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supernovafics · 9 months

Note

Hi! I recently found your "I'll be there for you" universe and I love it.

I was wondering if you'd want to do a sick fic where reader gets a sudden fever/body aches/chills/so on and tries to shrug it off as no big deal even though it absolutely is and Steve, the ultimate caretaker he is, forgets all about his plans for the evening to stay in and take care of them. Thank you, have a great week!

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k words

warnings: explicit language, descriptions of sickness/being sick, brief mentions of parental neglect, mentions of weed, overall very soft and wholesome and cozy<3

summary: in which you and steve are sick on christmas

author's note: thank u for the request !! when i started this series one of the first ideas i had was something where reader and steve are sick during the holidays so this request fit with that perfectly<33 i couldn't really figure out how to end this so it kinda just ends lmao

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1985

“This is your fault,” You told Steve as you sniffled.

“I know, I know,” He responded— he had been hearing your grumbling from the moment you woke up, so he was pretty much used to it by now. He walked over to where you were sitting on the couch and held out a capful of cough syrup for you to grab. “Here. Take this.”

“Thank you,” You mumbled as you drank the medicine and then immediately went to grab your glass of water sitting on the coffee table because of how strong and bitter the cherry flavoring was. “Ugh.”

You now fully regretted that moment a few nights ago where you and Steve sat out on the fire escape and smoked weed in the freezing weather; an idea that had fully been Steve’s. It was fun in the moment, even though you could barely remember most of the conversation the two of you had, but a hint of a cold started building from the second you woke up that next morning and now it was at its worst. You currently had a stuffy nose and a horrible cough that gave you the shittiest headache. And after hours of laying in your bed and falling in and out of sleep, you finally decided to go out into the living room and complain to your best friend about how much you blamed him for your current sickness.

“Can you pass me the blanket, please?” You asked, pointing to the one that was laying on the back of one of the dining table chairs; it was barely five feet away but you didn’t have it in you to move out of the comfortable position you found yourself in on the couch.

“You become such a baby when you’re sick,” Steve told you with a roll of his eyes that you knew wasn’t serious as he handed you the knitted throw blanket, which you immediately wrapped around yourself after putting your water back down.

“Oh, whatever. I swear you’re always worse than me,” You said with your own eye roll; if he was closer to you, you would’ve given his arm a light smack. Your gaze moved upward, taking note of the time on the clock that hung on the wall above the television; it was a small round red clock that Steve had thrifted a few months ago. “Anyway, when are you heading to the Wheeler’s Christmas Eve party? Make sure you have fun for the both of us, and bring me back some of those gingerbread cookies that Karen makes.”

Steve sat next to you on the couch. “I’m not gonna go to the party.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in both surprise and confusion when you heard him say that because he loved going to that holiday party just as much as you did. All of the kids would be there as well as Robin and Eddie, and always at some point during the night, you all would end up migrating downstairs to the basement away from the real adults. The kids and Eddie would start playing D&D as you, Robin, and Steve sat on the sidelines watching the madness unfold. And then eventually the three of you would simply start playing random card games with Nancy and Jonathan.

“I won’t be mad if you go. Jokingly, yes— I’ll probably pretend to be mad at you for going for the next few days. But, I’m not actually,” You told him and then sniffled again because you couldn’t help it.

“No, it’s okay,” He said as he leaned back on the couch. “I don’t wanna go without you.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, well, in that case,” You scooted closer to him on the couch and leaned your head on his shoulder. It was a position that never failed to comfort you, and you especially needed that in this moment where your body was telling you that you needed to sleep and the cough syrup you just took was making it easier to do so. “Thank you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You weren’t entirely sure how or when you ended up in your bed, but you were happy about it. It was now dark outside and the digital clock sitting on your nightstand told you that the time was only nine o’clock.

You turned on your side and saw Steve next to you— head against one of your pillows, eyes shut, and lips slightly parted. It was a nice surprise seeing him asleep next to you, but you also knew that he probably shouldn’t be.

You reached out and lightly poked his cheek a few times. His eyes slowly opened just for a second before closing again and he let out a soft, “Hm?”

“You’re gonna get sick too if you sleep here,” You told him.

“I wanna stay close just in case you need something.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “And you wonder why I act like a baby when I’m sick. It’s because you treat me like one.”

“Well, someone has to.” Steve shrugged through his half-asleep daze and you knew exactly what he meant by his words.

When you were younger, before you met him, you had gotten so used to taking care of yourself because your parents weren’t the type to do much; your dad was always on some sort of business trip and your mom was always busy working at her office. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time either of them gave you medicine or soup or even worried about you at all when you got sick. However, the day your parents met Steve’s on that cruise and it was discovered that you all lived in towns that were only twenty minutes away from one another, things changed— you and Steve started taking care of each other.

In tenth grade when you got the flu, he spent his lunchtime every day that week driving to your house to check on you. And even though he hated school, he’d still go to yours and pick up your assignments from one of your friends, and he’d help you do most of them so you didn’t fall behind too much; most of it was wrong, but it was the thought that counted. And when he got sick last Summer, you spent every night at his house until he felt better. It was slightly funny because those four days led you to getting sick the next week, and it felt like that same thing was about to happen in this instance.

“You saying that just reminded me that I need to call my mom and tell her that I can’t come to the Christmas brunch thing she set up with my Aunt and cousin,” You shifted a bit and pulled the blanket higher over you. “Now, I’m actually glad that I’m sick.”

“I already called and told her while you were sleeping, but she didn’t really believe me, so yeah you should probably call her too,” Steve said, which made you laugh a bit.

“That’s actually not surprising. I’ll call in the morning,” You said and then yawned. “You don’t have to go to your parent’s tomorrow, right?”

“Nope, they’re in California for this business thing my dad has to be at.”

“Nice,” You responded with a small nod. “For some reason, I can’t remember the last time it was just you and me during Christmas.”

“Ninth grade,” Steve said with a small sleepy smile on his face and his eyes opened again. “My parents were out of town, and then yours had to leave too to do something last second. We had the great idea to set up the tent I got in sixth grade and camp out in my backyard.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said, laughing at the memory. “We got way too cold around one in the morning and decided to just sleep in front of the fireplace in the living room.”

“I wish this place had a fireplace.”

“We can sleep in front of the radiator?”

Steve thought about your suggestion for a second before shaking his head. “Not the same.”

“Okay, that’s true,” You said with a quick nod before reaching beneath the blanket and lightly poking his t-shirt covered side. “Hey, do you remember what I got you that year?”

Steve immediately let out a laugh. “Yes, and I actually still have that Mickey Mouse poster.”

You turned away from him then and covered your face with your hands. “Oh, God. No, you don’t. You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I do,” Steve said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “It’s rolled up in my closet. I would go grab it, but I’m too tired to move right now.”

You remembered exactly how excited you had been to give him that poster, which was supposed to be a really cool picture of one of his favorite basketball players, and the guy that you bought it from at the flea market even told you that it was signed. But when Steve pulled it out of the plastic and unrolled it in his living room on Christmas, instead of it being anywhere close to a photo of any basketball player, it was a picture of Mickey Mouse on a train.

“I’m still so embarrassed and mad that the sales guy at that flea market tricked me,” You said and sighed. You were still a little upset with yourself that you didn’t make him open up the poster and show it to you before you bought it, but he said that was “against the rules” since it was sealed in the plastic, and that reasoning had somewhat made sense to you. “And it’s not like I could try to return it or yell at him because the flea market was only here for a weekend.”

“Now that you’ve brought it up, I think we should hang the poster up in the living room. Maybe where the dining table is?”

You turned to face Steve again. “I will never allow that to happen.”

“I guess I’ll just have to put it up when you fall asleep,” He said, and you ignored his overdramatic wince when you playfully punched his arm. “Do you remember what I got you for Christmas that year?”

“Of course,” You nodded. You still had that silver bracelet he got you, and you were a thousand percent certain that you would keep it forever, even though now it just sat in your jewelry box because the clasp broke sometime last year. “I still can’t figure out how to fix that damn clasp.”

“I could just get you another one.”

“Not the same,” You told him with a quick shake of your head. “One day I’ll figure out how to fix it.”

“Okay,” He said and then brought up a different time that the two of you decided to try camping in his backyard, which was in the Summer and on a very warm night, but you and him still didn’t fully spend the night outside because there were too many bugs.

You laughed at the memory as Steve talked about it now because it just reminded you that you and him were probably the least “outdoorsy” people ever, but somehow that never stopped either of you from trying to be.

That was how the rest of the night went; reminiscing about more random stuff— memories from various moments of your friendship that always made you smile or laugh or even feel a little bit embarrassed— until both of you fell asleep again. And it wasn’t the biggest surprise when Steve woke up in the morning sniffling.

“I told you this would happen,” You said to him as you walked back to your bed, cough syrup in hand because you knew that he’d be needing it. You were actually feeling the tiniest bit better; still pretty bad but not as horrible as yesterday.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” He grumbled as he rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and then sneezed.

“Here. Take this,” You said with a small smile, mimicking the same words he had said to you yesterday.

“Our roles changed way too fast,” Steve said before drinking the capful of cough syrup. “I was supposed to be taking care of you, and now you’re the one taking care of me.”

“We’ll take shifts on who gets to be the more helpless one,” You told him amusingly. “Right now it’s your turn. Do you want some water?”

He nodded and you went to the kitchen to grab a bottle and then handed it over to him before you settled back in the bed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A handful of hours passed, all of which marked the most boring Christmas you’d probably ever had; but you’d take this silence and sickness over a tense brunch with your mom any day.

You were reading a book and Steve was still asleep next to you, turned on his side and blanket covering his head. A knock on the front door pulled your focus away from the page you were in the middle of reading.

