#don't fuck with the roman

[firephoenix2305]

This is a Rory Williams appreciation post

Because I have recently finished season 6 and I need to shout about it to someone.

(Disclaimer: Severe season 5 and 6 spoilers ahead. If you haven't watched them yet, run away very very fast. Or don't, it's up to you. But you have been warned)

Okay, don't get me wrong. I love Amy, she's great. And I love The Doctor, because well, he's The Doctor, and also Matt Smith, so he's great too.

But.

But. But. But

If I had to pick a favorite...

Rory. Fucking.Arthur. Williams.

I don't even know where to start with this man.

The way he loves Amy. The way he cares about her more than the entire goddamn universe. The way he DOES NOT BUDGE from her side even when she kisses another man the night before their wedding, then proceeds to severely third-wheel him in a very Mickey Smith sort of way for the better part of two episodes (which in retrospect isn't really that much, but STILL) and takes her sweet time to realize she is in love with him.

We are talking, ladies and gentlemen, about the Last goddamn Centurion. This is a man who willingly lived through every single second of 2000 years of human history only to protect Amy Pond. 2000 years without so much as a wink of sleep, or rest, or any synonym of the word. How does this man's heart not physically burst from the sheer amount of love he has for Amy?!?!

I just...I want one. I want a Rory. Does anybody know where I can find a Rory? Pretty please?

And another thing. I'm not sure what it was that Rory did to the writers of this show but JESUS CHRIST. Why so much hate?

And just to prove I'm not even exaggerating, here's a brief summary of some of the things which have happened to this poor guy in seasons 5 and 6. (From the point where he officially joins Amy and The Doctor in the TARDIS onwards, that is)

- S5E7. Killed by the Eknodine in the Dream Lord's fake reality. (And given that horrible ponytail, btw)

- S5E9. Murdered in cold blood by a rogue Silurian, then absorbed by a time crack and hence deleted from the memory of the entire universe. (Being murdered obviously wasn't enough, no)

- S5E13. This is a big one. Revived as an Auton, realized Amy doesn't remember him, then when Amy finally does remember he unwillingly kills her because of his programming (which he eventually breaks free from), stays with the Pandorica for 2000 odd years and finally, after all of that, gets erased from reality. Again. (But it's okay because The Doctor has rebooted the universe, so real Rory came back. Or, rather, never left in the first place. Doctor Who is complicated, okay?!)

- S6E3. To start off the season well, he drowns and practically dies, and is then transferred to a spaceship healing facility where he is essentially hooked to a live support system until Amy brings him back to life.

- S6E4. Tortured and "killed" by the thing controlling the TARDIS, who had a blast warping time and making him go crazy and ultimately making him die of old age. (Not sure if it even counts as a death, but his rotting skeleton was there, so I'm counting it)

- S6E6. Finds out that his wife is not actually his wife but is instead a bunch of sentient flesh which is pretending to be his wife; and that his actual wife is nine months pregnant and currently giving birth to their daughter God knows where. (I did say it was complicated).

- S6E7. Finds Amy and baby Melody, only to lose Melody to the creepy eye patch lady because having lost Amy in the exact same way the previous episode clearly wasn't enough torture for him.

- S6E10. Has "other" Amy (the older version) absolutely hate his guts for something which isn't his fault at all, and has to re-convince her that she loves him. Again. (Seriously, Amy?). Then, he has to sacrifice the other Amy to save his Amy, which was extremely painful for him. (Man, this season gets weirder and weirder, doesn't it?)

- S6E13. Suffers inhumane amounts of pain and almost dies (again) when he lets himself be electrocuted by the eye patch thingy to give Amy, River and The Doctor time to escape. (I know this wasn't technically the same Rory that went through all those other things, but I decided to include it anyway)

AND I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED SEASON 7 YET. Give the man a break! And stop killing him, for God's sake!

(I know this won't happen, because although I haven't watched S7 I accidentally spoiled the whole weeping angel business to myself, so yeah)

And lastly, this scene >>>

Do. Not. Fuck. With the roman.

I just love him.

That is all. Thanks for hearing me out, I feel better.

(@capinejghafa was the furthest back I could track these gifs, but I don't know if they were the one who made them).

[reallilystuff]

they call me two the way i be timing

(ooooooo you want to listen to Honey I'm Home by Ghost and Pals sooooo badly..... charon and norman skin for two time and azure when?)

ref below cut you know the drill

dude. I wanna draw them and azure as the Matryoshka PV so badly. .... but also I wanna draw Elliot as Skeleton Orchestra and Lilia because there's literally an emote for thst ingame......oughhhhhh........

[kingkat12]

unclean (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: angst, jealousy-schemes, mentions of sex, weird biblical references lol, ANGST (ouch ouch ouch)

summary: will you ever feel clean again? this has become too much-- how are you supposed to make a decision when the people in your life are pulling you in different directions? all you can do is try not to break.

word count: 6,150 (warming y'all up for the last chapter oop)

← previous chapter | next chapter →

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

a/n: THANK YOU FOR 1K FOLLOWERS!! enjoy the second-to-last chapter and the calm before the absolute shitstorm;) MWAH, thank you for all your support my lovelies!!<333

"Think you'll ever be clean again?"

Roman's words echoed in my mind over and over; I realized that my answer was no.

I felt dirty.

Dirty, unclean, and filthy, all the fucking time.

The hallway was loud today, but Letha walked beside me like she was floating through a quieter world, untouched by the noise, untouched by all filth. She always had that kind of ease, that effortless grace that made people part around her without her having to ask them to. Was Letha maybe the modern equivalent of Moses? 

... That was an odd thought; certainly not one I wanted to think again.

Then again, it was either weird biblical references or thoughts about Roman. The weirder my thoughts were, the more they interfered with anything Roman-related that could bring forth a hefty blush to my cheeks, or a feeling of doom settling in my chest.

