Victory
Roman is beaten. Roman is borken. Roman is bruised.
And Roman fights.
Aka I got inspired by the recent birthday photoshoot Thomas just posted. Happy birthday my favourite boy❤️ (672 words)
Link to the story on AO3 | Masterpost | Taglist
I'm beaten, I'm broken, I'm bruised. My legs hurt and my head throbs.
Thomas' hair was falling out and we had cut it short now. I felt naked and helpless. So exposed to the world. More exposed than showing the world part of my inner workings on a silly comedy show. I hid in the imagination. I sat and my head felt cold and my ears were ringing.
I don't feel like a prince anymore.
Then change.
What?
Then change. The imagination whispered. You are his sense of self. You can change as he does. You can evolve when he does. Change.
To what?
Into anything that you wish. Into anything that makes you feel whole.
I didn't know what it was. But I knew what it wasn't. I threw down my sword. I stood up. The clothes were wrong too. There was heat in my chest.
I can change. I can imagine a world how I want it to be. I am the one to form this place. To form myself. I can transform.
And I can ask for advice when I need it.
I walked through the Imagination. The grass went brown and the flowers black. The air smelled like sulfur and smog. I inhaled it deeply and felt the heat ripple through my skin. Something in me rejoiced.
His steps were loud and unapologetic. I turned my head to the side his morning star an inch away from my nose.
"Where's the sword, Ro-oaf?"
I looked at the mace, at the moustache, at the frilly bow he had wrapped around his head, celebrating the new haircut.
"At the same place, where I left my title at."
He stared and his hand remained still and unyielding around the handle of the morning star.
"Why'd you leave behind what makes you, you?"
"Because that trait isn't all I am and it's not helping. It's not helping. I'm beaten, I'm broken, I'm bruised and I've got enough. I don't want to do nothing anymore. I want to fight and you fight. You fight and you show me how. I- I ask you to show me how to fight, without hiding behind that fucking mask."
The morning star dropped. He tilted his head and scratched his chin.
"You wanna fight."
"I wanna fight."
His face split into a wide grin. He lifted his hands and suddenly the world changed and we stood somewhere else. It looked like a cellar and I wanted to look around and he grabbed my jaw and made me look back at him.
"How do you want to fight? What do you want to fight?"
The answers burst out of me without a single second of hesitation or consideration.
"With my bare hands. Everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything." I growled.
He chuckled and let me go.
"Good then change into an outfit in which you can fight everything, Romy."
I looked down at myself. I didn't know. But then I did. The white gone, the shirt hiding my bruises and scars gone. The dress pants and shows vanished for shorts and bandages wrapped around my feet. No sash. No crown. No royalty.
My eyes were burning. He handed me the red boxing gloves and the ring appeared around me. He counted me in. A figure showed up.
My ears are ringing. My legs are throbbing. It's comment after comment. Punch after punch.
It hurts. It swells. It bruises.
But I punch back. I disagree. I fight. I have a split lip, I bleed in the ring, I scream, I fall, I get up.
I win after the fifth round.
The next one comes and I fight.
I'm beaten, I'm broken, I'm bruised.
I win after the sixth round.
I fight. I fight. I fight.
No, I can't anymore but I'm not giving up now. I'm not giving up.
I'm worth more than they can see. Every scar, every black eye, every beat is worth it.
It's worth it, because I'm worth it.
I fight. I fall. I get up.
I win.
___
Taglist:
@vexelore
@exhaustedfander
@alexisrealgay
@wolfs-feder
@just-a-neoclassical-painting
@winter-jay-official
@a-ghostlight-for-roman
@mychemically-imbalanced-romance
@whattheremus
@regalredrose
@spellingwillbethedeathofme
@sarenicide
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incorrect quotes day (roman edition, in honor of his birthday!
Roman: *in a jail cell* What about my Miranda rights!? You’re supposed to say I have ‘the right to remain silent’”! NOBODY SAID I HAD THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT!
Virgil: *in the cell next to them* You have the right to remain silent, what you lack is the capacity.
Patton: Oooh, someone's got a crush!
Roman: Yeah right. I just think Logan's cool. It's not like I lie awake at night thinking about him.
*That night*
Roman, very much awake: Uh-oh.
Roman: How is spring not everyone’s favorite season? The trees are PINK, guys!
Patton: Allergies are also a problem, y'know.
Roman: But pink.
Virgil: And it's hot.
Roman: PINK!
Roman: *nudges Janus at 3am* Pretty fucked up that we depict the moon as a girl and the sun as a boy. They're just floating rocks in space. Janus. Wake up, Janus! Listen! They're sexless!
Janus: The sun isn't a rock, go back to sleep.
Remus: Which way did Roman go?
Logan: Well, based on the direction of the wind, the broken sticks in the corner, and the slight disturbance in the dirt, I'd guess they went left.
Remus: You could really figure it out from that?
Logan: No, you idiot, Roman sent me a text. See?
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