baby he’d be too stunned and jealous to speak 😂😭

wait, cause i'm screaming at this!!! 😂😂😂😂

but also, i'm wondering why the hell these boys so damn big in high school?!?! like, roman is a big ass man. emphasis on man. but, let both their dates be the same height as him, you're right, he would be fussing away to solana.

"what the fuck are they feeding these kids? they look fucking 25."

solana rolls her eyes, continuing to massage her husband's scalp as he lays in her lap, vehemently venting about his introduction to the girls dates.

their boyfriends, technically. but, she and the girls haven't quite worked out a way to break that news to her husband without his blood pressure shooting through the roof.

or the boys going missing.

"i developed early, too, roman. it happens." it happened to both their girls too, but she refuses to bring up those days. roman's overprotectiveness was times ten when the twins hit puberty. "and they're very nice."

"i don't give a fuck if they're nice or not. they're not good enough for my girls."

"roman, no one is good enough for them, leave it to you." solana leans over and kisses his forehead, advising, "they really like them, baby. please try to be nice."

"yeah, i'll be nice alright," he grumbles. solana rolls her eyes. he's about as mature as their younger kids sometimes. "i want to see their birth certificates." his eyes suddenly alight with an idea she knows she's not going to like. "i should go over there."

solana's eyes widen ever so slightly. yup. definitely not an idea she likes. "roman, you are not going to go over there."

"why not?" he sits up, looking at her like he doesn't know why that would such a bad idea. "anything can happen."

"because you remember the last time you showed up to their dance to check on them? you broke that poor boy's jaw!"

roman shrugs, indifferent. "he was too weak for my leya anyway."

solana sighs, heavily. she'd almost rather be entertaining their other four kids all at the same time than try to reason with her stubborn ass husband. "they'll be fine, roman. they have their security, and don't act like i don't know you don't have jimmy and jey sitting in the parking lot as backup."

roman looks away, neither confirming nor denying.

"and--"

the sound of something breaking pulls them from the conversation at hand followed by hushed, nervous, rushed conversation.

"what did you do?!"

"it wasn't me! it was kai!"

"no, it wasn't! it was koa!"

"no way!"

"i'm telling daddy!"

"snitch!"

"mommy! daddy!" aroha's soft voice is upped several octaves as she calls for her parents. "the twins are being mean to me!"

"nu uh!"

"uh huh!"

roman sighs. heavily. solana only smiles, seeing the frustration already growing. "i think we have more important things to worry about tonight than our teenagers."

roman scoffs, standing up and reaching his hand out to pull solana up from the sofa. "i wish you would even think to tell me you want another baby." she giggles, holding onto his arm as they head off to do damage control. "all these damn kids."

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Goooodddddd fat spoiled Bucky is my Roman Empire need more of him and masseuse Steve omg. Imagining him on his hands and knees for Steve lying on his big belly or Steve massaging his belly till he reaches his fat pad skdjdjsj I need more of them

Totally, utterly spoiled fat Bucky and masseuse Steve

You have me thinking of all different kinds of scenarios with them 🤤🤤

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink ahead, LOTS of fat-shaming, immobility/mobility issues, this is a BIG BUCKY, stuckage, button pops, etc.

There's one summer night, literally in the middle of the night, an hour, maybe two past midnight, when Bucky has the air conditioning fucking blasting in his room because it's hot outside but mostly because he's way too fucking hot underneath all his fat. He's about as insulated with blubber as a whale is for the cold ocean depths but he isn't in the ocean (unless the ocean of sweat he's dripping with counts), he's beached on land. And all that jiggling, thick fat leaves Bucky flicking a finger toward the help, wheezing through airy burps and hissing hiccups that they must place an "emergency call" to Steve. He needs more help than just his live-in servants who tirelessly have fetched him lidded platters of "midnight snacks" that are anything but snacks.

Bucky woke up craving more before midnight. He wasn't hungry, he just wanted more. And he's been stuffing himself for hours now. Hours to midnight and hours past midnight, chasing a craving that he just can't satisfy, his taste grown too greedy in his years of spoiling. He's been ruined.

Now, he's packed full of so much food that he's in pain. It hurts. He's so full it hurts. He wolfed down too much too fast after a hedonistic dinner that was (like his snacks not being snack-sized) not a dinner but an endless parade of dishes mirroring a grand feast in his grand dining room. A room designed with lavish parties in mind; parties and celebrations that Bucky has never thrown because he rarely has others not a part of his staff on his acreage, his kingdom and castle are devoted to him and him alone. He has enough hunger to fill the dining room with its lengthy table and, underneath anyone else's much more reasonable weight, sturdy chairs.

With enough of a feast fit for a royal court destroyed entirely by one greedy, fat king and another sprawling meal of its own piled on top of that feast, Bucky desperately, desperately needs Steve. He's tired - sleepy and ready to fall into a food coma unlike any he's had before. There is no way he can lift his flabby, bingo-wing arms to rub his angrily gurgling tummy himself. He can hardly see straight! His eyes are watery from the exquisite, aching strain of his overexpanded stomach. A few tears have fallen from his eyes, too, trailing slowly down his plump cheeks as the pressure inside his body becomes too much and something has to give - his tears are squeezed out. He's overflowing.

He keeps hiccuping and that makes everything hurt worse, his eyes unfocusing and blurring that much more. He's throbbing. He can feel the muscles, buried under layers and pounds of thick flesh, stretching and straining in an effort to keep his blimp-sized gut attached to him. He can feel every bite of food inside him, jostled with each painful hic! hic! hic! and he doesn't regret one mouthful. Bucky doesn't know - doesn't understand regret. His life has no consequences. He has it all and can always have more.

More.

That's what he's missing. More. He needs more. He needs Steve to help him struggle through the gas and bloat and gurgles and moans and worst of his stomach fighting to accommodate the pounds of food he shoveled into it. The closest he's ever come to regret is thinking about how he wishes he demanded that Steve live on-site like all the rest of his staff so he wouldn't have to wait in suspense, nearly bursting at the seams for him to come and rub him down.

And...

When Steve finally arrives, the first thing he does is laugh in the face of Bucky's excruciating gluttony. He laughs, his voice sleep-rough, at Bucky's sweaty, red, moon-round face and sagging rolls of flesh, beached in his cloud-like, California-king bed. The entire, expensive frame shudders and creaks each time Bucky's flabby body jiggles under another painful hiccup or vaguely relieving burp. An expulsion of gas he's just too food-drunk and snooty to care about. He has no manners, that much is obvious, just look at him. Then, look at Steve. They are opposites. Even in his pajamas, Steve is fit and put together. He looks sleepy but good in his muscle-strained sweatpants and sweatshirt, his golden hair a mess, his chiseled face extra handsome in the moonlight.

Once he's had the last laugh, Bucky's masseuse gets to work, rubbing and grabbing and squeezing and working his magic that makes all the tension bleed from Bucky's oversized, tense body. His taut gut relaxes as much as it can when it's packed full of food still digesting, his muscles turning to mush, submitting underneath Steve's stern touch.

Steve's words are stern, too, teasing him as he works, digging his hands in harder and harder until Bucky is whining and moaning with pain, he's so tender, he's just been stuffed to his breaking point but Steve doesn't care. Steve doesn't care because he does this to himself. He asks for this.

"You're such a brat, Mr. Barnes. Only you, princess, would think this-" Steve gestures vaguely to, uh, all of Bucky's fat gut "-is an emergency worth waking someone up in the middle of the night over. Couldn't go eight hours without stuffing your greedy face, could you? Where is your self-restraint? Oh yeah, you don't fucking have any, you spoiled brat." Steve smacks his gut several times in a row as if reprimanding him. All it does is make Bucky squirm weakly, his body jiggling thickly. He couldn't get away if he put all his pathetic strength into it. It hurts. It feels good. "This isn't an emergency, Mr. Barnes, this is a cry for help. Look at yourself! I have literally never seen anyone this fat. This isn't letting yourself go, this is pushing yourself. If you could get yourself together and push yourself to get healthy, just think what you could've done! Mommy and Daddy might've raised a little Olympian if you went the other direction, but no, you put your back into becoming a shapeless blob instead. Tsk. Tsk," Steve clicks his tongue, but the sound is drowned out by Bucky's needy whimpers. If what Steve's saying is so offensive why does it feel better than sex? "

"I can't believe you. An emergency," Steve scoffs, mocking him more, "if you keep going this way, you'll see a real emergency. You'll be calling the fire department to cut through the doorways of your precious custom-built mansion 'cause you're gotten stuck in one, wedged in place on the rare occasion you get your lazy, fat ass out of bed to do something yourself." Steve shakes his head, digging his nails in, making Bucky want to wail. All he does is belch loudly, the edges of the sound high and desperate. "But that real, actual emergency won't stop you either, will it, princess?" Steve grips a handful of his flesh, wobbling it to make Bucky squeak, "you won't stop because you don't understand the problem, do you? No. You have too much money for your own good, you throw money at the problem and the problem goes away, simple as that. You've gotten so fucking huge that you can't fit through your doors? Oh, well, you'll just reframe every one of the countless fucking doors in this stupidly big house. Who cares if reframing involves special-ordered wood and lacquer and the time and brainpower of some poor architect to figure out what dimensions will actually fit your fat ass? Who cares? You don't. You're too busy thinking with this gut."

Bucky's sagging, fat chest heaves. He feels as though he can hardly see Steve over his unending roundness of a stomach, but what he can see him will haunt him for the rest of the night... that smirk. Steve could cut him with that smirk, it's so sharp. Bucky feels it like a blade, his smile and dark eyes cutting into him. Jesus Christ. He wants exactly that. He wants more.

Hic!

Steve laughs again.

-

Bucky knows that Steve is in front of him, on his knees, but he can't actually see him anymore other than through the many reflections that surround them. They're in the wing of Bucky's abode where his tailor has set up his private business just for Bucky. It's a lucrative shop despite having only one customer. Bucky has lost track of just how much money he throws at his tailor by now, but he knows it's a lot. He outgrows clothes often. Sometimes, he forgets why he bothers with clothes. He doesn't leave the house hardly ever and he pays his staff handsomely enough, nevermind that they all sign NDAs. Besides, they probably wouldn't see much, judging by how Bucky's wide reflection stares back at him, covering and overflowing from every angle. His dick has been buried for a very, very long time. He could do that. He should do that.

However...

If he stops wearing clothes, then he loses the pleasure of moments like this, right now, barely propped upright on a reinforced stage in the middle of a room of mirrors, unable to see Steve himself, unless he uses one of the many mirrors, because Steve is sweating and grunting, on his knees, struggling to stuff Bucky's oozing fat body into clothes that he had custom fit to his ever-expanding frame just last week. And it looks like he's already outgrown them. A new record.

Bucky sighs.

Steve growls at him, pinching some roll of fat - one of the many, many, many - and, oh, would you look at that, even in the mirror, Bucky can't see where his hand is. Steve's big, calloused hand has disappeared under the excessive overflow of Bucky's sagging gut. His rolls are hiding his other rolls. Fuck, he's fat. "You could at least try to help," Steve roughly says, muffled, pressed up against his big, big body in quite the undignified position. "I know the concept is, ugh," he pants, out of breath beneath the weight, despite his fantastic stamina and athleticism, "unfamiliar to you, but a little bit of effort w-would be appreciated right now. Suck in, fatty."

