#me projecting my shit on roman

[flame-cat]

relistening to the gravity falls commentary and hearing alex call grunkle stan a "deep well of sadness" really hit dif after the book of bill

[tequiilasunriise]

Annabel Lee & Fears: A Short Essay Based On Ep70

Here it is, folks, the truest crux of Annabel’s character, her deepest fears is not going mad or even people discovering she’s not as put together as she tries to appear, but rather:

Was that gambit of constant scheming and using others worth it, Annabel? Was always trying to think ten steps ahead and always keep yourself in a position of power and control truly worth it, because how can you ever be trusted when all you do is play 5D chess with everyone?

There is is, folks!!! Just like her greatest strength- her cunning willpower- is centered around a certain bright moon, Annabel’s greatest fear is rooted in Lenore. The deepest, darkest trenches of her soul, the one thing that would shatter her heart and send her lungs choking fer breath? The killing blow that would end her and make all these charades worthless? It’s Lenore seeing her constant conniving and asking Annabel, “Why would I be any different? You already have no problem using everyone else as a pawn, how could I ever possibly trust you, Annabel Lee?”

The way Annabel is SUCH a great morally grey character, y’all tell me you love hot villains yet many a time I’ve seen people calling Annabel too heartless. She’s the opposite! She cares!! SO MUCH!!! She would burn the world down if it meant kissing Lenore one last time, to the point where her deepest fear is losing Lenore in the process of trying to protect her. All Annabel knows is using manipulation to gain the upper hand because simply being born a woman in the Victorian era she was so throughly disadvantaged by such a horribly misogynistic society that girlypop had to scrape together any form of control she could. Annabel wants so badly to protect Lenore but all she knows are her own methods of protecting herself, which involves plausibility deniability and facades and sometimes sheer cruelty, and that’s where the conflict arises. From the start Annabel assumed Lenore and her had the same understanding of this ‘fake enemies’ ploy going on but surprise surprise babygirl, not everyone is overthinking four parallel universes ahead like you do. This boils over into her lover having doubts on what’s real and what’s not, which then culminates into Lenore asking if Annabel is using her affections as empty currency to get what she wants, and Annabel’s first move to tell Lenore to fucken kill her????

“To you alone, I have left myself completely defenseless.”

The drama of it all!! The shattered facade leading to exploding vulnerability of it all!! The dim sun sparking out into a heat death just to prove her sincerity of it all!!! The exposed innermost organs ripping out my heart with my bare hands and begging you, “Do you see it now? Do you see the way it beats for you and only you? Tell me you see it, tell me you see me…” of it all!!

Oh baby the way Annabel still retains this deep fear of Lenore not truly believing in the “only thing that’s real” to her, the way her lover’s ghost still lingers and haunts her and is then ripped up from her innermost psyche like a desecrated grave and given form by Ada’s power. The way, after all this time- and I mean all this time from Lenore’s constructed resurrection, to their relationship blossoming into a wedding, all the fucking way up to that bell tower scene, the fucken way Annabel still never truly let go of her fear that Lenore doesn’t see her, doesn’t see how she alone bashed through all of Annabel’s walls and made a home where her heart laid. I’m sure during their living relationship all the way until the wedding Annabel’s fears were greatly settled, but it’s the fucken way these panels implied that this wretched heartache never completely left Annabel’s guilt-wracked soul.

I just know, okay I just KNOW, that even up until she was putting her wedding dress on Annabel still questioned if she even deserved this happy ending because she still feel phantoms of guilt fer this betrayal. This comic only furthers this implication of unabsolved guilt when it’s made clear as day that Annabel’s biggest fear is Lenore not believing in her love. And before anyone argues how Annabel can currently feel guilt fer betraying Lenore when she hasn’t recovered the memory yet, I’ll argue back that from the very beginning of the comic these two were inexplicably drawn to each other even when they had NO memories. Therefore, even if she doesn’t have the explicit memory, I highly doubt Annabel’s subconscious would ever let go of something as huge as deeply hurting the one person she truly cared about in such a wretched way.

Fuck, dude, I mean Annabel’s greatest fear wasn’t even Lenore dying- which was already a huge thing if y’all remember her tearstreaked, panicked, “What is left? If she’s not here, what’s the point?”- no her greatest is Lenore!!! Not!!! Believing!! Her!!! Like yeah losing Lenore physically definitely would’ve cut so deep even her bones would bear the scars, but losing Lenore in the form of the other woman walking the same ground as her but choosing to stay away?? Call her fucking selfish because some people would rather have their other half still be alive even if they’re not by their side, but Annabel ain’t one of them that’s fer sure. Babygirl has spent a lifetime perfecting the craft of deceiving others fer her own gain, but the ONE TIME she’s genuine her heart is to be called nothing more but empty??? Oh babbyyy that’s gotta fucken hurt.

The thing is, I don’t think Annabel really loves herself all that much. I really don’t. A huge focus on self-preservation doesn’t necessarily mean one really loves themselves, and when we add the aforementioned guilt she carries? Plus, the fact that Annabel being forced to swallow down her anxiety attacks from a young age could easily lead to her having a rather sour view of her 'not normal' self? Yeah no yeah, I truly don’t think Annabel loves herself that much, if at all. So really, this line is adding immense insult to already grievous injury. Not only does Annabel deeply fear Lenore not believing her affections to be true, she also fears the New Yorker misconstruing her as nothing more but a shallow as hell, prissy, little pampered damsel, a role pretty much everyone else regulates her into whether she wants it or not (right from the beginning, before she even set her schemes in full effect, Annabel was already explaining, “Ada wanted a queen, so I gave her one”). Lenore, the only one Annabel had believed to ever really see her fer her, is now discrediting Annabel’s vulnerable affections AND seeing her as that unloving ice queen like everyone else?? Horrible terrible horrible!!! She may have a ribbon threatening to strangle her right now, but it’s clear that ghost!Lenore’s words are what truly cut her down to size. Y’all seeing that fucken pain in Annabel’s eyes? Her worst fear is just so… personal.

Which actually leads me to my next point, which is how just before Annabel’s worst fear is revealed in stark, horrifying detail, we see Prospero’s. Lemme just preface this by saying what Prospero went through is n o t any less terrible and is a super fucken mega valid fear/trauma, but let me cook y’all just hear me out. Prospero’s fear seems to be about medical malpractice and/or being conscious during a painful operation that likely went south (aka ‘oh shiiitttt he fucken DEAD-‘), and that’s fucking tragic as all hell. Yet, okay let me cook here, it’s more… I don’t want to say general, because that does NOT mean his fear is any less significant but it’s like. Way back when, death via medical bullshit was more or less fairly common, especially during wartimes (which is the era I headcanon Prospero to be from); meanwhile, Annabel’s fear is so uniquely hers, it’s borne of a culmination of specific experiences tied together by her relationship with Lenore.

By contrast of a more common fear vs something so deeply personal and specific to this one person- because it’s not just unrequited love, it’s being so vehemently denied and misunderstood by the ONE (1!) person who you wholeheartedly trusted in your entire life who also oops mega died on you- this distinction gives way to an almost more raw, more visceral feeling to Annabel’s fear sequence. Again!!! I am not undermining Prospero’s own trauma, I promise!!! But you have to admit that there’s something, from a narrative standpoint, that hits so much harder with how deeply personal Annabel’s fear is. The contrast is even more great when you look at how Prospero’s involved a buncha bloodied hands not really tied to any faces or even any indication of personhood like accessories, scars, etc etc. It could’ve been a group of anyone holding him down hurting him; on the flipside, Annabel is being restrained by one very specific person we see in full view. The faceless crowd who could’ve been anyone at anytime vs the lone perpetrator whose history you know like a second name. It’s just!!! So personal!!!

In conclusion, on the surface level, one would think a character so deeply ingrained in using deceptions and manipulation would have her greatest fear tie into having her true nature revealed to everyone she’d fooled, but then it turns out it’s the complete fucking opposite. What homegirl fears the most is her truest, innermost self not being believed and accepted by just one (1!) person. The way it’s framed is just so heartstabbingly personal, especially when you parallel it to a previous fear sequence just a few panels preceding it. This is it, your honor, this is Annabel’s deepest driving force broken down to its bare essentials. To hell with whatever reputation she’s carefully crafted! Who cares what anyone else thinks of her if she doesn’t believe her, if she doesn’t SEE her. Really, truly see her. Lenore is the defining point that Annabel has revolves around so wholeheartedly, and there’s no point to anything anymore if Annabel loses her. This crux of her character, OHHH BBAAABBYY it’s just so well done because we, as the audience, have been given clear evidence to build up this narrative of Annabel’s characterization fer so long now and to finally see it come together in a fiery explosion of lesbian angst with this latest chapter??? Gods, the writing of Nevermore will never not drive me absolutely insane in the membrane.

[jikimo-world]

"One day I’ll read to you"

[apoptoses]

“What was Christmas like when you were alive?” Daniel asks.

Across the table Armand drags a piping bag down the length of a cookie. He’s been at it for hours now. Or at least that’s how it feels after going to the store, baking the gingerbread. Laying out all the shit Armand had brought to decorate the house- sprinkles and icing and piping bags and piping tips. The table looks like a holiday war zone.

Daniel rests his chin on his hand and lets his eyes wander.

The fingers squeezing the bag are almost as white as the icing within it, and Daniel wonders if that’s what Armand’s hands look like when they’re squeezing his bicep, his throat. If his skin is as malleable as the frosting, yielding into dimples for Armand’s marble-strong fingers. Amazing that he doesn’t burst the bag with his power.

Armand raises his gaze from the table to Daniel’s face. Daniel clears his throat and fumbles for his cigarettes.