I was unclean.

And I felt like a dirty fucking whore.

I kept my head down, tugging my jacket higher over my shoulder, conscious of the way the collar barely covered the faint smudge of the hickey Roman had left on my neck from our time in the library. I did my best to conceal it this morning, but I was still terrified the blooming colors were shining through-- Letha hadn't noticed it yet, and I wanted to keep it that way. I had even tried to scrub the hickey off in the shower despite knowing it wouldn't work; I was getting desperate. I had cried, brought my hands over the marks over and over, like I was begging them to go away and disappear.

Marked.

Unclean.

Filthy.

Filthy fucking liar.

"So..." Letha started, brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear as she smiled knowingly. Immediately, I sensed that this wasn't going to be good. "There's this guy... his name is Jack, and he told me to tell you that he's into you."

I blinked. "What?" Who?

"I also told him I'd ask if you were interested," She cast me a sideways glance, beaming at me like she was serving me the best news of the century. "I think you should be."

My stomach twisted. "Letha!--"

"Don't say no yet!" She looped her arm through mine, warm and insistent. "He's sweet. You need someone sweet!"

I didn't want someone sweet-- I wanted the devil reincarnate that haunted my every waking moment, also known as Roman Godfrey. "Jack... Wang?" I tried. "Which Jack are we talking about?"

Letha bit her lip to contain an excited giggle, squeezing my arm; "Jack Edwards!--"

"No!" The words slipped past my mouth before I could stop them. I cleared my throat, hoping to recover from my outburst. "Not him... He's one of Roman's friends. That's really fucked up."

Letha sighed; disappointment read all over her face. "You'd never have to actually like the guy," she pressed. "Just... entertain it for a little while. Give Roman a taste of his own medicine. Don't you think he deserves it, after keeping... that from you?" 

She couldn't say the word out loud in the hallway-- upir.

Because that was the reason we were in this station in the first place, the fact that Roman was a upir.

The idea of making him taste his own medicine made my stomach twist, and not entirely from disgust. I hated the thought of stooping to his level, playing some shallow game... But the image flickered unbidden through my mind; Roman's dark eyes snapping toward me across the room, his smile dropping as I lean just a little too close to some other guy, making him watch me the way I had been forced to watch him too.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking away the thought. "It's childish,"

"He's been childish since the day you broke up! Why should you have to be the bigger person?"

If Letha knew the real truth of what Roman had actually done after we broke up, she'd have a heart attack. There was no way in hell I'd tell her about what happened in the library some days ago. My heart thudded unevenly in my chest; maybe I was being the bigger person because I wanted to be? Because I still loved him, even though I hated him for everything he had done to me, even though he had been a upir all along. Despite my attempts at staying calm and neutral, Roman's voice echoed in my head, images of him curling his fingers inside me with that evil smirk on his face flashing before my eyes; "Think you'll ever be clean of me again?"

Never.

Never.

Letha watched me disassociate and shudder, and her eyes gleamed like she already knew she had me hooked. "This will help you get over him, y'know? I only want what's best for you,"

I exhaled slowly through my nose, fingers curling into fists. It was a terrible idea-- reckless, messy, everything I wasn't supposed to want. But God, how I wanted him to hurt too, for all the lies, all the girls, and for the pathetic mess he had made of me in the library.

Maybe this would scrub me clean of the mess we'd made?

My silence was enough of an answer for Letha. Her smile turned smug as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "There ya go,"

I shot her a glare, but she only giggled under her breath; "It's perfect," she purred, voice teasing. "It'll drive him crazy!--"

"Shouldn't you maybe be a little more worried about your own life?" I snapped. "Why are you so obsessed with mine?"

It took me a second to realize what I had just said. My eyes widened at the same time as Letha's, and her hook around my arm lessened. Oddly enough, there was something satisfactory about seeing her like this-- I had no idea what came over me when I continued; "Instead of setting me up with more guys, why can't we talk about who you're fucking?"

"No one!" Letha huffed, retracting her arm. "What's come over you?!"

The more I watched her bewildered and offended expression, the more I wanted to dig my thumbs into her eyes and split her skull open; that way, I could maybe finally get to see what she was plotting in there. "Don't you have anyone running around you? You always do,"

"Not--" Letha cleared her throat, attempting to save face. "Not recently, no."

"Are you sure?"

"I-- Seriously, I don't get you!" Letha stopped walking in the middle of the hallway, staring back at me in disbelief. "I'm trying to be nice and keep you distracted, and this is how you repay me?"

I placed myself in front of her, folding my arms over my chest. "Why are you getting so defensive?" It felt like I had found an odd rope in the forest, and I was pulling at it with all my might-- I had struck gold, hadn't I? 

Letha's lips parted, wanting to argue, but nothing came out. A shadow flickered over her face-- too quick, too subtle, but I caught it. There was something there. For a moment, I thought she might actually tell me. But then, just as quickly, she smoothed out her features, letting out a soft, breathy laugh like I'd said something ridiculous; "You're impossible," she muttered, shaking her head.

I cocked a brow. "I'm... impossible?"

"You're just lashing out because you don't want to admit I'm right," she teased, looping her arm back through mine like I hadn't just cornered her. "But I get it. It's scary, right? The idea of actually moving on?"

My pulse stuttered. I opened my mouth to push again, because I knew I was right, I could feel it-- but Letha was already moving, already steering the conversation back onto safer ground.

She gave me time to let her words sink in, studying my face with that keen, knowing gaze, like she was waiting for me to break.

"Letha--"

"I just want you to be happy," Letha murmured, reaching forward to put her hand on my shoulder with an earnest touch. "And I know you won't be if you keep waiting for Roman to change."