Bucky tries. Nothing really happens, though. His muscles are pushed too far out and are far too atrophied from a lifetime of no work whatsoever. Bucky's been feasting since he woke up this morning, same as always, and he just finished his second lunch before his tailor rushed in to notify him that he just finished with his latest work, so... yeah, it's not his fault his gut won't budge.

Steve extracts his hand from Bucky's rolls to smack his gut harshly, staining his soft, lotioned, un-stretch-marked, un-cellulite-ridden skin red with a perfect handprint and Bucky's knees tremble. Oh, he's going to need to sit down soon. He can't hold up all this weight for much longer. He feels feverish. He may faint. He's so full.

He feels every inch of his divine fullness, Steve is trying very hard to massage and smooth and sculpt him into his clothes. He's tucking his fat back into his clothes, testing the limits of seams that have been reinforced intentionally and held together with extra-thick thread, struggling to breathe evenly as he heaves the sides of his button-up shirt together. Fitting his thighs and ass and hips into his slacks took an unprecedented about of time. Bucky doesn't keep track exactly, his life revolves around him, but he knows it was a long time. And he now knows, too, that no matter how much Steve squishes himself into his fat belly, turning his face to the side and still being nearly totally enveloped in soft blubber, he can't get his arms all the way around him.

Bucky's knees tremble harder. His face has gone very, very red with strands of hair around his face sticking to his skin. God, Steve might think he doesn't understand effort but he does, it's plenty of effort to just stand here and not fall face forward onto the floor, his body pulled by the weight of his bloated gut. Bucky sweats more.

With a victorious grunt, Steve slides one and then two buttons into their appropriate catch. They stay for all of half a second before Bucky breathes out and -

Pop!

Ping!

There they go, flying at high velocity across the room, colliding with the mirrors at the far side and making a sharp sound covered over by Steve's groan of defeat. Hastily, he gets up, standing toe to toe with Bucky but not - he can't get that close to him, their bodies are separated by Bucky's thick fat, rounding out from him from every angle but especially in front of him. His tummy is its own entity. It's that big. Bucky somehow always forgets just how big it is even though it's attached to him. Jesus. It feels like there are miles between Steve's disciplined, hard muscular body and Bucky's excessive, soft body.

Steve takes half a step away to grab the silk robe Bucky had been wearing before, hardly enough fabric to cover him, and throws it at him, "just fucking put the robe back on, fatty, I give up."

Bucky is slow to react, he doesn't catch it. The silk hits him lightly in the chest, dragging over his huge moobs and sliding down his round gut like water. It lands on the floor soundlessly. Bucky doesn't even twitch to move like he's going to grab it, he's not sure if it's physically possible for him to bend over anymore with his belly in the way, he just pouts at Steve, half-dressed and barely holding his own fat up.

"Jesus Christ," Steve grits out, bending neatly at the waist, snapping up, and ripping Bucky's clothes off of him before replacing it with the silk robe. "You are a helpless, fat baby," he tells him, breathing hot and angry and... something else... on the back of his neck.

Quickly and effortlessly light on his feet Steve flits around him, smacking his ass, making his whole body wobble arousingly, then spinning to his front to twitch the robe mostly closed over his front, tightening the belt of the robe too tight on purpose, so tight Bucky feels the food inside him slosh and churn, heavy and digesting into more, more, more fat. Bucky can barely groan, oof, before Steve's fingers grab his chin, not his double (or forming triple) chin that's just chub, but his actual divot-ed chin so he can speak right to him, telling him -

"You wouldn't survive without me, princess."

Bucky whimpers, his eyes tearing up with humiliation. He's right. And he loves it. He needs Steve. He needs him so badly. He needs Steve almost as much as he needs to gorge himself until it hurts. He likes it when it hurts, he likes it when Steve's mean to him, slapping him around and getting rough with all his plush, soft fat.

-

Hours have passed, dripping away in viscous ribbons of the thickest, sweetest clover honey that money can buy, tipped off the edge of a silver spoon onto thick, freshly cut bread to be eaten, consumed ravenously when it should be savored. And the day has dripped past in such a sweet, lazy way because Bucky has been fed by hand all this time, taken care of by his army of servants for these hours. The symphony of flavors fed to him swelling him up into a heavy, heavy ocean of fat. All that fat wobbling and jiggling in front of him means that his own body presses him into the over fluffed day-bed crowded with pillows and blankets and crumbs that he was helped into, waddling impressively slowly, after outgrowing his oversized settee, his body too large to fit the other piece of fine furniture. Soon, he may be large enough that he will only fit on the floor, spilling out in all directions. He is more voluptuous and pillowy than a pillow itself. His body could be a mattress, it's so thick and wide.

To go along with the luxury of being filled with treats and riches, Bucky is being hand-massaged. Always. Steve is here more than not. Each day, no, each hour, Bucky grows more and more dependent on his masseuse. He can't help it. All his fat needs tending to. He can't fathom doing it alone. Who would do it alone? Only a pleb. Bucky is rich-fat, not poor-fat.

Rich-fat.

Fatly rich.

God, he's engorged.

Between every bite of food, he's gasping and moaning, food is more important than breathing, though, so he doesn't stop to breathe. If anything, he inhales food, not air. He sucks it in almost too fast to taste it. Fuuuck. It's good. He's stretching. Expanding. He's gasping and moaning because food is pleasure, but also because Steve is hard at work, slaving and sweating over his blubbery belly.

In order to get close enough to his big, big tummy - needing to reach it over the valleys and hills of blankets and pillows and fat rolls that make up the daybed in Bucky's elegant glass sunroom - Steve is straddling his body. Yet, Steve is straddling just one of his two hugely fat thighs because Steve no matter how athletic and flexible he is, it is just not possible these days for Steve to spread his legs wide enough to span both of Bucky's thick, thick thighs. It's much more comfortable for Steve to split his legs over one of Bucky's resting on his thigh like a delicate bird resting on top of the lumbering, clumsy, out of control beast that is Bucky. Steve is an oxpecker picking bugs off of a hippo.

Bucky's a hippo.

He's so thick and fat and he keeps grooooaning. There's so much inside him. He feels the food crammed into his stomach, he feels the fat crushing his overfull stomach, all that weight, he feels his skin stretched to contain it, he feels everything. He's so fat and his body weighs so much itself, that Bucky doesn't care about Steve straddling his thigh. Anything to make his belly feel better.

It huuuurts.

He won't stop eating. He can't. He can't fucking do it, it's impossible, he swears, nothing has ever been harder than not stuffing his fucking face until he's making sounds that illustrate just how much he feels like he might burst. He. is. voracious. Unfathomably greedy, always filling himself.

His belly aches and his jaw throbs, too, but it doesn't matter. The pain adds to the excessive pleasure that he's piling up. More. Being stuffed and massaged at the same time is the most heavenly of pleasures - Bucky would know, he's done so much, felt so much, spoiled as he is, and this is it. This is the best. It's good for him and he prides himself in being so gluttonous and pleased that it spreads to everyone else. You could not come within the walls of his mansion and not feel some of the pleasure radiating out of Bucky. Bucky is too spoiled to care if others feel good or not, he's far beyond that, but he wallows in the showmanship of it all. Yes, that's him, yes, that's his life, yes, he's so enveloped in his ecstasy that everyone else is aware of it. They have to be. He's that excessively excessive.

It's heaven as Steve kneads his thick fat, literally crawling all over him, straddling his thigh and kneeling up to reach out and try to span all of his fat (his wingspan isn't broad enough to do it) sinking his hands into his inches thick blubber that makes Bucky desperately, feverishly hot at all times. He rubs and squeezes, kneads and gropes, pinches and wobbles. The way Bucky's fat shifts like waves when he grasps him, taking overflowing handfuls, makes Bucky feel dizzy. He is an ocean of fat, he rocks with waves of fat, his knees weak, trying to walk on the deck of a ship being thrown about by the currents. Except, he's not walking. He's just lying back and he's rocking and jiggling. He can't feel anything but his own fat body. He can't see anything but his own fat. He can't taste anything but his ruinment, all those calories piled up, rich on his tongue. He knows he is a spectacle, he is unbelievable, Steve is lucky to get to touch him, oiling him up and playing with his taut fat, working it until it's soft and malleable.

Bucky moans so loud it vibrates his entire massive chest.

Steve, for all his effort, grunting and making his plush fat move, bites back a smile, pinching a thick, thick chunk of flesh somewhere between his massive tummy and round moobs, sounding dangerously affectionate as he teases, "you fat fuck."

-

Steve is part of Bucky's staff, Bucky employs him, Bucky is thus allowed, encouraged even, to bring up things to Steve that are bothering him about his work and how he goes about it. That's how performance reviews work, right? Bucky has no real idea about how those work in the real world but he's pretty sure those are a thing. He wouldn't exactly know, though, he's never had to work and whenever he has real problems with the help, he simply fires them and hires someone else. No skin off his back. Worry isn't good for his skin. He doesn't need wrinkles. Just rolls. But. Bucky has completely lost his mind and he likes Steve and all his pushy-shovey-roughness with him. So, he attempts to put in the effort to review him.

Does it matter if the review is nothing but a whiney complaint that sounds like it has nothing to do with Steve and everything to do with Bucky? Bucky thinks so. Again, though, he doesn't know better.

So, what he does is just complain, pouting and huffing, crossing his fat arms over his fat chest to make his pecs look girlish and cleavage-like, as he whines about his hips. They've been feeling all throbby and stretched out lately. He needs more massaging attention to them and if he gets stretch marks from the lack of lotion and rubbing to smooth them out and keep his skin perfect then... then... then! He doesn't actually know what he'll do to Steve but he'll figure something out!

"And what's that, princess?" Steve snarks back, "what are you gonna do, honey? You can't move on your own last time I checked and I know for a fact you haven't lost weight since then so... I think I'll be alright."

Steve does end up putting his attention to his fat, door-spanning hips, though, obliging his sulky, spoiled demands. Eventually. He makes Bucky whine for it for a while is all. He has to do some work.

Although, when he gives in, it turns out, that it doesn't really work the usual way they go about things with Bucky on his front, sweating and panting underneath his barrel gut, while Steve towers over him and teases him as he dissolves all that tension he holds in a big, round knot right at his middle. Steve, as strong as he is, gets tired too fast to rub his hip like that, lifting his flabby love handles up to get the front, side, and back of them is strenuous manual labor. After another short break, Steve and his muscles pushed tightly up against Bucky and his plushness, Steve vaults off of Bucky with suspicious ease for someone apparently so tuckered out by working around his body -

"Turn over for me, Mr. Barnes," he says, making it a demand not to be argued with, no matter how much of a spoiled brat Bucky is.

