#Roman is so fucked up it's not even funny but at least he'd be a decent dad to his kid

[masquenoire]

That feel when your muse is capable of committing the nastiest, most horrific deeds but simultaneously can be wholesome af. Roman would absolutely be the type of parent who'd stop in the middle of torturing somebody just because his child woke up crying due to a nightmare, clean himself up and go comfort them until they fall back to sleep again before heading back to the torture chamber and picking up the scalpel while being all "Sorry about that, remind me again where we left off?" as though nothing happened. 🥲

[richeeduvie]

Corny wanting but how would Roman and Lalo react if Baby/Princesa woke him up in the middle of the night because they had a nightmare.

Kinda can see Lalo teasing her first but eventually calming her down and getting her back to sleep.

Roman……Roman is the one that I’m not really sure about

Lalo's teasing the shit out of her.

"Stop laughing. Please."

"Ay, Princesa - I'm sorry." He's not. Not really, but he goes to cuddle her. To wrap his arms, strong and pulsing around her frame. Make his girl feel like she can't go anywhere. Cause it seems like she wants to squirm away from him, so embarrassed. But of course he was going to laugh, and of course she was going to wake him up, cause Princesa needs Lalo. "You're just funny. My funny girl-hey, stop trying to run away from me."

Princesa whines, but eventually slumps in Lalo's arms. "It was just...they haven't been that terrifying in awhile."

Lalo's smile comes down softly, his face in her neck.

"It's alright, Princesa. They're just dreams. And you've got no one here but me to protect you from that head of yours. You're all good, hm?"

"...I think so."

Lalo breathes her in, hugs her a little tighter - taking bits of air out of her. He'd take everything from Princesa if it meant that she could be with him here, just here forever. That'd be right for him.

He smooches Princesa's cheek.

"I think you know so, now let's get you back to sleep."

"Okay."

And so they do, or she does, at least.

"Lalo."

Lalo laughs against her skin instead.

"I'm sorry - you just know how to be cute, poking me awake. First time I was gonna sleep through the night too."

"I'm sorry!"

"Don't have to be sorry, Princesa. I'm just saying, the one thing you know is how to be needy. Why is that something to cry about?"

"It's not something to laugh about."

Lalo's smile drops quick. Princesa is tired, so she's grumpy. She mms when he pinches her shoulder.

"Go to bed before you get even more of an attitude."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Roman's less...kind, to put it kindly.

"...You woke me up so what...I can eat you out?"

"Rome, I just need someone to sit with me. I've never had a dream like that."

"I'm gonna be fucking tired and pissy and you woke me up to wallow in the aftermath of your nightmare? Are we not gonna fuck?"

Baby's sitting crisscross-applesauce. She tilts her head and sighs softly. Roman rubs his eyes like a child as he sits up against the headboard.

"No love-making and you having a nightmare? Did you take something because this behavior is not you behavior."

"I think watching people get brutalized killed my libido for tonight. But...it was a lot."

Roman pffts. "Cause dead people with their meaty insides out definitely is the thing to kill it for you. We've roleplayed worse."

"You almost had a panic attack when I suggested bloodplay."

His eyes widen, then shrink to a glare - immediate defense and childish anger. "Because-that's fucking gross! It's keep people in a well and skin the bottom of their feet behavior! That's not hot! Not the right type of hot and it made me fucking concerned you were fucking Richard Ramirez behind my back."

"You and I were talking about trying new thing-"

"I meant like...a new strap-"

"I'm the one who had a terrifying night terror, Rome! Can you please just...comfort me?"

Roman blinks as the silence grows, as the ask becomes soft and small on Baby's face. He looks down to the blanket.

The way she asks beats at his chest like it hurts. It does. She's asked it like he's never comforted her before, like he's not good at it in general. He can. And he really doesn't want her to have dreams of dismembered people. He doesn't want her to become joyless, she needs to always be happy. The way he exists depends on how happy she is and how she's in the mood to love him. And not just him, he guess. Her job, and his family.

Roman presses his face into her shoulder, arm reaching across her chest to her bicep. He brings Baby down with force.

"Go to bed, people with axes can fuck off because I have you. You're supposed to feel better when I have you like this."

Baby blinks before she takes a moment to settle. She smiles, fingers pressing a curling touch onto Roman.

"Goodnight, Rome."

[littlerat2]

Overwhelming, but in a good way

@prinxietyweek

Prinxiety Week Day 4

Prompt: Daydream

Warnings: None

Words: 1,102

AO3

Author’s Note: So sorry this is so late, I was at an estrogen party <3

Virgil laid on his bed, staring at the roof. His mind wasn't in the room. In fact, his mind was about as far from his room as he could get.

No, his mind was on Roman, not the dust collecting on his ceiling fan. He thought about how the two had been so much closer lately. He thought about how much he got to see Roman’s amazing smile. His blinding confidence. His smirks and teasing glances. It all made Virgil’s stomach flip. Roman just radiated passion. Virgil could fall in love with it. In fact, he may have already.

His mind drifted to all of the things he loved about Roman. His passion was forefront, but there was more. He was funny, quick-witted, and he had so much love to give. It was overwhelming at times, but in a good way.

That was the best way to describe Roman. Overwhelming at times, but in a good way.

He had big declarations of affection, but he also had his little ways of showing he cared, too. Virgil mentioned that caffeine sometimes worsened his anxiety, and their very next hangout, Roman had calming decaf tea for the both of them. He even custom made Virgil his own purple and black tea cup! Virgil watched him paint it by hand. He was so careful and delicate.

Speaking of delicate- 

No.

He wouldn't let his mind wander that direction.

But he couldn't help it. His eyes would wander down to Roman’s lips at least once a day, and he hated it! It was distracting. His mind would go down rabbit holes he always struggled to pull himself out of. He'd space out in the middle of a conversation. He couldn't focus when Roman was around.

Though he had to admit. The thought of -

A loud, booming voice startled him from his thoughts. “I have arrived!”

“Shit-!” Virgil jumped, losing his balance and slipping off the side of his bed, landing between it and his nightstand. “Ow! Fuck- Princey! What the fuck, man?!”

“What?! You summoned me!”

“No I didn't! I was just sitting here!”

“I definitely felt you summon me.”

“What's going on here?” Logan asked from the doorway. “I heard a noise, and then- Virgil, why are you on the floor?”

“Cause Roman scared me off my bed!”

“Are you harmed?” Logan asked, helping him up.

“I don't think so.”

"Good.” Logan turned to Roman. “Out of curiosity, why did you scare Virgil?”

“It wasn't on purpose! He summoned me!”

“I can promise you, I didn't, Roman.”

Roman opened his mouth, but was cut short by a curt “Ah.” From Logan.

“What?” Virgil and Roman asked in unison.

“I believe I know what happened,” Logan started, turning to Virgil. “When another side is experiencing particularly bad anxiety, you feel that you are being summoned, correct?”

“Yeah, I don't see-”

“Oh!” Roman exclaimed, earning a startled yelp from Virgil. “Sorry.” he flashed an apologetic smile, and then his expression shifted into an excited smile, hands flapping. Virgil could melt. “I think I know what happened!”

“Oh?”

“You were daydreaming!” Virgil’s stomach dropped. “Anxiety summons you, and pretty strong daydreams can summon me sometimes! I can- why do you look scared?”

“What? I don't!” Virgil spat.

“You know daydreaming is normal, right?” Roman asked, his expression gentle now. “Even Logan does sometimes!”

“I- well, yeah, I know it's normal, it's just…” Virgil pulled his hood over his head, pulling the drawstrings to hide his face.

“Hey, it's okay,” Roman said, wrapping arms around him. When did he get so gentle? “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just thought I could help. I'm great with daydreams!”

Virgil couldn't tell you what air of confidence possessed him to do this, but he suddenly found himself blurting the first thing that came to mind. “It was about you!” He clapped a hand over his mouth. “Wait- I-I mean -” he backtracked. “I-I mean-”

“Me?” Roman asked, his voice soft, and eyes wide with… wonder?