If only she knew I wasn't waiting for him to change-- I was waiting for the end of the week, when I hoped my answer would come stumbling into my mind with no effort at all. However, it was such a clean, practiced shift in her tone, that for a second, I doubted myself; had I really imagined that flicker of something in her eyes? Was I reading too much into this?

Letha wasn't the enemy here.

She was my friend.

... Right?

"I have to go," she eventually said, giving me a final squeeze before slipping away. "But think about it, okay? Being seen with a friend of Roman would fry his crazy nympho brain." Letha didn't wait for a response-- Letha Godfrey never waited for anyone. She was already blending back into the flow of students, graceful as ever, like she hadn't just left a rock lodged in my throat.

I let out a sharp exhale before I turned back to find my locker, shaken up by the conversation. This was nuts-- was I supposed to let one of Roman's friends flirt with me? Why was he even interested in me? Roman didn't have that many friends in the first place anyway, so I knew this was risky.

With shaky fingers, I worked the combination of my locker, still rattled from the conversation--

Until my body froze.

There was torn page splayed on top of my unorganized heap of books. Someone had snuck it in between the cracks of my locker.

I pulled it out slowly, staring down at the words, ink sinking into the delicate paper; it was a passage from The Picture of Dorian Gray.

You have killed my love. You used to stir my imagination. Now you don't even stir my curiosity. You simply produce no effect. I loved you because you were marvellous, because you had genius and intellect, because you realized the dreams of great poets and gave great substance to the shadows of art. You have thrown it all away. You are shallow and stupid.

What... 

... The actual fuck?

I held back a gasp of shock and disgust, fighting the urge to crumple up the page and throw it to the floor to stomp it. It was clear as day that Roman had left me this-- who else would assume this was a good thing to leave the girl you're begging to take you back? 

Was he trying to prove a point?

Was he trying to tell me that I was shallow and stupid for thinking about throwing everything between us away?

With an angry huff, I stuffed the page into my back pocket-- I was definitely going to burn it when I got home.

... Maybe then, I'd feel clean?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I had been angry before, yes; but nothing could beat the tsunami of rage ravaging through me after seeing that stupid passage.

I sat on the bleachers during lunch the next day, tucked into one of the higher rows, the sun casting sharp shadows along the field below-- I angrily picked at the edge of my water bottle label, trying to drown out the chatter of the students scattered around the stands. Letha sat beside me, legs crossed, her chin delicately propped on one hand; "Don't look now," she murmured, voice soft and secretive. "But... I think your admirer is on his way."

My head snapped up to look at her before I could stop myself. "There's no fucking way," I hissed under my breath. "He's here? Now?"

Letha's grin flickered, bright with amusement. My stomach turned as I followed her gaze-- and sure enough, there he was. Jack Edwards, one of the jocks from Roman's cocky friend group. He strolled across the field with some guys I recognized from before, hands stuffed into his pockets, cutting through the groups of lingering students like he owned the place.

My pulse quickened. Panic rose in my chest as I glared at Letha; "You didn't,"

"I might've... suggested you needed some cheering up today," Her eyes sparkled, wicked and bright. "He was more than happy to oblige!"

"Cheering up?! Letha, I didn't agree to this!" With a groan, I buried my face in my hands, hoping the ground would open and swallow me whole. I didn't want anyone but Roman anyway-- fucking hell, I should've been more clear with Letha.

On the other hand, she looked proud as ever; "I'm the best, aren't I?"

Heat flooded my face. I gripped the edge of the bleacher so tightly my knuckles ached. "Letha, I'm two seconds away from lobotomizing myself with my fucking water bottle because of you!"

"Oh, come on," she whispered, leaning in close. "It's just a little harmless fun! You need some distractions, we talked about this!"

But there was nothing harmless about the way Jack's eyes locked onto mine as he climbed the steps.

Unclean.

Filthy.

I felt dirty-- I shouldn't be indulging in this.

Trapped, pinned beneath Letha's gaze, I tried to contain my panic; "Why the fuck is he even into me? He's, like, very close to Roman, no?"

"Well..." Letha cleared her throat, shooting Jack a sweet smile as she waved him over to us. This would've been the perfect time to catapult myself out of my seat and up into the sun's orbit. "Men are primitive, y'know? If they think they can get laid, they don't really care how or with whom."

"Ew, Letha!" I was sick to my stomach just imagining that I'd sleep with anyone that wasn't Roman. 

"Relax," she cooed, brushing her fingers lightly against my arm. "It's only a game! You don't have to do anything but lead him on a bit."

I couldn't breathe.

And then Jack approached-- standing just below our row, flashing a grin that made my stomach flip. "Hey, girls," he murmured. "Need some company?"

I wished the ground would swallow me whole. Before I could even muster up a half-hearted response, Letha was already smoothing down her skirt and rising to her feet. "You bet! I'll leave you two to it," she said sweetly, flashing me a look that was both knowing and victorious before slipping down the steps like she had just orchestrated the most harmless, innocent thing in the world.

But it wasn't harmless, not when my stomach was twisting itself into knots, and definitely not innocent.

And then, like a twist of fate, I felt a shiver run up my spine— I knew that feeling like I knew my own breath. There was a tingling sensation at the front of my brain, sending repeated signals to turn my head.

... Oh no.

I knew who could be doing this to me.

With a pit in my stomach, I turned my head slightly, pulse pounding in my ears, and sure enough, there he was.

Roman appeared at the far end of the field with the rest of his friends, just beyond the fences, half in the shadows of the trees. The upper button of his shirt was unbuttoned, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, but his posture was rigid, unreadable.

Except I could read him.

The tight set of his jaw, the slight flare of his nostrils, the way his head tipped, just barely, like he was daring me to keep looking at him. 

I opened my mouth (whether to call out to Roman or to breathe, I wasn't sure), but before I could do either, Jack's voice pulled me back; "So," he drawled, taking the empty space beside me. "What's a pretty thing like you doing all the way up here, huh?"

