#theromandaniels

[chillpills]

“ you got me there, ” a hesitant pause as teeth grazed her tongue, stained a purplish hue from a handful of skittles. while she might’ve appeared collected, inside her head an imaginary rope was being pulled to-and-fro in contemplation. should she say it ? no. yes. no. yes. a back and forth for what seemed like eternity despite only seconds being lost to silence. “ rommanibal lecter. ” instant regret at the quick-witted wordplay might’ve been expected from others, but jude embraced it with a chuff of a laugh. short-lived given the immediate shift in tides. she was skirting somewhat uncharted territories now, an innocent attempt to peel back another layer to the onion of a man. complex, stoic, a touch stand-offish. truthfully, he reminded jude of shrek — which, essentially, made her donkey. it wasn't a wrong assessment either. she could be annoying, she could be a bit much; but she liked to think it was just persistence. if she hadn't attended that initial meeting and sat beside him, she probably never would've been sitting across from him now. granted it wasn't an easy triumph. would've hit him with a 'it's good to talk about these things', but she'd rather not exhaust a statement spat like a broken record during meetings. instead, she simply sat back and listened. 'have ... had' — his slip-up didn't go unnoticed, but all jude could do was offer a soft smile. “ you. ” she finally chimed in, finishing the statement roman left to linger, with a playful roll of her eyes. “ yeah, yeah. i get it you were a catch back in the day. ” obviously she knew who he meant, but she wasn't going to force it out of him and she definitely wasn't about to have a heart-to-heart while somebody told me by the killers softly played in the background. now if angel by sarah mclachlan was queued up then it'd be an entirely different story. “ so, d'you have a favorite song ? of your own, i mean. or in general too, m'always eager to scrutinize. ” she teased.

When Jude first wandered into the support group, Roman had — like with everyone else — kept his distance. He listened to people’s stories, he shared what he felt comfortable with, then he was out the door by the time the group-leader said ‘see you next week’. However, it was like the younger woman just knew that Roman wasn’t keen on group conversation, and slunk around him like a cat who's next target was someone with severe animal dander allergies. And at some point, he must have gotten soft, soon not telling her to fuck off immediately, reluctantly accepting gas-station junk food and thus her into his life. Roman rolled his eyes, catching the Snickers bar with just a slight fumble — the right hand laid out as dormant as ever, the left hand not used to being used actively — and after holding his glower toward her for a moment, began to unwrap it purposefully, not ripping it into shreds. “Isn’t the whole point of that character is that he’s an American psychopath? Surely a better comparison to me is Hannibal Lecter or Sweeney Todd?” Whilst he didn’t appreciate her dramatic flair for cleaning up her rubbish, at least she did it so he bit his tongue, though he let out a groan as Jude’s questioning led back to the band. “You know I don’t enjoy talking about that stuff.” A beat. “We have…had one song, ‘idyllicynism’ like a composition of idyllicism and cynic? That a few people moshed too, if we ever bothered playing it, but supposed most people were just lusting after —,” He waved his hand, unable to say Harrison’s name.

[tonibeltran]

[ OUTGOING SMS 📲 ROMAN (♥️) ]

ANTONIO: What do you think are the chances that vets are actually a scam? ANTONIO: Just paid over $500 for these fuckers to tell me they don't know what's wrong with Moon ANTONIO: Sent her home with antibiotics and a "good luck." I'm starting to think veterinary medicine isn't real. @theromandaniels

[hvneymelons]

Closed Starter:  @theromandaniels at Re-Cording 

Having ordered Lincoln’s birthday present late as it was, Dee had to wait an additional month and some change for the specific guitar to arrive. She knew absolutely nothing about instruments or even music for that matter, her own taste leveling between classical music to opera, so the internet and his own mother had done most of her research. Asking Lincoln was completely out of the question since she knew he would probably attempt to talk her out of getting him anything, and she wasn’t in the business of lying for comfort. So she found herself entering the music store, pocket book in hand, to pick up the guitar.  “Good afternoon.” she greeted, smiling brightly when she encountered Roman in front of the register. She hadn’t run into him again since the creamery, and if she was a little more honest she had purposely come to pick up the equipment in order to get another good look at him, as opposed to having the thing delivered to her place. Nothing wrong with a little admiring, she told herself as she approached. “No teenagers running around today?” she asked, remembering his previous comment about the place.

[themissing-linc]

who: Linc & @theromandaniels where: the rally stage, bts!