“Are you certain that’s what you want to know?” Armand asks.

Daniel rolls his eyes. His ears burn pink. “Why else would I have asked?”

The thoughtful hum Armand makes is more for his reassurance than anything. A little sound of acknowledgement that normally would be inaudible to the mortal ear made loud so that Daniel is aware he’s thinking; a habit he’d developed not long after Pompeii.

That was three years ago now. Sometimes Daniel thinks he knows just as little about Armand now as he did then. He’s never met someone who lives so thoroughly in the now. Who seems so disinterested in his own past.

Who’s such a miser about letting Daniel help with his craft projects. No touching the cookies, no decorating anything of his own. Just sit back and assist when told. Hungry and bored, Daniel reaches for a gum drop. A foot slams into his shin and he yelps.

“What? You won’t let me help,” Daniel says.

“Because I wish for the result to be a surprise.”

“Then don’t be surprised if I help myself to the supplies,” Daniel insists. “Maybe if you’d answered my question I wouldn’t be eating your stuff.”

Armand gives him a dry look. Daniel pops the gum drop in his mouth.

“I fail to see how the two are related. Anyhow, it was different,” Armand says, and Daniel has to swallow down the ‘obviously’ rising in his throat to keep from starting an argument. “A period centered more around merriment. Christmas of the past had more in common with Roman Saturnalia than it does with the holiday of the modern age.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gifts are the focus now, are they not? Worshipping at the altar of the child and not at that of god. It’s a season of performance and consumption.”

“Mm. Consumption wrapped in the guise of family. Go home for the holidays, if you don’t there must be something pathologically wrong with you.”

Daniel ashes his cigarette. One of Armand’s curls slips out of place, falls across his forehead and into his eyes.

He thinks of his mother. The way she’d sweat and curse over the hot stove. Pearls around her neck, hair in curlers as she rushed to get everything ready before Daniel’s grandparents and uncles and cousins stormed the house. She’d be half drunk before they even got there, off nips of whiskey Daniel now realizes was to take the edge off the pressure she felt to impress everyone.

The windows on the gingerbread house at the Molloy’s had always been built from crooked lines, giving the whole thing the appearance it was liable to fall in on itself. Margaret Molloy would have never tolerated the stack of dirty dishes like they’ve got in the sink. The evidence of her having created anything would have been swept away long before any relatives arrived.

Daniel drags his finger through the powdered sugar that litters the table. He thinks his mom would have a heart attack if she saw the state of their place. The mess Armand has made in his search to try modern traditions.

Armand has never asked if he misses his family. Whether he’d rather be back in Pennsylvania with them than here in New York. If he left now he’d catch the last train. Be there by eleven or twelve. Aunt Linda would probably cry seeing him at the door.

The tip of the piping bag oozes white frosting onto the table when Armand sets it down. He squints at the cookie.

Daniel lifts off his chair, tries to lean across the table and get a look at the front of the gingerbread house. Armand shoos him away.

“Wait. It requires something else.” He picks through the mess of supplies on the table. Icing in all colors, sprinkles, chocolate chips. They’d bought it all and then some. Armand never does anything by halves and Daniel can’t imagine where they’ll keep it all when he’s done. The cabinets are about overflowing as it is. “I’d allow to go, you know. To visit your family.”

Armand says it quiet enough he almost misses it. Daniel’s eyebrows shoot up. He stifles his surprised laugh, choked off noise coming out more like a snort.

“You’d ‘allow me’? Generous of you.”

“Don’t be sarcastic. Family is an ephemeral thing. You have it and then one day, you don’t,” Armand murmurs. “And one evening is- how do you say it? A drop in the bucket for one such as myself.”

“And where would you go if I went?”

Outside the house, probably. Daniel can picture him lingering in the street, watching through the window like in Venice. Even if he can’t see him Daniel’s always been able to feel his presence the way some people say they can feel ghosts. 

Armand shrugs. “I would find something to do, just as I’ve done for centuries now. I’m capable of entertaining myself.”

“Mm.”

Armand’s nails are like glass. Smooth, slick. Just long enough to be sharp at the edges on the nights he doesn’t file them down, and he hasn’t filed them tonight. Daniel can tell by the way he uses them like tweezers to pluck a single sprinkle from the jar.

He could go back and let his mom fuss over his plate, listen to his dad try to make excuses for why his prodigal son spends all of his time far from home, why he doesn’t have a respectable job like his cousin Sean. He could sleep in his childhood bed and feel his mortality in a whole other way. Sit beside the tree his mother never, ever let him help decorate as a child because it had to be just right.

Armand places the sprinkle on the cookie. His fingertip comes away smeared with icing and he stares at it, then reaches across the table and holds it out in front of Daniel’s face.

He doesn’t taste like anything. Vampires don’t secrete bodily oils, and so when Daniel licks his finger clean it reminds him more of licking the plastic spoon his mom used to stir batter with. Smooth and cool and tasteless, except for the sugar that bursts on his tongue.

He wonders if she still has that spoon. If Armand will let him lick frosting from somewhere else when he’s done building- whatever the hell it is.

Armand doesn’t wipe his saliva off when he retracts his hand. Doesn’t comment on Daniel’s wandering thoughts either, or the way his pupils have dilated with them, just stares at his gingerbread house with all the seriousness of an architect. He adjusts a peppermint on the roof then nods.

“There. You may come see it now.”

The legs of Daniel’s chair squeal against the floor. He grinds out his cigarette before he circles the table, comes around to Armand’s side.

The linework on the gingerbread house is unnaturally straight, a carbon copy of the design pictured in the recipe book. Icing drips from the eaves, swirls in graceful arches over the windows and around the door. There’s even a wreath drawn just above the door. And in the powdered sugar snow on the ground stands a figure. A gingerbread man with a sprinkle cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“It’s you.”

Armand’s fangs peek out just above his lower lip when he grins up at him. He’s got powdered sugar on his sweater, in his curls. Daniel rolls his eyes. He rests his hand on the back of Armand’s chair and leans down to kiss the mischief from his mouth.

There’s people who miss him just a hundred miles away. A house so tidy you could eat off the floor, probably even a present under the tree for him on the off chance he comes back. Hell, they could go together. He could introduce Armand as a friend from the city with no family to go home to of his own. It wouldn’t even be a lie.

But Daniel’s got a crooked tree here that they’d decorated together with the mess of ornaments Armand bought at Saks. A sink filled with dishes and enough cookies to last him until Easter at least. And Armand-

Armand’s fingers curl around the back of his neck, pressing little valleys into his flesh with their strength, holding him there as his tongue slips into Daniel’s mouth. Licks some of the sweetness from it and leaves the hair on Daniel’s arms standing on end. Daniel angles his head to the side, opens his mouth a bit more. Kisses a little harder and feels the scrape of fangs on his lip like a threat. Or maybe a promise. Daniel’s too dizzy to know. His hand is busy working its way into Armand’s hair, as though he could actually tug him out of his chair and into the living room. He’ll crawl into his lap right here in the kitchen if he has to.

Then quick as it began it ends. Armand breaks away and pushes Daniel back toward his chair.

“There are more gingerbread people on the tray. You may make one of me to add to our house,” Armand says.

Daniel snorts but it comes out all wrong, like the huff of air someone lets out when they’ve been stabbed. His hands tremble as he picks up the piping bag. One kiss and Armand’s got him this fucked up. “I ‘may’ make one, like it’s a choice and not an order.”

“Yes. And then should it pass my inspection you may help me find something to do with the icing that’s unused.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Armand dusts the powdered sugar from his sweater. He shakes his hair back into place. The lights of the Christmas tree reflect off his auburn curls, make them glow all colors on the one side of his head, and when he looks at Daniel through his lashes Daniel’s heart races. His lips are parted just enough his fangs peek out from behind them, sharp and white.

“Then I suppose I should have to find some other form of consumption to indulge in. After all, that’s what the holiday is about now, isn’t it?”

It’s a shitty pun. But it makes Daniel’s blood pump hot beneath his skin anyways.

There’s a brick house with a wreath on the door that says ‘Molloy Family’ two states over. The train would only take a couple hours to get there. Here in New York Daniel’s got a piping bag in his hand and Armand sitting across the table swinging his feet like a child. His lips are still stinging-aching-tingling from the kiss. His blood races with the promise of more to come.

“Yeah. I guess it is.”

Armand nods. He rests his chin on his hand and it makes him look so innocent. Thoughtful in a way that's disarming. “Now tell me about Christmas when you were a child, Daniel.”

Daniel takes a deep breath. He drags a crooked line of ricing down the cookie and tries to think back. “Well, what do you want to know?”