I barely heard him. My eyes flickered back to Roman instinctively, but--

He was already gone.

A cold wave of panic crashed over me. I sat up straighter, scanning the field, searching, aching--but there was nothing. No sign of him, like he had never been there at all.

Except he had been, and he had seen everything. He had seen Jack sitting down next to me, he had seen the hungry look in his eyes; I had an inkling that this was going to bite me in the ass. I had screwed over my one-week truce with Roman, all because of Letha's convincing. Swallowing the thick rock in my throat, my mind raced with everything unsaid, everything unfixable. What had I done?

I turned to Jack, not bothering to sweeten my tone; "Let's cut the bullshit, yeah? What are you doing here?"

Blinking, he let out a shocked laugh. He fixed his hair in an oddly familiar manner (it wouldn't surprise me if he had picked it up from Roman) before he recovered. "I've been... trying to get your number for a while. Before Roman got to you, actually,"

... What? 

I felt my face soften. "Oh," 

Jack chuckled, shaking his head as he darted his gaze to the field in front of us. "Godfrey called dibs out of nowhere," he explained. "And if we are to follow bro-code, I had to pull away."

"This isn't very bro-code friendly, though?" It was true-- I had seen Jack hanging out with Roman recently, so they couldn't have had a falling out. "Roman could rip your throat out for this." 

He could. He genuinely could. 

I held back a shudder as I watched Jack, and the way the sun reflected off his pitch black hair. Eventually, he spoke; "Roman's been preoccupied with other girls as of late, so I figured I'd shoot my shot," He was smiling at me now, so smug, so sure of himself-- it was almost charming. "I mean, I had to see if the rumours were true."

I blinked at him, barely processing. "What rumors?"

Jack only grinned wider; "That you're finally over Godfrey,"

My stomach dropped.

Over him? Over Roman?

The laugh that almost escaped my throat was so bitter I had to bite down on my lip to keep it in. I had spent every second of every day thinking about him, hurting over him, wanting him. There was no version of my life where I just moved on.

I should have shut Jack down immediately. I should have told him to go find some other girl to bother, that I wasn't interested, that Letha had put him up to this for her own amusement-- but instead, I just stared at him, hollowed out, my hands tightening around the hem of my skirt as my mind spiralled.

Had Roman lied to me? Was he actually preoccupied with other girls? Was he maybe so desperate to keep me around because I'd be an easy lay? Maybe he was scared I'd tell his secret to people if he didn't keep me close?

I felt my breath constrict in my chest; "He's sleeping with the cheerleaders, isn't he?"

Jack blinked. "Roman?"

"Is he?" Please, please, no. If he had lied to me about this, I would die on the spot.

Something in Jack's charming eyes changed, but I didn't need Sherlock Holmes to decode that look for me-- they softened with the realization that I would probably never be over Roman. I would always be Roman's girl, just like every other girl at this school that had ever been involved with him. Therefore, I watched as Jack sighed, shaking his head; "Nope. I would've heard the details by now, if so,"

I instantly felt my heart fall into its right place. "Thank you," I whispered.

Jack sank back into his seat, looking back at the field in front of us while he nodded to himself. I peeked the small smile; was he maybe relieved to get a proper answer? "Sorry to bother you, then," There was a certain ease about him that made me feel beyond comfortable-- he wasn't snappy about this becoming a failed attempt (unlike how a certain other blonde asshole would react), but he was simply accepting of the facts before him. In another universe, I would've probably gone for someone like Jack, someone confident, someone quietly strong.

I had no idea what came over me when I suddenly found myself smiling too; "You didn't bother me. It's kinda nice to talk to someone that isn't Letha,"

Jack glanced at me with a flirty chuckle. "She's a bit intense, right?"

"A bit, yeah," 

"I think she gets it from that Rumancek dude," Jack continued, shrugging matter-of-factly. "They're always hanging out, the both of them. Did you know that the guy once threatened to gut me for being a bad group partner during a lab project? Funny man... I don't get what she sees in him, but I guess the weirdos gotta find love somewhere too, right?"

... Wait.

What?

I straightened up in my seat. "Peter?"

Jack's eyes widened with intrigue-- "Why do I sense this is news to you?"

"They're not together like that," I huffed. "That'd be nuts. If Peter and Letha were sleeping together, Roman would have a field day chewing them out to the bone."

"Okay..." With a cocky laugh, Jack shrugged again; "I might've misinterpreted it, then. They hang out a lot behind school, that's all I've seen... looking all gooey and shit."

I had to put a stop to this rumor before it got to Roman. Knowing him, he'd jump to conclusions, and Letha could really, really suffer; "No, no... Even if they talk, then it's nothing like that,"

"Alright," Jack snorted. "Don't come running to me when you see that I'm right, though."

The sun, now dipping lower, cast long shadows across the field. It felt like the calm before a storm, and my ease began to settle into a rhythm. I was about to say something, maybe even something nice, but then, I heard it; the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps approaching. The air instantly grew colder, and I turned my head, dread pooling in my chest. My eyes locked on him-- Roman.

His presence was like a sudden freeze, like he was the shift in the atmosphere. He moved with a quiet intensity that made the world seem to shrink around him; I wanted to shrink into nothing as well, sucked into a black hole where I could hide. 

Before I could process it, Jack spoke again, his tone lowered, almost conspiratorial. "I don't know what it is about you two," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. "But you both always act like you're untouchable... and with him hanging around, I suppose you'll always be."

When Roman eventually reached us, he was completely still, frozen in a way I had never seen before. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they passed over me, barely acknowledging my presence. I felt my pulse quicken, my breath catching in my throat. There was something about his stoic expression that made my stomach flip, and it made me feel like I was about to be disciplined for acting out, just like the old days in elementary school. 

