#rossimon

[fistfuloflightning]

Rossimon pirate x merman AU for Mermay <3

[fistfuloflightning]

Rossimon art from circa 2015-16 lol

[fistfuloflightning]

[fistfuloflightning]

Viral is the only one who is an unwilling witness to it, the sounds carrying to his sharp ears. A scream of anger, grief. Shattering glass. A terrible silence eventually broken by muffled sobs. He turns to walk back the way he came, but something keeps him in place.

And so he’s there when she eventually emerges, and it doesn’t take a genius to tell that something has gone horribly wrong. The front of her uniform whites is no longer white and there are mirrors in her knuckles, reflecting white and red and pain.

When Rossiu’s eyes meet his, they grow wide and horrified. He knows she doesn’t want to be found here like this, so he guides her away, planning on finding the nearest janitor to clean away the cause of her distress.

It unnerves the beastman when she doesn’t fight him and instead withdraws into herself.

He’s the one who scouts out empty hallways as he guides her back to the living quarters she shares with Simon. The last thing she wants, Viral knows, is running into someone when she’s in this state. She’s broken, inside and out.

.*.

He can smell it on her. The blood. The tears. Even through a fresh change of clothes and the soap she’d rubbed her skin raw with, he can smell what she has just lost. Something so small it was hardly there, so small and so wonderful. But Rossiu is stone-faced on the bridge, unmovable.

At her side, her fingers curl into a silent fist, knuckles torn and bloody and still glittering with shards of mirror.

When he finally catches her eye, he can tell she knows he knows. But she turns a silent look of challenge on him, and to his surprise he backs down. This isn’t his battle. He helped her the only way he could, and now it’s no longer his decision. He knows the the pain of having something so precious slip through his claws.

He once had dreams of family.

Hers were much more fully realized.

But there’s no use for what-ifs. He’d drive himself further into insanity if he ever took that road. Rossini’s too much like him, in that way. She’ll never look back, never confront the raw grief. Instead she’ll turn it inward and bury it deep within her marrow where it will never show.

And what Simon doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

[lilycove]

composure

[lilycove]

night in / night out

old stuff from vday... woo! read zero’s companion fic!! 

[venomrot]

reflected in starlight

[sugoiberry]

So I’m gonna come clean and admit that I’m a hopeless Simon/Rossiu shipper. I honestly don’t think there are many of us out there. I was rewatching TTGL and dying inside, so my good friend @turbulentwanderer took pity on my shameful, sinner heart and gave me fic prompts. I have no idea how many of these there are gonna be.

Prompt #1: “Ok, we'll start simple. Simon gets sick so Rossiu has to take care of him.”

Here goes nothing.

“Simon.”

The pile of blankets shifted slightly, but there was no response. Rossiu sighed. He was going to assume that the motion meant his friend was still alive somewhere under the mounds of fabric and turned back to watch the ceramic bowl slowly spin in the yellow light of the microwave. 

A pitiful, nasally whine from the bed was almost drowned out by the obnoxious beeping of the microwave. Rossiu grabbed some paper towels to wrap around the edges of the bowl so it wouldn’t burn his hands and walked over to the bunk, nudging the colorful, Simon-shaped lump with his knee. 

The blankets wiggled again before the gundam design on the comforter crumpled and folded in on itself and a hand reached out, waving blindly about for the bowl. Rossiu tisked.

“Absolutely not,” he said, and the hand was replaced by glaring eyes where the face of the mecha once was. “Sit up. I’m not having a repeat of the hot chocolate incident.”

With a petulant groan and a long snort as he tried and failed to keep his nose from running, Simon sat up, the blanket dragging down his hair to fall to his shoulders, his blue hair in a static halo of blue. Rossiu’s face scrunched in distaste at the noise, but at least Simon was upright and could be (relatively) trusted with scalding hot chicken noodle soup. He placed the bowl on the side table and grabbed the box of tissues. Two quick jerks of his wrist had him a square of tissue, which were then pressed to Simon’s nose

Simon squawked and flailed, but his arms were still encased in his blankets and he was helpless as Rossiu pinched his nostrils. 