You really didn’t feel like getting out of bed to answer it, but you also didn’t want to wake Steve and make him go do it, so with a sigh, you closed your book and placed it on the nightstand and then walked out of your bedroom. You headed to the couch first to grab the knitted throw blanket and wrap it around your shoulders so that it covered your bare legs, and then you proceeded to answer the door.

Miss Johnson, the sweet older woman that lived a few doors down, stood in front of you with a red and green plaid patterned tin of what you assumed were the Christmas cookies that she told you about the first time you met. When you and Steve moved into the building, she introduced herself on that first day and gave you a welcome basket of muffins that were probably the best muffins that both you and Steve had ever had, and she also mentioned that for the holidays she gave out cookies to people in the building.

She smiled at you for a brief second before a surprised look crossed her face. “Hi– Oh, you look terrible. What happened?”

Somehow the brutal honesty actually felt more sweet and worried than rude; and it warmed your heart and simultaneously hurt it so fucking bad that she was the only older adult in your life that actually seemed to care.

You let out a small cough. “Me and Steve are sick right now. Just a cold.”

“Oh no, that stinks,” She said with a frown, and then held the tin out toward you. “Here take these cookies and I’ll be right back. Let me go make you both some soup.”

You grabbed the tin and smiled at her. “Thank you so much for the cookies, but you don’t have to make us soup.”

In all honesty, you would’ve loved soup at that moment because you and Steve hadn’t eaten all day aside from the two slices of buttered toast that he made around noon, since neither of you could really be bothered to make anything else. But, Miss Johnson had already made the cookies for you two, so you felt bad about her also doing this for you and Steve.

She shook her head at you. “No, no, it’s not a problem at all. I know I already have all of the ingredients, so it’ll just take me fifteen minutes, twenty tops.”

You were about to assure her again that she really didn’t have to do that, but she was already walking away and heading back down the hall before any word could leave your mouth.

There was something about the gesture that felt way too sweet and nice, and it made you wish that you had someone like her in your life when you were younger. And then that thought made you feel so fucking grateful that for the past almost ten years, you had Steve.

You placed the cookie tin on the kitchen counter and then tightened your blanket around you. You could see from the large window that led out to the fire escape that the sun was beginning to set, and as you got closer and peaked below at the street, you saw that some snow still lingered on the ground from when it came down a few days ago; the same night that you and Steve sat out on the fire escape.

The sudden sound of Steve saying, “Please don’t go out there. I don’t wanna repeat this sick cycle,” made you turn around and look at your best friend. He had slipped on a hoodie, which was yours (although back in high school it technically had been his), and his hair was the messiest you’d seen it in a while, and that let you know exactly how bad he was probably feeling right then.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going out there without an actual jacket anytime soon.”

“Okay, good,” He yawned and then smiled when he saw what was on the counter. “Miss Johnson brought the cookies?”

“Yes,” You said, walking back to the kitchen and watching as Steve opened up the tin. There were at least a dozen cookies in it; a mixture of Christmas trees, Santa Clauses, and snowflakes. “She also went to go make us soup since we’re sick.”

“She’s way too nice to us,” Steve said and grabbed one of the Santa Claus cookies.

“I agree,” You told him, deciding to grab a snowflake cookie for yourself. “Meanwhile, we’re horrible people and didn’t even think about getting her something for Christmas. Once we’re better we have to get her something.”

“Yeah. We can get her a nice sweater or cardigan,” Steve said, and you nodded at that suggestion; whenever either of you saw Miss Johnson she was almost always wearing some sort of fun and colorful cardigan so that idea felt right. He took another bite of the cookie in his hand and then looked at you. “Will this ruin our appetite?”

“Considering the fact that we’ve barely had anything to eat today since we’ve felt so shitty, I don’t think that there’s really an appetite to ruin.”

“Very true.”

The two of you migrated to the couch, bringing the cookie tin along with you, and mindlessly watched the Charlie Brown Christmas special that played on television as you ate some more cookies.

When there was another knock on the door twenty minutes later, right as the Charlie Brown episode ended, you looked at Steve and pulled your legs off his lap. “Your turn to get it.”

He nodded and got up, running a quick hand through his hair, which didn’t really do much to tame it, before opening the door.

“Hi, Miss Johnson,” Steve said, and even though he was facing away from you, you could hear the smile in his voice. He received a smile back as she handed him a full tupperware of soup. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to make this for us.”

“It’s really no problem. I hope you two feel better soon,” She responded. “And also here are some tea bags. You guys should be drinking that too.”

You watched as she put a few in Steve’s free hand. Neither you nor him really liked tea, but you weren’t about to tell Miss Johnson that when she was being so damn nice and thoughtful.

“Thank you so much,” You said from the couch and smiled at her. “Also, we’ve already tried some of the cookies and they’re amazing.”

“Just wait until you try the chocolates I make for Valentine’s Day,” She said and you smiled even wider at that.

“Can’t wait.”

She said her final goodbyes and headed back down the hall to her apartment after telling you both that you could knock on her door if you needed anything; more soup, medicine, etc. And that offer, which sounded completely genuine, only further confirmed the fact that you and Steve definitely needed to get her a gift as soon as possible.

Steve pulled two bowls out of one of the cabinets and split the soup, which you then learned was chicken noodle, evenly in both of them and then handed one over to you.

“Thanks,” You said as he also gave you a spoon and then sat down on the couch again.

He took control of the TV remote and you didn’t argue when he stopped on a channel that was playing a James Bond movie. After finishing your soup, you maneuvered around so that you were laying down and your head was in his lap and you fell asleep just like that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another set of hours passed, although you were unaware of exactly how many. You were woken up by the feeling of Steve softly stroking your ear; which he knew would always either annoy you or make you laugh because of how much it tickled— most of the time it was both. This time was no different.

You were laughing as you shooed his hand away. “Stop that.”

“I needed to wake you up.”

You looked up at him and rubbed your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

You nodded at his answer and then suddenly realized through your half asleep daze why he decided to wake you right then. “Oh, we have to open the presents.”

From that very first Christmas you spent together, it was agreed upon that you would do your gift exchange at night— once you both were done being stuck all day with your parents and other family members that you never saw any other time of the year.

You’d sneak off to his house once those family members were gone and your parents were asleep, or he’d come to yours, and then you’d exchange gifts and almost always end up talking about nothing until the morning.

You sat up. “I’m just now realizing that we could’ve done it earlier today.”

“Yeah, but that would’ve broken the tradition,” Steve said and you agreed with that, there was something about always doing the gift exchange at night that felt like the only way to do it at this point.

You went into your bedroom and grabbed Steve’s present that you had stashed away in your closet. When you left your room, you saw that he was already sitting next to the small Christmas tree that sat lit up in the corner close by the window and he was holding what you rightly assumed was your gift from him.

The tree was so small that it didn’t make sense to put gifts under it, so that was why you kept the one you got for Steve in your room and he had yours in his. The only things that did sit next to the tree and slightly under it were the little presents that you both got for Harold the Hamster.

“Merry Christmas, Stevie,” You said, sitting down next to him and giving him his gift. He let out a laugh when he noticed that the green wrapping paper had pictures of polar bears wearing Santa hats on it— when you had seen it weeks ago at the store, you thought it was adorably funny and knew you had to get it.

He handed over the gift he got you and the sight of his messy wrapping job made you smile. “Merry Christmas.”

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A happy yelp emitted from your lips when you saw the vinyl of The Breakfast Club soundtrack. It was quite literally the perfect gift— you had held the tape of the movie that you rented from Steve’s Family Video hostage for a month straight when they first got it in, and sometimes you’d watch the movie just to hear the songs.

“After how many times you watched the movie this year, this felt very fitting,” Steve told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the red bow that was placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at him and smiled. “I hope you’re prepared to hear this at least three times a week for the next few months.”

He laughed a bit. “I knew you were going to say that, and I’ve already accepted the fact that I will have to hear Don’t You Forget About Me on an endless loop for a while.”

“Good,” You said, still smiling, and then you bumped your knee with his. “Open yours.”

Steve finally started opening your gift for him, tearing the wrapping paper off to reveal a shoebox, which had a new pair of white Nikes inside. They were the same as the pair he already had that had the red “swoosh” on the side, but that pair was now a lot less white since he had them since Sophomore year of high school and he’d wear them almost religiously.

“It’s time to retire the ones you’ve had for the past three years,” You said as he pulled out one of the sneakers. “Oh, also, there’s a note at the bottom of the box.”

Steve put the one sneaker down and then grabbed the small notecard with your handwriting on it that was buried underneath the other one. “‘This is long overdue. You probably should’ve gotten rid of your last pair after the basketball season ended Senior year. And speaking of basketball, after your many years of begging and pleading I will finally grant your wish and play basketball with you. You’re welcome. Shit, I already regret writing this.’” He looked at you, a smile growing on his face. “You’re serious?”

“Sadly, yes,” You answered, and when he smiled wider, you said, “It’s only gonna happen one time and just for a couple of hours, and if I break my leg or arm or anything else during this, I will sue you, Harrington.”

You had two left feet when it came to any sort of sport— in a way, it was funny how clumsy you’d get whenever you had to play anything— and Steve knew that, but for perhaps the entirety of your friendship he still always tried to convince you to play basketball with him, and you always said no because why would you ever do something that you knew would only lead to embarrassment? Even if it was just with your best friend. He’d seen more than enough of your accidental embarrassing moments, and in your mind there was no need for him to also see one that could easily be avoided.

But, you knew that finally doing this would make him happy, and that made your imminent embarrassment feel somewhat worth it.

“You’re not gonna break anything, but if you do, I’ll completely understand if you decide to sue me,” Steve said and you could hear the joking undertones in his voice. “So, when can we play?”

“You can choose the day, but please wait until we’re not sick and when it’s not freezing cold outside.”

He nodded at that. “Okay, deal.”

“What did you get Harold?” You asked as you picked up the present next to the tree that Steve had wrapped.