It was as if Roman couldn't quite let go of the distance between us, eyes flickering back and forth for a good second or two. Then, his gaze darted to Jack with unnatural speed-- upir, upir, upir. "Seriously?" Roman said, snapping his fingers at him as his condescending tone fuelled my anxiety. "You've really got nothing better to do than this?"

Jack froze for a split second, and I could almost hear the gears turning in his head, trying to process the shift in Roman's tone. His voice hadn't risen; it was the kind of tone that made it clear he wasn't in the mood for games, but it wasn't outright threatening-- just... annoyed.

However, to my surprise, Jack shot a grin. "Well, well, if it isn't the big bad Godfrey! Finally decided to join us, huh?"

Roman didn't seem amused at all by his antics-- quite the contrary. "She's not your problem, dude,"

Jack shrugged, undeterred, but his words were sharper than before; "She's not your property either, Roman,"

I held my breath. I really, really didn't want to be here. Little by little, I started sliding down my seat. Maybe if I hit the ground, I could slither away?

But the confrontation wasn't over-- Jack's grin became little more pointed with every second. "You sure you're not just holding onto her out of habit, man? You seemed pretty done before, when you were talking to Jessica,"

That name made me want to barf right down on Roman's shoes, and for my vomit to burn through the leather of his shoes. Jessica, the same girl that had tried to flirt with him at a party a while ago-- Jessica, the same girl he had threatened with his lighter, saying he'd burn her extensions off if she didn't shut up about me. Was he really that mad at me? Was he so mad that he was actually talking to a girl he despised just to get revenge for the heartbreak I had caused him?

Roman's jaw tightened, but he didn't immediately respond-- I knew this was the Godfrey look of mortification. It was clear that he didn't want me to know that he had talked to Jessica at all.

To make matters worse, Jack sensed this and kept pushing. He pointed between Roman and I, biting down on the look of glee spreading through his face. "I mean... you two aren't even together anymore, right? So why do you care if I'm talking to her?"

I could see that he was getting to Roman. A part of me wanted to grab Jack, shake him, and warn him that he was going up against the most dangerous carnivore on the planet, a upir, yet... another part of me wanted to see if Roman would actually snap. After his illustrative show of his control in the library last week, I wondered how this would apply in real life the second time around. 

Roman's chest tightened for a split second, and for just a moment, I was sure he'd flip, I was sure he'd just lunge at Jack to get it over with.

But alas--

"We might not be together anymore, but we still fuck,"

... No.

Oh God, no.

There was a beat of silence. 

My heart sunk in my chest, and I felt the blood drain from my face. It wasn't just the words-- it was the coldness in his voice, like he was speaking in a way that made it clear that pursuing me wasn't something Jack should even be thinking about.

On the other hand, Jack's grin faltered as his gaze flickered between Roman and I. I wondered whether he imagined when we had managed to have sex, where we had done it, what the timeline was-- that must've been a mortifying thought to think. I was certainly not jealous of him. Still, he opened his mouth to say something, anything, to salvage his pride.

But Roman cut him to it; "Maybe you should ask your little friend here what depths of desperation one must sink down into to get fucked on a library floor?"

I felt like the air had been sucked out of me, and it got to a point where I started pondering whether to get up and push my stupidly pretty ex-boyfriend down the bleachers. Then, my next thought was that it probably wouldn't hurt him at all. I hadn't expected to, but I missed thinking about other things, like whether Letha actually was the modern-day Moses or not. And Jack...  poor Jack's face went pale. 

Roman's eyes never left him, and I spotted the evil shimmer in his eyes, the look of complete and utter evil glee. Beyond happy with himself, he let out a huff of pride before he stuffed his hands into his pockets-- "Get lost, dude," he said, his tone final, deadly. "This one's mine."

Jack didn't say another word. He was quick to get up, muttering something under his breath that was unmistakable; "Freaks," 

I sat frozen to my seat, my heart still racing, trying to process what had just happened as I watched him leave, huffing as he disappeared down the bleachers. It felt like someone had just poured a bucket of cold water on me, and now I was left to shiver and shudder.

Eventually, Roman turned to me with that same evil smirk I secretly loved; "You should stop talking to guys like that," he cooed, his tone soft with false concern. "You know they can't keep up, baby. Shoot a little higher, if you want to get over me so bad."

If I could kick the bleacher seat away from me when I shot up, I would. Stepping closer, I buried my pointer in Roman's chest; "Fuck off," I hissed. "You don't get to do this!--"

"No, I do," In an instant, his smirk was wiped off his face, and it revealed the bitter glimmer in his eyes as he grabbed my hand, urging me to get my fingers off of him. "We decided on a week's worth of peace, did you forget?"

Angered, I yanked my arm away from Roman with a groan. "You decided that! You cornered me with your fucking fingers inside me! How the fuck do you expect me to think clearly in that state?! On top of that, now you've managed to tell Jack we fucked, so congratulations! Letha will probably find out in an hour or two, and you've screwed me over again!"

Getting all of that in his face didn't seem easy-- Roman broke eye contact, letting his gaze fall down to his newly polished shoes. "Jack won't say anything," he mumbled. "And if anything, you simply deny it. I won't tell Letha anything if she asks me."

It took me a minute to really feel the weight of what he was saying. At the start of my whole journey with Roman, he was dying to tell Letha everything, and he would do anything for an opportunity to rat me out and get me in trouble-- but now, he was protecting me. From now on, I was sure he'd always want to do that. This snapped me out of my anger, and I retorted to a simple nod; "You owe me, by the way,"

Roman's eyes peeked up, his eyebrows raising-- "That's my line,"

I struggled to bite down on the smile that immediately threatened to crack across my lips. This was highly ironic. "Stop it," I whispered, carefully nudging him. "You owe me forty-nine ninety-nine."

