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the-west-meadow · 1 year

Note

Omg literally anything w roman but if u have slots open can u do the ‘did u miss me’ prompt i’ll do anything…

god I love writing fucked-up relationship scenarios with Roman. enjoy xo

Roman Roy x Reader

prompt: did you miss me?

The days seemed longer without him. Wandering your empty townhouse, you watched the sky change from morning to dusk, whiling away the hours. There had been no word from Roman since he left for Stockholm to meet Matsson. An urgent mission, so he said. Dispatched by his father, the dutiful son went out to fulfill his task. It sounded almost romantic.

At night you lay atop your bed, remembering him. Roman kept himself locked away, so much of him inaccessible to you. In a way, you preferred it that way. There was less risk involved, fewer feelings to hurt. The word ‘love’ never came up, there was no sense of attachment or obligation. Both of you were essentially free, yet you still felt as if he was holding something back. Something dark and inexplicable.

You came home one late afternoon to find him waiting for you on your sofa. Somehow it didn’t surprise you. But it was your own reaction that caught you off guard. Seeing him there, your heart swelled almost painfully. Roman was back. The endless energy, the flippant remarks, the explicit banter. He looked across the room at you with eyes that hinted something had happened which he had already locked away.

“I broke in,” he said. “Did you know I could do that?”

You set a bag of groceries on the counter.

“I’m not surprised,” you said, shrugging off your coat. “How was Stockholm?”

“Broad questions make me deeply uncomfortable. How am I supposed to answer that? Why are you lingering in the kitchen?”

You stepped into the living room, sitting down in the chair adjacent to him. He spread his arm across the back of the sofa and looked at you. His gaze was distant, unreadable.

“So,” he said.

“So.”

“I got Lukas to make the deal.”

“Wow. How did you do that?”

“Oh, you know. Just did what I had to do.”

The sun was sinking and a heavy blue darkness crept across the room. Roman kept his eyes fixed on you. You swallowed hard.

“Well. Congratulations. Your dad will be happy.”

“I don’t think he's familiar with that emotion. But thanks.”

He stood up, slowly circling around to the back of the sofa. He leaned on both elbows and continued to gaze at you.

“What did you do with yourself without me?” he asked.

“I lost track. You were gone a long time.”

“It takes time to woo these obstinate fucks. Lukas is a real mental case. I mean, if you think I’m nuts…”

Watching him, you could feel an invisible force threatening to pull your heart in two.

“But I caught him in his element. He really came alive in the frigid northern wastelands.”

His tone was light as always, but there was something pained in his expression.

“Oh, there’s something I was wondering, though…” he went on.

“What?”

Roman's gaze wavered slightly.

“Did you miss me?”

His voice was soft, barely breaking the silence. Yet it cut through you like the sharp tolling of a bell. Your heart lurched and you almost leapt towards him. When you spoke, it was in a broken whisper.

“Of course I missed you, you fucking idiot.”

He clenched the back of the sofa with his fists, head down.

“Oh,” he said weakly.

“You didn’t think I would?”

You watched as he climbed slowly over the back of the sofa and settled into a ball with his knees drawn in.

“Not after what I did,” he said. “What my dad made me do.”

You rose and went slowly to the sofa, sitting down beside him. He wouldn’t look at you.

“I don’t care what you did, Roman. You live in a world unknown to me. I let you live there. I don’t ask questions. But yes, I fucking miss you when you’re gone. I didn’t realize how much I would.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured. “It actually hurt. I was in physical pain. So fuck you for that.”

He glanced at you. You met each other’s eyes hesitantly.

“I hate feeling things,” he said. “Look what you’ve done to me.”

“I didn’t want this, either.”

Roman gave a weak laugh. “Well, that’s nice of you to say.”

“Roman, what happened between you and Lukas?”

“I don’t think you want to hear that.”

“I kind of do.”

“You’re such a fucking masochist. I’m not telling you.”

You stared at each other in the growing darkness.

“But you’re okay?” you asked hesitantly.

“I’m fine. Seriously. I know how to handle myself.”

“Well, I don’t know how to handle you.”

A smile flickered across his face. He leaned towards you, placed his hand on the back of your head, and kissed you on the forehead. A long, lingering gesture that made your heart skip. He pulled back and his eyes glittered with a soft smile.

“You don’t have to. Just enjoy the fucked up rollercoaster ride that is Roman Roy.”

#roman roy #roman roy/reader #roman roy x reader #succession #request #angst #fluff #lukas matsson

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stusbunker · 3 months

Text

Spotless: Eco

Chapter Eleven

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Bobby, Bela, Dick Roman and Kobe Bryant mentioned (look, he wasn't supposed to be here but I did my research and well, he had to be), Anael, faceless paps

Word Count: 1683 with pictures

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, tour planning, brunch and shopping with Bela, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

“Okay, well the official schedule from the touring company arrived, so I have maybe a week to set up the promo interviews before they announce it publicly,” you said over the phone.

“Yeah, with Crowley it’s probably gonna be sooner. Annie’s gotta find someone to step in for the whole year with this so she’s already interviewing. Let me know if you need anything, because I’m just sitting on my hands until we’re actually rolling out,” Bobby replied solemnly.

The give me something to do, please, was implied.

“Check with Benny and his boys, I know the label is supplying some guys too, but I trust you to secure the crew and security schedules,” you said as you made another note on your ever increasing list of to do’s.

Two months may have seemed like a long time, but it was the shortest turn around you’d had for a tour since taking over as publicist for Phantom Traveler and you’d be damned if you fucked it up.

“With the holidays coming up, we’ll be in a pinch to get everything nailed down. But all the commotion with Bela and everything, people will be chomping at the bit to get actual news,” you added, staring unfocused at your computer monitor.

“And he’s got that interview coming up you said, just Dean for that one?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I really hope Meg doesn’t eat him alive. But it’s his chance to give his side of things and for people to see where his head is at now.”

“The sassy little brunette, right?”

“The very one.”

“Is it going to be a tit-for-tat thing? Is Cas gonna be next for a tell-all?”

“Bobby, I don’t think Cas would do an interview and talk bad about Dean even if they paid him. He’s moved on.”

“If you say so, Dean didn’t exactly play nice.”

“He must have had hundreds of offers for the dirt since leaving the band. And everything I hear about him now is just about the kid he’s working with and how they’re creating something unique.”

“I just know how that reporter liked him— the last time.”

“I’m sure she’s going in with the bias against Dean here. Time will tell if she can be swayed,” you admitted. “Plus, Dean won't be alone. We made sure there'll be a few of us there to make it easier.”

“To keep him from making a damned fool of himself you mean.”

“Basically.”

Bobby sat on the other end of the line with his gruff silence before continuing, “you going home for Christmas?”

“Yeah, got the usual stuff with my folks for Christmas Eve then I’m helping Ellen on Christmas day. I’m flying so I won’t be gone more than a few days. Probably end up spending half of it at airports with my luck.”

“Okay, just checkin’.”

“You guys have any plans?”

“Just service on the night before and maybe something with Annie’s cousins. Might just be a train of open houses.”

“Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I’d enjoy myself.”

You laughed and wrapped it up with a promise to touch base before you left town. The next two days were a whirlwind of emails and phone calls. You put off confirming brunch with Bela for Sunday, but relented from guilt, as she now had regular visits from paparazzi outside her townhouse due to her and Dean’s night club-hopping. You finished up your Saturday errands and plopped yourself onto your stationary bike in a last ditch effort to fend off your restlessness until it was a reasonable enough time to crash.

God, your life was so exciting.

Bela poured you another glass from the endless pitcher of mimosas. “Anyway, I guess Dean got us tickets to the Lakers’ game tomorrow night, like I actually care about baseball.”

“Basketball,” you corrected, taking a sip.

“Exactly,” Bela smirked.

“How good are the tickets? He doesn’t really follow it either,” you continued, worried they’d be in an embarrassing section.

“I think he said something about getting the label’s box for the game?” She tried to play innocent.

You almost spit out your drink. “The entire box?”

“It’s not floor seats’ exposure, but it will be worth it at least. I think he said he called in a favor with Dick?”

“Dick Roman is giving Dean access to his exclusive luxury box at the Staples Center?” You were floored, you opened your phone and googled who they were playing. “Holy fuck, they’re retiring Kobe’s number tomorrow. It’s going to be insane. There’s no way that box isn’t gonna be packed, but at least you can bump elbows with the uppity ups.”

“Kobe Bryant, yeah? He was quite prolific,” Bela seemed pleased.

“Uh, yeah, played his whole career here,” you added, but put your phone away. Unwilling to text Dean a ‘wtf’ text while you still had another hour of drinks and foodstuffs to get through. “What are you going to wear?”

Bela slid her most compelling face on. “I was hoping we could find something together. It’s been ages since we drunk shopped. Plus, it’s the holidays so I will need to be a bit tipsy if I want to deal with the crowds.”

You had literally nothing left to buy for Christmas, but drunk shopping was a time-honored tradition between the two of you. Plus, it was fun watching Bela work her magic and pull a stunning outfit together out of seemingly discordant pieces.

“Three stores and I’m getting my own ride home, missy,” you warned with a firm pointer finger.

“Of course!” Bela chuckled and tucked into her eggs, eyes flitting back to you with conspiratorial delight.

You finished off your mimosa and finally saw to your french toast.

Bela’s driver took you to all of her favorite haunts and naturally she weaseled her way in to see the best stylists, at least those who were actually on hand on the Sunday afternoon before Christmas. At Sister Jo’s boutique, the owner herself greeted Bela with a double cheek kiss and hug.

“What are you doing here? Wait, don’t tell me, you need an outfit asap because your little rocker boy toy needs arm candy,” the woman, who was actually named Anael, teased.

“You know me too well,” Bela replied. “This is my dear friend, Y/N, and we’re a bit on the tilt from brunch, but I simply had to come see you. I need something casual and sexy. It’s for a basketball game.”

You waved as she nodded in your direction, not wanting to break the momentum.

Anael frowned and looked Bela over, with much consideration. Then she hummed before asking, “how do you feel about hats?”

Nearly two hours and a top off on champagne later (to keep your buzzes going), you and Bela walked out of the shop with a bag each and a receipt ensuring Bela would be back in the morning for the alterations on the remaining garments.

“Well, I’d say that was a successful outing,” Bela said with pride, the pink in her cheeks the only hint of her lingering inebriation.

“I’d say,” you agreed, opening the back door of her pre-ordered ride. “I still can’t believe they had something that would work for me for New Year’s.”

Bela waited on the curb until she could slide in the other side, but continued your trail of thought. “Anael is good people, if she likes something, she carries it. Doesn’t matter the size or price, she is all about how an outfit makes you feel,” Bela explained.

“Well, it worked, because I just spent more on myself than I have the entire year because of how good it felt on, so I get it,” you said, patting the bag at your feet.

Bela confirmed your address with the driver and then hers, thanking them for going out of their way in a way that she wasn’t actually apologizing for being a burden.

“You got eyes on you lady,” the driver warned, pointing towards the corner where a camera lens was trained on the car.

“Ignore them, they’ll find someone else before they follow us very far,” Bela promised and you could see her almost glaring at the rearview mirror for the driver to get the lead out.