“I-I-I mean- yeah?” His eyes flicked down to Roman's lips for just a second. He cursed himself, because Roman had definitely seen, and he almost certainly didn't feel the same, and-

“Hey, hey, take a breath. It's okay,” Roman said softly. Virgil hadn't noticed his rapid breathing, though it wasn't hard to correct. In fact, he wasn't sure he could breathe at all once he looked at Roman's face. The adoration in his expression was overwhelming.

Overwhelming, but in a good way.

“Would you believe me,” Roman started, his voice soft, “If I told you I daydream about you, too?”

“No.”

“No?” Roman pulled away, just slightly.

“Nope. Don't believe you.”

“And why not?”

Virgil shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “I dunno,” he mumbled.

“Well, you should. Cause I do.” Roman gently guided his head up by his chin. Virgil obliged. “I do,” Roman repeated. He gave a big smile, corners of his eyes crinkling softly.

“Okay… Yeah, I believe you.”

“Good,” Roman said softly. “Can I-... Can I kiss you?”

Virgil’s eyes widened. He searched Roman's face for any trace of sarcasm or insincerity, but found none.

“You-you can say no!” Roman added quickly. “I-I won't hold it against you! I just- I-I thought-”

Virgil nodded, trying- and failing- to suppress a smile.

“Is-is that a yes? Cause I wanna be extra sure-”

“Yes. It's a yes,” Virgil smiled softly.

That was all the warning Roman needed. He leaned downward, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against Virgil’s. It was soft, and slow. Gentle.

Overwhelming, but in the best way possible. 

If Roman minded Virgil’s spiky snake bites, he didn't show it. He leaned into the kiss, smiling. Virgil found himself smiling too. And this time, he didn't try to hide it.

He found it ended much too soon for his liking, but didn't fight it as Roman pulled away. Large green eyes focused on him, fond and warm. He felt like there were spiders skittering around in his stomach. His chest was warm. He stared back at Roman, dazed. He was sure he had a big, dopey smile on his face, but he didn't care.

“Your-your eyeshadow is really pretty,” Roman stammered.

“Eyeshadow?” Virgil mumbled.

“It's lavender now. And-and sparkly.”

Virgil couldn't hold back bright giggles anymore, muffled by Roman’s chest. Roman wrapped arms around his back.

“So, I was thinking… would you be free for a date on Saturday?” Roman asked.

“Yeah… I think that sounds nice,” Virgil looked up at Roman, and broke into a wide smile.

He leaned in for another kiss.

Author’s Note: Logan watching this whole thing happen awkwardly from the doorway like: 🧍

[starlightshadowsworld]

My thoughts on Bsd Chapter 113

Spoilers.

Obviously.

Okay guys we get it Sigma is alive, everyone chill.

I didn't think Sigma was dead, but good to have confirmation regardless.

The true duality of Double Black is that they can take down the most vindictive and smart villians.

And also share one braincell between them.

You'd think the first one or two times Chuuya dropped Sigma he'd think maybe this isn't gonna work.

And of course he dropped him 15 times.

I kinda wish it was 16 purely because Chuuya is wearing the same outfit he had on during the Dragons head incident (which was 6 years ago, when he was 16.)

But this is still funny.

... Hold on I just realised Dazai doesn't know Sigma has an ability.

Otherwise he'd probably know what happened to him, given how similar it works to Ango's.

Chuuya stop saying Fyodor is dead, you've said it twice now and the more you do the less I believe you.

Ohhh hell yeah I love the effect of all the memories looking like pages.

Starting from the bottom of the pile seems like a good idea but man how long is Sigma gonna be out for?

Oh back to this shit... Listen I don't care for Fukuchi but I do love Fukuzawa.

The fact Fukuchi admits there were other ways but this was his decision.... He could've spared Fukuzawa all this pain but chose not too.

Man fuck this guy.

Also the condition that 500 lives could achieve world peace, hated that.

The coin bombs didn't threaten lives he says like it didn't almost kill Tachihara.

Of course it was Fyodor's plan, only he'd come up with such nonsense.

At least we know why Fyodor was in Mersault now.

Back to Sigma.... Why is there a castle?

... Please tell me that's not Fyodor...

IS THAT BRAM?!

... What the fuck am I witnessing?

And not just Bram, Count Bram who's body isn't impaled by the sword.

And it is Fyodor, how old are you?! Love the robe but what?!

Oh and right back to this... I said it before and I'll say it again fuck Fukuchi man.

Having Fukuzawa choose between his life or the Agencies, become the thing he never wanted to be or save his family.

I do wonder if that choice is basically the mystery to get out the book, because this is shill Poe's book.

Or if that was just finding out the mystery of the past, who knows.

God and Fukuchi not needing to give any last words because he has no regrets. Because his best friend is going to kill him and it's everything he wants

Fukuchi wins and it costs Fukuzawa everything.

I do love that Fyodor retains his love for getting captured on purpose.

And flirting with Count Bram apparently, I can already see the fics.

Man when even the Vampire King calls you evil incarnate.

Is Fyodor trying to be a seer? What is this premonition? Or is he just fucking around.

Oh shit yeah reminder that Bram is from Ireland, so that's why the Romans be such an issue rn.

... Jeez how far in the past is this?

Also, is it just me or does Fyodor have a scar on his face he doesn't have in the present?

Yeah Bram I don't think that's gonna kill him.

Oh and Fukuzawa aiming him cut down Fukuchi in the same place he sliced Akutugawa.

AWW AND HE CAN'T DO IT.

My heart, I'm so glad Fukuchi didn't get mad at him for it or I would've flipped the table.

You're really asking a lot.. Like way to much.

Which is when Teruko shows up.

Awh Teruko... And putting the sword in Fukuzawa's hands so he takes the fall as she cries.

I can't...

Fuck man...look at him. His face, his eyes Fukuzawa is never going to emotionally recover from this and neither will I.

Aya hunny I appreciate the enthusiasm but you might wanna read the room.

[meirimerens]

I love your headcanons/stories about Daniil's mom, as well as the art you've made of her! I was actually wondering if you had any thoughts about Daniil's dad. We at least know that he was a military man and wanted the same for his son but that's about it

i've talked about him a bunch scattered across like seven trillion dankovsky lore posts (mostly about how he reacted to his son being gay + the slow acceptation of it until he offered him a chokha as a university-going gift in a meaning of You Might Be Gay. But You're Still My Masculine Man Son + being kinda. Afraid of his son's boyfriend until the boyfriend becomes interested in his + dankovsky's shared beetles collection and he's like mmmmmh maybe he's a good guy actually) but i have a few other things... come here [grabs you]

dankovsky's dad's side of the family To Meeee is georgian [hence. daniil mikheilovich [georgian romanization] and not mikhailovich [russian romanization]] but has been in russia for longer than his mom's side has been. on mom's side i think either her parents or grandparents emigrated, on dad's side i think it's been longer; hence why the paternal last name eventually became. i don't know what word to choose. "assimilated" maybe? like a fully russian last name came into the picture [and then was passed down to dankovsky] instead of daniil's mom's maiden name that is still armenian. i think the dad's side of the family still stayed within georgian/caucasian communities for a bit, mostly mingling and bonding with other emigrants, keeping in touch with the culture of their country of origins, and that's probably in one of them that daniil's mommy and daddy met

i think he's also kind of a small guy like dankovsky. i see dankovsky as 170cm [1cm taller than in p1 (bc i need mark to be the 169cm he is i think it's funny) but also 13cm smaller than in p2 lol] his mom to meee is 155cm so teeny weeny but i think he doesn't just have that from her i think his dad is also like. either 171cm or 169cm idk who i see as being taller on here

i think he can grow a meeeaaaan fucking beard actually i had taken this image [the man iirc is armenian but i'm going purely off of vibes]

as a ref for dankovsky's dad's portrait when i drew daniil's apartment scene so i think dad can grow that type of beard. (i think daniil also Can he just refuses to do so he likes to be clean-shaved.) he'd be really proud of his big beard i think it's a great deal about his own masculinity and power to him.