“A new wheel,” He answered and that made you laugh.

“I also got him a new wheel.”

It actually wasn’t entirely surprising that you and Steve had the same gift idea. You two loved Harold with your entire hearts, but at least twice a week he’d wake one or both of you up at three in the morning by running on the current wheel he had, which was the squeakiest thing in the world.

Steve looked over at where Harold’s cage sat on the coffee table in the living room area. “Maybe he’ll like having two.”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Maybe he’ll designate one for daytime running and the other for nighttime running.”

Steve smiled at your joking statement. “Exactly.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

542 notes · View notes

mayhemories · 2 years

Note

reader x Neteyam not established (or Lo’ak) where reader jokes about finding Jake hot and Neteyam changes his hair to look more like his father 🤪 they goofy enough to take it too literally for REAL

Like Father, Like Son

Ok so, I know this was probs supposed to be goofy, funny, ha-ha (would've been goofy, funny ha-ha if it was Lo'ak vers.) but I can't write Neteyam without it being sweet bc he's just a sweet boy!! Hope this is still okay for you Nonnie <3 Also! I wrote this in the airport waiting for my flight jet lagged af with 2 hours of sleep

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar)

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none, just fluff. Kinda cringe and spicy if you squint

Words: 2.2k

Author’s Notes:

Neteyam is 21, reader is 21. Lo’ak and Kiri are roughly 20ish. I’m gonna estimate Tuk is 7 or 8?

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Read Below the Cut:

“Hi kids!” Dr Max greeted you all, reaching for a fist pump with Lo’ak and Neteyam. Kiri made her ‘hello’s’ rather quick, as she rushed to Dr Augastine’s canister. Kiri found the time with her mother sacred, which you could understand. You often wished you had something physical of your own mother left, rather than just the Tree of Voices, but you knew Eywa had blessed the Na’vi in giving them that. And, you were happy for your best friend that she could watch her mother’s video logs. Although, sometimes you worried that Kiri would talk back to them, that she pretended to have a conversation with Grace with the same recordings.

“Lo’ak, Neteyam, check it out, kids!” Norm said as he walked over to the three of you, a screen in his hand. “I’ve dug up some of Jake’s old footage and memories we extracted during the avatar program.” Lo’ak snatched the screen from Norm’s tiny human hands. Flicking through the photos and videos of Toruk Macto, Olo’eyktan Jake Sully. Some of him in his old Sky Person skin, others in his avatar. Which you supposed is his body now. But he looked so very different, so young and carefree and if you were honest with yourself, pretty. Especially with his hair loose, small braids framing his face, and baby hairs resting around his forehead.

“Oh, Dad was so sweet looking!” Kiri joked from behind the three of you, the new photos piqued her interest. Norm and Max shared a laugh.

“Yep! Quite a looker! Had many a lady chasing after him.” Max joked with the kids, small chuckles rippled out of all of Jake’s kids.

Lo’ak flipped the screen around, facing you, with a smirk he asked: “What do you think (y/n)? Think my dad is super hot?” You knew Lo’ak was only teasing you, only joking. But you could not help the violent, deep blush from rising to your face. Lo’ak laughed right in your face upon noticing it, making the whole thing so much worse for you. “Oh my god! You do!” He exclaimed.

You shook your head trying to divert attention, but the lack of your voice confirmed everyone’s suspicions. Kiri began poking you in the shoulder, “(y/n)! You can’t think of my dad like that!”

“No, I don’t” You began the fruitless battle of denial.

“Admit it! Admit it you find this photo of my dad hot!” Lo’ak nearly screamed, thrusting the screen closer to your face. All it did was make you blush more.

It wasn’t that you found the photos of young Jake hot, per se. Obviously, he was, and still is an attractive male. There was no doubt about that. What had made you so obviously hot and bothered was the resemblance you saw in Neteyam. You always thought of Neteyam taking Neytiri’s features, and Lo’ak being more like Jake. But in this light, with this photo, Neteyam was as ripped, as sweet, and as attractive as this young photo of his father. More so.

Thoughts of Neteyam made you hot and bothered on the regular, and this connection you had made in your head made it so much worse.

“Well go on, (y/n), do you think my father was an attractive young man?” Neteyam asked, a slight smile but his teasing was not as cruel as his siblings. With a sigh of defeat and your head hung down, you would do anything Neteyam would tell you to.

“Obviously I do.” You mumbled, covering your face in your slender hands in embarrassment, wishing you had not accompanied the Sully’s just this once.

The door to the lab flung open, little Tuk ran in, her braids bouncing as she did so, with a big smile the young girl cleaved the tension in the room in half.

“Kiri! Kiri, Kiri, Kiri and (y/n)! Grandmother is looking for you two!” Tuk grabbed your’s and Kiri’s wrists, pulling you forward, “C’mon, hurry up! She said you guys are late for lessons.” You let Tuk drag you away from the conversation you wanted to wilt from, silently praising Eywa for her interruption. Kiri complained as usual.

“Ugh, Tuk! Leave us alone!”

Tuktirey did not leave either of you alone, instead marching you both to the T’sahik, like her little life depended on it.

“Hey Norm,” Neteyam started as the two boys got up to leave the lab. “Can I take that tablet, with the photos of dad?”

“Of course kiddo!” Norm said, handing the tablet to Neteyam, smiling as he did so. Norm often felt so lucky to have Jake, like a brother. And in turn, be an uncle to his beautiful kids.

“C’mon bro, you’re so slow!” Lo’ak nagged on the walk back to the Sully residence. Neteyam walked slowly, which was unlike him. As he flicked through the young photos of his father. He would’ve been not all that much older than Neteyam in these photos. Neteyam felt himself get all hot and cold on the inside, like the acid in his stomach began to burn him. Neteyam was always jealous of Lo’ak for inheriting more of their father’s features. Neteyam knew he looked more like his mother. He also knew that Neytiri was extremely beautiful, as well as strong. And, he certainly did not think he was ugly. But he couldn’t help but wish he looked more like Jake.

Especially now, knowing that you found these photos of his father…hot. Neteyam wanted to pluck his own eyes out and force them into his ears. He was already insecure when it came to you. He wanted nothing more than to be your lover, your mate, and the father of your children. He just never had the courage to really broach the topic with you.

“Neteyam, what is wrong my beautiful baby boy?” Neytiri asked, running a hand over his head to cup his cheek. Since returning home from the lab this afternoon, Neteyam’s air was wrong, he was hurting.

“Mother, can you do my hair?” Neteyam asked, looking up at her through his eyelashes. He always did that, Neytiri mused. Since he was a baby, he would only ever ask for things looking up through his lashes. And how could she ever say no?

“My Neteyam, your hair is already braided, it is already done.” Neytiri decided to push the topic further, there was no way Neteyam was this distressed over such a trivial thing. He has never cared what his hair looked like before.

“No, not like this mother.” Neteyam reached out for a tablet laying beside him on the floor, firing it up he swiped until he found the young photo of Jake. “Like this.”

Neytiri smiled, softly. She remembered taking that photo all those years ago. Jake had just taught her how to use the camera. She hated it, she hated most things the Sky People bought here. But she liked the camera, it allowed her to capture all of her loved ones forever.

“Okay.”

Neytiri set to work unbraiding her eldest son’s hair.

“Anyway, so I definitely saw him talk to her, but I don’t think it was like that. He’s just not game enough.” Kiri was ranting about Neteyam, as the two of you worked grinding herbs into paste, and packing that paste into leaves to save them from spoiling. More specifically, Kiri ranted about how you and Neteyam haven’t gotten together yet, which you constantly had to remind her, will never happen.

“Kiri, he is allowed to talk to whoever he pleases, whenever he pleases, however he pleases.” You said with a huff.

“I’m just saying that if the two of you stopped pussyfooting around-”

“Enough,” Mo’at said, entering the tent. Your stomach dropped as the T’sahik walked past, watching over the work you and Kiri had done. Kiri did not have the same fear of Mo’at as you did, you supposed that was granddaughter privilege. “And, I agree with my granddaughter, (y/n). You would make the perfect T’sahik to Neteyam’s Olo’eyktan.” Mo’at’s words made you blush. But also sweat. Sweat to the point you wanted to vomit to feel some kind of relief.

This family, you swear to Eywa, will be the death of you.

“Grandmother, I have a question regarding the ceremony-” Neteyam walked in, bow across his shoulders, full warrior dress had been donned. You think Neteyam smiled at you, though you’re not sure, you think he said hello to Kiri and Tuk and the other healers in the tent but you did not hear him.

You could not.

Not when he looked like that.

Neteyam’s hair had been redone, mirroring the photo of Jake you saw a few hours prior. Albeit a little longer than Jake’s had been, but the same style nonetheless. He looked beautiful, he looked just like Jake, but with the finesse of Neytiri’s finer features.

You were speechless.

That was not your Neteyam. What had he done with all of his gorgeous braids? One of your favourite things about Neteyam was how his braids swayed when he was angry, or how the beads clinked together when he was laughing. And, that they were Neteyam’s.

“Your hair…” You stuttered, embarrassed that anything had come out of your mouth at all. Especially in front of Mo’at.

Neteyam bit his lip nervously, one of his hands finding the back of his neck in anticipation.

“Do you like it?” Neteyam knew the blood was pooling in his cheeks, causing a lilac tint to run across his nose and ears.

“Oh, yes. Yes! I do like it, of course!” You said, falling all over your words. His evident blush making your blush more prominent. With all the people in the room, Neteyam had to fucking ask you with all these people in the room! What was he, insane? “But..but do you like it, Neteyam?” Now that you started, you could not stop, all the people in the room faded out of your mind. It was only you and Neteyam.

“I, uh think it is different and makes me look more like my father,” Neteyam replied, sheepishly. He did not like the hairstyle all that much, but Neteyam knew his fatal flaw was wanting to be as close to Jake as he could. You hummed in agreement, it did make him look like his father.