You sat on the couch in your robe and sleep pants, hair still wet and wrapped on top of your head. You had crashed for a late afternoon nap after shopping and had rebounded with a blissfully long shower and skincare treatment. Now you watched mind numbing television and plotted out your schedule for the coming week. Even though it was cut short with holiday travels, it was full-to-bursting with things to get done.

You sighed and dragged out your suitcase from under your bed, dropped it on the couch and unzipped it to start packing. At least you could watch something while you organized.

Just after ten your phone buzzed with a text message. You ignored it for a minute until you could find the remote beneath your pile of socks and paused your Lord of the Rings rewatch.

You stared at the conversation with the movie still paused, dumbfounded. One, that Dean sent you a goodnight text of all things and secondly that he was going to willingly give Bela his phone to post on social media about them. Because it’s not official until they’re both posting each other, or so they say. This was going to be big for the fan girls. You already knew Becky would be emailing you the second she saw it. But as far as fanclub presidents went, she wasn’t the worst. Then again, she would be more than a little bitter if Sam and Madison were the ones flaunting their relationship.

You put a reminder in your calendar to cover an extra sweep of SM while you were waiting out Dean’s interview Tuesday morning and then you tossed your phone back amongst your clothes. You were done for the night and so you shoved your half-packed suitcase on the floor and restarted the movie.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

Chapter Twelve: Hook

#spotless series #dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #dean/bela #slow burn #rockstar au #fake dating

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coconut-cluster · 11 months

Text

Logan has never regretted his decision to move off campus after freshman year. He lived in a dorm that first year, by requirement from the university - something about finding a community and getting used the campus, i.e. paying thousands more in room and board on top of tuition to fill the university's pockets - and sure, he'd been excited about it, to some extent. He met Patton and Roman and Virgil from the experience, and he'd gotten lucky with a room that looked out over the forest that surrounded the campus, much to his delight. It certainly could have been worse. But he was an only child who grew up with an entire townhouse mostly to himself - he needed his space. One can only stomach communal bathrooms for so long.

He was on his own when it came to financing an apartment, but after rooming with Patton for a year already and crunching the numbers of his scholarship reimbursements, it was the only logical option. Patton's eye for decorating and his own proclivity for Excel-spreadsheet budgets made the transition smooth, almost comfortable. He's never looked back.

He does, however, regret getting an apartment so damn far from campus.

By the time he's finished with editing the latest batch of articles and desperately craving caffeine, it's late evening, the sunset hidden by trees and a storm rolling over the hills outside his window. He pauses at his desk and hears the distant crash of thunder - it's perfect weather for coffee in front of the window-nook Patton's carved out with pillows and bookshelves. He could brew a pot now and be cozied up before the rain starts.

Patton's in the kitchen, though, with a singsong medley of dishes and off-key humming to the radio that drifts down the hall to Logan's room. Patton never minds company, but Logan minds the loose-limbed energy of Patton's cooking. Too many potholders to the face would put anyone on high alert. Besides, it's Thursday.

It's Thursday, and Logan chose an apartment light years away from campus, so he has to start driving now if he wants to catch the end of the evening shift.

Patton shoots him a bright smile as he cuts through the living room, raincoat and umbrella in hand.

"Going out?" he calls over the radio. Before Logan can answer, he glances at the calendar hung by the breakfast nook, and his smile colors with knowing. "Oh, Solipsis night. Get me a hot chocolate?"

Logan grabs his keys with a nod. "Cinnamon?"

"Yes sir-ee. Be safe on the roads, it's gonna come down real soon." Logan gives another nod, and just before he closes the door, Patton calls out with that knowing grin, "Give Jan a kiss from me!"

Logan slams the door before he can react.

Solipsis is, in many ways, a college student's approximation of paradise. It's on the historic main street of the city, where all the buildings are entresol-style and made of old brick - the café sticks out against a row of random university offices, shedding golden light onto the street through a big window with its name painted in big, blocky letters. It's got two levels, connected by a winding metal staircase; the first floor stretches deep into the building, lined with big, oaken tables for study groups or impressive spreads of journals and textbooks and laptops. The second is a smaller loft, dotted with round tables where solo students hole themselves up for hours at a time in relative silence. The whole place is covered in hanging plants and warm bauble lights - it's ridiculously easy to forget how late it is when everything is golden and set to indie folk music. It's a genius business venture in a town full of exhausted college kids.

("It's pretentious," Janus insists, frequently. "Unfinished oak with iron stairs, I mean, Jesus, really? And calling it Solipsis- you can tell it's owned by some uppity philosophy student."

"You're an uppity philosophy student," Logan reminds him every time. He does not remind him that he willingly chose to work there in the first place.

Janus just rolls his eyes. "At least I've got taste.")

Regardless of taste (or lack thereof), Solipsis is a hotspot. Logan steps in just as evening thunder starts a steady beat outside, hardly surprised to see most of the tables occupied by students in various states of distress and exhaust.

Roasted coffee and rain mix as he takes a deep breath past the doorway. Behind the counter, a lone barista mans the espresso machine, pushing stray hairs out of her face and eyeing him like she'd rather he walk right back out the door than up to the counter. He pretends to read the sandwich board of specials and simply waits.

A moment later, the door to the back room flips open and Janus bustles over to the register, arms full of paper cups in neat towers. He ditched the black jacket he'd worn to class for the cafe's uniform apron, with the sleeves of his sweater - as they rarely are - pushed up to his elbows, baring his wrists, where the beaded friendship bracelet Patton made for him years ago sits. His face is set in a focused frown as he sets to restocking the counter.

Logan waits a moment longer at the specials board, giving Janus a minute to finish a stack before he ambles up to the register. Janus looks up - his hair is pushed back in a hurried swoop, a very Roman style that he's picked up in recent months - and the frown gives way to a familiar almost-smile.

"Oliveira," he sighs, grabbing two cups from the fresh stack and scribbling shorthand on their sides. "Come to harass me yet again in my place of work. Never a day's reprieve from your antics."

"I didn't say anything yet," Logan deadpans as he pays, "and I don't think ordering drinks at the ordering-drinks-establishment counts as harassment."

Janus tils his head with a saccharine smile. "You're so creative."

The barista working at the espresso machine takes the cups from his hands, pulling milk and syrups out with practiced speed, still eyeing Logan with thinly veiled disdain.

Janus joins her in mixing the drinks as Logan idles by the counter, with no one else lined up behind him to prompt movement. After a moment, Janus returns to his cup stacks, moving to restock the empty spots on the back wall. Logan eyes the clock above his head.

"You're here late," he comments, and Janus glances back before following his gaze to the time with a grimace.

"I agreed to stay a half hour longer," he says with an unmistakable air of regret. "They had a new hire close last night, and he majorly screwed up waste inventory- surprise, he wasn't trained before they stuck him on the shift, no clue how that happened." The other barista snorts. "Anyway, the manager opened this morning and lost their shit, said they're really cracking down on the closing checklist being done perfectly, whatever the hell that means. I stayed behind to get as much started for Freya as I could before I head out."

The other barista - Freya - looks completely dead-eyed at the prospect of closing, but she sends Janus a small smile regardless.

"Of course, the one night I stick around is the night it starts pouring," Janus huffs. It storms more than the sun shines here, but Logan just nods sympathetically, glancing out the window to find the rain has started up with a crack of lightning. He looks back as Freya slides two drinks across the counter to him, flashing a practiced, split-second smile in response to his nod.

He eyes Janus for a moment, blowing into the little hole on the lid of his drink to cool it down and listening to Janus' barely audible grumbling about his hair and his shoes and his forgetting an umbrella, somehow, until Logan pipes up, "Do you need a ride?"

Janus pauses - grumbling and stacking - and shoots a frown over his shoulder. "You drove here?"

"I always do, if I'm not coming from campus," says Logan. He gets a blank stare in return. "It's too far to walk from my apartment."

Instantly, cup stacking is no longer Janus' top priority. He turns to face Logan again, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Freya swiftly takes over his task, sending a furtive glance at them as Janus studies him. "You drive here every week?"

"Yes."

Janus stares at him, really stares. "There's, like, five coffee shops near your apartment."

"Six, actually." There's even one on the first floor of his apartment building. It's stuffy and the coffee is always burnt. Cheap, though.

"You could walk to any of those."

"I suppose."

"Why are you wasting gas to come all the way here?"

"It's not a waste," Logan frowns, and Janus' eyebrows shoot up.

"Our coffee's not that good, Oliveira. I promise you can get a mint mocha at the place on 3rd-"

"I like your coffee."

Freya, now refilling lids, shoots a very overt, smug glance over her shoulder at Janus, but he doesn't look away from Logan. The lighting in the café is dim near the counter; Logan must be imagining the pink flush on Janus' face.

"My coffee," Janus repeats.

"Your coffee," Logan says with a nod, and Janus gets that same blank stare as before, uncomprehending. "The way you make it. It's not the same at other cafes." He lifts his cup, pushing the sleeve down with a small smile. "And other baristas don't do this."

Janus' eyes fall to the heart doodled under Oli, and the pink on his face deepens to a pretty red.

"Well," he putters, uncrossing his arms to smooth his apron, then crossing them again, then picking at a loose thread on his sleeve that conveniently tears his attention from the cup. Logan holds it up still. "They might, if you spent all your time bothering them at work. It's not my fault you've chosen me as the target of your idle drivel."

"Oh, of course." Logan entertains the idea of teasing him - there is this barista at the café in my building, they asked for my number once, I guess I could bother them - but instead he just sips his drink and watches Janus with a little smile. "I just prefer Solipsis, I suppose."

Janus unties his apron with a huff. "You're annoying."

"Very creative."

"Shut up."

He disappears into the backroom before Logan can respond, emerging a minute later with his bag and coat in hand. Freya waves goodbye as he stalks out past the counter and up to Logan. Like every Thursday - every Solipsis trip before, coffee in hand and Janus off work and the walk to his apartment a trip Logan silently insists on making with him - he's acutely aware of the stray hair falling in Janus' face, the pink still lingering under his freckles, the smell of coffee and caramel on him.

"Driving here in a storm just to torment me is ridiculous," Janus says, significantly more composed than before, haughty once more, "but lucky for you, walking home in this weather would be more ridiculous. So I will grace you with my presence and take the ride home."

Logan raises his eyebrows. "Oh, but I thought I was annoying-"

"I will steal your car."

"...Come on."

(Living so far off campus, at least, gives him this exchange to look forward to.)

#loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #uni au #this isnt edited you just get it #not really a drabble. whoops #this was ten lines when i pulled it out of my drafts #logan gets to be a little silly in this one #fellas is it gay to drive 15 minutes to your rival's work to flirt then walk him home then walk back to your car and drive 15 minutes home #lexi writes #<< been a WHILE for that tag lmao

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lovelylogans · 9 months

Text

the parent trap

CHAPTER SEVEN: operation augstus

The realization of having an identical twin does quite a bit to spur some out-of-the-box levels of creativity.

⁂

The rest of the day passes in a giddy, unreal blur.

They eschew camp activities and communal meals—who needed any of that when you’d just found your twin brother for the first time?!

The wedding photo, placed as close to reunited as they could manage, has taken place of pride in the midst of their communal bulletin board.

Cubby and Paddington—in their own way, reunited, long-lost twins—are put in pride of place at the forefront of Roman’s dresser, the best-lit location in the room at the moment. They even look like they’re holding paws.