he was [canon lore] a military man who truly tried to make a military man out of his son. in my mind it was also a way to try to counterbalance a certain like. Overcompensating. for his son being gay. i've written it more but tldr for a lot of fathers, their son being gay is an attack on their own masculinity/sexuality because they see the son as an extension of themselves, and i think dankovsky's father tried to make him a military man both because he thought he'd do good + it'd offer him an honorable life, because he saw dankvsky as an extension of himself as dads do and wanted to share this with him, AND because he thought teaching him to fight and shoot a gun would like compensate for the Gay Thing. now dankovsky's still gay but a fucking menace and sharp shooter to boot

i think he has a certain like. roughness that came with the time period right like a hold (and wish to hold) on masculinity which maybe made him a bit... not unkind, but unsweet. a bit emotionally reserved, but as like A Man Thing unfortunately. he was a little distant towards dankovsky as he grew up and The Gay Thing became obvious, but has had to like. kind of suck it up and live with it. he's re-grown closer just before he left for uni. i think he would mellow in the company of horses (i think he truly liked horses + maybe even was cavalry) and shared his love of them with his son teaching him to ride + mellow and offer a sort of almost childish wonder in the collection of beetles (which dankovsky took from him as well). i think dankovsky cherishes the beetle-collecting with him because it was among the few times were dad didn't try to Compensate for him and truly let himself be a little whimsical

i think he eventually left the military, i'm thinking he could have been discharged for an injury. i also think he's still alive during the events of the game [just like his wife/dankovsky's mom], however i'm thinking he could be working away from home. mom stays home because she has health problems but i think he's a bit healthier and can travel so he can get money to support her, even if she still works on her own

i like to think he might have played an instrumence... daniil's mom i see as playing the cello [and daniil taking from her] and i'm thinking mom and dad could have met over music. he could play... maybe piano... fiddle... panduri.... makes you think. but i think he stopped as daniil was being expected + growing up because he had Military Things to do. maybe with his discharge of it he got back into it...

i think his ass cannot cook. truly i don't. i think he's a foodie and loves his treats and traditional foods but even when he puts all his heart into it. he fucks it up.

yeas... yeas we see it... THANK YOU FOR ASKING....!

[dogcodedcatboy]

HIIIIIII CRICKET HI HI 🧊 🍋‍🟩 and 🪻 for the asks :3c

<3 @heart-shaped-reagent-vial

NAT!!!! thank you for sending an ask!!! 🖤🐈‍⬛ hope ur doing well!!!!

🧊 - how would your f/o text you? would they use proper punctuation/capitalization, or type more informally?

OK SO the one canon text message roman sends in the show is 'I am going to kill myself' which is really fucking funny also the only thing i can base this response off of. i feel like the proper capitalization is only becuz the default autocorrect setting is to capitalize i's. same would go for spelling and punctuation. roman likes emojis more than emoticons. (picks up ironic usage of 'owo' from aaron and really only uses it when he's trying to be annoying)

using this as a dumping ground for my texting headcanons but. he texts aaron a lot of random thoughts/quips during the day (but ultimately would perfer to call if he can, especially when he's away for business trips, the type to want to call and catch every night that they're apart once they're settled in to their relationship).

🍋‍🟩 - similarly, what would your contact names be for each other?

aaron definitely has roman in as something stupid like 'roman royalty 👑' or '💙boy toy roman roy💙'. he's not one to have serious / accurate contact names. for some period of their pre-relationship fwb hookup thing, he's in aarons phone as 'trustfund failson who cursed my dick'

roman is so paranoid about having a Secret Boyfriend at first that even in his personal phone aaron is saved just by his initials (A.L) until he can think of something funny. aaron is in roman's phone for a decent amount of time as 'Champagne Socialist 🍾' (equally anonymous but at least a bit witty/a dig at aaron). eventually once the dust clears he's able to have aaron in as 'Aaron ❤️'. nothing too fancy.

🪻 - what's your f/o's coffee or drink order?

cortado with almond milk is his canon coffee order (1:1 ratio steamed milk + espresso, lil bit of foam at the top)! i think he could over time be persuaded to try more exciting things. i think its silly that he also canonically likes green juice/smoothies. i like to think he'd enjoy matcha too :3

[touchtranscendslanguage]

how powerful is virgil in comparison to the fae princes and his own blood family? he was the most powerful witch in the MHA when he worked there but is he really powerful compared to the others?

Okay, so the magic tiers are as follows:

Phenomenal

Elite

Sublime

Master

Esteemed

Grand

Splendid

Great

Common

Novice

Fledgling

All of those tiers except phenomenal are divided into High, Mid, and Lower. Phenomenal isn't divided because it's a blanket term for anyone higher than Elite which is insanely rare. Only a handful of witches in the universe are phenomenal.

With me so far?

Your average witch is somewhere between Novice and Great.

Most of Virgil's family are somewhere between Great and Master.

The seelie princes are all either Sublime or Elite. They are all expected to move up at least one tier by the time they reach full power.

King Thomas and King Objectivity are both Phenomenal with King Thomas being the absurdly more powerful of the two. Thomas cannot be contained on a chart.

The Dragon Witch was High Elite. You know who else is High Elite? Janus. Sound proofing rooms and masking the scent of sex with just a thought sounds funny but those aren't parlor tricks. He could've reattached Virgil's arm if he'd needed to but it would've hurt like a bitch and would've done nothing for the extensive psychological damage so we're all glad that didn't happen. There are many reasons Janus is so widely feared.

Mid Elite you have Dragon Flame and Patton is Lower Elite. Patton and Janus will almost certainly end up Phenomenal.

Logan is High Sublime, Remus is Mid Sublime and surprisingly Roman is Lower Sublime. You'd think the twins would be ranked higher but they've both been very busy their whole lives and don't have a lot of downtime to really hone their skills. In truth, they'll likely end up Phenomenal too, it'll just take them longer to get there.

Dragon Song is Lower Master.

Virgil is Lower Elite. So pretty fucking powerful. He inherited more from his great-grandmother than he's comfortable with. And of course, a lot of that is a matter of luck that has nothing to do with her as her powers were diluted when passed down. He's an early bloomer - really early - but he still has room to grow and will probably bump up to Mid or High Elite. Maybe even Phenomenal, which would be a surprise.

Virgil was one of the most powerful witches in the MHA, not the most powerful. His grandmother Dragon Flame held that title. And there were a few other witches more powerful than him. But if he'd stayed? Future him might've been the most powerful.

[roman-cates]

Roman looks away when Bryce stands up. Damn it.

Bryce leads Kyle outside, positioning himself to have a clear view of the window through which he can see Roman. They stand silently for a minute, Kyle's back to the house. Just when Bryce is about to demand an explanation, Kyle speaks.

"…That ankle's not going to heal right on its own. But please, sir. Don't do anything to him. Not yet. I can take him, if -- when you get tired of him." Kyle's voice gets a little quicker and quieter as he speaks. "You know my family has land, I can keep him isolated. And he won't escape, not with that ankle. You know I wouldn't let that happen."

Bryce raises his brows a little bit. There's no possible way Kyle decided keeping a captive would make his life better. Kyle doesn't even live on his family's land. He'd have to move.

"I can pay for him," Kyle says firmly.

Riiiight.

"And I'm not asking for him now -- just, don't kill him without seeing my offer?"

Bryce keeps his face still as he says, "Let's back up a minute before we go too far down this road. What's this about his ankle?"

Kyle swallows. Hard.

"It's…I didn't know, I wasn't lying to you before. We had a patient come in with a similar injury yesterday. I didn't know how bad it was, I swear. But the doctors are saying she'll need at least one surgery, probably more."

"Mmm-hmm."