[find all my other fics here]

[uldahstreetrat]

Im trying to take note of real world influences in XIV for some projects going forward, like languages used in areas (French names in Ishgard, Roman terms in Garlemald) or like in aesthetics I suppose (like Radz-at-han in particular reminds me of Istanbul), and I'd like to hear others' thoughts about those kinds of influences that they've noticed

(little more context on things im working on under the cut)

right now this has a lot to do with things like stamps lmao I have in fact gotten kinda into stamp collecting now and I'd like to design some for XIV areas based on similar irl counterpart countries? like regular stamps and stuff like a sort of Garlean version of US postal war savings stamps? so having irl countries to reference for stamp styles would be helpful to like figure that stuff out

and honestly all of this is just part of making a physical copy of Q'ihnn's journal more complicated than it needs to be but never let it be said that I dont have a love of unnecessarily dense world building

plus by having a list of reference countries I can also build out other kinds of like, souvenirs? in the journal from the places visited across msq - a lot of things I see people keep in journals, especially travel ones, are stuff like wrappers or other packaging, pieces of maps, receipts (that's its own rabbit hole ive gone down), ticket stubs, and other various little paper things along with photos and drawings (which are much easier to manage in comparison)

cause a lot of this shit doesnt extensively exist within the game often beyond a mention in a stray line of dialogue or two so there's advantages to having irl cultural and historical reference to make something that feels real - plus im often off in lala fantasy land in my head because im stuck at home a lot, im not exactly well traveled, so im sure its easy for me to miss especially like language use in certain areas (I didnt even notice how French Ishgardian names were until someone else made a joke about it, it just doesnt occur to me)

like some of these influences are fairly obvious, right, like Doma and Kugane being Japanese inspired and Greek influence around Sharlayan (which the Greek/Roman dichotomy that Sharlayan and Garlemald have going on is its own whole thing I could go into btw they're so similar yet different in such interesting ways) - but places like Ul'dah?? not a clue. Ala Mhigo? no idea. The Crystarium and Eulmore in the first??? oh I'd put my head through a wall trying to thing of a real world counterpart for reference

granted now having said that someone is going to point out something obvious that I just entirely missed some way or another lmao but like that's why im asking, right? anyway if you have nerd ass thoughts too just hit me up

[dogcodedcatboy]

aaron and roman's first christmas together (kinda)

word count: ~2.1k

[some early relationship stuff. roman isn't used to affection, aaron lays it on thick. mostly roman's POV. no proofreading other than myself so sowwy for typos and pretend i didnt post this at 5:30 am]

❄️ dividers by issysh3ll ❄️

"Well, if it isn't my favorite caterer..." Roman chuckles to himself as he opens the door to his penthouse. He eyes the numerous bags in his boyfriend's hands. It's much more than he usually shows up with, Aaron’s duffle bag accompanied by a gift bag, all sparkly and festive and a little nauseating. "...and still catering, I see. Do you ever, like, turn it off? Or is this just an all-the-time thing?" He waves his hand around, gesturing to everything his boyfriend is carrying as he steps aside to let Aaron in.

They've been 'official' for three months now. Well, as 'official' as they can be when Roman is a total

closet case. Making his doorman sign an NDA seemed like an overreaction, but it lessened the stress of Aaron coming over like this.

"What can I say? I aim to please, even off the clock." Aaron leans in to give Roman a quick peck on the cheek as he makes his way inside. He'd never show up to his /boyfriend's/ apartment empty-handed, certainly not around the holidays.

You're such a suck-up." Roman rolls his eyes and pretends to act annoyed, but the small smile on his face betrays him and he readily leans into the cheek kiss. His eyes drift over Aaron's ugly Krampus sweater. "Ugh, and you look like an elf that got fired for jerking it to freaky BDSM elf porn in his cubicle. And I told you not to get me presents..."

"A porn-addict elf? Really? I think you're projecting." Aaron smirks as he sets his bags down on the kitchen island. "You invited me over 5 days before Christmas, that means we're doing Christmas. Full-frontal, whole-hog, balls-to-the-walls Christmas. I brought cookies and-"

"Jesus Christ, no you didn't. The world's first Marxist faggot tradwife. You're insane." Roman follows Aaron to the kitchen.

Naturally, he has to act annoyed about this. It's admittedly quite nice, having a (relatively) normal person that wants to engage in the mundane coupley bullshit that Roman always wanted but feared he'd never have. However, part of him is perturbed. He really doesn't do this stuff and he's weirdly worried about fucking it up. He knows he hasn't been nailing the whole boyfriend-intimacy-romance thing, even though he was the one who wanted to make it official in the first place.

But he tries. He left a nice bottle of wine on the counter, a cabernet sauvignon that he knows Aaron likes. A romantic gesture. See? He can do those.

Aaron laughs at his joke, as he always does. He then gestures toward the wine. “Hey, nice cab sav. I brought stuff though." Roman watches as Aaron unpacks one of the bags, some peppermint schnapps, vanilla vodka, and a small baggy of red and white powder.

He leans against the counter, crossing his arms. Outdone once again by his stupid thoughtful boyfriend. "Mmm, yes, who my lovely expensive wine when you can have...what is that..ooh, cheap vodka...peppermint liqueur, and..." Roman looks over the selection, eyes narrowing at the plastic bag. "Ooh, and some festive peppermint coke? Nose candy?"

"It's stuff for peppermint martinis, dumbass...and that's crushed-up candy cane for the rims-"

"Oh, c'mon, that's...that's gay. Capital 'G' gay."

"Roman. We are, in fact, gay." Aaron snickers, although he's trying to sound stern.

"Yeah, sure, but not like that though. That's some serious shit."

"So you want yours /without/ the rim? Because it's too gay...?" Aaron raises an eyebrow.

"...No. Okay, fuck you, if you're getting the stupid candy rim, I want it too." Roman concedes playfully, rolling his eyes as he grabs the cocktail shaker and glasses off of his bar cart.

"Okay, duly noted." Aaron's voice is dripping with that sarcasm and faux-irritation that Roman has come to adore. "Oh, and for the record, are the cookies too gay as well? If so, I can throw them right out? Or, like, we could punch them into tiny pieces or something. You know, manly straight guy stuff."

Roman scoffs but his gaze keeps flicking down to the tin of cookies. "Well, they could be gay...guess it depends..."

He reaches out to open it, his fingers anxiously prying at the lid. Inside is an arrangement of glazed gingerbread cookies, each with a unique snowflake design pressed into the top. They're stupidly beautiful, it makes no sense to Roman why anyone would do this bullshit for him.

He tries to keep up the bit. "...Yup, these ones are definitely gay…” He looks down at the tin for a moment, trying and failing not to get all sappy. “You...made these?" Roman asks awkwardly, his voice quiet and more gentle than usual. He doesn't want to seem like he cares about the damn cookies so much, but... well, how could he not? He glances over at Aaron, trying to get a read from him.

"Of course I did, dummy," Aaron replies with a playful smirk, his eyes flickering with amusement as he mixes their drinks. He says it so casually as if Roman's the crazy one for being surprised that someone would do such a thing.

Roman's still staring at the cookies, his expression blank. "You... you didn't have to do that, you know?" His voice is low, his eyes finally flicking back up. He can feel the same warm, fluttery feeling he's come to associate with being around Aaron.

"I know I don't have to," Aaron retorts, his voice tinged with a mix of defiance and conviction as he lifts his gaze to meet Roman's eyes. He radiates an intense, almost protective warmth, something Roman seems to envy, fear, and adore in equal parts. "I do what I do because I want to."

Roman is used to obligatory love, whatever rotten love spreads between his family. Love that hurts more than it could ever begin to heal. Being with Aaron like this, like as his partner, was so overwhelming and so beautiful, like staring right into a fucking solar eclipse. Roman blinks. His jaw clenches and relaxes as he tries to process the answer.

He's quiet for a moment, until eventually he speaks again, his voice rough. "Right. Well, maybe you're just weirdly sentimental. And gay. Gay and overly sentimental." He picks out a cookie, gingerly turning it between his fingertips to examine the details on the top. He tries to come up with something else to say, he tries to mask the vulnerable feeling in his chest. "Did you like, spend hours shaping every damn snowflake?"

"No, Christ, No. They're stamped on. I wouldn't waste that much of my time on you." He teases back. Aaron doesn't look put off by Roman's less-than-enthusiastic reaction. He's still as smug as ever as if he knows Roman is going all soft inside. Of course he knows, no matter how hard Roman tried to avoid it at first, Aaron knows his stupid neuroses and intricacies and how weird he is about all of this stuff.

It's both maddening and endearing how perceptive he is. Roman wants to hate it, deny the mushy feelings, and act like the arrogant prick he is... but the way Aaron looks at him is intoxicating. “You're so... infuriating sometimes," Roman mutters under his breath.

"Mmm...you love it." Aaron has finished mixing the drinks, he leaves them on the counter for a moment as he moves to step behind Roman, his arms wrapping around his shorter boyfriend's waist. "Why don't you just try one already?"

Roman leans back into Aaron's chest, letting out a soft hum. He glances down at the cookies as Aaron wraps his arms around him, his body relaxing. He's gotten more comfortable being casually touched and hugged, a vast improvement from the earlier part of their relationship. He reaches out, selecting one of the iced gingerbread cookies. He lets out another deep sigh as if indulging in sweets were some kind of inconvenience. He takes a tentative nibble.

His face softens as he tastes it. The cookies are perfect, just like everything his stupid talented boyfriend makes. The icing is smooth, and not too sweet. The gingerbread is soft and pleasantly spicy. He takes a much larger bite before he speaks, his voice low and soft. "They're... They're really good. Don't let it go to your head."

Aaron's smirk grows wider, he's clearly letting it go to his head already, the fact that he's making Roman a melt into puddle. He leans down to nuzzle the side of Roman's neck, planting a kiss just below his ear. "You could say 'thank you', you know. Manners cost nothing, you spoiled prick." He purrs.

"Pft, since when do I have manners?" He mutters, his usual arrogance lacking its natural bite. He crams another piece of the cookie into his mouth, humming in satisfaction.

Aaron chuckles against Roman's neck before planting another kiss there. His breath is hot against his skin. “So rude. Maybe my talents would be better appreciated elsewhere…?”

Roman's brain runs through a million biting quips, insults, and sarcastic digs, but it's a losing battle, like a gazelle trying to fight off a lion. "...Fine." He says awkwardly, his cheeks going slightly rosy, "...thanks for the cookies, happy?"

"See? You /are/ capable of being polite after all."