Bucky attempts to do as he's told with a lot, lot of effort. He could be melting with how much sweat is pouring out of him, straining himself to roll over on all fours, jostling and wobbling, his fat shifting as he groans and grunts and pathetically complains, "ow!" or"ohh!" or huffs, huffs, and pants, or "I'm too heavy!" or finally, his pink chubby cheeks wobbling, near tears, as he begs or help, "I can't do it, Steeeve, Steve, please, help me. I can't. I can't."

Steve steps in to help with a single, hard, well-placed shove, rolling him onto all fours. Bucky goes totally ungracefully. He's like a walrus, blubbery, ungainly, and flopping on land.

Steve can get at the rolls around his sides, his hips, and his back rolls easily this way. Gravity is helping him, shaping Bucky's blimp-fat, blobby body into something easier to work with.

However, when Steve tries to transition back into massaging Bucky's tummy (because the overgrown, over-spoiled, overfed boy is stuffing cookies into his mouth as Steve works, getting crumbs all over his bed and not caring because he knows it will be the help's problem to deal with), Steve finds out that he can't fucking do it. He can't reach as much of Bucky's tummy as he needs to this way because he's so fat that the front of it touches the creaking, dented surface of the mattress beneath his massive body.

His gut literally reaches the floor, touching and spilling out.

Jesus Christ.

He's overflowing and sweating like a true pig, just from holding himself up. It won't be long before he's more than trembling under his own weight and is vibrating, then collapsing face-first into the bed. When Steve's prediction comes from, he can't keep the smugness out of his voice, pinching and slapping him gleefully, telling him, "get back up, fatty." Already knowing what's going to happen next. He's so predictable.

Bucky bellows in arousal and can't.

He can't move.

He's too hungry and too exhausted.

And, God, they both love to see him like this.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Language Barriers

same anon as like 5 minutes ago, I remembered the fluffy prompt! Could you write a Sanders Sides DLAMPR fic (before they get together) where all of the Sides have different love languages? And they’re all trying to flirt in their own way, but the others keep misinterpreting it? A lot of TSS fic features the Sides having different love languages (and I’d like to think they do, in canon), but I’ve yet to see a fic that specifically focuses on that fact and describes the differences between love languages. Feel free to ignore, and remember to take care of yourself! – anon

hey I love love love love LOVE your writing! If you’re open to prompts rn, I’ve just reread your story "Idiots, Idiots, Everywhere" and it’s awesome, thanks very much, BUT. Are you willing to write a Sanders Sides fic where it focuses more specifically on all the Sides having different love languages? Bonus points if it’s DLAMPR (but platonic PR, this is an incest-free household) and all the Sides are like “…but he’s like this with everyone”. No pressure at ALL, but it’d be cool to see how you approach that. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 3431

Or, five times the Sides misunderstood each other's love languages, and one time Thomas got fed up with it and decided to just...explain it to them with the efficiency they have when they're trying to explain something to him. Which is to say: it takes them a second to get it. The Imagination helps.

Physical Touch

If you were to ask anyone, they would tell you that Patton loves giving people hugs.

It’s the bane of some of their existences, they’d try to claim, and the others might just shrug and say that’s Patton for you. He knows his kiddos love it, at least a little bit. But he won’t lie, he does love a good hug. There’s just something so magical about how, out of all the shapes humans could have possibly been, they’re just perfectly designed to hold one another. Isn’t that just perfect?

Logan would probably say something about evolution and adaptation to the needs of their environment, or something, but he’s not gonna rain on Patton’s parade. Humans are hug-shaped, so they’re gonna hug. Besides, he’s not complaining when he’s working downstairs in the winter and he’s gotten too absorbed in his work and then a Patton-shaped heating pad just comes along and hugs him.

Patton loves hugging all of the Sides. Logan because he’s always so surprised by it, in a good way! He gets this soft little look that is almost on the edge of a smile, like he wasn’t expecting it but it’s the best possible outcome he never could have predicted. Or when he’s trying to comfort Patton and he hugs with undeniable certainty.

Virgil is also fun to hug, because he’s such a pouty-face about it. He snuggles up as much as any of them but he has to put on his mopey show first, just in case anyone’s watching. Virgil also gives the mopey hugs too, but then he makes himself just a bit bigger so he can wrap all the way around Patton. Which is the best.

Speaking of wrapping all the way around, Janus has six arms and he uses every single one of them. They get into competitions sometimes—not serious! It’s all for fun!—about who can surprise-hug each other the worst. Or best. Janus is currently winning from the time he managed to make himself look like the chair in the living room with a blanket over it; Patton sat down and boo!

Remus isn’t allowed to do surprise hugs, not after he accidentally tackled Patton into his Kraken’s pond and they had to spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get out of the pond. But Remus’s hugs are the kind that squish his soul right back into his body and ugh, there’s nothing better than that after a long day. Besides, it’s not like expecting Remus’s hugs takes anything away, he’s still going to squeeze him so hard he might not be able to breathe for a few seconds, but that’s Remus!

And then with Roman—Roman hugs the way every single knight from a fairytale should hug. He just makes you feel safe and precious and like nothing in the world could hurt you. It’s why Patton always sits next to Roman during scary movie nights, after all, even if he gets teased about it a little. Roman doesn’t mind.

So yes, Patton does love hugging all of them. But it doesn’t have to be hugging! It can be holding hands, or just leaning against each other, just as long as he can feel them and tell himself yes, they’re okay, they’re right here, I love them.

Because he does. He loves them terribly. Even if they think he’s just a big fan of hugs.

***

2. Quality Time

Virgil has the reputation of being the cat of the Mindscape for good reason. Not because he hisses at things that don’t cooperate—the other Sides are not excluded from this—and not because he spits up hairballs—it was one time, Remus, and it was entirely your fault—but because he has a habit of just appearing in the same room and hanging out for a while.

…alright, it’s not a habit, he does it on purpose.

Companionable silence really is the best way to go about things. You’re both close enough to talk if you want to, but each of them is allowed to do their own thing and hey, there’s another person doing their own thing too. Which is why it’s his favorite way of hanging out with Logan, especially when he needs to make sure that something gets done. He’s always down to affectionately bully Logan into whatever he asks him to make sure he does.

He does that with Remus too, but it’s not exactly the same: Remus needs someone to make sure he doesn’t actually destroy anything, and he’s more than happy to oblige. Especially since he likes to get a bit of a heads-up before a rampaging beast goes barreling through the kitchen at some ungodly hour of the morning.

If he’s never beating the cat allegations, Janus sure as hell isn’t helping. There’s a big window in the Dark Sides’ half of the Mindscape that is perfect for lying in for, oh, a few hours on end. Remus has many—too many, if you ask Virgil—pictures of the two of them just basking in the sun, dozing like they haven’t got a care in the world.

Virgil’s actual favorite place to sleep is with his head in Patton’s lap. Especially after he’s just finished baking, when he’s all warm from the oven and he smells like sugar and spice…Virgil will sit on the counter or the floor and listen to Patton talk about whatever he wants and then while the oven bakes, he’ll fall asleep right in Patton’s lap. He even gets first dibs on whatever just got made.

Roman makes a game of it. He’s the Prince, every good Prince needs a rogue to work with. They trek all over the Imagination, having adventures, defeating monsters, it’s the perfect mix of Roman’s quests and Virgil’s need to be a creepy little shit in every dark corner he can find. Being with Roman even makes boring council meetings fun, because he gets to terrify the idiots that they’re just gonna fight later anyway and he gets to spend time with Roman.

He doesn’t care what he’s doing, not really, just as long as he can spend time with them. He just…wishes they would understand that sometimes.

***

3. Words of Affirmation

Logan is no stranger to impostor syndrome, but that doesn’t mean he has to allow it to plague those he cares for. Understanding something to be true on an intellectual level and feeling the validation that comes from hearing someone else voice it are two very different things. The other Sides are each remarkable in their own right. They deserve to hear it.

Patton is kind. He does not say that lightly: kind people who choose to be kind because they know how difficult it is are not individuals to be trifled with. Patton makes the conscious choice to try and be better every single day. He is earnest and sincere, sometimes painfully so, but he does not allow himself to be dissuaded by obstacles. How could Logan not want to express his admiration?

And Roman…oh, Roman is a wonder. There is so much that goes into his work that often goes unnoticed, or underappreciated, and it is a crime that Logan too often finds himself on the wrong side of that line. Roman is clever and funny and has a work ethic that, truly, rivals Logan’s own. For every slight he makes, however unintentional, he tries his best to make up for it by telling Roman in no uncertain terms how honored Logan is to be part of his creative process.

Remus is an entirely different story, no pun intended. Remus is unabashedly and unapologetically himself, and as such is a marvel to behold. He cares not for the sanitization or reduction of anything in his work, and so Logan does his best to follow suit. Remus is who he is, and it is beautiful.

He tells Janus he’s beautiful too. And not once is he lying. The first time he did it, Janus laughed in his face, at least until he realized Logan was telling the truth. He then didn’t see Janus for an entire week. It ended when a little snake plushie appeared outside of his door in the middle of the night with a tiny note that just said thank you. He tells Janus he’s beautiful every chance he gets now.

Virgil is his little alley cat. Perfectly fine to approach on his terms, but will let him know with no uncertainties when he’s getting a little too close. It doesn’t help that Virgil is quite fun to tease, even if all he’s doing is giving him compliments—true compliments, mind you—and watching in amusement as Virgil curls up into a ball with his hood pulled down over his ears as if that could hide how red they are. He’s not cruel about it, of course; he stops the moment Virgil appears genuinely uncomfortable and there are certain topics he doesn’t go near. But Virgil can’t always hide his little grin and so on it goes.

He’s quite happy to shower them with his words, he just…doesn’t know if they’d believe him if he said I love you.

***

4. Acts of Service

Words are difficult. There is so much ambiguity to be found in even the most basic of sentences, and when it comes to matters like this, Janus prefers to take as few chances as possible. Whoever coined the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words,’ Janus definitely owes a drink for how spot-on it is.

Whenever Patton needs a hand in the kitchen, he’s always the first to volunteer. He can do up to three things in the time it would take another Side to do just one, after all, and he’s had enough experience cooking for the troublemakers (Virgil and Remus) to know how to get around most of their pranks. And how to get them back.

Logan, bless him, has a tendency to overwork himself at the best of times. And in doing so, he gets these terrible knots and cramps in his neck and shoulders from hunching over his desk for hours on end. It might not be the most polite of things to practically blackmail his way into giving Logan a massage, but the poor dear always falls right to sleep so he mustn’t mind too much.

Remus and his delightful menagerie of creatures often need more than their fair share of attention. He had to pester Remus into getting him a raincoat and muck boots that could withstand the acidic slime, but weekend mornings found them strolling cheerfully through pens and cages and paddocks, tending to the bizarre flock. Anything to make the chore more of a fun activity and less of, well, a chore, when Remus really doesn’t suit stressed-out frowns as well as manic grins.

Virgil has a terrible habit of not asking for reassurance when he needs it. Janus regrets the part he played in making it that way. So, no matter how small and stupid Virgil may think it is, whenever he asks for help, Janus gives it. A tug on his cloak or a soft please will have him do anything from turn the light in the hallway on to checking the poor thing over for wounds after a brutal nightmare. It took long enough for Janus to re-earn that trust, he’s not going to lose it if he can damn well help it.