They spend a lot of time going I can’t believe it! and who’d have thought and I really, really can’t believe it! but that one’s mostly Roman, but Remus can totally get the urge.

Because seriously. A long-lost identical twin brother.

A long-lost identical twin brother who is currently telling him all about life with Dad—who exists and walks and talks and is generally a real person with thoughts and opinions rather than a frozen figure in just one picture—and Dad’s cousin, Uncle Logan, and their Grandfather (“we have a Grandfather?!”) who all live together in—

“How big’s the townhouse?”

“Oh, don’t make me try to translate proper measurements to your awful system,” Roman complains. “I don’t know—big enough that we all have our own bedroom? It’s a house.”

“Still—you’re in London, you all have to be squished in between other houses. That sounds really—”

“How could they have never told us about each other?” Roman says, and that stops Remus in his tracks.

He tries to come up with something. Anything.

All he can come up with is “I dunno.”

“I know that Dad doesn’t tell me everything in his life, especially if it has to do with Papa,” Roman says in a small voice. “But I’d have thought he’d at least tell me something as important as this.”

“And hiding this is totally unlike Pa,” Remus says. “He’s a total open book. He’s so lovey-dovey with so many people, and he’s all about that importance of family junk, he schedules in bonding time and everything. Almost a little too much, sometimes.”

“...maybe he schedules too much with you because—”

“—what, because he’s missing you?” Remus says, then stops to think for a literal second. “No, yeah, that actually sounds a lot like Pa. Huh. That’s definitely part of why he’s so…”

He struggles for the word, then, “You’d get it if you met Pa.”

“I wish I could,” Roman says glumly. “If our parents didn’t even know that we were going to meet each other—”

But that jogs a thought for Remus and he interrupts immediately.

“So you haven’t written Dad about me, right?” Remus checks. “Like, back in the fencing match or whatever.”

“Certainly not,” Roman says, affronted. “He’d be lecturing me for weeks that I managed to get caught pulling tricks on someone else.”

“Me either, with Pa,” Remus says, “except he’d just be lecturing me for weeks period. Dad sounds cooler about that sort of thing, but I’m getting off track: you never mentioned the name Remus or Parker, right? Because I never said anything about a Roman or a James.”

“No, I was so sick to death of the conversation that I just completely blocked out the fencing match from my letter,” Roman says. “And then—well, all the trouble started. I think I mentioned going to play poker, but that would be it.”

“Well,” Remus says. “They can’t know that we’ve met.”

Roman looks stung. “Why not?”

“Uh, hello?!” Remus says. “I don’t know about you, but I think a letter home going Dear Pa, Guess who I met! My identical twin brother, and you’ve got some explaining to do! might not get the results we want, will it?”

“But we can’t not write about anything,” Roman says. “I don’t know how I’d feel waiting to talk to Dad about camp until we got home again, I’ve been writing him fairly consistently, unless—”

Roman pauses.

“Unless?” Remus prompts.

“...unless we come up with an alias,” Roman says slowly.

“A what?”

“An alias! Like a codename,” Roman says. “That way, we can write home saying we’ve made a new friend this and that, and then when we get home we can lay all of our cards on the table. Like, we know we have a brother out there, look at this Polaroid for proof and explain yourself!”

“That’s a pretty good idea,” Remus admits. “What’s our codename, though? Like, Harry M. Welsch?”

“That’s a movie character, isn’t it.”

“Oh yeah, for sure.”

“That would give it away immediately. No, we need something unique…”

Roman hand-to-God starts tapping his finger against his chin, like some kind of movie character, before: “I’ve got it! Well, part of it.”

“Well, tell me your part, and I can come up with my part.”

“Roman,” he says, placing a hand to his chest, then pointing, “Remus.”

“Yeah…?”

“You’re familiar with the story of the creation of the Roman empire, aren’t you? Isn’t a name for something related to both of our names obvious?”

“Your codename cannot be Rome.”

“No!” Roman laughs, then, “I’m saying the real-life founder of Rome instead of the mythical ones. Our codename should be Augustus.”

“...Huh,” Remus says. “You know, that’s… not terrible.”

“I’m making friends with a boy in my cabin named Augustus,” Roman prompts. “We play poker and we’ve found an abandoned cabin—”

“—no mentions of our exile then—?”

“—of course not—and we hang out together a lot more, we’re getting to be really close, practically like brothers…”

“Oh, I catch your drift,” Remus says. “Hm. I guess I should come up with a last name, then…. oh!”

“Is it going to be awful?”

“Augustus Plotka!” Remus says, nudging him. “Because Augustus is key to our plot?”

“Awful.”

“I could just call him last name Operation, first name Augustus.”

“Plotka’s fine,” Roman says hastily.

⁂

Hi Pa and Virgil,

Sorry I haven’t written in a while! I got real caught up in stuff with a guy from Pine. He’s pretty cool, I guess, he knows a lot about fashion and fencing and poker and stuff. His name’s Augustus Plotka and we’ve had to spend a lot of time together lately since it’s raining like crazy here so it means we spend a lot more time talking to other people.

Which also means more letter writing, since there’s not a lot to do out while it’s raining. I guess everyone needed a rest anyway, so much has been happening here that you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you. There’s been a bit of a shuffle around for scheduling since I guess the counselors trust us enough to know our way around now and me and Gus found this abandoned cabin—I’ll stick a Polaroid in the envelope—isn’t it spooky?! It looks like someone’s going to come and murder us in the dead of night and this cabin used to belong to the founder of camp who haunts it to this day, I love it.

I haven’t actually found any evidence of hauntings or grisly murders. Yet. But give me time!!!

I think Gus would probably like that if just through a storytelling perspective. He’s kind of squeamish but I guess everyone is compared to me. You should’ve seen his face when I started making Sludge at the dinner table! He didn’t think I would eat it! It’s like he’d never even met me!

How’s stuff at the vineyard? How’s Sprout doing? Apparently there’s going to be some rinky-dink old donkey down at camp sometime, but there’s no way that ass is gonna hold a candle to Sprout. (I can write it! That’s the technical name for a donkey!)

Send suggestions of junk food to st request from the kitchens!!! I think Gus is Amish or something, he’d never tried a Dunkaroo or a Fruit Roll-Up until he came to camp, can you believe it?!

Pet Sammy and Sprout for me, and also don’t even worry about whatever noises are coming from the closet in my room,

—Remus

⁂

Dear Dad (and Uncle Logan, and Grandfather),

At last, some semblance of home here! The downpour we’ve had lately is truly something; Augustus from my cabin keeps trying to tell me various American turns of phrase for it, but I think at least one of them is fake. Probably “the devil’s beating his wife,” because that seems rather uncouth, doesn’t it? But Augustus swears up and down that’s what Americans say when it rains while it’s kind of sunny outside so long as his last name’s Plotka.

This means much more time for drawing and painting—we got to explore a bit more before the rain shut us in, and Augustus and I found this abandoned cabin (sketch enclosed) that makes for a nice quiet area to sit in shelter without worry of any interference from other campers, who seem to ignore this cabin’s existence entirely.

Augustus likes to paint too, but he tends to a bit of a more… impressionistic style, let’s say? Lots of bright colors, lots of interfering with any brushstrokes with using his fingers because “the paint’s not going where I want it,” but it turns out pretty good, so I suppose I know what he’s doing.

We’ve rather settled into a rhythm here at camp, and the counselors seem to trust that we know where we’re going now, so we have much more freedom in picking our tasks. So that means less basketball (I really am rubbish at it) and much more footie, arts and crafts, and hanging out by the lake, which is as I prefer rather than trying my best to avoid being tackled by the brutish sport that is American football.

Anyway, this weather ALSO leaves us plenty of time to play poker (Augustus gets close but he’s hasn’t beaten me in three matches, even though he tries to count cards and is absolutely unrepentant) and talk about things. His home sounds interesting, but I find myself missing you all more and more.

Your son/cousin-once-removed/grandson,

Roman James

⁂

And now, to close the night, they’ve pushed their beds together, arms tucked under their heads, talking and talking, the way they’ve been talking and talking all day, and it’s just—

It’s just so weird. Even for Remus.

“Did Papa ever remarry?”

“Nah,” Remus says. “He always says he’s too busy with me and the vineyard, and that romantic love isn’t the end-all be-all of life anyway and that he’s perfectly happy with the platonic love he’s got. How about Dad?”

“No—he said that marriage isn’t much for him,” Roman says, then, thoughtfully, “I’m sure he’s gone on dates, but nothing too serious.”

“Same as Pa, then,” Remus says.

“That’s rather poetic, I suppose. Both of them mirroring each other even after all this time.”

“I don’t know if they sound too much alike,” Remus says. “Actually, they sound real different. They did end up getting divorced for some reason, you know.”

“Do you know?” Roman says. “The reason our parents got divorced, I mean.”

“Not really—Pa doesn’t talk about it, much. It makes him too sad.”

“Dad either. He always changes the subject. I don’t know much about their partnership, really. Well—clearly, neither of us knew that much, considering our current predicament.”

“Do you know much about how our Dads met?” Remus asks, adjusting slightly so he can see Roman better.

“Some,” Roman says. “Probably the same as you.”

“Say it anyway, in case you know any little details different from me.”

“Well,” Roman says. “Dad’s scared stiff of flying, you see, so when he had to go from London to the States he booked a ticket on the Queen Elizabeth II, an ocean liner. Dad was put next to Papa at dinner, and I’m told that was history. They were married onboard the ship in less than the two weeks the voyage took.”

“Going from strangers to marrying them in two weeks,” Remus says with a shake of his head. “That’s wild. And I’m saying that.”

“Well, I think it’s rather romantic,” Roman declares.

Remus wonders, in a daze, if hearing about the opposite life he could have had is as strange for Roman as it will be for him… if they’d just been switched at birth, it’s the life Remus could have had, knowing his Dad instead of his Pa, but then…

But then it clicks.

“Roman,” he says, turning to grin at his brother—his brother! “I have a completely perfect, totally awesome idea!”

Roman blinks at him, briefly lifting his head, propping himself up on his elbows.

“You want to know what Pa is like, right?”

“Well, of course,” Roman says.

“And I wanna know what Dad is like,” Remus pushes. “I’m thinking—Roman, when camp is over, I think we should switch places.”

Roman gapes at him.

“I’ll go to London to spend time with Dad and Uncle Logan as you,” Remus says, then, “so weird I have an Uncle, by the way—”

“—he’s not technically our uncle, he’s Dad’s cousin—”

“—same difference—and you’ll go to California to spend time with Pa as me!”

“Remus,” Roman protests, “we’re so completely and utterly different—”

“Roman, we’re identical twins!” Remus urges. “This is the kind of thing that pranksters dream of! We can teach each other—you can tell me about why I should like beans on toast—” (“they’re good!”) “—and I can teach you cool things, like how to build stink bombs—look, I can be you already!”

Remus covers the streak in his hair with his hand and puts on his haughtiest English accent.

“But do you want to know the real difference between you and me? That I know how to fence and you don’t? Or is it that I have class and you don’t? Take your pick.”

Roman grins sheepishly.

“Come on, Rome,” Remus urges, clasping his hands together under his chin. “I gotta meet my Dad—and I know you wanna meet your Papa.”

He juts out his lower lip and widens his eyes in his best possible puppy-dog eyes impression.

Roman chews his lip. Then—

“You know,” Roman says, some realization dawning over his eyes. “You do realize, if we switch…”

“Yeah?”