"Ugh, shut up." Roman huffs. He rolls his eyes and reaches out to take a second cookie from the tin. He leans back against Aaron, their bodies pressing together. He can almost feel the smugness exuding from Aaron behind him and it's kind of pissing him off, but simultaneously he's never felt more loved. He takes another bite, mumbling against the cookie. "You're lucky you're hot."

"Awww. There's a compliment in there somewhere." Aaron purrs, watching contentedly as Roman digs into the cookies properly. “Don't forget your festive booze." Aaron gestures towards the half-forgotten martinis on the counter.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting to it." Roman mumbles through a mouthful. He grabs the glass from the counter, taking a few moments to admire Aaron's handiwork. Even the alcohol looks obnoxiously perfect, like something out of a Christmas catalog. He sips it. "God, this is disgustingly girly." He tries to conceal the fact that he's covertly trying to lick the candy off of the edge of the glass

"You're licking the rim. I saw that." He breaks off the embrace to grab his own drink. "Roman Roy, caught in 4k, enjoying frivolous holiday baked goods and cocktails."

"Oh, shaddup. I like the stupid candy cane stuff. Sue me." Roman continues to sip at his drink and nibble on the cookies. It does feel nice to indulge a bit. "So...what's next in our Christmas Ass-blast Spectacular?" He regrettably missed feeling Aaron pressed up against him, he'd never flat out ask his

boyfriend to go cuddle on the couch, but he's secretly hoping that's what's on the docket. He hopes Aaron can't see the neediness in his eyes, but it's hard to miss.

"Well, we have drinks and snacks so....might I suggest a heartwarming, classic, Christmas movie?" Aaron starts wandering towards the living room, expecting Roman to follow.

""Oof. Don't expect me to watch some sappy garbage about an orphan saving Christmas or some shit. If you're gonna make me watch a Christmas movie, It better be Die Hard..." He trails after Aaron, bringing along his drink and several more of those gingerbread cookies. The heartburn will be worth it.

"Of course it's Die Hard, don't be stupid." Aaron smirks as he flops down on Roman's big fancy sectional. He sprawls out with plenty of room for Roman to curl up against him.

"Thank god." Roman mutters as he sits down, taking up residence on the couch and taking the opportunity to curl up with his head against Aaron's chest. He sips his drink as he looks up at his boyfriend, taking him all in. "You know, the only good thing about this time of year is you." He deadpans, as if the admission wasn't absolutely adorable and incredibly out of character for him.

Aaron grins, bringing his hand up to run through Roman's hair. "Aww, how romantic. All the peppermint and gingerbread must be giving you some kind of Christmas poisoning, making you all sappy." The teasing tone is affectionate, just earnest enough that it doesn't make Roman go all weird from the emotional intimacy. "But...thanks, I guess? I just...love you, or whatever. I want you to be happy, I like spending time with you...etcetera etcetera."

Roman grumbles stubbornly, his cheeks turning slightly red at the sweet nothings. He nuzzles his head against Aaron's hand, soliciting more head pets. This still feels so strange, being loved, being safe, not having to worry about the other shoe waiting to drop. He murmurs against his chest, his voice quiet and uncharacteristically open. "I love you too, dickhead... I'll be happy as long as I get to spend Christmas with you, so shut up and put on the damn movie."

For all the happy memories he's never had with the holidays he's finally gaining some.

[silver-tooth-the-panther]

Okay Y’all… (SPOILERS AHEAD.)

I just finished Pastra’s Jeff The Killer rewrite and HOLY SHIT!

I remember growing up on creepypastas. I watched video after video, audio after audio, and enjoyed every minute of it. I watched Creepy Gaming and HoodHoodlumsRevenge mainly and I came to know many different creepypastas. Fan-art and fan comics fascinated me and I even drew Tails Doll in my school to activate the Tails Doll curse. My obsession even went so far as to attempt to make a Tails Doll plush and even me and my friend made a shitty Sonic.exe plush.

As I got older though, I realized that most of the really popular creepypastas were complete shit. Granted, there were some good ones like Ben Drowned and No End House, but most of them were just lazy and romanized murder and other vile topics. Jeff The Killer was no exception. I’ve seen many people complain and be frustrated by how popular it was while masterpieces like Psychosis and The Showers were more underground. I remember every major criticism that the story had that completely tore any believability away from it.

But then Pastra rewrote and reworked the story. What once started as a story written for the sake of being edgy is not something genuinely terrifying that kept both me and my brother at the edge of our seat. Every criticism of the original was taken accounted for in the rewrite. From making Jeff’s appearance more realistic, but still iconic, to making it make sense why Jeff would “snap” and all the way to making it make more sense why Jeff was able to overpower people. Everything was considered.

And you want to know what the cherry on top was? It was the plot twist. The fact that Jeff didn’t snap at all. He was truly psychotic and not like a campy movie, “kills anyone they see”, psychotic, but a realistic and has a goal in mind psychotic. The ending was absolute perfection as we finally get to see Jeff’s point of view and his planning. The best part? That’s easily the fact that we don’t know who made it out alive.

Pastra, if you end up finding this, I want you to know that you are an excellent horror writer and have clearly done your research on this topic. I really hope it gets as popular, if not more, than the original and it gives me a lot of hope for your future projects. Take care of yourself and remember that you’re extremely talented.

[themultifandomgal]

Sweet Pea- We Won't Work

I sit down next to Fangs, Opposite Toni and Sweet Pea with my food tray in my hands. Since the Serpents moved to Riverdale High they have quickly become my best friends. During this time Sweet Pea has been trying to get me on a date. Not gonna happen. He’s a player and every girl with some sense will stay away from him. I’ve told him many times that we will never happen, but he’s just so determined to make me one of his quests

“Hey good looking” Sweet Pea smirks as I roll my eyes “so YN did you think about what I asked you?”

“Yes. And just like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. No” Toni giggles at my response

“Come on man you’ve been at this for months. She’s not gonna go on a date with you” Fangs pats Pea on the shoulder

“Fangs is right. You better give up. There’s plenty of other girls who would love to go on a date with you. Josie is one”

“Josie is Peas secret hook up” I comment

“Not so secret since they were all over each other a few weeks ago and Cheryl’s party” Toni takes some fries off Fangs’ tray

“Me and Josie are over. We wanted different things. And anyway you never gave me a reason why you won’t go on a date with me” Sweet Pea folds his arms and I give him a shrug and eat my lunch

“I’ve dated your kind before and it wasn’t pretty”

“What do you mean by my kind?” He asks crossing his arms. I ignore him as Jug and Betty join us

“Hey guys” Betty smiles. I smile back at her as she sits

“What you guys talking about?” Jug asks sitting opposite Betty

“Just the usual. Sweet Pea trying to get a date with YN”

“Still?” Jughead chuckles shaking his head “dude when are you going to give that one up?” I can see Sweet Pea is starting to get annoyed with all the teasing. He gets up from his seat and walking out of the cafeteria.

After lunch Pea and I have history together, unfortunately for me we sit next to one another. Even worse Mr Roman decide to pared us up together for our history project on President George Washington which is why we are now sat on my bed looking in books and typing on my laptop

“You know we would be a good team. We work well together” Pea says. I sigh knowing he’s not going to give up. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that “so why won’t you go on a date with me?”

“Because we wouldn't work” I say not looking away from the laptop

“Why?”

“Because I'll break your heart?”

“Maybe I'll break yours” I then look at Pea smirking and shake my head

“No you won't. Nobody breaks my heart”

“Ah so you one of these girls who have built up a shield”

“Give it up Sweet Pea. I’ll be your friend, but we’re not dating” I groan as Pea pushes down the lid of the laptop “seriously”

“You said earlier you dated guys like me before. Enlighten me, what do you mean?”

“Players. Guys who jump from one girl to the next. Guys that just want one thing”

“They hurt you. That’s why you said it wasn’t pretty”

“I didn’t actually say who it wasn’t pretty for. Now will you stop asking me 20 questions at get on with our work?” I lift up the lid and we both sit in silence for a couple of minutes getting on with our work when Pea suddenly says

“You know, those rumours about me aren’t exactly true” I look up at Pea who looks remorseful “well not exactly. Yeah I’ll be honest I’ve slept with a few girls, not as many as you think, and it’s because I would find a girl I liked. We’d have sex and she’d run off to tell her friends. I was dumb enough to let it happen a few times. Then girls just stared to make shit up”

“I’m sorry Sweet Pea this shouldn’t have happened” I look at pea with a frown

“It’s ok. Well no it’s not, but I’m ok. The reason I’ve been asking you on a date is because you say no. I mean yes of course I want to go on a date with you, but you don’t throw yourself at me. I’m chasing you and it makes a change” something in me changes and I actually feel for Pea now. Maybe I should give him a chance. See what a date would be like with him

“Fine. I have a shift at Pops tomorrow till 7. Pick me up from there”

“What to finish our project” I chuckle at Sweet Pea

“No you idiot to take me on a date”

“Wait really?”

“Yeah. But I can promise you no sex and probably no kiss either”

“Deal” Peas face lights up. I’ve never seen him smile like this before. And that was all down to me agreeing to a date.

[paigegonerogue]

TLOU s2: Behind the Camera

One of the most anticipated shows of 2025, The Last of Us (my favorite show of all time), is likely getting an official teaser trailer this month for the absolutely stacked season 2! If you’ve been keeping up with the news around it, you’ll know the incredible new actors added like Kaitlyn Dever, Isabella Merced, Jeffrey Wright, Katherine O’Hara, and Young Mazino, but they’re not the only rockstars stepping onto the set.

(Super long post)

Directors:

Aside from the amazing returning directors, TLOU has added four prestige legends to the lineup. Thank you for your service, Ali Abassi, if you’re past work directing stories about blonde sex-offenders is any indication, your Trump biopic will be fantastic.