"I didn't know, Mr. Stryerson. I'm sorry. I should have researched it right away, I should have--"

"Stop." Bryce holds up a hand. "Find out how much surgery it will take." His mind is racing, a little. Getting it done here will be very tough. He'll have to explain to Boss why he cares. But Jean works at a hospital. And this wouldn't be the first time Jean's slipped someone in with false IDs. He might even have connections closer to here…

"Sir…It's a lot, Mr. Stryerson. This isn't an outpatient, one-hour surgery. And it won't be cheap, even with…It won't be cheap."

"Yes," Bryce growls a little, "And I'm not saying I'll have it done." Not here, at any rate. He takes a half step towards Kyle. "But I want to know my options."

"Yes sir." Kyle swallows. His Adam's apple bobs up and down. "I'll find out for you."

"You do that," Bryce says with a nod. He almost backs away, but thinks better of it. He lowers his voice even more instead. "And what's this about buying him? You want someone to slap around? Someone to practice your medical work on?"

"No!" Kyle practically shouts. Then he looks down. He matches Bryce's volume. "I know you -- and, and everyone…It's not my…" He shakes his head and looks at Bryce, their eyes meeting. Kyle is several inches taller, but he looks cowed and almost ashamed. "He didn't do anything, Mr. Stryerson. Mal's talked a little about it. He's a complete innocent. I know you can't let him go. I know we can't let him go." Bryce doesn't think he's heard adult Kyle this impassioned about anything. "But he doesn't deserve to die."

Bryce just raises his brows again.

"No, no, I get it, I do. But he doesn't need to die."

Bryce takes a full step back, looks Kyle over.

"I'll keep that in mind," he neutrally. "I'm not planning on letting him die anytime soon."

"What was that bloodwork about, then?" Kyle bursts out. Bryce is actually impressed he can lose control and stay so quiet. "If you weren't trying to hurt him, then he was trying to kill himself. I mean, very very badly, but--"

Bryce bursts out laughing.

Kyle glares at him, "It's not funny!"

"It was my fucking blood," Bryce is growling again. Damn it.

"And if he--It was what?!"

Bryce sighs. "Go home, Kyle. It's late, I've had a long day. We'll talk about this more later this week, I promise."

Kyle still looks shaken, but he nods and takes a step back. Away from his car, but he's clearly not thinking well right now.

Bryce shakes his head with a sigh and goes back inside. He plops himself down at the kitchen table next to Roman, face in his hands. Out front, a car door closes and an engine revs up.

Bryce looks up at Roman.

"You want to go to bed, or are you awake now?"

Previous

Bryce and Kyle exit the house. Roman can see them through the window. He can't hear what's happening, though. He sees Bryce step closer to Kyle... a moment later, Roman can hear Kyle shout, "no!"

What are they talking about..?

Roman watches them converse for a few moments longer and... he hears Bryce's laughter, just faintly.

Kyle leaves a short while later and Bryce comes back inside. He sits at the table and puts his face in his hands. When he looks up, he speaks.

"You want to go to bed, or are you awake now?"

Well... he's not really awake. "What was that about..?" he asks, quietly, rubbing his eyes a little to keep himself awake.

[drewxjackson]

"Okay -- sorry." Andrew uttered, not wanting to give him more ammunition to yell at him now that they were in such a small and confined space. And yet he was certain that if Roman would end up yelling at him again they would be able to enjoy it at the nearest elevator doors. He didn't want to cause a scene at the bank. Not one like that anyway.

When Roman began to recall their fight, and how he'd been yelling, slamming his fist on the table, Andrew did nothing but watch him. He sounded like it had been troubling him all this time, and an incredulous wave of guilt washed over Andrew. He'd wanted him to be angry with him, not feeling guilt or remorse for the way he acted, so he shook his head and waved the comment away. "It wasn't as if I didn't give you reason to. You were in your right." He told him, letting out a sigh, dropping his gaze to their feet.

"I shouldn't have dropped it on you like that." He spoke after a moment of lingering silence of pondering as to whether he should apologise. It might take away a bit of his anger, and Andrew knew that Roman needed it, or at least he would have needed it himself had the roles been reversed, but he didn't want him to be angry forever. If anything he wanted to be able to greet him properly on the street like old friends. "I'm sorry for how I handled it, I just --" He wasn't even sure what he wanted to say, he had no explanation except for the truth. And Roman hadn't accepted it then, so he wouldn't now either. "I'm sorry." And he left it at that.

When the other began commenting on the repairs he looked up, draping his coat over the railing, tucking it secure. "Might as well get comfortable. It'll be a while." Hours even, but he wasn't sure he could handle Roman being that upset being stuck with him for hours. Yet at the ten dollars comment Andrew snorted out a short laugh, one he tried to keep hidden by placing his hand atop his mouth. "I'm sorry." He uttered, reminding himself the situation was not funny. "Ten dollars? That's fucked up." @romanrhodes

Roman heard his words and his head swung around, baffled and angry at the accusation. "No, I didn't." He replied, his own jaw clenching as he kept his voice level in volume, but failing to keep the anger out of it. "I lost my temper, and I'm not proud of it, but I never meant to." He swallowed hard, his eyes flashing as he looked away.

"...I didn't mean to get as angry as I did when you left. I shouldn't have raised my voice... or hit the table. That was uncalled for and... ugly." He admitted, letting out a sigh through his nostrils. He was admitting something he'd wanted to for a while, a regret he'd only spoken about in therapy.

"...I've never done it before because I've never been this angry at you." Or this hurt him, but Roman wasn't ready to admit that. It felt pathetic. 'Hey, I know it's been over a month, but I'm still devasted and emotionally crippled by you dumping me!'

"Oh, God... How long is it gonna take for someone to get out here?" Roman asked, rubbing the back of his neck and sighing again. He wasn't asking to be answered, he was asking because he was suddenly aware of it. How many elevator mechanics were on call and available at the drop of a hat? "I just wanted to drop off some money, and now I'm here because I miscounted ten bucks."

[starshard17]

For the prompt thing,

10. Roman + Virgil? ♥️♥️♥️

Assuming you mean the large drabbles list! (Please correct me if I'm wrong 🙏) Thanks for the ask Dove!!

10. "Why are you wearing my skirt?"

--

"Virgil?"

Just hearing his name being called made his blood run cold. He whipped his head around, looking at Roman, practically breathing fear that felt so insanely suffocating.

"Roman!" Virgil stuttered put after many minutes of awkward silence.

"Why are you wearing my skirt?" Roman asked, examining Virgil's figure.

"Oh well you know... I just... thought it'd be... funny!" Virgil cringed at his own answer. Oh how he wished he had a hoodie to hide in right now.

"Funny? Jeez you're making ne feel like Logan- but I don't understand humor. Or yours to say the least. What about dressing in my outfit is so... funny?" Roman prodded, scratching his head.

Shit.

Great job Virgil, you're really digging a hole here. Might as well be your grave. Let's get to work on a tombstone too. It'd read "Virgil Sanders : Once said it was funny to wear a close friend's skirt."

Oh that sounds horrific. Virgil shoved his face into his hands, groaning and grumbling against them.

"Virge?" Roman piped up. Virgil was reminded that he still hadn't answered Roman. He shook his head, looking up at Roman and muttering an answer.

Roman could make out a few mumbles, but even then it was difficult to decipher what exactly the emo had said.

"You're gonna have to speak up Stormy Night, I can't understand you when you're mumbling." Roman said with a light sigh. He watched Virgil's shoulders tense up and his eyes squeeze shut.

Oh no, was he pushing it? A million different scenarios ran through Roman's head all at once. Each one included Virgil absolutely hating him for being so pushy.

The two sides stood in silence once more. There was a funk in the air. Not the good kind of funk. Both sides seemed eager to say something but neither took the chance.

Then they both blurted out at the same time

"You don't have to tell me I'm sorry for being pushy!" Roman shouted.

"I'm sorry for taking it without asking I just thought you looked really pretty in it!" Virgil yelled. The two sides looked each other in the eyes.

Virgil's heart was racing. Roman's cheeks were burning.