After running into Elijah Falvey-- and learning that he was essentially a father figure to Phoebe-- Linc shouldn't be surprised to see another idol materialize before him. But when Roman Daniels stuck his head behind the makeshift curtains, he begged himself to stay cool. Elijah was nice enough about Linc's fawning, but that didn't mean he wanted to push his luck, here. Nodding a greeting, Linc bent over the soundboard, adjusting the gain while the pre-approved pride playlist shot 'Naked in Manhattan' out of the speakers up front. "I-- if you want to sit, I'm not using the stool," Linc offered, placing his stool closer to Roman and swiping at the back of his neck. "Big supporter of the shop. Re-chording," Linc said, immediately wincing. As if Roman wouldn't know his own shop's name. "I'm trying to-- uh, convince Harbor FM execs to give me a throwback segment, let me spin some vinyl on air," he shared, the words falling out of his mouth almost automatically. "Sorry, I don't-- I'm sure you're busy with something."

[rafaelmoldonado]

"I never worked here. It felt better to keep work and personal separate. I commute to the city or just see patients virtually." Rafael liked just being normal when in Blue Harbor. Not that he ever really turned off that analytical side of his brain. He kept almost everyone at a distance there, except for probably Leon. Chicago was big enough that he wasn't at risk of running into his patients every day and there were certain mercies in that. Learning all of the drama of his fellow citizens? It didn't seem worth it. "I facilitate the AA meeting in town but it's neutral ground." That was another trick of his. Most people who were in the know would be able to understand that admission of vulnerability. If not, he was just a slightly more quirky guy than before.

Rafael laughed at the delightful idea of this stranger's mother not being able to figure out what was going on. It spoke to a playfulness that Rafael wasn't sure he still had. "Queen huh? I was always more of a Duran Duran guy." He chuckled as he studied the painting absentmindedly. Rafael had already spent a large amount of time int hat section of the gallery but he found that there was always more to see, more subtle strokes of effort that the artist placed which deserved attention. "Oh I know that place. I got kicked out when I was a kid and I proved that for sure, I would have zero musical talent. That's cool. Are you enjoying it?"

A lot of people probably would have remarked something along the lines of knowing Rafael’s occupation, could see the signs or some bullshit. But Roman had only done intense one-on-one therapy a few months after the accident, and he’d been so lost in his own anger and grief (and so doped up on his pain pills) that he didn’t know what the tells of a shrink were. And the people who ran the groups were…unique individuals, to put it lightly. Not exactly cut from the same cloth as present company. “Bet it’s a boring occupation in such a sleepy town.” Big cities were where psychiatrists flourished, where there was an almost unbridled amount of issues caused in such mass areas. Though he supposed it wasn’t the exciting cases that Rafael was into, probably all that shit about wanting to help others and all that.

He stared at the piece, the calming aura of the snow-topped pasture almost sending a shiver down his spine as if experiencing the cold of the landscape first hand. “My mum tried to do that with me. But I admit I just spent the session incorporating ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ and seeing how long it’d take her to notice.” And now it wasn’t even something he could participate in anymore. “I own Re-Chording.” 

[blueharborhq]

The following have 24 hours to return from hiatus or risk being unfollowed:

CJ Ono-Welford ( Admin Soph ) — @thecjonowelford

Madisyn Huang ( Admin Soph ) — @themadisynhuang

Phoebe Yates ( Admin Soph ) — @thephoebeyates

Roman Daniels ( Admin Soph ) — @theromandaniels

If you have already posted, please disregard this message.

[tonibeltran]

[ OUTGOING SMS 📲 ROMAN (♥️) ]

ANTONIO: [Attachment: 1 Image] ANTONIO: Am I a bad influence on my cat, do you think? @theromandaniels

[tonibeltran]

[ OUTGOING SMS 📲 ROMAN (WORK) ]

ANTONIO: [Attachment: 1 Image] ANTONIO: Thought you weren't doing interviews anymore? @theromandaniels

[tonibeltran]

[ 📱 text ] Roman (Work)

ANTONIO: Are you still working? ANTONIO: Moon's been meowing at the door like fucking crazy I think she's waiting for you 🙄 @theromandaniels

[tonibeltran]

[ 📱text ] Roman (work) / @theromandaniels

ANTONIO: [Attachment: 1 Image] ANTONIO: You

[tonibeltran]

STATUS: closed event starter for @theromandaniels LOCATION: charity luncheon banquet hall...'s bathroom

Antonio’s been dodging most questions about his face — oh, yes, had a fun trip down the stairs, no, don’t worry, had an incident with a car door — and save for the people who’d been there to witness the random assault (Clementine) and the people he hadn’t found it pertinent to lie to (Rachel), most people seem to gloss right over the subject, probably thinking they’re sparing Antonio from further embarrassment. Nice of them, he thinks a little tersely, considering most of them are rich assholes who think about themselves more often than not.