The four directors added to the lineup are Stephen Williams, Kate Herron, Nina Lopez-Corrado, and the legend himself, Mark Mylod.

Stephen Williams, the director who’s known for constantly directing episodes with an 8.7 score on IMDB (that’s not what he’s actually known for). He’s directed episodes of Westworld (one in s1 and one in s2, both with an 8.7 score) and Lost (in which he has two more 8.7s, and I believe over 10 other episodes in the range of .2 points of 8.7), so he’s pretty good with time-skips and flashbacks. He’s also worked on Persons of Interest in which he directed another, you guessed it, 8.7 episode, as well as two more win the .2 range of it. Recently he’s broken out of the “almost nine” range with HBO’s Watchmen, in which he directed episodes 3 and 6. (He’s directed 9s before, but this was the first time where they weren’t surrounded by 8.7s). His work with time shenanigans, and the fact that TLOU is rated 8.7 on IMDB, make this a fantastic match.

Kate Herron is next up, known best for her work on Loki. She directed the entirety of season 1, which includes my favorite episode of the show ‘The Variant’, in which Loki and Mobius go to the location of a disaster in the near future to find a sinister variant. It’s practically a demo real for TLOU, since a lot of it takes place in a supermarket filled with people waiting out a disaster that none of them survive, showing she’s got the skill to pull of apocalyptic. She also delivered us the absolute gold of the salad scene. Other than that, she directed multiple episodes of Sex Education back when it was still beloved and acclaimed.

Third we have Nina Lopez-Corrado. While she hasn’t directed shows quite as high-caliber as some of the other directors, she’s proven she’s good at found family through her work on Agents of Shield, in which she delivered one of the highest rated, and roughest episodes of the show ‘Devil Complex’, in which our favorite characters get put through absolute hell (so she’ll be perfect for TLOU s2!). She’s also shown that she can get Tumblr obsessed with queer ships with her work on Supernatural…

Last and certainly not least is the most well known and acclaimed of the new directors, Mark Mylod. I believe he will be directing the most episodes of this list, but I’m not entirely certain. Mylod is probably best known for his amazing work on Succession, which he won an Emmy for. He’s directed all of my favorite episodes except Panic Room and America Decides. While he’s worked on other projects like Game of Thrones, Entourage, and The Menu, it’s his directing for Succession that gets me most excited for his work on TLOU. He’s proven he can elevate emotional scenes, and his directing is consistently incredible across all spectrums of human feeling. His thematic work with grief, trauma, and the cycle of violence will very much carry over into TLOU, and I can’t wait to see the absolute emotional brutality and heartbreak of his direction paired with Bella’s acting. Actually I can wait because holy shit I’m not going to make it… He directed Kendall’s traumatizing car crash in the s1 finale, Shiv’s self-destructive decisions in Ternhaven, Kendall’s breakdown in s3 when he admits to Roman and Shiv what he did, Roman’s grief and self-harming behaviors at the funeral, the bittersweet bonding in the finale of the show, and obviously Connor’s Wedding. If you’ve seen Succession or know the plot of TLOU part 2 you’ll know exactly how that might carry over…

You thought this was the end? Hell no! Directors aren’t the only ones behind the camera!

Writers:

Craig Mazin and Neil Druckmann wrote season one. Their brilliant writing elevated the show and led to some truly unforgettable moments, and this season they’ve brought in some more incredible writers to help!

Halley Gross co-wrote The Last of Us part 2 alongside Neil Druckmann. No one was particularly surprised by this news, but it’s still great nonetheless. It’s clear how much Mazin respects the source material, and I love how TLOU brings in the people who wrote the games to help adapt it for television. She also wrote episodes for Westworld s1.

The other writer is more unexpected. Bo Shim joined the writers room of TLOU s2, but we don’t know much about him. He currently has no official writing credits, which either means it’s a pseudonym (which I doubt), or, more likely, they found a young, talented writer who hasn’t made it big yet and decided to give him his big break and use his skills for TLOU. If you’re looking, Craig, I know a film student who’d love to join the writing room for TLOU���. She’ll do it for free… she’ll pay you… please??

Cinematographers:

Cinematographers work with directors to create the look of the show, the shots, the lighting, etc.

Ksenia Sereda, who did the cinematography for TLOU episodes 1, 2, and 7 will be returning along newcomer Catherine Goldschmidt who worked on the always-gorgeous House of the Dragon.

Some of her amazing HotD shots:

Finally, Emily Mendez and Timothy A. Good are returning as editors. Set designers Austin Chuqiao Wang, Kyle White, and Shannon McArthur are returning as well.

There are wild amounts of other crew members who work on everything from lighting to costumes to vfx to storyboards. If I mentioned all of them this post would be as long as the credits, but every single one of them is important to the show and helps make it as incredible as it is!

I can’t wait for season 2!

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Turmoil; Chapter 4

Roman Roy x Reader

a/n: I’m back on that grind guys. enjoy x

Word Count: 2.744k

“You’re fucking lucky Y/N was there,” Kendall says, struggling not to raise his voice. “You’re so fucking lucky your vote didn’t tip the scale.”

You’re back in Kendall’s office, you and him perched on his sofa while Roman is stood, leaning against the wall.

“I… I just couldn’t,” he says meekly.

“Then why’d we agree to a vote of no confidence?” you ask. “Roman, I get if your feelings are complicated about this, but you almost fucked us over.“

“Why am I doing this again?” he asks, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Kendall scoffs. “You need to think about what you want. Dad’s a horrible person doing horrible things. You can go run to him, but I’m staying here.”

“We go to Norway tomorrow. How about we just have a good time?” Roman suggests. “There’s nothing we- or he, for the matter, can do while we’re abroad. I need… I just need a break.” You roll your eyes and get to your feet.

“Whatever, Roman. I’ll see you at home.” You give Kendall an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder before going out and finding Greg in the bullpen.

“Oh, hello, Y/N.” He finishes whatever it is he was doing and turns in his chair to face you. “I could hear the… commotion from all the way over here. And I saw the police, and, uh, Kendall’s still alive, so…?”

“Yeah. It worked, surprisingly. They had to escort Logan out the conference room.” You drag a hand over your eyes. “Instead of dinner, want to go out for lunch? I like you, Greg, but my brain’s going to be fried by the time the work day’s over, and I don’t want to subject you to that.”

He smooths his dress pants at the knee before getting up. “Yeah, no, yeah, that’d be great.” He glances over your shoulder. “Uh, is he okay?”

You follow his gaze, peering into Kendall’s office to find Roman facing you both, watching intently with his hands folded behind his back. “Don’t mind him. He’s neurotic.” You touch your thumb to the cool gold of the ring sitting on your finger.

“Well, then, after you.” You walk across the street to a quaint brunch spot that’s hailed for it’s food. “I love this place,” Greg tells you. The conversation pivots, however, when you both are seated. “Shiv told me you need some, what should I say… favors?”

“We do, and I’m sorry it’s all been dumped on you.”

“No, it’s okay. It makes me feel important.”

You laugh. “What do you have in mind? Shiv tell you anything?”

“I’ve been thinking- and it’s completely valid if my voice isn’t relevant to you, but I’d like to share my thoughts -that instead of whaling so hard on Logan directly, why not try to get access to him through Marcia? Or any past… connection?”

“Do you think we’ll be able to find anything?”

”I heard, through the grapevine, of course, a few rumors about Marcia and a… new friend.”

“If you find anything,” you say carefully, “I think you know what to do.”

“I also have heard a lot of complaining from people who work directly under him. Or, used to, I guess.”

“I think the general consensus is that he’s a criminal piece of shit. We just can’t find any proof.”

“I think I’ll be able to find something.” He tentatively picks up the menu laid out in front of him.

“Do you think you’ll make it out to Norway?”

“Me? I think Roman would shoot me.”

“You should come, after you deal with things here. Everyone could use a break.”

“I’ll try. I do really need to get out of here for a while.”

“If Roman’s giving you trouble, you can tell me, you know.”

“Oh, it isn’t anything new. I don’t know what it is with him. He has his own issues he doesn’t know how to deal with, so sometimes he projects.”

“That’s profound,” you say. “You’re right to not think anything of it. I know him well enough by now to say I don’t think he thinks before doing anything.”

You both order, and conversation comes easily to the two of you. Greg’s a wholesome guy, you think. He makes you comfortable, and you know you can trust him.

“I wanted to tell you something,” he says after a while. “I haven’t seen Connor in a bit. But last time I did see him, he was on the phone with some lawyer, talking about a lawsuit. And I’m almost 100% sure it wasn’t you, because I know your name isn’t Brad.”

You give your drink a slow stir. “Did you catch what the lawsuit was about?”

“All I heard were the words ‘negligence’ and ‘innkeepers law’.”

You press your lips together. None of this seems right. “Is it possible you can figure out the firm he was speaking with?”

“I’ll do my best. I figured you’d want to know.”

“I do. Thank you, Greg.”

Eventually, after a fight over bill(which you won), you hail a taxi and make your way back home. You kick your heels off by the door, Roman’s dress shoes haphazardly strewn in the same vicinity. You pad into the kitchen and toss your keys onto the counter, clocking Roman sat on the couch.

“Greg, huh?”

“What about him?” You pull a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah, I do. He’s respectful and I can trust him,” you say acridly.

“I respect you. A lot, actually.”

“You don’t show it. It’s not a competition, anyway. Why do you care?”

“We’re engaged.”

You roll your eyes at his childishness. It’s starting to get on your nerves. “We’re just friends, remember? Your words, not mine.” You leave the kitchen and wander into your room. You don’t think Roman’s ever slept in the bed- he’s been living on the couch. He gets up and follows you. “Even if I was into Greg- which I’m not -what’s your deal?”