Out of everyone in the Mindscape, only Roman truly appreciates his love of theater. Sure, the others are game to help out here and there, but when it comes to the art of make-believe, Roman is the proud owner of Janus’s ‘yes-and’ partnership. The two of them make all sorts of stories together, from villains and heroes to morally grey adventurers, to simple fairytales and old plays. Roman needs someone else to help him play the roles and Janus is more than happy to play with him.

Perhaps one day, he might be able to reveal that everything he does for them, he does because it’s them, but for now, he’ll happily play the role they expect of him.

***

5. Gifts

Roman and Remus do not, in fact, fight over who gets to give the most presents to the other Sides.

Instead, they fight over whose idea they work on first.

For Logan, Remus’s self-writing pen narrowly won out over Roman’s proposal for a never-ending notebook, if only because said pen squirted ink into Roman’s mouth before he could finish his argument. They ended up giving both to Logan at the same time, but the pen was decidedly on top and did its own little celebratory wriggle when Logan used it for the first time.

Remus nearly challenged Roman to a formal duel when it came to designing a heat lamp for Janus that wouldn’t run the same risk of burning out the electricity in their section of the Mindscape. They managed to agree on everything up to the design on the lampshade. Roman said it should be a yellow snake, curled up and sleeping, and Remus wanted it to be a big leaf that Janus could lay under like he was actually outside. The compromise was eventually reached over many hours of almost bloodshed and now the sleeping snake under a leaf is a staple in the corner of Janus’s room.

Roman cleverly proposed Virgil’s weighted blanket while Remus was being crushed under said blanket, leaving not a lot of wiggle room until he had to agree. Of course, he promptly fell asleep and cuddled Roman into a pile of goo, so technically they made both the blanket and the plushie at around the same time. Virgil still brings the little skeleton to movie nights.

Patton gets their presents one after the other, because you need one to understand the other’s context. A rebreather designed to slip on over the person’s face just like any other face mask, to filter out particulates and allergens. Something that could be worn for up to two consecutive hours before it needed to be recharged.

The other present was a box full of kittens.

”Ro?”

“Yeah?”

Remus pushes his goggles to the top of his head and looks over the desk. “Do you think they’ll ever get it?”

Roman sighs, closing his notebook and leaning back to stretch. “I don’t know, Re. I love them, really, they just…”

”Don’t realize.”

“Yeah. It’s okay, though. We’ll get there eventually.”

“Of course we will. Hand me that wrench, would you?”

“The one that’s covered in guts, or the one that’s made out of foam?”

“The foam one. I need to whack this thing but I don’t wanna hit it too hard.”

“I’m not gonna ask any more questions.”

***

+1: I Love You

”Hey!” Patton rises up first, clapping his hands. “Oh. I’m the only one here.”

“Only by a moment,” Logan says as he joins him. “Is Thomas here?”

“No, I just got summoned by—well, I thought it was Thomas but he’s not here.”

“Whoa, hey!” Virgil appears on the staircase. “What’s going on? I was in the middle of watching someone.”

“Don’t you mean ‘something?’” Remus appears, covered in slime and cackling. “Ah. I see.”

“I’ve got it,” Roman says, rising up and spraying his brother with something that somehow manages to dissolve all the goo without staining or spraying anything else. “There. Now maybe you’ll think twice about surprising Uma when she’s feeding?”

“Oh, I’m gonna do this so many more times!”

”I felt the exasperation from my room,” Janus sighs, appearing, “what’s Remus done now?”

“Why did you assume it was Remus?” Janus just looks at Logan. “Fair enough.”

”Now that we’re all here, what is this about?” He looks around, frowning. “Where’s Thomas?”

“That’s weird, is he not the one who called for a meeting?”

“What’s that?” Virgil reaches out and picks up a piece of paper from the coffee table. “‘Each one of you needs a card, find the matches.’ What cards?”

“Here.” Logan picks up something that fell when Virgil picked up the paper. “There are only five of them, though, and six of us.”

“What do they say?”

“Let me see…one says ‘Physical Touch,’ one says ‘Acts of Service,’ one says…oh, I see.”

“I don’t,” Patton says, “can you share with the class?”

“Wait, wait, I think I know what this is, is one of them ‘Quality Company’ or something?”

“‘Quality Time,’ yes.”

Roman nods. “It’s the Five Love Languages.”

“Thomas doesn’t even speak Spanish!”

“No, no, Padre, not literal languages, it’s…it’s the ways you express your affection for someone. How you tell them you love them. There’s five: physical touch, acts of service, quality time…”

“‘Words of Affirmation,’” Logan continues, reading off the other cards, “and ‘Gifts.’”

Virgil hunches his shoulders. “So what, are we supposed to pick one?”

“I believe the intention of the exercise is to…select which one is our love language.”

Janus huffs. “Why? What does Thomas have to gain from doing something like this? And where is he?”

“Maybe he’s not the one who summoned us.”

“Well then who did?”

“Maybe if we do the thing we can find out.”

Janus sighs, peering over Logan’s shoulder and squinting. “I guess this one’s mine, then.”

“‘Acts of Service?’ Very well. I suppose I’ll take ‘Words of Affirmation.’”

“Can I have the touch one?”

“Certainly.”

“Twins get ‘Gifts,’ obviously,” Virgil mutters, “which means I get the…time one, or whatever.”

Logan hands out the last two cards and they stand there for a moment, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing does.

Patton looks back down at his card. “Wait, did you say these are how we tell people we love them?”

“That is a simple definition of this, why?”

“Because you guys do these with everyone!”

There’s a pause. Logan adjusts his glasses. “Well, I can’t speak for everyone, but…yes, I do indeed give you all words of affirmation, because, well…”

“Aww,” Virgil says, “do you love us, Logan?”

Logan coughs, blushes, and adjusts his tie. “I believe that is a logical conclusion, yes.”

“Aww!” Patton squeals. “I love you guys too!”

”So whoever set this up knew that we were all trying to tell each other that—“ Roman starts.

“—and needed to hammer it into our heads what was happening,” Remus finishes.

“Well,” Janus sniffs, even as a smile threatens the corners of his mouth, “how dramatic.”

Virgil tugs on the strings of his hoodie. “Yeah. How dramatic.”

There’s another pause.

Roman coughs. “Uh, this seems like a good a time as any, um…Remus and I put together a festival thing in the Imagination for everyone, if you want to…if you want to come and see it.”

“It has everyone’s favorite state fair stuff,” Remus sands, “and there’s supposed to be a northern-lights kind of thing after it gets dark.”

“Can we cuddle?”

“Of course.”

“Will there be food?”

“Your favorite, shadow-ling.”

“You two are so thoughtful,” Logan says softly, “I would love to come.”

“I can get the good blankets from the closet,” Janus offers, and everyone grins, “should we meet there in ten?”

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

The Imagination is just happy they finally sorted it out. Now, to give the six of them a group date they’ll never forget…

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[lucysarah-c]

Hi, how are you? I hope everything is going well for you :) I really enjoy your writings, and after reading your thoughts on sexism and homosexuality in Aot I was wondering if you have any thoughts about life inside the walls? Like about their culture, politics, every day life etc. No pressure tho, it's supposed to be fun for you too lol and it's just a silly little request. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a lovely day ! :)

Hi! 😊 I’m doing great, thanks for asking! How are you? Oh, that’s a lovely question! As someone who loves writing about life inside the Walls—especially in my main fic, Holy Ground—this question is right up my alley.

I think most celebrations inside the Walls would be related to the monarchy, the Church of the Walls, and local events. For example, this might sound a bit silly, but in Argentina, there are small agricultural towns that have celebrations like “The Potato Festival,” “The Cow Festival,” or “The Wheat Festival,” where they have fairs with games for kids, presentations, and competitions for local farmers. I believe similar events could happen inside the Walls.

Barley was particularly important back in the day because it’s hardier than wheat in tough weather, and you can make beer as well as bread with it. I wrote a story where they hold a barley festival twice a year after the main harvest to celebrate and hope for a good season. This helps boost local trade and consumption, especially during the long winter, which would create many struggles. I imagine Wall Rose, which isn’t as cosmopolitan as Wall Sheena, would have such festivals. Each region likely has its own “main” source of income and celebrates that. You could explore that idea a lot in a fic.

I also think there would be religious celebrations. Most of the characters we meet in Attack on Titan are more on the “radical” side of beliefs, but I bet the common folk were deeply religious. After the fall of Wall Maria, it’s mentioned that the church regained significant influence. Historically, natural disasters like earthquakes or pandemics were often seen as signs of divine anger, and I think many people inside the Walls would interpret things similarly.

Isayama didn’t fully explain how the religion of the Walls works, so I don’t have deep thoughts on it, but I’m sure they’d have celebrations and traditions around it, just like we do. Interestingly, many religious holidays worldwide coincide with similar times of the year because they’re often rebranded versions of older celebrations, like those of the Romans. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if the people inside the Walls celebrated something like the birth of Goddess Sheena around the time of the winter solstice, much like the Romans and later Christians did. Just to clarify, this isn’t meant to discredit any religion—I’m just providing historical examples!

Monarchy plays an important role in many societies even today, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they celebrated the birth or coronation of the royal family. Maybe there are portraits of the king displayed around the Walls—in schools, public buildings, etc.

I think, though I could be wrong, that Isayama mentioned somewhere that Eren, Mikasa, and Armin attended a “private” school and received better education than most kids. I remember wondering how Eren or Armin could afford private school when they weren’t particularly wealthy. But if there’s private schooling, there must be public schooling too! I imagine there’s a basic public education system, though it probably doesn’t last as long as ours—maybe something between kids of 6 and 12 years, where kids of different ages are mixed and taught reading, writing, and basic math. If they wanted to continue their studies, I bet there were institutions similar to colleges. I can’t see education being mandatory though—can you imagine MPs knocking on your door because your kid isn’t in school? Lmao, me neither! There were probably girls-only, boys-only, and boarding schools for wealthier kids.

Aside from the Scouts, I can clearly see the other two military divisions having multiple headquarters since they have more soldiers. They probably have food fairs on specific days of the week to sell cheaper groceries, and maybe even traveling fairs or circuses.

In Wall Sheena, which is wealthier, I can imagine art exhibitions, book fairs, and theaters hosting opera performances or orchestras. Universities are probably only within Wall Sheena too.

I also believe that depending on the region, people have different local foods and accents. I bet people from the north don’t sound the same as those from the south. Sasha apparently had an accent she tried to hide. They might also prioritize worship of one Wall over another, depending on where they live—for example, Wall Rose’s celebration might be bigger in Wall Rose.

As for clothing, we shouldn’t forget that before the industrial revolution, clothes were expensive, and dyeing them was even more costly. My great-grandfather used to tell my mom that he would take his shoes off to walk to work barefoot and only put them back on when he arrived to preserve them. I think inside the Walls, colorful clothes would have been a luxury, and most people only had one or two good outfits. Society was far more divided economically, with those who were slightly well-off doing much better than commoners.