“I like it better when you look like you, Neteyam.” Your pale eyes caught his bold ones, and you hoped and prayed that he could understand everything you did not say. You broke the eye contact, feeling as if he would undress you with his stare. But with confidence, you pushed through and said:

“You are much more handsome than your father, Neteyam.”

The smile that threatened to split Neteyam’s face in half was worth the anxious butterflies that had erupted in your stomach. You came crashing back down from your adrenaline high, and you noticed Mo’at had cleared the room out. It was just the two of you.

“Thank you, my (y/n). That means a lot considering your flustered state earlier.” He teased you, and you let him. Poking your tongue out as Tuk taught you, as Neteyam made his way over to where you were sitting. He sat closer than what was friendly, but left a whisper of a space between you. Thighs almost touching. Your tail betrayed you, swaying back and forth anxiously.

“Can I tell you a secret, Neteyam?” You whispered as you tried to busy your hands with the mortar and pestle.

“I would want nothing more.” Neteyam whispered back, trying to catch your eye.

“I was so embarrassed earlier because I realised how much Jake looks like you. Or, I guess, how much you look like Jake.” You had the tendency to edit your stream of consciousness thoughts when you were nervous. Neteyam chuckled lightly, if it was not for his proximity you would have missed it. And, you decided in that moment, you never wanted to miss it. “I was embarrassed to finally be caught having those thoughts about you, Neteyam.”

Neteyam felt as if he had been stuck by lightning, all of his blood fried by it, and confidence laid in his veins, instead. “Ugh, fuck it.” Neteyam cursed. He turned quickly, picking you up with ease and setting you down on his lap, your thighs straddling him. Naturally your hands found the hair at the nape of his neck, your thumbs moving to rub circles, massaging his tense jaw. Neteyam rested his forehead on yours, eye to eye, nose to nose. You giggled and the sound inflated Neteyam like no other.

“Be my T’sahik. My grandmother is right.” Neteyam spoke softly, but it was deep, serious. No joke or trick to even be considered in the spaces between his words.

“I would want nothing more, my Olo’eyktan.” You sealed your promise with a searing kiss, you felt Neteyam’s whole body tense underneath you, as he tried to deepen it. You pulled away, desperate for air.

“Will you fix my hair?” He asked softly. Despite what the two of you had just done, the position you were in, he felt bashful. No one except his mother has ever touched his hair.

“Of course, my Neteyam.”

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wickjump · 2 months

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I’M SO GLAD THAT I’VE FOUND SOMEONE THAT ENJOYS CREPIC. THEREFORE YOU ARE GETTING A HC.

I’ve recently seen a trope somewhere that if partner A has noticeable scars, partner B will kiss them as a small romantic or comforting gesture. Ever since I’ve seen this trope I have not stopped thinking about crepic. IT FITS SO WELL???

Like, obviously Epic has the scar on his eye. His magic eye has caused him years of suffering and awful nightmares. It’s been nothing more to him than a burden. And the scar is just another reminder that he can never let go of everything that’s been done to him. But whatever, he’s gotten over it. But imagine Epic going over to Cross’ house for a sleepover, and late at night the two are just lying in Cross’ bed talking about something stupid, when their conversation suddenly turns more personal. This slowly leads to Epic opening up about how much of a struggle it is to live with his eye. Of course, he doesn’t go too much into detail, since he was never really one to speak about his personal life.

And Cross can’t help but feel so guilty for his poor best friend after listening to him talk about how much pain he had to endure for so long. Epic keeps insisting that he’s fine and that it’s not a big deal, but Cross wants to give the person he cares about so much the desperate comfort he needs. One way leads to another and Cross ends up leaning over and kissing the scar on Epic’s eye while gently cupping his face or something. (bonus points if Cross also kisses the scars on Epic’s hands). AND EPIC WOULD PROB BE HOLDING BACK TEARS THE ENITRE TIME BUT WOUDL EVENTUALLY CRAKC CUZ SOMEONE ACTUALLY FINDS BEAUTY IN HIS INSECURITIES AND UHHUHGH.

I’m so ashamed that this became a huge rant when it didn’t need to be 🙏🙏 (But seriously I’m so starved of crepic that it’s becoming torturous. I need to be fed more fanfics bc there’s only 30 on ao3. Nsfw or not I need to be fed.)

WEEPING CRYING YES!!!!!!!!!! epic is so ignored in crepic fics mostly because people don’t bother to read his au’s comic (it’s… a long one… so i get it lmfao), and i might be one of those people though not because a lack of adoration for his canon but because cross is my favorite idiot and epic is hard to write. BUT!!!!!! I LIKE THIS A LOT.

scar kissing can go one of two ways, very very good, or very very bad. personally if anyone tried to kiss my scars they’d get clocked, but it depends for the character (and person). some people think it’s cringe worthy, other people think it’s sweet. EYE SCARS HOWEVER? OH HO HO. THOSE NEED TO BE KISSED RIGJT FUCKIJG NOW… ABSOLUTELY YES. epic’s whole eye ordeal like ruined his life and made him damn near suicidal. i haven’t read the side comics in a little while for epic but iirc when he’s killed he thinks something along the lines of ‘isnt this what ive been waiting for?’ or something? could be wrong idk i haven’t read it in a few months. but either way that eye, and that scar as a reminder, really fucked him up. and epic’s the kind of guy to gloss over that entirely. but cross is an overthinker at his core so when he catches wind of this it’s going to be on his mind forever probably.

i love. i love the idea that cross just holds epic’s face and kisses his scars. holy shit i love that so much. dear god. he absolutely should get to do that. cross cares sososo much about epic but epic never tells him anything!!! so when cross gets a whiff of his internal turmoil he is gonna DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!!!! and epic is gonna FEEL EMOTIONS!!!!!!

I LOVE characters cupping someone’s face while kissing them while paying mind to their traumas and letting them know that you treasure them and and and combusts into a superbillion molecules

goddd this idea. /pos. AND YOURE SO REAL ABOUT THE FIC THING THEY SHOULD HAVE MORE FICS LIKE??? WHAT???!!!!! there’s barely any fics out there for them compared to so many other ships. every night i pray that i wake up and someone dropped a 200k+ word slow burn crepic ‘forbidden’ (because cross’ job and epic’s residence) romance best friends to lovers au fic. but those prayers always go unanswered. ive scoured the entire site for them, ive started going to WATTPAD, DAMNIT!!!!!!!!! bleh. i don’t even care about ratings or tags anymore as long as it’s consensual and legal im fine please give me more content with them 🙏

#crepic #Dudebruh #cross sans #epic sans #utmv #undertale #sanshipping #sanscest #sansshipping

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wrongcaitlyn · 4 months

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do you have any jegulus fic recs??

YES ABSOLUTELY

it's been a bit since i've read jegulus fics bc the solangelo hyperfixation has been so strong but i still have plenty bookmarked!! i'm just going to share my favs of my favs, but i have even more (21 total) bookmarked on my ao3 :)

(also, just gonna put this right here, that i 100% would rec crimson rivers, best friend's brother, and just lovers by bizarrestars, and art heist baby! by otrtbs but i feel like everyone in the jegulus fandom has already read those bc they're pretty much classics, so just know!! i love those fics!! but i'm gonna try and rec some other possibly less known fics here :))

ALSO ALSO - all of these authors have incredible other fics and i highly recommend you check out their entire dashboard!!! for literally every single author on this list. i'm subscribed to all of themjkdf

You Signed Up For This by Solmussa

James and Regulus have a summer fling that they promised their friends they wouldn’t have. Remus and Sirius discover their mutual hatred is just pent-up sexual tension. Dorcas and Marlene are always winning, even when they’re not. It’s a cruel summer for all. first of all i'm extremely attached to this fic bc it introduced me to maisie peters, which led to one of the best concert experiences of my life!! but other than that, this is just so beautifully written, so detailed, and an all-around incredible fic. everything by this author is incredible too!! it's got the perfect balance of angst vs fluff and just summer vibes, which is prob the perfect thing to read right now - anyway, DEF read if you haven't already!!

Mastermind by pieceofchocolate

Regulus Black is the mastermind behind the Liberal party. Unfortunately, he’s never been very good at the more outgoing parts of politics – on a more fortunate note, he has his brother to act as a front figure. Sirius Black has always been the sweetheart of British politics, charming the voters with his wit and charisma. That was until James Potter came around, becoming party leader of his own party, the Leftists. Sirius would probably hate him, if they weren't such good friends. Regulus does not share this problem. Remus Lupin literally just needed a job, and got thrown into the mess of secrets, games and an upcoming parliamentary crisis. With an election around the corner, things are bound to go awry. MCD WARNING but so worth it. like genuinely. it's a painful fic but there's also a good dose of fluff and i enjoyed every single second of reading despite it being politics and.. well, i'm from america so you can probably guess that it was very strange to actually be attached to these characters while they were politicians😭 this one's also so well written and - there are fics where you can just tell that the person cares so deeply about the topic they're writing about, and this is one of them!!! i love finding fanfics where authors are just incredibly passionate about the subject/au OH and it has a taylor swift title. so like. yk it's already gonna be good. (this is also actually one of my favorite songs ever so i was soo excited to read)

blue and yellow skies by alarainai

Quidditch Rivals turned Quidditch Lovers. That's what the world sees them as, at least. Too bad Regulus hates James Potter's guts, and James? Well, it doesn't matter what he feels about their definitely fake, definitely emotionless relationship. c'mon. there had to be one fame au on this list. and i KNOW that this one's sports, but it's so so so fucking good - and i'm gonna be honest, i've read so many of the band au's (there are quite a lot in this fandom, even i've written one) but for some reason i didn't have any of them bookmarked - which tbf, i'm very selective with what i bookmark lmfao but!!! this one is just SO good the plot, the social media aspect, the background wolfstar, just 10/10 fic!!

these violent delights (have violent ends) by damagecontrol

titanic au prepare for pain. MCD warning. but like, the pain is written so well, and it's so heartbreaking, and i literally remember staring at the ceiling after reading this (finishing at like 2 in the morning) and just not being able to think of anything but that ending, and like, you KNOW that you're going to be in pain bc it's a titanic au, but like, GOD it's so good. i genuinely don't even have the words i'm still depressed bc of it (but in a good way)

The Mystery of the Pears by sonwar

In the cave, Regulus doesn’t beg for it to stop. He begs not be left behind, alone. Perhaps this is why, when Kreacher gives one last look over his shoulder and sees terrible, pale hands reaching for his master, he appears in a flash at Regulus’ side, clutches him by the elbow, and Apparates them both out of the cave, directly disobeying his master’s last order. canonverse fic!! and such a lovely au. the romance between them is just so natural, and yet there's still the war going on - but really, it's just so well written, despite all the angst of the war, imo it's just such a feel-good fic. love this one so much.