"Pretty?" Roman breathed out, his face turning much redder. "You took my skirt... because you thought I looked pretty in it...?" Roman asked, taking a small step closer.

Oh God this was a mistake. Virgil should have never taken Roman's clothes, he never should have said anything. Heck he should've locked his door! Now all he could feel was existential dread weighing down on him as his friend stalked closer.

This was the end of their friendship, Virgil thought, hiding his face in shame. He would never want to talk to him again, he'd hate him. He couldn't even bare to look at Roman right now. How could he? He had just admitted to his closest friend's face that he thought he was pretty. Why must he be so stupid? Why Why Why...

His thoughts were interuppted. There were hands on his waist. Virgil snapped his head up, looking at the man in front of him. Eyes gleaming, complextion radiant, smiling widely down at him. There was a lovely rosey tint to his cheeks.

"Roman...?" Virgil spoke, looking up at him. Waiting. What was he waiting for? He wasn't sure. But he was anticipating something.

"For the record you can't just call me pretty and expect me to not pay you a compliment back..." Roman murmured. His voice was soft. Endearing. Loving even? Virgil felt his heart flutter.

What the fuck? Why was it doing that? Why is his face fixed into such a big smile? What was he doing. This was his best friend.

"Virgil... I think you're really pretty too... and you don't have to dress in my clothes to feel pretty." Roman told him, cupping Virgil’s cheeks. His face burned bright as he reached up, grabbing Roman's wrists.

"I didn't do this for me!" Virgil blurted. He wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying anymore. He just let the words fall out.

"W-well I did but it wasn't to help me feel better about how I look it was just... cause... it reminded me of you... and... I like... like thinking... about you..." Virgil sputtered, watching Roman's face twist in surprise.

"You?" Was all Roman could manage. Virgil looked at the ground, fearing the worst.

Instead he was pleasantly surprised. A soft kiss was planted on the top of his head.

"You like thinking about me?" Roman spoke, his voice still as smooth as silk.

"How could I not..." Virgil mumbled. Roman merely smiled, running his hands up into Virgil's hair.

"That's really sweet Virge... cause I like thinking about you too..."

"I do it almost on the daily actually."

"You think about me?" Virgil muttered, in complete shock. Why would Roman think about him?

Roman grinned, pulling Virgil in a bit closer to him.

"How could I not?~"

[pynkhues]

I feel like Kendall would be the one to suggest casual sex with Stewy in college but he'd also get jealous whenever Stewy bring a guy back to their apartment ( even though Kendall bring girls back all the time but he's a hypocrite).

Ooooo, I love that, anon.

I kinda feel like the first hookup would've been accidental? Or not accidental exactly – I think they'd both thought about it, but they'd always mostly just chalked that up to being fifteen, seventeen, whatever and like - - perpetually horny. Or at least Stewy had, Kendall hadn't chalked it up to anything because he'd just aggressively shut down any thought as soon as it floated through his head. After all, you know growing up with a dad like Logan doesn't exactly encourage thoughts of exploring sexuality in a way that involves anyone other than leggy blondes with a size 2 ass.

And Stewy knows that, gets it, shit, has seen Logan tear Roman a new asshole for eating a banana and Kendall for crying after he told him to fuck off, like either thing means you love dick, but whatever. Not Stewy's circus, not Stewy's monkeys.

(Only Kendall kind of is, sometimes, but Stewy really doesn't want to think about that.)

Anyway, Stewy starts to experiment when he's a teenager, but Kendall doesn't really, and they graduate highschool and it's the summer before college and Connor offers to let them housesit his new place in Medina for a few weeks (even though doesn't he have like - - staff for that? Although Stewy knows Logan's been on the warpath lately too since a deal fell through, so maybe the housesitting isn't the point), and they get a little fucked up and a little closer and anyway they end up jerking each other off. It's not a big deal, it's not, and even less so maybe, because Kendall insists on reminding him in the morning how fucked up he was and how much he Doesn't Remember, and that really sort of figures.

Stewy's a little burnt, sure, but whatever, if that's the way Kendall wants to play it, it's no skin off his nose, only it happens again.

And again.

And then they go to college and it just - -

Keeps happening.

It doesn't mean they stop seeing other people (why would it if Ken never remembers?) – Kendall has a string of girlfriends he lovebombs before panicking about, and Stewy does College, sleeps with guys, girls, whoever, feels his way around the campus because who even cares about undergrad? Business School is for real work, connection building, bringing home a girl daddy will approve of, yadda yadda, this? This is supposed to be fun.

So Stewy's having fun.

And it's easy, it is, until Kendall's dumped by whatever bottle blonde linguistics major he's dating and wants to drown his sorrows, and Stewy's a good friend, y'know, he takes him out, he can do that, and they get fucked up at the campus bar, only Stewy runs into this guy that he has a casual arrangement with, and it's almost funny. How Kendall can't read the room for shit, except for this one, right now, because he latches onto it in a way that he hasn't done since Stewy wanted to play on Ricky Gadden's team in kickball (even as a kid, Stewy liked to win, and kickball? With Kendall? Come on).

The mood shifts, and Kendall's overly friendly - invites the guy to their booth, does that weird, intense thing he does where he makes too much eye contact, and Stewy's rolling his, but ends up patting them both on the shoulder and saying he'll talk to them another night, since they've hit it off, and Kendall, y'know, turns about eight different shades of red, but he knows the exact hole he's dug himself into now, and if there's one thing Kendall loves, it's sulking in said holes-he's-dug-himself, and so he stays, and Stewy goes back to his dorm, and he is not surprised in the slightest when Kendall shows up an hour later, trying and failing to play it cool, and Stewy just waits until Kendall finally caves and actually asks it.

Sort of.

"Are you and him like, uh, butt buddies or something?"

"Only on Thursdays," Stewy replies easily, still half-paying attention to his econ readings while Kendall sits awkwardly on his bed, tilting his beer (he'd pinched it from Stewy's minifridge the second he'd come in) and everything just sort of devolves because Kendall's petulant when he's jealous, and Stewy's annoyed because spotty memory and never actually talking about any of it was Kendall's choice, and Kendall just talks around everything and never about anything, at least not when it comes to this, but things sort of reach a head (hah, pun), and anyway, it's the first time they kiss.

Tucked into Stewy's dorm twin bed, Kendall pressed into the wall while Stewy just tries to get him to stop talking, and nothing changes, except Kendall stops pretending he forgets after, and that counts for something, right?

[kendallsdreamsong]

ummm names in succession. thinkin about em

in episode 1, greg is introduced as "cousin craig". this is the most blatant example of how names are used to show someones value- or rather, lackthereof- of another. logan doesnt give a shit about greg, so even keeping his name in mind is a hassle. shiv speaks up, says that his name is actually greg, and he insists that its fine and he'll answer to both. this reads as him saying that his devaluation is fine, so long as he is Acknowledged by logan (and thus has an in to the family). hes willing to be respected, or not, and he wont let it show that it bugs him. its also just funny

logan calls shiv "pinkie", particularly throughout season 2 & 3 as he is trying to manipulate her. this is ostensibly a term of endearment, an encouragement of shivs desperate hope that his promise is real. it also reminds her very distinctively of her place within the roy family and within waystar - pink is stereotypically associated with women, and fuck knows waystar is a boys club. it also brings to mind the pinkie finger, which is used (usually by children) to seal promises

roman has a complex relationship with names. logan calls him romulus, but only ever to his face - when he is around other people, logan calls him roman. we can also gather that "romulus" is meant to be demeaning, the most obvious example being "you better be smelling your fuckin' armpit, romulus". romulus, as you can imagine, is one of the twins who, according to myth, founded rome. the original romulus killed his sibling, which shows logans expectation of him. combined with how the nickname is used to intimidate him, it shows logans anger that roman wasnt the successor he thought he'd be. to contrast, his siblings often call him rome, particularly when theyre trying to be vulnerable with him (or at least as vulnerable as roy siblings can be) or appeal to him. rome is one letter off from rose, logans dead sister. this starts to get into fantheories & season 4 predictions, so im not gonna look at it too much, but it does serve as good leeway into my final point; roman is two letters off from logan. especially considering how roman is called "bootleg logan" in season 3, this shows the similarities between roman and logan. the difference is, of course, romans inability to hide his love <- im not gonna go too in-depth bc thatd be a whole analysis in and of itself but that was pretty much the point of the season 3 finale