He knows this is a good cause — tangentially, he’s aware he’s probably going to have to donate an obscene amount of money to the center to make himself feel better about the real reason he’s here: to find and confront Roman.

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, that it’s only really been two days since he’d last seen or spoken to his friend, but after spending nearly every single hour of every single day together for months, he thinks he’s entitled to being a little pathetic. Never mind that the man had shown up at his house and kissed him, made Antonio rethink everything he’s ever known about fucking intimacy in less than five minutes, and then dipped, nothing but an emotionless ‘no’ as a response to Antonio’s request for him to stay.

Roman Daniels does not get to leave him, too. Antonio won’t let him. 

It’s a little hard to find him in a crowd this dense, and even more so when he knows the other man’s probably hiding from him — but it’s after his brief interaction with Rachel that he finally spots him, marching his way into the bathroom, looking as sullen and miserable and fucking handsome as he always does. Even resentful, Antonio can’t help the way his heart squeezes at the sight of him, the ghost of his touch so prevalent it almost feels real. He pushes past some of the crowd, excusing himself in mutters, until he finally reaches the bathroom door and turns the handle.

At first glance, it’s clear there’s no one but Roman in here — good. Antonio lets the door shut behind him, then leans against it to prevent his friend access to an exit. Without looking, he scours for the manual lock with his hand until he feels it, then turns it over to lock the door completely. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stares at Roman for a second, before he finally decides his friend isn’t going to say a fucking word — leaving him to pick up the slack. “So that’s it? You’re gonna — what?” He raises an eyebrow. “Avoid me until you forget you ever kissed me?” 

[tonibeltran]

x. status -> closed for @theromandaniels x. location -> o'shea's

Some might find it amusingly redundant, just how often Antonio finds himself at a bar when he’s already drunk himself silly at home. Others might find it concerning, he thinks to himself with a quiet snort, but whatever opinion might win out — most people would just have to find it. He hadn’t planned on getting any higher or any drunker today before coming into O’Shea’s, not really, but then he got stupidly mouthy in his text thread to Roman. He thinks of it as an insurance policy — the more he drinks, the more his emotions are in control, and the less chance of spontaneous vulnerability. Whatever the fuck is happening in his head nowadays around Roman is better off quiet, somewhere in a deep, dark corner Antonio can’t find it, and his subconscious can’t reach it.

There’s a guy across the bar that’s been giving him bedroom eyes since he walked in, and a part of him almost entertains the idea of going for it — the bathroom’s right there, Leon doesn’t seem to be in, and it’d be a great way to blow off some steam before Roman shows up. Another part of him, however, seems to balk at the idea of doing something like that specifically because Roman’s about to show up, and he’s already made it abundantly clear to Antonio what he feels about his screwing around. He’s set his boundaries, Toni reminds himself — all he’s gotta do is tamper down whatever’s wrong with him to help him respect them. No over-the-top flirting, no sexual innuendos, no whatever the hell else comes out of him so naturally it almost feels like spit: things he can do, easily, with a body full of bourbon and Blue Dream. 

He forgets he’s not in charge of other people, though, and he panics slightly when the man seems to convince himself to approach him — luckily, they’re both distracted by the door opening, and in walks Roman, looking as Roman as ever. Antonio quickly waves him over before the other man decides to take the seat he’d been saving for his friend, and when he approaches, Antonio offers him a casual, lazy grin. “Sure your store didn’t spontaneously combust into flames the second you stepped out?” 

[tonibeltran]

x. status -> closed for @theromandaniels x. location -> antonio's place in oak gardens

Unsure of why Roman’s decided a request as simple as come meet my cat warranted actual visitation, Antonio finds himself tidying up as much as he can before his friend arrives. He’d expected some pushback, maybe some witty back and forth as usual, but it was easy enough to convince him to put himself in a potentially dangerous situation in Toni’s homestead. Maybe Roman’s looking for a bit of an adrenaline kick, Antonio snorts to himself — living on the edge, by meeting a cat who may immediately scratch his eyes out. Though the thought itself is ridiculous, he finds that it’s not so far-fetched he can completely rule it out.