For example, I have one MC who’s very rich, and she’s always wearing tartan or detailed patterns because different colors and threads were expensive. The same goes for lace—my great-grandmother used to knit bridal veils, socks, and gloves and made a lot of money because it was so costly to produce.

Isayama once mentioned that hygiene inside the Walls isn’t the same as our standards today. He implied that most people don’t shower often and re-wear their clothes. He even said that Levi falls asleep in his chair without changing his uniform. So while Levi is more invested in hygiene than others, even he wouldn’t meet our modern cleanliness standards, haha.

OMG, this turned out SO long! I’m sorry! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did because I ADORED answering this ask! Thank you so, so much! <3

[marchlione]

i think the reason i find jason so interesting is because the lore surrounding him is so interesting but he comes across so straightlaced which suggests to me that he does this on purpose. he forces himself into this persona of perfection and "conceal don't feel" and it fascinates me. like there's the whole thing where there are expectations for jason, as the son of jupiter and juno's champion, add to that the fact that it is implied that the romans have far less contact with the gods and especially major gods than even the greeks, and that up until very recently, jason was the only child of the big three *chef's kiss* then when you think about the emphasis on hierarchy and obedience in the roman camp and jupiter being more associated with aspects of governance than zeus, and imagine feral 'i was raised by wolves' toddler!jason being molded to fit in and groomed to lead. and consider the history of the children of jupiter, and jupiter's own history with patricide, and his father's history with patricide, and how jason is already under scrutiny for the circumstances he was born under, an oath sworn on the Styx being broken by the god of oaths who was the only one to break it on the roman side, so jason must be under a lot of pressure. he can't mess up, he doesn't get that luxury. not only does he have to be perfect, he also has to be obedient and subservient to the gods, but also a great leader to his people, and also be as inoffensive and unobtrusive as possible, but also mediocrity is not an option and he has to stand out and be tuly great but also not too great and become a threat to the gods. he is so fascinating

[kestreleve]

ask game: tagged by @hauntanelle 🤍

do you make your bed: yes, but around noon every day when I take my lunch break (I work from home). I leave it messy in the morning because I'm lazy

what’s your favorite number: 3 (I like to imagine three things in a row, perfectly centered, and enjoy the symmetry. I am somewhat obsessed with symmetry)

current job: I work as an administrator/manager in academia

if you could go back to school, would you: no, I've tried twice now and dropped out both times lol. I can't do graduate school and full-time work at the same time. I could probably handle undergrad but I have no desire to go back at this point.

can you parallel park: only if it's not an incredibly tight space

a job you had that would surprise people: hmmm probably when I taught Chinese kids English online? that job required me to be incredibly animated and socially "on"/masking 24-7. draining, but rewarding. I really enjoyed it, the kids were so sweet, but felt bad that the kids were often worked really hard and had super high expectations placed upon them by their parents :/ it was a really stimmy job since the company's teaching methods promote constant TPR (total physical response), moving your face and hands a lot to help kids understand language

do you think aliens are real: yes, but I think whatever life exists outside of our planet is probably more alien than we can even conceptualize

can you drive a manual car: no

guilty pleasure: coffee, chocolate, cigarettes (rarely). the three c's

tattoos: 1) roman numerals of my wedding anniversary on my chest, matching with my husband who has them on his neck, done during our honeymoon in Daytona, 2) an abstract kestrel head that my husband designed for me on my upper arm, 3) "god loves you, but not enough to save you" on my thigh. I plan on getting wings on my back, reminiscent of kestrel wings, in the next couple years

favorite color: mossy green, followed by autumnal orange

favorite music genre: folk hands down, but I enjoy almost everything... I commonly listen to alt rock, grunge, indie pop, ambient, and general singer-songwriter stuff. folk and grunge are most inspirational to me when writing my own music

do you like puzzles: no. life is an exhausting puzzle enough on its own

phobias: sharp objects (I imagine them stabbing or slashing me whether I want to or not and it's extremely visceral), cockroaches (from adverse experiences living with them in shitty places), mold (again, from living with it and getting sick). I am fortunate to live in much better circumstances now

favorite childhood sport: I didn't have any because I'm terrible at every single sport, was consistently picked last in every "pick your team" game. I have my autism to thank for that

do you talk to yourself: when I'm alone, yes. I developed that habit when living alone and it never went away. I don't have an internal monologue so speaking out loud helps me get my thoughts together

favorite movies: A Ghost Story, Only Lovers Left Alive, The Platform, Snowpiercer, many others. I like horror movies and thrillers most. I always include The Platform in my list of favorite movies because I think its message is incredibly important and I want everyone to watch it

coffee or tea: coffee, but I enjoy both

first thing you wanted to be when you grew up: a traditional artist

if y'all feel like doing this (no pressure whatsoever lol): @holohedral @bytheeborder @saintazazel @inniave @halo--hall @critterfarm

[caswensworld]

I know I already casted Roman Banks as one of my ocs but I did some recasting. Now he’s the son of Queen Elsa, who is a single mother and we love that for her!

Prince El, the son of Queen Elsa of Arendelle, is a 17-year-old rebellious teenage boy with a heart of gold. I wanted one AK to stand out dim the others and Elsa’s child seemed perfect.

El's personality is a mix of fun-loving, mischievous, and adventurous. He uses his winter magic to amuse himself others around him, often throwing snowballs and cracking jokes. Despite his lighthearted demeanor, El has a gentle heart and is generous, always willing to help those in need. However, he doesn't like to take things too seriously and prefers to keep things light and fun. El's mischievous use of his powers gets him in and out of a lot of trouble, but the important thing is he gets himself out of it.

Growing up as the son of Queen Elsa, El has always felt like an outsider in the kingdom of Arendelle. He was constantly under the scrutiny of the people and the expectations of the throne. He longs for a life of his own, away from the constraints of royalty and the pressure to one day take the throne. He's tired of being told how to live his life. This desire for independence has led him to the mysterious Isle of the Lost, a place once home to all the villains of folklore.

Despite his rebellious nature, El is passionate and courageous, always standing up for what he believes in. He is fiercely loyal to his family, especially his mother, Queen Elsa. However, their relationship is strained due to their differing views on life and the responsibilities of royalty. Despite his mother ruling with a warm heart, El and Elsa could never quite see eye to eye. El doesn't trust others easily, as he has few friends and prefers to keep to himself.

Standing tall, El has platinum blonde. His brown eyes, always sparkling with a hint of crystal blue, reflect his playful and mischievous nature. El's style is a mix of edgy and trendy, reflecting his rebellious nature. Instead of princely attire, he often wears cardigans, jackets, ripped jeans, and combat boots, everything he wears is coated with snowflakes, giving him a rugged and cool appearance. His unique style has made him stand out among the people of Arendelle, with some admiring him and others viewing him with suspicion.

In summary, Prince El is a kind-hearted, rebellious teenage boy with a unique sense of style and a passion for adventure. He uses his winter magic to bring joy to others while struggling to find his own independence and free himself from the expectations of royalty. Despite his mischievous nature, El is a loyal and courageous prince who is always there for his family.

Fun facts about El and Arendelle

-El is an only child

-Arendelle is cut off from Auradon as is Wonderland. I imagine like the Queen of Hearts, Elsa also fought against Beasts rule

-Elsa and the Beast have a history

-El will grow a strong friendship with Red, who sneaks into Arendelle

-El has four cousins (Anna and Kristoff had 4 kids)

[anxiouslyfred]

Catch the Scene

Summary: Roman asked for photos he thought magical as a kid and soon found photography as a hobby. A hobby that can become a job if acting has a spell of failed auditions.

Author's note: I wish I had more energy to write more of this. The manager, I think, could be Logan, but it felt clunky to add in an introduction line, then weird to just have the name thrown into it.

My idea prompt for today: Photographer Roman, starts as wanting to capture fairytale settings to try describing later. The starts photographing pretty boys he sees and sometimes gets dates when he admits to it. Trying to go professional comes during an acting dry spell.

/\/\

Roman loved fairytales and that was as true when he was a child as it was now. When he was younger and his parents controlled the camera he’d beg and beg for pictures to be taken of places or scenes he insisted were out of fairytales. Remus did the same but for bins, dumps and roadkill so the times they’d agreed to the pictures Roman wanted were often followed with far less pleasant pictures in the family albums.

Then they were given disposable cameras and Roman could seek out the different areas he believed magic happened in freely. He’d run off on family trips to explore the wilderness and try to find the best pictures. Remus usually ran in the opposite direction and came back thrilled over animal droppings and bugs, some he’d taken a picture of then squashed in a notebook to ensure he could show them off as soon as possible.

Their parents were definitely amused at how trying to treat their sons equally somehow played into both kids interests as they grew up. Roman kept his photography up, sometimes claiming he had to go to a specific location or place he’d previously photographed in order to take more photos and properly imagine the scene now happening there in his mind. He got into theatre, and volunteered to help design the backdrops the school could afford, using his photos as inspiration often.

Remus meanwhile kept looking for bugs and animal waste. He took an interest in zoology and somehow made that a career and nobody was quite sure how that happened. Their parents claimed it was because of a camera and notebook of squashed bugs but most people never believed that.

/\

Both boys befriended people, often completely different people since their interests were so removed nowadays, but once or twice the same person befriended each of them. Virgil was one of those people, even if he refused to let Roman take him exploring.

“What’s with the cameras, Princey? I thought your space was on stage or in front of them, not the tech side of things.” He asked, looking around Roman’s dorm. Virgil was on the tech team of the current production and had come over after a practise to relax for a while. “If Remus’s dorm wasn’t 3 buildings away I’d ask if he was storing his stuff here.”

“Excuse you.” Roman span from where he’d been checking his hair hadn’t been messed up, “The lenses are utterly different, mine are specialised for wide shots and broad focus. Remus for some ungodly reason thinks a narrow focus is best and couldn’t even get a decent full body photo of a person if he wanted to with them.”

“Not sure you know how camera lenses work, but chill. I was just asking.” Virgil stepped back, looking at the cameras again. “So you take pictures of people a lot?”

Roman shook his head, “They’re for landscapes where magic and romance is waiting to happen, and occasionally pretty men that need their beauty to be recorded. Please remain in that spot for a moment, the lighting is perfect. I hope you don’t mind me taking your picture since you’ve mentioned my photography equipment so much.”

“Fine, but don’t show anyone. I cannot have the pressure of matching a photo for the rest of our friendship.” Virgil grumbled, but remained mostly still as Roman found the right view.

/\

There had been no successful auditions for a while and Roman needed something to earn money from; That was the main inspiration behind his application as a photographer being sent to various publications and agencies.

“I’ll admit when I saw the initials R. Pompadour I believed it was Remus applying for the position. It’s widely known that his papers are all backed with evidence he photographed himself as well as that he’s changed focuses based on whims before now.” The manager said, leading him through to the interview room.

Roman chuckled a little, “Yes, we were both given disposable cameras as young boys and got better cameras often as we grew up. If you look through my portfolio you’ll see the types of pictures I specialised in is quite different to Remus’s however.”

“Clearly. You are comfortable including people in your photos?” They asked, picking out a few which did. As a wildlife magazine, Roman could guess they’d heard of Remus’s refusal to, in his words, ‘photograph such a dull subject matter when the interesting bits are always so covered.’