anyways. roy kids name origins ! why not. just for fun. connor is a celtic name derived from "conchobhar" which means "lover of wolves". this reflects his love of nature, his love of his siblings (or wolves, see: dog/wolf motif) and more metaphorically, his "lone wolf" place within the family. kendall seems to be an english name meaning "of the river kent", however it also can also be an anglicized version of the welsh name "cynddelw", which in itself might be derived from a celtic word meaning "exalted", "high", "effigy". im leaning more towards the latter because i cant find anything of note in the history of the river kent, and it shows kendalls almost like. deification? as logans "number one boy". siobhan is an irish name meaning "god is gracious". im struggling to find anything i can relate to her, aside from the fact that its a cognate of the welsh name siân and the english name joan, which brings to mind joan of arc. there are also a couple british politicians named siobhan, and we know a good portion of the writing team is british. aside from that, though, i rlly dont know. i already discussed the origin of romulus, but i thought i'd note that roman is a latin name where the rest are either celtic or english. this is the language of the romans, who conquered the british isles in ancient times. plus his name is literally roman. hes plainly not a "conquerer" of any kind, but he does display a capacity for deliberate cruelty that arguably the rest of the siblings dont have - "im the only child you'll ever need, you can kill the others. love you!" "fascism is kinda cool" etc

okay. infodump over. you can all go home now

[stardancerluv]

Doubts

Side-Story

Summary: Reader had a world wind meeting with Roman…a kidnapping…passion…but now its almost two weeks since Roman and her were together. Reader is convinced she knows how Roman feels. While Roman, is wondering where Reader is.

Note: This chapter falls directly between parts & 3 of Creative Fervor. Roman is here is not used to being in a relationship or caring for someone other then himself.

If you have read Gotham Lockdown 2020 or Gotham Surviving the Pandemic 2021, 🤪 Roman has continued to grow as a character, while (my consistent) Reader has been along side him.

You had poured yourself your fourth glass of wine. You were finally feeling no pain. That was exactly where you needed to be as you tried to start your new project.

Roman chuckled. “To think I was going to woo you while we would talk business.”

His voice echoed your mind.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “You can still woo me, but I am all yours.” You could still hear your reply.

Your heart hurt. Why the fuck did it hurt. It honestly had all been a mistake. Thirteen long days since you and Roman came here and looked over what Jareth had done to your studio.

Seriously, his men had kidnapped you, albeit by accident and somehow you both had ended up fucking. He was so magnificent, the power he exuded. Your old infatuation had bubbled to the surface. You had not been in the right state. So what if he remembered you coming in that rainy night. You had not seen or heard from him.

Obviously, after a few quick fucks he had now. Just like all the other girls who apparently caught his eye. At least that is what you had read in the papers.

You refused to let yourself cry one more time. You were a lady, a woman. A casual fuck wasn’t exactly a bad thing, women did it all the time. And heck, he was one of the handsomest men in Gotham.

You could try and bop Bruce Wayne after all these years and have both men as a notch on your scissors. You threw your head back and chuckled. That thought had made you smile. Designer by day, torrid sexual liaisons with all the eligible men of Gotham at night. You chuckled again.

******

This was day thirteen. He paced in front of his desk. Where was she? Why had he not heard from you. Usually he had to push the girls away. But you, you just vanished.

“You can still woo me, but I am all yours.”

The memory of your sweet voice still echoed in his ear. Damn you! Usually he didn’t care but you were different. The memory of you tugged at him.

He wanted your perfume tickling his nose, he wanted to watch your eyes as he was in you. Damn, he wanted to also just talk to you. Something about you fascinated him.

“Zsasz!” Clenching his fists, he hollered.

“Yes boss.” He scratched the back of his head, after he entered his office.

“Was there any response to the flowers or the bolts of fabrics?”

“The what?”

“The fabric I had you order and send to Y/N… The fucking bouquets?”

He watched as the shorter man bowed his head. Rarely, did Zsasz ever look sheepish or even reluctant. But now that look washed over his face. He only ever saw it when he fucked up.

“Zsasz, what did you fucking do?” He snarled.

“I thought you were fucking kidding.”

Roman closed the distance. “What about ‘get a really nice bouquet and send it to Y/N’ was funny?”

The man didn’t look at him, his shoulders slumped.

“Or what about ‘I think these are some great fabrics, go and buy them from here and have them sent over to Y/N with my wishes’.”

“Nothing.” He barely looked at him.

“Then why didn’t you do it?”

“You’ve never done that before.” He could barely hear his voice.

“Man, when you fuck up, you fuck up.”

He stormed out of his office. He went over to his walk-in closet. He chose a fresh suit jacket. He ran a comb through his dark strands.

“Roman, you have a meeting in an hour.”

Roman stopped and turned. “Fucking cancel it. They can wait.”

He made it to the elevator and took it down.

Once there, he eyed the rack of keys.

“Sir, where can I drive you?” His driver, sat up and was alert.

“I’m driving today.”

He grabbed the keys to his ‘66 Mustang. Maybe you’d like that. Maybe the two of you could drive down to the wharf. But first the fashion district and then he’d grab some flowers.

*****

He sighed, shrugged out of his suit jacket and laid it in the passenger seat. He put the bolts of fabric in the back. Turning the corner, he found a florist. This was easier than he thought.

Finally, with a roar of his engine he began making it to the slice of Gotham where your studio was. He even smiled. This would be great, he’d explain the two of you would be back on.

*****

Sliding out of his car, he smoothed his hair and straightened his jacket once he slipped it back on. He grabbed the bouquet, went over and pushed the industrial bell. He stepped back and waited.

******

You turned up your music, feeling a good warmth from the wine. You wiggled happily about as you got to work.

Soon, your hand was moving this way or that way. The Mad Hatter’s chair soon took shape before you.

*****

He pushed the button again. Still no response. He pressed his lips together.

Perhaps he could see if your door was open. If you were out, maybe he could leave it all and then call or perhaps leave a note.

He brought a gloved hand down to the doorknob and he stopped. He hesitated. He could just walk.

Like a ghost, he remembered how strong you looked when he had first approached and even stronger when you saw the full extend of what that Jareth did to you. On principle alone, when he got back into town, he would be handling him personally.

He nodded to himself. He had to get to know you better. Inhaling, he twisted the knob. He could feel the cold metal through the fabric of his gloves.

Music almost as loud as it would be at the club greeted him. No wonder you had not heard the bell.

He closed the door behind him. At a fair distance he stopped and called to you. He didn’t want to startle you.

“Y/N.” He called out.

Nothing. Had you even heard him. He shouted again. Nothing.

As he looked around and he came closer, he saw you and that you had painted over the spray painted vulgarities Jareth had left in his wake. The paint was newish, it made his nose twitch.

Placing the bouquet down, he stopped. Something prickled at him. This was new to him. He looked back at the door, then looked back at you. The way your curves were under your slouchy shirt, the way your shorts were way too short. He was reminded of how much he really wanted all of you.

The urge to go up behind you filled his mind’s eye. He’d let his hands slip under your shirt, you’d feel so soft and warm. It made his breath catch, he bit the inside of his cheek. Damn, he really wanted to nuzzle your throat. Or perhaps he’d lay a hand on it, delighting in how his glove would look against your soft pale skin. His stomach churned.

He watched as you sat back and looked at your canvas. Now or never. He closed the distance.

He placed his hands on your shoulders. “Hi baby.” He managed before you screamed and managed to free yourself from his hands. Leaping up, you were flat against your easel. Your eyes were wide, darting around for an escape. But then when you saw him, your face relaxed. But the expression he could not read.