“Then Dad and Papa are going to have to reunite to switch us back.”

Remus gasps, the realization hitting him.

“And when they do—” Roman prompts.

“They’ll have to reunite again!”

“After all these years…” Roman sighs, “oh, it’s like a romance movie, I could just die!”

“Ugh, I dunno about romance,” Remus complains.

“Oh, hush,” Roman says happily. “So… if we were to switch…”

Remus nudges him with an elbow. “You’re gonna have to work on your accent.”

“Oh, as if yours is any better.”

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#my fic #my fanfic #tpt fic

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asa-do-your-thing · 1 year

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An inconvenient Attachment - Chapter 2

“Callers”

Regency AU! Aemond x F! OC

18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2,2k

Warnings: not really anything besides some lying and period-accurate misoginy. The tiniest amount of fluff if you squint.

Also a huuuge thank you to @crownedtargaryen for pre-reading it and giving me help&advice!

Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

The morning of the Countess of Stanmore and her daughter, Camille, began like every other day at their townhouse in Hanover Square in London. As the first dim rays of the rising sun slowly crept in through the windowpanes, the servants’ footsteps could be heard from the hallway below. Soon enough, the house was alive with the clatter and chatter of the servants preparing breakfast and attending to their duties.

The Countess, attired in a dark silk morning dress and a lace trimmed shawl, was already in her drawing room. She had her breakfast laid out on a mahogany side table and began to enjoy a cup of tea as she read through some correspondence. Camille soon joined her mother, wearing a pretty pink day dress, her hair tied into a bun at the back of her head.

Yawning, she sat down and poured herself some tea, rubbing her sore eyes. "Good morning, mother. How are you?" The Countess looked up from her letters and smiled warmly. "Good morning, my dear. I am well, thank you. And how did you sleep?"

Camille took a sip of her tea, savoring its warmth. "Not too well, I'm afraid. I might have overindulged myself in the punch yesterday for I had the strangest dreams last night."

"Oh?" the Countess raised an eyebrow in interest. "Pray, do tell."

"It was nothing, really," Camille said, shrugging. "Just some silly dreams about suitors and duels...well, it doesn't matter." She trailed off as a servant entered the room with a tray of freshly baked pastries.

The servant bowed and set the tray down on the table. "My lady, there is a caller at the door."

The Countess raised her eyebrows in surprise. "A visitor at this hour? Who is it?" she said as she rose from her seat to go and greet them.

She returned shortly with a rather clumsy looking gentleman wearing a deep blue tailcoat, flaxen breeches, and a powdered wig that seemed to be slightly out of place. She introduced him as Lord Blywood and asked Camille to stand so he could greet her properly.

Camille blushed slightly and stood up reluctantly, but was soon put at ease by Lord Blywood's gentle mannerisms. He began telling her about his travels in Europe, speaking animatedly about the beautiful landscapes and fascinating cultures he had encountered there. Despite herself, Camille found herself intrigued by his stories, imagining what it would be like to travel the world like he had done.

He went on about his most recent expedition, into the Pyrenees mountain range, where he claimed to have uncovered an old temple filled with priceless artifacts. As he spoke, it became more and more difficult to believe his story; his passion for exploration seemed too good to be true. Camille stifled a yawn. Wasn't calling upon someone the first step in a courtship? Why on earth did he try to bore her with false stories, then?

She couldn't quite believe him, as he told her all of these fantastic stories. Arching an eyebrow, she cocked her head to the side. "Aren't the Pyrenees in France, my Lord? What kind of temple did you find? For it is not known that the Gauls had any temples there and Roman temples are... well, well known."

Lord Blywood's expression faltered for a moment as he seemed to realize he had been caught in his lie. "Ah, well, my dear, you are quite right. It was actually in Egypt where I made that particular discovery."

Camille chuckled softly to herself, wondering what other grand tales Lord Blywood had up his sleeve. After a moment, the conversation eventually turned to more mundane topics of politeness and gossip, and Camille found herself growing bored once again.

As soon as Lord Blywood had taken his leave, Camille turned to her mother with a sigh. "What a bore," she said, rolling her eyes. "All that talk of temples and expeditions."

The Countess smiled indulgently at her daughter. "Give him time, my dear. Perhaps he simply needs to find the right subject to engage you with."

Camille shook her head. "I highly doubt it, mother. His stories were quite absurd, and I found his mannerisms to be rather off-putting."

"Well, we shall see," the Countess said with a shrug. "Perhaps he will surprise us yet."

But deep down, Camille knew that Lord Blywood was not the kind of man she could fall in love with. She longed for adventure and excitement, not safe and boring tales of far-off lands. As she sipped her tea and nibbled on a croissant, Camille made a mental note to keep searching for the kind of man who could truly capture her heart.

It wasn't long before several more callers arrived. Lord Fennly was the quintessential London gentleman, with a dashing smile and the kind of wit that kept Camille entertained for hours. He brought her a bouquet of daffodils, from god-knows-where, seeing as snow was fast approaching. But amiable as he was, she couldn't help feeling that he would be better suited to one of the other debutantes, especially those that loved... a thrill.

The next caller was less handsome but more dignified. Lord Thurston tried his best to engage Camille in spirited conversation, but it quickly became apparent that they had nothing in common—he favored dull topics such as politics and economics while she enjoyed reading novels and attending musical events. In the end, they agreed to disagree politely and part ways shortly after.

By now it was beginning to seem like none of the gentlemen who called on her would ever captivate her heart the way she hoped—not like Lord Aemond, who seemed so full of promise when they met at last night's ball.

Just as a rather old italian Count whose name Camille had completely forgotten had given her a lame compliment, the door flew open and Lord Aemond strode in with a cold expression. One of the Earl's footmen brought in a gargantuan vase of mixed flowers and set them on the small table in front of Camille, obscuring her view and hiding her from everyone else.

"What is this?" the Countess exclaimed, frowning slightly at Lord Aemond. The young man set his jaw and cleared his throat. "A gift for the Lady Camille," he replied, smiling confidently. "My apologies for calling upon you so late in the day."

Camille pressed her kerchief against her nose, trying her hardest not to sneeze and tried glancing over the flowers at him. "Th-- Thank you. Achoo!", she sneezed and tried her best to bow to him.

"My lady, you look quite beautiful today," he said, looking down at her over the flowers. He smiled and glanced around at the other men surrounding Camille, who had been left standing awkwardly around the Countess's drawing room.

“Are they giving you trouble, my Lady?” He asked, putting on a protective expression and getting between her and the other men. Camille awkwardly shook her head and looked at her mother, who in turn stood up and gave them a short smile. "I am most grateful for your presence this day, gentlemen. I must now humbly request your departure, though you are ever welcome to return in the future." The Count and the other gentleman hurriedly bowed to them both before they left in a flurry of cloaks and hats, leaving Lord Aemond and Camille alone, save for the Countess, who had begun pouring Brandy into her tea mug.

Camille tried to peek out between the leaves of the huge bouquet he brought, feeling embarrassed and awkward as ever. This was her first time 'alone' with Lord Aemond and she could feel her nerves starting to get the better of her. As she tried to think of something witty or charming enough to say, she noticed that Lord Aemond was looking intently at her, evidently waiting for her to say something.

“Forgive me my Lady, but you look comical hidden behind these flowers like that!” He said with a chuckle.Camille blushed furiously, wishing more than anything for some kind of distraction so she wouldn’t have to look up into his face directly. “Yes…well, I do thank you for this kind gift, it is rather beautiful…um...what were you saying?” She stammered nervously before taking another sip from her tea cup in hopes that her embarrassment would soon pass. Lord Aemond bit his lip, as if he was getting annoyed with her awkwardness. "I was simply asking how your day has been so far, my lady. You seem to have had quite a few callers."

Camille rolled her eyes, the memory of Lord Blywood's elaborate stories still fresh in her mind. "Yes, quite a few," she said with a sigh. "But they were all rather dull, I'm afraid."

Lord Aemond raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, I hope I won't bore you with my conversation, then."

Camille smiled, yet still hoped that the ground might swallow her up at any given moment. Why on earth was he making her feel this way? "I highly doubt that," she said teasingly, trying to bite down her nervousness. "You always have something intriguing to say."

Lord Aemond chuckled, his eye cold and sparkling. "Flattery will get you nowhere with me, my lady," he said, leaning forward slightly. Camille felt a sudden warmth overtaking her chest, but she tried to ignore it and simply nodded and laughed, fanning herself. "Oh, I wasn't aware that you were that easily impressed!" She joked, glancing up at him. Why did he always have to look so stoic with his dark eyepatch and pomaded hair? The Lord only knew. Lord Aemond smiled at her before getting up from his seat and bowing slightly in front of her.

He looked just like a cat that was inches away from a sweet, fat mouse. "If I may be so bold, my lady… Would you graciously accept to accompany me to the opera house this evening? It has been an age since I have listened to some sublime melodies, and I can think of no more delightful companion than one as exquisite as yourself."

Camille felt her heart skip a beat at his words, unable to comprehend why such a handsome and well-known gentleman would choose to spend an evening with someone like her. However, before she could find an answer in herself, he extended his arm for her to take hold of it, smiling warmly at her – a look so genuine that all doubts seemed to vanish in seconds. "Yes," She said shyly, putting on a brave smile as she accepted his invitation. After that, conversation seemed to come much easier than before. Lord Aemond showed himself quite the gentleman, talking about his love for works of literature, philosophy and art. Camille had never expected a nobleman to be so open-minded and well-read, yet here he was – speaking as if they were lifelong friends instead of strangers. In little more than an hour they were already deep in discussions regarding the many sculptures they planned to visit during their trip to the opera house.

Camille couldn't believe how quickly time had gone by. She had never felt so comfortable talking to someone she barely knew, and it was a feeling that warmed her heart like nothing else.

With a smile on her face, she got up from her seat, bowing politely to Lord Aemond. "I think it is about time for me to retire to my chambers," She said with an awkward smile, feeling the heat of his gaze upon her.

He nodded in understanding, also getting up from his seat. "It has been a pleasure spending some time with you, my lady," He said warmly before looking away and taking a step back as if to remind himself that it was proper etiquette not to keep someone in their company any longer than necessary.

She smiled and gave him one last curtsy before turning away and walking out of the room. But as soon as she closed the door behind her, Camille could feel her cheeks heating up at the thought of what had just transpired between them–it seemed like an eternity since she had experienced such lovely feelings like these!

Could Lord Aemond have felt something too? She wondered dreamily as she made her way towards her chambers. Only time would tell…

As she sat there, lost in thought, a knock sounded at the door, interrupting her musings. Her maid entered, her face flushed with excitement. "My Lady! There is a package for you, left here by Lord Aemond Targaryen," she said breathlessly, holding out a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.

Camille took the parcel, her heart racing with anticipation. She opened it up, revealing a beautiful necklace made of pearls and diamonds with a thick sapphire in the middle.

"Please tell me if I should consider courting you, my Lady. Do not make it it more difficult for me than it has to be. I know I'm not your first choice.."

A faint crease appeared on her brow as she surveyed his note. She hastened to don the necklace, perplexed by its purpose. Evidently, he was the only person to arouse any kind of romantic feeling in her, so what was he thinking about?

#hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #regency au #hotd regency au #fanfiction #aemond fluff #asa writes #asas fics

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witchoftheisles · 6 months

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12 Grimmauld Place

Of all the world’s great cities London is one of the oldest, with its history spanning nearly two millennia. It is the capital city of England; it has been since William the Conqueror won the Battle of Hastings and was named King of England in the newly completed Westminster Abbey on Christmas Day 1066. Through its higgledy-piggledy streets, all teeming with life, runs the River Thames, weaving like an ancient serpent through the city’s bones, coursing away through the thousands of years as the rumbling city swells in size around it, like an ever expanding wave.

Islington is an Inner Borough of London, located directly north of, and a stone-throw’s away from, the old City of London. In the early 18th century to the early 19th century, a new style of architecture was born; the Georgian townhouse. Muggle architects were ever more drawn to the ancient Greek and Roman styles; architectural beauty marked by symmetry, proportion and balance. Towns flourished in this period and London Town most of all; Islington was the proud new home of several Georgian townhouses. In 1807, Henry Dupont started work on the square of townhouses that would become Grimmauld Place, on land owned by the Marquess of Colchester. In the spring of 1812, the houses were completed and became highly sough-after, fashionable houses to own by the British aristocracy.

In 1865 Cygnus Black II, at the age of twenty-two, was walking through London after having visited the British Ministry of Magic in Whitehall. He suddenly found himself in a very beautiful and impressive square of townhouses, with a rather lovely and flourishing garden in the centre. He persuaded the Muggle gentleman living in number twelve to pass over the keys and the deeds (and in one night the home seemed to vanish from Muggle existence) and 12 Grimmauld Place remained in the House of Black for 131 years, until 1996. When Orion Black, the husband of Walburga Black who was the granddaughter of Cygnus Black II, lived in number twelve, he added more anti-Muggle protection and made the home Unplottable. When the last remaining male heir, Sirius Black III, passed away, he left it to his godson, Harry Potter.

The home played an important role in the Second Wizarding War; it was the base for the Order of the Phoenix from 1995 to 1996 and when the Golden Trio were on the run, it provided a safe haven for them in the late summer of 1997.

After the war ended, at the end of the summer in 1998, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley moved back into 12 Grimmauld Place as they were soon to begin their careers as Aurors. As Neville Longbottom also started work in the Auror Office, he joined the boys in London. For the next year, they would be the sole occupants of the old townhouse, alongside Kreacher who lived there until he passed away in the winter of 1999. After Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley graduated in the summer of 1999, they joined the boys and three became five. During that summer, Harry and Ginny got engaged, Ron and Hermione decided to find their own flat and Neville, who over the last year of the war became romantically involved with Hannah Abbott, decided to move in with her after the summer. Harry and Ginny discussed moving house but eventually decided, as they had a house inherited from Harry’s Godfather Sirius, and Ron and Hermione were going to be renting a flat in London, that they would stay and make 12 Grimmauld Place their home.

By the time Harry and Ginny’s first born son James came, 12 Grimmauld Place would be unrecognisable from the Pure-Blood style extravagance it used to be when owned by the Black family. The front door was painted a proud Gryffindor red, the silver serpent knocker became a golden phoenix knocker (in honour of the time the house had spent being a home to the Order of the Phoenix) and inside all of the old paintings and tapestries were removed. The history of the home remained in the old wooden floors and the doors and the wide sweeping staircase crawling up the house, but the old ideas were swept out and the home became brighter and more vibrant.

At the top of the home, on the fourth floor, the bedrooms belong to James and Albus. James inhabits the room that used to belong to Sirius (his namesake) and Albus inhabits the room that belonged to Regulus. On the third floor lies the master bedroom where Harry and Ginny reside, a smaller double bedroom that belongs to Lily and a shared bathroom. The second floor is home to Harry’s study, the sitting room (which was used as a playroom when the children were young, and then transitioned into a family room where the Potters love to enjoy each other’s company) and a bathroom. The first floor houses the impressive drawing room where the curtains used to be filled with doxies and an entire wall held a tapestry of the Black family tree but which now holds pictures of the Potter family. The ground floor is where the dining room is found, where many a large family Christmas has been held with much merriment and cheer. In the basement is the kitchen, with its stone floors, living beneath the house above; it seems to be constantly moving, the life-force of the family home.

#harry potter #12 grimmauld place #house of black #trivia

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beebees-photography · 8 months

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Visited Bath yesterday. After The Roman Baths, we had a wander around Bath to soak in some of the sites. We have the Pulteney Bridge (Georgian, one of 4 bridges across the world to have shops across full span on both sides), Bath Abbey, The Circus (Georgian - historic ring of large townhouses), Sally Lunn's Historic Eating House & Museum (Oldest house in Bath - 1483) and The Royal Crescent (Georgian - sweeping crescent of 30 houses)

#photography #architecture #landscape #sept 2023 #sunshine #bath uk #history #georgian era #medieval #Pulteney Bridge #bath abbey #the circus bath #Sally Lunn buns #royal crescent bath

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meadowofbluebells · 6 days

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The Final Contract - Ch. 1

Summary: Janus and Logan Eleazar had no desire to be tutors. Between Janus' magic and Logan's skill with potions, they were hitmen at the top of their game. Even still, in order to kill Lord Edgar Leander, they needed to infiltrate the manor the nobleman lived in. Being tutors was an easy in and should have mattered very little to their over-arching plan. However, their young pupil, Roman Leander, had discovered a secret Janus was keeping from Logan. As a result, Janus found himself focusing more than he should on the boy and the life he led. He couldn't help but think that despite the lavish world Roman lived in, he was one of the most unhappy children he had ever seen.

Notes: This short story is also posted on AO3 under the same username. It was written for the 2023 Sanders Sides Big Bang.

~~~

A man had started following Janus around twenty minutes ago. He’d been returning home from getting dinner when he had first noticed the man tailing him. Up until that point, it had been a fairly typical day. Janus had spent most of his afternoon reading, while Logan poured over his notes at the desk by their bed. As was usual, they had spent hours enjoying each other’s silent company. The only sound in their brick townhouse was the sound of flipping pages and scratching pencils.

However, after Logan had tugged on his hair for the fifth time, surrounded by wads of paper, Janus had finally declared that it was time to eat. He put the book he was reading on the ethics of magic onto his nightstand and went to stand by his husband’s side. Logan had groaned, barely looking up, as Janus proceeded to list off some possible meals. Logan had hummed and hawed over the options presented, eyes scurrying across the page, until Janus rolled his eyes and suggested he go to the store and get cookies. He smirked as Logan perked up at the idea, kissed his husband on the cheek, and slipped from the house. Hopefully, he would get back before Logan had given himself a bald spot.

That had been nearly an hour ago. Janus had noticed the man following him about a block away from the market. He couldn’t get much information from the cursory glances he could manage without alerting the man to the fact that he had been spotted. Still, as Janus weaved his way through the busy city streets, he was able to put a few things together. The man kept tensing his hands. He was nervous, unpractised. None of Janus’ enemies would be senseless enough to send such an unskilled underling to kill him. He adjusted the bags in his arms as they slipped into one of the scarcely populated side streets. Something else had to have made Janus a target. He figured he had a pretty good idea what that was based on the way that the man kept not-so-subtly glaring at the engraved pocket watch that swung at his side.

Janus sighed begrudgingly as he slipped into the shadows of a dark alley and quickly deposited his bags on the ground. Then, with a flair of magic, he ensured that any untrained eye would bounce right off him. There was a tickle in the back of his throat that he studiously ignored with a deep breath of musty air. With that accomplished, he leaned against the dirty wall and waited for his prey to round the corner. The man would only be a few seconds behind him. The fact that he had followed Janus this far from a populated area spoke of his less-than-impressive intelligence. A smart thief would be able to notice the obvious trap they were walking into. Oh well, at the very least, the little stray could provide a bit of entertainment. It had been a few months since he’d had a chance to stretch his claws.

Sure enough, the man appeared within a minute, brandishing a knife that must have been hidden on his person. He was all puffed up, grinding his teeth as he tried to determine which of the shadowy crevices Janus had hidden in.

Janus could only smirk as he watched him pass right by him. There was a fine shiver to the man’s movements that made him look more like a kitten than anything else. Janus would have even laughed if he wasn’t so annoyed at the imbecile disturbing his evening.

Thus, with a sigh, he allowed his glamour to drop and called out in a detached drawl, “Are you, by chance, looking for me?” He lazily flicked some dust off of his black overcoat before crossing his arms and turning an unimpressed expression on the clawless attacker.

The man swung around, eyes dilated in shock as he set his sights on Janus. However, Janus would have to give him credit, he did recover faster than most. Maybe this small obstacle in his day wouldn’t be so boring after all.

“Give me your money, and you won’t get hurt.” Spit flung from the man’s mouth as he spoke, and he tried to puff up even further. His grey cloak floated around his form as he took a menacing step forward. The knife in his hand seemed to shine in the low light of the alley.

Janus sighed at the unoriginal line. Boring it is then. He leaned his weight further to one side, absently analyzing his gloved fingers. “My money? To you?” Janus rolled his eyes. “I think not.”

“I’m not afraid to use this,” The mugger said as he brandished the dagger. He pointed the sharp edge toward Janus.

He watched as the mugger swung the sharp weapon in a slashing motion. “Yes, I am sure you would,” Janus said as he started walking forwards. “However, the way you are gripping it is too high up on the hilt. If you really want to cut a person in a wide arc, you should hold your implement lower down. The way you’re gripping it is more in line with a caveman first learning to hunt.” The attacker took a step back at the predatory look that had entered Janus’ eye. His smirk grew, and his skin buzzed with energy as a hint of panic entered the man’s brown eyes.

“S-shut up!”

“Oh, have I frightened you?” Janus tilted his head innocently as he drew closer. “I guess your incompetence is rather frightening.” The attacker looked side to side, searching for an out. At this, Janus bolted forward, hooked his foot around the man’s ankle, and used the moment of imbalance that followed to slam the man into the brick wall at their side. With the flick of his wrist, he had the sharp edge of a dagger at the man’s neck. He leaned in close, humming in amusement as the man’s breath hitched in fear. “Just a tip, always keep your eyes on your target.” He pressed the knife further into the man’s neck. Warm blood trickled over the edge and slid down Janus’ gloves. He slammed the man’s head against the concrete. “Ah, I don’t know why I offered you that advice, stupid people like you never learn.” He sighed in annoyance and slammed the thief’s head a second time for good measure. The man cried out and slumped forward, breathing but unconscious. His long brown locks were coated with crimson red.

Janus lowered his knife and stepped back, watching disdainfully as the man dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. A puff of dust floated up from the ground. With a grumble, he slipped the dagger back into the hidden compartment in his coat sleeve and looked down at his blood-spattered gloves. “Oh, look what you made me do.” His brows furrowed as he turned to grab his groceries. “If the cookies I bought for Logan are ruined, I’m coming back to finish the job,” he called over his shoulder as he rifled through the bags.

However, as he was digging around, a tremor started up in his hands. He tensed, his eyes widening, as he clutched the wall. “Come on, not now.” His body, however, cared little for his wishes. He hissed in pain as a coughing fit overtook him. He quickly stuffed his face in his elbow as the coughing shook his body. For a minute, it felt like his lungs were rattling loose from their confines.

Once the coughing fit had subsided, he lifted his face to see blood coating his jacket and the taste of iron on his tongue. In a routine manner, he turned further from the food and spat the remaining blood on the ground. The little speckles of red quickly dried in the evening sun. He took a large gulp of air, his shoulders slumping in relief as his beating heart started to fade into its regular rhythm.

With a sigh, Janus turned back to his bags and hefted them into his arms. His body, weakened by the fit, protested the movement. However, Janus, being used to moving through pain, simply gritted his teeth and kept walking. One step in front of the other, that’s all that mattered. As he reached the mouth of the alley, he cloaked himself in a glamor and turned back to look at the prone form wrapped in shadows. With a roll of his eyes, he muttered “Good riddance,” and stepped out into the street. After all, he had a famished husband to feed and a hungry Logan was good for no one, especially when he was caught up in his work. Besides, Janus reasoned, the man would wake up of his own accord eventually. Hopefully, anyhow.