Only the Brave by Solmussa

A fic about two idiots falling in love (x2 because there's wolfstar, too) during a war, and the sacrifices they'll have to make to survive it. andddd this one's the big one. this one's the one i choose to accept as canon. like. GUYS. THIS ONE'S SO FUCKING GOOD if you haven't already and you're a jegulus fan, you just HAVE to read it like genuinely. the plot is so well-thought out, all of the interludes give these other characters their own stories too, and the angst!!! but also the badassery!!! i can't even explain it but if you want a canonverse war au where jegulus survives and they all win, then, like, this is the one. it's so perfect. prob my fav jegulus fic of all time.

and those r my recs!! hope that you enjoy them, and i have several others in my bookmarks!! i've also written some if you haven't checked those out, but!! happy reading :) thank you for the ask!

#wrongcaitlyn #wrongcaitlyn asks #jegulus #marauders #regulus black #james potter #ao3

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ena-113 · 3 months

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hear me out. combine Angel au with Tim Twins au.

...and the reason the bats never meet angel in person is cause he has some mobility issues.

like maybe he uses a wheelchair and/or needs braces or a cane or smth. or maybe it's like some disease that makes him unable to do strenuous activities, like pots.

idk man, it's 1 am, i brain barf first, research later.

but then they(bats + Jackson) get themselves in trouble and watch whichever-evil-bitch-is-responsable get intimidated by some kid that can't even stand properly.

like, it's joker vs Some Guy, and joker is NOT Winning. (prob not gonna go as far as joker tho)

and then Jackson is all 'this is Angel ^-^'

angel: hi. ...bye

jackson: isn't he neat? the skrungly.

and half the batfam is like 'wait they're the same age??? and probably twins??? Angel isn't some weird father figure???'

the other half of batfam: no wait, it makes sense now. i can see the whole "raised eachother" thing better having seen that. the voice changer was prob just fucking with us.

... haven't read the fic in a while so uhh mc'scuse me for inaccuracies.

#i think the fic name was 1-800-gotham #yea sounds abt right #batman #tim drake #disability representation #i hope #and maybe #autism representation #in both of em #cause i kinda smelled it in him with the communication ussues that r similar to my sister

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azsazz · 3 months

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SJM Ask Game

Thank you for the tag @daydreaming-nerd !! 💙💙 (I do want to hear those redacted answers for where you put tharion lol) I feel like it's been so long since I've been on tumblr or even done one of these but I'm excited💙

1) What’s your favourite SJM book?

Hmmmm I'm gonna say ACOMAF because that's when I was first introduced to Azzy and the obsession began 💙😈

2) Which is your favourite series (tog, acotar or cc)

If you don't know me, CC is one of the worst books I've ever read. It's hard to choose between ACOTAR and TOG tho because they were both really good....

3) Who is your favourite character? (And why?)

Hehehehehehehehe. Az obviously 🥰

4) Do you have a favourite quote from one of the books?

Hmmmm...tbh not really...the ones that stay stuck in my head are the cringey ones...BUT, let's go with "Cassian shot him a glare. 'I don't see you spouting poetry, brother.' Azriel crossed his arms, still smiling faintly, 'I don't need to resort to it.'" THAT'S GODDAMN RIGHT BBY YOU DONT 💙💙 legs spread for mah boi

5) Favourite ship?

Azris frfr

6) Elriel or Gwynriel? Or neither?

Azris frfr

7) Who’s the most underrated SJM character?

Oooof there's so many. Fenrys. I've never gotten enough of him.

8) Which character do you wish to learn more about?

Azris frfr. I want both of their backstories rn

9) Are there any characters you don’t like?

Bryce Quinlan and Danika Fendyr

10) Favourite bat boy?

My king azriel 💙💙

11) Favourite court?/ Which one would you most like to live in?

Honestly I'd probably either live in Autumn or Night tbh.

12) Favourite SJM villain?

Does Tamlin count? lol.

13) If you could change one thing in any of the books what would it be?

That CC never happened

14) Favourite SJM theory?

Azris frfr

15) Favourite Archeron sister?

Prob Ness

16) A character you feel is over-hated/ underrated:

over-rated: bryce quinlan

under-rated: chaol 💙

17) Aelin, Bryce, or Feyre?

Aelin!!

18) What’s your favourite character from each series?

Fenrys, Azriel, Ruhn

19) If you wrote an acotar book what would you call it?

A Court of Smoke and Cinders? (azris frfr)

20) Who is your favourite acotar blogger?

nah there's literally too many to choose from

21)What fics would you recommend to people who love the series?

The Serpent and the Wings of Night

Questions for writers

22) Easiest character to write for?

Azzy because i built him brick by brick

23) Hardest character to write for?

LUCIEN. IDK WHY

24) What’s a character you’d like to write for but haven’t yet?

lol who haven't i written for? hmmmm...maybe fenrys, aedion, or hunt?

25) What’s a court you’d like to write about more?

Dawn!

26) What’s a character you won’t write for and why?

hmmm...idk I'd like to say that I'd try anything once...

27) If you could only write for one character ever again, who would you pick?

azzy. nobody compares to him

28) Whats your favourite trope to write about when it comes to Azriel?

right now i think modern aus...in any sort. or anything that involves angst i love putting everyone thru some shit

29) What do you think is the best/favourite acotar fic you’ve written?

hmmmm...i feel like this is impossible to choose

30) Who are your favourite friendships to write about?

eris x anyone because this man needs a friend

31) For first time readers to your blog, which three fics would you recommend they read?

LMAO ummm...I'll list at least one for. every character

Az: Cupid's Chokehold or Midnight Muse

Cass: In Storm or Dial Drunk or Better Men Have Hit Their Knees and Bigger Men Have Died

Eris: You Know I Always Liked Playing with Fire or Hide

Rhys: Clandestine Love or Dioxazine

Lucien: The Other Woman or My Happy Ending

or literally any poly can't go wrong with those tbh

No pressure tags: @writingsbychlo @acourtofwhatthefuck @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @azrielhours @a-frog-with-a-laptop or anyone else who wants to participate!

#ask azsazz

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purplepixel · 2 months

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Sendin' one back at ya! (for some reason can't asks send from my normal blog?? Shakes fist at Tumblr)

Don't think you've answered it yet (?) but would love to hear you're thoughts on 28 for the tmnt ask! - Crow

Ohai crow! :] Ready for my extremely passionate long winded answer that's been in my mind for months now? Gonna respond with rise cuz that's all I read

28) What is one thing you'd like to see explored more in TMNT Art/Fics

CASEY JONES AND HER DYNAMIC WITH THE TURTLES

What is her relationship with each of the turtles, splinter, and April post seasons 2? Where is she in the aftermath of the movie? How did she redeem herself and earn the turtle's/april's trust? How does she feel escaping a cult? What is it like to experience FAMILY. DID SPLINTER ADOPT ANOTHER DAUGHTER?

I could go on. She is prob rises most underrated character, mainly bc she gets over shadowed by junior. Which is sad bc SHES GOT SUCH GREAT POTENTIAL FOR STORIES.

I am gonna call out fandom sexism here. With my full chest I fully believe that if she were a man, we as a fandom would have more works of her. Especially bc imo Junior is less of his own character outside being a fish out of water and his trauma of the apocalypse, yet he's got TONS of fan works. He's the bucky of rise if you will. Whereas with Casey, she is passionate, chaotic, loud, will choose FIGHT every time, overly eager, wants to prove herself etc etc. She is rise's version of Casey Jones to a T.

And yet for being a prominent character in the main series, I NEVER see her in fics. She is relegated to "extra character we needed cuz we're sending in the calvary" bg character with like one or two lines. The only time I see Casey focused stories is when she's attached to a ship pairing. Which isn't bad or anything, I just didn't bother to read those cuz I want THE FAMILY FOCUS.