He stepped back and raised his arms. “Hi baby.”

Now you were the one who closed the distance. You pushed him. He was so shocked he actually stumbled back. But then he composed himself and grabbed your by your wrists before you could push him again.

“What kind of greeting is this?” You wiggled and he wasn’t going to let you go. “Stop.”

Your eyes were aflame, damn if that wasn’t sexy. “I’m not a convenient fuck.” You snarled. He could smell something, maybe wine mingling with your perfume he had so missed.

He brought your hands down. He knew sometimes it worked for him. His migraines made his anger explode. It was only once or twice that he'd allow Black Canary or Zsasz to calm him this way. You continued to wiggle. “Stop!”

“No.” Your voice broke.

“You’re not.” He shook your hands as he continued to hold them and brought them down again. “Zsasz fucked up and never sent my messages.” His voice was firm. Some of the anger he had bottled up came through in his voice.

You stilled. “What messages?” You raised your eyebrows, as the flames that were still burning in your eyes met his.

“That I wanted to see you again.”

“Really?” He had to admit, seeing a breathlessness coming over you was delightful. He finally let go of your wrists.

“Yes, damn it.” He ran his fingers through your hair. “I had told him to send you some flowers. And when I didn’t hear from you after those, I sent some fabrics.

Seeing you rub your wrists, he felt a little bad about that. Though the idea of pinning them above you entered his mind and he did like that.

You put a hand on your hip. “Really?”

He nodded. “To correct his fuck up,” He gestured to the bouquet on the table. “I brought those. And in my car are some fabrics I thought you might like.”

******

You followed him out to his car and gasped. “Roman? Where’s the rolls?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want the driver in tow. I want this between us.” You watched as he pressed his lips together, his eyes softened. “I should have never delegated when it came to you.”

Those words brought a sweet beat to your heart.

“You are a very busy man.” You acknowledged.

“I am, but...” His voice trailed off. He opened the door then. He made a grand sweeping gesture. “These are the fabrics.”

Shock filled you as you looked over the dynamic array of fabrics. There were several types, colors and patterns. You leapt at Roman, hugging him tight. You felt as he stiffened but then relaxed. You smiled up at him. “They all look so wonderful." You enthused.

He smiled, it was that kind of smile that hit you. It was soft, it reached the blue in his eyes. He was behind it. The wine still strong in your system made tears prickle and fall down your cheeks. The smile disappeared.

“I- did I fuck this up too?” His voice was almost hollow.

“No… No. I just drank too much wine. These… These...” You let one arm drop so you could gesture. “These are wonderful. Thank you so much.”

You don’t know what came over you, but right there you went up on your tiptoes the best that you could and you peppered his chin with kisses.

He chuckled and actually kind of wiggled. “Y/N, ok… Ok. That tickles. Let’s um… Get these inside.”

******

Clad now only in his t-shirt and slacks, your messy ponytail was gone and your hair loose. Like Roman preferred. You were cuddled in his lap.

You both had put away the fabrics, after looking at them all. They went where they should and that took a little pulling and tugging till they were all tucked away. So now you two sat and rested.

“Is my baby going to tell me what she has been up to while we were apart?”

You rose your head from the wonderful nook of his shoulder and throat. “I tried working on the Mad Hatter’s chair, but I missed you too much.”

“So you missed me?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I wanted to spend time with you. How, I have no idea.” You shrugged. “But somehow.”

“We’ll think of something. I’d like you to spend the night.” A smirk that sent butterflies, curled his lips.

“Oh?”

His eyes twinkled. “Yes. We have more catching up to do.”

@spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @nebulastarr @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97-blog1 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @professionalclown123 @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @sioniss @mrskenobi19 @bdffkierenwalker

[moku-youbi]

I didn't start this post as an album review a decade and a half too late...

But here we are. disclaimer that this is full of digressions and might not matter to anyone except for me. I'm not really interested in arguing about who does these things "better," like those critical at the time did. I love MCR just as much as FOB, and Green Day holds a special place in my heart, but lyrically Pete speaks to me the most, and guess what? I can love more than one band that does similar things for different reasons???

to this day, I do not understand how Folie a Deux was so roundly dismissed and/or hated on by FOB fans. Purists want to act like emo as a genre can't draw on or include anything else, which I've always found obnoxious as hell anyway, so maybe that's why I don't understand the hate. But it's particularly funny to me, because I think in a lot of ways this is one of the darkest albums lyrically with a lot of tragically, aggressively dismal outlooks from Pete on his mental health and suicidal ideation. It's some of his most honest, rawest truths, but because of the music it's set to, his fans accused him of selling out instead of listening to what he was saying.

Songs like "27" (so named for the infamous 27 Club, which Pete was just slightly past at the time of writing it), "(Coffee's for Closers)," "Tiffany Blews," "What a Catch, Donnie," "w.a.m.s.," "20 Dollar Nosebleed," and "West Coast Smoker," (over half of the 13 song album) deal heavily with themes of lack of self-worth, the vicious cycle of drug use to deal with depression(both legal and illicit), conflating mental illness with talent, lack of control over his own life, struggling with feelings ungrateful in the face of fame (what does someone so famous/wealthy/well-loved/good-looking have to complain about anyway, cry-baby?!), being accused of using his mental illness as a prop, or faking it for notoriety, unable to find a human connection or not being able to hold onto it when he does, and on, and on, and on, all laced through, sometimes subtly, sometimes overtly, with this idea that he doesn't know how to continue living, wants something desperately to show him how to continue living.

It's someone screaming for help, and given that Pete later discussed much of the inspiration coming from his feeling of the inevitability of the band's breakup, it's no wonder. These things are lyrically explicit or discussed in depth in interviews: He saw Fall Out Boy as the thing that had kept him alive past 27 (Pete and his management legitimately thought he would not live past that age). He saw Patrick as someone he was very close to, who understood him, something he regularly says feels impossible to him (what a match/I'm half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet). And he saw it falling apart (two songs acknowledge how tired they're getting in their first lines, "The (shipped) Gold Standard" and "20 Dollar Nosebleed" with Sometimes I wanna quit this song and become an accountant now/But I'm no good at math and besides the dollar is down and Have you ever wanted to disappear/And join a monastery, respectively). In "Tiffany Blews," Pete tells us he's A caterpillar that got stuck/Mr. Moth, come quick with any luck/A long walk to a dark house/A roman candle heart keep us far apart. He'd made it halfway through this transformation into something or someone else, maybe someone healthier or at least past self-destructive tendencies, and now he's stuck. He doesn't know what's coming next, but he needs it fast because he doesn't know if he can hold on for it. (Slightly off-topic, but I can't help but wonder how seeing Panic! at the Disco's split might have fucked him up over it even more--thank fuck things went much better for Fall Out Boy in that regard...)(If this is all getting you down, just remember the hiatus ended, and we have several beautiful albums that followed.) (Also off topic, but if you're an FOB fan and haven't listened to Pete's hiatus band's work, you are seriously missing the fuck out. I'll do a post on that later...)

But FOB fans are notoriously hard to please, something Pete acknowledges frequently on this album as well as others (on "She's My Winona" Patrick sings, Even the young ones become irrelevant/They always bring up how you changed/Never the same person when I go to sleep/As when I wake up,) while simultaneously letting them know he doesn't give a fuck (All of "I Don't Care").

I mean, I get that it's not a perfect album, but it's so full of pomp and passion, with all these catchy, pop-y choruses that make you wanna sing along at the top of your lungs while racing through the city with windows down (yes, okay, I'm harkening back to Infinity on High, but "Bang the Doldrums" is one of my favourite songs ever, so...) Poignant and tragic or breezy and giddy or maybe sometimes just a little bombastic, but with style. It also is a preview of some of the internal conflict over creative control that led to their hiatus, and the lyrical and stylistic changes from the albums that came after it ended. You can almost divide FOB's sound into Before Folie a Deux and After Folie a Deux (others will argue that Infinity on High marks that change. I think it has a lot more in common with what came before than what came after, but that's just me. I could alternately see their career as 3 distinct eras with 1 being PR/EOwYG, TTtYG, FUtCT, 2 being IoH and FaD, and 3 being everything post hiatus thus far, but I digress even further...)