Roman's cheeks seemed to warm from my touch. "What for?"

"The, uh..." I swallowed hard. "The plan B." 

It took him a few seconds to figure out what I had needed that for. Had he forgotten that he had come inside of me? Seemingly not; "Oh," Roman's hand shot to his pocket again, finding his wallet. "You took care of it?"

That line annoyed me to the point where the following words simply slipped past my mind-- "Of course I did! You're crazy if you think I'd have babies with you,"

Roman's hands froze as he reached for the dollar bills in his wallet. It wasn't for many seconds, and I would've missed it had I not been watching his every move. I felt like I had punched myself in the gut, and now I wondered whether he felt that way about it too. In silence, he gave me fifty dollars, not looking me in the eyes anymore. 

"Don't look so sad," I breathed, feeling my heart clench. "Roman, I--"

"I would've been happy," His jaw tightened, and he shoved the bills into my hand with more force than necessary, like he couldn't stand to have them in his grasp a second longer. "If it were with you... I would've been happy."

Roman didn't wait for a reply-- he didn't dare to. Turning on his heel, he stormed off down the bleachers, the sound of his boots echoing in the empty space. 

The fifty dollars burned in my hand. It felt like they were about to turn my flesh into burning lava, making a hole in my palms. I let Roman walk away, I let him leave; what else was I to do when I was this shell-shocked? 

I crumpled the dollars into my pocket, sniffling. 

When had the most beautiful relationship in my life managed to become... this?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

There comes a point when you have nothing more to say. There comes a point when it doesn't feel worth it anymore, when the pain becomes too much to bear, and your body materializes it-- most days, I could feel the sorrow like a ball in my hands, vibrating, ablaze in a cloud of fire, burning my fingers before slipping through them.

Being without Roman felt like waking up in a dead man's bedroom. Empty. It used to be a place filled with life, with love, yet now it was abandoned, destitute. I used to be a person filled with life, with love, yet now I was alone, rotting. 

I had done it all to myself. This was my own doing, and I had done it while wielding the sharpest of swords, forged just to fight the scariest of beings--

But Roman wasn't scary?

He wasn't even a full upir, something Letha had failed to mention.

If I closed my eyes, I could still see him kneeling before me, clutching onto my body as he sobbed into the fabric of my shirt. Pleading, crying, begging, begging, begging. The broken look in his eyes, the way his fingers trembled against me, holding me like he was breathing his last dying breath and wasting it on me. 

In my mind, when I visited the memory, I'd sink down to the floor with him. I'd bury my fingers in his hair and let him cry into the crook of my shoulder. I'd caress him, hold him, tell him everything was going to be alright, and that I loved him like I had loved no one else. 

Roman Godfrey used to be scary. Now, he was just a boy.

Wailing for comfort.

Begging for forgiveness.

Pleading for another chance to get back the life he had once led, the one I had so cruelly ripped from his trembling arms.

I couldn't breathe. Maybe it was the fact that I didn't want to? Maybe if I stopped breathing for long enough, I'd no longer have to feel the pain of being conscious? I could die of my own volition, on my terms, in my own time.

Yet then I'd...

I'd leave him.

Roman would be alone.

He'd continue walking this earth with no one by his side. He'd wander through centuries alone, he'd eat alone, he'd cry alone, he'd live alone, he'd be alone.

So I whispered; "I don't want you to be alone,"

I adjusted my phone where it lay on my pillow, making sure he'd be able to hear me when he got this voice message. "I don't want you to be alone... All those years, when everyone you know is dead. That was the most heartbreaking thing about all of this, Roman, that I found out that you're destined to live forever if... if you kill yourself..."

My lower lip quivered as I shifted in my bed, rubbing my tears into my skin. I shouldn't have bothered-- I had already drenched the pillow.

"So, whatever I end up choosing, Roman, you need to live," 

Please.

Please.

"You need to go on, and you need to stay strong... and make your heart steel if you must. Do whatever you need to do, just-- just don't do what would need to be done for you to... to be a full upir. Don't ever think about it. Don't even consider it. Could you promise me that?"

I blinked away my tears, rubbing my forehead in a circle with my pointer to hopefully alleviate the pain. 

Nothing ever did.

Nothing ever would.

"You said I'd never be clean of you," I whispered. "But you're not something I need to wash off my skin, Roman." 

Sniffling, I shifted-- I wondered whether he'd be able to hear the shuffling of my bedsheets. "I just want you to be happy. I really, really want you to be happy. So, if we don't end up together... think of me once in a while?"

I hoped he would.

I so desperately hoped he would. "... Please?" And with that, I broke. Letting into a loud hiccup of a sob, I hung up on Roman's voicemail. In the bleak dark of the night, I caught the time; 02:04.

And at 02:27, I got a twenty-three minute long voice message back.

I pressed play over and over;

"I love you,"

A whisper. Barely there.

"I love you, I love you, I love you,"

Again and again, soft, rhythmic, almost like a prayer. Like if he just said it enough times, it would make things right. It was the only thing he could say.

My thumb hovered over his name, over that tiny glowing green button. Roman was awake. I knew he was. Somewhere out there, he was awake with his phone still in his hands, maybe just waiting... maybe just hoping?

I choked my sobs against my pillows, my whole body trembling beneath the weight of the crushing heartbreak-- it didn't matter. None of it mattered, because I couldn't call him.

So I played it again.

And again.

And then I saved it twice; once on my phone, and once on my USB the next morning, just in case I ever forgot how it felt to be loved like that.

"I love you... I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,"

Roman loved me...

But would that be enough to save us?

At least I had until Friday to figure it out-- at Jasmine's party.