“Blow,” Rossiu said sternly.

“’es, Mom.” Or at least that’s what Simon tried to say but it comes out sounding more like “bomb” than anything, so he rolls his eyes instead and complies. 

“Seriously, though, that was a bit much,” Simon mumbled, leaning to the side to grab the soup off the side table, the drape of covers coming with him on his shoulders like a cape. He watched as Rossiu stepped on the pedal of the trash can to open the lid, and scoops a heaping spoonful of soup into his mouth. 

“It comes naturally after growing up with my foster siblings,” Rossiu said with a shrug, tossing the tissue and then turning to the sink to wash his hands. “Gimmy and Darry only just turned seven. I’ve changed enough diapers and wiped enough noses, it’s not a big deal.” He finished wiping his hands on the dishtowel and turned back to lean against the counter, using a quick shake of his head and a huff of air to get his hair out of his eye. He always had such trouble getting that one forelock to stay pulled back in his ponytail.

Simon hummed around a mouthful before swallowing. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

Rossiu crossed his arms, tapping his fingers on his elbow and watching his roommate eat. Three years of college and he and Simon had stayed rooming together. They had been thrown together at random their freshman year and it had worked out, so they decided it was best to stick together than risk another stranger. Despite the disaster that was spring semester of sophomore year. Simon’s girlfriend, Nia, had been...a bit more of handful than initially anticipated and he and Simon had practically come to blows. It was like any little thing could set off an explosive argument between them that semester, and they had eventually spent most of the semester out of the room. Simon would stay over at Nia’s and Rossiu would sleep at Kinon and Kimbley’s apartment in turns.

And then Nia had transferred, Rossiu had felt like a colossal dick about how he had acted, and things, surprisingly, went back to normal. Well, disregarding Simon punching him the face right before last summer break. But water under the bridge and all that.

Simon was saying something to him and Rossiu refocused with a blink. 

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Thanks,” Simon said, glancing up sheepishly through his bangs. “For taking care of me and all. Don’t know what I’d do without you, Rossiu,” he grinned, and Rossiu’s chest clenched.

Oh, yeah. That. The other reason last semester had been a powder keg, at least on Rossiu’s end. The nasty things Rossiu had said to Simon, the contempt Rossiu felt every time he had to listen to Simon wax poetic about Nia’s eyes or hair or smile, and how long it took Rossiu to realize what his seemingly directionless anger really was. 

He kept his face perfectly blank, a skill he’d honed last semester and over the summer to be flawless, as Simon slurped up the last of his soup. He had abandoned his spoon in favor of drinking the leftover broth straight from the bowl and Rossiu’s palms itched to run his hands through his friend’s hair, card his fingers through that piece above his ear than never seemed to quite lie flat. 

Rossiu straightened abruptly and snatched the bowl out of Simon’s hands. 

“You wouldn’t last very long, I’d bet,” he said, forcing levity into his voice as he turned to rinse the bowl in the sink and grab some NyQuil from the cabinet. “I have an essay to finish, so I need to head to the library. Try not to drown in your own snot while I’m gone.”

He turned back to find Simon striping his shirt over his head, and nearly dropped the glass of water in his hand. With a scowl, he shoved it into Simon’s hands instead, along with the shiny green gel pill. 

“Take that, and get some rest,” he huffed, shoving some things into his messenger bag without really paying attention. He’d finished the essay three days ago, but Simon didn’t need to know that. His roommate’s eyelids were already drooping, anyway, and he didn’t seem to notice.

Simon yawned and pulled the covers up to his chin. “Sir, yes sir,” he said, drifting off almost immediately. “Thanks, buddy, you’re the best.” And then he was asleep.

Rossiu watched his friend for a moment, heart feeling like it was climbing into his throat. “You’re welcome. Simon.”

He shut the door behind him with a soft click.