But there are so few artists out there that create an album with such a mishmash of songs and pull it off. I mean, the rock opera anthems, power ballads, funk, 60's and 70's pop and rock influences, and whatever the hell "20 Dollar Nosebleed" is (other than absolutely delightful, especially with Brendon's vocals in there merging beautifully with Patrick's)--ragtime? IDEK?

There's so much in these lyrics, from the self-aware struggle for authenticity given their wealth and fame ("Disloyal Order of Water Buffalo": imperfect boys/With their perfect ploys/Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy). Pete's self-destructiveness, tempered by impending fatherhood: ("She's My Wyonna:" The only thing suicidal here is the door/We had a good run/Even I have to admit/Life's just a pace-car on death/Only less diligent/Hell or Glory/I don't want anything in between/Then came a baby boy with long eyelashes/Daddy said, "you gotta show the world the thunder!"), and maybe bitterness over the mockery made of his suicide attempts ("West Coast Smoker:" Don't feel bad for the suicidal cats/Gotta kill themselves 9 times before they get it right.) The politically invective ("20 Dollar Nosebleed:" The man who would be king goes to the/Desert the same war his dad rehearsed/Came back with flags on coffins and said/We won, oh, we won). The absolute tragic (All of "27," really, but starting off rough with, If home is where the heart is/then we're all just fucked/I can't remember.) And the just plain fun ("w.a.m.s.:" My head's in heaven/My soles are in hell/Let's meet in the purgatory of my hips and get well, and the absurdly whimsicality of "20 Dollar Nosebleed's chorus," Ba ba ba ba Benzedrine, bla bla bla Benzedrine/Ba ba ba ba ba Benzedrine, ahh.

I understand how scary it can be as a fan of a particular musician or band when their sound changes. I get it in a very profound way I'll touch on later in a different post, because this one is getting out of hand. But if we insist on our artists never changing, then we're just going to stagnate right along with them. Growth and change can be painful, but it can lead to beautiful things. Folie a Deux was Fall Out Boy going through growing pains, as individuals in their personal and professional lives, and as artists, both together and separately. I am as thankful for it as I am for everything they've created and shared with us. Even the few songs of theirs that aren't to my tastes. Either you accept that you aren't interested in authenticity so much as playing to your expectations, or you can't yell at them about betraying you.

[happyk44]

Warning: Cursed wolf!Jason is in this. Proceed at your own risk.

This is also just a joke fic. The actual "Jason visits Percy at the Nome" fic will be much different and come out next week.

So far Sadie had a pretty upbeat look on demigods. Percy was nice, helpful, always up to lend a hand. Nico was funny and skilled. Despite the sailor mouth, Hazel was the sweetest little egg ever.

So she didn't have many qualms when Hazel asked if she could bring a friend over. Like Nico, her presence was spry, a random occurence once every other month but she when she visited she sat with Percy for a bit before vanishing into Walt's room to pick up some more lessons on jewelry making. Walt had found an excellent, cheap supplier for his Etsy store and sometimes payment was less cash and more hands-on. Anything he sold that she made, they split the profit on.

It was really cute. Even if Walt ended up banning business talk.

Apparently being the daughter of the god of wealth also meant Hazel had a keen eye for that sort of thing and Walt had a firm policy on affordability. At least for now.

Monopoly was always an interesting game to watch her and Nico play.

"I got it!" Cleo yelled as she bounded towards the door. When she opened it, she beamed. "Hazel!"

The others loved Hazel.

Sadie couldn't disagree with that.

"Hey!" she called out as Hazel entered the room, tall blonde boy in tow. "Carter's out with Walt so I'm in charge." One of the newest anklebiters - Zira - snorted and Sadie flicked her ear. "This your friend?"

"Hi." The boy stuck out his hand. "I'm Jason."

Sadie learnt more about Jason from Hazel than Percy. But that wasn't surprising. Percy regulated all talks to his mom, Annabeth and Grover. His step-dad rarely even sprouted into the conversation and that was the one Percy had a good relationship with. She supposed it was because they represented his life pre-chaos. Pre-quests, pre-demands, pre-gods dragging him back and forth like they were cats with a piece of yarn.

Jason was firmly rooted on the other side of that. Not that he didn't get mentioned. It was just sparingly. Though, as time went on and Percy had begun to relax, he seemed more open to talking about his other friends.

Sadie ignored his hand. "Nice to meet you. Hazel's told me a lot." She leaned up off the couch, sprawling over the arm rest until she could see the edges of the pool outside the sliding doors. "PERCY! YOUR WHITE FRIEND IS HERE!"

Jason let out a little choked noise, while Hazel bit her lip, unable to stop from smiling.

"Ha ha ha." Percy pushed the door open enough to let Felix squeeze in next to him, towel thrown around his shoulders. He smiled, soft. "Hey, Jay! I didn't know you were coming."

The change was instantaneous. Whereas before he'd been standing tall, thin-lipped and tense, now he'd devolved into an excitable mess, eyes growing wide behind his glasses.

"Percy!"

Percy's face fell. "Oh fuck."

Jason grabbed the back of the couch, leaping over it and scrambling forward. Without a moment of hesitation, Percy growing stiff and frozen as he pounced on him, his tongue was out, licking at Percy's mouth like...

Well, like a dog.

"What the fuck?"

Hazel laughed quietly. "Jason was... Raised by wolves."

Distantly Sadie could remember her and Nico making jokes about their resident wolf boy. Something about certain Roman kids being taught by a wolf goddess or whatever. She did not anticipate this.

He whined low, animalistic, before rubbing his face all over Percy's neck and chest.

When he was done, Percy put one hand on his shoulder and shoved him, using the other to wipe away the glistening saliva on his face. "Nice to see you too, Jay." He licked his lips then immediately grimaced. "Oh, that was a mistake."

Jason snorted and eased back, letting Percy's hand fall from his shoulder as he fixed up his glasses. "You should call more, man." He snuggled up into Percy's side. "I miss my friend."

Percy grinned and patted his head softly. Jason sniffed. Then sniffed again. Then pulled back, looking Percy up and down.

Hazel tensed. "Jason, don't-"

He grabbed Percy's shoulders and pushed him down as much as he could, tongue immediately tangling in Percy's damp hair. Percy swore.

"Oh for fucks sake," Hazel hissed. "DO NOT GROOM HIM, HE'S COVERED IN CHLORINE."

Jason had somehow wrestled himself on top of Percy now. It was kind of funny to see Percy splayed out on the ground, looking defeated as some kid was licking the top of his head.

"He smells weird!" Jason protested, flailing as Hazel yanked him off. "Hazel, he smells so bad."

"Feeling the love," Percy muttered into the tile.

"I need to clean him!" Jason struggled in her grip, which, was also really fucking funny given he was full foot taller than her. "It's been too long. Pack bonding!"

Behind them, Sadie watched Nico poke his head through the doors, frowning, and then immediately turn back around as soon as he saw the back of Jason's head.

"Pack bonding?" Sadie leaned forward. And, because torturing Percy in mundane and stupid ways was her favourite pastime, she added, "Do show us, wolf boy Jason"

Zira giggled. Beside her, her sister clapped her hands and shouted, "Puppy, puppy, puppy!"

"Yeah, Nita," Percy grunted, trying to claw his way out from under Jason's weight. "He's a huge puppy."

"No, you're the puppy," Jason muttered. He tilted his head back. "What if I use a comb?" Hazel glared at him. "I promise I won't throw it in the fire this time."

"I need so many more stories," Sadie whispered. This was by far one of the weirdest and best things she'd ever seen and she needed to see and hear more. At a safe distance. Preferably while wearing a mask. "So many more stories."

Percy just groaned and covered his face.