(a/n: AHHH I can't WAIT for y'all to see what's gonna go down at the party!! this was like a teeny tiny little appetizer... omfg. thank you so so much for reading this far!! 🥹����)

← previous chapter | next chapter →

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

loveliest taglist of all time:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium @pecxiebu

@mil88691 @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

@lilithskywalker @likecherriesinthespring @sadheartjellyfish @vadersangel

@shehangsbrightly @burningmiraclekingdom @dollforaswan @austinswhitewolf

@nico-velvet @shiiiii-okayyyy @theantagonistalwaysdies @blackbluerose666

@obexes @rosecoloureddudez @amoure020 @itsaeasykill

@succubustacy @carmillavalentine @scarledy @chaneloberlin62727

@belovedmoony @lokitargaryen @vienneviennaxx @ellie1725

@taintandviolent @sweatyconnoisseurstrawberry @amidthechaos

[indecisiveavocado]

Some notes on the name Palestine

TL;DR: Palestine is a colonialist name from a group trying to deny an indigenous group's indigenousness as part of a genocidal campaign. It may have acquired other meanings, but the etymology is still linked tightly to that, and it still carries that past with it. Anyone who considers themselves pro-indigenous should not use the term.

Let's rewind. The word Palestine is related to "Philistine"; indeed, it comes from them. So who were they?

In short, a bunch of Greeks who created a syncretic culture in what is now, roughly, Gaza. They mixed with the native people, called Canaanites. (We don't know what they called themselves - Philistine itself derives from a Biblical term.)

They vanished pretty fast, and then, a while later, the Romans came.

The indigenous population rebelled too much, so they embarked on a campaign of genocide. They killed people, of course. But they also raped enough women that Judaism is matrilineal. They sold people as slaves, barred them from their holy city and capital, Jerusalem (which they renamed). They destroyed the Jewish holy temple, the Second Temple (there is now a mosque on top of it).

And then they tried to deny that the indigenous population was, in fact, indigenous. They renamed the region Syria Palestina. Why? Because Philistines weren't around anymore. They could pretend there weren't any indigenous people to displace.

Over time, that word, Palestina, moved. It moved to Arabic, where it became Filastin. It moved to English, where it became Palestine.

But the indigenous name for the region (except, arguably, for Gaza, give or take) has never been Palestine.

We don't know what the Neanderthals, the first group there, called it.

But we know what many of the indigenous people call it. Eretz Yisrael. Or, in English, the Land of Israel.

("But wait!" you say. "You just said that in Arabic it was Filastin. Palestinians are native and speak Arabic!"

But they didn't speak Arabic back then. Arabic came with the Arab conquerers (who Palestinians aren't super related to, FYI). Arabs spread vastly during the Islamic conquests, but before that, they were primarily a desert people, whose homeland corresponded to roughly Saudi Arabia, although it extended to places like Syria and Oman. There are majority-Arab countries and places today that range from Morocco to Mauritania, Sudan to Iraq, Egypt to (parts of) Iran. Arabs are not indigenous to any of those places, and neither is Arabic.)

You may not support the Roman genocide. I hope you don't. But you are still using a term European colonialists used to erase indigenous identity as they genocided them, and it still carries that baggage.

(If you refuse to call the region Israel, Canaan is also a fine term - although it may get you some weird looks.)

[strangeasf]

in my head zack was never a gormogon's apprentice. in my head all interns are friends and often hang out together. it's just like the lab au. but daisy have a girlfriend. zack and sweets kiss. vincent and wendell also kiss. everyone is queer. cause I said so.

[notsogoodangel]

I'm just saying that there's no heterosexual explanation for AJ, as the Champion, having a twink actually running Parkour Civilization.

[frodosrings]

okay here is my typeface nerd post

what font would the members of the fellowship be?

FRODO : Garamond

this just makes sense to me. I couldn't decide if frodo would be a serif or sans-serif font, but garamond just fit for me the moment i thought of it

SAM : Helvetica

maybe some would disagree with this, but i knew sam would be a sans-serif font the moment i thought of him, helvetica just seems like a good classic

ARAGORN : Constantia

this man is the epitome of a serif font, ESPECIALLY one with old style numbers

GIMLI : Impact

sans-serif obviously, impact just feels right. bold and loud just like gimli

LEGOLAS : Kingsguard Calligraphy

he is definitely some sort of script font, something loose and easy like kingsguard.

BOROMIR : Baskerville

this is the only one i will NOT be taking criticism on. boromir is the absolute epitome of baskerville and i will die on this hill

GANDALF : Old English

like duh do i even need to explain

MERRY : Papyrus

don't even try to disagree, you know i'm right. if the papyrus font had a mascot it would be merry

PIPPIN : Puckery Tart

perhaps worse than papyrus but undeniably true. he's goofy and needs a goofy font. is it that rae dunn home goods font? yes it is, but let's pretend it is not

[daily-utsu-p]

For the first time in 10 years, Utsu-P and Sekihan are officially releasing music together!

This new EP 'PUPPETEER' features two new songs and two reworks.

Tracklist:

Yonpun Jakku Music (new)

PUPPETEER (new)

OGRE -PUPPETEER ver-

Apprentice Hades-2025-

The EP will release digitally on March 14, and physical copies will be sold at live shows starting March 23. The album art was drawn by mikuma.