“I lied to you. That morning.” You’re sitting at your desk now, and stare up at him.

“About?”

“What I remember.” He takes both your hands. “I remember everything I said. I meant it.”

You can feel your face begin to heat up. “Are you drunk?”

“Sober. I swear it.” He uses his finger to draw a cross over his heart, still gripping your hand in his.

“What’s your point here, Roman?”

“I want to try being something. I want us to try being something.”

“Are we just ignoring the fact that you threw us under the fucking bus?”

“Yes, we are. We’ll talk about that later, I promise.” He gets to his knees, resting his cheek on your thigh as he looks at you. “I want to do something right, for once. I want to do this right.”

You’re sat frozen in place. You force yourself to card a hand through his hair, pushing it from his face.

“You were on the news, once. Giving some legal advice before my father went on air for some propagandist bullshit. I thought you were so fucking hot. I mean, I still do-” He cuts himself off. “What I’m trying to say is, I like you, you’re fucking gorgeous, and while the situation we’re in is less than ideal, I want to make something out of it.” You stay silent. “You’re kind, funny, you’re brighter than the fucking sun. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, but I’m just some piece of garbage who keeps making things between us worse. Friends? I was lying, then, too. I’ll never be able to accept you as just a friend. I’ll never stop wanting you.”

“Really?” is all you can manage.

“Yes, really. And I know I’m an asshole. I’m proud of it, 90% of the time. That last 10% is when I’m with you and I feel so fucking guilty I made that precious smile of yours disappear. It eats me alive that I piss you off. That you don’t like me. But that’s all I’ve ever been capable of doing.”

“So change it. Make me like you,” you say quietly. Reluctantly, he pulls himself to his feet and instead hooks his arms under you, hoisting you up. He takes your place in your desk chair, settling you on his lap.

“You deserve lots better than me, Y/N.” Roman keeps his arms wound around you, one tight around your waist, the other across your back, anchoring you to him. “I don’t know what I was doing this morning. I get so scared of him, Y/N. It’s like he was looking into my soul.���

“If you think I deserve better,” you begin, “become better.” You let yourself lean into his chest. “As for the vote, I still think you’re an asshole.”

He sighs. “And that’s fair. Kendall ripped me a new one after you left.”

“Good.” His hand wanders idly up and down your back, gently massaging knots of tension that he can find. “Roman Roy, realizing the consequences of his actions.” You drag a finger across his jaw. “Am I dreaming?”

”If we are, I don’t want to wake up.”

“So, what now?”

“We be all lovey-dovey. I mean, we’re already engaged.”

You snort. “You can’t stop saying that.”

“Who wouldn’t, when engaged to someone who looks like you?” He gives your ass a quick pinch.

“Roman!”

“Sorry. Had to,” he says, grinning stupidly. “Jokes aside though, I want to take it slow.”

“I… Yeah. Let’s take it slow.”

“You do want this, right?” he asks quietly.

“I’ve wanted you since the minute we made eye contact.” You stifle a smile. “You’re sexy when you have a stubble. What happened to it?”

“What, I’m not sexy now?” He absentmindedly draws a hand over his smooth jaw. “I’ll grow it back for you.”

“Hey, I’m just kidding. You’re sexy now, don’t worry.” Roman grunts and moves the two of you to bed.

“What? My back hurts.” He sinks into his side of the bed. “Please don’t make me sleep on the couch again.”

“You’re always welcome here.” You sigh happily and roll out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To brush my teeth and get ready for bed, unlike some slob I know. No outside clothes on my bed, Roman.”

You duck the pillow he chucks at you.

As you progress through your nightly routine, eventually, he comes to stand with you at the sink. You make a face at him before returning to your business. For a bit, he just watches you, happy to just be in your presence. When he starts brushing his teeth, he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you close.

You protest halfheartedly, and he rolls his eyes at you before spitting his toothpaste out. “Quit whining,” he tells you, giving your hip a squeeze.

“I’m building a wall between us tonight,” you threaten lightly.

“I was a rock climber as a kid.” He pokes you gently. “Now that you’ve let me into your cold, shriveled up heart, I’m not leaving.”

“You still have a lot of work to do, Roman,” you chide. “Just because you got onto your knees for the first time in your life doesn’t mean everything’s magically okay.”

You both pad back into your bedroom, crawling under the covers together. “I thought we could kiss and make up,” he says, propped up on his arm, facing you. You curl up on your side, also facing him.

“Absolutely not,” you tell him. “You’re going to sit here and explain yourself. Or you’re sleeping on the floor.”

He sighs, pulling up the blankets so that you’re both covered. “It’s like I blacked out. I was so scared, Y/N.”

“Why? He can’t do anything to you, Roman, especially now that I’m involved in all this.”

“It’s complicated,” he mutters.

”We have time,” you urge gently.

“It’s the way I grew up, I guess.” He collapses onto his back. “He’d snap over the smallest things. My entire childhood I was walking on eggshells. I don’t… It’s such a bad excuse. God, I feel horrible.” He covers his face with his hands.

You crawl over, close enough to him where you’re able to set your cheek onto his chest and still lay comfortably. You’re still facing him, and one of his hands moves to sit on your hip. “I think I was too harsh on you,” you murmur. “Don’t get me wrong, it still was a dick move, but I get it. Just promise you’ll do better, okay?”

He peels his other hand off of his face to wind it through your hair. “I promise. I promise.” You press a kiss to his chest, to which he stiffens. “Don’t,” he says quietly. “Don’t.”

Hesitantly, you pull away from him, settling on your side of the bed and facing the other way. You fall asleep without saying anything else.

You wake up to an empty bed. You thought it was going so well, too. You drag yourself out of bed and find him in the kitchen. Wordlessly, he pushes you a mug of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs.

“I felt bad. But then I remembered I don’t know how to cook,” Roman says meekly. “I’m sorry. It’s getting too real for me.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I, uh, ‘ve never been in a serious relationship. Not with someone I like this much. I don’t… I don’t want to fuck this up, Y/N.”

You try wiping the bleariness from your face. “I don’t understand you, Rome.”

He reaches out, wiping a bit of coffee from your lip. “I hope you can learn to.”

“As long as you put in the effort, too.” You look up at him. “I don’t mean to pressure you into anything you don’t want. I just mean I want you to actually try.” You take a sip from your mug. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you haven’t exactly been… proactive the last week.”

He leans against the counter behind him. “Who’s the one who went out with another man?”

“Roman, that doesn’t have anything to do with anything.” You laugh as he jabs a hand into your side.

“I’m not going to let you forget it.”

“It’s Greg. Wholesome, kind, Greg.”

“You should’ve been out with me.”

“Take me out, then.”

He bridges the small distance between you and fits his hands into the curves of your waist. “I’ll be all over you in Norway, don’t worry.” He takes the heel of his palm and massages circles into the skin of your hip.

“We need to leave soon,” you tell him. You want to kiss him, but you know you can’t.

“I haven’t even packed,” he says lightly.

“Roman!”

“God, I’ll never get sick of hearing that.”

You drag him into the closet and roll his suitcase over to him. “Get to it.”

☾𖤓

At the airport, Roman carries all of your bags for you. He even demands to hold your purse, a cute short strapped Prada you’d treated yourself to the first big check you’d received. He holds it by the handle over his shoulder the same way one would hold a jacket. He looks silly with his sunglasses on and your purse sitting on his back. It’s endearing, and you smile softly at him.

In the car out to the private jet, you and Shiv make plans to go out shopping your first day in Norway. Willa sits cramped next to Connor, and you feel bad, so you and Shiv invite her. Kendall’s practically snoring on Roman’s shoulder. The poor guy’s been working dusk till dawn this whole ordeal. He deserves the break.

You’re glad Logan won’t be taking the same plane as the six of you. You wouldn’t be able to handle it- the paranoia, his snide comments, and hell, even just his voice would set you off.

You and Shiv settle across from each other on the plane, her feet propped up in your lap. Roman’s slumped against you, asleep, and you think he’s drooling. Kendall sits across from him, also asleep, neck pillow and sleeping mask on like the sleeping beauty he is.

You sigh contentedly.

If you close your eyes, you can pretend like the threat that is Logan Roy isn’t dangling over your heads.

If you close your eyes, you can pretend like you’re just travelling with your chosen family.

If you close your eyes, you can pretend like you’re at peace.

[fraudulent-cheese]

Consider talking about the parallel lines of roti. PLEASE this is literally my roman empire and I'd love to hear your take

Oh geez, hope i can do them justice then!

So generally when people talk about the parallel lines plot in roti, it's to criticize it in various ways - and it deserves it, mind you - but a common pattern i see in those critiques is trying to find someone who's in the categorical 'wrong'. While i have entertained discussions related to that sort of thing with the other love triangle, im not sure it really applies here if you try to look at it from the character's perspectives themselves.

This isn't to say they're all innocent, they still make mistakes and aren't good at communicating (they're teenagers. duh.) Yes, Zoey's overly possessive of a guy she isn't even dating. Yes, Anne Maria gushing about Vito to Mike's discomfort during one elimination ceremony isn't great. Yes, Mike trying to actually talk it out would've helped resolve their issues quicker.