He doesn’t have the time to change out of his loose gray sweats after doing his best to make the place presentable, but he does at least throw on the first white t-shirt he finds in his clean laundry hamper. Better than to greet him shirtless. The doorbell rings almost immediately after he does this, and he’s making his way to the entrance when Moon crashes straight into the water pitcher he’d stupidly left out on the kitchen counter. “How?” Antonio huffs at his cat, who seems to recover from the shock relatively quickly. He hurries toward the door and opens it for Roman, greeting his friend with a large grin. “Give me a minute,” he tells him, turning on his heel and walking to the kitchen towels hanging over the oven handle. “You can come in, I’m just gonna clean up Moon’s mess.”

After finishing with the counter, he bends down and laps up the remainder of the water that’s fallen to the floor. Then he gathers up all the soaked towels and makes his way down the hallway and to the laundry room. He’s shoving the towels into the washer when he calls out, “Just don’t approach her too fast and you should be fine.” He doesn’t bother setting the machine to wash, because he’s not in a position where he cares to, and he’s a little afraid Moon’s going to try to maul Rome while he’s out of sight. He steps out of the laundry room and moves down the hallway, back toward the living area. “She’ll probably just—huh.”

He stops in his tracks at the archway, brows furrowed in both awe and confusion. Where he’d been expecting his cat to be vigilant and glaring from the recently-dry kitchen counter, perhaps, she’s instead found herself rubbing happily against Roman’s legs, around one and then the other, rinse and repeat. The purring is so loud it’d almost be alarming, except Toni knows she purrs like that for exactly two people: him, and Izzy. And now, apparently, Roman.

Leaning against the wall, he crosses his arms over his chest and watches the sight in silence for about a minute. Eventually, he smirks. “Guess she has good taste,” he quips, meeting Roman’s gaze. “I bet she’s not the first girl eager to rub up on your legs, eh?” He waggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly, the joke far too obvious for him not to make. He nods down at his cat, who is now sitting pretty in front of Roman, tip of her tail twitching in anticipation as she looks up at him with wide pupils. “She wants you to come down to her,” he explains. “Probably for a good hand sniff and some pets.”

[tonibeltran]

x. status -> closed for @theromandaniels x. location -> re-chording

It takes a second for Antonio to stop looking at the latest picture of Iris on his phone — it feels like every time he gets a new update, she’s grown twice her size. He reacts to the photo with a heart, far too unfocused in both his substance-induced haze and the anticipation of what lies ahead of the door in front of him to formulate a reply worthy of her adorable face. Locking his phone, he proceeds to pocket it as he raises his gaze up to the sign above his head — Re-Chording, it reads, a fantastic pun Toni feels he would have made back in the day to a crowd of groans on the tour bus, he’s sure. 

Ophelia has always been one to give information out freely, including where to find Roman these days after his move to Blue Harbor. Though their contact after Roman’s move back to London had been minimal, it’d never been antagonistic: they’d grown closer than before, after Harrison’s death, after Elijah’s disappearance, and that bond had become evident in whatever contact they’d manage to keep after all was said and done. He’s less nervous about seeing Rome, then, than he is about the questions he might ask of him. Antonio came back to Blue Harbor looking to find a means to an end — whatever that end may look like — and not to rehash the past. A bit shortsighted, maybe, considering the weight of their history in this place, but the alcohol that surely makes up about ninety percent of his bloodstream nowadays makes him an optimistic person, apparently.

With a loud sigh, he takes the final steps toward the door and pulls it open, the blast of the A/C hitting him face-first. The vibes are, he notes immediately, very Roman, which he imagines may only make sense to a handful of people in this world. There are a couple of customers loitering around the instruments toward the back, but for the most part, the place is empty. This makes it simple to find the counter near the front-end, where he hopes he’ll find a bell to ring for assistance, otherwise he may find himself having to yell toward the back for his old bandmate — and that’s never a flattering look, for anyone.

He doesn’t have to worry, however, because as soon as he reaches the counter, he spots familiar locks of hair and a solemn disposition across the way. Rome’s back is to Antonio, doing something he’s sure is either very important or just an excuse to hide from the newest customer who’d walked in. His lips twitch upward in amusement — he wouldn’t put the latter past his old friend. He can’t really see Rome as the customer service type, if he’s being honest. Then again, what does he know? Maybe he’s changed. 

Antonio decides to put this theory to the test, for his own amusement. “Hey, I’d like to file a complaint against the guy who owns this place?” He leans over the counter, grinning lazily at Rome’s back. “His hair smells like 2-in-1 shampoo and his face is honestly just such a fuckin’ bummer.”

[theromandaniels]

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[tonibeltran]

@theromandaniels