I would love to see the classic Casey and raph dynamic more. We got a little in the show when they were enemies, but I want to see their friendship form. Enemies to friends. It literally writes itself. And Casey and Donnie would be SO CHAOTIC. Take the two most dramatic characters, put them in a room together, and watch the shenanigans occur. Eyse's fic is the only one I've seen do something crazy with them and it's THE BEST. A spar between Donnie and Casey where he ends up enlisting the wood animals to assist him and Casey is just having the time of her life getting to go all out fighting someone? Eats that scene

So ya. Casey and the turtles. I need more of them. If anyone has ANY good fics with Casey in them, let me know. Cuz I just have two so far. (I'm promised a third as of today but I haven't read ch 25 of Spiders web with strings attached yet)

Thank you for reading this long answer haha

#thnx for the ask crow!!!#i think about this so much #and i know i can do better myself #ive only drawn casey like once #but alas i have a pretty big backlog #i daydream about a potential fic/comic that focuses on between the show and movie #that would satisfy all of my casey and hamato clan needs #as we tragically watch raph and leo grow more distant #maybe one day ill get around to actually making it #but if anyone else wants to than be my guest #casey jones #pixel replies #tmnt ask game

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 months

Text

Hero

found u on AO3 and loved u immediately, your writing style is incredible and i’ve binged all your stories :) crack request popped into my mind the other day and i thought i’d share—> the pinocchio phenomenon about “my nose will grow” (i’m sure you’re familiar) except for its the sides (prob logan bc experiment) trying it on janus- “janus will be summoned” or something to that effect idk ily please never stop writing <3 – bumblebea2712

Okay, so I've been thinking about something for a while. In your fic, Silver Box, where Roman has that box labeled 'Ego' with all the positive reinforcement in it? What if one of the things that gets whispered from it is when c!Thomas told Roman "you're my hero"? Like, especially with the angst from POF/SvS Redux. Thinking about how Roman misinterpret Janus' nod as 'Thomas is lying' when he actually meant that Thomas was still the truth when calling Roman his hero again. I wanna see Janus trying to correct him and be like "that nod meant he was telling the truth, he still thinks of you as his hero, he still cares about you", etc. Just some Roman, Janus, and c!Thomas angst all bundled up with hurt/comfort. I have THOUGHTS, and so I wanted to share :3 – oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

If you're up to requests rn, could we have a Sanders Sides fic where Thomas himself is actually present maybe? – anon

Hey, would you be interested in perhaps writing a story where Logan assumes Roman is stupid because he isn’t articulate, and one day Roman has enough and is trying so hard to explain to Logan why he’s wrong but he doesn’t know the right way to phrase things so he just ends up getting more and more upset while Logan isn’t listening? – anon

Hey! I love your work (I’m definitely a Roman angst enjoyer 😅, but all of it’s good!!). If you’re open to requests, I was thinking about the control that Patton has over Roman because like,, a prince fights for honor. For good. And who decides what those concepts mean? Patton does. In some way, he controls Roman’s narrative. Anyways, h/c with Roman and potentially protective Remus. Thank you for considering!! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self esteem issues, self doubt, slightly unsympathetic logan and patton

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5984

"What honor is there that I can find now? What—how do I know what is right anymore? I've been behind a sword for so long, I fear…I fear I'm forgetting who I am without it." His breath comes out shakier. "And I fear…if I were to ever try to explain this to someone who wasn't you, my words would come out so clumsy they would impale me on their rusted edges." "There is nothing wrong with the way you speak, Roman. Nothing at all." "If only it were something that would be listened to."

Thomas sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Okay, I think—is that all we're gonna be able to get done today?"

"I have no qualms about continuing, but I do not think it would be productive."

"I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you go around in circles again and again," Virgil groans, long ago giving up the pretense of standing and paying attention, his forehead pressed against the stairs railing, "just call it here and let us go."

"Now, kiddo, that's not a very sporting attitude!" Patton puts his hands on his hips. "If Thomas thinks we're all involved in this discussion, then there's no point if trying to discount your own importance."

"I'm not discounting my own importance, I'm questioning my relevance." He glares through a gap in the bars at Logan. "This whole thing isn't gonna make me think it's not worth being cautious about, no matter how much L tries to talk me out of it. I'm Anxiety. Literally it's my job to be irrational sometimes. By definition—"

"But we've previously established that you do have some semblance of logical reasoning at points, and this could very well be one of those points—"

"Okay." Thomas cuts Logan off with a wave of his hand. "I think—yeah, I think we're done. I'm sorry, Logan, but I don't—we're kind of at an impasse."

"Here's an idea." Virgil's hand flops lazily up in a parody of raising his hand. "Why don't we ask someone whose literal job it is to come up with ideas?"

Logan's nose wrinkles momentarily and he sighs. "I do not see the value in asking either Roman or Remus to weigh in on this discussion when it has nothing to do with them."

"Uh-huh, so you wanna try to do the create-an-idea thing without the Sides whose job it is to do that?"

"We are all capable of coming up with ideas, Virgil, Roman and Remus simply represent Thomas's Creativity."

"Oh, yeah?" Virgil heaves himself up onto an elbow. "When's the last time you came up with an idea for an experiment on your own?"

"Preposterous. I'm perfectly capable of coming up with my own experiments."

"Do it. Right now."

"We are in the middle of discussing—"

"No, no," Thomas says, "please, I could use a break from thinking about this."

Logan's mouth works for a second. "Very well. Let's see…ah. A spin on the Pinocchio paradox."

"The what?"

"The Pinocchio paradox. A simple thought experiment on what would happen if the character, Pinocchio, uttered the words: 'My nose will grow now.' An interesting thought, given that—"

"That his nose grows when he lies and if it does grow then he told the truth which means it wouldn't grow which means he lies, sure, sure, sure, what does that have to do with anything?"

Logan adjusts his ties and raises a finger. "Janus will now appear."

Everyone in the room pauses, listening for the telltale whoosh of a Side appearing. Which it does, a few seconds later, and Logan gets cuffed on the shoulder.

"What was that for?"

"I'm not an experiment," Janus says, a bit too amused to be an indictment, "and am perfectly capable of showing up to slap you for being an idiot."

"See? Experiment successful."

"That's not—okay." Thomas pinches the bridge of his nose. "Janus, while you're here, you might as well weigh in on this."

'"Being arbitrarily asked to choose a side with little to no context as to what the options are? My favorite." He claps his hands a few times. "What am I choosing between?"

"Would it be better if I responded to this email now, saying that I'm not available for a call for the rest of the day, or should I wait and just call back tomorrow when I am free?"

"Ooh, what an interesting dilemma. How badly will your life be impacted by a negative outcome to this call?"

"Don't fucking start with me, J," Virgil warns, studiously ignoring Patton's language, "I know you've been listening this whole time."

"Oh, you're no fun." Virgil tips him a lazy two-fingered salute and he sighs. "Very well. Thomas, do you want to respond to this now?"

Thomas frowns. "What? Isn't that what you all are here for?"

"We can manifest different parts of you trying to figure something out, but that doesn't mean you don't have your own thoughts about it that aren't us. What do you want to do?"

"This line of questioning is pointless. Thomas has established that he doesn't know what he wants and he's asked us—well, I suppose that now includes you—what to do."

Janus slides his gaze to Logan, eyes narrowing slightly. "That's awfully presumptuous of you, Logan."

"Thomas? Is that an inaccurate conclusion?"

"…I mean, not really."

Logan gestures at him. "See? There you are. Now, either we are agreeing to call the meeting here and simply wait until tomorrow, or we are going to rehash the same arguments from the past hour and quite frankly, I think there is a better use of our time."

"Why are the twins not here?"

"Excuse me?"

"The twins. The ones who are good at coming up with solutions to problems." Janus glances around. "They seem conspicuously absent from this meeting where we are trying to come up with a solution to something."

"That's what I was saying."

Logan sighs, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Alright, if you insist. I do not see what sort of valuable insight they will be able to give us, but if you all want to hear what they have to say, then I suppose I cannot object."

Thomas smiles and reaches out to summon Creativity. A moment later, Roman appears in front of the TV, wincing.

"Thomas?"

"Hey, Roman, we, uh, we were hoping you could help us out."

Roman rubs the back of his neck, glancing around the room. "Uh, sure. What, uh, what with?"

"Thomas is struggling to choose between responding to a missed phone call and voicemail with either an email today apologizing and explaining his availability tomorrow, or simply calling back tomorrow when he is immediately available," Logan says smoothly. "Which option do you think is preferable?"

Roman just blinks at him for a long second. When Logan raises his eyebrows expectantly, his shoulders hunch a little and he curls in on himself. "I, um, I don't know."

"Just as I suspected. Very well, thank you Roman, you may go."

"Wait, what?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Virgil says, sitting up, "that's not fair, he's been here, what, all of two seconds?"

"Yes, and has just admitted that he doesn't have an answer to us, which is not a productive way to continue this conversation, therefore he can go."

"Wait, Logan—" Thomas holds his hand out, silently asking Roman to stay, "can't we just—how's he gonna be able to actually give his opinion if he doesn't have time to make one?"

"Roman, are the facts I've given to you unclear?"

"Huh? N-no—"

"Do you believe you have a firm enough grasp of the situation to form a conclusion?"

"I mean, yeah, I get it, but—"

"And you still don't know what option you prefer?"

Roman's quiet for a moment, his outstretched hand slowly returning to his side. "…no."

Logan nods. "Settled, then."

"Come on, Logan," Janus says, frowning a little now, "just because you didn't want him here doesn't mean you can throw him away as soon as he's said one thing that vaguely aligns with what you wanted."

"First off, that's an incredible level of irony coming from you—" both Janus and Roman flinch— "and secondly, Roman, would you like to be part of this meeting?"

They all turn to look at Roman, who shuffles under their gazes. He keeps flicking his eyes up to Thomas, then to Patton, then to Janus, before staring back down at his hands. The buzzing of the fridge becomes oppressive. He winces and rubs the back of his neck again.

"Roman?"

"…not really."

"Then it's settled, then. Thank you for your input."

Roman glances once more at Thomas with something almost like longing before he sinks out again. Virgil, who'd been watching him closely, turns to frown at Logan. Logan adjusts his tie.

"If that's all, then, Thomas, would you still like to end the meeting here?"

"Yeah, let's…let's call it."

"Very well. I shall be available if you need me further." He sinks out.

Patton sinks out next, giving Thomas a quick thumbs-up before disappearing. Janus exchanges a brief look with Virgil before he's vanishing too, leaving just the two of them alone in the living room. Thomas puts his hands on his hips, staring at the spot where Roman was.

"So that was weird, right?"

"Yeah." Virgil grunts as he sits up, hands balled up in the pocket of his hoodie. "That…I've never seen them…do that before."

"Did Roman and Logan have a fight or something?"