~~~

Janus slammed the door as he entered the two-story house he shared with his husband. He smiled as he was wrapped in the familiar scent of herbs and wood. His shoes scraped against the wooden floor as he shuffled them off and placed them neatly in their regular spot.

“Hey! Don’t slam the door! I just fixed that!” Logan’s voice trailed out from their room.

“That was two months ago now,” Janus called back as he listened to Logan’s chair skid across the ground as he stood up. He put the groceries on a side table and started rifling around for the cookies.

“Just because it was a while ago doesn’t mean we should destroy our own home.” Janus smiled at the familiar response. “Now,” Logan continued as he rounded the corner, “did you get the coo- What happened?”

Janus turned to look at his husband, noting the shocked tone and startled stance. “Nothing much, just a mugger who mistakenly thought I would be easy prey.” He smiled as he stretched his arms out in front of him like a cat stretching after a successful hunt.

Logan quickly stepped forward and grasped Janus’ arms. “Are you alright?” His fingers tightened around the bloody gloves.

Janus smirked. “I am here, aren’t I?”

Logan gave him an unimpressed look as he turned the slightly shorter man back and forth in search of hidden wounds. “Are you sure it wasn’t anyone we know?” His furrowed brow spoke of the way his mind was already compiling lists of possible adversaries.

“He was much too unprepared to be sent by any of our enemies. Unless they sent him specifically for us to dispose of.”

“Is he dead?” His fingers brushed against the mostly dried blood at Janus’ elbow.

Janus froze for just a second before smoothly grasping his husband’s hands with his own. He pulled them up towards the space between their chests, rubbing circles along the knuckles. “He wasn’t worth the effort.”

Logan’s tense form relaxed slightly at the words, before he frowned at Janus’ hands. “He ruined your good gloves.”

Janus looked at the marred yellow fabric covering his hands and shrugged. “You know I always keep a spare.” He leaned up and kissed Logan’s cheek. “Now can we please sit down and eat the cookies I oh-so-valiantly protected from harm?” He sighed humorously as a sparkle entered Logan’s eye. In quick succession, Logan grasped the grocery bags and tugged the shorter man out of the entryway. Janus shook his head and smiled at his husband’s antics, allowing himself to be tugged along.

Soon, they were tucked into the corner of their kitchen, eating a plate full of cookies. The sound of crumbs falling to their plates was broken up by the intermittent sound of children calling out to each other on the street and horses galloping by. It ought to have been peaceful, watching Logan being so caught up in his dessert that he hardly noticed the crumbs falling on his blue coat.

To Janus, however, the cookies tasted more like iron than anything else - a phantom bitter taste that slowly sucked away the sweet flavor. The taste was getting more prominent day by day. It was like an ever-ringing alarm bell, growing louder with each fit - a constant reminder that there would be another attack soon enough. It was getting worse, he knew it was, and it was getting harder and harder to deny. If that fit had occurred even a few minutes earlier, that mugger could have taken him down. His heart raced as he imagined the feeling of the man’s knife lodged between his ribs.

“While you were out, I got word of a new contract.”

Janus blinked. “Huh?” “We got a new job offer.”

“Oh.”

A job. Oh, how desperately he wanted to go. He wanted all of it. Adrenaline racing through his body. The feel of a knife in his hand. The satisfaction of a job well done as he and Logan watched the final moments of a person’s life. Yet, another part of him, the part that tasted blood and was dripping with grief, knew it wasn’t a good idea. He wasn’t strong enough, he could already feel a constant ache in his bones. He didn’t want to put Logan in danger. What would happen if he had another fit at an inopportune moment? Most of all, though, there simply wasn’t enough time. Deep down, he knew that, even if the understanding hurt more than any fit.

Logan raised his eyebrow as he set his glass down. Steam twirled around the top. The scent of mint curled through the air. “I think it would be beneficial for us to take it. The victim is looking for tutors for his son, so we have an easy in.”

“We just finished a contract a couple of months ago.”

“Yes, but we have taken jobs much closer together in the past. There is a multitude of benefits. It involves breaking a rather strong protection spell. A corrupt nobleman i-” “We were starving back then, Logan.” The words were louder than he intended them to be. The two men stared at each other.

There was a momentary lull in the conversation. The clock in the background ticked on, making the seconds that passed seem all the longer. Then, Logan pushed back his chair and stood up. The sound of wood scraping together made Janus wince. “I think your encounter today affected you more than you are willing to admit. If you really don’t want to take the job, we won’t, but I think we should wait until tomorrow to discuss it.” With that, he left the room, leaving Janus with a mind buzzing with thoughts. He clutched his warm glass between his hands, hoping desperately that the tea would wash away the iron.

Eventually, he got himself under control enough to follow his husband to bed. He had expected a cold shoulder, but Logan welcomed him with open arms. Soon, they were wrapped around each other and Logan was fast asleep. Janus, however, was not so lucky. He lay in the dark, begging his body to slip into sleep.

He had tossed and turned for hours before giving up and sneaking out of their bedroom by the dim light of a candle. Quietly, he made his way to the living room. The light bounced off the walls as he moved, catching on the blue fabric of their curtains and the yellow blanket that sat rumpled on the couch. In the nearest corner of the room sat a bookshelf overflowing with books on every topic known to man. Janus moved a number of piles away from where they were haphazardly stacked in front of the shelving unit before dropping to his knees. He took a deep breath before reaching under the bookshelf, pawing away at the dusty ground before his fingers grasped the edge of a cardboard box. He pulled it out and took off the lid. A small puff of dust fell to the ground, the little specks glowing like embers in the candlelight.

Inside the box was a treasure trove of memories. A few of Logan’s notebooks, filled to the brim with scribbled ideas. A photo they took on their wedding day, both of them smiling broadly in their matching suits. The first pair of gloves Logan had gotten him. It was all there, placed with care in the little shoebox - evidence of a life well-lived.

He pulled each item out one by one, giving each the reverence they deserved. They calmed his racing heart, filling him with warmth. It was odd to think of how long it had been since these items were acquired. With them all laid out before him, it felt simultaneously like it was yesterday and eons ago. He could remember huddling together for warmth when they were in their youth - watching their breath freeze in the air to distract themselves from the cold. The adoration he felt as he watched Logan scribble away, mind lost in a complex web of brilliance. The hope for the future they felt on their wedding day, both of them wearing dashing grey suits, smiling widely as they stood for a photo. It was all still there, swirling within him to create the unbreakable bond that they shared.

Yet, the memorabilia, and the emotions they evoked, also opened up a chasm of pain. It ripped through his heart, making him gasp at the weight of the emotions released. Anguish. Grief. Anger. It all tangled up within him, encroaching on his memories and tainting them with rot, demanding to be acknowledged.

“I’m dying.” The whispered words felt so foreign on his tongue. Yet, they were also a relief, finally free from the confines of his mind. He could feel it in every bone of his body. A certainty that horrified him. He could see it in his mind’s eye, a doorway to the other side, light flickering from the crack in the door. “Why can’t I just say that? Go in there, wake him up, and te-” his voice shook as tears started to prick at his eyes, “t-tell h-him I’m d-dying.” He wiped at his eyes. “Dear gods above, I’m dying.” He quickly covered his mouth to smother the broken sob that tried to break free.

He clutched the box tighter, curling around it like a shield. The items within were faded with age, yet at that moment they felt like a lifeline. They were a reminder of the life he had led and the love that he shared. At the same time, they were a reminder of all that was lost. He was supposed to lead a long life with his husband, loving him for decades more. Yet, there, in the dark of night, all of that was ripped away from him. By god, he was abandoning Logan, the other half of his soul. The man who had comforted him and cared for him. Death was going to take him away and leave Logan all alone. This was the end of their happily ever after, and Logan didn’t even know it. This was the end of everything.

~~~

They had completed their first job during their teen years. They were young but effective. It had been a whirlwind couple of weeks. Creating plans, choosing the means of death, ending a life, covering their tracks, and so on. By the time they got home that night and Janus had dropped the glamor protecting them from view, they were absolutely spent. Their muscles were sore and their eyes half-lidded. Yet, Janus could not get his heart to stop beating. Despite the desperate need for sleep, he couldn’t imagine lying down and closing his eyes. He tried to regulate his breathing. He needed to calm down. He needed to st-

“Are you crying?” Logan’s voice seared through his overstretched mind; concerned and soft. His eyes darted up to watch Logan’s expression as he reached up to touch his face. Logan’s brow furrowed and he stepped toward Janus. “You are. Jan-”

“Leave me alone,” Janus hissed as he stepped back, rotting floorboards crunching under his feet. His heart raced all the wilder as he curled into himself. He blinked rapidly to dispel the flood of tears. His breath was coming out in puffs, pale white in the heatless room.

“Hey, Janus, it’s ok.” Logan telegraphed his movements as he slowly stepped forward again and tugged Janus close, wrapping him in his arms. He gently rubbed soothing circles into the sobbing teen’s back. His hands seemed all the warmer against Janus’ chilled form. “It’s ok.”

“There was so much blood.” Janus buried his nose into Logan’s neck, his breath hitching as his vision blurred.

“I know.” He gently combed his fingers through Janus’ hair. His voice was steady and calm, pulling Janus from the panic of his own mind word by word.

“He looked so pale.”

“I know, it’s alright. We knew this was going to be hard.” He pulled back from Janus, reaching up to wipe the tears from under his eyes. He held the other teen’s gaze in the dull blue light streaming into their decrepit apartment. His smile was soft and gentle. “But now that it’s over, we can go collect our money. Get some food, put some money towards getting a better place.”

Janus snorted as he rubbed at his reddening eyes. “Somewhere where the neighbors don’t throw empty beer bottles at the wall. I wish we had been hired to kill them instead. I would happily stab them.” He glared at the wall covered in peeling paint, wishing their drunkard neighbors could feel the weight of his hatred.

Logan laughed at the scowl that was forming on Janus’ face. “We could even buy some cookies.”

Janus rolled his eyes and gave a fragile smile, turning back to look at Logan with his chilled cheeks and pink nose. “Are cookies all you can think about?”

“No, I have my thoughts categorized based on importance,” Logan said in an analytical tone. His eyes became glazed as that brilliant mind started working. “While sweets are probably higher than is optimal for my health, it isn’t at the top.”

“Oh yeah? What is then?”

Logan shook his head, once again focusing on Janus’ disheveled form. A delicate smile softened his face as he leaned forwards and kissed Janus’ forehead. “You,” he murmured. He smiled lightly as he pulled back to look at Janus’ blushing face. The flustered man’s mouth moved without forming any words before he slumped forward and buried his face in Logan’s neck again. Logan hummed gently and curled his arms around the other teen. “Are you ok now?”

“N-No,” Janus whispered in a shaky voice as he grasped tightly on Logan’s blood-stained jacket, “but, I will be”. His hands shook, pulling on the already fragile seams. They stood like that as the minutes ticked by, taking strength from each other’s presence.