“Yes, although areas of natural beauty are my most frequent subject.” He agreed.

The manager smiled, “I believe you would be good for the role then. We do have other applicants to interview but you should be hearing within a few weeks if you are successful.”

[hughiecampbelle]

Imagine being in a queer, platonic relationship with Roman:

Requested: anon

"They won't get it."

"They don't have to." You shrugged, sitting beside him in the bed. Roman watches you carefully, thinking back to what his brother and sister said. Of course they made fun of him. His lack of sexuality put another target on his back, another place for his siblings to aim. He'd had relationships in the past, but they always fizzled out. They wanted things he couldn't get from him, things he couldn't do, at least not comfortably. Partners put his lack of interest on display, rubbing it in his face, as if there were something wrong with him. He's not sure how you came into his life, only that you were there, one day, and you haven't left him since. You hit it off immediately. Behind the crude jokes was someone sensitive, hurting. You were patient with him, showing him you wouldn't make him into a joke. You would never. He had enough of that in his life.

"You won't leave?" His voice is small. It took a lot of explaining and re-explanation. He'd never heard of a queer platonic relationship before. When he finally understood, he became defensive. Did you think he wasn't capable of a sexual relationship? No, no, that's not at all what you were saying. He could have one if he wanted, but you knew he didn't actually want that. He did it because he thought he was supposed to, because he was pressured into it by everyone in his life. You obviously cared about one another. You were already close friends, what was so different? You told him nothing would happen between you, you'd just sort of play it off as if you were a couple. You were pretty convincing, too. You almost had him fooled. Of course his siblings asked about your sex life, which you were more than happy to lie about. This relationship saved both of you from having to partake in something that was, frankly, miserable. Dreadful. The idea gave him a lot of

"I won't leave."

[ao3-shenanigans]

You quick question, what's your opinion on my favourite AU's? And how would you rank them?

Here's what they are (not in favourite order):

Dance Studio AU (Think of them being partnered up on purpose for either the pinning or the enemies to lovers!!!)

Famous Actor AU (Think of the fake/secret dating!! I'm more of a sucker for fake dating where they hate each other's guts so...)

Bed and Breakfast/Diner AU (This is just in my head where all my favourite characters from this one fandom run this place together!)

Historical AU (THE DRESSES AND GOWNS!!! THE DRAMATIC CASTLESSS!!)

Time Loop AU Time Loop AU Time Loop AU Time Loop AU Time—

Star Tears AU and/or Hanahaki AU (I prefer when they DON'T have a happy ending but to each their own)

Musical/Theatre AU (Imagine them practicing the kiss scenesss)

Wrong Number AU ("Uhhh so this isn't Character A?" "Dude, how forgetful are you?")

YOUTUBER AU!!!! (Reaction Channel x Murder Mystery Channel, anyone)

Meeting again years later (THE POSSIBILITIES!!!)

These aren't ALL of my favs, but yeah, tell me what you think!! (No pressure though, this is just for sillies)

Oh this is such a good question! I’ve honestly not read a ton of other profession au’s; I think certain fandoms have favorite AU’s that are done a lot and the ones I frequent are mostly Time Travel

1. Time Loop/Time Travel is my absolute bread and butter- dudes think about the Roman Empire weekly, I think about time travel on a near daily basis 💕

2. Years later- usually a good mix of angst and fluff, gimmie old lovers!

3. Musical theatre is very good- I’ve read a lot of good omens fics about theater, more so in attendance then performance, but *chefs kiss*

4. YouTuber sounds so fun!! I’ve not really read any of these but it sounds liked I’d enjoy them a lot!

5. I’ve only read like one Historical au but it was so good!!! Vintage vampire hunters. I really don’t know what more you want. I might have to see if I can find the link to share

6. Hanahaki but like. Taken in weird interpretations with lot of sci-fi bs science applied to it; I’ve read one or two really good ones; particularly taken in a horror aspect and with the source material’s world building applied to it- 👌✨

7. Idk what a bread and breakfast/diner au would entail but it sounds really cool!

8. Wrong Number: not read any of these that have ever gone anywhere so I don’t really have any opinions on it

9. Famous people. All the drama stresses me lol; I only like these if they sorta knew each other before they got famous (like the stranger things Steve/eddie fics) I’m also not a huge romantic fan as a whole and I think this trope is most often done with proper published romantic novels

[f0xgl0v3]

Gang I realized I’ve dropped off the face of the earth like super duper sorry uh. In news, school started. I’m in twelfth night as Feste, and.. SoN stuff. Happening, Octavian and Michael girdle quest is being written and chapter three, four, and five— therefore the public official super rad announcement of it is soon, both soon to be done and like all that jazz. Uh, SoN re-imagining still going on, I started stranger things and I have.. Octavian news?

Sort of. I have his stupid convoluted name beginning to be laid out, he has a really weird mix of modern naming scheme and traditional Roman (because his mummy is not native to New Rome) and uh, all I can hand you is

Julianus is in there, just because I like the name and something something the Julius family name or whatever uh Julius Caesar.. something. Something. The pair of twins have Apollinaris and Artemisia (I know Artemis is Greek but like somewhere down the line the Greeks under Roman control named some of their kids after the Grecian names and I like Artemisia the painter and I can’t find the Diana equivalent and it works if they are like. Tributes to the patron gods of the house and then there’s like parallels to how the family views their kids and it’s a whole thing) but yeah. Octavian gets to have Julianus in there

Now the fun part. The South Sudanese parts of his name because I decided his mummy’s dad is from South Sudan. Forgive me if I, get anything wrong from my research obviously I am not south Sudanese however. Octavian’s grandfather gave each of his grandkids traditional names to help guide them (they also say stuff about a character because you don’t just name a character without giving their name reason. Especially not someone with such a comically absurd name as Octavian)

So he got Nyok Nihal in his name. Are those both first names? I think so, but Octavian’s entire name is just kinda first names and then his last names slapped together and New Rome has an entirely different naming signature because it is rooted in Roman naming schemes but has morphed due to the outside demigods coming in and therefore is almost its own thing. But also no.

Anyway anyways, those two parts of his name, he probably gets called them separately if anyone uses them (not foreshadowing to something in BoO) but Nihal from what I read usually has to do with growth, new beginnings, spring, life, success. But then Nyok is like, humility and kindness and they tie into his arc that would happen after BoO and in ToA and like- argfhhhhh. It’s him stepping into those names after not feeling like he belongs to them for such a long time

Also uh. Octavian’s grandpa is the GOAT, unproblematic king. We love him, Stan my man.

Along with that, something something. Michael Kahale and his whole name that I don’t have to change because it already fits in with his whole arc and the fact that he has to try and be the one to protect new Rome and its peoples and be a strong foundation but he just wants to go home to his family and isn’t really a military leader guy, that and the pressure with being a Son of Venus and whatever. Like I’ll probably get into it more if I ever deep dive a lot of these characters names, yall know id bring something insane for Bryce or whatever lol.

On that note too, Mercury has a birthday now! Not on topic whatsoever but her official birthday is September 29th, also Mr. pompey the greats birthday. He’s my favorite guy and that makes Mercury’s birthday plant Amaranth and the symbolism lines up there and I really like that also it looks like Mercury. But she gets a little birthday and that’ll probably affect her

Wow Kleos is scattered right now lol. Uh, maybe I’ll get a Bryce Lawerence workshopped backstory out soon, or this one background character in stranger things that I’ve pretty much hijacked (pure fuel guy my beloved). But I’ll see you all later, goodnight, farewell, sweet dreams!!

[cryptid-moose]

tattoo hcs for psych characters

Shawn: - Has a shitty, partially faded stick n poke tattoo of a pineapple on his ankle he did when he was 18 or 19 and couldn't afford to get a professional one done - He also has his mom's birthday tattooed on his wrist (professionally done this time), first line in roman numerals, the second in regular english numbers. Having that little reminder of his mom helps him during times when his mental health gets really bad. - Sometime after Henry gets shot Shawn considers getting his dads bday on his other wrist, idk if he went through with it or not tho.

Gus: - Gus doesn't have tattoos cause if his mother were to ever find out it would break her christian heart....and also she'd probably murder him lol /nsrs - He almost got a tattoo when he was drunk, but he bailed out at the last second. This actually happens quite often. - If he did end up getting a tattoo I'd like to imagine it'd be something space themed :)

Juliet: - Has this really cool floral design with lots of big flowers on the back of her shoulder - She wants to get DOZENS of other tattoos but currently hasn't found the time to schedule an appointment, especially cause most of the tattoos she wants to get done would take multiple, hours long sessions

Carlton: - He, unfortunately, committed the cardinal sin of getting your partner's name tattooed. He's got his ex-wife Victoria's name in a fancy font across his collarbone, probably another attempt to save his marriage -He's going to tattoo removal sessions tho thank god -His pain tolerance is usually higher than most people (he literally drank scalding hot coffee without screaming out in pain lmao), but getting a tattoo makes him so physically uncomfortable that i dont think he'd every get one again, despite how fun getting a tattoo of his favorite gun sounds lol.

Buzz: - Buzz canonically has had a Baha Men tattoo (removed), although this was according to Shawn so you can take that information with a grain of salt lol - Probably has a silly little lineart doodle of an alien somewhere - He and Francine have little matching tattoos of baby ducks <3, Buzz's has a cowboy hat and Francine's has a Wild Rag (the bandana thingies), the artstyle is very similar to the soft fluffy artstyle you see in older children's books, kinda like peter rabbit (but not quite peter rabbit) - Little banana wearing a cowboy hat 💪, Buzz likes cowboys and their hats - A couple doodles of his pets - He's like Kurtis Conner except not edgy (i dont actually think Kurtis is edgy thats just the only way i can describe the difference between them and their tattoos lmao)

Karen: - Has an Iris flower tattoo on her upper arm dedicated to her daughter - Probably has a book/movie quote somewhere - Other than that i don't really see her as being much of a tattoo person, she only ever gets tattoos if its something super meaningful to her

Woody: - Woody has a y2k style hello kitty tramp stamp, why? cause i think it would be funny as hell HSUADFVHUFE - He got it completely seriously too, was a gift from a "tattoo artist friend" (random guy he barely knows who bought a tattoo gun on amazon) - The linework is awful, Woody has never actually fully seen the tattoo, he just took the guy's word for it when he told woody it looked sick as hell. - Has shown it off to everyone at the sbpd, no one has the heart or guts to tell him how bad it looks, Lassiter almost did but Chief Vick stopped him - Has genuinely never occurred to him to ask someone to take a photo of it for him so he can properly see it

Henry: - You'd think he'd have a tattoo but surprisingly he doesn't yet - He would've gotten one already if not for the fact hes very indecisive about that stuff, the whole "drawing that will stay on your body for the rest of your life thing" is a lot of pressure for him - He just worries about getting something that he'll end up hating a few years down the line - Has considered getting a tattoo dedicated to Shawn on multiple occasions, but then Shawn pisses him off once more and he drops the idea again for another couple months lmao

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

You're Special to Me | Us Too

You’re Special To Me is so? mmm I don’t have the words to describe it but. (it’s really good) (all your fics are really good but this one just hit the spot for whatever reason) …any plans for a second part with more comfort than hurt? where the others realize what they’ve been doing to Remus and make it up to him (and summon a mattress from the room and have a cat pile sleepover)? – anon

All I've got to say is: touch-starved Remus. That's it. In anything. Just poor Dukey needing a damn hug. (/nf) – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3323

The others have a nasty habit of comparing Roman and Remus. It starts to get grating after a while. Good thing Roman's always thought his brother was the best.