"I don't think so? I mean, I've seen them argue about stuff, but they always do that and it didn't seem like it was any more, like, intense than usual, so I don't…I don't know why that happened." He shuffles. "I've also never seen Logan be that…short with Roman before."

"Yeah, like, he was here for literally, like—"

"Like two seconds—"

"And then Logan was telling him to go again. And did you notice how he kept looking—"

"At you?"

"At me, yeah, did—did I do something?"

"What? Shit, no, Thomas, I don't think that's it. I think—" he sighs— "look, he's not gonna be happy I'm telling you this, but Princey's been going through some stuff lately and I'm not sure exactly what it is but I know it's been weighing on him a lot."

Thomas frowns. "How so?"

"Well, let me put it this way: have you been daydreaming a lot more lately?"

He thinks. "Uh, yeah, I mean, I guess so, but I haven't been doing that much recently, which kind of makes sense, I guess?"

"Yeah, well, that's Princey in the Imagination." Thomas nods and Virgil gives him a pointed look. "I'm telling you that Princey's been going into the Imagination more."

"Yeah, that's—isn't that what he does?"

Virgil scrubs a hand over his face. "Yeah, it is, but not like this. Normally when he goes in, he's doing it to come up with ideas or work something out, or…something. But recently…"

"But recently that doesn't feel like what he's doing," Thomas finishes, chewing on his lip, "yeah, actually, now that you mention it, it does kind of feel…different. Like—like they're…"

"Comfort," Virgil finishes quietly when he can't quite put his finger on it, "it feels like a comfort."

"Roman's going into the Imagination to comfort himself?" Virgil shrugs. "Why?"

"Like I said, he's going through some stuff. It's not—I'm not all up on how the Imagination translates to whatever your daydreams end up being, but I don't think—Princey's not even telling us what he gets up to in there."

Thomas sucks in a breath. If there's one thing he's learned after listening to them talk about whatever goes on in the Mindscape when they're not with him, it's that Roman loves to regale them with tales of his adventures in the Imagination, even if it comes at the expense of whatever else they're doing. To hear that Roman's been going off more than usual and he isn't telling them about it? Worrying, to say the least.

"When did this start?"

Virgil blows out a breath. "After the wedding."

"Shit, that's…probably not good."

"Yeah."

They both stare at the black TV. A bit of dust gets caught in a gust from the vent and sticks to the corner.

"…he's my hero," Thomas says quietly.

"Huh?"

"He's my hero. Maybe he's…maybe he's going to the Imagination to do the things heroes don't get to do."

"Okay, you gotta break that down for me a little more."

"The heroes don't get to be vulnerable. They don't get to…to actually stop and rest, not really. They have to keep going, they have to…" Thomas swallows. When did this lump in his throat get here? "They're not—oh, god, am I gonna cry?"

"Shit, shit, shit, uh—do you want me to get Patton back?"

"N-no, no, don't—" for some reason the thought of Patton reappearing sends a bolt of fear straight through his chest and he knows Virgil feels it too, shooting to his feet and watching as Thomas stumbles back to the couch— "I—oh, god."

"Hey, hey, hey, buddy," Virgil says, voice soft and low as Thomas buries his face in his hands, "take it easy, okay? You're okay, you're safe in the house, everything's okay. I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Just a nice, deep breath, you're okay, that's it, good, now let it out…nice, do it again…"

Virgil helps talk him slowly through the well of emotion suddenly bubbling just at the base of his throat, the breaths coming out shaky but steady. Absentmindedly, he puts a hand to his chest and starts rubbing in slow, firm circles. The pressure does something to the frantic and flighty part of him, helping to soothe him back from whatever brink he hadn't realized he'd walked to.

"Hey," Virgil calls a few minutes later, "you with me again?"

"Yeah, I think so." He takes a couple more seconds just to breathe it out. "Roman's—Roman's my hero, and I don't know if he knows that I…that I still want to listen to him."

"What do you mean?"

"Afterwards. When I—when we were all—when the stuff happened. He said that he thought he was my hero and I told him he was and then he…"

"Freaked," Virgil finishes when he can't, "yeah, I remember."

"I don't…I don't know why that made him so upset."

"Well, hey," he says when that lump starts to come back to his throat, "let's not have you worry about that right now, okay? You—let's go do something else that'll get your mind off of it. Go rewatch the Office bloopers again, that always works."

"Will you—can you keep an eye on him for me?"

"Yeah, Thomas, I can do that. Now c'mon, those bloopers aren't going to rewatch themselves."

***

Roman walks slowly through the woods as the fireflies twinkle around him. He lifts a hand to push aside a branch, stepping through the shadows to emerge onto the thin dirt path that winds through the base of the trees. As the darkness falls, the thin blue lines grow deeper, darker, blending together to weave across the grass as little critters scurry back and forth. The whistle of the wind accompanies the crunch of his footsteps as he makes his way toward the cabin.

Movement from around the side and the man emerges, wiping dirt from his hands with a rag. He looks up and smiles as Roman approaches.

"Roman," he greets, with his voice warm, "how good it is to see you."

"I see I'm a bit too late to help with the chores." He nods to the rag. "I don't mean to impose on you."

"Nonsense, old friend, nothing you do could possibly be an imposition. As it happens, I have a stew on that I won't be able to finish by myself and it would be a great favor to me if you were to help me."

Roman chuckles. "How could I refuse?"

The man holds a hand out to him as he nears, settling it on the curve of Roman's neck and pulling him close for a brief hug of sorts. Roman turns his cheek to rest against the curve of his jaw, breathing out shakily. The man lets out a comforting noise and his fingers card through the delicate hairs at the base of his head.

"Come inside, dear friend, let the fire warm you."

"The night is warm already."

"It is young still, and will grow cold," he says as he begins to lead them up the stairs, "and you look to be the type of cold that does not thaw even in the hottest sun."

"I worry for the state of the realm sometimes, if I am truly so transparent."

"Only to me, dear friend, and only because you have seen fit to allow yourself to be so with me." He's coaxed inside a modest cabin, sat at a simple hewn table as a rich smell fills the room. He closes his eyes to breathe it in, opening them again when the low thud of a bowl and tankard draws his attention. "Eat, please. You know I can't bear a less-than-full stomach under my roof."

"You're too kind to me."

"Nonsense." The hand fits itself around his head once more. "You are worth being kind to, and even more worth allowing me to care for you. Now, come on."

The stew is simple, hearty, and as filling as he could ever want. Under the table, their legs press together, boots against boots, knee against knee. The fire crackles in the hearth as the last of the light fades from outside. He can feel his shoulders beginning to relax, the line of his body growing looser, more languid.

When they've both eaten their fill and the dishes have been set away to deal with later, he sits on the floor near the hearth and stares into the flames. A warm hand lands on his shoulder and brings his head to rest against another, light touch trailing over the bare skin under his sleeve.

"What troubles you tonight, dear friend?"

"I don't want to impose—"

"Shh, none of that now. It's an honor to be troubled by your worries."

He turns his head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of clean sweat, of spiced apple, of wood smoke. "I struggle to remember what it is I fight for."

Gentle nails along his scalp. "How so?"

"There is nothing wrong with the way you speak, Roman. Nothing at all."

"If only it were something that would be listened to."

"Hey." He's nudged until he can look up at the man's face. "You once told me that all you wanted to fight for was this. For the chance for one to sit, in the peace and safety, with those they care for, and have that be alright. Is this still true?"

"Yes. But I don't—I no longer know how to do that."

The man goes quiet, contemplative, running his fingers gently over the edge of Roman's face. The touch coaxes a lump to his throat, a tear to his eye, and the man lets out another comforting noise, pulling him closer.

"Rest for the night, please, dear friend. My bed is warm, my touch willing. You fear losing who you are without your sword? Put it down for the night, stay. Remind yourself of how to enjoy the thing you fight for."

"If only I could be as persuasive as you," he mumbles, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of the touch, "then I might never need a sword again."

He chuckles. "Well, I don't know if I can do all that much, but I have learned how to persuade you, my dear, and that will serve me well enough."

***

"Roman?"

Roman turns, spotting Janus as he trudges back from the Imagination. "What're you doing awake?"

"I was waiting for you."

He winces. "Sorry, I, um, did we have something planned?"

"What? No, no, sweetie, nothing like that, I only—I wanted to talk to you for a moment."

A chill works its way up Roman's spine and he suppresses a shudder, walking slowly to his room and opening the door. Janus follows him in, carefully closing it behind them and waiting while Roman tucks something into a drawer on his desk and sitting down.

"What's up?"

"Are you…are you okay?"

He flinches slightly. "Why, um, why?"

Janus looks pained. He glances around and seemingly comes to a decision before sinking down to the floor, crossing his legs and sighing. "You…seemed very upset after earlier, and I wanted to come and ask you about it."

"Oh, no, I'm fine, I wasn't—Logan was right, I wasn't going to be useful in that conversation."

"The one you were in for all of three seconds before you were being shunted out of it again?"

Roman narrows his eyes. "You know, it is kind of ironic that you of all people are worrying about that right now."

Janus barely has time to process how he feels about that sentence before Roman's eyes are widening and he's leaning back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, that came out really rude, I didn't mean that."

"You did, and that's okay. No, no—really, it is okay, Roman, you don't have to pretend like I didn't hurt you—that I'm not hurting you when I do things like that. No, no—" he stands as Roman covers his face with his hands— "please, sweetie, just—just listen to me for a second, okay?"

Roman nods, his face still hidden. Janus hesitates for a moment before gloved hands come down to rest on his shoulders. He leans down and carefully, carefully presses his chin to the top of Roman's head. Roman shudders a little under the contact but stays still.

"You've been distant lately," Janus whispers, as though afraid of breaking the silence, "and that's not a bad thing, sweetie, but it's…it seems like it's hurting you. And I'm worried because Thomas isn't—I don't know what Thomas would do without you."