However... You can't really pin the full blame on anyone involved here. Yeah Zoey and Anne Maria fighting over a guy was dumb, but it makes sense in character; Zoey's both judgemental and was previously isolated, so i can see Anne Maria affirming she knows the "real Mike" really getting under her skin and overriding her people pleasing tendencies, while the other girl doesn't take any shit and especially won't take it from a girl who seems to think she's dating the guy she's currently seeing.

in my mind, they've ALL been screwed over in this situation in some way and it somewhat makes sense! Vito's being screwed over because he's an alter in a system with a host who's determined to pretending he's a singlet and doesn't remember what Mike does with Zoey. On top of that, no alter in the system is actually communicating at this point, so there's no real way Vito would know or care about it. Mike's being screwed over because of past experiences of telling the ones closest to him about being a system and rejecting him for it (it's heavily implied in one of his confessionals), a lack of memory for what Vito does and not wanting to screw up his friendship with/crush on Zoey. Anne Maria and Zoey are being screwed over because from the former's perspective she's in the right and trying to romance a guy who only seems to be truly himself around her, while from the latter's perspective it's almost like she's been lead on since both parts of Zoke are not subtle about their mutual crushes. Neither girl knows what's truly going on either since Mike won't tell them.

And of course, there was probably already going to be friction between Zoey and Anne Maria due to Zoey's own issues with making connections and projecting at least some of her baggage on the other girl and Anne Maria (reasonnably might i add) not wanting to take that. And also because the roti writters wouldn't allow the girls to be friends despite the things they could've bonded over but that's a seperate tangent and a half-

NOW i haven't been very critical of this plotline so far, and that's for a veryyyy specific reason; my biggest issue with it is how the narrative treats it. IE, by desperately trying to place Anne Maria as being in the wrong and siding very obviously with Zoke as the end point; they're already set up by episode fucking 1, Anne Maria doesn't get an arc or story outside of being the romantic rival, the alters in general aren't focused on as individuals throughout their short time on screen, zoke is literally the canon ship AND the campfire couple TWO SEASONS IN A ROW... It results in a plotline that is both predictable and boring to watch (for me at least.) and it's the origin point for most of the things wrong with it, at least the parts of it that aren't linked with writing issues that already plague huge parts of the show (cough cough the misogyny)

The saddest part for me though is that half the parallel lines don't get closure in the end. Vito and Anne Maria never talk again after Anne Maria's elimination, they never clear things up (on screen) between eachother, or even have Mike clear things up with Anne Maria! It's just never resolved, and it's never brought up again.

I'd like to think, even if it's post canon or whatever, that Mike/Vito went to talk with Anne Maria alone and tried their best to explain what was going on. It would take some adjustment and good communication to work-out, but i'd like to believe that it could! In my little brainhole i think that Anne Maria and Vito could just end up as friends who kiss sometimes for fun or are just close in general. Hell i could even picture Anne Maria and Mike + Zoey and Vito being friendly after the show's over and they've actually had a conversation about things. But alas, this is Total Drama, so the best we have to deal with these things is fanfiction and spinning the characters in our heads like microwave. Sad! Or joyous? Depending on your perspective.

[crimsonxe]

Me: Seeing Evermorrow and Dust Queen that look interesting -excited hopping in my seat-

Also me: Seeing that in the first the shitlord Syto is listed as a "casting aid" and that the obnoxious know-thing CRWBY bashing piece of shit that is Celtic is voicing Roman in both -nearly breaking my neck from shaking my damn head so hard-

In what fucking world do either of these shitlords that have shown everything except being fans of the show have any ground to be involved in any fan projects? Like these aren't even "questionable", they are straight up shitbags that have gone after CRWBY themselves.

Lets go over it:

They bash the show

They bash CRWBY

They fail at having a grasp on the damn show, characters, and relationship within as they fail repeatedly at understanding things in it and stating blatantly wrong or biased bullshit about it.

They have shown themselves as sexist & homophobic

They have shown themselves as disgusting assholes with bloated ego's that aren't deserved at all

Celtic doesn't even fit as a voice for Roman

Celtic who has obnoxiously and ridiculously stated how he's a better writer than the actual RWBY writers. I can't remember if he actually name dropped them, but honestly it wouldn't be shocking if he did. The guy that thought up "faunus heat cycles"; Velvet x Cardin; Cardin having an "actually a good guy deep down" angle; asspulled Roman back to life & linked him to fucking Oz as if that works in any damn way; did a sauna scene to have fanservice; had Blake essentially become a cop; Ilia getting harsher judgement; decided Shay D. Mann deserved an entire character arc (biggest insult is that creepass having a romantic relationship with Raven who is sooooooooooo damn beyond his level its unreal); repeatedly shoves the femme MC's behind males; etc thinks his ass is a better writer.

As aside: -pulls camera to full face cam- Celtic if you run across this, you aren't at all. You're not even close, you're just another incel chud peddling in right-wing-isms that lead to disgusting ass elements in your bullshit.

Celtic has a history of problematic elements within his "Ruining RWBY" bullshit

Syto tried to poison the well going into v9 via realizing what everyone else did in that Bees were coming and him trying to paint the pander angle that ignores the 10 years, 9 volumes of work put into BB leading up to said vibes people had about their becoming official.

Syto who tried to do Cherish his AU spinoff and failed; tried to do his own project w/o anything to do with RWBY and failed; and scurried back to another RWBY AU project

Syto who basically dived into the idea of Yang being an airhead party girl throwing out her entire true self. Not to mention his redesign sexualizing her in the exact aspects one would expect from an incel shitbag. Barely anything there waist, barely anything there top, massive cleavage.

Like these shitbags should be nowhere near fan projects. Don't give them normalization as if they aren't what they are.

[eeveebitches]

hot recognizes hot || Roman Roy

Pairing: Roman Roy x F!Reader

Summary: Bored in a fancy bar your friend dragged you to, you see a man by himself nursing a drink and decide to start up a conversation

Word count: 1.806

You nurse the mocktail you have with a light frown. The thing cost 17 dollars, and you're pretty sure most of that money is simply for the fancy glass it's in.

The bar you're at is a fancy, high-end breeding spot for nepo babies. A place you wouldn't frequent if it wasn't for your friend, who got free entry for the both of you because she slept with the owner's niece or some shit like that. You don't remember it well, and she's already disappeared into the designer-clad crowd. Asking her about the lore of how and why you're here isn't an option anymore.

You're painfully bored, stuck in a 1-percenter hell-hole by yourself. So when you see a guy nursing a drink with an expression you're sure is the same as your own, you can't help but make your way over to him.

His eyes, which you can't help but find sad looking, remove themselves from his drink and instead take your presence in. You can visibly see the cogs in his head turn as his brows furrow and his bottom lip stutters in initial confusion. And then finally, with a slight raise of his eyebrows, he scoffs. You catch a quiet 'fuck off' he seemingly mumbles more to himself than to you, right before he lets his line of sight drop back down into his untouched drink.

Rough start, but whatever. You won't let a sour attitude stop you from, at the very least, getting a fun story out of tonight that you can tell your friends tomorrow. "Hey so, not to be a weirdo or anything, but I noticed you're here by yourself too, and also seem pretty miserable."

This time he fully moves his head to face you, carrying an incredulous look in his eyes. As you watch his eyes slowly move down, and then back up again from your figure, you notice how antsy he seems.

The tips of his fingers are nervously tapping against the marble of the bar's counter, and his sleeves are crumpled up from what you can only assume is constant fidgeting with them. There's also a shine of sweat on his neck that you're only seeing now that you're closer in proximity.

"I don't wanna get my cock sucked, thanks and fuck off," he quickly mutters as he busies himself by clasping and unclasping his drink. Now it's your turn to scoff, because who even is this guy? He's dressed like he's about to enter an important business meeting, as if the bar's bathrooms aren't most probably occupied by D-list celebrities getting their rocks off.

You settle down into the seat next to his, the need to win this verbal battle now in the forefront of your mind. "Dude, I don't wanna suck your shriveled up witch's finger dick. I'm just bored and thought you'd be good enough company for now."

He lets out a huffed chuckle. A brief, barely audible one, but you caught it. "And I don't want your mouth near my dick, either. Don't wanna catch whatever diseases you're carrying- bird flu or some shit, I don't know."

"Is that why you haven't touched your drink? Too scared of bird flu, pussy?" His posture visibly straightens up at that, body slightly turning to face you. "Who the fuck wants bird flu? You sound like you fucking enjoy the idea of having the same disease as pigeons. Is it a kink thing? A hot and heavy pigeon sex kink thing?"

You don't hide your amusement, nor the way you check him out the same way he did to you. His hair is clearly messed up, remnants of intact gel shining in the bar's lighting. He has slight facial hair, which you could only describe as an overgrown stubble, as well as strangely pretty downturned lashes that flutter with each blink.

Vaguely, you remember thinking about how sad his eyes looked. Now that you're closer, and can see the semi-permanent crease between his brows, he reminds you a bit of an overgrown, overworked puppy. "I think you're projecting your bird kink onto me."

The corner of his mouth quirks up. "And I think you're getting your panties soaked just thinking about me being into pigeon sex. You're probably g'na ask me to follow you to a random closet and coo in your ear as you jerk me off."

You shift your weight around a bit, taking a glance at your own drink as you realize you should probably start drinking it again. "You wish I would, freak," you quip before taking a sip from the metal straw currently swimming in your drink. For a moment you catch a flash of something- a slightly creased brow, and a stutter in his breathing. Something with an implication you can't help but find intriguing.

"So what's your deal, then, if it's not kinky pigeon role-play?" Now it's your turn to quirk a brow at him. "My 'deal'?"

The man shrugs, lips pouted as he carelessly picks up his drink and swivels its content around. "Y'know, why did you fuckin', walk up to me and try to plow my ass knuckles dip? What's up with that?"

You scoff. Whoever this overgrown teenager was, he could not let go of the constant quips. "What's up with the jokes? Don't tell me it's a coping mechanism," you ask him before you can stop yourself. He makes a face of faux disgust, failing to hide how his lips genuinely twitch downwards. "Why are you dodging my question with another question?"