~~~

Janus smiled weakly at the memory, his cheeks still sticky with tears. After that mission, Logan had laid in bed all night with Janus, refusing to sleep so that he could wake him up from nightmares. While others’ death no longer scared Janus, used to all the indecencies that came along with it, he still cherished that night. There was a part of him, a large part of him, that wanted to cling to Logan again. To lay his cheek on his chest and listen to that soothing heartbeat. Yet, even as his brain screamed at him to go and curl up in his husband’s arms, to tell him the truth, he couldn’t bring his body to cooperate. A part of him felt like his rapidly beating heart should be hearable by everyone in the world. However, his highly trained ears heard nothing but the dripping wax of the candle and the occasional creak of the floor beneath him.

His hands tensed around the memory box. He couldn’t tell Logan. It simply wasn’t possible. He couldn’t steal his happiness just yet. Instead, he would ensure that they spent their final months together doing what made Logan happy. One final contract. One final adventure. Then he would go and everything would be, well, not perfect, maybe not even okay, but manageable, and manageable is just what a dying man needs.

Written By: meadowofbluebells

#writing #creative writing #female writers #sanders sides #roman sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #original character #logan sanders/janus sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders side fic #fanfic

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envihellbender · 1 year

Note

Logan beating Roman into unconsciousness, Kendall finding Roman hours later

Characters: Roman Roy, Kendall Roy (Succession)

Content: Parental abuse, self harm mention, hurt/comfort

The first clue that something had happened was the quiet, eerie silence when Kendall exited the elevator of the Roy townhouse. He’d only been back from college for two days but this was the first time he walked in and Shiv and Roman hadn’t been shouting, laughing, arguing, or yelling at the help for something. He couldn’t hear his dad barking orders and telling his siblings to shut up. The help weren’t even around. He looked around the foyer to no avail, he hurried up the stairs to the main drawing room. When he got there he felt his lips grow dry as the panic set in, slumped on the sofa - his torso gripping on to the cushion, his knees awkwardly positioned on the floor and his head resting on a cushion that had been pulled out of it’s place was his younger brother Roman. Blood had stained the side of his face, his eyebrow, his nose, and his lips. Most of his skin was a sore red, showing bruising was forming. His shoulder was disjointed and his eyes were closed. Kendall, found he had frozen in panic as he stared, finally he snapped out of it and hurried to Roman’s side. He rubbed his back saying his name quietly to no avail.

“Rome? Roman? Come on, bro,” Kendall spluttered, his voice getting increasingly louder. He shook Roman by the sleeve of his black Nine Inch Nails t-shirt. Kendall exhaled in relief when he heard a whining groan. Roman’s eyes fluttered open before he winced.

“What? Go away,” Roman mumbled, pressing his face in the cushion. His vision was blurred and there was a heavy ache in his temples.

“No, Rome, we’ve got to get you to the hospital, okay?” Kendall pushed, rubbing Roman’s back.

“What- no- I don’t- what time is it?” He mumbled, struggling to pull himself up.

“About 9.” Kendall didn’t let go of Roman, his tensed arm on his back as his breathing quickened.

“PM, right?”

“Yeah-”

“Well, that’s something.”

“How long have you been out?”

“Erm, saw dad at six-”

“You’ve been unconscious since six?” Kendall said raising his voice in alarm.

“No, no. No, that’d be really really bad. Fell unconscious, woke up he was gone. Dragged self over to the couch. Now it’s sleep time.” Roman yawned, and then gasped and clenched his teeth in pain. “I may have lost a tooth.”

“No, no, no,” Kendall said pulling on Roman’s arm to urge him to his feet. “Now it’s hospital time.”

“I’m fine, I just need sleep.”

“Sleeping with a concussion is a good way to end up in a coma.”

“Maybe that won’t be the worst thing in the world, sleeping forever,” Roman mumbled. He knew he was being dramatic and feeling sorry for himself, but Kendall’s hand screwing into a fist on his back, bunching up his t-shirt told him immediately that had been a mistake.

“Don’t even joke about that, bro.” Kendall’s voice had sharpened, it sounded as if he was barely moving his teeth as he spoke.

“Ugh, god don’t be- fine, fine,” Roman groaned. He pushed himself up, and away from the sofa. He was wincing and swaying as he did, his vision blurred and his surroundings unsteady. Kendall immediately took his arm to steady him but Roman shrugged away from him. “I can do it. Jesus.”

“What happened? What did dad do?”

“Decided it was time for a game of Whack-a-Roman.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no.” Between the sore skin, blood, and bruising, Roman’s face burned red in embarrassment. “I mean… I can’t walking on my right side. And my shoulder really hurts. I may have lost a tooth. And my vision is blurry. But. That’s normal, right?”

“I’m gonna kill dad,” Kendall responded instantly, before Roman had even finished speaking. “Soon as I get you to a hospital I’m gonna beat the old man so hard he has a stroke.”

“Or we could not do that. Because dad having a stroke sounds like something that would make this situation not about me.” When Roman heard Kendall let out a reluctant laugh he calmed slightly, Kendall laughing and not angry was what he needed right now. “Besides, it’s my fault. I was being annoying. It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

“Well yeah, you’re always annoying,” Kendall said with a forced smile. “You have a Nobel prize in being the annoying little brother you still don’t deserve to have dad hurt you.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Rome. Come on. What happened?”

“Alright, alright,” Roman answered, giving in. “He erm- we- well, you see. So, I get home today and erm, whilst one of the Help was tidying my room- you know… They found something. Showed dad. Dad decided he wanted to spend his ‘five minutes of parenting a month’ points.”

“What did they find?”

“Erm. Three razor blades with dried blood on them, and a bag of skunk. Don’t think he cared about that one though.” Roman ran his fingers through his hair anxiously, wincing as he tried raising his arm and he began biting his nails.

“Why do you-” Kendall began with panic rising inside of him. It’d been two years since dad caught fifteen year old Roman with fresh self harm scars at Thanksgiving. It seemed family history was repeating itself. “Rome. Have you been-”

“Ugh. Dude. I’ve just had the shit kicked out of me by dad so maybe now isn’t time for that talk again.” Roman pouted and visibly sulked as he spoke curling away from Kendall.

“I just- are you- you’re right. I’m gonna get you to the hospital, okay? Can you stand?”

“I mean, yeah. But I’ll fall.”

“It’s okay, I got you,” Kendall said, ducking underneath Roman’s arm and helping him to his feet.

#envi writes #Roman roy #kendall Roy #succession #abuse #hurt/comfort #fanfic #succession fanfic #gif

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blueiskewl · 1 year

Video

House of the Vettii

Pompeii home owned by former slaves reopens.

The House of the Vettii, known as Pompeii's Sistine Chapel, has reopened to the public for the first time in 20 years after an extensive restoration.

The house, built in the second century BC, was buried in the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in AD79.

It was named after its owners, the Vettii brothers, two former slaves.

Aulus Vettius Conviva and Aulus Vettius Restitutus got wealthy by selling wine after they were freed.

Adorned in mythological frescos and phallic sculptures, the house reopened on Tuesday after years of restoration work.

Excavation works carried out between late 1894 and early 1896 showed that the ancient Roman townhouse, built on top of the ruins of an earlier house, had survived the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.

"The owners, freedmen and ex-slaves, are the expression of a social mobility that would have been unthinkable two centuries earlier," said Gabriel Zuchtriegel, director of the Archaeological Park of Pompeii.

He added that the brothers became rich by trading agricultural products from the surrounding area in Pompeii - but added that prostitution was also practiced in their house.

In the house, the Greek god of fertility and abundance, Priapus, is depicted in a fresco weighing his own phallus against a bag of money.

Ornate furnishings inside the house, as well as Greek and Roman sculptures in bronze and marble, offer a glimpse into the lifestyle of the elite.

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raeflora · 1 year

Text

chair headcanons that no-one asked for but you're getting

they decided to start trying for a baby just after blair's birthday during their first year of marriage and they actually conceived henry on their first anniversary, so whenever someone asks blair what chuck gave her that year she says henry

they viewed the townhouse they would eventually buy on valentine's day 2013 as they (obviously) needed an actual home to live in, and what's more romantic than finding your dream home with the love of your life

for their first summer as a married couple chuck takes blair to tuscany, as he owes her a trip there, and paris by way of lyon to see harold and roman since they weren't at their wedding, and then they spend the other half of the summer in the hamptons

blair always knew from the moment she found out she was having henry that they would parent him in the ways that she and chuck weren't, and they were both prepared to do whatever it took so henry knows how loved he is. and yes, chuck bass changed diapers

chuck still doesn't really like celebrating his birthday but once henry started making him birthday cards and being excited to celebrate him it made him feel more positive towards it, even if it's only because seeing henry so happy makes him happy. blair still doesn't push him to do anything beyond having a family dinner or buying him a small gift because she knows he'll never want more than that

they spend their wedding night in blair's bedroom as there wasn't exactly time to book somewhere else, and they don't emerge until the next afternoon. dorota leaves their breakfast outside the door and deliberately cleans far, far away from blair's room

they decide to try for a second baby in the spring of 2017, when henry's 2 and a half, and blair also decides they need to redecorate their home. they spend the actual renovation time in the hamptons as they were going to spend part of their summer there anyway, so it made more sense to just do it then

two weeks before dan and serena's bachelor/bachelorette parties henry walks in on chuck and blair in bed one morning without knocking (and about five minutes away from doing anything) and blair gets so stressed out about traumatising him that she barely kisses chuck in front of him, which slightly disrupts making their second child

(when it's dan's bachelor party serena manages to convince blair that this happening when henry's 3 is better than when he could actually remember it. when chuck gets back blair practically jumps on him. they barely make it to their bed)

when they decide to move to paris chuck finds the perfect townhouse for them, as they had an apartment but not a home within distance of the perfect elite french school for their children or blair's parisian atelier

blair thought it would be funny if they conceived their second child at dan and serena's wedding since you can't really have meaningless wedding sex in your own home, but they roleplay it anyway

whenever chuck or blair are away for work their children get in bed with whoever's still home so they don't get lonely

they actually get pregnant with their second child a few weeks after dan and serena's wedding. henry gets concerned when blair's "sick" at thanksgiving but when they tell him at christmas that he's getting a baby brother or sister he's very excited

(he doesn't know how the baby got inside her though, or what it has to do with his daddy, but he's very enthusiastic about talking to them)

blair stops writing in her diaries after they get married, but she still keeps notes on their sex life because there's so much to keep track of

their second child is a girl called grace eleanor and she looks like both of them, just like henry. henry himself takes his big brother role very seriously, and when they bring her home he basically shadows them both to make sure she's ok. chuck and blair think it's the cutest thing ever

#chuck x blair #chuck and blair #blair x chuck #blair waldorf #chuck bass #henry bass #mine: headcanons #dailygossipgirl #gossip girl #I'm probably gonna do more posts like this #my favourite family 🥺

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 1 year

Note

Tell us an idea for a longfic you want to write in the future.