[ignitesthestxrs]

there's something about the way people talk about john gaius (incl the way the author writes him) that is like. so absent of any connection to te ao māori that it's really discomforting. like even in posts that acknowledge him as not being white, they still talk about him like a white, american leftist guy in a way that makes it clear people just AREN'T perceiving him as a māori man from aotearoa.

and it's just really serves to hammer home how powerful and pervasive whiteness and american hegemony is. because TLT is probably the single most Kiwi series in years to explode on the global stage, and all the things i find fraught about it as a pākehā woman reading a series by a pākehā author are illegible to a greater fandom of americans discoursing about whether or not memes are a valid way of portraying queer love.

idk the part of my brain that lights up every time i see a capital Z printed somewhere because of the New Zealand Mentioned??? instinct will always be proud of these books and muir. but i find myself caught in this midpoint of excitement and validation over my culture finding a place on the global stage, frustration at how kiwi humour and means of conveying emotion is misinterpreted or declared facile by an international audience, frustrated also by how that international audience runs the characters in this book through a filter of american whiteness before it bothers to interpret them, and ESPECIALLY frustrated by how muir has done a pretty middling job of portraying te ao māori and the māoriness of her characters, but tht conversation doesn't circulate in the same way* because a big part of the audience doesn't even realise the conversation is there to be had.

which is not to say that muir has done a huge glaring racism that non-kiwis haven't noticed or anything, but rather that there are very definitely things that she has done well, things that she has done poorly, things that she didn't think about in the first book that she has tacked on or expanded upon in the later books, that are all worthy of discussion and critique that can't happen when the popular posts that float past my dash are about how this indigenous man is 'guy who won't shut up about having gone to oxford'

*to be clear here, i'm not saying these conversations have never happened, just that in terms of like, ambient posts that float round my very dykey dash, the discussions and meta that circulate on this the lesbian social media, are overwhelmingly stripped of any connection to aotearoa in general, let alone te ao māori in specific. and because of the nature of american internet hegemony this just,,,isn't noticed, because how does a fish know it's in the ocean u know? i have seen discussions along these lines come up, and it's there if i specifically go looking for it, but it's not present in the bulk of tlt content that has its own circulatory life and i jut find that grim and a part of why the fandom is difficult to engage with.

[shadesoftheshield]

"unleashing one of the most dangerous Seth Rollins we've ever seen"

[bitegore]

if you're an egotistical artist, you should use alt text.

hear me out. you want to show people your art, right? you want them to see the important details, the shit they should be blown away with... right? so they know how to compliment you and what they should be focusing on, no? and you want everyone to see it?

put a description in the alt text.

not just "my oc standing in front of a background" no get descriptive after you say that. focus on that shit you put in there. "a woman with beautiful eyes and an ornate hammer" better. what'd you spend three hours detailing? "wearing a shirt with an ornate lace pattern" better! what are you aiming for? "it looks like a classical portrait" THERE.

and having the alt text button means people who can see might click on it too. and then be like "wow i didn't notice half of these details". its true. happens to me pretty often. half the time they're like "this owns, omg, you guys should look at the alt text" because i did a good job describing it and there's details even they didn't catch until they read it and looked back over it.

if you like when people stroke the hell out of your ego and catch all the cool things in your art. and you want everyone to see your art. put some alt text on that thing. for serious.

[romatito]

So sorry if I asked you this already but how would you interpret Romano’s relationship with Lithuania?? Part of me thinks they may have had a friends with benefits situation or something like that when living in America, but then lost touch after Lithuania was under Soviet rule only to reconnect after the end of the cold war. I feel like today they’re probably pretty good friends, and they are pretty close with America as well and go to visit New York City to check out all the areas they used to hang out at during the roaring 20’s.

HI hello i have been sitting on this for a bit because ive literally been thinking about the relationship between these two recently and i wanted to answer it when i could actually get this sketchy art out lmao. i pretty much agree with everything you said lol, i think they do have a bond that developed during their time living together before the depression hit, and i love seeing other people explore that!

(more of my thoughts under the readmore lol)

i think that initially, it was awkward between them just because they are in two Very different places when they make it to america lol. lithuania may have been poor but he's finally getting space away from the russian empire, able to enjoy being himself again after the assembly of vilnius put an end to russification policies. romano, on the other hand, is suffering the ill-effects of the unification, and poverty is so terrible in his half of italy that tons of his people are emigrating in order to escape it -- once again the lesser italy brother. all of that, coupled with romano's standoffish personality and lithuania's tendency to make himself sick with worry, made interactions... difficult. i think america's blunt, unapologetic nature kind of forced them to interact more than they would have and without him, it would have taken a lot more time for them to settle around each other lmfao.

ofc once they're both more comfortable around each other, i think they keep a close friendship that others don't really expect! like they don't talk too much but they're both glad to see when the other is doing well -- and they'll stand up for one another if the situation ever calls for it.

[romanreigns]

There are no excuses or reasoning when it comes to this for me, so yeah, I can go from being a fan to not in the quickest way possible.

[beesgobzzzing]

the delulu isn't delulu any more Käärijä and Hooja are really working together. Or at least parts of Hooja is working with Käärijä.

SO! Hooja (both the main account, hoojahooja, and DJ Mårdhund's own account, mardismardgard) have been following Käärijä on IG since summer 2023, and Käärijä has been following them back since at LEAST March 29th this year.

Yesterday, November 25th, mardismardgard posts an IG story saying "Making music here in the machinery"

pay close attention to that piece of carpet at the bottom right of the photo.

today, November 26th, Mårdis keeps posting about being in Finland, and most importantly, posts a picture from his dinner, where a note on the table is visible with the text E-STUDIO WIFI

also today, Allu posts a picture from a studio, where there is an E-STUDIO sign clearly visible on the wall. Two people are seated at a mixing console and Käärijä is partially visible standing behind a mic.

notice that the carpet in this picture is identical to the sliver of carpet in the picture Mårdis posted?

it's fucking coming. they're cooking something. right now it's unclear if it's just Mårdis or if this is a full Käärijä x Hooja collab. but something sure is happening. words can not fucking express how hyped I am about this.

[beanghostprincess]

There was NO need to turn this short thing that is barely a fucking page in the manga into a whole scene with Sanji staring at Usopp from a distance with the sunset behind them and going "What is that idiot doing?" but in the softest of voices instead and turning around to smoke while he keeps listening to him. Like. No need to do it. Other than they're in love. Thank you.

[chief-girl]