Roman stiffens and immediately he knows it was the wrong thing to say. "I won't let Thomas down again, I know what I'm doing. I'm just—I'm sorry I haven't been very present lately, but I'm—"

"No, no, that's not what I meant—wait, what do you mean, 'again?'"

Roman hunches his shoulders. "I know I'm not Thomas's hero anymore, okay? You don't need to keep acting like I'm—"

"Wait, wait, sweetie." Janus crouches down, cupping Roman's face in his hands. "What do you mean, you're not Thomas's hero anymore?"

"That's what you said! After the wedding, when he said—when I said—and you nodded! Like it was a lie!" He jerks away. "We don't need to pretend that didn't happen, okay? I remember, it's not like I could forget something like that."

"No, no, Roman—no, that's not what I meant, I didn't—it wasn't a lie."

Roman goes still. He stares at Janus for a long moment, long enough for a bit of a smile to come to his face, like Roman's actually listening to him. Then Roman's expression darkens and the voice that comes out of him is darker and more venomous than anything Janus has ever heard.

"Do not lie to me."

"R-Roman—"

"No." Roman pulls away, standing up, towering over him. "You will not lie to me. Not about that, not about anything like that. Use me as your puppet all you want, everyone knows I can't stop you, but I won't let you lie to me about this. Ever."

He's already fumbling to get his gloves off, surging up and grabbing Roman in a tight hug, so close he couldn't hope to get an inch of distance between them. "I'm not lying," he hisses, almost into Roman's nose, "I'm not lying about this, Roman, I'm not. Thomas wasn't lying. You're his hero. You still are."

"Stop it—"

"My gloves are off! I can't lie with my gloves off, Thomas loves you—you're his hero—"

"Stop it!" The words leave Roman in a breathless cry and Janus is left struggling to heft his weight as his knees buckle. "Stop it, stop it—stop it, it's not true, it can't be true, it's a lie—it—it has to be—"

"Why does it have to be, sweetie?" They're back on the floor, Janus smoothing hair back from Roman's flushed face, awkwardly holding him in his lap. "Why did it have to be a lie?"

"Because—because—" he sniffles— "nothing makes sense anymore. I don't—I can't—I can't do anything."

He frowns. "What do you mean you can't do anything?"

Hands come up to circle his wrists, not to push him away, just to have somewhere else to hold onto. "Princes fight for honor, for what's good. I can't—I can't fight anymore."

Not much can break Janus's heart like hearing Roman admit something like that, fewer things still can threaten tears at the corners of his eyes like the ones badly concealed in Roman's voice. "What do you mean, sweetie? Why can't you fight anymore?"

"I don't know anything! I don't know what's good, what's honorable, what's—what's right, I can't…I'm wrong, Janus, I'm just wrong and I don't—I don't know how to be right again."

"Shh, shh, shh, easy, now, sweetie, shh…" Janus hauls him closer, pressing his mouth to his flushed cheek, still murmuring comfort. "Shh…that's it, just stay here with me a moment, okay?"

"J-Janus—"

"I'm here, sweetie, I'm right here."

Roman's stifled sobs land like mines in the room, creating a mess around them as he curls up tighter, tighter still. The door to the Imagination glistens softly and he can almost hear the distant crackle of a fireplace and that alone sends him further into the fit. Janus's hands remain gentle, holding him close, but everything keeps spinning and nothing, nothing makes sense except the hurt in his chest.

He's going to cry himself to sleep again, he realizes faintly as exhaustion starts to seep through him, but then Janus is kissing his forehead again and gently shaking him awake.

"Sweetie, listen to me: no one knows what you fight for better than you, okay? You're Thomas's Hopes and Dreams, his hero—" Roman whimpers— "you do know what's right."

"N-no, I don't."

"Then who does know?"

"Patton."

Janus's blood runs cold. "Patton? Why Patton?"

"Patton's the Heart, he's M—he's Morality. He knows—he decides. I'm—I just follow." He sniffles. "And Logan—Logan, he's right, I don't—I'm so stupid—"

"That's enough, now." He runs a hand through his hair again. "That's enough, sweetie. You're not stupid. No—shh, shh, you're not. You know you're not."

"I am. I can't—I can't talk right and I don't know what I'm doing and—an' I'm just gonna mess everything up again."

Janus closes his eyes, bowing his head and taking a deep breath of his own. Cradling Roman's head to his chest, he leans down and kisses both his forehead and his cheeks, just staying there for a long, long moment. Roman's soft sobs echo gently in his ear and he tucks a stray piece of hair back from his face.

"You're not stupid," he murmurs, "you're not going to mess everything up again. You're okay. You're okay, sweetie."

Roman sniffles and shakes his head. "No, it's not. It's not okay."

"…no," Janus concedes, pulling Roman close, "I suppose it's not."

***

Not many things can happen in the Mindscape without Remus noticing, and almost nothing can happen to his brother without him showing up to knock some heads.

Case in point: when there's a tug in his gut telling him that Roman is upset, he grabs his Morningstar and sinks out without hesitating.

When he rises up in the living room, it takes less than two seconds for him to determine one: that Logan is picking on his brother, two: Patton isn't doing anything to stop him, and three: Roman is crying.

"Remus, not now," Logan sighs, "we're in the middle of something."

"You're in the middle of hurting my brother."

"R-Re?" He's got his arm around Roman's shoulders in the next moment. "W-wait, I need to—I have to—I gotta explain."

"Explain what, Roro?"

Logan sighs. "Roman has been trying, unsuccessfully, to explain that we are at fault for—"

"Ah, no." Remus throws a knife at Logan. "I didn't ask you. Shush."

"Remus! Throwing knives at people isn't nice!"

"Neither is making them cry! We're all in agreement." He tucks his head against Roman's, gentling his voice. "What're you trying to explain, Roro?"

"The—" he sniffles— "Janus said I should try—try talking to them and I said it wouldn't work but he—he insisted an' I—"

"Shh, shh, take your time, Ro, you're doing great."

"Heart. Morality. Prince. Logic."

Remus's little black heart breaks in two and he wraps his arms tightly around his brother. "Oh, Ro, it's okay. It's gonna be okay, lemme get you somewhere safe and I'll do it for you, okay?"

"You don't have to—"

"Trust me, Ro-bro, I got this."

Roman sags in his arms. "O-okay."

Remus quickly bids the Imagination to open its doors and sinks Roman out, giving him a gentle push into the forest before reappearing in the living room. He cracks his knuckles and grins.

"Alright, where were we?"

Logan sighs. "Remus, I don't—"

"Ah, that's right!" Remus throws another knife at him. "You, not listening to people who can't articulate things as well as you can! Rude and ableist, Loganberry, not a good look on you."

"I am not—"

"Roman can't articulate his thoughts as well as you can and so you think you're better than him, smarter than him, and that he's not worth listening to, is that explicit enough?" Logan opens and closes his mouth a few times but doesn't say anything. "Mm. And you!"

Patton yelps as Remus throws something at him too.

"You have a nasty habit of making Roman feel like a helpless little kid! You have a lot of sway over things like Thomas's sense of right and wrong and when you don't talk to Roman like he's your equal, you really fuck him up!"

"Language—"

"Don't fucking talk to me about my language," Remus says with artificial cheeriness, "talk to yourself about how not to give my brother an identity crisis!"

He stops throwing things, mainly because the rest of them are exploding or things he knows Roman would rather he didn't throw at them, no matter how tempting it is. The two of them slowly get their shit together, each with a different amount of regret. He doesn't really care about that, though, so long as they're not going to hurt Roman like that again.

"Good chat!"

And he sinks out to tackle Roman into Ollie's pond so they can have fun playing and not crying.

God, he loves his brother.

***

"Hey, Thomas?"

Thomas looks up and sees Virgil on the stairs. "Oh, hey, Virge, what's up?"

"You, uh, you asked me to keep an eye on Princey."

He sits up straight. "Yeah, what's—what's going on?"

Virgil sighs, rubbing his hands together. "There was a…not a fight, but some stuff happened. Turns out that Roman, uh, didn't believe you when you said you still thought of him as your hero and it…got bad."

"Do I want to know how bad?"

"Like, bad enough that Roman wasn't—shit, Thomas, no, I don't think you wanna know. Let's just say it was bad enough that he wasn't just going to the Imagination for comfort, he was going there because it was the only place he felt safe."

"Oh, Roman…"

"The fight—the thing was about Roman trying to explain to Patton and Logan how it fucked him up really badly, and he wasn't—you know how Roman's not always the best at explaining himself?"

"Yeah?"

"It—it wasn't really going well. Remus had to step in and do it for him."

"Wait, Remus?"

"Yeah, they're brothers. Remus—shit, Remus is really protective of Roman sometimes and this time wasn't an exception. Everyone's fine now, but it's…" Virgil sighs. "Logan and Patton have apologized and everybody's working on it, but I thought you'd want to know."

"How much stuff happens with you guys that I don't know about?"

"Honestly? I don't think you want the answer to that either."

"Jesus." Thomas scrubs a hand over his face. "Alright, well, thanks for telling me, Virgil. If…if there's anything I can do, let me know?"

Virgil nods and sinks out. Thomas puts a hand to his chest, rubbing in slow circles. There's a part of him that feels cold, still. Maybe…maybe he can figure out some way to help warm it up.

***

Roman wakes up to the sound of a crackling fire. He hums, rolling over, reaching for the edge of the bed, only to stop when his hands meet the thick red comforter. He frowns. This…this is his bed. He didn't fall asleep in the Imagination. So then why…?

He looks over and his eyes widen.

Across the room, tucked into a neat little alcove that definitely wasn't there when he went to sleep, is a merrily crackling fireplace. Above it, mounted on a gold plaque, is a cardboard sword with the words you're my hero written on it in red ink.

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