I'm not sure if I'd ever write it, but @theeternalspace helped me brainstorm a fic involving Roman and Virgil. Like okay. You know that fandom trope in late '00s to mid 2010s fics where suddenly one of the characters is inexplicably a cat and the other character unknowingly takes them in? Yeah that but it's a superhero AU and Roman is a wannabe superhero (with no powers) and Virgil is his arch nemesis (really, a worrywart w/ superpowers who is trying to keep Roman from hurting himself).

One day, Roman runs into an actual supervillain--a crazy cat lady that has been turning people into cats. At some point Roman gets poked with the "makes people turn into cats" serum and manages to flee the crazy cat lady's grasp, but well. He still turns into a cat.

So he's exhausted from the ordeal and distraught not only failing to defeat the villain but also turning tail (haha get it?) and running away. He tries making it back to his own apartment, but ends up passing out underneath a porch of a townhouse to escape the rain (oh yeah, it's supposed to be raining).

He awakes up to find that some kind person took him inside a new toasty house and placed him on some soft blankets and what the FUCK why is it his arch nemesis, does he know who Roman actually is??

Meanwhile Virgil, absolutely NO clue that's Roman, saw a weak orange tabby stray cat on his doorstep and took him inside with the intention of taking him to the vet (there's an odd collar that looks more like a human necklace, but eh. the cat could be micro-chipped). He's had cats before so like, he's not surprised to see the orange tabby acting wary and hiding from him.

Anyways ofc Roman doesnt have a micro-chip but Virgil ends up keeping him and shenanigans occur from there. Mainly Roman slowly warming up to Virgil and realizing that he might not be an actual bad guy to begin with. And yes, the crazy cat lady's plots are foiled and Roman gets to be human again, happy ending and all.

#kat answers #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton would be the manager/owner of a coffeeshop virgil and roman both visit #Virgil is actually close friends with Patton but somehow Roman and Virgil just comically miss one another when they visit the coffeeshop #Remus and Logan are Roman's roommates who definitely freak when Roman goes missing #Janus is Virgil's older brother who does crimes and is the arch nemesis to the actual superhero of the city (Thomas)#Janus and Thomas have one of those hero villain relationships where they both want the same thing #but the hero (thomas) disagrees with the villain's methods #so sometimes they do end up working together (namely trouncing other unsavory villains from their city)#and sometimes Thomas turns a blind eye to Janus's operations

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nepokisses · 1 year

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im nayeon. she / her. cis woman. ›spotted at the met steps , dasom ‘summer’ lee , most likely listening to cozy by beyonce with their airpods pro . the twenty-eight year old gained quite a reputation , known to be -naive yet +confident to anyone who knows them . you'll easily spot them when you hear about sweet, bunny like smiles, the sound of high heels clicking on marble floors, and pink diamond studded microphones , followed by daisy love eau so sweet by marc jacobs . latest nepoupdates article talks about latest the pop princess having to postpone her upcoming tour , but i guess any reputation is good reputation . ( tj , 21 , they / them , est , no triggers . )

B A S I C S

full name: lee dasom. nicknames: summer. gender: cis woman. pronouns: she/her. sexuality: pansexual. age: 28. date of birth: june 27, 1994. zodiac sign: cancer. birthplace: manhattan, new york ( lived until age 13 ). current location: manhattan, new york. residence: she lives in a luxury townhouse on east 64th street. occupation: former k-pop idol / current singer-songwriter, actress & model. languages spoken: english, korean, japanese, conversational spanish and brazilian portuguese to communicate with south american fans ( one of her largest fanbases ).

A P P E A R A N C E

faceclaim: im nayeon. height: 5’3. build: slim. eyes: brown. hair: naturally dark brunette, but dyes it different colors, mostly different variations of brown. piercings: belly button, standard earlobe piercings. tattoos: three small hearts behind her ear, cherries on her right ankle, a kiss mark on her right inner wrist, her parents' birthdates in roman numerals on her shoulder, matching tattoo with best friend on left ankle, butterflies going up her spine. other distinguishing features: gummy smile, bunny teeth. style: hyper-feminine. likes to wear bright colors, dresses and skirts. can be seen wearing heels the majority of the time, no matter the occasion, mostly due to her short height.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

traits: (+) confident, spontaneous, friendly/social, detail-oriented. (-) naive, sensitive, impulsive, anxious. mental health: anxiety disorder, depression; medicated for both. physical health: good, average. likes: sweets, playing music loudly and singing along, karaoke, fashion, art, horror movies, amusement parks, dance clubs, smoking marijuana. dislikes: arrogance, confrontation, people with no sympathy or empathy for others, stan culture, being babied, being controlled, being manipulated. fears: losing her career, the passing of friends or loved ones, the dark. phobias: insects, drowning, heights. hobbies: karaoke, late night drives, drawing, painting. skills: roller skating, cooking, art, songwriting, singing, dancing, acting, modeling. quirks: standing on top of things to be taller, subconsciously standing on her toes to be taller, humming under her breath, singing at random times, twirling her hair.

F A V O R I T E S

ice cream flavour: strawberry. time of the day / night: late night / very early morning, between 11pm and 3am. weather: fall weather. breakfast food: pancakes, bacon, bagels, danishes. dinner food: anything seafood, tteokbokki, ramen, beef. colours: lots of red and pink. music: mariah carey, beyoncé, britney spears, ailee, taeyeon, bibi, raveena, fka twigs, rihanna, lady gaga, HER, ari lennox, lizzo, zayn, lil nas x.

M I S C E L A N E O U S

a cherished item: trinkets gifted to her by loved ones, a picture of her and her parents on a trip to disney when she was 10, a locket given to her by her first significant other, gifts given to her by fans. first love ( celeb crush ): lenny kravitz usual mood: upbeat, happy. 1 thing they want to do / experience before they die: go on a year long vacation with friends and explore the world. character inspo: blossom ( powerpuff girls ), alice cullen ( twilight saga ), luna lovegood ( harry potter series ), elle woods ( legally blonde ).

B A C K G R O U N D

childhood: dasom was born in manhattan, new york to a record producer father and vocal coach / former broadway star mother, so music has always been apart of her life. she's the eldest of three children, two girls including herself and a younger brother. she spent her childhood in elite private schools and being vocally trained by her own mother. when she reached the age of twelve, she was scouted by a korean music label that wanted her to be a trainee for them. with her parents' support, she moved to south korea at the age of thirteen and started training. while living in seoul, she stayed with her mother's parents until moving into the idol dorms.

adolescence: dasom debuted at the young, ripe age of fifteen; though she wasn't the youngest in her group. despite her young age, she was one of two main vocalists, apart of the group's dance line, and the center/face of the group. her group quickly gained success and notoriety, not just in south korea, but in asia as a whole ( think girls' generation type vibes ), and with their rising popularity, dasom's personal popularity with the general public grew even more. by the time she was seventeen, her face was plastered on billboards in both south korea and japan ( the country with their second largest fanbase ). but with her popularity, came a lot of hate and negativity as well. there's never any good without bad, and she was experiencing that firsthand.

early twenties: her group was at the height of their career, and then it all went to shit when dasom was twenty years old. she went through a pretty rough break up with her first significant other, and in their anger, they leaked nude photos of her to netizens and the scandal took south korea by a storm. she went from being a national sweetheart to public enemy number one. and the worst part about it was that she was being blamed for it, and her ex didn't get nearly as much hate as she did. although they weren't in the public eye as much as her, they were still known because they were apart of an extremely wealthy family. she just assumed that their wealth and family's influence helped them get off scot-free. meanwhile, her career as a k-pop idol was practically ruined. her company dropped her before the group could suffer anymore than it already had, leaving her jobless.

but she was still determined to continue making music, despite being virtually blacklisted in the k-pop industry. she hopped on a plane back to the states and used connections through her parents in order to secure herself a record deal. on her twenty first birthday the following year in 2015, she released her first solo album. that was also the year that she began her acting career. although she doesn't dabble in it too much, it is something that she enjoys doing every so often.

from that point onwards, it seemed as though everything that dasom, now known as summer, touched turned to gold. she was becoming a household name due to her music, and she loved that people seemed to enjoy her so much. however, what she didn't love, was the negativity that came along with it. being the positive, upbeat and slightly naive, woman that she is, it was easy for her to fall into the trap of consuming online comments and allow it to affect her mental health and stability. and while she tries to keep her positive mindset, it does get overwhelming for her at times. more often than not, actually.

currently: now at the age of twenty-eight, she's still making music, acting and apart of the elite world. it's still taking a toll on her mental health wise, but she's been going to therapy and taking medications for her anxiety and depression, which helps keeps her on the right path - most of the time. she has her days where she falls into a slump and doesn't want to face the world. that's when she dives headfirst into her music and pours her all into her art.

C O N N E C T I O N S

friend / relative of her ex that leaked her nudes: self explanatory.

ex ( multiple ): dasom is a lover through and through, so it's not surprising that she's had a few relationships here and there. some lasting longer than others.

fwb ( multiple ): a girl's got needs, and this person never fails to fulfill them whenever she calls on them and vice versa.

inspo: dasom's written songs about / for this person before.

past / future music collaborators: self explanatory.

best friend / platonic soulmate: the peanut butter to dasom's jelly. the patrick to dasom's spongebob. the milk to dasom's cereal.

bad influence: self explanatory.

backbone builder: this person is responsible for helping build up dasom's backbone and help her be less averse to confrontation and stand up for herself more.

tug-of-war: these two go back and forth. one minute they're going on outings and dates and are all cuddled up, then the next they're arguing and fussing. a hot and cold type of relationship that dasom can't seem to get out of. they care for each other, but whenever they try to be anything more than friends, it falls apart.

practically roommates ( multiple ): dasom has a large townhouse in the city, but she hates being by herself. with that being the case, she's always inviting this person over to spend time with her so she won't be alone.

music confidant ( multiple ): someone that dasom works on music with / shares demos of songs she's recorded. she gets ideas from them for her unfinished songs, and she's always willing to give them a helping hand with music when they hit rough spots with their creativity too.

C A R E E R

music ( albums ): yours truly ( 2015 ), my everything ( 2017 ), dangerous woman ( 2020 ), sweetener ( 2022 ).

music ( singles ): the way ; baby i ( 2015 ), right there [ album: yours truly ]; problem ( 2016 ), break free ; bang bang ( 2017 ), love me harder ; one last time [ album: my everything ] ( 2018 ), focus [ non-album single ] ; dangerous woman ( 2019 ), into you ; side to side ( 2020 ) ; everyday [ album: dangerous woman ] ( 2021 ), no tears left to cry ( 2022 ), breathin [ album: sweetner ] ( 2023 ) upcoming: god is a woman ( unknown date, 2023 ).

acting ( television ): scream queens as sonya / chanel #2 ( 2015 ), hairspray live! as penny ( 2016 ).

acting ( movies ): underdogs as laura, voice role ; zoolander 2 as latex bdsm ( 2016 ), don't look up as riley bina ( 2021 ), wicked: part 1 as glinda ( 2024, filming ), wicked: part 2 as glinda ( 2025, filming ).

ambassadorships: versace, givenchy, chanel, tiffany & co.

#nepofm.intro #mental health tw #( 𝗗𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗠: intro post. )

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