 

Logan comes up to him when he's in the Imagination weeding Ollie's pond. The Kraken rumbles and shifts in the water, making the reflection dance as he turns to see a figure with a large bag over its shoulder emerge from the mist. He stands up and wipes his hands on his overalls.

"Lolo? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me." Logan finally steps out of the fog, holding one hand in front of his face as if to shield his glasses. "My apologies for intruding, but Roman said I might find you here."

"You found me, good job. Did you want something?"

"I was hoping we could talk."

A cool greyness far starker than the surrounding fog starts to creep into the edge of Remus's vision. "Talk? What about?"

"It's come to my attention that I've been very unfair to you. And by that I mean Roman gave me a kind reminder as to what it's like to have your work process judged, verbally or otherwise, and I'm here to make it up to you."

Remus blinks. Logan is here to what, exactly? And Roman did what? And Logan what? "What?"

Logan sets down the bag on a nearby rock and comes to stand next to Remus, who only then realizes he's wearing over-the-knee muck boots. "It was my fault for assuming that you and Roman would have similar processes because you are both Creativity. My response to realizing my error should not have made you feel as though your process is inferior or inadequate compared to Roman's."

"O-oh. Uh, I don't think you meant it, but, um, thanks?"

"Of course."

"Why're you…" He gestures to Logan's everything. "This?"

"Well, I was hoping we could have another brainstorm if you were feeling up to it—no pressure to say yes, obviously, this was not planned ahead of time—and I brought things to help."

"Help with the brainstorm?"

"Roman had mentioned you were looking to test the salinity of Oliver's pool in case you needed to introduce other creatures to his habitat," Logan explains as he opens the bag and unfolds it to reveal a series of vials and jars held in fabric sleeves, "and so I thought I would—"

"You made this for me?"

Logan pauses, looking up at Remus's disbelieving face. He huffs a laugh. "Yes, Remus, I made it for you. I was intending to leave it with you to do on your own time, but I figured as I had an apology to make—"

"You're forgiven, exonerated, whatever." Remus all but pounces on the bag. "Now shush and help me run some tests. Ollie! Get ready to throw your ball around a lot 'cause we got work to do!"

Logan chuckles and pulls out a notebook as Ollie trills in excitement, already fishing around in the kelp for his ball.

2.

"You got your gloves, right?"

Roman flexes his hand—his already gloved hand—and Remus rolls his eyes. "It's okay, I'm excited too."

"Shut up and let's get going. I want to try and have this ready for the afternoon."

"Shutting up!" Roman opens the Imagination door with a flourish and they walk out into a sunny field of lavender. The smell is nearly overpowering; if it weren't so pleasant, Remus might offer Roman something to plug his nose with, that's how strong it was. The last time his nose had been so thoroughly ensorcelled had been when— "Re? You okay?"

Remus blinks and sniffles. "Yeah. Sorry. Smell got me remembering Willow."

Roman joins him in the quiet as they walk through the field, both of them remembering the baby dragon that loved the flower fields so much when she was still a hatchling. The dragon had grown up and flown off to the Cloud Kingdom, somewhere high up in the Imagination that they could only get to on the back of Roman's dragon—so they didn't go very often anymore. The lavender rustles around their legs and does a great job of cheering them up when they finally find a spot to gather the plants.

"How much do we need?"

"Let's try and fill these baskets if we can, I think we need to have enough for both the glaze and the cake itself."

"Sure." Roman nudges him as they crouch down. "This was a really good idea, Re, I'm glad you suggested it."

"Thanks for coming with me."

"Oh, shoot—" Roman pats his pockets and stands up. "I think I forgot the stopwatch."

"You mean the one that we take into the Imagination each time so we remember what time it is in the rest of the Mindscape? That one? The really important one that we keep on the hook by the door—"

Roman cuffs him half-heartedly on the shoulder. "I'll be right back, you asshole."

"Love you too, Roro."

Roman walks back down the rows of the field as Remus gets to work. He doesn't bother with the gloves, not at first. His hands spend too often smelling of Kraken slime and other gross things, which normally he doesn't mind, but if he has the chance to smell of lavender instead, he'll take it. He falls into a soothing rhythm of plucking and pruning, the basket at his side growing slowly fuller, until a shadow falls across his lap.

"Ro, you're back, did you…?"

He trails off when he looks up and sees someone who is decidedly not Roman.

"…Pat-Pat?"

"Hey, Remus!" Patton looks around. "This place is really pretty. Did you and Roman make it?"

"Yeah." The flowers start to grey a little at the edges. "Did you see him on your way in? Is he almost back?"

"Yeah, I, um, passed him in the hall." He suddenly looks sheepish, fiddling with the sleeves of the hoodie tied around his shoulders. "He agreed to give me a few minutes to apologize to you."

"To what?"

"I'm not very nice to you," Patton says bluntly, "I know I'm not. It was—Roman was really upset with me over the whole baking thing. I didn't know—I didn't realize how it felt that I basically bossed you around for the whole time and you didn't even get to make what you wanted."

"…so you're apologizing for it?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm sorry, Remus, I was mean to you and it wasn't your fault."

"Uh, thanks." He drops another lavender leaf into his basket. "I appreciate that."

"Are you guys making something will all the lavender?"

"Yeah, we're gonna make a tea cake."

Patton claps his hands. "Ooh, that sounds really good! Can I help at all, or should I just wait?"

"I think you'd better wait, Patton, too many cooks and all that," Roman's voice comes over Patton's shoulder and Remus thanks everything he's ever made that his brother knows how to say the stuff he wants to say in the way where no one actually gets mad at him. "But we'll be sure to save you a big slice!"

Patton claps his hands and squeezes Roman in a hug before he's leaving the Imagination. Remus holds his breath until the door closes and then sags into Roman.

"I'm sorry," Roman murmurs, "I didn't realize he'd…I thought that'd be easier on you than it seems like it was."

"It's fine, it's not your fault. He's just a lot sometimes."

"Yeah, he is. But on the good side, I'm pretty sure that means you and I have free run of the kitchen all afternoon."

"Can we make him regret it slightly?"

"Oh, we can make him regret it way more than slightly—"

"Yes."

"—with how good this tea cake is."

Remus pouts and Roman laughs.

3.

"You look sad," comes Janus's voice from beside him as arms wrap around his waist, "so you're getting cuddled now."

Remus just turns his face into the crook of Janus's neck and breathes out, long and slow. Janus hums, setting his chin on top of Remus's neck and rubbing his back. They shift around a little to get elbows out of ribcages and knees out of groins before Janus starts scratching his hand through Remus's hair. Which isn't fair, and he knows it, because it always makes Remus want to tell him what's wrong, even when he doesn't want to.

Like now.

"I'm so tired," he whispers, the words leaving him with no small amount of shame, "I'm just so—I want it to stop."

"Want what to stop, sweetie?"

"This," he mumbles and bonks his head against Janus's chest, "this, this thing in my brain that won't shut the fuck up, I want it to go away and leave me alone."

"Do you want to tell me what it's saying?"

"No."

Janus pauses, then shifts up enough to press his mouth against the crown of Remus's head. "You be quiet in there, you here me? Don't make me put my angry gloves on."

The reference to a set of gloves Remus had made when they were younger, complete with snarling mouths that opened up when the palm was exposed, makes him laugh. Janus chuckles along with him, kissing his forehead and holding him a little tighter.

"You're doing so well, sweetie. Everything is a lot right now and you're dealing with it as best you can. You're going to be okay."

"I'm really tired, Janny."

"Then sleep." He shifts underneath him to lie down properly, Remus arranged atop him like some great weighted blanket. "You're nice and warm and I am excellent at cuddling. Have a nap."

"Right here?"

"Yes, on this couch, where we're both safe, where I can take care of you and steal all of that body heat you and Roman hoard to yourselves." Another kiss to his temple. "Do you want a blanket too?"

"Yeah."

A quick snap of Janus's fingers and there's a thick green comforter resting on top of them, not too heavy, not too hot, just enough weight and cover that some part of Remus actually relaxes underneath it. His eyes begin to drift closed against his will, something he knows Janus realizes by the slightly smug turn in the air.

"Shh, now," comes the soft voice, "that's it, sweetie, just go to sleep. It's alright, everything's alright, you're safe with me, I'll take care of you."

"I don't know when the last time someone hugged me who wasn't Roman was."

Janus is quiet for a minute. Then: "I hope you know I'm not letting you out of here until dinner time, and maybe not even then."

"Okay."

"And I might kidnap you to warm up my room since I've been getting cold falling asleep."

"Okay."

"And I might have to get Virgil to help me too."

"…okay."

"As long as you're aware of what's about to happen, sweetie."

"Mm."

4.

Janus does end up telling Virgil, which is how he ends up with a heavy lapful of Emo one evening when they're all lazing around before movie night. He'd sat down on the couch to finish digesting the insane about of spaghetti he'd managed to eat during dinner, and yelped when something landed on his lap, sighed, and squirmed around to get comfortable.

"Virgil?"

"Hey, Remus." Virgil grins up at him. "You don't get to be mad about me surprising you when that's literally all you do to us."

"I wasn't—okay, maybe slightly," he amends when Virgil gives him a look, "but…it's not like you do this, not to me."

"Yeah, well." Virgil shifts a bit more and one hand comes up to clumsily pat Remus's shoulder. "You and I haven't been around each other that much lately. I gotta make up for lost time and all that stuff."

"You do?"

Something flickers across Virgil's expression and he sits up, his face only a few inches from Remus's. "Yeah, Remus. We were—not as close as you and Janus were, but we were close. You used to sneak into my room to put on crazy shadow puppet shows and I used to run to you when I was scared of the thunder. And then I…left, and we haven't really been that close since."

"Because you made everyone think we didn't like each other."

He winces. "Yeah, I know. But I—hmm. I'm really trying to be better about that, Remus, I am. I really did miss you."

"You did?"

"Yeah." Virgil quickly glances around and leans closer. "Don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

"Okay."

"The reason I started picking on Princey at first was because he reacted kinda like you did when I pushed Janus's buttons. He got all uppity and loud and it made me think of how you'd always pretend to be some weird knight riding to Janus's defense whenever I pissed him off."

Remus's cheeks flushed. He'd forgotten about that, when Virgil was being a pest and Janus was running out of patience, he'd jump in between them and start a play fight with Virgil to defuse the tension and get everyone laughing again. To hear—well, he'd known that Virgil got close to Roman for similar reasons—but something like this? Just because he missed Remus? And here he was thinking that Virgil was thanking his lucky black holes that he was away from Remus.

"I didn't know."