"Why do you not let yourself be open and vulnerable?" You don't bother looking up from your drink as you take a sip. Whatever his expression was, you were sure it wouldn't surprise you all that much. The man sputters, uncharacteristically not knowing what to say in reply. "The fuck are you, my therapist?"

"Is your therapist hot, and incredibly charming?" His eyes sparkle as he looks at you. He's clearly amused, which you wish you could say didn't tickle you. "She's an ugly hag," he says, clearly only partially joking. "I'd turn into an ugly hag, too, if I had to listen to you whine about, I don't know, your Rolex being dirty."

His frown deepens at that, eyes looking away from you, like he's shielding himself from your financial judgement. "Whatever, then fuckin' leave since you're so hot and charming," he mumbles, and suddenly he takes a swig from his drink. He's a bit of a drama queen.

"But talking to you is soooo much fun, why would I leave?" You make sure to have the sarcasm drip off of your words. Just as suddenly as he took a swig, he suddenly turns his whole body to you. "Seriously, what the fuck is your deal? If it's about my dad, fuck off and die," he hisses out, finger pointing at you.

You point your finger back, and even go as far as to let the tip of your index finger touch his. "I have no idea who your dad is, so I'm not gonna do that. Now order me a snack as an apology," you retort with a straight face.

His eyes dart all over your face, trying to deduce your truth and lies or something like that. With a deep sigh he turns away from you, putting his finger down and instead calling over the bartender. "D'you guys have, like, peanuts, or cookies, or some stupid bar snack shit like that?"

Quickly, the bartender nods, busying himself in making what seems to be a miniature charcuterie board. Seriously, what kind of bar is this? "I swear to god, if you're a reporter, I'm sicking my lawyers on you and having them raid your villages, burn your crops and devour your women," he mumbles as he returns to staring at his drink.

"What, are you famous? Like a knock-off DiCaprio?" He chuckles at that, so apparently he finds you funny. "You seriously don't know who I am?" You shrug in reply, to which he suddenly grabs your phone from the bar you had placed it on. He shoves it towards you, eyebrows raised. "Unlock it."

Usually you wouldn't let some random wet puppy dog of a man demand something like that of you, but the small possibility that he's actually famous intrigues you. Awkwardly, you grab your phone and unlock it, handing it back to him. "If this is your way of giving me your number, I'm gonna strangle you, just so you know."

The bartender places the charcuterie board for mice in front of you. It looks good, also more expensive than two years of your rent. Meanwhile, mystery man types something on your phone, not paying you any mind. "Here, you don't know this?"

Your eyes squint as he shoves the screen in your face.

'The Waystar Royco Legacy, And The Oil They Spill Into The Ocean Of News.'

Wait,

"You're Logan Roy's son?"

He nods, grabbing the one of the tiny forks given with the board and popping an olive in his mouth, humming in confirmation. "Isn't your brother, like... Kendall?"

"Yeah, what about him?" It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts, but when you do, you grin as you tell him. "His tweets are really funny in like, an ironic way. He's also kinda hot." The face he makes is one of pure disgust, but there's a twang of something bitter. "Ew, Kendall? Seriously? That's what you find hot? He looks like a fucking Playmobil figurine on ketamine, your taste in men is horrible," he groans out, popping another olive in his mouth as he keeps frowning at you.

For a second you wanna ask 'well, wouldn't he actually do ketamine?', but you stop yourself from being an insensitive asshole and instead grab the other fork, plopping the food in your mouth. "Well, I find you kinda hot, too. So you calling my taste horrible is just insulting yourself," you say as casually as one can when shooting their shot. 

The shot seems successful enough, since he starts choking on his olive, face immediately growing three shades redder. "H-oly fuck, don't just fuckin', say that, god," he wheezes out. You shrug, fighting back a proud smile. "Hot recognizes hot, that's all."

You grab your phone from his hand and glance at the time and oh shit, it's late as hell. "Hey, you're hot and fun to talk to and all, but I start my first day at work in like, four hours, so I gotta go." You shove a few of the charcuterie pieces into your mouth, not waiting for his response as you rush outside.

Roman scoffs as he watches you scurry off, taking a final, large sip of his drink, frowning at the burn of it.

"Hot recognizes hot, I guess."

[namtanlovesfilm]

Hello!! Found your blog while scouring the internet for Anything relating to Analog Squad, which I’ve binged today. Got any other Thai drama recs by any chance? I’ve already added Burnout Syndrome and Ready Set Love onto my watch list

analog squad mentionned, yessssss!!! hi hi :) do I have other thai drama recs???? hell yeah friend let's go, you loving analog squad AND adding burnout syndrome & ready set love to your watch list tells me you have great taste so let's go 💅

I told sunset about you: literally a masterpiece from beginning to end. if you liked the character exploration of analog squad, you'll love this one! very VERY dramatic but very VERY good. my fave!

not me: literally my fave show of all times, lives rent-free in my head, changed my mind, I made it my master's thesis topic, I'm beyond obsessed with it. by the same director & with the same pairing as burnout syndrome so I recommend watching that one first to see what you're getting into, this show is so special & different than any others. you'll love it!

project s: skate our souls: the 3rd show in my holy trinity. changed my life & my outlook on my own mental health, has great actors adjacent to the ones in analog squad & ready set love (google nadao bangkok & you'll get it), and it's just the most beautiful underrated gem of all time :)

project s: side by side: same overarching show as the previous one, this one is super bittersweet & will get you in your feels in an analog squad fashion. a banger imo.

the gifted: another banger, this one is more adjacent to ready set love in terms of scope & grandeur of the moving elements needed to make this show work. it's very different & very good!

sleepless society: insomnia: idk exactly why I feel like you'd like this show, but I feel liked you'd like this show. or perhaps I'm just recommending you all of my personal faves lol. anyways super underrated show that it straight up a banger & super different. I really recommend it.

theory of love: if you're signed up for burnout syndrome & you enjoyed I told sunset about you, you'll LOVE theory of love. same pairing as not me & burnout syndrome, toxic af, dramatic like itsay, will make you question your sanity at times... legit so good. this show has haters but it'll always have me as a fan. I think you'll love it!

the revenge: legit my roman empire. no one watched this show but it's some of the best shit I've ever seen! it has some of the soul of analog squad & the social criticism of ready set love, except this show is super fucked up lol. very very good, could not recommend it more!

3 will be free: queer, messy & has some social commentary, I feel like this show would please you if you liked analog squad & added ready set love & burnout syndrome to your watch list. it feels like a show completely different from these three, but also the perfect amalgamation of all three. a cultural reset imo!

midnight motel: this one is short, dark & fucking greatly executed! same main actor as burnout syndrome, not me & theory of love (and my fave actor in general) and a great social commentary. could not recommend it more!

happy birthday: I feel like happy birthday & analog squad occupy a similar space in my heart. it's bittersweet, heartwarming & a tear-jerker all at once, and it deals with an important topic. this one is so good, and has stayed with me since I watched it years ago.

great men academy: this one is maybe tonally most similar to ready set love, but I also want you to watch it for jaylerr, who was also in analog squad, and whom I love dearly. he's excellent in this role.

in family we trust: same thing as gma, this also has jaylerr & I am indeed trying to make you a jaylerr stan with this rec list lol. this is so good, mysterious, has good social commentary, amazing acting, & will keep you on your toes. on top of making you a jaylerr stan, of course.

xxx

[trippinsorrows]

Leya’s bd could be an athlete, he’s popular they run in similar circles. He could be on a team with either Lina or Tama

ooooh! i like this! i know this is cliche, but maybe they end up having a project together or something? or share study hall?

also, idk ya'll, i'm leaning more and more on the side of making this canon, because there's just so many branches i've formed, scenes in my head.

like the infamous scene where roso meet with the boys parents and share that leya has decided to keep the baby. kinda thinking i wanna make the boy the son of bobby lashley and an black!oc, cause i loved me some bobby back in the day. and, he's kinda stubborn like roman, so they clash immediately.

"keeping the baby? what sense does that make? this situation is all fucked up!"

"we wouldn't be in this situation if you taught your fucking son how to be responsible!"

"and your daughter is all innocent in this? she's just as guilty as he is!"

"watch your fucking mouth when you speak on my child."

"exactly! child! they're both children, and they're too young to be having a baby! you should talk some sense into her!

"say one more fucking thing about my daughter, and you won't have to worry about any of this shit, because you're gonna be fucking dead!"

like, and poor leya overhears all of this and just feels bad all over again, leading to a scene where roman comforts her later on and reminds her it's going to be okay.

the possibilities are endless. 😭😭😭😭

[senselessviolets]

Random things of note from the S2 scripts;

**When I was on vacation a few months back, I decided to bring one of the script books with me and chose season 2. Since I had a lot of downtime and was able to really delve into it & study it, I jot some random shit that stuck out to me in my Notes app. I stumbled across that note today. Enjoy.

Roman has a lot of lines with the recurring use of the word “nemesis” in regard to Kendall. Like it practically becomes another motif.

Sophie and Iverson were gonna be with Kendall for a portion of the season. 

In a cut scene, Iverson is struggling to stay afloat in a pool and Kendall instantly dives in to save him so he doesn't have a repeat of the wedding w/ the waiter.

There was an incident where Roman used a blowtorch on his friend’s sportscar and graffitied it with the word “faggot” (projection me thinks).

Gerri & Karolina (and presumably Cyd) were excluded from the hunting in Hungary bc of them being women.

Logan mentions Shiv having cracked at one point; this might be whatever breakdown she had before dating Tom that’s alluded to later in S4.

Frank cries after sex apparently.

That's all, folks.