"I know you didn't," Virgil says, his voice softer now, "and I know you didn't think I cared enough to notice you were touch starved."

"Well—I—I didn't—I only—Janny said—"

"Janus said, Roman said, I thought." Virgil flops back down onto his lap, burying his face in his stomach as he wraps his arms around Remus's waist. "You get cuddles because you need them, and I give them to you 'cause I spent too many years pretending I didn't wanna."

"That was mean," but it's weak as Remus starts to sag into the warm embrace.

"I know, bud, and I'm done with being mean to you. Now we just get along unless we're play fighting, deal?"

Remus nods back, but his voice is too shot to make anything close to a reasonable response, and Virgil doesn't seem to mind.

5.

He's having another bad day when Roman sinks into his room and carts him back off to the Imagination, this time picking one of their favorite rooms in the high castle. It's all warm grey stone and warm wooden floorboards that've been sitting in the sun all day, pillows and blankets tossed about the room for making temporary mattresses. He sags into Roman's side and refuses to budge when Roman insists on getting some of the blankets and pillows.

"In a second," he laughs as Remus whines in protest, "just let me go for two seconds and you'll be happier, I promise."

Remus pouts but does wait the few seconds for Roman to throw something together. Then he just lifts his arms like he's a toddler asking to get picked up. Which he does, and he's tossed unceremoniously onto the pile of pillows. He bounces and Roman laughs at his surprised face.

"Come on, no pouting," he teases, lying down in the blankets too and pulling Remus into a cat pile, "let's just enjoy the sunset, okay?"

Imagination sunsets are the best. There are always a ton of pretty colors, always enough strategically placed clouds to keep you from being entirely blinded, and they last for just as long as you want them to. The one today they can see through the wide windows of the high tower is no exception. Rich blues and purples chase the reds and pinks around the sky, the clouds airbrushed with the most delicate versions of the colors as the sun slowly descends over the hills. There's no risk of mugginess this high up, nor any biting insects thanks to the constant breezes around the top of the tower. Remus feels his eyelids growing heavier and heavier as he sinks into Roman's embrace.

"Hey," Roman whispers and he hums something in reply, "you're the best brother ever, you know that?"

"No, you."

"No, you." Roman squeezes him around the middle and presses a gross, smacking kiss to his cheek. "And I love you."

"Don't get all sappy, Ro."

"Sunsets are sappy times, Re! Besides, you've had a really long day and that means getting cuddles while I tell you how much I love you 'cause you're a great brother."

"You mean it's the time you try to kill me with sap overload."

"Semantics."

Remus swats half-heartedly at him and his drama queen of a brother yelps like he's been struck with a whip, but he can't keep the smile off his face.

Roman loves me. He really, really loves me.

It would be a very different world if he didn't have such an amazing brother.

+1.

There are still bad days where he doesn't feel like getting out of bed or talking to someone who isn't his brother.

There are more good days. Days like this, where he gets to spend it surrounded by his family.

"Shush," Virgil mumbles, swatting Logan's leg with a pillow as he tries to go on another rant about a certain trope that Remus never caught the name of, "it's sleep time."

"You're going to fall asleep on the floor?"

"Right, good point. Princey?"

"Coming right up." Roman snaps his fingers and the familiar giant mattress appears in the middle of the living room, much to the delight of Virgil and Janus, who both sprawl onto it like overgrown kittens.

"You both need to make some room," Remus grunts as he shoves at an errant leg, "c'mon, let the rest of us on."

"Ooh, I want Remus cuddles today," Virgil mumbles, only for Janus to snatch him. "Hey!"

"Too slow."

"Children," Logan scolds, reaching out and ruffling Remus's hair with a wink, "I could've sworn we talked about consensually abducting cuddle victims."

"I'll fight you for him," Virgil declares, already reaching for a pillow, but Patton grabs it instead. "Hey!"

"No," Janus whines as Patton joins in the playful fight for Remus cuddles—when Remus himself is more bemused than anything else and Roman and Logan are just smiling, the useless wonderful bastards— "get your own Remus! This one's mine!"

"That's all of our Remus, you have to share!"

"Yeah, give us each a limb or something."

"No, I want the torso!"

"I want the head," Logan remarks casually with another wink when Remus blushes, "but I think Roman would prefer we kept his brother intact as much as possible."

"You can share," Remus gasps out eventually when he's getting battered with pillows, "I wanna cuddle all of you!"

"Well, if that's what he wants—"

"Who are we to say no?"

Janus just chuckles as the four of them quickly make themselves at home in the middle of the blanket, arms slung over Remus until he can't quite tell whose limbs are whose. But the warm pressure and familiar scents of all of them right here, safe, under the blankets are sending the everything good, sleep now signals that his brain is having a hard time ignoring.

So maybe he won't ignore them and he'll just fall asleep.

He makes eye contact with Roman before his eyes slip closed properly and the last thing he sees is Roman's soft grin.

There will be good days, there will be bad days.

But Remus never feels truly grey ever again and for that, he's happy.

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[senasadventures]

Hey! (It's me, almathecolormaniac just in asks tumblr only lets the main blog to ask)

Do you mind if i ask here, about your comic?

Like how did this story come to your mind, or what is your motivation to make tangible. (i mean my ideas for stories never get further than my mind 😆) And what does the drawing process look like for you?

When did you found alta and what is that you like about it, do you like to read fan fictions too?

Or just ramble as much and about anything or nothing really, no pressure i dont mind at all.

If anything, thanks for your art and have a good day!

Hello there! Thanks a lot for your message!

I’m posting this as public because maybe it could help somebody else too. When I first started making this comic, I was really overwhelmed and wished there was someone to share their own experience to help.

This is going to be long!

When I first started with Sena's story, I was not intending to write a tangible story or make it into an actual comic. I was simply drawing a character as I was fantasizing about an Avatar story.

Just with this little drawing, there was immediately a concrete picture of what kind of character this was in my head, along with her age, her name, her possible path... Other characters followed in much of the same way, without even trying to create them. It was like they were just there. Sometimes the stars will align and such things will happen.

It's interesting how it all started with Nina (whom you do not know yet) and not with my main character Sena. But it's not strange as I always loved drawing waterbenders the most (and their hair loopies)! Nina gave me the headstart to imagine all the rest.

Wishing to give these characters the story they belong to, I began writing , in book format, without any plans on what to do with it later.

I talked about this in another post before, but one of my biggest motivations was that I wasn't content with what followed after the original show and really wanted to see what I'd do with the Avatar Universe. I wanted to prove that a story didn't need to have war, epic battles, villains or "edgy" superpowers to be interesting. And I wanted it to be about "kids", having the same naive and simple (yet deep) quality that I love about AtLA.

Much of the initial writing came naturally to me, and I was influenced by the themes that played out in my own life. Many of Sena's struggles are also my struggles and it means a lot to me to find out where they lead in Sena's case. I write the story as I go and although there are certain events I already know I want to lead into, much of it is still uncertain.

( One of the influences to this story was The Neverending Story, which I had read shortly before I started writing this story. Some of Sena's characteristics were inspired by Bastian, and Kai's were inspired by Atreyu. )

At some point I decided to make this into a comic, which I was hesitant since I knew it would be laborious, but it was the medium that this story would really flourish and catch other's attention as well. And I did want to share it.

There were a lot of tasks ahead of me before I could actually start drawing the first pages. I have different locations in this story, different cultures. I needed a visual language for them.

Shun Fei is a culture that borrows from both the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom, but it's not supposed to look like either of them. On top of that, it has some of what may be called Western influences to it, as it carries the kind of values that in our world, first came to be in the West. In order to incorporate that while preserving the Asian aesthetic of the Avatar Universe, I borrowed some subtle elements from both Roman and 19th century European aesthetics, or even a little bit of medieval Europe. The pillar architecture of the Shun Fei government building, or the white shirts with puffed sleeves and raised collars of Shun Fei citizens are examples to that. For the color scheme, I went with white, black and brown. It's weird how that hadn't immediately occur to me, but was the most sensible choice, given everything about Shun Fei.

At times, I kept some colors and elements from Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation fashion, but I think it was too much. I actually generally dislike this frame anyway :D

When you're making a comic, there are so many details that are invisible to the viewer, but you nevertheless have to work on. To be honest, it was driving me crazy, because I was unable to produce anything visible for a while. It's best to know this beforehand and be patient with the early stages of your work. It is going to save you so much time later on.

Once I started drawing the pages, there was once again, a lot more that was driving me mad.

I was trying to be authentic with my visual language of the comic, such as the design of the frames and the flow of the story, because I wanted this to have a "book-ish" feeling and a little bit of ancientness to it. I didn't want it to feel like a modern comic. This was taking a lot of effort, because there isn't anything exactly like it that I can imitate.

Secondly, drawing comics is A LOT OF work. It takes so much time that I was unable to move forward with the story! I went from fully colored to monochrome, and later from hand-drawn to all digital. I tried a lot of different approaches and if you look carefully, you can see how the style changes throughout the pages, which I think is not a good thing professionally, but fortunately this is a personal project from which I'm learning.

What I currently do is, I make a storyboard on paper with adequate details to use as a sketch under my digital lineart process later on. I have at least 3-4 other pages' storyboards ready before I start drawing a page digitally. I used to make the storyboards from the text I wrote when I began writing the story in book format, which was difficult to adapt. Nowadays I'm working on a segment which I hadn't written in text and I directly write on the storyboard.

I still don't know how some people can draw so many pages in so little time, it's a mystery to me. But I did get faster and more efficient in time, mostly because I understood how to do things and don't have to think every single thing through anymore.

Another thing with my process is how much I've found it difficult (and mostly still find) going consistently at it. There were many long breaks along the way and it took me longer than 2 years before I made 20 pages and started uploading this comic here.

All of these things can be very discouraging. I questioned my ability to be professional a lot, which I do want to be, since I don't want Sena's Adventures (and other stories I want to make) to just be my story and stuck with me. I want to share it with the world and do it in the best way possible. (It was my dream ever since childhood) To do that, you need many practical skills. But these do come in time and I feel a lot more confident now. I love this story, I've had a bond with it and I love doing something related to AtLA, my old time love. And I really wanted to see where this experience would take me, so I stuck with it.

A lot of people, like me, miss the Avatar of their childhood. I wanted to make a story that had the same kind of feeling. I tried to stick to the original spirit of the show, while incorporating elements that matter to me on a personal level and which I believe are on the same line with AtLA.

-----------

For your second question,

I used to see AtLA on TV as a kid and at some point I started to get interested in it, and later became a die-hard fan. It was 2008 and I was 12. This also marked my entry to digital art and the DeviantArt community, which became a huge thing for my life. I kept making Avatar fanarts until I was like 14-15, some of which were fairly popular back in the day! Good times.

As a kid and teen, I was someone who always lived with fantasies of my current favorite show in my head, the most long lasting one being AtLA. I wonder how many nights I must have fallen asleep thinking about the next romance story between Aang and Katara.

I occasionally had attempts to illustrate stories in my head throughout the years, but these were mainly childish attempts (although there's nothing wrong with that) and always left too early, so I never knew what a professional effort would look like until I began this project. It has been a great learning opportunity.